HARD TIMES.
How lonesome the days when dear friends leave us to return no more, whom
we never shall see again on earth, who will send us no message or letter
of love from the far distant land whither they have gone! It tries our
hearts and brings tears to our eyes to lay them in the ground. But shall
we never, never see them again? Yes, when we have taken the same
journey, when we have closed our eyes on earth and opened them in
heaven.
As the months rolled by, the Pensioner's eyes grew dim. He became weak
and feeble. "The Pensioner won't stand it long," the people said.
He did not rise one morning when breakfast was ready.
"Come, grandpa," said Paul, opening the bedroom door and calling him;
but there was no reply. He lay as if asleep; but his brow was cold, and
his heart had stopped beating. He had died calmly and peacefully, and
was forever at rest.
It was a sad day to Paul when he followed the body of his dear old
grandfather to the grave; but when he stood by his coffin, and looked
for the last time upon his grandfather's face, and saw how peaceful it
was and how pleasant the smile which rested upon it, as if he was
beholding beautiful scenes,--when Paul remembered how good he was, he
could not feel it in his soul to say, "Come back, Grandpa"; he would be
content as it was. But the days were long and dreary, and so were the
nights. Many the hours which Paul passed lying awake in his bed, looking
through the crevices of the poor old house, and watching the stars and
the clouds as they went sailing by. So he was sailing on, and the
question would come up, Whither? He listened to the water falling over
the dam by the mill, and to the chirping of the crickets, and the
sighing of the wind, and the church-bell tolling the hours: they were
sweet, yet mournful and solemn sounds. Tears stood in his eyes and
rolled down his cheeks, as he thought that he and his mother were on
earth, and his father and grandfather were praising God in the heavenly
choirs. But he resolved to be good, to take care of his mother, and be
her comfort and joy.
Hard times came on. How to live was the great question; for now that his
grandfather was gone, they could have the pension no longer. The
neighbors were very kind. Sometimes Mr. Middlekauf, Hans's father, who
had a great farm, left a bag of meal for them when he came into the
village. There was little work for Paul to do in the village; but he
kept their own garden in good trim,--the onion-bed clear of weeds, and
the potatoes well hilled. Very pleasant it was to work there, where the
honey-bees hummed over the beds of sage, and among his mother's flowers,
and where bumble-bees dusted their yellow jackets in the hollyhocks.
Swallows also built their nests under the eaves of the house, and made
the days pleasant with their merry twittering.
The old Pensioner had been a land surveyor. The compass which he used
was a poor thing; but he had run many lines with it through the grand
old forest. One day, as Paul was weeding the onions, it occurred to him
that he might become a surveyor; so he went into the house, took the
compass from its case, and sat down to study it. He found his
grandfather's surveying-book, and began to study that. Some parts were
hard and dry; but having resolved to master it, he was not the boy to
give up a good resolution. It was not long before he found out how to
run a line, how to set off angles, and how to ascertain the distance
across a river or pond without measuring it. He went into the woods, and
stripped great rolls of birch bark from the trees, carried them home,
spread them out on the table, and plotted his lines with his dividers
and ruler. He could not afford paper. He took great pleasure in making a
sketch of the ground around the house, the garden, the orchard, the
field, the road, and the river.
The people of New Hope had long been discussing the project of building
a new road to Fairview, which would cross the pond above the mill. But
there was no surveyor in the region to tell them how long the bridge
must be which they would have to build.
"We will send up a kite, and thus get a string across the pond," said
one of the citizens.
"I can ascertain the distance easier than that," said Paul.
Mr. Pimpleberry, the carpenter, who was to build the bridge, laughed,
and looked with contempt upon him, Paul thought, because he was barefoot
and had a patch on each knee.
"Have you ever measured it, Paul?" Judge Adams asked.
"No, sir; but I will do so just to let Mr. Pimpleberry see that I can do
it."
He ran into the house, brought out the compass, went down to the edge of
the pond, drove a small stake in the ground, set his compass over it,
and sighted a small oak-tree upon the other side of the pond. It
happened that the tree was exactly south from the stake; then he turned
the sights of his compass so that they pointed exactly east and west.
Then he took Mr. Pimpleberry's ten-foot pole, and measured out fifty
feet toward the west, and drove another stake. Then he set his compass
there, and took another sight at the small oak-tree across the pond. It
was not south now, but several degrees east of south. Then he turned his
compass so that the sights would point just the same number of degrees
to the east of north.
"Now, Mr. Pimpleberry," said Paul, "I want you to stand out there, and
hold your ten-foot pole just where I tell you, putting yourself in range
with the stake I drove first and the tree across the pond."
Mr. Pimpleberry did as he was desired.
"Drive a stake where your pole stands," said Paul.
Mr. Pimpleberry did so.
"Now measure the distance from the one you have just driven to my first
stake, and that will be the distance across the pond," said Paul.
"I don't believe it," said Mr. Pimpleberry.
"Paul is right," said Judge Adams. "I understand the principle. He has
done it correctly."
The Judge was proud of him. Mr. Pimpleberry and Mr. Funk, and several
other citizens, were astonished; for they had no idea that Paul could do
anything of the kind. Notwithstanding Paul had given the true distance,
he received no thanks from any one; yet he didn't care for that; for he
had shown Mr. Pimpleberry that he could do it, and that was glory
enough.
Paul loved fun as well as ever. Rare times he had at school. One windy
day, a little boy, when he entered the school-room, left the door open.
"Go back and shut the door," shouted Mr. Cipher, who was very irritable
that morning. Another boy entered, and left it open. Mr. Cipher was
angry, and spoke to the whole school: "Any one who comes in to-day and
does not shut the door will get a flogging. Now remember!" Being very
awkward in his manners, inefficient in government, and shallow-brained
and vain, he commanded very little respect from the scholars.
"Boys, there is a chance for us to have a jolly time with Cipher," said
Paul at recess.
"What is it?" Hans Middlekauf asked, ready for fun of any sort. The boys
gathered round, for they knew that Paul was a capital hand in inventing
games.
"You remember what Cipher said about leaving the door open."
"Well, what of it?" Hans Middlekauf asked.
"Let every one of us show him that we can obey him. When he raps for us
to go in, I want you all to form in line. I'll lead off, go in and shut
the door; you follow next, Hans, and be sure and shut the door; you come
next, Philip; then Michael, and so on,--every one shutting the door. If
you don't, remember that Cipher has promised to flog you."
The boys saw through the joke, and laughed heartily. "Jingo, that is a
good one, Paul. Cipher will be as mad as a March hare. I'll make the old
door rattle," said Hans.
Rap--rap--rap--rap! went the master's ruler upon the window.
"Fall into line, boys," said Paul. They obeyed orders as if he were a
general. "Now remember, every one of you, to shut the door just as soon
as you are in. Do it quick, and take your seats. Don't laugh, but be as
sober as deacons." There was giggling in the ranks. "Silence!" said
Paul. The boys smoothed their faces. Paul opened the door, stepped in,
and shut it in an instant,--slam! Hans opened it,--slam! it went, with a
jar which made the windows rattle. Philip followed,--slam! Michael
next,--bang! it went, jarring the house.
"Let the door be open," said Cipher; but Michael was in his seat;
and--bang! again,--slam!--bang!--slam!--bang! it went.
"Let it be open, I say!" he roared, but the boys outside did not hear
him, and it kept going,--slam!--slam!--slam!--bang!--bang!--bang!--till
the fiftieth boy was in.
"You started that, sir," Cipher said, addressing Paul, for he had
discovered that Paul Parker loved fun, and was a leading spirit among
the boys.
"I obeyed your orders, sir," Paul replied ready to burst into a roar at
the success of his experiment.
"Did you not tell the boys to slam the door as hard as they could?"
"No, sir. I told them to remember what you had said, and that, if they
didn't shut the door, they would get a flogging."
"That is just what he said, Master," said Hans Middlekauf, brimming over
with fun. Cipher could not dispute it. He saw that they had literally
obeyed his orders, and that he had been outwitted. He did not know what
to do; and being weak and inefficient, did nothing.
Paul loved hunting and fishing; on Saturday afternoons he made the woods
ring with the crack of his grandfather's gun, bringing squirrels from
the tallest trees, and taking quails upon the wing. He was quick to see,
and swift to take aim. He was cool of nerve, and so steady of aim that
he rarely missed. It was summer, and he wore no shoes. He walked so
lightly that he scarcely rustled a leaf. The partridges did not see him
till he was close upon them, and then, before they could rise from their
cover flash!--bang!--and they went into his bag.
One day as he was on his return from the woods, with the gun upon his
shoulder, and the powder-horn at his side, he saw a gathering of people
in the street. Men, women, and children were out,--the women without
bonnets. He wondered what was going on. Some women were wringing their
hands; and all were greatly excited.
"O dear, isn't it dreadful!" "What will become of us?" "The Lord have
mercy upon us!"--were the expressions which he heard. Then they wrung
their hands again, and moaned.
"What is up?" he asked of Hans Middlekauf.
"Haven't you heard?"
"No, what is it?"
"Why, there is a big black bull-dog, the biggest that ever was, that has
run mad. He has bitten ever so many other dogs, and horses, sheep, and
cattle. He is as big as a bear, and froths at the mouth. He is the
savagest critter that ever was," said Hans in a breath.
"Why don't somebody kill him?"
"They are afraid of him," said Hans.
"I should think they might kill him," Paul replied.
"I reckon you would run as fast as anybody else, if he should show
himself round here," said Hans.
"There he is! Run! run! run for your lives!" was the sudden cry.
Paul looked up the street, and saw a very large bull-dog coming upon the
trot. Never was there such a scampering. People ran into the nearest
houses, pellmell. One man jumped into his wagon, lashed his horse into a
run, and went down the street, losing his hat in his flight, while Hans
Middlekauf went up a tree.
"Run, Paul! Run! he'll bite you!" cried Mr. Leatherby from the window of
his shoe-shop. People looked out from the windows and repeated the cry,
a half-dozen at once; but Paul took no notice of them. Those who were
nearest him heard the click of his gun-lock. The dog came nearer,
growling, and snarling, his mouth wide open, showing his teeth, his eyes
glaring, and white froth dripping from his lips. Paul stood alone in the
street. There was a sudden silence. It was a scene for a painter,--a
barefoot boy in patched clothes, with an old hat on his head, standing
calmly before the brute whose bite was death in its most terrible form.
One thought had taken possession of Paul's mind, that he ought to kill
the dog.
Nearer, nearer, came the dog; he was not a rod off. Paul had read that
no animal can withstand the steady gaze of the human eye. He looked the
dog steadily in the face. He held his breath. Not a nerve trembled. The
dog stopped, looked at Paul a moment, broke into a louder growl, opened
his jaws wider, his eyes glaring more wildly, and stepped slowly
forward. Now or never, Paul thought, was his time. The breach of the gun
touched his shoulder; his eye ran along the barrel,--bang! the dog
rolled over with a yelp and a howl, but was up again, growling and
trying to get at Paul, who in an instant seized his gun by the barrel,
and brought the breech down upon the dog's skull, giving him blow after
blow.
"Kill him! kill him!" shouted the people from the windows.
"Give it to him! Mash his head!" cried Hans from the tree.
The dog soon became a mangled and bloody mass of flesh and bones. The
people came out from their houses.
"That was well done for a boy," said Mr. Funk.
"Or for a man either," said Mr. Chrome, who came up and patted Paul on
his back.
"I should have thrown my lapstone at him, if I could have got my window
open," said Mr. Leatherby. Mr. Noggin, the cooper, who had taken refuge
in Leatherby's shop, afterwards said that Leatherby was frightened half
to death, and kept saying, "Just as like as not he will make a spring
and dart right through the window!"
"Nobly, bravely done, Paul," said Judge Adams. "Let me shake hands with
you, my boy." He and Mrs. Adams and Azalia had seen it all from their
parlor window.
"O Paul, I was afraid he would bite and kill you, or that your gun would
miss fire. I trembled all over just like a leaf," said Azalia, still
pale and trembling. "O, I am so glad you have killed him!" She looked up
into his face earnestly, and there was such a light in her eyes, that
Paul was glad he had killed the dog, for her sake.
"Weren't you afraid, Paul?" she asked.
"No. If I had been afraid, I should have missed him, perhaps; I made up
my mind to kill him, and what was the use of being afraid?"
Many were the praises bestowed upon Paul. "How noble! how heroic!" the
people said. Hans told the story to all the boys in the village. "Paul
was just as cool as--cool as--a cucumber," he said, that being the best
comparison he could think of. The people came and looked at the dog, to
see how large he was, and how savage, and went away saying, "I am glad
he is dead, but I don't see how Paul had the courage to face him."
Paul went home and told his mother what had happened. She turned pale
while listening to the story, and held her breath, and clasped her
hands; but when he had finished, and when she thought that, if Paul had
not killed the dog, many might have been bitten, she was glad, and said,
"You did right, my son. It is our duty to face danger if we can do
good." A tear glistened in her eye as she kissed him. "God bless you,
Paul," she said, and smiled upon him through her tears.
All the dogs which had been bitten were killed to prevent them from
running mad. A hard time of it the dogs of New Hope had, for some which
had not been bitten did not escape the dog-killers, who went through the
town knocking them over with clubs.
Although Paul was so cool and courageous in the moment of danger, he
trembled and felt weak afterwards when he thought of the risk he had
run. That night when he said his evening prayer, he thanked God for
having protected him. He dreamed it all over again in the night. He saw
the dog coming at him with his mouth wide open, the froth dropping from
his lips, and his eyes glaring. He heard his growl,--only it was not a
growl, but a branch of the old maple which rubbed against the house when
the wind blew. That was what set him a-dreaming. In his dream he had no
gun, so he picked up the first thing he could lay his hands on, and let
drive at the dog. Smash! there was a great racket, and a jingling of
glass. Paul was awake in an instant, and found that he had jumped out of
bed, and was standing in the middle of the floor, and that he had
knocked over the spinning-wheel, and a lot of old trumpery, and had
thrown one of his grandfather's old boots through the window.
"What in the world are you up to, Paul?" his mother asked, calling from
the room below, in alarm.
"Killing the dog a second time, mother," Paul replied, laughing and
jumping into bed again.