"Papa says, 'God bless everybody.'"
"Well, God bless everybody."
"God bless everybody," responded Budge, and turned silently and went
up-stairs.
"Bless your tormenting honest little heart," I said to myself; "if men
trusted God as you do your papa, how little business there'd be for
preachers to do."
The night was a perfect one. The pure fresh air, the perfume of the
flowers, the music of the insect choir in the trees and shrubbery--the
very season itself seemed to forbid my reading philosophy, so I laid
Fiske aside, delighted myself with a few rare bits from Paul Hayne's
new volume of poems, read a few chapters of "One Summer," and finally
sauntered off to bed. My nephews were slumbering sweetly; it seemed
impossible that the pure, exquisite, angelic faces before me belonged
to my tormentors of a few hours before. As I lay on my couch I could
see the dark shadow and rugged crest of the mountain; above it, the
silver stars against the blue, and below it the rival lights of the
fireflies against the dark background formed by the mountain itself. No
rumbling of wheels tormented me, nor any of the thousand noises that
fill city air with the spirit of unrest, and I fell into a wonder
almost indignant that sensible, comfortable, loving beings could live
in horrible New York, while such delightful rural homes were so near at
hand. Then Alice Mayton came into my mind, and then a customer; later,
stars and trademarks, and bouquets, and dirty nephews, and fireflies
and bad accounts, and railway tickets, and candy and Herbert Spencer,
mixed themselves confusingly in my mind. Then a vision of a proud
angel, in the most fashionable attire and a modern carriage, came and
banished them all by its perfect radiance, and I was sinking in the
most blissful unconsciousness--
"Ah--h--h--h--h--h--oo--oo--oo--oo--ee--ee--ee--"
"Sh--h--h!" I hissed.
The warning was heeded, and I soon relapsed into oblivion.
"Ah--h--h--h--oo--oo--ee--ee--ee--BE--ee."
"Toddie, do you want uncle to whip you?"
"No."
"Then lie still."
"Well, Ize lost my dolly, an' I tant find her anywhere."
"Well, I'll find her for you in the morning."
"Oo--oo--ee--I wants my dolly."
"Well, I tell you I'll find her for you in the morning."
"I want her NOW--oo--oo--"
"You can't have her now, so you can go to sleep."
"Oh--oo--oo--oo--ee--"
Springing madly to my feet, I started for the offender's room. I
encountered a door ajar by the way, my forehead being first to discover
it. I ground my teeth, lit a candle, and said something--no matter what.
"Oh, you said a bad swear!" ejaculated Toddie. "You won't go to heaven
when you die."
"Neither will you, if you howl like a little demon all night. Are you
going to be quiet, now?"
"Yesh, but I wants my dolly."
"_I_ don't know where your dolly is--do you suppose I'm going to search
this entire house for that confounded dolly?"
"'TAIN'T 'founded. I wants my dolly."
"I don't know where it is; you don't think I stole your dolly, do you?"
"Well, I wants it, in de bed wif me."
"Charles," said I, "when you arise in morning, I hope your doll will be
found. At present, however, you must be resigned and go to sleep. I'll
cover you up nicely;" here I began to rearrange the bed-clothing, when
the fateful dolly, source of all my woes, tumbled out of them. Toddie
clutched it, his whole face lighting up with affectionate delight, and
he screamed:--
"Oh, dare is my dee dolly: tum to your own papa, dolly, an' I'll love
you."
And that ridiculous child was so completely satisfied by his outlay of
affection that my own indignation gave place to genuine artistic
pleasure. One CAN tire of even beautiful pictures, though, when he is
not fully awake, and is holding a candle in a draught of air; so I
covered my nephews and returned to my own room, where I mused upon the
contradictoriness of childhood until I fell asleep.
In the morning I was awakened very early by the light streaming in the
window, the blinds of which I had left open the night before. The air
was alive with bird-songs, and the eastern sky was flushing with tints
which no painter's canvas ever caught. But ante-sunrise skies and songs
are not fit subjects for the continued contemplation of men who read
until midnight; so I hastily closed the blinds, drew the shade, dropped
the curtains and lay down again, dreamily thanking heaven that I was to
fall asleep to such exquisite music. I am sure that I mentally forgave
all my enemies as I dropped off into a most delicious doze, but the
sudden realization that a light hand was passing over my cheek roused
me to savage anger in an instant. I sprang up, and saw Budge shrink
timidly away from my bedside.
"I was only a-lovin' you, cos you was good, and brought us candy. Papa
lets us love him whenever we want to--every morning he does."
"As early as this?" demanded I.
"Yes, just as soon as we can see, if we want to."
Poor Tom! I never COULD comprehend why with a good wife, a comfortable
income, and a clear conscience, he need always look thin and
worn--worse than he ever did in Virginia woods or Louisiana swamps. But
now I knew all. And yet, what could one do? That child's eyes and
voice, and his expression, which exceeded in sweetness that of any of
the angels I had ever imagined,--that child could coax a man to do more
self-forgetting deeds than the shortening of his precious
sleeping-hours amounted to. In fact, he was fast divesting me of my
rightful sleepiness, so I kissed him and said:--
"Run to bed, now, dear old fellow, and let uncle go to sleep again.
After breakfast, I'll make you a whistle."
"Oh, will you?" The angel turned into a boy at once. "Yes; now run
along."
"A LOUD whistle--a real loud one?"
"Yes, but not if you don't go right back to bed."
The sound of little footsteps receded as I turned over and closed my
eyes. Speedily the bird-song seemed to grow fainter; my thoughts
dropped to pieces; I seemed to be floating on fleecy clouds, in company
with hundreds of cherubs with Budge's features and night-drawers--
"Uncle Harry!"
May the Lord forget the prayer I put up just then!
"Uncle Harry!"
"I'll discipline you, my fine little boy," thought I. "Perhaps, if I
let you shriek your abominable little throat hoarse, you'll learn
better than to torment your uncle, that was just getting ready to love
you dearly."
"Uncle Har-RAY!"
"Howl, away, you little imp," thought I. "You've got me wide awake, and
your lungs may suffer for it." Suddenly I heard, although in sleepy
tones, and with a lazy drawl, some words which appalled me. The
murmurer was Toddie:--
"Want--she--wheels--go--wound."
"Budge!" I shouted, in the desperation of my dread lest Toddie, too,
might wake up, "what DO you want?"
"Uncle Harry!"
"WHAT!"
"Uncle Harry, what kind of wood are you going to make the whistle out
of?"
"I won't make any at all--I'll cut a big stick and give you a sound
whipping with it, for not keeping quiet, as I told you to."'
"Why, Uncle Harry, papa don't whip us with sticks--he spanks us."
Heavens! Papa! papa! papa! Was I never to have done with this eternal
quotation of "papa"? I was horrified to find myself gradually
conceiving a dire hatred of my excellent brother-in-law. One thing was
certain, at any rate: sleep was no longer possible; so I hastily
dressed, and went into the garden. Among the beauty and the fragrance
of the flowers, and in the delicious morning air, I succeeded in
regaining my temper, and was delighted, on answering the
breakfast-bell, two hours later, to have Budge accost me with:--
"Why, Uncle Harry, where was you? We looked all over the house for you,
and couldn't find a speck of you."
The breakfast was an excellent one. I afterward learned that Helen,
dear old girl, had herself prepared a bill of fare for every meal I
should take in the house. As the table talk of myself and nephews was
not such as could do harm by being repeated, I requested Maggie, the
servant, to wait upon the children, and I accompanied my request with a
small treasury note. Relieved, thus, of all responsibility for the
dreadful appetites of my nephews, I did full justice to the repast, and
even regarded with some interest and amusement the industry of Budge
and Toddie with their tiny forks and spoons. They ate rapidly for a
while, but soon their appetites weakened and their tongues were
unloosed.
"Ocken Hawwy," remarked Toddie, "daysh an awfoo funny chunt up
'tairs--awfoo BIG chunt. I show it you after brepspup."
"Toddie's a silly little boy," said Budge; "he always says brepspup for
brekbux." [Footnote: Breakfast.]
"Oh! What does he mean by chunt, Budge?"
"I GUESS he means trunk," replied my oldest nephew.
Recollections of my childish delight in rummaging an old trunk--it
seems a century ago that I did it--caused me to smile sympathetically
at Toddie, to his apparent great delight. How delightful it is to
strike a sympathetic chord in child-nature, thought I; how quickly the
infant eye comprehends the look which precedes the verbal expression of
an idea! Dear Toddie! for years we might sit at one table, careless of
each other's words, but the casual mention of one of thy delights has
suddenly brought our souls into that sweetest of all human
communions--that one which doubtless bound the Master himself to that
apostle who was otherwise apparently the weakest among the chosen
twelve. "An awfoo funny chunt" seemed to annihilate suddenly all
differences of age, condition and experience between the wee boy and
myself, and--
A direful thought struck me. I dashed up-stairs and into my room. Yes,
he DID mean my trunk. _I_ could see nothing funny about it--quite the
contrary. The bond of sympathy between my nephew and myself was
suddenly broken. Looking at the matter from the comparative distance
which a few weeks have placed between that day and this, I can see that
I was unable to consider the scene before me with a calm and
unprejudiced mind. I am now satisfied that the sudden birth and hasty
decease of my sympathy with Toddie were striking instances of human
inconsistency. My soul had gone out to his because he loved to rummage
in trunks, and because I imagined he loved to see the monument of
incongruous material which resulted from such an operation; the scene
before me showed clearly that I had rightly divined my nephew's nature.
And yet my selfish instincts hastened to obscure my soul's vision, and
to prevent that joy which should ensue when "Faith is lost in full
fruition."
My trunk had contained nearly everything, for while a campaigner I had
learned to reduce packing to an exact science. Now, had there been an
atom of pride in my composition I might have glorified myself, for it
certainly seemed as if the heap upon the floor could never have come
out of a single trunk. Clearly, Toddie was more of a general
connoisseur than an amateur in packing. The method of his work I
quickly discerned, and the discovery threw some light upon the size of
the heap in front of my trunk. A dress-hat and its case, when their
natural relationship is dissolved, occupy nearly twice as much space as
before, even if the former contains a blacking-box not usually kept in
it, and the latter contains a few cigars soaking in bay rum. The same
might be said of a portable dressing-case and its contents, bought for
me in Vienna by a brother ex-soldier, and designed by an old
continental campaigner to be perfection itself. The straps which
prevented the cover from falling entirely back had been cut, broken or
parted in some way, and in its hollow lay my dresscoat, tightly rolled
up. Snatching it up with a violent exclamation, and unrolling it, there
dropped from it--one of those infernal dolls. At the same time a howl
was sounded from the doorway.
"You tookted my dolly out of her cradle--I want to wock my
dolly--oo--oo--oo--ee--ee--ee--"
"You young scoundrel," I screamed--yes, howled, I was so enraged--"I've
a great mind to cut your throat this minute. What do you mean by
meddling with my trunk?"
"I--doe--know." Outward turned Toddie's lower lip; I believe the sight
of it would move a Bengal tiger to pity, but no such thought occurred
to me just then.
"What made you do it?"
"BE--cause."
"Because what?"
"I--doe--know."
Just then a terrific roar arose from the garden. Looking out, I saw
Budge with a bleeding finger upon one hand, and my razor in the other;
he afterward explained he had been making a boat, and that knife was
bad to him. To apply adhesive plaster to the cut was the work of but a
minute, and I had barely completed this surgical operation when Tom's
gardener-coachman appeared and handed me a letter. It was addressed in
Helen's well-known hand, and read as follows (the passages in brackets
were my own comments):--
"BLOOMDALE, June 21, 1875.
"DEAR HARRY:--I'm very happy in the thought that you are with my
darling children, and, although I'm having a lovely time here, I often
wish I was with you. [Ump--so do I.] I want you to know the little
treasures real well. [Thank you, but I don't think I care to extend the
acquaintanceship farther than is absolutely necessary.] It seems to me
so unnatural that relatives know so little of those of their own blood,
and especially of the innocent little spirits whose existence is almost
unheeded. [Not when there's unlocked trunks standing about, sis.]
"Now I want to ask a favor of you. When we were boys and girls at home,
you used to talk perfect oceans about physiognomy, and phrenology, and
unerring signs of character. I thought it was all nonsense then, but if
you believe any of it NOW, I wish you'd study the children, and give me
your well-considered opinion of them. [Perfect demons, ma'am; imps,
rascals, born to be hung--both of them.]
"I can't get over the feeling that dear Budge is born for something
grand. [Grand nuisance.] He is sometimes so thoughtful and so absorbed,
that I almost fear the result of disturbing him; then, he has that
faculty of perseverance which seems to be the on|y thing some men have
lacked to make them great. [He certainly has it; he exemplified it
while I was trying to get to sleep this morning.]
"Toddie is going to make a poet or a musician or an artist. [That's so;
all abominable scamps take to some artistic pursuit as an excuse for
loafing.] His fancies take hold of him very strongly. [They do--they
do; "shee wheels go wound," for instance.] He has not Budgie's sublime
earnestness, but he doesn't need it; the irresistible force with which
he is drawn toward whatever is beautiful compensates for the lack.
[Ah--perhaps that explains his operation with my trunk.] But I want
your OWN opinion, for I know you make more careful distinction in
character than I do.
"Delighting myself with the idea that I deserve most of the credit for
the lots of reading you will have done by this time, and hoping I shall
soon have a line telling me how my darlings are, I am as ever,
"Your loving sister,
"HELEN."
Seldom have I been so roused by a letter as I was by this one, and
never did I promise myself more genuine pleasure in writing a reply. I
determined that it should be a masterpiece of analysis and of calm yet
forcible expression of opinion.
Upon one step, at any rate, I was positively determined. Calling the
girl, I asked her where the key was that locked the door between my
room and the children.
"Please, sir, Toddie threw it down the well."
"Is there a locksmith in the village?"
"No, sir; the nearest one is at Paterson."
"Is there a screwdriver in the house?"
"Yes, sir."
"Bring it to me, and tell the coachman to get ready at once to drive me
to Paterson."
The screwdriver was brought, and with it I removed the lock, got into
the carriage, and told the driver to take me to Paterson by the
hill-road--one of the most beautiful roads in America.
"Paterson!" exclaimed Budge. "Oh, there's a candy-store in that town,
come on, Toddie."
"Will you?" thought I, snatching the whip and giving the horses a cut.
"Not if _I_ can help it. The idea of having such a drive spoiled by the
clatter of SUCH a couple!"
Away went the horses, and up rose a piercing shriek and a terrible
roar. It seemed that both children must have been mortally hurt, and I
looked out hastily, only to see Budge and Toddie running after the
carriage, and crying pitifully. It was too pitiful,--I could not have
proceeded without them, even if they had been afflicted with small-pox.
The driver stopped of his own accord,--he seemed to know the children's
ways and their results,--and I helped Budge and Toddie in, meekly
hoping that the eye of Providence was upon me, and that so
self-sacrificing an act would be duly passed to my credit. As we
reached the hill-road, my kindness to my nephews seemed to assume,
greater proportions, for the view before me was inexpressibly
beautiful. The air was perfectly clear, and across two score towns I
saw the great metropolis itself, the silent city of Greenwood beyond
it, the bay, the narrows, the sound, the two silvery rivers lying
between me and the Palisades, and even, across and to the south of
Brooklyn, the ocean itself. Wonderful effects of light and shadow,
picturesque masses, composed of detached buildings so far distant that
they seemed huddled together; grim factories turned to beautiful
palaces by the dazzling reflection of sunlight from their window-panes;
great ships seeming in the distance to be toy-boats floating
idly;--with no sign of life perceptible, the whole scene recalled the
fairy stories, read in my youthful days, of enchanted cities, and the
illusion was greatly strengthened by the dragon-like shape of the roof
of New York's new post-office, lying in the center of everything, and
seeming to brood over all.
"Uncle Harry!"
Ah, that was what I expected!
"Uncle Harry!"
"Well, Budge?"
"I always think that looks like heaven."
"What does?"
"Why, all that,--from here over to that other sky way back there behind
everything, I mean. And I think THAT (here he pointed toward what
probably was a photographer's roof-light)--that place where it's so
shiny, is where God stays."
Bless the child! The scene had suggested only elfindom to ME, and yet I
prided myself on my quick sense of artistic effects.
"An' over there where that awful bright LITTLE speck is," continued
Budge, "that's where dear little brother Phillie is; whenever I look
over there, I see him putting his hand out."
"Dee 'ittle Phillie went to s'eep in a box and the Lord took him to
heaven," murmured Toddie, putting together all he had seen and heard of
death. Then he raised his voice, and exclaimed:--
"Ocken Hawwy, you know what Iz'he goin' do when I be's big man? Iz'he
goin' to have hosses and tarridge, an' Iz'he goin' to wide over all ze
chees an' all ze houses, an' all ze world an' evvyfing. An' whole lots
of little birdies is comin' in my tarridge an' sing songs to me, an'
you can come too if you want to, an' we'll have ICE-cream an'
'trawberries, an' see 'ittle fishes swimmin' down in ze water, an'
we'll get a g'eat big house that's all p'itty on the outshide an' all
p'itty on the inshide, and it'll all be ours and we'll do just evvyfing
we want to."
"Toddy, you're an idealist."
"AIN'T a 'dealisht."
"Toddy's a goosey-gander," remarked Budge, with great gravity. "Uncle
Harry, do you think heaven's as nice as that place over there?"
"Yes, Budge, a great deal nicer."
"Then why don't we die an' go there? I don't want to go on livin'
forever an' ever. I don't see why we don't die right away; I think
we've lived enough of days."
"The Lord wants us to live until we get good and strong and smart, and
do a great deal of good before we die, old fellow--that's why we don't
die right away."
"Well, I want to see dear little Phillie, an' if the Lord won't let him
come down here, I think he might let me die an' go to heaven. Little
Phillie always laughed when I jumped for him. Uncle Harry, angels has
wings, don't they?"
"Some people think they have, old boy."
"Well, I know they DON'T, cos if Phillie had wings, I know he'd fly
right down here an' see me. So they don't."
"But maybe he has to go somewhere else, Budge, or maybe he comes and
you can't see him. We can't see angels with OUR eyes, you know."
"Then what made the Hebrew children in the fiery furnace see one? Their
eyes was just like ours, wasn't they? I don't care; I want to see dear
little Phillie AWFUL much. Uncle Harry, if I went to heaven, do you
know what I'd do?"
"What WOULD you do, Budge?"
"Why, after I saw little Phillie, I'd go right up to the Lord an' give
him a great big hug."
"What for, Budge?"
"Oh, cos he lets us have nice times, an' gave me my mama an' papa, an'
Phillie--but he took him away again--an' Toddie, but Toddie's a
dreadful bad boy sometimes, though."
"Very true, Budge," said I, remembering my trunk and the object of my
ride.
"Uncle Harry, did you ever see the Lord?"
"No, Budge; he has been very close to me a good many times, but I never
saw him."
"Well, _I_ have; I see him every time I look up in the sky, and there
ain't nobody 'with me."
The driver crossed himself and whispered, "He's foriver a-sayin' that,
an' be the powers, I belave him. Sometimes ye'd think that the howly
saints thimselves was a-sphak-in' whin that bye gits to goin' on that
way." It WAS wonderful. Budge's countenance seemed too pure to be of
the earth as he continued to express his ideas of the better land and
its denizens. As for Toddie, his tongue was going incessantly, although
in a tone scarcely audible; but when I chanced to catch his
expressions, they were so droll and fanciful, that I took him upon my
lap that I might hear him more distinctly. I even detected myself in
the act of examining the mental draft of my proposed letter to Helen,
and of being ashamed of it. But neither Toddie's fancy nor Budge's
spirituality caused me to forget the principal object of my ride. I
found a locksmith and left the lock to be fitted with a key; then we
drove to the Falls. Both boys discharged volleys of questions as we
stood by the gorge, and the fact that the roar of the falling water
prevented me from hearing them did not cause them to relax their
efforts in the least. I walked to the hotel for a cigar, taking the
children with me. I certainly spent no more than three minutes in
selecting and lighting a cigar, and asking the barkeeper a few
questions about the Falls; but when I turned, the children were
missing, nor could I see them in any direction. Suddenly before my eyes
arose from the nearer brink of the gorge two yellowish disks, which I
recognized as the hats of my nephews; then I saw between the disks and
me two small figures lying upon the ground. I was afraid to shout, for
fear of scaring them, if they happened to hear me, I bounded across the
grass, industriously raving and praying by turns. They were lying on
their stomachs and looking over the edge of the cliff. I approached
them on tip-toe, threw myself upon the ground, and grasped a foot of
each child.
"Oh, Uncle Harry!" screamed Budge in my ear, as I dragged him close to
me, kissing and shaking him alternately, "I hunged over more than
Toddie did."
"Well, I--I--I--I--I--I--I hunged over a good deal, ANY how," said
Toddie, in self-defense.
That afternoon I devoted to making a bouquet for Miss Mayton, and a
most delightful occupation I found it. It was no florist's bouquet,
composed of only a few kinds of flowers, wired upon sticks, and
arranged according to geometric pattern. I used many a rare flower, too
shy of bloom to recommend itself to florists; I combined tints almost
as numerous as the flowers were, and perfumes to which city bouquets
are utter strangers. Arranging flowers is a favorite pastime of mine,
but upon this particular occasion I enjoyed my work more than I had
ever done before. Not that I was in love with Miss Mayton; a man may
honestly and strongly admire a handsome, brilliant woman without being
in love with her; he can delight himself in trying to give her
pleasure, without feeling it necessary that she shall give him herself
in return. Since I arrived at years of discretion, I have always smiled
sarcastically at the mention of the generosity of men who were in love;
they have seemed to me rather to be asking an immense price for what
they offered. I had no such feeling toward Miss Mayton. There have been
heathens who have offered gifts to goddesses out of pure adoration and
without any idea of ever having the exclusive companionship of their
favorite divinities. I never offered Miss Mayton any attention which
did not put me into closer sympathy with these same great-souled old
Pagans, and with such Christians as follow their good example. With
each new grace my bouquet took on, my pleasure and satisfaction
increased at the thought of how SHE would enjoy the completed evidence
of my taste.
At length it was finished, but my delight suddenly became clouded by
the dreadful thought, "What will folks say?" Had we been in New York
instead of Hillcrest, no one but the florist, his messenger, the lady
and myself would know if I sent a bouquet to Miss Mayton; but in
Hillcrest, with its several hundred native-born gossips and its
acquaintance of everybody with everybody else and their affairs, I
feared talk. Upon the discretion of Mike, the coachman, I could safely
rely; I had already confidentially conveyed sundry bits of fractional
currency to him, and informed him of one of the parties at our store
whose family Mike had known in Old Erin; but every one knew where Mike
was employed; every one knew--mysterious, unseen and swift are the ways
of communication in the country!--that I was the only gentleman at
present residing at Colonel Lawrence's. Ah!--I had it. I had seen in
one of the library-drawers a small pasteboard box, shaped like a
band-box--doubtless THAT would hold it. I found the box--it was of just
the size I needed. I dropped my card into the bottom,--no danger of a
lady not finding the card accompanying a gift of flowers,--neatly
fitted the bouquet in the center of the box, and went in search of
Mike. He winked cheeringly as I explained the nature of his errand, and
he whispered:--
"I'll do it as clane as a whistle, yer honor. Mistress Clarkson's cook
an' mesilf understhand each other, an' I'm used to goin' up the back
way. Dhivil a man can see but the angels, an' they won't tell."
"Very well, Mike; here's a dollar for you; you'll find the box on the
hat-rack in the hall."
Half an hour later, while I sat in my chamber window, reading, I beheld
Mike, cleanly shaved, dressed and brushed, swinging up the road, with
my box balanced on one of his enormous hands. With a head full of
pleasing fancies, I went down to supper. My new friends were unusually
good. Their ride seemed to have toned down their boisterousness and
elevated their little souls; their appetites exhibited no diminution of
force, but they talked but little, and all that they said was smart,
funny, or startling--so much so that when, after supper, they invited
me to put them to bed, I gladly accepted the invitation. Toddie
disappeared somewhere, and came back very disconsolate.
"Can't find my dolly's k'adle," he whined.
"Never mind, old pet," said I, soothingly. "Uncle will ride you on his
foot."
"But I WANT my dolly's k'adle," said he, piteously rolling out his
lower lip.
I remembered my experience when Toddie wanted to "shee wheels go
wound," and I trembled.
"Toddie," said I, in a tone so persuasive that it would be worth
thousands a year to me, as a salesman, if I could only command it at
will; "Toddie, don't you want to ride on uncle's back?"
"No: want my dolly's k'adle."
"Don't you want me to tell you a story?"
For a moment Toddie's face indicated a terrible internal conflict
between old Adam and mother Eve, but curiosity finally overpowered
natural depravity, and Toddie murmured:--
"Yesh."
"What shall I tell you about?"
"'Bout Nawndeark."
"About WHAT?"
"He means Noah an' the ark," exclaimed Budge.
"Datsh what _I_ shay--Nawndeark," declared Toddie.
"Well," said I, hastily refreshing my memory by picking up the
Bible,--for Helen, like most people, is pretty sure to forget to pack
her Bible when she runs away from home for a few days,--"well, once it
rained forty days and nights, and everybody was drowned from the face
of the earth excepting Noah, a righteous man, who was saved, with all
his family, in an ark which the Lord commanded him to build."
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, after contemplating me with open eyes and
mouth for at least two minutes after I had finished, "do you think
that's Noah?"
"Certainly, Budge; here's the whole story in the Bible."
"Well, _I_ don't think it's Noah one single bit," said he, with
increasing emphasis.
"I'm beginning to think we read different Bibles, Budge; but let's hear
YOUR version."
"Huh?"
"Tell ME about Noah, if you know so much about him."
"I will, if you want me to. Once the Lord felt so uncomfortable cos
folks was bad that he was sorry he ever made anybody, or any world or
anything. But Noah wasn't bad--the Lord liked him first-rate, so he
told Noah to build a big ark, and then the Lord would make it rain so
everybody should be drownded but Noah an' his little boys an' girls,
an' doggies an' pussies an' mama-cows an' little-boy-cows an'
little-girl-cows an' hosses an' everything--they'd go in the ark an'
wouldn't get wetted a bit, when it rained. An' Noah took lots of things
to eat in the ark--cookies, an' milk, an' oatmeal, an' strawberries,
an' porgies, an'--oh, yes; an' plum-puddin's an' pumpkin-pies. But Noah
didn't want everybody to get drownded, so he talked to folks an' said,
'It's goin' to rain AWFUL pretty soon; you'd better be good, an' then
the Lord'll let you come into my ark.' An' they jus' said, 'Oh, if it
rains we'll go in the house till it stops;' an' other folks said, 'WE
ain't afraid of rain--we've got an umbrella.' An' some more said, they
wasn't goin' to be afraid of just a rain. But it DID rain though, an'
folks went in their houses, an' the water came in, an' they went
up-stairs, an' the water came up there, an' they got on the tops of the
houses, an' up in big trees, an' up in mountains, an' the water went
after 'em everywhere an' drownded everybody, only just except Noah and
the people in the ark. An' it rained forty days an' nights, an' then it
stopped, an' Noah got out of the ark, an' he and his little boys an'
girls went wherever they wanted to, and everything in the world was all
theirs; there wasn't anybody to tell 'em to go home, nor no
Kindergarten schools to go to, nor no bad boys to fight 'em, nor
nothin'. Now tell us 'nother story."
I determined that I would not again attempt to repeat portions of the
Scripture narrative--my experience in that direction had not been
encouraging. I ventured upon a war story.
"Do you know what the war was?" I asked, by way of reconnoissance.
"Oh, yes," said Budge; "papa was there, an' he's got a sword; don't you
see it, hangin' up there?"
Yes, I saw it, and the difference between the terrible field where last
I saw Tom's sword in action, and this quiet room where it now hung,
forced me into a reverie from which I was aroused by Budge remarking:--
"Ain't you goin' to tell us one?"
"Oh, yes, Budge. One day while the war was going on, there was a whole
lot of soldiers going along a road, and they were as hungry as they
could be; they hadn't had anything to eat that day."
"Why didn't they go into the houses, and the people they was hungry?
That's what _I_ do when I goes along roads."
"Because the people in that country didn't like them; the brothers and
papas and husbands of those people were soldiers, too; but they didn't
like the soldiers I told you about first, and they wanted to kill them."
"I don't think they were a bit nice," said Budge, with considerable
decision.
"Well, the first soldiers wanted to kill THEM, Budge."
"Then they was ALL bad, to want to kill each other."
"Oh, no, they weren't; there were a great many real good men on both
sides."
Poor Budge looked sadly puzzled, as he had an excellent right to do,
since the wisest and best men are sorely perplexed by the nature of
warlike feeling.
"Both parties of soldiers were on horseback," I continued, "and they
were near each other, and when they saw each other they made their
horses run fast, and the bugles blew, and the soldiers all took their
swords out to kill each other with, when just then a little boy, who
had been out in the woods to pick berries for his mama, tried to run
across the road, and caught his toe some way, and fell down, and cried.
Then somebody hallooed 'Halt!' very loud, and all the horses on one
side stopped, and then somebody else hallooed 'Halt!' and a lot of
bugles blew, and every horse on the other; side stopped, and one
soldier jumped off his horse, and picked up the little boy--he was only
about as big as you, Budge--and tried to comfort him; and then a
soldier from the other side came up to look at him, and then more
soldiers came from both sides to look at him; and when he got better
and walked home, the soldiers all rode away, because they didn't feel
like fighting just then."
"Oh, Uncle Harry! I think it was an AWFUL good soldier that got off his
horse to take care of that poor little boy."
"Do you, Budge? Who do you think it was?"
"I dunno."
"It was your papa."
"Oh--h--h--h--h!" If Tom could have but seen the expression upon his
boy's face as he prolonged this exclamation, his loss of one of the
grandest chances a cavalry officer ever had would not have seemed so
great to him as it had done for years. He seemed to take in the story
in all its bearings, and his great eyes grew in depth as they took on
the far-away look which seemed too earnest for the strength of an
earthly being to support.
But Toddie,--he who a fond mama thought endowed with art sense,--Toddie
had throughout my recital the air of a man who was musing on some
affair of his own, and Budge's exclamation had hardly died away, when
Toddie commenced to wave aloud an extravaganza wholly his own.
"When _I_ was a soldier," he remarked, very gravely, "I had a coat an'
a hat on, an' a muff an' a little knake [Footnote: Snake: tippet.]
wound my neck to keep me warm, an' it wained, an' hailed, an' 'tormed,
an' I felt bad, so I whallowed a sword an' burned me all down dead."
"And how did you get here?" I asked, with interest proportioned to the
importance of Toddie's last clause.
"Oh, I got up from the burn-down dead, an' COMED right here. An' I want
my dolly's k'adle."
Oh persistent little dragon! If you were of age, what a fortune you
might make in business!
"Uncle Harry, I wish my papa would come home right away," said Budge.
"Why, Budge?"
"I want to love him for bein' so good to that poor little boy in the
war."
"Ocken Hawwy, I wants my dolly's k'adle, tause my dolly's in it, an' I
want to shee her;" thus spake Toddie.
"Don't you think the Lord loved my papa awful much for doin' that sweet
thing, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge.
"Yes, old fellow, I feel sure that he did."
"Lord lovesh my papa vewy much, so I love ze Lord vewy much," remarked
Toddie. "An' I wants my dolly's k'adle an' my dolly."
"Toddie, I don't know where either of them are--I can't find them
now--DO wait until morning, then Uncle Harry will look for them."
"I don't see how the Lord can get along in heaven without my papa,
Uncle Harry," said Budge.
"Lord takesh papa to heaven, an' Budgie an' me, an' we'll go walkin'
an' see ze Lord, an' play wif ze angels' wings, an' hazh good timsh,
an' never have to go to bed at all, at all."
Pure hearted little innocents! compared with older people whom we
endure, how great thy faith and how few thy faults! How superior thy
love--
A knock at the door interrupted me. "Come in!" I shouted.
In stepped Mike, with an air of the greatest secrecy, handed me a
letter and the identical box in which I had sent the flowers to Miss
Mayton. What COULD it mean? I hastily opened the envelope, and at the
same time Toddie shrieked:--
"Oh, darsh my dolly's k'adle--dare 'tish!" snatched and opened the box,
and displayed--his doll! My heart sickened, and did NOT regain its
strength during the perusal of the following note:--
"Miss Mayton herewith returns to Mr. Burton the package which just
arrived, with his card. She recognizes the contents as a portion of the
apparent property of one of Burton's nephews, but is unable to
understand why it should have been sent to her. "June 20, 1875."
"Toddie," I roared, as my younger nephew caressed his loathsome doll,
and murmured endearing words to it, "where did you get that box?"
"On the hat-wack," replied the youth, with perfect fearlessness; "I
keeps it in ze book-case djawer, an' somebody took it 'way an' put
nasty ole flowers in it."
"Where are those flowers?" I demanded.