"Well, we'll call that the risin'-bell. You can ring another bell for
breakfast pretty soon when I get dressed." Then this volunteer adjuster
of household affairs came calmly back and commenced dressing in good
earnest, while I labored along with Toddie's wardrobe.
"Where's the button-hook, Budge?" said I.
"It's--I--oh--um--I put it--say, Tod, what did you do with the
button-hook yesterday?"
"Didn't hazh no button-hook," asserted Toddie.
"Yes, you did; don't you remember how we was a playin' draw teef, an'
the doctor's dog had the toofache, and I was pullin' his teef with the
button-hook, an' you was my little boy, an' I gived the toof-puller to
you to hold for me? Where did you put it?"
"I'D no," replied Toddie, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing
out a sickly-looking toad.
"Feel again," said I, throwing the toad out the window, where it was
followed by an agonizing shriek from Toddie. Again he felt, and his
search was rewarded by the tension screw of Helen's sewing-machine.
Then I attempted some research myself, and speedily found my fingers
adhering to something of a sticky consistency. I quickly withdrew my
hand, exclaiming:--
"What nasty stuff HAVE you got in your pocket, Toddie?"
"'Taint nashty' tuff--it's byead an' 'lasses, an' its nice, an' Budge
an' me hazh little tea-parties in de kicken-coop, an' we eats it, an'
it's DOVELY."
All this was lucid and disgusting, but utterly unproductive of
button-hooks, and meanwhile the breakfast was growing cold. I succeeded
in buttoning Toddie's shoes with my fingers, splitting most of my nails
in the operation. I had been too busily engaged with Toddie to pay any
attention to Budge, who I now found about half dressed and trying to
catch flies on the windowpane. Snatching Toddie, I started for the
dining-room, when Budge remarked reprovingly:--
"Uncle Harry, YOU wasn't dressed when the bell rang, and YOU oughtn't
to have any breakfast."
True enough--I was minus collar, cravat, and coat. Hurrying these on,
and starting again, I was once more arrested:--
"Uncle Harry, must I brush my teeth this morning?"
"No--hurry up--come down without doing anything more, if you like, but
COME--it'll be dinner-time before we get breakfast."
Then that imp was moved, for the first time that morning, to something
like good-nature, and he exclaimed with a giggle:--
"My! What big stomachs we'd have when we got done, wouldn't we?"
At the breakfast table Toddie wept again, because I insisted on
beginning operations before Budge came. Then neither boys knew exactly
what he wanted. Then Budge managed to upset the contents of his plate
into his lap, and while I was helping him clear away the debris, Toddie
improved the opportunity to pour his milk upon his fish, and put
several spoonfuls of oatmeal porridge into my coffee-cup. I made an
early excuse to leave the table and turn the children over to Maggie. I
felt as tired as if I had done a hard day's work, and was somewhat
appalled at realizing that the day had barely begun. I lit a cigar and
sat down to Helen's piano. I am not a musician, but even the chords of
a hand-organ would have seemed sweet music to me on that morning. The
music-book nearest to my hand was a church hymn-book, and the first air
my eye struck was "Greenville." I lived once in a town, where, on a
single day, a pedler disposed of thirty-eight accordeons, each with an
instruction-book in which this same air under its original name was the
ONLY air. For years after, a single bar of this air awakened the most
melancholy reflections in my mind, but now I forgave all my musical
tormentors as the familiar strains came comfortingly from the
piano-keys. But suddenly I heard an accompaniment--a sort of reedy
sound--and, looking around, I saw Toddie again in tears. I stopped
abruptly and asked:--
"What's the matter NOW, Toddie?"
"Don't want dat old tune; wantsh dancin' tune, so I can dance."
I promptly played "Yankee Doodle," and Toddie began to trot around the
room with the expression of a man who intended to do his whole duty.
Then Budge appeared, hugging a bound volume of "St. Nicholas." The
moment Toddie espied this he stopped dancing and devoted himself anew
to the task of weeping.
"Toddie," I shouted, springing from the piano-stool, "what do you mean
by crying at everything? I shall have to put you to bed again, if
you're going to be such a baby."
"That's the way he ALWAYS does, rainy days," explained Budge.
"Wantsh to see the whay-al what fwollowed Djonah," sobbed Toddie.
"Can't you demand something that's within the range of possibility,
Toddie?" I mildly asked.
"The whale Toddie means is in this big red book,--I'll find it for
you," said Budge, turning over the leaves.
Suddenly a rejoicing squeal from Toddie announced that leviathan had
been found, and I hastened to gaze. He was certainly a dreadful-looking
animal, but he had an enormous mouth, which Toddie caressed with his
pudgy little hand, and kissed with tenderness, murmuring as he did so:--
"DEE old whay-al, I loves you. Is Jonah all goneded out of you 'tomach,
whay-al? I finks 'twas weal mean in Djonah to get froed up when you
hadn't noffin' else to eat, POOR old whay-al."
"Of COURSE Jonah's gone," said Budge, "he went to heaven long
ago--pretty soon after he went to Nineveh an' done what the Lord told
him to do. Now swing us, Uncle Harry."
The swing was on the piazza under cover from the rain; so I obeyed.
Both boys fought for the right to swing first, and when I decided in
favor of Budge, Toddie went off weeping, and declaring that he would
look at his dear whay-al anyhow. A moment later his wail changed to a
piercing shriek; and running to his assistance, I saw him holding one
finger tenderly and trampling on a wasp.
"What's the matter, Toddie?"
"Oo--oo--ee--ee--ee--EE--I putted my finger on a waps, and--oo--oo--the
nasty waps--oo--bited me. An' I don't like wapses a bit, but I likes
whay-als--oo--ee--ee."
A happy thought struck me. "Why don't you boys make believe that big
packing-box in your play-room is a whale?" said I.
A compound shriek of delight followed the suggestion, and both boys
scrambled upstairs, leaving me a free man again. I looked remorsefully
at the tableful of books which I had brought to read, and had not
looked at for a week. Even now my remorse did not move me to open
them--I found myself instead attracted toward Tom's library, and
conning the titles of novels and volumes of poems. My eye was caught by
"Initial,"--a love-story which I had always avoided because I had heard
impressible young ladies rave about it; but now I picked it up and
dropped into an easy chair. Suddenly I heard Mike the coachman
shouting:--
"Go away from there, will ye? Ah, ye little spalpeen, it's good for ye
that yer fahder don't see ye perched up dhere. Go way from dhat, or
I'll be tellin' yer uncle."
"Don't care for nasty old uncle," piped Toddie's voice.
I laid down my book with a sigh, and went into the garden. Mike saw me
and shouted:--
"Misther Burthon, will ye look dhere? Did ye's ever see the loike av
dhat bye?"
Looking up at the play-room window, a long, narrow sort of loop-hole in
a Gothic gable, I beheld my youngest nephew standing upright on the
sill.
"Toddie, go in--quick!" I shouted, hurrying under the window to catch
him in case he fell outward.
"I tan't," squealed Toddie.
"Mike, run up-stairs and snatch him in; Toddie, go on, I tell you!"
"Tell you I TAN'T doe in," repeated Toddie. "ZE bit bots ish ze
whay-al, an' I'ez Djonah, an' ze whay-al's froed me up, an' I'ze dot to
'tay up here else ze whay-al 'ill fwallow me aden."
"I won't LET him swallow you. Get in now--hurry," said I.
"Will you give him a penny not to fwallow me no more?" queried Toddie.
"Yes--a whole lot of pennies."
"Aw wight. Whay-al, don't you fwallow me no more, an' zen my Ocken
Hawwy div you whole lots of pennies. You must be weal dood whay-al now,
an' then I buys you some tandy wif your pennies, an'--"
Just then two great hands seized Toddie's frock in front, and he
disappeared with a howl, while I, with the first feeling of faintness I
had ever experienced, went in search of hammer, nails, and some strips
of board, to nail on the outside of the window-frame. But boards could
not be found, so I went up to the play-room and began to knock a piece
or two off the box which had done duty as whale. A pitiful scream from
Toddie caused me to stop.
"You're hurtin' my dee old whay-al; you's brakin' his 'tomach all
open--you's a baddy man--'TOP hurtin' my whay-al, ee--ee--ee," cried my
nephew.
"I'm not hurting him, Toddie," said I; "I'm making his mouth bigger, so
he can swallow you easier."
A bright thought came into Toddie's face and shone through his tears.
"Then he can fwallow Budgie too, an' there'l be two
Djonahs--ha--ha--ha! Make his mouf so big he can fwallow Mike, an' zen
mate it 'ittle aden, so Mike tan' det OUT; nashty old Mike!"
I explained that Mike would not come upstairs again, so I was permitted
to depart after securing the window.
Again I settled myself with book and cigar; there was at least for me
the extra enjoyment that comes from the sense of pleasure earned by
honest toil. Pretty soon Budge entered the room. I affected not to
notice him, but he was not in the least abashed by my neglect.
"Uncle Harry," said he, throwing himself in my lap between my book and
me, "I don't feel a bit nice."
"What's the matter, old fellow?" I asked. Until he spoke I could have
boxed his ears with great satisfaction to myself; but there is so much
genuine feeling in whatever Budge says that he commands respect.
"Oh, I'm tired of playin' with Toddie, an' I feel lonesome. Won't you
tell me a story?"
"Then what'll poor Toddie do, Budge?"
"Oh, he won't mind--he's got a dead mouse to be Jonah now, so I don't
have no fun at all. Won't you tell me a story?"
"Which one?"
"Tell me one that I never heard before at all."
"Well, let's see; I guess I'll tell--"
"Ah--ah--ah--ah--ee--ee--ee," sounded afar off, but fatefully. It came
nearer--it came down the stairway and into the library, accompanied by
Toddie, who, on spying me, dropped his inarticulate utterance, held up
both hands, and exclaimed:--
"Djonah bwoke he tay-al!"
True enough; in one hand Toddie held the body of a mouse, and in the
other that animal's caudal appendage; there was also perceptible,
though not by the sense of sight, an objectionable odor in the room.
"Toddie," said I, "go throw Jonah into the chicken-coop, and I'll give
you some candy."
"Me too," shouted Budge, "cos I found the mouse for him."
I made both boys happy with candy, exacted a pledge not to go out in
the rain, and then, turning them loose on the piazza, returned to my
book. I had read perhaps half-a-dozen pages when there arose and
swelled rapidly in volume a scream from Toddie. Madly determined to put
both boys into chairs, tie them and clap adhesive plaster over their
mouths, I rushed out upon the piazza.
"Budgie tried to eat my candy," complained Toddie.
"I didn't," said Budge.
"What DID you do?" I demanded.
"I didn't bite it at all--I only wanted to see how it would feel
between my teeth--that's all."
I felt the corners of my mouth breaking down, and hurried back to the
library, where I spent a quiet quarter of an hour in pondering over the
demoralizing influence exerted upon principle by a sense of the
ludicrous. For some time afterward the boys got along without doing
anything worse than make a dreadful noise, which caused me to resolve
to find some method of deadening piazza-floors if _I_ ever owned a
house in the country. In the occasional intervals of comparative quiet
I caught snatches of very funny conversation. The boys had coined a
great many words whose meaning was evident enough but I wonder greatly
why Tom and Helen had never taught them the proper substitutes.
Among others was the word "deader," whose meaning I could not imagine.
Budge shouted:--
"O Tod; there comes a deader. See where all them things like rooster's
tails are a-shakin'?--Well, there's a deader under them."
"Dasth funny," remarked Toddie.
"An' see all the peoples a-comin' along," continued Budge, "THEY know
'bout the deader, an' they're goin' to see it fixed. Here it comes.
Hello, deader!"
"Hay-oh, deader," echoed Toddie.
What COULD deader mean?
"Oh, here it is right in front of us," cried Budge, "and AIN'T there
lots of people? An' two horses to pull the deader--SOME deaders has
only one."
My curiosity was too much for my weariness; I went to the front window,
and, peering through, saw--a funeral procession! In a second I was on
the piazza, with my hands on the children's collars; a second later two
small boys were on the floor of the hall, the front door was closed,
and two determined hands covered two threatening little mouths.
When the procession had fairly passed the house I released the boys and
heard two prolonged howls for my pains. Then I asked Budge if he wasn't
ashamed to talk that way when a funeral was passing.
"'TWASN'T a funeral," said he. "'Twas only a deader, an' deaders can't
hear nothin'."
"But the people in the carriages could," said I.
"Well," said he, "they was so glad that the other part of the deader
had gone to heaven that they didn't care WHAT I said. Ev'rybody's glad
when the other parts of deaders go to heaven. Papa told me to be glad
that dear little Phillie was in heaven, an' I WAS, but I do want to see
him again awful."
"Wantsh to shee Phillie aden awfoo," said Toddie, as I kissed Budge and
hurried off to the library, unfit just then to administer farther
instruction or reproof. Of one thing I was very certain--I wished the
rain would cease falling, so the children could go out of doors, and I
could get a little rest, and freedom from responsibility. But the skies
showed no signs of being emptied, the boys were snarling on the
stairway, and I was losing my temper quite rapidly.
Suddenly I bethought me of one of the delights of my own childish
days--the making of scrap-books. One of Tom's library drawers held a
great many Lady's Journals. Of course Helen meant to have them bound,
but I could easily repurchase the numbers for her; they would cost two
or three dollars; but peace was cheap at that price. On a high shelf in
the playroom I had seen some supplementary volumes of "Mercantile
Agency" reports which would in time reach the rag-bag; there was a
bottle of mucilage in the library-desk, and the children owned an old
pair of scissors. Within five minutes I had located two happy children
on the bath-room floor, taught them to cut out pictures (which
operation I quickly found they understood as well as I did) and to
paste them into the extemporized scrap-book. Then I left them,
recalling something from Newman Hall's address on "The Dignity of
Labor." Why hadn't I thought before of showing my nephews some way of
occupying their mind and hands? Who could blame the helpless little
things for following every prompting of their unguided minds? Had I not
a hundred times been told, when sent to the wood-pile or the weediest
part of the garden in my youthful days, that
"Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do?"
"Never again would I blame children for being mischievous when their
minds were neglected.
I spent a peaceful, pleasant hour over my novel, when I felt that a
fresh cigar would be acceptable. Going up-stairs in search of one I
found that Budge had filled the bathtub with water, and was sailing
boats, that is, hair-brushes. Even this seemed too mild an offense to
call for a rebuke, so I passed on without disturbing him, and went to
my own room. I heard Toddie's voice, and having heard from my sister
that Toddie's conversations with himself were worth listening to, I
paused outside the door. I heard Toddie softly murmur:--
"Zere, pitty yady, 'tay ZERE. Now, 'ittle boy, I put you wif your
mudder, tause mudders likes zere 'ittle boys wif zem. An' you sall have
'ittle sister tudder side of you,--zere. Now, 'ittle boy's an' 'ittle
girl's mudder, don't you feel happy?--isn't I awfoo good to give you
your 'ittle tsilderns? You ought to say, 'Fank you, Toddie,--you'se a
nice, fweet 'ittle djentleman.'"
I peered cautiously--then I entered the room hastily. I didn't say
anything for a moment, for it was impossible to do justice, impromptu,
to the subject. Toddie had a progressive mind--if pictorial
ornamentation was good for old books, why should not similar
ornamentation be extended to objects more likely to be seen? Such may
not have been Toddie's line of thought, but his recent operations
warranted such a supposition. He had cut out a number of pictures, and
pasted them upon the wall of my room--my sister's darling room, with
its walls tinted exquisitely in pink. As a member of a hanging
committee, Toddie would hardly have satisfied taller people, but he had
arranged the pictures quite regularly, at about the height of his own
eyes, had favored no one artist more than another, and had hung
indiscriminately figure pieces, landscapes, and genre pictures. The
temporary break of wall-line, occasioned by the door communicating with
his own room, he had overcome by closing the door and carrying a line
of pictures across its lower panels. Occasionally, a picture fell off
the wall, but the mucilage remained faithful, and glistened with its
fervor of devotion. And yet so untouched was I by this artistic
display, that when I found strength to shout "Toddie!" it was in a tone
which caused this industrious amateur decorator to start violently, and
drop his mucilage-bottle, open end first, upon the carpet.
"What will mamma say?" I asked.
Toddie gazed, first blankly and then inquiringly, into my face; finding
no answer or sympathy there, he burst into tears, and replied:--
"I dunno."
The ringing of the lunch-bell changed Toddie from a tearful cherub into
a very practical, business-like boy, and shouting "Come on, Budge!" he
hurried down-stairs, while I tormented myself with wonder as to how I
could best and most quickly undo the mischief Toddie had done.
I will concede to my nephews the credit of keeping reasonably quiet
during meals; their tongues doubtless longed to be active in both the
principal capacities of those useful members, but they had no doubt as
to how to choose between silence and hunger. The result was a
reasonably comfortable half-hour. Just as I began to cut a melon, Budge
broke the silence by exclaiming:--
"O Uncle Harry, we haven't been out to see the goat to-day!"
"Budge," I replied, "I'll carry you out there under an umbrella after
lunch, and you may play with that goat all the afternoon, if you like."
"Oh, won't that be nice?" exclaimed Budge. "The poor goat! he'll think
I don't love him a bit, 'cause I haven't been to see him to-day. Does
goats go to heaven when they die, Uncle Harry?"
"Guess not--they'd make trouble in the golden streets, I'm afraid."
"Oh, dear! then Phillie can't see my goat. I'm so awful sorry," said
Budge.
"_I_ can see your goat, Budgie," suggested Toddie.
"Huh!" said Budge, very contemptuously. "YOU ain't dead."
"Well, Izhe GOIN' to be dead some day 'an zen your nashty old goat
sha'n't see me a bit--see how he like ZAT." And Toddie made a ferocious
attack on a slice of melon nearly as large as himself.
After lunch Toddie was sent to his room to take his afternoon nap, and
Budge went to the barn on my shoulders. I gave Mike a dollar, with
instructions to keep Budge in sight, to keep him from teasing the goat,
and to prevent his being impaled or butted. Then I stretched myself on
a lounge, and wondered whether only half a day of daylight had elapsed
since I and the most adorable woman in the world had been so happy
together. How much happier I would be when next I met her! The very
torments of this rainy day would make my joy seem all the dearer and
more intense. I dreamed happily for a few moments with my eyes open,
and then somehow they closed, without my knowledge. What put into my
mind the wreck-scene from the play of "David Copperfield," I don't
know; but there it came, and in my dream I was sitting in the balcony
at Booth's, and taking a proper interest in the scene, when it occurred
to me that the thunder had less of reverberation and more woodenness
than good stage thunder should have. The mental exertion I underwent on
this subject disturbed the course of my nap, but as wakefulness
returned, the sound of the poorly simulated thunder did not cease; on
the contrary, it was just as noisy, and more hopelessly a counterfeit
than ever. What could the sound be? I stepped through the window to the
piazza, and the sound was directly over my head. I sprang down the
terrace and out upon the lawn, looked up, and beheld my youngest nephew
strutting back and forth on the tin roof of the piazza, holding over
his head a ragged old parasol. I roared--
"Go in, Toddie--this instant!"
The sound of my voice startled the young man so severely that he lost
his footing, fell, and began to roll toward the edge and to scream,
both operations being performed with great rapidity. I ran to catch him
as he fell, but the outer edge of the water-trough was high enough to
arrest his progress, though it had no effect in reducing the volume of
his howls.
"Toddie," I shouted, "lie perfectly still until uncle can get to you.
Do you hear?"
"Ess, but don't want to lie 'till," came in reply from the roof.
"'Tan't shee noffin' but sky an' rain."
"Lie still," I reiterated, "or I'll whip you dreadfully." Then I dashed
up-stairs, removed my shoes, climbed out and rescued Toddie, shook him
soundly, and then shook myself.
"I wazh only djust pyayin' mamma, an' walkin' in ze yain wif an
umbayalla," Toddie explained.
I threw him upon his bed and departed. It was plain that neither logic,
threats, nor the presence of danger could keep this dreadful child from
doing whatever he chose; what other means of restraint could be
employed? Although not as religious a man as my good mother could wish,
I really wondered whether prayer, as a last resort, might not be
effective. For his good, and my own peace, I would cheerfully have read
through the whole prayer-book. I could hardly have done it just then,
though, for Mike solicited an audience at the back door, and reported
that Budge had given the carriage-sponge to the goat, put handfuls of
oats into the pump-cylinder, pulled hairs out of the black mare's tail,
and with a sharp nail drawn pictures on the enamel of the
carriage-body. Budge made no denial, but looked very much aggrieved,
and remarked that he couldn't never be happy without somebody having to
go get bothered; and he wished there wasn't nobody in the world but
organ-grinders and candy-store men. He followed me into the house,
flung himself into a chair, put on a look which I imagine Byron wore
before he was old enough to be malicious, and exclaimed:--
"I don't see what little boys was made for anyhow; if ev'rybody gets
cross with them, an' don't let 'em do what they want to. I'll bet when
I get to heaven, the Lord won't be as ugly to me as Mike is,--an' some
other folks, too. I wish I could die and be buried right away,--me an'
the goat--an' go to heaven, where we wouldn't be scolded."
Poor little fellow! First I laughed inwardly at his idea of heaven, and
then I wondered whether my own was very different from it, or any more
creditable. I had no time to spend even in pious reflection, however.
Budge was quite wet, his shoes were soaking, and he already had an
attack of catarrh; so I took him to his room and re-dressed him,
wondering all the while how much similar duties my own father had had
to do by me had shortened his life, and how, with such a son as I was,
he lived as long as he did. The idea that I was in some slight degree
atoning for my early sins, so filled my thoughts, that I did not at
first notice the absence of Toddie. When it DID become evident to me
that my youngest nephew was not in the bed in which I had placed him, I
went in search of him. He was in none of the chambers, but hearing
gentle murmurs issue from a long, light closet, I looked in and saw
Toddie sitting on the floor, and eating the cheese out of a mouse-trap.
A squeak of my boots betrayed me, and Toddie, equal to the emergency,
sprang to his feet and exclaimed:--
"I didn't hurt de 'ittle mousie one bittie; I just letted him out, and
he runded away."
And still it rained. Oh, for a single hour of sunlight, so that the mud
might be only damp dirt, and the children could play without tormenting
other people! But it was not to be; slowly, and by the aid of songs,
stories, an improvised menagerie, in which I personated every animal,
besides playing ostrich and armadillo, and a great many disagreements,
the afternoon wore to its close, and my heart slowly lightened. Only an
hour or two more, and the children would be in bed for the night, and
then I would enjoy, in unutterable measure, the peaceful hours which
would be mine. Even now they were inclined to behave themselves; they
were tired and hungry, and stretched themselves on the floor, to await
dinner. I embraced the opportunity to return to my book, but I had
hardly read a page, when a combined crash and scream summoned me to the
dining-room. On the floor lay Toddie, a great many dishes, a roast leg
of lamb, several ears of green corn, the butter-dish and its contents,
and several other misplaced edibles. One thing was quite evident; the
scalding contents of the gravy-dish had been emptied on Toddie's arm,
and how severely the poor child might be scalded I did not know. I
hastily slit open his sleeve from wrist to shoulder, and found the skin
very red; so, remembering my mother's favorite treatment for scalds and
burns, I quickly spread the contents of a dish of mashed potato on a
clean handkerchief, and wound the whole around Toddie's arm as a
poultice. Then I demanded an explanation.
"I was only djust reatchin for a pieshe of bwed," sobbed Toddie, "an'
then the bad old tabo beginded to froe all its fings at me, an' tumble
down bang."
He undoubtedly told the truth as far as he knew it, but reaching over
tables is a bad habit in small boys, especially when their mothers
cling to old-fashioned heirlooms of tables, which have folding leaves;
so I banished Toddie to his room, supperless, to think of what he had
done. With Budge alone, I had a comfortable dinner off the salvage from
the wreck caused by Toddie, and then I went up-stairs to see if the
offender had repented. It was hard to tell, by sight, whether he had or
not, for his back was to me, as he flattened his nose against the
window, but I could see that my poultice was gone.
"Where is what uncle put on your arm, Toddie?" I asked.
"I ate it up," said the truthful youth.
"Did you eat the handkerchief, too?"
"No; I froed nashty old handkerchief out the window--don't want dirty
old handkerchiefs in my nice 'ittle room."
I was so glad that his burn had been slight that I forgave the insult
to my handkerchief and called up Budge, so that I might at once get
both boys into bed, and emerge from the bondage in which I had lived
all day long. But the task was no easy one. Of course my
brother-in-law, Tom Lawrence, knows better than any other man the
necessities of his own children, but no children of mine shall ever be
taught so many methods of imposing upon parental good nature. Their
program called for stories, songs, moral conversations, frolics, the
presentation of pennies, the dropping of the same, at long intervals,
into tin savings banks, followed by a deafening shaking-up of both
banks; then a prayer must be offered, and no conventional one would be
tolerated; then the boys performed their own devotions, after which I
was allowed to depart with an interchange of "God bless you's." As this
evening I left the room with their innocent benedictions sounding in my
ears, a sense of personal weakness, induced by the events of the day,
moved me to fervently respond "Amen!"
Mothers of American boys, accept from me a tribute of respect, which no
words can fitly express--of wonder greater than any of the great things
of the world ever inspired--of adoration as earnest and devout as the
Catholic pays to the Virgin. In a single day, I, a strong man, with
nothing else to occupy my mind, am reduced to physical and mental
worthlessness by the necessities of two boys not overmischievous or
bad. And you--Heaven only knows how--have unbroken weeks, months,
years, yes, lifetimes of just such experiences, and with them the
burden of household cares, of physical ills and depressions, of mental
anxieties that pierce your hearts with as many sorrows as grieved the
Holy Mother of old. Compared with thy endurance, that of the young man,
the athlete, is as weakness; the secret of thy nerves, wonderful even
in their weakness, is as great as that of the power of the winds. To
display decision, thy opportunities are more frequent than those of the
greatest statesman; thy heroism laughs into insignificance that of fort
and field; thou art trained in a school of diplomacy such as the most
experienced court cannot furnish. Do scoffers say thou canst not hold
the reins of government? Easier is it to rule a band of savages than to
be the successful autocrat of thy little kingdom. Compared with the
ways of men, even thy failures are full of glory. Be thy faults what
they may, thy one great, mysterious, unapproachable success places
thee, in desert, far above warrior, rabbi or priest.
The foregoing soliloquy passed through my mind as I lay upon the bed
where I had thrown myself after leaving the children's room. Whatever
else attempted to affect me mentally found my mind a blank until the
next morning, when I awoke to realize that I had dropped asleep just
where I fell, and that I had spent nearly twelve hours lying across a
bed in an uncomfortable position, and without removing my daily attire.
My next impression was that quite a bulky letter had been pushed under
my chamber-door. Could it be that my darling--I hastily seized the
envelope and found it addressed in my sister's writing, and promising a
more voluminous letter than that lady had ever before honored me with.
I opened it, dropping an enclosure which doubtless was a list of
necessities which I would please pack, etc., and read as follows:--
"JULY 1, 1875.
"MY DEAR OLD BROTHER:--WOULDN'T I like to give you the warmest of
sisterly hugs? I can't believe it, and yet I'm in ecstasies over it. To
think that you should have got that perfection of a girl, who has
declined so many great catches--YOU, my sober, business-like,
unromantic big brother--oh, it's too wonderful! But now I think of it,
you're just the people for each other. I'd like to say that it's just
what I'd always longed for, and that I invited you to Hillcrest to
bring it about; but the trouble with such a story would be that it
wouldn't have a word of truth in it. You always DID have a faculty of
doing just what you pleased, and what nobody ever expected you to do,
but now you've exceeded yourself.
"And to think that my little darlings played an important part in
bringing it all about! I shall take the credit for THAT, for if it
hadn't been for me, who would have helped you, sir? I shall expect you
to remember both of them handsomely at Christmas.
"I don't believe I'm guilty of a breach of confidence in sending the
enclosed, which I have just received from my sister-in-law that is to
be. It will tell you some causes of your success of which you, with a
man's conceit, haven't imagined for a minute, and it will tell you,
too, of a maiden's first and natural fear under such circumstances,--a
fear which I know that you, with your honest, generous heart, will
hasten to dispel. As you're a man, you're quite likely to be too stupid
to read what's written between the lines; so I'd better tell you that
Alice's fear is that in letting herself go so easily she may have
seemed to lack proper reserve and self-respect. You don't need to be
told that no woman alive has more of these very qualities.
"Bless your dear old heart, Harry,--you deserve to be shaken to death
if you're not the happiest man alive. I MUST hurry home and see you
both with my own eyes, and learn to believe that all this wonderful
glorious thing has come to pass. Give Alice a sister's kiss from me (if
you know how to give more than one kind), and give my cherubs a hundred
each from the mother that wants to see them so much.
"With love and congratulations,
"HELEN."
The other letter, which I opened with considerable reverence and more
delight, ran as follows:--
"HILLCREST, June 29, 1875.
"DEAR FRIEND HELEN:--Something has happened, and I am very happy, but I
am more than a little troubled over it, too, and as you are one of the
persons nearly concerned, I am going to confess to you as soon as
possible. Harry--your brother, I mean--will be sure to tell you very
soon, if he hasn't done so already, and I want to make all possible
haste to solemnly assure you that _I_ hadn't the slightest idea of such
a thing coming to pass, and I didn't do the slightest thing to bring it
about.
"I always thought your brother was a splendid fellow, and have never
been afraid to express my mind about him, when there was no one but
girls to listen. But out here I've somehow learned to admire him more
than ever. I cheerfully acquit HIM of intentionally doing anything to
create a favorable impression; if his several appearances before me
HAVE been studied, he is certainly the most original being I ever heard
of. Your children are angels--you've told me so yourself, and I've my
own very distinct impression on the subject, but they DON'T study to
save their uncle's appearance. The figures that unfortunate man has cut
several times--well, I won't try to describe them on paper, for fear he
might some day see a scrap of it, and take offense. But he always seems
to be patient with them, and devoted to them, and I haven't been able
to keep from seeing that a man who could be so lovable with thoughtless
and unreasonable children must be perfectly adorable to the woman he
loved, if she were a woman at all. Still, I hadn't the faintest idea
that I would be the fortunate woman. At last THE day came, but I was in
blissful ignorance of what was to happen. Your little Charley hurt
himself, and insisted upon Har--your brother singing an odd song to
him; and just when the young gentleman was doing the elegant to a dozen
of us ladies at once, too! If you COULD have seen his face!--it was too
funny, until he got over his annoyance, and began to feel properly
sorry for the little fellow--then he seemed all at once to be all
tenderness and heart, and I DID wish for a moment that
conventionalities didn't exist, and I might tell him that he was a
model. Then your youngest playfully spilt a plate of soup on my dress
(don't be worried--'twas only a common muslin, and 'twill wash). Of
course I had to change it, and as I retired the happy thought struck me
that I'd make so elaborate a toilet that I wouldn't finish in time to
join the other ladies for the usual evening walk; consequence, I would
have a chance to monopolize a gentleman for half an hour or more--a
chance which, no thanks to the gentlemen who don't come to Hillcrest,
no lady here has had this season. Every time I peered through the
blinds to see if the other girls had started, I could see HIM, looking
so distressed, and brooding over those two children as if he was their
mother, and he seemed so good. He seemed pleased to see ME when I
appeared, and coming from such a man, the implied compliment was fully
appreciated; everything he said to me seemed a little more worth
hearing than if it had come from any man not so good. Then suddenly
your eldest insisted on retailing the result of a conversation he had
had with his uncle, and the upshot was that Harry declared himself; he
wasn't romantic a bit, but he was real straightforward and manly, while
I was so completely taken aback that I couldn't think of a thing to
say. Then the impudent fellow kissed me, and I lost my tongue worse
than ever. If I had known anything of his feelings beforehand, I should
have been prepared to behave more properly; but--O Helen, I'm so glad I
DIDN'T know! I should be the happiest being that ever lived, if I
wasn't afraid that you and your husband might think that I had given
myself away too hastily. As to other people, we will see that they
don't know a word about it for months to come.
"DO write that I was not to blame, and make believe accept me as a
sister, because I CAN'T offer to give Harry up to any one else you may
have picked out for him.
"Your sincere friend,
"ALICE MAYTON."
Was there ever so delightful a reveille? All the boyishness in me
seemed suddenly to come to the surface, and instead of saying and doing
the decorous things which novelists' heroes do under similar
circumstances, I shouted "Hurrah!" and danced into the children's room
so violently that Budge sat up in bed, and regarded me with reproving
eyes, while Toddie burst into a happy laugh, and volunteered as a
partner in the dance. Then I realized that the rain was over, and the
sun was shining--I could take Alice out for another drive, and until
then the children could take care of themselves. I remembered suddenly,
and with a sharp pang, that my vacation was nearly at an end, and I
found myself consuming with impatience to know how much longer Alice
would remain at Hillcrest. It would be cruel to wish her in the city
before the end of August, yet I--
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "my papa says 'tisn't nice for folks to sit
down and go to thinkin' before they've brushed their hair
mornin's--that's what he tells ME."
"I beg your pardon, Budge," said I, springing up in some confusion; "I
was thinking over a matter of a great deal of importance."
"What was it--my goat?"
"No--of course not. Don't be silly, Budge."
"Well, I think about him a good deal, an' I don't think it's silly a
bit. I hope he'll go to heaven when he dies. Do angels have
goat-carriages, Uncle Harry?"
"No, old fellow--they can go about without carriages."
"When _I_ goesh to hebben," said Toddie, rising in bed, "Izhe goin' to
have lots of goat-cawidjes an' Izhe goin' to tate all ze andjels a
widen."
With many other bits of prophecy and celestial description I was
regaled as I completed my toilet, and I hurried out of doors for an
opportunity to think without disturbance. Strolling past the henyard I
saw a meditative turtle, and picking him up and shouting to my nephews
I held the reptile up for their inspection. Their window-blinds flew
open, and a unanimous though not exactly harmonious "Oh!" greeted my
prize.
"Where did you get it, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge.
"Down by the hen-coop."
Budge's eyes opened wide; he seemed to devote a moment to profound
thought, and then he exclaimed:--
"Why, I don't see how the hens COULD lay such a big thing--just put him
in your hat till I come down, will you?"
I dropped the turtle in Budge's wheelbarrow, and made a tour of the
flower-borders. The flowers, always full of suggestion to me, seemed
suddenly to have new charms and powers; they actually impelled me to
try to make rhymes,--me, a steady white-goods salesman! The impulse was
too strong to be resisted, though I must admit that the results were
pitifully meager:--
"As radiant as that matchless rose
Which poet-artists fancy;
As fair as whitest lily-blows,
As modest as the pansy;
As pure as dew which hides within
Aurora's sun-kissed chalice;
As tender as the primrose sweet--
All this, and more, is Alice."
In inflicting this fragment upon the reader, I have not the faintest
idea that he can discover any merit in it; I quote it only that a
subsequent experience of mine may be more intelligible. When I had
composed these wretched lines I became conscious that I had neither
pencil nor paper wherewith to preserve them. Should I lose them--my
first self-constructed poem? Never! This was not the first time in
which I had found it necessary to preserve words by memory alone. So I
repeated my ridiculous lines over and over again, until the eloquent
feeling of which they were the graceless expression inspired me to
accompany my recital with gestures. Six--eight--ten--a dozen--twenty
times I repeated these lines, each time with additional emotion and
gestures, when a thin voice, very near me, remarked:--
"Ocken Hawwy, you does djust as if you was swimmin'."
Turning, I beheld my nephew Toddie--how long he had been behind me I
had no idea. He looked earnestly into my eyes and then remarked:--
"Ocken Hawwy, your faysh is wed, djust like a wosy-posy."
"Let's go right in to breakfast, Toddie," said I aloud, as I grumbled
to myself about the faculty of observation which Tom's children seemed
to have.
Immediately after breakfast I despatched Mike with a note to Alice,
informing her that I would be glad to drive her to the Falls in the
afternoon calling for her at two. Then I placed myself unreservedly at
the disposal of the boys for the morning, it being distinctly
understood that they must not expect to see me between lunch and
dinner. I was first instructed to harness the goat, which order I
obeyed, and I afterward watched that grave animal as he drew my nephews
up and down the carriage-road, his countenance as demure as if he had
no idea of suddenly departing when my back should be turned. The wheels
of the goat carriage uttered the most heartrending noises I had ever
heard from ungreased axle; so I persuaded the boys to dismount, and
submit to the temporary unharnessing of the goat, while I should
lubricate the axles. Half an hour of dirty work sufficed, with such
assistance as I gained from juvenile advice, to accomplish the task
properly; then I put the horned steed into the shafts, Budge cracked
the whip, the carriage moved off without noise, and Toddie began to
weep bitterly.
"Cawwidge is all bwoke," said he; "WHEELSH DON'T SING A BITTIE NO
MORE," while Budge remarked:--
"I think the carriage sounds kind o' lonesome now, don't you, Uncle
Harry?"
"Uncle Harry," asked Budge, a little later in the morning, "do you know
what makes the thunder?"
"Yes, Budge--when two clouds go bump into each other they make a good
deal of noise, and they call it thunder."
"That ain't it at all," said Budge. "When it thundered yesterday it was
because the Lord was riding along through the sky and the wheels of his
carriage made an awful noise, an' that was the thunder."
"Don't like nashty old 'funder," remarked Toddie. "It goesh into our
cellar an' makesh all ze milk sour--Maggie said so. An' so I can't hazh
no nice white tea for my brepspup."
"I should think you'd like the Lord to go a ridin', Toddie, with all
the angels running after him," said Budge, "even if the thunder DOES
make the milk sour. And 'tis so splendid to SEE the thunder bang."
"How do you see it, Budge?" I asked.
"Why, don't you know when the thunder bangs, and then you see an awful
bright place in the sky?--that's where the Lord's carriage gives an
awful pound, and makes little cracks through the floor of heaven, an'
we see right in. But what's the reason we can't ever see anybody
through the cracks, Uncle Harry?"
"I don't know--old fellow,--I guess it's because it isn't cracks in
heaven that look so bright,--it's a kind of fire that the Lord makes up
in the clouds. You'll know all about it when you get bigger."
"Well, I'll feel awful sorry if 'tain't anything but fire. Do you know
that funny song my papa sings 'bout:--
"'Roarin' thunders, lightenin's blazes,
Shout the great Creator's praises?'"
I don't know zactly what it means, but I think it's kind o' splendid,
don't you?"
I DID know the old song; I had heard it in a Western camp-meeting, when
scarcely older than Budge, and it left upon my mind just the effect it
seemed to have done on his. I blessed his sympathetic young heart, and
snatched him into my arms. Instantly he became all boy again.
"Uncle Harry," he shouted, "you crawl on your hands and knees and play
you was a horse, and I'll ride on your back."
"No, thank you, Budge, not on the dirt."
"Then let's play menagerie, an' you be all the animals."
To this proposition I assented, and after hiding ourselves in one of
the retired angles of the house, so that no one could know who was
guilty of disturbing the peace by such dire noises, the performance
commenced. I was by turns a bear, a lion, a zebra, an elephant, dogs of
various kinds, and a cat. As I personated the latter-named animals,
Toddie echoed my voice.
"Miauw! Miauw!" said he, "dat's what cats saysh when they goesh down
wells."
"Faith, an' it's him that knows," remarked Mike, who had invited
himself to a free seat in the menagerie, and assisted in the applause
which had greeted each personation.
"Would ye belave it, Misther Harry, dhat young dhivil got out the front
door one mornin' afore sunroise, all in his little noight-gown, an'
wint over to the doctor's an' picked up a kitten lyin' on the kitchen
door-mat, an' throwed it down dhe well. The docthor wasn't home, but
the missis saw him, an' her heart was dhat tindher that she hurried out
and throwed boords down for dhe poor little baste to stand on, an' let
down a hoe on a sthring, an' whin she got dhe poor little dhing out,
she was dhat faint that she dhrapped on dhe grass. An' it cost Mr.
Lawrence nigh onto thirty dollars to have dhe docthor's well claned
out."
"Yes," said Toddie, who had listened carefully to Mike's recital, "an'
kitty-kitty said, 'Miauw! Miauw!' when she goed down ze well. An' Mish
Doctor sed, 'Bad boy--go home--don't never tum to my housh no
more,'--dat's what she said to me. Now be some more animals, Ocken
Hawwy. Can't you be a whay-al?"
"Whales don't make a noise, Toddie; they only splash about in the
water."
"Zen grop in the cistern an' 'plash, can't you?"
Lunch-time, and after it the time for Toddie to take his nap. Poor
Budge was bereft of a playmate, for the doctor's little girl was sick;
so he quietly followed me about with a wistful face, that almost
persuaded me to take him with me on my drive--OUR drive. Had he
grumbled, I would have felt less uncomfortable; but there's nothing so
touching and overpowering to either gods or men as the spectacle of
mute resignation. At last, to my great relief, he opened his mouth.
"Uncle Harry," said he, "do you 'spose folks ever get lonesome in
heaven?"
"I guess not, Budge."
"Do little boy-angels' papas an' mammas go off visitin', an' stay so
long?"
"I don't exactly know, Budge, but if they do, the little boy-angels
have plenty of other little boy-angels to play with, so they can't very
well be lonesome."
"Well, I don't b'leeve they could make ME happy, when I wanted to see
my papa an' mamma. When I haven't got anybody to play with, then I want
papa an' mamma SO bad--so bad as if I would die if I didn't see 'em
right away."
I was shaving, and only half-done, but I hastily wiped off my face,
dropped into a rocking-chair, took the forlorn little boy into my arms,
and kissed him, caressed him, sympathized with him, and devoted myself
entirely to the task and pleasure of comforting him. His sober little
face gradually assumed a happier appearance; his lips parted in such
lines as no old master ever put upon angel lips; his eyes from being
dim and hopeless, grew warm and lustrous and melting. At last he said:--
"Uncle Harry, I'm EVER so happy now. An' can't Mike go around with me
and the goat all the time you're away riding? An' bring us home some
candy, an' marbles--oh, yes--an' a new dog."
Anxious as I was to hurry off to meet my engagement, I was rather
disgusted as I unseated Budge and returned to my razor. So long as he
was lonesome and I was his only hope, words couldn't express his
devotion, but the moment he had, through my efforts, regained his
spirits, his only use for me was to ask further favors. Yet in trying
the poor boy, judicially, the evidence was more dangerous to humanity
in general than to Budge; it threw a great deal of light upon my own
peculiar theological puzzles, and almost convinced me that my duty was
to preach a new gospel.
As I drove up to the steps of Mrs. Clarkson's boarding-house it seemed
to me a month had elapsed since last I was there, and this apparent
lapse of time was all that prevented my ascribing to miraculous
agencies the wonderful and delightful change that Alice's countenance
had undergone in two short days. Composure, quickness of perception,
the ability to guard one's self, are indications of character which are
particularly in place in the countenance of a young lady in society,
but when, without losing these, the face takes on the radiance born of
love and trust, the effect is indescribably charming--especially to the
eyes of the man who causes the change. Longer, more out-of-the-way
roads between Hillcrest and the Falls I venture to say were never known
than I drove over that afternoon, and my happy companion, who in other
days I had imagined might one day, by her decision, alertness and force
exceed the exploits of Lady Baker or Miss Tinne, never once asked if I
was sure we were on the right road. Only a single cloud came over her
brow, and of this I soon learned the cause.
"Harry," said she, pressing closer to my side, and taking an appealing
tone, "do you love me well enough to endure something unpleasant for my
sake?"
My answer was not verbally expressed, but its purport seemed to be
understood and accepted, for Alice continued:--
"I wouldn't undo a bit of what's happened--I'm the happiest, proudest
woman in the world. But we HAVE been very hasty, for people who have
been mere acquaintances. And mother is dreadfully opposed to such
affairs--she is of the old style, you know."
"It was all my fault," said I. "I'll apologize promptly and handsomely.
The time and agony which I didn't consume in laying siege to your heart
I'll devote to the task of gaining your mother's good graces."
The look I received in reply to this remark would have richly repaid me
had my task been to conciliate as many mothers-in-law as Brigham Young
possesses. But her smile faded as she said:--
"You don't know what a task you have before you. Mother has a very
tender heart, but it's thoroughly fenced in by proprieties. In her day
and set, courtship was a very slow, stately affair, and mother believes
it the proper way now; so do I, but I admit possible exceptions, and
mother doesn't. I'm afraid she won't be patient if she knows the whole
truth, yet I can't bear to keep it from her. I'm her only child, you
know."
"DON'T keep it from her," said I, "unless for some reason of your own.
Let me tell the whole story, take all the responsibility, and accept
the penalties, if there are any. Your mother is right in principle, if
there IS a certain delightful exception that we know of."
"My only fear is for YOU," said my darling, nestling closer to me. "She
comes of a family that can display most glorious indignation when
there's a good excuse for it, and I can't bear to think of YOU being
the cause of such an outbreak."
"I've faced the ugliest of guns in honor of one form of love, little
girl," I replied, "and I could do even more for the sentiment for which
YOU'RE to blame. And for my own sake, I'd rather endure anything than a
sense of having deceived any one, especially the mother of such a
daughter. Besides, you're her dearest treasure, and she has a right to
know of even the least thing that in any way concerns you."
"And you're a noble fellow, and--" Whatever other sentiment my
companion failed to put into words was impulsively and eloquently
communicated by her dear eyes.
But oh, what a cowardly heart your dear cheek rested upon an instant
later, fair Alice! Not for the first time in my life did I shrink and
tremble at the realization of what duty imperatively required--not for
the first time did I go through a harder battle than was ever fought
with sword and cannon, and a battle with greater possibilities of
danger than the field ever offered. I won it, as a man must do in such
fights, if he deserves to live; but I could not help feeling
considerably sobered on our homeward drive.
We neared the house, and I had an insane fancy that instead of driving
two horses I was astride of one, with spurs at my heels and a saber at
my side.
"Let me talk to her NOW, Alice, won't you? Delays are only cowardly."
A slight trembling at my side,--an instant of silence that seemed an
hour, yet within which I could count but six footfalls, and Alice
replied:--
"Yes; if the parlor happens to be empty, I'll ask her if she won't go
in and see you a moment." Then there came a look full of tenderness,
wonder, painful solicitude, and then two dear eyes filled with tears.
"We're nearly there, darling," said I, with a reassuring embrace.
"Yes, and you sha'n't be the only hero," said she, straightening
herself proudly, and looking a fit model for a Cenobia.
As we passed from behind a clump of evergreens which hid the house from
our view, I involuntarily exclaimed, "Gracious!" Upon the piazza stood
Mrs. Mayton; at her side stood my two nephews, as dirty in face, in
clothing, as I had ever seen them. I don't know but that for a moment I
freely forgave them, for their presence might grant me the respite
which a sense of duty would not allow me to take.
"Wezhe comed up to wide home wif you," exclaimed Toddie, as Mrs. Mayton
greeted me with an odd mixture of courtesy, curiosity and humor. Alice
led the way into the parlor whispered to her mother, and commenced to
make a rapid exit, when Mrs. Mayton called her back, and motioned her
to a chair. Alice and I exchanged sidelong glances.
"Alice says you wish to speak with me, Mr. Burton," said she. "I wonder
whether the subject is one upon which I have this afternoon received a
minute verbal account from the elder Master Lawrence."
"If you refer to an apparently unwarrantable intrusion upon your family
circle, Mrs.--"
"I do, sir," replied the old lady. "Between the statements made by that
child, and the hitherto unaccountable change in my daughter's looks
during two or three days, I think I have got at the truth of the
matter. If the offender were any one else, I should be inclined to be
severe; but we mothers of only daughters are apt to have a pretty
distinct idea of the merits of young men, and--"
The old lady dropped her head; I sprang to my feet, seized her hand,
and reverently kissed it; then Mrs. Mayton, whose only son had died
fifteen years before, raised her head and adopted me in the manner
peculiar to mothers, while Alice burst into tears and kissed us both.
A few moments later, as three happy people were occupying conventional
attitudes, and trying to compose faces which should bear the inspection
of whoever might happen into the parlor, Mrs. Mayton observed:--
"My children, between us this matter is understood, but I must caution
you against acting in such a way as to make the engagement public at
once."
"Trust me for that," hastily exclaimed Alice.
"And me," said I.
"I have no doubt of the intentions and discretion of either of you,"
resumed Mrs. Mayton, "but you cannot possibly be too cautious." Here a
loud laugh from the shrubbery under the windows drowned Mrs. Mayton's
voice for a moment, but she continued: "Servants, children,"--here she
smiled, and I dropped my head--"persons you may chance to meet--"
Again the laugh broke forth under the window.
"What CAN those girls be laughing at?" exclaimed Alice, moving toward
the window, followed by her mother and me.
Seated in a semicircle on the grass were most of the ladies boarding at
Mrs. Clarkson's, and in front of them stood Toddie, in that high state
of excitement to which sympathetic applause always raises him.
"Say it again," said one of the ladies.
Toddie put on an expression of profound wisdom, made violent gestures
with both hands and repeated the following, with frequent
gesticulations:--
"Azh wadiant azh ze matchless wose
Zat poeck-artuss fanshy;
Azh fair azh whituss lily-blowzh;
Azh moduss azh a panzhy;
Azh pure azh dew zat hides wiffin
Awwahwah's sun-tissed tsallish;
Azh tender azh ze pwimwose fweet
All zish, and moah, izh Alish."