A TRIP TO THE SEASHORE
In the comparative leisure which the children enjoyed during August,
they felt amply repaid for the toil of the previous months. We also
managed to secure two great gala-days. The first was spent in a trip to
the seashore; and this was a momentous event, marred by only one slight
drawback. The "Mary Powell," a swift steamer, touched every morning at
the Maizeville Landing. I learned that, from its wharf, in New York,
another steamer started for Coney Island, and came back in time for us
to return on the "Powell" at 3.30 P.M. Thus we could secure a
delightful sail down the river and bay, and also have several hours on
the beach. My wife and I talked over this little outing, and found that
if we took our lunch with us, it would be inexpensive. I saw Mr. Jones,
and induced him and his wife, with Junior, to join us. Then the
children were told of our plan, and their hurrahs made the old house
ring. Now that we were in for it, we proposed no half-way measures.
Four plump spring chickens were killed and roasted, and to these were
added so many ham sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, that I declared that
we were provisioned for a week. My wife nodded at Bobsey, and said,
"Wait and see!"
Whom do you think we employed to mount guard during our absence? No
other than Bagley. Mr. Jones said that it was like asking a wolf to
guard the flock, for his prejudices yielded slowly; but I felt sure
that this proof of trust would do the man more good than a dozen
sermons.
Indeed, he did seem wonderfully pleased with his task, and said, "Ye'll
find I've 'arned my dollar when ye git back."
The children scarcely slept in their glad anticipation, and were up
with the sun. Mr. and Mrs. Jones drove down in their light wagon, while
Junior joined our children in another straw-ride, packed in between the
lunch-baskets. We had ample time after reaching the landing to put our
horses and vehicles in a safe place, and then we watched for the
"Powell." Soon we saw her approaching Newtown, four miles above, then
speeding toward the wharf, and rounding into it, with the ease and
grace of a swan. We scrambled aboard, smiled at by all. I suppose we
did not form, with our lunch-baskets, a very stylish group, but that
was the least of our troubles. I am satisfied that none of the elegant
people we brushed against were half so happy as we were.
We stowed away our baskets and then gave ourselves up to the enjoyment
of the lovely Highland scenery, and to watching the various kinds of
craft that we were constantly passing. Winnie and Bobsey had been
placed under bonds for good behavior, and were given to understand that
they must exercise the grace of keeping moderately still. The sail down
the river and bay was a long, grateful rest to us older people, and I
saw with pleasure that my wife was enjoying every moment, and that the
fresh salt breeze was fanning color into her cheeks. Plump Mrs. Jones
dozed and smiled, and wondered at the objects we passed, for she had
never been much of a traveller; while her husband's shrewd eyes took in
everything, and he often made us laugh by his quaint remarks. Junior
and Merton were as alert as hawks. They early made the acquaintance of
deck-hands who good-naturedly answered their numerous questions. I took
the younger children on occasional exploring expeditions, but never
allowed them to go beyond my reach, for I soon learned that Bobsey's
promises sat lightly on his conscience.
At last we reached the great Iron Pier at Coney Island, which we all
traversed with wondering eyes.
We established ourselves in a large pavilion, fitted up for just such
picnic parties as ours. Beneath us stretched the sandy beach. We
elderly people were glad enough to sit down and rest, but the children
forgot even the lunch-baskets, so eager were they to run upon the sand
in search of shells.
All went well until an unusually high wave came rolling in. The
children scrambled out of its way, with the exception of Bobsey, who
was caught and tumbled over, and lay kicking in the white foam. In a
moment I sprang down the steps, picked him up, and bore him to his
mother.
He was wet through; and now what was to be done?
After inquiry and consultation, I found that I could procure for him a
little bathing-dress which would answer during the heat of the day, and
an old colored woman promised to have his clothing dry in an hour. So
the one cloud on our pleasure proved to have a very bright lining, for
Bobsey, since he was no longer afraid of the water, could roll in the
sand and the gentle surf to his heart's content.
Having devoured a few sandwiches to keep up our courage, we all
procured bathing-dresses, even Mrs. Jones having been laughingly
compelled by her husband to follow the general example. When we all
gathered in the passage-way leading to the water, we were convulsed
with laughter at our ridiculous appearance; but there were so many
others in like plight that we were scarcely noticed. Mrs. Jones's dress
was a trifle small, and her husband's immensely large. He remarked that
if we could now take a stroll through Maizeville, there wouldn't be a
crow left in town.
Mrs. Jones could not be induced to go beyond a point where the water
was a foot or two deep, and the waves rolled her around like an amiable
porpoise. Merton and Junior were soon swimming fearlessly, the latter
wondering, meanwhile, at the buoyant quality of the salt water. My
wife, Mousie, and Winnie allowed me to take them beyond the breakers,
and soon grew confident. In fifteen minutes I sounded recall, and we
all emerged, lank Mr. Jones now making, in very truth, an ideal
scarecrow. Bobsey's dry garments were brought, and half an hour later
we were all clothed, and, as Mr. Jones remarked, "For a wonder, in our
right minds."
The onslaught then made on the lunch-baskets was never surpassed, even
at that place of hungry excursionists. In due time we reached home,
tired, sleepy, yet content with the fact that we had filled one day
with enjoyment and added to our stock of health.
The next morning proved that Bagley had kept his word. Everything was
in order, and the amount of work accomplished in the garden showed that
he had been on his mettle. Hungry as we had been, we had not emptied
our lunch-baskets, and my wife made up a nice little present from what
remained, to which was added a package of candy, and all was carried to
the Bagley cottage.
Juvenile experiences had not exactly taught the Bagley children that
"the way of the transgressor is hard,"--they had not gone far enough
for that,--and it certainly was our duty to add such flowers as we
could to the paths of virtue.
The month of August was now well advanced. We had been steadily digging
the potatoes in the field and selling them in their unripened
condition, until half the acre had been cleared. The vines in the lower
half of the patch were now growing very yellow, and I decided to leave
them, until the tubers should thoroughly ripen, for winter use. By the
20th of the month we had all the space that had been cleared, that is,
half an acre, filled with Duchess and Wilson strawberries; and the
plants first set were green and vigorous, with renewed running
tendencies. But the runners were promptly cut off, so that the plants
might grow strong enough to give a good crop of fruit in the following
June.
I now began to tighten the reins on the children, and we all devoted
more hours to work.
During the month we gathered a few bushels of plums on the place. My
wife preserved some, and the rest were sold at the boarding-houses and
village stores, for Mr. Bogart had written that when I could find a
home market for small quantities of produce, it would pay me better
than to send them to the city. I kept myself informed as to city
prices, and found that he had given me good and disinterested advice.
Therefore, we managed to dispose of our small crop of early pears and
peaches as we had done with the plums. Every day convinced me of the
wisdom of buying a place already stocked with fruit; for, although the
first cost was greater, we had immediately secured an income which
promised to leave a margin of profit after meeting all expenses.
During the last week of August the potatoes were fully ripe, and
Merton, Winnie, Bobsey, and I worked manfully, sorting the large from
the small, as they were gathered. The crop turned out very well,
especially on the lower side of the field, where the ground had been
rather richer and moister than in the upper portion.
I did not permit Merton to dig continuously, as it was hard work for
him; but he seemed to enjoy throwing out the great, smooth,
white-coated fellows, and they made a pretty sight as they lay in thick
rows behind us, drying, for a brief time, in the sun. They were picked
up, put into barrels, drawn to the dry, cool shed, and well covered
from the light. Mr. Jones had told me that as soon as potatoes had
dried off after digging, they ought to be kept in the dark, since too
much light makes them tough and bitter. Now that they were ripe, it was
important that they should be dug promptly, for I had read that a warm
rain is apt to start the new potatoes to growing, and this spoils them
for table use.
So I said: "We will stick to this task until it is finished, and then
we shall have another outing. I am almost ready to begin rebuilding the
barn; but before I do so, I wish to visit Houghton Farm, and shall take
you all with me. I may obtain some ideas which will be useful, even in
my small outlay of money."