I HAD been disturbing the centre of gravity of our globe for nine
years, and had grown up into a mischievous, fun-making urchin—always
out of the way when wanted, and in the way when not. I would have
passed any committee on “boys,” and probably taken the medal as the
best specimen. I had fulfilled all the requisites of custom. I had torn
out all my pockets with loads of marbles, knives, strings, stones,
buttons, nails, &c. I had cut my hands and fingers, and fallen out of
doors perhaps even more than was necessary. I could soil a ruffle with
all the facility of contempt for such a feminine ornament. I could wear
out shoes and tear a hat as quickly as the most reckless, and I had a
real, first class aversion to “trying on” clothes in process of making;
the rough edges of an unfinished jacket, rubbed into my neck by the
fingers of the seamstress, not at all according with that placidity
of temperament I had been advised to cultivate by the dogs-and-bears
poetry, while the rapidity with which I could cover clean clothes with
mud was, I fear, a matter of peculiar pride, as it was of certain
punishment. My most perfect attribute of boyhood, however, was the
devotion I bore my sweetheart, and the utter apathy and indifference
with which I regarded all other girls.
Being such an one, I was highly gratified when mother said to me one
day:
“Johnnie, we are going to give a dinner party next week, and as you
will be without company, you may go over and invite Lulie Mayland.”
“Oh! I’m so glad, I’m so glad,” I sung out; “and I mean to go over
right now, and tell her to come.”
“No, no,” said mother, smiling, and taking me by the jacket button, “we
have not sent out our cards yet. Wait till Monday, then you may go.”
I was disposed to whine at the delay, but she pinched my cheek as she
got up from her chair, and said:
“No, you must do as I say, sir;” and left me, full of impatience for
the advent of Monday. During the remainder of the week I exercised
fully the child’s faculty of being ubiquitous at home. The kitchen,
however, received the largest share of my attention. I was around every
table, dipping in every dish, and in the cook’s way, to my fullest
extent. If she turned around with a pan in her hand, it was sure to
thump my head, and my anger thereat could only be appeased by letting
me have a piece of dough to feel or a bowl to scrape. If eggs were
to be beaten, I must try to froth them, till I was as full of foam
as a half born Aphrodite; if flour was to be sifted, I was sure to
get whitened; if spices were to be pounded I was certain to have my
fingers mashed; and the burns I received, in trying to cook little
dabs of cake, would have discouraged Mucius Scævola. Then my insatiate
curiosity, and constant inquiries in regard to the numerous articles
scattered around, would have worried out a less irascible nature than
that of our cook; and by a final appeal to mother, and a command from
headquarters, I would be forced to raise the siege, and retire from
the field, with a jacket full of sugar and flour, sullenly licking my
fingers in defiance.
Verily, children prove the old adage true: “Satan finds some mischief
still for idle hands to do.”
And yet how dear to us are their mischievous ways, and how blank and
drear would childhood be without them! The sunshine of their presence
is always brightest when flecked by little clouds of annoyance.
And when your tenderest bud has been plucked by the Reaper, your
heartstrings throb saddest o’er the toy that’s broken, and your tears
fall in torrents o’er the little torn garment, while the clothes neatly
folded pass unnoticed by.
Early Monday morning I hurried over to tell Lulie. As I entered
her gate I discovered her at play, near a large rose bush, but was
surprised and troubled to see a strange boy with her. I had somehow,
in my own mind at least, assumed a kind of proprietorship over her,
and the presence of any one else, in whom she could take any interest
whatever, was excessively annoying. I managed to creep up quite near,
without being discovered, and stood for some time watching them, and
feeling, in my jealousy, an almost irresistible desire to try a stone
on the strange head. They were busy arranging a doll house, which
consisted of rows of dirt piled up like fortifications, with lumps of
moss for chairs and sofas, and an array of dolls that seemed to have
been taken from the hospital, so much were they maimed in their legs
and arms.
The strange boy and Lulie seemed very intimate, and bent their heads
together, and talked in delighted and animated accents; he suggesting,
and she listening and adopting his suggestions. And then he had on such
new clothes, such a jaunty cap, such a blue jacket with bright buttons,
and such boots with heels! In him I recognized a formidable rival, and
concluded to retreat and give up all thoughts of the invitation. As I
endeavored to slip away unobserved, I overturned a little tea set that
was placed to one side, awaiting the completion of the house. At the
noise they both turned around and saw me, and Lulie’s face flushed a
little as she exclaimed:
“There, now! see what you have done! turned over all my tea cups and
broken I don’t know how many!”
I offered, with all earnestness, the child’s universal apology, “I
didn’t go to do it,” but felt that it was not accepted, and that I,
Lulie’s acknowledged sweetheart, was not welcome. But boys are not
oversensitive, and as I knew that to retire then would only make
matters worse, I swallowed my confusion and joined in their play.
Lulie did not introduce me to her companion, but I soon learned that
his name was Frank, and that he was fast supplanting me in her favor.
All my suggestions in regard to the disposition and arrangement of the
furniture were at once overruled and disregarded for what he thought
best.
All her questions and remarks were addressed to him, and they both
seemed oblivious of my presence, save when they wished me to perform
some office for them. Then Frank, as she called him, had such an
insolent way of staring at me, and walking around with his hands stuck
contemptuously into his trousers’ pockets. And when we had completed
the house, and were cleaning up, he raked away the earth with his
boots, and made little ditches around the walls with his heels, and
stamped the walks level; in short, made such a display of his morocco
that I felt quite ashamed of my plain copper-tip shoes, and tried to
hide them as much as possible by standing in the grass. After awhile it
was proposed to get the doll’s dinner ready, and then I thought of my
errand. Without a moment’s consideration for Frank’s feeling, I broke
out with: “Oh! Lulie, I forgot; you must come to our house to-morrow;
we are going to have a dinner, and have got lots of good things cooked.
There won’t be any other girls there but you, and your pa and ma are
coming, too. Won’t you come?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, tying an apron on a very red-faced doll,
with china feet, wooden legs, and her hair rubbed off the back of her
head; “I don’t want to go much, ‘cause me and Frank are going to have
a doll wedding to-morrow. Frank, let me tell you”—— breaking off
suddenly, and putting the doll down with her face on the ground, and
her wooden limbs very much exposed, she took Frank aside to whisper
something to him. I inferred it was a proposal to invite me to their
dinner, as he replied loud enough for me to hear:
“No, let’s have it all by ourselves.”
Lulie seemed to assent, and as I had become rather incensed at the
whole proceedings, I turned off without another word, and went home.
Children suffer as keenly, if not as long, in their little loves and
jealousies as older people; and I was as unhappy during the remainder
of the day as was Octavia while Anthony was in Egypt. Many were the
castles I had built in the air, in all of which Lulie reigned as
queen. My favorite dream was to imagine her and myself wrecked, and
playing Robinson Crusoe on some desert island. I had loved to think how
we would sit together by the beach and watch the frightened billows
fleeing to the shore, or stroll through shadowy forests in search of
fruits; and how I would defend her from the wolves and bears, and how
tender and confiding she would be when she had no one but me to look
to. And then, at night, how cosy and snug we would be in our cave,
which would be always warmed and lighted by some means. And when the
savages came how we would shut the great stone door, and be safe and
secure. But I had now found in the sand, not the naked foot print
Robinson saw, but a boot track, which conjured up more fears and
suspicions than Defoe ever conceived; for it told of the presence of a
cannibal for my heart.
The next day wore away and the guests began to arrive. Having nothing
better to do, I stationed myself at the hall window to watch the
carriages as they came up to our door, and their contents came out.
The first that arrived were the Cheyleighs, numbering Mr. Edward
Cheyleigh and wife, a stylish old couple, who prided themselves
on their family and position in society, and the two Misses
Cheyleigh—ladies who had been in the market for some time, and as yet
were unspoken. They were great sticklers for the usages of society, and
dependent, in a great measure, on their social prestige and _en regle_
manners for the attention they received. They were well aware of the
fact, that while Mr. Cheyleigh had given balls and parties innumerable
for their benefit, he had not yet given a wedding party, and to
accomplish for him the privilege of giving one was and had been their
constant aim, albeit its fervor was a little abated by its continued
futility.
As they entered the hall, and found the hat and coat stands empty,
Miss Ella, the younger, turned to her father, and with much petulance
exclaimed:
“Now, pa, I hope you are satisfied; you would hurry us off, and now we
are the very first. I declare it is really too bad.”
“Yes, it is,” chimes in Miss Gertrude, the elder, “and looks as if we
were so dreadfully anxious to come.”
“Well, my daughters,” philosophises Mr. Cheyleigh, “somebody has to be
the first, and we are fully ten minutes behind the time specified.”
“Ten minutes!” exclaimed both young ladies, between the pronunciation
of the “ten” and the “minutes,” changing their faces from a frown to
a smile, as mother, hearing their voices, appeared in the hall and
welcomed them, taking the ladies off to the cloak room; while William,
our servant, who had been leaning against the stair while their
conversation was proceeding, recovered himself sufficiently to usher
Mr. Cheyleigh into the parlor. Many others arrive and are passed in,
until at length two young gentlemen approach, toss away their cigars,
and stroll, as it were, up the steps, taking a long time to reach the
door, and conversing in a low tone, which I could overhear.
“I wonder who is to be here to-day,” said the first, frowning as if in
pain, as he buttoned his glove with an effort; “dinners with old folks
are devilish bores.”
“I understand the two Misses Cheyleigh will be here, and that will be
some relief,” replied the other, pulling down his wristband, so as to
show the white.
“Yes, quite a relief to you. From your devotion down at Bentric’s
last evening I should judge you were really in love with that long,
languishing Gertrude.”
“Hush, Cassell, I vow you shan’t speak disrespectfully of her. I have a
right to admire her, if she is a little oldish.”
“Success to you, Berton! here goes for an hour’s boredom with that
little mincing, over vivacious Ella;” and he pulled the bell, muttering
as he did so, “I say confound these small and select gatherings; a
fellow is always put off with a fussy old maid, or a gassy old fogy,
who’ll talk you into an anatomy in five minutes.”
“Any way,” whispered the other, as William opened the door, “old Smith
keeps good wine and feeds well.”
They are followed in turn by others, till at last Dr. Mayland’s
carriage drives up, and, to my great surprise and delight, I recognise
the curly little head of Lulie through the window. I was too much
piqued by her conduct of the day before to run out and meet her, but
sprang at her from behind the door, as she entered, in a conciliatory
kind of way, and we both lost our stiffness in a hearty laugh. Without
waiting for more arrivals I hurried her off to the nursery.
“I thought you were not coming,” I began, as soon as we were fairly in,
“but that you and that Frank somebody were to have a doll’s party.”
“Yes, but you see Frank and I fell out,” she replied quickly, “and I
think he is ever so mean.”
“So do I,” I responded warmly, “don’t let’s have anything more to do
with him; we can always have more fun by ourselves, can’t we?”
“Yes, we can; you are not mad because I said what I did yesterday, are
you?”
“No, that I am not,” I replied, delighted at the turn things had taken;
“but come, Lulie, let me show you what father gave me on my birthday.”
Sitting down together on the rug before the bright glowing fire, we
took out of its box a little model of a house in separate pieces, and
commenced to put it together. I sat and gazed at her, as she bent over
the blocks, trying to make piece after piece fit; and she looked so
beautiful, with one side of her face all red from the fire, and her
clustering brown curls drooping so gracefully around it, that I could
resist the inclination no longer, but leaned forward and kissed the
glowing cheek.
“Oh stop!” she said, tossing her head without looking up; “you bother
me so I can’t build the house at all.”
This was so much milder than I expected I tried another.
“Stop, I tell you,” she exclaimed, feigning to strike me with one of
the blocks; “see, you’ve tumbled all the top of the house off.”
“I will stop,” I said, looking at her very earnestly, “if you will give
me a kiss of your own accord.”
“Here, then,” she said, raising her head; and throwing back her curls
she put up her rosy lips, and I kissed her. People say children know
nothing about love, but there was a thrill of pleasure and a smack of
romance in that kiss before the nursery fire, that none which have ever
since touched my lips have possessed.
We amused ourselves in various ways till the servant brought in our
dinner, spread the nursery table, and, as I gave Lulie my high chair,
piled up books in another for me, to bring me up to a comfortable level
with our meal, then left us to enjoy it. We chewed out praises, and
smacked out lavish encomiums on the skill of the cook, as we eagerly
applied ourselves to her dainties; and when Lulie had sipped the last
trembling particle of _blanc mange_, and added the _debris_ of the last
grape to the goodly pile on her fruit plate, we got down, instead of
rising, from our chairs, and went from the nursery to the dining room.
The ladies had withdrawn some time since, and the gentlemen had almost
finished their wine. The two young men, who had characterized dinners
with old folks as devilish bores, had excused themselves, and gone back
to the parlors.
Finding nothing to interest us in the dry, stale jokes or political
fanfarronade of the dining room party, we ran off to the parlors,
and took our station on each side of the door, to watch all within.
The ladies were grouped round the fires or examining the pictures,
while Mr. Cassell and Miss Ella, Mr. Berton and Miss Gertrude, were
promenading slowly the whole length of the rooms. We thought this was
a great sign of love, and watched them with great interest. As they
approached our end of the room we could hear very well, but when their
backs were turned their words were gradually lost; so that our ideas of
the tenor of their conversation were somewhat disconnected. Mr. Berton,
who seemed interested in what he was saying, and Miss Gertrude equally
so, approached first.
“Yes, indeed,” he was saying, as they came into earshot, “we had a
most charming time. The moonlight was as bright as day, and the Minnie
scarcely rippled the water. The music, too, was better than usual, and
we danced eight sets going down, besides the round dances. We missed
you a great deal; everybody was inquiring for Miss Gertrude.”
“Ella told me what a delightful excursion it was,” replied Miss G.,
trying to pout bewitchingly, as if still vexed at her own absence. “I
was so exceedingly unwell that ma would not hear to my going, and I had
a real hard cry over it. When do we have another?”
“I am afraid not before another moon. We are talking, however, of
getting up a picnic for the Sound next——.” They passed down the room,
and out of hearing, as Cassell and Miss Ella came up, she all smiles,
he all languor.
“You say they are from the western part of the State?” he inquired,
with a drawl, as if he only pursued the subject because he was too lazy
to find another.
“Yes,” replied Miss Ella, with nervous vivacity, “from Charlotte, I
think. They are quite an addition to our society, are they not?”
“Quite!” laconicised Cassell, as if he had done all for the subject
that could be required of him.
“And then,” she continued, “they are connected with the Cartoneaus of
South Carolina, who, you know, are some of the first people in the
State. Mr. Paning brought a letter of introduction to pa from Judge
Francis Cartoneau. He and ma called, of course, and were much pleased,
though Mrs. Paning, ma thought, was a little stiff.”
Lulie and I were immensely interested in this conversation, and eagerly
listened for its further development.
Mr. Cassell paused awhile, as if to debate whether his system could
stand a continuance of the conversation, then, with a resigned arch of
his eyebrows to himself, asked:
“Do they intend to reside here?”
“Oh yes, they have bought Mr. Huxley’s place, and are having it fitted
up in magnificent style. When they move in I understand they intend
giving a grand ball!”
Mr. Cassell paused again, then taking a flower from his lappel, bit it
savagely, and asked:
“Have they any daughters?” as if it was the last question she might
expect from him.
“No, they have only one child—a little boy—named Frank, after his
uncle, Judge Cartoneau.”
Cassell did not appear at all interested in the name of the little
boy, but I was intensely so, and leaned in the door to hear more, but,
unfortunately, they had passed down the room out of hearing, while
Miss Gertrude and her beau came again into audience. They were still on
the subject of the excursion, and Mr. Berton was verging towards the
sentimental, while Miss Gertrude was encouraging him with all the art
she could command.
“I’ll vow I didn’t, Miss Gerty; I sat apart almost the whole night,
thinking of you.”
“Why, Mr. Berton! Ella told me you were perfectly devoted to Miss
Withers.”
“Withers, indeed! she’s perfectly horrid; but did you think enough of
me to inquire what I did?”
“Of course, I——” Her remarks were broken off, as far as we were
concerned, by the entrance of the gentlemen from the dining room. We
tried to dodge, and get away, but two of them caught us, and holding
us by the ears, asked our names—which question seems to be, with
most people, a test of a child’s intelligence. To answer it was a
task I dreaded more than Hercules did the Augean stables. My name,
short as it was, seemed to stretch into a length equal to the King of
Siam’s whenever I had to pronounce it; and I have often blessed the
man who invented cards. There being no escape now, we drawled out,
respectively, “John Smith” and “Lulie Mayland,” and were released, one
of our captors remarking as we scampered off:
“Smith, you and Mayland ought to raise them up for each other. They
will make a fine match one of these days.”
I fully forgave him for asking my name, and earnestly wished he might
be a prophet.
Glad to get away, Lulie and I ran out into the back yard, and played
till ‘twas very dark, when one of the servants came to call us in.
We found all the guests gone but Dr. and Mrs. Mayland, who were just
entering their carriage. I bade Lulie a hasty good-bye, and turned
back into the house, feeling a joyous flutter about the heart, as if a
humming bird were enclosed in it and was struggling to escape. Mother
met me in the hall, and said:
“John, it is so late you need not get your lesson to-night, but, as you
are perhaps sleepy, you can go into the nursery, and I will come in and
hear you say your prayers.”
Though I was a good stout boy, mother could not get out of the old
habit of seeing me to bed, and hearing me repeat my prayers aloud.
I entered the nursery, but instead of undressing, sat down by the fire,
and began—
“Fancy unto fancy linking.”
Again I was on the desert island, but the boot track had disappeared,
and our snug grotto received the addition of a grate, a rug, and a
house model. The savages came, and smacked their bloody lips through
the bars of our cave, and yelled with eager desire to reach us, but I
cared not. I was happy as long as those curls were drooping over the
blocks, and I was stealing kisses from the rosy architect.
Mother came in, and broke my reverie. I got up, undressed, and kneeled
down by her side. Laying my cheek on her knee, I commenced “Our father”
with my tongue, while my mind was still in the grotto with Lulie. I had
not repeated half, when a ferocious savage tore loose a bar, and was
squeezing himself through the aperture, while I stood on the defensive,
with one of the Corinthian columns of our little house for a weapon,
ready to strike down the invaders. So vivid was the picture that even
my tongue forgot its office, and with the broken prayer upon my lips I
lay gazing into the glowing coals. Mother’s hands touched my head as
she said gently:
“My child, what are you thinking of? Remember, you are praying to the
great God, who will not hear you unless you ask in earnest. If you were
asking your father for something you wished very much would you not
think of what you were saying?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, meekly, at length recalled from my vision.
“And do you not want God to take care of father and mother, and
yourself, to-night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then ask him as you ought.” And with that soft hand upon my head all
earthly visions vanished, and I repeated the oft-said prayer, with all
of childhood’s earnestness, and its simple, trusting faith.
I rose, got in the bed, received mother’s good-night kiss, and, as I
closed my eyes, Queen Mab’s grey gnat coachman drove his atomic team
across my nose, and Lulie, models, savages, Cassell, Miss Gertrude, and
crestfallen Prank Paning, all danced before me, and danced me to sleep.