master, had to dress and go down stairs to give the singers the treat
they expected. Betty got up and dressed herself at the first sound, and,
tapping at George's door, called softly, "Merry Christmas, George!"
Nobody could sleep much after that, and soon after sunrise everybody was
up, and "Merry Christmas" resounded through the whole house. The negroes
were most vociferous, as this was their favorite holiday, and no work,
except the feeding of the stock and the cutting of wood, was to be done
for several days--that is, as long as the backlog on the Christmas fire
remained unconsumed. The putting of this log on the fire was an annual
ceremony, that George thought most amusing. The English officers thought
so too, and watched it with the greatest interest. Before breakfast was
served, when all the guests were assembled in the hall, Uncle Manuel,
the butler, who was very tall and very black, and who wore, on great
occasions, a pair of scarlet satin knee-breeches that had once belonged
to Laurence Washington, appeared, and announced, with a condescending
smile, that "de boys" had come with the backlog.
Amid much grinning and shoving and jostling and chuckling four stalwart
negro men walked in the house carrying a huge log, which was placed at
the back of the great fireplace, upon the tall iron fire-dogs. It was of
unseasoned black gum, a wood hard to burn at all times, and this
particular log had been well soaked in a neighboring swamp. It was the
privilege of the negroes to select the backlog, and although the masters
and mistresses knew perfectly well that everything was done to make it
as noncombustible as possible, the plantation joke was to pretend that
it was as dry as a bone and would burn like tinder.
"We fotch you a mighty fine backlorg dis time, mistis," grinned the head
man. "Hit gwi' bu'n same like light-wood." At which Mrs. Washington
looked grave, as she was expected to look, while a general guffaw went
around among the negroes.
"I spect we ain' gwi' to have no holiday 'tall ef we has to go ter wuk
as soon as dis heah lorg b'un up," chuckled another.
"'Tain' gwi' lars' mo'en fer Christmas day!" chorussed the others
standing near by.
"I think I saw a black-gum log soaking in the swamp a few days ago,"
said Laurence, smiling at the grinning faces before him: but there was a
chorus immediately:
"Naw, suh; dis lorg ain' never had a drap o' water on it, an' we-all's
been dryin' it fer a whole mont'." The log was then steaming like a
tea-kettle, and the negroes yah-yahed with delight at the ready
acceptance of their _ruse_.
"Very well, then," cried Laurence Washington; "you can all have holiday
until this log is burned out, and if I am not mistaken it will last the
week through!"
Immediately after breakfast horses were brought out, and the great
coach, and several gigs and chaises, to take a party to old Pohick
Church. There was to be a service, however, on the _Bellona_, and the
"church flag" was flying from her peak. Admiral Vernon invited George to
go with him on board the ship. They went to the landing, where the
captain's gig awaited them. On board the _Bellona_ everything was as
clean as hands could make it, the ship was dressed, and the men, being
excused from work that day, were in their Sunday clothes and prepared
for their holiday.
The service, performed by the chaplain, was held upon the gun-deck. Four
hundred sailors, in spotless clothing, and each with a sprig of
mistletoe in his glazed hat, were assembled, seated on capstan-bars,
which made improvised benches. In front of them their officers were
assembled, the captain at their head, while in front of the officers
were the Admiral and his guests. Never had George seen a more beautiful
and reverent service. The sailors were reminded of their homes in green
England, far away, and every heart was softened by the recollection. The
officers needed no reminder of their families and friends at home, and
all felt drawn together in sympathy at their common separation from
those dearest to them.
After the service the Admiral took George over the ship, showing him all
the beauty and strength of her. The boy gazed with wonder and delight at
her trim yards, her immaculate decks, and at the rows of menacing guns
in her batteries. Until then he had strongly inclined to the army, but
in the first flush of his new enthusiasm he longed to be a naval
officer. There were several midshipmen of his own age on board, to whom
the Admiral introduced him, and George yearned, boy fashion, to wear a
smart uniform like theirs, and to carry a midshipman's dirk. He said
little; his enthusiasms were all of that silent kind which burn the more
furiously because their blaze is concealed. But the moment he reached
the house, after leaving the ship, he went straight to his brother
Laurence's study, and marched in with this bold announcement,
"Brother Laurence, I want to serve in the King's navy."
Laurence looked up smiling at George's earnest face, in which a fixed
purpose was plainly seen.
"I should have preferred the army for you," responded Laurence. "But if
a youngster _will_ serve in the King's navy, in the King's navy he must
serve."
"And will you get me my warrant?" eagerly asked George.
"The fact is," cautioned Laurence, "I have a midshipman's warrant
offered me for you at this very time. Admiral Vernon has the privilege
of nominating a midshipman on the _Bellona_, and some days ago, in
speaking of your arrival, he asked me, as my old friend, if it would be
agreeable to my family to appoint you in his Majesty's naval service. I
told him I had not yet consulted with Madam Washington, but I had no
doubt whatever that it would be highly agreeable to her, and the Admiral
assured me that it would be at my service at any time."
George stood perfectly breathless with surprise. His first thought was
that surely he was the most fortunate boy in the world. At that moment
there was a knock at the door and Admiral Vernon entered.
"Ah, Admiral!" cried Laurence, "you see before you a very happy lad. He
is overjoyed at the notion of entering the naval service."
"It would be a thousand pities to lose so fine a fellow from the King's
navy," said the Admiral, smiling. George wished to thank him, but when
he tried to speak he felt a choking sensation, albeit he was so happy.
It was so exactly what he wanted at that very time; and how few there
are who get what they want before the wish for it has departed!
[Illustration: SHE WAS THE STATELIEST BEAUTY OF A SHIP HE HAD EVER
SEEN.]
All the rest of that day George felt as if he were walking on air. He
made plans for his whole life ahead, and already saw himself an admiral.
He thought it would not be right to speak of this beautiful plan for him
to any one until his mother knew it, and so he would give no hint to
Betty, or even tell it, as he longed to do, to Billy. But when in his
room in the afternoon, before the Christmas dinner, Rattler jumped upon
him and licked his hands, George could not forbear whispering to him,
"Good dog, your master will soon be a midshipman!" He had gone to his
room to carry out his intention of reading every day something out of a
useful book; but his heart was too full to read, and his book lay
unopened while he sat before the fire in a happy dream, slowly passing
Rattler's silky ears through his hand. From his chair he could see
through his window the handsome frigate lying motionless in the stream.
Some of the men were dancing on the fok'sle to the sound of a fiddle and
tambour played by two of the crew. In George's eyes, infatuated as he
was with the navy, she was the stateliest beauty of a ship he had ever
seen, and he thought every man on her must be altogether happy.
At five o'clock there was a grand Christmas dinner. The ladies wore
their gayest gowns, the officers were in full uniform, and the other
gentlemen present were in all the splendor of velvet coats and breeches
and ruffled shirts. There was much laughter and many toasts, and at the
end of the dinner Uncle Manuel, gorgeous in his scarlet silk breeches,
entered, bearing aloft, on a huge platter, a plum-pudding blazing with
blue flumes, and with sprigs of mistletoe stuck in it. Afterwards, in
the hall, came off the ceremony of placing the branch of mistletoe on
the lantern that hung from the ceiling. Then there was great jollity and
a merry scramble, for, according to the hearty custom of the time, any
lady caught under the mistletoe could be kissed by any gentleman who
caught her. George and William Fairfax secretly longed to act the
mannish part and join in the sport, but both felt quite overcome with
bashfulness at the idea, and only watched the gay doings from afar. Not
so Betty, who quite assumed the young lady, and who not only treated
William Fairfax as if he had been an infant, but gave herself lofty airs
towards George, whom she had heretofore regarded with the greatest
respect. Then, soon after dark, the coaches of the neighboring gentry
drove up with the guests. In the hall the negro fiddlers were in great
force, and sawed the air from eight o'clock in the evening until
daylight next morning. Besides the minuet and rigadoon there were jigs
and reels, and at last everybody, young and old, danced Sir Roger de
Coverley, while the candles sputtered in their sockets and the chickens
crowed outside. George danced all night with the greatest enjoyment, not
finding any difficulty in obtaining partners, all of the ladies being
willing to dance with so handsome a stripling. Among the guests who came
from a distance was a remarkably pretty young girl of about George's
age, Miss Martha Dandridge. With her George danced Sir Roger de
Coverley, going down the middle swinging partners, and making the grand
march to the music of the crashing fiddles and dancing feet. When at
last it was over, and in the gray dawn the coaches and chaises rattled
off, and the ball was over, George thought it was the finest ball he had
ever seen in his life.
For a week gayety and jollity prevailed at Mount Vernon. There were
fox-hunts, when the huntsmen assembled by daybreak, and the winding of
the horns, and the hounds with tongues tuned like bells, echoed across
the river and among the hills; and after a day's hard riding there would
be a jolly dinner and dancing afterwards. Then there was a great party
aboard of the _Bellona_, where the decorations were all of flags and
warlike emblems. George's enthusiasm for the navy did not decrease in
the least, but rather gained by being in company with so many officers,
and feeling obliged to keep his delightful secret of a promised
commission to himself. He became friends with the midshipmen, and in his
heart he enjoyed more his visits to the cockpit, with all its
discomforts, than the luxury of the Admiral's cabin and the comfort of
the ward-room. He was never weary of listening to the officers telling
of their adventures; and his expressive young face, with the blood
coming and going like a girl's, showed his overpowering interest in what
he heard. No real doubt of his mother's consent entered his mind; and if
the thought occasionally crossed him that her consent must be asked and
might not be given, he dismissed it, as all young and ardent natures
dismiss unpleasant possibilities.
Among the quieter pleasures which he had at this time was that of making
friends with little Mildred, the two-year-old daughter to which his
brother and sister were so devoted. They had lost three other children;
and in a time of the utmost sadness after their deaths, when Laurence
Washington realized his own delicate constitution, and the chances that
none of his children might live, he had made his will, giving Mount
Vernon and all he had, if he should leave no children, to George. But
this little one bade fair to grow up into a healthy and happy child.
Betty, who was by nature a little mother, was never more at home than
when she had charge of the child, and could take as good care of her as
any grown person. George, on the contrary, although his heart went out
to the little girl, regarded her as a piece of china that might be
broken by touching her. But Mildred took a violent fancy to him, and was
never so happy as when carried about in his strong young arms, or
sitting on his knee while he made rabbits out of his handkerchief and
pictures out of the shadows on the wall, and was ready to do anything
and to give her anything that would amuse her. He had never been thrown
with a child of that age before, and regarded every instance of her baby
cleverness as the most extraordinary thing in the world, to the
amusement of his brother and sister.
The year before George had found William Fairfax a delightful boyish
companion, but this year, with his new experiences, and the company of
the young officers on the _Bellona_, George unconsciously neglected him.
But William, who had a sweet and forgiving nature, showed no ill-humor
over it, and said to himself: "Never mind; when the ship goes away, and
all the visitors, George will again find me good company."
And such was the case. On the morning that the _Bellona_ loosed her
topsail, as a sign that she was about to trip her anchor, George felt
utterly forlorn. He wondered how he should get through the time until he
could go to Ferry Farm, and, securing his mother's consent, join the
ship before she sailed from the Chesapeake. So eager was he that
Laurence, in the goodness of his heart, had ordered, at his own expense,
George's uniforms to be made in Alexandria, and he was given his
side-arms from the stores on board the _Bellona_. George in fancy
already saw himself Midshipman Washington. Admiral Vernon, on parting,
had said some kind words to him which sank deep in his heart. "I shall
look forward with pleasure to your joining, Mr. Washington," he said.
"It is just such youngsters as you that we want in the navy."
On a bleak January day the _Bellona_ went out. George watched from the
shore as long as he could see her, and sighed as he turned back to the
house. On his way back he was joined by William Fairfax.
"George," said William, diffidently, "I am afraid we are not as good
friends as we were last year."
"Why?" asked George, in surprise. He had almost forgotten William's
existence in the last few busy and exciting days, and he had felt so
immeasurably older than he that companionship seemed out of the
question.
"Because you do not seem to care for me any longer."
George stopped, and his heart and his conscience smote him. William was
his sister's cousin and his brother's guest, and he had been neglected
by both George and Betty; for Betty had grown about ten years, in her
own estimation, since dancing with officers and being allowed to come to
the first table. George thought this rather ridiculous of Betty; but was
it not equally ridiculous of him to lord it over William, as if there
were twenty years between them?
"I see how it is, William," said George, after a pause. "I dare say I
have often made a fool of myself in this last week, talking to men as if
I were their equal, and to boys of my own age as if I were a man. But,
although you may laugh at me, I do feel a great deal older in the last
two months--I suppose because I have been with men like Lord Fairfax and
Lance, and then Admiral Vernon and his officers. But if you will be
friends again with me I will promise not to treat you as I have done,
and I acknowledge it was not very gentlemanly of me."
The house seemed strangely quiet after all the company had left, and
there were no more routs and balls and romping and hunting. Snow had
fallen, and George and Betty were waiting for good weather before
attempting the journey back to Ferry Farm. George spoke to Betty about
William, acknowledging that he had been as much to blame as she; and
Betty, being of a generous nature, felt ashamed of herself, with the
result that William enjoyed the latter part of the time much more than
the first. But he was destined to have one more clash with George before
their friendship became so firmly cemented that it lasted during the
whole of their lives.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
BOBBY'S TOOL-CHEST.
They gave him a chest full of wonderful tools when he got to be six
years old,
And he made up his mind to go forth in the world and become a carpenter
bold.
"I've gimlets and saws, and hammers and nails, I've jack-planes and
awls," said he;
"I've rulers and screws. How can I refuse a carpenter-man for to be?
"The first thing to learn is to hammer a nail." And he got out his
hammer and tacks,
And he hammered, and hammered, and hammered away till he'd used up a
half-dozen packs.
He nailed up the doors, and he nailed down the floors, and he nailed
'em again and again,
And he made no mistake till he hammered a tack through the nursery
window-pane.
Then he took up his saw, and he tried its teeth. "I must now learn to
saw," he said;
And he sawed in two some bureau drawers, and he sawed off the legs of
his bed.
And he sawed on the lock of the nursery door till the teeth of the tool
grew rough,
And then he sat down and remarked to himself, "Well, I guess I have
sawn enough.
"I will now try the awl and the gimlet too, and learn what different
kinds
Of holes they make--for they're not alike"--and he bored on the outside
blinds.
He bored six holes in the shutter slats, and then made a change again,
And tried his luck on the bureau top with the beautiful two-inch plane.
And then, poor boy! some one came in, and oh, what a fuss was raised!
They spanked that boy for trying to learn when he thought he'd be
surely praised;
And his father was mad and his mother was mad, and even his sister
cried,
Because he'd taken her desk apart to see what there was inside;
And the baby, too, was as wrathy as they, because for a little while
He'd used the ruler to find how wide was the dear little fellow's
smile.
And that's why Bob--the poor little chap!--has changed every future
plan,
And is going to be a policeman bold instead of a carpenter-man.
CARLYLE SMITH.
[Illustration: THE RELIEF OF RIVERDALE.]
The C. and V. Railroad half encircles Riverdale on the south and west
sides. For the most part it runs along a narrow shelf on the
mountain-side many feet above the village, but toward the southwest is
the valley of the little Jewell River, and this is crossed by a long,
narrow embankment and a high bridge, where the track curves sharply
northward.
A few years ago an important part of the traffic over this line
consisted of long trains from the far West loaded entirely with hogs.
"Earle's excursions," the boys called them, in allusion to the famous
pork-packer to whom they were consigned. One afternoon--it was in
midsummer--a train of thirty-eight cars and a caboose started from the
summit, five miles above Riverdale. The grade is very steep, and the
train soon attained a terrific speed as it thundered down the mountain.
No one can tell the cause of the accident, but just as the train struck
the embankment at Riverdale it doubled up in the middle like a startled
snake, and five cars were forced out of the train and went down the
embankment, carrying rails, sleepers, and a foot or two of the road-bed.
Fortunately none of the trainmen was on these cars, so no one was
injured. But as the cars went crashing down they broke in pieces like
kindling-wood. Many hogs were killed and injured, but it is certain that
about four hundred large, able-bodied, hungry, half-crazy hogs were let
loose upon the outskirts of the lovely village of Riverdale.
[Illustration]
Without a moment's hesitation the invaders began their work of
destruction. Near the foot of the embankment was the cozy parsonage, and
the Rev. Mark Sanders was at work in his garden when the accident
occurred. Startled by the crash, he stood staring at the splintering
cars until one of them brought up almost against his garden fence, and a
dozen screeching hogs were trying to squeeze through the gate together.
Then he struck out valiantly with his sharp hoe, and thought he drove
all back, and locked the gate. But when he turned about, three hungry
hogs were feasting on his early potatoes, and they led him such a chase
that he heartily wished that every hog in the world had been in that
herd which in ancient times ran violently down a steep place into the
sea and were choked.
Meanwhile the main body of the army moved toward the centre of the
village, sending out foraging excursions to every garden and lawn,
unmindful of shrill threats or fluttering aprons. On the bank of the
Jewell River stood a little photograph saloon, and there Miss Sally
Graham, for twenty years the village dressmaker, was having her picture
taken. It was a critical moment. The photographer's head was underneath
the green cloth behind the camera.
"Please turn your head just a trifle toward the left, and look a little
more cheerful, Miss Graham," said the artist.
Miss Sally turned her head so that she looked toward the open door. She
was just saying "besom" for the last time when two large hogs, one of
them as black as Erebus, scrambled into the room and came directly
toward her.
"Oh, horrors!" shrieked Miss Sally, jumping up and whirling wildly about
in search of a way of escape. She rushed into the dark room and slammed
the door, overturning a bottle of some malodorous compound. There she
stood amid the horrible smells till, after much squealing, shouting, and
crashing of glass, the artist bade her come forth again.
By this time the hogs began to arrive at the centre of the village.
Those who saw them coming were first amused, and then amazed, and then
alarmed. Several of them climbed up four steps to the piazza of
Boynton's fruit-store, and began to eat a bunch of bananas and other
fruit exposed for sale. Oscar Boynton's wrath was great, his arm was
mighty, and his weapon was an iron poker; but all these produced no
effect whatever until he hooked the end of the poker into the nostrils
of the hogs, and so persuaded them to turn aside.
The situation was in truth growing serious. The hogs began to collect in
large numbers on Main Street. They drove the people into the houses,
especially where the men were not at home. They spread across Depot
Street until they came to Prospect Street. This was known as "Ladies'
Row," because so many spinsters and widows lived there. It was the
street of flower gardens, and all summer long it was a glorious rivalry
of violets, pansies, daisies, roses, asters, and every sweet and
beautiful blossom. Into this paradise the hogs entered, and began to
root up and destroy.
Toward the lower part of Main Street stood the grocery-store of Mr.
Heman Hemenway, Chairman of the Board of Village Trustees. Trade being
very dull, Mr. Hemenway sat dozing behind the counter dreaming of better
times.
Suddenly quick footsteps tapped along the knotty floor. Mr. Hemenway
sprang up and put on the expectant smile with which he greeted every
customer.
[Illustration]
It was Miss Placentia Hannum, of Ladies' Row, who stood before him. Her
face was flushed, her dark eyes blazed with indignation, and her voice
was pitched on a very high note as she exclaimed, "Mr. Hemenway! aren't
you going to do _anything_?"
"Do--do--anything? What--?" stammered the chairman of the trustees.
"Don't you know?" cried Miss Placentia, with an eloquent gesture of
disdain. "A whole train of hogs has run off the embankment, and they are
just pouring into the village, thousands and thousands of them, and now
they are on our street tearing up my beautiful flowers."
Mr. Hemenway was a man who intended to do his duty, and he went out to
the street at once. He was met by a deputation of hogs of such numbers
that he believed that Miss Hannum's statement was literally true. He
also began to feel that here was a condition of things not provided for
in his _Manual for Village Officers_. He saw the hogs swarming down the
street. He saw the people retreating into their houses after disastrous
conflict with the enemy. Yet he kept bravely on up the street as far as
the hay-scales, and there he met his fate.
Two hogs saw Mr. Hemenway approaching, and they immediately gave him
their entire attention. They were the humorists of the herd, and they
played with Mr. Hemenway. When he went toward the right, they gently
swayed in the same direction. He went toward the left, and they imitated
him, smiling very widely. He stopped, and the hogs stood patiently
before him.
"Whey!" cried Mr. Hemenway, waving his hand.
[Illustration]