Accordin’ to promise Tamer Ann brung Jack to stay a few days with
me while she went on to her Aunt Nancy John’s. Her Aunt Nancy don’t
like children, bein’ nervous and highstericky, but she is a rich
woman and Tamer has expectations from her, and goes there quite a
good deal and makes of her. She is Tamer’s great aunt, and is one
of two widders of the same name, so to tell ’em apart we call ’em
Aunt Nancy John and Aunt Nancy Joe.
Jack wuz awful tickled to git to our house, and I wuz glad enough
to see him. And he played round jest as good as a child could all
the afternoon, and eat a good supper, and that night before he went
to bed he come and leaned his curly head on my shoulder, and talked
real confidential to me.
Tamer is a Piscopal, or, that is, what religion she’s got is of
that persuasion. I know Piscopals that are perfectly devoted
Christians and samplers for any one to foller, but with Tamer I
guess it don’t strike in very deep, though she duz go through the
motions in meetin’ wonderful for one of her age, and with all the
diseases she’s got on her, gittin’ up and kneelin’ down with the
best on ’em. And she’s real strict about follerin’ some of the
rules and wants her family to; she had told me some time ago about
the trouble she had with Jack keepin’ Lent, sez she:
“You know we ort to give up our own wills and do what is pleasin’
to the Lord in Lent, and I have the greatest trouble to make the
children see the necessity of it as I do, and I am so particular to
keep it,” sez she.
Thinkses I, Tamer Ann Allen, if you should try to do the Lord’s
will through one day of Lent you wouldn’t try to make your only
girl live a lie the rest of her life, and let your oldest boy go to
ruin down the path of dime novels and cigarettes. Why, every one of
the troubles she had pinted out to me wuz nothin’ bad in Jack at
all, only the sins of ignorance which we read are winked at. But
not a wink would Tamer give, not a wink. She had complained awful
about his irreverence in prayer time and his utter refusal to give
up pie and leave butter offen his bread durin’ Lent. “Why,” sez
she, “when I asked him what he would give up he said apples, he
guessed, he didn’t love ’em, and he said he would give up bathin’,
too, and soap, and havin’ his hair combed, the idee!”
“Did you explain it, Tamer Ann, what Lent wuz for, and why he
should make his little sacrifices?”
“No, it is enough for me to tell Jack what to do; he has no right
to inquire into my reasons.”
“But,” sez I, “didn’t you inquire into what you called his
irreverence at prayer time?”
“I inquired into it with a good switch, that’s what I did, for I
will not have irreverence and irreligion goin’ on in my house.”
Well, as I said, Jack come to me that night and laid his head
against my shoulder, and I told him he must be a good boy, and I
asked him why it wuz that he didn’t want to say his prayers. He had
been in real good sperits, but the minute I begun to talk about
that he kinder whimpered out, “I don’t want to everykneeshallbow,
and I told Ma that I didn’t, I don’t know what it is and don’t want
to talk about it, and I told Ma so, and then she said I’d got to,
and then I got mad and I told her I won’t everykneeshallbow, and
then she whipped me. And what is it, anyway?”
“Say it slower, Jack,” sez I.
“Every-knee-shall-bow,” sez he.
And then it come to me, “Every knee shall bow.” And I went on
and told him about the great kind Ruler who made him and all the
pleasant things that he had ever enjoyed, and how it is writ down
that every knee shall bow to Him.
“Well, I’ll do that,” sez Jack. “I will kneel to Him now, I didn’t
know what it meant, and Ma wuz too busy to tell me, and I got mad
and wouldn’t ask anybody else. And there is sunthin’ else that I
wanted to know awfully, and I wish you would tell me.” That poor
little creeter trusted me it seemed more than he did any other
person, and I felt greatly complimented by it, as much as if a
President or King had paid compliments to me.
“What is the Miz that Ma makes me pray about in church?”
“The Miz?” sez I.
“Yes, the sea and all that in the Miz. I didn’t want to pray about
that, for I thought it wuz sunthin’ big and kinder fuzzy. What is
it, anyway?”
And then I told him about the same great Ruler, who ruled over the
land and sea, and all that in them is. And he went to bed quite
happy and promised to say his prayers good, and I believe he did.
Poor little creeter!
Well, he stayed two days and had an awful good time, and Josiah
and I enjoyed it jest as much as he did, and the next day,
accordin’ to promise, I took Jack over to Tirzah Ann’s and Tamer
wuz goin’ to stop and visit her and Thomas J. on her way back
from Aunt Nancy John’s. I made a good call at Tirzah’s and see a
new sass dish she had got and admired it, and a shirt waist, and
then I left Jack happy enough to play with Delight, and called at
Maggie’s, and Miss Greene Smythe wuz there, she had come to the
office to see Thomas Jefferson and wuz waitin’ for him to come
home, he wuz expected every minute from Loontown. I inquired in
a polite way after her children, and she said that Angenora wuz
feelin’ rather nervous to-day, she wuz out to a child’s party the
night before and didn’t git home till two o’clock.
“That child,” sez I, “out till two o’clock!”
“Yes,” she said, “Jimmy De Graffe, a boy from the city, gave the
party, he lives near us at home and wuz devoted to Angenora; he
sent her a valentine last year which wuz a perfect love letter,
and one thing that makes Angenora feel so bad to-day, there wuz a
little girl there from the city who had on a much prettier dress
that hers--Angenora’s wuz white silk with only five ruffles on it,
and the little girl’s wuz pink silk with seven ruffles, and Jimmy
paid her much more attention than he did Angenora. It almost broke
her heart, she is just about sick to-day.”
Sez I to myself, fashion, love-disappointments, jealousies,
heartburnings, despair, emotions that child hadn’t ort to know
the names on for years and years. Emotions big enough and sad
enough to swamp lives well seasoned by years and experience,
all being suffered by that baby, who ortn’t to have an anxiety
above peanuts and the multiplication table, blind man’s buff and
puss-in-the-corner, for years and years, the idee on’t! Why,
what heart will that child bring to her lessons, her Elementary
Arithmetic all mixed up with problems about flirtin’ and social
supremacy, her Gography full of countries that can’t be bounded,
realms of jealousy, hatred and strife, her plain readin’ and
spellin’ full of readin’ and spellin’ that grown folks can’t read
or spell straight to save their lives. What will remain to that
child when she gits to be a young woman? All the emotions of youth
outgrown and wasted, she will be old at fourteen, a worn-out old
young flirt when she enters her teens. The pleasant care-free land
of childhood trompled down and destroyed, the lovely playgrounds of
youth and happiness turned into campin’ ground for worldly discord
and strife, it makes me feel bad to think on’t.
But Miss Greene Smythe went on, “Jimmy De Graffe seemed to think so
much of Angenora, she thought it wuz real mean for him to pay all
his devoirs to another girl.”
“Devoirs!” sez I, “the idee of them children payin’ devoirs, but
it is well named, for these carry-ins on, fashionable midnight
parties, child flirtations, etc., do jest devour all that is sweet
and lovely in children, all their unconscious grace and artless
innocence, and dear little ignorant wise ways, why,” sez I,
“Angenora ort to look on boys only as comrades and playfellows for
years and years to come, not lookin’ on ’em different from girls
only that they are stronger and can run faster and climb trees
better.”
Well, I went away pretty soon, for my pardner come from the post
office and thought we had better be goin’, but I kep thinkin’ all
the way home on that triumphant child flirt, and Angenora sad and
melancholy, and the idee of bo’s and flirtin’ that wuz planted in
the minds and hearts of babies, destroyin’ the childish mirth
and good comradeship that should exist in happy freedom between
children of both sects. Pictures of pretty playful hours between
Jack and Delight come to my mind some as you see pictures in a
magic lantern, and one of the very prettiest ones come to me as I
washed and wiped my dishes that night, Josiah doin’ his barn chores
at the same time.
It took place the February before, February the fourteenth, the
day when Angenora wuz writin’ and receivin’ lover-like epistles
from young old men of nine or ten years of age, I thought with
satisfaction and happiness of this pretty seen that had took place
in our own home. Jack and Delight had been stayin’ a week with me,
and I had noticed for a day or two before that the children had had
a good deal of mysterious talkin’ between ’em, and there seemed to
be a secret they wuz tryin’ to keep from me; I see ’em countin’
their pennies, and once I hearn Jack say, “All together we’ve got
leven cents.”
And then Delight sez, “We can get a splendid one for that.” But the
minute they ketched sight of me they stopped talkin’ in a dretful
elaborate way, put their fingers to their lips, and shook their
heads, and nodded towards me and Josiah, and I see it wuz sunthin’
connected with us, and I made a point at once of not seein’ or
hearin’ ’em at all. And that is one of the greatest secrets of
life and success, the nack of not hearin’ things. It is almost as
necessary in order to git along smooth and pleasant to not hear
things as it is to hear ’em.
Lots of times if you hear and see things, sass, for instance, from
help, I mean, little bits of sass that will spill out of the big
dish of daily worry sometimes, why, if you see that sass you have
got to pay attention to it, and wipe it up with admonition and
reproof, or ruther make them that dropped it there clean it up
with apology and atonement, which will take time and strength and
nerves, but if you don’t see it, why it will evaporate, and the
dish will right itself up of itself, in eight cases out of ten it
will.
And children, bless their dear souls! how many times it is a
positive boon to not see their little acts or hear their little
words. If you see the small feet wanderin’ for a minute from the
highway in search of some butterfly, or, ruther, why you’ve got
to pull ’em back agin by main strengh. But if you don’t see ’em
why they will come back of their own little accords, most always,
and save their temper and yours. And so with their outbursts of
discontent and annoyance, if you hear it you have got to rebuke and
chasten, but if you don’t hear it, why, good land! it is all over
in a minute.
And the best way to teach, anyway, is object teachin’. Make
yourself the object, try to do right yourself with fear and
tremblin’, and make a sampler of yourself for the children to work
their poor little pieces of life’s canvas by. That is the best way
of teachin’ on earth and the surest (sometimes I do eppisode even
in my reveries and have to resoom forwards agin).
Well, this wuz the day but one before Valentine’s day, and the
children beset Josiah to take ’em to Jonesville, and Josiah
promised he would.
But it turned out to be a turrible stormy day, blowin’, snowin’ too
bad for anybody to be out, and Josiah didn’t go. The children wuz
fearful disappinted, their little faces wuz sad and overcasted, and
I got a extra good dinner, and when I fried cakes I fried every
animal I ever hearn on, unless it wuz a Bengal tiger, for ’em, and
it seems some as if I fried him, but I won’t be certain. But even
this immense menagerie didn’t seem to fill ’em with the joy it ort,
but towards night they begun to brighten up some. I see their two
curly heads clost together, the light and the dark, talkin’ over
some project big to them, and then they’d look at Josiah and me
dretful meanin’ and nod their heads to each other in a knowin’ way,
their little faces all lighted up agin.
And they seemed to be in full and frequent communication with our
hired man, and then the two little heads, the dark lustrous one
with threads of gold runnin’ through the dark curls, and the light
flaxen one with threads of mornin’ sunshine wove into the long
flaxen waves, these heads would nestle clost together agin as if in
deep thought and endeavor.
Well, the mornin’ of Saint Valentine’s day wuz bright and sunshiny,
the long rays of gold light crept into our room through the white
curtain edged with lace of my own knittin’, and through them same
curtains I could see the great masses of warm light in the east
like a pink and gold carpet spread out for the sun to walk up into
the day on as he come up to light the world.
I wuz jest layin’ and thinkin’ how beautiful and glorious it all
wuz, and also with one corner of my mind wonderin’ when Josiah
laid out to git up, and whether he had got enough kindlin’ wood
the night before, when I heard two little taps at the bedroom door
and Josiah waked up. And before we could even ask who wuz there,
in come Jack and little Delight in their long white nightdresses.
Jack slept upstairs in the room with the hired man, and Delight
slept in a little room offen ours. But there them two beautiful
little creeters stood right in the rays of mornin’ light, hand in
hand, with faces as grave and earnest as if the hull weight of
the President’s cares lay on their curly heads. And as we looked
up and see ’em, they advanced hand in hand and made two bows, the
most stupendious and wonderful bows I ever see or hearn on, why
their little noses most grazed the floor, they wuz that deep and
impressive, and then they repeated both on ’em in their sweet,
fresh little voices:
“The rose is red, the vilets blue,
The pink is pretty, and so are you.
My pen is poor, my ink is pale,
My love for you shall never fail.”
And then they made agin them solemn deep bows and walked out of the
room still holdin’ hands. And Josiah and I kinder smiled a little
after they went out, not before them, no, not for a silver dollar
would I laughed before them, and I sez, “This is our valentine,
Josiah.”
“Yes,” sez he, “and a prettier one never went through a post
office.”
“That’s so,” sez I, “unless it wuz the one you sent me with the
roses and forget-me-nots on it the year before we wuz married.” And
all the time Josiah wuz buildin’ the fire, and while I wuz gittin’
breakfast I thought of how the blossoms of life are scattered down
through all the seasons of the year and of life. The roses that
come with that valentine of Josiah’s had faded, the frosts of
thirty years had stole the pretty pink tinge offen ’em, and the
years had gone by, long years, long years, and youth wuz past.
But, good land! could anything be so sweet and beautiful as the
valentine that had come to us on this February morning, when the
gray hairs lay thick on my own head, and my poor Josiah’s head
wuz bare beneath the touch of Time’s hand, which had been strokin’
him down for so long a time. I told the children at the breakfast
table, as they sot in their little high chairs opposite to Josiah
and me, and my face wuz jest as earnest and good as I could make it:
“You couldn’t have pleased us so well with any other valentine in
the world, there couldn’t be one bought anywhere that we should
have liked half so well--could there, Josiah?”
“No,” sez he, “not one; there hain’t a valentine in the hull
country that could compare with the one we got this mornin’.”
And then the children bust right out laughin’, they wuz so tickled
to think we liked it, and they laughed partly, I think, because
I had gin each on ’em a little glass dish of honey as a treat on
account of the valentine. Bless their sweet hearts! could any other
valentine be tinged with the light of love that gilt ourn? Could
any picture match the lustrous tenderness of the soft gray eyes,
and soft mornin’ glory blue ones? Could any gold-edged paper equal
the glint of the golden hair, could any page equal the pink tinge
of the rosy cheeks, and the white forwards and necks, and little
pink toes stickin’ out under their nightgowns as our dear little
valentines come to us in the fresh morning light, warmin’ up the
coldness of a February morning?
Well, a few days after this Josiah told me he had seen Mrs. Greene
Smythe to Thomas Jefferson’s office, and she wanted to see me on a
little bizness, and wanted me to come in when I wuz up that way, as
she understood I wuz quite often, she wanted to consult me about a
Charity Bazar. Well, the word charity is always a-takin’ one with
me, for in that incomparable chapter I love so well it describes
all the graces at full length, and then sez, “The greatest of these
is Charity.”