Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best kind.Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won’t stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn’t quite so bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won’t be coaxed nor turned, they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of heads besides our heads.
First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads of sermons,—sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,—when a farmer reckons up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, Drumheads,—drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or tails,—when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,—when you let off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head—like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, Cabbageheads,—dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. Eleventh, At Loggerheads,—when you don’t agree. Twelfth, Heads of chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,—when you want to stop a horse, or a boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. Sixteenth, The Masthead,—where they send sailors to punish them. Seventeenth, get up to the head,—when you spell the word right. Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,—where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by the head,—when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that’s the end of a stick of timber that a ship’s anchorhangs by. Twenty-second, A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,—but first be sure you are right.
It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the morning, or there’s a rainbow, ’t will be rainy weather. Fish bite best in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning.
Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been written during William Henry’s second school year.
My Dear Grandmother,—
I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the word was—no, I mustn’t tell you, because it has to be guessed by actions, and when you get the paper that I’m going to send you, soon as I buy a two-cent stamp, then you’ll see it all printed out in that paper. The teacher the fellers callWedding Cake, because he’s such a good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and what things to put on, and everything. You’ll see it printed there, but you must please to send it back, for I promised to return.
There weren’t females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we all liked to ha’ died a laughing, getting ready, but when we were—there, I ’most told!
O if you could ha’ seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed round that cap—just as sober—much as we could do to keep in! I was a clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, like a clerk, and I did.
Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn’t strut, but he struts other times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh.
Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they’re grown up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth.
I wish you all and Aunt Phebe’s folks had been there. We had a treat, and O, if ’t wasn’t a treat, why, I’llagree to treat myself. Three kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped cakes and candy, andsucha great floating island in a platter!—Dorry said ’t was a floating continent!—and had red jelly round the platter’s edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he isn’t a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more too, I say.
And so I can’t tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly can,
Your affectionate grandson,William Henry.
Please lend it to Aunt Phebe’s folks.
Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter and take their seats. Placard stuck up, “Beware of Pickpockets,” in capitals.
First.Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be going on while the other passengers are entering.
Second.Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after putting ticket in his hat-band.
Third.Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella,and bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty.
Fourth.A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth and spectacles.
Fifth.Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers.
Sixth.Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his seat, using his eyeglass frequently.
Seventh.Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to please it, dancing them up and down before its face.
Eighth.Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits.
Ninth.Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) “All aboard!”
Tenth.In a hurry, Lady that’s been a-shopping, leading or pulling along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various other things). Doll’s heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, imitating Dandy’s polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges herbonnet-strings, takes off the child’s hat, smooths its hair, &c.
Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters.
Enter Conductor with an immensebadgeon his hat, or coat. Calls out “Have your tickets ready!” Then passes along the aisle, and calls out again, “Tickets!” The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. Conductor, afternippingthe tickets, passes out.
Enter boy with papers, “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” (Business man buys one.) “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” (Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, “Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!” (Noise heard of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! Five cents a stick!” (Lady buys one for baby.) “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!” (Yankee buys one, offers half to fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out.
Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, others let them lie. (Dandy buysone.) Boy collects them and passes out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop something in it. Exit boy.
Enter Conductor. “Tickets!” Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall on a smash-up.)
Ladyin morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. EnterMaggiewith tray.
Maggie.Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. ’T will cheer ye up like!
Lady (looking up).No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he’s lost!
Maggie.And did ye slape at arl, mum?
Lady.Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, cannot eat.
ExitMaggiewith breakfast things. EnterMikewith newspapers.
Mike.Mornin’ paper, mum.
Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns).Let me see if he is found. O, here! “Found!A diamond pin on—” Pshaw, diamond pin! Here it is. “Dog found! Black and tan—” Faugh, black and tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where’s the notice of our darling’s being lost?
Mike.Shure, an’ it’s to the side o’ the house I put it, mum, arl writ in illegant sizey litters, mum.
Lady (in alarm).And didn’t you go to the printers at all?
Mike.Shure an’ be n’t it better out in the brard daylight, mum, laning aginst th’ ’ouse convanient like, an’ aisy to see, mum?
Lady.O Mike, you’ve undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I say.
ExitMike.
Lady (solus).It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?
EnterMike, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large letters.
☞ Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!
Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger.
Mike.An’ it’s meeself larned the fine writin’, mum, in th’ ould counthry.
Lady (excited).Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen and paper!
ExitMike, muttering. Knock heard at door.
Lady.Come!
EnterMarket-Man,in blue frock.
Market-man.Good day, ma’am. Heard you’d lost a dog.
Lady (eagerly, with hand extended).Yes, yes! Where is he?
Market-man.Was he a curly, shaggy dog?
Lady.Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?
Market-man.Was your dog bright and playful?
Lady (in an excited manner).O, very! very!
Market-man.Answered to the name of Carlo?
Lady.Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!
Market-man (in surprise).Arms, ma’am? Arms? ’T is a Newfoundland dog! He could carry you in his arms!
Lady (dejected).O cruel, cruel disappointment!
Market-man.What kind of a dog was yours?
Lady.O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!
Market-man (going).Good day, ma’am. If I see him, I’ll fetch him.
ExitMarket-Man. Mikeenters with writing materials, and goes out again.Ladybegins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud.
Lady.Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly—(Tap at door.) Come!
Enter stupid-lookingBoy, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large hat.
Lady.Did you wish to see me?
Boy (drawling).Yes, ma’am.
Lady.About a dog?
Boy.Yes, ma’am.
Lady.Have you found one?
Boy.Yes, ma’am.
Lady.Is it a very small dog?
Boy.Yes, ma’am.
Lady.Sweet and playful?
Boy.Yes, ma’am?
Lady.Did you bring him with you?
Boy.Yes, ma’am (pointing). Out there.
Lady (excited).O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If it should! (Boybrings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted.)
Lady (in disgust).O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take him away!
Boy.Isn’t that your dog?
Lady.No! no! O, can’t you take the horrid animal away?
Boy (going).Yes, ma’am.
ExitBoywith dog.Ladyprepares to write.
Lady.Stupid thing! Now I’ll write. (Repeats.)Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly, white—(Tap at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)
Enter raggedBoy, with covered basket.
Lady.Haveyoufound a dog?
Boy.No, I hain’t found no dog.
Lady.Then what do you want?
Boy.Father sells puppies. Father said if you’d lost your dog, you’d want to buy one of ’em. Said you could take your pick out o’ these ’ere five. (Opens basket for her to look in.)
Lady (shuddering).Little wretches! Away with them!
Boy.They’ll grow, father said, high’s the table.
Lady.Carry them off, can’t you?
Boy.Father wants to know what you’ll take for your dog, running. Father said he’d give a dollar, an’ risk the ketchin’ on him.
Lady.Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry dollar!
Boy (going).Good mornin’. Guess I’ll be goin’. If I find your dog, I won’t (aside) let you know.
ExitBoy, with bow and scrape.
Lady (writes again, and repeats).Lost, strayed, or stolen. A cur—(Knock at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)
EnterMrs. Mulligan.
Mrs. Mulligan.An’ is it yourself lost a dog, thin?
Lady (eagerly).Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen him?
Mrs. Mulligan.Och, no. But’t was barkin’ all night he was, behint th’ ’ouse. An’ the b’ys,—that’s me Pat an’ Tim, theydroonedhim, mum, bad luck to ’em, in the mornin’ arly.
Lady.And did you see him?
Mrs. Mulligan.No, shure.
Lady.And where is he now?
Mrs. Mulligan.O, it’s safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o’ No Bottom Pond, mum.
Lady.And how do you know ’t is my dog?
Mrs. Mulligan.Faith, an’ whose dog should it be, thin?
Lady.Send your boys, and I’ll speak with them.
Mrs. Mulligan (going).I’ll send them, mum. Mornin’ mum.
ExitMrs. Mulligan. Another tap at the door.
Lady.O, this is not to be borne! Come!
EnterCountrywomanwith bandbox,—not an old woman.
Lady (earnestly).If it’s about a dog, tell me all you know at once! Is he living?
Countrywoman.Yes’m, but he’s quite poorly. I think dogs shows their sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin’s.
Lady.Do tell quick.
Countrywoman.Just what I want, for I’m in a hurry myself. So I’ll jump right inter the thick on ’t. You see last night when my old man was ridin’ out o’ town in his cart, with some o’ his cabbages left over, for garden sarse hadn’t been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin’ out on account o’ the off ox bein’ some lame, and my old man ain’t apt to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, you—
Lady.But about the dog!
Countrywoman.Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,—I alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,—and a countin’ over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and a little jug of—(nods and winks and smiles),—jest for a medicine, you know. For wenever do,—I nor the old man,—never, ’xcept in case o’ sickness.
Lady (impatiently).But what about the dog?
Countrywoman.Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jestgot to the outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’ which should have a dog,—a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur—
Lady.Yes! Go on! Go on!
Countrywoman.And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they took the fifty.
Lady (eagerly).And what did he do with him? Where is he now?
Countrywoman.Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it out! (Opening bandbox.) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (Takes out a white lapdog.)[A]
[A]A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.
[A]A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.
Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him).’T is my Carlo. O my precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and put him to sleep. (Rises to go out.)
Countrywoman.But the five dollars, marm!
Lady.O, you must call again. I can’t think of any paltry five dollars, now. (Exit.)
Countrywoman (calling out).I’ll wait, marm!
EnterMike.
Mike.An’ what bisness are ye doin’ here?
Countrywoman.Waiting for my pay.
Mike.Pay, is it? Och, she’ll niver pay the day. She’s owin’ me wages, an’ owin’ the cook, and Mrs.Flarty that scoors, and the millinery lady, an’ ’t is “Carl agin,” she sez. “Carl agin. Can’t ye carl agin?”
Countrywoman.Then I’ll get mine now. (Takes off shawl, and sits down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning on her knitting-sheath.) I don’t budge, without the pay.
Mikelooks on admiringly. Curtain drops.
Clerkstanding behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various placards on the walls,—“No credit.” “Goods marked down!” &c. EnterOld Woman.
Old Woman (speaking in rather high key).Do you keep stockings?
Clerk (handing box of stockings).O yes. Here are some, very good quality.
Old Woman (examining them).Mighty thin, them be.
Clerk.I assure you, they are warranted to wear.
Old Woman.To wear out, I guess.
EnterYoung Married Couple.
Clerk.Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day?
Wife (modestly).We wish to look at a few of your carpets.
Clerk.This way, ma’am.
Husband.Hem! (Clearing his throat.) We will look at something for parlors.
Clerk.Here is a style very much admired. (Unrolls carpet.) Elegant pattern. We import all our goods,ma’am. That’s a firm piece of goods. You couldn’t do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors.
Old Woman (coming near).A good rag carpet’ll wear out two o’ that.
Wife (to Husband).I think it is a lovely pattern. Don’t you like it, Charley?
Husband.Hem—well, I have seen prettier. But then, ’t is just as you say, dear.
Wife.O no, Charley. ’T is just as you say. I want to please you, dear.
Old Woman (to Clerk).Have you got any crash towelling?
Husband.What’s the price of this carpet?
Clerk.Three dollars a yard. Here’s another style (unrolls another) just brought in. (Attends to Old Woman.)
Husband (speaking to Wife).Perhaps we’d better look at the other articles you wanted. (They go to another part of the store, examining articles.)
Enter a spare, thinWoman, in plain dress and green veil.
Clerk.Can we sell you anything to-day?
Woman.I was thinking of buying a carpet.
Clerk.Step this way, ma’am. (Shows them.) We have all styles, ma’am.
Woman.I want one that will last. (Examining it.)
Clerk (taking hold of it).Firm as iron, ma’am. We’ve sold five hundred pieces of that goods. If it don’t wear, we’ll agree to pay back the money.
Woman.I want one that won’t show dirt.
Clerk.Warranted not to show dirt, ma’am. We warrant all our goods.
Woman.Can it be turned?
Clerk.Perfectly well, ma’am. ’Twill turn as long as there’s a bit of it left.
Woman.What do you ask?
Clerk.Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, but you may have it for three dollars.
Woman.Couldn’t you take less?
Clerk.Couldn’t take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale.
Woman.I think I’ll look further. (Going.)
Clerk.Well, now seeing it’s the last piece, you may have it for two fifty.
Woman.I wasn’t expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (Going.)
Clerk.Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Say two and a quarter, and take it.
Woman.I have decided not to go over two dollars. (Going.)
Clerk (crossly).Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five yards? I’ll measure it directly.
Old Woman.Have you got any cotton flannel?
EnterFashionable Lady.
Clerk (all attention, bowing).Good morning, madam. Can we sell you anything to-day?
Fashionable Lady.I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you anything new?
Clerk.This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. (Shows one.)
Fashionable Lady.It must light up well, or it will never suit me.
Clerk.Lights up beautifully, madam.
Fashionable Lady.Is this real tapestry?
Clerk.O, certainly, madam. We shouldn’t think of showing you any other.
Fashionable Lady.What’s the price?
Clerk.Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can’t offer it for less than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece.
Fashionable Lady.’T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, the price is no objection.
Old Woman (coming forward).Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get a strip to lay down afore the fire. (Speaking to Lady.) Goin’ to give six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip ’em up inter narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in great balls. That’s your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all colors. That’s your fillin’. Then hire your carpet wove, and that carpet’ll last.
EnterPolicemanand aGentleman.
Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady).That is the person.
Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder).This gentleman, madam, thinks you have—borroweda quantity of his lace goods.
Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment).I? Impossible! Impossible, sir!
Gentleman.I am sure of it.
Policeman.Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us?
Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement.
I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don’t know which. I never do know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the first sounds more melodious.
They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry’s. Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and he made a great ado turning it.
At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a general smash-up.
Dear Grandmother,—
The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want to have my skates here all ready. ’Most all the boys have got all theirs already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play trainer in when I’s a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you’ll find ’em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It’s down cellar. We went to be weighed, andthe man said I was built of solid timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then at his weights; he didn’t know what to make of it. For I’ve grown so much faster that we’re almost of a size.
First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we weighed?
The fellers call us “Dorry & Co.” because we keep together so much. When he goes anywhere he says “Come, Sweet William!” and when I go anywhere I say “Come, Old Dorrymas!” There’s a flower named Sweet William. There isn’t any fish named Dorrymas, but there’s one named Gurrymas. We keep our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of our traps. His bed is ’most close to mine, and the one that wakes up first pulls the other one’s hair. One boy that comes here is a funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. He isn’t a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He’s got great eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you’ll find my skates, and send ’em right off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come together, under my trainer trousers; you’ll see the red stripes.
Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn’t you think ’t was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. “Let’s get up a good one while we’re about it,” says he, “that won’t kick right out.” Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took in peanuts. O, you ought to ’ve seen that bag of peanuts! Held about half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told somebody that when anybody said, “Let’s get up something,” it wasn’t just the same as to say he’d pay part. But we say ’t is. And we talked about it down to the Two Betseys’ shop, and Lame Betsey said ’t was mean doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, “Anybody that won’t pay their part, I don’t carewhothey be.” And I’ve seen him eating taffy three times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if he’d take any, he took some.
Now Spicey won’t do that. We said he might kick, but he don’t want to, not till he gets his quarter. He’s going to earn it. If my skates don’t hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s been fooling with ’em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a piece of the floor is broke out. You’d better look down that hole. I’m going to send home my Report next time. I couldn’t get perfect every time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he’d know too much to come to school. But there’s some that do. Not verymany. Spicey did four days running. I could ’a got more perfects, only one time I didn’t know how far to get, and another time I didn’t hear what the question was he put out to me, and another time I didn’t stop to think and answered wrong when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says he wishes they’d take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put me out. I shouldn’t think visitors would look a feller right in the face, when he’s trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any other kind; don’t you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I laughed out loud. I didn’t mean to, but I’m easy to laugh. But Dorry he can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder Boy’s cheeks, and he couldn’t tell who snapped ’em, for Bubby Short would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some.
I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I’m going to send mine and Dorry’s photographs taken together. We both paid half. We got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. ’T is stoppinghere now. Course we didn’t expect to look very handsome. But the man says ’t is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. Says he tells ’em he has to take what’s before him. Dorry says he’s sure we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. Remember me to my sister.
Your affectionate Grandson,William Henry.
As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the three can give his merry laugh.
My dear Boy,—
Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn’t bear to send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running across and said his “muzzer said he must bwing Billy’s Pokerdaff in, wight off.” But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy’s Pokerdaff must be sent back very soon, and wasn’t goingout of my sight a minute while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think ’t is a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling at such times. I wish you’d had somebody to pull down your jacket, and see to your collar’s being even. But Aunt Phebe says ’t is a wonder you look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry’s picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross about? Says you look as if you’d go to fighting the minute you got up.
Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare ground, if we don’t watch him.
I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so venturesome. They always think there’s no danger. I said to your father, “Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we’d never sent them.” But he’s always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I don’t want to do that. But there’s reason in all things. And a boy needn’t drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you’ve got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won’t allow you to skate if the pond isn’t safe. But I don’t have faith in any pond being safe. My dear boy, there’s danger even if the thermometer is below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you.
Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won’t tell the price. They are high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the window of one of the grand stores, and thought he’d just step in and buy them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I’m speaking of the price. Now Georgie doesn’t go to parties, and where the child can wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won’t do, because her meeting dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege dress to match ’em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at the bottom he writes, ☞“Company expected to appear in blue boots.” So I dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, and draw my plush moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob takes her things, and waits upon her to the table, and they have great fun out of it.
My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won’t be so cruel as to laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don’t depend upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head and his heart. When I was a little girl and wentto school in the old school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant smile, that I haven’t forgotten yet, though ’t was a great many years ago. After we’d read and spelt, and the writing-books and ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I’ve remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way.
“I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And because I love them so well, I don’t want there should be anything bad about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;—I should be very sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. You can remember three words, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” we would say.
“Well, now, how long can you remember them?” he would ask,—“a week?”
“Yes sir.”
“Two weeks?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A month?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A year?”
“Guess so.”
“All your lives?”
Then some would say, “Yes, sir,” and some would say they guessed not, and some didn’t believe they could, and some knew they couldn’t.
“Well, children,” he would say at last, “now I will tell you what the three words are: Treat—everybody—well. Now what I want you to be surest to remember is ‘everybody.’ Everybody is a word that takes in a great many people, and a great many kinds of people,—takes in the washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand clothes, and the help in the kitchen,—takes in those we don’t like and even the ones that have done us harm. ‘Treat—everybody—well.’ For you can afford to. A pleasant word don’t cost anything to give, and is a very pleasant thing to take.”
The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn’t wear good clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the ones best that wore the best clothes. He’d seen children, and grown folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and then be ugly and snappish to poor people they’d hired to work for them. A real lady or gentleman,—he used toend off with this,—“A real lady, and a real gentleman will—treat—everybody—well.” And I will end off with this too. And don’t you ever forget it. For that you may be, my dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of
Your loving Grandmother.
P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for your Report.
I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go in and buy, and now I haven’t one.
Georgie’s boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her grandmother knit. And I couldn’t see any harm in her wearing a red dress with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for me, and I’ll never turn against them!
“Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!”
My Dear Grandmother,—
Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven’t sniffed my nose up any at Spicey. I’lltell you why. Because I remember when I first came, and had a red head, and how bad ’t was to be plagued all the time. But I tell you if he isn’t a queer-looking chap! Don’t talk any, hardly, but he’s great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs itself. But not out loud. Dorry says ’t is a very wide smile. It comes easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he don’t know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he laughs. Though he don’t have very much to give. But he can’t say no. All the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, “Give me a taste.” “Give me a taste,” till ’t was every bit tasted away. Then they tried him on slate-pencils,—his had bully points to them,—and he gave every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said ’t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said they’d done with ’em. Dorry says he’s going to ask him for his nose some day, and then see what he’ll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he’s a clever chap. And he won’t kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till he’s paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he said, No, I thank you. “Why not?” Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he guessed he’d rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and guess he heard about that feller that wouldn’t pay his part, and about his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the schoolabout money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn’t mean what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year’s Day, and all that. And to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He’d heard of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, because they knew ’t wouldn’t be asked for. The feller I told you about—the one that kicks and don’t pay—he owes Gapper Sky Blue for four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he knows Gapper won’t ask for two cents! Gapper let him have ’em for two cents, because he’d had ’em a good while and the edges of ’em were some crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won’t say anything ever, and so he’s trying to keep from paying. I guess his left ear burns sometimes!
Gapper can’t go round now, selling cakes, because he’s lame, and has to go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, and sell ’em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if ’t isn’t bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn’t there only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes ever so far. Bubby Short ’most got run over by a sleigh. He was going “knee-hacket” and didn’t see where he was going to, and went like lightning right between the horses’ legs, and didn’t hurt him a bit.
Last night when the moon shone the teachers let usgo out, and they went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn’t have the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we’d drag it way up to the top, and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, and away we’d go. Once it ’most tipped over. O, I never did see anything scream so loud as girls can when they’re scared? I wish ’t would be winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question we had last was, “Which is the best, Summer or Winter?” And we got so fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter to take notes, but I don’t know as you can read them, he was in such a hurry.
“In summer you can fly kites.
“In winter you can skate.
“In summer you have longer time to play.
“In winter you have best fun coasting evenings.
“In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats.
“In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings.
“In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball.
“In winter you can coast and make snow-forts.
“In summer you can go a fishing.
“So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole in the ice and set a light to draw ’em, and then take a jobber and job ’em as fast as you’re a mind to.
“In summer you can go take a sail.
“In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride.
“In summer you don’t freeze to death.
“In winter you don’t get sunstruck.
“In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing.
“In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the sleigh-bells jingle.
“In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other berries.
“In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!”
(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time.
“In summer you have Independent Day, and that’s the best day there is. For if it hadn’t been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria.
“In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather’s Day and Christmas and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that’s Washington’s Birthday. And if it hadn’t been for that we should have to mind Queen Victoria.”
When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful things all the year round. Bubby Short says he’s sure he’s glad, for if a feller couldn’thave fun what would he do? After we got out doors the summer ones that didn’t go over hollered out to the other ones that did, “Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! ’Fore I’d be Winter killed! Frost bit! Frost bit! ’Fore I’d be Frost bit!”
I should like to see my sister’s blue boots. I am very careful when I go a skating. There isn’t any spring-hole in our pond. I don’t know where my handkerchiefs go to.
Your affectionate Grandson,William Henry.
P. S. Don’t keep awake. I’ll look out. Bubby Short’s folks write just so to him. And Dorry’s. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be drowned?
The boys must have been much interested in that “Debating Society.” When William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called upon all to take sides.
My dear Brother,—
Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe’s to eat supper, and had on my light blue boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over because ’t was snowing, for he said the party couldn’t be put off because they had got all ready. But the party wasn’t anybody but me, but he’s all the time funning. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy he had some new rubber boots, but they didn’t get there till after supper, and then ’t was ’most his bedtime. But he got into the boots andwalked all round with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he didn’t want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots stay on till he got asleep, and then pull ’em off softly as she could. Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed about his boots, because soon as they pulled ’em a little bit, he reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then she pulled ’em off softly and stood ’em up in the corner. I carried my work with me, and ’t was the handkerchief that is going to be put in this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, because I was the party, in the best waiter.
And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped on,—six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, and she wouldn’t take a mite of care of them. She won’t let them get close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on ’em all the time, and broke one’s leg. She’s a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the pigs. When ’t was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put ashes on the fire first, sothey could keep warm all night. And in the night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and tumbled down on to the floor and ’most killed himself so he died afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the little pigs all night. For soon as ’t was daylight, and before too, Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his bedroom window that he couldn’t take a nap. He told me to send to you in my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning?
Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping this last one in a warm place, for they don’t dare to let it go into the pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she’s worse than a cannibal. But I don’t know what that is. He says they kill men and eat them alive, but I guess he’s funning. She dips a sponge in milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge.
Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn’t get himself out, and when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. Then he cried. Tommy’s cut off a piece of his own hair.
Your affectionate sister,Georgiana.
My dear Sister,—
You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I read about the pigs I tell you if they didn’t laugh! And when that little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, “Let’s play have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob’s question.” And we did. First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to tell people ’t was time to get up and to let everybody know they themselves were up and stirring about. Said he’d lain awake mornings, down in Jersey, and listened and heard ’em say just as plain as day. “I’m up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!”
Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they didn’t belong. Said he’d lain awake in the morning and heard ’em say, just as plain as day, “If you do, I’ll give it to you! I’ll give it to you oo oo oo!”
But a little chap that had come to hear what was goingon said ’t was more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he’d lain awake in the morning and listened and heard ’em say, “Come on if you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!”
Then ’t was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I’d lain awake in the morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, “Open your mouth wide and do as I do! Do as I do!” and then the young ones say, “Can’t quite do so! Can’t quite do so!”
Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what anybody said, but he’d always understood they were talking about the weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and where there’d been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks’ eggs.
The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our lessons, so the Debating Society stopped.
Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We had flags flying, and I tell you if ’t wasn’t a bully go! We went ten miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and they’d up and hurrah, and then we’d hurrah back again. And one lot of fellers, if they didn’t let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted ourdriver to stop, and let us give it to ’em good. But he wouldn’t do it. One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn’t get it unhitched again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm ’em in the hay. We ’most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, where there wasn’t very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held ’em in tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and then she was so scared she didn’t know what to do, but just stood still to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for her to stand close up to the drift, and then there’d be room enough.