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A CHILD-WORLD, Part 5 FLORETTY'S MUSICAL CONTRIBUTION
All seemed delighted, though the elders more,
Of course, than were the children.-Thus, before
Much interchange of mirthful compliment,
The story-teller said his stories "went"
(Like a bad candle) best when they went out,-
And that some sprightly music, dashed about,
Would wholly quench his "glimmer," and inspire
Far brighter lights.
And, answering this desire,
The fluitist opened, in a rapturous strain
Of rippling notes-a perfect April-rain
Of melody that drenched the senses through;-
Then-gentler-gentler-as the dusk sheds dew,
It fell, by velvety, staccatoed halts,
Swooning away in old "Von Weber's Waltz."
Then the young ladies sang "Isle of the Sea"-
In ebb and flow and wave so billowy,-
Only with quavering breath and folded eyes
The listeners heard, buoyed on the fall and rise
Of its insistent and exceeding stress
Of sweetness and ectatic tenderness.....
With lifted finger yet, Remembrance-List!-
"Beautiful isle of the sea!" wells in a mist
Of tremulous.....
....After much whispering
Among the children, Alex came to bring
Some kind of letter-as it seemed to be-
To Cousin Rufus. This he carelessly
Unfolded - reading to himself alone,-
But, since its contents became, later, known,
And no one "plagued so awful bad," the same
May here be given-of course without full name,
Fac-simile, or written kink or curl
Or clue. It read:-
"Wild Roved an indian Girl
Brite al Floretty"
deer freind
i now take
These means to send that Song to you and make
my Promus good to you in the Regards
Of doing What i Promust afterwards.
the notes and Words is both here Printed sos
you can git uncle Mart to read you them
And cousin Rufus you can git to Play
the notes fur you on eny Plezunt day
His Legul Work aint Pressing
Ever thine
As shore as the Vine
doth the Stump intwine
thou art my Lump of Sackkerrine
Rinaldo Rinaldine
the Pirut in Captivity.
.....Ther dropped
Another square scrap.-But the hand was stopped
That reached for it - Floretty suddenly
Had set a firm foot on her property-
Thinking it was the letter, not the song,-
But blushing to discover she was wrong,
When, with all gravity of face andair,
Her precious letter handed to her there
By Cousin Rufus left her even more
In apprehension than she was before.
But, testing his unwavering, kindly eye,
She seemed to put her last suspicion by,
And, in exchange, handed the song to him.-
A page torn from a song-book: Small and dim
Both notes and words were-but as plain as day
They seemed to him, as he began to play-
And plain to all the singers,-as he ran
An airy, warbling prelude, then began
Singing and swinging in so blithe a strain,
That every voice rang in the old refrain:
From the beginning of the song, clean through,
Floretty's features were a study to
The flutist who "read notes" so readily,
Yet read so little of the mystery
Of that face of the girl's.-Indeed one thing
Bewildered him quite into worrying,
And that was, noticing, throughout it all,
The Hired Man shrinking closer to the wall,
She ever backing toward him through the throng
Of barricading children-till the song
Was ended, and at last he saw her near
Enough to reach and take him by the ear
And pinch it just a pang's worth of her ire
And leave it burning like a coal of fire.
He noticed, too, in subtle pantomime
She seemed to dust him off, from time to time;
And when somebody, later, asked if she
Had never heard the song before-"What! me?"
She said-then blushed again and smiled,-
"I've knowed that song sence Adam was a child!-
It's jes a joke o' this-here man's.-He's learned
To read and write a little, and its turned
His fool-head some-That's all!"
And then some one
Of the loud-wrangling boys said-"Course they's none
No more, these days!-They's Fairies ust to be,
But they're all dead, a hundred years!" said he.
"Well, there's where you're mustakened!"-in reply
They heard Bud's voice, pitched sharp and thin and high.-
"An' how you goin' to prove it!"
"Well, I kin!"
Said Bud, with emphasis,-"They's one lives in
Our garden-and I see 'im wunst, wiv my
Own eyes-one time I did."
"Oh, what a lie!"
-"'Sh!"
A MODERN FAIRY
"Well,nen," said the skeptic-seeing there
The older folks attracted--"Tell us where
You saw him, an' all 'bout him!"
"Yes, my son,--
If you tell 'stories,' you may tell us one,"
The smiling father said, while Uncle Mart,
Behind him, winked at Bud, and pulled apart
His nose and chin with comical grimace--
Then sighed aloud, with sanctimonious face,--
"'How good and comely it is to see
Children and parents in friendship agree!'-
You fire away, Bud, on your Fairy-tale--
Your Uncle's here to back you!"
Somewhat pale,
And breathless as to speech, the little man
Gathered himself. And thus his story ran.
BUD'S FAIRY-TALE
Some peoples thinks they ain't no Fairies now
No more yet! - But they is, I bet! 'Cause ef
They wuzn't Fairies, nen I' like to know
Who'd w'ite 'bout Fairies in the books, an' tell
What Fairies does, an' how their picture looks,
An' all an' ever'thing! W'y, ef they don't
Be Fairies anymore, nen little boys
'U'd ist sleep when they go to sleep an' wont
Have ist no dweams at all, - 'Cause Fairies - good
Fairies - they're a-purpose to make dweams!
But they is Fairies - an I know they is!'
Cause one time wunst, when its all Summertime,
An' don't haf to be no fires in the stove
Er fireplace to keep warm wiv - ner don't haf
To wear old scratchy flannen shirts at all,
An' aint no freeze - ner cold - new snow!-An'-an'
Old skweeky twees got all the gween leaves on
An' ist keeps noddin', noddin' all the time,
Like they 'uz lazy an' a-twyin to go
To sleep an' couldn't, 'cause the wind won't quit
A-blowin' in 'em, an' the birds won't stop
A-singin', so's they kin. - But twees don't sleep,
I guess! But little boys sleeps - an' dweams, too.
An' that's a sign they's Fairies.
So, one time,
When I ben playin' "Store" wunst over in
The shed of their old stable, an' Ed Howard
He maked me quit a-bein' pardners, 'cause
I drinked the 'tend-like sody-water up
An' et the shore-nuff crackers. - W'y, nen I
Clumbed over in our garaden where the gwapes
Wuz purt'-nigh ripe: An' I wuz ist a-layin'
There on th' old cwooked seat 'at Pa maked in
Our arbor,-- an' so I 'uz layin' there
A-whittlin' beets wiv my new dog-knife, an'
A-lookin' wite up through the twimbly leaves--
An'wuzn't 'sleep at all! -An'-sir!-first thing
You know, a little Fairy hopped out there!-
A leetle-teenty Fairy!- hope-may-die!
An' he look' down at me, he did-An' he
Ain't bigger'n a yellerbird! - an' he
Say "Howdy-do!" he did-an' I could hear
Him-ist as plain!
Nen I say "Howdy-do!"
An' he say !I'm all hunkey, Nibsey; how
Is your folks comin' on?"
An' nen I say
"My name ain't 'Nibsey," neever- my name's Bud.-
An' what's your name?" I says to him
An' he
Ist laugh an'say " 'Bud's awful funny name!"
An' he ist laid back on a big bunch o' gwapes
An' laugh' an' laugh', he did - like somebody
'Uz tick-el-un his feet!
An' nen I say--
"What's your name," nen I say, "afore you bust
Yo'se'f a-laughin' 'bout my name?" I says,
An'nen he dwy up laughin'-kindo' mad--
An' say "W'y, my name's Squidjicum," he says.
An' nen I laugh an' say - "Gee! what a name!"
An' when I make fun of his name, like that,
He ist git awful mad an'spunky, an'
'Fore you know, he gwabbed holt of a vine--
A big long vine 'at's danglin' up there, an'
He ist helt on wite tight to that, an' down
He swung quick past my face, he did, an' ist
Kicked at me hard's he could!
But I'm too quick
Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out
An' ketched him, in my hand- an' helt him, too,
An' squeezed him, ist like lttle wobins when
They can't fly yet an' git flopped out their nest.
An' nen I turn him all wound over, an'
Look at him clos't, you know-wite clos't,-'cause ef
He is a Fairy, w'y, I want to see
The wings he's got.- But he's dwessed up so fine
'At I can't see no wings.-An' all the time
He's twyin' to kick me yet: An' so I take
F'esh holts an' squeeze agin-an' harder, too;
An' I says, "Hold up, Mr. Squidjicum!-
You're kickin' the w'ong man!" I says; an' nen
I ist squeeze' him, purt'-nigh my best, I did-
An' I heerd somepin' bust!-An' nen he cwied
An' says, "You better look out what you're doin'!-
You' bust' my spiderweb-suspen'ners, an'
You' got my roseleaf-coat all cwinkled up
So's I can't go to old Miss Hoodjicum's
Tea-party, 's' afternoon!"
An' nen I says
"Who's 'old Miss Hoodjicum"?" I says.-
An'he
Says "Ef you lemme loose I'll tell you."
So
I helt the little skeezics 'way fur out
In one hand- so's he can't jump down t' th'ground
Wivout a-gittin' all stove up: an' nen
I syas, "You're loose now. - Go ahead an' tell
'Bout the ;tea-party' where you're goin' at
So awful fast!" I says.
An'nen he say, --
"No use to tell you 'bout it, 'cause you wont
Believe it, 'less you go there your own se'f
An' see it wiv your own two eyes!" he says.
An' he says: "Ef you lemme shore-nuff loose,
An' p'omise 'at you'll keep wite still, an' won't
Tetch nothin' 'at you see - an' never tell
Nobody in the world - an' lemme loose-
W'y, nen I'll take you there!"
But I says, "Yes
An' ef I let you loose, you'll run!" I says.
An' he says "No, I won't! - I hope may die!"
Nen I says, "Cross your heart you won't!"
An' he
1st cross his heart; an' nen I reach an' set
The little feller up on a long vine-
An' he 'uz so tickled to git loose agin,
He gwab' the vine wiv boff his little hands
An' ist take an' turn in, he did, an' skin
'Bout forty-'leven cats!
Nen when he git
Through whirlin' wound the vine, an' set on top
Of it agin, w'y, nen his "woseleaf-coat"
He bwag so much about, it's ist all tored
Up, an' ist hangin' strips an' rags-so he
Look like his Pa's a dwunkard. An' so nen
When he see what he's done-a-actin' up
So smart,-he's awful mad, I guess; an' ist
Pout out his lips an' twis' his little face
Ist ugly as he kin, an' set an' tear
His whole coat off-an' sleeves an' all.-An' nen
He wad it all togevver an' ist throw
It at me ist as hard as he kin drive!
An' when I weach to ketch him, an' 'uz goin'
To give him 'nuvver squeezin', he ist flewed
Clean up on top the arbor!-'Cause, you know,
They wuz wings on him-when he tored his coat
Clean off-they wuz wings under there. But they
Wuz purty wobbly-like an' wouldn't work
Hardly at all-'Cause purty soon, when I
Throwed clods at him, an' sticks, an' got him shooed
Down off o' there, he come a-floppin' down
An' lit k-bang! on our old chicken-coop,
An' ist laid there a-whimper'n like a child!
An' I tiptoed up wite clos't, an' I says "What's
The matter wiv ye, Squidjicum?"
An' he
Says: "Dog-gone! when my wings gits stwaight agin,
Where you all crumple 'em," he says, "I bet
I'll ist fly clean away an' won't take you
To old Miss Hoodjicum's at all!' he says.
An' nen I ist weach out wite quick, I did,
An' gwab the sassy little snipe agin-
Nen tooked my topstwing an' tie down his wings
So's he can't fly, 'less'n I want him to!
An' nen I says: "Now, Mr. Squidjicum,
You better ist light out," I says, "to old
Miss Hoodjicum's an' show me how to git
There, too," I says; "er ef you don't," I says,
"I'll climb up wiv you on our buggy-shed
An' push you off!" I says.
An nen he say
All wight, he'll show me there; an' tell me nen
To set him down wite easy on his feet,
An' loosen up the stwing a little where
It cut him under th' arms. An' nen he says,
"Come on!" he says; an' went a-limpin' 'long
The garden-path-an' limpin' 'long an' 'long
Tel-purty soon he come on 'long to where's
A grea'-big cabbage-leaf. An' he stoop down
An' say "Come on inunder here wiv me!"
So I stoop down an' crawl inunder there,
Like he say.
An' inunder there's a grea'
Big clod, they is-a awful grea' big clod!
An' nen he says, "Roll this-here clod away!"
An' so I roll' the clod away. An' nen
It's all wet, where the dew'z inunder where
The old clod wuz,-an' nen the Fairy he
Git on the wet-place, too!" An' nen he say,
"Git on the wet-place, too!" An' nen he say,
"Now hold yer breff an' shet yer eyes!" he says,
"Tel I say Squinchy-winchy!" Nen he say --
Somepin in Dutch, i guess. - An'nen I felt
Like we 'uz sinkin' down - an' sinkin' down!-
Tel purty soon the little Fairy weach
An' pinch my nose an' yell at me an' say,
"Squinchy-winchy! Look wherever you please!"
Nen when I looked-Oh! they 'uz purtyest place
Down there you ever saw in all the World!-
They 'uz ist flowers an' woses--yes, an' twees
Wiv blossoms on an' big ripe apples boff!
An' butterflies, they wuz--an' hummin'-birds-
An' yellowbirds an' bluebirds--yes, an' red!-
An' ever'wheres an' all awound 'uz vines
Wiv ripe p'serve-pears on 'em!-Yes, an' all
An' ever'thing 'at's ever gwowin' in
A garden-er canned up-all ripe at wunst!-
It wuz ist like a garden--only it
'Uz ist a little bit o' garden-'bout big wound
A ist our twun'el-bed is.--An' all wound
An' wound the little garden's a gold fence-
An' little gold gate, too-an' ash-hopper
'At's all gold, too-an' ist full o' gold ashes!
An' wite in th' middle o' the garden wuz
A little gold house, 'at's ist 'bout as big
As ist a bird-cage is: An' in the house
They 'uz whole-lots more Fairies there-'cause I
Picked up the little house, an' peeked in at
The winders, an' I see 'em all in there
Ist buggin' round! An' Mr. Squidjicum
He twy to make me quit, but I gwab him,
An' poke him down the chimbly, too, I did!-
An' y'ort to see him hop out 'mongst 'em there!-
Ist like he 'uz the boss an' ist got back!-
"Hain't ye got on them-air dew-dumplin's yet?"
He says.
An' they says no.
An' nen he says-
"Better git at 'em nen!" he says, "wite quick-
'Cause old Miss Hoodjicum's a-comin'!"
Nen
They all set wound a little gold tub-an'
All 'menced a-peelin' dewdrops, ist like they
'Uz peaches.-An', it looked so funny, I
Ist laugh' out loud, an' dropped the little house,-
An' 't busted like a soap-bubble!-An't skeered
Me so, I-I-I-I,-it skeered me so,-
I-ist waked up.-No! I ain't ben asleep
An' dream it all, like you think,-but its shore
Fer-certain fact an' cross my heart it is!
A DELICIOUS INTERRUPTION
All were quite gracious in the plaudits
of Bud's Fairy; but another stir above
That murmur was occasioned by a sweet
Young lady-caller, from a neighboring street,
Who rose reluctantly to say good-night
To all the pleasant friends and the delight
Experienced,- as she had promised sure
To be back home by nine. Then paused, demure,
And wondered was it very dark. - Oh, no! -
She had come by herself and she could go
Without an excort. Ah, you sweeet girls all!
What young gallant but comes at such a call,
Your most abject of slaves! Why, there were three
Young men, and several men of family,
Contesting for the honor - which at last
Was given to Cousin Rufus; and he cast
A kingly look behind him, as the pair
Vanished with laughter in the darkness there.
As order was restored, with everything
Suggestive, in its way, of "romancing,"
Some one observed that now would be the chance
For Noey to relate a circumstance
That he - the very specious rumor went -
Had been eye-witness of, by accident.
Noey turned pippin-crimson; then turned pale
As death; then turned to flee, without avail. -
"There! head him off! Now! hold him in his chair!-
Tell us the Serenade-tale, now, Noey. - There!"
NOEY'S NIGHT-PIECE
"They ain't much 'tale' about it!" Noey said. -
"K'tawby grapes wuz gittin' good-n-red
I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me
'Ud kindo' browse round town, daytime, to see
What neighbers 'peared to have the most to spare
'At wuz git-at-able and no dog there
When we come round to get 'em, say 'bout ten
O'clock at night when mostly old folks then
Wuz snorin' at each other like they yit
Helt some old grudge 'at never slep' a bit.
Well, at the Pars'nige - ef ye'll call to mind,-
They's 'bout the biggest grape-arber you'll find
'Most anywheres. - And mostly there, we knowed
They wuz k'tawbies thick as ever growed --
Amd more'n they'd p'serve. - Besides I've heerd
Ma say k'tawby-grape-p'serves jes 'peared
A waste o' sugar, anyhow! - And so
My conscience stayed outside and lem me go
With Tubb, one night, the back-way, clean up through
That long black arber to the end next to
The house, where the k'tawbies, don't you know,
Wuz thickest. And t'uz lucky we went slow, -
Fer jest as we wuz cropin' tords the gray-
End, like, of the old arber--heerd Tubb say
In a skeered whisper, ' Hold up! They's some one
Jes slippin' in here! - and looks like a gun
He's carryin'! I golly, we both spread
Out flat aginst the ground! "'What's that?' Tubb said.-
And jet then -'plink! plunk! plink!' we heerd something
Under the back-porch-winder. - Then, i jing!
Of course we rickollected 'bout the young
School-mam 'at wuz a-boardin' there, and sung,
And played on the melodium in the choir.--
And she 'uz 'bout as purty to admire
As any girl in town! - the fac's is, she
Jest wuz, them times, to a dead certainty,
The bell o' this-here bailywick! - But - Well,-
I'd best git back to what I'm tryin' to tell:--
It wuz some feller come to serenade
Miss Wetherell: And there he plunked and played
His old guitar, and sung, and kep' his eye
]Set on her winder, blacker'n the sky! --
And black in stayed. - But mayby she wuz 'way
From home, er wore out - bein' Saturday!
"It seemed a good-'eal longer, but I know
He sung and plunked there half a' hour er so
Afore, it 'peared like, he could ever git
His own free qualified consents to quit
And go off 'bout his busines. When he went
I bet you could a-bought him fer a cent!
"And now, behold ye all! as Tubb and me
Wuz 'bout to raise up, - right in front we see
A feller slippin' out the arber, square
Smack under that-air little winder where
The other feller had been standin'. - And
Wuzn't no gun at all! - It wuz a flute,--
And whoop-ee! how it did git up and toot
And chirp and warble, tel a mockin'-bird
'Ud dast to never let hisse'f be heerd
Ferever, after sich miracalous, high
Jim-cracks and grand skyrootics played there by
Yer Cousin Rufus! - Yes-sir; it wuz him!--
And what's more, - all a-suddent that-air dim
Dark winder o' Miss Wetherell's wuz lit
Up like a'oyshture-sign, and under it
We see him sort o' wet his lips and smile
Down 'long his row o' dancin' fingers, while
He kindo' stiffened up and kinked his breath
And everlastin'ly jest blowed the peth
Out o' that-air old one-keyed flute of his.
And, bless their hearts, that's all the 'tale' they is!"
And even as Noey closed, all radiantly
The unconscious hero of the history,
Returning, met a perfect driving storm
Of welcome - a reception strangely warm
And unaccountable, to him, although
Most gratifying, - and he told them so.
"I only urge," he said, "my right to be
Enlightened." And a voice said: "Certainly"-
During your absence we agreed that you
Should tell us all a story, old or new,
Just in the immediate happy frame of mind
We knew you would return in." So, resigned,
The ready flutist tossed his hat aside--
Glanced at the children, smiled, and thus complied. |