A CHILD-WORLD, Part 3 COUSIN RUFUS' STORY
My little story, Cousin Rufus said,
Is not so much a story as a fact.
It is about a certain willful boy--
An aggrieved, unappreciated boy,
Grown to dislike his own home very much,
By reason of his parents being not
At all up to his rigid standard and
Requirements and exactions as a son
And disciplinarian. So, sullenly
He brooded over his disheartening
Environments and limitations, till,
At last, well knowing that the outside world
Would yield him favors never found at home,
He rose determinedly one July dawn--
Even before the call for breakfast - and,
Climbing the alley-fence, and bitterly
Shaking his clenched fist at the woodpile, he
Evanished down the turnpike. - Yes: he had,
Once and for all, put into execution
His long low-muttered threatenings - He had
Run off! - He had - had run away from home!
His parents, at discovery of his flight,
Bore up first-rate - especially his Pa,--
Quite possibly recalling his own youth,
And therefrom predicating, by high noon,
The absent one was very probably
Disporting his nude self in the delights
Of the old swimmin'-hole, some hundred yards
Below the slaughter-house, just east of town.
The stoic father, too, in his surmise
Was accurate - For, lo! the boy was there!
And there, too, he remained throughout the day-
Save at one starving interval in which
He clad his sunburnt shoulders long enough
To shy across a wheatfield, shadow-like,
And raid a neighboring orchard - bitterly,
And with spasmodic twitchings of the lip,
Bethinking him how all the other boys
Had homes to go to at the dinner-hour--
While he - alas! - he had no home! - At least
These very words seemed rising mockingly,
Until his every thought smacked raw and sour
And green and bitter as the apples he
In vain essayed to stay his hunger with.
Nor did he join the glad shouts when the boys
Returned rejuvenated for the long
Wet revel of the feverish afternoon.-
Yet, bravely, as his comrades splashed and swam
And spluttered, in their weltering merriment,
He tried to laugh, too,-but his voice was hoarse
And sounded to him like some other boy's.
And then he felt a sudden, poking sort
Of sickness at the heart, as though some cold
And scaly pain were blindly nosing it
Down in the dreggy darkness of his breast.
The tensioned pucker of his purple lips
Grew ever chillier and yet more tense-
The central hurt of it slow sprading till
It possess the little face entire.
And then there grew to be a knuckled knot-
And aching kind of core within his throat-
An ache, all dry and swallowless, which seemed
To ache on just as bad when he'd pretend
He didn't notice it as when he did
It was a kind of a conceited pain-
An overbearing, self-assertive and
Barberic sort of pain that clean outhurt
A boy's capacity for suffering-
So, many times, the little martyr needs
Must turn himself all suddenly and dive
From sight of his hilarious playmates and
Surreptitiously weep under water.
Thus
He wresteled with his awful agony
Till almost dark; and then, at last-then, with
The very latest lingering group of his
Companions, he moved turgidly toward home-
Nay, rather oozed that way, so slow he went,-
With lothful, hesitating, loitering,
Reluctant, late-election-returns air,
Heightened somewhat by the conscience-made resolve
Of chopping a double-armful of wood
As he went in by rear way of the kitchen.
And this resolve he executed; - yet
The hired girl made no comment whatsoever,
But went on washing up the supper-things,
Crooning the unutterably sad song, "Then think,
Oh, think how lonely this heart must ever be!"
Still, with affected carelessness, the boy
Ranged through the pantry; but the cupboard-door
Was locked. He sighed then like a wet fore-stick
And went out on the porch. - At least the pump,
He prophesied, would meet him kindly and
Shake hands with him and welcome his return!
And long he held the old tin dipper up--
And oh, how fresh and pure and sweet the draught!
Over the upturned brim, with grateful eyes
He saw the back-yard, in the gathering night,
Vague, dim and lonesome; but it all looked good:
The lightning-bugs, against the grape-vines, blinked
A sort of sallow gladness over his
Home-coming, with this softening of the heart.
He did not leave the dipper carelessly
In the milk-trough. - No: he hung it back upon
Its old nail thoughtfully - even tenderly.
All slowly then he turned and sauntered toward
The rain-barrel at the corner of the house,
And, pausing, peered into it at the few
Faint stars reflected there. Then - moved by some
Strange impulse new to him - he washed his feet.
He then went in the house - straight on into
The very room where sat his parents by
The evening lamp. - The father all intent
Reading his paper, and the mother quite
As intent with her sewing. Neither looked
Up at his entrance - even reproachfuly,-
And neither spoke. The wistful runaway
Drew a long, quavering breath, and then sat down
Upon the extreme edge of a chair. And all
Was very still there for a long, long while.-
Yet everything, someway, seemed restful-like
And homey and old-fashioned, good and kind,
And sort of kin to him! - Only too still!
If somebody would say something - just speak -
Or even rise up suddenly and come
And lift him by the ear sheer off his chair--
Or box his jaws - Lord bless 'em! - anything!-
Was he not there to thankfully accept
Any reception from parental source
Save this incomprehensible voicelessness.
O but the silence held its very breath!
If but the ticking clock would only strike
And for an instant drown the whispering,
Lisping, sifting sound the katydids
Made outside in the grassy nowhere. Far
Down some back-street he heard the faint halloo
Of boys at their night-game of "Town-Fox,"
But now with no desire at all to be
Participating in their sport. - No; no;-
Never again in this world would he want
To join them there! - he only wanted just
To stay in home of nights - Always - Always-
Forever and a day! He moved; and coughed-
Coughed hoarsely, too, through his rolled tongue; and yet
No vaguest of parental notice or
Solicitude in answer - no response -
No word - no look. O it was deathly still!-
So still it was that really he could not
Remember any prior silence that
At all approached it in profundity
And depth and density of utter hush.
He felt that he himself must break it; So,
Summoning every subtle artifice
Of seeming nonchanlance and native ease
And naturalness of utterance to his aid,
And gazing raptly at the house-cat where
She lay curled in her wonted corner of
The hearth-rug, dozing, he spoke airily
And said: "I see you've got the same old cat!"
BEWILDERING EMOTIONS
The merriment that followed was subdued-
As thought the story-teller's attitude
Were dual, in a sense, appealing quite
As much to sorrow as to mere delight,
According, haply, to the listener's bent
Either of sad or merry temperament.-
"And of your two appeals I much prefer
The pathos," said " The Noted Traveler,"-
"For should I live to twice my present years,
I know I could not quite forget the tears
That child-eyes bleed, the little palms nailed wide,
And quivering soul and body crucified....
But, bless 'em! there are no such children here
To-night, thank God! - Come here to me, my dear!"
He said to little Alex, in a tone
So winning that the sound of it alone
Had drawn a child more lothful to his knee:-
"And, now-sir, I'll agree,--
You tell us all a story, and then I
Will tell one."
"But I can't."
"Well, can't you try!"
"Yes, Mister: he kin tell one. Alex, tell
The one, you know, 'at you made up so well,
About the Bear. He allus tells that one,"
Said Bud, - "He gits it mixed some 'bout the gun
An' ax the Little Boy had, an' apples, too." --
Then Uncle Mart siad - "There, now! that'll do!-
Let Alexs tell his story his own way!"
And Alex, prompted thus, without delay
Began.
THE BEAR STORY
THAT ALEX 'IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F.
W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out
In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out
'Way in the grea'-big woods - he did. - An' he
Wuz goin' along- an' goin' along, you know,
An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "Wooh!"-
Ist thataway -"Woo-ooh!" An' he wuz skeered,
He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree-
A grea'-big tree, he did, - a sicka-more tree.
An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round,
An' 't'uz a Bear! - a grea'-big shore-nuff Bear!-
No: 't'uz two Bears, it wuz - two grea'-big Bears-
One of'em wuz - ist one's a grea'big Bear.-
But they ist boff went "Wooh!"- An' here they come
To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy
An' eat him up!
An' nen the Little Boy
He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come
The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git
The Little Boy an' eat him up- Oh, no!-
It 'uzn't the Big Bear' at clumb the tree-
It 'uz the Little Bear. So here he come
Climbin' the tree- an' climbin' the tree! Nen when
He git wite clos't to the Little Boy, w'y nen
The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun
An' shot the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead!
An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out
The tree - away clean to the ground, he did-
Spling-splung! he falled plum down, an' killed him, too!
An' lit wite side o' where the' Big Bear's at.
An' nen the Big Bear's awful made, you bet!-
'Cause -'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun
An' killed the Little Bear.- 'Cause the Big Bear
He-he'uz the Little Bear's Papa. - An' so here
He come to climb the big old tree an' git
The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when
The Little Boy he saw the grea'big Bear
A-comin', he uz badder skeered, he wuz,
Than any time! An' so he think he'll climb
Up higher - 'way up higher in the tree
"Than the old Bear kin climb, you know. - But he-
He can't climb higher 'an old Bears kin climb,-
'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees
Than any little boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld!
An' so here come the grea'-big Bear, he did-
A-climbin' up - an' up the tree, to git
The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so
The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher,
An' higher up the tree - an' higher - an' higher-
An' higher'n iss-here house is! - An' here come
The old Bear - clos'ter to him all the time!-
An' nen - first thing you know, - when th' old Big Bear
Wuz wite clos't to him - nen the Little Boy
Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf
An' shot an' killed him dead!- No; I fergot,-
He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all--
'Cause they 'uz no load in the gun, you know--
'Cause when he shot the Little Bear, w'y, nen
No load 'uz anymore nen in the gun!
But th' Little Boy clumbed higher up, he did-
He clumbed lots higher-an' on up higher - an' higher
An' higher - tel he ist can't climb no higher,
'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way
Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of
The tree, they'd break down wiz him ef he don't
Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen
He look around - An' here come th' old Bear!
An' so the Little Boy make up his mind He's got to ist git
out o' there some way!-
'Cause here come the old Bear! - so clos't, his bref's
Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is
Aginst his bare feet - ist like old "Ring's" bref
When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired.
So when th' old Bear's so clos't - the Little Boy
Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer 'nother tree--
No! -no he don't do that! - I tell you what
The Little Boy does:-W'y, nen-w'y, he- Oh, yes-
The Little Boy he finds a hole up there
"At's in the tree- an'climbs in there an' hides-
An' nen th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy
At all!- But, purty soon th' old Bear finds
The Little Boy's gun 'at's up there-'cause the gun
It's too tall to tooked wiv him in the hole.
So, when the old Bear find' the gun, he knows
The Little Boy's lst hid 'round somers there,--
An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff and sniff around,
An' sniff an' snuff around - so's he kin find
Out where the Little Boy's hid at. - An' nen-nen-
Oh, yes!-W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs
'Way out on a big limb- a grea'-long limb,--
An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole
An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!...Nen
The old Bear falls k-splunge! clean to the ground
An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did!
An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun
An' 'menced a climbin' down the tree agin--
No!- no, he didn't get his gun-'cause when
The Bear falled, nen the gun falled, too-An' broked
It all to pieces, too!- An' nicest gun!--
His Pa ist buyed it!- An' the Little Boy
Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down
The tree - an' climbin' down-an' climbin' down!--
An'-sir! when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,-w'y, nen
The old Bear he jumped up agin!= an' he
Ain't dead at all- ist 'tendin' thataway,
So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat
Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart
To climb clean down the tree. - An' the old Bear
He can't climb up the tree no more-'cause when
He fell, he broke one of his- He broke all
His legs!- an' nen he couldn't climb! But he
Ist won't go 'way an' let the Little Boy
Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear
Ist growls 'round there, he does- ist growls an' goes
"Wooh!-woo-ooh!" all the time! An' Little Boy
He haf to stay up in the tree - all night--
An' 'thout no supper neither! - Only they
Wuz apples on the tree! An' Little Boy
Et apples - ist all night - an' cried- an' cried!
Nen when 'tuz morning th' old Bear went "Wooh!"
Agin, an' try to climb up in the tree
An' git the Little Boy. - But he can't
Climb t'save his soul, he can't!- An' oh! he's mad!--
He ist tear up the ground! an' go "Woo-ooh!"
An'- Oh, yes!- purty soon, when morning's come
All light - so's you kin see, you know,- w'y, nen
The old Bear finds the Little Boy's gun, you know,
'At's on the ground.-(An' it ain't broke at all-
I ist said that!) An' so the old Bear think
He'll take the gun and shoot the Little Boy:--
But Bears they don't know much 'bout shootin' guns:
So when he go to shoot the Little Boy,
The old Bear got the other end the gun
Agin his should, 'stid o' th'other end--
So when he try to shoot the Little Boy,
It shot the Bear, it did- an killed him dead!
An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree
An' chopped his old wooly head off: - Yes, an' killed
The other Bear agin, he did - an' killed
All boff the bears, he did - an' tuk 'em home
An' cooked 'em, too, an' et 'em!
An' that's all.
THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE
The greeting of the company throughout
Was like a jubilee,- the chilren's shout
And fusillading hand-claps, with great guns
And detonations of the older ones,
Raged to such tumult of tempestuous joy,
It even more alarmed than pleased the boy;
Till, with a sudden twitching lip, he slid
Down to the floor and dodged across and hid
His face against his mother as she raised
Him to the shelter of her heart, and praised
His story in low whisperings, and smoothed
The "amber-colored hair," and kissed, and soothed
And lulled him back to sweet tranquillity--
"And 'ats a sign 'at you're the Ma fer me!"
He lisped, with gurgling ecstasy, and drew
Her closer, with shut eyes; and feeling, too,
If he could only purr now like a cat,
He would undoubtedly be doing that!
"And now" - the serious host said, lifting there
A hand entreating silence; - "now, aware
Of the good promise of our Traveler guest
To add some story with and for the rest,
I think I favor you, and him as well,
Asking a story I have heard him tell,
And know its truth, in each minute detail:"
Then leaning on his guest's chair, with a hale
Hand-pat by way of full indorsement, he
Said, "Yes- the Free-Slave story - certainly."
The old man, with his waddy notebook out,
And glittering spectacles, glanced round about
The expectant circle, and still firmer drew
His hat on, with a nervous cough or two:
And, save at times the big hard words, and tone
Of gathering passion - all the speaker's own,--
The tale that set each childish heart astir
Was thus told by " The Noted Traveler." |