LIBRARY 
 
 University of California 
 
 IRVINE
 
 * A 
 
 * 
 
 . .*, 
 

 
 A Bundle 
 
 of 
 
 Yarns
 
 A Bundle of Yarns 
 
 FRED W. SHIBLEY 
 
 PROVIDENCE : 
 
 H. GREGORY 
 
 1899
 
 es 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1899 
 
 BY 
 FRED W. SHIBI.EY 
 
 Printed by 
 ROBERT GRIKVE 
 (Journal of Commerce Co.) 
 Providence, R. I.
 
 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Me an' Ed an' Jane I 
 
 Coin' to Market 10 
 
 The Chivaree 17 
 
 The Schoolmarm 28 
 
 The Colt with the Tough Mouth . 43 
 
 Scarin' the Duke 57 
 
 The Remarkable Taste of Ebenezer 
 
 Brown 71 
 
 When Me an' Ed Got Religion . . 93 
 The Persuasive Eloquence of John 
 
 Wesley Cuff 106 
 
 The Tale of a Strange Bed . . . 141 
 The Cold Girl from Bald Mountain 157 
 
 The Calgary Poet 168 
 
 The Willipers at Newport . . .186 
 The Willipers at the Pier . . . 206 
 The Willipers' Thanksgiving . . 224 
 The Wolf at the Door . . . .239
 
 Me an' Ed an' Jane 
 
 When me an' Ed an' Jane was just 
 little fellers (I was two years older than 
 Ed, and Ed was two years older than 
 Jane), we didn't have the fancy toys to 
 amuse ourselves with that children have 
 now-days. Why, I don't believe we ever 
 received a present except at Christmas, and 
 you must remember our father was a good 
 Christian man and class leader to boot. 
 
 We used to set our caps for Christmas, 
 the whole pasel of us. Set 'em on the 
 center table in the parlor and go to sleep 
 expectin' to find marvellous things in 
 them in the mornin'. We usually found 
 a few bulls'-eyes and a dozen or so nuts and 
 raisins. But we were happy just the same, 
 and enjoyed ourselves about as well as the 
 average. 
 
 i
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Jane was always with us, and a clip she 
 was. I remember once, just after thresh- 
 in' you know, we lived on a farm, three 
 hundred acres it was, twenty miles from 
 the nearest city, in a typical country neigh 
 borhood. Well, as I was goin' to tell you 
 about Jane : One time just after threshin', 
 me an' Ed an' Jane crawled up on the 
 roof of the barn and jumped down on the 
 big straw stack in the barnyard. Any of 
 you that ever saw a straw stack, knows it is 
 built like a cone big at the bottom and 
 little at the top. Well, we jumped down 
 on the straw stack, and then it occurred to 
 Ed that it might be an interestin' experi 
 ence to slide down the stack. He tried 
 it, and came out all right. Then I tried 
 it and landed fair, and right after me came 
 Jane with a whoop and her petticoats flyin'. 
 It was fine, for you see, about five feet 
 from the ground the stack was built up 
 straight like a wall, and when we came to 
 this point in the slide we shot out into the 
 air like as if we was on a toboggan slide. 
 
 2
 
 ME AN' ED AN' JANE 
 
 We hadn't found anything for many a 
 day quite equal to that stack as a fun pro 
 ducer; so up we goes on the barn again, 
 down we jumps on the stack, and away we 
 goes on the slide to the ground. 
 
 Now it happened that there was some 
 cows feedin' in the barnyard, but we 
 hadn't noticed 'em, and these cows kept 
 edgin' 'round the stack toward our slide- 
 way. Well, now you know, after we had 
 been up and down half a dozen times or 
 so, we got to yellin' like wild Injuns and 
 seein' who could get 'round first. The last 
 round, Ed struck fair and jumped aside ; 
 I followed him and also jumped, for I 
 expected Jane was right after me, but she 
 wasn't. She was standin' on top of the 
 stack, holdin' both hands above her head 
 and shoutin' : " Watch me come, boys ! 
 Watch me come ! " 
 
 Now, just as she said those words, a 
 fat mulley cow walked leisurely forward 
 directly in front of us, and as Jane came 
 down she struck kerflop right on top of 
 
 3
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 that mulley cow. Yes, sir, fair on top as 
 you ever see ; and with a wild blat, the 
 cow started for the lane, Jane hangin' on 
 and yellin' for all she was worth. Ed laid 
 right down in the straw and shrieked with 
 laughter, and I was grinnin' from ear to 
 ear, when who do you think we saw, just 
 as Jane and her mulley cow disappeared 
 over the hill in the lane, but father, stand- 
 in' in the drive-house door. 
 
 " What are you boys laughin' at ? " he 
 said, stern as a judge. 
 
 Ed only laughed the louder, but I be 
 gan to feel mighty serious. 
 
 " Nothin' particular, sir," I said. 
 
 Then he asked, sudden like : " Where's 
 Jane?" 
 
 " She's gone over the hill in the lane," 
 I said. 
 
 " What in the world has she gone over 
 there for ? " he asked. 
 
 Ed was now lookin' solemn, too. 
 
 " Please, sir," he said, " will we go and 
 fetch her back ? "
 
 ME AN' ED AN' JANE 
 
 We didn't wait for his expression of 
 permission, but streaked it up the lane 
 as fast as our little legs could carry us. 
 We found Jane pickin' a thistle out of her 
 foot, near the sheep pond. 
 
 " Say, boys ! " she cried, the moment 
 she saw us, " you missed the best part of 
 it!" 
 
 "You ain't hurt?" I asked. 
 
 " No," she said. " I jumped off when 
 I'd gone as far as I wanted to. But, say, 
 boys, did you watch me sail out of the barn 
 yard?" 
 
 I tell you, Jane was a great girl. An 
 other time I remember, me an' Ed an' 
 Jane raised a pet steer. It was really 
 Jane's steer, for father was mighty fond 
 of her, and he'd let her do what he'd whale 
 us for doin'. This steer grew up to be 
 very tame, and Sime Snider, who was our 
 hired man, rigged up a harness for him, 
 and we used to hitch the steer to a big 
 red hand-sleigh, which had always been in 
 the family, and make it haul in our fire 
 
 5
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 wood from the wood pile to the kitchen 
 door. That was our regular work each 
 day, fillin' up the big wood box behind 
 the kitchen stove, and what we had once 
 hated like sin to do, became a pleasure 
 when we had taught the steer to haul the 
 sleigh. 
 
 Well, one night after we had heaped 
 up the wood box, we thought we would see 
 what the steer could do as a trotter, so we 
 piled on the sleigh, and I took the reins and 
 away we went up the road. The steer 
 trotted fine, and we was havin' a big time, 
 when it occurred to Ed that this was too 
 much fun to be enjoyed by just us three, 
 so I hauled up at a neighbor's and Ed 
 went in to get a boy and girl he had, and 
 who was about our age. Pretty soon 
 they came out, muffled up well, and their 
 father with 'em. He looked our rig over 
 with a grin on his face, and then he looked 
 at the steer. His face grew solemn at 
 once. 
 
 "Why, boys," he said, gravely, "don't 
 6
 
 ME AN' ED AN' JANE 
 
 you know that you can be arrested and 
 fined for drivin' on the highway without 
 bells?" 
 
 My jaw fell. I never thought of bells. 
 
 " We ain't got any bells," I returned, 
 "except our best double harness bells, 
 and we couldn't use them. 
 
 "Well, I think I can fix you out all 
 right," he said, and went into his drive 
 house, comin' out presently with an old 
 string of bells that must have been made in 
 the year one. They started with a bell as 
 large as your fist in the middle of the 
 string and tapered up both ways, and they 
 was a whole brass band when they jingled. 
 He tied these bells around the body of 
 the steer, our invited guests snuggled 
 down between Ed an' Jane, I chirped to 
 the steer, and away we went up the road 
 past the schoolhouse. I said we went, but 
 if I'd said we flew, it would be nearer 
 the truth, for the minute the steer heard 
 that string of bells strike up in wild mel 
 ody, it gave one blat and lit out for all it 
 
 7
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 was worth. A scarter steer you never 
 saw. I hung on to the lines with all my 
 strength, but it was no use ; the steer was 
 runnin' away! 
 
 It was one thing to be run away with 
 by a steer which found itself suddenly 
 transformed into a musical machine, and 
 another to live under the bombardment 
 of snow balls shot back at us from the 
 steer's flyin' hoofs. The others turned 
 their faces and hung on, but I kept one 
 eye open ahead. 
 
 Well, now you know, we hadn't gone 
 the width of a farm when what should I 
 see comin' toward us but old Henry Sim- 
 monds and his wife in a cutter ! There 
 was only one track, and the snow was 
 three feet deep on either side. In such a 
 case, the way to pass is for one to turn 
 out as far as possible and wait while the 
 other crept slowly past. Our steer was 
 not standin' on ceremony, and he needed 
 the middle of the road. Old Mr. Sim- 
 monds had turned out as far as he dared 
 8
 
 ME AN' ED AN' JANE 
 
 in the limited time at his disposal, but it 
 wasn't far enough, and as we flew by we 
 just took one runner off his cutter as 
 pretty as anything you ever saw. We 
 didn't stop to ask how badly the old lady 
 was hurt, but we saw her flyin' into a 
 snow bank. On up the road we went, 
 until the poor steer run himself to his 
 limit, and then he flopped down in the 
 road with one hopeless blat. When he 
 recovered his wind I unhitched the bells 
 and we turned the sleigh around and came 
 home, the steer trottin' as gentle as a 
 lamb. 
 
 It cost father $40 for repairs on Mr. 
 Simmond's cutter, but he made the neigh 
 bor who had given us the bells pay half, 
 as he claimed it was his fault. No, I 
 don't know what became of the bells. I 
 never saw them again.
 
 Coin' to Market 
 
 When I was only fourteen an' Ed 
 twelve, father used to get us up at five of 
 a cold winter's mornin', and start us off 
 for the city with a load of potatoes for 
 market. By gravy! it was cold. Me 
 an' Ed would stand around and shiver 
 and knock our heels together, while father 
 and Sime Snider loaded the bags of pota 
 toes into the big bob-sleigh ; and after 
 a bowl of supawn and milk and a few 
 hot pancakes, away we would start, with a 
 dollar and twenty cents for expenses, 
 fifty cents for baiting the horses in the 
 city, fifty cents for our dinners, ten cents 
 for toll, and ten cents for Joe Babcock, 
 who kept a tavern half way in. 
 
 It was our custom to stop at Joe's both 
 goin' in or comin' out, to spell the horses 
 10
 
 COIN' TO MARKET 
 
 and warm our ringers and toes, for I tell 
 you by the time we got to his place we 
 would be two pretty cold boys. Father 
 instructed us to hand Joe the ten cents, 
 as he felt the tavern keeper should be paid 
 a little somethin' for the use of his shed 
 an' furnishin' a warm fire. 
 
 Both me an' Ed felt kind of sheepish 
 about handin' Joe the ten cents, for we 
 felt it wasn't just customary, and as we 
 considered that father was such a religious 
 man, and consequently ignorant of the 
 genial customs of men of the world, we 
 decided to follow our own judgment and 
 do the thing up proper by havin' a five- 
 cent drink apiece over the bar like men, 
 and thus show a generous patronage of 
 the house. 
 
 The mornin' I am goin' to tell you 
 about we stopped at Joe's goin' in, but 
 didn't have our drink, decidin' that we 
 would probably enjoy it better in the 
 afternoon. So we went into the city, sold 
 our load of potatoes in the public market, 
 1 1
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 had our dinner and fed the horses all 
 right, and were just about to start for 
 home when Ed thought of a stick of gum 
 he'd promised to bring home to Jane. I 
 didn't have an extra cent ; neither had he. 
 So all we could do was to spend five of 
 the ten cents we had saved with which to 
 patronize Joe Babcock. Ed bought the 
 gum and we borrowed no trouble, such 
 being our natures at that time. 
 
 It was a beautiful afternoon clear as a 
 bell, and so cold that the snow cracked as 
 the steel runners of the bob-sleigh passed 
 over it. We boys didn't particularly mind 
 the cold just then, as we'd had a good 
 dinner and were not yet many miles out. 
 The horses jogged along, me drivin' I 
 always drove and Ed sittin' wrapped in 
 the buffalo robe to his ears, dreamin' of 
 something or other, when bump ! we 
 struck on the bright iron rails of the Grand 
 Trunk. We were upon the Teterville 
 Crossing. 
 
 It had always been our custom when 
 12
 
 COIN' TO MARKET 
 
 nearing this crossing to turn our heads 
 either side and watch for approachin' 
 trains, for this was a particularly danger 
 ous spot, several people havin' been killed 
 there. 
 
 Well, when we struck the rails, Ed 
 waked up with a start, and lookin' to the 
 right, saw the Chicago express about a 
 quarter of a mile off bearin' down upon us 
 with a roar. Without a moment's con 
 sideration for the distance, he sprang to 
 his feet, and liftin' both hands, waved 
 them wildly at the engine, shoutin' at the 
 top of his voice 
 
 " I say ! I say ! " 
 
 I nearly fell from the seat laughin,' for 
 you know, we weren't more than a couple 
 of seconds on the track. Ed looked 
 mighty sheepish, and Jane rolled on the 
 floor when I described to her Ed's frantic 
 attempt at stoppin' the Chicago express 
 by I say ! I say ! " 
 
 Well, we finally came within sight of 
 Joe's, and me an' Ed had to take into
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 serious consideration the crisis that awaited 
 us. Two drinks would cost ten cents, 
 and we only had five. 
 
 " I tell you what we'll do, Ed," I pro 
 posed ; " I don't care particularly about 
 the drink, do you ? " 
 
 " No," he replied. 
 
 " Well, one of us has got to take a 
 drink, and only one, for we've just got 
 five cents. So, supposin' you step up and 
 take it?" 
 
 " I don't want it, George," he said. 
 " You take it." 
 
 " Well, then," I went on, "if you feel 
 sure you don't want the drink, I s'pose 
 I'll have to take it; but you know, it'll 
 look kind of mean for me to step up to 
 the bar alone, so, s'posin' when I step up, 
 you'll be sittin' by the stove, and I'll say, 
 1 Ed, won't you have somethin' ? ' cordial 
 like, you know, and you'll say, careless 
 like, f No, thank you ; I guess not to-day.' 
 That'll blind Joe's eyes, you see." 
 
 "All right," Ed said. "That'll suit me." 
 
 14
 
 COIN' TO MARKET 
 
 So, when we came to Joe's, we put the 
 horses under the shed, covered 'em warmly 
 and went into the hotel to warm our own 
 stiffened joints. After I'd got nice and 
 comfortable, I gave Ed a wink and 
 marched up to the bar, behind which Joe 
 was standin'. 
 
 " Pretty cold day, Joe," I said. " Guess 
 I'll have a drink to warm up," and then 
 turnin 'to Ed, who sat dutifully by the 
 stove, his feet on the damper, I said : 
 "Will you have a drink, Ed?" 
 " Well, George, seem' as it's you, I 
 don't care if I do," Ed drawled out, and 
 saunterin' up to the bar, poured out a 
 drink unconcerned as you please, without 
 ever lookin' at me. 
 
 Joe saw I was rattled, and said he : 
 " George, what you goin' to have?" 
 So, while I felt mean enough to sink 
 through the floor, I told him I only had 
 five cents, and was just workin' a bluff on 
 Ed. Joe laughed till the tears rolled 
 down his fat cheeks, and then declared 
 
 15
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 that the drinks was on him, and wouldn't 
 take a cent. 
 
 "Your father'll limber up one of these 
 days, boys," he said, " but a little change 
 in the pocket won't look so big to you 
 then."
 
 "The Chivaree" 
 
 When any young couple in the neigh 
 borhood got married, we always gave 'em 
 a chivaree. No, I don't know where the 
 word came from, but that's what we called 
 it. It wasn't the custom then to make 
 very lengthy weddin' trips ; from the old 
 to the new home, at the head of a long 
 procession of top buggies or cutters, as 
 the season might be, was about the size of 
 it, and the day after the weddin', Mary 
 put on her calico and John his homespun, 
 and the romance dwindled down into 
 solid happiness. 
 
 It was the first night at the new home, 
 wherever it might be, that the chivaree 
 took place, and we boys used to make it 
 warm, I tell you. 
 
 Well, the night I'm goin' to tell you
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 about, a feller by the name of Lem Silver 
 had married a girl from the next concession 
 named Polly Hegadorn, and had brought 
 her home to live with his old folks. Old 
 Cyrene Silver, Lem's father, was a crusty, 
 tight-fisted customer, and none of the 
 boys wasted much love on him. So we 
 had planned, the moment we heard of the 
 approachin' weddin', to wake Uncle Cy 
 rene up a bit and make him shell out five 
 dollars, the customary tip. 
 
 Father somehow heard of the threat 
 ened chivaree, and on the evenin' in 
 question, after supper, while me an' Ed 
 was sittin' innocent as two lambs by the 
 cook stove, he said to us : 
 
 " Boys, I hear there's goin' to be a 
 chivaree up to Cyrene Silver's to-night. 
 Now, I want you to distinctly understand 
 that you're not goin'," and he added as a 
 clincher " if I ever hear of you attendin' 
 one of them disgraceful affairs, I'll tan 
 your jackets for you." 
 
 Then he sat down to read the Christian
 
 THE CHIVAREE 
 
 Guardian, while me an' Ed exchanged sly 
 winks, and Jane made eyes at us from 
 across the cook stove. 
 
 At eight o'clock we went to bed, solemn 
 as mice, and it wasn't long before we 
 heard father windin' up the clock, puttin' 
 out the dog and lockin' up for the night. 
 
 We waited half an hour longer, and 
 then slid out of bed, all dressed, opened 
 the window, crawled out, and scooted up 
 the road to Will Tinker's, where we had 
 previously agreed to meet and black up. 
 Oh, yes, we always blacked up. It 
 wouldn't have been a chivaree done in 
 proper style if we hadn't. 
 
 When the crowd was ready we started, 
 with tin horns, cow bells, horse pistols, 
 old army muskets, wash boilers, and every 
 blame thing you can think of as a likely 
 ear-splitter. 
 
 At the four corners we met a gang of 
 fellers from the next concession friends 
 of the bride rigged out in fantastic gar 
 ments, and haulin' a small cannon which 
 
 19
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 they had borrowed from an Orange lodge 
 for the occasion. They fell in with us 
 readily enough, and together we swooped 
 down on the home of the happy couple. 
 
 Will Tinker, who always led us in these 
 chivarees, was chosen to make the speech 
 after the first salute, for he was a natural- 
 born speaker and had a loud voice. So 
 we grouped around him in the front yard, 
 and, at command, began a symphony of 
 tin pans, tin horns, conch shells, and cow 
 bells, with the occasional poppin' of a 
 horse pistol as a variation. It didn't raise 
 a bird ! The blinds were closely drawn, 
 and we could only see traces of a dim 
 light in the sittin' room. 
 
 Will looked wistfully at the cannon, 
 but resisted the temptation, and ordered 
 another onslaught, with the muskets this 
 time for the climax. You know those 
 old, long, army muskets ? six feet tall an' 
 capable of holdin' a handful of powder? 
 Lord ! how they did roar when they came 
 in ! One of the firers was kicked clean 
 20
 
 THE CHIVAREE 
 
 through the front gate out into the road. 
 
 But they did the business, for we heard 
 the front door open and saw Uncle Cyrene 
 standin' bare-headed on the stoop. With 
 a wave of the hand, Will Tinker com 
 manded silence, and began his usual 
 speech, flowery as a hot-house and every 
 word a jaw-breaker. But the old man 
 wouldn't listen. 
 
 " Shet up, you fool ! " he yelled, "and 
 listen to me. I won't stand any of this 
 dum tomfoolery on my premises do ye 
 hear ? And ef the whole pasel of you ain't 
 out o' my yard in one minute, I'll hev ye 
 all up for assault and battery." 
 
 " Pay toll or stand treat ! " Will hol 
 lered back, defiantly. 
 
 " Not a cent, or a mug o' cider," Uncle 
 Cyrene replied, and returnin' to the house, 
 slammed the door in our faces. 
 
 Then we started to sing a song Ed had 
 made up about Lem and Polly, which 
 we'd all learned by heart. A mighty 
 good song it was, and I wish I could re- 
 
 21
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 member a verse or so, but I never could 
 recall the words of a song. 
 
 This didn't soothe the troubled waters, 
 and so the leader of the boys from the 
 next concession determined to bring the 
 cannon into play. It was hauled under 
 the window of the sittin' room and loaded 
 to the muzzle ; then all stood back while 
 it was fired. 
 
 I'll never forget till my dyin' day the 
 noise that cannon made. It just tore 
 things to pieces and broke every pane of 
 glass in the sittin' room window. We 
 were all about scart to death, but it 
 scart old Cyrene worse'n any of us, for 
 he came totterin' out from the front door 
 pale as a sheet, with a five-dollar bill in 
 his hand. He couldn't open his mouth, 
 he was that scart, but we caught a 
 glimpse of Lem and Polly peekin' through 
 the open door, grinnin' from ear to ear; 
 so this cheered us up, and Will delivered 
 his speech, while the old man stood and 
 took it gentle as a kitten. 
 
 22
 
 THE CHIVAREE 
 
 We took the five dollars and gave half 
 to the boys from the next concession, 
 hauled the cannon out into the road, fired 
 a partin' salute, and started for home. 
 
 Everything so far had gone well, but it 
 wasn't to end so, for just as we got to 
 the four corners, Pete Hawley, one of our 
 fellers, picked a quarrel, as he was always 
 doin', with a boy twice his size from the 
 other crowd, and nothin' would do but 
 they must fight it out. We smaller boys 
 crawled up on a lumber pile beside a 
 cooper shop, to see the fun. Now you 
 must keep this lumber pile in mind, for it 
 had a lot to do with subsequent events. 
 You've all seen the kind of lumber pile it 
 was, I guess a three-sided, holler affair, 
 you know the boards overlappin' at each 
 corner, the lumber bein' piled this way to 
 season. It was probably twelve feet high. 
 Anyway, we climbed up to the top board, 
 so as to see the fight, and with us came a 
 long-geared boy from the next concession 
 crowd, one of them growed-in-a-night 
 
 23
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 kind of boys. I see him now, sittin' there 
 in the moonlight, his lank knees up to his 
 chin, for his heels was stuck in between 
 the second and third board. Pete Hawley 
 won the fight he always did and down 
 we came from our roost and scampered for 
 home. 
 
 Me an' Ed was about fagged out, I 
 tell you, when we crawled through the 
 window into our room, and undressin', 
 fell into bed. I never knew a thing after 
 I struck the piller till I heard father's 
 sharp voice from the kitchen, 
 
 " Get up, there, you boys, and tend to 
 your chores." 
 
 I 'rose by instinct, hauled on my 
 trousers, and went out into the kitchen, 
 rubbin' my eyes. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you not to go to that 
 chivaree?" was the first words of greetin', 
 an' father was standin' over me with a 
 half-raised stick of stove wood. 
 
 " We ain't been to no chivaree," I 
 mumbled in reply. 
 
 24
 
 THE CHIVAREE 
 
 " How dare you lie to me? " he cried. 
 
 " I aint lyin', I said, stoutly. 
 
 " Oh, I'll warm you boys for this ! " he 
 went on ; first, for disobeyin' me an' then 
 lyin' about it." 
 
 " But, sir," I managed to say, " how 
 could we have gone to the chivaree when 
 we haven't been out of our beds all 
 night." 
 
 "Haven't been out of your beds all 
 night !" father cried. "To think that a 
 son of mine should be such a liar ! " 
 
 I couldn't imagine what made him so 
 positive, for I knew that if he'd missed 
 us durin' the night he would have either 
 gone after us, or been waitin' our return, 
 for with all his apparent harshness, us two 
 boys was the apple of his eye, and he 
 couldn't have slept a wink. 
 
 " Come out of there, you ! " he shouted 
 at Ed, and I turned an' saw poor Ed come 
 stumblin' from the room, still half asleep, 
 an' diggin* his knuckles into his eyes. 
 The mystery was explained. Ed's face 
 
 25
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 was as black as a nigger's, save where the 
 piller had rubbed some of the stuff off. 
 We had forgot to wash ! 
 
 I tell you, we got a trouncin' for that 
 affair, and Jane stood in the wood-house 
 door an' bawled in sympathy while we 
 was gettin' it. But pshaw ! we didn't 
 mind a little thing like that, and was all 
 over it in an hour. 
 
 About the lumber pile ? Say ! I nearly 
 forgot that, an' it's really the best part of 
 the story. 
 
 That was the funniest thing ! I can't 
 help laffin' when I think of it. You re 
 member the tall, gawky boy I told you 
 of, who climbed up an' sat beside us dur- 
 in' the fight ? Well, now you know, that 
 boy was lost to sight from that night. His 
 parents went wild, but the other boys 
 couldn't remember where they'd seen him 
 last. He was one of them still, quiet 
 boys, you know, the kind of feller that 
 just glides along an' never says nothin'. 
 They searched the woods high an' low, 
 26
 
 THE CHIVAREE 
 
 and even advertised in the papers, but no 
 boy turned up. I never saw the neigh 
 borhood so excited. 
 
 Me an' Ed could both tell a straight 
 story. We remembered him well climbin' 
 up the lumber pile, an' we left him there 
 when we went home. It was a mystery, 
 and after awhile even his parents gave up 
 lookin'. 
 
 Now, where do ye think they found 
 him ? You'd never guess. In the middle 
 of that lumber pile, dead as a door-nail ! 
 He'd fell over backward an' broke his 
 neck. Did you ever hear the like ! 
 Course, me an' Ed felt sorry for him at 
 first, but we didn't know him well, and 
 whenever we'd think of that long, lanky boy 
 sittin' there with his knees in the air, an' 
 all of a sudden tumblin' over backwards 
 into that lumber pile, we couldn't help 
 laffin'. It was funny, I'm darned if it 
 wasn't. But it ended our chivarees for 
 many a long day. 
 
 27
 
 The Schoolmarm 
 
 Did I ever tell you about the way we 
 fooled Tish Brown's father's only brother 
 Ebenezer on his own honey? Well, I'll 
 tell you that story after a bit, but I'm goin' 
 to tell you now about Mary Jane Brown, 
 this same Ebenezer's daughter, who once 
 taught school in our neighborhood. 
 
 Ebenezer Brown was a mighty religious 
 man, bein' a steward in the church, the 
 same as father, an* when Mary Jane got 
 her certificate an' went for a schoolmarm, 
 it worried her father terrible for fear she'd 
 forget the strict rules of conduct he'd laid 
 down to her at home. 
 
 It so happened that she was chosen to 
 
 teach in the little red schoolhouse in our 
 
 neighborhood, and as this was only a few 
 
 miles from her home, you'd hardly think 
 
 28
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 that Ebenezer would have thought that 
 his darlin' daughter had gone far away 
 from him into the wide, sinful world, but 
 he did. 
 
 Father was head trustee, an' it was the 
 custom for the teacher to start her round 
 of boardin' with us. So, the day after 
 New Year's, Ebenezer fetched Mary Jane 
 an' her trunk to our place, and handed 
 her over gingerly to mother. Then he 
 found father in the drive-house an' said 
 to him, very solemn : 
 
 " Stephen, I've brought Mary Jane to 
 stop with you a spell, an' it's mighty glad 
 I'd be of placin' her in your care an' that 
 of your excellent wife but for one thing." 
 
 " What's that ? " father asked, sharply, 
 as was his way. 
 
 " Well, you see," Ebenezer went on, 
 " Mary Jane's my one ewe lamb, an' I've 
 bin terrible particklar about her bringin' 
 up, an' if I do say it of my own child, she 
 jest simply don't know that there's sich a 
 thing as sin in the world." 
 29
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "You don't mean me to infer, Eben- 
 ezer," father said, most taken off his feet, 
 " that my house ain't a fit place for your 
 daughter? " 
 
 "Nothin' of the sort, nothin' of the 
 sort," returned Ebenezer, winkin' his 
 little eyes as if he'd caught a cinder. He 
 was the worse man to wink his eyes you 
 ever see. " I know you, Stephen, to the 
 backbone," he went on, "an' I've allus 
 said if there was one woman more worthy 
 than another to take the blessed sacrament 
 it was your wife ; but it's the boys, George 
 an' Ed, that I'm afraid of." 
 
 "What of them ? " father asked, for he 
 was techy on the subject of me an' Ed, 
 and for all he would dress us down himself 
 for every little thing, he didn't relish 
 listenin' to other folks doin' it. 
 
 " George an' Ed are bright boys, I 
 own," Ebenezer answered, cautious like; 
 "but the truth is, Stephen, that since 
 they've growed up to what might be called 
 young men, they've been considerably 
 
 30
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 talked about, I understand, not only in 
 this neighborhood, but as far away as 
 our section. You do let 'em go about 
 considerable, you can't deny that, Stephen; 
 an' I've even heard that they've a rig 
 apiece an' drive out to wait on girls of a 
 Sunday, jest as if they was courtin'. Why, 
 only last Sunday George was down to see 
 my brother's girl, Letitia." 
 
 " I don't see anything very wicked in 
 that," father said, dryly. 
 
 " But that ain't it," continued Eben- 
 ezer, evidently with a load on his mind. 
 " Folks say they go to dances an' public 
 parties; and, while far be it from me to say 
 what other folk's children should be 
 'lowed to do, I want it distinctly under 
 stood that my Mary Jane shall never 
 dance a step while I live. So I ask you, 
 Stephen, as brother Christian to brother, 
 to keep an eye on the boys an' see that 
 they don't put any wild notions in Mary 
 Jane's head." 
 
 They had some more talk, but that was 
 
 3 1
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 the substance of it, and father lectured me 
 an' Ed for an hour in the barn, where we 
 all sat huskin' corn, on the strength of it. 
 
 Now, it kind of riled me an' Ed to be 
 raked over the coals by old Ebenezer 
 Brown, who had the reputation of tradin' 
 horses not strictly on points, and we 
 made up our minds to give Mary Jane a 
 good lettin' alone, although she was a 
 kind of cute little thing, an' we both 
 liked her. 
 
 We was now long about twenty and 
 eighteen, me an' Ed, and we liked a good 
 time as well as the next one. Ed had 
 learned to play the riddle, and as I could 
 "call off" fine, we was in great demand 
 at all the dances for as much as five miles 
 around home. 
 
 There was lots of dances that winter, 
 and we went to most of 'em. It's true, 
 we only had one cutter between us, but 
 we used to take turns usin' it, and the 
 unfortunate one had to drive his girl in a 
 light market sleigh we had.
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 Mary Jane saw us goin' and comin' 
 from these parties, and as her cousin Tish 
 used to tell her everything, she knew we 
 was goin' to dances, an' that I took Tish 
 every time we could fix up a yarn that 
 would deceive the latter's father. 
 
 Mary Jane got restless after a bit, see- 
 in' so much fun goin' on under her nose 
 an' her not in it. So she up and says to 
 me one day, when I'd picked her up at the 
 schoolhouse on my way from the village, 
 and was drivin' her home : 
 
 " George," she says, " I hear there's 
 goin' to be a party down to Jones's Mills 
 next Friday evenin'.' ' 
 
 " I've heard so, too," I says, wonderin' 
 what she was drivin' at. 
 
 " What kind of a party is it goin' to 
 be ? " she says. 
 
 "Church of England," I says. "A 
 kind of house-warmin' at the Stevens's 
 for the English Church. They set a box 
 near the door, an' you can drop in what 
 you like." 
 
 33
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Oh, is that all," says Mary Jane, 
 mournful like. " Tish told me it was 
 goin' to be a dance." 
 
 " Tish is a great talker," I says. 
 
 Now, it struck me that Mary Jane 
 seemed quite cast down when I didn't 
 give her any encouragement in the matter 
 of the party. She sat silent for a bit, an' 
 then she put up her face, bashful like (she 
 was a mighty pretty girl when she looked 
 like that), and said : 
 
 " It's awful stupid of me stayin' home 
 every night, and Tish and you an' Ed 
 and the rest of the young folks havin' 
 such good times. I just said so to Tish, 
 and she said to me, f Mary Jane, you're a 
 little fool for bein' so timid. Why don't 
 you ask George to take you ? ' There, 
 now ! " 
 
 " Not to a dance ! " says I, horrified. 
 
 " But this ain't goin' to be a dance ; 
 just a party," she pleaded. 
 
 " Well," says I, " It's just like this, 
 Mary Jane : Your father would have a 
 
 34
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 fit if he heard of you goin' anywhere with 
 me or Ed. We're bad, wicked boys, to 
 him," I says. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " she says, smilin' up at me. 
 " Father's an old fossil, that's what he is, 
 and haven't I known you an' Ed for 
 years, and don't Tish go with you every 
 where ? " 
 
 It occurred to me right there an' then 
 that Mary Jane had been very much 
 underestimated by me an' Ed, and I de 
 cided that if she wanted to go to the 
 Church of England party, I'd take her 
 an' let old Ebenezer go to the deuce. So 
 says I : 
 
 " Mary Jane, if you want to go next 
 Friday evenin', get ready for it an' I'll 
 take you, though I half promised to take 
 Tish, and it's Ed's turn for the cutter." 
 
 " Tish won't mind ; she said she 
 wouldn't," Mary Jane says in return, and 
 I saw that Tish had been puttin' notions 
 into her good little cousin's head. 
 
 I tried to buy Ed off on the cutter, but 
 
 35
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 it wouldn't go, for he had a new girl in 
 mind for the party, and wanted to go 
 in style. Ed was mighty selfish about the 
 cutter when it was his turn. But to make 
 matters worse, what does father an* 
 mother decide to do but go visitin' on 
 Friday, sayin' they won't be home till 
 long in the evenin', and they knew me an' 
 Ed intended goin' to the party ! 
 
 Ed laughed an' Mary Jane cried when 
 they heard of this last stroke ; but I wasn't 
 to be beat, 'specially when Mary Jane felt 
 so bad about it, and had worked all the 
 week on her dress. 
 
 So when father an' mother drove off", I 
 cleaned out the big bob-sleigh the box 
 was eighteen inches high and ten feet long, 
 filled it half full of clean rye straw, 
 fixed the seat comfortable, and decided to 
 hitch in the span an' drive Mary Jane to the 
 party. I knew I could sneak the bobs into 
 the Church shed where none of the other 
 fellers would be likely to spot me, for 
 we was mighty sensitive on the point 
 
 36
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 of our turnouts in them days, I tell you. 
 
 We got to the party all right, and I 
 see that Mary Jane was enjoyin' every 
 minute of it. They had all kinds of 
 games good old games they was that 
 took the bashfulness out of a feller; and 
 the schoolmarm went into it, blushin' but 
 happy. 
 
 Long about 'leven o'clock the older 
 folks began to leave for home, and I saw 
 Ed goin' into the big dinin' room with his 
 fiddle under his arm. I knew the trouble 
 was about to begin, for you know all these 
 Church of England parties was sure to end 
 up in a dance. 
 
 I found Mary Jane talkin' with Will 
 Tinker an' eatin' a big apple, and I called 
 her to one side. 
 
 " Mary Jane," I says, very polite like, 
 "it's goin' on midnight, and some of the 
 folks are beginnin' to leave. Don't you 
 think you'd better be makin' a move to 
 wards puttin' on your things ? " 
 
 " Dear me, George ! " she cried, " you 
 
 37
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 don't say it's so late! I'd have guessed 
 ten at the latest." 
 
 At that moment I heard Ed draw the 
 bow across his fiddle, tunin' up, and it 
 fairly made my heart ache. 
 
 " Must we really be goin' ? " says Mary 
 Jane, plaintive like, not pretendin' to have 
 heard the fiddle. 
 
 "To tell the truth," says I, solemn as 
 a judge, " I'm surprised at this party. 
 They're turnin' it into a dance, I'm 
 afraid ! " 
 
 Mary Jane looked horrified. " We 
 must go home ! " she said 
 
 I don't know whether it showed in my 
 face or not, but I did hate like a dog to 
 leave when the fun was just commencin', 
 and I knew that Will Tinker would be 
 only too glad to get a chance of callin' off. 
 Mary Jane evidently saw my distress, for 
 says she : 
 
 " George, you don't want to go." 
 
 " To be honest," says I, " Mary Jane, 
 I don't." 
 
 38
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 "Couldn't I just stand an' look on?" 
 she says. 
 
 My spirits rose. "Yes," says I, "you 
 can if you only will, but your father'll skin 
 you if he ever hears of it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " says she with that darin' 
 twinkle of the eye. " I guess I'm safe 
 with you, George." 
 
 The dance began. I called off the 
 square an' the round dances, and danced 
 all the waltzes an' polkas. Mary Jane 
 sat in a chair near the dinin' room door, 
 and every time I passed her she smiled 
 up at me just as happy as a kitten. 
 
 Durin' an intermission, while Ed was 
 eatin' cake with his new girl (and a daisy 
 she was I'd never seen her before), I 
 went over an' set down by Mary Jane. 
 
 " Ain't it lovely to know how to dance," 
 says she, all aglow. "Oh, if I only knew 
 how ! " 
 
 " It's nothin' to learn," says I. 
 
 " Do you think I could learn ? " says 
 she, earnest like. 
 
 39
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Can a duck swim ? " says I, laughin'. 
 
 " Really," says she, " do you think I 
 could if I tried?" 
 
 Just then the fiddle started up a waltz. 
 I grabbed Mary Jane. 
 
 "Come!" says I. "Now's your chance," 
 and we was soon flyin' round to the music. 
 She was a born dancer. In two whirls 
 she caught the step an' was right with me. 
 Did she like it? Well, I never saw a 
 happier girl, and I danced every remainin' 
 dance with her, lettin' Will Tinker get all 
 the glory he wanted callin' off. 
 
 We started for home at two in the 
 mornin'. The weather had changed in 
 the night, and a sharp wind was blowin', 
 bringin' with it a fine sleet that stung the 
 face like needle pricks. We stood it for 
 a mile or so, but I see it was punishin' 
 Mary Jane terrible, so I set the seat back 
 three feet or so, and told her to sit 
 down in the nice dry straw an' lean against 
 the seat. Then I tied the reins 'round 
 the dashboard, knowin' the horses would 
 40
 
 THE SCHOOLMARM 
 
 go home all right, and sittin' down by 
 the schoolmarm, pulled the buffalo robe 
 over our heads, and there we was, com 
 fortable as could be, holdin' hands like the 
 two babes in the woods. 
 
 Then a peculiar thing happened. I 
 heard the bell of a far-away Church ringin'; 
 then a voice callin' to me from a high hill 
 just the murmur of a voice then a slow 
 poundin' a dull, thumpin' sound ; then 
 the voice from the hill comin' nearer an' 
 nearer, growin' louder an' louder, till I 
 felt my blood rushin' into my head and 
 my ears fairly deafened with the noise. 
 The voice was now directly over me. I 
 opened my eyes. The buffalo robe was 
 held aloft and I heard father say, 
 " Well, if this don't beat all !" 
 I looked about me. The bob-sleigh 
 with the horses still hitched to it was in 
 the drive-house at home, and father was 
 standin' by the side with one corner of the 
 buffalo robe in his hand. It was broad day 
 light. I looked for Mary Jane. There
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 she sat in the straw, her head against the 
 cushion of the seat, sound asleep, but still 
 hangin' tight to my left hand. 
 
 " Now, sir," says father with a grin, 
 "what does this mean ? " 
 
 It was enough to make even him smile. 
 Me an' Mary Jane had gone to sleep the 
 minute almost we sat down in the straw, 
 for neither of us could remember a thing, 
 and the horses brought us home, goin' 
 into the drive-house, the doors of which 
 had luckily been left open. Father comin' 
 out in the mornin' found the bob-sleigh 
 there, and liftin' the robe discovered the 
 two of us. 
 
 Say ! Mary Jane wouldn't look at me 
 out of the corner of her eye for the next 
 fortnight.
 
 The Colt with the Tough 
 Mouth 
 
 If there's one thing in life which I've 
 enjoyed more than any other, it's been 
 the drivin' of fiery horses. I've never yet 
 met the horse which proved itself my 
 master, and to-day, old as I am, I'd try a 
 fall with the ugliest horse you could pro 
 duce. I've been run away with time an' 
 time again, but the most damage I ever 
 see done in a runaway was caused by a 
 three-year-old colt, behind which me an' 
 Tish Brown went to meetin' at Milton 
 one Sunday evenin' in winter, years an' 
 years ago, when I was still a young feller 
 on the old farm. 
 
 I traded for this colt (he was a big black, 
 with three white feet an' a star between 
 his eyes) with a Gipsy who came along our 
 
 43
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 way. I was always tradin' horses, and as I 
 never got the worse of the bargain, father 
 became used to it after awhile, and never 
 went into the stable positive that he'd find 
 there the same lot of horses he'd last seen. 
 
 I gave the Gipsy a bay mare and five 
 bags of oats for the black colt, and I 
 thought I'd made my fortune, for a hand 
 somer colt you never rubbed your hands 
 over. He went well, single or double, 
 and would walk ahead of a plough like 
 the grand marshal of a 'lection parade. 
 He only had two faults, he'd run away 
 at the drop of the hat, and his mouth was 
 that hard that ten men couldn't hold him 
 in when he stretched out his neck and 
 decided to take charge of the subsequent 
 proceedin's. 
 
 But I liked that horse for the very 
 pride of him an' the devil in his eyes. I soon 
 discovered that he was just as gentle as a 
 lamb as long as his neck kept well curved 
 an' he felt the reins was in strong hands ; 
 but if he ever got a chance to straighten 
 
 44
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 out his neck he wouldn't do a thing but 
 look about for something to happen which 
 would give him a fair excuse to go up in 
 the air. An ordinary double wire bit was 
 of no earthly use on that colt, so I got for 
 him a curb bit with a camel's hump in the 
 middle, that, properly applied, would make 
 him set down in the road and ask for 
 mercy. 
 
 Father swore the colt would be the 
 death of me, and he positively forbid Ed 
 to draw a rein on him, and Ed wasn't any 
 too anxious, 'specially as just then he was 
 courtin' a girl from the next concession 
 the same girl I told you he took to the 
 Church of England sociable, and the 
 courtin' was in such an advanced con 
 dition that he could only spare one hand 
 for drivin', and old Darby was good 
 enough for him. 
 
 But there was one person besides me 
 who wasn't afraid to ride behind the black 
 colt, and that was Tish Brown. Tish was 
 'fraid of nothin', and she fell in love with 
 
 45
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 the colt at first sight. I let her drive him 
 once before I got the curb bit, and do you 
 know, she couldn't bend her elbows for 
 nigh a week, but she held him in, all the 
 same. 
 
 The curb bit, however, done the busi 
 ness, and there wasn't a peaceabler horse 
 from that time on in the neighborhood. 
 When I'd hitch him up and trip the curb 
 into his mouth, he'd look at me humble 
 like, just as much as to say, " Now, 
 George, for the love of Heaven, do have 
 a care how hard you yank on the lines." 
 
 That winter they was holdin' protracted 
 meetin's down to Milton, and it was con 
 sidered quite the proper thing to drive 
 your best girl there at least Sunday night. 
 Me an' Tish wasn't any too partic'lar 
 about goin', but the old folks insisted on 
 our representin' the family, and the old 
 man's word was law, 'specially when I was 
 feedin' my horse on his oats a couple of 
 nights each week. 
 
 Me an' Ed both havin' a girl, it natur- 
 46
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 ally left Jane out in the cold, for father 
 considered she was too young to have a 
 beau, much to her sorrow, as there was 
 two or three of the neighbors' boys peekin' 
 through the pickets at her ; for Jane, if I 
 do say it, was by long odds the prettiest 
 girl in the neighborhood, her cheeks gom' 
 pink an' white at a word ; and her eyes 
 well, her husband ain't got over lovin' her 
 to this day. 
 
 Jane consequently was eternally naggin' 
 at me an' Ed to take her out with us once 
 an' a while, but we couldn't quite see it 
 her way just then. She'd never seen Ed's 
 girl, but she knew Tish an' hated her from 
 the first, though there was absolutely no 
 sense in her doin' so. But hate her she 
 did, and she was eternally wishin' the 
 black colt would spill her out some time 
 to her undoin'. Jane was a little Tartar, 
 I tell you, an' mighty nigh she come to 
 havin' her wish, as I'm goin' to tell you. 
 
 Well, this Sunday I hitched up the 
 black colt to the cutter an' drove over to 
 
 47
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Tish's for supper. After the meal we 
 drove down to Milton as usual an' put 
 the colt in the shed. 
 
 The whole neighborhood was out that 
 night, for a preacher from the city was to 
 lead the meetin,' and it was looked upon 
 as a grand round-up of fractious sinners, 
 and of course everybody was anxious to 
 see who the city preacher would corral. 
 
 I don't remember much about the meet- 
 in'. Me an' Tish was in our favorite seat 
 just behind the choir, and we usually found 
 enough to interest us in the gossipin' back 
 and forth of the young people about us, 
 without botherin' about the sermon, for we 
 was in about everything in them days. 
 
 When meetin' was out we chatted at 
 the Church door awhile, and then I drove 
 round the horse, got Tish in an' started for 
 home. I noticed something was wrong the 
 minute we shot out the gate, for the black 
 colt give his old defiant snort an' began 
 lookin' about for something to scare him. 
 
 "Hi ! there, my boy ! " I cried to him, 
 
 48
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 and he settled down into a good smart 
 trot. I never pulled him very hard now, 
 for I knew the power of that curb bit. 
 
 When we turned Granger's Corners we 
 had a straight way before us for about two 
 miles, and it was my custom to let the 
 black colt show his oats on this stretch. 
 However, the snow was deep on both 
 sides of the road, there bein' only one 
 track; and while we'd dallied at the 
 Church door the old folks had got started, 
 and the road was well dotted with rigs 
 ahead of us, so I judged it best to go 
 cautious. 
 
 Right in front of us old Zenas Furrs 
 was humpin' along through the pitch-holes 
 in an aggravatin' way, so I turned out to 
 pass him. Our cutter ripped through the 
 snow as we went by, and just as we got 
 into the track again a partridge rose out 
 of the snow and whizzed into the woods. 
 That was enough for the black colt. He 
 gave one wild snort an' straightened out 
 for a run. 
 
 49
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Hang on to him, George ! " Tish 
 cried. 
 
 " You bet your life ! " I replied between 
 my teeth, takin' in the slack of the reins 
 an' leanin' forward for a steady pull. 
 
 I pulled, but the curb bit had lost its 
 terrors for the black colt. It just shot 
 out into the air like an express engine, and 
 before I knew it rip ! rip ! crash ! We 
 had passed a cutter an' cut off its rail as 
 slick as if we'd been a circular saw, and 
 was poundin' madly ahead through the 
 pitch-holes. 
 
 Tish let out one wild laugh, and, as her 
 hat went back from her head, hangin' to 
 her neck by the strings, she grabbed hold 
 of the lines with me, and we put our com 
 bined weight on the bit. But it had no 
 effect whatever. 
 
 Lord ! how we did get over the snow ! 
 Talk about your runnin' horses ! That 
 black colt did record work that night, 
 and every few hundred yards or so we 
 cut into the side of somebody's cutter 
 
 50
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 and tossed its occupants into the snow. 
 The blame colt would turn out to go by 
 just so we'd slice somethin' from every 
 rig we passed. 
 
 Me an' Tish was now yellin' like wild 
 Injuns to warn the people ahead, and they 
 turned out into the snow banks the best 
 they could to let us past. 
 
 But it worried me terrible because that 
 bit had no effect. I gritted my teeth an' 
 gave the colt the reins, hopin' he'd take 
 his jaws from the bit, for I suspected he'd 
 in some impossible manner got it between 
 his teeth. Then I began to saw an' yank, 
 but the colt went ahead. We went round 
 the last corner into the home stretch fairly 
 in the air, for if the cutter had been 
 touchin', it couldn't possibly have helped 
 slattin' us over the road fence. 
 
 I turned an' looked at Tish. Her eyes 
 was out on her cheeks an' she was coiled 
 up ready for a header into the snow with 
 out notice. 
 
 " Look out for the gate post, George, 
 
 5 1
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 when we turn in home! " she cried, and I 
 did, but that colt was runnin' away in a 
 mighty sane-headed way, for he curved 
 out for the gate an' made as pretty a turn 
 as ever you see. 
 
 I seen a face at the parlor window as 
 we flew by. It was Jane's. The colt 
 hauled up with a jerk, that nearly sent us 
 over the dashboard, directly before the 
 drive-house door an' stood there, pantin', 
 of course, but entirely rational. 
 
 "Is that you, George?" came Jane's 
 voice from the kitchen door. 
 
 " I s'pose so," I says, " but I aint half 
 sure." 
 
 " You'd ought to be careful an' not turn 
 into the gate so fast ! " Jane cried. 
 
 " Oh, don't worry about me," I called 
 back. " I know how to drive," and I 
 nudged Tish. 
 
 I now crept carefully from the cutter 
 an' felt along the rail for damages, for I'd 
 about as soon have broken my neck as 
 damaged that cutter, it bein' a new one 
 
 52
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 that father had traded for, the precedin' 
 winter. It was dark in the shadow of 
 the drive-house, and I couldn't very well 
 see, but I satisfied myself that while 
 there might be scratches, there was no 
 broken pieces, and I whispered the news 
 to Tish. 
 
 Then I went to the black colt's head, 
 speakin' softly to him, for I wasn't sure 
 that he wouldn't take a notion to go for a 
 flyin' trip up through the orchard. 
 
 He rubbed his nose against me an' 
 seemed to be in no way worried by the 
 memory of past events. I felt for the 
 curb bit. It was in his mouth all right, 
 and he chawed on it contentedly. 
 
 "Well, I'll be darned!" I said. 
 
 " What's the matter, George ? " Tish 
 whispered hoarsely. 
 
 " The bit's in his mouth all right," 
 says I. 
 
 " Then what have we been pullin' on ? " 
 says Tish. 
 
 I felt for the lines an' found 'em 
 
 53
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 buckled to the head-stall ! We'd been 
 pullin' on the black colt's head an' not on 
 his mouth, for some darn cuss had un 
 buckled the lines from the bit an' fastened 
 'em to the head-stall. 
 
 " It's a put-up job ! " I whispered to 
 Tish, "and we've ripped up every other 
 cutter in the neighborhood ! " 
 
 I fastened the lines to the bit again, got 
 back into the cutter an' turned round, the 
 black colt movin' like a lamb, now that 
 he felt the curb. 
 
 "Where are you goin' now?" called 
 Jane, who was still standin' in the kitchen 
 door. 
 
 " Just takin' Tish home," I called back. 
 " I come away without my horse-blanket, 
 and so I run in here after it." 
 
 When I'd dropped Tish at her front 
 gate I didn't wait for an hour's sparkin' 
 by the sittin'-room stove as usual, but 
 made tracks for home, anxious to hear 
 what Ed an' father knew about the wrecks 
 along the way from meetin'. 
 
 54
 
 COLT WITH TOUGH MOUTH 
 
 There was excitement enough, I assure 
 you, and would you believe it, father an' 
 mother, in the market sleigh, was one of 
 the rigs we passed. All they had lost, 
 however, was a piece of the rail. 
 
 " Where was you when all this was 
 happenin' ? " father says to me. 
 
 " Oh, we must have been ahead of you 
 all," I replied, matter-of-fact. " I jogged 
 along here so's to get my horse-blanket, 
 but I didn't need it after all." 
 
 " Who do you think it was ? " says 
 Jane, quite eager. 
 
 " I couldn't just swear to who it was," 
 says father. "The feller had either a 
 black or a white horse, I ain't sure which ; 
 I think it was a white. But it wasn't any 
 of our neighbor boys, for both him an' 
 the hussy with him was drunk as fools an' 
 yellin' like fiends. I never see a more 
 disgraceful affair, all of a Sunday evenin', 
 too." 
 
 That runaway was the talk of the whole 
 section that winter. Over ten cutters was 
 
 55
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 more or less wrecked, and the voice of 
 wailm' was loud in the land. 
 
 I was never suspected for a moment, 
 though Jane did watch me pretty close 
 for awhile, but even she lost suspicion in 
 time, for who ever heard of turnin' round 
 a runaway horse and drivin' him off as 
 gentle as a lamb ? 
 
 The commonly-accepted version of the 
 affair was that some drunken feller an' his 
 girl was the occupants of the runaway rig, 
 and as Tish knew how to keep a secret, the 
 truth never leaked out. But Jane's hus 
 band years afterwards confessed to tyin' the 
 black colt's reins in to the head-stall, Jane 
 havin' put him up to it in hopes that me 
 an' Tish would get a good tossin' into the 
 snow! 
 
 I tell you, none of us stopped to think 
 of consequences in them days.
 
 Scarin' the Duke 
 
 Long 'bout the time of the Fenian Raid 
 the children round our way became so 
 timid on account of the terrible stories 
 told about that awful monster, the Wild 
 Irishman, that they was afraid to go to bed 
 without a candle, and the excitement so 
 worked on their nerves that at the least 
 sudden surprise they'd spring up an' hol 
 ler as if by instinct. Even big boys like 
 me an' Ed was at that time would tread 
 very gingerly when passin' along the road 
 by the big woods, for the most alarmin' 
 rumors was afloat, and we didn't know 
 what minute the Wild Irishman would 
 spring out upon us, for he was a mighty 
 real phantom to us, I tell you. 
 
 Why, not fifteen miles from our home 
 the soldiers found about fifty rifles in a 
 
 57
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 load of hay which an Irish farmer was 
 pretendin' to take to market, and in con 
 sequence we come to believe that every 
 Irishman in the country was in league 
 with the bloody cut-throats from across 
 the Line, who was threatenin' invasion of 
 our quiet country. 
 
 But to get back to my story : Me an' 
 Ed was both credulous youngsters, and 
 old Abe Amey used to tell us such har- 
 rowin' tales, that we was on the raw edge 
 of a panic half the time. 
 
 I remember we was goin back after the 
 cows one evenin', and it required all our 
 nerve to go over the crossway in the 
 dusk, I swanny ! The crossway was a 
 road through a swamp from the front 
 pasture to the burnt lands. It was origi 
 nally a log road, but the logs had sunk 
 into the mud, and father had it filled in 
 with gravel, the stones bein' very hard an' 
 sharp. 
 
 When goin' over this crossway, me an' 
 Ed (we always went barefoot them days) 
 
 58
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 would pick our way over the log ends to 
 avoid the stones, and we was always happy 
 when we discovered the cows in the front 
 pasture, for the swamp was a place of ter 
 ror to be passed an' the burnt lands was 
 even worse. 
 
 If you never was a boy an' never went 
 after the cows of a cloudy evenin', and 
 never see witches an' ghosts an' murderers 
 pokin' their ugly heads round the corners, 
 or through the middle of black, twisted, 
 pine stumps, you don't know the rudi 
 ments of the sensation called bein' scart 
 to death ! Me an' Ed would start out 
 bold enough, for Jane would generally go 
 with us to the little hill above the orchard, 
 at the end of the lane, and then, after 
 makin' us promise not to move for five 
 minutes, turn back an' streak it for home 
 as fast as her legs could carry her. Nothin' 
 on earth could have tempted her to go 
 further than the end of the lane, and she 
 thought me an' Ed was heroes of a won 
 derful sort. 
 
 59
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 After the last flicker of Jane's white 
 feet as she turned into the gate near the 
 drive-house, us boys would start back with 
 faces bold as brass, but with hearts fairly 
 turnin' sick with fear. We knew we had 
 to go back after them cows, and while we 
 fully believed that one night or another 
 the Wild Irishman would certainly get us 
 an' eat us alive, just as Abe Amey told 
 us, yet we daren't own up to father an' 
 ourselves that we was cowards. So we 
 fairly pushed ourselves back toward the 
 swamp an' its horrors. 
 
 Now an' then an owl would send out a 
 shrill hoot, and me an' Ed would shiver 
 all over an' then look sheepishly at each 
 other, quick like, to see if the other had 
 noticed the jump. I always thought that 
 Ed was a perfect hero, and I knew myself 
 to be a sneakin' coward, and I guess Ed 
 had similar ideas in regard to him an' me, 
 only in his case I was the hero an' he the 
 coward. 
 
 Anyway, we got along to the crossway 
 60
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 all right, and passed over it with no 
 more'n half a dozen frights. The cows 
 was in the far corner of the burnt lands, 
 as we knew from the bells. So we had 
 to pass the whole array of monster stumps ! 
 
 We thought it no shame now to hold 
 hands an' go on tiptoe, lookin' straight 
 ahead an' sideways at the same time. 
 
 There was one twisted stump which 
 had scart us many a time. In the twilight 
 it always looked as if a man's head an' right 
 shoulder was pushed cautiously out from 
 one side. The man had thick hair, a full 
 beard and ferocious eyes. Many's the 
 time we'd stood spellbound lookin' at this 
 bug-a-boo, and even after lookin' the 
 stump over by daylight, it was impossible 
 for us to pass it boldly. This evenin' we 
 hauled up before it with a jerk. 
 
 " It's a sure enough man this time ! " 
 Ed whispered, and I could feel him 
 tremblin' all over. 
 
 I confess I was actually too scart to open 
 my mouth. The head an' shoulders was 
 61
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 there the same as usual, but the eyes was 
 brighter, and do you believe it, I could 
 plainly see the man's right hand clutchin' 
 an axe! I could hardly believe my eyes, 
 but there could be no mistake. There 
 was the handle plain as day, and the glit- 
 terin' axe poised ready to strike. 
 
 I looked at Ed an' he at me. Our 
 faces was thin an' pale. We just stood 
 there an' quaked for about two minutes, 
 and then with a yell turned an' lit out for 
 home. You never see such runnin' in all 
 your life. We went over logs three feet 
 high as if they was nothin'. We bounded 
 as if on springs. We literally flew. Just 
 before we come to the crossway, Ed 
 turned his head an' looked over his 
 shoulder. He let out a yell that would 
 scare the dead, and shrieked : 
 " George, look what's comin' ! " 
 I looked, and at the same moment 
 jumped fully ten feet forward. Not fifty 
 feet behind come boundin' along asnakey- 
 lookin' thing with a big black head, that 
 62
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 every other moment leaped into the air. 
 
 We didn't pick our way over the cross- 
 way. Right through the middle of it 
 we went, and our bare feet never felt the 
 sharp stones, for we couldn't turn our 
 heads now without seein' that reptile be 
 hind us. But it didn't seem to gain, and 
 when we struck the new pasture, I dared 
 to say to Ed : 
 
 We're gainin' on it, don't you think ? " 
 
 We certainly was gainin' on it, for its 
 head grew smaller an' smaller, and when 
 we got to the lane we found it had en 
 tirely disappeared. Then we slowed down 
 to get our breath, and when we'd come to 
 a stop, Ed felt somethin' draggin' from 
 his pocket, and found it was a piece of 
 yarn. 
 
 Have you guessed what it was ? Yes, 
 that's right. The boundin' snake was 
 just Ed's yarn ball that had worked from 
 his pocket an' unravelled as he ran, the 
 ball bouncin' along for all the world like 
 a snake. 
 
 63
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 We didn't feel half so sheepish over this 
 as you might think, for we was not out 
 of our troubles yet. The yarn ball had 
 looked like a snake, and we'd been fooled, 
 but, by gravy ! the man with the axe was 
 no joke ! We could swear to the axe. 
 Nothin' on earth but an axe could that 
 be what we'd seen. We was just as cer 
 tain that the Wild Irishman was behind 
 the stump as that we was two scart boys ; 
 and we knew, too, that the cows was in 
 the burnt fields an' that it was milkin' 
 time. What was we to do ! 
 
 " Ed," says I, "we've got to get them 
 cows." 
 
 " I just can't go back there again," says 
 Ed. " I ain't goin' to be killed by the 
 Wild Irishman if I never see the cows ! " 
 he says. 
 
 " But father'll whale us if we go home 
 without 'em," I says. 
 
 Ed hesitated. The one thing he was 
 mortally sure of was that whalin'. The 
 Irishman might or might not kill him, 
 
 64
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 but he knew positive that bein' scared 
 wouldn't weigh a feather with father, and 
 that a lickin' was sure. 
 
 " We'll have to go back," he said, and 
 shivered. 
 
 Then I began to hedge. " S'pose we 
 say we couldn't find 'em ? " I says. 
 
 " It's no use," says Ed. " He'll know 
 better." 
 
 We turned an' retraced our steps. 
 
 Now, I've never been much of a hero 
 in my own eyes. I never felt I could do 
 my family justice if called out for a sol 
 dier ; but do you know, I've always felt 
 proud of myself an' Ed for goin' back that 
 night. 
 
 It was fairly dark when we got to the 
 crossway, and our jaws was tight shut. 
 We didn't tremble now ; we was feelin' 
 numb. I didn't know whether I was 
 walkin' on stones or moss. Night-hawks 
 was whirlin' an' shriekin' overhead, and 
 the swamp seemed alive with owls ; but 
 on we went, holdin' hands an' grittin' our 
 
 65
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 teeth. Presently we heard the cow bells. 
 We stopped to listen. Yes, sure enough, 
 the cows was comin' towards us. We stood 
 like two statues, drawn up rigid, our ears 
 open. Soon old Limeback, the leader, 
 swung into view, and trailin' after her was 
 the rest of the herd. Seein' us, Limeback 
 stopped, curved her neck an' looked at us, 
 and then with a toss of her head as much 
 as to say, " Why, it's them boys," moved 
 on. 
 
 Father met us at the head of the lane. 
 
 " What kept you so long ? " he asked, 
 sharply. 
 
 I squeezed Ed's hand an' Ed squeezed 
 back. 
 
 " The cows was hard to find, sir," I 
 said. 
 
 Two-thirds of all the lies I've told in 
 my life I told to father. 
 
 But this ain't what I set out to tell you 
 at all. I wanted to tell you not how me 
 an' Ed was scared, but how we scart the 
 Duke. 
 
 66
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 The Duke was a neighbor boy whose 
 right name was Wellington Benn. Jane 
 nicknamed him the Duke because he was 
 so utterly unlike his famous namesake. 
 The Duke was a real bona fide coward, 
 one of the snivelling cryin' kind, and a 
 boy only half as big could bluff" him off 
 the playground. He wouldn't fight, but 
 he'd talk back as long as he dared, and a 
 mighty mean tongue he had. We all 
 hated him, but Jane worst of all, and do 
 you know, he was real fond of Jane. 
 
 Well, one winter night in them Fenian 
 times I've been tellin' you about, me an' 
 Ed went down to get scart by old Abe 
 Amey. Why we went I don't know, 
 'cept it was fascination, for Abe was a 
 natural-born story teller, an' he knew all 
 the news about the Fenians where an' 
 when they would land, and he had every 
 man, woman an' child in Canada burnt 
 at the stake before our eyes. 
 
 Why, one night he was yarnin' this 
 way to a lot of us, and his stories was so 
 
 67
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 blood curdlin' that he got excited himself, 
 and takin' down a long musket he had 
 hangin' on the wall, he said, his eyes 
 flashin' : 
 
 " Jest let a Fenian step his foot through 
 my gate an' I'll spile his pictur' fer him, 
 by Jerooshy ! " 
 
 Just then, as luck would have it, we 
 heard a stealthy step goin' round the cor 
 ner of the house. Abe leaped to the door, 
 hauled off an' let fire, kerbang ! We heard 
 somethin' give a grunt, and drop. It was 
 Abe's pet Jersey cow ! He set right down 
 an' cried over it, but he didn't let up on 
 his stories on account of it. 
 
 Well, this night Abe filled me an' Ed 
 up with all we wanted, and we started to 
 walk home. It was a bright winter's night 
 an' we wasn't much afraid, for there was 
 no woods near. 
 
 Ed wore a big buffalo overcoat that 
 
 father had. It was twice too big for him, 
 
 but he liked to wear it, kinder to show 
 
 off, I guess. The collar went up over 
 
 68
 
 SCARIN' THE DUKE 
 
 his head an* the sleeves came over his 
 hands. 
 
 As we trudged along we heard some 
 one comin' down the road. You can hear 
 approachin' footsteps a long ways on the 
 frozen snow. This might be the Wild 
 Irishman, or more likely only a neighbor, 
 but we was takin' no chances them days, 
 and we crawled over the fence and hid 
 behind it to let the stranger pass. Nearer 
 an' nearer the figure come, an' we soon see 
 it was no Fenian, but only the Duke. 
 
 Quick as a flash it occurred to me that 
 here was a fine opportunity to scare the 
 Duke half to death, and I whispered my 
 plan to Ed. 
 
 He saw it at once, and just as the Duke 
 got opposite us I made a growl as deep 
 as I could an' Ed went over the fence on 
 all fours just like a bear. And say ! do 
 you know, he looked so darn savage in 
 that big buffalo coat, springin' up from 
 the snow, that I never blamed the Duke 
 for bein' scart. 
 
 69
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Was the Duke scart? Scart ain't no 
 name for it. He let out one yell an' 
 went down in the road in a heap as Ed 
 sprang at him. He was kickin' in a fit 
 when I reached him, and I'm blamed if 
 the feller recovered consciousness for two 
 days. 
 
 We lugged him as far as our place an' 
 then father drove him home. 
 
 " I never see anything like it," says Ed 
 to Jane as earnest as a judge, " I never 
 see anything like it. Me an' George was 
 comin' along whistlin' as natural as could 
 be, when we hears a yell in front of us an' 
 the Duke goes into a fit. I wonder what 
 could have ailed him ! " 
 
 "P'raps he saw his shadder ! " says Jane, 
 dryly. " The Duke ain't no hero." 
 
 " May be," says Ed, " but I never see 
 the like of it."
 
 The Remarkable Taste of 
 Ebenezer Brown 
 
 A man makes a mistake when he con 
 vinces himself that he's so expert in certain 
 things that he can't make a mistake. I 
 used to think, for instance, that the man 
 didn't live that could beat me tradin' 
 horses. I honestly believed that I knowed 
 every ailin* that a horse was subject to, 
 and that in a two-mile drive I could tell 
 what a horse was good for as well as if I'd 
 raised that horse from a colt. But it cost 
 me a hundred-dollar colt an' twenty dollars 
 to boot to discover that a wind-broken, 
 worthless horse'll travel for ten miles at a 
 round trot, with his head in the air, on a pint 
 of shot judiciously administered. Why, I've 
 seen but that's neither here nor there. 
 
 Ebenezer Brown's pride was his sense
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 of taste. Ebenezer was not a bettin' man, 
 he bein' a steward in the Church ; but if 
 he'd been a bettin' man, he'd have wagered 
 his farm any time that he could tell the 
 various ingredients in a spoonful of honey 
 just by puttin' it to his lips. He'd been 
 born an' brought up with bees, and he 
 knew their habits like a book. 
 
 But it was his boast that you could 
 blindfold him an' place him where you 
 would, and he could tell just how much 
 clover, wild blossoms, flowers an' buck 
 wheat was in any sample of honey that 
 might be presented to him. He despised 
 buckwheat honey ; wouldn't have an acre 
 of buckwheat on his farm, and considered 
 it an unfriendly act if any of his neigh 
 bors sowed buckwheat within travellin' 
 distance of his bees. 
 
 Spring blossom an' clover honey was 
 the only kind he wanted, and he was 
 mighty particular to harvest his honey 
 each year before buckwheat was in bloom, 
 so that if by chance his bees showed such 
 72
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 bad taste as to gather any of the brown 
 buckwheat nectar, they could eat it them 
 selves durin' the winter an' not force it on 
 him. 
 
 He certainly had a remarkable taste, 
 but as I said before, we all come to the 
 time when we're brought face to face with 
 the fact that we're not above mistakes, and 
 me an' Ed was the means of takin' Eben- 
 ezer down a peg in his own estimation, 
 though I've always wished we hadn't done 
 it, for the old man never seemed as light- 
 hearted afterwards. 
 
 It was this way : When Ebenezer's 
 daughter Mary Jane finished her year of 
 school teachin' in our section, her father 
 'lowed that the amount of her salary was 
 not sufficient to overbalance his worryin' 
 about her bein' led into temptation, so he 
 took her back home. 
 
 Ed hadn't said much to Mary Jane 
 when she was under his nose, but as soon 
 as she'd retired to private life an' Eben- 
 ezer loomed up as a dragon, keepin' her 
 
 73
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 in confinement, Ed took a notion that 
 Mary Jane was a very desirable girl to be 
 sociable with, and he forthwith began to 
 pay her all the attention circumstances 
 permitted of. 
 
 This suited Mary Jane down to the 
 ground, for she thought Ed was about 
 right, and his fiddle playin' completely 
 charmed her. But the dragon, Ebenezer, 
 was a stickler. He forbid Mary Jane 
 havin' beaux. He wanted no young men 
 foolin' 'round his daughter, no, siree ; 
 and he wouldn't have it. 
 
 Ed didn't mind this in the least, for he 
 liked excitement, and he stood in solid 
 with mother Brown. She thought the 
 sun rose an' set in Ed, for when he laid 
 himself out you could fairly see the wings 
 tryin' to break through his coat. So when 
 Ebenezer wasn't home, Ed was there, and 
 many's the time he's sparked with Mary 
 Jane in the parlor when Ebenezer was 
 sleepin' the sleep of the just, and Mrs. 
 Brown beside him on guard. 
 
 74
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 Tish Brown, who was Mary Jane's 
 cousin, as I've told you, aided an' abetted 
 all this. Me an' Tish was thick as we 
 could be without bein' actually engaged. 
 Tish was a likely girl, I tell you. I've 
 never seen her equal, and she might have 
 been my wife to-day but for the meanest 
 trick I ever heard of bein' played on a 
 couple. It's really worth tellin'. 
 
 One night in summer me an' Tish was 
 drivin' home from meetin' in a new piano- 
 box buggy I'd just bought, and it bein' a 
 quiet, balmy kind of evenin' we let the 
 horse go his own gait, and got to passin* 
 back an' forth some pretty sweet remarks. 
 I told Tish how much I thought of her, 
 and she wasn't at all backward in ownin' 
 up that she thought I was about as near 
 the specification as a feller needed to be. 
 I said to Tish frankly that I believed she 
 was the prettiest girl in the two conces 
 sions, and she owned that since I'd got a 
 mustache there wasn't a feller anywhere's 
 around as could hold a candle to me. I 
 
 75
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 allowed that, not exceptin' Jane, who Tish 
 knew was a truly remarkable cook, she 
 was the star artist in gettin' up a tasty 
 meal, and Tish allowed that her father 
 had said that I knew more about scientific 
 farmin' than any other young man in the 
 county. 
 
 We run on this way, gettin' pretty 
 spooney, as you may guess, but we reached 
 her home before I'd nerved myself up to 
 the poppin' point. 
 
 Along the middle of the followin' week 
 I met a feller by the name of Reub Tomp- 
 kins down at Milton. Me an' Reub was 
 old friends and had always known each 
 other. Somehow or other he turned the 
 conversation on to Tish Brown. 
 
 " I was up to Tish's last evenin'," he 
 says. 
 
 " How was they all ? " I says. 
 
 "Good first-rate," he says," and then 
 he laughs. 
 
 "What are you grinnin' at?" says I. 
 
 " Oh, nothin'," he says, and then he 
 
 76
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 says, slappin' me on the back : " George," 
 he says, " I don't know but what you're 
 pretty near all right. Since you growed 
 your mustache, George," he says, " there 
 ain't a feller anywhere's around as can 
 hold a candle to you ! " 
 
 " What's this you're givin' me ? " I 
 says, feelin' pretty foolish. 
 
 " George," he says with a grin, " I've 
 heard father say you knowed more about 
 scientific farmin' than any other young 
 man in the county ! " 
 
 The blood rushed to my face in a flame, 
 and with a pretty strong word I turned on 
 my heel an' walked away. 
 
 "To think," says I to myself, my 
 blood boilin', " that Tish 'ud go to work 
 an' tell every word I said to her to Reub 
 Tompkins ! " 
 
 I don't believe I was ever madder in 
 my life. All the love I ever had for the 
 girl turned to hate in me, and I could have 
 stamped her under my feet for makin' me 
 the laughin' stock of the two concessions. 
 
 77
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 I'd never heard of a girl playin' a feller as 
 dirty a trick as that. What a girl an' her 
 beau say to one another is sacred; always 
 was an' always will be ; but here was Tish, 
 my brave old Tish my handsome Tish 
 who I'd knowed from a baby an' who 
 always seemed to like me goin* an' givin' 
 me dead away to Reub Tompkins, a feller 
 she barely knew ! 
 
 " That settles Tish Brown for me ! " 
 says I, and I never went near her for a 
 month. Then I met her at a strawberry 
 festival. I thought she'd be after me for 
 an explanation, and then I could tell her 
 what I thought of her ; but no, sir ! She 
 passed me by with her head in the air like 
 a queen, and I never spoke to her again 
 for nigh on twenty years. 
 
 I'd lost most of my hair an' was a 
 mighty different-lookin' feller than I once 
 was when I run across her, but she knew 
 me. I own I had no idea who the pale- 
 lookin' woman was who grabbed me by 
 the arm an' said : 
 
 78
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 " George, don't you know me ? " 
 
 I looked hard, and then it come on me 
 who it was. 
 
 "Tish ! " I cried, and my heart was in 
 my throat. 
 
 " Yes, it's me ! " she said. " Old an' 
 homely an' broken down as you see me, 
 but the same old Tish at heart." 
 
 We went into the City Hotel parlor 
 an' sat down to talk it over. The first 
 words she said was, 
 
 " George, it was all a mistake ! " 
 
 I knew what she meant. 
 
 " I might have knowed it," I said. 
 " But," said I, "how the mischief, Tish, 
 did Reub Tompkins know every word 
 that you said to me that night we drove 
 home from Milton, if you didn't tell 
 him?" 
 
 " I'll tell you, George," Tish replied, 
 with a sad, little smile, " if you'll tell me 
 how Reub Tompkins knew every word 
 that you said to me on the same occasion, 
 if you did'nt tell him." 
 
 79
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "Great Scott! Tish!" I cried, "you 
 don't mean to tell me after all these years 
 that Reub told you the same's he did 
 me?" 
 
 "I do!" said she, "and I know how 
 he come to do it! " 
 
 "Tell me ! " I asked. 
 
 Tish brushed a tear from her cheek an' 
 replied with the same feeble little smile 
 I see she was forcin' on herself, and 
 answered : 
 
 " We was so taken up with one another 
 that evenin'," she said, "that we didn't 
 notice Reub when we passed him on the 
 road, and we didn't feel the jar when he 
 jumped an' seated himself lightly in the 
 buggy box behind us ; and so he sat there 
 an' heard every word we said to each 
 other. He thought it a good joke to let 
 on to each of us that he knew what we 
 said, though he never told another livin' 
 soul. He never thought it would make 
 the trouble between us that it did, and 
 when he found out how angry we both 
 80
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 was he felt ashamed to own up, so he let 
 it drift on. But he told me about it for 
 the first time last year when I run across 
 him here in the city." 
 
 I didn't speak for a minute or so. Then 
 I said, slowly : 
 
 "It was a bad business for me an' you, 
 Tish." 
 
 "It might have been worse, George," 
 she said, " for we both fell on our feet in 
 the marriage line, I guess." 
 
 " I've got a good wife, Tish," I said. 
 " But we can't entirely forget the old 
 days." 
 
 " We must, George," she said, risin' to 
 her feet. " I just wanted you to know 
 that I wasn't the mean girl you thought 
 me all these years. So good-bye." 
 
 That's the romance of me an' Tish. 
 Ain't it a caution what little things turn 
 the courses of our lives ! 
 
 But to get back to my story when me 
 an' Tish was young an' foolish, and 
 thinkin' nothin' at all of the future : Tish 
 81
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 planned to have her cousin Mary Jane 
 over to her place a good deal, and it made 
 it very nice for me an' Ed to meet the 
 girls there. I haven't mentioned that 
 Tish had two sisters older than herself, 
 have I ? Well, she had, Martha an' 
 Minerva was their names and they both 
 had beaux. So you see, when we got to 
 gether at Tish's of a Sunday evenin' we 
 made quite a party. 
 
 The girls had a certain rule about enter- 
 tainin' their beaux. It was like this : 
 Martha bein' the oldest, had the parlor, 
 Minerva the sittin' room an' Tish the 
 kitchen. This, of course, when all the 
 fellers was on hand. 
 
 When Mary Jane was visitin' an' Ed 
 came, there was no place for them, so 
 they had to manoeuvre the best they knew 
 how, and Ed was no slouch at this, as 
 you'll presently see. 
 
 Well, one nice Sunday afternoon me 
 an' Ed, both with a rig of our own, drove 
 up to Tish's an' found Martha's feller, 
 82
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 Joe Perry, and Tom Clark, Minerva's 
 beau, already on the ground. But to 
 Ed's sorrow there was no Mary Jane, 
 although she'd promised to be on hand. 
 Neither Tish or her sisters knew why 
 Mary Jane hadn't come over, so it was 
 decided that everybody would hitch up 
 an' we'd all swoop down on Ebenezer as 
 a surprise. 
 
 This we did, and contrary to expecta 
 tion the dragon was in a very amiable 
 mood, and insisted on us all stayin' for 
 supper. He see we was all double but 
 Ed, and he turned to him with a sly 
 wink. 
 
 " It seems to me, Ed," he says, "as if 
 the other boys was gettin' ahead of you. 
 You don't seem to have a girl." 
 
 "That's the way it looks, Mr. Brown," 
 says Ed with a sober face. " The girls 
 don't cotton to me much, so I just come 
 along with George to keep him straight." 
 
 The old man chuckled. " Cheer up," 
 he says. " You may get one some day." 
 
 83
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " I hope so," says Ed, and he give Tom 
 Clark a wink that nearly sent that chap 
 into the haymow with convulsions. 
 
 " You don't know a girl about these 
 parts, Mr. Brown," Ed says, "who might 
 be had for the askin' ? " 
 
 Ebenezer scratched his head. " I can't 
 think of one just now," he says. " But 
 I'll keep my eyes open for you," he says. 
 
 "Do," says Ed, "and I'll be much 
 obliged. In the meantime I'll just amuse 
 myself watchin' these fellers," he says, 
 " and seein' how they get on." 
 
 The old man was now in excellent 
 temper, and nothin' would do but we 
 must go out an' see his bees. This we 
 did, walkin' in Injun file behind him to 
 the row of hives. As he passed each hive 
 he'd stop an' look at it attentively. 
 
 " Pretty near ripe," he'd say, " pretty 
 near ripe. Will be ready to pick soon 
 now." 
 
 But when he come to the second hive 
 from the end he went gingerly behind it 
 84
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 an' looked through the glass in the little 
 box, or cap, which set on top of the hive. 
 
 " Fine ! " he says. " Fine ! Ready to 
 pick to-morrow," he says. " Every drop 
 clover pure clover every drop. Not a 
 speck of buckwheat in that cap." 
 
 Bees didn't interest me particularly, so 
 I was glad when we turned towards the 
 house. The girls had taken off their 
 things an' was waitin' for us, Mary Jane 
 buzzin' about among 'em an' pretendin' 
 not to notice Ed or the rest of us. 
 
 Ebenezer stuck right to us. I never 
 see him so sociable, and wouldn't have 
 believed he could be so jolly. It seemed 
 to tickle him that Ed had drove up with 
 out a girl, and he says to Mary Jane : 
 
 "You must be nice to Ed, Mary Jane," 
 he says, " for you see he ain't got any 
 girl." 
 
 Mary Jane hung down her head an' 
 her father laughed. 
 
 " Bashful," says he. " Bashful as all 
 git out. Why, Mary Jane," he says, " Ed 
 
 85
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 won't bite you will you, Ed ? " says he. 
 
 " I don't know 'bout that ! " says Ed, 
 and he looked the meanin' of his words. 
 
 But Ebenezer kept on : 
 
 " Ed wants me to find him a girl," he 
 says, "and I've promised to do it. You 
 don't know of any one, do you?" 
 
 " There's Sarah Ann Stevens," says 
 Mary Jane with a lightnin' twinkle of her 
 eye at Ed. 
 
 The old man roared. 
 
 " Just the one ! " he cried ; "just the 
 one ! I'll look after it for you," he says 
 to Ed. " Me an' Mary Jane'll fix you 
 out all right." 
 
 An' so it run on, makin' lots of fun for 
 us all, for we knew that if Ebenezer 
 thought for a minute Ed had a notion of 
 puttin' up to Mary Jane he'd have ordered 
 him from the house. 
 
 We set around awhile after supper an' 
 
 then, two by two, we started to leave. I 
 
 missed Ed while I was hitchin' up, but 
 
 s'posed he was havin' a private word with 
 
 86
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 Mary Jane in her father's absence. I found 
 him standin' near my buggy when I come 
 from the house with Tish. Then we drove 
 away. Ed followed in a few minutes, an' 
 when we got to Tish's he was right be 
 hind us. 
 
 "It seems to me, George, as if you 
 must have driven over Uncle Ebenezer's 
 beehives," he called, as we went through 
 the gate. 
 
 "That's as true as I live ! " Tish cried. 
 " I've smelled honey all the way home ! " 
 
 Martha an' Joe an' Minerva an' Tom 
 both swore they smelt honey, too, so 
 nothin' would do but we must get a lan 
 tern and examine my buggy. 
 
 Settin' there in the back, what did we 
 find but a fine cap of honey ! 
 
 Of course everybody was surprised, but 
 no one could account for the honey till 
 Ed owned up that while we was hitchin' 
 up he'd lifted Ebenezer's pet cap of clover 
 honey that was already to pick to-morrow ! 
 
 The girls saw there was nothin' to do 
 
 8?
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 but make the best of the joke, so they 
 sneaked the honey into the house an' hid 
 it for a couple of weeks. After that time 
 they felt it safe to bring it forth from 
 hidin', and it was represented as bein' a 
 present from my father to Mrs. Brown in 
 return for her kindness to me an' Ed. 
 
 You can imagine how wild Ebenezer 
 was when he missed his honey, but he 
 never suspected us for a moment, layin' 
 the theft to some wretch or wretches un 
 known. Mary Jane told us afterwards 
 that he really mourned for that cap of 
 honey as for one dead an' refused to be 
 comforted. 
 
 But it seemed we couldn't use that 
 honey up. It hung on an' on until I'd 
 'bout forgotten it, until well in the fall, 
 when it burst in on us in the followin' 
 way : 
 
 It was Sunday, as usual. Everything 
 
 happened on a Sunday in them days. 
 
 Ebenezer an' Mrs. Brown, with Mary 
 
 Jane, had been invited to take dinner with 
 
 88
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 Tish's parents, it bein* Tish's father's 
 birthday. Me an' Ed an' Joe Perry an' 
 Tom Clark was on hand as usual, and the 
 big dinin'-room table had a crowd about 
 it when we all sat down. 
 
 After the blessin's, the talk went along 
 finely, and Ebenezer was particularly 
 happy in his remarks an' continued to 
 quiz Ed about his lack of a girl, though 
 if he'd had half an eye he could have seen 
 that 'Mary Jane an' Ed was dartin' love 
 at each other across the table. 
 
 Presently Tish's mother jumps up all 
 of a sudden an' crys : 
 
 " Why ! To think that here's Ebenezer 
 with us an' we haven't got a drop of honey 
 on the table ! Minerva," she says, " go 
 right down cellar an' bring up a plate of 
 that delicious clover honey George's father 
 sent to me." 
 
 Minerva went, tottering, and I felt 
 rather than heard a sigh go the rounds of 
 the table. We was certainly in for it now, 
 for Ebenezer, with his remarkable taste, 
 
 89
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 would instantly spot that honey as his 
 own ! 
 
 If I could have crawled under the table 
 an' got out I should certainly have gone, 
 but there was no escape, and Minerva 
 appeared with a generous plate of the 
 honey and, obedient to her mother's com 
 mand, set it directly before her Uncle 
 Ebenezer. 
 
 The old man perked his head with de 
 light. He was at his proudest moment 
 about to pass judgment on the product ot 
 a rival bee-keeper, and a no less dis 
 tinguished one than my father. 
 
 He dipped his knife into the honey an' 
 twisted a load on its point with practiced 
 skill, while we shivered an' held our 
 breath. 
 
 Then he sniffed the honey. He sniffed 
 again, and we noticed a pained expression 
 come into his face. Then he delicately 
 tasted the honey, runnin' his tongue slowly 
 between his lips. 
 
 I knew I was growin' deadly pale from 
 90
 
 TASTE OF EBENEZER BROWN 
 
 suppressed emotion. You could have 
 heard a pin drop until Mrs. Brown broke 
 the weird silence. 
 
 "Well, Ebenezer," she said, " how do 
 you like it? " 
 
 " George," said the old man, solemnly, 
 turnin' to me, "I'm s'prised at your 
 father such a careful man as he is, too 
 sendin' out such stuff as this under the 
 name of clover honey ! " Then he added, 
 with a horrified look in his eyes : " There's 
 positively buckwheat in it ! " 
 
 The shock was too great. I give one 
 look at Tish an' Ed. They was grittin' 
 their teeth to hold in. The absurdity of 
 the thing was too much. I snorted, and 
 that touched off the rest of the young 
 people an' the table shook with laughter. 
 
 Ebenezer looked pained. Then he 
 looked at the honey. Then a smile crept 
 into the corners of his mouth. He tasted 
 the honey carefully. 
 
 " It's my stolen cap ! " he said. 
 
 " But, sir," said I, with the tears run-
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 nin' from my eyes, "there's positively 
 buckwheat in it ! " 
 
 "George," said he, "we'll let it drop 
 where it is. But if you want to keep out 
 of jail, don't tell your father what I said, 
 that's all."
 
 When Me an' Ed Got 
 Religion 
 
 'Long about the time me an' Ed was 
 just gettin' on friendly relations with 
 our 'teens, a young Methodist preacher 
 just out from England got stationed on 
 the Milton circuit an' took the notion of 
 holdin' protracted meetin' in the little 
 red schoolhouse. These revival services 
 was a big event in the neighborhood 
 in them days an' be yet, I've no doubt. 
 You know, we never had much of public 
 amusement or excitement, and a winter 
 without a protracted meetin' was consid 
 ered dull. The young folks 'specially 
 enjoyed such a meetin', 'cause it was a 
 place to go to of a night, and what with 
 the queer things that happened an' the 
 funny experiences told by the converted, 
 
 93
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 it stood us in place of a theatre. Father 
 was a natural leader at such times, and as 
 he kept the schoolhouse key, me an' Ed 
 would be sent up early of a night to build 
 the fire an' light the lamps. We used to 
 sock the wood to that old box stove till 
 the top got red hot an' the pipe roared. 
 Then we'd set around an' wait for the 
 folks to come. 
 
 Old Henry Simmonds was always the 
 first to arrive. 
 
 " Wall, boys," he'd say to me an' Ed, 
 " I see you got a good fire goin'. But 
 that ain't nothin' to the fire as'll roast poor 
 sinners if they don't obey the call an' 
 come for'ard. Git religion, boys," he'd 
 say. " Git religion early in life an' be an 
 honor to your father an' mother." Then 
 he'd sit down in front of the stove an' spit 
 terbacker juice though the damper. 
 
 Father never said nothin' to us 'bout 
 gettin' religion, 'cause he thought us too 
 young, but me an' Ed 'ud get mighty 
 serious now an' then, as we was terrible 
 
 94
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 'fraid of dyin' an' goin' to the bad place 
 an* welterin' in the fires there. It was 
 good an' real to us then, I tell you ; for 
 beside what old Henry Simmonds was 
 eternally dingin' into our ears an' what 
 " Long John " Clark, a local preacher 
 with a powerful, pleadin' voice and an 
 earnest way with him, was always preachin' 
 'bout fire an' brimstone, we'd the old 
 family Bible at home, with its scarey pic 
 tures, to keep us shiverin' most of the 
 time. 
 
 There was one picture in that Bible I'll 
 never forget. It was 'long in Revelations 
 an' was intended to show how an Angel 
 come to lock up Satan every thousand 
 years. There was Hell itself a rollin' an' 
 tossin' in flames, the smoke curlin' up in 
 great clouds 'round about. Then there 
 was the Devil in the shape of a horrible 
 dragon with claw feet an' savage, sharp 
 teeth, an' a skin on him like a rhinoceros, 
 crouchin' back, while a tall Angel in bare 
 feet an' long hair confronted him with a 
 
 95
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 ponderous iron key. Blame if it didn't 
 just about set our teeth to chatterin' every 
 time we looked at that picture ! 
 
 But it didn't take me an' Ed long to 
 forget all about the Devil an' the bad 
 place the minute we got out into the open 
 air, with the sun shinin' overhead an' with 
 some mischief or other in our minds. I 
 guess we was too full of life to take things 
 seriously. 
 
 Well, this winter, long comes the young 
 English preacher to hold protracted meet- 
 in', and he was the most earnest young 
 feller you ever see. He had the "peni 
 tentiary" bench full of "convicts" the first 
 week, as old Dan, the French tailor, used 
 to say. 
 
 I never told you about Dan, did I ? 
 Well, I will some time. He was a case 
 for twistin' words. 
 
 Me an' Ed an' a few more boys set 
 
 back by the stove an' made no move, but 
 
 we could feel that the spirit or somethin' 
 
 was workin' in us. We knew we was awful 
 
 96
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 sinners, but we hadn't the nerve to go 
 forward. Will Tinker went forward, after 
 a bit, and I remember well how I wished 
 I was him. I could catch a glimpse of 
 him a blubberin' away an' gettin' saved at 
 one end of the penitent bench, and when 
 the prayin' was over an' the tellin' of 
 experiences begun, me an' Ed 'ud whisper 
 back an' forth, after sizin' up the faces, 
 and guess who'd got religion that night. 
 Some would come up tearful an' look as 
 if all their friends an' neighbors was dead 
 an' buried ; while others would be calm- 
 faced an' waitin' eagerly to be called on 
 to tell what the Lord had done for them. 
 
 One night, after me an' Ed had gone to 
 bed an' I was just beginnin' to doze off, 
 Ed scratched my leg with his big toe a 
 signal he had for openin' conversation. 
 
 "George," says he to me, "I'm goin' 
 for'ard to-morrow night." 
 
 "You dasn't do it," says I. 
 
 "Yes, I dast," says he. "I'm goin' 
 for'ard an' git religion." 
 
 97
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Ed was such a positive feller that it 
 kinder stumped me for a minute, but I 
 dasn't let him see he'd had the courage 
 to say what I dasn't. 
 
 " You go to sleep ! " says I. " You're 
 a fool!" 
 
 " Well, I'm goin' for'ard just the same," 
 says he. 
 
 "You dasn't go for'ard without me," 
 says I. 
 
 " I dare, too," says he. " I'll kneel 
 'longside of Will Tinker." 
 
 I lay an' thought, and was mighty un 
 comfortable. I knew if Ed went forward 
 an' left me by the stove I'd be looked on 
 as an outcast sinner, and Ed 'ud crow 
 over me like sixty if he got religion an' I 
 didn't. 
 
 But matters changed in my favor the 
 next night. When the call to come for 
 ward came from the young preacher, Ed 
 was pale as a sheet, and didn't stir. 
 
 " I thought you was goin' for'ard ? " 
 says I in a whisper. 
 
 98
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 He chawed a sliver, but didn't say a 
 word. 
 
 " Ain't you goin' to git religion ? " says 
 I, nudgin' him, for I see he was scart. 
 
 " George," says he faintly, " you go first; 
 I'll foller." 
 
 That was what I wanted, and when the 
 next call come I marched up, with Ed at 
 my heels, givin' Tish Brown a wink out of 
 my left eye as I passed her. 
 
 We knelt 'side of Will Tinker, who was 
 still seekin'; and, diggin' our knuckles 
 into our eyes, waited for religion to come. 
 
 " Felt anything yet ? " says I to Will, 
 nudgin' him. 
 
 " Not a blame thing ! " says he, " and 
 my knees is 'bout wore out ! " 
 
 I could hear Ed mumblin' away, and 
 so I started in to say my prayers, but it 
 didn't seem natural, it not bein' bed-time. 
 
 By an' by 'long come old Henry Sim- 
 monds, who patted our heads. 
 
 " Good boys," says he in his croaky 
 voice. " Save the lambs, Lord ! " says he, 
 
 99
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 and as he said it he stumbled over the end 
 of a bench. 
 
 Will Tinker snickered right out, and I 
 hid my face in my hands to keep from 
 laughin'. Say ! I never wanted to laugh so 
 bad in all my life. Me an' Will 'ud look 
 at one 'nother sideways an' then giggle to 
 ourselves, but Ed kept as serious as a 
 judge. 
 
 We didn't git religion that night or the 
 next. Will Tinker give up in despair an' 
 left off goin' for'ard, but me an' Ed hung 
 it out. 
 
 Finally, one night in bed I felt Ed's 
 big toe scrapin' along my calf an' I knew 
 somethin' was comin'. 
 
 " George," says he, "I b'lieve I've got 
 it!" 
 
 "Got what? " says I. 
 
 " Religion," says he. 
 
 "When did you get it? " says I. 
 
 "Well, I've been figurin," says he, 
 "and I guess I've got it." 
 
 I argued pro an' con, but couldn't 
 100
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 shake him. I was in a pickle. I knew 
 positive that I hadn't been moved a peg, 
 but I dasn't let Ed get ahead of me. 
 
 Next night, while we was buildin' the 
 fire, I says to him: 
 
 "Ed," says I, "if you've got it, I've 
 got it, too." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " says he. 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth, Ed," says I, 
 " I ain't dead certain." 
 
 " I guess you've got it, George," says 
 he, " for you've looked solemn all day." 
 
 We stood up that night among the 
 saved, and father talked very nice to us 
 an' mother cried a heap. 
 
 The next day we started out to live a 
 pious life, and carried our Sunday-school 
 lesson in our pockets. We prayed for 
 everybody we knew an' felt quite lifted 
 up for nigh a week, and then the crash 
 came. 
 
 It was this way : Up in the gables of 
 our barn was four little star-shaped holes 
 for the pigeons to come in an' out, and 
 101
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 just below them holes a pair of martins 
 had built their mud nest, and me an' Ed 
 had been figurin' for some time how to 
 get up there an' investigate the martin 
 family. We could climb up just so far 
 an' then have to give up. 
 
 Well, this day we started in to make a 
 sure thing of them martins. We took off 
 our boots, and diggin' our toes into the 
 clapboards an' hangin' to the joist, began 
 to climb. Up we went, higher'n ever, 
 and I got so I could just reach the bottom 
 of the martin's nest, when I heard a yell 
 from Ed an' see him tumble backward to 
 the mow below. He struck kerflop in 
 the soft pea straw, and at once began to 
 holler. I crawled back as fast as I could, 
 thinkin' he'd hurt himself. When I 
 reached the mow I found him sittin' on a 
 beam with one foot in his hand, the toes 
 all twisted up an' him a cryin' to beat the 
 band. 
 
 " Dum them thistles ! " he says, sobbin'. 
 " Gosh dum them blame thistles ! " 
 
 IO2
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 He'd dropped fair into a bunch of straw 
 full of thistles dry, old, sharp, brown 
 fellers that run in like needles, and his 
 feet was full of 'em. 
 
 " Do they hurt you, Ed?" says I, feel- 
 in' bad for him. 
 
 He let out a yell, and I see he was crazy 
 mad. 
 
 " Gosh dum them thistles ! " was all he 
 could say. " Gosh dum them gosh dum 
 thistles ! " 
 
 When he'd quieted down some I started 
 in to help him pick the thistles from his 
 feet an' clothes, and I says to him : 
 
 " Ed," says I, " I thought you had re 
 ligion ? " 
 
 " Dum them thistles ! blame 'em ! " 
 says he. " Gosh dum 'em ! ! " 
 
 " Ed," says I, " stop cussin'. You got 
 religion." 
 
 " I ain't got no religion ! Dum re 
 ligion ! " he howls. 
 
 "You're a backslider," says I, nippin' 
 along, ugly thistle from the calf of his leg. 
 103
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Dum religion ! " says he, sobbin'. 
 " Dum the martins, too ! " says he, glanc- 
 in' up at them. " Gosh dum 'em ! " 
 
 "Ed," says I, "you'll go to the bad 
 place, sure." 
 
 " I don't give a dum ! " says he. 
 
 "I'll go to Heaven," says I, "and 
 you'll go to the bad place." 
 
 ' Go where you like," says he. " There 
 ain't no thistles in the bad place, any 
 how," says he, defiant as you please. 
 
 He kept dummin' away savage as could 
 be till he'd found the last thistle. Then 
 we went to play over by the pig-pen. 
 
 That night Ed's big toe told me he'd 
 somethin' to say, and I waited. 
 
 " George," says he, "I wish you'd give 
 it up." 
 
 " Give up what? " says I. 
 
 " Religion," says he. " I ain't got it an' 
 I don't want to go to the bad place alone." 
 
 In my heart I was glad to be let off 
 from prayin' an' bein' solemn, but I made 
 the most of it. 
 
 104
 
 GETTIN' RELIGION 
 
 " Give me the green alley with the 
 white rings," says I, "and I'll do it." 
 
 "I'll give you four brown marbles," 
 says he. 
 
 " The green alley," says I, "or I stick." 
 
 " I'll give you five," says he. 
 
 " Nothin' but the green alley," says I, 
 for I knew I had him. 
 
 He thought for some time an' finally 
 wavered. 
 
 " Say f dum religion,' same's I did," says 
 he, "and I'll give you the green alley." 
 
 I had to say it, and then we both went 
 to sleep. We was hardened sinners from 
 that time on, until Ed growed up an* 
 got to be a preacher himself. 
 
 One day I says to him, sittin' smokin' 
 in his study, when he was preparin' a ser 
 mon : "Ed," says I, " do you remember 
 that time we went up after martins an' 
 lost religion ? " 
 
 Ed grinned. " You don't ever forget 
 anything, George," says he. " What boys 
 we was ! " 
 
 105
 
 The Persuasive Eloquence of 
 John Wesley Cuff 
 
 You've all read in books an' newspapers 
 about certain men bein' such orators that 
 they could move their audiences to laugh 
 ter or tears by the magic of their voice. 
 I heard once that Bob Ingersoll was such 
 a man, and I went to hear him, but he 
 didn't move me any. He's a good talker, 
 is Bob, but do you know, that instead of 
 movin' me along with him he kinder 
 grated on my sensibilities, for I was farmer 
 born an' bred, and it rasped me up an' 
 down the back the way he pitched into 
 all that I'd been taught to hold sacred. 
 
 I heard Phillips Brooks once, too, but 
 
 he was no orator. Prob'ly the best 
 
 speaker I ever heard was old Sir John 
 
 MacDonald. I never agreed with Sir 
 
 106
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 John in politics, but I must own he could 
 tell his side of the story in a way to con 
 vince anybody not born a Grit. 
 
 The speakers that we read about don't 
 'mount to so much when we actually hear 
 'em, and I must confess I never met but 
 one man who could simply toy with the 
 human emotions, and that man was a chap 
 by the name of John Wesley Cuff, or, as 
 he was more commonly called, Wess Cuff. 
 
 Wess wasn't a particularly strikin' in 
 dividual, but he wasn't bad lookin' an' 
 had a good figure. He was a driver for 
 a livery stable; not a high position, but one 
 which he made the most of. He'd a low, 
 soft, sweet voice for a man, with tones in 
 it like the purr of a cat. With this voice 
 always went a magical smile. I say magi 
 cal, for it was really magical. He could 
 smile with either his eyes, his mouth, his 
 forehead or his cheeks, without disturbin' 
 the other parts, or he could unite 'em all 
 in one marvellous smirk that 'ud enchant 
 an' captivate the unwary. 
 107
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Jimmy O'Shay, the old deer hunter, 
 introduced me to John Wesley Cuff. 
 Jimmy had hired Wess to go back with 
 him to Whistlin' Coon Lake, a distance 
 of fifty miles from the borders of civiliza 
 tion, after a load of deer which he'd shot 
 several weeks before an' left hangin' in 
 the woods out of reach of bears an' 
 wolves. 
 
 Jimmy O'Shay was a character, too, but 
 this story isn't about him. I'll only say 
 that Jimmy had a particularly soft heart 
 that went well with his snow-white hair ; 
 that he loved bravery an' despised mean 
 ness, and that he was the most famous 
 swearer between Toronto an' Montreal. 
 Oaths fairly rippled from the lips of 
 Jimmy O'Shay, and it could truthfully be 
 said that he exuded profanity ; but the 
 strange part of it was that you seldom 
 noticed that he was swearin', he did it so 
 natural like. 
 
 I'd never been back in the real wilder 
 ness, so when Jimmy invited me to 
 108
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 accompany him on his trip, I accepted 
 with spirit, for I wanted to see the back 
 country. I saw it, and I don't want to 
 see it again. Once is enough for me. 
 
 Well, we got started all right, with a 
 fine team of gray horses an' a big bob 
 sleigh with the bottom full of straw to 
 keep our feet warm. Between Jimmy an' 
 Wess they kept the conversation lively. 
 They couldn't agree on a single point, and 
 refused to be convinced when I decided 
 a point one way or t'other. They knowed 
 everybody who'd ever lived for miles an' 
 miles around, and each had a positive 
 opinion to express. 
 
 Jimmy 'ud say to Wess : 
 
 " Wess," he'd say, " what's the good o' 
 you talkin' to me, when I know that 
 every word rollin' out yer throat's a lie ! " 
 
 And Wess 'ud return: 
 
 "Jimmy," he'd say, "there ain't a man 
 
 far an' near as I respect more'n I do you. 
 
 You've been like a father to me, Jimmy, 
 
 but I must say that, for a man of your 
 
 109
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 age, you've the most distorted notion of 
 facts of any man alive. I don't say you 
 lie, Jimmy remember that. I honor age ; 
 but I do say that you don't know what 
 you're talkin' about half the time." 
 
 Then Jimmy 'ud breathe profanity on 
 the frosty air an' start all over again. 
 
 We passed the jumpin'-off place at noon 
 of the second day, and then had to pick 
 a road as best we could along a blazed 
 trail, which wasn't difficult as long as the 
 light held out. It was the intention of 
 my companions to reach the home of the 
 Bheels, a family of backwoods farmers, 
 before dark, but the night fairly dropped 
 on us before we was within five miles of 
 the Bheels' clearin', and we had to pick 
 our way cautious like 'long among the 
 stumps an' trees. 
 
 We was half frozen when we caught the 
 first glimmer of light ahead, and sure 
 enough, it turned out to be the cabin of 
 the Bheels. 
 
 Wess drove up before the door with a 
 
 1 10
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 flourish. A couple of half-starved curs 
 come yelpin' round the corner of the 
 house, and Wess lifted up his voice in a 
 cheery " Hallo ! " 
 
 The cabin door opened an* I saw a 
 stout woman in the entry, with half a 
 dozen eager faces peerin' over her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " The < Queen of the Woods ' an' her 
 fairies, by all the gods ! " cried Wess, 
 standin' up in the sleigh an' bowin' pro 
 foundly. 
 
 "It's that there Wess Cuff," I heard 
 the " Queen " say, as she turned to her 
 attendant fairies, and then she called : 
 
 " Is that you, Wess, sure enough ? " 
 
 " It's me, mother, just poor little me 
 an' Jimmy an' a young feller out for his 
 health. Can you put us up ? " 
 
 We didn't wait for a reply, but bundled 
 out into the snow, and gatherin' up an 
 armful of blankets an' provender each, we 
 entered the house. 
 
 It was a log house, one story an' a six- 
 iii
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 teenth high. The parlor, dinin'-room, 
 spare bedroom, library, kitchen an' wood- 
 house was all on the first floor. There 
 was no partitions between these rooms. 
 The family bedrooms was in bunks along 
 the south wall of the cabin, and the room 
 for guests an' dogs was on the floor be 
 hind the cook-stove, that is, if the guests 
 didn't choose to crawl up a ladder into the 
 loft an' run the risk of losin' their lives in 
 collision with bundles of seed corn on the 
 ear, suspended from the rafters. There 
 was a bare table in the combination room, 
 several rough wooden chairs, a cupboard 
 with a few dishes, and the rest of the fur- 
 nishin's was human or animal. 
 
 First, there was father Bheel, a weak- 
 eyed man, slender an' stooped, who might 
 be any age you could guess. He chawed 
 terbacker earnestly an' spit into the 
 damper from any point in the room with 
 a directness that would have made his 
 fortune on the variety stage. He was a 
 man given to silence. 
 112
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 Second, there was mother Bheel a 
 large woman, rugged an' mighty in her 
 massiveness of strength. She pervaded 
 the cabin with form an' voice. She was 
 certainly a woman that made her presence 
 felt. I'd not call her face handsome; it 
 was far from that. It wasn't a motherly 
 face either, but for all it was a strong and 
 genuinely feminine face. She was a tire 
 less talker, but her voice run to harshness, 
 caused likely by the high pitch at which 
 she kept it. 
 
 Third, there was Bobby Bheel a young 
 man, p'raps twenty-one, with a natural 
 growth of whiskers an' brains. He like 
 wise was an expert marksman, although 
 I've see him miss, somethin' his father 
 never did. 
 
 Fourth, there was the girls Minnie, 
 Ellen an' Mamie twenty, eighteen, six 
 teen, blonde, with faded brown hair; 
 blonde, with very much faded brown hair; 
 blonde, with bright red hair. Passable 
 homely pretty. All wore short dresses 
 
 "3
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 an' was bare-footed. All had outgrown 
 their dresses, as could be seen from the 
 free play given their wrists an' hands, and 
 all preferred safety pins to buttons, as 
 was likewise exteriorly manifested. All 
 was bashful all was curious, and all 
 thought John Wesley Cuff was the most 
 delightful man in the world. 
 
 Fifth, there was the dogs Jerry an' 
 Stingo friends an' lovers ; passionately 
 fond of one another's ears; sharp-eyed 
 hound pups, with sweet dispositions an' 
 very accommodatin' when requested to 
 give place by the stove to another mem 
 ber of the family. 
 
 After supper I won't describe that 
 supper. It was what reporters call " unfit 
 for publication." After supper Jimmy 
 an' I decided that the air of the general 
 room wasn't good for us, and that we'd 
 crawl up into the attic an' go to sleep. 
 This we did, but we didn't go to sleep, 
 for every word said below could plainly 
 be heard by us. 
 
 114
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 The family, with Wess seated between 
 Minnie an' Mamie on a bench, immedi 
 ately at the rear of the stove, evidently 
 had no intention of retirin' before dawn. 
 The conversation was all interestin', but I 
 only want to tell you that part which 
 shows up the wonderful persuasiveness of 
 John Wesley Cuff. 
 
 " Bobby," says Wess, in his softest, 
 sweetest tone, " Bobby," says he, " when 
 I come in to-night I was a little surprised 
 at you, Bobby. When your father told 
 you to run an' put up the horses, you 
 didn't jump at the word, Bobby," says 
 he, " the way a smart, active boy like you 
 should. You hung 'round the fire, Bobby, 
 and let your poor old father go first 
 now, didn't you ? " 
 
 " Naw, I didn't," says Bobby in a 
 muffled tone. 
 
 " Yes, you did, drat you ! " yells the old 
 man. " Don't answer me back ! You 
 shut up, there, or I'll swat you!" 
 
 Silence for a moment, and then Wess's 
 
 "5
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 gentle voice : " Bobby, how would you 
 like to see your dear old father laid out in 
 his coffin, arms folded, eyes shut, with 
 coppers on 'em, and the hearse standin' 
 outside the door to bear his body away to 
 the grave ! Wouldn't you think then of 
 your dear old father, Bobby ? of how he 
 raised you from a boy, and worked an' 
 sweat for you to give you a livin' and an 
 education ? Wouldn't it just break your 
 heart, Bobby, to recall the many times 
 you've let your father do the chores which 
 you could have done as well an' saved his 
 dear old back ? Ah, yes ! you'll think 
 of that, Bobby, when your dear old 
 father's gray hairs are laid away an' his 
 back's straightened out in death ! " 
 
 The audible grief of the family could 
 now be distinctly heard, and comin' from 
 between sobs which shook Mrs. Bheel's 
 powerful, maternal bosom, was these 
 words : 
 
 " Say you will, Bobby ! " a big sob 
 " say you will, Bobby ! " 
 116
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 " I don't wanter see'm dead, and I 
 never said I did," says Bobby, defiantly. 
 
 " Oh, Bobby ! you're horrid ! " snaps 
 Minnie. 
 
 " I ain't, neither ! " says Bobby. 
 
 " Shet up there, you ! Don't you sass 
 your sister!" cries his father. "A bad, 
 undutiful son you are, and you know it." 
 
 " I ain't, neither ! " says Bobby. 
 
 "Shet up! shet up! or I'll swat 
 you ! " again scolds the old man. 
 
 Then Wess glides into the discord 
 with : " Bobby, you're a good boy. "I ain't 
 down on you, Bobby. I always told your 
 dear mother you was a bright boy. f Mrs. 
 Bheel,' I says to her many's an' many's a 
 time, c Bobby'll be a handsome man, 
 Mrs. Bheel, and look just like you, Mrs. 
 Bheel.' Now, didn't I say them words, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " That you did, Mr. Cuff," replied the 
 
 flattered mother, with pride in her voice. 
 
 " You said them very words, Mr. Cuff, 
 
 and Bobby's a handsome boy, though 
 
 117
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 who he took it from, the Lord knows ! 
 for it was certainly not his father, and as 
 for me " 
 
 (C 
 
 Mrs. Bheel ! mother ! " says Wess. 
 " Go slow, now ; not so fast there. You 
 ain't blarneyin' with Jimmy now, but 
 talkin' with J ohn Wesley Cuff, who never 
 says a word he don't mean an' can't prove. 
 I know where Bobby gets his good looks, 
 and where Minnie an' Mamie an' Ellen 
 here get their beauty, oh, I know ! " 
 
 Wess must have squeezed the girls at 
 this point, for they gave a little scream an' 
 Mrs. Bheel said: 
 
 "Girls ! girls ! don't be shy. It's only 
 Mr. Cuff." 
 
 Wess continued, and I could imagine 
 how blandly he smiled: 
 
 "Yes, Bobby is a handsome boy an' 
 his whiskers are very becomin'," he says. 
 " Now, Bobby, I want you to think. 
 You're a good boy at heart, Bobby, and 
 I know you love your father an' mother 
 an' your three pretty sisters, and you 
 118
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 wouldn't want to go away an' leave 'em. 
 So, Bobby, when you see your father 
 move to'ards the barn, you must jump in 
 ahead of him an' have the chores all done 
 before he passes the woodpile. It's in 
 you to do it, Bobby, now ain't it ? " 
 
 " I like to be good," says Bobby, quite 
 plaintive. 
 
 " Yes, he does," says his father. " Bobby 
 is a 'tarnal good boy. Why, only last 
 ploughin' I says to John Chinneck, as I 
 handed him a chaw of terbacker t John,' 
 says I, 'if you only had a boy like my 
 Bobby, 'twould be easier for you,' and 
 John 'lowed it would." 
 
 "Now, that's what I always thought," 
 says Wess. " So here we are, all happy 
 an' lovin' an' admirin' of one 'nother." 
 
 Then says he : " Mamie," he says, " do 
 you go to school now ? " 
 
 " Not in winter time, Mr. Cuff," says 
 Mamie. 
 
 "Can you read an' write ? " says he. 
 
 " Can Mamie read an' write ! " cries 
 119
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Mrs. Bheel. "You jest show him what 
 you can do, Mamie. Why, she's the 
 scholar of the family ! " 
 
 "Now, mother, go slow go slow," says 
 Wess. " Remember, you ain't talkin' to 
 Jimmy O'Shay now," says he. " Don't 
 I know these girls, one an' all ? Haven't 
 I known 'em for years ? Don't you go to 
 disparagin' your oldest daughters, Mrs. 
 Bheel, just because they ain't attendin' 
 ladies' colleges or havin' the priv'lege of 
 three months' schoolin' each summer, the 
 same's Mamie." 
 
 "I ain't disparagin' 'em," says Mrs. 
 Bheel. 
 
 "Well, it sounds very much like it, 
 when you go an' set up your youngest 
 child as the scholar of the family right 
 over the heads of her beautiful sisters." 
 
 Minnie an' Ellen was now in tears. I 
 could plainly hear 'em sobbin' and Mrs. 
 Bheel evidently felt very uncomfortable. 
 
 "It's a terrible thing, Mrs. Bheel," 
 continues Wess, " to flaunt one child over 
 1 20
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 another. It breeds discord an' envy. 
 Don't cry, Minnie. Cheer up, Ellen ; 
 don't take it so to heart. Even if your 
 mother does go back on you an' put up 
 Mamie as the only child she loves, I'll 
 stand by you, and so will your father an' 
 Bobby. You'll be all right yet when you 
 go out front an' marry a handsome, rich 
 man apiece, and then won't your mother 
 miss you ! " 
 
 " I never said I didn't love them girls ! " 
 sobs Mrs. Bheel. 
 
 "Well, well," says Wess, "we won't 
 argue it any further. I'm waitin' for 
 Mamie to read for me." 
 
 " I won't read for you ! " says Mamie, 
 with a pout. 
 
 "Mamie," says Wess, "you'll fall off 
 the bench if you move any further away, 
 and Ellen will slip in between you an' me. 
 Come here to my side. Now, Mamie, 
 look me in the eyes. You're angry at 
 me, Mamie, 'cause I stuck up for your sis 
 ters. Did I say, Mamie, that you wasn't 
 121
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 the cutest little girl back of Cloyne ? Did 
 I say that you wasn't so blame handsome, 
 with them black eyes an' red lips of yours, 
 that if you'd dare to step your foot out 
 front the fellers wouldn't make a dead set 
 for you? now, did I, Mamie?" 
 
 " No, you didn't," says Mamie, mild as 
 a kitten. 
 
 "Then read to me," says Wess. 
 
 She read, or stumbled over a lesson 
 from the Second Reader about " Silver- 
 locks an' the Bears," and when she'd 
 done, Wess clapped his hands. 
 
 " A kiss for reward ! " he cried, and I 
 heard the smack plainly. 
 
 Everything was quiet now for a few 
 minutes, and no sound broke the stillness 
 save the sizzlin' in the fire when father 
 Bheel struck the bulls'-eye. 
 
 Then Wess began again at Bobby : 
 
 " Bobby," he says, "is it actually true 
 that you'll set here by the stove burnin' 
 the soles off your boots, while your dear, 
 kind mother carries in the wood ? You 
 
 122
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 may think, Bobby, that I don't notice, but 
 I do." 
 
 " She never asks me," says Bobby, with 
 a growl. 
 
 " He wouldn't do it if I did ask him," 
 returns his mother. 
 
 "He makes us carry all the water, too," 
 says the girls in chorus. 
 
 " It ain't no sech thing," says Bobby, 
 fidgetin'. 
 
 "Shet up, or I'll swat your face ! " cries 
 Mr. Bheel, wakin' up. " Shet up, you 
 unnatural son, you ! " 
 
 " Ah, me ! " says Wess, " that's the way 
 with boys. Here's Bobby, a great, strap- 
 pin' feller capable of doin' two men's 
 work, and yet he sits by the fire and lets 
 his father do the chores, his delicate 
 mother carry in the wood an' his sweet 
 sisters bend their frail backs luggin' water. 
 You'd ought to be ashamed, Bobby 
 that's what you had. You'd ought to feel 
 too mean to hold up your head." 
 
 " He's a lazy, good-for-nothin'," says 
 123
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Mrs. Bheel. " All he can do is shovel in 
 sauerkraut an' salt pork. He's an un 
 grateful boy, and I always said it." 
 
 " Now, you know I ain't, mother," 
 says Bobby, chokin' up. 
 
 " Yes, you be ! " yells the old man, 
 " yes, you be, you lazy lummicks ! Don't 
 open your mouth to me, sir, or I'll swat 
 your face ! " 
 
 " I don't see why you're all down on 
 me ! " sobs Bobby. 
 
 " 'Cause you're a bad, ungrateful boy," 
 says his mother. 
 
 A few minutes of painful silence now 
 ensued ; then I heard the voice of John 
 Wesley Cuff, and by its tone I felt he was 
 goin' to calm the storm. 
 
 " Bobby," says he, " there ain't no 
 doubt that you've let your mother carry 
 in wood, but I don't believe you'll ever 
 do it again. You musn't let her do it, 
 Bobby. It makes her bend her back, 
 Bobby, and if she keeps it up, it'll spoil 
 her figure, which mustn't be ; for, Bobby, 
 124
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 do you ever realize what a handsome, 
 young-lookin' mother you have, and that 
 she's generally considered the finest-built 
 woman back of Cloyne ? 
 
 "Think how you'd miss her, Bobby, were 
 she to break her back one day over a pine 
 knot ! Who'd sew earlappers into your 
 cap then ? Who'd darn your mittens then, 
 Bobby, and knit new feet into your socks ? 
 Who'd make the sauerkraut an' dried 
 apple pie, which you love so well, if your 
 mother was turned into an angel an* flew 
 away? 
 
 " Look at her now, Bobby, sittin' by 
 your side, and then think of your loss !" 
 
 " You praise me too high, Mr. CufF 
 you certainly do,'" says Mrs. Bheel, but 
 I knew that her heart was glad in her. 
 
 "You're so modest," says Wess. "Girls," 
 says he, "just look at your mother ; see 
 her blush. Ain't she handsome now? 
 Girls, listen to me: Try to avoid bein' 
 as over modest an' humble as your mother 
 is. If you don't, you'll not get far in the 
 125
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 world." Then he took Bobby up where 
 he'd temporarily abandoned him. 
 
 Bobby," says he, " I believe you have 
 a genuinely good heart, and no matter 
 what anyone says they can't make me be 
 lieve to the contrary. You will now stop 
 to think, and when you see your mother 
 make a motion for wood, you just jump, 
 Bobby, and have an armful beside the 
 stove in a jiffy. And the same with 
 your delicate sisters, who are just blos- 
 somin' out like young cherry trees grab 
 the water pail from their hands an* fly to 
 the pump. 
 
 " It would have been the makin' of 
 me, Bobby, if I'd been brought up with 
 three such lovely girls as these. I 
 wouldn't have been half as selfish as I am. 
 So promise me, Bobby, that you won't do 
 it again." 
 
 " I'll promise anything," says Bobby. 
 
 " You hear that, Mrs. Bheel ? " says 
 Wess. " Bobby promises to be good. 
 Now I want you to forgive him." 
 126
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 " I do forgive him," says Mrs. Bheel. 
 " Bobby's a mighty good boy, and I do 
 love him." 
 
 " Do you forgive your only brother, 
 girls? " says Wess. 
 
 " We ain't got nothin' agin him," they 
 said in one voice. 
 
 " Now, you see, Bobby," says Wess, 
 " I've fixed you out all right, an' you can 
 start fresh. Always remember I'm your 
 friend, Bobby." 
 
 And so it went on. I could hear Jimmy 
 turnin' nervously every now an' then, and 
 swearin' softly to himself. I didn't be 
 lieve I'd ever get to sleep, for the moment 
 I'd make up my mind that the conversa 
 tion down stairs was over an' compose 
 myself for slumber, that moment would 
 bring the soft, insinuatin' voice of John 
 Wesley Cuff up through the cracks, and 
 I was forced to listen to a new line of 
 argument. Before midnight he had the 
 old man worked up to the point of apply- 
 in' for a divorce from his wife. This he 
 127
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 smoothed down in a few minutes. He had 
 Minnie bitterly jealous of Ellen, and 
 Mamie hatin' every other member of the 
 family who was said to be keepin' this 
 wild rose down. 
 
 Bobby was mauled in harrowin' style, 
 and once when his father raised a stick of 
 stove wood to throw at his son, Wess 
 calmed the storm, and in a minute more 
 father an' son was on the best of terms. 
 
 I haven't exaggerated a single point. 
 Wess's power was wonderful. The last 
 thing I remember, he had the girls tellin' 
 him just what they'd do if they had a 
 hundred dollars each to spend as they 
 liked. 
 
 In the mornin' Wess kissed all the 
 ladies good-bye an' shook hands warmly 
 with Bobby an* his father. Mrs. Bheel 
 told me in strict confidence, while Wess 
 was hitchin' up, that he was her ideal of a 
 man ; that God Almighty may have made 
 smarter men an' pleasanter men to meet 
 than Wess Cuff, but she'd never met 'em. 
 128
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 Wess gave each of the girls a brightly- 
 polished brass ring, and to Bobby he gave 
 an equally attractive jewsharp. 
 
 If they'd been Pagan-bred, the Bheels 
 would have made a god to represent John 
 Wesley Cuff an' worshipped it with heart 
 felt adoration. 
 
 On our return with the deer, we only 
 stopped at the Bheels to warm. Wess 
 improved this opportunity by invitin' the 
 whole family to come an' stay with him 
 any time they happened in town. Neither 
 the girls or Bobby had ever seen the cars, 
 and Mrs. Bheel had only heard them at a 
 distance. So they listened eagerly while 
 Wess dilated on the sights of the town. 
 
 When we got under way again, Jimmy 
 O'Shay turned to Wess an' said : 
 
 " Wess Cuff, you're the low downdest, 
 meanest cuss I ever see leadin' them 
 poor, foolish people on to thinkin' that 
 they really 'mount to somethin' in the 
 world. What good does it do you, man, 
 to lie an' deceive so ? " 
 129
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "Why, Jimmy, it ain't lyin' an' de 
 ceit," says Wess. " I was jest jollyin' 'em 
 along, you know. You ain't got no fun 
 in you, Jimmy not a blame bit. Why, 
 the other night, when I had 'em all lovin' 
 one another one minute an' ready to fight 
 the next, I don't believe I ever had a bet 
 ter time. It was better'n any show I was 
 ever to." 
 
 About five miles the other side of 
 Cloyne, Wess claimed he was feelin' faint, 
 and pulled up before a rather respectable, 
 small frame farmhouse, statin' that he was 
 goin' to ask for a glass of milk. Both 
 me an' Jimmy O'Shay felt that a few 
 minutes' warmin' wouldn't do us any 
 harm ; so we tied the horses an' marched 
 to the house in a body. 
 
 The farmer was away, but his wife was 
 at home, and she proved mighty hospit 
 able, givin' us all the milk we wanted an' 
 apologizin' for not bein' able to entertain 
 us better. She was a young, fine-lookin' 
 woman of about thirty, plump as a part- 
 130
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 ridge an' very sociable. As we sat by the 
 stove, warmin', Wess as usual kept up a 
 lively conversation with her, and discov 
 ered her weakest point to be a passionate 
 love for jewelry. 
 
 Now, Wess never went anywhere with 
 out his pockets full of cheap chains an' 
 rings, which he was accustomed to work 
 off on the rustics, much to the disgust of 
 that honest Irishman Jimmy O'Shay. 
 
 He produced from his vest pocket a 
 small chamois bag, from which he took a 
 long, glitterin', ladies' watch-chain, and 
 fondled it lovin'ly in his hand. 
 
 " Your speakin' of jewelry, ma'am, re 
 minded me of this lovely chain," he says, 
 smilin' at the woman. 
 
 She eyed the chain covetously. 
 
 " I shouldn't have brought so expensive 
 a chain as this with me," says Wess, 
 seriously. " But I daren't leave it at home 
 for fear of its bein' stolen while I was away." 
 
 " Did you buy it for your wife ? " says 
 the woman.
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " No, I didn't," says Wess. " She has 
 one now, not so good a chain, of course, 
 but one that fills the bill all right. She 
 wanted this chain an' begged like a baby 
 for it, but I really couldn't afford the 
 pleasure of givin' it to her. I got it fairly 
 cheap, however, from a drummer. Where 
 he got it, I don't know an' didn't inquire. 
 He was hard up, I guess he'd been 
 playin' the game an' had to part with it. 
 Now, how much d'ye think this chain 
 might be worth, ma'am ? " 
 
 Wess stretched the chain from one hand 
 to the other an' then dangled it before 
 the woman's eyes. She made a motion to 
 take it, but he evidently had no intention 
 of grantin' her the pleasure of fondlin' it. 
 
 " It might have cost ten dollars," says 
 she. 
 
 " Why, lady ! " cries Wess in an injured 
 tone. " You don't really mean that ! Look 
 at this beautiful chain again. See how the 
 links are all double locked. I thought 
 you could guess better than that." 
 132
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 "Well, I ain't much of a judge of 
 price," says the woman, much abashed, as 
 she saw she'd hurt his feelin's in puttin' 
 the price so low. "We don't see such 
 lovely things back here very often," she 
 says. "I know it's a beautiful chain, and 
 must have cost a lot of money, may be 
 twenty-five dollars." 
 
 "That's better," says Wess, "and if 
 you'd just make a little sum by settin' 
 twenty-five down on the slate, puttin' two 
 under it an' sayin * twice five is ten 
 ought an' carry one twice two is four an* 
 one to carry makes five,' you'd have fifty 
 dollars ; and that's about what the chain 
 cost originally, though I will own I didn't 
 pay quite that for it." 
 
 I heard Jimmy swearin' softly into the 
 damper. Jimmy was a terrible polite man 
 before women. 
 
 " Why, I never had as much as fifty 
 dollars in my life," says the woman. 
 
 " It's a big sum," says Wess, and he 
 started to put away the chain. 
 
 '33
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "Won't you let me hold it in my 
 hands ? " says the woman. 
 
 Wess looked at her an' then enveloped 
 her in his wonderful smile, all the features 
 joinin' in. 
 
 "Just like a child," he says. "I 
 always did say women is jest like children. 
 Can't see a thing but they must have their 
 hands on it." Then he lightly tossed the 
 chain about the woman's neck. 
 
 She blushed red an* dangled the part 
 that hung down. 
 
 " Oh, it's so lovely ! " says she. 
 
 Wess gazed at her, then at the chain, 
 smilin' all the while, and presently the 
 question came that he waited for. 
 
 " What's the very least you'd take for 
 it? " says she. 
 
 " I'm afraid it's too expensive for you," 
 says he. 
 
 " I might afford it," says she, " and 
 John would buy it, I know, if he was 
 here. John gets me everything I want." 
 
 "Have you got forty dollars?" says 
 
 134
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 Wess, (you must remember the chain 
 was worth probably seventy-five cents. ) 
 
 " No, I haven't any money," says she, 
 " but I've got a cow." 
 
 " Well, we'll start with the cow," says 
 Wess. " Put the cow down for twenty 
 dollars," says he. " It's a big price, but 
 seem' you want the chain so badly I'm 
 inclined to be liberal." 
 
 "Then I've got a dozen geese," says 
 she, smilin' silly like. 
 
 "Twelve geese at seventy-five cents 
 each, say a dollar," says he. " That 
 makes twelve dollars. Twenty an' twelve 
 is thirty- two. Come again," says he. 
 
 " I ain't got nothin' more but a shoat," 
 says she, " and John wouldn't want to 
 part with the shoat." 
 
 " One shoat, five dollars," says Wess. 
 "Thirty -two an' five is thirty- seven. 
 Three dollars shy; but I'm generous. 
 Give me the cow, the twelve geese an' the 
 shoat, and the chain is yours." 
 
 " Oh, I couldn't part with the shoat," 
 
 135
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 says she, very sad. "I couldn't part with 
 the shoat," says she. " It's John's shoat 
 an' he wants to winter it." 
 
 " Well, I'm afraid we can't trade, then," 
 says Wess, the smile dyin' out of his face 
 as he reached his hand for the chain. 
 
 The woman slowly took the chain from 
 about her neck, as if it was tearin* her 
 heart strings to do so. 
 
 " I jest dasn't part with the shoat," 
 says she, still holdin' the chain. 
 
 Wess still held out his hand. 
 
 " You couldn't think of lettin' me keep 
 the shoat ? " says she. 
 
 " Not possibly," says Wess. 
 
 She dropped the chain reluctantly into 
 his hand. 
 
 " John would be mad if I let the shoat 
 go," says she. " I couldn't do it. He'd 
 grieve about it." 
 
 We thanked the woman for her hospi 
 tality. Jimmy gave her a quarter, and I 
 slipped another quarter into the hand 
 which had so lovin'ly toyed with Wess's 
 136
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 brass chain. Not a word was spoken 
 until we was a mile or so from the house. 
 Then Jimmy began to melt the icicles 
 clustered on his gray mustache with a 
 torrid stream of red-hot cuss words. 
 
 " Wess Cuff," says he, " you've driven 
 me for the last time. You're a dangerous 
 man to be with," says he, "and you an' I 
 part after this trip. You contemptible 
 scoundrel ! tryin' to sell a poor lone 
 woman a cheap brass chain for her only 
 cow, her feather-bed geese and her hus 
 band's shoat ! You scoundrel ! " says he. 
 
 Wess only laughed, and chirped to the 
 horses. 
 
 "A cow, twelve geese an' a shoat," says 
 Jimmy indignantly. " You villain ! " 
 
 Wess never said a word ; only kept a 
 chucklin' to himself. 
 
 There was silence for p'raps five min 
 utes, and then Jimmy began to splutter 
 again. He evidently was worryin' over 
 somethin', because he kept repeatin' the 
 items of the proposition. 
 
 1 37
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Tell me, Wess Cuff, you scoundrel ! " 
 says he, "what made you stick out for 
 the shoat?" 
 
 Wess continued to chuckle, but didn't 
 reply. 
 
 " The shoat couldn't have been worth 
 more'n two dollars," says Jimmy. " Why 
 in thunderation did you balk at the 
 shoat?" 
 
 "Jimmy," says Wess in splendid good 
 nature, " Jimmy," he says, " you're a 
 fine feller, and you're a mighty good 
 shot with a rifle ; you're a blame good 
 feller, Jimmy, but you ain't got as much 
 sense of humor as one of your hound 
 pups. Your brains has all run to seed, 
 Jimmy ; you're growin' as blind as a bat 
 in your mind an' you can't see through a 
 wire fence." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! go on an' abuse me," says 
 Jimmy, but much more meekly, for he 
 felt that Wess had somethin' up his sleeve. 
 " Go on an' abuse me," he says, " but 
 first tell me one thing why you stuck on 
 
 138
 
 ELOQUENCE OF J. W. CUFF 
 
 the shoat?" The repeated question sent 
 Wess into a roar of laughter. 
 
 " Oh my trousies ! " says he, " but 
 Jimmy's goin' into mental decline ! Do 
 somethin' for it, Jimmy," he says, " or I 
 see the asylum before you ! " 
 
 " Didn't you really mean to trade after 
 all ? " says Jimmy, quite humble now, 
 " and was you just stickin' out for the 
 shoat as a bluff? " says he. 
 
 Wess winked at me. 
 
 "Jimmy's beginnin' to think," says he. 
 "Jimmy's beginnin' to reason." 
 
 " But tell me ! " says Jimmy, angrily. 
 
 " You tell me first," says Wess, " how 
 much you give the woman for entertainin' 
 you?" 
 
 " I give her a quarter," says Jimmy, 
 proudly. 
 
 "Well, I give her the chain," says 
 Wess, and then he laughed louder'n ever, 
 while Jimmy sunk into his fur coat an' 
 never opened his mouth till we reached 
 home. 
 
 139
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 He did. He give her the chain when 
 we wasn't lookin'. I never knew a 
 more remarkable man than John Wesley 
 Cuff.
 
 The Tale of a Strange Bed 
 
 The man who hustles for a livin' finds 
 himself in many peculiar situations an' 
 memorable sleepin' places. 
 
 I believe I've slept on every kind of 
 bed imaginable, from the bare earth to a 
 hair mattress. I've slept in spare beds 
 an' contracted rheumatism ; in straw beds, 
 which left their mark on me for days ; in 
 feather beds, that gave me the asthma, 
 and in beds so hard that I'd bruise myself 
 every time I'd turn over. 
 
 But the wildest night I ever passed was 
 in the bunk of a farmer's cabin, one hot 
 moonlight night in August, when I was 
 on a collectin' trip for the firm. 
 
 There was a country store that failed, 
 owin' us a lot of money. In the distri 
 bution of assets, a small farm fell to our 
 141
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 share, and the old man said to me one 
 day: 
 
 " George," he said, " I want you to 
 take a run out in the country an' look up 
 that farm, for I don't know whether it's 
 worth the taxes or not." 
 
 I found the neighborhood all right, but 
 I'm hanged if I could find the farm. No 
 body seemed to know anything about it, 
 and the section was so thinly settled that 
 there wasn't many people to ask. 
 
 Well, I drove around all day, inquirin' 
 here an' there, wherever I found a cabin, 
 but, as I said, without success. Sunset 
 found me far from the nearest village an' in 
 a mighty poor humor ; but I was used to 
 hard luck an' mean jobs in them days, 
 and was accustomed to make the best of 
 bad bargains. 
 
 I'd travelled for fully half an hour with 
 out sightin' a human bein', so when I 
 come out of a pine grove full on a log 
 shanty, I swear the cabin looked handsome 
 to me. 
 
 142
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 I pulled up before the door an' halloed. 
 
 A man stepped to the entrance, wipin' 
 his face with a towel. 
 
 "Hello!" says I. 
 
 < Hello ! " says he. 
 
 " Can you tell me where I am ? " says I. 
 
 " You're on the Gore road, six miles 
 from Aiken an' p'inted due east," says he. 
 
 " Thank you," says I. " I didn't know 
 but the bad place was somewhere's here 
 around, and I'd a notion of puttin' up 
 there for the night." 
 
 "It's hot enough 'most anywhere else 
 to-night," says he. " But if you ain't too 
 particular you might come in an' have 
 supper with us we was just settin' down 
 for they tell me the c Old Boy ' ain't a 
 particular good provider," and the man 
 grinned. He'd certain a vein of humor 
 in him. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of the Willoughby 
 farm ? " says I. 
 
 " I have," says he. 
 
 My spirits rose at once. 
 
 H3
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "You're the man I've been lookin' for 
 all day," says I. "They told me there 
 was just one man in the county that knew 
 that the world was round, and I thank 
 God I've found him." 
 
 The man still stood in the door, mop- 
 pin' his face an' grinnin'. 
 
 " Where is this farm ? " says I. 
 
 "That's a long story," says he, " for it's 
 what I call a lost farm, and will take a 
 land surveyor to find it, bein' situated on 
 the Gore between the seventh an' eighth 
 concessions." 
 
 " Could you point it out ? " says I. 
 
 " I could show you a part of it," says 
 he. 
 
 "Then," says I, jumpin' from the 
 buggy, " you're my man ; and if you can 
 put me up for the night, we could look 
 up the farm in the mornin'." 
 
 The man helped me unhitch, and we 
 
 soon had the horse put up. Then we 
 
 went into the house. It was a log cabin 
 
 of only one room, and about as primitive 
 
 144
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 an affair as you'd find in a year's travel. 
 
 The man's wife was inside gettin' sup 
 per. I remember the meal was rhubarb 
 sauce an' bread an' butter, chiefly a 
 mighty poor meal ; and I wondered that 
 such a clever-talkin' man would be con 
 tent with such poverty. 
 
 After supper me an' him went outside 
 and seated ourselves on a bench to have 
 a smoke, while the woman washed up the 
 things. 
 
 " How in the world," says I to him, 
 " do you come to be back here in this God 
 forsaken place ? " 
 
 The man took his pipe from between 
 his teeth an' looked cautiously toward the 
 cabin door. Seein' that his wife was 
 busily engaged, he turned to me an' 
 said : 
 
 " I don't wonder that you ask me, but 
 the reason I'm here is very simple. She 
 an' me is happier here than in any other 
 place in the world." 
 
 "What's the story?" says I. 
 
 H5
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 He looked at me keenly. "You're a 
 total stranger in these parts, be you ? " 
 says he. 
 
 " Never was here before an' never will 
 be again," says I. 
 
 " Then I don't mind tellin' you," says 
 he, " for God knows it does my heart 
 good to talk with a townsman once again." 
 
 " You're a city man born, then ? " says I. 
 
 " Aye," says he. " I was born in the 
 biggest city this side 'o London." 
 
 "New York?" says I. 
 
 " Yes," says he, " in New York. I 
 was born an' raised in New York. Damn 
 it forever an' ever, amen ! " 
 
 He said this reverently, raisin' his eyes 
 to the sky, which was sparklin' bright 
 with stars. 
 
 "You ain't stuck on the city, I would 
 judge? " says I. 
 
 " I don't want to ever see a city again," 
 says he. 
 
 He sat for some minutes meditatin', 
 and I see there was a mighty interestin' 
 146
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 story at the tip of his tongue, but I 
 thought best not to urge him. 
 
 " You see that full moon comin' up 
 over the trees ? " he says after a bit, 
 "rollin' up, rollin' up, big as a house 
 a-fire ? She's careenin' up just like that 
 out of the sea an' crawlin' over the tall 
 buildin's in New York this very minute. 
 What does she see here ? Fields of 
 stumps an' stones, a big forest, and right 
 here a little log cabin. What kind of 
 people does she see ? A man as loves his 
 wife better'n his immortal soul, and a 
 woman who'd go to hell for her husband 
 any day. I ain't speakin' of you, of 
 course. She sees us here, earnin' our 
 livin' by the hardest kind of hard work, 
 but honest an' happy. 
 
 "What does she see in New York? 
 the part where I was born an' bred ? 
 Misery an' woe ; vice that you dasn't 
 mention ; human sewage; beer guzzlin'; 
 foul-talkin* men, women an' children. 
 
 " I was born in a room over a rum- 
 
 147
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 shop. In a city of schools I never had a 
 day's schoolin'. I was taught to steal an' 
 to lie. My father I never knew. My 
 mother give me to a Jew woman an' 
 run away God knows where. I sold 
 papers ; I blacked boots ; I stole on sight. 
 I was four times on the Island before I 
 was eighteen. 
 
 " She," noddin' toward the cabin 
 " come up with me, side by side. She 
 was also a nameless kid. We fed to 
 gether as children on doorsteps an' slept 
 together in odds an' ends of corners. She 
 sold papers, too, and scrubbed out saloons 
 at odd times. Whenever I come from 
 the Island she was sure to be on the 
 wharf to meet me ; and we loved each 
 other as no two kids ever loved before 
 outside the story books. At least I think 
 so. Well, the last time I come out I was 
 always sent up for swipin' somethin' or 
 other, she met me as usual an' says to 
 me: f Jimmy,' she says, * we're goin' 
 away.' f Where ?' says I. ' To the place 
 148
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 where there ain't nobody at all,' says she. 
 c Come along,' says she. 
 
 "An' we went. Due north we went, 
 as ragged a pair of tramps as ever you 
 see. We both spent the winter in jail as 
 vagrants, but in the spring we started 
 again, and kept due north till we crossed 
 the St. Lawrence an' come into Canada. 
 We thought sure there would be nobody 
 in Canada, but there was. So we kept 
 pushin' back till we come to this identical 
 spot, on a Gore road, between townships, 
 and right at the edge of this pine grove 
 we settled down. 
 
 " We didn't know who owned the land, 
 and ain't positive now, but we guessed it 
 must be county land taken for taxes. We 
 had seventeen dollars that we'd begged an* 
 hung on to, and with this we got together 
 enough to make a start. Then we built 
 this cabin, log by log, and when it was 
 done we spruced up the best we could an' 
 went over to the village an' got married, 
 for before we'd always lived like brother 
 
 149
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 an' sister. I give the min'ster a dollar, 
 but he handed it back to me. He was a 
 decent kind of feller. 
 
 " No, I s'pose you never heard of a 
 poorer couple than we be. We've been 
 years here, and we've worked like beavers, 
 but you see, the land's so terrible poor 
 an' thin that the yield is small. But we've 
 enough to eat an' drink, and the clothes 
 we need is of the commonest kind, for we 
 never go beyond the limits of this clearin' 
 'cept now an' then to the store. We're 
 just as happy, however, as the day is 
 long, and no money would tempt me to 
 leave this spot. 
 
 " If I was worth a million to-day, I'd 
 build me a better house an' get some 
 farmin' tools which I actually need, and 
 then I'd found a home for orphans. Me 
 an' Maggie often talk it over; we've had 
 our fill of the city. We're quite religious, 
 too. Maggie can read real well, and Sun 
 days she reads to me from the Bible, and 
 between us we've fixed up a religion to 
 150
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 suit our case. It's founded on one verse, 
 * Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
 shall see God.' " 
 
 Now wasn't that a funny story to hear 
 away back there in the woods ! It's a 
 caution what odd people there are in the 
 world. 
 
 When it come bed-time I begun to 
 wonder where they was goin' to put me 
 up, for there seemed to be only one room. 
 But this difficulty was overcome by the 
 woman, who fixed up a screen of grain 
 bags before her bunk. My bed was made 
 up on the floor. 
 
 The man an' I stayed outside till she got 
 to bed ; then we turned in for the night. 
 The strange story he'd told me kept me 
 awake thinkin' it over, and the moonlight 
 shone in through the winder directly on 
 my face ; so it was pretty hard to drop off 
 to sleep. I did drop into a doze after a 
 bit, however, but I was awakened by a 
 desire to scratch. I seemed literally cov 
 ered with fleas. Now, one flea is enough
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 to make an ordinary man wild, but when 
 it comes to seventy-five hundred million 
 pesky fleas dancin' over your helpless 
 body, and every now an' then stoppin' to 
 take a nip well, no words can describe it. 
 
 I sat up an' looked about. Sweet slum 
 ber held the waifs of New York, as their 
 harmonious snorin' denoted. The moon 
 light filled the room. Outside I could 
 hear the soft summer wind purring through 
 the pines. 
 
 " There's the place for me," I says to 
 myself, and tiptoed noiselessly to the 
 door. My gosh ! how the fleas bit ! 
 Once outside the house I tore off my 
 shirt, and turnin' it inside out, slapped it 
 against the corner of the cabin, in hopes 
 of dislodgin' a few of my tormenters. 
 Just then I heard a gruesome " whoop ! 
 whoop ! " and turnin', saw two long-eared 
 deer hounds puttin' for me from the 
 direction of the barn. 
 
 Say ! it didn't take me long to get round 
 the corner of that shanty. But the hounds 
 152
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 was on my trail. I hoped to reach the 
 door before them, but the pace was too 
 hot for me when I got 'round front, for 
 had I paused a moment, they'd have been 
 upon me. So I grabbed my shirt tight 
 an' dug in my toes as I reached a corner. 
 
 " Whoop ! whoop ! " the hounds come 
 on. I could turn quicker'n they, and I 
 gained slightly. The woodyard was just 
 at the rear of the cabin, and as I sailed 
 round this side, my poor feet suffered 
 from the sharp chips. The hounds seemed 
 in fine fettle an' come on bravely, every 
 second breath lettin' out a whoop ! whoop ! 
 that 'ud lift the hair of a stuffed cat. 
 
 My breath was givin' out an' I felt that 
 " dog meat " was to be my fate. The 
 hounds grew cunnin', and twisted them 
 selves 'round the corners like a band-saw. 
 Say ! I must have been goin' a mile a 
 minute 'bout that time. I never'll have 
 any great respect for the speed of deer 
 hounds again. But they can holler. Law 
 me ! it's the most terrible sound you ever 
 
 1 S3
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 heard, and think of two of 'em right at 
 your heels an' you naked as the day you 
 was born ! Gosh ! it gives me the shivers 
 even now ! 
 
 Well, as I flew 'round that shanty for 
 the hundred an' fortieth time, I caught a 
 glimpse of two white-robed people standin' 
 in the door an' heard 'em holler at the 
 hounds as I passed. The door was open 
 behind 'em. When I come 'round again I 
 swung out slightly so's to make a good 
 turn, and dashed into the cabin with the 
 yell of a wild Injun. 
 
 I had the sheet ofF the bed and around 
 me before the woman had picked herself 
 up, for I'd keeled her over as I entered. 
 I don't believe that couple ever had as 
 good a laugh in their lives as they had 
 then, and them two dum hounds stood 
 waggin' their tails in the doorway. 
 
 But it was no laughin' matter for me. 
 My feet was all cut up an' bled like every 
 thing. Seein' my condition, they stopped 
 laughin' for a minute or so an' bathed 
 
 '54
 
 TALE OF A STRANGE BED 
 
 my feet. But even as they was bindin' 
 up my sores I could hear 'em sniggle to 
 'emselves. 
 
 There was no more sleep that night, 
 and strangest of all no more fleas nary 
 a flea. I must have scart 'em out of the 
 cabin. We sat there in the moonlight 
 an' talked religion till the sun come up. 
 You never heard such talk as that man 
 and woman put up. Hang it ! I some 
 times think they had it about right, for 
 what they did believe in was the Simon 
 pure article. 
 
 Now, where do you think I found the 
 Willoughby farm to be when I looked 
 the next day ? Why, right under my 
 feet ! The couple had squatted on it. 
 
 " Be you goin' to put us off? " says 
 they to me with big eyes, when I told 
 'em the facts. 
 
 " It's a lost farm," says I in reply, 
 takin' up the reins, " and you've found it. 
 In Canada," says I, " findin' is keepin', 
 and the farm's yours forever an' ever."
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Then I drove off, after givin' the 
 woman a dollar. 
 
 I told the old man all about it when I 
 got back to town. 
 
 " You did right, George," he says, 
 "quite right. But see that the farm is 
 deeded to them properly, so that I won't 
 have to pay the taxes." 
 
 He'd a queer mixture of good an' bad 
 in him, had the old man. He'd dicker 
 up to the very edge of the pit, but you'd 
 find him at church Sunday mornin'.
 
 The Cold Girl from Bald 
 Mountain 
 
 One day I got a telegram at Tamworth 
 to hurry to Tweed to attend Division 
 Court there on a case I knew all about. 
 
 It was in January, and cold. Well, 
 cold ain't no name for it. It was thirty 
 below if a point, and I wrapped up for 
 the occasion. I had one of them old- 
 fashioned Scotch shawls about twenty 
 feet long an' four wide, you know ; lots 
 of people had 'em them days, and this 
 shawl I wrapped 'round my shoulders an' 
 body over my ulster, so that the cold 
 didn't have much chance to get at me. I 
 wore a warm pair of woolen gloves, and 
 over them a heavy pair of fur gloves with 
 big gauntlets, but even then my hands 
 would grow numb if I didn't keep 
 
 157
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 poundin' 'em on my knees. I had a rat- 
 tlin' good horse for a long, fast trip ; as 
 tough a beast an' as brave-hearted as ever 
 drew a cutter out of a pitch-hole without 
 stickin' his heels through the dasher. 
 
 But he had one fault : He interfered 
 bad, and whenever he struck, it evident 
 ly hurt the poor cuss, for he'd go off 
 on three legs for a spell like a dog. It 
 used to make me awful mad, for he'd be 
 sure to make an exhibition of himself 
 just when we was enterin' a village, and I 
 was sensitive about my rigs always. Pads 
 or nothin' 'ud do him any good, until I 
 hit upon the plan of givin' him one hard 
 swipe with the whip along the back the 
 moment he struck. This did all very well 
 for a time, and then a worse evil resulted. 
 He come to know that a swipe of the 
 whip follered each strike, and to avoid 
 this, the moment his heels knocked to 
 gether he'd dart into the air like a cannon 
 ball an' run for all he was worth, until he 
 felt certain the whip had been forgotten. 
 158
 
 THE COLD GIRL 
 
 He was a good, game horse, but he did 
 have his faults. 
 
 Well, this day I left Tamworth in the 
 early mornin' an' started due north for 
 Tweed. The sun shone round an' yellow 
 as a gold dollar, and with no more warmth 
 in it than a pancake three days old. The 
 snow was very deep an' the road full of 
 pitch-holes, so it kept me well shaken up. 
 
 About two miles this side of a little 
 Irish village I come upon a girl walkin' 
 in the same direction I was goin'. She 
 stepped out into the snow to let me pass, 
 but I hauled up, and throwin' down the 
 buffalo robe, said curtly : 
 
 "Jump in if you want a ride." 
 
 She wasn't slow in complyin', and I 
 drove on without another word. I had 
 my face wound 'round with a muffler, so 
 that I could only see straight ahead, and 
 I didn't feel much like talkin'. 
 
 When we'd left the village behind us, I 
 asked her where she was goin'. She named 
 a settlement some ten miles further along.
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Where've you come from ? " I asked 
 again. 
 
 " From the Bald Mountings," says she, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Dum cold place ! " says I. 
 
 "It is," says she; "very cold at the 
 Mounting." 
 
 "Walked?" says I. 
 
 " Yessir all the way," says she. 
 
 " Been workin' out ? " says I. 
 
 " No goin' to," says she. 
 
 " Hard times at the Mountain ? " I 
 says. 
 
 "Awful hard," says she, and shivered. 
 Then I felt her shake all over. I looked 
 at her in the face. She wasn't bad-lookin' 
 by a jug full, but her lips was blue an' her 
 teeth was chatterin'. 
 
 " Great Scott ! ' 'says I, " you're freezin' 
 to death ! " 
 
 " I AM cold," says she. 
 
 I unwound the Scotch shawl from about 
 me, and biddin' her stand up, I wrapped 
 that shawl about her from her head to her 
 1 60
 
 THE COLD GIRL 
 
 knees. Then I gave her my inside pair 
 of mittens, and she looked more comfort 
 able. 
 
 I drove on for a few miles in silence, 
 and then inquired : 
 
 " Feelin' warmer ? " 
 
 " Fine an' warm now," says she. 
 
 I could see her eyes glistenin' above 
 the shawl. Over the hills we went, the 
 snow cracklin' like breakin' glass. Gosh ! 
 it was terrible cold ! How that girl had 
 endured to walk all the way from Bald 
 Mountain in a thin calico gown, with a 
 half-worn pair of mittens an' light boots, 
 was more'n I could tell. 
 
 " She's good grit," I thought, for she 
 sat there beside me an' would have frozen 
 stiff before sayin' she was cold. 
 
 " They grow good stock at the Bald 
 Mountain," I said to myself, and at that 
 moment my horse struck. In a second 
 he sprung forward, crazy with pain an' 
 fear. I saw my companion fly back over 
 the seat like a stone from a catapult. But 
 161
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 I had no time to think of her fate, for in 
 a moment more the cutter struck a pitch- 
 hole an' I found myself sprawlin' in the 
 snow. 
 
 I quickly pulled myself together an' 
 started back to look up my lady from 
 Bald Mountain. I didn't worry about 
 the horse. He'd prob'ly stop after he got 
 tired. 
 
 Now, say ! I don't want you to laugh, 
 for it really. was no laughin' matter. Re 
 member, the girl was poor an' was goin' 
 to work out. I did laugh, myself, I must 
 own ; but I hadn't oughter. 
 
 You know, she was all tied up in that 
 shawl, wound 'round an' 'round like a 
 'Gyptian mummy, her arms close to her 
 sides. 
 
 Well, when she was jerked back 
 wards out of the cutter she reversed, so to 
 speak, and come down head on, right into 
 the soft, fleecy snow, sinkin' in almost to 
 her knees. That was the condition in 
 which I found her. One foot hung down 
 162
 
 THE COLD GIRL 
 
 kinder helpless like, but the other stuck 
 up in the air there like a signal of distress, 
 and feebly twisted about. Darned if it 
 wasn't one of the comicalest things you 
 ever see ! There she was stuck like a 
 post in the snow, and it didn't take me 
 many seconds to get her out. 
 
 I just grabbed her 'bout the legs an' 
 yanked. She came out kerflop, but just 
 about smothered. She'd had on a straw 
 hat with a narrow rim an' one red feather, 
 and now all that was to be seen of this 
 hat was the rim, and this was about her 
 neck. 
 
 I stood her up an' dug the snow out 
 of her face an' hair. All the time I could 
 hear her mumblin' behind the shawl. 
 Then I unwound her, and no sooner was 
 her arms free than she grabbed that shawl, 
 and slammin' it down in the road, stamped 
 on it, her eyes flashin'. 
 
 "You villain!" she cried. "You did 
 it a-purpose ! " 
 
 " For the love of Heaven ! " says I, 
 163
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " be calm. What in the world is the 
 matter with you ? " 
 
 " You did it a-purpose ! " she fairly 
 yelled again. 
 
 " Did what a-purpose ? " says I. 
 
 " You villain ! " she snorted. " Wrap- 
 pin' me' round an' 'round with that shawl 
 just so I'd be throwed out an' make a 
 show of myself ! " 
 
 The joke of the thing struck me all of 
 a sudden. She thought I'd deliberately 
 upset her in the snow. I laughed aloud, 
 and this made her so mad that she fairly 
 danced. 
 
 " Where is my hat ? " she cried " where 
 is my feather ? " 
 
 I pointed to the rim about her neck. 
 This fresh disaster made her more 
 furious. 
 
 "Find my feather ! " she moaned. "Find 
 my pretty feather ! " 
 
 I crawled into the hole she made in the 
 snow bank, and after a bit rescued the 
 feather. She snatched it from my hand 
 164
 
 THE COLD GIRL 
 
 angrily. I tried to pacify her, but she 
 wouldn't have it. She wouldn't wear the 
 shawl. She threw my gloves at me, and 
 swore she'd freeze, but she would go no 
 further with me. 
 
 I saw it was no use, so I picked up my 
 poor shawl and gloves, and like the per 
 petrator of some great crime, slunk away 
 from offended innocence. The girl really 
 was a terrible fool. 
 
 I found my horse all right about a 
 quarter of a mile ahead he havin' been 
 stopped by a wood-sleigh. 
 
 About two years after that I happened 
 to be in Tweed one day, when a woman 
 with a broad grin on her face stopped me 
 on the street an' said : 
 
 " Don't you know who I be ? " 
 
 "You've got me there," says I. 
 
 " I'm the girl from Bald Mountings," 
 says she, showin' her teeth. 
 
 Say ! It's a caution what wonderful 
 teeth you'll find in the back townships. 
 
 "That may be," says I, " but I'm un-
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 acquainted with the aristocracy of that 
 locality," I says in a good-natured tone. 
 
 " Don't you remember the ride we had 
 that cold winter's day ?" says she, and 
 looked fair into my face. 
 
 It come to me like a flash. She watched 
 the smile come into my eyes, an' I re 
 membered the occasion. 
 
 " I thought you was pretty mad with 
 me," says I, with a grin. 
 
 " I was, for a long time," says she, 
 " but I made up my mind, after a bit, it 
 wasn't your fault, and that you was really 
 very kind to me." 
 
 " How did you ever get out of there 
 alive?" says I. 
 
 " I did freeze my ears," she says, " but 
 I footed it all the way." 
 
 "Workin' here?" I inquired. 
 
 " No, I'm married now," says she, with 
 out the least bashfulness. " My man 
 runs a livery stable, and he says he knows 
 you real well. When I told him, he 
 says : f Yes, I know George, everybody 
 1 66
 
 THE COLD GIRL 
 
 knows George. There ain't the least par 
 ticle of harm in George. He only likes 
 a good joke.' ' 
 
 Then I thought of that left foot twistin' 
 about in the air, and I come to the con 
 clusion that her man had sized me up 
 about right.
 
 The Calgary Poet 
 
 If there ever was a feller completely 
 lost in the world, it was a young chap I run 
 across out in Calgary, one Christmas week, 
 when I was snowed in there. 
 
 I was travellin' for a Montreal firm 
 then, and used to get 'round to Calgary 
 about once a year. A remarkable little 
 town is that, but a most terrible lonesome 
 place in which to be snowbound. 
 
 This young feller who I'm tellin' you 
 about was clerk in the post-office out there. 
 A tall, lanky, awkward chap he was, with 
 clear, big, brown eyes an' as pleasant a 
 face as you ever want to see. Me an' him 
 was friends the minute we set eyes on one 
 another, and every night after office hours 
 he'd come down to the hotel an' play 
 checkers with me for a while, and then 
 168
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 we'd drift into tellin' yarns about when 
 we was little fellers, for it was Christmas 
 week, you know, when one is always a bit 
 soft-hearted if he amounts to shucks in 
 the world, and, as it turned out, the post- 
 office chap was a farmer boy, too, born 
 an' raised in New Hampshire. How he 
 come to drift out to Calgary he never told 
 me, and I forgot to ask him. 
 
 Well, sir, I told him all about me an' 
 Ed an' Jane, and the fun we used to have 
 together, and he'd sit an' listen, them big 
 eyes of his drinkin' it all in. I never 
 told a yarn to any one who enjoyed it 
 more. 
 
 Ed, you know, died just when he'd come 
 to be a young man an' full of promise, 
 and when I told the chap about him, and 
 how he used to play the fiddle by the 
 hour an' make up fairy stories, his eyes 
 glistened a bit, and I kinder felt queer 
 myself. 
 
 Say ! You'd oughter known Ed. He 
 was all right. I've met many fellers up 
 169
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 an* down the country good an' bad 
 but I never met any one, man, woman or 
 child, that I liked as I did him. Father 
 an' mother an' Jane, they was all dear to 
 me ; but Ed well, now you know, I 
 can't just put it the way I want to. 
 
 You see, we was boys together on the 
 old farm, and us two kids was all there 
 was in the big world. We didn't know 
 nothin' about anybody else. The world 
 was made for us alone, and we roamed up 
 an' down the face of that farm, never darin' 
 to go beyond the line fence, (for father 
 had forbid us), just a-wonderin' and 
 a-findin' out. 
 
 You'd ought to a-heard Ed tellin' me 
 an' Jane about Hell. It would be on a 
 warm summer evenin', when the sun 
 went down red an' the three of us 'ud be 
 settin' on the rail fence at the head of the 
 lane, while the folks did the milkin'. He'd 
 begin soft an' shivery about the sun, and 
 would lead on to the judgment day when 
 Gabriel would blow his horn, and the 
 170
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 earth 'ud be burnt up an' the dead would 
 all stand before God the good people on 
 the right hand an' the bad people on the 
 left. Jane 'ud be blubberin' by this time, 
 but that was what Ed liked. Then he'd 
 have us in the lake of fire an' brimstone, 
 and describe the Old Boy standin' on the 
 brink, gnashin' his teeth at us, till even 
 he got scart himself, and we'd creep to the 
 house a-holdin' hands Jane in the mid 
 dle and hang 'round mother, not darin' 
 to go to bed in the dark. 
 
 My! What an imagination Ed did 
 have ! If he'd only lived, he'd made a name 
 for himself sure. There wasn't anything 
 one knew that the other didn't. We liked 
 the same things to eat, and what the one 
 had the other had to have, or there'd been 
 a row. 
 
 I remember once father brought me 
 home a pair of plug boots, with blue tops 
 an' copper toes, but I'll tell you about 
 that another time. We used to fight an' 
 quarrel between us, me an' Ed, but it 
 171
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 didn't take long to forget all about it. 
 When I got into dispute with the boys at 
 school I was a great feller for arguin' 
 about an' darin' 'em to do this an' that 
 before comin' to fists. I never really took 
 to fightin' at school, not bein' naturally 
 clever at it ; but Ed was a holy terror. 
 Just let a boy pitch into me, and he was 
 at him like a cat, cryin' to beat the band 
 an' smashin' right an' left. Why, he'd 
 lick a feller twice his size in two shakes 
 of a lamb's tail, he was that furious. There 
 wasn't anything to do but to run, and he 
 was such a little feller, too. 
 
 When we growed up we wasn't so com 
 municative to one another, but our hearts 
 was just the same, and when he died, 
 well, now you know, it just mellered me 
 down, and I've been a bit soft-hearted 
 ever since. 
 
 I run on just like this to the Calgary 
 
 chap, and he'd set an' listen just as I told 
 
 you. Well, one night I told him about 
 
 a time when father an' mother had gone 
 
 172
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 to prayer meetin' of a winter's night, and 
 me an' Ed an' Jane was left all alone, and 
 how Ed got out his riddle, which he dasn't 
 play when father was about, fiddles 
 bein' considered wicked, and played to 
 me an' Jane just whatever come in his 
 head. 
 
 Ed must certainly a-been a wonder with 
 the riddle, for, as I told this chap, one 
 time years after, when I was in Boston, I 
 went to hear a feller play who had the 
 name of bein' the crack fiddler of the 
 world. And he was an almighty good 
 player, too, but he couldn't make the 
 fiddle talk the way Ed could. Jane could 
 back me up in this. Why say! When 
 he'd shut his eyes an' play " Robin 
 Adair," your soul 'ud go right out of 
 you, and you'd wake up when he was 
 done with your mouth wide open. 
 
 The next evenin', after we'd played a 
 few games of checkers, my Calgary friend 
 took a piece of paper from his pocket an' 
 handed it to me, kinder sheepish like.
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " It's about Ed's playin' to you an' 
 Jane," he said. 
 
 I took the paper an' glanced it over. 
 It was poetry, done in a neat, round hand, 
 as plain as print. Here's the identical 
 piece in my pocket-book now. Kind of 
 rusty, ain't it? but it's his writin', just 
 as he put the words down in his bedroom 
 that night in Calgary. 
 
 THE LITTLE FIDDLE ED PLAYED ON 
 
 Sarsarty was the fiddler's name, 
 An' he could play, 
 Well, I should say ! 
 'Twas a whole circus an' a shinny game 
 
 To hear him make that fiddle talk, 
 An' laugh an' cry's if like to die; 
 
 He made it dance, he made it walk, 
 He made it sing, he made it sigh ; 
 He sent the notes clear up to Mary, 
 An' then way down to the Old Harry; 
 He knew no doubt what he was about; 
 
 He fairly set me cryin' once, 
 An' then he made me laugh right out 
 
 I felt as sheepish as a dunce. 
 But arter all is said an' done 
 
 Arter all the fine notes he 'ud take 
 'Twan't no sech music's Ed 'ud make 
 
 With the little fiddle he played on. 
 
 174
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 That was the cutest little fiddle ! 
 It was as black 
 As a factory stack 
 It allers seemed ter me a riddle 
 
 Where all them pretty sounds 'ud stay, 
 They was so sweet, so shy, so neat; 
 
 An' then the way that Ed 'ud play ! 
 There wa'n't nobody but 'ud say, 
 
 When round the dancers gaily went, 
 " Tip 'm the wink an' he could beat 
 
 The man as made the instrument." 
 It was delicious jes' to feel 
 The bow a-tunin' off a reel 
 Back an' for'ard, toe an' heel, 
 Your eye a-dancin' with your feet, 
 Your partner lookin' flushed an' sweet; 
 Not a false step, not a break, 
 Sech was the music Ed 'ud make 
 
 With the little fiddle he played on. 
 
 But in the chimney-corner, home 
 A winter night, 
 By candle light, 
 The sweetest music seemed to come. 
 
 You'd hear the water laughin', dancin', 
 The birds 'ud sing, the sleigh-bells ring; 
 
 You'd fairly see the horses prancin', 
 An' then so low, so sweet an' slow, 
 
 You'd hear the fairies in the air 
 
 A-singin' to 'emselves up there 
 A verse each time he drawed the bow; 
 
 An' Jane an' me, aside his knee, 
 'Ud sit an' cry an' laugh together, 
 
 An' watch the flickerin' in the fire, 
 
 175
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 An' speculate an' wonder whether 
 
 The angels in the holy choir, 
 From their gold harps sech notes 'ud shake, 
 As the lovely music Ed 'ud make 
 
 With the little fiddle he played on. 
 
 'Tain't real awful bad, is it? You 
 know, I don't show this to many people, 
 for they wouldn't appreciate it, not know- 
 in' Ed an' his style of playin'; but you'll 
 understand. Now, I ain't no poet, or 
 ever expect to be, and I don't know good 
 from bad, but this here bit of paper is 
 gold and diamonds to me, for that Calgary 
 feller just saw right into my heart, and 
 put down on paper feelin's I could never 
 express. Here's another. I'll show you 
 this, seein' as you liked the first. 
 
 I WANT TER GO BACK HOME 
 
 The city's way ain't mine, nor it wa'n't Ed's way, neither, 
 The air here never smelt a bit home-like to either; 
 Fer Ed, you know, an' me was farmer boys, an' grew 
 Where the old New England hills stare right up through 
 The topsa'l clouds at Heaven. We lads was brothers, 
 Never knew a wrangle, fer what was one's was t'others; 
 An' when hard luck an' taxes jes' driv us off the land, 
 We went right out'n the world, a-hand a-holt o' hand. 
 
 I 7 6
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 We knocked about consi'drable, but only fer a spell, 
 An' I'd jes' a-got a-thinkin' 'at all was goin' well, 
 When Ed well, Ed he sez to me "George, come ! 
 " I want ter go back home ! " 
 
 Ed was a han'some feller's ever you'd wish to see; 
 Eyes and hair's black's a coal, and figger straight's a tree. 
 Two years younger'n me an' everyone took to him quick, 
 If gittin' loved ain't nat'ral, Ed sartainly knew the trick. 
 But he worked too hard an' went completely down in a 
 
 heap; 
 
 Couldn't eat nor nothin', 'ud wake so quick in his sleep 
 An' set bolt up, while his eyes 'ud wildly roam, 
 'S he'd say "George," he'd say, so wistful like to me, 
 " I want ter go back home ! " 
 
 What's a feller to do with his brother a-sayin' that 
 
 In the pleadin'est kind o' way? I could only gently pat 
 
 His hot head with my hand, for I knowed (an' it hurt me 
 
 sore), 
 It wa'n't no use to say a word there wa'n't no home no 
 
 more ! 
 
 The typhoid fever had 'im, he didn't know none he see; 
 He'd call his friends queer names, but allers say George 
 
 to me. 
 I never left him a minit, though it hurt clean through to 
 
 hear 
 
 The way he'd keep a talkin' 'bout old times held so dear, 
 An' things I'd haft fergotten, an' ev'ry once an' awhile 
 His eyes 'ud snap an' sparkle he'd grab my hand an' 
 
 smile 
 The beseechin'est smile, as he'd say "Come ! George, 
 
 come ! 
 
 " I want ter go back home ! " 
 
 I 77
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Sometimes right in the night he'd wake me out o' a drowse; 
 "Git ready, George," he'd say, "we must be fetchin' the 
 
 cows; 
 
 "Chokecherries's ripe's you'd wish 'em up erlong the lane; 
 "The cows ain't fer away I kin hear old Mulley plain, 
 " A-ringin' her bell. I'll run you from here to the 
 
 shed." 
 Then I'd drop plum down at his side an' cry, " Fer God's 
 
 sake, Ed, 
 " Let up, er you'll break my heart ! " But he didn't know 
 
 a thing. 
 "I hate this water," he'd say. "Fetch me a drink from 
 
 the spring, 
 
 " Er a cup o' Limeback's milk I see the rich cream foam. 
 " Say ! George what are we stayin' here for ? 
 " I want ter go back home ! " 
 
 He jes' went down by inches; I knowed he had to go, 
 An' I braced myself to meet it, though a -man's but a man, 
 
 you know. 
 Say ! What's the love o' Heaven, when all is done an' 
 
 said, 
 
 'Side o' the love o' brothers who've allers had one bed ? 
 He went quite suddint at last; he was talkin' the same old 
 
 way, 
 
 'Bout helpin' me cut the wood so's both o' us could play; 
 When his face lit up the sweetes' I ever hope to see, 
 An' he squeezed my hand an' "George," he says to me 
 "The pussy willer's blossomin', the egg plum's all erblow; 
 " Red-finned suckers in the creek's all o' 'em on the go; 
 " Same old robin's buildin' her nest in the silver maple's 
 
 limb; 
 " I long to git my boots off an' go in fer a swim; 
 
 I 7 8
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 "Listen them birds tweedlin! how splendid fresh an' 
 
 sweet 
 "Them lilacs smell ! I swan if that there bob-o-link don't 
 
 beat 
 
 " The grandes' choir fer music !" An' then he riz an' threw 
 Himself right in my arms. "Oh, George," he says, "it's 
 
 you ! 
 
 " I hear the bells a-ringin' in the old church dome 
 " I want ter go back home ! " 
 
 It's many a year since I buried Ed a-side o' dad an' mam; 
 I've tried to fit these new ways, but I am jes' what I am. 
 These songs I hear ain't ha'f 's sweet's what the birds 'ud 
 
 sing, 
 
 I want ter smell them lilacs, I want a drink from the spring; 
 I want ter hear the water laugh in the rapids in the creek, 
 I want ter see old "Darb " ag'in, so lazy, fat an' slick; 
 I want ter hear the wind at night a-sobbin' thro' the trees, 
 I want ter feel complete erlone, with God 's all who sees; 
 I want ter see them graves up there, as placid as their dead, 
 I want ter say my prayers ag'in an' go to bed with Ed. 
 Fer my heart's up there in the hills, no odds how fur I roam 
 I want ter go back home ! 
 
 This is my favorite, and you can better 
 believe it struck a tender spot in my heart. 
 
 I met a feller once in the train between 
 Toronto and Winnipeg, and got to talkin' 
 with him. He was a college professor 
 down at McGill in Montreal, and thinkin' 
 he would be a good judge of poetry, I 
 179
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 showed him them two pieces an' asked 
 his opinion, not sayin' a word of my con 
 nection with 'em. 
 
 "Well," says he, " the woods is full of 
 this kind of stuff maudlin sentiment. 
 Give a man," says he, " a soft heart an' a 
 woman's liver, and he'll flood the press 
 with this kind of poetry." 
 
 I felt kinder taken back, but I kept my 
 temper an' asked him: 
 
 " What kind of poetry is good poetry ? " 
 says I. 
 
 " Good poetry," says he," " is beautiful 
 and artistic conceptions expressed in pol 
 ished English." You see, I remember it 
 word for word. " Good poetry," says he, 
 goin' on, " is divine an inspiration to the 
 cultivated mind. This stuff," says he, 
 handin' me back my poor verses, " is just 
 silly gush." 
 
 Say ! That was a staggerer to me, and 
 
 I thought he had me. But when I got 
 
 to Winnipeg I set down in my own room 
 
 an' hauled out the poetry an' read it over 
 
 1 80
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 careful. " Blame ! " says I, to myself, "it 
 reads smooth enough an' it certainly was 
 just as everything happened." And I 
 made up my mind then an' there that the 
 poetry, or the paintin', or the scenery 
 that touched your heart an' made a better 
 man of you was good enough for me, and 
 that I'd stick by my Calgary poet through 
 thick and thin. 
 
 You can see for yourself that every line 
 means somethin'. He's worked in a lot 
 of the stuff I told him, and some parts 
 ain't strictly true. For instance, in the 
 first verse he says, " Where the old 
 New England hills," an' so forth. We 
 was Canada boys, me an' Ed, and I asked 
 him why he " worked " in " New Eng 
 land." 
 
 " Well," says he, " I got the idea in 
 my head of the hills stickin' their noses 
 up through the clouds, and I wanted to 
 work it in. There ain't any high hills 
 where you was born, but New England is 
 full of 'em. Then I wanted the New 
 181
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 England hills in any way, George," he 
 says, kind of grinnin' foolish like, " for I 
 was born up in North Conway, and I 
 kinder like to celebrate them old mount 
 ains when I get a chance." 
 
 Here's the only other piece he wrote 
 for me. He struck it off right under my 
 nose in about ten minutes. 
 
 DURIN' P'TRACTED MEETIN' 
 
 Down in Carterville las' winter 
 You know old Ebenezer Snider ? 
 
 Nose on 'im jes' 's sharp's a splinter, 
 Color o' nine-y'ar apple cider; 
 
 Good preacher, though, 's ever you see, 
 
 Sound at heart 's a white oak tree. 
 
 Wall, to the p'int: As I was sayin', 
 Eb was holdin' p'tracted meetin'; 
 
 Had the hull district singin' an' prayin', 
 An' gittin' converted. " Time was fleetin' 
 
 Fast," he said, " 's a blue-winged pigeon," 
 
 'S he hustled 'em up ter git religion. 
 
 You know Jed Pringle's second daughter 
 Bethilda? gal with sparklin' eyes ? 
 
 Stout 's Jane, but a little shorter, 
 Bang-up cook on cakes an' pies. 
 
 Likelies' gal 'n the place, it's said, 
 
 Face an' figger 'way ahead. 
 
 182
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 Bethilda she sot 'mong the seekers, 
 
 I sot over agin the wall; 
 But Lord ! she couldn't keep them peckers 
 
 O' her'n from wand'rin' 'round at all. 
 Thar wa'n't 'nought else 's I could see 
 Them eyes they jes' converted me. 
 
 First thing I knowed I was sittin' 
 'Side o' Bet on the pen'tent seat; 
 
 'Tain't twice 'n a life a feller's gittin' 
 So strong a call from eyes so sweet. 
 
 Conviction er love, no matter whether, 
 
 Bethilda an' I driv home together. 
 
 Stars out bright an' moon a-beamin', 
 Snow on the ground a-dazzlin' white; 
 
 Clouds hangin' low in the west a-dreamin', 
 Never see a perfecter night. 
 
 So pure was the earth an' sky above, 
 
 You couldn't resist a-talkin' love. 
 
 Give me a hoss as feels his feedin', 
 Head right up an' feet a-flyin' ; 
 
 A hoss 's won't disgrace his breedin', 
 Trot ter win if he was dyin' ; 
 
 A hoss 's don't need much command, 
 
 So's a feller kin drive with jes' one hand. 
 
 " Wall," I sez, "Bethilda Bet," sez I, 
 
 A-feelin' my way each word, you see, 
 An' puttin' a p'int ter all, so sly : 
 " S'pose you allers ride home with me ? " 
 Heard the man chuckle in the moon, 
 As she whisper'd, "Jim, I'd jes' as soon."
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 The same old story jes' the same, 
 
 Said in 'bout the same old way; 
 But Eb he says it's a 'tarnal shame 
 
 We didn't go for'ard from that day. 
 Lost religion bad ter do it 
 But we got married an' that's next to it. 
 
 Did you ever hear the like of that ! It's 
 old Ebenezer Snider to the life. Bethilda 
 Pringle was the girl's name. I used to 
 go to school with her. She was a beauty 
 all right, and as full of the old scratch as 
 the next one. Jim Vandewater is the 
 feller who married her, and a dum good 
 husband he made her, too. They're rich 
 now, yes, got a three hundred-acre farm 
 an' grown-up children. Bethilda an' Jim 
 was tickled to death when I showed 'em 
 this piece. Got a copy of it now in the 
 family Bible. 
 
 I tell you, that Calgary poet was cer 
 tainly lost in the world. I read the poetry 
 in the papers now an' then, and hope that 
 some time I'll run across his name at the 
 bottom of a piece. 
 
 Jackson, that was his name, Arthur 
 
 184
 
 THE CALGARY POET 
 
 Jackson, Calgary, N. W. T. Did you 
 ever see it ? No ? Well, I wish you had, 
 for that feller had a heart in him an' a 
 love of fun, and was as good a checker 
 player as I ever run up against.
 
 The Willipers at Newport 
 
 The most remarkable thing about a 
 Rhode Island summer is the fact that the 
 Sundays are, with rare exceptions, days of 
 ideal beauty. It may rain on Saturday 
 or on Monday, but on Sunday we expect 
 to find a warm sun come out of the sea to 
 the east of Block Island, followed by a 
 gentle and invigorating breeze that is fully 
 charged with vital gases. 
 
 It was on one of these golden Sundays 
 that Little Jack Williper took his father 
 and mother to Newport to see the sights 
 and incidentally to enjoy the sail on the 
 " Day Star." 
 
 Little Jack Williper had an imagina 
 tion; his parents had none. This, of 
 course, was owing to the fact that Nature 
 was compelled to bestow upon Little Jack 
 186
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 some wonderful gift to even up matters, 
 for she had made a sad mess of his body, 
 which was long where it should be short, 
 and flat where it should be round. He 
 had used crutches ever since he could 
 hold himself upright, and like all lame 
 children he made the most of his oppor 
 tunities, and could get over the ground 
 by means of these wooden legs at a sur 
 prisingly rapid gait. His face was a study 
 in interrogation points ; his eyes constantly 
 asked questions ; the mouth, the ears 
 in fact, every line in his face curved into a 
 query. He was now sixteen years old 
 (looking twelve), and sought knowledge, 
 principally concerning kings, princes, 
 dukes, and other gentlemen of title. This 
 was owing to the course of reading he had 
 taken, for when a mere child he had read a 
 story about Peter the Great, and had been 
 so fascinated with it that his constant re 
 quest to his father for years had been to 
 bring to him from the Public Library, 
 books about the nobility. 
 
 187
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 In consequence. Little Jack had an ex 
 alted idea of life far beyond his station, 
 for his father was a "dresser tender" in a 
 cotton mill, a place where men work the 
 year round in an atmosphere no degrees 
 above zero, for 110.50 a week. His 
 mother had been a spooler tender in the 
 same mill, but since the birth of Little 
 Jack she had ceased being a "new woman," 
 and now did nothing outside save the 
 sewing of "ready-made garments " for the 
 " cheapest clothing house on earth." Mrs. 
 Williper knew thoroughly the sound 
 economic principle that to sell cheap one 
 must buy cheap, and that to work for the 
 " cheapest clothing house on earth," 
 " benefactors of the masses," etc., meant 
 36 cents a day, at most 40. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, the home in 
 which Little Jack lived with his father 
 and mother never seemed to him the least 
 bit mean or squalid. He never remem 
 bered when there were no odds and ends 
 of shoddy scattered over the floor, and 
 188
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 unwashed dishes sitting on the table, for 
 Mrs. Williper, being bred to a spooler 
 and subsequently post -graduated at a 
 sewing machine, had not found oppor 
 tunity to cultivate housewifery, after the 
 traditional New England fashion. 
 
 Little Jack had a special chair by 
 his own window, in which sat three half- 
 starved geraniums, which annually brought 
 forth as many more fragile flowers after 
 severe travail. In this window seat he 
 read his stories of kings, etc., sometimes 
 to himself, but more often to his mother, 
 who pretended to be delighted, and 
 actually became interested in exciting 
 places if Little Jack warned her in advance 
 that something good was coming. And 
 when he was not reading he sat in his 
 window and thought, the result being that 
 he quickly evolved an imaginative world, 
 in which diamonds and gold were as stones 
 are, and where ermine and purple and fine 
 laces were the common garments of the 
 day. He knew well every emperor or 
 189
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 king, from Solomon to young Alexandria 
 of Servia. He had wallowed in the " De 
 cline and Fall of the Roman Empire" 
 during his fourteenth and fifteenth years ; 
 and so great was his exaltation of spirit 
 after reading the resonant Gibbonian 
 record of some stirring event, that at times 
 his mother would declare that his face 
 fairly shone. 
 
 It was a handsome young man, with a 
 Great Dane at his heels, who had given 
 Little Jack Williper the five dollars, on 
 the strength of which he had invited his 
 parents to see Newport with him. This 
 handsome young man, with the hand 
 somer dog, had no excuse but idleness for 
 walking through the little lane leading off 
 Bull Dog Square, where the Willipers 
 lived, and where he found Little Jack 
 seated on the doorstep, reading. 
 
 The peculiar and complete deformity 
 
 of the child attracted him, and he stopped 
 
 a moment to inquire what he was reading. 
 
 It was Carlyle's " Frederick the Great," 
 
 190
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 and Little Jack, hearing the request of 
 this elegant young man, immediately gave 
 a twitch to his face, which screwed into 
 one symmetrical note of interrogation, and 
 asked : 
 
 " Do you really think f Frederick the 
 Great ' was a bigger man than Napoleon 
 Bonaparte ? " 
 
 " Love of God ! " cried the strange 
 young man, who straightway put his hand 
 in his vest pocket, and finding a five-dol 
 lar note, handed it to Little Jack with the 
 remark : " Throw that rot away, sonny, 
 and go down the river and breathe the 
 fresh air. The book is too old for you." 
 
 " But was he ? " persisted Little Jack. 
 
 " Damned if I know," replied the young 
 man, as he and the Great Dane continued 
 their way. 
 
 There are a dozen or so seats on the 
 deck of the " Day Star " forward, which 
 are extra choice. Three of these seats 
 were secured by the Willipers, by follow 
 ing the example of the early bird. Little 
 191
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Jack sat in the middle, with his father and 
 mother, looking really grand in their Sun 
 day best, on either side of him. 
 
 Williper Pere was especially worthy of 
 notice from the fact that he looked entirely 
 happy, and yet not one single article of 
 his clothing fitted him. His coat sleeves 
 were too short ; his trousers suffered from 
 the same affliction ; his collar was too big 
 and his necktie roosted high. His face 
 was white as chalk, consequent on the no 
 degrees, and his hands had been dyed so 
 many times that they were now a com 
 posite shade, most nearly like old gold. 
 Nevertheless this man Williper was a 
 trusted employee, a kind and loving hus 
 band and father, a man of great sympa 
 thies, sober and industrious, but wholly 
 ignorant. He was perfectly satisfied with 
 his position in the world and with his 
 family, and the world was as fully satis 
 fied with him. Williper Pere was a grand 
 success. 
 
 Little Jack had been to Crescent Park 
 192
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 and Rocky Point a number of times with 
 his parents, and he had enjoyed the 
 ravishing delights of those beautiful shore 
 resorts, where all is fairyland for good 
 people and children, and all tawdryness 
 and debauchery for those who are neither 
 young nor good. But his soul yearned 
 for Newport, the city of palaces, the home 
 of princes and the Mecca of millionaires. 
 Neither his father nor mother had ever 
 visited Newport, so they were also much 
 interested in its possibilities. Then they 
 had five dollars to spend, every cent of it 
 to be dissipated before the return to Bull 
 Dog Square, as per previous solemn 
 agreement. 
 
 Williper Mere had bought peanuts, 
 freshly baked. The " Day Star " had not 
 reached Field's Point before she brought 
 the aforesaid peanuts from a wonderful 
 bag which she always carried with her 
 when she went great distances from home, 
 like to the Public Market, to Shepard's, 
 or " Down the Bay." This bag held 
 
 193
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 lunch, popcorn, four apples, and the pea 
 nuts. Little Jack liked peanuts, so did 
 his mother and father, and so did every 
 man, woman and child on the steamer; for 
 soon above the roar of the machinery 
 could be heard that ponderous crunching 
 incident to 2,000 pairs of jaws coming to 
 gether upon 2,000 peanuts at the same 
 instant. Peanuts are the especial delight 
 of Rhode Islanders. Clams have their 
 season, so likewise have frost fish and 
 blueberries, but peanuts are perennial. 
 
 When the peanuts were consumed, the 
 Willipers ate their lunch and the four 
 apples, saving the popcorn for the beach. 
 Incidentally they admired the scenery. 
 
 There is only one living creature which 
 has a greater admiration for nature, ex 
 pressed in silence through the eyes, than the 
 city wage-earner, and that is the cow, who, 
 having eaten of the green grass as much 
 as she desires, chews her cud and dream 
 ily looks out upon the fields with love 
 and adoration. The workingman is less 
 194
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 demonstrative than the cow, but he cer 
 tainly enjoys much. 
 
 As the " Day Star" glided past Nayatt 
 and Prudence, Williper Pere absorbed all 
 the beauty of the scene, munched his pea 
 nuts, and occasionally looked into the eyes 
 of his wife. But he said no words. A 
 highly educated man, seeing for the first 
 time the wonderful beauties of Narragan- 
 sett Bay thus unrolled, would have talked 
 admiringly and entertainingly all the while 
 to his companions, dilating on this and 
 that especial charm. Beauty, like an elec 
 tric shock, goes through such a man, ex 
 hilarating every nerve for the moment. 
 Williper Pere and the cow hold fast to 
 impressions, and their lives are molded 
 thereby. 
 
 Arriving at Newport, the Willipers 
 found seats in a large 'bus, whose driver 
 agreed to take his patrons, for a modest 
 fee, the entire ten-mile drive, and inci 
 dentally to point out all the chief points 
 of interest. 
 
 '95
 
 Little Jack was in raptures, but strange 
 to say, they had no sooner reached Belle- 
 vue avenue, with its marble palaces and 
 magnificent cottages, than his heart fell. 
 He expected something far grander. Here 
 was a city, and Little Jack had his mind 
 made up to deer-stocked parks, in the 
 midst of which stood immense baronial 
 halls with towers and battlements. There 
 were to be ponds with white swans floating 
 upon them, and princes and princesses 
 playing about, with their tutors and nurses 
 standing guardian near at hand. Instead, 
 here were only great houses set in closely- 
 cropped lawns, with men and women 
 seated on the piazzas reading the Sunday 
 papers, just as they do everywhere. 
 
 Here and there they passed elegant 
 equippages containing beautifully gowned 
 ladies on their way home from the morn 
 ing service at church, and they were told 
 that such and such a carriage belonged to 
 so and so and cost so much ; that the 
 owner possessed many millions and had 
 196
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 a yacht now lying at anchor in the harbor. 
 
 Suddenly, however, their loquacious 
 driver turned, and holding his hand to the 
 left of his mouth, whispered hoarsely : 
 
 " Keep your eyes on that little red 
 headed cuss in the next turnout we pass 
 him with the girl in white lollin' beside 
 'im, that's the king of Saxonia." 
 
 " Stop the 'bus ! " yelled Little Jack 
 Williper with a shrill scream, as he 
 struggled frantically to get to his feet. 
 
 But the carriage containing the king 
 and his fair companion had dashed by 
 them, and all Little Jack could see was a 
 glimmer of red hair and a white hand 
 resting on a gold-headed cane. And from 
 that day to this all kings in his imagina 
 tion have red hair and carry golden- 
 crowned walking sticks. He was naturally 
 much disappointed because he had not got 
 a better view of so exalted a personage, 
 and the driver's further remark that "dukes 
 and princes was thick as flies at milkin' 
 time," did not mollify him. He wanted 
 197
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 to know an hundred things at once. 
 " What was this king's name ? where was 
 Saxonia, and what was he doing here ? " 
 
 The driver replied good-naturedly in 
 the picturesque language of the handsome 
 young man with the Great Dane who had 
 one day strayed into Bull Dog Square, 
 and turning to his horses, showed that as 
 far as he was concerned the incident was 
 closed. 
 
 After the drive the Willipers had lunch 
 with ice cream in an English tea room 
 on Bellevue avenue, which Williper Mere 
 enjoyed immensely, and then they all 
 went over to the beach, Little Jack rack 
 ing along like a tin soldier, looking each 
 moment as if he would go all to pieces. 
 The bathers interested them ever so much, 
 and they sat on the sand and munched 
 their popcorn with delight. Little Jack 
 would have it that the bathers were 
 all of the nobility, and offered to bet his 
 father and mother many times without 
 naming the stakes that such and such a 
 198
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 one was a king or a duke. He set his 
 mind beyond argument on the fact that 
 one plump, well-formed young lady must 
 be a princess of the blood from the fact 
 that she had red hair and the skin of her 
 arms was snow white. 
 
 "She's a reigning princess, I'm sure, 
 mother," he would say, and kept direct 
 ing that parent's attention to her con 
 stantly. 
 
 Presently the fair princess left the water 
 and came directly toward them, a smile of 
 greeting in her eyes. 
 
 " Look ! mother, look ! " cried Little 
 Jack. " She's coming our way ! " 
 
 " Why, bless my soul, if it ain't Sarah 
 Kelley's girl Mamie ! " cried Mrs. Willi- 
 per, whose vision had been weakened by 
 her post graduate course. 
 
 "Hello, Mrs. Williper," said the 
 princess, standing before them and shaking 
 the water from her hair. "How on earth 
 did you ever come to get 'way down 
 here ? " 
 
 199
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 "Little Jack fetched me an' father," 
 replied the mother, " with the money the 
 gentleman gave him. But, do you know 
 what, Mamie?" 
 
 "Don't! mother, don't!" pleaded 
 Little Jack, tugging at her sleeve. 
 
 " Well, I won't, dear I won't tell her 
 if you mind," his mother replied, sooth 
 ingly. 
 
 "What was it, Mrs. Williper?" the 
 wet princess inquired with considerable 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Little Jack minds so I won't tell you 
 that he spotted you for a real princess, 
 'cause you have red hair." 
 
 The cripple looked very sheepish at this 
 unexpected betrayal of a family confidence, 
 but the girl took it far from unkindly. She 
 reached down, and with her plump hand 
 patted Little Jack on the cheek. 
 
 " He knows a thing or two that kid," 
 she said. " Don't you mind, Little Jack. 
 I'm as good as the best of them." 
 
 " Where be you workin' now, Mamie ? " 
 200
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 inquired Mrs. Williper, offering the young 
 lady the bag of popcorn. 
 
 "Over to Olneyville, to Fletcher's," 
 she replied. " I lost my job at the shoe 
 string business, and have gone back to the 
 loom." 
 
 "You're too gay for your pay, I'm 
 afraid," said Mr. Williper, solemnly. 
 
 " I intend to have a good time while 
 I'm young and alive," replied the girl, de 
 fiantly. " We'll all be long enough in 
 the churchyard. But my mother was a 
 good woman before me, as you well 
 know, Mrs. Williper, you an' she havin' 
 wound at the same spooler, and I intend 
 to be a good woman, too." 
 
 " Said well ! said well ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Williper almost with enthusiasm. " Fol 
 low your mother's steps, Mamie, and 
 you'll win out." 
 
 "You ain't married yet or nothin ? " 
 queried Mrs Williper. 
 
 " Not yet, nor ever intend to be," was 
 the sharp answer. "The man don't live as 
 
 201
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 can have me work for him. I make my 
 own money and I spend it myself. I'd 
 look pretty tied to any of the men I 
 know!" 
 
 " Married life might be worse, Mamie, 
 it might be worse," said Mrs. Williper, 
 soothingly. " See me an' father now, and 
 how happy we be; and then we've got 
 Little Jack here, the pride of our eyes an' 
 comfort always." 
 
 "You're all right all three of you, and 
 many's the good word I've heard of you ; 
 but I'll take no chances on marryin'." 
 
 " It's a caution to me how you keep 
 yourself so well and handsome," Mrs. 
 Williper said, after a bit, looking up with 
 admiration at the finely formed girl before 
 her. 
 
 " It comes natural, I suppose," replied 
 the princess of the loom. " The Lord 
 knows I get little chance to groom 
 myself, and weaving is not a job to sigh 
 for in these times ; but I think the tramp 
 over to Olneyville from Smith's Hill in the 
 202
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 morning does me good and fills my lungs 
 with fresh air for the day. Then on Sun 
 days I come down here or to " Crescent" 
 and have a glorious bath. Oh, how good 
 it feels ! It's just the same as if I was a 
 real princess, Little Jack." 
 
 " You've got the red hair and the white 
 arms, anyhow," said the cripple, with an 
 old-fashioned smile. 
 
 When Mamie had returned to take a 
 final plunge in the surf, the Willipers 
 journeyed back to Bellevue avenue and 
 watched the fine ladies and gentlemen 
 drive up and down in their carriages. They 
 stood on a corner so that Little Jack 
 might have a lamp-post to lean against, 
 and found much pleasure in the gay pan 
 orama before them. 
 
 After a silence of some time Williper 
 Pere broke forth earnestly: 
 
 " I'm danged, mother," he said, " if 
 there's a girl in the hull lot we've seen as 
 can hold a candle to Sarah Kelley's girl 
 Mamie." 
 
 203
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Just then a gentleman who was passing, 
 seeing Little Jack, paused, and pointing 
 to him, inquired of Mr. Williper : 
 
 " Your son ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Does he suffer much ? " 
 
 " None at all, 'cept for readin' matter." 
 
 " How strange." 
 
 An embarrassing pause, during which 
 Mrs. Williper looked indignant. 
 
 " Did he fall ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " How did he come so, may I ask ? " 
 
 " Born so." 
 
 " Dear me, dear me ; and you say he's 
 happy ? " 
 
 " Happy all the time, 'specially when 
 readin' about kings and things." 
 
 "Well I declare! Good day, sir." 
 
 The gentleman raised his hat politely 
 to Mrs. Williper, which mollified her at 
 once, and passed on. 
 
 Father and mother looked question- 
 ingly into each other's eyes until Little 
 204
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 Jack laid all doubts at rest by saying: 
 
 "Wasn't it funny that he should ask 
 whether I'm ever unhappy and you both 
 here ! " 
 
 The sail home was delightful, rendered 
 more so because Mamie Kelley joined 
 them on the boat and insisted on staying 
 with them so she might hear Little Jack 
 tell about the queens and princesses he 
 had met in his travels through the Public 
 Library. 
 
 It was just supper time when they 
 reached home, and after the dishes were 
 cleared away and Mr. Williper had filled 
 his pipe and gone to sleep an inevitable 
 occurrence Little Jack talked over the 
 events of the day with his mother, wind 
 ing up with the remark: 
 
 "Anyhow, mother, I've got a real king 
 to think about, and Mamie Kelley'll da 
 for a princess till I find a better."
 
 The Willipers at the Pier 
 
 Ever since Little Jack Williper's Sun 
 day excursion to Newport with his parents, 
 on which occasion the five dollar bill 
 given him by the fine young gentleman 
 with the finer Great Dane, who had strayed 
 into Bull Dog Square had been ruth 
 lessly consumed to the last penny, it had 
 been the ambition of Williper Pere, Wil- 
 liper Mere and Little Jack to visit Narra^ 
 gansett Pier and gaze upon the magnificent 
 hotels there situated, and behold that 
 celebrated crescent beach where ladies 
 bathed in white kid slippers and ballroom 
 finery, and money flowed like water. 
 
 Mamie Kelley, the beautiful weaver, 
 whom, it will be remembered, Little Jack 
 mistook at Newport for a princess, be 
 cause she had red hair and her arms and 
 206
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 face were so plump and white, was inclined 
 to doubt that ladies ever bathed in white 
 kid slippers. 
 
 "Ah, forgit it," she had said to Willi- 
 per Mere, one warm night, when she sat 
 with the Williper family on the doorstep 
 of their tenement and sweltered in the 
 hot air which slid up the alley from the 
 Square. " They wear kid slippers I 
 don't think ! Little Jack has been fillin' 
 you up with stories out of his books." 
 
 " Oh, I swear to goodness, Mamie," 
 Little Jack had cried, " I read it true and 
 honest in the paper. Yes, and some of 
 'em wear corsets, too sure's you're born, 
 Mamie. I saw a picture of it, too." 
 
 Little Jack's positiveness had aroused 
 the curiosity of even the phlegmatic 
 princess, and it was decided then and 
 there that a trip to the Pier should be 
 enjoyed as soon as circumstances would 
 permit. 
 
 Now, Newport is common to the alley 
 population of Providence, and Easton's 
 207
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Beach has done its fair share in the civili 
 zation of the " Great Unwashed." The 
 eyes of Jean Baptiste Grandmaison, mule 
 spinner from Manville ; of John 'Enry 
 'Oldsworth, weaver of Olneyville; of 
 Michael Angelo Papiti, banana incubator 
 of Federal Hill ; of Jerry Finnerty, truck 
 man of Fox Point, had looked unabashed 
 into the eyes of Vanderbilts, Astors and 
 foreign diplomats and princes many times 
 on Bellevue avenue, and the possessors 
 of said first mentioned eyes had returned 
 home more satisfied with themselves, 
 having discovered that a millionaire and 
 even a prince is only a man, generally not 
 so well set up a man, either, as he who 
 exercises daily in the gymnasium of toil. 
 
 But Narragansett Pier is a far-away land, 
 a wonderful spot not to be gazed upon by 
 common mortals. No boat then ran from 
 Providence to the Pier. Jean, John, 
 Michael and Jerry are not desired at the 
 Pier, and it had been made very difficult 
 for these friends and fellow citizens to 
 208
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 indulge in such a trip, even though Nar- 
 ragansett was only a trifle further away 
 than Newport. A railroad runs from 
 Providence to the Pier, but it costs $1.50 
 to make the round trip thereon, and $1.50 
 is 1 5 per cent, on the weekly wage of the 
 average steady and clever laborer in Rhode 
 Island. It is a lot of money to those 
 who dwell in the stifling precincts of Bull 
 Dog Square, and the Willipers skinched 
 and saved religiously for six weeks before 
 they got together enough money to defray 
 the necessary expenses of the trip. But 
 when this was accomplished they immedi 
 ately became happy. One day of pleasure 
 was before them. What cared they for 
 months of privation ! 
 
 They chose a Thursday in August. It 
 was a lovely day. Williper Pere had got 
 a day off by hiring a loafing dresser tender 
 to take his place at an advance of 25 
 cents on his own pay. He was dressed 
 in his blacks, with the same old high- 
 roosting collar, and he looked just as 
 209
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 bleached out, as awkward and as stolid as 
 when we saw him on the " Day Star." 
 Williper Mere, however, wore a new 
 gown. It had cost $4.87, ready made, 
 and fitted like a glove. At least the sales 
 lady had so informed her. To the casual 
 observer it was one of those high-up-in- 
 front and low-down-behind kind of dresses 
 which are apt to make one doubt whether 
 it is possible to fit the human female 
 figure by machinery. Little Jack looked 
 as usual. He was so crooked and twisted 
 by his deformity that none ever saw his 
 clothes. He sagged down in his crutches 
 and stood waiting for the train, perfectly 
 content with all things. Mamie Kelley, 
 who joined them at the depot, having 
 "flung her clothes on," as she described 
 it, caused Little Jack's eyes to brighten 
 immensely, for Mamie certainly had 
 " flung on " a white muslin gown most 
 artistically, and the morning sun in her 
 hair made it ripple like a golden sea. 
 Mamie made all her own clothes at odd 
 
 2IO
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 times after work hours, and the Lord 
 knows where she got her idea of style, 
 but she evidently got it from somewhere, 
 for she certainly knew how to look well. 
 It was owing in part, no doubt, to her 
 splendid figure and the graceful way she 
 handled herself. 
 
 Mamie sat with Little Jack in the train 
 and held his hand while he dilated on the 
 wonderful doings of a certain Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, of whom Mamie had never heard, 
 but concerning whom Little Jack had read 
 with much pleasure. 
 
 " I tell you she had a hard time of it," 
 Little Jack said, with a sigh. "They killed 
 every man she looked at, shet her up on 
 a lonesome island, and wound up by cut 
 ting her head off. I swanny some of them 
 old time kings and queens had no such 
 soft snap as we think. Her name was 
 Mary, just like your's," he added, after a 
 brief pause. " I wonder did they call her 
 Mamie." 
 
 Mamie Kelley laughed and patted the 
 211
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 cripple's hand. "You're always making 
 me out a princess or something, you 
 dreamy kid. What do I care for Mary 
 Scots? She's dead a long time, and here 
 I am and here we go 'way down to the 
 Pier to see all the rich people." 
 
 " Don't you ever wish to be rich, 
 Mamie ? " Little Jack inquired, looking 
 up into her eyes. 
 
 " You bet your life I do," was the 
 prompt reply. 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 " What would I do ? " The girl gazed 
 wistfully at the roof of the car. " I would 
 first have a beautiful home with a green 
 lawn around it, where I wouldn't have a 
 thing to do; then I'd have two new 
 dresses for every day in the month, then 
 I'd go to New York and see the sights." 
 The girl dropped her eyes and looked 
 down at her companion and laughed. 
 "Ah, fergit it," she said ; " aint it silly to 
 be a wishin'?" 
 
 Arriving at the Pier, the party made a 
 
 212
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 bee line for the bathing beach, and, seat 
 ing themselves upon the sand, watched 
 the bathers. There were probably two 
 hundred enjoying the surf that morning, 
 and sure enough Little Jack quickly dis 
 covered a young lady in white kid slippers 
 and dainty attire, promenading up and 
 down the white sand, holding above her 
 head a red silk parasol. The gentleman 
 who accompanied her was a stalwart young 
 man in a regulation bathing suit. The 
 Willipers watched this couple closely, 
 but to their disappointment the daintily 
 arrayed lady did not go near the climbing 
 surf creepers. 
 
 "She's just out to show her shape," 
 Mamie said with disgust after a bit, and 
 then she quoted, cocking her head airily : 
 
 " Mother, may I go out to swim? " 
 " Yes, my darling daughter. 
 " Hang your clothes on a hickory limb, 
 " But don't go near the water." 
 
 They soon forgot the lady in kid slip 
 pers and corsets, while watching the lively 
 213
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 scene in the water before them. There 
 were old bald-headed fat men, and scraw- 
 ney bald-headed lean men ; stout old 
 women in big poke sun-bonnets, thin 
 old women who shivered constantly; 
 jolly young men and girls who romped 
 in the surf, and timid people who crept 
 to the water's edge and nibbled at a bath. 
 
 Williper Pere was enjoying himself 
 hugely. The old people in particular 
 interested him. They looked so funny, 
 puffing and blowing, and they were so 
 outlandish as to figure. 
 
 " Aint it just horrid what shapes people 
 have ? " Williper Mere whispered to 
 Mamie. " See that fat woman there, 
 swashin' about. 'J'ever see the like ? If 
 I was her, I'd take a bath in my bed 
 room." 
 
 " Long as she don't mind, what need we 
 care ? " Mamie returned, philosophically. 
 " She's natural, anyhow, and not like that 
 cat promenading up and down." 
 
 Mamie evidently had taken a strong 
 214
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 aversion to Miss Corsets and Kid Slippers, 
 for her eyes stabbed her whenever she 
 came in range. No one hates sham like 
 the wage earner. The "Well, I'll be gol 
 darned ! " of the farmer, as a butterfly of 
 the genus summer girl or a golf dude 
 passes in his sight, is expressive of the 
 most withering contempt. The plain 
 people know honesty when they meet it 
 on the street. 
 
 After the bathers had come from the 
 water Williper Pere manifested symptoms 
 of hunger, so the party adjourned to 
 " The Rocks " and ate their lunch, while 
 the Atlantic slapped the shore with its 
 long swell and out to sea tall ships moved 
 up and down in the lane of commerce. 
 How invigorating was the salt air ! Little 
 Jack expanded his lungs and looked up 
 into his mother's face and laughed. The 
 bleached face of Williper Pere took on 
 almost a rosy hue, and Mamie Kelley let 
 down her glorious red hair and gave sea 
 and sun their will of it. 
 215
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 How hungry they were ! But they had 
 plenty to eat and plenty to toss to the 
 sand pipers. While eating, Little Jack 
 must tell a story. 
 
 Somewhere, sometime he had read about 
 an old fisherman who used to fish from 
 these same rocks year after year for black 
 fish, and how one day he fell asleep with 
 his pole in his hands. It was then that 
 the king of the black fish seized the line 
 and dragged the old fisherman into the 
 water down, down to the palace of the 
 water babies, where he was well tended to, 
 but from which he was never allowed to 
 escape, "and perhaps," Little Jack said, 
 gravely, " he's down there now, for all 
 we know." 
 
 <( Who ever heard tell of water babies?" 
 cried Williper Mere. 
 
 " Oh, yes they be they be oh yes ! " 
 insisted Little Jack. " Little water babies ; 
 they live in the water and float about and 
 have a fairy godmother. Oh, I know 
 it's true all right, for a preacher wrote 
 216
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 about them. There was a little boot 
 black no, a chimney sweep it was, as fell 
 into the water and was turned into a water 
 baby. My, what a time he had ! " 
 
 " How could a baby live in the water ? " 
 his mother asked, incredulously. 
 
 " Why, a frog as lived there told him 
 how. Don't frogs live in the water ? Well, 
 this frog was a big bull frog, and he told 
 this chimney sweep water baby just how 
 to do it. Anyway, he lived and got mar 
 ried and swam far out to sea." 
 
 " I'll bet there is water babies," Mamie 
 Kelley said, with a wink at Little Jack's 
 parents. " I remember once when I was 
 in bathing down to Crescent, something 
 caught hold of my toe and I put for 
 shore. I sat down on the sand and held 
 up my foot, and what do you think I saw 
 but a water baby a little naked water 
 baby sittin' a-straddle of my toe and 
 hangin' on to beat the band." 
 
 " Now, didn't I tell you ! " cried Little 
 Jack, clapping his hands. " But what 
 217
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 did you do with the water baby ? " he 
 inquired, eagerly. 
 
 " Well, of course I was surprised at 
 first. Then I reached down to pick the 
 kid up, but he just twisted up one corner 
 of his mouth, and sayin' f not on your 
 life ! ' takes a header into the water." 
 
 " If that don't beat all ! " Little Jack 
 exclaimed, and he looked wistfully down 
 at the water, hoping that he, too, might 
 see a real water baby, while Mamie and 
 his parents grinned at each other know 
 ingly. 
 
 There is a rest in the slap, slap, slap 
 of the sea rest and peace. Mother of 
 us all, the sea soothes her children when 
 they come down to her and lie by her 
 side. Care is forgotten. Realities fade 
 away and dreams come. Dreams certainly 
 came to Williper Pere when he drew off 
 to the shade of a large boulder, if the 
 sounds which came from his direction 
 were authentic. Little Jack placed his 
 head in his mother's lap and went to 
 218
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 sleep, and the two women stood guard 
 and looked out to sea. 
 
 After the nap they all marched up the 
 Ocean Drive and saw what they could see 
 of the hotels and cottages. It was great 
 amusement for them to watch four chil 
 dren two little girls and two boys, all 
 daintily dressed in blue and white, playing 
 tennis on the lawn of one of the great 
 hotels. Mamie held Little Jack upon the 
 curbing so that he might see. The four 
 children were very graceful and very 
 active. They drove the ball back and 
 forth with amazing speed. 
 
 As they were thus standing a lady 
 came down from the hotel a tall, angu 
 lar woman, with a set, severe face. She 
 noticed Little Jack and started at his 
 peculiar knotted appearance. 
 
 " Dear me," she said to Williper Mere, 
 "are you his mother?" 
 
 "Yes 'um," replied that lady, slowly. 
 
 The tall woman came nearer and whis 
 pered : 
 
 219
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Born so ? " 
 
 " Yes 'urn." 
 
 Another look at Little Jack and then 
 another deep whisper : 
 
 " Which hotel are you stopping at?" 
 
 " We aint stopping anywhere, bein' just 
 down from the city for the day," Williper 
 Mere replied, stupidly. 
 
 The tall woman opened her hand and 
 placed what it held in that of Mrs. Willi 
 per. " Buy him what he would like best 
 of all in the world," she said, and almost 
 smiled. Then she went on. 
 
 All eyes were on Williper Mere when 
 she in turn opened her hand. It held a 
 $10 note. 
 
 " And I took her for a regular Tartar," 
 Mamie gasped. 
 
 Williper Pere grinned. "There's kind 
 hearts in the world," he said. 
 
 They then resumed their walk along 
 the sea wall, paid another visit to the 
 beach, ate a bag of peanuts, one ditto of 
 sweet corn, drank each a glass of root 
 
 220
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 beer, and slowly made their way to the 
 depot. 
 
 It was at the depot that they saw the 
 Russian Ambassador. Little Jack, whose 
 ears were wide open, heard a man behind 
 him whisper, "There's the Russian Am 
 bassador," and turning saw him point to 
 a foreign looking gentleman standing be 
 tween two young ladies, and looking very 
 much like a common, every day kind of 
 a being. 
 
 The news was quickly communicated 
 to his friends, and the celebrated diplomat 
 received a careful scrutiny. 
 
 "He's seen the Czar," hoarsely whis 
 pered Little Jack. Then, to the surprise 
 of his parents he shot off sideways and 
 was standing on his crutches before the 
 Ambassador. 
 
 " Have you seen the Czar? " the cripple 
 asked, eagerly. 
 
 The great man looked down upon the 
 eager face upturned to his and replied : 
 " Many times, little brother." 
 
 221
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Then let me take your hand, for I 
 worship the Czar. He's the biggest of 
 'em all," Little Jack cried, unabashed. 
 
 Mamie Kelley had now seized the crip 
 ple and spirited him away. 
 
 The eyes of the diplomat rested upon 
 her inquiringly. He perhaps was won 
 dering whether the serfs of the American 
 Republic bore such daughters as she. 
 Mamie had not failed to observe this half 
 startled look, and in her heart she treas 
 ured it for many a long day. She knew 
 what the look meant. She had been ad 
 mired by one of the greatest men in the 
 world. Had she well spent her day ! 
 The fact that she sang at her loom for a 
 week afterwards, and that she strode home 
 ward over Smith's Hill alone at night, 
 showed she was well satisfied with her 
 self. 
 
 Little Jack, moreover, was in raptures, 
 and his parents greatly admired his bold 
 ness. 
 
 It had been for all a spendid day. They 
 
 222
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 had beheld and admired. They had list 
 ened to the crooning of the sea. They 
 had received a $10 note from the skies, 
 and had varying impressions of a famous 
 Ambassador. 
 
 But what to do with this $10. It was 
 to be spent for Little Jack, to purchase 
 what he liked best in the world. 
 
 " I'll tell you what we'll do," said Little 
 Jack himself, as they sat about the supper 
 table and discussed the proposition ; " we'll 
 put it by and on Thanksgiving day have 
 Mamie to a real swell dinner, for we've 
 had a bang-up time." 
 
 This suited everybody, and it was de 
 cided as outlined by Little Jack. 
 
 Then Mamie went home wondering 
 what it would seem like to be able to 
 stand by the side of a great man, his 
 social equal. 
 
 "Anyhow," she said to herself, "if I 
 am only Mamie Kelley, I know what's 
 what, and I'm just as good as the best 
 of 'em. 
 
 223
 
 The Willipers' Thanksgiving 
 
 Bull Dog Square looked cold and cheer 
 less on the morning of Thanksgiving day. 
 A restless northwest wind picked up the 
 dust and scattered it broadcast in blinding 
 clouds. The great shoe string mill and 
 the dye works were shut down. All the 
 stores those squalid little Jew clothing 
 stores were closed, and Mammy Yates, 
 having sold out her dozen morning papers, 
 put the blinds before the windows of her 
 atomic emporium and drifted away with 
 the wind to her daughter's house for a 
 holiday. The rum shops, however, kept 
 open, in hopes that some poor devils 
 would be found so unfortunate as to have 
 no happier place to go to and would come 
 to them with their small offerings of silver 
 and celebrate the day in inebriety. To 
 224
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 To the credit of Bull Dog Square there 
 were few of these miserables, and the lazy, 
 fat faced bartenders stood gazing out sadly 
 through the half closed windows of their 
 ill smelling haunts. 
 
 There was plenty of cold and hunger 
 in the neighborhood of the Square on 
 this day proclaimed by the President as a 
 day of special thanksgiving to God for 
 the bountiful harvest and the peace and 
 prosperity of the land. People are always 
 hungry there, for while they eat, they are 
 seldom well fed, and the winds have years 
 ago discovered how to spin through the 
 houses. 
 
 But in the home of the Willipers there 
 was warmth and good cheer, while a smash 
 ing big turkey was fast taking on a ripe 
 brown in the pan where he roasted. This 
 turkey, the nuts, raisins, pop-corn, candy 
 and other good things which were in 
 evidence on the sideboard, had been pur 
 chased with the ten dollars the stern look 
 ing lady at the Pier had given Williper 
 225
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Mere, to be spent on what Little Jack 
 liked best in the world. 
 
 Williper Pere sat in shirt sleeves by the 
 window, industriously trying to work a 
 steel-ring puzzle which he had bought for 
 Little Jack, and which in a fatal moment 
 of idleness he had picked up with the in 
 tention of showing his son just how the 
 man had shown him it was done. 
 
 Williper Mere had manifested much 
 interest in watching him at first, even to 
 the neglect of the turkey ; so had Little 
 Jack, but they gave it up with a sigh after 
 a while. He continued alone, squeezing, 
 twisting, turning the rings which looked 
 so innocent, but which couldn't be pre 
 vailed upon to go together. 
 
 Mamie Kelley, the beautiful weaver, 
 received, as we already know, a special in 
 vitation, and had come over early. She 
 had endeavored to assist Williper Mere 
 in getting dinner ready, but had been 
 squelched in the following words : 
 
 " Now, you go and sit down, Mamie. 
 226
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 I won't have you raise your hand. It's 
 tired you must be, workin' always as you 
 do, and I just want you to enjoy yourself 
 an' rest." 
 
 This suited Little Jack, and he in 
 veigled her over by his window, where he 
 sat with his trusty crutches at his side. 
 
 "You come here, Mamie," he said, 
 "and I'll tell you about the finest king 
 I've come across so far." 
 
 The girl seated herself quietly beside 
 him and took one of his wasted hands in 
 hers. 
 
 " Go ahead, Jacky," she said. " Tell 
 me all about him." 
 
 Little Jack's eyes sparkled. It was 
 not often that he had the pleasure of tell 
 ing a story to any one but his parents, 
 and they never seemed to understand the 
 way Mamie did. 
 
 "This king," he began, "was first of 
 
 all the bravest knight in the world. He 
 
 was tall and very strong, and when he 
 
 had his armor on he would sail in and 
 
 227
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 whip a dozen or more common knights 
 without much trouble. His name was 
 Richard Cure the Lion." 
 
 "That's a funny name," Mamie said, 
 showing genuine interest. 
 
 " Well, you bet they had funny names 
 in those days," Little Jack returned. 
 " They only had first names, and tacked 
 on whatever was their specialty. This 
 king's name was just Richard, but people 
 added f Cure the Lion,' which the book 
 said meant strong-hearted, or with the 
 heart of a lion. That's where the lion 
 comes in. Anyhow, he was a great 
 fighter, and just after he got to be king 
 he went to the Holy Land on the crusades." 
 
 " What were they ? something to ride 
 on?" 
 
 "No, I don't think they was. I don't 
 know just what they was. Anyway, he 
 rode a horse part of the way and went by 
 boat the rest." 
 
 " Perhaps f Crusades ' was the name of 
 the boat." 
 
 228
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 " Now I never thought of that," Little 
 Jack exclaimed. " It might be so. But 
 come to think, it couldn't be a boat. I 
 believe it was a journey, for other kings 
 went on crusades all by land. Well, as I 
 was telling you, he went to the Holy 
 Land to drive the Turks away from Jeru 
 salem." 
 
 " I wish he'd come and drive some of 
 the ' Turks' off Smith Hill," Williper 
 Mere interrupted, irreverently. 
 
 Mamie Kelley burst into a ringing 
 laugh and Williper Pere chuckled over 
 his puzzle. Little Jack, however, pro 
 ceeded seriously : 
 
 " You see, Mamie, the Turks had 
 driven all the Jews from Jerusalem, or a 
 good part of them, and occupied the Holy 
 Sepulchre." 
 
 " What ! lived in the grave ? " Mamie 
 inquired, quizzingly. 
 
 "Now don't get funny," Little Jack 
 retorted. " I just tell you as the story 
 runs. The book says ' occupied the Holy 
 229
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Sepulchre,' and what it means you can 
 guess as well as I can. So Richard Cure 
 the Lion came along to drive them out. 
 They had a king, the Turks had, named 
 Salladin, and he was a dandy. None of 
 the crusaders had been able to beat him 
 till Richard Cure the Lion came along, 
 and even Richard had a hard time 
 to get the best of him. This Salladin 
 found out after a bit that it was just 
 tempting Providence to send his best 
 fighters against Richard in the open field, 
 for he would cut them up in short order; 
 so he made a scheme to capture the Eng 
 lish king. He had a very beautiful black 
 horse that followed him about just like a 
 dog, and would never be happy away 
 from him. So Salladin sent this horse to 
 Richard as a present." 
 
 " I don't think much of him for that," 
 Mamie exclaimed. 
 
 " You just wait and see how it comes 
 out," Little Jack retorted. 
 
 Mamie looked properly squelched, and 
 230
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 the cripple continued : " Richard was 
 tickled to death to get the horse, for he 
 had never seen such a glorious creature 
 before, and the next day he must try him 
 in the battle. So he rode him out as 
 proud as could be, but when the horse 
 got the lay of the land he bolted for the 
 camp of the Turks, just as Salladin knew 
 he would, and Richard couldn't hold him 
 back. He yanked on the bit, but it was 
 no use, and he saw that he would be cap 
 tured sure if he didn't do something quick. 
 So he slid to the ground just as the horse 
 reached the first regiment of Turks, and 
 prepared to fight them all alone. They 
 came at him right and left, but he laid 
 about him with his battle axe, and every 
 time he struck there was one less Turk. 
 My ! how he did wallop them ! He was 
 all covered with blood and sweat when his 
 own knights came to his rescue, and he 
 couldn't have held out much longer." 
 
 "Say ! He was a daisy, that Richard, 
 wasn't he?" Mamie said. "That's the 
 231
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 kind of a man for me. I could just have 
 loved that man." 
 
 " But he was a king, remember," said 
 Little Jack. 
 
 " Well, supposing he was," the girl re 
 torted. " If I had been living in those 
 days I would have been a queen, perhaps. 
 They didn't care so much then about 
 being poor. If a man was strong and 
 brave and a woman beautiful, that was all 
 that was required." 
 
 Little Jack eyed his fair companion 
 proudly. 
 
 " I wish you was a queen, Mamie," he 
 said. " By Jimminy ! I do. Say ! Them 
 knights would have all been dead in love 
 with you, and they'd have made you 
 c Queen of Youth and Beauty ' at the 
 tournament." 
 
 " What was that, Jacky ? " 
 
 " That was the biggest time of all. 
 
 Every little while, when the knights had 
 
 nobody to fight, they held a tournament. 
 
 They had a grand-stand just like a base- 
 
 232
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 ball field, where all the ladies and the old 
 men sat. Then, whoever gave the tourna 
 ment, selected the finest looking girl in 
 the country 'round and made her f Queen 
 of Youth and Beauty.' She was to award 
 the prize to the best knight. 
 
 "Then the knights fought on horse 
 back before this grand-stand, and the one 
 that disabled all the others would kneel 
 before the t Queen of Youth and Beauty,' 
 and she would place on his head the wreath 
 of flowers, which was the prize." 
 
 " And did they fight just for that ? " 
 
 f * You bet they did, and sometimes half 
 of them was killed." 
 
 " Those were the men for me ! " Mamie 
 exclaimed emphatically, and her eyes 
 sparkled. " If I had been the c Queen of 
 Youth and Beauty,' and a fine, young 
 knight, after risking his life, had come to 
 me claiming the prize, I'd a kissed him 
 slap before all the people, just to show 
 how proud I was of him. There ain't no 
 such men now. Mill help and dry goods 
 
 233
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 clerks are all I know, and a silly lot they 
 are. There isn't one of them man enough 
 to fight unless he is in liquor, and instead 
 of fighting for a woman, they stand on 
 the street corners and make remarks. Oh, 
 I hate them ! " 
 
 " Ivanhoe is the fellow you'd a been 
 stuck on," Little Jack said, with a solemn 
 shake of his head. He was Richard Cure 
 the Lion's bosom friend, and was always 
 looking for a damsel in distress, that he 
 might fight for her. Irish or Swede, it 
 didn't matter to him, so long as she hadn't 
 any friends." 
 
 " Was he as good a man as King Rich 
 ard ? " Mamie asked. 
 
 " Well, he wasn't so strong. The king 
 was a mighty powerful man, but Ivanhoe 
 could lick anything of his size between 
 England and the Holy Land. I tell you, 
 I do like to read about him, 'specially 
 when he fought O'Brian Gilbert for the 
 Jewess Rebecca." 
 
 " I shouldn't a thought he'd a fought 
 
 234
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 for a Sheeny," Mamie said, with typical 
 Smith Hill contempt for the children of 
 the Ghetto. 
 
 " They didn't call 'em Sheenies then," 
 Little Jack continued seriously, " though 
 perhaps they ought to, for Rebecca's 
 father was a regular out and outer. His 
 name was Isaac, and he was always sneak 
 ing around and wringing his hands just 
 like a Sheeny at a rag sale. But Rebecca 
 was a lady, and she was as pretty as a pic 
 ture, too." 
 
 " That accounts for it," Mamie put in 
 with vigor. " Had she been homely 
 your brave Ivanhoe wouldn't have crossed 
 the square for her. They'll all make a 
 bluff at fighting for a good-looking girl, 
 be she Sheeny or Mulatto; but if her 
 face is plain, just watch 'em jump the 
 fence ! " 
 
 "Well, you know better than I do," 
 Little Jack shrewdly suggested, and then 
 continued: " Ivanhoe never asked for re 
 wards, anyhow, and when he whipped
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 O' Brian Gilbert, he never made any 
 motion for thanks." 
 
 " But what became of Rebecca? " Mamie 
 asked. 
 
 " Now that's a puzzler," Little Jack 
 replied. She just dropped out of sight, 
 but between me and you, I think she'd a 
 had Ivanhoe had he asked her." 
 
 " I've got it at last, by gravy ! " came 
 in a triumphant voice from the chair near 
 the window, and turning, they saw Willi- 
 per Pere holding aloft the puzzle, the rings 
 securely interlocked. 
 
 " Well, you're a fool to spend your 
 whole morning working over a silly thing 
 like that," Williper Mere said with em 
 phasis. 
 
 " But you see," her worthy husband 
 replied with conviction, " I started it and 
 I just couldn't give it up till I done it." 
 
 Dinner was now on the table, and the 
 
 party fell to. I was just going to say, 
 
 " Never was there such a turkey ! " when 
 
 I thought of Dickens. Isn't it too bad 
 
 236
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 that he said all the good things and the 
 rest of us must go 'round the lighthouse 
 for an expression! 
 
 Anyhow, Little Jack was very happy, 
 and Williper Pere ate a very great deal. 
 Williper Mere smiled tirelessly and poured 
 tea, while Mamie described the wonderful 
 agility of the King of the Bounding Wire, 
 whom she had seen at Keith's the preced 
 ing week. 
 
 " If I ever grow to be a man," Little 
 Jack said with conviction, " I don't know 
 which I'd rather be a king or that fellow. 
 What a man he must be ! " 
 
 " You're a crazy-head," Williper Mere 
 said fondly. " But he wouldn't be the 
 man for me. A feller jumpin' up an' 
 down on a wire ! Pshaw ! Give me the man 
 as makes his two dollars a day regular an' 
 brings it home to his wife. He's good 
 enough for such poor old bodies as I be." 
 
 " But what if he only makes a dollar 
 and seventy-five cents ? " Williper Pere 
 asked, with a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 237
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 " Well," his wife replied slowly, " there 
 are dollar-and-seventy-five-cent men and 
 dollar-and-seventy-five-cent men. But 
 don't you bother no trouble, Henry. I 
 ain't thinkin' of applyin' for divorce." 
 
 Mamie went home at 8:30, when the 
 fire died down.
 
 The Wolf at the Door 
 
 In the aftermath of the Williper's 
 Thanksgiving Dinner, distressful things 
 happened. The economic world turned 
 over, and Williper Pere fell out of his 
 berth. The thread mill at which he had 
 worked for so many years found its orders 
 suddenly cut off in volume, and it was 
 found necessary to discharge one-third of 
 the employes. Williper Pere lost his job. 
 
 The little tenement in the alley off Bull 
 Dog Square was the scene of great de 
 pression in consequence. The head of the 
 family had never been out of work before, 
 and he did not know which way to turn. 
 He was a dresser tender, and this especial 
 occupation he knew well. He felt that 
 he might be able to do other things, but 
 his confidence was not of an inspiring 
 
 239
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 quality. As a producer he was only one- 
 third of a man. Machinery was the other 
 two-thirds, and the first proportion had 
 come to rely greatly upon the other. 
 
 He spent the first week of loafing by 
 tramping through Pawtucket and the 
 other factory towns of the State, looking 
 for a job similar to the one he had lost. 
 There were no vacancies. No one wanted 
 a man. Dresser tenders were a drug in 
 the market. So also were mill operatives 
 of every description, for Hard Times were 
 abroad in the land. 
 
 Mamie Kelley came down from Smith 
 Hill to condole with the wretched Willi- 
 pers, but she was not cheerful. The sword 
 hung over her head also, and she worked 
 in fear and trembling. 
 
 " Williper has just simply got to find 
 something to do, or we will be in the 
 street," Williper Mere said with marked 
 decision. 
 
 "That's it," returned Williper Pere. 
 "I've just simply got to." 
 240
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 " What's the matter with everything? " 
 Little Jack asked anxiously. 
 
 " That's just what we'd all like to 
 know," Mamie replied. " I don't know, 
 for one. The mills have no orders. The 
 country is scared. They say we make 
 more stuff than the people can use. It's 
 a stone wall to me. I don't know what 
 I'll do if I lose my own job. I ain't got 
 a soul to fall back on." 
 
 " You come and live with us, then ! " 
 cried Little Jack. 
 
 The girl kissed his wasted cheek and 
 broke into tears. This started Williper 
 Mere, and she was soon sobbing in con 
 cert. Williper Pere felt the corners of 
 his mouth twitch, but he realized that it 
 was not manly to cry. So he bravely re 
 sisted the temptation. 
 
 " Jack is right, Mamie," he said. " You 
 come and live with us. We'll get on 
 somehow." 
 
 The next week Mamie Kelley followed 
 her trunk, pushed in a wheelbarrow by 
 241
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Williper Pere to the latter's home. The 
 sword had fallen ! 
 
 The immediate present was not to be 
 feared, for both Mamie and the Willipers 
 had a rainy-day fund in the savings bank. 
 But it was like cutting teeth to draw upon 
 this. 
 
 Day after day the man and the girl went 
 through the Square into the city looking 
 for employment. They tried the indus 
 trial bureaus, but quickly caught on to the 
 game played there. Up and down they 
 walked, looking everywhere, and each 
 night related their experiences to Williper 
 Mere and Little Jack. 
 
 "It's just like this," Mamie once said, 
 "the world ain't got no use for us. No 
 body wants us, or cares whether we live 
 or die. I feel, when goin' 'round, just as 
 if I was outside a big walled city with iron 
 gates. Inside everything is lovely. Out 
 side it's misery. 
 
 " I goes up to the man at one of the 
 gates and says, 'Let me in, please.' 
 242
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 " He says, ( No, you can't go in ; there 
 ain't room for another soul inside just at 
 present.' 
 
 " * But I want to get in awful bad,' I 
 says to him. 
 
 " c I can't help it,' he says. ' Don't 
 blame me. I'd let you in fast enough if 
 I could, but I just can't.' 
 
 " So 'round an' 'round the walls I go, 
 tryin' a gate here and a gate there, but 
 always the same, with variations, for one 
 sends you away gentle like, and another 
 scowls as much as to say, t How dare you 
 ask such a thing ! ' 
 
 "If Richard Cure the Lion was only 
 living ! " cried Little Jack. " He'd knock 
 in a gate with his battle-axe mighty lively, 
 I tell you ! He wouldn't take no back 
 talk ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Mamie, " now is when 
 I feel if I only had a man behind me." 
 
 " Yes, and a kitchen full of young 
 'uns ! " Williper Mere returned, with fine 
 scorn. " You're well off as you be, Mamie 
 
 243
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 Kelley, I tell you that. Hungry babies 
 is what gnaws the heart out, folks tells 
 me as knows. 'Tis what keeps the Irish 
 down, havin' such terrible families. Now 
 there's Bridget O'Shay she that was 
 Beazie McCarthy, you remember, Willi- 
 per. She worked next spooler to me for 
 years. A rosy-cheeked girl was Beazie 
 McCarthy when she married Mike 
 O'Shay. Seven children she had in as 
 many years, and look at her now ! You 
 mind me, Mamie Kelley, and don't you 
 fret about gettin' married. It's the natural 
 curse of the Irish I mean the children as 
 follows." 
 
 A scratching sound was now audible in 
 the hall. 
 
 " What's that ? " Little Jack inquired, 
 pricking up his ears. 
 
 "It's 'the wolf at the door!'" Willi- 
 per Pere replied with a grin. 
 
 This is the first joke ever known to 
 have been uttered by Williper Pere. A 
 gruesome joke it was, and it set the 
 244
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 shivers chasing one another up Little 
 Jack's spine. It clung to the boy's mem 
 ory, too, and haunted him continually 
 throughout that winter. 
 
 The wolf at the door ! Oh, that terrible 
 wolf at the door ! When Williper Pere 
 would sit by the fire of an evening with 
 head bowed in despair, and the two women 
 sat by the table sewing feverishly on 
 sweat-shop clothes, Little Jack, feeling 
 strangely depressed, would close his eyes 
 and in fancy hear the gnawing, gnawing 
 of that hungry wolf and see its clammy 
 nose poking through the crack it had 
 made. 
 
 When the funds in the savings bank 
 were exhausted, all the family had to de 
 pend on was the little that Williper Mere 
 and Mamie could earn with their needles, 
 and even this ill - paid labor was not 
 enough in volume to keep them busy. 
 A God-send in the shape of a snowstorm 
 was the means of Williper Pere earning 
 four dollars. How he revelled in his 
 245
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 work ! It was so good to be earning 
 money again. But the sun soon destroyed 
 this source of revenue, and he took to the 
 streets again. He made a practice of 
 visiting each of the mills once every week, 
 and his face soon became known. He had 
 no longer to state his business, but simply 
 to show his face at the office window, to 
 be met by the curt remark, " No help 
 wanted to-day." 
 
 Now let it be remembered that through 
 out this miserable ordeal, Williper Pere 
 did not cry out against the rich, or spend 
 any of his time reflecting on the injustice 
 of natural laws. He did not concern him 
 self at all about other men's affairs, but 
 took it for granted that he must either 
 find work or starve. In his way he was 
 fiercely selfish, for he met hundreds of 
 other men whose situation was even more 
 desperate than his own, without extending 
 to them any considerable sympathy. They 
 must do the best they could. He did 
 not stop to ask them how many helpless 
 246
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 children they had, but thought solely of 
 his own Little Jack, and kept his own 
 secrets as to the possibilities of em 
 ployment which he discovered in his 
 rounds. 
 
 It might be termed maudlin pathos if 
 an attempt were made to describe the 
 scenes at home when he would return 
 with springing step and report that at one 
 of the mills he had been told to come 
 around in the morning, as there might be 
 a chance. Williper Mere, at such times, 
 would bustle around vigorously and get 
 up a meal just a little above the average. 
 Mamie would do up her wealth of auburn- 
 hued tresses especially fine, just as if she 
 meditated again showing herself to the 
 world, and Little Jack would ripple with 
 delight, and chatter like a robin arrived 
 after a long winter. 
 
 But we know these chances did not 
 materialize. Still Williper Pere kept at 
 it, never giving up hope, doggedly deter 
 mined to find work. 
 
 247
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 They were now in debt to their green 
 grocer, and lived in constant dread of a 
 withdrawal of credit. Brave as he was in 
 looking for work, Williper Pere did not 
 possess the nerve to do the shopping. He 
 could not say the words, " Please put it on 
 the book ! " 
 
 Williper Mere, however, rose to the 
 occasion, and though every time she en 
 tered the market her heart beat furiously, 
 she forced sunshine into her face and 
 spoke pleasantly to the awful groceryman, 
 bidding him be of good cheer, for " Wil 
 liper would certainly get a job soon, as 
 times was lookin' up." 
 
 " Times were looking up ! " God bless 
 your stout heart, Williper Mere. 
 
 There was a line one hundred yards 
 long before the headquarters of the Over 
 seer of the Poor each morning, a line of 
 one-meal-a-day men and women, with 
 empty baskets ; and the preachers in 
 churches, high and low, no longer 
 preached sermons, but pled and prayed 
 248
 
 THE WILLIPERS 
 
 and stormed at their congregations that 
 they must open their hearts and give, for 
 men, women and children their fellow 
 citizens were dying daily of cold and 
 hunger. 
 
 Then the end came, and the terrors of 
 the wolf at the door vanished for Little 
 Jack. It was all so simple, too. Willi- 
 per Pere got the job of assistant box 
 maker and man of all work in Mamie 
 Kelley's woolen mill. His wages were to 
 be seven dollars a week until times got 
 better. 
 
 Williper Mere and Mamie danced 
 crazily together on receipt of the good 
 news, and Little Jack clapped his hands 
 and joined in the commotion with lusty 
 lungs. 
 
 Seven dollars a week ! They could live 
 on six and pay the remaining dollar on 
 the bug-a-boo grocery bill. 
 
 The peace of heaven was in their hearts 
 that night when they slept, and the next 
 morning Williper Pere was off half an 
 249
 
 A BUNDLE OF YARNS 
 
 hour ahead of time, swinging his dinner 
 pail ostentatiously. He was a proud 
 man a vain man a wholly happy man. 
 He had a job ! 
 
 The everlasting gates, which had been 
 closed so long, had lifted up their heads 
 and he had gone in.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 wwni ; 
 
 FEB a 
 
 ' 1961 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 flEC'D JAN 1 
 
 11982 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAVLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U S A
 
 3 1970 00483 3155 
 
 0306958