THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 GIFT OF 
 
 PROFESSOR 
 LEON J. RICHARDSON 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 

 PEASY'S CHILDHOOD 
 
 STORIES FOR CHILDREN, 
 
 AND FOR ALL WHO REMEMBER THAT THEY 
 HAVE BEEN CHILDREN. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 
Fifty copies printed. 
 No. ....: 
 
 Education 
 GIFT 
 

 
 ANNIE AND ELEANOR: 
 
 My beloved, let this little book connect my childhood 
 with yours. 
 
 = 
 
 068 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. MY FIRST SCHOOL . 
 
 II. THE POOR LITTLE BABY 
 
 III. Two LUMPS OF SUGAR 
 
 IV. WELLINGTON 
 
 V. BlRKENIIEAD 
 
 VI. THE ISLE OF MAN 
 
 VII. " You MUST N'T TOUCH ! " 
 
 PAGE 
 
 8 
 
 25 
 
 37 
 
 70 
 
 122 
 
 161 
 
 226 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 FE summer afternoon, not very long ago, I 
 was standing upon the summit of the Bigi, 
 from whence on a clear day one of the finest views 
 in the world is to be seen. But this was not a clear 
 day, and strain my eyes as I would, nothing was 
 visible but the warm smiling blue sky above and the 
 cold gloomy ocean of mist below. From the top of 
 solitary Eockall in the midst of the Atlantic one 
 gets just about such a prospect; only on the Eigi 
 one is not surrounded by the nests and the fluttering 
 wings of sea-birds; Alpine roses and blue gentians 
 grow at one's feet instead ; and the distant tinkling 
 of herd-bells soothes one's ear in place of the clangor 
 and screaming of gulls and mews. 
 
 So there I stood upon the mountain, half won- 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 dering, half disappointed, looking down into the 
 mist. Suddenly it began to assume consistency, to 
 be furrowed, to be heaped into ridges, to form hills 
 and valleys, to be varied with lights and shadows. 
 Then it looked like the pale ghost of the earth with 
 all its heights and plains in winding-sheets. Soon 
 it began to rock and reel, as if the ghost of an 
 earthquake had taken possession of it, and under 
 my very eyes a tremendous fissure opened. Ah, 
 what did I see! A lake sparkled, meadows glowed 
 in sunshine, white dots of villages nestled against 
 dark forests, it was all so distinct, yet so very 
 far beneath me. I thought of the peasant in the 
 story who peeped down between two sods and saw 
 the very centre of the earth and all the glories 
 of fairy-land. But almost before I had time for 
 the thought the fissure closed, the vision vanished, 
 and another appeared, even in the midst of my 
 first sigh of disappointment. Yes, there they stood, 
 those giants of the Bernese Oberland, glorifying the 
 horizon like a company of archangels with their 
 white wings folded. 
 
And so, for a long time, the magical earthquake 
 rocked and heaved and gave up its splendors. Just 
 so it is with the remembrances of early childhood. 
 The heavy mist of oblivion blots out most of the 
 events of our first days, but here and there, we know 
 not how or why, it parts, and certain scenes, cer- 
 tain occurrences, certain periods even, stand out from 
 among its dark folds in perfect distinctness of out- 
 line, and bathed in that wonderfully clear atmosphere 
 which belongs only to these very early memories. 
 This I thought to myself as I was descending the 
 Rigi on the next day, amid singing torrents and 
 dancing birches. 
 
 Then I began to have a desire to put into words 
 some of these little enamelled pictures of my own 
 childish memory, and after I had gratified this desire, 
 I began to ask myself if there might not be other 
 children who would like to get acquainted with my 
 childhood. In writing these stories I seemed to 
 grow young again and to long for playfellows of a 
 new generation. Will you take me among you, dear 
 little children ? 
 
 7 
 
I. 
 
 MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 IE my sister Anne and I had left our dear 
 English home to live in America we became 
 " thorough little John Bulls/'* as people used to call 
 us. William IY. was king of England then, the 
 predecessor of Queen Victoria, and we professed the 
 greatest loyalty to him. We knew the names of 
 the royal dukes, his brothers, and their children, 
 the names of the English nobility, and their country- 
 seats, and the titles of their eldest sons, all of which 
 we studied out of certain pamphlets in our father's 
 possession. We adored everything English and 
 despised everything American, and we had daily 
 quarrels with our schoolfellows on that account. 
 We could boast of Lord Nelson and the Duke 
 of Wellington, while they declared that General 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 Washington and Lafayette were a great deal "smarter 
 men." They would whistle "Yankee Doodle/" while 
 we sang " God save the King" at the top of our 
 lungs, each party trying to make more noise than the 
 other. Our mother rather sympathized with us in 
 our British loyalty, which made us very proud, but 
 we thought she fell away from grace terribly, when 
 we saw her eating squash and sweet corn with relish, 
 and declaring she liked them. We never tasted 
 them, nor Indian puddings, nor brown bread, nor 
 baked beans, for these articles of food were unknown 
 in England, and we professed to shudder with dis- 
 gust when they were offered to us. " Which do you 
 like best, treacle or molasses ? " people would ask us, 
 and with one voice we answered " Treacle," which is 
 the English word for molasses ; but we did not know 
 that. We thought English ways and English people 
 were perfect, and we were so sensitive on that point, 
 that if a word was said by any one to the contrary, 
 we would rush out of the room, burst into tears, and 
 sob indignantly in each other's arms. Two foolish 
 children indeed we were ! 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 One day a gentleman who had just returned from 
 England called on my mother to bring her the last 
 news of her friends there. He was dressed rather 
 peculiarly, and I remember he told my mother that 
 his clothes had been made in London. Anne and I 
 were sitting on a couple of footstools (we never said 
 cricket, for that was an American word) at his feet, 
 and we simultaneously laid our heads gently against 
 his knees, feeling that the touch of those English- 
 made garments was almost sacred. He was a kind 
 old friend, and he smiled approvingly down upon us 
 at this mark of affection, which he little thought was 
 paid to his trousers rather than to himself. Bat soon 
 he began to talk to our mother about the discomforts 
 of travelling in England for an American, and espe- 
 cially the want of variety in the food. ( ' Why, ma'am/' 
 said he, " in Paris you find a confectioner's shop at 
 every corner, and there you can get all kinds of jellies, 
 tarts, and garters" (he meant gateaux). "But in an 
 English city, even in London, if you go into a pastry- 
 cook's shop for a bit of luncheon, when you are tired 
 with sight-seeing, they never give you anything but 
 10 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 buns and beer, buns and beer. If any one asks me 
 for what productions England is famous, I say buns 
 and beer. )J 
 
 The gentleman laughed as if he had said something 
 very funny, but we were sadly disappointed in him ; 
 we thought his manner of speaking of buns highly 
 disrespectful. Buns had been the one luxury of our 
 lives, before we left England j mamma had used 
 them as rewards of merit, so that they were associated 
 in our minds with all the virtues. If we spelled suc- 
 cessfully a column of " Words in Four Syllables," 
 standing with toes turned out, and hands behind our 
 backs, we were presented with buns; if we "ran" the 
 heels of papa's socks strictly according to the rule, 
 " take up one thread and leave three threads/' buns 
 rewarded us. 
 
 When the old gentleman had finished his visit, my 
 sister and I stood at the window and watched him 
 crossing the street daintily in his new London clothes. 
 The streets were full of melting ice and snow, and a 
 sticky black mud, which spoiled every garment that 
 it touched, so that we thought of nothing else 
 11 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 but how to keep out of it when we took our walks 
 abroad. 
 
 Suddenly we saw running round the corner of the 
 street a little boy, who laughed and shouted and 
 looked back continually, sometimes stopping to dance 
 in a derisive way ; and in a moment his mother fol- 
 lowed, also running, but very much out of breath ; her 
 face was very red, and she was making frantic signs 
 to the naughty boy to stop. He had evidently broken 
 away from her, and she never could have caught him 
 in the world had he not carelessly fallen into the gut- 
 ter, right into the very blackest of the mud. She 
 pounced upon him at once, and in a whirlwind of 
 confusion they disappeared again round the corner, 
 she scolding the little boy, shaking him, wiping him, 
 cuffing his ears till his cap fell over his eyes, and then 
 cuffing it back again to its place, and he roaring at 
 the top of his lungs, and promising to be a good boy, 
 sputtering with his mouth full of mud. 
 
 " There is no such nasty mud as that in England," 
 said I emphatically. "0, Anne, do you remember 
 the lovely clean mud in Mr. Mason's back lane, where 
 12 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 we used to keep a baker's shop and set out our mud 
 cakes and rolls on the broken kitchen chair ? Don't 
 'sturb me. I 'm going into the corner to remember 
 it all up." So down I sat behind the sofa, covering 
 my eyes with my apron, and letting myself go back 
 into my short past. 
 
 Yes, the first thing I ever made in my life was a 
 dirt-pie. You may imagine how much I admired it 
 when it was finished. The mud was just of the right 
 consistency. I had shaped it with the crown of my 
 hat, ornamented the edge with a row of white pebbles, 
 and stuck bits of broken crockery all over the top 
 in imitation of citron. " Ah/' thought I, " if Anne 
 would only come out and look at it, or even if nurse 
 would bring the baby, that would be better than 
 nothing." Unluckily my pie was erected in the very 
 centre of the back lane, and I dared not leave it, 
 even to run into the house for my little sister, lest 
 some stray dog or cow should demolish it by walk- 
 ing through it. So I sat very patiently mounting 
 guard in the middle of a deep rut, looking intently 
 at the nursery- window, which just appeared over the 
 
 13 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 garden-hedge that bounded the lane, that I might 
 beckon to little Anne the moment her face should 
 show itself. But instead of Anne, my father was 
 the first person who appeared, sauntering down the 
 lane for an evening walk. 
 
 " papa;" cried I, as soon as he was near enough, 
 " just look at my pie ! Is n't it beautiful ? " 
 
 I pointed to it proudly; I could not find any 
 more words to express my admiration and satisfac- 
 tion. They were too great for speech. But my 
 father's face puzzled me a little ; he did not look 
 altogether enchanted. 
 
 "Beautiful? It's you who are beautiful/' he 
 cried ; " you 're covered with dirt from head to 
 foot. Yes, your hair is actually matted together with 
 mud. Let 's see what your mother will say to 
 you/' 
 
 He took me up in his arms, and with one stroke 
 of his foot he demolished all my handiwork. I burst 
 into a loud roar of anger and mortification, a little 
 consoled, however, by seeing that a piece of my citron 
 had cut my father's boot sadly. 
 
 14 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 I did not get a very flattering reception in the 
 house. My mother and the nurse looked at me with 
 serious faces, making well-known sounds of disap- 
 probation with their tongues against the roofs of their 
 mouths. Even little Anne would not touch me when 
 I held out to her a hand covered with black streaks 
 and dirty tears. 
 
 " My dear," said my father to my mother, " how 
 can you let this child get into such a state, and run 
 about the neighborhood bareheaded like a young 
 gypsy ? It 's very unsafe, very improper." 
 
 " My dear," replied my mother to my father, 
 " what you say is very true ; I thought she was 
 safe and sound on the parlor-sofa with her picture- 
 books ; but with Anne and Lucretia and the baby to 
 look after, I declare I cannot pay proper attention 
 to Peasy. She must really be sent to school. Old 
 Peggy Jones's daughter keeps a nice little school, 
 and to-morrow morning I '11 take Peasy down there 
 without fail." 
 
 Next morning nurse brushed my hair till I was 
 quite in a pet ; a larger bib than usual was pinned 
 
 15 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 over my clean frock at breakfast,, and I was charged 
 not to spill my milk into my lap, " Because, miss, 
 you are going to school." I had no idea what sort 
 of place " school " was, but I did not like this air of 
 preparation, nor did I like Peggy Jones, who often 
 came to sew for my mother. I was sure, therefore, 
 that I should not like her daughter. 
 
 After breakfast my hat was brought and tied under 
 my chin. It had been washed and pressed to cleanse 
 it from the fragments of dirt-pie, and the straw 
 creaked very disagreeably. My mother took out of 
 the closet a certain detestable primer, full of great 
 staring A B C's. Often had I been called from the 
 most delightful plays to stand at her knee, and 
 follow the point of her pin down the long column 
 of letters which adorned the first page. I did not 
 like the primer, it was associated with too many 
 gentle reminders of my mother's thimble on my 
 stupid little head. 
 
 " You are to take this to school," said my mother, 
 putting the book into a sombre green satchel. 
 
 " O no, marnma," cried I, eagerly. " I don't want 
 
 16 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 it. I 'd a great deal rather carry the ' Sixteen Won- 
 derful Old Women/ or ' Deborah Dent/ " 
 
 "Peasy," said my mother in a solemn voice, " you 
 are going to school to learn." 
 
 My heart sank at once, nor was I much comforted 
 by seeing mamma put two figs and a bun into the 
 satchel. I felt sure they would taste of the primer. 
 I took an affecting farewell of little Anne. I was in 
 the habit of regulating my feelings a good deal by 
 what I imagined to be the expression of her face. 
 This time it was a very grave face. 
 
 " Good by, Anne, good by/' I half sobbed. " I '11 
 let you play with my churn while I 'm gone, and 
 you may put pins into Callie's eyes, if you want to," 
 Gallic being a calico doll. 
 
 Mamma could wait no longer, so away we went 
 together under her great parasol. 
 
 It was a morning of mornings ! The breeze had 
 all the warmth of summer and the freshness of 
 spring; the hedges were full of little birds, who 
 bustled noisily under the leaves, or burst out upon 
 us suddenly from among them, with loud snatches 
 
 17 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 of song. " No wonder/' thought I; "they are not 
 going to school ! " There was a sort of holiday 
 brilliancy in the sunshine, and all the tiny blades 
 of grass were dancing together. The wild rose- 
 bushes were covered with flowers, which stared at 
 me like so many great eyes, just as if they knew 
 where I was going. I felt very unhappy and very 
 cross. 
 
 " Peasy," said mamma, in her amiable way, 
 "would not you like to pick a few of these roses 
 to give to your teacher?" 
 
 " No," said I, with more decision than politeness. 
 
 When we reached the door of Peggy Jones's cot- 
 tage, a great buzzing and humming of voices from 
 within announced that school was already begun. 
 Mamma was obliged to knock several times with 
 the handle of her parasol before she could be heard. 
 Meantime my ill-temper seemed to be " running out 
 of the heels of my boots," and I was seized, instead, 
 with a terrible fear and timidity which made me 
 tremble all over. My heart beat, and a dimness 
 came over my eyes. I could hardly see Miss Jones 
 
 18 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 when she opened the door, but her head seemed to 
 tower up to the very ceiling. Mamma said some- 
 thing to me about " being a good girl/' and " wait- 
 ing after school till I was sent for/' and then walked 
 away with her usual composure, as if nothing was the 
 matter. I was too much frightened not to be per- 
 fectly passive, and in this state I was led into the 
 school, and through rows of girls up to the very 
 top of the room. I only remember that these girls 
 appeared to me like young giantesses with eyes 
 bigger than the dog-roses, and more staring. 
 
 After Miss Jones had left me seated upon a little 
 cricket with my back against the wall, I began to 
 recover myself and to look about me. Not being 
 used to children older than myself, and knowing 
 nothing about their occupations and amusements, I 
 found plenty of things to wonder at. I was at first 
 completely absorbed in the patchwork. I thought 
 the long strips of gay-colored piece's dazzlingly beau- 
 tiful, and the squares of calico covered with vines 
 and sprigs my imagination converted into pictures 
 of garden-beds adorned with flowers. 
 
 19 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 By and by 1 perceived that there were a great 
 many primers in the room just like mine. This 
 was a disagreeable discovery, and quite diverted my 
 mind from the patchwork. Several girls were hold- 
 ing their primers close to their faces, and spelling out 
 of their columns in loud whispers. They rocked 
 themselves backwards and forwards as if they were 
 in great pain. I pitied them from the bottom of 
 my heart. Pretty soon the classes went up to re- 
 cite. I noticed how they all stood in a line, with 
 their heels together, toes turned out and hands behind 
 them. They reminded me of the awkward squad 
 of a certain regiment which I had often seen drill- 
 ing at M . . . . , and I thought Miss Jones put out the 
 words to spell with the fierceness of a drill-sergeant. 
 Worse than that, she too wore a thimble like mamma, 
 and used it in the same way. Worst of all, one 
 very dull girl was made to stand in the corner with 
 her face to the wall, for inattention to that terrible 
 primer. My terror returned at this spectacle. I 
 felt that I should never have courage to go up 
 and say my letters, without even the aid of a pin; 
 
 20 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 I knew that I should be deprived of sight and 
 speech as soon as I found myself placed at Miss 
 Jones's awful knee, and I was sure that, after well 
 exercising her thimble upon my head, she would end 
 by placing me too in another corner, and that the 
 whole school would despise me. Then I thought 
 of home and of Anne. It seemed to me that years 
 had passed since I had seen them, and that it would 
 be years before I should see them again. O that 
 my mother could only know what I felt! And 
 this thought of mamma overcame my fortitude. I 
 began to cry vehemently, with my pinafore covering 
 my face. This made some confusion in the school ; 
 but Miss Jones must have been a judicious teach- 
 er, for instead of scolding me she gently told me 
 that she supposed I was tired, and that I might 
 go out in the yard and play with some kittens 
 which she had. She told one of the large girls to 
 take me and show me the way, and added that I 
 need not come in till I felt better. As I persisted 
 in keeping my head and face concealed in my pina- 
 fore, I was led blindfold out of school, and 
 
 21 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the children laughed till my cheeks tingled with 
 shame. 
 
 When I found myself alone with the kittens I 
 cried more than ever. The old cat was very kind; 
 she licked off my tears and purred in a motherly 
 way, so I soon felt a little better, and even untied 
 the strings of my shoes for the kittens to play with. 
 After a good romp with them in the fresh air, I 
 gathered courage enough to think about returning 
 into school. I ventured back to the door and 
 tapped gently. But the first class was going 
 through the multiplication-table, and nobody heard 
 me. My courage vanished just as my ill-temper 
 had done in the morning, and I took a desperate 
 resolution: I would go home. To be sure I did 
 not know the way, and I had never walked in the 
 roads alone ; but I would try, anything was better 
 than the primer and the girls' eyes. So I started, 
 running with all my speed. The faster I ran the 
 more agitated I became. I fancied the whole school 
 was behind me, chasing me, and Miss Jones, with her 
 long legs and her thimble, gaining upon me at every 
 
 22 
 
MY FIRST SCHOOL. 
 
 step. I don't know how I found my way back, but 
 I am sure I must have startled my mother when I 
 burst into her parlor. I had no hat, only one shoe, 
 and the other was minus a string. My face was on 
 fire with heat and excitement, my hair in a snarl, 
 my clothes tumbled, and my neck and arms adorned 
 with long scratches, bestowed by my friends the 
 kittens. Little Anne was the first object that I 
 sought. She was sitting at the window in a high- 
 chair, all dressed in white, her grave, composed face 
 as cool and fresh-looking as her frock. She was 
 eating strawberries out of a white plate, with her 
 feet carefully turned out on the step of the chair. 
 I can see, as well as if they were before me now, 
 the gilt buttons of her shoes, and her socks so nicely 
 smoothed over the ankles. I flew towards her, and 
 peace and calmness passed into my childish being 
 as I laid my hot face in her lap. She said not a 
 word, but patted me with her little soft hands, and 
 pushed a strawberry into my mouth. 
 
 Mamma must have concluded that I was too 
 young to go to school. At least she did not re- 
 
 23 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 prove me for running away, nor offer to take me 
 there again. She sent for my hat, for which I 
 was very glad, and for my primer, for which I 
 was very sorry. But I had lost my taste for dirt- 
 pies, and I suppose she thought that was quite 
 as much as she could expect from two hours' 
 schooling. 
 
 Sri 
 
II. 
 
 THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 |NE morning I was having a fine play in the 
 nursery with little Anne. "We "made be- 
 lieve" that we were riding to America to see our 
 relations. We placed two chairs side by side for a 
 chaise, and two others, turned down, were our horses. 
 These were harnessed with a variety of old tapes and 
 strings, and a couple of our sashes made excellent 
 reins. We had our two nightgowns rolled up for bag- 
 gage, and a small basketful of stones and chips, which 
 represented cakes and buns. Father had been read- 
 ing to me the "Pilgrim's Progress," where Christiana, 
 Mercy, and four hungry boys make the journey to 
 the Eternal City with no other provisions than an 
 occasional pomegranate and a few bunches of grapes. 
 So when Anne suggested that we might eat up our 
 
 25 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 cakes before we got to America, and that we ought 
 to provide ourselves with some chickens and loaves 
 of bread, I quoted John Bunyan to her, and she 
 yielded to my superior learning. Of course we did 
 not intend to take so long a journey without meeting 
 with adventures, and we made ourselves plenty of 
 them. Our chaise broke down, upset, its wheels came 
 off, its floor fell through; our horses stumbled, 
 reared, kicked, and plunged. We had an idea that 
 there was water to be crossed somewhere on the road 
 to America, so we occasionally got down upon the 
 floor and swam a little. We were having a delight- 
 fully noisy time. 
 
 By and by the baby, who was lying in nurse's lap, 
 stirred uneasily, and began to cough and choke and 
 struggle. This was nothing new to us, for the poor 
 little fellow, though only four months old, had been 
 suffering with the whooping-cough for some weeks. 
 But this was a very bad fit of strangling, and nurse 
 looked at the baby with great concern as she raised 
 him and tried to make him comfortable. 
 
 " Poor dear ! " said nurse, shaking her head, " he 
 
 26 
 
THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 gets weaker and weaker every day, he '11 never get 
 over it, he can't bear it much longer/' added she, 
 as the poor little exhausted sufferer sank back with 
 closed eyes and purple lips, after the paroxysm was 
 over. 
 
 " What will he do/' said I, " when he can't bear 
 it any longer ? " 
 
 " God will take him," answered nurse, gravely. 
 
 "But, Mary," said I, why could n't God take one 
 of us three girls instead ? Don't girls make as good 
 angels as boys ? And mamma has only one boy." 
 
 " Lord sakes, miss ! " said Mary, which was not 
 a very satisfactory answer. 
 
 This was Saturday, and on Saturday evening it 
 was my mother's custom to have a tub of hot water 
 brought into the nursery and all the children well 
 scrubbed in soap-suds. As I was the eldest, my turn 
 came last, and on this particular evening, while Anne 
 and Lucretia were passing under nurse's vigorous 
 hands, I drew my little chair close up to mamma, who 
 was holding the baby. I was so still that she hardly 
 observed me; she scarcely took her eyes from the 
 
 27 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 baby's face, and I noticed that she looked very sad, 
 very pale, very tired. I remembered how she had 
 watched over him day after day and night after night, 
 and now if God should take him away after all ! I 
 had not forgotten for a moment what nurse had said 
 in the morning; I longed to ask mamma what she 
 thought, but I dared not, for the love arid pity that I 
 felt for her. The baby was very quiet ; he was very 
 thin, dark circles surrounded his eyes and lips, his 
 face had a touching look of suffering patience, and 
 something strange and stern seemed to flit across this 
 pitiful expression. It was the shadow of death, but I 
 did not know it, only my whole heart was drawn to- 
 wards him with a love full of awe. There was a har- 
 mony of expression between my mother's face and his. 
 They seemed to understand each other, and I felt like 
 an intruder, an outsider. " Mother," said I at last, in 
 a low, timid voice, and biting my lips hard to keep from 
 crying, " mother, do you think our baby will die ? " 
 My mother cleared her throat, but there were tears 
 in her eyes as she answered in an equally low tone, 
 "I hope he is better to-night." 
 
THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 " O mamma/'' said I, rising and holding out my 
 arms with an irrepressible longing, " do let me take 
 him just for a moment ; he 's so light, poor little 
 thing ! and I do want you to give him to me this once, 
 only this once ; I '11 be very careful." I had never 
 been allowed to touch him, but without a word 
 mamma answered my request by putting him into 
 my arms. 
 
 He was a very light weight, and mamma soon saw 
 that I was quite able to carry him slowly up and 
 down the room. The short twilight of a Febru- 
 ary night was deepening, but I thought it strange 
 that the darkness should settle first on his face. 
 
 It was very late before I was put to bed, and I fell 
 immediately into a deep sleep, from which, however, I 
 at last woke with a violent start and with all my 
 senses in full activity. A candle was burning in the 
 room, and this of itself was so surprising a thing 
 to me, who always slept in the dark, that I sat up in- 
 stantly to investigate the matter. I became conscious 
 that there was a mysterious movement in the house. 
 I heard the rustling of dresses, doors quietly opening 
 
 29 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and shutting, and my father's voice in a low tone, in 
 conversation with another voice which it was strange 
 to hear in the night. " Why/' thought I, " there 'a 
 Dr. Savage/' 
 
 Just then nurse came in eagerly but gently, and 
 began to look for something in a drawer. 
 
 " Is the baby worse, Mary ? " I inquired. 
 
 Mary wiped her eyes on her apron, she did not 
 seem astonished at my being awake, but she told me, 
 with her usual air of authority, to " lie still and go to 
 sleep again/' and that the doctor said " baby would 
 not live till morning/' She then hastened away. 
 
 My power of feeling had been exhausted the pre- 
 vious evening, and, strange to say, it was my imagi- 
 nation which was most affected by what Mary had 
 told me; undefined ideas floated before my mind. 
 "What is death?" I thought. "Does the baby know 
 what is happening to him ? Is God perhaps waiting 
 for him at the front door, or would he send an angel 
 instead? Perhaps Dr. Savage's horse sees the angel 
 just as Balaam's ass did." I looked down upon 
 little Anne, who slept tranquilly by my side. 
 
THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 " O, Anne, Anne, Anne/' thought I, " how little 
 you know " What it was that she did not know 
 I could not have told, I only dimly imagined. I fell 
 back upon the pillow, and the thought came over me 
 that God might be waiting in our very room. I had 
 been taught that He was always about us; now I 
 realized His presence, and shivered at the grandeur 
 jof the idea. In the midst of my exaltation I 
 dropped asleep. 
 
 When I awoke it was Sunday morning, the room 
 was full of sunshine, and not a breath of air stirred 
 the slender honeysuckle branches which were trained 
 over the window. The few winter birds had fin- 
 ished their morning songs, and it was not yet time 
 for the sound of church-bells. It was wonderfully 
 still without and within. " It is because God has 
 gone, and taken our baby with him," I thought, and 
 a deep solemnity took possession of me. Little Anne 
 was still asleep ; she had not stirred since I last 
 looked upon her by candlelight. I glanced round 
 the room, everything was as usual, even to our Sun- 
 day clothes placed in order on the chairs. " Ought 
 
 31 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 we to wear our best frocks now our baby is dead ? " I 
 thought. 
 
 I lay quite still till Mary entered noiselessly. Her 
 face was quite enough. I knew what had happened, 
 though I asked no question, spoke no word, and the 
 business of dressing passed in perfect silence. When 
 the last curl had been rolled over Mary's finger, she 
 said, " Your mamma wants to see you in her room, 
 the baby is dead." 
 
 Mary led me to my mother's chamber, and left me 
 at the open door. The heavy mahogany cradle stood 
 in the middle of the room, and in it was laid a 
 beautiful waxen image of our baby. The curtains 
 were down at the windows, the blinds drawn; it 
 seemed as if the darkness which had settled first upon 
 his face the past evening was loath to leave him, 
 and hung about him last. My mother sat on one 
 side of the cradle, my father on the other. He was 
 in deep black, she in pure white. I saw all this at a 
 glance. Mamma held out her hand to me, her face 
 was swollen with weeping, yet there was nothing sad 
 about it, it was full of resignation. I advanced as 
 
 ?2 
 
THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 if weights were attached to my feet, but the moment 
 she touched me, a rush of feeling swept over me, and 
 I wept a flood of tears. Mamma talked to me cheer- 
 fully as I leaned against her, and told me that our 
 baby suffered no more, he was happy with God ; she 
 tried to make me comprehend the difference between 
 body and soul. I was secretly conscious that she 
 was endeavoring to make the idea of death pleasant 
 to me. She wished me to kiss the cold face and 
 touch the cold hand, that I might lose my dread of 
 a corpse. I knew her object, though I had no dread. 
 I believed all she told me, but still I thought it was 
 a pity that God had set his heart on the baby when 
 there were three girls to choose from. Little Anne 
 was brought in, and Mary put her down by my side ; 
 she looked at the baby, and then her eyes slowly 
 turned first upon mother, then upon father, next 
 upon me, and finally back again to the cradle. "We 
 must not make any noise till he wakes up/' she 
 whispered, and went out of the room on tiptoe to 
 find her playthings. 
 
 For two days my little brother continued to stay 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 with us, lying in his coffin, which was placed in the 
 best chamber of the house, a very neat and a very 
 white room. The curtains and coverings were white, 
 and a tall white bed stood in a corner with curtains 
 that looked to me like clouds. On the mantel-piece 
 there were two tumblers, full of purple and yellow 
 amaranthus. I remembered how Mrs. Mason, our 
 old landlady, had gone stooping about the garden one 
 windy day of the last autumn, picking them from 
 under the dead leaves, and groaning a little over 
 each one because every stoop cost her a twinge of 
 rheumatism. They had blossomed about the time of 
 our baby's birth, but, frail as they looked, they had 
 outlived him. 
 
 It was February, but already a few snowdrops and 
 pale crocuses were shivering on their delicate stems 
 in the grass-plot before the house. Mamma made us 
 gather some of them and strew them over the baby's 
 breast, which was as white and cold as the wreaths of 
 snow among which they had bloomed into chilly life. 
 And at last a carriage with white horses took my 
 father and mother and the little coffin away to the 
 
 34 
 
THE POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 churchyard. I saw it drive off with a sharp pang at 
 my heart, but, child as I was, I soon forgot it in 
 looking, with Anne, at the pictures in " Buffon's 
 Natural History," which was opened for us upon 
 the sofa. 
 
 The next summer we were to leave England for 
 America. As the time of our departure drew near 
 there was of course a great deal of bustle and excite- 
 ment; people came and went, orders were given, 
 boxes packed, consultations held. Anne and I played 
 out doors all day long, and everybody who was to 
 stay behind did all that was possible to spoil us, 
 because we were going away. We had no lessons, 
 and our felicity was only interrupted by the necessity 
 of trying on a great many new frocks, during which 
 process I have no doubt we tried the patience of the 
 dressmaker even more than she did ours. 
 
 One afternoon, just before we sailed, mamma sent 
 us with Mary to the churchyard, that we might see for 
 the last time the place where our little brother was 
 laid. We were full of spirits, and went skipping and 
 shouting along the lanes till we were quite tired out 
 
 35 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 at last, and quite ready, when we reached the church- 
 yard, to stand silently by Mary's side and look down 
 upon the baby's grave. A large flat stone covered it, 
 and while I was trying to spell out the inscription 
 
 " Samuel, only son of Samuel and Mehi table G 
 
 Born Died " it suddenly grew very dark, 
 
 and when I looked up I saw a great black cloud 
 hovering directly over us. I remembered that it had 
 followed us all the way from home, and I thought it 
 was remarkable that it should stop just when we did. 
 " Mary," said I, " I dare say that cloud is going 
 to America just as we are, and it has come to bid 
 my little brother good by before it flies over the 
 water." Just then a few great drops fell heavily 
 upon the gravestone. "See, Mary," I cried, "it 
 sheds tears for our baby." And I was secretly 
 mortified and ashamed of myself that I could not 
 weep too. I kneeled down upon the marble slab, 
 and by a sort of clairvoyance I seemed to look 
 through it, down, down under the earth to where my 
 little brother was lying, pale, beautiful, and quiet, 
 with the snowdrops still drooping on his breast. 
 
III. 
 
 TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 WONDEB if all children dislike their nur- 
 
 sery as I did mine? The word 
 always makes me think of the great big room at 
 
 the very top of our house at M , covered with a 
 
 faded carpet, which, having first adorned the drawing- 
 room and then my mother's chamber, had finally 
 mounted to the third floor, where it enjoyed a thread- 
 bare old age, and found itself daily strewn with 
 battered dolls, broken tea-sets, torn books, carts 
 without wheels, and horses without legs. This room 
 was also a sort of hospital for decayed furniture, 
 and there was quite a large army of veteran chairs 
 and tables, whose limbs we children were allowed 
 to amputate at pleasure. No sooner did we enter 
 the house from school than Mary was directed to 
 take us "right up to the nursery, where we could 
 
 37 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 make as much noise as we chose ! " As if there 
 could be any pleasure in making a noise on such 
 easy terms ! So in the nursery we passed our days, 
 strictly forbidden to go " down stairs " on any pre- 
 text. This injunction of mamma's was a very wise 
 one; she did not wish us to play with the ser- 
 vants, about whose characters she knew nothing, 
 and she thought it right to accustom us to some 
 restraint, and not allow the whole house to be dis- 
 turbed by our noise and restlessness. She pro- 
 vided us with plenty of playthings; we went to 
 school, and walked daily in the " Infirmary Gar- 
 dens." We had sufficient variety, and I ought to 
 have been contented ; but Easselas grew tired of the 
 Happy Valley, and / grew tired of my nursery. 
 "Down stairs" gradually grew into my ideal of 
 Paradise : it was from " down stairs " that Betty 
 the cook used to send me magnificent yellow char- 
 iots, cut out of huge carrot, with round slices of 
 the same for wheels ; from " down stairs " as- 
 cended at five o'clock fragrant odors of dinner and 
 a cheerful sound of laughing and talking whenever 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 the dining-room door was open ; from "down stairs " 
 rousing knocks at the front door announced ladies 
 in rustling silks and waving plumes, who came to 
 visit mamma ; the hall lamp " down stairs " glowed 
 like a sun, and dazzled my eyes when I peeped over 
 the banisters ; even puss ran away from us when- 
 ever she could, and scampered " down stairs." I 
 did not blame her ; I myself lingered there always 
 as long as possible on my way from a walk or 
 from school. I admired everything there : the ma- 
 hogany stand in the entry, from whose branches 
 coats and hats seemed to be growing, while canes 
 and umbrellas sprouted from its feet ; the oval din- 
 ner-table, which the housemaid was often setting 
 towards evening, where the candles shone so brightly 
 upon the snowy cloth ; the silver and glass, and the 
 decanters of port and sherry, whose colors were as 
 bright as the purple and crimson jars at the chem- 
 ist's round the corner. Everybody drank wine in 
 those days. Ask your grandfathers, my little chil- 
 dren, if they do not remember how it sparkled by 
 candlelight when they went to dine with their old 
 
 39 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 friends, and sang songs and told stories and pro- 
 posed old-fashioned toasts. Yes, even the distant 
 sound of Betty poking the kitchen fire was pleas- 
 ant to me as I lingered " down stairs/' Above all, 
 it was the region which mamma inhabited, and 
 which she adorned by her graceful presence. We 
 were very proud of our mamma ; she was acknowl- 
 edged to be the "handsomest mother in school," 
 as my schoolfellows used to express it. 
 
 Sometimes, when there was company at dinner, 
 little Anne and I were sent for to come down when 
 dessert was carried in. On such occasions Mary 
 would curl our hair in precisely the same number 
 of curls, pull the bows of our sashes out very wide, 
 charge us not to turn in our toes, and to be sure 
 and walk into the room hand in hand. Some gen- 
 tleman guest generally took us, one on each knee, 
 trotted us to London and back, gave us raisins, in 
 spite of mamma's anxious looks, and perhaps in- 
 cited us to be so boisterous that we were finally 
 despatched in disgrace up stairs again, and put to 
 bed "out of hand/' as Mary used to say. 
 
 40 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 I remember one wet Sunday evening, when I had 
 been all day in the nursery and was more than usu- 
 ally anxious to go "down stairs/' more fretful and 
 cross than was customary, so that Mary exhorted, 
 remonstrated, scolded, finally assuring me that I was 
 the most troublesome child she ever saw, which 
 I dare say was true. At length, as a last resort, 
 she called me up to her, and whispered that if I 
 would be good, she would show me something beau- 
 tiful after the children were put to bed. Her mys- 
 terious air fired my imagination, and I became 
 "good" at once, and desperately anxious to assist 
 her in undressing the little ones. How impatiently 
 I watched her as she rocked Lucretia to sleep in a 
 low rocking-chair with a drowsy creak, singing 
 through the five long hymns without which "Miss 
 Lucretia never got sound" You may be sure I 
 held my breath, and would have stopped the beating 
 of my heart had I been able, during the ticklish 
 process of laying Miss Lucretia's head on the pillow, 
 when she was very apt to wake up again and cry for 
 the repetition of a dozen verses at least ! At length, 
 
 41 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the room being still, the fire renewed, the hearth 
 swept, Mary took the candle and went down stairs, 
 promising still, in a whisper, to show me the beauti- 
 ful something when she should return from her tea. 
 
 Left alone in the nursery with the dim red fire- 
 light, I fell into a very grave mood. Fantastic 
 shadows flickered along the walls as if they had 
 taken advantage of Mary's absence to come out 
 and warm themselves. A gentle rain and wind 
 struck the windows lightly, as if some sorrowful, 
 weeping, sighing spirit were quietly trying to undo 
 the fastening, and come in to warm itself also. I 
 stared into the fire, and the whirling smoke carried 
 my childish fancy with it, up, up, I did not know 
 where, but I was completely absorbed in wondering 
 about it, and very happy when Mary came back 
 with the candle and a thick gilt book in her hand. 
 She opened it at a place marked by a rich watered 
 ribbon, and with something quite solemn and ex- 
 pectant in her manner, laid it upon my knee. It 
 was a picture of little Samuel kneeling in his bed 
 with clasped hands and upward look, and Mary 
 
 42 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 read to me in a low voice the verse printed under- 
 neath, " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." I 
 was completely fascinated by this picture, and gazed 
 fixedly upon it; in the uncertain firelight close to 
 which I held it the features seemed to change ex- 
 pression and the lips to move. Mary thought me in 
 a promising mood, and as she was a pious girl she 
 tried in her simple way to explain the story of Sam- 
 uel. I understood her literally, and was very much 
 interested in the fact that God called not only Sam- 
 uel, but all little children as young as Samuel, if they 
 paid attention and listened for his voice. If they did, 
 she emphatically added that they "would be good 
 forevermore." I pondered long over this, wonder- 
 ing how it happened that I, a very light sleeper, 
 who waked up instantly if our cat mewed, or a 
 mouse squeaked ever so slightly, should never have 
 heard in the night that extraordinary sound, the 
 voice of God ! I was resolving to be more attentive 
 in future, when a dreadful thought occurred to me. 
 " Mary," said I, " how old was Samuel when God 
 called him ? " 
 
 43 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Mary was putting new shoe-strings into our shoes, 
 to be ready for the walk to school next day : " I 
 disremember," she answered shortly, and then, look- 
 ing at the picture with a puzzled face, she added, 
 " Four years old, there or thereabouts, I should say, 
 miss, by looking at his curls and his nightgown." 
 
 Yes, it was as I feared; Samuel was only four 
 years old, while I was six, too old to be called of 
 God ; I had not listened for his voice at the right 
 time, and now it was too late ! I was very indig- 
 nant with Mary for not telling me all this long ago, 
 and a pang of disappointment shot through me, 
 followed by a reflection which, I am sorry to say, 
 comforted me a little ; as I had not been " called " 
 I was not obliged " to be good forevermore." 
 
 I suppose Mary was pleased at seeing me so 
 quietly and thoughtfully pondering over her words, 
 as I sat in my little chair by the nursery fire, for, 
 after she had finished putting in new lacings to our 
 shoes, and set them side by side under the edge of 
 the bureau, with a clean pair of socks laid upon 
 each, she said, " And now, miss, I '11 read you some- 
 
 44 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAB. 
 
 thing." She produced from her box a tract with 
 crumpled leaves, which she smoothed on her knee, 
 as she told me it was all about a very little girl 
 named Martha, who was called of God in her cradle, 
 and who died when she was younger than I. Poor 
 Mary, she would have been shocked had she known 
 what was the only clear idea I received from all 
 her simple talk, that I was too old to begin to be 
 good, and that it was of no use to try, since I 
 had not been "called" in proper time. I went to 
 bed in despair, and with a feeling of great dislike 
 to the more fortunate Samuel and Martha; luckily 
 at six years one sleeps off despair and dislike. I 
 only remember one of the anecdotes which Mary 
 read to me concerning little Martha of the tract, 
 on that Sunday evening. She was a very poor 
 child, to whom a bun was a great treat, but some- 
 body once gave her one, and in a transport of 
 pious self-denial she ventured into the street and 
 offered it to the first person she met. This person 
 chanced to be a lady carrying a small basket in her 
 hand, out of which she produced two Queen-cakes, 
 
 45 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 which she gave Martha in exchange for her bun. 
 I resolved that I would some day imitate this act 
 of virtue on Martha's part ; it would not be too 
 difficult even for one who had not been " called/' 
 and I did so after this fashion. 
 
 Every summer a great fair was held in M , 
 
 and, as we were always living in the country at 
 that season, an old bachelor friend of my father's 
 once begged permission to take me to the city 
 during the fair, and show me all its sights. I was 
 six years old, as my mother reminded me, when 
 she straightened the bows of my sash, and tied on 
 my hat, in preparation for this great event, too old 
 to disgrace my family by putting my elbows on 
 the table, or kicking the " rungs " of my chair, for 
 I was to dine with good Mr. Swan at his bachelor 
 lodgings in M I was in an agony of impa- 
 tience, for he was waiting for me at the door in his 
 gig, but my mother would not let me go till she had 
 carefully smoothed on every finger of my gloves, 
 pinned one clean handkerchief to my side, as we 
 were not allowed pockets, and concealed another in 
 
 4G 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 the bosom of my frock, " in case of nose-bleed," she 
 said, for her previsions were wonderful ; at the same 
 time giving me a long list of directions for my 
 behavior, something after this style : 
 
 What to do. What not to do. 
 
 Always to say "Please" and Not to say "I don't like tur- 
 
 " Thank you," at table, and nip," if any was put on my 
 
 plate. 
 
 To eat what was put on my Not to take large mouthfuls. 
 
 plate without remark. 
 
 To keep tight hold of Mr. Not to stand on the outside of 
 
 Swan's hand in the streets. my feet. 
 
 To wash my face and hands Not to let a thief snatch away 
 
 after eating. my handkerchief. 
 
 To lay my hat down in a Not to ask Mr. Swan to buy 
 
 clean place. me anything at the Fair, 
 
 To pull up my socks when but not to forget to thank 
 
 necessary. him if he did. 
 
 Generally. 
 Not to be troublesome. 
 
 All the events of this day are impressed on my 
 memory, as it was the first I ever spent away from 
 my mother and the children. 
 
 What a day it was ! On looking back to it, it 
 
 47 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 seems to have been a week long, at least. We made 
 first a tour of the stalls which lined the streets, and 
 poor Mr. Swan must have had a hard time of it in 
 pulling me along, for, 0, how fascinating they were ! 
 What a delicious smell of varnish from the cheap 
 toys ; how I longed to take " between my two 
 motherly arms " all the dolls in pink and blue glazed 
 cambric ; how I longed to stop and work the little 
 churns, and set out the little tea-sets, and draw up 
 and down the lambs on wheels ! How I trembled 
 with excitement when Mr. Swan showed symptoms 
 of noticing any particular toy, I was so hoping he 
 would buy something for me ! I had to bite my lips 
 in order to obey mamma's injunction not to ask him 
 to do so. At last, probably noticing my anxious 
 face, he took up a toy windmill, evidently with the 
 intention of investing a penny therein for my benefit, 
 when lo ! the vanes came out in his hand, as he tried 
 to whirl them. This seemed to me such a dreadful 
 accident that I did not wonder at the clamor set up 
 by the woman who kept the stall. ."There, take 
 your penny/' said Mr. Swan, handing her that coin 
 
 48 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 and the broken windmill together. " These wretched 
 toys are not worth buying, my dear/' he said to me ; 
 " you don't care for them, do you ? they would not 
 hold together till you got home/' I could not tell a 
 lie, so I said nothing ; but I was terribly disap- 
 pointed. I thought I might at least have had the 
 broken windmill which he had paid for. The tears 
 came into my eyes ; I think he noticed them, because 
 I was obliged to turn my head so awkwardly in 
 reaching for my handkerchief wherewith to wipe 
 them away. 
 
 We happened to be just passing the last stall, and 
 Mr. Swan, casting a hurried glance around at the 
 treasures displayed there, hastily produced another 
 penny, and purchased for me a fly-trap, in the 
 shape of a miniature house painted yellow, with a red 
 roof, a green chimney, and a blue door which slid up 
 and down, and formed one end of the house. I 
 understood the construction of this artful trap in a 
 moment. " See, O, see, Mr. Swan," I cried joyfully, 
 " you pull up the door, and if it don't stay, you can 
 tie it to the chimney, you know 0, 1 forgot if you 
 
 49 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 please No, thank you very much and then you 
 put a bit of sugar on the floor inside, and when the 
 fly walks in to eat it, you shut down the door as 
 quick as a wink. O, what a useful thing ! so much 
 usefuller to have than just a plaything only to play 
 with, a baby plaything/'' I added, feeling all the 
 dignity of my six years. " Our flies are getting to 
 bother us, Mary says, and I can catch them in my 
 trap, and help mamma very much. How glad she will 
 be, when she sees me bringing home such a useful 
 thing ! " 
 
 To insure the safety of this valuable article, Mr. 
 Swan put the fly-trap into his pocket to carry home 
 for me. I was afraid he might accidentally sit upon 
 it and break it, and I wondered if it would be polite 
 in me to remind him of it, if I saw him about to 
 seat himself. 
 
 Then this kind friend took me to the Menagerie ; 
 it was WombwelFs celebrated Menagerie, which made 
 a yearly progress through the country during the 
 season of fairs, and this was my first visit thereto. 
 Mr. Swan was very tall, and he perched me upon his 
 
 50 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 shoulder, so that I could gaze into the very eyes of 
 the elephant, and look down upon the lions and tigers, 
 while other children were pushing their way to the 
 ropes in front of the cages, and standing on tiptoe 
 to catch a glimpse of any tawny paws and noses that 
 might be thrust between the bars. And what ex- 
 traordinary pockets Mr. Swan had ! If he was tall, 
 they were long, and as inexhaustible as his good- 
 nature. He had nuts for the monkeys, apples for the 
 elephant, bits of sugar for the gazelle, buns for 
 the bears and for me ; moreover, he let me give these 
 nice things to the animals all myself, and even when 
 the elephant felt in all his pockets for broken biscuit 
 in the most coaxing way, he would not give him a 
 bit, handing up to me every fragment instead; for 
 which I made a sort of table out of the top of his hat. 
 I thought this self-denial of Mr. Swan's more wonder- 
 ful than anything Martha of the tract had ever done. 
 The two famous lions, Wallace and Nero, were in 
 this Menagerie. When we stopped in front of their 
 cages, I bent my ear down towards Mr. Swan's chin, 
 uplifted sideways, that I might listen to the story he 
 
 51 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 told me of these lions being once forced by sporting 
 men to fight with bull-dogs. Wallace, who was very 
 savage, killed all Us dogs easily, but Nero refused 
 to hurt those who attacked him, contenting himself 
 with just keeping them at a distance with long 
 sweeps of his huge paws. My heart warmed to 
 Nero as he lay asleep in his cage, making a pillow of 
 his mane, that looked as amiable as if it had been 
 made of ringlets, while Wallace, next door, was 
 grumbling to himself in short snaps and snarls. In 
 a few moments a keeper entered Nero's cage, and 
 began to tease the poor tired creature by shaking his 
 paws, pulling his ears, and stretching open his eyes 
 and mouth, which made the wondering crowd do the 
 same as they stood looking on. Then the keeper 
 stepped upon the prostrate body, as if it had been 
 a platform, and made a speech which I could n't 
 understand, the words seemed longer and harder than 
 any I had yet come to in my spelling-book. Then 
 he got down again, and threw open the cage door, 
 and after some hesitation a man and woman came 
 up out of the crowd, and, entering the cage, took 
 
 52 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 seats on the lion's body as if it were a sofa. Then 
 I remember that my heart began to beat suddenly 
 and violently, for Mr. Swan asked me if I would like 
 to do the same, and then I was somehow lifted and 
 carried and handed about, and at last felt myself, 
 I hardly know how, sitting on the warm spring-seat 
 of the lion's back, which went up and clown, up and 
 down, like clock-work under my light weight. I 
 was alone in the cage, for the keeper had withdrawn 
 for a moment to heighten the effect of the tableau, 
 and the people outside clapped and hurrahed. I 
 recollect venturing to pat the lion with a very small 
 hand, which I suppose he scarcely felt ; and, finding 
 him so quiet, I wiped a little place on his warm side 
 with my handkerchief, and stooped to kiss it. There 
 was another burst of cheering and clapping, and then 
 I found myself walking away again on Mr. Swan's 
 shoulder. 
 
 He must have had quite enough of me by this 
 time, for I recollect playing quietly in the kitchen 
 through the afternoon, with Mrs. Airy the landlady ; 
 she had flying cap-strings and curls, and a breezy way 
 
 63 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 of running back and forth between the range and the 
 dresser, which made her name very appropriate. She 
 was making cake, and as I believe I had never eaten 
 a piece of cake in my life, the very smell of it, as it 
 was baking, was a feast. Mrs. Airy's was an area- 
 kitchen, and a flight of steps led from the doorway 
 up into the street. I amused myself by standing on 
 these steps with my eyes at a level with the sidewalk, 
 and imagining how the world must look to such 
 short-legged creatures as dogs and cats ; then, return- 
 ing to the kitchen, I stood upon a chair, and tried 
 to get Mrs. Airy's point of view by making myself as 
 tall as she was. I was already tired of my fly-trap, 
 for I did not know what to do with the flies after I 
 had caught them, and they hurt my feelings by buzz- 
 ing inside to be let out. I determined to turn it into 
 a summer-house for our gardens, and keep the door 
 permanently tied to the chimney. 
 
 I had never been allowed to stay in the kitchen at 
 home, and I suppose I troubled Mrs. Airy extremely 
 by asking, like Miss Edgeworth's Frank, all sorts of 
 questions about the simplest kitchen-furniture which 
 
 54 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 I saw there for the first time. At last she gave me a 
 bunch of raisins, and told me to go to the top of the 
 steps and eat them, while I might also be watching 
 for Mr. Swan to appear with his horse and gig to 
 take me home. Hardly had I taken my seat on the 
 top step when I saw a poor woman coming slowly 
 along, and with a covered basket on her arm. In- 
 stantly I thought of Martha of the tract; here was 
 my opportunity, I would give this poor woman my 
 bunch of raisins, and probably get in exchange, out 
 of her basket, something I liked much better. No 
 sooner thought than done. As the woman passed me, 
 I jumped up and offered her my raisins, saying, as 
 sweetly as I knew how, " Here is something for you." 
 The woman looked surprised, but she took the raisins, 
 and in a whining voice she drawled out, " May the 
 Saints be your bed, my purty dear," and popped them 
 into her basket, but alas! without offering me any- 
 thing in return. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing in 
 the basket but scraps of dry bread and cold potatoes. 
 I stood indignant, after the woman had walked off, 
 feeling that I had been cheated out of my raisins, 
 
 55 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and much disposed to cry about it, till it suddenly 
 occurred to me to go down and tell Mrs. Airy what 
 I had done. She would think me so good, as good 
 perhaps as Martha of the tract, and would probably 
 give me some more raisins at least, perhaps something 
 even nicer. So down I went to Mrs. Airy, who 
 was sitting in a rush-bottomed chair, with her floury 
 elbow on the pie-board, deep in the perusal of the 
 Cookery-Book. As she did not seem to notice me, I 
 was obliged to speak first. " What do you think I 
 have done ? " I said. 
 
 " Not torn your frock, nor lost your handkerchief, 
 I hope," she answered in quick alarm. 
 
 " 0, no," I said, with a smile of conscious virtue, 
 " no indeed, but I have given away my raisins to a 
 poor woman." 
 
 " Dear me, what made you do that ? " said Mrs. 
 Airy, getting up from her chair, and walking away. 
 
 " Now she is going to the closet to get me some- 
 thing nice," I thought to myself, and I added aloud, 
 " Yes, all, every one, every single one." Mrs. 
 Airy by this time had reached the kitchen-sink. 
 
 56 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 " Won't you come and pump for me, there 's a 
 good child, and I '11 just wash my hands and arms 
 here/' she said. I jumped up with alacrity, thinking 
 that she was washing her hands with the intention 
 of rewarding me from her store of goodies. Impa- 
 tiently I waited while she wiped them on the kitchen 
 roller, and then she turned about and walked up 
 stairs. In short, I got nothing by the loss of my 
 raisins except perhaps a good night's rest, for prob- 
 ably they would have given me the nightmare if I 
 had eaten them. 
 
 To return to the nursery, from which I have wan- 
 dered a good way. Its windows looked out upon a 
 desolate wilderness of house-tops ; the roofs and stacks 
 of chimneys grouped about in confusion reminded 
 me of the appearance of cities after they had been 
 shaken by earthquakes, as I had heard the children at 
 school describe them, out of their geography lessons. 
 Nothing appeared on these roofs but cats and spar- 
 rows, watching each other furtively, and sometimes a 
 mason in a paper cap who worked on the chimneys, 
 or the occasional apparition of a man's head popping 
 
 57 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 up from a scuttle, like a Jack in a box. I soon got 
 tired of scanning the house-tops, and found it more 
 interesting to look down into the yards below. A 
 certain poor woman used to come into our yard daily, 
 a wretchedly poor woman, all skin and bone, with a 
 faded rag of a petticoat, barefooted, and witli the 
 remnant of a shawl over her tangled hair, and she 
 brought with her always a skeleton baby, with claw- 
 fingers like a little bird's foot ; weak and thin as it 
 was, the poor mother could not have carried it, had 
 it been any heavier. The poor woman would stand 
 in the yard, in a diffident, doubtful way, as if ready 
 to vanish at a word, and Betty, the cook, would 
 appear with such "cold victuals " as there were to 
 spare. With the deepest interest I would watch the 
 poor woman's trembling hands, as she rolled the 
 scraps of food in her ragged apron, for basket or bag 
 she had none, courtesy ing to Betty in humble thank- 
 fulness. Then my beautiful mother, so young and 
 blooming, in her white dress, would be seen walking 
 slowly along from the kitchen, carrying a glass of 
 milk for the poor baby. The wretched little thing 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 would lift its head from its mother's bony shoulder, 
 and stretch out those two claw-like hands, as soon 
 as it saw the milk. And when once it had raised the 
 glass to its pale mouth, nothing could induce it to 
 stop drinking till every drop was drained. It held 
 the cup to its lips with all the strength of starva- 
 tion. Sometimes my mother let me come down and 
 stand by her side and look at this poor baby, and 
 never shall I forget the heart-rending tones of the 
 poor mother when she made her invariable speech of 
 thanks to my mother : " God bless you, ma'am, and 
 may you never want ! " 
 
 I happened to be with my mother on the day when 
 this poor woman came to our home for the last time 
 before we left England. The memory of her grief, 
 her agony, haunts me still. Where she found the 
 flood of tears she shed, in her poor wasted body, I 
 cannot imagine. Wringing her hands, she cried out, 
 over and over again, " O ma'am, you are going 
 away ! Baby, our only friend is going away ! 0, 
 what shall we do, what shall we do ? We shall 
 starve to death, baby, we shall starve to death." 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 What misery existed among the poor of England 
 in those days ! 
 
 Our next neighbor, Mr. Anthony, had a very large 
 house and a very large yard, which at certain times 
 of day swarmed with children, for Mr. Anthony had 
 fourteen boys and girls, as near of an age as they 
 could well be. I soon selected my favorite from 
 among them, a little girl rather older than myself, 
 about eight or nine years old, whose movements I 
 watched with great interest ; she laughed louder 
 than any of her brothers and sisters, climbed higher, 
 jumped farther, and I often burst into involuntary 
 loud laughs, myself, at some of her gymnastics. She 
 was so handsome, too, I thought; as painters say, 
 her coloring was very fine, for her eyes, her hair, 
 and her silk apron were black, and her lips, cheeks, 
 and merino frock were red. I teased Mary to find 
 out for me what her name was, and she told me it 
 was Hem'ly, which mamma said meant Emily. We 
 sometimes met in the street, when Emily would 
 return a frank greeting to my smile of recognition. 
 In fact, she had not romped all her life with four- 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 teen brothers and sisters without acquiring a great 
 deal of confidence, but this I knew was necessary to 
 a heroine, and the heroine of ' my childish imagina- 
 tion Emily Anthony forthwith became. At last her 
 mamma sent her to our school ; fancy my delight 
 when I found her there one morning, occupying the 
 seat next to mine, and staring about her as compos- 
 edly as if she were in her father's yard. 
 
 The divine Emily tolerated my devotion to her 
 very good-naturedly, and allowed me to wait upon 
 her, to wash her slate, pick up her handkerchief, find 
 the place in her spelling-book, and prompt her when 
 we stood up to recite, which I did at the imminent 
 risk of being overheard by the teacher, and con- 
 demned to wear a sampler pinned to my waist for 
 the rest of the day as a punishment. 
 
 My beloved friend had also a trick of perpetually 
 nibbling sweet things when she could get them, and 
 I was very jealous of the caresses which she bestowed 
 upon those of the girls who gave her sugar-plums and 
 candy. I secretly determined that when I grew up 
 I would open a confectionery store, and that Emily 
 
 61 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Anthony should sit behind the counter all day and 
 help herself at pleasure to the stock in trade. But, 
 alas ! I was not obliged to wait so long before gratifying 
 her propensities ; a great temptation fell in my way. 
 
 About this time mamma began to allow us to take 
 tea with her in the parlor, and, after tea, she was 
 accustomed to send me to the sideboard to put away 
 the tea-caddy, sugar-bowl, and other small articles. 
 The very first time mamma put this sugar-bowl into 
 my hands I wished that I could give Emily just 
 one lump, and though I drove away the thought, it 
 grew upon me every day, till, at last, one unhappy 
 evening, in a sudden impulse yet with great trepida- 
 tion, I seized a bit of sugar from the bowl just 
 before shutting the sideboard door, and concealed 
 it in the bosom of my frock, for mamma did not 
 allow us to wear pockets. My terror was excessive, 
 for I thought mother knew everything, and that she 
 would see the lump of sugar right through my dress, 
 lying against my palpitating heart. I kept in the 
 dark as much as possible, and as soon as I went 
 up stairs I hastened to deposit my ill-gotten treasure 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 in a little tin teapot belonging to my doll's furni- 
 ture. 
 
 That night I had very bad dreams, and next morn- 
 ing would have given anything to have been able to 
 return the lump of sugar unobserved, but, as this 
 was impossible, I did what I thought the next best 
 thing, and carried it to Emily ; whatever remorse I 
 felt was changed to joy when I beheld the satisfaction 
 with which she crushed it between her little white 
 teeth. She rewarded ine by making me a present 
 of an old needle-book with the flannel leaves torn 
 out, and, better than that, she bestowed caresses upon 
 me profusely, and begged me to bring her some 
 sugar next day, averring that it was "a deal nicer 
 than comfits. " My enthusiasm was completely 
 roused, and I felt it was both an honor and a duty 
 to steal sugar for Emily Anthony. When papa at 
 tea-time read from the newspaper an account of a 
 poor woman who was arrested for stealing a loaf of 
 bread to keep her child from starving, and who 
 defended her conduct boldly before the magistrate, I 
 found a strong resemblance between her devotion to 
 
 63 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 her child and mine to Emily. It was some time 
 before I was convinced that mamma was not ubiqui- 
 tous, and that she was entirely unsuspicious of me, 
 but as soon as I discovered that I was mistaken in 
 the extent of her discernment, I rushed to the other 
 extreme, and began to entertain a profound contempt 
 for it. I helped myself to sugar before her very 
 eyes, and after depositing it in my teapot, would 
 dance about her like a wild Indian, rattling it in 
 her ears, and begging her, urging her, to guess what 
 was inside. 
 
 But, one night, having grown very bold, I helped 
 myself at the table to two lumps of sugar, each larger 
 than common ; mamma's back was towards me, and 
 I thought myself quite safe, but before I could pop 
 them as usual into the bosom of my frock, she turned 
 suddenly round and bade me make haste, and carry 
 away the sugar-bowl. Forced to obey her, I closed 
 a hand awkwardly over each lump, and took up the 
 bowl between my two fists. 
 
 "Peasy," said mamma, "that is a very careless 
 way of taking things up, you will certainly drop the 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAft. 
 
 sugar-bowl ; put it down and then open your hands, 
 and carry it in a proper manner/' 
 
 This,, alas ! I could not do without betraying my- 
 self, and mamma, seeing my embarrassment, opened 
 my hands for me, and saw my guilt at once. 
 
 I cannot describe the violent and agonizing change 
 in my feelings. I had never dreamed of tasting a 
 morsel of the sugar myself, and so great was the as- 
 cendency which Emily Anthony had obtained over my 
 imagination, that I thought it impossible to do wrong 
 in serving her, and I had gloried in my sin, entirely 
 unconscious that it was a sin. But now my conscience 
 woke up strong and suddenly from its lethargy, and 
 lashed me with a whip of scorpions. The scales fell 
 from my eyes, and I saw myself a thief of the basest 
 kind, who had deceived mamma's unbounded confi- 
 dence, and had forever lost all right to her esteem 
 and affection. In the midst of my misery papa 
 entered the room. 
 
 " See/' said my mother to him, " see this little 
 thief. I trust her with our property, and this is the 
 way she rewards us/' 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 She exhibited my passive hands,, with the half- 
 melted sugar still adhering to the burning palms ; if 
 I could have summoned an earthquake to destroy 
 
 the city of M , and bury me under its ruins, I 
 
 would gladly have done so. 
 
 Papa ordered me up stairs at once, and indeed 
 I did not feel fit to stay in their presence, and hardly 
 dared to enter the once despised nursery, which I 
 now felt was far too good a place for me. I kept 
 aloof from little Anne, who was eating bread and 
 milk in her low chair, with puss watching at her 
 side. I would not even have polluted the cat by 
 stroking her. 
 
 For two days I was in disgrace, and confined to 
 the nursery. Papa and mamma never spoke to me, 
 nor caressed me, but looked at me with grave and 
 anxious faces. Mary followed their example, and I 
 thought puss walked past me with a contemptuous 
 wave of the tail. Little Anne alone treated me as 
 usual, and seemed quite unconscious of my position ; 
 but I suddenly found myself grown very much older, 
 and while I respected her superior goodness, I looked 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 down upon her as upon a very little child. When 
 any one entered the nursery, I rushed to the window 
 and looked out perseveringly till the person was gone, 
 but you may be sure I turned away my eyes from 
 Mr. Anthony's yard. I could not endure the thought 
 of Emily and her fourteen brothers and sisters; I 
 wished myself a sparrow or even a rat, anything 
 but a wicked little thief. Mamma made me learn 
 a number of hymns and verses applicable to my case, 
 which I repeated to her in an agony of shame, feel- 
 ing that they were written expressly for me, and 
 wondering how the authors could have known so long 
 ago that such a naughty girl would be born into the 
 world. I was not allowed to say my prayers at 
 mamma's knee, nor did she kiss me when I went to 
 bed, where I cried myself to sleep as softly as pos- 
 sible, with my head under the bed-clothes; it was 
 a comfort to put Anne's hand under my cheek after 
 she was asleep, and to soak through her little night- 
 gown sleeve with my tears. As for the tin teapot, 
 I hated the sight of it ; I bent and pummelled it 
 into a shapeless mass, and threw it among the cin- 
 
 67 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ders under the grate. My first gleam of pleasure 
 was in seeing Mary carry it away unconsciously to 
 the ash-bin. 
 
 On the third morning papa entered at an unusual 
 hour, and, calling me to him, took me on his knee, 
 and talked to me gravely but very kindly about my 
 sin ; he told me that if I was heartily sorry for it, 
 God would forgive me, and that they would receive 
 me back into favor. Never had repentance been 
 more sincere than mine, and he was convinced of it. 
 The tears which his sympathy caused to pour over 
 my cheeks washed away all the unprofitable bitter- 
 ness of my grief, and left me with an earnest desire 
 to do better and repair my fault. When mamma 
 came in she kissed me, and spoke to me as usual, and 
 I felt as happy as Christian when his bundle fell from 
 his back. Mary immediately became very gracious, 
 and puss amiably accepted a bit of my breakfast 
 which I ventured to offer her. 
 
 I had a great many unhappy doubts as to whether 
 mamma would find it possible to have full confidence 
 in me again, but though my feelings were grown up, 
 
TWO LUMPS OF SUGAR. 
 
 my language was the language of a child, and I had 
 no power of expressing them to her. I remember 
 nothing more about Emily Anthony, except that I 
 returned her the dilapidated needle-book. She had 
 entirely lost her influence over me, and in future I 
 could watch her gambols in the yard with a stern and 
 sarcastic composure. 
 
IV. 
 
 "WELLINGTON. 
 
 jL children love animals ; the baby six months 
 old plunges its hands rapturously into poor 
 kitty's fur, and endeavors to get her head into its 
 mouth, while the little brother next in age drags 
 her away by the tail and tries to make her comfort- 
 able by rocking her violently in the cradle, knocking 
 her poor head from side to side till she springs out 
 with a loud " miau" and takes refuge under the sofa, 
 from whence no tears and entreaties can coax her, 
 no trailing strings, no rolling balls, no poking of 
 broom-handles, can dislodge her, and the poor babies 
 are heart-broken. My first loves were the rats in our 
 
 yard at M Safe in my nurse's arms I used to 
 
 watch them dodging behind the boxes and barrels ; 
 now a long tail, now a sharp nose and bright eyes, 
 
 70 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 would pop out, as they squealed and tumbled over 
 each other. In vain I held out my piece of bread to 
 them and called out in my most fascinating tones, 
 " Here, yat, yat, yat," I could never teach them to 
 come and eat out of my hand. We had to put the 
 bread down, and withdraw to a respectful distance, if 
 we wanted to get a full view of my favorites, who were 
 pretty sure, after a careful inspection of the premises, 
 to rush out and drag it away in a little whirlwind of 
 dust, without so much as a look of gratitude. I 
 could not blame their bad manners, for Bob, our big 
 mouser, would generally be sunning himself on the 
 shed, or on the stone sill of the kitchen window, and 
 the rats and I were equally afraid of him. He was an 
 immense yellow cat, who could stretch and swell him- 
 self out as big almost as a lion, I used to think, and 
 his buff-ringed tail would wave and quiver till I felt 
 as sure it would bite me as if it had been a poisonous 
 snake. I did not like to be left in the room alone 
 with him, for he claimed the hearth-rug as his private 
 property, and if I ventured to approach it, he greeted 
 me with a growl like distant thunder ; he had besides 
 
 71 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 a way of fixing his eye upon me in a very unpleasant 
 manner. I was so afraid he would mistake me for 
 a rat, though I tried to look as little like one as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 Mamma had a canary who sang delightfully, but 
 he was hung so high up in a lofty room, to be out of 
 Bob's reach, that we never got much acquainted with 
 him. I thought he was a great deal nearer to heaven 
 than he was to us, and that he was God's bird, sing- 
 ing his beautiful songs for God alone. He used to 
 flutter and chirp in a terrified way when mamma took 
 his cage down to clean it, till at last the morning 
 came when he was found lying very still on the bottom 
 of it, with his slender claws held up piteously, very 
 like a certain picture in our " Death and Burial of 
 Poor Cock Bobin." Anne and I endeavored to bury 
 him according to the forms prescribed in that book. 
 While she "carried the link," a lead-pencil with a 
 bit of red rag tied to one end, I was " the owl so 
 brave, who dug " Canary's " grave," in the scrap of 
 flower border in the yard. Afterwards, wrapping 
 him in a doll's muslin apron for a pall, and shutting 
 
 72 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 him up ill a paper box for a coffin, I carried him to 
 the grave in my mouth, and waved my arms in imita- 
 tion of the wings of the kite who bore Cock Robin's 
 coffin through the air in a similar manner. We set 
 up a piece of broken slate for headstone, on which 
 we got mamma to write the following couplet : 
 
 "Under this stone 
 Lies our canary's bone." 
 
 You see he was so small we thought he could not 
 have more than one bone in his body. The first rain 
 washed away the epitaph, but before that time we had 
 forgotten all about him. 
 
 At our country lodgings we had Moll to play 
 with. She was a white mastiff of great strength and 
 size, who bore our teasing as patiently as she bore the 
 awkward gambols of her puppies. We endeavored 
 to assist her in their education by trying to teach 
 them to stand on their legs. With infinite pains we 
 set them up on their feet, stretched very far apart, and 
 when they reeled and tottered and rolled over, we 
 patiently began again. We thought they improved 
 
 73 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 under our instruction every day, and took great 
 credit to ourselves when at last they could stagger 
 along without tumbling down the whole distance 
 between Anne's lap and mine, fully a quarter of a 
 yard. But, alas ! just at this period of advancement 
 the puppies were removed and given away, and Moll 
 howled in concert with us. 
 
 Moll died one winter while we were in town, and 
 next spring we found Fan, the spaniel, reigning in her 
 stead. But we did not like her; she was always 
 scampering about with her nose to the ground, tongue 
 lolling out of her mouth, and her long chocolate- 
 colored ears napping against the side of her head like 
 winglets. She used to burst in upon us like a little 
 hurricane, upsetting our sedate dolls' school just as 
 our pupils were studying their lessons off bits of 
 newspaper pinned to their knees, or scattering our 
 dinner dishes nicely set out upon a cricket, just as we 
 Mrs. Howard and Mrs. Fitz-Clarence, as we called 
 ourselves were sitting down to an elegant repast. 
 Out of sheer disgust to Pan, we began to take a great 
 interest in a poor forlorn turkey, the only turkey 
 
 74 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 among the poultry which pecked about the barnyard 
 industriously. It looked very patriarchal with its 
 bald head and long red beard, but its behavior was 
 very undignified, it was so timid and bewildered. It 
 was always standing on one leg in an anxious man- 
 ner, and squeezing under the hedge, or huddling its 
 feathers in a heap as it clung to the lowest branch of 
 an apple-tree. It hovered behind the other fowls 
 when we went out to feed them with crumbs, and if 
 we threw a handful far enough to reach it, it ran off 
 in a fright, and the big rooster would walk up in a 
 stately way and swallow every morsel, the poor turkey 
 looking dismally on from behind the pump. We 
 pitied it because it had no mate to gobble at and to 
 strut before, and we paid it great attention, so that at 
 last it came to eat fearlessly out of our hands, and 
 kept us company whenever we played out of doors, 
 walking after us with its light springing step like a 
 friendly spy. Pan used to rush upon it sometimes, 
 when the poor thing would look just ready to faint 
 away ; but we in turn charged upon Fan with pina- 
 fores outspread and armed with sticks, and happy 
 
 75 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 was she who managed to box Fan's ears. We com- 
 forted our poor turkey with bits of bun, and it bowed 
 its head gratefully before us, picking them one at a 
 time from our laps. Prom being " the thinnest tur- 
 key in the four kingdoms/' as Mrs. Mason averred, it 
 became the fattest, its feathers grew sleek and shining, 
 it stood firmly on two strong legs, instead of on a 
 single trembling one. Mrs. Mason called it my tur- 
 key, that is, she said I should have it for my birthday 
 present. My birthday occurred late in the autumn, 
 
 and we were to return to M soon afterwards. 
 
 Anne and I laid a hundred plans ,for conveying our 
 turkey to the city per basket or meal-bag, and for 
 constructing him a coop in the yard, well barricaded 
 against the rats ; we hoped he would not be much 
 afraid of them, he was already beginning to make a 
 faint show of standing his ground against Fan, which 
 promised well, and, in good hopes that his courage 
 would grow as his body had done, we agreed to call 
 him Great-Heart. 
 
 On the afternoon before my birthday we went out 
 to see Great-Heart, and to give him some cold boiled 
 
 76 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 rice as an earnest of what we would do for him when 
 he was really our own bird. While he was eating we 
 smoothed his feathers and told him wonderful stories 
 
 about M and the yard, and the coop that was to 
 
 be, carefully avoiding the subject of rats. It was 
 very cold, and our teeth chattered as fast as our 
 tongues, but Great-Heart was now too plump and 
 sleek to mind the cold, so we assisted him to mount 
 his favorite perch in the barnyard, and ran in to pick 
 out our very prettiest bit of ribbon wherewith to 
 decorate him next day. 
 
 On the following day, therefore, we woke up as 
 bright as the morning sun without and the spark- 
 ling fires within ; we put on new frocks, and mamma 
 gave us our best playthings, while the lesson books 
 were laid away on an upper shelf. As soon as we 
 had swallowed our breakfast, we ran into the kitchen, 
 ribbon in hand. There was to be company at dinner, 
 so Mrs. Mason and her maid Jane were very busy 
 making puddings and tarts and cakes, but they left off 
 to smile upon us, and to wish me many happy birth- 
 days ; kind Mrs. Mason wiped the flour off her hands, 
 
 77 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and brought from the depths of her pocket a crockery 
 sheep with deep red spots on his sides, lying under a 
 green crockery tree, which she told me was a birthday 
 present, while Jane gave me a peppermint heart of 
 the largest size, which she took from between the 
 leaves of the cookery-book. I kissed them both, 
 mistress and maid, standing on the points of my 
 toes. 
 
 "And you said I should have Great- Heart, the 
 turkey I mean, on my birthday, didn't you, Mrs. 
 Mason ? ~" said I, " and he 's mine now, ain't he ? 
 so I 'm going to see him." 
 
 " Yes, deary, I said you should have him, and 
 I \e kept my word, sure enough ; he 's just out 
 doors there if you want to look at him." 
 
 Off we ran again, calling " Great-Heart ! Great- 
 Heart ! " as fast as we could, for it was not an easy 
 name to speak fast, and at last running up against 
 him before we noticed him. What a terrible sight 
 met our horrified eyes ! Poor Great-Heart tied up 
 against the wall by both legs, a great slit in his neck, 
 which hung down limp and lifeless, and a small 
 
 78 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 puddle of blood underneath. He was stone dead. 
 Anne burst into tears of grief, and I into a storm of 
 passion. I flew back to Mrs. Mason, and seized her 
 fiercely by the dress, quite speechless with rage and 
 horror for a moment. 
 
 " O deary, the flour ! the flour ! don't touch me, it 
 will be all over your frock, and what will mamma 
 say?" cried she, holding her hands up out of my 
 reach. 
 
 "I don't want to touch you, you bad woman!" 
 I broke forth, suddenly letting go my hold of her. 
 " How dared you kill my turkey, you cruel, wicked 
 woman ! I hate you with all my heart, and I '11 break 
 your sheep's neck just as you broke poor Great- 
 Heart's." And thereupon I flung the crockery sheep 
 across the kitchen, where it was broken into a dozen 
 pieces against the bars of the grate. 
 
 " Deary me ! " said poor Mrs. Mason, astonished, 
 " why, did n't you know I always meant to give you 
 the turkey for your birthday dinner ? Did n't I say 
 so, deary? Why, I thought you'd like it, so I did. 
 Now don't ye cry, don't ye, dearies, and I '11 give 
 
 79 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 you old Top-Knot herself instead. She 's a deal nicer 
 old creetur than that stupid " 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! " cried I, fiercely. " What," 
 thought I, " cut Great-Hearths throat and then insult 
 him ? " My grief redoubled, but my fury was soon 
 over; and I wept as piteously as Anne did. I 
 began to be a very little sorry, too, that I had 
 broken my present, but I would not allow it to 
 myself. 
 
 The company arrived, excellent friends of ours as 
 well as of papa and mamma. I received some pretty 
 books and games, and my sorrow was somewhat 
 soothed, especially as mamma sympathized with us 
 very much, when she found how we had been de- 
 ceiving ourselves. If she had known of my bad 
 behavior to Mrs. Mason, she would have sent me 
 immediately to ask pardon, and that I vowed I never 
 would do, never, never; but I was not put to 
 the test. 
 
 At dinner-time we sat one on each side of mamma, 
 and a great way from the turkey, which was placed 
 before papa. "We did not turn our eyes in that 
 
 80 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 direction, but, in spite of this precaution, a good 
 many tears dropped from them, which we wiped 
 stealthily away on our printed pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 Papa had the good sense not to offer us any of his 
 dish, and we managed to get half-way through dinner 
 decently. We listened with a great deal of indig- 
 nation, and some pride also, to the careless comments 
 of the company upon the superior size and flavor 
 of poor Great- Heart. "What did they fatten him 
 upon, I wonder?" said one of the guests. 
 
 " Buns/' said papa, seriously. 
 
 This was too much. Anne and I looked at each 
 other, and ran out of the room to cry again, sitting 
 on the top stairs with our heads despairingly against 
 the banisters. Here Jane found us when she came 
 to bring us each a little fan made from the poor 
 turkey's feathers, and here Mrs. Mason found us 
 when she came to tell us how sorry she was for us, 
 and to hope we would not be vexed with her any 
 more. I suppose we forgave her, for I remember 
 we spent the evening in her room, both of us in her 
 lap, while she rocked us in her rush-bottomed chair, 
 
 81 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and sang to us "Lord Level/' "The Soldier's 
 Beturn," and other ditties. After all, if a great 
 shadow darkened this birthday, there were patches 
 of sunshine too. 
 
 Papa always had a fine horse. Not always the 
 same, for he often changed his favorites ; and though 
 we used to cry heartily when the old pony was sold, 
 we welcomed the new one with delight, and he soon 
 trotted and cantered as far into our affections as his 
 predecessor. It was a fearful joy to pat him with 
 loud hard pats, and to cry courageously, "Poor 
 fellow, good old fellow, stand still, old boy ! " while 
 at the same time we kept one eye upon his ears, and 
 if he pricked them up ever so little we were quite 
 ready to start back with a cowardly scream. When 
 we were riding, we gave most of our attention to 
 the horse ; it was so curious to watch him, shut up 
 between the shafts, whisking his tail over the reins, 
 nodding and wagging his head, as if he were talking 
 to himself, and turning first one ear and then the 
 other stealthily round if we spoke but a single word ; 
 such pretty ears, too, so nicely lined with soft hair 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 like a couple of birdVnests ! Of course we always 
 spoke of him while riding in the most complimentary 
 terms, and what moments of suspense we endured 
 after papa touched him with the whip, lest he should 
 take it ill and tumble us all out. It was curious 
 also to see the great spreading veins under his thin, 
 shining skin, branching all over him like a vine, and 
 how this glossy skin would quiver convulsively if a 
 fly did but touch it with one tiny foot. 
 
 " Flower " and " Spring " were the first of papa's 
 horses which I remember ; they were both white, 
 and they glimmer like four-footed ghosts among 
 the dim and broken recollections of very early child- 
 hood. And then, distinct in outline and color, comes 
 Wellington, bright bay Wellington, the Bronze horse, 
 the Enchanted horse of my young days. He was an 
 old blood horse, an old trooper, and had belonged 
 once to a cavalry officer who had ridden him into 
 battle. He must have been an animal of uncommon 
 character, for he seized upon my imagination like a 
 human being, and indeed I sympathized with him 
 far more than with most human beings who fell in my 
 
 83 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 way. I thought I had never seen any man so gentle, 
 elegant, and high-bred as Wellington; and his face 
 had a pensive sadness of expression which I fancied 
 was owing to his having looked down so often upon 
 wounded and dying soldiers. When he stood im- 
 movable in the paddock with downcast head, I 
 believed he was recalling the memory of some fierce 
 charge, and that he saw bleeding men among the 
 daisies and buttercups. I almost saw them there 
 myself. 
 
 John Cookson, the groom, bestowed a great deal 
 more care upon Wellington than Mary, his sweet- 
 heart, vouchsafed to us. It took twice as long to 
 comb his mane as it did to curl our two heads, and 
 the scrubbings we endured were nothing to what he 
 had to bear. Our breakfasts were much easier to 
 prepare than his warm mashes, and there was a great 
 deal more fuss made about the set of his harness than 
 about the set of our frocks. If he refused his sup- 
 per, papa and Mr. Mason and John and half a 
 dozen loungers, with their hands in their pockets, 
 went into the stable anxiously to look at him and 
 
 84 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 prescribe for him ; if we could n't eat ours, mamma 
 only said, " 0, the children are tired, put them to 
 bed and they '11 be hungry enough in the morning/' 
 Putting us to bed was the sovereign cure for all our 
 troubles bodily and mental, and we found, on inquiry 
 among our school-fellows, that other children were 
 similarly afflicted. It was well enough in winter, 
 but to go to bed at six or seven o'clock of a mid- 
 summer evening, when the furniture in the chamber 
 almost floated in a strong sea of sunshine, this was 
 really abominable, and it made us highly indignant. 
 " What, go to bed in the broad day ? the woman's 
 cracked ! " said the little cobbler in the play to his 
 wife, who was recommending him to lie down. We 
 were too polite to express such an opinion about 
 mamma, whatever our private feelings might have 
 been. 
 
 Putting us to bed, however, was one thing, and 
 going to sleep was another ; this was often impossi- 
 ble, though we tried our very best : in vain we bal- 
 anced ourselves on opposite edges of the bed, as far 
 apart as possible, lest we should disturb each other, 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 repeating in monotonous tones the stupidest of our 
 poems, our last spelling lesson, or counting over and 
 over up to the very last number that we knew ; in 
 vain we shut our eyes so tight that they ached, and 
 tried to think of nothing at all, some cunning ray 
 of sunlight would be sure to make itself small 
 enough to enter by slipping its seven colors one at 
 a time under our eyelashes, and dazzling us so with 
 rainbow effects that we were obliged to lift up our 
 eyelids to let them out again. 
 
 Then all sorts of wide-awake sounds came to us 
 through the open window : Brindle coming up from 
 pasture, and lowing all the way, so that we could 
 tell, by the increasing loudness of her " moo-noos," 
 just when she got to the big gate, to the cart-path, 
 to the bars, and so on fairly into the barnyard ; 
 the hens clucking about the kitchen door, where 
 Jane sat singing " Black-eyed Susan " ; Mr. and 
 Mrs. Mason discussing the prices of butter and beef 
 in the porch, from whence ascended a fragrant odor 
 of tobacco; papa's approaching gig- wheels grinding 
 the gravel in the avenue, the sudden pull-up, the 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 loud " whoa/ the stamping of John's big boots as 
 he came out to take the horse, and then a smell of 
 tea and muffins creeping under the door, and through 
 it all Mary in the nursery, and the swallows under 
 the eaves " hush-a-byeing " their little ones, who 
 seemed to be as far from sleep as we were. We 
 could not bear it any longer. 
 
 " Anne/' I would say, " I think we ought to sit 
 up as long as the sun does; let's play." 
 
 Play we did. The chintz counterpane, with its 
 knots and bunches of flowers, made a delightful gar- 
 den of Eden when spread on the floor, and covered 
 with the animals out of our Noah's ark. The white 
 bears, and those of the creatures whose names we did 
 not know, we banished to the arctic regions, repre- 
 sented by our two pillows, which made admirable 
 snow-banks. We, Adam and Eve, sat under a tent 
 of sheets, and surveyed our domains with pride, but 
 soon, like Adam and Eve, longing for more experi- 
 ence, we ventured to pop our little nightcapped 
 heads carefully out of the window. We drank in 
 great draughts of summer air scented with clover; 
 
 87 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 we heard the cuckoo's faint voice from a distant 
 grove, and the far-off chimes of the church ; we 
 saw the long soft cloud-drifts which the sun would 
 by and by turn into crimson and golden pillows for 
 his sinking head ; and then we watched the black 
 and red caterpillars which crawled along the win- 
 dow-sill and up into the tall honeysuckle. Every- 
 thing was serious and beautiful to our young eyes. 
 
 Once in a fit of recklessness Anne dropped an 
 elephant on father's head, he happening to stand in 
 a very tempting position just below us. We were 
 in a great fright lest we should be detected, but 
 for all that we could not forbear keeping our heads 
 out of the window to watch the effect. Luckily the 
 little big beast rolled gently from the crown of papa's 
 hat to the brim, and then slipped down his back 
 into the middle of a rosebush. 
 
 " Those swallows are so troublesome/' said papa, 
 looking up to some nests under the eaves, and 
 walking quietly away, at once to our great relief and 
 sorrow ! 
 
 We had to make a great many awkward attempts 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 before we could rearrange the bedclothes after our 
 nightly plays, but we slept soundly at last in spite 
 of the wrinkles. One night, just as I was dropping 
 into a dream, I heard Mrs. Mason's voice calling to 
 John. 
 
 " John, there 's eggs wanted for breakfast, and 
 the master says you may take Wellington the first 
 thing in the morning and go round to the water-mill 
 farm. Perhaps you '11 get some there, there 's none 
 hereabouts, and mind you start by sunrise. I'll 
 leave the basket on the kitchen table. You know the 
 road, don't you ? down Sweetbrier Lane, and past the 
 great willow by the brook and " 
 
 I remember no more, only that the great willow 
 waved its arms through my dreams, the brook rus- 
 tled, the mill-wheel turned ; and when a stupid 
 half-awake early fly buzzed against my face at four 
 o'clock the next morning, I started up, half expect- 
 ing to hear Mrs. Mason finish her directions, and 
 then becoming conscious that it was just about the 
 time when John would be getting ready to fulfil 
 them. Hark! yes, that was John walking across 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the kitchen in his stocking feet ; then I heard him 
 whistling merrily in the yard, and pretty soon the 
 whistling was accompanied by sundry snortings and 
 stampings, and a great knocking against the stable 
 door, by which I knew that both "Wellington and the 
 currycomb were taking part in the trio, though John 
 was obliged to interrupt it very often with loud excla- 
 mations of "Mind yourself now! Hold up your head! 
 Stand still, you " John and Wellington were pre- 
 paring to go down Sweetbrier Lane, and so on to the 
 water-mill farm. These words suggested a hundred 
 confused beautiful pastoral images, and, let come what 
 would, I determined to be of the party; and this was a 
 desperate resolution for a little girl brought up in the 
 extreme of English regularity, reserve, and seclusion. 
 In the first place I had never dressed myself in my 
 life, but, nevertheless, I scrambled into my clothes as 
 well as I could, buttoning them in front and then 
 turning the buttons round to their proper place be- 
 hind, before attempting to put my arms through the 
 shoulder-straps, which of course went snap, snap, one 
 at a time, each snap costing me the most dismal 
 
 90 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 forebodings. What would mamma and Mary say? 
 When it came to frock and pinafore I had to rouse 
 Anne. I can see her now, kneeling on the edge of 
 the bed, her uncurled hair drooping over the little 
 collar of her nightgown, sleep and wonder contending 
 in her eyes, while with her small fingers she patiently 
 made a succession of hard knots in each string for 
 want of ability to tie bows. Equipped after a fashion, 
 I seized my hat, and ran softly out of the light room 
 into the entry, where the darkness still seemed to be 
 dozing away in the corners, and where I could hear 
 from the open chamber-doors the long breathing of 
 sleepers which seemed to hush the very walls and 
 furniture into repose. I had never noticed before 
 that the stairs creaked at all, but now, as I went 
 down, stumbling over my shoe-strings, each step 
 brought out a creak as loud, I thought, as a pistol- 
 shot, and I wondered how the darkness could doze, 
 and the people and the house sleep on through it all. 
 But they did. 
 
 All the dusky way from my bedroom to the back 
 door my heart beat with fear, and I suspected that I 
 
 91 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 was a very naughty girl, but as soon as I stepped out, 
 for the first time in my life, into the early glory of a 
 summer's day, my whole being blended with it, and 
 I felt ' ' good " because the morning was so good, and 
 I was a part of it. I had played " Garden of Eden " 
 so often, that the idea of Eve came at once into my 
 mind, and I confusedly half realized what were her 
 sensations when she walked out before breakfast on 
 her first waking in Paradise ; " only/' I thought with 
 a sigh, " she had no buttons, or strings, or shoulder- 
 straps/' 
 
 What a singing there was ! It seemed as if every 
 lark, blackbird, robin, thrush, which had been hatched 
 into the world since the creation, was trying to outdo 
 all the rest, each warbling his loudest, right at the 
 broad face of the sun, who, having just cleared the 
 horizon, was stretching forth long arms of light in a 
 morning blessing over the earth. My imagination 
 opened wide and suddenly, like the convolvulus cups in 
 the porch, which, born after the dew, reflected the blue 
 of heaven without its tears. 
 
 John's strong white teeth showed themselves in a 
 
 92 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 broad grin as soon as he saw me, and as he was a 
 thoughtless, good-natured fellow, he made no objection 
 to taking me with him; he knelt down patiently to 
 tie the ribbons of my hat under my chin, not without 
 leaving the marks of his broad fingers and still broader 
 thumbs. So behold me mounted before him on the 
 saddle, holding the empty egg-basket fast in both 
 hands, and my heart fluttering with joy against his 
 arm. Think of being so near Wellington's wonderful 
 ears that I could whisper into them as Tom Thumb 
 did ! so near to that cavern of a mouth from whence 
 issued snorts and neighs and champing of bits ! But 
 the strength and vigor of the horse magnetized me, as 
 people say nowadays, and gave me courage, so that 
 I felt as brave as the fierce officer who in former days 
 had pricked Wellington into battle with great bloody 
 spurs, and I rode past the duck-pond and the cucum- 
 ber hot-beds in high feather. 
 
 What a view I had from my lofty seat ! I no longer 
 envied Tippoo Sultan his white elephant of forty 
 hands high. Could n't I see the whole world stretched 
 out beyond the top of the hedge, as far as Farmer 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Greatorex meadows ? The number of cottages visible 
 at once was quite beyond my knowledge of counting, 
 and each was decorated with a plume of smoke 
 which waved gallantly in the breeze. Instead of 
 smoke, ivy wreaths were swinging from the low broad 
 tower of the church, like the curls of a green wig on 
 its gray forehead, I thought, and I could see the thick 
 black yew-trees in the churchyard, which refused to 
 smile in the sunshine or to let it warm the cold grave- 
 stones over which they brooded. In the horizon the 
 
 place of the huge manufacturing city of M was 
 
 marked by the heavy lurid cloud that hung over it, 
 covering a world of misery, which I was too young 
 to understand. For the poor in English manufac- 
 turing towns starved to death often in those days, 
 
 and the poor in M were unusually numerous and 
 
 wretched. 
 
 But without troubling our heads much about the 
 
 city of M and the misery hidden under that curtain 
 
 of smoke, John and Wellington and I jogged along 
 on that most beautiful of all the summer mornings 
 that ever shone for me, and drew near the " Flying 
 
 94 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 Dragon/'' a wayside public house with a battered sign- 
 board representing a creature like a winged crocodile, 
 clawing the air, and breathing out flames ; but these 
 flames, once I suppose of a terrible brightness, were 
 now reduced to a number of dull red spots, so that the 
 flying dragon appeared to be suffering from nosebleed, 
 and the sheep which he carried in one paw looked 
 very much like a dirty white pocket-handkerchief 
 wherewith to wipe away the drops. The upper part 
 of the house was fast asleep, the curtains being drawn 
 down over the windows like so many eyelids, but the 
 bar-room was wide awake, sashes thrown up, and the 
 red hangings, fluttering outward and upward, had been 
 caught and suspended on the laurel bushes, so that 
 there was a fine view to be had inside of Betty the 
 scullery-maid clattering about in her pattens, scrub- 
 bing and sanding the dirty floor, while the shining 
 bottles and glasses on the shelves looked down upon 
 her with clean complacency. The tall clock in the 
 corner ticked at her in tones of exhortation, as if it 
 said, " Bet-ty, Bet-ty, work, work, work, work." It 
 stood on four legs like four ninepins, and seemed to 
 
 95 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 be holding up its scanty skirts out of the way of the 
 mop. John had pulled up so near the window that 
 Wellington could put his head in, and smell daintily 
 at the geraniums which stood upon the broad ledge, 
 and which he was too well bred to bite, while I studied 
 the wonderful clock, with the day of the month just 
 coming into view under the minute-hand. Over its 
 face was a small painted heaven, Gothic-shaped, 
 through which rolled a painted moon, waxing and wan- 
 ing after the example of the real moon, and, being then 
 only in its second quarter, it looked at me roguishly 
 with one eye, hiding the other behind a painted 
 thunder-cloud, a few inches square. This clock played 
 a tune always before striking, and I devoutly hoped 
 that John would prolong his chat with Betty till that 
 time \ indeed, there seemed every prospect of it, she 
 was leaning so comfortably on her folded arms between 
 the pots of geranium, whose scarlet flowers were no 
 redder than her cheeks. But suddenly distant doors 
 were heard to open and shut, and a shrill voice to cry 
 " Betty ! Betty ! " " The missus ! " said Betty, and 
 ran off in one direction, while John spurred his horse 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 in the other, and so violently that the basket came 
 very near flying out of my hands and up among the 
 branches of the old oak which shaded the porch, with 
 its benches and settles, and whose arms always seemed 
 to be akimbo, they were so crooked. 
 
 On we went in the shadow of the young plantations 
 
 which bounded the domain of D Park, listening 
 
 to the cawing of the rooks, above the loftiest trees 
 in the park. Suddenly we heard the distant voice of 
 a lark pulsating in mid -heaven. Since then I have 
 heard the enchanting carillons which float over the 
 land from steeple to steeple in Belgium, so ravish- 
 ing that one might believe the angels who descended 
 to sing of " Peace and Good-will " had taken up their 
 abode in these watch-towers of the Lord, and that 
 while the bells ring out time to men's ears, they sing 
 of eternity to men's souls. Yes, I have heard them, 
 these chimes of bells and spirits, and I thought of the 
 
 lark that I heard singing in D Park, between me 
 
 and the sky, on that morning of my childhood. It 
 reminded me of the time when my soul was lighter 
 on its wings than then, and mounted up higher to meet 
 
 97 
 
the descending sounds, which seemed to me to slide 
 from heaven. 
 
 I never thought to ask John which was Sweetbrier 
 Lane, for the road was all so beautiful that it deserved 
 to be called so from one end to the other. Gentle 
 verdant slopes stretched away to the right hand and 
 to the left, and where they met each other, foot to 
 foot, a little thread of a brook gurgled; so tiny it 
 was that the sun would have dried it up in a minute, 
 had not the water-plants obligingly held their broad 
 leaves over it like so many green parasols. The 
 cows stood up to their knees in clover, so did the 
 apple-orchards. At one place we passed the small- 
 est of cottages hidden under the biggest of cherry- 
 trees, where two little white-headed boys were tying 
 up deep red cherries in bunches, for sale. They 
 had a long new board, full of holes, into each of 
 which they stuck a bunch of cherries ; it was quite 
 like a new kind of garden, perhaps like the ruby 
 path in Aladdin's garden of jewels, I thought. The 
 boys had on queer-looking velveteen trousers, doubt- 
 less made out of a pair of their father's. We saw 
 
 98 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 him getting over the stile, pipe in mouth, a great 
 burly man ; one pair of his breeches would have 
 clothed all Tom Thumb's brothers and sisters. " Weel 
 done, little chaps," said he with gruff good-humor, 
 as he passed the busy white-heads ; they looked up 
 with pleasant smiles in their light blue eyes. 
 
 All the pretty social flowers and low-running vines, 
 which in England love to stand by the roadside and 
 see the world under the shelter of the hedge, had 
 their twinkling eyes wide open this morning, as if 
 there were no such creatures as sturdy laborers with 
 hob-nailed shoes to punish them for their curiosity. 
 John held long conversations with some of these 
 early workmen, often in the Lancashire dialect, of 
 which neither Wellington nor I understood a single 
 word. So much the better, since I could imagine, 
 if I chose, that they were saying eloquent and poet- 
 ical things to each other, in harmony with the glory 
 of the morning and of my happiness. 
 
 At last we came to Nanny Baggerly's cottage, 
 which stood on a bank near the highway. Nanny 
 Baggerly was an old woman who took, for a small 
 
 99 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 price, poor sickly children to board, from the M 
 
 poorhouse. They were brought to her sallow, ema- 
 ciated, sunken-eyed, afflicted with rickets, with sores, 
 with ophthalmia ; fatherless, motherless, utterly help- 
 less, utterly patient. She did what she could for 
 them ; the food she gave was of the plainest descrip- 
 tion, but it was wholesome; she turned them out into 
 the fresh air, and spoke to them roughly, but kindly 
 and cheerfully. Many a little one recovered ; and 
 from lying languidly all day in the sunshine follow- 
 ing with sad quiet eyes the gambols of the others, 
 and shrinking up against the wall if big Tommy or 
 rude Sally carne within a rod of him, began at first 
 to creep a little, from daisy to daisy perhaps, as he 
 gathered and held them loosely in his nerveless fin- 
 gers ; then from creeping to standing, though big 
 Tommy might have blown him over with his breath 
 even when so far advanced as that, and at last, grown 
 strong and stout, you might have seen him racing 
 about with the rest, and returning rude Sally's fisti- 
 cuffs with interest. 
 
 Many were so fortunate as to die and be buried in 
 100 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 a pauper's grave, but it was a pauper's grave in the 
 country, and dear mother earth knows no distinctions. 
 She takes the poor little pine box and the coarse 
 shroud which wrap the shrunken beggar child as ten- 
 derly to her bosom as the mahogany coffin and the 
 flannel garments of the rich man's heir. The violets 
 and buttercups on one grave soon nod merrily to 
 sister violets and buttercups on the other, and the 
 bees and butterflies hover over both. The big ash 
 stretches a long arm over each, and the birds 
 don't care on which branch they happen to sit and 
 sing. The autumn wind wanders and moans around 
 each little mound, and strews it with dead leaves, 
 and in winter one snowy winding-sheet folds them 
 both. Perhaps the little beggar and the little heir 
 walk together, hand in hand, in the spirit world. 
 
 It is good for that child to die who lies unwept in 
 its coffin, and from whose meek head no hand cares 
 to sever one lock of hair. 
 
 Death seemed very far from Nanny Baggerly's 
 cottage, however, on the morning when John and I 
 rode past on Wellington. Nobody was visible but a 
 101 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 strong brown boy eight years old, who was hacking 
 away sturdily at a big cabbage in the little garden. 
 
 " They '11 be having that cabbage for dinner/' 
 quoth John. " Peter, I say/' raising his voice, 
 " Peter, have you got the taste of that porridge out 
 of your mouth yet ? " 
 
 Peter turned fiercely round and brandished his 
 knife, but he could not resist John's good-natured 
 grin ; he broke into a sheepish laugh, and ran into 
 the house as nimbly as a squirrel. 
 
 " What do you think the likes of them gets for 
 their breakfasses, miss ? " said John, looking down 
 at me. "' Milk ! ' says you, I '11 be bound ! Yery 
 little of that they see ; some of 'em don't know the 
 taste of their mother's milk even, poor lambs ! But 
 old Nanny stirs 'em up a mess of oatmeal porridge 
 in the pot, she do make it thick and stiff, and them 
 young uns hovers round the chimney corner, watch- 
 ing her stir and stir, and sniffing up the steam till 
 she has to tap their heads with the porridge stick, 
 and drive 'em out on to the step where they and the 
 chickens huddles up and peeps in together. You 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 see the chickens has the inside of the pot to them- 
 selves after it 's done with, and Nanny sets it out 
 doors. When the gruel is so thick that the por- 
 ridge stick stands up straight in it, Nanny says to 
 herself, ' That '11 do/ and she pours it out over a 
 big pewter platter, bigger than Mrs. Mason's chop- 
 ping tea-tray." 
 
 " Bigger than what? 33 said I in great wonder, 
 and then bursting out laughing. " O John, it is n't 
 chopping tea-tray, but Japan tea-tray." 
 
 " Well then, jobbing tea-tray, it 's all the same, 
 miss, and then she holds out quite a fagot of 
 spoons, and says, 'One at a time, boys/ They 
 march in, take their spoons and range themselves 
 in a circle round the platter, which stands on 
 the floor, and then that good old creetur wipes her 
 hands and her snuffy old nose on her apron, and 
 says grace like any parson; the ' grace before 
 meat/ you know, miss, in the prayer-book, which 
 begins which which, in short/' says John, "I 
 disremember; but it's a good rule, miss, of old 
 Nanny's, this saying of grace, it's pious, and it 
 
 103 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 gives the porridge time to cool. She gives her 
 ' A men ' loud and solemn, like the clerk, and 
 then she cries quite cheerful, 'Fall on, boys, and 
 see which of you '11 eat the fastest ! ' and faith, 
 that would be hard to say ; it 's gape and swallow 
 with 'em all, and rattle your spoon against the 
 platter, till one would think drum-major and all 
 his boys was coming down the road. Nanny don't 
 set their dish out to the chickens, you may be sure ; 
 the boys cleans and polishes it better than soap and 
 sand. 
 
 " Well, now, that little chap Peter is the smartest 
 and cleverest of all Nanny Baggerly's young uns. 
 It 's he that makes the fire, and picks up chips, and 
 brings water, and digs taters and cabbages, as you 
 see, miss. And when good charitable ladies call 
 and bring penny tracts, wot's his name's hymns 
 [Watts] , and papers of buns, and all the rest of the 
 children huddles into a corner with their fists in their 
 mouths and their eyes fit to drop out of their heads 
 with staring, it 's Peter who comes forward, makes 
 his manners, and says, ' Thank you, ma'am ; I 'm 
 
 104. 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 sure you 're very good, ma'am.' Even Mr. White- 
 lock the clergyman don't dash him ; he takes to the 
 gold spectacles and the gold-headed cane quite nat- 
 ural. He says off the Creed and Ten Command- 
 ments better than you do, miss/' said John, laughing, 
 ' begging your pardon, I 'm sure, miss, for saying so. 
 He can tell Mr. Whitelock, 'Who was the first 
 man?' 'Who was the first murderer?' ' Who was 
 Noah?' 'How old was Methusaleh?' And he 
 can tell his own age and his name too, and that 's a 
 wonderful piece of knowledge for a workhouse boy. 
 
 " Well, t' other morning, just as the porridge was 
 smoking in the platter, and old Nanny had got as 
 far as ' A men,' a gentleman on horseback stopped 
 at the little gate. He looked up and down and all 
 round as if he 'd lost his road, and then, turning his 
 head towards the cottage, he called out, ' Hallo there, 
 good people ! ' It was plain to see that he wanted 
 to ask his way to some place. 
 
 " ' Eun you, Peter,' said Nanny; 'it 's only you 
 can make a decent bow and give a decent answer to a 
 stranger.' 
 
 105 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " Peter looked first at the porridge and then at the 
 gentleman. He was one of those petickler old bach- 
 elor gentlemen who wear drab gaiters and starched 
 neckcloths and pinks in their button-holes ; who carry 
 their elbows turned out stiff, their whips straight up 
 and down, and their heels sticking against the sides 
 of the horse. Just one of the gentlemen to ask forty 
 questions about nothing at all, Who lives here ? 
 Who lives there ? Where does that road take 
 you ? Where does that lane go ? How many miles 
 
 to M and B and W and Lord knows 
 
 what number of places besides. 
 
 " ' Oh, oh ! ' thought Peter, ' the porridge will all 
 be eaten up long before I get through answering that 
 old cove/ 
 
 " Besides being the smartest boy of the lot, Peter was 
 always the hungriest, and that morning he was mighty 
 sharp set, for he 'd been working in the tater patch 
 and had just run in, his feet covered with black mould. 
 f Halloo ! ' cried the gentleman again, in a terribly loud 
 voice and quite purple in the face with impatience. 
 ' Halloo up there ! are ye all deaf or dead ? ' 
 
 106 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 "' Goodness gracious/ cries Nanny. 'Run this 
 blessed minute, Peter, or he '11 ride up to the door over 
 the cabbages/ Peter casts another glance at the por- 
 ridge upon which the boys were just throwing them- 
 selves, and then without saying a word he claps his bare 
 foot right down in the middle of the dish quick as a 
 flash, and then runs off like a greyhound.* There was 
 the print of his foot left in the porridge just as black 
 and distinct, thanks to the garden mould, as them pencil 
 picters of Mr. Freeman's ; heel and toes and the marks 
 in the rough skin, all as natural and as dirty as life. 
 More than that, Peter had cut his foot against a sharp 
 stone so that it was bleeding a little. That looked as 
 if one had used a red lead-pencil as well as a black 
 one about that queer drawing. If it had not been 
 for the red lead-pencil, I do believe the boys would 
 have devoured every morsel of Peter's foot, but they 
 could not stand that. So they ate round it as close 
 as they could get, and polished the rest of the dish as 
 usual. When Peter came back he found his foot 
 waiting for him, right in the middle of the shining 
 * A fact. 
 107 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 platter ; he swallowed it all down in a moment, a toe 
 at each mouthful ; there 's no such word as dirt for 
 hungry people, miss. Old Nanny chuckled, and 
 laughed to herself over the boy's coolness ; she took 
 him one side, and gave him a hunk of barley bread 
 to top off with. Old cove gave him a penny too 
 Hulloo, what 's that ? " 
 
 We were on the M turnpike, just where the 
 
 road makes a sudden bend, when we heard a great 
 confused noise which made John stop short in his 
 story. I immediately thought of the drum-major 
 whom Nanny Baggerly's children imitated so well, 
 but on turning the corner, behold ! not only the drum- 
 major and his boys, but the rest of the band, and half 
 the boys and girls of M besides, who were fol- 
 lowing a regiment just marching out of M on 
 
 its way to distant quarters. It had been a very 
 popular regiment with the townspeople, and though 
 orders were given for an early march in order to avoid 
 leave-takings, a crowd of the sorrowful populace came 
 out for the sake of accompanying them a few miles 
 on their way. It was an interesting sight. Many 
 
 108 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 platoons and here and there a whole company marched 
 along with stern resolution, doing their best to keep 
 up the dignity of the procession, looking neither to 
 the right hand nor to the left, and carrying themselves, 
 as well as their guns and accoutrements, with military 
 uprightness. But great numbers of the younger men 
 had left the ranks, and were walking arm in arm with 
 groups of workmen and artisans. Many reeled and 
 staggered very unsteadily, and there was a great deal 
 of embracing and shedding of tears, as much owing 
 to gin as to sentiment. Some soldiers were beset by 
 clamorous and eager men, low tavern-keepers and the 
 like, seeking to get their bills paid, dirty strips of 
 paper which they flourished before the eyes of their 
 debtors, who walked doggedly along, secure of tiring 
 out these creditors at last. Often you might see a 
 young girl weeping, with her apron thrown over her 
 head, her lover doing his best to comfort her, and 
 thrusting the last penny of his pay into her passive 
 hand. One poor thing, who stood quite near us, 
 sobbed out so pitifully, over and over again, " I '11 
 never see you any more, Jem; you'll never come 
 
 109 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 anigh me again, Jem ; you '11 soon forget me, Jem ; 
 will you be sartain sure to write me Jem? " that I began 
 to cry too, and to shout out a series of answers to these 
 sorrowful forebodings by way of consoling her. " You 
 will, he will, he won't, he will" There was such a 
 noise that nobody heard me but John, who laughed 
 heartily. Now and then we passed a couple taking 
 leave of each other in a more sensible way, married 
 people evidently, with little ones fast asleep at that 
 
 time probably in some garret at M She perhaps 
 
 was to keep a shop or take in washing while her hus- 
 band was off sogering, and they were too busily talk- 
 ing over their plans to have time or heart for grieving. 
 Their anxious faces would have been less sad to look 
 upon if they had overflowed with tears. 
 
 Looming up high above all heads towered the great 
 baggage-wagons, packed, piled, and heaped with lug- 
 gage, which was strapped, chained, and fastened in 
 every conceivable way. All sorts of pots, pans, and ket- 
 tles dangled and jangled from the sides with stunning 
 discord, while perched upon - the very top sat the few 
 soldiers' wives who were allowed to follow the camp, 
 110 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 rolled up in scarlet cloaks with hoods, which were 
 drawn over their heads. Bronzed, weather-beaten 
 women they were, bantering the crowd below with 
 harsh, cracked voices. Some had children in their 
 laps, all were smoking short pipes, and in the violence 
 of their gesticulations they seemed just ready to throw 
 both children and pipes among the joking rabble. 
 Pedlers and venders of all kinds of eatables and 
 drinkables trudged wearily by the side of the wagons, 
 and some half-starved dogs kept equal step with them 
 underneath. You could hardly hear above the din 
 the drums, fifes, and trumpets of the band playing 
 lively tunes to cheer up the spirits of the men. No- 
 body listened to them except the mob of boys and 
 girls who followed in a sort of long trot, with ragged 
 pinafores and mouths full of toffy. 
 
 No common horse could have faced for a moment 
 this disorderly multitude. When quiet people, jog- 
 ging along in their carriages or on horseback, beheld 
 from afar off a marching regiment approach, they 
 vanished hurriedly down by-lanes and cross-roads, 
 or fairly turned about and rode back as fast as possible. 
 111 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 But Wellington, the old charger, was in his element. 
 The moment he heard the drum and fife he pricked 
 up his ears, and gave a loud snort of satisfaction, which 
 came from his inmost heart, arched his neck proudly, 
 and began to thread his way steadily among the throng. 
 His eyes shone as brightly as the bayonets, as he 
 stared about wistfully among the soldiers, and with 
 short, cheerful neighs seemed to ask, " What cheer, 
 comrades, what cheer ?" He looked at the scarlet 
 cloaks and the lean dogs as one who knows them of 
 old, and he showed a noble patience with the teasing 
 rabble, who recklessly tickled him with straws or 
 shook their greasy hats in his face. If a child fell 
 down between his feet, he waited for it to get up ; if 
 a man ran against him, he moved carefully out of his 
 way. 
 
 In the midst of all this, I hardly know how, we 
 smarted off full gallop down a shady lane which 
 opened suddenly to the right. When we slackened 
 our pace, the din and dust and tumult had passed 
 away like a dream, and we were crossing the willow- 
 shaded brook according to Mrs. Mason's directions. 
 
 112 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 The unexpected change made it seem more beautiful 
 even than I had fancied ; the grand old willow hung 
 with a sort of silent passion over the water, as if 
 enchanted with its never-ending story ; some of the 
 boughs trailed out on the current at full length,, others 
 only reached down far enough to touch the foaming 
 crest of each little wavelet as it hurried off. The 
 pools were full of fallen leaves, tiny archipelagoes of 
 small green islands, and a few slender bare wand- 
 like limbs moved mysteriously along the water as if 
 writing secrets on its fickle heart. What a curious 
 willow it was ! All the lower limbs brooded in 
 constant shade over the water, and knew nothing but 
 the brook, while the topmost branches, quite out of 
 its sight, grew straight up into the sunshine, and 
 knew nothing but the summer wind which piped 
 merrily to them as they danced. 
 
 A's we approached our journey's end the hedges 
 began to be full of blackberry-bushes. What child 
 of my age could see blackberry-bushes without think- 
 ing of the babes in the wood ? And as it was my 
 habit to be constantly imagining myself somebody 
 
 113 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 else, of course I immediately became little Jane rid- 
 ing " upon Cock horse " to London before the good 
 robber. 
 
 "John/' I broke out abruptly, after a few mo- 
 ments of intense thinking, "let's play my brother 
 William is riding behind us, that's the reason we 
 can't see him ; let 's play the wicked robber is mak- 
 ing horrible faces at us over William's head. Let 's 
 play that you two ruffians are going to fight, as 
 soon as we get to the wood. How we babes shall 
 cry and cry!" continued I, opening my handkerchief, 
 printed with Dr. Franklin's maxims. " But you must 
 n't mind that, you must go off to get us some bread, 
 and we shall wait and wait " 
 
 During this speech, delivered with great energy, 
 John's countenance had exhibited the extreme of 
 bewilderment, but here a sudden light broke in upon 
 him. " Certainly, miss, with all the pleasure in life. 
 I '11 get you a piece of bread the moment we reach 
 the farm, and there 's the house, sure enough, before 
 us. Wait ? yes, so you have waited and waited as pa- 
 tient as a lamb, miss, and very hungry you must be ! 
 
 114 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 How stupid of me never to fetch you a bit of bread 
 before we started ! But Dame Jenkins shall cut 
 you off a corner of the brown loaf in a jiffy." 
 
 A few rods down a steep winding cart-road, and 
 we stopped at the farmhouse, a low broad stone cot- 
 tage deep sunk in the rich grass of a little glade 
 which opened out upon the brook. There was just 
 room for the diamond-paned windows to peep out 
 between the overhanging thatch and the profusion 
 of gillyflowers, balsams, and London pride, which 
 blossomed luxuriantly up to the very sills. The 
 walls seemed to have been built for no other purpose 
 than to train vines upon, they were so overrun with 
 homely English creepers, woodbines, honeysuckles, 
 morning-glories, scarlet runners, all climbing in a 
 rich tangle together up over the roof, blossoming 
 among the mosses of the thatch, and garlanding the 
 massive chimney. They hung so thickly down from 
 the porch that Dame Jenkins's white cap was lost 
 among them, as she stood there to welcome us, and 
 only her friendly eyes were visible under the clus- 
 tering leaves. Two or three blackbirds and finches 
 
 115 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 sung rapturously in wicker cages hidden beneath 
 this greenery; a half-open casement discovered 
 glimpses of a dark oaken-panelled kitchen, every 
 panel reflecting a ruddy gleam of the firelight from 
 the stone hearth. Thickets of laurels, lilacs, rose- 
 bushes surrounded the house, and a pair of gigantic 
 lime-trees hung their branches like a great green 
 dome, high above all, under which the sunshine 
 and fresh air played freely. This was my first visit 
 to the mill-farm, but by no means the last, and I 
 learned its beauties by heart. 
 
 John would not let me go into the house with 
 him ; perhaps he was afraid I might repeat to his 
 sweetheart Mary the fine speeches he made to Dame 
 Jenkins's granddaughter. He set me on the top of 
 a lofty gate-post under an acacia-tree which swung a 
 heavy cluster of snow-white flowers right above my 
 head ; a great yellow bee was thrusting himself into 
 them, and his buzzing made me look up. "0 
 John," cried I, in ecstasy, " is n't it like papa's ruf- 
 fled shirt-front with a big gold broach stuck in ! " 
 
 "Eat your bread and butter, miss/' said John, sen- 
 
 116 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 tentiously, putting a piece in my hand, which he left 
 me to dispose of at my leisure. It was a piece al- 
 most too large for me to grasp, nevertheless I went 
 bravely to work to make it smaller, feasting my eyes 
 all the time upon the charming objects around me, 
 above all, the old water-mill. It stood just opposite 
 to me on the other side of the brook, and at first I was 
 bitterly disappointed to find it was a ruin ; the longer 
 I looked at it, however, the more it grew upon me, 
 and at length I became absorbed in it, and under- 
 stood its picturesque beauty. Its gray crumbling 
 walls were buried in the deep shadow of a very steep 
 bank which overhung the stream, running in at this 
 place like a tiny bay upon a tiny beach of pebbles. 
 The broad sloping roof leaned against this bank, and 
 so much earth had slipped down upon it, that it was 
 covered as thickly with wood plants and wild flowers 
 as the hillside above it, and seemed almost a part of 
 it. Moss dropped from the old wheel instead of 
 water, and blossomed delicately among the crevices 
 of the broken steps. Roof, walls, and wheel, bank 
 and bay and beach, rose before me in the dark trans- 
 
 117 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 parent freshness of the early morning shadows ; the 
 ruin fairly dripped with dew from its hanging masses 
 of greenery. The babbling, brawling brook scam- 
 pered past it, flouting its patient decay like the 
 naughty boys in story-books not in real life I am 
 sure who mock at old age. So I looked, and I ate; 
 and I heard the doves cooing, and the bees humming 
 in the bean-field. Dame Jenkins's granddaughter 
 brought me a glass of new milk ; " just from the 
 cow, miss," she said. I was ashamed to say I 
 did not like it, because I remembered that in my 
 story-books, when the children had been particularly 
 good, their mammas would say, " My dears, you 
 have behaved so well that I will let you go down 
 to see Betty milk, and you may take your mugs 
 and get a draught warm from the cow! 3 Drink- 
 ing new milk was always associated in my mind 
 with excellent spelling-lessons, neatly hemmed hand- 
 kerchiefs, proper behavior in general. You see my 
 head was full of my story-books, and I could not 
 help thinking of them on all occasions. 
 
 When John and I were ready to start again, Dame 
 
 118 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 Jenkins came out and reached up to us our basket, 
 quite full of eggs, lying among tufts of fresh grass. 
 She talked to me in a very cajoling, nattering manner, 
 and I did n't know whether I ought to feel offended 
 or pleased. 
 
 " You 're a dear/' she drawled out, in the same sort 
 of voice that Mary used to the baby, " you 're a 
 little angel, bless your bonny mouth and your rosy 
 cheeks ; you 're mamma's beautiful darling, I 'm sure ; 
 did n't you know you was a duck of a pretty little 
 dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am/' said I, with modest assurance, feeling 
 some misgivings, though, on account of my hasty 
 toilet. 
 
 She laughed, and patted my hand with her skinny 
 palm ; it felt like the claws of the dead fowls which 
 Mrs. Mason sometimes gave me to play with, and 
 which I worked up and down by pulling the tendon of 
 the leg. 
 
 John found the basket and the bridle together quite 
 too much for him to manage, and, having full con- 
 fidence in Wellington, he transferred the latter to 
 
 119 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 me. Imagine my pride and exaltation ! I remember 
 nothing of the ride home except a great feeling of 
 responsibility, which made me keep my eyes fixed 
 upon the bridle and the horse's ears ; of course I 
 pulled and twitched, and made use of all the jocky 
 sounds and phrases with which my memory supplied 
 me, all of which Wellington bore with the utmost 
 patience. I had enjoyed such a great variety of new 
 experiences, that I felt as if I had been gone from 
 home a great while, and expected to be received with 
 acclamations of delight as a traveller. I had forgotten 
 quite that I was a naughty girl. It was odd to see, 
 as we rode back into the yard, the usual morning's 
 work going on, and to find the day just begun at our 
 house, which had already been so long for me. Jane 
 was sweeping the hall, Anne was coming down stairs 
 in all the dignity of six elaborate curls and a clean 
 starched pinafore. I could see mamma making tea in 
 the parlor. Mary came out, exclaiming, " Well, miss, 
 a fine trick you *ve been playing ! I wonder you 're 
 not ashamed of yourself, John Cookson ! Good gra- 
 cious, what a dowdy and a fright you do look, miss ! " 
 120 
 
WELLINGTON. 
 
 Mamma scanned me from head to foot, and her 
 glances expressed very emphatically the same opinion. 
 She told me if I ever did so again, she would punish 
 me very severely. 
 
 Ah, forgive me, dear mamma, that I felt neither 
 guilty nor repentant. As I stood silent before you, 
 I dare say you thought me sorry and ashamed. The 
 severest punishment, even your serious displeasure, 
 would not have weighed for a moment against the 
 glory and the happiness which I had been enjoying 
 in getting acquainted with nature, and which I enjoy 
 in recollection to this day. I could not help it, mam- 
 ma ! Little children, can you conceive of a little girl 
 so naughty? 
 
 121 
 
Y. 
 
 BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 IE had just taken possession of our seaside 
 lodgings at Birkenhead. Anne and I stood 
 at the parlor window, looking out eagerly upon the 
 river Mersey, that rolled its muddy waters between 
 us and the city of Liverpool. It was alive with 
 vessels of every sort and size, and our active imagina- 
 tions soon began to personify them. 
 
 " Anne/"' I said, " do you see those very big ships, 
 with their sails beginning to sprout out of their 
 masts? Well, mamma told me just now they are 
 going perhaps to America, where our relations live. 
 Do you see those steamboats, vomiting black smoke, 
 like Apollyon ? " 
 
 " 0, don't ! " cried little Anne, covering her eyes, 
 for it so happened that we possessed a very old copy 
 122 
 
B1RKENHEAD. 
 
 of the " Pilgrim's Progress/'' with such a hideous 
 picture of Apollyon spitting out fire and smoke 
 that Anne could never bear to look at it. 
 
 " Well, then, they 're not vomiting black smoke, 
 like old Apollyon, but they 're nasty things for all 
 that. Mamma says it 's rude to point, and every one 
 of 'em looks as if it was pointing out a big, long, 
 dirty black finger at something behind it. 0, I'll 
 tell you what. The steamers run about like cater- 
 pillars, and the ships are like moths opening their 
 white wings." 
 
 "I like the little ships the best," said Anne, 
 " let 's count 'em. Three over there, and two there, 
 and one just here, and one, two, three, four, there 
 and there " 
 
 " But see, Anne, two such tiny, tiny black boats, 
 quite close to our side of the river. They 're start- 
 ing to run over to Liverpool, I verily believe ; yes, 
 there they go, each of 'em with a great red sail ; 
 don't they look like two butterflies sailing on chips ? 
 Now I wonder which will get t' other side of the 
 river first ? Let 's play one of 'em was yours, and 
 
 123 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 t' other mine. One of them has a long red streamer 
 top o' the mast ; that shall be mine. No, Anne, you 
 may have it, because it 's the prettiest, and we '11 call 
 him Eed Cap, and mine shall be Bald Head, because 
 it has n't any streamer, only that big round knob 
 stuck up on the mast. Bald Head 's a Bible name, 
 too; it 's what those impolite children called Elisha, 
 you know, just because he had n't a wig on ! Now, 
 Anne, say, which do you bet will sail fastest, you 
 or me, I mean your Eed Cap or my Bald Head ? 
 I '11 bet you 'most any thing Bald Head will get over 
 to Liverpool first. Now what will you give me if he 
 does ? Say quick, because I verily believe he 's ahead 
 already." 
 
 " dear," said little Anne. " I have n't a single 
 thing here to give you for a bet. Mamma would n't 
 like me to cut off one of my six curls, or pull out one 
 of my shoe-strings." 
 
 " No, child," I cried impatiently, " I don't want 
 anything splendid; just give me that bit of red 
 yarn you 've been twisting up in your fingers, } i will 
 make my dolly a pair of garters. Ah ha ! I 'm first, 
 
 124 
 
BIEKENHEAD. 
 
 I 'm first ! I see old Bald Head's skull bobbing up 
 and down ever so far ahead of Red Cap. Hurra ! 
 What do you say now, Miss Nancy ? how do you feel 
 now ? " 
 
 " Why, I want you to beat;" said little Anne, 
 sweetly. " It is only fair, because you gave me the 
 prettiest boat." 
 
 " You darling thing ! " I exclaimed. ' ' Now I 
 wouldn't get ahead of you for the world. Here, 
 take back the garters! I don't want 'em. I don't 
 want to beat truly, and I hardly believe I 'm going to 
 after all. I don't know what's come to old Bald 
 Head ; he 's standing still, I verily do believe, and 
 Bed Cap 's jumping along from one wave to another 
 like a kangaroo. You 're going to beat me after all, 
 and I 'm just as glad as if mamma had let me eat 
 that dear little raw onion that Mary was going to put 
 into the salad yesterday. Don't I like 'em, raw 
 onions, teenty taunty ones, I mean ! Halloo ! why, 
 Bald Head 's taken in his sail. Don't his skull 
 look funny atop of that great spine-bone of a mast ? 
 He looks like a s&ullenton sure enough, now 
 
 125 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 there 's nothing of him but one bare pole. Ain't I 
 funny, Nancy my dear ? And you 're ahead of me, 
 and you need not deny it, for I 'm older than you, 
 and I can see better, for my eyes are larger. Three 
 cheers for Nancy Red Cap ! " 
 
 Then I snatched off my pinafore, waving it wildly 
 and shouting, exhilarated by the sea-air which blew 
 freshly into the window. 
 
 Mary, coming up behind me, seized hold of my 
 pinafore and held it over my mouth tightly. 
 
 " What a racket you 've been making, you naughty 
 child ! will you be quiet with your Red Caps and 
 Bald Heads ? You 're as noisy, I 'm sure, as one of 
 them boys that the bear eat up, and serve 'em right, 
 and you too, if you don't behave prettier. You 
 make more noise than six bears growling. I wonder 
 what my last missus would say to you, my missus 
 before I came here ; your mamma 's too good to you. 
 My last missus, Mrs. 'ixou's Miss Malviny 'ixon, 
 was as quiet as a little mouse. If she ever laughed 
 loud even, her mamma would say, ' Malviny, is that 
 behaving like a lady?'" 
 
 126 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 I always wondered at the rapidity with which Mary 
 ran off that difficult sentence, which was always at the 
 end of her tongue, " My last missus, Mrs. 'ixon's 
 Miss Malviny " for that young lady was so often 
 held up to us as an example that her very name got 
 to be exasperating. 
 
 As soon as I could free my mouth from the pina- 
 fore and find my breath, therefore, I cried out, 
 
 " Why don't you go back to your Miss Malviny, 
 if you like her so well? I 'm sure we would n't care, 
 would we, Anne ? We would n't cry, we would n't 
 tease you to come back. She 's still as a mouse, is 
 she, your Miss Malviny ? I should like to be a cat 
 and jump upon her, she 'd make a noise once in her 
 life, then ; how she 'd squeal when I pounced upon 
 her with my claws spread out, so /" I added, opening 
 and shutting my fingers, making them look as much 
 like Apollyon's crooked talons, in the picture, as pos- 
 sible, and drawing my face into a likeness of an en- 
 raged cat, as I hoped. "And her mamma would peep 
 out from behind the wainscot, she '11 be a mouse 
 too, of course, and she 'd say, ' Malviny, stand still 
 
 127 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and be eaten up like a lady, and squeak softly/ 
 Then I 'd craunch her bones," I added, gnashing my 
 teeth savagely. 
 
 Indeed I was a very rude, naughty child, and iny 
 impertinence to Mary was very " wulgar," as Mrs. 
 Hixon might have said. But when Mary placed a 
 sudden check on my excited spirits, they were apt 
 to explode in a burst of indignation or vent them- 
 selves in extravagant nonsense. This time I rattled 
 on, quite indifferent to Mary's solemn looks of horror : 
 " O Anne, don't you remember at Monsieur Champ- 
 fort's, how funny it was to see Malvina Hixon dance ? 
 How she jumped up, and flung her arms and legs 
 about in such a limp way, like a Merry Andrew ! If 
 I had her here, I 'd pin her up to the wall, and tie 
 the skipping-rope to her, and jerk her. And her 
 hair, her red hair, Anne, don't you remember how it 
 used to fly, fly up in the air when she was dancing, 
 like a haystack in flames, and how it nearly caught 
 upon the chandelier ? O, she '11 hang up there like 
 Absalom some day, and Monsieur Champfort will take 
 his fiddle-bow and pierce her." 
 
 128 
 
BIEKENHEAD. 
 
 In the midst of this nonsense I skipped about in 
 imitation of Malvina Hixon, tossing my own hair till 
 Mary's nice handiwork of curls was all in confusion, 
 and getting behind the tables and chairs when she 
 tried to catch me, some of which I overturned in my 
 hurry. 
 
 " I don't know what ever will become of you, 
 miss," she said at last, quite exhausted with the chase, 
 "I don't know, really." 
 
 "'You don't know, and I don't care,'" cried I, 
 quoting from " Mother Goose." 
 
 " ( Don't care' came to the gallows, miss," said 
 Mary, gravely. 
 
 The door opened. " Breakfast ! " cried I, emerg- 
 ing from under the sofa, where I had taken final 
 refuge. This was our first breakfast at Birkenhead, 
 so of course we had a great many observations to 
 make on the new and strange surroundings. First, 
 we took a prolonged survey of the servant who 
 brought in the tray ; she was a hard-worked-looking 
 girl, with a very hurried manner, as lodging-house ser- 
 vants are apt to have. Her cap was crumpled, and 
 
 129 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 her faded dress neatly mended with bright new 
 pieces. As she arranged the table, she glanced at 
 the disordered room, and then at me, with hair and 
 dress equally disordered; she picked up the chairs 
 which I had thrown down in trying to escape from 
 Mary, and then, in a very significant way, she took 
 from the mantelpiece a couple of china shepherdesses, 
 a gilt mug, and a match-box ; put them into her blue 
 apron, and disappeared, with another look at my tum- 
 bled condition. 
 
 "She thinks you look like a regular furniture- 
 smasher, miss," said Mary, "and no wonder. She 
 would n't trust you even with an empty blacking- 
 bottle. She'll tell her missus of you, and them 
 overset chairs will be put down in the bill. I dare 
 say you 've cracked some of *em." 
 
 This was a mortifying idea, and in order to get rid 
 of it, I began an inspection of the crockery. A little 
 blue landscape was painted in the bottom of each 
 bowl, blue clouds, blue lake dotted with blue sails, 
 blue mountains, a blue gentleman with a blue feather 
 and a blue guitar, serenading a blue lady, who looked 
 
 130 
 
BIEKENHEAD. 
 
 out of the window of a blue tower, shaded by a grove 
 of blue trees. " O Anne," cried I, " this is Lake 
 Como ! See, it 's printed in blue letters ! Don't speak 
 to me ; I 'm going there/'' 
 
 So I put my face close to the bowl, shading my 
 eyes with my hands, that I might see nothing but the 
 picture. Gradually the landscape enlarged till every 
 feature took the size of nature ; the blue melted into 
 greens and browns, and in fancy I was standing on 
 the shore of the sleeping lake, whose wavelets crept to 
 my feet with the softest rippling sound ; the moun- 
 tain flung its grim shadow across the water, while its 
 bare head glowed in the sun; the branches of the Ital- 
 ian pines stirred mysteriously to the hurrying breeze, 
 which set all the light foliage that fringed the bank 
 into a tremor ; the lateen-sails bent, some one way, 
 some another ; the guitar tinkled ; and the plumed 
 cavalier sang out, " O pescator del onda, fi da lin lin 
 IB, I" I repeated over and over to myself in a whis- 
 per, Como ! Como ! The word contained a thousand 
 pictures for me. Just at this moment Mary inserted 
 the nose of the milk-pitcher between my face and the 
 
 131 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 bowl, and a stream of milk poured down upon Como, 
 drowning the lady and gentleman, overwhelming the 
 tower and the pines, and covering the top of the 
 mountain. It was a second Deluge, and I set myself 
 busily to work with my spoon to eat down to the 
 landscape again. 
 
 "I like this house," said I to Anne. "I've 
 looked into the wash-basins, and they're quite as 
 pretty as mamma's wash-basins at home." 
 
 In those days it was the fashion to cover the bottom 
 of wash-basins with pictures of beautiful scenery, 
 castles, parks, rocks, waterfalls, meadows, with sheep 
 and shepherds, forests with deer and huntsmen, and 
 sometimes with battles, shipwrecks, and sieges, while 
 just inside the brim heavy garlands of flowers, nearly 
 as large as life, were painted, overhanging cascades 
 and fortresses, and, bending down towards wounded 
 soldiers, flying deer or piping shepherds, as the case 
 might be. I had read of the sultan who met with 
 the most wonderful adventures and saw the most 
 glorious sights merely in consequence of plunging his 
 head into a pail of water. For a minute I could very 
 
 132 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 well believe it, for a wash-basin was quite enough for 
 my imagination ; many and many an hour it spent, 
 tangled up among the flowers, or living and wander- 
 ing among scenes of indescribable beauty and splen- 
 dor, all suggested by the pictured bowl over which 
 my dirty face was bending, quite forgetful that it was 
 sent there to be washed. 
 
 After breakfast, Anne and I went up stairs to un- 
 pack our dolls ; papa had lately brought them to us 
 from London, and we were very fond of them ; we 
 kept them carefully out of the baby's reach, lest the 
 paint should get sucked off their faces, and we tried 
 to remember not to touch their pink and blue kid 
 arms, unless our hands were clean. "We called them 
 Angelina Augusta and Augusta Angelina. In those 
 days names were beautiful in proportion to the num- 
 ber of syllables ; now it is different, and all the dolls 
 of my acquaintance are called Sallie and Bessie and 
 Jennie, names which we should have thought very 
 commonplace. 
 
 Angelina Augusta and Augusta Angelina stared 
 very hard with their great unwinking black eyes, as 
 
 133 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 we carried them, from room to room, pointing out 
 to them all the charms of our new abode, and holding 
 them up to the window, that they might admire the 
 Mersey crowded with shipping and the heavy red brick 
 warehouses of distant Liverpool visible between masts 
 and pennons. 
 
 " How beautiful our dolls do look in their best 
 frocks ! " said I to Anne, " how glad I am they are 
 made of wood, so that they will never die ! I 'm tired 
 of playthings that die like our lame robin and the 
 kitten with weak eyes. Dearest darling Angelina 
 Augusta will keep her red cheeks forever," I added, 
 kissing her passionately but carefully, " unless 
 O Anne, do you recollect poor Eloisa Matilda, who 
 lay in a pail of water all night, and in the morning 
 had not a bit of face left ? It was just as if her soul 
 had fled." 
 
 "I shall teach Augusta Angelina that water is 
 very unwholesome for dolls," said Anne ; ' ' we must 
 not tell them when we go to bathe," she whispered. 
 
 A slight noise at the door made us look in that 
 direction, and to our surprise we saw a little girl 
 
 131 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 standing on the threshold, her head thrown back, one 
 small foot advanced as if, in the act of entering, she 
 had been transfixed with admiration at the sight of 
 our dolls ; we were equally struck with her remarkable 
 appearance, so that we all three remained motionless, 
 staring at one another. Poor Eloisa Matilda herself, 
 after her night in the pail of water, was not more en- 
 tirely destitute of color than was this child ; her lips 
 and cheeks were perfectly white, a mass of thick black 
 hair hung about her, and a pair of very large, very 
 dark, very extraordinary eyes gave a wonderful mel- 
 ancholy to her face, they were so full of a strangeness, 
 a sadness, a horror, almost, of expression. She was 
 dressed in deep mourning even to her stockings, 
 which gave her thin limbs the appearance of bird's 
 legs. 
 
 " I have got a doll too," said the child, with a 
 sweet smile, which gave a natural look to her old, 
 careworn little face, and restored my courage at once. 
 
 " Have you ? what is its name ? " 
 
 " Grandmother," said the child. 
 
 " Grandmother ! how funny ! " said I, laughing. 
 
 135 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 "Now I call my doll Angelina Augusta; what do you 
 think of that ? " 
 
 " O, I think it's a beautiful name," replied the child, 
 with flattering emphasis. 
 
 " Well, there are a great many more just as beau- 
 tiful ; I '11 pick out one for your doll, if you like. 
 What do you say to Georgiana Cecilia, Seraphina 
 Delia, Annette Amelia ? " 
 
 Anne and I, with a view to naming our dolls, had 
 read over the " List of Proper Names " at the end of 
 the dictionary so often, that we could rattle them off 
 our tongues faster even than we could say "Peter 
 Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers." The little 
 girl's wits seemed quite buried for a moment under 
 such an avalanche of long words ; then, recovering 
 herself, she answered timidly, 
 
 " My doll is too small to have so large a name, 
 and, besides, I loved my grandmother very much, and 
 when she died and was buried in heaven, she went 
 up there in a great box, I called my doll after 
 her, because I love it next best. My doll has a 
 frock made out of one of grandmother's, and she 
 
 136 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 wears a silk handkerchief of grandmother's for a 
 shawl." 
 
 " Bring her here, and let me look at her," said I, 
 decidedly. The doll was brought, and proved to be 
 a rag-baby of unusual ugliness, the legs, arms, and 
 top of the head sewed up with the coarsest thread, 
 and a face in the earliest style of rag-baby art, two 
 small dots for eyes, two large ones for cheeks, a 
 perpendicular line for the nose, and a horizontal line 
 for the mouth. But the child hugged it up to her 
 thin neck with so much love and reverence that it 
 grew quite respectable in our estimation, and we lost 
 all desire to laugh at it. 
 
 "See," said the child, "how beautifully mother 
 has painted it ! The hair is done with ink, mother 
 dipped the back of the head into an ink-bottle, the 
 lips and cheeks are of cherry-juice, mother said she 
 wished she could paint mine such a color, and the 
 eyes are done with indigo out of the bluing-bag." 
 
 These were secrets worth knowing. We instantly 
 resolved to begin painting in the same style and on 
 a large scale. 
 
 137 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Who is your mother ? " I asked. 
 
 " She keeps this house/'' said the child. 
 
 " And what is your name ? " said I. We had quite 
 forgotten that she might have one as well as her doll. 
 
 " Alice Phinney, and I am four years old, people 
 always ask next, ' How old are you ? ' ' 
 
 " Alice Phinney," said I, my mind suddenly recur- 
 ring to the events of the morning, " you may tell your 
 mother that I am not a furniture-smasher, whatever 
 Mary may say, and you can ask your maid to bring 
 back the things she took from the mantelpiece, for I 
 haven't the least idea of breaking them. Just go 
 down and tell them that, please/' 
 
 Alice opened her eyes, but went down stairs, nev- 
 ertheless, stopping on each stair to talk to her doll. 
 In a few moments Mary bustled in with a great roll 
 of towels under her arm, and a clean blue-checked 
 apron on. " Come, come, children/' said she ; " the 
 tide is up, it 's time to go down to the bathing-house. 
 Get your hats, quick/' 
 
 " The tide is up/' I repeated to myself, as I laid 
 Angelina Augusta on the bed, and spread a pinafore 
 
 138 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 over her slumbers. " The tide is up." I thought of 
 the five great oceans as displayed on the map, run- 
 ning furiously into half the bays, and climbing half 
 the headlands and cliffs of the whole earth ; and all 
 this grand preparation was necessary that two little 
 girls might go and bathe ! 
 
 I walked along very silently under the influence of 
 this magnificent idea ; we went out to the end of a 
 long pier, and entered a gloomy barn-like building. 
 At first, on coming in from the strong sunshine, we 
 seemed to be in total darkness, but how different 
 from the dry brooding darkness of the land ! This 
 darkness was heavy with damp, and the breath of the 
 sea crept through it ; one's blood curdled and one's 
 imagination thrilled at the same time. Most of the 
 light came in with the water under the bathing- 
 house, and soon our eyes were strong enough to dis- 
 cern the short waves leaping up and down against 
 the piles and posts, licking them with their shining 
 tongues, and in the intervals of the quick leaps, little 
 streams of water ran down from the vivid green sea- 
 weed and bunches of barnacles which crowned these 
 
 139 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 posts, making a pleasant murmur in the place, and 
 a sound of silver rippling. We could not form any 
 idea of the depth below us ; the shining amber sur- 
 face of the heaving tide soon melted into brown, and 
 the brown into infinite blackness. The stairs, which 
 led down under the water, grew indistinct immedi- 
 ately, and in a moment vanished from sight ; the last 
 visible stair might have been a white rock, a fragment 
 of ice, a mastodon bone, a drowned child even. It 
 looked like anything one chose to fancy. I remember 
 standing in shivering heroism on these stairs, held 
 firmly by Mary, and waiting for the next swell of the 
 tide to overwhelm me. I saw it coming afar off, ris- 
 ing against the narrow strip of sky which gleamed 
 between the building and the water ; its sphered crest 
 was lifted to the very foundation of the bathing- 
 house ; it grew suddenly dark ; I shut my eyes, and 
 the wave went over me. I felt two cold arms of 
 spray, a great wet kiss which covered my whole face, 
 and an indescribable jargon of rushing waters in my 
 ears, like a thousand adventures told in a breath. 
 It was worth to me a whole library of romances. 
 
 140 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 " Ma'am," said Mary to mamma, when we got home, 
 " Miss Peasy has been as good as gold. She did n't say 
 one word, good, bad, or indifferent, from the time she 
 left the house till she got back. And she took to the 
 water like a a young shark or porpoise, ma'am. 
 I never see Miss Malviny herself do better/' 
 
 We occupied the whole first and second floor of 
 Mrs. Phinney's small house, for mamma liked plenty 
 of room when she took lodgings, but Anne and I 
 could not be satisfied without a thorough exploration 
 of the third story, left silent and deserted while the 
 family who slept there were below. This we accom- 
 plished in a series of scamperings up stairs and a 
 good deal of walking on tiptoe after we got there, 
 for we were half afraid mamma might not approve 
 our curiosity. Under cover of doing errands for 
 mamma, we soon got acquainted with the ground- 
 floor, knew the number of pantries, the size of the 
 kitchen, what the cook looked like, and how many 
 eggs she put into our bread-puddings. Mrs. Phin- 
 ney's own room we never dared to enter, but, as the 
 door was always half open, we could not help peep- 
 Hi 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ing in sometimes, if it was impolite. It seemed to 
 us that Mrs. Phinney spent most of her time in put- 
 ting up her hair, which was long and coarse, and 
 continually fell down like a mane over her gaunt 
 shoulders, positively refusing to be kept in place by 
 the broken horn comb with only three teeth left, 
 which the poor woman patiently stuck and restuck 
 into the twisted mass of tresses. There was nothing 
 attractive about this room but its cleanliness ; the 
 grate and the brass fender shone with the highest 
 polish, the faded chair-covers were scrupulously 
 washed and starched, the dimity bed-curtains so 
 neatly mended that the patches became quite orna- 
 mental. Six varnished shells adorned the mantel- 
 piece from which Mrs. Phinney daily wiped the dust 
 with a small paint-brush. A large feather fan hung 
 on one side of the fireplace, a gilt hearth-brush orna- 
 mented the other. Over it a simpering pink-and- 
 white portrait of the departed Mr. Phinney was sus- 
 pended in a cheap frame, into which a few sprigs of 
 green were stuck. Under this portrait a small clock 
 ticked very loudly, as if it were afraid of the gentle - 
 112 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 man above, and dared not stop while he was watch- 
 ing it so closely. This room contained what little 
 Alice thought the most beautiful thing in the world, 
 a silhouette of her grandmother in a high-backed 
 chair, with a Roman nose and a tall mob-cap, and the 
 sloping shoulders peculiar to silhouettes. 
 
 When I said there was nothing attractive about 
 the room but its cleanliness, I forgot little Alice, who 
 spent most of her day there, sitting in the middle of 
 the floor, with her doll and her kitten. This kitten 
 was called Snowball, and was always described by 
 her as a " white kitten with a blue ribbon round its 
 neck." It did not quite do justice to this descrip- 
 tion, since it passed its nights in the coal-hole, 
 ribbon and all, but we made every allowance. More- 
 over, its hair was even more wiry than Mrs. Phin- 
 ney's, and being very thin its pink skin showed 
 through plainly, in a very chilly and uncomfortable 
 fashion. Still, next to the silhouette of her grand- 
 mother, this kitten was little Alice's most precious 
 possession ; she soothed its piteous mewings in the 
 same tender voice with which she hushed her dolly's 
 
 143 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 imaginary waitings. With the doll on her knee and 
 kitty curled up in the tiny straw cradle at her feet, 
 Alice sat on the floor perfectly happy, busily engaged 
 in cutting out garments for both to the best of her 
 ability with a large pair of dull scissors whose points 
 were as round as a knife-blade. Often she had to 
 stop and rub the red rings on her poor little thumb 
 and finger, which these cruel scissors made, and often 
 she interrupted herself to burst out in snatches of 
 shrill singing, or to jog the cradle, or to wrap dolly 
 up closer in her small pocket-handkerchief. Little 
 Alice had a genius for loving and nursing. 
 
 When Mrs. Phinney was not putting up her hair, 
 she was generally bending over some article of her 
 well-saved wardrobe, darning and repairing it. She 
 would sit mechanically at work hour after hour, 
 her rigid face and compressed lips motionless and 
 expressionless, except of a sort of dull sorrow. I 
 used to sit on the bottom stair, that I might look in 
 upon her and Alice unobserved. Once or twice, to 
 my great astonishment, I saw this marble figure of a 
 woman suddenly drop her work and fall on her knees 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 by the child, kissing her vehemently without a word, 
 and wetting her hair with a shower of tears. Alice 
 would look up with some wonder and more sympathy, 
 speak to her mother in little soothing tones as if she 
 were comforting another doll, and wipe her eyes with 
 whatever odd-shaped frock or pinafore she might be 
 working upon. In a few moments the mother would 
 return to her seat, resume her work listlessly, and her 
 eyes would look as dry and stony as if they did not 
 know how to weep. 
 
 We never saw much of Alice. Sometimes she en- 
 tered our room unobserved, and when we looked up 
 from our play, we found her standing by, hugging 
 the everlasting doll, and watching us with quiet satis- 
 faction. We always were glad to see her and made 
 her immediately useful. She was willing to " make 
 believe " anything, and to be either our visitor or our 
 maid or our child, elder sister of Angelina Augusta 
 or Augusta Angelina ; she would keep a baker's, 
 a butcher's, or a greengrocer's shop, whichever we 
 chose, and allowed us to beat her down in her prices 
 to our heart's content. But in the midst of our bar- 
 
 145 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 gaining, Mrs. Phinney's anxious voice would be heard 
 calling " Alice, Alice ! " and the child was gone in a 
 moment. "I suppose Mrs. Phinney will not let 
 Alice play with us because she thinks we are furni- 
 ture-smashers," I said to Anne. 
 
 Though Alice seemed the most amiable, the most 
 gentle of children, we were sometimes startled, gen- 
 erally late in the afternoon, by her loud and violent 
 shrieking, as if she were in a perfect paroxysm of 
 passion. We heard a running and hurrying of peo- 
 ple down stairs on such occasions, Mrs. Phinney's 
 door was hastily shut, and the screams soon ended as 
 suddenly as they began. We did not understand it 
 at all, and thought Alice must be a very bad child in 
 spite of appearances. 
 
 On the next morning, after one of these fits of 
 screaming, Alice glided into the room even more 
 gently than ever. I thought I had never seen her 
 look so deadly pale. " Do you feel ill ? " said I to 
 her. " O, no," said she, ' ' only a very little tired ; my 
 doll has been rather troublesome, and I can't make 
 kitty stay in the cradle this morning. I suppose it is 
 
 146 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 lifting her into it so many times which makes me 
 ache so all over. Then the breakfast was not good, 
 the milk was sour, and the bread was very dry, I could 
 not swallow them. Mother says her milkwoman is 
 as good as any, but I wish she 'd get another ; very 
 often in the morning something ails the milk so that 
 I can't eat my breakfast ." 
 
 Now it happened that I had been reading some 
 very interesting stories by Mrs. Sherwood, where total 
 depravity was insisted upon, and a great deal said 
 about the ingenuity of men and children in attribut- 
 ing wrong motives to their actions, deceiving them- 
 selves as well as others. Here, I thought, was a 
 decided case of depravity and self-deception under my 
 very eyes, and I felt myself called upon to make a 
 missionary effort in Alice's behalf. 
 
 " Alice," said I, with considerable sternness, " you 
 were a very naughty girl last night, and you screamed 
 yourself sick. That is what makes you so tired to- 
 day, and that is the reason you could n't eat your 
 breakfast. It is not the fault of the milkwoman nor 
 of the kitten, but of your bad heart/' I added sol- 
 
 147 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 emnly, "and you ought to pray to God to forgive 
 you and help you not to do so any more." 
 
 Little Alice looked very much astonished. 
 
 " I wasn't naughty last night/' she said gently, "I 
 am never naughty." 
 
 This seemed to me a very serious case. 
 
 " Alice," I said, " how little you know yourself ! 
 your heart is desperately wicked, and you are naughty 
 all the time, even when you 're asleep." 
 
 I was almost afraid this was going beyond Mrs. 
 Sherwood, but Alice was in such a hardened condi- 
 tion that I thought it best to state the case strongly. 
 
 "If you were me," said Alice, after a moment's 
 silence, " would you put a ruffle on dolly's new night- 
 cap?" 
 
 I determined to try an appeal to her feelings, since 
 I could not succeed in convincing her mind. 
 
 " O Alice," I cried, " how can you be naughty 
 when you think of your poor mamma ! She has 
 nobody in the world left to love her but you. I 've 
 seen her cry over you, and I 've seen her looking as 
 sad as if her heart was breaking. Perhaps it is be- 
 
 148 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 cause you are so bad. If you would try to be good, 
 I dare say she would laugh and smile" I concluded, 
 rather awkwardly; but this time some effect was 
 produced. Two very large tears gathered slowly in 
 Alice's very large eyes, and she looked at me with a 
 wistful and bewildered expression. 
 
 " Mamma cries because she says she 's afraid she 
 shall lose me/' she answered in a troubled voice. " I 
 don't think she can lose me. I always hold her hand 
 so tight when we walk in the streets over at Liverpool, 
 and here there 's no danger, for I know the way every- 
 where as far as the brick church." 
 
 I felt my missionary zeal ebbing away very fast 
 as I looked at the poor little pale face. 
 
 " I rather think," continued Alice, somewhat reas- 
 sured, " that mother thinks grandma will find me if I 
 do get lost. Last night, when I was falling asleep, 
 she said she believed I should soon follow grandma. 
 I heard her say so to the cook. And so I shall fol- 
 low her, just as soon as I get a glimpse of her, and I 
 mean to look about everywhere for her next time I 
 go to Liverpool. Is Liverpool the way to heaven ?" 
 
 149 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 This was so fair an opportunity that I could not 
 help saying, " The way to heaven is to be good, Alice, 
 and I 'm sure your mamma would be happier if you 
 were good." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll be good," said Alice. 
 
 "That's right," cried I, delighted with my suc- 
 cess, " and, Alice, I '11 show you the beautiful prayer 
 and hymn that Henry Fairchild learned after he 
 had been very naughty. You had better read 
 it." 
 
 " I can't read," said Alice, " except d-o-g dog, and 
 h-a-t hat, in the primer." 
 
 "Well," said I, "I '11 read them to you." 
 
 I began to read, and Alice very soon began to yawn ; 
 presently a new idea struck her, she turned towards 
 me quickly, and burst into a fit of laughter. I had 
 never heard her laugh so before. 
 
 " Why," said she, " what a stupid thing I am ! 
 you 're only making believe. I forgot that you always 
 make me play at being something when I come up 
 here. yes, I know now, I 'm to play I was naughty 
 last night. Well, mother," she said in a funny voice, 
 
 150 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 pretending to cry, " I 'm very sorry, please not whip 
 me very hard ! " 
 
 She held out her little hand for me to strike it, as 
 I often did by way of imaginary punishment, and 
 affected to be very much frightened. 
 
 " Please not punish dolly," she said. "Play she 
 was the best of all. Let my dolly wear the medal 
 to-day, if we keep school." 
 
 I hung the button which served for a medal round 
 the rag-baby's neck. I was quite puzzled. 
 
 Next time that we heard Alice screaming I got 
 up from my cricket, threw Angelina Augusta into 
 Anne's lap, and went in search of Mary. I met 
 her on the stairs ; she looked agitated and alarmed. 
 "What is the matter with Alice?" I asked, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 ' ' Matter, miss ? " said Mary ; " children does be 
 always screaming; maybe she's naughty." 
 
 "No, Mary," said I, "Alice is not naughty." 
 
 " Then what can she have to scream for ? " retorted 
 Mary, twitching her gown from my grasp and leaving 
 me. I ran to mamma's room. 
 
 151 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " Mamma/' cried I, " what ails Alice ? why does 
 she shriek so ? " 
 
 Mamma hesitated, and replied, " She cries because 
 she does not feel well." 
 
 The cries suddenly ceased. " Does she feel better 
 now?" I asked. 
 
 " I hope so," said mamma, still hesitating. 
 
 I went behind the window-curtain to ponder on the 
 mystery. The setting sun poured a river of light 
 against the current of the Mersey ; each wave had its 
 spark of fire like an opal. Little boats with glowing 
 sails flew rapidly along, large ships felt their way 
 more cautiously through the glorified atmosphere. 
 Hundreds of fluttering streamers pointed down the 
 river ; they seemed to say to the lagging vessels, 
 " There is your way, there lies the path to the 
 great ocean, beautiful lands with golden gardens 
 and sapphire skies are hidden behind those western 
 clouds ; follow us, from their dizzy mast-heads we 
 shall first discern the splendors beyond." I pitied 
 the ships shut up in the docks, whose pennons 
 streamed eagerly upon the breeze, but in vain. Then 
 
 152 
 
BIEKENHEAD. 
 
 I thought those pent-up masts behind those enormous 
 walls were like the great trees in Beelzebub's garden ; 
 the little scarlet and crimson flags looked at that 
 distance like gorgeous diabolical fruit. Then I 
 thought of poor Matthew who got such a terrible 
 pain by eating Beelzebub's apples, and I wondered if 
 Alice's pain was as bad. It must be, if one could 
 judge by her screams. Mary now entered the room. 
 She did not see me, and exclaimed to mamma, " O 
 ma'am, the poor child is in a terrible fit. The doctor 
 says she can't live through many more." I suppose 
 mamma made a sign to her that I was in the room, 
 for she immediately began talking of something else. 
 I had a vague idea that a fit was a dreadful thing. 
 Giant Despair had fits ; there was a picture of him 
 while " his fits were upon him " in Mrs. Mason's old 
 " Pilgrim's Progress," a hideous picture, in which 
 he sprawled all over the page, kicking and clutch- 
 ing, with every feature purposely out of drawing, 
 to represent extreme agony. A fit was a thing too 
 shocking to be spoken of, and I went to bed full of 
 consternation and excitement. 
 
 153 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 We did not see Alice for several days, and though 
 the weather was very warm, Mrs. Phinney's door was 
 constantly shut. One evening, after a very hot day, 
 mamma gave me leave to go into the garden. I went 
 alone, for Anne was too languid to play. The garden 
 descended rapidly in terraces towards the river, so that 
 from the lowest terrace the house was not visible, only 
 water and sky, the distant city opposite, and a lonely 
 shore stretching away to the right and left. With a 
 good deal of difficulty I turned a large empty flower- 
 pot upside down, and seated myself upon it, under 
 a gnarled apple-tree. I shall never forget that night : 
 the sky was hung with murky clouds, thunder mut- 
 tered in the distance ; the river laughed and danced 
 no more, but rolled sternly and resolutely on to the 
 sea. Liverpool was wrapped in mist, through which 
 glowed a few fiery eyes, peering out at the lightning 
 perhaps, which now and then warmed up the cold 
 gray of earth and sky. The wind rose slowly ; it 
 sighed very gently at first, nestled itself against the 
 quivering leaves, and rested there ; soon the sighs 
 grew longer and louder, and the wind rushed farther 
 
 154 
 
BIEKENHEAD. 
 
 and farther out into the gathering darkness ; the 
 sighs became sobs, and the sobs became cries, as if 
 the gale was resolved to outdo the thunder, which 
 growled more and more fiercely. As the storm ad- 
 vanced with more and more swiftness, it suddenly 
 grew very dark ; I could not see three feet before me, 
 and though I hardly dared move, I longed to be in 
 the house. Just as I was about to start up and 
 make a desperate rush towards the first flight of steps 
 in my cowardly haste, a broad flash of lightning 
 showed me Alice, standing within reach of my hand. 
 I gave a violent start and scream ; she did not appear 
 to hear or see me ; her eyes were rolled far back in 
 her head, which was turned towards the sky ; her face 
 was as leaden as the clouds. So intense was her at- 
 titude, that I felt she saw something that I could 
 not see. I trembled with inexpressible curiosity and 
 dread. In a second it was all blackness again, but 
 Alice's face looked up before the eyes of my imagi- 
 nation as plainly as I had just beheld it in bodily 
 vision. " Alice," said I, " tell me, do you see your 
 grandmother in heaven ? " 
 
 155 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 A frightful shriek was the only answer, another 
 and another, and now the lightning glared continu- 
 ally, and I saw the long figure of Mrs. Phinney flying 
 down the steps, her hair streaming as usual, but this 
 time it seemed awful to me, and not ridiculous. She 
 flung herself upon Alice, or could it be Alice, that 
 little white quivering form ? The lightning seemed 
 to play in the mother's hair as she toiled up flight 
 after flight, from terrace to terrace, with her woful 
 burden, nor could I tell, in the hurly-burly of the 
 storm, which was thunder, which was wind, which was 
 Alice screaming or her mother groaning. I suppose 
 I got into the house and was put to bed as usual, but 
 I remember nothing about it. 
 
 "You are very quiet this morning, miss," said 
 Mary to me at breakfast next day. " Do you know 
 what is going on in the house ? " 
 
 I remembered to have seen that look and heard 
 that tone before, when Mary had come to tell me my 
 little brother was dead. I did not make any answer, 
 but I knew that Alice was dying or dead. By and 
 by there was a long whispered consultation between 
 
 156 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 mamma,, Mary> and Mrs. Phinney's cook, who came 
 up stairs with red eyes. "When it ended, mamma said 
 to me very gently, 
 
 "Little Alice is very sick, she will soon be in 
 heaven ; her pain has left her, and she will have no 
 more of her terrible spasms. She is very quiet now, 
 and she wants very much to see you. I think you 
 had better go down and bid her good by, for she has 
 been a kind little playmate to you. But be very still, 
 and don't agitate her by crying." 
 
 Mary took me by the hand, led me down stairs into 
 Mrs. Phinney's room, and left me at Alice's pillow. 
 Instinctively I first looked at the mother ; what was 
 the sorrow of the child's death compared to the fu- 
 ture sorrow of that mother's life ? Mrs. Phinney's 
 eyes were as stony, her features as rigid, as ever. 
 But her hands were in constant nervous agitation, 
 now smoothing the bedclothes, now arranging the 
 pillows, now wiping the child's brow with her hand- 
 kerchief. I fixed my eyes at last on Alice. Her 
 hair, tangled, matted, soaked with the sweat of the 
 mortal agony she had endured, was spread all over 
 
 157 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the pillow, and against this dark background, so ex- 
 pressive of suffering, lay the whitest, stillest, sweetest 
 face in the world. 
 
 " Here is Miss Peasy come to see you/' said the 
 mother, speaking in a measured voice, as if afraid to 
 trust herself. 
 
 Alice opened her eyes. How they shone ! light 
 flowed from them. She stirred her little closed hand. 
 I took it ; it felt in my grasp as slight as a withered 
 flower. A playful expression flitted over her face, as 
 she whispered to me, 
 
 "I've been sick, I've got well now. Mother gave 
 me some arrowroot, but I couldn't drink it; cook 
 spoiled it. I gave it to Snowball ; she ate it out of a 
 saucer. Only think, cook says Snowball caught a 
 mouse in the cellar last night ! Was n't she a clever 
 kitten?" 
 
 She gave a sigh of exhaustion. Her mother offered 
 some more arrowroot and lifted her up gently. The 
 child tried to drink, but was almost strangled in the 
 attempt to swallow ; a faint color flushed her cheeks. 
 After a few moments she sighed out, " What bad ar- 
 
 158 
 
BIRKENHEAD. 
 
 rowroot ! that was your fault, cook, but I dare say 
 you could n't help it." 
 
 The poor cook, who had lived with Mrs. Phinney 
 for many years, cried bitterly, and covered her head 
 with her coarse apron. 
 
 "Mother," whispered Alice, with more strength 
 than seemed possible, " did n't you say I was going 
 to heaven to-day ? I can't, I don't feel well enough, 
 and I 'm not dressed. And I can't go without dolly. 
 Give me dolly." 
 
 Her mother laid the doll close to the child's face. 
 Alice murmured to it in her usual way, " Pretty 
 dolly, dear dolly, do you love me ? " Then the voice 
 died away. 
 
 " Something ails me," she said quickly, with a look 
 of terror. " Give me kitty, quick ! " 
 
 Snowball was rubbing about my feet. I picked her 
 up, and Mrs. Phinney put her on the bed. 
 
 " Good mother ! " said Alice, making up her 
 mouth to be kissed. Her mother bent over her, and 
 their lips met ; the mother's heart went out from her 
 in that kiss, and Alice took it with her to heaven. 
 
 159 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 She lingered yet a moment, the kitten was licking her 
 hand. The child glanced first at Snowball and then 
 at me; the same playful expression struggled with 
 death in her face, but for an instant only. She laid 
 her cheek against her dolly, as I had seen her do it 
 many times before, the eyelids dropped, and the splen- 
 did light of those eyes went out forever. 
 
 " Well, dear," said mamma to me after I was taken 
 up stairs, " did you bid Alice farewell ? Did she tell 
 you she hoped you would meet her in heaven ? did 
 she know she was going to God ? " 
 
 " If you '11 believe me, ma'am," burst out Mary, 
 "the poor child knew no more about God than a 
 little heathen. Ma'am, she actually died hugging up 
 that dirty rag-doll, just as she used to do when she 
 was at play." 
 
 Mamma made no answer. ' ' Mary ! " was all I 
 could say, but I had learned a lesson of death, though 
 I was unable to repeat it. Those are sometimes near- 
 est to God who are most unconscious of it, was what 
 I felt, but could not express. 
 
 160 
 
VI. 
 
 THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 so there they lay/' continued papa, " stiff 
 and cold, but with smiles on their little thin 
 faces, and hundreds of robins fluttered over them, 
 showering down leaves upon them, and not only 
 leaves but rose-petals and lily -petals, and thousands 
 of small flowers, violets and periwinkles and wood- 
 anemones, so that very soon these poor babes in the 
 wood grew into a charming green bank covered with 
 bees and butterflies all day long, and their poor dead 
 limbs were sheltered from the rain and sun." 
 
 Here papa paused. Deep sobs were heard from two 
 little girls who sat on his knees. One of these little 
 girls saw him through her tears winking at mamma, 
 and pointing out to her the effect he had produced, 
 but it did not make any difference ; the babes in the 
 
 161 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 wood were dead just the same whether papa chose to 
 laugh or not. 
 
 " And now, Peasy," said papa, " if you will get me 
 your ' Paul and Virginia/ I will read you the chapter 
 which describes the wreck of the Saint Geran and the 
 drowning of Virginia." 
 
 " no, papa/' I cried, " you know I can't bear to 
 hear that chapter; you know I can't help running out 
 of the room when you come to that part where it says, 
 f Virginia placed one hand on her heart and raised her 
 eyes to heaven ' just as she sees the great wave 
 coming. No, papa, I sha' n't get the book; I 've hid- 
 den it on purpose, and I hope you '11 never find it." 
 
 " Never mind about the book," said papa. "I 
 know the story pretty well; indeed, I believe I can tell 
 it better than I can read it." He began. " ' Paul 
 plunged into the waves with his arms stretched out 
 towards Virginia ; Domingo and I held the ends of 
 the rope which we had tied round his waist.' " 
 
 " Did you, papa ? " said Anne, looking up very re- 
 spectfully, but I stopped my ears with my hands and 
 sang out loudly, 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 " There was a man in our town, 
 And robbers came to rob him, 
 He crept up to the chimney top, 
 And then they thought they had him. 
 But he got down on t' other side, 
 And then they could n't find him. 
 He ran fourteen miles in fifteen days, 
 And never looked behind him." 
 
 Papa's voice was drowned, and Virginia was saved 
 alive that night. A violent game of romps ensued 
 amid great laughing and shouting, in the midst of 
 which mamma was heard mildly remonstrating, " My 
 dear, you will really disturb the neighbors. my 
 dear, take care of that lamp. My dear, you '11 waken 
 the baby." 
 
 At length Anne's pinafore being torn from her 
 shoulders, and my shoe-strings broken short off, there 
 was a cessation of hostilities. 
 
 "Peasy," said papa, drawing me towards him, 
 " let 's see how much of a scholar you are. Where is 
 Dublin situated, and what is it famous for ? " 
 
 My wits and breath were quite gone after such a 
 stormy play, but papa should have an answer. 
 
 163 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 "Dublin/' said I, boldly, "is the capital of Ireland ; 
 it is situated on the Shannon, and is famous for its 
 Limerick gloves and the Giant's Causeway." 
 
 " Peasy," said mamma, gravely, " remember that 
 to-morrow you are to be put back in your geography 
 as far as ' Chapter VII., Ireland/ y 
 
 " mamma/' said I, " that 's too bad, when I Ve 
 got away along, as far as the Cannibal Islands." 
 
 "No, no/' said papa, "I know a better way to 
 teach geography than that. The best method of 
 finding out where Dublin is situated is to go and see 
 for one's self. To-morrow, mother, you may pack up 
 the children's clothes, and next day we'll take the 
 steam-packet Royal George, which sails for Dublin 
 at ten A. M. precisely. I warrant we '11 find the 
 Shannon, if it is to be found there, and I dare say 
 Peasy has got money enough to buy herself a pair of 
 the Limerick gloves. Perhaps she can get them cheap 
 at the manufactory." 
 
 As mamma did not say as usual, " My dear, what 
 nonsense you are talking ! " I went to bed, thinking 
 that papa was very likely to be in earnest, especially 
 
 164 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 as his way of learning geography struck me as ex- 
 tremely sensible and natural. Mamma and Mary did 
 spend the whole of the next day in packing, and, 
 moreover, I was not put back to " Chapter VII., Ire- 
 land." I went through a hurried lesson about the 
 Cannibal Islands over the top of a great trunk which 
 mamma was filling, and upon which she nailed a card 
 of direction with DUBLIN printed at the bottom in 
 very black ink. This was conclusive. Anne and I 
 spent the rest of the day in consulting Robinson 
 Crusoe, whose experience in sea voyages afforded us 
 some valuable hints, and in lingering on the stairs 
 that we might waylay Mrs. Phinney and the cook, 
 and tell them that we were going to Dublin. We 
 wrapped up our dolls in their warmest clothes, and 
 privately tied to their waists broad corks from a 
 couple of empty pickle-jars ; we hoped, in case of 
 shipwreck, they might be able to float ashore on these, 
 with perhaps some traces of paint remaining on their 
 faces. On the day of departure we went in our cloth 
 coats and beaver bonnets to bid Mrs. Phinney good 
 by. She looked very sad when she kissed us ; we 
 
 165 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 knew she was thinking of Alice, and we were truly 
 sorry for her, but then we were going to Dublin, we 
 could not help being happy. Snowball purred an 
 affectionate farewell ; " the way Mrs. Phinney pam- 
 pered up that cat/' Mary said, " was really extraor- 
 dinary for a sensible middle-aged woman ! " 
 
 Cook bestowed upon us each a paper of buns and 
 oranges, we were fairly loaded down with baggage, as 
 all travellers ought to be, and what with dolls, buns, 
 and baskets, we went aboard the Eoyal George as 
 heavily accoutred for our size as Eobinson Crusoe 
 with his two muskets, four pair of pistols, powder- 
 horn, hammer, and shot-bag. 
 
 Mamma, Mary, and baby disappeared at once down 
 the cabin stairs. The weather was unpleasant, the 
 wind being fresh and the sky cloudy ; but, as papa 
 said, " it did not much signify ; we should run across 
 in a few hours, and be in Dublin before the storm. 
 The Koyal George was an excellent sea-boat, and made 
 her passages very punctually." "We stayed on deck 
 with papa, and in obedience to mamma's injunctions 
 we held fast by his hands, and looked about us, we and 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 the dolls, to our heart's content. We admired every- 
 thing, even to the muddy river, with the color and 
 foam of porter; the sand-bars; the buoys, which 
 would bob up and down as if they were alive, mak- 
 ing us hope perpetually that we were coming to a 
 whale or a seal, in spite of repeated disappointments ; 
 the vessels at anchor, with topsails clewed up like so 
 many great cradles for the idle sailors, who lay about 
 the decks and slept to the swinging and rocking of 
 the tide ; the ships beating about under sail, where 
 the crew were wide awake and bustling, where we saw 
 little figures of men running and climbing, and heard 
 the cheery " yo-heave-oh's " crossing each other from 
 ship to ship on the breeze. 
 
 In the midst of all this excitement of course it 
 was impossible that we should content ourselves with 
 travelling as two insignificant little girls in beaver 
 bonnets ; we determined to choose distinguished char- 
 acters for ourselves, and, after due deliberation, we 
 resolved to be Lady Stamford and Lady Belgrave, 
 going with our children on a voyage to the Isle of 
 France, an island we especially affected for Virginia's 
 
 167 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 sake. These were two titled ladies whom we had 
 often admired in M , riding in their coroneted car- 
 riages and attended by servants in livery. So we sat 
 down together on a couple of high stools, spread out 
 our dresses in a dignified manner, called one another 
 by our titles as often as possible, and conversed in the 
 most elegant language we could muster. Several 
 gentlemen came up to talk to papa, and for want of 
 something better to do, began to notice us with that 
 condescending familiarity which grown-up men six 
 feet high assume towards children whose heads hardly 
 reach to their elbows. 
 
 " Come here, little one," said a stout good-natured- 
 looking man, holding out his hand to me; " bring 
 your rattle-traps over this way, and sit on my knee." 
 
 Here was a pretty address to be made to Lady 
 Stamford ! My dignity rebelled against it, but nev- 
 ertheless I felt obliged to obey, and walked slowly 
 across the deck towards the gentleman's knee. The 
 Royal George was pitching considerably, and as I was 
 encumbered with my doll and my basket, I fell down; 
 the basket flew open, and out rolled all the conveu- 
 
 168 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 iences I had provided for Angelina Augusta's coin- 
 fort in travelling, the pewter cup and spoon, two 
 tiny clean pocket-handkerchiefs in case of sickness, a 
 vial supposed to contain salts, a small wooden lemon, 
 and a nightgown. 
 
 " Good gracious, child," cried the gentleman, pick- 
 ing up the doll, " how do you manage to lug about 
 all this trumpery ? " 
 
 He lifted me in a very indignant state upon his 
 knee. That he should call Angelina Augusta trum- 
 pery, and sit there holding her so contemptuously by 
 the neck ! 
 
 " What 's your name ? " said he, abruptly. 
 
 No answer. I dared not reply " Lady Stamford/' 
 and really just at that time I was Lady Stamford and 
 nobody else. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he asked, after waiting 
 in vain for me to speak. 
 
 No reply again. If I answered at all, I must say 
 " To the Isle of France." In imagination I was al- 
 ready there ; in imagination I saw the waters of Vir- 
 ginia's fountain sleeping in the moonlight, and the two 
 
 169 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 palm-trees whispering together over her "Repose." 
 I saw the bamboo huts of Madame de la Tour and 
 Marguerite, and the little white church of the Shad- 
 dock grove ; I saw the town of Port Louis lying be- 
 tween the dark, tangled tropical forest and the broad 
 blue Indian Sea; I saw the Island of Bourbon in the 
 distance like a solitary cloud in the unstained sky of 
 the south. 
 
 ' ' I fancy you Ve left your tongue in Liverpool/' 
 said the gentleman, taking Angelina by the feet in- 
 stead of the neck, and holding her head downwards, 
 so that her pink gauze veil trailed over his muddy 
 boots. 
 
 "Not all of it," I burst out. "I've got enough 
 left to ask for my doll. Please give her to me ; she 
 is not used to being held so ; I 'm afraid you '11 make 
 her dizzy/' 
 
 The gentleman laughed, and handed me the insulted 
 and discomposed Angelina Augusta, whom I pro- 
 ceeded to " set to rights " gravely. 
 
 " How old are you ? " said the gentleman. 
 
 " Nearly seven," said I, as impressively as possible. 
 
 170 
 
THE ISLE OP MAN. 
 
 The gentleman yawned, and, having exhausted his 
 resources in the way of entertaining children, he 
 allowed me to slide from his knee. 
 
 As I was returning to Anne, walking as much like 
 Lady Stamford as the motion of the vessel allowed, 
 I was suddenly lifted into the lap of a very pleasant- 
 looking young man who had been sitting very near 
 us, quite near enough probably to overhear our child- 
 ish talk and be amused by it. 
 
 " That is a charming little girl you have with you, 
 ma'am," said he, taking the doll in a very respectful 
 manner. "I hardly ever saw such black eyes in a 
 child of her age. She resembles you extremely/'' he 
 added gravely, studying both our faces; "you are 
 her mother, I presume ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said I, "she is my only child; her 
 name is Angelina Augusta." 
 
 "And a delightfully sweet name you have given 
 her," returned he. "If you will allow me, I will 
 write it down in my pocket-book in case I should 
 ever want to name a daughter of my own." 
 
 The pocket-book was brought out, and the name 
 
 171 
 
FEAST'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 inscribed in a bold hand with many ornamental flour- 
 ishes. 
 
 " And now, ma'am " continued he. 
 
 "Stop," interrupted I, "you should say 'your 
 ladyship ' when you speak to me. I am Lady Stam- 
 ford." 
 
 " Pardon me/' he answered seriously, " I was not 
 aware but believe that I am most happy to make 
 your ladyship's acquaintance." 
 
 We shook hands, and bowed to each other politely. 
 
 " That is my sister, Lady Belgrave," I continued, 
 pointing to Anne, who had fallen asleep in a little 
 bunch, with her head against the guard. Her bon- 
 net was very much jammed, the front of her coat 
 covered with crumbs of bun, and her mouth stained 
 with orange juice. 
 
 "I hope," said he, "your ladyship will take an 
 early opportunity of introducing me to her ladyship, 
 your ladyship's sister." 
 
 " What elegant language ! " thought I ; " now this 
 is the proper way for me to be spoken to." 
 
 "Might I inquire of your ladyship," continued 
 
 172 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 this delightful man, " what point of the compass is, 
 on this voyage, honored with your ladyship's ap- 
 proval ? In other words, I would ask your ladyship 
 in which direction your ladyship is going ? " 
 
 " O, to the Isle of France," I replied. " Virginia 
 and I went to the same convent to school in Paris, 
 and I promised her we would come and stay a week 
 or two with her some time/' 
 
 " Your ladyship could not do better," returned he. 
 "I am myself a cousin of the governor at Port Louis, 
 M. de la Bourdonnaie; perhaps your ladyship has 
 heard Virginia speak of him ? " 
 
 " 0, very often ! " I cried. " He was the person 
 who obliged her to go to Paris, and I hope, sir, you 
 will advise the governor not to make a fuss now that 
 she has concluded to go back and marry Paul." 
 
 "I think," said he, "your ladyship had best 
 speak to the governor yourself. I will do my ut- 
 most to confirm your ladyship's influence. " 
 
 There was a pause. How charming, this style of 
 conversation was ! 0, if Lady Belgrave would only 
 wake up and listen to it, but she was snoring 
 
 173 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 loudly, and papa was wiping her face with a red 
 bandanna pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " I hope we shall not get to the Isle of Prance in 
 the hurricane season/'' said I. 
 
 " I trust not/' answered he, " for the sake of 
 your ladyship, your ladyship's sister, your ladyship's 
 child. But your ladyship must remember that the 
 Saint Geran in which Virginia was wrecked was 
 nothing but a French ship, nothing like as strong, 
 of course, as the English heart of oak which has the 
 honor of conveying your ladyship. And by the by, 
 begging your ladyship's pardon, I do not exactly un- 
 derstand. Here is your ladyship going to see Virginia, 
 and yet Virginia is shipwrecked and drowned." 
 
 " 0, did n't you know ? " said I. " She was not 
 drowned dead, she was brought to life again after 
 she was found on the beach. I never read any 
 farther than the shipwreck, because the rest of the 
 book is not true. The person who wrote it was 
 mistaken." 
 
 "This information that your ladyship gives me 
 is highly satisfactory," returned my friend. " Per- 
 
 174 
 
THE ISLE OP MAN. 
 
 mit me to remark that your ladyship's face is 
 rather smutty, owing to your ladyship's proximity 
 to the chimney. My poor child/' cried he, sud- 
 denly changing his tone, "you are very pale, you 
 are going to be seasick. Let me carry you down 
 into the cabin to your mamma." 
 
 It was true enough. Sundry dreadful qualms 
 had been seizing me occasionally, and, the Royal 
 George giving a sudden violent lurch, I was over- 
 come at last. I forgot my dignity, I forgot my 
 doll, which slipped from my hands to the deck with 
 a loud bump. I remember being carried by my new 
 friend down the cabin stairs, followed by papa with 
 Lady Belgrave, who cried loudly, and whose bonnet 
 was in a shapeless heap, knocked over her eyes. 
 
 The boat was crowded. Anne and I were laid 
 in one berth in a little dark state-room; papa 
 opened the door wide, and placed a carpet-bag 
 against it, that we might get a breath of such air 
 as the close cabin afforded. What miserable hours 
 we passed } The pitching and tossing increased 
 continually, we rolled over and over, bumping 
 
 175 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 against the sides of the berth, crying heartily when 
 the spasms of seasickness were coming on, and doz- 
 ing heavily when they were over, in spite of our 
 uncomfortable position, or rather want of position, 
 for we could not keep ourselves in one place a 
 moment. Mamma and Mary had only three-legged 
 stools to sit on; they braced themselves against 
 the wall as well as they could, the baby fretting 
 continually, and no wonder, for mamma was obliged 
 to hold the poor little thing in the most awkward 
 manner, to keep it from being thrown out of her 
 arms. Papa put his head into the door sometimes, 
 bringing with him from the deck such a nice smell 
 of fresh sea-air, and looking so well and so wide awake 
 and so rosy that we wondered at him with all the 
 power of wonder seasickness left in us. 
 
 f ' I 've been to dinner," said he on one of these 
 visits. " Peasy, don't you want to get up and see 
 the dishes on the table dancing a country-dance? 
 Down the outside they go, down the middle and 
 back, cross over and right and left. Campbell got 
 a tureen full of gravy all over his straw-colored 
 
 176 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 cassimere vest; young Tom Campbell of Glasgow, 
 he 's aboard, and just as the steward was putting 
 the potatoes before the captain, they were all flung 
 out of the dish, and rattled about the captain's head 
 like big hailstones. Peasy, don't you want some 
 dinner? Capital fried soles, juicy sirloin, goose- 
 berry tart, and cheesecakes. You know you like 
 cheesecakes. Have a cheesecake?" 
 
 " O papa ! " said I faintly, while an inexpressible 
 disgust stole over me. It made us ill even to see 
 mamma and Mary trying to swallow a little tea at 
 favorable moments. 
 
 "Mary/' said I solemnly, after papa had gone, 
 "come here a minute, don't tell mamma just yet, 
 but I think I sha' n't live a great while longer." 
 
 "Bless me! why not, miss?" said Mary, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Because," sobbed I, with a burst of tears, 
 "because I've left off liking cheesecakes, and that 
 could n't happen to me unless I was going to die." 
 
 " 0, that 's nothing," answered Mary ; " you '11 
 come to your stomach in time, miss." 
 
 177 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " Peasy," said Anne's melancholy little voice, " I 
 hope our poor dolls are n't very sick/' 
 
 "0 dear, I hope not/' sighed I. " Please look 
 at them, Mary, and tell us how they are getting on." 
 
 " They 're doing beautifully," said Mary. ' ' They 
 're taking care of one another in the upper berth. 
 They send their best loves down to you, and please 
 you must not worrit, they say, for they have not 
 even lost their color." 
 
 "Mary," said I, "why can't you tie the bottle 
 of salts to Angelina's nose and put her nightgown 
 on?" 
 
 "Angelina says she don't want it on," replied 
 Mary, promptly, " and she declares she knows where 
 the smelling-bottle is ; she '11 get it herself if she 
 wants it." 
 
 " 0, very well ! " I said, feeling as much relieved 
 as if I had not known that Mary was making all 
 these messages up. 
 
 The hours wore on. We dozed, woke up, cried, 
 were sick, and dozed again, over and over. The 
 candles in the cabin blinked and winked, and seemed 
 
 178 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 to be dozing too ; there was just enough light to 
 make the darkness look darker and mamma's pale 
 face paler. It seemed as if we had been on board 
 the boat ever since we could remember, and that 
 poor mamma, perched bolt upright on her three- 
 legged stool, was as much a fixture as an idol on 
 its pedestal. Sighs, groans, and lamentations were 
 heard in all directions, and the storm thundered 
 without like a great organ out of tune. 
 
 "Anne," said I, "don't you wish you were in 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death? It would n't be 
 half as dreadful as this. And there sit mamma 
 and Mary in two corners, like Pope and Pagan." 
 
 Anne was so weak that she began to laugh, so 
 did I ; then we cried again, then we laughed and 
 cried together. Papa came in, buttoned up in his 
 great-coat, with a handkerchief tied over his seal- 
 skin cap and under his chin. 
 
 " Wife," said he, " I find we 've been grossly 
 deceived in this boat. It turns out that she's a 
 miserable leaky old tub, perfectly unseaworthy. 
 The machinery has given out somewhere, and here 
 
 179 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 we are tossing about and making very little head- 
 way. The Isle of Man passengers expected to land 
 hours ago, and it's doubtful if we touch there be- 
 fore morning. It blows great guns, Peasy, and if 
 this weather lasts till we get to Dublin, I don't know 
 but we shall get shipwrecked against the Giant's 
 Causeway." 
 
 "My dear/' said mamma, seized with a new 
 idea, " why can't we go ashore at the Isle of Man ? 
 You see how sick and uncomfortable we are, and 
 I'm sure it is not safe to remain on board this 
 vessel; as you describe her, we have reason to be 
 very much alarmed, and it seems to me quite our 
 duty to leave her as soon as possible." 
 
 "Well, if you say so," said papa; "but you 
 know we started to go to Dublin; do you feel 
 willing to give up Dublin ? " 
 
 " Why," said mamma, " of the two I really think 
 the Isle of Man the most interesting place to visit. 
 I have had a great curiosity to go there ever since 
 we read ' Peveril of the Peak ' aloud together. I 
 think we should enjoy ourselves there very much, 
 
 180 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 we could see Peel Castle, Castle Ruskin, God- 
 dard Crooen's Stone, excellent fresh air for the 
 children too. And we could go on to Dublin when- 
 ever we chose." 
 
 Papa laughed. " The truth is, mother, you 're a 
 bit of a coward," said he. " But we '11 stop at the 
 Isle of Man ; you shall have fair notice when we 're 
 nearing the place ; keep as quiet as you can till I 
 tell you it 's time to get ready." Papa went off, and 
 Mary gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 " 'T is just as you say, ma'am," cried she ; " it 
 ain't our duty, noway nor nohow, to stop aboard 
 a boat that 's full of cracks. "We are flying in the 
 face of Providence, and the sooner we leave off the 
 better." 
 
 Soon after this Anne and I fell into so sound 
 a sleep that it was with great difficulty, when the 
 boat at last reached the Isle of Man, we could be 
 awakened by the joint efforts of papa, mamma, 
 and Mary, who shook us, lifted us up, and called 
 to us to "make haste must dress in a minute 
 
 Isle of Man go ashore at once." We were 
 
 181 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 dragged out of the berth, faint, dizzy, and stupe- 
 fied. Daylight had struggled into the cabin and 
 made it look cold and gray ; we shivered all over. 
 Ladies and gentlemen, cloaked and shawled, with 
 baskets and boxes in their hands, stood about our 
 state-room door, all ready to land. " Hurry, hurry ! " 
 cried papa, trying to assist us. He put on our 
 pelisses hind side before, crowded my feet into 
 Anne's shoes, bent her bonnet into polyangles, and 
 then, looking at it very complacently, pronounced 
 it emphatically " straightened for the first time in 
 a proper manner," and concluded by combing my 
 tangled hair in such haste that I cried with the pain. 
 
 "There, there, never mind, don't cry-!" said he. 
 " We '11 go upon deck and take a peep at that mer- 
 maid sitting on a rock ; she 's got her looking-glass 
 hung on a rusty nail, and she 's combing her hair for 
 breakfast. She don't cry, and her hair is in a great 
 deal more of a snarl than yours." 
 
 What could be the matter with me ? I had lost 
 my taste for mermaids as well as cheesecakes, and 
 did not feel a bit of curiosity about this one. The 
 
 182 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 baby had on so many shawls that nobody but papa 
 could carry it. Mary took Anne in her arms, and 
 mamma led me and Angelina Augusta. For the 
 first time I was conscious that this precious crea- 
 ture was heavy; I could hardly walk across the 
 cabin,, and dragged one foot after the other pain- 
 fully up the companion-way. But no sooner had 
 I stepped upon deck than I felt as light as the 
 
 " old woman of Baling, 
 Who jumped up as high as the ceiling," 
 
 and could have outleaped Malvina Hixon herself. 
 For the first time in my life I saw the sky in a 
 great sweep of three quarters of a circle, the fourth 
 being broken by the rocky island under whose lee 
 we were lying. The rain had ceased, the last de- 
 tachments of storm-clouds were crowding one an- 
 other over the horizon, and the royal sun, just 
 risen, shot after them innumerable darts of golden 
 rays. The wind had gone down, and the waves, 
 so long driven before it, and now suddenly free 
 from its control, ran eagerly hither and thither, 
 
 183 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 tumultuously lifting up their heads, as if they knew 
 not where to go. The sea was one heaving con- 
 fusion of dazzling lights, in the level rays of early 
 sunshine. 
 
 Then the fresh bracing air had such a heroic 
 quality ; all our courage and strength came back 
 to us as soon as we felt it blowing in our faces, 
 and my little sister and I struck up a shrill duet, 
 "Ye Mariners of England," at the top of our 
 small lungs, till mamma begged us not to be so 
 noisy. Then I began looking for the mermaid 
 which papa had just seen, but alas ! she was gone. 
 Either she was hiding behind a rock, or else she 
 had gone below after combing the snarls out of 
 her hair. I gazed into the water, hoping to catch 
 sight at least of the last whisk of her tail, when 
 behold a sudden revelation ! I was looking down 
 upon what appeared to be the remains of a drowned 
 city, big roots and stones heaped together in chaotic 
 confusion, and reflecting colors as rich and variegated 
 as if the tiny plants, mosses, and lichens which love 
 to creep over old ruins still clung to them. A delicate 
 
 184 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 swaying motion seemed to pass over those bright 
 surfaces, caused by the glimmering of the water, 
 which added to the deception. 
 
 I quite lost myself gazing down into the trans- 
 parent sea, as I mechanically followed my mother 
 out upon the gang-plank, where the crowd of pas- 
 sengers delayed us a moment. Suddenly I started 
 and shuddered; a dead face, ghastly pale, seemed 
 to be looking up into mine; it was only a white 
 stone dimly visible under the water. I recovered 
 myself in a moment, but it was too late, I had 
 slipped over the gang-plank in my consternation; 
 and if my mother had not instinctively tightened 
 the grasp of her hand, which, fortunately for me, 
 I was holding, there would really have been a 
 little dead face lying among the dark rocks under 
 the shallow sea. I came sufficiently near to be- 
 ing drowned or crushed to frighten my mother 
 horribly, and entitle me to a severe scolding, which 
 I richly deserved, though I was shivering so vio- 
 lently with excitement that I could hardly bring 
 out the necessary words of penitence for my care- 
 
 185 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 lessness. The only landing was by a rude stair- 
 case cut in the perpendicular wall of rock. I thought 
 it the finest staircase I had ever seen, with its rich 
 shining gray and green and purple tints, its tiny 
 glittering pools of water in its hollows, and its 
 spangles of mica. 
 
 " Papa," said I, as we clambered up the steps, 
 "this reminds me of the Loadstone Island where 
 Sindbad the Sailor was shipwrecked. Don't you 
 remember how he scrambled over rough stones till 
 he got to the top, and there he found the temple 
 and the great iron horse that he shot at with an 
 arrow and it fell into the sea ? " 
 
 " Should n't wonder if this was the very spot/' said 
 papa, as we stepped upon the long, solitary pier, one 
 end of which rested on the staircase, "especially," 
 continued he, looking about him, " as there is not an 
 animal of any description in sight. It was very 
 thoughtless in Sindbad to shoot the only horse in 
 the place. I wonder how he supposed I was to 
 get three children and six trunks to the public 
 house." 
 
 186 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 However, we got there at last, and Anne and I 
 were put to bed on four chairs in a room as small 
 and dark as the cabin we had just left, while papa 
 and mamma went to look for lodgings. The name 
 of the town where we had landed was Douglas, 
 and it was dirty enough to be called Black Douglas. 
 
 One afternoon, about a week from this time, Anne 
 and I were sitting on the broad stone step of a 
 manse farmhouse. The country around was bleak 
 and desolate ; a few stunted twisted trees were 
 scattered here and there, much like corkscrews stuck 
 in the ground. There were no hedges, no orchards, 
 no waving cornfields, no singing birds. There was 
 no life and motion in the landscape save the rush- 
 ing of the restless sea, no sound but the sullen 
 boom, boom, of the waves, breaking forever on the 
 savage coast. The Isle of Man was only a morsel 
 in the jaws of the ocean ; we felt that only through 
 its forbearance we escaped being swallowed up. 
 We could not forget for a moment that we were 
 still at sea, only on a broader and firmer deck. The 
 atmosphere was full of a luminous mist, golden by 
 
 187 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 day, silver by night, for the moon was near her 
 full. Papa and mamma had gone to walk to the 
 top of a barren hill near by, "and/' said Mary, 
 "if it was not for this fog, we should see them 
 plainly from here when they get to the top, look- 
 ing about as slim and black up against the sky as 
 number eight needles." 
 
 Mamma was determined to prove that curiosity 
 to see the place, and nothing else, had induced her 
 to stop at the Isle of Man. She explored in every 
 direction till she was brought up by the sea, with 
 "Peveril of the Peak" and a guide-book in her hand. 
 She had taken me to an old ruined castle, nod- 
 ding over the surf and sinking by degrees into its 
 white arms. She had taken me also to Holm- 
 Peel, another castle formerly of immense strength ; 
 its great hall was still used as a prison, the walls 
 and ceiling and floor being of solid stone several 
 feet thick ; we felt, on entering it, as if going into 
 a cave. I had a terrible idea of criminals, and I 
 went in among them with fear and trembling, hold- 
 ing fast to mamma's gown. 
 
 188 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 " Good for nothing wretches ! " said papa. 
 
 " Poor creatures ! " sighed mamma. 
 
 " What did you think of the prisoners ? " said 
 Anne to me when we got back ; " were you afraid 
 to go in?" 
 
 "Why, Anne, there isn't the least thing to be 
 afraid of," said I. "It felt so strange not to be 
 frightened, especially as they hadn't any fetters on. 
 You know we thought they'd be sitting in a row 
 with their feet and hands tied, but they looked 
 just like other folks. You might have gone just as 
 well as not. One man wanted to shake hands with 
 me, only he had warts. They were not punished 
 a bit while we were there, only one of them was 
 reading a sermon. One man was very nice-looking ; 
 he said, ' What a pretty little girl ! ' when he looked 
 at me; he was really as handsome as papa. One 
 old man sat staring at the floor, and I thought he 'd 
 dropped a pin. The ugliest creature in the room 
 gave me some sugar-plums." 
 
 " That was the turnkey," said mamma ; " prisoners 
 never have candy to give away." 
 
 189 
 
" yes, so he must have been, for he had a 
 pocket-handkerchief, but it was so snuffy ! And 
 such a pimple on his nose ! O mamma, I do so 
 wish I might go again, and carry a sixpence for that 
 goody good prisoner, the one, mamma, that told 
 you he was a sinful wretch, and that God was 
 very good to punish him. Well, he whispered to 
 me afterwards, and asked me ' if I had ever a six- 
 pence about me/ And I told him I had n't any 
 pocket, because my handkerchief was pinned to my 
 belt, but if I had happened to have a sixpence 
 tied up in a corner of it, I would have given it to 
 
 him." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 "Mamma," said I one day coming to her par- 
 lor after a long conference with the landlady, 
 " mamma, I have learned something that will be 
 very useful for you to know, that people ought to 
 set pans of milk on their kitchen hearths every 
 night for the fairies ; Mrs. Cubbins, our landlady 
 you know, always does. They drink it all up be- 
 fore morning. She says she has often come down 
 
 190 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 stairs softly in the night and heard them supping 
 it up, but they have such wonderful sharp ears, 
 she can't move softly enough to catch them, off they 
 scamper when they hear her coming. They wear 
 little slippers made of acorns, and they go patter- 
 ing over the floor Oh ! and she says they pay 
 for the milk by keeping the kitchen chimney from 
 smoking and the soot from tumbling down and 
 the cream from souring. Do let Betty save milk 
 
 for the fairies when we go back to M Don't 
 
 you remember how the soot fell once right into 
 the crown of her clean cap as she was stooping 
 over the fire, and how angry she was ? Was not 
 it funny what she said ? ' By the bare bones of 
 me old grandmother.' ' 
 
 " Peasy," said mamma, gently, " don't repeat Betty's 
 sayings. And surely you don't believe in fairies?" 
 
 "Why," said I, hesitating, "perhaps there are 
 not many left in England, though there must have 
 been plenty formerly. You know one of my best 
 stories begins ( Once on a time when fairies inhab- 
 ited the earth ! ' And I am sure there must be a 
 
 191 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 great many in the Isle of Man, they could n't very 
 well get away after they once came, you know. 
 Mrs. Cubbins says she don't think they know how 
 to swim. She sees them sometimes at a distance 
 when she is out walking; they wear green turbans, 
 and wave green flags by the side of the road. 
 Once she met a fairy in the shape of a black pig, 
 and next day her daughter sent her some sausages ; 
 another time she heard a great moo-oo-ing all 
 round her as she was walking in the twilight, and 
 in less than a year after, her son in Douglas made 
 her a present of a cow. They always appear to 
 her ' as an omen of good/ she says, on account of 
 the milk she gives them. But they dragged her 
 brother-in-law's wooden leg into the fire one night, 
 and it was found turned to charcoal next morn- 
 ing. And she knows an old man who had all the 
 hair in his best wig pulled out by fairies, I sup- 
 pose to make their nests with; but Tom Cubbins 
 always laughs when his mother speaks of it, and 
 says, " Eats, ma'am, rats." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted little Anne, " and papa read 
 
 192 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 to mamma last night, ' Eats and mice are such small 
 dear*,' but / don't like 'em ! " 
 
 Here mamma laughed very much, and said, "I 
 must not forget to tell papa that." 
 
 " And when Tom laughs," I went on, " his mother 
 is afraid, and she speaks quite low, and looks about 
 her, and says, Don't laugh at the good people, Tom, 
 or some harm will come to you." 
 
 " Peasy," said mamma, " go and get your Eoman 
 history ; you are wasting your time shockingly, and 
 you really must attend to your lessons. To-day 
 you read about Horatius Coccles." 
 
 But I have wandered away from Mrs. Cubbins's 
 doorstep, where Anne and I were sitting on a cer- 
 tain summer afternoon. Prom time to time we 
 looked away from the gray sea, streaked with spray, 
 that we saw dimly rolling under the mist, into the 
 great kitchen, where the strong clear light of the fire 
 was reflected from rows of pewter platters, and from 
 the oaken buffet and settles and the well-scrubbed 
 dresser. The floor was strewn with glittering sea- 
 sand: the baby's frock was no whiter; it touched 
 
 193 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the floor as Mary sat in a rush-bottomed rocking- 
 chair, hushing it to sleep. The little creature an- 
 swered with a drowsy murmur, and the spinning- 
 wheel hummed under Mrs. Cubbins's busy hands. 
 Mary, baby, and spinning-wheel droned together, 
 and without the waters moaned; Mrs. Cubbins's 
 large gray eyes had a dreamy, hazy look that must 
 have been caught from the sea. 
 
 Tom Cubbins came whistling round the corner 
 from the stable, with a basket in his hand, which he 
 set down before us. 
 
 " I thought you 'd maybe like to play with our 
 cat and her kittens," said he, ' ' so I 've brought 'em 
 up to the house. Puss keeps her kittens in the 
 stable, and she don't allow herself time to come up 
 to the kitchen for food, she 's so anxious about 'em. 
 Sometimes I steal some of the fairies' milk off the 
 hearth for her, and I don't believe they miss it." 
 
 What did it mean ? There they lay, old puss 
 and one, two, three kittens, and not one of them 
 could it be possible ? yes, it was certainly so 
 not one of them had a tail ! 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 " Tom" said I, indignantly, " this is a great deal 
 worse than laughing at the fairies, I had no idea 
 you were so wicked ! How could you do so ? " 
 
 " Do what ? " said Tom, looking astonished. 
 
 " Don't pretend you did n't" said I, " don't deny 
 it. How could you cut off all those dear little tails? 
 What did you want them for ? " 
 
 Tom burst out laughing. " Our Manx-cats have 
 no tails," said he. "I forgot you did n't know it." 
 
 Here was an interesting fact. Anne and I selected 
 the two prettiest kittens to nurse, and examined them 
 attentively. 
 
 "Puss looks sorry," said Anne, "because she can't 
 lend the kittens a tail to play with." 
 
 And indeed the whole family had a resigned look, 
 as though they were trying to submit to the loss of 
 their natural playthings. 
 
 " Four cats, instead of two, must have walked into 
 the ark," I mused, as I slowly stroked my kitten, 
 each stroke coming to an abrupt and unnatural ter- 
 mination, " two with their tails straight up in the 
 air, and two of this kind, that did n't get finished off." 
 
 195 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " I added, looking up to 
 Tom, who was gazing eagerly down the road. 
 
 " Halloo, mother," he cried without answering me, 
 " here is Master Fleetwood coming, I do believe. I 
 see the post-chaise. Got his room ready ? " 
 
 " But about the cats' tails ? " I urged, catching 
 him round the leg, as he was rushing away to meet 
 the chaise. 
 
 Cats' tails?" he repeated. " 0, I don't know, 
 never asked, never heard." Then, taking pity on my 
 anxious face, he added hurriedly, " Ask him when he 
 comes, ask Master Fleetwood, he has lived here all 
 his life, and he knows everything besides ; he '11 tell 
 you." 
 
 And off he went at full speed. 
 
 Anne and I settled ourselves to take a good stare 
 at this approaching prodigy, Master Fleetwood, who 
 knew everything ; but we were deprived of the pleas- 
 ure by Mary, who, having disposed of the baby, sud- 
 denly appeared on the threshold of the door, and 
 ordered us into the house. 
 
 " And you ought to be ashamed," said she, as she 
 
 196 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 propelled us vigorously up-stairs before her, " to sit 
 there blocking up the doorway when a stranger is 
 coming, Master Fleetwood too, such a nice boy 
 Mrs. Cubbins says he is, and his grandfather is 
 Deemster of the island, besides." 
 
 As we crossed the staircase window, on our way to 
 our rooms, we had a glimpse of Master Fleetwood 
 taking a flying leap from a post-chaise which was just 
 drawing up at the front gate, and of Mrs. Cub- 
 bins, with fluttering cap-strings, running to meet 
 him. 
 
 Anne and I agreed that we would get acquainted 
 with him as soon as possible, that we might ask the 
 great question about the Manx-cats' tails. 
 
 " Not that I believe he knows everything, as Tom 
 says," I observed to Anne ; ' ' how can he, when his 
 grandfather is only a teamster ? " 
 
 " The Teamster of the island, she said" answered 
 Anne. " So I suppose he gets all the work and all 
 the wages." 
 
 Unluckily we did not find it very easy to get ac- 
 quainted with Master Fleetwood, a long-armed, 
 
 197 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 long-legged youth, in our eyes a man, who spent all 
 his days in out-door amusements, and was never in 
 the house, save at meal-times, which he attended with 
 a punctuality that won Mary's heart ; she was never 
 weary of holding him up as an example to us, careless 
 little things who never were ready for dinner. 
 
 " Why can't you come in when you smell the din- 
 ner, as Master Fleetwood does?'" she would say, 
 scrubbing our faces and hands with might and main, 
 and keeping one eye on the clock, which was on the 
 stroke of dinner-time. " I declare to Moses, I can't 
 get off this pigsty mud, 0, what children ! " 
 
 When Mary was very much put out with us, she 
 always " declared " it to somebody. It was not al- 
 ways " to Moses " ; she often ' ' declared to Jacob " 
 or " Jerusalem " or " Abraham/' but she never did 
 it unless we were really too trying. 
 
 " But we did n't smell the dinner/' I answered, 
 as well as I could, with my mouth full of suds ; " we 
 only smelt the pigsty." 
 
 "I should think so, indeed," said Mary, indignantly. 
 " Well, when the big hog has eat up Miss Anne, 
 
 198 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 you '11 wish you 'd been good children, and come in 
 regular to your breakfasses and dinners, instead of 
 making me hunt the very shoes off my feet before 
 I 'd find you ; I declare to Samson, you will ! " 
 
 Little Anne ventured to steal a respectful look at 
 Mary's feet, which were, however, cased in strong 
 leather shoes, having what she called " a sixpence 
 worth of squeak in 'em"; but indeed Mary might 
 well be vexed with us. After a long search she had 
 found us, just before dinner, at the back of the pig- 
 sty, I holding Anne by the legs, while she hung over 
 the fence, almost within reach of the hog's snout, and 
 fed that interesting animal with clover. 
 
 Master Meetwood's appetite at table inspired us 
 with great respect; we used to forget to eat ourselves, 
 and let the bread and milk drip out of our spoons 
 upon our bibs, while we watched him devouring 
 boiled beef, stewed cow-heel, bubble-and-squeak 
 (cabbage and pork, cooked together), and other 
 farmer's delicacies, which he seasoned with so much 
 mustard and horse-radish as made us study his face 
 curiously. But though he sometimes turned very 
 
 199 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 red, and tears would rush suddenly from his eyes, he 
 never allowed himself to cool his burning mouth 
 with water. 
 
 At last, on a certain very rainy day, Master Fleet- 
 wood condescended to join us in the back attic, where 
 we had been sent to play, among our empty trunks 
 and boxes that had been put there after the unpack- 
 ing. I was keeping school for Anne, teaching her 
 to count and " add up " by means of certain rows 
 of brass-headed nails which adorned my father's 
 travelling trunk. I had printed for her benefit Ee- 
 wards of Merit on the backs of old letters ; these 
 were 
 
 and I blended amusement with instruction, for after 
 every effort in mathematics I jumped little Anne off 
 the trunk as a reward, and in strict accordance with 
 her merits. If she had been " Perfect," she was en- 
 titled to six jumps; if "Good," to four; if ," Pretty 
 Good," to two; and if "Bad," which very seldom 
 
 200 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 happened, to one jump, but it was a splendid jump, 
 by way of soothing her wounded feelings. 
 
 Master Fleetwood thought this an excellent play, 
 and I remember we soon lost our awe of him. We 
 literally jumped into his acquaintance. He amused 
 himself by giving us, in turn, the most superb flying 
 leaps from the top of the trunk that we had ever en- 
 joyed in our lives. We whizzed through the air like 
 flashes of lightning, and he gave us such an impetus 
 that if it had not been for the walls of the attic, I 
 thought we might have soared away, like birds. But 
 Master Fleetwood tired at last of this violent exer- 
 cise, and flung himself down to rest on Mary's blue 
 wooden box, wiping his face on a handkerchief rather 
 the worse for wear. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said I, in some concern, " your face 
 is as red as it was yesterday, when you ate so much 
 fresh mustard." 
 
 By this time we were so familiar with him that we 
 allowed him to take us one on each knee, as he sat 
 recovering his breath on the box, and I felt bold 
 enough to propound my great question. 
 
 201 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " Master Fleetwood," said I, "would you be so 
 very kind as to tell us why the cats on the Isle of 
 Man have no tails ? " 
 
 "Halloo V said he, " there 's a question that never 
 was asked in my Natural History. How on earth 
 should / know ? " Then seeing me look disap- 
 pointed, I suppose, he added, after a moment's pause, 
 " Probably it happened in the old way." 
 
 "Yes/' said I, joyfully, "probably it did. But 
 what was the old way ? " 
 
 " Well," he answered, " you 've read of such things 
 in your story-books. By the way, you 've found out, 
 since you've been here, how much the fairies and 
 such creatures have to do with everything that hap- 
 pens hereabouts on our island ? " 
 
 "0 yes," said I, eagerly, and I was going to 
 repeat several anecdotes in proof of it that I had 
 heard from Mrs. Cubbins, when Master Meetwood 
 stopped me by assuring me that he knew them all by 
 heart. 
 
 "But," said he, "in old times stranger things 
 happened than can occur now, and you may imagine 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 it was a very strange thing that made our Manx -cats 
 lose their tails, particularly when I tell you that in 
 the real old times of all they had monstrous tails, 
 not a bit like the shrivelled-up things that cats have 
 now in the place where you come from ; tails no big- 
 ger round than your curling-stick O yes, I 've seen 
 Mary brushing your hair round it many a time, and 
 heard you cry and fret about it, too. No," contin- 
 ued Master Fleetwood, warming with his subject, 
 " the Manx cats that lived once upon a time had 
 great bushy tails like foxes or gray squirrels, O, 
 they were beautiful, and all the cats admired them- 
 selves very much, and took heaps of comfort out of 
 their feathery tails, till one of their royal family took 
 it into her silly head to to " Master Fleetwood 
 seemed to be trying to remember the particulars 
 "yes, that was it, she took it into her head to fall 
 in love with a prince, a man-prince with two legs, 
 instead of a cat-prince with four, whom her papa 
 wanted her to marry. No cat was ever prouder of a 
 tail than she was of hers. It was snow-white, like 
 herself, you know in your story-books the high- 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 toned cats are always fair-complected, as Mary says, 
 and it curled gracefully at the tip. When she was 
 in a haughty mood, she used to let it drag after her, 
 on the ground, like a train. When she felt coquet- 
 tish, she used to catch it up from the ground, and 
 carry it under her forepaw, so that she could cast 
 down her eyes and play with the feathery tip; and 
 when she wanted to take a walk, she would tie it up 
 against her waist with her blue sash, so as to be out 
 of the way." 
 
 Here Master Eleetwood paused, apparently to re- 
 call what came next, and I took the opportunity of 
 shutting my eyes, and making a picture to myself of 
 the cat, moving lightly along the dark wood-paths, 
 appearing and disappearing among the bushes like a 
 little wreath of cloud or mist ; perhaps curling her- 
 self up for a nap, when she grew tired, like a big 
 snow-ball just fallen upon the green grass. 
 
 " But what was her name ? " asked Anne. 
 
 " Her name," answered Tom, considering, ff was 
 Moi-meme, the princess Moi-meme, for, you see, she 
 was one of the most selfish little beasts that ever 
 
 204 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 lived. She never could count further than num- 
 ber one. Till she met the prince, and fell in love, 
 she cared for nobody in the world but her own 
 precious self ; she admired herself so much that she 
 really pitied people who had n't a chance to wait 
 upon her and be her servants ; she looked at herself 
 all day in the glass, and dreamed about herself all 
 night. Even in church, when the clergyman was 
 preaching, she was always thinking of herself, and so 
 she never remembered the text." 
 
 " How was her name spelled ? " I inquired. " I 
 don't remember seeing it at the end of my spelling- 
 book; that is where we look when we want new 
 names for our dolls, or when we play ' ladies ' ; the 
 man that wrote the spelling-book . put two pages of 
 proper names there, and it was real good of him too, 
 was n't it, Anne ? Some of the names are perfectly 
 splendid." 
 
 " 0, never mind the spelling ! " said Master Fleet- 
 wood. "You'll never find it, it's not an English 
 name ; just get the pronunciation, that 's all you want, 
 Meaw-meme or Miau-meme, that's about it, and 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 a very good name for her it was ; it sounded just like 
 her, too, for when she was crosser than usual, and 
 that was almost always, she just miaued and miaued, 
 and spit and yelled, till everybody was tired of her. 
 At the time she first saw the prince, she was not at 
 home ; her papa, the old king, had got so weary of 
 her selfish ways that he sent her to stop with a 
 couple of old parties, very wise and excellent old 
 souls they were, too, and the princess Miau-meme 
 used to call them uncle and aunt, Uncle Wizard 
 and Aunt Witch, those were their names. They had 
 a great deal of patience with her, and so had her 
 papa, because she had no mother ; the queen died be- 
 fore the poor princess had got her eyes open, and so 
 she never had been well trained, you see, spanked, 
 and had her ears boxed, and that kind of thing. 
 Mothers," continued Master Meetwood, looking seri- 
 ously first at Anne arid then at me, and shaking his 
 forefinger at us slowly, " mothers are things that 
 we can't any of us very well do without, they are our 
 best friends, don't you know, first chop, A 1, tip- 
 top sawyers, and that, and they get the upper hands of 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 us when we 're small, and they keep it up, whipping 
 us, and putting us to bed without our supper, and so 
 forth, and so on, till we get used to being good, and 
 it comes as easy as winkin'. I don't mind saying/' 
 Master Meetwood continued magnanimously, " that I 
 was a troublesome lot when I was a small chap like 
 you, but my mother never spoiled me by sparing the 
 rod, and now you see what a jolly good fellow I 've 
 turned out ! So take your punishments without 
 making any wry faces, you little shavers, and you '11 
 come out all right. Well, I believe it's going to 
 clear up by noon, and so I must hurry on with my 
 story, for I can't stop in this beastly house all day, 
 if I can help it. So, as I was saying, this disagree- 
 able princess Miau-meme was leading Aunt Witch 
 and Uncle Wizard the very deuce of a life with her 
 tempers and selfishness ; and one rainy day, in partic- 
 ular, she 'd been worse than usual, stopping at 
 home, for you know cats hate water, and cutting up 
 high jinks. Of course she began by licking up all 
 the cream in the pantry that poor Aunt Witch had 
 put by for her tea, and then she set to work to 
 207 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 catch a mouse. That was all very right for a cat, you 
 know, and it was one of the things she was taught 
 to do properly at school. Aunt Witch saw her 
 crouching down behind the ash-bin in the shed, 
 watching at a mouse-hole, and the good old lady 
 patted her on the head with her trembling hand, and 
 praised her for being useful. ' Now is n't it better/ 
 said she, ' to sit quietly down to some pretty lady- 
 like work like that, than to be climbing trees, and 
 clattering over the roof of the house, till my poor 
 head aches fit to split like a torn-boy ' cat, I 
 mean/' said Master Fleetwood, correcting himself. 
 " Well, the princess caught a mouse at last, and 
 what do you think she did with it? Why, she 
 stuffed it into Uncle Wizard's pipe, so it would n't 
 draw, and she sat under the table and chuckled to 
 herself when she saw the poor purblind old man 
 lay his pipe down with a sigh, after trying in vain to 
 smoke it. Well/ says he to himself, ( I must get 
 my missus to clean out my pipe, and I may as well 
 put it away now, and go to work and copy off that 
 receipt for charming away warts/ for he was a Wizard, 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 you see. So he got up with a groan, for he was a 
 rheumaticky old gent ; and he got out his pen and 
 ink, and spread a sheet of paper before him. ' I '11 
 rule it, let me rule your paper for you, Uncle Wiz- 
 ard/ calls out Miau-meme, skipping out from under 
 the table. ( That 's a nice obliging girl/ says Uncle 
 Wizard, looking at her with some surprise, for she 
 was n't used to wait on him at all, being a princess ; 
 the boot was on t' other leg, you know. So she 
 took the ruler, and ruled lines all down the sheet of 
 paper with her little sharp claw, and they were as 
 nice and even as a copy-book. But lo and behold, 
 she had cut 'em clean through the paper, and when 
 Uncle Wizard took it up, the sheet fell apart into 
 twenty ribands, which fluttered down, and settled all 
 over him. But the princess was gone before Uncle 
 Wizard could turn his stiff neck to look after her 
 reproachfully, and as the rain had stopped, off she ran 
 to the brook in great glee, to hunt for white pebbles 
 on the edge of it, with which she meant to fill up the 
 sugar-bowl, after she had stolen out the lumps of 
 sugar for her own eating. 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " Well, I can't stop to tell you of her tricks ; she 
 had worked all day so hard at being naughty, that 
 she went to bed very early, all tired out. But the rain 
 and wind, that had lulled in the middle of the day, 
 came on in the evening worse than ever, and the 
 princess found she could not sleep, there was such a 
 cracking of branches, banging of shutters, and shak- 
 ing of windows. She began to feel afraid in all the 
 hullabaloo of the storm, and she called Aunt Witch, 
 in a very rough voice, to come and open her bed- 
 room door, that she might just take a look at the 
 fire for company ; her room was next the kitchen, and 
 the kitchen fireplace was in plain sight from her bed. 
 Uncle Wizard and Aunt Witch were dozing over the 
 hearth, for they did not like to go to bed in such a 
 storm, and the princess lay watching their shadows 
 on the wall where their heads seemed to nod from 
 the ceiling down, down, down, till they touched the 
 floor. She thought of a nice trick she could play 
 them ; she would pin Aunt Witch's apron to Uncle 
 Wizard's trousers, and then pinch herself to keep 
 awake till they should get up from their chairs to go 
 210 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 to their bedroom. She was just groping her way to 
 her bureau,, that she might get some pins from her 
 pin-cushion, when she was startled by hearing a 
 human voice near the house calling for help, and she 
 had hardly whisked back to her bed, before there was 
 a knocking at the door, and a voice crying, ' Open, 
 open, good people, and let me in out of the storm.' 
 Uncle Wizard was deaf, to be sure, but he was so 
 kind-hearted that he could always hear a voice in 
 distress. He was opening the door in a moment, in 
 spite of his rheumatism, and in rushed not only such 
 a blast of wind, but such a handsome young prince, 
 soaking wet, to be sure, yet his cheeks glowed, and his 
 eyes shone through the water that dripped from his 
 lovely curling hair. Aunt Witch heaped more wood 
 on the fire, and the princess could see him well, as he 
 knelt down in the light of the blaze, after throwing 
 off his cloak and hat. Little did he think that the 
 princess Miau-meme was falling deeper and deeper in 
 love with him every minute, as he drew his long light 
 curls out between his white fingers to dry them, and 
 smiled so sweetly on the old couple before him, with 
 
 211 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 such merry eyes and such shining white teeth. He 
 was all right in a short time, and the princess thought 
 she had never heard music so delightful as his voice, 
 when he related his adventures to the old folks, and 
 told them how he had lost his way in the storm, and 
 got separated from his retinue, as he was returning 
 through the woods to his father's palace." 
 
 Here a broad ray of sunshine darted into the room, 
 and Master Meetwood jumped up as suddenly as if it 
 had pierced him like a spear. " Hulloo, here 's fine 
 weather again ! " he cried, " and I must go. I '11 
 tell you the rest some other time. Just remember 
 where we left off, you know ; prince drying himself, 
 and the princess Miau-meme staring at him. A cat 
 may look upon a king " 
 
 And off he was running, but little Anne seized one 
 hand and I the other, and we begged and entreated 
 him not to go till he had finished the story. " We 
 never, never shall hear the end of it unless you tell it 
 to us now" I said, " for you know you always lie 
 by the kitchen fire on the settle, and snore all the 
 evening, and besides we go to bed so very early, and 
 212 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 perhaps we sha'n't have another lovely rainy day like 
 this 
 
 " I 'm sure I hope not," said Master Fleetwood, 
 fervently. 
 
 " And you know you never have stayed in the house 
 once when the weather was pleasant, never, only 
 that one day when you eat too much Sally Lunn, and 
 the other day when you had the brown paper and 
 vinegar on your head, because the bedpost knocked 
 against you." 
 
 Master Fleetwood was good-natured ; he hesitated. 
 " Will you tease Mrs. Cubbins to have Sally Lunn for 
 supper, if I '11 finish the story ? " he asked. 
 
 Of course we joyfully agreed to this, and as the 
 sunshine very opportunely ' ' went in" again as 
 suddenly as it had popped out, he yielded to our 
 wishes, and set himself down once more on the 
 blue box, with the sigh of a martyr. " But I shall 
 hurry up the story as fast as I can," he said, " for 
 when the sun really comes out to stay, you don't 
 catch me wasting my time in the house. Well, it 
 seems the prince was as good a fellow as ever lived, 
 
 213 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 naturally, and he 'd been to Sunday school and 
 learned about loving his neighbor as himself, and if 
 it had kept on raining I was going to tell you all 
 the kind things he did for Uncle and Aunt W., on 
 that stormy night when he took refuge in their 
 house, and all the nice speeches he made to them 
 about gratitude and hospitality, and that. Why, 
 besides getting wood and building up the fire, and 
 filling the kettle for tea, and carving the venison 
 pasty with his own hunting-knife, he insisted on 
 carrying the warming-pan for Aunt W., who was 
 trotting about with it, and talking about ' damp 
 sheets/ You see she was making up her own bed 
 for the prince, with clean linen sheets, smelling ever 
 so sweet with lavender; but when he found out it was 
 the only bed in the house, he would n't take it, but 
 just insisted on sitting up over the fire all night. 
 And Princess Miau-meme kept still as a mouse, and 
 watched him as if he had been a mouse, too, and 
 admired his good-nature and his good looks with all 
 her silly little heart. Not that she wanted to take to 
 goodness too, and try to be like him ; O no, she only 
 
 214 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 wished he would wait upon her, and speak kindly to 
 her, and smile upon her, and she said to herself, 
 f It 's just my luck to be gone to bed and out of the 
 way on this night of all others, and just like Aunt 
 Witch to be putting herself forward and getting 
 noticed in my place/ 
 
 " But at last she dropped asleep, just, too, as 
 she was wondering what made her so wide-awake, 
 and slept so soundly, that she did not hear the prince's 
 servants, who had found out where he was, knock- 
 ing him up early in the morning. To be sure, the 
 prince opened the window softly and forbade their 
 making a noise, as soon as he heard them outside ; 
 and crept out on tiptoe, shutting the door quietly 
 after him, so that the old folks might not be dis- 
 turbed. The princess was awakened at last by the 
 melancholy sound of Aunt Witch's coffee-mill, which 
 always creaked dismally when she was grinding the 
 coffee for breakfast. 
 
 " Well, after that time, the princess, with her usual 
 selfishness, gave herself up entirely to thinking about 
 the prince, and to prowling about in the woods or 
 
 215 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 about the palace, or wherever she could get a chance 
 to peep at him. And wherever she went she over- 
 heard the servitors and the cottagers and the hunts- 
 men of the prince forever talking about his goodness 
 and kindness, and how he had done this, that, and the 
 other generous thing for his people. And the prin- 
 cess began to think she should like to do something 
 for him, who was so good to every one else ; and 
 with her usual unreasonableness, she let this idea 
 take hold of her and grow and grow, till at last she 
 felt not only that she should like to do something 
 for the prince, but that she must do something for 
 him or die, and finally that it must be a something 
 that should tax the very utmost of her power to per- 
 form. 
 
 " But all this time, she did not forget her beauti- 
 ful feathery tail, and indeed it was the only thing 
 that gave her any comfort. She was never tired of 
 combing and curling it, of admiring its silvery tip, as 
 it closed itself softly over her paw, or of blowing the 
 fine white hair gently with her breath till it was fluffy 
 and round as a ball. You see she had been flattered 
 
 216 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 for her beautiful tail from the time she was a kitten, 
 just as some children are flattered for their beautiful 
 hair/' Master Meetwood added, significantly looking 
 at my elf-locks, which Mary patiently put into curl- 
 papers every night, in the hope, daily disappointed, 
 that a lovely row of ringlets would reward her for her 
 trouble. Ah, those curl-papers ! they were so tightly 
 twisted at the back of my neck that I seemed to go 
 to bed with a necklace of prickles. Just at the mo- 
 ment Master Meetwood spoke, I fear my hair was in 
 a more disreputable condition than ever, owing to the 
 dampness of the day, which must have been fatal to 
 curls, and I looked up into his face to see if he could 
 possibly be in earnest in approving of it; I should have 
 been so glad to believe this, but I had an uncomfort- 
 able feeling that he was " chaffing/' though his face 
 was perfectly sober. So I tried hard to appear as if 
 I had not considered his remark personal. " Some- 
 times," Master Meetwood continued, going on with 
 his story, " sometimes it really seemed as if Miau- 
 meme thought as much of her own beautiful tail as 
 she did of the prince. There 's the sun again ! " 
 
 217 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 And up he started. ' ' O dear, well, it seems to me 
 I never shall get through with this story, you 
 must n't mind my hurrying it along/' he added, be- 
 ginning to speak very fast, and sitting down once 
 more reluctantly. " Well, the princess got into a 
 way of hiding about in the woods, and following the 
 prince whenever he went hunting or riding horseback ; 
 she had a sort of an idea that perhaps something 
 would happen to him unexpectedly, and that she 
 might be able to assist him ; and 0, how delightful 
 it would be, she thought, if she could really do him 
 such a good turn that he must feel grateful to her, 
 and she used to shut her pretty green eyes, and fancy 
 the prince smiling at her and speaking to her so 
 gently and kindly. 
 
 11 Well, at last it was announced that the prince was 
 to have a great hawking-party, the first of the season, 
 in order to try some new falcons that had been sent 
 from England, and that his falconers had been train- 
 ing for a long time. Now," said Master Fleetwood, 
 stopping short and looking at me severely, "don't 
 you fidget so, and look as if you were going to inter- 
 sis 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 rupt me. I know what you are going to say ; you 
 are going to tell me you don't know what a hawking- 
 party is, nor what sort of creatures falcons are, and 
 all that, but I can't possibly stop to tell you." Then, 
 thinking I was about to speak, Master Fleetwood put 
 his hand over my mouth. " Hold on ! " said he, " I 
 take it all back about the hawking-party, it was a 
 *ttfy-party that was to come off, after all, and I 
 don't know why I made such a mistake, yes, a 
 hunting-party, to try a lot of new hounds; you 
 know all about that Well " 
 
 I was very indignant that Master Fleetwood should 
 take me for such an ignoramus, and as soon as I 
 could push his hand away from my mouth, I started 
 up, red as fire, exclaiming, " I know as much about 
 hawks and falcons as you do. I had n't the least 
 idea of asking you a single question about them. I 
 read all about hawking-parties long ago, in my fa- 
 ther's Strutt "* 
 
 "There, there, there," said Master Fleetwood, 
 soothingly, " that '11 do. Don't get angry ; you 
 
 * A charming book called " Strutt's Sports and Pastimes." 
 219 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 're as red as a turkey-cock. Your father's Strutt 
 indeed ! You look a great deal more like strutting 
 yourself. How should I know you were a Solomon 
 in pinafores ? Have a peppermint ? " he added po- 
 litely, producing some pink and white fragments of 
 that sweetmeat from the bottom of his pocket, mixed 
 up with a handful of tacks and ha'pennies, and a 
 common-sized piece of chalk. I was mollified, and, 
 selecting the cleanest morsel of peppermint from 
 among this assortment of treasures, which Master 
 Meetwood held out to me in his large palm, I ven- 
 tured to put the question that really had been on my 
 tongue's end for some minutes. 
 
 " I did want to know," I said, ' ' what had become 
 of the woods you are talking about so much, for there 
 is n't a tree to be seen now. When you told us there 
 was to be a hawking-party, it reminded me that I 
 had n't asked you that question." 
 
 " O, well, I can tell you that in a jiffy," said Mas- 
 ter Fleetwood. "You see, when all the fairies left 
 the island, they pulled the trees up by the roots to 
 make rafts of them to cross the water with. And now 
 
 220 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 I '11 finish the story ; there was a hawking-party after 
 all, I was right at first, and of course the poor 
 little pussy -princess was scampering about the county, 
 here and there and everywhere, climbing up trees and 
 hiding behind rocks, following the prince as he gal- 
 loped along, turning and twisting this way and that, 
 with his eyes on the clouds, watching the hawks and 
 herons that were working up against them, higher 
 and higher, like so many corkscrews. The truth is, 
 she was dreadfully alarmed for the prince, who seemed 
 after a while to lose his head entirely, in the excite- 
 ment of the chase, and when he got into the open 
 country he spurred his horse like mad over rocks 
 and stones, so that she could follow his course by the 
 trail of sparks which the iron hoofs struck out at 
 every bound. None of his attendants could keep up 
 with him but the head huntsman, who had known 
 him from a child, and who was perfectly devoted to 
 him ; and though both he and his horse were ready to 
 drop from fatigue, they managed just to keep the 
 reckless prince in sight. 
 
 ( ' Now came the grand catastrophe," said Master 
 
 221 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Fleetwood, drawing in his breath, and clenching his 
 hands, while we held our breath in excitement. 
 " Just as the prince was passing a young tree, in 
 whose branches, as it happened, poor Miau-meme was 
 hiding herself, his horse paused suddenly, and a long 
 slender bough struck the poor prince right across 
 both eyes, which were wide open, staring straight up 
 into the sky. He was thrown backward violently to 
 the ground, and his horse, with one rush, crashed into 
 the underbrush, and vanished like a flash of light- 
 ning. 
 
 " The prince must have felt as if he had been 
 struck by lightning, the accident was so Hurrah! 
 how jolly \" For the attic was suddenly illuminated 
 by a flood of sunshine, and unmistakable blue sky 
 was visible through the small leaded window-panes. 
 Master Fleetwood shuffled his feet impatiently. 
 "Lucky I'm almost done/' said he. "Well, 
 the prince was n't killed, after all ; he must have 
 had an awful thick skull; his old falconer had 
 him up in his arms in a twinkling, and he had salts 
 and cologne and things in his pocket to bring him to. 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 I can't stop to go through the particulars,, only at last 
 he was leaning his head against a juniper bush as 
 good as new, all but his eyes, only he had no more 
 strength than a baby, 0, they were in a terrible way, 
 all bloodshot, and he could n't open them, and they 
 felt as if a hot poker had been laid across them. A 
 cold wind was blowing right in the prince's face, and 
 it cut his poor eyes like a sharp knife; the poor fel- 
 low groaned, and tried to cover them with his hands, 
 but they dropped down limp, he was so weak. 
 
 " ' Oh ! oh ! oh ! ' cried the old falconer, f I must bind 
 up his poor eyes, or this cold wind will put them out 
 entirely before I can get him home. dear, dear ! 
 your Eoyal Highness, where is your handkerchief? 
 where is your sash ? ' But the prince's handkerchief 
 had blown away long ago, and he had pulled off his 
 sash and thrown it to a poor half-naked man shaking 
 with rheumatism, who made haste to crouch by the 
 side of the road as the prince whirled past him full 
 gallop, - and the poor falconer could find absolutely 
 nothing wherewith he could bind up his dear master's 
 eyes. Of course nobody but princes and such like 
 
 223 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 had handkerchiefs in those days, even the fairies 
 used white rose-petals instead, and the falconer had 
 only one best go-to-church yellow-silk handkerchief, 
 with white spots, and that was safe in his trunk 
 at home. '0 Winastraw/ cried he, after he had 
 looked in vain for something to tie round his mas- 
 ter's eyes, ' cushla ma chree, Savourneen Deelish, 
 och hone, mavourneen, Eileen Ogg, O, what shall I 
 do ? This wind will destroy his sight forever/ And 
 while he was wailing and pulling out his gray hair 
 by hands full, what do you think the princess was 
 about ? She was actually unscrewing her tail, her 
 beautiful, beloved, adored, precious tail, that she 
 might offer it to the prince as a bandage for his eyes ! 
 You should have heard the cry of joy the old falconer 
 gave, when she thrust it into his hand with one little 
 white paw, while with the other she hid her face, for 
 the tears would come into her pretty green eyes after 
 such a dreadful sacrifice as she had made. ' the 
 soft, warm bandage!' murmured the prince, as the 
 falconer made haste to bind poor Miau-meme's gift 
 over his eyes. f O, how light, O, how delicate, how 
 
 224 
 
THE ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 comforting ! my poor eyes are eased already/ But he 
 was too weak to ask questions, or take much notice ; 
 he could not even see poor Miau-meme, who, after all, 
 sacrificed herself to the prince, and never received in 
 return one of those soft words, kind looks, or bright 
 smiles that she had so longed for." 
 
 Here Master Eleetwood got up, stretched himself, 
 and walked to the door, but he came back to say ab- 
 ruptly, " O, I forgot the point of the story, the 
 powers above or below, or the fairies, or what you 
 will, took notice of the princess Miau-meme's great 
 sacrifice, and ever since that time the Manx-cats have 
 been tailless, as she was all the rest of her life, just in 
 memory of her." 
 
 Master Fleetwood went whistling down stairs, 
 three steps at a time, and left us to ponder over the 
 point of the story, as he called it ; but we never could 
 decide whether the powers above or the fairies meant 
 to punish or reward poor Miau-meme, by docking the 
 tails of her descendants forever. 
 
VII. 
 
 "YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH!" 
 
 summer my father took country lodgings 
 for his family at a market-gardener's some 
 three miles from town. This gardener not only 
 raised vegetables and flowers, but delicious fruit of 
 all kinds, from early strawberries to late pears. He 
 was always at work in his garden, and he was standing 
 at the gate, spade in hand, when the carriage which 
 
 brought us from M turned into his avenue. 
 
 We children crowded to the window to look at him, 
 on papa's saying, "There is our landlord/' We 
 thought he looked very cross, and no wonder ; I 
 suppose he would rather have seen a flock of black- 
 birds settling in his best cherry-tree, than three little 
 girls coming to play all summer in his garden, with 
 their little fingers and thumbs all ready to pick his 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH! 
 
 fruit and flowers. Before mamma had taken her 
 bonnet off in her new lodgings, the poor gardener was 
 knocking at her door, respectfully asking permission 
 " to have a word with the missis/' After scratching 
 his head and clearing his throat a good deal, and 
 looking down carefully on the three little heads that 
 hardly reached above his knees, for we little ones 
 came up shyly to make acquaintance with the new 
 landlord, he managed to say that he " thought the 
 young ladies was bigger nor what they was," when he 
 agreed to let his lodgings to "the master." He 
 thought "we was ladies growed," a very natural mis- 
 take, as very small children are spoken of in England 
 as young ladies and gentlemen, and papa, always in a 
 hurry, had probably not gone into particulars about 
 our ages. Now, seeing that we " was just the wrong 
 size, neither ladies growed, nor hinfants in harms," 
 what was to be done about his garden ? What was 
 to prevent our picking his most valuable flowers and 
 eating his most expensive fruit ? We might be the 
 " ruination " of him, he said, though he tried to put 
 it as politely as possible by repeating, over and over 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 again,, that " children would be children, and very 
 nateral, ma'am." 
 
 "But they need not be thieves, Mr. Mason," 
 mamma answered austerely, " and I will answer for it 
 that my children sha' n't touch so much as a dan- 
 delion in your garden without leave." And seeing 
 him look incredulous, she added, " You may make a 
 charge on your bill for every currant or gooseberry 
 they steal, or any flower they steal." 
 
 " O ma'am, I should n't go for to call it stealing ; 
 just to help theirselves is the nater of little uns," 
 said the poor gardener in great confusion, and look- 
 ing down with a softened eye on little Anne, who, sit- 
 ting on the carpet, had spied a spot of mud on his 
 trousers, and was trying to rub it out with her little 
 forefinger, which she first put into her mouth and 
 then applied vigorously to the spot with about one- 
 fly-power. 
 
 In short, mamma promised for us that we would 
 do no mischief in Mr. Mason's garden, that we would 
 never even pick as much as a green leaf without permis- 
 sion. Perhaps she thought this promise was rather a 
 
'YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH!' 
 
 rash one, for I remember that she accompanied us on 
 our first walks about the garden, preaching strenuous 
 little sermons to us on the text, " You must n't touch ! " 
 And mamma's sermons were effective, for she had no 
 time to impress them upon us by means of reasoning 
 or moral suasion, and if we did not practise what 
 she preached, we got certain little whippings that 
 refreshed our memories wonderfully. Then we had 
 always been accustomed to implicit obedience, and on 
 the whole mamma had little difficulty in training us 
 to respect Mr. Mason's property. Honestly I don't 
 remember a single occasion when we disobeyed her 
 orders " not to touch," and she had reason for the 
 modest pride with which I heard her say to visitors, 
 " My children are pretty good children ; on the 
 whole as children go they do obey me as well as 
 I can expect." 
 
 But the good gardener was delighted ; he thought 
 my mother was the most wonderful woman in exist- 
 ence, and that we were the most wonderful children. 
 At first he would follow us about the garden with an 
 anxious face, but when he found he really could de- 
 
 229 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 pend on our honesty, he began to welcome our com- 
 ing with pleasure, and soon became very fond of us. 
 He told us one day that he would give us my sis- 
 ter Anne and myself little gardens of our own, if 
 we liked, gardens as big as a pocket-handkerchief. 
 Of course we "liked," and away we ran to find 
 the biggest possible handkerchief as a measure. 
 Little Anne unfolded her precious picture handker- 
 chief, " Poor Bichard's Maxims/'' printed in red, and 
 in rhyme : 
 
 " For want of a nail the shoe was lost ; 
 For want of a shoe the horse was lost ; 
 For want of a horse the rider was lost." 
 
 " Many strokes fell great oaks." 
 
 " He that by the plough would thrive, 
 Himself must either hold or drive." Etc., etc. 
 
 These were all illustrated with the loveliest deep-red 
 pictures, a little blotchy, to be sure. But this 
 treasure was too small for our purpose. My hand- 
 kerchiefs were made of select pieces cut from the flaps 
 of my father's old linen shirts, and were not only small, 
 but oblong, and we wanted our gardens to be square. 
 
 230 
 
"YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH!" 
 
 Mrs. Mason, whom we found very busy with her 
 hands in dough, when we ran into the kitchen to ask 
 for her handkerchief, told us we might put our 
 hands into her pocket and pull it out for ourselves. 
 We dived deep into the pocket of her stuff petticoat, 
 and pulled out what looked to be a very snuffy rag, 
 of no particular shape or color. We popped it back 
 again into her pocket, unopened, and, hearing John 
 Cookson, papa's groom, whistling in the yard, we ran 
 out to hirtiy clamoring for his handkerchief. "'And- 
 kerchaw ! " said John, grinning from ear to ear, and 
 showing a splendid set of strong white teeth, " what 
 are you maning, you young uns ? Did you ever 
 see me with sich a harticle as a 'andkerchaw ? / 
 don't carry no sich trumpery fallals." And John 
 significantly drew his shirt-sleeve across his nose. 
 Then we ran back to the house and made our request 
 to Mary, who was " redding up " the nursery. She 
 went to the top drawer of the bureau, and produced 
 the desired article in starched cotton, nicely folded, 
 with a blue border and edged with coarse lace, but 
 even with this addition, the handkerchief did not 
 
 231 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 open out as large as one of mamma's made of linen- 
 cambric, which Mary brought us to compare in size 
 with hers. At last we luckily remembered a certain 
 very large yellow bandanna of papa's, too big for 
 his pocket, and which he wore round his neck in cold 
 weather. We told Mr. Mason this, honestly ; but he 
 was kind enough to let us take it to measure our gar- 
 dens by, which made us jump for joy, for it was a 
 full yard square. He marked these gardens off with 
 his spade, side by side ; they extended from a peony 
 bush on the right, to a flowering almond on the left, 
 just as the Garden of Eden extended from the Tigris 
 to the Euphrates ; and I don't believe the Garden of 
 Eden looked a bit more important to Adam and Eve 
 than our landed property looked to Anna and me, as 
 we stood admiring it, after Mr. Mason had gone off 
 whistling. 
 
 Now my genius for landscape-gardening came out 
 in full force ; every day my garden was laid out in a 
 new way, and little Anne imitated every change I 
 made. With sharp sticks we drew the walks ; some- 
 times they meandered, sometimes they took the form 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH!" 
 
 of a cross or a star. Of course we fenced in our gar- 
 dens, at first with chips, then with tenpenny nails, 
 rusty, however, for we pulled them out of some old 
 boards in the cow-shed, and tore our fingers so badly 
 that for a week Mary kept them bound up in rags. 
 Mrs. Mason one day gave me some old skewers ; she 
 did it to get rid of us, for she was perched on the top 
 of a very high step-ladder in the pantry, rummaging 
 the upper shelf, and we probably teased her by walk- 
 ing our dolls, supposed to be angels, up and down the 
 steps, which we called Jacob's ladder. We ran to our 
 gardens with the skewers, and made of them some 
 magnificent gateways, interspersed among the ten- 
 penny nails. Then we determined to have a chain- 
 and-post fence, such as we had seen at Denham 
 Park ; by dint of long and patient teasing, not only 
 of mamma and Mary, but of Betty the cook, Mrs. 
 Mason, and her maid Jane, and even of "old granny" 
 Mason, whom we almost feared to approach because 
 she wore an old black-silk hood like a pillow-case 
 instead of a cap, we made a collection of darning- 
 needles. These we threaded upon two long needlefuls 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 of granny's blue yarn,, and set them round our gardens 
 for posts, the yarn which connected them being the 
 chain. Luckily it was light, for the posts were few 
 and far between. 
 
 At first we made our gardens gay with wild-flow- 
 ers, and they fairly dazzled our eyes with their splen- 
 dor when they were stuck full of yellow gorse and 
 dandelions. But as these withered in a day, in spite 
 of all our watering, and we kept our gardens perfect 
 Sloughs of Despond for their sakes, we soon got 
 tired of real flowers, and made beautiful ones our- 
 selves from snippings of our sashes and bits of the red 
 flannel that granny used for rheumatism. We thrust 
 pins through our flowers for branches, and then 
 stuck the pins in circles round bits of stick that 
 served us for shrubbery. We worked as hard, in 
 forming elegant groups of this shrubbery, as did the 
 poor gentleman who laid out Studleigh Park, and who 
 regularly climbed to his observatory on the top of a 
 hill, to see the effect of every new tree he planted. 
 Mr. Mason, too, was planting trees, valuable young 
 fruit-trees, which he protected by little wooden 
 
 234 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH! 
 
 frames, and we too had our slips of plum and cherry 
 trees carefully planted through the centre of empty 
 spools, which we set out in regular rows in what we 
 considered to be the sunniest corner of our gardens. 
 
 One day we had two valuable presents, a Noah's 
 Ark from papa, and a handful of small unsalable 
 radishes from Mr. Mason. Behold us then busy in 
 turning our gardens into wildernesses ; we threw away 
 our ever-flowering shrubbery, even our fruit-trees, and 
 rubbed out our walks with the toes of our shoes. 
 What a trouble it was to lay our gardens down to 
 grass ! We could only carefully put together, like a 
 dissected map, the bits of turf that we were able to 
 scratch up with our little hands, and stamp it down 
 with all the strength of our stout little feet. Then we 
 made a dark forest on one side of our gardens with 
 twigs of juniper, in which the wild beasts of the ark 
 roared and ramped. On the other side, the radishes 
 were planted in squads, like soldiers, and very mar- 
 tial they looked in their red coats, with tufts of tall 
 green feathers in their helmets. Each had a needle 
 stuck through him for a gun, and they were supposed 
 
 235 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 to be defending the settlers on the edge of the wilder- 
 ness from the wild beasts. These settlers had just 
 come out of the ark, and had set up housekeeping for 
 themselves, in tents made of half egg-shells, over 
 the top of which they gazed fixedly at the lions and 
 tigers. 
 
 We enjoyed this tableau so much, that we amused 
 ourselves by inventing others. The grass in our 
 gardens was supposed to be an ocean, in the midst of 
 which floated the ark ; by that time it had fortu- 
 nately lost its cover, so that Mmes. Shem, Ham, and 
 Japhet could conveniently look down from the top 
 and admire the bravery of their husbands, boldly 
 navigating the ark by means of slate-pencils (oars) 
 on the deck below. The radishes and the wild beasts 
 lay scattered about on their sides, drowned, and the 
 dove and the raven were hopefully in view, astride 
 over a couple of tree-tops in the forest. Another 
 time we turned Noah into Christopher Columbus; we 
 had to nail him with a tack to the top of the ark, 
 now a Spanish galleon, as we found it difficult to keep 
 his face turned toward the New World, the juniper 
 
"YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH! 
 
 forest, wherein the resuscitated radishes figured as red 
 Indians, with feathers on their heads. 
 
 Our gardens were everything by turns, and nothing 
 long. We had a boarding-school there for our dolls ; 
 we came there as travellers ourselves. Our gardens 
 bore in turn the names of all the countries of Europe 
 that we could spell out on the map. If they were 
 Turkey, we gobbled, gobbled, to each other by way of 
 speaking the language; if Switzerland, we made a hiss- 
 ing with our mouths that sounded like Swiss, Swiss ; 
 if France, we repeated over and over, We, we, we ; 
 if Hungary, we made a sound of chewing with our 
 jaws. In giving us those small squares of ground, 
 good Mr. Mason had done the best possible thing for 
 his own garden as far as we were concerned ; we were 
 so absorbed in them that we forgot everything else. 
 The gardener and his men were busy at work all 
 about us every day: they picked fruit for market, 
 and gathered flowers for what they called " cottage- 
 bouquets," because they were composed of simple 
 garden-flowers ; but we took no notice of them. I 
 remember the "red-haired currant-bushes," as we 
 
 237 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 called them, thickly covered with clusters of fruit 
 hanging like short curls, and the brown rows of 
 jargonelle pears suspended from slender branches 
 trained along the garden walls, like the bells in the 
 coffee-room of the " Manchester Arms." You see, 
 objects were doubly interesting to me, because they 
 always put me in mind of something different from 
 themselves. And I remember seeing tall Mr. Mason 
 in the greenhouse, with my little sister Lucretia 
 perched, light as a butterfly, on his shoulder. From 
 this elevation she would peep at us through the vine- 
 branches trained along the low glass roof, her clean 
 pinafore gleaming white among the leaves, and the 
 vine-tendrils clustering about her face, and twisting 
 themselves round her own short curls. 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Mason possessed an 
 apple-tree of so rare and peculiar a kind that he had 
 thought it worthy of a conspicuous place in his gar- 
 den, and he had therefore set it out in the little grass- 
 plot, right in front of the house, and in full view of 
 the windows. This tree was young, and was bearing 
 this summer for the first time. It was ornamented 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH! 
 
 with a few clusters of pink and white blossoms, when 
 we first took possession of our lodgings, and we soon 
 learned to feel a great sympathy with Mr. Mason 
 when we saw him walking about the little tree, with 
 his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth, 
 wondering what sort of apples would grow in place of 
 those blossoms, whose white petals would drift slowly 
 down upon his nose when he stopped to survey them. 
 After they were all blown away, half a dozen little 
 green knobs appeared in their places. "We passed the 
 tree often on our way to and from the house, and 
 when we saw Mr. Mason standing under it, scrutiniz- 
 ing those little knobs, we used to run and take him by 
 the hand and stare up at them too, wrinkling the tops 
 of our little noses, and shading our eyes from the sun, 
 just as he did. He watched those baby apples, so we 
 thought, as closely as mamma watched our baby, and 
 when a tinge of red appeared in their cheeks, he 
 showed as much pleasure as mamma did when our 
 poor pale baby began to get a little color. We lis- 
 tened respectfully when Mr. Mason read to us the 
 name of the tree, which was printed in Latin on a slip 
 
 239 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 of wood and tied to a convenient bough, and we 
 wondered, in sympathy with him, what its fruit would 
 be like when it was ripe. Little Anne only hoped 
 it would be " nice" while / pictured the apples to 
 myself as gorgeously beautiful as new red morocco 
 balls with orange stripes. 
 
 Well, the days and the weeks of that beautiful 
 summer slipped away, and the different fruits in Mr. 
 Mason's garden ripened, came to perfection, and 
 passed away in turn j mamma was an excellent cus- 
 tomer, buying as much of it for us as she thought we 
 ought to eat. Cherries, strawberries, currants, rasp- 
 berries, how beautiful they looked, red and white, 
 heaped up in mamma's cut-glass bowls! yet we 
 thought no fruit in the garden half as handsome as 
 the apples ripening on the little tree in the middle 
 of the grass-plot. They turned out to be summer 
 apples of the largest size, swelling out suddenly in the 
 July heat, almost as rapidly as soap-bubbles, into 
 great globes of color, really not so much unlike our 
 morocco balls, after all ! And one day, after smelling 
 at them as carefully as if they were so many nosegays, 
 
 240 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH! 
 
 and pinching them very gently with his thumb and 
 finger, Mr. Mason pronounced them to be ripe, and 
 declared he should soon pick them. 
 
 Now it happened that the largest, reddest, roundest, 
 yellowest apple of all hung nearly within our reach, 
 at the end of a long slender branch that had been 
 growing downwards all summer under its weight. 
 When my sister Anne saw Mr. Mason examining the 
 fruit on the little tree, she wished to touch this apple 
 for herself, that she might see whether it was ripe ; 
 she thought Mr. Mason would value her opinion on 
 the subject. So, with great labor, I held her up, 
 wavering in the air, while she laid her small finger 
 solemnly on the rosy apple, bobbing above her head. 
 As soon as she found herself safe on the ground again, 
 she ran to Mr. Mason and pronounced her verdict, 
 " yipe ! no, I mean wipe" for she was often cor- 
 rected for her manner of pronouncing the letter U. 
 "Ah! ah! ah! (R!) said the gardener, shaking his 
 finger at her playfully, though I don't think she ap- 
 preciated the pun, "but you shouldn't touch, you 
 know, must n't touch the apple again." " No, in- 
 
 241 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 deed/' cried Mary, hurrying up to see what we were 
 about, " no, Miss Anne, you must n't touch/' 
 Mamma now appeared at the parlor window r , and, 
 seeing us all together on the grass-plot, she was, as 
 usual, afraid that something was wrong. " What 's 
 the matter, Mary ? " cried she ; " have the children 
 done anything naughty? " She was apt to think that 
 we either had been naughty, were naughty, or were 
 going to be naughty. " No, ma'am/' said Mary, in 
 her shrill treble, ' ' I was only telling Miss Anne she 
 must n't touch." " No, no, children, don't touch, be 
 sure you don't touch ! " said mamma, speaking on 
 general principles. 
 
 I dare say you think Mr. Mason was very stingy 
 about his apples, but the truth was, he meant to send 
 
 them to a horticultural show in M , as they were 
 
 of a new and rare variety. Now, when he went to 
 gather them, he found to his surprise the very apple 
 on which little Anne had laid her finger, the hand- 
 somest of the half-dozen that grew on the tree, still 
 hanging from the end of the branch, but with a piece 
 bitten out of one side. Mr. Mason took it into the 
 
YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH!' 
 
 house and showed my mother the marks of little 
 teeth upon it. Mamma was very much concerned. 
 " Little Eve has bitten the apple/' the gardener said, 
 laughing ; in fact he laughed and chuckled to himself 
 about it so much that mamma could not under- 
 stand it, yet she was very glad that he did not seem 
 as vexed and sorry as she had expected, for she knew 
 the value he set on his rare fruit. 
 
 " But which of the children did it ? " asked she. 
 " I must punish the little thing severely, and I am 
 more grieved than I can tell, to think that one of my 
 children should have been so very, very naughty." 
 
 " Now, missus/' said the gardener, still laughing, 
 " don't take it to heart, there was nothing naughty 
 about it. I won't tell you who did it, unless you 
 promise me you won't punish the little gal" 
 
 " You are very kind to make light of the matter," 
 said mamma, gravely, "but the little girl who bit 
 your apple did a very wicked thing, and I can't 
 promise to overlook it." 
 
 Just then we came running into the room, Anne 
 and I, freshly dressed, washed, and curled for the 
 
 243 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 afternoon by careful Mary, and we both spied at once 
 the bitten apple in Mr. Mason's hand. 
 
 " Little girls who steal will also tell lies, I know," 
 said mamma, taking each of us by the hand and mak- 
 ing us stand in front of her, so that she could study 
 our faces. We looked up wonderingly, and we 
 caught the reflection of ourselves, two little fairies in 
 white, peeping at us out of mamma's beautiful brown 
 eyes, which were bent on us with severity. But I 
 am sure she saw no guilt in our two astonished 
 faces. "Do you see the apple in Mr. Mason's 
 hand ? " said mamma, sternly. " One of you little 
 girls bit that piece out of it ; I hope you won't add 
 to your fault by telling a lie about it." And she looked 
 first at me and then at Anne, baffled by our apparent 
 innocence. " Which of you bit that apple ? " 
 
 " O, / did," answered little Anne simply, as if re- 
 lieved at having a question she could understand. "I 
 did it yesterday afternoon just before tea. I don't 
 want to tell a lie, mamma. I took the little black 
 footstool, and I could reach the apple beautifully, and 
 I bit out as big a piece as I could, and it tasted ever 
 
 244 
 
YOU MUST N'T TOUCH! 
 
 so nice." And she continued to look in mamma's 
 face as if she could not get over her surprise at seeing 
 it so sober. 
 
 Mamma was equally surprised at Anne's manner 
 and way of speaking ; the dear child showed no sense 
 of guilt or shame. 
 
 "Don't you know that you have been a very 
 naughty, disobedient girl ? " said she. " Don't you 
 remember how often I have told you not to touch 
 those apples, over and over again ? " 
 
 " 0, but, mamma," cried Anne, eagerly, as if a new 
 light had broken in upon her, " did you really think 
 I touched ? Are you angry because you thought I 
 touched? Well, I didn't touch, I did remember 
 what you said. When I stood on the footstool, I 
 just clasped my hands together behind my back, so 
 that I should be sure not to touch, and I held 'em 
 so all the time, though it did make me tumble off 
 the stool." And she showed a black and blue spot on 
 her soft white arm, and looked up into mamma's face 
 with the most innocent eyes in the world. 
 
 " It 's just so, missus, just as she tells it," said Mr. 
 
 245 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Mason, coming forward. " I seen her do it. I seen 
 her bite the apple in the cutest way, with her two 
 little hands at the back of her pinafore. She did n't 
 go for to do one mite of wrong, I do assure you ; 
 and it was seein' her a-tiptoe atop of that stool ! 
 and herself patiently trying to stick her teeth in the 
 apple, which knocked against her little nose like a 
 pendulum a-s winging, I say it was that made me 
 laugh so, missus, just now, a-thinking of it, and you 
 must not scold her a bit/'' And Mr. Mason laughed 
 again as he drew this little picture. 
 
 Anne laughed too. "O mamma," said she, "I 
 was so afraid of knocking the apple off, when it bobbed 
 about so. Because if I had, if it had tumbled on 
 the ground, I should not have got one single taste of 
 it, for you know you told us we must n't touch, so 
 I could n't have picked it up." 
 
 We were still standing at mamma's knee, and as 
 she looked down into Anne's eager little face, I no- 
 ticed that the tiny fairies in her eyes seemed to be 
 suddenly caught in a shower. There were certainly 
 drops of water in mamma's eyes, but I never sus- 
 
"YOU MUST N'T TOUCH! 
 
 pected they were tears, or that grown-up people ever 
 cried. Why, even children never cried for nothing, 
 and nobody had been scolding mamma, or telling 
 her " not to touch." I saw her stoop, and kiss 
 tenderly the black and blue spot on Anne's little 
 round arm, without finding any fault with the dear 
 child, after all ; and then I suppose she went quietly 
 away, for I only remember as the conclusion of the 
 matter, a certain delightful journey on horseback that 
 my sister and I performed sitting one on each of 
 Mr. Mason's corduroy knees. On these hard trot- 
 ting horses we made several journeys to London and 
 back again with such speed as almost to take away 
 our breath, and we should have tumbled off our slip- 
 pery side-saddle, if Mr. Mason had not held us firmly 
 in his strong arms. 
 
 There was a delightful moment on every return trip 
 from London, when we met at full gallop, like knights 
 in a tournament, and when Mr. Mason did his best to 
 knock our heads together, as we passed each other. 
 We resisted with might and main, and there was 
 plenty of screaming and laughing and prancing of 
 
 247 
 
PEASY'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 fiery steeds. Horses and riders were glad to rest at 
 last, and -partake of refreshments in the shape of the 
 bitten apple, which Mr. Mason generously cut up into 
 mouthfuls with his jack-knife, and divided between 
 us, taking a bite himself, once in a while, by way of 
 toll. 
 
 248 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed at the University Press, Cambridge. 
 
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