The William Henry Letters. Diaz Abby Morton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ take back these?"

      "O, I guess not," she answered. "I guess you better send them. But," she added a moment after, "perhaps they might as well stay till you send another barrel."

      "Just exactly as well," I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had recovered a lost treasure.

      Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly come again.

      "For you know," said Aunt Phebe, "'t is a great deal better to hear you tell things than to read about them in the newspapers."

      They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old horse, and talked to him as if he understood. She broke off two heads of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied air, just as I have seen some little girls, – and boys too, for that matter, and occasionally grown people.

-

      But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. 'T is true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn't very well, and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and 't was one of Billy's letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children say, there wouldn't be any sense to them. Others contained mostly private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to decide a law case.

      THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS

      The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made to appear here, with its very peculiar handwriting, and with all the other distinctive marks of a boy's first exploit on paper, it would be found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form.

-

      My dear Grandmother, —

      I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have dumplings. I've tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that's lost the mate of it. The mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma'am, to 'em when they come round? If they don't agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or was it the hot flannels, – and how many?

      I've forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, because you told me so many things I can't remember. How can anybody tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can't think what a great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts, – Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don't like Tom Cush.

      I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of them very much. How does my sister do? Don't let the cow eat my peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don't grow here; but he says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will be here. How funny 't will seem to be eleven, when I've been ten so long! I don't skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my jacket comes out even.

      Why didn't you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind blew so when it rained.

      We learn to sing. He says I've a good deal of voice; but I've forgot what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only get up, I guess 't would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails my ear. I thought he said I hadn't got any at all. What have a feller's ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down?

Your affectionate grandchild,William Henry.

      P.S. Here's a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the singing-master win? Because "Time flies," and he beats time.

      I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, dreadfully.

W. H.-

      This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his personal appearance.

-

      My dear Grandmother, —

      I've got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has father sold the bossy calf yet? There's a boy here they call Bossy Calf, because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, so the boys can't hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off.

      One thing more the boys plague me for besides my head. Freckles. Dorry held up an orange yesterday. "Can you see it?" says he. "To be sure," says I. "Didn't know as you could see through 'em," says he, meaning freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don't tell, for I should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker in summer than they do in winter.

Your affectionate grandchild,William Henry.-

      If William Henry's recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the circus performance here mentioned. It must have been "sure cure!" I well remember the "plaguing" of my school days, and know from experience how hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows used to make fun of my name. In our quarrels, when there was nothing else left to say, they would call out, – leaving off the Silas, – "Y Fry? why not bake?" or "boil," or "stew." Of course to such remarks there was no answer.

      It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother's letters were preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps cautioning him against spending too freely.

-

      My Dear Grandmother, —

      I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I'm a spunky boy. But doing it so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till I'm out of breath. Then I can't say anything.

СКАЧАТЬ