Accordin’ to promise Tamer Ann brung Jack to stay a few days with me while she went on to her Aunt Nancy John’s. Her Aunt Nancy don’t like children, bein’ nervous and highstericky, but she is a rich woman and Tamer has expectations from her, and goes there quite a good deal and makes of her. She is Tamer’s great aunt, and is one of two widders of the same name, so to tell ’em apart we call ’em Aunt Nancy John and Aunt Nancy Joe.
Jack wuz awful tickled to git to our house, and I wuz glad enough to see him. And he played round jest as good as a child could all the afternoon, and eat a good supper, and that night before he went to bed he come and leaned his curly head on my shoulder, and talked real confidential to me.
Tamer is a Piscopal, or, that is, what religion she’s got is of that persuasion. I know Piscopals that are perfectly devoted Christians and samplers for any one to foller, but with Tamer I guess it don’t strike in very deep, though she duz go through the motions in meetin’ wonderful for one of her age, and with all the diseases she’s got on her, gittin’ up and kneelin’ down with the best on ’em. And she’s real strict about follerin’ some of the rules and wants her family to; she had told me some time ago about the trouble she had with Jack keepin’ Lent, sez she:
“You know we ort to give up our own wills and do what is pleasin’ to the Lord in Lent, and I have the greatest trouble to make the children see the necessity of it as I do, and I am so particular to keep it,” sez she.
Thinkses I, Tamer Ann Allen, if you should try to do the Lord’s will through one day of Lent you wouldn’t try to make your only girl live a lie the rest of her life, and let your oldest boy go to ruin down the path of dime novels and cigarettes. Why, every one of the troubles she had pinted out to me wuz nothin’ bad in Jack at all, only the sins of ignorance which we read are winked at. But not a wink would Tamer give, not a wink. She had complained awful about his irreverence in prayer time and his utter refusal to give up pie and leave butter offen his bread durin’ Lent. “Why,” sez she, “when I asked him what he would give up he said apples, he guessed, he didn’t love ’em, and he said he would give up bathin’, too, and soap, and havin’ his hair combed, the idee!”
“Did you explain it, Tamer Ann, what Lent wuz for, and why he should make his little sacrifices?”
“No, it is enough for me to tell Jack what to do; he has no right to inquire into my reasons.”
“But,” sez I, “didn’t you inquire into what you called his irreverence at prayer time?”
“I inquired into it with a good switch, that’s what I did, for I will not have irreverence and irreligion goin’ on in my house.”
Well, as I said, Jack come to me that night and laid his head against my shoulder, and I told him he must be a good boy, and I asked him why it wuz that he didn’t want to say his prayers. He had been in real good sperits, but the minute I begun to talk about that he kinder whimpered out, “I don’t want to everykneeshallbow, and I told Ma that I didn’t, I don’t know what it is and don’t want to talk about it, and I told Ma so, and then she said I’d got to, and then I got mad and I told her I won’t everykneeshallbow, and then she whipped me. And what is it, anyway?”
“Say it slower, Jack,” sez I.
“Every-knee-shall-bow,” sez he.
And then it come to me, “Every knee shall bow.” And I went on and told him about the great kind Ruler who made him and all the pleasant things that he had ever enjoyed, and how it is writ down that every knee shall bow to Him.
“Well, I’ll do that,” sez Jack. “I will kneel to Him now, I didn’t know what it meant, and Ma wuz too busy to tell me, and I got mad and wouldn’t ask anybody else. And there is sunthin’ else that I wanted to know awfully, and I wish you would tell me.” That poor little creeter trusted me it seemed more than he did any other person, and I felt greatly complimented by it, as much as if a President or King had paid compliments to me.
“What is the Miz that Ma makes me pray about in church?”
“The Miz?” sez I.
“Yes, the sea and all that in the Miz. I didn’t want to pray about that, for I thought it wuz sunthin’ big and kinder fuzzy. What is it, anyway?”
And then I told him about the same great Ruler, who ruled over the land and sea, and all that in them is. And he went to bed quite happy and promised to say his prayers good, and I believe he did. Poor little creeter!
Well, he stayed two days and had an awful good time, and Josiah and I enjoyed it jest as much as he did, and the next day, accordin’ to promise, I took Jack over to Tirzah Ann’s and Tamer wuz goin’ to stop and visit her and Thomas J. on her way back from Aunt Nancy John’s. I made a good call at Tirzah’s and see a new sass dish she had got and admired it, and a shirt waist, and then I left Jack happy enough to play with Delight, and called at Maggie’s, and Miss Greene Smythe wuz there, she had come to the office to see Thomas Jefferson and wuz waitin’ for him to come home, he wuz expected every minute from Loontown. I inquired in a polite way after her children, and she said that Angenora wuz feelin’ rather nervous to-day, she wuz out to a child’s party the night before and didn’t git home till two o’clock.
“That child,” sez I, “out till two o’clock!”
“Yes,” she said, “Jimmy De Graffe, a boy from the city, gave the party, he lives near us at home and wuz devoted to Angenora; he sent her a valentine last year which wuz a perfect love letter, and one thing that makes Angenora feel so bad to-day, there wuz a little girl there from the city who had on a much prettier dress that hers—Angenora’s wuz white silk with only five ruffles on it, and the little girl’s wuz pink silk with seven ruffles, and Jimmy paid her much more attention than he did Angenora. It almost broke her heart, she is just about sick to-day.”
Sez I to myself, fashion, love-disappointments, jealousies, heartburnings, despair, emotions that child hadn’t ort to know the names on for years and years. Emotions big enough and sad enough to swamp lives well seasoned by years and experience, all being suffered by that baby, who ortn’t to have an anxiety above peanuts and the multiplication table, blind man’s buff and puss-in-the-corner, for years and years, the idee on’t! Why, what heart will that child bring to her lessons, her Elementary Arithmetic all mixed up with problems about flirtin’ and social supremacy, her Gography full of countries that can’t be bounded, realms of jealousy, hatred and strife, her plain readin’ and spellin’ full of readin’ and spellin’ that grown folks can’t read or spell straight to save their lives. What will remain to that child when she gits to be a young woman? All the emotions of youth outgrown and wasted, she will be old at fourteen, a worn-out old young flirt when she enters her teens. The pleasant care-free land of childhood trompled down and destroyed, the lovely playgrounds of youth and happiness turned into campin’ ground for worldly discord and strife, it makes me feel bad to think on’t.
But Miss Greene Smythe went on, “Jimmy De Graffe seemed to think so much of Angenora, she thought it wuz real mean for him to pay all his devoirs to another girl.”
“Devoirs!” sez I, “the idee of them children payin’ devoirs, but it is well named, for these carry-ins on, fashionable midnight parties, child flirtations, etc., do jest devour all that is sweet and lovely in children, all their unconscious grace and artless innocence, and dear little ignorant wise ways, why,” sez I, “Angenora ort to look on boys only as comrades and playfellows for years and years to come, not lookin’ on ’em different from girls only that they are stronger and can run faster and climb trees better.”
Well, I went away pretty soon, for my pardner come from the post office and thought we had better be goin’, but I kep thinkin’ all the way home on that triumphant child flirt, and Angenora sad and melancholy, and the idee of bo’s and flirtin’ that wuz planted in the minds and hearts of babies, destroyin’ the childish mirth and good comradeship that should exist in happy freedom between children of both sects. Pictures of pretty playful hours between Jack and Delight come to my mind some as you see pictures in a magic lantern, and one of the very prettiest ones come to me as I washed and wiped my dishes that night, Josiah doin’ his barn chores at the same time.
It took place the February before, February the fourteenth, the day when Angenora wuz writin’ and receivin’ lover-like epistles from young old men of nine or ten years of age, I thought with satisfaction and happiness of this pretty seen that had took place in our own home. Jack and Delight had been stayin’ a week with me, and I had noticed for a day or two before that the children had had a good deal of mysterious talkin’ between ’em, and there seemed to be a secret they wuz tryin’ to keep from me; I see ’em countin’ their pennies, and once I hearn Jack say, “All together we’ve got leven cents.”
And then Delight sez, “We can get a splendid one for that.” But the minute they ketched sight of me they stopped talkin’ in a dretful elaborate way, put their fingers to their lips, and shook their heads, and nodded towards me and Josiah, and I see it wuz sunthin’ connected with us, and I made a point at once of not seein’ or hearin’ ’em at all. And that is one of the greatest secrets of life and success, the nack of not hearin’ things. It is almost as necessary in order to git along smooth and pleasant to not hear things as it is to hear ’em.
Lots of times if you hear and see things, sass, for instance, from help, I mean, little bits of sass that will spill out of the big dish of daily worry sometimes, why, if you see that sass you have got to pay attention to it, and wipe it up with admonition and reproof, or ruther make them that dropped it there clean it up with apology and atonement, which will take time and strength and nerves, but if you don’t see it, why it will evaporate, and the dish will right itself up of itself, in eight cases out of ten it will.
And children, bless their dear souls! how many times it is a positive boon to not see their little acts or hear their little words. If you see the small feet wanderin’ for a minute from the highway in search of some butterfly, or, ruther, why you’ve got to pull ’em back agin by main strengh. But if you don’t see ’em why they will come back of their own little accords, most always, and save their temper and yours. And so with their outbursts of discontent and annoyance, if you hear it you have got to rebuke and chasten, but if you don’t hear it, why, good land! it is all over in a minute.
And the best way to teach, anyway, is object teachin’. Make yourself the object, try to do right yourself with fear and tremblin’, and make a sampler of yourself for the children to work their poor little pieces of life’s canvas by. That is the best way of teachin’ on earth and the surest (sometimes I do eppisode even in my reveries and have to resoom forwards agin).
Well, this wuz the day but one before Valentine’s day, and the children beset Josiah to take ’em to Jonesville, and Josiah promised he would.
But it turned out to be a turrible stormy day, blowin’, snowin’ too bad for anybody to be out, and Josiah didn’t go. The children wuz fearful disappinted, their little faces wuz sad and overcasted, and I got a extra good dinner, and when I fried cakes I fried every animal I ever hearn on, unless it wuz a Bengal tiger, for ’em, and it seems some as if I fried him, but I won’t be certain. But even this immense menagerie didn’t seem to fill ’em with the joy it ort, but towards night they begun to brighten up some. I see their two curly heads clost together, the light and the dark, talkin’ over some project big to them, and then they’d look at Josiah and me dretful meanin’ and nod their heads to each other in a knowin’ way, their little faces all lighted up agin.
And they seemed to be in full and frequent communication with our hired man, and then the two little heads, the dark lustrous one with threads of gold runnin’ through the dark curls, and the light flaxen one with threads of mornin’ sunshine wove into the long flaxen waves, these heads would nestle clost together agin as if in deep thought and endeavor.
Well, the mornin’ of Saint Valentine’s day wuz bright and sunshiny, the long rays of gold light crept into our room through the white curtain edged with lace of my own knittin’, and through them same curtains I could see the great masses of warm light in the east like a pink and gold carpet spread out for the sun to walk up into the day on as he come up to light the world.
I wuz jest layin’ and thinkin’ how beautiful and glorious it all wuz, and also with one corner of my mind wonderin’ when Josiah laid out to git up, and whether he had got enough kindlin’ wood the night before, when I heard two little taps at the bedroom door and Josiah waked up. And before we could even ask who wuz there, in come Jack and little Delight in their long white nightdresses. Jack slept upstairs in the room with the hired man, and Delight slept in a little room offen ours. But there them two beautiful little creeters stood right in the rays of mornin’ light, hand in hand, with faces as grave and earnest as if the hull weight of the President’s cares lay on their curly heads. And as we looked up and see ’em, they advanced hand in hand and made two bows, the most stupendious and wonderful bows I ever see or hearn on, why their little noses most grazed the floor, they wuz that deep and impressive, and then they repeated both on ’em in their sweet, fresh little voices:
“The rose is red, the vilets blue,
The pink is pretty, and so are you.
My pen is poor, my ink is pale,
My love for you shall never fail.”
And then they made agin them solemn deep bows and walked out of the room still holdin’ hands. And Josiah and I kinder smiled a little after they went out, not before them, no, not for a silver dollar would I laughed before them, and I sez, “This is our valentine, Josiah.”
“Yes,” sez he, “and a prettier one never went through a post office.”
“That’s so,” sez I, “unless it wuz the one you sent me with the roses and forget-me-nots on it the year before we wuz married.” And all the time Josiah wuz buildin’ the fire, and while I wuz gittin’ breakfast I thought of how the blossoms of life are scattered down through all the seasons of the year and of life. The roses that come with that valentine of Josiah’s had faded, the frosts of thirty years had stole the pretty pink tinge offen ’em, and the years had gone by, long years, long years, and youth wuz past.
But, good land! could anything be so sweet and beautiful as the valentine that had come to us on this February morning, when the gray hairs lay thick on my own head, and my poor Josiah’s head wuz bare beneath the touch of Time’s hand, which had been strokin’ him down for so long a time. I told the children at the breakfast table, as they sot in their little high chairs opposite to Josiah and me, and my face wuz jest as earnest and good as I could make it:
“You couldn’t have pleased us so well with any other valentine in the world, there couldn’t be one bought anywhere that we should have liked half so well—could there, Josiah?”
“No,” sez he, “not one; there hain’t a valentine in the hull country that could compare with the one we got this mornin’.”
And then the children bust right out laughin’, they wuz so tickled to think we liked it, and they laughed partly, I think, because I had gin each on ’em a little glass dish of honey as a treat on account of the valentine. Bless their sweet hearts! could any other valentine be tinged with the light of love that gilt ourn? Could any picture match the lustrous tenderness of the soft gray eyes, and soft mornin’ glory blue ones? Could any gold-edged paper equal the glint of the golden hair, could any page equal the pink tinge of the rosy cheeks, and the white forwards and necks, and little pink toes stickin’ out under their nightgowns as our dear little valentines come to us in the fresh morning light, warmin’ up the coldness of a February morning?
Well, a few days after this Josiah told me he had seen Mrs. Greene Smythe to Thomas Jefferson’s office, and she wanted to see me on a little bizness, and wanted me to come in when I wuz up that way, as she understood I wuz quite often, she wanted to consult me about a Charity Bazar. Well, the word charity is always a-takin’ one with me, for in that incomparable chapter I love so well it describes all the graces at full length, and then sez, “The greatest of these is Charity.”