Samantha on Children’s Rights by Marietta Holley - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXIV.

But to resoom backwards agin. Anna said her Ma had not only acted dretful cool and distant to her Pa ever since, but kep’ up a cool, icy demeanor towards everybody who pitied her over Cicero’s fate. And the thought her idee in givin’ the party wuz to show she could still keep up and hold her ground, and wuz not such a forlorn object of pity as they all seemed to think. Well, Tamer did look queer, her face put me in mind some of our creek before it breaks up in the spring, sort o’ cold and smooth and ice bound, and as if you would be apt to slip up if you ventured a foot on it.

Not one of the relations had dasted, so fur as I could make out, to say one word to her about Cicero, and if relations don’t dast, then who will! I myself didn’t feel like mentionin’ his name, no, my feelin’s wuz so deep no plummet might sound ’em in regard to that boy and his folks. Deep pity, knowledge of first causes, and prophetic feelings I had as to sure results to spring from dime novels, cigarettes, etc., made my feelin’s queer as a dog’s, a black dog’s. And I didn’t feel like sayin’ one word, no, indeed, I felt I had had my say, and, as I watched Tamer’s icy face, I thought to myself I didn’t want to be anywhere round when the ice broke up and the waves of remorse and regret washed tumultous.

Well, she had an elegant dinner and supper, waited on in first class style by a new girl, and I dassent for my life congratulate Tamer on her efficient and neat lookin’ handmaid, no, I dassent bring back any reminiscences of Arabeller, I kep’ still, and, follerin’ the Scripter, I partook of what wuz set before me and asked no questions for conscience sake.

Uncle Ichabod, bein’ the oldest perfessor present, asked splendid blessin’s at both meals, and everything moved on as smooth as clockwork; the relations visited together and talked about the news of the day and about the absent relation, as is their wont to do on such occasions. The old ones settin’ with their heads clost together tradin’ stories of the past; the middle-aged ones strollin’ round or gossippin’ together on the porches or lawn, talkin’ together of the present, their business, their failures and successes; the young ones playin’ on the pianny, and the children shoutin’ and laughin’ and havin’ the best time of all.

And Celestine paintin’ away at that landscape and perfectin’ the feathers of that stork. Two or three times I see little Mary approach her and snuggle up against her and seem to want some attention, but every time her Ma wuz too busy to notice her, some of the tiny feathers on that stork’s legs callin’ for concentrated attention, and the bulrushes on the bank had to be shaded jest right, and so she told little Mary to run away, she couldn’t spend any time with her.

Well, the relations all went home on the evenin’ train and stage, all but one or two of the business men, who had to go earlier, them men took their pleasure grudgingly as if they didn’t really know how to spend in social enjoyment and leisure the time that should been devoted to pilin’ up treasures on earth. All went but Celestine and little Mary and my pardner and me. By the urgent requests of Tamer and Hamen, and the still more urgent pleas of Anna and Jack, we stayed for several days, Josiah and Hamen goin’ out for two days a-runnin’ to neighborin’ farmers to see the operations of a new and curiously constructed windmill. Josiah talks of rarin’ one up to home, and so duz Hamen. So, as Josiah seemed to be contented and happy, I tried to be the same, though I felt I wuz confronted by more curious, complicated problems than any windmill that ever beat the air.

Oh, how Tamer’s cold, icy demeanor chilled my heart! How Anna’s sweet, patient, submissive air wrung the same almost to burstin’ on’t! How the actions of Hamen and his brother to little Jack, foolin’ him, deceivin’ him, and Tamer’s scrupulous attention to his clothes and hair, and paying no attention whatever to his childish soul needs, how all that wrought on the heart aforesaid!

Von Crank went home on the train the relation took, so there wuz one queer element less to contend with, and I trust I wuz thankful for that mercy. After Von Crank left the queerest element that wuz left I think in our soul atmosphere wuz Celestine’s pictures. They looked queer, yes, indeed, they did! but her mind wuz all entangled in their strange scenery, forgittin’ she had a sweet, lovely child right by her side. And she wuz a lovely child. I realized it more and more durin’ the days when we wuz so much together, her Ma bein’ on the piazza and not to be disturbed. Mary’s eyes wuz so bright and big and soft and had the very same look in ’em that Jack’s had sometimes, they seemed to be lookin’ fur off into mysteries we couldn’t see. And I spoze they see ’em, too, though in a strange fashion, too pure and fine to be uttered in our language.

I never looked at ’em when they wuz in these moods (alternated on Jack’s part by loud yellin’ and kickin’ up), I never see that dreamy, rapt look in their faces without bein’ reminded of the verse about the children who always behold the face of the Father. And I believe they did see Him, not in the divine form mebby, but some mysterious afterglow of the divine brightness.

And they wuz believin’ children, too, trustin’ children naturally, though Jack, by hard experience, wuz learnin’ to doubt, and how any one could look into their sweet, believin’ eyes and tell ’em wrong stories, tryin’ to fool ’em, jest as if their sweet, childish wisdom wuzn’t milds beyend their poor earthly knowledge, wuz more than I could see.

But Hamen and his brother had got so in the habit of tellin’ Jack every story they could think of, would tell the same things to Mary, and Celestine wuz too took up with her Art to notice. Truly her pictures seemed to be a necessity of life to her, when, as it seemed to me, she had more than enough for comfort, she wuz hurryin’ to produce more. She offered to paint me a calendar, but I mildly rejected the overtoor. I sez to her that the days and weeks brought so many strange things as they went on that I guessed I had jest as soon take ’em plain. I wuz polite to her, but gin her to understand I wuzn’t sufferin’ for it.

But Tamer wuz enthusiastick about ’em, and Celestine painted her one with every week, showin’ a new animal kinder sprawlin’ round it, amongst some strange flowers and things, I couldn’t have stood it myself to had it round, but Tamer liked it, and Celestine said she would paint one for the hull family. And, bein’ so wrought up ornamentin’ the days of the week on paper, she entirely forgot that the days and years of God held any duty for her, forgot the sweet little soul he had gin to her charge for weal or woe, forgot to speak a word to her from mornin’ till night. Why, it wuz worse than the children mentioned in Scripter when they asked for bread and got a stun, poor little Mary asked for the bread of love and got nothin’ but a piece of paper, though there hain’t a stun on the face of the earth, from Gibrialtar down to a slate stun, that I wouldn’t ruther had gin to me than to have owned one of them picters and had to look at it. But she kep’ at ’em.

Well, it wuz the third day we had been there, and it wuz a beautiful evenin’. I wuz settin’ in my winder overlookin’ the lake, and, seein’ how bright the stars looked reflected in the smooth water and how the crescent moon lay down there like a big golden boat all full and flashin’ with light, and the glowin’ path that led to it shone so it looked like one of them streets of gold we read about in the New Jerusalem, it seemed so solid and bright that it fairly tempted one to walk out on it and set sail in that great dazzlin’ boat for the golden shores and fairy pinnacles of that city that lay becalmed in the west.

And as I sot there I heard, with a small part of my brain, the other part bein’ occupied with my rapt musin’s, little Mary’s voice talkin’ down under the winder on the stoop with her Uncle Hamen, she had always lived inland and had never seen such a glorious show on the water, the nights she had stayed there bein’ cloudy or stormy, I hearn her say in her earnest way, “What is that light, Uncle Hamen, way off there on the water? It looks like a great shinin’ boat.”

And then I hearn, as one who did not hear, Hamen say, “It is a boat, Mary.”

“Well, what are the little bright lights all round it? Are they little playhouses for children? They look so small and bright, and there is such a pretty path to ’em over the water.”

And then I hearn Hamen go on, a little I heard there with my ears onbeknown to me and a little I hearn afterwards from the lips of a too late remorse, but ’tennyrate Hamen told her they wuz little playhouses where good little boys and girls went to play, and asked if she didn’t want to go and play in one of ’em.

And she told him in her believin’, trustin’ way that she guessed she would go out and live in one of them with Jack.

And Hamen said it would be a good idee, they could take some dishes and things and keep house there, and told her to talk to Jack about it. And she pattered off to find Jack, and Hamen told his brother about it, and they both tittered and laughed. But that I did hear afterwards, I am truthful and will not lie even in moments of excitement and tragedy, I did not hear the titters.

Well, it wuzn’t long after that that Jack come into my room, and I, bein’ so wropped round with my reverie, didn’t notice anything in particular, but remember thinkin’ in a dreamy way that he looked dretful buttoned up as if he wuz ready to start off somewhere, and his pockets seemed kinder bulgin’ out, but if I thought anything, I thought it wuz some of his and little Mary’s play, they played keepin’ house and doctorin’ and visitin’ and everything. Well, he come to me and asked me if folks ever lived in the stars?

And I sez, “Sometimes I have thought so, Jack.”

“You’re always sure nuff, Aunt Samantha, and that is why I asked you. Do you spoze they are playgrounds where folks that are tired out, wore out with folks here, can go with somebody they love and have a good time?”

I declare for’t I had been thinkin’ them very thoughts as I sot there lookin’ at the stars and their bright reflections in the water. I had been thinkin’ of how sweet it would be for them who are unhappy, seperated by some cruel chance from them they love, how sweet it would be if them shinin’ worlds wuz indeed restful, lovely playgrounds where they could wander together like happy children full of the delight and wonder of readin’ new truths and new happiness in each other’s eyes.

I had jest been thinkin’ of this when Jack come to me, and I rousted up partly from my reverie some like one half asleep. But even in the hours of meditation and reverie I cling to the apron string of truth, and when he sez:

“Do you spoze, Aunt Samantha, the stars are playgrounds?”

I spozein’ he meant after this life instead of the present, spozein’ he referred to the Over World, the Beautiful Hereafter that is the groundwork of all my thoughts, no matter what set flowers of reality is painted on it, I spozed he meant that, and I sez half sadly, half hopefully:

“I have thought it wuz, Jack, a place of beautiful play and beautiful work.”

And as I looked out agin on the lovely cloudy surface of the water, gemmed by them gleaming orbs, sunthin’ like a sad life lit by a glowin’ love and hope, I added:

“Sometimes I have been sure of it.”

And Jack sez, “Do you spoze there will be anybody there to answer questions?” And I, thinkin’ of the strange riddles of this life, and how much we need heavenly light on ’em, sez:

“Yes, I am sure of that, Jack.”

“Well, I sot for a spell longer lookin’ out dreamily and never took particular notice of his warm kiss as he left me, he wuz always kissin’ me, except thinkin’ mekanically it wuz a long and sticky one, as they often wuz, owin’ to love and molasses candy. And it wuzn’t more’n a spell after that before I ondressed and went to bed, Josiah havin’ been reposin’ on his peaceful piller for some time. And I, too, fell asleep. When all of a sudden I hearn steps runnin’ round and excited talk goin’ on below, my first thought wuz of burglars, but as the excitement seemed to increase I thought of a conflagration and rousted up my companion, and sez:

“Sunthin’ is the matter, Josiah Allen, you will have to git up and see about it.”

“Which is it to-night, Samantha,” sez he, in a sarcastick axent that I despise, “is it a mouse or a burglar!”

I looked witherin’ at him, and he sez, “I merely asked you so I should know how to prepare to meet the foe, with a mouse trap or a sord.”

I deny that I git him up very often to tend to such things, not oftener than once in a while, not oftener than the common run of wimmen do. But the excitement continued to rain, and finally he hearn it rain himself, and he sez:

“Well, I guess there is sunthin’ the matter.”

And jest then we hearn a rap on our door, and Josiah sez, “Who is there? What is the matter?”

And a voice answered, “Jack and Mary can’t be found!”

And I riz right up and dressed me, and so did Josiah, I forebodin’ all the time, a shadder of the great Onknown seemin’ to fall over my mind and heart, as if preparin’ me for what wuz to come.

When we got downstairs Tamer wuz in highstericks, and Celestine, forgittin’ her art, wuz rushin’ round to and fro with a white wrapper on and a whiter face, callin’ on little Mary in axents so pitiful it almost seemed it would roust up a dead baby, let alone a lovin’, livin’ child. Where wuz them strange animals in that hour? They had walked clean away and left her in agony and despair. She seemed to know from the first on’t that sunthin’ dretful had happened, and so did Tamer. There are awful secrets that mothers learn down in the Valley of Death where they go to claim their babies, they learn things there and keep ’em in their inmost nater, so clost that art or literatoor, however lurid, can’t dislodge ’em. They felt what they couldn’t explain, hence the highstericks, shriekin’, etc.

Hamen and John, though lookin’ dretful troubled, kep’ on sayin’ they wuz hid somewhere, they would be found, all right, they wuz safe, but goin’ round at a good jog, nevertheless, tryin’ to find ’em. But it wuz my own pardner and myself that found them babies. Alas, for the awful sight! alas, for the woeful sight! Yes, we found ’em.

There wuz a certain place quite a good ways from the house where I knew the children often went to play at keepin’ house. An old gnarled willow tree hung over the water, and in its crooked trunk wuz a holler place where they kep’ their little dishes and things, and one or two old dolls for children. Sunthin’ told me to look there, and, follered by my faithful pardner, I went to the little holler jest out of sight of the house.

And there, with the moonlight fallin’ as sorrowful as if some weepin’ angel of compassion wuz holdin’ down a lantern to light us in our search, we found ’em.

Jack had held up little Mary till his arms had fairly froze into that poster of heroism, so she hadn’t been in the water nigh so long. We knew he had tried to save her till his strength gin way and his faithful little arms could no longer do the biddin’ of his generous, lovin’ heart. Little hero! Many a man standin’ up above the multitude on top of a monument did not die half so glorious a death as you did.

And, whether Jack went in after Mary to save her or whether he, too, believed the story of the shinin’ playgrounds (alas! alas! confirmed by me onbeknown to myself) and sot out for ’em with her, we shall never know. All she could remember, sweet little soul! wuz that she sot out to go to them happy playgrounds and sunk down, down into blackness and night.

But for half an hour little Mary’s soul wuz gone away, I wonder where it wuz, anyway, it wuzn’t here. No, her white, cold body didn’t have any tenant in it, no sign of one, there wuz no fire in it, the light wuz blowed out, she wuz gone.

The sweet little soul had gone away visitin’, and I would give—oh! I don’t know what I wouldn’t give to know where it had gone. It couldn’t be the Great Home we move into when our life lease ends here on our earthly property. No, for when we once move out of this earthly body we don’t move back into it agin, that is one of the conditions of the transfer. No, it wuzn’t there, and where then wuz it? I don’t know, nor Josiah don’t. But after a long, long time it come back slowly, lingerin’ly, as if it hated to come.

Celestine hung over her with a look on her face that made me believe that if she ever did come back she would come into a new world where love and care rained instead of art exclusively. Yes, she come back agin, but Jack, dear little boy, he had gone away for good. Yes, I say that word a-purpose, he had gone for good, good for him, but for them who loved him so, what shall we say?

I wonder if he wuz permitted to look forward and see what wuz to be in the future; Tamer and Hamen brung together by the awful hand of Grief and mutual remorse, Hamen a different, more Christian man. Tamer’s icy, cold mean broke up and pulverized by the hand of Grief, the flood of awakened remorse sweepin’ away on its current old foolish ambitions, pride and self-will. Anna left free to marry the man of her choice, Tamer and Hamen rousted up to good deeds and the performance of duty, so layin’ up a store of blessed remembrances to replace the old wretched ones. Cicero comin’ home repentant to begin a new life under the guardianship of a new father and mother, all this and more.

But yet, oh, my poor Jack! that your dear little ice cold form wuz to be the centre from which such blessed events should flow out! Icy cold forehead with the brown curls layin’ on it like gleams of gold, not warmin’ it up any; roses heaped in the tiny cold fingers that did not close on what they loved so; tears falling on the sweet face onnoticed and in vain.

Good-by, dear little Jack—good-by!