Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
“Come on, Tommy. If there is as much ink inside your paper as there is
outside, it will be a long composition,” said Mr. Bhaer, when Demi had
been induced to tear himself from his poem and sit down.
“It isn't a composition, it's a letter. You see, I forgot all about its
being my turn till after school, and then I didn't know what to have,
and there wasn't time to read up; so I thought you wouldn't mind my
taking a letter that I wrote to my Grandma. It's got something about
birds in it, so I thought it would do.”
With this long excuse, Tommy plunged into a sea of ink and floundered
through, pausing now and then to decipher one of his own flourishes.
“MY DEAR GRANDMA, I hope you are well. Uncle James sent me a pocket
rifle. It is a beautiful little instrument of killing, shaped like
this [Here Tommy displayed a remarkable sketch of what looked like
an intricate pump, or the inside of a small steam-engine] 44 are the
sights; 6 is a false stock that fits in at A; 3 is the trigger, and 2
is the cock. It loads at the breech, and fires with great force and
straightness. I am going out shooting squirrels soon. I shot several
fine birds for the museum. They had speckled breasts, and Dan liked
them very much. He stuffed them tip-top, and they sit on the tree quite
natural, only one looks a little tipsy. We had a Frenchman working here
the other day, and Asia called his name so funnily that I will tell
you about it. His name was Germain: first she called him Jerry, but we
laughed at her, and she changed it to Jeremiah; but ridicule was
the result, so it became Mr. Germany; but ridicule having been again
resumed, it became Garrymon, which it has remained ever since. I do not
write often, I am so busy; but I think of you often, and sympathize with
you, and sincerely hope you get on as well as can be expected without
me. Your affectionate grandson,
“THOMAS BUCKMINSTER BANGS.
“P.S.? If you come across any postage-stamps, remember me.
“N.B. Love to all, and a great deal to Aunt Almira. Does she make any
nice plum-cakes now?
“P.S.? Mrs. Bhaer sends her respects.
“P.S.? And so would Mr. B, if he knew I was in act to write.
“N.B. Father is going to give me a watch on my birthday. I am glad as at
present I have no means of telling time, and am often late at school.
“P.S.? I hope to see you soon. Don't you wish to send for me?
“T. B. B.”
As each postscript was received with a fresh laugh from the boys, by the
time he came to the sixth and last, Tommy was so exhausted that he was
glad to sit down and wipe his ruddy face.
“I hope the dear old lady will live through it,” said Mr. Bhaer, under
cover of the noise.
“We won't take any notice of the broad hint given in that last P.S.
The letter will be quite as much as she can bear without a visit from
Tommy,” answered Mrs. Jo, remembering that the old lady usually took to
her bed after a visitation from her irrepressible grandson.
“Now, me,” said Teddy, who had learned a bit of poetry, and was so eager
to say it that he had been bobbing up and down during the reading, and
could no longer be restrained.
“I'm afraid he will forget it if he waits; and I have had a deal of
trouble teaching him,” said his mother.
Teddy trotted to the rostrum, dropped a curtsey and nodded his head at
the same time, as if anxious to suit every one; then, in his baby voice,
and putting the emphasis on the wrong words, he said his verse all in
one breath:—
“Little drops of water,
Little drains of sand,
Mate a mighty okum (ocean),
And a peasant land.
“Little worts of kindness,
Pokin evvy day,
Make a home a hebbin,
And hep us on a way.”
Clapping his hands at the end, he made another double salutation, and
then ran to hide his head in his mother's lap, quite overcome by the
success of his “piece,” for the applause was tremendous.
Dick and Dolly did not write, but were encouraged to observe the habits
of animals and insects, and report what they saw. Dick liked this, and
always had a great deal to say; so, when his name was called, he marched
up, and, looking at the audience with his bright confiding eyes, told
his little story so earnestly that no one smiled at his crooked body,
because the “straight soul” shone through it beautifully.
“I've been watching dragonflies, and I read about them in Dan's book,
and I'll try and tell you what I remember. There's lots of them flying
round on the pond, all blue, with big eyes, and sort of lace wings,
very pretty. I caught one, and looked at him, and I think he was the
handsomest insect I ever saw. They catch littler creatures than they
are to eat, and have a queer kind of hook thing that folds up when they
ain't hunting. It likes the sunshine, and dances round all day. Let me
see! what else was there to tell about? Oh, I know! The eggs are laid in
the water, and go down to the bottom, and are hatched in the mud. Little
ugly things come out of 'em; I can't say the name, but they are brown,
and keep having new skins, and getting bigger and bigger. Only think! it
takes them two years to be a dragonfly! Now this is the curiousest part
of it, so you listen tight, for I don't believe you know it. When it is
ready it knows somehow, and the ugly, grubby thing climbs up out of the
water on a flag or a bulrush, and bursts open its back.”
“Come, I don't believe that,” said Tommy, who was not an observant boy,
and really thought Dick was “making up.”
“It does burst open its back, don't it?” and Dick appealed to Mr. Bhaer,
who nodded a very decided affirmative, to the little speaker's great
satisfaction.
“Well, out comes the dragonfly, all whole, and he sits in the sun sort
of coming alive, you know; and he gets strong, and then he spreads his
pretty wings, and flies away up in the air, and never is a grub any
more. That's all I know; but I shall watch and try to see him do it, for
I think it's splendid to turn into a beautiful dragonfly, don't you?”
Dick had told his story well, and, when he described the flight of the
new-born insect, had waved his hands, and looked up as if he saw, and
wanted to follow it. Something in his face suggested to the minds of
the elder listeners the thought that some day little Dick would have his
wish, and after years of helplessness and pain would climb up into the
sun some happy day, and, leaving his poor little body behind him, find
a new lovely shape in a fairer world than this. Mrs. Jo drew him to her
side, and said, with a kiss on his thin cheek,
“That is a sweet little story, dear, and you remembered it wonderfully
well. I shall write and tell your mother all about it;” and Dick sat
on her knee, contentedly smiling at the praise, and resolving to watch
well, and catch the dragonfly in the act of leaving its old body for
the new, and see how he did it. Dolly had a few remarks to make upon
the “Duck,” and made them in a sing-song tone, for he had learned it by
heart, and thought it a great plague to do it at all.
“Wild ducks are hard to kill; men hide and shoot at them, and have tame
ducks to quack and make the wild ones come where the men can fire at
them. They have wooden ducks made too, and they sail round, and the
wild ones come to see them; they are stupid, I think. Our ducks are very
tame. They eat a great deal, and go poking round in the mud and water.
They don't take good care of their eggs, but let them spoil, and—”
“Mine don't!” cried Tommy.
“Well, some people's do; Silas said so. Hens take good care of little
ducks, only they don't like to have them go in the water, and make a
great fuss. But the little ones don't care a bit. I like to eat ducks
with stuffing in them and lots of apple-sauce.”
“I have something to say about owls,” began Nat, who had carefully
prepared a paper upon this subject with some help from Dan.
“Owls have big heads, round eyes, hooked bills, and strong claws. Some
are gray, some white, some black and yellowish. Their feathers are very
soft, and stick out a great deal. They fly very quietly, and hunt bats,
mice, little birds, and such things. They build nests in barns, hollow
trees, and some take the nests of other birds. The great horned owl has
two eggs bigger than a hen's and reddish brown. The tawny owl has
five eggs, white and smooth; and this is the kind that hoots at night.
Another kind sounds like a child crying. They eat mice and bats whole,
and the parts that they cannot digest they make into little balls and
spit out.”
“My gracious! how funny!” Nan was heard to observe.
“They cannot see by day; and if they get out into the light, they go
flapping round half blind, and the other birds chase and peck at them,
as if they were making fun. The horned owl is very big, 'most as big as
the eagle. It eats rabbits, rats, snakes, and birds; and lives in rocks
and old tumble-down houses. They have a good many cries, and scream like
a person being choked, and say, 'Waugh O! waugh O!' and it scares people
at night in the woods. The white owl lives by the sea, and in cold
places, and looks something like a hawk. There is a kind of owl that
makes holes to live in like moles. It is called the burrowing owl, and
is very small. The barn-owl is the commonest kind; and I have watched
one sitting in a hole in a tree, looking like a little gray cat, with
one eye shut and the other open. He comes out at dusk, and sits round
waiting for the bats. I caught one, and here he is.”
With that Nat suddenly produced from inside his jacket a little downy
bird, who blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking very plump and
sleepy and scared.
“Don't touch him! He is going to show off,” said Nat, displaying his new
pet with great pride. First he put a cocked hat on the bird's head,
and the boys laughed at the funny effect; then he added a pair of paper
spectacles, and that gave the owl such a wise look that they shouted
with merriment. The performance closed with making the bird angry, and
seeing him cling to a handkerchief upside down, pecking and “clucking,”
as Rob called it. He was allowed to fly after that, and settled himself
on the bunch of pine-cones over the door, where he sat staring down at
the company with an air of sleepy dignity that amused them very much.
“Have you anything for us, George?” asked Mr. Bhaer, when the room was
still again.
“Well, I read and learned ever so much about moles, but I declare I've
forgotten every bit of it, except that they dig holes to live in, that
you catch them by pouring water down, and that they can't possibly live
without eating very often;” and Stuffy sat down, wishing he had not been
too lazy to write out his valuable observations, for a general smile
went round when he mentioned the last of the three facts which lingered
in his memory.
“Then we are done for to-day,” began Mr. Bhaer, but Tommy called out in
a great hurry,
“No we ain't. Don't you know? We must give the thing;” and he winked
violently as he made an eye-glass of his fingers.
“Bless my heart, I forgot! Now is your time, Tom;” and Mr. Bhaer dropped
into his seat again, while all the boys but Dan looked mightily tickled
at something.
Nat, Tommy, and Demi left the room, and speedily returned with a little
red morocco box set forth in state on Mrs. Jo's best silver salver.
Tommy bore it, and, still escorted by Nat and Demi, marched up to
unsuspecting Dan, who stared at them as if he thought they were going to
make fun of him. Tommy had prepared an elegant and impressive speech for
the occasion, but when the minute came, it all went out of his head, and
he just said, straight from his kindly boyish heart,
“Here, old fellow, we all wanted to give you something to kind of pay
for what happened awhile ago, and to show how much we liked you for