My Young Days
A >> Anonymous >> My Young Days[Illustration: TAKE MINE!]
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MY YOUNG DAYS.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "EVENING AMUSEMENT," "LETTERS EVERYWHERE," ETC., ETC.
_WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY PAUL KONEWKA._
NEW YORK:
E. P. DUTTON & CO., 713, BROADWAY.
LONDON: SEELEY, JACKSON, & HALLIDAY.
1872.
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[Illustration: THE MITTENS.]
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CONTENTS.
PAGE
I.--HOME SICKNESS 1
II.--UNCLE HUGH'S STORY 10
III.--THE LITTLE STOWAWAY 21
IV.--MY HOME, AND WHAT IT IS LIKE 33
V.--LITTLE COUSINS 46
VI.--WHAT ABOUT LESSONS 59
VII.--HURRAH FOR THE HOLIDAYS! 76
VIII.--THE COTTAGE ON THE CLIFF 90
IX.--SUSETTE AND HER TROUBLES 108
X.--AUTUMN DAYS 123
XI.--GOOD-BYE TO BEECHAM 137
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MY YOUNG DAYS.
I.
_HOME SICKNESS._
"I want to go home!"
How many times in my life, I wonder, have these words come rushing up
from the very bottom of my heart, tumbling everything out of the way,
never listening to reason, never stopping for thought? How many times
since that dreary afternoon in the great, big drawing-room at
grandmamma's? And, oh dear me! what miserable heartache comes before
that fearful want! Oh, grown-up people, don't you know how sour
everything tastes, and how yellow everything looks, and how sick
everything makes one, when one wants to go home?
So it was that one wretched day. How well I remember it all! The large,
large drawing-room so full of cushions, couches, easy-chairs, little
tables covered with funny knick-knacks, marble-slabs and more
knick-knacks, beautiful fire-screens, large mirrors, soft fur lying
about on the floor, and many-coloured antimacassars on the chairs. By
and by, all these wonders had happy memories pinned on to them, of
uproarious games with merry little play-fellows. Now, I was all alone,
and very lonely, in it all. True, there was grandmamma nodding in her
easy-chair, in the firelight, on one side, and there was Uncle Hugh
reading the "Times" by the same light on the other. But what were either
of them to the little tired stranger on the low stool between them? Once
grandmamma's eyes had opened just to look at me, and say, "Making pretty
pictures of the red coals, my dearie?"
And Uncle Hugh had answered, "Yes, to be sure; dreaming of the King of
Salamanders!"
And they went to sleep again or went on reading, and the little company
smile faded away from my face, and I went back to those very real dreams
of the nursery at home, and baby there, and little brother, and papa and
mamma, and the long time ago, hours and hours ago! when I said good-bye,
and Bobbie kissed his hand out of window, and the carriage took me
off--a happy little woman, really going in the puff-puff! Oh, how could
I ever have felt so happy then and be so miserable now? Had I ever
thought that I was coming away from them all, with nobody at all but
Jane, the new nursemaid, to take care of me? Had I ever thought how
_quite_ alone I should be, never able to find my way in this great, big
house, sure to get lost in some of the passages? And how could I ever go
to sleep without Bobbie close by, and wouldn't Bobbie cry for me at
home? And oh, nurse wouldn't be there to tuck me up, and perhaps
grandmamma wouldn't like the candle left! And who would give me my
good-night kiss like,--like,--oh, oh, like----But it would come, that
great big sob, it wasn't any use to choke it back! And, when it had
come, of course, it was all over with me, and there was nothing for it
but to cry out just as if I was not in that grand drawing-room--
"I want to go home! I want, oh, I do want mamma!"
What a disturbance that cry of mine did make, to be sure! Grandmamma was
wide-awake in a moment, looking very much distressed, and laying her
hand on the bell. This troubled me very much; for hadn't Jane told me
when she brushed my hair and made me tidy, that I was to go down and be
a good girl, "and do things pretty" in the drawing-room, and would she
scold me if I was sent away for crying and making a noise? But Uncle
Hugh came to my rescue, threw away his paper, and cuddled me up in his
great strong arms almost like papa. And he showed me his watch, and made
it strike, and then began to show me all kinds of wonders about the
room: little tiny black men under a glass case, small china monkeys,
cats and frogs, and funny shells and fishes, and snakes' skins, and
lots of other things. And after that we came back to the easy-chair, and
he sang me sailors' songs, and told me all about "The House that Jack
built!"
[Illustration: THE CAT THAT WANTED THE GOOSE.]
"Little woman," he said at last, "did you ever hear of 'The Goose that
Jack killed?'" and then he sang in his funny way, "This is the goose
that Jack killed; and this is the cat that wanted the goose that Jack
killed; and this is the dog that chased the cat that wanted the goose
that Jack killed; and this is the thief that cheated the dog that chased
the cat that wanted the goose that Jack killed; and this is the dream
that haunted the thief that cheated the dog that chased the cat that
wanted the goose that Jack killed; and this"--
But "Good night, Uncle Hugh, there's Jane come to fetch Miss Sissy to
her tea, upstairs in the nursery."
II.
_UNCLE HUGH'S STORY._
Yes, tea alone in the nursery, that strange room that looked as if it
hadn't been a nursery for a great many years, and was as queer and
awkward as an old woman trying to look young again. No clatter of spoons
to make baby laugh, no chatter of childish voices, only little me, all
alone with Jane--little me, so puzzled and strange and bewildered in the
new place! Perhaps Jane thought me dull, for she talked away fast
enough, about that dear old lady, my grandmamma, and about the beautiful
place we were in, and what if Master Bobbie should grow up some day to
find it all his own, and be the lord of it all. I didn't care much if he
did; I only wanted him now, little boy as he was, to put his fat arms
round my neck, for I was "little sister" to nobody here; it was mere
mockery calling me "Miss Sissy" all the time. Perhaps Jane heard the
sigh, for she stopped afterwards in the middle of her long story about
the little cousins from over the sea, that were coming here in a day or
two. She had me on her lap, and she was just taking off my shoes and
socks, but she drew my head to her shoulder, and told me that I had
"Janie-panie" with me, who was always going to take care of me all the
time. I was very tired, and my eyes went shut on the pillow after that,
before they had time to cry home-sick tears. And next day there were so
many new things to see; two little puppies to make friends with, beside
the parrot and pussy.
But I mustn't begin to tell you all the things that happened that day.
You see, I have made quite a long story of my first evening, so you must
try and fancy all about the walk in the park with Jane, and the drive
with Grandmamma to the town, and the toy-shop, and what we bought there.
When we came home it was my tea-time; and after that Jane changed my
frock, and did my hair, and took me down to dessert, in the dining-room.
Ah, then the shy fit came on, and I bent my head very gravely to take
the sweet bits off Uncle Hugh's fork, I remember. But when he had
pushed back his chair, given his arm to grandmamma, and his hand to me,
and taken us into the drawing-room--then, while he made me nestle down
on his knee in the soft easy-chair, all my shyness went away at the look
of his merry eyes.
"Now for the goose that Jack killed," he said; and then and there began
the funniest story you ever heard. Only I can't tell it in the funny
words and with the merry, twinkling glances he gave me.
[Illustration: THE DOG THAT CHASED THE CAT.]
It was when Uncle Hugh was a middy, and he had been sailing in a great
big ship ever so long, till at last they came to some foreign country, I
don't know where. Well, Uncle Hugh and his friend Jack Miller went
roaming about, very glad to get off the sea. They took possession of a
little empty hut on the beach, and spent some of the time there, and
some of the time roaming about on the hills. Now it chanced, one day,
that they saw a flock of wild geese flying over the shore. Jack had a
gun with him, and he instantly shot one of these geese. Uncle Hugh says
they had had so much salt meat at sea, that they smacked their lips to
think of a nice fat goose for dinner. So they carried it off to their
hut, and then they pulled off all the feathers one by one, and made it
quite ready to cook. What funny cooks they must have been! But it wasn't
quite time to roast it, so they tied it up by a string to the door and
went away, leaving the captain's dog, Neptune, to watch it.
[Illustration: THE THIEF THAT STOLE THE GOOSE.]
Now, Nep was a very funny dog--a nervous dog, Uncle Hugh called him--and
he was quite afraid something would happen. By and by, poor pussy came
to have a peep at the goosey-gander, and she climbed up the steps on
tip-toe just to look. Nep watched her, and didn't feel easy in his mind,
and when poor pussy just stretched forward her head (because she was a
little short-sighted, I dare say), Nep could bear it no longer. He gave
a great loud bark, and flew along the road after the wretched, flying
cat. Silly dog! while he was gone after puss, and just as he had his
fore-paws quite over her back, up comes a sly thief to the hut door,
quietly unhooks the bird, and runs off the other way, with its head
hanging over his shoulder. "And, so, you see, Sissy," said Uncle Hugh
in his funnily grave way, "poor Jack and I came back to find our dinner
all gone!" But they got scent of the thief, and they caught him and shut
him up in their little hut, and locked him in, and left him with nothing
but bread and water. "For there was no policeman there, Sissy; we had to
play policemen ourselves."
[Illustration: THE DREAM THAT HAUNTED THE THIEF.]
And there they left him all night. And the poor thief thought about his
little hungry children at home, till he fell asleep and dreamt (I wonder
how Uncle Hugh knew that?) that he saw the goose all smoking hot, gravy
and all, and a knife and fork all ready to cut it up.
But they didn't mean to be cruel--I don't believe Uncle Hugh could be!
So they had a nice, hot supper themselves on board the big ship, and
plenty of fun, and lots of merry songs. And then they cut three big
slices and put them aside.
And don't you think the thief-man must have been surprised when he saw
the nice breakfast that Jack brought him next morning? I think Uncle
Hugh said that he wrapped it all up and took it home to his children.
How queer he must have felt as he slunk off, the sailors standing round
and giving him three cheers and plenty of jokes!
III.
_THE LITTLE STOWAWAY._
One of my earliest friends at the Park was a little French boy, a kind
of page of my uncle's. Shall I tell you about him? You will think it
very funny that a servant-boy should be allowed to be my friend, so I
must explain.
Little Gus, as my uncle called him--though his real name was
Gustave--was altogether a little foreigner. He couldn't talk English at
all properly; in fact, the greater part of our conversation was carried
on by signs. He was very much afraid of everybody in the house, except
Uncle Hugh. He thought there was nobody in all the world like the
Captain, as he called him. His bright eyes used to twinkle and his white
teeth shine whenever he could find a chance of running an errand, or
doing any little job for the Captain; and I think it was, perhaps,
because he took me for the Captain's little pet that he grew so fond of
me.
He would follow me all about the garden, and watch me as I talked away
to Jane, and be ready to find my ball or fetch my hoop the minute I
wanted them.
Now, after we had been a little while at the Park, I found that Jane had
got very fond of flowers, and was always anxious to go to the
glass-houses directly we came out into the garden.
"Why, Miss Sissy," she would say, "there never was anything like the
ferns, and the orange-trees, and the cactuses in them houses; and Mr.
Owen so civil-like in showing them to us, too."
So off we went to the hot-houses, and there Mr. Owen and Jane talked
and talked till I got tired of the hot air, and went to play outside;
and there just outside was Gus, always waiting to pick me the prettiest
flowers, and find me the first sweet violets. But I was shy, and his
words were so foreign that they frightened me; nor did I like at all
being called "Petite mademoiselle," which was not my name, and couldn't
mean anything that I could think of. At last I grew braver, and one day
I ventured to ask--
"Who is your papa?"
"Me hab no papa, no mamma!" he said, looking very full at me.
"Where do you live then?" I asked. "You're not a bit like Bobbie!"
"Me live wid de Capitaine; me never will leaf de Capitaine--never,
never, never!" he answered eagerly.
This made me feel very queer, and I think I looked half-frightened, for
his look changed quickly, and he said, smiling his own sunny smile--
"Me fetch petite mademoiselle somet'ing nice; me fetch de puss dat de
Capitaine just bring home!"
A pussy! That sounded pleasant, and I waited eagerly for his return. I
waited a long time, as it seemed, and I had grown tired, and was looking
for daisies on the grass, when I heard his step and the tap of his
favourite holly-stick on the gravel. What a funny boy he was to call
that "something nice"!
There he stood, his eyes and mouth all one smile, and held out at arm's
length by the ears a dead rabbit. My look and exclamation of horror made
him grave at once.
[Illustration: POOR DEAD PUSSY!]
"Oh, the poor little rabbit!" I cried. "Has Uncle Hugh killed him
quite dead?"
"Yes, yes, he quite dead! De Capitaine's gun kill him quite, de small
dog pick him up. Petite mademoiselle not frighten, he quite dead!"
Ah, that was just the reason of my fright! Away I ran to Jane, and hid
my face in her gown; and a very vigorous scolding did she give the
French boy when she found what he had done.
Poor fellow! he was very much disconcerted, and did not know what to
say. Two hours after he came back, and finding me alone just going for
a drive, he said softly--
"Little puss all alive now, run away in de voods. Petite mademoiselle,
come see?"
What did he mean? The rabbit could not be "quite dead" at one time, and
"all alive" afterwards. But grandmamma was coming downstairs, and I had
no time to answer him. By and by, when I was lying back on the soft
cushions stroking grandmamma's pretty white fur, I told her all my
puzzle.
"Ah, my pet," she said, "poor Gus had a very cruel French father, and
doesn't know any better. He ran away from home when your uncle's ship
was touching at Marseilles, and hid himself in the hold. They found him
when they got out to sea--a little stowaway the sailors called him--and
your uncle liked his dark, pitiful eyes, and was very kind to him; but
he has not learnt much yet that's good. Don't have too much to say to
him, my darling!"
Well, it wasn't very likely I should, for he and I found it not very
easy to understand each other; yet he liked to do anything he could for
me, and was always watching to see what I wanted.
Nearly a year after that, I remember, it was very cold, and the little
southern boy felt it especially. He had grown ever so tall and thin, but
not strong, and he went about looking blue and shivery. How I came to be
still at the Park I will tell you in another place, but there I was, and
my friend Gus won my pity by his wretched looks. I used to look at his
blue hands, and wonder what could be done. At last I remembered a pair
of warm knitted gloves, that had been given me, which I never wore.
They had no fingers, only a thumb, and I doubted whether Gus would wear
them; but I made up my mind that he would be glad anyhow to keep his
chilblains from the wind.
I don't think I shall ever forget his look when I presented them to him,
holding them by the pretty blue wool which fastened them together. That
his "petite mademoiselle" should think of him, and make him a present,
too! and then that that present should be one that he could not anyhow
use! It was fairly too much for him; he looked at them, he looked at me,
turned furiously red, stammered, stuttered, turned round, and literally
ran away!
I never tried to make him a second present.
IV.
_MY HOME, AND WHAT IT WAS LIKE._
Now, do you know, I feel rather ashamed of myself that I have not all
this while told you in the least who I was, or where I came from. I
began in the middle by saying, "I want to go home," but never told you
in the least where my home was, nor what it was.
Well, to tell you the truth, I did not know much about my family history
in those early days. I knew that my name was Mary Emily Marshall,
commonly called Sissy, and I knew that my papa was "the gentleman that
makes all the sick people well,"--"or tries to," Jane would add. I never
did. Of course, if my papa tried to do anything he did it. That was my
doctrine. We lived quite down in the country among the poor people, and
we were not rich ourselves. Mamma had been born in this beautiful park,
and I know now, though I did not then, that it was a great trouble at
the Park when she married the country doctor, who loved the poor people
so much that he would not leave them to grow rich and honoured as a
London physician. But there was no grandpapa left now to be angry; and
grandmamma, though we had never seen her, we had always loved for the
beautiful presents she sent us.
There were only three of us at this time--my little self; Bobbie, a boy
of four years old, boasting of the fattest, rosiest cheeks in the world;
and wee Willie, the white-faced, fretful baby of six months. Oh, how
well I remember the old house, with its great lamp hanging out over the
lonely road, and shining among the trees, to show the villagers the way
up to their good, kind friend the doctor. Many were the blessings we
little ones used to get as we passed down the village street, and we
owed them all to our father's goodness.
Happy times we had of it, Bobbie and I, in that old house at the top of
the hill. I don't think any little brothers and sisters were ever quite
such good friends. There were three years between us, but I was little
and he was big, so nobody guessed it, and we played together, and never
thought which was the elder. The great treat of the day was the game
with papa in the evening, but that couldn't be counted upon. Very often
he would have to leave the dinner-table suddenly, and when we heard his
peculiar slam of the hall-door before the bell rang to summon us down,
we knew that we had lost our game, and we comforted ourselves by telling
each other that papa had gone to see some little sick child like baby
Willie, and to make him quite well; and then we would make up our minds
to a good quiet game by ourselves.
[Illustration: PAPA AND MAMMA.]
We used to take turns, he playing at doll with me one time, and I
playing at horses with him next time. How well I remember my hairless,
eyeless doll, and all the pleasure she gave us! And good-natured old
nurse was quite willing, whenever Willie was a little better than usual,
to work wonders with dolly's toilet. One week she would be a fine, grand
lady, to whom Bobby would act footman and I lady's-maid. Next week, she
was a soldier fighting grand battles, and lying dead on the battle-field
at last, with a patch of red paint on the forehead, and we two singing
dirges and songs of victory; and then, all of a sudden, the soldier
was turned into a baby, with long white clothes and the prettiest of
caps.
The day that grandmamma's letter came, asking for "one of the dear
children to stay with her," dolly was just learning to walk. We were
having our firelight play before tea. I had tied up my curls to look
like a grown woman's hair, and I had papa's umbrella to keep the rain
off dolly in her first walk. Bobbie had papa's hat and stick, and he
held Rosalinda's other hand. I was just telling him not to walk so fast,
because his long strides would tire our little girl, when I heard
papa's voice calling me.
In a minute more I was standing between his knees, and mamma was
watching my face as I tried to take in the idea of this first visit.
"Jane shall go with you, my darling--you will not be all alone," said
mamma; "indeed, you shall not go at all if you had rather not, but
grandmamma wants to have you."
And then papa added a great deal about seeing the place where mamma
lived when she was my age, and told me that I should come back with such
rosy cheeks. And all the while I was thinking of the new doll's-house
that grandmamma would give me perhaps. The thought of this took me back
to Rosalinda, and I felt sure that Bobbie would let her fall if I didn't
be quick and go to him. So I said, "Yes, I will go," very much in a
hurry, and was ever so glad to get away and run upstairs again.
"Queer little fish!" I heard papa say as I left the room. "She thinks a
great deal more about the doll and Bobbie, than of the visit to
Beecham."
"Children never look far forward," was mamma's answer.
But I did look forward by and by. When dear Rosalinda was safely tucked
up in her cradle, and Bobbie and I had "time to think," as we said, then
we talked it all over. And very wonderful plans we made. Such numbers of
injunctions did I lay upon Bobbie, as to the care of the dolls while I
was away, that the poor little fellow said with a sigh, "Yes, I'll try
and 'member, Sissy!"
So I consoled him by the thought of all the presents grandmamma would
send him when I came back. In fact, I was to bring something for
everybody, so I thought. Two dear little rabbits for Bobbie, perhaps a
new black silk gown for nurse, a beautiful sash for the baby, and so on,
and so on.
[Illustration: SO NICE!]
The next afternoon Bobbie and I had our last feast. Do _you_ often have
feasts? I don't mean cake and fruit, and good things at the
dinner-table. Oh no, I mean a real tiny feast all to yourselves, with
the nursery-chair unscrewed to make table and chair, with square paper
plates twisted at the corners, paper dishes with sugar on one, currants
on another, rice or raisins on another, and little doll's-house cups
for the make-believe wine and the real milk. Ah, that nice sugared milk
taken in little sips out of the oldest nursery-spoons! How well I can
fancy myself now, giving Bobbie his spoonful, while pussy looked
enviously up at us? Then it was that the bright thought struck me that I
would bring home some real Beecham kittens to puss, that would do quite
well in the place of those dear little lost ones, that James had taken
away and forgotten ever to bring back? Well, you know, all the
preparations were made, my pretty new frock tried on, all my kisses
given, and all sorts of messages sent home from the station, and in the
highest of spirits my first start in life was accomplished. What my
feelings were when the day came to an end, you know, so I need not tell
you.
V.
_LITTLE COUSINS._
So now you know who I was, where I came from, and all about me. Let me,
then, go on telling you about this remarkable visit to grandmamma. You
have heard all about those first quiet days, when I was all alone, the
only little thing in all the place. It was very different afterwards, I
can tell you.
You know Jane had told me all that was going to happen. Indeed, she
talked always very fast, and didn't mind filling my little head with her
opinions of my betters which was certainly a mistake. It was a shame,
she said, that my uncle, "the Reverend," should send all his children
here, while he and his wife went taking their travels and their pleasure
all about to those gay foreign places!
Grandmamma talked about it in quite a different way. She told me how ill
my aunt had been, so ill that my uncle had been obliged to take her away
from England for the whole winter. And she said that now they had left
the place on the beautiful Swiss lake, and were going to try some
German baths. Only they could not take the children there, so they were
to come and stay at the Park for a month or too, the while.
I thought this would be very nice, and I began to ask all sorts of
questions about Harry and Lottie, and Alick and Murray, and Bertie and
the baby. How funny it would seem when the nursery was so full! I
thought the day would never come. But it did. The carriage was sent off
to the station, and in due time it came back, quite full to overflowing
with children!
There was a good deal of shyness at first, when we all stood in a row,
and looked at each other, answering grandmamma's questions seriously,
and feeling very odd. But that was only the first evening. Next day we
were quite happy and comfortable, had a very merry breakfast, and then a
delightful ramble about the gardens and orchards. Of course, I was only
one of the little ones, coming in between Alick and Murray, feeling very
small beside Lottie and Harry. Yet we were all very good friends, and
Lottie soon told me that she thought it would be very nice to have a
girl to talk to, and not only boys. This remark pleased me, though when
I thought of Bobbie, it sounded rather strange. Indeed, I am not sure
that I was not a little too fond of boys' play.