Jolly good times to-day

Front matter

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

.

Preface

S the title of this book implies, it aims to

^ ^ depict, not the pleasures enjoyed at Hackmatack or elsewhere, fifty years ago, but those of the children here and now. Nothing could afford a greater contrast, or illustrate more clearly the change in manners and habits during the last half-century in this country, than the difference between the. lives and training of children now and then. In a wholly different world from that of their grandfathers, are the children of to-day growing up.

We often hear that American children are being ruined by indulgence. This is undoubtedly true in some cases. But so bright and intelligent, so kindly and generous, so readily moved to helpfulness of those less fortunate than themselves, are the girls and boys whom it is my good fortune to know, that I cannot borrow much trouble about the future of our country when theirs, and such as theirs, shall be the hands that guide her

Preface .

destinies. Their “ jolly ” times are quite as apt to be “ good,’’ as their “ good ” times are sure to be “jolly.”

This book was begun to please a child who loved it as the chapters went on, and called it fondly “ my book.” Before its completion, she vanished for a time from our sight into that unseen world whose light always shone around her ; but still the book is finished, as it was begun, for her.

MARY P. WELLS SMITH.

Avondale, Cincinnati, Ohio, March 20, 1894.

CONTENTS,

Chapter Page

I. Hillside Avenue 7

IT. “A whole Saturday”: the Forenoon . 19

III. “A whole Saturday ” : the Afternoon 35

IV. Clubs 52

V. A Brightside Meeting 62

VI. The Hew Neighbor 74

VII. Hallowe’en 85

VIII. A Ride on Pegasus 99

IX. Lost, Strayed, or Stolen 116

X. Dramatic 126

XI. Christmas Shopping 136

XII. Merry Christmas 152

XIII. “Fun” in the Snow 167

XIV. A Birthday 185

XV. Saint Valentine’s Day 198

XVI. Easter 204

XVII. The Collection Mania 215

XVIII. A Trip to the Farm 232

XIX. Chickens 253

XX. The Concert 262

XXI. “Cherries Ripe” 270

JOLLY GOOD TIMES TO-DAY.

Chapter I. Hillside Avenue

“ TV /TAEGEEY HAYWOOD says she thinks Fri- 1V1 day night is the nicest night in the week,” remarked Amy at the dinner-table one Friday night ; “ and so do I, too.”

“ Why so ? ” asked her father.

“ Because you have a whole Saturday ahead to play in. Oh, I do hope it will be a pleasant day to-morrow ! I ’m going to bed very early to-night.”

“ What, and forsake Elizabeth and Jane ? ” asked her mother.

“ Ye-es,” said Amy, a little doubtfully, for she was intensely interested in reading “ Pride and Prejudice,” “ though they’re in awful trouble just now, and Mr. Collins is so funny. But I must, for I promised Kitty I would get up real early to-morrow morning. We mean to have lots of fun. You will be sure to wake me early, won’t you, mamma ? ”

Mrs. Strong promised, but her aid was not needed ; for the first thing she heard when she woke, Saturday morning, was Kitty Clover’s call under Amy’s window. Kitty had a private signal for Amy not unlike a loud purr.

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

“Pur-r-r,” went Kitty. Then there was the loud, animated barking of a dog, and a boy’s voice said, —

“That’s right, old Duke. Speak up !”

“ Amy ! Oh, Amy ! Amy Strong ! ” called Kitty, when her call brought no response.

“ What is it ? ” came in rather sleepy tones from Amy’s room ; then, more briskly, “ Oh, is it you, Kitty ? All right. I ’ll be down right away.”

There was an unusually brisk flying around in Amy’s room, and presently a tap at Mrs. Strong’s door. “ Can we have breakfast soon, mamma ? I’m in a great hurry.”

“ I am delighted to hear it,” said her mother ; for Amy’s chief fault was a disposition to think that there was always “time enough,” and that it was better to do things “ by and by,” or “ pretty soon,” or “ in a minute,” rather than now. This tendency was made worse by Amy’s passion for reading. Once seated with a book, and Amy was lost to the outside world ; as her mother sometimes said, —

“ You might almost as well try to pull up a tree, roots and all, as move Amy when she is once launched in a book.”

If Mrs. Strong happened to add, “ She is exactly like her father,” Professor Strong looked rather pleased than otherwise ; for Amy was an unusually bright, intelligent child, and the one little daughter was the late blooming flower of his old age. A wise and learned professor, he had married rather late in life a lady much younger than himself, whose lively temperament well supplemented his own slower, graver nature. Three sons had been born to them. One had died in childhood ; the others,

Hillside Avenue.

Sydney and Philip, were grown up, married, and living, Sydney in Boston, and Philip at present in Europe. When the boys were well grown, the Strongs had been delighted by the arrival of the much-longedfor “ little sister/’ whose coming had been despaired of. Had Amy been spoilable, her prospects of being spoiled were certainly as fair as child ever had ; for, besides being peculiarly precious as an only daughter, and the youngest child, bright and precocious mentally, she was delicate and nervous, requiring tenderer care and more indulgence than sturdier children. But Amy’s nature was gentle, sweet, and reasonable, and so she shed all the spoiling.

On account of her health, the Strongs moved out - from the city of Cincinnati to the beautiful hill-top suburb of Edgeton. Hillside Avenue, when they built on it, had only a few scattered houses, and was almost like the real country. The residents kept cows who were pastured on the vacant lots, and they, the hens and ducks, and the Bonds’ pony, rambled about at their own sweet will, sometimes much to the annoyance of Mrs. Strong, who was devoted to flower culture. There were then few children on the avenue, and those of Amy’s age were, unluckily, all boys, so that little Amy had no playmates ; but having never had them, she did not miss them, being perfectly happy in her own inventions. She lived much of the time in an imaginary world of her own, called “ Our Land,” belonging to her and her doll children, and the fairies and brownies. Amy was the Head Princess of Our Land, and wonderful events were always happening there. This land lay, so Amy said, u way, way off in the sky, far beyond heaven.”

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

Amy’s chief servant in Our Land was the Bulusk, and her great enemy the Rub-a-dub, the chief of the Blue Indians, — a savage tribe with whom Amy and her subjects had many conflicts. Terrible fellows were the Blue Indians, if one might believe the pictures that Amy drew and painted of them. Their com plexion was always a deep blue, while their heads bristled with red feathers. Once Amy painted the Rub-a-dub purple. Philip, who was often admitted to the secrets of Our Land, said, —

“ Why, I thought the old fellow was blue.”

“ I made him purple to-day,” said Amy, “ because he feels purple. The Bulusk and Tree-fox — ”

“ Tree-fox ? ” said Philip. “ Who ’s he ? ”

“ Why, did n’t I ever tell you about Tree-fox ? He ’s one of my smartest children in Our Land. He and the Bulusk have just had a terrible battle with the Blue Indians. They drove them back from my palace, and they caught the Rub-a-dub and tortured him with the Giganter.”

“ And what is that, may I ask ? ” said Philip.

“ The Giganter,” said Amy, in the earnest tone of one who relates important facts, “ is my chief instrument of torture. It is shaped like the thing mamma throws powder on her plants with, only it is as big as our house.”

“ I don’t wonder the Rub-a-dub feels purple,” said Philip ; “ I should myself.”

As has been seen, Our Land had a language of its own. One day, when there was turkey for dinner, Amy surprised the family by observing, —

How delicious ! it smells like a billy-gogue.”

“ A what ? ” asked her father, pausing with uplifted carving-knife.

“A billy-gogue; just like synagogue, you know,

Hillside Avenue.

only it ’s billy-gogue. It ’s something we have in Our Land that ’s very nice.”

A favorite book was often described as “ perfectly billy-gogue-ish.” Anything provoking was “ vexious,” anything nice, “luxious.” Amy sometimes said, “Though you see me here, I ’m not; I’m really in Our Land.”

When Philip came home in college vacations, he was Amy’s best playfellow. He built her a nice seat under the big elms, and a still nicer one up high, between a little group of three ailanthus-trees, which seat was the favorite throne of the Head Princess of Our Land, where, far up among the leafy branches, she passed many happy hours. . ^

In Christmas vacation, he made her a wonderful snow-man, and snowballed her, and drew her about on her little sled, making a very fast horse, a little too lively sometimes, when he purposely tipped her off, and Amy, muffled in leggings, wraps, and mittens, rolled helplessly about in the snow. He played the piano and sang to her, “Oh, dem golden slippers,” “Peekabo,” and funny college songs.

But, best of all, Philip was so kind and patient. He would sit at the desk for hours and write down Amy’s poems, as the small poetess sat perched in a big chair beside him, her short legs swinging in the ardor of inspiration, and poured out the “poems.” She had confided to Philip her plans for the future. “ I am going to be a poetess when I grow up, and ride Pegasus, and make him fly higher than he ever went before, way up, past the sky ! ”

Amy would say, “ The name of it, Philip, is ‘ Brooks and Bees.’ Have you written that down ? Now write this. —

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

“Brooks and Bees.

“ In the cool daylight and the dark evening light,

When the sun shines bright and the moon shines bright,

When the owl comes along with a bird or a fowl,

In the dark evening dusk when the bells do ring,

The daylight sings, down below, down below.

Is it so ? Is it so \ Do you know ? Do you know ?

That the daylight has come, under sunny skies of snow 1 Is it so t Is it so ? Do you know 1 Do you know ? "

Philip always rebelled, and refused to write down any more poetry, when it began to run into these repetitions, — a sure sign that inspiration was giving out. He also rebelled on this poem : —

“ One, two, three ;

The winds come from the sea ! ”

“How that begins nicely, Amy,” said Philip. “ Go on, and dictate me a pretty poem.”

Amy continued : —

“ One, two, three, four ;

Roar !

One, two, three, four, five ;

The bees are in the bee-hive.”

Philip persevered until it came to —

“ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight ;

Set the giant on the gate.”

“ That ’s enough of that kind of poetry,” said Philip, laying down the pencil.

“That is dibble-dabble poetry,” said Amy, complacently. “We write it a great deal in Our Land.”

The following poem Philip thought well of, and so

Hillside Avenue.

indeed did Amy, illustrating it with amazing pictures of the lovers, the moon, and the frog : —

“ Down in the shade of an old willow-tree The little brook rushes past ;

And there by the brook two lovers sit,

Dreaming of future and past.

The little frogs warble their singular notes,

And the moon rises over the hill.”

Sometimes, like older poets, she grappled with deep topics, as in this effort : —

“ Beauty is the nature of life,

With its enemies doth it strife.”

A poem that Amy wrote about this time, one night when she and her mother, on a trip east, had missed connections, and were drearily waiting in the Cleveland station for their car, named the “ Peoria,” was justly admired by her family : —

“ Peoria, Peoria,

When wilt thou come In sight ?

Peoria, Peoria,

It ’s getting late At night.

“ Oh, Porter, oh, Porter,

Won’t you please to make My berth 1

Oh, Porter, oh, Porter,

For us there is no pleasant •

Fireside hearth ! ”

Many of the poems were religious, for Amy’s little heart was full of undoubting faith in God and His

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

goodness. When the first snow came, Amy felt moved to dictate this poem, in “ blank ” verse : —

l

The Softly Falling Snowflakes.

Snowflakes falling soft and sweet Make the air full of fragrance.

The softly falling snow comes down In little snowflakes. Oh, what a pretty sight,

To see the branches all plumed with snow,

And the ground covered with its white sheet !

The Lord has sent His angel »

To send a pleasure to His little ones.

Running, skipping, hopping, jumping,

All the pleasant voices ringing Like music through the street.

And still the little snowflakes fall

Pitty-patty on the porch, and on the roofs of the houses. Good-by, all the snowflakes.

Amy’s love of nature shone out, too, in the poems. One pleasant spring morning, she dictated a poem beginning, —

“ Flowers as heaven-bells do ring These bright and cheerful days.”

Dull grown-up people might not perceive the fragrance of the snowflakes, or hear the daylight sing, or the heaven-bells ring, but Amy’s little heart danced to their music all day long.

But all this was when Amy was much younger. She was quite able to write down her own poems now, which was fortunate, for Philip was far away. After graduating at college, he had married a Miss Gladys Van Dyke of New York, a descendant of one of the old Dutch families, and, if one might believe half that Philip wrote of her, the most charming

Hillside Avenue.

creature that ever lucky man was permitted to call his own. She had a wonderful soprano voice ; and as Philip had a fine baritone voice, and his bent was wholly toward music, they had gone abroad to study, and Amy had never yet seen the fascinating new sister.

Amy was sent to kindergarten, where she was very happy ; but her chief happiness was in a dream world of her own. She was always making up fanciful stories, and then illustrating them. Table and writingdesk in the library were often strewn with pictures of fairies, kings and queens, lords and ladies of high degree, while an odor of turpentine and gilt paint, more strong than agreeable, permeated the house. She burrowed in books far beyond her years ; and she was growing up pale and slender, palpably spindling and pining for want of fresh air and exercise. She was apt to have a cough in winter, and was troubled with bad dreams and nervous crying spells. Not being strong enough to attend school, when too old for the kindergarten she studied and recited at home to her parents.

Professor and Mrs. Strong realized that it was not well for Amy to live so much alone, and use her too active brain so hard ; but how should that busy brain be kept more quiet, the slender body built up ?

“ What book is Amy buried in now ? ” asked the professor, as he saw Amy in the library, curled up in a big chair, with a large book, lost to all going on around her.

“ Shakespeare,” said- Mrs. Strong. " ‘ The Merchant of Venice.’ She says Shylock is the most ‘ vexious ’ character she ever knew.”

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

The professor laughed, but said, —

“ It ’s all wrong. She ought to be playing outdoors. It would be a blessing to the child if she could not get hold of a book for a year.”

“ I sometimes think I shall have to adopt a little girl expressly to play with Amy,” said Mrs. Strong.

But now happily the march of progress came to Amy’s rescue. An electric road was built to Edgeton, which had hitherto been connected with the city only by an omnibus line. The three miles to the city became practically a short quarter of a mile. Syndicates began to buy up Edgeton land ; new streets were opened on every side ; and a real-estate “ boom ” struck quiet Hillside Avenue. Handsome modern residences sprang up around the Strongs, until their one acre came to have quite a park-like effect in the thickly settled neighborhood, being the largest open space left on the street. To Mrs. Strong’s delight, the lots each side of their own were bought by friends of theirs, attending the same church. The Clovers bought one side of them, the Carmans the other.

This was all very pleasant, but other phases of the change were not by any means so agreeable. For a time, Hillside Avenue was torn up from one end to the other. On all sides, cellar-holes were being dug, great piles of stone, bricks, and lumber cumbered the ground, while carts hauling earth, and heavy wagons laden with timber, framework, mortar-beds, and what not, wore deep ruts in the street by their steady procession. The profane notes of the “ bosses ” rang on the air from early dawn till six at night; and an army of laborers camped regularly every noon on the Strongs’ front lawn under the shade of the big trees,

Hillside Avenue.

whose lower branches were perpetually ornamented with a variety of coats and dinner-baskets, while brown papers strewed the grass.

This transition period was not at all enjoyed by the Strongs, who often sighed for the old-time peace and country quiet of Hillside Avenue. Hor did they enjoy having the street improved by a big sewer, which went through the middle of the avenue, throwing a mountain of earth out on each side. To her mother’s horror, Amy was discovered, one summer night, in a fresh white frock, walking with some of the other children in the bottom of the sewer ditch, fifteen feet below the surface, the sloping mounts of earth each side rising nearly to the tree branches, looking as if but a breath or jar would send them sliding down on the children far below.

When rescued and asked, “ How could you think of doing such a thing as that, Amy ? ” she replied, —

“ I wanted to see how it seemed to be so far down in the earth. I never had a chance before to go into the earth. It felt warm down there. I think I could feel the heat of the earth’s fires striking through. You know, mamma, this earth is all a ball of fire inside, and where we live is only the eooled-off crust.”

But this happened after Amy had become acquainted with Kitty and Bob Clover, and Elliot Carman, her new neighbors. These were by no means the only children on the avenue. As the population increased, more and more children came to live on the avenue, until it fairly swarmed with them, of all ages and sizes. Indeed, there were said to be forty-four in all, if you counted from the Barrs’ last new baby up to the youngest of the four Trimble boys, 2

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

who was thinking of raising a mustache and entering the medical college. There were the three Neales, — Eonald, Jack, and Phyllis, — Amy’s little cousins, and a most valuable addition to the street, in her opinion ; and Professor Dawson’s three, and the four Paxtons, and the Goldschmidts’ four, and Victor Dana, and Ben Bruce and Paul Williams, and Willie McGrau, and the Herndons, and the Barr boys, and “many others.” No one ever knew exactly how many Barrs there were. The number was supposed to be somewhere about seven, and they were always spoken of collectively as “ the Barr boys.” It is perhaps unnecessary to say that “ a whole Saturday ” on Hillside Avenue was apt to be a lively day.

Although Amy still found time to read, draw, and dream, she lived so much more active a life than formerly, that she was now able to attend school. So she appreciated the freedom of Saturday as much as any of the children. Once started at play, no one played harder than Amy. She threw her whole soul into play, as into all she did.

U A Whole Saturday ” ; the Forenoon. 19

CHAPTEE II.

“ A WHOLE SATURDAY " l THE FORENOON.

S soon as Amy was dressed, she ran outdoors to ijL confer with Kitty and Eob, who were running up and down their driveway, playing with their dog Duke, an Irish setter, with long, silky, reddish hair, — the best-natured, most friendly dog that ever was. When she came in, she asked, —

“Mamma, may I go down to Dr. Taylor's right after breakfast, with Kitty and Eob ? "

“It is rather a long walk for you," said her mother. “ Oh, we 're not going to walk ; we 're going on our tricycles, and Eob on his bicycle. Eob says Bryant Taylor told him yesterday that he has a little alligator of his own. His aunt sent it to him from Florida. We all want to go down and see it."

“Oh," said Mrs. Strong, “if there is an alligator in the case, it becomes important that you should go down, I see. You may go, but do not stay over an hour. Dr. Taylor may be finishing his sermon, and not care for the noise of so many children."

“We shall not make any noise," said Amy. “We are only going to look at the alligator. It must be delightful to have a private alligator of your own."

The children started soon after breakfast. W T hen they came to Mrs. Carman’s, Elliot was out in front of the house, trying to attach Comet, his sister’s great

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

St. Bernard dog, as large as a small cow, to his roller-coaster, by an ingenious arrangement of the family clothes-line.

Elliot somewhat resembled Amy in being, as the only son, who had brought up the rear of a large family of girls, a remarkable child, and much petted. In other respects, he was a great contrast to her, disliking books as much as she loved them. The Carmans were a bookish family. The girls had been tine scholars, and were young ladies of more than ordinary literary taste and ability. They often wondered what unknown ancestor’s blood could have cropped out in Elliot, to make him so loathe the very sight of a book. He was a boy of quick observing powers, overflowing with activity, full of mechanical ability, learned in the habits of animals, easily remembering whatever he saw for himself ; but merely put a book before him, and he fell into so dense a state of stupidity that it seemed wilful obstinacy. The whole family were sometimes worn out by the struggle to worry Elliot’s lessons into his head.

Elliot saw the procession coming down the avenue, and was on the alert at once.

"Hullo, Rob!”

“ Hullo!”

“ Where are you going ? ”

“ Down to Bryant Taylor’s to see his little alligator.”

The word “ alligator ” was enough for Elliot. He flew into the house, wrung a hasty permission from his mother, and was soon making his feet fly, pushing on his bicycle to overtake the other children, who had already turned the corner into Grand Avenue. A bright-looking little procession it was, as it dashed merrily on in the October sunshine, the cool, fresh morning air and the vigorous exercise bringing a pink tinge even to Amy’s cheeks, and making Kitty’s glow like a red, red rose.

Amy, who looked not unlike Alice in Wonderland, had long golden hair, light and waving, which she usually wore flowing over her shoulders, drawn back from her forehead with a round comb, exactly like Alice’s. The shining hair flew out on the breeze made by their swift motion, like a web of the sunshine itself. Kitty was a brunette, with large brown eyes, and thick, dark-brown hair, cut short because Kitty had the typhoid fever last summer, but flying out in half-curls all around her head. Kitty was strong and sturdy, and very fond of play. Kob was fond of reading, but Kitty cared little for books. A sweet-tempered, loving, happy, healthy child, full of vigor and spirits, Mrs. Strong might well feel herself fortunate to have secured such a little neighbor and playmate for Amy. The two girls were inseparable. Each seemed to furnish what the other lacked ; and they loved each other all the more because they were so different. Kob was a natural, human boy, warmhearted and quick-tempered.

The children soon turned into Chestnut Street, and brought up at Dr. Taylor’s gate. They found Bryant, who was a natural worker, always tremendously in earnest about something, dressed in a little pair of blue overalls, hard at work with a small wheelbarrow, wheeling earth from a pile in the street up a plank into his father’s yard, assisted by his rosy-cheeked little brother, Stanley. At least Stanley evidently considered that he was helping.

Jolly Good Times To-Day.

“ Hullo, Bryant ! ” cried the children, as they bore down upon him. “ What are you doing ? ”

“ Filling up mother’s flower-beds,” said Bryant.

“ And I am helping him,” said Stanley.

“ Can we see your alligator ? ”

“ Why, yes, I can stop a little while, I guess,” said Bryant, with all the importance of a real business man. “ Come into the house.”

“ Where do you keep him ? ” asked Elliot.

“He’s up in father’s study now, but father doesn’t want him there very much.”

“ I should think you would make a pond for him in the back yard,” said Kitty. “We’ll all help you dig it.”

“Oh, yes,” said Amy, “wouldn’t that be nice? You might put rocks around it with vines running all over them, and set out little trees and flowers around it, and perhaps you could have a waterfall splashing into the pond, and it would look so wild and tropical to see him in there.”

“ Pooh ! ” said Elliot ; “ much you girls know about alligators. They are used to a hot climate, and they have to be kept in the house where it ’s warm.”

“ Of course they do,” said Bryant, “ in cold weather. That ’s why my alligator ’s in father’s study. Mother wants me to give him to the Zoo, and perhaps I will, when he gets bigger.”

Dr. Taylor, who was, as Mrs. Strong had foreseen, giving the finishing touches to his sermon, was somewhat surprised to be roused from his absorbing work by the invasion of six children, but greeted his little parishioners cordially, nevertheless, and they hastened to the alligator’s corner of the study. The alligator, who was about five inches long, was in a tin crackerbox filled with water, which stood in a larger wooden box. A grand pow-wow of admiration arose from the children over his charms.

Presently Dr. Taylor made this unselfish proposal, —

“ Bryant,” lie said, “ the sun is shining so brightly by the back door, I think you can safely take the alligator down there now, and give him a little fresh air and sunshine. The children can examine him more easily there, too.”

Accordingly, the alligator was taken outdoors, and out of his box upon the grass. Then the boys tried experiments on him, to see how he would act. They poked him with little sticks and stirred him up ; and the alligator opened his great jaws until his whole head yawned, snapping angrily about, and lashing his tail furiously.

“What do you think of him, Amy?” asked Mrs. Taylor, amused by the expression of Amy’s face, as she stood, shrinking back, yet fascinated by the strange look of the tropical creature.

“ I think he is very interesting, but very disagreeable,” said Amy, anxious to be, at the same time, polite but truthful.

When the children left for home, they secured Bryant’s promise that he would come up to the Clovers’ to play as soon as he had finished his job, for which his mother was to pay him good wages.

Elliot went home feeling that his whole future happiness depended - on having a little alligator, and he beset his mother to order one at once from Florida. His mother refused to be enthusiastic about his new pet ; his sisters laughed ; and Grandma Gaylord was horrified.

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“An alligator in this house ! ” she exclaimed. “ What won’t that boy want next ? ”

“I don’t see where you could keep him, Elliot,” said his mother.