A Child-World | Page 8

as a bee?Loves a great ripe red apple--utterly.?For Noey's ruddy morning-face she drew?The window-blind, and tapped the window, too;?Afar she hailed his coming, as she heard?His tuneless whistling--sweet as any bird?It seemed to her, the one lame bar or so?Of old "Wait for the Wagon"--hoarse and low?The sound was,--so that, all about the place,?Folks joked and said that Noey "whistled bass"--?The light remark originally made?By Cousin Rufus, who knew notes, and played?The flute with nimble skill, and taste as wall,?And, critical as he was musical,?Regarded Noey's constant whistling thus?"Phenominally unmelodious."?Likewise when Uncle Mart, who shared the love?Of jest with Cousin Rufus hand-in-glove,?Said "Noey couldn't whistle 'Bonny Doon'?Even! and, he'd bet, couldn't carry a tune?If it had handles to it!"
--But forgive?The deviations here so fugitive,?And turn again to Little Lizzie, whose?High estimate of Noey we shall choose?Above all others.--And to her he was?Particularly lovable because?He laid the woodland's harvest at her feet.--?He brought her wild strawberries, honey-sweet?And dewy-cool, in mats of greenest moss?And leaves, all woven over and across?With tender, biting "tongue-grass," and "sheep-sour,"?And twin-leaved beach-mast, prankt with bud and flower?Of every gypsy-blossom of the wild,?Dark, tangled forest, dear to any child.--?All these in season. Nor could barren, drear,?White and stark-featured Winter interfere?With Noey's rare resources: Still the same?He blithely whistled through the snow and came?Beneath the window with a Fairy sled;?And Little Lizzie, bundled heels-and-head,?He took on such excursions of delight?As even "Old Santy" with his reindeer might?Have envied her! And, later, when the snow?Was softening toward Springtime and the glow?Of steady sunshine smote upon it,--then?Came the magician Noey yet again--?While all the children were away a day?Or two at Grandma's!--and behold when they?Got home once more;--there, towering taller than?The doorway--stood a mighty, old Snow-Man!
A thing of peerless art--a masterpiece?Doubtless unmatched by even classic Greece?In heyday of Praxiteles.--Alone?It loomed in lordly grandeur all its own.?And steadfast, too, for weeks and weeks it stood,?The admiration of the neighborhood?As well as of the children Noey sought?Only to honor in the work he wrought.?The traveler paid it tribute, as he passed?Along the highway--paused and, turning, cast?A lingering, last look--as though to take?A vivid print of it, for memory's sake,?To lighten all the empty, aching miles?Beyond with brighter fancies, hopes and smiles.?The cynic put aside his biting wit?And tacitly declared in praise of it;?And even the apprentice-poet of the town?Rose to impassioned heights, and then sat down?And penned a panegyric scroll of rhyme?That made the Snow-Man famous for all time.
And though, as now, the ever warmer sun?Of summer had so melted and undone?The perishable figure that--alas!--?Not even in dwindled white against the grass--?Was left its latest and minutest ghost,?The children yet--materially, almost--?Beheld it--circled 'round it hand-in-hand--?(Or rather 'round the place it used to stand)--?With "Ring-a-round-a-rosy! Bottle full?O' posey!" and, with shriek and laugh, would pull?From seeming contact with it--just as when?It was the real-est of old Snow-Men.
"A NOTED TRAVELER"
Even in such a scene of senseless play?The children were surprised one summer-day?By a strange man who called across the fence,?Inquiring for their father's residence;?And, being answered that this was the place,?Opened the gate, and with a radiant face,?Came in and sat down with them in the shade?And waited--till the absent father made?His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest?That told he had no ordinary guest?In this man whose low-spoken name he knew?At once, demurring as the stranger drew?A stuffy notebook out and turned and set?A big fat finger on a page and let?The writing thereon testify instead?Of further speech. And as the father read?All silently, the curious children took?Exacting inventory both of book?And man:--He wore a long-napped white fur-hat?Pulled firmly on his head, and under that?Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray--?For he was not an old man,--anyway,?Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair?Of square-framed spectacles--or rather there?Were two more than a pair,--the extra two?Flared at the corners, at the eyes' side-view,?In as redundant vision as the eyes?Of grasshoppers or bees or dragonflies.?Later the children heard the father say?He was "A Noted Traveler," and would stay?Some days with them--In which time host and guest?Discussed, alone, in deepest interest,?Some vague, mysterious matter that defied?The wistful children, loitering outside?The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite?New list of big words--such as "Disunite,"?And "Shibboleth," and "Aristocracy,"?And "Juggernaut," and "Squatter Sovereignty,"?And "Anti-slavery," "Emancipate,"?"Irrepressible conflict," and "The Great?Battle of Armageddon"--obviously?A pamphlet brought from Washington, D. C.,?And spread among such friends as might occur?Of like views with "The Noted Traveler."
A PROSPECTIVE VISIT
While any day was notable and dear?That gave the children Noey, history here?Records his advent emphasized indeed?With sharp italics, as he came to feed?The stock one special morning, fair and bright,?When Johnty and Bud met him, with delight?Unusual even as their extra dress--?Garbed as for holiday, with much excess?Of proud self-consciousness and vain conceit?In their new finery.--Far up the street?They called to Noey, as he came, that they,?As promised, both