Aunt Jos Scrap-Bag, Vol. 5

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Jo's Scrap-Bag, Vol. 5, by Louisa M. Alcott

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Title: Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Vol. 5 Jimmy's Cruise in the Pinafore, Etc.
Author: Louisa M. Alcott
Release Date: August 4, 2007 [EBook #22234]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.
VOL V.
JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE, ETC.
BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES."
BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTHERS. 1880.
Copyright, BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 1879.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SIR JOSEPH PORTER, K.C.B.]
I am the monarch of the Sea, The ruler of the Queen's Navee,-- When at anchor here I ride, My bosom swells with pride, And I snap my fingers at a foeman's taunts.
[Illustration: COUSIN HEBE.]
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts His sisters and his cousins! Whom he reckons by the dozens, And his aunts!
[Illustration: RALPH RACKSTRAW.]
"I am the lowliest tar That sails the water. And you, proud maiden, are My captain's daughter."
[Illustration: JOSEPHINE.]
"Refrain, audacious tar. Your suit from pressing; Remember what you are, And whom addressing."
[Illustration: LITTLE BUTTERCUP.]
For I am called Little Buttercup,--dear Little Buttercup, Though I never could tell why; But still I'm called Buttercup,--poor Little Buttercup, Sweet Little Buttercup I!
[Illustration: CAPTAIN CORCORAN.]
Fair moon, to thee I sing Bright regent of the heavens; Say, why is every thing Either at sixes or at sevens!
[Illustration: BILL BOBSTAY, THE BOS'N]
He is an Englishman! For he himself has said it, And it's greatly to his credit That he is an Englishman.
[Illustration: DICK DEADEYE.]
"I'm ugly too, aint I?"
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
I. JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE 5
II. TWO LITTLE TRAVELLERS 27
III. A JOLLY FOURTH 38
IV. SEVEN BLACK CATS 52
V. ROSA'S TALE 67
VI. LUNCH 89
VII. A BRIGHT IDEA 105
VIII. HOW THEY CAMPED OUT 119
IX. MY LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL 141
X. WHAT A SHOVEL DID 154
XI. CLAMS 168
XII. KITTY'S CATTLE SHOW 182
XIII. WHAT BECOMES OF THE PINS 189
[Illustration: TOM TUCKER, MIDSHIPMITE.]

AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.

I.
JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE.
HOW HE SHIPPED.
A boy sat on a door-step in a despondent attitude, with his eyes fixed on a pair of very shabby shoes, and his elbows resting on his knees, as if to hide the big patches there. But it was not the fact that his toes were nearly out and his clothes dilapidated which brought the wrinkles to his forehead and the tears to his eyes, for he was used to that state of things, and bore it without complaint. The prospect was a dull one for a lively lad full of the spring longings which sunny April weather always brings. But it was not the narrow back-street where noisy children played and two or three dusty trees tried to bud without sunshine, that made him look so dismal. Nor was it the knowledge that a pile of vests was nearly ready for him to trudge away with before he could really rest after doing many errands to save mother's weary feet.
No, it was a burden that lay very heavily on his heart, and made it impossible to even whistle as he waited. Above the sounds that filled the street he heard a patient moan from the room within; and no matter what object his eyes rested on, he saw with sorrowful distinctness a small white face turned wistfully toward the window, as if weary of the pillow where it had laid so long.
Merry little Kitty, who used to sing and dance from morning till night, was now so feeble and wasted that he could carry her about like a baby. All day she lay moaning softly, and her one comfort was when "brother" could come and sing to her. That night he could not sing; his heart was so full, because the doctor had said that the poor child must have country air as soon as possible, else she never would recover from the fever which left her such a sad little ghost of her former self. But, alas, there was no money for the trip, and mother was sewing day and night to earn enough for a week at least of blessed country air and quiet. Jimmy did his best to help, but could find very little to do, and the pennies came in so slowly he was almost in despair.
There was no father to lend a strong hand, and