The Book of Joyous Children | Page 7

me, 'til I be?Purt'-nigh strip-pud--nen hug me?In bofe arms an' lif' me 'way?Up in her high bed--an' pray?Wiv me,--'bout my Ma--an' Pa--?An' ole Santy Claus--an' Sleigh--?An' Reindeers an' little Drum--?Yes, an' Picture-books, "Tom Thumb,"?An' "Three Bears," an' ole "Fee-Faw"--
Yes, an' "Tweedle-Dee" an' "Dum,"?An' "White Knight" an' "Squidjicum,"?An' most things you ever saw!--
An' when A'nty kissed me, she?'Uz all cryin' over me!
Don't want Santy Claus--ner things?Any kind he ever brings!--?Don't want A'nty!--Don't want Pa!--?I ist only want my Ma!

"OLD BOB WHITE"
Old Bob White's a funny bird!--?Funniest you ever heard!--?Hear him whistle,--"Old--Bob--White!"?You can hear him, clean from where?He's 'way 'crosst the wheat-field there,?Whistlin' like he didn't care--
"Old-Bob-White!"

[Illustration: WHEN WE DROVE TO HARMONY]

Whistles alluz ist the same--?So's we won't fergit his name!--?Hear him say it?--"Old--Bob--White!"?There! he's whizzed off down the lane--?Gone back where his folks is stayin'--?Hear him?--There he goes again,--
"Old--Bob--White!"
When boys ever tries to git?Clos't to him--how quick he'll quit?Whistlin' his "Old-Bob--White!"?"Whoo-rhoo-rhoo!" he's up an' flew,?Ist a-purt'-nigh skeerin' you?Into fits!--'At's what he'll do.--
"Old-Bob--White!"
Wunst our Hired Man an' me,?When we drove to Harmony,?Saw one, whistlin' "Old--Bob--White!"?An' we drove wite clos't, an' I?Saw him an' he didn't fly,--?Birds likes horses, an' that's why.
"Old--Bob--White!"
One time, Uncle Sidney says,?Wunst he rob' a Bob White's nes'?Of the eggs of "Old Bob White";?Nen he hatched 'em wiv a hen?An' her little chicks, an' nen?They ist all flewed off again!
"Old--Bob--White!"

A SESSION WITH UNCLE SIDNEY
[1869]
I
ONE OF HIS ANIMAL STORIES
Now, Tudens, you sit on this knee--and 'scuse?It having no side-saddle on;--and, Jeems,?You sit on this--and don't you wobble so?And chug my old shins with your coppertoes;--?And, all the rest of you, range round someway,--?Ride on the rockers and hang to the arms?Of our old-time splint-bottom carryall!--?Do anything but squabble for a place,?Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe out loud,?Or chew wet, or knead taffy in my beard!--?Do any_thing almost--act _anyway,--?Only keep still, so I can hear myself?Trying to tell you "just one story more!"
One winter afternoon my father, with?A whistle to our dog, a shout to us--?His two boys--six and eight years old we were,--?Started off to the woods, a half a mile?From home, where he was chopping wood. We raced,?We slipped and slid; reaching, at last, the north?Side of Tharp's corn-field.--There we struck what seemed?To be a coon-track--so we all agreed:?And father, who was not a hunter, to?Our glad surprise, proposed we follow it.?The snow was quite five inches deep; and we,?Keen on the trail, were soon far in the woods.?Our old dog, "Ring," ran nosing the fresh track?With whimpering delight, far on ahead.?After following the trail more than a mile?To northward, through the thickest winter woods?We boys had ever seen,--all suddenly?He seemed to strike another trail; and then?Our joyful attention was drawn to?Old "Ring"--leaping to this side, then to that,?Of a big, hollow, old oak-tree, which had?Been blown down by a storm some years before.?There--all at once--out leapt a lean old fox?From the black hollow of a big bent limb,--?Hey! how he scudded!--but with our old "Ring"?Sharp after him--and father after "Ring"--?We after father, near as we could hold!?And father noticed that the fox kept just?About four feet ahead of "Ring"--just that--?No farther, and no nearer! Then he said:--?"There are young foxes in that tree back there,

[Illustration: "A BIG, HOLLOW, OLD OAK-TREE, WHICH HAD BEEN BLOWN DOWN BY A STORM."]

And the mother-fox is drawing 'Ring' and us?Away from their nest there!" "Oh, le' 's go back!--?Do le' 's go back!" we little vandals cried,--?"Le' 's go back, quick, and find the little things--?Please, father!--Yes, and take 'em home for pets--?'Cause 'Ring' he'll kill the old fox anyway!"?So father turned at last, and back we went,?And father chopped a hole in the old tree?About ten feet below the limb from which?The old fox ran, and--Bless their little lives!--?There, in the hollow of the old tree-trunk--?There, on a bed of warm dry leaves and moss--?There, snug as any bug in any rug--?We found--one--two--three--four, and, yes-sir, five?Wee, weenty-teenty baby-foxes, with?Their eyes just barely opened--Cute?--my-oh!--?The cutest--the most cunning little things?Two boys ever saw, in all their lives!?"Raw weather for the little fellows now!"?Said father, as though talking to himself,--?"Raw weather, and no home now!"--And off came?His warm old "waumus"; and in that he wrapped?The helpless little animals, and held?Them soft and warm against him as he could,--?And home we happy children followed him.--?Old "Ring" did not reach home till nearly dusk:?The mother-fox had led him a long chase--
"Yes, and a fool's chase, too!" he seemed to say,?And looked ashamed to hear us praising him.?But, mother_--well, we _could not understand?Her_ acting as she did--and we so _pleased!?I can see yet the look of pained surprise?And deep compassion of her troubled face?When father very gently laid his coat,?With the young foxes in it, on the hearth?Beside her, as she brightened up the fire.?She urged--for the old fox's sake and theirs--?That they be taken