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BRAGGADOCIO:

A BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRIS.

BY

MRS. L. C. TUTHILL.

“ Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is better.”
Oup Provers.

NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET.
1851.
<select diltisalilih eananiitesangenaitiinnennnitipnctinipaninaisnnamencunestes
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1951, by

CHARLES SCRIBNER,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Southern District of New York.

 

Cc. W. BENEDICT,
STEREOTYPER AND PRINTER,
201 William Street, N. Y.
CONTENTS.

PAGE.

Cuap. l—Tue Dear Litttzr Istanp, . . . 5
‘Cuap. Il.—Tue Boat, ‘ . 11
Cuap. III.—A Goop Day’s Work,. . . 15
Cuap. [V.—Curerrut Work,. . . . . 2

Cuap. V.—Tue Cramers or CRAMERVILLE, - &
Cuar. VI.—Youne J vn cs oe es

Cuap. VII.—Tue Wark 1n Broapway, . . aa
Cuar. VIII.—Srgeinc tue Museum, .
Cuap. [X.—Tue Return to CRaAMERVILLE,
Cuap. X.—Launcuine THE Boar, .

Cuap. XI,—Bessiz’s Istanp, .
1v CONTENTS.

Cuap. XII.—Bessiz’s Visit to Rosz Lawn,
Cuap. XIII.—Busy Besstz, . . ‘
Cuap. XIV.—First Earnines, a,
Cuap. XV.—Cuoosine Aa PROFESSION, .«
Cuar. XVI.—Tue New Tutor, . + +

¢

_Cuapr. XVII.—Payine tHe Rent, . .

Cuar. XVIII. —Tue Fourru or Juty,
Cuar. XIX.—Roeurs! Rocgurs, . . .-
Cuar. XX.—Skatine ON THE River, . .-
Cuar. XXI.—A Separation, .
Cuar. XXII.—Tue Dasnine Youne FRESHMAN,
Cuar. XXIII.—A Surprise, she

Conctupine CHaPTeER,

PAGE

99

117

129

138

152

158

175

86

190

200

206

211

219
BRAGGADOCIO.

 

CHAPTER I.

THE DEAR LITTLE ISLAND.

“On, if we could only get over to that
island, Tom, wouldn’t we be glad ?” ,

“We can get over; there’s no such thing as
can’t, Bessie.”

“ But how ?”

“Tl build a boat that will take us over.”

66 You 979

“ Yes, sure as a gun, I'll build you a boat.”

Bessie laughed, and clapped her hands with
delight.

Tom Mixon was a stout boy, fourteen years
6 BRAGGADOCIO.

old, and his sister was a year or two younger.
He had been used to hard work, and what is
more, he liked to work.

The island lay in the middle of the river
Ousa, arapid and beautiful stream which dashed
through the village of Cramerville. Tom and
his sister had long admired the island with its
few trees and shrubs, and now it was decided
that they would go over and take possession of
it. Easier said than done. However, Tom had
resolved that it should be done, and his favorite
saying was, “ Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast
is a better.”

Tom’s father was a dyer in the mills at
Cramerville; he was a mere laborer, directed
by others, knowing nothing himself of the
chemical process by which colors were made.
He was an industrious, uneducated man, who
had, however, the good sense to value an edu-
cation, and sent his two children to school in
winter, when he could spare their time. This
was not an easy matter, for his wife was dead,
and he had no one to keep house for him but
little Bessie.

The first thing that Tom set about, after he
THE DEAR LITTLE ISLAND. 7

had decided to build the boat, was to find wood’
for the purpose.

“Can’t you make a canoe, as Robinson
Crusoe did ?” asked Bessie.

“No; for I can’t find a log of wood big
enough; and besides, if I had a big log, it
would take a great while to dig it out. We
must be contented with a flat-bottomed scow,
till I can find crooked timber fo build a boat
ship-shape and Bristol fashion.”

The children cast one longing look towards
the beloved island, upon which the shadows of
evening were falling, and then turned their
steps homeward.

“Tam afraid I shall be too late to on father’s
supper ready, when he comes home; let us
hurry as fast as we can,” said Bessie, starting
upon a full run.

In about ten minutes they reached the house,
and found to their great joy that their father
had not yet returned from work. It was a
small brown house by the road-side, with two
rooms below and two above. One of these
lower rooms was a kitchen, and the other was
called Bessie’s parlor. The upper, or garret
8, BRAGGADOCIO.

rooms, were the bed-rooms of Branton Mixon,
or, as he was called, Bran Mixon, and his son
Tom.

The kitchen fire had gone out, and Tom ran
to gather some chips to kindle it with, while
Bessie laid the wood in order, and filled the
tea-kettle with water. She then washed some
potatoes and put them into an iron pot; then
Tom came in.

“ How long you have stayed,” said Bessie ;
“hurry, hurry, for father will surely be home
before these potatoes are done.”

“The reason why I have been such a long
time is, that I came across something that will
do right well for our boat.”

“ Don’t let us talk about the boat now, Tom.
Kindle up the fire, quick, quick.”

“ But I can talk and work too; I tell you,
Bessie, the slabs that father bought yesterday
will be just the thing for our boat. I have
thought how I can nail them together, and as
soon as we have done supper I will draw a plan
of the thing.

Bessie now spread a clean coarse cloth upon
the kitchen table, and set cups and saucers and
THE DEAR LITTLE ISLAND. 9

plates in order for three. She then went into a
small pantry in which were kept all the pro-
visions belonging to the family, and brought
out a loaf of brown bread, and some butter as
yellow as a dandelion.

“This fire will never burn,” said Tom,
impatiently, as the dull smoke went up the
wide chimney.

“The chips are green,” said Bessie ; «“ go and
pick up some dry stuff.”

Tom went out, but did not return immediate-
ly. Bessie ran to the door, and called him.
There, at a short distance from the house, was
Tom, standing by a pile of slabs, which had
been sawed from timber, and had still the
rough bark on one side of them.

“ Come, Tom, come; the fire is the thing to
be minded now. There is father coming over
the hill, and supper not ready!” Bessie flew
into the house, cast a troubled glance at the
smoking chips, and then went into the pantry.
Soon she re-appeared with a dish of cold pork,
and placed it upon the table. By this time
Tom was on his hands and knees, blowing the
fire with all his might to coax it into a blaze.
10 BRAGGADOCIO.

The father stopped by the well to wash his
face and hands; but all the scrubbing and
scouring would not take out the blue stains
which discolored them. Bran Mixon was not
more than forty years old. In his Sunday
clothes he was quite a decent-looking person ;
but in his working dress—a coarse, blue cot-
ton, carman’s frock, and wide trowsers of the
same material—he looked like any other day-
laborer, excepting that he had a remarkably
good-natured face.

When Mixon came into the kitchen, the fire
was brightly blazing, and its cheerful light,
and Bessie’s smile, were a pleasant welcome.
A few chairs, a tall wooden clock in one cor-
ner, and two tables, were all the furniture the
kitchen could boast. A large white and brown
dog lay before the fire, enjoying an evening
nap, and the tea-kettle was singing a cheerful
tune. Altogether, the neat kitchen was as
comfortable as the home of a poor man well
could be. :

Bessie, as she placed a chair for him, said,

“You will have to wait a little while for
supper, father. Tom and I went down to the
AS

~Y

 

Fe al ake es 3
THE DEAR LITTLE ISLAND. 11

river-this afternoon, and stayed too long; the
potatoes are not done yet.”

“T am as hungry as a bear; but I can wait
patiently, my little Bessie,” he replied, with
perfect good humor.

Tom wisely thought this was not a suitable
time to ask for the slabs, and seating himself
quietly in a corner, took out of his pocket a
piece of chalk, and on the bottom of a wooden
chair drew the plan of his boat.

The supper was at length ready, and it was
enjoyed with a keen relish.

It was a cool evening early in April; and
after supper it was pleasant to draw up to the
fire. 3

Bessie washed the dishes, and then set out
a little round table, which she called a candle-
stand, on one side the fire-place. She then
placed a candle upon it, and sat down with
her knitting beside it.

Mixon took off his coarse, heavy shoes, and
making himself comfortable in an arm-chair,
soon fell asleep.

It was a bright moonlight night. Tom went
12 BRAGGADOCIO.

out to the wood-pile, selected the slabs suitable
for his boat, and laid them together. He then
cut a bean-pole into two pieces, one for the
length of the boat, and the other for the width.
“ Now,” said he to himself, “ the thing is just
half done; for mother used to say, ‘ Well be-
gun is half done.’ ”

What a loss was that good, sensible mother,
to those two poor children! They remembered
her sayings, and liked to follow them. Oh!
how precious was everything that once be-
longed to that departed mother! Mixon was
an easy, good-natured soul, far inferior in mind
and character to the wife he had lost; but yet,
he was steady and industrious, and a kind,
indulgent father.

Tom came in just as Mixon awoke from his
comfortable nap.

“ Well, Tom,” said he, “did you do up all
the jobs I set you to-day ?”

“Yes, I did; and got through at four
o’clock.”

“Did you dig the beds, and plant all the
beans and the peas ?” |

“Yes; every one of them. Bessie dropped
THE DEAR LITTLE -ISLAND. 13

them for me, and we had done at four o’clock.
Then we went down to the river; and you
know the pretty island , just in the middle of
the stream. Bessie and I long to go over to
it; and I am going to build a boat, if you will
give me some of the slabs out in the wood-
yard.”

“A boat! boy! You might as well make
a candle out of a long turnip. You never can
make a boat out of them slabs.”

“T can try; there’s nothing like trying.”

“Well, you can try; but a queer craft it
will be. I am afraid Bessie and you will get
drownded.” |

“No, father, I hope not. I won’t go in the
boat when it is done, if you don’t say it is
safe,” said Bessie.

“That’s right, my good little Bess; you do
take after your mother. Now, as you set there
knitting, you look wonderful like her, too. She
was sartainly the smartest woman, and the best
‘woman, that ever lived. And now, Bessie,
take your little Bible, and read a chapter, as
she teached you to do; and then we will go to
bed.”
14 BRAGGADOCIO.

Bessie put up her knitting, and read the
chapter; and then the three knelt, and re-
peated together the Lord’s Prayer.
CHAPTER II.
THE BOAT.

Tom’s work during the summer, was to take
care of a garden, and a field of potatoes, corn,
and pumpkins. He had two pigs to feed, the
fire-wood to cut and carry in, and in various
ways to help Bessie. Every morning, before
Mixon went to the mills, he set Tom his task
for the day: when that was done he could
amuse himself as he chose. Right heartily
did Tom go to work early the next morning.
It was only six o’clock when breakfast was
ready, and he had been working a whole hour.
After breakfast, Bessie put up her father’s din-
ner in a tin kettle, and he went off, as usual,
for the day. She then put the house all in
order, covered up the fire, and was ready by
ten o’clock to go out and help Tom.
16 BRAGGADOCIO.

“What shall I do?” said she; “I can work
with you till dinner time.”

“Don’t let us have any dinner till we get
through my task.”

“Oh, yes, we must have our dinner, Tom,
as we always do, at twelve o’clock. Don’t you
know, mother used to say that there is a time
for everything, and that we should do every-
thing at the right time. We shouldn’t gain
anything by putting off our dinner.”

“You are a wise child, Bessie. You may
make the holes for the beet seed,in that bed
there. See, how nice it looks! And then you
may drop two seeds in each hole.”

* Why two?”

*¢ Because one may be a bad seed. You see
I have measured it all off into squares, and
you must make-the holes where the squares
meet.”

And Bessie worked, and talked, and laughed,
in the garden till the clock struck twelve, and
then she said, “ Come, Tom, don’t wait a
minute. Dinner is all ready on the table.”

And sure enough it was—brown bread and
two bowls of milk, and some cold sausages,
THE BOAT. 17

saved from the breakfast. Tom soon came in,
and put upon the table some fresh water-
eresses, which he had gathered and washed;
and the children sat down to their meal. They
enjoyed it, as those only can who have good
health, and the keen appetite that hard work
bestows. ‘They had dinner enough, and a
plenty besides for Sancho, Tom’s dog. Bessie
had raked open the fire to heat some water,
that she might wash the dinner dishes.

‘“‘ Never mind the dishes now; leave them
till supper time,” said Tom.

“No; remember, ‘ A time for everything.’
It will take me only a few minutes, and then I
will run down the garden and help you. See
how sorrowful Sancho looks, because you
whipped him for coming into the garden—
poor fellow !” |

“ Poor fellow!” responded Tom, snapping
his fingers to the brown and white dog, who
had eaten his dinner, and now stood looking at
his young master with a half-frightened, half.
ashamed expression. “Poor fellow! you-make
too many tracks in the garden with those
naughty “ ; I can’t have yoy there, Sancho.”
18 BRAGGADOCIO.

The dog, delighted with the kind tone,
jumped upon his master, and licked his hand.

“Take him with you, Tom, and teach him
to lie down while you work. You know dogs
can be taught almost anything. It seems hard
to shut up the poor thing all day.”

“Well, Pll try. Come, Sancho.” And the
dog frisked and wagged his tail, overjoyed to
be once more restored to favor. It was some
time before he could be made to lie down
quietly, while Tom went on with his work ;
and the boy becoming quite impatient, began
scolding violently at losing so much time,
when Bessie came running down the garden.
She caressed and coaxed the dog, and by her
gentle manner succeeded far better than Tom
had done by his violent means. Sancho
stretched himself out on the ground, and lay-
ing his head between his fore paws, remained
perfectly quiet.

Just as the kitchen clock struck three, Tom
had finished his task. He shouldered his
spade, rake, and hoe, and marched off with
them, while Bessie seized hold of one of San-
cho’s long ears, and led him out of the garden,
THE BOAT. 19

saying, “ Now, remember, Sancho, you must
not put your paws on the nice beds in the
garden ; you must learn to walk in the paths,
like folks.”

“ Now for the boat! the boat!” exclaimed
Tom, as he placed his garden tools in the back
shed. Sancho was allowed to frisk and frolic
as much as he pleased in the wood-yard ; but
little attention did he get that afternoon.

“Run and get me a piece of cord for a
line,” said Tom.

Bessie brought out a nice piece of cord,
which had been a long time saved up for
use.

“Great things can be done with a line and
a piece of chalk,” remarked Tom, as he drew
the chalk over the cord. ‘“ You see, Bessie, I
am going to bring these rough slabs into shape.
Now, hold on while I mark these off, the size I
want them. With a chalked line, a saw, an
axe, and a hatchet, a fellow can build almost
anything. I wish I had a plane, too.”

So saying, Tom went to work at the rough
slabs, to bring them into the right size and
shape. So hard did he work, that he was
20 BRAGGADOCIO.

obliged to take off his coat, and now and then
he drew his shirt-sleeve across his forehead, to
_ wipe off the drops of perspiration. But it was
pleasant work for all that; and Bessie looked
on with delight to see how ingeniously her
brother brought the rough wood into shape.
How he got the right slope, so that the pieces
at the sides and the ends of the boat would
match together, seemed to her wonderful ; and
it did require some skill, and some knowledge
of geometry, too, though Tom had studied
very little geometry. At sunset, Tom was
obliged to leave, to take care of the pigs, who
were grunting for their supper.
CHAPTER III.
A GOOD DAY’S WORK.

Tue next day it rained as hard as it could
pour.

“Very good for the garden, and capital for
my boat,” said Tom. He brought the pieces
that he had sawed off the day before, into the
back shed, and went to work to smooth them
at the edges, and fit them together. The boat
was to be six feet long and three feet wide—a
small affair, to be sure, but large enough to car-
ry Bessie and him over to the beloved island.
He worked hard all day, and at night the
pieces were smoothed and nearly ready to be
put together; but Tom had no nails. What was
to be done? Where was he to get the money
to buy them? He said to Bessie: “I'll tell
you what I can do. I will ask father to let
22 BRAGGADOCIO.

me go down into the village, with a basketful
of my nice spinach. I can sell it and buy
some nails, and some tar to caulk the boat.”

“Tar to caulk the boat! What do you
mean by that, Tom ?”

“There will be cracks in my boat which
will need to be filled up, and I must have
some tar and oakum for that. I have found
some pieces of old rope, and to-night we will
pick them up fine for oakum.”

“J have heard of the poor folks in the alms-
house picking oakum, but I never knew what
it meant before,” said Bessie.

“Live and learn, Bessie. It will do no
harm on the kitchen floor, for we can sweep
up afterwards ; so, after supper I will bring in
the ropes, and we will have them picked up in
less than no time.”

“Supper! That reminds me that I must
not be too late again to-night; these chips are
dry and handy.” So saying, Bessie filled her
apron with the chips Tom had cut from the
slabs, and went into the kitchen.

Tom stood looking at the planks he had
been working upon, and muttered to himself,
A GOOD DAY’S WORK. 23

“ A yrough-looking craft this will be. The
edges where I’ve used the saw do quite well,
but where I’ve chipped off the bark the planks
are as rough as a corduroy road.”

While he was thus musing and muttering,
Bran Mixon came home. As usual, he stopped
at the well to wash himself, though it would
seem as if the rain might have done him that
kind office, for it was pouring down in tor-
rents.

“Well, Tom,” said he, as he scrubbed his
hands, “ how do you come on with the scow ?”

“'The boat, father—call it a boat. Not quite
as well as I should wish ; it’s a mighty rough
affair.” :

Bessie now opened the door, and said,
“Come in, father—come in; here is a towel
and some dry clothes.” And, to be sure, the
thoughtful little girl had got out a complete
suit of clothes, and laid them in his bed-room,
that her father might take off his wet garments
immediately.

“Pm as wet as a drown’d rat,” said he ;
‘and well it is for me that I have somebody at
home to think about my comfort.”
94 BRAGGADOCIO.

Mixon soon came down stairs, looking all
the better for the soaking rain—at least two
shades lighter in complexion, and as clean as
a new pin. When they had done supper,
Mixon said to Tom,

“Youre a pretty smart, likely boy, Tom,
and do m¥ work quite to my notion. Now, I
thought as how I could help you in yourn, so I
bought them things for you to-day.”

He pulled out from the long pocket of his
blue frock, a parcel, tied up in thick brown
paper. Tom took out his knife to cut the cord
tied about the parcel.

‘“‘ No! no!” exclaimed Bessie ; “ let me untie
the knots. Don’t you remember the story
mother used to tell us about ‘ Waste not, want
not?”

Bessie untied the knots, took off the wet
paper from the outside, and found the under-
wrapper quite dry. She handed the parcel
back to Tom, and he took off the brown paper.

“A plane and an auger! Oh, delightful!
Just what I wanted. Fathér, I am so much
obliged to you. Now, I only want some
nails.”
A GOOD DAY’S WORK. 25

“Not many nails, Tom; you must bore
holes with the auger, and put in wooden pins;
they are better than nails.”

“ A great deal better. Oh, father, how kind
you are! I was thinking today how much
I wanted a plane. I am afraid these tools cost
more money than you could spare.” |

“T always lay by something for a rainy day,
my boy; and this was one of the rainyest that
ever I did see,” said Mixon, laughing at his
own joke.

“Well, father, we have more spinach in the
garden than we need; may I take a basketful
down to the village. I could sell it and buy
some tar.”

“You may pick the greens to-morrow morn-
ing, and I will carry them down and bring
back the tar.”

¥ Father, you are so kind,” said Bessie,
looking at him with an expression of grateful
affection, which might have been a sufficient
reward to any parent, even for the most self-
denying act.

The old ropes were brought in. The chips
from the back ‘a made so bright a fire, thet
26 BRAGGADOOIO.

no other light was needed. The two children
told stories, laughed, and whistled, and sang,
while they picked oakum, as happy as birds
building their nests. Mixon fell off into his
usual evening nap, and Sancho kept him com-

pany.
CHAPTER IV.
CHEERFUL WORK.

Tur next day was clear and bright. The
sun shone out warmly—the leaves and grass
had started rapidly in consequence of the rain,
and all nature seemed rejoicing. The honey-
suckles and roses, which grew by Bessie’s win-
dow, had been beaten down, and needed sup-
port.

“The ground is too wet for you to work in
the garden this morning, Tom,” said Mixon.
“You may nail up Bessie’s posies, and fix them
by her window, so that they will look in upon
her when they blossom. By ten o’clock it will
do for you to put out some lettuce from the
place where it sowed itself. After that, you
may put pumpkin seed in: the field that has
been ploughed, close up by the fence.”
298 BRAGGADOCIO.

“And don’t forget, father, to take the basket
of nice greens Tom gathered this morning. I
have put an old tin kettle in the basket for the
tar.” .

Bran Mixon took the basket on one arm,
and carried his dinner as usual; as he walked
off, he cast one look back at his house; there
stook little Bessie, looking out the window after
him. She nodded and smiled. -

_ “For all the world just like her mother,”
said Mixon, wiping a tear from his eyes with
his sleeve, and then stepping briskly over the
ground with a light, cheerful heart.

Bessie’s parlor had one window in front, and
one at the side of the house. Over both of
these, her mother had carefully trained the
roses and honeysuckles which the storm had
now beaten down. With right good will, Tom
went to work to nail them up against the
brown clap-boards.

Bessie, meanwhile, was putting her room in
order, and a nice, comfortable room it was.
In one corner stood a bed, with gay chintz
curtains. A small bureau with a looking-glass
over it was in the opposite corner. A clean
CHEERFUL WORK. 29

rag-carpet covered the floor. The wall was
papered with a neat paper, and a few engra-
- vings of scripture subjects were hung up over
the mantle in black frames. Upon the mantle-
shelf were two tall glasses filled with wild
flowers. The chairs were painted in bright
colors, by some country artist, who seemed, by
the awkward patterns, to have cared more for
coloring than design. On the bureau lay a
Bible and a few other books, which had been
read over and over again by Bessie and her
brother. |

Children who have hundreds of books can
have no idea how precious the few books of
poor children are to them. One good book,
read over and over again, and talked about,
too, is worth more to a child, and does him
really more good, than dozens of books skimmed
over hastily, and then thrown aside, for new
ones.

Tom’s task for the day was completed before
dinner, and he had all the afternoon to work at.
his boat.

“T am thinking it will look like an old-
fashioned bread-tray,” said Bessie, as she saw
30 BRAGGADOCIO.

Tom fitting the sides to the bottom of the
boat.

“ Now, that isn’t fair, Bessie, when I am
making the boat as well as I can.”

“Why, Tom, it will take us just as well over
to the island. I did not think you would care
what it looked like. ‘Handsome is, that
handsome does.’ ”

“JT mean to paint her one of these days,
when I can earn some money to pay for it;
and then she won’t look at all like a bread-
tray. It was a bright thought of father’s to
buy me the plane and auger; now she will
look as smooth as a floor, inside and out; and
will glide over the water like a wild duck.”

Mixon soon after came home.

“Father,” said Tom, “I smelt the tar long
before you came in sight.”

“T expect I shan’t get the smell out of my
hair for a week. Your greens sold remarkable
well, The tar didn’t cost much, so I bought
with the rest of the money some red and some
white paint.”

“ Oh, father, how can you always think of
just what we want? It is so strange!” ex-
CHEERFUL WORK. 31

claimed Bessie; “I hardly dare to wish for
anything, so sure I am that you will get it for
me if I do.” | :

“ Why, the boat is going to be quite a nice
affair,” said Mixon, as he passed by it, in the —
back shed.

“Thank you, father,” replied Tom, with
sparkling eyes and a bright smile—“ thank
you, sir.”

The thanks were half for the paint and the
other half for the compliment, which quite
consoled him under the mortification he had
felt at his sister’s comparison.

- “T know what I shall call my boat,” said
Tom, as he sat whittling wooden pegs in the
evening.

“ Qall your boat!” exclaimed Bessie.

“The name I shall give her. But I won't
tell. It shall be painted on her stern.”

Precious little difference was there between
stem and stern !

“ T wish I could have a rudder to the boat,”
said Tom, “and you could sit at one end,

Bessie, and steer, while I rowed across to the
82 BRAGGADOOIO.

island ; but it is a flat-boat, and must go with
sweeps on pivots.”

“T am afraid that proud boy, George
Cramer, will laugh at our boat,” said Bessie,
coloring as red as a rose. :

“Suppose he should! It wouldn’t upset her.
Who cares for his laugh? not I.”

“ Nor I either—much. His sweet sister Ada
wouldn’t laugh, would she, Tom ?’

“She wouldn’t do anything to hurt a body’s
feelings, I am sure. Father is waking up.
Pil put away my work, Bessie, and you may
sweep the splinters I have made into the fire.”
CHAPTER V.
THE CRAMERS OF CRAMERSVILLE.

“You are a little goose, Ada.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me for calling you a goose! What
do you mean ?”

“T only mean that I am obliged to you for
not being violent, when I see you are displeased
with me,” was the gentle reply of Ada Cramer,
to her brother George.

The brother, however, was not appeased by
the gentleness of his sister; he continued:
“You wish to provoke me, Ada, by your
pretended mildness. I know you do. Look
out, or I shall be in a blaze. I tell you, I will
not bear the insolence and pride of any
English boy on earth.”

3
34 BRAGGADOCIO.

“ How do you know that Howard Framing-
ham is proud and insolent ?” timidly enquired
Ada.

‘“‘ Because all English people are. I hate
John Bull and all his race.”

“Then you hate your ancestors, for our
forefathers were English.”

“T wish to goodness I had never had any
ancestors; then I should not be tormented to
death by this eleventh cousin,” replied George
Cramer, taking his cap from his handsome
head and throwing it upon the ground.

Just then a bird fluttered in the tree, above
the place where the brother and sister were
standing, and taking wing alighted upon a
fence within a stone’s throw. George snatched
a stone from the ground and was about to hurl
it at the bird.

“Oh! do not be so cruel, brother; it is
a robin-red-breast !” exclaimed Ada, seizing
his arm.

“T know it. I hate robins because they are
English birds.”

“ Brother, brother! I thought everybody.
THE CRAMERS OF CRAMERSVILLE. 35

loved robins. The worst boys I ever knew,
would spare the dear robin-red-breasts.”

At this moment Mrs. Cramer came towards
them with an open letter in her hand. She
was a lady, apparently, about thirty-five, with
a pleasant countenance and graceful air.

“Your Cousin Howard has arrived in New
York, my children, and I have already ordered
the carriage to go to the depot. We must
meet him in the city and bring him home with
us.”

George Cramer would have been delighted
to go to the city for any other purpose than to
meet his English cousin ;—that was not at
all in accordance with his present feelings.
Habitual respect for his mother, however,
prevented him from expressing his dislike
to the proposal. He snatched up his cap
from the ground and wreaked his displeasure
upon it, with two or three hearty thumps,
which effectually knocked the dust out of it;
and at the same time, betrayed to his mother
the exact state of his feelings.

She prudently refrained from making any
36 BRAGGADOCIO.

comments. Ada clapped her hands with
delight, exclaiming :

“Oh, I am so happy! I know I shall
like Howard Framingham.”

\
CHAPTER VI.

YOUNG JOHN BULL. ‘n

Mr. Cramer was a wealthy manufacturer.
The village of Cramersville had rapidly sprung
up around the cotton factories, which gave
employment to hundreds of operatives. Mr.
Cramer’s own pleasant house was situated
upon the bank of the same stream which
turned the mills, at a mile’s distance from
them, where the bright river glided along,
unvexed by wheels or dams. |

He had but two children, George and Ada;
to their education Mrs. Cramer devoted herself
with constant assiduity and praise-worthy
patience.

Sir John Framingham, by his last will and
testament, left his only son to the guardianship
38 BRAGGADOCIO.

of Mr. Sands Cramer. It was a mystery to
the friends of Sir John, why he, an English-
man, a Londoner, should require his son to
reside in the United States, until the age of
one and twenty, with his guardian, Mr.
Cramer. Yet, so it was. Sir John gave no
reasons, himself, for this singular choice, but
doubtless he might have given good and
sufficient ones. Not many months after his
father’s death, Howard Framingham was
placed under the charge of the captain of
a Liverpool packet, and in fifteen days arrived
safely in New York. The captain immediately
wrote to Mr. Cramer, announcing his arrival.
A youthful stranger, in a strange land! An
orphan, too. Mrs. Cramer’s kind heart warmed
towards the boy. Her husband was absent on
a journey to the South, and she with her
children hastened to the city to welcome the
stranger. }

Mrs. Cramer entered the large parlor of the
—— House, Broadway, with George at her
right hand and Ada at the left. Partly
concealed by the crimson drapery of one of the
large windows, a stout lad was standing, look-
YOUNG JOHN BULL. 89

ing out into the crowded street. He was
dressed in deep mourning.

Mrs. Cramer advanced quite near him, but
the noises without were so deafening, that the
sound of footsteps upon the soft carpet made
no impression upon the ear.

Mrs. Cramer remained silent for a second,
just by the boy, and then she said in her usual
sweet voice :

‘“ Howard, I have brought your cousins, to
give you a cordial welcome to our country, and
to our home.”

She stood with her hand extended, and a
. cheerful smile upon her countenance.

Howard Framingham started, turned round,
colored deeply, and made a low, formal bow.
George Cramer immediately folded his hands
behind him, and stood bolt upright, stiff as a
post.

Mrs. Cramer’s hand fell, as she returned the
formal bow with a curtesy, and dear little Ada’s
eyes filled with tears.

The boys stood, like mastiff and bull-dog,
looking at each other, and measuring each
other’s size and strength. It would have been
40 BRAGGADOCIO.

easy for a looker-on to believe he heard a low
growl.

George Cramer was tall for a boy of four®
teen ; slender and active. Howard Framingham
was heavily built, shorter by several inches
than George, but strong and muscular.

Mrs. Cramer in a moment recovered her
habitual self-command ; “ Come, my children,”
said she, “let us be seated.” They gladly
dropped into their chairs, the boys. still
continuing to gaze at each other without
speaking. “We are to pass a few days in
town,” continued Mrs. Cramer, “and I hope,
pleasantly, as there are many objects of curiosity
and interest which I should like to show our
young friend.”

The young friend was shy and awkward.
He made an attempt to speak, but no words
were heard. He seemed troubled to know
where to put his hands, and continually
changed the position of his feet.

“The boy is cold, reserved, and bashful,”
thought Mrs. Cramer; “but then, he is an
orphan stranger, and I must be warm and
kind.”
YOUNG JOHN BULL. 41

George assumed a free, off-hand manner,

and exclaimed—
“We will have a jaunty, rich time—parade
Broadway—go to hear the Ethiopians, and see
the Museum. Suppose we start off in a jiffey.
I will call for rooms; and when I have
brushed up a little, mother, I will escort you,
and Sy Howard can beau my sister.” And
the young gentleman pulled the bell with a
very important air. The great, blue eyes of
Howard Framingham were fixed coldly upon
George, and with painful effort he slowly
replied, “I am not Sw Howard.”

“ But your father was Sir John; why, then,
are you not Sir Howard ?”

‘“‘ Because my father was a knight and not a
baronet, and I do not inherit his title.”

“JT do not understand the difference,” re-
plied George ; “for, luckily, we have no sirs,
and lords, and what-nots, tacked to our good
Christian names in this country.”

A waiter appeared to answer the bell.

“‘ Show these ladies to a room,” said George,
“and give me one by the side of them.
There is my card. See that Mr. George
49, BRAGGADOCIO.

Cramer, Mrs. and Miss Cramer, of Cramer-
ville, are registered upon the book.

Howard Framingham, though a year older
than George, was still a boy—a mere boy. He
wore his round-about jacket, and had never
been called anything but Master Howard, or
Master Framingham. The airs of George
Cramer, and the assumption of J/ister, quite
surprised him. His dress, too—a red cravat,
a green frock coat, bright-figured satin vest,
and plaid pantaloons. The English lad had
never before seen such a dress upon a boy of
fourteen.

The party dispersed to their rooms, and in
half an hour again met in the parlor.

George entered, hat and cane in hand,
brushed and perfumed, scenting the whole
parlor with eau de cologne and musk.

Mrs. Cramer and Ada smiled as George
came forward, to see how he strutted along,
with an air that seemed to say, “‘ Did you ever
look at a smarter fellow ?”

Howard Framingham begged to be excused
from going out with them.
YOUNG JOHN BULL. 43

“Why, we want to show you New York,”
exclaimed George with surprise.

“T don’t wish to ride in a jiffey,” was the
reply.

“T don’t understand you, sir,” said Mrs.
Cramer.

“ Master George said we were to go in a
jifey ; I suppose he means an omnibus. I
never rode in one in my life.”

The little party were amused at the mistake,
and George had some difficulty in keeping his
mirth to himself. Mrs. Cramer said, kindly—

“That was only some of George’s nonsense ;
he uses a great many slang words, and jiffey
is one of them.” :

“T supposed that to be an Americanism. I
am prepared to expect a great many such.”

“We have a right to coin our own words as
well as our own money,” retorted George ;
‘we are under no Stamp Act now, sir. Since
the young gentleman is too proud to ride in an
omnibus, I can order a carriage.”

“JT prefer walking,” said Mrs. Cramer;
“come, Ada, we will go together, and let
44 BRAGGADOCIO.

the boys take the lead. Come, Howard, we
must show you New York—the largest city in
the United States; and next to London, the
largest commercial city in the world.
CHAPTER VIL.
THE WALK IN BROADWAY.

“ Trere is the new Trinity Church ; is it not
splendid—magnificent?” said George, pointing
with his cane, and holding one arm akimbo,
while his neck was stretched to its full length,
as he looked up to the top of the spire.

“ Cock-a-doodle-doo,  cock-a-doodle-doo”—
shouted a ragged news-boy. The resemblance
was irresistibly ludicrous. It carried the mis-
chievous urchin in imagination to the barn-
yard, where he had heard the first efforts at
crowing. The joke was deemed a capital one.
Two or three other news-boys joined their
shrill voices: ‘¢ Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doo-
dle-doo.” George was ina rage. He flew at
the first offender, and gave him a smart stroke
with his cane.
46 BRAGGADOCIO.

One of his ragged companions instantly
knocked off the young dandy’s hat into the
mud, and then ran; George followed, thrash-
ing him at every step.

Howard Framingham deliberately stepped
up to the little rascal who had first insulted
George, and with one blow felled him to the
ground. A crowd was now collecting.- Mrs.
Cramer and Ada, much terrified and ashamed,
stepped within the yard in front of Trinity
Church.

“What did you knock that boy down for ?”
said a carman, seizing Howard by the collar.

* Because he insulted the boy who was
walking with me,” calmly replied Howard
Framingham. “Pick up that hat.”

There was something in Howard’s air and
manner that the Irish carman understood at
once. He relaxed his grasp, touched his own
ragged cap, and picking up the hat, brushed it
with his sleeve, and handed it to Howard with
a respectful bow, saying, “ You are a gintle-
man, and a gintleman’s son.”

“That’s no reason why he should knock a
poor boy down in the street,” said a stout
THE WALK IN BROADWAY. 47

countryman, with a bunch of game in his
hand.

“And shure he should, if the boy insulted
his friend,” said the Irishman.

“If he was in your miserable country, Pat,
that might do, but not here, in this land of
liberty and equality. Stand up, my boy, and
this young gimtleman shall ask your par-
don.”

But the news-boy was no sooner upon his
feet than he made the best possible use of
them by running away. Mrs. Cramer now
stepped out of the yard, and placed herself by
the side of Howard.

“Do not be alarmed for me, Madam,” said
he with great apparent coolness, though the
red blood had mounted to his face, and his
eyes were glowing like a furnace, a dull, lurid
glow. )

Seeing the lady by his side, the crowd dis-
persed, and almost immediately George re-
turned, heated with the race he had run, and
almost exhausted with the violent exercise of
thrashing news-boys.

“This is capital fun. How the cowards
48 BRAGGADOCIO.

took to their heels,” said he, taking out his
cambric handkerchief and wiping his face.

Howard handed him the rescued hat. He
set it jauntily upon his head, and. putting his
cane under the left arm, looked as though he
had gained a glorious victory.

“TI am heartily ashamed of you, George,”
said Mrs. Cramer; “there stands poor Ada,
frightened half to death; and here is your
cousin, a stranger, drawn into a quarrel by
your hasty temper.”

“He had nothing to do with my quarrel,
and Ada is a silly coward.”

“Yes, he had something to do with your
quarrel,” said Ada, who now joined them.
“He knocked down the news-boy who first
insulted you.”

“ Thank you, thank you!” exclaimed George,
extending his hand, and giving Howard a cor-
dial shake; “now we are friends.”

“That church is a finer building than I
expected to see in America,” said Howard, as
they walked on; “but not to compare, of
course, with St. Paul’s and Westminster Ab-
bey, in London.” |
THE WALK IN BROADWAY. 49

“ Of course not,” quickly replied Mrs.
Cramer, fearing the present amicable dispo-
sition of the boys might be disturbed.

“*T suppose you expected to find us savages,
tricked out in feathers and gew-gaws, living in
bark huts, and worshipping under the forest
trees,” said George, laughing.

“*] knew you were the descendants of Eng-
lishmen,” was the cool and proud reply.

“Not all; I, for one, boast some Dutch
blood. New York is an omnium gatherum.
Here we have Germans, French, Low Dutch,
Swedes, and specimens of every nation under
heaven. There, now, is the Battery. Did you
ever see a more beautiful view. That is Castle
Garden.”

*¢ Tt looks like a fortification.”

“Oh it 7s, when we need it; but in time of
peace it is a garden. Say, now, did you ever
see a more magnificent view ?”

The lad was silent. His eyes rested upon
the waves as they mounted and fell in the dis-
tance—the waves which had borne him from

his native land; and two large tears, in spite
4
50 BRAGGADOCIO.

of pride and the shame of boyhood, rolled
down his flushed cheeks.

George, though a tremendous brag, and
passionate and prejudiced, was not entirely
without feeling; his own dark eyes moistened ;
he drew the arm of the stranger within his
own, and said: “The sun shines so brightly
upon the water, that it dazzles and hurts my
eyes. We must hurry back to the hotel, or we
shall be late to dinner.”
CHAPTER VIII.
SEEING THE MUSEUM.

“Won way to-day, George?” inquired
Mrs. Cramer, the next morning.

“ Howard and I are going to the Museum.
Ido not think it is a proper place for ladies.
I know it is not considered so by the citizens.”

“Tt is perfectly suitable for Ada and me to
go with you, my son; and there are many
objects of curiosity and interest which I wish
to show your sister.”

“Please, mother, let us go for once without
you. Other boys of my age are not tied con-
stantly to their mother’s apron-string.”

This was the first time that George Cramer
had spoken thus to his mother, and it grieved
her exceedingly ; but she replied gently and
kindly— 7
52 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Tam sorry, George, that your mother and
sister are not always agreeable company for
_ you. We will not force ourselves upon you.
Go with Howard; but be very careful that
your hasty temper does not bring him and
yourself into trouble, as it did yesterday.”

The boys started together, glad, as foolish
boys often are, to be freed from all guardian-
ship and parental care. They had not gone
far when George said :

“Let us stop at this jeweller’s shop; I am
going to buy an eye-glass.”

“ An eye-glass! Are you short-sighted?”

No; I like it as an ornament.”

Howard cast one glance at the showy watch
chain and trinkets worn by his companion, and
thought he already displayed too many orna-
ments.

The eye-glass was bought, and tied by a
black ribbon to a button-hole of the —_
frock-coat.

George poked it between his left cheek and
brow, but it would not stay ; he was obliged to
draw up the left corner of his mouth, and
almost shut his eye, to keep it there.
SEEING THE MUSEUM. 53

Howard could scarcely refrain from laugh-
ing outright ; but he controlled himself for the
sake of politeness, and walked by the side of the
little dandy, quite ashamed of his companion.
He noticed smiles of derision upon pretty
faces, as they passed, and contemptuous looks
from dashing young men.

George was so well satisfied with himself
and his new ornament, and so occupied with
keeping it in the right position, that he did not
notice either derisive smiles or contemptuous
looks. Indeed, he had not a suspicion that he
was making himself perfectly ridiculous.

They entered the Museum, and George
assumed the place of cicerone to his English
cousin, with a very important, patronizing
air. :

“ Now, Sir Howard,” said he, “I shall have
the pleasure of showing you many objects of
native growth, which you never saw in Great
Britain.”

This was said in a loud voice, intended to
be very manly, and with very strong emphasis
upon the “Sir Howard ;” for George, like
many other democratic people, had a wonder-
54 BRAGGADOCIO.

ful fancy for what he affected to despise—
namely, déles.

“ Mister Cramer, I am greatly obliged to
you,” replied Howard, with the slightest pos-
sible tone of derision.

“Here are the bones of one of owr mas-
todons, or mammoths. What do you think of
such an animal as this? Can England show
anything to equal that?’ demanded George,
pointing his cane at the huge bones.

“These are the remains of an animal of an
extinct species,” replied Howard.

“*T don’t doubt there are thousands of them
yet living in our unexplored western forests,”
said George.

“They would be known to naturalists as
such, if they were living at the present
time.”

* How could foreign naturalists know of all
the animals that range about those thousands
of miles of forest and prairie in the far West?
If you spoke of your own little island, it would
be different. Such immense creatures never
could have roamed about that little spot of
earth.”
SEEING THE MUSEUM. 55

“ Mister Cramer, I have seen larger ani-
mals than this in England, in the British
Museum.”

“But not natives of that climate, or land
animals. I suppose you mean the bones of
whales. I can show you as big a jaw-bone
here as ever your eye looked upon.”

“No; I do not speak of whales, but those
huge sawrians, found in the lias limestone of
England. Why, one of our ladies* discovered
one, and pointed it out to the workmen in the
quarry ; it proved to be an animal at least
eighty feet long.

“Tt must have been a whale.”

“No, sir; it was not a whale, but an animal
who had lived and died in England.”

“Well, there is a collection of birds; you
do not pretend that you have anything to
equal our American eagle.”

“Tf that is a specimen of your largest
eagle, we have much stronger ones ; that bird
could not carry off a child in its talons.”

George considered this a direct insult to the
“bird 0’ freedom.”

* Mrs. Mantell.
56 BRAGGADOCIO.

*¢ All the world acknowledge that the Ame-
rican eagle is the noblest of living birds. No
body shall dispute that in my presence.”

“T might as well maintain that the English
lion is the noblest of animals, because he is on
our national coat of arms,” replied the stranger.

‘But you have no lions in England; and
we have eagles—the great bald eagle, the
Washington eagle, and a host of others; be-
sides our national eagle.”

Just then the band of music struck up a
lively air, and the visitors were called to see
a jig danced by the fat boy and the girl with
six-fingered hands and six-toed feet.

George fixed his glass in his eye, and stood
at a short distance from the crowd, holding his
hat and cane in the most elegant manner.

While he thus stood motionless, a sailor
came along, with a young girl leaning upon
his arm.

“Sally,” said the sailor, “look at that wax
figur’ of a dandy. Now, doesn’t it beat all
natur’. I despise the critturs. Even in wax,
I can’t bear the sight of a York dandy. No
monkey ever made me half so provoked.”
SEEING THE MUSEUM. 57

So saying, he carelessly snapped a quid of
tobacco at the object of his detestation. It hit
directly upon the eye-glass of the supposed
wax dandy.

George started and screamed. The glass
had broken, and cut his eyelid and cheek ;
fortunately, the eye which should have looked
through the glass was, at the time, closed, the
other eye doing duty for both. Immediately
there was a stir and tumult among the spec-
tators. The blood was streaming down the
face of the unfortunate George, and he ex-
claimed in a rage:

“Seize that fellow in the tarpaulin! He is
the man.”

The sailor immediately stepped up to him
with the young girl still hanging upon his
arm, and said :

“Young sir, lax your pardon. I thought
you was the wax figur’ of a York dandy, and
as I haven’t no great respect for them sort of
land-craft, I just flipped a cud at the dead
light in one of its eyes, and thought no more
harm than if it had been the figur’ head of
58 BRAGGADOCIO.

our ship. Sally will testify that I didn’t think
it was a live crittur.”

Here a laugh, long and loud, burst forth
from the motley group. The fat boy stopped
his jig, and the six-fingered girl ran to get
a peep at the “ live crittur.”

“Make way,” said Howard, with an air of
command. ‘“ Make way; let us get out of this
place as quick as possible.”

George, holding his handkerchief over the
wounded eye, was glad to escape.

The sailor said, “‘Come, follow, my lads, in
my wake. Sally and I will make an opening
for you. I know every kind of craft that sails
on the sea; but I find I am an ignorant ramus
about land craft. I would rather have cut off
a piece of one of my own ears than done you
a damage. Mister, take my advice, next time
you go to a Museum, don’t strut so exac’ly in
the posture of that wax figur’ of Gineral Laf-
fyetty at the tomb of Mount Vernon.”

George was restored to good humor by this
well-meant advice. |

They were now safely out of the crowd, and
hastened towards the hotel, which was not far
SEEING THE MUSEUM. 59

distant. "When Mrs. Cramer heard the events
of the morning related, she said :

“Tt is quite time for us to leave the city.
We will go home to-morrow morning. I am
so thankful your eye was not injured, that I
do not mind much the wounds on your face,
although I think one of them will leave a scar
there as long as you live.”

“Why, brother, your wearing your glass.
with eye shut, reminds me of a piece of poetry
I lately read, written by Cowper. It begins in
this way:

‘ Between eyes and nose, a strange contest arose,
To which of them the spectacles belonged.’

I can’t repeat it, but mouth was the lawyer,
and pleaded the cause so well for nose, that
the decision was, that when

‘Nose put spectacles on, eyes should be shut.’

You seem to have come to a similar decision,
and thus to have saved your eye. Give me
the brass frame hanging at your button-hole,
in memory of your happy escape.”

George snapped the ribbon, and passionately
threw the frame out the window.
60 BRAGGADOCIO,

“ Mother, I wish
that she never will

attempts it, she only
ably silly.”

you would inform Ada
be a wit, and when she
succeeds in being intoler-
CHAPTER IX.

THE RETURN TO CRAMERVILLE.

Earty the next morning the little party
were on their way homeward. The good
steamer Knickerbocker had made her way
among the ships, steamers, sloops, and other
craft, crowding about the docks, and was
careering over the free waters of the East
River.

“ What a glorious sight!” exclaimed George,
with proud exultation. ‘ Miles and miles of
splendid houses!—spires, domes, cupolas !—
forests of masts !—beautiful harbor, with its
fortified islands! No, no; don’t talk to me
of black, old London. Give me bright, busy
New York.”

“ George, George, I beg of you not to make
invidious comparisons,” said Mrs. Cramer,
62 BRAGGADOCIO.

“ Mother, what does invidious mean?” whis-
pered Ada Cramer.

“Such comparisons as may excite unplea-
sant feelings—such as seem to come from envy
or pride,” was the reply.

Howard Framingham never wondered at
anything. He considered it a mark of bad
breeding. Neither did he enjoy admiration.
He had made up his mind not to enjoy any-
thing in the United States.

“ A race! a race!” cried George, as he ob-
served a steamer dashing on only a few hun-
dred yards behind.

And such, indeed, it proved. The two
steamers were approaching Hell-Gate,* and
yet they pressed on under full steam. The
passengers, on both sides, were anxious to win
the race; and betting upon the steamers be-
came, for a moment, the order of the day.

“T'll bet you a dollar the Knickerbocker
beats!” exclaimed George.

“Done,” cried a rough-looking countryman ;

* Hell-Gate is a passage from what is called the East
River into the Sound, the navigation of which is obstructed

_ by rocks and whirlpools.
THE RETURN TO CRAMERVILIE. = 63

“Tl bet on the New Haven. There’s my
dollar—show yourn.”

George pulled a long silk purse from his
pocket, and fumbled in its depths, where a
solitary sixpence was skulking, and then mut-
tered, “Sir, excuse me, my money is in my
trunk.”

He was exceedingly mortified, and yet, was
quite too manly to call upon his mother for
the dollar.

“QO, then, don’t be betting when you can’t
come down with the tin. It is well you
couldn't fork it out of that gay, red purse;
for you and your dollar would have had to
part company, for there goes the New Haven
ahead; and now that she has got the start she
will keep it. Young man, let me advise you
not to brag with an empty purse in your
pocket, and not to bet with an empty noddle
on your shoulders.”

So saying, the countryman walked off leay-
ing the discomfited George quite crest-fallen.

At New Haven the party took the cars for
Hartford.

Now, this car I call first-rate,” said George.
64 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Tt is a beautiful new car. How splendid the
paintings are! How bright the mahogany is!
How rich this crimson damask is! Did you
. ever see such a magnificent affair ?”

“] never was in a car that went so slowly
before,” replied Howard, contemptuously.

“Wait awhile. We are in the crowded
city. When we are beyond the city limits,
we are taken on swift as the wind, by one of
the most powerful engines that ever steamed
it over a railroad.” |

Mrs. Cramer, who sat a few seats forward
of the boys, could hear the voice of George
without distinguishing what he said. She
perceived that he was warm and animated,
and motioned to him to come to her.

“Now, George, I beseech you,” said she,
earnestly ; “I beseech you not to get into any
altercation with your cousin. Try to make
yourself agreeable to a stranger in some other
way than by forcing him to praise what may
not be pleasing to him.”

“‘ But, mother, he will not be pleased with
anything, and it provokes me.”

“Then change places with me. Sit here
THE RETURN TO CRAMERVILLE. - 65

with Ada, and: I will go and take the seat by
Howard.”

So saying, Mrs. Cramer changed places with
George. |

It was not long before that young gentleman
spoke out in a very loud voice:

“Mother, there is West Rock. You know
the Regicide’s Cave is on that famous rock.
There is an inscription upon the cave, ‘ Oppo-
sition to tyrants is obedience to God!”

“ Who wrote that inscription?’ demanded
Howard,: roused from his quiet, indifferent
manner.

“Tt is supposed to have been engraven on
the rock by one of the subjects of King Charles
First,” replied George in a pompous manner.

“Did any of those Regicides come to this
country ?” eagerly enquired Howard.

“ Yes, lots of them,” said George; “three
of them took refuge upon that same West
Rock yonder, and hid themselves there. The
good people of New Haven found it out and
supplied them with provisions. After a while
they ventured to come into the town and pay
Visits. _ these days I should like to stop
66 BRAGGADOCIO.

with you at New Haven and show you the
graves of two or three of them.”

“They ought to have been put into those
graves a whole head shorter than they were
when living,” said Howard Framingham.

“What do you mean by that?’ fiercely
demanded George, without noticing that he
was attracting the attention of all the people in
the car.

“T mean they ought to have been served in
the same way that they served their good and
gracious king,” replied Howard.

“ Come, boys, you must not fight over again
the battles of cavalier and roundhead. Keep
the peace, I entreat you !”

Howard, after this, maintained a dogged
silence. George contented himself with talk-
ing to Ada, and now and then exclaiming,
“‘ Oh, the beautiful, beautiful Connecticut river.
I don’t doubt it’s a finer river than any Thames
or Severn.”

“ Well, even if it is, brother, wouldn’t it be
better not to brag of it?’ whispered Ada,
timidly.

“T suppose you would be fool enough to let
THE RETURN TO CRAMERVILLE. 67

that young John Bull persuade you that there
is nothing fit to be seen in this country.”

“Not while I can use my eyes, brother:
Oh, there is Hartford, and it will not be more
than an hour now, before we reach home.” |

They left the railroad at Hartford, took a
stage coach and arrived safely at Cramersville.
CHAPTER X.
LAUNCHING THE BOAT.

Ir was the first of May; a clear and bright
day, but by no means a warm one. Children
who go out into the woods to enjoy May-day, in
New England, will usually find their winter
clothing comfortable. The grass is green, but
not very high. There are some wild flowers in
the meadows and on the hill-side; the leaves
of the forest trees are just starting from the
stiff buds which have protected them from
Jack Frost’s spring nipping, and the birds sing
merrily among the branches. The first of
June in that climate is a much better day for a
holiday, and a June queen in a white muslin
dress, crowned with roses, looks altogether
better than a May queen in a far tippet.

The boat, the beloved boat, was completed,
LAUNCHING THE BOAT. 69

and all ready to be launched! It was painted
red, inside and out, and had a wide, white
stripe aroundit. Tom and Bessie were to
have the whole day—the whole May-day—for
a holiday. They were “up with the lark,” as
they say in Old England ;—“ up with the blue-
bird,” as they say in Vew England.

“ How are you going to get the boat down
to the river, Tom?” asked Mixon, as he was
going off to the mills, to his daily occupation.

“Pat Malony is going to take her down on
his cart when he goes for a load of stone.
He’s about the best Irishman I ever did see.
There he comes now, as smilin’ as a basket of
chips. Ill help him put the boat on his cart.”

Pat stopped his oxen, and touching the old
blue woollen cap, with a red tassel in the centre,
perched on one side of his head, said, “ the top
o’ the morning to ye,” and sprang to the
ground |

“This way, Ur. Malony,” said Tom ; * there
she is, in the wood-yard.”

“ And a beautiful cratur she is,” said Pat,
touching his cap to Bessie, who stood by the
boat, wearing a pink sun-bonnet, a bright new
70 BRAGGADOCIO.

calico dress, and a little red cloak. It was a
grand day for Bessie and Tom,—that May-
day. Tom laughed at Pat’s mistake, saying,
“ The boat, I mean the boat, Mr. Malony.”

“ And shure she’s a jewel too, my honey,
and it’s not everybody’s son can do such
wonthers as -you can; darlint, ye ought to be a
ship-builder.”

The boat was lifted into the cart, and Pat
said :

“Come childers, in wid ye. Ye can ride in
the boat, and no danger of being capsized.”

“Stay a minute, till I shut up Sancho, and
get our dinner basket,” said Bessie. ‘ Poor
fellow!” she continued, “ you must take good
care of the house. There now, good bye,
dear,” and she locked Sancho into the kitchen.
- With the dinner basket on her arm, she
might have been taken for little Red-Riding-
Hood, going to see her grandmother.

Mixon waved his hat to them as they drove
off in the ox-cart. “Safe sailing to you by
land and by water,” said he, and then he
trudged on to his daily task with a thankful,
cheerful heart.
LAUNCHING THE BOAT. 71

And the children were happier than Whit-
tington, when he was Lord Mayor of London,
and rode in his gilded coach.

As they drove along, Pat said :—“ Now, my
honies, I’ve a bit of advice to give ye. The
river runs like a racer, and ye must take a
start some ways up if ye wants to get aisy to
the island. [ll dhrive along on the, bank till
we comes to the right place. Ye may know it
again by a stake, that’s jist there to fasten the
beautiful boat to, with a nice shelf over it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malony ; I might not have
thought of the current.”

They soon came to a turn in the road, and
Pat drove for a while through a narrow path
on the bank of the river. :

“‘ Oh, there is our sweet island !” exclaimed
Bessie, clapping her hands. Pat now made an
abrupt turn, and after a few severe jolts, the
cart was dragged by the oxen down to the
water’s edge.

“Ye sees this is a first-rate landing-place,”
said Pat, “and there yonder under the bank,
is the stake to tie the cratur to. We'll have
her on the water before ye can spake two
G2 BRAGGADOCIO.

words. But first, Tom, take out your oars,
and then let me take out the young leddy.”

Bessie did not wait for help; she sprang
to the ground as light as a bird.

“Now, ye sees, I must jeest turn the
cart round, and then we’ll dump the boat into
the water.”

And Pat drove his oxen into the shallow
water, and after “hawing” and “geeing”
so loudly as to make the quiet spot ring
with the sound, he succeeded in turning the
cart. He then tied the long rope, which was
fastened to the stern of the boat, to one of
the stakes of the cart; then pulled out the
iron spike from the cart, and dumped it. The
boat glided out swiftly the full length of
the rope, and then by a sudden jerk came back
again.

“ As beautiful a launch as ever was seen by
these two eyes,” exclaimed Pat, while Tom and
Bessie clapped their hands and shouted for joy.

The little boat itself seemed to rejoice too,
like a fish who had regained its native ele-
ment.

“She sets on the wather like one of the
LAUNCHING THE BOAT. _ "3

beautiful swans at Castle Clonmarthige,” said
Pat. “Honey, do you know how to row?”

“To be sure I do,” replied Tom. “I have
rowed on the mill-pond ever since I was knee
high to a grasshopper, and I can swim like a
fish ; so there’s no danger, Mr. Malony. Good
bye,” and Tom slipped into Pat’s hand a
sixpence. It was all the money the boy had
in the world. |

“ No, no; do ye mean to insult me!” said
Pat; “ botheration! can’t I do ye a kindness
without takin’ your bit o’ money. Let me
see you sitting up crank in your boat, and then
I’m off.”

He untied the rope, snatched up Bessie and
lifted her in. Tom seized the oars and sprang
in, after her. Pat gave Bessie directions how
to sit in the right place; then he shoved the
boat, and off she went. Tom worked the oars
like a real sailor, and shouted back “ Hurra !”
to Pat, who swung his old blue cap, and made
the woods ring with “Hurra! Hurra! Hurra !”
CHAPTER XI.
BESSIE’S ISLAND.

Ir was well that Tom had been advised
about the current, for it ran so swiftly that
it would have been almost impossible for him
to reach the island, from a point directly
opposite. As it was the current aided him,
and the boat in about twenty minutes reached
the island. The. shore where they first
approached it was réeky, and Tom rowed
along till he came to the southern side, where
there was a good landing-place, which he
called “the beach.” There they landed.

“TI take palhanee of this island in the
name, and by the name of, Bessie. From this
time it shall be called ‘ Bessie’s Island,’ ”
shouted Tom, as he stood with one foot in the
BESSIE’S ISLAND. %5

boat and the other upon the shore. Bessie
sprang out of the boat, laughing heartily at
Tom’s grand speech. °

There is no stake to tie the boat to; what
are you going to do now ?” asked Bessie.

“Do! I know what to do. Bring a stone—
as large a one as you can lift, and I will fasten
this rope around it, and anchor the boat.”

Bessie ran a short distance, put down her
dinner-basket, and after awhile found a large,
rough stone. She came lugging it along, with
both arms around it, and dropped it as near as
possible to the boat.

“ That will keep her anchored,” said Tom,
as he let the stone drop into the water.”

He then threw the oars in the boat, and
joined Bessie.

“JT did not think Bessie’s Island was so
large,” said Tom; “why, there are—let me
see—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
trees—good, large trees, and all these cedar
bushes—Awckle berry bushes, too. I wonder
how they came. And, I declare, here’s a
currant bush. Isn’t it queer ?”
76 BRAGGADOCIO.

“But, Tom, what right have we to this
island,” inquired Bessie, thoughtfully.

Yom.—It is an uninhabited island.

BLessie.—It must belong to some body.

Tom.—I don’t think it does. Well, we shall
do no harm to any body by staying upon
it whenever we please. So take all the com-
fort you can on Bessie’s Island.

Bessie-—It sounds like Martha’s Vineyard
—the island we studied about last winter.
Where shall we put our dinner-basket while
we wander about it ?

Tom looked around, and soon discovered a
flat rock that, he said, would do nicely for a
dinner-table. There they left the basket. They
then commenced exploring the uninhabitable
island.

It was of the immense size of half an acre.
That was quite large enough for their fancy.
The bright river, with its blue little waves,
now glittering in the sun, surrounded the
lovely island, dashed up its spray among the
rocks on the shore. In midsummer the river
was much more shallow. At present it was
swollen with the snow that had melted and
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 3

come down from the hills and mountains, and
was a quarter of a mile broad. The island
lay directly in the middle. At the distance
of about a mile below were the mills—four or
five large brick buildings, filled with windows,
and six stories high. The dark smoke from
the steam engines rose high in the air, and
passed over the distant hills.

Nearer was Rose Lawn, the mansion of Mr.
Cramer. Through the trees might be seen the
front of the house, with its white piazza. After
admiring the view on the southern side of the
island, Tom and Bessie passed over to the
northern side. The banks of the Ousa were,
in some places, rocky and wild, covered with
woods to the very edge. In these places the
stream was narrower. Where it widened there
were meadows, now looking like the richest
green velvet. Tom had a natural taste for the
beautiful.

“How I wish I could draw,” said he; “I~
might make a beautiful picture for you, Bessie,
to hang up in your parlor.”

Bessie——You know there is no such word
as can’t in your dictionary.”
7 ° BRAGGADOCIO.

Tom.—That is true, Bessie, but I have got
something else to do besides draw, to amuse
myself and ornament your parlor. Here isa
nice place to sit, under this tree; we will here
talk over what I intend to do. But first, let
me spread down my handkerchief on the
ground.

Tom took out his clean cotton pocket-hand-
kerchief, and carefully spread it out for Bessie.
_ He then threw himself beside her, and con-
tinued : |

“ Father, you know, will get to be old one
of these days, and he hasn’t anything laid up
for old age, or if he should get sick. We
ought to do a great deal for him when he is so
kind to us.”

“So we ought; what can we do?” and
Bessie’s dark eyes filled with tears at the
thought of sickness and old age, which might
come to her kind father. |

Tom.—Oh, I can do a great deal. I am
going to learn to be a chemist.

Bessie—A chemist! What is that?”

Tom.—Father has often said if he only
knew how to mix dye stuffs, he could get
BESSIE’S ISLAND. "9

double the wages he now does. I am going
to study about chemistry and dyeing, and then
I can help him, and we will lay up money
against time and need come.

Bessie.—But how can you learn all this?

Tom—I am going to. buy some books to
study, and then I will try experiments here, on
this island.

Lessie—Where will you get the money to
buy books ?

Tom.—I know. What do you think put it
into my head. |

Bessie—T’'m sure I don’t know; you are
always having queer notions come into your
head.

Tom.—W ell ; I read in a life of John Fitch,
the Connecticut man, who invented steam-
boats, that when he was a boy his father was
too poor to buy him books, and John wanted a
geography. Only think, he had not even a
geography. That was many years ago, Bessie,
when they didn’t have geographies so common
as we do now. Well, John Fitch begged his
father, who was a cross, crabbed old fellow,

not like our kind father—John begged for an
80 BRAGGADOCIO.

out-of-the-way piece of ground to plant with
potatoes, that he might sell them in the fall,
and buy the geography that he longed for.
Now, in imitation of John Fitch, I am going
to ask father for half of what I can raise in
the garden more than we can use, and I will
sell the vegetables and buy the books and
things that I want.

Bessie—Did John Fitch raise potatoes
enough to buy the book?

Tom.—Almost; and the merchant who
bought it for him, made up the rest. I believe
John paid him afterwards.

Bessie.—I don’t quite understand how you
mean to do, Tom.

Tom.—You know there are a great many
folks down in the village, who have no gar-
dens. What I mean to do is, to supply some
of them with vegetables from ours. We will
have all we can eat ourselves, and for what is
over I will divide the profits with father: in
that way, you see, I will earn something for
him and something for myself, too.

*‘ Capital! capital!” shouted Bessie; “what
a boy you are, Tom!”
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 81

Lom.—tThe corn, potatoes, and pumpkins
in the field, are for winter use; so I shan’t
touch them, of course—only the summer vege-
tables.

Bessie—I cau help you—oh, I can help
you—I can weed, and I can fix the things so
nice to go to market; tie up the beautiful
radishes, and put them in a basket with fresh,
green peppergrass: I think I see them now
peeping out from among the fresh green.

Tom.—And father can take our vegetables
every day when he goes to market, and leave
them at the store to be sold, and bring home
the basket every night.

Bessie-—How you do think of everything!

Tom.—And now, Bessie, let us go to work.

Bessie.—W hat shall we do ?

Tom.—Don’t you see all that wood, and all
the rails and logs yonder, that have drifted
ashore. Suppose we build a house here.

Bessie jumped up from the ground, clapped
her hands, exclaiming—

“ Wouldn’t that be delightful! Tl take off
my cloak, and pin my frock up, and help

you.”
6
82 BRAGGADOCIO.

Tom.—We'll draw up the timber to this
place ; for it is the best place for the purpose
in the island. Under these trees we will build
our house.

And they went to work, and dragged up to
the place some of the rails and pieces of wood
and timber that had floated down the river,
and lodged upon the island. They thus
amused themselves till the sun was over
head.

“Now,” said Tom, “it must be twelve
o'clock, and I am glad, for I am as hungry as
a wolf.”

They went to the place where Bessie had
left the dinner-basket.

She took out a clean,- brown towel, and
spread it upon the flat rock. Then she care-
fully unpacked the basket.

The bread and butter, nicely cut and spread,
she laid upon the cloth ; some corned beef, cut
in thin slices; some of Tom’s favorite water-
cresses, and a dried-apple pie. Even vinegar
and salt were, not forgotten. To be sure, they
had but two plates, and no knives or forks ;
but that did not spoil their appetites.
BESSIn’S ISLAND. 83

“What a pity you did not think to bring
some water,” said Tom.

“Didn’t I, Tom,” exclaimed Bessie, exult-
ingly, as she drew from the basket a bottle of
water and a bright tin cup.

“JT declare, Bessie, you are the best little
housekeeper that ever was; you didn’t forget
anything. I will put two stones here for seats,
and then we shall dine like a king. Surely no
king could dine with a better appetite.”

The bread and butter and corn-beef were
pronouned excellent—the water-cresses de-
licious, and the pie was considered the best
that ever was tasted—certainly the best that
ever was eaten on Bessie’s Island.

Not a morsel remained of the contents of
the basket, excepting half the pie, which was
reserved for “a bite,” as Tom said, before they
left the island.

Tom.—Now, I am going to draw the plan
of my house, and build a place for a fur-
nace. |

Bessie—A furnace! What is that?

Tom.—I will show you.

He took out a piece of chalk and began
84 BRAGGADOCIO.

drawing upon the flat rock, which had served
them for a dinner-table, the plan.

“ Here, you see, must be the door—here a
a window—here the roof—there the stone
chimney. This is the outside. Inside I shall
have a fire-place and furnace. Here shall be
the furnace, built of stone. I am going to try
experiments in colors.”

Bessie—It is funny to see you take out
that piece of chalk, and when you have made
a few dashes and scrawls, look up as if the
thing was already done to a T.

Tom.—It is done in my mind.

Bessve.—We shall bring it nearer to done,
by getting some more stuff together.

Tom.—tThat’s you, Bessie! Somehow we
go together just like a bow and arrow. The
bow could do nothing without the arrow, and
the arrow nothing without the bow.

So the children went to work and collected |
a heap of stones and more wood, and laid
them on the spot chosen for the house.

“‘ How short the day has been,” said Tom,
after they had worked a couple of hours.
BESSIE’s ISLAND. 85

“There goes the. sun down towards the west,
and we must leave by and by.”

‘“‘ We must leave now,” said Bessie ; “ for it
will take us some time to get home.”

Tom.—N ot quite yet; I just want to lay a
row of stones in a square, to mark out the
place and size of the house.

Bessie—Come, Tom ; if you have any fault
in the world, it is, not leaving off a thing when
you ought to leave off.

“You talk to me as if you were a year older
instead of a year and two months younger
than I, and as if you were a boy instead of a
girl,” said Tom, somewhat impatiently, as he
kept on placing the stones in a square form.

Bessie-—Don’t be vexed, brother; I only
meant to say that you go about a thing so
earnestly, so fiercely, that you don’t know how
to leave off. I don’t mean to order you; but
didn’t you say we were like an arrow. The
arrow wants to be off, and the bow won’t help
her.

Tom.—Pretty good for you, Bessie. I
will just turn this corner, and then I have
86 . BRAGGADOCIO.

done. Shouldn’t you say the house would be
about eight feet square ?

“Yes, just about,” said Bessie, who by this
time had tied on her little red cloak and pink
sun-bonnet, and was standing with her basket
on her arm, all ready for a start.

“Well, here goes,” said Tom, looking at the
foundation of his house, as if very unwilling
to leave it.”

Bessie.—Come, come; you know since we
have once got here, it will be easy enough to
get here again.

Tom.—I never spent so charming a day in
all my life. Come again! That we will, every
day.

They now hurried across the little island,
and there was the boat safely riding at an-
chor—the anchor being high and dry on the
shore !

*¢ Off and away over the blue water,” shout-
ed Tom, plying the oars, while Bessie sat in
the stern of the boat, steering according to
Tom’s direction.

After rowing a short distance, Tom found
~

BESSIE’S ISLAND. 87

the current was setting very strongly in the
opposite direction to that which he wished to
go. Pat’s advice for getting fo the island was
very good; but for getting from it, the landing-
place by the stake was the worst that could
have been chosen. Tom rowed with all his
might, but found himself, in spite of all his
exertions, going far below the spot he attempt-
ed to reach.

““ Never mind,” said he, courageously ; “when
we come near the banks of the river, we shall
be out of the current, and can row along in
shallow water till we reach the landing-place.

“JT wish I could help you row; it is a very
hard work,” said Bessie.

“Oh, I like it of all things,” replied Tom,
pulling with such vigor at the oars, that the
perspiration rolled in large drops over his face.
They were soon out of the current, and in the
shoal-water by the banks. Tom rowed now
with less exertion.

“ Hulloa! there!” cried a voice from the
bank of the river. Tom and Bessie looked up.
There stood George Cramer and Ada, with
88 BRAGGADOCIO.

Howard Framingham, looking over a low
fence near the edge of the bank which ter-
minated the grounds of Rose Lawn.

“ Hulloa, there, I say,” cried George, spring-
ing over the fence, and running down the slop-
ing bank to the edge of the river, followed by
Howard.

‘¢ What business had you over there, on that
island? We have been looking at you through
a spy-glass all day,” said George.

“ You might have been in better business,”
said Tom, rowing as fast as he could.

The boys on the bank continued running
after the boat, and keeping up with it.

‘What impudence,” exclaimed George,
pointing at the stern of the boat—“ Ada!”

There, sure enough, was painted, in large
white letters, “ ADA.”

“What business have you to name your
boat after my sister?’ demanded George,
fiercely.

“JT have a right to name my boat just what
I please,” replied Tom, looking straight for-
ward the way he was rowing. |

George took up a stone and threw at Tom;

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BESSIE’S ISLAND. 89

it splashed into the river along side the boat,
and dashed the water all over Bessie.

“That is mean, George Cramer,” said Howard
Framingham; “mean to attack a boy when he
cannot defend himself. Fair play.”

George.—But he has no right to paint my
sister’s name on his ugly red boat.

Howard.—He has a right to call it Queen
Victoria, if he chooses.

George—He may call it “ Vie,” if he
chooses ; but he shan’t call it Ada.

Howard.—I thought this was a free coun-
try.

George.—It is; but that fellow has no right
to insult my sister.

Tom, meanwhile, had rowed out a little far
ther from the river’s bank, where the current
was stronger, and the difficulty of rowing
much greater. Howard shouted to him,

“Come up nearer to the bank, my brave
lad; he shan’t hurt you.”

Ada, by this time, had joined the boys.

‘“‘ Please, brother,” said she, ‘‘ do not trouble
those children; they are honest Bran Mixon’s
—Tom and Bessie.”
90 BRAGGADOCIO.

“One of our workmen! Honest, with a
witness! What right have they to go to fa-
ther’s island, and put your name on that red
boat ?”

Tom had rowed nearer to the shore, so that
the name was very plainly seen.

“ Ada!” exclaimed she. “Why that is a
very pretty compliment. Don’t you think so,
Howard ?”

“T have no doubt it was meant for a com-
pliment,” replied Howard.

While they were saying this, George had
run on es fast as he could, and had got in
advance of the boat.

“There will be mischief when the poor fel-
low tries to land,” said Howard, rushing after
George as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Some trees grew upon the bank so closely
that the boys were obliged to turn off from the
river, and for a few moments lost sight of it.
They came at last upon the road which Pat
had taken in the morning with his cart, and
following that they soon reached the abrupt
turning which the Irishman had taken when
he launched the boat.
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 91

George reached the place just as Tom was
tying the boat to the stake. Bessie was stand-
ing just by the edge of the water, waiting for
her brother. George now ran down the sandy
bank swiftly, and splashed into the water up
to his knees before he could stop himself.

“That is good for you,” said Howard, as he
came in sight; “I hope it has cooled your
anger.”

“Not a bit of it,” cried George, stooping
down and dashing the water with his hands
upon Bessie.

“JT thought you were a young gentleman,”
said Bessie, without moving from. the spot
where she waited for her brother. “I have
heard talk of such a thing as good manners.
Is this the way to show them ?”

As she said this, she took off the pink sun-
bonnet, out of which the water had taken the
stiffening, and stood with her head uncovered,
and her light flaxen curls falling about her
face and shoulders, a rose-glow upon her
cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkling with mer-
riment.

Bessie was not like Ada—a timid child;
92 BRAGGADOCIO.

she hardly knew what fear was; she was
small for her age, but active and nimble as a
deer.

“ Come, Tom,” she said, “let us run for it.
With both oars over your shoulder you can
run faster than that coward who throws stones
at a little girl. Water I don’t mind a bit,” she
continued, as George again splashed the water
at her with his feet.

“You are a brave girl,” said Howard.

Tom walked deliberately up the bank, and
laid down the oars.

“ Now, George Cramer, what have you got
to say,” said Tom to George, who had followed,
and now stood beside him.

George.—That you are a thief and a rascal.

Tom.—How do you prove it ?

George.—You stole that boat, and painted
my sister’s name on it.

Tom.—I made the boat myself, and painted
it too, just as I pleased.

George—You are a liar, too; for you
never could make it—you know you never
could.

Bessie.—Come, Tom, there’s no use in answer-
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 93

ing a boy who talks after that fashion. Let us
go home.”

Zom.—He shall first take back what he has
said.

Howard.—So he shall; it is no more than
fair; he has no right to call a boy hard names
without he can prove that he deserves them.

George.—It is no business of yours, Howard
Farmingham; I wish you would let me settle
this affair.

Howard.—Certainly I will. I only want
to see fair play. You are about equally
matched. Suppose you fight it out.

-George.—I don’t care to fight, for I should
beat the poor fellow all to jelly.

Bessie-—You had better not try, for Tom
is as strong as a lion, and as fierce, too. It is
all I can do now to keep his hands off from
you. |

As Bessie said this, one hand was laid
gently upon Tom’s arm. He shook it off im-
patiently, saying :. |

“T must give him such a drubbing as he
deserves.”

Bessie whispered in his ear—
94 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Remember what our dear mother used to
say, ‘ Bear and forbear, ”

The fierce expression passed from Tom’s face,
and he said :

“Well, Bessie, you are wiser than I am;
we will go home;” and then taking up his
oars, shouldered them, and was marching off.

“ Coward, coward!” shouted George.

“T can’t bear that Bessie—I can’t, in-
deed!” exclaimed Tom, about to lay down
tie oars.

“JT didn’t think the lad would show the
white feather,” said Howard.

Bessie-—He is no coward.

Howard—Why don’t he fight, then, and
settle the affair.

Bessie—Ah, sir, our dear mother, who is
now in Heaven, told Tom it was better to for-
give an injury than to resent it.

“ And so it is, little Bessie,” said Ada, step-
ping out from behind some bushes where she
had been trembling with fright.

Thus encouraged, Tom turned to George, and
said :

“J spare you a beating now; but look out
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 95

how you insult me when there is nobody by to
protect you.” 7

“T shall tell my father of that scamp’s do-
ings, and he will punish him, [ll warrant,”
said George, shaking his fist at Tom as he
marched off, with an independent, proud air.

Howard.—Can it be that those are the chil-
dren of one of the operatives at the factory.
They speak perfectly good English.

Ada.—Why should they not? They go to
the district school every winter.

Howard.—I never heard poor children in
England speak and act like them. The girl is
one of the most spirited little creatures that I
ever saw, and the boy, though he wouldn’t
fight, is a noble fellow.

George—I declare! This is the first time
you have praised anything in America.

Howard.—It is the first time I have seen
anything that has excited my admiration.

Ada—It is getting late, we must run
home; and they started rapidly for Rose
Lawn.

Mixon was not so sleepy as usual the even-
ing of that Ist of May.
96 BRAGGADOCIO.

After supper, he asked the children to give
him an account of the adventures of the day.
They did so. When Tom told how George
Cramer had insulted them, Bran Mixon started
from his arm-chair, and exclaimed so furiously,
“Why didn’t you thrash the young villain?”
that Sancho started from his nap, and growled
fiercely.

“Father, dear father,” said Bessie, ‘ don’t
be angry. I begged Tom not to fight; and
told him what our good mother used to say
about revenging an injury. It was as much as
I could do to keep him from thrashing the
boy.”

“You are right—you are right, my good
little Bess; I should have lost my place if he
had hurt that naughty little Cramer,” said
Mixon, settling again into his arm-chair.

“ Besides, father, I don’t know whether we
really have any right to occupy the island. I
will go to Rose Lawn and ask Mr. Cramer my-
self, to-morrow, whether we can go there when
we choose.”

“You go, my little Bessie; you would
BESSIE’S ISLAND. 9%

be frightened out of your wits at the big
house.”

Bessie.—No; I shouldn’t father. Nobody
would hurt me.

Mixon.—I shouldn’t think anybody on arth
could be so cruel as to hurt you; but Tom
had better go with you.

Bessie—No ; father, please don’t let him
go; another time I might not be able to keep
him from doing mischief to that bad boy.

Mixon.—W hat do you say, Tom ?

Tom.—tI have been thinking that we may
have been too hasty in taking possession of the
island, if it does belong to Mr. Cramer.

Mixon.—Most everything hereabouts do be-
long to him.

Tom.—tThen Bessie will go to-morrow, and
ask if we may use the island for our own this
summer.

Mixon.—She may go. Bessie, you may
read the chapter, and we will say oyr, prayers,
and go to bed. Itis a good thing to have a
little angel in the house.

Bessie.—Oh, father, I am no angel, but a

very wicked girl; for I have hard work: to
7
98 BRAGGADOCIO.

forgive that naughty boy. We must all try
to-night, when we say ‘ Our Father, forgive us
our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass
against us,’ to forgive George Cramer.
CHAPTER XII.
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN.

Brsste washed up the breakfast things the
next morning, and put the house in order.
Then she got ready to go to Mr. Cramer’s.
The pink sun-bonnet had been soused in the
water the day before, and must be done up
before it could be worn again. So she put on
her best straw bonnet, trimmed with green
ribbon, and her little red cloak over a blue
frock—her best frock it was, too, that blue
bombazette. She was particular about her
dress that morning ; and as it was a very im-
portant day to Bessie, we like to know just
how she looked, as she tripped towards Rose
Lawn. A brighter, prettier little country girl,
could not have been found in the whole State
100 BRAGGADOCIO.

of Cdinolbont—net a very large State, to be
sure; but look into its district schools, and
there you will find hundreds of pretty country
girls, but none prettier or better than Bessie
Mixon. Bessie had gone half way to Rose
Lawn, when Sancho came running after, and
frisked about her, with the greatest possible
delight.

“ Naughty dog,” said she; “ go home.”

Sancho fell back a little, and Bessie walked
rapidly on. Soon the dog came up with her
again; and this time, instead of stopping, he
raced on ahead.

“Oh, dear,” said Bessie; “now he will
surely have a fight with the big dog at the
Lawn. I do wish boys and dogs wouldn't
fight.”

Soon Bessie reached the great white gate at
Rose Lawn, and there was Sancho peering
through the fence, at the very dog—the terror
of all the neighborhood.

“Lie down, Sancho,” said she; “lie down
there, and wait till I come out.” |

Sancho held down his head, and pretended to
obey, but no sooner did the big dog come close
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 101

to the fence and bark, than Sancho jumped up
and began barking in an angry tone.

Bessie patted him upon the head and begged
him to be quiet. He ceased barking. The
other dog stopped too, but now and then gave
a low growl. |

“Poor fellow! good dog!” said Bessie, in her
gentlest tone, as she opened a small gate by. the
side of the large one, and closed it immedi-
ately. ‘“ Poor fellow,” said she, and laid her
hand on the dog’s black, shaggy head. He
wagged his tail and walked slowly by her side,
as she stepped along a path overshadowed with
elms, which led to the house.

She had been observed from the house by
Mr. Cramer and Ada, who were walking in the
piazza. :

“That girl’s courage is astonishing,” said
Mr. Cramer. ‘See how she has quieted both
those dogs.”

“She has a great deal of courage, papa;
I hardly dare go near Hector myself, he is
so fierce. I declare! it is little Bessie Mixon;
_ the very girl I was telling you about to-day!
What can she want?”
* 102 BRAGGADOCIO.

“T suppose she has come to make a com-
plaint against George.”

“Tt may be, for he deserves it, but it is not
like her. But I am so afraid she has come to
tell you how badly he treated her, that I will
go into the house.”

Ada went in, and Bessie walked on with
Heetor by her side, till she stood by the
steps of the piazza, and made a slight courtesy.

Mr. Cramer—Well, child, what do you
want ? ; |

Bessie-—I want to speak with Mr. Cramer.

Mr. Cramer.—Step up on the piazza, and
say what you wish. I am Mr. Cramer.

Mr. Cramer seated himself on one of the
settees in the piazza, and was amused to
see Bessie quietly seat herself at the other end
of the settee.

“T find my cloak too warm this pleasant
morning,” said Bessie, untying the little red
cloak, and her bonnet strings. “ Now, sir, I
have come to ask you who owns the island
in the river.”

“T believe it is mine; do you wish to
purchase it?” said Mr. Cramer, smiling.
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 103

“Oh, no, sir. I will tell you why I ask-
ed.”

And Bessie told the whole story of her desire
to reach the island—Tom’s building the boat—
the delightful day on the island—Tom’s inten-
tion to be a chemist, and his plan for using the
island as a place to try experiments.

“Now,” thought Mr. Oramer, “ the accusa-
tion against my naughty boy is coming.”

But no; Bessie went on:—“I am afraid
we have no right to occupy the island, after
all, though Tom did take possession, and call it
‘ Bessie’s Island.’ ”

“Tom is very fond of giving names; how
came he to call his boat Ada ?”

‘Because he liked the name,” replied
Bessie; “ then you know, sir, all about that.”

« About what ?”

“Tt is not for me to say anything about—
about—” Bessie hesitated a minute and then
said “ about anybody’s business but my own.”

‘‘ And brother Tom’s. Why does he wish to
be a chemist ?”

“ Because Tom wants to help father, so that
he can have some money when he gets to
104 BRAGGADOOIO.

be old and not able to work,” replied Bessie,
her bright eyes filling with tears.

“But how can Tom help him by studying
chemistry ?”

“He says he can then tell father how to
make beautiful colors, and he will get higher
wages ; and one of these days Tom may be
able to go into the mills, and get high wages
himself.”

Mr. Cramer—Your brother must be an
extraordinary boy.

Bessie—Thank you, sir, I think he is;
he can do almost anything. 7

Mr. Cramer.—Who is to teach your brother
chemistry. |

Bessie.—Oh, sir, he has the sweetest little
plan for that. He is going to learn it from
books and experiments. The vegetables that
we don’t want from our garden, he is going
to sell in the village, give half the profits
to father, and with the other half buy books.
Isn’t that an excellent plan ?

And Bessie’s bright eyes sparkled with joy
as Mr. Cramer, much amused, smiled assent.
It appeared to him a most remarkable thing,
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 105

that this young girl should, in such a fearless,
and yet a perfectly respectful manner, com-
municate all her brother’s plans. The indul-
gence and affection Bessie had received from
all about her, and the natural strength and
vivacity of her character had induced this
freedom from restraint.

Bessie.—It is time for me to go, sir; what
shall we do about the island ¢

Mr. Cramer.—Bessie’s Island ?

Bessie-—Yes, sir ; if you like the name.

Mr. Cramer.—W hat if I should tell you that
I prefer Goose Island, or Squash Island, for a
name.

' Bessie—I should think they were not pretty
names, but I would not care for that, one
straw, if you will only let Tom and I use
Squash Island when we please.

Mr. Cramer.—W ell, my little girl, you shall
have the island on condition that you send
your vegetables here, to my cook.

Bessie looked very gravely, and after a
while two large tears stood in her eyes.

Mr. Cramer—Wouldn’t that be a fair
bargain ?
106 BRAGGADOCIO.

Bessie.—I was thinking that Tom would
then have no money to give father and to
buy books, if he paid so much rent for the
island.

Mr. Cramer—True. Bessie, you are a
genuine Yankee.

Bessie.—Thank you, sir. I am very proud
of it myself. My father is a Yankee, and so
was my blessed mother.

Bessie’s tears now overflowed and streamed
over her blushing cheeks. She thought Mr.
Cramer was very hard with her about the
island. He was only amusing himself.

Mr. Cramer—Wipe away those naughty
tears, Bessie; you shall have the island, on
condition that you send the vegetables to
my cook. It will not be so far to send them
here, as to the village. But as Tom wants the
books, I will lend him two on chemistry, and
one on dyeing. You may take them home
with you this morning. And as he may need
some money to try experiments, I will pay him
two dollars in advance. The island will then
be rented to your brother and yourself, and I
will make out a lease of it for two years,
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 107

so that you can drive off all intruders; and it
shall be called Bessie’s Island.

Bessie.—I thank you, but what if—

Mr. Cramer—W hat if ?—

Bessie—What if poor Tom should be so
unlucky as not to raise vegetables enough
to pay for all this money ?

And Bessie looked at the two-dollar note
Mr. Cramer was reaching towards her, without
touching it, for it seemed to her an immense
sum of money. She continued:—* You know
there may be dry weather, and worms may
eat the young vegetables, and our pigs may
get into the garden, and our neighbor’s cows,
too ; so you see, Tom may not be able to make
so much money as all that.

Mr. Cramer.—But I am willing to lend
it to him, and run the risk of his paying it, as
soon as he can earn it.

Bessie—I am sure he would not take the
money in that way, for my mother always told
us, “Owe no man anything,” and we never do.
We do not owe a single cent to anybody,
and we can do without the island.

Mr. Cramer—Then you are rich’ indeed.
108 BRAGGADOOIO.

Few people are so truly independent. But
Bessie, we must make a bargain. Tom shall
rent the island, at half a dollar a year, paid
quarterly, that is, twelve and a half cents a
quarter. Will that suit you?

Bessie-—Oh yes! yes! yes! We certainly
can raise that much.

Mr. Cramer.—W ell, I will go and make out
the lease.

So saying, Mr. Cramer went into the house,
and Ada soon came out, with a silver basket
in her hand, and timidly said:

“ Papa says you have had a long walk, and
perhaps you will take some cake.”

“T thank you, I am not hungry,” said
Bessie.

“But can’t you eat cake if you are not
hungry ?” asked Ada, with surprise.

“T could, but I don’t wish to; I never
eat anything alone.”

Ada was sorely puzzled what to do or
say next. Bessie relieved her by saying,
“what beautiful flowers you have, already
blossomed out. While I am waiting, I should
like to look about a little.”
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 109

“Should you? I will go with you,” replied
Ada, putting down the cake-basket on the
settee.

“The hyacinths! the hyacinths! Beautiful
hyacinths !” exclaimed Bessie, bending over a
bed of those fragrant flowers, now sending
forth their rich perfume, and delighting the
eye with their delicate colors.

** Don’t touch one for the world,” said Ada ;
“our gardener is so cross he never lets me
pick a single flower.”

Bessve.—Not. pick them! when he has so
many ? 3

Ada.—No; he ties them into bouquets for
the parlors and dining-room, but he never lets
anybody else touch them. I will show you the
green-house if you wish.

Bessie.—W hat is a green-house ?

' Ada—tThere it is—it’s a place where flowers
are kept warm all winter, and brought forward.
When they are in blossom, or just going to
blossom, the plants are brought from the green-
house*into the conservatory, that you see there;
the conservatory opens into the south parlor,
yonder.
110 BRAGGADOCIO.

Bessie turned her eyes in the direction that
Ada pointed, and saw through the large
windows of plate glass, a great variety of
beautiful flowers.

Ada.—Come Bessie, you must see the green-
house, too.

The orange and lemon trees, filled with ripe
fruit, astonished little Bessie. She said:

“T thought oranges and lemons were always
brought from a far country.”

As Bessie was standing on tip-toe to smell of
one of the fresh lemons, the gardener appeared,
and shouted :

* Clear out, children, clear out ; what business
have you here, meddling with my fruit? Clear
out, or P’ll cut off your noses !”

“ Run, run,” said Ada, quite frightened at
this tremendous threat.

By this time Mr. Cramer had come out on
the piazza, and was looking for Bessie. Ada
ran to him, exclaiming : ,

* Only think, papa! Bessie won’t eat cake
because she isn’t hungry. Isn’t that funfiy ?”

*¢ Bessie is as philosophical as Dr. Franklin
himself,” replied the father.
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 111

Now, Ada did not know exactly what
“ philosophical” meant, but she saw from her
father’s smile, that it was a compliment to
Bessie.

Mr. Cramer continued: “I have selected
the books for your brother, and made out the
lease for the island. Ada, run and get mea
basket, to put the books in.”

“My work-basket, papa—my new one! Do
jet me bring it, and give it to the girl,”
whispered Ada: in a moment she brought out
a pretty willow work-basket.

Mr. Cramer laid the books and the lease,
nicely done up in wrapping-paper, into the
basket. Then he took a number of cakes from
the silver basket, and put in as many as the
willow basket would hold.

“You have a long walk before you, Bessie,
and may be hungry before you reach home,”
said he, handing the basket to Bessie. The
books, I hope, will be useful to your bro-
ther.”

“ He will be very careful of them, I am sure;
for though we never borrow money, we some-
times do borrow books,” said Bessie, tying on
112 BRAGGADOCIO.

her bonnet and gathering up the little red
cloak which had fallen back from her shoul-
ders ; then, taking the basket on her arm, she
said, “ Good bye,” with a little quick dab of a
courtesy.

“Good morning,” said Mr. Cramer; “I am
sure your father deserves the name he goes
by—‘ Honest Mixon.’ ”

“Thank you for that good word; thank you,
sir, a thousand times,” ‘said Bessie, with ano-
ther of her funny little courtesies. She then
tripped down the overshadowed path, every
now and then breaking from a walk into what
children call a hippity-hop.

Outside the gate was faithful Sancho, wait-
ing patiently for Bessie. He frisked and frol-
icked, and ran by her side, and it would have
been hard to tell which was the happier of the
two—Bessie or Sancho.

“ Honest Mixon !” said Bessie to herself, as
she came in sight of the house; “I didn’t
know that father was so called. There’s honest
Mixon’s house, Sancho; wouldn’t you rather
live here than at Rose Lawn. There the gar-
dener won’t let you pick a single flower, and
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 113

poor Ada Cramer looks like a frightened rab-
bit.” |

Sancho gazed into Bessie’s face, and wagged
his tail.

“You like our home, Sancho; so do I, my
good fellow. Honest Mixon! That name
pleased me more than all I have seen or heard
to-day.”

As soon as Bessie was out of sight of Rose
Lawn, Mr. Cramer sent Ada for George to
come to him, saying he wished to have a little
talk with him.

Mr. Cramer was a stout, full-faced man, with
sandy-colored hair, and small grey eyes. He
stood very erect, and had the self-complacent
air of a man “well to do in the world.” He
was hasty and sometimes violent in his temper,
but generous and upright. Ada soon came
back, coloring deeply, and trembling as she
said : )

“ Papa, George says he is studying his
lesson, and can’t come.”

“Can’t come! The young rascal! Tell
him to come immediately.”

Ada disappeared.

8
114 | BRAGGADOCIO.

In a few moments George came, with his
head hanging down, and looking very much
like a whipped hound. Mr. Cramer was walk-
ing the piazza with his hands behind him, and
a step quickened by excitement.

Mr. Cramer.—How dare you tell me you
can’t come when I send for you—scamp !

George.—I was studying my lesson.

Mr. Cramer.—W hat a guilty look you have.
Don’t you feel ashamed of yourself? You
knew what I wanted you for.

George.—I suppose somebody has been tell-
ing lies about me to you. |

Mr. Cramer.—No such thing. You insulted
a poor boy yesterday, and his pretty little sis-
ter. That honorable little girl was here this:
morning.

George (interrupting).—There! I knew she
had been telling lies about me.

Mr. Cramer.—Hold your tongue! She never
said a word about you, good or bad. I wish
you had one quarter of the honorable feeling
she has. Shame on you, to threaten and insult
children in the way you did yesterday. You
roust find an opportunity to beg their pardon.
BESSIE’S VISIT TO ROSE LAWN. 115

George.—W hy, they are that old nasty dyer’s
children—Bran Mixon’s brats.

Mr. Cramer.—Y ou vulgar rascal, to use such
a word as nasty. I can hardly keep my hands
from giving you a thrashing. The father is
a worthy, industrious man. I wish I could
believe that my son would ever earn for him-
self as honorable a name as “ Honest Mixon.”
Now, listen to me, with both your ears. I
have leased the island in the river, called
‘¢ Bessie’s Island,” to Thomas Mixon. Go near
it if you dare! He has a right to it now; and
nobody has any right to land there without his
permission. As sure as I hear of your troub-
ling him or his sister, in any way whatever, I
will give you a touch of the rattan—in other
words, a sound caning. You may go.

George was glad enough to be released ; but
he was not to be let off in this way.

“ Stop a minute longer,” said his father; “I
have a few words more to say to you. After I
returned home yesterday, your mother was too
much occupied with other things to tell me
about your visit to New York. You made
yourself ridiculous in the city, you young
116 BRAGGADOCIO.

monkey. Be careful how you get yourself
into any more such scrapes. Remember, it
would be well for you to put on as few airs as
possible. How do you know what turn my
affairs may take? You may see the time
when you will be glad to have such respect-
able friends as the Mixons. Now, none of
your bragging with Howard Framingham ; he
might tell you unpleasant truths. Depart out
of my sight, this instant, with that hang-dog
look.”

George obeyed with a sullen air, that did
not look at all like sorrow, nor give token of
repentance and amendment.
CHAPTER XIII.

BUSY BESSIE.

Tom was busily at work in the field when
Bessie returned.

“T won’t stop his work, for I must get our
dinner ready,” said she ; and she set the table,
and beside the fare she had before provided,
she placed on it a plate of cakes, frosted
white as snow. Five minutes before the clock
struck twelve, everything was ready, and
Bessie ran down to the field to call Tom.

Bessve.—Make haste and wash yourself as
quick as lightning, for I have got lots of _—
to tell you.

Tom threw down his hoe, and followed
Bessie to the house. In a few moments he
came in, looking quite clean and nice.

“What have you got in that bundle, tied
118 BRAGGADOCIO.

up in brown paper,” said Tom, as he spied the
paper parcel.

“ Kat your dinner, and I will tell you after-
wards.”

“ Bessie, you will have your own way, come
what will.”

“TI try to have you do things at the right
time ; and I won’t give up trying till you do.
Don’t choke yourself to death before you have
a chance to taste of Ada Cramer’s cakes.
There now, you eat more moderately—I’'ll soon
begin my story.”

“Come, now for the nice cakes. They are
nice, to be sure—delicious,” said Tom.

Bessie began clearing off the table, and as
she did so, commenced relating her adventures
at Rose Lawn. Then she washed the dishes,
and kept on talking, without interruption, till
she came to the offer of the two dollars from
Mr. Cramer.

“ And did you take the money, Bessie, be-
forehand? How could you do such a thing?”

“T couldn’t, Tom, or, at least, I wouldn’t;
80, you see, Mr. Cramer said we might have
the island for fifty cents a year; and there, in
 
_ BUSY BESSIE. 119

the bundle, is the lease, as he called it—a
regular lease.”

Tom tore open the parcel; and there, sure
enough, was a printed lease, filled up by Mr.
Cramer, leasing “ Bessie’s Island,” in the Ousa
River, etc., to Thomas Mixon, son of “ Honest
Mixon,” for the space of one year, etc., etc.

“* Now, who shall say we haven’t a right to |
go there!” exclaimed Tom. ‘“ And the books!
Delightful! ‘ Conversations on Chemistry.’
‘Chemistry for Beginners, containing direc-
tions for two hundred easy experiments,’ and a
‘ Treatise on Dyeing.’ ”

Tom happened to open the last book at the
blank leaf at the beginning. On it was writ-
ten, “ Thomas Mixon, with the good wishes of
Andrew Cramer.” He hastily turned the
leaves of the other books, and found his name
written in the same way in both.

“TI am too happy—too happy for anything.
How shall I tliank you enough, Bessie ?”

Bessie put her mouth close to the ear of her
brother, and whispered, reverently, “Thank
God.”

After a moment, Tom said:
120 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Mr. Cramer was more kind then you
thought, Bessie.” |

“So he was. I thought, at one time, he
was a hard customer. He must have been
fooling me. Let them laugh that win, say I.”

Tom went to work in the field after telling
Bessie to be ready to start for the island at
four o’clock.

Bessie had stockings to darn, and other
mending to do; but it was all finished by four
o'clock. Tom then came in, and soon after
they were on their way to the river.

The Ousa was unusually high ; but the dams
at the mills were all closed, and the water was
so smooth that the green banks were perfectly
mirrored in it; and every tree by the edge of
the river seemed looking at its twin tree be-
low.

There lay the little red boat, reflected in the
water so perfectly, that Bessie said it looked
like a wide-open book, covered with red
morocco, and a white stripe at the edges.

“We will carry over our anchor to-day,”
said Tom, selecting a suitable stone.

Bessve.—But won't it sink the boat 2
BUSY BESSIE. 121

Tom.—No, no; it will only steady her.
Jump in while I hold on to the rope, and
look out for your toes when I throw in the
anchor.

The stone was heavy enough to give the
boat a good shake as it went in; but Bessie
held on to the rudder, and neither started nor
shrieked.

“This is a capital time to go over,” said
Tom, as he plied the oars, and the boat glided
over the smooth water. Dip, dip, went the
oars in perfect time, and Tom and Bessie sang,
“Get out the way, old Dan Tucker,” and
their voices sounded far over the smooth water.

“That’s an insult to me,” said George
Cramer, who, as soon as he saw the boat, had
taken the spy-glass and gone to the garden
fence with Howard, to watch its motions.

Howard.—I do not suppose that they at this
time remember that there is such a person as
yourself in existence.

George—I'll make them remember it, some
time or other.

Howard.—You shall never injure them in
any way, if I can prevent it,
122 BRAGGADOCIO.

George.—W ho chose you for their champion ?

Howard.—I chose myself; but that stout
fellow does not need my aid; he can defend
himself. It was only through his forbearance
and his sister’s prudence, that you escaped a
flogging last evening.

George—Flogging! 1 could flog two like
him at once, and the next time I catch him, he
had better look out. There now! They have
reached the island, and that girl springs out
and alights upon it as if she thought herself
the “ Lady of the Lake.”

Howard.—And her brother the “ Lord of
the Isle,” which in truth he is, if Ada’s in-
formation is correct.

George—A. dreadful silly thing it was for
old Gub to be coaxed into leasing it to him.

Howard.—Old Gub! Who do you mean ?

George-—One Mr. Sands Cramer, who is as
easily imposed upon as anybody I know.
When he is in good humor I can coax him out
of anything. |

Howard.—You ought to be ashamed to
speak so disrespectfully of your father.

George-—You’ve turned preacher, too. I
BUSY BESSIE. 123

thought just now, it was your intention to be a
soldier, by your being so ready to fight other
people’s battles.

Howard.—I have not yet chosen my pro-
fession.

George.—I thought you was a gentleman of
fortune, who had no need to follow any pro-
fession.

Howard.—You happen to be mistaken. ,

George.—I don’t mean to bother myself in
that way. I despise a mercantile life—hate a
profession—wouldn’t wear out my brains with
law, nor be good enough for a parson, for all
the world. I mean to enjoy myself as a
gentleman of leisure—old Gub is rich as
Croesus.

All this time George had been looking
through the spy-glass, without once offering it
to Howard. “I can’t think what those crea-
tures over there are doing,” said he. “I wish
you would try to find out.”

Howard took the glass, and after a moment’s
observation, replied, “ they have got the ground
marked out for a house, and are setting four
124 BRAGGADOCIO.

stakes for the corners of it. I have no doubt
Tom’s house will be quite equal to his boat.”
So saying, Howard returned the spy-glass
and walked off. George stood leaning over
the fence, still watching Tom and Bessie,
dissatisfied with himself and everything about
him, suffering all the pangs of envy, hatred
and malice. Evil passions sting like vipers
those who take them to their bosoms.
Meantime Tom and Bessie went on pleas-
antly with their work, till it was time to go
home. It was a sweet, serene sunset, and the
glowing sky in the west gave a rich and
beautiful coloring to the landscape. The drops
from the oars looked like melted gold falling
back into a golden river.
“ Let us sing mother’s favorite hymn,” said
Bessie. And they sang:
“Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away ;
Free from care, from labor free,
Lord, I would commune with thee!
Thou, whose all pervading eye,
Nought escapes without, within,

Pardon each infirmity,
Open fault, and secret sin,”
BUSY BESSIE. 125

When they reached the shore, they found
Howard Framingham there waiting for them.

Tom shouldered his oars, and making a
slight bow, was passing by the stranger.
Howard was awkward and shy; he hardly
knew what to say, so he returned the bow, and
let Tom and Bessie pass on. In a moment -
they heard his steps behind them.

“ Excuse me,” said Howard; “if you have
no objections, I should like to walk with you.”

“None at all, excepting that we are in a
hurry. Bessie, you may run on, as it is
rather late, and I will walk with the young
gentleman.”

There was an awkward pause; Howard did
not know what to say next, and Tom waited
for him to begin. At length Howard ventured
to say :

“ Your boat is a nice affair.”

“Not very; one of these days I mean to
build a better one,” was the reply.

“ But it answers the purpose of carrying you
over to the island, perfectly well.”

“ Yes, she does that bravely; but I should
like a handsomer ¢
126 BRAGGADOCIO.

“You know, Mixon, (I believe that is your
name,) that I am a stranger and an English
boy.”

“My name is Tom. I did not know any-
thing about you.”

Tom, as he said this, cast a glance at the
stranger’s mourning clothes, and guessed that
he was anorphan. He himself was motherless.
Kind feeling prompted him to give a cordial
welcome to the melancholy stranger, and
without thinking of any disparity in their
condition, he frankly extended his hard hand,
saying :

“Mr. what-may-I-call-you, you are heartily
welcome to our country.”

“Call me Howard, or Framingham,” he
replied, twitching off his black glove, and
returning with his soft white hand, Tom’s
cordial shake.

“Do you know, Tom, you and your sister are
the first things in this country that I have
really liked ?”

“YT am sorry for that,” a Tom. ‘ There
are lots of other things that better deserve
your liking than I do. Bessie is a smart lit-
BUSY BESSIE. 127

tle girl. Have you been long in these United
States ?”

“Only a few weeks, but they seem to me
years—years.” And the boy turned aside his
head, ashamed of the tears that stood in his
eyes. |
Tom hardly knew what to say. “ May be
you would like to go over to our island.” It
was the only act of politeness that Tom could
think of at the moment.

* ] should right well, if your boat will carry
three.”

‘She would as easy as not. I should like to
row you over.”

“Thank you.”

They had now arrived at Mixon’s house.
Tom stopped at the gate.

“Is this your home ?” said Howard, attempt-
ing to conceal his surprise at the mean
appearance of the brown cottage.

“Tt 2s my home. Will you come in and
take supper with us ?”

No, I thank you,” replied Howard ; “ good
evening.” And the boy turned towards Rose
Lawn, and walked onward, much wondering
128 BRAGGADOCIO.

what the attraction was in those poor chil-
dren.

“T could not have believed it, in England,
that the poor were so well educated in this
country,” thought Howard Framingham ; “ it
is not education alone :—there is something
that I cannot understand in that free, un-
daunted Yankee, with his rough, cordial, kind
manners. I like him.”
CHAPTER XIV.
FIRST EARNINGS.

As the days grew longer, Tom rose earlier,
and worked like a brave fellow, in his garden.
He had but little time for going to the island,
for he now employed some of his leisure in
studying the books Mr. Cramer had given
him.

The radishes and peppergrass were anxiously
watched, from day to day, till they were large
enough to send to market.

“We will have the first radishes on our own
table, of course, for father likes them,” said
Bessie.

“T don’t wish any myself,” said Tom, who
had become very anxious to try some of the
experiments he had been reading about in his
books. |

9
“oe:

130 BRAGGADOCIO.

“T don’t care for any, either, but we had
better take one or two, when they are on the
table, so that father won’t mind eating them.”

This delicate act of politeness was worthy of
any little girl, much better bred, as it is termed,
than Bessie Mixon. — |

And that night they had a tumbler of
radishes on the table—clear and fresh they
were ; Mixon pronounced them the very best
he had ever tasted. |

The next morning Bessie arranged the basket
for market, with six bunches of radishes, and
the- bright green pepper-grass among them.
Then she gathered some violets, and put them
tastefully among the pepper-grass.

*« Please, father, leave the basket at the store
just as it is, and to-night I think you will bring
it home empty.”

“ And money in my pocket, Bessie. Do you
remember the story of the maid and her milk-
pail? Don’t be too sartain.”

“Tf you don’t spill the vegetables as the
maid did her milk, I am sure of the money ;
so be very careful, father. Good bye.”

When Mixon returned at night, it was with
FIRST EARNINGS. 181

an empty basket and half a dollar in small
change in his pocket.

“Half a dollar!” shouted Bessie; “ why
that is enough to pay the whole year’s rent,
Tom.”

Tom handed his father a quarter of a dollar,
and put the rest in his own pocket.

“JT don’t want to take your earnings, Tom.
Here, Bessie, keep the bank.”

“ Just as you say, father; it is yours, and I
will keep it if you say so. I have more
radishes for your supper to-night, and I shall
have a basket full for to-morrow morning.”

The next morning it rained. Bessie and @

Tom did not mind a pelting shower. They

J.
*

ran into the garden, and pulled radishes and

spinach enough to fill the basket; and again it *

went to market.

“ Now,” said Tom, “ after I have done up
the morning chores, I shall be able to read all
day. Get your work done, Bessie, and sit
down to your sewing, and I will read loud.”

“Then I shall know something about chem-
istry, too. Delightful! delightful !”

And Tom was as good as his word ; he read
132 BRAGGADOCIO.

loud, and talked over the things that he read,
with his sister, all day long.

At supper time, Mixon came in with the
empty basket, and laid another half dollar
upon the table, which was divided as before,
Bessie being the banker.

Thus they went on till Tom had two whole
dollars of his own. Meantime, the house on
the island had not been entirely neglected.
Tom and Bessie had spent many hours there.
Tom’s working tools had been carried over from
time to time; and the house was raised, and
covered with rough boards. The chimney and
furnace had not been built, because Tom want-
ed mortar. He now could buy lime, and he
had learned from Pat Malony how to make the
mortar. There was a large iron pot in the
wood-yard, with the legs and handle broken
off, that Tom had set his eye on for a boiler to
his furnace. He asked his father for it.

“Do you want to sell it for old iron? It
isn’t good for anything else.”

“ T want it to set in my furnace. If you can
spare my work for a day, I should like to go
FIRST EARNINGS. 133

to-morrow early, and have a right hard work-
ing day at the island.”

“ Well, you may go. You have fairly earned
the time. And Bessie may go with you.”

“Then I must go down to the store this
evening, and buy some things that I need.”

“Take Sancho with you, and be off.”

Where was there a happier boy in the
country than Tom Mixon, as he marched off
with two dollars in his pocket, of his own
earning ’—the first money of his own that he
had ever possessed.

He bought lime and fifty bricks, and on his
way home hired Pat Malony to call for them
at the store, and carry them down to the river
side the next morning. It was now the last
week in May. The weather was mild and
dry. The children were at the river while the
dew still sparkled upon the tall grass, and bent
the heads of the anemones on the hill-side.
They had brought the iron pot in a basket.
Pat soon came with the lime and bricks.

“T’ve brought ye some sand, too,” said Pat.
“Ye ought to have belonged to the Emerald
134 BRAGGADOCIO.

Isle, boy ; ye’re more fit for an Irishman nor
(than) any boy in Yankee land.”

This was the greatest compliment Pat could
pay to any one.

When he had driven off, Tom told Bessie
that he should have to do somewhat as the
man did with the fox, and the goose, and the
corn.

“Which will you carry over first? The
goose! If you leave her, I think the bricks
will not run the same risk of being eaten as
the corn did.”

“You are more like the fox, Bessie. I will
carry you and the lime over first, and come
back for the sand and bricks. Ill put the
lime in my furnace kettle.”

“Furnace kettle!” repeated Bessie, laugh-
ing, as Tom poured the lime into the old iron
pot.

They worked as hard that day as ever two
children did, and at night were perfectly de-
lighted with what they had accomplished.
True, Tom had no trowel to work with, but he
found a shingle which answered the purpose;
and as for the mortar, it was as good as ever
FIRST EARNINGS. 135

filled a hod, and mounted to the fifth story of
a brick house on Pat’s shoulder.

“ A boat builder, a joiner, a mason, a sailor,
a chemist! I really hope, Tom, you won’t be
a ‘Jack at all trades, and good at none.’ ”

‘All these trades are only preparatory to
the last. We must, sometimes, ‘go round the
bush, and round the bush, and round the bush,
before we can catch the bird.’ ”

As they were going over the river, towards
evening, Tom said:

‘“‘T wonder what has become of that English
boy staying at Rose Lawn. He promised to
go over to the island some day with me.”

“There he is, standing alone on the bank
of the river—all alone.”

“JT will hail him,” said Tom. “ Hulloa!
hulloa !”

A feeble “hulloa” was returned. When the
boat reached the landing-place, Howard was
there.

Tom and Bessie had on their working clothes,
and they were not very clean; for bricks,
stones, and mortar, are not neat things to
handle.
136 BRAGGADOCIO.

“T can’t shake hands with you, Framing-
ham,” said Tom, “for my hands are not fit.
We have had a ‘hard day’s work at the is-
land.”

“T have seen you there all day, and have
wished much to be with you.”

*“ Are you not well?’ anxiously inquired
Bessie, looking into the boy’s pale face.

“T have been quite ill, but now am conva-
lescent.” ,

That last was a big word. Bessie did not
understand it, but she'guessed it meant better ;
so she said, “I am glad you are better, and
hope you will soon be quite well.”

Home-sickness and change of climate had
produced the illness of the boy, and he now
appeared more languid than formerly. He
seemed very cold and restrained. These poor
children, with their soiled garments, appeared
to him at such a vast distance from his. own
position, that he could hardly master his pride
enough to treat them with civility.

“T am sorry you have been unhappy. I
was wondering why we had not seen you
again. Suppose you let me row you over to
FIRST EARNINGS. 137

the island to-morrow,” said Tom, in his usual
frank, easy manner.

It was astonishing how the voice of honest
sympathy melted the cold heart of Howard
Framingham. But who does not love kindness
and sympathy? He soon forgot the coarse and
soiled dresses of his companions, and chatted
along with them till they reach their humble
home.
CHAPTER XV.
CHOOSING A PROFESSION.

Tae next morning Mr. Cramer sent for
Howard Framingham to come into a small
room that he used for an office. He came im-
mediately.

“ Be seated, Master Howard. I have some-
‘ thing of importance to say to you. Your
father, Sir John Framingham, appointed me
by his last will and testament, your guardian.
Sir John was, as you know, a London mer-
chant, knighted by William IV., when he
carried an address from the city to the king.
Sir John escaped bankruptcy, and paid all his
creditors ; but in so doing left but a small for-
tune to his son. On that account, and some
others, he wished that son to be educated in
the United States of America; he also wished
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 139

his son to choose his own profession, and be
suitably educated for it. I now call upon you
to make that choice; if you have not decided
in your own mind, I will give you two days to
think about it, and at the end of that time you
will please to inform me.”

“JT should prefer devoting myself to sm
branch of natural science, than to follow one
of the learned professions,” said Howard. :

“T do not exactly undertand what you
mean; you had better think the matter over
onli r

And after this formal conversation, Mr.
Cramer said :

“You may go to your own room, and think
the matter over at your leisure.”

Howard went to his own room, and seating
himself by the side of a small centre-table,
folded his arms upon it, and his head dropped
upon them.

Alone! Alone! Nobody to advise—nobody
to sympathise with the orphan. The boy was
outwardly cold and restrained; beneath this
crust there was a warm heart, longing for
affection.
140 : BRAGGADOCIO.

Mr. Cramer disliked him. Mrs. Cramer
had tried at first to be kind to him, but his
coolness and indifference had repelled her.
George feared him as a rival, and hated him
because he felt him superior in many ways.
Ada was too timid to act out her kind feelings,
and too much influenced by others to have an
opinion of her own. And Howard was called
upon to decide for himself his future career in
life. No wonder that his tears flowed fast, as
his head rested upon his folded arms. He had
thought himself rich in worldly wealth, yet,
even as the possessor of half a million, he did
not wish to be idle. Now, it cost him but
little pain to learn, that he must exert him-
self; it was his loneliness of heart that drew
from his eyes those bitter tears. He remained
in this attitude for a whole hour; then he was
summoned to the school-room, where Mrs.
Cramer instructed the three children.

His eyes were red and swollen. When he
tried to look over his lesson, they were dimmed
with tears; and when he attempted to recite
it, he could not utter a word.

“You may go back to your own room and
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 141

study there; you seem more sullen than
usual,” said Mrs. Cramer.

Howard’s heart throbbed with pride and
wounded feeling. .He walked slowly and
haughtily out of the school-room; but, in-
stead of going to his own room, he rushed
into the garden, and from thence out upon the
high-road. There he walked on, and on, more
rapidly than he had ever moved before, till
suddenly and unexpectedly he found himself
in front of the brown cottage of Honest
Mixon.

There was Bessie, busy as a bee, planting a
bed of flowers in her own little garden, in front
of the house.

Howard stopped, and leaned over the fence.
Bessie did not observe him, but went on sing-
ing and working. She paused for a moment
when she had finished her song, and as she
did so, heard a deep sigh. She looked up, and
met the eyes of Howard Framingham.

“Oh, Master Framingham, is it you? Is
anything the matter ?”

Howard with some difficulty answered :

“T was thinking how much you looked like
142 BRAGGADOCIO.

a little sister that I lost. Her name was Eliza-
beth. Is not that your name, too ?”

“They call me Bessie, but I was baptized
Elizabeth. Come in, Master Framingham ;
Tom is in the field, and will be glad to see
you.”

Bessie ran forward, and led the way to the
field where Tom was planting corn.

“ Do you want another hand ?” said Howard ;
“T will help you, so that we may have more
time for the island this afternoon.”

Tom was quite surprised, but said :

“Thank ye! thank ye! You may drop the
corn while I make the holes; then we can talk
and work together. Bessie often does that ;
but to-day she is quite taken up with her own
garden.”

The boys did as Tom said—worked and
talked till dinner time.

It was quite an affair for Bessie to have
company to dine. She spread her best white
table-cloth upon the kitchen table. She ar-
ranged the plates for three, in the most orderly
manner. She placed the vinegar cruet on one
corner, the mustard opposite, the salt to match
 

CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 143

the pepper. She cut some cold ham in nice
slices, and placed it on a large platter, in the
centre of the table. Then she ran into the
garden and gathered some fresh lettuce,
washed it, and arranged it around the ham.
She thought it looked beautifully! Shen then
put on the bread and butter, and a dried-peach
pie. Cold, clear water from the well com-
pleted the table arrangements

Thoughtful Bessie then placed a pitcher of
water, a white basin, and a clean towel, on a
bench by the kitchen door, and then blew a
tin horn, which she sometimes used as a signal
to call Tom home to dinner.

The boys left their work, and on arriving at
the house, Tom was much surprised at the
womanly thoughtfulness of Bessie, in preparing
the cleansing apparatus by the back door.
Howard had never performed his ablutions out
doors before; but he did it now with a good
grace ; and Tom did the same.

Bessie blushed as she said, “ Come folks, be
seated ;” and after that was quite at her ease.
Howard’s walk and work, together with the
wholesome. country fare, gave him a hearty
144 BRAGGADOCIO.

appetite, and never before had he so keenly
enjoyed a dinner.

“You look like a different being from the
pale-faced gentleman who leaned over the
fence this morning. There’s nothing like work
to bring color into the face,” said Bessie; “a
good dark brown sometimes,” she continued,
pointing at Tom.

‘“ Now, I suppose I ought to take away the
plates before I give you pie; for Molly, who
made the pie, told me that was the way at the
Lawn.”

“‘ Never mind that ceremony,” said Howard ;
“T am sick of style and ceremony.”

The peach-pie was pronounced excellent, and
Howard inquired who the Molly was that
proved herself so skilful a pastry cook.

“Oh, Molly is our black cook, washer-
woman, ironer, scourer, white-washer, baker,
brewer, and adviser,” said Bessie, laughing.
“* Molly comes every Monday and performs
some or all of these things for us.”

** And after Molly has set the machine in
motion, it is like an eight-day clock; it goes
regularly till she comes again,” said Tom.
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 145

The boys chatted a few minutes after din-
ner, and then went to the field to finish Tom’s
task for the day. This was done in about an
hour.

“ Now for the island!” shouted Tom.

“ But your sister wishes to go with you,” re-
plied Howard.

“No; she is busy in her garden to-day. I
bought a variety of flower seeds for her, and
she has not put them all in the ground
yet.”

So they went, Howard and Tom, and landed
on the island by three o’clock in the after-
noon.

Howard had often heard of a log-cabin, but
had never seen one before. Here was a
genuine log-cabin, built of eight-feet logs, that
freshets had, from time to time, thrown upon
the island. These logs were nicely laid one
upon another to the height of six feet, and then
roofed over with a steep roof made of boards.
The cabin had a space left for a door, and ‘qo.
window-places to let in light.

“*Come into my parlor, said a spider *

Tis the neatest parlor that PE
is the neatest parlor that ev.» oo. aid spy.”
146 BRAGGADOCIO.

said Tom, springing into the open doorway.
Howard followed.

There was the furnace built up of brick,
with the iron pot nicely set in it; and there
was the chimney of stone, the holes filled up
with mortar.

“A very comfortable log-cabin,” said
Howard, “ for a back-woodsman. Do you
know, a few years ago, I thought everybody
in the United States lived in log-cabins.”

“Did you, indeed? I never saw one be-
fore,” said Tom, “ but I have often seen pic-
tures of them, and knew that they must be
put together like a cob-house, only that the
ends of the logs must be cut with an axe,
as you see, so that they will fit close to-
gether.”

“This is nice!” exclaimed Howard, seating
himself upon a stone which Tom placed for a
chair. ‘ What are you going to do here ?”

“Try experiments in dyeing, and other
chemical experiments.”

“Then you are going to be a dyer!”

ms N a actly ; I am going to be a chemist.”

“And I wi! be an architect. Yes; that is
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 147

it—an architect. I should like, of all things,
to plan and build houses.”

Tom.—That is a capital business. You will
make a deal of money by it. Now, I must go
to work. Here are some boards I shall use for
a couple of shelves, to put my crucibles, re-
torts, etc., etc., upon.

Howard.—Let me help you.

And the boys soon finished the shelves, and
placed them on one side of the cabin.

Howard then made a bench for a seat, and
placed it beneath the shelf. He used the plane
quite skilfully ; the saw he could not manage
quite so well. Meantime, Tom was collecting
fuel, and laying it in a heap outside. When
he came in he was quite amused to see the
bench which Howard had so soon constructed.

“This is your first mechanical work. It will
be worth its weight in gold, as a relic, when
the great architect Framingham becomes fa-
mous.”

It was already twilight when the boys reluc-
tantly left the island.

“Who would have thought this morning
that I could have had so charming a day!”
148 BRAGGADOCIO.

exclaimed Howard, as they were rowing over
the gleaming water of the beautiful river.

“Many a cloudy morning turns to a bright
and pleasant day. I am glad you have en-
joyed yourself. You must go with me very
often to Bessie’s Island.”

“ With all my heart, will I.”

The boys parted at the first turning of the
road—Tom for home, and Howard for Rose
Lawn. There a storm of wrath awaited him.
Mr. Cramer scolded him for being absent at
dinner-time ; Mrs. Cramer blamed him for
neglecting his lessons; and George insulted
him in the evening, when they were together,
by calling him a fit companion for the dyer’s
boy and girl—much more fit than for a gentle-
man’s companion. .

“JT found them far more agreeable com-
panions than the gentleman to whom you
allude,” retorted Howard. |

“Do you mean that am no gentleman? I
understand you have got to work for your liv-
ing, while I shall be a gentleman, and live
upon my money.”
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 149

“The hard earnings of your father,” replied
Howard.

“ Well, what is that to you? If a man only
has money, nobody asks who his father or his
grandfather was. I shall set up my carriage,
marry a rich wife, and make a noise in the
fashionable world of the city.”

As he said this, George Cramer stuck his
thumbs into the arm-holes of his gay vest, and
walked like a peacock to and fro in the piazza,
where they had been seated.

“There are a great many sudden turns in
fortune’s wheel,” said Howard.

“ One of them turned you out of half a mil-
lion, and only left you enough for an educa-
tion,” said George, who had, that day, learned
the fact from his father. Hitherto he had con-
sidered Howard richer than himself; now he
enjoyed a mean triumph over him.

The next day Howard asked an interview
with Mr. Cramer, as he had made up his mind
with regard to his profession.

To the office he went with a beating heart.

Mr. Cramer.—You have decided upon your
profession. What is it?
150 BRAGGADOCIO.

Howard.—I am going to be an architect.

Mr. Cramer.—An architect! What a low
taste the boy has! I do not think Sir John
would have approved of your choice.”

Howard.—Sir John Framingham would not
have disapproved a profession which can claim
such men as Ser Christopher Wren and Sw
William Chambers. My resolution is fixed.

Mr. Cramer—In England it might do to be
an artist, but in this country you can expect
nothing but poverty !

Howard.—I hope better things of your
country ; but if I cannot succeed here, I can
go home.

Mr. Cramer.—Yes; at one-and-twenty, if
you choose—so says your father’s will. Had
you not better consider this matter a little
longer, before you decide. A mechanical
occupation will, in this country, make you lose
caste.

Howard.—I choose a Fine Art for my occu-
pation. I have decided, sir, and nothing that
you can say will alter my determination. In
this, at least, thanks to my father, I am left
free.
CHOOSING A PROFESSION. 151

The cool, decided manner in which this was
spoken, left no doubt on the mind of Mr.
Cramer, that argument would be wasted upon
his ward, and he dismissed him from the office
without another word.

That same day Mrs. Cramer came to the
conclusion that she must give up teaching the
boys.

“Very well,” said Mr. Cramer; “one hun-
dred pounds sterling a year is the appropriation
made for Howard’s education ; for that we can
hire a tutor. I will give him his board for in-
structing George. But where shall we find
this tutor?’ was then the question.

Mr. Cramer wrote that evening to the Presi-
dent of
him; and in a few days received an answer,

 

College, to recommend a tutor to

recommending one Mr. Thaddeus Starr.
Only one week from the date of the first
letter, Mr. Starr arrived at Rose Lawn.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE NEW TUTOR.

Mr. Tuapprvs Starr was a pale young man,
who had studied himself almost into a con-
sumption, and now came into the country to
recruit his health. His dark hair was care-
fully arranged around a forehead fair and high,
beneath which glowed a pair of dark, grey
eyes. In his dress and person he was scrupu-
lously neat, and in his manners perfectly polite
and well-bred.

Mrs. Cramer, who was really lady-like in
manners, received Mr. Starr with politeness.
Mr. Cramer was civil, but distant; Howard
indifferent, and George as rude as a bear.

The school-room was an elegant carpeted
apartment, fitted up with neat mahogany
desks, globes, and philosophical apparatus.
THE NEW TUTOR. ~ 1538

This school-room was given up for the boys
and their tutor, and Mrs, Cramer instructed
Ada in another apartment. The first morning
of their assembling together, George came
dancing in, whistling a waltz, and snapping
his fingers. Mr. Starr looked up gravely from
the desk where he was already seated, and
said, “ Boy, go out, and come in again in a
proper manner.”

George colored deeply, and with a defiant
look seated himself at his own desk.

“George Cramer, do you hear me? March
out of the school-room this instant, and come
back immediately, in a proper and becoming
manner.”

“ Mr. Tute, if I do go out I will never come
in again,” said George, in an insolent tone.

“Walk out of the school-room this instant ;
if you do not, I will put you out.”

Howard at this moment came sauntering in,
with a listless, indifferent air. Mr. Starr
bowed politely to him, and Howard returning
it with cool civility, took his seat.

“George Cramer, you shall not sit there a
moment longer,” said Mr. Starr, leaving his
154 BRAGGADOCIO.

seat and taking George by the shoulder. No
sooner did the boy feel his touch than he
started up and ran full speed out of the school-
room.

Mr. Starr, as if nothing unusual had hap-
pened, seated himself again at his desk, and
said to his remaining pupil:

“ Howard, I must make some enquiries with
regard to the progress you have already made,
and learn what your intentions are for the
future.”

By questioning, Mr. Starr then drew from
Howard all that he wished to know.

“You have decided, then, to be an
Architect. Painting, Sculpture, and Archi-
tecture are all noble arts. I think, however,
you have done wisely in choosing the last,
which may be made the noblest of them all.
You are not going to college, I suppose;
for you are already sufficiently advanced in
Latin and Greek for your purposes, and modern
languages will be more useful to you than the
dead languages.”

During this conversation, George stood
sneaking outside the door, trying to listen to
THE NEW TUTOR. 155

what Mr. Starr was saying, fearing every
moment that his father might pass that way.
Then he stole off to the barn and hid himself
in the hay till the bell rang for dinner.

Mr. Starr gave Howard his lessons for the
next day, and while he was studying them,
took out a book and amused himself with it
till the time for the morning session had
expired.

At the dinner-table George appeared with
pouting lips and a sulky expression, not at all
becoming to a young gentleman of his preten-
sions. Mrs. Cramer felt compelled, by his
want of civility, to be more than usually
attentive to the new tutor, and Mr. Cramer
reprimanded George severely for what he
called, “ bull-dog manners.”

After dinner Mr. Starr requested to see
Mr. Cramer alone. He told him simply and
honestly what had happened. Mr. Cramer
was too angry to reason with George about the
matter; so he called him in and gave him two
or three severe strokes with a rattan, which
made the boy dance with more spirit than he
had in the school-room. He then dismissed
156 BRAGGADOCIO.

him with a forcible shove, saying, “now, you
young rascal, go and behave yourself.”

A thorough explanation and cool reasoning
would have done better with the boy, but Mr.
Cramer was too passionate for argument.

George went snuffling, and sobbing, and
pouting into the school-room, and seating him-
self at his desk, opened the lid, and hid his
face behind it. The tutor took no notice of
him for some time. At length he said, in a
gentle but decided tone, “I trust by this time
you are ready to ask. my pardon.”

George still felt the tingling of the essence of
rattan, and said in a gruff voice, “ your pardon,
sir.”

“Granted,” replied Mr. Starr, and then
made inquiry about George’s progress in
study.

‘What profession do you expect to follow ?”

“Tam above a profession ;—I am going to
college because all rich men’s sons go to
college.”

The tutor smiled, but not with pleasure.
George was far behind Howard in Latin and
Greek, and knew little of mathematics.
THE NEW TUTOR. 157

“You will have to study at least three
years before you can enter college.”

“T can afford it,” replied George.

“Money will not buy learning. You have
got to work for that.”

“ No matter, so long as I don’t work for my
living.” |

Howard, who began already to respect his
tutor, was shocked at this want of reverence
and delicacy in George Cramer.
CHAPTER XVII.
PAYING THE RENT.

Howarp pursued his studies diligently, and
all the amusement he sought was a visit to the
brown cottage now and then, and the rare treat
of a trip to Bessie’s Island.

Delightful hours were they, when Tom and
he tried experiments in the log-cabin. They
talked of acids and alkalies; nay more, they
bought them, and soon a row of bottles with
colored fluids stood upon the rough shelf, and
bits of cloth of all shapes and sizes—blue, red,
green, brown and yellow, ornamented the
rough sides of the cabin. Tom was learning to
be a dyer as fast as he could.

Early on the morning of the first of July,
Tom prepared himself to go to Rose Lawn,
PAYING THE RENT. 159

to pay his rent, for his lease was dated the first
of April, and his first quarter was now out.

“ Bessie, you must go with me, for I am
awkward and sheepish before strangers, and
you know the ways at Rose Lawn.”

She know the ways, to be sure !

Now it so happened that Bessie had never
set her foot within the doors of Mr. Cramer’s
house, but she had looked in at the windows
and sat in the piazza. So Bessie replied :

“ Oh yes, I will go with all my heart.”

Bessie filled the pretty basket, Ada had
given her, with honeysuckles, roses, and pan-
sies from her own garden, and with it on her
arm, trotted off with Tom, in high glee.

“You are carrying coals to Newcastle,”
said Tom.

“ What do you mean by that ?”

“ Newcastle, in England, is a place where
there are immense mines of coal. Wouldn’t it
be foolish to carry coals there, when they are so
plenty ?”

“ Certainly, it would.”

“Then you are doing the same thing—
carrying flowers to Ada Cramer from your
160 BRAGGADOOIO.

poor little garden, when she has lots and lots
of them at home.”

“ Not that she can call her own, Tom. She
told me the cross gardener wouldn’t let her
_ pick a single flower. I do not mind your
laughing at me, one bit. I dare say Ada
Cramer would like to work in a garden just as
I do. I should not love my flowers half
so well, if I didn’t dig and poke round them,
and pull them up, and put them down, and
pick them, just when I choose.”

“Go your own way, Bessie; it generally
proves to be the right one.”

“Ts queer that folks can’t take comfort in
what they have. Howard likes to come to our
house, I do believe, because there is nothing
there that he can do any harm to. At Rose
Lawn the gardener won’t let him play in
the garden—the coachman drives him out of
the stable, and Mrs. Cramer won’t let them
even play battle-door, for fear of wearing out
the carpets.”

“Poor children,” said Tom, laughing hear-
tily ; “they would think it was very funny for
us to pity them.”
 

Hes
PAYING THE RENT. | 161

When they arrived at the gate, the ferocious
dog began to bark, as usual.

“ Hector, good Hector,” said Bessie.

The dog was quiet, and when the children
walked up the path to the house, he wagged
his tail and walked quietly by their side.

“Who comes there?” said Mr. Starr, who
was walking in the piazza with Ada.

“Oh, that is sweet little Bessie, from the
brown cottage, and her brother Tom—Honest
Mixon’s children.”

“That would make a pretty picture. The
little girl, with her flaxen curls, the basket of
flowers upon her arm, her bonnet in her hand,
the fine, manly boy, in his suit of blue,
with the large white collar turned over,
the noble dog at their side, the graceful
branches of elm over their heads, the winding
path. See! Is it not a beautiful picture ?”

Just at this time, the breakfast-bell rang, and
Mr. Starr and Ada went in. Tom began to
feel the sheepishness coming over him as they
rang at the door, but Bessie cheered him up
by saying :

“You have come to pay money, Tom, not to

11
162 BRAGGADOCIO.

ask for it. Don’t spoil a good face, with what
you call a sheepish look.” |

The servant who came to the door, showed
the children into a large drawing-room, and
told them to wait there till Mr. Cramer had
done breakfast.

That drawing-room, with its rich furniture,
was like fairy land to the poor children. The
soft carpet with its rich flowers—the immense |
mirrors, from the floor to the high ceiling—that
painted ceiling with its gilded cornice—the
pictures in their gorgeous frames—the chairs
and sofas covered with red damask—the
window-curtains of blue damask, with the
rich lace curtains beneath—all these attracted
their wonder and admiration. But what most
excited and startled Bessie were four marble
statues standing on pedestals, one in each
corner of the spacious room. She walked up
to one beautiful female figure on tip-toe, and
stood gazing with awe upon a perfect copy of
Canova’s Flora.

Tom, meantime, was admiring the splendid
coloring of the carpet, and the curtains, and
PAYING THE RENT. 163

wondering if he should ever be able to produce
equally brilliant dyes.

Bessie, in a short time, began to feel at
ease, and walked about the room, looking
freely at the many beautiful things. As she
was standing still for a moment, comparing the
flowers on the carpet with those in her basket,
Tom saw the reflection in one of the large
mirrors, and whispered :

“JT declare, Bessie, there is the prettiest
picture of them all.”

Bessie quickly turned her head.

“ Halloa!” said Tom, forgetting where he
was; “it’s you, Bessie! I thought it was
a picture.”

While Bessie was laughing heartily at ‘the
mistake, the family came in. Bessie made her
quick little courtesy, but Tom quite forgot his
bow, and to Bessie’s horror, had forgotten to
take off his straw hat. She ran and twitched
it from his head, saying :

‘Where are your manners, Tom ?”

Tom took his hat in his hand, and looked
sheepish enough, while the older people tried
not to laugh, and the younger ones giggled,
164 BRAGGADOCIO.

excepting Howard, who walked up to Tom
and relieved him by shaking him cordially
by the hand.

Mr. Cramer and the others seated themselves,
but he did not ask the poor children to
sit on those damask-covered seats. Mr. Starr
handed Bessie a chair, and Howard motioned
Tom to a seat beside him, on a sofa.

Bessie, not daunted in the least by the
stateliness of Mr. Cramer, which, by the way,
he generally assumed in the drawing-room,
said :

“My brother has some business with you,
sir. He has come to pay his rent.”

“The rent of Bessie’s Island, I suppose,”
replied Mr. Cramer, without relaxing from his
pompous, drawing-room manner.

Tom now recovered self-possession ; putting
his hand into his pocket, he drew out his
twelve-and-a-half-cent piece, and stepping up
to Mr. Cramer, placed it in that gentleman’s
hand, saying:

“There’s my first quarter’s rent.”

“Shall I give you a receipt ?”

“ Yes, sir.”
PAYING THE RENT. 165

Mr. Cramer opened a splendid writing-desk,
on the table by which he was sitting, and wrote
the receipt.

Bessie, meantime, walked across the room to
Ada, who sat trembling in a comer, and
said to her in a whisper :

“Tet us go out in the shed; I’ve brought
you some flowers.”

“In the shed? Where is that ?”

* Out there, in the front of the house.”

Ada went to her mother and asked per-
mission to go into the piazza with Bessie.

‘No, my dear, I do not choose you should
go; take your seat.” |

“But the poor little girl has brought me
those flowers from her own garden.”

“Your papa would not like you to go. Sit
down by me.”

Mr. Starr suspected the whole truth; and to
relieve Bessie, stepped to her side, and taking
her by the hand, said: |

“ Let us walk in the piazza awhile, till your
brother has finished his business.”

At this George giggled out, in a most uncivil
manner.
166 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Those are beautiful fresh flowers,” said
Mr. Starr, as they walked in the piazza;
“ where did you gather them ?”

“In my own garden. Take them, sir; I
brought them for Ada, but I think her mother
will not let her come out here, and I did not
like to offer them there.”

“So these sweet flowers came out-of your
own garden, Bessie. I shall put them in my
room, and it will make it look quite cheerful.
They are the finest honeysuckles I have seen
this season, and such perfect damask rose-
buds! and such bright pansies! Really, my
room will look almost like home with these
lovely ones about it,” said Mr. Starr, as he
took the flowers from the basket and gathered
them into a tasteful bouquet.

“JT am glad you like them. I shall have
flowers all through the summer. Will you
come to our house and get some? Howard
will show you the way.”

“That I will, with the greatest pleasure,”
said the pale young student, inhaling the
delicious perfume of the flowers.
PAYING THE RENT. 167

Mr. Cramer handed the receipt to Tom, and
said :

“TI hope you are improving in dyeing.”

“T think I am, sir. Don’t you think so, too,
Howard.”

The boy, thus unexpectedly called upon,
reddened with false shame, but his better
nature prevailed, and he replied in a low tone:

“T think your experiments are very suc-
cessful.”

“ Well, go on, and one of these days you
may make a better workman than Honest
Mixon: you will hardly make a better man.”

“ Thank you, thank you, sir,” said Tom, with
earnest warmth.

“We are going to have fireworks here on
the Fourth of July. The operatives and their
children will all be here on the lawn to see
them ; your father, I hope, will come with you
and little Bessie, your tidy, smart sister. You
may go now, boy.”

Tom felt glad to be thus released. He
did not forget his “manners” on leaving the
room, though his bow was not remarkably
graceful.
168 BRAGGADOCIO.

“What! are you going, Tom?” exclaimed
Bessie, who was enjoying highly her conversa-
tion with the kind stranger to whom she had
given the bouquet.

“Yes, Bessie; I have finished my business.”

“T must go and say good-bye,” and Bessie
stepped back to the drawing-room, set the
pretty basket upon a chair, and then making
her courtesy, darted out of the room.

Mr. Starr walked with the children to the
gate. When they reached it, Tom exclaimed:

‘Bessie, you have left your basket! Go
back and get it.”

“J left it on purpose,” replied Bessie quickly,
her red cheeks glowing more brightly than
ever. “ Ada would not take my flowers, and I
would not keep her basket.”

“T am afraid you are proud, Bessie,” said
Mr. Starr.

“JT am too proud to take anything from
people who despise me,” replied Bessie, with a
slight toss of her pretty head, as she put on
the bonnet, which till now she had been hold-
ing in her hand.

“T shall talk to you about this another time,”
PAYING THE RENT. 169

said Mr. Starr, “ when I come to see you; and
Tom, will you take me to Bessie’s Island ?”

“Yes, sir, I will, any time you choose to
go. This afternoon, at four o’clock.”

“Thank you. Howard will show me the
way. Good morning.”

Mr. Starr went to his own room and arranged
the flowers in two small vases, which stood
upon his mantle-shelf, and was happier all day
for the kindness he had shown to little Bessie.

In the afternoon, as soon as lessons were
over, the young tutor started with Howard for
the Island. Tom was already there, waiting
for them.

“We can all go together. I can row with
one oar, and you with the other,” said Mr.
Starr, seating himself on the bottom of the
boat. He shouted, and laughed, and sang with
the boys, as though he were a boy himself, and
for that time, felt like a boy.

He was surprised at Tom’s ingenuity, and
still more at the progress the poor boy had
made, all by himself.

“T should not be surprised, my brave fellow,”
said he, “if you should one day make as famous
170 BRAGGADOCIO.

a chemist as Professor Hare, of Philadelphia,
or Professor Silliman, of Yale College. You.
have made an excellent beginning. Where
did you get all these colors ?”

“Logwood, and sumac, and indigo, and
other things I have picked up, and then I
have alum, and soda, and sulphuric and other
acids, and I try many mixtures. There’s a
beautiful purple, if it only had been on silk
instead of that bit of unbleached cotton,” said
Tom, showing a color which had been the
successful result of his last experiment.

“A fine color, truly. What are you going
to do this afternoon ?”

“T was only going to make a frame on which
I might stretch my pieces of cloth, that they
may dry smooth. You see they are full of
fine wrinkles.”

“T can help you do that, Tom; for I have
learned to use tools less awkwardly than I did
at first,” said Howard.

While the boys were thus employed, Mr.
Starr, taking out paper and pencil, sat down
under one of the trees, and amused himself
with drawing a sketch of Bessie and Tom, with
PAYING THE RENT. 171

Hector by their side, as they looked that
morning, coming up to the house at Rose
Lawn. A sweet breeze fanned the face of the
student, to which the pure air and active
exercise had given a slight glow, a sweet
promise of returning health.

The sun was fast sinking in the west when
Mr. Starr had completed his sketch, and the
boys the stretching-frame.

Howard, who seldom manifested any admi-
ration, was charmed with Mr. Starr’s drawing.
He had taste for art, and was glad to find
similar taste in his tutor; still more pleased
was he that the tutor had chosen for the sub-
ject of his sketch, Tom and his sister, who
were the only persons in the country whom
the English boy really loved. All the while
the little party was on the island, George had
been looking at them through the spy-glass,
and swelling and panting with envy.

“Tt’s too bad that they all should make such
fuss over these poor children. I will be up
with them somehow or other,” muttered he to
himself. 1
172 BRAGGADOCIO.

Ada came and sat down on the bank beside
him. He saw that she had been crying.

“Well, baby! What have you been bawl-
ing about, now?” he asked.

The tears started afresh into Ada’s eyes.

“T can’t help crying every time I think of
the flowers poor little Bessie brought me this
morning, and how she came back and left the
basket I gave her. I did not want to be un-
kind to her.”

“T am glad you didn’t take her nasty
flowers. She had no business to offer them to
you. Just as if we hadn’t more flowers in our
own garden, than all the flowers that grow in
the country besides. It was right down im-
pudent for her to offer them to you who have
millions of your own.”

‘ But they are not mine, George; I never
can give any of them away ;” and Ada sob-
bed aloud.

‘You are the silliest little goose that ever
breathed.”

“You have often told me so before.”

“Well; don’t you believe it?”

“T believe I am a lonely little girl, who
PAYING THE RENT. 173

would like a playmate sometimes. You never
play with me as Tom Mixon does with his
sister.”

“T would not be such a girl-boy as he is,
nor have you such a boy-girl as she. You are
a lady, Ada, or ought to be. How that nice
white frock you have on would look, if you
went over to the island in that nasty
boat !” |
- “J shouldn’t care. how my white frock
looked, nor what I wore, if I could only go
over and play on Bessie’s Island. I am tired
of always being dressed up, and being told,
‘Don’t go on the lawn, the grass is damp, and
you'll spoil your shoes; don’t run out without
your gloves, you'll tan your hands; don’t go
among those bushes, you'll tear your clothes.’
I don’t care for all these nice clothes. I should
like to play, and run, and jump, like Bessie
Mixon.” |

“ And be a right-down romp. I am asham-
ed of you! Remember, you are the sister of
_ George Cramer !”

Ada could with difficulty refrain from laugh-
ter at the pompous air of her brother. She
174 BRAGGADOCIO.

did refrain, however, and concealing her mer-
riment, said, with a very grave air:

‘ Brother, did you ever hear of such a word
as ponvperosity ?”

“Never; what does it mean ?”

“It was a favorite word with our old nurse,
Jones; when she wanted to express more than
the word pomposity can express, she said pom-
perosity.”

“You mean to insult me with your pomper-
osity, do you?” said George, fiercely, and
threatening to strike Ada.

She fled into the house, and escaped the
stroke.

George now watched the return of the visi-
tors to the island, his heart burning with envy
and malice.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FOURTH OF JULY.

INDEPENDENCE Day is, of course, a holiday
to every American citizen. Early in the
morning, Tom started with his father, to go
over to the island. He wanted to show Mixon
how successful he had been in dyeing.

It was the first time Mixon had been on the
island. The good-natured man was charmed
with Tom’s boat and his log-house, but more
with the beautiful colors Tom had succeeded
in manufacturing.

Mixon could not understand how, with the
aid of a few books, Tom could, in so short a
time, manage dyeing materials. He gave him
some information with regard to the mere me-
chanical part of the business, which would
176 BRAGGADOCIO.

prove useful; and after a few hours they left
the island, and returned home.

Bessie at first refused to go to Rose Lawn to
see the fireworks; but her father entreated her
to go, and she at last consented.

On the side of the house towards the river,
was a fine, open lawn, with trees here and
there in clumps, and a few scattered single
trees of immense size. Upon the lawn benches
were placed for all the operatives, and their
. families, from the mills. The guests of Mr.
and Mrs. Cramer were seated upon settees on
the large piazza, which exactly matched the
one on the other side of the house.

The evening was delightful. A soft breeze
sprang up, cooling the air, and wafting per-
fumes from the garden over the lawn, while
the stars peeped out one by one among the
rustling trees, and a few lingering birds still
twittered among the branches.

The little party from the brown cottage,
arrived upon the lawn early, and took their
seats upon one of the front benches. Bessie
sat between her father and brother, each of
them holding one of her hands, .and occasion-
THE FOURTH OF JULY. 177

ally looking at her with an expression that
said :

“'There’s nobody so sweet and good as our
Bessie.”

She had quite recovered from the effects of
the visit to Rose Lawn; and as she sat there
without her bonnet, her face glowing with the
exercise of walking, her eyes sparkling with
joy, and a sweet smile playing about her
cherry lips, she was, indeed, such a daughter,
and such a sister, as any father, and any bro-
ther, might have been proud to own.

The benches were soon completely filled
with a merry multitude of men, women, and
children. ae

When the sky had become quite dark, and
the stars, in the absence of the moon, glittered
in the sky, a large rocket was sent up like a
messenger to them ; but it whizzed awhile, sent
out a score of fiery serpents, and then fell to
the earth again; at least the stick fell, after
having carried the fireworks as far as it could.
Somebody has said, that “ Genius goes up like
a rocket, and comes down like the stick.” So

it is, when industry and perseverance do not
12

 
178 BRAGGADOCIO

come to its aid. A boy who thinks he is a
genius, should be very careful not to be of the
rocket kind. Then followed splendid Catha-
rine wheels, with blue, green, and red light.
Beehives, with colored bees, wheat sheaves,
fountains, and rockets with brilliant-colored
stars. And last came the American Eagle,
with its bunch of arrows in one claw, and an
olive branch in the other, E PLURIBUS UNUM in
dazzling letters around it. The shouts of the
spectators were deafening. They hurrahed till
they were hoarse, and slapped their hands till
they smarted, to testify their joy and their
patriotism.

Colored lamps, hung among the trees, were
lighted when the fireworks were over, and
cakes, lemonade, and other refreshments were
handed about upon the lawn. The lights
gleamed brilliantly, and shone upon hundreds
of happy faces.

Mr. Starr and Howard had, from the piazza,
observed Tom and Bessie during the evening,
and now came to have a chat with them.

“Well, Bessie, you seem to have recovered
from the pet you were in the other day,” said
THE FOURTH OF JULY. 179

Mr. Starr; while Howard shook hands cor-
dially with Tom.

“This is my father, Mr. Starr,” replied
Bessie.

Mr. Starr bowed politely, and continued :

“ But, Bessie, were you not what is some-
times called spunky, the last time you were at
the Lawn ?”

“T thought I had reason to be,” she replied,
reddening like one of the peonies in the neigh-
borhood. |

** My little Bess!” exclaimed her father,
“what made you spunky?”

Bessie.—Because Ada Framingham would
not come out in the piazza, and take some
flowers I brought her—some flowers from my
own garden. I left the basket she gave me,
because I didn’t wish to keep her present if
she wouldn’t take mine.

Mixon.—That was wrong, Bessie. You know
Miss Ada Cramer is the daughter of a rich
man, and you are only my daughter, and I
am not rich.

Bessie.—Goodness me! I don’t care for
that, father. We are rich enough; for we
180 BRAGGADOOIO.

have all we want, and I had flowers to
spare.

Mr. Starr —You know, Bessie, there must
be what are called social distinctions. That
is, Providence has so ordered it, that we can-
not all be upon the same level. Mr. Cramer,
for instance, is my superior, because he em-
ploys me, and pays me his money.”

Bessie-—That does not make you inferior to
him. Somebody pays him money, I suppose.
He don’t think himself inferior to anybody.

Mr. Starr.—Bessie, you have much to learn
on this matter. or the peace and good order
of society, it is absolutely necessary that some
of its members be willing to acknowledge
themselves inferiors.

Bessie—I do acknowledge that my father
has not so much money as Mr. Cramer, and
that I am inferior in that respect to Ada. I
know my place, Mr. Starr, and never mean to
step out of it. That is what my dear mother
taught me.

Mixon.—She always teached you what was
best and right, Bessie; I hope you haven’t
been sassy to anybody.
THE FOURTH OF JULY. 181

Bessie—I don’t think I have, father. I was
a little too proud, that is all.

Mr. Starr—Yes, Bessie, that was just the
truth, and now that you confess it we will say
no more about it.

There was now a loud shout heard from the
people on the back benches nearer to the river.
“Fire! Fire!” The party from the brown
cottage turned and beheld a fire on Bessie’s
Island. The log-house was all in a blaze, and
although it was a small building, it illuminated
the water for a great distance, and sent up
sparks and cinders into the air, rivalling the
fireworks which they had so lately seen on the
lawn.

“Tom’s house! Poor fellow!” exclaimed
Bessie, while Tom stood silent with astonish-
ment. There was no fire on the island in the
morning when he was there with his father.
How could it have happened !

“Let us take the boat and go over,” said
Howard.

“Mrs. Cramer will not like it if you are
not here, Howard, at her splendid supper, to
which we shall soon be summoned by music.” ©
182 BRAGGADOOIO.

Just as Mr. Starr was saying this, a fine
band struck up “ Yankee Doodle,” our funny
national air.

“T do not care for supper,” replied Howard ;
“T want to go over with Tom, to see if we can
save any of our things.”

Mr. Starr—It will be impossible. The
house is already almost burned to the ground.

Tom.—I shall go at any rate.

Howard.—Then I must go with you. The
Cramers will not miss me.

Mizon.—I am. afraid to have you go over in
the night, Tom. You must wait till morn-
ing. |

Tom.—Well, father, if you say so, I must
wait. Framingham, we can build another and
a better house. You must now go in to sup-
per. |

“That’s right, my noble boy,” said Mr.
Starr, slapping Tom on the shoulder; “ Come,
Howard, we will go in to supper, and after-
wards join our friends on the lawn.”

The music sent forth its cheering, enlivening
notes, and the people on the lawn left the
benches, and rambled about, or stood chatting
THE FOURTH OF JULY. 183

in groups. Some of the younger ones danced
in circles around the large trees, while a few
formed a country dance, and footed it merrily
to the tune of “Money in both pockets.”
Among the latter were Tom and Bessie, whose
dancing was not learned at dancing-schools;
and yet they were quite the admiration of the
rough spectators from the mills.

When supper was over, Mr. Starr and
Howard returned to the lawn. Bessie and
Tom had just finished their country dance.
The band now struck up “ College hornpipe ;”
and Mr. Starr, seizing Bessie by the hand,
said, “ I must have a dance, too;” and hurried
Bessie to take the head of the next figure.

Just then George Cramer came upon the
lawn; and with his hands folded behind him,
strutted about among the people eo speak-
ing to any one. Howard was standing with
Tom, planning an early visit to the island, say-
ing he would get up before sunrise, and meet
him at the landing-place; George Cramer
listened to them, and then skulked away with
a malicious smile upon his face. He had
walked but a few steps when he discovered his
184 BRAGG ADOCIO.

tutor dancing in the most animated manner
with Bessie Mixon.

*¢ Abominable!” exclaimed George ; “I won-
der what my father would say to that! How
can he disgrace himself by keeping such low
company! Mother says Mr. Starr is a perfect
gentleman; I wonder what she would think
to see him now.”

Bessie quite forgot that there was such a
little girl as Ada Cramer, the latter part of the
evening; but Ada did not forget Bessie. She
thought many times how she should like to
escape from the crowded, heated rooms, and
join Bessie Mixon on the lawn. Yet, it was
right that each should enjoy themselves in the
way provided for them. In this instance, as in
many others, the rich and the poor have their
own peculiar pleasures, and the advantage is
oftentimes on the side of the latter. There is
a more equal distribution of pleasure and com-
fort in the world than young people imagine.
Perfect happiness cannot be attained by either
in this world; but contentment, sweet content-
ment, can be attained by rich and poor.

The party on the lawn separated at eleven
THE FOURTH OF JULY. 185

o’clock, and returned home, highly delighted
with the entertainment of the evening of Inde-
pendence Day.
CHAPTER XIX.
Rogues! Roguxs!

Tue next morning, while the grey light of
dawn was still upon the hills and valleys,
Howard Framingham was on his way to the
landing-place, to meet Tom. Just as he arriv-
ed at the turning in the road, leading down to
the river, he stopped upon the brow of the hill.
The east was beginning to be tinged with the
rosy light of early day.

“ Beautiful!” he exclaimed; “well has our
poet said :

‘Yonder comes the king of day, rejoicing in the east.’

I wish he could have seen the magnificent sky
of this country, which, I must confess, far ex-
ceeds that of my beloved England.”

‘ He now heard a distant shout, and turning,
ROGUES. 187

saw Tom hastening to meet him. Tom soon
joined him, and together they ran to the spot
where the boat had been left tied to the
stake.

There was no boat there.

“The rogues! the rogues, who set fire
to the log-house, have stolen the boat!” ex-
claimed Howard.

 

“Don’t use profane language,” said Tom.

“T can’t help it; ——- —— them.”

“Please, Framingham, keep your temper.
It will do no good to rave.”

Howard.—Y ou are provokingly cool.

Tom—Am I? I don’t mean to provoke
you. I was thinking how much better boat I
could build now.

Howard.—And I will build the house. I
can buy the materials with my pocket money.
We will have a boat and house worth looking
at—hey, Tom ?

Tom.—tThat we will. I am going to swim
over to the island, and see what is left there.

Howard—I will go with you.

The boys threw off their clothes, and dashing
into the water, swam safely ‘over the river.
188 BRAGGADOCIO.

There were traces of footsteps upon the soft,
sandy beach, where they were accustomed to
land. They were the footprints of a man, and
one who had a very large foot, with an enor-
mous great-toe, such a one as could scarcely
have grown under a perpetual covering of
leather.

“This fellow,” said Howard, “must be one
of the natives. Jam sure he never trod shoe-
ieather.”

Tom.—It is the print of a negro’s foot;
see that long heel and the width at the toes.

Howard.—That is some consolation, for I
suspected George Cramer had been the guilty
person who set fire to our beloved house.

That house was entirely consumed. A few
pieces of glass and pottery the boys found
lying about the furnace, which, with the
chimney, remained standing.

After having surveyed the ruins for a short
time, the boys again dashed in the water, and
never were two swimmers more equally match-
ed. They reached the opposite shore precisely
at the same instant. Nothing had been seen
of the boat, and they gave it up as lost.
ROGUES. 189

Tom went home to his work, and Howard
reached Rose Lawn before any of its inhabitants
had left their beds.
CHAPTER XX.
SKATING ON THE RIVER.

We now must skip over the summer and
autumn, and come suddenly upon the first
of January.

Instead of a swimming party, there is a
skating party upon the river. How they glide
over the smooth ice! There is Tom Mixon.
He is “ cutting a cypher,” as he calls it ;—that
is, he is making T. M. in great letters upon the
ice with his skates. How easily he swings
himself round, and makes the letters. Howard
Framingham is making awkward attempts at
skating—he has never learned the art. George
Cramer flourishes about, making passes in the
air, and bending himself so far backward that
there is danger of breaking his back. There
they go, over the glassy ice!
\

SKATING ON THE RIVER. 191

Tom and Howard skated to the island and
landed upon it. Instead of the old log hut
there was a nice little white cottage, with
windows, real windows: the cottage had been
built by Howard and Tom, during the summer.
It was now closed for the winter, and carefully
locked up. Tom took a key from his pocket
and opened the door. Inside was a beautiful
boat. Not the “Ada,” but a nicely-shaped
boat with a keel and rudder, and on the stern
was painted “ Bessie.” Tom had spent his
leisure time on the island during the summer
and autumn, building this boat, while Howard
was building the house. Bessie was often their
companion, and many and many an hour had
she sat there, with her sewing or knitting,
watching the progress of the boys’ work.

The new boat was placed in the white
cottage, for safe keeping during the winter.
Tom had not seen it since November, the river
having been partially frozen over since that
time, and yet not safe for skaters.

“ All’s safe,” says Tom; “ just as we left it.
Strange, that we never could discover who set
fire to the dear old log hut.”
192 BRAGGADOCIO.

“T have my suspicions,” replied Howard ;
“but I cannot prove the truth of them. I hope
nobody will be so cruel as to burn this house.
Next summer we will try all sorts of experi-
ments here.”

“Yes, indeed we will, for as we study
chemistry and natural philosophy, this winter,
we shall be better able to make experiments.”

Mr. Starr was teaching Tom and Bessie in
the evenings, at home, and they were besides
attending the district school in the day-time.
The first of January was a holiday, and skating
was the order of the day for the boys.

As Howard and Tom were returning from
the island, George Cramer and two other boys
came towards them. |

“ Boys,” called out Tom, “there’s a thin
place in the ice ; you had better not go near it.”

“ Who's afraid? Not I!” exclaimed George
Cramer; “I. go so swiftly that I could skate
over ice no thicker than window-glass. Here
goes |”

George put himself in motion, and sped
swiftly onward, while the other boys stood still
upon their skates, looking anxiously after him.
SKATING ON THE RIVER. 193

He came to the thin place Tom had pointed
out, and glided half way over it, when the ice
cracked, and in went George Cramer, under
water. In a moment he rose to the surface and
held on to the side of the ice. It gave way,
and down he went again.

“A plank—a plank,” shouted Tom Mixon.
“ Help me with the plank you see yonder.”

The plank, or long board, was immediately
dragged to the thin place, which would not
bear the weight of a skater. It was laid along
upon the ice to the edge where it had been
broken, in the vain attempts of George to get
out.

Tom took off his skates, that he might stand
more firmly upon the plank, and walking upon
it nearly to the end, he threw himself down
upon it and reached out his arms towards
George, crying out:

“ Courage! courage! Cramer; you are safe,
you are safe.”

George had sunk almost exhausted to the
bottom, and now came up along side of Tom,
but under the ice, within reach of his hand.

Tom, with his stout fist, gave a blow to the ice;
13
194 BRAGGADOCIO.

it broke. He seized George by his long hair,
and halloed to the boys at the other end of the
plank, to drag him back on the plank while he
held on to George. They did as he com-
manded—seized hold of the plank, dragged it
back upon the firm ice, while Tom held firmly
to George, and the boys dragged them both till
they were safe upon the firm ice.

This was all the work of a moment, so
rapidly had Tom’s orders been given and
obeyed.

George lay upon the ice, without the slightest
sign of life.

“We must place him on the plank and
carry him ashore as.swiftly as possible,” said
Tom.

They litted the lifeless form upon the plank,
and the four boys, after taking off their skates,
carried the body as rapidly as possible across
the river, to the bank at the foot of Rose Lawn,
and from thence up to the house.

Ada, from the window, saw them approach-
ing, and ran to call her mother. She met the
bearers of her lifeless boy at the door. Mr.
Cramer was not at home.
SKATING ON THE RIVER. 195.

“ Quick, blankets, brandy !” cried Tom; “ he
is not dead.”

The whole house was in such confusion, that
Tom was obliged to give out orders peremp-
torily. They rolled George on a bed, rubbed
him with hot flannels and brandy, and Tom
breathed into his mouth, and applied a bellows,
too, for inflating the lungs. Gradually the
drowned boy began to show signs of life.
They gave him warm brandy and water, and
he swallowed it. After a while he opened his
eyes, and became conscious that Tom Mixon
was breathing warm breath into his mouth.
George closed his eyes, and sighed deeply.

“He will do very well now,” said Tom;
“we will leave him to take a quiet nap.”

Mrs. Cramer grasped Tom by the hand,
saying :

“ Don’t go! You have saved my son! How
shall I thank you ?”

“ Yes,” said Howard, “ he saved him at the
risk of his own life. Thomas Mixon is as
brave as Admiral Nelson himself.”

“Come here, Tom,” whispered George.

Tom bent over to listen to George.
196 BRAGGADOCIO.

“ Forgive me, forgive me, Tom,” said he.
“YT hired a black man to burn your house
on the island. He burnt the boat, too, and
swam ashore.”

“T forgive you freely,” said Tom; “ keep
quiet. You had better not tell any one else.
I never shall mention it to a living being. I
must leave you now.”

“‘T have ordered some refreshments for you
in the dining-room,” said Mrs. Cramer. ‘ Go, ©
my lads, you need them. I can attend to
George now.”

Fatigued and exhausted by their exertions
and exposure to cold, the boys found the hot
coffee and oysters very comforting. Ada pre-
sided at the table, and Mr. Starr came in while
Howard was giving a full account of the rescue
of George from a watery grave.

When Mr. Cramer returned home in the
evening, George was sitting up in a comfortable
easy-chair, but looking very pale and feeble.

“ What—what 7s the matter! I left you
well this morning,” he exclaimed.

Mrs. Cramer explained the whole affair,
SKATING ON THE RIVER. 197

giving full credit to Tom Mixon for his courage
and presence of: mind.

“He is a capital fellow—there’s no doubt of
that. What can I do for him? The fact is,
those Mixons are so independent, one don’t
know how to offer them a reward, even for
such a service as this.”

“ And so proud, too,” murmured George,
who, in spite of his recent remorse, felt some-
thing of the old enmity rising in his bosom.

“Well may they be proud,” retorted the
father, “for they have something in themselves
to be proud of. I believe the best I can do for
Tom, is to let him go on and help himself for
the present, and when I have the opportunity
I will befriend him.”

“ Undoubtedly,” said Mr. Starr; “Tom is
doing exceedingly well in his studies, and has
already made a discovery in dyeing which will
prove very valuable.”

Mr. Cramer.—Has he, indeed.

Mr. Starr.—Yes; he has discovered a new
way to get a purple color, a fine purple, equal,
I should think, to the famous Syrian dye.

Mr. Cramer.—He must get a patent for it.
198 BRAGGADOCIO.

Mr. Starr. —That he intends to do in time.
Let him work his own way at present.”

“JT will order some chemical apparatus to be
sent to him; that, at least, I can do, without
injury to him, and without wounding what
George calls his pride.

Mr. Starr.—Self-respect I should call it.

 

George recovered his usual health in the
course of a few days. He did not leave all his
faults under the ice. They came back to him
as he recovered, and stuck fast by him. Habit
had fixed them too firmly to be washed out by
cold water. He was sorry that he had con-
fessed his crime to Tom, and feared to see him.
His repentance was a sudden impulse, and the
effects, therefore, were not lasting.

George was forbidden again to skate upon
the river, and he looked through his spy-glass
with envy at the boys who continued to enjoy
that amusement. Howard became quite an
adept—that is, he knew how to skate, but was
awkward as a jumping jack.

Tom made a sled for Bessie, and Howard
and he fastened themselves to it with harness,
SKATING ON THE ICE. 199

and a brave pair they were as they skated and
drew little Bessie swiftly over the ice. Wrap-
ped warmly in her red cloak, hood, and mit-
tens, she defied the cold, looking the picture
of joy and health.

So thought Mr. Starr; and he drew and
painted the picture—

“Howard and Tom drawing Bessie on the
ice.”

It now ornaments the snug little parlor of
the Rev. Mr. Starr’s parsonage.
CHAPTER XXI.
A SEPARATION.

Tue spring, with its wealth of flowers, its
singing-birds, and dancing rivulets, came again
to cheer earth’s inhabitants.

Again the river Ousa was wide and free.
Tom and Bessie went frequently to the island,
where some nice chemical apparatus was now
placed in the white cottage.

All the summer long the island was the
resort of Tom, Howard, and Bessie, when they
could be spared from other occupations. Mr.
Starr, too, was frequently added to the party.
He aided Tom in his chemical experiments ;
taught Howard to draw from nature; and
occasionally gave Bessie a lesson in singing,
or, rather, sang with her, or accompanied her
A SEPARATION. 901

sweet voice on the flute. The summer passed
rapidly away, and the autumn had come, when
there’ was to be a separation. Mr. Starr was
to leave Rose Lawn. He was now in orders,
and soon to be settled over a parish in the
neighborhood of Cramerville. Howard was
going to Philadelphia to learn his profession
from a distinguished architect in that city.
Tom, through the influence of Mr. Cramer,
had obtained a place in the same city, with a
chemist, where he could receive a sufficient
remuneration for his own support, and, at the
same time, be preparing to take the place of
chemist and clerk at the Cramerville mills.

George Cramer was going to college.

Poor Bessie! How lonely she would be
when Tom was gone ; yet she kept up good
spirits, and prepared everything for Tom’s de-
parture, with great care.

It was a cool evening in September; the
first evening in autumn that they had sat be-
fore a fire at the brown cottage. There was
honest Mixon taking his usual nap, and Sancho
stretched out upon the hearth, dreaming of
catching flies, apparently; for he now and
202 BRAGGADOCIO.

then snapped his jaws, as though he were mak-
ing his mouth a fly-trap.

Bessie was manufacturing a housewife
needle-book, as she called it, for Tom to carry
to Philadelphia. In it she put buttons of all
sorts and sizes, needles, pins, thread, sewing-
silk, and tape.

Tom was packing up his books, and some
retorts, receivers, and other apparatus that he
thought he might want for his own use. He
was now a tall lad, near sixteen years of age,
stoutly, but not awkwardly built, with a high
forehead, a clear blue eye, a large, well-formed
chin, and a mouth expressive of firmness and
decision of character.

Tom.—How often I shall think of you,
Bessie dear, while I am absent. Here is one
of Mr. Starr’s sketches of you, that he drew on
the island. Here you are under a tree, with
your hand laid on Sancho’s head, as he lies by
you, and the other holding a branch of ever-
green for a parasol. I shall take this with me,
and hang it up in my room.

“Everything here will remind me of you,
brother,” said Bessie, and a large tear-drop fell
A SEPARATION. 203

upon the needle-book. “There, now, I am
spoiling your beautiful purple color,” she con-
tinued, brushing off the tear.

Tom—No, you are not; my colors will
stand salt water. I am afraid you will be very
lonely next winter.

Bessie.—I shall be lonely ; but, then; I shall
have so much to do, that I shall not have time
to think of it. You know father gets so much
higher wages since you have taught him about
dyeing, that he can spare more of my time.
Molly is coming two or three days in the week,
instead of one. I am to go through a course
of reading under Mr. Starr’s direction. I
shall be at the district school for the last time,
and shall study hard. Then I shall write very
frequently to you, and sometimes I shall amuse
myself with drawing, for which Mr. Starr says
I have a decided taste. You must write to me
as often as you can, Tom, and tell me all about
the great city, and how you get along.

Tom.—That I shall, Bessie dear; it will be
one of my greatest pleasures. There now, I
have packed my box so that it would go safely
to Nova Zembla.
204 BRAGGADOCIO.

Bessie-—There’s your needle-book ; put that
in too. I think I see you mending the elbow
of your coat, Tom, and making wry faces at
your awkward botching. Live and learn. It
is easier to patch an elbow than to build a
house such as Howard Framingham built on
our island. Hasn’t he wonderful genius ?

“No; not exactly genius? He is too steady
for a genius; and yet he has something that
answers the purpose. He will make a first-
rate architect. A lucky thing it is for him
that his father did not leave him a mint of
money. He will make, now, a substantial
citizen.”

Bessie—Has Howard Framingham got over
his dislike to this country.

Tom.—Not entirely. He loves England
dearly; but he does not mean to go back till
he has gained a reputation here as an archi-
tect. Come, Bessie, it is getting late. We
will waken father, and have prayers.

The chapter in the Bible that night was read
with deep feeling; the prayers were said with
solemn earnestness, and trustful confidence.

Sleep came to relieve them of the sorrow
A SEPARATION. 205

that was waiting heavily upon their hearts,
and in the morning they awoke with new zeal
and cheerfulness for the duties before them.
‘CHAPTER XXII.
THE DASHING YOUNG FRESHMAN.

Ir was pleasant for both Howard and Tom
that they were to go on their journey by the
railroad together. They met with many ad-
ventures more interesting to themselves than
to others, and arrived safely in Philadelphia.

The day but one after their departure,
George Cramer left home for college. Great
preparations had been made for this event.
The gay and dashing style of dress in which
Mr. and Mrs. Cramer indulged George, would
be sure to make him conspicuous among the
young freshmen. |

He had been examined at commencement,
and passed a tolerable, and only a tolerable,
examination. He just made out to slide into
college edge-wise, and now he had come to
THE DASHING YOUNG FRESHMAN. 207

join his class. He alighted in front of the
college “‘ campus,” and ordered the driver to
carry his luggage to his room—three trunks,
one large box, one hat-case, and a band-box!
A goodly quantity of luggage for a freshman,
especially as his room had been previously fur-
nished, and his trunks, etc., contained only his
bedclothes and wardrobe. |

George strutted up the “campus” with a
very consequential air, followed by the driver,
carrying one of his trunks.

“ Heads out !” shouted a sophomore, who sat
in an open window, with his feet swinging
against the brick wall of the college—‘ Heads
out !”

Up flew the windows, and fifty heads or
more were immediately thrust out, and the cry
was repeated from mouth to mouth, “ Heads
out! Heads out!”

Not a little vexed, the young freshman
marched through the long path leading to the
door of the entry where was No. 45, his own
room, Glad was he to escape from the obser-
vation of the saucy sophomores who had given

him such an obstreperous greeting. The driver
208 BRAGGADOCIO.

brought in the rest of his luggage, and closing
the door after him, left the dashing young fel-
low to his meditations.

And not very pleasant meditations were
they. He was an entire stranger to every
student in college, and had got to make his
way among them. His beautifully furnished
room, with its Brussels carpet, and Turkey-red
curtains, which had been selected by Mr.
Cramer, at length drew the attention of George
from himself. There was his large mahogany
wardrobe, on one side; a dressing-bureau, with
its fine mirror, on the other. A book-case,
with curtains of green silk, stood in one corner,
and a wide sofa-bed in the other; and in the
centre a marble-topped table. In college they
were allowed but one room for each student.

George amused himself with unpacking his
trunks and arranging his wardrobe. He
placed his splendid dressing-case on his bu-
reau; and as he did so, looked complacently
into the mirror, and said :

“These fellows will soon see that I am some-
body.”

He waited till towards evening before he
THE DASHING YOUNG FRESHMAN. 209

ventured out to deliver his letters of introduc-
tion to two of the professors, whom he had not
met at his examination. Just as he stepped
out the prayer-bell rang, and he followed the
crowd into the chapel.

There seemed to be something wonderfully
provocative in the appearance and manners of
George Cramer—that is, there was something
so ludicrous that it was almost impossible not
to smile, as you caught a glimpse of his slender
figure bent backwards with that consequential
strut. The boys who sat near him tittered ;
and he heard some one whisper, “ Dandy
Jack! Dandy Jack!”

There were some, however, who quite ad-
mired his splendid watch-chain, and other
tokens of arich young man. There are always
boys enough, and too many in college, ready to
make acquaintance with a new fellow who has
money.

It was not long before George Cramer’s room
was the favorite resort of all the idlers in the
class. What they did there, the faculty of the
college did not know; neither do we care to
inquire. One thing is certain, they were nei-

14
210 BRAGGADOCIO.

ther wiser nor better for the time they passed
there. The dirty carpet and soiled furniture,
showed that eating, drinking, and smoking,
were carried on there in a most slovenly man-
ner. It was even suspected that turkeys and
chickens were roasted before the polished
grate, and carved upon the bare, white, marble
table.

There was a great row one night at his
room. One of the tutors, who came to inquire
into the cause of it, was knocked down by
George with a poker, and taken up for dead.
He was only stunned by the blow, however,
and speedily recovered.

The next day George was sent home—dis-
graced—expelled from college.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SURPRISE.

Wun George Cramer was pursuing his in-
glorious career at college, Howard Framing-
ham and Tom Mixon were diligently pursuing
their studies in Philadelphia. They saw each
other occasionally, and always with pleasure.
One day they met at the Academy of Fine
Arts.

“ Well, Tom, how are you?” said Howard ;
and without waiting for an answer, he said:
“Come this way; I want to show you a model
my master has here at the exhibition.”

Howard led Tom to a small model of an
exchange building, which -the architect had
made.

“There, now, England herself can show
nothing finer than that,” said Howard.
212 BRAGGADOCIO.

Tom was very much pleased with the model,
and still more with the satisfaction Howard
expressed with regard to his “master.” He
told Howard that he was delighted with chem-
istry, which he considered a noble science.
The boys enjoyed together fine pictures and
statues, and parted mutually pleased with the
interview. |

They went on with their studies till June,
and then left for a vacation, delighted to re-
turn to Cramerville.

When Howard stopped at the gate at Rose .
Lawn, he was struck with the neglected ap-
pearance of the place. The paths formerly so
nicely gravelled and rolled, were overgrown
with weeds. The small gate was off the
hinges, and half a dozen cows were quietly
feeding upon the grass among the roses now in
full bloom. Straw and bits of paper were scat-
tered upon the lawn, where formerly not even a
dry leaf was allowed to remain. With anxious
steps, Howard made his way to the front door.
One of the window-blinds of the parlor was
open. He looked in. It was empty. Not an
article of the rich furniture remained. He
A SURPRISE. 913

rang and thumped at the door. No one an-
swered. He ran around to the back piazza.
The driver, meantime, who brought him from
the depot, carried Howard’s trunk and left it
standing upon the front piazza.

What was to be done? Tom had gone to
his own home, and here was Howard alone at |
the deserted house.

He had paid the driver at the gate before
he entered; so there was no one to aid him.
The travelling trunk was a small one. He
shouldered it, and marched off to the brown
cottage.

“There [ am sure I shall find a warm wel-
come. ‘Friends in need, are friends indeed,’
as Bessie used to say.”

Tom had arrived at the brown cottage before
him. Not brown now; for as Howard ap-
proached the well-known spot, he was surprised
to see a neat, white cottage, with green Vene-
tian blinds. It was the same old cottage, to
which paint and green had been a wonderful
improvement. The yard in front was bloom-
ing with roses, honey-suckles, and pansies.
914 BRAGGADOCIO.

Bessie and Tom, who had just got through the
first warm greetings, were startled by a loud
knock at. the front door. Bessie ran to open
it.

There stood Howard, his face as red as a
brick, and streaming with perspiration, his
trunk still upon his shoulder.

“Mr. Framingham! Oh, I had forgotten
till this moment that the Cramers have gone to
Paris. Put down your trunk in the entry, and
come in. I am very glad to see you, sir.”

“To Paris, did you say!” eagerly inquired
Howard Framingham, putting down his trunk.
‘*It is very strange that they did not inform
me of their intention.”

“They have been in New York ever since
the first of March, preparing to go abroad, and
were to sail the first of this month; so Mr.
Starr told me. No doubt you have just missed
a letter by coming away the day before it
arrived. Come in and make yourself at
home.”

“How is this, Tom?’ said Howard; “the
Cramers gone to Paris,”
A SURPRISE. 915

“So Bessie says. Here comes my father.
He can tell us more about it.”

Mixon came in. Overjoyed was he to see
Tom; and the son equally glad to see his
father. Howard was surprised at the change
in Honest Mixon’s appearance. It was quite
equal to the change in the exterior of the
brown cottage. Mixon was no longer a mere
laborer. He had been promoted at the mills
to the place of superintendent of the dyeing
department, and received large wages.

To the question, “ Where are the Cramers ?”
he replied :

“Gone to the old country to eddicaée their
children; but what they want to eddicate them
in that furren place for, when they are to live
in this country, I can’t tell. It seems to mea
very foolish notion. Mr. Cramer has sold -the
mills, and Rose Lawn, too, out and out. And
Tom, I have a deed, signed and sealed, by
which you become the owner of Bessie’s Is-
land.” 7

“The owner! Really, father, is it so.”

“ Sure it is,” said Mixon, unlocking an old
916 BRAGGADOCIO.

desk. ‘* Here is the deed; Mr. Cramer had it
all made out in the right way, and handed it
to me the last time he was up here on busi-
ness.” |

“Sure enough,” said Tom; “I did not
think of being so soon a land proprietor. I
shall be monarch of all I survey, if I can only
buy the house of you, Howard.”

“The house is yours, Tom. I make you a
present of it.”

“Thank you, a thousand times. I shall
prize it as one of the most precious of my pos-
sessions. To think of my owning a house built .
by the celebrated architect (to be), Howard
Framingham, Esq.”

Supper was now ready, and the four sat
down together, and everything had the pecu-
liarly wholesome relish that seemed to belong
to all the meals at the brown cottage.

A letter, as Bessie suspected, had been sent
to Howard by Mr. Cramer, the day before he
sailed for Europe. Mrs. Cramer, he said, was
anxious that her children should be educated
in Paris, and he had yielded to her wishes.
A SURPRISE. 217

During his absence of two years, he wished
Howard to remain with the architect. Through
his banker in New York, Mr: Cramer would
remit money for his expenses. There was a
regret expressed that the family could not see
him at Rose Lawn ; and advice tendered that
Howard should not leave Philadelphia for a
visit to the country.

Glad was Howard that he did not receive
the letter till it was too late to take the advice,
for he passed some charming days at the cot-
tage and on Bessie’s Island. He then returned
to Philadelphia, to prosecute his studies under
the master architect, with his usual ardor and
industry.

The new owner at the mills, Mr. Monroe, be-
came acquainted with Tom Mixon, and hap-
pening to want a clerk to keep the books of
the mills, offered the situation to him. Tom
accepted it on condition that he should be
allowed time to pursue his studies and experi-
ments in chemistry at his laboratory on Bessie’s
Island. This was granted; and Tom, with a
salary of four hundred dollars a year, and
218 BRAGGADOCIO.

the promise of an increase the next year,
commenced his clerkship at the Cramerville
mills.
CONCLUDING CHAPTER.

We must now pass over two or three years,
and we shall come to the day that Howard
Framingham, by his father’s will, comes into
aa gia of his property.

Yes; Howard Framingham is twenty-one.
He had remained in Philadelphia with the
architect, his master, till that very day.

“ Farewell!” said the master; “I may ven-
ture to say, there is not in this country a more
thoroughly-educated artist than Howard Fram-
ingham.”

“Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

“T hope you intend to remain and practice
your art for the benefit of our country.”

“T intend, if my means are sufficient, to

travel in Europe for a year or two, and then to
220 BRAGGADOCIO.

return to this, my adopted country, here to
practice my profession.”

“Success attend you,” said the archi-
tect, giving Howard a cordial shake of the
hand.

In a few hours, Howard found himself in
New York, standing at the door of Mr.
Cramer’s residence. It was a small two story
brick house, in an obscure street of the city.

Mr. Cramer, after his return from Paris, had
entered into speculations of various kinds,
failed, and lost all his property. He was now
a clerk in a bank, with a very limited in-
come.

A shabby-looking maid-servant opened the
door, and showed Howard into a very small
front parlor. Mr. Cramer soon came in, bow-
ing and scraping, and flourishing his hand
towards a chair, in which Howard seated him-
self.

“Great changes have taken place since last
we met, Mr. Framingham. Ups and downs in
life. Here am I, not worth a dollar, and you
this day become the possessor of eighty thou-
sand dollars.”
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 921

“Kighty thousand dollars!” exclaimed
Howard.

“Yes, sir; eighty thousand, and odd, well
invested, bringing you an income of about five
thousand a year. Here are all the papers. As
executor of your father’s will, I have received
a yearly sum, which, for one year, was all the
income that I had from any quarter what-
ever. NowI have a clerkship, Mr. Framing-
ham, and am content. Here are your papers
all made out. I will get my hat and go im-
mediately with you before a magistrate, and
have them sealed, signed, and delivered.”

Mr. Cramer’s hurried manner was evidently
assumed to conceal the embarrassment he felt
in receiving Howard in a house so different
from the mansion at Rose Lawn, and under his
altered circumstances. |

“ But where are Mrs. Cramer and Ada? and
where is George? Shall I not see them?” de-
manded Howard. |

“Mrs. Cramer is engaged, and begs to be
excused. Ada is paying a visit in the country
to her old friend, Mrs. Starr.”

“Mrs. Starr! Is our tutor married.”
222 BRAGGADOCIO.

“Yes; he was married last month to the
daughter of Honest Mixon.”

“* Bessie Mixon! Is it possible !”

“Yes; the Rev. Mr. Starr is still officiating
at the little church near Cramerville.”

Perceiving Mr. Cramer was in haste, Howard
now rose and went with him to have the papers
signed. As they walked along, Howard again
inquired for George Cramer.

“That is a painful subject to me, Mr. Fram-
ingham. My poor boy turned out very differ-
ently from what you have done. I now see the
wisdom of your father in having you educated
for a profession. Your property has increased.
He thought it a small sum for a boy that was
to have been the inheritor of half a million.
I suppose you do not intend to follow the busi-
ness of an architect, with the comfortable for-
tune you now possess.”

“Indeed I do, sir; I am happy to possess
the means of improving myself in my art. I
shall go to Europe, now ; and, Providence per-
mitting, shall return and devote myself to my
chosen and much-loved art, in this my adopted
country.”
CONCLUDING OHAPTER. 223

“ Where George is, God knows, not I,” said
Mr. Cramer. “He ran away from us two
years ago, and went to sea before the mast.
The vessel in which he sailed returned without
him, and he has not been heard of since.”

They were now at the office of the magis-
trate. The papers were all legally executed,
and Howard Framingham took leave of Mr.
Cramer.

In less than an hour after, he was on the
deck of the steamer, and looking upon the
very objects which George Cramer had pointed
out to him when they left New York, years
before, on board the Knickerbocker. Yet, how
changed was Howard Framingham. Now, he
could admire the noble harbor of New York,
and exult in the prosperity and beauty of the
city. He was beginning to feel at home.

On his solitary journey to Cramerville, he
had time for sober reflection, and many plans
for the future were revolved in his mind.

When he reached Cramerville, he drove up
to the “ Hotel,” and having left there his lug-
gage, walked to the brown cottage, to pay a
visit to Honest Mixon and Tom.
294 BRAGGADOCIO.

The house was unoccupied. With a feeling
of sadness he turned away, and walked to the
mills. There he inquired for Mr. Thomas
Mixon. He was shown into a neat, carpeted
office, where sat Thomas Mixon at a mahogany
desk, busily employed in writing.

Halloa, Tom! How are you?”

The well-known voice startled the writer ;
he grasped Howard by the hand, and almost
dislocated the young gentleman’s shoulder
with the heartiness of the shaking he gave
him.

A long conversation followed, in which Tom
informed Howard that he was now chemist and
general superintendent at the mills, receiving
from Mr. Monroe a salary of fifteen hundred
dollars a year, with the prospect of being
taken into partnership in the course of a few
years. Honest Mixon still remained at the
mills as overseer of the dyeing department.
They now occupied a neat house in the village,
and had faithful Molly for their servant and
housekeeper. :

Howard next went to visit the Rev. Mr.
Starr and his wife, at the Rectory. He waited
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 225

a moment in the neat little parlor, before Mrs.
Starr came in. Everything there showed her
taste and skill in housewifery. Bessie was the
same frank, friendly, lively little person as
when she first appeared with her basket on her
arm walking up the lawn.

“* Down, down, Sancho,” said she, as the dog,
delighted to see an old acquaintance, jumped
upon Howard, and licked his hands.

“Naughty dog! You won’t give me a
chance to speak to our friend.”

Ada Cramer now came forward—a pale, tall,
young lady, timid and bashful as ever, and
scarcely lifting her eyes as Mr. Framingham
bowed at a respectful distance.

The Rev. Mr. Starr soon came in. The even-
ing was pleasantly spent in talking over old
times, and forming plans for the future.

“ My first architectural work, shall be a
church for Cramerville,” said Howard. “TI
suppose the workmen from the mills attend
your church.”

“They do; and we want a new one badly.
But where shall we get the money ?”

“JT will attend to that matter,” replied

15
226 BRAGGADOCIO.

Howard. “ A suitable church can be built for
eight or ten thousand dollars.”

No farther questions were asked. The next
day Tom joined the party from the Rectory, and
they went over to Bessie’s Island, and enjoyed
there a cold collation.

Howard was surprised to find in the place
of the wooden house, a small, well-built edifice
of brick, with a tall chimney. It was Thomas
Mixon’s laboratory, where he often retired to
study chemistry, and try experiments.

The day passed delightfully.

The next day Howard Framingham pur-
chased Rose Lawn for six thousand dollars.
The house had fallen into a bad condition, as
it had been uninhabited since the Cramers
Jeft the place. Upon the grounds, Howard
selected a site for the church he intended to
build.

In one year from that time, the church was
completed—a beautiful Gothic edifice, and
presented by Mr. Framingham to the parish
of Cramerville. The house at Rose Lawn was
repaired and beautified, and the grounds put
once more in perfect order.
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 227

He soon after sailed for Europe, for the pur-
pose of improving himself in the art to which
he was enthusiastically devoted. He did not
go alone. The gentle Ada accompanied him
as Mrs. Howard Framingham.

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