The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories
WIT INSPIRATIONS OF THE "TWO-YEAR-OLDS"
All infants appear to have an impertinent and disagreeable fashionnowadays of saying "smart" things on most occasions that offer, andespecially on occasions when they ought not to be saying anything atall. Judging by the average published specimens of smart sayings, therising generation of children are little better than idiots. And theparents must surely be but little better than the children, for in mostcases they are the publishers of the sunbursts of infantile imbecilitywhich dazzle us from the pages of our periodicals. I may seem to speakwith some heat, not to say a suspicion of personal spite; and I do admitthat it nettles me to hear about so many gifted infants in these days,and remember that I seldom said anything smart when I was a child. Itried it once or twice, but it was not popular. The family were notexpecting brilliant remarks from me, and so they snubbed me sometimesand spanked me the rest. But it makes my flesh creep and my blood runcold to think what might have happened to me if I had dared to uttersome of the smart things of this generation's "four-year-olds" where myfather could hear me. To have simply skinned me alive and considered hisduty at an end would have seemed to him criminal leniency toward oneso sinning. He was a stern, unsmiling man, and hated all forms ofprecocity. If I had said some of the things I have referred to, and saidthem in his hearing, he would have destroyed me. He would, indeed. Hewould, provided the opportunity remained with him. But it would not, forI would have had judgment enough to take some strychnine first and saymy smart thing afterward. The fair record of my life has been tarnishedby just one pun. My father overheard that, and he hunted me over fouror five townships seeking to take my life. If I had been full-grown, ofcourse he would have been right; but, child as I was, I could not knowhow wicked a thing I had done.
I made one of those remarks ordinarily called "smart things" beforethat, but it was not a pun. Still, it came near causing a seriousrupture between my father and myself. My father and mother, my uncleEphraim and his wife, and one or two others were present, and theconversation turned on a name for me. I was lying there trying someIndia-rubber rings of various patterns, and endeavoring to make aselection, for I was tired of trying to cut my teeth on people'sfingers, and wanted to get hold of something that would enable me tohurry the thing through and get something else. Did you ever noticewhat a nuisance it was cutting your teeth on your nurse's finger, or howback-breaking and tiresome it was trying to cut them on your big toe?And did you never get out of patience and wish your teeth were in Jericolong before you got them half cut? To me it seems as if these thingshappened yesterday. And they did, to some children. But I digress. Iwas lying there trying the India-rubber rings. I remember looking at theclock and noticing that in an hour and twenty-five minutes I would betwo weeks old, and thinking how little I had done to merit the blessingsthat were so unsparingly lavished upon me. My father said:
"Abraham is a good name. My grandfather was named Abraham."
My mother said:
"Abraham is a good name. Very well. Let us have Abraham for one of hisnames."
I said:
"Abraham suits the subscriber."
My father frowned, my mother looked pleased; my aunt said:
"What a little darling it is!"
My father said:
"Isaac is a good name, and Jacob is a good name."
My mother assented, and said:
"No names are better. Let us add Isaac and Jacob to his names."
I said:
"All right. Isaac and Jacob are good enough for yours truly. Pass methat rattle, if you please. I can't chew India-rubber rings all day."
Not a soul made a memorandum of these sayings of mine, for publication.I saw that, and did it myself, else they would have been utterly lost.So far from meeting with a generous encouragement like other childrenwhen developing intellectually, I was now furiously scowled upon by myfather; my mother looked grieved and anxious, and even my aunt had abouther an expression of seeming to think that maybe I had gone too far. Itook a vicious bite out of an India-rubber ring, and covertly broke therattle over the kitten's head, but said nothing. Presently my fathersaid:
"Samuel is a very excellent name."
I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing could prevent it. I laid down myrattle; over the side of the cradle I dropped my uncle's silver watch,the clothes-brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, the nutmeg-grater, andother matters which I was accustomed to examine, and meditate upon andmake pleasant noises with, and bang and batter and break when I neededwholesome entertainment. Then I put on my little frock and my littlebonnet, and took my pygmy shoes in one hand and my licorice in theother, and climbed out on the floor. I said to myself, Now, if the worsecomes to worst, I am ready. Then I said aloud, in a firm voice:
"Father, I cannot, cannot wear the name of Samuel."
"My son!"
"Father, I mean it. I cannot."
"Why?"
"Father, I have an invincible antipathy to that name."
"My son, this is unreasonable. Many great and good men have been namedSamuel."
"Sir, I have yet to hear of the first instance."
"What! There was Samuel the prophet. Was not he great and good?"
"Not so very."
"My son! With His own voice the Lord called him."
"Yes, sir, and had to call him a couple times before he could come!"
And then I sallied forth, and that stern old man sallied forth afterme. He overtook me at noon the following day, and when the interviewwas over I had acquired the name of Samuel, and a thrashing, and otheruseful information; and by means of this compromise my father's wrathwas appeased and a misunderstanding bridged over which might have becomea permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. But just judgingby this episode, what would my father have done to me if I hadever uttered in his hearing one of the flat, sickly things these"two-years-olds" say in print nowadays? In my opinion there would havebeen a case of infanticide in our family.