Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
BOYS AND GIRLS OF COLONIAL DAYS
Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
"THE YOUNGEST SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION"]
BOYS AND GIRLS OF COLONIAL DAYS
BY
CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY
Author of
"What To Do for Uncle Sam," "Boys and Girls OfPioneer Days" and other stories
ILLUSTRATED BY
ULDENE SHRIVER
1925
A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS The Pink Tulip Big Hawk's Decoration The Soap Making of Remember Biddle The Beacon Tree The Jack-O'-Lantern Witch The Iron Stove A Boston Tea Party The Deacon's Grasshopper Patience Arnold's Sampler The Star Lady The Flag of Their Regiment The Boy Who Had Never Seen An Indian Dick, the Youngest Soldier Betsy's Guest
ILLUSTRATIONS
"The Youngest Soldier of the Revolution" Amsterdam "The Kettle Bubbled and Sang a Cheerful Welcome to Love" Jan and his Dog Cart "The Log Cabin was but a Rough Home" "'I Tied Master Biddle's Queue to his Chair'" "He Pointed Toward his Tribe's Camping Place" "'Shall I be Alone for Thanksgiving Day, Mother, Dear?'" "Remember Brought Pails of Water" "The Indian, Helping himself to a Huge Handful of the Soap, Washed his Hands Solemnly" "Hannah Dipped the Wicks for a Second in the Melted Tallow" The Town Crier "The Little White Boy ... Had Printed Strange Characters" "He Beat the Heavy Oak Panels with his Half-frozen, Brown Little Hands" "'Do You Know who the Witch Is, Desire?' He asked" "Granny Hewitt Loved the Boys and Girls" "The Jack-0'-Lantern Witch" "They Took their Homeward Way through the Snow" The First Stove "The Wayward Little Girl, Perched High upon the Dunce's Stool" Colonial Furniture "Susan Deliberately Tipped her Cup, Throwing the Tea, Untasted, on the Grass" "He Perched himself upon a Stool beside his Work Bench" Faneuil Hall, Boston "'Give me the Key, I Say'" Patience Arnold's Sampler "'I Could Hear but not be Seen'" Colonial Spinning Wheel and Clock Colonial Silver "'It Is Hard, William, To Be a Girl ... with Nothing To Do but Sit at Home'" "'My Cooking Has Been Done on Sticks over the Fire'" "Eli Stepped Out ... Alone and Unprotected" Two of the Farm Hands "Little Mistress of the Mansion"
BOYS AND GIRLS OF COLONIAL DAYS
THE PINK TULIP
Peering over the edge of the boat rail, Love strained her weary, blueeyes for a glimpse of land. The sun, a ball of soft, gold light, showednow through the haze, and suddenly, like a fairy place the cityappeared. There were tall, shining towers, gold church spires, pointedroofs with wide, red chimneys where the storks stood in one-leggedfashion, and great windmills with their long arms stretched out to catchthe four winds. Amsterdam, in Holland, it was, the haven of this littleboat load of Pilgrims.
Love Bradford, ten years old, flaxen haired, and as winsome as anEnglish rose in June, wrapped her long, gray cloak more closely abouther and turned to one of the women.
"Do you think that my father may have taken another boat that sailedfaster than this and is waiting for me on the shore, Mistress Brewster?The last words that he said to me when he left me on the ship were 'Bidepatiently until I come, Love; I will not be long.' That was many daysago."
Mistress Brewster turned away that the little girl might not see thetears that filled her eyes. Love's father, just before the ship thatbore the Pilgrims from England had sailed, had been cast into prison bythe King, because of his faith. Love was all alone, but MistressBrewster did not want her to know of her father's fate.
"Perhaps your father will meet you some day soon in Holland. Surely, ifhe said that he would not be long, he will keep his word. See, Love, seethe little boy of your own age down there in the fishing boat."
Love looked in the direction in which the woman pointed. A plump, rosylittle boy with eyes as blue as Love's own and dressed in full browntrousers and clumsy wooden shoes sat on a big net in one end of theboat. He looked up as the sails of the little fishing craft brought italongside the boat that bore the wanderers from England. At first hedropped his eyes in shyness at sight of the little girl. Then he liftedthem again and, as his eyes met hers, the two children smiled at eachother. It was like a flash of sunshine piercing the gray haze that hungover the sea.
There were friends waiting on the shore for all save Love. Olderbrothers these were, fathers and other relatives who had made thepilgrimage from England a few months before and had homes ready for themall. They climbed a long hill, very flat on the top, and reached by aflight of steps. Then they were as high as the trees that lined thebeach and could look over the narrow streets, the tidy cottages withtheir red roofs, and the pretty gardens. There were many little canals,like blue ribbons, cutting the green fields.
"Welcome to Amsterdam!" said a Dutch housewife, in wide white cap andapron, who met them. She put her hand on Love's yellow hair. "And inwhich house are you going to live, little English blossom?" she askedkindly.
Love looked up wonderingly into her face and there was a whisperedconsultation between Mistress Brewster and the Amsterdam woman. "Poorlittle blossom! She shall come home with me. There is always room forone more in the stork's nest," the Dutch woman said kindly. She tookLove's hand and led her away from the others, and along the canal.
The house where they stopped was very odd indeed. It was made of red andyellow bricks and it stood on great posts sunk deep into the ground.Opening the white door that fairly shone, it was so clean, they were inthe kitchen. Such a kitchen it was, so cosy and so quaint! The floor wasmade of white tiles and there was a queer little fireplace. It lookedlike a big brass pan filled with coals, and there was a shining copperkettle hung over it by a chain from the ceiling. The kettle bubbled andsang a cheerful welcome to Love. There were stiff white curtains at thewindows and, on the sill of one, was a row of blossoming plants. Blueand white dishes and a pair of tall candlesticks stood on a shelf. Lovecould see a bright sitting room beyond and another room where there wasa strange bed built in the wall, and stretching almost from the floor tothe ceiling.
"Jan, Jan," the woman called. "Come in from the garden and offer yournew little English sister a seed cake. You may have one yourself, too.You have long wished for a playmate and here is one come to live in thehouse with you."
The door opened slowly and in came Jan. He did not look up at first.Then his eyes caught Love's. It was the little boy of the fishing boat.His dear mother it was who had offered to take care of lonely littleLove.
"THE KETTLE BUBBLED AND SANG A CHEERFUL WELCOME TO LOVE"]
"You may help me drive the dogs that draw the milk wagon," Jan said toLove the next morning after they had become very well acquainted overtheir breakfast of milk and oatmeal cakes.
"And so I can help to earn money for your kind mother," Love said withshining eyes.
Jan had two dogs and a little two-wheeled cart to which he harnessedthem every morning. Into the cart his mother put two shining pails ofmilk and a long handled dipper for measuring. To-day she put in someround, white cheeses and golden balls of butter. Off started the cartalong the narrow street with Love running gaily along one side and Janclattering along in his wooden shoes on the other side. The dogs knewwhere to stop almost as well as Jan did for they had made the trip somany times. The cheese and butter were soon gone, and every one had apleasant smile for the little English lass. At one cottage, a Dutchhousewife brought out a strange, earth-colored bulb that she put inLove's hands. Then, smiling down into the little girl's wondering fa
ce,she said:
"It is a rare one indeed. I give it to you that you may plant it andtend it all winter. When the spring comes, you will have a finer onethan any child in all Amsterdam."
Love thanked the woman but she puzzled over the hard, dry bulb as sheand Jan walked home beside the empty milk cart. "It looks like nothingbut an onion. What good is it, Jan?"
Jan's eyes twinkled. "I know, but I won't tell," he said. "I want you tobe surprised next spring. Come, Love, we will plant it in the corner ofthe garden that the sun shines on first in the spring. Then we willwait."
As Jan dug a hole and Love planted the bulb, his words repeatedthemselves in the little girl's lonely heart. She remembered, too, whather dear father had said last to her, "Wait patiently until I come,Love." Would her patience bring the hard bulb to life or her fatherback, Love wondered sorrowfully.
The days passed, with blue skies and the bright sun shining down uponthe canal, and then grew shorter. The storks flew south, and Love wasvery happy. Her days with Jan were busy, merry ones. She, too, hadwooden shoes now; and Jan's mother had made her a warm red skirt and avelvet girdle and a little, green, quilted coat. Love looked like a reallittle Dutch girl as she skated to school, with her knitting in herschool bag to busy her fingers with when it was recess time.
There was never any place in England, Love thought, so merry and gay asthe frozen canal in front of her new home in Holland. Everybody was onskates; the market women with wooden yokes over their shoulders, fromwhich hung baskets of vegetables; and even a mother skating and holdingher baby in a snug nest made of a shawl on her back. The old doctorskated, with his pill bag on one arm, to see a sick patient at the otherend of the town; and long rows of happy children glided by, holding eachother's coats and twisting and twining about like a gay ribbon.
"Are you not glad, Love, that you came here to Holland to be my sister?"Jan asked as, holding her hand in his, he skated with Love to school.
"I am glad, Jan," Love laughed back. "I feel as if it were a story bookthat I am living in, and you and your dear mother and our house and thecanal were the pictures in it. But, oh, Jan, I wish very much that Icould see my father--so tall and brave and strong!" Then she stopped. "Wemust be hastening, Jan," she said, "or we shall be late for school." Butto herself, Love was saying, "Be patient."
Spring came early that year in Amsterdam. The ice melted and the canalswere once more blue ribbons of water. The sails of the windmillswhirred, and the housewives scrubbed their sidewalks until the stoneswere clean enough to eat from. The storks built again in the redchimneys and, everywhere, the tulips burst into bloom. Love had neverseen such beautiful flowers in all her life. There was no garden in allAmsterdam so small or so poor as not to have a bed of bright red andyellow tulips.
With the first sunshine, Love went out to the garden where she and Janhad planted the ugly, hard bulb. How wonderful; her patience had beenrewarded! There were two tall, straight green leaves and between them,like a wonderful cup upon its green stem, a great, beautiful tulip. Itwas larger than any of the others. It was not red or yellow like theothers, but pink, like a rose, or a sunrise cloud, or a baby's cheek.
"Come, Jan; come, mother," cried Love, and then the three stood aboutthe pink tulip in admiration.
"It is the most beautiful tulip in all Amsterdam," said Jan.
"It is worth money," said his mother. "Some one would pay a good pricefor the bulb."
Love remembered what Jan's mother had said. As the days passed and thepink tulip opened wider and showed a deeper tint each day, a plan beganto form in the little girl's mind. She knew that there was not very muchmoney in Jan's home to which she had been so kindly welcomed. She knew,too, that nothing was so dear to the people of Holland as their tulips.Strange tales were told; how they sold houses, cattle, land, everythingto buy tulip bulbs.
JAN AND HIS DOG CART]
One Saturday when Jan was away doing an errand for his mother, Love dugup her precious pink tulip and planted it carefully in a large flowerpot. With the pot hugged close to her heart, she went swiftly away fromthe house, down the long steps, and as far as the road that led alongthe coast of the sea below the dike. Here, where great merchant shipsfrom all over the world anchored almost every day, Love felt sure thatsome one would see her tulip and want to buy it.
There was such a crowd,--folk of many nations busy unloadingcargoes,--that at first no one saw the little girl with the flower in herarms. Up and down the shore she walked, a little frightened but brave.She held the flower high, and called in her sweet voice, "A rare pinktulip. Who will buy my pink tulip?"
Intent on holding the flower carefully, she came suddenly in front of aman who had been walking in lonely fashion up and down the shore. Sheheard him call her name eagerly.
"Love! Love! Oh, my little Love!"
Looking up, Love almost dropped the tulip in her joy. Then she set itdown and rushed into his arms.
"Father, dear father! Oh, where have you been so long?" she cried.
It was a story told between laughter and tears. Goodman Bradford, only ashort time since released from prison, had come straight to Amsterdam,but he had been able to find no trace of Love. Mistress Brewster hadgone on with the Pilgrims to America, and there was no one to tellGoodman Bradford where his little daughter was. Now, he could make ahome for her and reward Jan's mother.
"I was patient," Love said, "as you bade me be, and see," she cried as,hand in hand, they reached the quaint little cottage where Jan and hismother stood at the door to greet them, "in good time they both came tome--the pink tulip, and my father."