Rensselaer Union, Volume 6, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 June 1874 — THE SORROWS OF A. J. PERKINS. [ARTICLE]

THE SORROWS OF A. J. PERKINS.

A schoolboy’s story. His name was Andrew Jackson, but they called him Andy for short; age. about twelve years; he was a youth “ built stromr upon his legs,” after the good, old English pattern. nil Europe wept over an imaginary Wcrther; shall no tear be shod upon a real,, Andy ? Nay, not so. Though he may not have the appearance of one, he is a suffering hero, and he shall be sung! Full many a boy is born to blush unseen, and waste his anguish on the desert air; but Andy shall be plucked and put under people’s noses; perhaps they will afterward be tender toward his kind. Personally, Andy was the average boy. You would not have suspected, as you gazed on his hard, round cheeks and apple nose, that he was the victim of adverse fate. His hair grew thick and bristling over his scalp, reminding one of that good old hymn, “ There’ll be no Parting There!” In vain did his mother essay to blaze a track through this wilderness; the plow may break wild prairie, but comb could not break Andy’s locks. No girlish curls hung upotf his brow. He had no sweet effeminacy—wasn’t a “dear little fellow,” nor a “good boy.” He was that young scoundrel Andrew Perkins, who was always smashing things, and fighting, and getting disgraced; who was a burster of ears; a sauce-box to old ladies, and an elephant on the hands of his nervous mother. Scrapes were Andy’s normal condition. Those thorns of “ought” and “ought not" were forever goading his flesh, if he had one unharrassed moment, this was merely the silence preceding some thunder clap. Andy leaped from his pillow and went forth ’unsuspiciously to a day of woe. These dear boys I they swing their caps and rush into an atmosphere of heartbreak with “ hurrah 1” on their lips. Their brothers are as hard to them as broken banks to their papas, and their despairs partake of that grim desperation with which grown men put their heads into noosed ropes. . Sliding down a stair-railing, as usual, Andy caught one leg and fell, smashing the gas-shades and upsetting a hat-rack, while the brass buttons on his new jacket flew in all directions like sparks. And as their custom was, on such occasions, his father’s household railed against him. His sister wheeled from her piano, frightened out of an Italian squall into a genuine English one; his father got him by the collar and shook him, salting his bruises witfl trite remarks; the younger girls stood around, pious, proper and horrified; and his mother sat down and smelled camphor, wondering if the boy meant to kill her ? Then at the table they would not let him alone. They asked him, sarcastically, what napkins were made for, when he wiped his molasses on the table-cloth; they prevented his putting three biscuits in bis mouth at once; they groaned when he rested his elbow in the bottom of his coffee-cup; they confused him about knives and forks, and raised such a breeze when his gravy ran down on the wrong side of his stomach that Andy went to school desperate, taking the scalps of many a youth on his way. As he wriggled about in his desk and wondered why he was born, he encountered Miss Slocum gazing upon him with her usual superior air. Miss Slocum was a damsel of eight, and though Andy had a soft side and secret admiration for her sex generally he had no such indulgence for her. Her very existence was a continued insult to himself. Were not her praises tooted in his ears from morning till night? His teacher measured his recitations on Mias Slocum’s superior performances; his mother extolled Miss Slocum’s manners, and his lift!" sisters imitated her. No fault was ever found with Miss Slocuin. Andy squinted at her. Miss Slocum resented this. Sho lifted her nose at him. Then there followed a duel of grimaces; Andy nearly floored her with a hideous face made by rolling his eyes upward, sticking his tongue out, and waving his one hand from his nose—just like a triumphant battle flag. But Miss Slocum plucked up heart and lip, puckered her chin and shot a fearful sneer at him. Andy, however, who was the best paper-wad artillerist in school, was not to be killed by blank cartridges; so immediately returned his shot by turninghis eyes upward, sticking his tongue out longer and adding another triumphant banner to the nose-fort. Miss Slocum wavered before such prowess; but she gathered her resources and made up a compound face, which I will call Greekflre; nothing can adequately describe it; it was a feminine masterpiece. But Andy had in reserve another move, which brought her proud crest to the earth; he drew mouth and eye sockett back till they formed complete circles round his head, and came down -on her with the effect of Medusa. His teacher also saw It, and for an instant even she was turned to stone. But she soon recovered herself, and called the injured, weeping Miss Slocum to her side to be comforted w ! th caresses; and then the very properly took that desperate boy into a closet and threshed biiu for his outrageous conduct. Before “ it had quit hurting” Andy had promised to ** lick” so many boys for

laughing at him that the whole day proved a serious campaign. He had poor lessons, and was humbled. He made some disastrous trades, and got such a stock of worthless strings, cracked marbles and bladeless knives on his hands as would have driven a pawnbroker mad. He couldn’t eat his dinner in peace. He was told that “he should be seen and not beard;” but when, in accordance with the desires of his family, he reduced himselfto amerespectacle by upsetting the cranberry sauce over his entire length, they resented the very sight of him. “I can’t do nothing!" howled Andy, sent to his room in disgrace, “ they won’t let me play with the boys, nor even look at the girls, nor eat when I’m hungry—nor nothing! This is a mean old world. I’ll run away and go to sea!” With boys resolution and action are twin, brothers. Andy girded himself to dodge downstairs the moment he could elude his vigilant parents. And, as he meant to run away in good style and according to the letter of storybooks, he felt it incumbent upon him to write a letter of farewell to his Now Andy had once been constrained to Write an epistle of duty to the unfortunate gentleman who had stood godfather to him at his christening, on which occasion he had recourse to an'old letter-book in his father’s library. 80 he now flattered himself he was equal to a heartrending testament, and, finding a stumpy pencil, he sat down and wrote, fragments of the letter-book floating in his mind. Three-quarters of an hour he spent upon his work, which, being finished, he placed under the lid of the Bible he had received for cramming 8,000 verses when his head was younger and tenderer. Andy pictured to himself, with grim pleasure, his weeping household standing around its liejad, who would Jbetween_ many sobs, read the following note: Dear Pairents: i hav run awa and you wont never sec me no More you hav bin very Uarach and tirannicle when i am off making Munuy praps yon will repent my undutiful conduct. So no more the girls may have my tolse. Your obedyent servant Audrew jacksou perklDS. Before the evening gas was lighted he struck out and attempted to set his face seaward. But Andy’s geographical knowledge was limited; he wished he had consulted a map before he started, for he knew not which way to turn. He, moreover, regretted sincerely not having filled his pockets with cookies. It was a November night, and Andy hadn’t been allowed to partake of the evening repast. He will remember that night. I think I see the dear boy wandering up and down, blowing bravely on his red fingers, watching the flaring gas jets, putting a fist into his eye occasionally. He saw life that night —•- It did not appear he could realize his “ munny” immediately. Before ten the boy spirit was cooled. He stole back to his father’s door, but had not courage to ring. Then he wondered how he could stand it out all night. Here and there rambled Andy. He stood in the shadow of the doorway (evading a policeman) of the house where Miss May lived. Miss May was a young lady whom he specially admired. He felt a strong desire to see her that evening. And as he stood, crying silently, like a little soldier, because he was so cold he could hardly stand it, the door opened and a gentleman emerged whom Miss May bade a lingering and really affectionate •goodnight. Bhe stood an instant watching her lover before she closed the door, and in this instant Andy exploded with a big sob. After screaming, as all orthodox young ladies do, Miss May recovered herself ana drew the child in. Here is a sacred picture in Andy’s life. He will never tell anyone how happy he was one hour, sitting in the heart of a warm room at Miss May’s feet,.taking his supper and unloading his heart to her. She was a woman who loved and understood boys; their brusquerie, their heavy antics, their overplus of spirits never made her “ nervous.” She had helped to bring up several boys creditably and joyously, and was now about to try her hand on somebody else’s brother. “ If they’d only let me be,” stufflug unlimited tarts into his mouth, “ but I never can do nothing 1” - ’ Miss May smoothed the brown hand which Andy, in a gush of confidence, yielded to her (your sturdiest boys have a sneaking fondness for being petted), and as she gazed into the grate she fretted within herself—” Why is it that parents will drive these baby-men desperate; that teachers will try to cram them—will sit on the safety-valve of their natures ? I wish I had all the boys! I’d make a boys’ paradise I They should walk on their ears if they wanted, but they should likewise know the best use of their ears. They should live their honest, joyous hearts out; and never learn to sneak, lo lie, to whine, to cant, to ape Miss Nancy, to sacrifice their sense of right and throng to the mere pleasing of some other person 1 Oh, I’d—” And here the proverb about maids’ children and bachelors’ wives came into her mind. She laughed aloud and stooped to kiss Andy. It was such a hearty, wholesome kiss that he took it without sheep-facedness. It was decided that, a 3 his parents believed him asleep in his own bower, they should not be notified of his running away, and that night Andy slept in Miss May's house. Early next morning he laid a hand on the note which was to have fallen like a thunderbolt on his people and sent it to oblivion. He walked as circumspectly as Andy could. But a Micawber-like fit of letter-writing-seemed to have seized hun. Though he could fly to his comforter when trouble lowered, and though she never denied him a personal interview, Andy sought a pen, with which he hacked the English language and spilt ink like black gore upon a large cap sheet. His honest little heart spouted forth to the one who appreciated and helped him: Dear Mies May; i dident get licked all day and had my ioggerfy,Jnat hokey good i touched my cap to old mis pease and mama sed that looked better than rnnnin over her like i always did i love you if i goln to get married 1 wood marry you. your obedyent servent ’ * Andrew Jackson perkins. —Locke'i National Monthly. —I- *** As the steamer Alexander Mitchell was putting off freight at Alma, Wis., a keg of wine fell into the river. The mate insisted upon one of the deck hands, a negro, jumping in after it. The negro objected, upon the ground that he could not swim. The male took him by the Collar and pants,to pitch him in, but, as drowning men will catch pX straws, so the negro fastened On the mate’s' collar, and they both went in together, the mate clear under, the negro to his chin. They both dune out wiser and wetter men.