Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 October 1875 — HOW IT WENT. [ARTICLE]

HOW IT WENT.

A Story for tlie Young Folks. Wyatt and Snaps were cousins—their fathers were brothers. Snaps’ real name was Horace Brownell; but when he w r as a very little fellow, without suspenders, he took to living almost entirely’ on gingersnaps. So his papa, who was a joker, began calling him Snaps; and then his mother took to calling him Snaps, because she was very apt to do what his papa did. Then his sisters, Mamie and Fanny, commenced calling him Snaps, because they always tried to imitate mamma, except when she did such things as mending and dusting. Then Mamie’s and Fanny’s playmates said Snaps instead of Horace; and so the matter grew until everybody called him Snaps, and almost nobody remembered that he had any other name. The winter that Snaps was twelve years old his father agreed to pay him eight dollars for the job of keeping the walks about the house cleared of snow. When Snaps told his cousin Wyatt about this agreement Wyatt insisted upon making with his father a like agreement. Thus it came to pass that about the last of March each of the cousins had the magnificent sum of eight dollars. The question for us to consider is how it went. Of course, some of it—not much, how. ever—went on April-fools’ day. Then some of it went kiting. Spring brings kites just as surely as it brings swallows. Snaps and Wyatt undertook to get up some fancy rigs—“ Great Easterns” they were to be among kites. They were to be nearly as large as Mr. Showers’ barn-door, which was a very large door. The boys sot a carpenter to make the kite-frames. 'hen they bought some strong, handsome paper, some gum-stick-’em (as they called the mucilage), and a great deal of strong string. I don’t know but that they expected their kites to fly to the moon. They were very handsome affairs when finished. Wyatt’s had a gilt star blazing like gold in the center; while Snaps’ carried a crescent moon in silver. The flying of the kites took place one bright Saturday morning at nine o’clock, amid the assembled boys and girls of the village. You would have thought, from the eager talk and the eager faces, that two balloons were going up from the Square, for the spectators were by no means confined to children. Men stood in theirshopdoors, and even on the Square; while women waited on the sidewalks or gazed from their windows. The kites behaved beautifully. They rose gracefully and steadily up and up and up, looking, with their scarlet and gold, like two magnificent tropical birds. One could scarcely put his head out-doors that day without seeing those bright wings sailing against the sky, and each time, doubtless, at the end'of the string was a different pair of hands —now a boy’s, now a girl’s —for Snaps and Wyatt let all the children take turns, until all had felt the strong pull of tho monsters. When I tell you how Wyatt and Snaps spent the next money I think you will laugh. They invested it in a razor and some shaving-soap. What for? Well, they wanted some whiskers, you see. After this investment each of the capitalists bought a bottle of cologne. The following day Wyatt said, as the two were walking home from school: “ Isay, Snaps, isn’t that Bob Davidson the leanest, hol-low-eyedest feller that your eyes ever lit on?” “He is so; and I’ll tell you what ’tis, Wyatt,” Snaps said: “I don’t believe he get 3 enough to eat. He always looks hungry to me.” “Let’s treat him,” said Wyatt, briskly. “Say we do,” Snaps answered just as briskly. “ Hello, Bob! come here!” Wyatt called back to Bob, who was walking behind them. “Come into this grocery; we’re going to treat you.” “Law! is year?” said Bob, coming up on a trot, grinning all over. “ You all’s mighty commerdatm’.” Bob Davidson was a black boy, you understand. The three boys stepped into the store. “What’ll you take?” Wyatt asked. “ What do you like best?” Bob rolled his great white eyes all about the store among the boxes and barrels and baskets. Then he turned them up to the ceiling in profound meditation. Then he studied the floor, and again looked all around the store, his lank body slowly revolving as on a pivot. “What’ll you take?” Snaps repeated. “ What do you like best?” Bob, as if about to take a fataiqffunge, drew a long breath, rolled his eyes from the boys to the smiling shopman, smacked his lips, giggled, and answered: “ Lasses.’\ Wyatt and Snaps burst out laughing; but they had the grocer fill Bob’s dinner pail with the thing he liked best? This brings,us to the grand speculation. One Saturday morning the cousins were on the Square playing marbles, when they saw a farm-wagon passing with ever so many baskets of strawberries. ** < “ How do you sell your strawberries?” Wyatt called. The man did not hear, but went rattling on. “**''

“ Ho, there!” shouted, Snaps; “ what’s the price of your berries ?” ’ Both boys now rap after the farmer. calling for him to stop, which he did after a time. “ Twenty cents the basket,” replied the farmer, lifting the grape-leaves from one basket and another of the scarlet beauties. “ Just picked this morning,” he added. The boys climbed upon the wheels- and looked longingly at the fruit. “ Let you have three baskets for half-a-dollar.” ‘ ‘ What’ll you take for the lot ?’ ’ Wyatt couldn’t have told, to save his teeth, why he asked this question. He had no more thought of buying the whole lot than he had of buying out Jhe circus that was expected next week. “ Well, let’s see,” said the farmer; but, instead of seeing, he shut his eyes up close and bent his forehead on his hand. “They’s thirty-five baskets. I’ll let ye hev the hull uv em fer four dbllars, seein’ it’s you; that’s less’n a shillin’ a basket. That’s dreadful cheap, an’ I wouldn’t let ye hev um fer no sich money es ye wus men an’ women. But bein’ ye’re boys ye kin take um. Ye kin easy git twenty-two cents the basket. I’d git that es I had time to wait on the sales; but, ye see, I want to git back to hum. I’ve got a lot uv young beets that’s that full uv weeds they’re nigh choked to death. I want to git hum to weed um ’fore Sunday, else the weeds’ll git clean the start uv me. Weeds don’t keep no Sunday, ye know; ’pears like they growed twicet as fast Sunday as week-days, anyhow. Ye kin hev the hull lot fer four dollars,” he repeated, “ an’ that’s just givin’um away. Ye’ll double your money fore sundown.” “ Say we take ’em,” said Wyatt. “ All right,” was Snaps’ answer. Then the subject of the baskets came up; so the boys promised solemnly to leave them, when emptied, at Mr. Nodler’s grocery, where the farmer would call for them. Then Wyatt ran over to the savings bank to draw the money. Well, the money was paid and the strawberries were delivered on the sidewalk. After discussing matters the boys agreed, in the first place, to eat each a basket of the berries. Then they decided to set up a stand on the corner of the square for the sale of the remainder. Wyatt borrowed one chair from his father’s office, which was near at hand, and another from his mother’s kitchen, which was quite removed. By the way, while at home he offered his mother the whole or any part of the thirty-three baskets at twenty-two cents. But she had already bought 'six baskets that day at eighteen cents. Then Wyatt offered his at eighteen cents for canning; but it was baking-day and cliurning-day, and the mother decided that she could not possibly take any additional work. This was a disappointment to Wyatt, for he had confidently reckoned on disposing of a dozen baskets to Ms mother. Snaps’ mother was out qf toty6. The speculators-hOTrowed a plank; this, resting on the/jtmairs, made the stand for the baskets. These were speedily put in artistic and tempting array. Then the boys wiped their hands and faces, combed their hair with their fingers, touched up their neck-ties, straightened themselves up and made ready for the rush of customers with which they would be assailed. They sauntered about the plank, sniffing at the berries, occasionally eating one, looking meanwhile up and down the street for customers. A half-hour went slowly by. “ Yonder comes Billy Barlow,” said Snags. “ I’ll bet he’ll want trade his old barlow-knife for some berries. He’s been tryin’ for a year to get somebody to trade something or other for that old, brokenbladed, rickerty knife.” - Billy Barlow’s right name was William Williams, but, as Snaps had said, he had a barlow-knife. It was the only thing in the world over which he had undisputed control. The one blade was broken and the rivets were loose. But Billy ever had it on display and was ever trying to trade it for any conceivable boy-property. Hence his schoolmates had given him the name of Billy Barlow. “Why, what sights of strawberries!” exclaimed B. B. “Are they yourn?”— and he ran his hungry eye up and down the double line of baskets. “Of course they’re ours,” replied Snaps, with quiet superiority. “Goin’ to sell ’em?” “Of course,” said Snaps, in like superiority. “We didn’t.buy them to give away,” he added, by way of forestalling a possible request. “How much are they?” asked Billy Barlow, with his hand in his ragged packet. “ Twenty-two cents a basket,” and then Snaps winked at Wyatt, as much as to say, “ Look out now for the barlow-knife.” “ That’s what I ask for a knife I’ve got,” said B. 8., rummaging around for the said article, amid the balls and strings and marbles and slate-pencils which a bov’s pocket is sure to hold. Here ’tis,” he said, directly, holding out the knife before Snaps’ eyes. “I’ve seen it before,” said Snaps, coolly, looking away down the street. “ I’ll swap it for one of them baskets of strawberries.” “ I don’t think you will,” Wyatt answered. “It’s a first-rate knife,” said B.B.,with the sad light of disappointment in his eyes. Snaps whispered a few words in the ear of his partner. “ All right,” Wyatt answered aloud. “ Look here, Barlow,’’'Snaps said; “ I don’t want your knife—l wouldn’t give jt pocket-room. You’ve tried to trade it to every boy in this town. We’re all tired hearing about that old barlow. Now, if you’ll throw it as far as you can send it we’ll give you a, basket of berries.” “ It’s a bargain,” said Billy Barlow. He placed himself in position, and threw the knife half-way across the Square. “All right; take your basket,” Snaps said, with a good feeling at his heart. Billy walked down one side of the plank and up the other. Then,he picked out the basket which seemed the nearest fufl'and to have the largest, ripfest berries. With this he.walked off in the direction his knife had gone. A few days after he was discovered trying to trade it to a little girl for a half-stick or liquorice.

But that Saturday morning he met, a little way on his walk (or run, rather), Bob Davidson--. Of cniirsa he told Rnk about the strawberries, and, of course, Bob took a bee-line across the Square for the strawberry-plank. It was during the war and .Bob Davidson had been from the South'only a few weeks. All the schooling with which the town had been able to innoculate him during that period had not sufficed to cure his Southern dialect. “Law! what’s you all got dar?” Bob asked, his hungry eyes looking hungrier than ever Billy’s had looked, as they ran along the bright line of baskets. “Law! is you all gwine lo hab a strawberry festibul fer Mass Linkum’s soldiers an’ de countryban’s?” “ No, we ain’t,” Wyatt answered, in a bluff way. “ We’re goin to sell ’em for twenty-two cents a basket.” “ Strawberries would tas’ mighty good ’long wid dem dar ’lasses you all gim me. You all’s de p’lites’ boys in town, showls I’s baun.” Here Snaps said in an undertone to Wyatt: “ I never saw anybody want strawberries so bad in my life. Let’s give him a basket.” Bob’s great eyes, rolling from one face to the other, plainly discerned that the boys were pleased with his compliment. “ I ain’t got no money dis berry minit, but es you all gim me some strawberries I’ll gim you all sumpum—will so.” “ What’ll you give us ?” Wyatt asked. Bob thrust one hand in his one pocket and assumed the meditative attitude of a philosopher. “What’ll you give?” urged Wyatt, after a pause long enough for Bob to make an inventory of a very extensive personal property. “ Sumpum mighty good,” said the noncommittal Bob. “Butwhat?” persisted Wyatt. “You must tell us or we can’t trade.” Bob took another meditative attitude and rolled his eyes in a frantic way, as if he was trying to see something very difficult to find. “ What’ll you give us ?” This question again urgently assailed him. “ I tell yer,” said Bob, with the air of one who has reached the solution of a difficult problem. “ I’ll take de berries long to de houss” (to his home he meant); “den I’ll fotch de what-you-may-call-it straight back —wish I may die if I don’t!” The boys had soft places in their hearts for Bob; they were aching to give him a basket, so they agreed to his proposal and he bore away the berries.

The next customer was Miss Burchett. She was a tall, thin woman, with steel-col-ored eyes and iron-gray hair. She wore a Shaker bonnet with a brown silk skirt to it, and her calico dress was very stiffly starched, t “I heard you had strawberries; are they perfectly fresh and perfectly ripe?” She asked this much as a lawyer would cross-examine a witness. Both boys were scared and subdued by her manner. “Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt meekly answered to her question. “ How do you know they are?” she asked in the same lawyer-like tone. “The man said they were.” All this time Miss Burchett was turning one basket and another against a pi ate she carried, inspecting the berries through her gold-bowed glasses, smelling at each lot and doing what seemed to the boys a most unnecessary amount of tasting. “ What man ?” she asked. “The man we bought them from,” Wyatt answered. “ And who is he? What’s his name?” “I don’t know, ma’am.” “ Then I don’t want your berries,” Miss Burchett said, with emphasis. “ I never buy any berries unless i know who picked them; nor any butter, or milk, or sausages, or anything, unless I know who made it. I’m very particular about my eating. Ido wish I didn’t have to eat any victuals that other folks had been performing over.” With this speech she transferred a few other fine berries from the baskets to her mouth, and took her departure. “ I wonder if she has to be introduced to the hens before she’ll eat their eggs?” Snaps said, with a petulant sneer. “ She yarns, anyhow,” Wyatt suggested, ’cause how can she know who makes the sugar and coffee, and tea and flour, and lots of things she eats? She kept eatin’ strawberries all the while, anyhow. She’s mean and stuck-up, too.” “Here comes Mrs. Pulsifer,” said Snaps. “She’s deaf, you know; you’ll have to split your throat to make her hear.” “ How d’ye do, little dears?” said Mrs. Pulsifer, smiling and giving a funny little curtsy. “We’re well.” Wyatt delivered this reply with such a shout that a man across the street turned and stared about. “She talks as if we were babies,” Snaps said, id an undertone of contempt' to Wyatt, thinking, meanwhile, of the razor and shaving-soap hid away in his cham-ber-closet.

“ How do you sell your berries?” asked Mrs. Pulsifer, still smiling, and hollowing her hand to her ear to receive the answer. ‘‘Twenty-two cents,” Wyatt said, with more moderation of tone. “Thirty-two cents? I’ll give you thirty," said the smiling old lady. “ I said twenty-two cents,” said Wyatt. “Oh! twenty-two cents! I’ll give you. twenty.” Mrs. Pulsifer delighted above all things on earth to make a bargain—to get things for less than other people gave. When the boys had agreed to her offer she proposed to take two baskets for thir-ty-five cents, and, when they had again acceded, she offered sixty cents for four baskets. The partners'accepted this offer, and then she was afraid, as it was Saturday, that she couldn’t use more than one basket. “ Four baskets at sixty will make fifteen for one.” She opened her purse. “I’ve just got fourteen cents in change,” she said; “but you don’t mind about one cent, I know,” and she smiled blandly as she laid the money on the plank. Then she helped herself to the best basket she could pick out. Snaps felt mad enough to cry, and might have cried if two boys and a small girl hadn’t just then come on the ground. They were soon joined by

two girls and a small boy. Things began to look brisk —business prospects to brighter Indeed-,*tbe children gChgTally had got wind of the strawberry-stand on the Square, and they were beginning to gather from all quarters, like yellowjackets about a molasses-jug. Big boys were seen hurrying toward the attractive spot, with their little brothers running and crying in the vain endeavor of keeping up; large girls came, impatiently tugging their little sisters. Soon there were assembled over two dozen ehildren about the straw-berry-stand. “Now we’ll begin to haul in the money,” Snaps thought. The children gazed and talked, and walked around the plank, and counted the baskets, and “hefted” them, and tasted the berries to see if they were fresh, and to see if they were ripe, and to? see if they were sweet, and to see if they were tart, and to see if they would make good shortcake, and if they would make good pies, and if they were good for jam, and if they were good for strawberry-vinegar, and to see if they were “as good as some we bought,” and for a dozen other reasons. Snaps and Wyatt inwardly chafed, but they felt ashamed to complain of their friends for taking a few berries. After an impatient while the noon-bell rang. There were some farewell peckings at the baskets, and then the flock of blackbirds flew away, and left the two speculators to survey the ground. They walked along the side of their plank, each mentally taking stock. There was not a full basket left. Not one had escaped depredations—some were nearly empty. “They’re thieves and said. Snaps, indignantly. “ I wish I’d called a policeman.” “Snaps,” Wyatt said, “we’re busted. No use, dodging; we’re busted. There ain’t more’n seven baskets left. What’re we going to do about it ?” “ Let’s sell out,” Snaps flashed brightly- “ Sell out to who?” Wyatt asked, in a tone of infinite contempt. “ Let’s eat ’em,” said Snaps. “ That would bust us sure,” Wyatt replied, attempting a joke. “ It’s ’most dinner-time at our house,” Snaps said, in a discouraged tone. “ And it’s ’most dinner-time at our house,” Wyatt added, impatiently; “but I ain’t goin’ to whine about it.” He felt sore about his speculation, and he was glad of a chance to scold atf somebodv. “ The last of our money’s in them her ries.” Snaps looked mournfully at the baskets. Wyatt answered shortly: “Well, can’t we earn some more?” “ I don’t think we got much good out of our money.” Snaps felt very melancholy. Then both boys fell to thinking how the monev had gone. “We ain’t got anything to show for it but them two empty cologne-bottles and that old razor that we daren’t let anybody see,” said Snaps. “ We’ve had lots of fun, though.” “ And lots of other folks have had fun out of it, too. And we’ve treated. Seems to me I’d rather treat than do anything else. Don’t it make you feel good to treat?” ——

“ Yesf I always feel like whistling when I treat,” Wyatt said. “ But I do wish I knew what to do with these miserable old strawberries.” He was getting hungry and wanted his dinner. “ Let’s treat with them,” Snaps brilliantly suggested. He, too, wanted his dirfner; he’d been hankering after it for an hour. “Who’ll we treat?” “ I’ll tell you; we’ll take ’em to Africa, and give ’em to the little darkies.” “ Say we do,” Wyatt assented. Africa was that part of the town where the colored people were congregated. The boys borrowed a pail of Mr. Noodle, in which they emptied all the berries. The baskets were stacked and taken to the grocery, according to the agreement with the farmer. After eating their dinners they proceeded together to Africa. Here they went from shanty to shanty, distributing the berries, and almost laughing themselves wild at the funny little negroes. As they suddenly turned a corner they collided with Bob Davidson. “ Laws a massy!” said Bob; “ I wus jis gwine to fotch it to you all. Here ’tis,” and he extended before the boys’ eyes a bottle with about a gill of some dark liquid in it. “ What is it?” said Wyatt. “ What in the world is it?” said Snaps. “ Mammy didn’thab nuffln else nicenufl to pay you all fer dem dar strawberries. Yer see, we all los’ all our prop’ty by dem rebul soldiers.” “But tell us what ’tis,” tyyatt said, turning the bottle over and examining it in every light. “Law! don’t you all know? It’s jis a few uv dem dar ’lasses,” said Bob, grinning and licking out his tongue. You ought to have seen those boys laugh! Snaps said, in telling of it afterward, that he really thought at one time that he was splitting. The boys gave the bottle back to Bob, and delivered also to him the remainder of the berries; and with this went the last of their money. —Sarah Winter Kellogg, in St. Nicholas.