Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 August 1876 — Our Young Readers. [ARTICLE]

Our Young Readers.

f SAM'S FOUR BITS. Doubtless of you enjoyed Christmas, but I question whether there was another boy in the United States who was as happy as Sam on the 25th of last December. Sam ia seven years old, and as bright a little darkey as ever “toted” a bucket of water on his head, or whisked a fly-brush over a dinner-table. His mother cooks for “ Malis’r George,” and Sam, consequently is always to be found about the - ‘-big ■house," 1 On Christmas eve, Bam hung up his stocking by the dining-room cnimney, looked up the flue to see “ if dar was anyt’ing in dar to stop Santa Claus from cornin’ down,” then trotted away to the kitchen garret to bed. Whether he dreamed of Santa Claus, and, if so, how his imaginasion pictured the little Dutch saint, it is impossible to say; hut one thing is certain, he got up unusually early the next morning. The day had scarcely begun to break when Sam’s father, Uncle Henry, and old Aunt Phillis, his mother, were aroused by a shout of “Chris’mus gif’, pappy! Cnris’mus gif’, mammy! Chris’mus gif’! I done cotch you bore 1” Then Sam hurried on his clothes, and hastened over to the house to examine his stocking. There it was, just as he had left It, except that it was full instead of empty. Full of what ? “What a big awingc! What’s dis? ’nudder awinge, I ’spec’—no, dis yer’s an an apple. Whoo! jes’ look at the candy! What else in dar?” Sam thought that was all; hut he took the stocking by .the toe and shook it, and out dropped a silver coin. “Money! Wonder how much dis is? ’Bout ’lehenteen dollars, may be—l’s gwine to ax mammy.” So Sam ran to show his father and mother what Santa Claus had brought him. “ Fo’ bits in silber!” said Aunt Phillis. “ Bress my soul! I ain’t seed no silber befo’ since war times! Gimme dat money, Sam, an’ let me put it away in the big chist.” Now, this didn’t suit Sam at all. He had seen a great many things go into “ de big chist” that never came out again, and he was by no means disposed to let his shining “ four-bit piece” meet with such a destiny. “No, mammy,” said he; “ please jus’ let me keep it. I ain’t gwine to lose it. ’Sides, dat chist sets right up by de chimley; an’ oP Santy might come down an’ open it, an’ take his money out ag’in.” “ Let de chile hab de money, Phillis,” said Uncle Henry; “ es he loses it, ’taint much, an’ it’ll learn him to be keerful. Let him keep it.” So Sam kept his money. Baron Rothschild never felt as rich as he did. He would sit about in corners, talking to himself and looking at his “four bits.” If he went across the yard he would stop every few steps to feel in his pocket, and see if it was still there. Indeed, never before did fifty cents seem so important to anyone. Sam enjoyed his “ awinge,” his appie, his “puckawns," and his candy; but the charms of all these —and they had many —paled before the brightness of the silver. He w r as never tired of examining it. He wondered whether tlie bird on one side was a hawk, or a buzzard, or a turkey. He tried to count the notches on the rim*, but, as he didn’t know what came after five, he was obliged to give up the attempt in despair. Time now hung heavy on Sam’s hands. Be began to think, or “ study,” as he would have expressed it, about what to do next. What he did next was to lay his “ four hits” down on the ground near the steps, and then walk off around the corner of the house. Directly he came back, walking slowly, and looking about as if he had lost something. He kicked among the grass with his feet, shaded his eyes with his hand, and appeared to be very anxious “Lemine see,” said he, “ I come ’long dis way yestiddy, an’ I reckon I los’ dat money somewhar ’bout dis place. I mus’ done dropped it out my pocket. Wonder if anybody picked it up. Lawsy! I done found it. Right under my eyes! Es it bad been a snake it would ha’ bit me. I nebber seed de like sence ol’ Hecky was a pup!” So saving, he picked up the money with great demonstrations of joy. Then he laid it down in another place, and marched off as before.

This time, however, the play turned out differently. There was a venerable Shanghai rooster that stayed in the yard that everybody called, “ Old Jack.” He was very old and very cross, and he and Sam were deadly enemies. Many a fight had they had, and, although Sam generally got the best of it, Old Jack used to give him a great deal of trouble. Now, just as Sam went around one corner of the house, Old Jack stalked around the other, closely examining the ground, in quest of a beetle or a worm, or some other agreeable delicacy of that sort. The bright piece of silver attracted his eye, ana he advanced toward it. He had not vet determined whether or not it was good- to eat, and was about to begin a closer examination, when back came tbe owner. At sight of his foe, Old Jack seized the coin and ran, intending to carry it off and inspect it at his leisure. Sam set up a tremendous yell, and gave chaser. Old Jack ran first in one direction and then in another; but finding himself closely pursued, he took refuge beneath the smoke-house. This building, like nearly all houses at the South, was raised from the ground on small pillars about a foot high, and Old Jack had gone under it, with Sam’s money. He dropped it on the ground and crowed loudly, “ adding insuit to injury.” Sam had begun to cry, but that triumphant crow changed the current of his thoughts. He resolved upon measures of war.

“ I’s gwine to git dat money, somehow,” said he; “I’sies’ got to habit, shore, and dare’s no use talkin’ ’bout it. 01’ Jack’s got to git out from under dar; ybu heered me! I aint a-foolin’ now.” So Sam got down on the ground and began crawling under the smoke-house. Whether Old Jack dreaded a combat in shch close quarters, or whether lie had fully satisfied himself that the half-dollar was too hard to be digestible, or whether he was influenced by both considerations, is unknown; but when he saw Bam, he rushed out from his retreat, leaving the silver piece behind him. But Sam was too quick for him. He grasped Old Jack by the leg, and scooped up his coin with the other hand. r “ Dar! dat’s business. Dis ol’ rooster ’zarves to hab his neck broke. I’ll fix him ’fore long,” said Sam, as he ran toward the house with Old Jack in his hands. But suddenly changing his mind, he dropped the rooster and pulled hia halfdollar from his pocket. The money had got rather dirty under the house. So had Sam; but then he was dirty already, 90- it did n’t make any difference. The “ four bits,” however, uiust be cleaned right away, thought Sam; so

he went off to the kitchen to wash it. Before he got there, however, he stopped and seemed to consider. A splendid idea had occurred to him. ‘He had seen bis mother use an egg to clarify the coffee every morning, and the thought came up to him, if an egg would clear coffee of those black, muddy grounds, would it not lie just the thing to brighten up lus“ four bits?” It was worth trying, anyway, he thought. “ Dar’s dat little Dominica hen a-cack-lin’ now,” said Bam, “ she’s jes’ done laid. Wonder if I kin git the egg out de nes‘ ’doqt mammy secin’ me?" He eeped into the kitchen. There was Aunt Phillis, fast asleep in front of the Hre. Tbeirbe went and got the egg.—He carried it around hack of the house and sat down, and, having broken in one end of the shell, he poured the contents over his piece of money. “ I’ll let it stay on dnr a little while,” thought he, “ so’s to let it git right clean.” In the meantime he went into tlie kitchen and got a gourdful of water out of the “ piggin,” which he carried out with him. Thinking that it was now fully time, he Sroceeded to wash the egg off. What was is horror and amazement to find that his precious “four bits” had turned black! Bam looked at it wofully. He tried to wash the stain off, but he couldn’t. What was to be done? He was afraid to ask his mammy, because she would certainly whip him. He concluded to go to Mahs’r George. That gentleman wus enjoying a pipe and a newspaper, when Sain rushed in ciying: “Oh, Mahs’r George, MAhs’r George, my silber done turned nato one ol’ piece ob iron, sah!” “Why, how’s this, Sam ?” said Mahs’r George, looking at the coin, “what have you been doing to it?” “I ain’t done nuffln’ to it, sah,” replied Sam, “only jes’ put some egg on it to clean off the dirt, sah, and now it’s done got as black as I is!” “Put egg on it?” “Yes, sah. I seed mammy clarin’ de trash out ob the coffee wid egg.” Sam considered the loud laughter which followed as a deep personal insult; but he forgave Master George, for he cleaned his “four bits” for him. When he received it it was wet and Sam ran out to the kitchen to dry it. He laid it on a chip close to the fire, and sat down to watch it, singing to himself, not loud enough to disturb his mammy: “Jes’ look, said Sam, when he had finished his song, “ dar’s dat nice little fo’ bits a layn’in front o’ de fire a-winkin' at de ashes, jes’ as happy as a terrapin when you pours col’ water ober him. Wonder if it knows it’s Chris’mus? Chris’mus is de bes’ time dey is. Dev ought to hab it wunst a week, instid ob Sunday. What’s de reason water-millions is neber ripe Chris’mus ? Hey! de chip’s on fire!” Sam seized his money; it was hot, and old Aunt Phillis, who had been enjoying a heavenly vision of a fat ’possum, baked with sweet potatoes, awoke with a great start at her son’s cry of anguish. “ You, Sam! what you doin’, sah?” “Oh, ma-a-ammy! Dat nasty forfeits!” “ Wliat’s de matter wid it ?” asked Aunt Phillis, and she stooped and picked it up. Then there was another howl of wrath and agony—a slap—an explanation. To relate what immediately followed would be too painful. We will only say that after a few minutes the wretched infant issued hastily from the door, with tears in his eyes, and his “ four bits ” (which had now got cool) in his hand. “Impossible!” do you say 7 “Pishes breathe water and cannot live in air.” Melancholy could not last long with Sam. “The fountain of his tears,'’ was like one of those springs that never run except immediately after a rain; so, within a few minutes, ne forgot liis troubles. There was a well in the yard which was one of Sam’s favorite places of resort. The low wooden box that covered it made an excellent seat, and it was delightfully exciting to drop a “rock” down into the water, and hear the splash it made. Sam liked the place, and he went there with his half-dollar and set down. He laid the silver down bv his side, and regarded it with all the airs of a capitalist.

“I ain’t made up my mind yit,” said Sam, “what I’s gwine to get wid dis money. Let’s see. Shall I buy a mule like pappy’s? Idunno. I wants some sardines, an’ a shot-gun, an’ free or fo’ hogs, an’ a Spanish harp, an’ sebberal odder t’ings. May be fo’ bits wont git ’em all. How much is fo’ bits? I knows what curb-bits an’ snaffle-bits fur hosses is, but I nebber heered ’bout fo' bits. Well, lemme see. Nex’ time papy goes to town wid the wagon, I’se gwine to ax him kiq I go ’long; den I kin look in all de stores an’ see what I wants. Dar! I knows! Mahs’r George he pays me for pickin’ blackberries, —I’ll git a bucket. Las’ time lie paid me in candy; I’ll ax him to pay me money nex’ time, and den I’ll get a whole heap of fo’ bitses, an’ buy more buckets, an’ git dem darkeys in de quarters to pick for me, and pay ’em half what dey makes, an’ den ” Here the youthful Alnaschar jerked up his'foot in ecstasy, and it struck the halfdollar. The soliloquy came to an abrupt end, for* the “four bits” Jiad gone down the well! A broad crack in one of the boards, just where it oughtn’t to have been, had received the unlucky coin, and Bam heard it when it struck the water below. Here was a death-blow to the bucket and blackberry scheme of fortune! Bam would have turned pale, if he could. “ Well, now, ain't dat de mischief?” said he, looking over into the well. There was no use In looking, however, the money was gone “ for good.” So Sam straightened himself up, drew a Jong breath, and went off to find Old Jack, saying to himscl ft “ I don’t keer. What’s de diff’rence? De ol’ fo’ bits was more trouble dan it was wuss, nohow!” — Irwin Bussell, in St. Nicholas for August.

Some idea of the extent to which base ball is played in this country may be obtained from the fact that a single firm in New York has sold this year 65,000 bats, 180,000 balls, 3,500 pairs of ball shoes, 3,080 pairs of colored hose, 5,000 caps and 500 complete uniforms.