We were seldom permitted to play with any boys except our brothers.I drew the inference that our boys must be a great deal better than "the other boys."My brother John had some fine play-fellows,but he seemed to consider me in the way when they were his guests.Occasionally we would forget that the neighbor-boys were not girls,and would find ourselves all playing together in delightful unconsciousness;although possibly a thought,like that of the "Ettrick Shepherd,"may now and then have flitted through the mind of some masculine juvenile:--"Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play,Or love to banter and fight so well,--That Is the thing I never could tell."One,day I thoughtlessly accepted an invitation to get through a gap in the garden-fence,to where the doctor's two boys were preparing to take an imaginary sleigh-ride in midsummer.The sleigh was stranded among tall weeds an cornstalks,but I was politely handed in by the elder boy,who sat down by my side and tucked his little brother in front at our feet,informing me that we were father and mother and little son,going to take a ride to Newburyport.He had found an old pair of reins and tied them to a saw-horse,that he switched and "Gee-up"-ed vigorously.The journey was as brief as delightful.I ran home feeling like the heroine of an elopement,asking myself meanwhile,"What would my brother John say if he knew I had been playing with boys?"He was very particular about his sisters'behavior.But I incautiously said to one sister in whom I did not usually confide,that Ithought James was the nicest boy in the lane,and that I liked his little brother Charles,too.She laughed at me so unmercifully for making the remark,that I never dared look towards the gap in the fence again,beyond which I could hear the boys'voices around the old sleigh where they were playing,entirely forgetful of their former traveling companion.Still,Icontinued to think that my courteous cavalier,James,was the nicest boy in the lane.
My brother's vigilant care of his two youngest sisters was once the occasion to them of a serious fright.My grandfather--the sexton--sometimes trusted him to toll the bell for a funeral.In those days the bell was tolled for everybody who died.John was social,and did not like to go up into the belfry and stay an hour or so alone,and as my grandfather positively forbade him to take any other boy up there,he one day got permission for us two little girls to go with him,for company.We had to climb up a great many stairs,and the last flight was inclosed by a rough door with a lock inside,which he was charged to fasten,so that no mischievous boys should follow.
It was strange to be standing up there in the air,gazing over the balcony-railing down into the street,where the men and women looked so small,and across to the water and the ships in the east,and the clouds and hills in the west!But when he struck the tongue against the great bell,close to our ears,it was more than we were prepared for.The little sister,scarcely three years old,screamed and shrieked,--"I shall be stunned-ded!I shall be stunned-ded!"I do not know where she had picked up that final syllable,but it made her terror much more emphatic.Still the great waves of solem sound went eddying on,over the hills and over the sea,and we had to hear it all,though we stopped our ears with our fingers.
It was an immense relief to us when the last stroke of the passing-bell was struck,and John said we could go down.
He took the key from his pocket and was fitting it into the lock,when it slipped,beyond our reach.Now the little sister cried again,and would not be pacified;and when I looked up and caught John's blank,dismayed look,I began to feel like crying,too.
The question went swiftly through my mind,--How many days can we stay up here without starving to death?--for I really thought we should never get down out of our prison in the air:never see our mother's face again.
But my brother's wits returned to him.He led us back to the balcony,and shouted over the railing to a boy in the street,making him understand that he must go and inform my father that we were locked into the belfry.It was not long before we saw both him and my grandfather on their way to the church.They came up to the little door,and told us to push with our united strength against it.The rusty lock soon yielded,and how good it was to look into those two beloved human faces once more!But we little girls were not invited to join my brother again when he tolled the bell:if we had been,I think we should have promptly declined the invitation.
Many of my childish misadventures came to me in connection with my little sister,who,having been much indulged,too it for granted that she could always have what she wanted.
