Read Ebook: Pop-Guns: One Serious and One Funny by Fanny Aunt

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 403 lines and 26492 words, and 9 pages

If you will promise never to tell, I will mention that the new children lived in Twenty-third street, in the very middle of a long row of brown-stone houses. It was not a very long walk, and soon Aunt Fanny had pulled the bell, which was one of those funny spring bells which give one loud "tching," as if they had jumped out of their skins with a jerk and a scream; and jumped in again with another, the next time anybody pulled them. As the door was opened, she saw a bright little face peeping from the dining-room, and the very next instant she heard the joyous exclamation, "If it isn't Aunt Fanny!"--and then came a rushing, and a tumbling, and a racing, and a laughing! and all the six children fell lovingly upon her, and knocked down--not Aunt Fanny, not a bit of it, or of her, but two hats, three umbrellas, a great-coat, a whisk-broom, and a paper parcel marked "From A. T. Stewart,"--all of which had been peacefully hanging or resting upon the hat-stand; and when papa and mamma came out to see who was creating such a riot, there was Aunt Fanny with the whisk-broom perched like a flower on top of her bonnet, Peter and Fred rushing after the hats which had rolled off in different corners; all the rest of the articles scattered on the floor; Bob and the three little girls jumping straight up and down, kissing Aunt Fanny, and begging pardon for upsetting so many things over her; while the waiter and Aunt Fanny's husband were standing near, laughing as hard as ever they could at the fun.

They got into the parlor at last, and sat down--the children with their bright eyes fastened upon their welcome guest, who, trying to look grave, asked, the very first thing, if the children had had any dinner that day.

"Why yes, plenty, Aunt Fanny; dessert too--flower-pot pudding."

Aunt Fanny laughed, and said--

"When you came at me so furiously, I thought you might have been living on a slice or two of buttered paper and a teacup or so of sunbeams to-day, and meant to eat me up for supper."

"Oh, Aunt Fanny! we love you dearly, but we wouldn't eat you up for all the world."

"But what's that sticking out of your pocket?" asked Sophie, spying the end of the roll of manuscript, for the first time.

"A Pop-gun. Bang!" she answered, pulling it out and pointing it at them. "Come, sit down, for I have brought it on purpose to read to you."

With a great many "hushes," and flourishes, and skirmishes, to get the seats on either side of her, Aunt Fanny unrolled her story, and began as follows:

HOW PHILIP BADBOY BECAME PHILIP WISEMAN.

Once upon a time not so very long ago, there lived a stupid, heavy looking boy, named Philip, who bore any thing but an agreeable character; for he was naughty, lazy, greedy, and impudent. His companions all hated him, for when he appeared among them after school hours, he was sure to kick their marbles into the middle of the street, knock the little boys' caps over their eyes, twitch balls and kites out of their hands, and set them all fighting and quarrelling.

His whole name was Philip Wiseman, but his companions changed it to Philip Badboy.

His parents tried long and faithfully to improve their wayward child; but nothing altered him for the better--indeed, whippings, and locking him up, only seemed to make him worse.

At last, quite wearied out, his father put him at a celebrated boarding-school in Sing Sing; but they might better perhaps have put him in the famous prison at the same place, for not a single button did Philip care for lessons or punishment.

At this same school was a bright little fellow, as full of good-nature, fun, and mischief as he could hold. He did not always know his lessons, and there really seemed no end to the monkey tricks he was constantly playing upon his school-fellows; but somehow, when he said he was sorry for his idleness, and his capers, in his coaxing voice, and trying to keep back two dimples that would come in his cheeks, neither teachers nor comrades could help forgiving him immediately. Everybody loved little Kriss Luff.

He even tried to make friends with Philip; and one bright summer morning resolved to get him up in time for prayers. When the first bell rang, Kriss went to the sleeping boy's bed, and shaking him well, shouted out: "Come, Lazybones, it's time for you to be learning your A, B, C; Get up! get up!"

Philip only snored louder, and gave a kick with one of his legs, whereupon the little fellow, with a tremendous push, tilted him suddenly out on the floor, and then had to run for his life, or he would have got a good thrashing from the angry boy.

Thanks to the upset, Philip was down this morning in time for prayers; but went sound asleep again while on his knees, and his neighbors had to poke and pinch him well, to get him upon his feet, when the morning service was ended.

But you may be certain he managed to keep awake at the breakfast table, where he made up for having a head as empty as a drum, by filling his stomach till he could scarcely breathe. He never stopped for salt or pepper; he did not waste his time talking; and was always the very last one at the table, getting up with his cheeks sticking out like a balloon, from thrusting into his mouth every thing he could catch in a hurry.

Philip's father thought long and seriously over this letter--then he took a journey; and on his return he brought with him a farmer, and an intelligent-looking country lad.

The boy's name was John Goodfellow, and he looked as good as his name--for his clear blue eyes sparkled with good-nature; his cheeks shone with good health; and his voice had a tone of good-breeding, notwithstanding his plain country dress and manners. I have no doubt his mother was a good woman, his father a good man, and we know the name of all three was Goodfellow--and so much goodness in a bunch, makes me write about it with extra goodwill.

A day or two after the return of Philip's father, a great clumsy farm wagon came lumbering up the avenue of Dr. Gradus's seminary; driving it, was a rough-looking man, and beside him sat a bright-faced boy,--the same man and boy who made their appearance, when Philip's father returned from his journey.

The man got down and rang a tremendous peal upon the bell. The servant thought the President of the United States had arrived, and flew to answer it.

"Does Dr. Great Dust live here?" asked the man.

"How dare you come and tear the house down at this rate?" cried the angry servant, seeing that it was not "grand company." "What do you want, you old bear?"

The old bear, being good-natured, burst out laughing. "Don't spoil your pretty face," he said, "by getting it into a twist. When I give a pull, I always give a strong one; and you must a been greasing of your bell, for it came out like a shot. Hum! Now s'pose you tell me if Dr. Great Dust lives here. I should think he did, by the one you've kicked up about nothing."

"Well, he does, and what of it?"

"Only I want to see him, and here's a letter," holding it out.

The woman took the letter and showed the farmer and his boy into a small room, while she went up-stairs to the doctor's study.

There he sat, to be sure, a grave, learned man, with spectacles perched on his nose, a great frown in his forehead, rather dirty wristbands, a pen behind his ear, and ever so many papers before him, written as full as they could hold of Latin and Greek themes, which the larger boys in the school had sent in for examination. Of course there was no end of mistakes in most of them; and as to Philip's copy, it was just one hodge-podge of farrago and nonsense.

"Oh, that hopeless booby of a boy!" the doctor was exclaiming to himself, as he took up this last paper, when there came a knock at the door.

With the permission to enter, the servant approached, handed the letter, and said that there were two bumpkins down stairs waiting for the answer.

"Show them up," said the doctor.

Then he opened his letter, took out an envelope, read the first, stared, read again, rang the bell, and sent for Philip, first giving the servant an order in a low voice.

In the mean time the rough-looking farmer and the boy, neither of whom deserved to be called bumpkins, came in, and, having bowed as well as they knew how, sat down in a corner.

It was during recess in school hours that all this happened, and our idle friend, Master Philip, was fast asleep in the school-room. The rind of an orange, the cores of several apples, a grammar turned upside down, and some very sticky paper that had held candy, lay on the desk. In the midst of them was Philip's head. His face was very sticky too, and glued fast to the extreme end of his nose was a paper pellet with which Kriss Luff had carefully ornamented it, to the tittering delight of half a dozen of his comrades. This and his sticky face had made it the duty of every fly in the room to invite each other to the spot to a mass meeting on business, to which was added a grand feast, and gymnastic exercises; so there they all were, as lively as you please--standing on their heads, hanging by one leg, whisking, and frisking, and eating, and buzzing, and grumbling, and fighting over the spoils, like hungry hawks or aldermen.

"Wake up, Master Philip!" cried the servant, giving him a push. "You're wanted in the doctor's study, and his face is as long as my arm. I guess he has got bad news for you. What's that on the end of your nose?"

"Bad news," repeated Philip, tearing off the paper pellet. "Was it worth while disturbing my nap for that? Go to Guinea!"

"But you must come--"

"Go to Guinea with your bad news!"

"Well, I will tell the doctor what you say."

This threat started Philip, and grumbling to himself he hurried into the study.

When he entered he saw a boy of his own age, who was now standing up studying with great interest a large map of the United States which hung against the wall, a plain, good-natured looking man, and the doctor, who was handing him a letter.

"Philip," said the doctor, with a very solemn face, "I am sorry to tell you that my letter from your father informs me that you must leave school immediately: not to go home," he added, for he saw the boy's face brightening. "Your father and mother have just left the country on important business; where they have gone is to be kept a secret; and now, as you are determined not to learn--as you have made up your mind to grow up an ignorant, useless creature--your father has bound you apprentice to this worthy farmer, whose son takes your place here. If the good man is pleased with you, he is to give you a small weekly allowance; but I warn you beforehand, he will put up with none of your lazy habits; and if he finds that you will not obey him, why then"--here the doctor lowered his voice--"he has in his stable a horse-whip, which will wake you up better than my ferule."

Philip stood perfectly petrified at this sudden and most dreadful disclosure. His knees shook--he dropped his letter--his teeth chattered; and when the farmer, at a sign from the doctor, approached him with, "Come, my little man, go and get ready; my time is money to me," poor Philip sprawled down on his knees, crying--

"No! no! I don't want to go! Oh, Dr. Gradus, pray let me stay here! I will study! I will; indeed I will! I will sit up all night and construe my Latin, and work out those awful logarithms which nearly crack my head to understand. I'll never say again I can't bear the sight of figures. Oh, I shall go distracted! Oh! oh! oh!"

"Come, sir, this won't answer; neither I nor my horses can stand here doing nothing. Make your bow to the master, and come along."

Philip struggled, and kicked, and tumbled about, looking as if he was all legs and arms--not a very graceful figure, you may believe; and he cried and screamed, "Let me go-o-o! let me go-o-o!" as the farmer dragged him all the way down stairs, and out of the house. Yes, he screamed louder than ever out of the house, in hopes of attracting some attention from his school-fellows to his sad fate; but not a single boy ran to see who was making such a dismal howling; they were all now in class.

When he was safely stowed away in the wagon, amidst the empty corn-sacks, the servant brought out his trunk of clothes which the doctor had ordered her to pack, and the letter which the now sobbing boy had dropped in the study; then she went back for a moment and returned with some school-books fastened together by a leather strap; and seeing how much Philip appeared to be suffering, she forgot how many times he had thrown her dust-cloth out of the window, and sent her broom and dust-pan flying after it; her heart melted, and she said kindly--

"Never mind, Master Philip; if you doesn't behave, you must expect to be punished; but it'll do you good, like physic. Just you try to be a first-rate boy, and you'll be back here in a good deal less than no time."

The wretched boy choked down his sobs, and crept into a corner among the corn-bags, where he hid himself, wiping away the big tears that fell silently. Soon the slow motion of the wagon soothed him. He lay for a while drowsily watching the trees and the wild roses growing on the fences, that sent their faint sweet perfume in to him with a gentle wave of their pretty heads; and presently, as the horses turned into a road which lay through a cool, quiet wood, the myriad leaves of which made a deep shade, our young friend gave a final sigh, and, opening his mouth and shutting his eyes, forgot all his troubles, and snored tunefully to the end of the journey.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet