A Little Girl in Old New York

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XVI

  DAISY JASPER

  What to do with Ben was the next question of importance. He was fond ofbooks, an omnivorous reader, in fact, a very fair scholar, and, with acertain amount of push, could have graduated the year before. He reallywas not longing for college.

  There was only one line of horse-cars, and that conveyed the passengersof the Harlem Railroad from the station on Broome Street to thesteam-cars up-town. Only a few trains beside the baggage and freight carswere allowed through the city. Consequently a boy's ambition had notbeen roused to the height of being a "car conductor" at that period. Agood number counted on "running wid de machine" when they reached theproper age, but boys were not allowed to hang around the engine-houses.Running with the machine was something in those days. There were nosteam-engines. Everything was drawn by a long rope, the men ranged oneither side. The force of the stream of water was also propelled by mainstrength, and the "high throwing" was something to be proud of. Therewas a good deal of rivalry among the companies to see who could get to afire the first. Sometimes, indeed, it led to quite serious affrays iftwo parties met at a crossing. "Big Six" never gave up for any one."Forty-one" was another famous engine on the East side. Indeed they hada rather menacing song they sometimes shouted out to their rivals, whichcontained these two blood-curdling lines:

  "From his heart the blood shall run By the balls of Forty-one."

  Later on the fights and disturbances became so bitter that the policehad to interfere, and as the city grew larger some new method ofexpediting matters had to be considered. But the "fire laddies" were abrave, generous set of men, who turned out any time of day or night anddragged their heavy engines over the rough cobble-stones with a spiritand enthusiasm hard to match. They received no pay, but were exempt fromjury duty, and after a number of years of service had certain privilegesgranted them. Jim counted strongly on being a fireman. John hadsometimes gone to fires but was not a "regular."

  But all differences were forgotten in the "great fire," as it was calledfor a long time. There had been one about ten years before that haddevastated a large part of the city. And in February of this year therehad been quite a tragic one in the Tribune Building. There was a fiercedrifting snowstorm, so deep it was impossible to drag the enginesthrough it, and some of the hydrants were frozen. Men had jumped fromthe windows to save their lives, and there had been quite a panic.

  Early in the gray dawn of July nineteenth, a watchman discovered flamesissuing from an oil store on New Street. A carpenter shop next door wassoon in flames. A large building in which quantities of saltpetre wasstored caught next. A dense smoke filled the air, and a sudden explosivesound shot out a long tongue of flame that crossed the street. Atintervals of a few moments others followed, causing everybody to fly fortheir lives. And at last one grand deafening burst like a tremendousclap of thunder, and the whole vicinity was in a blaze. Bricks andpieces of timber flew through the air, injuring many people. Then thefire spread far and wide, one vast, roaring, crackling sheet of flame.One brave fireman and several other people were killed, and Engine 22was wrecked in the explosion.

  It was said at first that powder had been stored in the building, but itwas proved on investigation that the saltpetre alone was the dangerousagent. Three hundred and forty-five buildings were destroyed, at a loss,it was estimated, of ten millions of dollars. For days there was animmense throng about the place. The ruins extended from Bowling Green toExchange Place.

  A relic of Revolutionary times perished in this fire. The bell of thefamous Provost prison, that had been used by the British during theiroccupancy of the city, had been removed when the building was remodelledand placed on the Bridewell at the west of the City Hall, and used for afire-alarm bell. When the Bridewell had been destroyed it wastransferred to the cupola of the Naiad Hose Company in Beaver Street. Itrang out its last alarm that morning, for engine house and bell perishedin the flames.

  Stephen had been very fortunate in that he was out of the fire district.He took Margaret and Hanny down to view the great space heaped withblackened debris, and when a fire alarm was given the little girl usedto shiver with fright for months afterward.

  And now schools were considering their closing exercises, and parents ofbig boys were puzzled to know just where to start them in life. Bendeclared his preference at last--he wanted to be some sort of anewspaper man.

  They called Mr. Whitney in to council. He was not quite sure he wouldrecommend beginning there. It would be better to learn the tradethoroughly at such a place as the Harpers'. Then there would always besomething to fall back upon. Steve did not cordially approve, and Dr.Joe was quite disappointed. He was ready to help Ben through college.

  Newspaper people did not rank as high then as now. There was a good dealof what came to be called Bohemianism among them, and it was not of theartistic type. For the one really good position there were a dozenprecarious ones.

  Aunt Nancy Archer rather amused them with another objection. She wasn'tat all sure the publishing of so many novels was conducive to theadvancement of morals and religion. She never could quite understand howso good a man as Brother Harper could lend it countenance. When she wasyoung the girls of her time were reading Hannah More. And there was Mrs.Chapone's letters, and now Charlotte Elizabeth and Mrs. Sigourney.

  "Did you know Hannah More wrote a novel?" inquired John, with a halfsmile of his father's humor. "And Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Edgeworth andCharlotte Elizabeth's stories are in the novel form."

  "But they have a high moral. And there are so many histories for youngpeople to read. They ought to have the real truth instead of sillymake-believes and trashy love stories."

  "There are some histories that would be rather terrible reading foryoung minds," said John. "I think I'll bring you two or three, AuntNancy."

  "But histories are _true_."

  "There are a great many sad and bitter truths in the world. And thestories must have a certain amount of truth in them or they would nevergain a hearing. Do we not find some of the most beautiful stories in theBible itself?"

  "Well, I can't help thinking all this novel reading is going to do harmto our young people. Their minds will get flighty, and they will loseall taste and desire for solid things. They are beginning to despisework already."

  "Aunt Nancy," said Ben, with a deprecating smile, "the smartest girl Iknow lives just below here. She does most all the housekeeping, she canwash and iron and sweep and sew, and she reads novels by the score. Shejust races through them. I do believe she knows as much about Europe asany of our teachers. And I never dreamed there had been such tremendousconquests in Asia, and such wonderful things in Egypt until I heard hertalk about them; and she knows about the great men and generals andrulers who lived before the Christian era, and at the time Christ wasborn----"

  Aunt Nancy gasped.

  "Of course there were Old Testament times," she returned hesitatingly.

  "And I am not sure but Mayor Harper is doing a good work indisseminating knowledge of all kinds. I believe we are to try all thingsand hold fast to that which is good," said John.

  He brought Aunt Nancy the history of Peter the Great and the famousCatharine of Russia, but she admitted that they were too cruel and tooterrible for any one to take pleasure in.

  Mrs. Underhill and Margaret went to the closing exercises of HoustonStreet school. Jim as usual had a splendid oration, one of PatrickHenry's. Ben acquitted himself finely. There was a large class of boyswho had finished their course, and the principal made them an admirableaddress, in which there was much good counsel and not a little judiciouspraise as well as beneficial advice concerning their future.

  But at Mrs. Craven's there was something more than the ordinaryexercises. The front parlor was turned into an audience-room, and aplatform was raised a little in the back parlor almost like a stage.There was a dialogue that was a little play in itself, and displayed theknowledge as well as the training of the pupils. Some compositions wereread, and part of a
little operetta was sung quite charmingly by thegirls. Then there was a large table spread out with specimens ofneedlework that were really fine; drawing, painting, and penmanship thatelicited much praise from the visitors.

  The crowning pleasure was the little party given in the evening, towhich any one was at liberty to invite a brother or cousin, or indeed aneighbor of whom their mother approved. And strange to relate, therewere a good many boys who were really pleased to be asked to the "girls'party." Charles Reed came and had a delightful time. Josie had waylaidMr. Reed again and told him all about it, and hoped he would let Charlescome, and he said he would be very happy to. Mrs. Reed did not approveof parties for children, and Charles had been but to very few.

  Mr. Underhill and Dr. Joe went down to the Harpers', having decided toplace Ben there to learn a trade. Thinking it all over, he resolved toacquiesce, though he told Hanny privately that some day he meant to havea newspaper of his own and be the head of everything. But he supposed hewould have to learn first.

  Margaret and Hanny went with them, and found many changes since theirfirst visit. The making of a book seemed a still more wonderful thing tothe child, but how one could ever be written puzzled her beyond all. Acomposition on something she had seen or read was within the scope ofher thought, but to tell about people and make them talk, and havepleasant and curious and sad and joyous happenings, did puzzle hergreatly.

  Ben was not to go until the first of September. So he would help Steve,go to the country for a visit, and have a good time generally before hebegan his life-work. Stephen's house was approaching completion, and itwas wonderful to see how the rows of buildings were stretching out, asif presently the city would be depleted of its residents. One wonderedwhere all the people came from.

  John Robert Charles had grown quite confidential with his father andbegan to think him as nice as Mr. Underhill--not as funny, for Mr.Underhill had a way of joking and telling amusing stories and teasing alittle, that was very entertaining, and never sharp or ill-natured.

  He had carried off the honors of his class and was proud of it. Mr. Reedshowed his satisfaction as well. Mrs. Reed was rather doubtful andsevere, and thought it her duty to keep Charles from undue vanity. Shewas in a fret because she had to go away and leave the house and waste awhole month.

  "I don't want to go," said Charles to his father. "It's awful lonesomeup there in the mountains, and there's no one to talk to. Aunt Rhoda'sdeaf, and Aunt Persis hushes you up if you say a word. And the oldgardener is stupid. There are no books to read, and I do get so tired."

  "Well, we'll see," replied his father.

  To his wife Mr. Reed said: "Why do you go off if you don't want to?"

  "I won't have Charles running the streets and getting into bad company,and wearing out his clothes faster than I can mend them," she repliedshortly.

  It would not be entertaining for Charles in his office, and he didn'tjust see what the boy could do. But he met a friend who kept a sort offancy toy store, musical instruments and some curios, down Broadway, andlearned that they were very much in want of a trusty, reliable lad whowas correct in figures and well-mannered. A woman came in the morning tosweep the store and sidewalk, to wash up the floor and windows, and dothe chores. So there was no rough work.

  "I'll send my boy down and see how you like him. I think he would fancythe place, and during the month you might find some one to take itpermanently. There seems to be no lack of boys."

  "You can't always find the right sort," said Mr. Gerard. "Yes, I shallbe glad to try him."

  Mr. Reed did not set forth the matter too attractively to his wife, noteven to Charles, who had learned to restrain his enthusiasm before hismother. And though she made numerous objections, and the thought of badcompany seemed to haunt her, she reluctantly decided to let him try itfor a week. He would go down in the morning with his father, so he couldnot possibly begin his day in mischief.

  Charles was delighted. The city was not over-crowded then. The Park gave"down-town" quite a breathing space.

  Now a boy would think it very hard not to have any vacation after elevenmonths of study. He would be so tired and worn and nervous that tenweeks would be none too much. The children then studied hard and playedhard and were eager to have a good time, and generally did have it. Andnow Charles was delighted with the newness of the affair. He walked upat night fresh and full of interest, and was quite a hero to the girlsover on Mrs. Dean's stoop.

  "I hope you will bring them down even if you shouldn't want to buyanything. Mr. Gerard said the stock was low now, as it is the dullestseason of the year. But there are such beautiful articles for gifts,china cups and saucers and dainty pitchers and vases, and sets likeyours, Josie, some ever so much smaller, and a silver knife and fork andspoon in a velvet case, and lovely little fruit-knives and nut-picks andever so many things I have never heard of. And musical instruments,flutes and flageolets and violins, and oh, the accordeons! There areGerman and French. Oh, I wish I _could_ own one. I know I could soonlearn to play on it!" declared Charles eagerly.

  In that far-back time an accordeon really was considered worth one'swhile. A piano was quite an extravagance. A good player could evoke realmusic out of it, and at that period it had not been handed over to thesaloons. In fact, saloons were not in fashion.

  The children listened enchanted. It was a great thing to know any one insuch a store. Mrs. Dean promised to take them all down.

  Hanny had a new source of interest. Dr. Joe had told her a very movingstory when he was up to tea on Sunday evening, about a little girl whohad been two months in the hospital and who had just come home for goodnow, who lived only a little way below them. It was Daisy Jasper, whomthey had seen a little while last summer in a wheeling chair, and whohad disappeared before any one's curiosity could be satisfied. She wasan only child, and her parents were very comfortably well off. WhenDaisy was about six years old, a fine, healthy, and beautiful littlegirl, she had trodden on a spool dropped by a careless hand and fallendown a long flight of stairs. Beside a broken arm and some bruises shedid not seem seriously injured. But after a while she began to complainof her back and her hip, and presently the sad knowledge dawned uponthem that their lovely child was likely to be a cripple. Variousexperiments were tried until she became so delicate her life appearedendangered. Mr. Jasper had been attracted to this pretty row of housesstanding back from the street with the flower gardens in front. Itseemed secluded yet not lonely. She grew so feeble, however, that thedoctors had recommended Sulphur Springs in Virginia, and thither theyhad taken her. When the cool weather came on they had gone farther southand spent the winter in Florida. She had improved and gained sufficientstrength, the doctors thought, to endure an operation. It had beenpainful and tedious, but she had borne it all so patiently. Dr. Mott andDr. Francis had done their best, but she would always be a littledeformed. The prospect was that some day she might walk without acrutch. Joe had seen a good deal of her, and at one visit he had toldher of his little sister who was just her age, as their birthdays werein May.

  Hanny had cried over the sorrowful tale. She thought of her early storyheroine, "Little Blind Lucy," whose sight had been so marvellouslyrestored. But Daisy could never be quite restored to straightness.

  After supper Joe had taken her down to call on Daisy. Oh, how pretty thegardens were, a beautiful spot of greenery and bloom, such a change fromthe pavements! A narrow brick walk ran up to the house, edged with rowsof dahlias just coming into bloom. On the other side there were circlesand triangles and diamond-shaped beds with borders of small flowers, oran entire bed of heliotrope or verbena. The very air was fragrant. Upnear the house was a kind of pavilion with a tent covering to shield onefrom the sun.

  Daisy, with her mother and aunt, were sitting out here when Dr. Joebrought his little sister. Daisy's chair was so arranged that the backcould be adjusted to any angle. It was of bamboo and cane with a softblanket thrown over it, a pretty rose color that lighted up the palelittle girl whose languor was still p
erceptible.

  After a little Mrs. Jasper took Dr. Joe into the house, as she wanted toquestion him. Then Hanny and Daisy grew more confidential. Daisy askedabout the children in the neighborhood and thought she would like to seeNora and Pussy Gray. She was very fond of cats, but theirs, a very goodmouser, was bad-tempered and wanted no petting. And then the Dean girlsand Flossy and Elsie Hay, and last but not least of all, Charles Reedwith his beautiful voice.

  "I do so dearly love music," said Daisy longingly. "Auntie plays but shedoesn't sing. Mamma knows a good many old-fashioned songs that arelovely. When I am tired and nervous she sings to me. I don't suppose Ican ever learn to play for myself," she ended sadly.

  Hanny told her she was learning and could play "Mary to the Saviour'sTomb" for her father. And there were the boys and Stephen and her lovelymarried sister Dolly and her own sister Margaret.

  "Oh, how happy you must be!" cried Daisy. "I should like such a lot ofpeople. I never had any brothers or sisters, and I _do_ get so lonesome.And the doctor is so pleasant and sweet; you must love him a greatdeal."

  "I can't tell which one is best. Steve teases and says funny things, andis--oh, just as nice as any one can be! And John is splendid, too. AndBen is going to learn to make books, and I can have all the books Iwant."

  Daisy sighed. She was very fond of reading, but it soon tired her.

  "I should so like to see you all. You know I've never been much withchildren. And I like live people. I want to hear them talk and sing andsee them play. One gets tired of dolls."

  "If you would like I will bring Nora and Pussy Gray. And I know Josie'smother will let them come. If you could be wheeled up on our sidewalk."

  "Oh, that would be delightful!" and the soft eyes glowed.

  Hanny had taken Nora the very next afternoon, and Pussy Gray had beenjust too good for anything. Daisy had to laugh at the conversationsbetween him and Nora. It really did sound as if he said actual words.And they told Daisy about the time they went to the Museum and had adouble share for their money. Daisy laughed heartily, and her palecheeks took on a pretty pink tint.

  "You are so good to come," said Mrs. Jasper. "My little girl has had somuch suffering in her short life that I want her to have all thepleasure possible now."

  Josie and Tudie Dean had been out spending the day, and really, therewas so much to tell that it was nine o'clock before it was alldiscussed. Charles was very much interested in Daisy Jasper.

  "You know I can tell just how she feels about not having any brothersand sisters," he exclaimed. "I've wished for them so many times. And I_do_ think Hanny is the luckiest of the lot; she has so many. It is likea little town to yourself."

  "I'm so glad it is vacation," declared Josie. "If we were going toschool we wouldn't have half time for anything."

  Mr. Underhill came for his little girl. While he was exchanging a fewwords with Mr. Dean Hanny caught one hand in both of hers and hoppedaround on one foot. She was so glad she could do it. Poor Daisy, withher beautiful name, who could never know the delight of exuberantspirits.

  Hanny's thoughts did not take in the long word, but that was what shefelt in every fibre of her being.

  Charles wondered how she dared. He was frightened when he caught hisfather's hand with an impulse of gratitude. But in pure fun!

  There was quite a stir with the little clique in the upper end of theblock. Mrs. Underhill, Mrs. Dean, and Margaret called on their neighbor,and the wheeled chair came up the street a day or two after. It had togo to the corner and cross on the flagging, as the jar would have beentoo great on cobble stones. They had a young colored lad now who keptthe garden in order, did chores, and waited upon "Missy" as he calledher.

  The sidewalk was generally sunny in the afternoon, but this day it wassoft and gray without being very cloudy. The chariot halted at theUnderhills'. The little girls brought their dolls to show Daisy, theirvery best ones, and Nora dressed up Pussy Gray in the long white babydress, and pussy was very obliging and lay in Daisy's arms just like areal baby. The child felt as if she wanted to kiss him.

  What a pretty group of gossips they were! If Kate Greenaway had beenmaking pictures then, she would have wanted them, though their attirewas not quite as quaint as hers. They went up and down the steps, theytold Daisy so many bright, entertaining things, and the fun they hadwith their plays. Josie's party was described, the closing exercises atschool, and the many incidents so important in child life. Sometimes twoor three talked together, or some one said, "It's my turn, now let me."They referred to Charles so much it really piqued Daisy's curiosity.

  "Jim calls him a 'girl-boy,' because he plays with us," said Hanny, "andin some ways I like girl-boys best. Ben is a sort of girl-boy. I'm goingto bring him over to see you. Jim's real splendid and none of the boysdare fight him any more," she added loyally.

  "And first, you know," began Tudie in a mysteriously confidentialmanner, "we thought it so queer and funny. His mother called him JohnRobert Charles. And she used to look out of the window and ask him if hehad his books and his handkerchief, and tell him to come straight homefrom school, and lots of things. Oh, we thought we wouldn't have herfor our mother, not for a world!"

  "How did he come by so many names?" Daisy smiled.

  "Well, grandfather and all," replied Tudie rather ambiguously. "Hisfather calls him Charles. It sounds quite grand, doesn't it? We allwanted to call him Robert. And Hanny's big sister sings such a lovelysong--"Robin Adair." I'd like to call him that."

  "I should so like to hear him sing. I'm so fond of singing," said Daisyplaintively.

  "Now if we were in the back yard we could all sing," rejoined Josie."But of course we couldn't in the street with everybody going by."

  "Oh, no!" Yet there was a wistful longing in Daisy's face, that wasbeginning to look very tired.

  There were not many people going through this street. Houston Street wasquite a thoroughfare. But the few who did pass looked at the merry groupof girls and at the pale invalid whose chair told the story, and gavethem all a tender, sympathetic thought.

  All except Lily Ludlow. She was rather curious about the girl in thechair and made an errand out to the Bowery. When Hanny saw who wascoming she turned around and talked very eagerly to Elsie Hay, andpretended not to know it. Lily had her President, and Jim admired her,that was enough.

  "You're very tired, Missy," Sam said presently.

  "Yes," replied Daisy. "I think I'll go home now. And will you all cometo see me to-morrow? Oh, it is so nice to know you all! And Pussy Grayis just angelic. Please bring him, too."

  They said good-by. For some moments the little girls looked at eachother with wordless sorrow in their eyes. I think there were tears aswell.