by Eugene Field
XIX
OTHER PEOPLE'S DOGS
When I discovered one morning that my young sunflowers and my tomatovines had been cut down during the night by some lawless depredator Iwas mightily incensed. I had not supposed that there was anybody somean as to commit such a wanton destruction. The value of the propertydestroyed was not large; I had paid but five cents apiece for thetwenty tomato vines, and the young sunflowers were a present from FaddaPierce. The intrinsic value of these things was so small as to cut nofigure in my mind, but having watched the graceful creatures wax largeand comely from mere sprouts it was quite natural that I should have astrong sentimental attachment for them. For the fruit of the tomatovine I care nothing, but I had with much satisfaction pictured theenjoyment which Alice and the children would derive from the luscioustomatoes which I flattered myself were to ripen upon our own vinesunder the genial August sun.
Moreover, I had already made up a list of the names of city friends towhom I intended to send handsome specimens of these first fruits of myexperiments in farming; the Reillys, the Lynches, the Chapins, theMaxwells, the Scotts, the Fayes, the Deweys, the Morrises, theMillards, the Larneds, the Fletchers, the Ways--these and otherfortunate cronies were to be made recipients of my bounty in case thefruit held out. I will say nothing of the pleasing future I depictedfor the sunflowers; the sunflower is a particular favorite of mine,presumably because it is one of the very few flowers I am capable ofidentifying.
My impulse, when beholding the tomato vines and sunflowers cut down inthe innocence of youth, was to determine not to pursue gardeningfurther. To this mood succeeded a fit of anger, and I was so outragedby the destruction I beheld that I would cheerfully have given any sumof money I could have borrowed of my neighbors for information leadingto the apprehension of the perpetrator of this brutal wrong.
As it was, I wrote out an offer of five dollars reward upon a sheet ofletter paper and nailed it with four large wire nails to a maple treein front of the place, where all passers-by could see and read it.Later in the day I went to tell Fadda Pierce of the trouble which hadbefallen me, and he consoled me with the assurance that the work ofdestruction had been wrought--not by a human being, as I had surmised,but by cutworms, a kind of reptile that plies its nefarious tradebetween two days for no other apparent purpose than that of makinggentlemen farmers like myself miserable.
Fadda Pierce told me that Paris green was an effective antidote againstthese destructive worms, and I have ordered a barrel of it from thecity. I intend to spread a layer of this Paris green over all ourflower and vegetable beds; the contrast thus presented to the dull,sere brown of our lawn will be very pleasing to the eye. In fact, I amnot sure that it would not be cheaper to color our whole lawn withParis green than to attempt to revise it with water, which can be usedwith legal liberality only between the first of November and the firstof May.
By way of illustrating what a mockery our national Department ofAgriculture is, I will say that I wrote to Secretary Morton about thecutworms and asked that he suggest an antidote against the same.Although five weeks have elapsed since I dispatched that letter I havehad no word of any kind from the Department of Agriculture. I feel theslight all the more keenly because I am a personal acquaintance ofSecretary Morton's, having been introduced to and shaken hands with himat the quadrennial convention of the Western Academy of Science atOmaha in 1884. Prompt attention to my letter was due on the score ofold friendship. The Secretary of Agriculture will recognize his errorin offending me if ever he becomes a candidate for the presidency.Reuben Baker never forgets an affront.
But, though my sunflowers and my tomato vines suffered as I havenarrated, my potatoes were doing finely. The potato patch is locatedin the back yard, near the poplar trees; it is in the shape of the BigDipper, and I took the precaution to plant the potatoes in the new ofthe moon. The first planting never amounted to anything, for thereason that I peeled them and cut out the eyes before putting them intheir hills. I learned subsequently that this was as fatal a course asit were possible to pursue. You must never peel potatoes or cut outtheir eyes if you want them to grow. I do not know why this is so, butit is. At any rate, the second crop I planted was a success. Everyday I dug down into the hills to see how the potatoes were progressing,and I was thus enabled to keep track of the development of the tenderfruit.
My young friend Budd Taylor provided me with a dozen ears of seedpopcorn which I planted in a warm, bright spot and which soon bristledup in splendid style. I think it likely that, but for the birds, Ishould have had a crop of popcorn sufficient to supply the Chicagomarket, for I never before saw anything like that corn for luxurianceand thrift. How the birds ever found out about it will doubtlessremain a mystery.
The birds I refer to proved to be blackbirds, although for a time Imistook them for young crows. One morning I detected about three dozenof the poaching rogues stalking through the grass in the direction ofmy corn-patch, and, almost before I knew it, the feathered rascals hadplayed havoc with my promising crop of popcorn. Then I remembered thatI had read and seen pictures in books of scarecrows; so I dressed up afigure and set it up near the corn patch. It was really a very goodcounterfeit of a man, as indeed it ought to have been, for the clothingI used was far from ragged, and Alice had been intending to send it toa poor relative of hers in Nebraska.
The night after I had set up this lay figure in the yard a policemancame along Clarendon Avenue for the first time in his professionalcareer. He espied the figure in the yard and at once mistook it for athief who had come to steal our lawn hose. With a gallantry and with adevotion to duty which cannot be too highly commended, the intrepidpoliceman opened fire with his revolver and put seven holes through thescarecrow before he discovered his mistake.
The cannonading awakened Major Ryson, one of the nearest neighbors, andthat discreet gentleman immediately set his bull terrier loose. Thissagacious but vindictive animal bore down upon the scene of action andtreed the policeman the first thing. Having expended all hisammunition upon the lay figure, the policeman had no means ofinterchanging compliments with his assailant, and was thereforecompelled to spend the night in a willow. Meanwhile the bull terrierencountered the scarecrow, and, mistaking it for a human being, soontore that unfortunate object into ten thousand pieces. Next day ourlawn was literally strewn with straw and buttons and remnants of whathad once been a very decent suit of clothes.
This reference to Major Ryson's bull terrier reminds me of the visitwhich the Baylors' dog paid to our new premises. The Baylors' dog is aSt. Bernard about a year old and weighing one hundred and seventy-fivepounds. Most of the time this amiable leviathan is confined in theBaylors' back yard, a spot hardly large enough to admit of theleviathan's turning around in it. The evening to which I refer theBaylors made a pilgrimage to our new house for the purpose ofascertaining whether we had put in a copper kitchen sink or agalvanized iron one. I can't imagine what possessed them to do it, butthey took the St. Bernard with them. The sense of freedom which thisplayful beast felt upon being let loose in our extensive yard provedwholly uncontrollable, and while the Baylors were investigating thesink question the amiable leviathan gallivanted about the premises withthat elephantine exuberance which is to be expected of a St. Bernardone year old and weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds. Adah(who has an eye to the beautiful) had planted a vast number ofnasturtiums and red geraniums, and under one of the oak trees hadtrained numerous graceful, dainty vines, which, as I recall, are knownto horticultural amateurs as 'cobies.
In the twinkling of an eye the Baylor leviathan swept these blossominginnocents out of existence, and in other twinklings he wroughtdesolation among the peonies, the pansies, and other floral objectsupon which the women folk had lavished a wealth of patient care. Abull in a china-shop could hardly create the havoc which the Baylorpup, with his one hundred and seventy-five pounds of animal spirits,wrought in our lawn. Next morning the lawn looked as if it had beenhonored with a nocturnal
visitation from Burr Robbins' galaxy ofdomesticated wild beasts.
Curiously enough, the Baylors thought it was very funny. I don't knowwhy it is, but it can't be denied that it _is_ a fact that those actswhich in other people's pups strike us as strangely improper, become inour own pups the most natural and most mirth-provoking performances inthe world. I recall the anger with which neighbor Baylor droveneighbor Macleod's mastiff off his porch one evening because thatmastiff attempted to make his way through the screen door behind whichthe family cat was visible. In this instance the Macleod mastiff wassimply following the predominating instinct of the canine kind, andneighbor Baylor hated the unreasonable beast for it. Yet I 'll warrantme that while his own lubberly pup was prancing around over ourflowerbeds neighbor Baylor regarded the performance as the most cunningand most charming divertisement in the world.
It is much the same way with children. If I were put upon oath, Ishould have to admit that the very same antics which I regard as mostseemly (not to say fascinating) in my own pretty little darlings I donot approve of at all when I see them attempted by the awkward, homelychildren of my neighbors.
