Boys and Girls of Colonial Days
Page 6
THE IRON STOVE
"Did you see him to-day?" asked a little girl in gray, all excitement,as she opened the door to admit her brother.
The boy, shaking with the cold--for it was winter and his jacket was nonetoo thick--set down his basket on the rough deal table, and leaned overthe tiny fire that burned on the hearth. His eyes shone, though, as heturned to answer his sister.
"Yes, Beth, I saw him down at the wharf and he gave me this." As hespoke, William drew from underneath his coat, where he had tucked it tosurprise Beth, a crude little brush made of rushes bound together withnarrow strips of willow.
"What is it?" Beth took the brush in her hands and held it up to thelight, looking at it curiously. She made a quaint picture in theshifting light of the fire, a little Quaker girl of old Philadelphia,her yellow curls tucked inside a close-fitting gray cap, and herstraight gray frock reaching almost to the heels of her heavy shoes.
"It is something new for cleaning," William explained. He took the brushand began sweeping up the ashes on the hearth, as Beth watched himcuriously. "Mr. Franklin brought a whole bunch of them down to the wharfto show to people, and he gave me one."
"How did he make it?" Beth asked curiously.
"It took him a whole year, for it had to grow first," William explained."He saw some brush baskets last year that the sea captains had broughtfruit in, lying in the wet on the wharf. They had sprouted and sent outshoots, so what did Mr. Franklin do but plant the shoots in his garden.They grew and this year he had a fine crop of broom corn, as he calledit. He dried it, and bound it into these brushes. He has some with longhandles, and he calls them brooms."
The children's mother had come in now from the next room and she graspedthe hearth brush with eagerness.
"It is just what Philadelphia, the city of cleanliness, needs," shesaid, as she went to work brushing the corners of the window sills andthe mantle piece. "If we were to take more thought of our houses andless of these street brawls as to who is for, and who is against theking, it would be better."
"That is what Mr. Franklin does," William said. "Do you remember how thestreets were full of quarreling folk last summer, and a hard thunderstorm came up that every one thought was sent directly from the skies asa punishment for our wickedness? The women and children were crying, andthe men praying when Mr. Franklin came in their midst. I can see himnow, looking like a prophet with his long hair flowing over hisshoulders and his long cloak streaming out behind him. As the skiesflashed with lightning and the thunder crashed he told them not to beafraid. He said that he would give them lightning rods to put on theirhouses that would keep them from burning down."
"Yes," their mother said. "He helps us all very much. Mr. Franklin istruly our good neighbor in Philadelphia."
As her mother finished speaking, Beth emptied the basket that Williamhad brought in. There was not a great deal in it--a little flour, sometea, a very tiny package of sugar, and some potatoes. She arranged themon the shelves in the kitchen, shivering a little as she moved about thecold room.
Chill comfort it would seem to a child to-day. Philadelphia was a newcity, and these settlers from across the sea had brought little withthem to make their lives cheerful. Outside, huge piles of snow driftedthe narrow streets and were banked on the low stone doorsteps of thesmall red brick houses. A chill wind blew up from the wharves and suchof the Friends as were out hurried along with bent heads, against whichthe cold beat, and they wrapped their long cloaks closely around them.
It was almost as cold in the Arnold's house as it was outside. Thechildren's father had not been able to stand the hardships of the newcountry, and there were only Beth, and William, and their mother left toface this winter. Mrs. Arnold did fine sewing, and William ran errandsfor the sailors and merchantmen down at the wharves, having his basketfilled with provisions in return for his work. It was a hard winter forthem, though; no one could deny that.
Mrs. Arnold drew her chair up to the fireplace now and opened her bag ofsewing. Beth leaned over her shoulder as she watched the thin, whitefingers trying to fly in and out of white cloth.
"Your fingers are stiff with the cold," Beth exclaimed as she blew thecoals with the bellows and then rubbed her mother's hands.
"Not very," she tried to smile.
"Yes, very," William said as he swung his arms and blew on his fingertips. "We're all of us cold. It would be easier to work if we could onlykeep warm."
Just then they heard a rap at the brass knocker of their door. Beth ranto open it, and both children shouted with delight as a strange,slightly stooping figure entered. His long white hair made him look likesome old patriarch. His forehead was high, and his eyes deep set in hislong, thin face. His long cloak folded him like a mantle. He reached outtwo toil-hardened hands to greet the family.
"Mr. Franklin!" their mother exclaimed. "We are most glad to see you.You are our very welcome guest always, but it is poor hospitality we areable to offer you. Our fire is very small and the house cold."
"A small fire is better than none," their guest said, "and the welcomein Friend Arnold's house is always so warm that it makes a fireunnecessary. Still," he looked at the children's blue lips and pinchedcheeks, "I wish that your hearth were wider."
He crossed to the fireplace, feeling of the bricks and measuring withhis eye the breadth and depth of the opening in the chimney. He seemedlost in thought for a moment, and then his face suddenly shone with asmile like the one it had worn when he had seen the first green shootsof the broom corn pushing their way up through the ground of his garden.
"What is it, Mr. Franklin?" Beth asked. "What do you see up in ourchimney?"
"A surprise," the good neighbor of Philadelphia replied. "If I make nomistake in my plans, you will see that surprise before long. In themeantime, be of good cheer."
He was gone as quickly as he had come, but he had left a glow of cheerand neighborliness behind him. All Philadelphia was warmed in this wayby Benjamin Franklin. Whenever he crossed a threshold, he brought thespirit of comfort and helpfulness to the house.
"What do you suppose he meant?" Beth asked as the door closed behind thequaint figure of the man.
"I wonder," William said. Then he took out his speller and copy book andthe words of their visitor were soon forgotten.
But all Philadelphia began to wonder soon at the doings at the big whitehouse where Benjamin Franklin lived. The neighbors were used to hearingbusy sounds of hammering and tinkering coming from the back where Mr.Franklin had built himself a workshop. Now, however, he sent away for asmall forge and its flying sparks could be seen and the sound of itsbellows heard in the stillness of the long, cold winter nights. Greatslabs of iron were unloaded for him at the wharf, and for days no onesaw him. He was shut up in his workshop and from morning until nightpassers-by heard ringing blows on iron coming from it as if it were theshop of some country blacksmith.
"Benjamin Franklin wastes his time," said some of the Philadelphians."He should be in the town hall, helping us to settle some of our landdisputes."
But others spoke more kindly of the man of helpful hands.
"Mr. Franklin is making Philadelphia truly a City of Friends by beingthe best Friend of us all," they said.
None could explain Benjamin Franklin's present occupation, though.
In the middle of the winter Beth and William and their mother went to afriend's house to stay for a week. Mrs. Arnold was not well, and thehouse was very cold. The week for which they were invited lengthenedinto two, then three.
"We must go home," Mrs. Arnold said at last. "Mr. Franklin said that hewould stop this afternoon and help William carry the carpet bag. It istime that we began our work again."
"THEY TOOK THEIR HOMEWARD WAY THROUGH THE SNOW"]
As they took their homeward way through the snow, they noticed, again,the happy smile on Mr. Franklin's kind face. He held the handle of thebag with one hand and Beth's chilly little fingers with the other. Hewas the spryest of them all as they hurried on. They
understood why, asthey opened the door of their home.
They started, at first, wondering if, by any chance they had come to thewrong house. No, there were the familiar things just as they had leftthem; the row of shining copper pans on the wall, the polishedcandlesticks on the mantel piece, the warming pan in the corner and thebraided rag rugs on the floor. But the house was as warm as summer. Theyhad never felt such comforting heat in the winter time before. Thefireplace, that had been all too tiny, was gone. In its place, againstthe chimney, was a crude iron stove, partly like a fireplace in shape,but with a top and sides that held and spread the heat of the glowingfire inside until the whole room glowed with it.
THE FIRST STOVE]
"That is my surprise," Mr. Franklin explained, rubbing his hands withpleasure as he saw the wonder and delight in the faces of the others,"an iron genie to drive out the cold and frighten away the frosts. Youcan cook on it, or hang the kettle over the coals. It will keep thecoals alive all night and not eat up as much fuel as your draughtyfireplace did. This is my winter gift to my dear Friend Arnolds."
"Oh, how wonderful! How can we thank you for it? We, who were so poor,are the richest family in all Philadelphia now. Now I shall be able towork!" the children's mother said.
Beth and William put out their hands to catch the friendly warmth of thefire in this, the first stove, in the City of Friends. It warmed themthrough and through. Then William examined its rough mechanism so thathe would be able to tend it, and Beth bustled about the room, fillingthe shining brass teakettle and putting a spoonful of tea in the pot todraw a cup for their mother and Mr. Franklin. At last she turned to him,her blue eyes looking deep in his.
"You are so good to us," Beth said. "Why did you work so hard to inventand make this iron stove for us?"
The kindest Friend that old Philadelphia ever had stopped a second tothink. He never knew the reason for his good deeds. They were as naturalas the flowering of the broom corn in his garden. At last he spoke:
"Because of your warm hearts, little Friend," he said. "Not that theyneeded any more heat, but that you may see their glow reflected in thefires you kindle in my stove."
And so may we feel the kindly warmth of Benjamin Franklin's heart in ourstoves, which are so much better, but all modelled after the one he madefor his neighbors in the Quaker City of long ago.