Aileen Aroon, A Memoir

by William Osborn Stoddard

andI'll make a hump on your back." And he moved off towards the desk forthe strap.

  As I didn't want a hump on my back, instant flight suggested itself tome, as the only way of meeting the difficulty; so I made tracks for thedoor forthwith.

  "Hold him, catch him!" cried the dominie, and a big boy seized me by theskirt of my dress. But I had the presence of mind to meet my teeth inthe fleshy part of the lad's hand; then I was free to flee. Down theavenue I ran as fast as two diminutive shanks could carry me, but I hadstill a hundred yards to run, and capture seemed inevitable, for thedominie was gaining on me fast. But help was most unexpectedly at hand,for, to my great joy, our pet bull-terrier, "Danger," suddenly put in anappearance. The dog seemed to take in the whole situation at a glance,and it was now the dominie's turn to shake in his shoes. And Dangerwent for him in grand style, too. I don't know that he hurt him verymuch, but to have to return to school with five-and-thirty pounds ofpure-bred bull-terrier hanging to one's hump, cannot be very grateful toone's feelings. I was not sent to that seminary any more for a year,but it dawned upon me even thus early that dogs have their uses.

  When I was a year or two older I had as a companion and pet ablack-and-tan terrier called "Tip," and a dear good-hearted game littlefellow he was; and he and I were always of the same mind, full of fanand fond of mischief. Tip could fetch and carry almost anything; aloose railway rug, for example, would be a deal heavier than he, but iftold he would drag one up three flights of stairs walking backwards.Again, if you showed him anything, and then hid it, he would find itwherever it was. He was not on friendly terms with the cat though; sheused him shamefully, and finding him one day in a room by himself shewhacked him through the open window, and Tip fell two storeys. Dead?No. Tip fell on his feet.

  One day Tip was a long time absent, and when he came into the garden hecame up to me and placed a large round ball all covered with thorns atmy feet.

  "Whatever is it, Tip?" I asked.

  "That's a hoggie," said Tip, "and ain't my mouth sore just."

  I put down my hands to lift it up, and drew them back with pricked andbleeding fingers. Then I shrieked, and nursie came running out, andshook me, and whacked me on the back as if I had swallowed a bone.That's how she generally served me.

  "What is it now?" she cried; "you're never out of mischief; did Tip biteyou?"

  "No, no," I whimpered, "the beastie bited me."

  Then I had three pets for many a day, Tip and the cat and the hedgehog,who grew very tame indeed.

  Maggie Hay was nursie's name. I was usually packed off to bed early inthe evening, and got the cat with me, and in due time Maggie came. Butone night the cat and I quarrelled, so I slipped out of bed, and creptquietly down to the back kitchen, and returned with my hoggie in thefront of my nightdress, and went back to my couch. I was just in thatblissful state of independence, between sleeping and waking, when Maggiecame upstairs to bed. The hoggie had crept out of my arms, and had gonegoodness knows whither, and I didn't care, but I know this much, thatMaggie had no sooner got in and laid down, than she gave vent to a loudscream, and sprang on to the floor again, and stood shaking andshivering like a ghost in the moonlight. I suppose she had laid herselfdown right on top of my hoggie, and hoggie not being used to suchtreatment had doubtless got its spines up at once. I leave you to guesswhether Maggie gave me a shaking or not. This pet lived for three longhappy months, and its food was porridge and milk, morsels of green food,and beetles, which it caught on its own account. But I suppose itlonged for its old gipsy life in the green fields, and missed the tenderherbs and juicy slugs it had been wont to gather by the foot of thehedgerows. I don't know, but one morning I found my poor hoggie rolledup in a little ball with one leg sticking out; it was dead and stiff.

  Maggie took it solemnly up by that one leg as if it had been a handleand carried it away and buried it; then she came back with her eyes wetand kissed me, and gave me a large--very large--slice of bread with anextra allowance of treacle on it. But there seemed to be a big lump inmy throat; I tried hard to eat, but failed miserably, only--I managed tolick the treacle off.

  My little friend Tip was of a very inquiring turn of mind, and thistrait in his character led to his miserable end.

  One day some men were blasting stones in a neighbouring field, and Tipseeing what he took to be a rat's tail sticking out of a stone, and athin wreath of blue smoke curling up out of it, went to investigate.

  He did not come back to tell tales; he was carried on high with thehurtling stones and _debris_, and I never saw my poor Tip any more.

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  EARLY STUDIES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

  "Within a bush her covert nest A little birdie fondly prest; The dew sat chilly on her breast, Sae early in the morning."

  Burns.

  Shortly after the melancholy death of Tip, some one presented me with apuppy, and some one else presented me with a rook. My knowledge ofnatural history was thus progressing. That unhappy pup took thedistemper and died. If treated for the dire complaint at all, it was nodoubt after the rough and harsh fashion, common, till very lately, ofbattling with it.

  So my puppy died. As to the rook, a quicker fate was reserved for him.The bird and I soon grew as thick as thieves. He was a veryaffectionate old chap, and slept at night in a starling's cage in thebedroom. He was likewise a somewhat noisy bird, and veryself-asserting, and would never allow us to sleep a wink after five inthe morning. Maggie tried putting his breakfast into the cage the nightbefore. This only made matters worse, for he got up at three o'clock toeat it, and was quite prepared for another at five. Maggie said sheloved the bird, because he saved her so many scoldings by wakening herso punctually every morning. I should think he did waken her, with avengeance too. He had a peculiar way of roaring "Caw! Caw!" that wouldhave wakened Rip Van Winkle himself. Like the great Highland bagpipe,the voice of a healthy rook sounds very well about a mile off, but itisn't exactly the thing for indoor delectation. But my uncle sat downupon my poor rook one day, and the bird gave vent to one last "Caw!" andwas heard again--nevermore. My mother told him he ought to be morecareful. My uncle sat down on the same chair again next day, and,somehow, a pin went into him further than was pleasant. Then I told himhe ought to be more careful, and he boxed my ears, and I bit him, andnursie came and shook me and whacked me on the back as if I had beenchoking; so, on the whole, I think I was rather roughly dealt withbetween the two of them. However, I took it out of Maggie in anotherway, and found her very necessary and handy in my study of naturalhistory, which, even at this early age, I had developed a taste for. Ihad as a plaything a small wooden church, which I fondled all day, andtook to bed with me at night. One fine day I had an adventure with awasp which taught me a lesson. I had half-filled my little church withflies to represent a congregation, but as they wouldn't sing unless Ishook them, and as Maggie told me nobody ever shook a real church tomake the congregation sing, I concluded it was a parson they lacked, andwent to catch a large yellow fly, which I saw on the window-ledge. _He_would make them sing I had no doubt. Well, he made me sing, anyhow. Itwas long before I forgot the agony inflicted by that sting. Maggie cameflying towards me, and I hurled church, congregation, and all at herhead, and went off into a first-class fit. But this taught me a lesson,and I never again interfered with any animal or insect, until I hadfirst discovered what their powers of retaliation were; beetles andflies were old favourites, whose attendance at church I compelled. Iwasn't sure of the earthworm at first, nor of the hairy caterpillar, buta happy thought struck me, and, managing to secure a specimen of each,and holding them in a tea-cup, I watched my chance, and when nursiewasn't looking emptied them both down her back. When the poor girlwriggled and shrieked with horror, I looked calmly on like a youngstoic, and asked her did they bite. Finding they didn't, they becameespecial favourites with me. I put every new specimen I found,instantly or on the first chance, down poor Maggie's back or bosom, andthus, day by day, whil
e I increased in stature, day by day I grew inknowledge. I wasn't quite successful once, however, with a centipede.I had been prospecting, as the Yankees say, around the garden, searchingfor specimens, and I found this chap under a stone. He was about aslong as a penholder, and had apparently as many legs as a legion of theBlack Watch. Under these circumstances, thinks I to myself what acapital parson he'll make. So I dismissed all my congregation on thespot, and placed the empty church at his disposal, with the door thereofmost invitingly open, but he wouldn't hear of going in. Perhaps,thought I, he imagines the church isn't long enough to hold him, so Idetermined, for his own comfort, to cut him in two with my egg-cup, thenI could capture first one end of him, and then the other, and empty themdown nursie's back, and await results.