Children -- United States; United States -- Social life and customs -- To 1775
A grotesquery could be formed from the seed-pods in the centre of
the peony, when opened, in such a way that the tiny pink and white
seeds resembled two sets of teeth in an open mouth. Imaginary
miniature likenesses were found in the various parts of many
flowers: the naked pistil and stamens of one were a pair of tongs;
another had a seed ovary which was a lady, a very stout lady with
extending hoops. The heart's-ease had in its centre an old lady
washing her feet; the monk's-hood, a devil in his chariot. A single
petal of the columbine, with attached sepals, was a hovering dove,
and the whole flower--Izaak Walton's "culverkeys"--formed a little
dish with a ring of pigeon-heads bending within.
There were many primitive inks and staining juices that could be
expressed, and milks and gums that exuded, from various plants. We
painted pictures in our books with the sap from the petals of the
red peonies, and blue juice from the blossom of the spiderwort, or
tradescantia, now a neglected flower. We dyed dolls' clothes with
the juice of elderberries. The country child could also dye a vivid
red with the juice of the pokeberry, the "red-ink" plant, or with
the stems of the bloodroot; and the sap crushed from soft, pulpy
leaves, such as those of the live-for-ever, furnished a green stain.
There was a certain garden lore connected with insects, not so
extensive, probably, as a child would have upon a farm. We said to
the snail:--
"Snail, snail, come out of your hole,
Or else I will beat you as black as a coal."
We sang to the lady-bug:--
"Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home;
Your house is on fire, your children will burn."
We caught the grasshoppers, and thus exhorted them:--
"Grandfather, grandfather gray,
Give me molasses, or I'll throw you away."
We believed that earwigs lived for the sole purpose of penetrating
our ears, that dragon-flies flew with the sole thought of sewing
up our lips--devil's darning-needles we called them. To this day
I instinctively cover my mouth at their approach. We used to
entrap bumble-bees in the bells of monopetalous flowers such as
canterbury-bells, or in the ample folds of the hollyhock, and
listen to their indignant scolding and buzzing, and watch them gnaw
and push out to freedom. I cannot recall ever being stung in the
process.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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