Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Families -- Juvenile fiction; Farm life -- Juvenile fiction; New York (State) -- Juvenile fiction
In the comparative leisure which the children enjoyed during August,
they felt amply repaid for the toil of the previous months. We also
managed to secure two great gala-days. The first was spent in a trip to
the seashore; and this was a momentous event, marred by only one slight
drawback. The "Mary Powell," a swift steamer, touched every morning at
the Maizeville Landing. I learned that, from its wharf, in New York,
another steamer started for Coney Island, and came back in time for us
to return on the "Powell" at 3.30 P.M. Thus we could secure a
delightful sail down the river and bay, and also have several hours on
the beach. My wife and I talked over this little outing, and found that
if we took our lunch with us, it would be inexpensive. I saw Mr. Jones,
and induced him and his wife, with Junior, to join us. Then the
children were told of our plan, and their hurrahs made the old house
ring. Now that we were in for it, we proposed no half-way measures.
Four plump spring chickens were killed and roasted, and to these were
added so many ham sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, that I declared that
we were provisioned for a week. My wife nodded at Bobsey, and said,
"Wait and see!"
Whom do you think we employed to mount guard during our absence? No
other than Bagley. Mr. Jones said that it was like asking a wolf to
guard the flock, for his prejudices yielded slowly; but I felt sure
that this proof of trust would do the man more good than a dozen
sermons.
Indeed, he did seem wonderfully pleased with his task, and said, "Ye'll
find I've 'arned my dollar when ye git back."
The children scarcely slept in their glad anticipation, and were up
with the sun. Mr. and Mrs. Jones drove down in their light wagon, while
Junior joined our children in another straw-ride, packed in between the
lunch-baskets. We had ample time after reaching the landing to put our
horses and vehicles in a safe place, and then we watched for the
"Powell." Soon we saw her approaching Newtown, four miles above, then
speeding toward the wharf, and rounding into it, with the ease and
grace of a swan. We scrambled aboard, smiled at by all. I suppose we
did not form, with our lunch-baskets, a very stylish group, but that
was the least of our troubles. I am satisfied that none of the elegant
people we brushed against were half so happy as we were.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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