Peepers and men who talked politics were alike to me those days. They were beyond my understanding and generally put me to sleep--especially the peepers. In my childhood the peepers were the bells of dream-land calling me to rest. The sweet sound no sooner caught my ear than my thoughts began to steal away on tiptoe and in a moment the house of my brain was silent and deserted, and thereafter, for a time, only fairy feet came into it. So even those happy thoughts of a joyous holiday soon left me and I slept.
I was awakened by a cool, gentle hand on my brow. I opened my eyes and saw the homely and beloved face of Uncle Peabody smiling down at me. What a face it was! It welcomed me, always, at the gates of the morning and I saw it in the glow of the candle at night as I set out on my lonely, dreaded voyage into dream-land. Do you wonder that I stop a moment and wipe my glasses when I think of it?
"Hello, Bart!" said he. "It's to-morrer."
I sat up. The delicious odor of frying ham was in the air. The glow of the morning sunlight was on the meadows.
"Come on, ol' friend! By mighty! We're goin' to--" said Uncle Peabody.
Happy thoughts came rushing into my brain again. What a tumult! I leaped out of bed.
"I'll be ready in a minute, Uncle Peabody," I said as, yawning, I drew on my trousers.
"Don't tear yer socks," he cautioned as I lost patience with their unsympathetic behavior.
He helped me with my boots, which were rather tight, and I flew down-stairs with my coat half on and ran for the wash-basin just outside the kitchen door.
"Hello, Bart! If the fish don't bite to-day they ought to be ashamed o' themselves," said Mr. Wright, who stood in the dooryard in an old suit of clothes which belonged to Uncle Peabody.
The sun had just risen over the distant tree-tops and the dew in the meadow grass glowed like a net of silver and the air was chilly. The chores were done. Aunt Deel appeared in the open door as I was wiping my face and hands and said in her genial, company voice:
Aunt Deel never shortened her words when company was there. Her respect was always properly divided between her guest and the English language.
How delicious were the ham, smoked in our own barrels, and the eggs fried in its fat and the baked potatoes and milk gravy and the buckwheat cakes and maple syrup, and how we ate of them! Two big pack baskets stood by the window filled with provisions and blankets, and the black bottom of Uncle Peabody's spider was on the top of one of them, with its handle reaching down into the depths of the basket. The musket and the powder horn had been taken down from the wall and the former leaned on the window-sill.