The Adventures of A Brownie Read online

  ADVENTURE THE SIXTH AND LAST

  BROWNIE AND THE CLOTHES

  TILL the next time; but when there is a Brownie in the house, no one cansay that any of his tricks will be the last. For there's no stopping aBrownie, and no getting rid of him either. This one had followed thefamily from house to house, generation after generation--never anyolder, and sometimes seeming even to grow younger by the tricks heplayed. In fact, though he looked like an old man, he was a perpetualchild.

  To the children he never did any harm, quite the contrary. And his chiefmisdoings were against those who vexed the children. But he graduallymade friends with several of his grown up enemies. Cook, for instance,who had ceased to be lazy at night and late in the morning, found nomore black footmarks on her white table cloth. And Brownie found hisbasin of milk waiting for him, night after night, behind the coal-cellardoor.

  Bill, too, got on well enough with his pony, and Jess was taken no morenight-rides. No ducks were lost; and Dolly gave her milk quitecomfortably to whoever milked her. Alas! this was either Bill or theGardener's wife now. After that adventure on the ice, poor Gardener veryseldom appeared; when he did, it was on two crutches, for he had hadrheumatism in his feet, and could not stir outside his cottage door.Bill, therefore, had double work; which was probably all the better forBill.

  The garden had to take care of itself; but this being winter-time, itdid not much signify. Besides, Brownie seldom went into the garden,except in summer; during the hard weather he preferred to stop in hiscoal-cellar. It might not have been a lively place, but it was warm, andhe liked it.

  He had company there, too; for when the cat had more kittens--the kittenhe used to tease being grown up now--they were all put in a hamper inthe coal-cellar; and of cold nights Brownie used to jump in beside them,and be as warm and as cozy as a kitten himself. The little things neverwere heard to mew; so it may be supposed they liked his society. And theold mother-cat evidently bore him no malice for the whipping she had gotby mistake; so Brownie must have found means of coaxing her over. Onething you may be sure of--all the while she and her kittens were in hiscoal-cellar, he took care never to turn himself into a mouse.

  He was spending the winter, on the whole, very comfortably, without muchtrouble either to himself or his neighbors, when one day, thecoal-cellar being nearly empty, two men, and a great wagon-load of coalsbehind them, came to the door, Gardener's wife following.

  "My man says you're to give the cellar a good cleaning out before youput any more in," said she, in her sharp voice; "and don't be lazy aboutit. It'll not take you ten minutes, for it's nearly all coal-dust,except that one big lump in the corner--you might clear that out too."

  "Stop, it's the Brownie's lump! better not meddle with it," whisperedthe little scullery-maid.

  "Don't you meddle with matters that can't concern you," said theGardener's wife, who had been thinking what a nice help it would be toher fire. To be sure, it was not her lump of coal, but she thought shemight take it; the mistress would never miss it, or the Brownie either.He must be a very silly old Brownie to live under a lump of coal.

  So she argued with herself, and made the men lift it. "You must lift it,you see, if you are to sweep the coal-cellar out clean. And you may aswell put it on the barrow, and I'll wheel it out of your way."

  This she said in quite a civil voice, lest they should tell of her, andstood by while it was being done. It was done without any thinghappening, except that a large rat ran out of the coal-cellar door,bouncing against her feet, and frightening her so much that she nearlytumbled down.

  "See what nonsense it is to talk of Brownies living in a coal-cellar.Nothing lives there but rats, and I'll have them poisoned pretty soon,and get rid of them."

  But she was rather frightened all the same, for the rat had been such avery big rat, and had looked at her, as it darted past, with such wild,bright, mischievous eyes--brown eyes, of course--that she all but jumpedwith surprise.

  However, she had got her lump of coal, and was wheeling it quietly away,nobody seeing, to her cottage at the bottom of the garden. She was ahard-worked woman, and her husband's illness made things harder for her.Still, she was not quite easy at taking what did not belong to her.

  "I don't suppose any body will miss the coal," she repeated. "I dare saythe mistress would have given it to me if I had asked her; and as forits being the Brownie's lump--fudge! Bless us! what's that?"

  For the barrow began to creak dreadfully, and every creak sounded likethe cry of a child, just as if the wheel were going over its leg andcrushing its poor little bones.

  "What a horrid noise! I must grease the barrow. If only I knew wherethey keep the grease-box. All goes wrong, now my old man's laid up. Oh,dear! oh dear!"

  For suddenly the barrow had tilted over, though there was not a singlestone near, and the big coal was tumbled on to the ground, where itbroke into a thousand pieces. Gathering it up again was hopeless, and itmade such a mess on the gravel-walk, that the old woman was thankful hermisfortune happened behind the privet hedge, where nobody was likely tocome.

  "I'll take a broom and sweep it up to-morrow. Nobody goes near theorchard now, except me when I hang out the clothes; so I need saynothing about it to the old man or any body. But ah! deary me, what abeautiful lot of coal I've lost!"

  She stood and looked at it mournfully, and then went into her cottage,where she found two or three of the little children keeping Gardenercompany. They did not dislike to do this now; but he was so much kinderthan he used to be--so quiet and patient, though he suffered very much.And he had never once reproached them for what they alwaysremembered--how it was ever since he was on the ice with them that hehad got the rheumatism.

  Suddenly the barrow had tilted over.]

  So, one or other of them made a point of going to see him every day, andtelling him all the funny things they could think of--indeed, it was acontest among them who should first make Gardener laugh. They did notsucceed in doing that exactly; but they managed to make him smile; andhe was always gentle and grateful to them; so that they sometimesthought it was rather nice his being ill.

  But his wife was not pleasant; she grumbled all day long, and snapped athim and his visitors; being especially snappish this day, because shehad lost her big coal.

  "I can't have you children come bothering here," said she, crossly. "Iwant to wring out my clothes, and hang them to dry. Be off with you!"

  "Let us stop a little--just to tell Gardener this one curious thingabout Dolly and the pig--and then we'll help you to take your clothes tothe orchard; we can carry your basket between us--we can, indeed."

  That was the last thing the woman wished; for she knew the that thechildren would be sure to see the mess on the gravel-walk--and theywere such inquisitive children--they noticed every thing. They wouldwant to know all about it, and how the bits of coal came there. It wasvery a awkward position. But people who take other people's propertyoften do find themselves in awkward positions.

  "Thank you, young gentlemen," said she, quite politely; "but indeed thebasket is too heavy for you. However, you may stop and gossip a littlelonger with my old man. He likes it."

  And, while they were shut up with Gardener in his bedroom, off she went,carrying the basket on her head, and hung her clothes carefully out--thebig things on lines between the fruit trees, and the little things, suchas stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, stuck on the gooseberry-bushes,or spread upon the clean green grass.

  "Such a fine day as it is! they'll dry directly," said she, cheerfully,to herself. "Plenty of sun, and not a breath of wind to blow them about.I'll leave them for an hour or two, and come and fetch them in before itgrows dark. Then I shall get all my folding done by bedtime, and have aclear day for ironing to-morrow."

  But when she did fetch them in, having bundled them all together in thedusk of the evening, never was such a sight as those clothes! They wereall twisted in the oddest way--the stockings turned inside out, with theheels and toes tucked into the legs; the
sleeves of the shirts tiedtogether in double knots, the pocket-handkerchiefs made into roundballs, so tight that if you had pelted a person with them they wouldhave given very hard blows indeed. And the whole looked as if, insteadof lying quietly on the grass and bushes, they had been dragged throughheaps of mud and then stamped upon, so that there was not a clean inchupon them from end to end.

  "What a horrid mess!" cried the Gardener's wife, who had been at firstvery angry, and then very frightened. "But I know what it is; that nastyBoxer has got loose again. It's he that has done it."

  "Boxer wouldn't tie shirt-sleeves in double knots, or make balls ofpocket-handkerchiefs," Gardener was heard to answer, solemnly.

  "Then it's those horrid children; they are always up to some mischief orother--just let me catch them!"

  "You'd better not," said somebody in a voice exactly like Gardener's,though he himself declared he had not spoken a word. Indeed, he was fastasleep.

  "Well, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," theGardener's wife said, supposing she was talking to her husband all thetime; but soon she held her tongue, for she found here and there amongthe clothes all sorts of queer marks--marks of fingers, and toes, andheels, not in mud at all, but in coal-dust, as black as black could be.

  Now, as the place where the big coal had tumbled out of the barrow wasfully fifty yards from the orchard, and, as the coal could not come tothe clothes, and the clothes could not go without hands, the onlyconclusion she could arrive at was--well, no particular conclusion atall!

  It was too late that night to begin washing again; besides, she wasextremely tired, and her husband woke up rather worse than usual, so shejust bundled the clothes up anyhow in a corner, put the kitchen torights, and went mournfully to bed.

  Next morning she got up long before it was light, washed her clothesthrough all over again, and, it being impossible to dry them by thefire, went out with them once more, and began spreading them out intheir usual corner, in a hopeless and melancholy manner. While she wasat it, the little folks came trooping around her. She didn't scold themthis time, she was too low-spirited.

  "No! my old man isn't any better, and I don't fancy he ever will be,"said she, in answer to their questions. "And every thing's going wrongwith us--just listen!" And she told the trick which had been played herabout the clothes.

  The little people tried not to laugh, but it was so funny; and even now,the minute she had done hanging them out, there was something so drollin the way the clothes blew about, without any wind; the shirts hangingwith their necks downward, as if there was a man inside them; and thedrawers standing stiffly astride on the gooseberry-bushes, for all theworld as if they held a pair of legs still. As for Gardener'snight-caps--long, white cotton, with a tassel at the top--they werealarming to look at; just like a head stuck on the top of a pole.

  The whole thing was so peculiar, and the old woman so comical in herdespair, that the children, after trying hard to keep it in, at lastbroke into shouts of laughter. She turned furiously upon them.

  "It was you who did it!"

  "No, indeed it wasn't!" said they, jumping farther to escape her blows.For she had got one of her clothes-props, and was laying about her inthe most reckless manner. However, she hurt nobody, and then shesuddenly burst out, not laughing, but crying.

  "It's a cruel thing, whoever has done it, to play such tricks on a poorold body like me, with a sick husband that she works hard for, and not achild to help her. But I don't care. I'll wash my clothes again, if it'stwenty times over, and I'll hang them out again in the very place, justto make you all ashamed of yourselves."

  Perhaps the little people were ashamed of themselves, though they reallyhad not done the mischief. But they knew quite well who had done it, andmore than once they were about to tell; only they were afraid, if theydid so, they should vex the Brownie so much that he would never come andplay with them any more.

  So they looked at one another without speaking, and when the Gardener'swife had emptied her basket and dried her eyes, they said to her, verykindly:

  "Perhaps no harm may come to your clothes this time. We'll sit and watchthem till they are dry."

  "Just as you like; I don't care. Them that hides can find, and them thatplays tricks knows how to stop 'em."

  It was not a civil speech, but then things were hard for the poor oldwoman. She had been awake nearly all night, and up washing at daybreak;her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and slow. The littlechildren felt quite sorry for her, and, instead of going to play, satwatching the clothes as patiently as possible.

  Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed to danceabout without hands, and turn into odd shapes, as if there were peopleinside them; but not a creature was seen and not a sound was heard. Andthough there was neither wind nor sun, very soon all the linen wasperfectly dry.

  "Fetch one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold it up as tidily aspossible--that is, the girls can do it, it's their business--and we boyswill carry it safe to Gardener's cottage."

  So said they, not liking to say that they could not trust it out oftheir sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting tosee peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret fear thathe was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest little girlwhispered, "He was only a Brownie, and knew no better." Now they weregrowing quite big children, who would be men and women some time; whenthey hoped they would never do any thing wrong. (Their parents hoped thesame, but doubted it.)

  In a serious and careful manner they folded up the clothes, and laidthem one by one in the basket without any mischief, until, just as thetwo biggest boys were lifting their burden to carry it away, they feltsomething tugging at it from underneath.

  "Halloo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give it to me."

  "No, if you please," said they, very civilly, not to offend the littlebrown man. "We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it ourselves;for poor Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, and weare extremely sorry for them both."

  "Extremely sorry!" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the air, andtumbling head over heels in an excited manner. "What in the world doesextremely sorry mean?"

  The children could not explain, especially to a Brownie; but theythought they understood--anyhow, they felt it. And they looked sosorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it.

  He could not be said to be sorry, since, being a Brownie, and not ahuman being, knowing right from wrong, he never tried particularly to doright, and had no idea that he was doing wrong. But he seemed to have anidea that he was troubling the children, and he never liked to see themlook unhappy.

  So he turned head over heels six times running, and then came backagain.

  "The silly old woman! I washed her clothes for her last night in a wayshe didn't expect. I hadn't any soap, so I used a little mud andcoal-dust, and very pretty they looked. Ha, ha, ha! Shall I wash themover again to-night?"

  "Oh, no, please don't!" implored the children.

  "Shall I starch and iron them? I'll do it beautifully. One--two--three,five--six--seven, Abracadabra, tum--tum--ti!" shouted he, jabbering allsorts of nonsense, as it seemed to the children, and playing such anticsthat they stood and stared in the utmost amazement, and quite forgot theclothes. When they looked round again, the basket was gone.

  "Seek till you find, seek till you find, Under the biggest gooseberry-bush, exactly to your mind."

  They heard him singing this remarkable rhyme, long after they had lostsight of him. And then they all set about searching; but it was a longwhile before they found, and still longer before they could decide,which was the biggest gooseberry-bush, each child having his or heropinion--sometimes a very strong one--on the matter. At last they agreedto settle it by pulling half-a-dozen little sticks, to see which stickwas the longest, and the child that held it was to decide thegooseberry-bush.

  This done, underneath the branches what should they fi
nd but theidentical basket of clothes! only, instead of being roughly dried, theywere all starched and ironed in the most beautiful manner. As for theshirts, they really were a picture to behold, and the stockings were allfolded up, and even darned in one or two places, as neatly as possible.And strange to tell, there was not a single black mark of feet orfingers on any one of them.

  "Kind little Brownie! clever little Brownie!" cried the children inchorus, and thought this was the most astonishing trick he had everplayed.

  What the Gardener's wife said about it, whether they told her any thing,or allowed her to suppose that the clothes had been done in their ownlaundry instead of the Brownie's (wherever that establishment might be),is more than I can tell. Of one thing only I am certain--that the littlepeople said nothing but what was true. Also, that the very minute theygot home they told their mother every thing.

  But for a long time after that they were a good deal troubled. Gardenergot better, and went hobbling about the place again, to his own andevery body's great content, and his wife was less sharp-tongued andcomplaining than usual--indeed, she had nothing to complain of. All thefamily were very flourishing, except the little Brownie.

  Often there was heard a curious sound all over the house; it might havebeen rats squeaking behind the wainscot--the elders said it was--but thechildren were sure it was a sort of weeping and wailing.

  "They've stolen my coal, And I haven't a hole To hide in; Not even a house One could ask a mouse To bide in."

  A most forlorn tune it was, ending in a dreary minor key, and it lastedfor months and months--at least the children said it did. And they weregrowing quite dull for want of a playfellow, when, by the greatest goodluck in the world, there came to the house not only a new lot ofkittens, but a new baby. And the new baby was everybody's pet, includingthe Brownie's.

  The new baby was everybody's pet.--Page 87]

  From that time, though he was not often seen, he was continually heardup and down the staircase, where he was frequently mistaken for Tiny orthe cat, and sent sharply down again, which was wasting a great deal ofwholesome anger upon Mr. Nobody. Or he lurked in odd corners of thenursery, whither the baby was seen crawling eagerly after nothing inparticular, or sitting laughing with all her might at something--probablyher own toes.

  But, as Brownie was never seen, he was never suspected. And since he didno mischief--neither pinched the baby nor broke the toys, left no soapin the bath and no footmarks about the room--but was always awell-conducted Brownie in every way, he was allowed to inhabit thenursery (or supposed to do so, since, as nobody saw him, nobody couldprevent him), until the children were grown up into men and women.

  After that he retired into his coal-cellar, and, for all I know, he maylive there still, and have gone through hundreds of adventures since;but as I never heard them, I can't tell them. Only I think, if I couldbe a little child again, I should exceedingly like a Brownie to playwith me. Should not you?

  Some Poems For Children

  By Miss Mulock]

  THE BLACKBIRD AND THE ROOKS.

  A SLENDER young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree A spruce little fellow as ever could be; His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black, So long was his tail, and so glossy his back, That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs, And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.

  And such a kind husband! how early and late He would sit at the top of the old garden gate, And sing, just as merry as if it were June, Being ne'er out of patience, or temper, or tune. "So unlike those Rooks, dear; from morning till night They seem to do nothing but quarrel and fight, And wrangle and jangle, and plunder--while we Sit, honest and safe, in our pretty thorn-tree."

  Just while she was speaking, a lively young Rook Alit with a flap that the thorn-bush quite shook, And seizing a stick from the nest--"Come, I say, That will just suit me, neighbor"--flew with it away The lady loud twittered--her husband soon heard: Though peaceful, he was not a cowardly bird; And with arguments angry enough to o'erwhelm A whole Rookery--flew to the top of the elm.

  "How dare you, you--" (thief he was going to say; But a civiller sentiment came in the way: For he knew 'tis no good, and it anyhow shames A gentleman, calling strange gentlemen names:) "Pray what is your motive, Sir Rook, for such tricks, As building your mansion with other folks' sticks? I request you'll restore them, in justice and law." At which the whole colony set up a--caw!

  But Blackbird, not silenced, then spoke out again; "I've built my small nest with much labor and pain. I'm a poor singing gentleman, Sirs, it is true, Though cockneys do often mistake me for you; But I keep Mrs. Blackbird, and four little eggs, And neither e'er pilfers, or borrows, or begs. Now have I not right on my side, do you see?" But they flew at and pecked him all down the elm-tree.

  Ah! wickedness prospers sometimes, I much fear; And virtue's not always victorious, that's clear: At least, not at first: for it must be confessed Poor Blackbird lost many a stick from his nest; And his unkind grand neighbors with scoffing caw-caws, In his voice and his character found many flaws, And jeered him and mocked him; but when they'd all done, He flew to his tree and sang cheerily on.

  At length May arrived with her garlands of leaves; The swallows were building beneath the farm-eaves, Wrens, linnets, and sparrows, on every hedge-side, Were bringing their families out with great pride; While far above all, on the tallest tree-top, With a flutter and clamor that never did stop, The haughty old Rooks held their heads up so high, And dreamed not of trouble--until it drew nigh!

  One morning at seven, as he came with delight To his wife's pretty parlor of may-blossoms white, Having fed all his family ere rise of sun,-- Mr. Blackbird perceived--a big man with a gun; Who also perceived him: "See, Charlie, among That may, sits the Blackbird we've heard for so long: Most likely his nest's there--how frightened he looks! Nay, Blackie, we're not come for you, but the Rooks."

  I don't say 'twas cruel--I can't say 'twas kind-- On the subject I haven't quite made up my mind: But those guns went pop-popping all morning, alas! And young Rooks kept dropping among the long grass, Till good Mr. Blackbird, who watched the whole thing, For pity could scarcely a single note sing, And in the May sunset he hardly could bear To hear the returning Rooks' caw of despair.

  "O, dear Mrs. Blackbird," at last warbled he, "How happy we are in our humble thorn-tree; How gaily we live, living honest and poor, How sweet are the may-blossoms over our door." "And then our dear children," the mother replied, And she nested them close to her warm feathered side, And with a soft twitter of drowsy content, In the quiet May moonlight to sleep they all went.