LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2213, 30 March 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

STORY OF A SATURDAY. The place where we first mot our hero is a grass plat about twenty feet square, bordered on one side by a barn so weatherbeaten that it looks black, on another by the clothes-line, and on the third by a path. The fourth side was filled up by a pile of apple-tree wood. Upon a large limb, gnarled and twisted, and with dried leaves and the remains of what had once been p'.nktinted apple blossoms sat General Scott. A queer position for the renowned military individual did yon say ? Well this General was n little ten-year-old boy named Scott by his grandfather, an admirer of the original Winfield. The rest of the family had, by common consent, dubbed him. ‘'The General."

I said he was obnut ten years old, didn't I ? Yes. Well, imagine a boy that age, with black eyes, nut-brown complexion, ruddy checks, and white head closely cropped, after the manner of the day—to say nothing of State Prison convicts. So you have my hero, flis uniform was not much to speak of. It consisted of a blue checked shirt a pair of brown trousers worn to a light snuff color about the knees, and a hat which had little crown and Jess brim. The only things warlike in the surroundings were the little axe leaning against the chop-plng-stump, and the pair of red flannel underdrawers dangling from the clothes-line with a flag-of-deflance air. As for the General, at the time of whioh I he was deeply engaged in the sculabsorbing labor of taking a chip between his toes and laying it upon the oheppingblock, Several times he had tried this, but with no success. At last the grimy toes deposited the ohip upon the block, and the brown legs crossed themselves complacently. Their owner then drew f-om out of his packet a bit of maple sngar, which he began to mnnch with great gusto. Just then a voice from the neighboring white house called out ‘Scott. 1 ’ The maple sugar, now reduced to a mass of stickiness, was hastily tucked into one side of his mouth, and, in a voice exceedingly liquid, the General replied, ‘ Ma’am!’ ‘Have you split any of the wood yet?’ and the questioner, a small, slight woman, with snowy hair and gentle brown eyes, came down the path and paused by the chopping-block. * Why are yon not working ?’ continued the little woman, ‘ You’ve been out here a quarter of an hour, and not a blow have I heard you strike-'

The General’s black brows oontraotFd. * I don’t oare !’ he said, angrily. * I oan never get this hateful pile split—it’s no use trying !’ 1 Yon might have had it done long ago had you not played with the boys so much, ’ * Well, Jack Hazard and Billy MoEvey don’t have to split wood—not even kindling !’ ho said, in injured tones. ‘The wood is not hard to chop, and I think it much better for a boy to have a little employment than to idle away his time.’

* T’m sure I go to school, grandma!’ ‘Yes, but surely one hour’s work on Saturday will not injure you, and that is all the work you have to do that day,’ said the old lady, kindly. Then, as the General’s face still looked sullen, she continued—‘My dear, do you think you would be perfectly happy if you had a Saturday all to yourself ?’ ‘ Bather guess I would,’ he said, em phatically. 1 Then I will give you next Saturday, upon one condition—that, as you are to do nothing for any one, no one is to do anything for yon. Do you agree ?’ *Of coarse. Bat can I really do just what I want, and go where I pleose I’ * V es, provided yon do nothing absolutely rash.’

’ Goody ?’ and the General turned a somersault, and uttered a war-whoop that made his grandma's ears ring. The next Saturday dawned bright and clear. Bnt Scott didn’t rise very early. He lay a long time in bis little white bed, making plans for the day’s enjoyment.

1 Grandma said I might do just as I please, so I’m going to stay in bod as long as I want to. How jolly not to hear Hannah yell ont, “Scott, get up!’” After awhile, however, the gnawings of hunger began to bo felt, and be arose and dressed himself. ‘ We ’most always have muffins, ham and eggs on Saturday,’ ho said, as he went downstairs, smacking his lips in anticipation. Entering the dining-room, what was his surprise to find the breakfast things cleared away and the table covered with its customary Turkey-red spread. Going ont on the porch, he found hla grandmother sewing, ‘ Good morning,’ she said pleasantly. ‘ Good mornin’. Where’s breakfast, grandma ?’ ‘ Breakfast ? Oh, we had that long ago.’ ‘ But Is it all cleared away ?’

* I presume so. I heard Hannah washing the dishes a little while ago,’ quietly. * But can’t I have anything to eat ?’ in aggrieved tones, ‘Yes.’

* Then I’ll have Hannah fix me something on the kitchen table —no. I’ll have her bring it ont on the piazza ; it’ll be so much more pleasant,’ said the General, starting for the kitchen. Bat his grandmother called him back, saying : * No, you must remember that you’re not to ask any one to do anything for you to-day.’ The little lad looked crestfallen. * Well,’ he said, striving to speak unconcernedly. *O 1 that’s so. But then I can fix something for myself easy enough,’ and he departed for the kitchen, pondering the question as to what he should prepare for breakfast. Now, his great-grandmother was a French lady, and perhaps it was from her he inherited the taste for omelette. And on this particular morning he determined to regale himself with that dish. Bnt how to make it he didn’t know. He had always seen them come on the table light and flaky, and tinted a delicious golden brown. He studied the receipt book, and, when confident that he had mastered its mysteries, he marshalled the flour, eggs and milk, and proceeded to jumble them together in what he considered a very professional manner. He turned the yellow mass into the frying pan and waited the result. The fire was brisk, and pretty soon there was a suspicions smell of something bnrning. The General thought that perhaps he had better turn the omelette, and he endeavored to do this with the dextrous flop that Hannah always practised ; bnt, sad to say, the batter stuck to the iron, and the little boy found that ho bad made a grave mistake in not greasing the frying-pan befor he had poured the mixture into it. Part of the omelette was burned, part uncooked. and the General heard Hannah giggle as he dashed up the unsavory mess. He then proceeded to broil a piece of beefsteak. He had pounded it nicely, and had left it for a moment, while he attended to his coffee, which was boiling over, when suddenly Lady Jane Grey, the Maltese kitten, jumped up on the table and leaped out of the window—the piece of steak in her mouth.

‘ Mysterious monkey !’ cried the General angrily. He always said that when greatly excited. Fomehow it seemed to be an awful imprecation. Well, he toasted some bread, and with that, the coffee and “ oralette.” managed to make out a breakfast. Having finished, be grabbed his hat and was about to bound ont of the door, when Hanrah turned round, quietly saying—- ‘ Your grandma said that you was to clern up your breakfast things—cooking dishes, and all.’

Scott stood aghast. Tho numerous dishes with yellow batter di iod on, the frying-pan stuck full of bits of burned omelette, did, indeed, pro l .ent a formidable array. Nevertheless, puckering his lips together, he began to whistle “Captain Jinks,” and set sturdily to work at dish-washing. It was a whole hour before he started for tho woods.

Filly McEvoy, his school mate, accompanied him. Both boys were brim full of plana f or a day of delight. They were going to play *• Ingin.” This consisted of a wigwam of hemlock boughs, making a lire and roasting potatoes in the ashes. The most warlike feature of this savage life consisted in catching the little silvery minnows darting in the brook, or in firing stones at stray squirrels and chipmunks. A day thus spent was always one of much joy to Scott, but on this occasion he didn’t feel as utual. billy McEvoy wanted bis own way about everything, and they had one or two quarrels Then Scott burned his fingers when building

the fire, and, added to this, the hemlock wigwam tumbled down, and one of the sticks hurt bis head. Later, when they bad the fire nicely burning, and their dinner cozily cooking in the ashes, the sky suddenly clouded and the rain came pouting down. The boys had to rnn for the barn. Reaching it, they made plans for the afternoon’s enjoyment. Scott asked his grandpa to put up a swing. ‘No,’ s»id grandpa, ‘you’re the boy that can get along without favours from any one, so don’s bother me with your swings.’ They didn’t have much fun after that and pretty soon Mr MoKvoy’s hired man came over to take Billy home. In an hour the sun came out bright and clear. Grandma and grandpa started for a )ide over to the village, to buy their weekly groceries. Then General wanted to go along, for he had five centawith which to buy tire crackers; but he didn’t care to ask grandpa, for f- ar of getting another rebuff, rfo ho lolled around the house, wishing that he had some work to do, but ashameu to ask, He burst a button from off his trousers, and tried to etw it on. He made bnngling work of it, aad grandma smiled when she saw it sewed on with bine embroidery silk. Be cut his finger, and had to bind it up. He had to part his hair himself, and fina ly made up his mind that other folks beside himself were of use in the world. He was glad when night came, and ho could go to bed. As he took his lamp and started to leave the room, his grandma gave him a quizzical, yet kindly look from over her spectacles, saying: * Have yon had a pleasant day ?’ 1 Meanest day over was,’ quoth the General,

‘ Let no man live nnto himself,’ said grandma, and, kissing him tenderly, she bade him good-night. And now comes the strangest part of my story. Monday morning, when Hannah arose for her weekly washing, sho found her tub filled with fresh rain water. 1 Massey me I Who could have been so obligin’! she mattered. Then she added, in tones c; intense surprise, as she glanced out of the back door ; * And I do believe it’s the General ! And if he ain’t chopping away at that woodpile, too,’