Samantha at Coney Island Part 2

"Isle of Happiness?" he sez, sort o' dreamy like. "That's right.

Serenus sez its everywhere, all over the place."

"What place?" sez I, suspicion darkenin' my foretop.

"Why, Coney Island," sez he, "that's the only Isle of Happiness I ever hearn tell on."

I gin him a look. "Would you compare Coney Island with the beautiful Isle of Happiness that the poets sing on?" I sez, severe like.

"Where is it?" sez he.

"Why," sez I, "It ain't ennywheres. Its a metafor of the brain."

"Is it ketchin'?" sez he. "Seems to me I've hearn tell of that disease before!" And then before I could gin him an indignant response, he stuck his fingers in his ears and sot there grinnin' like a jimpanzee all the time I wuz speakin' out my mind. But to resoom.

Anon a bridge would rise up its fairy arch and connect two islands together, each one holdin' a mansion that looked like a palace, and the bright awnin's of the winders, the pillars and pinnacles, and gay colors, reflected in the water makin' fairy palaces below as well as above, and made the hull seen as we journeyed on one of enchantment, that would made the grand Vizier of Bagdad turn green with envy. And every palace, mansion, and cottage had its pretty boat-house, with the water layin' there smooth and invitin' waitin' for the boats to be lanched on its bosom, actin' for all the world like a first cla.s.s family stream, warranted to carry safe and not kick and act in the harness. And then mebby the very next minute it would swell itself out agin, and be twenty or thirty milds acrost, rushin', hurryin', and dashin' itself along, hastenin' to the sea.

Actin' as if it had sunthin' dretful pressin' and important to tell it, and mebby it had. Who knows the language of the liquid waves as they whisper to each other on sunny beaches and at the meetin' of placid waters, makin' love to each other like as not--one tellin' the other of the sweet cow-slip and ferny medders it had to leave at the loud call of its love, the River. The River murmuring back deep words of worship and grat.i.tude at the feet of its newly arrived love.

And then mebby the comin' rivulet complains, moanin' kinder low and sorrowful, as it swashes up on sharp stuny beaches, for what it left behind. Meadows and orchards full of May's rosy blossoms, low gra.s.sy sh.o.r.es fringed with flowers and fresh, shinin' gra.s.ses. And white, dimpled baby feet mebby that waded out in its cool shallows. Pretty faces that bent over its sheltered pools, as in a lookin' gla.s.s, wavin' locks that scattered gold light down into the water, bright eyes that shone like stars above it. I shouldn't wonder a mite if it missed 'em and tried to say so in its gentle, pensive swish, swash, swish.

And then mebby the River resented it and kinder roared at it; mebby that is what it is sayin' in its louder and more voylent tones, upbraidin' it for lookin' back to its more single and lonesome career, when it now has _Him!_ _Him!_ Rush! Roar! Crush! Roar! Roar!

We can't tell what the river is talkin' about, in its calm gentle moods or its voylent ones. Who knows what the loud angry scream and screech of the deep waves say as the tempest and storm presses down on 'em and the Deep answers back in a voice of thunder, with its great heart beatin' and heavin' up and throbbin' in its mad pain and frenzy? Who knows what it is roarin' out, as it meets opposin' forces, wave and rock, and dashes aginst 'em--fightin' and dashin' and tryin'

to vanquish 'em like as not? Who can translate the voice of the waters? I can't, nor Josiah, nor n.o.body.

CHAPTER THREE

WE SEEK QUIET AND HAPPINESS IN THEIR BEAUTIFUL HANTS AND MINGLE WITH THE PLEASURE SEEKERS OF ALEXANDRIA BAY.

CHAPTER THREE

WE SEEK QUIET AND HAPPINESS IN THEIR BEAUTIFUL HANTS AND MINGLE WITH THE PLEASURE SEEKERS OF ALEXANDRIA BAY

Sometimes we would sail through the green water, so clost to the sh.o.r.e we could almost pick off some of the cedar and pine boughs as we went past, and we could look off into the green and sunny aisles of the trees into beautiful solitude and quiet. And we'd want to foller Quiet and Happiness back into them beautiful hants. And then agin, we'd float by an island where there would be lots of white tents, with wimmen and children and men and boys standin' out wavin' their handkerchiefs and shoutin' to us, good natered and sociable.

And agin we'd go by a kinder high island with a tall, n.o.ble mansion standin' up on it with towers and balconies, and winders all ornamented off, and flags a-flyin'. And every house and every tentin'

ground had their own little wharfs runnin' down into the water and boats. .h.i.tched to 'em, jest as we'd hitch the old mair and colt to a hitchin' post. And most of 'em had picturesque boat-houses painted up like the houses.

And all of these pretty houses and towers and flags and boats and everything wuz reflected down into the water, so there wuz handsome pictures above, and still more extremely beautiful ones below. For the sunlight shadow pictures wuz more beautiful fur than the reality, as is often the case. Every little sail-boat and canoe had its white shadder floatin' along by it, shinin' out from the blue and sea-green surface of the water.

Josiah wuz turrible interested in tryin' to see if the reflections wuz exactly like the real seen up above, and he kept leanin' over the edge of the boat tryin' to turn his head upside down so's to git a better look, and at last he nearly fell overboard into the water only I grabbed him quick.

Sometimes,--I don't know what made it,--there would be long lines of light in different colors layin' on the water; long waveless furrows of palest amethyst, lilock, pale rose-color, and pearl, soft green and blue, way off and near to, wide and long and changin' all the time.

Why, some of the time it would seem as if the surface of the river wuz a shinin' pavement made of them glowin' and l.u.s.trous colors, that you might walk out on. And then agin, cold Reality would say to you that if you tried it, you'd most probable git drownded.

Anon we went by a island with a house standin' on it, the hull thing seemin'ly nothin' but house right in the strongest current of the river, and on the end of the island wuz a wheel fixed that run all the machinery of the house, lightin' it, and pumpin' water, and runnin'

the coffee mill and sewin' machine, and rockin' the cradle, for all I know.

The river waitin' on 'em, and doin' it cheerful. A soarin' soul of power and might, so strong that a wink from its old eye-lids could swallow up a fleet of ships, and a flirt of its fingers overthrow a army of strongest men and toss 'em about like leaves on an autumn gale. To see such a powerful, n.o.ble body, that wuz used to doin' the biggest kind of jobs, quietly bucklin' down pumpin' water to supply a tea-kettle, and churn a little b.u.t.ter, mebby!

Why, thinks I, what a lesson to hired girls that is, they're always so fraid of doin' a little more than it is their place to do. They're so fraid of settin' back a chair, if it is their place to cook, and so afraid of bilin' a egg if it is their place to slick up the house.

Why, it wuz a lesson in morals to see that big grand river crumplin'

down to do housework for a spell.

Frontenac Island used to be called Round Island, I guess because it wuz kinder square in shape. It is a handsome place with a immense hotel[A] settin' back most a quarter of a mild, and jined by a long railed balcony with another, makin' room enough, it seemed to me, for an army. The broad, handsome path leadin' up to it wuz bordered with beautiful flowers and shrubs, lookin' lovely against the vivid green of the lawn.

I liked the name Frontenac first rate, and Point Vivian, and the name of the hotel on St. Lawrence Park, Lotus, seemed highly appropriate for the idle hours of rest and pleasure in the balmy summer-time.

And that park, while it could pa.s.s itself off for an island, wuz really the main land. And if you wanted a doctor on a dark, stormy night, you could get one without going on the wild waves; and if you got skairt in the night and sot off to run, you could run as fur as you wanted to without gittin' drownded.

I spoke to Josiah about this and he agreed with me, though he took the occasion to bring in Coney Island, much to my s.h.a.grin.

"I wish," sez he, "I wish we could stop off somewheres and git a hot dog."

"A hot dog?" sez I, consternation showin' in my foretop. "Don't you know that dogs roamin' round loose and overhet in this sultry weather is apt to git mad and bite you?"

"'Tain't that kind of animile I mean. I mean the kind they eat--in Coney Island."

"Do they eat dogs in Coney Island?" I asks in a faint voice.

"Yes," sez he.

"And would you eat enny on't?"

"Why not?" sez he.

"Why not?" I cries regainin' my voice to once. "Josiah Allen, have you became a canibal like them as lives in heathen lands and welcomes civilized folks with open mouths?"

"Oh," sez he, "'tain't nothin' like that. These dogs hain't made o'

people. No, they air made from sa.s.siges and cooked in front of a open grate fire. They call 'em hot dogs and Serenus sez--"

I didn't gin him no chance to tell what Serenus sez. I sez many things to him there and then that wuz calculated to make him forgit Coney Island for awhile.

But to resoom forwards. We went by a big castle that wuz built up on a hill on a island of considerable size with quite a grove of trees on it. It wuz a n.o.ble, gray stun castle, with high towers and pinnacles shinin' up toward the blue sky--Castle Rest, its name wuz, and I thought most probable anybody could rest there first rate. The one that built it and the one it wuz built for, had gone up into another castle to rest, the great Castle of Rest, whose walls can't be moved by any earthly shock. A good little mother it wuz built for, a hard-workin', patient, tired-out little mother, who wuz left with a house full of boys, and not much in the house, only boys. How she worked and toiled to keep 'em comfortable and git 'em headed right, washin', cookin', makin', and mendin'; learnin' 'em truthfulness, honesty, and industry with their letters; teachin' 'em the multiplication table and the commandments; trimmin' off their childish faults, same as she did their hair; clippin' 'em off with her own anxious lovin' hands. Mebby puttin' a bowl on their heads and cuttin'

round it, or else shinglin' 'em. But 'tennyrate doin' her best for them, soul and body, till she got 'em headed right. Some on 'em givin'

their hull lives to help men's souls, lovin' this old world mebby for their ma's sake, because it held so many other good wimmen; for they jest about worshipped her all on 'em. And one of her boys, while the rest of 'em wuz helpin' men and wimmen to build up better lives, he wuz buildin' up his creed of helpfulness and improvement in bricks and mortar, tryin' to do good, there hain't a doubt on't.

Mebby them walls didn't stand so firm as the others did, and tottled more now and then. Strange, hain't it, that solid bricks and stuns, that you feel and see, are less endurin' and firm than the things you can't see--changed lives, faith, hope, charity, love to G.o.d, good-will to man, and that whiter ideals and loftier aims and desires may tower up higher than any chimbly that ever belched out smoke.

Curious it is so, but so it is. But 'tennyrate this one son rode on his sleepin' cars right into millions, and his first thought wuz how he could please best the little Mother. So he built a castle for her.

Tired little feet, walkin' the round of humble duties, waitin' on her small boys, did they ever expect to tread the walls of a castle? Her own too. I'll bet it seemed dretful big to her, or would anyway if it hadn't been so full, so runnin' over full of the love and thoughtfulness of all of her boys--and Love will fill and glorify cottage or castle.