Neighbor Nelly Socks / Being the Sixth and Last Book of the Series

by Sarah L. Barrow

POSTSCRIPT TO THE THREE STORIES.

BY THE OLD BACHELOR.

When I had finished copying out the stories of the Big Boy and the Fat Gentleman last summer, the thought struck me that, as I had been in town all the warm bright June weather, it would do my health a great deal of good to take a trip to Long Branch. Of course, it was not to see Neighbor Nelly—certainly not.

So, the very next Saturday afternoon I dusted up my valise, and put some nice cool summer clothes in it, and a great paper of candy, which I meant for my little neighbors, in case I should see them by accident! Somebody had told me that the Mansion House was the best hotel to stop at. Shall I tell you why? Because there was a party there, of a papa and mamma, a dear little girl and boy, and a remarkably nice little toy terrier, which would put me in mind very much of some friends of mine called Lawson. In fact, this family was called Lawson, too, and the younger members were christened Nelly and Jimmy! Comical, wasn't it?

If you have never been to Long Branch, you can't think what a pleasant sail it is down the Bay in the "Thomas Collyer," and how much I enjoyed my trip. The pleasant shores of Long and Staten Islands (I used to live on Staten Island, and had some comical times there, which I mean to write out one of these days) looked as verdant and beautiful as ever; the sea was as blue as a bluebottle fly, and the sun as light as a cork! As I looked at the great, rolling waves, I laughed to myself, thinking what nice times we were going to have in bathing; ducking under them, when they came roaring along the shore after us, as if they meant to gobble us up, and bouncing out again when they had passed, all dripping and laughing, and ready for the next one to play the same trick on us. Sometimes, to be sure, the waves play too rough, and knock you off your feet without "by your leave;" or a little crab will walk up and bite your toes, just by way of welcoming you to Long Branch; but nobody minds it. Bless you!—that only makes it more fun to go in bathing!

Well, the boat stopped at the pier, which extends a quarter of a mile from the shore, putting one in mind of a long crab's claw stuck out for "shake hands" by old Neptune; and I jumped into the cars and was bounced and rattled along to Long Branch. As it was Saturday afternoon, a great crowd of people were going there with me, and, deary me! when I came to the Mansion House, there wasn't any room left for me! Wasn't it too bad? Just when I had fixed to have such a nice time with my dear little friends! It would never do to go away, however, so I said: "Well, never mind, Mr. Mansion House—that is, Mr. Neighbor Nelly—dear me!—Mr. Laird, I can do without a room; and at night you can put me to sleep in the pigeon house, or the hen coop, or under the counter of the office, or up the chimney, I don't care which; but go away I can't!"

Now, I expect, Mr. Laird must have known I had come to see Neighbor Nelly, and what a disappointment it would be not to get in; for after a consultation with his bookkeeper, he told me he could give me a room after all! and I was so glad, that I offered him my snuff box immediately, which is a favor I only grant to very nice people!

So up stairs I hurried, to get ready for tea, in high good humor, and, would you believe it, when I came down again, whose table should I be put to sit at, but Neighbor Nelly's? Oh, how surprised and pleased she was to see me! and Jimmy and his father and mother were just as glad. There was famous "clam chowder" for tea, and such great big blackberries, that we really had to make two bites of them! not to mention the quantities of other good things; and after tea we strolled out on the bluff, which overlooks the ocean. There are three pretty little summer houses before the Mansion House, and in one of these we took our seats. Gipsey had come scampering up to me in delighted recognition as we left the dining room, barking and wagging his tail, until I should think both his tail and his bark would have been quite out of joint.

"Oh, Neighbor Oldbird, I'm so glad you have come," began Nelly, eagerly; "we have been having such fun, and, now you are here, it will be nicer than ever."

"Do you and Jimmy go in bathing?" I asked.

"I guess we do!" cried Jimmy. "We rush into the water first of anybody, and go out real deep, when we have hold of the ropes. Some great big boys are as afraid as anything! But we like to have the waves go over our heads."

"Talking about big boys," said I, looking wonderfully sly, "I made the acquaintance of a big boy in our street, not long ago, who knows a certain little lady very well; and likes her very well, too!"

"Oh, I know!" chimed both the children; "it's Tom Halstead. Isn't it?"

"Yes; he told me something funny about you, too; I did not know you could wash windows before, Neighbor Nelly."

My little neighbor laughed and blushed comically when I said that, and then Jimmy said:

"He's a first rate fellow, I tell you. He sent us a letter the other day, and what do you think? he's coming here!"

"Coming here!" I exclaimed; "my stars! I shall be quite thrown in the shade when such a nice friend makes his appearance. I think I shall have to go home again Monday, and I did mean to stay till Wednesday," and I made up a dismal face, and pretended to be quite heart-broken.

"No, indeed, Neighbor Oldbird! we shall always like you the best!" cried Nelly, catching both my hands in hers. "He is a very nice boy, to be sure, but we like you just as much as if you were our bachelor uncle."

"Then I move to be called Uncle Josiah directly!" I said, laughing; "so, my dear niece and nephew, don't you think it would be a good plan for us to go down on that nice yellow sand there, and look at the waves?"

The children were delighted with this plan, so we all three walked to the steep wooden steps that lead from the bluff to the beach below, and were soon on the sands. Gipsey came racing after as usual, and in his haste to join us, ran so fast down the steps, that he couldn't stop himself, but had to bring up on the sand past the water mark, looking comically astonished. To put a finishing touch to his misfortunes, a great big wave came tumbling in just then, and over poor Gipsey it went! sousing him head and ears! It frightened him so much that he rushed dripping wet to Neighbor Nelly, and jumped into her lap, squealing dismally. Such a perfect shower-bath of cold salt water as rained all over her pretty muslin dress, and trim little gaiters and stockings! We had to shake her well, and put Gipsey to bed on a sandhill near us, where he went to sleep, and, I hope, forgot his miseries.

Perhaps you don't know it, but the sand is a famous place to write your name. You go as near the retreating wave as you dare, and then, with a walking stick or an umbrella, or your finger, if nothing better is to be had, write your name, or draw a hideous spook on the wet sand. You have to be quick about it, too; for just as you are putting the finishing touches to the work, another great billow is sure to come tearing at you, with a wide, deep hollow of emerald green, and foaming crest, looking like molten silver in the moonlight. Crash! it falls on the beach; and a long rush of foam slides up the sand as you scamper out of reach, not always without a wet shoe or two. Now the water has all run back, but where is the writing? The sand is smooth once more, and ready, like a great blackboard, to be marked on anew. So the sea is always clearing your writing book for you, and giving you a chance to begin again and see how long it will last!

I should think we wrote "Nelly," "Jimmy," and "Neighbor Oldbird," about fifty times each on the sand, with my walking stick; and then we "hung Jeff. Davis on a sour apple tree," and depicted him with Old Spookey coming after him, and told the Atlantic Ocean, "We like blue fish," and "We're going in bathing Monday," and never succeeded in keeping one of our achievements more than half a minute.

We stayed down on the delightful beach until nearly half-past nine; and, dear me, what a heap of sand we got in our shoes! It was quite wonderful how it contrived to work its way in; but there it was, making us lift up our feet as heavily as though we had cannon balls tied to our ankles.

But it was getting late, and high time for small people to be off to bed; so, with a shake of the hand from one of my little neighbors, and a "good kiss" from the other, I don't say which, Gipsey was waked up, and they all trotted off together.

Next morning was Sunday, and a beautiful sunshiny day. The first thing I did when I woke up, was to pop my head out of the window and take a look at the ocean. There it was, as beautiful as ever, and now I found out a funny thing about Long Branch that I hadn't noticed the evening before. "Why," said I, "is it possible I am in the country? Where are the trees?" They were nowhere to be seen, not so much as a bush; while the flowers were represented by everybody's bathing dresses hanging over all the fences, and on ever so many clothes-lines besides, to dry. The fact is, that the Atlantic Ocean is determined to let nothing be admired but itself; so it will not permit a tree to grow any nearer its shores than half a mile. So all the foliage there consists of the direful old bathing dresses, flapping in the wind and looking like so many scarecrows put up to frighten off the fishhawks.

In the morning we went to the cunning little Episcopal church, and listened to the earnest teachings of the noble young rector, who is working so bravely in his Master's cause with such poor earthly reward. That he is laying up treasure where "neither moth nor rust doth corrupt," we cannot but believe. We did not like to leave the quiet little church for the great noisy hotels, in one of which, as we passed it, they were playing billiards. Oh! what an occupation for God's holy day! I cannot believe they were Christians who were playing, but I know I wanted to go and beg them to stop.

In the afternoon it clouded up, and began to rain very hard; so we could not go to church, and as it was very little like Sunday in the crowded hall and parlor, Mrs. Lawson proposed we should all come and sit in her room, which opened on one of the upper piazzas. So we established ourselves here, where it was quiet and cool, very glad to escape from the bustle down stairs.

"Suppose you were to repeat that pretty German hymn I gave you the other day," said her mother to Nelly. "Perhaps Mr. Oldbird would like to hear it."

"Yes, that I should," I said; so Nelly began the beautiful verses called—

"ALL THERE."

"Nothing is lost; the treasures which the ocean
Hath taken to itself in ages fled,
The lives that rest beneath its ceaseless motion
Until 'the sea shall render up its dead:'
"The dew drops that the warm bright sunshine drieth,
The cloud that melts away in summer air,
The bud that lifteth its sweet head—and dieth,
They are not lost—God keeps them in his care.
"Nothing is lost; the anguish of the mourner,
And bitter tears that fall like solemn rain,
Are safely stored within the heavenly garner,
Till Christ shall come unto his own again.
"And our beloved ones that Death doth gather
To their calm, dreamless sleep beneath the tomb,
Like tender flowers, are cherished by the Father
In the celestial fields of Heaven to bloom.
"Nothing is lost; oh, let the promise cheer us;
By God himself to weary mortals given;
Our darling ones shall soon again be near us,
Our hopes shall bloom, unfadingly, in Heaven."

"I think that is the best hymn I know," added Nelly, when she had finished. "Now, what shall we do?"

"Let's play church!" suggested Jimmy.

"Oh yes! that's the very thing!" said Nelly. "Suppose we ask Kitty and Robby Morris to come in."

So Kitty and Robby were found, and consented to join the play, which straightway began; mamma and I looking on, though we made believe not to be taking notice, for fear of disturbing the little visitors.

Robby, who was a dear little fellow, only five years old, with long golden curls and great blue eyes, was the minister, at his own special request. The children dressed him in a long white sack of Mrs. Lawson's by way of a gown, and gave him a small table for a pulpit. The others, with Gipsey, and a large gray cat, the property of Robby and Kitty, which marched in after them, were the congregation, sitting on the edge of the bed, to be like the long church pew. The minister took for his text, "Little children, love one another," and his sermon was such a dear, funny little discourse, that I must write it down for you.

"Now, my dear peoples," he said, "I hope, whenever you feel like karrelling,[A] or being as cross as bears, you will 'member what the Bible says 'bout loving one another. Gipsey fighted my tat to-day, and pulled some of her fur out; but he's only a dog, and I readed in my Dr. Watts—

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God has made 'em so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too.
But, children, you s'ould never let
Your angry pass'ons rise!
Your little hands were never made
To sc'atch each other's eyes."

——so I was not mad at him, 'cause he didn't know he ought to love pussy.

"I s'apped nurse the other day, 'cause she made me come out of the water before I wanted to, and that was very naughty; I begged her pardon, though, and gave her a piece of my tandy, that papa had brought me. Now, my dear peoples, I think that is long enough. S'pose we sing, 'I want to be an angel.'"

PLAYING CHURCH.

Wasn't that a cunning little sermon? It put me in mind of how I used to play church in my childhood, long ago; when my young brother, dear little Davy, would stand on a chair, while I sat on my stool at his feet, and preach a sermon something like Robby's. Darling Davy! I fancied I could see his sweet face and earnest eyes looking down at me, from his happy home in heaven that Sunday afternoon; for he closed those dark eyes on this weary earth many long years since, and I never think of him now but as standing on the chair in our father's study (with, perhaps, mother looking in, unknown to him), and preaching from some simple text that we knew and loved, in quaint, yet childish words. Ah, well! perhaps it was better so, than that he should have lived to be a gray-headed old bachelor like "brother Jose!"

So the children all sang the hymn, and that was the end of church. We passed the rest of the afternoon telling Bible stories, and repeating hymns, and after tea it was clear once more, and dry enough to go out on the bluff.

You may be sure, we were all in famous spirits Monday morning, and ready for any sort of a frolic. Who could help being good humored with such company as my little neighbors? Mr. Lawson left us in the first train for the city; but, to make up, who should have come down in the early morning boat, but Tom Halstead and Miss Elsie Bluejay—or Brandlaw, I ought to say, since I know her name now; and they drove straight up to the Mansion House, of course—who wouldn't, when Neighbor Nelly was there? The children received Tom with shouts of joy; and he looked so handsome and happy, and his great black eyes sparkled so with good humor and fun, that I felt quite ready to admit him into my circle of little people that I knew and loved. Neighbor Nelly and he were an admirable contrast in point of appearance, and I shouldn't be surprised if the last remark made to me in strict confidence, by my friend Tom in his account of her, should come true some day.

I wish I could sketch a little picture of our party as we clustered together on the piazza, to show what manner of people we were then; and another, of our appearance in the water afterward. Ten o'clock was the hour for bathing that morning; so we each armed ourselves with our bathing clothes and a prodigious towel, like the main sail of a fishing smack, and rushed down to the beach; that is, the younger members; Aunt Elsie, Mrs. Lawson, and I walked soberly along. Then we popped into separate bathing houses, still looking like respectable and responsible members of society, and popped out five minutes afterward—scarecrows! spooks! animated rag-bags! with the last vestige of our gentility and good looks departed.

Aunt Elsie had taken leave of a most beautiful brown "front" and fourteen luxuriant curls, the absence of which gave her an appearance very like a staid bald-headed owl; particularly as she would keep on her very round spectacles, and wore a pair of extremely long-fingered green cotton gloves. The long ends of the glove fingers, waving about in the water, were not unlike the owl's claws; while her gray woollen bathing dress might have passed for a new sort of flannel feathers. A mortified blue sunbonnet, with all the canes out, was perched lop-sided on her head, and she wore a pair of bathing shoes, like brown poultices. The rest of us were just as bad, though; I was an ogre in green flannel, Tom and Jimmy monkeys in red, Mrs. Lawson tolerably lady-like in blue, with white tape trimmings, and Neighbor Nelly a ridiculous little old jumping Jenny in white, with gorgeous red facings; and all in hats that defied our best friends to know us in.

How we laughed at each other, and then made haste over the sand, which was so hot that it nearly scorched our feet, and plumped into the nice cool ocean, where ever so many other frights were already hopping about.

Now for a rush into the deep water! here comes a big wave! down, down now! and over our heads it went! dousing us as it had Gipsey the Saturday night, only we didn't squeal.

Presently, some people who had come from the next hotel, began dancing the "Lancers" in the water, ducking under instead of bowing, and seeming to have such a good time, that nothing would suit the children but that they must begin dancing, too; in consequence of which a wave twice as high as usual came roaring up, and carried Neighbor Nelly right off her feet. Under the water she went, and for an instant we were quite frightened; but presently up she popped laughing, and trying to squeeze the salt water out of her eyes.

However, that put a stop to the dancing; and here let me tell you, that surf bathing is always a pretty venturesome thing to attempt, unless you grasp the ropes firmly, or have hold of some older and stronger person's hand.

There was one gentleman flourishing about near us, who seemed bent upon trying how many odd things he could do in the water. Presently we saw him going down head first, and then his feet coming up in the air like a duck's! It looked so comical to see any one besides a duck standing upside down in the water, that we all burst out laughing, and just then along came another billow, and treated us each to a mouthful of salt water!

By this time we had been in long enough for one day, for you should always remember to come out before you feel chilled, and so we waded to the shore, looking more outlandish than ever, now the bathing dresses were all soaked, and hurried into the houses to get dry and dressed.

Surf bathing is a famous thing to give you an appetite; and I don't wonder Mr. Laird provides so bountiful and well cooked a dinner, when I think of the famishing five hundred people that were to be fed the day I was there, and every day beside. The "Charge of the Light Brigade" was nothing to the charge we made upon the dishes; and as the dining room is sensibly arranged with tables accommodating about a dozen people each, we all sat together; and had such a merry time that two or three cross old dames looked sharply at our party, very curious to know what all the laughing was about. Our small friend Gipsey was the cause of it, partly, for he posted himself beside each of our chairs in turn, and made such surprising and despairing hops and skips after bits of chicken held up beyond his reach, that he very nearly turned a somerset each time.

We rewarded his patience at last by giving him some bones, which he crunched under the table with perfect satisfaction, while we were discussing the ice cream and other good things.

In the afternoon I was sitting reading the paper on the upper piazza, and the children were amusing themselves in their own fashion near me. Nelly, with another little girl, whose name seemed to be "Baby," for they never called her anything else, were manufacturing a resplendent doll's dress for a waxen angel in a white spencer—or whatever those muslin concerns are called, which the ladies wear with colored skirts nowadays, and a black velvet pointed belt; while the boys, with their arms fraternally entwined, were interchanging confidences on the important subjects of "My peg top," "Don't you think thirty-eight cents is a tremendous price for kites?" "How many glass agates have you got?" and so on—when Tom, looking very mischievous, suddenly lifted up dolly by the toe of her shoe, and asked, "Why, Nelly, what's the matter with this doll; has she got the spinal complaint?"

"No, you goose," said Nelly, laughing. "What makes you ask that?"

"Because she has on a supporter," said Tom, with perfect gravity, pointing to the velvet belt. "Poor thing! why don't you take her in bathing? It would do her health good, I'm sure; she looks fearfully pale."

"Ah, make him put her down, Nelly," said Baby; "he'll break her if he goes on so;" for Tom was now amusing himself by balancing dolly on her head in his hand, making a great display of embroidered trowsers and hoop petticoats; and now, catching her by both hands, he suddenly swung her over the railing. "This is the way she ought to be ducked under the waves!" he added. Nelly sprang forward at the same moment with an "Oh, Tom! please!" and caught his arm rather suddenly. His hold relaxed at the same moment, and crash! down tumbled poor dolly on the ground below, breaking one of her wax arms completely off, and making a fearful cavity in her forehead, which killed her completely! that is, I should think so. I never heard of any one who survived fracture of the skull. Did you?

Poor Nelly! She tried hard not to mind it; but dolly's head was one too many for her, and the tears came rolling quickly down her cheeks as she gazed at the unfortunate waxen damsel below, with quivering lip. Tom turned red and white alternately in silence for a moment, and then began pouring forth apologies and regrets. He called himself all the imps that ever were heard of for being so careless; he offered to go to New York that very day to buy another doll, and have his hair well pulled beside, if she only would forgive him, and say she didn't think he had done it on purpose; and, in short, we had quite a little scene; when, fortunately, there occurred to me a pleasant means of diverting the minds of the party from the accident that had happened. So I laid down my paper, as though I had not been listening, and said:

"Well, little people, I believe I have discovered all the news there is; so what do you say to coming to a party I am thinking of giving in my room?"

"A party!" cried the children, dropping the subject of the doll to look at me; "why, we should like that very much. What sort of a party is it?"

"A reading party," I answered. "I have some papers I have been thinking of reading to you, to get your opinion of them before I put them in a book; and I shouldn't be surprised if there was a paper of candy in my drawer besides."

"Why, do you write books?" asked Baby, opening her bright eyes very wide indeed, as if to be certain what a real live author looked like.

"To be sure I do," I said, laughing. "Funny stories, and sad ones, too; and some that are every word of them true, and others that are told me by my friends; and you shall tell me whether they are true or not."

So we all made haste into my room—not the same I had when I first came, but one on the front piazza, near Neighbor Nelly's. The papers I meant were my own, Tom's, and the Fat Gentleman's stories, which I had brought down with me, to look over and correct. The candy I had bought for Nelly and Jimmy, as I told you, and forgotten all about to that moment. Little Robby came trotting along just then, so we asked him to be of the party; and Mrs. Lawson, looking out to see why we were in such a bustle, made up the company.

I wish you could have been at Our Party that afternoon. We made a cosey little group, I assure you. Mrs. Lawson sat by the table with her sewing; Tom established himself close to my chair, and Nelly nestled by my other side. Baby and Jimmy sat on hassocks, contrived from carpet bags, at my feet; dear little Robby was lifted to my knee, and the reading began. Oh, the laughter, and comical wonder, and blushes, when my little neighbors found the stories were about them! Nelly burst out with "Oh, Neighbor Oldbird!" and hid her face on my shoulder every time there was some special praise of herself. Tom turned perfectly crimson when we came to his story, and was in and out of his seat twenty times, begging me to stop, during its progress, his splendid black eyes glancing appealingly at me and Nelly by turns. I wouldn't spare him a single word, however; and when I came to his declaration at the end, concerning Nelly, there was a general shout of laughter.

"There's an eligible offer for you, Miss Nell," I said solemnly. "You'd better take it into consideration!" and so on, until Mrs. Lawson begged me to stop. She did not like to have ideas about marriage put into the children's heads; and I, when I reflected, was very sorry I had been so thoughtless. Tom bore my teasing manfully; but Nelly's face was rather grave, as if she did not like such remarks to be made about her; so I hurried on to the Fat Gentleman's story, and brought up at the end, and then handed round the candy, amid general approbation.

How we all passed that evening together on the beach, and had a wildly happy time; how we went in bathing the next day, and the next; and how, on Wednesday afternoon, I bid a most reluctant good-by to my little neighbors, I have not room to tell. I want to write how gladly we met again in the city in the fall; how Tom did come to live in New York, and favored us with his company as often as possible; how we chanced again on the little girl whom we had met in the toy shop, and found her living in a wretched tenement house in Cherry street, whence Mr. Lawson and I, with some other friends, removed them in haste, and established them in a nice little thread-needle store on one of the business avenues not far from our street; but all this would take too long.

I must say, though, what a blessed change it has been for them, particularly for poor little crippled Clara, who never fails to greet us with a smile when we go there to see her, as she sits in her comfortable arm-chair by the window, with her pet spaniel "Dandy" beside her. She is always contented and cheerful, in spite of the sharp pain that often racks her slender limbs; and as I look on her pale face, which is so plainly not long for this earth, and think that now her suffering life will end amid comfort and peace, I whisper to myself with a heart full of love, "All this through thy sweet influence, dear

"Neighbor Nelly!"