Barrytown is the river port of Red Hook—a charming Dutchess County hamlet in which The Boy spent the first summer of his life, and in which he spent the better part of every succeeding summer for a quarter of a century; and he sometimes goes there yet, although many of the names he knows were carved, in the long-agoes, on the tomb. He always went up and down, in those days, on the Mayflower, the real boat of that name, which was hardly more [p 45]
real to him than was the trundle-bed of his vivid, nightly imagination. They sailed from New York at five o’clock P.M., an hour looked for, and longed for, by The Boy, as the very beginning of summer, with all its delightful young charms; and they arrived at their destination about five of the clock the next morning, by which time The Boy was wide awake, and on the lookout for Lasher’s Stage, in which he was to travel the intervening three miles. And eagerly he recognized, and loved, every landmark on the road. Barringer’s Corner; the half-way tree; the road to the creek and to Madame Knox’s; and, at last, the village itself, and the tavern, and the tobacco-factory, and Massoneau’s store, over the way; and then, when Jane Purdy had shown him the new kittens and the little chickens, and he had talked to “Fido” and “Fanny,” or to Fido alone after Fanny was stolen by gypsies—Fanny was Fido’s wife, and a poodle—he rushed off to see Bob Hendricks, who was just his own age, barring a week, and who has been his warm friend for more than half a century; and then what good times The Boy had!
Bob was possessed of a grandfather who could make kites, and swings, and parallel-bars, and things which The Boy liked; and Bob had a mother—and he has her yet, happy Bob!—who made the most wonderful of cookies, perfectly round, with sparkling [p 46]
globules of sugar on them, and little round holes in the middle; and Bob and The Boy for days, and weeks, and months together hen’s-egged, and rode in the hay-carts, and went for the mail every noon, and boosted each other up into the best pound-sweet-tree in the neighborhood; and pelted each other with little green apples, which weighed about a pound to the peck; and gathered currants and chestnuts in season; and with long straws they sucked new cider out of bung-holes; and learned to swim; and caught their first fish; and did all the pleasant things that all boys do.
At Red Hook they smoked their first cigar—half a cigar, left by uncle Phil—and they wished they hadn’t! And at Red Hook they disobeyed their mothers once, and were found out. They were told not to go wading in the creek upon pain of not going to the creek at all; and for weeks they were deprived of the delights of the society of the Faure boys, through whose domain the creek ran, because, when they went to bed on that disastrous night, it was discovered that Bob had on The Boy’s stockings, and that The Boy was wearing Bob’s socks; a piece of circumstantial evidence which convicted them both. When the embargo was raised and they next went to the creek, it is remembered that Bob tore his trousers in climbing over a log, and that The Boy fell in altogether.
BOB HENDRICKS
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The Boy usually kept his promises, however, and he was known even to keep a candy-cane—twenty-eight inches long, red and white striped like a barber’s pole—for a fortnight, because his mother limited him to the consumption of two inches a day. But he could not keep any knees to his trousers; and when The Boy’s mother threatened to sew buttons—brass buttons, with sharp and penetrating eyes—on to that particular portion of the garment in question, he wanted to know, in all innocence, how they expected him to say his prayers!
One of Bob’s earliest recollections of The Boy is connected with a toy express-wagon on four wheels, which could almost turn around on its own axis. The Boy imported this vehicle into Red Hook one summer, and they used it for the transportation of their chestnuts and their currants and their apples, green and ripe, and the mail, and most of the dust of the road; and Bob thinks, to this day, that nothing in all these after years has given him so much profound satisfaction and enjoyment as did that little cart.
Bob remembers, too—what The Boy tries to forget—The Boy’s daily practice of half an hour on the piano borrowed by The Boy’s mother from Mrs. Bates for that dire purpose. Mrs. Bates’s piano is almost the only unpleasant thing associated with Red Hook in all The Boy’s experience of that happy village. It was pretty hard on The Boy, because, in [p 48]
The Boy’s mind, Red Hook should have been a place of unbroken delights. But The Boy’s mother wanted to make an all-round man of him, and when his mother said so, of course it had to be done or tried. Bob used to go with The Boy as far as Dr. Bates’s house, and then hang about on the gate until The Boy was released; and he asserts that the music which came out of the window in response to The Boy’s inharmonic touch had no power whatever to soothe his own savage young breast. He attributes all his later disinclination to music to those dreary thirty minutes of impatient waiting.
The piano and its effect upon The Boy’s uncertain temper may have been the innocent cause of the first, and only, approach to a quarrel which The Boy and Bob ever had. The prime cause, however, was, of course, a girl! They were playing, that afternoon, at Cholwell Knox’s, when Cholwell said something about Julia Booth which Bob resented, and there was a fight, The Boy taking Cholwell’s part; why, he cannot say, unless it was because of his jealousy of Bob’s affection and admiration for that charming young teacher, who won all hearts in the village, The Boy’s among the number. Anyway, Bob was driven from the field by the hard little green apples of the Knox orchard; more hurt, he declares, by the desertion of his ally than by all the blows he received.