Whistler; or, The Manly Boy

by Walter Aimwell

“Postponed his supper on account of the weather, eh? He must be a very fastidious fellow,” added Mr. Davenport.

“Or, perhaps he was afraid he should wear his welcome out, if he went to the same place two nights in succession,” suggested Whistler.

“I shan’t give him up yet; I mean to keep the trap set till I go to Boston,” said Clinton.

The storm, which set in soon after the boys had fixed the trap, continued, with but slight intervals, for nearly two days. It was quite severe, obliging all the family to keep indoors during its continuance. Clinton and Whistler found a very pleasant, and not altogether unprofitable amusement, during this protracted storm, in constructing a “dissected map” of the United States, which they designed as a present to Whistler’s little sister, Ettie. Whistler, who had been taught to draw maps at school, made a handsome copy of the map of the United States, on a single sheet of paper. The first draft included only the boundaries of the states and territories, the principal rivers, chains of mountains, lakes, &c. He then cut apart, with the scissors, the several states and territories. Clinton, who had been preparing a number of thin blocks of wood, of a uniform height, now cut them out into the exact shape of these various sections of the map; and, meanwhile, Whistler was engaged in finishing up each state by itself, inserting the principal towns, coloring the surface, and, finally, pasting the several sections upon the blocks which Clinton had made ready. Clinton also made a neat little box in which to keep it. The whole affair was very well done; and the boys found that the putting of the little blocks properly together, afforded an interesting and instructive amusement, even to them, familiar as they were with the geography of the country. To Annie, who knew little of this study, the game was even more curious and puzzling.

The storm at length passed away, but only two or three more days remained for Whistler to spend in Brookdale; and, as Clinton was to accompany him home, a good share of their time was occupied in preparing for the journey, and in talking over their plans. The trap was inspected early each morning, but it remained undisturbed; and, although several times freshly baited, not so much as the track of a creature was to be seen around it. Clinton at length lost his faith in its virtues, and returned it to Mr. Preston, the afternoon before he left for Boston.

Whistler was hardly aware how much he had become attached to his uncle’s family, until the hour of separation came. Then the old farm-house seemed suddenly invested with a new beauty, and he felt himself drawn towards its inmates by a stronger cord than ever before. There was but little time, however, for farewells or last words of counsel. The travellers were obliged to be on their way soon after sunrise, and Mr. Davenport had the horse punctually at the door, to take them over to the Cross Roads. A few hasty good-bys, a lingering look behind, and their long journey was commenced. They stopped at Mr. Preston’s, and took Ella into their wagon, as she also was going home.

The stage coach came along soon after they reached the Cross Roads, and the three young passengers took their seats within it. For about five hours they were jolted along over rough roads, and steep hills, and log bridges, occasionally passing through pretty villages, or among thrifty farms; but much of the time hemmed in by forests on either side, or surrounded by miles of wild land, from which the timber had been removed. They all were wise enough to take some luncheon with them, and they found a good use for it by the time they reached the end of the stage route.

After purchasing their tickets for Boston, the young travellers found that they had nearly half an hour to spare before the cars would start. Clinton, who had never traveled on a railroad but once before, and had never seen a locomotive except on that occasion, proposed to go and see the machine, which was then receiving its wood and water just outside of the station house. Before going, however, they picked out their seats in the train, and left them and their valises in charge of Ella. The boys then spent some time in looking at the engine, and watching the movements of those who had it in charge. After the wood-box and water-tank of the tender were filled, the machine was backed to its place at the head of the train. One of the men now jumped off, and the other began to oil some of the joints and bearings of the engine.

Although a locomotive was something of a curiosity to Clinton, it was soon evident that he knew more about it than many boys of his age, to whom a railroad train is an every-day sight. His mechanical taste had led him to read whatever he could find about steam engines, and, by the help of his father, he had acquired a pretty accurate idea of the principles involved in their construction. He was thus able to name and explain the action of parts of the locomotive of which even Willie had no definite notion.

The train was fast filling up, and the boys now took their seats. The signal to start was soon given, the engine gave a jerk and a rapid succession of puffs, and the cars began to glide over their iron course. The views from the car windows now took up the attention of Ella and the boys. The solemn forest and the bustling village,—the thrifty farm and the wild and rocky pasture,—the rough old hills and the narrow, winding valley,—the quiet river and the noisy mills upon its banks,—these were the scenes that passed before them in a rapid panorama.