‘ARTY! Arty!’ called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one bright June morning. ‘Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look at him, Mr. Mayflower!’
I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy—my first born—my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant rays of which threw a long shadow before him.
‘Arty, darling!’ His mother’s voice flew along and past his ear, kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was in eager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded. His eyes were opening world-ward, and every new phenomenon—commonplace and unheeded by us—that addressed itself to his senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object was drawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm.
‘Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!’ said my wife, with a touch of anxiety in her voice. ‘He might fall and hurt himself.’
I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case. Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, and making rapid approaches towards my truant boy.
‘What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?’ I said, as I laid my hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled a moment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on the ground…
I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy—my first born—my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant rays of which threw a long shadow before him.
‘Arty, darling!’ His mother’s voice flew along and past his ear, kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was in eager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded. His eyes were opening world-ward, and every new phenomenon—commonplace and unheeded by us—that addressed itself to his senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object was drawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm.
‘Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!’ said my wife, with a touch of anxiety in her voice. ‘He might fall and hurt himself.’
I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case. Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, and making rapid approaches towards my truant boy.
‘What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?’ I said, as I laid my hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled a moment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on the ground…
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About the author
Timothy Shay Arthur (June 6, 1809 – March 6, 1885) — known as T. S. Arthur — was a popular 19th-century American author. He is most famous for his temperance novel Ten Nights in a Bar-Room and What I Saw There (1854), which helped demonize alcohol in the eyes of the American public.He was also the author of dozens of stories for Godey’s Lady’s Book, the most popular American monthly magazine in the antebellum era, and he published and edited his own Arthur’s Home Magazine, a periodical in the Godey’s model, for many years. Virtually forgotten now, Arthur did much to articulate and disseminate the values, beliefs, and habits that defined respectable, decorous middle-class life in antebellum America.
Language English ● Format EPUB ● Pages 163 ● ISBN 9781537819341 ● File size 0.4 MB ● Publisher Jovian Press ● City Vachendorf ● Country DE ● Published 2017 ● Downloadable 24 months ● Currency EUR ● ID 5525519 ● Copy protection without
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