Over the Rocky Mountains: Wandering Will in the Land of the Redskin

“Yes, Jemimar, I never had two opinions about it, they’re the beautifulest an’ sweetest children I ever did ’ave had to do with—just as Master Will, their papa, was simularly so; but I’m free to confess that they all has a surprisin’ sperrit. There’s Master William, now (I can’t abear to call him Will, because that was the name as ’is father went by, and I ’old that in a sense it is sacred), there’s Master William, though ’e’s only jist out o’ frocks an’ frilled trousers, and noo into blue tights an’ brass buttons, there ’e is, goin’ about the country on a pony as isn’t much bigger than a Noofoundland dog, but goes over the ’edges an ditches in a way as makes my blood to curdle an’ my skin to creep, with that dear boy on ’is back and ’is tail flyin be’ind, an’ shoutin’ with a sort of wild delight that I do think is wicked—I do indeed, Jemimar, I give you my word I think it sinful, though, of course, ’e dont mean it so, poor child, and ’is father cheerin’ ’im on in a way that must sear ’is conscience wuss than a red ’ot iron, w’ich ’is mother echoes too! it is quite past my compre’ension. Then ’e comes ’ome sich a figur, with ’oles in ’is trousers an’ ’is ’ats squeezed flat an’ ’is jackets torn. But Master Charles aint a bit better. Though ’e’s scarcely able to walk ’e can ride like a jockey, an’ needs more mendin’ of ’is clo’se than any six ordinary boys. Miss Flora, too, would be just as wild if she weren’t good and bidable, w’ich is ’er salvation; an’ the baby—oh! you wouldn’t believe it! didn’t I catch that hinfant, only the other day, tryin’ to throw a summerset in its bed, in imitation of Master William, an’ yesterday morning I caught Master Charles trying to teach it to ’ang on to the clo’se-rope in the nursery by its toes! It’s an awful trainin’ the poor things is gettin’—an’ the only comfort I ’ave in ’em is, that their dear mother do constantly teach ’em the Bible—w’ich condemns all sich things,—an’ she do manage to make ’em fond o’ wisitin’ an’ considerin’ of the poor.”

To which observations Jemima, holding up her hands and gazing at her bosom friend in sympathy, would reply that her own sentiments was hidentically simular, that things in general was to her most amazin’, and that there was no accountin’ for nothin’ in this life, but that w’atever came of it she ’oped the family would live long an’ ’appy in a world, w’ich was, she must confess, a most perplexing mixture of good and evil, though of course she wasn’t rightly able to understand or explain that, but she was sure of this anyhow, that, although she was by no means able to explain ’erself as well as she could wish, she knew that she wished well to every one who stuck to the golden rule like Mr and Mrs Osten.

With which sentiment, good reader, we shall conclude this chronicle of the life and adventures of Wandering Will, and respectfully bid you farewell.

The End