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161 pages

English

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When little Hannah Ann's father first proposes the idea of a trip to New York, she's beside herself with excitement. As the day of the journey approaches, she can hardly stand the anticipation. Despite a few misadventures, the vacation fully lives up to her expectations. Younger readers will enjoy this look back at the early history of the Big Apple.

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 décembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776594337
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK
* * *
AMANDA MINNIE DOUGLAS

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A Little Girl in Old New York First published in 1897 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-433-7 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-434-4 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Little Girl Chapter II - Good-By to an Old Home Chapter III - Fine Feathers for the Little Wren Chapter IV - A Look at Old New York Chapter V - Girls and Girls Chapter VI - Miss Dolly Beekman Chapter VII - Miss Lois and Sixty Years Ago Chapter VIII - The End of the World Chapter IX - A Wonderful Scheme Chapter X - A Merry Christmas Chapter XI - The Little Girl in Politics Chapter XII - A Real Party Chapter XIII - New Relations Chapter XIV - John Robert Charles Chapter XV - A Play in the Back Yard Chapter XVI - Daisy Jasper Chapter XVII - Some of the Old Landmarks Chapter XVIII - Sundry Dissipations Chapter XIX - When Christmas Bells Were Ringing
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To DOROTHY MOORE , A LITTLE GIRL OF TO-DAY, FROM HER MAMMA'S FRIEND, AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. NEWARK, 1896.
Chapter I - The Little Girl
*
"How would you like to go to New York to live, little girl?"
The little girl looked up into her father's face to see if he was"making fun." He did sometimes. He was beginning to go down the hill ofmiddle life, a rather stout personage with a fair, florid complexion,brown hair, rough and curly, and a border of beard shaved well away fromhis mouth. Both beard and hair were getting threads of white in them.His jolly blue eyes were mostly in a twinkle, and his good-natured mouthlooked as if he might be laughing at you.
She studied him intently. Three months before she had been taken to thecity on a visit, and it was a great event. I suspect that her mother didnot like being separated from her a whole fortnight. She was such anice, quiet, well-behaved little girl. Children were trained in thosedays. Some of them actually took pride in being as nice as possible andobeying the first time they were spoken to, without even asking "Why?"
The little girl sat on a stool sewing patchwork. This particular patternwas called a lemon star and had eight diamond-shaped pieces of twocolors, filled in with white around the edge, making a square. Hergrandmother was coming to "join" it for her, and have it quilted beforeshe was eight years old. She was doing her part with a good will.
"To New York?" she repeated very deliberately. Then she went on with hersewing for she had no time to waste.
"Yes, Pussy." Her father pinched her cheek softly. The little girl wasthe most precious thing in the world, he sometimes thought.
"What, all of us?" You see she had a mind to understand the case beforeshe committed herself.
"Oh, certainly! I don't know as we could leave any one behind."
Then he lifted her up in his lap and hugged her, scrubbing her face withhis beard which gave her pink cheeks. They both laughed. She held hersewing out with one hand so that the needle should not scratch either ofthem.
"I can't—hardly—tell;" and her face was serious.
I want to explain to you that the little girl had not begun withgrammar. You may find her making mistakes occasionally. Perhaps thechildren of to-day do the same thing.
"Would we move everything?" raising her wondering eyes.
"Well, no—not quite;" and the humorous light crossed his face. "Wecouldn't take the orchard nor the meadows nor the woods nor the creek."(I think he said "medders" and "crick," and his "nor" sounded as if heput an e in it.) "There are a good many things we should have to leavebehind."
He sighed and the little girl sighed too. She drew up her patchwork andbegan to sew.
"It is a great deal of trouble to move;" she began gravely. "I mustconsider."
She had caught that from Great-Aunt Van Kortlandt, who never committedherself to anything without considering.
Her father kissed her cheek. If it had been a little fatter she wouldhave had a dimple. Or perhaps he put so many kisses in the little dentit was always filled up with love.
I don't know whether you would have thought this little girl of pastseven pretty or not. She was small and fair with a rather prim face andthick light hair, parted in the middle, combed back of her ears, and cutsquare across the neck, but the ends had some curly twists.
Certainly children are dressed prettier nowadays. The little girl'sfrock was green with tiny rivulets of yellow meandering over it. Theymade islands and peninsulas and isthmuses of green that were odd andfreaky. Mrs. Underhill had bought it to join her sashwork quilt, andthere was enough left to make the little girl a frock. It had the meritof washing well, but it gave her a rather ghostly look. It had a short,full waist with shoulder straps, making a square neck, a wide belt, anda skirt that came down to the tops of her shoes, which were like Oxfordties. Though she was not rosy she had never been really ill, and onlystayed at home two weeks the previous winter at the worst of thewhooping-cough, which nobody seemed to mind then. But it must have madea sort of Wagner chorus if many children coughed at once.
"I had a very nice time in New York," she began, with grave approbation,when she had considered for some seconds. "The museum was splendid! Andthe houses seem sociable-like. Don't you suppose they nod to each otherwhen the folks are asleep? And the stores are so—so—" she tried tothink of the longest word she knew—"so magnificent? Aunt Patience andAunt Nancy were so nice. And the cat was perfectly white and sat in AuntNancy's lap. There was a little girl next door who had a big doll and acradle and a set of dishes, and we had tea together. I'd like to havesome dishes. Do you think Uncle Faid is coming back?" she askedsuddenly.
"I believe he is, this time. And if we get very homesick we shall haveto come back and live with him."
"I shouldn't be homesick with you and mother and the boys, and Steve andJoe. It would be nice to have Dobbin and Prince, but the stores are onthe corners instead of going to the village, and its nice and queer toride in the omnibuses and hand your money up through the roof. Thedrivers must have an awful sight when night comes."
They even said "awful" in those far-back days, they truly did.
Father Underhill laughed and squeezed the little girl with a fondnessshe understood very well.
Just then a voice called rather sharply: "'Milyer! 'Milyer!" and he satthe little girl down on the stool as carefully as if she had been china.He put another kiss in the little dent, and she gave him a tender smile.
His whole name was Vermilye Fowler Underhill. Everybody called himFamiliar, but Mrs. Underhill shortened it to 'Milyer.
The little girl's name was Hannah Ann. The school children called herHan and Hanny. One grandmother always said Hanneran. But being theyoungest, the most natural name seemed "little girl."
There were three sons to lead off, Stephen Decatur, Joseph Bennett, andJohn Fowler. Then a daughter was most welcome, and she was calledMargaret Hunter after her mother, and shortened to Peggy. They usednicknames and diminutives, if they were not as fanciful as ours.
After Margaret came George Horton, Benny Franklin, and James Odell. Thepoor mother gave a sigh of disappointment, she had so longed for anothergirl. When Jim had outgrown babyhood altogether and was nearly five, thedesired blessing came.
There was a great discussion about her name. Grandmother Hunter hadmarried a second time and was a Van Kortlandt now. She had named heronly daughter after her mother and was a bit offended that Margaret wasnot named for her. Now she came with a fairy god-mother's insistence,and declared she would put a hundred dollars in the bank at once, andremember the child in her will, besides giving her the old Huntertablespoons made in London more than a hundred years ago, with the crownmark on them.
Grandmother Underhill's name was Ann. She lived with her eldest son atWhite Plains, who had fallen heir to his grandfather's farm. When awidow she had gone back to her girlhood's home and taken care of her oldfather. David, her eldest son, had come to work the farm. She had a"wing" in the house, but she never lived by herself, for her son and thegrandchildren adored her.
Now she said to the baby's mother: "You put in Ann for a middle name andI'll give her a hundred dollars as well, and my string of gold beadsthat came from Paris. And I'll make her a nice down bed and pillows."
So Hannah Ann it was, and the little girl began life with a bankaccount. She was a grave, sweet, dainty sort of baby, with wonderingeyes of bluish violet, bordering on gray. I think myself that she shouldhave had a prettier name, but people were not throwing away eventwo-hundred-dollar chances in those days. Neither had they come toEdiths and Ethels and Mays and Gladys. And they barbarously shortenedsome of their most beautiful names to Peggy and Betsey and Polly andSukey.
Left to herself the little girl went on with her patchwork, and recalledher visit to the city. There were so many aunts and cousins and so manywonderful things to see. She must find out whether there would be anysnow and sleighrides in the winter. As for fruit and vegetables and eggsand poultry the farmers were always sending them in to the city, sheknew that.
The prospect of a removal from Yonkers, where they had always lived, wasnot so new to the elders. Stephen was in New York nearly all the weeknow. Joseph was studying for a doctor. Joh