第8章 ARDELLA TUTT AND HER MOTHER(2)

And agin I sez calmly, and trutbfully, "Yes, it is a very remarkable one!""And now," sez Miss Tutt, plungin' her hand in the bag, and drawin' out a sheet of paper, "to convince you that Ardelia has always had this divine gift of poesy -- that it is not, all the effect of culture and high education -- let me read to you a poem she wrote when she wuz only a mere child," and Miss Tutt read:

"LINES ON A CAT

"WRITTEN BY ARDELIA TUTT, "At the age of fourteen years, two months and eight days.

"Oh Cat! Sweet Tabby cat of mine;

6 months of age has passed o'er thee, And I would not resign, resign The pleasure that I find in you.

Dear old cat!"

"Don't you think," sez Miss Tutt, "that this poem shows a fund of passion, a reserve power of passion and constancy, remarkable in one so young?""Yes," sez I reasonably, "no doubt she liked the cat.And," sez I, wantin' to say somethin' pleasant and agreeable to her, "no doubt it was a likely cat.""Oh the cat itself is of miner importance," sez Miss Tutt."We will fling the cat to the winds.It's of my daughter I would speak.I simply handled the cat to show the rare precocious intellect.Oh! how it gushed out in the last line in the unconquerable burst of repressed passion -- `Dear old cat!'

Shakespeare might have wrote that line, do you not think so?""No doubt he might," sez I, calmly, "but he didn't."I see she looked mad and I hastened to say: "He wuzn't aquainted with the cat."She looked kinder mollyfied and continued:

"Ardelia dashes off things with a speed that would astonish a mere common writer.Why she dashed off thirty-nine verses once while she wuz waitin' for the dish water to bile, and sent 'em right off to the printer, without glancin' at 'em agin.'

"I dare say so," sez I, "I should judge so by the sound on 'em.""Out of envy and jealousy, the rankest envy, and the shearest jealousy, them verses wuz sent back with the infamous request that she should use 'em for curl papers.But she sot right down and wrote forty-eight verses on a `Cruel Request,' wrote 'em inside of eighteen minutes.She throws off things, Ardelia does, in half an hour, that it would take other poets, weeks and weeks to write.""I persume so," sez I, "I dare persume to say, they never could write 'em.""And now," sez Miss Tutt, "the question is, will you put Ardelia on the back of that horse that poets ride to glory on? Will you lift her onto the back of that horse, and do it at once? Irequire nothin' hard of you," sez she, a borin' me through and through with her eyes."It must be a joy to you, Josiah Allen's wife, a rare joy, to be the means of bringin' this rare genius before the public.I ask nothin' hard of you, I only ask that you demand, demand is the right word, not ask; that would be grovelin'

trucklin' folly, but demand that the public that has long ignored my daugther Ardelia's claim to a seat amongst the immortal poets, demand them, compel them to pause, to listen, and then seat her there, up, up on the highest, most perpendiciler pinnacle of fame's pillow.Will you do this?"I sat in deep dejection and my rockin' chair, and knew not what to say -- and Miss Tutt went on:

"We demand more than fame, deathless, immortal fame for 'em.We want money, wealth for 'em, and want it at once! We want it for extra household expenses, luxuries, clothing, jewelry, charity, etc.If we enrich the world with this rare genius, the world must enrich us with its richest emmolients.Will you see that we have it! Will you at once do as I asked you to? Will you seat her immegately where I want her sot?

Sez I, considerin', "I can't get her up there alone, I haint strong enough." Sez I, sort a mekanikly, "I have got the rheumatez.""So you scoff me do you? I came to you to get bread, am I to get worse than a stun -- a scoff?""I haint gin you no scoff," sez I, a spunkin' up a little, "Ihaint thought on it.I like Ardelia and wish her well, but Ican't do merikles, I can't compel the public to like things if they don't."Sez Miss Tutt, "You are jealous of her, you hate her.""No, I don't," sez I, "I haint jealous of her, and I like her looks first-rate.I love a pretty young girl," sez I candidly, "jest as I love a fresh posy with the dew still on it, a dainty rose-bud with the sweet fragrance layin' on its half-folded heart.

I love 'em," sez I, a beginnin' to eppisode a little unbeknown to me, "I love 'em jest as I love the soft unbroken silence of the early spring mornin', the sun all palely tinted with rose and blue, and the earth alayin' calm and unwoke-up, fresh and fair.Ilove such a mornin' and such a life, for itself and for the unwritten prophecis in it.And when I see genius in such a sweet, young life, why it makes me feel as it duz to see through all the tender prophetic beauty of the mornin' skies, a big white dove a soarin' up through the blue heavens."Sez Miss Tutt, "You see that in Ardelia, but you wont own it, you know you do.""No!" sez I, "I would love to tell you that I see it in Ardelia; Iwould honest, but I can't look into them mornin' skies and say Isee a white dove there, when I don't see nothin' more than a plump pullet, a jumpin' down from the fence or a pickin' round calmly in the back door-yard.Jest as likely the hen is, as the white dove, jest as honerable, but you mustn't confound the two together.""A hen," sez Miss Tutt bitterly."To confound my Ardelia with a hen! And I don't think there wuz ever a more ironieler `hen' than that wuz, or a scornfuller one.""Why," sez I reasonably."Hens are necessary and useful in any position, both walkin' and settin', and layin'.You can't get'em in any position hardly, but what they are useful and respectable, only jest flyin'.Hens can't fly.Their wings haint shaped for it.They look some like a dove's wings on the outside, the same feathers, the same way of stretchin' 'em out.But there is sunthin lackin' in 'em, some heaven-given capacity for soarin' an for flight that the hens don't have.And it makes trouble, sights and sights of trouble when hens try to fly, try to, and can't!