Driven Back to Eden

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Driven Back to Eden, by E. P. Roe

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: Driven Back to Eden

Author: E. P. Roe

Posting Date: September 8, 2012 [EBook #5269] Release Date: March, 2004 First Posted: June 23, 2002 Last Updated: February 27, 2005

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN ***

Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN

BY

E. P. ROE

THIS VOLUME

IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO

JOHNNIE

PREFACE

Months since, with much doubt and diffidence, I began this simple story. I had never before written expressly for young people, and I knew that the honest little critics could not be beguiled with words which did not tell an interesting story. How far I have succeeded, the readers of this volume, and of the St. Nicholas magazine, wherein the tale appeared as a serial, alone can answer.

I have portrayed no actual experience, but have sought to present one which might be verified in real life. I have tried to avoid all that would be impossible or even improbable. The labors performed by the children in the story were not unknown to my own hands, in childhood, nor would they form tasks too severe for many little hands now idle in the cities.

The characters are all imaginary; the scenes, in the main, are real: and I would gladly lure other families from tenement flats into green pastures.

E. P. R.

CORNWALL-ON-THE-HUDSON,

August 10, 1885.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I A PROBLEM

CHAPTER II I STATE THE CASE

CHAPTER III NEW PROSPECTS

CHAPTER IV A MOMENTOUS EXPEDITION

CHAPTER V A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS IN A CITY FLAT

CHAPTER VI A BLUFF FRIEND

CHAPTER VII MR. JONES SHOWS ME THE PLACE

CHAPTER VIII TELLING ABOUT EDEN

CHAPTER IX BREAKING CAMP

CHAPTER X SCENES ON THE WHARF

CHAPTER XI A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON

CHAPTER XII A MARCH EVENING IN EDEN

CHAPTER XIII RESCUED AND AT HOME

CHAPTER XIV SELF-DENIAL AND ITS REWARD

CHAPTER XV OUR SUNNY KITCHEN

CHAPTER XVI MAKING A PLACE FOR CHICKENS

CHAPTER XVII GOOD BARGAINS IN MAPLE SUGAR

CHAPTER XVIII BUTTERNUTS AND BOBSEY'S PERIL

CHAPTER XIX JOHN JONES, JUN

CHAPTER XX RASPBERRY LESSONS

CHAPTER XXI THE VANDOO

CHAPTER XXII EARLY APRIL GARDENING

CHAPTER XXIII A BONFIRE AND A FEAST

CHAPTER XXIV NO BLIND DRIFTING

CHAPTER XXV OWLS AND ANTWERPS

CHAPTER XXVI A COUNTRY SUNDAY

CHAPTER XXVII STRAWBERRY VISIONS AND PERTATERS

CHAPTER XXVIII CORN, COLOR, AND MUSIC

CHAPTER XXIX WE GO A-FISHING

CHAPTER XXX WEEDS AND WORKING FOR DEAR LIFE

CHAPTER XXXI NATURE SMILES AND HELPS

CHAPTER XXXII CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVES

CHAPTER XXXIII GIVEN HIS CHOICE

CHAPTER XXXIV GIVEN A CHANCE

CHAPTER XXXV WE SHALL ALL EARN OUR SALT

CHAPTER XXXVI A THUNDERBOLT

CHAPTER XXXVII RALLYING FROM THE BLOW

CHAPTER XXXVIII AUGUST WORK AND PLAY

CHAPTER XXXIX A TRIP TO THE SEASHORE

CHAPTER XL A VISIT TO HOUGHTON FARM

CHAPTER XLI HOARDING FOR WINTER

CHAPTER XLII AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT

CHAPTER XLIII THANKSGIVING DAY

CHAPTER XLIV WE CAN MAKE A LIVING IN EDEN

DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN

CHAPTER I

A PROBLEM

Where are the children?

They can't be far away, replied my wife, looking up from her preparations for supper. Bobsey was here a moment ago. As soon as my back's turned he's out and away. I haven't seen Merton since he brought his books from school, and I suppose Winnie is upstairs with the Daggetts.

I wish, my dear, you could keep the children at home more, I said, a little petulantly.

I wish you would go and find them for me now, and to-morrow take my place—for just one day.

Well, well, I said, with a laugh that had no mirth in it; only one of your wishes stands much chance of being carried out. I'll find the children now if I can without the aid of the police. Mousie, do you feel stronger to-night?

These words were spoken to a pale girl of fourteen, who appeared to be scarcely more than twelve, so diminutive was her frame.

Yes, papa, she replied, a faint smile flitting like a ray of light across her features. She always said she was better, but never got well. Her quiet ways and tones had led to the household name of Mousie.

As I was descending the narrow stairway I was almost overthrown by a torrent of children pouring down from the flats above. In the dim light of a gas-burner I saw that Bobsey was one of the reckless atoms. He had not heard my voice in the uproar, and before I could reach him, he with the others had burst out at the street door and gone tearing toward the nearest corner. It seemed that he had slipped away in order to take part in a race, and I found him squaring off at a bigger boy who had tripped him up. Without a word I carried him home, followed by the jeers and laughter of the racers, the girls making their presence known in the early December twilight by the shrillness of their voices and by manners no gentler than those of the boys.

I put down the child—he was only seven years of age—in the middle of our general living-room, and looked at him. His little coat was split out in the back; one of his stockings, already well-darned at the knees, was past remedy; his hands were black, and one was bleeding; his whole little body was throbbing with excitement, anger, and violent exercise. As I looked at him quietly the defiant expression in his eyes began to give place to tears.

There is no use in punishing him now, said my wife. Please leave him to me and find the others.

I wasn't going to punish him, I said.

What are you going to do? What makes you look at him so?

He's a problem I can't solve—with the given conditions.

O Robert, you drive me half wild. If the house was on fire you'd stop to follow out some train of thought about it all. I'm tired to death. Do bring the children home. When we've put them to bed you can figure on your problem, and I can sit down.

As I went up to the Daggetts' flat I was dimly conscious of another problem. My wife was growing fretful and nervous. Our rooms would not have satisfied a Dutch housewife, but if order is heaven's first law a little of Paradise was in them as compared to the Daggetts' apartments. Yes, I was told, in response to my inquiries; Winnie is in the bed-room with Melissy.

The door was locked, and after some hesitation the girls opened it. As we were going downstairs I caught a glimpse of a newspaper in my girl's pocket. She gave it to me reluctantly, and said Melissy had lent it to her. I told her to help her mother prepare supper while I went to find Merton. Opening the paper under a street lamp, I found it to be a cheap, vile journal, full of flashy pictures that so often offend the eye on news-stands. With a chill of fear I thought, Another problem. The Daggett children had had the scarlet fever a few months before. But here's a worse infection, I reflected. Thank heaven, Winnie is only a child, and can't understand these pictures; and I tore the paper up and thrust it into its proper place, the gutter.

Now, I muttered, I've only to find Merton in mischief to make the evening's experience complete.

In mischief I did find him—a very harmful kind of mischief, it appeared to me. Merton was little over fifteen, and he and two or three other lads were smoking cigarettes which, to judge by their odor, must certainly have been made from the sweepings of the manufacturer's floor.

Can't you find anything better than that to do after school? I asked, severely.

Well, sir, was the sullen reply, I'd like to know what there is for a boy to do in this street.

During the walk home I tried to think of an answer to his implied question. What would I do if I were in Merton's place? I confess that I was puzzled. After sitting in school all day he must do something that the police would permit. There certainly seemed very little range of action for a growing boy. Should I take him out of school and put him into a shop or an office? If I did this his education would be sadly limited. Moreover he was tall and slender for his age, and upon his face there was a pallor which I dislike to see in a boy. Long hours of business would be very hard upon him, even if he could endure the strain at all. The problem which had been pressing on me for months—almost years—grew urgent.

With clouded brows we sat down to our modest little supper. Winifred, my wife, was hot and flushed from too near acquaintance with the stove, and wearied by a long day of toil in a room that would be the better for a gale of wind. Bobsey, as we called my little namesake, was absorbed—now that he was relieved from the fear of punishment—by the wish to punch the boy who had tripped him up. Winnie was watching me furtively, and wondering what had become of the paper, and what I thought of it. Merton was somewhat sullen, and a little ashamed of himself. I felt that my problem was to give these children something to do that would not harm them, for do SOMETHING they certainly would. They were rapidly attaining that age when the shelter of a narrow city flat would not answer, when the influence of a crowded house and of the street might be greater than any we could bring to bear upon them.

I looked around upon the little group for whom I was responsible. My will was still law to them. While my little wife had positive ways of her own, she would agree to any decided course that I resolved upon. The children were yet under entire control, so that I sat at the head of the table, commander-in-chief of the little band. We called the narrow flat we lived in home. The idea! with the Daggetts above and the Ricketts on the floor beneath. It was not a home, and was scarcely a fit camping-ground for such a family squad as ours. Yet we had stayed on for years in this long, narrow line of rooms, reaching from a crowded street to a little back-yard full of noisy children by day, and noisier cats by night. I had often thought of moving, but had failed to find a better shelter that was within my very limited means. The neighborhood was respectable, so far as a densely populated region can be. It was not very distant from my place of business, and my work often kept me so late at the office that we could not live in the suburb. The rent was moderate for New York, and left me some money, after food and clothing were provided, for occasional little outings and pleasures, which I believe to be needed by both body and mind. While the children were little—so long as they would stay put in the cradle or on the floor—we did not have much trouble. Fortunately I had good health, and, as my wife said, was handy with children. Therefore I could help her in the care of them at night, and she had kept much of her youthful bloom. Heaven had blessed us. We had met with no serious misfortunes, nor had any of our number been often prostrated by prolonged and dangerous illness. But during the last year my wife had been growing thin, and occasionally her voice had a sharpness which was new. Every month Bobsey became more hard to manage. Our living-room was to him like a cage to a wild bird, and slip away he would, to his mother's alarm; for he was almost certain to get into mischief or trouble. The effort to perform her household tasks and watch over him was more wearing than it had been to rock him through long hours at night when he was a teething baby. These details seem very homely no doubt, yet such as these largely make up our lives. Comfort or discomfort, happiness or unhappiness, springs from them. There is no crop in the country so important as that of boys and girls. How could I manage my little home-garden in a flat?

I looked thoughtfully from one to another, as with children's appetites they became absorbed in one of the chief events of the day.

Well, said my wife, querulously, how are you getting on with your problem?

Take this extra bit of steak and I'll tell you after the children are asleep, I said.

I can't eat another mouthful, she exclaimed, pushing back her almost untasted supper. Broiling the steak was enough for me.

You are quite tired out, dear, I said, very gently.

Her face softened immediately at my tone and tears came into her eyes.

I don't know what is the matter with me, she faltered. I am so nervous some days that I feel as if I should fly to pieces. I do try to be patient, but I know I'm growing cross!

Oh now, mamma, spoke up warm-hearted Merton; the idea of your being cross.

She IS cross, Bobsey cried; she boxed my ears this very day.

And you deserved it, was Merton's retort. It's a pity they are not boxed oftener.

Yes, Robert, I did, continued my wife, sorrowfully. Bobsey ran away four times, and vexed me beyond endurance, that is, such endurance as I have left, which doesn't seem to be very much.

I understand, dear, I said. You are a part of my problem, and you must help me solve it. Then I changed the subject decidedly, and soon brought sunshine to our clouded household. Children's minds are easily diverted; and my wife, whom a few sharp words would have greatly irritated, was soothed, and her curiosity awakened as to the subject of my thoughts.

CHAPTER II

I STATE THE CASE

I pondered deeply while my wife and Winnie cleared away the dishes and put Bobsey into his little crib. I felt that the time for a decided change had come, and that it should be made before the evils of our lot brought sharp and real trouble.

How should I care for my household? If I had been living on a far frontier among hostile Indians I should have known better how to protect them. I could build a house of heavy logs and keep my wife and children always near me while at work. But it seemed to me that Melissa Daggett and her kin with their flashy papers, and the influence of the street for Merton and Bobsey, involved more danger to my little band than all the scalping Modocs that ever whooped. The children could not step outside the door without danger of meeting some one who would do them harm. It is the curse of crowded city life that there is so little of a natural and attractive sort for a child to do, and so much of evil close at hand.

My wife asked me humorously for the news. She saw that I was not reading my paper, and my frowning brow and firm lips proved my problem was not of a trifling nature. She suspected nothing more, however, than that I was thinking of taking rooms in some better locality, and she was wondering how I could do it, for she knew that my income now left but a small surplus above expenses.

At last Winnie too was ready to go to bed, and I said to her, gravely: Here is money to pay Melissa for that paper. It was only fit for the gutter, and into the gutter I put it. I wish you to promise me never to look at such pictures again, or you can never hope to grow up to be a lady like mamma.

The child flushed deeply, and went tearful and penitent to bed. Mousie also retired with a wistful look upon her face, for she saw that something of grave importance occupied my mind.

No matter how tired my wife might be, she was never satisfied to sit down until the room had been put in order, a green cloth spread upon the supper-table and the student lamp placed in its centre.

Merton brought his school-books, and my wife took up her mending, and we three sat down within the circle of light.

Don't do any more work to-night, I said, looking into my wife's face, and noting for a few moments that it was losing its rounded lines.

Her hands dropped wearily into her lap, and she began gratefully: I'm glad you speak so kindly to-night, Robert, for I am so nervous and out of sorts that I couldn't have stood one bit of fault-finding—I should have said things, and then have been sorry all day to-morrow. Dear knows, each day brings enough without carrying anything over. Come, read the paper to me, or tell me what you have been thinking about so deeply, if you don't mind Merton's hearing you. I wish to forget myself, and work, and everything that worries me, for a little while.

I'll read the paper first, and then, after Merton has learned his lessons, I will tell you my thoughts—my purpose, I may almost say. Merton shall know about it soon, for he is becoming old enough to understand the 'why' of things. I hope, my boy, that your teacher lays a good deal of stress on the WHY in all your studies.

Oh, yes, after a fashion.

Well, so far as I am your teacher, Merton, I wish you always to think why you should do a thing or why you shouldn't, and to try not to be satisfied with any reason but a good one.

Then I gleaned from the paper such items as I thought would interest my wife. At last we were alone, with no sound in the room but the low roar of the city, a roar so deep as to make one think that the tides of life were breaking waves.

I was doing some figuring in a note-book when my wife asked: Robert, what is your problem to-night? And what part have I in it?

So important a part that I couldn't solve it without you, I replied, smiling at her.

Oh, come now, she said, laughing slightly for the first time in the evening; you always begin to flatter a little when you want to carry a point.

Well, then, you are on your guard against my wiles. But believe me, Winifred, the problem on my mind is not like one of my ordinary brown studies; in those I often try to get back to the wherefore of things which people usually accept and don't bother about. The question I am considering comes right home to us, and we must meet it. I have felt for some time that we could not put off action much longer, and to-night I am convinced of it.

Then I told her how I had found three of the children engaged that evening, concluding: The circumstances of their lot are more to blame than they themselves. And why should I find fault with you because you are nervous? You could no more help being nervous and a little impatient than you could prevent the heat of the lamp from burning you, should you place your finger over it. I know the cause of it all. As for Mousie, she is growing paler and thinner every day. You know what my income is; we could not change things much for the better by taking other rooms and moving to another part of the city, and we might find that we had changed for the worse. I propose that we go to the country and get our living out of the soil.

"Why, Robert! what do you know about farming or