Alice Turner Curtis - "A Little Maid of Old Maine"

Moliere [Jean Baptiste Poquelin] - "Don Juan, ou le Festin de pierre"

Will Rogers - "Rogers isms, the Cowboy Philosopher on the Peace Conference"

Victor Appleton - "Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

A Jolly Fellowship

F >> Frank R. Stockton >> A Jolly Fellowship




"Please, missy, buy jist this one bunch. These is the puttiest red-rose
buds in dis whole town. De red roses nearly all gone."

"Nearly all gone," said I. "What do you mean by telling such a fib?"--I
was going to say "lie," which was nearer the truth (if that isn't a
bull); but there were several ladies about, and Priscilla herself was a
girl. "You know that there are red roses here all the year."

"Please, boss," said Priscilla, rolling her eyes at me like an innocent
calf, "wont you buy dese roses fur missy? They's the puttiest roses I
ever brought her yit."

"I guess you've got a calcareous conscience, haven't you?" said Rectus.

Priscilla looked at him, for a moment, as if she thought that he might
want to buy something of that kind, but as she hadn't it to sell, she
tried her flowers on him.

"Please, boss, wont you buy dese roses fur----"

"No," said Rectus, "I wont."

And we all turned and walked away. It was no use to blow her up. She
wouldn't have minded it. But she lost three customers.

I said before that I was the only one in our party who liked fishing,
and for that reason I didn't go often, for I don't care about taking
trips of that kind by myself. But one day Mr. Burgan and the other
yellow-legs told me that they were going to fish in Lake Killarney, a
lovely little lake in the interior of the island, about five miles from
the town, and that if I liked I might go along. I did like, and I went.

I should have been better pleased if they had gone there in a carriage;
but this wouldn't have suited these two fellows, who had rigged
themselves up in their buck-skin boots, and had all the tramping and
fishing rigs that they used in the Adirondacks and other sporting places
where they told me they had been. It was a long and a warm walk, and
trying to find a good place for fishing, after we got to the lake, made
the work harder yet. We didn't find any good place, and the few fish we
caught didn't pay for the trouble of going there; but we walked all over
a big pineapple plantation and had a splendid view from the highest hill
on the whole island.

It was pretty late in the afternoon when we reached home, and I made up
my mind that the next time I went so far to fish, in a semi-tropical
country, I'd go with a party who wore suits that would do for riding.

Rectus and Corny and Mrs. Chipperton were up in the silk-cotton tree
when I got home, and I went there and sat down. Mrs. Chipperton lent me
her fan.

Corny and Rectus were looking over the "permission paper" which the
English governor had given us.

"I guess this isn't any more use, now," said Corny, "as we've done all
we can for kings and queens, but Rectus says that if you agree I can
have it for my autograph book. I never had a governor's signature."

"Certainly, you can have it," I said. "And he's a different governor
from the common run. None of your State governors, but a real British
governor, like those old fellows they set over us in our colony-days."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Chipperton, smiling. "You must be able to remember a
long way back."

"Well, you needn't make fun of this governor," said Corny, "for he's a
real nice man. We met him to-day, riding in the funniest carriage you
ever saw in your life. It's like a big baby-carriage for twins, only
it's pulled by a horse, and has a man in livery to drive it. The top's
straw, and you get in in the middle, and sit both ways."

"Either way, my dear," said Mrs. Chipperton.

"Yes, either way," continued Corny. "Did you ever see a carriage like
that?"

"I surely never did," said I.

"Well, he was in it, and some ladies, and they stopped and asked Rectus
and I how we got along with our queen, and when I told them all about
it, you ought to have heard them laugh, and the governor, he said, that
Poqua-dilla shouldn't suffer after we went away, even if he had to get
all his pepper-pods from her. Now, wasn't that good?"

I admitted that it was, but I thought to myself that a good supper and a
bed would be better, for I was awfully tired and hungry. But I didn't
say this.

I slept as sound as a rock that night, and it was pretty broad daylight
when I woke up. I don't believe that I would have wakened then, but I
wanted to turn over and couldn't, and that is enough to make any fellow
wake up.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the worst fix I had ever been
in in my life. I couldn't move my arms or my legs, for my arms were tied
fast to my body, at the elbows and wrists, and my feet and my knees were
tied together. I was lying flat on my back, but I could turn my head
over to where Rectus' bed stood--it was a small one like mine--and he
wasn't there. I sung out:

"Rectus!" and gave a big heave, which made the bed rattle. I was scared.

In a second, Rectus was standing by me. He had been sitting by the
window. He was all dressed.

"Don't shout that way again," he said, in a low voice, "or I'll have to
tie this handkerchief over your mouth," and he showed me a clean linen
handkerchief all folded up, ready. "I wont put it so that it will stop
your breathing," he said, as coolly as if this sort of thing was nothing
unusual. "I'll leave your nose free."

"Let me up, you little rascal!" I cried. "Did you do this?"

At that he deliberately laid the handkerchief over my mouth and fastened
it around my head. He was careful to leave my nose all right, but I was
so mad that I could scarcely breathe. I knew by the way he acted that he
had tied me, and I had never had such a trick played on me before. But
it was no use to be mad. I couldn't do anything, though I tugged and
twisted my very best. He had had a good chance to tie me up well, for I
had slept so soundly. I was regularly bandaged.

He stood by me for a few minutes, watching to see if I needed any more
fixing, but when he made up his mind that I was done up securely, he
brought a chair and sat down by the side of the bed and began to talk to
me. I never saw anything like the audacity of the boy.

"You needn't think it was mean to tie you, when you were so tired and
sleepy, for I intended to do it this morning, any way, for you always
sleep sound enough in the mornings to let a fellow tie you up as much as
he pleases. And I suppose you'll say it was mean to tie you, any way,
but you know well enough that it's no use for me to argue with you, for
you wouldn't listen. But now you've got to listen, and I wont let you up
till you promise never to call me Rectus again."

"The little rascal!" I thought to myself. I might have made some noise
in spite of the handkerchief, but I thought it better not, for I didn't
know what else he might pile on my mouth.

"It isn't my name, and I'm tired of it," he continued. "I didn't mind it
at school, and I didn't mind it when we first started out together, but
I've had enough of it now, and I've made up my mind that I'll make you
promise never to call me by that name again."

I vowed to myself that I would call him Rectus until his hair was gray.
I'd write letters to him wherever he lived, and direct them: "Rectus
Colbert."

[Illustration: "I WOULDN'T LIKE IT MYSELF."]

"There wasn't any other way to do it, and so I did it this way," he
said. "I'm sorry, really, to have to tie you up so, because I wouldn't
like it myself, and I wouldn't have put that handkerchief over your
mouth if you had agreed to keep quiet, but I don't want anybody coming
in here until you've promised."

"Promise!" I thought; "I'll never promise you that while the world rolls
round."

"I know you can't say anything with that handkerchief over your mouth;
but you don't have to speak. Your toes are loose. When you're ready to
promise never to call me Rectus again, just wag your big toe, either
one."

I stiffened my toes, as if my feet were cast in brass. Rectus moved his
chair a little around, so that he could keep an eye on my toes. Then he
looked at his watch, and said:

"It's seven o'clock now, and that's an hour from breakfast time. I don't
want to keep you there any longer than I can help. You'd better wag your
toe now, and be done with it. It's no use to wait."

"Wag?" I thought to myself. "Never!"

"I know what you're thinking," he went on. "You think that if you lie
there long enough, you'll be all right, for when the chambermaid comes
to do up the room, I must let her in, or else I'll have to say you're
sick, and then the Chippertons will come up."

That was exactly what I was thinking.

"But that wont do you any good," said he, "I've thought of all that."

He was a curious boy. How such a thing as this should have come into his
mind, I couldn't imagine. He must have read of something of the kind.
But to think of his trying it on _me_! I ground my teeth.

He sat and watched me for some time longer. Once or twice he fixed the
handkerchief over my mouth, for he seemed anxious that I should be as
comfortable as possible. He was awfully kind, to be sure!

"It isn't right that anybody should have such a name sticking to them
always," he said. "And if I'd thought you'd have stopped it, I wouldn't
have done this. But I knew you. You would just have laughed and kept
on."

The young scoundrel! Why didn't he try me?

"Yesterday, when the governor met us, Corny called me Rectus, and even
he said that was a curious name, and he didn't remember that I gave it
to him, when he wrote that paper for us."

Oh, ho! That was it, was it? Getting proud and meeting governors! Young
prig!

Now Rectus was quiet a little longer, and then he got up.

"I didn't think you'd be so stubborn," he said, "but perhaps you know
your own business best. I'm not going to keep you there until breakfast
is ready, and people want to come in."

Then he went over to the window, and came back directly with a little
black paint-pot, with a brush in it.

"Now," said he, "if you don't promise, in five minutes, to never call me
Rectus again, I'm going to paint one-half of your face black. I got this
paint yesterday from the cane-man, on purpose."

Oil-paint! I could smell it.

"Now, you may be sure I'm going to do it," he said.

Oh, I was sure! When he said he'd do a thing, I knew he'd do it. I had
no doubts about that. He was great on sticking to his word.

He had put his watch on the table near by, and was stirring up the
paint.

"You've only three minutes more," he said. "This stuff wont wash off in
a hurry, and you'll have to stay up here by yourself, and wont need any
tying. It's got stuff mixed with it to make it dry soon, so that you
needn't lie there very long after I've painted you. You mustn't mind if
I put my finger on your mouth when I take off the handkerchief; I'll be
careful not to get any in your eyes or on your lips if you hold your
head still. One minute more. Will you promise?"

What a dreadful minute! He turned and looked at my feet. I gave one big
twist in my bandages. All held. I wagged my toe.

"Good!" said he. "I didn't want to paint you. But I would have done it,
sure as shot, if you hadn't promised. Now I'll untie you. I can trust
you to stick to your word,--I mean your wag," he said, with a grin.

It took him a long time to undo me. The young wretch had actually pinned
long strips of muslin around me, and he had certainly made a good job of
it, for they didn't hurt me at all, although they held me tight enough.
He said, as he was working at me, that he had torn up two old shirts to
make these bandages, and had sewed some of the strips together the
afternoon before. He said he had heard of something like this being done
at a school. A pretty school that must have been!

He unfastened my arms first,--that is, as soon as he had taken the
handkerchief off my mouth,--and the moment he had taken the bandage from
around my ankles, he put for the door. But I was ready. I sprang out of
bed, made one jump over his bed, around which he had to go, and caught
him just at the door.

He forgot that he should have left my ankles for me to untie for myself.

I guess the people in the next rooms must have thought there was
something of a rumpus in our room when I caught him.

There was considerable coolness between Colbert and me after that. In
fact, we didn't speak. I was not at all anxious to keep this thing up,
for I was satisfied, and was perfectly willing to call it square; but
for the first time since I had known him, Colbert was angry. I suppose
every fellow, no matter how good-natured he may be, must have some sort
of a limit to what he will stand, and Colbert seemed to have drawn his
line at a good thrashing.

It wasn't hard for me to keep my promise to him, for I didn't call him
anything; but I should have kept it all the same if we had been on the
old terms.

Of course, Corny soon found out that there was something the matter
between us two, and she set herself to find out what it was.

"What's the matter with you and Rectus?" she asked me the next day. I
was standing in the carriage-way before the hotel, and she ran out to
me.

"You mustn't call him Rectus," said I. "He doesn't like it."

"Well, then, I wont," said she. "But what is it all about? Did you
quarrel about calling him that? I hate to see you both going about, and
not speaking to each other."

I had no reason to conceal anything, and so I told her the whole affair,
from the very beginning to the end.

"I don't wonder he's mad," said she, "if you thrashed him."

"Well, and oughtn't I to be mad after the way he treated me?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "It makes me sick just to think of being tied up in
that way,--and the black paint, too! But then you are so much bigger
than he is, that it don't seem right for you to thrash him."

"That's one reason I did it," said I. "I didn't want to fight him as I
should have fought a fellow of my own size. I wanted to punish him. Do
you think that when a father wants to whip his son he ought to wait
until he grows up as big as he is?"

"No," said Corny, very gravely. "Of course not. But Rectus isn't your
son. What shall I call him? Samuel, or Sam? I don't like either of them,
and I wont say Mr. Colbert. I think 'Rectus' is a great deal nicer."

"So do I," I said; "but that's his affair. To be sure, he isn't my son,
but he's under my care, and if he wasn't, it would make no difference.
I'd thrash any boy alive who played such a trick on me."

"Unless he was bigger than you are," said Corny.

"Well, then I'd get you to help me. You'd do it; wouldn't you, Corny?"

She laughed.

"I guess I couldn't help much, and I suppose you're both right to be
angry at each other; but I'm awful sorry if things are going on this
way. It didn't seem like the same place yesterday. Nobody did anything
at all."

"I tell you what it is, Corny," said I. "You're not angry with either of
us; are you?"

"No, indeed," said she, and her face warmed up and her eyes shone.

"That's one comfort," said I, and I gave her a good hand-shake.

It must have looked funny to see a boy and a girl shaking hands there in
front of the hotel, and a young darkey took advantage of our good-humor,
and, stealing out from a shady corner of the court, sold us seven little
red and black liquorice-seed for fourpence,--the worst swindle that had
been worked on us yet.




CHAPTER XVI.

MR. CHIPPERTON KEEPS PERFECTLY COOL.


It's of no use to deny the fact that Nassau was a pretty dull place,
just about this time. At least Corny and I found it so, and I don't
believe young Mr. Colbert was very happy, for he didn't look it. It's
not to be supposed that our quarrel affected the negroes, or the sky, or
the taste of bananas; but the darkeys didn't amuse me, and my
recollection of those days is that they were cloudy, and that I wasn't a
very good customer down in the market-house by the harbor, where we used
to go and buy little fig-bananas, which they didn't have at the hotel,
but which were mighty good to eat.

Colbert and I still kept up a frigid reserve toward each other. He
thought, I suppose, that I ought to speak first, because I was the
older, and I thought that he ought to speak first because he was the
younger.

One evening, I went up into my room, having absolutely nothing else to
do, and there I found Colbert, writing. I suppose he was writing a
letter, but there was no need of doing this at night, as the mail would
not go out for several days, and there would be plenty of time to write
in the daytime. He hadn't done anything but lounge about for two or
three days. Perhaps he came up here to write because he had nothing else
to do.

There was only one table, and I couldn't write if I had wanted to, so I
opened my trunk and began to put some of my things in order. We had
arranged, before we had fallen out, that we should go home on the next
steamer, and Mr. and Mrs. Chipperton were going too. We had been in
Nassau nearly a month, and had seen about as much as was to be seen--in
an ordinary way. As for me, I couldn't afford to stay any longer, and
that had been the thing that had settled the matter, as far as Colbert
and I were concerned. But now he might choose to stay, and come home by
himself. However, there was no way of my knowing what he thought, and I
supposed that I had no real right to make him come with me. At any rate,
if I had, I didn't intend to exercise it.

While I was looking over the things in my trunk, I came across the box
of dominoes that Corny had given us to remember her by. It seemed like a
long time ago since we had been sitting together on the water-battery at
St. Augustine! In a few minutes I took the box of dominoes in my hand
and went over to Colbert. As I put them on the table he looked up.

"What do you say to a game of dominoes?" I said. "This is the box Corny
gave us. We haven't used it yet."

"Very well," said he, and he pushed away his paper and emptied the
dominoes out on the table. Then he picked up some of them, and looked at
them as if they were made in some new kind of a way that he had never
noticed before; and I picked up some, too, and examined them. Then we
began to play. We did not talk very much, but we played as if it was
necessary to be very careful to make no mistakes. I won the first game,
and I could not help feeling a little sorry, while Colbert looked as if
he felt rather glad. We played until about our ordinary bed-time, and
then I said:

"Well, Colbert, I guess we might as well stop," and he said:

"Very well."

But he didn't get ready to go to bed. He went to the window and looked
out for some time, and then he came back to the table and sat down. He
took his pen and began to print on the lid of the domino-box, which was
of smooth white wood. He could print names and titles of things very
neatly, a good deal better than I could.

When he had finished, he got up and began to get ready for bed, leaving
the box on the table. Pretty soon I went over to look at it, for I must
admit I was rather curious to see what he had put on it. This was the
inscription he had printed on the lid:

"GIVEN TO
WILL AND RECTUS
BY
CORNY.
ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA."

* * * * *

There was a place left for the date, which I suppose he had forgotten. I
made no remark about this inscription, for I did not know exactly what
remark was needed; but the next morning I called him "Rectus," just the
same as ever, for I knew he had printed our names on the box to show me
that he wanted to let me off my promise. I guess the one time I called
him Colbert was enough for him.

When we came down stairs to breakfast, talking to each other like common
people, it was better than most shows to see Corny's face. She was
standing at the front door, not far from the stairs, and it actually
seemed as if a candle had been lighted inside of her. Her face shone.

I know I felt first-rate, and I think Rectus must have felt pretty much
the same, for his tongue rattled away at a rate that wasn't exactly
usual with him. There was no mistaking Corny's feelings.

After breakfast, when we all got together to talk over the plans of the
day,--a thing we hadn't done for what seemed to me about a week,--we
found out--or rather remembered--that there were a lot of things in
Nassau that we hadn't seen yet, and that we wouldn't miss for anything.
We had been wasting time terribly lately, and the weather was now rather
better for going about than it had been since we came to the place.

We agreed to go to Fort Charlotte that morning, and see the subterranean
rooms and passage-ways, and all the underground dreariness of which we
had heard so much. The fort was built about a hundred years ago, and
has no soldiers in it. To go around and look at the old forts in this
part of the world might make a person believe the millennium had come.
They seem just about as good as ever they were, but they're all on a
peace-footing. Rectus said they were played out, but I'd rather take my
chances in Fort Charlotte, during a bombardment, than in some of the
new-style forts that I have seen in the North. It is almost altogether
underground, in the solid calcareous, and what could any fellow want
better than that? The cannon-balls and bombs would have to plow up about
an acre of pretty solid rock, and plow it deep, too, before they would
begin to scratch the roof of the real strongholds of this fort. At
least, that's the way I looked at it.

We made up a party and walked over. It's at the western end of the town,
and about a mile from the hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Chipperton were with us,
and a lady from Chicago, and Mr. Burgan. The other yellow-legs went out
riding with his wife, but I think he wanted to go with us. The fort is
on the top of a hill, and a colored shoemaker is in command. He sits and
cobbles all day, except when visitors come, and then he shows them
around. He lighted a lamp and took us down into the dark, quiet rooms
and cells, that were cut out of the solid rock, down deep into the hill,
and it was almost like being in a coal-mine, only it was a great deal
cleaner and not so deep. But it seemed just as much out of the world. In
some of the rooms there were bats hanging to the ceilings. We didn't
disturb them. One of the rooms was called the governor's room. There
wasn't any governor there, of course, but it had been made by the jolly
old earl who had the place cut out,--and who was governor here at the
time,--as a place where he might retire when he wanted to be private. It
was the most private apartment I ever saw. This earl was the same old
Dunmore we used to study about in our histories. He came over here when
the Revolution threw him out of business in our country. He had some
good ideas about chiselling rock.

This part of the fort was so extremely subterranean and solemn that it
wasn't long before Mrs. Chipperton had enough of it, and we came up. It
was fine to get out into the open air, and see the blue sky and the
bright, sparkling water of the harbor just below us, and the islands
beyond, and still beyond them the blue ocean, with everything so bright
and cheerful in the sunlight. If I had been governor of this place, I
should have had my private room on top of the fort, although, of course,
that wouldn't do so well in times of bombardment.

But the general-in-chief did not let us off yet. He said he'd show us
the most wonderful thing in the whole place, and then he took us
out-of-doors again, and led us to a little shed or enclosed door-way
just outside of the main part of the fort, but inside of the
fortifications, where he had his bench and tools. He moved away the
bench, and then we saw that it stood on a wooden trap-door. He took hold
of a ring, and lifted up this door, and there was a round hole about as
big as the hind wheel of a carriage. It was like a well, and was as
dark as pitch. When we held the lamp over it, however, we could see that
there were winding steps leading down into it. These steps were cut out
of the rock, as was the hole and the pillar around which the steps
wound. It was all one piece. The general took his lamp and went down
ahead, and we all followed, one by one. Those who were most afraid and
went last had the worst of it, for the lamp wasn't a calcium light by
any means, and their end of the line was a good deal in the dark. But we
all got to the bottom of the well at last, and there we found a long,
narrow passage leading under the very foundation or bottom floor of the
whole place, and then it led outside of the fort under the moat, which
was dry now, but which used to be full of water, and so, on and on, in
black darkness, to a place in the side of the hill, or somewhere, where
there had been a lookout. Whether there were any passages opening into
this or not, I don't know, for it was dark in spite of the lamp, and we
all had to walk in single file, so there wasn't much chance for
exploring sidewise. When we got to the end, we were glad enough to turn
around and come back. It was a good thing to see such a place, but there
was a feeling that if the walls should cave in a little, or a big rock
should fall from the top of the passage, we should all be hermetically
canned in very close quarters. When we came out, we gave the shoemaker
commander some money, and came away.

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