Laddie (eBook)

Gene Stratton-Porter (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
940 Seiten
Seltzer Books (Verlag)
978-1-4553-1757-8 (ISBN)

Infos

According to Wikipedia: 'Gene Stratton-Porter (August 17, 1863 - December 6, 1924) was an American author, amateur naturalist, wildlife photographer, and one of the earliest women to form a movie studio and production company. She wrote some of the best selling novels and well-received columns in magazines of the day... She became a wildlife photographer, specializing in the birds and moths in one of the last of the vanishing wetlands of the lower Great Lakes Basin. The Limberlost and Wildflower Woods of northeastern Indiana were the laboratory and inspiration for her stories, novels, essays, photography, and movies. Although there is evidence that her first book was 'Strike at Shane's', which was published anonymously, her first attributed novel, The Song of the Cardinal met with great commercial success. Her novels Freckles and A Girl of the Limberlost are set in the wooded wetlands and swamps of the disappearing central Indiana ecosystems she loved and documented. She eventually wrote over 20 books. Although Stratton-Porter wanted to focus on nature books, it was her romantic novels that made her famous and generated the finances that allowed her to pursue her nature studies. She was an accomplished author, artist and photographer and is generally considered to be one of the first female authors to promulgate public positions - in her case, conserving the Limberlost Swamp.'

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According to Wikipedia: "e;Gene Stratton-Porter (August 17, 1863 - December 6, 1924) was an American author, amateur naturalist, wildlife photographer, and one of the earliest women to form a movie studio and production company. She wrote some of the best selling novels and well-received columns in magazines of the day... She became a wildlife photographer, specializing in the birds and moths in one of the last of the vanishing wetlands of the lower Great Lakes Basin. The Limberlost and Wildflower Woods of northeastern Indiana were the laboratory and inspiration for her stories, novels, essays, photography, and movies. Although there is evidence that her first book was "e;Strike at Shane's"e;, which was published anonymously, her first attributed novel, The Song of the Cardinal met with great commercial success. Her novels Freckles and A Girl of the Limberlost are set in the wooded wetlands and swamps of the disappearing central Indiana ecosystems she loved and documented. She eventually wrote over 20 books. Although Stratton-Porter wanted to focus on nature books, it was her romantic novels that made her famous and generated the finances that allowed her to pursue her nature studies. She was an accomplished author, artist and photographer and is generally considered to be one of the first female authors to promulgate public positions - in her case, conserving the Limberlost Swamp."e;

Textauszug

CHAPTER V The First Day of School

 

 

  "Birds in their little nests agree.

    And why can't we?"

 

B-i-r-d-s, birds, i-n, in, t-h-e-i-r, their, l-i-t-t-l-e, little, n-e-s-t-s, nests, a-g-r-e-e, agree."

 

My feet burned in my new shoes, but most of my body was chilling as I stood beside Miss Amelia on the platform, before the whole school, and followed the point of her pencil, while, a letter at a time, I spelled aloud my first sentence.  Nothing ever had happened to me as bad as that.  I was not used to so much clothing.  It was like taking a colt from the woods pasture and putting it into harness for the first time.  That lovely September morning I followed Leon and May down the dusty road, my heart sick with dread.

 

May was so much smaller that I could have picked her up and carried her.  She was a gentle, loving little thing, until some one went too far, and then they got what they deserved, all at once and right away.

 

Many of the pupils were waiting before the church.  Leon climbed the steps, made a deep bow, waved toward the school building across the way, and what he intended to say was, "Still sits the schoolhouse by the road," but he was a little excited and the s's doubled his tongue, so that we heard:  "Shill stits the schoolhouse by the road."  We just yelled and I forgot a little about myself.

 

When Miss Amelia came to the door and rang the bell, May must have remembered something of how her first day felt, for as we reached the steps she waited for me, took me in with her, and found me a seat.  If she had not, I'm quite sure I'd have run away and fought until they left me in freedom, as I had two years before.  All forenoon I had shivered in my seat, while classes were arranged, and the elder pupils were started on their work; then Miss Amelia called me to her on the platform and tried to find out how much schooling I had.  I was ashamed that I knew so little, but there was no sense in her making me spell after a pencil, like a baby.  I'd never seen the book she picked up.  I could read the line she pointed to, and I told her so, but she said to spell the words; so I thought she had to be obeyed, for one poetry piece I know says:

 

 

  "Quickly speed your steps to school

And there mind your teacher's rule."

 

 I can see Miss Amelia to-day.  Her pale face was lined deeper than ever, her drab hair was dragged back tighter.  She wore a black calico dress with white huckleberries, and a white calico apron figured in large black apples, each having a stem and two leaves.  In dress she was a fruitful person.  She had been a surprise to all of us.  Chipper as a sparrow, she had hopped, and chattered, and darted here and there, until the hour of opening.  Then in the stress of arranging classes and getting started, all her birdlike ways slipped from her.  Stern and bony she stood before us, and with a cold light in her pale eyes, she began business in a manner that made Johnny Hood forget all about his paper wads, and Leon commenced studying like a good boy, and never even tried to have fun with her.  Every one was so surprised you could notice it, except May, and she looked, "I told you so!" even in the back.  She had a way of doing that very thing as I never saw any one else.  From the set of her head, how she carried her shoulders, the stiffness of her spine, and her manner of walking, if you knew her well, you could tell what she thought, the same as if you saw her face.

 

I followed that pencil point and in a husky voice repeated the letters.  I could see Tillie Baher laughing at me from behind her geography, and every one else had stopped what they were doing to watch and listen, so I forgot to be thankful that I even knew my a b c's.  I spelled through the sentence, pronounced the words and repeated them without much thought as to the meaning; at that moment it didn't occur to me that she had chosen the lesson because father had told her how I made friends with the birds.  The night before he had been putting me through memory tests, and I had recited poem after poem, even long ones in the Sixth Reader, and never made one mistake when the piece was about birds.  At our house, we heard next day's lessons for all ages gone over every night so often, that we couldn't help knowing them by heart, if we had any brains at all, and I just loved to get the big folk's readers and learn the bird pieces.  Father had been telling her about it, so for that reason she thought she would start me on the birds, but I'm sure she made me spell after a pencil point, like a baby, on purpose to shame me, because I was two years behind the others who were near my age.  As I repeated the line Miss Amelia thought she saw her chance.  She sprang to her feet, tripped a few steps toward the centre of the platform, and cried:  "Classes, attention!  Our Youngest Pupil has just completed her first sentence.  This sentence contains a Thought.  It is a wonderfully beautiful Thought.  A Thought that suggests a great moral lesson for each of us.  `Birrrds--in their little nests--agreeee.'"

 

Never have I heard cooing sweetness to equal the melting tones in which Miss Amelia drawled those words.  Then she continued, after a good long pause in order to give us time to allow the "Thought" to sink in:  "There is a lesson in this for all of us.  We are here in our schoolroom, like little birds in their nest.  Now how charming it would be if all of us would follow the example of the birds, and at our work, and in our play, agreeee--be kind, loving, and considerate of each other.  Let us all remember always this wonderful truth:  `Birrrrds--in their little nests-- agreeeee!'"

 

In three steps I laid hold of her apron.  Only last night Leon had said it would come, yet whoever would have thought that I'd get a chance like this, so soon.

 

"Ho but they don't!" I cried.  "They fight like anything!  Every day they make the feathers fly!"

 

In a backward stroke Miss Amelia's fingers, big and bony, struck my cheek a blow that nearly upset me.  A red wave crossed her face, and her eyes snapped.  I never had been so surprised in all my life.  I was only going to tell her the truth.  What she had said was altogether false.  Ever since I could remember I had watched courting male birds fight all over the farm.  After a couple had paired, and were nest building, the father always drove every other bird from his location.  In building I had seen him pecked for trying to place a twig.  I had seen that happen again for merely offering food to the mother, if she didn't happen to be hungry, or for trying to make love to her when she was brooding.  If a young bird failed to get the bite it wanted, it sometimes grabbed one of its nestmates by the bill, or the eye even, and tried to swallow it whole.  Always the oldest and strongest climbed on top of the youngest and fooled his mammy into feeding him most by having his head highest, his mouth widest, and begging loudest.  There could be no mistake.  I was so amazed I forgot the blow, as I stared at the fool woman.

 

"I don't see why you slap me!" I cried.  "It's the truth!  Lots of times old birds pull out bunches of feathers fighting, and young ones in the nests bite each other until they squeal."

 

Miss Amelia caught my shoulders and shook me as hard as she could; and she proved to be stronger than you ever would have thought to look at her.

 

"Take your seat!" she cried.  "You are a rude, untrained child!"

 

"They do fight!" I insisted, as I held my head high and walked to my desk.

 

Leon laughed out loud, and that made everyone else.  Miss Amelia had so much to do for a few minutes that she forgot me, and I know now why Leon started it, at least partly.  He said afterward it was the funniest sight he ever saw.  My cheek smarted and burned.  I could scarcely keep from feeling to learn whether it were swelling, but I wouldn't have shed a tear or raised my hand for anything you could offer.

 

Recess was coming and I didn't know what to do.  If I went to the playground, all of them would tease me; and if I sat at my desk Miss Amelia would have another chance at me.  That was too much to risk, so I followed the others outdoors, and oh joy! there came Laddie down the road.  He set me on one of the posts of the hitching rack before the church, and with my arms around his neck, I sobbed out the whole story.

 

"She didn't understand," said Laddie quietly.  "You stay here until I come back.  I'll go explain to her about the birds.  Perhaps she hasn't watched them as closely as you have."

 

Recess was over before he returned.  He had wet his handkerchief at the water bucket, and now he bathed my face and eyes, straightened my hair with his pocket comb, and began unlacing my shoes.

 

"What are you going to do?" I asked.  "I must wear them.  All the girls do.  Only the boys are barefoot."

 

"You are excused," answered...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.3.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Anthologien
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Klassiker / Moderne Klassiker
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 1-4553-1757-8 / 1455317578
• ISBN-13: 978-1-4553-1757-8 / 9781455317578