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Read Ebook: The Story of a Pumpkin Pie by Barton William E William Eleazar Willard Archibald M Illustrator
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Ebook has 86 lines and 7431 words, and 2 pages
Illustrator: A. M. Willard
THE STORY OF A PUMPKIN PIE
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE
The author and artist of this book are so much better known in connection with other kinds of literary and artistic work, that a word concerning its origin will be in order. Just before Christmas, 1897, Mr. Willard, the artist, sent to his friend Dr. Barton twenty pencil sketches illustrating the evolution of a pumpkin pie. Dr. Barton wrote some verses to accompany them for his own children. They gave so much pleasure to his little people and to others, and were enjoyed by so many older people as well, that the author and artist have consented to give them to other children.
Dr. Barton is well known as the author of more pretentious works in theology, history, and fiction, and Mr. Willard is known as the painter of "Yankee Doodle," the most famous patriotic picture painted in this country. His "Minute Men of the Revolution" is hardly less noted, and not less meritorious. His comical pictures also are widely known, with humor varying from the quiet Sunday smile that goes with "Pitching the Tune," to the rollicking, boisterous laugh belonging to "The Drummer's Latest Yarn."
But Mr. Willard first became known to the public as a painter of children. His first pictures to attract attention of the public were a pair called "Pluck," representing a homemade cart occupied by some little folks, and drawn by a dog in hot pursuit of a rabbit. These made their advent twenty odd years ago when the chromo was in its glory, and found their way into thousands of homes.
It is interesting to notice the recurrence of the theme in these pictures. There is still a dog, and the children must be a generation younger than those in "Pluck," but they are the same sturdy, industrious, plucky little people.
Mr. Willard's children are always wholesome and attractive. They are honest, happy, unspoiled little folks, full of fun and ingenuity, and good companions for boys and girls everywhere.
THE PUBLISHERS.
INTRODUCTION
This is the tale of a pumpkin pie And of Charlie and Fred. Just how and why They labored with their sister Nell And Towser helped, this book will tell.
All boys and girls who read it through Will know what they themselves should do. If they will work, and wait, and try, They, too, may have a pumpkin pie.
Where shines the sun with mellow light, And grass grows green and flowers are bright, There live our girl and jolly boys, In all the farm home's cares and joys.
They drive the cows adown the lot Where cool the creek, though days are hot; In health and happiness they dwell, And what they do I now will tell.
"Hurrah!" cried Carl, "the sun shines gay; The winter's gone. It's warm to-day! Let's gather sticks in the garden lot And make a jolly fire. Why not?"
Then out ran Fred, and Helen, too, And Towser came to help them through. They raked the sticks, the weeds they brought, And every brier and twig they sought.
It made a heap ere they did stop; Fred's head was lower than the top. They lit the pile, the flames rose high; They laughed to see the bright sparks fly!
Said Carl next day, "Now, Fred, we've found That we can work. Let's plow the ground. We'll make a garden all our own, And have a pumpkin in it grown."
A fork?d stick they quickly got, And started there to plow the lot. Carl was a horse, the dog another; The plowman was the younger brother.
They turned a furrow deep and wide, And Helen walked the plow beside; And Nell cried, "Gee!" and Fred said, "Whoa!" And merrily did the plowing go.
But though they toiled and did not shirk, Their plowing proved too much like work. The plow was dull, the harness frail, Their plowing seemed but doomed to fail.
Old Towser, who did not complain, Showed that he felt the heavy strain, And when they looked across the patch, Their furrow only seemed a scratch!
Carl panted hard and scratched his head. "I've had enough of that!" he said. And Helen said, "Wait, boys, I'll show You how to plow with spade and hoe!"
They dug away till almost noon, With spade and hoe and great big spoon. And Towser dug at a wee round hole, Pretending that he smelt a mole.
The hours sped by as if on wings; Swift goes the day that pleasure brings. And deep they dug the mellow soil, And raked it smooth with patient toil.
The noon bell rang; they cried, "Look here! See how we're digging, mother, dear! We're nearly through. It can't be noon! Keep dinner hot; we'll be there soon!"
How good the dinner was that day! It makes folks hungry, thus to play. They ate their fill of bread and meat, And mother smiled to see them eat.
Soon as the dinner-hour was done, Back to the garden did they run; And Helen bore, as swift she ran, Some pumpkin seeds in a small tin pan.
Fred dug a hole that was nice and round, And Charlie planted them in the ground; And Towser gazed as though he wanted To eat the pie before 'twas planted!
They waited for the seeds to start; And patience is as great an art As farming is; but you must know Without it pumpkins will not grow!
So many times they looked in vain, They thought they would not go again. Busy with other kinds of play, A week or more they stayed away.
They waited till they 'most forgot, But one day, crossing o'er the lot, They went to look, and cried, "At last They're up, and they are growing fast!"
Well, after that there was much to do, But day and night the wee vines grew. Each day they helped their mother dear, Each week some wonder did appear.
A yellow flower one day they found, In two weeks more a green ball round, That grew upon the pumpkin vine: And Carl and Fred cried, "This is fine!"
Fred watched it with an eager eye And said, "Now we shall have some pie!" And Helen called old Towser near And said, "A baby pumpkin, dear!"
So June passed on, and warm July, And up the corn grew rank and high; Beyond where they their seed had sown, The cornfield stretched, a forest grown.
Upon the fence the children sat With bare brown feet and torn straw hat. Between the corn-rows on the ground Their pumpkin lay, large, green, and round.
And Charlie said, "Our pumpkin soon Will be as big as the great round moon." And Towser peered o'er the fence so high With a knowing look in his wise old eye.
When autumn came, the children three, With books and lunch and noisy glee, Went off to school, their tasks to learn, And Towser waited their return.
And then, so short had grown the day, They had but little time for play, But drove the cows, the chickens fed, Then supper ate and went to bed.
But Saturdays they viewed their prize, And, lo, it grew to monstrous size! And autumn sunbeams shining down Colored the pumpkin golden brown.
Then came October clear and chill, With frosts that unripe pumpkins kill. They shivered in their beds so warm Lest Jack Frost should their pumpkin harm.
But by and by they all agreed Their pumpkin now was ripe indeed. And on the next bright Saturday, 'Twas warm, and fine for work or play,
They harnessed Towser to the cart And for the garden-lot did start. The pumpkin loaded they with skill, While Helen held old Towser still.
Behold the pumpkin borne in state Adown the field and toward the gate, With Helen perched upon its crest, And Towser doing quite his best!
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