prevailed. And nothing but an occasional giggle or a suppressed
whisper broke the quiet which followed the Saturday-night frolic,
as Mother Bhaer kissed her new boy and left him to happy dreams
of life at Plumfield.
CHAPTER II THE BOYS
While Nat takes a good long sleep, I will tell my little readers
something about the boys, among whom he found himself when he
woke up.
To begin with our old friends. Franz was a tall lad, of sixteen now,
a regular German, big, blond, and bookish, also very domestic,
amiable, and musical. His uncle was fitting him for college, and
his aunt for a happy home of his own hereafter, because she
carefully fostered in him gentle manners, love of children, respect
for women, old and young, and helpful ways about the house. He
was her right-hand man on all occasions, steady, kind, and patient;
and he loved his merry aunt like a mother, for such she had tried to
be to him.
Emil was quite different, being quick-tempered, restless, and
enterprising, bent on going to sea, for the blood of the old vikings
stirred in his veins, and could not be tamed. His uncle promised
that he should go when he was sixteen, and set him to studying
navigation, gave him stories of good and famous admirals and
heroes to read, and let him lead the life of a frog in river, pond,
and brook, when lessons were done. His room looked like the
cabin of a man-of-war, for every thing was nautical, military, and
shipshape. Captain Kyd was his delight, and his favorite
amusement was to rig up like that piratical gentleman, and roar out
sanguinary sea-songs at the top of his voice. He would dance
nothing but sailors’ hornpipes, rolled in his gait, and was as
nautical in conversation to his uncle would permit. The boys called
him “Commodore,” and took great pride in his fleet, which
whitened the pond and suffered disasters that would have daunted
any commander but a sea-struck boy.
Demi was one of the children who show plainly the effect of
intelligent love and care, for soul and body worked harmoniously
together. The natural refinement which nothing but home
influence can teach, gave him sweet and simple manners: his
mother had cherished an innocent and loving heart in him; his
father had watched over the physical growth of his boy, and kept
the little body straight and strong on wholesome food and exercise
and sleep, while Grandpa March cultivated the little mind with the
tender wisdom of a modern Pythagoras, not tasking it with long,
hard lessons, parrot-learned, but helping it to unfold as naturally
and beautifully as sun and dew help roses bloom. He was not a
perfect child, by any means, but his faults were of the better sort;
and being early taught the secret of self-control, he was not left at
the mercy of appetites and passions, as some poor little mortals
are, and then punished for yielding to the temptations against
which they have no armor. A quiet, quaint boy was Demi, serious,
yet cheery, quite unconscious that he was unusually bright and
beautiful, yet quick to see and love intelligence or beauty in other
children. Very fond of books, and full of lively fancies, born of a
strong imagination and a spiritual nature, these traits made his
parents anxious to balance them with useful knowledge and
healthful society, lest they should make him one of those pale
precocious children who amaze and delight a family sometimes,
and fade away like hot-house flowers, because the young soul
blooms too soon, and has not a hearty body to root it firmly in the
wholesome soil of this world.
So Demi was transplanted to Plumfield, and took so kindly to the
life there, that Meg and John and Grandpa felt satisfied that they
had done well. Mixing with other boys brought out the practical
side of him, roused his spirit, and brushed away the pretty cobwebs
he was so fond of spinning in that little brain of his. To be sure, he
rather shocked his mother when he came home, by banging doors,
saying “by George” emphatically, and demanding tall thick boots