The Story of a Bad Boy

etc., though it by no means follows that they are inhabited by the people whose names they bear -- the Nutter House, to resume, has been in our family nearly a hundred years, an

ship don't often come togeth

ngs about the mantel-pieces and cornices. The walls are covered with pictured paper, representing landscapes and sea-views. In the parlor, for example, this enlivening figure is repeated all over the room. A group of English peasants, wearing Italian hats, are dancing on a lawn that abruptly resolves itself into a sea-beach, upon which stands a flabb

useum of curiosities is the garret of a well-regulated New England house of fifty or sixty years' standing. Here meet together, as if by some preconcerted arrangement, all the broken-down chairs of the household, all the spavined tables, all the seedy hats, all the intoxicated-looking boots, all the split walking-sticks that have retired from business, "wear

s, and are all dead now, excepting one, which bears a purple plum as big as an egg. This tree, as I remark, is still standing, and a more beautiful tree to tumble out of never grew anywhere. In the northwestern corner of the garden were the stables and carriage-house opening upon a narrow lane. You may imagine that I made an early visit to

surroundings gave me more satisfaction than the cosey sleeping apartment t

ired in that line. On a gray background were small bunches of leaves, unlike any that ever grew in this world; and on every other bunch perched a yellow-bird, pitted with crimson spots, as if it had just recovered from a severe attack of the small-pox. That no such bird ever existed did not detract from my admiration of each one. There were two hund

coffin, constituted the furniture. Over the head of the bed were two oak shelves, holding perhaps a dozen books -- among which were Theodore, or The Peruvians;

ran into my fingers' ends then has not run out yet. Many a time did I steal up to this nest of a room, and, taking the dog's-eared volume from its shelf, glide off into an enchanted realm, where there were no lessons to get and no boys to smash my kite

who used to lean above the magic pages hour after hour, religiously believing every word he read, and no more doubting the

been accidentally twisted off, it was not, perhaps, the most dangerous weapon that could be placed in the hands of youth. In this maimed condition its "bump of destructiveness" was much less tha

e Nutter family naturally follows. The family consisted of my grandfather

ut one of our family who didn't run away to sea, and this one died at his birth. My grandfather had also been a soldier -- a captain of militia in 1812. If I owe the British nation anything, I owe thanks to that particular British soldier who put a musket-ball into the fleshy

enemy try to effect a landing. Captain Nutter had charge of a slight earthwork just outside the mouth of the river. Late one thick night the sound of oars was heard; the sentinel tried to fire off his gun at half-cock, and couldn't, when Captain Nutter sp

nd bold conduct was instrumental in teaching the enemy the hopelessness of

Abigail, managing his household. Miss Abigail also managed her brother, and her brother's servant, and the visitor at her brother's gate -- not in a tyrannical spirit, but from a philanthropic desire to be useful to everybod

were those people. If ever two people really loved each other, Miss Abigail and Kitty Collins we

Kitty; and in the course of their disagreements

d in this singular garb -- I do not remember that Kitty alluded to -- any additional peculiarity of dress -- Miss Abigail had made her appearance at the door of the Nutter House on the morning of my grandmother's funeral. The small amount of baggage which the lady brought with her wo

ily is a problem. He was very kind always to Miss Abigail, and seldom opposed her; though I

Ireland. In consequence of various calamities, among which the failure of the potato-crop may be mentioned, Miss Kitty Collins, in company with several hun

but turn up she did, a few months after arriving in this country, and was hired by my g

of a secret which had been weighing upon it all that time. It may be said of people, as it is said

oken at the thought of separating from her kindly protector; but they were not to part just yet, for the sailor returned Kitty's affection, and the two were married on their arrival at port. Kitty's husband -- she would never mention his name, but kept i

or four dollars left in the toe of it. Then Kitty was troubled; for she knew her sailor would have to go to sea again unless he could get emplo

bbed Kitty, telling the story, "kissed me goodby, and, Heaven

f him? Had he been murdered? Had he fallen into the docks? Had he -- deserted her? No! She could not believe th

a servant. The family she lived with shortly moved to Boston, and she accompanied them; then they went abroad, but Kitty would not leave America. Somehow she drifte

sorrows -- a faithful nurse, a willing slave, a happy spirit in spite of all. I fancy I hear her singing over her work in the kitchen, pausing from time to time to make some witty reply to Miss A