Read Online Crane Pond by Richard Francis - Free Book Online Page B

and peas—’
    â€˜I myself once saw a trick performed with a pea.’
    Mr. Mather gives him another withering look. ‘And sieves and keys, there’s no end of household implements that can be used.’
    â€˜But these are only children’s games. Little Joseph plays with his farm toys for hours at a time. For him they are real. But no one else takes them seriously.’
    â€˜To play at farms is to be a farmer in miniature. The order of things is left intact.
These
children were trying to subvert that order.’
    â€˜But only in a childish way.’
    â€˜The Devil is always waiting to come into our world. And what he wishes for most is a soft entrance.’
    That word, Devil, gives Sewall a twinge of fear. He thinks of his own Betty. She too becomes prostrate when her imagination is fevered. She whispers in her dark cupboard of hell and damnation. She cries and rails and sobs. How readily could some outsider add up those clues and decide she is possessed? How terrible, to think of his little girl’s soul as the Devil’s soft entrance! ‘I find it hard to believe that the Devil can possess the soul of a child,’ he says.
    Just at this moment little Joseph enters the room, carrying his hornbook.
    â€˜Father—’
    â€˜Joseph, you know you should knock before entering my study.’ The boy ponders this for a moment then meekly trots back to the open door and knocks on its far side. ‘Come in, Joseph.’
    He trots back. ‘Father—’
    â€˜Joseph, I have a visitor, as you can see. Say good morning to Mr. Mather.’
    â€˜Good morning, Mr. Mather.’
    Mr. Mather, hands clasped behind his back, gravely inclines both head and wig.
    â€˜Father,’ says Joseph once more, with an infant’s patience (and persistence). He holds his little book up towards Sewall, who takes it.
    â€˜What is it you want me to see?’
    â€˜I’ve written my name.’
    Sewall bought the boy this primer from Michael Perry’s bookshop, near the Town House. Just last week he started attending dame school. It gave Sewall and Hannah a pang to see their little fellow, not yet four years old, with his hair brushed, his little frock crisp and clean, clutching his hornbook in one hand and his older sister Hannah’s hand with the other as she took him off for his first morning at Mrs. Townsend’s house. Both children exhibited a sort of diminutive self-importance, Joseph because of his first foray into the outside world, Hannah because of the responsibility of escorting her little brother.
    On the flyleaf Mrs. Townsend has printed out JOSEPH, HIS BOOK, and underneath the child has attempted to copy what she has written. He has only managed two letters, as a matter of fact. The first is J, which is leaning strangely, like a tipsy reveller resting against a wall (Sewall saw enough of these during the time he acted as a constable), and the other is a snakelike S. In fact the letter S is pictured as a snake in the hornbook’s alphabet, which suggests Joseph has conned his lesson.
    â€˜That is fine work, Joseph. See, Mr. Mather, the excellent J and S.’
    â€˜Very good indeed,’ says Mr. Mather, passing the book back to Joseph. ‘You are a forward towardly scholar and I hope, young man, that this is the first small vanguard of a host and multitude of letters that will sweep down from the high places—’ he raises an arm as if to point to a force of alphabetic Canaanites (or possibly Indians) gathered on the slopes, then lowers it in a grand sweeping motion— ‘and crowd your page.’ Joseph has looked up in bafflement, then down at his book as if hoping to spot a host and multitude already in occupation. Meanwhile Mr. Mather takes a penny from his pocket and gives it to him.
    â€˜Thank you, Mr. Mather,’ prompts Sewall.
    â€˜Thank you, Mr. Mather,’ chants Joseph, and scurries away.
    Cotton Mather has had