"ElizaLeeFollen-TheTalkativeWig" - читать интересную книгу автора (Follen Eliza Lee)

them up, and looked at them for some minutes before she took any
thing out. At last, she began to examine their contents. When she
came to her chicken and flour and raisins, in the very papers in
which she had wrapped them; she looked up and clasped her hands with
such astonishment, with such a look of wonder and gratitude, that
the boys, in their glee, laughed outright, and so loud that she
heard them.

She ran to the window, but they were gone; and she never knew how it
was that her chicken and flour brought her back seven fold.

When next the cook went to see her, with me on,--I was every body's
cloak,--the old lady told her the whole story of finding the chicken
and flour, and so many other good things with them. The secret was
kept; and it was Granny Horton's firm faith that it was the wings of
angels she heard when she went to the window. Indeed she thought she
had seen the wings, for as Willie turned to run, he forgot to hold
me tight, and the wind blew me up so as to hide him entirely, and
she took me for great dark wings.

I fear you may be weary of my story. I have much more that I could
relate, but I have already been too long.

I am, as you see, ragged and worn, but the dear family have an
affection for me still, as well as for all the rest of us; and so I
am allowed to remain here in this most respectable company. I trust
the wig will now give us his history for which we have waited so
long."

"There is time enough before eight o'clock for the story of the
wig," said Frank, "if you can remember it, Mother. He ought to tell
his story now, as he promised."

"As the wig began to speak," said their mother, "he gave a slight
hitch on one side, just as if some one pushed him up a little, and
then, after a short pause, began thus: "You will be astonished,
perhaps, to know that it is more than a hundred years since I first
saw the light. None of you have lived so long, or seen as much as I
have. I cannot tell all I have seen or known. It would take too
long, and weary you too much. I can only give a slight sketch of my
long life.

In the year seventeen hundred and fifty, the baby head upon which I
grew came into this strange world in which we live. O, how happy was
the mother who saw me for the first time! How full was her joy when
she stroked the small head of her little girl, and exclaimed, "How
beautiful and soft her hair is! softer than velvet or satin." Even
then, every one said, "What a beautiful head of hair! What a lovely
baby!"