Anti-firecracker leagues were taken up by many of the children's magazines and organizations in this era."Mother, mother, why does Miss Scott wear those horrid green goggles?" asked twelve-year-old Tom Dixon one summer's day, after the departure of that lady from a visit to his mother.
"Because her eyes are very sensitive to the light. She is nearly blind, my child."
"And what made her so, mamma? Was she always so blind?"
"No; she had as bright and as good eyes as you have, Tommy, when she was six years old."
"But what put 'em out, mother?" pursued the eager boy.
"Fire-crackers."
"Fire-crackers? How funny!"
"Close your eyes, Tom, so that you can't see. There, do you find it 'funny'?" asked his mother.
"No; I— I did n't mean funny. Maybe I meant queer. Any way, how did fire-crackers do it, mother?"
"It was on a Fourth of July. A boy in the street wanted to 'frighten the little girl,'—so he said,—and he threw a lighted bunch of fire-crackers at her. They exploded in her face and eyes. And now, the doctor says that at the end of another year she will be entirely blind, and can never, never again see the sunshine, nor anything."
Tom sat with a scared and solemn look on his little face. He could imagine nothing so terrible as to be blind.
"That was an awful, abominable thing to do; was it not, mamma?"
"Most abominable, indeed," she replied, smiling to herself at Tommy's large word.
"And what did they do to the boy, mamma?"
"I never knew, Tom, that anything was done to him. His father, I believe, paid quite a sum of money to Mr. Scott to pay doctors' bills, for the little girl was for a long time under the care of an oculist, which is a person who treats diseases of the eye. But the boy's family soon after moved away, and it was said to be on his account, for he was never happy after that. Every time that he saw Susy Scott, with her scarred face and her eyes shut in behind green glasses, and felt that he was the cause of it all, he could not bear it. Then, too, the boys and girls at school taunted him with it. After he left the village I heard nothing more of him. I dare say that he never again wanted to see, or hear, a fire-cracker."
Now Tommy, only the day before, had been teasing his papa for a supply of fire-crackers for the coming "Fourth," which was little more than a week off, and this story of Susy Scott was making his busy brain think of what it had never thought of before. And when a boy thinks, he asks questions.
"Mamma, did you ever hear of fire-crackers hurting anybody else?" he asked.
"Yes; a great many people. A fine, large, beautiful city in the State of Maine was destroyed some years ago by a fire kindled by a fire-cracker, and hundreds of people had their homes and all they possessed burned up. Suppose, Tom, that we look at your papa's files of daily papers and see if we can find a list of the accidents caused by firecrackers on the Fourth of July last year in the city," for the family lived in a little village not far from Philadelphia.
So upstairs went Tom and his mother, to the very top of the house, where the papa had a large room with books and great piles of newspapers and magazines. Finally, they found the Philadelphia Daily Trumpet for July, 1878.
"Now, we will look in the paper of July 5th," said the mother. "Here they are,—'Fourth of July Casualties,'" and Mrs. Dixon glanced down the long list of shot, burned, maimed, bruised persons with broken bones and broken heads, all resulting from Fourth of July powder. But as they were chiefly interested in fire-crackers,—those little red-coated, long-tailed powder-barrels that the Chinese so deftly make,—his mother said:
"I will make a skip, hop and jump down the line, Tommy, to read what the fire-crackers did, and you can follow me with your two ears. First:
"'A boy had his hands badly burnt.
"'A horse frightened, ran away—wagon broken—a man thrown out and his arm broken.
"'Another runaway—driver's shoulder dislocated.
"'A child frightened, and, while running excitedly across the street, was run over by a horse and wagon and horribly mangled.
"'A girl's dress set on fire; girl badly burned.
"'Another runaway. Lady thrown from her carriage—taken up for dead—carried to a hospital—life despaired of.
"'Another boy burnt about the face—disfigured probably for life.
"'A young woman burnt to death. A firecracker thrown at her feet set her light clothing on fire, and in a moment she was in flames. She died, two hours later, in great agony.'"
At this point Mrs. Dixon glanced at Tom. He sat with his face white as a sheet, his great black eyes shining wide with horror.
"I think- I've read enough, Tommy," said his mother.
"And as much bad happened in all the other large cities as in Philadelphia?" asked the boy.
"Yes; and in some places much more. If all the accidents in the whole country from firecrackers on the Fourth of July were put together, they would make a large book. Then, too, you must remember that many sick and nervous people are made worse by the noise and excitement, and sometimes die because of it. Don't you think it very strange, Tom, that boys are always wanting fire-crackers for the Fourth of July?"
"Did n't you ever hear of fire-crackers doing anybody good, mamma?" asked Tommy, not heeding his mother's question.
"Never, Tom."
Then Tom thought deeply for a moment.
"Do you s'pose, mamma, that anybody could have a regular Fourth of July without firecrackers?"
"Certainly, Tommy, I think so. It seems to me a very stupid way for American boys to celebrate the independence of their country by touching off Chinese powder. They ought to have wit enough to invent something themselves,—something more American, and that will not be a nuisance. What would you think of using firecrackers on Christmas?"
"That would be funny!" laughed the boy.
"But there are boys and girls," said his mother, "who would think Christmas a very poor Christmas without fire-crackers. At least, they did a few years ago, in some of the southern cities. But for a great many years after the Fourth of July was born, nobody celebrated the day with firecrackers. They came into fashion because merchants could buy them very cheaply from the Chinese, and could make a great deal of money by bringing them to this country and selling them to American boys to make a noise with. And I'm afraid that some boys, if they could, would trade their heads for a noise machine. But you see, Tommy, that the Fourth of July lived a good many years without the fire-crackers, and the boys and girls had just as fine a time then as now, and nobody hurt with powder."
"I should n't think that children's fathers-es and mothers-es would let them have fire-crackers," observed Tommy, shrewdly.
"Neither should I," laughed his mother. "l wonder why they do? I wish you would ask the boys that you know, how it happens."
And Tom began that very day.
As he was going to the post-office for the mail, he met two of his schoolmates, Jack Thompson and Frank Jones, and they began at once to talk about the Fourth.
"Father's going to give me seventy-five cents to buy fire-crackers," said Jack, "and Frank's going to have a lot, and Jim Barnes and Kit Lawson's going to put their funds into torpedoes,"—and he said "funds" as though they had a million or two of dollars to spend. "And what 'll you contribute, Tom? We 're all going to meet in the square and make things zip. There 'll be a regular swell time, you better believe."
"What makes your fathers-es give you money to buy fire-crackers?" asked Tom.
"Buy fire-crackers? And the Fourth o' July coming?" exclaimed Jack, in astonishment. "You don't know what you 're talking about, Tom Dixon! Why, a Fourth o' July without fire-crackers would be like a— a— a—"
"Yes, it would," added Frank, gravely, but with a twinkle in his merry brown eyes. "We should never survive it," at which the boys roared with laughter.
"But who ever heard of a Fourth o' July without crackers?" persisted Jack.
"I have," said Tom, a little proudly.
"And I, too," remarked a voice behind them. "If you 'll come over with me to the square, boys, and sit awhile on the bench, I 'll tell you all about it."
The speaker was good old Squire Lewis, who, the boys thought, was the oldest man in the world. He was eighty-six, and he remembered very well when the boys and girls he knew, who celebrated the Fourth of July, had never heard of fire-crackers. And after telling the boys about this, he went on to tell them how the day was celebrated when he was a boy—of the picnics in the woods—how the prettiest girl was dressed as a goddess of liberty, and the smartest boy delivered an oration; how they had flags and drums and a fife, and shouted and hurrahed until they were tired and hoarse, and glad enough, when night came, to tumble off into bed, and wait until next day to think what a jolly, jolly time they had had. And nobody was scared to death, nor burnt with powder. "We thought there had been enough people peppered with powder in the Revolutionary war; and why should we burn up any more in celebrating our victory?" concluded the Squire, looking at each of the three boys inquiringly.
"I'm down on fire-crackers and powder," said Tom, stoutly, rising to his feet and stuffing his hands in the side pockets of his linen coat. "That's the way Miss Scott got her eyes hurt," and he related how it happened.
This sad story, as Tom told it, seemed to make quite an impression upon the boys, although Jack contended that a boy must be a "born fool" to throw a bunch of lighted fire-crackers at a little girl in that way.'
But Tom did not stop with the Scott story. He stood in front of the bench and repeated all he could remember of what his mother had told him and read to him out of the last year's newspaper in the morning, and then the boys remembered having heard of the young woman who was burned to death by her dress having been set in a blaze by a fire-cracker.
Then, for a long time for boys,—fully a quarter of a minute,—nobody said anything. At last, Tom said:
"Say, s'posin' we get up a Union League on the cracker question?"
"A new Declaration of Independence," observed Frank, with a laugh.
"Very good! very good!" said Squire Lewis, thumping with his cane on the bench for applause. "Independence from China, this time!" with more applause.
"But what'll we do with our funds?" asked Jack, financially.
"Put 'em into ice cream," said Frank, and then, as if catching at a brand-new idea, he hopped up and stood by Tom. "I 'll tell you what! Let's say nothing to our' folks about it, only make sure of our money—the money for the fire-crackers, you know. Then let's take that cash and give a Fourth of July ice-cream party and invite the— the girls."
"But where'd we have it?" asked Jack, who was always seeing lions in the way.
"Let me fix that," said the old Squire. "You invite your girls and order your ice cream, and come around to my house on the morning of the Fourth,—say half a dozen of you. Trust me that you 'll have the best Fourth of July that ever you had. And I 'll keep your secret, boys."
"And where 'll we get our half-dozen? All the other boys 'll want to have fire-crackers. They 'll never give them up. You 'll see." Of course it was Doubting Jack who said that.
"Call a mass meeting of the boys!" said Tom. "That's the way big folks do. Get the boys together, say, to-morrow afternoon. We can meet behind papa's carriage house. Nobody 'll hear us talk there."
"And we 'll have Tom, here, to be our Daniel Webster of the meeting," said the ever-ready Frank. "He can tell 'em what he got off to-day to us about fire-crackers, and that we propose to strike out in a new line this year and use our firecracker and torpedo money for something else, and that every boy who wants to join us can do so, by twisting our two thumbs and putting his Fourth of July money into our bag. Then we 'll 'point a committee, and there 's where we '1l get our half-dozen. I know as many as eight boys who I 'm pretty sure will join."
"Exactly," said Tom, as if feeling sure that Frank's argument was a "clincher." Then, after some further arrangements for the "mass meeting," and more encouraging words from old Squire Lewis, the boys separated, and Tom, remembering that he had left home to go to the post-office, ran off at full speed.
To tell the story of the next few days would take too long. The mass meeting was quite a success, and Tom's speech sounded better than ever. Most of the boys agreed to the new plan; they were willing to try it for once, at least, to see how it would go ; for no boy, however full of life and fun, takes pleasure in doing what causes harm, and often great suffering. No really manly boy, I mean—only the cowards do that. A manly and truly brave boy always has a tender heart, and is thoughtful, too. Several of the boys who did not join the League that day, joined afterward in time for the "Fourth."
The "Fourth" was a lovely day, as it proved, and the "committee," with Squire Lewis, arranged chairs and tables under the wide-spreading apple trees in his garden. This "committee" proved to be a very wonderful committee, for, after it began to think, it thought of a great many things,—of begging bouquets from the ladies of the village, of wheedling mothers and sisters into baking sponge cakes for an affair that must be kept a profound secret, and Mrs. Dixon was waited upon to know if she would kindly train ten boys to sing some patriotic pieces, for Tom could play the organ, you see. So, when the day came, the time had been so well improved that the committee had everything "just splendid," as the girls said, flowers and music and everything. Tom had his organ there, and the boys sang really very well; at all events, they made a respectable noise and were loudly cheered, and the cake and ice cream were all right.
The girls, who were invited to come to Squire Lewis's garden gate at four o'clock P. M., were half afraid of a hoax, and were "dying" to know what it all meant. But when the flag went up in the garden, the secret of the week began to leak out, and a very nice secret everybody thought it, too. The "fathers-es" and "mothers-es," as Tom respectfully called the parents, declared it was the most respectable "Fourth" they had ever known. And when they came to know about the Anti-Firecracker League, then every one declared that in future they would double the young folks' Fourth of July money as long as they put it to such a charming use.
And that was the way Tom's reform began. This coming "Fourth," the Anti-Fire-cracker-League-Fourth-of-July party is expected to be a great deal better than the one of last year.
It will be held in the large garden of the Dixons' house, for good old Squire Lewis is no longer alive to invite the boys to his garden. One of the last things he talked about was that Fourth of July party. He was glad that he had lived to see it, and by his will he gave a five-dollar gold piece each to Tom Dixon, Frank Jones and Jack Thompson.
But I don't think Jack deserved his so much as did the others. Do you?
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