The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb Read Online Free PDF Page A

mossy scent of new grass, and my skirt was damp where I had kneeled on it. But my name was now plainly visible; I smiled in satisfaction, brushed my hands off on my skirt, and continued my walk. My fierce desire soon faded away into the twilight; the air grew chilly, and I saw the warm, beckoning lights of home twinkle on, one by one, as Mama began to light the lamps, which shone, at that moment, more brightly than the faint stars on the horizon.
    And then I heard Minnie calling, in her surprisingly strong, clear voice, “Vinnie! Where are you? I want to show you the most beautiful four-leaf clover I found!”
    I smiled, for I knew she would be standing in the doorway looking for me, clutching that clover in her tiny fist until I came back, no matter how long I might take. So I was content to turn around and return home, content with what I knew was waiting for me there.
    So it was that when we broke for vacation that spring of 1858—remember that at the time, country schools were open only during winter and summer, as the children were expected to help with farmwork—I truly had no plans other than to enjoy my time off, sleep in later than usual, and make some new dresses for the upcoming term.
    An unexpected knock on our door one afternoon soon revealed that God—not to mention P. T. Barnum—had other plans for me, instead.

INTERMISSION
 
    From
The New York Times
, January 25, 1853
    Of domestic news, we have fewer shipwrecks, murders, defalcations and deaths to record than usual.

    From
The New York Times
, March 2, 1853
    The construction of a Magnetic Telegraph line to the Pacific Ocean is only second in importance to the project of a railroad across the continent to its western shore. The subject is before Congress; and even at this eleventh hour, a united, determined effort of its friends, and a few minutes of the time now so valuable, will be sufficient to secure the immediate initiative and early consummation of the work.

[ TWO ]
 

Leaving Home, or an Interlude of Heart-Tugging
Music and Recitation
    I ’VE GOT YOU IN HERE WITH M ISS H ARDY . S HE’S A TROUPER; she’ll show you the ropes,” Colonel Wood said as he led me through a narrow, damp passageway. On either side were closed doors to various staterooms. Beneath us was the great engine of the boat, silent for now, as we were still docked. The green carpet in the passageway was dirty and smelled of mildew; the paint on the walls was chipped and dotted with mold. I was perspiring so in the humid, dank air that I could well imagine mold beginning to grow on
me;
my skin felt plastered to my underclothes and uncomfortable corset that still did not fit properly.
    “Oh.”
    “She’s simple enough, so don’t let her appearance scare you any.”
    “Oh.”
    “Now, I know I promised your folks I’d see to you myself, butI run a mighty big outfit here; I’m a very important man, you’ll soon see. So don’t come runnin’ to me with every little thing. You’ll have to stand on your own two feet, as tiny as they are.” The Colonel chortled at this.
    “Oh.”
    This one word was all that I had uttered for days; weeks, even, it seemed to me. Ever since I bade my family a tearful farewell just as the fields were ready for plowing. It was late April now, and here in Cincinnati the air was already as balmy as summer, and the wide, muddy Ohio River did not look as if it could ever freeze completely over.
    “Here you go—shove on in now, your trunk’ll get delivered later.” Without even knocking, Colonel Wood opened the door to a stateroom; he held it open for me in one of the few gentlemanly gestures I had observed from him during our brief acquaintance. I arranged my face into a pleasant, welcoming smile, then stepped with assurance across the threshold to meet my new traveling companion, my hand already thrust out in greeting.
    “Hello, my name is Miss Lavini—Oh!” I couldn’t help myself; I stopped dead in my tracks, all sensible notions drained