Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1900-01-25
SAMMY'S QUIET DAY.
A BRIEF OUTLINE OF A FlvE-YEAR-
OLD'S DOINGS.
The Writer OF the Narrative Claims
II Has No Moral, but the Careful
leader VIII surely BE bic 10 Dis
cover One.

cover One.
Until his father started for the office
little Sammy was demure, quiet and a
model 5-year.old from every point OF
view. His father had barely got out Of
the front gate, however, before he began
by throwing the cat up among the ivy at
the side OF the house. He was of an ex-
perimental turn of mind, and he wanted
to sec il the cat would stick there. The
cat did stick there, and little Sammy
was prodding the cat with a broom han
die when his mother saw him. He de-
clincd to "come in" when she invited him
to do so, and she had to 90 after him.
He kicked her in the shins all the way
in and howled like a Kickapoo.
Ten minutes later he was out in front,
"jumpin street cars" against many sol
emn orders. He was brought in, blub-
bering, by n n~eighbor. His nose was
much skinned. His roars could be heard
a block. His mother vnselined and pet
ted him for half an hour and then turn
ed him loose again. The cook had a
bucket Of -four on a chair beside the
kitchen table, preparatory to making
bread. Little Sammy got a learning
to observe the coalescent properties OF
flour and water, so he dumped the ba-
sin of water that he got from beneath
the refrigerator into the bucket Of -four.
The cook, who had been in the back
yard, caught him in the act and dragged
him to his mother. The cook was Sc
verely kicked on the shins and bitten on
the hand all the way.
"Now, Sammy" said his mother, with
grave reproach.
Ten minutes later Sammy was discov-
cred in the act of painting his baby sis
ter's nose green and yellow and red and
purple with a toy brush and set Of colors
that belonged to his outfit Of playthings.
Sammy, my precious, why will you do
such naughty things inquired his moth
er, feeling of her aching head.
Awhile later, happening to pass
through the sitting room, his mother
found little Sammy industriously engag-
ed in cutting the buttons from the sur
face of the leather couch with a case
knife.
Sammy" said she, solemnly, II shall
spank you IL ever / catch you doing such
a thing again"
When a woman friend called upon her
Just before luncheon, clad In n handsome
white and black foulard dress, little Sam
my saw his opportunity. He sneaked
back to the kitchen, got hold of q damp
stick of stove polish, crept up on his
mothers visitor with an innocent express
sion of countenance and, suddenly reach
ing out. dabbed several big splotches Of
stove polish on the foulard dress.
"Why, Sammy Sleeveiinks, rent you
ashamed of YOURSELF" exclaimed his
mother, while Sammy, bursting with joy,
mndc for the back yard, and her visitors
face screwed up into a tight expression
that plainly said. "Oh, | wouldn't do q
thing to that one IL l owned him."
After luncheon little Sammy tried a lit.
tie experiment with his guinea pig. He
tied a piece Of rope around the guinea
pigs neck, filed a baby's bathtub with
water and dropped the guinea pig there
in. The guinea pig was only three parts
lead from drowning when little Sammy's
mother nailed him.
aren't you q bit sorry for the poor lit
tie piggy" she asked Sammy.
The above is only the merest outline Of
little Sammy's deviltries during the day.
He was demure and sweet and a quiet
angel child, in his nice little white duck
sailor suit, when his father got home
that evening from the office. He played
around with the beautiful innocence of
angel childhood while his father and
mother sat in the front yard after dinner.
AS thus they sat there two little 5-year-
old boys across the street. next door
%neighbors, got to belaboring each other
and yelling.
I'D just like to have the handling of
those whelps Of kids for about "a hours
said little Sammy's father to little Sam
my's mother.
We'll thank goodness gracious. our
little Sammy isn't like them said little
Sammy's mother. Hes mammals bless
ed little angel, that's what he is, and he
gives mamma no more trouble than
etc, etc.
Moral.-There isn't any.-Washington
Star.