måndag 15 november 2010


Little David came running home from school one winter afternoon. As he passed through the yard, he saw the door of the cellar-kitchen standing open, and heard some one down in the cellar, pounding, thump, thump, thump.

Little David ran down the steps to see who it was.

He saw a great blazing fire in the wide fireplace, and three big pots hanging on the crane over it; and his mamma, Leah, Jane, and Aunt Jinny, making sausages; and John Bigbee, the colored boy, with a wooden mortar between his knees, and an iron-pestle in his hand, pounding, thump, thump, thump, in the mortar.

Little David ran to John, and asked, "What's in there?" but did not wait for an answer. He drew in his breath as hard as he could, and blew into the mortar with all his might.

A cloud of fine black pepper flew up into his mouth, nose, and eyes. How he did sneeze and strangle and cry!

Leah ran for a basin of cold water. His mamma got a soft linen cloth, and washed away all the pepper and most of the pain.

When he stopped crying, she said, "Little David, don't meddle."

D. D. H

2 kommentarer:

  1. Inte lätt att vara liten och vilja veta vad som finns i korvarna. Svårt att låta bli att blanda sig i:).
    Ljuvlig liten anekdot/berättelse.
    Mycket beskrivande, man kan känna både dofter och stämning.


  2. Karin,
    Ja, och en moralisk knorr måste det ju alltid vara. Fast jag tror barn har en fantastisk förmåga att bortse från moralen i berättelser - i alla fall gjorde jag alltid det.