The Story of Tommy
Tucker
Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper.
What did he sing for? white bread and
butter.
How
could he cut it, without any knife?
How
could he marry, without any wife?
LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER was a waif of the streets. He never remembered having a father or mother or any one to care for him, and so he
learned to care for himself. He ate whatever he could get, and slept
wherever
night overtook him — in an old barrel, a cellar, or, when fortune
favored him, he
paid a penny for a cot in some rude lodging-house.
His
life about the streets taught him early how to earn a living by doing
odd jobs,
and he learned to be sharp in his speech and wise beyond his years.
One
morning Tommy crawled out from a box in which he had slept over night,
and
found that he was hungry. His last meal had consisted of a crust of
bread, and
he was a growing boy with an appetite. He had been unable to earn any
money for
several days, and this morning life looked very gloomy to him. He
started out
to seek for work or to beg a breakfast; but luck was against him, and
he was unsuccessful.
By noon he had grown more hungry than before, and stood before a
bake-shop for
a long time, looking wistfully at the good things behind the
window-panes, and
wishing with all his heart he had a ha’penny to buy a bun.
And
yet it was no new thing for Little Tommy Tucker to be hungry, and he
never
thought of despairing. He sat down upon a curb-stone, and thought what
was best
to be done. Then he remembered he had frequently begged a meal at one
of the cottages
that stood upon the outskirts of the city, and so he turned his steps
in that
direction.
“I
have had neither breakfast nor dinner,” he said to himself, “and I must
surely
find a supper somewhere, or I shall not sleep much to-night. It is no
fun to be
hungry.”
So
he walked on until he came to a dwelling-house where a goodly company
sat upon
a lawn and beneath a veranda. It was a pretty place, and was the home
of a fat
alderman who had been married that very day.
The
alderman was in a merry mood, and seeing Tommy standing without the
gate he
cried to him,
"Come
here, my lad, and sing us a song.”
Tommy
at once entered the grounds, and came to where the fat alderman was
sitting
beside his blushing bride.
“Can
you sing?” enquired the alderman.
“No,”
answered Tommy, earnestly, “but I can eat.”
"Ho,
ho!” laughed the alderman, “that is a very ordinary accomplishment.
Anyone can
eat.”
“If
it please you, sir, you are wrong,” replied Tommy, “for I have been
unable to
eat all day.”
“And
why is that?” asked the alderman.
"Because
I have had nothing to put to my mouth. But now that I have met so kind
a
gentleman, I am sure that I shall have a good supper.”
The
alderman laughed again at this shrewd answer, and said,
“You
shall have supper, no doubt; but you must sing a song for the company
first,
and so earn your food.”
Tommy
shook his head sadly.
"I
do not know any song, sir,” he said.
The
alderman called a servant and whispered something in his ear. The
servant
hastened away, and soon returned bearing upon a tray a huge slice of
white
bread and butter. White bread was a rare treat in those days, as nearly
all the
people ate black bread baked from rye or barley flour.
"Now,”
said the alderman, placing the tray beside him, “you shall have this
slice of
white bread and butter when you have sung us a song, and complied with
one
condition.”
“And
what is that condition?” asked Tommy.
"I
will tell you when we have heard the song,” replied the fat alderman,
who had
decided to have some amusement at the boy’s expense.
Tommy
hesitated, but when he glanced at the white bread and butter his mouth
watered
in spite of himself, and he resolved to compose a song, since he did
not know
how to sing any other.
So
he took off his cap, and standing before the company he sang as follows:
"A
bumble-bee lit on a hollyhock flower
That was wet with the rain of a morning shower.
While
the honey he sipped
His
left foot slipped,
And he couldn’t fly again for half an hour!”
“Good!” cried the alderman, after the company
had
kindly applauded Tommy. “I can’t say much for the air, nor yet for the
words;
but it was not so bad as it might have been. Give us another verse.” So
Tommy
pondered a moment, and then sang again:
“A spider
threw its web so high
It
caught on a moon in a cloudy sky.
The moon whirled round.
And
down to the ground
Fell the
web, and captured a big blue fly!”
“Why, that is fine!” roared the fat alderman.
“You
improve as you go on, so give us another verse.”
“I
don’t know any more,” said Tommy, “and I am very hungry.”
“One
more verse,” persisted the man, “and then you shall have the bread and
butter
upon the condition.” So Tommy sang the following verse:
“A
big frog lived in a slimy bog,
And caught a cold in an awful fog.
The cold got worse,
The
frog got hoarse,
Till croaking he scared a polliwog!"
“You are quite a poet,” declared the alderman;
“and now you shall have the white bread upon one condition.”
“What
is it?” said Tommy, anxiously.
"That
you cut the slice into four parts.”
“But
I have no knife!” remonstrated the boy.
"But
that is the condition,” insisted the alderman.
“If
you want the bread you must cut it.”
“Surely
you do not expect me to cut the bread without any knife!” said Tommy.
“Why
not?” asked the alderman, winking his eye at the company.
"Because
it cannot be done. How, let me ask you, sir, could you have married
without any
wife?”
“Ha,
ha, ha!” laughed the jolly alderman; and he was so pleased with Tommy’s
apt
reply that he gave him the bread at once, and a knife to cut it with.
“Thank
you, sir,” said Tommy; “now that I have the knife it is easy enough to
cut the
bread, and I shall now be as happy as you are with your beautiful wife.”
The
alderman’s wife blushed at this, and whispered to her husband. The
alderman
nodded in reply, and watched Tommy carefully as he ate his supper. When
the boy
had finished his bread — which he did very quickly, you may be sure, —
the man
said,
"How
would you like to live with me and be my servant?”
Little
Tommy Tucker had often longed for just such a place, where he could
have three
meals each day to eat and a good bed to sleep in at night, so he
answered,
"I
should like it very much, sir.”
So
the alderman took Tommy for his servant, and dressed him in a smart
livery; and
soon the boy showed by his bright ways and obedience that he was worthy
any
kindness bestowed upon him.
He
often carried the alderman’s wig when his master attended the town
meetings,
and the mayor of the city, who was a good man, was much taken with his
intelligent face. So one day he said to the alderman,
"I
have long wanted to adopt a son, for I have no children of my own; but
I have
not yet been able to find a boy to suit me. That lad of yours looks
bright and
intelligent, and he seems a well-behaved boy into the bargain.”
"He
is all that you say,” returned the alderman, “and would be a credit to
you
should you adopt him.”
"But
before I adopt a son,” continued the mayor, “I intend to satisfy myself
that he
is both wise and shrewd enough to make good use of my money when I am gone. No fool will serve my purpose;
therefore I shall test the boy’s wit before I decide.”
“That
is fair enough,” answered the alderman;
“but
in what way will you test his wit?”
"Bring
him to my house to-morrow, and you shall see,” said the mayor.
So
the next day the alderman, followed by Tommy and a little terrier dog
that was
a great pet of his master, went to the grand dwelling of the mayor. The
mayor
also had a little terrier dog, which was very fond of him and followed
him
wherever he went. When Tommy and the alderman reached the mayor’s house
the
mayor met them at the door and said:
“Tommy,
I am going up the street, and the alderman is going in the opposite
direction.
I want you to keep our dogs from following us; but you must not do it
by
holding them.”
“Very
well, sir,” replied Tommy; and as the mayor started one way and the
alderman
the other, he took out his handkerchief and tied the tails of the two
dogs
together. Of course each dog started to follow its master; but as they
were
about the same size and strength, and each pulled in a different
direction, the
result was that they remained in one place, and could not move either
one way
or the other.
“That
was well done,” said the mayor, coming back again; "but tell me, can
you
put my cart before my horse and take me to ride?”
“Certainly,
sir,” replied Tommy; and going to the mayor’s stable he put the harness
on the
nag and then led him head-first into the shafts, instead of backing him
into them,
as is the usual way. After fastening the shafts to the horse, he
mounted upon the
animal’s back, and away they started, pushing the cart before the horse.
“That
was easy,” said Tommy. “If your honor will get into the cart I'll take
you to
ride.” But the mayor did not ride, although he was pleased at Tommy’s
readiness
in solving a difficulty.
After
a moment’s thought he bade Tommy follow him into the house, where he
gave him a
cupful of water, saying,
"Let
me see you drink up this cup of water.”
Tommy
hesitated a moment, for he knew the mayor was trying to catch him;
then, going
to a corner of the room, he set down the cup and stood upon his head in
the
corner. He now carefully raised the cup to his lips and slowly drank
the water
until the cup was empty. After this he regained his feet, and, bowing
politely
to the mayor, he said,
"The
water is drunk up, your honor.”
"But
why did you stand on your head to do it?” enquired the alderman, who
had
watched the act in astonishment.
"Because
otherwise I would have drunk the water down, and not up,” replied Tommy.
The
mayor was now satisfied that Tommy was shrewd enough to do him honor,
so he
immediately took him to live in the great house as his adopted son, and
he was
educated by the best masters the city afforded.
And
Tommy Tucker became in after years not only
a great, but a good man, and before he died was himself mayor of the
city, and
was known by the name of Sir Thomas Tucker.
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