The Looking-Glass Children

________________________________________________
Title:     The Looking-Glass Children
Author: Joel Chandler Harris [More Titles by Harris]

The frame of the mirror was of dark wood, curiously carved, and it was set on pivots between two small but stout upright posts, made of the same kind of wood. As Mrs. Meadows brought the looking-glass out, it swung back and forth between these posts, and its polished surface shone with great brilliancy. The children wondered how they were to amuse themselves with this queer toy. Mrs. Meadows placed the looking-glass a little way from them, but not facing them. The frame was in profile, so that they could see neither the face nor the back of the mirror.

"You come first," she said to Buster John.

He went forward, and Mrs. Meadows placed him in front of the looking-glass. As he turned to face it, his reflection (as it seemed) stepped from the mirror and stared at him. Buster John looked at Mrs. Meadows for an explanation, but at that moment she beckoned to Sweetest Susan. When Buster John moved, his image moved. Mrs. Meadows pushed him gently aside to make room for Sweetest Susan, and it seemed that some invisible hand pushed his reflection gently aside.

Sweetest Susan stepped before the looking-glass, and her reflection walked out to meet her. Drusilla now came forward, and her image stepped forth, looking somewhat scared and showing the whites of its eyes. Mrs. Meadows went to the looking-glass, gave it a sudden turn on its pivots, and carried it into the house.

All this happened so rapidly that the children hardly had time to be surprised, but now that the looking-glass had been carried away and they were left with their reflections, their shadows, their images (or whatever it was), they didn't know what to do, or say, or think. They could only look at each other in dumb astonishment. Drusilla was the first to break the silence. In her surprise she had moved quickly back a few steps, and her image, which had come out of the looking-glass, had as quickly moved forward and toward her a few steps.

"Don't come follerin' atter me!" she cried excitedly. "Kaze ef you do, you'll sho' git hurted. I ain't done nothin' 't all ter you. I ain't gwine ter pester you, an' I ain't gwine ter let you pester me. I tell you dat now, so you'll know what ter 'pen' on."

"Don't move! Please don't move!" cried Sweetest Susan to Buster John. "If you do I can't tell you apart. I won't know which is which. That wouldn't be treating me right nor Mamma, either."

Naturally, the children were in a great predicament when Mrs. Meadows came back. She saw the trouble at once, and began to laugh. It was funny to see Buster John and Sweetest Susan and Drusilla standing there staring first at the Looking-Glass children and then at themselves, not daring to move for fear they would get mixed up with their doubles. The Looking-Glass children stared likewise, first at themselves and then at the others.

"What is the matter?" Mrs. Meadows asked. "Why don't you go and play with one another and make friends? It isn't many folks that have the chance you children have got."

"I don't feel like playing," said Sweetest Susan. "I'm afraid we'll get mixed up so that nobody will know one from the other."

"Why, there's all the difference in the world," exclaimed Mrs. Meadows, trying hard not to laugh. "The Looking-Glass children are all left-handed. You have a flower on the left side of your hat, the other Susan has a flower on the right side of hers. Your brother there has buttons on the right side of his coat; the other John has buttons on the left side. There is a flaw in the looking-glass, and Drusilla, being a little taller than you two, was just tall enough for the end of her nose to be even with the flaw. That's the reason the other Drusilla's nose looks like it had been mashed with a hammer."

"Yes 'm, it do!" exclaimed Drusilla. She involuntarily took a step forward to take a nearer view of the flawed nose, and of course the other Drusilla took a step forward as if to show the flawed nose. "Don't you dast ter come 'bout me!" exclaimed Drusilla. "Goodness knows, I don't look dat away. Go on, now! Go 'ten' ter yo' own business ef you got any."

"I don't want to play with you," said the other Drusilla. "You've got smut on your face. I don't like to play with dirty-faced girls."

"My face cleaner'n yone dis blessed minnit," retorted Drusilla.

"And your hair is not combed," said the other Drusilla. "It is wrapped with strings, and you couldn't comb it if you wanted to. I think it is a shame."

"Look at yo' own head!" retorted Drusilla angrily. "It's mo' woolly dan what mine is. 'T ain't never been kyarded much less combed. An' who got any mo' strings roun' der hair dan you got on yone?"

"How could I help it?" the other Drusilla asked. "You came and looked at me in the glass and I had to be just like you, smutty face and all. I don't think it is right. I know I never looked like this before, and I hope I never shall again."

"Tut, tut!" said Mrs. Meadows; "don't get to mooning around here. You might look better, but you don't look so bad. It will all come right on wash-day, as the woman said when she put her dress on wrong side outwards. Here comes Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes. They'll be glad to see you, no matter how you look."

And they were. They ran to the Looking-Glass children and greeted them warmly. Tickle-My-Toes stared at the other Drusilla in surprise, but he didn't laugh at her. "You look as if you had fallen down the chimney," he said, "but that doesn't make any difference. So long as you are here, we are satisfied."

"Oh, I don't mind it," said the other Drusilla.

"Now, then," remarked Mrs. Meadows, "you couldn't please us better than to sing us a song. You haven't practiced together for a long time."

The other children looked at one another in a shamefaced way, and then, without a word of objection or explanation, they began to sing as with one voice, the most plaintive song that ever was heard. It may be called:--

THE LOOKING-GLASS SONG.

It's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

Oh, what could you say and what could you do
If you lived all alone in the toe of a shoe?
You could hop, you could skip, you could jump, you could dance,
And you'd hear very little of "shouldn'ts" and "shan'ts."
You could stump your big toe, and it would never get hurt;
You could kick up the sand, you could play in the dirt.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

Oh, what could you do, and what would you say
If you lived in the pantry all night and all day?
You could say it was jolly, and splendid, and nice;
You could eat all the jelly, and frighten the mice.
You could taste the preserves, you could nibble the cheese--
You could smell the red pepper, and sit down and sneeze.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

Oh, what could you do if you lived under ground?
You could ride Mr. Mole and go galloping round;
You could hear the black cricket a-playing his fife,
For to quiet the baby and please his dear wife.
You could hear the green grasshopper frying his meat,
Near the nest of the June-Bug under the wheat.
You could get all the goobers and artichokes, too--
You could peep from the window the grub-worm went through.

But it's oh! and it's ah! It's alack! and alas!
Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!

"Oh, I think that is splendid," cried Sweetest Susan.

"Mr. Rabbit doesn't like it much," replied Mrs. Meadows, "but I tell him it is pretty good for children that were raised in a Looking-Glass."

"It will do very well," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "but you'll hear nicer songs by the time you are as old as I am."

"Dem ar white chillun done mighty well," said Drusilla, "but I don't like de way dat ar nigger gal hilt her head."

"Do they have to stay in the looking-glass?" asked Buster John. "If they do I'm sorry for them."

"I ain't sorry fer dat black gal," said Drusilla spitefully. "She too ugly ter suit me."

"Whose fault is it but yours?" cried Chickamy Crany Crow.

"Yes, whose fault is it?" cried Tickle-My-Toes.

"Come, come!" cries Mrs. Meadows. "We want no trouble here."

"We'll not trouble her," answered Tickle-My-Toes. "Old Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones will do the troubling."

"Now you all heah dat!" exclaimed Drusilla, in some alarm. "I ain't pesterin' nobody, an' I ain't doin' nothin' 't all. Ef I can't talk I des ez well quit livin'. I'm gwine home, I am, an' ef I can't fin' de way, den I'll know who'll have ter answer fer it."

"Well, if you go," said Mrs. Meadows, "you'll have company. The other black girl will have to go too."

"How come dat?" exclaimed Drusilla.

"It would take me too long to tell you," replied Mrs. Meadows. "Why does your shadow in a looking-glass make every motion that you make? Because it's obliged to--that's all. That's just the reason the other black girl would follow you."

"Don't mind Drusilla," said Buster John. "She just talks to hear herself talk. Her mouth flies open before she knows it."

"Well, the poor things won't trouble you long," said Mrs. Meadows. "They'll want to go back home presently."

"Do they have to stay in the looking-glass?" inquired Buster John, repeating a question he had already asked.

"Well, they were born and raised there," replied Mrs. Meadows. "It is their home, and, although they are glad to get out for a little while, they wouldn't be very happy if they had to stay out."

The children and the Looking-Glass children played together a little while, or made believe to play, but they didn't seem to enjoy themselves. Mrs. Meadows noticed this and asked Mr. Rabbit the reason.

"Simple enough, simple enough," Mr. Rabbit answered. "They are so much alike in their looks and ways and so different in their raising that they can't get on together. How would I feel if my double were to walk out of the side of the house and sit here facing me and mimicking my every motion? I wouldn't feel very comfortable, I can tell you."

"I reckon not," said Mrs. Meadows. Presently she called the children, brought out the looking-glass and told them it was time to bid the others good-by. At this the other children seemed to be very well pleased. The other Buster John and the other Sweetest Susan shook hands all round, and the other Drusilla made a curtsey to the company. Then, with a run and a jump, they plunged into the big looking-glass as you have seen youngsters plunge into a pond of water.

"Ho!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger, "they jumped in with a splash, but they never made a ripple."

"They haven't room enough in there to turn around," said Sweetest Susan.

"Why not?" inquired Mr. Thimblefinger. "To them the world is a looking-glass, and a mighty little one at that. If you were to peep in their glass now they'd peep back at you; but, as they look at it, you are in a looking-glass and they are out of it. And I wouldn't be surprised if they are a great deal sorrier for you than you are for them."

"When are we to go home?" asked Sweetest Susan plaintively.

"Oho! you want to get back into your looking-glass!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger merrily. "Well, you won't have long to wait. By rights, you ought to stay here twelve hours, but the old Spring Lizard and I have put our heads together, and we've fixed it so that you can get back before sundown."

"Isn't it night at home now?" inquired Buster John.

"Why, they are hardly through washing the dinner dishes," replied Mrs. Meadows.

"It is just half past two," said Mr. Thimblefinger, looking at his watch.

"Well, it look so dark all dis time dat I done got hungry fer supper," remarked Drusilla.

[The end]
Joel Chandler Harris's short story: Looking-Glass Children

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN