Gadsby.

Episode -7

So, finally our big day was at hand! That it might not cut into school hours, it was on a Saturday; and, by noon, about a thousand kids, singing, shouting and waving flags, stood in formation at City Park, awaiting with growing thrills, a signal which would start as big a turn-out as Branton Hills had known in all its history. Up at City Hall awaiting arrivals of city officials, a big crowd sat; row upon row of chairs which not only took up all floor room, but also many a small spot, in door-way or on a balcony in which a chair or stool could find footing; and all who could not find such an opportunity willingly stood in back. Just as a group of officials sat down on that flag-bound platform, distant throbbing of drums, and bright, snappy band music told of Branton Hills approaching thousands of kids, who, finally marching in through City Hall’s main door, stood in a solid mass around that big room.

Naturally Gadsby had to put his satisfaction into words; and, advancing to a mahogany stand, stood waiting for a storm of hand-clapping and shouts to quit, and said:—

“Your Honor, Mayor of Branton Hills, its Council, and all you out in front:— If you would only stop rating a child’s ability by your own; and try to find out just what ability a child has, our young folks throughout this big world would show a surprisingly willing disposition to try things which would bring your approbation. A child’s brain is an astonishing thing. It has, in its construction, an astounding capacity for absorbing what is brought to it; and not only to think about, but to find ways for improving it. It is today’s child who, tomorrow, will, you know, laugh at our ways of doing things. So, in putting across this campaign of building up our community into a municipality which has won acclaim, not only from its officials and inhabitants, but from surrounding towns I found, in our young folks, an out-and-out inclination to assist; and you, today, can look upon it as labor in which your adult aid was but a small factor. So now, my Organization of Youth, if you will pass across this platform, your Mayor will hand you your diplomas.”

Not in all Branton Hills’ history had any boy or girl known such a thrill as upon winning that hard-won roll! And from solid banks of humanity roars of congratulation burst forth. As soon as Mayor Brown shook hands (and such tiny, warm, soft young hands, too!) with all, a big out-door lunch was found waiting on a charming lawn back of City Hall; and this was no World War mobilization lunch of doughnuts and a hot dog sandwich; but, as two of Gadsby’s sons said, was “an all-round, good, big fill-up;” and many a boy’s and girl’s “tummy” was soon as round and taut as a balloon.

As twilight was turning to dusk, boys in an adjoining lot shot skyward a crashing bomb, announcing a grand illumination as a fitting c****x for so glorious a day; and thousands sat on rock-walls, grassy knolls, in cars or at windows, with a big crowd standing along curbs and crosswalks. Myriads of lights of all colors, in solid balls, sprays, sparkling fountains, and bursts of glory, shot, in criss-cross paths, up and down, back and forth, across a star-lit sky; providing a display without a par in local annals.

But not only did Youth thrill at so fantastic a show. Adults had many a Fourth of July brought back from a distant past; in which our national custom wound up our most important holiday with a similar display; only, in our Fourths of long ago, horrifying, gigantic concussions would disturb old folks and invalids until midnight; at which hour, according to law, all such carrying-on must stop. But did it? Possibly in your town, but not around my district! All Fourth of July outfits don’t always function at first, you know; and

no kid, (or adult!) would think of quitting until that last pop should pop; or that last bang should bang. And so, many a dawn on July fifth found things still going, full blast.

End of the chp