Benjamin and the Time Traveling Toys

By Elaine Chapman Pagan

Benjamin and his old dog, Scrapper, wandered the streets of New York in the year 1849. After some time they found themselves walking away from the city and out to the country where they discover and old house far off the road hidden by many trees. The two rovers go into the house and explore all of the many rooms. Benjamin decides the old house is a good place for him and Scrapper to live, however, the biggest challenge they face is finding food. Eventually Benjamin happens to find the phantom room full of magic toys and they are fed by the hands of a mysterious yet invisible person. Each time Benjamin picks up a toy, it comes to life and a new adventure begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524641191

Elaine Chapman Pagan

Elaine was born in 1937, in a little gray clapboard house in Alabama. Her father assisted the doctor with her birth. She was followed by two brothers. The oldest brother, James Ellis, was discovered to be totally deaf by the time he was two years old. He died when he was twelve years old with nephritis, commonly called Bright’s disease. Her youngest brother was born seven years and one day after her birthday. He is still living today in Mobile, Alabama, and is the father of two sons (one is deceased) and two daughters; he is also a grandfather of two boys and two girls. She has been married for fifty-two years to Luis, and they are the parents of four sons and five daughters and are the grandparents of twenty-five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.

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Benjamin and the

Time Traveling Toys

Elaine Chapman Pagan

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© 2016 Elaine Chapman Pagan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/15/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4120-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4121-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4119-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016915668

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1    Ben

Chapter 2    Little Beth Disappears

Chapter 3    The Old House

Chapter 4    Such Kind People

Chapter 5    The Taylor Family

Chapter 6    The Magic Room

Chapter 7    Three Chosen Witnesses

Chapter 8    Hunting For Food

Chapter 9    Going West

Chapter 10    Rebecca Is Missing

Chapter 11    The Yellow And Black Wagon

Chapter 12    Going To Church

Chapter 13    The Story Of Meadowlark

Chapter 14    One Hundred Million Bc

Chapter 15    Garth And The Runaway Slaves

Chapter 16    Home Again

Chapter 17    The Airplane

Chapter 18    The Souvenir

Chapter 19    Only The Truth

Chapter 20    The Good Ship The Lucky Lady

Chapter 21    William Mcleod

Chapter 22    Shipwrecked

Chapter 23    On An Island Far Away

Chapter 24    Exploring We Will Go

Chapter 25    Bonny Beth Island

Chapter 26    Ben’s Story And Will’s Story

Chapter 27    Goodby, My Faithful Friend

Chapter 28    The Beating Of Drums

Chapter 29    Mariah

Chapter 30    The Marriage Of Will And Mariah

Chapter 31    Benjamin’s Expedition

Chapter 32    Home For Christmas

Chapter 33    Drums Again

Chapter 34    Bringing Home The Goods

Chapter 35    Davy And Bethy

Chapter 36    The Volcano

Chapter 37    Meadowlark, My Home

Chapter 38    The Mistress Of Meadowlark

Chapter 39    Away To The West

Epilogue

CHAPTER 1

BEN

New York City was a hustling, bustling place in the year of 1849. The cobbled streets teamed with clanging trolleys, pulled smartly along the rails by high-stepping horses. Horse–drawn carriages, wagons and mules, and men on horseback, trafficked daily in a profusion of noise and busy–ness. Gentlemen with long mustaches and fancy high hats hurried down the wooden sidewalks, solemn–faced and intent on their day’s work. Ladies with long ruffled dresses and dainty parasols strolled slowly down the street. They shopped in the various stores along the walkways, and had tea and cake in fine restaurants. On the surface, one would think that all was well in the world.

Not so! In the back alleyways, cats and dogs snarled and hissed at each other, and dug through the piles of scraps looking for any morsel to be had. Should one be fortunate enough to find just a tidbit, he would have to fight to keep it.

Sleeping in a huddle beside one of the dirty brick buildings was a small urchin, no more than ten years old. He jerked in his sleep and shivered from the cold. It was still extremely chilly in New York in the month of May, and the unfortunate little child had covered himself with old newspapers that were tossed into the alleys by careless passersby.

An old dog with brown matted hair walked over to the boy, and nudged him gently with his nose. The little urchin sniffled and moaned in his sleep, and then opened his eyes and blinked. Oh, Scrapper, it’s you! Did you find us some breakfast?

The old dog wagged his tail and licked the boy’s face. Stop it, Scrapper! laughed the child. Well, I guess it’s alright to have a clean face. Let’s see what you have found today.

The animal bounced up and down and almost knocked the boy off of his feet, but the ragamuffin laughed again, and rubbed the dog on his back.

This is good, Scrapper. You found a bun and half a potato, and here’s a corn cob. There’s still a lot of good corn on it. Come over here and let’s eat. How did you manage this? Where did all the rest of the rascals go today? They must’ve found another alley.

The two friends shared their meal, and the boy washed his face in a barrel under a gutter drain. His clothes were tattered, worn, and dirty, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. His shoes were just as scruffy as the rest of his raiment. The boy’s name was Ben, but he didn’t know his last name. He only remembered living in a home for orphans. The beds were lumpy, and the children were given only one thin blanket, even on the harshest winter nights.

Though they planted gardens in the spring, the children saw little of it. Old Mr. Tuggle and his ugly fat wife took everything for themselves, except for a few turnips and potatoes. The children had turnip soup and bread in the morning and evening in the spring and summer months. In the winter time they had a potato and a slice of bread twice a day.

And you dunna’ be worth THAT, said the dreadful fat woman, who cooked the meager meals. At least, they were meager for the children.

Benjamin’s earliest memories were of life in the orphanage. He had no idea where he came from, nor who his parents might have been. He, like all the others, had little knowledge of the world outside. They only guessed about their mothers and fathers, because the only part of the other world that they saw was out of the one big bay window in the drafty scantily furnished room where all of them slept.

The orphans had little time to spend gazing out of the window and observing the outside world. They could only do it in passing now and then. All of them, however, knew about the stores and fine clothes worn by the shoppers. They heard and saw the clamor of horse–drawn wagons, carriages, and trolley cars.

Poised and prissy ladies passed by, purses slapping against their ample hips, and holding the leashes of funny looking dogs.

Other times, an old mutt dog appeared on the sidewalks, but was always chased away instantly.

Orphans were considered a nuisance to those who were corrupted by the very system that they claimed to champion. The Tuggles were only called headmaster and headmistress because they were hired to educate the children, as well as house and feed them. Just a little greasing of the palm was all that was necessary for school officials to give a good report. Instead, the only education was the harshness of the children’s lonely lives, the bay window, the gardens, and snippets of conversation from the repulsive cook and her equally repugnant sister, who gossiped continually about the headmistress and headmaster.

Two or three of the older boys had sneaked away from the orphanage with heady visions of finding something better on the outside, only to find survival impossible, and the only choice was to return again to the gloomy life within the orphanage’s barren and cruel walls.

But late in the evening, they told tales about the seashore, ships, beautiful houses, and green meadows filled with flowers and trees. They wove their tales in hushed whispers, and the unfortunate little ones of the dreary place listened with longing hearts and dreamy eyes.

CHAPTER 2

LITTLE BETH DISAPPEARS

One evening a small girl named Beth started shivering and coughing. An older girl, Maggie, took her in her bed. She cuddled her closely in an attempt to keep her warm, but knew it was needless to look for Mrs. Tuggle. She would only yell and strike Maggie if she woke her up. There was nothing to be done for poor little Beth.

It wasn’t unusual for a child in the orphanage to get sick. Sometimes, a sick child would rally. Other times they just disappeared, and no one knew what became of them. Beth would disappear, too, if they couldn’t make her well. How could they? No doctors came to that run-down and miserable dwelling. There was never the proper food or medicine to make an ill child well again.

In the wee hours of the morning a thin figure made his way to the bed where Beth and Maggie were lying. The boy reached over and tenderly brushed the hair from Beth’s fevered brow. Tears streamed down his face, and fell on the little girl’s arm. She moved a little and called his name. Ben, she whispered. Ben.

Beth, please get well.

Maggie saw and understood the distress, so she arose and gave him her place beside his sister. He took Beth in his arms and held her tight when she coughed. By morning, Beth had stopped coughing. She was cold and lifeless. The others knew that they had to report for their sparse morning meal and their daily chores. Even the distraught boy dared not stay. He would’ve been whipped, and he knew that Beth was in heaven now and wouldn’t want him to be punished.

No one mentioned Beth, and when they returned in the evening, she was gone. Knowing that she would never come back, they were too tired to cry or grieve.

Ben did cry. He buried his face in the old mattress; his thin shoulders heaved up and down. Sobbing until the tears finally diminished, he laid mute in anguish. Beth was his best friend and only family.

Old man Tuggle said that they were ten years old. Arriving at the orphanage together on a cold, snowy day in February 1842, it was obvious that they were twins. Bewilderment and fear showed in their dark green eyes. More proof that they were identical twins was the mop of dark red curly hair, and the clothes that they wore.

Maggie, who tried to nurse the sick child, was now fourteen. She clearly remembered the arrival of the little ones. Even though she was only seven years old, she silently vowed to watch over them in ways that would not be visible. You’re brother and sister for sure, just as we have said, she told them one day. You came here together when you were only three years old. Old Tuggle wouldn’t tell us where you came from, but you were dressed in splendid clothes. Beth carried a lovely doll, and both of you wore shiny boots with golden buckles. The day after you came, all of your finery was gone, and you were dressed in the awful clothing that we wear. Beth cried for her mother and daddy and doll. You would not leave her side, Ben. You were so little. I tried to look after you but the work was hard and I was only seven years old. When you were five years old you were made to work in the gardens, too. Such wee bits you were, but you tried so hard to please.

Now Beth was gone and would not be coming back.

In the still of the night Ben and Beth had huddled close together, and tried to imagine what their mother and father must have looked like. Where did they go? Why were the two of them abandoned to the drudgery of a cold, harsh life?

Still, they would make up tales of what life must have been in a real home with loving parents. In their hearts they knew that their parents loved them. Something chilling must have happened, or they would never have condemned their children to such a pitiful state.

Ben meant to run away. Any existence had to be better than the evil and sorrow within those walls. When everyone else was asleep, he quietly left his bed, and tiptoed across the room. The door creaked when opened. Standing quietly for a moment, he listened for any sign that the Tuggles had awakened. Punishment of hard work was a promise, after the thrashing was administered.

Why do they care if we stay or leave? Ben asked Maggie one day, when one of the boys had received a brutal beating at the hands of old Tuggle, just because he tripped over a loose plank on the floor, and spilled old Tuggle’s glass of wine.

They don’t care anything about us, Maggie answered in a low voice, except one thing. We are slaves to their laziness and selfishness. We do all of the work here, and that’s all we are to them; just slaves.

Remembering this, he cried. Nothing will ever make me come back here! Silently stealing down the hallway, he went to the window on the far end, instead of going down the stairs. Carefully, he raised the window just enough to squeeze his body through, and slipped two feet onto the slanted roof. Sliding quickly down the roof, he knew that his feet would catch on the gutters. So many times he had looked out of that window, and plotted ways of escaping. We’ll run far away, and find our parents! Plans always included Beth, but now he would be alone.

His feet caught, just as he knew they would. He twisted around, and crawled gingerly along the edge of the roof. At the end was the drainpipe, and he slid expertly down within three feet of the ground. Dropping to the earth, he ran swiftly to the edge of the yard and climbed over the wire fence. In just a minute he was clear, and running fast down the back alley. Running for a long time, he knew nothing of directions or where to go. Getting away from the sordid existence known in the few short years of memory was his only intent.

The dawning of the sun found him lying against the door on a street far away from the orphanage. He was so chilled and stiff that he could hardly move. A blustery wind blew papers and trash down the street. His eyes opened, and he looked all around. Everything was unfamiliar. Shivering with cold, he pulled his old shirt around his narrow shoulders Alone, cold, hungry, and frightened, the little lad didn’t know what to do next. He just started walking; tears trickling down a dirty face, and his heart beating hard against a small chest. No matter what, he repeated his declaration of the night before, I’m never going back, never!

Did Beth see him? Not having been taught anything about a merciful God, he still had a tiny flicker in his bosom that Beth was in heaven, wherever it was. His thoughts were interrupted, when a bony old dog came ambling up the sidewalk, and stopped when he spotted Ben. The urchin stopped, too, and they stared at each other. The dog hung his head down, tucked his tail, and slowly walked up to the boy. Raising his tired eyes, he looked longingly into the thin, pale face of the child.

I think you need a friend as much as I do. Ben knelt down and patted the dogs back. The dog repaid by giving him a big slurp on his face with his red wet tongue.

Well, come on. I don’t know where we’re going, but there has to be some scraps in these alleys. Let’s see what we can find. The old dog trotted contentedly by the boy, and swished his lanky tail back-and-forth, then suddenly ran a little distance ahead and turned into an alleyway. What’s in there, boy? Why, you do know where to find scraps! I’m going to call you Scrapper. Do you like that name? It suits you. You look like you’ve been in a lot of scraps in your life. Here, what did you find? Sure enough, the dog dug out some bread, and two pieces of potato. It was enough to dull the hunger pangs in both of their stomachs. Now what were they to do? Just wander the streets? Some of the store owners were in front of their buildings, sweeping the walks ready for the day’s business. No one paid the least attention to the skinny, ragged little boy and his half-starved dog.

They walked and walked, sometimes ducking into doorways to fend off the bitter wind, but most of the time an annoyed clerk would chase them away.

One day was the same as the day before. Sleeping in alleyways and searching for bits of food, was their daily way of life. Scrapper stayed close by Ben, and the two of them shared their suffering in mutual silence.

One day, while wandering aimlessly, the landscape changed, and they found themselves on a wide dirt street away from the din and clatter of the city. Stores, noise, and traffic were left behind. Ben was lured on by the serenity of the fresh land and clover behind wooden fences. He and Scrapper plodded along, with no purpose and no destination. The fields with their straight plowed rows gave way to a community of houses.

I wonder if this is where families live? ventured the boy. The old dog looked up expectantly. See, Scrapper. Do you see the pretty houses with big porches? I never saw one before, but that is what the older boys talked about, I’m sure.

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The Rocking Horse

CHAPTER 3

THE OLD HOUSE

They walked along the street, looking all about, and came to a crossing. Ben opened his eyes wide. On the corner, sitting way back in the trees was an old abandoned house. The weeds and vines tangled and choked the garden that must have been beautiful at one time. Jonquils, verbenas, and pansies still struggled to grow in the forsaken yard. An old swing hung by two rugged ropes tied up in a gnarled, ancient oak tree. The gazebo on the right side of the house was unpainted, and tilted to one side. Staring at the house, he tried to imagine who lived there a long time ago. Did children run and play in the big yard? Did they have a dog or cat? Did he and Beth live with their parents in a big house?

After just a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the creaky gate open and walked up the pathway, which was barely visible. Grass and weeds had long since overtaken the huge yard. Taking a deep breath, he mounted the sagging steps up to the porch. It was in terrible repair. One had to be careful. The rusty knob turned easily, and he slowly pushed open the squeaky door. Stepping cautiously inside the house, he peered into the sizable dusty room. Spider webs were in every corner, and it was very gloomy and dark. There was no furniture in the room, except an old grandfather’s clock that stopped ticking many years past.

A spiral stairway was to the right in the dark room. It was in much better condition than the porch stairs. The ornate mahogany banisters must have been lovely in their day when polished. Still walking carefully, and looking in every direction, he mounted the long winding staircase, and finally reached the top. Wallpaper was hanging in dirty sheets, and the hallway was just as dust-laden and timeworn as the downstairs.

Come on, Scrapper. Come on, boy, don’t be afraid. Opening the six doors one at a time, he looked inside of each. Nothing was there but two moldy pictures hanging crookedly on the wall in one of the deserted rooms. There was one more door at the very end of the hallway. Opening it carefully, another staircase was revealed. This must be the attic. He knew what an attic was because the orphanage had one. What it contained was unknown, as no one was allowed to go there.

Getting bolder and bolder, his fears diminished. Climbing up the stairs, he saw the expected door and entered. It took just a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When his vision cleared, he could see the room full of broken furniture, tattered clothing, and papers strewn everywhere.

"Scrapper, I think we found a place to live. It’s a place