B 
 
 
THE WRITINGS OF 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 
 
 WITH BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS 
 
 PORTRAITS, AND OTHER 
 
 ILL USTRA TIONS 
 
 IN SIXTEEN VOLUMES 
 VOLUME XVI 
 

 HOUGHTON/MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
STORIES AND SKETCHES 
 FOR THE YOUNG 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE 
 
 at tlje Kiberstoe 
 
 M DCCC XCVI 
 
Copyright, 1855, 
 Br PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 
 
 Copyright, 1867, 
 BY TICKNOE & FIELDS. 
 
 Copyright, 1881, 1883, 1895, 
 BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 an& tfiftp 
 printefc. Dumber.... 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE vii 
 
 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE. 
 
 THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 1 
 
 THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE .... 11 
 
 THE HISTORY OF Tip-Top 19 
 
 Miss KATY-DID AND Miss CRICKET 29 
 
 MOTHER MAGPIE S MISCHIEF 36 
 
 THE SQUIRRELS THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE .... 42 
 
 HUM, THE SON OF Buz 49 
 
 OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS . . 58 
 
 OUR DOGS 66 
 
 DOGS AND CATS 102 
 
 AUNT ESTHER S RULES 110 
 
 AUNT ESTHER S STORIES 114 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS 121 
 
 COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 127 
 
 THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY . . . 134 
 
 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 139 
 
 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 233 
 
 A DOG S MISSION. 
 
 CHAP. I. THE OLD HOUSE AND THE OLD WOMAN . . / 258 
 
 II. THE DOG TAKES REFUGE WITH THE OLD WOMAN . 264 
 
 III. SHE DISCOVERS THAT HE is A PROVIDENCE . . 268 
 
 IV. HE MAKES HIMSELF AGREEABLE .... 271 
 
 V. BLUE EYES COMES TO SEE HIM 275 
 
 VI. THE WOMAN WHO HATES DOGS .... 279 
 
 VII. BLUE EYES PURSUES HER ADVANTAGE . . . 282 
 
 VIII. A BRIGHT SATURDAY AFTERNOON .... 285 
 
 IX. A JOYFUL SUNDAY 290 
 
 X. WHERE is BLUE EYES ? 292 
 
 XI. THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 296 
 
 LULU S PUPIL 300 
 
 THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER . 306 
 
 M76065 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM. 
 
 OUR CHARLEY 313 
 
 TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK 323 
 
 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 326 
 
 THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD 334 
 
 THE HAPPY CHILD 339 
 
 LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 346 
 
 CHRISTMAS ; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 355 
 
 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 365 
 
 The frontispiece (Mrs. Stowe and her daughters) is from a daguerreotype 
 taken in 1850. 
 
 The vignette (Mrs. Stowe s first Hartford home) is from a drawing by 
 Charles Copeland. 
 
INTKODUCTOEY NOTE 
 
 HE would be an inattentive reader of Mrs. Stowe s 
 writings who did not see how irresistibly she would be 
 drawn not only to the portraiture of children but to stories 
 for their pleasure. She was distinctly a domestic woman ; 
 and she was, moreover, so acutely sensible of the world of 
 nature, loving its flowers, trees, and all animate and inani 
 mate objects, that her active mind and intelligent sympathy 
 could scarcely fail to seize upon this material when she 
 came to write for the instruction or the diversion of that 
 part of humanity which lives nearest the earth. 
 
 The Mayflower, which has yielded so many evidences of 
 Mrs. Stowe s native proclivities in her early life, is drawn 
 upon here for two stories, the last in the volume j but a 
 good many of the most characteristic creature stories, those 
 included under Queer Little People, were first contributed 
 to Our Young Folks and afterward gathered in a volume, 
 which was published in 1867. The other stories were for 
 the most part contributed to periodicals before being col 
 lected in book form, Little Captain Trott being a study of 
 child life first published in The Atlantic Monthly. It is 
 after all a somewhat loose classification which sets these all 
 apart as stories and sketches for the young. Some of them 
 might readily have been grouped with the stories, sketches, 
 and studies comprised in the fourteenth volume of this 
 series, just as some pieces there printed might have found 
 as suitable a place in this volume. In truth, Mrs. Stowe 
 was naturally a companion for young and old, without too 
 nice a calculation of adaptation to either class. 
 
STORIES AND SKETCHES FOR 
 THE YOUNG 
 
 QUEEK LITTLE PEOPLE 
 THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 
 
 ONCE there was a nice young hen that we will call Mrs. 
 Feathertop. She was a hen of most excellent family, being 
 a direct descendant of the Bolton Grays, and as pretty a 
 young fowl as you should wish to see of a summer s day. 
 She was, moreover, as fortunately situated in life as it was 
 possible for a hen to be. She was bought by young Mas 
 ter Fred Little John, with four or five family connections 
 of hers, and a lively young cock, who was held to be as 
 brisk a scratcher and as capable a head of a family as any 
 half-dozen sensible hens could desire. 
 
 I can t say that at first Mrs. Feathertop was a very sen 
 sible hen. She was very pretty and lively, to be sure, and 
 a great favorite with Master Bolton Gray Cock, on account 
 of her bright eyes, her finely shaded feathers, and certain 
 saucy dashing ways that she had, which seemed greatly to 
 take his fancy. But old Mrs. Scratchard, living in the 
 neighboring yard, assured all the neighborhood that Gray 
 Cock was a fool for thinking so much of that flighty young 
 thing, that she had not the smallest notion how to get 
 on in life, and thought of nothing in the world but her own 
 pretty feathers. " Wait till she comes to have chickens," 
 said Mrs. Scratchard. " Then you will see. I have brought 
 
2 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 up ten broods myself, as likely and respectable chickens 
 as \eviwc wet a blessing to society, and I think I ought 
 to, k,uow; u gqod hatcher and brooder when I see her ; and I 
 ,know tkxt fine piece of trumpery, with her white feathers 
 .tipped with gray ? never will come down to family life. 
 She scratch for chickens ! Bless me, she never did any 
 thing in all her days but run round and eat the worms 
 which somebody else scratched up for her." 
 
 When Master Bolton Gray heard this he crowed very 
 loudly, like a cock of spirit, and declared that old Mrs. 
 Scratchard was envious, because she had lost all her own 
 tail-feathers, and looked more like a worn-out old feather- 
 duster than a respectable hen, and that therefore she was 
 filled with sheer envy of anybody that was young and 
 pretty. So young Mrs. Feathertop cackled gay defiance at 
 her busy rubbishy neighbor, as she sunned herself under 
 the bushes on fine June afternoons. 
 
 Now Master Fred Little John had been allowed to have 
 these hens by his mamma on the condition that he would 
 build their house himself, and take all the care of it ; and, 
 to do Master Fred justice, he executed the job in a small 
 way quite creditably. He chose a sunny sloping bank cov 
 ered with a thick growth of bushes, and erected there a 
 nice little hen-house, with two glass windows, a little door, 
 and a good pole for his family to roost on. He made, 
 moreover, a row of nice little boxes with hay in them for 
 nests, and he bought three or four little smooth white china 
 eggs to put in them, so that, when his hens did lay, he 
 might carry off their eggs without their being missed. This 
 hen-house stood in a little grove that sloped down to a 
 wide river, just where there was a little cove which reached 
 almost to the hen-house. 
 
 This situation inspired one of Master Fred s boy advis 
 ers with a new scheme in relation to his poultry enter 
 prise. " Hullo ! I say, Fred/ said Tom Seymour, " you 
 
THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 3 
 
 ought to raise ducks, you ? ve got a capital place for ducks 
 there." 
 
 " Yes, but I ? ve bought hens, you see/ said Freddy, 
 "so it s no use trying." 
 
 " No use ! Of course there is ! Just as if your hens 
 could n t hatch ducks eggs. Now you just wait till one of 
 your hens wants to set, and you put ducks eggs under her, 
 and you 11 have a family of ducks in a twinkling. You 
 can buy ducks eggs, a plenty, of old Sam under the hill ; 
 he always has hens hatch his ducks." 
 
 So Freddy thought it would be a good experiment, and 
 informed his mother the next morning that he intended to 
 furnish the ducks for the next Christmas dinner ; and when 
 she wondered how he was to come by them, he said, mys 
 teriously, "Oh, I will show you how! " but did not further 
 explain himself. The next day he went with Tom Sey 
 mour, and made a trade with old Sam, and gave him a mid 
 dle-aged jack-knife for eight of his ducks eggs. Sam, by the 
 bye, was a woolly-headed old negro man, who lived by the 
 pond hard by, and who had long cast envying eyes on Fred s 
 jack-knife, because it was of extra-fine steel, having been a 
 Christmas present the year before. But Fred knew very well 
 there were any number more of jack-knives where that came 
 from, and that, in order to get a new one, he must dispose 
 of the old ; so he made the trade and came home rejoicing. 
 
 Now about this time Mrs. Feathertop, having laid her 
 eggs daily with great credit to herself, notwithstanding Mrs. 
 Scratchard s predictions, began to find herself suddenly at 
 tacked with nervous symptoms. She lost her gay spirits, 
 grew dumpish and morose, stuck up her feathers in a bris 
 tling way, and pecked at her neighbors if they did so much 
 as look at her. Master Gray Cock was greatly concerned, 
 and went to old Doctor Peppercorn, who looked solemn, and 
 recommended an infusion of angle-worms, and said he would 
 look in on the patient twice a day till she was better. 
 
4 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " Gracious me, Gray Cock ! " said old Goody Kertarkut, 
 who had been lolling at the corner as he passed, "a n t you a 
 fool ? cocks always are fools. Don t you know what s the 
 matter with your wife ? She wants to set, that s all ; and 
 you just let her set ! A fiddlestick for Doctor Peppercorn ! 
 Why, any good old hen that has brought up a family knows 
 more than a doctor about such things. You just go home 
 and tell her to set, if she wants to, and behave herself. " 
 
 When Gray Cock came home, he found that Master 
 Freddy had been before him, and established Mrs. Feather- 
 top upon eight nice eggs, where she was sitting in gloomy 
 grandeur. He tried to make a little affable conversation 
 with her, and to relate his interview with the doctor and 
 Goody Kertarkut, but she was morose and sullen, and only 
 pecked at him now and then in a very sharp, unpleasant 
 way ; so after a few more efforts to make himself agreeable, 
 he left her, and went out promenading with the captivating 
 Mrs. Red Comb, a charming young Spanish widow, who 
 had just been imported into the neighboring yard. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " said he, " you ve no idea how cross 
 my wife is." 
 
 "Oh, you horrid creature!" said Mrs. Red Comb ; "how 
 little you feel for the weaknesses of us poor hens ! " 
 
 " On my word, ma am," said Gray Cock, " you do me 
 injustice. But when a hen gives way to temper, ma am, 
 and no longer meets her husband with a smile, when she 
 even pecks at him whom she is bound to honor and 
 obey 
 
 " Horrid monster ! talking of obedience ! I should say, 
 sir, you came straight from Turkey ! " and Mrs. Eed Comb 
 tossed her head with a most bewitching air, and pretended 
 to run away, and old Mrs. Scratchard looked out of her 
 coop and called to Goody Kertarkut, 
 
 " Look how Mr. Gray Cock is flirting with that widow. 
 I always knew she was a baggage." 
 
THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 5 
 
 "And his poor wife left at home alone/ said Goody 
 Kertarkut. " It s the way with em all ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Dame Scratchard, " she 11 know what 
 real life is now, and she won t go about holding her head 
 so high, and looking down on her practical neighbors that 
 have raised families." 
 
 " Poor thing, what 11 she do with a family ? " said Goody 
 Kertarkut. 
 
 " Well, what business have such young flirts to get mar 
 ried ? " said Dame Scratchard. " I don t expect she 11 raise 
 a single chick ; and there s Gray Cock flirting about, fine 
 as ever. Folks did n t do so when I was young. I m sure 
 my husband knew what treatment a setting hen ought to 
 have, poor old Long Spur, he never minded a peck or 
 so now and then. I must say these modern fowls a n t 
 what fowls used to be." 
 
 Meanwhile the sun rose and set, and Master Fred was 
 almost the only friend and associate of poor little Mrs. 
 Feathertop, whom he fed daily with meal and water, and 
 only interrupted her sad reflections by pulling her up occa 
 sionally to see how the eggs were coming on. 
 
 At last, "Peep, peep, peep ! " began to be heard in the 
 nest, and one little downy head after another poked forth 
 from under the feathers, surveying the world with round, 
 bright, winking eyes ; and gradually the brood were hatched, 
 and Mrs. Feathertop arose, a proud and happy mother, with 
 all the bustling, scratching, care-taking instincts of family- 
 life warm within her breast. She clucked and scratched, and 
 cuddled the little downy bits of things as handily and dis 
 creetly as a seven-year-old hen could have done, exciting 
 thereby the wonder of the community. 
 
 Master Gray Cock came home in high spirits, and com 
 plimented her ; told her she was looking charmingly once 
 more, and said, " Very well, very nice ! " as he surveyed the 
 young brood. So that Mrs. Feathertop began to feel the 
 
6 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 world going well with her, when suddenly in came Dame 
 Scratchard and Goody Kertarkut to make a morning call. 
 
 " Let s see the chicks, 7 said Dame Scratchard. 
 
 " Goodness me/ 7 said Goody Kertarkut, " what a likeness 
 to their dear papa ! " 
 
 " Well, but bless me, what s the matter with their bills ? " 
 said Dame Scratchard. " Why, my dear, these chicks are 
 deformed ! I m sorry for you, my dear, but it s all the 
 result of your inexperience ; you ought to have eaten pebble 
 stones with your meal when you were setting. Don t you 
 see, Dame Kertarkut, what bills they have ? That 11 
 increase, and they 11 be frightful ! " 
 
 " What shall I do ? " said Mrs. Feathertop, now greatly 
 alarmed. 
 
 " Nothing, as I know of," said Dame Scratchard, " since 
 you did n t come to me before you set. I could have told 
 you all about it. Maybe it won t kill em, but they 11 
 always be deformed." 
 
 And so the gossips departed, leaving a sting under the 
 pin-feathers of the poor little hen mamma, who began to 
 see that her darlings had curious little spoon-bills, different 
 from her own, and to worry and fret about it. 
 
 " My dear," she said to her spouse, " do get Dr. Pepper 
 corn to come in and look at their bills, and see if anything 
 can be done." 
 
 Dr. Peppercorn came in, and put on a monstrous pair 
 of spectacles, and said, " Hum ! Ha ! Extraordinary case, 
 very singular ! " 
 
 "Did you ever see anything like it, Doctor ? " said both 
 parents, in a breath. 
 
 " I ve read of such cases. It s a calcareous enlarge 
 ment of the vascular bony tissue, threatening ossification," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, dreadful ! can it be possible ? " shrieked both 
 parents. " Can anything be done ? " 
 
THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 7 
 
 " Well, I should recommend a daily lotion made of mos 
 quitoes horns and bicarbonate of frogs toes, together with 
 a powder, to be taken morning and night, of muriate of 
 fleas. One thing you must be careful about : they must 
 never wet their feet, nor drink any water." 
 
 " Dear me, Doctor, I don t know what I shall do, for they 
 seem to have a particular fancy for getting into water." 
 
 " Yes, a morbid tendency often found in these cases of 
 bony tumification of the vascular tissue of the mouth ; but 
 you must resist it, ma am, as their life depends upon it ; " 
 and with that Dr. Peppercorn glared gloomily on the 
 young ducks, who were stealthily poking the objectionable 
 little spoon-bills out from under their mother s feathers. 
 
 After this poor Mrs. Feathertop led a weary life of it ; 
 for the young fry were as healthy and enterprising a brood 
 of young ducks as ever carried saucepans on the end of 
 their noses, and they most utterly set themselves against 
 the doctor s prescriptions, murmured at the muriate of fleas 
 and the bicarbonate of frogs toes, and took every opportu 
 nity to waddle their little ways down to the mud and 
 water which was in their near vicinity. So their bills grew 
 larger and larger, as did the rest of their bodies, and fam 
 ily government grew weaker and weaker. 
 
 " You 11 wear me out, children, you certainly will," said 
 poor Mrs. Feathertop. 
 
 " You 11 go to destruction, do ye hear ? " said Master 
 Gray Cock. 
 
 " Did you ever see such frights as poor Mrs. Feathertop 
 has got ? " said Dame Scratchard. " I knew what would 
 come of her family, all deformed, and with a dreadful 
 sort of madness, which makes them love to shovel mud 
 with those shocking spoon-bills of theirs." 
 
 " It s a kind of idiocy," said Goody Kertarkut. " Poor 
 things ! they can t be kept from the water, nor made to 
 take powders, and so they get worse and worse." 
 
8 QUEEE LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " I understand it s affecting their feet so that they can t 
 walk, and a dreadful sort of net is growing between their 
 toes ; what a shocking visitation ! " 
 
 " She brought it on herself," said Dame Scratchard. 
 " Why did n t she come to me before she set ? She was 
 always an upstart, self-conceited thing, but 1 7 m sure I pity 
 her." 
 
 Meanwhile the young ducks throve apace. Their necks 
 grew glossy, like changeable green and gold satin, and 
 though they would not take the doctor s medicine, and 
 would waddle in the mud and water, for which they al 
 ways felt themselves to be very naughty ducks, yet they 
 grew quite vigorous and hearty. At last one day the 
 whole little tribe waddled off down to the bank of the 
 river. It was a beautiful day, and the river was dancing 
 and dimpling and winking as the little breezes shook the 
 trees that hung over it. 
 
 " Well," said the biggest of the little ducks, " in spite 
 of Dr. Peppercorn, I can t help longing for the water. I 
 don t believe it is going to hurt me, at any rate, here 
 goes ; " and in he plumped, and in went every duck after 
 him, and they threw out their great brown feet as cleverly 
 as if they had taken rowing lessons all their lives, and 
 sailed off on the river, away, away among the ferns, under 
 the pink azalias, through reeds and rushes, and arrow 
 heads and pickerel-weed, the happiest ducks that ever were 
 born ; and soon they were quite out of sight. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Feathertop, this is a dispensation ! " said 
 Mrs. Scratchard. " Your children are all drowned at last, 
 just as I knew they ? d be. The old music-teacher, Master 
 Bullfrog, that lives down in Water-dock Lane, saw ? em all 
 plump madly into the water together this morning ; that ? s 
 what comes of not knowing how to bring up a family." 
 
 Mrs. Feathertop gave only one shriek and fainted dead 
 away, and was carried home on a cabbage-leaf, and Mr. 
 
THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 9 
 
 Gray Cock was sent for, where he was waiting on Mrs. 
 Red Comb through the squash-vines. 
 
 " It s a serious time in your family, sir," said Goody 
 Kertarkut, " and you ought to be at home supporting your 
 wife. Send for Doctor Peppercorn without delay." 
 
 Now as the case was a very dreadful one, Doctor Pepper 
 corn called a council from the barn-yard of the Squire, two 
 miles off, and a brisk young Doctor Partlett appeared, in a 
 fine suit of brown and gold, with tail-feathers like meteors. 
 A fine young fellow he was, lately from Paris, with all the 
 modern scientific improvements fresh in his head. 
 
 When he had listened to the whole story, he clapped his 
 spur into the ground, and leaning back, laughed so loud 
 that all the cocks in the neighborhood crowed. 
 
 Mrs. Feathertop rose up out of her swoon, and Mr. Gray 
 Cock was greatly enraged. 
 
 " What do you mean, sir, by such behavior in the house 
 of mourning ? " 
 
 " My dear sir, pardon me, but there is no occasion for 
 mourning. My dear madam, let me congratulate you. 
 There is no harm done. The simple matter is, dear 
 madam, you have been under a hallucination all along. 
 The neighborhood and my learned friend the doctor have 
 all made a mistake in thinking that these children of yours 
 were hens at all. They are ducks, ma am, evidently 
 ducks, and very finely formed ducks I dare say." 
 
 At this moment a quack was heard, and at a distance the 
 whole tribe were seen coming waddling home, their feathers 
 gleaming in green and gold, and they themselves in high 
 good spirits. 
 
 " Such a splendid day as we have had ! " they all cried 
 in a breath. " And we know now how to get our own liv 
 ing ; we can take care of ourselves in future, so you need 
 have no further trouble with us." 
 
 " Madam," said the doctor, making a bow with an air 
 
10 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 which displayed his tail-feathers to advantage, " let me con 
 gratulate you on the charming family you have raised. A 
 finer brood of young, healthy ducks I never saw. Give 
 claw, my dear friend/ he said, addressing the elder son. 
 " In our harn-yard no family is more respected than that of 
 the ducks. 77 
 
 And so Madam Feathertop came off glorious at last ; and 
 when after this the ducks used to go swimming up and down 
 the river like so many nabobs among the admiring hens, 
 Doctor Peppercorn used to look after them and say, " Ah ! 
 I had the care of their infancy ! 77 and Mr. Gray Cock and 
 his wife used to say, " It was our system of education did 
 that ! 
 
THE NUTCEACKEES OF NUTCEACKEE LODGE 
 
 MB. and Mrs. Nutcracker were as respectable a pair of 
 squirrels as ever wore gray brushes over their backs. They 
 were animals of a settled and serious turn of mind, not dis 
 posed to run after vanities and novelties, but filling their 
 station in life with prudence and sobriety. Nutcracker 
 Lodge was a hole in a sturdy old chestnut overhanging a 
 shady dell, and was held to be as respectably kept an estab 
 lishment as there was in the whole forest. Even Miss 
 Jenny Wren, the greatest gossip of the neighborhood, 
 never found anything to criticise in its arrangements, and 
 old Parson Too-whit, a venerable owl who inhabited a 
 branch somewhat more exalted, as became his profession, 
 was in the habit of saving himself much trouble in his 
 parochial exhortations by telling his parishioners in short 
 to " look at the Nutcrackers " if they wanted to see what 
 it was to live a virtuous life. Everything had gone on 
 prosperously with them, and they had reared many suc 
 cessive families of young Nutcrackers, who went forth to 
 assume their places in the forest of life, and to reflect credit 
 on their bringing-up, so that naturally enough they began 
 to have a very easy way of considering themselves models 
 of wisdom. 
 
 But at last it came along, in the course of events, that 
 they had a son named Featherhead, who was destined to 
 bring them a great deal of anxiety. Nobody knows what 
 the reason is, but the fact was that Master Featherhead 
 was as different from all the former children of this worthy 
 couple as if he had been dropped out of the moon into 
 
12 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 their nest, Instead of coming into it in the general way. 
 Young Featherhead was a squirrel of good parts and a lively 
 disposition, but he was sulky and contrary and unreason 
 able, and always finding matter of complaint in everything 
 his respectable papa and mamma did. Instead of assist 
 ing in the cares of a family, picking up nuts and learning 
 other lessons proper to a young squirrel, he seemed to 
 settle himself from his earliest years into a sort of lofty 
 contempt for the Nutcrackers, for Nutcracker Lodge, and 
 for all the good old ways and institutions of the domestic 
 hole, which he declared to be stupid and unreasonable, and 
 entirely behind the times. To be sure, he was always on 
 hand at meal-times, and played a very lively tooth on the 
 nuts which his mother had collected, always selecting the 
 very best for himself ; but he seasoned his nibbling with so 
 much grumbling and discontent, and so many severe re 
 marks, as to give the impression that he considered himself 
 a peculiarly ill-used squirrel in having to "eat their old 
 grub," as he very unceremoniously called it. 
 
 Papa Nutcracker, on these occasions, was often fiercely 
 indignant, and poor little Mamma Nutcracker would shed 
 tears, and beg her darling to be a little more reasonable ; 
 but the young gentleman seemed always to consider himself 
 as the injured party. 
 
 Now nobody could tell why or wherefore Master Feath 
 erhead looked upon himself as injured and aggrieved, since 
 he was living in a good hole, with plenty to eat, and with 
 out the least care or labor of his own ; but he seemed rather 
 to value himself upon being gloomy and dissatisfied. While 
 his parents and brothers and sisters were cheerfully racing 
 up and down the branches, busy in their domestic toils, and 
 laying up stores for the winter, Featherhead sat gloomily 
 apart, declaring himself weary of existence, and feeling him 
 self at liberty to quarrel with everybody and everything 
 about him. Nobody understood him, he said ; he was a 
 
THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE 13 
 
 squirrel of a peculiar nature, and needed peculiar treatment, 
 and nobody treated him in a way that did not grate on the 
 finer nerves of his feelings. He had higher notions of 
 existence than could be bounded by that old rotten hole in 
 a hollow tree ; he had thoughts that soared far above the 
 miserable, petty details of every-day life, and he could not 
 and would not bring down these soaring aspirations to the 
 contemptible toil of laying up a few chestnuts or hickory- 
 nuts for winter. 
 
 " Depend upon it, my dear," said Mrs. Nutcracker sol 
 emnly, "that fellow must be a genius." 
 
 " Fiddlestick on his genius! " said old Mr. Nutcracker; 
 " what does he do ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, of course ; that s one of the first marks of 
 genius. Geniuses, you know, never can come down to 
 common life." 
 
 " He eats enough for any two," remarked old Nutcracker, 
 " and he never helps gather nuts." 
 
 "My dear, ask Parson Too-whit ; he has conversed with 
 him, and quite agrees with me that he says very uncom 
 mon things for a squirrel of his age ; he has such fine feel 
 ings, so much above those of the common crowd." 
 
 " Fine feelings be hanged ! " said old Nutcracker. 
 " When a fellow eats all the nuts that his mother gives 
 him, and then grumbles at her, I don t believe much in his 
 fine feelings. Why don t he set himself about something ? 
 I m going to tell my fine young gentleman that, if he 
 does n t behave himself, I 11 tumble him out of the nest, 
 neck and crop, and see if hunger won t do something 
 towards bringing down his fine airs." 
 
 But then Mrs. Nutcracker fell on her husband s neck 
 with both paws, and wept, and besought him so piteously 
 to have patience with her darling, that old Nutcracker, who 
 was himself a soft-hearted old squirrel, was prevailed upon 
 to put up with the airs and graces of his young scrapegrace 
 
14 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 a little longer ; and secretly in his silly old heart he re 
 volved the question whether possibly it might not be that 
 a great genius was actually to come of his household. 
 
 The Nutcrackers belonged to the old established race of 
 the Grays, but they were sociable, friendly people, and kept 
 on the best of terms with all branches of the Nutcracker 
 family. The Chipmunks of Chipmunk Hollow were a very 
 lively, cheerful, sociable race, and on the very best of terms 
 with the Nutcracker Grays. Young Tip Chipmunk, the 
 oldest son, was in all respects a perfect contrast to Master 
 Featherhead. He was always lively and cheerful, and so 
 very alert in providing for the family, that old Mr. and 
 Mrs. Chipmunk had very little care, but could sit sociably 
 at the door of their hole and chat with neighbors, quite 
 sure that Tip would bring everything out right for them, 
 and have plenty laid up for winter. Now Featherhead 
 took it upon him, for some reason or other, to look down 
 upon Tip Chipmunk, and on every occasion to disparage 
 him in the social circles as a very common kind of squirrel, 
 with whom it would be best not to associate too freely. 
 
 " My dear, " said Mrs. Nutcracker one day, when he was 
 expressing these ideas, " it seems to me that you are too 
 hard on poor Tip ; he is a most excellent son and brother, 
 and I wish you would be civil to him." 
 
 " Oh, I don t doubt that Tip is good enough, 7 said 
 Featherhead, carelessly ; " but then he is so very common ! 
 he has n t an idea in his skull above his nuts and his hole. 
 He is good-natured enough, to be sure, these very ordi 
 nary people often are good-natured, but he wants man 
 ner ; he has really no manner at all ; and as to the deeper 
 feelings, Tip has n t the remotest idea of them. I mean 
 always to be civil to Tip when he comes in my way, but 
 I think the less we see of that sort of people the better ; 
 and I hope, mother, you won t invite the Chipmunks at 
 Christmas, these family dinners are such a bore ! " 
 
THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE 15 
 
 " But my dear, your father thinks a great deal of the 
 Chipmunks ; and it is an old family custom to have all the 
 relatives here at Christmas." 
 
 " And an awful bore it is ! Why must people of refine 
 ment and elevation be forever tied down because of some 
 distant relationship ? Now there are our cousins the High- 
 Flyers, if we could get them, there would be some sense 
 in it. Young Whisk rather promised me for Christmas ; 
 but it s seldom now you can get a flying squirrel to show 
 himself in our parts, and if we are intimate with the Chip 
 munks it isn t to be expected." 
 
 " Confound him for a puppy ! " said old Nutcracker, 
 when his wife repeated these sayings to him. "Feather- 
 head is a fool. Common, forsooth ! I wish good indus 
 trious, painstaking sons like Tip Chipmunk were common. 
 For my part, I find these uncommon people the most tire 
 some ; they are not content with letting us carry the whole 
 load, but they sit on it, and scold at us while we carry 
 them." 
 
 But old Mr. Nutcracker, like many other good old gen 
 tlemen squirrels, found that Christmas dinners and other 
 things were apt to go as his wife said, and his wife was apt 
 to go as young Featherhead said ; and so, when Christmas 
 came, the Chipmunks were not invited, for the first time 
 in many years. The Chipmunks, however, took all pleas 
 antly, and accepted poor old Mrs. Nutcracker s awkward 
 apologies with the best possible grace, and young Tip looked 
 in on Christmas morning with the compliments of the season 
 and a few beech-nuts, which he had secured as a great 
 dainty. The fact was, that Tip s little striped fur coat was 
 so filled up and overflowing with cheerful good-will to all, 
 that he never could be made to understand that any of his 
 relations could want to cut him ; and therefore Featherhead 
 looked down on him with contempt, and said he had no 
 tact, and could n t see when he was not wanted. 
 
16 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 It was wonderful to see how, by means of persisting in 
 remarks like these, young Featherhead at last got all his 
 family to look up to him as something uncommon. Though 
 he added nothing to the family, and required more to be 
 done for him than all the others put together, though he 
 showed not the smallest real perseverance or ability in any 
 thing useful, yet somehow all his brothers and sisters, 
 and his poor foolish old mother, got into a way of regard 
 ing him as something wonderful, and delighting in his 
 sharp sayings as if they had been the wisest things in the 
 world. 
 
 But at last old papa declared that it was time for Feath- 
 erhead to settle himself to some business in life, roundly 
 declaring that he could not always have him as a hanger-on 
 in the paternal hole. 
 
 " What are you going to do, my boy ? " said Tip Chip 
 munk to him one day. " We are driving now a thriving 
 trade in hickory-nuts, and if you would like to join us " 
 
 " Thank you," said Featherhead ; " but I confess I have 
 no fancy for anything so slow as the hickory trade ; I never 
 was made to grub and delve in that way." 
 
 The fact was, that Featherhead had lately been forming 
 alliances such as no reputable squirrel should even think 
 of. He had more than once been seen going out evenings 
 with the Eats of Eat Hollow, a race whose reputation 
 for honesty was more than doubtful. The fact was, fur 
 ther, that old Longtooth Eat, an old sharper and money 
 lender, had long had his eye on Featherhead as just about 
 silly enough for their purposes, engaging him in what he 
 called a speculation, but which was neither more nor less 
 than downright stealing. 
 
 Near by the chestnut-tree where Nutcracker Lodge was 
 situated was a large barn filled with corn and grain, besides 
 many bushels of hazel-nuts, chestnuts, and walnuts. Now 
 old Longtooth proposed to young Featherhead that he 
 
THE NUTCEACKEKS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE 17 
 
 should nibble a passage into this loft, and there establish 
 himself in the commission business, passing the nuts and 
 corn to him as he wanted them. Old Longtooth knew 
 what he was about in the proposal, for he had heard talk 
 of a brisk Scotch terrier that was about to be bought to 
 keep the rats from the grain ; but you may be sure he kept 
 his knowledge to himself, so that Featherhead was none 
 the wiser for it. 
 
 " The nonsense of fellows like Tip Chipmunk ! " said 
 Featherhead to his admiring brothers and sisters. " The 
 perfectly stupid nonsense ! There he goes, delving and pok 
 ing, picking up a nut here and a grain there, when I step 
 into property at once." 
 
 " But I hope, my son, you are careful to be honest in 
 your dealings," said old Nutcracker, who was a very moral 
 squirrel. 
 
 With that, young Eeatherhead threw his tail saucily 
 over one shoulder, winked knowingly at his brothers, and 
 said, " Certainly, sir ! If honesty consists in getting what 
 you can while it is going, I mean to be honest." 
 
 Very soon Featherhead appeared to his admiring com 
 panions in the height of prosperity. He had a splendid 
 hole in the midst of a heap of chestnuts, and he literally 
 seemed to be rolling in wealth ; he never came home with 
 out showering lavish gifts on his mother and sisters ; he 
 wore his tail over his back with a buckish air, and patron 
 ized Tip Chipmunk with a gracious nod whenever he 
 met him, and thought that the world was going well with 
 him. 
 
 But one luckless day, as Featherhead was lolling in his 
 hole, up came two boys with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch 
 terrier you ever saw. His eyes blazed like torches, and poor 
 Featherhead s heart died within him as he heard the boys 
 say, " Now we 11 see if we can t catch the rascal that eats 
 our grain." 
 
18 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 Featherhead tried to slink out at the hole he had gnawed 
 to come in by, but found it stopped. 
 
 " Oh, you are there, are you, Mister ? " said the boy. 
 " Well, you don t get out ; and now for a chase ! " 
 
 And, sure enough, poor Featherhead ran distracted with 
 terror up and down, through the bundles of hay, between 
 barrels, and over casks ; but with the barking terrier ever 
 at his heels, and the boys running, shouting, and cheering 
 his pursuer on. He was glad at last to escape through a 
 crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him, 
 for Master Wasp, the terrier, made a snap at it just as he 
 was going, and cleaned all the hair off of it, so that it was 
 bare as a rat s tail. 
 
 Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten and be 
 draggled, with the boys and dog still after him ; and they 
 would have caught him, after all, if Tip Chipmunk s hole 
 had not stood hospitably open to receive him. Tip took 
 him in, like a good-natured fellow as he was, and took the 
 best of care of him ; but the glory of Featherhead s tail had 
 departed forever. He had sprained his left paw, and got a 
 chronic rheumatism, and the fright and fatigue which he 
 had gone through had broken up his constitution, so that 
 he never again could be what he had been ; but Tip gave 
 him a situation as under-clerk in his establishment, and from 
 that time he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he ever 
 had been before. 
 
THE HISTOEY OF TIP-TOP 
 
 UNDER the window of a certain pretty little cottage 
 there grew a great old apple-tree, which in the spring had 
 thousands and thousands of lovely pink blossoms on it, and 
 in the autumn had about half as many bright red apples as 
 it had blossoms in the spring. 
 
 The nursery of this cottage was a little bower of a room 
 papered with mossy-green paper, and curtained with white 
 muslin ; and here five little children used to come, in their 
 white nightgowns, to be dressed and have their hair brushed 
 and curled every morning. 
 
 First, there were Alice and Mary, bright-eyed, laughing 
 little girls, of seven and eight years, and then came stout 
 little Jamie, and Charlie, and finally little Puss, whose 
 real name was Ellen, but who was called Puss, and Pussy, 
 and Birdie, and Toddlie, and any other pet name that came 
 to mind. 
 
 Now it used to happen, every morning, that the five little 
 heads would be peeping out of the window, together, into 
 the flowery boughs of the apple-tree ; and the reason was 
 this. A pair of robins had built a very pretty, smooth- 
 lined nest in a fork of the limb that came directly under 
 the window, and the building of this nest had been super 
 intended, day by day, by the five pairs of bright eyes of 
 these five children. The robins at first had been rather shy 
 of this inspection ; but, as they got better acquainted, they 
 seemed to think no more of the little curly heads in the 
 window, than of the pink blossoms about them, or the 
 daisies and buttercups at the foot of the tree. 
 
20 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 All the little hands were forward to help ; some threw 
 out flossy bits of cotton, for which, we grieve to say, 
 Charlie had cut a hole in the crih quilt, and some threw 
 out bits of thread and yarn, and Allie raveled out a con 
 siderable piece from one of her garters, which she threw out 
 as a contribution ; and they exulted in seeing the skill with 
 which the little builders wove everything in. " Little 
 birds, little birds," they would say, " you shall be kept 
 warm, for we have given you cotton out of our crib quilt, 
 and yarn out of our stockings." Nay, so far did this gen 
 erosity proceed, that Charlie cut a flossy, golden curl from 
 Toddlie s head and threw it out ; and when the birds caught 
 it up the whole flock laughed to see Toddlie s golden hair 
 figuring in a bird s-nest. 
 
 When the little thing was finished, it was so neat, and 
 trim, and workman-like, that the children all exulted over 
 it, and called it " our nest," and the two robins they called 
 " our birds." But wonderful was the joy when the little 
 eyes, opening one morning, saw in the nest a beautiful pale- 
 green egg ; and the joy grew from day to day, for every 
 day there came another egg, and so on till there were five 
 little eggs ; and then the oldest girl, Alice, said, " There 
 are five eggs ; that makes one for each of us, and each of 
 us will have a little bird by and by ; " at which all the 
 children laughed and jumped for glee. 
 
 When the five little eggs were all laid, the mother-bird 
 began to sit on them ; and at any time of day or night, 
 when a little head peeped out of the nursery window, might 
 be seen a round, bright, patient pair of bird s eyes content 
 edly waiting for the young birds to come. It seemed a 
 long time for the children to wait ; but every day they put 
 some bread and cake from their luncheon on the window- 
 sill, so that the birds might have something to eat ; but 
 still there she was, patiently watching ! 
 
 " How long, long, long she waits ! " said Jamie, im 
 patiently. " I don t believe she ? s ever going to hatch." 
 
THE HISTOKY OF TIP-TOP 21 
 
 " Oh, yes, she is ! " said grave little Alice. " Jamie, you 
 don t understand -about these things ; it takes a long, long 
 time to hatch eggs. Old Sam says his hens set three 
 weeks ; only think, almost a month ! " 
 
 Three weeks looked a long time to the five bright pairs 
 of little watching eyes ; but Jamie said the eggs were so 
 much smaller than hens eggs, that it would n t take so long 
 to hatch them, he knew. Jamie always thought he knew 
 all about everything, and was so sure of it that he rather 
 took the lead among the children. But one morning, when 
 they pushed their five heads out of the window, the round, 
 patient little bird-eyes were gone, and there seemed to be 
 nothing in the nest but a bunch of something hairy. 
 
 Upon this they all cried out, " mamma, do come here ! 
 the bird is gone and left her nest ! " And when they cried 
 out, they saw five wide little red mouths open in the nest, 
 and saw that the hairy bunch of stuff was indeed the first 
 of five little birds. 
 
 " They are dreadful-looking things/ 7 said Mary ; " I did 
 n t know that little birds began by looking so badly." 
 
 " They seem to be all mouth," said Jamie. 
 
 " We must feed them," said Charlie. 
 
 "Here, little birds, here s some gingerbread for you," 
 he said ; and he threw a bit of his gingerbread, which for 
 tunately only hit the nest on the outside, and fell down 
 among the buttercups, where two crickets made a meal of 
 it, and agreed that it was as excellent gingerbread as if old 
 Mother Cricket herself had made it. 
 
 " Take care, Charlie," said his mamma ; " we do not 
 know enough to feed young birds. We must leave it to 
 their papa and mamma, who probably started out bright 
 and early in the morning to get breakfast for them." 
 
 Sure enough, while they were speaking, back came Mr. 
 and Mrs. Robin, whirring through the green shadows of 
 the apple-tree ; and thereupon all the five little red mouths 
 flew open, and the birds put something into each. 
 
22 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 It was great amusement, after this, to watch the daily 
 feeding of the little birds, and to observe how, when not 
 feeding them, the mother sat brooding on the nest, warm 
 ing them under her soft wings, while the father-bird sat on 
 the tip-top bough of the apple-tree and sang to them. In 
 time they grew and grew, and, instead of a nest full of 
 little red mouths, there was a nest full of little, fat, speckled 
 robins, with round, bright, cunning eyes, just like their 
 parents ; and the children began to talk together about 
 their birds. 
 
 " I m going to give my robin a name," said Mary. " I 
 call him Brown-Eyes." 
 
 " And I call mine Tip-Top, 7 said Jamie, " because I 
 know he 11 be a tip-top bird." 
 
 " And I call mine Singer," said Alice. 
 
 " I all mine Toddy," said little Toddlie, who would not 
 be behindhand in anything that was going on. 
 
 " Hurrah for Toddlie ! " said Charlie, " hers is the best 
 of all. For my part, I call mine Speckle." 
 
 So then the birds were all made separate characters by 
 having each a separate name given it. Brown-Eyes, Tip- 
 Top, Singer, Toddy, and Speckle made, as they grew big 
 ger, a very crowded nestful of birds. 
 
 Now the children had early been taught to say in a lit 
 tle hymn : 
 
 " Birds in their little nests agree, 
 And t is a shameful sight 
 When children of one family 
 
 Fall out, and chide, and fight ; " 
 
 and they thought anything really written and printed in a 
 hymn must be true ; therefore they were very much aston 
 ished to see, from day to day, that their little birds in their 
 nests did not agree. 
 
 Tip-Top was the biggest and strongest bird, and he was 
 always shuffling and crowding the others, and clamoring 
 for the most food j and when Mrs. Robin came in with a 
 
THE HISTORY OF TIP-TOP 23 
 
 nice bit of anything, Tip-Top s red mouth opened so wide, 
 and he was so noisy, that one would think the nest was all 
 his. His mother used to correct him for these gluttonous 
 ways, and sometimes made him wait till all the rest were 
 helped "before she gave him a mouthful ; but he generally 
 revenged himself in her absence by crowding the others 
 and making the nest generally uncomfortable. Speckle, 
 however, was a bird of spirit, and he used to peck at Tip- 
 Top ; so they would sometimes have a regular sparring- 
 match across poor Brown-Eyes, who was a meek, tender lit 
 tle fellow, and would sit winking and blinking in fear 
 while his big brothers quarreled. As to Toddy and Singer, 
 they turned out to be sister birds, and showed quite a fem 
 inine talent for chattering ; they used to scold their badly 
 behaving brothers in a way that made the nest quite lively. 
 
 On the whole, Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not find their 
 family circle the peaceable place the poets represent. 
 
 " I say," said Tip-Top one day to them, ll this old nest 
 is a dull, mean, crowded hole, and it s quite time some of 
 us were out of it ; just give us lessons in flying, won t you, 
 and let us go." 
 
 "My dear boy," said Mother Kobin, " we shall teach you 
 to fly as soon as your wings are strong enough." 
 
 " You are a very little bird," said his father, " and ought 
 to be good and obedient, and wait patiently till your wing- 
 feathers grow ; and then you can soar away to some pur 
 pose." 
 
 " Wait for my wing-feathers ? Humbug ! " Tip-Top 
 would say, as he sat balancing with his little short tail on 
 the edge of the nest, and looking down through the grass 
 and clover-heads below, and up into the blue clouds above. 
 " Father and mother are slow old birds ; keep a fellow 
 back with their confounded notions. If they don t hurry 
 up, I 11 take matters into my own claws, and be off some 
 day before they know it. Look at those swallows, skim- 
 
24 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 ming and diving through the blue air ! That s the way 
 I want to do." 
 
 " But, dear brother, the way to learn to do that is to be 
 good and obedient while we are little, and wait till our 
 parents think it best for us to begin." 
 
 " Shut up your preaching," said Tip-Top j " what do you 
 girls know of flying ? " 
 
 " About as much as you" said Speckle. " However, 
 1 m sure I don t care how soon you take yourself off, for 
 you take up more room than all the rest put together." 
 
 "You mind yourself, Master Speckle, or you 11 get some 
 thing you don t like," said Tip-Top, still strutting in a very 
 cavalier way on the edge of the nest, and sticking up his 
 little short tail quite valiantly. 
 
 " my darlings," said the mamma, now fluttering home, 
 " cannot I ever teach you to live in love ? " 
 
 " It s all Tip-Top s fault," screamed the other birds in 
 a flutter. 
 
 " My fault ? Of course, everything in this nest that goes 
 wrong is laid to me," said Tip-Top ; " and I 11 leave it to 
 anybody, now, if I crowd anybody. I ve been sitting out 
 side, on the very edge of the nest, and there s Speckle has 
 got my place." 
 
 " Who wants your place ? " said Speckle. " I am sure 
 you can come in, if you please." 
 
 " My dear boy," said the mother, " do go into the nest 
 and be a good little bird, and then you will be happy." 
 
 " That s always the talk," said Tip-Top. " I m too big 
 for the nest, and I want to see the world. It s full of 
 beautiful things, I know. Now there s the most lovely crea 
 ture, with bright eyes, that comes under the tree every day, 
 and wants me to come down in the grass and play with her." 
 
 " My son, my son, beware ! " said the frightened mother j 
 " that lovely seeming creature is our dreadful enemy, the 
 cat, a horrid monster, with teeth and claws." 
 
THE HISTORY OF TIP-TOP 25 
 
 At this, all the little birds shuddered and cuddled deeper 
 in the nest; only Tip-Top, in his heart, disbelieved it. 
 
 " I m too old a bird," said he to himself, " to believe 
 that story ; mother is chaffing me. But I 11 show her that 
 I can take care of myself." 
 
 So the next morning, after the father and mother were 
 gone, Tip-Top got on the edge of the nest again, and looked 
 over and saw lovely Miss Pussy washing her face among 
 the daisies under the tree, and her hair was sleek and white 
 as the daisies, and her eyes were yellow and beautiful to 
 behold, and she looked up to the tree bewitchingly, and 
 said, " Little birds, little birds, come down ; Pussy wants 
 to play with you." 
 
 " Only look at her ! " said Tip-Top ; " her eyes are like 
 gold." 
 
 " No, don t look," said Singer and Speckle. " She will 
 bewitch you and then eat you up." 
 
 " I d like to see her try to eat me up," said Tip-Top, 
 again balancing his short tail over the nest. " Just as if 
 she would. She s just the nicest, most innocent creature 
 going, and only wants us to have fun. We never do have 
 any fun in this old nest ! " 
 
 Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into 
 Tip-Top s eyes, and a voice sounded sweet as silver : 
 " Little birds, little birds, come down ; Pussy wants to 
 play with you." 
 
 " Her paws are as white as velvet," said Tip-Top ; " and 
 so soft ! I don t believe she has any claws." 
 
 " Don t go, brother, don t ! " screamed both sisters. 
 
 All we know about it is, that a moment after a direful 
 scream was heard from the nursery window. " mamma, 
 mamma, do come here ! Tip-Top s fallen out of the nest, 
 and the cat has got him ! " 
 
 Away ran Pussy with foolish little Tip-Top in her 
 mouth, and he squeaked dolefully when he felt her sharp 
 
26 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 teeth. Wicked Miss Pussy had no mind to eat him at 
 once ; she meant just as she said, to " play with him." 
 So she ran off to a private place among the currant-bushes, 
 while all the little curly heads were scattered up and down 
 looking for her. 
 
 Did you ever see a cat play with a bird or a mouse ? 
 She sets it down, and seems to go off and leave it ; but the 
 moment it makes the first movement to get away, pounce ! 
 she springs on it, and shakes it in her mouth ; and so she 
 teases and tantalizes it, till she gets ready to kill and eat it. 
 I can t say why she does it, except that it is a cat s nature ; 
 and it is a very bad nature for foolish young robins to get 
 acquainted with. 
 
 " Oh, where is he ? where is he ? Do find my poor Tip- 
 Top," said Jamie, crying as loud as he could scream. "I ll 
 kill that horrid cat, I 11 kill her ! " 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Eobin, who had come home meantime, 
 joined their plaintive chirping to the general confusion ; 
 and Mrs. Robin s bright eyes soon discovered her poor 
 little son, where Pussy was patting and rolling him from 
 one paw to the other under the currant-bushes ; and settling 
 on the bush above, she called the little folks to the spot by 
 her cries. 
 
 Jamie plunged under the bush, and caught the cat with 
 luckless Tip-Top in her mouth ; and, with one or two good 
 thumps, he obliged her to let him go. Tip-Top was not 
 dead, but in a sadly draggled and torn state. Some of his 
 feathers were torn out, and one of his wings was broken, 
 and hung down in a melancholy way. 
 
 " Oh, what shall we do for him ? He will die. Poor 
 Tip-Top ! " said the children. 
 
 " Let ? s put him back into the nest, children," said 
 mamma. "His mother will know best what to do with 
 him." 
 
 So a ladder was got, and papa climbed up and put poor 
 
THE HISTOEY OF TIP-TOP 27 
 
 Tip-Top safely into the nest. The cat had shaken all the 
 nonsense well out of him ; he was a dreadfully humbled 
 young robin. 
 
 The time came at last when all the other birds in the 
 nest learned to fly, and fluttered and flew about everywhere ; 
 but poor melancholy Tip-Top was still confined to the nest 
 with a broken wing. Finally, as it became evident that it 
 would be long before he could fly, Jamie took him out of 
 the nest, and made a nice little cage for him, and used to 
 feed him every day, and he would hop about and seem 
 tolerably contented ; but it was evident that he would be 
 a lame-winged robin all his days. 
 
 Jamie s mother told him that Tip-Top s history was an 
 allegory. 
 
 " I don t know what you mean, mamma," said Jamie. 
 
 " When something in a bird s life is like something in a 
 boy s life, or when a story is similar in its meaning to reality, 
 we call it an allegory. Little boys, when they are about 
 half grown up, sometimes do just as Tip-Top did. They are 
 in a great hurry to get away from home into the great world ; 
 and then Temptation comes, with bright eyes and smooth 
 velvet paws, and promises them fun ; and they go to bad 
 places ; they get to smoking, and then to drinking ; and, 
 finally, the bad habit gets them in its teeth and claws, and 
 plays with them as a cat does with a mouse. They try to 
 reform, just as your robin tried to get away from the cat ; 
 but their bad habits pounce on them and drag them back. 
 And so, when the time comes that they want to begin life, 
 they are miserable, broken-down creatures, like your broken- 
 winged robin. 
 
 " So, Jamie, remember, and don t try to be a man before 
 your time, and let your parents judge for you while you are 
 young ; and never believe in any soft white Pussy, with 
 golden eyes, that comes and wants to tempt you to come 
 
28 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 down and play with her. If a big boy offers to teach you 
 to smoke a cigar, that is Pussy. If a boy wants you to 
 go into a billiard-saloon, that is Pussy. If a boy wants you 
 to learn to drink anything with spirit in it, however sweet 
 ened and disguised, remember, Pussy is there ; and Pussy s 
 claws are long, and Pussy s teeth are strong ; and if she 
 gives you one shake in your youth, you will be like a 
 broken-winged robin all your days." 
 
MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CEICKET 
 
 Miss KATY-DID sat on the branch of a flowering azalia, 
 in her best suit of fine green and silver, with wings of 
 point-lace from Mother Nature s web. 
 
 Miss Katy was in the very highest possible spirits, be 
 cause her gallant cousin, Colonel Katy-did, had looked in 
 to make her a morning visit. It was a fine morning, too, 
 which goes for as much among the Katy-dids as among men 
 and women. It was, in fact, a morning that Miss Katy 
 thought must have been made on purpose for her to enjoy 
 herself in. There had been a patter of rain the night be 
 fore, which had kept the leaves awake talking to each other 
 till nearly morning, but by dawn the small winds had blown 
 brisk little puff s, and whisked the heavens clear and bright 
 with their tiny wings, as you have seen Susan clear away 
 the cobwebs in your mamma s parlor ; and so now there 
 were only left a thousand blinking, burning water-drops, 
 hanging like convex mirrors at the end of each leaf, and 
 Miss Kate admired herself in each one. 
 
 " Certainly I am a pretty creature," she said to herself ; 
 and when the gallant Colonel said something about being 
 dazzled by her beauty, she only tossed her head and took 
 it as quite a matter of course. 
 
 " The fact is, my dear Colonel," she said, " I am think 
 ing of giving a party, and you must help me make out the 
 lists." 
 
 " My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-dids." 
 
 "Now," said Miss Katy-did, drawing an azalia-leaf to 
 wards her, " let us see, whom shall we have ? The 
 
30 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 Fireflies, of course; everybody wants them, they are so 
 brilliant ; a little unsteady, to be sure, but quite in the 
 higher circles." 
 
 " Yes, we must have the Fireflies/ 7 echoed the Colonel. 
 
 " Well, then, and the Butterflies and the Moths. 
 Now, there s a trouble. There s such an everlasting tribe 
 of these Moths ; and if you invite dull people they re 
 always sure all to come, every one of them. Still, if you 
 have the Butterflies, you can t leave out the Moths." 
 
 " Old Mrs. Moth has been laid up lately with a gastric 
 fever, and that may keep two or three of the Misses Moth 
 at home," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Whatever could give the old lady such a turn ? " said 
 Miss Katy. " I thought she never was sick." 
 
 " I suspect it s high living. I understand she and her 
 family ate up a whole ermine cape last month, and it disa 
 greed with them." 
 
 " For my part, I can t conceive how the Moths can live 
 as they do," said Miss Katy with a face of disgust. " Why, 
 I could no more eat worsted and fur, as they do " 
 
 " That is quite evident from the fairy-like delicacy of 
 your appearance," said the Colonel. " One can see that 
 nothing so gross or material has ever entered into your 
 system." 
 
 " I m sure," said Miss Katy, " mamma says she don t 
 know what does keep me alive ; half a dewdrop and a little 
 bit of the nicest part of a rose-leaf, I assure you, often last 
 me for a day. But we are forgetting our list. Let s see, 
 the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths. The Bees must come, 
 I suppose." 
 
 " The Bees are a worthy family," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Worthy enough, but dreadfully humdrum," said Miss 
 Katy. " They never talk about anything but honey and 
 housekeeping ; still, they are a class of people one cannot 
 neglect." 
 
MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET 31 
 
 "Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees." 
 
 " Oh, I dote on them ! General Bumble is one of the 
 most dashing, brilliant fellows of the day." 
 
 " I think he is shockingly corpulent," said Colonel Katy 
 did, not at all pleased to hear him praised; "don t 
 you ? " 
 
 " I don t know but he is a little stout," said Miss Katy ; 
 " but so distinguished and elegant in his manners, some 
 thing martial and breezy about him." 
 
 " Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees you must have 
 the Hornets." 
 
 " Those spiteful Hornets, I detest them ! " 
 
 "Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to 
 offend the Hornets." 
 
 " No, one can t. There are those five Misses Hornet, 
 dreadful old maids ! as full of spite as they can live. 
 You may be sure they will every one come, and be looking 
 about to make spiteful remarks. Put down the Hornets, 
 though." 
 
 " How about the Mosquitoes ! " said the Colonel. 
 
 " Those horrid Mosquitoes, they are dreadfully plebe 
 ian ! Can t one cut them ? " 
 
 "Well, dear Miss Katy," said the Colonel, "if you ask 
 my candid opinion as a friend, I should say not. There s 
 young Mosquito, who graduated last year, has gone into 
 literature, and is connected with some of our leading papers, 
 and they say he carries the sharpest pen of all the writers. 
 It won t do to offend him." 
 
 " And so I suppose we must have his old aunts, and all 
 six of his sisters, and all his dreadfully common relations." 
 
 "It is a pity," said the Colonel, " but one must pay 
 one s tax to society." 
 
 Just at this moment the conference was interrupted by a 
 visitor, Miss Keziah Cricket, who came in with her work- 
 bag on her arm to ask a subscription for a poor family of 
 
32 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 Ants who had just had their house hoed up in clearing the 
 garden-walks. 
 
 " How stupid of them," said Katy, " not to know better 
 than to put their house in the garden-walk ; that s just like 
 those Ants ! " 
 
 " Well, they are in great trouble ; all their stores de 
 stroyed, and their father killed, cut quite in two by a 
 hoe." 
 
 " How very shocking ! I don t like to hear of such dis 
 agreeable things, it affects my nerves terribly. Well, I m 
 sure I have n t anything to give. Mamma said yesterday 
 she was sure she did n t know how our bills were to be 
 paid, and there s my green satin with point-lace yet to 
 come home." And Miss Katy-did shrugged her shoulders 
 and affected to be very busy with Colonel Katy-did, in just 
 the way that young ladies sometimes do when they wish to 
 signify to visitors that they had better leave. 
 
 Little Miss Cricket perceived how the case stood, and so 
 hopped briskly off, without giving herself even time to be 
 offended. 
 
 " Poor extravagant little thing ! " said she to herself, 
 " it was hardly worth while to ask her." 
 
 " Pray, shall you invite the Crickets ? " said Colonel 
 Katy-did. 
 
 " Who ? I ? Why, Colonel, what a question ! Invite 
 the Crickets ? Of what can you be thinking ? " 
 
 " And shall you not ask the Locusts, or the Grass 
 hoppers ? " 
 
 " Certainly. The Locusts, of course, a very old and 
 distinguished family ; and the Grasshoppers are pretty well, 
 and ought to be asked. But we must draw a line some 
 where, and the Crickets ! why, it s shocking even to 
 think of ! " 
 
 " I thought they were nice, respectable people." 
 
 " Oh, perfectly nice and respectable, very good people, 
 
MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET 33 
 
 in fact, so far as that goes. But then you must see the 
 difficulty." 
 
 " My dear cousin, I am afraid you must explain." 
 
 " Why, their color, to be sure. Don t you see ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Colonel. " That s it, is it ? Excuse 
 me, but I have been living in France, where these distinc 
 tions are wholly unknown, and I have not yet got myself 
 in the train of fashionable ideas here." 
 
 " Well, then, let me teach you," said Miss Katy. " You 
 know we republicans go for no distinctions except those 
 created by Nature herself, and we found our rank upon 
 color, because that is clearly a thing that none has any hand 
 in but our Maker. You see ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but who decides what color shall be the reigning 
 color ? " 
 
 " I m surprised to hear the question ! The only true 
 color the only proper one is our color, to be sure. A 
 lovely pea-green is the precise shade on which to found 
 aristocratic distinction. But then we are liberal ; we as 
 sociate with the Moths, who are gray ; with the Butterflies, 
 who are blue-and-gold-colored ; with the Grasshoppers, yel 
 low and brown ; and society would become dreadfully 
 mixed if it were not fortunately ordered that the Crickets 
 are black as jet. The fact is, that a class to be looked 
 down upon is necessary to all elegant society, and if the 
 Crickets were not black, we could not keep them down, 
 because, as everybody knows, they are often a great deal 
 cleverer than we are. They have a vast talent for music 
 and dancing ; they are very quick at learning, and would 
 be getting to the very top of the ladder if we once allowed 
 them to climb. But their being black is a convenience, 
 because, as long as we are green and they black, we have a 
 superiority that can never be taken from us. Don t you 
 see, now ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I see exactly," said the Colonel. 
 
34 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " Now that Keziah Cricket, who just came in here, is 
 quite a musician, and her old father plays the violin beau 
 tifully ; by the way, we might engage him for our or 
 chestra." 
 
 And so Miss Katy s hall came off, and the performers 
 kept it up from sundown till daybreak, so that it seemed as 
 if every leaf in the forest were alive. The Katy-dids, and 
 the Mosquitoes, and the Locusts, and a full orchestra of 
 Crickets made the air perfectly vibrate, insomuch that old 
 Parson Too -whit, who was preaching a Thursday evening 
 lecture to a very small audience, announced to his hearers 
 that he should certainly write a discourse against dancing 
 for the next weekly occasion. 
 
 The good Doctor was even with his word in the matter, 
 and gave out some very sonorous discourses, without in the 
 least stopping the round of gayeties kept up by these dissi 
 pated Katy-dids, which ran on, night after night, till the 
 celebrated Jack Frost epidemic, which occurred somewhere 
 about the first of September. 
 
 Poor Miss Katy, with her flimsy green satin and point- 
 lace, was one of the first victims, and fell from the bough 
 in company with a sad shower of last year s leaves. The 
 worthy Cricket family, however, avoided Jack Frost by 
 emigrating in time to the chimney-corner of a nice little 
 cottage that had been built in the wood that summer. 
 
 There good old Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, with sprightly 
 Miss Keziah and her brothers and sisters, found a warm 
 and welcome home ; and when the storm howled without, 
 and lashed the poor naked trees, the Crickets on the warm 
 hearth would chirp out cheery welcome to papa as he came 
 in from the snowy path, or mamma as she sat at her work- 
 basket. 
 
 " Cheep, cheep, cheep ! " little Freddy would say. " Mam 
 ma, who is it says cheep ? ? " 
 
MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET 35 
 
 " Dear Freddy, it 7 s our own dear little cricket, who 
 loves us and comes to sing to us when the snow is on the 
 ground." 
 
 So when poor Miss Katy-did s satin and lace were all 
 swept away, the warm home-talents of the Crickets made 
 for them a welcome refuge. 
 
MOTHEE MAGPIE S MISCHIEF 
 
 OLD MOTHER MAGPIE was about the busiest character 
 in the forest. But you must know that there is a great 
 difference between being busy and being industrious. One 
 may be very busy all the time, and yet not in the least in 
 dustrious ; and this was the case with Mother Magpie. 
 
 She was always full of everybody s business but her own, 
 up and down, here and there, everywhere but in her own 
 nest, knowing every one s affairs, telling what everybody 
 had been doing or ought to do, and ready to cast her advice 
 gratis at every bird and beast of the woods. 
 
 Now she bustled up to the parsonage at the top of the 
 oak-tree, to tell old Parson Too-whit what she thought he 
 ought to preach for his next sermon, and how dreadful the 
 morals of the parish were becoming. Then, having per 
 fectly bewildered the poor old gentleman, who was always 
 sleepy of a Monday morning, Mother Magpie would take 
 a peep into Mrs. Oriole s nest, sit chattering on a bough 
 above, and pour forth floods of advice, which, poor little 
 Mrs. Oriole used to say to her husband, bewildered her more 
 than a hard northeast storm. 
 
 " Depend upon it, my dear," Mother Magpie would say, 
 " that this way of building your nest, swinging like an old 
 empty stocking from a bough, is n t at all the thing. I 
 never built one so in my life, and I never have headaches. 
 Now you complain always that your head aches whenever I 
 call upon you. It ? s all on account of this way of swinging 
 and swaying about in such an absurd manner." 
 
 " But, my dear," piped Mrs. Oriole, timidly, " the Orioles 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE S MISCHIEF 37 
 
 always have built in this manner, and it suits our consti 
 tution." 
 
 " A fiddle on our constitution ! How can you tell what 
 agrees with your constitution unless you try ? You own 
 you are not well ; you are subject to headaches, and every 
 physician will tell you that a tilting motion disorders the 
 stomach and acts upon the brain. Ask old Dr. Kite. I 
 was talking with him about your case only yesterday, and 
 says he, Mrs. Magpie, I perfectly agree with you. r 
 
 " But my husband prefers this style of building." 
 
 "That s only because he is n t properly instructed. 
 Pray, did you ever attend Dr. Kite s lectures on the ner 
 vous system ? " 
 
 "No, I have no time to attend lectures. Who would 
 set on the eggs ? " 
 
 " Why, your husband, to be sure ; don t he take his 
 turn in setting ? If he don t he ought to. I shall speak 
 to him about it. My husband always sets regularly half 
 the time, that I might have time to go about and exercise." 
 
 " Mrs. Magpie, pray don t speak to my husband ; he 
 will think I ve been complaining." 
 
 " No, no, he won t ! Let me alone. I understand just 
 how to say the thing. I ve advised hundreds of young 
 husbands in my day, and I never give offence." 
 
 " But I tell you, Mrs. Magpie, I don t want any inter 
 ference between my husband and me, and I will not have 
 it," says Mrs. Oriole, with her little round eyes flashing. 
 
 " Don t put yourself in a passion, my dear ; the more 
 you talk, the more sure I am that your nervous system is 
 running down, or you would n t forget good manners in this 
 way. You d better take my advice, for I understand just 
 what to do," and away sails Mother Magpie ; and pres 
 ently young Oriole comes home, all in a flutter. 
 
 " I say, my dear, if you will persist in gossiping over our 
 private family matters with that old Mother Magpie " 
 
38 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " My dear, I don t gossip ; she comes and bores me to 
 death with talking, and then goes off and mistakes what 
 she has been saying for what I said." 
 
 " But you must cut her." 
 
 " I try to, all I can ; but she won t be cut." 
 
 " It } s enough to make a bird swear," said Tommy Oriole. 
 
 Tommy Oriole, to say the truth, had as good a heart as 
 ever beat under bird s feathers ; but then he had a weakness 
 for concerts and general society, because he was held to be, 
 by all odds, the handsomest bird in the woods, and sung like 
 an angel ; and so the truth was he did n t confine himself 
 so much to the domestic nest as Tom Titmouse or Billy 
 Wren. But he determined that he would n t have old 
 Mother Magpie interfering with his affairs. 
 
 " The fact is," quoth Tommy, " I am a society bird, and 
 Nature has marked out for me a course beyond the range of 
 the commonplace, and my wife must learn to accommodate. 
 If she has a brilliant husband, whose success gratifies her 
 ambition and places her in a distinguished public position, 
 she must pay something for it. I m sure Billy Wren s wife 
 would give her very bill to see her husband in the circles 
 where I am quite at home. To say the truth, my wife was 
 all well enough content till old Mother Magpie interfered. 
 It is quite my duty to take strong ground, and show that I 
 cannot be dictated to." 
 
 So, after this, Tommy Oriole went to rather more con 
 certs, and spent less time at home than ever he did before, 
 which was all that Mother Magpie effected in that quarter. 
 I confess this was very bad in Tommy ; but then birds are 
 no better than men in domestic matters, and sometimes will 
 take the most unreasonable courses, if a meddlesome Mag 
 pie gets her claw into their nest. 
 
 But old Mother Magpie had now got a new business in 
 hand in another quarter. She bustled off down to Water- 
 dock Lane, where, as we said in a former narrative, lived 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE S MISCHIEF 39 
 
 the old music-teacher, Dr. Bullfrog. The poor old Doctor 
 was a simple-minded, good, amiable creature, who had played 
 the double-bass and led the forest choir on all public occa 
 sions since nobody knows when. Latterly some youngsters 
 had arisen who sneered at his performances as behind the 
 age. In fact, since a great city had grown up in the vicinity 
 of the forest, tribes of wandering boys broke up the simple 
 tastes and quiet habits which old Mother Nature had always 
 kept up in those parts. They pulled the young checker- 
 berry before it even had time to blossom, rooted up the 
 sassafras shrubs and gnawed their roots, fired off guns at 
 the birds, and, on several occasions when old Dr. Bullfrog 
 was leading a concert, had dashed in and broken up the 
 choir by throwing stones. 
 
 This was not the worst of it. The little varlets had a 
 way of jeering at the simple old Doctor and his concerts, 
 and mimicking the tones of his bass-viol. " There you go, 
 Paddy-go-donk, Paddy-go-donk umph chunk, 7 some ras 
 cal of a boy would shout, while poor old Bullfrog s yellow 
 spectacles would be bedewed with tears of honest indignation. 
 In time, the jeers of these little savages began to tell on 
 the society in the forest, and to corrupt their simple man 
 ners ; and it was whispered among the younger and more 
 heavy birds and squirrels, that old Bullfrog was a bore, and 
 that it was time to get up a new style of music in the 
 parish, and to give the charge of it to some more modern 
 performer. Poor old Dr. Bullfrog knew nothing of this, 
 however, and was doing his simple best, in peace, when 
 Mother Magpie called in upon him, one morning. 
 
 " Well, neighbor, how unreasonable people are ! Who 
 would have thought that the youth of our generation 
 should have no more consideration for established merit ? 
 Now, for my part, / think your music-teaching never was 
 better ; and as for our choir, I maintain constantly that it 
 never was in better order, but Well, one may wear her 
 
40 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 tongue out, but one can never make these young folks lis 
 ten to reason. 7 
 
 " I really don t understand you, ma am," said poor Dr. 
 Bullfrog. 
 
 " What ! you have n t heard of a committee that is go 
 ing to call on you, to ask you to resign the care of the par 
 ish music ? " 
 
 " Madam," said Dr. Bullfrog, with all that energy of 
 tone for which he was remarkable, " I don t believe it, I 
 can t believe it. You must have made a mistake." 
 
 " I mistake ! No, no, my good friend ; I never make 
 mistakes. What I know, I know certainly. Was n t it I 
 that said I knew there was an engagement between Tim 
 Chipmunk and Nancy Nibble, who are married this blessed 
 day ? I knew that thing six weeks before any bird or 
 beast in our parts ; and I can tell you, you are going to be 
 scandalously and ungratefully treated, Dr. Bullfrog." 
 
 " Bless me, we shall all be ruined ! " said Mrs. Bullfrog ; 
 u my poor husband " 
 
 " Oh, as to that, if you take things in time, and listen to 
 my advice," said Mother Magpie, " we may yet pull you 
 through. You must alter your style a little, adapt it to 
 modern times. Everybody now is a little touched with the 
 operatic fever, and there s Tommy Oriole has been to New 
 Orleans and brought back a touch of the artistic. If you 
 would try his style a little, something Tyrolean, you 
 see." 
 
 "Dear madam, consider my voice. I never could hit 
 the high notes." 
 
 " How do you know ? It s all practice ; Tommy Oriole 
 says so. Just try the scales. As to your voice, your man 
 ner of living has a great deal to do with it. I always did 
 tell you that your passion for water injured your singing. 
 Suppose Tommy Oriole should sit half his days up to his 
 hips in water, as you do, his voice would be as hoarse 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE S MISCHIEF 41 
 
 and rough as yours. Come up on the bank, and learn to 
 perch as we birds do. We are the true musical race. 77 
 
 And so poor Mr. Bullfrog was persuaded to forego his 
 pleasant little cottage under the cat-tails, where his yellow 
 spectacles and honest round back had excited, even in the 
 minds of the boys, sentiments of respect and compassion. 
 He came up into the garden, and established himself under 
 a burdock, and began to practise Italian scales. 
 
 The result was, that poor old Dr. Bullfrog, instead of 
 being considered as a respectable old bore, got himself uni 
 versally laughed at for aping fashionable manners. Every 
 bird and beast in the forest had a gibe at him ; and even 
 old Parson Too -whit thought it worth his while to make 
 him a pastoral call, and admonish him about courses unbe 
 fitting his age and standing. As to Mother Magpie, you 
 may be sure that she assured every one how sorry she was 
 that dear old Dr. Bullfrog had made such a fool of him 
 self ; if he had taken her advice, he would have kept on 
 respectably as a nice old Bullfrog should. 
 
 But the tragedy for the poor old music-teacher grew even 
 more melancholy in its termination ; for one day as he was 
 sitting disconsolately under a currant-bush in the garden, 
 practising his poor old notes in a quiet way, thump came 
 a great blow of a hoe, which nearly broke his back. 
 
 " Hullo ! what ugly beast have we got here ? " said Tom 
 Noakes, the gardener s boy. " Here, here, Wasp, my boy." 
 
 What a fright for a poor, quiet, old Bullfrog, as little 
 wiry, wicked Wasp came at him, barking and yelping. He 
 jumped with all his force sheer over a patch of bushes into 
 the river, and swam back to his old home among the cat 
 tails. And always after that it was observable that he was 
 very low-spirited, and took very dark views of life ; but 
 nothing made him so angry as any allusion to Mother Mag 
 pie, of whom, from that time, he never spoke except as 
 Old Mother Mischief. 
 
THE SQUIEEELS THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE 
 
 ONCE upon a time a gentleman went out into a great 
 forest, and cut away the trees, and built there a very nice 
 little cottage. It was set very low on the ground, and had 
 very large bow-windows, and so much of it was glass that 
 one could look through it on every side and see what was 
 going on in the forest. You could see the shadows of the 
 fern-leaves, as they nickered and wavered over the ground, 
 and the scarlet partridge-berry and wintergreen plums that 
 matted round the roots of the trees, and the bright spots 
 of sunshine that fell through their branches and went danc 
 ing about among the bushes and leaves at their roots. 
 You could see the little chipping sparrows and thrushes 
 and robins and bluebirds building their nests here and 
 there among the branches, and watch them from day to day 
 as they laid their eggs and hatched their young. You could 
 also see red squirrels, and gray squirrels, and little striped 
 chip-squirrels, darting and springing about, here and there 
 and everywhere, running races with each other from bough 
 to bough, and chattering at each other in the gayest possi 
 ble manner. 
 
 You may be sure that such a strange thing as a great 
 mortal house for human beings to live in did not come into 
 this wild wood without making quite a stir and excitement 
 among the inhabitants that lived there before. All the 
 time it was building, there was the greatest possible com 
 motion in the breasts of all the older population ; and there 
 was n t even a black ant, or a cricket, that did not have his 
 own opinion about it, and did not tell the other ants and 
 
THE SQUIRKELS THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE 43 
 
 crickets just what he thought the world was coming to in 
 consequence. 
 
 Old Mrs. B/abbit declared that the hammering and 
 pounding made her nervous, and gave her most melancholy 
 forebodings of evil times. " Depend upon it, children," 
 she said to her long-eared family, " no good will come to 
 us from this establishment. Where man is, there comes 
 always trouble for us poor rabbits. 
 
 The old chestnut-tree, that grew on the edge of the 
 woodland ravine, drew a great sigh which shook all his 
 leaves, and expressed it as his conviction that no good 
 would ever come of it, a conviction that at once struck 
 to the heart of every chestnut-burr. The squirrels talked 
 together of the dreadful state of things that would ensue. 
 "Why ! " said old Father Gray, "it s evident that Nature 
 made the nuts for us ; but one of these great human crea 
 tures will carry off and gormandize upon what would keep 
 a hundred poor families of squirrels in comfort." Old 
 Ground-mole said it did not require very sharp eyes to see 
 into the future, and it would just end in bringing down the 
 price of real estate in the whole vicinity, so that every 
 decent-minded and respectable quadruped would be obliged 
 to move away ; for his part, he was ready to sell out for 
 anything he could get. The bluebirds and bobolinks, it is 
 true, took more cheerful views of matters ; but then, as old 
 Mrs. Ground-mole observed, they were a flighty set, half 
 their time careering and dissipating in the Southern States, 
 and could not be expected to have that patriotic attach 
 ment to their native soil that those had who had grubbed 
 in it from their earliest days. 
 
 " This race of man," said the old chestnut- tree, " is 
 never ceasing in its restless warfare on Nature. In our 
 forest solitudes, hitherto, how peacefully, how quietly, how 
 regularly has everything gone on ! Not a flower has missed 
 its appointed time of blossoming, or failed to perfect its 
 
44 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 fruit. No matter how hard has been the winter, how loud 
 the winds have roared, and how high the snow-banks have 
 been piled, all has come right again in spring. Not the 
 least root has lost itself under the snows, so as not to be 
 ready with its fresh leaves and blossoms when the sun re 
 turns to melt the frosty chains of winter. We have storms 
 sometimes that threaten to shake everything to pieces, 
 the thunder roars, the lightning flashes, and the winds 
 howl and beat ; but, when all is past, everything comes out 
 better and brighter than before, not a bird is killed, not 
 the frailest flower destroyed. But man comes, and in one 
 day he will make a desolation that centuries cannot repair. 
 Ignorant boor that he is, and all incapable of appreciating 
 the glorious works of Nature, it seems to be his glory to 
 be able to destroy in a few hours what it was the work of 
 ages to produce. The noble oak, that has been cut away 
 to build this contemptible human dwelling, had a life older 
 and wiser than that of any man in this country. That tree 
 has seen generations of men come and go. It was a fresh 
 young tree when Shakespeare was born ; it was hardly a 
 middle-aged tree when he died ; it was growing here when 
 the first ship brought the white men to our shores ; and 
 hundreds and hundreds of those whom they call bravest, 
 wisest, strongest, warriors, statesmen, orators, and poets, 
 have been born, have grown up, lived, and died, while 
 yet it has outlived them all. It has seen more wisdom 
 than the best of them ; but two or three hours of brutal 
 strength sufficed to lay it low. Which of these dolts could 
 make a tree ? 1 7 d like to see them do anything like it. 
 How noisy and clumsy are all their movements, chop 
 ping, pounding, rasping, hammering ! And, after all, what 
 do they build ? In the forest we do everything so quietly. 
 A tree would be ashamed of itself that could not get its 
 growth without making such a noise and dust and fuss. 
 Our life is the perfection of good manners. For my part, 
 
THE SQUIRRELS THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE 45 
 
 I feel degraded at the mere presence of these human beings ; 
 but, alas ! I am old ; a hollow place at my heart warns 
 me of the progress of decay, and probably it will be seized 
 upon by these rapacious creatures as an excuse for laying 
 me as low as my noble green brother. 7 
 
 In spite of all this disquiet about it, the little cottage 
 grew and was finished. The walls were covered with pretty 
 paper, the floors carpeted with pretty carpets ; and, in fact, 
 when it was all arranged, and the garden walks laid out, 
 and beds of flowers planted around, it began to be confessed, 
 even among the most critical, that it was not after all so 
 bad a thing as was to have been feared. 
 
 A black ant went in one day and made a tour of explo 
 ration up and down, over chairs and tables, up the ceilings 
 and down again, and, coming out, wrote an article for the 
 " Crickets Gazette," in which he described the new abode 
 as a veritable palace. Several butterflies fluttered in and 
 sailed about and were wonderfully delighted, and then a 
 bumble-bee and two or three honey-bees, who expressed 
 themselves well pleased with the house, but more especially 
 enchanted with the garden. In fact, when it was found 
 that the proprietors were very fond of the rural solitudes 
 of Nature, and had come out there for the purpose of en 
 joying them undisturbed, that they watched and spared 
 the anemones, and the violets, and bloodroots, and dog s- 
 tooth violets, and little woolly rolls of fern that began to 
 grow up under the trees in spring, that they never allowed 
 a gun to be fired to scare the birds, and watched the build 
 ing of their nests with the greatest interest, then an 
 opinion in favor of human beings began to gain ground, 
 and every cricket and bird and beast was loud in their 
 praise. 
 
 " Mamma," said young Tit-bit, a frisky young squirrel, 
 to his mother one day, " why won t you let Frisky and me 
 go into that pretty new cottage to play ? " 
 
46 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, who was a very wary and 
 careful old squirrel, " how can you think of it ? The race 
 of man are full of devices for traps and pitfalls, and who 
 could say what might happen if you put yourself in their 
 power ? If you had wings like the butterflies and bees, 
 you might fly in and out again, and so gratify your curi 
 osity ; but, as matters stand, it 7 s best for you to keep well 
 out of their way. 77 
 
 " But, mother, there is such a nice, good lady lives there ! 
 I believe she is a good fairy, and she seems to love us all 
 so ; she sits in the bow-window and watches us for hours, 
 and she scatters corn all round at the roots of the tree for 
 us to eat. 77 
 
 " She is nice enough, 77 said the old mother-squirrel, " if 
 you keep far enough off ; but I tell you, you can 7 t be too 
 careful. 77 
 
 Now this good fairy that the squirrels discoursed about 
 was a nice little old lady that the children used to call 
 Aunt Esther, and she was a dear lover of birds and squir 
 rels, and all sorts of animals, and had studied their little 
 ways till she knew just what would please them ; and so 
 she would every day throw out crumbs for the sparrows, 
 and little bits of bread and wool and cotton to help the 
 birds that were building their nests, and would scatter corn 
 and nuts for the squirrels ; and while she sat at her work 
 in the* bow- window she would smile to see the birds flying 
 away with the wool, and the squirrels nibbling their nuts. 
 After a while the birds grew so tame that they would hop 
 into the bow-window, and eat their crumbs off the carpet. 
 
 " There, mamma, 77 said Tit-bit and Frisky, " only see ! 
 Jenny Wren and Cock Eobin have been in at the bow-win 
 dow, and it did n t hurt them, and why can t we go ? 77 
 
 " Well, my dears, 77 said old Mother Squirrel, " you must 
 do it very carefully : never forget that you have n 7 t wings 
 like Jenny Wren and Cock Eobin. 77 
 
THE SQUIREELS THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE 47 
 
 So the next day Aunt Esther laid a train of com from 
 the roots of the trees to the bow-window, and then from the 
 bow-window to her work-basket, which stood on the floor 
 beside her ; and then she put quite a handful of corn in 
 the work-basket, and sat down by it, and seemed intent on 
 her sewing. Very soon, creep, creep, creep, came Tit-bit 
 and Frisky to the window, and then into the room, just as 
 sly and as still as could be, and Aunt Esther sat just like a 
 statue for fear of disturbing them. They looked all around 
 in high glee, and when they came to the basket it seemed to 
 them a wonderful little summer-house, made on purpose for 
 them to play in. They nosed about in it, and turned over 
 the scissors and the needle-book, and took a nibble at her 
 white wax, and jostled the spools, meanwhile stowing away 
 the corn in each side of their little chops, till they both of 
 them looked as if they had the mumps. 
 
 At last Aunt Esther put out her hand to touch them, 
 when, whisk-frisk, out they went, and up the trees, chat 
 tering and laughing before she had time even to wink. 
 
 But after this they used to come in every day, and when 
 she put corn in her hand and held it very still they would 
 eat out of it ; and, finally, they would get into her hand, 
 until one day she gently closed it over them, and Frisky and 
 Tit-bit were fairly caught. 
 
 Oh, how their hearts beat ! but the good fairy only spoke 
 gently to them, and soon unclosed her hand and let them go 
 again. So, day after day, they grew to have more and more 
 faith in her, till they would climb into her work-basket, sit 
 on her shoulder, or nestle away in her lap as she sat sewing. 
 They made also long exploring voyages all over the house, 
 up and through all the chambers, till finally, I grieve to say, 
 poor Frisky came to an untimely end by being drowned in 
 the water-tank at the top of the house. 
 
 The dear good fairy passed away from the house in time, 
 and went to a land where the flowers never fade, and the 
 
48 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 birds never die ; but the squirrels still continue to make the 
 place a favorite resort. 
 
 " In fact, my dear/ 7 said old Mother Red one winter to 
 her mate, " what is the use of one s living in this cold hol 
 low tree, when these amiable people have erected this pretty 
 cottage where there is plenty of room for us and them too ? 
 Now I have examined between the eaves, and there is a 
 charming place where we can store our nuts, and where we 
 can whip in and out of the garret, and have the free range 
 of the house ; and, say what you will, these humans have 
 delightful ways of being warm and comfortable in winter." 
 
 So Mr. and Mrs. Red set up housekeeping in the cottage, 
 and had no end of nuts and other good things stored up 
 there. The trouble of all this was that, as Mrs. Red was 
 a notable body, and got up to begin her housekeeping oper 
 ations, and woke up all her children, at four o clock in the 
 morning, the good people often were disturbed by a great 
 rattling and fuss in the walls, while yet it seemed dark 
 night. Then sometimes, too, I grieve to say, Mrs. Squirrel 
 would give her husband vigorous curtain lectures in the night, 
 which made him so indignant that he would rattle off to an 
 other quarter of the garret to sleep by himself ; and all this 
 broke the rest of the worthy people who built the house. 
 
 What is to be done about this we don t know. What 
 would you do about it ? Would you let the squirrels live 
 in your house, or not ? When our good people come down 
 of a cold winter morning, and see the squirrels dancing and 
 frisking down the trees, and chasing each other so merrily 
 over the garden-chair between them, or sitting with their 
 tails saucily over their backs, they look so jolly and jaunty 
 and pretty that they almost forgive them for disturbing 
 their night s rest, and think that they will not do anything 
 to drive them out of the garret to-day. And so it goes on ; 
 but how long the squirrels will rent the cottage in this fash 
 ion, I m sure I dare not undertake to say. 
 
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 
 
 AT Rye Beach, during our summer s vacation, there 
 came, as there always will to seaside visitors, two or three 
 cold, chilly, rainy days, days when the skies that long 
 had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to bethink them 
 selves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not 
 by drops, but by pailfuls. The chilly wind blew and 
 whistled, the water dashed along the ground, and careered 
 in foamy rills along the roadside, and the bushes bent 
 beneath the constant flood. It was plain that there was 
 to be no sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides ; 
 and so, shivering and drawing our blanket-shawls close 
 about us, we sat down to the window to watch the storm 
 outside. The rose-bushes under the window hung dripping 
 under their load of moisture, each spray shedding a con 
 stant shower on the spray below it. On one of these 
 lower sprays, under the perpetual drip, what should we see 
 but a poor little humming-bird, drawn up into the tiniest 
 shivering ball, and clinging with a desperate grasp to his 
 uncomfortable perch. A humming-bird we knew him to 
 be at once, though his feathers were so matted and glued 
 down by the rain that he looked not much bigger than a 
 honey-bee, and as different as possible from the smart, pert, 
 airy little character that we had so often seen flirting with 
 the flowers. He was evidently a humming-bird in adver 
 sity, and whether he ever would hum again looked to us 
 exceedingly doubtful. Immediately, however, we sent out 
 to have him taken in. When the friendly hand seized 
 him, he gave a little faint, watery squeak, evidently think- 
 
50 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 ing that his last hour was come, and that grim Death was 
 about to carry him off to the land of dead birds. What a 
 time we had reviving him, holding the little wet thing 
 in the warm hollow of our hands, and feeling him shiver 
 and palpitate ! His eyes were fast closed ; his tiny claws, 
 which looked slender as cobwebs, were knotted close to his 
 body, and it was long before one could feel the least motion 
 in them. Finally, to our great joy, we felt a brisk little 
 kick, and then a flutter of wings, and then a determined 
 peck of the beak, which showed that there was some bird 
 left in him yet, and that he meant at any rate to find out 
 where he was. 
 
 Unclosing our hands a small space, out popped the little 
 head with a pair of round brilliant eyes. Then we be 
 thought ourselves of feeding him, and forthwith prepared 
 him a stiff glass of sugar and water, a drop of which we 
 held to his bill. After turning his head attentively, like a 
 bird who knew what he was about and did n t mean to be 
 chaffed, he briskly put out a long, flexible tongue slightly 
 forked at the end, and licked off the comfortable beverage 
 with great relish. Immediately he was pronounced out of 
 danger by the small humane society which had undertaken 
 the charge of his restoration, and we began to cast about for 
 getting him a settled establishment in our apartment. I 
 gave up my work-box to him for a sleeping-room, and it 
 was medically ordered that he should take a nap. So we 
 filled the box with cotton, and he was formally put to bed 
 with a folded cambric handkerchief round his neck, to 
 keep him from beating his wings. Out of his white wrap 
 pings he looked forth green and grave as any judge with 
 his bright round eyes. Like a bird of discretion, he 
 seemed to understand what was being done to him, and 
 resigned himself sensibly to go to sleep. 
 
 The box was covered with a sheet of paper perforated 
 with holes for purposes of ventilation ; for even humming- 
 
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 51 
 
 birds have a little pair of lungs, and need their own little 
 portion of air to fill them, so that they may make bright, 
 scarlet, little drops of blood to keep life s fire burning in 
 their tiny bodies. Our bird s lungs manufactured brilliant 
 blood, as we found out by experience ; for in his first nap 
 he contrived to nestle himself into the cotton of which his 
 bed was made, and to get more of it than he needed into 
 his long bill. We pulled it out as carefully as we could, but 
 there came out of his bill two round, bright, scarlet, little 
 drops of blood. Our chief medical authority looked grave, 
 pronounced a probable hemorrhage from the lungs, and gave 
 him over at once. We, less scientific, declared that we 
 had only cut his little tongue by drawing out the filaments of 
 cotton, and that he would do well enough in time, as it 
 afterward appeared he did, for from that day there was 
 no more bleeding. In the course of the second day he 
 began to take short flights about the room, though he seemed 
 to prefer to return to us, perching on our fingers or heads 
 or shoulders, and sometimes choosing to sit in this way for 
 half an hour at a time. " These great giants," he seemed 
 to say to himself, " are not bad people after all ; they have 
 a comfortable way with them ; how nicely they dried and 
 warmed me ! Truly a bird might do worse than to live 
 with them." 
 
 So he made up his mind to form a fourth in the little 
 company of three that usually sat and read, worked, and 
 sketched in that apartment, and we christened him " Hum, 
 the son of Buz." He became an individuality, a character, 
 whose little doings formed a part of every letter, and some 
 extracts from these will show what some of his little ways 
 were. 
 
 " Hum has learned to sit upon my finger, and eat his 
 sugar and water out of a teaspoon with most Christian-like 
 decorum. He has but one weakness, he will occasionally 
 jump into the spoon and sit in his sugar and water, and 
 
52 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 then appear to wonder where it goes to. His plumage is 
 in rather a drabbled state, owing to these performances. I 
 have sketched him as he sat to-day on a bit of Spiraea 
 which I brought in for him. When absorbed in reflection, 
 he sits with his bill straight up in the air, as I have drawn 
 
 him. Mr. A reads Macaulay to us, and you should 
 
 see the wise air with which, perched on Jenny s thumb, he 
 cocked his head now one side and then the other, apparently 
 listening with most critical attention. His confidence in 
 us seems unbounded ; he lets us stroke his head, smooth his 
 feathers, without a flutter ; and is never better pleased than 
 sitting, as he has been doing all this while, on my hand, 
 turning up his bill, and watching my face with great edifi 
 cation. 
 
 " I have just been having a sort of maternal struggle to 
 make him go to bed in his box ; but he evidently considers 
 himself sufficiently convalescent to make a stand for his 
 rights as a bird, and so scratched indignantly out of his 
 wrappings, and set himself up to roost on the edge of the 
 box, with an air worthy of a turkey, at the very least. 
 Having brought in a lamp, he has opened his eyes round 
 and wide, and sits cocking his little head at me reflect 
 ively." 
 
 When the weather cleared away, and the sun came out 
 bright, Hum became entirely well, and seemed resolved to 
 take the measure of his new life with us. Our windows 
 were closed in the lower part of the sash by frames with 
 mosquito gauze, so that the sun and air found free admis 
 sion, and yet our little rover could not pass out. On the 
 first sunny day he took an exact survey of our apartment 
 from ceiling to floor, humming about, examining every 
 point with his bill, all the crevices, mouldings, each little 
 indentation in the bed-post, each window-pane, each chair 
 and stand ; and, as it is a very simply furnished seaside 
 apartment, his scrutiny was soon finished. We wondered, 
 
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 53 
 
 at first, what this was all about; but, on watching him 
 more closely, we found that he was actively engaged in 
 getting his living, by darting out his long tongue hither 
 and thither, and drawing in all the tiny flies and insects 
 which in summer-time are to be found in an apartment. 
 In short, we found that, though the nectar of flowers was 
 his dessert, yet he had his roast beef and mutton-chop to 
 look after, and that his bright, brilliant blood was not made 
 out of a simple vegetarian diet. Very shrewd and keen he 
 was, too, in measuring the size of insects before he attempted 
 to swallow them. The smallest class were whisked off with 
 lightning speed ; but about larger ones he would sometimes 
 wheel and hum for some minutes, darting hither and thither, 
 and surveying them warily ; and if satisfied that they could 
 be carried, he would come down with a quick, central dart 
 which would finish the unfortunate at a snap. The larger 
 flies seemed to irritate him, especially when they inti 
 mated to him that his plumage was sugary, by settling on 
 his wings and tail ; when he would lay about him spitefully, 
 wielding his bill like a sword. A grasshopper that strayed 
 in, and was sunning himself on the window-seat, gave him 
 great discomposure. Hum evidently considered him an in 
 truder, and seemed to long to make a dive at him ; but, 
 with characteristic prudence, confined himself to threatening 
 movements, which did not exactly hit. He saw evidently 
 that he could not swallow him whole, and what might 
 ensue from trying him piecemeal he wisely forbore to essay. 
 Hum had his own favorite places and perches. From 
 the first day he chose for his nightly roost a towel-line 
 which had been drawn across the corner over the wash- 
 stand, where he every night established himself with one 
 claw in the edge of the towel and the other clasping the 
 line, and, ruffling up his feathers till he looked like a little 
 chestnut- burr, he would resign himself to the soundest sleep. 
 He did not tuck his head under his wing, but seemed to 
 
54 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 sink it down between his shoulders, with his bill almost 
 straight up in the air. One evening one of us, going to 
 use the towel, jarred the line, and soon after found that 
 Hum had been thrown from his perch, and was hanging 
 head downward, fast asleep, still clinging to the line. An 
 other evening, being discomposed by somebody coming to 
 the towel-line after he had settled himself, he fluttered off; 
 but so sleepy that he had not discretion to poise himself 
 again, and was found clinging, like a little bunch of green 
 floss silk, to the mosquito netting of the window. 
 
 A day after this we brought in a large green bough, and 
 put it up over the looking-glass. Hum noticed it before it 
 had been there five minutes, flew to it, and began a regu 
 lar survey, perching now here, now there, till he seemed to 
 find a twig that exactly suited him ; and after that he 
 roosted there every night. Who does not see in this 
 change all the signs of reflection and reason that are shown 
 by us in thinking over our circumstances, and trying to 
 better them ? It seemed to say in so many words : " That 
 towel-line is an unsafe place for a bird ; I get frightened, 
 and wake from bad dreams to find myself head downwards ; 
 so I will find a better roost on this twig. 7 
 
 When our little Jenny one day put on a clean white 
 muslin gown embellished with red sprigs, Hum flew towards 
 her, and with his bill made instant examination of these 
 new appearances ; and one day, being very affectionately 
 disposed, perched himself on her shoulder, and sat some 
 
 time. On another occasion, while Mr. A was reading, 
 
 Hum established himself on the top of his head just over 
 the middle of his forehead, in the precise place where our 
 young belles have lately worn stuffed humming-birds, mak 
 ing him look as if dressed out for a party. Hum s most 
 favorite perch was the back of the great rocking-chair, which, 
 being covered by a tidy, gave some hold into which he 
 could catch his little claws. There he would sit, balancing 
 
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 55 
 
 himself cleverly if its occupant chose to swing to and fro, 
 and seeming to be listening to the conversation or reading. 
 
 Hum had his different moods, like human beings. On 
 cold, cloudy, gray days he appeared to be somewhat de 
 pressed in spirits, hummed less about the room, and sat 
 humped up with his feathers ruined, looking as much like 
 a bird in a great-coat as possible. But on hot, sunny days 
 every feather sleeked itself down, and his little body looked 
 natty and trim, his head alert, his eyes bright, and it was 
 impossible to come near him, for his agility. Then let 
 mosquitoes and little flies look about them ! Hum snapped 
 them up without mercy, and seemed to be all over the 
 ceiling in a moment, and resisted all our efforts at any per 
 sonal familiarity with a saucy alacrity. 
 
 Hum had his established institutions in our room, the 
 chief of which was a tumbler with a little sugar and water 
 mixed in it, and a spoon laid across, out of which he helped 
 himself whenever he felt in the mood, sitting on the 
 edge of the tumbler, and dipping his long bill, and lapping 
 with his little forked tongue like a kitten. When he 
 found his spoon accidentally dry, he would stoop over ancl 
 dip his bill in the water in the tumbler, which caused 
 the prophecy on the part of some of his guardians, that he 
 would fall in some day and be drowned. For which rea 
 son it was agreed to keep only an inch in depth of the 
 fluid at the bottom of the tumbler. A wise precaution 
 this proved ; for the next morning I was awaked, not by 
 the usual hum over my head, but by a sharp little flutter, 
 and found Mr. Hum beating his wings in the tumbler 
 having actually tumbled in during his energetic efforts to 
 get his morning coffee before I was awake. 
 
 Hum seemed perfectly happy and satisfied in his quar 
 ters, but one day, when the door was left open, made a 
 dart out, and so into the open sunshine. Then, to be sure, 
 we thought we had lost him. We took the mosquito net- 
 
56 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 ting out of all the windows, and, setting his tumbler of sugar 
 and water in a conspicuous place, went about our usual 
 occupations. We saw him joyous and brisk among the 
 honeysuckles outside the window, and it was gravely pre 
 dicted that he would return no more. But at dinner-time 
 in came Hum, familiar as possible, and sat down to his 
 spoon as if nothing had happened ; instantly we closed our 
 windows and had him secure once more. 
 
 At another time I was going to ride to the Atlantic 
 House, about a mile from my boarding-place. I left all 
 secure, as I supposed, at home. While gathering moss on 
 the walls there, I was surprised by a little green humming 
 bird flying familiarly right towards my face, and humming 
 above my head. I called out, " Here is Hum s very bro 
 ther." But, on returning home, I saw that the door of the 
 room was open, and Hum was gone. Now certainly we 
 gave him up for lost. I sat down to painting, and in a few 
 minutes in flew Hum, and settled on the edge of my tum 
 bler in a social, confidential way, which seemed to say, " O, 
 you ve got back then." After taking his usual drink of 
 sugar and water, he began to fly about the ceiling as usual, 
 and we gladly shut him in. 
 
 When our five weeks at the seaside were up, and it was 
 time to go home, we had great questionings what was to be 
 done with Hum. To get him home with us was our desire, 
 but who ever heard of a humming-bird traveling by rail 
 road ? Great were the consultings ; a little basket of In 
 dian work was filled up with cambric handkerchiefs, and a 
 bottle of sugar and water provided, and we started with him 
 for a day s journey. When we arrived at night the first 
 care was to see what had become of Hum, who had not 
 been looked at since we fed him with sugar and water in 
 Boston. We found him alive and well, but so dead asleep 
 that we could not wake him to roost ; so we put him to 
 bed on a toilet cushion, and arranged his tumbler for morn- 
 
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 57 
 
 ing. The next day found him alive and humming, explor 
 ing the room and pictures, perching now here and now 
 there ; but, as the weather was chilly, he sat for the most 
 part of the time in a humped-up state on the tip of a pair 
 of stag s horns. We moved him to a more sunny apart 
 ment ; but, alas ! the equinoctial storm came on, and there 
 was no sun to be had for days. Hum was blue ; the pleas 
 ant seaside days were over ; his room was lonely, the pleas 
 ant three that had enlivened the apartment at Rye no longer 
 came in and out ; evidently he was lonesome, and gave way 
 to depression. One chilly morning he managed again to 
 fall into his tumbler, and wet himself through ; and not 
 withstanding warm bathings and tender nursings, the poor 
 little fellow seemed to get diphtheria, or something quite as 
 bad for humming-birds. 
 
 We carried him to a neighboring sunny parlor, where ivy 
 embowers all the walls, and the sun lies all day. There he 
 revived a little, danced up and down, perched on a green 
 spray that was wreathed across the breast of a Psyche, and 
 looked then like a little flitting soul returning to its rest. 
 Towards evening he drooped ; and, having been nursed and 
 warmed and cared for, he was put to sleep on a green twig 
 laid on the piano. In that sleep the little head drooped 
 nodded fell ; and little Hum went where other bright 
 dreams go, to the Land of the Hereafter. 
 
OUE COUNTEY NEIGHBORS 
 
 WE have just built our house in rather an out-of-the- 
 way place, on the bank of a river, and under the shade 
 of a patch of woods which is a veritable remain of quite an 
 ancient forest. The checkerberry and partridge-plum, with 
 their glossy green leaves and scarlet berries, still carpet the 
 ground under its deep shadows ; and prince s-pine and 
 other kindred evergreens declare its native wildness, for 
 these are children of the wild woods, that never come after 
 plough and harrow has once broken a soil. 
 
 When we tried to look out the spot for our house, we 
 had to get a surveyor to go before us and cut a path 
 through the dense underbrush that was laced together in a 
 general network of boughs and leaves, and grew so high as 
 to overtop our heads. Where the house stands, four or five 
 great old oaks and chestnuts had to be cut away to let it in ; 
 and now it stands on the bank of the river, the edges of 
 which are still overhung with old forest-trees, chestnuts and 
 oaks, which look at themselves in the glassy stream. 
 
 A little knoll near the house was chosen for a garden 
 spot ; a dense, dark mass of trees above, of bushes in mid 
 air, and of all sorts of ferns and wild-flowers and creeping 
 vines on the ground. All these had to be cleared out, and 
 a dozen great trees cut down and dragged off to a neighbor 
 ing saw-mill, there to be transformed into boards to finish 
 off our house. Then, fetching a great machine, such as 
 might be used to pull a giant s teeth, with ropes, pulleys, 
 oxen, and men, and might and main, we pulled out the 
 stumps, with their great prongs and their network of roots 
 
OUK COUNTRY NEIGHBOES 59 
 
 and fibres ; and then, alas ! we had to begin with all the 
 pretty, wild, lovely bushes, and the checkerberries and ferns 
 and wild blackberries and huckleberry-bushes, and dig them 
 up remorselessly, that we might plant our corn and squashes. 
 And so we got a house and a garden right out of the heart 
 of our piece of wild wood, about a mile from the city of 
 H . 
 
 Well, then, people said it was a lonely place, and far 
 from neighbors, by which they meant that it was a good 
 way for them to come to see us. But we soon found that 
 whoever goes into the woods to live finds neighbors of a 
 new kind, and some to whom it is rather hard to become 
 accustomed. 
 
 For instance, on a fine day early in April, as we were 
 crossing over to superintend the building of our house, we 
 were startled by a striped snake with his little bright eyes, 
 raising himself to look at us, and putting out his red forked 
 tongue. Now there is no more harm in these little garden- 
 snakes than there is in a robin or a squirrel ; they are poor 
 little, peaceable, timid creatures, which could not do any 
 harm if they would ; but the prejudices of society are so 
 strong against them, that one does not like to cultivate too 
 much intimacy with them. So we tried to turn out of our 
 path into a tangle of bushes ; and there, instead of one, we 
 found four snakes. We turned on the other side, and there 
 were two more. In short, everywhere we looked, the dry 
 leaves were rustling and coiling with them ; and we were 
 in despair. In vain we said that they were harmless as 
 kittens, and tried to persuade ourselves that their little 
 bright eyes were pretty, and that their serpentine move 
 ments were in the exact line of beauty ; for the life of us, 
 we could not help remembering their family name and con 
 nections ; we thought of those disagreeable gentlemen, the 
 anacondas, the rattlesnakes, and the copperheads, and all of 
 that bad line, immediate family friends of the old serpent 
 
60 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 to whom we are indebted for all the mischief that is done 
 in this world. So we were quite apprehensive when we 
 saw how our new neighborhood was infested by them, until 
 a neighbor calmed our fears by telling us that snakes always 
 crawled out of their holes to sun themselves in the spring, 
 and that in a day or two they would all be gone. 
 
 So it proved. It was evident they were all out merely 
 to do their spring shopping, or something that serves with 
 them the same purpose that spring shopping does with us ; 
 and where they went afterwards we do not know. People 
 speak of snakes holes, and we have seen them disappearing 
 into such subterranean chambers ; but we never opened one 
 to see what sort of underground housekeeping went on 
 there. After the first few days of spring, a snake was a 
 rare visitor, though now and then one appeared. 
 
 One was discovered taking his noontide repast one day 
 in a manner which excited much prejudice. He was, in 
 fact, regaling himself by sucking down into his maw a small 
 frog, which he had begun to swallow at the toes, and had 
 drawn about half down. The frog, it must be confessed, 
 seemed to view this arrangement with great indifference, 
 making no struggle, and sitting solemnly, with his great 
 unwinking eyes, to be sucked in at the leisure of his cap 
 tor. There was immense sympathy, however, excited for 
 him in the family circle ; and it was voted that a snake 
 which indulged in such very disagreeable modes of eating his 
 dinner was not to be tolerated in our vicinity. So I have 
 reason to believe that that was his last meal. 
 
 Another of our wild woodland neighbors made us some 
 trouble. It was no other than a veritable woodchuck, 
 whose hole we had often wondered at when we were 
 scrambling through the underbrush after spring flowers. 
 The hole was about the size of a peck-measure, and had 
 two openings about six feet apart. The occupant was a 
 gentleman we never had had the pleasure of seeing ; but 
 
OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS 61 
 
 we soon learned his existence from his ravages in our 
 garden. He had a taste, it appears, for the very kind of 
 things we wanted to eat ourselves, and helped himself 
 without asking. We had a row of fine, crisp heads of 
 lettuce, which were the pride of our gardening, and out of 
 which he would from day to day select for his table just 
 the plants we had marked for ours. He also nibbled our 
 young beans ; and so at last we were reluctantly obliged 
 to let John Gardiner set a trap for him. Poor old 
 simple-minded hermit, he was too artless for this world ! 
 He was caught at the very first snap, and found dead in 
 the trap, the agitation and distress having broken his 
 poor woodland heart, and killed him. We were grieved to 
 the very soul when the poor, fat old fellow was dragged 
 out, with his useless paws standing up stiff and imploring. 
 As it was, he was given to Denis, our pig, which, without 
 a single scruple of delicacy, ate him up as thoroughly as he 
 ate up the lettuce. 
 
 This business of eating, it appears, must go on all through 
 creation. We eat ducks, turkeys, and chickens, though we 
 don t swallow them whole, feathers and all. Our four-footed 
 friends, less civilized, take things with more directness and 
 simplicity, and chew each other up without ceremony, or 
 swallow each other alive. Of these unceremonious habits 
 we had other instances. 
 
 Our house had a central court on the southern side, into 
 which looked the library, dining-room, and front hall, as 
 well as several of the upper chambers. It was designed to 
 be closed in with glass, to serve as a conservatory in win 
 ter ; and meanwhile we had filled it with splendid plumy 
 ferns, taken up out of the neighboring wood. In the centre 
 was a fountain surrounded by stones, shells, mosses, and 
 various water-plants. We had bought three little goldfish 
 to swim in our basin ; and the spray of it, as it rose in the 
 air and rippled back into the water, was the pleasantest 
 
62 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 possible sound of a hot day. We used to lie on the sofa 
 in the hall, and look into the court, and fancy we saw 
 some scene of fairy-land, and water-sprites coming up from 
 the fountain. Suddenly a new-comer presented himself, 
 no other than an immense bullfrog, that had hopped up 
 from the neighboring river, apparently with a view to 
 making a permanent settlement in and about our fountain. 
 He was to be seen, often for hours, sitting reflectively on 
 the edge of it, beneath the broad shadow of the calla-leaves. 
 When sometimes missed thence, he would be found under 
 the ample shield of a great bignonia, whose striped leaves 
 grew hard by. 
 
 The family were prejudiced against him. What did he 
 want there ? It was surely some sinister motive impelled 
 him. He was probably watching for an opportunity to 
 gobble up the goldfish. We took his part, however, and 
 strenuously defended his moral character, and patronized 
 him in all ways. We gave him the name of Unke, and 
 maintained that he was a well-conducted, philosophical old 
 water-sprite, who showed his good taste in wanting to take 
 up his abode in our conservatory. We even defended his 
 personal appearance, praised the invisible-green coat which 
 he wore on his back, and his gray vest, and solemn gold 
 spectacles ; and though he always felt remarkably slimy 
 when we touched him, yet, as he would sit still, and allow 
 us to stroke his head and pat his back, we concluded his 
 social feelings might be warm, notwithstanding a cold ex 
 terior. Who knew, after all, but he might be a beautiful 
 young prince, enchanted there till the princess should come 
 to drop the golden ball into the fountain, and so give him 
 a chance to marry her, and turn into a man again ? Such 
 things, we are credibly informed, are matters of frequent 
 occurrence in Germany. Why not here ? 
 
 By and by there came to our fountain another visitor, 
 a frisky, green young frog of the identical kind spoken of 
 by the poet : 
 
OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS 68 
 
 " There was a frog lived in a well, 
 Rig dum pull} r metakimo." 
 
 This thoughtless, dapper individual, with his bright green 
 coat, his faultless white vest, and sea-green tights, became 
 rather the popular favorite. He seemed just rakish and 
 gallant enough to fulfil the conditions of the song : 
 
 " The frog he would a courting ride, 
 With sword and pistol by his side." 
 
 This lively young fellow, whom we shall call Cri-Cri, like 
 other frisky and gay young people, carried the day quite over 
 the head of the solemn old philosopher under the calla- 
 leaves. At night, when all was still, he would trill a joyous 
 little note in his throat, while old Unke would answer only 
 with a cracked guttural more singular than agreeable ; and 
 to all outward appearance the two were as good friends as 
 their different natures would allow. 
 
 One day, however, the conservatory became a scene of a 
 tragedy of the deepest dye. We were summoned below by 
 shrieks and howls of horror. " Do pray come down and 
 see what this vile, nasty, horrid old frog has been doing ! " 
 Down we came ; and there sat our virtuous old philosopher, 
 with his poor little brother s hind legs still sticking out of 
 the corner of his mouth, as if he were smoking them for 
 a cigar, all helplessly palpitating as they were. In fact, our 
 solemn old friend had done what many a solemn hypocrite 
 before has done, swallowed his poor brother, neck and 
 crop, and sat there with the most brazen indifference, 
 looking as if he had done the most proper and virtuous 
 thing in the world. 
 
 Immediately he was marched out of the conservatory at 
 the point of the walking-stick, and made to hop down into 
 the river, into whose waters he splashed ; and we saw him 
 no more. We regret to say that the popular indignation 
 was so precipitate in its results ; otherwise the special artist 
 who sketched Hum, the son of Buz, would have made a 
 
64 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 sketch of the old villain, as he sat with his luckless vic 
 tim s hind legs projecting from his solemn mouth. With 
 all his moral faults, he was a good sitter, and would prob 
 ably have sat immovable any length of time that could be 
 desired. 
 
 Of other woodland neighbors there were some which we 
 saw occasionally. The shores of the river were lined here 
 and there with the holes of the muskrats ; and, in rowing 
 by their settlements, we were sometimes strongly reminded 
 of them by the overpowering odor of the perfume from 
 which they get their name. There were also owls, whose 
 nests were high up in some of the old chestnut-trees. Often 
 in the lonely hours of the night we could hear them gib 
 bering with a sort of wild, hollow laugh among the distant 
 trees. But one tenant of the woods made us some trouble 
 in the autumn. It was a little flying-squirrel, who took to 
 making excursions into our house in the night season, com 
 ing down chimney into the chambers, rustling about among 
 the clothes, cracking nuts or nibbling at any morsels of 
 anything that suited his fancy. For a long time the in 
 mates of the rooms were awakened in the night by myste 
 rious noises, thumps, and rappings, and so lighted candles, 
 and searched in vain to find whence they came ; for the 
 moment any movement was made, the rogue whipped up 
 chimney, and left us a prey to the most mysterious alarms. 
 What could it be ? 
 
 But one night our fine gentleman bounced in at the 
 window of another room, which had no fireplace ; and the 
 fair occupant, rising in the night, shut the window, with 
 out suspecting that she had cut off the retreat of any of 
 her woodland neighbors. The next morning she was star 
 tled by what she thought a gray rat running past her bed. 
 She rose to pursue him, when he ran up the wall, and 
 clung against the plastering, showing himself very plainly 
 a gray flying-squirrel, with large, soft eyes, and wings which 
 
OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS 65 
 
 consisted of a membrane uniting the fore paws to the hind 
 ones, like those of a bat. He was chased into the conser 
 vatory, and, a window being opened, out he flew upon the 
 ground, and made away for his native woods, and thus put 
 an end to many fears as to the nature of our nocturnal 
 rappings. 
 
 So you see how many neighbors we found by living in 
 the woods, and, after all, no worse ones than are found in 
 the great world. 
 
OUR DOGS 
 
 WE who live in Cunopolis are a dog-loving family. 
 We have a warm side towards everything that goes upon 
 four paws, and the consequence has been that, taking things 
 first and last, we have been always kept in confusion and 
 under the paw, so to speak, of some honest four-footed 
 tyrant, who would go beyond his privilege and overrun 
 the whole house. Years ago this begun, when our house 
 hold consisted of a papa, a mamma, and three or four noisy 
 boys and girls, and a kind Miss Anna who acted as a sec 
 ond mamma to the whole. There was also one more of our 
 number, the youngest, dear little bright-eyed Charley, who 
 was king over us all, and rode in a wicker wagon for a 
 chariot, and had a nice little nurse devoted to him ; and it 
 was through him that our first dog came. 
 
 One day Charley s nurse took him quite a way to a 
 neighbor s house to spend the afternoon ; and, he being 
 well amused, they stayed till after nightfall. The kind old 
 lady of the mansion was concerned that the little prince in 
 his little coach, with his little maid, had to travel so far in 
 the twilight shadows, and so she called a big dog named 
 Carlo, and gave the establishment into his charge. 
 
 Carlo was a great, tawny-yellow mastiff", as big as a calf, 
 with great, clear, honest eyes, and stiff, wiry hair ; and the 
 good lady called him to the side of the little wagon, and 
 said, " Now, Carlo, you must take good care of Charley, 
 and you mustn t let anything hurt him." 
 
OUR DOGS 67 
 
 Carlo wagged his tail in promise of protection, and away 
 he trotted, home with the wicker wagon ; and when he 
 arrived, he was received with so much applause by four 
 little folks, who dearly loved the very sight of a dog, he 
 was so stroked and petted and caressed, that he concluded 
 that he liked the place better than the home he came from, 
 where were only very grave elderly people. He tarried 
 all night, and slept at the foot of the boys bed, who could 
 hardly go to sleep for the things they found to say to him, 
 and who were awake ever so early in the morning, stroking 
 his rough, tawny back, and hugging him. 
 
 At his own home Carlo had a kennel all to himself, 
 where he was expected to live quite alone, and do duty by 
 watching and guarding the place. Nobody petted him, or 
 stroked his rough hide, or said, " Poor dog ! " to him, and 
 so it appears he had a feeling that he was not appreciated, 
 and liked our warm-hearted little folks, who told him 
 stories, gave him half of their own supper, and took him to 
 bed with them sociably. Carlo was a dog that had a mind 
 of his own, though he could n t say much about it, and in 
 his dog fashion proclaimed his likes and dislikes quite as 
 strongly as if he could speak. When the time came for 
 taking him home, he growled and showed his teeth danger 
 ously at the man who was sent for him, and it was neces 
 sary to drag him back by force, and tie him into his ken 
 nel. However, he soon settled that matter by gnawing the 
 rope in two and padding down again and appearing among 
 his little friends, quite to their delight. Two or three 
 times was he taken back and tied or chained ; but he 
 howled so dismally, and snapped at people in such a mis 
 anthropic manner, that finally the kind old lady thought it 
 better to have no dog at all than a dog soured by blighted 
 affection. So she loosed his rope, and said, "There, 
 Carlo, go and stay where you like ; " and so Carlo came 
 to us, and a joy and delight was he to all in the house. 
 
68 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 He loved one and all ; but he declared himself as more 
 than all the slave and property of our Prince Charley. 
 He would lie on the floor as still as a door-mat, and let 
 him pull his hair, and roll over him, and examine his eyes 
 with his little fat fingers ; and Carlo submitted to all these 
 personal freedoms with as good an understanding as papa 
 himself. When Charley slept, Carlo stretched himself 
 along under the crib ; rising now and then, and standing 
 with his broad breast on a level with the slats of the crib, 
 he would look down upon him with an air of grave pro 
 tection. He also took a great fancy to papa, and would 
 sometimes pat with tiptoe care into his study, and sit 
 quietly down by him when he was busy over his Greek or 
 Latin books, waiting for a word or two of praise or encour 
 agement. If none came, he would lay his rough horny 
 paw on his knee, and look in his face with such an honest, 
 imploring expression, that the professor was forced to break 
 off to say, " Why, Carlo, you poor, good, honest fellow, 
 did he want to be talked to ? so he did. Well, he shall 
 be talked to ; he 7 s a nice, good dog ; " and during all 
 these praises Carlo s transports and the thumps of his rough 
 tail are not to be described. 
 
 He had great, honest, yellowish-brown eyes, not re 
 markable for their beauty, but which used to look as if he 
 longed to speak, and he seemed to have a yearning for 
 praise and love and caresses that even all our attentions 
 could scarcely satisfy. His master would say to him some 
 times, " Carlo, you poor, good, homely dog, how loving 
 you are ! " 
 
 Carlo was a full-blooded mastiff, and his beauty, if he 
 had any, consisted in his having all the good points of his 
 race. He was a dog of blood, come of real old mastiff 
 lineage ; his stiff, wiry hair, his big, rough paws, and great 
 brawny chest, were all made for strength rather than 
 beauty ; but for all that he was a dog of tender sentiments. 
 
OUR DOGS 69 
 
 Yet, if any one intruded on his rights and dignities, Carlo 
 showed that he had hot blood in him ; his lips would go 
 back, and show a glistening row of ivories that one would 
 not like to encounter, and if any trenched on his privileges, 
 he would give a deep warning growl, as much as to say, 
 " I am your slave for love, but you must treat me well, or 
 I shall be dangerous. 7 A blow he would not bear from 
 any one : the fire would flash from his great yellow eyes, 
 and he would snap like a rifle ; yet he would let his 
 own Prince Charley pound on his ribs with both baby fists, 
 and pull his tail till he yelped, without even a show of 
 resistance. 
 
 At last came a time when the merry voice of little Char 
 ley was heard no more, and his little feet no more pattered 
 through the halls ; he lay pale and silent in his little crib, 
 with his dear life ebbing away, and no one knew how to 
 stop its going. Poor old Carlo lay under the crib when 
 they would let him, sometimes rising up to look in with an 
 earnest, sorrowful face ; and sometimes he would stretch 
 himself out in the entry before the door of little Charley s 
 room, watching with his great open eyes lest the thief 
 should come in the night to steal away our treasure. 
 
 But one morning when the children woke, one little soul 
 had gone in the night, gone upward to the angels ; and 
 then the cold, pale little form that used to be the life of 
 the house was laid away tenderly in the yard of a neighbor 
 ing church. 
 
 Poor old Carlo would pit-pat silently about the house in 
 those days of grief, looking first into one face and then 
 another, but no one could tell him where his gay little 
 master had gone. The other children had hid the baby- 
 wagon away in the lumber-room lest their mamma should 
 see it ; and so passed a week or two, and Carlo saw no 
 trace of Charley about the house. But then a lady in the 
 
70 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 neighborhood, who had a sick baby, sent to borrow the 
 wicker wagon, and it was taken from its hiding-place to go 
 to her. Carlo came to the door just as it was being drawn 
 out of the gate into the street. Immediately he sprung, 
 cleared the fence with a great bound, and ran after it. He 
 overtook it, and poked his nose between the curtains, 
 there was no one there. Immediately he turned away, and 
 padded dejectedly home. What words could have spoken 
 plainer of love and memory than this one action ? 
 
 Carlo lived with us a year after this, when a time came 
 for the whole family hive to be taken up and moved away 
 from the flowery banks of the Ohio to the piny shores of 
 Maine. All our household goods were being uprooted, dis 
 ordered, packed, and sold; and the question daily arose, 
 " What shall we do with Carlo ? " There was hard begging 
 on the part of the boys that he might go with them, and 
 one even volunteered to travel all the way in baggage cars 
 to keep Carlo company. But papa said no, and so it was 
 decided to send Carlo up the river to the home of a very 
 genial lady who had visited in our family, and who appre 
 ciated his parts, and offered him a home in hers. 
 
 The matter was anxiously talked over one day in the 
 family circle while Carlo lay under the table, and it was 
 agreed that papa and Willie should take him to the steam 
 boat landing the next morning. But the next morning Mr. 
 Carlo was nowhere to be found. In vain was he called, 
 from garret to cellar ; nor was it till papa and Willie had 
 gone to the city that he came out of his hiding-place. For 
 two or three days it was impossible to catch him, but after 
 a while his suspicions were laid, and we learned not to speak 
 out our plans in his presence, and so the transfer at last was 
 prosperously effected. 
 
 We heard from him once in his new home, as being a 
 highly appreciated member of society, and adorning his new 
 
OUR DOGS 71 
 
 situation with all sorts of dog virtues, while we wended our 
 ways to the coast of Maine. But our hearts were sore for 
 want of him ; the family circle seemed incomplete, until a 
 new favorite appeared to take his place, of which I shall 
 tell you next month. 
 
 A neighbor, blessed with an extensive litter of Newfound 
 land pups, commenced one chapter in our family history by 
 giving us a puppy, brisk, funny, and lively enough, who 
 was received in our house with acclamations of joy, and 
 christened "Rover." An auspicious name we all thought, 
 for his four or five human playfellows were all rovers, 
 rovers in the woods, rovers by the banks of a neighboring 
 patch of water, where they dashed and splashed, made rafts, 
 inaugurated boats, and lived among the cat-tails and sweet 
 flags as familiarly as so many musk-rats. Rovers also they 
 were, every few days, down to the shores of the great sea, 
 where they caught fish, rowed boats, dug clams, both 
 girls and boys, and one sex quite as handily as the other. 
 Rover came into such a lively circle quite as one of them, 
 and from the very first seemed to regard himself as part and 
 parcel of all that was going on, in doors or out. But his 
 exuberant spirits at times brought him into sad scrapes. 
 His vivacity was such as to amount to decided insanity, 
 and mamma and Miss Anna and papa had many grave looks 
 over his capers. Once he actually tore off" the leg of a new 
 pair of trousers that Johnny had just donned, and came 
 racing home with it in his mouth, with its bare-legged little 
 owner behind, screaming threats and maledictions on the 
 robber. What a commotion ! The new trousers had just 
 been painfully finished, in those days when sewing was sew 
 ing and not a mere jig on a sewing-machine ; but Rover, so 
 far from being abashed or ashamed, displayed an impish 
 
72 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 glee in his performance, bounding and leaping hither and 
 thither with his trophy in his mouth, now growling and 
 mangling it, and shaking it at us in elfish triumph as we 
 chased him hither and thither, over the wood-pile, into 
 the woodhouse, through the barn, out of the stable door, 
 vowing all sorts of dreadful punishments when we caught 
 him. But we might well say that, for the little wretch 
 would never be caught ; after one of his tricks he always 
 managed to keep himself out of arm s length till the thing was 
 a little blown over, when in he would come, airy as ever, 
 and wagging his little pudgy puppy tail with an air of the 
 most perfect assurance in the world. 
 
 There is no saying what youthful errors were pardoned 
 to him. Once he ate a hole in the bed-quilt as his night s 
 employment, when one of the boys had surreptitiously got 
 him into bed with them ; he nibbled and variously mal 
 treated sundry sheets ; and once actually tore up and chewed 
 off a corner of the bedroom carpet, to stay his stomach dur 
 ing the night season. What he did it for, no mortal 
 knows ; certainly it could not be because he was hungry, 
 for there were five little pairs of hands incessantly feeding 
 him from morning till night. Beside which, he had a 
 boundless appetite for shoes, which he mumbled, and shook, 
 and tore, and ruined, greatly to the vexation of their right 
 ful owners, rushing in and carrying them from the bed 
 sides in the night-watches, racing off with them to any out- 
 of-the-way corner that hit his fancy, and leaving them when 
 he was tired of the fun. So there is no telling of the dis 
 grace into which he brought his little masters and mistresses, 
 and the tears and threats and scoldings which were all 
 wasted on him, as he would stand quite at his ease, lolling 
 out his red, saucy tongue, and never deigning to tell what 
 he had done with his spoils. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these sins, Rover grew up to dog- 
 hood, the pride and pet of the family, and in truth a 
 very handsome dog he was. 
 
OUR DOGS 73 
 
 It is quite evident from his looks that his Newfoundland 
 blood had been mingled with that of some other races ; for 
 he never attained the full size of that race, and his points 
 in some respects resembled those of a good setter. He was 
 grizzled black and white, and spotted on the sides in little 
 inky drops about the size of a three-cent piece ; his hair 
 was long and silky, his ears beautifully fringed, and his tail 
 long and feathery. His eyes were bright, soft, and full of 
 expression, and a jollier, livelier, more loving creature 
 never wore dog-skin. To be sure, his hunting blood some 
 times brought us and him into scrapes. A neighbor now 
 and then would call with a bill for ducks, chickens, or 
 young turkeys, which Rover had killed. The last time 
 this occurred it was decided that something must be done ; 
 so Hover was shut up a whole day in a cold lumber-room, 
 with the murdered duck tied round his neck. Poor fellow ! 
 how dejected and ashamed he looked, and how grateful he 
 was when his little friends would steal in to sit with him, 
 and " poor " him in his disgrace ! The punishment so 
 improved his principles that he let poultry alone from that 
 time, except now and then, when he would snap up a young 
 chick or turkey, in pure absence of mind, before he really 
 knew what he was about. We had great dread lest he 
 should take to killing sheep, of which there were many 
 flocks in the neighborhood. A dog which once kills sheep 
 is a doomed beast, as much as a man who has committed 
 murder ; and if our Kover, through the hunting blood that 
 was in him, should once mistake a sheep for a deer, and 
 kill him, we should be obliged to give him up to justice, 
 all his good looks and good qualities could not save him. 
 
 What anxieties his training under this head cost us ! 
 When we were driving out along the clean, sandy roads, 
 among the piny groves of Maine, it was half our enjoyment 
 to see E/over, with ears and tail wild and flying with ex 
 citement and enjoyment, bounding and barking, now on 
 
74 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 this side the carriage, now on that, now darting through 
 the woods straight as an arrow, in his leaps after birds or 
 squirrels, and anon returning to trot obediently by the car 
 riage, and, wagging his tail, to ask applause for his perform 
 ances. But anon a flock of sheep appeared in a distant 
 field, and away would go Rover in full bow-wow, plunging 
 in among them, scattering them hither and thither in dire 
 confusion. Then Johnny and Bill and all hands would 
 spring from the carriage in full chase of the rogue ; and all 
 of us shouted vainly in the rear ; and finally the rascal 
 would be dragged back, panting and crestfallen, to be ad 
 monished, scolded, and cuffed with salutary discipline, 
 heartily administered by his best friends for the sake of 
 saving his life. " Eover, you naughty dog ! Don t you 
 know you must n t chase the sheep ? You 11 be killed, 
 some of these days." Admonitions of this kind, well 
 shaken and thumped in, at last seemed to reform him 
 thoroughly. He grew so conscientious that, when a flock 
 of sheep appeared on the side of the road, he would imme 
 diately go to the other side of the carriage, and turn away 
 his head, rolling up his eyes meanwhile to us for praise at 
 his extraordinary good conduct. " Good dog, Rove ! nice 
 dog ! good fellow ! he does n t touch the sheep, no, he 
 does n t." Such were the rewards of virtue which sweet 
 ened his self-denial ; hearing which, he would plume up 
 his feathery tail, and loll out his tongue, with an air of 
 virtuous assurance quite edifying to behold. 
 
 Another of Rover s dangers was a habit he had of run 
 ning races and cutting capers with the railroad engines as 
 they passed near our dwelling. 
 
 We lived in plain sight of the track, and three or four 
 times a day the old, puffing, smoking iron horse thundered 
 by, dragging his trains of cars, and making the very ground 
 shake under him. Rover never could resist the temptation 
 to run and bark, and race with so lively an antagonist; 
 
OUR DOGS 75 
 
 and, to say the truth, John and Willy were somewhat of 
 his mind, so that, though they were directed to catch 
 and hinder him, they entered so warmly into his own feel 
 ings that they never succeeded in breaking up the habit. 
 Every day when the distant whistle was heard, away would 
 go Eover, out of the door or through the window no 
 matter which, race down to meet the cars, couch down 
 on the track in front of them, barking with all his might, 
 as if it were only a fellow-dog, and when they came so 
 near that escape seemed utterly impossible, he would lie 
 flat down between the rails and suffer the whole train to 
 pass over him, and then jump up and bark, full of glee, in 
 the rear. Sometimes he varied this performance more dan 
 gerously by jumping out full tilt between two middle cars 
 when the train had passed half-way over him. Everybody 
 predicted, of course, that he would be killed or maimed, 
 and the loss of a paw, or of his fine, saucy tail, was the 
 least of the dreadful things which were prophesied about 
 him. But Eover lived and throve in his imprudent 
 courses notwithstanding. 
 
 The engineers and firemen, who began by throwing 
 sticks of wood and bits of coal at him,- at last were quite 
 subdued by his successful impudence, and came to consider 
 him as a regular institution of the railroad, and, if any 
 family excursion took him off for a day, they would in 
 quire with interest, " Where ? s our dog ? what ? s become 
 of Rover ? " As to the female part of our family, we had 
 so often anticipated piteous scenes when poor Eover would 
 be brought home with broken paws or without his pretty 
 tail, that we quite used up our sensibilities, and concluded 
 that some kind angel, such as is appointed to watch over 
 little children s pets, must take special care of our Eover. 
 
 Eover had very tender domestic affections. His attach 
 ment to his little playfellows was most intense ; and one 
 time, when all of them were taken off together on a week s 
 
76 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 excursion, and Rover left alone at home, his low spirits 
 were really pitiful. He refused entirely to eat for the 
 first day, and finally could only be coaxed to take nour 
 ishment, with many strokings and caresses, by being fed 
 out of Miss Anna s own hand. What perfectly boisterous 
 joy he showed when the children came back ! careering 
 round and round, picking up chips and bits of sticks, and 
 coming and offering them to one and another, in the ful 
 ness of his doggish heart, to show how much he wanted to 
 give them something. 
 
 This mode of signifying his love by bringing something 
 in his mouth was one of his most characteristic tricks. 
 At one time he followed the carriage from Brunswick to 
 Bath, and in the streets of the city somehow lost his way, 
 so that he was gone all night. Many a little heart went 
 to bed anxious and sorrowful for the loss of its shaggy 
 playfellow that night, and Rover doubtless was remembered 
 in many little prayers ; what, therefore, was the joy of 
 being awakened by a joyful barking under the window the 
 next morning, when his little friends rushed in their night 
 gowns to behold Rover back again, fresh and frisky, bear 
 ing in his mouth a branch of a tree about six feet long, as 
 his offering of joy. 
 
 When the family removed to Zion Hill, Rover went 
 with them, the trusty and established family friend. Age 
 had somewhat matured his early friskiness. Perhaps the 
 grave neighborhood of a theological seminary and the re 
 sponsibility of being a professor s dog might have some 
 thing to do with it, but Rover gained an established char 
 acter as a dog of respectable habits, and used to march to 
 the post-office at the heels of his master twice a day as 
 regularly as any theological student. 
 
 Little Charley the second the youngest of the brood, 
 who took the place of our lost little Prince Charley was 
 yet padding about in short robes, and seemed to regard 
 
OUR DOGS 77 
 
 Rover in the light of a discreet older brother, and Rover s 
 manners to him were of most protecting gentleness. Char 
 ley seemed to consider Rover in all things as such a model, 
 that he overlooked the difference between a dog and a boy, 
 and wearied himself with fruitless attempts to scratch his 
 ear with his foot as Rover did, and one day was brought 
 in dripping from a neighboring swamp, where he had been 
 lying down in the water, because Rover did. 
 
 Once in a while a wild oat or two from Rover s old sack 
 would seem to entangle him. Sometimes, when we were 
 driving out, he would, in his races after the carriage, make 
 a flying leap into a farmer s yard, and, if he lighted in a 
 flock of chickens or turkeys, gobble one off-hand, and be 
 off again and a mile ahead before the mother hen had re 
 covered from her astonishment. Sometimes, too, he would 
 have a race with the steam-engine just for old acquaintance 
 sake. But these were comparatively transient follies ; in 
 general, no members of the grave institutions around him 
 behaved with more dignity and decorum than Rover. He 
 tried to listen to his master s theological lectures, and to 
 attend chapel on Sundays ; but the prejudices of society 
 were against him, and so he meekly submitted to be shut 
 out, and waited outside the door on these occasions. 
 
 He formed a part of every domestic scene. At family 
 prayers, stretched out beside his master, he looked up re 
 flectively with his great soft eyes, and seemed to join in 
 the serious feeling of the hour. When all were gay, when 
 singing, or frolicking, or games were going on, Rover barked 
 and frisked in higher glee than any. At night it was his 
 joy to stretch his furry length by our bedside, where he 
 slept with one ear on cock for any noise which it might 
 be his business to watch and attend to. It was a comfort 
 to hear the tinkle of his collar when he moved in the 
 night, or to be wakened by his cold nose pushed against 
 one s hand if one slept late in the morning. And then he 
 
78 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 was always so glad when we woke ; and when any member 
 of the family circle was gone for a few days, Rover s warm 
 delight and welcome were not the least of the pleasures of 
 return. 
 
 And what became of him ? Alas ! the fashion came up 
 of poisoning dogs, and this poor, good, fond, faithful crea 
 ture was enticed into swallowing poisoned meat. One day 
 he came in suddenly, ill and frightened, and ran to the 
 friends who always had protected him, but in vain. In 
 a few moments he was in convulsions, and all the tears and 
 sobs of his playfellows could not help him ; he closed his 
 bright, loving eyes, and died in their arms. 
 
 If those who throw poison to dogs could only see the 
 real grief it brings into a family to lose the friend and play 
 fellow who has grown up with the children, and shared 
 their plays, and been for years in every family scene, if 
 they could know how sorrowful it is to see the poor dumb 
 friend suffer agonies which they cannot relieve, if they 
 could see all this, we have faith to believe they never would 
 do so more. 
 
 Our poor Rover was buried with decent care near the 
 house, and a mound of petunias over him kept his memory 
 ever bright ; but it will be long before his friends will get 
 another as true. 
 
 Ill 
 
 After the sad fate of Rover, there came a long interval 
 in which we had no dog. Our hearts were too sore to 
 want another. His collar, tied with black crape, hung 
 under a pretty engraving of Landseer s, called " My Dog," 
 which we used to fancy to be an exact resemblance of our 
 pet. 
 
 The children were some of them grown up and gone to 
 school, or scattered about the world. If ever the question 
 
OUR DOGS 79 
 
 of another dog was agitated, papa cut it short with, " I 
 won t have another ; I won t be made to feel again as I 
 did about Bover." But somehow Mr. Charley the younger 
 got his eye on a promising litter of puppies, and at last he 
 begged papa into consenting that he might have one of 
 them. 
 
 It was a little black mongrel, of no particular race or 
 breed, a mere common cur, without any pretensions to 
 family, but the best-natured, j oiliest little low-bred pup 
 that ever boy had for a playmate. To be sure, he had the 
 usual puppy sins ; he would run away with papa s slippers 
 and boots and stockings ; he would be under everybody s 
 feet, at the most inconvenient moment ; he chewed up a 
 hearth-broom or two, and pulled one of Charley s caps to 
 pieces in the night, with an industry worthy of a better 
 cause ; still, because he was dear to Charley, papa and 
 mamma winked very hard at his transgressions. 
 
 The name of this little black individual was Stromion, 
 a name taken from a German fairy tale, which the Pro 
 fessor was very fond of reading in the domestic circle ; and 
 Stromion, by dint of much patience, much feeding, and very 
 indulgent treatment, grew up into a very fat, common-look 
 ing, black cur dog, not very prepossessing in appearance 
 and manners, but possessed of the very best heart in the 
 world, and most inconceivably affectionate and good-natured. 
 Sometimes some of the older members of the family would 
 trouble Charley s enjoyment in his playfellow by suggesting 
 that he was no blood dog, and that he belonged to no par 
 ticular dog family that could be named. Papa comforted 
 him by the assurance that Stromion did belong to a very 
 old and respectable breed, that he was a mongrel ; and 
 Charley after that valued him excessively under this head ; 
 and if any one tauntingly remarked that Stromion was only 
 a cur, he would flame up in his defense, " He is n t a cur, 
 he s a mongrel," introducing him to strangers with the 
 
80 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 addition to all his other virtues, that he was a " pure mon 
 grel, papa says so." 
 
 The edict against dogs in the family having once heen 
 broken down, Master Will proceeded to gratify his own 
 impulses, and soon led home to the family circle an enor 
 mous old black Newfoundland, of pure breed, which had 
 been presented him by a man who was leaving the place. 
 Prince was in the decline of his days, but a fine, majestic 
 old fellow. He had a sagacity and capacity of personal 
 affection which were uncommon. Many dogs will change 
 from master to master without the least discomposure. A 
 good bone will compensate for any loss of the heart, and 
 make a new friend seem quite as good as an old one. But 
 Prince had his affections quite as distinctly as a human 
 being, and we learned this to our sorrow when he had to 
 be weaned from his old master under our roof. His howls 
 and lamentations were so dismal and protracted, that the 
 house could not contain him ; we were obliged to put him 
 into an outhouse to compose his mind, and we still have a 
 vivid image of him sitting, the picture of despair, over an 
 untasted mutton shank, with his nose in the air, and the 
 most dismal howls proceeding from his mouth. Time, the 
 comforter, however, assuaged his grief, and he came at last 
 to transfer all his stores of affection to Will, and to con 
 sider himself once more as a dog with a master. 
 
 Prince used to inhabit his young master s apartment, from 
 the window of which he would howl dismally when Will 
 left him to go to the academy near by, and yelp triumphant 
 welcomes when he saw him returning. He was really and 
 passionately fond of music, and, though strictly forbidden 
 the parlor, would push and elbow his way there with 
 dogged determination when there was playing or singing. 
 Any one who should have seen Prince s air when he had a 
 point to carry, would understand why quiet obstinacy is 
 called doggedness. 
 
OUR DOGS 81 
 
 The female members of the family, seeing that two dogs 
 had gained admission to the circle, had cast their eyes ad 
 miringly on a charming little Italian greyhound, that was 
 living in doleful captivity at a dog-fancier s in Boston, and 
 resolved to set him free and have him for their own. Ac 
 cordingly they returned one day in triumph, with him in 
 their arms, a fair, delicate creature, white as snow, except 
 one mouse-colored ear. He was received with enthusiasm, 
 and christened Giglio ; the honors of his first bath and 
 toilette were performed by Mesdemoiselles the young ladies 
 on their knees, as if he had been in reality young Prince 
 Giglio from fairyland. 
 
 Of all beautiful shapes in dog form, never was there one 
 more perfect than this. His hair shone like spun glass, 
 and his skin was as fine and pink as that of a baby ; his 
 paws and ears were translucent like fine china, and he had 
 great, soft, tremulous dark eyes ; his every movement seemed 
 more graceful than the last. Whether running or leaping, 
 or sitting in graceful attitudes on the parlor table among 
 the ladies embroidery-frames, with a great rose-colored bow 
 under his throat, he was alike a thing of beauty, and his 
 beauty alone won all hearts to him. 
 
 When the papa first learned that a third dog had been in 
 troduced into the household, his patience gave way. The 
 thing was getting desperate ; we were being overrun with 
 dogs ; our house was no more a house, but a kennel ; it 
 ought to be called Cunopolis, a city of dogs ; he could 
 not and would not have it so ; but papa, like most other 
 indulgent old gentlemen, was soon reconciled to the chil 
 dren s pets. In fact, Giglio was found cowering under the 
 bedclothes at the Professor s feet not two mornings after his 
 arrival, and the good gentleman descended with him in his 
 arms to breakfast, talking to him in the most devoted man 
 ner : " Poor little Giglio, was he cold last night ? and 
 did he want to get into papa s bed ? he should be brought 
 
82 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 down stairs, that he should ; " all which, addressed to a 
 young rascal whose sinews were all like steel, and who could 
 have jumped from the top stair to the hottom like a feather, 
 was sufficiently amusing. 
 
 Giglio s singular beauty and grace were his only merits ; he 
 had no love nor power of loving ; he liked to be petted and 
 kept warm, but it mattered nothing to him who did it. 
 He was as ready to turn off with a stranger as with his very 
 best friend, would follow any whistle or any caller, 
 was, in fact, such a gay rover, that we came very near 
 losing him many times ; and more than once he was brought 
 back from the Boston cars, on board which he had followed 
 a stranger. He also had, we grieve to say, very careless 
 habits ; and after being washed white as snow, and adorned 
 with choice rose-colored ribbons, would be brought back 
 soiled and ill-smelling from a neighbor s livery stable, where 
 he had been indulging in low society. For all that, he was 
 very lordly and aristocratic in his airs with poor Stromion, 
 who was a dog with a good, loving heart, if he was black 
 and homely. Stromion admired Giglio with the most evi 
 dent devotion ; he would always get up to give him the 
 warm corner, and would always sit humbly in the distance 
 and gaze on him with most longing admiration, for all of 
 which my fine gentleman rewarded him only with an occa 
 sional snarl or a nip, as he went by him. Sometimes Giglio 
 would condescend to have a romp with Stromion for the 
 sake of passing the time, and then Stromion would be per 
 fectly delighted, and frisk and roll his clumsy body over 
 the carpet with his graceful antagonist, all whose motions 
 were a study for an artist. When Giglio was tired of play, 
 he would give Stromion a nip that would send him yelping 
 from the field ; and then he would tick, tick gracefully away 
 to some embroidered ottoman forbidden to all but himself, 
 where he would sit graceful and classical as some Etruscan 
 vase, and look down superior on the humble companion 
 who looked up to him with respectful admiration. 
 
OUR DOGS 83 
 
 Giglio knew his own good points, and was possessed with 
 the very spirit of a coquette. He would sometimes obsti 
 nately refuse the caresses and offered lap of his mistresses, 
 and seek to ingratiate himself with some stolid theological 
 visitor, for no other earthly purpose that we could see than 
 that he was determined to make himself the object of at 
 tention. We have seen him persist in jumping time and 
 again on the hard bony knees of some man who hated 
 dogs and did not mean to notice him, until he won atten 
 tion and caresses, when immediately he would spring down 
 and tick away perfectly contented. He assumed lofty, fine- 
 gentleman airs with Prince also, for which sometimes he 
 got his reward, for Prince, the old, remembered that he 
 was a dog of blood, and would not take any nonsense from 
 him. 
 
 Like many old dogs, Prince had a very powerful doggy 
 smell, which was a great personal objection to him, and 
 Giglio was always in a civil way making reflections upon 
 this weak point. Prince was fond of indulging himself with 
 an afternoon nap on the door-mat, and sometimes when he 
 rose from his repose, Giglio would spring gracefully from 
 the table where he had been overlooking him, and, picking 
 his way daintily to the mat, would snuff at it, with his 
 long, thin nose, with an air of extreme disgust. It was 
 evidently a dog insult done according to the politest modes 
 of refined society, and said as plain as words could say, 
 " My dear sir, excuse me, but can you tell what makes this 
 peculiar smell where you have been lying ? " At any rate, 
 Prince understood the sarcasm, for a deep angry growl and 
 a sharp nip would now and then teach my fine gentleman 
 to mind his own business. 
 
 Giglio s lot at last was to travel in foreign lands, for his 
 young mistresses, being sent to school in Paris, took him 
 with them to finish his education and acquire foreign 
 graces. He was smuggled on board the Fulton, and placed 
 
84 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 in an upper berth, well wrapped in a blanket ; and the 
 last we saw of him was his long, thin, Italian nose, and 
 dark, tremulous eyes looking wistfully at us from the folds 
 of the flannel in which he shivered. Sensitiveness to cold 
 was one of his great peculiarities. In winter he wore little 
 blankets, which his fond mistresses made with anxious care, 
 and on which his initials were embroidered with their own 
 hands. In the winter weather on Zion Hill he was often 
 severely put to it to gratify his love of roving in the cold 
 snows ; he would hold up first one leg and then the other, 
 and contrive to get along on three, so as to save himself as 
 much as possible ; and more than once he caught severe 
 colds, requiring careful nursing and medical treatment to 
 bring him round again. 
 
 The Fulton sailed early in March. It was chilly, stormy 
 weather, so that the passengers all suffered somewhat with 
 cold, and Master Giglio was glad to lie rolled in his blanket, 
 looking like a sea-sick gentleman. The captain very gen 
 erously allowed him a free passage, and in pleasant weather 
 he used to promenade the deck, where his beauty won for 
 him caresses and attentions innumerable. The stewards 
 and cooks always had choice morsels for him, and fed him 
 to such a degree as would have spoiled any other dog s 
 figure ; but his could not be spoiled. All the ladies vied 
 with each other in seeking his good graces, and after din 
 ner he pattered from one to another, to be fed with sweet 
 things and confectionery, and hear his own praises, like a 
 gay buck of fashion as he was. 
 
 Landed in Paris, he met a warm reception at the pension 
 
 of Madame B ; but ambition filled his breast. He 
 
 was in the great, gay city of Paris, the place where a hand 
 some dog has but to appear to make his fortune, and so 
 Giglio resolved to seek for himself a more brilliant 
 destiny. 
 
 One day, when he was being led to take the air in the 
 
OUK DOGS 85 
 
 court, he slipped his leash, sped through the gate, and away 
 down the street like the wind. It was idle to attempt to 
 follow him ; he was gone like a bird in the air, and left the 
 hearts of his young mistresses quite desolate. 
 
 Some months after, as they were one evening eating ices 
 in the Champs Elyse es, a splendid carriage drove up, from 
 which descended a liveried servant, with a dog in his arms. 
 It was Giglio, the faithless Giglio, with his one mouse- 
 colored ear, that marked him from all other dogs ! He had 
 evidently accomplished his destiny, and become the darling 
 of rank and fashion, rode in an elegant carriage, and had 
 a servant in livery devoted to him. Of course he did not 
 pretend to notice his former friends. The footman, who 
 had come out apparently to give him an airing, led him up 
 and down close by where they were sitting, and bestowed 
 on him the most devoted attentions. Of course there was 
 no use in trying to reclaim him, and so they took their last 
 look of the fair inconstant, and left him to his brilliant 
 destiny. And thus ends the history of PRINCE GIGLIO. 
 
 IV 
 
 After Prince Giglio deserted us and proved so faithless, 
 we were for a while determined not to have another pet. 
 They were all good for nothing, all alike ungrateful ; we 
 forswore the whole race of dogs. But the next winter we 
 went to live in the beautiful city of Florence, in Italy, and 
 there, in spite of all our protestations, our hearts were 
 again ensnared. 
 
 You must know that in the neighborhood of Florence is 
 a celebrated villa, owned by a Russian nobleman, Prince 
 Demidoff, and that among other fine things that are to be 
 found there is a very nice breed of King Charles spaniels, 
 which are called DemidofFs, after the place. One of these, 
 
86 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 a pretty little creature, was presented to us by a kind lady, 
 and our resolution against having any more pets all melted 
 away in view of the soft, "beseeching eyes, the fine, silky 
 ears, the glossy, wavy hair, and bright chestnut paws of the 
 new favorite. She was exactly such a pretty creature as 
 one sees painted in some of the splendid old Italian pictures, 
 and which Mr. Kuskin describes as belonging to the race of 
 " fringy paws." The little creature was warmly received 
 among us ; an ottoman was set apart for her to lie on ; and 
 a bright bow of green, red, and white ribbon, the Italian 
 colors, was prepared for her neck ; and she was christened 
 Florence, after her native city. 
 
 Florence was a perfect little fine lady, and a perfect 
 Italian, sensitive, intelligent, nervous, passionate, and 
 constant in her attachments, but with a hundred little whims 
 and fancies that required petting and tending hourly. She 
 was perfectly miserable if she was not allowed to attend us 
 in our daily drives, yet in the carriage she was so excitable 
 and restless, so interested to take part in everything she 
 saw and heard in the street, that it was all we could do to 
 hold her in and make her behave herself decently. She was 
 nothing but a little bundle of nerves, apparently all the while 
 in a tremble of excitement about one thing or another ; she 
 was so disconsolate if left at home, that she went everywhere 
 with us. She visited the picture galleries, the museums, 
 and all the approved sights of Florence, and improved her 
 mind as much as many other young ladies who do the same. 
 
 Then we removed from Florence to Rome, and poor Flo 
 was direfully seasick on board the steamboat, in company 
 with all her young mistresses, but recovered herself at Civita 
 Vecchia, and entered Rome in high feather. There she 
 settled herself complacently in our new lodgings, which 
 were far more spacious and elegant than those we had left 
 in Florence, and began to claim her little rights in all the 
 sight-seeing of the Eternal City. 
 
OUR DOGS 87 
 
 She went with us to palaces and to ruins, scrambling up 
 and down, hither and thither, with the utmost show of in 
 terest. She went up all the stairs to the top of the Capitol, 
 except the very highest and last, where she put on airs, 
 whimpered, and professed such little frights, that her mis 
 tress was forced to carry her ; but once on top, she barked 
 from right to left, now at the snowy top of old Soracte, 
 now at the great, wide, desolate plains of the Campagna, 
 and now at the old ruins of the Roman Forum down under 
 our feet. Upon all she had her own opinion, and was not 
 backward to express herself. At other times she used to 
 ride with us to a beautiful country villa outside of the walls 
 of Home, called the Pamfili Doria. How beautiful and 
 lovely this place was I can scarcely tell my little friends. 
 There were long alleys and walks of the most beautiful 
 trees ; there were winding paths leading to all manner of 
 beautiful grottos, and charming fountains, and the wide 
 lawns used to be covered with the most lovely flowers. 
 There were anemones that looked like little tulips, growing 
 about an inch and a half high, and of all colors, blue, 
 purple, lilac, pink, crimson, and white, and there were 
 great beds of fragrant blue and white violets. As to the 
 charming grace and beauty of the fountains that were to be 
 found here and there all through the grounds, I could not 
 describe them to you. They were made of marble, carved 
 in all sorts of fanciful devices, and grown over with green 
 mosses and maidenhair. 
 
 What spirits little Miss Flo had, when once set down in 
 these enchanting fields ! While all her mistresses were 
 gathering lapfuls of many-colored anemones, violets, and 
 all sorts of beautiful things, Flo would snuff the air, and 
 run and race hither and thither, with her silky ears flying 
 and her whole little body quivering with excitement. Now 
 she would race round the grand basin of a fountain, and 
 bark with all her might at the great white swans that were 
 
88 QUEEK LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 swelling and ruffling their silver-white plumage, and took 
 her noisy attentions with all possible composure. Then she 
 would run off down some long side alley after a lot of 
 French soldiers, whose gay red legs and blue coats seemed 
 to please her mightily ; and many a fine chase she gave 
 her mistresses, who were obliged to run up and down, here, 
 there, and everywhere, to find her when they wanted to go 
 home again. 
 
 One time my lady s friskiness brought her into quite a 
 serious trouble, as you shall hear. We were all going to 
 St. Peter s Church, and just as we came to the bridge of 
 St. Angelo, that crosses the Tiber, we met quite a con 
 course of carriages. Up jumped my lady Florence, all 
 alive and busy, for she always reckoned everything that 
 was going on a part of her business, and gave such a 
 spring that over she went, sheer out of the carriage, into 
 the mixed medley of carriages, horses, and people below. 
 We were all frightened enough, but not half so frightened 
 as she was, as she ran blindly down a street, followed by a 
 perfect train of ragged little black-eyed, black-haired boys, 
 all shouting and screaming after her. As soon as he could, 
 our courier got down and ran after her, but he might as 
 well have chased a streak of summer lightning. She was 
 down the street, round the corner, and lost to view, with 
 all the ragamuffin tribe, men, boys, and women, after her; 
 and so we thought we had lost her, and came home to our 
 lodgings very desolate in heart, when lo ! our old porter 
 told us that a little dog that looked like ours had come 
 begging and whining at our street door, but before he could 
 open it the poor little wanderer had been chased away 
 again and gone down the street. After a while some very 
 polite French soldiers picked her up in the Piazza, di 
 Spagna, a great public square near our dwelling, to get 
 into which we were obliged to go down some one or two 
 hundred steps. We could fancy our poor Flo, frightened 
 
OUR DOGS 89 
 
 and panting, flying like a meteor down these steps, till she 
 was brought up by the arms of a soldier below. 
 
 Glad enough were we when the polite soldier brought 
 her back to our doors ; and one must say one good thing 
 for French soldiers aJl the world over, that they are the 
 pleasantest-tempered and politest people possible, so very 
 tender-hearted towards all sorts of little defenseless pets, so 
 that our poor runaway could not have fallen into better 
 hands. 
 
 After this, we were careful to hold her more firmly 
 when she had her little nervous starts and struggles in 
 riding about Home. 
 
 One day we had been riding outside of the walls of the 
 city, and just as we were returning home we saw coming 
 towards us quite a number of splendid carriages with 
 prancing black horses. It was the Pope and several of 
 his cardinals coming out for an afternoon airing. The car 
 riages stopped, and the Pope and cardinals all got out to 
 take a little exercise on foot, and immediately all carriages 
 that were in the way drew to one side, and those of the 
 people in them who were Roman Catholics got out and 
 knelt down to wait for the Pope s blessing as he went by. 
 As for us, we were contented to wait sitting in the carriage. 
 
 On came the Pope, looking like a fat, mild, kind-hearted 
 old gentleman, smiling and blessing the people as he went 
 on, and the cardinals scuffing along in the dust behind 
 him. He walked very near to our carriage, and Miss 
 Florence, notwithstanding all our attempts to keep her 
 decent, would give a smart little bow-wow right in his face 
 just as he was passing. He smiled benignly, and put out 
 his hand in sign of blessing toward our carriage, and 
 Florence doubtless got what she had been asking for. 
 
 From Rome we traveled to Naples, and Miss Flo went 
 with us through our various adventures there, up Mount 
 Vesuvius, where she half choked herself with sulphurous 
 
90 QUEEK LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 smoke. There is a place near Naples called the Solfatara, 
 which is thought to be the crater of the extinct volcano, 
 where there is a cave that hisses, and roars, and puffs out 
 scalding steam like a perpetual locomotive, and all the 
 ground around shakes and quivers as if it were only a 
 crust over some terrible abyss. The pools of water are all 
 white with sulphur ; the ground is made of sulphur and 
 arsenic and all such sort of uncanny matters ; and we 
 were in a fine fright lest Miss Florence, being in one of 
 her wildest and most indiscreet moods, should tumble into 
 some burning hole, or strangle herself with sulphur ; and 
 in fact she rolled over and over in a sulphur puddle, and 
 then, scampering off, rolled in ashes by way of cleaning 
 herself. We could not, however, leave her at home during 
 any of our excursions, and so had to make the best of 
 these imprudences. 
 
 When at last the time came for us to leave Italy, we 
 were warned that Florence would not be allowed to travel 
 in the railroad cars in the French territories. All dogs, of 
 all sizes and kinds, whose owners wish to have travel with 
 them, are shut up in a sort of closet by themselves, called 
 the dog-car; and we thought our nervous, excitable little 
 pet would be frightened into fits, to be separated from all 
 her friends, and made to travel with all sorts of strange 
 dogs. So we determined to smuggle her along in a bas 
 ket. At Turin we bought a little black basket, just big 
 enough to contain her, and into it we made her go, 
 very sorely against her will, as we could not explain to 
 her the reason why. Very guilty indeed we felt, with this 
 traveling conveyance hung on one arm, sitting in the 
 waiting-room, and dreading every minute lest somebody 
 should see the great bright eyes peeping through the holes 
 of the basket, or hear the subdued little whines and howls 
 which every now and then came from its depths. 
 
 Florence had been a petted lady, used to having her own 
 
OUR DOGS 91 
 
 way, and a great deal of it ; and this being put up in a 
 little black basket, where she could neither make her re 
 marks on the scenery, nor join in the conversation of her 
 young mistresses, seemed to her a piece of caprice without 
 rhyme or reason. So every once in a while she would ex 
 press her mind on the subject by a sudden dismal little 
 whine ; and what was specially trying, she would take the 
 occasion to do this when the cars stopped and all was 
 quiet, so that everybody could hear her. Where 7 s that 
 dog ? somebody s got a dog in here, was the inquiry 
 very plain to be seen in the suspicious looks which the 
 guard cast upon us as he put his head into our compart 
 ment, and gazed about inquiringly. Finally, to our great 
 terror, a railway director, a tall, gentlemanly man, took his 
 seat in our very compartment, where Miss Florence s bas 
 ket garnished the pocket above our heads, and she was in 
 one of her most querulous moods. At every stopping-place 
 she gave her little sniffs and howls, and rattled her basket 
 so as to draw all eyes. We all tried to look innocent and 
 unconscious, but the polite railroad director very easily 
 perceived what was the matter. He looked from one 
 anxious, half-laughing face to the others, with a kindly 
 twinkle in his eye, but said nothing. All the guards and 
 employes bowed down to him, and came cap in hand at 
 every stopping-place to take his orders. What a relief it 
 was to hear him say, in a low voice, to them : " These 
 young ladies have a little dog which they are carrying. 
 Take no notice of it, and do not disturb them ! " Of 
 course, after that, though Florence barked and howled and 
 rattled her basket, and sometimes showed her great eyes, 
 like two coal-black diamonds, through its lattice-work, 
 nobody saw and nobody heard, and we came unmolested 
 with her to Paris. 
 
 After a while she grew accustomed to her little traveling 
 carriage, and resigned herself quietly to go to sleep in it ; 
 
92 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 and so we got her from Paris to Kent, where we stopped a 
 few days to visit some friends in a lovely country place 
 called Swaylands. 
 
 Here we had presented to us another pet, that was ever 
 after the chosen companion and fast friend of Florence. 
 He was a little Skye terrier, of the color of a Maltese cat, 
 covered all over with fine, long, silky hair, which hung 
 down so evenly, that it was difficult at the first glance to 
 say which was his head and which his tail. But at the 
 head end there gleamed out a pair of great, soft, speaking 
 eyes, that formed the only heauty of the creature ; and very 
 beautiful they were, in their soft, beseeching lovingness. 
 
 Poor Rag had the tenderest heart that ever was hid in a 
 bundle of hair ; he was fidelity and devotion itself, and used 
 to lie at our feet in the railroad carriages as still as a gray 
 sheep-skin, only too happy to be there on any terms. It 
 would be too long to tell our traveling adventures in 
 England ; suffice it to say that at last we went on board 
 the Africa to come home, with our two pets, which had to 
 be handed over to the butcher, and slept on quarters of 
 mutton and sides of beef, till they smelt of tallow and grew 
 fat in a most vulgar way. 
 
 At last both of them were safely installed in the brown 
 stone cottage in Andover, and Rag was presented to a young 
 lady to whom he had been sent as a gift from England, 
 and to whom he attached himself with the most faithful 
 devotion. 
 
 Both dogs insisted on having their part of the daily 
 walks and drives of their young mistresses, and, when they 
 observed them putting on their hats, would run, and bark, 
 and leap, and make as much noise as a family of children 
 clamoring for a ride. 
 
 After a few months, Florence had three or four little 
 puppies. Very puny little things they were ; and a fierce^ 
 nervous little mother she made. Her eyes looked blue as 
 
OUR DOGS 93 
 
 burnished steel, and if anybody only set foot in the room 
 where her basket was, her hair would bristle, and she would 
 bark so fiercely as to be quite alarming. For all that, her 
 little ones proved quite a failure, for they were all stone- 
 blind. In vain we waited and hoped and watched for nine 
 days, and long after ; the eyes were glazed and dim, and one 
 by one they died. The last two seemed to promise to sur 
 vive, and were familiarly known in the family circle by the 
 names of Milton and Beethoven. 
 
 But the fatigues of nursing exhausted the delicate consti 
 tution of poor Florence, and she lay all one day in spasms. 
 It became evident that a tranquil passage must be secured 
 for Milton and Beethoven to the land of shades, or their 
 little mother would go there herself ; and accordingly they 
 vanished from this life. 
 
 As to poor Flo, the young medical student in the family 
 took her into a water-cure course of treatment, wrapping her 
 in a wet napkin first, and then in his scarlet flannel dress 
 ing-gown, and keeping a wet cloth with iced water round 
 her head. She looked out of her wrappings, patient and 
 pitiful, like a very small old African female, in a very 
 serious state of mind. To the glory of the water-cure, 
 however, this course in one day so cured her, that she was 
 frisking about the next, happy as if nothing had happened. 
 
 She had, however, a slight attack of the spasms, which 
 caused her to run frantically and cry to have the hall-door 
 opened ; and when it was opened, she scampered up in all 
 haste into the chamber of her medical friend, and, not 
 finding him there, jumped upon his bed, and began with 
 her teeth and paws to get around her the scarlet dressing- 
 gown in which she had found relief before. So she was 
 again packed in wet napkins, and after that never had 
 another attack. 
 
 After this, Florence was begged from us by a lady who 
 fell in love with her beautiful eyes, and she went to reside 
 
94 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 in a most lovely cottage in H , where she received the 
 
 devoted attentions of a whole family. The family physician, 
 however, fell violently in love with her, and, by dint of 
 caring for her in certain little ailments, awakened such a 
 sentiment in return, that at last she was given to him, and 
 used to ride about in state with him in his carriage, visiting 
 his patients, and giving her opinion on their symptoms. 
 
 At last her health grew delicate and her appetite failed. 
 In vain chicken, and chops, and all the delicacies that could 
 tempt the most fastidious, were offered to her, cooked ex 
 pressly for her table ; the end of all things fair must come, 
 and poor Florence breathed her last, and was put into a 
 little rosewood casket, lined with white, and studded with 
 silver nails, and so buried under a fine group of chestnuts 
 in the grounds of her former friends. A marble tablet was 
 to be affixed to one of these, commemorating her charms ; 
 but, like other spoiled beauties, her memory soon faded, 
 and the tablet has been forgotten. 
 
 The mistress of Rag, who is devoted to his memory, in 
 sists that not enough space has been given in this memoir 
 to his virtues. But the virtues of honest Rag were of that 
 kind which can be told in a few sentences, a warm, lov 
 ing heart, a boundless desire to be loved, and a devotion 
 that made him regard with superstitious veneration all the 
 movements of his mistress. The only shrewd trick he pos 
 sessed was a habit of drawing on her sympathy by feigning 
 a lame leg whenever she scolded or corrected him. In his 
 English days he had had an injury from the kick of a 
 horse, which, however, had long since been healed ; but he 
 remembered the petting he got for this infirmity, and so 
 recalled it whenever he found that his mistress s stock of 
 affection was running low. A blow or a harsh word would 
 cause him to limp in an alarming manner ; but a few ca 
 resses would set matters all straight again. 
 
 Rag had been a frantic ratter, and often roused the 
 
OUR DOGS 95 
 
 whole family by his savage yells after rats that he heard 
 gamboling quite out of his reach behind the partitions in the 
 china closet. He would crouch his head on his fore-paws, 
 and lie watching at rat-holes, in hopes of intercepting some 
 transient loafer ; and one day he actually broke the back 
 and bones of a gray old thief whom he caught marauding 
 in the china closet. 
 
 Proud and happy was he of this feat ; but, poor fellow ! 
 he had to repose on the laurels thus gained, for his teeth 
 were old and poor, and more than one old rebel slipped 
 away from him, leaving him screaming with disappointed 
 ambition. 
 
 At last poor Bag became aged and toothless, and a shake 
 which he one day received from a big dog, who took him 
 for a bundle of wick-yarn, hastened the breaking up of his 
 constitution. He was attacked with acute rheumatism, and, 
 notwithstanding the most assiduous cares of his mistress, 
 died at last in her arms. 
 
 Funeral honors were decreed him ; white chrysanthe 
 mums and myrtle leaves decked his bier. And so Kag was 
 gathered to the dogs which had gone before him. 
 
 Well, after the departure of Madam Florence there was 
 a long cessation of the dog mania in our family. We con 
 cluded that we would have no more pets ; for they made 
 too much anxiety, and care, and trouble, and broke all our 
 hearts by death or desertion. 
 
 At last, however, some neighbors of ours took unto them 
 selves, to enliven their dwelling, a little saucy Scotch ter 
 rier, whose bright eyes and wicked tricks so wrought upon 
 the heart of one of our juvenile branches, that there was 
 no rest in the camp without this addition to it. Nothing 
 
96 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 was so pretty, so bright, so knowing and cunning, as a 
 " Scotch terrier," and a Scotch terrier we must have, so 
 said Miss Jenny, our youngest. 
 
 And so a bargain was struck by one of Jenny s friends 
 with some of the knowing ones in Boston, and home she 
 came, the happy possessor of a genuine article, as wide 
 awake, impertinent, frisky, and wicked a little elf as ever 
 was covered with a shock of rough tan-colored hair. 
 
 His mistress no sooner gazed on him, than she was in 
 spired to give him a name suited to his peculiar character ; 
 so he frisked into the front door announced as Wix, and 
 soon made himself perfectly at home in the family circle, 
 which he took, after his own fashion, by storm. He entered 
 the house like a small whirlwind, dashed, the first thing, 
 into the Professor s study, seized a slipper which was dang 
 ling rather uncertainly on one of his studious feet, and, 
 wresting it off, raced triumphantly with it around the hall, 
 barking distractedly every minute that he was not shaking 
 and worrying his prize. 
 
 Great was the sensation. Grandma tottered with trem 
 bling steps to the door, and asked, with hesitating tones, 
 what sort of a creature that might be ; and being saluted 
 with the jubilant proclamation, " Why, Grandma, it J s my 
 dog, a real genuine Scotch terrier j he 11 never grow 
 any larger, and he s a perfect beauty ! don t you think 
 so ? " Grandma could only tremblingly reply, " Oh, there 
 is not any danger of his going mad, is there ? Is he gen 
 erally so playful ? " 
 
 Playful was certainly a mild term for the tempest of ex 
 citement in which master Wix flew round and round in 
 giddy circles, springing over ottomans, diving under sofas, 
 barking from beneath chairs, and resisting every effort 
 to recapture the slipper with bristling hair and blazing 
 eyes, as if the whole of his dog-life consisted in keeping his 
 prize ; till at length he caught a glimpse of pussy s tail, 
 
OUR DOGS 97 
 
 at which, dropping the slipper, he precipitated himself after 
 the flying meteor, tumbling, rolling, and scratching down 
 the kitchen stairs, standing on his hind-legs barking dis 
 tractedly at poor Tom, who had taken refuge in the sink, 
 and sat with his tail magnified to the size of a small bol 
 ster. 
 
 This cat, the most reputable and steady individual of his 
 species, the darling of the most respectable of cooks, had 
 received the name of Thomas Henry, by which somewhat 
 lengthy appellation he was generally designated in the 
 family circle, as a mark of the respect which his serious and 
 contemplative manner commonly excited. Thomas had but 
 one trick of popularity. With much painstaking and care 
 the cook had taught him the act of performing a somerset 
 over our hands when held at a decent height from the 
 floor ; and for this one elegant accomplishment, added to 
 great success in his calling of rat-catching, he was held in 
 great consideration in the family, and had meandered his 
 decorous way about the house, slept in the sun, and other 
 wise conducted himself with the innocent and tranquil 
 freedom which became a family cat of correct habits and 
 a good conscience. 
 
 The irruption of Wix into our establishment was like 
 the bursting of a bomb at the feet of some respectable 
 citizen going tranquilly to market. Thomas was a cat of 
 courage, and rats of the largest size shrunk appalled at the 
 very sight of his whiskers ; but now he sat in the sink 
 quite cowed, consulting with great, anxious, yellow eyes the 
 throng of faces that followed Wix down the stairs, and 
 watching anxiously the efforts Miss Jenny was making to 
 subdue and quiet him. 
 
 " Wix, you naughty little rascal, you must n t bark at 
 Thomas Henry ; be still ! " Whereat Wix, understanding 
 himself to be blamed, brought forth his trump card of ac 
 complishments, which he always offered by way of pacifica- 
 
98 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 tion whenever he was scolded. He reared himself up on 
 his hind-legs, hung his head languishingly on one side, 
 lolled out his tongue, and made a series of supplicatory 
 gestures with his fore-paws, a trick which never failed to 
 bring down the house in a storm of applause, and carry him 
 out of any scrape with flying colors. 
 
 Poor Thomas Henry, from his desolate sink, saw his 
 terrible rival carried off in Miss Jenny s arms amid the ap 
 plauses of the whole circle, and had abundance of time to 
 reflect on the unsubstantial nature of popularity. After 
 that he grew dejected and misanthropic, a real Cardinal 
 Wolsey in furs, for Wix was possessed with a perfect 
 cat-hunting mania, and, when he was not employed in 
 other mischief, was always ready for a bout with Thomas 
 Henry. 
 
 It is true, he sometimes came back from these encoun 
 ters with a scratched and bloody nose, for Thomas Henry 
 was a cat of no mean claw, and would turn to bay at 
 times ; but generally he felt the exertion too much for his 
 advanced years and quiet habits, and so for safety he passed 
 much of his time in the sink, over the battlements of which 
 he would leisurely survey the efforts of the enemy to get at 
 him. The cook hinted strongly of the danger of rheuma 
 tism to her favorite from these damp quarters, but Wix at 
 present was the reigning favorite, and it was vain to dispute 
 his sway. 
 
 Next to Thomas Henry, Wix directed his principal 
 efforts to teasing Grandmamma. Something or other about 
 her black dress and quiet movements seemed to suggest to 
 him suspicions. He viewed her as something to be nar 
 rowly watched ; he would lie down under some chair or 
 table, and watch her motions with his head on his fore- 
 paws as if he were watching at a rat-hole. She evidently 
 was not a rat, he seemed to say to himself, but who knows 
 what she may be ; and he would wink at her with his 
 
OUR DOGS 99 
 
 great bright eyes, and, if she began to get up, would spring 
 from his ambush and bark at her feet with frantic energy, 
 by which means he nearly threw her over two or three 
 times. 
 
 His young mistress kept a rod, and put him through a 
 severe course of discipline for these offenses ; after which 
 he grew more careful, but still the unaccountable fascina 
 tion seemed to continue ; still he would lie in ambush, and, 
 though forbidden to bark, would dart stealthily forward 
 when he saw her preparing to rise, and be under her dress 
 smelling in a suspicious manner at her heels. He would 
 spring from his place at the fire, and rush to the staircase 
 when he heard her leisurely step descending the stairs, and 
 once or twice nearly overset her by being under her heels, 
 bringing on himself a chastisement which he in vain sought 
 to avert by the most vigorous deprecatory pawing. 
 
 Grandmamma s favorite evening employment was to sit 
 sleeping in her chair, gradually bobbing her head lower 
 and lower, all which movements Wix would watch, giving 
 a short snap, or a suppressed growl, at every bow. What 
 he would have done if, as John Bunyan says, he had been 
 allowed to have his " doggish way " with her, it is impos 
 sible to say. Once he succeeded in seizing the slipper 
 from her foot as she sat napping, and a glorious race he 
 had with it, out at the front door, up the path to the 
 Theological Seminary, and round and round the halls con 
 secrated to better things, with all the glee of an imp. At 
 another time he made a dart into her apartment, and seized 
 a turkey-wing which the good old lady had used for a 
 duster, and made such a regular forenoon s work of worry 
 ing, shaking, and teasing it, that every feather in it was 
 utterly demolished. 
 
 In fact, there was about Wix something so elfish and 
 impish, that there began to be shrewd suspicions that he 
 must be somehow or other a descendant of the celebrated 
 
100 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 poodle of Faust, and that one need not be surprised some 
 day to have him suddenly looming up into some uncanny 
 shape, or entering into conversation, and uttering all sorts 
 of improprieties unbefitting a theological professor s family. 
 
 He had a persistence in wicked ways that resisted the 
 most energetic nurture and admonition of his young mis 
 tress. His combativeness was such, that a peaceable walk 
 down the fashionable street of Zion Hill in his company 
 became impossible ; all was race and scurry, cackle and 
 nutter, wherever he appeared, hens and poultry flying, 
 frightened cats mounting trees with magnified tails, dogs 
 yelping and snarling, and children and cows running in 
 every direction. No modest young lady could possibly 
 walk out in company with such a son of confusion. Be 
 side this, Wix had his own private inexplicable personal 
 piques against different visitors in the family, and in the 
 most unexpected moment would give a snap or a nip to 
 the most unoffending person. His friends in the family 
 circle dropped off. His ways were pronounced too bad, 
 his conduct perfectly indefensible ; his young mistress 
 alone clung to him, and declared that her vigorous system 
 of education would at last reform his eccentricities, and 
 turn him out a tip-top dog. But when he would slyly 
 leave home, and, after rolling and steeping himself in the 
 ill-smelling deposits of the stable or drain, come home and 
 spring with impudent ease into her lap, or put himself to 
 sleep on her little white bed, the magic cords of affection 
 gave out, and disgust began to succeed. It began to be 
 remarked that this was a stable-dog, educated for the coach- 
 boy and stable, and to be doubted whether it was worth 
 while to endeavor to raise him to a lady s boudoir ; and so 
 at last, when the family removed from Zion Hill, he was 
 taken back and disposed of at a somewhat reduced price. 
 
 Since then, as we are informed, he has risen to fame 
 and honor. His name has even appeared in sporting ga- 
 
OUR DOGS 
 
 zettes as the most celebrated " ratter " in little Boston, and 
 his mistress was solemnly assured by his present possessor 
 that for " cat work " he was unequaled, and that he would 
 not take fifty dollars for him. From all which it appears 
 that a dog which is only a torment and a nuisance in one 
 sphere may be an eminent character in another. 
 
 The catalogue of our dogs ends with Wix. Whether we 
 shall ever have another or not we cannot tell, but in the 
 following pages I will tell my young readers a few true 
 stories of other domestic pets which may amuse them. 
 
DOGS AND CATS 
 
 AND now, with all and each, of the young friends who 
 have read these little histories of our dogs, we want to have 
 a few moments of quiet chat about dogs and household pets 
 in general. 
 
 In these stories you must have noticed that each dog had 
 as much his own character as if he had been a human be 
 ing. Carlo was not like Rover, nor Rover like Giglio, nor 
 Giglio like Florence, nor Florence like Rag, nor Rag like 
 Wix, any more than Charley is like Fred, or Fred like 
 Henry, or Henry like Eliza, or Eliza like Julia. Every 
 animal has his own character, as marked and distinct as a 
 human being. Many people who have not studied much 
 into the habits of animals don t know this. To them a 
 dog is a dog, a cat a cat, a horse a horse, and no more, 
 that is the end of it. 
 
 But domestic animals that associate with human beings 
 develop a very different character from what they would 
 possess in a wild state. Dogs, for example, in those coun 
 tries where there is a prejudice against receiving them into 
 man s association, herd together, and become wild and 
 fierce like wolves. This is the case in many Oriental coun 
 tries, where there are superstitious ideas about dogs ; as, 
 for instance, that they are unclean and impure. But in 
 other countries the dog, for the most part, forsakes all 
 other dogs to become the associate of man. A dog without 
 a master is a forlorn creature ; no society of other dogs 
 seems to console him ; he wanders about disconsolate, till 
 he finds some human being to whom to attach himself, and 
 
DOGS AND CATS 103 
 
 then he is a made dog, he pads about with an air of dig 
 nity, like a dog that is settled in life. 
 
 There are among dogs certain races or large divisions, and 
 those belonging purely to any of those races are called 
 blood-dogs. As examples of what we mean by these races, 
 we will mention the spaniel, the mastiff, the bulldog, the 
 hound, and the terrier ; and each of these divisions contains 
 many species, and each has a strongly marked character. 
 The spaniel tribes are gentle, docile, easily attached to man ; 
 from them many hunting dogs are trained. The bulldog 
 is irritable, a terrible fighter, and fiercely faithful to his 
 master. A mastiff is strong, large, not as fierce as the bull 
 dog, but watchful and courageous, with a peculiar sense of 
 responsibility in guarding anything which is placed under 
 his charge. The hounds are slender, lean, wiry, with a 
 long, pointed muzzle, and a peculiar sensibility in the sense 
 of smell, and their instincts lead them to hunting and 
 tracking. As a general thing, they are cowardly and in 
 disposed to combat ; there are, however, remarkable excep 
 tions, as you will see if you read the account of the 
 good black hound which Sir Walter Scott tells about in 
 " The Talisman," a story which I advise you to read at 
 your next leisure. The terriers are, for the most part, 
 small dogs, smart, bright, and active, very intelligent, and 
 capable of being taught many tricks. Of these there are 
 several varieties, as the English black and tan, which is 
 the neatest and prettiest pet a family of children can have, 
 as his hair is so short and close that he can harbor no fleas, 
 and he is always good-tempered, lively, and affectionate. 
 The Skye terrier, with his mouse-colored mop of hair, and 
 his great bright eyes, is very loving and very sagacious ; 
 but alas ! unless you can afford a great deal of time for 
 soap, water, and fine-tooth-comb exercises, he will bring 
 more company than you will like. The Scotch terriers are 
 rough, scraggy, affectionate, but so nervous, frisky, and 
 
104 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 mischievous that they are only to be recommended as out 
 door pets in barn and stable. They are capital rat-catchers, 
 very amicable with horses, and will sit up by the driver or 
 a coach-boy with an air of great sagacity. 
 
 There is something very curious about the habits and in 
 stincts of certain dogs which have been trained by man for 
 his own purposes. In the mountains of Scotland, there is 
 a tribe of dogs called shepherd-dogs, which for generations 
 and ages have helped the shepherds to take care of their 
 sheep, and which look for all the world like long-nosed, high- 
 cheek-boned, careful old Scotchmen. You will see them in 
 the morning, trotting out their flock of sheep, walking 
 about with a grave, care-taking air, and at evening all bustle 
 and importance, hurrying and scurrying hither and thither, 
 getting their charge all together for the night. An old 
 Scotchman tells us that his dog Hector, by long sharing his 
 toils and cares, got to looking so much like him, that once, 
 when he felt too sleepy to go to meeting, he sent Hector to 
 take his seat in the pew, and the minister never knew the 
 difference, but complimented him the next day for his good 
 attention to the sermon. 
 
 There is a kind of dog employed by the monks of St. 
 Bernard in the Alps, to go out and seek in the snow for 
 travelers who may have lost their way ; and this habit be 
 comes such a strong instinct in them, that I once knew a 
 puppy of this species which was brought by a shipmaster to 
 Maine, and grew up in a steady New England town, which 
 used to alarm his kind friends by rushing off into the pine 
 forest in snow-storms, and running anxiously up and down, 
 burrowing in the snow as if in quest of something. 
 
 I have seen one of a remarkable breed of dogs that are 
 brought from the island of Manilla. They resemble mastiffs 
 in their form, but are immensely large and strong. They 
 are trained to detect thieves, and kept by merchants on 
 board of vessels where the natives are very sly and much 
 
DOGS AND CATS 105 
 
 given to stealing. They are called holders, and their way 
 is, when a strange man, whose purposes they do not under 
 stand, comes on board the ship, to take a very gentle but 
 decisive hold of him by the heel, and keep him fast until 
 somebody comes to look after him. The dog I knew of 
 this species stood about as high as an ordinary dining-table, 
 and I have seen him stroke off the dinner-cloth with one 
 wag of his tail in his pleasure when I patted his head. 
 He was very intelligent and affectionate. 
 
 There is another dog, which may often be seen in Paris, 
 called the Spitz dog. He is a white, smooth-haired, small 
 creature, with a great muff of stiff hair round his neck, and 
 generally comes into Paris riding horseback on the cart-horses 
 which draw the carts of the washerwomen. He races nim 
 bly up and down on the back of the great heavy horses, bark 
 ing from right to left with great animation, and is said to 
 be a most faithful little creature in guarding the property 
 of his owner. What is peculiar about these little dogs is 
 the entireness of their devotion to their master. They have 
 not a look, not a wag of the tail, for any one else ; it is vain 
 for a stranger to try and make friends with them, they 
 have eyes and ears for one alone. 
 
 All dogs which do not belong to some of the great vari 
 eties, on the one side of their parentage or the other, are 
 classed together as curs, and very much undervalued and 
 decried ; and yet among these mongrel curs we have seen 
 individuals quite as sagacious, intelligent, and affectionate 
 as the best blood-dogs. 
 
 And now I want to say some things to those young 
 people who desire to adopt as domestic pets either a dog or 
 a cat. Don t do it without making up your mind to be 
 really and thoroughly kind to them, and feeding them as 
 carefully as you feed yourself, and giving them appropriate 
 shelter from the inclemency of the weather. 
 
 Some people seem to have a general idea that throwing 
 
106 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 a scrap, or bone, or bit of refuse meat, at odd intervals, to 
 a dog, is taking abundant care of him. " What s the 
 matter with him ? he can t be hungry, I gave him that 
 great bone yesterday." Ah, Master Hopeful, how would you 
 like to be fed on the same principle ? When you show 
 your hungry face at the dinner-table, suppose papa should 
 say, " What s that boy here for ? He was fed this morn 
 ing." You would think this hard measure ; yet a dog s or 
 cat s stomach digests as rapidly as yours. In like manner, 
 dogs are often shut out of the house in cold winter weather 
 without the least protection being furnished them. A lady 
 and I looked out once, in a freezing icy day, and saw a 
 great Newfoundland cowering in a corner of a fence to keep 
 from the driving wind ; and I said, " Do tell me if you 
 have no kennel for that poor creature." " No," said the 
 lady. " I did n t know that dogs needed shelter. Now I 
 think of it, I remember last spring he seemed quite poorly, 
 and his hair seemed to come out j do you suppose it was 
 being exposed so much in the winter ? " This lady had 
 taken into her family a living creature, without ever having 
 reflected on what that creature needed, or that it was her 
 duty to provide for its wants. 
 
 Dogs can bear more cold than human beings, but they 
 do not like cold any better than we do ; and when a dog 
 has his choice, he will very gladly stretch himself on a rug 
 before the fire for his afternoon nap, and show that he 
 enjoys the blaze and warmth as much as anybody. 
 
 As to cats, many people seem to think that a miserable, 
 half-starved beast, never fed, and always hunted and beaten, 
 and with no rights that anybody is bound to respect, is a 
 necessary appendage to a family. They have the idea that 
 all a cat is good for is to catch rats, and that if well fed 
 they will not do this, and so they starve them. This is 
 a mistake in fact. Cats are hunting animals, and have the 
 natural instinct to pursue and catch prey, and a cat that is 
 
DOGS AND CATS 107 
 
 a good mouser will do this whether well or ill fed. To live 
 only upon rats is said to injure the health of the cat, and 
 bring on convulsions. 
 
 The most beautiful and best trained cat I ever knew was 
 named Juno, and was brought up by a lady who was so 
 wise in all that related to the care and management of 
 animals that she might be quoted as authority on all 
 points of their nurture and breeding ; and Juno, carefully 
 trained by such a mistress, was a standing example of the 
 virtues which may be formed in a cat by careful education. 
 
 Never was Juno known to be out of place, to take her 
 nap elsewhere than on her own appointed cushion, to be 
 absent at meal-times, or, when the most tempting dainties 
 were in her power, to anticipate the proper time by jump 
 ing on the table to help herself. 
 
 In all her personal habits Juno was of a neatness unpar 
 alleled in cat history. The parlor of her mistress was 
 always of a waxen and spotless cleanness, and Juno would 
 have died sooner than violate its sanctity by any impro 
 priety. She was a skilful mouser, and her sleek, glossy 
 sides were a sufficient refutation of the absurd notion that 
 a cat must be starved into a display of her accomplishments. 
 Every rat, mouse, or ground-mole that she caught was 
 brought in and laid at the feet of her mistress for approba 
 tion. But on one point her mind was dark. She could 
 never be made to comprehend the great difference between 
 fur and feathers, nor see why her mistress should gravely 
 reprove her when she brought in a bird, and warmly com 
 mend when she captured a mouse. 
 
 After a while a little dog named Pero, with whom Juno 
 had struck up a friendship, got into the habit of coming to 
 her mistress s apartment at the hours when her modest 
 meals were served, on which occasions Pero thought it 
 would be a good idea to invite himself to make a third. 
 He had a nice little trick of making himself amiable, by 
 
108 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 sitting up on his haunches, and making little begging ges 
 tures with his two fore-paws, which so much pleased his 
 hostess that sometimes he was fed before Juno. Juno ob 
 served this in silence for some time ; but at last a bright 
 idea struck her, and, gravely rearing up on her haunches, 
 she imitated Pero s gestures with her fore-paws. Of course 
 this carried the day, and secured her position. 
 
 Cats are often said to have no heart, to be attached 
 to places, but incapable of warm personal affection. It was 
 reserved for Juno by her sad end to refute this slander on 
 her race. Her mistress was obliged to leave her quiet home, 
 and go to live in a neighboring city ; so she gave Juno to 
 the good lady who inhabited the other part of the house. 
 
 But no attentions or care on the part of her new mistress 
 could banish from Juno s mind the friend she had lost. 
 The neat little parlor where she had spent so many pleasant 
 hours was dismantled and locked up, but Juno would go, 
 day after day, and sit on the ledge of the window-seat, 
 looking in and mewing dolefully. She refused food ; and, 
 when too weak to mount on the sill and look in, stretched her 
 self on the ground beneath the window, where she died for 
 love of her mistress, as truly as any lover in an old ballad. 
 
 You see by this story the moral that I wish to convey. 
 It is, that watchfulness, kindness, and care will develop a 
 nature in animals such as we little dream of. Love will 
 beget love, regular care and attention will give regular 
 habits, and thus domestic pets may be made agreeable and 
 interesting. 
 
 Any one who does not feel an inclination or capacity to 
 take the amount of care and pains necessary for the well- 
 being of an animal ought conscientiously to abstain from 
 having one in charge. A carefully tended pet, whether dog 
 or cat, is a pleasant addition to a family of young people ; 
 but a neglected, ill-brought-up, ill-kept one is only an an 
 noyance. 
 
DOGS AND CATS 109 
 
 We should remember, too, in all our dealings with ani 
 mals, that they are a sacred trust to us from our Heavenly 
 Father. They are dumb, and cannot speak for themselves ; 
 they cannot explain their wants or justify their conduct; 
 and therefore we should be tender towards them. 
 
 Our Lord says not even a little sparrow falls to the ground 
 without our Heavenly Father, and we may believe that his 
 eye takes heed of the disposition which we show towards 
 those defenseless beings whom he thinks worthy of his pro 
 tection. 
 
AUNT ESTHER S EULES 
 
 IN the last number I told my little friends about my 
 good Aunt Esther, and her wonderful cat Juno, and her 
 dog Pero. In thinking what to write for this month my 
 mind goes far back to the days when I was a little girl, and 
 used to spend many happy hours in Aunt Esther s parlor 
 talking with her. Her favorite subject was always the 
 habits and character of different animals, and their various 
 ways and instincts, and she used to tell us so many wonder 
 ful, yet perfectly authentic, stories about all these things, 
 that the hours passed away very quickly. 
 
 Some of her rules for the treatment and care of animals 
 have impressed themselves so distinctly on my mind, that 
 I shall never forget them, and I am going to repeat some of 
 them to you. 
 
 One was, never to frighten an animal for sport. I recol 
 lect I had a little white kitten, of which I was very fond, 
 and one day I was amusing myself with making her walk 
 up and down the key-board of the piano, and laughing to 
 see her fright at the strange noises which came up under 
 her feet. Puss evidently thought the place was haunted, 
 and tried to escape ; it never occurred to me, however, that 
 there was any cruelty in the operation, till Aunt Esther 
 said to me, " My dear, you must never frighten an animal. 
 I have suffered enough from fear to know that there is no 
 suffering more dreadful ; and a helpless animal, that cannot 
 speak to tell its fright, and cannot understand an explana 
 tion of what alarms it, ought to move your pity." 
 
 I had never thought of this before, and then I remem- 
 
AUNT ESTHER S RULES 111 
 
 bered how, when I was a very, very little girl, a grown-up 
 boy in school had amused himself with me and my little 
 brother in much the same way as that in which I had 
 amused myself with the kitten. He hunted us under one 
 of the school-room tables by threatening to cut our ears 
 off if we came out, and took out his pen-knife, and opened 
 it, and shook it at us whenever we offered to move. Very 
 likely he had not the least idea that we really could be 
 made to suffer with fear at so absurd a threat, any more 
 than I had that my kitten could possibly be afraid of the 
 piano ; but our suffering was in fact as real as if the boy 
 really had intended what he said, and was really able to 
 execute it. 
 
 Another thing which Aunt Esther strongly impressed on 
 my mind was that, when there were domestic animals 
 about a house which were not wanted in a family, it was far 
 kinder to have them killed in some quick and certain way 
 than to chase them out of the house, and leave them to 
 wander homeless, to be starved, beaten, and abused. Aunt 
 Esther was a great advocate for killing animals, and, tender 
 hearted as she was, she gave us many instructions in the 
 kindest and quickest way of disposing of one whose life 
 must be sacrificed. 
 
 Her instructions sometimes bore most remarkable fruits. 
 I recollect one little girl, who had been trained under Aunt 
 Esther s care, was once coming home from school across 
 Boston Common, when she saw a party of noisy boys and 
 dogs tormenting a poor kitten by the side of the frog pond. 
 The little wretches would throw it into the water, and then 
 laugh at its vain and frightened efforts to paddle out, while 
 the dogs added to its fright by their ferocious barking. 
 Belle was a bright-eyed, spirited little puss, and her whole 
 soul was roused in indignation ; she dashed in among the 
 throng of boys and dogs, and rescued the poor half-drowned 
 little animal. The boys, ashamed, slunk away, and little 
 
112 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 Belle held the poor, cold, shivering little creature, consider 
 ing what to do for it. It was half dead already, and she 
 was embarrassed by the reflection that at home there was 
 no room for another pet, for both cat and kitten never 
 were wanting in their family. " Poor kit, 7 she said, " you 
 must die, but I will see that you are not tormented ; " 
 and she knelt bravely down and held the little thing under 
 water, with the tears running down her own cheeks, till all 
 its earthly sorrows were over, and little kit was beyond the 
 reach of dog or boy. 
 
 This was real brave humanity. Many people call them 
 selves tender-hearted, because they are unwilling to have a 
 litter of kittens killed, and so they go and throw them over 
 fences, into people s back yards, and comfort themselves 
 with the reflection that they will do well enough. What 
 becomes of the poor little defenseless things ? In nine 
 cases out of ten they live a hunted, miserable life, crying 
 from hunger, shivering with cold, harassed by cruel dogs, 
 and tortured to make sport for brutal boys. How much 
 kinder and more really humane to take upon ourselves the 
 momentary suffering of causing the death of an animal than 
 to turn our back and leave it to drag out a life of torture 
 and misery ! 
 
 Aunt Esther used to protest much against another kind 
 of torture which well-meaning persons inflict on animals, in 
 giving them as playthings to very little children who do 
 not know how to handle them. A mother sometimes will 
 sit quietly sewing, while her baby boy is tormenting a help 
 less kitten, poking his fingers into its eyes, pulling its tail, 
 stretching it out as on a rack, squeezing its feet, and, when 
 the poor little tormented thing tries to run away, will send 
 the nurse to catch dear little Johnny s kitten for him. 
 
 Aunt Esther always remonstrated, too, against all the 
 practical jokes and teasing of animals, which many people 
 practice under the name of sport, like throwing a dog 
 
AUNT ESTHER S RULES 113 
 
 into the water for the sake of seeing him paddle out, dash 
 ing water upon the cat, or doing any of the many little 
 tricks by which animals are made uncomfortable. " They 
 have but one short little life to live, they are dumb and 
 cannot complain, and they are wholly in our power " 
 these were the motives by which she appealed to our gen 
 erosity. 
 
 Aunt Esther s boys were so well trained that they would 
 fight valiantly for the rescue of any ill-treated animals. 
 Little Master Bill was a bright-eyed fellow, who was n t 
 much taller than his father s knee, and wore a low-necked 
 dress with white ruffles. But Bill had a brave heart in his 
 little body, and so one day, as he was coming from school, 
 he dashed in among a crowd of dogs which were pursuing a 
 kitten, took it away from them, and held it as high above 
 his head as his little arm could reach. The dogs jumped 
 upon his white neck with their rough paws, and scratched 
 his face, but still he stood steady till a man came up and 
 took the kitten and frightened away the dogs. Master Bill 
 grew up to be a man, and at the battle of Gettysburg stood 
 a three days fight, and resisted the charge of the Louisiana 
 Tigers as of old he withstood the charge of the dogs. A 
 really brave-hearted fellow is generally tender and compas 
 sionate to the weak ; only cowards torment that which is 
 not strong enough to fight them ; only cowards starve help 
 less prisoners or torture helpless animals. 
 
 I can t help hoping that, in these stories about different 
 pets, I have made some friends among the boys, and that 
 they will remember what I have said, and resolve always 
 to defend the weak, and not permit any cruelty where it is 
 in their power to prevent it. Boys, you are strong and 
 brave little fellows ; but you ought n t to be strong and 
 brave for nothing ; and if every boy about the street would 
 set himself to defending helpless animals, we should see 
 much less cruelty than we now do. 
 
AUNT ESTHER S STOEIES 
 
 AUNT ESTHER used to be a constant attendant upon us 
 young ones whenever we were a little ill, or any of the 
 numerous accidents of childhood overtook us. In such 
 seasons of adversity she always came to sit by our bedside, 
 and take care of us. She did not, as some people do, bring 
 a long face and a doleful whining voice into a sick-room, 
 but was always so bright, and cheerful, and chatty, that we 
 began to think it was almost worth while to be sick to have 
 her about us. I remember that once, when I had the quinsy, 
 and my throat was so swollen that it brought the tears every 
 time I swallowed, Aunt Esther talked to me so gayly, and 
 told me so many stories, that I found myself laughing 
 heartily, and disposed to regard my aching throat as on the 
 whole rather an amusing circumstance. 
 
 Aunt Esther s stories were not generally fairy tales, but 
 stories about real things, and more often on her favorite 
 subject of the habits of animals, and the different animals 
 she had known, than about anything else. 
 
 One of these was a famous Newfoundland dog, named 
 Prince, which belonged to an uncle of hers in the country, 
 and was, as we thought, a far more useful and faithful 
 member of society than many of us youngsters. Prince 
 used to be a grave, sedate dog, that considered himself put 
 in trust of the farm, the house, the cattle, and all that was 
 on the place. At night he slept before the kitchen door, 
 which, like all other doors in the house in those innocent 
 days, was left unlocked all night ; and if such a thing had 
 ever happened as that a tramp or an improper person of 
 
AUNT ESTHER S STORIES 115 
 
 any kind had even touched the latch of the door, Prince 
 would have been up attending to him as master of cere 
 monies. 
 
 At early dawn, when the family began to stir, Prince 
 was up and out to superintend the milking of the cows, 
 after which he gathered them all together, and started out 
 with them to pasture, padding steadily along behind, dash 
 ing out once in a while to reclaim some wanderer that 
 thoughtlessly began to make her breakfast by the roadside, 
 instead of saving her appetite for the pastures, as a prop 
 erly behaved cow should. Arrived at the pasture-lot, 
 Prince would take down the bars with his teeth, drive in 
 the cows, put up bars, and then soberly turn tail and pad 
 off home, and carry the dinner-basket for the men to the 
 mowing lot, or the potato-field, or wherever the labors of 
 the day might be. There arrived, he was extremely useful 
 to send on errands after anything forgotten or missing. 
 " Prince ! the rake is missing : go to the barn and fetch 
 it ! " and away Prince would go, and come back with his 
 head very high, and the long rake very judiciously bal 
 anced in his mouth. 
 
 One day a friend was wondering at the sagacity of the 
 dog, and his master thought he would show off his tricks 
 in a still more original style ; and so, calling Prince to 
 him, he said, " Go home and bring Puss to me ! " 
 
 Away bounded Prince towards the farm-house, and, look 
 ing about, found the younger of the two cats, fair Mistress 
 Daisy, busy cleaning her white velvet in the summer sun. 
 Prince took her gently up by the nape of her neck, and 
 carried her, hanging head and heels together, to the fields, 
 and laid her down at his master s feet. 
 
 " How s this, Prince ? " said the master ; " you did n t 
 understand me. I said the cat, and this is the kitten. Go 
 right back and bring the old cat." 
 
 Prince looked very much ashamed of his mistake, and 
 
116 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 turned away, with, drooping ears and tail, and went back 
 to the house. 
 
 The old cat was a venerable, somewhat portly old dame, 
 and no small lift for Prince ; but he reappeared with old 
 Puss hanging from his jaws, and set her down, a little dis 
 composed, but not a whit hurt by her unexpected ride. 
 
 Sometimes, to try Prince s skill, his master would hide 
 his gloves or riding-whip in some out-of-the-way corner 
 and when ready to start, would say, " Now, where have I 
 left my gloves ? Prince, good fellow, run in, and find 
 them ; " and Prince would dash into the house, and run 
 hither and thither with his nose to every nook and corner 
 of the room ; and, no matter how artfully they were hid, 
 he would upset and tear his way to them. He would turn 
 up the corners of the carpet, snuff about the bed, run his 
 nose between the feather-bed and mattress, pry into the 
 crack of a half-opened drawer, and show as much zeal and 
 ingenuity as a policeman, and seldom could anything be so 
 hid as to baffle his perseverance. 
 
 Many people laugh at the idea of being careful of a 
 dog s feelings, as if it were the height of absurdity ; and 
 yet it is a fact that some dogs are as exquisitely sensitive 
 to pain, shame, and mortification, as any human being. 
 See, when a dog is spoken harshly to, what a universal 
 droop seems to come over him. His head and ears sink, 
 his tail drops and slinks between his legs, and his whole 
 air seems to say, " I wish I could sink into the earth to 
 hide myself." 
 
 Prince s young master, without knowing it, was the 
 means of inflicting a most terrible mortification on him at 
 one time. It was very hot weather, and Prince, being a 
 shaggy dog, lay panting, and lolling his tongue out, appar 
 ently suffering from the heat. 
 
 " I declare," said young Master George, f< I do believe 
 Prince would be more comfortable for being sheared." 
 
AUNT ESTHER S STOEIES 117 
 
 And so forthwith he took him and began divesting him of 
 his coat. Prince took it all very obediently ; but when he 
 appeared without his usual attire, every one saluted him 
 with roars of laughter, and Prince was dreadfully mortified. 
 He broke away from his master, and scampered off home at 
 a desperate pace, ran down cellar, and disappeared from 
 view. His young master was quite distressed that Prince 
 took the matter so to heart ; he followed him in vain, call 
 ing, " Prince ! Prince ! " No Prince appeared. He lighted 
 a candle and searched the cellar, and found the poor crea 
 ture cowering away in the darkest nook under the stairs. 
 Prince was not to be comforted : he slunk deeper and 
 deeper into the darkness, and crouched on the ground 
 when he saw his master, and for a long time refused even 
 to take food. The family all visited and condoled with 
 him, and finally his sorrows were somewhat abated; but 
 he would not be persuaded to leave the cellar for nearly a 
 week. Perhaps by that time he indulged the hope that 
 his hair was beginning to grow again, and all were careful 
 not to destroy the illusion by any jests or comments on 
 his appearance. 
 
 Such were some of the stories of Prince s talents and ex 
 ploits which Aunt Esther used to relate to us. What 
 finally became of the old fellow we never heard. Let us 
 hope that, as he grew old, and gradually lost his strength, 
 and felt the infirmities of age creeping on, he was tenderly 
 and kindly cared for in memory of the services of his best 
 days, that he had a warm corner by the kitchen fire, 
 and was daily spoken to in kindly tones by his / Id friends. 
 Nothing is a sadder sight than to see a poor old favorite, 
 that once was petted and caressed by every member of the 
 family, now sneaking and cowering as if dreading every 
 moment a kick or a blow, turned from the parlor into 
 the kitchen, driven from the kitchen by the cook s broom 
 stick, half starved and lonesome. 
 
118 QUEEK LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 O how much kinder if the poor thread of life were at 
 once cut by some pistol-shot, than to have the neglected 
 favorite linger only to suffer ! Now, boys, I put it to you, 
 is it generous or manly, when your old pet and playmate 
 grows sickly and feeble, and can no longer amuse you, to 
 forget all the good old times you have had with him, and 
 let him become a poor, trembling, hungry, abused vagrant ? 
 If you cannot provide comforts for his old age, and see to 
 his nursing, you can at least secure him an easy and pain 
 less passage from this troublesome world. A manly fellow 
 I once knew, who, when his old hound became so diseased 
 that he only lived to suffer, gave him a nice meal with his 
 own hand, patted his head, got him to sleep, and then shot 
 him, so that he was dead in a moment, felt no pain, and 
 knew nothing but kindness to the last. 
 
 And now to Aunt Esther s stories of a dog I must add 
 one more which occurred in a town where I once lived. I 
 have told you of the fine traits of blood-dogs, their sagacity 
 and affection. In doing this, perhaps, I have not done half 
 justice to the poor common dogs, of no particular blood or 
 breed, that are called curs or mongrels ; yet among these 
 I believe you will quite as often find both affection and 
 sagacity as among better-born dogs. 
 
 The poor mongrel I am going to tell you about belonged 
 to a man who had not, in one respect, half the sense that 
 his dog had. A dog will never eat or drink a thing that 
 has once made him sick, or injured him ; but this man 
 would drink, time and time again, a deadly draught, that 
 took away his senses and unfitted him for any of his du 
 ties. Poor little Pero, however, set her ignorant dog s heart 
 on her drinking master, and used to patter faithfully after 
 him, and lick his hand respectfully, when nobody else 
 thought he was in a condition to be treated with respect. 
 
 One bitter cold winter day, Pero s master went to a gro 
 cery, at some distance from home, on pretence of getting 
 
AUNT ESTHER S STORIES 119 
 
 groceries, but in reality to fill a very dreadful bottle, that 
 was the cause of all his misery ; and little Pero padded 
 after him through the whirling snow, although she left 
 three poor little pups of her own in the barn. Was it that 
 she was anxious for the poor man who was going the bad 
 road, or was there some secret thing in her dog s heart that 
 warned her that her master was in danger ? We know 
 not, but the sad fact is, that at the grocery the poor man 
 took enough to make his brain dizzy, and coming home he 
 lost his way in a whirling snow-storm, and fell down stupid 
 and drunk, not far from his own barn, in a lonesome place, 
 with the cold winter s wind sweeping the snow-drift over 
 him. Poor little Pero cuddled close to her master and 
 nestled in his bosom, as if trying to keep the warm life in 
 him. 
 
 Two or three days passed, and nothing was seen or heard 
 of the poor man. The snow had drifted over him in a long 
 white winding-sheet, when a neighbor one day heard a dog 
 in the barn crying to get out. It was poor Pero, that had 
 come back and slipped in to nurse her puppies while the 
 barn-door was open, and was now crying to get out and go 
 back to her poor master. It suddenly occurred to the man 
 that Pero might find the body, and in fact, when she 
 started off, he saw a little path which her small paws had 
 worn in the snow, and, tracking after, found the frozen 
 body. This poor little friend had nestled the snow away 
 around the breast, and stayed watching and waiting by her 
 dead master, only taking her way back occasionally to the 
 barn to nurse her little ones. I cannot help asking 
 whether a little animal that can show such love and faith 
 fulness has not something worth respecting and caring for 
 in its nature. 
 
 At this time of the year our city ordinances proclaim a 
 general leave and license to take the lives of all dogs found 
 in the streets, and scenes of dreadful cruelty are often en- 
 
120 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 acted in consequence. I hope, if my stories fall under the 
 eye of any boy who may ever witness, or be tempted to take 
 part in, the hunting down and killing a poor dog, that he 
 will remember of how much faithfulness and affection and 
 constancy these poor brutes are capable, and, instead of be 
 ing their tyrant and persecutor, will try to make himself 
 their protector and friend. 
 
SIE WALTEE SCOTT AND HIS DOGS 
 
 MASTER FREDERICK LITTLE- JOHN has of late struck up 
 quite a friendship with me, and haunts my footsteps about 
 the house to remind me of my promise to write some more 
 dog stories. Master Fred has just received a present from 
 his father of a great Newfoundland that stands a good deal 
 higher in his stocking-feet than his little master in his 
 highest-heeled boots, and he has named him Prince, in 
 honor of the Prince that I told you about last month, that 
 used to drive the cows to pasture, and take down the bars 
 with his teeth. We have daily and hourly accounts in the 
 family circle of Prince s sayings and doings ; for Master 
 Freddy insists upon it that Prince speaks, and daily insists 
 upon placing a piece of bread on the top of Prince s nose, 
 which at the word of command he fires into the air, and 
 catches in his mouth, closing the performance with a snap 
 like a rifle. Fred also makes much of showing him a bit 
 of meat held high in the air, for which he is requested to 
 " speak, the speaking consisting in very short exclama 
 tions of the deepest bow-wow. Certain it is that Prince 
 shows on these occasions that he has the voice for a public 
 speaker, and that, if he does not go about the country 
 lecturing, it is because he wants time yet to make up his 
 mind what to say on the topics of the day. 
 
 Fred is somewhat puzzled to make good the ground of 
 his favorite with Aunt Zeroiah, who does not love dogs, 
 and is constantly casting reflections on them as nuisances, 
 dirt-makers, flea-catchers, and flea-scatterers, and insinuating 
 a plea that Prince should be given away, or in some manner 
 sold or otherwise disposed of. 
 
122 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 " Aunt Zeroiah thinks that there is nothing so mean as a 
 dog/ 7 said Master Fred to me as he sat with his arm around 
 the neck of his favorite. " She really seems to grudge 
 every morsel of meat a dog eats, and to think that every 
 kindness you show a dog is almost a sin. Now I think 
 dogs are noble creatures, and have noble feelings, they 
 are so faithful, and so kind and loving. Now I do wish 
 you would make haste and write something to show her that 
 dogs have been thought a good deal of. 77 
 
 " Well, Master Freddy, 7 said I, "I will tell you in the 
 first place about Sir Walter Scott, whose poems and novels 
 have been the delight of whole generations. 77 
 
 He was just of your opinion about dogs, and he had a 
 great many of them. When Washington Irving visited 
 Sir Walter at Abbotsford, he found him surrounded by his 
 dogs, which formed as much a part of the family as his 
 children. 
 
 In the morning, when they started for a ramble, the 
 dogs would all be on the alert to join them. There was 
 first a tall old staghound named Maida, that considered 
 himself the confidential friend of his master, walked by his 
 side, and looked into his eyes as if asserting a partnership 
 in his thoughts. Then there was a black greyhound 
 named Hamlet, a more frisky and thoughtless youth, that 
 gamboled and pranced and barked and cut capers with the 
 wildest glee ; and there was a beautiful setter named 
 Finette, with large mild eyes, soft silken hair, and long 
 curly ears, the favorite of the parlor ; and then a vener 
 able old greyhound, wagging his tail, came out to join the 
 party as he saw them going by his quarters, and was cheered 
 by Scott with a hearty, kind word as an old friend and 
 comrade. 
 
 In his walks Scott would often stop and talk to one or 
 another of his four-footed friends, as if they were in fact 
 rational companions ; and, from being talked to and treated 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS 123 
 
 in this way, they really seemed to acquire more sagacity 
 than other dogs. 
 
 Old Maida seemed to consider himself as a sort of pres 
 ident of the younger dogs, as a dog of years and reflection, 
 whose mind was upon more serious and weighty topics than 
 theirs. As he padded along, the younger dogs would some 
 times try to ensnare him into a frolic, by jumping upon his 
 neck and making a snap at his ears. Old Maida would 
 bear this in silent dignity for a while, and then suddenly, 
 as if his patience were exhausted, he would catch one of 
 his tormentors by the neck and tumble him in the dirt, 
 giving an apologetic look to his master at the same time, 
 as much as to say, " You see, sir, I can t help joining a 
 little in this nonsense." 
 
 " Ah," said Scott, " I ve no doubt that, when Maida is 
 alone with these young dogs, he throws dignity aside and 
 plays the boy as much as any of them, but he is ashamed 
 to do it in our company, and seems to say, ( Have done 
 with your nonsense, youngsters ; what will the Laird and 
 that other gentleman think of me if I give way to such 
 foolery? " 
 
 At length the younger dogs fancied that they discovered 
 something, which set them all into a furious barking. Old 
 Maida for some time walked silently by his master, pre 
 tending not to notice the clamors of the inferior dogs. At 
 last, however, he seemed to feel himself called on to attend 
 to them, and giving a plunge forward he opened his mind 
 to them, with a deep " Bow-wow," that drowned for the 
 time all other voices. Then, as if he had settled matters, 
 he returned to his master, wagging his tail, and looking in 
 his face as if for approval. 
 
 " Ay, a\y, old boy," said Scott ; " you have done won 
 ders ; you have shaken the Eildon Hills with your roaring, 
 and now you may shut up your artillery for the rest of the 
 day. Maida," he said, " is like the big gun of Constanti- 
 
124 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 nople, it takes so long to get it ready that the small ones 
 can fire off a dozen times, but when it does go off it carries 
 all before it." 
 
 Scott s four-footed friends made a respectful part of the 
 company at family meals. Old Maida took his seat gravely 
 at his master s elbow, looking up wistfully into his eyes, 
 while Finette, the pet spaniel, took her seat by Mrs. Scott. 
 Besides the dogs in attendance, a large gray cat also took 
 her seat near her master, and was presented from time to 
 time with bits from the table. Puss, it appears, was a 
 great favorite both with master and mistress, and slept in 
 their room at night ; and Scott laughingly said that one of 
 the least wise parts of the family arrangement was the 
 leaving the window open at night for puss to go in and 
 out. The cat assumed a sort of supremacy among the 
 quadrupeds, sitting in state in Scott s arm-chair, and occa 
 sionally stationing himself on a chair beside the door, as if 
 to review his subjects as they passed, giving each dog a 
 cuff on the ears as he went by. This clapper-clawing was 
 always amiably taken. It appeared to be in fact a mere 
 act of sovereignty on the part of Grimalkin, to remind the 
 others of their vassalage, to which they cheerfully submitted. 
 Perfect harmony prevailed between old puss and her sub 
 jects, and they would all sleep contentedly together in the 
 sunshine. 
 
 Scott once said, the only trouble about having a dog was 
 that he must die ; but he said it was better to have them 
 die in eight or nine years than to go on loving them for 
 twenty or thirty, and then have them die. 
 
 Scott lived to lose many of his favorites, that were 
 buried with funeral honors, and had monuments erected 
 over them, which form some of the prettiest ornaments of 
 Abbotsford. When we visited the place, one of the first 
 objects we saw in the front yard near the door was the 
 tomb of old Maida, over which is sculptured the image of a 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS 125 
 
 beautiful hound, with this inscription, which you may 
 translate if you like : 
 
 " Maidse marmorea dormis sub imagine, 
 Maida, 
 Ad januam domini ; sit tibi terra levis." 
 
 Or, if you don t want the trouble of translating it, Mas 
 ter Freddy, I would do it thus : 
 
 "At thy lord s door, in slumbers light and blest, 
 Maida, beneath this marble Maida rest. 
 Light lie the turf upon thy gentle breast." 
 
 Washington Irving says that in one of his morning ram 
 bles he came upon a curious old Gothic monument, on 
 which was inscribed in Gothic characters, 
 
 " Cy git le preux Percy," 
 (Here lies the brave Percy,) 
 
 and asking Scott what it was, he replied, " Oh, only one of 
 my fooleries," and afterwards Irving found it was the 
 grave of a favorite greyhound. 
 
 Now, certainly, Master Freddy, you must see in all this 
 that you have one of the greatest geniuses of the world to 
 bear you out in thinking a deal of dogs. 
 
 But I have still another instance. The great rival poet 
 to Scott was Lord Byron ; not so good or so wise a man 
 by many degrees, but very celebrated in his day. He also 
 had a four-footed friend, a Newfoundland, called Boatswain, 
 which he loved tenderly, and whose elegant monument now 
 forms one of the principal ornaments of the garden of New- 
 stead Abbey, and upon it may be read this inscription : 
 
 "Near this spot 
 
 Are deposited the remains of one 
 Who possessed beauty without vanity, 
 Strength without insolence, 
 Courage without ferocity, 
 And all the virtues of man without his vices. 
 This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery 
 
 If inscribed over human ashes, 
 Is but a just tribute to the memory of 
 BOATSWAIN, a dog, 
 
126 QTJEEK LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, 
 And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808." 
 
 On the other side of the monument the poet inscribed 
 these lines in praise of dogs in general, which I would 
 recommend you to show to any of the despisers of dogs : 
 
 " When some proud son of man returns to earth 
 Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 
 The sculptor s art exhausts the pomp of woe, 
 And storied urns record who rests below. 
 But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, 
 The first to welcome, foremost to defend, 
 Whose honest heart is still his master s own, 
 Who labors, fights, lives, breathes, for him alone, 
 Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth, 
 Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth. 
 While man, vain insect ! hopes to be forgiven, 
 And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven ! 
 Ye who perchance behold this simple urn, 
 Pass on, it honors none you wish to mourn. 
 To mark a, friend s remains these stones arise ; 
 I never knew but one, and here he lies." 
 
 If you want more evidence of the high esteem in which 
 dogs are held, I might recommend to you a very pretty dog 
 story called " Bab and his Friends," the reading of which 
 will give you a pleasant hour. Also in a book called 
 " Spare Hours " the author of "Rab and his Friends" gives 
 amusing accounts of all his different dogs, which I am sure 
 you would be pleased to read, even though you find many 
 long words in it which you cannot understand. 
 
 But enough has been given to show you that in the high 
 esteem you have for your favorite, and in your determina 
 tion to treat him as a dog should be treated, you are sus 
 tained by the very best authority. 
 
COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 
 
 Do my dear little friends want to hear a word more 
 about our country neighbors ? Since we wrote about them, 
 we have lived in the same place more than a year, and 
 perhaps some of you may want to know whether old Unke 
 or little Cri-cri have ever come up to sit under the lily- 
 leaves by the fountain, or Master Furry-toes, the flying 
 squirrel, has amused himself in pattering about the young 
 lady s chamber o nights ? I am sorry to say that our 
 country neighbors have entirely lost the neighborly, con 
 fiding spirit that they had when we first came and settled 
 in the woods. 
 
 Old Unke has distinguished himself on moonlight nights 
 in performing bass solos in a very deep, heavy voice, down 
 in the river, but he has never hopped his way back into 
 that conservatory from which he was disgracefully turned 
 out at the point of Mr. Fred s cane. He has contented 
 himself with the heavy musical performances I spoke of, 
 and I have fancied they sounded much like " Won t come 
 any more, won t come any more, won t come any 
 more ! " 
 
 Sometimes, strolling down to the river, we have seen his 
 solemn yellow spectacles emerging from the tall water-gras 
 ses, as he sat complacently looking about him. Near by 
 him, spread out on the sunny bottom of the pool, was a large 
 flat-headed water-snake, with a dull yellow-brown back and 
 such a swelled stomach that it was quite evident he had 
 been making his breakfast that morning by swallowing some 
 unfortunate neighbor like poor little Cri-cri. This trick of 
 
128 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 swallowing one s lesser neighbors seems to prevail greatly 
 among the people who live in our river. Mr. Water-snake 
 makes his meal on little Mr. Frog, and little Mr. Bullfrog 
 follows the same example. It seems a sad state of things ; 
 but then I suppose all animals have to die in some way or 
 other, and perhaps, if they are in the habit of seeing it 
 done, it may appear no more to a frog to expect to be swal 
 lowed some day, than it may to some of us to die of a 
 fever, or be shot in battle, as many a brave fellow has been 
 of late. 
 
 We have heard not a word from the woodchucks. Ever 
 since we violated the laws of woodland hospitality by set 
 ting a trap for their poor old patriarch, they have very 
 justly considered us as bad neighbors, and their hole at the 
 bottom of the garden has been " to let," and nobody as yet 
 has ventured to take it. Our friends the muskrats have 
 been nourishing, and on moonlight nights have been swim 
 ming about, popping up the tips of their little black noses 
 to make observations. 
 
 But latterly a great commotion has been made among the 
 amphibious tribes, because of the letting down of the dam 
 which kept up the water of the river, and made it a good, 
 full, wide river. When the dam was torn down it became 
 a little miserable stream, flowing through a wide field of 
 muddy bottom, and all the secrets of the underwater were 
 disclosed. The white and yellow water-lily roots were left 
 high and dry up in the mud, and all the musk-rat holes 
 could be seen plainer than ever before ; and the other day 
 Master Charley brought in a fish s nest which he had found 
 in what used to be deep water. 
 
 "A fish s nest ! " says little Tom ; " I did n t know fishes 
 made nests." But they do, Tommy ; that is, one particular 
 kind of fish makes a nest of sticks and straws and twigs 
 plastered together with some kind of cement, the making 
 of which is a family secret. It lies on the ground like a 
 
COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 129 
 
 common bird s nest turned bottom upward, and has a tiny 
 little hole in the side for a door, through which the little 
 fishes swim in and out. 
 
 The name of the kind of fish that builds this nest I do 
 not know ; and if the water had not been drawn off, I 
 should not have known that we had any such fish in our 
 river. Where we found ours the water had been about 
 five feet above it. Now, Master Tom, if you want to know 
 more about nest-building fishes, you must get your papa and 
 mamma to inquire and see if they cannot get you some of 
 the little books on fishes and aquariums that have been 
 published lately. I remember to have read all about these 
 nests in one of them, but I do not remember either the name 
 of the book or the name of the fish, and so there is some 
 thing still for you to inquire after. 
 
 I am happy to say, for the interest of the water-lilies 
 and the muskrats and the fishes, that the dam has only 
 been torn down from our river for the purpose of making a 
 new and stronger one, and that by and by the water will 
 be again broad and deep as before, and all the water-people 
 can then go on with their housekeeping just as they used to 
 do, only I am sorry to say that one fish family will miss 
 their house, and have to build a new one ; but if they are 
 enterprising fishes they will perhaps make some improve 
 ments that will make the new house better than the old. 
 
 As to the birds, we have had a great many visits from 
 them. Our house has so many great glass windows, and 
 the conservatory windows in the centre of it being always 
 wide open, the birds seem to have taken it for a piece of 
 outdoors, and flown in. The difficulty has been, that after 
 they had got in, there appeared to be no way of making 
 them understand the nature of glass, and wherever they saw 
 a glass window they fancied they could fly through ; and 
 so, taking aim hither and thither, they darted head first 
 against the glass, beating and bruising their poor little 
 
130 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 heads without beating in any more knowledge than they 
 had before. Many a poor little feather-head has thus fallen 
 a victim to his want of natural philosophy, and tired him 
 self out with beating against window-panes, till he has at 
 last fallen dead. One day we picked up no less than three 
 dead birds in different parts of the house. Now if it had 
 only been possible to enlighten our feathered friends in 
 regard to the fact that everything that is transparent is not 
 air, we would have summoned a bird council in our con 
 servatory, and explained matters to them at once and alto 
 gether. As it is, we could only say, " Oh ! " and " Ah ! " 
 and lament, as we have followed one poor victim after 
 another from window to window, and seen him flutter and 
 beat his pretty senseless head against the glass, frightened 
 to death at all our attempts to help him. 
 
 As to the humming-birds, their number has been infinite. 
 Just back of the conservatory stands an immense, high 
 clump of scarlet sage, whose brilliant flowers have been like 
 a light shining from afar, and drawn to it flocks of these 
 little creatures ; and we have often sat watching them as 
 they put their long bills into one scarlet tube after another, 
 lifting themselves lightly off the bush, poising a moment in 
 mid-air, and then dropping out of sight. 
 
 They have flown into the conservatory in such numbers 
 that, had we wished to act over again the dear little history 
 of our lost pet, Hum, the son of Buz, we should have had 
 plenty of opportunities to do it. Humming-birds have been 
 for some reason supposed to be peculiarly wild and untam 
 able. Our experience has proved that they are the most 
 disposed to put trust in us human beings of all birds in the 
 world. 
 
 More than once this summer has some little captive 
 exhausted his strength flying hither and thither against the 
 great roof window of the conservatory, till the whole family 
 was in alarm to help. The Professor himself has left his 
 
COUNTKY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 131 
 
 books, and anxiously flourished a long cobweb broom in 
 hopes to bring the little wanderer down to the level of open 
 windows, while every other member of the family ran, 
 called, made suggestions, and gave advice, which all ended 
 in the poor little fool s falling flat, in a state of utter 
 exhaustion, and being picked up in some lady s pocket 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Then has been running to mix sugar and water, while 
 the little crumb of a bird has lain in an apparent swoon in 
 the small palm of some fair hand, but opening occasionally 
 one eye, and then the other, dreamily, to see when the 
 sugar and water was coming, and gradually showing more 
 and more signs of returning life as it appeared. Even when 
 he had taken his drink of sugar and water, and seemed able 
 to sit up in his warm little hollow, he has seemed in no 
 hurry to flee, but remained tranquilly looking about him 
 for some moments, till all of a sudden, with one whirr, 
 away he goes, like a flying morsel of green and gold, over 
 our heads into the air into the treetops. What a 
 lovely time he must have of it ! 
 
 One rainy, windy day, Miss Jenny, going into the con 
 servatory, heard a plaintive little squeak, and found a poor 
 humming-bird, just as we found poor little Hum, all 
 wet and chilled, and bemoaning himself, as he sat clinging 
 tightly upon the slenderest twig of a grape-vine. She took 
 him off, wrapped him in cotton, and put him in a box on a 
 warm shelf over the kitchen range. After a while you may 
 be sure there was a pretty fluttering in the box. Master 
 Hum was awake and wanted to be attended to. She then 
 mixed sugar and water, and, opening the box, offered him 
 a drop on her finger, which he licked off with his long 
 tongue as knowingly as did his namesake at Eye Beach. 
 After letting him satisfy his appetite for sugar and water, 
 as the rain was over and the sun began to shine, Miss Jenny 
 took him to the door, and away he flew. 
 
132 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 These little incidents show that it would not ever be a 
 difficult matter to tame humming-birds, only they cannot 
 be kept in cages ; a sunny room with windows defended 
 by mosquito-netting would be the only proper cage. The 
 humming-bird, as we are told by naturalists, though very 
 fond of the honey of flowers, does not live on it entirely or 
 even principally. It is in fact a little fly -catcher, and lives 
 on small insects ; and a humming-bird never can be kept 
 healthy for any length of time in a room that does not ad 
 mit insects enough to furnish him a living. So you see it 
 is not merely toads, and water-snakes, and such homely 
 creatures, that live by eating other living beings, but 
 even the fairy-like and brilliant humming-bird. 
 
 The autumn months are now coming on (for it is Octo 
 ber while I write), the flowers are dying night by night 
 as the frosts grow heavier, the squirrels are racing about, 
 full of business, getting in their winter s supply of nuts ; 
 everything now is active and busy among our country neigh 
 bors. In a cottage about a quarter of a mile from us, a 
 whole family of squirrels have made the discovery that a 
 house is warmer in winter than the best hollow tree, and 
 so have gone into a chink between the wall, where Mr. 
 and Mrs. Squirrel can often be heard late at night chat 
 tering and making quite a family fuss about the arrange 
 ment of their household goods for the coming season. This 
 is all the news about the furry people that I have to 
 give you. The flying squirrel I have not yet heard from, 
 perhaps he will appear yet as the weather gets colder. 
 
 Old Master Boohoo, the owl, sometimes goes on at such 
 a rate on moonlight nights in the great chestnut-trees that 
 overhang the river, that, if you did not know better, you 
 might think yourself miles deep in the heart of a sombre 
 forest, instead of being within two squares walk of the 
 city lamps. We never yet have caught a fair sight of him. 
 At the cottage we speak of, the chestnut-trees are very 
 
COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 133 
 
 tall, and come close to the upper windows ; and one night 
 a fair maiden, going up to bed, was startled by a pair of 
 great round eyes looking into her window. It was one of 
 the Boohoo family, who had been taken with a fit of grave 
 curiosity about what went on inside the cottage, and so set 
 himself to observe. We have never been able to return the 
 compliment by looking into their housekeeping, as their 
 nests are very high up in the hollows of old trees, where 
 we should not be likely to get at them. 
 
 If we hear anything more from any of these neighbors 
 of ours, we will let you know. We have all the afternoon 
 been hearing a great screaming among the jays in the woods 
 hard by, and I think we must go out and see what is the 
 matter. So good-by. 
 
THE DIVEETING HISTOKY OF LITTLE 
 WHISKEY 
 
 AND now, at the last, I am going to tell you something 
 of the ways and doings of one of the queer little people, 
 whom I shall call Whiskey. 
 
 You cannot imagine how pretty he is. His back has the 
 most beautiful smooth shining stripes of reddish brown and 
 black, his eyes shine like bright glass beads, and he sits up 
 jauntily on his hind quarters, with his little tail thrown 
 over his back like a ruffle ! 
 
 And where does he live ? Well, " that is telling," as 
 we children say. It was somewhere up in the mountains of 
 Berkshire, in a queer, quaint, old-fashioned garden, that I 
 made Mr. Whiskey s acquaintance. 
 
 Here there lives a young parson, who preaches every 
 Sunday in a little brown church, and during week-days 
 goes through all these hills and valleys, visiting the poor, 
 and gathering children into Sunday schools. 
 
 His wife is a very small-sized lady, not much bigger 
 than you, my little Mary, but very fond of all sorts of 
 dumb animals ; and by constantly watching their actions 
 and ways, she has come to have quite a strange power 
 over them, as I shall relate. 
 
 The little lady fixed her mind on Whiskey, and gave 
 him his name without consulting him upon the subject. 
 She admired his bright eyes, and resolved to cultivate his 
 acquaintance. 
 
 By constant watching, she discovered that he had a small 
 hole of his own in the grass-plot a few paces from her 
 
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY 135 
 
 back door. So she used to fill her pockets with hazel-nuts, 
 and go out and sit in the back porch, and make a little 
 noise, such as squirrels make to each other, to attract his 
 attention. 
 
 In a minute or two up would pop the little head with 
 the bright eyes, in the grass-plot, and Master Whiskey 
 would sit on his haunches and listen, with one small ear 
 cocked towards her. Then she would throw him a hazel- 
 nut, and he would slip instantly down into his hole again. 
 In a minute or two, however, his curiosity would get the 
 better of his prudence ; and she, sitting quiet, would see 
 the little brown-striped head slowly, slowly coming up 
 again, over the tiny green spikes of the grass-plot. Quick 
 as a flash he would dart at the nut, whisk it into a little 
 bag on one side of his jaws, which Madame Nature has 
 furnished him with for his provision-pouch, and down into 
 his hole again ! An ungrateful, suspicious little brute he 
 was too ; for though in this way he bagged and carried off 
 nut after nut, until the patient little woman had used up 
 a pound of hazel-nuts, still he seemed to have the same 
 wild fright at sight of her, and would whisk off and hide 
 himself in his hole the moment she appeared. In vain 
 she called, " Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey," in the most 
 flattering tones ; in vain she coaxed and cajoled. No, no ; 
 he was not to be caught napping. He had no objection to 
 accepting her nuts, as many as she chose to throw to him ; 
 but as to her taking any personal liberty with him, you 
 see, it was not to be thought of ! 
 
 But at last patience and perseverance began to have 
 their reward. Little Master Whiskey said to himself, 
 " Surely, this is a nice, kind lady, to take so much pains 
 to give me nuts ; she is certainly very considerate ; " and 
 with that he edged a little nearer and nearer every day, 
 until, quite to the delight of the small lady, he would 
 come and climb into her lap and seize the nuts, when she 
 
136 QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 rattled them there, and after that he seemed to make ex 
 ploring voyages all over her person. He would climb up 
 and sit on her shoulder ; he would mount and perch him 
 self on her head ; and, when she held a nut for him be 
 tween her teeth, would take it out of her mouth. 
 
 After a while he began to make tours of discovery in 
 the house. He would suddenly appear on the minister s 
 writing-table, when he was composing his Sunday sermon, 
 and sit cocking his little pert head at him, seeming to 
 wonder what he was about. But in all his explorations 
 he proved himself a true Yankee squirrel, having always a 
 shrewd eye on the main chance. If the parson dropped 
 a nut on the floor, down went Whiskey after it, and into 
 his provision-bag it went, and then he would look up as if 
 he expected another ; for he had a wallet on each side of 
 his jaws, and he always wanted both sides handsomely 
 filled before he made for his hole. So busy and active, 
 and always intent on this one object, was he, that before 
 long the little lady found he had made way with six 
 pounds of hazel-nuts. His general rule was to carry off 
 four nuts at a time, three being stuffed into the side- 
 pockets of his jaws, and the fourth held in his teeth. 
 When he had furnished himself in this way, he would 
 dart like lightning for his hole, and disappear in a mo 
 ment ; but in a short time up he would come, brisk and 
 wide-awake, and ready for the next supply. 
 
 Once a person who had the curiosity to dig open a chip 
 ping squirrel s hole found in it two quarts of buckwheat, 
 a quantity of grass-seed, nearly a peck of acorns, some 
 Indian corn, and a quart of walnuts ; a pretty handsome 
 supply for a squirrel s winter store-room, don t you think 
 so? 
 
 Whiskey learned in time to work for his living in many 
 artful ways that his young mistress devised. Sometimes 
 she would tie his nuts up in a paper package, which he 
 
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY 137 
 
 would attack with great energy, gnawing the strings, and 
 rustling the nuts out of the paper in wonderfully quick 
 time. Sometimes she would tie a nut to the end of a bit 
 of twine, and swing it backward and forward over his 
 head ; and, after a succession of spry jumps, he would 
 pounce upon it, and hang swinging on the twine, till he 
 had gnawed the nut away. 
 
 Another squirrel doubtless hearing of Whiskey s 
 good luck began to haunt the same yard ; but Whiskey 
 would by no means allow him to cultivate his young mis 
 tress s acquaintance. No indeed ! he evidently considered 
 that the institution would not support two. Sometimes 
 he would appear to be conversing with the stranger on the 
 most familiar and amicable terms in the back yard : but if 
 his mistress called his name, he would immediately start 
 and chase his companion quite out of sight, before he came 
 back to her. 
 
 So you see that self-seeking is not confined to men alone, 
 and that Whiskey s fine little fur coat covers a very selfish 
 heart. 
 
 As winter comes on, Whiskey will go down into his 
 hole, which has many long galleries and winding passages, 
 and a snug little bedroom well lined with leaves. Here 
 he will doze and dream away his long winter months, and 
 nibble out the inside of his store of nuts. 
 
 If I hear any more of his cunning tricks, I will tell you 
 of them. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 TO 
 
 MARY, EMILY, NELLIE, AND CHARLOTTE, 
 
 AND ALL MY LITTLE GIRL FRIENDS. 
 
 Here is PUSSY WILLOW in a book, just as I have promised you 
 she should be. I send her to you as a Christmas and New 
 Year s present, and I hope that you will all grow up to be nice 
 good girls like her, with bright, healthy faces, and cheerful 
 hearts, and the gift of always seeing 
 
 W&t Briflfjt &ito 
 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 H. B. STOWE. 
 
 IN a retired town of New England was a certain little 
 green hollow among high hills ; and in this little hollow 
 stood an old brown farm-house. It was built two stories 
 high in front, but the roof sloped a long way down behind, 
 till it came so near the ground that any one of you might 
 have jumped off from it without frightening the most anx 
 ious mamma. 
 
 As I have said, this house stood in a little hollow formed 
 by ever so many high hills, which rose around it much as 
 waves rise around a little boat in stormy weather ; they 
 looked, in fact, like green waves that had been suddenly 
 
140 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 stopped and hardened into mountains and hills. Upon 
 their sides grew forests of pines, besides chestnut, hickory, 
 ash, and maple-trees, which gave them a charming variety 
 through most of the months of the year. The rocks, too, 
 in many places were perfectly veiled and covered with the 
 bright, glossy green leaves of the rose-laurel, while under 
 neath the crevices were full of fern, saxifrage, rock-col 
 umbine, and all sorts of lovely things, which were most 
 charming to explore, if one had energy enough to hunt 
 them up. 
 
 The house had no yard round it, but stood on a smooth 
 green turfy knoll, and was shaded by a great elm-tree, whose 
 long branches arched over, and seemed like a broad, leafy 
 sky. In summer this was pleasant enough, for the morning 
 sun sent straight arrows of gold hither and thither between 
 the boughs and branches, and carried some of the greenness 
 as they went into the chambers of the old house, and at 
 night the moon and stars winked and twinkled, and made a 
 thousand pretty plays of light and shadow as they sent their 
 rays dancing over, under, and through the elm-boughs to 
 the little brown house. 
 
 It was somewhere about the first of March, I believe, 
 when there was quite a stir in the ground-floor bedroom of 
 this little brown house, because a very small young lady 
 had just made her appearance in this world, who was the 
 first daughter that had ever been given to John and Martha 
 Primrose ; and, of course, her coming was a great event. 
 Four of the most respectable old matrons in the vicinity 
 were solemnly taking tea and quince preserves in Martha s 
 bedroom, in honor of the great event which had just tran 
 spired, while a little bundle of flannel was carefully trotted 
 and tended in the lap of the oldest of them, who every now 
 and then opened the folds and peered in through her spec 
 tacles at a very red, sleepy little face that lay inside. 
 
 " Well," said Dame Toothacre, the eldest, " did I ever 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 141 
 
 know such a spell of warm weather as we had the last fort 
 night ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ma am Trowbridge, " it has fairly started 
 the huds. Look, that pussy willow by the window is quite 
 out." 
 
 " My Mary says she has seen a liverwort blossom/ said 
 Dame Toothacre ; " and I ve heard bluebirds these two 
 weeks, it 7 s a most uncommon season." 
 
 " If the warm weather holds on, Martha will have a good 
 getting-up," said Dame Johnson. " She s got as plump 
 and likely a little girl as I should want to see." 
 
 And so, after a time, night settled down in the bedroom, 
 and one after another of the good old gossips went home, 
 and the little bundle of flannel was tucked warmly into 
 bed, and Nurse Toothacre was snoring loudly on a cot-bed 
 in the corner, and the moon streamed through the willow- 
 bush by the window, and marked the shadow of all the 
 little pussy buds on it clearly on the white, clean floor, 
 when something happened that nobody must know of but 
 you and me, dear little folks ; and what it was I shall 
 relate. 
 
 There came in on the moonbeams a stream of fairy folk 
 and wood spirits, to see what they could do for the new 
 baby. You must know that everything that grows has its 
 spirit, and these spirits not only attend on their own plants, 
 but now and then do a good turn for mortals, as, when 
 plants have good and healing properties, they come to us by 
 the ministry of these plant spirits. 
 
 In the winter, when the plant seems dead, these spirits 
 dwell dormant under ground ; but the warm suns of spring 
 thaw them, and renew their strength, and out they come 
 happy and strong as ever. Now it was so early in March, 
 that, if there had not been a most uncommonly warm sea 
 son for a week or two past, there would not have been a 
 plant spirit stirring, and the new baby would have had to 
 
142 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 go without the gifts and graces which they bring. As it 
 was, there came slipping down on the moonbeam, first, old 
 Mother Fern, all rolled up in a woolen shawl, with a woolen 
 hood on her head, but with a face brimful of benevolence 
 towards the new baby. Little Mistress Liverwort came 
 trembling after her ; for it was scarcely warm enough yet 
 to justify her putting on her spring clothes, and she did it 
 only at the urgent solicitations of Bluebird, who had been 
 besieging her doors for a fortnight. And, finally, there was 
 Pussy Willow, who prudently kept on her furs, and moved 
 so velvet-footed that nobody would even suspect she was 
 there ; but they undrew the curtains to get a look at the 
 new baby. 
 
 " Bless its heart ! " said Mother Fern, peering down at 
 it through her glasses. "It s as downy as any of us." 
 
 " I should think it might be a young bluebird," said 
 Liverwort, looking down out of her gray hood j " it looks 
 as much like one as anything. Come, what shall we give 
 it ? I 11 give it blue eyes, real violet-blue, and if 
 that is n t a good gift, I don t know what is." 
 
 " And I 11 give her some of my thrift and prudence," 
 said Mother Fern. " We Ferns have no blossoms to speak 
 of, but we are a well-to-do family, as everybody knows, and 
 can get our living on any soil where it pleases Heaven to put 
 us ; and so thrift shall be my gift for this little lady. 
 Thrift will surely lead to riches and honor. " 
 
 " I will give her a better thing than that," said Pussy 
 Willow. " I grow under the windows here, and mean to 
 adopt her. She shall be called little Pussy Willow, and I 
 shall give her the gift of always seeing the bright side of 
 everything. That gift will be more to her than beauty or 
 riches or honors. It is not so much matter what color 
 one s eyes are as what one sees with them. There is a 
 bright side to everything, if people only knew it, and the 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 143 
 
 best eyes are those which are able always to see this best 
 side." 
 
 " I must say, Friend Pussy," said Mother Fern, " that 
 you are a most sensibly spoken bush, for a bush of your age. 
 You always did seem to me to have a most remarkable 
 faculty in that line ; for I have remarked how you seize on 
 the first ray of sunshine, and get your pussies out before 
 any of us dare make a movement. Many a time I have 
 said, Well, I guess Miss Pussy Willow ? 11 find herself mis 
 taken in the weather this year ; J but, taking one year with 
 another, I think you have gained time by being always on 
 hand, and believing in the pleasant weather." 
 
 " Well," said Pussy, " if I should hang back with my 
 buds as our old Father Elm-tree does, I should miss a deal 
 of pleasure, and people would miss a deal of pleasure from 
 me. The children, dear souls ! I ? m always in a hurry to 
 get out in the spring, because it pleases them. here 7 s 
 Pussy Willow come back ! ? they cry when they see me. 
 Now the winter is over ! > And no matter if there is a 
 little dash of sleet or snow or frost after that, I stand it 
 with a good heart, because I know it is summer that is 
 coming, and not winter, and that things are certain to grow 
 better, and not worse. I ? m not handsome, I know ; I m 
 not elegant ; nobody thinks much of me ; and my only 
 good points are my cheerfulness and my faith in good 
 things to come ; so these are the gifts I bring to my little 
 god-child." 
 
 With that Pussy Willow stooped and rubbed her downy 
 cheek over the little downy cheek of the baby, and the tiny 
 face smiled in its sleep as if it knew that something good 
 was being done for it. But just then Nurse Toothacre, 
 who had been snoring very regularly for some time, gave 
 such a loud and sudden snort that it waked her up, and she 
 sat bolt upright in bed. 
 
144 
 
 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 " Was that a dog barking ? " she exclaimed. " I 
 thought I heard a dog." 
 
 Whisk ! went all the little fairies up the ladder of moon 
 shine ; but Pussy Willow laughed softly as she softly patted 
 her velvet tip against the window, and said, 
 
II 
 
 " WELL ! " said the old nurse, " who would V thought 
 that ere baby would V slept so ? None o your worry- 
 cats, she ain t." 
 
 You will observe from this speech that good Nurse 
 Toothacre had not had early advantages in forming her 
 style of conversation ; in consequence of which her manner 
 of expressing herself was not a thing to be recommended as 
 a model for you young folks. Well, now my dear young 
 folks who have read the first chapter will agree that our 
 baby has made a good beginning in life, and that the three 
 fairies, Mother Fern, and the pretty Miss Hepatica, and 
 Pussy Willow, have endowed her with rare gifts, such as 
 beautiful blue eyes, a good healthy constitution, and the 
 gift of seeing the bright side of everything. 
 
 This last gift was the greatest of all, as you will see if 
 you think a little, because it is quite plain that it is not so 
 much what people have that makes them happy, as what 
 they think and feel about what they have. If one little 
 girl has an old hat of her sister s pressed over, and trimmed 
 with some of her sister s last year s flowers, and likes it, and 
 is delighted with it, she is really far better off than another 
 little girl whose mother has bought for her three new hats 
 trimmed each with different fine things, and none of which 
 suit her, so that she declares she has n t a thing she can wear. 
 
 Little Pussy had great need to be gifted with this happy 
 disposition, for she was not a rich man s daughter. Her 
 father was a hard-working farmer, who owed about five 
 hundred dollars on his farm ; and it was his object, working 
 
146 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 day and night, to save up money enough to pay for this 
 farm. She had six older brothers, great, strong, stamp 
 ing boys ; and her mother was a feeble, delicate woman, 
 who had to do all the cooking, washing, ironing, making, 
 and mending for all these men folk without any help from 
 servants, so you may believe she had small time to cod 
 dle and pet her baby. In fact, before Little Pussy Willow 
 was four weeks old, she was lying in an old basket tied in 
 to a straw-bottomed rocking-chair, in the kitchen where her 
 mother was busy about her work ; and all day long there 
 she lay, with her thumb in her mouth, and her great, round 
 blue eyes contentedly staring at the kitchen ceiling. Once 
 in two or three hours her mother would take her up and 
 nurse her a little, and pull her clothes down straight about 
 her, and then Pussy would go off to sleep, and sleep an 
 hour or two, and then wake up and stare at the kitchen 
 ceiling as before, and sing and gurgle to herself in a quiet 
 baby way, that was quite like the sound of the little brook 
 behind the house. 
 
 When her father came home to his dinner, he would seize 
 her in his great, strong, sun-browned hands, and toss her 
 over his head, and her long-armed brothers would pass her 
 from one to another, like a little shuttlecock, in a way that 
 would have alarmed many another baby ; but Pussy took it 
 all with the utmost composure, and laughed and crowed all 
 the more, the ruder her nursing grew. 
 
 " I say, wife, what shall we call her ? " said Papa John ; 
 " she ? s a perfect March blossom, come just as the pussy 
 willows were out." 
 
 " Let s call her Pussy Willow then," said Sam, the oldest 
 boy ; and the rest laughed uproariously, and considered it a 
 famous joke, for when people work hard all day, and 
 have a good digestion, it is not necessary that a thing 
 should be very funny to make them laugh tremendously. 
 In fine, whether the plant fairies secretly had a hand in it, 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 147 
 
 or because Brother Sam was so fond of his conceit, the fact 
 is that, though the baby was baptized in church by the 
 name of Mary, she was ever afterwards called in the family 
 "Pussy," and " Pussy Willow. 7 Tom, the second boy, 
 declared that her cheeks were soft and downy like the puss 
 ies, and when she was lying in her cradle, only two weeks 
 old, he would sometimes tickle her cheeks with them to 
 bring out that pretty baby smile which is as welcome on a 
 little face as the first spring flower. 
 
 Pussy, having a tranquil mind and a good digestion, 
 throve very fast. The old women of the neighborhood re 
 marked that she began to " feel her feet " when she was only 
 a month old, and if anybody gave her the least chance to 
 show off this accomplishment, she would jump up and down 
 till one s arms were tired of holding her ; but when her 
 father or brother or mother was weary of this exercise, and 
 laid her flat on her back in the cradle, Pussy did not make 
 up a square mouth and begin to cry, as many ill-advised 
 babies do, but put her thumb into her mouth, like a sensible 
 little damsel, and set herself to seeing what could be found 
 to amuse her on the top of the kitchen wall. There she saw 
 the blue flies coursing up and down, stopping once in a 
 while to brush themselves briskly with the little clothes- 
 brushes which nature has put on the end of each of their 
 legs, when suddenly they would sweep round and round in 
 circles, and then come down and settle on Pussy s face, and 
 walk up and down over it, buzzing and talking with each 
 other, first by her eyes, then by her nose, then over her 
 forehead, as if the little face had been a flies pleasure-gar 
 den, laid out expressly for them to amuse themselves in. 
 
 Pussy took it all in good part, though sometimes she 
 winked very hard, and even took her thumb out of her 
 mouth to make some blind little passes with her white baby 
 fists doubled up, which would send the flies buzzing and 
 careering again ; but never a cry did she utter. 
 
148 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 " Of all the good babies that ever I did see," said Nurse 
 Toothacre, " I never see one ekil to this. Why, Marthy 
 Primrose wouldn t know she had a baby in the house, if 
 she had n t the washin and dressin and nussin of her." 
 
 By and by little Pussy learned to creep on all-fours, and 
 then she made long voyages over the clean-scoured kitchen 
 floor, and had most beautiful times, because she could open 
 the low cupboard doors and pull out all the things, and pick 
 holes in all the paper parcels, and pull over pails of water, 
 and then paddle in the clear silver flood that coursed its 
 way along the kitchen in little rivulets. One day she found 
 a paper of indigo in the low closet, with which she very 
 busily rubbed her hands and face and her apron and the 
 floor, so that when her mother came in from hanging out 
 clothes she did not know her own baby, but thought she 
 was a little blue goblin, and had to take her to the wash- 
 tub and put her in like a dirty dress to get her looking like 
 herself again. 
 
 Now as Martha Primrose was celebrated as one of the 
 nicest housekeepers in the country, of course she could not 
 allow such proceedings ; and as Pussy did not yet under 
 stand English, the only way she could keep her from them 
 was to watch her and catch her away, when she saw her 
 going about any piece of mischief. In consequence, Baby s 
 life was a perfect series of disappointments. It often seemed 
 to her that she was stopped in everything she undertook to 
 do. First, she would scuttle across the floor to the kitchen 
 fireplace and fill both little hands with ashes and black coals, 
 just to see what they were made of ; and then there would 
 be a loud outcry, and she would be made to throw them 
 down, her apron would be shaken, and her hands washed, 
 and the words, " No ! no ! naughty ! " pronounced in very 
 solemn tones over her. She would look up and laugh, and 
 creep away, and bring up next by the dresser, where she 
 would reach up for a pretty, nice dish of flour which she 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 149 
 
 longed to pull over ; and then the " "No I no ! " and 
 " Naughty ! " would sound again. Then Pussy would 
 laugh again, and go into the back kitchen and begin paddling 
 in a delightful pail of water, which was to her the dearest 
 of all forbidden amusements, when suddenly she would be 
 twitched up from behind, and " No ! no ! naughty baby ! " 
 once more sounded in her ear. Pussy heard this so much that 
 it began to amuse her; and so, when her mother looked 
 solemn and stern at her, she would shake her little head 
 and look waggish, and try to imitate the " No ! no ! " as if 
 it were something said for her diversion. 
 
 " You can t put her out," said Martha to her husband j 
 " she s the best little thing ; but it is wonderful the mis 
 chief she does. She just goes from one thing to another 
 all day long." 
 
 The fact is, baby once got a pan of molasses pulled over 
 on her head, and once fell, head first, into her mother s 
 wash-tub, which luckily had not at the time very hot water 
 in it ; and once she pulled the tap out of her mother s cask 
 of beer, and got herself pretty well blinded and soaked with 
 the spurting liquid. But all these things did not disturb 
 her serenity, and she took all the washings and dressings 
 and scoldings that followed with such jolly good-humor that 
 the usual amusement, when her father and brothers came 
 home, was the recital of Pussy s adventures for the day ; 
 and Pussy, sitting on her father s knee and discovering her 
 self to be the heroine of the story, would clap her hands 
 and crow and laugh as loudly as any of them. 
 
 " She s got more laugh in her than a whole circus," said 
 John Primrose. " I don t want no theatre nor no opera 
 when I can have her ; " and her brothers, who used to be 
 gone whole evenings over at a neighboring tavern, gradually 
 took to staying at home to have a romp with little Pussy. 
 When the hay about the old house was mown, they had 
 capital times, tumbling and rolling with Pussy in the sweet 
 
150 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 grass, and covering her up and letting her scratch out again, 
 and toss the hay about in her little fat hands, enchanted to 
 find that there was one thing that she could play with and 
 not be called " Naughty baby ! " or have " No ! no ! " 
 called in her ear. 
 
 In my next chapter I will tell you all about what little 
 Pussy had to play with, and what she did when she got 
 older. 
 
in 
 
 I CANNOT make my young folks understand just the value 
 of the gift which fairies brought to Little Pussy Willow, 
 unless I tell them about another little girl who did not have 
 any such present, but had everything else. 
 
 Little Emily Proudie was born in a splendid house, with 
 a white marble front, and a dozen marble steps leading up 
 to the door. Before she was born there were all sorts of 
 preparations to receive her, whole drawers full of little 
 dresses with worked waists, and of little caps trimmed with 
 pink and blue rosettes, and cunning little sacks embroidered 
 with silk and silver, and little bonnets, and little socks and 
 little shoes, and sleeve-ties with coral clasps, and little sil 
 ver and gold rattles, in short, everything that all the rich 
 aunts and uncles and cousins of a rich little baby could 
 think of. 
 
 To be sure no plant-fairies came in at the window to 
 look at her; but there were the fairies of the milliner s 
 shop, and the jeweler s shop, and of all the shops and 
 stores in New York, and they endowed the baby with no 
 end of bright and beautiful things. She was to be hand 
 some and rich, and always to have elegant clothes, and live 
 in a palace, and have fine horses and carriages, and every 
 thing to eat and to drink that she could fancy, and there 
 fore everybody must think that this little girl would be 
 happy. 
 
 But this one plain gift that the poor Little Pussy Wil 
 low brought was left out in all Emily s treasures. No 
 good fairy ever gave her the gift of liking everything she 
 
152 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 had, and seeing the hright side of everything. If she had 
 only had this gift, she might have heen as much happier 
 than our Little Pussy Willow as she had more things to 
 be happy with; hut as she did not have it, she grew up, 
 notwithstanding all her treasures, to be a fretful, discon 
 tented little girl. 
 
 At the time I am speaking of, these two little girls are 
 each of them to be seen in very different circumstances. 
 It is now the seventh birthday of Little Pussy Willow; 
 and you might think, perhaps, that she was going to have 
 a holiday, or some birthday presents, or a birthday party. 
 But no, it is not so. Pussy s mother is a poor hard-work 
 ing woman, who never found any time to pet her children, 
 though she loved them as much as any other mother. 
 Besides, where she lived, nobody ever heard of such a 
 thing as celebrating a child s birthday. Pussy never had 
 had a present made to her in all her little life. She never 
 had had a plaything, except the bright yellow dandelions 
 in spring, or the pussies of the willow-bush, or the cat-tails 
 which her brothers sometimes brought home in their pock 
 ets; and to-day, though it is her birthday, Pussy is sitting 
 in a little chair, learning to sew on some patchwork, while 
 her mother is kneading up bread in the kitchen beside 
 her. There is a yellow mug standing on the table, with 
 some pussy-willow sprigs in it, which have blossomed out 
 early this spring, and which her father broke off for her 
 before he went to his work; and Pussy sits pulling her 
 needle through the gay squares of calico, and giving it a 
 push with the little yellow brass thimble. Sometimes she 
 stops a minute to speak to the little pussies, and touch 
 their downy heads to her cheek, and sometimes she puts 
 up her little mouth to kiss her mother, who comes to her 
 with her hands all covered with flour; and then she tugs 
 away again most industriously with her needle, till the 
 small square is finished, and she says, "May I get down 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 153 
 
 and play now? " And mamma says, "Wait a moment till 
 I get my hands out of the bread." And mamma kneads 
 and rolls the great white cushion in the bread-bowl, and 
 turns it over and over, and rubs every bit and morsel of 
 loose white flour into it, and kneads it smoothly in, and 
 then, taking it up once more, throws it down in the bowl, 
 a great, smooth, snowy hill of dough, in the middle of 
 which she leaves one fist-print; and then she rubs her 
 hands from the flour and paste, and washes them clean, 
 and comes and takes up Pussy, and sets her down on the 
 floor; and Pussy forthwith goes to a lower cupboard where 
 are her treasures. 
 
 And what are they ? They are the fragment of an old 
 milk-pitcher, and the nose and handle of a tea-pot, and 
 ever so many little bits of broken china, and one little old 
 sleigh-bell which her grandfather gave her. There is a 
 rag-doll made up on a clothes-pin, which Pussy every day 
 washes, dresses, puts to bed, takes up, teaches to sew, 
 and, in short, educates to the best of her little ability in 
 the way in which she is herself being brought up. And 
 there are several little strips of bright red and yellow calico 
 which she prizes greatly, besides a handful of choice long 
 curly shavings, which she got at a carpenter s bench when 
 her mother took her up to the village. 
 
 Pussy is perfectly happy in these treasures, and has 
 been sewing very industriously all the morning, that she 
 may get to the dear closet where they are kept. Then for 
 playmates she has only a great, grave, old, yellow dog 
 named Bose, who, the minute he sees Pussy get down, 
 comes soberly patting up to her, wagging his tail. And 
 little Pussy gathers all her treasures in her short checked 
 apron, and goes out under the great elm-tree to play with 
 Bose ; and she is now perfectly happy. 
 
 She makes a little house out of her bits of broken china, 
 arranged in squares on the turf; she ties a limp sun-bonnet 
 
154 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 on Bose s head, and makes believe that he is mother to 
 the clothes-pin rag-baby, and tells him he must rock it to 
 sleep; and Bose looks very serious and obedient, and sits 
 over the baby while Pussy pretends to yoke up oxen and 
 go off to the fields to work. 
 
 By and by Bose thinks this has lasted long enough, and 
 comes scampering after her, with the sun-bonnet very 
 much over one eye; and then he gets talked to, and 
 admonished, and led back to his duty. He gets very 
 tired of it sometimes; and Pussy has to vary the play by 
 letting him have a scamper with her down to the brook, 
 to watch the tiny little fish that whisk and dart among the 
 golden rings of sunlight under the bright brown waters. 
 
 Hour after hour passes, and Pussy grows happier every 
 minute; for the sun shines, and the sky is blue, and Bose 
 is capital company, and she has so many pretty playthings! 
 
 When Pussy lies down in her little crib at night, she 
 prays God to bless her dear father and mother, and her 
 dear brothers, and Bose, and dolly, and all the dear Little 
 Pussy Willows. The first part of the prayer her mother 
 taught her, the last part she made up herself, out of her 
 own curly head and happy little heart, and she does not 
 doubt in the least that the good God hears the last as 
 much as the first. 
 
 Now this is the picture of what took place on little 
 Pussy s seventh birthday: but you must see what took 
 place on little Emily s seventh birthday, which was to be 
 kept with great pomp and splendor. From early morning 
 the door-bell was kept constantly ringing on account of the 
 presents that were being sent in to Emily. I could not 
 begin to tell you half of them. There was a great doll 
 from Paris, with clothes all made to take off and put on, 
 and a doll s bureau full of petticoats and drawers and 
 aprons and stockings and collars and cuffs and elegant 
 dresses for Miss Dolly; and there were little bandboxes 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 155 
 
 with ever so many little bonnets, and little parasols, and 
 little card-cases, and nobody knows what, all for Miss 
 Dolly. Then there were bracelets and rings and pins for 
 little Emily herself, and a gold drinking- cup set with 
 diamonds, and every sort of plaything that any one could 
 think of, till a whole room was filled with Emily s birth 
 day presents. 
 
 Nevertheless, Emily was not happy. In fact, she was 
 very unhappy ; and the reason was that the pink silk dress 
 she wanted to wear had not come home from the dress 
 maker s, and no other dress in the world would in the 
 least do for her. 
 
 In vain mamma and two nurses talked and persuaded, 
 and showed her her presents; she wanted exactly the only 
 thing that could not be got, and nothing but that seemed 
 of any value in her eyes. The whole house was in com 
 motion about this dress, and messengers were kept running 
 backward and forward to Madame Follet s; but it was 
 almost night before it came, and neither Emily nor any of 
 her friends could have any peace until then. 
 
 The fact is that the little girl had been so industriously 
 petted ever since she was born, and had had so many play 
 things and presents, that there was not anything that could 
 be given her which seemed half as pretty to her as two or 
 three long clean, curly shavings seemed to Little Pussy 
 Willow; and then, unfortunately, no good fairy had given 
 her the gift of being easily pleased; so that, with every 
 body working and trying from morning to night to please 
 her, little Emily was always in a fret or a worry about 
 something. Her mother said that the dear child had such 
 a fastidious taste ! that she was so sensitive ! but 
 whatever the reason might be, Emily was never very 
 happy. Instead of thinking of the things she had, and 
 liking them, she was always fretting about something that 
 she had not or could not get; and when the things she 
 
156 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 most longed for at last came into her hands, suddenly she 
 found that she had ceased to want them. 
 
 Her seventh birthday ended with a children s ball, to 
 which all the little children of her acquaintance were in 
 vited, and there was a band of music, and an exquisite 
 supper and fireworks on the lawn near the house; and 
 Emily appeared in the very pink silk dress she had set her 
 heart on; but alas! she was not happy. For Madame 
 Follet had not put on the flounces, as she promised, and 
 the sash had no silver fringe. This melancholy discovery 
 was made when it was entirely too late to help it, and 
 poor Emily was in low spirits all the evening. 
 
 "She is too sensitive for this life," said her mamma, 
 "the sweet little angel!" 
 
 Emily sunk to sleep about midnight, hot, tired, fever 
 ish. She cried herself to sleep. Why? She could not 
 tell. Can you? 
 
IV 
 
 AND now some of my little friends perhaps have a ques 
 tion to ask me. Is not a little girl more likely to be happy 
 who is brought up in the simple and natural way in which 
 Pussy Willow has grown up, than one who has had all 
 that has been given to Emily Proudie ? 
 
 I began by telling you that the gift of being easily 
 pleased was what made the difference between the two 
 little girls, that it was a gift worth more than beauty, 
 or riches, or anything else that could be thought of. 
 
 But I do think that a way of " bringing-up " like that 
 in which poor little Emily was educated is the surest way 
 to destroy this gift, even if a girl s birth fairies had given 
 it to her. You know very well that, when you have been 
 taking a lonely scramble among the rocks until long after 
 your dinner-time, a plain crust of bread tastes so sweet to 
 you that you wonder you ever have wanted cake or ginger 
 bread; and that sometimes, in like manner, when you have 
 walked till you are hot and thirsty, you have dipped up 
 the water out of some wild-wood spring, and drank it 
 with an enjoyment such as the very best tea or coffee or 
 lemonade never gave. That was because you were really 
 hungry or really thirsty; and the pleasure you get from 
 food and drink can never be known unless you become 
 really hungry and thirsty. 
 
 But many poor little children are brought up in such a 
 way that they never know what it is to have a real desire 
 for anything. They are like a child stuffed with cake and 
 sweetmeats from morning till night. Every wish is antici- 
 
158 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 pated, and pleasures are crowded upon them so fast that 
 they have none of the enjoyments of wishing, planning, 
 and contriving which come to those who are left to seek 
 their own pleasures and make their own way. The good 
 God has so made us that the enjoyments which come to us 
 through the use of our own faculties are a great deal more 
 satisfactory than those which are brought to us by others. 
 Many a little girl enjoys making a sand-pie out in the road 
 far more than she would the most expensive playthings, 
 because she trots about in making it, runs, laughs, works, 
 gets herself into a healthy glow, and feels that she is doing 
 something. 
 
 Poor little Emily Proudie never had that pleasure. 
 From the time she was a baby, she has had constantly one, 
 two, or three attendants, whose sole business it is to play 
 with her and to contrive playthings and amusements for 
 her, and a very wearisome time they all have had of it. 
 Yes, I do believe that if little Emily, without any more 
 of a gift of being pleased than falls to the lot of all chil 
 dren, had been brought up exactly as Pussy Willow was, 
 she would have been far happier than she is now. 
 
 There is another reason why Pussy Willow was grow 
 ing up happy, and that is, that she was every day doing 
 something that she felt was of some use. When she was 
 so little that her head scarcely came above the table, she 
 used to stand propped on a small stool and wash the break 
 fast cups and spoons, and very proud she was of doing 
 it. How she admired the bright bubbles which she could 
 make in the clean, soapy water, and how proud she was of 
 seeing the cups and spoons look so clear and bright as she 
 rubbed them with her towel! and then, getting down, 
 she would trip across the kitchen with them, one or two 
 at a time, and, rising on her little toes, by great good luck 
 she could just get them on to the cupboard shelf; and then 
 she would hang her towel on its nail, and empty her dish- 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 159 
 
 pan, and wipe off the table, and feel quite like a large 
 woman in doing it. 
 
 When Pussy was ten years old, her mother one day 
 hurt her arm by a fall, so that she had to wear it in a 
 sling. This would not be an agreeable thing to happen to 
 anybody s mamma; but Pussy s mother had no servants, 
 and everything that was to be eaten in the house had to 
 be made up by her one pair of hands, and she therefore 
 felt quite troubled, as the house was far from neighbors, 
 and there were a husband and four hungry young men to 
 be fed. 
 
 In a city you can send out to a bakery; but in the 
 country what is to be done? 
 
 "I really think you 11 have to harness and drive the old 
 mare over to Aunt Judy s, and get her to come over," said 
 Pussy s mother. 
 
 "That s a trouble," said her father. "The hay is all 
 ready to get in, and there will certainly be rain by after 
 noon. The horse cannot possibly be spared." 
 
 "Now, mother, just let me make bread," said Pussy, 
 feeling very large. "I ve seen you do it, time and time 
 again, and I know I could do it." 
 
 "Hurrah for Pussy!" said her brothers; "she s a 
 trump. You let her try, she 11 do it." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said her father. "I d rather have my 
 little Pussy than a dozen Aunt Judys." 
 
 Pussy was wonderfully elated by this praise, and got 
 one of her mother s aprons and tied it round her, which, 
 to say the truth, came quite down to her ankles, and made 
 her feel very old and wise. 
 
 Her mother now told her that she might go into the 
 buttery and sift eight quarts of flour into the bread-tray, 
 and bring it out, and she would show her just how to wet 
 it. 
 
 So away went Pussy ; and right pleased was she to get 
 
160 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 her little rosy hands into the flour. It was far more amus 
 ing than making believe make bread with sand, as she had 
 often done when she and Bose were out playing together. 
 So she patted and sifted, and soon came out lifting the 
 bread-tray, and set it beside her mother. 
 
 "Now scatter in a handful of salt, 7 said her mother. 
 
 Pussy did so. 
 
 "Now make a little hole in the middle, and measure 
 three gills of yeast, and put that in the hole." 
 
 Pussy found this quite easy, because their tin quart- 
 measure was marked around with rings for the gills; and 
 so, when her yeast was up to the third ring, she poured it 
 into the hole in the middle of the flour, and began stirring 
 it with a spoon, till she had made a nice little foamy lake 
 in the middle of her mountain of puffy white flour. 
 
 "And now for your wetting, Pussy," said her mother. 
 " You want about a quart of hot water and a quart of good 
 milk to begin with, and we 11 see how you go on. But 
 I m a little afraid you re not strong enough to knead such 
 a big batch." 
 
 "Oh, mother, I m a large girl now," said Pussy, "and 
 you ve no idea how strong I am! I want to knead a real 
 batch, just such as you do, and not a little play batch, 
 a baby s batch." 
 
 "Well, well, we ll try it," said her mother; "and I ll 
 pour in your wetting." So she began to pour in, and 
 Pussy plumped in both hands, and went at her work with 
 a relish. 
 
 The flour stuck to her fingers; but she stirred about 
 with vigor, and made her little hands fly so fast that her 
 mother said they did the work of bigger ones. By and 
 by the flour was all stiffly mixed, and now Pussy put out 
 all her little strength, and bent over the tray, kneading 
 and kneading, and turning and turning, till the paste 
 began to look white and smooth. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 161 
 
 "Oh mother, I like this! it s the best fun I ever 
 had, 77 said Pussy. "How soft and smooth I am getting 
 it! It s beginning to rise, I do believe, this very minute; 
 I can feel it rising under my hands. I shall be so proud 
 to show it to father and the boys ! Mother, you 11 always 
 let me make the bread, won t you 1 " 
 
 "We 11 see," said her mother. "Mind you knead in 
 every bit of the flour. Don t leave any on the sides of 
 the pan. Rub all those ragged patches together, and knead 
 them in. You are getting it quite smooth." 
 
 In fine, Pussy, elated, took up the whole white round 
 cushion of dough and turned it over in the tray, as she 
 had seen her mother do, and left one very little fist-mark 
 in the centre. "There now, Mrs. Bread, there you are," 
 she said; "now I shall tuck you up warm and put you to 
 sleep, till it s time to take you up and bake you." So 
 Pussy covered her bread up warm with an old piece of 
 quilt which her mother kept for this special purpose; then 
 she washed her hands, and put away all the dishes she had 
 been using, and swept up the flour she had dropped on her 
 mother s clean, shining floor. 
 
 "And now, mother, shall I put on the dinner pot 1 ?" 
 said Pussy, who felt herself growing in importance. 
 
 "Yes, you may put it on; and then you may go down 
 cellar, and get a piece of beef and a piece of pork, and 
 bring them up for dinner." 
 
 And away tripped Pussy down cellar, and soon appeared 
 again with her pan full of provisions. After that she 
 washed the potatoes and turnips, and very soon the dinner 
 was on the stove, boiling. 
 
 "Now, Pussy," said her mother, "you can go and play 
 down by the brook for an hour and a half." 
 
 "Mother," said Pussy, "I like working better than 
 play." . 
 
 "It is play to you now," said her mother; "but if you 
 had to do these things every day, you might get tired." 
 
162 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 Pussy thought not, she was quite sure not. Never 
 theless, she took her Dolly and Bose, and went down to 
 the brook, and had a good time among the sweet-flags. 
 But her mind kept running on her bread, and every once 
 in a while she came running back to peep under the little 
 quilt. 
 
 Yes, sure enough, there it was, rising as light and as 
 nice as any Pussy s heart could desire. And how proud 
 and important she felt ! 
 
 "It was real lively yeast," said her mother. "I knew 
 it would rise quickly." 
 
 Well, I need not tell my little readers the whole history 
 of this wonderful batch of bread, how in time Pussy got 
 down the moulding-board, all herself, and put it on the 
 kitchen table; and how she cut her loaves off, and rolled, 
 and kneaded, and patted, and so coaxed them into the 
 very nicest little white cushions that ever were put into 
 buttered bake- pans. One small portion Pussy left to be 
 divided into round delicate little biscuits ; and it was good 
 fun for her to cut and roll and shape these into the pret 
 tiest little pincushions, and put them in white, even rows 
 into the pans, and prick two small holes in the top of 
 each. 
 
 When all these evolutions had been performed, then 
 came the baking; and very busy was Pussy putting in her 
 pans, watching and turning and shifting them, so that 
 each might get its proper portion of nice, sweet, golden- 
 brown crust. 
 
 She burnt her fingers once or twice, but she didn t 
 mind that when she drew her great beautiful loaves from 
 the oven, and her mother tapped on them with her thimble 
 and pronounced them done. Such a row of nice loaves, 
 all her own making ! Pussy danced around the table where 
 she had ranged them, and then, in the pride of her heart, 
 called Bose to look at them. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 163 
 
 Bose licked his chops, and looked as appreciative as a 
 dog could, and, seeing that something was expected of him, 
 barked aloud for joy. 
 
 That night Pussy s biscuits were served for supper, with 
 the cold beef and pork, and Pussy was loudly praised on 
 all sides. 
 
 "Wife, you ll take your ease now," said her father, 
 "since you have such a little housekeeper sent to you." 
 
 Pussy was happier that night than if three servants had 
 been busy dressing dolls for her all day. 
 
 "Mother," she said, soberly, when she lay down in her 
 little bed that night, "I J m going to ask God to keep me 
 humble." 
 
 " Why, my dear 1 " 
 
 " Because I feel tempted to be proud, I can make 
 such good bread ! " 
 
PUSSY WILLOW was so happy and proud at her success 
 in making bread, that she now felt a very grown-up woman 
 indeed; and her idea of a grown-up woman was, as you 
 will see, that of a person able and willing to do something 
 to some useful purpose. Some of my readers may think 
 that a little girl ten years of age could not knead up and 
 bake a batch of bread like that which Pussy is described 
 as doing; but they must remember that little girls who 
 grow up in the healthy air of the mountains, and who 
 have always lived a great part of their time in the open 
 air, and have been trained to the use of their arms and 
 hands from early infancy, become larger and stronger than 
 those who have been nursed in cities, and who never have 
 done anything but arrange dolls baby-houses, and play at 
 giving and receiving company. 
 
 Pussy was as strong a little mountaineer as you could 
 wish to see; and now that her mother was laid up with 
 a lame arm, Pussy daily gloried in her strength. "How 
 lucky it is," she said to herself as she was dressing in the 
 morning, " that I have got to be such a large girl ! What 
 mother would do without me, I m sure I don t see. Well 
 now, if I can make bread and biscuit, I m sure I can make 
 gingerbread and pies; and father and the boys will never 
 miss anything. Oh, I 11 not let grass grow under my 
 feet." 
 
 This was in the dim gray of the morning, before another 
 soul was awake in the house, when Pussy was up bright 
 and early ; for she had formed the design of getting up and 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 165 
 
 making breakfast ready, all of her own self, before any 
 body should be up to call her or ask her to do it. For 
 you must know it was Pussy s nature to like to run before 
 people s expectations. She took a great interest in sur 
 prising people, and doing more than they expected; and 
 she thought to herself, as she softly tiptoed down the 
 stairs: "Now I shall have the fire all made, and the tea 
 kettle boiling, by the time that mother wakes. I know 
 she 11 wake thinking I must go and call Pussy, and ask 
 her to get breakfast. How surprised she ll be to find 
 Pussy up and dressed, the fire made, and the kettle boil 
 ing, and breakfast just ready to go on! " 
 
 So Pussy softly felt her way into the kitchen, where it 
 was hardly light as yet, and found the water-pail, and 
 then, opening the kitchen-door, she started for the little 
 spring back of the house for a pail of water. It had been 
 Pussy s work from her earliest years to bring water from 
 this spring to her mother, at first in tiny little pails, 
 but gradually, as she grew older and bigger, in larger ones, 
 till now she could lift the full-sized water-pail, which she 
 had on her arm. 
 
 "So here you are, Mr. Robin," said Pussy, as she 
 stepped out of the door and heard a lively note struck up 
 from the willow-bush by the window. "You and I are 
 up early this morning, ar n t we? Ha, ha, old Mr. Chip 
 munk, is that you 1 Take care of yourself, or I shall 
 catch you. You are up getting breakfast for your family, 
 and I for mine. Mother is sick, and I m housekeeper 
 now, Mr. Chip." So saying, Pussy splashed her pail 
 down among the fern-leaves that bordered the edges of the 
 spring, and laughed to see the bright, clear water ripple 
 into it; and having filled it, she drew it up all glittering 
 and dripping with diamond-bright drops, which fell back 
 again into the little spring. 
 
 "There s a girl for you! " said old Mother Fern, when 
 
166 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 Pussy had turned her back on the spring. "That girl 
 does credit to our teaching. Every feeling of her heart is 
 as fresh and clear as spring-water, and she goes on doing 
 good just as the brook runs in a bright, merry stream. 
 That girl will never know what it is to be nervous or 
 low-spirited, or have the dyspepsia, or any of the other 
 troubles that come on the lazy daughters of men. And it 
 all comes of the gifts that we wood-fairies have brought 
 her. She takes everything by the smooth handle, and sees 
 everything on the bright side, and enjoys her work a great 
 deal more than most children do their play." 
 
 Meanwhile Pussy had gone in and kindled the fire in 
 the stove, and set over the tea-kettle, and now was busy 
 sifting some meal to make some corn-cakes for breakfast. 
 
 "I ve seen mother do this often enough," she said, 
 "and I ll surprise her by getting it all nicely into the 
 oven without her saying a word about it." So she ran in 
 all haste to the buttery, where stood a pan of milk which 
 had turned deliciously sour, and shook and quivered as 
 she moved it, like some kind of delicate white jelly with 
 a golden coating of cream over it. A spoonful of soda soon 
 made this white jelly a mass of foam, and then a teacupful 
 of bright, amber-colored molasses was turned into it, and 
 then it was beaten into a stiff mass with the sifted corn- 
 meal, and poured into well-buttered pans to be baked. 
 Pussy was really quite amused at all this process. She 
 was delighted to find that the cake would actually foam 
 under her hands as she had often seen it under her mo 
 ther s, and when she shut the oven-doors on her experi 
 ment it was with a beating heart. 
 
 "I do believe, mother," said Pussy s father, opening 
 one eye and giving a great stretch, "I do believe Pussy 
 is up before you." 
 
 " Good child ! " said her mother, " she is making the 
 fire for me. With a little instruction she will be able to 
 make a corn-cake nicely." 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 1G7 
 
 Pussy s voice was now heard at the door. "Mother! 
 mother! sha n t I come in and help you dress?" and a 
 bright little face followed the voice, and peeped in at the 
 crack of the door. 
 
 "Thank you, dear child; I was just thinking of coming 
 to call you. I wanted you to make the fire for me." 
 
 "It s made, mother, long ago." 
 
 "What a good girl! Well then, you may just get a 
 pail of water and fill the tea-kettle." 
 
 " I got the water and filled the kettle half an hour ago, 
 mother," said Pussy, "and you can t think how it s boil 
 ing ! puffing away like a steamboat, and I ve put the 
 coffee on to boil, and " 
 
 "You have been a very good girl," said her mother, as 
 Pussy was helping her into her gown. "You are such a 
 nice handy little housekeeper that I think I can easily 
 show you how to get the whole breakfast. Would n t you 
 like to have me teach you how to mix the corn-cakes ! " 
 
 Oh, then how Pussy laughed and crowed, as she led her 
 mother into the kitchen, and, opening the oven-door, 
 showed her corn- cakes rising as nicely as could be, and 
 baking with a real lovely golden brown ! And besides that 
 there were slices of ham that she had cut and trimmed so 
 neatly, lying all ready to be put into the frying-pan. 
 
 How Pussy enjoyed that breakfast! The cakes were as 
 light and golden as her mother s best, and Pussy had all 
 the glory of them, for she had made them all by herself. 
 I don t think Miss Emily Proudie ever felt so delighted 
 to walk out in a new hat and feather as did little Pussy to 
 be able to get this breakfast for her mother, and to hear 
 the praises of her father and brothers on everything she 
 had made. 
 
 It would be amusing if the good fairies would let us 
 ride on a bit of their fairy carpet through the air on this 
 same bright morning, when Pussy was so gay and happy 
 
168 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 in her household cares, and set us down in the elegant 
 chamber where little Emily was sleeping. Everything 
 about the room shows such a study to please the sleeping 
 child ! The walls are hung with lovely pictures ; the floor 
 is carpeted with the most charming carpet; the sofas and 
 chairs and lounges are all of the most elegant shapes, and 
 spread out upon the sofa is a beautiful new walking-dress, 
 which came home after little Emily went to bed last night, 
 and which is spread out so as to catch her eye the first 
 thing when she wakes in the morning. It is now past 
 eight o clock, and Pussy Willow has long since washed 
 all the dishes, and arranged the kitchen, and done the 
 morning work in the farmhouse, and has gone out with 
 her little basket on her arm to dig roots, and pull young 
 winter-green for beer; but all this while little Emily has 
 been drowsily turning from side to side, and uneasily 
 brushing off the busy flies that seem determined she shall 
 not sleep any longer. 
 
 " Come now, Miss Emily ! your mamma says you must 
 wake up and see your pretty new dress," says Bridget, 
 who has been in four times before, to try and wake the 
 little sleeper. Emily sits up in bed at last, and calls for 
 the new dress. 
 
 "So, she s got it done at last, that hateful Madame 
 Tulleruche! She always keeps me waiting so long that 
 I am tired to death. But there ! she has gone and put 
 that trimming on in folds, and I told her I wanted puffs. 
 The dress is just ruined. Take it away, Bridget. I can t 
 bear the sight of it. I do wonder what is the reason that 
 I never can have anything done as other girls can. 
 There s always something the matter with my things." 
 
 "Troth, Miss Emily, it s jist that ye s got too much of 
 ivry thing, and your stomach is kept turned all the time," 
 said Bridget. "If ye had to work as I do for your new 
 dresses, ye d like em better, that s what ye would. I 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 169 
 
 tell ye what would do ye more good than all the fine things 
 ye s got, and that same s a continted mind." 
 
 "But how can I be contented," said Emily, "when 
 nothing ever suits me 1 I m so particular, mamma says 
 so. I m so, and I can t help it, and nobody ever does do 
 anything quite as I like it; and so I am unhappy all the 
 time." 
 
 "And what if ye did something for somebody else, 
 instead of having everybody else a-serving ye? " said 
 Bridget. "I works from morning to night, and gets my 
 two dollars a week, and sends the most part of it to me 
 poor old mother in Ireland; and it keeps me jolly praise 
 be to God! to think I m a-comfortin her old age. Did 
 ye ever think whether ye did anything for anybody ? " 
 
 No ; Emily never had thought of that. From the very 
 first hour that her baby eyes had opened, she had seen all 
 the world on their knees around her, trying to serve and 
 please her. Neither her father nor mother ever spoke or 
 acted as if they expected her to do the slightest service for 
 them. On the contrary, they always spoke as if they 
 must do everything for her; and Bridget s blunt talk now 
 and then was the only intimation the little girl ever got 
 that there was a way to be happy that she knew not of. 
 
VI 
 
 OUR little friend Pussy went on in the way we have 
 described, every day finding a new thing that she was able 
 to do, and taking the greatest delight in doing it. Grad 
 ually her mother s arm recovered, as it never would 
 have done, had not the helpfulness of her little daughter 
 enabled her to give it entire rest, and she was in a situ 
 ation to resume her family cares. 
 
 " What a blessing our little Pussy has been to us ! " said 
 her father to her mother, one night, as they were talking 
 over their family affairs. 
 
 "Yes," said the mother; "that dear child is so unsel 
 fish, and so much more than willing to do for us, that I 
 am fearful lest we shall make too much of her. I don t 
 want to make a mere drudge of my daughter, and I think 
 we must send her to school this summer. Pussy is a good 
 reader, I have always taught her a little every day, 
 and she writes little letters on a slate quite prettily for a 
 child; but now I think we must send her over to the 
 Academy, and let her go in with the primary class." 
 
 Now the Academy was two miles off; but all the family 
 were used to being up and having breakfast over by seven 
 o clock in the morning; and then Pussy put on her sun- 
 bonnet, and made a little bundle of her books, and tripped 
 away cheerfully down the hard stony road, along the path 
 of the bright brown brook, through a little piece of waving 
 pine forest, next through some huckleberry pastures and 
 patches of sweet fern- bushes, then through a long piece of 
 rocky and shady forest, till she reached the Academy. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 171 
 
 Little Emily Proudie also went to school, at one of the 
 most elegant establishments on Fifth Avenue; and as she 
 was esteemed to be entirely too delicate to walk, her father 
 had provided for her a beautiful little coupe, cushioned 
 inside with purple silk, and drawn by a white horse, with 
 a driver in livery at her command. This was Emily s 
 own carriage, and one would think that, when she had 
 nothing to do but to get into it, she might have been 
 always early at her school; but, unfortunately for her, this 
 was never the case. Emily could not be induced, by the 
 repeated calls of Bridget, to shake off her morning slumbers 
 till at least half an hour after the time she ought to rise. 
 Then she was so miserably undecided what to put on, and 
 tried so many dresses before she could be suited, and was 
 so dissatisfied with the way her hair was arranged, that 
 she generally came to breakfast all in ill-humor, and only 
 to find that they had got for her breakfast exactly the 
 things that she didn t fancy. If there was an omelette 
 and coffee and toast, then Emily wished that it had been 
 chocolate and muffins; but if the cook the next morning, 
 hoping to make a lucky hit, got chocolate and muffins, 
 Emily had made up her mind in the mean time that the 
 chocolate would give her a headache, and that she must 
 have tea made; and with all these points to be attended 
 to, there is no wonder that the little coupd, and the little 
 white horse, and the driver in livery, were often kept 
 waiting at the door long after the time when Emily ought 
 to have been in her class-room. 
 
 Madame Ardenne often gently complained to Emily s 
 mother, very gently, because the Proudies were so rich 
 and fashionable that she would have been in utter despair 
 at the idea of offending them; but still the poor woman 
 could not help trying to make Emily s mother understand 
 that a scholar who always came into the class-room when 
 the lesson was half over could not be expected to learn as 
 
172 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 fast as if she were there punctually, besides being a great 
 annoyance to all the rest of the scholars. 
 
 Emily s mother always said that she was sorry it was 
 so, but her dear child was of a most peculiar organization, 
 that it did not seem possible for her to wake at any 
 regular hour in the morning, and that really the dear 
 child had a sensitiveness of nature that made it very diffi 
 cult to know what to do with her. 
 
 In fact, young ladies who are brought up like little 
 Emily, to have every earthly thing done for them, and to 
 do no earthly thing for themselves, are often sorely tried 
 when they come to school life, because there are certain 
 things in education which all human beings must learn to 
 do for themselves. Emily always had had a maid to wash 
 her and dress her, and to do everything that a healthy 
 little girl might do for herself; but no maid could learn to 
 read for her, or write for her. Her mamma talked strongly 
 of sending to Paris for a French dressing maid, to keep 
 her various dresses in order; but even a French dressing- 
 maid could not learn a French verb for her, or play on the 
 piano for her. Consequently poor Emily s school life was 
 full of grievous trials to her. Her lessons seemed doubly 
 hard to her, because she had always been brought up to 
 feel that she must be saved from every labor, and must 
 yield before the slightest thing that looked like a difficulty. 
 
 Little Pussy, after her walk of two miles, would come 
 into the Academy fresh and strong, at least a quarter of an 
 hour before school, and have a good time talking with the 
 other girls before the school began. Then she set about 
 her lessons with the habit of conquering difficulties. If 
 there was a hard sum in her lesson, Pussy went at it with 
 a real spirit and interest. "Please don t tell me a word," 
 she would say to her teacher: "I want to work it out 
 myself. I m sure I can do it." And the greater the 
 difficulty, the more cheerful became her confidence. There 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 173 
 
 was one sum, I remember, that Pussy worked upon for 
 a week, a sum that neither her father nor mother, nor 
 any of her brothers, could do; but she would not allow 
 her teacher to show her. She was resolutely determined 
 to do it all alone by herself, and to find out the way for 
 herself, and at last she succeeded ; and a very proud and 
 happy Pussy she was when she did succeed. 
 
 My little girls, I want to tell you that there is a plea 
 sure in vanquishing a difficulty, in putting forth all the 
 power and strength you have in you to do a really hard 
 thing, that is greater than all the pleasures of ease and 
 indolence. The little girl who lies in bed every morning 
 just half an hour later than her conscience tells her she 
 ought to lie, thinks she is taking comfort in it, but she is 
 mistaken. She is secretly dissatisfied with and ashamed 
 of herself, and her conscience keeps up a sort of uneasy 
 trouble, every morning; whereas, if she once formed the 
 habit of springing up promptly at a certain hour, and 
 taking a good morning bath, and dressing herself in season 
 to have plenty of time to attend to all her morning duties, 
 she would have a self-respect and self-confidence that it is 
 very pleasant to feel. 
 
 Pussy s life in the Academy was a great enjoyment to 
 her this summer. She felt it a great kindness in her 
 mother to excuse her from all family duties, and take all 
 the work upon herself, in order that she might have time 
 to study; and so she studied with a right good will. Her 
 cheerful temper made her a universal favorite. She 
 seemed among her schoolfellows like a choice lot of sugar 
 plums or sweetmeats ; everybody wanted a scrap or portion. 
 One girl wanted Pussy to play with her; another made her 
 promise to walk home with her; two or three wanted to 
 engage her for recess; all Pussy s spare hours for days and 
 days ahead were always engaged by her different friends. 
 The girls said, " Pussy is such a dear girl ! she is so bright ! 
 
174 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 she makes the time pass so pleasantly ! " And Pussy in 
 return liked everybody, and thought there never was so 
 pleasant a school, or such a fortunate girl, as herself. 
 
 On Saturdays there was no school, and then Pussy 
 would insist on going into the kitchen to help her mother. 
 
 "Now, my dear, you ought not to do it," her mother 
 would say. "You ought to have Saturday to amuse your 
 self." 
 
 "Well, it amuses me to make the pies," Pussy would 
 say. " I like to see how many I can turn out in a day. 
 I don t ask better fun." 
 
 So went on the course of Pussy s education. 
 
VII 
 
 I HAVE told you how Pussy went to the Academy in 
 summer, and what good times she had going through the 
 fragrant sweet-fern pastures, and across the brown spark 
 ling brooks, and through patches of woods green with moss 
 and gay with scarlet wintergreen berries, and what other 
 good times she had studying and working out her sums, 
 and also how fond every one got of her. 
 
 Well, by and by autumn came, and the frost changed 
 all the leaves on the mountains round the house to scarlet 
 and orange and gold; and then the leaves began to fall, 
 and the old north- wind came, and blew and whirled and 
 scattered them through the air, till finally the trees stood 
 bare. Then Pussy s father said, "It s time to make all 
 ready for winter, " for he had been getting the cellar full 
 of good things. Barrels of cider had been rolled in at the 
 wide cellar-door, great bins had been filled with rosy apples 
 and with brown-coated potatoes, and golden pumpkins and 
 great crook-neck squashes had been piled up for Thanks 
 giving pies; and now it was time to shut the great doors, 
 and to " bank up " with straw and leaves and earth all 
 round the house, lest sharp-eyed Mr. Jack Frost should 
 get in a finger or a toe, and so find a way into the trea 
 sures of the cellar. For a very sharp fellow is this Mr. 
 Jack, and he always has his eyes open to see whether lazy 
 people have left anything without proper care; and where 
 he finds even a chink not stopped, he says, "Ha, ha! I 
 guess I 11 get in here; " and in he goes, and then people 
 may whistle for their apples and potatoes. But Pussy s 
 
176 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 folks were smart, careful people, and everything was snugly 
 stowed and protected, you may be sure. 
 
 By and by the sun took to getting up later and later, 
 setting a dreadfully bad example, it is to be confessed. 
 It would be seven o clock and after before he would show 
 his red face above the bedclothes of clouds, away off in 
 the southeast; and when he did manage to get up, he was 
 so far off and so chilly in his demeanor, that people seemed 
 scarcely a bit the better for him; and by half past four in 
 the afternoon he was down in bed again, tucked up for the 
 night, never caring what became of the world. And so 
 the clouds were full of snow, as if a thousand white 
 feather-beds had been ripped up over the world; and all 
 the frisky winds came out of their dens, and great frolics 
 they had, blowing and roaring and careering in the clouds, 
 now bellowing down between the mountains, as if they 
 meant to tear the world to pieces, then piping high and 
 shrill, first round one corner of the farmhouse, and then 
 round the other, rattling the windows, bouncing against 
 the doors, and then, with one united chorus, rumbling, 
 tumbling down the great chimney, as if they had a mind 
 to upset it. Oh, what a frisky, rough, jolly, unmannerly 
 set of winds they were! By and by the snow drifted 
 higher than the fences, and nothing was to be seen around 
 the farmhouse but smooth waving hills and hollows of 
 snow; and then came the rain and sleet, and froze them 
 over with a slippery shining crust, that looked as if the 
 earth was dressed for the winter in a silver coat of mail. 
 
 Now I suppose some of my little girls will say, "Pussy 
 never can go two miles to the Academy through all the 
 cold and snow and sleet." But Pussy did, for all that. 
 
 She laughed a gay laugh when her mother said it would 
 be best to wait till spring before she went any more. " I 
 wait till spring? What for? What do I care for cold 
 and snow ? I like them : I m a real snow-bird, my 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 177 
 
 blood races and bounds so in cold weather that I like 
 nothing better than being out. As to the days being 
 short, there are just as many hours in them as there were 
 before, and there s no need of my lying in bed because the 
 sun does." And so at half past five every morning you 
 might have heard Pussy bestirring herself in her room, 
 and afterwards in the kitchen, getting breakfast, and sing 
 ing louder than the tea-kettle on the stove, as she drove 
 her morning s work before her; and by eight o clock 
 Pussy s breakfast was over, and the breakfast-dishes 
 washed and put away, and Pussy gathered her books under 
 her arm, and took her little sled in her hand, and started 
 for school. 
 
 This sled her brothers had made for her in the evenings, 
 and it was as smart a little sled as ever you saw going. 
 It was painted red, and had " Snow-Bird " lettered on it 
 in black letters. Pussy was proud of its speed; and well 
 she might be, for when she came to the top of the long, 
 stony hill on which the house stood, she just got on to 
 her little sled, took her books in her lap, and away she 
 flew, past the pastures, by the barn, across the plain 
 below, across the brook, almost half a mile of her way 
 done in a minute; and then she would spring off and 
 laugh, and draw her sled to the next hill, and away she 
 would go again. The sled was a great help to Pussy, and 
 got her on her way famously; but then she had other 
 helps, for she was such a favorite in school that there was 
 always one boy or another who came to meet her, and 
 drew her on his sled at least half-way to school. There 
 were two or three boys that used to quarrel with each 
 other as to which should have the privilege of drawing 
 Pussy from the chestnut pasture to the school-house, and 
 he was reckoned the best fellow who got there first; while 
 more than once, after school, little Miss Pussy rode the 
 whole way home to her father s on the sled of some boy 
 
178 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 who liked her blue eyes and felt the charm of her merry 
 laugh. You may be sure Pussy always found company, 
 and she used to say that she really could n t tell which she 
 liked best, summer or winter. In summer, to be sure, 
 there were the pretty flowers and the birds; but in winter 
 there were the sleds and sliding, and that was such fun ! 
 
 In winter evenings, sometimes, when the moon shone 
 clear, whole parties of boys and girls would get an old 
 sleigh-bottom, and come to the farmhouse, and then Pussy 
 would get on her hood and mittens, and out they would 
 all go and get on the sleigh-bottom together. There were 
 Tom Evans and his sister Betsey, and Jim Styles, and 
 Almira and Susan Jenkins, and Bet Jenkins, and Mary 
 Stephens, and Jack Stephens, and nobody knows how 
 many more, all piled on together, and holding as tight as 
 they could; and away they would go, down the smooth, 
 white hill, and across the shining silvery plain, screaming 
 and laughing, like a streak of merriment; and the old 
 sober moon, as she looked down through the deep blue 
 sky, never said a word against it, or hushed them up, for 
 making too much noise. 
 
 Ah, it was splendid fun! and even when they stamped 
 their feet, and blew their hands for cold, not one of them 
 would hear of going in till nine o clock; and then they all 
 got round the stove, and ate apples and cracked nuts for 
 half an hour more, and then went off home to be in bed 
 by ten o clock, so that they might all be up early the next 
 day. 
 
 Another of the good times Pussy used to have was at 
 a candy frolic. When the weather was at the coldest, and 
 the frost so severe that everything really snapped, then 
 was the time to make candy. Then Pussy s mother 
 would put on a couple of quarts of molasses to boil in the 
 afternoon, while Pussy was at school, so that the candy 
 would be almost made by evening. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 179 
 
 In the evening, when the supper-dishes were cleared 
 off, you would hear them all trooping in, and a noisy, 
 happy time they had of it, trying the candy, pulling 
 little bits of it out in tea- cups and plates and saucers, to 
 see if it was done hard enough to pull. Finally the whole 
 dark, smooth, ropy liquid was poured out from the kettle 
 into a well-greased platter, and set out in a snow-bank to 
 cool; and then all the hands were washed and greased, to 
 begin the pulling. 
 
 Ah! then what sport, as each one took a share of the 
 black-looking candy, and began pulling it out, and watch 
 ing the gold threads come out as they worked and doubled 
 and turned and twisted, till at last the candy grew bright 
 amber-color, and then a creamy white, and, when finally 
 hardened by setting it out again in the snow, would snap 
 with a delicious, brittle crispness most delightful to see! 
 How jolly were the whole party after this gay evening, as 
 each wended his way home over the crisp sparkling snow, 
 with a portion of candy-sticks, and what talking there 
 was in school next day, and what a going over of the jokes 
 of last evening, and how every latch of every door in 
 all the houses round had molasses-candy on it for a week 
 after, are all things that my little readers who have 
 ever given candy frolics will not need to have told them. 
 
 What I hay? said will be enough to show you that 
 Pussy made a merry time of winter no less than summer. 
 
VIII 
 
 LITTLE Pussy went on in the sort of life we have 
 described two or three years longer, helping her mother at 
 home, and going across the lots and through the woods to 
 the distant Academy; and gradually she grew taller and 
 larger, till one day her father woke up and said to her 
 mother, "Wife, our Pussy is growing into a real handsome 
 little woman. 57 
 
 Now Pussy heard the remark as she was moulding up 
 some little biscuit in the next room, and she smiled to 
 herself. "Am~L pretty, I wonder?" she said to herself. 
 So that evening she strolled down into the meadow, where 
 the brook spread out in one place into a perfect little look 
 ing-glass, set in a green enameled frame of moss and 
 violets and waving feathers of fern-leaves. Here she sat 
 down on the bank, and began to consider herself in the 
 water. Looking in, she saw a pair of eyes just the color 
 of the blue violets which were fringing the bank, a pair 
 of rosy cheeks, a fair, white forehead, and some long curls 
 of brown hair. Pussy considered awhile, and then she 
 gathered some violets and crowsfoot, and drooping meadow- 
 grasses, and wove them into a garland, and put it on her 
 head, and peeped into the brook again to see how it 
 looked. 
 
 "She is pretty," said old Mother Fern to Miss Hepatica. 
 " She is pretty, and she has come now to the time when 
 she may as well know it. She will begin now to dress 
 herself, and brush out her feathers, as the bluebirds and 
 robins do in the spring-time." 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 181 
 
 Pussy walked home with the garland on her head, and 
 at the door she met her father. 
 
 " Why, how now ? " he said. " You look as your 
 mother used to when I went a-courtin . Girls always get 
 the knack of fixin up when their time comes." 
 
 And that night the father said to the mother, " I say, 
 wife, you must get Pussy a new bonnet." 
 
 "I ve heen braiding the straw for one all winter," said 
 the wife. "Last fall we picked and sorted the straw, and 
 got the very nicest, and I have enough now done to make 
 a nice straw hat. I will soon have it sewed, and then 
 when you drive over to Elverton, you can get it pressed 
 in Josiah s bonnet factory." 
 
 "And I 11 buy her a ribbon myself," said the father. 
 
 "No, no, father; after all, it would be better to let me 
 have the wagon and the old horse, and take her over to 
 Worcester to choose for herself. Girls have their own 
 notions. " 
 
 "Well, perhaps that ere s the best way, mother. I 
 tell you what, that child has been a treasure to us, and 
 I would n t stand for expense; get her a new gown too. 
 I won t stand for money. If you have to spend ten dol 
 lars, I wouldn t mind it, to have her dressed up as hand 
 some as any gal that sits in the singers seats on Sunday." 
 
 What would little Emily Proudie have thought of a 
 spring outfit that could be got for ten dollars? One of 
 her dresses was trimmed with velvet that cost thirty dol 
 lars, and Emily cried when it was brought home because 
 it was the wrong shade of color, and sent it back to 
 Madame Tulleruche, to have all the velvet ripped off, and 
 thirty dollars worth of another shade put on. But what 
 did she know or care how much it cost? 
 
 The next morning, after the worthy couple had arranged 
 for Pussy s spring prospects, her father was so full of the 
 subject that he could not forbear opening it to her at once. 
 
182 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 So at breakfast he pulled forth a great leather pocket-book, 
 out of which he took a new ten-dollar bill, which he laid 
 on Pussy s plate. 
 
 " Why, father, what is this ? " said Pussy. 
 
 "Well, I noticed last night how pretty you looked with 
 your posies on, and I told your mother the time was come 
 when you d be a-wantin folderols and such like, as 
 girls ought to have when they come to the right age; and, 
 as you ve been always a good daughter, and never thought 
 of yourself, why, we must think for you; and so there 
 tis. Get yourself any bit of finery you want with it. 
 I don t grudge it." 
 
 Now Pussy had never in her life had a dollar of her 
 own before, and if, instead of ten dollars, it had been ten 
 thousand, she could scarcely have been more delighted. 
 She laughed and cried and jumped for joy, and she and 
 her mother calculated over and over again how this large 
 sum should be invested. Pussy insisted that half of 
 it should be spent for mother; but mother very firmly 
 insisted that every bit of it should go to Pussy s spring 
 outfit. 
 
 "Let her have her way, child," said the father. 
 "Don t you see that you are herself over again? She has 
 her young days again in dressing you." 
 
 And so the straw braid was sewed into a little flat straw 
 hat; and the straw was so white and delicate, and the 
 braid so fine, that all the gossips round about said that the 
 like of it had never been seen in those parts. And when 
 she sent it over to the bonnet factory at Elverton, Josiah 
 Stebbins who was at the head of the factory, and was a 
 cousin of Pussy s mother, and, some say, an old sweetheart 
 too he put the precious little hat through all the proper 
 processes, and delivered it at last, safe and shining, to her, 
 and would not take a cent in pay; so that there was 
 Pussy s little fortune still untouched. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 183 
 
 Then they had a glorious day, going over to Worcester, 
 shopping. They had a friend in town with whom they 
 could stay over night ; and so, though it was a good twenty 
 miles drive, they did not mind it. 
 
 There they bought a white camhric dress, and a blue 
 ribbon, and a wreath of lovely white daisies, mixed with 
 meadow-grass, which the shopman said had been made in 
 Paris. Pussy wondered in her heart how Paris milliners 
 could know so exactly how meadow-flowers looked. The 
 young man at first asked so much for the wreath that 
 Pussy quite despaired of being able to get it; but when he 
 saw the blue eyes fixed so longingly on it, and noticed the 
 pretty light on her curls as she turned her head in the 
 sunshine, somehow he began (like a great many other 
 young men) to wish that a pretty girl could have her own 
 way; so finally he fumbled at the lid of the box, and 
 looked at the price-mark, and said that it was the last of 
 the set, and that they were closing out the stock, and 
 ended by letting her have it for just half the price he 
 originally asked. So Pussy returned home the next day 
 delighted, with what seemed to her a whole wardrobe of 
 beautiful things. 
 
 Very fast flew her little fingers as she fixed the wreath 
 of daisies and meadow-grass around the shining crown of 
 the delicate straw hat, and then tied it with long strings 
 of blue ribbon, and found, to her delight, that there was 
 enough still remaining to make a sash to her white dress. 
 
 Her mother fitted the dress, and Pussy sewed it; and 
 the next Sunday Pussy s father took her to church with 
 a delighted heart. He was observed to keep wide awake 
 all sermon-time, staring straight up into the front gallery, 
 where Pussy sat in the singers seats, with her pink 
 cheeks, her blue eyes and blue ribbons, and nodding wreath 
 of daisies and meadow-grass. He disturbed his wife s 
 devotion several times while the choir were singing, 
 
184: LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 "While the lamp. holds out to burn, 
 The vilest sinner may return," 
 
 with his "Mother! mother I" (with a poke of the elhow.) 
 
 "What is it, father?" 
 
 "Do look up at her." 
 
 "I have looked." 
 
 "But, mother," (another poke,) "isn t she the prettiest 
 girl you ever saw ? " 
 
 "Father, dear, don t talk now." 
 
 "I declare," said the father, as they were driving home, 
 "I don t grudge that ere ten dollars one grain." 
 
IX 
 
 AND so it became an established fact that our little 
 Pussy Willow was very pretty to look at, as well as good 
 for use. Now, for our part, we are not of the class of 
 those who think it is no sort of matter how one looks if 
 one is only good. Our kind Father in heaven has set us 
 the example of making all his useful works ornamental. A 
 peach-tree might have been made to bear good peaches 
 without having any ornament about it; in fact, peaches 
 might have been made just as they come into market, in 
 rough bushel-baskets; but, instead of that, only see the 
 beauty that is lavished on a peach-tree ! There is no flow 
 ering shrub that one can get for one s front door-yard that 
 is more beautiful. There is, first, the beauty of its long, 
 narrow green leaf, which grows with so rich a luxuriance, 
 and then the beauty of its lovely pink blossoms, and after 
 that the charming velvet peach, colored -so beautifully with 
 a rosy bloom on one side. And so, in the same manner, 
 apple and pear-trees are in the spring of the year covered 
 with the most delicate and delicious flowers. Now, as not 
 more than one in a dozen of these thousands of blossoms 
 ever sets for fruit, it is plain that our good Father meant 
 them for ornament alone. 
 
 And so the impulse which makes men and women wish 
 to ornament the houses they live in, and to wear delicate 
 and beautiful clothing, is quite in agreement with the 
 will of our great Creator, who has made everything beauti 
 ful in its season. 
 
186 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 So that when our little Pussy, on Sunday morning, felt 
 such pleasure in tying on her pretty, fair straw hat, 
 crowned with nodding daisies and meadow-grasses, she was 
 just as good a little Christian as she was when she was 
 getting breakfast and helping her mother about the daily 
 work, or reciting her lesson in the Bible class at her Sun 
 day school. 
 
 It is not wrong for you, my little girl who reads this, 
 to wish to look pretty, any more than it is wrong to wish 
 to be good; and it is not in the least true that it is of no 
 sort of importance how you look if you are only good. 
 It is true, though, that it is a great deal more really beau 
 tiful to be good than to have a pretty face, or be well 
 dressed. Think this over by yourself, and see if you do 
 not find it so. If you have two schoolmates, one of whom 
 is very pretty and wears the prettiest of clothes, and the 
 other of whom is plain, and wears very plain clothes, at 
 first you like the pretty one the best. But if she is ill- 
 tempered and cross, if she frowns and scolds and is dis 
 obliging, by and by she really begins to look homely to 
 you. And if your plain friend is always bright and cheer 
 ful and good-tempered and ready to oblige you, you begin 
 to think her quite pretty; she looks pretty to you because 
 you love her. 
 
 Now the great trouble about girls and women is, not 
 that they think too much of outside beauty, but that they 
 do not think enough of inside beauty. If Pussy thought 
 of nothing but how to dress herself, if her whole mind 
 were taken up with thoughts about her clothes, she would 
 be on the way to lose what is her best beauty, and her 
 most lasting one, that is, her unselfish and sweet dispo 
 sition. 
 
 So there is not the least harm, also, in loving to be 
 admired, especially if you prefer the admiration of your 
 own dear, true friends to that of strangers. There are 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 187 
 
 some young girls who do not care how they look at home, 
 who do not care that their fathers and mothers and brothers 
 should see them with tumbled and torn dresses, and rough 
 hair, while they will spend hours and hours in getting 
 ready to shine in some party or ball. But our little Pussy 
 was delighted to have her mother pleased, and her father 
 happy, and to see that her brothers were proud of her. 
 She looked at herself in the glass when she came home 
 from church, and saw that she was very pretty, and 
 thanked her Heavenly Father for it, and thought what a 
 good girl she must try to be to those dear parents who 
 loved her so dearly. 
 
 She felt as if ten dollars spent on her dress was almost 
 an extravagant sum, but thought she would try to make it 
 up by being very industrious and economical; and she 
 began directly to be very busy, in secret, braiding straw 
 to make her mother a bonnet that should be even finer 
 and nicer than her own. She had learned so well that she 
 could braid straw while she was reading or studying, and 
 her little fingers were never idle, even while her mind was 
 away on other things. 
 
 The love of beauty did not stop with her own dress. 
 She began to consider what could be done to make their 
 home attractive. There had been always a best room at 
 the farmhouse, but it had been rather a bare place. Not 
 one of the thousand little pretty things and knick-knacks 
 which dress up modern parlors could they have at the 
 farmhouse. The floor had not even a carpet, but was 
 covered with clean white sand, crinkled with great art and 
 care, so as to resemble the rippled sand on the sea-beach. 
 
 But Pussy set her eyes on this room, and resolved to 
 make it pretty. First she persuaded her mother to let her 
 open the windows and take away some heavy, dark paper 
 curtains, so that the bright light of the sun might be let 
 in. Then she searched the buffet, in the corner of the 
 
188 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 best room, and found there an old India china bowl that 
 belonged to her mother s wedding tea-set, and this she 
 set upon the table and kept constantly full of mignonette 
 and other sweet flowers that perfumed the air of the room. 
 Then she arranged mosses and ferns in various little fanciful 
 plots upon various dishes and plates. Her brothers, seeing 
 her object, lent her the aid of their strong arms, and dug 
 up for her roots of plumy ferns, which they brought home 
 all waving with their great fan-like leaves, and planted for 
 her in the lower half of a cask which they sawed in two 
 for the purpose. This was set in the fireplace, and then 
 Pussy busied herself in covering the sides of the cask with 
 green moss. The looking-glass she ornamented with 
 wreaths of evergreen, intermingled with the long gray moss 
 that grew on the boughs of pine-trees, and brightened by 
 red berries. In short, after a while the little parlor looked 
 like some of those quaint mossy bowers in the woods, 
 where one loves to sit and enjoy the sunshine. 
 
 There were tall, climbing rose-bushes which grew up 
 over the window and looked in with a hundred rosy, in 
 quiring faces, all through the month of June ; and by the 
 time the roses had passed away, there were morning-glories 
 planted at the roots of the bushes which kept up a con 
 stant succession of bright blossoms through the summer. 
 
 Pussy had induced her brother to make her a rough 
 frame for a lounge, which she cushioned and stuffed, and 
 then covered with a pretty, neat green chintz. A couple 
 of rough boxes, cushioned and covered with the same 
 material, made a pair of ottomans to match this lounge; 
 and the room really began to wear quite an inviting appear 
 ance. 
 
 Pussy had persuaded her father to allow her the milk 
 of one cow, which he cheerfully did, for he knew she was 
 a deft little dairy-maid. Pussy was happy and busy 
 enough taking charge of Clover, for so her cow was 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 189 
 
 called. She prepared a breakfast for her every morning 
 with her own hands, and Clover would come up and stand 
 with her head over the fence waiting for it. Pussy would 
 stroke her head, and pat her, and talk to her, and tell her 
 that she must try and he a good cow, and give her a plenty 
 of milk to make butter of; and Clover would look at her 
 attentively out of her great, clear, soft eyes, where you 
 could see the shadow of the lashes just as you can see the 
 rushes in a brook. The fact is, Pussy grew so fond of 
 Clover that she spent a great deal of time petting her. 
 Clover learned some of the arts of civilized life with great 
 rapidity; she would eat cake and gingerbread and apples 
 out of Pussy s hand, and Pussy would sometimes put a 
 wreath of buttercups and daisies round her horns, and 
 lead her by one horn to look at herself in the brook, and 
 see how she liked herself. What Clover thought of all 
 this she never mentioned; but she showed her regard for 
 her young mistress in the best way that a cow could devise, 
 by giving the most uncommon quantity of nice rich milk. 
 And then Pussy s brothers went to work and built a milk- 
 room out in the pasture directly over the brook, so that 
 the little stream pattered directly through it; and here 
 Pussy s pans of milk were set to raise their cream, and 
 here was her seat when she used to churn and work her 
 butter. Pussy s butter became quite celebrated in the 
 neighborhood, and sold for an extra price, and Pussy 
 counted the money with a glad heart. In six months she 
 had saved enough to buy a neat little shelf of books to put 
 in the parlor; and many and many a happy hour at home 
 grew out of that shelf of books. No ornament of a house 
 can compare with books; they are constant company in 
 a room, even when you are not reading them. 
 
 Pussy used sometimes to take a book out and show it 
 to Clover, and say, "Thank you for this, dear Clover," 
 all which Clover accepted in perfect serenity. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY had now grown up to be quite a young 
 woman. She was sixteen years old, tall of her age, and 
 everybody said that, though she was n t handsome, she was 
 a pretty girl. She looked so open-hearted and kind and 
 obliging, she was always so gay and chatty and full of 
 good spirits, so bright and active and busy, that she 
 was the very life and soul of all that was going on for 
 miles around. 
 
 Little Emily Proudie was also sixteen, and everybody 
 said she was one of the most perfectly elegant girls that 
 walked the streets of New York. Everybody spoke of the 
 fine style of her dress; and all that she wore, and all she 
 said and did, were considered to be the height of fashion. 
 Nevertheless, this poor Emily was wretchedly unhappy, 
 was getting every day pale and thin, and her heart beat 
 so fast every time she went up stairs that all the household 
 were frightened about her, and she was frightened herself. 
 She spent hours in crying, she suffered from a depression 
 of spirits that no money could buy any relief from, and 
 her mother and aunts and grandmothers were all alarmed, 
 and called in the doctors far and near, and had solemn 
 consultations, and in fact, according to the family view, 
 the whole course of society seemed to turn on Emily s 
 health. They were willing to found a water-cure, to 
 hire a doctor on purpose, to try homoeopathy or hydro 
 pathy, or allopathy, or any other pathy that ever was 
 heard of, if their dear elegant Emily could only be 
 restored. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 191 
 
 "It is her sensitive nature that wears upon her," said 
 her mamma. "She was never made for this world; she 
 has an exquisiteness of perception which makes her feel 
 even the creases in a rose-leaf." 
 
 "Stuff and folderol, my dear madam," said old Dr. 
 Hardhack, when the mamma had told him this with tears 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Now Dr. Hardhack was the nineteenth physician that 
 had been called in to dear Emily, and just about this 
 time it was quite the rage in the fashionable world to run 
 after Dr. Hardhack, principally because he was a plain, 
 hard-spoken old man, with manners so very different from 
 the smooth politeness of ordinary doctors that people 
 thought he must have an uncommon deal of power about 
 him to dare to be so very free and easy in his language to 
 grand people. 
 
 So this Dr. Hardhack surveyed the elegant Emily 
 through his large glasses, and said, "Hum! a fashionable 
 potato-sprout ! grown in a cellar ! not a drop of red 
 blood in her veins ! " 
 
 "What odd ways he has, to be sure!" said the grand 
 mamma to the mamma; "but then it s the way he talks 
 to everybody." 
 
 "My dear madam," said the Doctor to her mother, 
 "you have tried to make a girl out of loaf-sugar and 
 almond paste, and now you are distressed that she has not 
 red blood in her veins, that her lungs gasp and flutter 
 when she goes up stairs. Turn her out to grass, my dear 
 madam ; send her to old Mother Nature to nurse ; stop her 
 parties and her dancing and her music, and take off the 
 corsets and strings round her lungs, and send her some 
 where to a good honest farmhouse in the hills, and let her 
 run barefoot in the morning dew, drink new milk from the 
 cow, romp in a good wide barn, learn to hunt hens eggs, 
 I 11 warrant me you 11 see another pair of cheeks in a 
 
192 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 year. Medicine won t do her any good; you may make 
 an apothecary s shop of her stomach, and matters will be 
 only the worse. Why, there isn t iron enough in her 
 blood to make a cambric needle ! " 
 
 "Iron in her blood!" said mamma; " I never heard the 
 like." 
 
 " Yes, iron, red particles, globules, or whatever you 
 please to call them. Her blood is all water and lymph, 
 and that is why her cheeks and lips look so like a cambric 
 handkerchief, why she pants and puffs if she goes up 
 stairs. Her heart is well enough, if there were only blood 
 to work in it; but it sucks and wheezes like a dry pump 
 for want of vital fluid. She must have more blood, 
 madam, and Nature must make it for her. 7 
 
 "We were thinking of going to Newport, Doctor." 
 
 "Yes, to Newport, to a ball every night, and a flurry 
 of dressing and flirtation every morning. No such thing! 
 Send her to a lonesome, unfashionable old farmhouse, 
 where there was never a more exciting party than a quilt- 
 ing-frolic heard of. Let her learn the difference between 
 huckleberries and blackberries, learn where checkerber- 
 ries grow thickest, and dig up sweet-flag root with her 
 own hands, as country children do. It would do her good 
 to plant a few hills of potatoes, and hoe them herself, as 
 I once heard of a royal princess doing, because queens can 
 afford to be sensible in bringing up their daughters." 
 
 Now Emily s mamma and grandmamma and aunts, and 
 all the rest of them, concluded that Dr. Hardback was a 
 very funny, odd old fellow, and, as he was very despotic 
 and arbitrary, they set about immediately inquiring for a 
 nice, neat farmhouse where the Doctor s orders could be 
 obeyed; and, curiously enough, they fixed on the very 
 place where our Pussy lived; and so the two girls came 
 together, and were introduced to each other, after having 
 lived each sixteen years in this world of ours in such very 
 different circumstances. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 193 
 
 It was quite an event, I assure you, at the simple little 
 farmhouse, when one day a handsome traveling-carriage 
 drove up to the door, and a lady and gentleman alighted and 
 inquired if they were willing to take summer boarders. 
 
 "Indeed," said Pussy s mother, "we have never done 
 such a thing, or thought of it. I don t know what to say 
 till I ask my husband." 
 
 "My daughter is a great invalid," said the lady, "and 
 the Doctor has recommended country air for her." 
 
 "I m afraid it would be too dull here to suit her," said 
 Pussy s mother. 
 
 "That is the very thing the Doctor requires," said 
 Emily s mother. "My daughter s nerves are too excitable, 
 she requires perfect quiet and repose." 
 
 " What is the matter with your daughter ? " said Mary 
 Primrose. 
 
 "Well, she is extremely delicate; she suffers from pal 
 pitations of the heart; she can t go up stairs, even, or 
 make the smallest exertion, without bringing on dreadful 
 turns of fluttering and faintness." 
 
 "I m afraid," said Mrs. Primrose, "we should not be 
 able to wait on her as she would need. We keep no ser 
 vants." 
 
 "We would be willing to pay well for it," said Emily s 
 mother. "Money is no object with us." 
 
 "Mother, do let her come," said Pussy, who had stolen 
 in and stood at the back of her mother s chair. "I want 
 her to get well, and I 11 wait on her. I m never tired, 
 and could do twice as much as I do any day." 
 
 "What a healthy-looking daughter you have!" said 
 Emily s mother, surveying her with a look of admiration. 
 
 "Well," said Pussy s mother, "if she thinks best, I 
 think we will try to do it; for about everything on our 
 place goes as she says, and she has the care of everything." 
 
 And so it was arranged that the next week the new 
 boarder was to come. 
 
XI 
 
 AND so it was settled that our elegant young friend, 
 Miss Emily Proudie, was to go and stay at the farmhouse 
 with Pussy Willow. Dr. Hardback came in to give his 
 last directions, in the presence of grandmamma and the 
 aunts and mamma, who all sat in an anxious circle. 
 
 "Do pray, dear Dr. Hardback, tell us just how she 
 must be dressed for that cold mountain region. Must she 
 have high-necked, long-sleeved flannels ? " said mamma. 
 
 "I will make her half a dozen at once," chimed in 
 Aunt Maria. 
 
 "Not so fast," said Dr. Hardback. "Let s see about 
 this young lady," and with that Dr. Hardback endeavored 
 to introduce his forefinger under the belt of Miss Emily s 
 dress. 
 
 Now the Doctor s forefinger being a stout one, and Miss 
 Emily s belt ribbon being drawn very snugly round her, 
 the belt ribbon gave a smart snap, and the Doctor drew 
 out his finger with a jerk. "I thought so," he said. "I 
 supposed that there was n t much breathing room allowed 
 behind there." 
 
 "Oh, I do assure you, Doctor, Emily never dresses 
 tight," said her mother. 
 
 "No indeed! " said little Miss Emily. "I despise tight 
 lacing. I never wear my clothes any more than just com 
 fortable." 
 
 " Never saw a woman that did, " said the Doctor. " The 
 courage and constancy of the female sex in bearing incon 
 veniences is so great, however, that that will be no test at 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 195 
 
 all. Why, if you should catch a fellow, and gird his ribs 
 in as Miss Emily wears hers all the time, he d roar like 
 a bull of Bashan. You wouldn t catch a man saying he 
 felt comfortable under such circumstances ; but only 
 persuade a girl that she looks stylish and fashionable with 
 her waist drawn in, and you may screw and screw till the 
 very life leaves her, and with her dying breath she will 
 tell you that it is nothing more than comfortable. So, 
 my young lady, you don t catch me in that way. You 
 must leave off belts and tight waists of all sorts for six 
 months at least, and wear only loose sacks, or thingum 
 bobs, whatever you call em, so that your lungs may 
 have some chance to play, and fill with the vital air I m 
 going to send you to breathe up in the hills. " 
 
 "But, Doctor, I don t believe I could hold myself up 
 without corsets," said Miss Emily. "When I sit up in 
 a loose dress, I feel so weak I hardly know what to do. 
 I need the support of something around me." 
 
 "My good child, that is because all those nice strong 
 muscles around your waist, which Nature gave you to hold 
 you up, have been bound down and bandaged and flattened 
 till they have no strength in them. Muscles are nourished 
 and strengthened by having blood carried to them; if you 
 squeeze a muscle down flat under a bandage, there is no 
 room for blood to get into it and nourish it, and it grows 
 weak and perishes. 
 
 "Now look there," said the Doctor, pointing with his 
 cane to the waist of a bronze Venus which adorned the 
 mantle-piece, " look at that great wide waist, look at 
 those full muscles over the ribs that moved that lady s 
 breathing apparatus. Do you think a woman with a waist 
 like that would be unable to get up stairs without fainting ? 
 That was the idea the old Greeks had of a Goddess, a 
 great, splendid woman, with plenty of room inside of her 
 to breathe, and to kindle warm vital blood which should 
 
196 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 go all over her with, a glow of health and cheerfulness, 
 not a wasp waist, coming to a point and ready to break in 
 two in the middle. 
 
 "Now just there, under Miss Emily s belt, is the place 
 where Nature is trying to manufacture all the blood which 
 is necessary to keep her brain, stomach, head, hands, and 
 feet in good condition, and precious little room she gets 
 to do it in. She is in fact so cooped up and hindered, 
 that the blood she makes is very little in quantity and 
 extremely poor in quality; and so she has lips as white as 
 a towel, cheeks like blanched celery, and headaches, and 
 indigestion, and palpitations of the heart, and cold hands, 
 and cold feet, and forty more things that people have when 
 there is not enough blood to keep their systems going. 
 
 "Why, look here," said the Doctor, whirling round and 
 seizing Miss Emily s sponge off the wash-stand, "your 
 lungs are something like this, and every time that you take 
 in a breath they ought to swell out to their full size, so 
 that the air that you take in shall purify your blood and 
 change it from black blood to red blood. It s this change 
 in your lungs that makes the blood fit to nourish the 
 whole of the rest of your body. Now see here," said the 
 Doctor, squeezing the sponge tight in his great hand, 
 "here s what your corsets and your belt ribbons do, 
 they keep the air-vessels of your lungs matted together 
 like this, so that the air and the blood can hardly get 
 together at all, and consequently it is impure. Don t you 
 
 "Well, Doctor," said Emily, who began to be frightened 
 at this, "do you suppose if I should dress as you tell me 
 for six months my blood would come right again ? " 
 
 "It would go a long way towards it, my little maid," 
 said the Doctor. "You fashionable girls are not good for 
 much, to be sure; but yet if a doctor gets a chance to save 
 one of you in the way of business, he can t help wishing 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 197 
 
 to do it. So, my dear, I just give you your choice. You 
 can have a fine, nice, taper little body, with all sorts of 
 pretty little waists and jackets and thingumies fitting with 
 out a wrinkle about it, and be pale and skinny, with an 
 unhealthy complexion, low spirits, indigestion, and all 
 that sort of thing; or you can have a good, broad, free 
 waist, with good strong muscles like the Venus up there, 
 and have red lips and cheeks, a good digestion, and cheer 
 ful spirits, and be able to run, frisk, jump, and take some 
 comfort in life. Which would you prefer now ? " 
 
 "Of course I would like to be well," said Emily; "and 
 in the country up there nobody will see me, and it s no 
 matter how I look." 
 
 "To be sure, it s no matter," chimed in Emily s 
 mamma. " Only get your health, my dear, and afterwards 
 we will see." 
 
 And so, a week afterwards, an elegant traveling-carriage 
 drew up before the door of the house where Pussy s mother 
 lived, and in the carriage were a great many bolsters and 
 pillows, and all sorts of knick-knacks and conveniences, 
 such as sick young ladies use, and little Emily was brought 
 out of the carriage, looking very much like a wilted lily, 
 and laid on the bed up stairs in a chamber that Pussy had 
 been for some time busy in fitting up and adorning for 
 her. 
 
 And now, while she is getting rested, we will tell you 
 all about this same chamber. When Pussy first took it in 
 hand it was as plain and dingy a little country room as 
 ever you saw, and she was very much dismayed at the 
 thought of putting a genteel New York young lady in it. 
 
 But Pussy one day drove to the neighboring town and 
 sold her butter, and invested the money she got for it, 
 first in a very pretty delicate-tinted wall-paper and some 
 white cotton, and some very pretty blue bordering. Then 
 the next day she pressed one of her brothers into the ser- 
 
198 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 vice, and cut and measured the wall-paper, and contrived 
 the breadths, and made the paste, and put it on the paper 
 as handily as if she had been brought up to the trade, 
 while her brother mounted on a table and put the strips 
 upon the wall, and Pussy stroked down each breadth with 
 a nice white cloth. Then they finished all by putting 
 round the ceiling a bordering of flowers, which gave it 
 quite an air. It took them a whole day to do it, but the 
 room looked wonderfully different after it was done. 
 
 Then Pussy got her brother to make cornices to the 
 windows, which she covered with bordering like that on 
 the walls, and then she made full white curtains, and bor 
 dered them with strips of the blue calico ; she also made 
 a bedspread to match. There was a wide-armed old rock 
 ing-chair with a high back, that had rather a forlorn 
 appearance, as some of its slats were broken, and the paint 
 wholly rubbed off, but Pussy took it in band, and padded 
 and stuffed it, and covered it with a white, blue-bordered 
 dress, till it is doubtful whether the chair would have 
 known itself if it could have looked in the glass. 
 
 Then she got her brother to saw out for her a piece of 
 rough board in an oblong octagon shape, and put four legs 
 to it; and out of this foundation she made the prettiest 
 toilet-table you can imagine. The top was stuffed like a 
 large cushion, and covered with white, and an ample flow 
 ing skirt of white, bordered with blue, like the bedspread 
 and window- curtains, completed the table. Over this 
 hung a looking-glass whose frame had become very much 
 tarnished by time, and so Pussy very wisely concealed it 
 by looping around it the folds of some thin white muslin 
 that had once been her mother s wedding-dress, but was 
 now too old and tender for any other usage than just to be 
 draped round a mirror. Pussy arranged it quite gracefully, 
 and fastened it at the top and sides with some smart bows 
 of blue ribbon, and it really looked quite as if a French 
 milliner had been at it. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 199 
 
 Then beside this, there was a cunning little hour-glass 
 stand, which she made for the head of the bed out of two 
 old dilapidated spinning-wheels, and which, covered with 
 white like the rest, made a handy little bit of furniture. 
 Then Pussy had arranged vases of blue violets and apple- 
 blossoms here and there, and put some of her prettiest 
 books in the room, and hung up one or two pictures which 
 she had framed very cleverly in rustic frames, and on the 
 whole the room was made so sweet and inviting that, when 
 Emily first looked around it, she said two or three times, 
 "How nice! How very pretty it is! I think I shall like 
 to be here." 
 
 Those words were enough to pay Pussy for all her 
 trouble. " Oh, mother, I am so sorry for her ! " she said, 
 rushing down stairs; "and I m so glad she likes it! To 
 think of her being so weak, and I so strong, and we just 
 of an age ! I feel as if I could n t do too much for her." 
 
 And what the girls did together we will tell you by and 
 
XII 
 
 WE left little Miss Emily Proudie lying like a broken 
 lily, stretched out on the white bed that Pussy Willow 
 had made for her, where, tired with her day s ride, she 
 slept soundly. 
 
 Dr. Hardback had been very positive in saying that 
 neither her mother nor any of her aunts, nor indeed any 
 attendant who had taken care of her in New York, should 
 have anything to do with her in her new abode. " She is 
 to break all old associations," he said, "and wake up to 
 a new life. I can t answer for her health if you give her 
 even a servant that she has had before. Engage some 
 good, wholesome country-girl for a companion for her, and 
 some good farmer s wife to overlook her, and turn her out 
 into a nice, wide old barn, and let her lie on the hay, and 
 keep company with the cows," he went on. "Nature will 
 take care of her, only give her a chance. " 
 
 About five o clock the next morning, Emily was wak 
 ened by a bustle in the house. What could be the matter ? 
 she thought, there was such a commotion on the stairs. 
 It was, however, only the men folk of the household going 
 down to their breakfast ; and Pussy and her mother had been 
 up long before, in time to get the corn-cake baked, and 
 coffee made, and everything ready for them. 
 
 Then there began to come up into the windows such a 
 sound of cackling and lowing and bleating, as the sheep 
 and the cows and the oxen all began, in different tones, 
 calling for their morning breakfast, and gossiping with one 
 another about a new day. Emily lay in her bed, and 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 201 
 
 watched the pink light, making her white curtains look all 
 rose-color, and the sounds of birds and hens and cows and 
 sheep all mingled in her mind in a sort of drowsy, lulling 
 murmur, and she fell into a soft, refreshing doze, which 
 melted away into a deep sleep ; and so she slept ever so 
 long. When she awoke again the sun was shining clear 
 and bright through her window-curtains, which had been 
 looped back with festoons of wild roses, that seemed so 
 fresh and beautiful that she could not help starting up to 
 look at them. 
 
 She perceived at once that while she had been sleeping 
 some one must have been in her room, for by the side of 
 her bed was a table covered with a white cloth, and on the 
 table was a tall, slender vase, full of fresh morning-glories, 
 blue and purple and rose- colored and dark violet, with 
 colors as intense and vivid as if they really had been morn 
 ing clouds grown into flowers. "Oh, how beautiful!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "I m so glad you like them! " said a voice behind her; 
 and Pussy Willow stood there in a trim morning- wrapper, 
 with just the nicest white frill you ever saw around her 
 little throat. 
 
 " Oh, did you bring these flowers here ? " 
 
 "Why, yes; I picked them for you with the dew on 
 them. I thought it a pity you should not see them before 
 the sun shut them up. They are ever so beautiful, but 
 they only last one morning." 
 
 "Is that so? " said Emily. "I never knew that." 
 
 "Certainly; but then we always have new ones. Some 
 mornings I have counted as many as sixty or seventy at 
 my milk-room window when I have been skimming the 
 cream. " 
 
 " How very early you must get up ! " 
 
 "Yes, about the time the bobolinks and robins do," 
 said Pussy, cheerfully. "I want to get my work all done 
 
202 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 early. But come now, shall I help you to dress ? " and 
 Pussy brought water and towels to the bedside, and helped 
 Emily with all her morning operations as handily as if she 
 had been a maid all her life, till finally she seated her, 
 arrayed in a neat white wrapper, in the rocking-chair. 
 
 "And now for your breakfast. I have got it all ready 
 for you, " and Pussy tripped out, and in a few moments 
 returned, bringing with her a tea-tray covered with a fine 
 white cloth, which she placed upon the stand. "Now 
 let s move your table up to you, and put your vase of 
 flowers in the centre. " 
 
 " Oh, what a pretty breakfast ! " said Emily. 
 
 And so it was, and a good one too; for, first, there was 
 a large saucer of strawberries, delightfully arranged on 
 green vine-leaves; then there was a small glass pitcher full 
 of the thickest and richest cream, that was just the color 
 of a saffrano rose-leaf, if any of my little friends know 
 what that is. Then there was the most charming little 
 cake of golden butter you ever saw, stamped with a flower 
 on it and arranged upon two large strawberry-leaves, that 
 actually had a little round pearl of dew on each of their 
 points. Pussy had taken great pains to preserve the dew- 
 drops unbroken on those leaves; she called them her 
 morning pearls. Then there were some white, tender little 
 biscuits, and some nice round muffins of a bright yellow 
 color, made of corn meal, by a very choice receipt on 
 which Pussy prided herself. So on the whole, if you 
 remember that Emily s chair stood before an open window 
 where there was a beautiful view of ever so many green 
 hills, waving with trees, and rolling their green crests, all 
 sparkling and fresh with morning dew, you may not won 
 der that she felt a better appetite than for months before, 
 and that she thought no breakfast had ever tasted so good 
 to her. 
 
 " Do eat some with me, " she said to Pussy, for Emily 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 203 
 
 was a well-bred girl, and somehow did not like to seem to 
 take all to herself. 
 
 "Oh, thank you," said Pussy, "but you see I had my 
 breakfast hours ago." 
 
 " Why, what time do you get up ? " said Emily, open 
 ing her eyes wide. 
 
 "Oh, about four o clock." 
 
 "Four o clock!" said Emily, drawing in her breath. 
 "How dreadful!" 
 
 "I don t find it so," said Pussy, with a gay laugh. 
 "If you only could see how beautiful everything is, so 
 fresh and cool and still ! " 
 
 "Why, do you know," said Emily, "that when I heard 
 people moving this morning, I thought it was some time 
 in the night? I thought something must have happened." 
 
 "Nothing but what happens every morning," said 
 Pussy, laughing. "I hope it didn t disturb you." 
 
 " Oh no ; I fell into a very sound sleep after it. Why, 
 it must have been two or three hours before I woke again. 
 What do you find to do ? " 
 
 " Oh, everything you can think of. I feed Clover, and 
 milk her. You must get acquainted with Clover; she is 
 just the gentlest, most intelligent little beast you ever saw, 
 and I make a great pet of her. Mother laughs at the time 
 I spend in getting her breakfast ready every morning, and 
 says she believes I put eggs and sugar in her corn-cake. 
 I don t quite do that; but then Clover expects something 
 nice, and I love to give it to her. She has beautiful, 
 great, soft eyes, and looks at me with such gratitude when 
 I feed her! She would be glad to lick my hand; but her 
 tongue is rather too rough. Poor Clover, she doesn t 
 know that! But you ought to see the milk she gives! 
 By and by perhaps you would like to come down to my 
 spring-house and see my pans of milk and cream." 
 
 "And do you really make butter? " 
 
204 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 " Certainly ; I made this that you are eating. " 
 
 "What, this morning?" 
 
 "No, yesterday; but I stamped it this morning on 
 purpose for your breakfast. It has a pansy on it, you see; 
 Brother Jim cut my stamp for me, he has quite a taste 
 for such things." 
 
 "Dear me!" said Emily, "how much you must have to 
 do ! I think I must be quite a trouble to you, with all 
 your engagements; I think Dr. Hardback ought to have 
 let me bring a maid." 
 
 "Oh, she would only be in the way," said Pussy; "you 
 had a great deal better let me take care of you." 
 
 " But you must have so much to do " 
 
 "Oh, my work for to-day is about all done; I have 
 nothing to do really. The butter is made, and set away 
 to cool, and the dinner all put up for the men to take to 
 the field; and they won t come home till night. This is 
 my time for sewing, and reading and writing, and doing 
 all things in general. And so, now, when you feel like 
 it, I 11 show you about over the premises." 
 
 So the two girls put on their hats, and Pussy began to 
 lead her frail young friend about with her. 
 
 First, they went down along by the side of the brook, 
 at the bottom of the garden, to the spring-house. It 
 seemed refreshingly cool, and the brook pattered its way 
 through it with a gentle murmur. On either side was a 
 wide shelf set full of pans of milk, on which the soft, 
 yellow cream was rising, and there was a little rustic seat 
 at one end. 
 
 "There is my seat," said Pussy, pointing it out. 
 "Here s where I sit to work my butter, and do all sorts 
 of things. It s always cool here, even in the hottest 
 days." Then Pussy showed Emily her churn, and the 
 long row of bright tin pans that were sunning on a board 
 on the outside. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 205 
 
 All this was perfectly new to Emily; she had never in 
 her life thought how or where butter was made, and it was 
 quite a new interest to her to see all about it. "If only 
 you didn t make it so very early," she said, "I should 
 like to see you do it." 
 
 "It is right pretty work," said Pussy, "and it is a 
 delight always new to see the little golden flakes of butter 
 begin to come in the cream! Perhaps, by and by, when 
 you grow stronger, you might get up early for one morn 
 ing. You have no idea what beautiful things there are 
 to be seen and heard early in the morning, that never 
 come at any other time of day. But now let s go to the 
 barn. Wouldn t you like me to take you to ride while 
 it s cool? There is old Whitefoot left that the men are 
 not using. I can have him whenever I please." 
 
 "But you say the men are all gone," said Emily. 
 
 "Oh, I 11 harness him," said Pussy; "Whitefoot knows 
 me, and will let me do anything I please with him. I do 
 believe he d buckle his own girths, and harness himself 
 up to oblige me if he could, poor Whitefoot ! " 
 
 So saying, they came into the large, clean, sweet-smell 
 ing barn, now fragrant with the perfume of new hay. It 
 had great wide doors on either side, and opened upon a 
 most glorious picture of the mountains. 
 
 "Now," said Pussy, "you must need rest awhile, and 
 I m going to get you up into my more particular haunt, 
 up this ladder." 
 
 "Oh, dreadful! I couldn t go up there," said Emily, 
 "it would set my heart beating so." 
 
 "Oh, never mind your heart," said Pussy; "just let me 
 get my arm round your waist, and put your foot there, " 
 and before Emily could remonstrate she found herself swung 
 lightly up, and resting softly in a fragrant couch of hay. 
 
 "You didn t know how easy it was to get up here," 
 said Pussy. 
 
206 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 "No, to be sure I didn t," said Emily. "What a nice, 
 queer old place, and how sweet the hay smells ! " 
 
 "Now," said Pussy, "let me carry you to my boudoir, 
 and put you on my sofa." 
 
 There was a great open door above, where the hay was 
 pitched in, and opposite this door Pussy placed Miss 
 Emily, with a mountain of sweet-smelling hay at her back, 
 and a soft couch of it under her. 
 
 " There, now ! " said Pussy, " you are accommodated 
 like a duchess. Now, say if I have n t a glorious prospect 
 from my boudoir. We can look quite up that great val 
 ley, and count all those cloudy blue old mountains, and 
 see the clouds sailing about in the sky, and dropping their 
 shadows here and there on the mountains. I have my 
 books out here, and some work, and I sit here hours at 
 a time. Perhaps you 11 like to come here days, with me, 
 and read and sew." 
 
 Now, to tell the truth, Emily had never been fond of 
 reading, and as for sewing, she had scarcely ever taken a 
 needle in her hand; but she said nothing about this, and 
 only asked to look at Pussy s books. There were Long 
 fellow s " Evangeline, " Bryant s Poems, Prescott s "Fer 
 dinand and Isabella, " and " Paul and Virginia " in French. 
 
 "So you read French," said Emily, in a tone of slight 
 surprise. 
 
 "A little; I don t suppose I pronounce it well, for I 
 never really heard a French person speak. Perhaps, by 
 and by, when you are better, you will give me a few les 
 sons." 
 
 Emily blushed, for she remembered how very negli 
 gent of her studies she had been at school; but she an 
 swered, "I never was a very good scholar, but they used 
 to say I had a very good accent; one cannot be years in 
 a French school without acquiring that." 
 
 "And that is just what I need," said Pussy, "so it all 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 207 
 
 happens just right; and you will give me a lesson every 
 day, won t you? " 
 
 "You are so kind to me," said Emily, "that I should 
 be glad to do anything I can." 
 
 "Then it s all settled," said Pussy, exultingly. "We 
 will come and sit here with our books, and breathe the 
 fresh air, and be all still and quiet by ourselves, and I 
 will read to you, that is," she said, blushing, "if you 
 like to be read to." 
 
 "Oh, you are very kind," said Emily; "I should like 
 it of all things." 
 
 "And now," said Pussy, "if you would like a little 
 drive before the heat of the day comes on, I 11 just speak 
 to Whitefoot." 
 
 " You re not really in earnest in saying you can harness 
 him ? " said Emily. 
 
 "To be sure I am; how should we women folk ever get 
 about if I couldn t 1 ? I can push out the wagon, and have 
 him in in a twinkling." 
 
 And, sure enough, Miss Emily, looking through a crack, 
 saw old Whitefoot come out of his stable at the call of his 
 young mistress, and meekly bend his sober old head to her 
 while she put on the harness, and backed him between the 
 shafts of the carriage, and then proceeded to fasten and 
 buckle the harness, till, finally, all was ready. 
 
 "Now let me bring you down," said Pussy. 
 
 "You seem to think I am only a bale of goods," said 
 Emily, laughing. 
 
 " Well, you are not to exert yourself too much at first. 
 Mother told me I must be very careful about you, because 
 I am so strong, and not expect you could do anything like 
 me at first." 
 
 "Well, I think I shall try to help myself down," said 
 Emily; "it was only foolish nonsense that made me afraid. 
 I can hold to that ladder as well as you, if I only choose." 
 
208 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 "To be sure. It is the best way, because, if one feels 
 that way, one can t fall." 
 
 Emily had never done so much for herself before, and 
 she felt a new sensation in doing it, a new feeling of 
 power over herself; and she began to think how much 
 better the lively, active, energetic life of her young friend 
 was, than her own miserable, dawdling existence hitherto. 
 
 The two girls took a very pleasant drive that morning. 
 First to mill, where Pussy left a bag of corn to be ground 
 into meal, and where Emily saw, for the first time, the 
 process of making flour. Emily admired the little cascade, 
 with its foamy fall of dark water, that turned the old, 
 black, dripping mill-wheel; she watched with somewhat 
 awe-struck curiosity the great whirling stones that were 
 going round and round, and the golden stream of meal that 
 was falling from them. She noticed all along on the road 
 that everybody knew Pussy, and had a smile and a word 
 for her. 
 
 "Oh, here ye be!" said the old miller; "why, I m 
 glad to see ye; it s as good as sunshine any day to see 
 you a-comin ." And in return, Pussy had inquiries for 
 everybody s health, and for all their employments and 
 interests. 
 
 So the first day passed in various little country scenes 
 and employments, and when Emily came to go to bed at 
 night, although she felt very tired, she found that she had 
 thought a great deal less of her ailments and troubles that 
 day than common. She had eaten her meals with a won 
 derful appetite, and, before she knew it, at night was 
 sound asleep. 
 
XIII 
 
 WELL, my dear girls who read this story, I want now 
 just to ask you, seriously and soberly, which you would 
 rather be, as far as our story has gone on, little Miss 
 Pussy Willow, or little Miss Emily Proudie. 
 
 Emily had, to be sure, twice or three times as much of 
 all the nice things you ever heard of to make a girl happy 
 as little Pussy Willow; she had more money, a larger and 
 more beautiful house, more elegant clothes, more brilliant 
 jewelry, and yet of what use were these so long as she 
 did not enjoy them? 
 
 And why didn t she enjoy them? My dear little girl, 
 can you ever remember, on a Christmas or Thanksgiving 
 day, eating so much candy, ice-cream, and other matters 
 of that nature, that your mouth had a bitter taste in it, 
 and you loathed the very sight of cake or preserves, or 
 anything sweet ? What earthly good did it do, when you 
 felt in that way, for you to be seated at a table glittering 
 with candy pyramids ? You could not look at them with 
 out disgust. 
 
 Now all Emily s life had been a candy pyramid. Ever 
 since she was a little girl, her eyes had been dazzled, and 
 her hands filled with every pretty thing that father, 
 mother, aunts, uncles, and grandmothers could get for her, 
 so that she was all her time kept in this state of weariness 
 by having too much. Then everything had always been 
 done for her, so that she had none of the pleasures which 
 the good God meant us to have in the use of our own 
 powers and faculties. Pussy Willow enjoyed a great deal 
 
210 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 more a doll that she made herself, carving it out of a bit 
 of white wood, painting its face, putting in beads for eyes, 
 and otherwise bringing it into shape, than Emily did the 
 whole army of her dolls, with all their splendid clothes. 
 This was because our Heavenly Father made us so that we 
 should find a pleasure in the exercise of the capacities he 
 has given us. 
 
 So when the good fairies which I have told you about, 
 who presided over Pussy s birth, gave her the gift of being 
 pleased with all she had and with all she did, they knew 
 what they were about, and they gave it to a girl that was 
 going to grow up and take care of herself and others, and 
 not to a girl that was going to grow up to have others 
 always taking care of her. 
 
 But now here at sixteen are the two girls; and as they 
 are sitting, this bright June morning, up in the barn- 
 chamber, working and reading, I want you to look at them, 
 and ask, What has Miss Emily gained by her luxurious 
 life of wealth and ease, that Pussy Willow has not acquired 
 in far greater perfection by her habits of self-helpfulness 1 
 
 When the two girls stand up together, you may see that 
 Pussy Willow is every whit as pretty and as genteel in 
 her appearance as Emily. Because she has been an indus 
 trious country girl, and has always done the duty next 
 her, you are not to suppose that she has grown up coarse 
 and blowsy, or that she has rough, red hands, or big feet. 
 Her complexion, it is true, is a healthy one; her skin, 
 instead of being waxy-white, like a dead japonica, has a 
 delicate shade of pink in its whiteness, and her cheeks 
 have the vivid color of the sweet-pea, bright and clear and 
 delicate; and she looks out of her wide clear blue eyes 
 with frankness and courage at everything. She is every 
 whit as much a lady in person and manners and mind as 
 if she had been brought up in wealth and luxury. Then, 
 as to education, Miss Emily soon found that in all real 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 211 
 
 solid learning Pussy was far beyond her. A girl that is 
 willing to walk two miles to school, summer and winter, 
 for the sake of acquiring knowledge, is quite apt to study 
 with energy. Pussy had gained her knowledge by using 
 her own powers and faculties, studying, reading, thinking, 
 asking questions. Emily had had her knowledge put into 
 her, just as she had had her clothes made and put on her; 
 she felt small interest in her studies, and the consequence 
 was that she soon forgot them. 
 
 But this visit that she made in the country opened a 
 new chapter in Emily s life. I told you, last month, that 
 she had a new sensation when she was climbing down the 
 ladder from the hay-mow. The sensation was that of 
 using her own powers. She was actually so impressed 
 with the superior energy of her little friend, that she felt 
 as if she wanted to begin to do as she did; and, instead 
 of being lifted like a cotton-bale, she put forth her own 
 powers, and was surprised to find how nicely it felt. 
 
 The next day, after she had been driving about with 
 Pussy in the old farm-wagon, and seeing her do all her 
 errands, she said to her, "Do you know that I think that 
 my principal disease hitherto has been laziness ? I mean 
 to get over it. I m going to try and get up a little earlier 
 every morning, and to do a little more every day, till at 
 least I can take care of myself. I have determined that 
 I won t always lie a dead weight on other people s hands. 
 Let me go round with you, Pussy, and do every day just 
 some little thing myself. I want to learn how you do 
 everything as you do." 
 
 Of course, this good resolution could not be carried out 
 in a day ; but after Emily had been at the farm a month, 
 you might have seen her, between five and six o clock one 
 beautiful morning, coming back with .Pussy from the 
 spring-house, where she had been helping to skim the 
 cream, and awhile after she actually sent home, to her 
 
212 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 mother s astonishment, some little pats of butter that she 
 had churned herself. 
 
 Her mother was amazed, and ran and told Dr. Hard- 
 hack. "I wish you would caution her, Doctor; I m sure 
 she s over-exerting herself. 7 
 
 "Never fear, my dear madam; it s only that there s 
 more iron getting into her blood, that s all. Let her 
 alone, or tell her to do it more yet ! " 
 
 " But, Doctor, may not the thing be carried too far ? " 
 
 "For gentility, you mean? Don t you remember Marie 
 Antoinette made butter, and Louis was a miller out at 
 Marly ? Poor souls ! it was all the comfort they got out 
 of their regal life, that sometimes they might be allowed 
 to use their own hands and heads like common mortals." 
 
 Now Emily s mother didn t remember all this, for she 
 was not a woman of much reading; but the Doctor was so 
 positive that Emily was in the right way, that she rested 
 in peace. Emily grew happier than ever she had been in 
 her life. She and her young friend were inseparable ; they 
 worked together, they read and studied together, they rode 
 out together in the old farm- wagon. "I never felt so 
 strong and well before," said Emily, "and I feel good for 
 something. " 
 
 There was in the neighborhood a poor young girl, who 
 by a fall, years before, had been made a helpless cripple. 
 Her mother was a hard-working woman, and often had to 
 leave her daughter alone while she went out to scrub or 
 wash to get money to support her. Pussy first took Emily 
 to see this girl when she went to carry her some nice 
 things which she had made for her. Emily became very 
 much interested in the poor patient face and the gentle 
 cheerfulness with which she bore her troubles. 
 
 "Now," she said, " every week I will make something 
 and take to poor Susan ; it will be a motive for me to learn 
 how to do things, " and so she did. Sometimes she car- 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 213 
 
 ried to her a nice little print of yellow butter arranged 
 with fresh green leaves; sometimes it was a little mould 
 of blanc-mange, and sometimes a jelly. She took to cut 
 ting and fitting and altering one of her own wrappers for 
 Susan s use, and she found a pleasure in these new cares 
 that astonished herself. 
 
 "You have no idea," she said, "how different life looks 
 to me, now that I live a little for somebody besides myself. 
 I had no idea that I could do so many things as I do, 
 it s such a surprise and pleasure to me to find that I can. 
 Why have I always been such a fool as to suppose that 
 I was happy in living such a lazy, useless life as I have 
 lived?" 
 
 Emily wrote these thoughts to her mother. Now her 
 mother was not in the least used to thinking, and new 
 thoughts made a troublesome buzzing in her brain; so she 
 carried her letters to Dr. Hardback, and asked what he 
 thought of them. 
 
 " Iron in her blood, my dear madam, iron in her 
 blood ! Just what she needs. She 11 come home a strong, 
 bouncing girl, I hope." 
 
 " Oh, shocking ! " cried her mother. 
 
 "Yes, bouncing," said Dr. Hardback, who had a per 
 verse and contrary desire to shock fine ladies. "Why 
 shouldn t she bounce? A ball that won t bounce has no 
 elasticity, and is good for nothing without a bat to bang 
 it about. I shall give you back a live daughter in the fall 
 instead of a half -dead one; and I expect you 11 all scream, 
 and stop your ears, and run under beds with fright because 
 you never saw a live girl before." 
 
 "Isn t Dr. Hardback so original?" said mamma to 
 grandmamma. 
 
 "But then, you know, he s all the fashion now," said 
 grandmamma. 
 
XIV 
 
 OUR, little friend, Miss Emily Proudie, had on the 
 whole a very pleasant summer of it at the farm. By the 
 time that huckleberries were ripe, in August, she could 
 take her hasket on her arm, and, in company with Pussy, 
 take long walks, and spend whole afternoons in the pas 
 tures, sitting down on the great wide cushions of white 
 foamy moss, such as you always find in huckleberry pas 
 tures, and picking pailfuls of the round, shining black 
 fruit. She never found herself tired and panting for 
 breath, as she used to in her city life; for there were no 
 bandages or strings around her lungs to confine her breath 
 ing, and in place of the hot, close air of city pavements 
 there were the spicy odors of the sweet-fern and the pine- 
 trees and the bayberry-bushes. 
 
 Then Pussy had brought her to be acquainted with all 
 the birds, so that she knew every one just as well as she 
 used to know her old calling acquaintance on Fifth Avenue. 
 There was frisky Master Catbird, who sang like every 
 other bird in the woods in turn, five minutes like this 
 one, and the next five minutes like that one, and ended 
 by laughing at them all, with as plain a laugh as ever a 
 bird could make. And there were the bobolinks, with 
 the white spots on their black wings, that fluttered and 
 said, "Chack, chack, chack!" as if they didn t know how 
 to sing a word, and then all of a sudden broke out into 
 a perfect bird babble of " Chee-chees " and " Twitter- twit 
 ters," and said, "0 limph, O limph, limp-e-te! sweet 
 meats, sweetmeats!" and, "Veni si-no pi-le-cheer-ene ! " 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 215 
 
 And then, too, there was the shy white- throated finch, 
 that never sings unless it is perfectly sure of being all 
 alone by itself in the deepest, shadiest little closet of an 
 old pine-tree or a thick-leaved maple. 
 
 Pussy had taught Emily how to creep round among the 
 bushes, holding her breath, and moving in perfect silence, 
 till at last they would get directly under the tree where 
 the shy little beauty was sitting; and then they would see 
 her dress herself, and plume her feathers, and pour forth 
 just six clear, measured musical notes, a little plaintive, 
 but so sweet that one who heard her once would want to 
 hear again. 
 
 Pussy used to insist that the bird uttered just six words 
 in the tune of one of her Sunday-school hymns, "No 
 war nor battle sound." By close listening, you might 
 after a time be quite sure that the bird sung exactly these 
 words in her green, still retirement. 
 
 Then there were a whole crowd more of meadow-larks, 
 and finches, and yellow-birds, that used to sit on thistle- 
 tops, and sing, and pick out the downy thistle-seeds, and 
 snap them up, and send the little silvery plumes flying 
 like fairy feathers through the summer air. 
 
 Emily used to suppose that there were no sights to look 
 at in the country, where there was no theatre, and no 
 opera, and no museum; but she soon found that she could 
 see, every day, out in a common pasture-lot, things more 
 beautiful and curious than any which could be gotten up 
 to entertain people in the city. 
 
 On Sundays they used to ride two good miles over hill 
 and dale to the village church, and there Pussy had her 
 Sunday-school class of nice rosy boys and girls, whom she 
 seemed so fond of, and who were always so glad to see 
 her. 
 
 Many times the thought occurred to Emily, "How 
 happy this girl is ! Not a day of her life passes when she 
 
216 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 does not feel that she is bringing some good and useful 
 thing to pass, feeling her own powers, and brightening 
 the life of every one around her by the use of them. And 
 I," Emily thought, "have lived all my life like some 
 broken- winged bird or sick chicken, just to be taken care 
 of, always to receive, and never to give ; always to be 
 waited on, and never to wait on anybody." 
 
 With health and strength and cheerfulness came a sort 
 of consciousness of power, and a scorn of doing nothing, in 
 this young girl s mind. "Because I am rich, is that any 
 reason why I should be lazy," she thought to herself, 
 "arid let my body and mind absolutely die out from sheer 
 laziness ? If I am not obliged to work to support myself, 
 as Pussy is, still, ought I not to work for others, as she 
 does 1 If I can afford to have all my clothes made, is that 
 any reason why I should not learn to cut and fit and sew 
 so as to help those who have not money? Besides," 
 thought the sensible Miss Emily, "my papa may lose his 
 money, and become poor. Now being poor is no evil to 
 Pussy ; she contrives to be just as happy, to look pretty, 
 to dress well and neatly, and to make her home charming 
 and agreeable, all by using her own faculties to the 
 utmost, instead of depending on others, and being a drag 
 and a burden on them. I will try and do so too. To be 
 sure it is late in the day for me, I have indulged laziness 
 so long, and I am lazy, that s a fact. But then " 
 And then Emily went on thinking over the explanation 
 that she had heard Pussy give to her Sunday-school class, 
 on the Sunday before, of the parable of the talents, and 
 the uses different people made of them. "These talents," 
 she thought, "are all our advantages for doing good; and 
 I have had so many ! I am like the man who just digged 
 in the earth and buried his Lord s money in darkness; I 
 have not done anything with my talents; I have not culti 
 vated my mind, though I have had every advantage for it; 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 217 
 
 I have not even perfectly acquired any accomplishment. 
 I have not done anybody any good, and I have not even 
 been happy myself. My talent has not only not been in 
 creased, but it has grown less ; for I have lost my health, 
 and come almost to the grave by foolish ways of dressing, 
 by sitting up late nights, and living generally without any 
 sensible worthy object. And now, if my Lord should 
 come to reckon with me, what could I say about the use 
 I have made of my talents 1 " 
 
 This was more serious thinking than our Miss Emily 
 had ever done before, and it ended in a humble, hearty 
 prayer to her Saviour to enable her for the future to lead 
 a better life; and then she began to study as earnestly to 
 learn how to do everything about a house as if she were 
 in very deed a poor girl, and needed to know. She in 
 sisted on taking the care of her own room, and early in 
 the morning you might have heard her stepping about her 
 apartment in a thrifty way, throwing open her window, 
 and beating up her pillows and bolster, and putting them 
 to air. Then she would insist on helping Pussy wash the 
 breakfast things, and she would get her to teach every step 
 of the way to make bread and biscuit and butter, and all 
 nice things. "It does me good, it amuses me, it gives me 
 my health, and it makes me good for something," she said. 
 "If ever I should have use for this knowledge, I shall be 
 at no loss, and you don t know how much happier I am than 
 when I did nothing." 
 
 "Now, Pussy dear," she used to add, "when I go back 
 to New York this winter, you must come and visit me; 
 for I cannot do without you." 
 
 "Oh!" Pussy would say, laughing, "you won t like 
 me in New York. I do very well in the country, among 
 the sweet-fern bushes and the bobolinks, but I should be 
 quite lost in one of your New York palaces." 
 
 "No, but you must come and show New Yorkers what 
 
218 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 a country girl can be. Why, Pussy, you are a great deal 
 better educated than I am, even in things where I have 
 had more advantages than you, just because you have had 
 to struggle for them; you have really set your heart on 
 them, and so have got them. Knowledge has just been 
 rubbed on to me upon the outside, while you have opened 
 your mind, and stretched out your arms to it, and taken it 
 in with all your heart." 
 
 Emily would not be denied, and Pussy s mother said 
 that she ought to have some little holiday, she had always 
 been such a good girl; and so it was arranged that she 
 should go back to New York with Emily when she went. 
 
 But Emily was in no hurry to go back, for, as autumn 
 came on, and the long fine days grew cooler, she found 
 that she could walk farther and farther, and spend more 
 and more time in the open air. She had great fun in 
 going chestnutting, out under the bright gold- colored chest 
 nut-trees, where the prickly burrs opened and showered 
 down abundance of ripe, glossy nuts. Emily would some 
 times come home long after dark, having spent a whole 
 afternoon in searching and tossing about the golden leaves, 
 and bearing her bag of chestnuts in triumph, and so 
 hungry that good brown bread and milk tasted like the 
 most delicious luxury. 
 
 Then there were walnuts, and butternuts, and wild 
 forest grapes, and bright crimson barberries, all of which 
 the young maidens went forth to seek, and in pursuit of 
 which they garnered health and strength and happiness. 
 
 "Why, Dr. Hardback," said Emily s mother, "I don t 
 see as we shall ever get our Emily home again. I keep 
 writing and writing, and still she says she isn t ready; 
 there is always something ahead." 
 
 "Let her alone, ma am, let her alone," said the Doctor. 
 "Give Nature a chance more; you ll all be tumbling on 
 to her, and trying to undo all the good she s getting, as 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 219 
 
 soon as you get her home; so let her stay as long as possi 
 ble." 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Hardhack, you are so queer ! " 
 
 "Truth, ma am!" said the Doctor. "You are perfectly 
 longing to kill that child; it s all you can do to allow her 
 a chance to breathe. But I insist upon it that she shall 
 keep away from you as long as she has a mind to." 
 
 "Did you ever see such a queer old dear as Dr. Hard- 
 hack?" said Emily s mother. "He does say the oddest 
 things!" 
 
 So in the next chapter we shall tell you about Pussy s 
 adventures in New York. 
 
XV 
 
 "WELL now, Dr. Hardback, doesn t our Emily look 
 beautifully?" said Emily s mother and grandmother and 
 aunt, all in one breath. 
 
 Emily had come home from her long abode in the coun 
 try, and had brought her friend Pussy Willow with her; 
 and they were sitting together now, a pair of about as rosy 
 young females as one should wish to see of a summer day. 
 
 Dr. Hardback turned round, and glared through his 
 spectacles at Emily. "Pretty fair, 7 he said; "pretty fair! 
 A tolerable summer s work, that! " and he gave a pinch 
 to Emily s rosy cheek. "Firm fibre, that! real hard flesh, 
 made of clover and morning dew, none of your flabby, 
 sidewalk, skinny construction." 
 
 " Well now, Doctor, we want you to tell us just what 
 she may do, just how much. I suppose you know, now 
 she s got into a city, she can t dress exactly as she did up 
 in the country." 
 
 "I see, I see," said Dr. Hardback; "I take at once." 
 
 "You see," said Aunt Zarviah, "there isn t a thing of 
 all her clothes that she can wear, having been all summer 
 in those loose sacks, you know. She s sort o spread 
 out, you see." 
 
 "I should think so," said Dr. Hardback. "Well, my 
 advice is, that you begin gradually screwing her up; get 
 her corsets ready, with plenty of whalebone and a good 
 tough lace; but don t begin too hard, just tighten a 
 little every day, and by and by she 11 get back to where 
 all her things will fit her exactly." 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 221 
 
 "But, Doctor, won t that injure her health?" said the 
 mamma. 
 
 "Of course it will, but I fancy she 11 stand it for one 
 winter; it won t quite kill her, and that s all we doctors 
 want. If it suits you all, it does me, I m sure. What 
 should I do for my bread and butter, if all the girls of 
 good families kept on living as these two have been living 
 this summer? I really couldn t afford it, in a professional 
 point of view." 
 
 "Well, J have something to say on this point," said 
 Emily. "I wouldn t lose my health again for anything 
 that can be named." 
 
 "Oh, pooh, pooh! I ve heard a deal of talk of this 
 sort before now. When patients are first up from a sick 
 ness, how prudent they mean to be ! 
 
 When the Devil was sick, the Devil a rnonk would be, 
 When the Devil got well, the Devil a monk was he. " 
 
 "Thank you, Doctor," said Miss Emily; "but I think 
 that poetry doesn t apply to me, if you please. I hope 
 I m not of that family." 
 
 "Well, but seriously, Doctor, you must tell us just 
 how much it will do for Emily to do," said the mamma. 
 "One doesn t want to give up the world entirely, and yet 
 one doesn t want to lose one s health." 
 
 "I see," said the Doctor; "I appreciate the case en 
 tirely. Well, let her begin with the opera twice a week, 
 and one German, kept up till daylight. In one week she 
 will feel stronger than ever she did, and declare that 
 nothing hurts her; then she can take two Germans, and 
 then three, and so on. Fact is," said the Doctor, "of all 
 the devices of modern society, none is so good for the 
 medical practice as these Germans; my best cases are made 
 out of em; they unite all the requisites for forming first- 
 rate patients that keep on our hands for months and years, 
 and are as good as an annuity to us. I m not a fool, 
 
222 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 madam. I must look ahead for my bread and butter next 
 spring, you see." 
 
 "But, Doctor, I m not going to Germans at all," said 
 Emily, stoutly. "I know now what life is, and what 
 health is worth, and I m not going to waste it in that 
 way. Besides, I m going to try to live for something 
 better. " 
 
 "Live for something better! " said the Doctor. "What 
 sort of talk is that for a young lady in the first New York 
 society? What is there to live for better? I thought of 
 it the other night when I was at a confirmation at Grace 
 Church, and saw a whole bevy of pretty creatures, who all 
 were engaging to fight manfully under Christ s banner, 
 and thought where they would be before spring. Whirl 
 ing round all night in a low-necked dress is the kind of 
 fighting they do; and then I m called in as hospital sur 
 geon to the dear disciples when they are carried off the 
 field exhausted. I know all about it. You can t, of 
 course, live for anything better. You couldn t, for the 
 world, be called singular, and be thought to have odd 
 notions, could you 1 That would be too horrible. 
 
 "Now I knew a rich New York girl once who took to 
 bad courses. She would go round visiting the poor, she 
 would sit up with sick people, and there was no end to the 
 remarks made about her. People clearly saw how wicked 
 it was of her to risk her health in that way, how late 
 hours and bad air and fatigue would certainly undermine 
 her health, and she was quite cast out of the synagogue. 
 You mustn t breathe bad air or over-exert yourself, unless 
 you do so from a purely selfish motive; then it s all right 
 and proper, this is our New York gospel. " 
 
 Pussy Willow s blue eyes were open very wide on the 
 Doctor as he spoke, and there was a laugh in them, though 
 she did not laugh otherwise. The Doctor caught the 
 expression, and shook his cane at her. 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 223 
 
 "Oh, you needn t sit there looking mischievous, miss. 
 What do you know of life ? You re nothing but a country 
 girl, and you know no more of it than the bobolinks and 
 chip- squirrels do. You 11 soon learn to be ashamed of 
 your roses, and to think it s pretty to have bad health. 
 I 11 bet a copper that you 11 begin a course of corsets in 
 a fortnight, and by spring we shall send you back to your 
 milk-pails as white and withered as Miss Emily there. 
 It s astonishing how fast we can run a girl down, taking 
 one thing with another, the corsets, and the hot rooms 
 with plenty of gas escaping into them from leaky tubes, 
 and then operas and Germans for every night in the week. 
 Of course it s a charity to give you a good stiff dose of it; 
 it s hospitality, you see." 
 
 "Now, Doctor Hardback, you dreadful man," said Em 
 ily, "you must stop this talk. I brought Pussy down here 
 on purpose to have somebody to help me to live better than 
 I have lived. We shall just take a peep or two at New 
 York sights, but we are not going into the gay world." 
 
 "Ta, ta, ta! don t tell me," said the Doctor, shaking 
 his cane playfully at her; "you won t be so unfair as to 
 cut me in that way. I shall hear of you yet, you ll 
 see ; " and so the Doctor departed. 
 
 " What a droll man he is ! " said Pussy. 
 
 "It s just his way," said Emily s mother; "he } s always 
 running on in this strange way about everything. For my 
 part, I never know half what he means." 
 
 "It is tolerably plain what he means," said Emily. 
 " You must do exactly contrary to what he tells you, 
 as I shall; so, aunty, don t trouble yourself to try to alter 
 my things, unless it be to let them all out, for I m going 
 to keep all the breathing-room I ve got, whether I have 
 a pretty waist or not. I d rather have color in my cheeks, 
 and a cheerful heart, than the smallest waist that ever was 
 squeezed together." 
 
224 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 "Such a pity one couldn t have both!" said Aunt Zar- 
 viah. "Your cousin Jane was in here last week with her 
 new bismarck silk, and it fits her so beautifully! Some 
 body said she looked as if she d been melted and poured 
 into it; there wasn t a crease or a wrinkle! It did look 
 lovely!" 
 
 "Well, Aunt Zarviah, I must try some other way of 
 looking lovely. Maybe, if I am always gay and happy, 
 and in good spirits, and have a fresh bright face, it may 
 make up for not looking as if I had been melted and 
 poured into my clothes." 
 
 To do Emily justice, she showed a good deal of spirit 
 in her New York life. She and Pussy agreed to continue 
 together their course of reading and study for at least two 
 hours a day; then they both took classes in a mission 
 Sunday school, which was held in the Church of the Good 
 Shepherd, and they took up their work in real good ear 
 nest. 
 
 "Now," said Emily, "I am not going to give my class 
 just the odds and ends and parings of strength which 
 I have left after I have spent almost all in amusing my 
 self; but I mean to do just the other way, and spend 
 the strength left from really useful things in amusing my 
 self." 
 
 The girls kept a list of their classes, and used regularly 
 every week to visit the families from which the children 
 came. In the course of these visits they found much else 
 to do. They saw much of the life of the poor; they saw 
 paths daily opening before them in which the outlay of 
 a little time and a little money enabled them to help some 
 poor struggling family to keep up a respectable standing; 
 they learned the real worth of both time and money; and 
 the long walks they took in all weathers in the open air 
 kept up their strength and vigor. They went occasionally 
 of an evening to some of the best sights in New York, and 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 225 
 
 they saw what was really worth seeing; but they did not 
 make a winter s work of rushing from one amusement to 
 another. 
 
 On the whole, the two girls, in spite of Doctor Hard- 
 hack, proved that a temperate, sober, healthy, useful life 
 might be led even in the higher circles of New York. 
 
 Dr. Hardback used to pretend to fly into a passion when 
 he saw them, shook his stick at them wrathfully, ex 
 claiming, " What is to become of me if you go on so 1 " 
 and threatening to denounce them. "It s a conspiracy 
 against our bread and butter, the way these girls go on," 
 he said. "I sha n t have a shadow of a case in Miss 
 Emily, and I m an abused man." 
 
 So passed a pleasant winter, when one morning all New 
 York waked up in arms. Emily s father brought home 
 the newspaper, there was a war; Emily s brother came 
 rushing in all out of breath, " The New York Seventh 
 has got to be off in a twinkling. Girls, good-by." 
 
 You remember, my little readers, those first days of the 
 last war. What a stir and commotion there was every 
 where through all the families in the country! Fathers 
 and brothers and lovers and husbands were marching off, 
 and the women left at home were so wishing and longing 
 to be able to do anything to help them ! 
 
 That was the time when every man and woman that was 
 good for anything wished that they were richer and wiser 
 and stronger than they were, that they might be able to 
 do more for their country. 
 
 Emily and her friend had hardly time to think, the 
 thing had burst upon them so suddenly, and George 
 Proudie was gone from them in an hour. 
 
 That day nobody in the house did anything but walk 
 restlessly about the house and look aimlessly out of the 
 windows, till the Seventh Regiment came down the street 
 with banners flying and drums beating. Then the flags 
 
226 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 were waved from all the houses, and flowers were showered 
 down, and people shouted and wept as they went by. 
 
 "Nobody knows whether we shall ever see George 
 again," said Emily s mother, crying. 
 
 "Oh, why was I not a man 1 ?" said Emily. "Why 
 could I not go with him ? " 
 
 Emily s cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, and 
 she looked full a head taller than usual. She was waked 
 up all through her heart and soul to feel the joy and glory 
 of doing something, of living a strong, active, vigorous 
 life; and she felt that to go out to suffer hardships, and 
 brave dangers, and endure toil and self-denial for a noble 
 object, had something in it happier than to live in ease 
 and luxury. 
 
 "I am sick of all these things," she said to Pussy that 
 night, when they were in their chamber. 
 
 The "things" she pointed at were a confused mass of 
 French dresses, and her toilet covered with fancy jewelry. 
 "I never knew before what a brave boy our George was," 
 she added. "Do you know he told me that he was going 
 to be in the thickest of all the fighting, and volunteer to 
 go into every danger. Isn t it splendid of him? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed it is," said Pussy, with sparkling eyes. 
 "I know my brothers have enlisted. Here is the letter 
 mother writes about them. Three of them gone in one 
 regiment, and only one left to help father! He wanted 
 to go, but they felt it was the duty of one to stay, and so 
 he stayed ! " 
 
 The two girls lay awake half the night, wishing that 
 they too could go for soldiers. 
 
XVI 
 
 WELL, the war went on and on and on, and got to be 
 a graver thing every day. What times those were, to be 
 sure! Wasn t everything for a while turned topsy-turvy? 
 Those were days when all who had any capacity in them 
 that was good for anything were sure to find it out and 
 have it called into use. People who do great things and 
 good things at such times do them because they have been 
 laying up strength beforehand, and training themselves in 
 body and mind. Then, when the time comes to use their 
 faculties, they have them all ready, and know just where 
 to find them. 
 
 Very soon came the news of battles and skirmishes, and 
 then of precious blood shed. Then of battles that left 
 ever so many of the noblest and most precious of our 
 Northern soldiers wounded and bleeding. Cannot all of 
 you remember how the mothers and daughters and sisters, 
 all over the country, flew to their relief, how societies 
 were formed, and women worked day and night to send 
 aid to the brave men who were fighting our battles on the 
 field? 
 
 Then, had you been in New York, you must have seen 
 the City Park lined along its edges with barracks thrown 
 up to receive the wounded soldiers. Within were long 
 lines of neat beds where the poor fellows lay. There you 
 might have seen a pretty young girl, dressed in deep 
 mourning, who came every day with her little basket on 
 her arm, leaving at many a couch some token of her gentle 
 presence and loving care. This is the girl that was once 
 
228 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 the idle, selfish Emily Proudie. What is she now ? To 
 the poor suffering men whom she visits every day she 
 seems like an angel; and as she passes among them she 
 leaves a bunch of flowers here, an interesting book or 
 pamphlet there. Sometimes there is a little bottle of 
 cologne, or a palm leaf fan, or a delicate, nicely hemmed 
 handkerchief, luxuries for the sick-bed of which her 
 kind eye sees the need here and there. Occasionally she 
 will sit for an hour at a time by some poor feverish boy, 
 fanning away the flies, that he may sleep, and perhaps 
 singing a sweet hymn. Once she used to get vast credit 
 for singing French and Italian songs with a great many 
 shakes and trills in them, which it fatigued her very much 
 to learn, and which, when she got through with them, 
 people complimented her for as wonderfully well done. 
 Now she sang some simple airs from a soldier s tune-book; 
 and when her tender voice rose, it was in words like 
 these : 
 
 "Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, 
 That calls me from a world of care, 
 And bids me at my Father s throne 
 Make all my wants and wishes known." 
 
 Often, while she was singing, there would be such a 
 stillness all up and down the hospital that you might hear 
 a pin drop, and you might see hard, dark hands brushing 
 away tears quietly ; and then the men would speak softly 
 of pious mothers, at whose knees they learned to pray long 
 years ago. 
 
 You remember the days when Emily had everybody in 
 the house at her feet, waiting on her, and yet was full of 
 disgust and weariness. In those days her back ached, 
 and her head ached, and everything constantly troubled 
 her ; her dresses never were trimmed to suit her, and 
 everything went wrong with her from morning to night. 
 
 Now she is a different girl indeed. She wears a plain 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 229 
 
 mourning dress for her dear brother, who was one of the 
 first to lay down his life for his country; but her dress 
 costs her little thought and little care, because her heart is 
 full of sweeter and nobler things. Emily is living no 
 more for self, she is living for others; she has learned the 
 Saviour s beautiful lesson that it is more blessed to give 
 than to receive, and she finds it so. She uses every day 
 all the strength she has, resolutely and systematically, in 
 some good works of charity. Besides going to the hospi 
 tal, she went often to the rooms of the Soldiers Aid 
 Society to cut out work, and she took some home with 
 her, that every hour might be usefully employed. She 
 wrote letters for the poor fellows who were too feeble to 
 write for themselves, and told distant mothers and friends 
 how their beloved ones were doing. Many of Miss Emily s 
 letters are treasured in distant dwellings in the country, 
 where her face has never been seen, because they are all 
 the tidings that remain of some dear one forever lost to 
 earth. 
 
 Emily s mamma and aunts declared that the dear child 
 was doing too much, and actually wearing herself out ; but 
 Emily found one great secret, and that was, when she had 
 used all her strength in good works, to look humbly to her 
 Father in secret for more, and this strength always came. 
 
 " Are n t you afraid, Doctor, that Emily will wear her 
 self out with visiting the hospitals and working for the 
 soldiers ? " said anxious mamma. 
 
 The Doctor gave her a good look through his great round 
 spectacles. 
 
 " I think she 11 stand it," he said, " rather better than 
 she used to stand the opera and the German some winters 
 ago." 
 
 " And if I don t," said Emily, " I d rather wear out than 
 rust out. I have found out what life is good for now." 
 
 As to Pussy Willow, she had a brother who rose to be a 
 
230 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 general, and had command of a whole State, and she went 
 to the South to keep house for him. One of the largest 
 hospitals in the Southern Department was conducted under 
 her eye and care, and a most capital one it was. She had 
 strength, the result of years of healthy energy, to give to the 
 service of her country. She had experience in the use of 
 her hands, and could do everything in the neatest and 
 quickest way ; and when a hundred desperately wounded 
 men are brought in at once to be relieved and made comfort 
 able, nobody without experience can tell how important it is 
 to know how to do exactly the right thing in the least time. 
 The nights that Pussy has been up in her hospital kitchen, 
 making soup and gruel and coffee, when the wounded were 
 being brought in after a battle ! She moved so quickly 
 that she seemed to be everywhere ; she directed everybody 
 and everything, and wherever anything seemed in danger 
 of going wrong, there she was in a trice, and set it right 
 again. 
 
 Nobody knows the amount of work done by fair, delicate 
 women in those days. They did not turn aside from any 
 horror, they did not spare themselves any fatigue, they 
 called no service beneath them whereby they could relieve 
 a pain. Among these heroines our Pussy was foremost. 
 Those blue eyes of hers became stars of hope to many a 
 poor fellow, and her ministering hands seemed to have the 
 very gift of healing in them. She overlooked the stores 
 sent by the Sanitary Commission, and saw that they were 
 wisely kept and administered. She wrote to the North for 
 whatever was wanting, and kept her patients well and care 
 fully clothed, fed, tended, and nursed. Many letters passed 
 between her and Emily in this labor of love, and many a 
 nice package of shirts and stockings came down to her from 
 Emily s Fifth Avenue sewing association. So these two 
 girls were united in the service of their country. 
 
 And, in this war, it was the women, no less than the men, 
 
LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 231 
 
 that saved the country. If there had not been hundreds of 
 thousands of brave women who did as Miss Emily and our 
 Pussy did, thousands of dear and precious lives must have 
 been wasted, and the war could not have come to so glori 
 ous an end. 
 
 Well, peace came at last. How glad we all were ! And 
 all our generals and colonels came North again, and laid 
 aside their titles, and went to work at their farms and mer 
 chandise as quietly as though nothing had happened. But 
 the people where Pussy lives still persist in calling her bro 
 ther General, and his coat with the gold star on it is hung 
 up with his sword in the little cottage where our story 
 began. 
 
 As to Pussy, she has married lately, and gone to live in 
 New York. She lives in a nice brown-stone house in Fifth 
 Avenue, not far from Miss Emily, and the two girls are 
 more intimate than ever. People do say that the General, 
 Pussy s brother, is going to marry Miss Emily, and so they 
 will, by and by, be sisters. I can t say certainly as to that ; 
 I only know that they are a great deal together ; and on 
 the \vhole, if my young folks will have it so, I guess we 
 will finish up our story that way. 
 
 It is agreed that Pussy is always to spend her summers 
 at the old homestead where she first saw the light, where 
 the bright pussy-willow bush tassels out early in March 
 under the chamber windows, and the old grandmotherly 
 ferns, with their woolly nightcaps, peep out to see whether 
 it will do to unroll and come up into this upper world. 
 
 Pussy is right, for the good fairies dwell in these quiet 
 country places. Do you want to see one, my dear Charlotte 
 or my blue-eyed Mary ? Well, the next time you get a 
 chance to look down into a clear spring, or a deep well all 
 fringed with ferns, if the water is very still and clear, per 
 haps you will see one smiling and looking amiably at you. 
 
 Now remember to be a good girl, and live to help other 
 
232 LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW 
 
 people. Begin by being, as Pussy was, a kind, helpful 
 daughter to your mother, who has done more for you than 
 you have any idea of ; and remember that your happiness 
 consists in what you give and what you do, and not in 
 what you receive and have done for you. 
 And now good-by. 
 
THE MINISTERS WATEKMELONS 
 
 I 
 
 IT was a proud day in my life when I first counted my 
 self as an academy boy in Highland Academy. 
 
 Highland was about as still and dreamy a little village 
 as one could see among the White Mountains ; but it was a 
 grand, lively metropolis, compared to Blueberry, where my 
 tender years were spent, and where I acquired sufficient pri 
 mary knowledge to enable me to graduate into Highland 
 Academy. 
 
 I remember now my emotions, as, seated on the top of 
 the stage, with a very ancient and dilapidated hair trunk 
 as the repository of my worldly goods, we came dashing into 
 Highland in a glorious cloud of dust, which the setting ra 
 diance of the afternoon sun illuminated with splendor. 
 " Here we go," thought I, as two dogs barked, and some 
 roosting hens flew down and cackled, and a cat ran away 
 from, before us, and a flock of geese opened their beaks, and 
 flapped their wings, and hissed, and the driver cracked his 
 whip, and the clerks of the one country store, where the 
 post-office was kept, came and stood out in the porch, while 
 a half-dozen boys sat on a fence and waved their hats. 
 " This is something like life," thought I, and my breast 
 heaved, as I thought of the confined stillness of Blueberry, 
 which was nine miles from any stage station. 
 
 The academy I surveyed with awe. It was quite as big 
 as our meeting-house, and had a bell on it, which our meet 
 ing-house did not have. My heart fluttered and thumped 
 
234 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 when I was set down at Deacon Jones s. I was now, as 
 my father and mother had reminded me, in a long talk the 
 evening before, going to begin life for myself. 
 
 I ordered down my hair trunk and paid my fare with a 
 high sense of responsibility. Deacon Jones stood on the 
 doorstep, a little, thin, wiry man, with a long, sharp 
 nose, attired in a fluttering red calico dressing-gown. He 
 was, at the moment, contemplatively chewing a long bit of 
 straw, for which he appeared to have a relish. 
 
 When I gave him a letter from my father, and stood 
 waiting, trunk in hand, he opened it with great crackling, 
 wiped his spectacles a great many times, and read it over as 
 if he found difficulty in making it out, and then, contem 
 plating me through his spectacles, he drawled out, 
 
 " Wai, I calculate we can take you. You 11 have to go 
 into No. 2. Miss Jones 11 show you the way. Miss Jones," 
 he continued, turning round, with a nutter of the red double 
 gown, " there aint but one boy in "No. 2, is there ? " 
 
 An anxious, hot-looking woman came out of some inner 
 apartment, and, taking a hasty glance at me, said, " This 
 way, if you please," and I followed, with my hair trunk on 
 my shoulder, up an echoing pair of bare, painted stairs, into 
 a large front room, the windows of which, on one side, 
 opened upon two large maple-trees, and on the other upon 
 a glorious blue vista of mountains. 
 
 There was one boy already there, and two more expected. 
 Jimmy Seaforth, the present occupant, was a little, white- 
 haired, blue-eyed, gentle-spoken fellow, who seemed to look 
 up to me with a sort of apprehension as I came in. This 
 rather nattered my self-importance, and forthwith a friend 
 ship was struck up between us, and we agreed to be bedfel 
 lows, whoever else might come to occupy the other bed. 
 
 I felt very grand as I took out my Latin books, and 
 arranged them strikingly on the shelf, instructing Jimmy, all 
 the while, and giving him the benefit, gratis, of the wisdom 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 235 
 
 and sage counsel with which my father, and mother, and 
 aunts had filled my head, on the grand and solemn occasion 
 of my entering Highland Academy. 
 
 I examined him concerning his studies, gave him the 
 benefit of my opinion in a most liberal manner, and promised 
 to stand by him in case of any emergency. Jimmy was 
 naturally of a timid, apprehensive disposition, and took to 
 twining around me as naturally as a youthful bean-vine takes 
 to a friendly bean-pole. 
 
 The next day we were examined and classed. I was to 
 begin Virgil with three other boys and two girls. Myra 
 Jones was one, and Lucy Sewell the other. Myra was large- 
 boned, dark-complexioned, with a big, heavy waist ; but 
 Lucy Sewell was slender and golden-haired, with great blue 
 eyes, and cheeks like a sweet pea. She was the minister s 
 oldest daughter, and the very first sight of her filled me with 
 the strangest mixture of pleasure and discomfort I had ever 
 experienced. I remembered, with horror, that, in my haste 
 in dressing that morning, I had put on a shirt-collar with a 
 streak of smut upon it. " Who cares ? " I thought as I 
 stood before the looking-glass. But then I did not know 
 that I was to sit side by side with Lucy in the Virgil class. 
 
 We all had to read and construe in turn, and this miser 
 able bit of smut on my collar became so active in my imagi 
 nation that I could hardly get my moods and tenses right, 
 and I made one or two mistakes, which further covered me 
 with confusion. 
 
 I knew the first book in Virgil almost by heart, and was 
 burning to distinguish myself, but I was so harassed by this 
 little fiend, that I was actually puzzled to translate one of 
 the most familiar phrases. There was a movement and a 
 flutter next me, as of dove s wings, and Lucy Sewell consid 
 erately knocked down a book, and, as she stooped to pick it 
 up, she whispered the right phrase in my ear. 
 
 It set me straight. I recovered myself, grew more com- 
 
236 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 posed, and went through with credit. I looked up to thank 
 my good angel, but Lucy was blushing redder than I, with 
 her eyes fixed in most innocent ignorance on her Virgil. 
 
 Her portion of the lesson was construed charmingly ; so 
 was Myra s ; and Myra turned out to be a first-rate comrade, 
 and a real jolly girl a fine bit of the good, hearty prose of 
 life ; but Lucy was its poetry. 
 
 When school was out, I tried to express, in my best style, 
 my thanks for her kindness. 
 
 " Kindness, Mr. Somers ! " she said ; " not at all." 
 
 " Mr. Somers ! " and by those pretty lips. At home, in 
 Blueberry, I was only plain Bill Somers. I felt taller and 
 grander at once ; yet somehow I felt myself blushing like a 
 girl, but Miss Lucy was as quiet and cool as the white linen 
 collar round her throat. The girl is always mistress of the 
 situation at that age. Lucy, I found afterwards, was only a 
 month or two younger than myself, but full a year older, in 
 womanly gravity. 
 
 Nevertheless, she let me carry her Virgil and dictionary 
 for her, and walk beside her home, the most delighted of 
 individuals. 
 
 I went to my room, feeling grand and heroic ; rushed to 
 the looking-glass, examined the state of my whiskers care 
 fully, and remarked to Jimmy that the way the hair did 
 grow on my cheek and chin was astonishing ! It was really 
 necessary to shave every day ; and Jimmy admired me 
 accordingly. I studied my Virgil like a hero, overwhelmed 
 Jimmy with good advice and sage counsels till a late hour 
 that night, and went to sleep, feeling that 
 "Life is real, life is earnest." 
 
 I wrote home to my mother that week a letter filled with 
 the most profound moral reflections, which the dear woman 
 carried in her pocket, and read over at least a dozen times 
 a day. On Sunday, I recorded punctually, for her edification, 
 the heads of Mr. Sewell s two sermons ; and my behavior at 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 237 
 
 church was attentive and edifying in the extreme ; the more 
 so that Lucy Sewell, all in white, and with a wonderful little 
 bonnet garlanded with sweet peas, sat in the singers seat, 
 and I thought now and then gave me a friendly look, as I 
 sat bending over my notes. That first week was a glorified 
 one, but alas 
 
 Well, what of the alas ? 
 
 You shall hear. 
 
II 
 
 FOB the first two weeks I had it all my own way in 
 No. 2, and fancied that I was getting to be quite a virtuous 
 hero. Jimmy looked up to me, and I explained his lessons 
 to him, and gave him all sorts of wise counsel, and I looked 
 up to Lucy, and Lucy was gracious to me. 
 
 I had taken my stand as one of the best scholars in 
 school, and the master gave me approving glances. The 
 minister cast benignant eyes on me, when I stood lounging 
 at his front gate under the sugar maples, of an evening, and 
 talked over it to Lucy. Sometimes he would look out of 
 his study window and say, " Come in, my son," and then 
 I came and sat on the front steps. It was so pleasant to 
 hear Lucy call me Mr. Somers, and ask my opinion about 
 the last poem of the day, and to hold grave discussions with 
 her on all sorts of subjects. 
 
 Punctually on Wednesday evening I called to walk with 
 her to the weekly evening lecture, sat by her side, and sung 
 out of the same hymn-book. I regarded myself as far 
 along in my pilgrimage of virtue, established in a sort of 
 Palace Beautiful, and Lucy figured in my eyes as the fair 
 damsel named Discretion, who kept the door. I did not 
 know how near to the Palace Beautiful of boys often lies 
 the Valley of Humiliation, but into this valley it was my 
 fortune to make a pretty rapid descent. 
 
 There were rumors that two more boys were expected in 
 No. 2 ; and one night, when I sauntered in from my even 
 ing stroll, I found Tom Danforth in possession. 
 
 " Why, is n t El Vinton here ? " he said. " I expected 
 to find him." 
 
THE MINISTERS WATERMELONS 239 
 
 I had n t even heard of El Yinton, and said so. 
 
 " Not heard of him ! Why, he s one of your Beacon 
 Street mags/ 7 said Tom. " His father lives in a palace 
 right opposite the Frog Pond, there on Beacon Street. 
 El s jolly ; he s up to everything that s going. We were 
 in the Latin School together. I came here to chum with 
 him." 
 
 " Why does n t he stay in the Latin School, then ? " 
 said I, not well pleased with the idea of this Boston mag, 
 as Tom called him. 
 
 " Well, El s up to too many tricks, you see. The fact 
 is, he s been blowing a little too strong, and his governor 
 is going to rusticate him. Sent him here because it is such 
 a sweet little innocent place. El says he don t care a darn ; 
 he can have jolly times anywhere." 
 
 And sure enough, that evening El came down in state 
 and style on the top of the stage, and took possession in 
 our quiet chamber with an abundance of racket. 
 
 " Hello, fellows ! Who s here ? " he said, when he 
 broke into the apartment. " You what s your name ? " 
 
 " Somers is my name," I said, endeavoring to maintain 
 that mild dignity of demeanor which I had read about in 
 story-books. 
 
 " My dear fellow, don t attempt that style," he said, as 
 he seated himself on the table among my Latin books, and 
 swung his feet in a free-and-easy manner. " Cultivate 
 simplicity, my son, and tell your grandfather your name, 
 like a good boy." 
 
 I could n t help laughing. Tom and Jimmy laughed, 
 too, and I felt rather uncomfortable as I said, " Well, my 
 name is William." 
 
 " Well, then, here we all are, Tom, Bill, Jim, and 
 your humble servant, El Yinton," he said; "just a jolly 
 room full. Now hand out the toothbrush mugs, or what 
 ever drinking weapons you ve got, and let s drink to better 
 
240 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 acquaintance. Tom, haul that hamper this way. Let s 
 make friends with these natives. I m abominably thirsty." 
 
 In a moment a bottle of claret was produced from a 
 well-stuffed hamper, the top dexterously knocked off with 
 a skillful blow by El Vinton, and we were discussing 
 crackers, and cheese, and claret with our new friend. 
 
 Now, in my native village of Blueberry, I had signed 
 a temperance pledge, and at first I had some faint scruples, 
 and said that I never took wine, but the new ruler of the 
 apartment put me down with, 
 
 " Ah, now, my boy, don t come the moral dodge, 
 nothing but weak red ink, you know ! I knew the grub 
 here 7 d be abominable, and so I came stocked, and share 
 all round ? s my motto, nothing that can intoxicate, of 
 course," he added, with a wink at Tom Danforth. 
 
 Tom laughed, and seemed to think this was a capital 
 joke. 
 
 Altogether we two innocent country boys seemed to be 
 taken possession of by the new occupants of the room. 
 Boys have the phrase " Coming it over one," and, like most 
 phrases coined out of life, it expresses a real fact. Elliot 
 Vinton " came it over " us both the very first evening, and 
 settled himself as lord paramount in our apartment. 
 
 We certainly passed a very merry evening, and Elliot 
 made himself most entertaining, recounting scenes and ex 
 ploits of wild school-boy life in Boston, and Tom chorused 
 the laugh always. 
 
 To be sure I could not help feeling, sometimes, that 
 Elliot s jokes bore rather hard on poor folks. Eor exam 
 ple, he told, with great gusto, how they served an oyster- 
 man, one night, in Boston. In those days the oystermen 
 used to cry the oysters through the streets of an evening. 
 They commonly had a bag of shell oysters over their 
 shoulder, and a pail full of opened oysters in their hand, 
 so as to serve out either on demand of their customers. 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 241 
 
 " This was the way we fixed em/ said Elliot. " Tom 
 and a lot of fellows stood round a corner holding the ends 
 of a stout line, with a strong codfish hook in it. I takes 
 this in my hand and walks up to him just as he comes 
 past the corner. 
 
 " Hollo, mister/ says I, 1 1 want some of your oysters 
 there in that air pail. I had a little pail in my hand, as 
 if I had come up to buy. At the same time I struck the 
 cod-hook into his bag. 
 
 t( Down came his bag on the sidewalk, while he stooped 
 to open his pail. Whisk went the bag up the street. 
 
 " < Hollo ! what s that ? says he ; and he started off 
 after it. But away went the bag round the corner. The 
 minute his back was turned I caught the pail and was off 
 round another corner. You ought to have seen how funny 
 the old fellow looked. His old coat-tails flapped, and he 
 flew round and round like a cat after her tail. He grabbed 
 right and left no bag, no pail one gone round one cor 
 ner, and one round the other before you could say Jack 
 Robinson. Oh, it was funny ! " 
 
 Now, when a set of boys are eating crackers, and drink 
 ing claret, and laughing, and the laugh once gets going, it 
 is hard to stop it, and I laughed over the story with the 
 rest, but with a sort of misgiving at my heart. 
 
 I felt as if I ought to say something, and finally I cleared 
 my throat and said, " But after all it was n t doing quite 
 the fair thing, was it ? Poor old fellow ! " 
 
 "Oh, these oystermen get no end of money/ he said, 
 carelessly. " They build houses and own whole blocks. 
 They can afford to give us boys a joke, now and then. Be 
 sides, I made it up to him. We bought oysters every night 
 of him for six months." 
 
 " But that did n t pay him for those you stole/ I said. 
 
 " Stole ! We did n t steal. We only hooked them, my 
 son," said Elliot, with a toss of his curls and a patronizing 
 
242 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 smile. " There s all the difference in the world between 
 hooking and stealing, my boy. Nobody ever calls such 
 scrapes stealing ! " 
 
 Elliot had such a condescending, knowing air of explain 
 ing things to us, and then his whiskers were full grown, and 
 he had a decided mustache, and sported a gold watch, with 
 an elegant chain, and altogether seemed so much a man of 
 the world, that there is no wonder we let him lay down the 
 law to us. 
 
 After the claret came a roll of cigars, and he handed one 
 all round. 
 
 " I never smoke," said I. 
 
 " Time you did, then," he said, tilting back in his chair 
 and lighting his cigar luxuriously. " Must be a first time 
 for everything, my boy." 
 
 Jimmy looked up in an undecided way to me, and I 
 played with my cigar carelessly, while Elliot and Tom were 
 soon puffing magnificently. 
 
 " You 11 have to smoke in self-defense, my dear fellow," 
 said Elliot, laughing. " You may as well have your own 
 smoke as ours." 
 
 " Oh, I don t mind a cigar, now and then, just for com 
 pany," said I, carelessly lighting mine. 
 
 Jimmy upon this lit his, and the room was soon blue 
 with smoke. Now I had solemnly promised my mother 
 not to smoke, and the thought of this promise came rather 
 uneasily into my mind, but I said to myself, "A fellow 
 does n t want to be a wet blanket so just for this once ! " 
 
 Pretty soon Jimmy began to look pale, and after a few 
 uneasy minutes rushed to the chamber-window and began 
 vomiting. 
 
 " Give him a stiffener, Tom," said Elliot ; and Tom drew 
 out of the hamper a flask of brandy, and adroitly mixed a 
 stiffener of brandy and water, which Elliot administered 
 with a paternal air, making Jimmy lie down on the bed. 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 243 
 
 " Never mind, my boy, you re green," he said. " You 11 
 get used to it after a little. Always make a fellow sick at 
 first. Gracious me, how sick my first cigar made me ! I 
 think I was about your age. Here, set the windows open, 
 and give him fresh air ; and, Tom, you and I 11 go down 
 and finish in the street." 
 
 " Oh, you can t do that," said I ; " it s contrary to the 
 rules of the academy, and you d be hauled up at once." 
 
 " Tom, this gets interesting," said El. " If there s any 
 thing that gives a charm to life, it s a fight with these 
 Dons. I half plagued their lives out in the Latin School." 
 
 " Well," said I, " Mr. Exeter is a pretty resolute fellow. 
 It s a word and a blow with him, and if fellows don t keep 
 up to the chalk mark, he just sends em off." 
 
 " All the jollier," said El, " but that sha n t hinder my 
 smoke the first evening. I ain t supposed to know the 
 rules. To-morrow, you know, I shall find em out." And 
 so saying, El and Tom sallied down into the little moonlit 
 street, with their cigars in their mouths, walking grandly 
 up and down with their hands in their pockets, Avhile I sat, 
 crestfallen and self-condemned, in the window, watching 
 them. 
 
 As they came into the broad glare of the full moon, they 
 met Lucy, leading by the hand her younger sister. I re 
 member how pretty she looked, all in white, with her head 
 of golden curls shining like a mist in the mysterious moon 
 shine. I felt myself getting very hot and red, as I sat 
 there in the window-seat, thinking how I had been spending 
 my evening. There was my lesson unlearned, Jimmy groan 
 ing in bed with a raging headache, from the brandy and 
 cigar, and I, who had thought myself so manly, and felt so 
 sure of my principles, and had given him so much excellent 
 advice, had gone down before the first touch of temptation ! 
 
 The foolish fear of being thought green had upset all my 
 good resolutions, and made me break all my promises. I 
 
244 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 could n t help seeing that the desire to appear manly had 
 led me to do the most sneaking unmanly thing in my life. 
 My example had misled Jimmy, and I had lost his respect. 
 In short, I could not help seeing that that one evening had 
 made El Vinton master in our room. For if a man or boy 
 is going to hold his own against another, he must begin in 
 time. There >s an old proverb, " If you say A, you must 
 say B." If I had been going to keep my temperance pledge 
 and my promise to my mother about smoking, then and 
 there, on that first evening, was the time to have stood to it. 
 The battle had come on and I had shown the white feather 
 the very first moment. 
 
 The sight of Lucy made me feel all this the more, be 
 cause in the short time of our acquaintance I had been 
 very confidential, and told her all about my temperance 
 pledge and my promise about tobacco, and she had said 
 how much it increased her respect for me ; and Lucy s 
 respect was worth more to me even than my own. How 
 I did despise myself ! How mean and cowardly I seemed 
 to myself ! 
 
 El and Tom came back in high spirits. 
 
 " We passed a very nice P. G.," said El. " I wonder 
 who she is. 7 
 
 " Her curls are stunning," said Tom. 
 
 " That was Miss Lucy Sewell you passed," said I. " She 
 is the minister s daughter." 
 
 " She 11 do, Tom," said El. " If I can find a decent 
 team in this place, I ll trot her out some time this week." 
 
 The cup of my misery was full. 
 
Ill 
 
 EL VINTON proved to be a good scholar. The Boston 
 Latin School generally turned out such, and El stood high, 
 even there. 
 
 In truth, he was one of those bright, quick fellows for 
 whom the ordinary lessons of school are not employment 
 enough who can keep at the head of their classes with 
 but little outlay of time and thought and so he soon 
 took a high stand in his classes, with very little study. In 
 fact, he did not scruple, in our room, to assume the airs of 
 a gentleman of elegant leisure. He had a stock of novels, 
 over which he lounged easily, while Jimmy and I were 
 digging at our lessons with care-worn faces and he con 
 trived to do pretty much what he chose, spite of monitors, 
 rules, and teachers. 
 
 He was a general favorite with the boys, and more so 
 with the girls, who seemed to regard him as a sort of 
 young nobleman in disguise. 
 
 There was, however, one exception. Lucy Sewell had 
 a clear, cool, distant way of looking at him out of her blue 
 eyes, that was quite surprising to him. 
 
 " Hang that girl ! " he said, one day, as he stood at his 
 glass ; " she don t seem to appreciate me. Well, I must 
 give her a drive, and have a little private conversation 
 with her." 
 
 And El posted off to the only livery stable in town to 
 get up what he called a decent turnout. This was two or 
 three days after the evening I have described. 
 
 I can t tell anybody what a wretched, subjugated, kept- 
 
246 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 down kind of life I was leading. The fear of El Vinton s 
 ridicule, and a sort of anxious sense of what he would think 
 of what I said and did, embarrassed me day and night. 
 
 Then I was uncomfortable with Lucy, because I felt as 
 if I had forfeited all pretensions to her respect j and when 
 with her I was constantly wondering what she would think 
 of me, if she knew just how miserably weak I had been. 
 
 Added to all this, I was wretched to think El Vinton 
 was going to take her to ride. It seemed so manly and 
 grand to have all the money one wanted, and be able to go 
 to livery-stables and order turnouts, and here was I with 
 not a nine-pence for spending-money ! I thought I had 
 money enough the two weeks before El came, but now 
 things looked quite changed to my view. A week ago, to 
 escort Lucy to the Wednesday evening lecture seemed to 
 be all I could ask, but now I saw a wider sphere of desire 
 opening before me ; and when El Vinton came driving up 
 street that afternoon, bowing, and kissing his hand to the 
 girls as he passed, in his showy buggy, with a fast horse, I 
 felt bitter repiniiigs. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he came in that evening, " I ve 
 got a decentish affair, considering the place, and now I 
 shall go and engage my girl for to-morrow." So, after an 
 elaborate arrangement of necktie, he started over to the 
 minister s to make his call. 
 
 He was gone about half an hour, and then came back in 
 a very ill humor. 
 
 " What time are you going to-morrow ? " said Tom. 
 
 " She won t go at all," said El. 
 
 " What >a the matter ? " 
 
 " Oh, she says her father don t approve of her riding 
 out with young gentlemen." 
 
 " What an old tyrant ! " said Tom. " I say, El, she 
 might meet you accidentally, and he know nothing about 
 it." 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 247 
 
 "Well, that s just what I proposed to her/ said El. 
 " I wish you could have seen her ! Why, the girl actually 
 seemed to take it as an insult ! She stood up so straight, 
 that really I thought her feet were going off the carpet, 
 and said she was astonished that I should propose such a 
 thing. She s a real prig, that girl is ; a regular stiff, 
 green-spectacled school-ma am." 
 
 " That sounds like sour grapes," said I, immensely de 
 lighted with the result of the transaction, and thinking 
 more of Lucy than ever. 
 
 " Well," said El, shaking his shoulders, " I 11 go and 
 ask one of those Seymour girls. One of them shook her 
 handkerchief out of the window at me when I drove by 
 this afternoon. The loss will be her own I m sure / 
 don t care. If she don t want to ride, I don t know why 
 I should want to take her." 
 
 It is the way of our selfish sex, I suppose, but it is a 
 fact, nevertheless, that nothing makes a girl s good opinion 
 more precious in our eyes, than to hear that she has been 
 snubbing some other fellow. That which anybody may 
 have, we set small value on, but the girl who makes dis 
 tinctions, if she happens to be gracious to us, is forthwith a 
 peg higher in our esteem. I had supposed, of course, that 
 El Vinton s dashing air, and his many advantages of person, 
 wealth, and position, would carry all before them, and I 
 must say I was surprised at his receiving this repulse from 
 Lucy. 
 
 It was Wednesday evening, and I called to ask her to go 
 to the lecture. Yes, she would go and down she came 
 in the distracting little white bonnet, with the wreath of 
 sweet peas upon it, and we walked off to lecture in the 
 most edifying manner. I expatiated on our new room 
 mate, and tried to draw out Lucy s opinion of him. 
 
 " To be frank with you, Mr. Somers, I do not like Mr. 
 Vinton," she said. 
 
248 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 " How charming of her ! " was the immediate language of 
 my heart j but I said, " Why, he is just the person I sup 
 posed you would be quite carried away with." 
 
 " Then you know very little of me or my taste, 7 said 
 Lucy. " I have heard a good deal of this El Yinton, and 
 think it is rather a misfortune that he has been sent to our 
 academy. He is a rich, fast, drinking, smoking boy, just 
 the one to lead young boys astray." 
 
 " He 7 s a real jolly fellow/ 7 said I, feeling in honor 
 bound to say something. 
 
 " I dare say he is," she said, " but I think he is a dan 
 gerous companion. Then that little Jimmy Seaforth, in 
 your room ! He is a delicate boy, and his mother is con 
 stantly anxious about him. She told father all about it. 
 His father died a drunkard, and his mother is very anxious 
 lest he should form any bad habits. So she sent him here 
 because Mr. Exeter is so particular with his boys, to keep 
 dangerous influences out of their way. If it were not that 
 you were in the same room with him I should feel troubled 
 about Jimmy, but you will keep him straight, I know. 77 
 
 This conversation took place as we were walking home 
 from lecture. This commendation from Lucy fell like a 
 pound of lead on my heart. I felt like a miserable, degraded 
 sneak, as I walked by her side in silence. I was appalled, 
 too, by what she told me of Jimmy, for during the fortnight 
 following El Vinton 7 s arrival Jimmy had seemed quite 
 enkindled with the ambition to learn to smoke, and was in 
 the habit of keeping off the qualmish feelings thus brought 
 on by the aforementioned stiffeners of brandy and water. 
 
 The conviction that I had helped to lead him astray, by 
 not standing my ground that first night, now became un 
 pleasantly strong in my mind. What a fool I had been ! 
 Why did I not at first declare my temperance principles, 
 and my promise to my mother. A little firmness then 
 might have cost me an effort, but it would have made my 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 249 
 
 after-way easy. Now I was every day miserably conscious 
 of being under a sort of slavery. I did not smoke very 
 often. I excused myself, when invited, on various pleas. 
 It did not agree with me. It confused my head. It hurt 
 my eyes, and so on. In the same manner I sometimes took 
 a sip of El s wine, but generally apologized for declining 
 it. 
 
 All this did no good. It was no testimony to principle, 
 one way nor the other. But what frightened me to think 
 of was that Jimmy seemed to be developing a real taste, 
 both for tobacco and for drink. How horrid, I thought, if 
 there should be a serpent lying coiled up at the bottom of 
 the poor boy s heart, which these things should rouse and 
 strengthen, till it should strangle him ! 
 
 All this dimly came before my mind as I walked silently 
 by Lucy s side, but I had not courage to tell her the whole 
 story. I thought once or twice I would do it ; but it is 
 very hard when you see that people evidently have a very 
 high esteem for you, to begin deliberately to pull yourself 
 down in their eyes. I think Lucy must have wondered 
 what made me so absent and silent, for in the conflict of 
 my mind I often quite forgot to talk. 
 
 " What in the world has come over you ? " said Lucy to 
 me, finally, after I had been standing looking gloomily over 
 the gate after she had passed through it that night, and 
 turned, as her custom was, for a little farewell chat in the 
 moonlight. " I was thinking of Jimmy," said I. 
 
 " I knew you would feel it," she said, with enthusiasm. 
 " I know Jimmy s mother, and last week I wrote her how 
 fortunate it was that he had you for a room-mate." 
 
 I could have kicked myself, in the utterness of my self- 
 contempt, and I abruptly bade Lucy good-evening, and 
 turned away. 
 
IV 
 
 THINGS went on in this way for some weeks. Boys, and 
 men, too, sometimes, by a single step, and that step taken 
 in a sudden hurry of inconsideration, get into a net-work of 
 false positions, in which they are very uneasy and unhappy, 
 but live along, from day to day, seeing no way out. 
 
 This was my ease. I was in false relations with Lucy, 
 feeling that she thought altogether too well of me, but did 
 not have the courage to undeceive her. 
 
 I was in false relations with Jimmy, having assumed the 
 part of a true friend to him, and now wanting the steadi 
 ness and firmness necessary to save him from the danger 
 ous courses into which he was entering. 
 
 El Vinton s whirl of animal spirits, his wit and fun, kept 
 a sort of vortex round him, into which it appeared impos 
 sible to get a serious consideration. The slightest attempt 
 in me to say a word of the kind was shouted down by the 
 general laugh of the room. 
 
 My conscience was so stirred by what Lucy had said to 
 me, that I tried, as far as I was concerned personally, to 
 keep out of the smoking, and drinking, and violation of 
 school rules that went on in our room, and for that I was 
 voted a wet blanket, a muff, and sometimes El would ask 
 me if I intended to report them to Mr. Exeter, or the par 
 son. 
 
 The thing came to a crisis in an attack on the minister s 
 watermelon patch, as I am about to relate. 
 
 For two or three days El Vinton and Tom and Jimmy 
 had seemed to have some plan on foot from which I was 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 251 
 
 excluded. There was a great deal of chaffing and laughing 
 among them, and passing of catch-words from one to 
 another ; and it was evident that something was going on 
 which was not to be communicated to me. 
 
 One evening, just at twilight, El proposed that we should 
 all go in swimming together in a neighboring pond. The 
 evening was delightful it had been a hot August day 
 the full moon was just rising, and would light our way 
 home. El Vinton put his arm in mine, and made himself 
 unusually gracious and agreeable. In fact, he usually did 
 that, and if he had not possessed that easy, jolly kind of 
 way, I think I should not have borne as I did the sort of 
 dictation he exercised over us all. 
 
 He rattled, and chattered, and talked all the way to the 
 pond, and we had a glorious swim. By the time we started 
 to return home, it was broad, clear moonlight, clear enough 
 to see to read by. 
 
 We came along cross-lots, swishing through the high, 
 dewy meadow-grass, and I gathered, as I went, handfuls of 
 bright, spicy wild roses and golden lilies, as a bouquet for 
 Lucy. Suddenly we came to the minister s watermelon 
 patch, and I was going to propose that we should make a 
 circuit round it, to avoid tramping the vines, when El Yin- 
 ton, putting one hand on the top rail, swung himself over, 
 saying, 
 
 " Now for it, boys ! Here s a dessert for us ! " 
 
 The boys followed him, and forthwith began, in the 
 bright moonlight, sounding the melons. 
 
 " Take care, fellows ! " said El. " I m the judge of ripe 
 ness. Don t cut till I give verdict." 
 
 " Boys," said I, " what are you doing ? " 
 
 " Oh, you 11 see if you live long enough," said El, coolly 
 cutting off one or two fine melons, and taking them to a 
 retired spot under a large tree. " This way, Tom, with that 
 one. Jimmy, don t you cut any ; let me cut them." 
 
252 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 "But," said I, " boys, this is too bad. This is Mr. Sew- 
 ell s patch the minister. 7 
 
 "All the better," said EL " Just as if we did n t know 
 that. I would n t have taken Deacon Sharpe s, for I know 
 they would give us a stomach-ache ; but Mr. Se well s are 
 your real Christian melons won t hurt anybody." 
 
 The boys all laughed as they sat down under the tree, 
 and El began cutting up a great, ripe, red melon. I stood 
 irresolute. 
 
 " Perhaps you had better run and tell of us," said El. 
 
 " I think it s a shame for you to say that, El Vinton," 
 said I. " You know it s unjust." 
 
 " Well, so t is," he said, with a frank, dashing air. " I 
 know, Bill, that you are as good-hearted a fellow as 
 breathes, and any one that says you are a sneak or a spy, 
 1 11 fight him. So sit down with us." 
 
 " But seriously," said I, sitting down, " I must expostu 
 late." 
 
 " Well, wet your whistle first, "said El, cutting a great 
 fresh piece, and holding it up to my mouth. 
 
 Now, if you imagine a thirsty boy, on a hot August 
 night, with a cool, trickling slice of watermelon held right 
 to his lips, you will, perhaps, see how it was that I ate my 
 slice of watermelon before I was well aware what I did. 
 
 " Goes down pretty well, don t it ? " said El, stroking 
 my back. " You see there s nothing like your real ortho 
 dox, pious melons. Why, I don t doubt that there s grace 
 grown into these melons that will set us a long way on in 
 saintship." 
 
 There was a general laugh at this sally, and I laughed, 
 too, but still said, in an uneasy voice, 
 
 " After all, El, it is n t handsome to take the minister s 
 melons in this way." 
 
 " Bless you ! " said El, " it is n t the melons we care for, 
 it ? s the fun. Let s see. These melons are worth, say 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 253 
 
 half a dollar apiece ; that s a liberal estimate. Well, sup 
 pose we eat six of them ; that s three dollars ! What s 
 three dollars ? " he said, with a magnificent slap of his 
 pocket. " Now I, for one, am ready to plank down five 
 dollars, this minute, as my part of a subscription to get Sew- 
 ell a concordance, or a cyclopaedia, or set of Shakespeare, 
 or any such thing as folks give to ministers ; but I want 
 my fun out of him, you see. I want my melons in this 
 pastoral way, just when I feel like eating em, and 
 enough of them, and so here goes a roarer," giving a 
 smart slash of his knife across the third melon. 
 
 And so, on and on we went, never knowing that Abner 
 Stearns, the parson s hired man, had his eye at a hole in 
 the shrubbery, and was taking an exact account of us. Long 
 before we left the fields, Abner had made his way across the 
 lots, and detailed to Mr. Sewell the whole that he had seen 
 and heard. 
 
 " There s one on em, that are Bill Somers, he 
 seemed rather to go agin it, but they would n t hear to it, 
 and kind o roped him in among em," said Abner. " And 
 now, Mr. Sewell, if you say so, I can jest go up with you 
 to Mr. Exeter, with this ere story, cause I got a good look 
 at every one on em, and knows exactly who they be, and I 
 can testify on em slick as a whistle. That air Yinton boy, 
 from Boston, he s the head o the hull. I haint never had 
 no great opinion o him. He s up to every kind o shine, 
 and jest the one to rope in other boys." 
 
 " Well, Abner," said Mr. Sewell, " I have my own plan 
 about this affair, and you must promise me not to say a 
 single word about it to any human being, not even to your 
 wife." 
 
 "That s pretty well put in, too," said Abner, "for if I 
 told Cinthy, she d want to tell Dolly Ann, and Dolly Ann, 
 she d want to tell Dolly, and t would be all over town afore 
 night." 
 
254 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 " Precisely so," said the minister, " but my plan requires 
 absolute silence. I can t manage without." 
 
 " Go ahead, Parson Sewell," said Abner, " I 11 be dumb 
 as a catfish," and Abner went home, wondering what the 
 minister s plan was. 
 
 " Lucy," said Mr. Sewell, coming out of his study, " I 
 think we had four nice, ripe melons put down cellar this 
 morning, did n t we ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Well, I m going to invite the boys over to the oppo 
 site house to a little melon supper. I ll bring up the 
 melons, and you set out a table, and I 11 go over and invite 
 them." 
 
 Now, as Lucy had particularly friendly feelings towards, 
 at least, one boy in the lot, she set about her hospitality 
 with alacrity. 
 
 We were coming up the street in the full, broad moon 
 light. 
 
 " I tell you," said El, " I m about as full as I can wag. 
 It s wonderful how watermelons can fill a fellow up. I feel 
 as I used to after a Thanksgiving dinner." 
 
 " So do I," said Tom. " I could n t really get down 
 another morsel." 
 
 At this moment, as we turned the corner to our boarding- 
 house, Mr. Sewell stood out plain before us, in the moon 
 light. 
 
 " Good -evening, young gentlemen," he said, in a bland, 
 polite tone. "I ve been looking for you." 
 
 Our hearts all thumped, I fancy, a little quicker than be 
 fore, but Mr. Sewell was so calm and polite, it could not be 
 that he suspected where we had been. 
 
 "I ve been looking for you," said Mr. Sewell, "just to 
 ask you to step in a few moments and eat watermelons with 
 us. We have a splendid lot of nice, ripe watermelons, and 
 I thought you could help us to put some of them away." 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 255 
 
 I saw El give Tom Danforth a look of despair ; but of 
 course there was nothing to be done but seem highly de 
 lighted and honored, and we followed Mr. Sewell into the 
 house and to a table piled with ripe melons, for which, 
 wearied and cloyed as we were, we had to feign a boy s fresh 
 appetite. 
 
 Mr. Sewell was pressing. He cut and carved without 
 mercy would not hear an apology, piled up our plates 
 with new slices before we had half demolished the old ones, 
 while we munched away with the courage of despair. 
 
 Lucy was there, doing her part of the hospitality in the 
 prettiest and most graceful manner possible. 
 
 I had reasons of my own why the feast seemed almost to 
 choke me. I had eaten very little of the melons in the 
 lot, but the sense of the meanness of my conduct oppressed 
 me. I could not bear to meet Lucy s eyes and Mr. 
 Sewell s politeness was dreadful to me. I rather fancy that 
 there never was a set of boys who groaned more in spirit 
 over a delicious banquet than we over those melons. It 
 was in vain we made excuses ; feigned modesty, delicacy ; 
 said, " No, I thank you/ 7 and so on. The hospitality was 
 so pressing, and our guilty consciences made us so afraid of 
 being suspected, that we nearly killed ourselves in the 
 effort. But at last we had to stop short of what was pro 
 vided for us. 
 
 There was a sort of subdued twinkle in Mr. Sewell s eye, 
 as he bade us good-night, that struck me singularly. It 
 was like a sudden flash of lightning on a dark night. I 
 felt perfectly sure that somehow he knew all about us. 
 I felt my cheeks flame up to my hair, and my misery was 
 at its climax. 
 
 When we stumbled home the boys were alternately laugh 
 ing and groaning, and declaring that the parson had caught 
 them ; but I stumbled into bed, blind and despairing. Oh, 
 the misery of utter shame and self-contempt ! I really 
 
256 THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 
 
 wished I had never been born ; I wished I had never come 
 to Highland Academy ; never known Lucy or Mr. Sewell ; 
 wished that El Vinton had kept a thousand miles away ; 
 and, finally, it occurred to me to wish the right wish which 
 lay at the bottom of all, that I had had sense and man 
 liness enough, weeks ago, to begin with my room-mates as 
 I knew I ought to go on, and not get into the miserable 
 tangle which had ended in this disgrace ! 
 
 I did not sleep a wink that night, and next morning, 
 at five o clock, I was up, and seeing Mr. Sewell out in his 
 garden, I resolved to go to him and make a clean breast 
 of it. 
 
 I went and told him I wanted to see him alone, and went 
 with him into his study and told him what a miserable, 
 silly fool I had been for the few weeks past. 
 
 " I tell you, Mr. Sewell, because I won t play the hypo 
 crite any longer," I said. " Lucy thinks a great deal too 
 well of me ; and you have been a great deal too kind to 
 me ; and I thought I might as well let you see just how 
 mistaken you had been in me, and what a mean, miserable 
 humbug I am." 
 
 " Oh no, not quite a humbug," said Mr. Sewell, smiling. 
 " Courage, my boy. You 7 ve made a clean breast of it, and 
 now you ve got down to firm ground, I think. It s just 
 as well to get through this kind of experience while you 
 are a boy, if you are one of those that can learn anything 
 by experience." 
 
 " But now I don t know what to do," said I. "I am 
 wrong all round ; and seem to have lost the power of doing 
 right." 
 
 " Well, you have made it pretty hard to do right," he 
 said ; " but if you ve pluck enough now, to face about, and 
 to tell your room-mates just what you have told me, 
 that you have been going wrong, but that you are deter 
 mined now to do right, and having told them so, if you 
 
THE MINISTER S WATERMELONS 257 
 
 will keep to it with steadiness for a week or two, you may 
 get back the ground that you never ought to have lost in 
 the first place. It s tremendously hard to face about when 
 you have been yielding, but it can be done." 
 
 " It shall be done/ 7 said I ; and I took my hat up and 
 walked over to our room, and got the boys together and 
 made my speech to them. I blamed nobody but myself. 
 I told them I had acted like a sneak ; and that I did n t 
 wonder they had no respect for me, but I told them I meant 
 to be done acting like a sneak, and be a man; that I 
 should, for the future, keep from drinking and smoking, 
 and breaking school rules, and that if they would join me, 
 well and good, but if they didn t, it should make no 
 difference. 
 
 Mr. Sewell that same day sent for El Vinton and Jimmy, 
 and had a talk with them, and matters in our room began 
 to wear quite another appearance. 
 
 " I tell you, fellows," said El Vinton, " it was rather 
 bully of the parson not to blow on us. Exeter would have 
 turned us out of school in less than no time. And Sewell 
 gave me some precious good counsel," he added ; " and on 
 the whole, I don t know but I 11 make an experiment of 
 the ways of virtue." 
 
 I had a penitential confession to make to Lucy, but she 
 took it like an angel. The fact was, she seemed determined 
 to make the best of me a course in which she has per 
 severed ever since. 
 
 Mrs. William Somers having just looked over this manu 
 script, is of opinion that I have said too much about Lucy ; 
 but I am not. 
 
 The moral of my tale I leave every boy to make out for 
 himself. 
 
A DOG S MISSION 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE AND THE OLD WOMAN 
 
 " THE old house " of the city of Hindford stood upon a 
 fashionable avenue, with city pavements in front and ele 
 gant brick mansions on either side. 
 
 It was a sort of ancient phenomenon, standing there 
 amid smart modern houses, on a gay and bustling street; 
 for it was an old brown wooden farm-house, of the kind that 
 our ancestors used to build in days of primitive simplicity 
 a hundred years ago. It was a two-story house in front, 
 but the long roof sloped down behind, till a child might 
 easily jump from it on to the ground. 
 
 It had never been painted ; its shingles were here and 
 there green with patches of moss. Certain enterprising 
 shrubs had seeded themselves in the eave-troughs, and 
 formed a fantastic nodding fringe along the edges, that 
 made the old house look as queer as antiquated nodding 
 finery makes an old face. 
 
 The clapboards here and there were curled with age and 
 starting from the timbers ; the lintel of the door had sunk 
 so that the door-posts stood awry ; the door-steps were 
 broken and sunken like old grave-stones, and green with 
 dank clinging moss. 
 
 Of course there were in front, as must be about every old 
 New England house, the inseparable lilac trees ; but these 
 had grown to weird and preternatural proportions, looking 
 
THE OLD HOUSE AND THE OLD WOMAN 259 
 
 into the chamber windows, and even here and there brush 
 ing the herbage of the eave-troughs. Their stems below 
 were gnarled and wreathed, and covered with bright yellow 
 lichen, making their whole air as quaint and witch-like as 
 the rest of the surroundings. 
 
 A narrow strip of front door-yard was inclosed by a de 
 moralized old picket-fence ; the gate swung unevenly on its 
 hinges, and like everything else about the ancient dwelling, 
 looked forlorn and dreary. 
 
 The house, as we have said, stood on one of the fine driv 
 ing avenues of Hindford, and elegant carriages and prancing 
 horses went by it every day ; and everybody said, 
 
 " What a queer old witch-like house ! How strange 
 that it should be on this street ! Who lives there ? " 
 
 The answer was, " Oh, that ? s the old Avery place. It 
 can t be sold till old Miss Zarviah Avery dies ; she has the 
 life-right, and she won t live anywhere else." 
 
 In fact this old Avery house was the decaying relic of a 
 farm that had once lain quite out in the country near the 
 town of Hindford, but the city had grown and traveled 
 and thrown out its long arms here and there, and drawn 
 into its embrace suburb after suburb, cutting streets and 
 avenues through what was once farm and woodland, and so 
 this old brown farm-house was left a stranded wreck of the 
 old village life, standing by itself, and seeming to frown 
 with a sullen amazement on a street of modern fine houses. 
 
 Miss Zarviah Avery was a human wreck like the house. 
 Her village cronies had sold out, or moved off, or died ; 
 her family, all but one brother, were dead ; nobody came 
 to see her, and she visited nobody. 
 
 She was punctual in her seat in the neighboring church 
 every Sunday, and sat always conspicuously on the front 
 seat in the weekly prayer-meeting, where her phenomenal 
 bonnets, her old-fashioned dress, and high, shaking voice, 
 as she intoned the hymns, moved the mirth of that younger 
 
260 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 generation, who think all the world is a show for their 
 amusement. 
 
 She also was a punctual though silent attendant of the 
 weekly female prayer-meeting. It was said Miss Zarviah 
 never had uttered her voice among the sisters but once, 
 when, in a faded old green calash and a shrunken washed- 
 out merino shawl, she uttered an emphatic testimony against 
 the vanity of dress and the temptations to worldliness in 
 this regard. 
 
 The old inhabitants of Hindford said that Miss Zarviah 
 came of a very respectable family. Her father, Squire 
 Avery, was a deacon in the church, selectman in the vil 
 lage, and a thriving, well-to-do farmer, but the family had 
 dropped away one by one, and she was left, like the last 
 fluttering leaf of the gaunt catalpa in her door-yard, deso 
 late and without a kindred leaf to speak to. 
 
 When both parents died Miss Zarviah was left guardian 
 of a younger brother about ten years of age, who with her 
 self was joint heir to the estate. Now Miss Zarviah loved 
 her brother with all her heart, but, unluckily, she felt it her 
 duty to show her love in ways that make a boy specially 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 She was always checking and reproving him, and setting 
 his sins in order before him. These were many. He came 
 in without wiping his shoes ; he hung his hat on the wrong 
 nail, or did n t hang it anywhere ; he slopped water when 
 he went to help himself to it ; he whistled ; he drummed ; 
 he brought home and domesticated a puppy who was seven 
 fold more mischievous than he was. 
 
 He was always taming rabbits and squirrels and birds, 
 who all made litter and dirt. Above all, he whittled from 
 morning till night everywhere. 
 
 His clothes were in a chronic state of dilapidation, hat, 
 trousers, stockings, shoes, all giving out before his endless 
 activity. 
 
THE OLD HOUSE AND THE OLD WOMAN 261 
 
 Poor Miss Zarviah was in despair, and told him so in 
 varied phrases almost every hour of the twenty-four till he 
 began to have an uneasy sense of being a sinner all the 
 time, simply for being a boy. He was secretly of the opin 
 ion that his sister hated him, a point where he did her 
 the greatest injustice. 
 
 When he was fourteen years old he fell out of a boat in 
 one of his fishing expeditions, wet himself to the skin, and 
 had in consequence one of those good old-fashioned " runs " 
 of fever, that used to be the support of village doctors, and 
 Miss Zarviah nursed him with unfailing care and tenderness, 
 and used to rehearse to her friends how for ten days and 
 nights she never had her clothes off, nor got a regular night s 
 rest. 
 
 So her boy was nursed back from the very borders of the 
 grave, but as soon as he was up and well, he began again to 
 be a sinner, and Miss Zarviah to tell him so. 
 
 There is an age when the waves of manhood pour in on 
 the boy like the tides in the Bay of Fundy. He does not 
 know himself what to do with himself, and nobody else 
 knows, either ; and it is exactly at this point that many a 
 fine fellow has been ruined for want of faith and patience 
 and hope in those who have the care of him. 
 
 When Eben Avery was seventeen, he flung away from 
 the homestead and his sister at the end of a bitter discus 
 sion, in which many sharp and true things had been said on 
 both sides, and away he went to California, seeking his 
 fortune. 
 
 He never wrote. He had committed the oversight of his 
 share of the property to a faithful old lawyer, a friend of 
 his father, through whom Miss Zarviah heard only that he 
 was living and doing well, and so she was left alone. 
 
 But there was a sore spot in her old heart. A conscien 
 tious person should beware of getting into a passion, for 
 every sharp word one speaks comes back and lodges like a 
 
262 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 sliver in one s own heart ; and such slivers hurt us worse 
 than they ever can any one else. 
 
 It was true she was now mistress of the house, with not 
 a soul to disarrange any of her matters. She could clean 
 and shut up rooms, and nobody opened them. There was 
 no litter, no dirt anywhere, for there was nobody to make 
 any. She and her house were as clean and orderly as she 
 wanted to be ; nobody whittled ; nobody whistled ; there 
 were no footsteps to track the floors ; no tramping up and 
 down stairs. 
 
 The old clock ticked away hour after hour, the only sound 
 to be heard in the ancient dwelling. Miss Avery had a sort 
 of shivering, unspoken sense of lonesomeness. The waters 
 of life were freezing around her, and the circle unfrozen nar 
 rowed every year, as one crony and acquaintance after an 
 other dropped out of life and came no more. 
 
 Still, from year to year, she opened and aired chambers 
 that nobody ever slept in, and at stated intervals routed 
 everything out and conducted a severe house-cleaning where 
 no dirt had been made. As for her own personal quarters, 
 they had narrowed themselves down into one room, which 
 was to her bedroom, kitchen, and sitting-room. 
 
 The old family " keeping-room " was shut up and kept in 
 an immaculately clean state, with its bright brass andirons, 
 with a bright brass candlestick on each end of the mantel 
 piece. One day in a week she scrubbed the white floor on 
 her hands and knees, as also the table and dresser in like 
 manner. All her tins were brightened, and everything made 
 resplendent, and she sat down to her knitting victorious. 
 
 One would have said that she had nothing to do but to 
 rest on her laurels, but alas ! perfection is not for mortals. 
 
 The dust from the avenue before the house, kept lively 
 by whirling carriages, would filter through the cracks of the 
 old mansion, and rest on tables and chairs in a manner to 
 keep her combativeness on the stretch. 
 
THE OLD HOUSE AND THE OLD WOMAN 263 
 
 Then rats and mice bred, mustered, and multiplied in the 
 house. Certain cockroaches, too, had invaded the ancient 
 dwelling, and set up housekeeping in its old cracks and 
 crannies. In vain Miss Avery scolded, scrubbed, scoured ; 
 they throve and multiplied and grew impudently bold. 
 
 But the dust and the cockroaches, and the rats and the 
 mice, were nothing to another trial of Miss Zarviah s life, 
 the boys! 
 
 Back of her fence ran a little alley that abounded with 
 some of the noisiest and most graceless little wretches in 
 Hindford. These boys were in the habit of swarming 
 over her fence and through her yard as a shorter cut to the 
 avenue. 
 
 This, which was at first a matter of mere convenience, 
 became amusing to the boys when Miss Zarviah, broom in 
 hand, and with her mouth filled with objurgations, chased 
 them and ordered them out of her yard, and threatened them 
 with the police. 
 
 Then the matter became exciting, and the fun of making 
 old Witch Avery mad, cutting through her yard and over 
 her fence, and hearing her scold when safely lodged behind 
 it, was a stimulating form of recreation to these graceless 
 little wretches, and great were the glee of the boys and the 
 energetic rage of Miss Zarviah on one of these occasions, 
 which is the subject of our next chapter. 
 
 Such was Miss Zarviah, such her troubles and tribula 
 tions, when our story opens. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE DOG TAKES REFUGE WITH THE OLD WOMAN 
 
 IT was a dreary, dripping November night, just between 
 daylight and dusk. Miss Zarviah had hung on her lonely 
 tea-kettle, and was proceeding with her arrangements for 
 an evening meal, when, Whoop ! hurrah ! hallo ! and a 
 sound of a yelping dog and of pattering footsteps came 
 through her yard. 
 
 Instantly she seized the broom, and ran and opened the 
 back door. Something that looked like a draggled bundle 
 of rags swept by her into the house with a rattling noise, 
 and fled into the room and under her bed. 
 
 " Now, you wretches, if you don t get out this minute, 
 I ll " 
 
 Vigorous blows of the broom finished the sentence. The 
 little imps danced and shouted, but retreated towards the 
 fence. 
 
 " We want our dog. He 7 s run into your old house ! " 
 shouted the boldest. 
 
 " You sha n t have your dog ! and if you don t clear out, 
 I 11 call the watch ! " and Miss Avery seconded her words 
 with well-directed thwacks and thumps, which sent the 
 whole posse in a giggling cataract over the fence, behind 
 which rose such parting salutes as these : 
 
 " Who cares for you, old Witch Avery ? " 
 
 " We 11 come in for all you ! " 
 
 " Catch us if you can ! Where ? s your policeman ? " 
 and away they went. 
 
THE DOG TAKES KEFUGE WITH THE OLD WOMAN 265 
 
 Miss Avery went in and shut the door. 
 
 She came back into her room and hung up her broom. 
 She felt on the whole that she had gained a victory, the 
 enemy had lost the dog and she had got him. That was 
 some comfort, and instantly her whole nature rose in deter 
 mination that they never should have him again. 
 
 She looked under her bed, and there, crouching in the 
 far corner, the fire-light gleamed upon a pair of great 
 mournful eyes, and a subdued whine came from the ob 
 scurity. 
 
 Miss Avery never had been fond of dogs, but this dog 
 she had resolved to protect, and all her combativeness was 
 on his side. 
 
 " Come here, doggie ! " she said ; " good doggie ! " So 
 she tried to call him out. 
 
 But the tones were rather dry, and wanting in native 
 cordiality, and doggie only crouched farther in his corner, 
 and gave another piteous whine. 
 
 Miss Zarviah moved the bed, and walking straight into 
 the dark corner, reached down and took him. 
 
 The poor wretch was drabbled with mud, and an old tin 
 kettle, which had been tied to his tail, rattled dubiously as 
 she lifted him. 
 
 " Well, did I ever ! " exclaimed Miss Zarviah, and she 
 brought him out to the fire-light, and setting him down, 
 put on her spectacles, took her scissors and cut the string. 
 
 The pail fell off, and the creature looked up at her with 
 his great sad eyes, and licked her hand humbly. 
 
 " Well, I do declare ! you poor cre tur ! " said Miss Zar 
 viah. 
 
 The dog was quivering and trembling with wet, cold, 
 and fright, but seemed to understand that Miss Zarviah 
 meant well by him ; he tried to wag his bedraggled tail, 
 and then raising himself on his hind legs, he made vigor 
 ous gestures of supplication with his two fore-paws. Evi- 
 
266 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 dently this was an accomplishment which had been taught 
 him in more prosperous days, and which he now brought 
 forth as a means of conciliation. 
 
 It had its effect on Miss Zarviah. 
 
 " Well, I will," she said ; " poor doggie ! I won t let 
 any one catch you again ; but you must be washed .clean." 
 
 And Miss Zarviah brought a small tub which she filled 
 tenderly and carefully, adding warm water from her tea 
 kettle, and testing it with her hand as if for a baby. Then 
 she produced soap and towels, and set to work vigorously. 
 
 She washed and scrubbed till the dog seemed really to 
 half melt away, and be no bigger than a good-sized cat. 
 Then she wiped him dry, wrapped him in an old flannel 
 petticoat, tucked him up in a basket, and set him in the 
 warmest corner to dry, while she proceeded to get her 
 supper. 
 
 Her protege stopped shivering, gave a sound of satisfac 
 tion as he nestled himself in the warm flannel, and followed 
 her with his great bright eyes as she arranged her supper. 
 
 Miss Avery was methodical in all her ways, and this 
 night was the precise night of the week when she always 
 made milk toast, and so milk toast she proceeded to make. 
 
 She shook down a glowing clear bed of coals ; she cut a 
 couple of slices of very nice bread ; she put a skillet of 
 milk down to heat, and proceeded to toast her bread on the 
 end of a long fork. The large bright eyes in the flannel 
 surveyed these proceedings with much apparent interest. 
 
 When the milk was poured into the skillet, there was a 
 stir in the basket, and the occupant struggled to get a good 
 view of her progress. 
 
 " The cre tur really seems to know that there are victuals 
 getting ready," said Miss Zarviah ; "no doubt he s hungry ; " 
 and with this thought she cut another half slice. 
 
 When the dipped toast was made, and the tea drawn, and 
 the little round stand set out before the fire, and Miss Avery 
 
THE DOG TAKES KEFUGE WITH THE OLD WOMAN 267 
 
 sat down to enjoy her tea, there was another commotion in 
 the flannel. 
 
 Miss Avery looked ; the dog was standing up in his basket, 
 gazing very intelligently at the tea-table. 
 
 " Lie down, doggie," she said, " you shall have your 
 supper by and by." 
 
 But doggie did not lie down, but got out of his basket, 
 and gave himself a shake and a lick here and there, and 
 having repaired to the best of his ability the defects in his 
 toilet, he came and sat down by Miss Zarviah, and rising on 
 his hind legs, made as before supplicating gestures with his 
 fore-paws. 
 
 The mouthful of dipped toast that was going to Miss 
 Zarviah s mouth was arrested, and she held it to him. 
 
 He took it off her fork and swallowed it with evident 
 appreciation. 
 
 " Well, did I ever ! " said Miss Avery. "No, I never did ; 
 why, the cre tur all but talks ! Well, well," she said, " you 
 shall have your supper right away," and she cut up his half- 
 slice of toast, and put a liberal allowance of milk over it, and 
 set it down before him, and he fell to work at it with grati 
 fying earnestness. 
 
 Miss Avery certainly enjoyed seeing the way that half-slice 
 of toast was disposed of more than she did the corresponding 
 morsel which she was eating herself. 
 
 " What, more ? " she said, cheerfully, as, after the half- 
 slice had disappeared, the great, bright, silent eyes looked 
 up at her ; and immediately the saucer was replenished with 
 another portion nicely cut-up, which speedily went the way 
 of the former ; and thus sociably she and her protege finished 
 the supper. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SHE DISCOVERS THAT HE IS A PROVIDENCE 
 
 " WELL, of all things ! Who would have thought it ? " 
 mused Miss Avery, as, supper being over, she leaned back 
 in her chair and took a dispassionate survey of her new 
 acquisition. 
 
 He was now quite dry, and his soft flossy hair of a fine 
 silver color would, if Miss Avery had known anything of 
 such matters, have proclaimed him a dog of blood and breed 
 ing ; one of those sagacious little Scotch terriers that are 
 pets in high places. 
 
 But Miss Avery only knew that he was a dog who, by a 
 strange " Providence/ 7 as she called it, had become her dog, 
 and now she was meditating what to call him. 
 
 Her mind reverted to the days long since, when Eben 
 brought home the puppy that made such trouble, and called 
 him Trip. 
 
 " Poor Eben ! " she said, " I reely was hard on him. I 
 wish now I had been more patient with Trip just for his 
 sake. Well, well, we do things that we can t take back, 
 if we want to ever so much, 7 and Miss Avery gave a sigh 
 to those old days, and concluded to call her adopted pet 
 Trip. 
 
 She tried the name on him, and he looked bright and wise, 
 and started at it to go after her as she moved about the room, 
 setting up dishes and sweeping the hearth. 
 
 If ever a dog could express eager, quivering, joyful devo 
 tion, it was Trip ; and his assent to being called by this name 
 
SHE DISCOVERS THAT HE IS A PROVIDENCE 269 
 
 was so unequivocal that Miss Avery flattered herself she 
 had hit upon the very cognomen he had always gone by. 
 
 Miss Avery swept up the hearth, mended her fire, and took 
 out her knitting-work. Trip, who had no knitting-work of 
 his own, looked ardent interest in and approbation of all her 
 movements. 
 
 It was a new sensation to Miss Zarviah to be looked upon 
 with such admiration and devotion as were evident in Trip s 
 great soft eyes. He seemed so every way companionable 
 that she could not help talking to him. 
 
 " Did the wicked boys plague you ? " she said, in a sym 
 pathizing tone. " Well, they sha n t any more ; I 11 take 
 care of you." 
 
 The effect of these words was most unexpected. Trip 
 jumped up and rested his paws against Miss Avery s knees 
 a moment, and then, as if taking a sudden resolution, he 
 sprang into her lap boldly, and began kissing her face with 
 eager dog-caresses. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! Why, Trip-pee ! Why ! why ! Good dog ! 
 Don t ! don t ! " said Miss Avery, as much flustered as if it 
 was a suitor that was declaring his regard for her. " There, 
 there ! get down, Trip." 
 
 But Trip had no idea of getting down ; he only quirled 
 himself round, and established himself composedly in the 
 hollow of her lap. 
 
 " Did I ever ! " said Miss Avery ; " he s determined to 
 sit in my lap ; well, if you will, you will," and Trip nestled 
 down, closed his eyes, and seemed inclined to take a nap in 
 this comfortable situation. 
 
 Outside the wind whistled drearily ; the rain dripped 
 from the eaves with a dull, lonely thud ; but inside the fire 
 purred and snapped and crackled, and the knitting-needle 
 clicked, and Miss Avery said to herself, 
 
 " Well, how much company a cre tur is ! " and she 
 looked down at Trip with patronizing complacency. 
 
270 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 Miss Avery had not had so pleasant an evening within 
 her recollection. 
 
 It seemed wonderful to her that she, who had always de 
 spised dogs and opposed their way, should be sitting now 
 with one in her lap, and enjoying his being there. Cer 
 tainly, there must be a Providence in it, said Miss Avery. 
 
 When the clock struck nine, Miss Avery knit into her 
 seam-needle, and rolled up her knitting-work, and then, in 
 company with Trip, proceeded to fasten and bolt all the 
 doors, and to take a tour of survey through all the house, 
 and look under every bed and in every closet, lest a robber 
 might have slipped in and hidden himself. 
 
 Trip entered into this survey in high spirits, scampering 
 before her, racing into corners, smelling complacently at 
 rat-holes, and giving here and there a lively bark, for Trip 
 had rat-catching blood in his veins, and felt his foot upon 
 his native heath in an old rat-haunted house. 
 
 He ran under beds with cheerful alacrity, and saved Miss 
 Avery 7 s creaking joints the trouble. 
 
 When they entered the pantry there was a sudden scuffle 
 and squeak, and Trip stood growling and glorious, his soft 
 eyes blazing, shaking a rat in his teeth. 
 
 It was all over with Mr. Rat in a minute ; but Trip 
 barked and leaped and shook the victim over, and thrice he 
 slew the slain. 
 
 " Well, I declare, you are a good dog ; there J s that rat 
 that has been plaguing me night after night ! " and Miss 
 Avery glorified and fondled Trip to his heart s content, and 
 was more than ever convinced that he was " a Providence. 7 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 HE MAKES HIMSELF AGREEABLE 
 
 WHEN they were a little settled down from this excite 
 ment, Miss A very raked up the fire, and proceeded to array 
 herself for the night, putting on a portentous night-cap that 
 so altered her appearance that Trip at first ran away and 
 barked, and was only to be reconciled when she stroked and 
 talked to him. 
 
 Then she arranged his basket in the warm corner, put 
 him in it, and told him to lie down and be a good doggie, 
 and, having extinguished her candle, turned in to her bed. 
 
 She felt a sweet serenity and composure in having her 
 protege so nicely disposed of, and shut her eyes, and was 
 dropping off to sleep, when a tick of paws on the floor 
 aroused her. 
 
 Trip had got out of his basket, and was standing by her 
 bedside looking up wistfully. 
 
 " Why, Trip, Trippy ! what s the matter ? Go lie down, 
 Trip!" 
 
 A whine, and a begging gesture of the fore-paws. 
 
 "Trippy, go lie down; there s a good dog." 
 
 Instead of this, Trip gave a spring, and jumped upon the 
 foot of the bed, with evident indications that he wanted to 
 sleep there. 
 
 She was astonished at his presumption, and rising, she 
 took him firmly in her arms, and, carrying him back to his 
 basket, said, as she laid him down, 
 
 " There, Trip, that is a nice warm bed in a warm corner, 
 
272 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 and you must lie down and be still." And she patted him 
 down, and drew the flannel over him. 
 
 Trip made no more remarks for that time, but lay quite 
 still in his basket ; and Miss Avery, complacently reflect 
 ing how easy it was to train dogs in the way they should 
 go, resigned herself to her slumbers. 
 
 Soon as a fine high piping through the nose announced 
 that Miss Avery was sound asleep, Master Trip ticked 
 quietly across the floor, jumped upon the bed, and settled 
 himself in a comfortable little ball at her feet. 
 
 The next morning early, Miss Avery, feeling a remarka 
 ble warmth in the region of her feet, looked down and saw 
 the foot- warmer that had established himself there. 
 
 The moment she moved, Trip frisked to the top of the 
 bed, and kissed her face, and seemed so delighted and 
 overjoyed to see her awake that she had not the heart to 
 scold him. 
 
 " The cre tur s ben used to sleeping on somebody s bed," 
 she said, " and he was lonesome, poor fellow ! Well, 
 Trippy, you ve kept my feet beautiful and warm, any 
 how." 
 
 Miss Avery now began to reflect on the responsibilities 
 she had assumed. Trip was certainly a lively, entertaining 
 companion, and he had warmed quite a place in her half- 
 frozen heart; but he was evidently a thoughtless, frisky, 
 heedless fellow, that would be sure to fall into the enemy s 
 hands again if she did n t look after him. 
 
 So, the first thing after breakfast, she did what she had 
 so long vainly threatened to do, went to the policeman who 
 had charge of her beat, a good-natured man, who went 
 to the same church with her, and detailed to him with 
 some warmth her persecutions from the boys of the neigh 
 boring alley ; whereupon he took down their names, and 
 assured Miss Avery that he would look after them ; and 
 then she went to a carpenter near by, and, as a consequence 
 
HE MAKES HIMSELF AGKEEABLE 273 
 
 of this interview, her backyard before night was adorned 
 along the top with a row of sharp, lively spikes, set points 
 uppermost, so as to render it entirely ineligible as a mode 
 of entrance or egress. So she began to feel herself forti 
 fied and defended in the possession of her new treasure. 
 
 After a week of seclusion, to make sure that Trip would 
 not run away, Miss Avery took him with her whenever she 
 went to market to look out her daily meals, to the stores, 
 and along the constitutional walks which she maintained 
 for the benefit of her health. 
 
 But Sundays and prayer-meeting evenings were seasons 
 of heavy affliction to him. Trip wanted to go to church 
 like a good Christian. 
 
 Twice he scandalized Miss Avery by jumping out of a 
 window, and surreptitiously following her to church, ap 
 pearing before her pew door with a joyous and confident 
 air, as much as to say, " Why, you forgot to take me ! " 
 and Miss Avery, to her great mortification, was obliged to 
 take him out, with boys and children looking on and titter 
 ing in a distressing manner. 
 
 Once, too, he got into prayer-meeting, nestling so dis 
 creetly and quietly under her skirts that she never saw him 
 till the services were over. Then he was wild with delight 
 at his success, and barked in a most disreputable manner 
 all the way home. 
 
 Trip was always scurrying off after cats, or hens, or other 
 dogs, in their daily promenades, to her poignant anxiety 
 and affliction. 
 
 At last, while whirling across a crossing to speak to an 
 other dog who was running with a carriage, he got tumbled 
 under the wheel, and broke one of his fore-paws, and came 
 back to Miss Avery crying and limping on three legs. 
 
 If Miss Avery could have been told a year before of the 
 patience, the loving kindness, with which she was to nurse 
 a dog through indiscretions like these, she would almost 
 
274 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 have said, with the Scriptural character, " Is thy servant a 
 dog to do this ? " 
 
 But the fact was, that Trip seemed only to win the more 
 on her heart for having broken his paw. 
 
 Miss Avery bandaged it and wet it with camphor, held 
 him in her lap, let him sleep on her bed ; and two or three 
 times in the night, when he cried, got up to wet his bandage, 
 and to console and comfort him. 
 
 Poor Miss Avery ! No more alone in the world, for 
 there was this little silver-colored thing with dark eyes that 
 adored her, worshiped her, depended on her, and that she 
 thought and cared for and loved in return. 
 
 So wore the winter away ; but in the spring, when the 
 new leaves came out on the trees, a new leaf was turned 
 in Miss Avery s history. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BLUE EYES COMES TO SEE HIM 
 
 " PLEASE, ma am, may I come in and see your dog ? " 
 
 These words were spoken on a bright June day, when 
 the lilacs were abloom in front of the old house. Miss 
 Avery stood out on the stone nagging at the back side of 
 her house doing some washing, and Trip was present help 
 ing her. 
 
 The words were piped up in a clear little voice that 
 seemed to come from fairy land. Miss Avery was at first 
 dazed and astonished, and turned round to look for the 
 speaker. 
 
 A pair of great blue eyes were looking up at her out of 
 a cloud of curly hair. A little cambric sunbonnet hung 
 loosely back on the shoulders of a small maiden who seemed 
 to have risen out of the flagstones. 
 
 " Eh ! What ? What do you say ? " said Miss Avery. 
 
 " I said, Please let me see your Carlo, ma am/ " said 
 the little girl, making movements towards Trip. 
 
 " His name is n t Carlo ; it s Trip," said Miss Avery, 
 shortly. 
 
 " Oh, is it ? I thought it was Carlo. May n t I play 
 with him, please, ma am ? " 
 
 Trip, meanwhile, had run to the little girl, and was in 
 vestigating her character, applying his nose seriously to her 
 shoes and dress, and, apparently satisfied, jumped up and 
 fawned upon her. 
 
 " He s just like a dog I had once that we called Carlo/ 
 
276 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 said the little voice. " That s the reason I wanted to see 
 him." 
 
 "But he is my dog, child," said Miss Avery, with a 
 withering frown, " and I don t want anybody to come 
 toling him away." 
 
 " Oh," said Blue Eyes, in the most conciliatory tones, 
 "I know he s your dog. I did n t mean to say that he 
 was my Carlo, only that he was like my Carlo, and that 
 was why I wanted to play with him. I love dogs. I 
 won t tole him away, and I won t make any trouble, not a 
 bit. I just want to stroke him and play with him a little, 
 he s such a dear little doggie ; and see, he loves me," and 
 Trip, springing up, kissed the little face with tumultuous 
 caresses. 
 
 "Well, well, child, there s no harm in your stroking 
 him as I know of, but you must n t try to get him away," 
 said Miss Avery, but half pleased with the intimacy that 
 she saw was beginning. 
 
 " Oh, I shan t, indeed I shan t ; you can see. I 11 just 
 play with him here a few minutes, it s our recess now, 
 and I can t stay long, and I 11 be very careful not to 
 trouble you. He looks so much like my Carlo that I lost. 
 He run away last fall, and we never could find him." 
 
 Now Miss Avery felt a severe twinge of conscience. She 
 was, in fact, the most ultra-conscientious person in all that 
 respected the right of property. 
 
 She could n t help the uncomfortable reflection, " What 
 if this were in fact somebody else s dog ? " 
 
 It was a question she did not wish to have opened for 
 discussion. 
 
 She did not mean to believe any thing of that kind, and 
 was determined to make good her right in him. 
 
 But she compromised with her conscience in thinking 
 she would let the little girl come and enjoy his society 
 under her own auspices. 
 
BLUE EYES COMES TO SEE HIM 277 
 
 So when the child said, 
 
 "I guess it s time to go back to school now, but if 
 you 11 let me, I 11 come next recess," Miss Avery re 
 sponded graciously, 
 
 " If you 11 be a good little girl and not make any 
 trouble, you may come and play with the dog whenever 
 you like." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, ma am. I 11 try to be as good j I 11 
 be very quiet, and do just as you tell me," and the little 
 puss gave a parting kiss and hug to Trip, and then made a 
 courtesy to Miss Avery, and ran off to her school. 
 
 "It is n t it can t it shan t be her dog," said Miss 
 Avery to herself. " I saved his life ; he d have been dead 
 before now if it had n t been for me. Who has the best 
 right, a little careless chit like that, that never ought to be 
 trusted with a cre tur, or one that knows how to take care 
 of em ! Besides, Trip loves me : he wants to stay with 
 me, and cre turs have some rights ; they know who they 
 want to stay with, and they ought to stay where they are 
 taken care of. Trip is happy here, and he ought to stay 
 here." 
 
 Thus Miss Avery reasoned while stirring about her 
 housework, sweeping, dusting, and scouring on the imma 
 culate keeping-room. 
 
 " You love me, don t you, Trip ? " she often asked, 
 stopping for a moment in her work, and Trip frisked and 
 jumped and licked her face and hands, and in every possi 
 ble inflection of dog dialect professed his undying fealty 
 and devotion. 
 
 " What nonsense ! What a fool I am to worry," she 
 said ; " jest for that little chit who don t know one dog 
 from another. Suppose she did have a dog run away. 
 Does that prove that this is the dog ? Of course not. The 
 city is full of dogs ; one dog looks just like another. Be 
 sides, her dog was named Carlo, and this one was named 
 
278 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 Trip. I knew his name was Trip j he knew his name the 
 first time I called it. Don t tell me ! " and Miss Avery 
 shook her head threateningly at an imaginary opponent, 
 and as she had an old red handkerchief tied over it with 
 flapping ends, her head-shaking appeared really formidable 
 and convincing. Trip barked at her once or twice, she 
 looked so very belligerent. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO HATES DOGS 
 
 ISTow little Blue Eyes had the fullest conviction in her 
 wise young heart that this was her own dog her lost Carlo. 
 Her father had bought for her in New York a little silky 
 silver-colored Scotch terrier, and given fifty dollars for him, 
 on purpose that Blue Eyes might have him for a playmate 
 and confidential friend while her mother and he were gone. 
 
 But, unfortunately, Mrs. Symons, in whose house and 
 under whose care the little one was placed, was one of those 
 good women who hate dogs of every degree. She never 
 would have one in the house if she could help it, and Carlo 
 was sedulously kept outside of the house at all times, except 
 when his little mistress was at home. If he happened to 
 stray into the parlor or dining-room, the good lady seemed 
 to feel that the place had been polluted, his hair, she 
 declared, would come off on the sofa or chairs, or he would 
 be sure to do some mysterious mischief, and so he was 
 broomed out ignominiously as soon as Bright Eyes back 
 was turned. 
 
 Carlo naturally did n t like this state of things. He be 
 came despondent and timorous, and would make frequent 
 excursions into the street in the forlorn hope of looking for 
 his young mistress. In one of these excursions he fell into 
 the hands of the rabble of boys that infested Miss Avery s 
 back lane, and for six months had been lost to the sight, 
 though dear to the memory, of poor little Blue Eyes. 
 
 So, the first day she had seen him at Miss Avery s, she 
 
280 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 went home and announced that she had found Carlo. The 
 news was received with very active opposition on the part 
 of Mrs. Symons. 
 
 " Why, no, child ! you can t have found Carlo ! How do 
 you know ? There are dozens of dogs of that sort. Carlo 
 has been gone these six months, and for my part I am glad 
 of it ; he was nothing but a plague." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, Miss Avery says I may come and see 
 him, and play with him at her house," said Blue Eyes, " and 
 that s better than having him here, because Miss Avery 
 likes him, and is kind to him." 
 
 " What ! that old cross Miss Avery ? " 
 
 " She is n t cross ; she s just as good as she can be to 
 Carlo. She calls him Trip, she thinks everything of him, 
 and she says I may come to see him as often as I ve a mind 
 to ; and I shall go and see him every day, and all Saturday 
 afternoon," said the little one, resolutely, as she went up 
 stairs. 
 
 " Wife," said Mr. Symons, who had been listening to this 
 talk from the next room, " did she say it was Miss Avery 
 she was visiting ? " 
 
 " Yes ; " said his helpmeet. 
 
 " Well, let her go there. But what is the attraction ? 
 Not Miss Avery s personal charms, I m sure." 
 
 " No ; it s a little dog that the child thinks is like hers 
 that ran away. For my part, I think like enough it is hers. 
 But I d rather Miss Avery would keep it than have it back 
 in the house here. I hate dogs, and I was glad when it ran 
 away. But just to think that the child should go right to 
 the house of her own aunt ! " 
 
 Now Mr. Symons was the friendly lawyer to whom Eben 
 Avery had committed the management of his property. The 
 little girl had been left with him this summer, while the 
 parents were away attending to some necessary business. 
 In the fall they were to come back, and then there was to 
 be an attempt at a final settlement of the Avery estate. 
 
THE WOMAN WHO HATES DOGS 281 
 
 Eben Avery had become a stout, cheery, well-to-do man 
 of forty, had come hack from California, and was desirous 
 now to return to Hindford and build a house on the old 
 place. 
 
 Miss Avery s life-right in the ancient ruinous dwelling 
 was all that stood in the way of the plan, and Mr. Symons 
 had long been searching for acceptable words wherewith to 
 break to her the news of her brother s return, and of his 
 plans. 
 
 He had mentally surveyed her as a fortress to be carried, 
 and had not known where to effect an entrance. When, 
 therefore, he heard what the little one had done, he put 
 his hands in his pockets, and gave a contented whistle. 
 
 " Well," he said, " the old woman s such a crotchety, 
 crabbed old thing, I did n t know how to go to work with 
 her ; and there was no saying whether she d take to Eben, 
 or whether she d rake up the old grudge. There ? s never 
 knowing what folks will do in their family quarrels. But 
 there s a soft streak in the old lady, it appears. Better let 
 Patty Coram work on her. She 11 bring her round, if any 
 body can. Of course, she don t know whose child it is ? " 
 
 " Oh no ; I don t think she does." 
 
 " Well, tell Patty Coram not to tell her. There s never 
 any saying with these crotchety people. It might spoil all 
 the fun if she knew whose daughter she was. She 7 d get 
 going over the old story of the quarrel between her and 
 Eben, and maybe it would set her against the girl." 
 
 So Mrs. Symons warned the little one, with many a head- 
 shake, that old Miss Avery was very queer indeed, and she 
 better not tell her name to her it might make the old 
 lady cross, and she would n t let her come ; but that if she 
 were careful she might go and see Carlo as often as she 
 liked. And Mrs. Symons congratulated herself that the 
 dreadful dog was thus taken care of in a way to both sat 
 isfy his young mistress and keep him out of her own way. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 BLUE EYES PURSUES HER ADVANTAGE 
 
 THE next day the little girl came again, and this time the 
 interview was accorded in the house. 
 
 It was bright June weather, and the " keeping-room " 
 windows were open, and the smell of lilacs came pleasantly 
 in, and Miss Avery sat with her sewing. " Oh, how pleas 
 ant it is here," said Blue Eyes. " I m so glad you let me 
 come. I do love Trip so, and Trip is glad to see me, ain t 
 you, Trip ? " 
 
 Trip responded to this with his usual effusion, expend 
 ing so many caresses on the little face that Miss Avery be 
 gan to feel a twinge of jealousy. 
 
 " What is your name, little girl ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, I ve got lots of names. Papa calls me Pussy and 
 Daisy ; and Mr. Symons calls me Patty Coram, and Aunty 
 Symons calls me Pet, and I don t know which is my 
 name." 
 
 " Do you live with Mr. Symons ? " 
 
 "Yes, I m staying with them now till my papa and 
 mamma come ; they re gone a journey now, and Aunt Sy 
 mons takes care of me while they re gone, and I go to 
 school to the school-house on this street, that s where I 
 go to school, and it s so near I can come in at recess ; 
 but it s time to go now," said the little maid, running for 
 her bonnet. " Please, Miss Avery, may I come here to 
 morrow afternoon ? To-morrow is Saturday, and I can 
 stay a good long while." 
 
BLUE EYES PUESUES HER ADVANTAGE 283 
 
 Miss Avery looked intently into the great, wide, earnest 
 blue eyes that were looking up from her knee, it was as if 
 a blue violet were talking to her, and the little rosy mouth 
 quivered with earnestness. 
 
 She said, " Yes, my dear," in a voice softer than she was 
 in the habit of using. The little one, with an impulsive 
 movement, threw her arms round her neck and kissed her. 
 
 " Oh," said Miss Avery, half-pleased, half-shocked, " you 
 should n t kiss such an old thing as I am." 
 
 " Yes I should, because you are good to me," said Blue 
 Eyes, as she kissed her again, and then tripped lightly 
 away. 
 
 Miss Avery sat in a sort of maze. Those kisses had 
 roused a commotion in her dry old heart. 
 
 " What a dear little thing it is ! " she said. " Strange 
 she should want to kiss me, my poor old withered face ! 
 Well, if she s coming to-morrow " 
 
 Miss Avery here rose and went to her pantry. As if in 
 spired by a new thought, she changed her dress immedi 
 ately, and put on one devoted to cooking, and went to work 
 with flour and sugar and spices to compound some cakes 
 such as she remembered Eben used to love. She sifted, she 
 grated, she pounded, she beat eggs, to Trip s great amaze 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, Trippy," she said, " you and I are going to have 
 company to-morrow, and we must get ready, Trippy, must 
 n t we ? " 
 
 Trip responded vigorously to the suggestion, and flew 
 about in a very active manner to express his pleasure in the 
 proceedings. 
 
 Miss Avery cleared her fire, and put down her tin baker, 
 and soon the cakes rose clear and light, and browned to her 
 heart s content. 
 
 " I 11 frost them," she said, meditatively. " Children 
 always like frosting. Oh, if I had only some caraway sugar- 
 
284 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 plums to put on top ! Oh, you Trip, if you were good for 
 anything, I could send you over to get some caraways." 
 
 But as Trip, with all his activity, could not compass this 
 errand, Miss Avery changed her dress again, and went 
 across to a confectioner s, and bought an ounce of caraway 
 sugar-plums of divers colors most brilliant to behold, where 
 with, on her return, she adorned the frosting of her little 
 cakes. 
 
 Then Miss Avery remembered an upper drawer in which 
 there was a china image of a little white lamb standing in a 
 very green china hedge of very pink and blue flowers, and 
 this lamb she now drew out of his hiding-place. 
 
 It was given to her when she was a little girl, and as she 
 looked at it, her thoughts traveled back to the days when 
 she was no higher than this little one, and when Saturday 
 afternoon was a paradise of untold brightness for her. 
 
 She set it on the mantel-piece between the candlesticks, 
 and in front of the snuffer-tray. 
 
 Then she proceeded to cover a ball of old ravelings with 
 some bright flannels, and fasten a long cord to it, for the 
 little girl and Trip to play with together ; and just to try 
 its effects, she threw it time and again, and laughed to see 
 Trip scamper after it. 
 
 " Why, what a fool I am ! " she said, when she had con 
 sumed about half an hour playing with Trip. 
 
 Miss Avery was beginning to feel young again. 
 
CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 A BRIGHT SATURDAY AFTERNOON 
 
 THE keeping-room wore quite a festive air. Some pur 
 ple and white lilacs in an old china vase adorned the table, 
 and Miss Avery, conscious of stores of attractions in her 
 cupboard, had been waiting impatiently for her little visi 
 tor, when she heard a knock at the front door, and it was 
 a race between her and Trip which should get to it first. 
 
 Trip s joyful barks filled the house, while Miss Avery 
 pulled and jerked the old front door, which, being rheu 
 matic and unused to opening, hung obstinately back, and at 
 last flew open with a bounce that was like to upset them both. 
 
 "There, now!" said the little one. "It s Saturday 
 afternoon, and I can stay till sundown ; ain t you glad ? " 
 she asked, looking up at Miss Avery with great, clear, wide 
 blue eyes. 
 
 " To be sure I am," said Miss Avery, heartily, as she 
 hung up the little bonnet ; and then, taking down the china 
 lamb from the mantel, she said, " See there ! that s what 
 I used to play with when I was a little girl ; you shall 
 play with it when you come to see me." 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful ! May I take it ? " said the child. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Avery ; and stooping shyly towards 
 her, as she handed the toy, she said, 
 
 " Have n t you got another kiss for me ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes," said the little one, throwing her arms 
 round her neck. " I ; ve got twenty kisses for you ; for I 
 really love you, cause you are so good." 
 
286 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 " No, no, 1 m not good," said Miss Avery, with a half- 
 sigh ; " Pm a poor, homely, cross old woman." 
 
 " No, you re not ; you re not cross a bit. Nobody shall 
 say you are cross, shall they, Trippy ? Trip knows how 
 good you are, don t he, Trippy ? " And Trip barked an 
 energetic testimony of Miss Avery s goodness. 
 
 Miss Avery felt the sweet flattery of a child s love with 
 a new and strange delight, and all the lines of her face 
 softened and lighted up, so that she looked almost hand 
 some. 
 
 The small visitor now chattered on like a little brook 
 over stones, running here and there, and asking questions 
 about everything she saw. 
 
 " What funny chamber stairs ! " she said, as she peeped 
 into the entry ; " they look just like pieces of pie. Can 
 Trippy and I go and see what is up there ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I 11 show you," said Miss Avery and she 
 took the little girl and Trip the round of the chambers 
 above. 
 
 One of them was kept with a special nicety. The win 
 dow curtains were spotless and white, the bed was neatly 
 made ; there was a writing-table with books and papers on it. 
 
 " This was my brother s room," said Miss Avery. 
 
 " Where is he ? " said the little one, innocently. 
 
 " I don t know," said Miss Avery, and her countenance 
 fell. 
 
 The little one picked up a book on the table, and opened 
 it, and read on the fly-leaf, 
 
 "EBEN AVERY." 
 
 " Why, that s my papa s name ! " she said ; " his 
 name s Eben Avery." 
 
 Miss Avery turned pale and sat down in a chair, putting 
 her hand to her head. The room seemed to go round for 
 a moment ; but in a moment more she commanded herself, 
 and said, 
 
A BRIGHT SATURDAY AFTERNOON 287 
 
 " Your papa s name Eben Avery ? Where is he ? " 
 
 "He s traveling now. I don t know where he and 
 mamma are, but he ? s coming here by and by. We used to 
 live way, way, way off, out in California ; but papa is coming 
 to live here in Hindford." 
 
 " Oh, you dear child! you dear child ! " said Miss Avery, 
 catching her in her arms with a sort of dry sob. " Why, 
 I m your own aunty ! Your father was my brother Eben. 
 This used to be his room when he was a boy. Thank the 
 Lord I see you ! " she said. 
 
 " Well, there now ! I knew you must be my aunty," 
 said the little one cheerily, " you are so good to me ; you 
 are my ownty downty aunty, and I shall love you always ; " 
 and this was confirmed by a shower of kisses. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Miss Avery. " I wasn t good to your 
 poor father ; I was cross to him. I did n t mean to be 
 cross, but I was ; but I 11 never be cross to you, my dar 
 ling. I 11 make it all up to you." 
 
 " I don t believe you ever was cross to papa or anybody 
 else," said the child sturdily. 
 
 " Yes, I was ; but I ve been very sorry ever since, and 
 I hope he won t lay it up against me," said Miss Avery, 
 humbly. 
 
 " Oh, indeed, papa will love you, I know ! Papa is 
 always good to everybody ; and as full of fun ! he s always 
 making people laugh and have good times." 
 
 " He never told you what a cross old sister I was ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, he did n t ! he said how you used to sit up 
 with him and nurse him when he was sick." 
 
 "Did he remember that? Well, I did love Eben, 
 though I did n t always act like it." 
 
 " I m ever so glad," remarked Blue Eyes, " that you 
 are my aunty, cause now you 11 come and live with us. 
 You and I and Trip, we 11 live together ; won t it be 
 fun ? " 
 
288 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 Miss Avery laughed, she had n t felt so gleeful for 
 years, and then, when she had opened all her drawers 
 and all her cupboards, and showed everything she had in 
 the house, and answered questions without end, the happy 
 party came down again and produced Trip s ball, and soon 
 she and little Blue Eyes and Trip were engaged in a real 
 romp, and the old house rang with peals of laughter and 
 barks, and there was such scampering and pattering and 
 skurrying about as had n t been known for } r ears. Miss 
 Avery got her hair loosened and her cheeks red, and laughed 
 till she had to sit down and hold her sides. 
 
 When tired of this fun, Miss Avery recovered her dignity, 
 and set herself seriously to getting tea, in which business 
 Blue Eyes and Trip assisted according to their ability. 
 
 The little round table was set in the keeping-room, and 
 some nice biscuits were baked in the baker before the fire, 
 and tea was made, and finally, as a crowning glory, the plate 
 of frosted cakes, gay with many-colored sugar-plums, was 
 put on the table. 
 
 Miss Avery was not disappointed in the sensation they 
 produced. The little one clapped her hands, and laughed 
 and admired, and Trip barked, and altogether they had a 
 merry time of it. 
 
 They sat down at table, with Trip between them deco 
 rously mounted on his cushion, and Miss Avery said grace, 
 and Trip looked as sober and devout as if he had two legs 
 instead of four, a feat which Blue Eyes warmly commended. 
 
 " Trip knows just how to behave at table, don t he ? " she 
 said; "that s because you ve taught him, aunty." 
 
 " Yes, Trip is a good dog," said Miss Avery ; " you see he 
 waits till I fix his supper for him." 
 
 It was a joyous tea-party, and full justice was done to the 
 cakes, and Miss Avery went back into long histories of the 
 old days when Eben was a boy, and the house stood on a 
 farm far out from the city, and they used to have hens and 
 
A BRIGHT SATURDAY AFTERNOON 289 
 
 chickens, and pigs and ducks, and all sorts of nice things. 
 Miss Avery seemed to grow young again as she told the 
 story. 
 
 " Now, dear, what is your name ? " she said ; " you never 
 really told me your name." 
 
 " Well, my real name is Margaret ; but they call me lots of 
 other things, Daisy, and Dot, and Puss, and Mr. Symons 
 calls me Patty Coram and Chatterbox ; he ? s a funny man, 
 Mr. Symons is." 
 
 " Margaret I knew it it 7 s mother s name," said Miss 
 Avery. " Dear, your grandmother was a good woman you 
 are named after her I hope you 11 be like her." 
 
 When the sun sank low, the child started for home with 
 two cakes, that she could not eat, stuffed in her small pocket. 
 
 There were kisses exchanged, and promises to come again. 
 As she trotted gayly off, Miss Avery gazed after her till the 
 last of her little pink dress faded in the distance. 
 
 " Thank the Lord ! thank the Lord ! " she said. " He 
 has been good to me." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A JOYFUL SUNDAY 
 
 Miss AVERY woke next morning with a vague sense of 
 some sudden good fortune, and gradually the events of the 
 day before came over her. 
 
 She was no more alone in the world, with nobody to love 
 and nobody loving. She rejoiced in her little niece as one 
 that findeth great spoil. 
 
 She stepped about alertly getting her breakfast ; she went 
 up stairs and set open the windows of Eben s room. The 
 purple and white lilacs looked in inquisitively as to say, 
 
 " What now?" 
 
 " He J ll come here ; Eben will come back now. Well, 
 he 11 see I ve kept his room for him," said Miss Avery, as 
 she smoothed a wrinkle on the bed and necked a little dust 
 from the table. 
 
 The first bells were ringing for church; to her they 
 seemed joy-bells ; and Miss Avery dressed herself to go out 
 with a light heart. Trip ran to her quivering with eager 
 ness. Miss Avery s heart was touched for him. 
 
 " Trippy, you poor doggie ! 1 m sorry, but I can t take 
 you to church," she said, as he stood wagging his tail, and 
 looking eagerly at her. "It s Sunday, Trippy, and you 
 can t go to church with me, though you are a great deal 
 more up to your light than some who do go." 
 
 Miss Avery explained this over to Trippy, but it did n t 
 seem to convince him ; and when she left the house, he stood 
 on his hind legs at the window barking frantically. 
 
A JOYFUL SUNDAY 291 
 
 Miss Avery s mind in sermon-time wandered to her little 
 niece. She saw her blue eyes, and felt her caresses and 
 kisses, and her heart was glad within her ; and she caught 
 herself in sermon- time projecting how she would make some 
 " crullers," and sift sugar over them for the child s delecta 
 tion when she came to see her old aunty. 
 
 " I m afraid I shall make an idol of that child," she said 
 to herself when she found where her thoughts had been 
 wandering. 
 
 When she got home Trippy was outrageous in his joy. 
 
 " It s worth going out for, to have any cre tur so glad to 
 see one," she said. " Ah, Trippy ! you was a Providence. 
 If it had not been for you, Trippy, she would n t a ben 
 here, Trippy ! Trippy ! you ve ben a real blessing to me. 
 "Now to-morrow she 11 come again, the dear little thing ! " 
 
 The next day Miss Avery looked eagerly at the old clock, 
 and counted the minutes to recess- time, but no little Blue 
 Eyes came. She wondered and waited in vain. 
 
 The solemn old clock ticked and struck, and Miss Avery 
 strained her ears for the sound of the little footsteps. 
 Never had the house seemed so lonely ; but no little foot 
 steps came. 
 
 " Why, I could n t have believed I d V missed her so," 
 said Miss Avery to Trip, and Trip looked as if he thought 
 so, too. "Well, she ll be here to-morrow, anyway," she 
 said, as she lay down to sleep at night. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 WHERE IS BLUE EYES ? 
 
 BUT to-morrow came and told the same story, no little 
 girl. Miss Avery lay awake at night wondering and wish 
 ing she knew ; but when the third day passed, and she did 
 not come, Miss Avery put on her bonnet and marched up 
 to Mr. Symons s, and knocked at the front door, and in 
 quired for Mrs. Symons. 
 
 That good lady, a little fat easy woman, appeared, for 
 some cause, agitated and worried. 
 
 Miss Avery was a very square, direct, exact sort of a 
 person, in her dealings, and never wasted words, so she 
 came to the point directly. 
 
 " Good -morning, Mrs. Symons," she said. "I came to 
 inquire for my brother s little girl." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Symons, " then you know ? Well, I 
 declare ! I told Mr. Symons you ought to know ; but 
 dear me ! I don t know what we shall all do. She s taken 
 down with scarlet fever got it at school, I s pose taken 
 Monday morning I expect she sat by some child that had 
 it in school or Sunday-school ; any rate she s got it, and 
 we don t know where to look for a nurse." 
 
 Miss Avery here interposed briefly, 
 
 " / will come and nurse her. It s my place. I will 
 take care of her." 
 
 " Oh, you will ? Well, if you feel able. I ain t used 
 to sickness, you see, and I " 
 
 " I am used to sickness," said Miss Avery, briefly, " and 
 
WHERE IS BLUE EYES ? 293 
 
 if I undertake a thing, I do it. I ll just go home and 
 take my things and lock up the house and be here in an 
 hour. I shall have to hring my little Trip with me. I 
 can t leave him alone in the house ; but he never makes 
 any trouble, and she s fond of him, and loves to have him 
 round." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Symons, " we 11 do the best we can." 
 
 " And I shall do the best I can," said Miss Avery, reso 
 lutely. 
 
 And in a few hours she was established at the bedside 
 of her little patient, with her old-fashioned watch on the 
 stand, and her gargles and medicines all arranged in order, 
 with a soft pair of list shoes upon her feet, the very image 
 of regularity, neatness, and order. 
 
 The little one woke from a heavy sleep, opened her eyes 
 and smiled. 
 
 " You here, aunty ? " she said, and she reached her arms 
 up to her ; and Aunt Avery stooped down and kissed her 
 once and again. 
 
 " I m so glad you ve come ! " said the child. " My 
 throat hurts me so, and I m so hot ! " 
 
 " I came to help you, darling. I 11 take care of you till 
 you are well again." 
 
 The child dozed off in a heavy stupor. After a while, 
 Miss Avery put a spoonful of the rose-leaf gargle in her 
 mouth, and she woke again, and looked earnestly at Miss 
 Avery. 
 
 " I d like to go to heaven sometime" she broke out ; 
 a but I don t want to go now. I want to see papa and 
 mamma again." 
 
 "Yes indeed, darling; I trust you will," said Miss 
 Avery, who felt her heart sink within her at the very sug 
 gestion. 
 
 " Have you brought Trip ? " faintly whispered the child. 
 
 " Oh yes ; here he is," said Miss Avery. And sure 
 
294 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 enough, Trip, standing on his hind legs, was gazing on his 
 little playmate, with his great soft eyes full of sympathy. 
 She smiled faintly, and reached her little hand. He licked 
 it, and she laughed. " It tickles/ 7 she said. " Let him 
 stay where I can see him," she added ; and so Trip had his 
 cushion put in a chair by her bedside, where he conducted 
 himself in a sympathizing and Christian manner, restrain 
 ing his natural impetuosity, and behaving with the utmost 
 quietness. 
 
 Now and then he would step gently and softly on the 
 bed, and steal up and put his cold nose to the little hot 
 face ; and then she woke from her feverish stupor, and 
 said, " Dear Trippy, is that you ? " 
 
 " The cre tur knows something is the matter as well as I 
 do," said Miss Avery. 
 
 Something was the matter, and a very grave something ; 
 for the disease was of a virulent type, and for days and 
 nights it was uncertain how it would go with the child. 
 Miss Avery was every moment at her post. 
 
 She had all her life been combating dust, dirt, disorder, 
 rats, and flies ; but now she was in a more awful combat, 
 fighting hand-to-hand with death ! 
 
 One night the symptoms grew worse. The hands and 
 feet of the little sufferer became cold as ice, and the doctor 
 said that if there was no rallying she could not live till 
 morning. 
 
 Miss Avery was grimly resolute and watchful, and inces 
 sant in her care, but there was a dreadful sinking in her 
 heart. 
 
 " I can t I can t spare her, oh, I can t ! " she said ; 
 and then there came into her head a verse she sung every 
 week at prayer-meeting : 
 
 "The dearest idol I have known, 
 
 Whate er that idol be, 
 Help me to tear it from thy throne, 
 And worship only thee." 
 
WHEKE IS BLUE EYES ? 295 
 
 " Oh, I can t I can t say that ! " she said. She turned 
 in a sort of blind way, and opened a Bible and read, 
 
 " My daughter is even now dead, but come and lay thine, 
 hand on her, and she shall live" 
 
 She fell on her knees, rested her head on the bed, and 
 cried out, 
 
 " O Jesus, help me help me ! I can t give her up ! " 
 It was a paroxysm, a rush of the whole soul ; and a moment 
 after, the words passed through her mind, as if a gentle 
 voice had spoken them, 
 
 "/ will come and heal her." 
 
 She rose again, with a strange new sense of relief and 
 trust. It was as if she had indeed touched the hem of His 
 garment. 
 
 She bent over the child, and felt her hands ; they were 
 warmer ; a little moisture stood on her forehead ; she looked 
 better. The tide of life had passed the lowest ebb, and was 
 beginning to flow back, and by morning there was a decided 
 improvement. " Well, Miss Avery, you 7 ve fought it out 
 bravely," said the doctor, when he felt the child s pulse in 
 the morning. " I think we shall keep her. The crisis is 
 over, and, with good nursing like yours, we shall have her 
 on her feet in a week." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 THE telegram that was to have summoned Eben Avery 
 to the bedside of his little daughter missed him, coming one 
 hour after he had left the place of address. It was not till 
 the danger was over, and recovery fairly established, that 
 he heard of the child s state. Then he and his wife hurried 
 to Hindford. 
 
 Miss Avery was sitting in the well-ordered room, with 
 her little patient in her lap. 
 
 For the first time the child had been dressed that day in 
 her ordinary clothes, and was reposing after the fatigue in 
 those fond, faithful old arms that had borne her through 
 her sickness. 
 
 " Here she is ! " said a voice outside the chamber door, 
 and immediately a stout, cheery, middle-aged man had his 
 arms round both of them, and was kissing both indiscrim 
 inately. 
 
 "Eben! Eben!" "Sister! 77 "Papa! 77 "Mamma! 77 
 were the sounds that rose all together, and then a pretty 
 little woman claimed her share, and kissed both Miss Avery 
 and the child. 
 
 It was a confused, laughing, crying, joyful sort of meet 
 ing, and Trip barked distractedly, not knowing what to 
 make of it. 
 
 "There, now, let s sit down and be quiet, 77 said Eben 
 Avery. "We nmstn 7 t make such a racket among us. 
 Come, Sister Zarviah, let me take her a minute." And 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 297 
 
 Miss Avery put the little one into his arms, and her face 
 for the moment was radiant with its expression of tender 
 feeling. 
 
 " There, Eben," she said, " I ve kept her for you ; now 
 you 11 forgive my being cross to you." 
 
 " Forgive you, my dear old soul ! Why, that s a pretty 
 story ! What have I to forgive ? Were n t you always 
 the most painstaking creature that ever was ? and I was 
 enough to tire the patience of Job himself. My wife, 
 there, will tell you what a fiery trial I am." 
 
 " papa, you are not ! " said the little one. 
 
 " Shut up, Pussy ; you must n t talk ! You 11 get a re 
 lapse, or something. We ought not to have come in on 
 you so suddenly ; but there ! it s just like me. I could n t 
 help it. I m the same noisy, careless fellow." 
 
 " Dear sister," said the beautiful lady, her eyes filling 
 with tears, "I don t know what I can ever say to thank 
 you!" 
 
 " Oh, don t say anything," said Miss Avery. " I did 
 it because I wanted to. I loved her. She s the dearest 
 little thing ! and the Lord s given her back. I felt 
 when she was so low that if she died, I should die, 
 too ! " 
 
 " Well, well," said Eben, " you shan t either of you die 
 now ! and we 11 all live together in peace, and plenty, and 
 prosperity." 
 
 The last scene in our story is a Thanksgiving dinner 
 at the old Avery house. 
 
 There were present at table Mr. Eben Avery and his 
 wife, our little Blue Eyes, Miss Avery, and Trip, Trip, 
 with a fine new collar, with a little silver bell upon it. 
 Miss Avery presided, attired in a new black India satin 
 which Eben had brought to her from California, and a 
 thread-lace cap which Eben s wife had trimmed with her 
 own fair hands. 
 
298 A DOG S MISSION 
 
 "Now this seems like old times/ said Eben, looking 
 cheerily round. " Nobody like you, Sister Zarviah, for get 
 ting up a Thanksgiving dinner ! " 
 
 Miss Avery confessed that she had given her mind to 
 this one, and that she was relieved that the turkey had 
 "browned just right." Perfection in one thing, at least, 
 had been reached. 
 
 "And now, Zarviah, since this is the last of the old 
 Avery house, let s have a rousing good time in it, 7 said 
 Eben. " Give Trip all the turkey he wants, and Pussy all 
 the pie, and let me talk nonsense much as I ? ve a mind 
 to." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Avery ; " Trip ought to have his 
 share of our Thanksgiving, for he s been a good Providence 
 to me. I was getting crusty and cross, and frozen up, and 
 didn t care for anybody till Trip got me to caring for 
 him." 
 
 " And then, auntie, I came after Trip, and you got to 
 loving me, did n t you, auntie ? " 
 
 " That I did," said Miss Avery, heartily. 
 
 " I tell you what, wife," said Eben, " I ? m going to 
 build the finest house in Hindford on this very spot, and 
 I m going to build Zarviah s room just to suit her, with all 
 sorts of cupboards and closets and squirrel-holes for her to 
 put all her precious things in, and she shall have a keeping- 
 room with all the old things in it that are here ; and we 11 
 keep the old lilacs to look in at the chamber windows, and 
 Zarviah won t know but what she s living in the old house, 
 only there 11 be no leaks, and no rats, and no cockroaches ; 
 and Zarviah shall have it all her own way in her part of 
 the house." 
 
 " Well, I shall stay in auntie s part; I know I shall like 
 it best. She always lets me do just what I want to." 
 
 "There, Zarviah, you ll just spoil that child," said 
 Eben. 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 299 
 
 " She can t be spoiled/ said Miss A very, sententiously. 
 
 " At any rate/ said the little lady, " Trip and I know 
 we shall have good times with auntie, don t we, Trippy ? " 
 Trip barked his assent ; and so ends the story of a dog s 
 mission. 
 
LULU S PUPIL 
 
 LITTLE Miss Lulu was tired of all her dolls, and she 
 had a good many dolls to be tired of. There was the big 
 china doll with blue eyes and light flaxen hair ; and there 
 was the pink wax doll with a curly golden wig ; and there 
 was the little china doll dressed like a boy, and the black 
 china doll with a red petticoat that waited on the white lady 
 dolls ; and there was the doll that could open and shut its 
 eyes, and the doll that could say " Mamma ; " in fact, there 
 were about a dozen more that I cannot now enumerate, but 
 Lulu had become tired of them all. " I want a real live 
 doll," she said. 
 
 So one day her mamma brought her home a pet. It was a 
 little Spitz puppy named Muff. His hair was long and sil 
 very white, he had bright black eyes, and the prettiest pink 
 tongue in the world, and was about the j oiliest little dog 
 that could be bought for any money. He was called Muff 
 because he looked, when set down upon the carpet, very much 
 like a little white muff running about on four little white 
 stumpy legs ; and the moment he was put down in the par 
 lor he trotted about smelling at everything he could find. 
 He smelt of the curtains, of the chairs, of the ottomans, and 
 ran his nose all along the side of the room, which is a dog s 
 way of taking an observation. 
 
 Lulu was delighted. This was a pet worth having. Her 
 dolls, she thought, were stupid. They never did anything ; 
 they never moved unless she moved them ; the doll that 
 could open and shut its eyes never did open or shut them 
 except just while Lulu pulled the wire, and Lulu got tired 
 
LULU S PUPIL 301 
 
 of pulling the wire. But no sooner was Mr. Muff set down 
 on his four paws in the corner than he began such a whisk 
 and scamper that it made lively times for Lulu. Kound 
 and round he ran, snuffing at this thing and at that, and 
 barking with a short, quick snap, like the letting off of a 
 pistol. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " said Lulu s mamma, " what shall we do 
 if that dog is going to bark so ? It goes through my head 
 like a knife. Lulu, if you are going to have Muff for your 
 dog, you must teach him not to bark." 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed, mamma/ 7 said Lulu, " 1 11 teach him ; " 
 and so she sat down on the ottoman and took Muff in her 
 lap to instruct him how to behave. 
 
 Muff had been racing, so that his little pink tongue hung 
 like a ribbon out of his mouth, and Miss Lulu proceeded to 
 fan him in order to cool him, as she said, 
 
 " Now, Muffie dear, you must remember you are f my dog 
 now, and I must teach you exactly how to behave. You 
 must n t bark out loud in the parlors, Muffie ; do you 
 hear ? " 
 
 Just then the door-bell rang, and down jumped Muffie, 
 and " whack, whack, whack " went his sharp little bark. 
 
 It was Miss Marabout and Miss Tulleport come in all 
 their best flowers and feathers and silk dresses to call on 
 mamma. 
 
 In vain did Lulu try to stop Muff; she could not catch 
 him. He ran " whack, whack, whacking," now here and 
 now there, under Miss Marabout s silk trail and over Miss 
 Tulleport s new satin, and made such a din and confusion 
 that nobody could hear anybody else speak. 
 
 " Jennie, you must take that dog and shut him up in the 
 nursery," said mamma ; and away Muff was carried in deep 
 disgrace, barking like a pocket-pistol all the way. 
 
 " dear me, Muffie, what a bad dog you are ! " said little 
 Miss Lulu, who came trailing up-stairs after him, " to bark 
 
302 LULU S PUPIL 
 
 so just after I talked to you so nicely, and told you just 
 how to behave. 7 
 
 Well, that was not the worst scrape that Muff got his 
 young mistress into. He was, to tell the truth, the most 
 mischievous little wretch that ever wore dog-skin. What do 
 you think of this ? One day it was decided that Lulu was 
 to go with a whole party of children to a picnic in the coun 
 try. Her mamma had just finished for her a smart little 
 cambric dress to wear on the occasion, and when Lulu went 
 to bed it was laid out on a chair that she might put it on in 
 the morning. 
 
 But, alas ! in the morning there was no dress to be seen, 
 and after great searching and wondering it was found under 
 the bed in Mr. Muff s possession. Muff was shaking it 
 about in his mouth, and had torn and mangled it so that it 
 was not fit to be seen. In fact, he had chewed up and swal 
 lowed half the front breadth, so that there was no possibil 
 ity of mending it. 
 
 Lulu wept bitterly over the spoiled dress, and all the 
 more that it was spoiled by her new favorite. It was agreed 
 that Muff should be put into solitary confinement while she 
 went to the picnic. So Muff was locked into a closet, and 
 Lulu went off with her tears dried, and an old dress in place 
 of the new one she had expected to wear. 
 
 Arrived on the picnic ground, who should appear, fresh 
 and noisy, but Master Muff ? He had jumped out of the 
 closet window and followed his mistress, determined to see 
 some of the fun. 
 
 This is only one specimen of the mischief that Muff was 
 always doing. He used to run away with Lulu s shoes and 
 stockings, and chew them to a paste ; he used to tear her rib 
 bons to shreds, and, when nothing else came to hand, would 
 attack the books and newspapers, shaking and worrying them 
 till they were all in tatters. 
 
 Every day Maggie or Susan came down to mamma with 
 
303 
 
 some new story of Muff s naughty doings. He had torn the 
 window-curtains, he had chewed off a corner of a sheet, he 
 had scratched and pawed off the fringe from the ottoman. 
 " What shall we do with the creature ? " said mamma. 
 "I ; m sure I never would have bought him had I known 
 what a trouble he would be." 
 
 " He will have to be sent away if he don t mind/ said 
 papa. 
 
 But the moment papa spoke of sending Muff away, Lulu s 
 great blue eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembled, and 
 she seemed so broken-hearted that papa said, " Well, well, 
 we 11 try him a little longer." 
 
 Then how hard Lulu tried to make Muffie comprehend 
 the situation ! She would take him into her lap and preach 
 to him gravely : " Now you see, Muffie, I love you, and I 
 don t want you sent off ; but if you go on so they will send 
 you way, way off, where you 11 never, never see me any 
 more. Would n t that make you feel bad, Muffie ? " 
 
 Muffie would sit with his head very much on one side, 
 and his tongue like a pink streamer hanging out of his 
 mouth, and listen with a waggish air to all his mistress s 
 instructions, showing just about as much feeling as some 
 little boys and girls do when their mammas tell them of 
 what may happen to them when they grow up if they do 
 not heed their counsel. 
 
 " The fact is," Muff seemed to say, " I have always been 
 a pretty lucky dog, and I don t believe anything very bad 
 will happen to me." 
 
 Muff liked very much to trot about with his little mis 
 tress when she went out for a walk. Then he would cock 
 his ears and tail, and pad along as important as possible. 
 He would run and bark at every cat and dog or hen and 
 chicken in his way, and seemed delighted to keep every 
 thing about him in a flutter. 
 
 People scolded a great deal, and some even threatened to 
 
304 LULU S PUPIL 
 
 shoot him ; but when little Lulu came in sight with her 
 blue eyes and golden hair they concluded to let him go for 
 her sake. 
 
 Muff wanted very much to go to church Sundays. He- 
 went everywhere else with Lulu, and why he was shut up 
 to private meditation on Sundays was a thing he could not 
 understand. So he would watch his opportunity arid slip 
 out of a door or window, and trot off to church, and to 
 Lulu s astonishment appear suddenly in the broad aisle. 
 Once he even went up and sat in the chancel as grave and 
 innocent as possible. Lulu s heart was in her mouth when 
 the sexton put him out, and she had to leave church to go 
 home with him. 
 
 " How often must I tell you, Muffie, church is n t for 
 dogs ? " she said, when she got him safe home. " You 
 may go everywhere else with me, but you mustn t go to 
 church ! " 
 
 Muffie could not speak, but his eyes said, " Why must n t 
 I ? " as plainly as the thing could be spoken. 
 
 However, on reflection, Muff thought he had found out a 
 way to manage the matter. He waited till everybody was 
 in church one Sunday, and then jumped out of the pantry 
 window and trotted off to meeting. He took possession of 
 a deserted slip near the door, and, mounting the seat, sat up 
 as grave as a judge, and seemed resolved to show that a dog 
 could act like a good Christian. 
 
 For a while all went on very well, and nobody noticed 
 that he was there ; but at last a great bluebottle fly whizzed 
 down into his face, when " whack " came out Muff s short 
 bark. Everybody looked round, and Muff barked again ; 
 then Lulu got up and ran down the aisle just as the sexton 
 seized him. 
 
 " Oh, please don t do anything to him ! " said Lulu. 
 " You know he s only a dog ; I try to teach him so hard, 
 but he won t learn." 
 
LULU S PUPIL 305 
 
 The sexton smiled on the little maiden, and she took her 
 pet home. 
 
 " Muffie, Mufne, what trouble you do make me ! " she 
 said ; " but yet I love you, and I would n t have you sent 
 off for the world." 
 
 Since then little Lulu has grown a bigger girl, and Muff 
 has grown an older and a soberer dog. He no longer chews 
 up her shoes and stockings, and he has learned to spend 
 Sundays in private reflection, but he never will learn not to 
 bark. Little by little, however, people have become used 
 to his noise ; and like him in spite of it. 
 
THE DAISY S FIEST WINTER 
 
 SOMEWHERE in a garden of this earth, which the dear 
 Lord has planted with many flowers of gladness, grew a 
 fresh, bright little daisy. 
 
 The first this little daisy knew, she found herself grow 
 ing in green pastures and beside the still waters where the 
 Heavenly Shepherd was leading his sheep. And very beau 
 tiful did life look to her, as her bright little eyes, with their 
 crimson lashes, opened and looked down into the deep crys 
 tal waters of the brook below, where the sunshine made 
 every hour more sparkles, more rings of light, and more 
 brilliant glances and changes of color, than all the jewelers 
 in the world could imitate. She knew intimately all the 
 yellow-birds and meadow-larks and bobolinks and black 
 birds, that sang, piped, whistled, or chattered among the 
 bushes and trees in the pasture, and she was a prime favo 
 rite with them all. 
 
 Multitudes of beautiful flowers grew up in the water, or 
 on the moist edges of the brook. There were green arrow 
 heads, which in their time gave forth their white blossoms 
 with a little gold ball in the centre of each ; and the pick 
 erel-weed, with its thick, sharp, green leaf, and its sturdy 
 spike of blue blossoms ; and the tall meadow-grass, with its 
 graceful green tassels hanging down and making wavy 
 reflections in the water ; and there was the silver-weed, 
 whose leaves as they dipped in the brook seemed to be of 
 molten silver, and whose tall heads of fringy white blos 
 soms sent forth a grateful perfume in the air ; and there, 
 too, were the pink and white azalias, full of sweetness and 
 
THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER 307 
 
 beauty, and close along in the green mosses of the banks 
 grew blue and white violets, and bloodroot, with its silvery 
 stars of blossom ; and the purple hepatica, with its quaint 
 hairy leaves ; and the slender wind-flower on its thread 
 like stem ; and the crowfoot, with its dark bronze leaf and 
 its half-shut flower, looking like the outside of a pink sea- 
 shell. 
 
 These beautiful blooming things did not all blossom 
 at once, but had their graceful changes ; and there was 
 always a pleasant flutter of expectation among them, 
 either a sending forth of leaves, or a making of buds, or a 
 bursting out into blossoms ; and when the blossoms passed 
 away, there was a thoughtful, careful maturing of seeds, all 
 packed away so snugly in their little coffers and caskets of 
 seed-pods, which were of every quaint and dainty shape 
 that ever could be fancied for a lady s jewel-box. Over 
 head there grew a wide-spreading apple-tree, which in the 
 month of June became a gigantic bouquet, holding up to 
 the sun a million silvery opening flowers, and a million 
 pink-tipped buds ; and the little winds would come to play 
 in its branches, and take the pink shells of the blossoms 
 for their tiny air-boats, in which they would go floating 
 round among the flowers, or sail on voyages of discovery 
 down the stream ; and when the time of its blossom was 
 gone, the bountiful tree from year to year had matured 
 fruits of golden ripeness which cheered the hearts of men. 
 
 Little Daisy s life was only one varied delight from day 
 to day. She had a hundred playmates among the light- 
 winged winds, that came to her every hour to tell her what 
 was going on all over the green pasture, and to bring her 
 sweet perfumed messages from the violets and anemones of 
 even the more distant regions. 
 
 There was not a ring of sunlight that danced in the 
 golden network at the bottom of the brook that did not 
 bring a thrill of gladness to her heart; not a tiny fish 
 
308 THE DAISY S FIKST WINTER 
 
 glided in his crystal paths, or played and frolicked under 
 the water-lily shadows, that was not a well-known friend 
 of hers, and whose pleasures she did not share. At night 
 she held conferences with the dew-drops that stepped about 
 among the flowers in their bright pearl slippers, and washed 
 their leaves and faces before they went to rest. Nice little 
 nurses and dressing-maids these dews! and they kept 
 tender guard all night over the flowers, watching and 
 blinking wakefully to see that all was safe ; but when the 
 sun arose, each of them spread a pair of little rainbow 
 wings, and was gone. 
 
 To be sure, there were some reverses in her lot. Some 
 times a great surly, ill-looking cloud would appear in the 
 sky, like a cross schoolmaster, and sweep up all the sun 
 beams, and call in a gruff voice to the little winds, her 
 playfellows, to come away from their nonsense ; and then 
 he would send a great strong wind down on them all, with 
 a frightful noise, and roar, and sweep all the little flowers 
 flat to the earth ; and there would be a great rush and pat 
 tering of rain-drops, and bellowing of thunders, and sharp 
 forked lightnings would quiver through the air as if the 
 green pastures certainly were to be torn to pieces ; but in 
 about half an hour it would be all over, the sunbeams 
 would all dance out from their hiding-places, just as good 
 as if nothing had happened, and the little winds would 
 come laughing back, and each little flower would lift itself 
 up, and the winds would help them to shake off the wet 
 and plume themselves as jauntily as if nothing had gone 
 amiss. Daisy had the greatest pride and joy in her own 
 pink blossoms, of which there seemed to be an inexhausti 
 ble store ; for, as fast as one dropped its leaves, another 
 was ready to open its eyes, and there were buds of every 
 size, waiting still to come on, even down to little green 
 cushions of buds that lay hidden away in the middle of the 
 leaves down close to the root. " How favored I am ! " 
 
THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER 309 
 
 said Daisy ; " I never stop blossoming. The anemones 
 and the liverwort and the bloodroot have their time, but 
 then they stop and have only leaves, while I go on bloom 
 ing perpetually ; how nice it is to be made as I am ! " 
 
 " But you must remember/ said a great rough Burdock 
 to her, " you must remember that your winter must 
 come at last, when all this fine blossoming will have to be 
 done with." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Daisy, in a tone of pride, 
 eyeing her rough neighbor with a glance of disgust. " You 
 are a rough, ugly old thing, and that s why you are cross. 
 Pretty people like me can afford to be good-natured." 
 
 " Ah, well," said Dame Burdock, " you 11 see. It s a 
 pretty thing if a young chit just out from seed this year 
 should be impertinent to me, who have seen twenty win 
 ters, yes, and been through them well, too ! " 
 
 " Tell me, Bobolink," said Daisy, " is there any truth 
 in what this horrid Burdock has been saying ? What does 
 she mean by winter ? " 
 
 " I don t know, not I," said Bobolink, as he turned a 
 dozen somersets in the air, and then perched himself airily 
 on a thistle-head, singing, 
 
 " I don t know, and I don t care ; 
 It s mighty pleasant to fly up there, 
 And it s mighty pleasant to light down here, 
 And all I know is chip, chip, cheer." 
 
 " Say, Humming-bird, do you know anything about 
 winter ? " 
 
 " Winter ? I never saw one," said Humming-bird ; 
 " we have wings, and follow summer round the world, and 
 where she is, there go we." 
 
 " Meadow-lark, Meadow-lark, have you ever heard of 
 winter ? " said Daisy. 
 
 Meadow-lark was sure he never remembered one. " What 
 is winter ? " he said, looking confused. 
 
310 THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER 
 
 " Butterfly, Butterfly," said Daisy, " come, tell me, will 
 there be winter, and what is winter ? " 
 
 But the Butterfly laughed, and danced up and down, and 
 said, " What is Daisy talking about ? I never heard of 
 winter. Winter ? ha ! ha ! What is it ? " 
 
 " Then it s only one of Burdock s spiteful sayings," 
 said Daisy. " Just because she is n t pretty, she wants to 
 spoil my pleasure too. Say, dear lovely tree that shades 
 me so sweetly, is there such a thing as winter ? " 
 
 And the tree said, with a sigh through its leaves, " Yes, 
 daughter, there will be winter ; but fear not, for the Good 
 Shepherd makes both summer and winter, and each is good 
 in its time. Enjoy the summer and fear not." 
 
 The months rolled by. The violets had long ago stopped 
 blooming, their leaves were turning yellow, but they had 
 beautiful green seed-caskets, full of rows of little pearls, 
 which next year should come up in blue violets. The dog- 
 toothed violet and the eye-bright had gone under ground, 
 so that no more was seen of them, and Daisy wondered 
 whither they could be gone. But she had new acquaint 
 ances far more brilliant, and she forgot the others. The 
 brook-side seemed all on fire with golden-rod, and the bright 
 yellow was relieved by the rich purple tints of the asters, 
 while the blue fringed gentian held up its cups, that seemed 
 as if they might have been cut out of the sky, and still 
 Daisy had abundance of leaves and blossoms, and felt strong 
 and well at the root. Then the apple-tree cast down to 
 the ground its fragrant burden of golden apples, and men 
 came and carried them away. 
 
 By and by there came keen, cutting winds, and driving 
 storms of sleet and hail ; and then at night it would be so 
 cold, so cold ! and one after another the leaves and flowers 
 fell stiff and frozen, and grew black, and turned to decay, 
 The leaves loosened and fell from the apple-tree, and sailed 
 away by thousands down the brook j the butterflies lay 
 
THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER 311 
 
 dead with the flowers, but all the birds had gone singing 
 away to the sunny south, following the summer into other 
 lands. 
 
 " Tell me, dear tree/ said Daisy, " is this winter that is 
 coming ? " 
 
 " It is winter, darling," said the tree ; " but fear not. 
 The Good Shepherd makes winter as well as summer." 
 
 " I still hold my blossoms," said Daisy, for Daisy was 
 a hardy little thing. 
 
 But the frosts came harder and harder every night, and 
 first they froze her blossoms, and then they froze her leaves, 
 and finally all, all were gone, there was nothing left but 
 the poor little root, with the folded leaves of the future 
 held in its bosom. 
 
 " Ah, dear tree ! " said Daisy, " is not this dreadful ! " 
 
 " Be patient, darling," said the tree. " I have seen many, 
 many winters ; but the Good Shepherd loses never a seed, 
 never a root, never a flower : they will all come again." 
 
 By and by came colder days and colder, and the brook 
 froze to its little heart and stopped ; and then there came 
 bitter, driving storms, and the snow lay wreathed over 
 Daisy s head ; but still from the bare branches of the 
 apple-tree came a voice of cheer. " Courage, darling, and 
 patience ! Not a flower shall be lost : winter is only for a 
 season." 
 
 " It is so dreary ! " murmured Daisy, deep in her bosom. 
 
 " It will be short : the spring will come again," said the 
 tree. 
 
 And at last the spring did come ; and the snow melted 
 and ran away down the brook, and the sun shone out warm, 
 and fresh green leaves jumped and sprang out of every dry 
 twig of the apple-tree. And one bright, rejoicing day, little 
 Daisy opened her eyes, and lo ! there were all her friends 
 once more ; there were the eye-brights and the violets 
 and the anemones and the liverwort, only ever so many 
 
312 THE DAISY S FIRST WINTER 
 
 more of them than there were last year, because each little 
 pearl of a seed had been nursed and moistened by the snows 
 of winter, and had come up as a little plant to have its own 
 flowers. The birds all came back, and began building their 
 nests, and everything was brighter and fairer than before ; 
 and Daisy felt strong at heart, because she had been through 
 a winter, and learned not to fear it. She looked up into 
 the apple-tree. " Will there be more winters, dear tree ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Darling, there will ; but fear not. Enjoy the present 
 hour, and leave future winters to Him who makes them. 
 Thou hast come through these sad hours, because the Shep 
 herd remembered thee. He loseth never a flower out of his 
 pasture, but calleth them all by name : and the snow will 
 never drive so cold, or the wind beat so hard, as to hurt one 
 of his flowers. And look ! of all the flowers of last year, 
 what one is melted away in the snow, or forgotten in the 
 number of green things ? Every blade of grass is counted, 
 and puts up its little head in the right time ; so never fear, 
 Daisy, for thou shalt blossom stronger and brighter for the 
 winter." 
 
 " But why must there be winter ? " said Daisy. 
 
 " I never ask why," said the tree. " My business is to 
 blossom and bear apples. Summer comes, and I am joyful ; 
 winter comes, and I am patient. But, darling, there is an 
 other garden where thou and I shall be transplanted one 
 day, where there shall be winter no more. There is coming 
 a new earth ; and not one flower or leaf of these green pas 
 tures shall be wanting there, but come as surely as last 
 year s flowers come back this spring ! " 
 
OUK CHAELET AND THE STOEIES TOLD HIM 
 OUR CHAELEY 
 
 WHEN the blaze of the wood fire flickers up and down in 
 our snug evening parlor, there dances upon the wall a little 
 shadow with a pug nose, a domestic household shadow a 
 busy shadow a little restless specimen of perpetual mo 
 tion, and the owner thereof is " Our Charley. " 
 
 Now, we should not write about him and his ways, if he 
 were strictly a peculiar and individual existence of our own 
 home circle ; but it is not so. " Our Charley " exists in a 
 thousand, nay, a million families ; he has existed in millions 
 in all time back : his name is variously rendered in all the 
 tongues of the earth ; nay, there are a thousand synonyms 
 for him in English for certainly " our Willie," or " our 
 Harry," or " our Georgie," belongs to the same snub-nosed, 
 rosy-cheeked, restless shadow-maker. So in France, he is 
 " Leonce," or " Pierre," as well as " Charles ; " in Italy, he 
 is " Carlino " or " Francesco ; " in Germany, " Max," 
 " Carl ," or " Wilhelm ; " and in China, he is little " Ling- 
 Fung," with a long silk tail on the back of his head, but 
 the same household sprite among them all : in short, we 
 take " our Charley " in a generic sense, and we mean to treat 
 of him as a little copy of a grown man enacting in a shad 
 owy ballet by the fireside all that men act in earnest in after 
 life. He is a looking-glass for grown people, in which they 
 may see how certain things become them in which they 
 may sometimes even see streaks and gleamings of something 
 wiser than all the harsh conflict of life teaches them. 
 
314 OUR CHAKLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 " Our Charley " is generally considered by the world as 
 an idle little dog, whose pursuits, being very unimportant, 
 may be put off or put by for every and any body ; but the 
 world, as usual, is very much mistaken. "No man is more 
 pressed with business, and needs more prudence, energy, 
 tact, and courage to carry out his schemes, in face of all the 
 opposing circumstances that grown people constantly throw 
 in his way. 
 
 Has he not ships to build and to sail ? and has he not 
 vast engineerings to make ponds and docks in every puddle 
 or brook, where they shall anchor ? Is not his pocket 
 stuffed with materials for sails and cordage ? And yet, like 
 a man of the world as he is, all this does not content him, 
 but he must own railroad stock too. If he lives where a 
 steam whistle has vibrated, it has awakened an unquiet 
 yearning within him, and some day he harnesses all the 
 chairs into a train, and makes a locomotive of your work- 
 table and a steam whistle of himself. He inspects toy-shop 
 windows, gets up flirtations with benevolent shopmen ; and 
 when he gets his mouth close to papa s ear, reveals to him 
 how Mr. So-and-so has a locomotive that will wind up and 
 go alone so cheap too can t papa get it for him ? And 
 so papa (all papas do) goes soberly down and buys it, though 
 he knows it will be broken in a week. 
 
 Then what raptures ! The dear locomotive ! the darling 
 black chimney sleeps under his pillow that he may feel of 
 it in the night, and be sure when he first wakes that the 
 joy is not evaporated. He bores everybody to death with 
 it as artlessly as grown people do with their hobbies. But 
 at last the ardor runs out. His darling is found to have 
 faults. He picks it to pieces to make it work better ; finds 
 too late that he can t put it together again ; and so he casts 
 it aside, and makes a locomotive out of a broken wheel* 
 barrow and some barrel staves. 
 
 Do you, my brother, or grown-up sister, ever do anything 
 
OUK CHARLEY 315 
 
 like this ? Do your friendships and loves ever go the course 
 of our Charley s toys ? First, enthusiasm ; second, satiety ; 
 third, discontent ; then picking to pieces ; then dropping 
 and losing? How many idols are in your hox of by-gone 
 playthings ? And may it not be as well to suggest to you, 
 when you find flaws in your next one, to inquire before you 
 pick to pieces whether you can put together again, or 
 whether what you call defect is not a part of its nature ? 
 A tin locomotive won t draw a string of parlor chairs, by 
 any possible alteration, but it may be very pretty for all 
 that it was made for. Charley and you might both learn 
 something from this. 
 
 Charley s business career, as we have before intimated, 
 has its trials. It is hard for him to find time for it ; so 
 many impertinent interruptions. For instance, there are 
 four hours of school, taken out of the best part of the day ; 
 four mortal hours, in which he might make ships, or build 
 dams, or run railroad cars, he is obliged to leave all his af 
 fairs, often in very precarious situations, and go through the 
 useless ceremony of reading and spelling. When he comes 
 home, the house-maid has swept his foremast into the fire, 
 and mamma has put his top-sails into the rag-bag, and all 
 his affairs are in a desperate situation. Sometimes he gets 
 terribly misanthropic ; all grown people seem conspiring 
 against him ; he is called away from his serious business so 
 often, and his attention distracted with such trifling mat 
 ters, that he is indignant. He is rushing through the pas 
 sage in hot haste, hands full of nails, strings, and twine, 
 and Mary seizes him and wants to brush his hair ; he is in 
 terrupted in a burst of enthusiasm, and told to wash his 
 hands for dinner ; or perhaps a greater horror than all 
 company is expected, and he must put on a clean new 
 suit, just as he has made all the arrangements for a ship- 
 launching down by the swamp. This dressing and wash 
 ing he regards with unutterable contempt and disgust ; 
 
316 OUK CHAKLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 secretly, too, he is skeptical about the advantages of going 
 to school and learning to read ; he believes, to be sure, 
 when papa and mamma tell him of unknown future advan 
 tages to come when he is a " great man ; " but then, the 
 present he is sure of ; his ships and sloops, his bits of string 
 and fish-hooks, and old corks and broken railroad cars, and 
 above all, his new skates ; these are realities. And he 
 knows also what Tom White and Bill Smith say ; and so 
 he walks by sight more than by faith. 
 
 Ah, the child is father of the man ! When he gets older 
 he will have the great toys of which these are emblems ; 
 he will believe in what he sees and touches in house, 
 land, railroad stock he will believe in these earnestly 
 and really, and in his eternal manhood nominally and par 
 tially. And when his Father s messengers meet him, and 
 face him about, and take him off his darling pursuits, and 
 sweep his big ships into the fire, and crush his full-grown 
 cars, then the grown man will complain and murmur, and 
 wonder as the little man does now. The Father wants the 
 future, the Child the present, all through life, till death 
 makes the child a man. 
 
 So, though our Charley has his infirmities, he is a little 
 bit of a Christian after all. Like you, brother, he has his 
 good hours, when he sits still and calm, and is told of 
 Jesus ; and his cheeks glow, and tears come to his eyes ; his 
 bosom heaves ; and now he is sure he is going to be always 
 good ; he is never going to be naughty. He will stand still 
 to have his hair combed ; he will come the first time mother 
 speaks ; he will never speak a cross word to Katy ; he 
 repents of having tyrannized over grandmamma, and made 
 poor mamma s head ache ; and is quite sure that he has now 
 got the victory over sin. Like the Israelites by the Red 
 Sea, he beholds his spiritual enemies dead on the sea-shore. 
 But to-morrow, in one hour even, what becomes of his good 
 resolutions ? What becomes of yours on Monday ? 
 
OUR CHARLEY 317 
 
 With all our Charley s backslidings, he may teach us one 
 thing which we have forgotten. When Jesus would teach 
 his disciples what faith was, he took a child and set him 
 in the midst of them. We do not suppose that this child 
 was one of those exceptional ones who have memoirs writ 
 ten, hut a common average child, with its smiles and tears, 
 its little naughtinesses and goodnesses ; and its aptness as 
 an example was not in virtue of an exceptional but a uni 
 versal quality. If you want to study, go to school to your 
 Charley. See his faith in you. Does he not believe that 
 you have boundless wealth, boundless wisdom, infinite 
 strength ? Is he not certain of your love to that degree 
 that he cannot be repelled from you ? Does he hesitate to 
 question you on anything celestial or terrestrial ? Is not 
 your word enough to outweigh that of the wisest of the 
 earth ? You might talk him out of the sight of his eyes, 
 the hearing of his ears, so boundless is his faith in you. 
 Even checks and frowns cannot make him doubt your love ; 
 and though sometimes, when you cross him, the naughty 
 murmuring spirit arises, yet in an hour it dissolves, and 
 his little soul flows back, prattling and happy, into your 
 bosom. Be only to God as he is to you, and the fireside 
 shadow shall not have been by your hearth in vain. 
 
 But what is to be done with our Charley ? Yes, that 
 is the question ! The fact is, there seems to be no place 
 in heaven above, or earth beneath, that is exactly safe and 
 suitable, except the bed. While he is asleep, then our 
 souls have rest ; we know where he is and what he is about, 
 and sleep is a gracious state ; but then he wakes up bright 
 and early, and begins tooting, pounding, hammering, sing 
 ing, meddling, asking questions, and, in short, overturning 
 the peace of society generally, for about thirteen hours out 
 of the twenty-four. 
 
 Everybody wants to know what to do with him every 
 body is quite sure that he can t stay where they are. The 
 
318 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 cook can t have him in the kitchen, where he infests the pan 
 try to get flour to make paste for his kites, or melts lead in 
 the new saucepan. If he goes into the wood-shed, he is 
 sure to pull the wood-pile down upon his head. If he be 
 sent up garret, you think for a while that you have settled 
 the problem, till you find what a boundless field of activity 
 is opened amid all the packages, boxes, bags, barrels, and 
 cast-off rubbish there. Old letters, newspapers, trunks of 
 miscellaneous contents, are all rummaged, and the very 
 reign of Chaos and old Night is instituted. He sees end 
 less capabilities in all things, and is always hammering some 
 thing, or knocking something apart, or sawing or planing, 
 or dragging boxes or barrels in all directions to build cities, 
 or laying railroad tracks, till everybody s head aches, quite 
 down to the lower floor, and everybody declares that 
 Charley must be kept out of the garret. 
 
 Then you send Charley to school, and hope you are fairly 
 rid of him, for a few hours at least. But he comes home 
 noisier and busier than ever, having learned of some twenty 
 other Charleys every separate resource for keeping up a 
 commotion that a superabundant vitality of each can origi 
 nate. He can dance like Jim Smith ; he has learned to 
 smack his lips like Joe Brown ; Will Briggs has shown 
 him how to mew like a cat ; and he enters the house with 
 a new war-whoop learned from Tom Evans. He feels large 
 and valorous ; he has learned that he is a boy, and has a 
 general impression that he is growing immensely strong and 
 knowing, and despises more than ever the conventionalities 
 of parlor-life in fact he is more than ever an interruption 
 in the way of decent folks, who want to be quiet. 
 
 It is true that, if entertaining persons will devote them 
 selves to him exclusively, reading and telling stories, he 
 may be kept in a state of quiescence ; but then this is dis 
 couraging work, for he swallows a story as a dog does a 
 piece of meat, and looks at you for another, and another 
 
OUR CHARLEY 319 
 
 without the slightest consideration, so that this resource is 
 of short duration ; and then the old question comes up, 
 What is to be done with him ? 
 
 But, after all, Charley is not to be wholly shirked, for 
 he is an institution, a solemn and awful fact ; and on the 
 answer of the question, What is to be done with him ? de 
 pends a future. Many a hard, morose, and bitter man has 
 come from a Charley turned off and neglected many a 
 parental heart-ache has come from a Charley left to run the 
 streets, that mamma and sisters might play on the piano 
 and write letters in peace. It is easy to get rid of him 
 there are fifty ways of doing that he is a spirit that can 
 be promptly laid for a season, but if not laid aright, will 
 come back by and by, a strong man armed, when you can 
 not send him off at pleasure. 
 
 Mamma and sisters had better pay a little tax to Charley 
 now, than a terrible one by and by. There is something 
 significant in the old English phrase, with which our Scrip 
 tures make us familiar a man child ! A MAN child ! 
 there you have the word that should make you think more 
 than twice before you answer the question, What shall we 
 do with Charley ? 
 
 For to-day he is at your feet to-day you can make him 
 laugh, you can make him cry, you can persuade and coax, 
 and turn him to your pleasure ; you can make his eyes fill 
 and his bosom swell with recitals of good and noble deeds ; 
 in short, you can mould him if you will take the trouble. 
 
 But look ahead some years, when that little voice shall 
 ring in deep bass tones ; when that small foot shall have a 
 man s weight and tramp ; when a rough beard shall cover 
 that little round chin, and all the strengh of manhood fill 
 out that little form. Then you would give worlds to have 
 the key to his heart, to be able to turn and guide him to 
 your will ; but if you lose that key now he is little, you 
 may search for it carefully with tears some other day, and 
 
320 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 not find it. Old housekeepers have a proverb, that one 
 hour lost in the morning is never found all day it has a 
 significance in this case. 
 
 One thing is to be noticed about Charley that, rude, 
 and busy, and noisy as he inclines to be, and irksome as carpet 
 rules and parlor ways are to him, he is still a social little 
 creature, and wants to be where the rest of the household 
 are. A room ever so well adapted for a play-room cannot 
 charm him at the hour when the family is in reunion ; he 
 hears the voices in the parlor, and his play-room seems cold 
 and desolate it may be warmed by a fire and lighted with 
 gas, but it is human light and warmth he shivers for he 
 longs to take his things down and play by you ; he yearns 
 to hear the talk of the family, which he so imperfectly 
 comprehends, and is incessantly promising that of the fifty 
 improper things which he is liable to do in the parlor, he 
 will not commit one if you will let him stay there. 
 
 This instinct of the little one is Nature s warning plea 
 God s admonition. Oh, how many a mother who has neg 
 lected it, because it was irksome to have the child about, has 
 longed, when her son was a man, to keep him by her side, 
 and he would not ! Shut out as a little Arab constantly 
 told that he is noisy, that he is awkward and meddlesome, 
 and a plague in general the boy has at last found his own 
 company in the streets, in the highways and hedges where 
 he runs, till the day comes when the parents want their son, 
 the sisters their brother ; and then they are scared at the 
 face he brings back to them, as he comes all foul and smutty 
 from the companionship to which they have doomed him. 
 Depend upon it, mothers, and elder sisters, if it is too much 
 trouble to keep Charley in your society, there will be places 
 found for him, warmed and lighted with no friendly fires, 
 where he who " finds some mischief still for idle hands to 
 do " will care for him if you do not. You may put out a 
 tree, and it will grow aright while you sleep ; but a son you 
 
OUR CHARLEY 321 
 
 cannot treat so. You must take trouble for him, either 
 a little now, or a good deal by and by. 
 
 Let him stay with you at least some portion of every day. 
 Put aside your book or work to tell him a story, or read to 
 him from some book. Devise still parlor plays for him, for 
 he gains nothing if he be allowed to spoil the comfort of the 
 whole circle. A pencil and a sheet of paper, and a few pat 
 terns, will often keep him quiet for an hour by your side ; 
 or in a corner he may build a block house, annoying nobody ; 
 and if occasionally he does disturb you now, balance in your 
 own mind which is the greatest evil, to be disturbed by him 
 now, or when he is a man. 
 
 Of all that you can give your Charley, if you are a good 
 man or woman, your presence is the best and safest thing. 
 God never meant him to do without you, any more than 
 chickens were meant to grow without being brooded. 
 
 Then let him have some place in the house where it shall 
 be no sin to hammer, and pound, and saw, and make all the 
 litter that his various schemes of business require. Even if 
 you can ill afford the room, weigh well which is best, to 
 spare him that safe asylum, or take the chance of one which 
 he may find for himself in the street. 
 
 Of all devices for Charley which we have tried, a few 
 shelves, which he may dignify with the name of cabinet, is 
 one of the best. He picks up shells, and pebbles, and 
 stones all odds and ends ; nothing comes amiss ; and if 
 you give him a pair of scissors and a little gum, there is no 
 end of the labels he will paste on, and the hours that he 
 may innocently spend in sorting and arranging. A bottle 
 of liquid gum is an invaluable resource for various purposes ; 
 nor must you mind though he varnish his nose and fingers, 
 and clothes, so that he do nothing worse. A cheap paint 
 box, and some engravings to color, is another ; and if you 
 will give him some real paint and putty, to paint and putty 
 his boats and cars, he is a made man. All these things 
 
322 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 make trouble, to be sure they do, and will, but Charley 
 is to make trouble ; that is the nature of the institution. 
 You are only to choose between safe and wholesome 
 trouble and the trouble that comes at last like a whirlwind. 
 
 God bless the little fellow, and send us all grace to know 
 what to do with him ! 
 
 The stories following are some of those with which one 
 mother has beguiled the twilight hours of one Charley ; they 
 are given in hopes that other mothers may find pleasure in 
 reading them to their Charleys. 
 
TAKE CAEE OF THE HOOK 
 
 CHARLEY S mother would often sit with him by the fire, 
 before the lamp was lighted in the evening, and repeat to 
 him little pieces of poetry. This is one that Charley used 
 to like particularly. It is written by Miss Jane Taylor. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE LITTLE FISH 
 
 "Dear mother," said a little fish, 
 
 " Pray is not that a fly ? 
 I m very hungry, and I wish 
 
 You d let me go and try." 
 
 "Sweet innocent," the mother cried, 
 
 And started from her nook, 
 " That horrid fly is meant to hide 
 
 The sharpness of the hook! " 
 
 Now, as I ve heard, this little trout 
 
 Was young and silly too ; 
 And so he thought he d venture out, 
 
 To see what he could do. 
 
 And round about the fly he played, 
 
 With many a longing look; 
 And often to himself he said, 
 
 " I m sure that s not a hook. 
 
 "I can but give one little pluck 
 
 To try, and so I will." 
 So on he went, and lo, it stuck 
 
 Quite through his little gill. 
 
 And as he faint and fainter grew, 
 
 With hollow voice he cried, 
 "Dear mother, if I d minded you, 
 
 I should not thus have died." 
 
324 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 After this was finished, Charley looked gravely into the 
 fire, and began his remarks upon it. " What a silly fellow 
 that little trout was ! He might have known better." 
 
 " Take care, Charley," said his mamma ; " there are a 
 great many little boys just as silly as this trout. For 
 instance, I knew a little boy, a while ago, whose mamma 
 told him not to touch green apples or currants, because they 
 would make him sick. He did not mean to touch them, for 
 he knew that it is very disagreeable to be sick and take 
 medicine, but yet he did the very same thing that this little 
 trout did. 
 
 " Instead of keeping far away, he would walk about under 
 the trees and pick up the green apples to look at, and feel 
 of the green currants, just as the fish would play round the 
 hook. By and by he said, f l really don t think they will 
 hurt me ; I will just take one little taste. And then he ate 
 one, and then another, till finally he got very sick. Do you 
 remember ? " 
 
 " Oh, mamma, that was I. Yes, I remember." 
 
 " Now, Charley, hear what I tell you : nobody does very 
 wrong things because he means to at first. People begin by 
 little and little, just tasting and trying what is wrong, like 
 this little fish. 
 
 " There is George Johnson, a very fine boy, a bright boy, 
 and one who means to do right ; but then George does not 
 always keep away from the hook. You will see him some 
 times standing round places where men are drinking and 
 swearing. George does not mean ever to drink or to swear ; 
 he only stands there to hear these men sing their songs and 
 tell their stories, and sometimes he will drink just a little 
 sip of sugar and spirits out of the bottom of a tumbler ; but 
 George never means really to be a drunkard. Ah, take care, 
 George ; the little fish did not mean to be caught either, 
 but he kept playing round and round and round the hook, 
 and at last he was snapped up ; and so you will be if you 
 don t take care. 
 
TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK 325 
 
 " Then William Day means to be an honest boy, and you 
 could not make him more angry than to tell him he would 
 ever be a thief ; and yet William plays too much round the 
 hook. What does he do ? Why, he will take little things 
 out of his father s desk or shop, or out of his mother s basket 
 or drawers, when he really does not want his father or mother 
 to see him or find it out. William thinks, Oh, it s only a 
 little thing; it isn t much matter; I dare say they had just 
 as lief I had it as not. Ah, William, do you think so ? 
 Why do you not go to your parents and ask for it, then ? 
 No ; the fact is that William is learning to steal, but he does 
 not believe it is stealing any more than the little fish believed 
 that what looked like a fly was in fact a dreadful hook. 
 By and by, if William does n t take care, when he goes into 
 a shop or store, he will begin to take little things from his 
 master just as he did from his father and mother; and he 
 will take more and more, till finally he will be named and 
 disgraced as a thief, and all because, like the little fish, he 
 would play around the hook." 
 
 " Mamma," said Charley, " who are George Johnson and 
 William Day ? Did I ever see them ? " 
 
 " My dear, I must use names in a story ; I am just mak 
 ing this up to show Charley what I meant by playing 
 round the hook. And now let me teach you a text out of 
 the Bible that means the same thing : He that despiseth 
 small things shall fall by little and little. " 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 
 
 ONE bright morning, when the yellow dandelions were 
 shining out like so many gold dollars in the green grass, 
 and the brooks were chattering and purling to each other, 
 and small eyebrights were looking up from the turf like 
 flocks of little white sheep, a little boy, whom we shall call 
 Jamie, found, all of a sudden, that his school had stopped, 
 and he had come to the first day of his vacation. 
 
 So says Jamie to himself, " What shall I do all day 
 long ? " After a while he thought he would take a basket, 
 and go over into a neighboring field, and gather some eye 
 brights and violets to dress flower vases for his mamma. 
 
 Well, over the fence he went, and wandered far off into 
 the field ; and there he met two strange boys, larger than 
 he, whose names were Will Drake and Charley Jones. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " said one of the boys to him ; " come along 
 with us we are going to have fun. We have got our 
 pockets full of stones, and we are going to kill birds with 
 them ; it s the best fun in the world." 
 
 Now Jamie was a thoughtless little fellow, and when 
 another boy asked him to do a thing, at it he went at once, 
 without so much as thinking whether it was right or not ; 
 so he filled his pockets with stones, and began running and 
 shouting with the other boys. " Hulloa ! there s a chip 
 ping bird," said one; "I ll hit him." "Look at the 
 robin ! " bawled another ; " send a stone at him. Oh, 
 there s a bluebird ! now for him ! " I am happy to say 
 that these boys missed their hits, generally, for they in 
 tended much worse than they were able to do. 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 327 
 
 While they were thus running about a nice white cat 
 came stepping along the top of a fence, putting down her 
 paws as daintily as any lady. " Hulloa ! there s a cat ; 
 now for fun ! " shouted Will Drake, as he let fly a stone, 
 and then dashed after the cat. Puss was frightened, and 
 scampered with all her might ; and all three of the boys 
 joined chase after her, and came tumbling, one after another, 
 over the back-yard fence of the place where Jamie lived. 
 
 But Jamie s mother had been sitting at her window 
 watching the whole affair; and now she stood up, and 
 called, in a very quiet way, " Jamie, come up here ; I have 
 something to show you." 
 
 The other two boys slunk away a little. Jamie came 
 up into his mother s room, all panting and hot, and began, 
 " Mamma, what do you want to show me ? " 
 
 Now Jamie s mamma was a very kind and tender-hearted 
 woman, and nothing seemed more dreadful to her than 
 cruelty to any animal. Some mothers, who felt as she did, 
 would have seized Jamie by the arm, and said, " Here, you 
 naughty boy ; I saw you stoning birds over in the lot ; if 
 you ever do such a thing again, I shall punish you." But 
 Jamie s mother had reflected about these things, and made 
 up her mind that when little boys did cruel things, it was 
 more because they were thoughtless, than because they at 
 heart were cruel ; and, therefore, instead of blaming him 
 harshly, she set out to make him think. 
 
 So, when Jamie came in, she washed his heated face 
 and hands, and then took from a drawer a small black box, 
 which she wound up with a key like a watch-key. As 
 soon as the box was set down, it began to play a most beau 
 tiful tune, and Jamie was astonished and delighted. 
 
 " What a curious box ! " said he ; " who did make 
 it?" 
 
 " I do not know," said his mother ; " but why do you 
 think it is curious ? " 
 
328 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 " Why, it is curious to see a musical instrument shut up 
 in such a little box. Why, I could carry this about in my 
 pocket. I wish t was mine, and 1 d set it a going, and put 
 it in my pocket some day, and then I could make the boys 
 stare." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " if you think it strange to see 
 a musical instrument put in a little box, what would you 
 think if I could tell you of one which was so small as to 
 be put in a bird s throat ? " 
 
 " In a bird s throat ! " said Jamie ; " who ever heard of 
 such a thing ? " 
 
 " Well," answered his mother, " there is a boy in this 
 room who has been listening this morning to a little instru 
 ment which is inside of a bird s throat, and which can 
 make sweeter music than this box ; and yet he did not 
 seem to wonder at it at all." 
 
 Jamie looked wondering at his mother. " When you 
 went into the fields, did you not hear robins and bluebirds 
 playing on little instruments in their throats, and making 
 all sorts of sweet sounds ? Look now at your little can 
 ary bird hanging in the window, and see, when he sings, 
 how his throat trembles." 
 
 " Oh, I know what you mean now," said Jamie : " you 
 mean my little canary bird is like a music-box. Well, 
 but what sort of an instrument has he got in his throat ? 
 1 7 m sure I don t know." 
 
 " Why, he has a little, fine, soft flute, that can play as 
 many notes as a flute with silver keys." 
 
 " A flute in his throat," said Jamie, laughing ; " what a 
 funny idea! " 
 
 " It is even so," said his mother. " The little pipe 
 through which the canary bird plays his tunes is more 
 curiously made than any flutes which any instrument- 
 maker ever formed ; it is so small, yet so perfect ; it fits 
 into his throat so easily as never to interrupt his eating or 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIEDS 329 
 
 breathing ; and it turns whichever way he bends his head. 
 Did you ever hear of any musical instrument that was as 
 curious as this ? " 
 
 " It is very strange," said Jamie ; " I might have heard 
 a bird sing a month, and never have thought of all this j 
 but now I do think of it, it seems very curious. But, 
 mother, what is this little flute made of ? " 
 
 "It is made of little elastic rings." 
 
 " Elastic ! what is that ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " Why, like India rubber, springy and easily bent ; and 
 its being made of so many little elastic rings is the reason 
 why he can turn and bend his throat without any incon 
 venience, which he could not do if it were a straight, stiff 
 pipe like a flute. 
 
 " But," continued his mother, " these little bright eyes 
 that your bird has are more wonderful than anything I 
 have yet told you of ; but the contrivance is so very com 
 plicated that I do not think I can make you understand it." 
 
 " What is complicated ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " The machinery in the inside of my watch is compli 
 cated ; that is, it is made up of a great many parts which 
 answer many different purposes. And there is a machinery 
 inside of one of those little birds eyes that is more com 
 plicated still." 
 
 " What, that little dot of an eye, not bigger than a pin 
 head ? " 
 
 " Well, let me tell you ; inside of that little eye is a 
 contrivance by which, when the bird is looking at you, an 
 exact picture of you is painted on the back of his eye." 
 
 "It must be a very small picture," said Jamie. 
 
 " Of course it is," said his mother, " but still it is a 
 picture exactly like you ; every line and every color in 
 your face is painted exactly on the back of that little eye." 
 
 " Pray, how is it done ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " That, my dear boy, is the machinery which I told you 
 
330 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 was so complicated that I cannot hope to make you under 
 stand it. There is a contrivance just like it in your own 
 eye, and in the eye of every animal ; but it is more curious 
 in a bird s eye because it is so very small." 
 
 " What, do we all have pictures painted on the back of 
 our eyes ? Is that the way we see ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is the way ; and when you are older you 
 will be able to understand the wonderful and beautiful 
 contrivance by which this is done. It has cost learned 
 men much study to find it out, and they have discovered 
 that the way in which the eye of a bird is made is in some 
 respects more curious than our own." 
 
 " Well, mamma/ said Jamie, " there s one thing ; and 
 that is, that there is a great deal more to be learned about 
 a little bird than I ever supposed." 
 
 " But, Jamie, I have not yet told you half. Every 
 bone in this little bird s body is as carefully made and fin 
 ished as if that bone were the only thing the Creator had 
 to make ; and the joints of them are curiously contrived, 
 so that the little fellow can hop, and spring, and turn all 
 day, and yet nothing grates or gets out of order. They all 
 move so springily and easily, that I doubt whether he ever 
 thought whether he had a joint in his body or riot. Then 
 he has contrivances in his little stomach for dissolving his 
 food, and turning it into blood, and he has blood vessels to 
 carry it all over his body, and he has nerves to feel with, 
 and he has muscles to move with." 
 
 " Now, mother, I don t know what nerves and muscles 
 are," said Jamie. 
 
 "Nerves are what you feel with. You eat, and the 
 nerves of your mouth give you your taste. The nerves of 
 your nose give you smell. The nerves of your eyes see, 
 and the nerves of your ears enable you to hear, and the 
 nerves that cover your whole body enable you to feel. 
 These nerves all come from a very large nerve that runs 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 331 
 
 down through the middle of your back-bone, and is called 
 the spinal marrow ; and they go through the whole body, 
 dividing and branching out, till they form a network cover 
 ing over the whole of it, so that you cannot put the point 
 of a pin anywhere without touching a nerve." 
 
 " Mother, has a bird just such nerves ? " 
 
 " Very much the same." 
 
 " And what are muscles ? " 
 
 "Did you ever pull a piece of lean meat into little 
 strings ? " said his mother. 
 
 " Yes," said Jamie. 
 
 "Well, a muscle is a bundle of such little strings, and 
 these strings generally end in a strong, tough cord, called a 
 tendon. This muscle has the power of shrinking up short, 
 like India rubber ; and when it shrinks it pulls the ten 
 don and the tendon pulls whatever it is fastened to. I can 
 show you some tendon in a moment. Pull the back of 
 your hand ; don t you find that there is a tough, hard cord 
 runs down from every finger ? these are tendons. Now 
 take hold tight round your arm, and shut up your hand." 
 
 Jamie did so, and exclaimed, " Oh, mother, when I shut 
 up my hand, I feel something move up here by my elbow." 
 
 " That is the muscle," said his mother ; " you feel it 
 drawing up short, and it pulls the tendons, and these ten 
 dons pull down your fingers." 
 
 Jamie amused himself some time with opening and shut 
 ting his hand, and then he said, 
 
 il Well, are all the movements that we make done in the 
 same way, by muscles and tendons ? " 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, " and all the motions of the 
 animals. There are dozens and dozens of muscles, shrink 
 ing, and stretching, and pulling about in little Cherry every 
 few moments, and yet none of them wear out, or break, or 
 get out of order or give him the least trouble." 
 
 " I guess Cherry don t think much about them," said 
 
332 OUR CHAELEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 Jamie, as he watched the little fellow hopping about in his 
 cage. 
 
 " Poor little Cherry/ 7 said his mother, " he cannot 
 understand how much God has done for him, with what 
 watchful care he has made his little hody, how carefully he 
 has guarded it from all kinds of suffering, and how many 
 beautiful contrivances there are in it to make him happy." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Jamie ; " if he did he would love 
 God." 
 
 " Well, Jamie," said his mother, " how should you feel, 
 if you had contrived some curious and beautiful little play 
 thing, and just as you had it all nicely finished off, some 
 boy should come along with a great stick, and knock it all 
 to pieces ? " 
 
 " Feel ? " said Jamie ; " why, I should be mad enough ! " 
 
 " And suppose that some gentleman should invite you 
 and two or three other boys to his house, and should show 
 you into a large hall full of most beautiful pictures and 
 looking-glasses, and flowers, and every kind of beautiful 
 things, and you should amuse yourselves with breaking his 
 looking-glasses, and beating down his flowers, and pulling 
 to pieces all his curious and beautiful things ; how do you 
 think he would feel ? " 
 
 " Why, I should think he would feel very angry, to be 
 sure." 
 
 " Well, Jamie, when little boys go out into the woods 
 and fields which God has filled with beautiful trees and 
 flowers, and with hundreds of little happy birds, all so 
 curiously and beautifully made, and amuse themselves only 
 with throwing stones at them, and killing them, must not 
 God be displeased ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I should think he must," said Jamie. After 
 a few minutes, he added, " And it is a great deal worse to 
 kill little birds than it is to break looking-glasses and such 
 things, because little birds can/ee^, you know." 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 333 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, " and the care with which God 
 has made them shows how much he has thought about 
 them, and how careful he has been to do all he can to make 
 them happy. The Bible says, his tender mercies are over 
 all his works ; he is not merely good to everything, but he 
 is tender and careful in all he does, as a mother is tender 
 in taking care of a little helpless infant. Now," said 
 his mamma, " I am going to read you a little story." 
 
THE NEST IN THE OECHAED 
 
 IT was a bright and beautiful morning in April. The 
 snows had melted into the little brooks, and the little 
 brooks ran rattling and gurgling about among the green, 
 mossy stones. The violet had opened its fair blue eyes to 
 look forth from its tufts of leaves ; the broad blades of the 
 water-flag and the blue lily were shooting up fresh and 
 green ; the yellow dandelions spotted the grass, and tufts of 
 golden cowslips grew close by the water. The little leaves 
 had just begun to show themselves, and looked like a thin 
 green veil spread over the trees. The little birds had come 
 back a long way through the air from the various countries 
 where they had been spending the winter, arid were filling 
 the whole air with music. 
 
 On a mossy rail, a part of the orchard fence, sat two 
 beautiful bluebirds, enjoying the bright sunshine, and twit 
 tering and chattering to each other with all their might. 
 This very pair of birds, the last year, had made their nest 
 in this very orchard, and brought up a whole family of 
 little birds. All winter they had been chirping about and 
 enjoying themselves among the warm, sunny valleys of the 
 Bahama Isles ; and now they had come back again to go to 
 house-keeping in the old orchard. 
 
 Eight in the middle of this peaceful orchard was a spread 
 ing apple-tree, whose bending branches almost touched the 
 ground all around. The tall grass and clover grew up so 
 high under this tree as to mix with the leaves and fruit on 
 the end of these boughs, and underneath there was a de 
 licious cool little room roofed by the branches, where all 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD 335 
 
 summer long no creature had admission but the birds, and 
 the little flies, and the honey-bees for this tree stood in 
 the very middle of the orchard, and Farmer Brown kept good 
 watch that no boys should get into it to trample down the 
 long grass before mowing time. Well, in the trunk of this 
 old tree, just where the branches parted, was a snug little 
 hole. It was exactly big enough for a bird to build its nest 
 in, and it was so situated that any one standing under the 
 tree and looking up could not have thought of there being 
 any hole there. A safer little house for a bird could never 
 have been found ; and here these little birds had concluded 
 to build their nest. 
 
 So they set to work and picked out all the rubbish and 
 dry sticks that had fallen into the hole, and after they had 
 nicely cleaned it out, they laid the foundation of their little 
 house with small twigs, which they plastered firmly together 
 with mud ; then they picked up straw and hay for the next 
 layer, and wove them into a little round nest ; and after 
 that they flew all over the neighborhood to pick up any 
 stray feathers and soft bits of wool or moss that they could 
 find, to line the inside and make it soft and warm. 
 
 It took these bluebirds two or three days before their 
 nest was finished. But on the evening of the third day, 
 just as the long, bright beams of the setting sun were dart 
 ing between the apple-trees of the old orchard, the two 
 little birds might have been seen chirping and chatting 
 together over their finished nest, in the happiest manner in 
 the world. 
 
 " What a lucky thing it was, my dear," said the little 
 wife, " that you found such a snug hole ! I am sure nobody 
 will ever find us out here. We can fly all about under this 
 great tree, and nobody will ever see us or suspect what we 
 are doing." 
 
 "And, my dear," said the little husband, "I am de 
 lighted with your weaving here, in the inside of the house. 
 
336 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 How nicely you have worked in that little bit of red silk 
 on one side ! I had no idea, when the good woman swept 
 that piece out of doors, that you could make so much of it. 
 Then, how soft and warm the wool is ! Ah, very few blue 
 birds can make a handsomer nest than this." 
 
 " Yes," said the wife, " and there is almost a yard of lace 
 woven into it. I picked it off from a bush, where an old 
 lady had hung it on purpose for me." 
 
 When the old apple-tree began to put forth its pink buds, 
 after a few days five little blue eggs made their appearance 
 in the nest, and then the mother bird began to set ; while 
 her mate spent all his time either in flying about to look up 
 food for her, or perching about in different parts of the tree, 
 and entertaining her with his music. At length the buds 
 on the old tree opened, and it grew white with fragrant 
 blossoms, and five little downy birds were to be seen in the 
 nest. Nobody can say how delighted both parents were. 
 They carefully picked out all the broken bits of the eggs 
 from their nest, and then, while one would sit with wings 
 outspread to keep the little creatures warm, the other would 
 range about and get flies and worms to feed them. Little 
 birds are amazingly hungry ; and when either parent re 
 turned with food, you might have seen five little red mouths 
 gaping wide open, all ready to receive their portion. And 
 when their hunger was fully satisfied, the mother would 
 nestle over them with her warm feathers, and the father 
 bird would sit beside her, and they would admire the beau 
 tiful sheet of white blossoms over their heads, and have 
 long talks about their little family, and how soon they 
 would be learning to fly, and then what journeys they would 
 take with them, and what good times they would have. 
 
 One beautiful morning, while the dew-drops were yet 
 twinkling among the blossoms, the father bird prepared to 
 go on one of his journeys after food. He bade good morn 
 ing to his pretty family in a sweet song which he sung on 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD 337 
 
 the highest branch of the apple-tree, and then soared off 
 into the blue sky, as happy a bird as ever was seen. 
 
 Just at the same time a man with a large bag slung 
 over his shoulder, and a long gun in his hand, made his 
 appearance in the fields. Pretty soon he saw our bright 
 father bluebird, as he was sitting on the top of a tree with 
 a worm in his mouth, which he was just going to carry 
 home to his family. 
 
 So he drew up his gun and fired, and down fell the poor 
 little bluebird. The man walked to the spot and picked 
 him up the shot had gone through his head and he was 
 quite dead. 
 
 " What could he want to shoot the little birds for ? " 
 said Jamie. 
 
 " My dear boy, some people have an absurd way of think 
 ing that birds will injure the fruit ; and as there were one 
 or two ripe cherry-trees in this orchard, the man thought 
 they would get his cherries. It is a very foolish idea ; for 
 the birds, in fact, do more good by devouring the grubs 
 and insects that injure trees and plants, than all the harm 
 they can do by helping themselves now and then to a little 
 fruit." 
 
 Well, it came noon, and the mother bird remained in the 
 old apple-tree, still brooding and tending her little ones, 
 and wondering that their poor father did not return as he 
 had promised. Very soon the long shadows stretched to 
 the east, and showed that the afternoon was far spent ; and 
 still he did not return, and the mother bird wondered, and 
 the little birds began to call for their food. So the mother 
 left the little birds, and went to the top of the tree, and 
 began to call on her husband ; but she could not make him 
 hear. She fluttered around among the trees of the orchard, 
 looking for him, and calling him j but in vain. Then she 
 
338 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 picked up some food for her little ones, and returned home 
 weary and sad. The dark night came, but no kind father 
 returned. And in the morning there was no merry song in 
 the old tree, for the father was gone and the mother was 
 silent. But she took up the "burden of supporting her 
 family, and went flying about in the orchard picking up 
 food for her little ones as well as she was able. 
 
 While she was thus flying about one day, the same man, 
 with the gun on his shoulder, came spying about the old 
 orchard, for he had said that it was an excellent place to 
 shoot birds. Pretty soon he saw the poor mother picking 
 worms from a mossy rail, and pointed his gun at her. The 
 shot struck her wing and went into her side ; but still she 
 was not killed ; and all bleeding as she was, she thought she 
 would try to get home to her birdies once more. When she 
 came to the old apple-tree, her little strength was quite spent 
 her feathers were dripping with blood ; and when she had 
 put the food she had gathered into their mouths, she fell 
 down at the foot of the tree. She fluttered a few moments, 
 and then her soft little eyes closed, and the poor mother bird 
 was dead. 
 
 A great while after, when the old apple-tree was loaded 
 with bright yellow apples, the farmer s men mowed the grass 
 under the tree, and one of the boys thought he would go up 
 and shake off some apples. While he was climbing, he put 
 his hand into the hole and found our birds nest. 
 
 He drew it out, and there were five little dead birds in it ! 
 So much for shooting the pretty bluebirds ! 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD 
 
 "PAPA," said Edward Thompson to his father, "you 
 don t know what beautiful things James Robertson has, of 
 all kinds." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said little Robert, " when we were there 
 yesterday, he took us up into a little room that was all full 
 of playthings, just like a toy-shop." 
 
 " He had little guns, and two drums, and a trumpet, and 
 a fife," said Edward j " and one of the drums was a real one, 
 papa, such as men play on." 
 
 " And, papa, he had railroad cars, with a little railroad for 
 them to go on, and steam-engine, and all," said Robert. 
 
 " And a whole company of wooden soldiers," said Edward. 
 
 " And all sorts of blocks to build houses," said Robert. 
 
 " And besides, papa," said Edward, " he has a real live 
 pony to ride on ; such a funny little fellow you never saw ; 
 and he has such a pretty little riding-stick, and a splendid 
 saddle and bridle." 
 
 " Really," said their father, " you make out quite a list 
 of possessions." 
 
 " Oh, but, papa, we have not told you half ; he has a 
 beautiful flower-garden, and a gardener to cultivate it for 
 him, so that he don t have to take any trouble with it, and 
 he can do anything with the flowers he chooses." 
 
 "Oh, and, papa, he has rabbits and a beautiful gray 
 squirrel, with a cage fixed so nicely ; and the squirrel plays 
 so many droll tricks ; and he has a parrot that can talk, and 
 laugh, and call his name, and say a great many funny things." 
 
 " Well," said their father, " I suppose you think that 
 James is a very happy boy." 
 
340 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed, papa; how can he help being happy?" 
 said both boys. " Besides, his mamma, he says, lets him do 
 very much as he likes about everything." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said their father ; " and was he so very happy 
 all day when you were there ? " 
 
 " Why, no, not all day," said Edward ; " but then there 
 was a reason for it ; for in the morning we had planned to go 
 out to the lake to fish, and it rained, and it made James 
 feel rather cross, I suppose." 
 
 " But," said his father, " I should have thought, by your 
 account, that there were things enough in the house to have 
 amused you all." 
 
 " But James said he was so used to all those things that 
 he did not want to play with them," said Robert ; " he called 
 some of the prettiest things that he had * ugly old things/ 
 and said he hated the sight of them." 
 
 " Well," said their father, " I suspect, if the truth was 
 known, James is not so much to be envied after all. I have 
 been a week at a time at his father s house, and I have 
 thought that a more uncomfortable, unhappy-tempered little 
 fellow I never saw." 
 
 "Well, that is strange," said Edward; "I am sure I 
 would be happy if I was in his place." 
 
 " I am afraid you would not," said his father ; " for I be 
 lieve it is having so many things that makes him unhappy." 
 
 " Having so many things, papa ! " said both boys. 
 
 " Yes, my sons ; but I will explain this more to you 
 some other time. However, this afternoon, as you are go 
 ing to have a ride with me, I think I will take you over to 
 see a little boy who is a very happy boy, as I think," said 
 their father. 
 
 " I wonder if this can be the house ? " said Edward to 
 Robert, as the carriage stopped before a very small brown 
 house. 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD 341 
 
 Their father got out, and asked them to walk in with 
 him. It was a very little house, with only two rooms in it ; 
 and in the one they entered they saw a very pale, thin little 
 boy, lying on a small, low bed in front of the door. His 
 face was all worn away by disease, and his little hands, 
 which were folded on the outside of the bed, were so thin 
 one could almost see through them. He had a few play 
 things lying by him on the bed, and on a little stand near 
 him was a cracked brown mug, in which were some sweet 
 peas, and larkspurs, and lavender, and bright yellow mari 
 golds ; beside which lay a well-worn Bible and hymn-book. 
 His mother was ironing in the next room ; but when she 
 saw the boys and their father, she came forward to receive 
 them. 
 
 " Well, my little fellow," said Mr. Thompson, " how do 
 you do to-day ? " 
 
 " Oh, pretty comfortable," he said, cheerfully. 
 
 " I have brought my boys to see you," said Mr. Thomp 
 son. 
 
 The sick boy smiled, and reached out one of his thin 
 little hands to welcome them. Edward and Robert took his 
 hand, and then turned and looked anxiously at their father. 
 
 " Papa, how long has he been so sick ? " asked Robert. 
 
 " More than a year, young gentlemen," said his mother ; 
 " it *s a year since he has been able to sit up ; and it ; s four 
 months since he has been able to be turned at all in bed ; 
 he has to lie all the time, just as you see, on his back." 
 
 " Oh, what a long, long time ! " said Edward ; " why can t 
 you turn him, and let him lie on his side ? " 
 
 " Because it hurts him to lie on either side." 
 
 " What is the matter with him ? " asked Robert. 
 
 " Why, the doctor says it ? s a complaint of the bone ; it 
 began more than two years ago, down in his foot, and they 
 had to cut the foot off, in hopes that that would stop it ; but 
 it did n t ; and then they cut off the leg above the knee, 
 
342 OUR CHARLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 and that did n t stop it ; and it s creeping up, up, up, and 
 finally it will be the death of him. He suffers dreadfully 
 at nights ; sometimes no sleep at all for two or three 
 nights." 
 
 " Oh, father, how dreadful ! " said Edward, pressing close 
 to his father. 
 
 " Papa, 7 said Robert, looking up and whispering, " I 
 thought we were going to see a little boy that was very 
 happy." 
 
 " Wait a while," said Mr. Thompson, " and you will 
 see ; " and then he turned to the sick boy. 
 
 " My little fellow," said he, " you find it very tiresome 
 lying here so long." 
 
 " A little so," said the boy, smiling very pleasantly ; 
 " but then I have so many things to make me comfortable." 
 
 " What things ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have a knife, and I can whittle a little at a time, 
 and I have this little china dog that a lady gave me. I 
 play with that sometimes; and then, don t you see my 
 flowers ? " 
 
 The little boy pointed to a small bed of flowers just before 
 the door, where there were some pinks, and some larkspurs, 
 and marigolds, and sweet peas ; it was weeded very clean, 
 and the flowers made it bright enough. 
 
 " Mother planted all those flowers for me in the spring," 
 he said, " and she has watered and weeded them every night 
 after she has done her work ; they grow beautifully, and I 
 lie here every day and look at them. Sometimes, when the 
 rain is falling, or in the morning when the dew is on them, 
 they look so bright and fresh ! Mother puts some in the 
 mug to stand by me every day." 
 
 " But don t you suffer a great deal of pain ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I do ; but then, sir, I know that God would 
 not send it if it was not best for me, so I am willing to 
 bear it j besides, I know that the Lord Jesus Christ suffered 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD 343 
 
 more pain for me than I suffer. There are some beautiful 
 hymns about it in this book," he added, taking up his little 
 hymn-book ; " and then I have my Bible. Oh, I don t know 
 how I could get along if it were not for that." 
 
 " But are you never unhappy when you see other boys 
 jumping and playing about ? " 
 
 " No, I am not ; I know God knows what is best for me ; 
 besides, my Saviour comforts me. I love to lie here, when 
 it is all still, and I think about him." 
 
 " Don t you hope that sometime you will get well, and 
 be able to go about again ? " 
 
 " No, I know that I can t ; I shall not live a great while ; 
 they all say so." 
 
 " And don t you feel afraid to die ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; I feel as if I would be glad to. I long to see 
 my Saviour. All I feel sad about is, that mother will be 
 lonesome when I am gone." 
 
 " Well, my little boy, if there is anything that I can send 
 you to make you more comfortable, I shall be glad to." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, sir ; but I don t know as I want any 
 thing." 
 
 " I wish I could relieve your pains, my little fellow," 
 said Mr. Thompson. 
 
 " God would do it in a minute, if it was only best for 
 me," said the boy ; " and if it is not best, I had rather he 
 would not do it. Besides, I think I am happier now than 
 I used to be when I was well." 
 
 " Ah ! how can that be ? " 
 
 " I did not love God so much then, and I used to forget 
 to read my Bible. I had not so much pleasure in thinking 
 about heaven," said the little boy. 
 
 "You remember," said Mr. Thompson, "it says in the 
 Bible, l Before I was afflicted I went astray ; but now have 
 I kept thy word. " 
 
 " That is just it, sir," said the boy ; "just the way I feel. 
 Oh, I ve been very happy since I have been sick here." 
 
344 OUR CHAKLEY AND THE STORIES TOLD HIM 
 
 Edward and Robert looked at their father, at these words. 
 Mr. Thompson now rose to go. 
 
 " If you please, sir, perhaps the boys would like some of 
 my flowers ; there is a beautiful root of pinks there, and 
 some roses/ 7 said the sick boy. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Edward, " we won t take them away from 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, I like to give them away," said the boy, earnestly ; 
 "do take some." 
 
 " Take some, my dear children ; it will please him," said 
 Mr. Thompson, in a low voice, as he picked a few and gave 
 to each of the boys ; and then added aloud, " We will keep 
 them to remember you by, my dear little fellow." 
 
 As they parted with the little boy, he smiled sweetly, and 
 put out his hand, and added, 
 
 " If you 11 come when my latest rose-bush is in blossom, 
 I 11 give you some roses." 
 
 " Papa," said Edward, " that poor little boy really does 
 seem to be happy, and yet he is poor and sick and in pain ; 
 and he has very few things, too. It is strange ; he is cer 
 tainly a great deal happier than James Robertson." 
 
 "Well, I can tell you the reason," said his father. "It is 
 because James Robertson is a selfish boy that he is un 
 happy ; from morning till night he thinks of nothing but 
 how to please himself. His father and mother have spent 
 all their lives in contriving ways to please him, and have 
 never required him to give up his own will in anything ; 
 and now he is so selfish that he is always unhappy. He 
 does not love God, and he does not love his parents, nor 
 anything else, so well as he loves himself ; and such a boy 
 will always be unhappy. And the reason that this poor 
 little sick boy is happy, is because he has learned to love 
 God, his Saviour, better than anything else, and to find all 
 his pleasure in trying to do His will instead of his own. 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD 345 
 
 This is what makes him peaceful. If he did not love God, 
 and love to give up his will to Him, and to bear and suffer 
 whatever He thought best, how miserable he would be 
 now ! " 
 
 " He would be very fretful, I suppose," said Edward ; 
 " I m afraid I should be." 
 
 " Yes," said his father j " but now, when he has learned 
 to give up entirely to the will of his heavenly Father, see 
 how he seems to enjoy his flowers, and his hymn-book, 
 and his few little playthings. He enjoys them more than 
 James Eobertson enjoys all his elegant things. Now, my 
 dear boys, remember this : The way to be happy is to have 
 a right heart, and not to have everything given to us that 
 we want." 
 
LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 
 
 IT has become fashionable to write sketches of the lives 
 of really existing worthies, who are at present acting their 
 parts with more or less success on the stage of this mortal 
 life. Among them all there is none who, as we think, 
 exerts a more perceptible influence, makes more commotion, 
 more confusion, more comfort, more perplexity, more laugh 
 ing, and more crying than our sprightly, ingenious, omni 
 present, ever-active little friend, Captain Trott. 
 
 His title indicates that he is in a position of responsibil 
 ity and command. Nobody would infer this, from his 
 short body, his dumpy little hands, and his square, padding 
 little feet, his curly head, his ivory-fine complexion, and his 
 rather singular modes of treating the English language ; 
 yet, should the question be put at this moment by the elec 
 tric telegraph, to the million families of our land, " Who 
 governs and rules you ? " the reply would come back, as 
 with the voice of many waters, " Little Trott." Little 
 Trott has more influence at this hour in these United States 
 than General Grant himself ! 
 
 In giving a sketch of his personal appearance, we are em 
 barrassed by the remembrance of the overweening admira 
 tion he always contrives to excite in the breasts of the fem 
 inine part of creation. A million women, we do believe, at 
 this very hour, if we should draw his picture, would be 
 ready to tear our eyes out for the injustice done him. 
 That the picture of our little Trott, forsooth ? What is 
 the woman thinking of ? She does not know, she never 
 can know, she had no senses to perceive, half how beautiful 
 
LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 347 
 
 he is ! So say all the mothers ; and the grandmothers 
 douhle-say it, and are ready to shoot you if you doubt it ; 
 and the aunties and sisters reiterate it ; and even the papas 
 who, as heads of the women and lords of creation, are 
 supposed to take more sensible and impartial views of mat 
 ters and things go hook and line, bob and sinker into the 
 general current. The papas are, if anything, even sillier 
 and more beside themselves with admiration than the mam 
 mas. Trott is, in their eyes, a miracle of nature. They 
 gaze at him with round eyes of wonder ; they are really 
 ashamed of themselves for their inebriate state of admira 
 tion, and endeavor to draw over it a veil of reticent gravity ; 
 but it leaks out of every cranny, and oozes out of every 
 pore, that the man is, as our negro friends say, " done gone 
 over" in admiration of little Trott. His administration, 
 therefore, is a highly popular one, and we run some risk in 
 instituting anything like a criticism upon it. There is, of 
 course, as in all popular governments, an opposition party, 
 composed principally of older brothers and sisters, crabbed 
 old bachelors, and serious-minded maiden ladies, who feel it 
 their duty, with varying success, to keep up a protest against 
 Trott s proceedings, and to call on his besotted admirers to 
 be on their guard against his wiles, and even go so far as to 
 prophesy that, if not well looked after, he may one day ruin 
 the country. Under these circumstances, it is a delicate 
 matter to deliver our opinion of Trott, but we shall endeavor 
 to do it with impartial justice. We shall speak our honest 
 opinion of his accomplishments, his virtues, and his vices, 
 be the consequences what they may. 
 
 And first we think that nobody can refuse to Captain 
 Trott the award of industry and energy. 
 
 He is energy itself. He believes in early rising, and, 
 like all others who practice this severe virtue, is of opinion 
 that it is a sin for anybody to sleep after he is awake. 
 Therefore he commences to whistle and crow, and pick open 
 
348 LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 
 
 the eyes of papa and mamma with his fat fingers, long "be 
 fore " Aurora crimsons the east/ as the poet says. For 
 those hapless sinners who love the dear iniquity of morning 
 naps Trott has no more mercy than a modern reformer ; 
 and, like a modern reformer, he makes no exceptions for 
 circumstances. If he is wide-awake and refreshed, it makes 
 no difference to him that mamma was up half a dozen 
 times the night before to warm his milk and perform other 
 handmaid offices for his lordship ; or that papa was late at 
 his office, and did not get asleep till twelve o clock. Up 
 they must get ; laziness is not to be indulged ; morning 
 naps are an abomination to his soul ; and he wants his 
 breakfast at the quickest conceivable moment, that he may 
 enter on the duty of the day. 
 
 This duty may be briefly defined as the process of culti 
 vating the heavenly virtue of patience in the mind of his 
 mother and of the family and the community generally. 
 He commences the serious avocations of the day after a 
 shower of kisses, adorned by fleeting dimples and sparkling 
 glances. While mamma is hastily dressing, he slyly upsets 
 the wash-pitcher on the carpet, and sits a pleased spectator 
 of the instant running and fussing which is the result. If 
 there is a box of charcoal tooth-powder within reach, 
 he now contrives to force that open and scatter its contents 
 over his nightgown and the carpet, thus still further increas 
 ing the confusion. If he is scolded, he immediately falls 
 on his mother s neck, and smothers her with sooty kisses. 
 While taking his bath, he insists on sucking the sponge, 
 and splashing the water all over his mother s neat morning- 
 wrapper. If this process is stopped, he shows the strength 
 of his lungs in violent protests, which so alarm the poor 
 woman for the character of the family, that she is forced to 
 compromise with him by letting him have a bright pincush 
 ion, or her darling gold watch, or some other generally for 
 bidden object to console him. This, of course, he splashes 
 
LITTLE CAPTAIN TKOTT 349 
 
 into the water forthwith, and fights her if she attempts to 
 take it away ; for Trott is a genuine red republican in the 
 doctrine of his own right to have his own way. Then he 
 follows her up through the day, knowing exactly when and 
 where to put himself in her way, in fulfilment of his import 
 ant mission of perfecting her in patience. If she be going 
 up-stairs with baby in her arms, Trott catches her about the 
 knees, or hangs on to her gown behind, with most persistent 
 affection. 
 
 In the kitchen, if she be superintending verdant Erin in 
 the preparation of some mysterious dish, Trott must be 
 there, and Trott must help. With infinite fussing and tip 
 toe efforts, he pulls over on his head a pan of syrup, and 
 the consequences of this movement all our female friends 
 see without words. 
 
 Is there company to dinner, and no dessert, and stupid 
 Biddy utterly unable to compass the difficulties of a boiled 
 custard, then mamma is to the fore, and Trott also. Just 
 at the critical moment, the moment of projection, a 
 loud scream from Trott announces that he has fallen head 
 first into the rain-water butt ! The custard is spoiled, but 
 the precious darling Trott is saved, and wiped up, and comes 
 out, fresh and glowing, to proclaim to his delighted admirers 
 that he still lives. 
 
 Thus much on Trott s energy and industry, but who shall 
 describe the boundless versatility of his genius ? Versatility 
 is Trott s forte. In one single day he will bring to pass a 
 greater variety of operations than are even thought of in 
 Congress, much as they may do there, and he is so 
 persevering and industrious about it ! 
 
 He has been known, while mamma is busy over some 
 bit of fine work at her sewing-machine, to pad into the pan 
 try and contrive machinery for escalading the flour-barrel, 
 which has enabled him at last to plump himself fairly into 
 the soft, downy interior, which he can now throw up over 
 
350 LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 
 
 his head in chuckling transport, powdering his curls till he 
 looks like a cherub upon a Louis Quatorze china teacup. 
 Taken out, while his mother is looking for fresh clothes in 
 the drawer, he hastens to plunge his head into the washbowl 
 to clean it. He besets pussy, who runs at the very sight of 
 him. He has often tried to perform surgical operations on 
 her eyes with mamma s scissors ; but pussy, having no soul 
 to save, has no interest in being made perfect through suf 
 fering, and therefore gives him a wide berth. Nevertheless, 
 Trott sometimes catches her asleep, and once put her head 
 downward into a large stone water-jar, before she had really 
 got enough awake to comprehend the situation. Her tail, 
 convulsively waving as a signal of distress, alone called 
 attention to the case, and deprived her of the honor of an 
 obituary notice. But, mind you, had pussy died, what 
 mamma and grandma and auntie would not have taken 
 Trott s part against all the pussies in the world ? " Poor 
 little fellow ! he must do something ; " and " After all, the 
 cat was n t much of a mouser ; served her right ; and was n t 
 it cunning of him ? " And, my dear friend, if Trott some 
 day, when you are snoozing after dinner, should take a 
 fancy to serve you as Jael did Sisera, your fate would 
 scarcely excite any other comment. The " poor dear little 
 fellow " would still be the hero of the house, and you the 
 sinner, who had no business to put yourself in his way. 
 This last sentence was interpolated here by my crabbed 
 bachelor uncle, Mr. Herod Killchild, who cannot, of course, 
 be considered as dispassionate authority. In fact, an open 
 feud rages between Uncle Herod and Trott ; and he only 
 holds his position in the family circle because the women 
 folks are quick-witted enough to perceive that, after all, he 
 is in his heart as silly about Trott as any of them. He has 
 more than once been detected watching the little captain s 
 antics over the top of his newspaper, and slyly snickering 
 to himself as he followed his operations while at the same 
 
LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 351 
 
 moment his mouth was ostensibly full of cursing and bitter 
 ness. Once, when Trott was very, very sick indeed, Uncle 
 Herod lost his rest nights, he declared it was only indi 
 gestion ; his eyes watered, he declared that it was only a 
 severe cold. But all these symptoms marvelously disap 
 peared when Trott, as his manner is, suddenly got well and 
 came out good as new, and tenfold more busy and noisy 
 than ever. Then Uncle Herod remarked dryly that " he 
 had hoped to be rid of that torment/ and mamma laughed. 
 Who minds Uncle Herod ? 
 
 We have spoken of Trott s industry, energy, and ver 
 satility ; we must speak also of his perseverance. This is 
 undeniably a great virtue, as all my readers who have ever 
 written in old-fashioned copy-books will remember. Trott s 
 persistence and determination to carry his points and have 
 his own way are traits that must excite the respect of the 
 beholder. 
 
 When he has a point to carry, it must be a wise mamma, 
 and a still wiser papa, that can withstand him, for his ways 
 and wiles are past finding out. He tries all means and 
 measures, kissing, cajoling, coaxing; and, these proving 
 ineffectual, storming, crying, threatening, fighting fate with 
 both of his chubby fists, and squaring off at the powers 
 that be with a valor worthy of a soldier. 
 
 There are the best hopes of the little captain, if he keeps 
 up equal courage and vigor, some future day, when he shall 
 lead the armies of the republic. 
 
 If, however, Trott is routed, as sometimes occurs, it is to 
 be said to his credit that he displays great magnanimity. 
 He will come up and kiss and be friends, after a severe 
 skirmish with papa, and own himself beaten in the hand 
 somest manner. 
 
 But, like a true, cunning politician, when beaten, he does 
 not give up. There is many a reserved wile under his 
 mat of curls yet, and he still meditates some future victory ; 
 
352 LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 
 
 and, sooth to say, after a running fire of some weeks, 
 Trott often carries his point, and establishes his right to 
 take certain household liberties, in spite of the protest of 
 the whole family republic. 
 
 " Well, what can you do with him ? we can t be fighting 
 him always," are the usual terms which announce the sur 
 render. 
 
 And did not our Congress do about the same thing with 
 President Johnson ? The fact is, when you ve got a chief 
 magistrate, you can t fight him all the time, and Trott is 
 the chief magistrate of the family state. 
 
 The opposition party in the government, consisting al 
 ways of people who never had or are like to have Trotts of 
 their own to take care of, are always largely blaming those 
 who submit to him. They insist upon it that minute 
 rules should be made, and Trott made to understand what 
 is meant by the reign of law. 
 
 Law ? We would like to see the code that could com 
 pass and forbid Trott s unheard-of inventions. He always 
 surprises you by doing just the thing you never could have 
 conceived of, and through it all his intentions are so excel 
 lent ! He sees mamma rubbing her head with hair-oil, 
 and forthwith dips his hand in a varnish-pot and rubs his 
 own mat of curls. He sees Biddy squeeze bluing into the 
 rinsing-water, and, watching his opportunity, throws the 
 bluing-bag into the soup-kettle. You have oil paints put 
 away in a deep recess in the closet. Of course he goes 
 straight to them, squeezes all the tubes together, and makes 
 a pigment with which he anoints his face and hands and 
 the carpet, giving an entirely new view of a work of art. 
 " Who would have thought, now, that he could have ? " 
 etc., is the usual refrain after these occurrences. 
 
 The maxim that " silence is golden " does not apply to 
 Trott. Much as his noise may make mamma s head ache, 
 it is nothing to the fearful apprehensions excited by his 
 
LITTLE CAPTAIN TEOTT 353 
 
 silence. If Trott is still ten minutes, or even five, look 
 out for a catastrophe. He may be tasting bug-poison, or 
 clawing the canary-bird out of the cage, or practicing writ 
 ing on papa s last Art Union, or eating a whole box of 
 pills, or picking mamma s calla bud, or, taken with a sud 
 den fit of household usefulness, be washing the front of 
 the bureau drawer with a ten-dollar bill which he has 
 picked out of it ! 
 
 Sleep is usually considered a gracious state for Trott, 
 but he has too intense a sense of his responsibility to lose 
 much time in this way, especially if mamma is to have 
 company to dinner, or has any very perplexing and trying 
 bit of household work to do. Under these circumstances 
 Trott never can sleep. He is intensely interested ; he 
 cannot let her go a moment. 
 
 There have been as many books written as there are 
 stars in the skies concerning the vexed question of Trott s 
 government, and concerning the constitutional limits of his 
 rights and those of the older and bigger world. 
 
 And still that subject seems to be involved in mystery. 
 Some few points only are clear, Trott must not be al 
 lowed to make a bonfire of the paternal mansion, or stick 
 the scissors in his mother s eyes, or cut his own throat 
 with his father s razor. Short of this " the constitutional 
 limits," as we say, are very undefined. And if you under 
 take to restrict him much, you will have all the fathers 
 and mothers in the land on your back, who with one voice 
 insist that, though Trott may have his faults, like all 
 things human, yet he is a jolly little fellow, and they 
 prefer, on the whole, to let him do just about as he does 
 do, and don t want any advice on that subject. 
 
 Of course, his administration bears hard on the minority, 
 and it is sometimes a question whether anybody else in the 
 house has any rights which Trott is bound to respect. So 
 much the worse for the minority. We should like to 
 know what they are going to do about it ? 
 
354 LITTLE CAPTAIN TROTT 
 
 There is one comfort in this view of the subject. All 
 the wonderful men of the world have been Trotts in their 
 day ; have badgered and tormented their mammas till 
 they trained them up into a meetness for Heaven, and then 
 have come, in their turn, to be governed by other Trotts, 
 for in this kingdom the king never dies, or, rather, to 
 put it in a modern form, in this republic there is always a 
 president. 
 
 Well, after all, our hearts are very soft towards the little 
 deluding Captain. The very thought that the house might 
 some day be without his mischief and merriment and the 
 patter of his little stubbed feet, causes us a hard lump in 
 our throats at once. No noise of misrule and merriment, 
 however deafening, where Trott reigns triumphant, can be 
 so dreadful as the silence in the house where he once has 
 been, but is to be no more. 
 
 " The mother in the sunshine sits 
 Beside the cottage wall, 
 And, slowly, slowly as she knits, 
 Her quiet tears down fall. 
 Her little hindering thing is gone, 
 And undisturbed she may knit on." 
 
 When we think of those short little mounds in Green 
 wood and Mount Auburn, we go in for patient submission 
 to Trott with all his faults, rather than the dismalness of 
 being without him. His hold is on our heart-strings, and 
 reign over us he must. 
 
 We are reminded, too, how, years and years ago, the 
 Dearest, Wisest, and Greatest that ever lived on earth took 
 little Trott on his knee, and said, "Whosoever shall re 
 ceive one of such children, in my name, receiveth me " ; 
 " for of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Trott was doubtless as full of motion and mischief in 
 those days as in these ; but the Divine eyes saw through it 
 all, into that great mystery making little Trott the father 
 of whatever is great and good in the future. 
 
CHKISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 " Oh, DEAR ! Christmas is coming in a fortnight, and I 
 have got to think up presents for everybody ! " said young 
 Ellen Stuart, as she leaned languidly back in her chair. 
 " Dear me, it s so tedious ! Everybody has got everything 
 that can be thought of." 
 
 " Oh, no," said her confidential adviser, Miss Lester, in 
 a soothing tone. " You have means of buying everything 
 you can fancy ; and when every shop and store is glittering 
 with all manner of splendors, you cannot surely be at a loss." 
 
 " Well, now, just listen. To begin with, there s 
 mamma. What can I get for her ? I have thought of 
 ever so many things. She has three card cases, four gold 
 thimbles, two or three gold chains, two writing desks of 
 different patterns ; and then as to rings, brooches, boxes, 
 and all other things, I should think she might be sick of 
 the sight of them. I am sure I am," said she, languidly 
 gazing on her white and jeweled fingers. 
 
 This view of the case seemed rather puzzling to the ad 
 viser, and there was silence for a few minutes, when Ellen, 
 yawning, resumed : 
 
 " And then there s cousins Jane and Mary ; I suppose 
 they will be coming down on me with a whole load of pres 
 ents ; and Mrs. B. will send me something she did last 
 year ; and then there s cousins William and Tom I 
 must get them something ; and I would like to do it well 
 enough, if I only knew what to get." 
 
 " Well," said Eleanor s aunt, who had been sitting quietly 
 rattling her knitting needles during this speech, " it s a 
 
356 CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 pity that you had not such a subject to practice on as I was 
 when I was a girl. Presents did not fly about in those 
 days as they do now. I remember, when I was ten years 
 old, my father gave me a most marvelously ugly sugar dog 
 for a Christmas gift, and I was perfectly delighted with it, 
 the very idea of a present was so new to us. 7 
 
 " Dear aunt, how delighted I should be if I had any such 
 fresh, unsophisticated body to get presents for ! But to get 
 and get for people that have more than they know what to 
 do with now ; to add pictures, books, and gilding when the 
 centre tables are loaded with them now, and rings and jew 
 els when they are a perfect drug ! I wish myself that I 
 were not sick, and sated, and tired with having everything 
 in the world given me." 
 
 " Well, Eleanor," said her aunt, " if you really do want 
 unsophisticated subjects to practice on, I can put you in the 
 way of it. I can show you more than one family to whom 
 you might seem to be a very good fairy, and where such 
 gifts as you could give with all ease would seem like a 
 magic dream." 
 
 " Why, that would really be worth while, aunt." 
 
 " Look over in that back alley," said her aunt. " You 
 see those buildings ? " 
 
 " That miserable row of shanties ? Yes." 
 
 " Well, I have several acquaintances there who have 
 never been tired of Christmas gifts or gifts of any other 
 kind. I assure you, you could make quite a sensation over 
 there." 
 
 " Well, who is there ? Let us know." 
 
 "Do you remember Owen, that used to make your 
 shoes ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember something about him." 
 
 "Well, he has fallen into a consumption, and cannot 
 work any more ; and he, and his wife, and three little chil 
 dren live in one of the rooms." 
 
CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 357 
 
 " How do they get along ? " 
 
 " His wife takes in sewing sometimes, and sometimes 
 goes out washing. Poor Owen ! I was over there yester 
 day ; he looks thin and wasted, and his wife was saying 
 that he was parched with constant fever, and had very little 
 appetite. She had, with great self-denial, and by restrict 
 ing herself almost of necessary food, got him two or three 
 oranges ; and the poor fellow seemed so eager after them." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Eleanor, involuntarily. 
 
 " Now, 7 said her aunt, " suppose Owen s wife should 
 get up on Christmas morning and find at the door a couple 
 of dozen of oranges, and some of those nice white grapes, 
 such as you had at your party last week ; don t you think 
 it would make a sensation ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I think very likely it might ; but who else, 
 aunt ? You spoke of a great many." 
 
 " Well, on the lower floor there is a neat little room, 
 that is always kept perfectly trim and tidy ; it belongs to a 
 young couple who have nothing beyond the husband s day 
 wages to live on. They are, nevertheless, as cheerful and 
 chipper as a couple of wrens ; and she is up and down half 
 a dozen times a day, to help poor Mrs. Owen. She has a 
 baby of her own about five months old, and of course does 
 all the cooking, washing, and ironing for herself and hus 
 band ; and yet, when Mrs. Owen goes out to wash, she takes 
 her baby, and keeps it whole days for her." 
 
 "I m sure she deserves that the good fairies should 
 smile on her," said Eleanor ; " one baby exhausts my stock 
 of virtues very rapidly." 
 
 " But you ought to see her baby," said Aunt E. ; " so 
 plump, so rosy, and good-natured, and always clean as a 
 lily. This baby is a sort of household shrine ; nothing is 
 too sacred or too good for it ; and I believe the little thrifty 
 woman feels only one temptation to be extravagant, and 
 that is to get some ornaments to adorn this little divinity." 
 
358 CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 " Why, did she ever tell you so ? " 
 
 " No ; but one day, when I was coming down stairs, the 
 door of their room was partly open, and I saw a peddler 
 there with open box. John, the husband, was standing 
 with a little purple cap on his hand, which he was regard 
 ing with mystified, admiring air, as if he did n t quite com 
 prehend it, and trim little Mary gazing at it with longing 
 eyes. 
 
 " 1 1 think we might get it/ said John. 
 
 " Oh, no/ said she, regretfully ; yet I wish we could, 
 it s so pretty ! " 
 
 " Say no more, aunt. I see the good fairy must pop a 
 cap into the window on Christinas morning. Indeed, it 
 shall be done. How they will wonder where it came from, 
 and talk about it for months to come ! " 
 
 " Well, then," continued her aunt, " in the next street 
 to ours there is a miserable building, that looks as if it were 
 just going to topple over ; and away up in the third story, 
 in a little room just under the eaves, live two poor, lonely 
 old women. They are both nearly on to ninety. I was in 
 there day before yesterday. One of them is constantly con 
 fined to her bed with rheumatism ; the other, weak and 
 feeble, with failing sight and trembling hands, totters about, 
 her only helper ; and they are entirely dependent on 
 charity." 
 
 " Can t they do anything ? Can t they knit ? " said 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " You are young and strong, Eleanor, and have quick 
 eyes and nimble fingers ; how long would it take you to 
 knit a pair of stockings ? " 
 
 "I ? " said Eleanor. " What an idea ! I never tried, 
 but I think I could get a pair done in a week, perhaps." 
 
 " And if somebody gave you twenty-five cents for them, 
 and out of this you had to get food, and pay room rent, and 
 buy coal for your fire, and oil for your lamp " 
 
CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 359 
 
 " Stop, aunt, for pity s sake ! " 
 
 " Well, 1 will stop ; but they can t : they must pay so 
 much every month for that miserable shell they live in, or 
 be turned into the street. The meal and flour that some 
 kind person sends goes off for them just as it does for 
 others, and they must get more or starve ; and coal is now 
 scarce and high priced." 
 
 " aunt, I m quite convinced, I ? m sure ; don t run me 
 down and annihilate me with all these terrible realities. 
 What shall I do to play good fairy to these old women ? " 
 
 " If you will give me full power, Eleanor, I will put up 
 a basket to be sent to them that will give them, something 
 to remember all winter." 
 
 " Oh, certainly I will. Let me see if I can t think of 
 something myself." 
 
 " Well, Eleanor, suppose, then, some fifty or sixty years 
 hence, if you were old, and your father, and mother, and 
 aunts, and uncles, now so thick around you, lay cold and 
 silent in so many graves you have somehow got away off 
 to a strange city, where you were never known you live 
 in a miserable garret, where snow blows at night through 
 the cracks, and the fire is very apt to go out in the old 
 cracked stove you sit crouching over the dying embers 
 the evening before Christmas nobody to speak to you, 
 nobody to care for you, except another poor old soul who 
 lies moaning in the bed. Now, what would you like to 
 have sent you ? " 
 
 " aunt, what a dismal picture ! " 
 
 " And yet, Ella, all poor, forsaken old women are made 
 of young girls, who expected it in their youth as little as 
 you do, perhaps." 
 
 " Say no more, aunt. I 11 buy let me see a com 
 fortable warm shawl for each of these poor women ; and 
 I ll send them let me see oh, some tea nothing 
 goes down with old women like tea ; and I 11 make John 
 
360 CHRISTMAS; OK, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 wheel some coal over to them ; and,, aunt, it would not be 
 a very bad thought to send them a new stove. I remem 
 ber, the other day, when mamma was pricing stoves, I saw 
 some such nice ones for two or three dollars." 
 
 " For a new hand, Ella, you work up the idea very 
 well," said her aunt. 
 
 " But how much ought I to give, for any one case, to 
 these women, say ? " 
 
 " How much did you give last year for any single Christ 
 mas present ? " 
 
 " Why, six or seven dollars for some ; those elegant sou 
 venirs were seven dollars; that ring I gave Mrs. B. was 
 twenty." 
 
 " And do you suppose Mrs. B. was any happier for it ? " 
 
 " No, really, I don t think she cared much about it ; but 
 I had to give her something, because she had sent me 
 something the year before, and I did not want to send a 
 paltry present to one in her circumstances." 
 
 " Then, Ella, give the same to any poor, distressed, suf 
 fering creature who really needs it, and see in how many 
 forms of good such a sum will appear. That one hard, 
 cold, glittering ring, that now cheers nobody, and means 
 nothing, that you give because you must, and she takes 
 because she must, might, if broken up into smaller sums, 
 send real warm and heartfelt gladness through many a cold 
 and cheerless dwelling, through many an aching heart." 
 
 " You are getting to be an orator, aunt ; but don t you 
 approve of Christmas presents, among friends and equals ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said her aunt, fondly stroking her head. 
 " I have had some Christmas presents that did me a world 
 of good a little book mark, for instance, that a certain 
 niece of mine worked for me, with wonderful secrecy, three 
 years ago, when she was not a young lady with a purse full 
 of money that book mark was a true Christmas present ; 
 and my young couple across the way are plotting a profound 
 
CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 361 
 
 surprise to each other on Christmas morning. John has 
 contrived, by an hour of extra work every night, to lay by 
 enough to get Mary a new calico dress ; and she, poor soul, 
 has bargained away the only thing in the jewelry line she 
 ever possessed, to be laid out on a new hat for him. 
 
 " I know, too, a washerwoman who has a poor lame boy 
 
 a patient, gentle little fellow who has lain quietly for 
 weeks and months in his little crib, and his mother is going 
 to give him a splendid Christmas present." 
 
 " What is it, pray ? " 
 
 " A whole orange ! Don t laugh. She will pay ten 
 whole cents for it ; for it shall be none of your common 
 oranges, but a picked one of the very best going ! She has 
 put by the money, a cent at a time, for a whole month ; 
 and nobody knows which will be happiest in it, Willie or 
 his mother. These are such Christmas presents as I like 
 to think of gifts coming from love, and tending to pro 
 duce love ; these are the appropriate gifts of the day." 
 
 " But don t you think that it s right for those who have 
 money to give expensive presents, supposing always, as you 
 say, they are given from real affection ? " 
 
 " Sometimes, undoubtedly. The Saviour did not condemn 
 her who broke an alabaster box of ointment very precious 
 
 simply as a proof of love, even although the suggestion 
 was made, i This might have been sold for three hundred 
 pence, and given to the poor. I have thought he would 
 regard with sympathy the fond efforts which human love 
 sometimes makes to express itself by gifts, the rarest and 
 most costly. How I rejoiced with all my heart, when 
 Charles Elton gave his poor mother that splendid Chinese 
 shawl and gold watch ! because I knew they came from the 
 very fulness of his heart to a mother that he could not do 
 too much for a mother that has done and suffered every 
 thing for him. In some such cases, when resources are 
 ample, a costly gift seems to have a graceful appropriateness ; 
 
362 CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 but I cannot approve of it if it exhausts all the means of 
 doing for the poor ; it is better, then, to give a simple 
 offering, and to do something for those who really need it." 
 
 Eleanor looked thoughtful ; her aunt laid down her 
 knitting, and said, in a tone of gentle seriousness, " Whose 
 birth does Christmas commemorate, Ella ? " 
 
 " Our Saviour s, certainly, aunt." 
 
 " Yes," said her aunt. " And when and how was he 
 born ? In a stable ! laid in a manger ; thus born, that in 
 all ages he might be known as the brother and friend of the 
 poor. And surely, it seems but appropriate to commemo 
 rate his birthday by an especial remembrance of the lowly, 
 the poor, the outcast, and distressed ; and if Christ should 
 come back to our city on a Christmas day, where should we 
 think it most appropriate to his character to find him ? 
 Would he be carrying splendid gifts to splendid dwellings, 
 or would he be gliding about in the cheerless haunts of the 
 desolate, the poor, the forsaken, and the sorrowful ? " 
 
 And here the conversation ended. 
 
 " What sort of Christmas presents is Ella buying ? " 
 said Cousin Tom, as the waiter handed in a portentous- 
 looking package, which had been just rung in at the door. 
 
 "Let s open it," said saucy Will. "Upon my word, 
 two great gray blanket shawls ! These must be for you 
 and me, Tom ! And what s this ? A great bolt of cotton 
 flannel and gray yarn stockings ! " 
 
 The door bell rang again, and the waiter brought in an 
 other bulky parcel, and deposited it on the marble-topped 
 centre table. 
 
 " What >s here ? " said Will, cutting the cord. " Whew ! 
 a perfect nest of packages ! oolong tea ! oranges ! grapes ! 
 white sugar ! Bless me, Ella must be going to house 
 keeping ! " 
 
 " Or going crazy ! " said Tom ; " and on my word," said 
 
CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 363 
 
 he, looking out of the window, " there s a drayman ringing 
 at our door, with a stove, with a teakettle set in the top 
 of it ! " 
 
 " Ella s cook stove, of course," said Will ; and just at 
 this moment the young lady entered, with her purse hang 
 ing gracefully over her hand. 
 
 " Now, boys, you are too bad ! " she exclaimed, as each of 
 the mischievous youngsters was gravely marching up and 
 down, attired in a gray shawl. 
 
 " Did n t you get them for us ? We thought you did," 
 said both. 
 
 " Ella, I want some of that cotton flannel, to make me a 
 pair of pantaloons," said Tom. 
 
 " I say, Ella," said Will, " when are you going to house 
 keeping ? Your cooking stove is standing down in the 
 street ; pon my word, John is loading some coal on the 
 dray with it." 
 
 " Ella, is n t that going to be sent to my office ? " said 
 Tom ; " do you know I do so languish for a new stove with 
 a teakettle in the top, to heat a fellow s shaving- water ! " 
 
 Just then, another ring at the door, and the grinning 
 waiter handed in a small brown paper parcel for Miss Ella. 
 Tom made a dive at it, and staving off the brown paper, 
 developed a jaunty little purple velvet cap, with silver tassels. 
 
 " My smoking cap, as I live ! " said he ; " only I shall 
 have to wear it on my thumb, instead of my head too 
 small entirely," said he, shaking his head gravely. 
 
 " Come, you saucy boys," said Aunt E., entering briskly. 
 " what are you teasing Ella for ? " 
 
 "Why, do see this lot of things, aunt! What in the 
 world is Ella going to do with them ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know ! " 
 
 " You know ! Then I can guess, aunt, it is some of your 
 charitable works. You are going to make a juvenile Lady 
 Bountiful of El, eh ? " 
 
364 CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY 
 
 Ella, who had colored to the roots of her hair at the expose 
 of her very unfashionable Christmas preparations, now took 
 heart, and bestowed a very gentle and salutary little cuff on 
 the saucy head that still wore the purple cap, and then has 
 tened to gather up her various purchases. 
 
 " Laugh away," said she, gayly ; " and a good many others 
 will laugh, too, over these things. I got them to make 
 people laugh people that are not in the habit of laugh- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Well, well, I see into it," said Will ; " and I tell you I 
 think right well of the idea, too. There are worlds of money 
 wasted, at this time of the year, in getting things that nobody 
 wants, and nobody cares for after they are got ; and I am 
 glad, for my part, that you are going to get up a variety in 
 this line ; in fact, I should like to give you one of these stray 
 leaves to help on," said he, dropping a ten dollar note into 
 her paper. " I like to encourage girls to think of something 
 besides breastpins and sugar candy." 
 
 But our story spins on too long. If anybody wants to 
 see the results of Ella s first attempts at good fairyism, they 
 can call at the doors of two or three old buildings on Christ 
 mas morning, and they shall hear all about it. 
 
LITTLE FEED, THE CANAL BOY 
 PABT I 
 
 IN the outskirts of Mie little town of Toledo, in Ohio, 
 might be seen a small, one-story cottage, whose external 
 architecture in no way distinguished it from dozens of other 
 residences of the poor, by which it was surrounded. But 
 over this dwelling, a presiding air of sanctity and neatness, 
 of quiet and repose, marked it out as different from every 
 other. 
 
 The little patch before the door, instead of being a loaf 
 ing ground for swine, and a receptacle of litter and filth, 
 was trimly set with flowers, weeded, watered, and fenced 
 with dainty care. The scarlet bignonia clambered over the 
 mouldering logs of the sides, shrouding their roughness in 
 its gorgeous mantle of green and crimson, and the good old- 
 fashioned morning glory, laced across the window, unfolded 
 every day tints whose beauty, though cheap and common, 
 the finest French milliner might in vain seek to rival. 
 
 When, in traveling the western country, you meet such 
 a dwelling, do you not instinctively know what you shall 
 see inside of it ? Do you not seem to see the trimly- 
 sanded floor, the well-kept furniture, the snowy muslin 
 curtain ? Are you not sure that on a neat stand you shall 
 see, as on an altar, the dear old family Bible, brought, like 
 the ancient ark of the covenant, into the far wilderness, and 
 ever overshadowed, as a bright cloud, with remembered 
 prayers and counsels of father and mother, in a far-off New 
 England home ? 
 
366 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 And in this cottage there was such a Bible, brought from 
 the wild hills of New Hampshire, and its middle page re 
 corded the marriage of James Sandford to Mary Irving ; 
 and alas ! after it another record, traced in a trembling 
 hand the death of James Sandford, at Toledo. And 
 this fair, thin woman, in the black dress, with soft brown 
 hair parted over a pale forehead, with calm, patient blue 
 eyes, and fading cheek, is the once energetic, buoyant, 
 light-hearted New Hampshire girl, who has brought with 
 her the strongest religious faith, the active practical know 
 ledge, the skillful, well-trained hand and head, with which 
 cold New England portions her daughters. She had left 
 all, and come to the western wilds with no other capital 
 than her husband s manly heart and active brain he 
 young, strong, full of hope, prompt, energetic, and skilled 
 to acquire she careful, prudent, steady, no less skilled 
 to save ; and between the two no better firm for acquisition 
 and prospective success could be desired. Everybody pro 
 phesied that James Sandford would succeed, and Mary 
 heard these praises with a quiet exultation. But alas ! 
 that whole capital of hers that one strong, young heart, 
 that ready, helpful hand two weeks of the country s fe 
 ver sufficed to lay them cold and low forever. 
 
 And Mary yet lived, with her babe in her arms, and one 
 bright little boy by her side ; and this boy is our little 
 brown-eyed Fred the hero of our story. But few years 
 had rolled over his curly head, when he first looked, weep 
 ing and wondering, on the face of death. Ah, one look on 
 that awful face adds years at once to the age of the heart ; 
 and little Fred felt manly thoughts aroused in him by the 
 cold stillness of his father, and the deep, calm anguish of 
 his mother. 
 
 " mamma, don t cry so, don t," said the little fellow. 
 " I am alive, and I can take care of you. Dear mamma, I 
 pray for you every day." And Mary was comforted even 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 367 
 
 in her tears and thought, as she looked into those clear, 
 loving brown eyes, that her little intercessor would not 
 plead in vain ; for saith Jesus, " Their angels do always 
 behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." 
 
 In a few days she learned to look her sorrows calmly in 
 the face, like a brave, true woman, as she was. She was a 
 widow, and out of the sudden wreck of her husband s plans 
 but a pittance remained to her, and she cast about, with 
 busy hand and head, for some means to eke it out. She 
 took in sewing she took in washing and ironing ; and 
 happy did the young exquisite deem himself whose shirts 
 came with such faultless plaits, such snowy freshness, from 
 the slender hands of Mary. With that matchless gift 
 which old Yankee housewives call faculty, Mary kept to 
 gether all the ends of her raveled skein of life, and began 
 to make them wind smoothly. Her baby was the neatest 
 of all babies, as it was assuredly the prettiest, and her little 
 Fred the handiest and most universal genius of all boys. 
 It was Fred that could wring out all the stockings, and 
 hang out all the small clothes, that tended the baby by 
 night and by day, that made her a wagon out of an old 
 soap box, in which he drew her in triumph ; and at their 
 meals he stood reverently in his father s place, and with 
 folded hands repeated, "Bless the Lord, my soul, and 
 forget not all his mercies ; " and his mother s heart re 
 sponded amen to the simple prayer. Then he learned, 
 with manifold puffing and much haggling, to saw wood 
 quite decently, and to swing an axe almost as big as himself 
 in wood splitting ; and he ran of errands, and did business 
 with an air of bustling importance that was edifying to see ; 
 he knew the prices of lard, butter, and dried apples, as well 
 as any man about, and, as the storekeeper approvingly told 
 him, was a smart chap at a bargain. Fred grew three inches 
 higher the moment he heard it. 
 
 In the evenings, after the baby was asleep, Fred sat by 
 
368 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 his mother with slate and book, deep in the mysteries of 
 reading, writing, and ciphering ; and then the mother and 
 son talked over their little plans, and hallowed their nightly 
 rest by prayer ; and when, before retiring, his mother knelt 
 with him by his little bed and prayed, the child often 
 sobbed with a strange emotion, for which he could give no 
 reason. Something there is in the voice of real prayer that 
 thrills a child s heart, even before he understands it ; the 
 holy tones are a kind of heavenly music, and far off, in dis 
 tant years, the callous and worldly man often thrills to his 
 heart s core when some turn of life recalls to him his 
 mother s prayer. 
 
 So passed the first years of the life of Fred. Mean 
 while his little sister had come to toddle about the cottage 
 floor full of insatiable and immeasurable schemes of mis 
 chief. It was she that upset the clothes basket, and pulled 
 over the molasses pitcher on to her own astonished head, 
 and with incredible labor upset every pail of water that by 
 momentary thoughtlessness was put within reach. It was 
 she that was found stuffing poor, solemn old pussy head 
 first into the water jar, that wiped up the floor with her 
 mother s freshly-ironed clothes, and jabbered, meanwhile, in 
 most unexampled Babylonish dialect, her own vindications 
 and explanations of these misdemeanors. Every day her 
 mother declared that she must begin to get that child into 
 some kind of order ; but still the merry little curly pate 
 contemned law and order, and laughed at all ideas of retri 
 butive justice, and Fred and his mother laughed and de 
 plored, in the same invariable succession, the various dire 
 ful results of her activity and enterprise. 
 
 But still, as Mary toiled on, heavy cares weighed down 
 her heart. Her boy grew larger and larger, and her own 
 health grew feebler in proportion as it needed to be stronger. 
 Sometimes a whole week at a time found her scarce able to 
 crawl from her bed, shaking with ague, or burning with 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 369 
 
 fever ; and when there is little or nothing with which to 
 replace them, how fast food seems to be consumed, and 
 clothing to be worn out ! And so at length it came to pass 
 that, notwithstanding the labors of the most tireless of 
 needles, and the cutting, clipping, and contriving of the 
 most ingenious of hands, the poor mother was forced to 
 own to herself that her darlings looked really shabby, and 
 kind neighbors one by one hinted and said that she must 
 do something with her boy that he was old enough to 
 earn his own living; and the same idea occurred to the 
 spirited little fellow himself. 
 
 He had often been along by the side of the canal, and 
 admired the horses ; for between the horse and Fred there 
 was a perfect magnetic sympathy, and no lot in life looked 
 to him so bright and desirable as to be able to sit on a 
 horse and drive all day long; and when Captain W., pleased 
 with the boy s bright face and prompt motions, sought to 
 enlist him as one of his drivers, he found a delighted 
 listener. " If he could only persuade mother, there was 
 nothing like it." For many nights after the matter was 
 proposed, Mary only cried ; and all Fred s eloquence, and 
 his brave promises of never doing anything wrong, and be 
 ing the best of all supposable boys, were insufficient to con 
 sole her. 
 
 Every time she looked at the neat, pure little bed, beside 
 her own, that bed hallowed by so many prayers, and saw 
 her boy, with his glowing cheeks and long dark lashes, 
 sleeping so innocently and trustfully, her heart died within 
 her, as she thought of a dirty berth on the canal boat, and 
 rough boatmen, swearing, chewing tobacco, and drinking ; 
 and should she take her darling from her bosom and throw 
 him out among these ? Ah, happy mother ! look at your 
 little son of ten years, and ask yourself, if you were obliged 
 to do this, should you not tremble ! Give God thanks, 
 therefore, you can hold your child to your heart till he is 
 
370 LITTLE FEED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 old enough to breast the dark wave of life. The poor must- 
 throw them in, to sink or swim, as happens. Not for ease 
 not for freedom from care not for commodious house 
 and fine furniture, and all that competence gives, should 
 you thank God so much as for this, that you are able to 
 shelter, guide, restrain, and educate the helpless years of 
 your children. 
 
 Mary yielded at last to that master who can subdue all 
 wills necessity. Sorrowfully, yet with hope in God, she 
 made up the little package for her boy, and communicated 
 to him with renewed minuteness her parting counsels and 
 instructions. Fred was bright and full of hope. He was 
 sure of the great point about which his mother s anxiety 
 clustered he should be a good boy, he knew he should ; 
 he never should swear ; he never should touch a drop of 
 spirits, no matter who asked him that he was sure of. 
 Then he liked horses so much : he should ride all day and 
 never get tired, and he would come back and bring her some 
 money ; and so the boy and his mother parted. 
 Physical want or hardship is not the great thing which a 
 mother need dread for her child in our country. There is 
 scarce any situation in America where a child would not 
 receive, as a matter of course, good food and shelter ; nor is 
 he often overworked. In these respects a general spirit of 
 good nature is perceptible among employers, so that our 
 Fred meets none of the harrowing adventures of an Oliver 
 Twist in his new situation. 
 
 To be sure he soon found it was not as good fun to ride a 
 horse hour after hour, and day after day, as it was to prance 
 and caper about for the first few minutes. At first his back 
 ached, and his little hands grew stiff, and he wished his turn 
 were out, hours before the time ; but time mended all this. 
 He grew healthy and strong, and though occasionally kicked 
 and tumbled about rather unceremoniously by the rough 
 men among whom he had been cast, yet, as they said, " he 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 371 
 
 was a chap that always came down on his feet, throw him 
 which way you would ; " and for this reason he was rather 
 a favorite among them. The fat, black cook, who piqued 
 himself particularly on making corn cake and singing 
 Methodist hymns in a style of unsurpassed excellence, took 
 Fred into particular favor, and being equally at home in 
 kitchen and camp-meeting lore, not only put by for him 
 various dainty scraps and fragments, but .also undertook to 
 further his moral education by occasional luminous exhorta 
 tions and expositions of Scripture, which somewhat puzzled 
 poor Fred, and greatly amused the deck hands. 
 
 Often, after driving all day, Fred sat on deck beside his 
 fat friend, while the boat glided on through miles and miles 
 of solemn, unbroken old woods, and heard him sing about 
 "de New Jerusalem, about " good old Moses, and Paul, 
 and Silas," with a kind of dreamy, wild pleasure. To be 
 sure it was not like his mother s singing ; but then it had a 
 sort of good sound, although he never could very precisely 
 make out the meaning. 
 
 As to being a good boy, Fred, to do him justice, cer 
 tainly tried to very considerable purpose. He did not 
 swear as yet, although he heard so much of it daily that it 
 seemed the most natural thing in the world ; and although 
 one and another of the hands often offered him tempting 
 portions of their potations, as they said, " to make a man of 
 him," yet Fred faithfully kept his little temperance pledge 
 to his mother. Many a weary hour, as he rode, and rode, and 
 rode through hundreds of miles of unvarying forest, he 
 strengthened his good resolutions by thoughts of home and 
 its scenes. 
 
 There sat his mother ; there stood his own little bed ; 
 there his baby sister, toddling about in her night gown ; 
 and he repeated the prayers and sung the hymns his mother 
 taught him, and thus the good seed still grew within him. 
 In fact, with no very distinguished adventures, Fred 
 
372 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 achieved the journey to Cincinnati and back, and proud of 
 his laurels, and with his wages in his pocket, found him 
 self again at the familiar door. 
 
 Poor Fred ! a sad surprise awaited him. The elfin 
 shadow that was once ever flitting about the dwelling was 
 gone ; the little pattering footsteps, the tireless, busy fin 
 gers, all gone ; and his mother, paler, sicker, sadder than 
 before, clasped him to her bosom, and called him her only 
 comfort. Fred had brought a pocketful of sugar plums, 
 and the brightest of yellow oranges to his little pet ; alas ! 
 how mournfully he regarded them now ! 
 
 How little do we realize, when we hear that such and 
 such a poor woman has lost her baby, how much is implied 
 to her in the loss ! She is poor ; she must work hard j the 
 child was a great addition to her cares ; and even pitying 
 neighbors say, " It was better for her, poor thing ! and for 
 the child too. 7 But perhaps this very child was the only 
 flower of a life else wholly barren and desolate. There is 
 often, even in the humblest and most uncultured nature, 
 an undefined longing and pining for the beautiful. It ex 
 presses itself sometimes in the love of birds and of flowers, 
 and one sees the rosebush or the canary bird in a dwelling 
 from which is banished every trace of luxury. But the 
 little child, with its sweet, spiritual eyes, its thousand bird- 
 like tones, its prattling, endearing ways, its guileless, lov 
 ing heart, is a full and perfect answer to the most ardent 
 craving of the soul. It is a whole little Eden of itself ; 
 and the poor woman whose whole life else is one dreary 
 waste of toil, clasps her babe to her bosom, and feels proud, 
 and rich, and happy. Truly said the Son of God, " Of such 
 is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Poor Mary ! how glad she was to see her boy again 
 most of all, that they could talk together of their lost one ! 
 How they discoursed for hours about her ! How they cried 
 together over the little faded bonnet, that once could scarce 
 
LITTLE FEED, THE CANAL BOY 373 
 
 be kept for a moment on the busy, curly head ! How they 
 treasured, as relics, the small finger marks on the doors, and 
 consecrated with sacred care even the traces of her merry 
 mischief about the cottage, and never tired of telling over 
 to each other, with smiles and tears, the record of the past 
 gleesome pranks ! 
 
 But the fact was, that Mary herself was fast wearing away. 
 She had borne up bravely against life ; but she had but a 
 gentle nature, and gradually she sank from day to day. Fred 
 was her patient, unwearied nurse, and neighbors never 
 wanting in such kindness as they can understand supplied 
 her few wants. The child never wanted for food, and the 
 mantel shelf was filled with infallible specifics, each one of 
 which was able, according to the showing, to insure perfect 
 recovery in every case whatever ; and yet, strange to tell, 
 she still declined. At last, one still autumn morning, Fred 
 awoke, and started at the icy coldness of the hand clasped in 
 his own. He looked in his mother s face ; it was sweet and 
 calm as that of a sleeping infant, but he knew in his heart 
 that she was dead. 
 
PAKT II 
 
 MONTHS afterwards, a cold December day found Fred 
 turned loose in the streets of Cincinnati. Since his mother s 
 death he had driven on the canal boat ; but now the boat 
 was to lie by for winter, and the hands, of course, turned loose 
 to find employment till spring. Fred was told that he must 
 look up a place ; everybody was busy about their own affairs, 
 and he must shift for himself ; and so, with half his wages 
 in his pocket, and promises for the rest, he started to seek 
 his fortune. 
 
 It was a cold, cheerless, gray-eyed day, with an air that 
 pinched fingers and toes, and seemed to penetrate one s clothes 
 like snow water such a day as it needs the brightest fire 
 arid the happiest heart to get along at all with ; and, unluckily, 
 Fred had neither. Christmas was approaching, and all the 
 shops had put on their holiday dresses ; the confectioners 
 windows were glittering with sparkling pyramids of candy, 
 with frosted cake, and unfading fruits and flowers of the very 
 best of sugar. There, too, was Santa Claus, large as life, 
 with queer, wrinkled visage, and back bowed with the weight 
 of all desirable knickknacks, going down chimney, in sight 
 of all the children of Cincinnati, who gathered around the 
 shop with constantly-renewed acclamations. On all sides 
 might be seen the little people, thronging, gazing, chattering, 
 while anxious papas and mammas in the shops were gravely 
 discussing tin trumpets, dolls, spades, wheelbarrows, and toy 
 wagons. 
 
 Fred never had heard of the man who said, " How sad a 
 thing it is to look into happiness through another man s 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 375 
 
 eyes ! " but he felt something very like it as he moved 
 through the gay and bustling streets, where everybody 
 seemed to be finding what they wanted but himself. 
 
 He had determined to keep up a stout heart ; but, in 
 spite of himself, all this bustling show and merriment 
 made him feel sadder and sadder, and lonelier and lonelier. 
 He knocked and rang at door after door, but nobody 
 wanted a boy ; nobody ever does want a boy when a boy is 
 wanting a place. He got tired of ringing door bells, and 
 tried some of the shops. No, they did n t want him. One 
 said if he was bigger he might do, another wanted to know 
 if he could keep accounts; one thought that the man 
 around the corner wanted a boy, and when Fred got there 
 he had just engaged one. Weary, disappointed, and dis 
 couraged, he sat down by the iron railing that fenced a 
 showy house, and thought what he should do. It was al 
 most five in the afternoon : cold, dismal, leaden-gray was 
 the sky the darkness already coming on. Fred sat list 
 lessly watching the great snow feathers, as they slowly 
 sailed down from the sky. Now he heard gay laughs, as 
 groups of merry children passed; and then he started, as 
 he saw some woman in a black bonnet, and thought she 
 looked like his mother. But all passed, and nobody looked 
 at him, nobody wanted him, nobody noticed him. 
 
 Just then a patter of little feet was heard behind him 
 on the flagstones, and a soft baby voice said, " How do ? oo 
 do ? " Fred turned in amazement ; and there stood a 
 plump, rosy little creature of about two years, with dimpled 
 cheek, ruby lips, and long, fair hair curling about her sweet 
 face. She was dressed in a blue pelisse, trimmed with 
 swan s down, and her complexion was so exquisitely fair, 
 her eyes so clear and sweet, that Fred felt almost as if it 
 were an angel. The little thing toddled up to him, and 
 holding up before him a new wax doll, all splendid in silk 
 and lace, seemed quite disposed to make his acquaintance. 
 
376 LITTLE FEED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 Fred thought of his lost sister, and his eyes filled up with 
 tears. The little one put up one dimpled hand to wipe 
 them away, while with the other holding up before him 
 the wax doll, she said, coaxingly, " No no ky." 
 
 Just then the house door opened, and a lady, richly 
 dressed, darted out, exclaiming, "Why, Mary, you little 
 rogue, how came you out here ? " Then stopping short, 
 and looking narrowly on Fred, she said, somewhat sharply, 
 " Whose boy are you ? and how came you here ? " 
 
 " 1 m nobody s boy," said Fred, getting up, with a 
 bitter choking in his throat ; " my mother s dead ; I only 
 sat down here to rest me for a while." 
 
 " Well, run away from here," said the lady ; but the 
 little girl pressed before her mother, and jabbering very 
 earnestly in unimaginable English, seemed determined to 
 give Fred her wax doll, in which, she evidently thought, 
 resided every possible consolation. 
 
 The lady felt in her pocket and found a quarter, which 
 she threw towards Fred. " There, my boy, that will get 
 you lodging and supper, and to-morrow you can find some 
 place to work, I dare say ; " and she hurried in with the 
 little girl, and shut the door. 
 
 It was not money that Fred wanted just then, and he 
 picked up the quarter with a heavy heart. The sky looked 
 darker, and the street drearier, and the cold wind froze the 
 tear on his cheeks as he walked listlessly down the street 
 in the dismal twilight. " I can go back to the canal boat, 
 and find the cook," he thought to himself. " He told me 
 I might sleep with him to-night if I could n t find a place ; " 
 and he quickened his steps with this determination. Just 
 as he was passing a brightly lighted coffee house, familiar 
 voices hailed him, and Fred stopped ; he would be glad even 
 to see a dog he had ever met before, and of course he was 
 glad when two boys, old canal boat acquaintances, hailed 
 him, and invited him into the coffee house. The blazing 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 377 
 
 fire was a brave light on that dismal night, and the faces 
 of the two boys were full of glee, and they began rallying 
 Fred on his doleful appearance, and insisting on it that 
 he should take something warm with them. 
 
 Fred hesitated a moment ; but he was tired and desperate, 
 and the steaming, well-sweetened beverage was too tempting. 
 
 " Who cares for me ? " thought he, " and why should I 
 care ? " and down went the first spirituous liquor the boy 
 had ever tasted ; and in a few moments he felt a wonder 
 ful change. He was no longer a timid, cold, disheartened, 
 heart-sick boy, but felt somehow so brave, so full of hope 
 and courage, that he began to swagger, to laugh very loud, 
 and to boast in such high terms of the money in his pocket, 
 and of his future intentions and prospects, that the two 
 boys winked significantly at each other. They proposed, 
 after sitting a while, to walk out and see the shop windows. 
 All three of the boys had taken enough to put them to 
 extra merriment ; but Fred, who was entirely unused to 
 the stimulant, was quite beside himself. If they sung, he 
 shouted ; if they laughed, he screamed ; and he thought 
 within himself he never had heard and thought so many 
 witty things as on that very evening. At last they fell in 
 with quite a press of boys, who were crowding round a con 
 fectionery window, and, as usual in such cases, there began 
 an elbowing and scuffling contest for places, in which Fred 
 was quite conspicuous. At last a big boy presumed on his 
 superior size to edge in front of our hero, and cut off his 
 prospect ; and Fred, without more ado, sent him smashing 
 through the shop window. There was a general scrabble, 
 every one ran for himself, and Fred, never having been 
 used to the business, was not very skillful in escaping, and 
 of course was caught and committed to an officer, who, 
 with small ceremony, carried him off and locked him up in 
 the watch house, from which he was the next morning 
 taken before the mayor, and after examination sent to jail. 
 
378 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 This sobered Fred. He came to himself as out of a 
 dream, and he was overwhelmed with an agony of shame 
 and self-reproach. He had broken his promise to his dead 
 mother he had been drinking ! and his heart failed him 
 when he thought of the horrors that his mother had always 
 associated with that word. And then he was in jail that 
 place that his mother had always represented as an almost 
 impossible horror, the climax of shame and disgrace. The 
 next night the poor boy stretched himself on his hard, 
 lonely bed, and laid under his head his little bundle, con 
 taining his few clothes and his mother s Bible, and then 
 sobbed himself to sleep. 
 
 Cold and gray dawned the following morning on little 
 Fred, as he slowly and heavily awoke, and with a bitter 
 chill of despair recalled the events of the last two nights, 
 and looked up at the iron-grated window, and round on the 
 cheerless walls ; and, as if in bitter contrast, arose before 
 him an image of his lost home the neat, quiet room, the 
 white curtains and snowy floor, his mother s bed, with his 
 own little cot beside it, and his mother s mild blue eyes, as 
 they looked upon him only six months ago. Mechanically 
 he untied the check handkerchief which contained his few 
 clothes, and worldly possessions, and relics of home. 
 
 There was the small, clean-printed Bible his mother had 
 given him with so many tears on their first parting ; there 
 was a lock of her soft brown hair ; there, too, were a pair 
 of little worn shoes and stockings, a baby s rattle, and a curl 
 of golden hair, which he had laid up in memory of his lost 
 little pet. Fred laid his head down over all these, his for 
 lorn treasures, and sobbed as if his heart would break. 
 
 After a while the jailer came in, and really seemed af 
 fected by the distress of the child, and said what he could to 
 console him ; and in the course of the day, as the boy 
 " seemed to be so lonesome like," he introduced another boy 
 into the room as company for him. This was a cruel 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 379 
 
 mercy ; for while the child was alone with himself and 
 the memories of the past, he was, if sad, at least safe, and 
 in a few hours after his new introduction he was neither. 
 His new companion was a tall boy of fourteen, with small, 
 cunning, gray eyes, to which a slight cast gave an additional 
 expression of shrewdness and drollery. He was a young 
 gentleman of great natural talent, in a certain line, 
 with very precocious attainments in all that kind of infor 
 mation which a boy gains by running at large for several 
 years in the city s streets without anything particular to do, 
 or anybody in particular to obey any conscience, any prin 
 ciple, any fear either of God or man. We should not say 
 that he had never seen the inside of a church, for he had 
 been, for various purposes, into every one of the city, and 
 to every camp-meeting for miles around ; and so much had he 
 profited by these exercises, that he could mimic to perfection 
 every minister who had any perceptible peculiarity, could 
 caricature every species of psalm-singing, and give ludicrous 
 imitations of every form of worship. Then he was au fait 
 in all coffee house lore, and knew the names and qualities 
 of every kind of beverage therein compounded ; and as to 
 smoking and chewing, the first elements of which he mas 
 tered when he was about six years old, he was now a con 
 noisseur in the higher branches. He had been in jail dozens 
 of times rather liked the fun ; had served one term on 
 the chain-gang not so bad either should n t mind an 
 other learned a good many prime things there. 
 
 At first Fred seemed inclined to shrink from his new asso 
 ciate. An instinctive feeling, like the warning of an invis 
 ible angel, seemed to whisper, " Beware ! " But he was 
 alone, with a heart full of bitter thoughts, and the sight of a 
 fellow-face was some comfort. Then his companion was so 
 dashing, so funny, so free and easy, and seemed to make such 
 a comfortable matter of being in jail, that Fred s heart, nat 
 urally buoyant, began to come up again in his breast. Dick 
 
380 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 Jones soon drew out of him his simple history as to how he 
 came there, and finding that he was a raw hand, seemed to 
 feel bound to patronize and take him under his wing. He 
 laughed quite heartily at Fred s story, and soon succeeded 
 in getting him to laugh at it too. 
 
 How strange ! the very scenes that in the morning he 
 looked at only with bitter anguish and remorse, this noon he 
 was laughing at as good jokes so much for the influence 
 of good society ! An instinctive feeling, soon after Dick 
 Jones came in, led Fred to push his little bundle into the 
 farthest corner, under the bed, far out of sight or inquiry j 
 and the same reason led him to suppress all mention of his 
 mother, and all the sacred part of his former life. He did 
 this more studiously, because, having once accidentally re 
 marked how his mother used to forbid him certain things, 
 the well-educated Dick broke out, 
 
 " Well, for my part, I could whip my mother when I 
 wa n t higher than that ! " with a significant gesture. 
 
 " Whip your mother ! " exclaimed Fred, with a face full 
 of horror. 
 
 " To be sure, greenie ! Why not ? Precious fun it 
 was in those times. I used to slip in and steal the old wo 
 man s whiskey and sugar when she was just too far over to 
 walk a crack she d throw the tongs at me, and I d throw 
 the shovel at her, and so it went square and square." 
 
 Goethe says somewhere, " Miserable is that man whose 
 mother has not made all other mothers venerable." Our 
 new acquaintance bade fair to come under this category. 
 
 Fred s education, under this talented instructor, made 
 progress. He sat hours and hours laughing at his stories 
 sometimes obscene, sometimes profane, but always so full 
 of life, drollery, and mimicry that a more steady head than 
 Fred s was needed to withstand the contagion. Dick had 
 been to the theatre knew it all like a book, and would 
 take Fred there as soon as they got out ; then he had a 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 381 
 
 first-rate pack of cards, and lie could teach Fred to play ; 
 and the gay tempters were soon spread out on their bed, 
 and Fred and his instructor sat hour after hour asborbed 
 in what to him was a new world of interest. He soon 
 learned, could play for small stakes, and felt in himself the 
 first glimmering of that fire which, when fully kindled, 
 many waters cannot quench, nor floods drown ! 
 
 Dick was, as we said, precocious. He had the cool eye 
 and steady hand of an experienced gamester, and jn a few 
 days he won, of course, all Fred s little earnings. But 
 then he was quite liberal and free with his money. He 
 added to their prison fare such various improvements as his 
 abundance of money enabled him to buy. He had brought 
 with him the foundation of good cheer in a capacious bottle 
 which emerged the first night from his pocket, for he said 
 he never went to jail without his provision ; then hot 
 water, and sugar, and lemons, and peppermint drops were 
 all forthcoming for money, and Fred learned once and again, 
 and again, the fatal secret of hushing conscience, and 
 memory, and bitter despair in delirious happiness, and, as 
 Dick said, was " getting to be a right jolly un that would 
 make something yet. 7 
 
 And was it all gone, all washed away by this sudden 
 wave of evil ? every trace of prayer, and hope, and sacred 
 memory in this poor child s heart ? No, not all ; for 
 many a night, when his tempter slept by his side, the child 
 lived over the past , again he kneeled in prayer, and felt 
 his mother s guardian hand on his head, and he wept tears 
 of bitter remorse, and wondered at the dread change that 
 had come over him. Then he dreamed, and he saw his 
 mother and sister walking in white, fair as angels, and would 
 go to them ; but between him and them was a great gulf 
 fixed, which widened and widened, and grew darker and 
 darker, till he could see them no more, and he awoke in 
 utter misery and despair. 
 
382 LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 
 
 Again and again he resolved, in the darkness of the night, 
 that to-morrow he would not drink, and he would not speak 
 a wicked word, and he would not play cards, nor laugh at 
 Dick s bad stories. Ah, how many such midnight resolves 
 have evil angels sneered at and good ones sighed over ! for 
 with daylight back comes the old temptation, and with it 
 the old mind ; and with daylight came back the inexorable 
 prison walls which held Fred and his successful tempter 
 together. 
 
 At last he gave himself up. No, he could not be good 
 with Dick there was no use in trying ! and he made 
 no more midnight resolves, and drank more freely of the 
 dreadful remedy for unquiet thoughts. 
 
 And now is Fred growing in truth a wicked boy. In a 
 little while more and he shall be such a one as you will on 
 no account take under your roof, lest he corrupt your own 
 children ; and yet, father, mother, look at your son of twelve 
 years, your bright, darling boy, and think of him shut up 
 for a month with such a companion, in such a cell, and ask 
 yourselves if he would be any better. 
 
 And was there no eye, heavenly or earthly, to look after 
 this lost one ? Was there no eye which could see, through 
 all the traces of sin, the yet lingering drops of that baptism 
 and early prayer and watchfulness which consecrated it ? 
 Yes ; He whose mercy extends to the third and fourth gen 
 erations of those who love him, sent a friend to our poor 
 boy in his last distress. 
 
 It is one of the most refined and characteristic modifica 
 tions of Christianity, that those who are themselves shel 
 tered, guarded, fenced by good education, knowledge, and 
 competence, appoint and sustain a pastor and guardian in 
 our large cities to be the shepherd of the wandering and 
 lost, and of them who, in the Scripture phrase, " have none 
 to help." Justly is he called the " City Missionary," for 
 what is more truly missionary ground ? In the hospital, 
 
LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY 383 
 
 among the old, the sick, the friendless, the forlorn in the 
 prison, among the hardened, the blaspheming among the 
 discouraged and despairing, still holding with unsteady hand 
 on to some forlorn fragment of virtue and self-respect, goes 
 this missionary to stir the dying embers of good, to warn, 
 entreat, implore, to adjure by sacred recollections of father, 
 mother, and home, the fallen wanderers to return. He 
 finds friends, and places, and employment for some, and by 
 timely aid and encouragement saves many a one from 
 destruction. 
 
 In this friendly shape appeared a man of prayer to visit 
 the cell in which Fred was confined. Dick listened to his 
 instructions with cool complacency, rolling his tobacco from 
 side to side in his mouth, and meditating on him as a sub 
 ject for some future histrionic exercise of his talent. 
 
 But his voice was as welcome to poor Fred as daylight in 
 a dungeon. All the smothered remorse and despair of his 
 heart burst forth in bitter confessions, as, with many tears, 
 he poured forth his story to the friendly man. It needs 
 not to prolong our story, for now the day has dawned and 
 the hour of release is come. 
 
 It is not needful to carry our readers through all the steps 
 by which Fred was transferred, first to the fireside of the 
 friendly missionary, and afterwards to the guardian care of 
 a good old couple who resided on a thriving farm not far 
 from Cincinnati. Set free from evil influences, the first 
 carefully planted and watered seeds of good began to grow 
 again, and he became as a son to the kind family who had 
 adopted him. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY