BABOUSCKA 
 
 A 
 
 RUSSIAN 
 CHRISTMAS STORY
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BABOUSCKA 
 
 A RUSSIAN 
 CHRISTMAS STORY 
 
 AND 
 <VVV OTHER 
 
 STORIES 
 
 Illustrated 
 
 Merner Company 
 
 NEW YORK AKRON, OHIO CHICAGO 
 
 1899
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
 
 BY 
 THE WERNER COMPANY
 
 PZ 
 8.1 
 
 BJ/3 
 
 59 
 
 8SB*
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 OUT OF BREATH, TIRED, YET HUR- 
 
 IF you were a Russian 
 child you would 
 not watch to see Santa . 
 Klaus come down the 
 chimney ; but you would 
 stand by the windows 
 to catch a peep at poor 
 Babouscka as she hur- 
 ries by. 
 
 Who is Babouscka ? Is 
 she Santa Klaus' wife? 
 
 No, indeed. She is 
 only a poor little crook- 
 ed wrinkled old woman, 
 who comes at Christmas 
 time into everybody's 
 house, who peeps into 
 every cradle, turns back 
 every coverlid, drops a 
 tear on the baby's white
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 pillow, and goes away very, very sorrowful. 
 
 And not only at Christmas time, but through 
 all the cold winter, and especially in March, 
 when the wind blows loud, and whistles and 
 howls and dies away like a sigh, the Russian 
 children hear the rustling step of the Babouscka. 
 She is always in a hurry. One hears her running 
 fast along the crowded streets and over the quiet coun- 
 try fields. She seems to be out of breath and tired, 
 yet she hurries on. 
 
 Whom is she trying to overtake ? 
 
 She scarcely looks at the little children as they 
 press their rosy faces against the window pane and 
 whisper to each other, " Is the Babouscka looking 
 for us?" 
 
 No, she will not stop ; only on Christmas eve will 
 she come up-stairs into the nursery and give each 
 little one a present. You must not think she leaves 
 handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you. 
 She does not bring bicycles to the boys or French 
 dolls to the girls. She does not come in a gay little 
 sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, 
 and she leans on a crutch. She has her old apron
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 filled with candy and cheap toys, and the children all 
 love her dearly. They watch to see her come, and 
 when one hears a rustling, he cries, " Lo ! the Ba- 
 bouscka ! " then all others look, but one must turn 
 one's head very quickly or she vanishes. I never 
 saw her myself. 
 
 Best of all, she loves little babies, and often, when 
 the tired mothers sleep, she bends over their cradles, 
 puts her brown, wrinkled face close down to the pil- 
 low and looks very sharply. 
 
 What is she looking for ? 
 
 Ah, that you can't guess unless you know her sad 
 story. 
 
 Long, long ago, a great many yesterdays ago, the 
 Babouscka, who was even then an old woman, was 
 busy sweeping her little hut. She lived in the cold- 
 est corner of cold Russia, and she lived alone in a 
 lonely place where four wide roads met. These 
 roads were at this time white with snow, for it was 
 winter time. In the summer, when the fields were 
 full of flowers and the air full of sunshine and sing- 
 ing birds, Babouscka's home did not seem so very 
 quiet; but in the winter, with only the snow-flakes
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 and the shy snow-birds and the loud wind for com- 
 pany, the little old woman felt very cheerless. But 
 she was a busy old woman, and as it was already 
 twilight, and her home but half swept, she felt in a 
 great hurry to finish her work before bed-time. You 
 must know the Babouscka was poor and could not 
 afford to do her work by candle-light. 
 
 Presently, down the widest and the lonesomest of 
 the white roads, there appeared a long train of people 
 coming. They were walking slowly, and seemed to 
 be asking each other questions as to which way they 
 should take. As the procession came nearer, and 
 finally stopped outside the little hut, Babouscka was 
 frightened at the splendor. There were Three 
 Kings, with crowns on their heads, and the jewels on 
 the Kings' breastplates sparkled like sunlight. Their 
 heavy fur cloaks were white with the falling snow- 
 flakes, and the queer humpy camels on which they 
 rode looked white as milk in the snow-storm. The 
 harness on the camels was decorated with gold, and 
 plates of silver adorned the saddles. The saddle- 
 cloths were of the richest Eastern stuffs, and all the ser- 
 vants had the dark eyes and hair of an Eastern people.
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 The slaves carried heavy loads on their backs, and 
 each of the Three Kings carried a present. One 
 carried a beautiful transparent jar, and in the fading 
 light Babouscka could see in it a golden liquid which 
 she knew from its color must be myrrh. Another 
 had in his hand a richly woven bag, and it seemed to 
 be heavy, as indeed it was, for it was full of gold. 
 The third had a stone vase in his hand, and from the 
 rich perfume which filled the snowy air, one could 
 guess the vase to have been filled with incense. 
 
 Babouscka was terribly frightened, so she hid her- 
 self in her hut, and let the servants knock a long 
 time at her door before she dared open it and an- 
 swer their questions as to the road they should take 
 to a far-away town. You know she had never stud- 
 ied a geography lesson in her life, was old and stu 
 pid and scared. She knew the way across the fields 
 to the nearest village, but she knew nothing else of 
 all the wide world full of cities. The servants 
 scolded, but the Three Kings spoke kindly to her, 
 and asked her to accompany them on their journey 
 that she might show them the way as far as she knew 
 it. They told her, in words so simple that she could
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 not fail to understand, that they had seen a Star in 
 the sky and were following it to a little town where a 
 young Child lay. The snow was in the sky now, 
 and the Star was lost out of sight. 
 
 "Who is the Child?" asked the old woman. 
 
 " He is a King, and we go to worship him," they 
 answered. " These presents of gold, frankincense and 
 myrrh are for Him. When we find Him we will take 
 the crowns off our heads and lay them at His feet. 
 Come with us, Babouscka ! " 
 
 What do you suppose ? Shouldn't you have 
 thought the poor little woman would have been glad 
 to leave her desolate home on the plains to accom- 
 pany these Kings on their journey ? 
 
 But the foolish woman shook her head. No, the 
 night was dark and cheerless, and her little home 
 was warm and cosy. She looked up into the sky, 
 and the Star was nowhere to be seen. Besides, she 
 wanted to put her hut in order perhaps she would 
 be ready to go to-morrow. But the Three Kings 
 could not wait; so when to-morrow's sun rose they 
 were far ahead on their journey. It seemed like a 
 dream to poor Babouscka, for even the tracks of the
 
 BABOUSCKA, 
 
 camels' feet were covered by the deep white snow. 
 Everything was the same as usual ; and to make sure 
 that the night's visitors had not been a fancy, she 
 found her old broom hanging on a peg behind the 
 door, where she had put it when the servants 
 knocked. 
 
 Now that the sun was shining, and she remem- 
 bered the glitter of the gold and the smell of the 
 sweet gums and myrrh, she wished she had gone 
 with the travellers. 
 
 And she thought a great deal about the little 
 Baby the Three Kings had gone to worship. She 
 had no children of her own nobody loved her 
 ah, if she had only gone ! The more she brooded 
 on the thought, the more miserable she grew, till the 
 very sight of her home became hateful to her. 
 
 It is a dreadful feeling to realize that one has lost 
 a chance of happiness. There is a feeling called 
 remorse that can gnaw like a sharp little tooth. 
 Babouscka felt this little tooth cut into her heart 
 every time she remembered the visit of the Three 
 Kings. 
 
 After a while the thought of the Little Child
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 became her first thought at waking and her last at 
 night. One day she shut the door of her house for- 
 ever, and set out on a long journey. She had no 
 hope of overtaking the Three Kings, but she longed 
 to find the Child, that she too might love and 
 worship Him. She asked every one she met, and 
 some people thought her crazy, but others gave her 
 kind answers. Have you perhaps guessed that the 
 young Child whom the Three Kings sought was our 
 Lord himself? 
 
 People told Babouscka how He was born in a 
 manger, and many other things which you children 
 have learned long ago. These answers puzzled the 
 old dame mightily. She had but one idea in her 
 ^norant head. The Three Kings had gone to seek 
 d Baby. She would, if not too late, seek Him too. 
 
 She forgot, I am sure, how many long years had 
 gone by. She looked in vain for the Christ-child in 
 His manger-cradle. She spent all her little savings 
 in toys and candy so as to make friends with little 
 children, that they might not run away when she came 
 hobbling into their nurseries. 
 
 Now you know for whom she is sadly seeking
 
 BABOUSCKA. 
 
 when she pushes back the bed-curtains and bends 
 down over each baby's pillow. Sometimes, when the 
 old grandmother sits nodding by the fire, and the 
 bigger children sleep in their beds, old Babouscka 
 comes hobbling into the room, and whispers softly, 
 " Is the young Child here ? " 
 
 Ah, no ; she has come too late, too late. But the 
 little children know her and love her. Two thousand 
 years ago she lost the chance of finding Him. 
 Crooked, wrinkled, old, sick and sorry, she yet lives 
 on, looking into each baby's face always disap- 
 pointed, always seeking. Will she find Him at 
 last?
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 NESTLED in a secluded nook between two ranges 
 of billowy hills, with one dormer window com- 
 manding a bend of the Hudson, but with its ample 
 porch facing the gorge which led like a steep staircase 
 to the wilderness, stood for many years the hunting 
 lodge of Peter Van Vechten. 
 
 It had a wild, solitary look, and yet there were signs 
 of comfort and even of luxury about the place. Its 
 lonely situation might have been the choice of either 
 a very happy or of a grief-stricken man. At all events 
 it was the hermitage of a man who loved to live apart 
 from the world. The broad carriage-drive which 
 swept up to the hospitable porch was grass-grown and 
 had lost all signs of ruts of wheels. Only hoof-prints
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 here and there told that Peter Van Vechten was as 
 fond of the hunt as ever, and that his daughter Lilian 
 often rode to the hounds with him. 
 
 He had been a kind and true father to his little 
 girl, almost too indulgent for her own best good, 
 parting with her company much of the time that she 
 might acquire an elegant education in the city, and 
 living a lonely life with only his three hounds as 
 companions. At length Lilian's education was pro- 
 nounced finished, and she returned to the Lodge. 
 The little window that kept watch over the Hudson 
 was her own, and she would look at the passengers 
 flitting by in the swift-winged schooners on their way 
 to Albany or New York, for this was before the time 
 of steamboats or rail-car. It was very dull at the 
 Lodge, in spite of rides upon her pony, and the harp- 
 sichord which her father loved to listen to in the 
 evening. He had a rich full voice and sometimes 
 joined her in 
 
 " My heart's in the highlands." 
 
 He escorted her in her calls at the stately old 
 manor-houses, and once in a great while a venerable
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY 
 
 coach rattled up to their own door and a Madam 
 Livingston or Van Cortland, or a Miss Verplanck 
 would make a dignified visit at the Lodge. 
 
 There were the woods for botanizing and her 
 embroidery frame for rainy days, but in spite of all 
 this, Lilian was discontented. She could not have 
 cared greatly for her father, and yet she was jealous 
 of his pets, the three great dogs with their odd names : 
 Prince, Peace and Prosper; so-called, their master 
 explained, because if you held fast to Principle, Peace 
 and Prosperity would follow. Prince was in fact the 
 leader of the little pack, and if you held him well in 
 leash, the others never wandered. Peace was a quiet 
 inoffensive dog, a poor hunter, with a loving disposi- 
 tion and a melting eye. Old Prosper was always 
 lucky, and would come leaping back with the game 
 lightly, but securely held in his deep jaws, while 
 Prince looked on with the air of a commanding 
 general. 
 
 Lilian wondered that her father could be so happy 
 in the society of these dumb friends. His easy-going 
 temper grated against her ambitious spirit. She 
 chafed at the Lodge, not so much because she was
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 lonely and longed for pleasant companionship, for 
 friends to love, for opportunities to do good, as that 
 her proud, imperious nature longed for continual 
 admiration. She did not care whether anyone really 
 loved her, provided she could be envied, praised and 
 flattered. 
 
 When winter began she moped and sulked, and 
 fancied herself the most unhappy girl in the world, 
 until early in December an invitation came from an 
 aunt in Philadelphia, urging her to spend two months 
 in that city. Philadelphia was then the seat of gov- 
 ernment, and a gay and fashionable centre. Lilian 
 was delighted. She did not ask herself whether her 
 father might not be lonely in her absence, nor did she 
 for a moment suspect that he had written her aunt 
 requesting this invitation she was simply overjoyed 
 to leave the Lodge and to think that new dresses and 
 invitations to routs and parties awaited her. 
 
 But even in Philadelphia Lilian was not quite 
 happy. The society in which she was thrown was 
 political, and young ladies were honored quite as 
 much from their fathers' positions as for their own 
 grace or beauty. It was mortifying to Lilian to see
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 Miss Van Rensselaer of Albany leading the contra 
 dance, just because, as she told her jealous heart, 
 Miss Van Rensselaer's papa was a great man. How 
 provoking, too, to count Edith Verplanck's bouquets 
 and the admirers hovering round Gertrude Van 
 Cortland's chair ! She was sure Cora Livingston's 
 entrance would not have caused such a sensation if 
 her father had not recently been appointed Minister 
 lo France. No one had heard of Peter Van Vechten, 
 and she asked herself with tears in her eyes why her 
 Jiather had not done something to render himself 
 famous and confer distinction upon his family. 
 
 Her two months stretched into four, but she re- 
 turned to the Lodge more discontented than ever. 
 Her father greeted her gladly. He had employed 
 himself in her absence in making alterations in the 
 house which he thought would please her fancy ; ana 
 he proposed to invite Gertrude Van Cortland to pass 
 the summer with her. Lilian declined the offer un- 
 graciously, and met all her father's efforts for her 
 pleasure with an ungrateful manner which refused to 
 be pleased with anything. Her father was very con- 
 siderate and gentle in these days ; he did not reprove
 
 "GONE AWAY."
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 or reproach her, but seemed to be silently trying to 
 find the way to his daughter's heart. There was a 
 tender yearning in the furtive way in w .iich he watched 
 her, a glad flushing of the cheek whenever she chanced 
 to bestow on him a careless caress. He was not 
 well and had given up hunting ; but he went into 
 society more than formerly, and Lilian could not help 
 noticing when she entered a drawing-room leaning 
 upon his arm, that there was a little lull in conversa- 
 tion and people looked at him admiringly. He was a 
 handsome man with his abundant gray hair and fine 
 soldierly figure she contrasted him thankfully with 
 stout little Mr. Van Rensselaer, and felt that she 
 would be proud of him even in a Philadelphia assem- 
 blage of diplomats and dignitaries. If only she 
 could hear his name called with some high-sounding 
 title attached ! Perhaps it was not too late even now. 
 " Father," she asked one day as they rode through the 
 wood together, "why don't you go into poli- 
 tics ? " 
 
 He leaned forward and gently caressed the head of 
 one of the hounds with the handle of his riding-whip. 
 "If I went into politics, Lilian," he replied, "I would
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 have to leave the Lodge and perhaps bid farewell to 
 Principle, Peace and Prosperity." 
 
 Lilian thought of the words only as the names of 
 the dogs. " I don't see why you are so attached to 
 them," she replied, " I was so ashamed all last winter 
 to have people say when I was introduced, 'Van 
 Vechten, it seems to me I knew your father let me 
 
 see wasn't he a member of Congress for ' or 
 
 ' are you the daughter of Colonel or of Judge Van 
 Vechten.' Then some of the Philadelphia families 
 are descended from earls and dukes, and have coats 
 of arms emblazoned on the panels of their coaches. 
 I never could find that any of our family were noble : 
 and one or two of the girls have been to England and 
 have been presented at court. Edith Verplanck 
 showed me an amber satin dress she wore at a royal 
 reception, to which she was invited just because her 
 father had been sent on a diplomatic mission. / 
 don't seem to have anything to be proud of ! " 
 
 Lilian's father glanced aside. " I am sorry you 
 have had occasion to be ashamed of your father," he 
 said quietly. 
 
 The girl's better nature asserted itself for the
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 moment. " I never could be ashamed of you, dear, 
 kind father," she cried impulsively. " It is just be- 
 cause you are so much more worthy than other men 
 that I fret that you are not recognized. I should 
 think our country would feel honored to be able to 
 point to you as its minister in some European city. I 
 am every bit as proud of you as Cora Livingston is 
 of her father she always looked so aggravatingly 
 happy when people praised him to her." 
 
 " But Lilian, if I were to be sent upon a foreign 
 inission, perhaps I could not take you with me. How 
 'vould you like being left behind ? " 
 
 "I should not mind it in the least," Lilian exclaimed 
 thoughtlessly. " I should hear people praising you, 
 and so would Cora and Gertrude and the other 
 girls ; and I could hold up my head with any of them." 
 
 " And you would not mind if I were to spend the 
 rest of my days in Turkey or India ? " 
 
 " You would not have to spend your whole life 
 there, would you ? " Lilian asked ; " if you did, couldn't 
 you find some way for me to join you ? " 
 
 " And leave Philadelphia ? are you sure that you 
 would care to ? "
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 " Why of course, dear father." 
 
 " Even if it were a half civilized post, something 
 like the Lodge ? " 
 
 " Yes indeed ; and to prove it I'll not leave you 
 this winter. I am afraid I have been a selfish daugh- 
 ter, and I will give up Philadelphia if you wish 
 it." 
 
 A smile of infinite content crossed Peter Van 
 Vechten's face, but he shook his head. " No, no, 
 the sacrifice would be too great you enjoy Phila- 
 delphia even though you are not a grandee's daughter, 
 and you shall go again this winter." 
 
 Lilian had forgotten this conversation, when just 
 before leaving for her second winter with her aunt, as 
 the stage was climbing the hill and the servant carry- 
 ing out her little cow-skin covered trunk and well 
 corded cedarn boxes, her father took her hand and 
 spoke hurriedly as though moved by sudden impulse : 
 " And Lilian one last word : if I should obtain a 
 foreign mission and go away I know you love me 
 child, but don't grieve I'll manage some way to 
 send for you, so be glad of my promotion." 
 
 Lilian was delighted; was it possible that her
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 father was keeping back a secret as a glad surprise 
 for her some day ! She kissed him rapturously, sprang 
 into the coach, and waving a pretty silk-mittened 
 hand to the lonely man standing there with the dogs 
 capering about him and striving in vain to console 
 him, she rolled gaily away toward Philadelphia. 
 
 Very touching and tender were the letters which 
 came to Lilian in the early winter, they were brief 
 however, and infrequent, and sometimes, in a pause 
 in the gay whirl of excitement in which she found 
 herself, Lilian would wonder why her father wrote so 
 seldom. Perhaps he was busy with negotiations in 
 regard to the foreign ministry or embassy. He re- 
 ferred to it sometimes in a sentence like this : 
 
 " Don't be ashamed of your old father ; a prospect 
 of high honor opens before him; " or " When I am 
 gone don't forsake Principle, and may Peace and 
 Prosperity never desert you." 
 
 Occasionally he spoke of a " long journey ; " but 
 though Lilian wrote enthusiastically, or curiously, 
 and begged him to confide his projects to her, he 
 kept his secret well. 
 
 One dismal day in February Lilian was quite alone.
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 Her aunt was slightly ill and kept her room. A fine 
 sleety rain drove against the windows, and the room 
 was damp and chill. She seated herself at the harp- 
 sichord and played the old melodies which her father 
 loved to hear. She was singing : 
 
 " My heart's in the highlands, 
 My heart is not here," 
 
 when a servant handed her a letter. It was from 
 her father, but in such a cramped and trembling 
 hand that she hardly recognized it. 
 
 " DEAREST LILIAN, (it ran) 
 
 The message has come at last. I have received my commis- 
 sion, and must leave soon for a far country. I have dreaded the 
 passage, but now I am contented. I long only to see you before 
 I go. I fear that you may be unhappy without me; but be com- 
 forted we shall not be long separated. ' I go to prepare a 
 place for you that where I am there you may be also? Come 
 quickly to bid me good-bye, for I may be summoned at any 
 moment. It is a great honor, and I am very happy. Take 
 care of Principle for me, and may Peace and Prosper be yours, 
 always. Your loving 
 
 FATHER." 
 
 When Lilian's aunt read the letter she looked pale
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 and frightened. " You must go at once, poor child," 
 she said. 
 
 " Of course," Lilian replied, and hurriedly prepared 
 for her journey. How odd, she thought, that her 
 father had not mentioned the name of the foreign 
 country to which he was sent. No matter, it was 
 enough to know that the embassy was an honorable 
 and an important one. She had always been proud 
 of her father ; she was not surprised that he should 
 be chosen for such a mission ; and now her delighted 
 imagination pictured the homage which she would 
 receive as the daughter of a foreign minister. Her 
 father need not have feared that she would miss 
 him she had grown accustomed to their separation 
 and it did not pain her. He had said that she should 
 come too. She hoped the station would prove gay 
 and interesting, one of the principal capitals of Europe, 
 and she almost regretted her rash expression of wil- 
 lingness to follow her father to some remote exile. 
 
 The stage left her at the wayside tavern a half a 
 mile from the Lodge. She was surprised not to find 
 her father here to meet her, and questioned the inn- 
 keeper, who seemed embarrassed at meeting her.
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 "Your father has gone away, Miss," he stammered. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " Lilian cried ; " am I too late ? 
 He must have been sent for suddenly." 
 
 " Yes Miss, he was took very sudden, at the last," 
 replied the man. 
 
 There was nothing to do but to climb the hill, vexed 
 that she had had her journey for nothing, and won- 
 dering what messages her father might have left for 
 her with the housekeeper. 
 
 As she opened the gate, Peace laid his great muzzle 
 affectionately against her hand, and Prince leaped 
 joyfully; but old Prosper only looked toward the 
 house and howled. So preoccupied was she with her 
 own thoughts that it was not until she stood upon the 
 very threshold that she noticed a long scarf of crape 
 which fluttered from the knocker. 
 
 Then all the awful force of the words, " Gone 
 away," struck the girl. Her grief was intensified by 
 her remorse for her selfish behavior, and for a time 
 she wept for her father as one who could not be com- 
 forted. He had been very ill, so the housekeeper 
 told her, all winter ; but he would not allow any one 
 to alarm Lilian. He wrote to her from time to time 
 8
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 when quite unable to do so. He spoke of her lov- 
 ingly but refused to have her sent for. 
 
 He had said once, after reading one of her eager 
 questioning letters asking where he was going, " Tell 
 her this is the guide-book. She will find the city all 
 described here." 
 
 Lilian took up the worn Bible and found a mark at 
 the passage : 
 
 "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it en- 
 tered into the heart of man, the things which God hath 
 prepared for them that love Him" 
 
 Then she remembered that her father had said 
 that she should join him some day, and she knew 
 how little she deserved such an honor as this. She 
 lacked the graces suited to the daughter of an am- 
 bassador to the Heavenly City. She remembered 
 that Cora Livingston had said, "I have to be very 
 careful of my conduct my father's position de- 
 mands it;" and that Edith Verplanck had told her 
 that she w-dS more frightened than glad when she 
 knew that she was to be presented at court, for she 
 feared that she might make some mistake in etiquette 
 in the presence of the king.
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 " The King of that world " thought LHian ; and 
 she sat herself earnestly to a study of the code of 
 sweet and gentle courtesy which made Christ "the 
 most perfect gentleman of all time ; " and to the ac- 
 quirement of accomplishments which she might carry 
 with her sometime when she joined the celestial em- 
 bassy. Little by little the spirit of Christ grew within 
 her, she became more meek and loving and trusting, 
 and serving her king, she became widely known 
 among the poor and suffering as the "kindly lady." 
 
 An embroidered satin picture, of the kind that 
 were fashionable when our grandmothers were 
 young, hangs still over the little mantle of the cham- 
 ber overlooking the Hudson, and on a species of 
 memorial tablet which adorns its centre, is delicately 
 worked in faded silk this stanza : 
 
 " My boast is not that I deduced my birth 
 
 From kings enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 
 
 But higher far my proud pretentions rise, 
 The child of parents passed into the skies." 
 
 I talked in this room with a bent old woman, who, 
 in her girlhood days had been the dressing maid of 
 aged Mistress Van Vechten. "Her senses failed
 
 A FOREIGN EMBASSY. 
 
 her at the last," said the old tiring-woman, "for 
 she took a strange notion that she was the daughter 
 of a foreign embassador. She grew restless like 
 and used to say that she wanted to go to 'the em- 
 bassy.' She had always been so simple-minded and 
 unostentatious that it seemed all the queerer to see 
 her taking such a high fancy. The very dumb ani- 
 mals loved her. I've heard her repeat the names of a 
 pack of hounds that used to belong to her father. 
 'Peace and Prosper,' she'd say; 'keep Principle and 
 you'll always have Peace and Prosper.' She was a 
 dear, kind lady. The night before she left us, she 
 came out of her room. ' Get my best brocade, 
 Calisty,' says she, ' I am going to the embassy. My 
 white brocade with the gold-thread figure I must 
 look my best in the presence of the king.' Then 
 she let me put her to bed as peaceable as a child ; 
 but about midnight she sat up. ' It's my turn, Cal- 
 isty,' she cried, her voice all trembling with happi- 
 ness, 'it's my turn, didn't you hear the usher call 
 Ambassador Van Vechten's daughter?' " 
 
 " I lighted a candle as quick as I could ; the dear 
 soul was gone."
 
 A QUEER LETTER CARRIER. 
 
 MOST children have seen a United States post- 
 man, with his plain uniform and letter-bag. 
 The letter carrier's quick step, too, you have noticed, 
 as if he were walking for a prize. 
 
 Now I will tell you of a postman who wore no 
 uniform, never uttered a word to any one he met, and 
 always distributed his mail without being late. He 
 could not read a word, and yet gave the mail to 
 the right person. He had no salary, got up and went 
 to bed when he pleased, and though he had not a dol- 
 lar in the world, he was contented. The queerest thing 
 about him is that I can't tell you his name, nor did he 
 wear a number, as some carriers do. Moreover, he car- 
 ried letters in the country and not in the city ; and this, 
 too, one hundred and fifty years ago. Through the 
 woods he walked on his round, and if it came to be
 
 A QUEER LETTER CARRIER. 
 
 dark, there were no lights to guide him. When he got 
 to the place where he delivered the letters, he did not 
 pull the bell with a quick jerk, as the postman does, nor 
 knock, to summon some one to come and get the 
 mail. If any one thanked him for the mail he brought, 
 he never said, " You're welcome." Altogether, as you 
 must admit, he was a funny letter-man. 
 
 But the funniest thing is that he was not a letter- 
 man at all. He was a letter-dog. More than one 
 hundred and fifty years ago, by the aid of the Gen- 
 eral Court of Massachusetts, there was built by the 
 settlers of Brunswick and Topsham (on the Andros- 
 coggin River, in the district of Maine) a fort named 
 Fort George, as a defence against the Indians. A 
 picture of these ancient works shows tha-t it was made 
 of stone, with little windows, like port-holes, near the 
 top of the walls. Within was a house, and the roof 
 peers over the ramparts. A flag floats from the staff, 
 and a heavy door is in the front a point carefully 
 guarded. Barracks for fifteen men were provided a 
 small force, but enough to keep the Indians at a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 About ten miles away, on the Kennebec River, was
 
 A QUEER LETTER CARRIER. 
 
 a little settlement called " The Reach," where now 
 the city of Bath, a famous ship-building place, is 
 pleasantly built along the river bank. The very few 
 families living at " The Reach " kept up communica- 
 tion with the fort, for it was their place of refuge 
 in war, and supplies were to be bought there in 
 quiet times. 
 
 The mail route of the carrier I am telling you about 
 was from this fort to " The Reach," through places 
 where Indians were hidden, waiting for some white man 
 to come within reach of their arrows. The faithful dog 
 would carry packages of letters from Brunswick to the 
 settlement, and bring back answers. When he got to 
 the house at "The Reach," where the mail was to 
 stop, he would howl in an anxious way ; then the let- 
 ters would be taken from him ; but still he would wait 
 and not stir until another bundle was given him the 
 parcel of mail matter for those in the fort. Then he 
 would put the letters, not in a letter-bag, but in a 
 place more safe his mouth! 
 
 Off he would start again through the lonely forest. 
 Foxes and rabbits and birds might start up near him, 
 but he remembered his errand, and turned neither to
 
 A QUEER LETTER CARRIER. 
 
 the right nor to the left. In two hours he would cover 
 the distance, and howl at the fort gate for the mail to 
 be taken in. In case of great danger, when word 
 would be written, the dog would always rush away as 
 if he knew what was the matter! 
 
 I wish I could tell you that, after working hard and 
 faithfully, the wise dog died quietly at home ; but, 
 alas ! after awhile the Indians discovered that the dog 
 oft seen was conveying information from the fort to 
 the houses down the river, and they soon found a 
 chance to kill him. At last, one day when he was 
 trotting through the thicket, holding fast to his parcel, 
 a slight sound was heard, which his instinct told him 
 was the light tread of a fox ; but the next instant an 
 Indian burst through the underbrush, and death 
 overtook him then and there! A brave man dies, 
 and praise is given him long after : the trusty dog 
 falls when he is doing his duty, and not even his 
 name is recorded !
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 DURING the wars with England, the inhabitants 
 of Nantucket, notwithstanding their hardships 
 and privations, persisted in marriages and weddings. 
 Father Peleg, though he had seen two ships full-laden 
 with sperm oil, belonging to "himself and sons," 
 taken by the enemy just off Great Point, never 
 thought of postponing William's marriage. The time 
 for its solemnization was appointed for the "twelfth 
 day of the twelfth month " by the monthly meeting. 
 That which was dictated to this " body of Friends " 
 by the "moving of the spirit," silenced all argument. 
 Accordingly the nuptials of Peleg's son and Andrew's 
 daughter were duly to be recognized. 
 
 THE MEETING HOUSES 
 
 used by Friends were devoid of paint, as a matter of
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 discipline. The interior was divided by a line of pil- 
 lars, separating the half occupied by the men from 
 what was denominated the "women's part." These 
 posts were longitudinally grooved. At times of busi- 
 ness, there descended straight from the heavens, the 
 children believed, between every two pillars a sliding 
 door, giving each sex a chance for private dis- 
 cussions. 
 
 At their public gatherings, these doors were again 
 raised, every boy and girl quietly wondering how ! 
 There were no Signer Blitzes in those parts ; tables 
 had always quietly rested on four legs, unless a caster 
 was off, which was soon remedied. 
 
 At right angles with the posts, and gradually elo- 
 vated from a square in the centre of each apartment 
 and terminated by the wall, were two opposing sets of 
 "rising-seats.'' If the simile is admissible (if not, let 
 it pass) the arrangement is as that of a circus, ignor- 
 ing the literal meaning of the word, and considering 
 it an "oblong square." The last sentence, although 
 written, understood and countenanced by a birth-right 
 member, is, it must be confessed, objectionable as a 
 matter of taste. The figure holds its own.
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 The "rising-seats" fronting the congregation were 
 occupied by ministers, elders and overseers. On the 
 ground benches sat "members of meeting" generally. 
 On the back "rising-seats," facing the ministers, etc., 
 sat the gay people men who wore double-breasted 
 coats ; girls with bows on their bonnets ; women who 
 insisted upon carrying a closed parasol by the rightful 
 handle, instead of the apex ; and those who had yet 
 other worldly ways. 
 
 On an occasion of a "marriage-in-meeting," one of 
 the overseers' " rising-seats " in the women's division 
 was left vacant for the " bridal couple," two old men 
 who were to superintend the groom, and two old 
 women who had the care of the bride. 
 
 According to appointment, one cold week-day 
 morning, William and Lydia walked, arm in arm, 
 through a crowded assembly, to the second rising-seat 
 in the Friends' South Meeting-house. As soon as 
 seated, the two old men alluded to took their places 
 by William, and the two old women by Lydia. 
 
 The twelve eyes were riveted on the floor. " At 
 what are they gazing ? " thought the young folks. 
 
 Little Jedidah Hussey solved the question to her
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 own satisfaction : "they were all watching a winter fly 
 which they feared might come to life and disturb one 
 of the folds in Lydia's shawl, and it would be such a 
 shame ! " 
 
 Jedidah must be excused, for she belonged to a 
 Presbyterian family. She had never been to a QuBker 
 meeting before, or she would have known that the 
 eight eyes were intent on the "inner light," while the 
 other four were cast down by the weight of the im- 
 pending silence, their owners respectively trying to 
 recite their role. 
 
 THE SIGNAL. 
 
 It is incumbent upon the Friend who sits next to 
 the young man, when in his judgment the minute 
 has arrived for the ceremony to begin, to signify the 
 same to the groom. This is brought about by a 
 slight touch of the arm. William, being on the look- 
 out for this, as the time draws near clears his throat 
 repeatedly; looks up inquiringly and defiantly, al- 
 most with a nod, at the junction of the ceiling with 
 the wall at the farthest end of the room, as if calcu-
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 lating some patent improvement. Suddenly he is in- 
 terested in the nails of the floor. He counts them : 
 first down; then up; then across; half diagonally; 
 and whole ditto. Finally, to verify his mathematics 
 and to prove his entire calmness, he ascertains the 
 number of rows and the units in each row, and is 
 about to get the product, when the dreaded sign is 
 given. 
 
 He has half a mind to rub his crazy-bone, as 
 though the nudge has fallen on a tender spot, thereby 
 showing the audience his stoicism. Instead of which 
 the color leaves his lips as he attempts to get up. 
 He reaches for the right hand of the bride, to aid the 
 weaker vessel to find her feet. 
 
 Lydia, on the other side, persists in extending the 
 left; knows confidently that the "left was the right" 
 when they practised the night before, and the week 
 before, and the month before. The stronger sex 
 gains, at last; with right hands joined they rise and 
 face the (Query : What ?) 
 
 They pause a moment ; Jedidah thinks, " in order 
 to give the girls a chance to see what the bride was 
 dressed in."
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 As to that, the groom's attire would bear scrutiny. 
 Thus : wash-leather short-clothes, silver knee-buckles, 
 rose-colored silk stockings reaching to the knees, 
 black swallow-tail coat, white vest (material lost to 
 tradition) and, to crown the whole, a "broad brim" 
 which was studiously kept on the head during the 
 whole meeting. 
 
 Bride's : Pearl-colored silk skirt and wrapper the 
 former open in front disclosing an apron of the same 
 fabric, just one shade deeper; on her head the prim- 
 mest of prim " pleater " (no ! plaiter is not the right ! 
 what do modern spelling-matches know of bonnets 
 worn by original Friends ! ) and over her shoulders 
 was thrown (thrown ! indeed ! rather put on with 
 line and plummet and level and a little mariner's 
 compass ! ) a book-muslin kerchief. 
 
 THE CEREMONY. 
 
 In this garb they address the meeting. He speaks 
 first that is, he shall speak when he gets ready ; 
 always did have his own way, and guesses he shan't 
 alter just now; has some idea of saying, in a jocose
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 way to the congregation, that he shall "bide his 
 time;" wishes he hadn't sat in that draft and got cold 
 in his limbs, which makes his knees shake, though 
 nothing new. At length, throat effectually cleared, 
 he declares in a voice of thunder that he takes Lydia 
 to be his wife. His tones come out on the last two 
 or three words with a bound so loud that it is evident, 
 he thinks, to the audience, how self-possessed he is. 
 
 The bride then repeats the same, telling them in a 
 "confidential whisper" that she takes William to be 
 her husband. 
 
 The latter is quite relieved when Lydia gets to the 
 period; his only fear had been for days, that she 
 would break down. He winks at her to that effect 
 as they resume their seats. She looks no response, 
 though she did know that the voice in which her 
 husband went through his part was one totally new 
 and strange to her. (This secret she kept inviolate 
 till the twenty-fifth anniversary of their wedding-day.) 
 
 As the couple sat down, the strangers rose to de- 
 part, when the rustling of paper brought them into 
 quiet again. A certificate of great dimensions was 
 handed to the couple for them to sign in their new
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 relation, setting forth what had taken place. When 
 William took the parchment he examined it thoroughly, 
 determined to know to what he was about to put his 
 name. No one of the congregation suspected that he 
 had hired Seth Gardner to copy this document (Seth 
 wrote German text like a native), and that he and 
 Lydia had viewed it again and again ; had even tried 
 holding a pen over the "places elect" of their names, 
 that nothing should be imperfectly done on the day of 
 the marriage. But, alas ! they had never spoken in 
 meeting before, and the rehearsing went for very 
 little. They signed ; he his old name, she her new. 
 
 There were those who said " if Lydia had removed 
 her right kid, which extended to the elbow, the play 
 of the fore-arm and the freedom of the thimble-finger 
 would have given an ease to her handwriting which 
 was entirely omitted." But there always are fault- 
 finders ! 
 
 After the above signatures were obtained, the cer- 
 tificate was read to the meeting at large by the clerk 
 of the men's part, who took his stand on the women's 
 side of the posts. The autograph of the crowd was 
 then allowed.
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 A silence ensued, less anxious than that which pre- 
 ceded the ceremony; a "refreshing season"! One 
 aged man felt moved to give the newly married 
 couple his sympathy. 
 
 A few more moments of intense hush, when the 
 head of each department, simultaneously inspired to 
 shake hands each with the other, performed this feat 
 across the dividing pilaster, as a signal that " meeting 
 was out." 
 
 THE FEAST. 
 
 No more interesting sight can be found than that 
 of a long table spread in a Quaker's side-room, sur- 
 rounded by youth and maidens in the simple dress of 
 the sect. That day two tables were arranged for 
 the guests. The bride and groom, both under twenty- 
 one years of age, yet being married, must sit with the 
 elder and more staid persons. At their table, the 
 drab coat prevailed, the muslin cap neatly pinned be- 
 neath the chin, and the silk mit. The old men's 
 neckerchiefs seemed to preserve an unparalleled par- 
 allelism. The end of Jacob's tie protruded a half- 
 inch from the knot. The end of Benjamin's tie pro-
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 truded a half-inch from the knot. The same of 
 Laban's, the same of every other. Each man spread 
 a large red bandanna over his knees ; every woman a 
 substantial Irish-linen pocket handkerchief in her lap. 
 A beautiful picture ! The table itself was appointed 
 with the real " dark blue " direct from Canton, heavy 
 silver, and cut-glass from the old country ; no plated 
 ware ! no burglars ! 
 
 The other table was surrounded by the young of 
 both sexes the boys with hair uniformly cut in 
 " bowl-fashion ; " nothing more nor less than the 
 " bang " of to-day, if spoken aside. The faces of 
 the girls peeped out of the sheerest round-eared caps 
 that you ever saw ; the white of the muslin only add- 
 ing to the innocence of the visage, and bringing out, 
 in a stronger light, the lurking fun of sweet sixteen. 
 
 Before " Friends " commenced eating, a long and 
 painful silence was the law. Quaker girls and boys 
 have the giggle in them, and after being pent up, it is 
 very apt to break out into "an amusement." The 
 author of the last sentence knows her subject ; no 
 contradiction is in order. So that the youth's table, as 
 soon as the quiet abated, was, "within bounds," lively.
 
 THE QUAKER WEDDING. 
 
 Dinner over, a few additional guests arrived. At 
 candle-light, the tables were again laid. Best of 
 Hyson tea, delicious biscuits, plum-cake and " hearts 
 and rounds " (a Nantucket institution) were served. 
 Tea over, yet a few more persons appeared for the 
 evening ; these were generally the " must-be-noticed " 
 class. Having been put through this ordeal many 
 times, as giver and receiver, each one understood the 
 honor, but no one remained at home through ill- 
 nature. Before the clock finished striking eight, 
 there was handed round a large waiter holding at 
 least forty-eight wine-glasses, each glass just two- 
 thirds full of " home-made currant-juice." The young 
 men and women of the family were taught to say, " Not 
 any for me, I'm 'bliged to thee." That fashion of 
 passing wine, Authority is happy to remark, has long 
 since had the go-by ; and, if anything as the evening 
 beverage is desired at a Friends' wedding better than 
 cold water, a little raspberry syrup supplies the defi- 
 ciency. 
 
 At nine o'clock precisely, the guests, all three vari- 
 eties, departed. The wedding was over.
 
 LADY GODIVA. 
 
 HAVE you ever heard of Coventry, an old town 
 not very far from London, where some of the 
 streets are so narrow that no wagons can pass through 
 them, and where the second stories of the quaint old 
 mansions jut over so far into the streets that they 
 almost touch each other ? 
 
 It was a lovely morning in September. We had 
 come from busy London, that immense city where 
 one million people every year ride in the many rail- 
 roads that are made under the houses, saying nothing 
 of the millions who throng the streets above ground. 
 All the people know Americans at sight, and they 
 looked at us as carefully as we at them. First we 
 went to a tall church that Sir Christopher Wren, the 
 10
 
 LADY GODIVA. 
 
 great architect, said was a masterpiece. Its tower and 
 spire alone are three hundred and three feet high : that 
 is about three times as high as the State House in 
 Boston. The church was built nearly four hundred 
 years before Columbus discovered America, and was 
 given by a great earl to the monks it is Protestant 
 now for "the repose of his soul." I suppose that 
 means that he might get safely to Heaven. 
 
 But the thing which most interested us about Cov- 
 entry was that here once lived a sweet and beautiful 
 lady about whom the people never tire of telling you. 
 
 She was the wife of an earl who governed Coven- 
 try. He was immensely rich, but he taxed his sub- 
 jects so that petitions came in every day to have 
 them lowered. Finally, as all their beseeching did 
 no good, the poor people came to his wife, Lady 
 Godiva, to beg her to intercede for them. Her heart 
 was touched, and she went to her husband, but he 
 was angry, and bade her never to speak of it 
 again. 
 
 Several months went by. He had been away to 
 some wars in the northern part of England, and com- 
 ing home, was so delighted to meet his wife and
 
 LADY GODIVA. 
 
 darling little boy, that he clasped them both to his 
 heart, asking her if she needed anything to complete 
 her happiness. She had money, an elegant home, 
 and lived like a queen, but she could not be happy. 
 She said, "While our people groan under oppression, 
 the most luxurious entertainment can afford me no 
 real enjoyment." 
 
 Leofric, her husband, again became violently 
 angry, but said, since he had promised to do what 
 she wished, he would keep his word ; but she must 
 ride on horseback, at noonday, from one end of the 
 pity to the other, with no clothing upon her. He 
 supposed of course that she would never consent to 
 this. For a moment, her noble womanly heart sank 
 within her, and then she said, " I will go." 
 
 Seeing that her mind was made up, he ordered all 
 the people to darken the fronts of their houses, and 
 retire to the back parts of them, while the devoted 
 lady took her lonely ride. When the appointed day 
 came, the whole city was as still as death. Lady 
 Godiva's beautiful white horse was brought to the 
 palace. With a face as blanched as her charger, 
 drawing her long dark hair like a scarf about her
 
 LADY GODIVA. 
 
 body, she mounted, and rode in solemn silence 
 through all the principal streets. No sound was 
 heard save that of the horse's hoofs, as the grateful 
 people waited for their burdens to be lifted. 
 
 And when the ride was over, and the people 
 opened their doors and unbarred their windows, a 
 great cry of rejoicing went up from thousands, for 
 Coventry was free. Lady Godiva, after founding 
 several churches, died about the year 1059. 
 
 Every three or four years in Coventry a quaint pro- 
 cession still takes place in honor of this noble act of 
 devotion to her people. The City Guard and High 
 Constable lead the column. Then follows a beautiful 
 woman clothed in a white linen dress, fitted close to 
 her body, with long hair floating about her, and a 
 large bunch of flowers in her hand, riding on a cream- 
 colored horse. On either side of her are two city 
 officials, dressed in green and scarlet. Two men 
 come next bearing the sword and mace, emblems of 
 the high authority of the mayor, followed by the 
 mayor himself in his scarlet robes, trimmed with fur, 
 wearing a cocked hat, and carrying a white wand in 
 his hand. Then come the Sheriffs in their black
 
 LADY GODIVA. 
 
 gowns ; all the different trades of the city ; the Odd 
 Fellovs, Foresters, and other benevolent societies. 
 
 The principal characters of the show are attended 
 by beautiful children in costly habits, riding on 
 horseback. These children are so small that they 
 are obliged to sit in basket-work seats, which are 
 fastened to the horses' backs. The men who lead the 
 horses, walk without their coats, and are decorated 
 with a orofusion of ribbons.
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 SOMEWHAT more than a hundred years ago, 
 good Farmer Whitney, who lived in the little town 
 of Spencer, in Massachusetts, found a new calf in his 
 barn one April morning. The farmer looked at it, de- 
 clared it a "likely heifer," and went in to tell the good 
 news to h'is family. They all went to the barn at 
 once little Cyrus and Ben and John, and Dame 
 Whitney with baby Lem in her arms. 
 
 Little Mooley stood by her mother quite bewil- 
 dered at the number of her lively visitors. They ad- 
 mired her clear bright eyes, her brown dewy nose, 
 shining coat and waxen hoofs ; they patted her head, 
 felt for her horns, and were delighted with the little 
 white star in her forehead. She was pronounced " a 
 very good calf." People in those days did not call 
 everything which pleased them splendid, or sitperb, or
 
 magnificent, as modern talkers do ; these subjects of 
 King George simply said Mooley was "a good calf" 
 < and so she was. 
 
 In a few days Mooley was taught to drink ; Dame 
 Whitney herself gave her her first lessons, after which 
 she was left to the care of Cyrus, who was a " master 
 hand with cattle," his father said. Cyrus brought in 
 armfuls of the sweetest hay, and steeped it in water, to 
 which he added a little meal and milk ; for the poor 
 calf had to share her mother's milk with the four little 
 Whitneys. They with the neighbors' children played 
 and romped with her sometimes, pulled her the ten- 
 derest grass, led her to water, taught her odd tricks ; 
 and one day when Cyrus and his father were out in 
 the pasture they all heard the loud booming of the 
 guns of Bunker Hill. 
 
 When Mooley was a well-grown heifer Mr. Whitney 
 sold his farm and went to Talland, Connecticut. 
 All their goods were packed upon an ox-cart, where 
 the mother and baby, and sometimes one of the 
 younger children, rode. The others, with the father 
 and the live stock, Mooley among the rest, took up 
 their line of march, on foot, toward their new home.
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 Once there, Mooley was left more than ever in 
 Cyrus' care ; for Mr. and Mrs. W. were engaged in 
 making saltpetre, by leaching the earth dug from un- 
 der old buildings, for the supply of gunpowder for the 
 Federal army. 
 
 At last, one morning when Cyrus came down the 
 ladder from the loft where he slept, he found his 
 father preparing to go to war, while his mother stood 
 before the fire which blazed in the wide chimney, 
 turning her " nut-cakes " in the hissing fat, and 
 proudly brushing away her tears. 
 
 Breakfast over, the good wife gave her "minute- 
 man " a last drink of Mooley's milk, filled his knap- 
 sack with her cakes, and turned to her saltpetre 
 works with more zeal than ever ; for she was a reso- 
 lute, fiery-hearted woman who loved her family and 
 hated the king with equal fervor. 
 
 Even those who can remember the last war can 
 have little idea of what our ancestors suffered during 
 those sad seven years. Cyrus and his mother weeded 
 the garden, fed the poultry, milked the cows did 
 their best. One day a hoop came off from the milk- 
 pail a milk-pail in those days was a clumsy affair
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 with wooden hoops, looking more like a mackerel kit 
 than a modern milk-pail. Mr. Whitney could easily 
 have put on another hoop if he had been at home ; 
 but there was no one to do it now, as the cooper also 
 had gone to war. So Mrs. W. sadly set the pail 
 away and took the cream-pot, a wide-mouthed brown 
 earthen jar, to the barn to milk in. She strained her 
 milk into thick, heavy pans, earthen like the cream- 
 pot, and skimmed it with a clam-shell. One night, I 
 am sorry to say, Mooley kicked the cream-pot over, 
 and while it went rolling across the barnyard she 
 scampered away. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Whitney sat still on her milking-stool 
 and cried ! The children gathered round her : " It 
 is not broken," they said consolingly. "Only a little 
 milk is spilled ! " " 'Taint broke ! " " 'Taint broke, 
 marm ! " 
 
 "But it might have been," sobbed the poor, tired, 
 troubled woman, as she prepared to pursue Mooley. 
 To replace the pot would indeed have been a hard 
 matter. 
 
 Mr. Whitney returned in a few months, and as it 
 was becoming hard to get the earth for making salt-
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 petre, and as many of his neighbors were going to 
 Vermont, he set off on foot to see the new State. He 
 was not gone long, for it is said he walked eighty 
 miles some days between the rising and setting of the 
 sun. 
 
 He was much pleased with the new country, and 
 the family again prepared to move. I think, children, 
 you could hardly keep from laughing, spite of your 
 efforts to be polite, if you saw such a caravan coming. 
 
 In front of the ox-load of furniture was a seat 
 where some of them rode, and behind was strapped a 
 coop with some fowls in it. Mrs. Whitney rode on 
 horseback with a child behind her, and a baby in her 
 arms. Then there were two colts which Cyrus led 
 most of the way, and a few sheep, and Mooley and 
 her calves, which Ben and John helped to drive. 
 The entire family were dressed in warm woollen gar- 
 ments which Dame Whitney had made ; carded, spun, 
 and woven the cloth from the wool shorn from their 
 own sheep, and then cut the garments, and made them 
 with thread of her spinning. Cyrus and his father 
 wore in addition short buckskin breeches buckled at 
 the knee.
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 Securely hidden in the midst of the load was one 
 of Mr. Whitney's long blue woollen stockings, knit to 
 come above the knee, tied up full of Spanish dollars. 
 " Not much march money," I hear some banker's boy 
 say ; but it was more than most of the settlers carried 
 with them, and quite sufficient to make them a well- 
 to-do family in the new town where they were going. 
 
 Mrs. Whitney also carried with great care the 
 seeds of catnip and burdock and mullein and other 
 weeds which are now the pest of the Vermont farm- 
 ers. Indeed, many of the weeds we now despise 
 were in those days highly prized as medicines ; and 
 every house-mother who went into the new country 
 carried with her not only bags of dried herbs, but 
 parcels of seeds to make sure the next year's supply. 
 Few doctors had yet gone to the new settlement, and 
 people were too poor to employ them except in 
 severest cases of sickness. 
 
 Thus these people took their way over rough 
 roads and through unbridged streams, more than a 
 hundred miles, in the bleak weather of December, 
 1780, just one hundred years ago! I suppose they 
 got very cold and tired ; but they stopped at night at
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 the little country taverns, cared for their animals as 
 best they could, ate their own luncheon, and drank 
 a little milk which Mooley gave. 
 
 They found a pleasant home in Vermont. A new 
 house was built, and a barn for Mooley and her 
 calves some of them grown to cows and oxen. 
 Doubtless Mooley now thought she was settled for 
 life ; but, the war over, the settlers again became 
 restless, and one morning Mr. Whitney came in to 
 say that Mr. Dee wanted to buy Mooley. 
 
 " Buy Mooley ? " they all exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 They were told that Mr. Dee was going to Cape 
 Breton Island with his family, and they wanted 
 Mooley for the milk supply and because she was 
 known to be a good traveller. 
 
 So, although the children cried and Madam 
 Whitney's stiff-starched cap-border fairly crackled 
 with indignation, Mooley was sold ; and they saw 
 her trudge off toward the isle of Cape Breton look 
 on your maps and see where that is. 
 
 The Whitney children thereafter got a scanty sup- 
 ply of milk from a sheep, whose lamb they fed with 
 bread and potatoes. This partly consoled them, and
 
 MOOLEY. 
 
 Madam Whitney was very glad to have a little 
 money to help the new church of which Mr. Whitney 
 had just been made deacon ; but still they all often 
 thought and longed to hear of Mooley. 
 
 Postal communication was almost impossible in 
 those days ; postage was very high, and post-offices 
 rare in the thinly settled parts of the country. Cards 
 were unheard of, letters seldom written. When let- 
 ters were written they were carried to the tavern and 
 thrust behind strips of basket-stuff tacked to the wall 
 in the bar-room ; and travellers were accustomed to 
 look over these letters and carry along those which 
 were to go on their route, as far as possible, and leave 
 them at the nearest tavern, when some other traveller 
 would take them. Think of that, children, who send 
 letters to your friends in California in less than a week ! 
 
 In this way, or some other, Mrs. Whitney heard, a 
 year after Mooley went away, that she arrived safe in 
 Cape Breton Island, and was again a loyal subject of 
 King George III.
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PA- 
 TIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 T HATE him ! Yes, I do ! and I never will take 
 -* another lesson ! See if I do ! " This was said 
 with emphasis. 
 
 Mrs. Gordon looked out of the parlor window to 
 find that the speaker was her own little daughter. 
 Madge was a bright, active girl with lovely chestnut 
 hair, blue eyes and red cheeks. A pet at home and a 
 favorite at school, it was not strange that she was im- 
 perious ; she enjoyed music, but she "hated practice." 
 
 Mrs. Gordon looked thoughtful. She desired 
 Madge to become an accurate musician, and she felt 
 that Professor Dartrum was a judicious teacher. A 
 moment later the parlor door was pushed open and
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 Madge stood there. There was a look of defiance in 
 her deep blue eyes. 
 
 " Let us hear all about it," said Mrs. Gordon, mak- 
 ing a place for Madge and her two young friends on 
 the sofa. Then followed a brief narration of the very 
 strict rules, and the torture to which she was every 
 day subject. 
 
 " Miss Craven is not half as strict say I may take 
 of Miss Craven, mamma ! " Madge concluded. 
 
 For answer Mrs. Gordon said very gently, " Before 
 we decide let me narrate something that I have read 
 of a young girl whose teacher was far more exacting 
 than Professor Dartrum." 
 
 " That could never be ! " exclaimed Madge. 
 
 " Will you have the story ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " cried three voices in chorus. 
 
 "As I shall leave you to guess the name of the 
 young girl, you will need to pay particular attention," 
 continued Mrs. Gordon. " The sleepy old place in 
 which our heroine lived, possibly had something to do 
 in fostering the love of music in her breast until it burst 
 into aflame bright enough to illumine two continents." 
 
 Here Madge felt that she had guessed the name.
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 "This sleepy old town," continued Mrs. Gordon, 
 "had a theatre where the little girl was accustomed to 
 go with her father. He was flute-player in the thea- 
 tre, and organist in the famous old cathedral. At last, 
 from following the musicians so closely, she longed 
 to play herself. The flute did not suit her small 
 mouth ; but the violin yes, she would have a violin ! 
 
 " ' A violin ! nothing could be more absurd,' her 
 relatives declared ; and aunt Caroline insisted that 
 her father must not indulge the child in this way 
 only boys played violins. However, this little girl 
 kept on asking, and at last her father brought home 
 the smallest violin that he could possibly buy. And 
 now for lessons ! M. Simon, the teacher, lived a good 
 distance away. It did not matter : three times a 
 week she took the long walk through the Rue Voltaire 
 across the crowded Place where the theatre stood, past 
 the handsome stores and over the bridge, and then 
 along a narrow street till the gray towers of the old 
 chateau came in sight. 
 
 " First she must learn to stand now to rest on 
 her left foot with the right partly in front ; then how 
 to hold her violin how it should rest on her shoul-
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 der and how to grasp and support it. Hold it per- 
 fectly still for ten minutes ! Then lay it down for a 
 few minutes' rest ! Take it up again and hold it firm ! 
 
 " Patiently now she bent her small fingers over the 
 strings, as if to touch a chord head erect, left arm 
 bent and brought forward so that she could see her 
 elbow under the violin. Then she must stand per- 
 fectly still with the right arm hanging down naturally. 
 No bow, of course. She must first learn to sustain the 
 weight of the violin and accustom her arm to its 
 shape. In silence, and motionless, she held the in- 
 strument. 
 
 " For two or three weeks she did this and nothing 
 more. 
 
 " Then the bow was placed in her right hand. Now 
 rest it lightly on the strings and draw it down slowly 
 and steadily. Not a sound ! No, there was no rosin 
 on the bow, and it slipped over the strings in silence. 
 
 " Two hours every day, nothing but positions and 
 dumb motions : not even finger exercises. Simply 
 to learn to stand, to put the fingers in the right place, 
 and to make the right motions with the bow. Very 
 often her poor arms would ache, and her legs become 
 11
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 stiff with standing. Then .her teacher had a temper, 
 and was at times fearfully cross. Tears stood in her 
 eyes; but no word of complaint ever was uttered. 
 She was going to play, and this was the way to learn. 
 
 "At home the same thing was repeated. Three 
 hours' practice every day with the dumb violin and 
 this for three full months. 
 
 " Now she has rosin on her bow. The exercises 
 are all written out with a pen by her master. Long- 
 sustained notes by the hour. The bow hardly moved, 
 so slowly did she draw it up and down. If she ob- 
 tained nothing else, she would have a strong, clear 
 tone, and learn to make a grand, full sweep with her 
 bow. Slowly and patiently she crept along, some- 
 times in the morning, sometimes late at night, listen- 
 ing to instructions and playing over the exercises. 
 
 " Seven hours every day ! Scales in every key ; 
 running passages of every imaginable character 
 nearly a year of dry scales. 
 
 " One day a famous musical director put up at the 
 Hotel de France. Would he listen to her playing? 
 Yes. 
 
 " She sat in her usual place in the orchestra all the
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 evening, and then, near midnight, with her violin 
 under her arm, called at the Hotel de France. The 
 great artist had been treated to a banquet, and was 
 still sitting in the dining-room. There were goblets 
 and champagne glasses on the table, and aftei; talk- 
 ing about music for a few moments, he took a fork, 
 and gently tapping on a wine-glass, asked what note 
 it was. It was E. And this one ? A. And this 
 one ? D. And so on. He was greatly pleased 
 with the experiment, and said he would hear her play. 
 ' Only, you must mind, I don't like false notes.' 
 
 "' I never give 'em, sir.' 
 
 " He laughed, and she began to play. She was a 
 bold, sturdy player, and astonished the director with 
 the graceful sweep of her small arm. At the close 
 he complimented her in a cordial manner, and hoped 
 she would go on with her studies. ' Oh ! she would ; 
 she meant to study all the time.' 
 
 " The first real piece was a grand occasion. She 
 played it through hundreds of times. Hours were 
 spent over one note. A week on a single page. One 
 passage she could not get right : forty-seven times 
 she played it before her master would let her off.
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 No matter, she must play it right if it took all day. 
 Tears dropped on the violin, the master was still 
 more enraged. At last she did it right, played it 
 over several times, went home, and never played it 
 wrong again in her life. 
 
 " At last there was to be a grand concert some- 
 thing quite out of the common course ; and it was 
 decided to bring out this young musician with her 
 wonderful violin-playing. The Italian opera, the 
 French opera, the dramatic corps, all the grand fam- 
 ilies, every musician in that old city, bought a ticket. 
 
 " The concert began and went on. The orchestra 
 played, and the artists sang, and then there was a 
 little rustle and hush of expectation as they brought 
 in a box for the child to stand upon so that all could 
 see her. 
 
 " And then a slight, blue-eyed girl, in a white dress, 
 white satin shoes, and a pink sash, appeared. 
 
 " At the piano sat her teacher ; and her father 
 stood by her side to turn the leaves of her music. 
 
 " But a moment before she had been carried away 
 with the pink sash and dainty satin shoes ; now she 
 put the violin to her shoulder, and stood ready to play.
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 " The tone came, strong, full and true. The notes 
 were in exact time. The people were hushed to a 
 painful silence. In his excitement her father turned 
 two leaves the small player inclined her head and 
 in a pretty, lisping whisper said : 
 
 " ' You've turned two pages, papa.' The page was 
 turned back without a pause, and the music went 
 on. It was a brilliant rendering of a most difficult 
 composition. 
 
 "It seemed as if the great musicians, the painters 
 and the people eu masse never would stop clapping and 
 cheering. The leader of the orchestra offered, in the 
 name of all the musicians, to crown her young head 
 with a wreath of roses. The attempt was amusing 
 the wreath slipped over her shoulders, and fell to the 
 floor, and there she stood in the midst of it ! 
 
 " Then they brought a wonderful Paris doll, and set 
 her quite wild with joy by presenting it to her. 
 
 "With the doll under one arm and the violin under 
 the other, she bowed her thanks from the middle of 
 the wreath. 
 
 "Then they cheered again and laughed and 
 stormed her with flowers."
 
 THE GIRL THAT HAD PATIENCE TO PRACTISE. 
 
 Mrs. Gordon paused. Madge and her associates 
 were on their feet. 
 
 "I am glad you told us we cannot guess only, 
 mamma, a great genius would not have had to do all 
 this," said Madge. 
 
 " Only genius would have been patient in other 
 words, patience and constant drill give genius wings," 
 answered Mrs. Gordon. 
 
 "Tell us, please, and we will practise like her, 
 without any more words," came frankly. 
 
 ^Camilla Urso" answered Mrs. Gordon.
 
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 whom the pictures are described in graphic language. In Glimpses of the World is 
 presented a grand panorama of England, Scotland, and Ireland, France, Germany, 
 Russia, Austria, Turkey, Italy, Spain, Asia, Africa, and North and South America. Un- 
 questionably the finest work of the kind ever printed. Buckram. Price, $4.5O. 
 
 THE WERNER POCKET ATLAS OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 A real pocket atlas 5x3^ inches, 96 pages, leatherette covers. Needed by every 
 tiaveling" man. ShonfcF l?c on every desk. Price, 10 cents. 
 
 THE CAPITOL COOK BOOK. 
 
 448 pages, 8^x6 inches ; weight, \% pounds ; over 1,400 tested recipes by HUGO ZIEMAN, 
 ex-steward of the White House, and the well-known expert, Mrs. F. I,. GILLETTR. 
 Illustrated. Price, 5O cents. 
 
 THE WALDORF COOK BOOK. 
 
 By " OSCAR " of the Waldorf. The most thorough and complete treatise on Practical 
 Cookery ever published. The author, OSCAR TSCHIRKY, Maitre d'Hotel, The Waldorf and 
 Astoria, is acknowledged to be one of the foremost culinary authorities of the world. 
 Elaborate directions are given for making ice creams, ices, pastries and tea and coffee. 
 Selections may be made to gratify any taste. Original and varied recipes are given for 
 making toothsome confections, preserves, jams, pickles and other condiments. Over 
 900 pages. Valuable information, indispensable to families, hotels, cafs and boarding 
 houses. Wholesome, palatable, economic and systematic cooking. Everything used as 
 food is fully considered. Nearly 4,000 recipes. The best and most comprehensive cook 
 book compiled. Special features, such as suggestions with regard to the kitchen, menus, 
 bills of fare, the seasons, market, etc., etc. Size, 8xio^ x 2^ inches. Bound in one 
 large octavo volume of over 900 pages in handsome oil cloth. Price, S3. 50. 
 
 THE STORY OF AMERICAN HEROISM. 
 
 As told by the Medal Winners and Roll of Honor men. A remarkable collection of 
 thrilling, historical incidents of personal adventures during and after the great Civil 
 War. Narratives by such heroes as Gen. LEW WALLACE, Gen. O. O. HOWARD, Gen. 
 ALEX. WEBB, Gen. FITZHTTGH I,EE, Gen. WADE HAMPTON. A war gallery of noted men 
 and events. A massive volume of over 700 pages, printed on fine calendered paper. 
 Illustrated with three hundred original drawings of personal exploits. English cloth, 
 emblematic design in gold and colors, $2.50. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of the advertised price. 
 
 THE WERNER COMPANY. Publishers, - Akron, 0.
 
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