Little Minnie, and other stories

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LITTLE MINNIE;



AND OTHER STORIES.



BY
PANSY.









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Sosion:
.9ublis4ed by T. Jotkrof 3& Co.
Over, .V. H.: G. T. Day &( Co.
























Copyright, 1876, by D. LOTrIROP & Co.






LITTLE MINNIE.
SHE stood in the cemetery beside a long green grave.
She had a bunch of wild flowers in her fat brown
hand.
I'm going to give them to papa," she said with a
bright smile to Uncle John who went over to talk with
her. My papa has gone to heaven, you know; but he
likes to have me bring him flowers. He used to kiss
me for them, always, but he can't now, 'cause he is so
busy helping the angels, but he is keeping all the kisses,
and when a nice summer day comes I am going after
them."
Do you know the way ?" Uncle John asked her.
"Oh, no; but the angel does. Jesus keeps angels
all ready to come down here, and when he wants any lit-
tle girl, he calls an angel and says, You go get that
little girl for me, and bring her up here, I have got
something for her.' Papa went a good while ago, and
sometimes mamma and I get most tired of waiting. I
asked mamma this morning if she thought he had for-
gotten us, because he had so many children; but she
said:
"'Oh, no, indeed! God had promised that he never
would forget.anybody;' and he won't, you know, 'cause
he never tells a lie. Do you know God ? "
Yes, my darling,. I know him very well."



































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PHO TO GRAP I'AS.

Then you don't think he'll ever go and forget, like
folks do sometimes? "
There isn't a bit of danger," Uncle John said, and
she gave a happy little sigh.
"Everybody says so that knows him," she said.
" Once I asked a man, and he said he didn't know any-
thing about it; but everybody who knows God thinks
just the same thing, and mamma thinks so; she says
she is sure of it; so I know it must be."


PHOTOGRAPHS.
DELL was to have her picture taken, to be given to
grandpa for his birthday. There was a great time about
it; she and her mother didn't agree. Dell wanted to
hold the great yellow cat in her arms and have her pic-
ture taken too.
Before I would hold that old yellow tabby on my
lap! her brother Willie said.
I would hold him a great deal quicker than I would
your dirty brown dog," said Dell, curling up her lips.
Grandpa doesn't like cats," ventured her mother.
He will like my cat," Dell said, and two wrinkles
came out on her forehead.
You will get cat hairs all over your new blue dress,"
said Auntie Kate.
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PHO TOGRAPIIS.

"If my dress is too good for Mink to sit on, I don't
want to wear it," said Dell, and she pouted out her lips.
The end of it was that she had her own way, and here
she is at the artist's rooms, waiting for her picture to be
taken. Her hair is waved beautifully, her ruffle is of
fine lace, her blue dress has shirred trimming on, and is
*fixed so that almost every shir will show. Her cat's
tail curls just right. But, oh dear me! the wrinkles
stayed in her forehead, and the curl stayed in her nose,
and the pout stayed in her lips! How could they help
it? for while she was waiting, this was what she
thought:
"The idea of Willie calling Mink an old yellow thing!
And just as if she would hurt my blue dress I'm not
afraid of a few of her hairs. It is real mean in them all
not to like Mink; I don't care, I've got her, and if
grandpa doesn't like my picture, he needn't have it."
The sour looks couldn't get away, you see, because the
sour heart was still there. When the picture came
home, and was shown to grandpa, he put on his glasses
and looked at it a long time without speaking a word.
At last he said:
I am glad you took the cat with you!"
Dell looked as glad as possible, and nodded her head
in triumph at her mother, but something in grandpa's
voice made her mother ask:
287





WHA T 7THE BIRDS SAID.

Why are you?"
Because," said grandpa, Dell looks so sober and
wrinkled; if the cat wasn't there, I am afraid people
would think she was an old lady. The cat is good-na-
tured, I see."


WHAT THE BIRDS SAID.
PART I.
SHE was a pretty girl. Her face is a little too sad as
you see it now, but this is New Year's morning, and her
birthday. Queer reasons for being sad, you think. But
sometimes they are good ones.
A great many things can happen in a year; this girl,
Fanny Eames, had a father and mother, and a home, last
New Year's day. Now her mother is buried in the At-
lantic Ocean, and her father in Greenwood Cemetery, and
the old home is broken, and Fanny lives in the country
with Aunt Margaret.
Just one live thing came from the dear home with her,
and that is the birdie standing on her finger. I can't be-
gin to tell how much Fanny loves him; they have long
talks together, and on this particular morning she puts
her lips softly to his beak and whispers:
My darling little Dickie bird It is just a year ago
this morning that papa put you in my room to surprise








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S1WHAT "771E BIR DS SAID.

me, and now you are all I have got left; do you hear,
Dickie? Papa is gone, and mamma is gone, and there
is nobody to love me, only you; and then the tears
came plashing down on Dickie's wings.
Chirp," he said. Chirp, chirp," in a soft, tender lit-
tle voice, as if it might have been meant for, Don't cry,
I love you."
Fanny was a girl who often looked grave and sad, but
seldom cried. So now she brushed away the tears, and
said, still speaking to Dickie:
It is a bad way to begin the year, crying, but it is
very lonesome to think of, Dickie, how you and I are all
alone, with nobody to love us or care much about us.
Aunt Margaret can't love us much, of course, for she
don't even remember much about mamma, her own sis-
ter; and she isn't a bit like her anyway; besides, she
doesn't have much time for loving; she has to make so
many comfortable. I hope they will make somebody
comfortable, I'm sure. I have to spell that word with a
u and an n before it, Dickie. That's what they are to
me. Oh dear! It would be so nice to have a friend.
One who could say more than 'chirp, chirp' and do
more than sing. I am so very, very lonesome, and years
are so long. I don't know what to do."
Hark! Had Dickie learned to speak! He stood
quite still and looked at her. Was it a voice, or was it
290




THAT THE BIRDS SAID.

the echo of an old lesson taught her by her mother in
the happy long ago ? It sounded very plain and clear.
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing ? And one
of them shall not fall on the ground without your Fa-
ther. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than many
sparrows.
Our Father! "-Fanny whispered the words over,
softly. It was strange that she should have forgotten,
and called herself alone, when she had a Father who
gave such loving care as that. Even watched the com-
mon little sparrows; then, of course, he took care of her
Dickie, who was so much better than a sparrow; then,
of course, he took care of her, who, with her thinking,
feeling, never-dying soul, was of more value than many,
many sparrows.
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered!"
Iow wonderful! She took hold of one of the long
- silky curls, and tried to count the hairs even in one curl.
How constant and patient must be the care that knew
even so little a thing as that!
How glad and happy that mother and father gone to
heaven must have felt as they looked down upon their
darling this New Year's morning, to think that they
taught her those Bible verses that had gathered to com-
fort her now. For they did comfort her. How could
291




WHAT T HE BIRDS SAID.

they help it, for she knew and loved that Father in
heaven.
She put Dickie gently back into his cage, and then she
knelt down, and thanked her Father for his constant
watching love and care, and for giving her such a blessed
friend as Jesus, and for letting her dear bird Dickie re-
mind her of it, this morning.
And she asked for help to begin the New Year well,
not in sadness for the past New Year's day, but in look-
ing forward to, and getting ready for, the glad New
Year's morning that should never end. Then she went
about her room singing softly:

If he hears the raven's cry,
If his ever watchful eye
Marks the sparrows when they fall,
Surely he will hear my call."

"Chirp, chirp," said Dickie, contentedly, in his cage;
and that was all he knew about it.








292






WHAT THE BIRDS SAID.
PART II.

ON that same New Year's morning Clara and Trudie
Brownlow popped their heads out of the window and
watched a fat little bird eat its breakfast, and as they
looked they talked they were always talking.
I wonder if this is a Bible sparrow? said Trudie,
with her head on one side.
A Bible sparrow Trudie Brownlow, what do you
mean? There isn't anything in the Bible about spar-
rows.
Yes, there is, too; there's one thing that I know
more than you do, if you are four years and three
months and two weeks and five days the oldest." You
see, she knew very well, indeed, the difference in their
ages ; the truth is, Clara kept her posted.
"Well, come now," Clara said, "what is there in the
Bible about sparrows? I should just like to know
that."
I don't quite remember; it is all mixed up in my
mind, but I know it's there. If you think I don't know,
you go ask mother."
In popped the two heads; down-stairs racketed two
pairs of shoes, and two breathless girls spoke at once to
the woman who was feeding a big turkey.
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THE ITTL PEW1O-E-,




WHAT THE BIRDS SAID.

Mother, isn't there a verse in the Bible about spar-
rows ?"
Mother, is there a word about sparrows in the
Bible ? "
Why, yes, of course; here, thread this needle, Tru-
die, so I can sew up this turkey's mouth; he's had
enough."
Where is it?" asked crestfallen Clara; she was a girl
who was particularly fond of being right; and Trudie's
triumphant, I told you so," was aggravating.
My land, child! I don't remember. Ask your un-
cle, or look in the concordance. Sarah, you must get
those cranberries on right away or they won't get real
cold. Come, scud, children, there's business to be done
here to-day."
Away scampered the girls, eager to get their uncle or
a concordance; one would do as well as the other. He
was in the study, and I may as well tell you he was the
new minister; but he looked in the concordance himself,
before he answered their questions as to where. At this
they were somewhat astonished; they stood in awe of
this uncle, were very little acquainted with him, and
thought that, being a minister, he ought to know where
Bible verses were without looking.
Luke, twelve, six," he presently said, and the two
girls raced after their Bibles. There they read:
205




WHAT TIIE BIRDS SAID.

Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not
one of them is forgotten before God ? But even the very
hairs of your head are all numbered."
My!" said Trudie, feeling of her thick yellow curls.
" Only think, Clara, what a thing to do."
Clara' said not a single word, and she shut the Bible
suddenly and went away. I cannot begin to tell you
how strangely she felt; there had come to her such a
sense of that great and wonderful eye of God, looking
down at her all the time, watching every word and step.
She went away by herself into the sitting-room, and took
down from the shelf two little white boxes filled with
pink cotton. Under the pink cotton, in each box, was a
little gold pen.
Now let me tell you about them. This is New Year's
morning, remember, and among other things had come
to these two girls these two pens, given by a father who
was very proud, indeed, of the writing which his two
girls could already do. Now, anybody who has tried
gold pens knows that there is a wonderful difference in
the way they behave. Clara had tried both of these, of
course; she always tried things.
She had made a discovery, that the one in the box
marked Clara" made a little scratchy sound that was
very disagreeable, and that the one in the box marked
"Trudie" slipped along over the paper as if it were
296




WHAT THE BIRDS SAID.

glass. The pens were as like as two peas, and it was the
easiest and most natural thing in the world to conclude
that she, being the oldest, ought to have the best, and to
slip her's into Trudie's pink cotton, and Trudie's into
hers.
Now, she stood looking at them, and going over the
arguments :
I'm the oldest, and of course I ought to have the
best pen. I write three times to Trudie's once; and she
doesn't know a good pen from a bad one, anyway; she'll
be perfectly delighted with that. They are just exactly
alike, anyhow, and papa just happened to write Trudie's
name there instead of mine. Of course he didn't know
there was any difference; if he had, he would have been
sure to say that I ought to have the best one." So she
shut the boxes once more, and went to the window.
"There's that fat sparrow eating yet," she said. He
means to keep New Year's, anyhow. 'And not one of
them is forgotten before God.' "
She said the words over aloud, and reverently. How
wonderful it was. Then the next sentence about the
hair she remembered that, too; and if he saw such
little, little things, wasn't it likely he thought about all
the things we did. What did God think of those two
gold pens, done up in pink cotton ? That was the im-
portant question.
297




CHINESE.

Papa didn't know there was any difference; but she
did, and God did. Two people to know it, when she had
imagined only one. It certainly made a difference.
It was very still in that little sitting-room for a while.
Clara seemed to be doing nothing but looking out of the
window at that sparrow, but presently she went over to
the white boxes, and with quick, decided fingers picked
out the two pens and exchanged their beds and rooms in
a twinkling.
There! she said, decidedly. Scratch, if you want
to; it's honest, anyhow; and the other thing wasn't, or
else I wouldn't have cared so much about having Him
know it."
And the fat sparrow picked at his crumbs of bread,
and knew nothing about all this. But the Father of
both, looking down from his throne, saw and heard and
knew about it all.


CHINESE.
I DON'T believe you can guess whether this is a boy or
a girl. Whoever it is, doesn't he or she wear a queer
hat ? Is it a hat or a parasol ? Isn't that a queer way
to carry baskets of fruit and flowers ? Do you suppose
that is a water-melon ? Let's take a bite of it and see.
Now I'll tell you, this is a girl. Where does she live ?
Why, across the ocean in China. She has got herself
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CHINESE.

dressed up, so that I suppose she thinks she looks very
neat and nice, and she has gone out to sell her flowers.
Roses, they look like; great, splendid roses. Don't you
smell them ?
What in the world do you suppose all those chains
are for around her waist? Perhaps she thinks they look
pretty. I can't make out how she keeps her hat on; if
it is a hat.
I wish we could see her feet, I want to know whether
they are more than four inches long; don't you? Per-
haps she had a mother who was not so silly as to bind
up her poor little baby footie, so it couldn't grow any
more. That is the fashion in China. Aren't you glad
that you don't live there ?
They are very queer people. A friend of mine, who
lives in California, has a Chinaman for her servant to do
house-work. How do you think he sprinkles clothes for
ironing? You know how that is done, with a little
broom, or with the hand, make the water go in a fine
mist all over the clean clothes, so they will be nice and
damp for the next day's ironing.
Well, my friend showed her man how to do it, and he
seemed to get along very well, but going into the work-
room suddenly, one day, she discovered that he thought
he had found a better way than that. She stood and
watched him behind the door. He filled his mouth full
,300





AN UMBRELLA FROLIC.

of water from the dipper, then he squirted it in a little
stream all over the clothes! How would you like to
wear a white dress that had been sprinkled in this way?


AN UMBRELLA FROLIC.
They were two nice sober-looking umbrellas. They
stood behind the front door. The girls, Susy and Kate,
and their two cousins, Emma and Laura, came out ready
for a walk to town.
"Girls," called mamma, "take umbrellas; it looks like
rain."
"I don't want to go," said the brown umbrella. We
always have to be poking to town in the rain! never
have a chance of peeping out in pleasant weather. I'm
sick of it. Were you ever out in the sunshine ? "
I don't remember that I ever was," the other um-
brella said, and it gave a little sigh. But then, of
course, we were made for rainy weather. Who needs
umbrellas in the sunshine? "
I don't care," grumbled the other. I think it's
mean. We never go anywhere where there is any fun,
either; always poking to the post-office, or to school. I
want to go to the woods, or have a ride on the lake;
there would be some fun in that. If I go down town
this afternoon, I'll have a frolic, you see if I don't.
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AN UMBRELLA FROLIC.


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There's going to be a gale; I see it through the key-
hole. I'll turn inside out just as sure as I'm an um-
brella if they take me out this afternoon."
What good will that do you ?"
Oh, good! You are always looking out for the good
of things! I wouldn't be so stupid! I've made up my
mind to have a little fun. You see if I don't lead those
girls a life of it! "
Sure enough! There they go down town; Susie and
Laura ahead, and the others behind. Susie carried, or
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AN UMBRELLA FROLIC.





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tried to carry, the sulky umbrella. If you look at it, you
will see it's idea of fun.
How that creature did act! It whirled and tipped,
and swayed this side and that; it turned the girls right
round and round; it blew them out into the mud, and
almost into the river; and finally it turned inside out,
and left the rain to pour down on them!
Then I suppose it laughed in umbrella fashion! As
for the other one, it was quiet and well behaved. A
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AN U(AIBREZLLA FROLIC.

dreadful time those two girls had; and when they
reached home they were as wet as ducks.
The very first thing they did, after their wet dresses
were changed, was to take that umbrella up in the back
attic and throw it into a corner. And as it so happened
that nothing was wanted from that particular quarter for
two or three weeks, not a person did the umbrella see,
and a stupid time it must have had.
One day, much to its joy, there was a great deal of
scampering up and down stairs, and getting of bundles
and packages out of that attic.
What can be going on ? said the umbrella, trying
to turn on its rusty sides. If I only weren't turned in-
side out, I could see what those girls are about."
Just then came a call from the foot of the stairs:
Girls, bring umbrellas with you, and we'll sail home
by their help; there is a nice stiff breeze."
Oh, goody!" Susie said. "Won't that be just
splendid! I have always wanted a sail on the lake, but
father never would let me ride in a sail boat."
Then they caught sight of the old umbrella lying
meekly in a corner.
If that old thing hadn't gone inside out that windy
day, and acted so horrid, we could take it too; it was a
nice large one." This Kitty said.
And Susie stopped and gave it a parting glance:
304





WHO TOLD THE SECRET'

Well, its day is done," she said ; "never mind, we'll
take the other."
And there that umbrella lay, and listened to the talk,
and the laughs that were going on down-stairs! and had
the pleasure of thinking that if it had not tried to get up
a frolic, when it should have been attending to its work,
it might have a sail on the lake now in the brightest
sunshine that ever was! Many a frolic ends quite as
foolishly as that. It's a queer thing, but there truly are
some boys and girls who don't seem to know any more
than this umbrella!


WHO TOLD THE SECRET?
JUST notice the pin that fastens this young lady's
sack; it is a real diamond, and glitters and flashes in
the sunlight in a way that would make you fancy there
were a dozen little fires glowing inside. It is rather a
cold storm in which to be out in that little sack, but if
my lady had her thick coat and muffler on, the pin
wouldn't show; so she must needs brave the storm.
She is by no means in a happy state of mind. Great
has been her trial over that same diamond pin. She
has been gone since early in the afternoon, and from the
time she slipped out at the back door, until she neared
home again, she had not seen a truly happy minute.
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WHO TOLD THE SECRET?

The story of her discomfort could all be put in
a nutshell: the diamond pin did not belong to her
and she had no right to wear it! Reason enough for
misery.
At least three times that afternoon all the blood had
seemed to rush up to her head, as she felt for the pin
and could not find it; to be sure it was simply because,
being unused to having any pin there, she did not feel in
the right place, but for the moment she suffered just as
much pain as though the gleaming thing was actually
gone.
The road from the village never seemed so long in
the world, as it did that day; the walk was very unsat-
isfactory. It stormed so that nobody worth showing her
pin to was out, and the few people she met seemed not
to see it at all; in fact, the wind blew her umbrella
about in just the right way to hide it the best; besides,
she missed her coat and furs, and was thoroughly chilled
and uncomfortable.
I don't think she ever felt more relieved in her life
than she did when she succeeded in getting in at the
back door, pin in hand, and up the back stairs, through
the long, dark, back hall, to her Aunt Nellie's room, and
had stuck the glowing pin into the fat red cushion where
it belonged.
"There !" she said; you hateful old thing; I'm so
G}07




IWHIO TOLD THE SECRET?

glad you are stuck fast in that sawdust once more! I
didn't think diamond pins were so awful uncomfortable.
I'm sure I never shall want one of my own. Nobody
knows anything about it, and I'll never be caught in
such a scrape as this again. I wouldn't have Aunt Nel-
lie know it for anything. Well, it is safe, and there is
no harm done. But I wouldn't have such a mean after-
noon again for all the diamond pins in the world. I'm
glad nobody need ever know a thing about it."
And drawing a long relieved sigh she stole out of the
room and down to the sitting-room, where she shivered
over the fire all the evening. Now the truth of the mat
ter is, that of course Miss Ella Newton didn't see what
was going on in that same room, while she was at the
post-office.
In the first place, Aunt Nellie Thatcher did what she
hardly ever had to do, went up to her room in the mid-
dle of the afternoon. Ella had trusted to the fact that
when her Auntie was fairly dressed for the afternoon,
and established in the sitting-room with her mother, she
rarely left it again until tea-time. How could she know
that on this particular afternoon Aunt Nellie would for-
get her scarlet worsted, and go in search of it?
This was what happened: being far away from home
and rather lonely at night, Aunt Nellie had begged for
her young namesake for a room-mate. The first thing
308




WHO TOLD THE SECRET?

the lady did, as she entered the room, was to sniff up
her pretty little nose in the way that people do when
they smell something very decided.
Jockey Club!" said Aunt Nellie; that little midget
has been at my bottle of perfumery. No particular harm
about that, except that I heard her mother tell her ex-
pressly not to meddle with my things; it isn't pleasant
to discover that a little girl forgets to mind her mother,
when she thinks no one is looking. But I suppose the
child forgot. My little lady must have made her toilet
in haste. She has left the washstand in a sad plight."
And the auntie proceeded to turn the dirty water left
standing in the bowl into the slop jar. As she did so,
sniff went her nose again:
Cashmere Bouquet Soap!" she said, and her face
looked grave.
The Cashmere Bouquet Soap was an article belonging
to her own private toilet case, carried along for hotel
convenience and not brought out when she was.a guest
at a private house; yet here it was with its peculiar
breath, in the muddy-looking water, as plainly shown as
though the whole cake lay there, when in truth it lay at
that moment, as Aunt Nellie took pains 'to discover, in
her rubber toilet case, very moist and sticky. And the
toilet case had been under the second till in the large
trunk!
.2X)




WiO TOLD THE SECRET?

What rummaging had been going on! While she
closed the washstand drawer, with a troubled face, the
trouble deepened, and she opened the drawer again to
take a full view; yes, there was her namesake's little
camel's hair tooth-brush a present from herself, and
all over the tell-tale bristles there glistened a pink pow-
der, and the handle was pink in spots and sticky. Her
own peculiar rose-flavored tooth powder which was
packed in a little jar in the corner of the small trunk.
Why, what a dreadful little meddler!" she said in
dismay; who would have thought of such a thing! I
wonder if I left my diamond pin in the trunk that is un-
locked?"
Then she went to rummaging in all haste and excite-
ment. A diamond pin was no small matter. Yes, there
was the fat little pincushion belonging solely to it, but
no glitter of diamonds about it. There was a story con-
nected with that diamond pin, and, aside from its value,
it was dearer to Aunt Nellie than any other jewel she had.
She walked about the room in considerable excite-
ment for some minutes; feeling as if she must rush
down-stairs and tell her husband's sister that her little
girl was an impertinent little nuisance, to say the least,
and that her pin must be sent for right away.
But she presently thought better of it, and went down-
stairs as though nothing had happened; only keeping a
310




WHO TOLD THE SECRET?

sharp lookout for the little girl who had gone to the
post-office, and darting up-stairs two minutes after Ella
had given her great sigh of satisfaction that "nobody
knew anything about it."
Yes, there was the beloved pin on it's red cushion,
gleaming away, not a bit the worse for having gone
down street in the snow-storm. Aunt Nellie gave a lit-
tle sigh, too, as she saw it, and then she told the result
of this afternoon discovery to the twilight shadows that
were stealing into the room.
It is a wonder the careless little thing did not lose it.
Who would suppose that she was such a meddler ? So
careful as her mother is to teach her. I shall have to
give up my scheme for taking her home with me for the
rest of the winter; it wouldn't do at all. I should never
dare to go out of the house and leave her. Besides, I
don't care about such a girl coming to influence my little
Nina.
Think of that! and Aunt Nellie lived in one of the
very grand houses, on one of the very grand streets of
New York, and had a pipe organ in the library, and was
going to have had Ella take music lessons. But she,
you know, stood shivering behind the sitting-room stove,
and feeling very glad that neither Aunt Nellie nor any
one else knew anything about the walk that the diamond
pin took. And for all I know she thinks so to this day.
311






MISS FANNIE IN A REVERIE.
DOES oo sink that New Year's
Somesing like our baby ?
S'pose he kies a few tears
For some playsings, maybe?
Sink he'd freeze his foots,
In this winter weazer;
'Less he has big boots,
Like my little brother.

Kibmus came the ozzer day;
Brought old Santa in his sleigh.
Brought my doll, and Charlie's drum;
Rings for all; did you get some ?
Sings so funny! Don't you know how,
Who makes money? Tell me now?
Where does Santa get so much,
To buy sings for each of us ?

Brother Charlie beats his drum,
Makes it rattle, just like fun;
Where does moosic come from, s'pose?
Dess you'd find old Santa knows.
Sought I'd find it, ozzer day,
Brother Charlie was away;
312




AE'TTIE'S TRIAL.

I tut a hole 'n it- very small,-
Just a place for ittie doll.

Guess I let the moosic out;
Couldn't find it, nowhere 'bout.
You s'pose Charlie'll think it queer?
P'raps he'll think 'twas Dollie dear.
'Fraid I've spoiled my brother's drum,-
'Fraid he'll cry, when he tomes home!
Guess he'll give his sister, though,
Just as Jesus does, you know!


NETTIE'S TRIAL.
NETTIE watched her mamma as she lifted the glass
dish and the silver dish to their place on the sideboard.
May I have some, mamma ?" she said, eagerly, the
minute they were safely landed.
Mamma shook her head. "Why, no, child," she said;
"you have had your share of fruit to-day; or, let me see;
why, I didn't give you your apple and orange, did I ? I
was thinking you had those to-day; well, you may have
one of each kind; get a chair and help yourself."
Now if mamma Thorton had waited until Nettie an-
swered her questions, instead of answering them herself
as fast as she asked them, and then shutting the door
313








'I ---F--


Jill -| -1 -


























I _
,,





A'7TT/E'S TRiAL.

and going away, I feel quite sure that Nettie would have
said :
Why, yes, it was this very morning that I had both
apple and orange."
As it was, she stood quite still and looked at those
dishes of fruit.
How funny," she said, that mamma should forget
so; now I never forget what I give Angelina Seraphina,
and she hasn't any mouth that is good for anything,
either. I always have to eat her fruit for her. How
splendid those grapes do look. I wish mamma had said
two of each kind. Of course I am going to have them.
Didn't mamma say I could? "
This last sentence she said in a very indignant tone,
though who she could have been answering, I am sure I
don't know, for there wasn't a soul in the room but her-
self, and a fly or two. Yet it was plainly to be seen that
Nettie was having a talk with somebody.
I didn't tell her I didn't have any orange this morn-
ing. I wouldn't tell a lie, I guess; she said so her own
self; it was a mean old sour one, too; I'd rather have
grapes any day."
By this time one fat brown hand was reached out
toward the grapes. Then she drew it back again.
I don't see how I am to blame for mamma's not
knowing that I had fruit this morning."
015





NE TTIE'S TRIAL.

This she said in a pitiful tone, as though she was very
much slandered. Who was blaming her, do you sup-
pose ?
"An apple and an orange aren't much to have in a
day anyhow. I know lots of girls who eat more than
that; 'sides the orange was sour. Grapes are good for
sore throat. I heard Dr. Nelson say so."
What all that had to do with it, since her throat
wasn't sore, I am sure I don't know. At last Nettie be-
gan to draw great long sighs.
Oh, dear me!" she said; "oh, dear me suz! why
need mamma have thinked out loud; why didn't she
keep all the thinks inside, about my having an apple and
an orange, and just said: 'Yes, Nettie, my dear, you may
have one of each kind.' Then everything would have
been nice, and nothing to decide; it is dreadful to have
to decide things; I'd rather have her say, No, you
can't have a single one.' Then I should just be sure
that that was the end of it. Oh my sakes, what is the
use of saying things over and over? I know I had an
apple and an orange as well as you do; didn't I say so?
And I know mamma forgot it, too; isn't that what I am
talking about? "
And Nettie stamped her foot and began to look very
red-cheeked indeed. Could it have been that great fly in
the window who buzzed about the apple and orange?
316





f\T7iE'/FS T7YfAL.

What I say is," began Nettie again, that mamma
said I could have some of this, and she didn't ask me if
I had eaten any fruit to-day, and I didn't tell her I
hadn't, and I don't see why I can't have some. Such a
fuss about one grape; that is all I want."
Up went the slippered feet on tip-toe, out went the
brown hand again, and again it drew back; that fly
buzzed very loud indeed. Could it be that he was doing
the talking? Some one surely spoke loud enough for
Nettie to hear. This was what it said:
You know your mamma ftinks you haven't had any
fruit to-day. You know she does -you know she does
- you know she does." Nettie shook herself.
I didn't say I hadn't," she said; "how can I help
what mamma thinks? "
Up spoke the fly again (or the something):
God can see folks' thougzhs. You saw your mam-
ma's, for she said them to you, but God can look right
into your heart, and see yours; you haven't said that it
was wrong to take the fruit, but haven't you thought it
in your heart? God can see thoughts. God can see
thoughts."
Over and over, this was said, and the fly buzzed, and
Nettie stood there on tiptoe, her brown arm reached out,
the tips of her fingers touching a great purple grape. In
at the open window flew a brown honey bee; he lighted
817





NOTHING BUT LEA VES.

on the trailing vine that hung from the jar, and what do
you think he said ? What but the same old story:
God can see thoughts. God can see thoughts."
Nettie drew away her hand and said in a loud voice:
"I won't take one; so there. I know I ought to mind
thinks as well as words when I can hear them; and I
heard mamma's plain enough, and I'm sure I hear
mine. Don't buzz any more, old fly. I'm not going to
touch one of your grapes."
There was something happened then that Nettie
didn't see, and knows nothing about; there was an an-
gel in the room, looking right at her, and he was so
happy just then that he laughed for joy, and he told
ever so many other angels all about Nettie's trial, and
they all agreed that she would be a stronger little girl
after this than ever before, and that she should have
some work to do that she could not have been trusted
with if she had paid no attention to those thoughts that
buzzed about her so earnestly.


NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
MINNIE PARKER'S dress was very pretty; it was light
gray poplin, with a black overskirt, and basque; trimmed
with double puffs. Her hair was beautifully crimped,
and fell nearly to her waist in rich brown waves. That
31 S













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01W III I .
i J il l
''; ,,i




, Jl
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'i]



T;d 1.


IF
,.x !,, ? .., ,,
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NOTHING TU' LEA i;ES.

is she sitting on the grass, her hat beside her half full
of flowers. Her particular friend, Anna Jamison, stands,
hoop in hand, waiting for her.
Now, see here, Carlo," said Minnie, I want you to
understand that you are not to stare at me and blink
your eyes; when I tell you to say A,' you are to say it."
Oh, do please come, Minnie," Anna said, it is al-
most time for me to go; and we haven't had one good
game this afternoon."
Do wait, can't you? I don't want to be hurried
every minute. Now, Carlo, say A this instant."
Minnie," called Mrs. Parker from the open window,
" come here, daughter."
Yes'm, in a minute," called back Minnie. Then she
said, Oh, dear! I do wish mamma didn't always want
me the minute I have anything interesting to do. Carlo,
why can't you attend to me ?"
He don't know what you mean," pleaded Anna.
"Yes, he does, too; he's as smart a dog as ever
was, when he's a mind to be. I'm out of all patience
with him. There!" and she gave the poor, patient
dog a good box on his ears. Minnie," called her
mother.
Oh, mamma what do you want?" she said, very
crossly. I'm coming in a minute, I tell you." It was
well for Minnie that her mother couldn't hear her.
320





S7 THING BUT LEA VES.

Minnie Parker, you're all leaves," said Anna, with
great gravity.
All leaves !" Minnie said, rising suddenly, and shak-
ing out her gray poplin she was very particular about
her dress. Why, Anna Jamison What in the world
do you mean ? There isn't a leaf near me."
Yes, there is lots of 'em, and not a bit of fruit to be
seen. Uncle Fred explained it to us the lesson, you
know. He made two trees on a slate; one was full of
figs, and the other had 'nothing but leaves.' The figs
were named 'love' and 'joy' ard 'peace,' and those
things ; and Uncle Fred said the other tree was a little
girl all dressed up, who hadn't any fruit. I don't think
you are very loving, or you would do what I wanted;
and you'd mind your mother, too; and you aren't very
joyful, you look real cross; and I don't think it is very
peaceful to send Carlo off barking and howling. But
your dress is pretty and so is your hair; you're just all
leaves and not a.speck of fruit to be seen."
That's nothing but a story," said Minnie. But she
picked up her hat and went very thoughtfully into the
house.





321






SOME WISE CATS.

DID you ever hear the story of the wonderful cat who
lived in a handsome country house, just a few miles out
of London? Here is an actual photograph of the Tabby
herself.
Lest you may not be acquainted with her, let me tell
you the story. You must know that in her master's
house there has been a place left in a side wall, like a
little shelf, where the butcher, and baker, and milkman,
can leave their bundles, or their pails, and ring the bell
for the servant to come.
Miss Tabby had watched this performance a great
many times, and this is what she thought, when one cold
rainy day she prowled around that way:
"I wish I was in the kitchen; there's a nice warm
fire, and something good cooking, of course, and a dish
of milk waiting for me as likely as not; but I can't get
in, till somebody leaves the door open; or, let me see, I
wonder, if I can't? There's that great bell; the milk-
man and the meat-man always ring it, and just as sure
as they do, Jane opens the door to see what is wanted.
That must be what the bell is for. Why shouldn't I
ring it as well as anyone ? I'm sure I want to get in."
No sooner thought than done. Out went Miss Tab-
by's paw, and ting-a-ling went the servant's bell sounding
through the great house. Just imagine what the cook
322



























iiI~ I'




SOME W1/ISE CA TS.

must have thought as she hurried to open the door, and
saw the cat standing quietly there waiting for admittance.
Now I am not acquainted with that cat; but I suppose
the story is true, for people who are apt to tell the truth
have said that it is. But since we are on the subject,
let me tell you a cat story that I know is true.
A few years ago, there was a cat who lived out West
somewhere, where rats are very plenty. They kept get-
ting into the barn, and stealing the grain, and troubling
the farmer very much. So he explained the matter to
Snub (that was the cat's name), and, said he:
Now, Snub, if you will catch every rat you see, and
bring her to me, we will save their skins to make some-
thing nice of, and you shall have a dish of milk for every
rat."
It's a bargain," said Snub; at least she purred very
loud, and looked pleased; and she was true to her word.
Day after day she came to the farmer with a rat in
her mouth, sometimes almost as large as herself, and
she would drop it at his feet, and look perfectly delighted
with herself. She always got her milk and her word of
praise.
It so happened that the place chosen for hanging the
rat-skins to dry was the great barn door. And, don't you
think, Snub worked away until there were seventeen rat
skins tacked to that barn door.
324




SOJ.IAf WISEY CATS.

But one day everything had gone wrong with Farmer
Brown; it had rained on his hay, and on his nice dry
wood, and the man who was coming to help build fence
didn't come, and one of the horses was lame, and a
man came to say that he couldn't possibly pay for his
butter for a month to come.
While Farmer Brown was looking cross at that man,
and waiting for him to explain what was the matter, up
came Snub with another rat; and she meowed and
meowed, in a most exasperating way, and seemed to
think Farmer Brown ought to drop all thoughts of
money and attend to her. Finally she made herself so
much of a nuisance that he did attend to her.
Get out!" he said, and he lifted his foot and gave
her a very gentle little kick; what are you yelling
around me for? Scat! "
Now what do you think Snub did! You would
hardly believe it, but it is really true. After going away
a few feet and sitting down, and blinking her astonished
green eyes at the cross man for a minute, she went
straight to the barn door, and she scratched, and she
clawed, and she bit, until she got every single rat-skin
down; then she carried them, one by one, and dropped
them in the spring behind the barn. When she had fin-
ished this amiable job, she sat down on a bag of oats,
licked her face, and looked as though she wanted to say:
325




THE SILLY LITTLE FISH.

"There! catch your own rats after this if you want
them."
A critic, looking over my shoulder, says just here:
I don't see where the moral comes in with this story.
I thought you would have nothing in the Pansy but that
taught a moral lesson."
Now, little Pansies, think of his not being able to see
the lesson. Perhaps he thinks that spitefulness doesn't
look badly, even in a cat;, but aren't you a little bit
ashamed even of poor Snub ? But what if he had been
a boy with a soul, and done something very like that ?
Oh, dreadful!
Now I think of it, isn't it a strange thing that Farmer
Brown couldn't be cross a little while, without leading
even a cat to do wrong? I do suppose she wouldn't
have been spiteful, if it hadn't been for Farmer Brown's
ill-humor. But what if that same ill-humor had led a lit-
girl, with a soul, to do something that was wrong? Oh,
dreadful!
The trouble with the moral is, a piece of it is for
grown people: and grown people don't like morals, you
know.

THE SILLY LITTLE FISH.
ONCE there was a silly little fish who lived in a lovely
glass globe, in a lovely parlor; and flopped and flounced
326





7THE SILL Y LITTLE FISI.






I ,I




I 41 II I
















1.7






about all day long, because he couldn't get out and live
on the carpet.
Of course he couldn't have lived an hour on the car-
pet, but the silly little fish didn't know that; he thought
327




THE SILL Y LITTLE FISH.

he was wiser than anybody else, and that the carpet was
a lovely bright-colored house, and it was very hard and
cruel to keep him from swimming about on it.
He tried his best to get out; he flopped himself
against the side of the globe, .with such force that he
almost broke his fin, but the globe wouldn't let him out.
Then he tried to jump out, he tried it ever.so many
times a day, for a great many days, but he couldn't do it,
and so he was cross about half the time.
One unlucky morning, Anna, who had the charge of
the globe, filled it a little fuller than usual with nice
fresh water, and the minute she went out of the room,
up popped the silly fish, and, with one good strong
flounce, out he came on the marble block on which the
globe stood. He thought that was a pretty cold place;
and he was trying to plan how to get to the carpet,
when who should spring from the hearth to the sofa, and
from the sofa to the table, but green-eyed Tabby!
The silly little fish never got to the carpet, for Tabby
killed him in less time than it takes me to tell it, and ate
him up. If he had only been content to hop around in
that nice cool fresh water, what a lovely home he might
have had; and Tabby would have eyed him in vain! If
he had only known what an enemy she was, and how
steadily she was watching him every day!
328







-. *-





A__










A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.



CHAPTER I.
WHAT STARTED IT.

IT all popped into their heads on a rainy Friday even-
ing; they were twins, and they were brother and sister,
and they were to be ten years old on the fourth day of
July, 1876. And whatever they couldn't plan wasn't
worth planning! Their names were George and Martha
Washington Meyers. They were named after the father
and mother of their country. They-lived in the village
S329





A CENTTR FILLE CETENA7;IAL.

of Centerville. So much for their former history; now
for what they did.
In the first place they sat in a corner of the great old-
fashioned sofa and looked at the picture in a paper that
had been brought in with the evening mail.
What a fuss they make about the Centennial, any-
way! said Martha. What's the use? I don't under-
stand it, do you ? What are they going to have down
there in Philadelphia? "
Have!" said George Washington, loftily; "why,
everything. Machinery, you know, and flowers, and all
sorts of improvements; things that have been made in
the last hundred years."
"Flowers haven't been made in that time," said Martha.
No, but then they always have flowers everywhere,
and besides, there's new kinds."
"We have been made in the last hundred years," said
Martha. I think we ought to be there."
"That's so; but then there's lots of others just like
us; that's the trouble; if they took all of us, there would
be no room for locomotives and things. They only have
one of a kind."
I'd like to be the one of a kind. Wouldn't you ?
Wouldn't it be funny ? Perhaps they'd put us in a case
to be looked at; it would have to be you, too; 'cause
we belong together."
330






A CEAVTER VILLE CENTENNIAL.







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crack down the' middle."
,h.. '. l ... .. . .. ,. ., . -, ., . . ,_ i t ] ,
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I3




A CEATTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

I don't know; the powder, maybe. They rung it,
you know, the day the Declaration of Independence was
made. I declare if this bell isn't made out of it "
Out of what ? "
"Why, out of the Declaration. Look! it is little fine
letters, and it says, 'When, in the course of human
events,' and all that, you know."
Did you ever read it all through ?"
No; dunno as I ever did."
Let's read it," said Martha, and at it they went. If
the men who wrote it could have heard what these two
wise ones said about it, they would have thought
longer over some of the sentences.
What fibs it tells!" George said, after awhile.
"Great fuss they made about freedom! Then they went
and had slaves for years and years; till Abraham Lin-
coln wrote his name on a piece of paper, one day, and
then says I, the Declaration of Independence meant
something."
It's dreadful fine print," said Martha ; "it makes my
eyes ache. But then I like it; I feel real cold, away
down to my toes, when I read some of it; and when I
feel cold that way, I know things are good."
See all those stars; don't they look pretty? They
stand for all the States. Let's count 'em and see if they
made a mistake."
332





A CENT'ERVILLE CENTENNIAAL.

So that was the next thing done. George got around
first.
No, ma'am; none of 'em left out. They're all on
hand. Oh, look at this big building! wouldn't I like to
see that! Look at that big dome on the top, and there
is a man standing on it; no, it's a woman her name


















is Columbia. This building is to put the pictures in. I
Should think it would hold a jolly lot of 'em. My sakes!
:hink of a door being fifteen feet wide! "
I don't know how wide that is," said Martha, shak-
ing her head as though fifteen feet of door was too much
for her.
Well, now, let's calculate: three feet make a yard,
333
33.3




A CENTER VILLE CENTENNIAL.

and fifteen feet would be five yards, wouldn't it ? and
this carpet is a yard wide, mother said; and there's five
strips of it; so there's your door, just exactly as wide
as this room."
Oh, my! said the mother of her country. She could
say no more.
There's three of them," continued George Washing-
ton. "All the same size; well, I guess there will be
room enough for all the folks to get in!"
I just wish I was one of them," murmured Martha.
She did not mean she wished she was one of the
doors.
As for George, he turned to another picture.
Ha! he said, here is the place where I want to be;
they might have all their pictures, if I could see the big
engines and things that they will have in this roon.
'Philadelphia U. S. America.' That's what it reads
on it. Then down a little lower in says 'International
Exhibition.' "
"What does International' mean ?" asked Martha.
Well," said the father of his country, looking wise,
" I don't feel quite sure; but I think it means the inside
of things. Inter,' like 'into,' you know; that might
mean 'look inside.' "
Oh," said Martha. She was satisfied.
That great big engine will be scudding around in
334





A CENTERVILLE CENTEVNNIAL.

there, I suppose," continued George; "and the sewing
machines, and the new writing machines, and oh, every
kind of machine you can think of."
I wouldn't give a fig to see Mll those," said Martha;
"what's the use ? you can see a big engine any time, by
just going down to the depot; and as for sewing ma-

pRILDA PHIcA-U Sj I -CA A"AY-- TO -NI -s7 1O0'I6

i : : -_ ---_ -- : --_ ^ -g - ---- -.- - -- -_ '







V---



chines, why, dear me! everybody, who has anything at
all, has one of them; I'm sure we've got two in our
house; and you know Mr. Edwards has the new writing
machine, and he let me write my name on it the other
day: Martha Washington Meyers, Centerville,' I wrote,
as plain as print; why, it is print, you know. Most
everything can be seen without going there to see it after
a]."
335




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

"Oh, well," said George Washington, and he drew a
long sigh; "you are a girl; and girls never care for ma-
chinery; they don't understand it; I suppose that's the
reason; but I say, I would give more to see the buz-
zing, whizzing things they will have there in that big
hall than to see all the pictures and flowers in the world.


Ph LADEI PHIA, U. S. AMERICA <;-, MAY 10 to NOVEMBER 10. 187M.












But, then, there's no use in talking," and he turned the
paper.
Oh! oh! oh!" shouted George Washington and
Martha Washington, both at once. And each oh was
louder than the last; for they had been looking at the a
pictures backward, just as people often see things; and
now they had come to the Main Exhibition Building,"
the size of which so amazed them that for awhile all the
remarks they could make were those three ohs." These
336




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

pictures I am giving you are only bird's-eye views of
the ones that George and Martha had; in order to make
room for the story, we had to squeeze the pictures.
It says it is a par-al-lel-o-gram," pronounced Martha,
stopping before each syllable long enough to turn it over
in her mind. Now what can that mean? "
You go get the dictionary and let's look." So these
two sensible patriots dragged the Unabridged Webster
to the sofa, and went in search of knowledge. George
Washington found the place and studied over it with
great wrinkles on his forehead, for a few minutes, then
read aloud:
It's a 'right-lined quadrilateral figure, whose opposite
sides are parallel, and consequently equal.' "
Oh!" said Martha. She was fond of knowledge,
was Martha Washington, and she was glad that now she
knew what a par-al-lel-o-gram was.
"Oh, my land sakes alive! burst forth George Wash-
ington.
What! said Martha Washington, leaning over his
shoulder.
Why, this building; it's eighteen hundred and sev-
enty-six feet long; think of that-a foot for every year!
Wouldn't I like to gallop on horseback straight through
it! Just look at the towers; they are seventy-five feet
1hi-h! I tell you what I think: it seems as if a fellow
337




A CEIVTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

named George Washington, and born on the Fourth of
July, ought to go to see the Centennial and the father
of his country leaned back against the sofa cushions,
with a solemn face.
Meanwhile Martha's eyes, never very small, had been
growing larger and larger. Some great big thought was
behind all that thinking. It burst forth in one short
sentence:
Georgie, let's have a Centennial."
What do you mean ?"
Why, a real time, you know; like that at Philadel-
phia; let's have it on the Fourth of July, our birthday.
We can do it beau/ifully. Don't you know that long ar-
bor down by the bridge? well, that will do for the big
building; I don't know about its being a par-al-lel-o-
gram. I didn't quite understand about that; but I know
it will do; and the tent will be the Machinery Hall.
And the Conservatory will be the flower-room, and the
barn can be the Art Gallery; no, the barn will be better
for machinery, and the tent for the Art Gallery; now
won't that be lovely?"
But what will we do? Where's the fun? "
Why, George Washington! it's all over. Kitty's
Josephine Amanda will make a lovely Columbia; and
our big flag will do for the float' over her; just lovely
it will be; I can see it now just as plain. And we can
338




A CENTER VILLE CENVEN7AAL.

have music, your band, you know, and real flowers, lots
of them, and pictures and speeches; they had a poem,
and all such things; and papa will let us have the Chi-
nese lanterns up, because it will be Fourth of July, and
our birthday. Oh, we can have a perfectly splendid Cen-
tennial, all our own "
We could have my new balloon, and my wind-mill,
and my kite, with a new-fashioned tail, for Machinery
Hall," said George Washington, beginning to warm with
the new idea. Those are all new things."
Yes, and Kittie's doll-carriage, with the draw behind;
that's machinery."
So it is; and I made it! I invented it! I've got a
new notion about that balloon that will make it better
than ever; why, I don't know but it would be a good
idea."
Oh, splendid! we can have domes, and all; I know
what will make splendid domes; just take some old
hoop-skirts, there's piles and piles of them in the attic,
and cover them over with sheets and things, and they
would look lovely. We could have three on the ar-
bor."
There's one thing," said George Washington, leaning
his cheek on his hand; "they have things from Paris,
you know, and London, and all that; we couldn't manage
that."
339




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

"Paris!" said Martha, her eyes growing larger; and
she went to thinking.
I know," she said; let's have Tommy, and Janie,
and Trudie, in it; they moved from Paris Hill, you
know; and they can bring lots of things, and all their
things we can mark Paris '! "
That's a fact. And that fellow that's visiting at the
Stone house is from New London. What's to hinder
our letting him in and having a lot of things from Lon-
don? I'll tell you what, Martha Washington, you and
I are a jolly couple; let's do it."


CHAPTER II.
HOW IT WAS PLANNED.
THEN began work, I can tell you. The mother of
George and Martha Washington had reason, before the
next long weeks were over, to wish that she had named
her children John and Jane Smith, or any other worthy
names, unknown to fame. You have no idea how they
flew about! There was a great deal to be done. To
show what a lovely place Martha had chosen for the
"big building," you shall have a peep of her, down by
the bridge, the arbor just behind them, while she sat at
her papa's side and explained to him the wonderful
plan.
340


























Vill '.;.


















II& .. .. ..
IT ,,
I .'






,Al
04~;




A CELA'nTERILL CE1,1,A' IAI.

The heartiness with which papa went into the whole
affair was an honor to his country. In fact, he had a
dozen new ideas for them, and Martha left him more de-
lighted and determined than before. Oh, me I wish
you and I could have followed those two people up and
down the world for the next two weeks. If our feet
wouldn't have ached, it wouldn't have been their fault.
The plan grew and widened as they talked it over,
and worked it over, till they were almost astonished at
their own schemes. A bell they must have, of course.
And, oh!" screamed Martha, "it shall be made of
flowers "













"And, oh!" yelled Trudie, from Paris, the clapper
shall be a lily," and though I haven't room for the bell, I
declare, you shall see the lily.
Now the flowers, they must be yellow; oh, so yel-
342




A CENTER VILLE CENTENNIAL.

low," said Martha, that people will think they are made
of brass, like a real bell;" and so the Scotch gardener















,
















had to be talked, and talked, and talked at. Poor Mar-
tha's tongue just ached before she managed him. He
didn't believe in the Centennial so very much as he
343




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

might, anyhow. Sober old Scotland had never done
anything so wild as that.
"Oh, but David!" said Martha, "of course you
couldn't, you know, because you never had a Declaration
of Independence, and bells rung, and one of them
cracked, and all that; how could you ?"
"Indeed, and Miss Marthie," David said, Old Scot-
land was as independent as she cared to be. Freedom
to do her duty in the fear of God was as much as a body
needed; and if Scotland hadn't that, why, who had ?
And as for bells, she would never hear any bells so sweet
as the bells of old Scotland, nor see anything bonnier
than the heather bells growing everywhere. As for be-
ing cracked, it was no such great pride to have cracked
bells."
Martha saw she had made a mistake. Oh, but Da-
vid!" she said; we are going to have ever so many
people here, to walk up and down, as they do in Phila-
delphia, and don't you see they will find that your flow-
ers are the prettiest and the yellowest in the world ? "
Weel, if it comes to that, that's so," he said; and a
prettier show of flowers than mine it would be hard to
find ;" and so the old gardener was won.
The Art Gallery was to be a success. Every Centen-
nial picture that the daily and weekly papers and maga-
zines brought to Centerville, and that George and Mar-
344




A CENTER VLLE CENTENNIAL.

tha could get hold of, was cut and framed in evergreen,
and touched off at the corners with gilt paper stars, and
hung in Memorial Hall.
Moreover, they planned one such lovely work of art,
for the centre piece, that nothing at Philadelphia can
quite equal it, so you shall have a glimpse of the copy.

















It was nothing less than Kitty Meyers herself, in a hat
that was forty-five years old, and her hair combed just as
mamma used to comb hers, and a pussy cat in her arms,
whose name was Thomas Jefferson; one of the original
signers of the Declaration of Independence, every one
knows.
She was to have a lovely frame of evergreen around
345




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

her, with yellow flowers all over it for stars, and to be
set on the highest shelf in Memorial Hall -a living,
breathing work of art, fresh from the Master's hand.
We challenge Philadelphia to equal that!
So the plan grew, and grew, and grew, until father be-
came nearly as wild as the children -so the mother
said, but she sewed gilt stars on a white robe while she
spoke, and while she sewed she smiled. She was not












sorry that she had named her children those troublesome
names, after all.
There was a great map of the world in the Art Gal-
lery, and mamma suggested a big Bible to be laid open
before it, for the emblem, and the good angels made
Trudie, from Paris, think a cross of white flowers would
be just the thing to lay on it; and as one thing leads to
another, Papa Meyers himself helped cut and cover and
arrange the letters that spelled the motto. And Martha,
346




A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

as she surveyed with great delight every unpronouncea-
ble, queer-sounding, solemn-looking word, said, with a
great sigh of satisfaction, that that was better than a
parallelogram, she was sure "
They were really almost ready now. The speech,
even the poem, was written and learned, and had been
recited in the barn, in the wood-shed, in the pasture, in
the arbor, wherever George Washington's historic feet
had occasion to tread; for who so fitting to deliver the
poem on this occasion as the venerable George ? I am
sure you want a copy of the poem. Here it is:-

Hail! Centennial day!
One hundred years have passed away -
Gone from our sight, and gone to stay!
SHail, all hail! Centennial day!

Hail! Centennial day!
Here swings the bell of liberty!
Here can your eyes improvements see!
Made all of them by hands that are free!
Hail, all hail! Centennial day!

Hail! Centennial day!
Yonder there stands a great balloon,
I made it, with these hands, and soon
347





A CENTERVILLE CENTENNIAL.

We can travel by it to the moon!
Hail, all hail! Centennial day!

Hail! Centennial day!
We greet you with a song !
May your life be glad and long!
May you make right out of every wrong!
Hail, all hail! Centennial day!

Need I say to you that the father of his country com-
posed every word of this himself?
It was the very night before the grand "opening."
The friends from Paris, and the friends from London,
and the renowned Americans, all tumbled around on the
grass together, and rejoiced over the thought that every
single thing was ready.
The thirty-eight dolls, who represented the thirty-eight
States, were dressed, and garlanded, and badged, and
standing in solemn rows under one of the evergreen
archways of Memorial Hall.
It's so nice," said Martha Washington, with a yawn,
" that they haven't got to undress, and go to bed, and
have their breakfast, and be all fixed again. They can
just stand there all night, and no more fuss about it."
"On the other hand," said the London gentleman, "it's
so nice that we can go to bed, and get up, and have our
348




A CENTER VILLE CENTENNIAL.

breakfast, and not have to stand there all night." Then
they all laughed.
Suddenly George Washington grew sober. I've
thought of a strange thing," he said.
"What? said they all.
"Why, what in the world shall we do with the
money ?"
The money! said they all.
"Why, yes; don't you know we have planned that all
who come shall pay two cents at every hall? Now there
will be a rush no mistake about that. I don't know
a boy or girl in the whole town of Centerville that isn't
coming; to say nothing of grown-up folks; and what
shall be done with the money? "
Now when, in the annals of history, was it known be-
fore that there was money gathering on people's hands
and nothing to do with it?
Yet, so it was. Such a clamor of tongues as arose
then London, and Paris, and America, all talking at
once. Each had a plan ; each thought the other one's
plan perfect nonsense.
We ought to do something on a grand scale! said
the Londoner, loftily.
Or something funny, that we can all have some of,"
said a Paris lady.
Mother," said George Washington, what can we do
349





A CENTER VILLE CEANT'ENA'AL,.

with the money that will be real honorable and Centen-
nial ? Before she could answer, the gate clicked behind
them, and Miss Rebecca Harlowe came up the walk.
What about money ? she said.
Oh, here's Rebecca!" they all said, she'll help us;
let's tell her about it; which they all tried to do. By
dint of a dozen questions wedged in among the whiz of
tongues, she got the idea.
Well, isn't that splendid !" she said, as soon as they
gave her a chance. How things fit! Why, I'm de-
lighted! I have a Centennial plan myself, and this fits
into it, as though it was made for it. You know our
chapel ? "
Yes!" "Of course!" "We've seen it once or
twice." These were some of her answers.
Well, you know how the lamps smoke?"
Don't we, though "
And how dusty it is sometimes ?"
Aye !"
And that there's only a greasy cambric rag for a
duster ? "
No is that so ?"
And that the broom has but four straws in it? "
Well, now listen !"
So they all put their heads together and listened,"
and at the end of the story they all shook themselves




DA/SY'S TALA/

out, and gave a good strong hurrah," and, tired as they
were, they went straight to work over a new motto of
evergreen, that it was agreed must appear to-morrow
over the Main Exhibition Building. It was the name of
their new society: The American Foreign Centennial
Lamp and Broom Society."
-_--- ^*^^. ---

DAISY'S TALK.
Now, Pero, you mustn't touch this slipper, it's papa's
slipper, and Daisy is getting it all warm for his poor cold
footie. Toby, you mustn't touch it, either -it isn't a
mousie, and you needn't play that it is.
Papa will say, Good little daughter, to take care of
papa.' He won't say so to you, Pero, 'cause you know
you are only a dog, and you can't be either good or bad.
Why, yes you can! When you go after the paper you
are good, and when you follow papa to the city after he
has sent you back five two times, why, then you are bad.
But then, you know you can't talk, and I suppose you
can't think; though I don't see how folks know whether
you think or not, because you can't tell them how it is.
You needn't say bow wow! that isn't talking.
Don't you feel bad, Pero, good doggie? Daisy loves
you, and I suppose it is talk, after all ; dog talk. I don't
understand it always, but I suppose you do.




DAISY'S TALK.




111 ill


















"Toby, what are you mewing about? Don't you know
Pero and I are talking, and you 'sturb us ? You must
never interrupt people when they are talking. Scat!
don't touch my slipper.
"You poor Pero and Toby, I'm real sorry for you. I
can't think how it would seem to be nothing but a cat
and a dog all the time. I'm afraid you are both very
352
=_---_==_-o-- -__ -~

-- -_: =, _= _-----_:.. ___.-
"Toby~~~~~1, wa r o eigaotDntyuko
Pero and I re talking and you 'tur sYums
never~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~~~:~s .nerp epewe hyaetlig ct







Pero and I are talking~,352yustr s Yums




DAISY'S TALK.

naughty, for I've tried hard to teach you to say your
prayers, and you would not say them. I s'pose, though,
you can't it's what you get for being a cat and a dog
instead of people.
You have tongues, too, but you can't say words with
them; they are just made to eat milk with, and to lick
my hand. You see the think has been left out of you,
that is just the trouble, and you can't ever go to heaven,
because people who don't pray to Jesus never go to
heaven; and you can't pray. I'm so sorry for you, be-
cause it's a beautiful place there; the floors are all made
of gold, and they have flowers and rivers, only you don't
drown in them, and it's just lovely.
I'm going, and mamma and papa, I guess, only he
hasn't much time; but I pray for him every night and
morning. I say,' Please Jesus take care of dear papa,
and let him go to heaven when he dies;' and I pray for
you, too. I say,' Please Jesus take care of Pero and
Toby.'
But I can't ask him to take you to heaven when you
die, because you can't learn how to pray, and you've got
to pray or else you can't go to heaven; it says so in the
Bible. So all you can do is to have a nice good time
here. I suppose that is why you don't have the scarlet
fever and the measles and things because you have
such a little bit of a life that there isn't time for hard
353




A GRAVE QUESTION.

things; but we don't care, you know, because we are go-
ing to live forever up in heaven. Bow wow! Meow!
Dear me! these are all the words that you can say. I
am sorry for you."


A GRAVE QUESTION.
YOUNG Bobby wears a very sober face. Not exactly
a troubled one but one that shows he has a serious
business to attend to, and so he had. New Year's morn-
ing, and his birthday, six years old to-day. I can tell you
what he is thinking about :
Mover," he said the other night. There is hardly a
word in the English language that he cannot pronounce,
except "mover," and when he is very careful he can say
that; but the truth is, mover thinks the baby word is
all that is left of her dear baby, who has grown into a
boy, and is quite willing to have him forget to speak the
word aright.
Well, 'mover,' he said, that Timmy Mullen, you
know, that I went after, he can't come because he hasn't
anything to wear on his feet, and the snow has made red
spots all over his toes; mover,' can't I give him some
shoes or something, so he can come ? "
You may not understand this sentence, but mover"
did. Bobby was hunting up Sunday-school recruits; he









________'


1w --:_ __ -













.-::
1 i I I
S j w'I






















----q~ ---~-------=-=-;K~,-~N




A GRAVE QUESTION

belonged to the standing army that they had in school,
and Timmy was a boy whom he had been after for some
time.
"There isn't .a single pair of shoes in the house, to
spare," his mother said. "Don't you remember we
picked up all the old ones for the Smiths, after the fire ?"
Bobby looked sober, drew a long sigh, and presently
said:
Then I s'pose Timmy will have to stay at home; it
is pretty mean that a boy can't have something for his
feet, I think."
Mother sewed away on Bobby's little jacket for some
minutes without speaking; pretty soon she said:
I can think of one way by which you can get him a
pair of shoes, if you want to."
I can !" Bobby said with sparkling eyes. "Why,
how ? Won't that be splendid ? "
But I am not at all sure that you will want to
do it."
Course I shall want to do it; I'm awful in a hurry
to have him go; besides, he will make four this winter.
What way, mover, tell me quick?"
Well," said mother, sewing very fast, and not glanc-
ing up at all, you know to-morrow will be New Year's
and your birthday, and you know you have never had a
pair of boots, and have been wanting some for ever so
356




A GRAVE QUESTION

long. Now there is a pair in the house that are meant
for you; they are bought and paid for, and it happens
that they cost just exactly as much again as a pair of
nice thick shoes would; now, if you choose to have me
do it, I can exchange those boots for two pairs of shoes,
and one pair you may give to Timmy."
Bobby stood looking at his mother in speechless sur-
prise not to say dismay at the greatness of this
sacrifice. Hadn't he wanted a pair of boots, and hadn't
he talked about them, every day of his life for most a
hundred years so it seemed to him and here were a
pair in the house, under his mother's bed as likely as
not, and there sat his mother coolly proposing to ex-
change them for two pairs of horrid little shoes with
strings in just like a girl's.
I couldn't do that, you know," he said at last in a
slow grave tone.
So I supposed !" said mother, sewing away; only
it seemed to be my duty to let you know there was a
way; you seemed to be so anxious about Timmy."
Couldn't you possibly get him a pair of 'shoes, and
let me keep the boots ?"
Mother shook her head. It might be possible, but I
don't think it is best. I have spent all the money on
charity, this year, that I feel I can spare, but if you
choose to spend some, that is another thing."
357




A GRAVE QC7UST/OL.

Bobby was very still so was his mother.
Have they got red tops ? he asked at last.
Yes, bright red ones."
And big heels? "
Very big; so big that father thought some of them
ought to be taken off, but I spoke a good word for them,
because I knew your tastes."
SThen they kept still for a few minutes.
"I'm pretty old,:' said Bobby at last, not to have had
a pair of boots; Ned Smith is a whole half year younger
than I am, and he has had a pair for two weeks."
Yes," said mother, you are plenty old enough to
have a pair, and you have waited rather patiently, con-
sidering, and they are in the house this minute, waiting
for you; but at the same time you can have the choice
I spoke of."
Mother," said Bobby, speaking slowly and carefully,
and getting every letter into the name mother" in its
right place; do you think I ought to change them ? "
"That has nothing to do with it," mother answered,
quickly. It is your affair, not mine; what I think, or
don't think, is not to the purpose; I have given it over
into your hands, to do just what you think."
Then they were still for ever so long, at least it was
a long while for Bobby to keep still. Then he said:
How long can I have to decide? "
358




A GA VE QUESTION.

Why, I ought to take the boots back to-morrow, if I
don't keep them; they may have a chance to sell them
on New Year's Day."
Then I'll tell you about it to-morrow morning; I'll
decide it while I am getting dressed. I want to think it
over, because, you see, it is important; boots are great
things."
Very great," said mother, not knowing whether to
laugh or cry.
The picture is just as he looked, the next morning,
when he was trying to decide what to do.
It is an important question," he said. Mother said
so and I know so. Boots are splendid things. You can
step in the snow ever so deep, and your stockings won't
go and get all damp, and give you a sore throat; but
then, I s'pose shoes are better than nothing at all, and
Timmy Nolan goes barefoot, and I could walk in the
path. I don't most ever to go where there isn't a path.
Shoes wear out quicker than boots, mother said so,
and these would wear out some time or other, then I
could have the boots. Maybe they would last till I am
a man; things last me so awful long. I could stamp
about a great deal, and try to make them go a little
quicker, but that would be mean, I s'pose. Don't you go
and be wicked, Bobby, just for the sake of a new pair of
boots.
35.)




A GRA VE QUESTION.

"All the boys will laugh, 'cause I told them I was
most sure I would have boots this year, but I don't think
Timmy will laugh much if he has to go barefoot. It is
real hard to tell. If mother had said, You must do
this, Bobby,' it would have been ever so much easier,
only I most feel as if I would have been mad then and I
can't be mad now, for I can do just as I like."
In view of all these arguments, Bobby took two or
three turns up and down the room; then he did what
many boys older and wiser than he forget to do when
they have troublesome questions to decide he got
down on his knees and said:
Jesus Christ, help me, for I want the boots most aw-
ful, and I most think I ought to take the shoes. For
Jesus' sake. Amen."
Then he went to the door, and called at the head of
the stairs:
Mother, mother," and when she answered, he shouted
down to her, please to send the boots back right away,
quick, before I come down-stairs, and get the two pairs
of shoes."
Brave little Bobby. I think Jesus Christ did help
him.



360





FRESH BERRIES.
DEAR me!" said Miss Marshall, and she began to
walk slower and slower. What a looking hut that is!
and what a looking man sitting there! I wonder if I am
afraid to pass him? I am glad I haven't my pocket-
book," and she felt in her pocket to be sure it wasn't
there. But then, I have my watch and chain, and my
diamond ring. I don't know what to do. I am afraid
to turn around, and I am afraid to go on. What made
me wander away out here? Who would have supposed
that such a looking set lived here. I may as well walk
on, I suppose, for they will 'be sure to chase after me if
I let them know that I am afraid. Oh, dear me! I
wish I was safe at home again! "
She walked slower and slower, and kept looking at
the ugly fellow outside of the hut, and wondering how
many more were inside, and whether they would let her
go if she gave them her watch and ring. Just then a
shrill voice from within the hut squealed out:
Jake!"
What! said the man outside.
Are them there berries in the yellar pail to go to the
village this morning? "
"No!"
"Why not? "
"'Cause they ain't fresh; they was left over; they was
361











-2EP











til
61 J- I

-!-1






-- "
:: .. _- -- 't :[ ,F





.. I,-- . - .;

,o
-" -- -- 2t


r : ii i
i,' -, .. .;;
I- ~ ~ ,
,'-
.:, .. ,,1
.....~ .e ,C ~ .,.!,
.... : .. ,- -,;-,.. ., . ,,,!,.
,~ ~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~ J ,, , ,. ..-.,
, ,' .' ,.'-. ,./'.-r ,




RUFFLES.

picked a Saturday, and this is a Monday morning.
Stale berries ain't healthy, to say nothing of their not
bein' honest. You don't catch Jake Flinn bein' mean
enough to try to sell 'em for fresh, so near after the Sab-
bath day, too. We can eat 'em for dinner; they won't
hurt us, I suppose; anyhow, they can't go to market."
Miss Marshall heard every word of this, and, by the
time Jake stopped talking, she had begun to walk fast
again. She nodded a pleasant good-morning to him as
she passed the hut. Every bit of fear was gone; she
knew her watch and diamond ring were as safe as
though she were at home. Why? Because she had
sense enough to know that a man who wouldn't sell
stale berries for fresh ones, wouldn't steal. Little bits
of things tell what kind of lives people live.
He is not so bad-looking a man after all," said Miss
Marshall as she passed him; even the look on his face
seemed to have changed.


RUFFLES.
THEY stopped under the old tree not far from the
church-yard. The twin sisters, Lena and Lina Ferris,
stood a little apart from the others, and talked in low
voices. At least Lena did, Lina's voice was loud enough
for them all to hear.
3863





R FFL ES.

"There is no use in talking, Lena Ferris! I am not
going to Sunday-school to sit in a class with girls who
make fun of me, and of my mother, because I haven't
twenty-five ruffles on my dress! You may do it if you



; W-.-

t
-4 ---_ ,., I-f J _-














I A





want to, but I have too much'spirit to stand it; I am
just going home! This was what Lina said.
Then Ida Willard, the girl with the three ruffles, said:
What a story! We didn't make fun of you at all.
2(;4






I said your dress would be prettier if it was ruffled,
and so it would; and then Gracie only said she shouldn't
think your mother would dress you so queer, and she
didn't mean you to hear that, at all."
Then Carrie Blake reached out her hand.
Oh, do come on, Lina," she said, "what is the use of
having a fuss over nothing! We shall all be late.
What do you want to be so peppery for ?"
Then Lena: Do come, Lina, mother will not like us
to come home; what difference does it make whether
the girls think our dresses are pretty or not ?"
It makes a good deal of difference to me! I don't
choose to be made fun of; I am just as good as they
are if my dress isn't ruffled."
Two boys came down the walk; one of them was the
twins' brother. He saw that one little sister looked
troubled, and one looked cross, so he stopped.
What's up ? he asked, pleasantly.
Ida Willard was ready to explain: Why, your sister
Lina is mad at us because her dress isn't ruffled; but I
don't see how we can help it."
That isn't the truth, and she knows it!" said Lina,
speaking very loud. She is always making fun of the
way we are dressed; and so is Carrie Blake, and I am
not going to stand it any longer. I am as good as she
is, any day."
:;,L5




A VALEN'AT7AE MADE OF POE7TK .

Aleck laughed. Why, I think you are ruffled," he
said; more ruffled than any of them. I'm sure your
temper is ruffled, away up to your chin !"
Then Lina began to cry. The other boy was Lewis
Holbrook; he was not so tall as his friend, in fact the
boys called him Chuncky."
Be ye kind one to another.' Isn't that in the lesson
for to-day? he asked of Ida Willard.
The girls looked ashamed.
She does get mad so quick!" one of them said.
Lewis looked kindly at her. I'll give you a verse
for to-morrow," he said. "' A soft answer turneth away
wrath.' If you want to know whether that is true, just
try it the next time you have a chance."
Aleck Ferris laughed. I've got a verse," he said.
"' Behold how great a matter a little ruffle kin-
dleth !' Now, come, all of you, and let's go to Sabbath-
school."
Lina dried her eyes and went on with the rest. Lewis
had helped her.


A VALENTINE MADE OF POETRY.
LITTLE Lulie Langdon with one shoe off, and one
shoe on, is almost wild with joy, for this is the four-
teenth day of February, and she has a valentine! all her







Iy




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A VALENTINE MADE OF POETRY.

own! came through the post-office, and had her name
written on it, ".Miss Lulie Langdon."
It's made of poetry, too!" she said, and her eyes
danced. It was for all the world like her grown-up sis-
ter's; only hers hadn't a pretty heart on it. The valen-
tine came from Lulie's dear friend, Georgie Bliss, who
was nine years old. He wrote the poetry every bit
himself." Here it is:


Dear little Lulie, I send you my heart,
All made of paper, red and gold; only part
Of it's blue; right in the middle of the sheet;
That, you know, is because I'm your true lover. I call
that pretty neat.


Little Lulie, whenever you get big, and want to send a
valentine,
If I were you, I wouldn't undertake to write it in rhyme!
Poetry's nice, but it's awful hard to do;
You wouldn't catch me at it for anybody but you.


Now Lulie, I don't suppose you'll know that I send you
this,
Unless I put in my name, -and I tell you, it's lucky
that my name is George Bliss!





LAD)DERS.

'Cause you see that rhymes, and that's a point to be con-
sidered,
When your writing poetry every bit yourself, and and
that's the end.



LADDERS.

So 7oshua sent messengers, and they ran into the
tent; and, behold, it was hid in his tent, and the silver
under it."

THIS is the way Floy's portrait looks. It hangs in
the sitting-room where her mother can give it loving
looks, between the stitches that she is always taking in
Floy's garments. An artist who was spending the sum-
mer in town, and boarding just across the street, painted
the picture ; and it is a very fine likeness. I don't sup-
pose there ever was a better picture of a pussy cat than
Mr. Edwards made of Topsy.
I hope you see that she has a very intelligent face.
Floy, in her winter cap of white fur, and muffled up in a
fur cloak and leggins, looked very unlike this little short-
sleeved maiden. But she was dressed according to the
weather, you see. It was June when this picture was
taken, and it is February now.
Floy was just home from Sunday-school. She stopped
369













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LADDERS.

before the picture, and looked at it steadily, then looking
down at something in her hand:
It isn't like my ladder," she said, at last; "and yet it
is a ladder I guess. I wonder if it is to climb down or
up on.
"Well, what now ? said Mr. Lewis, who was waiting
for his little daughter, and watching her face.
Papa, is this to climb down on, do you think ? "
"Climb down on? What is the point? I am in ig-
norance as usual."
"Why, papa, you know Achan used his ladder to
climb down on; but then he needn't if he hadn't been so
foolish. Wasn't he so silly? "
I think very likely, but you see I haven't the pleas-
ure of his acquaintance; you will have to come and tell
me about him. What have you in your hand ?"
Why, this is my ladder; and that ladder-looking
thing in my picture made me think of it; the flower is
climbing up on it; the flower knows more than Achan
did. Papa, don't you truly know about Achan, and how
he made a ladder of his eyes and his hands ? "
I don't think I ever heard of him before in my life;
while we are getting these fixings all off, you might give
me an account of him."
"Why, papa, he stole, he kept looking and looking
at some gold and some other things, and the more he
371




LADDERS.

looked at them the more he wanted them, so he took
them; and then, don't you think, he had to hide them,
He thought he put them where nobody could find them,
but God knew about them all the time, and he told all
about it, and Achan- got found out. So then he told all
about it, but that didn't help him any. He had to be
punished, and he had to give up the beautiful land of
Canaan, just for a piece of gold that didn't do him any
good."
But I don't see anything about a ladder in all
that?"
Oh! Miss Peckham made us a ladder to help us to
understand about it. See, papa! The sides are made
of eyes and hands ; oh! and a heart, I forgot that; and
the rounds are what he did. He looked and wanted,
that was with his heart, you know, and then his hand
took it, and then they hid it; he kept stepping down,
down, and he never minded the sign at the top, which
said, Beware of covetousness.' He kept stepping down,
until he got to the very bottom; and there God knew
about it all the time."
,Mr. Lewis laughed a little. "What nonsense it is,"
he said, to talk to a mouse like you about such a long
word as covetousnesss,' just as if you could under-
stand it."
Oh, but, papa, I do; it means to keep wanting a
372




,ADDERAS.

thing very much that don't belong to us, and that God
would rather we wouldn't have; to want it so much that
we try to get it. That is just what Achan did; God
gave him his eyes and his hands to help him up, and in-
stead of that, he made them help him down; I think my
ladder in the picture is a climb ladder. I mean to use
all my ladders to climb up by. Don't you, papa? "
"There is no telling," he said, putting her down rather
suddenly, and she ran to show her ladder to mamma.
All that day Mr. Lewis was restless; he couldn't even
eat oysters, though he was so fond of them; and he said
the mince-pie was sour, though every one else thought it
was sweet. At night, after Floy had been asleep for
hours, he suddenly said:
After all, I believe I'll let that mortgage stand. I
would like Smith's house well enough, but the poor fel-
low wants to keep it himself, and if I help him along he
will be able to keep it, I guess. I believe I'll 'climb up'
instead of down this time."
And Mrs. Lewis, who had had Floy's ladder explained
to her, said softly:
A little child shall lead them.' "
Ask your father what she meant by that.




373
~C~~F.5~ ~~s





LITTLE CHILD'S MORNING HYMN.

THE morning bright,
With rosy light,
Has waked me from my sleep.
Father! I own
Thy love alone
Thy little one doth keep.

All through the day,
I humbly pray,
Be thou my guard and guide!
My sins forgive,
And let me live,
Blest Jesus! near thy side.

Oh, make thy rest
Within my breast,
Great Spirit of all grace!
Make me like thee!
Then I shall be
Prepared to see thy face.






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TDE AWA KE E:


0 FOA VOUNG PEOPLE OF -ALL AOES.


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