Citation
Stories for darlings

Material Information

Title:
Stories for darlings
Creator:
Egerton, Arthur
Murray, John, 1808-1892 ( Publisher )
E. Brain and Co ( Printer )
Cooper, James Davis, 1823-1904 ( Engraver )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
John Murray
Manufacturer:
E. Brain and Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
148 p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870 ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1870 ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) ( rbprov )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Added title page, engraved.
General Note:
Illustrations engraved by Cooper.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by The Sun.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026977559 ( ALEPH )
ALH8673 ( NOTIS )
31380508 ( OCLC )

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STORIES FOR DARLINGS,

BY THE SUN.













Sy,

LON OON
JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE S'*
1870






STORIES

DARLINGS

jp He PUN.

LONDON: ;
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1870, ;



Dedicated

TO
FIVE ESPECIAL DARLINGS;

AND AFTER THEM,

TO

ALI ENGLISH DARLINGS

WHO LOVE STORIES AND

PICTURE-BOOKS.






Contents.

PAGE

THe Mipnicur ADVENTURE . : ‘ : ‘ : . 17
Basy Zacu . . . . ; . . . : . 81
Tue Tree Sisters. . . : . : : . 48
Tue Kine or tHE Hartz Mounrains . : . . . 55
Tue Sisrer or Mercy; or, Lirrne Marizr . : . . 78
“Torrie ’?—Cuarrers I., IL, IIT., TV. . . . . | 91
Tue Farries’ Bart—Cuarrers I., II. . . . . . 118
Tue AuruMN PRIMROSE . , . : . . . 181
Tue Guarpian ANGEL . . . : . . . . M1

Parting Worps . . . . . - 7 : - 146




























































ES, we were a very merry party round the
tea-table—a whole lot of Darlings, some

very small, some fast growing bigger, but

all very busy eating bread and butter

and treacle,





12 STORIES FOR DARLINGS.

Some were laughing and playing, and not a few little eyes
were getting rather red and sleepy, when the Sun put his
large smiling face in at the window. It was a bay window,
with nice seats in it, where you could sit and have a beautiful
and commanding view of the sea, and watch the noble ships
and little boats sailing about, and hear the tiny waves singing
pretty songs.

The Sun was just going down, and painting them all a deep
red colour, when he bethought himself that it was getting time
for the Darlings to be in bed. So he looked in close at the
window again, and said—

“Time for bed, bed, bed.”

And his voice sounded so sweet and low, that one tiny head
dropped on the table, and was fast asleep in a minute. But
the others only laughed, and cried out—

“Oho! Mr. Sun, you are there, are you? Time for stories,
stories, stories.”

“ Time for stories,” echoed all the little voices.

“No, no,” said the Sun; “TI cannot wait for stories to-night.
T have got a long journey before me, and a great many people

are waiting at the other side of the world, where I am going ;



STORIES FOR DARLINGS. 13

old faces, young faces, and baby faces—all longing to be up
and see the Sun.”

“Never mind that,” said a boy Darling—rather a rough and
boisterous one; but when he looked again at the Sun, and saw
that his face was very grave, I think he began to feel sorry
to have been in such a hurry.

All this time the Sun was getting redder and redder every
minute; but he still kept looking in on the children, and
sending loving glances all round. At last, when they were all
sitting hushed and quiet, and looking at his now fast-fading
light, he kissed them all tenderly—one on his bright golden
hair, another on his cheek, a third on her soft little hands; and
so on, all in turn: but I think if his glance rested longer on
one face than another, it was on the rough, boisterous, warm-
hearted boy, the real Darling of his heart.

Then he spoke once more; and this time his voice sounded
very low, for he feared to wake the little sleeping one.

“ Good-night, good-night, my Darlings; I leave you, but only
for a little time; and while I am away, the moon and the
twinkling stars will watch over and take care of you; and to-

morrow, when I come again from the strange, golden land,



14 STORIES FOR DARLINGS.

whither I go to-night, I will bring you stories, beautiful stories,

for all—

And these are the stories that the Sun brought the next

day for the Darlings.


































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTINE POINTING OUT TO HER FATHER THE FIRST
GLIMPSE OF LAND.



THE WIONIGHT ADVENTURE,




lying just underneath your feet, there lived
\. an old man and his daughter. He was a
Frenchman, and had left France at the
time of the great gold discovery, that I dare
say you have read of, though you were none
of you alive at the time it happened.
Well, in those days, Australia was not the same



r¢ flourishing land that it is now. People had only just
? begun to settle there a few years before; and what is
now the large town of Melbourne, was then only a little village.
I think the old Frenchman had much better have stayed in his
own land, and by his own fireside, though. it was a poor one:
but the temptation to better his fortunes was too great ;

and when he saw so many of his friends and neighbours ail



18 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE,

going in search of these unknown riches, he determined to go
too. Of course, his only child and daughter could not be left
behind alone, so it was finally settled that they should both
go; for the poor old man said, they could not be worse off
there than they were at home, and they might be better. In
fact, he was like the rest of the world, old or young, who.
all think that what they cannot see, and cannot have, is far
nicer than what they possess. We shall see whether these poor
French folk had their anticipations realised or not.

On their way to this golden land, the ship touched at several
places to get provisions and water, and the poor emigrants
suffered terribly in many ways. There were several hundred
people on board, men and women, all crowded together; and
they often had not enough to eat or drink. At last, one day
their weary eyes were gladdened by the sight of distant land,
after a voyage of many months; and before the week was out,
they all found themselves huddled together on the quay of a
strange town, and feeling as miserable and forlorn as it was
possible to be.

I dare say you have seen pictures of Melbourne as it is now,
with its fine wide streets and good houses; but then it had
quite a different appearance. Thirty years ‘ago, when poor
old Jacques Michaud and his daughter landed, there were
nothing but wooden houses; and the people who lived there
were mostly poor themselves, and could give little or no help to
any new-comers.



THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE, 19

The girl’s name was Christine, and I was very fond of her:
she was such a good, unselfish girl; and I think she was very
fond of me too; for on board the ship, she would always rise
before I did, and look out at her little cabin window to welcome
me, when I took my first peep over the horizon. Christine was
about fifteen years old, and able to do a great deal towards
helping her father. She could cook and wash, and mend
clothes, and keep things clean. They could not find any
lodging in Melbourne that they could afford to pay for; so
at last they settled themselves in a small, lonely cottage,
about three miles from the town. No one lived within a mile
of the house; and poor Christine did not like it at all, it was
so far away from every one. I heard it was for this reason that
others, who were better off, would not live there: but it was
a great object to old Jacques and Christine to pay very little
rent for their house, and they therefore made up their minds to
live there, and not to think about its being solitary.

Twice a week the old man would trudge into the town, to
sell the baskets that he and Christine made together; and as it
was too far for him to come back again the same night, after
walking about all day, he generally slept in some outhouse, or
wherever he could get a handful of straw to lie down on, and
a roof to cover him. So it happened that Christine was left
alone for many hours; and at night, she used to get quite
terrified by the solitude and loneliness of the spot: indeed,
those nights that her father stayed away, she never went to bed



20 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

at all. Sometimes, if she dropped into an uneasy slumber
over the kitchen fire, she would be awoke suddenly by loud
voices, and a clattering of hoofs, which would again as
suddenly die away in the distance. These were generally
some parties of men, either going to or coming from the
gold-diggings.

At these times Christine would start and shiver, fearing
that some one was going to attack the house. And now I
must tell you what happened one night.

It appears that Christine, though she led this solitary life,
did occasionally see a few people; and, in particular, one old
couple, who lived about a mile off, on a small farm, where she
was able, every now and then, to procure a little milk, and
sometimes the luxury of a few eggs.

Well, to this old woman she had told her tale, and how she
lived in terror of some one coming to the lone house at night,
and how terrified she was at being alone. In an evil moment
the woman repeated this to some one else, without a thought
of doing harm to Christine, but merely as a piece of gossip: at
the same time, she warned her neighbour not to repeat it; who
paid no heed to this injunction, but went and told somebody
else. The story of Christine’s loneliness and terror became
known, and even reached Melbourne. JI need hardly tell you,
in a place like that, there were many who thought it would be
capital fun to amuse themselves at the poor girl’s expense; and’
some young men determined to watch their opportunity, when



THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 21

Jacques had left the house, and surprise and frighten his
daughter. :

They did not mean to hurt her, I dare say; but I don’t think
they thought much about it: they were wild, selfish boys, bent
on amusing themselves in any way they could, whether good
or bad. So, one evening, when they had seen old Jacques
selling his baskets in Melbourne, they started off with some
sticks and a lantern, and arrived at the lonely house.

_ It happened that the night was a stormy one; the wind
whistled round the corners, with occasional showers of heavy
rain; and Christine sat in the chimney corner, trembling at
every strange noise she heard. Once she fancied there were
voices speaking outside the window; then the door creaked,
and she thought to herself some one was trying to lift the
latch; then she tried to take some comfort by remembering
how many times she had been deceived in the same way before ;
and finally she went round to see that every door and window
was carefully barred and bolted. “Now,” she said to herself,
“Tam safe this stormy night, at all events.” So she sat down
again in her corner. But stay—surely she did hear something,
a slight grating noise; and then a flicker passed suddenly across
the room. Christine jumped up-—this time there could be no
doubt somebody was trying to get into the house.

But where could the light have come from? Ah! from a
quarter where she least expected it. I don’t think any of
you will guess. It came from the chimney.



22 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

I must tell you that it was one of those wide, old-fashioned
chimneys that are only to be found in cottages built many
years ago. This one was so large, that two men could easily go
up or down it at the same time. Well, these young lads had
got a rope, had tied it round their waists, and were letting
themselves down the chimney.

You may imagine the poor girl’s horror when she heard
them slowly descending, and, as she thought, for the purpose
of robbing, and then murdering her. Her first impulse
naturally was to scream; but she luckily remembered that
it would be useless, as there was no one who could either
hear her, or come to her assistance. Her next thought was
to hide, so that the robbers might imagine she was not there.

This was the work of a moment: she knew of a hiding-place
in the roof, and she had just gained this at the peril of her
life, owing to the difficulty of finding her way in the dark up
a narrow ladder, and over the beams and rafters of wood, when
she heard the men yelling with rage, and she knew by that,
that they had reached the kitchen, and not found her. Soon she
trembled again with dismay when she heard them begin their
search through the house, swearing strange oaths, and ran-
sacking every corner and cupboard, in the hopes of finding
her.

Poor Christine! she is getting on in years now, and has had
many troubles, and many sorrows; but she has often told me
that nothing could ever surpass the horrors of that night. It



THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 23

does not seem so terrible to you, as you know that they did
not mean to hurt her seriously; but poor Christine, shivering
and shaking in her dark corner in the roof, thought that her
last hour was come. I am sure my Darlings’ kind little hearts
will pity her, when they think of her sitting there, with the
cold wind howling round the house, and the rain beating in
between the rafters.

At last, when things seemed to be a little quieter, and she
was beginning to think that now she was safe, she heard one
of the men ascending the steep wooden ladder that led up to
the roof. Now, indeed, she was lost. She could not stir; her
lips only moved as she inwardly implored the protection of
‘all the Saints. They have saved her, she thinks; all is well
again. The man came to the top of the ladder, held up his
lantern, cast one glance around, and hurried down again, glad
to escape, from the wind and cold, to the comfortable kitchen
below, where his companions had lighted a small fire, and
were smoking their pipes, in the firm belief that the house had
been left untenanted for the night.

In this way several weary hours passed; the men below
smoking and playing at cards, till, just as the dawn was break-
ing, a low tap was heard at the door, and some one called gently,
“Christine.” The three young men jumped up in a great
fright, forgetting all about old Jacques, and proceeded to make
their escape as quickly as possible. Two, by means of the
rope, quickly hauled themselves up the chimney again, while the

Cc



24 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

third and youngest jumped up the steep ladder, thinking he was
sure to find some means of escape by the roof; but, missing his







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again, cutting his head ;





against the sharp corner
of the kitchen fire-place.
Christine, in her dark | /
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turbance and escape of the





Wy
men, but could not under- ° 4 ‘y ‘ WSO





THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 25

stand the reason of their hurried departure, as she could
not hear the tapping at the door; and besides, she never ex-
pected her father home at that hour. She waited a little while,
and when it was getting light, she ventured slowly, and with
much fear, to creep gently down the ladder; but what was
her horror and astonishment when, on reaching the bottom,
she saw one of the supposed robbers stretched on the ground,
and bleeding from a deep wound at the side of his head.

Christine’s first impulse was to fly back again to her hiding-
place; but. pity induced her to kneel down by his side, and
ascertain if he was really hurt. She found that he was only
stunned; and that the wound in his head appeared more serious
' than it really was. Besides, on closer examination, he did not
look so formidable: he was young like herself, about seventeen,
with soft brown hair, and regular features.

Christine thought to herself, as she sprinkled some water
over his head and face, that such as he could not be a robber
and murderer. But then, why had they come there? In a
few minutes the boy opened his eyes, and looked around, spell-
bound, to find a pretty girl bathing his face. Suddenly, as
he and Christine were gazing at each other, there came the
low tap at the door again, and the boy remembered the cruel
purpose that had brought him there, and that it was that
very knocking at the door that had so startled him and his
companions. In hurried accents he told his tale, and ended
by imploring Christine to hide him anywhere for the time, till

C2



26 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

he felt well enough to make his escape. He told her that he,
too, was French, and that she could not refuse to help her own
countryman.

For one moment the girl hesitated. She thought to herself
of all that had happened in the night; but one long, pleading
look from Frangois gained the day. You must remember that
Christine did not know who was tapping at the door. She
had never known her father come home so early before, and
thought it might be some one from the farm where her friends
lived. All this time the tapping at the door was getting
louder, and the summons more vehement.

Christine hesitated no longer; together, they gained the top
of the ladder, a few sacks were thrown down for him to lie on,
and Francois was installed in poor Christine’s place. When
there, he had many hours of weariness to pass, during which
he dared not stir, and which he occupied by thinking over the
unmanly part he had acted, and in making resolutions for the
future. I will only say, that when he was set at liberty the
next evening, he inwardly vowed that, on some future day, he
would repay Christine for all the suffering he had caused her.
As for her, the lonely house had become more than ever dis-
tasteful and solitary ; and she, at last, persuaded her old father
to return to Melbourne, and live there, on the plea that he was
getting too infirm to walk so far. :

* #* # * *® * *

Eight years have elapsed, and the Sun is once more smiling



THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 27

in the horizon, when Christine stands on the pier at Melbourne,
looking out at the ships, the harbour, and the busy, bustling
scene. Her father is dead; and she feels strangely alone amidst
all this crowd. Her thoughts wander back to the old days,
when she was poor, and had few friends. She is well-off now,
and has many friends; but they cannot shut out the remem-
brance of a fair, boyish face, and two pleading eyes—‘ Chris-
tine” —“ Francois’”—and the two eyes are there, gazing at her
with their old look of love.

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“ Christine,” a voice said, “I have come to you to heal me
of a wound. You did so once before; but this time it is a far

!



28 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

deeper one. I have been to other countries, and seen many
_ things; but wherever I went, I carried my heart-wound with
me. Will you heal it?”

Need I tell you what Christine’s answer was? It was only a
little word—*“ Yes.” But happy tears stood in her blue eyes,
and the world seemed all of a sudden changed ; no longer a
hard-working, lonely world, but a bright and glorious land,
with happiness and truth at every turn.

Together they watched the setting Sun, spreading a golden
halo on all around. He was looking at them, though they
knew it not; blessing them, and praying that some day they
should walk hand in hand, in a far. brighter and more glorious
land—a heavenly one.














































“THERE WAS A SMALL CAVE, TOO, AMONG THE ROCKS, WITH
TINY POOLS OF WATER IN Iv.”



BABY ZACH,




\ NCE upon a time—that is a very old way of
} beginning a story, but it has a never-
ending, pleasant sound to little Darlings ;
and I can see one tiny lady settle herself
‘in her chair, with a thrill of delight, as
she hears the well-known words—“ Once upon
a time,” there was a family of children, four of
them, two boys and two girls. The eldest was
a boy, then came the two girls, and the
youngest was a dear, baby-boy of two years old.
They were all nearly the same age, as the eldest,
Louis, was only seven; so they were capital
companions for one another.

Their parents were good people, who took great care to bring
them up to be loving and kind to each other; and they did
dearly love each other, though they loved their parents best.
These children lived in a charming place, on the sea-shore, in
a beautiful land called Italy. The Sun is so fond of this land,



32 BABY ZACH,

that he is loth to leave it when evening comes. So glorious
are the sunsets there, that it seems as if he could not tear
himself away from the vineyards, and orange groves, and palm
trees. There were plenty of these here to tempt him to linger
yet a little while; and besides, the children loved, in the even-
ing, to wander down the garden slopes of their lovely home,
and watch his rays, and talk to him. Then he would fain
stop a few moments longer, and look at them: the Sun loves
all Darlings.

Sometimes they would see a little boat sailing away, with
its sail spread to catch the evening breeze, and it would
seem gradually to disappear in a flood of gold and crimson ;
then little Louis and Catherine would clap their hands, and
weave stories in their minds of lands to which the boat had
gone, and where everything was rose-colour and delicious;
large apples, big sweetmeats, and pleasure all the livelong day.
Then when they had said good-night to the dear Sun, and
bid him shine in at their windows the next morning, they
would pray God to bless father and mother; and all dropped
fast asleep.

Not all: the dear baby was sometimes very ill, and could
not sleep at night. They were all very loving and fond of
him; and when he was well, his mother would take him out
to play on the beach; and Louis would be so proud when
she allowed him to go just a little way off, and take care
of baby, and pick up shells for him; and baby, in his own



BABY ZACH. 33

little way, worshipped Louis, and would follow wherever
he went.

I forgot to tell you, that, dear as he was, he had a very ugly
name. I don’t remember why he was called Zachary; but we
all agreed that we should have chosen something prettier. To
make the best of it, we always called him Zach, or more often
Baby Zach. Well, little master Zach was as pleased to go on
the beach as the others, and they would all clamber about
the rocks, and each try to do more than the others—jumping
over this pool, and climbing up that difficult place; and if
Zach could not manage it, then Louis used to haul him up by
his arm, and the little fellow would scream with delight.

There was a small cave, too, among the rocks, with tiny pools
of water in it: when the sea was rough, then the pools became
much larger, and the great waves washed quite into the cave.
At those times their mother would never let the children go
there; they could only watch the waves from the garden
terrace. On fine, hot summer days, how they did love to sit in
the cool cave, making little rush-boats to swim in the pools,
with rushes they had picked the day before, and digging great
holes in the beach to find pebbles !

Not very far from their pretty garden was a wood, with tall
fir-trees and shady nooks; it was a spot where the children
loved to wander, and sit by the side of a running stream, that
flowed gently down to the sea, watching the birds and insects ;
and sometimes, if they were very quick, they would see a little



34 BABY ZACH.

fish swimming down the stream, on his way to have a look at
the world in the great salt ocean.

One day in autumn, the weather was no longer so hot and
sultry ; there was a delicious cool breeze coming up from the
sea, and Louis said—

“Oh, Katie, would it not be nice to go and spend the evening
in the wood? Let us go and ask mother.” ‘The others were
delighted at the idea; and Louis, followed by Catherine and
Lily, rushed into the house to get their mother’s leave.

Mother was just then reading to Baby Zach, and showing
him pictures. Well, directly Zach heard of the expedition,
he could not bear being left behind, but wanted to go too.
Mother said she would not hear of such a thing—no, she could
not trust her Darling to go so far, and alone with the children.
But Louis begged so hard, and Zach begged so hard, that she
did not know how to refuse them; it was so difficult to say
“No” to little Zach, when he looked at her with those
beseeching eyes.

“Oh, mother,” said Louis, “if you will only trust me, and
let him come, I will take such care of him! He shall never be
out of my sight: only this once.” ;

“But Louis, I have so often tried to trust you, and you know
how often you have failed. You do not mean to forget; but
you are thoughtless, my boy, and Zach is very precious.”

“Me will be very dood, me will; me won’t ply,” said Zach,
in his baby way.



BABY ZACH. 35

“ Mother, now you will trust me, just once more; it is such
a beautiful evening, and we will come home early, won’t we
Katie? We will come home in an hour, if you like; only
trust me once more.” :

At last, very reluctantly, the mother gave her consent, and
said they might take Zach with them to the wood, but they
were to be home in an hour. They started off with shouts
of joy, Louis walking carefully along, leading baby by the hand,
while Katie and Lily danced along in front. They soon got
to the wood, and found their favourite spot—a nice bit of soft
green turf, with a few rocks to lean against, close to the little
running brook. At first they picked flowers and rushes, and
ran about, and were as merry as larks; then they got tired, and
sat down, and began to talk.

“T,” said Louis, “shall be a great man when I growup. I
don’t want to stay here all my life; I mean to be a soldier,
and win great battles.”

There was a murmuring among the trees; and if the little
children had listened, they would have heard the Fir-tree say,
“ Ambitious, selfish,” and shake its tall head.

“Tt is a grand thing to be a soldier, and fight battles,”
continued Louis; and, in his excitement, he began striking an
imaginary foe with his stick. “Think of riding home after
the victory, and every one praising you, and the bells ringing,
and people bowing down to you as a conqueror!”

“Proud,” murmured the Elm-tree, and its leaves trembled.



36 BABY ZACH.

“Ah, but Louis,” said Katie, “think of the poor wounded
men, and suppose you got a wound; I could not bear that :”
and the tears stood in her soft eyes at the very idea.

Ahh byt
1s)



“T suppose I should bear it like other people, Katie; but
let us suppose that I shall not get a wound. That will be
much pleasanter.”

‘Selfish and cruel,” spoke the Fir-tree, and there was quite
a rustling of indignation among the others; but the kind-
hearted, gentle Willow could not bear to hear her Darling con-
demned, and she whispered softly, “‘ Not so, only thoughtless.”



BABY ZACH. 37

Then the conscientious Fir-tree lifted up its lofty head, and
said—

“He has no feeling heart for the woes of others; he will
trample down everything to satisfy his ambition.” And the
Willow wept bitter tears, for she loved the brave boy, with all
his faults.

“ Ha, ha, Katie, what will you say when you see me march
into the town, victorious, at the head of my army, and the
King come out to meet me, and all”——Ah! what was that?
There was a splash and a scream—Baby Zach had fallen into
the brook.

I cannot describe to you what Louis felt, poor boy, and
after all his boasting to his mother about taking care of
Zach. How could she ever trust him again ?

Ah, me! JI am afraid the trees were right; and when they
saw what had happened, they whispered it to the breeze, and
the breeze carried it to the waves, and the waves sang a song,
and the words of the song were—

“No trust, no trust.”’

Louis heard them all this time; and he thought to himself,
“Tf the trees and the waves say this, what will mother say
when I tell her?”

They took little Zach home; he did not seem much hurt—
only frightened, and very wet. Mother looked at Louis when
they came in; she did not speak to him; her look was sufficient.



38 BABY ZACH.

Poor Louis turned away heart-broken. This, then, was the end
of all his dreams, that he should, perhaps, have lost his own
Darling brother, his pet. He lay down, and wished that he
could die too. Later on, when his mother came out of Zach’s
room, she found him lying at the door, waiting for tidings.
«Say, mother, he won’t die! Oh! say it; I could not bear it,”
he cried.

“No, Darling, he will not die, but he has had a great shock,
and we must all be very quiet. You must help me to nurse
him, by taking care of your sisters while I am busy. I have
heard all about it from Zach, and he says it was his own
fault.”

“Oh, Iam sure it was all mine,” said Louis; “I was think-
ing of something else.”

But his mother thought to herself it was her fault, for
putting so much care and responsibility on a little boy; for,
after all, he was only a little boy, and she felt very tender
towards him when she saw his grief.

The end of it all was, that next spring the dear baby died.
Louis would not be consoled at first; and he would often
wander into the wood, to the place where they had sat and
played that lovely autumn evening, and think how happy
they had been; and in his sorrow he would accuse himself
of Zach’s death. But his mother took great pains to tell
him that the fall had nothing to do with it; and that
clever men had said, that Baby Zach could never have



BABY ZACH. 39

grown up to be a man, and that he was far happier than
they were.





















After a little while, Louis tried hard to believe it; and he
would go to Zach’s grave, with Katie and Lily, and watch
the Crocuses and Snow-drops coming up that their mother had
planted.

And the Snow-drops would bow their heads together, and
say, “Kind and unselfish;” and the Golden Crocus would
answer, “ Zach is looking at you, and loving you;” and the
Lilac Crocus would echo, “ Thoughtful for others.” Then Louis



40 BABY ZACH.

would feel proud when he heard the flowers whispering together,
and giving him courage; and he would answer—
“And so, please God, I will try to be thoughtful for others,
for Zach’s sake.”
When the trees heard him say this, they whispered it to the
breeze, and the breeze carried it to the waves, and the waves
murmured a new song, and the words of the new song were—

‘“‘ Hope for the future—hope for the future.”













































bee





NA
PL til

i a if

it

j
iI 7 I

NNT
tl































































































































in

if



ys

lis











“ PAITH WOULD LIFT UP HER CROSS, AND SPEAK TO THEM
OF THE KING’S SON.”



THE THREE SISTERS.

WONDER if any of my Darlings have
heard of the Three Sisters, and their
journey to the promised land. They lived
on a great round ball, which is called the
earth, and they were not very happy
-? there: sometimes they were, but not very
often. Whenever these happy days did
come, they marked them down on white
tablets, that each sister carried by her side.

The names of these Three Sisters were Faith, Hope, and
Charity; and they were so fond of each other, that one could
not live without the other. At times, Charity would fall sick ;
this was after one of her wanderings about the earth to help.
the sick and needy, when she would sometimes come home with
hardly a rag to cover her, and in sore need of food and comfort.
But Hope and Faith would be waiting at the door to welcome
her home again; and then, when she was getting better, they
would each start off on a journey of their own.

They never all three left home at the same time, for fear some
D






44 THE THREE SISTERS.

one should want them. For they were so much loved, that
people from all parts of the earth would come to them for help
and sympathy. Old and young, middle-aged and babies, they
all came, numbers and numbers of them, crowding round the
door of the sisters’ house; and little children would climb in
at the windows, and cry for Charity. Every one had their
favourite sister. Faith was most sought after by the old—
those who had been toiling a long time in the heat of the
Sun, and were very weary: the promised land seemed to them
so far distant, and the King of Kings still delayed his coming.
Then, in their weariness, they came to Faith; and she, with
her fine noble countenance lifted up, would show them her
cross, and speak to them of the King’s Son, and of the reward
promised to all those who had faith in him; and how every
day that was well spent, brought them nearer and nearer to
the long-looked-for end.

Then would they wipe away their tears, and go home again,
with their burdens lightened.

The young would come to Hope. Those, who were at the
beginning of their journey through life, would tell her bright
stories of what they were going to do, and of the victories they
should win; and Hope would smile, and cheer them on their
way; though with her far-seeing eyes she would look forward,
and could see that the “race is not always for the swift, nor the
battle for the strong.”

Then, also, would come to Hope those who were sore disap-



THE THREE SISTERS. 45

pointed, and who were suffering from sharp thorns; and she
would whisper words of comfort in their ear, and tell them that
the pangs of sorrow are short and sharp, and would speak of
better days to come, when the Sun would again shine brightly,
and their tears would be tears of joy.

But it was to Charity that the little children would mostly
come: they would crowd round her, hanging on to her white
skirts, her hands, her knees—anything they could reach. Some
would bring flowers and presents for her, and happy loving
smiles that did her heart good; while others would often show
little tear-stained faces, and heavy aches and pains. To these,
she did what she best could to comfort and relieve them; and
even if their pain felt no better, still their hearts felt lighter,
for had not Charity kissed them ? ..

Shall I tell you what made the children all cling to her so
dearly? It was, because there was an unseen angel hovering
about her: that angel’s name was “ Love,” the most beautiful
angel that the Almighty ever sent into human hearts to lessen
the evils of sin.

The Three Sisters, as I told. you before, lived in one home;
and though they could not be really happy on the earth, on
account of all the suffering they saw, still they knew that their
presence lightened the woes of men, and they were therefore
content to remain as long ‘as their King saw fit. Charity
generally went alone, and in the dark, on her errands of mercy ;
but Faith and Hope worked together. When a father’ was

D2



46 THE THREE SISTERS.

about to lose his son, who lay sick, or a wife the husband of
her. youth, then Hope, who had entered unbidden the sick
chamber, would remain there till the loved eyelids were closed.
Her work accomplished, she would draw her mantle across her
face, and steal away quietly; then, meeting Faith at the door,
would bid her go in. At first, Faith would meet with many a
repulse; she was not so kindly welcomed as her sisters; but when
once she had gained admittance, she was loved even more than
they; and those, who clung to her, found they had anchored
on a rock,

One day, early in the morning, the summons came to the
Three Sisters, to leave their earthly home, and go to the
promised land. They were very glad of this, though they knew
they had a toilsome journey before them, ere they could reach
the golden city. They rose up directly, and began to prepare
themselves. Faith took nothing in her hand but her cross, and
was ready in a few minutes. Hope was the next; she put ona
bright robe of blue, wishing to appear radiant in the eyes
of the King; and with sandals on her feet, and a white
banner on her shoulder, she felt certain that she would be the
first. to reach the gates. Charity was the last to be ready: she
was quite as eager for the journey as her sisters, but her kind
heart prompted her to arrange so much for the good of the earthly
friends they left behind, and to take so much for those they
might meet on the way, that Faith and Hope had many times
to call her before she was ready to start.



THE THREE SISTERS, 47

However, at last they set out. The first day’s journey lay
in smooth paths, and at night Faith lighted a torch to guide
their steps.) The next day’s journey was not quite so easy:
Hope began to flag, and her blue robe to look soiled; and
Charity often lagged behind to say a word to those they met on
the way; but Faith held on without wavering, her eyes straining
forward for the first glimpse of the heavenly gates.

Soon they came to a large city; and directly the people
there caught sight of the Three Sisters, numbers came out to
meet them: a few clung to Faith, and entreated to be allowed
to follow her, as they also were on their way to the great goal,
- and were only resting on the way. Many were taken by Hope’s
ready smile and winning way, and enlisted under the white
floating banner; but it would be impossible for me to tell you
the numbers that crowded round Charity. They kissed her feet
and her hands, and showered blessings on her, while she poured
out her gifts and smiles on all, without choosing; for Charity is
blind to the faults of her neighbours. So, after resting a short
time, they all started afresh; but this time they were a goodly
company. There were the old, blind, and lame, and little chil-
dren, all following and clinging to Charity. Soon she was left far
behind her sisters; for the little ones could not walk fast, and
Charity would not leave them behind. So it fell out that Hope
and Faith walked on together, and the next day Charity was no-
where to be seen: nevertheless they continued their way with-
out her, knowing that some day they would meet again.



48 THE THREE SISTERS.

The journey was a perilous one in many places, rough and
thorny to the feet; and many of those who had followed Hope,
turned round again, and endeavoured to find a smoother path.
The beautiful white banner trailed in the dust, and the blue



robe was torn and stained; but Faith cheered her sister on, and
together they reached the bottom of the hill on which the
golden city stands.

When Hope lifted up her weary eyes, and saw the light shin-
ing, she girded up her strength again; the soiled banner was
lifted up once more; and then, followed by those few who still
clung to. her, she pressed forward up the hill. Onward they go,



THE THREE SISTERS, 49

the light getting brighter and brighter, and dazzling their
earthly eyes; but no obstacle can stop them now. ‘The end is
at hand—close by—they are even at the gate!

Faith is left far behind!

With an eager hand, Hope knocks at the golden gate—there
isno answer. She knocks again and again—

She hears the rustling of angels’ wings, and sees the glory
shining from their crowns; but the heavenly gate still remains
shut. She cannot tell the meaning of this; and, with uplifted
hand, she waits until Faith and her followers have toiled slowly
and steadily up the hill.

Faith wondered at seeing her sister still there; but, in her
loving-kindness, asked no questions, thinking they would all go
in together. She raises her cross on high to strike; but before
she can do so, the portals open wide, and they hear a burst of
heavenly music, such as they have never heard before. Faith
enters with her glowing face, and those who had followed her
enter too, sadly conscious of their sins, and how unfit they are to
live in such a city till they have been purified and blessed by
the King’s Son.

After Faith has passed in, the gates still remain open, waiting
for Charity. Hope would fain enter now; but an angel, with a
stern yet loving face, bars the way, and casting down her eyes,
whispered to her—

“None can enter here through Hope alone.”

And a voice coming from afar off, repeats in her wearied ears—



50 THE THREE SISTERS.

“ You trusted too much to your own merits.”

Poor Hope—it was indeed a sad fall for her; she had been so
confident, so sure of winning her crown: she had arrived first of
all at the great gate, and now she was denied admission, and
could only sit at the entrance, and look upon the glories she
might not share.

The banner, no longer white and glorious, but torn and
stained, lay on the ground, and Hope crouched down beside it,
obedient to the angel’s mandate; but, in her deep humility,
craving leave to gaze upon the lovely sight.

And she saw a beautiful city—the New Jerusalem, with a wall
round it; and in the wall there were twelve gates, and at the
twelve gates stood twelve angels, with their names written on
their foreheads. And the city was of pure gold, and was
garnished with ali manner of precious stones ; and in the midst
of it ran the River of Life, clear as crystal. Oh! how Hope
longed to drink of that-river !—how she would have knelt down,
and bathed her brow in its cool waters, and drunk her salvation !

But this was not for her: and as she thought. of all she had
lost, her head sank still lower, and she felt that she was, indeed,
unworthy to be there.

The angelsat the gate, when they saw this, lifted up their
voices, and sang for joy; for they knew, though Hope did not,
that she was nearer to Heaven now, in her heart-felt repentance,
than when she first arrived at the gate.

She saw Faith and her followers walk up to one of the twelve



THE THREE SISTERS. 51

gates, amidst the throngs of angels, and watched them, while
they were clothed in white robes, and signed with the King’s
seal, and sent on their way rejoicing.

As she was pondering on all these things, Hope suddenly
heard a greater burst of music than before, and saw a number
of angels spreading their white wings, and coming down
towards her. Her poor heart fluttered—it surely could not be
for her that they were coming? No, they were looking down
the hill. She turned, and saw her sister Charity approaching,
with a vast multitude following behind her. The angels were
coming down to welcome their best-beloved !

Charity was so surrounded by little ones, that at first she did
not perceive her sister, and was just going in, when she caught
a glimpse of her blue robe. Charity instantly fell upon her neck,
and kissed her, and would have taken her in with her; but the
angels covered their faces, and said, *‘ Not so, not so.”

Charity fell on her knees, and prayed, and wept bitterly; but
it was of no avail. So she rose up again, and passed in, saying
to Hope—

“T will go to the King’s Son, and cast myself at his feet, and
supplicate him, and’he will not refuse me.”

The gates closéd behind her, and left one sorrowing. But
soon her sorrow was turned into joy; for, with a burst of
trumpets and song, they were opened again, and Hope raised
her eyes, and “saw Charity coming down to meet her, with a
crown of gold upon her head, and a palm-leaf in her hand.



52 THE THREE SISTERS.

Hope rose up, and fell into her arms; and as they passed
together through the heavenly gates, the voice from afar off
sounded as before; only this time it said—

“For Charity’s sake, inasmuch as she did it unto the least of
these, she did it unto Me.”
















































































































































































































































































































































































“THE KING AND THE WHITE BEAR WENT IN FIRST, AND THE
CHILDREN CROWDED IN AFTER THEM.”



THE QARTZ KING.

A, ha,” said the Sun one morning to
the Darlings, “how you would have
liked to have seen the dinner and
! the fun that I heard of one day.”
at It was a long time ago, in the Year
< 101: you see I was then 100 years old,
BS y -/ having been born in the Year 1; quite a
oe \ chicken of a Sun then, considering Iam now
' many thousands of years old: but though I
am an old fellow, I make use of my eyes and
f ears as much as ever. No fear of my getting
\y blind and deaf, as some little Darlings would
like their schoolmasters to be; so mind what you are all
about, and be good children, or some day the Sun will not get
up at all; he will stay in bed the whole twenty-four hours,
and then the Darlings will all have to do the same.
_ Well, there were Darlings in the Year 101, just as there are
now in 1870. Indeed, I am not at all sure that they were






56 THE HARTZ KING.

not greater ones; but perhaps it was that then I had not seen
so many of them. Now, one day, the King of the Hartz
Mountains determined to ask them all to dinner and tea, and.
astonish their little minds; and you shall hear all about it.

First of all, I must tell you that he lived under a great
mountain; and though it was very easy for him, who was a
Genii, and a King Genii, to wish himself in his arm-chair on
the left-hand side of his fire-place, it would have been of no
use for mortal Darlings to wish themselves there: they might
have wished and wished, till they wished themselves into
whipping-posts. So he went, first of all, to the Lion, as being
a King like himself, and asked his opinion. But the Lion was
a wise beast, and only shook his mane, and said his opinion
was precisely similar to the King’s.

This put the King in a terrible rage; and he swore so loud,
that it caused a great earthquake above ground, and two large
towns and ten small villages were swallowed up by it. After
this, he went on a little further, and paid a visit to the Bear,
and asked him what he thought about it. The Bear was a
great white fellow, and had just made his dinner off ten sheep,
ten oxen, and ten pigs; and, in consequence, felt very sleepy,
and not at all inclined to talk; so he only opened one eye
when the King came in, and said, “ Yes.”

This made the King more angry still, and he gave the White
Bear a great kick; upon which the Bear called out, in a still
louder voice, “ No,” which was just as bad.



THE HARTZ KING. 57

At last, he went round to all the animals, in turn, that he
could think of, and asked each his opinion about making a way

























for the Darlings to come and dine in his underground palace.
Some said very silly things, and some said such wise ones, that



58 THE HARTZ KING.

nobody could understand them; but at last, somebody else said
that an Ambassador from the Mice country would like-to speak
to the King.

** Show him in,” said the King, “and make haste about it, as
I want to sneeze.”

So the Ambassador was ushered in. He was a little, old, grey
Mouse, in a scarlet coat and hat; and he proceeded to tell them,
that the Mice in his land would undertake to bore a hole from
the inside of the mountain to the outside, provided all the Cats
in the neighbouring countries were destroyed every year for
the next hundred years. Of course, the King said “ Yes” im-
mediately, for he really could think of no better way of making
a road; but he thought to himself, “As to the Cats, Pl see
about that afterwards.”

So that matter settled, and the Mice having begun to work,
he set about fixing a day for the entertainment; and being
rather stupid, he fixed upon a Sunday: but then, you know,
living inside a mountain as he did, he could not be expected to
know much about the days of the week, or what went on outside.

Naturally, all the earth Darlings. said they could not come
on Sunday; and then, what did he do, but he fixed on a
Saturday! That was nearly as bad, on account of next Sunday
morning, and the children getting to bed late, and giving their
mothers extra trouble. So he really did not know what to do.
At last, one of the children who were invited, said to him—

“Why not Monday, Mr. King ?—because you see we are



THE HARTZ KING. 59

always good at the beginning of the week, and then we get
tired of it at the end. Now, if we come on Monday, we shall
all be good.”

So it was settled that Maa was to be the day; and thé
Hartz King sent out bis invitations on a fine big card, printed
red, blue, and yellow: it was written also in a fine big hand,
so that every one could read it, and said that dinner would be
ready at two o’clock, and that all Darlings who wished to come
were not to be later at the door of the mountain than half-
past one; also, they were not to be more than nine years old,
and no nurses were to be admitted. The King wished to have
the little ducks all to himself.

Monday came; and it was a very fine gathering indeed! As
I was very anxious to see them well, I determined that it
should be a brilliant day; so I came out quite early in the
morning, about seven o’clock, and watched till they arrived.
Not that I was idle all that time; for I was peeping in at
one house, then into another; drying some clothes in the
gardens; helping a few flowers to grow that were not very
strong; cheering the hearts of every one I could see: in short,
I was very busy. The birds and flowers all seemed pleased to
see me, and so, I think, were the Darlings; for I looked in at
several windows, and saw them preparing for the feast; some
in red sashes, some in blue, some in green, but all looking
clean and good; and when they saw me—dear! dear! how they
did clap their little hands for joy!



60 THE HARTZ KING.

Well, half-past one o’clock came, and there I was at the
entrance, putting on my best appearance, too, when they began
to arrive—crowds of them, boys and girls; I don’t know how
many. I only know that I thought they would never stop
coming; and that if all these toddles, big and small, were to
grow up to be men and women, poor Mr. Sun had a good
many years’ work before him, if he was to shine upon them
all. When the last child had passed through the door, it was
shut, and I saw no more; I looked down the passage for
a few moments, and saw that it was rather dark; and the rest
of the story I heard from the Darlings themselves the next day.
Ob! how they did chatter, chatter, chatter; and of course I
listened to every word. _

When once they had gone in, and the door was shut, I
knew that there was no use in my waiting, for they would
not come out again till long past my bed-time; and you know,
whatever anybody else does, Mr. Sun has to be very puncte
and cannot play any tricks with time.

Now for what I heard afterwards. When the Darlings first
went in, they were conducted down the passage by two. blacka-
moors, dressed in black, as far as a door which was guarded
by two great fierce-looking lions. The little ones were rather
- frightened at these, as you may imagine; but the bigger ones
told them not to cry, as they were only china. So they went
on through the door, where they were met by two red men,
dressed all in red, who conducted them through a bright red



THE HARTZ KING. 61

room to another door, where they saw lying on each side two
snakes! Just as they were passing these very carefully, for fear
of touching them, one little boy cried out that they were made





































| of gingerbread, so they all fell-to
at ouce, and began to eat little
bits; but the snake hallooed so
loud, that they ran off as hard as
they could into the next room,
which was blue; and there they
were met by two blue men; and



so, on and on they went, till they came at last to a large
white room,
LK



62 THE HARTZ KING.

Thé King of the Hartz Mountains was sitting in this room,
on a magnificent glass throne, dressed in white, and covered
with jewels; and on his right hand sat the great White Bear,
who had woke up from his sleep.

The King was delighted to see his earth Darlings, and shook
hands with them all, and then told them not to be afraid of
his friend, the White Bear. Mr. Bear, His Majesty said, was
very fond of good Monday children, and never wished to eat
them; but if any of them misbehaved, they mould run the

chance of getting a good hue.

The children had never seen so much splendour before—such
gold and jewels, and such bright lights; but what most as-
tonished them was, to see a number of animals all walking
about, and talking just as they did themselves. Up above, on
the earth, they were accustomed to see dogs and monkeys, and
sheep and goats; but they never talked; and here were a
number of them all walking about arm-in-arm, and making
such a jabber. In fact, the Darlings were so bewildered by
all they saw and heard, that they forgot all about dinner;
and it was only when they heard a great flourish of trumpets,
and bells ringing out, “Come to dinner!” “Come to dinner!”
that each thought to himself, “ Well, I shan’t be sorry; I
am very hungry.”

The King and the White Bear went in first, and then the
children all crowded in after them. The dinner was laid in a

large hall, with the ceiling reaching up to an enormous height—



THE HARTZ KING. 63

so far, that many of the little ones could not see the top; and
it was lighted with great suns of fire. The tables were laid on.
each side of this hall; with room for the servants to walk down
the middle, and wait upon the guests.

The walls of the hall were hung with skins of wild beasts,
- bordered with silver, and diamond eyes, that glittered: then the
carpet was gold; the table-cloth was gold; and all the plates,
dishes, and cups to drink out of, were all made of gold; and
whispers went down the table, and round the table, and up
the table, and all down and round, and up and about,
saying, “Is it not grand?” “Did you ever see anything
like this ?”

Well, in a short time, the children were all seated, and
beginning to eat: there was everything there that could be
eaten, in season and out of season; and I have no doubt, if
the naughty little boy in the story-book, who cried for the
oyster patties, had been present at this dinner, he would have
found them there, all hot.

There were plenty of footmen to wait and hand the things;
but the curious part about these footmen was, that they had
such funny faces. They were quite black; their eyes were two
diamonds; the nose was a great white pearl; and two rubies
for the lips. Some of the children did nothing but stare at
them; and I must say, that I think it sounds very extra-
ordinary; and I cannot think from what part of the world they
could have come. ,

E2



64: THE HARTZ KING.’

. Then there were some ladies that seemed made of bread
and butter, with something red inside; and it was whispered
about that they came from the Sandwich Islands. Was not
that funny ?

Besides all these, there was a Donkey, that did nothing all
the evening but heave great sighs, and wish something or
other: he was perpetually saying, “I do wish I could do that !”
But nobody seemed to take any notice of him; so he went on
wishing by himself, and I dare say he is wishing still. For my
part, I should like him to say, “I wish I was not such an ass ‘”
_ At last, after a very long time, the dinner was over. I
believe it was over because the children said they really could
not eat any more; not because there was no more to eat, for
the Hartz King’s kitchen is like a great volcano, always
boiling, and always throwing up things to eat. When dessert
was put on the table, the King began to play funny tricks upon
some of those who sat nearest to him. There. was one little
boy, about seven years old, who seemed rather greedy, so the
King asked him if he would not like to have some straw-
berries ?

“(Q yes,” said the boy, “very much indeed;” and his eyes
quite sparkled at the idea.

The King put some on his plate, and Dick (that was the
boy’s name) put. one into his mouth. But when he tried to
bite and swallow it, he found it was quite hard, like stone:
he thought there must be some mistake, and-he put another



THE HARTZ KING. 65

into his mouth. This: time, he ‘said ‘to himself, it must be all
right, as he had tried it on his plate first, and it was quite
soft, and looked so tempting; but, to his horror, when he
began to bite it, he found it was the same as the first, quite
hard. Poor Dick, he could not understand it at all. There
they were lying on his plate, and looking so red .and ripe and
delicious, and the moment he tried to eat them, they got quite
stony.

At last, Dick looked at the child sitting next to him—a dear
little girl. Yes, she was eating her’s all right. What could it
all mean? Then he looked up at the King, who caught his
eye, and said to him, “ Well, Dick, why don’t you eat your
strawberries—don’t you like them ?”

At this, poor Dick got very red and confused, for he knew
he did like them very much, and was dying to eat them;
besides, he felt he was looking rather foolish. So he stam-
mered out that he thought there must be something the
matter with them. “O dear, no,” said the King: “here, give
them to me.” Dick handed his plate, and the King gave one
of the strawberries to the little. girl Lucy, who said it was
quite delicious.

Seeing this, greedy Dick snatched his plate back very
quickly, and began to try again. But no, it was not possible:
there they were, just as hard as. before. Then, I am afraid
there was a something came into his eyes like great rain-drops;
but just as they were going to fail, two monkeys came and



66 THE HARTZ KING.

snatched them away, and said they would make capital balls
for them to roll about and play with.





The King saw all this; and as he did not wish to make
any one really unhappy at his feast, he told the strawberries on
Dick’s plate to: spell out the word “ Greedy.” When Dick saw
this, he thought to himself—

“Dear me, dear me! JI wonder how they could have found
that out? J am sure J never told them. Then the straw-
berries spelt out again these words—“ We are very good to eat.”



THE HARTZ KING. 67

“Yes, I know you are,” thought Dick; “and I should like to
eat you, but I can’t, so I won’t make any more fuss about it.”

And just then, one of the black footmen came by, and took
away his plate, so the poor boy was spared the pain of looking
at the delicious fruit that he could not eat.

Many more tricks like this did the Hartz King play his
little earth friends. One curly-headed girl could get nothing
to drink; but she was not greedy, and she laughed merrily, and
clapped her hands, at seeing the water-bottle run away, on two
little thin legs, every time she tried to touch it. While she
was still laughing, a great black Raven came, and perched itself
on the back of the Kiny’s chair, and began to make the most
dismal noises, and shake its head.

“ Well,” said the King, “and what do you want coming here
to croak ?—no one asked for your company.”

“Oh! oh! oh!” said the Raven; “it is very sad, sad, sad.”

“ What is sad?” asked the King, turning round tv look at. the
Raven; “and pray don’t shake your old head in that way:
why, it will come off, mau; and if it does, no one shall put it
on again.”

“Oh, ah! ah, oh!” croaked the bird; “the stomach-aches
that you will all have, and the headaches that you will all
have; and, ch dear me, the leg-aches you will all have!” and
the poor Raven nearly fell off the back of the chair, with the
excess of his emotion.

Then the King got angry, and sent him away to his hole in



68 THE HARTZ KING.

the roof; and told him, that if he came back out of it while the
feast lasted, his days should be shortened.

All this time the band was playing, and lights were gleam~-
ing from thousands of icicles of diamonds and emeralds, hang~
ing from the ceiling: it was a real fairy scene indeed. As soon
as dinner was over, they went into another hall; and here they
saw quantities of horses and animals perform numbers of tricks,
and dance on their hind legs. When they got tired of this,
they all said they should like to run and play in the garden.
Perhaps you may not believe it, but I can assure you it isa
fact, that the Hartz King had as beautiful a garden down
there, inside the mountain, as you ever saw above on the earth ;
for often and often, in the hot summer days, my rays have
penetrated the ground, as far as that famous garden, and I have
been delighted with all I saw. I think the children were
equally well pleased, and danced about merrily.

Before they went in, the King warned them that they were
not to touch the flowers, for fear something should hurt them.
As this is a true story, I am obliged to confess that some did
touch the flowers; but they got punished, as usual, for their
disobedience: or rather they punished themselves, as naughty
children generally do. One little boy (I rather believe it was
Dick again) got such a box on the ear from a great tall Sun-
flower, that he pulled rudely down to look at, that he wished
himself home again. But the good Darlings all ran about and
played, and were never so happy before; and they praised the



THE HARTZ KING. 69

flowers, and looked so long at the Roses, that the beautiful
creatures blushed with delight. And the Roses also looked at
the Darlings, and wished that they could stay there for ever,
and never grow any bigger. One little fairy thing, called
“* May,” went so close to a red, red Rose, that the Rose called
out to her, “ Kiss me quick.”



May had never heard a Rose speak before, and she ran away
in a great fright; but the voice of the Rose seemed to follow
her; and the next morning, when she awoke in her own little
bed, something whispered in her ear, “I am a red, red Rose;
kiss, kiss, kiss.” And I am sadly afraid from that, that the



70 THE HARTZ KING.

poor Rose down in the mountain garden was pining for love of
the earth Darling.

Well, it would be impossible for me to tell you all that
happened at this great entertainment. What 1 do know is,
that the fun grew fast and furious; that they played, danced,
sang, and, what is more, screamed to their hearts’ delight. I
heard one urchin say to two or three others, “ Let us go into
that corner and scream ;” just as if such a thing had never been
thought of before in their lives.

But all good things must come to an end; and after the
earth Darlings had all had tea, and drank it out of gold mugs,
and then had each kissed the King, and said gvod-bye, a great
trumpet was sounded, and all of a sudden the whole scene
vanished: and when the kind Sun opened their eyes the next
morning, they each found themselves in their little bed, and
each Darling was grasping a gold mug in his or her little hand ;
and on the mugs were written the Darling’s own name, and

these words :—






Pm ee
a

| &

vA



om from the goer




































































































































































































































































































































































ND BOTH FATHER AND MOTHER.”

‘POOR MARIE HAD AT LAST FOU



THE SISTER OF MERCY;

OR, LITTLE MARIE.







/__T was summer-time in Italy, and very hot.
ES" such a blazing hot summer had not been
known for many years; and the peasants
were all thanking their lucky stars, and
thinking of the splendid crops of grapes
and olives that they would have this year.
The vines were, indeed, groaning under their
heavy weight of superb bunches of fruit, and
the time for gathering them was close at hand;
indeed, in some parts, the vintage had already
begun.

Men, women, and the bigger children all
flocked out of the towns to help, and thus many houses were
left unguarded, and many little ones got into trouble; some



74 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

were more often left under the charge of an elder child; but
many were left to shift for themselves while their parents were
away.

It happened, one morning, that one of these little children
strayed further from the door than she intended, and lost her
way. She wandered about for many hours; but each hour,
as it went by, took her further from home; and at last, as





























































































































































































i is opin
S IW! Woh KE Sey.
WW" is if fi f Wa bole —
escorts Wig a_t ae
see , OD PANE HO
oe NP IN INS Lyf bpd) iy erie aay ae
. (LEDC a OM:
AKER LORY A VY pag oye ag
OE SE MES eh ee EOE AA Gr.

it got dusk, she lay down by the road-side, and cried herself
to sleep.



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 75

It was a fine, soft night, and the stars looked down wonder-
ingly at the little girl, and opened their round eyes with
astonishment to see her there; but though they whispered all
sorts of things to each other about her, she was too tired and
sleepy to hear them.

Next morning the dear child, somewhat refreshed, woke
up very happy, having forgotten all about her troubles, and
thinking she was going to have her breakfast; but when
she found herself sitting all alone, in a strange place, with
no one near her, then all her sorrows burst upon her afresh,
and the tears ran down her cheeks as if her heart would
break.

Poor little thing !—was it not sad? As the time wore
on she rose, and walked a little way, stopping from time to
time to pick a few flowers; for though she was so unhappy,
she still loved the bright things too much to pass them by
unheeded.

At last she came to a few cottages, and there a kind-hearted
woman gave her some delicious cool milk to drink, and told
her to go straight on down the wide road, and she would soon
come to the gates of the town of Florence, where, no doubt,
she would find her mother waiting for her. Alas! she was
only going further from home, every step that she took; but
the kind woman did not know that; and the little girl was only
five years old, and therefore could not explain clearly, where
she had come from. So she went straight on, as she had been



76 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

told, and soon arrived at the gates, and passed through them
into the town.

There she got very much bewildered, as you may imagine,
and wandered away till she got to the river Arno, that flows
through the town; but the Sun was so hot there, and the
reflection on the water so dazzling, that she turned again into
the streets. She asked a few people whom she met, where her
mother was; but they, thinking she was only begging, passed
on without paying any heed to her.

In this manner the little wanderer, weary and foot-sore,
arrived at the large square, called the “ Piazza del Duomo,” or
Cathedral Square; but she saw no beauty in the different
coloured marbles of which the Cathedral is built, or in the
graceful, lofty tower close by. She only saw, with grati-
tude, a little shade in one corner of the steps leading up
into the Cathedral; and, worn out, she lay down in this.
She did not know what she was about, or that, in her child-
ish ignoranve, she had chosen one of the hottest places in
the whole city; for the Sun’s rays fall on that Piazza with
tropical heat.

The morning grew, and the child fell fast asleep: one or
two persons, on their way out of the Cathedral, after morning
service, tried to rouse her; but, finding it useless, went on
their way.

At length, twelve o’clock came, and passed, and the Sun
cast down still fiercer rays on the city; and all those who



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 77

were able’ went home to shelter themselves from its great
heat—all but the little lost girl, who still lay on the steps
asleep; but by this time fast approaching that sleep which
has no waking.

Towards evening, the streets and Piazza begin to fill again ;
and those who had seen the child in the morning, are
astonished to find her still there. She is lifted up: the
crowd gathers round, and it is found that she is insensible—
some say, dead.

Her little bonnet had fallen off, and, in one hand, she clasped
tightly the flowers she had picked in the morning. They
carried her gently to the hospital, and laid her on a clean,
white bed, and loving hands bathed her face, and placed wet
cloths on her burning head.

But I wiil not distress my Darlings’ tender little hearts too
much. She was very ill for many weeks; but she did eventu-
ally recover: it was a sunstroke she was suffering from,
caused by lying out all day unsheltered from the burning
yays of the Sun.

That kind Sun, you see, that was shining so brilliantly,
and doing so much good to the grapes and olives, had been
too strong for the little child.

Well, she lay, as I told you before, for many weeks in the
hospital, not knowing where she was, or what had happened to
her. Sometimes she would talk about home, and father and
mother, and whether it was not time to milk the cows; and at



78 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

other times she would fancy she was by a cool, running stream,
with Annette, or Lisetta, or some other little friend, looking
for flowers, or bright pebbles; but, from the evening she was
brought into the hospital to the happy day when she was
pronounced out of danger, she never could be persuaded to
part with the wild flowers she had picked that morning. They
were firmly clasped in her little hand; and even when she got



is

i a









better, she would lay the poor withered stalks by her bedside,
that she might look at them. -



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 79

There was one kind woman in the hospital who grew to
be very fond of the child: she nursed her, and fondled
her, and talked to her, and tried to induce her to say who
she was; but, strange to say, she could not remember a single
thing that had happened to her before she came there. She
could not even say her name: they told her of a great many,
and asked her if it was one of them; but she only shook
her head, and said, “Non so;” which means, “I do not
know.” So, after some consideration, they agreed to call
her Marie; and by that name she was afterwards known to
every one.

Little Marie’s nurse was one of those kind-hearted women
who live but for one purpose in life—that of doing good, and
tending the sick. She was a Sister of Mercy; and, at first,
Marie used to stare with affright at her strange dress and
hood; but she grew so fond of her, that, when the Sister
went home in the evening, Marie would cry as bitterly as if
she were lost again.

So the time went on, and Marie had been many weary
mouths in the hospital: she was now quite recovered; and
her dark and flowing curls, that had all been cut short, were
growing long again.

Every one loved the bright little thing, dancing here and
there; and she grew to be called “Sunbeam” by many. But
Sister Genevieve was her great love; no kisses or presents
from others could shake her allegiance to her: the parting

F



80 ‘THE SISTER OF MERCY.

at’ night was one great misery, and the morning meeting
was one great joy.

At last, finding, that notwithstanding the efforts made by
the authorities to obtain some clue to the parents of the child,
no one appeared to claim her, Sister Genevieve applied for,
and had the pleasure of receiving, leave to adopt the little
Marie; and, to the child’s infinite delight, one evening took
her home with her.

Henceforward her life was a quiet and happy one: she
always accompanied the Sister in her daily visits to the
hospital; and, while she was attending to the poor sufferers,
Marie would sit quietly in a corner learning her tasks; or, if
these were ready, she would go and talk to some of the
patients whom she knew best, and who were always cheered
by a sight of the “Sunbeam.”

One of Marie’s great friends in the hospital was an old
soldier, a Belgian, called Pierre. You will think, perhaps, he
was an odd friend for a tiny girl like Marie to have; but some-
how there was a bond of sympathy between the two; and poor
old Pierre would look forward with delight to seeing the little
figure trip down the long rows of beds, and stop by the side
of his, with a smile or a laugh.

This disabled, but communicative, veteran had been at
the battle of Waterloo, and many others since that; and
bitterly did he rail at his ill-luck now to be lying in an
hospital, in a strange land, with a broken leg; not gained



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 81

gloriously in battle, but from tumbling down-stairs in his

old age.



When he was able to creep about slowly with a crutch, Marie
would go and sit with him in the window of the great corridor,
where the patients were allowed to walk up and down; and
then the old man would tell her long stories of this great
general, or that brave soldier; or talk about the heroic deeds
of his own regiment. But Marie always led the subject. back
to Waterloo, and the events of that day; she was never tired

F2



82 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

of hearing the story of Hougoumont, or the final charge of
Napoleon’s Guard. However, Pierre’s memory was not always
very good, and sometimes he would make most astonishing
variations in his story; and one day, when they were sitting
together on the window-seat, Pierre’s memory was worse
than ever.

Marie said to him, ‘‘Now I should like to hear something
about the farm-house at Hougoumont, and how the brave
English defended it.”

“ Ah,” he replied, “ that was a i story, and a fine hot fire
too. I was there” (it was quite curious how Pierre had managed
to be in all parts of the battle-field at once); “and did not we
pelt them, that’s all! Why, I saw seven men standing with
their heads just above the wall, and I killed ’em all at one shot,
like birds in a row.”

“Oh, grandfather, how could you be so cruel!”
Marie.

“My pretty one, it can’t be helped in war,” answered the

said

old man, with a self-satisfied smile, as if he really had done
such a thing, and felt quite proud of it.

“Why our King came riding by at the time; and when he
saw what I had done, he cried out, ‘ Bravo, mon brave!’ Only
just then, and while I was cheering lustily, a brute of a great
English fellow came behind, and deliberately ran his sword
right through my body, and the point came out here”—point-
ing to his chest.



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 83

“ But Pierre,” said Marie, “how was that; the English were
your friends ?”

“Oh, well, I can only say, if it was not an Englishman, it
was some other great hulking fellow; but, turning sharply
round, I soon laid him low: I cut his head clean off,
so. . . . 3” and Pierre made a great flourish with his
erutch round Marie’s head.

“Ah, it was a hot day indeed,” he continued: “it was hot
all round, and the Sun was burning overhead too; but the
hottest and most trying thing of all was when we charged up
the hill. I was standing close to the Emperor, and he looked
encouragingly at me, then waved his hat, and cried, ‘ Up,
Guards, and at ’em !”

Marie did not answer this. She could not quite reconcile
this last statement with what she had heard before; and to
tell you the truth, I think all the different armies of French,
English, Belgians, and Prussians were beginning to be as
much jumbled together in her mind as they were in poor
old Pierre’s. So she thought it would be better to change
the subject, and said— —

“And about the great monument, grandfather; did they
not raise one to the memory of the poor soldiers who were
killed ?”

“Yes,” said Pierre; “they built up a great mound of earth,
I can’t tell you how many miles high, and with steps up to
the top, all cut in stone, and a sort of pillar at the top. I



84 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

went up one day, thinking perhaps my name might be written
there on the pillar; but when I got half-way up, I remembered
as how I wasn’t dead, so it was no use looking. However, I
went on to the top, and after a hasty view of the surrounding
country, I had a rest and a smoke up there, and gave three
cheers for our King that is now.”

So the days and weeks went on; and Marie’s life was a very
happy and peaceful one. The summer came and went again
many times, and she was no longer a child, but growing up
to be a tall girl, with dark, bright eyes. Her smile was really
beautiful: though no longer called the “Sunbeam,” she
could still act and speak like one; and the poor sufferers at
the hospital would look forward to her visits now as much as
they did to Sister Genevieve’s.

As the years rolled on many changes took place. Her old
Waterloo friend, Pierre, was taken ill one morning, and was
soon at rest; some few others recovered, and bade adieu, to
come back there no more; while fresh patients took their
places. It was constant and fatiguing work; but Genevitve
and her fellow-workers never complained; they were always
bright and willing.

At last Marie came to be eighteen; and one night when they
returned home, after their long day’s work, she said to the
Sister—

“Mother, I have a boon to ask: and I shall be greatly
pleased if you will grant it before I ask.”



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 85

“No, no,” said Genevieve, laughing, “impossible; it cannot
be granted if it is not asked.”

“Yes; but it is a great secret,” persisted Marie; “one that
has been thought about for a long time, and has been slept
over a great many nights, and has not been settled the least
bit in a hurry.”

“ Oh, it is settled, is it ?” said Geneviéve; “then I need not
trouble about granting it.”

“Well no, not exactly; you see it can’t be settled till you
say ‘Yes.’ But oh, mother,” burst out the young girl, “you
will say ‘Yes,’ won’t you? I wish to be like you—a Sister
of Mercy.”

Sister Geneviéve did not know bow to answer this at first, so
she sat quite quiet, looking straight before her. Marie tried
to find out from her face what her answer would be; but she
could read nothing there. At last Genevieve got up; and
telling Marie that it was bed-time, and that she would think
the matter over, sent her to her own room.

After this, many were the conversations that the two had
together; and many times did Marie try hard to persuade her
dear mother, as she called her, to give her consent. But the
Sister had made up her mind, and nothing would induce her
to change it. No, it was not for her to doom this bright,
young girl to a life of toil and work; and besides, who could
say, with any certainty, that even now her parents might not
some day be found ?



86 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

Marie listened attentively to the words of her benevolent
benefactress, but felt greatly disappointed, and said she was
determined to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

“Oh, my Darling,” said Genevieve, “ that is just the word
that prevents me from saying ‘ Yes’to your plan. JI am not your
real mother, as you know, though I feel so, in love, towards
you. Suppose some day we had the great happiness to find
your real, true mother; what would she say to me, if I had
deprived her of her child ?”

So it was settled that Marie was not to be permitted to
become a Sister of Mercy; and you will see that the good
Sister Genevieve was quite right.

* * * * * , * *

It was two years after this, on a keen winter’s day, that a
peasant’s cart drove up to the. hospital; the wheels were
covered with snow, and the roads were â„¢ so slippery, that
it was with difficulty it had arrived there. There were two
women and an old man in the cart: it was he who was
hurt. That morning, on going out of his cottage, he had
slipped on the door-step, and hurt himself seriously.

As soon as. they had seen him comfortably settled in the
hospital, the two women went away to get lodgings in the
town; and each day they returned to see how he was going
on; so it happened, that though Genevi¢ve and Marie
were there every day, yet they did not happen to meet
them.



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 87

As the old man got better, only one of the women came;
and she used to sit much oftener, and for a longer time, by
his bedside.

One day Marie came with a basket of fruit for him—they
were grapes; and she sat down on the other side of the bed
to help him to eat them. I know not what it was, whether it
was seeing the grapes that brought back the remembrance
of her long-lost child, or that she did really recognise her;
but the woman suddenly started up, flew round the bed
to Marie, and, bursting into tears, threw her arms round
her neck.

Whose arms do you think they were? Ah, I see you
have already guessed; they were her mother’s. Yes, poor
Marie had at last found both father and mother. Sister
Genevieve was asked to tell the tale, over and over again,
of how she was seen lying on the Cathedral steps, and of how
ill she had been; and then the poor mother brought out of
her pocket a little old book, which she had never parted
from since, and in which she had written these words :—
“Anna Maria, August 2nd; six o’clock:” which was the
day and hour when she arrived home, and found her only
child gone.

I will now finish this long story by telling you, that, as
soon as the old man recovered, Marie (for we will still call her
so; and, after all, you see it was her second name) went home
with her parents.



88 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

It was a bitter grief to leave her dear Genevitve; but the
good Sister showed her that it was her duty now to be of
use to her parents in their old age, and to make up for the
many years that she had been lost to them. So they said
good-bye, promising often to come and visit the kind Gene-
vieve; and she, in her heart, thanked God that he had led
her to do what was right, and to refuse Marie’s petition to
allow her to become

A SISTER ©F MERCY.
































































“THE PIGEONS HAD BEEN CHRISTENED FOLLY, POLLY, AND DOLLY.”



TOTTIE.
CHAPTER I.

4k Ao \ aff OW I am going to tell you a story of
at six little girls: a large number in one





i a family, was it not? Some people say
C i that there are many more little girls
in the world than boys. We cannot stop
now to find out whether that is true or
not; but at all events, there were more

little girls than boys in this family; for you





see there were no boys at all.
Well, my little friends were very nice children.
The eldest was about nine, and looked upon herself as a
very great, a very old lady, and quite fit to take care of her
younger sisters.

Their parents were in India, and they had been sent home
to live with an Aunt, their father’s sister. This lady had a
nice house and garden in the country, and the six little girls



92 TOTTIE.

thought they should never be tired of asking about all the
new things they saw. |

First of all, I must tell you their names, or rather their
nicknames; for they were such funny ones, I am sure the
pretty Darlings never could have been christened by them;
and yet I never heard them called by any others. The eldest
was Lottie, and the five little ones were Tottie, Mottie, Cottie,
Dottie and Hottie.

Did you ever hear such curious, funny names before? And
they were funny little ladies too—full of pranks and tricks of
all sorts; and at first, their poor Aunt, who had never been
accustomed to children before, thought that they would worry
her life out. So she made up her mind to engage a governess
for them; and one day she arrived, looking very stern—at
least so Dottie said.

“No! cross,” said Mottie, making little signs to express this
with her finger in the air.

“ Hush, children!” exclaimed Lottie, ‘Miss Graves will hear
you: besides, you know it is rude.”

The others were silent; but Mottie made a face at Dottie, as
mouch as to say, “ Never mind, we will have some fun by-and-by.”

I must tell you, that when this conversation took place, the
children were all leaning out of a window over the porch. It
was a pretty little cottage, with ivy and creepers growing up the
walls; and the children’s bedroom looked out over the porch,
and commanded a view of the entrance gate: so at least an hour



TOTTIE. 93

before Miss Graves was to arrive, they stationed themselves at
this window to look. There were five little heads there for a
long time, watching; and as soon as the carriage arrived in
sight, the baby of two years old, Hottie, was hoisted up to the
window-sill to have her share of the fun. But I do not think
she cared much about it, as she soon screamed to be put down
again.

The next day, they all went and sat down underneath the
table that stood in the middle of their bedroom: this was their
favourite place; and they used to hang shawls and cloaks all
round it, so as to make it feel quite snug and warm, only
leaving one little hole for the light to come in. Then they
proceeded very gravely to settle by what name they should call
their new governess.

Mottie at once suggested “Gravy ;” and Cottie and Dottie
screamed with delight at the idea.

Then Tottie, with a very serious face, said “Saucy;” upon
which they all laughed again so loud, that I wonder somebody
did not come to see what was the matter.

But Lottie said, “No, it must not be anything about eating
or drinking.”

“Oh, I know,” burst in Mottie again, “it shall be Diggy, or
Spadey.”

*“Q dear, dear,” said Lottie, “when shall I teach you not
to be so extremely foolish? Now, hush! I have an idea; I
want to talk.”



94 TOTTIE.

But it was no good trying to talk: Tottie and Mottie had
got some joke between themselves; and they kept laughing
in such an absurd way, that anyone else looking on would
have thought they were going to burst; their faces were quite
scarlet.

At last, Lottie got a little cross, and told them that if they
would be so silly, and not say what they were laughing about,
she should go away, and break up the consultation.

This was too dreadful a prospect to think about for one mo-
ment; so they both began speaking at once: and when order
was a little restored, Mottie began to tell the joke, laughing all
the time. It was, that Tottie and she had made up their minds
to call her “ Wiggy:” for the mischievous Tottie having sus-
pected she wore false hair, had slipped into the new governess’s
room early that morning, with the maid, who was taking in the
hot water, and had seen, with her own two eyes, Miss Graves
sitting up in bed with a strange-looking nightcap on, and
her fashionable wig calmly resting on the stand, on the top
of the chest of drawers.

When Lottie heard this, she laughed just as much as the
others had done; but when that was over, she thought within
herself that they could not be so rude or unkind as to
call her “ Wiggy :” so she said— ,

“Now, children, we must really be serious. You know Aunty
said we were to try and look on Miss Graves as our friend. Of
course she cannot be our very best friend if she gives us long



TOTTIE, 95

lessons to learn, and exercises to write out; but still she may.
be a sort of a friend; so I think, the least we can do is, to
call her “ Friendy.” It is a nice name, and I am sure Aunty
would like it.

How much longer the five little tongues would have gone on
talking together, I don’t know. Little Hottie could not speak
plain yet, and was too young to be asked her opinion: so she
sat and listened only. Just then the tea-bell rang: so they
settled very hastily, that the new governess was to be called

”

“ Friendy ;” and off they ran to get ready for tea.

CHAPTER ITI.

Two or three days after this, when the children were begin-
ning to know Miss Graves a little better, Lottie determined to
summon all her courage for the purpose of telling her the new
name they had given her, and by which they meant to call
her, if she had no objection.

So with very red cheeks she went quietly up to Miss Graves’
chair, put her arms round her neck, and asked leave for them
to call her “Friendy.” Miss Graves was very much touched:
she had already taken a great fancy to Lottie, who was a



96 ; TOTTIE,

sweet, gentle child; and she kissed her most tenderly, and
told her how pleased she was to think that the little girls
wished to look upon her as a friend; and that they might
call her by any name they liked.

Then Lottie ran off delighted, to tell her sisters; and Miss
Graves sat quietly in her chair, thinking to herself what a sweet
nature it was that could have suggested such a name. With
Tottie and Mottie she felt sure she should have a little trouble ;
their spirits were so wild: and as for Tottie, she was con-
tinually in some mischief or other, either by herself, or leading
Mottie into it. The two little girls were also continually
quarrelling. You must not imagine that they did not fight
and quarrel like other children; but they always made up
their little differences before they went to bed. They had
the deepest affection for each other; and neither Tottie or
Mottie could close their eyes before they had said in French
to each other—

“ Bon soir, nous sommes bonnes amies.”

It was almost the only little bit of French they knew; but
they had been taught it by their dear mother before they left
India; and they never forgot it. When these few words had
been said, they felt at peace with all the world, and were asleep
in a few minutes.

But now I must get on with my story.

The summer days flew quickly by, and the trees were begin-
ning to be tinged with yellow and brown. The children had



TOTTIE. 97

passed a very happy summer: “ Friendy” had been very kind
to them; and, together with their Aunt, had planned all sorts
of treats for them. They had enjoyed picnics in the wood,
and tea in the garden, and rides on the old pony, and games
in the hay-field. Besides this, they had six little gardens; one
each, all to themselves. Lottie, Tottie, and Mottie kept theirs
very nice: Lottie’s was a large square bed, and the other two
were round—one on each side of her’s; they were planted with
red and pink geraniums, heliotrope, and, what I like better
than anything else, those large double garden daisies, pink
and white, with yellow eyes,

Of course, the three younger children were too little to know
how to take care of their gardens, but still it was a great
amusement for them to have their own garden; and they
wonld do, what I think a great many other little folk have
done in their day: they would plant some flowers in the morn-
ing,
evening.

and thought it great fun to dig them up again in the

One day, Cottie and Dottie were observed to be very busy in
their gardens; first digging a hole in one place, and then in
another, and another: in short, they never seemed tired of
digging holes and filling them up again. When Tottie found
this out with her quick little eyes, she ran to Dottie’s garden to
see what it was all about; and what do you think the little
girls were doing?

They had found a poor wee robin redbreast, that had fallen

G



98 TOTTIE.

out of its mother’s nest, and been killed by the cold nights ;
and they were digging holes to bury it in; but it was so
amusing, that as soon as Dottie had buried it in one hole,
Cottie dug it up again, and put it into another.

Directly Tottie found that her two sisters were thus occupied,
she thought she would have a share in.the fun; so she called
Mottie, and away they both ran, and soon commenced digging
little holes all along the garden beds, and under each rose-
tree; leaving both Dottie and Cottie crying bitterly at the
loss of their dear wee robin.

When Miss Graves heard the children crying, she called them
to come and tell her what was the matter; and as soon as she
made out a tolerably distinct account, she went to look for
Tottie and Mottie. She was some time before she could find
them; for having deposited the robin, for the space of half a
minute, under each rose-tree, they were off into the shrubbery,
to begin the same process under each bush.

No one could help laughing to see them, so eager were they
about it; but “ Friendy” thought they had played at this game
long enough; and she tried to explain to them, that though the
poor robin could not feel what they were doing, still, it did not
seem kind to be knocking its poor little body about in that
way; and then she showed them how all its feathers had got
crumpled and dirty.

Tottie said they were very sorry—they did not mean to hurt
the robin: and she promised “Friendy” not to touch the bird



Full Text















































PO eee ee tT eee





i



ergeiaprarsia
thrdech'e wprceet C0 led
j Cp Foe aa Pe |
CML <- AES tL: peer,

ie Ai life BHR Kee an? ieee,

(Déot 1870. ed. 4

| ek Ae 3 lhumes



Ul eteben SG 27.
STORIES FOR DARLINGS,

BY THE SUN.







Sy,

LON OON
JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE S'*
1870
STORIES

DARLINGS

jp He PUN.

LONDON: ;
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1870, ;
Dedicated

TO
FIVE ESPECIAL DARLINGS;

AND AFTER THEM,

TO

ALI ENGLISH DARLINGS

WHO LOVE STORIES AND

PICTURE-BOOKS.
Contents.

PAGE

THe Mipnicur ADVENTURE . : ‘ : ‘ : . 17
Basy Zacu . . . . ; . . . : . 81
Tue Tree Sisters. . . : . : : . 48
Tue Kine or tHE Hartz Mounrains . : . . . 55
Tue Sisrer or Mercy; or, Lirrne Marizr . : . . 78
“Torrie ’?—Cuarrers I., IL, IIT., TV. . . . . | 91
Tue Farries’ Bart—Cuarrers I., II. . . . . . 118
Tue AuruMN PRIMROSE . , . : . . . 181
Tue Guarpian ANGEL . . . : . . . . M1

Parting Worps . . . . . - 7 : - 146






















































ES, we were a very merry party round the
tea-table—a whole lot of Darlings, some

very small, some fast growing bigger, but

all very busy eating bread and butter

and treacle,


12 STORIES FOR DARLINGS.

Some were laughing and playing, and not a few little eyes
were getting rather red and sleepy, when the Sun put his
large smiling face in at the window. It was a bay window,
with nice seats in it, where you could sit and have a beautiful
and commanding view of the sea, and watch the noble ships
and little boats sailing about, and hear the tiny waves singing
pretty songs.

The Sun was just going down, and painting them all a deep
red colour, when he bethought himself that it was getting time
for the Darlings to be in bed. So he looked in close at the
window again, and said—

“Time for bed, bed, bed.”

And his voice sounded so sweet and low, that one tiny head
dropped on the table, and was fast asleep in a minute. But
the others only laughed, and cried out—

“Oho! Mr. Sun, you are there, are you? Time for stories,
stories, stories.”

“ Time for stories,” echoed all the little voices.

“No, no,” said the Sun; “TI cannot wait for stories to-night.
T have got a long journey before me, and a great many people

are waiting at the other side of the world, where I am going ;
STORIES FOR DARLINGS. 13

old faces, young faces, and baby faces—all longing to be up
and see the Sun.”

“Never mind that,” said a boy Darling—rather a rough and
boisterous one; but when he looked again at the Sun, and saw
that his face was very grave, I think he began to feel sorry
to have been in such a hurry.

All this time the Sun was getting redder and redder every
minute; but he still kept looking in on the children, and
sending loving glances all round. At last, when they were all
sitting hushed and quiet, and looking at his now fast-fading
light, he kissed them all tenderly—one on his bright golden
hair, another on his cheek, a third on her soft little hands; and
so on, all in turn: but I think if his glance rested longer on
one face than another, it was on the rough, boisterous, warm-
hearted boy, the real Darling of his heart.

Then he spoke once more; and this time his voice sounded
very low, for he feared to wake the little sleeping one.

“ Good-night, good-night, my Darlings; I leave you, but only
for a little time; and while I am away, the moon and the
twinkling stars will watch over and take care of you; and to-

morrow, when I come again from the strange, golden land,
14 STORIES FOR DARLINGS.

whither I go to-night, I will bring you stories, beautiful stories,

for all—

And these are the stories that the Sun brought the next

day for the Darlings.




























































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTINE POINTING OUT TO HER FATHER THE FIRST
GLIMPSE OF LAND.
THE WIONIGHT ADVENTURE,




lying just underneath your feet, there lived
\. an old man and his daughter. He was a
Frenchman, and had left France at the
time of the great gold discovery, that I dare
say you have read of, though you were none
of you alive at the time it happened.
Well, in those days, Australia was not the same



r¢ flourishing land that it is now. People had only just
? begun to settle there a few years before; and what is
now the large town of Melbourne, was then only a little village.
I think the old Frenchman had much better have stayed in his
own land, and by his own fireside, though. it was a poor one:
but the temptation to better his fortunes was too great ;

and when he saw so many of his friends and neighbours ail
18 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE,

going in search of these unknown riches, he determined to go
too. Of course, his only child and daughter could not be left
behind alone, so it was finally settled that they should both
go; for the poor old man said, they could not be worse off
there than they were at home, and they might be better. In
fact, he was like the rest of the world, old or young, who.
all think that what they cannot see, and cannot have, is far
nicer than what they possess. We shall see whether these poor
French folk had their anticipations realised or not.

On their way to this golden land, the ship touched at several
places to get provisions and water, and the poor emigrants
suffered terribly in many ways. There were several hundred
people on board, men and women, all crowded together; and
they often had not enough to eat or drink. At last, one day
their weary eyes were gladdened by the sight of distant land,
after a voyage of many months; and before the week was out,
they all found themselves huddled together on the quay of a
strange town, and feeling as miserable and forlorn as it was
possible to be.

I dare say you have seen pictures of Melbourne as it is now,
with its fine wide streets and good houses; but then it had
quite a different appearance. Thirty years ‘ago, when poor
old Jacques Michaud and his daughter landed, there were
nothing but wooden houses; and the people who lived there
were mostly poor themselves, and could give little or no help to
any new-comers.
THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE, 19

The girl’s name was Christine, and I was very fond of her:
she was such a good, unselfish girl; and I think she was very
fond of me too; for on board the ship, she would always rise
before I did, and look out at her little cabin window to welcome
me, when I took my first peep over the horizon. Christine was
about fifteen years old, and able to do a great deal towards
helping her father. She could cook and wash, and mend
clothes, and keep things clean. They could not find any
lodging in Melbourne that they could afford to pay for; so
at last they settled themselves in a small, lonely cottage,
about three miles from the town. No one lived within a mile
of the house; and poor Christine did not like it at all, it was
so far away from every one. I heard it was for this reason that
others, who were better off, would not live there: but it was
a great object to old Jacques and Christine to pay very little
rent for their house, and they therefore made up their minds to
live there, and not to think about its being solitary.

Twice a week the old man would trudge into the town, to
sell the baskets that he and Christine made together; and as it
was too far for him to come back again the same night, after
walking about all day, he generally slept in some outhouse, or
wherever he could get a handful of straw to lie down on, and
a roof to cover him. So it happened that Christine was left
alone for many hours; and at night, she used to get quite
terrified by the solitude and loneliness of the spot: indeed,
those nights that her father stayed away, she never went to bed
20 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

at all. Sometimes, if she dropped into an uneasy slumber
over the kitchen fire, she would be awoke suddenly by loud
voices, and a clattering of hoofs, which would again as
suddenly die away in the distance. These were generally
some parties of men, either going to or coming from the
gold-diggings.

At these times Christine would start and shiver, fearing
that some one was going to attack the house. And now I
must tell you what happened one night.

It appears that Christine, though she led this solitary life,
did occasionally see a few people; and, in particular, one old
couple, who lived about a mile off, on a small farm, where she
was able, every now and then, to procure a little milk, and
sometimes the luxury of a few eggs.

Well, to this old woman she had told her tale, and how she
lived in terror of some one coming to the lone house at night,
and how terrified she was at being alone. In an evil moment
the woman repeated this to some one else, without a thought
of doing harm to Christine, but merely as a piece of gossip: at
the same time, she warned her neighbour not to repeat it; who
paid no heed to this injunction, but went and told somebody
else. The story of Christine’s loneliness and terror became
known, and even reached Melbourne. JI need hardly tell you,
in a place like that, there were many who thought it would be
capital fun to amuse themselves at the poor girl’s expense; and’
some young men determined to watch their opportunity, when
THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 21

Jacques had left the house, and surprise and frighten his
daughter. :

They did not mean to hurt her, I dare say; but I don’t think
they thought much about it: they were wild, selfish boys, bent
on amusing themselves in any way they could, whether good
or bad. So, one evening, when they had seen old Jacques
selling his baskets in Melbourne, they started off with some
sticks and a lantern, and arrived at the lonely house.

_ It happened that the night was a stormy one; the wind
whistled round the corners, with occasional showers of heavy
rain; and Christine sat in the chimney corner, trembling at
every strange noise she heard. Once she fancied there were
voices speaking outside the window; then the door creaked,
and she thought to herself some one was trying to lift the
latch; then she tried to take some comfort by remembering
how many times she had been deceived in the same way before ;
and finally she went round to see that every door and window
was carefully barred and bolted. “Now,” she said to herself,
“Tam safe this stormy night, at all events.” So she sat down
again in her corner. But stay—surely she did hear something,
a slight grating noise; and then a flicker passed suddenly across
the room. Christine jumped up-—this time there could be no
doubt somebody was trying to get into the house.

But where could the light have come from? Ah! from a
quarter where she least expected it. I don’t think any of
you will guess. It came from the chimney.
22 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

I must tell you that it was one of those wide, old-fashioned
chimneys that are only to be found in cottages built many
years ago. This one was so large, that two men could easily go
up or down it at the same time. Well, these young lads had
got a rope, had tied it round their waists, and were letting
themselves down the chimney.

You may imagine the poor girl’s horror when she heard
them slowly descending, and, as she thought, for the purpose
of robbing, and then murdering her. Her first impulse
naturally was to scream; but she luckily remembered that
it would be useless, as there was no one who could either
hear her, or come to her assistance. Her next thought was
to hide, so that the robbers might imagine she was not there.

This was the work of a moment: she knew of a hiding-place
in the roof, and she had just gained this at the peril of her
life, owing to the difficulty of finding her way in the dark up
a narrow ladder, and over the beams and rafters of wood, when
she heard the men yelling with rage, and she knew by that,
that they had reached the kitchen, and not found her. Soon she
trembled again with dismay when she heard them begin their
search through the house, swearing strange oaths, and ran-
sacking every corner and cupboard, in the hopes of finding
her.

Poor Christine! she is getting on in years now, and has had
many troubles, and many sorrows; but she has often told me
that nothing could ever surpass the horrors of that night. It
THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 23

does not seem so terrible to you, as you know that they did
not mean to hurt her seriously; but poor Christine, shivering
and shaking in her dark corner in the roof, thought that her
last hour was come. I am sure my Darlings’ kind little hearts
will pity her, when they think of her sitting there, with the
cold wind howling round the house, and the rain beating in
between the rafters.

At last, when things seemed to be a little quieter, and she
was beginning to think that now she was safe, she heard one
of the men ascending the steep wooden ladder that led up to
the roof. Now, indeed, she was lost. She could not stir; her
lips only moved as she inwardly implored the protection of
‘all the Saints. They have saved her, she thinks; all is well
again. The man came to the top of the ladder, held up his
lantern, cast one glance around, and hurried down again, glad
to escape, from the wind and cold, to the comfortable kitchen
below, where his companions had lighted a small fire, and
were smoking their pipes, in the firm belief that the house had
been left untenanted for the night.

In this way several weary hours passed; the men below
smoking and playing at cards, till, just as the dawn was break-
ing, a low tap was heard at the door, and some one called gently,
“Christine.” The three young men jumped up in a great
fright, forgetting all about old Jacques, and proceeded to make
their escape as quickly as possible. Two, by means of the
rope, quickly hauled themselves up the chimney again, while the

Cc
24 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

third and youngest jumped up the steep ladder, thinking he was
sure to find some means of escape by the roof; but, missing his







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he reached the top, he





















































































































fell heavily to the ground ih
again, cutting his head ;





against the sharp corner
of the kitchen fire-place.
Christine, in her dark | /
corner, had heard the dis-
turbance and escape of the





Wy
men, but could not under- ° 4 ‘y ‘ WSO


THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 25

stand the reason of their hurried departure, as she could
not hear the tapping at the door; and besides, she never ex-
pected her father home at that hour. She waited a little while,
and when it was getting light, she ventured slowly, and with
much fear, to creep gently down the ladder; but what was
her horror and astonishment when, on reaching the bottom,
she saw one of the supposed robbers stretched on the ground,
and bleeding from a deep wound at the side of his head.

Christine’s first impulse was to fly back again to her hiding-
place; but. pity induced her to kneel down by his side, and
ascertain if he was really hurt. She found that he was only
stunned; and that the wound in his head appeared more serious
' than it really was. Besides, on closer examination, he did not
look so formidable: he was young like herself, about seventeen,
with soft brown hair, and regular features.

Christine thought to herself, as she sprinkled some water
over his head and face, that such as he could not be a robber
and murderer. But then, why had they come there? In a
few minutes the boy opened his eyes, and looked around, spell-
bound, to find a pretty girl bathing his face. Suddenly, as
he and Christine were gazing at each other, there came the
low tap at the door again, and the boy remembered the cruel
purpose that had brought him there, and that it was that
very knocking at the door that had so startled him and his
companions. In hurried accents he told his tale, and ended
by imploring Christine to hide him anywhere for the time, till

C2
26 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

he felt well enough to make his escape. He told her that he,
too, was French, and that she could not refuse to help her own
countryman.

For one moment the girl hesitated. She thought to herself
of all that had happened in the night; but one long, pleading
look from Frangois gained the day. You must remember that
Christine did not know who was tapping at the door. She
had never known her father come home so early before, and
thought it might be some one from the farm where her friends
lived. All this time the tapping at the door was getting
louder, and the summons more vehement.

Christine hesitated no longer; together, they gained the top
of the ladder, a few sacks were thrown down for him to lie on,
and Francois was installed in poor Christine’s place. When
there, he had many hours of weariness to pass, during which
he dared not stir, and which he occupied by thinking over the
unmanly part he had acted, and in making resolutions for the
future. I will only say, that when he was set at liberty the
next evening, he inwardly vowed that, on some future day, he
would repay Christine for all the suffering he had caused her.
As for her, the lonely house had become more than ever dis-
tasteful and solitary ; and she, at last, persuaded her old father
to return to Melbourne, and live there, on the plea that he was
getting too infirm to walk so far. :

* #* # * *® * *

Eight years have elapsed, and the Sun is once more smiling
THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 27

in the horizon, when Christine stands on the pier at Melbourne,
looking out at the ships, the harbour, and the busy, bustling
scene. Her father is dead; and she feels strangely alone amidst
all this crowd. Her thoughts wander back to the old days,
when she was poor, and had few friends. She is well-off now,
and has many friends; but they cannot shut out the remem-
brance of a fair, boyish face, and two pleading eyes—‘ Chris-
tine” —“ Francois’”—and the two eyes are there, gazing at her
with their old look of love.

fi







































































































































































































Legh Ls

PG SKM



OME
Td jit é |

“ Christine,” a voice said, “I have come to you to heal me
of a wound. You did so once before; but this time it is a far

!
28 THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.

deeper one. I have been to other countries, and seen many
_ things; but wherever I went, I carried my heart-wound with
me. Will you heal it?”

Need I tell you what Christine’s answer was? It was only a
little word—*“ Yes.” But happy tears stood in her blue eyes,
and the world seemed all of a sudden changed ; no longer a
hard-working, lonely world, but a bright and glorious land,
with happiness and truth at every turn.

Together they watched the setting Sun, spreading a golden
halo on all around. He was looking at them, though they
knew it not; blessing them, and praying that some day they
should walk hand in hand, in a far. brighter and more glorious
land—a heavenly one.








































“THERE WAS A SMALL CAVE, TOO, AMONG THE ROCKS, WITH
TINY POOLS OF WATER IN Iv.”
BABY ZACH,




\ NCE upon a time—that is a very old way of
} beginning a story, but it has a never-
ending, pleasant sound to little Darlings ;
and I can see one tiny lady settle herself
‘in her chair, with a thrill of delight, as
she hears the well-known words—“ Once upon
a time,” there was a family of children, four of
them, two boys and two girls. The eldest was
a boy, then came the two girls, and the
youngest was a dear, baby-boy of two years old.
They were all nearly the same age, as the eldest,
Louis, was only seven; so they were capital
companions for one another.

Their parents were good people, who took great care to bring
them up to be loving and kind to each other; and they did
dearly love each other, though they loved their parents best.
These children lived in a charming place, on the sea-shore, in
a beautiful land called Italy. The Sun is so fond of this land,
32 BABY ZACH,

that he is loth to leave it when evening comes. So glorious
are the sunsets there, that it seems as if he could not tear
himself away from the vineyards, and orange groves, and palm
trees. There were plenty of these here to tempt him to linger
yet a little while; and besides, the children loved, in the even-
ing, to wander down the garden slopes of their lovely home,
and watch his rays, and talk to him. Then he would fain
stop a few moments longer, and look at them: the Sun loves
all Darlings.

Sometimes they would see a little boat sailing away, with
its sail spread to catch the evening breeze, and it would
seem gradually to disappear in a flood of gold and crimson ;
then little Louis and Catherine would clap their hands, and
weave stories in their minds of lands to which the boat had
gone, and where everything was rose-colour and delicious;
large apples, big sweetmeats, and pleasure all the livelong day.
Then when they had said good-night to the dear Sun, and
bid him shine in at their windows the next morning, they
would pray God to bless father and mother; and all dropped
fast asleep.

Not all: the dear baby was sometimes very ill, and could
not sleep at night. They were all very loving and fond of
him; and when he was well, his mother would take him out
to play on the beach; and Louis would be so proud when
she allowed him to go just a little way off, and take care
of baby, and pick up shells for him; and baby, in his own
BABY ZACH. 33

little way, worshipped Louis, and would follow wherever
he went.

I forgot to tell you, that, dear as he was, he had a very ugly
name. I don’t remember why he was called Zachary; but we
all agreed that we should have chosen something prettier. To
make the best of it, we always called him Zach, or more often
Baby Zach. Well, little master Zach was as pleased to go on
the beach as the others, and they would all clamber about
the rocks, and each try to do more than the others—jumping
over this pool, and climbing up that difficult place; and if
Zach could not manage it, then Louis used to haul him up by
his arm, and the little fellow would scream with delight.

There was a small cave, too, among the rocks, with tiny pools
of water in it: when the sea was rough, then the pools became
much larger, and the great waves washed quite into the cave.
At those times their mother would never let the children go
there; they could only watch the waves from the garden
terrace. On fine, hot summer days, how they did love to sit in
the cool cave, making little rush-boats to swim in the pools,
with rushes they had picked the day before, and digging great
holes in the beach to find pebbles !

Not very far from their pretty garden was a wood, with tall
fir-trees and shady nooks; it was a spot where the children
loved to wander, and sit by the side of a running stream, that
flowed gently down to the sea, watching the birds and insects ;
and sometimes, if they were very quick, they would see a little
34 BABY ZACH.

fish swimming down the stream, on his way to have a look at
the world in the great salt ocean.

One day in autumn, the weather was no longer so hot and
sultry ; there was a delicious cool breeze coming up from the
sea, and Louis said—

“Oh, Katie, would it not be nice to go and spend the evening
in the wood? Let us go and ask mother.” ‘The others were
delighted at the idea; and Louis, followed by Catherine and
Lily, rushed into the house to get their mother’s leave.

Mother was just then reading to Baby Zach, and showing
him pictures. Well, directly Zach heard of the expedition,
he could not bear being left behind, but wanted to go too.
Mother said she would not hear of such a thing—no, she could
not trust her Darling to go so far, and alone with the children.
But Louis begged so hard, and Zach begged so hard, that she
did not know how to refuse them; it was so difficult to say
“No” to little Zach, when he looked at her with those
beseeching eyes.

“Oh, mother,” said Louis, “if you will only trust me, and
let him come, I will take such care of him! He shall never be
out of my sight: only this once.” ;

“But Louis, I have so often tried to trust you, and you know
how often you have failed. You do not mean to forget; but
you are thoughtless, my boy, and Zach is very precious.”

“Me will be very dood, me will; me won’t ply,” said Zach,
in his baby way.
BABY ZACH. 35

“ Mother, now you will trust me, just once more; it is such
a beautiful evening, and we will come home early, won’t we
Katie? We will come home in an hour, if you like; only
trust me once more.” :

At last, very reluctantly, the mother gave her consent, and
said they might take Zach with them to the wood, but they
were to be home in an hour. They started off with shouts
of joy, Louis walking carefully along, leading baby by the hand,
while Katie and Lily danced along in front. They soon got
to the wood, and found their favourite spot—a nice bit of soft
green turf, with a few rocks to lean against, close to the little
running brook. At first they picked flowers and rushes, and
ran about, and were as merry as larks; then they got tired, and
sat down, and began to talk.

“T,” said Louis, “shall be a great man when I growup. I
don’t want to stay here all my life; I mean to be a soldier,
and win great battles.”

There was a murmuring among the trees; and if the little
children had listened, they would have heard the Fir-tree say,
“ Ambitious, selfish,” and shake its tall head.

“Tt is a grand thing to be a soldier, and fight battles,”
continued Louis; and, in his excitement, he began striking an
imaginary foe with his stick. “Think of riding home after
the victory, and every one praising you, and the bells ringing,
and people bowing down to you as a conqueror!”

“Proud,” murmured the Elm-tree, and its leaves trembled.
36 BABY ZACH.

“Ah, but Louis,” said Katie, “think of the poor wounded
men, and suppose you got a wound; I could not bear that :”
and the tears stood in her soft eyes at the very idea.

Ahh byt
1s)



“T suppose I should bear it like other people, Katie; but
let us suppose that I shall not get a wound. That will be
much pleasanter.”

‘Selfish and cruel,” spoke the Fir-tree, and there was quite
a rustling of indignation among the others; but the kind-
hearted, gentle Willow could not bear to hear her Darling con-
demned, and she whispered softly, “‘ Not so, only thoughtless.”
BABY ZACH. 37

Then the conscientious Fir-tree lifted up its lofty head, and
said—

“He has no feeling heart for the woes of others; he will
trample down everything to satisfy his ambition.” And the
Willow wept bitter tears, for she loved the brave boy, with all
his faults.

“ Ha, ha, Katie, what will you say when you see me march
into the town, victorious, at the head of my army, and the
King come out to meet me, and all”——Ah! what was that?
There was a splash and a scream—Baby Zach had fallen into
the brook.

I cannot describe to you what Louis felt, poor boy, and
after all his boasting to his mother about taking care of
Zach. How could she ever trust him again ?

Ah, me! JI am afraid the trees were right; and when they
saw what had happened, they whispered it to the breeze, and
the breeze carried it to the waves, and the waves sang a song,
and the words of the song were—

“No trust, no trust.”’

Louis heard them all this time; and he thought to himself,
“Tf the trees and the waves say this, what will mother say
when I tell her?”

They took little Zach home; he did not seem much hurt—
only frightened, and very wet. Mother looked at Louis when
they came in; she did not speak to him; her look was sufficient.
38 BABY ZACH.

Poor Louis turned away heart-broken. This, then, was the end
of all his dreams, that he should, perhaps, have lost his own
Darling brother, his pet. He lay down, and wished that he
could die too. Later on, when his mother came out of Zach’s
room, she found him lying at the door, waiting for tidings.
«Say, mother, he won’t die! Oh! say it; I could not bear it,”
he cried.

“No, Darling, he will not die, but he has had a great shock,
and we must all be very quiet. You must help me to nurse
him, by taking care of your sisters while I am busy. I have
heard all about it from Zach, and he says it was his own
fault.”

“Oh, Iam sure it was all mine,” said Louis; “I was think-
ing of something else.”

But his mother thought to herself it was her fault, for
putting so much care and responsibility on a little boy; for,
after all, he was only a little boy, and she felt very tender
towards him when she saw his grief.

The end of it all was, that next spring the dear baby died.
Louis would not be consoled at first; and he would often
wander into the wood, to the place where they had sat and
played that lovely autumn evening, and think how happy
they had been; and in his sorrow he would accuse himself
of Zach’s death. But his mother took great pains to tell
him that the fall had nothing to do with it; and that
clever men had said, that Baby Zach could never have
BABY ZACH. 39

grown up to be a man, and that he was far happier than
they were.





















After a little while, Louis tried hard to believe it; and he
would go to Zach’s grave, with Katie and Lily, and watch
the Crocuses and Snow-drops coming up that their mother had
planted.

And the Snow-drops would bow their heads together, and
say, “Kind and unselfish;” and the Golden Crocus would
answer, “ Zach is looking at you, and loving you;” and the
Lilac Crocus would echo, “ Thoughtful for others.” Then Louis
40 BABY ZACH.

would feel proud when he heard the flowers whispering together,
and giving him courage; and he would answer—
“And so, please God, I will try to be thoughtful for others,
for Zach’s sake.”
When the trees heard him say this, they whispered it to the
breeze, and the breeze carried it to the waves, and the waves
murmured a new song, and the words of the new song were—

‘“‘ Hope for the future—hope for the future.”










































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“ PAITH WOULD LIFT UP HER CROSS, AND SPEAK TO THEM
OF THE KING’S SON.”
THE THREE SISTERS.

WONDER if any of my Darlings have
heard of the Three Sisters, and their
journey to the promised land. They lived
on a great round ball, which is called the
earth, and they were not very happy
-? there: sometimes they were, but not very
often. Whenever these happy days did
come, they marked them down on white
tablets, that each sister carried by her side.

The names of these Three Sisters were Faith, Hope, and
Charity; and they were so fond of each other, that one could
not live without the other. At times, Charity would fall sick ;
this was after one of her wanderings about the earth to help.
the sick and needy, when she would sometimes come home with
hardly a rag to cover her, and in sore need of food and comfort.
But Hope and Faith would be waiting at the door to welcome
her home again; and then, when she was getting better, they
would each start off on a journey of their own.

They never all three left home at the same time, for fear some
D



44 THE THREE SISTERS.

one should want them. For they were so much loved, that
people from all parts of the earth would come to them for help
and sympathy. Old and young, middle-aged and babies, they
all came, numbers and numbers of them, crowding round the
door of the sisters’ house; and little children would climb in
at the windows, and cry for Charity. Every one had their
favourite sister. Faith was most sought after by the old—
those who had been toiling a long time in the heat of the
Sun, and were very weary: the promised land seemed to them
so far distant, and the King of Kings still delayed his coming.
Then, in their weariness, they came to Faith; and she, with
her fine noble countenance lifted up, would show them her
cross, and speak to them of the King’s Son, and of the reward
promised to all those who had faith in him; and how every
day that was well spent, brought them nearer and nearer to
the long-looked-for end.

Then would they wipe away their tears, and go home again,
with their burdens lightened.

The young would come to Hope. Those, who were at the
beginning of their journey through life, would tell her bright
stories of what they were going to do, and of the victories they
should win; and Hope would smile, and cheer them on their
way; though with her far-seeing eyes she would look forward,
and could see that the “race is not always for the swift, nor the
battle for the strong.”

Then, also, would come to Hope those who were sore disap-
THE THREE SISTERS. 45

pointed, and who were suffering from sharp thorns; and she
would whisper words of comfort in their ear, and tell them that
the pangs of sorrow are short and sharp, and would speak of
better days to come, when the Sun would again shine brightly,
and their tears would be tears of joy.

But it was to Charity that the little children would mostly
come: they would crowd round her, hanging on to her white
skirts, her hands, her knees—anything they could reach. Some
would bring flowers and presents for her, and happy loving
smiles that did her heart good; while others would often show
little tear-stained faces, and heavy aches and pains. To these,
she did what she best could to comfort and relieve them; and
even if their pain felt no better, still their hearts felt lighter,
for had not Charity kissed them ? ..

Shall I tell you what made the children all cling to her so
dearly? It was, because there was an unseen angel hovering
about her: that angel’s name was “ Love,” the most beautiful
angel that the Almighty ever sent into human hearts to lessen
the evils of sin.

The Three Sisters, as I told. you before, lived in one home;
and though they could not be really happy on the earth, on
account of all the suffering they saw, still they knew that their
presence lightened the woes of men, and they were therefore
content to remain as long ‘as their King saw fit. Charity
generally went alone, and in the dark, on her errands of mercy ;
but Faith and Hope worked together. When a father’ was

D2
46 THE THREE SISTERS.

about to lose his son, who lay sick, or a wife the husband of
her. youth, then Hope, who had entered unbidden the sick
chamber, would remain there till the loved eyelids were closed.
Her work accomplished, she would draw her mantle across her
face, and steal away quietly; then, meeting Faith at the door,
would bid her go in. At first, Faith would meet with many a
repulse; she was not so kindly welcomed as her sisters; but when
once she had gained admittance, she was loved even more than
they; and those, who clung to her, found they had anchored
on a rock,

One day, early in the morning, the summons came to the
Three Sisters, to leave their earthly home, and go to the
promised land. They were very glad of this, though they knew
they had a toilsome journey before them, ere they could reach
the golden city. They rose up directly, and began to prepare
themselves. Faith took nothing in her hand but her cross, and
was ready in a few minutes. Hope was the next; she put ona
bright robe of blue, wishing to appear radiant in the eyes
of the King; and with sandals on her feet, and a white
banner on her shoulder, she felt certain that she would be the
first. to reach the gates. Charity was the last to be ready: she
was quite as eager for the journey as her sisters, but her kind
heart prompted her to arrange so much for the good of the earthly
friends they left behind, and to take so much for those they
might meet on the way, that Faith and Hope had many times
to call her before she was ready to start.
THE THREE SISTERS, 47

However, at last they set out. The first day’s journey lay
in smooth paths, and at night Faith lighted a torch to guide
their steps.) The next day’s journey was not quite so easy:
Hope began to flag, and her blue robe to look soiled; and
Charity often lagged behind to say a word to those they met on
the way; but Faith held on without wavering, her eyes straining
forward for the first glimpse of the heavenly gates.

Soon they came to a large city; and directly the people
there caught sight of the Three Sisters, numbers came out to
meet them: a few clung to Faith, and entreated to be allowed
to follow her, as they also were on their way to the great goal,
- and were only resting on the way. Many were taken by Hope’s
ready smile and winning way, and enlisted under the white
floating banner; but it would be impossible for me to tell you
the numbers that crowded round Charity. They kissed her feet
and her hands, and showered blessings on her, while she poured
out her gifts and smiles on all, without choosing; for Charity is
blind to the faults of her neighbours. So, after resting a short
time, they all started afresh; but this time they were a goodly
company. There were the old, blind, and lame, and little chil-
dren, all following and clinging to Charity. Soon she was left far
behind her sisters; for the little ones could not walk fast, and
Charity would not leave them behind. So it fell out that Hope
and Faith walked on together, and the next day Charity was no-
where to be seen: nevertheless they continued their way with-
out her, knowing that some day they would meet again.
48 THE THREE SISTERS.

The journey was a perilous one in many places, rough and
thorny to the feet; and many of those who had followed Hope,
turned round again, and endeavoured to find a smoother path.
The beautiful white banner trailed in the dust, and the blue



robe was torn and stained; but Faith cheered her sister on, and
together they reached the bottom of the hill on which the
golden city stands.

When Hope lifted up her weary eyes, and saw the light shin-
ing, she girded up her strength again; the soiled banner was
lifted up once more; and then, followed by those few who still
clung to. her, she pressed forward up the hill. Onward they go,
THE THREE SISTERS, 49

the light getting brighter and brighter, and dazzling their
earthly eyes; but no obstacle can stop them now. ‘The end is
at hand—close by—they are even at the gate!

Faith is left far behind!

With an eager hand, Hope knocks at the golden gate—there
isno answer. She knocks again and again—

She hears the rustling of angels’ wings, and sees the glory
shining from their crowns; but the heavenly gate still remains
shut. She cannot tell the meaning of this; and, with uplifted
hand, she waits until Faith and her followers have toiled slowly
and steadily up the hill.

Faith wondered at seeing her sister still there; but, in her
loving-kindness, asked no questions, thinking they would all go
in together. She raises her cross on high to strike; but before
she can do so, the portals open wide, and they hear a burst of
heavenly music, such as they have never heard before. Faith
enters with her glowing face, and those who had followed her
enter too, sadly conscious of their sins, and how unfit they are to
live in such a city till they have been purified and blessed by
the King’s Son.

After Faith has passed in, the gates still remain open, waiting
for Charity. Hope would fain enter now; but an angel, with a
stern yet loving face, bars the way, and casting down her eyes,
whispered to her—

“None can enter here through Hope alone.”

And a voice coming from afar off, repeats in her wearied ears—
50 THE THREE SISTERS.

“ You trusted too much to your own merits.”

Poor Hope—it was indeed a sad fall for her; she had been so
confident, so sure of winning her crown: she had arrived first of
all at the great gate, and now she was denied admission, and
could only sit at the entrance, and look upon the glories she
might not share.

The banner, no longer white and glorious, but torn and
stained, lay on the ground, and Hope crouched down beside it,
obedient to the angel’s mandate; but, in her deep humility,
craving leave to gaze upon the lovely sight.

And she saw a beautiful city—the New Jerusalem, with a wall
round it; and in the wall there were twelve gates, and at the
twelve gates stood twelve angels, with their names written on
their foreheads. And the city was of pure gold, and was
garnished with ali manner of precious stones ; and in the midst
of it ran the River of Life, clear as crystal. Oh! how Hope
longed to drink of that-river !—how she would have knelt down,
and bathed her brow in its cool waters, and drunk her salvation !

But this was not for her: and as she thought. of all she had
lost, her head sank still lower, and she felt that she was, indeed,
unworthy to be there.

The angelsat the gate, when they saw this, lifted up their
voices, and sang for joy; for they knew, though Hope did not,
that she was nearer to Heaven now, in her heart-felt repentance,
than when she first arrived at the gate.

She saw Faith and her followers walk up to one of the twelve
THE THREE SISTERS. 51

gates, amidst the throngs of angels, and watched them, while
they were clothed in white robes, and signed with the King’s
seal, and sent on their way rejoicing.

As she was pondering on all these things, Hope suddenly
heard a greater burst of music than before, and saw a number
of angels spreading their white wings, and coming down
towards her. Her poor heart fluttered—it surely could not be
for her that they were coming? No, they were looking down
the hill. She turned, and saw her sister Charity approaching,
with a vast multitude following behind her. The angels were
coming down to welcome their best-beloved !

Charity was so surrounded by little ones, that at first she did
not perceive her sister, and was just going in, when she caught
a glimpse of her blue robe. Charity instantly fell upon her neck,
and kissed her, and would have taken her in with her; but the
angels covered their faces, and said, *‘ Not so, not so.”

Charity fell on her knees, and prayed, and wept bitterly; but
it was of no avail. So she rose up again, and passed in, saying
to Hope—

“T will go to the King’s Son, and cast myself at his feet, and
supplicate him, and’he will not refuse me.”

The gates closéd behind her, and left one sorrowing. But
soon her sorrow was turned into joy; for, with a burst of
trumpets and song, they were opened again, and Hope raised
her eyes, and “saw Charity coming down to meet her, with a
crown of gold upon her head, and a palm-leaf in her hand.
52 THE THREE SISTERS.

Hope rose up, and fell into her arms; and as they passed
together through the heavenly gates, the voice from afar off
sounded as before; only this time it said—

“For Charity’s sake, inasmuch as she did it unto the least of
these, she did it unto Me.”










































































































































































































































































































































































“THE KING AND THE WHITE BEAR WENT IN FIRST, AND THE
CHILDREN CROWDED IN AFTER THEM.”
THE QARTZ KING.

A, ha,” said the Sun one morning to
the Darlings, “how you would have
liked to have seen the dinner and
! the fun that I heard of one day.”
at It was a long time ago, in the Year
< 101: you see I was then 100 years old,
BS y -/ having been born in the Year 1; quite a
oe \ chicken of a Sun then, considering Iam now
' many thousands of years old: but though I
am an old fellow, I make use of my eyes and
f ears as much as ever. No fear of my getting
\y blind and deaf, as some little Darlings would
like their schoolmasters to be; so mind what you are all
about, and be good children, or some day the Sun will not get
up at all; he will stay in bed the whole twenty-four hours,
and then the Darlings will all have to do the same.
_ Well, there were Darlings in the Year 101, just as there are
now in 1870. Indeed, I am not at all sure that they were



56 THE HARTZ KING.

not greater ones; but perhaps it was that then I had not seen
so many of them. Now, one day, the King of the Hartz
Mountains determined to ask them all to dinner and tea, and.
astonish their little minds; and you shall hear all about it.

First of all, I must tell you that he lived under a great
mountain; and though it was very easy for him, who was a
Genii, and a King Genii, to wish himself in his arm-chair on
the left-hand side of his fire-place, it would have been of no
use for mortal Darlings to wish themselves there: they might
have wished and wished, till they wished themselves into
whipping-posts. So he went, first of all, to the Lion, as being
a King like himself, and asked his opinion. But the Lion was
a wise beast, and only shook his mane, and said his opinion
was precisely similar to the King’s.

This put the King in a terrible rage; and he swore so loud,
that it caused a great earthquake above ground, and two large
towns and ten small villages were swallowed up by it. After
this, he went on a little further, and paid a visit to the Bear,
and asked him what he thought about it. The Bear was a
great white fellow, and had just made his dinner off ten sheep,
ten oxen, and ten pigs; and, in consequence, felt very sleepy,
and not at all inclined to talk; so he only opened one eye
when the King came in, and said, “ Yes.”

This made the King more angry still, and he gave the White
Bear a great kick; upon which the Bear called out, in a still
louder voice, “ No,” which was just as bad.
THE HARTZ KING. 57

At last, he went round to all the animals, in turn, that he
could think of, and asked each his opinion about making a way

























for the Darlings to come and dine in his underground palace.
Some said very silly things, and some said such wise ones, that
58 THE HARTZ KING.

nobody could understand them; but at last, somebody else said
that an Ambassador from the Mice country would like-to speak
to the King.

** Show him in,” said the King, “and make haste about it, as
I want to sneeze.”

So the Ambassador was ushered in. He was a little, old, grey
Mouse, in a scarlet coat and hat; and he proceeded to tell them,
that the Mice in his land would undertake to bore a hole from
the inside of the mountain to the outside, provided all the Cats
in the neighbouring countries were destroyed every year for
the next hundred years. Of course, the King said “ Yes” im-
mediately, for he really could think of no better way of making
a road; but he thought to himself, “As to the Cats, Pl see
about that afterwards.”

So that matter settled, and the Mice having begun to work,
he set about fixing a day for the entertainment; and being
rather stupid, he fixed upon a Sunday: but then, you know,
living inside a mountain as he did, he could not be expected to
know much about the days of the week, or what went on outside.

Naturally, all the earth Darlings. said they could not come
on Sunday; and then, what did he do, but he fixed on a
Saturday! That was nearly as bad, on account of next Sunday
morning, and the children getting to bed late, and giving their
mothers extra trouble. So he really did not know what to do.
At last, one of the children who were invited, said to him—

“Why not Monday, Mr. King ?—because you see we are
THE HARTZ KING. 59

always good at the beginning of the week, and then we get
tired of it at the end. Now, if we come on Monday, we shall
all be good.”

So it was settled that Maa was to be the day; and thé
Hartz King sent out bis invitations on a fine big card, printed
red, blue, and yellow: it was written also in a fine big hand,
so that every one could read it, and said that dinner would be
ready at two o’clock, and that all Darlings who wished to come
were not to be later at the door of the mountain than half-
past one; also, they were not to be more than nine years old,
and no nurses were to be admitted. The King wished to have
the little ducks all to himself.

Monday came; and it was a very fine gathering indeed! As
I was very anxious to see them well, I determined that it
should be a brilliant day; so I came out quite early in the
morning, about seven o’clock, and watched till they arrived.
Not that I was idle all that time; for I was peeping in at
one house, then into another; drying some clothes in the
gardens; helping a few flowers to grow that were not very
strong; cheering the hearts of every one I could see: in short,
I was very busy. The birds and flowers all seemed pleased to
see me, and so, I think, were the Darlings; for I looked in at
several windows, and saw them preparing for the feast; some
in red sashes, some in blue, some in green, but all looking
clean and good; and when they saw me—dear! dear! how they
did clap their little hands for joy!
60 THE HARTZ KING.

Well, half-past one o’clock came, and there I was at the
entrance, putting on my best appearance, too, when they began
to arrive—crowds of them, boys and girls; I don’t know how
many. I only know that I thought they would never stop
coming; and that if all these toddles, big and small, were to
grow up to be men and women, poor Mr. Sun had a good
many years’ work before him, if he was to shine upon them
all. When the last child had passed through the door, it was
shut, and I saw no more; I looked down the passage for
a few moments, and saw that it was rather dark; and the rest
of the story I heard from the Darlings themselves the next day.
Ob! how they did chatter, chatter, chatter; and of course I
listened to every word. _

When once they had gone in, and the door was shut, I
knew that there was no use in my waiting, for they would
not come out again till long past my bed-time; and you know,
whatever anybody else does, Mr. Sun has to be very puncte
and cannot play any tricks with time.

Now for what I heard afterwards. When the Darlings first
went in, they were conducted down the passage by two. blacka-
moors, dressed in black, as far as a door which was guarded
by two great fierce-looking lions. The little ones were rather
- frightened at these, as you may imagine; but the bigger ones
told them not to cry, as they were only china. So they went
on through the door, where they were met by two red men,
dressed all in red, who conducted them through a bright red
THE HARTZ KING. 61

room to another door, where they saw lying on each side two
snakes! Just as they were passing these very carefully, for fear
of touching them, one little boy cried out that they were made





































| of gingerbread, so they all fell-to
at ouce, and began to eat little
bits; but the snake hallooed so
loud, that they ran off as hard as
they could into the next room,
which was blue; and there they
were met by two blue men; and



so, on and on they went, till they came at last to a large
white room,
LK
62 THE HARTZ KING.

Thé King of the Hartz Mountains was sitting in this room,
on a magnificent glass throne, dressed in white, and covered
with jewels; and on his right hand sat the great White Bear,
who had woke up from his sleep.

The King was delighted to see his earth Darlings, and shook
hands with them all, and then told them not to be afraid of
his friend, the White Bear. Mr. Bear, His Majesty said, was
very fond of good Monday children, and never wished to eat
them; but if any of them misbehaved, they mould run the

chance of getting a good hue.

The children had never seen so much splendour before—such
gold and jewels, and such bright lights; but what most as-
tonished them was, to see a number of animals all walking
about, and talking just as they did themselves. Up above, on
the earth, they were accustomed to see dogs and monkeys, and
sheep and goats; but they never talked; and here were a
number of them all walking about arm-in-arm, and making
such a jabber. In fact, the Darlings were so bewildered by
all they saw and heard, that they forgot all about dinner;
and it was only when they heard a great flourish of trumpets,
and bells ringing out, “Come to dinner!” “Come to dinner!”
that each thought to himself, “ Well, I shan’t be sorry; I
am very hungry.”

The King and the White Bear went in first, and then the
children all crowded in after them. The dinner was laid in a

large hall, with the ceiling reaching up to an enormous height—
THE HARTZ KING. 63

so far, that many of the little ones could not see the top; and
it was lighted with great suns of fire. The tables were laid on.
each side of this hall; with room for the servants to walk down
the middle, and wait upon the guests.

The walls of the hall were hung with skins of wild beasts,
- bordered with silver, and diamond eyes, that glittered: then the
carpet was gold; the table-cloth was gold; and all the plates,
dishes, and cups to drink out of, were all made of gold; and
whispers went down the table, and round the table, and up
the table, and all down and round, and up and about,
saying, “Is it not grand?” “Did you ever see anything
like this ?”

Well, in a short time, the children were all seated, and
beginning to eat: there was everything there that could be
eaten, in season and out of season; and I have no doubt, if
the naughty little boy in the story-book, who cried for the
oyster patties, had been present at this dinner, he would have
found them there, all hot.

There were plenty of footmen to wait and hand the things;
but the curious part about these footmen was, that they had
such funny faces. They were quite black; their eyes were two
diamonds; the nose was a great white pearl; and two rubies
for the lips. Some of the children did nothing but stare at
them; and I must say, that I think it sounds very extra-
ordinary; and I cannot think from what part of the world they
could have come. ,

E2
64: THE HARTZ KING.’

. Then there were some ladies that seemed made of bread
and butter, with something red inside; and it was whispered
about that they came from the Sandwich Islands. Was not
that funny ?

Besides all these, there was a Donkey, that did nothing all
the evening but heave great sighs, and wish something or
other: he was perpetually saying, “I do wish I could do that !”
But nobody seemed to take any notice of him; so he went on
wishing by himself, and I dare say he is wishing still. For my
part, I should like him to say, “I wish I was not such an ass ‘”
_ At last, after a very long time, the dinner was over. I
believe it was over because the children said they really could
not eat any more; not because there was no more to eat, for
the Hartz King’s kitchen is like a great volcano, always
boiling, and always throwing up things to eat. When dessert
was put on the table, the King began to play funny tricks upon
some of those who sat nearest to him. There. was one little
boy, about seven years old, who seemed rather greedy, so the
King asked him if he would not like to have some straw-
berries ?

“(Q yes,” said the boy, “very much indeed;” and his eyes
quite sparkled at the idea.

The King put some on his plate, and Dick (that was the
boy’s name) put. one into his mouth. But when he tried to
bite and swallow it, he found it was quite hard, like stone:
he thought there must be some mistake, and-he put another
THE HARTZ KING. 65

into his mouth. This: time, he ‘said ‘to himself, it must be all
right, as he had tried it on his plate first, and it was quite
soft, and looked so tempting; but, to his horror, when he
began to bite it, he found it was the same as the first, quite
hard. Poor Dick, he could not understand it at all. There
they were lying on his plate, and looking so red .and ripe and
delicious, and the moment he tried to eat them, they got quite
stony.

At last, Dick looked at the child sitting next to him—a dear
little girl. Yes, she was eating her’s all right. What could it
all mean? Then he looked up at the King, who caught his
eye, and said to him, “ Well, Dick, why don’t you eat your
strawberries—don’t you like them ?”

At this, poor Dick got very red and confused, for he knew
he did like them very much, and was dying to eat them;
besides, he felt he was looking rather foolish. So he stam-
mered out that he thought there must be something the
matter with them. “O dear, no,” said the King: “here, give
them to me.” Dick handed his plate, and the King gave one
of the strawberries to the little. girl Lucy, who said it was
quite delicious.

Seeing this, greedy Dick snatched his plate back very
quickly, and began to try again. But no, it was not possible:
there they were, just as hard as. before. Then, I am afraid
there was a something came into his eyes like great rain-drops;
but just as they were going to fail, two monkeys came and
66 THE HARTZ KING.

snatched them away, and said they would make capital balls
for them to roll about and play with.





The King saw all this; and as he did not wish to make
any one really unhappy at his feast, he told the strawberries on
Dick’s plate to: spell out the word “ Greedy.” When Dick saw
this, he thought to himself—

“Dear me, dear me! JI wonder how they could have found
that out? J am sure J never told them. Then the straw-
berries spelt out again these words—“ We are very good to eat.”
THE HARTZ KING. 67

“Yes, I know you are,” thought Dick; “and I should like to
eat you, but I can’t, so I won’t make any more fuss about it.”

And just then, one of the black footmen came by, and took
away his plate, so the poor boy was spared the pain of looking
at the delicious fruit that he could not eat.

Many more tricks like this did the Hartz King play his
little earth friends. One curly-headed girl could get nothing
to drink; but she was not greedy, and she laughed merrily, and
clapped her hands, at seeing the water-bottle run away, on two
little thin legs, every time she tried to touch it. While she
was still laughing, a great black Raven came, and perched itself
on the back of the Kiny’s chair, and began to make the most
dismal noises, and shake its head.

“ Well,” said the King, “and what do you want coming here
to croak ?—no one asked for your company.”

“Oh! oh! oh!” said the Raven; “it is very sad, sad, sad.”

“ What is sad?” asked the King, turning round tv look at. the
Raven; “and pray don’t shake your old head in that way:
why, it will come off, mau; and if it does, no one shall put it
on again.”

“Oh, ah! ah, oh!” croaked the bird; “the stomach-aches
that you will all have, and the headaches that you will all
have; and, ch dear me, the leg-aches you will all have!” and
the poor Raven nearly fell off the back of the chair, with the
excess of his emotion.

Then the King got angry, and sent him away to his hole in
68 THE HARTZ KING.

the roof; and told him, that if he came back out of it while the
feast lasted, his days should be shortened.

All this time the band was playing, and lights were gleam~-
ing from thousands of icicles of diamonds and emeralds, hang~
ing from the ceiling: it was a real fairy scene indeed. As soon
as dinner was over, they went into another hall; and here they
saw quantities of horses and animals perform numbers of tricks,
and dance on their hind legs. When they got tired of this,
they all said they should like to run and play in the garden.
Perhaps you may not believe it, but I can assure you it isa
fact, that the Hartz King had as beautiful a garden down
there, inside the mountain, as you ever saw above on the earth ;
for often and often, in the hot summer days, my rays have
penetrated the ground, as far as that famous garden, and I have
been delighted with all I saw. I think the children were
equally well pleased, and danced about merrily.

Before they went in, the King warned them that they were
not to touch the flowers, for fear something should hurt them.
As this is a true story, I am obliged to confess that some did
touch the flowers; but they got punished, as usual, for their
disobedience: or rather they punished themselves, as naughty
children generally do. One little boy (I rather believe it was
Dick again) got such a box on the ear from a great tall Sun-
flower, that he pulled rudely down to look at, that he wished
himself home again. But the good Darlings all ran about and
played, and were never so happy before; and they praised the
THE HARTZ KING. 69

flowers, and looked so long at the Roses, that the beautiful
creatures blushed with delight. And the Roses also looked at
the Darlings, and wished that they could stay there for ever,
and never grow any bigger. One little fairy thing, called
“* May,” went so close to a red, red Rose, that the Rose called
out to her, “ Kiss me quick.”



May had never heard a Rose speak before, and she ran away
in a great fright; but the voice of the Rose seemed to follow
her; and the next morning, when she awoke in her own little
bed, something whispered in her ear, “I am a red, red Rose;
kiss, kiss, kiss.” And I am sadly afraid from that, that the
70 THE HARTZ KING.

poor Rose down in the mountain garden was pining for love of
the earth Darling.

Well, it would be impossible for me to tell you all that
happened at this great entertainment. What 1 do know is,
that the fun grew fast and furious; that they played, danced,
sang, and, what is more, screamed to their hearts’ delight. I
heard one urchin say to two or three others, “ Let us go into
that corner and scream ;” just as if such a thing had never been
thought of before in their lives.

But all good things must come to an end; and after the
earth Darlings had all had tea, and drank it out of gold mugs,
and then had each kissed the King, and said gvod-bye, a great
trumpet was sounded, and all of a sudden the whole scene
vanished: and when the kind Sun opened their eyes the next
morning, they each found themselves in their little bed, and
each Darling was grasping a gold mug in his or her little hand ;
and on the mugs were written the Darling’s own name, and

these words :—






Pm ee
a

| &

vA



om from the goer






























































































































































































































































































































































ND BOTH FATHER AND MOTHER.”

‘POOR MARIE HAD AT LAST FOU
THE SISTER OF MERCY;

OR, LITTLE MARIE.







/__T was summer-time in Italy, and very hot.
ES" such a blazing hot summer had not been
known for many years; and the peasants
were all thanking their lucky stars, and
thinking of the splendid crops of grapes
and olives that they would have this year.
The vines were, indeed, groaning under their
heavy weight of superb bunches of fruit, and
the time for gathering them was close at hand;
indeed, in some parts, the vintage had already
begun.

Men, women, and the bigger children all
flocked out of the towns to help, and thus many houses were
left unguarded, and many little ones got into trouble; some
74 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

were more often left under the charge of an elder child; but
many were left to shift for themselves while their parents were
away.

It happened, one morning, that one of these little children
strayed further from the door than she intended, and lost her
way. She wandered about for many hours; but each hour,
as it went by, took her further from home; and at last, as





























































































































































































i is opin
S IW! Woh KE Sey.
WW" is if fi f Wa bole —
escorts Wig a_t ae
see , OD PANE HO
oe NP IN INS Lyf bpd) iy erie aay ae
. (LEDC a OM:
AKER LORY A VY pag oye ag
OE SE MES eh ee EOE AA Gr.

it got dusk, she lay down by the road-side, and cried herself
to sleep.
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 75

It was a fine, soft night, and the stars looked down wonder-
ingly at the little girl, and opened their round eyes with
astonishment to see her there; but though they whispered all
sorts of things to each other about her, she was too tired and
sleepy to hear them.

Next morning the dear child, somewhat refreshed, woke
up very happy, having forgotten all about her troubles, and
thinking she was going to have her breakfast; but when
she found herself sitting all alone, in a strange place, with
no one near her, then all her sorrows burst upon her afresh,
and the tears ran down her cheeks as if her heart would
break.

Poor little thing !—was it not sad? As the time wore
on she rose, and walked a little way, stopping from time to
time to pick a few flowers; for though she was so unhappy,
she still loved the bright things too much to pass them by
unheeded.

At last she came to a few cottages, and there a kind-hearted
woman gave her some delicious cool milk to drink, and told
her to go straight on down the wide road, and she would soon
come to the gates of the town of Florence, where, no doubt,
she would find her mother waiting for her. Alas! she was
only going further from home, every step that she took; but
the kind woman did not know that; and the little girl was only
five years old, and therefore could not explain clearly, where
she had come from. So she went straight on, as she had been
76 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

told, and soon arrived at the gates, and passed through them
into the town.

There she got very much bewildered, as you may imagine,
and wandered away till she got to the river Arno, that flows
through the town; but the Sun was so hot there, and the
reflection on the water so dazzling, that she turned again into
the streets. She asked a few people whom she met, where her
mother was; but they, thinking she was only begging, passed
on without paying any heed to her.

In this manner the little wanderer, weary and foot-sore,
arrived at the large square, called the “ Piazza del Duomo,” or
Cathedral Square; but she saw no beauty in the different
coloured marbles of which the Cathedral is built, or in the
graceful, lofty tower close by. She only saw, with grati-
tude, a little shade in one corner of the steps leading up
into the Cathedral; and, worn out, she lay down in this.
She did not know what she was about, or that, in her child-
ish ignoranve, she had chosen one of the hottest places in
the whole city; for the Sun’s rays fall on that Piazza with
tropical heat.

The morning grew, and the child fell fast asleep: one or
two persons, on their way out of the Cathedral, after morning
service, tried to rouse her; but, finding it useless, went on
their way.

At length, twelve o’clock came, and passed, and the Sun
cast down still fiercer rays on the city; and all those who
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 77

were able’ went home to shelter themselves from its great
heat—all but the little lost girl, who still lay on the steps
asleep; but by this time fast approaching that sleep which
has no waking.

Towards evening, the streets and Piazza begin to fill again ;
and those who had seen the child in the morning, are
astonished to find her still there. She is lifted up: the
crowd gathers round, and it is found that she is insensible—
some say, dead.

Her little bonnet had fallen off, and, in one hand, she clasped
tightly the flowers she had picked in the morning. They
carried her gently to the hospital, and laid her on a clean,
white bed, and loving hands bathed her face, and placed wet
cloths on her burning head.

But I wiil not distress my Darlings’ tender little hearts too
much. She was very ill for many weeks; but she did eventu-
ally recover: it was a sunstroke she was suffering from,
caused by lying out all day unsheltered from the burning
yays of the Sun.

That kind Sun, you see, that was shining so brilliantly,
and doing so much good to the grapes and olives, had been
too strong for the little child.

Well, she lay, as I told you before, for many weeks in the
hospital, not knowing where she was, or what had happened to
her. Sometimes she would talk about home, and father and
mother, and whether it was not time to milk the cows; and at
78 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

other times she would fancy she was by a cool, running stream,
with Annette, or Lisetta, or some other little friend, looking
for flowers, or bright pebbles; but, from the evening she was
brought into the hospital to the happy day when she was
pronounced out of danger, she never could be persuaded to
part with the wild flowers she had picked that morning. They
were firmly clasped in her little hand; and even when she got



is

i a









better, she would lay the poor withered stalks by her bedside,
that she might look at them. -
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 79

There was one kind woman in the hospital who grew to
be very fond of the child: she nursed her, and fondled
her, and talked to her, and tried to induce her to say who
she was; but, strange to say, she could not remember a single
thing that had happened to her before she came there. She
could not even say her name: they told her of a great many,
and asked her if it was one of them; but she only shook
her head, and said, “Non so;” which means, “I do not
know.” So, after some consideration, they agreed to call
her Marie; and by that name she was afterwards known to
every one.

Little Marie’s nurse was one of those kind-hearted women
who live but for one purpose in life—that of doing good, and
tending the sick. She was a Sister of Mercy; and, at first,
Marie used to stare with affright at her strange dress and
hood; but she grew so fond of her, that, when the Sister
went home in the evening, Marie would cry as bitterly as if
she were lost again.

So the time went on, and Marie had been many weary
mouths in the hospital: she was now quite recovered; and
her dark and flowing curls, that had all been cut short, were
growing long again.

Every one loved the bright little thing, dancing here and
there; and she grew to be called “Sunbeam” by many. But
Sister Genevieve was her great love; no kisses or presents
from others could shake her allegiance to her: the parting

F
80 ‘THE SISTER OF MERCY.

at’ night was one great misery, and the morning meeting
was one great joy.

At last, finding, that notwithstanding the efforts made by
the authorities to obtain some clue to the parents of the child,
no one appeared to claim her, Sister Genevieve applied for,
and had the pleasure of receiving, leave to adopt the little
Marie; and, to the child’s infinite delight, one evening took
her home with her.

Henceforward her life was a quiet and happy one: she
always accompanied the Sister in her daily visits to the
hospital; and, while she was attending to the poor sufferers,
Marie would sit quietly in a corner learning her tasks; or, if
these were ready, she would go and talk to some of the
patients whom she knew best, and who were always cheered
by a sight of the “Sunbeam.”

One of Marie’s great friends in the hospital was an old
soldier, a Belgian, called Pierre. You will think, perhaps, he
was an odd friend for a tiny girl like Marie to have; but some-
how there was a bond of sympathy between the two; and poor
old Pierre would look forward with delight to seeing the little
figure trip down the long rows of beds, and stop by the side
of his, with a smile or a laugh.

This disabled, but communicative, veteran had been at
the battle of Waterloo, and many others since that; and
bitterly did he rail at his ill-luck now to be lying in an
hospital, in a strange land, with a broken leg; not gained
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 81

gloriously in battle, but from tumbling down-stairs in his

old age.



When he was able to creep about slowly with a crutch, Marie
would go and sit with him in the window of the great corridor,
where the patients were allowed to walk up and down; and
then the old man would tell her long stories of this great
general, or that brave soldier; or talk about the heroic deeds
of his own regiment. But Marie always led the subject. back
to Waterloo, and the events of that day; she was never tired

F2
82 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

of hearing the story of Hougoumont, or the final charge of
Napoleon’s Guard. However, Pierre’s memory was not always
very good, and sometimes he would make most astonishing
variations in his story; and one day, when they were sitting
together on the window-seat, Pierre’s memory was worse
than ever.

Marie said to him, ‘‘Now I should like to hear something
about the farm-house at Hougoumont, and how the brave
English defended it.”

“ Ah,” he replied, “ that was a i story, and a fine hot fire
too. I was there” (it was quite curious how Pierre had managed
to be in all parts of the battle-field at once); “and did not we
pelt them, that’s all! Why, I saw seven men standing with
their heads just above the wall, and I killed ’em all at one shot,
like birds in a row.”

“Oh, grandfather, how could you be so cruel!”
Marie.

“My pretty one, it can’t be helped in war,” answered the

said

old man, with a self-satisfied smile, as if he really had done
such a thing, and felt quite proud of it.

“Why our King came riding by at the time; and when he
saw what I had done, he cried out, ‘ Bravo, mon brave!’ Only
just then, and while I was cheering lustily, a brute of a great
English fellow came behind, and deliberately ran his sword
right through my body, and the point came out here”—point-
ing to his chest.
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 83

“ But Pierre,” said Marie, “how was that; the English were
your friends ?”

“Oh, well, I can only say, if it was not an Englishman, it
was some other great hulking fellow; but, turning sharply
round, I soon laid him low: I cut his head clean off,
so. . . . 3” and Pierre made a great flourish with his
erutch round Marie’s head.

“Ah, it was a hot day indeed,” he continued: “it was hot
all round, and the Sun was burning overhead too; but the
hottest and most trying thing of all was when we charged up
the hill. I was standing close to the Emperor, and he looked
encouragingly at me, then waved his hat, and cried, ‘ Up,
Guards, and at ’em !”

Marie did not answer this. She could not quite reconcile
this last statement with what she had heard before; and to
tell you the truth, I think all the different armies of French,
English, Belgians, and Prussians were beginning to be as
much jumbled together in her mind as they were in poor
old Pierre’s. So she thought it would be better to change
the subject, and said— —

“And about the great monument, grandfather; did they
not raise one to the memory of the poor soldiers who were
killed ?”

“Yes,” said Pierre; “they built up a great mound of earth,
I can’t tell you how many miles high, and with steps up to
the top, all cut in stone, and a sort of pillar at the top. I
84 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

went up one day, thinking perhaps my name might be written
there on the pillar; but when I got half-way up, I remembered
as how I wasn’t dead, so it was no use looking. However, I
went on to the top, and after a hasty view of the surrounding
country, I had a rest and a smoke up there, and gave three
cheers for our King that is now.”

So the days and weeks went on; and Marie’s life was a very
happy and peaceful one. The summer came and went again
many times, and she was no longer a child, but growing up
to be a tall girl, with dark, bright eyes. Her smile was really
beautiful: though no longer called the “Sunbeam,” she
could still act and speak like one; and the poor sufferers at
the hospital would look forward to her visits now as much as
they did to Sister Genevieve’s.

As the years rolled on many changes took place. Her old
Waterloo friend, Pierre, was taken ill one morning, and was
soon at rest; some few others recovered, and bade adieu, to
come back there no more; while fresh patients took their
places. It was constant and fatiguing work; but Genevitve
and her fellow-workers never complained; they were always
bright and willing.

At last Marie came to be eighteen; and one night when they
returned home, after their long day’s work, she said to the
Sister—

“Mother, I have a boon to ask: and I shall be greatly
pleased if you will grant it before I ask.”
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 85

“No, no,” said Genevieve, laughing, “impossible; it cannot
be granted if it is not asked.”

“Yes; but it is a great secret,” persisted Marie; “one that
has been thought about for a long time, and has been slept
over a great many nights, and has not been settled the least
bit in a hurry.”

“ Oh, it is settled, is it ?” said Geneviéve; “then I need not
trouble about granting it.”

“Well no, not exactly; you see it can’t be settled till you
say ‘Yes.’ But oh, mother,” burst out the young girl, “you
will say ‘Yes,’ won’t you? I wish to be like you—a Sister
of Mercy.”

Sister Geneviéve did not know bow to answer this at first, so
she sat quite quiet, looking straight before her. Marie tried
to find out from her face what her answer would be; but she
could read nothing there. At last Genevieve got up; and
telling Marie that it was bed-time, and that she would think
the matter over, sent her to her own room.

After this, many were the conversations that the two had
together; and many times did Marie try hard to persuade her
dear mother, as she called her, to give her consent. But the
Sister had made up her mind, and nothing would induce her
to change it. No, it was not for her to doom this bright,
young girl to a life of toil and work; and besides, who could
say, with any certainty, that even now her parents might not
some day be found ?
86 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

Marie listened attentively to the words of her benevolent
benefactress, but felt greatly disappointed, and said she was
determined to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

“Oh, my Darling,” said Genevieve, “ that is just the word
that prevents me from saying ‘ Yes’to your plan. JI am not your
real mother, as you know, though I feel so, in love, towards
you. Suppose some day we had the great happiness to find
your real, true mother; what would she say to me, if I had
deprived her of her child ?”

So it was settled that Marie was not to be permitted to
become a Sister of Mercy; and you will see that the good
Sister Genevieve was quite right.

* * * * * , * *

It was two years after this, on a keen winter’s day, that a
peasant’s cart drove up to the. hospital; the wheels were
covered with snow, and the roads were â„¢ so slippery, that
it was with difficulty it had arrived there. There were two
women and an old man in the cart: it was he who was
hurt. That morning, on going out of his cottage, he had
slipped on the door-step, and hurt himself seriously.

As soon as. they had seen him comfortably settled in the
hospital, the two women went away to get lodgings in the
town; and each day they returned to see how he was going
on; so it happened, that though Genevi¢ve and Marie
were there every day, yet they did not happen to meet
them.
THE SISTER OF MERCY. 87

As the old man got better, only one of the women came;
and she used to sit much oftener, and for a longer time, by
his bedside.

One day Marie came with a basket of fruit for him—they
were grapes; and she sat down on the other side of the bed
to help him to eat them. I know not what it was, whether it
was seeing the grapes that brought back the remembrance
of her long-lost child, or that she did really recognise her;
but the woman suddenly started up, flew round the bed
to Marie, and, bursting into tears, threw her arms round
her neck.

Whose arms do you think they were? Ah, I see you
have already guessed; they were her mother’s. Yes, poor
Marie had at last found both father and mother. Sister
Genevieve was asked to tell the tale, over and over again,
of how she was seen lying on the Cathedral steps, and of how
ill she had been; and then the poor mother brought out of
her pocket a little old book, which she had never parted
from since, and in which she had written these words :—
“Anna Maria, August 2nd; six o’clock:” which was the
day and hour when she arrived home, and found her only
child gone.

I will now finish this long story by telling you, that, as
soon as the old man recovered, Marie (for we will still call her
so; and, after all, you see it was her second name) went home
with her parents.
88 THE SISTER OF MERCY.

It was a bitter grief to leave her dear Genevitve; but the
good Sister showed her that it was her duty now to be of
use to her parents in their old age, and to make up for the
many years that she had been lost to them. So they said
good-bye, promising often to come and visit the kind Gene-
vieve; and she, in her heart, thanked God that he had led
her to do what was right, and to refuse Marie’s petition to
allow her to become

A SISTER ©F MERCY.


























































“THE PIGEONS HAD BEEN CHRISTENED FOLLY, POLLY, AND DOLLY.”
TOTTIE.
CHAPTER I.

4k Ao \ aff OW I am going to tell you a story of
at six little girls: a large number in one





i a family, was it not? Some people say
C i that there are many more little girls
in the world than boys. We cannot stop
now to find out whether that is true or
not; but at all events, there were more

little girls than boys in this family; for you





see there were no boys at all.
Well, my little friends were very nice children.
The eldest was about nine, and looked upon herself as a
very great, a very old lady, and quite fit to take care of her
younger sisters.

Their parents were in India, and they had been sent home
to live with an Aunt, their father’s sister. This lady had a
nice house and garden in the country, and the six little girls
92 TOTTIE.

thought they should never be tired of asking about all the
new things they saw. |

First of all, I must tell you their names, or rather their
nicknames; for they were such funny ones, I am sure the
pretty Darlings never could have been christened by them;
and yet I never heard them called by any others. The eldest
was Lottie, and the five little ones were Tottie, Mottie, Cottie,
Dottie and Hottie.

Did you ever hear such curious, funny names before? And
they were funny little ladies too—full of pranks and tricks of
all sorts; and at first, their poor Aunt, who had never been
accustomed to children before, thought that they would worry
her life out. So she made up her mind to engage a governess
for them; and one day she arrived, looking very stern—at
least so Dottie said.

“No! cross,” said Mottie, making little signs to express this
with her finger in the air.

“ Hush, children!” exclaimed Lottie, ‘Miss Graves will hear
you: besides, you know it is rude.”

The others were silent; but Mottie made a face at Dottie, as
mouch as to say, “ Never mind, we will have some fun by-and-by.”

I must tell you, that when this conversation took place, the
children were all leaning out of a window over the porch. It
was a pretty little cottage, with ivy and creepers growing up the
walls; and the children’s bedroom looked out over the porch,
and commanded a view of the entrance gate: so at least an hour
TOTTIE. 93

before Miss Graves was to arrive, they stationed themselves at
this window to look. There were five little heads there for a
long time, watching; and as soon as the carriage arrived in
sight, the baby of two years old, Hottie, was hoisted up to the
window-sill to have her share of the fun. But I do not think
she cared much about it, as she soon screamed to be put down
again.

The next day, they all went and sat down underneath the
table that stood in the middle of their bedroom: this was their
favourite place; and they used to hang shawls and cloaks all
round it, so as to make it feel quite snug and warm, only
leaving one little hole for the light to come in. Then they
proceeded very gravely to settle by what name they should call
their new governess.

Mottie at once suggested “Gravy ;” and Cottie and Dottie
screamed with delight at the idea.

Then Tottie, with a very serious face, said “Saucy;” upon
which they all laughed again so loud, that I wonder somebody
did not come to see what was the matter.

But Lottie said, “No, it must not be anything about eating
or drinking.”

“Oh, I know,” burst in Mottie again, “it shall be Diggy, or
Spadey.”

*“Q dear, dear,” said Lottie, “when shall I teach you not
to be so extremely foolish? Now, hush! I have an idea; I
want to talk.”
94 TOTTIE.

But it was no good trying to talk: Tottie and Mottie had
got some joke between themselves; and they kept laughing
in such an absurd way, that anyone else looking on would
have thought they were going to burst; their faces were quite
scarlet.

At last, Lottie got a little cross, and told them that if they
would be so silly, and not say what they were laughing about,
she should go away, and break up the consultation.

This was too dreadful a prospect to think about for one mo-
ment; so they both began speaking at once: and when order
was a little restored, Mottie began to tell the joke, laughing all
the time. It was, that Tottie and she had made up their minds
to call her “ Wiggy:” for the mischievous Tottie having sus-
pected she wore false hair, had slipped into the new governess’s
room early that morning, with the maid, who was taking in the
hot water, and had seen, with her own two eyes, Miss Graves
sitting up in bed with a strange-looking nightcap on, and
her fashionable wig calmly resting on the stand, on the top
of the chest of drawers.

When Lottie heard this, she laughed just as much as the
others had done; but when that was over, she thought within
herself that they could not be so rude or unkind as to
call her “ Wiggy :” so she said— ,

“Now, children, we must really be serious. You know Aunty
said we were to try and look on Miss Graves as our friend. Of
course she cannot be our very best friend if she gives us long
TOTTIE, 95

lessons to learn, and exercises to write out; but still she may.
be a sort of a friend; so I think, the least we can do is, to
call her “ Friendy.” It is a nice name, and I am sure Aunty
would like it.

How much longer the five little tongues would have gone on
talking together, I don’t know. Little Hottie could not speak
plain yet, and was too young to be asked her opinion: so she
sat and listened only. Just then the tea-bell rang: so they
settled very hastily, that the new governess was to be called

”

“ Friendy ;” and off they ran to get ready for tea.

CHAPTER ITI.

Two or three days after this, when the children were begin-
ning to know Miss Graves a little better, Lottie determined to
summon all her courage for the purpose of telling her the new
name they had given her, and by which they meant to call
her, if she had no objection.

So with very red cheeks she went quietly up to Miss Graves’
chair, put her arms round her neck, and asked leave for them
to call her “Friendy.” Miss Graves was very much touched:
she had already taken a great fancy to Lottie, who was a
96 ; TOTTIE,

sweet, gentle child; and she kissed her most tenderly, and
told her how pleased she was to think that the little girls
wished to look upon her as a friend; and that they might
call her by any name they liked.

Then Lottie ran off delighted, to tell her sisters; and Miss
Graves sat quietly in her chair, thinking to herself what a sweet
nature it was that could have suggested such a name. With
Tottie and Mottie she felt sure she should have a little trouble ;
their spirits were so wild: and as for Tottie, she was con-
tinually in some mischief or other, either by herself, or leading
Mottie into it. The two little girls were also continually
quarrelling. You must not imagine that they did not fight
and quarrel like other children; but they always made up
their little differences before they went to bed. They had
the deepest affection for each other; and neither Tottie or
Mottie could close their eyes before they had said in French
to each other—

“ Bon soir, nous sommes bonnes amies.”

It was almost the only little bit of French they knew; but
they had been taught it by their dear mother before they left
India; and they never forgot it. When these few words had
been said, they felt at peace with all the world, and were asleep
in a few minutes.

But now I must get on with my story.

The summer days flew quickly by, and the trees were begin-
ning to be tinged with yellow and brown. The children had
TOTTIE. 97

passed a very happy summer: “ Friendy” had been very kind
to them; and, together with their Aunt, had planned all sorts
of treats for them. They had enjoyed picnics in the wood,
and tea in the garden, and rides on the old pony, and games
in the hay-field. Besides this, they had six little gardens; one
each, all to themselves. Lottie, Tottie, and Mottie kept theirs
very nice: Lottie’s was a large square bed, and the other two
were round—one on each side of her’s; they were planted with
red and pink geraniums, heliotrope, and, what I like better
than anything else, those large double garden daisies, pink
and white, with yellow eyes,

Of course, the three younger children were too little to know
how to take care of their gardens, but still it was a great
amusement for them to have their own garden; and they
wonld do, what I think a great many other little folk have
done in their day: they would plant some flowers in the morn-
ing,
evening.

and thought it great fun to dig them up again in the

One day, Cottie and Dottie were observed to be very busy in
their gardens; first digging a hole in one place, and then in
another, and another: in short, they never seemed tired of
digging holes and filling them up again. When Tottie found
this out with her quick little eyes, she ran to Dottie’s garden to
see what it was all about; and what do you think the little
girls were doing?

They had found a poor wee robin redbreast, that had fallen

G
98 TOTTIE.

out of its mother’s nest, and been killed by the cold nights ;
and they were digging holes to bury it in; but it was so
amusing, that as soon as Dottie had buried it in one hole,
Cottie dug it up again, and put it into another.

Directly Tottie found that her two sisters were thus occupied,
she thought she would have a share in.the fun; so she called
Mottie, and away they both ran, and soon commenced digging
little holes all along the garden beds, and under each rose-
tree; leaving both Dottie and Cottie crying bitterly at the
loss of their dear wee robin.

When Miss Graves heard the children crying, she called them
to come and tell her what was the matter; and as soon as she
made out a tolerably distinct account, she went to look for
Tottie and Mottie. She was some time before she could find
them; for having deposited the robin, for the space of half a
minute, under each rose-tree, they were off into the shrubbery,
to begin the same process under each bush.

No one could help laughing to see them, so eager were they
about it; but “ Friendy” thought they had played at this game
long enough; and she tried to explain to them, that though the
poor robin could not feel what they were doing, still, it did not
seem kind to be knocking its poor little body about in that
way; and then she showed them how all its feathers had got
crumpled and dirty.

Tottie said they were very sorry—they did not mean to hurt
the robin: and she promised “Friendy” not to touch the bird
TOTTIE. 99

again, if she would allow her to dig just one more hole for it;

so “Friendy” and the two little girls buried it under a







beautiful white rose-bush, and then went in to their lessons.
Poor Tottie cast several longing looks back at the bush; and I
am sorry to say, that she thought, in her own. little mind—
“When I have done my lessons, I shall run and take just a
very tiny, little wee peep at the dear robin.”

She did not mean to dig it up again, only to take a peep to
see that it was all safe. But “Friendy,” kind as she was,

G2
100 . TOTTIE,

did not overlook her duty, and was quite up to the ways and
thoughts of Miss Tottie; and that afternoon, when she went
to the bush, to take her tiny wee peep, she found no robin.
Miss Graves had desired the gardener to take it away; and
“so the little girls, to their great disappointment and sorrow,

never saw the dead robin again.



CHAPTER ITI.

I rorcor to tell you, all this time, that the children had some
very dear pets—three white soft pets. I know you will guess
rabbits; but they were not rabbits—something a great deal
prettier. They were three beautiful white pigeons. These
pigeons belonged to their Aunt; and lived in a hutch built
at the side of the house, close under Aunty’s window, and
she would feed them from there every morning. Then they
would fly down, and walk proudly about the lawn, spreading
their fan-tails, and looking as if they wished very much to
be admired.

They would coo and talk in their own way to the little girls;
which was very pretty, and I have no doubt, was very wise, if
they could have understood all the pigeons said. Tottie, with
TOTTIE. 101

her love of mischief, would pretend to tell the younger
ones what the fan-tails were talking about; and Cottie and
Dottie were silly things, and believed all she said. She liked
to make out that they were praising herself; and one day she
whispered—

“Cottie dear, do you know Polly said just now, I was so
pretty—oh, so very pretty.”

The pigeons, I must tell you, had been christened Folly,
Polly, and Dolly.

“But, Tottie, you are not pretty,” answered Cottie; “how
could Polly have said such a thing; you have such an ugly
nose; I think sister Lottie much prettier than you.”

“You are very rude,” said Tottie; “and you are only a baby;
you don’t know anything about noses.”

“Oh! but,” retorted Cottie, “I heard nurse tell Maria, the
other day, that your face was for all the world like a pumpkin
with three slits in it. Yes, she did indeed,” continued Cottie ;
“she said ‘for all the world.’ I don’t exactly know what that
means; but nurse said so, I know.” .

Tottie’s face was getting redder and redder every minute;
and at last she burst into tears. Poor Tottie, she certainly
was not a pretty child, with her snub nose and wide mouth;
but, like all ugly people, she was very vain, and constantly
thinking about her looks, and her hair, and whether her curls
were in proper order. All this made people laugh at her, and
think her very silly; and Miss Graves had continually told
102 TOTTIE.

her how ridiculous she made herself: the foolish, vain Tottie,
however, persevered in thinking about herself, and looking
frequently in the glass; and actually, one night, she was found
with vurse’s cap hid under the bed-clothes, intending, when
all were asleep, and the room was quite quiet, to get up and
see how she looked in it.

Now, however, when Cottie told her that nurse had said her
face was. like. a pumpkin, she could not help shedding tears
of mortification. She tried to choke them down again—but
no, they would come, great big drops streaming over her face
faster and faster.

Cottie’s tender little heart was quite touched by this: she
had not intended to make Tottie ery, and she ran and kissed
her, saying, “ Naughty nurse, naughty Maria make dear Tottie
ery.”

Fortunately, the largest of the pigeons, Dolly, just. then made
a diversion by beginning to peck Polly; and Tottie forgot her
sorrows in watching the two birds quarrelling over a few peas.
Dolly was not kind to Polly, who was a much smaller bird:
somehow he. had never cared for her; and he was very partial
to Folly, and used to let her have-all the erumbs and peas.

Folly certainly was a very nice bird, and much the prettiest.
She had the whitest and neatest plumage, and the most
graceful way of walking about the lawn, cooing in a low tone,
as if she felt so contented and happy she did not know what to
do with herself. .
TOTTIE. 103

The little girls watched her too, and threw them all some
crumbs of bread; and then Cottie said, “ Do you know, Tottie,
I don’t think Folly is thinking or talking about anybody but
herself; and look at poor Polly, she has got quite a bad sore
place on her head: I think it is very unkind of Dolly to peck
her so cruelly, and I shan’t love him. any more for being’ so
spiteful.”





Just then they heard a scream of delight; and, looking up,
they saw Dottie run down the steps, and tear over the lawn
104 TOTTIE.

as fast as two of the stumpiest, fattest little legs could carry
her. She held a small piece of paper in her hand; and having
sat herself down on the grass to rest, and get a little breath,
she said—

““ Now Tottie, grow Dottie.”

“¢ My dear Dot, what do you mean ?”

“ Grow Dottie,” the little thing kept on eae et
Dottie’s body.”

“ But I don’t know what you mean,” laughed Tottie; “I
can't grow your body. What do you want me to do with this
bit of paper ?”

“Oh, do grow Dottie’s body:” then, as if a bright idea had
struck her“ then grow Dottie’s face.”

At this they all laughed more than ever: it was such a
funny notion, the growing of Dottie’s face and body; and I
believe they would still be wondering what the child meant,
“if Dottie had not got a piece of stick, and showed them that,
she wanted Tottie to make a picture of her. Lottie very
often made nice pictures for them of other little girls like
themselves, and boys; and Dottie thought that Tottie would
be able to do the same. But Tottie was not old enough, or
clever enough to do that, so they had another good laugh over
Dottie’s funny English; and then they all ran off to find Lottie
and Mottie, and see if they were not ready for a game of hide-
and-seek in the garden.
TOTTIE, 105

CHAPTER IV.

So the days and the weeks went quickly by; and now I am
coming to the end of my story about the six little girl Darlings.
It was getting on to Christmas—only a few weeks; and the
happy time was very near that they had been looking forward |
to with such eagerness.

Their Aunt had promised them a Christmas tree, if they were
good till then; and said also that she should ask some other
girls and boys to come and have tea, and share the fun. In
short, it was almost too brilliant a prospect for them to look
forward to.

The elder ones were very busy preparing surprises for each
other, and for their Aunt, and Friendy, and in making paper
flowers to adorn their school-room with: not that I fancy
Tottie and Mottie did much; for they kept jumping about,
and playing, instead of doing the work that Lottie had given
them to do. However, they fancied they helped a great deal,
and were sometimes quite cross with poor Cottie and Dottie,
who, of course, did nothing but get in the way at every turn,
and run off with the scissors and paper, or anything else
within their reach, at the exact moment when they were most
wanted.
106 TOTTIE.

One afternoon it had been very wet and gloomy, and the
children had not been able to go out. Miss Graves gave them
a half-holiday, in order that they might get on nicely with
the Christmas preparations. They were all very busy in their
way, when the school-room door opened, and tiny Hottie
toddled in.

“<() dear me,” said Tottie, “we sa have you here, ai
you will make the room in such a mess.’

“ Hush, Tottie,” answered Friendy; “I am quite shocked at
you. Come in, Darling, and I will give you the dominoes to
play with.”

Hottie, supremely indifferent to all that was said about her,
squatted herself down on the floor, and was really very good
and quiet indeed for the space of two minutes. It did not
last longer than that, certainly; and then she proceeded to
perambulate the room, in search of articles of amusement ;
pulling down Lottie’s last rose, or upsetting Tottie’s box of
pins, or hiding Mottie’s scissors. In short, all but the quiet
Lottie were beginning to lose patience; and Tottie said one or
two very cross things; and Mottie gave Hottie a few sly pushes:
at last, she tried to pull a flower out of Dottie’s hand: this
was too much for Dot, and she set up a yell, and resisted;
and Hottie screamed too, and pulled with all her might; and
before Friendy could reach them to make peace, the two angry
little Darlings rolled over each other on the floor, more
frightened than hurt.
TOTTIE. 107

“TY wish nurse would not bring Hottie down here,” cried
Tottie ; ae is always in the mays and see how this noise
disturves us.’

“Disturbs, I suppose you mean, Tottie,” answered Miss
Graves: “if I were you, I would not use big words tiil I
knew how they were spelt. Besides, if Hottie could speak,
she would say, “ Be loving and kind.to me; recollect I am. ony
a dear baby.”

“T am sure,” sighed Tottie, “babies are not always very
dear. They slobber so, and always give such wet kisses. I
should like Hottie much better if she was a dry baby, and not
so troublesome.”

Miss Graves could not help laughing to. herself at Tottie’s
funny notions; but she looked very grave, and.told her, that
perhaps some day she might be very sorry indeed for her
unkind words about Hottie, and wish that the time could
come over again, that she might be kinder to her’ baby
sister.

And what Friendy said was quite true; for about a week
after this, Hottie was taken very ill with croup and cold; and
for many days and nights her life was in danger. Tottie was
very unhappy about it; and she would sit on the stairs all
day, and watch first this person, and then the other, come out
of the nursery; being anxious to hear a favourable account,
and feeling amply rewarded if only they would tell her how
the dear baby was.
108 TOTTIE,

Tottie was not the only one who grieved for the Darling;
all the little girls were very unhappy; but Tottie could not
help thinking of what “Friendy” had said to her, because
she knew, in her own mind, that it was not the only time
by many that she had been unkind to Hottie; and her
conscience reproached her for sundry pinches and pats, that
she had bestowed on the baby, when she teased her, and nobody
was looking. :

“ Now,” she thought to herself, “if Hottie will only get quite
well, I will never be unkind again.”

Lottie was the only one who was allowed to go into the
nursery; the others were all kept away, and only crept up now
and then to sit on the stairs, or listen at the door. Cottie and
Dottie had their little beds taken into a spare room, and
thought it rather grand on the whole, and would not have
been sorry if Hottie’s illness had enabled them to stay there
for some time. But then, you must remember, they were only
three and four years old, and did not understand what it
all meant; they only knew that the change to a new room
was very delightful. .

In the course of the next few weeks Hottie got better; and
one morning, their Aunt called the five little girls into her
sitting-room, and told them that now, the doctor said, their
dear sister would recover, and that therefore the Christmas
tree and the party, if nothing else stood in the way, would
come off as originally intended.
TOTTIE, 109

Their Aunt said that, at one time, she thought it would
have been obliged to be put off; but now that the dear baby
was getting quite well, they must make great haste to have
all their preparations ready.

The little girls shouted for joy—all except Tottie, who
put her face down close to Aunty’s ear, and whispered to
her—

“ Aunty, allow me to say, I always felt sure that Hottie
would get well.”

“Why, dear,” said her Aunt; “no one could possibly tell
whether God, in his loving-kindness and mercy, would spare |
her to us or not.”

“No, perhaps not,” answered Tottie; “but the pigeons
knew it; for Maria says they used to wake up every morning
about five o’clock, just before sunrise, and then she heard them
cooing, and saying, ‘The baby is better; the baby is better :’
and do you know, Aunty, whenever they cooed and said that,
Hottie always was better.”

Aunty said she thought it was a very pretty idea; but she
could not fancy it to have had anything to do with Hottie’s
recovery: instead of thinking that, they must all be very
thankful to the Almighty, who had not taken her away
from them,

And now I must take leave of our six girl Darlings, as this
has been quite a long story. The last time I heard of them,
Lottie was still the same sweet, gentle child she always was;
110 TOTTIE,

and Tottie and Mottie were not quite so troublesome. Tottie
had been trying to be kind to her younger sisters, and more
unselfish ; and she had succeeded, and been most fully repaid
for it by the love that they gave her in return. As for the
tiny Darling Hottie, she was growing up to think that, in all
the world, there was no one so delightful as her dear and affec-
tionate sister—

SPOTTlEe.












SSR









OF

EEN

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ED TO TH
“ATRY

NTRODUC

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by

WORLD.

THE F
THE FAIRIES BALL

‘CHAPTER I.

HE next morning, true to his promise,
the Sun shone as brightly as ever; and
his beams played merrily about the room
oN ai YN where the Darlings were assembled, eagerly
A207 _¢%) waiting to have their old friend’s “ Fairy
Tale.”
Dear me, what happy little faces! what
laughing eyes! what excitement there was, as
Mr. Sun put his shining face in at the window,
-A, and began to tell them the following story !

Near a deep, blue lake, in the midst of a
beautiful wood, lived old Dame Bridget, or, as she was
generally called, ‘The Witch of the Lake.” She was a good-
tempered, merry old soul; and though she had such an
alarming name, many little Darlings delighted in paying




114 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

her a visit. There were all sorts of stories about her—that
she loved to hold councils with Fairies, and ride on the backs
of hobgoblins. In fact, many people said that strange-looking
creatures had been seen to come out of her pretty cottage.

But for all that, she was a general favourite; and, at the
time I am speaking of, two little nephews were spending a
fortnight with her.

They were dear boys, and their names were Ned and Jack:
they were merry and light-hearted; and their greatest en-
joyment was to roam about the beautiful wood, gathering wild
flowers ; returning home loaded with blue-bells, violets, forget-
me-nots, daisies, and buttercups, not forgetting the pretty
lichens and mosses that abounded amongst the rocks.

Fishing was also a great source of amusement to them; and
many a time, the deep, blue lake reflected two joyous little
faces, who, in their innocent mirth, never imagined the agony
of the poor scaly prisoners at being dragged out of their
watery home, and laid to die on the grass.

One afternoon, when they came home from a long ramble,
Dame Bridget announced to them a great piece of news. That
very morning, while they were away, she had received an in-
vitation from the “ Queen of the Fairies,” to go to a large ball
at midnight in her flower-garden; and on this grand occasion
her favourite flowers were to throw off their inanimate forms,
and join in the revels of the evening.

This was, as you may suppose, an event delightful to think
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. 115

of: they danced and clapped their hands for joy, and would
hardly listen to the Dame, when she told them that it was
not to be till the next evening, and that therefore they had
got twenty-four hours in which to think it over.

Ned and Jack remained a long while awake after good old
Bridget had tucked them up, talking of the fun and pleasure
they would have at the Ball of the “Queen of the Fairies,”
and wondering what she would look like.

The next morning, an hour before I thought of making my
appearance, Jack was out: of bed, exclaiming—

“Oh dear! oh dear! Mr. Sun, you are not up yet; how late
you are: please break through these dreary, grey-looking
clouds, else I fear it will be a wet day; and what will become
of our dance by moonlight if the grass is damp !”

However, being, as usual, very indulgent to my earthly
Darlings, I did not disappoint them, and a brighter day was
never seen. Birds were singing on every bough; the pretty
flowers had put. on their most attractive and gayest colours; in
fact, every one of them, from the modest Daisy to the queenly
Rose, felt happy; and each whispered to her neighbour—

“ What a glorious, glorious day !”

My little friends were up and dressed before the lark had
thought even of looking for his early worm: their joy was so
great, that old Bridget had the greatest difficulty in keeping
them in order.

Jack would stand on his head, instead of his heels; which

H
116 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

astonished and alarmed the good Dame, who told him more
than once, that if he did not take care, he would remain stand-
ing on his head, and then there would be no party for him in

































the evening. This put a stop to his capers, as the idea of
missing a delightful, grand, grown-up midnight party, to say
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. 117

nothing of the wonderful Fairies, was not to be thought of for a
moment.

I followed the two boys in their morning scramble in the
wood; no pleasure could, or would, they find there that day:
the little gold fish fearlessly came to the top of the blue lake,
guessing, no doubt, that Jack and Ned were thinking about
other things that day. The boys wandered listlessly about,
sighing, and exclaiming—

“ Will this day never end ?” -

I thought to myself how ungrateful to wish their old friend
Sun so soon out of sight: but I forgave them; they were only
children, after all.

Before I wished my Darlings good-night, I had the satisfac-
tion of taking a peep at Jack first, and then at Ned, whilst they
were dressing.

Jack was dressed as a merry “ Jack-tar,” and Ned as a soldier.
Both were exceedingly vain of their appearance. Ned strutted
about the room in the most absurd way, brandishing his sword,
and declaring if any of the guests misbehaved themselves, he
would cut off their heads. Jack had no such ferocious inten-
tions, and contented himself with practising the hornpipe, in
order to astonish the fairies.

Just. then he looked out of the window, and the dear boy
exclaimed—

“Oh! look, Ned, what a glorious sunset !—now the moon will
soon appear. Good-night, Mr. Sun: when your rays dazzle our

H2
118 THE FAIRIES BALL.

sleepy eyes to-morrow morning, we will tell you all about our
grand ball.”

Then I gradually sank to rest; and as I did so, I heard their
merry little voices saying—

“Dear old Sun, he has been very good to us to- day.”



CHAPTER II.

THE next morning, as I had expected, there was the greatest
difficulty in waking the two boys: vainly did I dart the most
dazzling rays through the window-blind, and vainly did my
leams pour into the room. No, their sleepy eyes refused to
open. About eleven o’clock, a maid came and pulled up the
blind, and then I went boldly in. There they were lying, still
fast asleep, each in his own comfortable bed; hair tossed
about, lips apart and smiling; and every now and then there
came an exclamation of “ What fun!” from one or other of
the little sleepers; so I concluded they were dreaming of the
ball.

Then I thought they had slept quite long enough; and I
seated myself on Ned’s bed, and threw the whole of my golden
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. 119

Tight on his flushed face. He could not bear that very long; and
presently he awoke with a start, and cried—

“Where am I? Oh! I see—here you are, dear Sun; I sup-
pose you are in a hurry to hear the news.”

By this time Jack was also awake; and there was quite an
uproar as to who should tell first of the grand doings.

Ned being the eldest, I put in my word, and settled that
he should begin; and Jack might say anything he liked
afterwards.

“Well,” said Ned, after a great deal of rubbing of eyes, “I
must ccllect my brains.” (He meant senses, but J think they
had gone ball-gathering.) “For we really saw so much, and
did so much, that I cannot tell where to begin. By-the-by,
old Sun, I saw you peeping in at us whilst we were dressing last
evening; so, of course, there is no use in wasting time by tell-
ing you how we were dressed. I made a capital soldier, brave
and gay; and Jack, as a sailor, looked very well, so every one
said; but, for my part, I thought he showed off a great deal
too much—dancing his wonderful hornpipe, waving his hat,
and screaming out like a crazy donkey, ‘I’m a jolly Jack-tar.’”

“No, I did not,” broke in Jack; “it is not fair to say that;
you made much more noise than I did.”

“Well, don’t quarrel, my children,” said I; “but go on,
Ned; and don’t interrupt him, Jack.”

“T thought,” continued Ned, “that we made a very smart ap-
pearance at home; but we found ourselves most distressingly
120 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

thrown in the shade by the radiant creatures we met at the
~ Queen’s palace.

















wil i i ihe
ee |
i i iu a ~4






“Even Aunt Bridget did not look like her ordinary self: she
looked most extra-ordinary in her rustling dress, which I thought
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. J21

was made of silver paper. When I said this, she looked
dreadfully proud and angry; and answered, quite spitefully
—‘Can’t you see, you silly young mortal, that it is silver-
grey silk ?’

“This completely shut me up, and I inwardly thought, ‘How
good Aunt Bridget is changed all of a sudden!’

“In a few minutes I heard the rumbling wheels of a carriage
at the garden-gate; and how we did stamp and clap our hands!

“Now, I must tell you that we had often remarked, at the
end of the garden, an old, tumbledown-looking, low-roofed
house. On asking what it was, we had been told, that Aunt
Bridget, in her prosperous days, had kept a coach and pair: but
for many, many years, the stables had been mysteriously locked
up, and the old coach lay there, mouldering away—a welcome
shelter to insects. Imagine, then, our surprise when we saw,
drawn up before the door, the gorgeously painted, old, yellow
family coach, and not only one pair, but two pairs of prancing,
grey horses.

“Aunt Bridget looked like a queen as she stepped proudly
into the coach; and as we followed bewilderingly, I thonght to
myself, this is the beginning of wonders. The gardens and
woods seemed to fly past us, and no express train could have
travelled faster than we did. After a drive, which to our ex-
cited minds seemed endless, we entered a large forest: the trees
were all illuminated with coloured lights, and birds of the
brightest plumage were singing merrily, and hopping from
122 THE FAIRIES BALL. .

bough to bough. One dear little fellow saucily perched himself
on Aunt Bridget’s cap: I seized hold of it; but, to my great
astonishment, it seemed gradually to get smaller and smaller,
until at last nothing but a tiny gold feather was left in my
hand, with these words written on it—‘ Forget-me-not.’”

“And, oh!” said Jack, “you have forgotten all about the
fairy cars flying through the air, filled with the prettiest
Fairies you can imagine; many of them with silver and golden
wings; and as they flew along, their light gossamer dresses
appeared like white clouds floating around them.”

“But I have not forgotten anything of the sort,” answered —
Ned; “only you will interrupt so, Jack: of course I was going
to say all about that, anda great deal more; but you put it
all out of my head.”

“Oh, there’s a lark!” laughed Jack; “why, one would think
it had never got very far in.”

“ Well,” continued Ned, “at last we got to the palace of
the Queen of the Fairies; and I hardly know how to deseribe
it. The walls were of pure gold, thickly studded with precious
stones; and here and there pillars of alabaster, wreathed with
lovely flowers; and in the centre of each flower sparkled a
valuable jewel. Inside the palace, everything seemed made of
gold; and in the middle of the ceiling was an enormous
chandelier, made of pink, white, and red roses, and little elves
were peeping out of each. They seemed to enjoy themselves
up there very much; for I caught them winking both eyes
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. 123

at once; and I heard them making remarks on the company
below.

“When Jack and I passed by, I heard one of them say,
‘ Holloa, Polly, how are you?’ I looked very angry, and drew
my sword; but it was of no use; I could not reach them; and
just then Dame Bridget suddenly took both of us by the hand,
and said, ‘Come and be introduced to the King and Queen of
the Fairy World.’ I felt almost dazed; but walked up with
her to the foot of the throne, where the King and Queen were
standing, surrounded by their Court, and, it seemed to me,
covered with peacocks’ wings and feathers——”

“What? the Court or the throne, Ned?” said I; “for you
are not very clear on that point.” .

“Oh, dear Sun, how can you laugh at me! I mean the
throne; and it looked so very beautiful—Oh dear! so beauti-
ful——”

“Well, get on, do, there’s a good fellow,” said Jack, “ or
you will never finish. I cannot sit here, holding my tongue,
very much longer; and so I warn you——”

“ Well,” continued Ned, “every one made way for us as we
approached the throne; and the Queen shook hands very
cordially with Aunt Bridget, and then said, ‘So these little
mortals are your nephews.’ I felt rather indignant at being
called ‘a little mortal ;’ for I remembered being called so by
my old nurse. Whenever she was in a bad humour, she used
to call out, at the pitch of her voice, ‘Oh, you tiresome little
124 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

mortal! However, I thought this was not the moment in
which to remember unpleasant things; so I summoned up
courage to look at the Queen. Her dress quite dazzled my
eyes; and one of the maids-in-waiting told me secretly, that
the silkworms in the garden had been spinning it for weeks
and weeks: it looked like the softest thistle-down, and was
covered with beetles’ wings.

“The King’s dress was also very grand, and covered with huge
butterflies, stuck on with pins. I thought it looked a little
odd; but then, you know, every one looked odd. He held a
sceptre in his hand; and on the top of this sat an old toad;
and how he did croak! It made me jump——”

“Yes, didn’t you jump! that’s all!” laughed Jack; “I ex-
pected to see you standing outside your skin; you jumped like
a sky-rocket——”

“TJ did not see the fun of having a slimy old toad for a
pet,” continued Ned; “but the King seemed very fond of him.
By this time all the company had arrived; and the rooms
were filled with all sorts of people. Every one began to dance;
and goodies were handed round by Frogs in flower-cups. Oh,
how we laughed at the Frogs, and the length of their white ties !
and they seemed to be constantly getting in each other’s way.

“On coming in, I had observed that curtains were drawn
over the windows. Just as I was thinking it was very hot,
another band struck up, and these curtains were drawn suddenly
away from the windows, and a beautiful sight presented itself
THE FAIRIES’ BALL 125

to our eyes. A lovely flower-garden, as light as if it were day,
and a river flowing through it, full of fish of every colour, and
eels disporting themselves in it likewise, and emitting sparks
of light whenever they moved; and the broad leaves of the
water-lily shining out at the top of all. Can you imagine the
beautiful scene ?

‘Then we had a sort of play, or procession. The Will-o’-the-
wisps came first, dancing about; and we ran after them till we
were quite hot and tired, but never succeeded in catching even
one little one. Then the Roses all walked round the garden,
wearing golden crowns, followed by Carnations and Lilies; and
then came lots of other flowers, all dancing along—Daisies, and
Hyacinths, and Geraniums; but the most absurd part of that
was, that the Violets said they were too shy to walk before so
many people, and also that they were not accustomed to show
. their legs; so there was a procession of Yellow Jonquils; and
each Jonquil carried a Violet in his arms, and you could only
see its little head peeping out: it made us all laugh; they
looked so like babies.

“T ventured to ask a proud, stately-looking Lily, whether she
would dance with me; but she turned scornfully away, and
replied, ‘You are much too little for my tall self’ I caught
sight of Jack, cutting about with the Daisies; and so I went
and joined them, and we left the grand flowers to them-
selves.”

“ Yes,” said Jack; “now let me talk. The Daisies were up
126 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

to all sorts of nonsense, and told people’s fortunes, and what
was going to happen to them; so I went up to a fine merry-
looking fellow, and asked him his name, and my fortune. He
said his name was ‘ Good Temper ;’ and that, in future, when-
ever I was naughty, I should feel a little prick on my arm.
I did not altogether like that; for, to tell you the truth,
dear Sun, I thought he might prick me too often. Just as I
was thinking of this, a number of Frogs came running into the



garden, and called out in loud voices, ‘Supper, butter, lupper,
putter, hupper! I could not think what it all meant at first ;
THE FAIRIES’ BALL. 127

but I followed the others. The King and Queen led the way;
and then every one followed, higgledy-piggledy. I need scarcely
tell you that the supper was magnificent; tables of fabulous
size, and groaning with ull the delicacies of the day. Cakes so
big, that the Fairies had to stand on the table to cut them.

“The principal cake was placed in front of the Queen; and
judge of our astonishment when, as slice after slice was cut, we
heard a jingling noise. Ned and I stood on tiptoe, to see what
had happened; and fancy—the dish was surrounded with
sovereigns, shillings, and sixpences that had fallen from the
. cake.

“ We both screamed out, ‘ Give us some cake ;’ and two Frogs
instantly brought us some. Imagine my delight when I found
in my plate a bright gold sovereign; but Ned had only two
shillings in his. I thought to myself how much richer I am
than he is, when I felt a sudden prick, and it really was rather
sharp. This made me remember the Fairy Daisy; and, on
looking down at my plate again, I saw written, in large letters,
on my beautiful bright sovereign, these words—‘ Counterfeit
Coin.’

“JT looked at Ned’s; but his was all right; and I felt I had
been very greedy about the money; and somehow I knew the
Fairies must have had something to do with changing it.

“Then the cheering began ; and the Queen’s health was drunk ;
and I began to get so sleepy, that I could only hear a voice
in my ear like ‘ Pop, pop, pop!”
128 THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

“T was not nearly so sleepy,” said Ned. “TI tried to wake
Jack ; but he only said, ‘Bother.’ So Aunt Bridget whistled
for the yellow coach, and Jack was hoisted in, snoring and
still saying, ‘Bother ;’ and we said good-bye to all our kind
friends; and I am sure, dear Sun, that if you tell our ad-
ventures in Fairy-land, to any of your earth Darlings, they will

think us two very lucky little ‘ mortals.’ ”

”

“Now, my pets,” said the Sun, “my Fairy Tale is finished.
I must leave now, as I promised to go and cheer a poor little
crippled Darling this morning. I hope the story has amused
you; and that you will not forget me as soon as Iam gone.

So good-bye for the present.”






















































































“* HOW COLD It IS! AND HOW BITTER ‘THE WIND IS!’ SAID
A PALE-FACED PRIMROSE TO HERSELF.”
THE AUTUUN PRINROSE,

wind is!” said a pale-faced Primrose
to herself, when she opened her leaves
, for the first time one autumn morn-

‘ y OW cold it is! and how bitter the
Ve




BR
ing.

“Why, of course it is; you are too

‘ late,” answered her neighbour, a full-

= blown, hardy Rose. “ What business

eR have you to be making your appearance

now? Why, all your family were here in

4 the spring: they stayed about a month—not longer,

certainly. I never expected to see you now.”
“T think I must have been fast asleep,” said the poor Prim-
rose; “I feel very chilly. I wonder whether the wind will



Dory
a =

always blow so hard ?”

“OQ dear, yes,” said the Rose; “and, for my part, I rather
like it. It blows all the insects out that collect in my petals;
and it makes me feel so fresh and light. Of course, I like the
132 THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE.

Sun best—what flower does not? but I don’t dislike the wind
for all that: it is pleasant to be swayed and rocked about.”

“But the Sun does not come here this morning,” answered
the Primrose: “it is twelve o’clock; surely he ought to be up
by this time.”

“Oh,” said the hardy Rose, “he does not come here every
day ; sometimes he has other things to do, and other places to
visit. He does not shine down on our little garden every day.



























I think it is very stupid of you, Miss Prim, not to come here
with all your relations; you look so foolish standing there all
THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE. 133

by yourself, besides being very pale and ugly. I should not at
all wonder if you were to catch cold, and die to-night.”

The poor little Primrose shivered when she heard the harsh,
cruel words of the Rose; and she thought this world was a
very cold place to live in; and she began to wish she had never |
been born. But just then a sweet little girl of seven years
old came running up the garden-walk, and stopped to look at
the Rose. The proud creature seemed to grow scarlet with
delight; but the little girl did not take much notice of her,
and was on the point of running on, when she caught sight of
the Primrose. “Now that is a funny thing,” said she. “To
think of a Primrose in the month of September! I wonder
what it feels, poor thing; and why it never came out before”
—and our little friend knelt down by the side of the Primrose,
and stroked its leaves.

“ Hideous thing!” murmured the red Rose, “ with no colour,
and no smell; I wonder what the child is doing to it. Now,
there is something to look at in me. What a time she is
kneeling down there! . . . . O dear! she is never going
to pick her, and leave me here!”

But it was quite true. Our little friend, whose name was
Lulu, picked the pale, tender Primrose, wrapped a green leaf
round its body, and, without casting one more look at the
proud Rose, ran into the house with her burden.

- The Rose was so mortified, that she shed tears of vexation; and
all her leaves curled up with anger, and she became very ugly. -
I
134 THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE.

Lulu carried the Primrose up to her room, and put it into
water, and placed it in a warm, sheltered place in her window.
Then, as soon as it was comfortably settled there, she called
all her brothers and sisters to look at the wonderful prize she
had got—a Primrose in the month of September !

Well, it was a very wonderful thing, certainly ; and how they
all talked about it, and looked, and wondered, and guessed all
manner of things as to why it had blown at that season of the
year! And the dear little flower pricked up her ears, and heard
that she had suddenly become a person of great importance.
She was no longer the neglected and despised creature in the
garden, but a beautiful flower, like the rest of them there. No
doubt she had done wrong in sleeping so long, and being so
much behind her time; but, after all, was she not the more
valued for that ?

After a short time, the children’s dinner-bell rang, and they
all rushed merrily away; and the Primrose thought she would
look about, and see what sort of world she was in. It wasa
large, airy room, full of flowers, and birds in cages, and plenty
of toys and books. It seemed such a large place to the Prim-
rose. By-and-by she heard a whispering and murmuring
noise; and she found that the flowers in the room were palin
about her, like those in the garden had done.

Some of them said, “ Who is she?” Others asked, “ Where
does she come from?” “What is she?” In fact, they all
asked questions, because there was no one to give any answers,
THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE, 135

as nobody knew anything about her; so all agreed that she was
a stranger, who had come there out of season, and therefore
that they should not make her acquaintance. Poor little
Primrose !—it was rather hard upon her, do you not think so?

When she heard the other flowers talking in this way, she
felt very strange and frightened, and wished herself back in the
garden with the cold, proud Rose. She felt very lonely with
no one but the green Leaf to talk to. He was a kind, dear
fellow, and did the best he could for her, by keeping close to
her, and doing his utmost to shelter her in every way.

So she felt very grateful to him; and at last she thought she
would ask his advice.

“What is the meaning of all this?” she said; “and what
would you advise me to do, dear Leaf? Tell me all about my
mother and sisters; for the Rose said they had all been here in
the spring, and staid here a month. Why was I not allowed to
come with them ?” .

“‘ Yes, they certainly were all here in the spring,” answered
the Leaf; “and I was with them the whole time. You had ten
sisters, and all more beautiful than you. I cannot tell why you
were not allowed to come with them; but I remember your
mother saying that she had expected another daughter—that
must have been you. Your ten sisters were all out at once,
and very lovely they all looked; and we green Leaves came in
also for our share of admiration, I can assure you: in fact, it
was a family that your mother was very proud of, and a very

12
136 THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE.

happy life they all led together. But, you know, all bright
things must fade; and one by one they died—your mother first,
and then all your sisters. At first, we green Leaves felt very
solitary; but we got accustomed to be alone at last. I was
so much astonished this morning, when I saw you make your
appearance, that I could not find words to express myself.”

“Oh, dear Leaf,” answered the Primrose, “ what a pleasure it

is to have you near me: I do not feel so lonely now I have
heard all you tell me about my mother and sisters. This little
girl who brought me here is very kind too, and the water she
has given us is so cool and refreshing; and the cold wind is no
longer blowing round my poor head; and, altogether, I feel
quite happy with you, dear Leaf.”
. When evening came, Lulu went to say good-night to her dear
little flower; she looked so nice and fresh, cuddled up close to
the green Leaf, and her petals half folded. Lulu did not disturb
her, for she saw she was fast asleep; so she whispered good-night
very gently, and then tumbled itito her own little bed.

The next morning the Sun shone brilliantly, and she rushed
to the window, to tell him all about the Primrose, and to see
how the flower was looking. But she was not early enough, for
the Sun had been up two whole hours, and he and the Primrose
had enjoyed a long talk together already. Lulu thought her
flower seemed very bright and happy; but the Sun knew better,
and saw that the little favourite would not live more than
another ‘day, for she had already begun to fade. So the hours
THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE, 137

went on and on; and towards evening, the green Leaf perceived,
likewise, that the poor Primrose must soon follow her elder
sisters. He was very sorry, for he had begun to love the tender
thing; but Lulu was really quite unhappy about her friend; so
she ran and called her little baby brother Artbur, and they sat
together on the window-sill, and watched the fading Primrose.
By-and-by their mother came in, and she said it was quite
time for baby to go to bed; but Baby Arthur wanted to watch
the flower too; so then his mother said, that if he would lie
down in his bed, she would sing him a song; and this is the
song that the mother sang to her Darling :— =

How late we are, my Baby;
The Sun sinks ’neath the hill;
He kisses you, my Baby,
With kisses soft and still.

He bids you sleep, my Baby;
The flow’rs have sunk to rest;
The birds are sleeping, Baby,
Each in its tiny nest.

He’ll wake you early, Baby;
The birds and flow’rs as well;
They’ll sing and smile for Baby,
Whilst I their stories tell.

His golden beams are changing,
Around thy little head;

He crowns thee now with roses ;
The clouds are ruby red.
138 THE AUTUMN PRIMROSE.

“ Good-night,”” he whispers, Baby ;
So now lie down and sleep ;

And may the angels, Baby,

Watch o’er my Darling keep.

For angels love you, Baby,

More than e’en I—above,

Far more the Lord, that made them,
Whose glorious name is Love.

By the time his mother had sung this song, little Arthur was
fast asleep. Lulu said good-night to her dear Primrose, hoping
to see her again in the morning. But, alas! alas! when
morning came, and Lulu ran to see the pretty flower, it was
there indeed, folded tenderly in the arms of the green Leaf,

but—dead !












































































































































































































































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“1 AM SHE WHO HAS BEEN LYING FOR MANY YEARS ON A

BED OF SICKNESS.”
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL,

\ NE morning it happened to be very
\, cloudy and dull, and no Sun ap-

j peared. Naturally, this was a great

disappointment to the Darlings, as




they knew well—no Sun, no story.
One by one they kept running to the
window to see whether Mr. Sun was
coming out; but it was of no use. It
was quite late in the day—not, indeed,
till after dinner—that he made his appearance,
KS Then, also, he did not come out with his
usual brilliancy: he was rather pale and sad-
looking ; and when the Darlings pressed him to know what

was the matter, he said—

“T do feel a little sad this morning, I must confess, as ‘I
have lost two of my earth Darlings; and though I know it
is all the better for them, still I love every one of them. so
142 ; THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.

dearly, that I cannot spare one without being grieved. Now,
T will tell you about it, this morning, instead of a story.”

Very early indeed, as I was coming round the earth, and
just rising .on this side, I met a beautiful Angel with drooping
wings: on her arm she carried one of my little ones, and with
the other she was supporting a young girl; and they were all
on their way to the Golden City.

As soon as I saw them, I called to the Angel to stop, that
I might have one more look at them; but I do not think they —
‘either .of them wished to do so. Both the Darlings were so eager
to leave this earth; and, at the time, I felt a little sad in my
heart to think that, after all my care, they were glad to leave
me.

So I looked into the eyes of the little one in the Angel’s
arms, and I said— |

“To whom does he belong ?”

And the little one answered me himself, and said—

“Tam only an orphan baby; and no one cares for me on
‘earth. J have only lived there a little time; but it seemed
very long without love; and when this beantiful Angel came
to feteh.me, I knew that I should find father and mother, and
brothers and sisters in his land; and now I am never going to
leave them any more.”

After that, I could not grudge the orphan baby his mere
ness;-and I turned to the other child, and asked—

* Who is she?”
‘THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. 143

And the child lifted up her dark, weary eyes, and said—

“TY am she who has been lying for many years on a bed
of sickness; who has been cheered by the Sunbeams in the
morning; and has watched the red and golden Sunsets in the
evening, till they almost made me forget my pains. I have
left father and mother, and brother and sisters, and many kind
friends behind me; but they will not sorrow. Last night I
kissed them all, and told them that God’s Angel was coming to
fetch me home; and they shed tears of peace and happiness
when they knew I was at rest.”

Then I also felt that it was gain and joy to them to leave
this earth of mine, and go to live in a far brighter world,
where there are countless Suns more brilliant than Iam; Suns
that rise to set no more; and where the poor little orphan baby
would be loved and cherished. So I folded them both in my
arms once more—the baby and the older child; and then I
stood still, and watched them. soaring with the Angel into
infinite realms of space and light. . I watched and waited till
the last flutter of the Angel’s. wing had vanished, hoping
that one of my Darlings. might. cast a fond look back at

: but no; their. eyes..were - fixed with longing on the
ean tial heavens; and they could not spare time for even
one brief glance at him who had been their greatest a
friend. cre
No wonder, then, that I was sad.. I stayed no longer ; but
began my duties with a heavy heart, covering my face with a
144 THE. GUARDIAN ANGEL.

cloud, that I might weep unseen. By-and-by I was com-
forted by remembering there were many still left behind, and
that it was selfish to remain hidden when my presence’ could
benefit others; so I chased away the cloud, and here I am—
very late in the day, I must confess, but ready to do all that
the little folks wish.

. “Well, Mr. Sun,” said a rosy-cheeked girl, “we were very
sorry to miss you this morning, and we have been wondering
where you were; but you have told us such a pretty story—
such a real, true story, though a short one—that we will not
have any more to-day. But oh, dear Sun, if, another time,
when you meet an Angel with white wings, you would wake us
up, and let us see her too, we should be so pleased: we all long
to see an Angel.”

“Oh, do, do, do, dear Sun,” cried a number of voices.,

“Your little earthly eyes are not strong enough, my pets.
They would be dazzled and blinded; such sights are not fitted
for you yet. Some day you will all behold the face of your
Father which is in heaven, surrounded by myriads of these
beautiful creatures; and then you will no longer wish to come
back here. But come, I must not have such grave faces:
children should laugh, and dance, and sing; and if the poor
old Sun. is a trifle sad to-day, he cannot help it; so he had
better say good-night, sae to-morrow morning he will rise as
bright and glorious as ever.’

. “Good-night, dear Sun,” cried the Darlings; “we are so
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. 145

sorry you are going; and will you bring us a story to-
morrow ?”

“Such a beautiful story,” he replied. “Shall it be a true
fairy tale ?” ,

“OQ yes; a real, true fairy tale,” they shouted with
delight.


















PARTING WOROS.

\ai/ T was the last evening that the Darlings
" were to spend at the sea-side; and I
think that the Sun shone in through
the bay windows with greater beauty,
and with a softer and more subdued light
than hitherto, as if he knew it was the
last evening, and was anxious to show
piel off to the best advantage.

“Oh! Mr. Sun,” said the big, boisterous
boy Darling, “we are so sorry, we are going




to leave you.”

“Oh, yes! so very sorry,” echoed all the
others.

“ Me solly too,” chimed in the baby Darling, whose grammar
and articulation were alike indifferent.

“You cannot be more sorry to go than I am to lose you, my
PARTING WORDS. 147

Darlings,” replied Mr. Sun: “I should like to make you alla
great many very pretty presents; but you know that is im-
possible. I can, however, give you good advice, which (if you
listen to it) will be of more use to you through life, and worth
far more, than all the gold and silver in the world.”

And these are the kind words of good advice that the oun
gave to the Darlings, as he sank beneath the sea.

“You are sorry you are going away, little ones, because it
seems as if, in the place to which you are going, it will not be
your old friend, Mr. Sun, who will shine on you, but. some
stranger to whose voice you are not accustomed. :

“Tt is not so, my Darlings. The same Sun that kisses each
one of you now, and says ‘ Good-bye,’ will shine on you in your
new home, though he may not always have stories to tell you.

“There will be times, also, when thick clouds and mist
prevent you from seeing me: try, when this is so, to think
that I am still there, still shining in the big blue sky, beyond
the clouds; and that soon you will be able to see me again.

“T will try to shine, nut only in your faces, but in your
hearts, through life, my pets; that when the clouds and mist
of sorrow and suffering hang heavy over you, you may
remember that, if only you wait patiently, the sunshine must
come at last.

“My time is getting short; and I am not allowed to delay
my journey. Before I go, I want you all to promise me to
keep ever in your minds the. few words I am .about to repeat
148 PARTING WORDS.

to you—not for my sake, or in return for my stories, but for
the sake of One, whose servant I am, and who loves you far,
far better than I ever can :—

“<<* Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one
another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”

“Oh! yes, Mr. Sun, we will remember, we promise you,”
cried all the little voices.

“Me pobby you too,” shouted the baby Darling.

* * * * * * *

And the Sun set in his ocean bed.



KE. BRAIN AND CO., PRINTERS, 26, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON,



























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