XI.
_GOOD SEED._
“MY OWN DEAR SOLGER,--I do want to see you so much I don’t kno wat to do and Ant May too and May Bessie. I did not see you ever so long and it is such a grate wile I miss you so. But Mamma says some day we will go to your house in that place where you live and I will be so glad and my Maggie too. They are indians in Nigra Falls and they have pretty things and we bort some for all our peple and a baskit for Ant May and a rattel for May Bessie and something for you that is a secret. Plese dont tell them so they will be surprised and Nigra Falls is so fast you cant think. I never saw such fast water and it makes such a noise but not so nice as the sea and I like it best when we go on the ilans or up the river where it is not so much noise or such hie water to fall over. Some ilans are named the three sisters and we call one Maggie and one Bessie and one Annie don’t you think that is nice. I want to see Belle so much. Belle loves me and I love Belle and Maggie does too and I love her more that her mama went away to Jesus and she wants her but I know she loves her yet and is glad when she is good. And Belle is sweet. Don’t you love Belle? I send you forty nine kisses and I love you dear Uncle Horace from your pet
“BESSIE.”
It would be hard to tell who took the most pleasure in these lettersfrom our little travellers,--those who wrote them, or those whoreceived them. One thing is certain,--that they were all carefullykept and laid away, and some time, when they are older, Maggie andBessie may find some amusement in looking over these records of theirchildish days. Many a pleasant scene and circumstance will they bringback to them, and some not so bright perhaps; for the little ones havetheir trials, as we know, and do not, I fear, forget as readily aswe grown people would believe. It is strange we do not see that too;looking back, as we often do, with a sort of tender pity for our ownformer grieved and mortified _little_ selves, and remembering withsuch distinctness the sharp or quick word of reproof, the thoughtlessteasing, or the loud, sudden laugh at some innocent speech or action.
Little did Bessie think when she wrote that last letter, how soon herwishes to see her dear friends were to be gratified.
It had been intended to take the steamer down Lake Ontario and the St.Lawrence to Montreal: but on the day before that on which our friendswere to leave Niagara, there was a severe storm which tossed androughened the waters of the great lake; and fearing that Maggie mighthave an attack of the old enemy she so dreaded, and knowing that freshwater seasickness is even worse than that which comes from the saltwater, the elders of the party decided not to take the boat down thelake.
They therefore went by the cars to Kingston, in Canada, and, afterpassing a day there, took the boat down the river St. Lawrence; forhere Maggie had nothing to fear from her foe. There was no part oftheir long journey which the children enjoyed more than their passagedown this beautiful river, so different from any thing they had yetseen. The Lake of the Thousand Isles, as the entrance to the St.Lawrence is called, full of little islets up to the number that isnamed, a thousand: some larger, and covered with graceful, featherytrees; some so small as scarce to afford room for some solitary tree orbush; clustering together so as scarce to leave room for the steamer topass, then again separating, with a broad, clear sheet of water betweenthem.
Here something occurred which greatly interested not only the children,but also the grown people on board. As the steamer was slowly makingher way between two small islands, the passengers saw a very excitingchase before them. A fine stag was swimming across the river, pursuedby dogs and two boats with men in them. The poor beast was trying withall his strength to escape from his cruel enemies, and the sympathiesof all the passengers were with him. The men in the boats had no guns,but a net, which they were trying to throw over his head; but eachtime they neared him, he shot forward beyond their reach. Maggie andBessie were in a state of the wildest excitement, as they watched theinnocent and beautiful creature panting with terror and fatigue; andtheir elders were hardly less so. Bessie held fast her father’s hand,gazing with eager eyes and parted lips, her color coming and going, herlittle frame trembling with distress and indignation; and Maggie seizedupon Uncle Ruthven and danced up and down in frantic suspense and alarmat the danger of the poor beast. His courage seemed giving out, andhis pursuers cheered in triumph; when, summoning up all his strength,he suddenly turned, and, passing almost under the bow of the steamer,made for the opposite and nearer shore, thus gaining upon his enemiesas they took time to turn their boats; and cleaving the water, almostlike lightning, he reached the thickly wooded bank, bounded up, andwas lost to sight among the forest trees, and beyond the reach of hiswould-be destroyers. A cheer burst from those on board, as the noblecreature disappeared in safety,--a cheer in which Maggie joined withall her heart, “for I couldn’t help it, and most forgot it was rathertomboyish,” she afterwards said. But no one found fault with her:indeed no one could. As for Bessie, she fairly cried, but it was onlywith pleasure and the feeling of relief.
Later in the day, they were greatly interested in seeing the shootingof the Rapids, as the passage of the steamer over the foaming waters iscalled. It was a curious sight. The water foamed and bubbled aroundthe steamer, seeming as though it were eager to draw it down; but thevessel glided on, rose a little to the billows, plunged, rose again,and was once more in smooth waters. There were several of these rapidsto be passed; and, although our little girls had been rather frightenedat the first, they soon became accustomed to it, and enjoyed the swiftdescent. The crew of the steamer were all Canadians; and, as they cameto each rapid, they struck up some cheery boat-song, which rose sweetand clear above the roar of the waves, and put heart and courage intothe more timid ones among the passengers.
They soon reached Montreal, where they spent a week; and here again theopportunity to do a kind act, and leave a blessing behind them, came inthe way of our little sisters.
They were one day passing through the long upper hall of the hotel atwhich they stayed, when they met the chamber-maid who waited on theirrooms, crying bitterly. The girl, who was quite young, had her apronthrown over her head, and seemed in great distress.
“What is the matter, Matilda?” asked nurse, who was with the children.
“I’ve lost my place,” sobbed Matilda; “and I’ve my mother and my twolittle brothers to take care of. Oh! whatever will I do?”
“Why are you turned away?” asked nurse, who thought the girl attendedto her duties very well, and was civil and obliging.
Then Matilda took down her apron, showing her face all streaked withtears, and told her story.
She had, it appeared, been unfortunate,--perhaps rather careless,--andhad broken one or two articles, the loss of which had greatly vexed thehouse-keeper, who had told her she should leave her place the next timeshe broke any thing. This had made her more careful; but that morningan accident had occurred which might have happened to any one. Turningthe corner of a corridor, with a pitcher full of water in her hand,some one had run against her, the pitcher was knocked from her hold,and broken into a hundred pieces. The house-keeper would hear of noexcuse, and bade her leave the house at once, or pay for the pitcher.
“And I haven’t a penny,” said the girl; “for I sent all my wages to mymother yesterday to pay her rent, and there’s nothing for it but I mustgo. And what is to become of us all, if I don’t get another place rightaway?”
Nurse tried to comfort her, by saying she would soon find anothersituation; but Matilda replied that was not so easy, and she fearedthey would all suffer before she found it; and went away, still cryingbitterly. Maggie and Bessie were very sorry for her.
“I wonder if we haven’t money enough to pay for the pitcher, Bessie,”said Maggie. “If we had, then maybe the house-keeper would let herstay; and if she won’t we could give Matilda the money to keep hermother and brothers from starving.”
“Yes, that’s a good thought of you, Magg
ie,” said Bessie; “and there’sthe house-keeper now. Let’s run and ask her quick: may we, nursey?”
Nurse gave permission, though she did not think the children would besuccessful in their errand of kindness; and said low, either to herselfor baby, whom she carried in her arms,--
“Eh! the little dears will do naught with her. She’s a cross-grainedcreature, that house-keeper, and as short in her way as asnapping-turtle.”
Maggie’s courage began to fail her when she and Bessie ran up to thehouse-keeper, and heard the severe tone in which she was speaking toanother servant. It was true that her manner and speech were apt to berather harsh and short in dealing with those about her, especially tothe girls who were under her orders; but it must be said in her excusethat she led rather a trying life, and had a good deal to vex andtrouble her.
Maggie and Bessie stood waiting behind the house-keeper’s stout figure,till she had, as Maggie afterwards said, “finished up her scoldings,”when Bessie said rather timidly:--
“Mrs. Housekeeper?”
“Well, what’s wanted now?” asked the woman, turning sharply round; but,when she saw who was speaking to her, her face softened and her mannerchanged.
Now the worst of all this poor woman’s troubles was the long tedioussickness of her only child, a little girl about Bessie’s age, butnot bright and happy, and able to run about and play like our little“princess.” This poor child had been ailing for more than six months,sometimes suffering a great deal, and always very weak; and her motherhad not much time to give to her, since she was obliged to attend toher duties about the hotel of which she had charge.
When the child was well enough, she was put into a perambulator andtaken out for fresh air; and she had just returned from one of theserides on the day before this, as Maggie and Bessie came in from adrive with the elders of their party. They had been to visit an Indianencampment just outside the city, and returned laden with all mannerof pretty trifles purchased for the dear ones at home, and some forthemselves.
They had each of them also a handful of flowers given to them by somefriend; and, as they passed the sick child lying in her wagon, andturned towards her with a look of sympathy, Bessie saw her eyes fixedlongingly on the sweet blossoms she held.
She stopped and turning to Maggie said,--
“I think I’ll give my flowers to that sick child, she looks as if she’dlike them,” and then going to the child she put the flowers in herhand, and said, “Here are some flowers for you, and I am sorry you aresick.”
“And here’s a basket for you,” said Maggie, coming forward with heroffering too; and she gave a pretty little basket, the work of theIndians, which she had bought for her own use: “you can put Bessie’sflowers in it, and it will look lovely. See, let me fix them for you,”and in two minutes her skilful little fingers had arranged the flowersmost tastefully, greatly to the child’s delight.
“And am I to keep the basket?” asked the sick child.
“Oh, yes! for ever and ever if you like,” said Maggie; “and when theflowers are faded you can take them out and put some more in.”
“I don’t often have flowers,” said the child; “but I love them so: onlyI don’t like to take all yours,” she added, looking at Bessie.
“Oh! she is going to have half mine,” said Maggie; “you needn’t betroubled about that. Good-by now,” and she and Bessie ran after theirparents, leaving the sick child brightened and happy.
Bessie’s Travels. p. 268.]
Her mother had been standing near enough to hear and see all that hadpassed; and so you will not wonder that now, when she turned and sawMaggie and Bessie, her harsh look and tone became gentle and pleasant.
“Oh! it’s you, you little dears,” she said. “Now, is there ever a thingI can do for you?”
“Yes,” said Bessie. “We are so sorry for Matilda, and we wanted to knowif you would let us pay for the pitcher she broke if we have moneyenough, and try her just once more?”
“I like to please you,” said the woman; “but Matilda is so careless Icannot put up with her.”
“But it really wasn’t her fault this time,” pleaded Bessie; “she saysa man ran against her, and knocked it out of her hand when she wascarrying it so carefully.”
“And we’ll pay for it if we have enough,” said Maggie.
“And her mother is sick,” said Bessie; “and you know we ought to besorry and kind to sick people; and you know, too, we ought to forgiveas we want to be forgiven. Couldn’t you do it for the sick mother’ssake? And maybe this will be a good lesson to Matilda.”
“I’ll keep her for your sake, and strive to be more patient with hertoo,” said the house-keeper; “and I think you’ll never lack for comfortand kindness when you’re sick yourselves: at least, not if the Lordrepays what’s done for Him, as the good book says He does.”
“And how much must we pay for the pitcher?” asked Bessie.
“Not a penny. I don’t know as Matilda was to blame this time, and Ididn’t listen to her story as I should, I own; but I’ve been so putabout this morning. You go your ways, you little dears; and Matildashall stay for your good word.”
Now the children did not know it, but probably the good word of thetwo little strangers would have gone but little way with the angryhouse-keeper, had it not been for the kindness done to her sick childthe day before; but so it was, and so the one good thing sprang fromthe other.
They left Montreal the next morning, and then came two long days ofrailway travelling, ending in Boston. Here they stayed only a fewhours, and then started afresh about six o’clock in the evening, bound“for Narragansett Bay,” papa said, when he was asked where they werenow going. Bessie was so thoroughly tired that she was soon glad tonestle her head against her father and go to sleep: a very comfortablesleep it was too, from which she did not wake even when she was carriedfrom the cars to a carriage, and from the carriage into a certainhouse. Maggie, too, after refusing similar accommodation from UncleRuthven, and holding herself very upright, and stretching her eyes verywide open, at last gave in, and accepted the repeated offer of his armas a pillow.
But they both roused up at last when they were brought into that house.Where were they now? and whose voices were those, so familiar and sodear, but not heard for many weeks?
Maggie opened her eyes with a start, wide-awake on the instant, and,immediately understanding all, gave a shriek of delight, sprang off thesofa where Uncle Ruthven had placed her, and was fast about Mrs. Rush’sneck, exclaiming,--
“It’s Newport! it is Newport! and this is Aunt May’s house, and papahas surprised us. Oh! lovely, lovely! Bessie! Bessie! wake up, and hearthe good news.”
Bessie slowly opened her eyes at the call, not yet understanding; butas she saw the face that was bending over her, and knew that here washer “own dear solger,” whom she had so longed to see, she gave a longsigh of intense satisfaction, and, after her usual manner when herheart was full of love and tenderness, let two words speak for her,--
“Uncle Horace.”
There was no surprise in the tone, only unspeakable pleasure andaffection; and she laid her head against his shoulder with anexpression of utter content.
“This is the very best thing in all our travels,” said Maggie. “Whereis May Bessie, Aunt May?”
“Fast asleep in her cradle, and I can’t let you peep at her to-night,”said Mrs. Rush. “We’ll keep that for the morning.”
Mamma said all other pleasures must be kept for the morning, save thatof following May Bessie’s example; and Bessie, who could scarcely keepher eyes open, even for the purpose of looking at her beloved ColonelRush, was quite ready to obey; but Maggie thought she had had sleepenough for one night, and would like at once to make acquaintance withall her new surroundings.
“But we are all going to rest, for it is nearly midnight,” said thecolonel; which caused Maggie to change her mind, as she had no fancyfor staying up alone; and she was now eager to go to sleep at once,so that “morning m
ight come before she knew it,” and she went offsaying,--
“I never saw children who had such heaps and heaps of happiness as wedo. I don’t know how I’m ever going to make up enough gratitude for it.”
Perhaps her gratitude to the kind hand which showered so much happinessupon her was best shown in the sunny spirit with which she took bothtrials and blessings, and in her readiness to share the latter with allwhom she met.