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BESSIE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS
THE BESSIE BOOKS.
I. BESSIE AT THE SEASIDE. 16mo $1.25 II. BESSIE IN THE CITY. 16mo 1.25III. BESSIE AND HER FRIENDS. 16mo 1.25 IV. BESSIE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 16mo 1.25
"Bessie is a very charming specimen of little girlhood. It is a lovely story of home and nursery life among a family of bright, merry, little children."--_Presbyterian._
"A lively entertaining series, which picture child-life to perfection."--_Standard._
"We owe to the authoress perhaps the most delightful conception of child-character, under Gospel influences, in all modern juvenile literature."--_American Presbyter._
"The author evidently understands how to write of and for children. There is a simplicity and naturalness of style and incident and religion, of the most attractive and healthful kind."--_Christian Instructor._
Bessie among the Mountains. FRONTISPIECE.]
BESSIE
AMONG
THE MOUNTAINS.
BY
JOANNA H. MATHEWS,
AUTHOR OF "BESSIE AT THE SEASIDE," "BESSIE IN THE CITY," AND"BESSIE AND HER FRIENDS."
"Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
530, BROADWAY.
1872.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States forthe Southern District of New York.
CAMBRIDGE:PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
TO
RICHARD HOWLAND HUNT,
The Dear Little Boy,
WHO "NEARLY KNOWS HOW TO READ, AND THINKS COUSIN JOSIE'S STORIES HAVENOT A BIT OF STUPIDNESS IN THEM."
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE.
I. UP THE MOUNTAIN 9
II. THE SQUIRRELS AND THE ICE GLEN 33
III. A VISIT TO AUNT PATTY 55
IV. LEM AND DOLLY 74
V. THE GARDENS 98
VI. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL 113
VII. THE SILVER CUP 128
VIII. A KIND WORD FOR LEM 147
IX. DOL'S REVENGE 163
X. THE BANANAS 183
XI. "GOOD FOR EVIL" 203
XII. UNCLE RUTHVEN'S WORK 220
XIII. A RIDE ON THE SHEAVES 236
XIV. BLACKBERRYING 255
XV. A FRIEND IN NEED 276
XVI. LEM'S SORROW 299
XVII. DOLLY GOES HOME 317
XVIII. GOOD-BY TO CHALECOO 336
(decorative)]
BESSIE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
I.
_UP THE MOUNTAIN._
UP, up! What a height it was, and how the horses toiled as theydrew the heavy wagons up the mountain side. Whenever they came toa very steep place, the boys and all the gentlemen, except ColonelRush, would jump out and walk, so as to lighten the load. Aunt Annieand Aunt Bessie, who was really Aunt Bessie now, for she was UncleRuthven's wife, also tried this; but they soon tired, and were glad totake their seats in the wagon again.
Maggie thought she must take her turn too, and asked papa to lift herout. Papa consented, warning her, however, that she would find itharder work than she imagined to clamber up these steep ascents on herown two small feet. But Maggie thought she would like to be "a reliefto the horses," so papa took her out.
Then Bessie's sweet little voice piped up from the snug corner, whereshe sat nestled between Colonel Rush and his wife.
"Mamma, bettn't I walk a little too, on 'count of the poor horses?"
At which Mr. Porter who walked beside the wagon, holding the reins,and now and then chirruping to the willing creatures who needed nowhip or harsh command, turned his head towards the tiny figure with amerry twinkle in his eye.
"I think not, darling," said mamma; "by the time we are at the LakeHouse you will be more than tired enough with this long day's journey."
"I do not wish to walk, mamma," said Bessie, "only for the horses."
"The horses don't make much account of your weight, I reckon," saidMr. Porter, good-naturedly, "and though this seems mighty hard workto you, they are used to it, and don't mind it so much. Besides, theyknow that every pitch takes them nearer to their stable, where they'llhave a good rest and a feed of oats. They'd rather go up than down anyday."
"How do they know it?" asked Bessie, who had already made friends withMr. Porter.
"Well," said Mr. Porter, taking off his hat and fanning himself withit, "I can't just say how; certain it is they do know it."
"Maybe it's their instinct," said Bessie.
"That's about it," he answered, with a smile.
"These are fine teams of yours, Mr. Porter," said Colonel Rush.
"You may say that, sir," answered the old man, looking with pride atthe noble beasts, "and this is the best of the lot. These are Vermonthorses, sure-footed as goats, as they need to be on these mountainroads; strong as elephants, and wiser than many a creature that goeson two feet. Why, I could tell you stories of this fellow," and henodded towards the horse nearest him, "that maybe you'll find it hardto believe. I named him 'Solomon,' thinking it suitable; but the boysthey shortened it to 'Sol,' and that's what he goes by. I tell you, heknows a thing or two, that horse."
Mr. Porter paused for breath, and Bessie, after waiting a moment ortwo in hopes of the stories of old Sol, said,--
"We'll believe you, Mr. Porter, if you tell us those stories."
"So I will," he answered, "but not now. It takes the breath out of aman trudging up these hills, and I can't tell you long stories now.But you come into the kitchen some evening, and I'll tell you a bushelfull."
Maggie had found that "trudging up the hills" took the breath out ofa little girl, and papa's words soon proved themselves true; but sheplodded along perseveringly, flushed and panting, holding to papa'shand, and happy in her belief that she was sparing the horses by herown exertions.
And now they came to a level spot where all might rest. A beautifulresting place it was, a perfect bower of the wild clematis, rock ivyand briar rose, the latter now in full flower. The long, slendersprays flung themselves from tree to tree, or ran climbing over therocks, while the delicate pink blossoms hung, many of them, withinthe children's reach. Uncle Ruthven's warning checked Maggie's tooeager fingers until he could cut them carefully with his knife, andplace them in her hands stripped of their sharp little thorns. Maggiethanked him for his thoughtful kindness when she saw the misfortunewhich had happened to Hafed; for the little Persian, always anxious toplease his "Missys," had grasped too heedlessly the tempting branches,and was now wringing his fingers as he danced about, half laughing,half crying, and saying,--
"Prettys no good, no good."
Maggie and Bessie were quite distressed for him, until his master,having taken out the thorns, bade him wash his bleeding fingers inthe brook which ran by the roadside. Bessie had been taken from thewagon that she might rest herself by running about a little after herlong ride, and now she and Maggie, as well
as Hafed, forgot pricksand scratches in the pleasure of watching the brook, and feelingits cool, clear waters trickle through their fingers. What a noisy,merry, frolicksome stream this was, gurgling and splashing, rushingand tumbling in its rocky bed; now leaping gracefully in a miniaturewaterfall over some narrow ledge, now rippling and singing about theroots of the trees and over the pebbles that lay in its course, nowflashing in the sunlight, and now hiding in a crevice of the rocks asif it were playing at Bopeep.
"What a fuss it makes about nothing," said Harry, as he dipped hisfingers into the water, and carried some of the clear, sparklingdrops to his lips, "One would think it was doing a wonderful lot ofwork."
"So it does," said Maggie, following her brother's example.
"What work does it do?" asked Harry, always ready to listen to any ofMaggie's new ideas.
"Sometimes it gives a thirsty boy a drink, and he is very ungrateful,and says it makes a fuss about nothing," said Maggie, mischievously.
Harry playfully sprinkled her with the drops which hung from hisfingers. "And what else?"
"It waters the flowers and mosses and trees," said Maggie; "and thebirds and squirrels can come and take a drink too, if they like."
"And it makes a pretty waterfall for us to see, and a nice, pleasantnoise for us to listen to," said Bessie.
"All that is no better than play," said Harry.
"And it helps to make the sea," said Bessie. "Mamma said so."
"Ho!" said Fred; "much this little brook does towards filling the sea,Queen Bess."
"But _it helps_, and does all it can, Fred."
"Yes," said Maggie; "one little brook runs on until it finds anotherlittle brook, and then they join, and run on together, and then theymeet another and another till they all make a small river, and thatjoins other little rivers and brooks, till there is a very large onelike that we sailed on this morning, and that runs into the great,great sea that we used to see at Quam Beach last summer."
"Hallo, Midge!" said Fred; "where did you find out so much?"
"It's not my own finding out," said Maggie; "the other day mygeography lesson was about rivers, and mamma told me all that, andBessie heard too; so when we first saw this brook farther down themountain, we remembered what mamma said, and Aunt May said a very nicething."
"What was it?" asked Harry.
"She said little children might be like the brooks and springs. Notone could do a great deal by himself, but every little helped in thework God gave his creatures to do for him, just as every brook helpedto fill the great sea to which it ran; and if we were good and sweet,it made everything bright and pleasant about us, just like a clear andrunning stream. But cross and naughty children were like the muddybrooks and dull pools, which no one could drink, or make of any use. Ihope I won't be like an ugly, muddy pool that does no good to any one,but just stands still, and looks disagreeable all the day long, andhas toads and things in it."
The boys laughed at the ending of Maggie's speech, so like herself,and Uncle Ruthven as he dipped a drinking cup into the flashingstream, said,--
"I do not think we need fear that, little Maggie."
"No," said Harry; "there is rather too much sunshine and sparkleabout Maggie to think that she would become a stagnant pool, full ofugly tempers and hateful faults, like 'toads and things.'"
"Yes," laughed Fred, "and she could not stand still with nothing todo; could you, Midget Fidget?"
Maggie was in too sunny a humor to be teased by anything Fred couldsay, though she did not like the name he called her, and she answeredwith good temper,--
"No, indeed, I could not, Fred; but if I am naughty I suppose I donot run just the way I ought to, and perhaps I grow a little muddysometimes."
"It don't last long then, I'll say that for you," answered Fred,touched by his little sister's sweet-tempered honesty.
"No, it does not," said Bessie, who had been listening to the lastfew sentences with a sober face, "and my own little brook Maggie isthe best and brightest brook of all the family. No, thank you, UncleRuthven," as her uncle offered her a drink from his cup; "the watertastes better this way;" and she dipped her tiny hand again in thestream.
"But it would take you till sundown to satisfy your thirst out of thatmake-believe hand, Princess," said Mr. Stanton, "and Mr. Porter isready for a fresh start."
So Bessie took a drink from her uncle's cup, and the other childrenwere glad to do the same, since they were now forced to leave thispleasant spot.
Mamma said she thought Maggie had walked far enough, so she once moretook her seat in the wagon, and as Mr. Porter said they had passed thesteepest part of the ascent, the gentlemen and boys all did the same.The scene did not grow less beautiful as they went on upward. Theycould see to a great distance, and the view was very lovely. Behindand below them lay hills and forests, with here and there a break orclearing where some cozy home farm nestled, with the smoke from itschimney curling lazily up into the quiet summer air. Still fartherdown, the valleys with their glistening ponds and streams, and thevillages clustering here and there, their houses and churches lookingfrom this height almost as small as toys; while far in the distance,flashing in the sunlight, rolled the noble river up whose waters theyhad come that morning.
Around them and above them lay great swells of land, over which theyhad yet to pass, rising one above another till they were crowned withthe lofty summit of the mountain. Here stood out sharply against thesky a gray, bare mass of rock, with a tuft of pine-trees growing onthe very top. By some people this was called "The Point," by others,"The Chief's Head," because they fancied it looked like an Indian'shead wearing a plume of feathers. It could be seen for many miles, andlong before our party began to ascend the mountain, Mr. Bradford hadpointed it out to the children. The boys at once imagined they saw theIndian's head plainly. Maggie sometimes thought she did, sometimesthought she did not, and was very eager about it; but now as the roadtook a sudden bend, bringing the great rock into nearer view, shedeclared the likeness was to be seen distinctly, nose, mouth, chin andall.
Bessie could not see any resemblance, and since Maggie could, wasrather distressed; but mamma and the Colonel consoled her by sayingthat they, like herself, could see nothing but a huge, gray stone,crowned by a few lonely-looking trees.
"There's more fancy than anything else about it, I believe myself,"said Mr. Porter; "if it was not for the old story probably no onewould see any resemblance."
"What story?" asked Harry, eagerly.
"Why," answered Mr. Porter, "it is said that a tribe of Indians oncelived among these valleys and mountains, whose chief died. He lefttwin sons, both famous warriors, and it was doubtful which would bechosen by the tribe to be their chief or king in the father's place.One of the brothers was very anxious for this honor. He was a proudand selfish man, who seemed to care for no one in the world but hisbeautiful young wife, whom he dearly loved. His brother was more of afavorite with the people, and he feared that their choice would fallupon him, so he determined to kill him that he might be out of his way.
"The brother was fond of climbing to the mountain top, and sittingthere to look out over the broad lands which had belonged to hisfathers for so many years. One night when the wicked chief wasreturning from the hunt, he saw, as he thought, in the dim moonlight,his brother sitting in his usual place. This was very near the edge ofthe rock, where a slight push might throw him over, and it came intothe bad man's heart to climb up softly behind him, and, with a suddenshove, to send him down upon the rocks below. He gave himself notime to think, and in a few moments he had reached the quiet figurewhich was half concealed by a clump of trees, and, with a push of hispowerful hand, sent it whirling over into the valley below."
"Oh, the bad, bad man!" said Bessie. "He was just like a Cain, and hispoor brother who never did him any harm! I think that is a bad story."
"Probably it's not true, but just a fable," said Mr. Porter.
"Then they oughtn't to say it about the poor Indian," said Bessie,indigna
ntly. "If he didn't do it, they ought not to make it up abouthim."
"And likely enough the man himself never lived," said Mr. Porter.
"Then they oughtn't to say he did," persisted Bessie; "And to makehim so wicked too. There's enough of bad people without making up anymore."
"Well, what was the end of it?" asked Fred.
"Just as the poor lost one went over the edge, a scream rang out onthe night air, and the Indian knew it was the voice of his belovedwife whom he had thus sent to her death. The story goes on to saythat he was so stricken with horror and grief when he found what hehad done, that he wished the earth might open and swallow him, whichit did, all but his head, which was turned into stone, and so hasremained to speak of the punishment of his wicked deed."
"That tribe of Indians must have been giants then," said Harry,laughing as he looked up at the enormous mass of stone.
"Now I know that story never was," said Bessie. "People don't beturned into stone because they are bad, and nobody ever had such a bighead, and people ought not to say it."
Bessie had heard many a fairy tale, many a fable, and had neverobjected to them, though she always preferred to listen to storieswhich were, or might be, true; but somehow, no one could tell why,this fancy about the rock seemed to shock her sense of truth, andfrom this time she could never be persuaded to call it the "Chief'sHead." Her mother also noticed that when she was out of doors, shealways sat or stood with her back towards it if she could possibly doso.
But they were by no means to mount so far as this before they came totheir resting-place. Chalecoo Lake lay a good way below the "Point,"nestled in a beautiful basin among the hills, and here the road ended.Those who wished to go higher must do so by a rough mountain pathwhich led to the very summit.
The children were delighted to see what a quantity of birds andsquirrels there appeared to be in the woods. The former were hoppingabout all over the trees, singing among the branches, and seemingscarcely disturbed by the approach of the wagons.
As for the squirrels, they were as saucy as possible, waiting andwatching with their sharp, bright eyes till the travellers were closeupon them, then gliding ahead to a short distance and looking back,or perhaps leaping from one to another of the old fallen trunks whichlay by the roadside almost within arm's length.
Once as the party, who were all growing somewhat tired, were ratherquiet, they suddenly heard a long, loud chirrup; and looking roundto the side whence the noise came, there, upon a heap of stones, sata large gray squirrel, with his tail curled gracefully over his backlike a plume, and seeming to call attention to himself by his song.Not in the least alarmed by the eager delight of the children, or thewhistling and shouts of the boys, he sat still till all the wagons hadpassed, when he darted ahead of the foremost one, and seating himselfthis time on an old rail fence, began his pretty call again, and tooka second close look at our friends. This he did five or six times insuccession, to the great amusement and satisfaction of the littleones, who were beginning to hope he would go with them all the wayto the house, when with a pert, defiant whisk of his bushy tail, heleaped down the bank, and was lost to sight in the thick trees of theravine.
At another time a rabbit ran across the road, but he was by no meansso sociable as Bunny, and scampered away as if his life depended onhiding himself among the bushes as fast as possible.
"You wait till to-morrow morning," said Mr. Porter, as Bessie said howsorry she was that the squirrel had not kept on with them; "You waittill to-morrow morning and you'll see squirrels enough for the asking.Tame as your little dog there, they are too."
"Oh, Mr. Porter!" said Bessie, "do you shut the poor little squirrelsup in a cage?"
"Not I," answered Mr. Porter. "I would not allow it on any account,and never did. You'll see how my boy Bob manages them."
And now they came to the lake itself. What a wild, curious place itwas, such as none of the children had ever seen, not even Harry,who was considered by his brothers and sisters quite a travelledyoung gentleman, because he had at one time gone with his father toWashington, and at another to Niagara.
Great masses and blocks of granite lay piled one above another roundthree sides of the lake, here and there poised in such a manner thatmany of them looked as if the slightest touch must send them headlonginto the waters below. And yet thus they had remained for hundreds,perhaps thousands of years, held firmly by the Almighty Hand which hadgiven to each its place. Mosses and lichens, of all shades of gray,green and brown, covered their weather-beaten sides, while their topswere crowned with oaks, maples, pines and firs.
Around the southern side, and close to the mountain, which here rosestill farther up, up, steep and rugged, to the Point, or Indian'sHead, wound the road; and a dangerous road it looked, with the deepwaters of the lake on one side, the rough mountain on the other wherethe huge boulders overhung the travellers as they passed on. But withsure-footed, steady horses, and a careful driver, Mr. Bradford saidthere was no danger, for the road was good and strong, "built upon arock," and kept in capital order by Mr. Porter and his industrioussons. Still, more than one of the ladies drew a breath of relief whenit was safely passed.
Away at the eastern end, where there was a break in the rock, and alittle back from the lake, stood Mr. Porter's house, a long, low,pleasant-looking building, painted white, with green blinds, widepiazzas, and magnificent shade trees. Garden, orchard and fields laybehind on the slope of the hill where it fell gently away to thevalley below, and the whole place told of order and industry, showingin beautiful contrast to the wild grandeur of the other sides of thelake.
So here Maggie and Bessie were at last, at the long-talked-of ChalecooLake; and glad enough they, as well as the rest of the party, were tobe at their journey's end, pleasant though it had been. Ten hours ofsteady travelling was tiresome work for little people.
In the wide-open doorway stood Mrs. Porter, waiting to welcome them.
"What a jolly-looking old lady!" exclaimed Fred. "I shall like her, Iknow. She looks as if she belonged to this dear old place."
"That's so," said Mr. Porter, putting his head on one side, and gazingadmiringly at his wife; "She's as jolly as she looks, and as good asshe's jolly. My! but she'll spoil your children, Mrs. Bradford."
Mrs. Bradford smiled, and did not look as if she thought the"spoiling" would hurt her children very much; and now, with a loud"whoa," Mr. Porter drew in his horses, and his wife with her twodaughters came down to help unload.
"You see I have brought you a large family, Mrs. Porter," said Mrs.Bradford, "but you have room for all, I believe?"
"Yes, and heart room too," was the answer, as the old lady took babyfrom her nurse, and covered her with kisses. Miss Baby looked for amoment as if she had half a mind to resent this liberty, but thoughtbetter of it, and presently was crowing and smiling in the kind oldface, which looked so pleasantly at her. Indeed, not one of thechildren could resist the cheery, coaxing voice and tender manner; andin five minutes they were all crowding about her, as she told of allthe treats she had in store for them; and even shy Maggie had summonedup courage to ask a question which had long been troubling her.
"Mrs. Porter," she whispered, pulling the old lady's head down towardsher, "may I ask you a secret?"
"To be sure, my lamb, a dozen if you like," answered Mrs. Porter.
"Do you have trundle beds?" whispered Maggie again.
"Trundle beds? Well, I believe there is an old one up garret," saidMrs. Porter, "but I'll have it down for you, and put to rights if youlike."
"Oh, no!" said Maggie, "please don't. I _do hate_ them so, and I hadto sleep in one all last summer at Quam."
"Oh! that's it," said Mrs. Porter, "well, you shall sleep in notrundle bed here, since you don't like it. Come along up-stairs, andyou shall see what nice little cottage beds we have for you youngones."
So this trouble was at an end, and Maggie felt quite free to enjoy allthe new pleasures about her, without fear of the dreaded trundle bed.
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