Bessie among the Mountains

  IV.

  _LEM AND DOLLY._

  As soon as they were all once more in the carriage, and the horses'heads turned homeward, Fred told what Ernest had proposed. Mr.Bradford willingly gave permission for his children to join theircousins in preparing for the flower show, and promised to furnishwhatever seeds and plants it would be best for them to have, in caseMr. Porter could give them the ground.

  "That I will," said the old man readily. "And, by the way, there's aplot in the lower part of the garden that will be just about the rightthing for you. There's nothing planted there yet, for I only took itin this spring, but it has been all dug and raked over, and is readyfor whatever is to go in it. I'll give you boys each ten feet square,and the girls six. I guess that's about as much as they can manage."

  "More, I fear," said Mrs. Bradford, "at least such little hands asthose of my Bessie, are scarcely strong enough for work that couldraise any flowers fit to take a prize."

  "But we will help her, mamma," said Fred "and if she tries, andcousin Alexander thinks she has done her best, that is all that isnecessary." And he told the story of little Katy and her zinnia.

  "I may try, mamma, may I not?" said Bessie earnestly, "Katy is a verylittle girl, only four years old; and I am quite old, you know, for Iwas six last month."

  "Certainly you may try, my very old girl," said mamma, kissing thelittle, eager, upturned face; "and I will do all I can to help you;but then if you and Maggie do not take the prizes you must not be toomuch disappointed."

  "Oh! no, and I can have satis--fac--tion in my garden any way,mamma," said Bessie, "in 'tending to it and watering it; and then Ican give my flowers to you and Aunt May and every one else I love, andthat will be enough of pleasure for me."

  Mamma smiled and thanked her, and thought if her dear little girl wereto give flowers to every one who loved _her_ she would need a verylarge garden with a great many blossoms in it.

  Mr. Porter knew that Frankie had been in the water, but he had notheard how the accident came about, nor of its after consequences; andnow as he saw Fred moving restlessly to ease his aching knee, he askedhim how he had been hurt.

  Fred told the story of Frankie's ducking, of his own chase after themischief-makers, and of what had happened to himself.

  "Whew--ew--ew!" said Mr. Porter, as he finished, "I am sorry to hearthis; sorry enough, sorry enough. Can you tell me what kind of lookingboy and girl they were?"

  Fred described the boy and girl, as nearly as he could, and Mr. Portergave another long dismayed whistle.

  "Yes, I thought so," he said, "there's no one here about but those twowho would have been up to such an ugly trick as that. So, they're backagain. I hoped we were rid of them for good and all."

  "Who are they?" asked Mr. Bradford.

  "Lem and Dolly Owen, sir; as bad a pair, and the children of as bada father as one could find on a long summer day. Poor neglectedcreatures, they are to be pitied too; but it is useless to try to doanything for them, for all help is worse than thrown away. They livein a little tumble-down shanty back of the rocks at the lower end ofthe lake, and a terrible nuisance they are to me and every one in theneighborhood. The father is a drunkard of the worst sort, the motherlong since dead, and these two children, liars, vagabonds and thieves,up to every sort of wicked mischief, and a terror to all the childrenin Chalecoo. They live as they can, by robbing orchards, hen-roosts,dairies and cornfields during the summer; picking up odd bits, andstealing whatever they can lay their fingers on in the winter, halfstarved and half frozen the most of the time."

  "Can nothing be done for them?" asked Mr. Bradford.

  "No, sir; as I say, it is not worth while to try to help them. Allthat the father can lay his hands on he spends in drink. My wife wasdistressed about the children, especially the girl, to think sheshould be growing up in such wickedness and misery; and last wintershe fixed up a suit of warm clothes for her, and coaxing her intothe house with a deal of trouble, for she is as wild as a hawk, shedressed her in them, and promised to give her and her brother a goodmeal every day if they would come quietly to the house and get it. Mydear old woman hoped she might do them both some good if she couldbut keep a hold on them in this way. But the girl just took what shecould get that day as sullenly as you please, never speaking a wordof thanks, and making no promises, though she did look mighty proudof her new clothes, and hugged herself up in them as if she were gladto feel herself in something warm and comfortable. My wife, knowingwhat a thief she was, watched her all the time, and thought she couldnot possibly carry off anything; but somehow the sly creature gotthe better of her, and she had scarcely gone when a china plate wasmissed. Now my wife set a deal by that plate, for it had been herswhen she was a little child, and the boys set out at once in searchof Dolly. Well, will you believe it? no sooner did she catch sightof them, and guess what they were after, than she just dashed theplate down on the rocks, smashing it to atoms, and ran like a deer.They'd promised their mother not to hurt her, so they let her go; butthe next day she was seen in all her old rags, and we found the newclothes had been sold by Owen at the next village. Of course theywent for liquor, and that's the way everything goes. Kindness is allwasted on the children; they'll take what you give them with one hand,and steal from you with the other, and then abuse you for what you'vedone for them."

  "Did Dolly and her brother come to get the nice meal kind Mrs. Porterpromised them?" asked Bessie.

  "No, indeed; they've kept clear enough of the family ever since; notthat they are ashamed, but afraid."

  "I should think they ought to be ashamed," said Maggie, indignantly."I never heard of such ungratefulness, and Mrs. Porter ought to serveDolly right, and never do another thing for her; she don't deserve it."

  "Ah! my little girl, if we were all served right, and had nothingbut what we deserve, where would we be?" said the old man. "But thatdid just discourage my wife, and she has left the wretched creaturesto themselves since. She saw it was of no use. Owen won't leave hischildren a decent thing to their backs, a bed to sleep on, or a cup orplate to eat from. My old woman is not the first that has taken pityon them, and tried to make them a little comfortable; but whatever isgiven them just goes for drink, drink; and we have all given it up asa hopeless job. Besides, the children themselves are so lawless andthankless, that every kindness that is done for them they only turninto a means of mischief."

  "Does the father ill-treat them?" asked Mrs. Bradford.

  "Yes, he not only encourages them to steal and lie, but beats themwhen they bring nothing home which he can exchange for liquor. Weoften hear their cries away up at my house, but there's no way ofstopping it, as I see."

  "And must these poor children just be left to go to ruin?" asked Mrs.Bradford, sadly.

  "There's no one can reach them to teach them better, I am afraid,"said Mr. Porter. "You'll just get hard words and worse for your painsif you try it. Why, there was the clergyman from down in the village,came up to see them, and he brought along a bundle of good things andgave them to Dolly; and while he was talking kindly to her, he got ablow on the back with a big stone, and others came about him thick andfast. He knew it was Lem, but what could he do? He could not see theboy or fix it on him. And that's the way; they are both so sly andartful, they are seldom or never caught in the act; so though whena melon patch or hen-roost is robbed, or some fine young trees arehacked to pieces, every one feels sure it was Lem or Dolly who didthe mischief, yet it is difficult to prove it on them. Lem has hadmore thrashings than any boy of his size that ever lived, I believe,but what's the use? It only makes him worse than ever. Farmer Graftoncaught him once stealing clothes from the bleaching-ground, andhanded him over to the constable for a few days; but that night hishay-ricks were burnt down. Folks first thought it was Owen that didit, but he was proved to have lain dead drunk all night in the liquorshop down in the village; and then everybody believed it was Doll,and with reason too, for she's just bad enough to do it, young as sheis. Last March they all went off, fa
ther and children, and I did hopewe should see no more of them; but here the young ones are back, itseems. I trust Owen is not with them. If you little ones come to meto-night, I'll tell you what old Sol here did for that fellow, and howthe dumb beast showed himself the wisest of the two."

  "I am very sorry for Lem and Dolly," said Bessie. "If their motherhad not died maybe they would not have been so naughty. It's verysorrowful for children not to have any mamma to teach them better.Don't they have any one to love them, Mr. Porter?"

  "Well, they seem to love one another after their own rude fashion,"answered Mr. Porter. "It's about the only mark of good that's left inthem."

  "I wish we could do something to make them a little better," saidBessie.

  "The Lord love you for the wish," said Mr. Porter, looking kindlyaround at her, "but you could never do anything, you little lamb. Why,they'd tease you out of your senses if you went to speak to them,and they're not fit for the like of you to notice either. Just youkeep out of their way as much as you can, dearie, or they'll do you amischief if they find the chance."

  Mr. Bradford here began to talk of something else, and they all forgotLem and Dolly for the time. But as they were about half way home,Fred, who was sitting in front with Mr. Porter, suddenly exclaimed,--

  "There are those children!" and looking before them, they all sawthe ragged, miserable boy and girl standing on a stone at a littledistance from the road side.

  As the carriage approached, they darted away into the woods, but soonafter a shower of gravel and sand flying into the carriage, as itslowly toiled up a hill between two walls of rock, made it known in avery disagreeable manner that they had returned to annoy our party byfurther mischief. They kept out of sight behind the trees and rocks,however; and when Fred, who was furiously angry, begged Mr. Porterto go after them with his long whip, the loud, taunting laugh whichrang from above told that their tormentors felt themselves secure frompunishment.

  The carriage was soon beyond this narrow pass, and they saw and heardno more of Lem and Dolly, and reached home without further mischief.

  "Why, how long you stayed," said good Mrs. Porter, coming out as theydrove up to the door. "I waited to feed the chickens, as I promisedthe dear little girls here; but I am afraid they want their supperbadly. Come along, my darlings," and with a pan in each hand, andfollowed by Maggie, Bessie and Frankie, the kind old lady went out tofeed the fowls.

  "Margaret and Bessie, come here," said Mr. Stanton, calling his wifeand sister to the door as they passed through the hall. "Is not that apicture?"

  A picture it was indeed, and one which mamma thought so pretty thatshe had to call the rest of the family to enjoy it. Beneath a greatspreading pear-tree sat the motherly old lady, the last golden rays ofthe setting sun falling over her ample figure, in her neat black gown,white apron, and snowy kerchief folded over her bosom, spectacles inhand, and in her lap the pan which held the corn and barley; whilearound her were the three little ones dipping their chubby hands intothe measure, and scattering the contents among the noisy, scramblingcrowd of fowls, themselves full of glee and happiness at this, tothem, new pleasure.

  Bessie among the Mountains. p. 86.]

  There was one jealous old fellow, a pet rooster and a great beauty,who would take his supper from no hand but that of his mistress;and flying on the bench beside her, he courted her notice and a supperby himself. Mrs. Porter was about to indulge him, but Flossy, who wasseated by her, watching with great satisfaction the feeding of thechickens, seemed to think it quite unfair that he should not take hischance with the others, and soon chased him from the bench. Upon whichthe rooster refused to eat at all, and after pecking one or two ofthe smaller chickens pretty severely, he strutted away with his neckstretched very straight, and expressing his displeasure in a loud andby no means pleasant voice. In vain did Mrs. Porter call him by hisname, "Coxcomb," which he knew quite well; he only flapped his wingsand walked farther away, screaming louder than ever.

  "He is a very naughty bird, and now he must just go without anysupper," said Maggie.

  "Ah! my poor Coxcomb," said Mrs. Porter, "don't you think he ispretty?"

  "Yes," said Maggie, "he is very pretty but he is not a bit good. Heis not at all 'handsome is that handsome does--' pecking that dearlittle yellow chicken! I'd rather be that brown guinea hen who is sonice and good, even if she is not so very pretty."

  "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Porter, "that is the way, all the beauty in theworld will not make us loved if we are not kind and sweet."

  The feeding of the fowls was scarcely done when they were called in totheir own supper; and when this was over, our little girls with theirelder brothers ran off to find Mr. Porter, and beg for the story aboutold Sol.

  The old man was seated outside the kitchen door, enjoying the lovelysummer twilight, and waiting, he said, to see if the children wouldnot come to claim his promise. He took Bessie upon his knee, and badeFanny bring a stool for Maggie, while Harry and poor limping Fred, whocame slowly after the others, sat upon the curb stone which ran aroundthe old well.

  "It was just about this time last year," began Mr. Porter, when theywere all settled, "that I hired a new farm hand. His name was Ted,and he was a simple, half witted fellow, easily led by those abouthim. I don't think he had much judgment or conscience of his own, poorlad, but was ready to do either right or wrong according as he waspersuaded at the moment. Tell him to do a certain thing in a certainway and he would obey, unless some one else came along and told himdifferently; when he would do as the last speaker said, and forget allhis former orders. He meant to be faithful, but of course he was notto be trusted without a good deal of watching to make sure he was notinterfered with, and there were folks enough, bad boys and girls, whowere always ready to meddle with him and set him up to some mischief,just for the bit of fun it would make for themselves. He was the sonof a poor widow in the village, who had hard work to keep herself andher seven children fed and warmed through the winter; and Ted, whowas ready enough to help his mother so far as he knew how, could getno steady work. No one had patience with the simple lad who was soeasily led astray without intending to do wrong; and who would comeand confess his mistakes with the most triumphant air, believing thathe must have done right since he had obeyed the last orders he hadreceived.

  "But I thought with me and the boys to look after him, he could getalong here, so I hired him. He was a capital hand with horses, and hiswork was mostly about the stable, feeding the horses, rubbing themdown and the like. He used to pet the dumb creatures and talk to themas if they were human beings, and it was wonderful to see how fondthey all became of him, old Sol in particular. He would run to meetTed, and follow him about the fields just as your little Flossy therefollows you; or if he was in the stable would whinny with delight themoment he heard his step.

  "Ted had a way of curling himself up in Sol's manger and going tosleep when his work was done, and the horse would never suffer any oneto come near or disturb him till he had had his nap out.

  "Well, so Ted was doing very well, being obedient and industrious,when one day about Christmas time my son Bill went down to thesteamboat landing to bring up a load of stores which had been broughtfrom the city. There was a deep snow on the ground, with a prospectof more to come that day, and I did not feel just so willing to havehim caught in the storm. A snow storm on these mountain roads is not anice thing to be out in, I can tell you; but some of the stores werepretty badly wanted, and we were afraid they would spoil, lying on thedock.

  "So Bill started off, taking Ted with him to help him load up, anddriving Sol and Nero before the sledge.

  "When he reached the village he went to the post-office, where hefound a letter to himself, telling him his favorite brother Walter,who was at college in the city, was very ill and wanted to see him.There was but an hour or two before the train would be along, not timeenough for him to come up home and go back again; so he went to thedock, loaded up the sledge, and giving the reins to Ted, bade him gostraight home
and stop for nothing.

  "Ted would have done this had he been let alone; but as he came backthrough the village, a lot of mischievous fellows got hold of him andtold him he was to stop at the public house and rest his horses beforethey set out for their pull up the mountain. When they had persuadedhim they led him on to drink, till he became noisy and more foolishthan ever; and when they had had their fun with him they let him go.

  "As he was leaving, Seth Owen came out with his jug of whiskey andbegged to be taken up the mountain. Now I had many times warned Tedagainst Owen, for I knew he was just the one to lead the poor fellowwrong if it was only to spite me; but he told Ted I had sent ordershe was to take him home, and the lad was persuaded to do it.

  "I suppose after they were on their way, Owen drank afresh himself,and led Ted to do the same. However that was, the hours went by, andwhen Bill did not come I began to be uneasy, all the more as by thistime it was snowing heavily. I was standing on the piazza, lookingdown the road, and thinking if it was not best to yoke up a team ofoxen and go in search of my boy, when I saw the sledge coming up theside of the lake. But no Bill and no Ted were with it, the horseswere alone, plodding along through the snow, and if ever it was saidwithout words, 'there's something wrong, come as quick as you can,'old Sol said it that day. We pitched off the load, quick as lightning,and I, with my other boys, started in search of Ted. My fears for Billwere set at rest by finding, pinned to one of the bags, a note sayingwhere he had gone; for the dear thoughtful fellow had been afraid Tedwould forget to give it to me, and so put it where he knew I must seeit.

  "Sol and Nero went straight ahead without orders or guidance, for Ijust let them have the rein, thinking the faithful creatures knewbetter than I did where they should go. Half way down the mountainthey went, and night was just beginning to fall, when they stoppedshort in one of the most break-neck places on the whole road. Welooked about us, and there, sticking up out of the snow, was a man'sleg. We pulled him out in less than no time, but it was not poor Ted,but Seth Owen. We searched all about for the poor lad in vain; when,seeing old Sol was mighty uneasy, and stretching his neck out as ifhe wanted to get free, I took him out of the harness, thinking thecreature might help us.

  "Sure enough, he turned about, and going to a spot where the mountainfell sheer down a hundred feet or so, he pawed away the snow, andthere, half on, half over the edge of the precipice, hung Ted, hisclothes caught by a bush, and holding him back from sure destruction.He, as well as Owen, was dead drunk.

  "We were putting him on the sledge when I saw Sol, who had trottedback to the place where we found Owen, pawing away once more at thesnow, snorting and sniffing as if he were displeased. I went to seewhat he was about, thinking here was some other fellow buried in thesnow; but as I came up to him, he uncovered the whiskey jug, the causeof all this mischief. He smelled about it for a moment, and then,with a snort of disgust, turned about, and dashing his heels upon it,sent it flying over the cliff, then walked quietly to the sledge, andplaced himself ready to be harnessed, with an air which said, 'Thatcan do no more harm.' We lost no time in getting home, where Ted, andOwen too, were brought round with difficulty. An hour more and theywould both have been frozen to death. So you may believe we have causeto think much of old Sol."

  "But how did the two men happen to fall from the sledge so nearly inthe same place?" said Harry.

  "We supposed they were both stupefied, partly by drink, partly withthe cold, and that the sledge had run upon the bank, causing it totip sideways, and they had slipped off, while the load being securelyfastened with ropes had remained in its place."

  "And did Ted ever get drunk again?" Bessie.

  "Not while he was with me," said Mr. Porter, "and I hope he never willagain. When he was told of his narrow escape and of what old Sol haddone, he said, 'Nice old horse, nice old horse, he knew better thanTed. He teach Ted never touch whiskey stuff again.' His mother movedout west this spring, and he went with her; but I think his poor dullbrain has received a lesson it will never forget."

  "And what did Owen say about his jug?" asked Fred.

  "He was very angry, and swore he would make me pay for it, seemingto think little of the saving of his life since he had lost that. Hemanaged to pick up another one in a day or two, and the lesson did himno good."