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Then afterwards they repaired to the smooth green lawn, where a
fine swing was erected, and a small target placed, with plenty of
bows and arrows for the boys to try their skill.— Page 89.
:
T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON AND EDINBURGH.
WOODLEIGH HOUSE:
on, THE
HAPPY HOLIDAYS.
LONDON:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
AND EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLIL.
CONTENTS.
Chap.
L The Legend of the Lily, woe eee
HL The Fairy Sunbeam, aes ry ove
IIT, Ida’s Experiment, ... ase one
IV. The Golden Root, and the Little Brown Seed,
V. The White Violet, cee ose
VI. Story of Master Snip,
VII. The Singing Bird from Talry-land.
VIII. The Enchanted Mirror, and the Invisible Vail.
1X. Conclusion, o ooo
1
hd
al
ae
128 L
132
217 £
143 p
233
THE HOLIDAYS AT WOODLEIGIL
CHAPTER IL.
Summer is here, with song and sunshine, -
with fragrance and flowers!
The snow has long since melted from the
hillside, and the ice from the fettered stream;
the tall branches are no more garlanded with
glittering icicles, and very many weeks have
elapsed since Jack Frost traced his last droll
etching on the window-pane in token of fare- —
well.
The crocus and daisy were the first that
ventured to peep out in the early spring ;
and then as the soft breeze breathed gently.
and the sun smiled more warmly over the
benumbed ground, other blossoms timidly
8 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
opened their leaves, tiny blades sprang up,
and soon the spirit of life and beauty moved
abroad upon the earth, calling new loveliness
into being ever as she passed.
Summer is here! There are sweet flowers
in the meadow, and sunshine in the glade:
there is perfume in the morning breeze, and
music everywhere. The merry brook tumbles
noisily over the stones, or glides gently amid
the long grass out into the broad open sun-
shine, singing ever on its way of freedom and
delight. Soft summer winds murmur amid
green leaves, and blithe birds build their nests
among waving branches, where before the
bleak northern blast whistled, and the long
icicles hung.
Summer is here again; and now the mid-
summer holidays-have come, and once more
Aunt Elsie’s beloved little people are gathered
abeut her at Woodleigh. How pleasant the
dear old house looks, nestling down among the
green hills, and almost covered with flowering
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 9
vines, and branches of tall trees that seem to
twine their arms lovingly above the low roof!
The fine sloping hills, down which the sleds
ran so famously over the crisp winter snow,
are now clothed in rich green verdure, and gay
with daisies and bright wild-flowers, while the
large skating-pond, freed from its icy bondage,
and fringed with water-lilies, lies like a silver
mirror, faithfully reflecting the graceful wil-
lows which bend admiringly over its surface.
Fragrant Madeira vinesand brilliant honey-
suckles clamber upthe porch, and cluster above
the door; whilesomeambitious young branches
stretch themselves along the wall, holding fast
to the rough stone with their delicate tendrils,
and forcing their way between the chinks o.
the half closed shutters, to get a peep within;
seeming ever, as they sway in the soft air, to
nod in approbation of what they see. An in-
quisitive sunbeam has already crept through a
small crevice, and now lies broken into frag-
ments upon the floor of the old parlour.
10 TUR LEGEND OF TNE JILY.
The dear, cozy, old parlour, that seemed in
the cold winter eveningsso exactly suited tothe
season, and whose very atmosphere breathed
of warmth and comfort, appears now in that
shaded light the most delightful of all coul
and pleasant places in the sultry heat of noon.
Thin white muslin draperies shade the win-
dows, the sofas and chairs are covered with
delicate chintz, bright with richly painted
flowers, and cool matting is spread upon the
floor. The shining fire-irons are erossed de-
murely upon the painted hearth; while an
immense china jar, filled with fragrant mag-
nolias, now occupies the place of the huge
Christmas log, and fills the reom with its de-
licious breathings. There are flowers tooupon
the mantle-shelf, and on the table an exqui-
site moss basket filled with freshly gathered
roses. Nowonder the sunbeam and the honey-
suckle love to peep into the shaded quiet
room.
All within is very still, and but for the
La,
Borne upon the wings of the summer air, a shout of merry laugh-
ter rings out from a little wood just across the pond, and there, under
the shadow of the great forest trees, is Aunt Elsie, surrounded by a
laughing group, who have seated her in state on a rustic bench.—
Page ll.
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. ‘Tl
newly gathered flowers, one might think the
place deserted; but borne upon the wings of
the summer air, a shout of merry laughter
rings out from a little wood just across the
pond; and there, under the shade of the great
forest-trees, with books and baskets scattered
-around, is the dear Aunt Elsie, surrounded
by a laughing group, who have seated her in
state upon a rustic bench, made of the strong
gnarled branches of a wild grape-vine, and
with joyous unchecked mirth, hail her as
Queen of the May, while the kind old lady
looks lovingly upon the group of bright young
faces which cluster like living flowers about
her.
What a pleasant scene it is out beneath
those grand old trees, and how beautiful in
the freshness of youth is the merry little band
eollected there!
There is Harry Wilder, a tall boy of four-
teen who has appointed himself guardian of
the party in all their rambles; and Grace and
12 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
Clara, his gentle cousins; and merry romping
little Kate Sutherland, who is always the first
to scramble up the steep hills, or spring across
a brook, never heeding the stepping-stones,
but bounding over like a young fawn, her
bright eyes dancing with joy, and her long
curls flying back upon the wind, as she laugh-
ingly challenges the rest to follow.
Then, there is her more thoughtful sister
Mabel, and her brothers, Edward and Robert,
who are always ready for a race or a ramble,
enjoying every pastime with unwearied de-
light.
The orphan Frank Field is there beside,
with his darling sister Lilie, who seems
less childlike than her years, and clings so
fondly to her brother, as though she felt how
utterly alone they are in the great world,
and how they must be all and all to each
other.
Then there are the two blooming sisters
Marian and Ellen Lee, with their lively
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 13
cousin Fred, and student brother Arthur,
who is Frank Field’s chosen companion.
And last of all, though far from least in the
hearts of all who know her, is Aunt Elsie’s
niece, sweet Edith Morton, who is at the
same time playfellow and instructress of the
little group, and shares with Aunt Elsie her-
self their entire and perfect love.
And now the bright sunshine smiledin upon
them as they gathered about the dear Aunt
Elsie, and little Kate Sutherland exclaimed,
“T think Aunt Elsie ought to be crowned,
since we have chosen her Queen of the
May.â€
“Yes, so she should,†cried Fred Lee; “and
here come Grace and Edith with their aprons
full of flowers: come, young ladies, all employ
your graceful fingers to form a wreath, while
Arthur and I compose a speech worthy of this
momentous occasion.â€
“Not quite so fast, Master Fred,†said
Grace, as he approached her; “we have
14 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
gathered these flowers te fill Aunt Elsie’s
mantel-vases, and perhaps she would rather
enjoy their freshness for several days, than see
them woven into a wreath that will so soon
entirely wither.â€
“ But we can easily gather more,†replied
Kate, who now drew near with several of the
other children: “may I take yours, Edith?â€
“ Hear first what Aunt Elsiesays,†answered
Edith: “ she may perhaps decline the crown.â€
“Oh, no!†cried several voices: “you will
like to be queen, will you not, Aunt Elsie?â€
“ You forget, my dear children,†replied the
old lady, “that both the season of May and
my youth are long since past ; and I have no
desire at this late period to assume a crown
even of flowers, which would but ill-become
my withered face. I think even your young
imaginations would fail to transform me into
the queen of love and beauty.â€
* But you are queen of love, because we all
love you,†said little Lilie, fondly.
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 15
* And queen of beauty, because ze are‘your
devoted slaves,†added Fred, with a mock
heroic air.
* Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown !â€
exclaimed Harry Wilder, in his droll way!
“ for my part, as a friend of republican liberty,
I heartily approve Aunt Elsie’s resolution.â€
Theboys.applauded, and insisted that Harry
should proceed with his speech; but some of
the smaller children seemed disappointed, until
. Edith whispered that it would scarcely seem
respectful to persevere in their design against
Aunt Elsies wish.
‘If Aunt Elsie refuses the crown, she will
not reject vur offerings,†said Clara, present-
ing one of the baskets, filled with flowers, as
she spoke.
“T accept the gift with pleasure,†replied
Aunt Elsie, joining in the spirit of the chil-
dren, “and command you, as dutiful subjects,
to arrange these flowersinto tasteful bouquets
before they wither.â€
16 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
Tis was no difficult command to fulfil, and
the little girls immediately seated themselves
at Aunt Elsie’s feet, with the basket of flowers
beside them ; while the boys busied themselves
selecting the most beautiful, and some of them
cut long slender blades of the new grass to tie’
up the bouquets. It was pleasant to observe
the kind and unselfish spirit that prompted
each to desire the other’s group to equal her
own: there was no wrangling for the freshest
or most beautiful flowers; but many excla-
mations of delight burst forth as the merry
group proceeded with their graceful employ-
ment, and Aunt Elsie’s admiration was con-
stantly challenged for some flower of exceed-
ing beauty.
“ This is my favourite,†cried Clara Wilder,
holding up a stately white lily as she spoke;
“it has all the fragrance of a rose without its
thorns; and what can be more beautiful than
these pure white leaves?â€
“‘A lily always reminds me of some pale,
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 17
graceful, high-born lady,†replied her cousin
Harry.
“One who wraps herself in a white Cash-
mere, and shivers at every wind that blows,’, —
added Fred.
“I have often watched the lilies floating
on the water, and wondered they were not
washed away.â€
“You forget that their roots are firm and
unshaken beneath,†said Edith, gently.
‘Like faith,†added Grace, “of which
they seem to be emblems.â€
‘I used to think the flowers were fairies,â€
said Marian Lee, “and remember watching
in the moon-light, hoping to see them as-
sume their own shapes.â€
“Oh, Aunt Elsie,†interrupted little Lilie,
dropping the flowers from her lap as she
eagerly sprang up, “oh, Aunt Elsie, can’t
you tell us a fairy story about a lily? I am
sure you can find one in the old portfolio.â€
Aunt Elsie smiled. “I suspect you think
18 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
the old portfolio is inexhaustible,†she said;
“however, I will try to tell you a short story
this time without its aid: it is not a fairy tale,
but merely relates the history of the lily,
which Clara so much admires.â€
“You are so good,†whispered Lilie, de-
lightedly kissing Aunt Elsie’s cheek. “And
now,†she added, turning to her companions,
“you must all be still and listen, because
Aunt Elsie’s stories are so true.â€
‘I cannot answer for the truth of this ene,
Lilie,†rejoined the old lady, laughing, while
the children eagerly expressed their desire
to hear it; “and I doubt whether you will
like it so very much after all: it may, how-
ever, please some among you: it is very short.
I will relate it as well as I can, and call it
Che Legend of the Lily,
There were once two stars of equal magni-
tude, who for countless years had traversed
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 19
together the boundless realms of space, and
every morn and night sang, as with one voice,
their hymn of praise and thanksgiving.
Far beneath them the earth revolved with-
in its orbit, and seemed to the stars, as they
gazed down upon it, to be a planet of great
and wondrous beauty.
Long had they watched the changing sea-
sons, and marked the varied and beautiful
forms which nature takes, until one star
longed to leave his sphere, and dwell upon
the earth. His twin companion saw, with
unspeakable grief, this restless desire; for
well she knew that if he left his native home,
he could return to it no more.
Tenderly she reminded him of the ages they
had passed in sweet communion together, of
her own utter loneliness should he leave her,
and the fearful doom that awaited him if he
fell from his own sphere: his light would then
be quenched in unutterable darkness, and
his glory departed forever.
20 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
The discontented star listened silently: he
knew that his purity would be sullied, and his
doom irrevocable if he left his native home;
but the desire increased within him; his
bright brow paled, and his harp no more
sounded the hymn of adoration and praise,
while he still gazed yearningly upon the
earth.
At length there was sadness in the spheres,
for the star had fallen, and his place could
‘ve filled no more forever!
Sorrowfully the deserted star had watched
the downward course of her lost companion.
She saw him fall to earth, and there become
a dark, unsightly thing; the light of his
glory quenched in the deep waters where
he had fallen.
Sad and lonely she came each night, and
gazed steadfastly Cown upon the stream
wherein her lost riate was buried. Her
tender, earnest beam, fell gently upon the
water, and penetrat:d even into the depths
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 21°
Where the fallen one now rested in utter
darkness and desolation.
Then when the gentle forgiving ray fell
upon the bosom of the lost, unhappy star,
he slowly lifted his bowed head, and turned
his dimmed brow upward in repentant hu-
mility.
And still the lonely star shone steadfastly
down, until, cheered by her encouraging ten-
derness, and guided by her faithfui light, the
fallen one raised his head above the surface
of the stream, while his pale brow turned
ever, in repentant humble love, to the mate
he had forsaken; but his chains were bound
securely beneath the wave, and he could
return to his native sphere no more.
Still the loving star shone prayerfully upon
him, and his brow, from which the glory had
departed forever, became white and radiant,
in perfect purity; and, though he might no
more join in the song of the spheres, yet the
hymn of praise and thanksgiving came up in
29 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY.
a gush of rich fragrance from his heart; and
the loving star sang for joy.
Men passing, said, “ Beholda beautiful lily.â€
But the stars whispered together, “ Behold
our brother, the fallen star!â€
And ever, as the gentle one smiled tenderly
upon him, there mingled with the star-flower’s
prayerful breathing, a tone of never-dying
sadness,—
**Thou art lost to me forever: I can come
to thee no more!â€
Then the light of the faithful star paled in
sorrow; and lo, as the fallen one turned his
pale brow upward, the place of his watchful
mate was vacant, and a sweet voice breathed
close at his side,—
“Tam with thee forever: Forget me not!â€
And there was sadness in the spheres, for
the faithful star had fallen; but joy upon the
earth, for a new flower was born.
Aunt Elsie paused, and little Frank Field
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 23
lifting his head from his hand, said thought-
fully, “The flowers have always appeared to
me to be the stars of earth.â€
‘I shall love lilies better than ever now,â€
said Clara, softly, “for they seem to teach, by
"their purity, the power of repentance.â€
« Aided by trustful, unvarying love,†added
Edith, “it was the beam of the faithful star,
that led the fallen one to lift his head above
the waters in which he was buried.â€
‘“‘And afterwards she came down to earth,
and dwelt with him always,†said Grace.
“The Forget-me-not may well be called the
emblem of constancy and truth.â€
““Who ever thought of a little blue Forget-
me-not being a star!†cried Kate, merrily:
“why, I have gathered handfuls of them,
hundreds of times, and never suspected them
to be more than mere wild-flowers; but I
shall be a little afraid of them hereafter, if
this is one of Aunt Elsie’s true stories, Lilie.â€
. “No,†replied the child, with a little sigh
24 THE LEGEND OF THE LILY,
and a disappointed air, “no, I don’t believe
this one is true; it is not at all like a fairy
story, which I like so much better.â€
' “Never mind, Lilie; there are plenty of
fairy tales in store,†said Aunt Elsie, laying
her hand soothingly on the little girl’s head, —
‘‘and when we come out into the woods to-
morrow, I will have one in readiness for you:
will that do?â€
“Oh, yes, thank you,†replied the child;
“but I thought the story of the Lily very
pretty indeed, only I understand about the
fairies so much easier, you know.â€
“Lilie is scarcely able to soar up to the
stars yet,†said Harry, pleasantly, “but she
makes a darling little fairy herself; so I think
we shall keep her on earth a while longer.â€
The bouquets were now all arranged, and
after being submitted to Aunt Elsie’s inspec-
tion, and duly admired, they were carefully
put in one of the baskets and carried to the
house. The children then placed them in
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 25
vases filled with fresh water, and for several
days their beauty and fragrance lent an added
charm to the pleasant, dear old parlour.
CHAPTER II.
Lrrrte Livre awoke the next morning full
of hope and expectation. The party were to
spend aH day m the woods; and Dinah had
prepared a nice cold collation for them : Aunt
Elsie too had promised to tell them a fairy
story, and altogether Lilie was quite sure this
day was to be one of perfect enjoyment.
Her dreams had been very pleasant: visions
of fairies and fairy-land floated through her
mind, and seemed to prepare her for the bright
reality tocome. So, as soon as she awoke, she
jumped up hastily, and ran to draw back the
window curtain, that the glad morning sun-
shine might beam into the room.
26 TIlE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
But poor little Lillie was doomed to
disappointment: a heavy fog rested on the
hills, almost concealing them from sight, the
air was close and heavy, the sky covered in
clouds, and the raindrops fell steadily and
fast.
Lilie looked in vain for a single spot of
blue among the Jeaden-coloured clouds ; she
tried to think it might be only a shower; but
the rain fell with a dull determined sound, as
though it had fully made up its mind to
drench the earth that day; and the little
girl was forced to abandon all hope of the
projected party, while, with a very sad and
discontented face, she dressed herself, and
joined her companions down stairs.
“ Well, we must forego our out-door
ramble to-day,†cried Robert Sutherland, as
Lilie entered the room, “ and strive to amuse
ourselves within : here comes Lilie, looking
as sorry and disappointed as possible.â€
“Tam sure I look sorry and disappointed
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 27
too,†cried his sister Kate, “for I don’t like
to be cooped up in the house in summer one
bit; but I mean to keep myself busy, and
then the day won’t appear so long.â€
“ That is true philosophy, Kate,†answered
Harry Wilder: “ I believe those who are con-
stantly employed have no time to be dis-
contented. This will be a fine day, boys, to
finish our bows and arrows.â€
“That it will,†cried the boys.
“I suppose,†continued Fred, “ that
Arthur has some book in store to pore over :
he is never at a loss: and Frank seems quite
content to sit at the window and watch the
rain.â€
“Tam listening to the sound of the rain-
drops on the leaves,†replied Frank: “ it is
just like the chiming of tiny bells.â€
“I suspect you are more than half a poet,
Franky,†said Edith, smilingly, as she drew
near him. “ To you ever think there might
be fairies hid beneath the leaves ?â€
98 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
“ No,†replied the boy, with an answering
smile, “ but I like to think the flowers feel
grateful for this summer rain, and so send
up a voice of thanksgiving.â€
“I wonder which they love the best, sun-
shine or rain,†said Ellen, musingly.
“ If I was a flower, I should certainly pre-
fer sunshine,†cried merry Kate Sutherland ;
“and I think the flowers are of my opinion: |
see how they droop their heads beneath the
weight of the drops.â€
“So they do in the heat of noonday,†re-
plied her sister Mabel. “If you were a flower,
Kate, I think you would find both rain and
sunshine necessary to your existence.â€
“ Certainly,†added Harry Wilder: “ rain
to the flowers is like disappointments to us :
you see how we dreop now, but to-morrow
we will be fresher and brighter than ever.â€
“Well spoken, my young moralists,†said
Aunt Elsie, who had entered unperceived :
“clouds and sunshine are doubtless as need-
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 29
fal to us as to the flowers; but no matter
how louring the clouds appear without, let
us take care always to keep sunshine within.
E think I see one little cloud here that
threatens to drop rain; but I hope it will
only be like a summer shower, and end in
brightness,†she added, turning towards Lilie,
who had been standing idly tapping the
window-pane during all this discussion, and
whose clouded brow and melancholy face
certainly threatened a shower of tears.
“Why, Lilie,†cried Kate, “don’t look so
very sorrowful, it will certainly be clear to-
morrow ; and besides, it does not follow that
fairy stories must be read in the woods : does
it Aunt Elsie? shall we not hear one to-day ?â€
“We will see about it after breakfast,â€
replied the old lady, smiling kindly at Kate's
good-natured efforts to soothe little Lilie’s
disappointment. “TI dou™t not that even the
fairies will feel content to be housed during
such a drenching rain as this,â€
30 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
The sound of the bell now summoned all
to the breakfast-table, where a plentiful
supply of delicious sweet milk and fine white
rolls awaited them, to which they did such
ample justice, as proved their disappointment
did not affect their appetites. After the
meal, Edith, assisted by the elder girls, wash-
ed and put aside the breakfast things ; and
then after cne more anxious look at the clouds
(which showed no disposition to disperse),
they fully resigned themselves to the ne-
cessity of spending the entire day within-
doors, and arranged their employments ac-
cordingly.
And after all, this rainy day was quite
opportune, for there were many unfinished
tasks to be accomplished. Work-boxes were
produced, drawing pencils sharpened; and
the little party seemed determined to improve
their time profitably. The cloud vanished
from little Lilie’s brow, as Kate and herself
became intent upon the welfare of their
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 31
respective dolls, who were now going through
all the various scenes of being dressed for
parties like young ladies, and put in bed like
bad children; paying visits, and catching
colds, with a rapidity that would have proved
fatal to any other than such wonderful con-
stitutions as these dollies possessed.
Aunt Elsie was busied about household
affairs, and the morning was far spent when
she joined the children. They were in-
tently engaged in their respective employ-
ments, and it was not until after dinner that
they reminded Aunt Elsie of the promised
story.
The kind old lady immediately complied
with their request, by selecting a manuscript,
which she called
Ghe Fairy Sunbeam.
Once upon a time, so very long ago that
neither you nor I could count the years
32 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
which have elapsed since then, there lived a
miserable woman, with a little daughter.
The woman lived in a mean garret, and
was so poor that both she and her little one
were oftentimes obliged to go without bread:
so by this you may know that she had not
much to give away.
Nevertheless, late one stormy night, long
after she had taken her shivering child in
her arms and laid down to rest, as best she
might, on her miserable pallet of straw,
she heard a timid knocking at the door.
Groping her way in the dark, she hastened
to lift the latch; and, as she opened the
door, saw, by the faint light that came
from without, a figure standing upon the
threshold.
“I am dripping wet and very weary,â€
said the stranger, in a low voice: “ will you
grant me shelter for the night ?â€
“That will I, and welcome,†replied the
good woman; “but it is a sorry place to
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 33
come to for comfort, where there is no fire
nor light.â€
As she spoke, the stranger entered, and
the poor woman hastened to put together
the few dying embers on the hearth, and
threw upon them her sole remaining armful
of brushwood, which she speedily coaxed
into a blaze.
The stranger threw off his wet garment,
and drew a low settle to the fire, while the
good woman produced her last roll, and
offered it with words of welcome.
Her stranger visitor took the proffered
bread; and it seemed to her, as he sat there,
that the fire gave out unusual warmth, and a
light, as of sunshine, filled the miserable room.
She looked with eager interest upon her
guest. He was very young, with a fair
smiling face, and long bright hair, flowing
upon his shoulders. His apparent youth
and delieate frame, moved still more the
compassion of the poor woman, who besought
Cc
34 TILE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
him to rest upon the straw pallet, which ake
would cheerfully resign to him.
But the strange guest insisted that she
should lie down again beside her child, while
he dried the wet from his garments; and
the mother at length complied.
She laid awake for a very long time,
wondering that the fire of light brush did
not die out: but the bright flame went
crackling up the chimney throughout all the
night; and, as the pleasant warmth spread
about the miserable garret, drying the damp-
ness from the walls, a sense of comfort crept
over her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
She dreamed in her sleep that the stranger
stood beside her pallet, clothed in bright-
coloured garments, and his long fair hair
floating to his waist; he looked kindly on
her, and said—
“You have unknowingly shown charity
‘to one who has the power to serve you.
This vase contains a sunbeam from Fairy-
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 35
Jand ; and so long as you keep it safely, you
need not despair of the future.â€
He held up a small crystal vase as he
spoke, which seemed to be filled with a
living light ; and as its bright ray fell upon
the poor woman’s face, she awoke with a
start, and looked about her
It was morning: the grey light of dawn
came peering in through the open crevices
and the broken window, but seemed quenched
in that brighter glow which still filled the
chamber. The fire yet burned upon the
hearth, but the stranger had disappeared.
The woman arose, bewildered, and there,
upon the mantel-shelf, stood a tiny crystal
vase, which emitted a light like a sunbeam.
Then the poor woman knew she had not
been dreaming, but that all which had passed
was reality. She put the vase carefully
away, and from this time all things prospered
with her. She no longer abandoned herself
to despair, as she had formerly done, but
36 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
relying upon the stranger’s promise, went
to work with renewed spirit. She believed
the fairy sunbeam would eventually bring
her some great good; and she already felt
its influence in her constant and hopeful
efforts.
She was enabled to support herself and
child in comparative comfort, working early
and late, while the fairy sunbeam constantly
sent forth a cheering light, making even
her desolate garret an abode of hope and
peace.
But the good woman at length fell sick,
and died, leaving her little daughter Serena
quite alone in the wide world, with no other
possession than the crystal vase which held
the fairy sunbeam.
Serena had lived all her life within the
influence of the sunbeam, and she knew how
much it had contributed to the comfort of
their home. She believed firmly what her
mother told her of the wonderful good it
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 37
would bring at last, and promised with
streaming eyes, to treasure it with the
greatest care.
After her mother was buried, the little
girl felt very desolate and sorrowful. She
had nobody now to love or care for her, and
although still very young, was forced to pro-
vide for herself. The neighbours were very
poor, and unable to assist her; but they ad-
vised her to go up to the great city, where
she would doubtless find employment, as
many other children did.
Serena could do no better than take their
advice; so, carefully concealing the precious
vase in her bosom, and being supplied with
a little basket of provision by the kind neigh-
bours who pitied her forlorn condition, she
turned from her native place to travel on
foot to the great city.
It was a bright morning when she set
forth on her journey, but she had a long
distance to walk, and she knew that at least
38 TIE FAIRY SUNBEAM,
one night must be spent in the woods, or by
the roadside.
This thought did not, however, discourage
Serena, for the fairy sunbeam seemed to warm
her heart, while its bright ray mingled with
the sunshine that fell upon her path.
The little girl had walked many a weary
mile, and night was drawing on apace, when
she saw a boy seated by the wayside, crying
sadly.
Moved by his distress, Serena approached
him, and asked the cause of his grief.
“Tam travelling to the great city,†replied
the boy, “but have lost myself in these
woods. Iam hungry and tired, and afraid
to stay here all night alone.â€
“Ts that all?†returned the little girl en-
couragingly, “ why, I am no better off my-
self: I, too, am going to the great city. I
am tired, and must stay in the woods all
night. But what then? we will rest to-
night, and start again in the morning. See,
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 39
Ihave bread! let us share it together. I
am so glad to find a companion! the way will
seem pleasant and short if we travel hand in
hand.â€
The boy looked up in surprise as she
spoke these fearless words; and, as he did
so, the fairy sunbeam, which Serena carried
in her bosom, gleamed full upon him. He
felt its magical influence; the woods seemed
to him less lonely, and the way less drear.
He answered the little girl with a smile, and,
rising from the bank, walked on with her,
hand in hand, while the fairy sunbeam still
fell on him, and shone upon their path.
When the sun at last went to sleep behind
the hills, and left the moon to take his place
as best she could, our two little travellers
selected a smooth, grassy bank near the road-
side, where they determined to rest for the
night.
The boy, who called himself Conrad,
busily gathered the dry twigs and branches,
40 TIE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
and then, by rubbing pieces of bark together,
produced a fire, to keep off any wild animals
which might be prowling about; while Serena
opened her basket, and they partook together
of the provision it contained.
They told each other their histories; and
Conrad said he had left his mother to try
and earn something in the great city to
which they were journeying. He wept.
when Serena told him how lonely she was.
in the world, and promised to take her some
time to his mother, who, he was sure, would
love her very dearly.
Thus the time wore away; and all the
while the fairy sunbeam was mingling its
ray with the bright fire-flame, and sending a
glow to the boy’s heart. But of this he knew
nothing: he only felt that he was happier
and stronger since Serena joined him.
At length, through very weariness, the
children slept; and still the fire burned
brightly—no evil beast disturbed their rest,
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 41
and they awoke at dawn, refreshed and
grateful, to pursue their way.
For a time they journeyed on with light
hearts; but at length they came to a thick
clump of trees, where the road seemed lost
to view, and the branches were so closely
interlaced that even daylight could not pene-
trate them.
Conrad paused in fear—he knew not
which way to go; but Serena saw the light
of the fairy sunbeam falling on her path, and
went steadily forward.
“Come back,†cried the boy, “we shall
be lost if we enter those dismal-looking
woods ; we had better rest here until some
traveller passes, of whom we can ask the
way.â€
But Serena answered, “Courage, Conrad,
there is a path out of every wood, and we
shall find one out of this, Iam sure.†So
saying, she stepped boldly on in the track of
the fairy sunbeam.
42 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM,
When Conrad saw the little girl so deter-
mined, he had nothing left but to follow;
and as she took his hand, he felt again the
sunbeam’s influence, and listening to her
pleasant voice, quite forgot his fears.
Not that he was a coward at all, for he
bravely pursued and killed a large snake
that lay across their path, and forded the
rapid streams with his little companionon his
shoulders ; but difficulties soon discouraged
him, and he saw only the dangers of the way.
In short, he needed the fairy sunbeam.
Weary and travel-worn, the young adven-
turers reached at last the great city, where a
poor market-woman gave them shelter for
the night ; and, upon hearing their story,
offered at once to employ Serena, for she too
began to feel the influence of the charm
which the little girl carried in her bosom.
Through the kindness of this good woman,
Conrad found a situation with a neighbouring
gardener; and although the children were
ITE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 43
very sad at the thought of parting, they con-
soled themselves with the prospect of meet-
ing very often.
“TI am sure I shall never be contented
away from you,†said Conrad, sorrowfully ;
“you always seem to make everything go
well, and I forget there are any troubles in
the world when you speak; but now, day
after day will come and go without my see-
ing you, and I shall be very sad.â€
Serena smiled. “We shall meet very
often,†she said, “and take pleasant walks
together after our work is done; then we
will talk over all our plans; and as for
troubles, why, if they come, we will meet
them together, that is all. Cheer up, there
are bright days in store. Do you know that
I expect to be rich, and very happy yet?
Yes—a great lady—and ride in my coach, to
be sure; and you shall ride too.â€
Then the boy laughed, and the fairy
sunbeam fell upon him, and sent a glow to
44 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM,
his heart ; and thus, with renewed hope,
he left his companion and went to his new
home.
As time passed on, Serena became a great
favourite with her new friends. Who, indeed,
could help loving one who flung such a cheer-
ing influence about her, ever as she went?
The sunbeam that she carried in her bosom
constantly shed its magic light upon her path,
and warmed her heart with its genial glow ;
and thus, though oftentimes crossed and har-
assed by cares, or wearied with the tiresome
tasks that fell to her share, the little girl
conquered all difficulties, and contrived to be
very happy.
Conrad, on the contrary, allowed every
circumstance to trouble him ; and it was only
the magic of the fairy beam, and the light of
Serena’s countenance, that kept him from
absolute despondency.
It chanced that among the customers
whom Serena's bright face attracted to the
HE FAIRY SUNBEAM, 45
stand of the poor market-woman, was a lady
who was very rich, and very unhappy, just
because she had nothing in the world to dv
but ride ina fine coach and talk about her
neighbours. She was tired of rich dresses
and dainty food ; she did not care for flowers ;
reading or thinking was too much exertion ;
and this unfortunate lady could do nothing
at all but recline upon a sofa, and sigh for
something new.
When she first saw Serena’s happy face,
she envied her ; but as she oftener met the
little girl, she too began to feel the influence
of the fairy sunbeam: and while she could
not account for the charm Serena exercised
over her, yet desired to have her always at
her side.
The rich lady spoke to the good market-
woman, and made her so many handsome
presents, and talked so much of what she
would do for the little girl, that the kind
woman at length consented, though with
46 TUE FAIRY SUNBEAM,
many tears, to part with Serena, whom she
dearly loved.
The child herself felt very unwilling to go ;
but when she saw Conrad's utter despair, as
he spoke of her becoming a fine lady, and
forgetting the poor gardener’s boy, she strove
to comfort him, and in the effort comforted
herself.
The lady took Serena to her elegant
home ; and the little girl was dressed in fine
clothing, and brought into the parlour every
day to amuse her new friend. She felt
sometimes impatient of the restraint put
upon her actions, for she was not allowed to
run and jump as she pleased, but instructed
to be quiet in all her movements.
Still she kept the fairy sunbeam in her
bosom, and soon its wonderful influence was
felt throughout the house. Every one loved
Serena, for her presence inspired them with
new joy, and life seemed beautiful to all who
heard her words and looked upon her face.
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 47
Even the languid heart of the rich lady
moved with a quickened pulse. She began
to see beauty in the flowers that had hitherto
passed unnoticed, and determined to adopt
Serena as her child.
Meanwhile the little girl frequently saw
Conrad, and cheered him with her hopeful
smiles, while the influence of the fairy sun-
beam was constantly increasing in her heart.
“You will be a great lord yet, Conrad,â€
she would say; “yes, and will carry many fine
things to your good mother; and then how
rejoiced she will be to see you again!
You work hard to be sure, but it is only
for a season: the reward will certainly
come; and, to say the truth, I had much
rather be out in the garden weeding and
hoeing with you, than made to sit still on a
chair half the day, or walk carefully among
the flowers, lest I should tear my fine clothes;
but what is it after all, if we do our duty,
and see each other often: eh, Conrad >â€
48 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
And then the boy would return to his work
with renewed vigour, and so long as the in-
fluence of the fairy sunbeam remained, would
indulge in pleasant visions of the happy
time to come, when Serena and himself
would sit at his mother’s knee, and never be
parted again; but after a while the glow
would fade from his heart, and then again he
sought his hopeful little companion.
The rich lady at last told Serena that she
meant to adopt her for her own daughter,
and as she would then be a great lady, and
ride in her coach, she must never again speak
to Conrad, who was only a poor gardener’s
boy, nor see the old market-woman, who was
certainly not a suitable companion.
This distressed the little girl very much,
and she begged the lady to send her away
rather than forbid her to meet her friends ;
but the lady called her a silly child, who
knew not what was best for her, and sent
her up to her own room in disgrace.
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 49
As Serena stood by the window, she saw
Conrad waiting beneath, and crept softly
down stairs, and out into the garden to meet
him. The fairy sunbeam was still in her
bosom, and so she thought within herself—
“Perhaps this may be the great good
which the fairy sunbeam was to bring. I
am to be a fine lady, and ride in a coach ;
but poor Conrad will be so sad when he can-
not seeme. I will give the sunbeam to him,
and then who knows but in time he may
become a great lord too; and then we will
be happy, oh ! so happy, together !â€
Inspired with these thoughts, she told
Conrad how the rich lady meant to take her
for her child; and then taking the crystal
vase from her bosom, she gave it to the boy,
telling him to be careful of it for her sake,
and it would bring him good fortune at last.
Conrad placed the vase carefully in his
breast, but no sooner had he done so, than he
felt its inspiring influence: it now became
D
50 TILE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
his turn to encourage Serena, and speak of
the happy days im store for both.
The children parted, Conrad to persevere
hopefully in his toil, and Serena to the bon-
dage which she now for the first time felt
intolerably irksome.
It was not long before the lady began to
notice the change in the little girl: she no
longer went singing about the house, but
became silent and sad. She performed her
tasks mechanically ; but all the finery and
dainties which were heaped upon her failed
to make her glad: she pined constantly for
Conrad and her humble friend. The glow
of the fairy sunbeam was fast fading from
her heart, and the little girl grew dull and
spiritiess.
The jady became offended at Serena : now
that the fairy sunbeam was gone from her
heart, she failed to interest or amuse.
“ You have become such a dull moping
little thing,†said the lady at last, “that I
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. 5)
will keep you no more: go back to the
friends for whom you so constantly pine.â€
So saying she put Serena out into the
road, and shut the door. The little girl
walked a short way, and then sat down in
great sorrow: the tears fell upon her lap in
showers, when she heard a familiar voice
exclaim,
“What, my little Serena, sitting crying
alone! how is this?†It was Conrad who
spoke ; and placing himself beside the little
girl, he listened with affectionate interest to
her story; then kissing the tears from her
cheek, said,
“Courage, Serena! look up: you see the
dark days are past, and bright ones are in
store. AH things have prospered with me
since we parted. I have watched at the door
day by day, hoping to see you, and now we
have met at last. You see how all things
come right in the end. Now I have learned
to be a gardener myself, and we will go home
52 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
to my mother, and you shall cheer her old
age with the smiles I so love to sec on yout
bright face: they will come back again, I am
sure, will they not?â€
And as he spoke so kindly and fearlessly,
they did come back; for a ray from the fairy
sunbeam fell just upon her heart, and she
smiled through her tears, and putting her
hand in his, arose and went hopefully on.
The children went back to the good mar-
ket-woman, who furnished them with a store
of provisions; and then they set forth to
travel hand in hand on the road where they
first had met.
Conrad restored the crystal vase to Serena,
but the fairy sunbeam had filled his heart
with a glow that could not soon be effaced ;
and as they journeyed on, supporting each
other’s steps, and overcoming together the
difficulties of the way, the sunbeam fell with
unchanging brightness before them, and filled
the breast of each with hopeful joy.
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. . 82
And when they atcived at length at the
enttage of Conrad’s mother, the good woman
received them with open arms and glad tears
of joy, while the fairy sunbeam fell upon the
hearts of all.
The little boy and girl soon gained employ-
ment, and were beloved by all who came
within their influence. The cottage became
the abode of industry and content; and when
years sped on, and Conrad and Serena were
married, and had a cottage of their own, the
crystal vase occupied an honourable place
beside their books of devotion, and the fairy
sunbeam filled their home as with a glory.
It is said that the crystal vase descended to
many generations, but was broken at last, and
the fairy sunbeam escaping, mingled itself
with the glad sunshine that falls everywhere
on earth. We can feel its influence still in
the bright spring-time; but happy is he whose
heart knows the glow of the fairy sunbeam,
for he carries perpetual summer in his breast.
54 THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
**And now,†said Aunt Elsie, looking about
her with a smile as she ceased, “the fairy
sunbeam seems to have shed its influence
over you all; therefore, you will certainly be
able to tell me what it is called.â€
*T think it must be cheerfulness,†sug-
gested Edith, gently; “for there seems to be
none but bright faces here.â€
“To be sure it is,†cried the little girls.
after a pause; “how dull we were not to
find that out at once!â€
“T like that story much,†added Arthur,
“for it is better at any time to. be hopeful
than sad.â€
“Why, it is the easiest thing in the world
to be cheerful,†cried Kate; “but I never
thought before what a fine thing it is: it
seems to make others happy as well as one’s
self.â€
“It is not quite so easy to be always
cheerful, as you seem to imagine, Kate,†re-
plied Fred Lee: “just wait a while until
THE FAIRY SUNBEAM. §5
some trouble comes over you, and see whether
your fairy sunbeam will shed so bright a
light as Serena’s.â€
“We will at least hope it may,†now spoke
Aunt Elsie; “for a cheerful spirit does much
to aid us in supporting the ills and trials
which beset our path of life; but remember,
it must be cheerfulness proceeding from a
good conscience and pure intentions; like the
fairy sunbeam. the vase which holds it must
be crystal.â€
“TI thank you so much for your pretty
story. I was a little cloud this morning,
but I mean to be asunbeam now,†whispered
Lilie, drawing near Aunt Elsie.
« Aunt Elsie’s lovely story must have con-
tained a sunbeam,†returned Clara, smilling,
since it has dispersed all clouds.â€
“ There is sunshine both without and with-
in now,†cried Harry Wilder, as a bright ray
parted the clouds, and beamed into the room.
The children had been too much interested
.
au THE FAIRY SUNBEAM.
to notice the rapid dispersion of the clouds,
which now rolled back in heavy masses from
the setting sun, whose golden beams fell upon
the rain-drops that yet trembled in the flower-
cups, and made them sparkle like precious
‘gems.
The little party eagerly stepped forth on
the broad piazza to enjoy the sunset.
“We shall have a fine day to-morrow,â€
said Robert; “but it will be too damp in
the woods for Aunt Elsie, I fear, after this
soaking rain.â€
“We will postpone our day im the
woods,†answered Mabel, “until the sun
has thoroughly dried the moisture from
the ground.â€
“ And in the mean time the fairy sunbeam
of cheerfulness must dry up our tears of dis-
appointment,†added Harry Wilder.
“I am very much afraid that Dinah’s nice
pot-cheese will dry up before our pic-nic
takes place; and that will be a disappoint-
IDA’S EXPERIMENT. 57
ment which even my cheerfulness cannot
overcome,†said Fred Lee, dolefully.
The children laughed ; and Edith replied,
“We will provide against such a disap-
pointment, Fred, by having your favourite
pot-cheese for tea, with Dinah’s permission.â€
So saying, she hastened away, and the bell
soon after summoned the little people to their
evening repast.
Music and pleasant converse closed the
day ; and Jong after the sun had set behind
the hills, the bright beam of cheerfulness
shed a glow upon the happy group who were
gathered in the dear old parlour.
CHAPTER III.
Ifow gloriously the morning dawned upon
the freshened earth! There was something
exhilarating in the delicious cool breeze that:
58 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
came laden with the grateful incense of
many flowers. The trees swayed their
branches gently to and fro with a soft, rust-
ling sound, while the little birds seemed to
find new inspiration in the pleasant freshness
of all things about them, and sung, in gleeful
notes, their merriest songs.
Even the faithful cows expressed their
delight in the green pastures by gently low-
ing; while the old barn-yard fathers crowed
forth their shrill morning greetings with
determined energy; and the motherly hens,
followed by their noisy broods, went eagerly
about, picking up the earth-worms which the
rain had brought from the ground.
The spirit of joy was abroad upon the earth,
and all things shared in its enlivening influ-
ence.
Our little party were gathered upon the
piazza, well provided with sun-bonnets and
thick shoes, ready for a ramble, and unde-
terred by the prospect of muddy clothes or
IDA’S EXPERIMENT. 59
wet feet. Aunt Elsie stood smiling in the
doorway; and, after many charges to avoid
miry places, and take good heed to the little
ones, the joyous group set forth, their merry
voices and musical laughter chiming with
the songs of the birds as they went.
It was dinner-time when they returned,
looking rather travel-soiled, to be sure, but
with glowing, happy faces, and elastic step,
their bonnets fantastically decorated with
small green branches, and their hands filled
with wild-flowers.
There was a great demand for cool water
and clean towels; and after a half hour of
preparation, the young party assembled in
the dining-room, with white collars, neat
dresses, and smooth hair, showing no trace of
their recent long ramble, save in the flush
that yet lingered upon some of the bright
fair faces.
After dinner they all repaired to the piazza,
which was their favourite resort in the after~
60 1pA’s EXPERIMENT.
noon. It was low and broad, extending
around two sides of the house, with a wide
flight of steps on either side, one of which
led into the garden, and the other down upon
the soft green lawn in front of the house.
The pillars that supported its roof were draped
with sweet-brier, and the exquisite running-
rose, whose hardy and beautiful flowers
were sometimes seen even after snow covered
the ground. In summer the long branches
twined themselves about the balustrade, or
hung in rich festoons between the pillars;
while jessamine, honeysuckle, and other deli-
cate creeping vines mingled their fragrant
blossoms with the rich clusters of roses, and
altogether formed graceful garlands which
sent forth a delicious perfume on the breeze.
The children loved to train up the morn-
ing-glories and slender vines, whose fragile
tendrils seemed to sway so helplessly about,
seeking for something to which they might
cling; and the boys tied pieces of strong twine
The omfidren loved to “train up the morning-glories and slender
vines, whose fragile tendrils seemed to sway so helplessly about, we :
ing tar something to to which they might cling.— Page 60.
'
1DA’S EXPERIMENT. 61
to the balustrade, and fastened them up to
nails which they drove in the edge of the
roof, while the little girls carefully disen-
tangled the fibres, and taught them to twine
about the support thus provided.
The delicate vines were very apt scholars,
and climbed with surprising rapidity up to
the roof of the piazza, sending forth lateral
shoots like arms, which they twined as they
went, as if endeavouring to assist each other
in their ascent, and then upon reaching the
top, looked noddingly down, as though they
would say, “We have gone as far as we could,
but would like to climb a little higher.â€
Very ambitious vines they were, and some
of them even scrambled over the roof, and
came peeping in at the upper windows, form-
ing, with theit pretty fresh leaves, a lattice
of wonderful beauty.
Aunt Elsie’s favourite high-backed chair
was placed just at the angle of the piazza ;
for seated there, the good old lady could feel
62 IDA’B EXPERIMENT.
the soft south wind as it came wafted over
the garden, gathering sweet odours as it
passed, while between the fine old trees that
stood upon the lawn, she caught glimpses of
the placid waters of the pond as as it basked in
the sunshine.
The children gathered upon the steps, or
strolled through the garden, while Aunt Elsie
indefatigably pursued her knitting-work.
‘What a delightful ramble we have had,â€
said Ellen Lee, as she seated herself at Aunt
Elsie’s feet; “every thing seems so fresh after
the rain, and the woods smell so sweet!â€
“Yes,†added Edward Sutherland; “and
did you ever see so many birds? how I
wished for nry bow and arrows!â€
“They would not have done much execu-
tion, Ned,†answered Harry Wilder, with a
smile: “you would need to be a second
William Tell to shoot with an arrow a bird
upon the wing.â€
“TI am sure it would be very wicked to
IDa’s EXPERIMENT, 63
shoot them at all,†returned Lilie; “when
they seemed to be so very happy.â€
“It does, indeed, appear cruel sport,†re-
plied Aunt Elsie. “I once had a friend whe
wounded a robin in the wing, and the poor
thing’s piteous cries so moved his compassion,
that he carried it home, where his wife bound
up the wounded wing, bracing it with pieces
of quill: they put the bird in a basket, and
the little thing seemed grateful, and conscious
of the kindness. It recovered at last, and
they set it free; but it hovered about the
house for a long while, eating the crumbs
which were thrown out. Its companions
wooed it away after atime, but my friend
never shot a bird afterwards.â€
“I was wishing, this morning, to be a
bird,†cried merry Kate Lee; “‘it seemed so
delightful to have wings, and be able to fly
away up 8o far above the trees. I never
thought of the chances of being shot, though;
but after this I shall feel quite contented to
64 IDA’S EXPERIMENT,
walk on the ground, without fear of Ned’s
bow and arrows.â€
“We saw so many bright yellow butter-
flies,†said Marian, “flying from flower to
flower, that I quite longed to join them ; they
seemed to be playing some kind of game, for
they darted after each other, and seemed to
enjoy the chase so much.â€
“I don’t join you in that wish,†replied
her brother Arthur, smoothing her bright
hair, and smiling as he spoke; “for I hope
to see my little sister Marian something more
than a mere butterfly.â€
“Tt is surprising what an effect the rain
has had,†said Fred Lee, in a sentimental
tone; “for my part, when I saw the quantities
of speckled grasshopper, with their long legs
frisking about, I sighed to be one of them!â€
“Now, Fred, you are quizzing us,†re-
turned Ellen, as all the children burst into a
laugh; and even Aunt Elsie smiled at his
droll manner. “You know very well you
rpa’8s EXPERIMENT. 65
would rather be just the tormenting boy that
you are; for if you were a grasshopper, we
would tie a string to your leg, and try and
bring you into better subjection.â€
“TI submit to your better judgment, and
am content to remain as I am—your humble
cousin,†rejoined Fred, bowing with mock
solemnity.
-“Well,†said Grace, smiling, “since so
many have told their wishes, I will add mine
to the list; for I thought this morning I
should like to be a flower, they seemed to
enjoy the sunshine and the breeze so much.â€
“ Not more than we did ourselves, I think,â€
added Edith.
“ No,†replied Grace, “I do not mean
that they did, but they looked so happy
and beautiful.â€
0, who would wish to be a flower,
To bloom and perish in an hour?â€
shouted Fred.
“If they could think,†said Aunt Elsie,
B
66 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
“the hour would probably seem as long to
them as a lifetime to us, for in it is comprised
all they can know of cloud or sunshine.â€
“True, they have to bear the heat of noon
and the drenching rains, and sometimes get
broken off their stems by the wet,†remarked
Clara.
“Why, it seems to me, every thing has
something to worry about,†cried Kate.
*‘ The birds are in danger of being shot, the
butterflies of being caught and spitted alive
on great pins, and even the flowers must
burn up in the sun, or be drowned in rain.
I think, after all, we are as well off as any of
them, though we have troubles too.â€
“You are growing quite a philosopher,
Kate,†returned Fred, teasingly: “pray what
have you to trouble you?â€
“You!†rejoined the little girl, laughing ;
‘and the grasshoppers may be thankful you
are not among them.â€
Little Lilie took no part in the conversa-
Ipa’s EXPERIMENT, ‘67
tion, but laid her curly head upon Aunt
Elsie’s knee; she waited until a pause oc-
curred, then drawing the old lady’s face down
to her own, whispered,
“I am so very tired, dear Aunt Elsie,
won’t you please tell us a story.â€
“But perhaps my other little people don’t
care about it, Lilie,†she replied. ‘It is so
fine that they may wish to walk.â€
“Oh, no, Aunt Elsie, dear Aunt Elsie, we
had walked enough this morning,†cried Kate,
who overheard the remark; “nothing would
be so delightful as a story.â€
The rest of the party joined in this opinion ;
and the indulgent old lady went intothe house,
and, opening the old bookcase, returned in a
few moments with a manuscript in her hand.
The children, meanwhile, placed seats for
themselves; and when Aunt Elsie was again
comfortably seated, she read to them the
story of
68 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
Sho’s Experiment.
“Heigho! how pleasant it is to be out in
the woods all day,†sighed little Ida, as she
threw herself upon a grassy bank by the
brookside. “I don’t see the use of being
mewed up in the house these warm bright
days, when the woods are so shady and cool.
Heigho !â€
Ida was a little girl who dearly loved the
flowers and glad sunshine. She was only
happy when roaming about at will, chasing
the gayly-painted butterflies, or making, with
her own merry voice, an echo to the song of
the uncaged birds.
Very pleasant it would have been to pass
whole days in this manner, but Ida had
duties to perform—as who has not? What
is there in the whole earth so insignificant as
to say, with truth, “I am of no use?†Every
dew-drop has its peculiar mission to fulfil ;
IpA’s EXPERIMENT. 69
and each tiny snow-flake falls to the ground
to assist in accomplishing some great purpose.
But Ida never thought of all this. Her
mother, she knew, talked to her of duties,
and often kept her in-doors, performing dis-
agreeable tasks, which seemed to the little
girl of trifling importance, when she would
fain have been out in the fresh green fields.
She knew not that her first duty was obedi-
ence, and therefore was frequently ill-tem-
pered and perverse.
It was a lovely summer afternoon, and
Ida, having finished her tasks, was permitted
to go out into the fields) The day had been
intensely warm, but now a soft gentle breeze
sprang up, and the flowers began to lift their
drooping heads that had shrunk from the
bright gaze of the sun. Little Ida ran about
delighted with the sense of freedom from re-
straint ; but at length, becoming weary, she
threw herself upon the grass and sighed,
“ Heigho!â€
70 1ba’s EXPERIMENT.
“Oh, dear,†murmured the little girl, after
along revery ; “how I wish there was no
such thing as work in the world; at any rate,
for a little girl like me! I don’t see that [
am of any use, and yet mother will keep me
in all day. I wish I could live out of doors
always. Pretty daisies,†she continued, ad-
dressing a tuft of flowers that grew at her
feet, “do you know I envy you? for you
have no duties to perform, and nothing in the
world to do but to live in the sunshine and
look charming. Yes, I wish I could be like
â€
you.
It was certainly very strange, but just as
Ida spoke these words, the little daisies began
nodding to her in the drollest manner imagi-
nable; and then she saw that the flowers
were lovely little faces : the stems and leaves
assumed human forms, and soon they were a
little troop of fairies, who joined hands and
danced about her, singing, in soft musical
tones.
IDA'3 EXPERIMENT, 71
“ Sisters bright make room, make room,
A new flower comes to bud and bloom.
To weep with the rain-drops, to smile with the sun,
And wither, and fade, when her task is done.â€
As they circled round, repeating these
words, Ida felt herself descending into the
ground, the song died away upon. her ear,
and she remained in utter darkness. The
little girl did not feel at all frightened,
but wondered very much what would hap-
pen next. She waited a while in expecta-
tion, and then cried out, “I am tired of
staying here in the dark. I want to see the
light.â€
“ Be quiet,†said a tiny voice close at her
side, “and wait until the snow melts a
little, and the earth is thawed. You could
not get out now if you were to try.â€
Ida turned around in astonishment at this
speech, but she could see nothing in the
dark ; so she asked,
“Who are you, and how came you here?
Tam a little girl and my name is Ida.â€
72 1pa’8 EXPERIMENT.
“ What a droll conceit,†replied the voice,
with a merry little laugh. “You are no-
thing more nor less than a flower-seed, like
myself. By and by we will come up out of
the ground, and bloom in the sunshine.â€
“ But how long will it be before we leave
this gloomy place?†asked the little girl,
who now began to realize that she had gained
her wish, and was actually to be a flower ;
“I can't say that I like being a seed at
all.â€
“Why, you cannot be a flower without
first being a seed,†returned the other.
“There are plenty of us here, waiting for
the Spring to set us free: don’t be impa-
tient, she will come in good time.â€
Ida remained quiet for some time, and
then again asked, “How can you lie so con-
tentedly in this dark place?â€
It is our duty,†answered the tiny voice,
shortly ; for the little girl’s talking annoyed
him,
1DA’s EXPERIMENT. 73
* Why! do you use that hateful word
too? she replied. ‘I thought the flowers
had no duties : but I am so tired of staying
here: how do you know the Spring will
come? are you sure?â€
* We trust,†returned the other. And to
all her complaints Ida received no other
reply.
At length she heard a strange musical
sound, and found that the seeds were slowly
forcing their way through the earth. She
gladly moved upward, too ; and so impatient
was she, that she was the first to burst from
the ground, and look about her.
“T am so glad to get out of that ugly
prison,†soliloquized the little girl. ‘ How
pleasant and warm the sunshine feels, though
the snow has not quite melted yet. It is so
droll: I see that I am surrounded by tiny
green leaves, and yet I know that Iam Ida
still. Well, I wonder what will happen
next.â€
74 Ipa’s EXPERIMENT.
Presently a cold wind blew over her, and
in the night came frost and pinched her
leaves ; so that poor Ida looked quite droop-
ing for several days, but she gradually re-
vived; and then, when she found herself
really expanding into a flower, her delight
knew no bounds.
“ What a lovely pink colour I am!†she
said to herself. “Every one will admire
me, Iam sure. I think I am even prettier
than my neighbours. How delightful it is
to be a flower! no lessons to learn, and
nothing at all to do but bloom and be ad-
mired!†And she lifted her head proudly
and swayed gracefully upon the breeze.
“Take care,†said one of her neighbours,
as he bent over towards her: “if you thrust
yourself so far out upon the road some one
will trample upon you.â€
Ida withdrew her head in alarm. “How
do you know we will not be crushed even
here?†she asked, anxiously.
1DA’S EXPERIMENT. 73
“We trust,†replied the other, and then
was still,
“It is so very cold,†murmured the little
girl, as she folded her leaves tightly over her
breast one frosty night. “Why do you
not wait till warmer weather before you
bloom?â€
“We come when Spring calls us, to give
sign of her approach,†said the other.
“ But although it is dark in the ground,
it is at least warm,†she rejoined, ‘ Why
should you obey the Spring?â€
* Because it is our duty,†said the little
flower, as he closed his eyes.
“ Duty, duty,†murmured Ida, as she fell
asleep: but the next morning, when she
awoke, she found herself covered with dew-
drops, that sparkled like diamonds in the
sun.
“ How beautiful I am to-day!†she ex-
claimed in delight. “See how lovely my
leaves appear, shining through these dia-
76 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
monds that adorn them: every one must
behold me with admiration now.â€
As she spoke, a farmer’s boy came whist-
ling along; but although she thrust herself
so far forward that his foot brushed off
some of the diamond dew-drops, he did not
notice her in the least, but strolled care-
lessly on.
By and by the sun climbed high up in the
sky, and looked down upon the flowers so
steadily with his flaming eye, that they
quailed and shrunk beneath his scorching
beams. Poor little Ida felt unable to sup-
port herself. Her head dropped languidly,
and she could scarcely breathe. There was
not the slightest air stirring in that sultry
noon, and still the great sun sent down his
burning rays upon the earth.
“T shall die,†murmured the little girl.
“If I had known how the flowers suffer
with heat, I never would have wished to be
one of them. How pleasant and cool it is
EDA’S EXPERIMENT. 7
now in mother’s shaded room, if I only was
there again; but now I shall die.â€
A flower, who grew at her side, overheard
her murmuring, and spoke, though faintly,
for she too was drooping in the sun.
“Yes, we often wither thus with heat ;
but then, you know, we must do our duty;
we shall revive at night; and though we
suffer, yet we trust.â€
The last words were scarcely heard by
poor Ida, who sank exhausted to the earth.
Presently heavy black clouds rushed across
the sky, and shut out the beams of the sun;
and then plash, plash came the large rain-
drops upon the leaves and the parched earth;
and then the flowers lifted their languid
heads and felt revived. But the rain poured
down still faster, until they were forced to
bend beneath its rushing weight, and little
Ida was now in great fear of being drowned.
The wind tossed the flowers about most
rudely, and they bruised themselves against
48 IpA’s EXPERIMENT.
each other: some of them were torn from
their stems by the force of the shower, and
poor Ida trembled in affright.
* Oh, this is more dreadful than all,†she
cried. “TI shall certainly be broken to pieces
in this tempest. Why should flowers be so
exposed, and suffer so much?â€
“We do our duty,†was the murmured
reply that reached her, borne on the blast
“and for the rest we trust.â€
At last the rain ceased, the clouds began
to separate, and the sun again smiled down
upon the earth. The birds left their nests,
and sang joyously, and all things revived.
Little Ida, though bruised and shorn of
some green leaves, yet felt very much re-
freshed. But there remained one rain-drop
in her heart: the wind had blown a long
branch, thick with clustering leaves, just
before her, and the setting sun could not
reach her behind the leafy screen. So, while
the other flowers were gayly lifting their
1DA’S EXPERIMENT. 79
heads, and basking in his beam, poor Ida
trembled beneath the weight of the rain-drop.
“How unfortunate I am,†she sighed,
repiningly. ‘The sun has dried all the rain
from the other flowers; while I must sink
beneath this weight through all the long
night.â€
Then she folded her leaves and slept ; but
when the morning sun gleamed down once
more, the rain-drop shone like a diamond
upon her breast.
When the scorching noonday beam again
shone down, the flowers paled and withered
as before; but the drop which rested in Ida’s
breast strengthened and refreshed her, so
that she did not shrink from the sun’s ray,
but lifted her head firmly. The moisture
dried up from her heart, but little Ida had
learned a new truth.
« Ah! I understand now,†she exclaimed,
“that what seems to be very disagreeable at
first, is all for our good after all. Had it not
80 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
been for that drop of rain, I might have
withered in the sun. After this, so long as
I live, I will remember to do my duty, and
trust.â€
All the flowers applauded loudly at this.
And as the humming, rustling noise in-
creased, a strange thrill passed through little
Ida: her bright leaves fell to the ground,
and lo and behold, she was lying upon the
grass at the brookside, with the tuft of
daisies blooming at her side!
Her first impulse was to bend over the
water, and there she beheld the reflection of
her own astonished face. There could be no
doubt she ad been a flower, but was now
little Ida again.
“You have taught me a fine lesson,†she
cried, turning to the daisies, “and one that
I shall not soon forget. I am quite con-
tented to remain just the little girl that I
am, and shall never wish to be a flower again.
Don’t you approve my decision?â€
1pA’S EXPERIMENT. _ 81
But the little daisies looked perfectly un-
conscious, and stared steadily up at the sky,
never vouchsafing so much as a nod in reply.
“Oh, it is all very well for you to make
believe you don’t understand me,†persisted
little Ida; “but I shall not forget your ad-
vice, we do our duty, and trust,†she whis-
pered, with a triumphant air. “ Do you re-
member the words?â€
But the perverse little daisies did not seem
to hear, and never even moved a leaf.
“Well, well,†laughed Ida, as she ran
home; “if you don’t remember them, I do,
and mean to live after them besides.â€
And so she did; and though she loved the
wuods and flowers as well as ever, she never
murmured at her tasks; and so grew to be a
good and happy girl. But though she often
stopped to talk to the daisies, not one of them
ever deigned a reply; they had evidently cut
her acquaintance.
82 IDA’S EXPERIMENT.
* What a droll story!†exclaimed Kate,
as Aunt Elsie concluded: “I like it so
much, I declare I almost envy Ida her expe-
riment, after all.â€
“ For my part I am quite content to profit
by her experience,†returned Ellen.
“The lesson it teaches may profit us all, I
think,†added Arthur: “to do our duty, and
trust the result to Providence.â€
** And tobe content with the part assigned
us,†said Grace. “I am decidedly of Ida’s
opinion now, and shall never wish to be a
flower again.â€
“ Who would ever think of learning wis-
dom from the flowers?†remarked Robert.
“Why not?†returned Edith, smiling.
“ As the bee gathers honey from them, may
we not also get wisdom?â€
“Wisdom is not always like honey,
though,†replied Fred; “for when bought
by experience, it is apt to be bitter.â€
“ There you are mistaken, Fred,†answered
IDA’S EXPERIMENT. 83
Harry: “it is the experience that is bitter,
and not the wisdom: it is the fault of the
bee, if the honey is not properly cleared;
but we ought to be very wise with so many
teachers about us.â€
He looked towards Aunt Elsie as he spoke,
and the old lady said:
“We ought, indeed, Harry, for it seems
to be ordained by the Creator, that all things
should constantly teach us the ways of wis-
dom and truth. Nature in her many voices
is ever sending lessons to the heart, and you
remember the words of Solomon, ‘ Go to the
ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and
be wise.’ Since, then, we may learn great
truths from even the insects and the flowers,
let us not fail to improve the lessons they
teach; but earnestly strive to walk with that
wisdom, ‘whose ways are ways of pleasant-
a
ness, and all whose paths are peace.
84 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
CHAPTER IV.
“Comsr, Robert, awake,†cried Edward
Sutherland, arousing his brother early one
fine summer morning: “ this is the day we
are to spend at Mr. Helme’s, and if you
don’t hurry you will be too late for break-
fast, which is an hour earlier, you know.â€
Robert started hastily up. “ I had well-
nigh overslept myself,†he said; “ but what
a glorious morning it is! we shall have a
grand time, I expect.â€
The boys hastened to dress themselves in
their good suits, and had scarcely finished
when the breakfast bell sounded, and they
hurried down stairs, where they found their
companions all neatly dressed, and full of
pleasant anticipations for the day.
Breakfast was soon over, and then the old
family coach stood at the door; but large as
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 85
it was, it could scarcely accommodate all the
little people, and so one of the farm waggons
was put in requisition, and into this the boys
gaily sprang, while the little girls occupied
the coach.
Aunt Elsie was not of the party: she pre-
ferred remaining quietly at home, as she
knew that her young people were all well
bred, and would behave with perfect pro-
priety. The younger children were under
the guidance of Edith and Harry, who, she
felt satisfied, would restrain them should their
mirthfulness threaten to pass due bounds.
The young party were on their way to
pass the day at Rookwood, a beautiful place
some five miles distant from Woodleigh.
The owner, Mr. Helme, was an old friend
of Aunt Elsie’s, and a most excellent man.
He was a bachelor of unobtrusive habits,
and had the reputation of being eccentric.
One of his peculiarities was a fondness for
children: he delighted in gathering them
86 THE GOLDEN ROOT, ANDY
about him, and making them happy. He
had several nieces and nephews, who alter-
nately resided with him, and his large and
elegant house was usually filled with young
company. Aunt Elsie’s little people were
always great favourites, for he knew none
would be invited to pass the time with her,
who were not well behaved and intelligent ;
but little Frank Field was very dear to the
good old man, and he with Aunt Elsie fre-
quently spoke of adopting the little orphaned
brother and sister between them. Aunt
Elsie already loved little Lillie as her own,
and Mr. Helme liked to have Frank always
with him. The children’s relatives, how-
ever, would have to be consulted; but the
greatest obstacle to this plan was the sepa-
ration of Frank from his sister, to whom he
was devotedly attached.
We will leave kind Mr. Helme and the dear
Aunt Elsie to think over these things, while
we go with the juvenile party to Rookwood.
‘TIE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 87
Some of the children had never visited
there before; and many were the exclama-
tions of delight that burst from the group,
as they beheld so many new beauties.
It was, indeed, as lovely a spot as nature,
aided by taste and wealth, could make. The
house itself was large, well arranged, and
elegantly furnished; but the surrounding
grounds were the owner’s just pride, and the
admiration of all who visited them.
The garden was very large, and tastefully
laid out in different-shaped beds, with white
gravelled walks between. The flowers were
of the choicest kind, cultivated to the highest
state of perfection; and so chosen, that from
the earliest dawn of spring, until winter had
fairly come and frozen the ground quite hard,
the garden was always bright with the flowers
of the season; and it was easy to cull from it
a bouquet of rich and varied flowers.
In the centre of some of the flower-beds
were graceful fountains, that sent sparkling
88 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
drops of spray upon the plants in grateful
showers ; and in one part of the grounds you
came unexpectedly upon a little pond, where
numbers of gold and silver fish sported in
undisturbed security, while an old tree that
had stood the storms of centuries, bent its
gnarled branches protectingly above.
Then there were fine orchards of fruit,
and several acres of woodland, through which
many little streams rippled softly amid the
dried leaves ; and what particularly attracted
the children’s attention, was a fine clump of
boxwood, that tradition said had stood there
since long before the Revolution, and beneath
whose shade a wounded soldier had concealed
himself from pursuit. The little birds built
their nests among its foliage now, and several
of the children seated themselves beneath
the thick branches, which formed quite an
arbour above them.
The young party had so much to see and
admire, that they were surprised when
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 89
luncheon was announced ; and following their
kind entertainer they came to a long arbour,
covered with grape-vines, and here the
noonday repast was laid. There were plenty
of rich ripe strawberries and sweet fresh
cream, with other and more substantial good
things, of which the children partook heartily,
for the morning ride and long stroll had won-
derfully increased their appetites.
Then afterwards they repaired to the
smooth green lawn, where a fine swing was
erected, and a small target placed, with
plenty of bows and arrows for the boys to
try their skill) In a small summer-honse
were found grace-rings, battle-dores, balls,
and jumping-ropes, which the young party
severally appropriated, and were soon eagerly
engaged in the various games.
They did not leave until after tea, and a
ride home by moonlight completed what had
truly been a day of pleasure.
The following day was showery; but the
90 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
children were so full of bright recollections
of yesterday’s enjoyment, that they did not
desire to walk out, but continually dwelt
upon the many delightful things which had
occurred in their previous visit.
“Such a day of enjoyment as we had!â€
cried Kate, who was always the first to
speak: “every thing happened just as it
ought; and Mr. Helme was so kind !â€
“ It was, indeed, a most delightful visit,â€
returned Mabel, “and Rookwood is a lovely
spot; there is so much taste displayed every-
where.â€
“It is the loveliest place in the world, I
am sure,†cried Ellen and Marian both in a
breath.
“Except dear Woodleigh,†returned little
Lilie, “ which I love so much better. I am
sure it is quite as pleasant as Rookwood.â€
“ But not quitesogrand, Lilie,†said Robert.
“What large rooms Mr Helme has there; and
av richly furnished, too! I almost envy him.â€
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 9]
“T should like to have permission to read
the books in his library,†returned Arthur:
“he has many valuable works, and must be
a man of taste and education.â€
“And I never should weary of walking
through that beautiful garden,†added Grace.
“I never saw so many lovely flowers.â€
* Yes,†added Clara; ‘‘and do you know,
Aunt Elsie, they are so arranged that when
one flower fades, another opens, so that one
or the other is constantly blooming ?â€
“It was Linneus, I believe, who once in-
vented a dial that told the time, by the open-
ing and closing of the flowers. Mr. Helme
has followed his idea,†remarked Arthur.
“ And a lovely idea it was,†returned
Edith. “Do you remember those beautiful
lines of Mrs. Hemans, the last verse of
which is,—
‘Oh, let us live, so that flower by flower,
Shutting in turn may leave
A lingerer still for the twilight hour,
A charm for the shaded eve,’ â€
92 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
“Well,†cried Fred, “I confess to liking
the bows and arrows, and balls, quite as well
as anything else ; but as for Frank, when I
wanted him to join in a game, he had stolen
off and was nowhere to be found ; but I be-
lieve Harry caught him afterwards, sitting
alone in the woods. You are a queer fellow,
Frank: you don’t care for play like other
boys.â€
Yes, I do,†replied little Frank, slightly
colouring ; “but you know, Fred, I am not
so strong as you are. I was tired yester-
day; and besides, I like to sit alone in the
woods, and listen to the wind among the
leaves.â€
*©So do I, Frank,†added Arthur, with a
kind smile.
“ Yes,†interrupted Harry Wilder, “ and
so do I, although I am not given to day-
dreams ; but I think there never was any
thing more glorious than the sunset-sky
yesterday, and nothing more delightful than «
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 93
the stroll Franky and I took through the
woods, homeward.â€
“Iam very glad you enjoyed yourselves
so well, my dear children,†now spoke Aunt
Elsie, who had been an amused and inter-
ested listener, as the little group expressed
their several tastes; “and I trust your visit
was a source of equal pleasure to my good
friend Mr. Helme, who must have taken
every trouble to afford you gratification.â€
“That he did,†.cried all at once.
“He is so merry,†added Kate ; “and
‘swung me so high !â€
** Yes, and joined in our games of ball and
battledoor,†continued Edward.
“He is very kind and gentle, besides,â€
said Frank: “he talked a good while with
me, and showed me many books and pic-
tures.â€
“He must be very rich,†remarked
Robert, “to have so many elegant things.
Is he not, Aunt Elsie ?â€
94 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
‘* Yes,†returned the old lady ; “he isa
man of wealth; and what is more, he is
what is called a ‘ self-made’ man; that is, he
earned all that he now possesses: he was
once a poor boy.â€
“Was he?†cried all the children; and
Harry said—
‘He must be very talented, then, to have
made so much money in so short a time, for
he is not very old now; or else, perhaps, he
speculated largely.â€
“Neither,†replied Aunt Elsie. “Ihave |
known him all my life, and he has never
been accounted very talented; nor has he
been what is called a speculator, though
doubtless he invested his money to the best
advantage. No, the ‘little brown seed’ has
been at the bottom of all his wonderful suc-
cess.â€
‘That has something to do with a fairy
story, I know,†cried Kate, exultingly.
“Ts the little brown seed in the old port-
. FIIE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 95
folio?†asked Lilie, starting up with dancing
eyes; “and may I go and find it ?â€
“Do, pray, Aunt Elsie,†implored several
voices: “let us find out the secret of Mr.
Helme’s wealth.â€
“So that we may profit by it,†cried Fred
Lee. “Dear Aunt Elsie, allow me the
pleasure,†he continued, and darting into the
room, returned in a moment with the old
portfolio, which, with a low bow, he pre-
sented.
Aunt Elsie smiled, and opening the port-
folio, selected a manuscript, saying, as she
unfolded it, this is the story of
Cr Galten Amt,
AND
Che Little Brome Seek.
A poor man was dying, and beside him
stood his two sons weeping bitterly, for they
96 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
knew that after their father was taken away,
they should be quite alone in the world.
The poor man pitied the grief of his chil-
dren, and tried to comfort them: then
taking a small box from beneath his pillow,
said faintly
“ My sons, this box contains all the posses-
sions I have to leave you : in it you will find
a golden root, and a little brown seed, either
of which, if properly planted and watered,
will grow into a great tree, and finally make
you a fortune.
“To you, Hansel, as the elder, I give the
golden root: if planted in the right soil, it
will grow rapidly, and bear golden fruit more
beautiful than jewels, and far more precious
beside: while the little brown seed, which
falls to your share, Wilhelm, though it will
need much care, and grow more slowly than
your brother’s root, will eventually produce
rich good fruit; less brilliant that Hansel’s,
but very valuable.
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 97
“It will be well, my dear children, if
you plant your trees side by side, and cul-
tivate them together; it will improve them
both; but should you ever determine to se-
parate, you have each the power to win pros-
perity.â€
So saying, the good father closed his eyes,
and spoke no more.
After the grief of the brothers had sub-
sided, they opened the box, and Hansel
eagerly grasped the golden root, which was
to bring him such good fortune. It was
apparently a piece of solid gold, of an un-
finished shape, and could be easily bent in
the hand. Wilhelm greatly admired his
brother’s treasure, and then earnestly sought
in the box for the little brown seed. It was
some time before he could find it; but he
espied it at last lying in the corner of the
box, and looking for all the world like an
insignificant peppercorn. As he placed it on
the palm of his hand with rather a disap-
G
98 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
pointed air, Hansel burst into a loud laugh,
and exclaimed—
“It will be many a long day before your
treasure brings a fortune, Wilhelm: why,
that tiny seed can never grow into a tree.â€
Wilhelm made no reply, though inclined
to agree with his brother, and he was tempted
to envy Hansel, who exultingly displayed
his golden root.
“It is something to possess, even should
I never plant it,†he cried : “every one will
think me rich who sees this lump of gold.â€
“But it is better to be rich, than merely
to seem so,†returned his brother. ‘“ You
had better follow our father’s advice, and
plant the root immediately: then you will
reap the golden fruit all the sooner, you
know.â€
But Hansel thought he had time enough,
and so went around among the neighbours
exhibiting his golden root, which was to
bring him a fortune. The neighbours all
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED, $0
admired it exceedingly, and some envied
him, but others said,
“Hansel gives himself high airs on ac-
count of the golden root ; but what use will
it be if not planted in time?â€
Meanwhile, Wilhelm arose very early, and
sought a spot in the miserable little garden
patch, where the morning sun fell warm and
bright: here, after thoroughly digging up
the earth, and breaking the lumps with
his spade, he carefully planted the little
brown seed, and fenced it around with tall
pointed sticks to prevent it being scratched
up or trodden upon; he then watered it
plentifully, and feeling satisfied that he had
performed his part, sat down to rest.
Presently Hansel joined him.
‘So you have planted your seed already,â€
he said. “ Well, it will take so long to grow,
if it ever does at all, that you do right to be
up betimes. However, my root may as well
be planted also: since you have already had
100 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
some experience, Wilhelm, suppose you plant
it for me.â€
‘With all my heart,†replied the other,
and forthwith dug up the earth in a spot
which Hansel selected, and prepared the
ground to receive the precious root: he then
planted and watered it, as he had previously
done his own.
The two boys could not live upon air while
the wonderful trees were growing; and there-
fore obtained employment, which just sufficed
to bring them a scanty support. Wilhelm
worked steadily : he knew it would be a long
time before his tree bore any fruit, even if it
grew and flourished ; and in the mean time
he must take care of himself. Hansel, on the
contrary, often indulged in idle dreams of
the wonderful fortune his golden root would
bring, and was far less industrious than his
brother.
Every evening after his work was done,
Wilhelm carefully watered the little brown
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 10)
seed, and for several days Hansel did the
same: neither root nor seed, however, gave
any signs of life, and Hansel grew careless,
but Wilhelm persevered.
Upon going into the garden one morning,
Wilhelm, to his great delight, observed a tiny
green shoot forcing its way through the
ground. He uttered an exclamation of plea-
sure, and called his brother to look. When
Hansel saw that the little seed had surely
sprouted, he ran to his golden root, expect-
ing to find quite a tall shoot there; but to
his great chagrin, there was no appearance of
life about it, and the ground was baked dry
and hard with the heat of the sun.
He felt that this was owing to his own
carelessness, and hastened to water the root,
consoling himself with the reflection, that
when once fairly started, it would soon out-
strip his brother's.
A few days after he was rewarded by
seeing a little green sprout coming up, and
102 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
now felt quite elated with joy. Wilhelm,
meanwhile, never neglected his little plant ;
he kept the earth carefully loosened about
the roots, and did not allow any weeds to
grow near it; while each morning and night
he watered it plentifully. With such care
it soon grew to be a thrifty plant, and began
to shoot forth leaves. Though full of hope
for the future, Wilhelm never allowed him-
self to neglect his work, but remained as
humble and industrious as ever.
One day a sudden shower arose, accom-
panied with hail and a violent wind. Wil-
helm was at work at the time, but he trem-
bled for his precious plant, which was yet too
young to withstand the fury of the storm.
When evening came, he hurried home, and
found his worst fears realized: the wind had
snapped off its leafy top, and the hailstones
beaten it to the ground.
Tears sprang to the boy’s eyes at this sud-
den frustration of his hopes; but he wasted
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 103
no time in idle grief. Tenderly raising the
bruised stem, he supported it between splin-
ters of wood, making a framework on which
it could rest, while he carefully banked up
the earth about its roots. After a little time
the plant revived again, and soon put forth
fresh leaves and shoots.
Hansel, meantime, was far from being as
careful as Wilhelm: he thought his brother
took unnecessary trouble, and flattered him-
self that since the golden root had started,
it would grow without farther care. He
watered it irregularly, sometimes drenching it
with wet, and at others allowing it to droop
with thirst, while weeds choked its growth.
The plant grew but slowly in consequence,
and could not compare with Wilhelm’s for
freshness or strength. Hansel] was quite pro-
voked at this; and not attributing his failure
to want of proper care, imagined that the spot
in which the root was planted could not be a
favourable one, and so transplanted it to
104 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
another corner of the garden. This, of course,
retarded its growth for some time longer, and
he had the mortification of seeing his brother’s
plant far surpass his own.
Mortified that his boasted golden root
should be thus outdone by an insignificant
brown seed, he went at last diligently to
work, and soon, by watchful care, the golden
root shot vigorously up, and spread into a
tree of surpassing beauty. After a time tiny
buds appeared among the clustering leaves,
and then Hansel’s joy knew no bounds. He
felt himself already rich, and passed day after
day beneath the shade of the tree, watching
the swelling buds, and fancying he could
detect the bright golden hue of the fruit
shining through them.
While Hansel was thus prosperously pro
gressing, poor Wilhelm was doomed to trouble
and disappointment. His tree had scarcely
recovered from the shock of the hailstorm,
when a severe hurricane wrested it from the
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 105
earth by the roots, and flung it, broken and
bruised, upon the ground. But Wilhelm
would not allow himself to be disheartened :
he sought a more sheltered spot, and replanted
his tree with the greatest care: he was forced
to lop off several of the finest branches, which
were broken by the fall; and Hansel laughed
when he saw the maimed and unsightly thing,
and compared it with his own stately and
luxuriant tree.
But still Wilhelm kept up good courage,
and tended the tree with unwearied patience.
He was rewarded in the end by seeing it
again flourish, until it grew handsome and
healthy ; not so remarkably beautiful as his
brother’s, but still giving promise of abound-
ing in fruit. But though now strong, and
constantly growing, it gave no sign of bud-
ding; and it was not until very long after
the golden fruit began to glow amid the leaves
of Hansel’s tree, that little buds appeared
upon Wilhelm’s.
106 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
Week after week rolled by, and people
flocked from far and near to wonder at and
admire Hansel’s astonishing tree. Many of
the buds had withered and fallen off, to be
sure, but the few golden apples that remained
were marvellously beautiful: nothing like
them had ever been seen in that country
before.
As for poor Wilhelm, his tree attracted no
notice at all: it looked like avery fine apple-
tree, but nothing more ; and many were the
gibes and jests which his brother heaped
upon him for the time and labour he had
spent in rearing it. To all this Wilhelm
made no reply: he saw that the fruit it
bore promised to be very abundant; and
although of slow growth, gave evidence of
perfection in its kind : so he worked quietly
and hopefully on.
lt would have been wiser for Hansel had
he spent less time in admiring, and more in
cultivating his tree. While he was vainly
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 107
speculating upon the fortune it would bring
him, or idly boasting of his great possession,
the clustering foliage was completely veiling
the fruit from the warm sun; and thus, when
he expected to see an abundance of precious
golden apples, they withered and dropped off
as if blasted, until only one remained. This
one Hansel watched with a miser’s anxiety,
as day after day it ripened and glowed in the
sun like burnished gold; and his desire to
pluck it became so intense that he could
wait no longer, and one day pulled it from
the stem, anxious to determine the value of
his treasure.
The golden apple was indeed beautiful, and
seemed very valuable besides. Every one
praised it, and pronounced it pure gold; but
none was more delighted than the unselfish
Wilhelm. He was never weary of admir-
ing the precious fruit, and encouraging his
brother to take it to a dealer in rare articles,
sure that it would realize a large sum.
108 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
Hansel followed the advice, and departed,
full of high hopes; but he returned after a
time, quite disappointed. The dealer had
found many defects in the golden apple. It
was by no means so perfect as some others
which he had purchased long before: it had
been plucked too soon. He bought it, how-
ever, for a less sum than Hansel expected it
to bring; and advised him to cultivate the
tree carefully, as it would in time no doubt
yield abundant and perfect fruit.
All this was perfectly true; but Hansel
declared the soil did not suit the tree, and
that was the reason of his failure: so, hastily
digging up the golden root, he bade his
brother good-by, saying he would return in a
gold coach, and loaded with honours; and
then set forth to find a fitting place to plant
his treasure.
He travelled very far until he came toa
pleasant country, where the sun seemed
always to shine, and no tempests or storm-
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 109
clouds obscured the sky. Here Hansel pur-
chased a small plot of ground, and planted his
golden root. It flourished astonishingly ; and
as he made no secret of possessing it, the
fame of the wonderful tree soon reached the
ears of a good man, who owned one himself
that had already brought him a fortune.
Hansel was so proud of his tree that he
desired this man to come and see it. He
did so; and found Hansel reclining beneath
its shade, idly enjoying its beauty.
“‘ My young friend,†said his guest, “ your
tree is certainly very beautiful, but it wants
pruning ; it is too luxuriant: you had better
cut off all those long branches.â€
** What! and thus destroy my tree,†re-
torted the other, angrily. “I should then
have no fruit.â€
“ Your fruit on the contrary, will then
attain perfection,†replied his friend, mildly.
“ Believe me, I speak from experience when
I say that trees of this kind need constant
110 TILE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
und unwearied care. Year after year the
fruit dropped from my tree unripened, be-
fore I discovered that my own ignorant care-
lessness was the cause: by properly culti-
vating it, I have since reaped an abundant
harvest.â€
“Well, what must I do?†asked Hansel
sullenly, vexed to find any thing more was
essential.
“You must prune these branches,†re-
plied his adviser, “ and strip off some of these
luxuriant leaves: they are beautiful, doubt-
less, but they keep the sun from the fruit.
Then you must loosen the earth from the
roots frequently, and keep it free from
weeds; and above all, you must water it
bountifully, and not allow any poisonous
vines or insects to molest it. If you culti-
vate your tree properly, you will have very
little time to repose under its shade, until
the fruit begins to ripen, and then in its
perfection you will find your full reward.â€
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 11
But Hansel listened with impatient scorn
to all his judicious guest advised.
* Of what great value is the golden rout,â€
he exclaimed, passionately, “ if it requires so
much time and labour! Why, my brother
Wilhelm’s little brown seed grew into a tree
by dint of constant care: but with this golden
root, I should indeed be a simpleton to make
myself a slave, toiling early and late, when
it flourishes so well without: no, no, it
might have been all very well in your case ;
but my root is something superior, and I
assure you needs no further attention than
what I already give it.â€
His adviser smiled in scornful pity at the
young man’s arrogance and folly, and left
him to his indolence and gay visions of
golden harvests to come.
But, alas! for Hansel’s wilful pride, the
tree budded in time, but nearly all the fruit
dropped off withered and blasted as before :
what remained was stunted and imperfect,
]12 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
and he found difficulty in selling it even at
a low price: he succeeded in doing so at last,
however, and in a fit of shame and morti-
fication, for he had boasted loudly of his
intention to excel his neighbour, he pulled
up the tree, and taking the golden root,
hastened from the city. But as he passed
his kind adviser’s garden, he saw his golden
fruit hanging abundant, and glowing in its
ripening freshness. With an envious sigh,
ansel turned aside, and pursued his way.
After journeying many days, he reached
a country where the golden root seemed
entirely unknown, and where the people
beheld it with astonishment and delight.
They thought Hansel must be some great
personage to possess so great a treasure,
and overwhelmed him with servile atten-
tions.
Hansel loved flattery; he felt sure that
his golden root would flourish here: so he
sojourned among these people, who gladly
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 113
allowed him land wherein to plant his won-
derful tree.
Though the young man had scorned the
advice of his good friend at the time, he now
remembered, and determined to avail him-
self of it; he therefore attended his tree with
extreme care, and was rewarded by seeing it
grow more rapidly than ever: the buds ex-
panded finely, and the fruit ripened and
glowed inthe sun. The king of the coun-
try at length heard of this wonderful tree,
and sent for Hansel that he might question
him. The young man knew the value of a
king’s favour, and plucking one of the ripest
apples, presented it to the monarch. The
king was highly delighted with this costly
and beautiful gift: he ordered it to be placed
- in his treasury, and the giver to be installed
in apartments at the palace.
Hansel was now in the meridian splendour
of his fortune. The favourite of a king,
fawned upon by servile flatterers, and possess
1j4 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
ing a tree which yielded him unbounded
treasure: what more could he desire? He
might, indeed, have been happy, could he
but have learned to be prudent. But
intoxicated with success, he abandoned him-
self to pleasure, taking no farther heed to
the tree than to pluck the golden fruit as it
ripened: he scattered his wealth lavishly,
never reflecting that the source of all his
present gratification and honours would
perish if not cared for.
Hansel awoke at last to a sense of his
folly: he had incurred debts, trusting tu the
golden fruit for the means of repayment;
but upon visiting his tree, he found it
withered; the few golden apples that yet
clung to its branches were shrivelled, and
their brightness sullied forever. The anxious
youth tried every means to restore the tree
in vain; it had perished in the intolerable
heat of many scorching noons.
Despair filled Hansel’s brease: he feared
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 115
to return to the palace, where clamorous
creditors awaited him; the source of his
wealth was destroyed, and to his bewildered
mind there seemed but one course left; he
dug up the golden root, and fled, he scarce
knew whither.
He found himself at last in a vast forest,
far removed from the bustle of life, and re-
solved to plant his golden root here, and rear
it amid this solitude. Unhappily for Han-
sel, he had lost the power of pursuing this
plan. The pampered slave of indulgence
was all unfit for a hardy forest life; he sunk
beneath fatigue; and finding it impossible to
cultivate his tree, sought out a lonely cave,
and burying the golden root therein, sat
moodily down to brood over his disappoint-
ments, and attribute them all to his peculiar
ill-fortune, rather than his indolence and
pride.
Some time passed in this manner, and
then Hansel, weary of solitude, began to
116 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
think of his brother: a yearning desire to
see him once more crept into his heart, and
would not rest until satisfied; so once more
unearthing his golden root, now tarnished
and corroded, he put it in his bosom, and
turned his face towards his early home.
During all this time Wilhelm had remained
at home, cultivating his tree with most assid-
uous care ; early and late, through sunshine
and storm, he laboured perseveringly on:
frost came and nipped the buds; keen blasts
snapped the newly formed fruit from their
stems: still Wilhelm felt no discouragement,
— knew no despair.
The neighbours all wondered when they
saw his cheerful and unwearied skill, and
said it was a pity the golden root had not
fallen to his share; but Wilhelm felt no
emotion of envy or regret ; he supposed that
his brother was living in splendid luxury,
and had ceased to think of one so humble as
himself.
THE LITTLE BROWN “FEED. 117
Meanwhile his tree grew and flourished,
the rich fruit ripened, and hung lusciously
red and tempting among the leaves. As he
was busied loosening the earth one day, an
apple broke from its stem, and fell at his
feet: Wilhelm took it up; it was fresh and
inviting, exhaling a delightful fragrance;
he put it to his lips, and a cry of surprise
escaped him: never before had he tasted
such delicious fruit—cool, fragrant, and
spicy, leaving nothing to desire. Wilhelm
locked up with grateful pleasure to the tree,
among whose green foliage the fruit shone
like rubies.
“Your apples are not golden,†he solile-
quized ; “but they are better, for they are
good; pleasant to the eye and delicious to
the taste. It will be strange, indeed, if I
find not a ready sale for them.â€
He hastened to gather the now fully
ripened fruit, and carry it to the adjoining
market-town, where it brought even more
118 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
than his most sanguine hopes had antici-
pated. The fame of the wonderful tree
filled all the country round, and from far-off
cities orders came for supplies of the rare
and delightful fruit. With all his success,
Wilhelm was neither elated nor neglectful:
when the season of bearing was past, the
tree received just the same attention as be-
fore, and rewarded him with a still more
abundant supply.
Thus it grew and flourished each year,
with increased vigour, until its branches
spread completely over the unobtrusive yet
substantial cottage which Wilhelm had built
beneath its shade. The roots spread far be-
neath the earth, and sent up young saplings
in every direction, until instead of one, Wil-
helm found himself surrounded by an orchard
of rare and beautiful trees, each bending be-
neath the weight of fruit it bore.
He needed assistance now in rearing them:
s0 he hired workmen, took a wife, and be-
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 119
eame prosperous and happy. Yet although
the master of such vast wealth, he never
neglected his proper duty of directing it,
and remained always simple and unpretend- -
ing, respected and beloved by all.
Wilhelm sat beside his door one pleasant
summer evening. The branches of his first
tree, the tree of the little brown seed waved
gently above his head, laden with luscious
fruit. Orchards of similar trees surrounded
him, and the delicious perfume of the fruit
they bore eame blended with the breath of
the summer breeze. Everything upon which
his eye rested was his own: all had sprung
from that one little brown seed, planted in
hopefulness and nursed with patient care.
Wilhelm sat and mused; he was grateful,
happy, and content.
Presently a feeble, wayworn figure stood
before him.
“You do not remember me, Wilhelm,â€
spoke a hollow, desponding voice; “ nor
129 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
should I have known you, brother, but the
praise of your name has reached me on my
way, even as the perfume of your fruit is
now wafted over us.â€
Wilhelm started up: he clasped his brother
in his arms: he wept for very joy. And
then new milk and wine were brought, and
the table piled with the inviting fruit; and
after Hansel had eaten and refreshed him-
self, he asked his brother about his success.
Wilhelm told him all, simply and truthfully ;
but the haggard look and sunken eye of
Hansel forbade questioning in return. He
leaned his arm heavily upon the table, and
rested his face in his hands.
“ And J,†he said at length, in a tone of
deep self-abasement, “ upon whom my father
bestowed his choicest gift, have wasted and
destroyed it. With the means of being
both happy and useful, I have passed a life
of vice and folly; and now my golden root is
worthless, and I a homeless outcast.â€
THE LITTLE BROWN 8EED. 121
* Say not so,†cried his brother, warmly;
“Hansel, say not so! One roof shall again
shelter us, as in our early days: and while
my little brown seed yields full support for
both, we will plant once more your golden
root, and it will yet bear golden fruit. Don’t
shake your head so sadly; I know it will.â€
But Hansel only shook his head still the
more sadly, repeating, “The germ of life is
wasted; its health and vigour gone: no, it
can never yield perfect fruit again.â€
Wilhelm would heed no such discouraging
words. He carefully planted the root him-
self, nursing its sickly growth with unwearied
patience and skill; but only a few buds:
repaid his toil, and they were small and
stunted.
Hansel never recovered his robust health,
and was no longer able to give much assist-
ance in cultivating the once precious tree.
He loved to sit under its shade, and pluck
the imperfect dwarf fruit to amuse his
)22 THE GOLDEN Loot, AND
brother’s children; telling them, the while,
how precious the gift was once, and how he
had wasted and abused it; and warning
them, should they ever possess a golden
root, to profit by the lesson he now taught
them.
Years rolled by, and the two brothers
died; but Wilhelm left to each of his chil-
dren a little brown seed, which he had
gathered from the first tree he planted, and
which seemed to him of far greater value
than all the broad fields of their rich in-
heritance. Some of his sons travelled abroad
and planted the little brown seed in distant
lands, where it spread and flourished. But
there is a tradition which relates, that to the
youngest boy, who was his namesake and
favourite, Hansel left his golden root, as a
keepsake; but the boy dug it up, and care-
fully removing the corroded parts, planted
it again, with his little brown seed; and
they grew together until their branches
TIE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 123
intertwined, forming a great canopy, be-
neath which the council always met to make
the nation’s laws.
It says, besides, that the young man be-
came ruler over all the country, and made
wonderful discoveries in science, so that he
obtained the title of “ Hansel the wise, the
prudent, and the good;†and what is better,
deserved it too, which is more than can be
said of many a monarch who has governed
before and aince.
Aunt Elsie took off her spectacles, and
dropped the manuscript into her work-
basket.
“Such a very pretty story,†cried the
smaller children; “and now, Aunt Elsie,
please tell us what the golden root and the
little brown seed mean.â€
The old lady shook her head, and smiled.
‘T leave all that to your ingenuity to dis-
cover,†she said.
324 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
“The golden root means talent, I think,†|
said Arthur; “and Hansel misapplied it.â€
“He did worse,†added Mabel; “he
wickedly wasted and destroyed it, by refus-
ing to give it the needed care.â€
* Which means study and improvement,
does it not, Aunt Elsie?†asked Grace.
* Yes, Grace,†she responded; “ but much
more than this is implied in the proper culti-
vation of the golden root. He who possesses
talent should consider it a precious gift, of
which he will be expected to render a strict
account; and should endeavour so to use it,
that, while it serves himself and others, it
shall also redound to the honour and glory
of the great Giver, by whom it was be-
stowed.â€
« And when Hansel planted the golden
root, he should have let it remain,†said
Frank: ‘nothing can grow if constantly
uprooted, which I suppose means that talent
should not be wasted by changing from one
IrHE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 195
occupation to another, without taking time to
excel in any.â€
“Right, Franky; you are growing quite a
philosopher,†returned Harry. “ There are
plenty like Hansel in the world, who blame
the ill success of their golden root to every
thing rather than their own fickleness or
want of proper cultivation.â€
« But the little brown seed!†cried Kate;
“that made Wilhelm and Mr. Helme both
so rich; pray tell us what. that is.â€
“Tt must be persevering industry, that
overcomes all difficulties, and is crowned
with success at last,†said Edith.
Why, so it is!†cried Robert; “and if
industry is all that is needed, I mean to be
as rich as Mr. Helme myself yet.â€
“ But something more is needed,†replied
Clara; ‘for Wilhelm was persevering us
well as industrious; and if you wish to suc-
ceed as he did, you must never be dis-
heartened by difficulties.â€
126 THE GOLDEN ROOT, AND
“ That is the right principle,†cried Harry
Wilder;
‘ And of all maxims, the best and the oldest
Is the stout watchword of never give up!’
If Wilhelm had known any thing about
poetry, doubtless he would have written
that upon his door-posts.â€
“Aunt Elsie’s story reminds me,†said
Fred, “of a fable we used to learn at
school, about a hare and a tortoise who ran
a race together. The hare ran so swiftly
that he soon left the poor tortoise far enough
behind; and thinking he could easily win,
laid down to take a nap; but while he slept,
the tortoise, who all this while was creeping
steadily on, came up and passed him, and so
won the race after all.â€
The children laughed at Fred’s fable, and
little Lilie exclaimed, with a half-sigh—
* How I wish I had a little brown seed to
plant, and then it would grow into a great
tree for Franky: he so loves to sit under the
trees.â€
THE LITTLE BROWN SEED. 197
“So did Hansel,†replied Frank, looking
up with a smile; “but he gained nothing
by it, Lilie. No, I will plant the brown
seed myself, and you shall rest under its
shade, and eat of its fruit,†he added, kissing
her as he spoke.
Aunt Elsie looked affectionately upon them.
“That is a wise resolve,†she said; “and
all of you, my children, may possess and
plant the little brown seed: even those bees
can claim it; and see what a wonderful work
they accomplish through its agency alone!
It is persevering industry that builds their
curious cells and stores them with honey;
and the same principle made our kind friend,
Mr. Helme, rich and respected as he is,
He planted and watered the seed with per-
severance and care, and is now enjoying the
fruits of his industry.â€
* Then, hurrah for the little brown seed!â€
cried Fred; ‘we don’t need the golden root
at all: we can do very well without it.â€
128 THE WHITE VIOLET.
“You are wrong there, Fred,†rejoined
Aunt Elsie, rising as she spoke. “ Talent
does not always insure success in life; but
those among you to whose share it has fallen
will, I trust, so nourish and improve the
golden root, that the fruit it bears will be
perfect in its kind; and while you despise
not the little brown seed, will deserve at last
to be called, with the son of Wilhelm, ‘ wise
prudent, and good.’ â€
CHAPTER V.
How pleasant it was out in the grand old
woods, beneath the shady trees, through
whose clustering leaves the hot noonday sun
strove in vain to get a peep at the merry
group gathered there!
The day of the long anticipated pic-nic
had arrived at last, and no farther disappoint-
THE WHITE VIOLET. 129
ment awaited little Lilie. The morning sun
rose clear and bright, and though his beams
fell very warmly upon the earth, yet a soft
air gently stirred the leaves, and gathered
fragrance from the flowers. It was a lovely
summer day, just warm enough to make the
refreshing dampness of the woods desirable ;
and yet the heat was not so intense as to
forbid all exertion.
The children were awake and busy very
early that morning, making preparations for
the day of pleasure; and before the sun was
many hours high, were ready with their bas-
kets and sun-bonnets, for a ramble in the
woods. Aunt Elsie followed at her leisure,
to join the little party in their favourite spot,
where they had formed a rustic seat for her
especial benefit.
This chosen place of resort was a gently
rising knoll, where the trees formed a circle,
and their long branches intertwined into a
leafy roof, while the grass beneath was fresh
I
130 THE WHITE VIOLET.
and green. The boys had fastened a strong
swing between two tall trees; and this was
a favourite amusement of the little girls, who
each in turn enjoyed its exhilarating motion.
When the little party reached this spot,
they deposited their baskets carefully beneath
the bushes, and then separated to pursue
their own pleasures. Several of the elder
children carried their drawing-pencils and
sketch-books with them, some to finish draw-
ings of favourite trees, and others to seek for
beautiful views. Edward and Robert brought
their bows and arrows; and a few among
the party sought for the varied and beauti-
ful fern to dry and press; gathering also
fresh moss to make into baskets. Some of
the children lingered behind to enjoy the
swing ; and Aunt Elsie, as she drew near,
heard Marian exclaim,
“It is my turn now, Fred; swing me
next: I want to join Mabel, for she will
soon be out of sight.â€
The boys had tastened a s g swing between two tall trees: and
this was a favourite amusement with the girls, wHo each in turn
enjoyed its exhilarating motion. Page 130.
THE WHITE VIOLET. 131
“* But it is my turn, cousin, if you please,â€
replied Fred, teasingly, and springing into the
swing as he spoke. “ You have had one swing
already, and I think I deserve some reward
for my gallantry in waiting upon you all.â€
“ Gallantry, indeed!†returned Marian,
with a crimsoned face: “you are a very ill-
bred, unmannerly boy to keep me waiting
here when you can just as well take your
turn afterwards.â€
**So can you, cousin mine,†cried the tor-
menting Fred, as he stepped back a few
paces, and touching his feet to the ground,
sent the swing up with renewed force.
“Just wait until I am a little cooled after
my exertions in pushing you all, and then I
will swing you as high as you please.â€
* But I don’t please to wait; neither
shall you swing me at all: so jump out at
once, Master Fred, and give me the seat,â€
rejoined the little girl angrily, and trying to
eatch the rope in her hand as it passed.
132 THE WHITE VIOLET.
But Fred only laughed at his cousin, and
sent the swing up higher among the trees a
few times more.
“ Now,†he cried, “ I am somewhat cooler
and more comfortable : just let the cat die,
Marian, and then you shall have a fine
swing.â€
Marian walked poutingly apart, twirling
her sun-bonnet by its string, and repeating,
“No, I will not swing at all now.â€
“Just as you please,†retorted Fred,
laughing. “You don’t want to swing, and
I see have no need of your bonnet ; so lend
it to me, I am afraid of my complexion ;â€
and snatching the bonnet from her hand as
he spoke, he put it on his head and ran off.
It was evident that Fred was in a very
teasing mood, and Marian in quite a bad
humour ; she followed her cousin, calling in
no very gentle voice, while he looked laugh-
ingly back. Down the slope they rushed,
and as Ered rapidly made his way through
THE WHITE VIOLET. 133
brake and brier, an officious little bramble
jerked the bonnet from his head, and flung
it into a muddy pool, that the late rains had
made.
Here was a catastrophe! Fred’s laughter
was checked, and he looked really sorry, as
he hastened to pick up the dripping sun-
bonnet, and wring out the water. Marian
was perfectly speechless with vexation, to see
her neat white bonnet, which Dinah had so
carefully ironed, and the ruffle of which
Aunt Elsie herself had crimped, now wet,
crumpled, and stained with mud: it was the
drop too much in her cup of ill-humour, and
she sat down and cried with anger and an-
noyance.
“I am very sorry, Marian,†said Fred,
who was now thoroughly cured of his teas-
ing mood. “I am sure I did not mean to
hurt the bonnet ; I only wanted to give you
& race, and tease you a little.â€
“But you are forever teasing me, “ re-
134 THE WHITE VIOLET.
turned Marian, finding voice at last through
her sobs; “and I don’t like you at all:
what will Aunt Elsie say when she sees my
nice bonnet in such a condition? I mean
to tell her all about it, and she will scold
you I know ; for you deserve it.â€
“Well, perhaps I do,†answered her
cousin with good natured contrition: “at
any rate it was certainly not your fault that
the bonnet got dirtied; but dry up your
tears, Marian, and forgive me this time: I
will promise not to tease you any more, un-
less you are in a good humour.â€
“I was in a good humour,†retorted
Marian, hastily, “ until you spoiled it by
your ugly ways : now what am I to do with-
out a bonnet? I shall be all freckled and
burned in the sun.â€
“No, no,†cried Fred, coaxingly ; “I
don’t want to see my cousin’s pretty face
any more disfigured than it is: here, take
my hat and tie it down with my handker-
THE WHITE VIOLET. 135
chief—so: it makes a capital gipsy bonnet,
and is really very becoming.â€
He took off his broad straw hat as he
spoke, and put it on Marian’s head, whiie
she sat passive and sullen; then passing his
handkerchief over the crown, tied it beneath
her chin, and very pretty and picturesque it
looked ; and had the face beneath it been
smiling and pleasant, it would have been
most becoming besides.
*« And now,†continued the boy, pleasant-
ly, “I will run up to the house, and ask
Dinah if she will please wash and iron the
bonnet, and then I will go for it when it
is done: it won’t take very long to dry.
So now, you see, I am very sorry, and
willing to do all I can to mend the mischief:
let us kiss and be friends, coz.†He looked
smilingly in her face as he spoke, but Marian
had not yet recovered her good-humour, and
turned sulkily away.
“ Very well,†cried Fred; “ perhaps you
136 THE WHITE VIOLET.
will when I come back: the clean bonnet
must buy my pardon.â€
So saying, he ran rapidly towards the
house with the muddied sun-bonnet in his
hand.
From the little knoll above, Aunt Elsie
had been an unobserved spectator of this
scene, and had heard Fred’s good-natured
apologies, and his cousin’s angry replies.
She waited until the boy was out of sight,
and then returned herself, by another path,
to the house.
Fred had arrived some time before, and
had easily persuaded the good-natured
Dinah, with whom his liveliness made him
an especial favourite, to wash out the soiled
bonnet immediately. It was already washed
and spread out in the sun to dry when Aunt
Elsie reached home ; and the kind old lady,
after going into the shaded parlour, and
opening the old book-case, took down the
portfolio, and after a long search, selected
NE WHITE VIOLET. 137
several papers which she carefully folded and
deposited in her work-bag. She then went
into the kitchen, and ironed the bonnet her-
self, carefully crimping the ruffles, and
making all neat as before; after which she
proceeded leisurely to the grove.
The morning sped rapidly away, and one
after another the children gathered about
Aunt Elsie, who preferred to remain seated
in the shade, while they rambled about.
Some exhibited the sketches they had made,
er the plants they had gathered; while
others returned early from their rambles,
and sat down with work or drawings, the
dear Aunt Elsie chatting pleasantly the
while. But it was long past noon before
they all assembled, and began to think about
dinner.
Then the baskets were brought forth, and
a fresh white table-cloth spread upon the
smooth bank : while sundry other necessary
articles were produced, which the little girls
138 THE WHITE VIOLET.
busied themselves in arranging, while the
boys were dispatched to the house for provi-
sions.
They returned, with a couple of small
hampers, and soon a tempting repast was set
forth, Dinah had not forgotten the pot-
cheese, to the infinite satisfaction of Fred,
who was now in high good-humour. Marian,
too, had recovered her smiles, as her cousin
slyly produced the clean sun-bonnet from the
top of one of the hampers: and the whole
party seemed inspired with the spirit of
good-natured mirth and innocent enjoyment.
Aunt Elsie’s health was drank in bumpers
of iced lemonade. Fred touched his glass
with Marian’s, and gave as a sentiment,
3
“ Forgive and forget ;†and several bright
speeches were made by the boys, to the no
small delight of Dinah, who had followed
with several forgotten items, and who
evidently enjoyed the scene with the rest.
After the meal was ended, and the frag-
THE WHITE VIOLET. 139
ments nicely cleared away, the children
again betook themselves to their several em-
ployments; while Arthur produced a new
book, and read aloud.
“Well!†exclaimed Kate, after Arthur
had closed his book, and the comments of
each had been made, “ well, this has been a
most delightful day : we have nothing left
to wish for.â€
** Except one thing,†added Robert, with
a side glance towards Aunt Elsie.
“ What can that be?†asked Clara. “I
am sure we should all be satisfied. I think
I never passed a more happy day.â€
* Nor I,†added Mabel; “ but I think I
know what Robert’s one thing needful is.â€
« And so do I,†added little Lilie. “I
remember very well; but Aunt Elsie has
forgotten all about it.â€
“ What is it, my dears, that Aunt Elsie
has forgotten?†asked the kind old lady,
with a smile, as she caught Lilie’s words.
140 THE WHITE VIOLET.
“A certain promise made some time since,â€
replied Harry Wilder, “which we all re-
member, and would be delighted to have
fulfilled, if it please you, Aunt Elsie.â€
“Oh, it is the story, the fairy story, which
you promised to read when we passed the
day in the woods! Dear Aunt Elsie, will
you read it now?†cried Kate, eagerly.
“Yes, the woods are just the place for
fairies,†added Frank ; “but Aunt Elsie has
not the old portfolio here.â€
“T will go for it,†cried Arthur and several
of the others, starting quickly up.
“Thank you, my dear boys,†said the kind
Aunt Elsie, smiling as she saw their eager
willingness; “but some of the fairies have
left the old portfolio, and are safely stowed
away in my work-bag, awaiting your pleasure
to be freed. You see I have a better me-
mory than you think for, Lilie,†she added,
producing the manuscript as she spoke.
“ How kind and thoughtful !†exclaimed
THE WHITE VIOLET. 141
the children, as they eagerly seated them-
selves at the good old ladies feet; while
Kate and little Lilie scrambled up behind
her, and kissed her fondly on either cheek.
“TI believe you are a fairy yourself,â€
whispered little Lilie; “for you always
know just what we want, and have it ready
for us.â€
Aunt Elsie looked up with an answering
smile. ‘“ But fairies never grow old and wrin-
kled, you know,†she said.
A right pleasant picture it was, with the
rich beams of the setting sun streaming amid
the leaves, and lighting up the benevolent
and still handsome countenance of the dear
Aunt Elsie, and lending an added radiance
to the group of fresh and happy faces that
clustered about her with loving looks as she
read to them the story of
142 THE WHITE VIOLEW
Che White Bink
-It is so joyous in the glad spring-time,
when the little children go forth in merry
groups into the fields and woods and gather
their laps full of daisies and wild-violets to
twine in the curls of their fair hair. The
birds seem so plenty then, for the foliage is
not yet thick enough to hide them ; and they
fly from branch to branch, and swing on the
slender twigs, calling to each other, that the
cold winter is past, and the summer will soon
be here. Then the air is so soft and refresh-
ing, because the hot summer sun has not yet
dried the moisture from the ground, and
baked the earth intoa hard clay; and the
little rivulets gurgle over the stones so
quickly, as though they feared old winter
was coming again to bind them fast in his
icy chains. Yes, it is so very joyous in the
early spring!
THE WHITE VIOLET. 143
And so all things seemed rejoicing one
lovely day in a spring-time long ago. There
was sunshine and gladness everywhere, save
on the brow and in the heart of little Fienna,
for there alone were clouds and sorrow. She
walked slowly out into the fresh fields and
the shaded woods, with her eyes bent upon
the ground, heeding not the freshness and
beauty that surrounded her, and at last fling-
ing herself upon the green turf, wept loudly
and long. It was pitiful to see the little
girl's grief when all around was gay.
But Fienna often came out into the woods
to weep, for indeed she was very unhappy.
Her father and mother were dead, and she
lived with a stern old woman, who had one
child of her own, and consequently considered
the little orphan a great burden. Fienna
was pretty and fair, with soft blue eyes, and
pale golden tresses, that curled without being
tortured against their will, and hung in shin-
ing ringlets over her shoulders; but her
144 THE WHITE VIOLET.
cheeks were not firm and rosy like those of
happier children, and her eyelids were often
red and swollen with tears; so that the
neighbour’s children called her a fright. The
woman with whom Fienna lived had known
the little girl’s mother well, and received
many kindnesses from her. She had pro-
mised her, when she was dying, to take care
of the poor little motherless Fienna, and treat
her as her own child. But though she took
the little girl home, and bade her be happy,
as she had got another mother, yet the child
found a very great difference between the
true and the adopted parent.
This woman had one only son, who was
his mother’s darling, and a spoiled, ill-natured
boy besides. He delighted in teasing Fienna,
and playing all manner of tricks upon her,
frequently causing her a scolding when she
did not deserve it; and if any thing happened
amiss, or he did any mischief, he always
blamed the little girl, whose denials were
THE WHITE VIOLET. 145
never believed, and who consequently often
bore the punishment which he deserved.
Fienna hated Fritz with all her heart ; and
though she had ever been a good-tempered
and pleasant child, she was fast becoming
sulky and ill-humoured, by his constant op-
pression ; and then his mother would say,
“Why, Fienna, I once thought you a good
child; but you have grown so very wicked, I
must punish you again.â€
and then the little girl had another task
given her, and was forced to stay within
while all the other children went out to the
woods ; and Fritz flung pebbles in upon her
from the open window.
No wonder Fienna threw herself upon the
bank and cried when she thought of all these
things. Fritz had been unusually wicked
that day, and had cut off one of her long
curls in his ill-mannered, teasing mood. So
when the little girl received permission at
last to go out into the woods, she sought a
K
146 TIE WHITE VIOLET.
lonely spot, and there gave full vent to her
anger and tears.
“Oh, how I hate that Fritz!’ she cried.
“T wish some one would treat him just as he
does me, and then he would be punished
besides, just as I am: he is too detestable to
live, and his mother is a wicked woman to
believe all he says. Oh, how I wish I could
lie in the ground by my own dear mother,
now there is no one to love me!†And she
buried her face in the grass in a paroxysm of
bitter feeling.
Just then a low voice seemed to breathe
over the little girl.
“There is one who loves you even yet.â€
Fienna started up, and looked about her.
“It was only the sighing of the wind among
the trees,†she said: “there is no one to love
me, now that my dear mother is gone.â€
But again the soft voice floated over her—
“There is one who loves you well, and
will serve you besides.â€
THE WHITE VIOLET. 147
“Who are you?†exclaimed the little girl,
in a frightened tone. “TI can see no one:
where are you Pâ€
“I am here at your side,†replied the in-
visible speaker; “but you cannot see me
because you have wicked and revengeful
thoughts in your heart. Those who look
upon me must be sinless and pure, and have
no evil feelings, neither wish any ill to
others.â€
“ But how can I help having wicked
thoughts and wishing bad things to happen
to that hateful Fritz, who does nothing but
‘abuse me from morning till night ?†replied
Fienna, whose mind again reverted to her
troubles.
“True, Fritz is very unkind sometimes ;
but by indulging in these wicked thoughts
you will learn to be like him at last; while,
by being gentle and kind, you may make
even him love you,†returned the voice.
“I don’t want Fritz to love me: he is a
148 THE WHITE VIOLET.
bad boy, and I cannot bear him,†said the
little girl sulkily.
“ Fienna,†spoke the voice once more, and
now its tones seemed sad and reproachful,
“TI must leave you forever if you persist in
these sinful feelings, and then you can never
be happy. Listen, little girl. Does not the
bright sun shine on all alike? When the
earth is hard and frozen, and no flowers can
be seen, he still smiles kindly down, till even
the ice thaws beneath his influence, and the
flowers bloom again. So kindness and gentle
words will in time soften the hardest heart ;
but revenge and anger, like the bleak north
wind, only freezes the ice still harder. If
there were no sun, there would be no
flowers. Which will you be, Fienna, the
sun or the wind? will you be loved or
hated ?â€
Fienna heard these words in silence :
gentler feelings crept over her.
“T will be loved,†she murmured; “only
THE WHITE VIOLET. 149
teach me how, for there is no one who cares
for me now.â€
“Listen, then,†returned the voice. “You
must send all these revengeful thoughts and
wishes far from you; they are making you
sinful and selfish. You must try to do unto
others as you would have them do to you;
and remembering this, when Fritz acts un-
kindly, bear with him, and let not an angry
retort provoke him to greater evil. Instead
of growing sulky and discontented in think-
ing over your ill-treatment, try to deserve
better, by constant willingness to perform all
the duties required of you. And above and
beyond all, cherish no malice for the harm
done you, but from your heart forgive it.
Will you do this, Fienna?â€
The voice was inexpressibly sweet and
persuasive. It sunk into the heart of the
little girl, and the feelings of hatred and ill-
will melted before it like frost beneath the
warm sunbeams.
150 THE WHITE VIOLET.
“T will try,†she said, softly 3 “but lam
afraid I cannot do all this, when Fritz so
constantly provokes me ; yet I will try with
all my might.â€
** Do so, my little girl, and you will con-
quer at last,†returned the sweet voice, with
an encouraging tone; “but I will not leave
you unassisted in your good - endeavours.
You cannot behold me yet, Fienna; but
just where my foot has pressed the turf,
there will spring up a tuft of white violets:
carry them with you, and plant them ina
far-off corner of the garden where they can
remain. Pluck one each day and hide it in
your bosom : it will exhale a sweet fragrance
when you bear unkindness meekly, which
will fill the hearts of those about you with
kinder and more gentle thoughts, and so in
time win all to love you; and you will then
be happy, because all good and unselfish feel-
ings will fill your heart, and drive the evil
ones away forever.â€
THE WHITE VIOLET. 151
As these words floated softly upon the air,
the little girl felt a slight pressure upon her
brow, like the wing of a bird as it brushes
the dew from the leaves; and then a calm
feeling of repose stole into her breast as she
arose from the bank.
She waited a little while for the sweet
voice to speak again ; but now all was still,
save the soft rustling of the young spring
leaves, and the twittering good-night of the
birds as they sought their nests, for the sun
was fast sinking behind the hills, and the
forest shades deepened in the twilight.
Then Fienna knew that the gentle voice
was gone; and looking down upon the turf
at her side, she saw a tuft of sweet white
violets, which certainly were not there when
she first threw herself upon the bank. -
The little girl looked upon the spotless
white flowers with a feeling of awe, for she
remembered the words of the spirit-voice,
and knew it was here that the foot of her
152 THE WHITE VIOLET.
unseen friend had pressed. She feared to
stoop and touch them, and stood awhile in
wrapt amazement. But presently she started,
for now the evening was coming on, and she
knew that a severe reproof awaited her for
lingering so long in the woods. Then she
thought of the promise the spirit-voice had
made to assist her in bearing unkindness, and
of the wonderful fragrance the violets would
shed around.
“T will take them with me now,†she
thought. “TI shall need all their sweet in-
fluence to help me in keeping my resolution ;
for I know I shall be scolded for staying out
so long, and perhaps be sent to bed supper-
less besides.â€
She bent over the violets, and their rich
fragrance came up refreshingly, as she care-
fully loosened the. earth about them, and
carried them home.
Sure enough, the first words that greeted
Fienna upon her return, were harsh and up-
THE WHITE VIOLET. 153
braiding: and she was told to go to bed at
once, as she deserved no supper. True to
her resolution, the little girl complied at once
without a murmur, and even the gibes and
mocking words of Fritz, who met her at the
door, aroused no angry look or word in reply.
Her heart was full of the fragrance of the
violets which she concealed in her apron, and
she was meditating how to obtain a chance of
planting them unseen.
By and by she heard the garden gate close,
and looking out from her little window, saw
Fritz and his mother going down the road.
Then she quietly stole down stairs, and out
into the garden, where, far away in one
corner, overgrown with nettles, she carefully
made a place for her tuft of violets, and
watered them plentifully, trusting that in
this secluded and uninviting spot, they would
escape all notice.
The pale new moon arose, and peeped
over the little girl’s shoulder as she pursued
154 THE WHITE VIOLET.
her task: and as its soft ray fell upon the
white violets, their purity became dazzling
to look upon; and they sent up a gush of
sweet odour, that filled Fienna’s heart with a
strange sense of peace and good-will.
Fienna arose very early the next morning,
and hurried into the garden, to see if her
precious violets were safe. There they were,
seemingly buried amid the nettles, but turn-
ing their spotless faces to the sun, as if they
enjoyed his glowing beam. The little girl
dared not linger long ; so, hastily plucking a
flower, she hid it in her bosom, and returned
to the house.
She then swept up the door-yard, and fed
the noisy poultry who were already abroad,
and softly returned to her own little garret
to arrange her hair tidily, which she had not
before waited to do.
Just as she had finished, she heard the
harsh voice of her adopted mother calling on
the stairs:
THE WHITE VIOLET. 155
“Come, get up, lazy one. I warrant you
would sleep till noon. Be down quickly or
you will have no breakfast ; and you must
need it after losing your supper, by your
wilful ways.â€
Fienna made no reply to this, but followed
so quickly after the woman, that she turned
about in surprise : and when she found the
poultry fed, and door-yard swept, instead of
giving a word of praise, she angrily inquired
what had made her rise so early.
“She wanted a biscuit from the larder, I
guess,†answered Fritz, grinning, as he now
stood near his mother, with uncombed hair,
and his shoes in his hand: “she would not
get up so early for nothing.â€
Fienna felt her colour rise at this speech,
but she controlled herself, and said,
“T rose early to come into the garden, and
as the poultry were about, I thought I had
better feed them.â€
“Thou didst right for once, Fienna,†re+
156 THE WHITE VIOLET.
plied the woman in a mollified tone, for she
had sought the larder, and found her biscuits
safe: besides, the fragrance of the white
violet stole into her heart, as the little girl
spoke. “And thou, Fritz, had better go and
tidy thyself, or no breakfast shalt thou get
in that plight.â€
Fritz cast an ugly scowl upon Fienna, as
he slowly obeyed; but the little girl’s heart
was lightened by those trifling words of kind-
ness, and she performed all her duties so
willingly, that she received an extra supply
of bread and milk for her breakfast.
Fritz looked upon this unwonted kindness
of his mother with an angry brow, and de-
termined to procure the little girl a punish-
ment in some way. All day long he con-
trived in various ways to annoy her, spilling
water upon the clean floor, and slyly remov-
ing the pins from the newly washed clothes,
so that they should fall in the dirt.
Fienna’s patience was severely tried ; but
THE WHITE VIOLET. 157
the breath of the violet seemed to sustain
her ; so she wiped up the wet, and rinsed the
muddied clothes without a complaint. Fritz
saw this unusual conduct with surprise: he
had expected the little girl to retort angrily
upon him as usual, and then he could easily
inflame her anger by taunts and jeers, until
his mother interfered, when, by telling false-
hoods, the blame and punishment were all
awarded to Fienna.
But this day he was disappointed : yet he
resolved that the morning’s extra supply of
bread and milk should be atoned for by the
little girl going supperless again, while he
enjoyed her portion.
It seemed strange that Fritz should find
so much delight in annoying the poor little
girl, and making her unhappy : but he was
a cruel, evil-minded boy, like many another,
who liked to have something about him on
which to vent his wickedness; and Fienna,
helpless and unprotected, was a fit victim :
158 TILE WHITE VIOLET.
there was no one to take her part, and her
violent and unavailing expressions of anger
and hate amused and delighted him. It cer-
tainly seemed a hopeless task to overcome so
wicked a heart, by kind and gentle means.
When Fienna sat down to her work in the
afternoon, he hid her pincushion, and dropped
the thread in water: thus delaying her, so
that her task could not be accomplished in
‘time to take a stroll in the woods. But the
little girl, instead of helplessly crying over
her annoyances, dried the thread, and found
the pincushion; but despite all her diligence,
she could not finish her task much before
supper, and only found an opportunity to
water her precious violets before bedtime.
After she was in bed, she thought over all
that had happened during the day: and
although the fragrance of the violet had not
softened Fritz’s heart, or inspired him with
any feeling of kindness, still it had kept her
own rebellious feelings in check: she had
THE WHITE VIOLET. 159
not given way to any sinful thoughts, and
felt much happier as she laid her head
upon her pillow, than ever she had been
before.
The next morning found her again up with
the sun, and with the freshly culled violet in
her bosom, she again endured the wicked
pranks of the tormenting Fritz. His mother
was evidently pleased with the unusual change
in the little girl, and this only enraged him
the more.
It chanced that day Fienna was sent up
stairs for his mother’s best shawl, as she was
going to visit a neighbour; and the wicked
boy contrived to slip the inkstand from the
closet and place it just beneath the shawl,
which was on a high shelf above. In her
endeavour to reach it, the little girl upset
the stand, and down poured the black ink
over the shawl and herself! Poor Fienna
stood a moment in perfect terror, at this un-
expected mishap. Presently she beheld the
160 THE WHITE VIOLET.
malicious face of Fritz peeping at her from
behind the door.
“Mother, mother!†he screamed exult-
ingly; “ Fienna has ruined your new shaw]:
come and see !â€
His mother came hastily up stairs, and
there was the little girl endeavouring to rub
the ink-spots from the shawl with her apron,
which was in a sad condition also. Without
waiting to inquire into the cause of the ac-
cident, she gave the unfortunate child a
severe box on the ears, pouring forth at the
same time all the vilest names she could
- command, while the wicked author of all the
mischief stood grinning with malicious plea-
sure at the scene.
Fienna -knew that all explanations would
be useless; and she really felt so sorry to see
the stains upon the new shawl, that her own
trouble was forgotten. Perhaps it was the
magical fragrance of the violet that led her
to assist eagerly in remedying the mischief,
THE WHITE VIOLET. 161
despite the abuse that still showered upon
her; and though her heart swelled when she
saw the wicked joy of Fritz, she passed him
without an angry look.
The poor little girl lost both dinner and
supper that day, and had extra work given
her besides; while Fritz was left at home to
torment her when his mother went out.
Fienna sewed steadily away, though the
tears rolled down her cheeks, and said not a
word in reply to the mockery and sneers of
the wicked boy, who was whittling a stick
upon the window-seat. Presently he dropped
his knife and screamed out with pain, hold-
ing one hand in the other, while the blood
slowly trickled through his fingers from a
great gash across his palm.
Had this happened a few days before,
Fienna would have exulted and told him it
served him right, and she was glad of it,
without offering to help him; but now the
fragrance of the white violet filled her heart ;
L
162 THE WHITE VIOLET.
and so raising her eyes from her work, she
said, kindly,
« Are you hurt, Fritz? I am sorry.â€
‘That you are not,†retorted the boy,
distrustfully. “I know very well you are
glad I have cut myself.â€
Little Fienna made no reply to this rude
speech; but getting a piece of soft linen,
came up to him and said,
“Let me bind it up for you, Fritz. I
will be very careful not to hurt you.â€
Fritz looked up in some surprise, but un-
graciously held out his hand, which the little
girl tenderly washed and tied up. He did
not thank her when she had finished, but
sat idly drumming his feet against the wall,
while she returned to her work. After a
while he said,
“ T am sorry the ink got spilled on mother’s
new shawl.â€
“So am I,†replied Fienna, sighing hea-
vily.
THE WHITE VIOLET. 163
“Was it your fault?†asked the boy,
abruptly.
“You know best, Fritz,†returned the
little girl, gently, and lifting her eyes as she
spoke.
The boy was silent a few moments longer.
“ T wish mother would give you your sup-
per to-night,†he said at last.
‘Never mind, Fritz; I can do very well
without it,†she answered, while a feeling of
surprise and pleasure at this unwonted kind-
ness brought tears to her eyes.
She did not know, and neither did the
boy himself, that the sweet fragrance of
the violet had stolen into his breast while
the little girl bent over him to tie up the
wounded hand.
This kindly mood did not long continue ;
for his mother’s increasing kindness to the
little girl awakened all the malicious envy of
his evil nature, and he only hated her. the
more: the magic of the violet seemed lost on
164 THE WHITE VIOLET.
him. But his mother, who, though harsh
and stern, was not hard-hearted, felt softened
by the gentle forbearance and willingness of
the little girl. The breath of the violet was
insensibly filling her heart with its strange
sweet odour. She condemned less hastily
than before, and sometimes even corrected
Fritz for his ill-natured tricks.
This change made Fienna much happier,
though she still had a great deal to bear
from her tormentor; but she never rejoiced
when he was reproved, and always spoke
kindly and patiently to him, while she nour-
ished the precious violets with the greatest
care.
Fritz, who had watched her going fre-
quently to one corner of the garden, sought
out one day the little tuft of violets; and
delighted at being able to annoy her at last,
he trampled them beneath his feet, and
crushed the spotless flowers to the ground.
When Fienna went as usual to gather a
THE WHITE VIOLET. 165
violet on the following morning, she beheld
them bruised and withered.
“That wicked Fritz has been here anc
done this !†she exclaimed; and then angry
and revengeful words rose to her lips; but
as she bent sorrowfully over the crushed
violets, they sent forth a gush of fragrance,
and her anger melted away in tears.
“My violets, my precious violets!†she
cried. “Now you are withered, I shall
never be able to keep my temper, and so
never be loved after all.â€
“Why, what are all these tears about?â€
asked a voice near her; and looking up with
a start, Fienna saw Fritz and his mother.
“This is what brings you out into the
garden so early, is it?†she said, while the
breath of the charmed flowers insensibly
crept into her heart. “ Well, I see no use of
hiding your violets here, as though it were a
sin to look at them; neither should you have
trampled upon them, Fritz: but dry up your
166 THE WHITE VIOLET.
tears, silly child; they will grow again, and
thou shalt plant them in a sunny corner—
not here among these nettles. It is a foolish
fancy, but not hurtful; so dig them up,
and plant them in a spot where they will
flourish.â€
Overjoyed at these unexpected words of
kindness, Fienna soon complied, and the
tuft of violets was replanted in a plea-
sant spot of the garden, while Fritz was
forbidden to touch them upon pain of punish-
ment.
Fritz had looked sorry when he saw
Fienna’s grief, and even brought water for
her to water the bruised flowers ; but when
his mother thus openly took her part, and
blamed him, his evil nature was aroused
again, and he walked sullenly away, intent
upon some plan of venting his angry malice.
Meanwhile, Fienna gathered several of
the crushed violets that were broken from
their stems, and hid them in her bosom,
THE WHITE VIOLET. 167
where they exhaled even a sweeter odour
from being bruised.
That day was one of comparative comfort
to the little girl; for Fritz kept out of the
way, and the sweet flowers which she carried
in her bosom filled her heart with their
charmed influence, while even the mother of
Fritz felt their spell.
The wicked Fritz meanwhile had busied
himself in tying a strong twine across the
path that led to the spot where Fienna had
planted her violets; so that when she went
after sunset to water her flowers, she might
trip, and be thrown down on the rough
gravelled walk. But it so chanced that the
little girl had permission to go out into the
woods that afternoon, and she lingered so
long, thinking over the strange adventure
with her unseen friend, and hoping again to
hear the sweet spirit-voice, that evening had
closed in, and the pale stars were seating
themselves, one by one, on their thrones in
168 THE WHITE VIOLET.
the far-off’ sky, when she bent her steps
homeward. .
She did not fear a scolding now, because
she had received permission to linger in the
woods as long as she chose, as a reward for her
diligence and gentleness during the day.
As she entered the garden gate, she heard
a voice moaning sadly, and though a little
frightened, cried out,
“ Who is there?â€
“It is I,†answered the voice of Fritz; “I
have hurt my leg, and cannot stir.â€
Fienna ran rapidly up the path from
whence the voice came: it was nearly dark,
and the shadows of the trees and shrubs lay
heavily upon the ground.
“Where are you, Fntz?†she exclaimed,
but just then she saw the boy lying just be-
fore her.
«How came you here, and what is the
matter? can’t you get up?†she asked anxi-
ously.
THE WHITE VIOLET. 169
“ T tell you I can’t move,†replied the boy,
impatiently, while he writhed in pain: “I
believe I have broken my leg.â€
Fienna was now very much frightened :
she ran to the house, calling loudly for his
mother, and then went to a neighbour's to
beg assistance in lifting Fritz.
The boy was soon surrounded by a group
of neighbours, two of whom lifted him care-
fully, and carried him to the house, where
he was laid upon the bed: he screamed out
whenever they moved or touched him, and
seemed in great pain.
When the physician came, he said the
boy’s ankle was broken, and he would per-
haps be a cripple all his life. All the long
night Fienna and his mother kept watch by
his bedside, for he could not sleep for pain,
and his moans were distressing to hear.
With the first dawn of daylight, little
Fienna went softly out into the garden ; she
felt exhausted and feverish from want of
170 THE WHITE VIOLET.
sleep, and the fresh morning air revived her:
then she remembered that she had neglected .
to water her precious violets the evening be-
fore, in her alarm about Fritz, and hastening
towards the spot where they grew, she saw
the string lying across the path; it was just
here that Fritz had fallen, and as she stooped
to untie the now broken twine, she could not
help the conviction that the boy had set this
snare for her, and had strangely enough
fallen into it himself. And thus it had hap-
pened: for Fritz, running down the path
to join a companion, entirely forgot the
string, and caught his foot in it, twisting his
ankle beneath him as he fell: and so the
evil he had prepared for another, returned
upon himself.
Fienna was delighted to see her violets
quite refreshed, and holding up their heads
bravely once more, There were very few
flowers left, however, but the buds were
plenty : the little girl gathered one fragrant
THE WHITE VIOLET. 171
_ flower, and returned thoughtfully to the
house.
For many weeks Fritz was forced to lie in
his bed unable to move: und all this time
little Fienna was his kind and attentive
nurse. The tuft of violets was thriving
wonderfully in the sunny spot where she had
planted it; and each day a freshly gathered
group was placed on a little stand by the
bedside of the suffering boy. Their sweet
fragrance filled the chamber, and insen-
sibly crept into the heart of Fritz, who
had full time now to reflect upon his past
conduct.
As he witnessed the untiring and patient
kindness of Fienna, and saw how cheerfully,
and even tenderly she sought to soothe his
anguish, and minister to his comfort, a keen
feeling of self-reproach and sorrow for all his
wickedness to her came over him; he could
not but acknowledge how just it was that he
should fall into the snare which he had set
172 THE WHITE VIOLET.
for her, and often wondered if Fienna knew
what had caused his fall.
Meanwhile the breath of the charmed
violets gently fanned these contrite feelings
into greater strength, and beneath their sweet
and holy influence, he became gentle, patient,
and grateful
His mother saw the change with wonder,
while Fienna blessed the precious violets
which she felt sure had worked this change,
and treasured them with redoubled care.
As Fritz began slowly to recover, he was
sitting one day propped up with pillows by
the open window: the soft summer air came
soothingly over his brow ; a little vase of the
sweet white violets stood upon the window-
seat, and mingled their rich fragrance with
the summer breeze. He could see the very
spot where he fell, and the tuft of white
violets gleamed like snow-flakes among the
green leaves,
Then as the flowers by his side sent their
THE WHITE VIOLET. 173
magical perfume into his heart, a change came
over his spirit. The evil feelings of envy and
malice fled away, and in their stead came re-
pentance and contrition. He turned with
tearful eyes to his mother and Fienna, and,
in a subdued and humble voice, told how he
had fastened the string to trip the little girl,
and had afterwards fallen over it himself; and
then he asked Fienna to forgive him, and
promised never to tease her any more.
His mother was surprised and indignant
at his recital, and began to reproach him
severely ; but little Fienna looked up in her
face with a pleading smile, and said,
“Do not reproach Fritz, because he is
sorry, and will never play such tricks again.
I found the string the next morning, but I
forgave him long ago. And now we will be
good friends always, won’t we, Fritz?†she
added, turning her beaming face towards the
boy.
The mother could not resist her gentle
174 THE WHITE VIOLET.
pleading. She kissed her son, and begged
him to keep his good resolves. Then it was
strange, yet delightful, to find what a deli-
cious perfume filled the little chamber, and
how the fragrance came wafted even from
the tuft of violets away in the garden, and
sunk into the hearts of those who were now
united in feelings of love and kindness to-
wards each other.
After a time Fritz grew strong, and was
able to leave his room. Then it was pleasant
to see how tenderly Fienna supported his
feeble steps as he slowly limped along with
his crutch, and how gratefully he received
her kindness. Fritz never recovered the use
of his ankle, but remained a cripple all his
life. He loved to assist Fienna in cultiva-
ting her violets, and most wondrously they
thrived beneath the united care of both.
The little tuft spread until it covered a
large plot of ground, and the white violets
became the admiration of all around ; while
THE WHITE VIOLET. ‘195
their rich fragrance floated on the air, and
made the atmosphere of Fienna’s home.
As time passed on, Fienna delighted in
gathering the little children about her, and
scattering the sweet white flowers among
them, with the inward hope that the rich
blessing of their charmed fragrance should
shed its holy influence over the hearts of all.
One lovely summer night the young girl
‘went to water her precious bed of violets, and
’ Fritz brought the water from a spring near
by. The pale moon shone clear in the blue
_ ky, and poured a flood of silver light full
upon the spotless flowers. As Fienna bent
lovingly over them, a soft voice seemed to
mingle with their delicious fragrance, and
these words were borne on the violet’s
breath,
“Are you happy now, Fienna ?â€
“Qh, yes; so very happy!†cried the
young girl, in a delighted tone; “‘and to
your lovely violets I owe it all, sweet spirit.â€
176 THE WHITE VIOLET.
“ Treasure them, then, with all your care.
and through the rough blasts of winter they
shall not perish ; neither shall their charmed
fragrance ever fade from your heart.â€
As these words died on her ear like the
sighing away of a breeze, Fienna was sure
that she saw, hovering above the bed of
violets, the faint outline of a fairy figure,
whose thin robes shone like a silver mist
in the pale moonlight; her fair hair was
wreathed with white violets, and her soft
eyes beamed kindly upon the young girl.
But even as Fienna gazed upon the lovely
vision, it faded from her sight; and turning
to Fritz, who had just placed the bucket of
water at her side, she eagerly asked if he
had seen the flower-spirit, or heard her
words.
Fritz shook his head, and smiled.
“Nay, Fienna, it was but the rustling of
the leaves,†he said, “and the shimmering
of the moonlight among the trees.â€
THE WHITE VIOLET. 177
Fienna said no more, but she felt a glow
of gratitude that the white violets had so far
purified her heart, that she might behold,
even faintly, the pure flower-spirit who had
turned her sorrow into gladness, and her
heavines to joy.
“It was the spirit of forgiveness!†said
Mabel Sutherland, as Aunt Elsie finished
the story.
“ And the sweet fragrance of the violets
was forbearance,†added Grace; “ for that
alone could have made Fienna bear with the
wicked pranks of Fritz, and win him to do
right after all.â€
Meanwhile Marian arose, and coming up
to Fred, put out her hand, saying, with a
slight blush and a pleasant smile,
“TI will kiss and be friends now, Fred,
Aunt Elsie’s sweet story has been tike the
breath of the violets to me. I am ashamed
of my ill-temper this morning, and will try
178 THE WHITE VIOLET.
to be more good-natured and forgiving here-
after; for indeed you deserve it.â€
“‘ Good!†exclaimed her cousin, as he grace-
fully accepted the proffered salute. “ It is
never too late to do well ; and for my part I
had no right to tease you so; though I won't
promise never to do so again, since this is
the way to make friends,†he added, with an
arch smile.
* Why, what is all this a’ out?†cried
Harry Wilder, who did not understand the
scene: ‘“ Have Marian and you been quarel-
ling, Fred ?â€
“Not exactly,
â€
returned Fred, smiling,
“merely acousinly difference, which I shrewd-
ly suspect Aunt Elsie has overheard.â€
“ No, no,†interrupted little Lilie. “I told
you Aunt Elsie was a fairy, and now I am
sure of it; she always knows just what we
want, and her stories suit us exactly, whe-
ther she knows what we have been doing or
not.â€
THE WHITE VIOLFT. 179
* I cannot claim any fairy-like pretensions
in this instance, however, Lilie,â€replied Aunt
Elsie, with a smile; “ because I did chance
to be an observer of a scene this morning
between two of my little people, which I
could not altogether approve: they were
both to blame; and as they have acknow-
ledged it, the white violet has not breathed
its kindly teachings in vain.â€
* But I was the most to blame,†returned
Marian ; “because though Fred did tease
me, it was all in fun; and when he offered
to mend the mischief so cheerfully, I should
have forgiven him at once.â€
“And I should not have persisted in
what I saw was annoying to you,†said
' Fred; “for no one can be always in the
humour for sport.â€
“I am glad to see you both so ready to
acknowledge your fault,†said the dear Aunt
Elsie, with an approving smile ; “ and if you
remember hereafter to do unto others as you
180 THE WHITE VIOLET.
would they should do to you, you will have
less reason for self-reproach.â€
* Well,†cried Kate, “ I wish that charmed
violets grew now-a-days: for I defy any one
to keep their temper with such a torment
as that Fritz must have been, unless they
constantly carried the white violet in their
bosom.â€
“That is what Aunt Elsie’s pretty story
teaches us, Kate,†returned Clara; “ we
must bear and forbear, forgive and forget.â€
“You remember,†added Edith, gently,
“where we are taught to do good to those
who hate us, and pray for those who despite-
fully use and persecute us: it is the lesson
of returning good for evil that Aunt Elsie’s
story teaches, I think.â€
“ Yes,†continued Arthur, “and of patient
forbearance besides ; ‘a soft answer turneth
aside wrath;’ and little Fienna’s gentle en-
durance conquered even Fritz at last, when
all her anger and hate had failed.â€
THE WIITE VIOLET. 18]
« That reminds me of the fable about the
sun and the wind, who laid a wager which
could the soonest cause a traveller to lay
aside his cloak,†said Harry Wilder. “The
wind puffed and blew, but the traveller only
folded his cloak closer about him and went on.
Then the sun sent his pleasant warm beams
full upon him, and the traveller was glad to
take off his cloak, and so trudged on merrily
without it, while the sun won the wager.â€
“So after this let us all resolve to be sun-
beams,†cried Ellen.
“ We will, we will!†cried many voices.
“In that case,†said Aunt Elsie, with a
smile, and rising as she spoke, “I am happy
in being able to carry so many sunbeams
home with me; for see, the sun himself has
folded his purple robe about him and left the
sky; and it is time to return, as the dews
are beginning to fall.â€
The little party then gathered their various
articles of employment together, and left the
182 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
woods, chatting pleasantly as they went, of
- the story of the white violets, and the happy
day they had passed.
CHAPTER VI.
* Loox, look!†cried Robert Sutherland, as
the little party were gathered upon the
piazza one afternoon; “what a beautiful
pair of ponies before that little carriage !
See how gracefully they hold up their heads
as they dash along the road. It is a real
stylish turn-out. I wonder whose it can be.â€
“Oh, that belongs to our neighbour, Mr.
Morse, who lives in the large stone house
that looks like a castle up there on the hill,â€
replied Edith, who, with the rest of the group,
had been attracted by Robert’s exclamation.
“Or rather to his only son, who is now
home from college a while, I believe,†added
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 183
Arthur; “and already makes quite a sensa-
tion with his spirited horses.â€
‘More than he ever will with his books,
Iam thinking,†continued Harry; “for he
is too fond of pleasure to be much of a stu-
dent, though a young lad of fine talents.â€
“ See !†exclaimed little Lilie, “ the ponies
are coming down the road again, and now
they are stopping at our gate.â€
* Yes, and there is young Morse himself ;
he has jumped out, and is doubtless coming to
pay his respects to Aunt Elsie,†said Arthur.
As he spoke, a tall young stripling sprang
from the carriage, and throwing the reins to
his groom, rapidly passed up the gravel walk,
and joined the group upon the piazza. He
was welcomed by Aunt Elsie and those of
the party with whom he was acquainted,
and after a general introduction to the rest,
a lively conversation ensued, in which their
visitor certainly took the lead, with an air of
easy self-possession.
184 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
Robert meanwhile slipped off unobserved
into the road, and was so intent asking the
groom questions, and admiring the elegant
equipage and spirited ponies, that he did not
observe the approach of their owner until he
heard him say, ina good-natured tone,
“ Fond of ponies, are you, my little fellow?
Step in and I will give you a turn.â€
Robert did not wait a second bidding, but
sprang into the carriage with a delighted
face; and the young owner, taking the reins,
desired his groom, in an authoritative man-
ner, to await his return, and then touching
the ponies with the lash, they dashed off in
fine style.
In about half an hour they returned, and
Robert was left at the gate. He joined his
companions with rapturous expressions about
the delightful drive he had taken.
“ You were more fortunate than the rest
of us, Robert,†said Fred, “for we only re-
ceived a general invitation to pay a vicit,
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 185
while you have already come in for a sub-
stantial favour.â€
“Yes, we had a grand drive,†returned
Robert. “Young Morse made the ponies
go famously. I wish he had let me drive ;
but I did not like to ask him.â€
“He would scarcely trust such a little
fellow as you are,†replied his sister Mabel.
“ Why, he is but four years older himself,â€
said her brother; “and he says he always
drives. Oh, what a fine thing it is to be
rich; one can then have every thing he
wants!â€
* Not always,†returned Edith ; “ for Mr.
Morse himself, the father of your new friend,
is a confirmed invalid, and unable to enjoy
any of the luxuries about him. So you see
that health and wealth do not always go
hand in hand at least.â€
“ No,†answered the boy, positively : “but
poor people are as often ill as the rich; and
then I am sure they are worse off. When I
186 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
grow a man I am determined to become
rich, for no one can be happy without
money.â€
No one replied to this speech, as the little
party now set out for a stroll; and though
their way led through beautiful paths, and
the sky was rich with a gorgeous sunset,
Robert had no eyes or thoughts for any thing
else than the enviable owner of the dashing
ponies; and he was constantly ejaculating
wishes and comparisons between their fortu-
nate possessor and himself.
“If I was only in young Morse’s place !â€
he cried. “If those ponies were only mine,
wouldn’t I dash along the road and make the
dust fly !â€
“T don’t think the dust would be a very
desirable accompaniment on such a day as
this,†said Fred, dryly.
*T am sure,†added Grace, “it is much
pleasanter to stroll through these shaded
paths, than to whirl over a hot and dusty
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 187
road like a steam-engine, with no time to see
anything as you pass.â€
“Yes,†continued Kate; “and here you
can run and jump, or do just as you like:
for my part, I don’t see the great pleasure of
driving.â€
“Oh, it is very well for you girls to talk
so,†retorted her brother, with an air of
superiority ; “but we boys have different
notions. I shall have a pair of ponies yet,
come what may, only I wish I had them
now, to drive about as young Morse does.
I wish father was as rich as Mr. Morse.â€
Aunt Elsie took no part in the conversa-
tion, although she heard it all: she preferred
allowing her little people to express their
various tastes and opinions freely, and seldom
made a remark, unless directly referred to.
Tea awaited them upon their return, and
after it was duly discussed, the party as-
sembled upon the piazza, and several of the
children petitioned Aunt Elsie for a story,
188 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
as some days had elapsed since they had
heard one; and even Robert forgot the
ponies for 4 time, and joined in the request.
The good old lady, who liked to gratify
her little people, and hoped to impart a lesson
besides, did not refuse the request ; but send-
ing for the old portfolio, read to them the
Story uf Master Snip.
In one of the narrowest and dirtiest alleys
of a certain great city, stood a very tall old
house, so begrimed with smoke and dirt, that
whether it was built of brick, wood, or stone,
the most curious could not decide: and up a
great many flights of rickety stairs, in the
topmost story or garret of this gloomy old
house, lived a miserable tailor, whom we
shall call Master Snip, which is as good a
name as any, and one that many a man of
the same trade has borne besides.
Master Snip, then, the tailor, lived after
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 189
a fashion in this lofty abode, with no better
companions than the rats, who often visited
him in a neighbourly way, to beg a crumb or
two. But as the tailor’s larder was very
poorly supplied, the rats would soon have
grown as thin as himself, had they depended
on his supplies, which in truth they did not,
as the fearful onslaughts upon certain great
cheeses in some well-filled dairies in the
neighbourhood could abundantly testify.
Poor Master Snip had but little to do in
the way of employment at his trade, and so
he amused himself peeping from his high
window down into the houses which stood
upon the main street, feasting his eyes upon
the goodly display of viands which were each
day there served up in the most tempting
manner, and making himself acquainted with
the various professions and habits of the
fortunate dwellers therein. In this manner
he may be said to have looked down upon
his neighbours.
190 STORY OF MASTEK SNIP.
But the particular feelings with which
Master Snip looked down upon these people,
whose indoor economy he so eagerly studied,
were very far from being scornful or con-
temptuous. His first peep came from idle-
ness; his next, curiosity; his third, envy ;
and then covetousness crept into his heart.
“ How comes it,†he soliloquized, “that
some are made rich and others poor without
any fault of their own? Here I may starve
to death on a crust in this garret, while my
neighbour feasts on rich food in an elegant
home. These things are not right. If I
could only grow rich now! Yes, and rich I
would be if I only knew how to begin.â€
This train of thoughts often filled the poor
tailor’s mind ; and once as he sat indulging
them in the twilight, he suddenly heard a
voice in reply. It came from his old goose
(which is, as you may know, the tailor’s
pressing iron).
“T will make you rich,†said the goose,
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 191
“if you use me well: I will lay you a golden
egg every week.â€
“ You, indeed!†retorted the tailor, in a
contemptuous tone. ‘* What are you but a
bit of iron? Yow lay golden eggs! I should
like to see them.â€
“So I thought,†answered the voice, dry-
ly; “but if I rest here idle on the work-
board forever, no golden eggs will you ever
see.â€
“And here am I rusting in the patch,â€
cried a sharp little voice, which the tailor
knew was the needle’s, “ when, if you would
but use me well, I would spin you golden
thread enough to weave a whole coat, finer
than any of your neighbours’.â€
“Did I ever hear such nonsense!†re-
turned Master Snip, with a jeering laugh:
“why, you are nothing but an insignificant
needle, and a short one at that; and you
have but one eye besides: you spin golden
thread! what a joke!â€
192 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
The needle, who rather prided herself
upon her abilities, felt quite indignant at
this.
“You will find my one eye of more use
than your two,†she replied sharply, “ if you
do nothing else with them than just to stare
at your neighbours.â€
The tailor was meditating a cutting reply
to this remark, when he suddenly found
himself tumbling off the rickety three-legged
stool whereon he was perched ; and upon re-
covering himself, the idea of the goose or the
needle holding up a conversation, seemed. so
absurd, that he laughed aloud at his own con-
ceit, and concluded he had been dreaming.
The next morning, however, finding the
closet empty, and not a crumb left for break-
fast, Master Snip produced his last remain-
ing piece of work, and thrusting the goose
in the stove, threaded his needle, and began
to stitch hurriedly away; anxious to prove
the truth of his vision.
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 193
But, alas! the eager tailor pulled his
thread so hard that it snapped continually,
till at last he threw down the needle in a
rage, and snatching up the goose (which, if
it had not been iron, would surely have been
roasted toa crisp), he essayed to press the
seam, but burnt his cloth in the endeavour !
Then the poor tailor flung aside the goose
in mingled rage and despair.
“This comes of listening to idle babblers,â€
he cried, “or believing in dreams: it is I
who am the goose now.â€
So he suffered the iron to cool on the spot
where he threw it, and the needle to remain
pertly stuck up in the patch, while he re-
sumed his favourite position at the window.
How many hours passed in this way, the
tailor himself never knew, for he had become
so used to going hungry, that the sight of his
neighbours viands seemed like a meal to him,
as he allowed himself to imagine all he would
say and do, were he in their place. But at
N
194 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
last he was recalled to realities by a low tap
at the door, and without waiting a response,
a Kittle figure opened it, and walked in.
The tailor jumped down from his seat in
the window, and confronted his visitor.
He was little and old, with restless eyes
that seemed like living coals as they turned
searchingly towards every corner of the mi-
serable garret. His face was yellow as gold,
and crossed with a perfect network of wrin-
kles; and his whole countenance wore a
pinched and starved look, not unlike the tailor
himself.
“Will you put a stitch in my coat, friend?â€
he said, in a grating, husky voice, “ just out
of charity, for I am very poor ;†and he dis-
_played a shockingly tattered old coat as he
spoke.
“Charity and poor, forsooth!†returned the
tailor, scoffingly. “Who is poorer or more in
need of charity than myself? No, no, friend,
charity don’t buy bread. I work for gold.â€
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 195
“Gold !†said the stranger, with a sudden
lighting up of the eyes like a flame. “Do
you love gold better than charity? Will
you turn a beggar from your door unaided,
because he has not gold to buy a kind-
ness ?â€â€
“TI love not beggars,†retorted the tailor,
gloomily, for the fiery flash of the old man’s
eyes seemed to burn into his heart. “I love
not beggars, seeing I am one myself; neither
love I charity, for it reaches me not here in
my high abode. I am above such weaknesses
of men ; therefore get thee gone, old man, or
give me gold—red, shining gold. This I
love better than mercy—better than life; for
what is life without it? Gold, give me gold!â€
and he clutched the empty air, as he spoke,
with a phrensied grasp.
The old man fixed his searching eyes upon
the tailor’s excited face: he neither besought
his pity nor turned to go away.
“T like you well,†he said at last. ‘“ Now
196 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
sew my coat: see, here is the gold you covet,
and more shall follow.â€
To the infinite surprise of the tailor, the
strange old man produced a piece of gold
from his pocket, and held it temptingly dis-
played upon his palm.
The tailor’s eyes glistened at the sight.
So you are not a beggar, after all,†he
said. “Who are you, then?â€
“Men call me by many names,†replied
the other, with a low mocking laugh; “but
my title matters little to you, if I prove a
good master and pay you well in gold. Come,
let me judge of your work ; and here is your
price.â€
Mechanically Master Snip hunted up the
neglected needle and shears. He was puzzled
and bewildered by this strange adventure,
and gave himself a sly pinch to make sure he
was awake; for he thought it might be but a
vision, like that of the needle and goose.
The stranger’s torn coat was soon neatly
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 197
repaired, and the piece of gold slipped into
- the palm of the expectant tailor, who turned
it over and over with a delighted gaze. It
was not a joyous look of relief from present
want, however, that gleamed from the tailor’s
eyes, but a gloating, fond expression, that
said, as plain as eyes could speak,
“T have got you at last, and mean to keep
you.â€
This look was not lost upon the stranger,
who said, while an odd smile wrinkled about
his mouth,
“ Well, and what use will you make of the
gold, friend Snip? buy bread I suppose?â€
With his eyes still fixed thoughtfully upon
the piece of money, the tailor replied,
*T will keep it. The sight of gold glad-
dens my heart, and I forget hunger. No, no;
this shining face shall bring good company
yet: he will make sweet music as he chinks
agaist another. Ah! methinks I can already
hear the sound.â€
198 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
“The chink of gold is sweet to your ears,
said the queer little man. ‘Good! you
shall have plenty. Know me as the lord of
a rich domain, the master of many servants.
You shall make all their livery. What say
you Pâ€
Master Snip looked up with an incredu-
lous air: he doubted the words of the
stranger; but poor as he looked, he had
already paid one gold piece, and might not
others follow ?
His visitor seemed to divine his thoughts,
and his yellow face brightened as he con-
tinued :
“TI will send one of my servants to-mor-
row with a coat to be made, Master Snip;
and if your work pleases me, I will mind and
keep my word: we shall see. You will own
me yet for your master; and the price that
is paid shall be gold—hard, shining gold.â€
With a chuckling laugh the old man
turned and left the garret as he spoke.
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 199
Nothing but the piece of gold that vet
rested in his palm could convince Master
Snip that all which had passed was not a
dream—a vision sent to cheat him; but there
was no denying the reality of the piece itself.
He rung it on the work-board; he chinked
it against the goose (in want of a better
metal); he tasted it to be sure it contained
no brass: he dropped it in his pocket, and
tried to forget it was there; and then jerked
it out suddenly, almost expecting to find it
changed into a gingernut, as he had heard
fairy gold was apt to be.
But this was no fairy gold, no antique
coin dug up from a buried treasure long hid-
den in the earth. It was respectable, new,
shining gold, bearing date the year before,
and with all due and lawful signs of the
mint upon it.
Master Snip had better employment now
than watching his neighbours; his golden
dreams had at least a foundation, and he
200 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
devised a thousand ways of giving his solitary
treasure a companion. Among all his hopes
and plans the queer old stranger's promise
was not forgotten ; and when the tailor at
last lay down to sleep, his newly obtained
treasure was hidden next his heart, and
certamly filled his mind with wild, vague
dreams.
With the earliest dawn the tailor arose;
and as the pangs of hunger could no longer
be controlled, he crept down the rickety
stairs, still hugging his precious gold to his
bosom, and passing through the alley into the
street, begged at the door of one of the
mansions for a mouthful of bread.
of broken meats was handed him, from which
he made a hearty repast ; and the conscious-
ness that he carried in his breast the means
of procuring a comfortable meal, seemed to
give an added keenness to his appetite.
Refreshed with this and a draught of
water from a neighbouring pump, Master
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 201
Snip returned to his garret; and the first
object that greeted him upon his entrance,
was the figure of a stranger, who carried a
parcel, and was gazing about as if in search
of some one.
“Are you Master Snip?†asked he, as the
tailor entered. “I have heard you work
well: so here is a coat which must be fin-
ished by to-morrow night; and this is the
thread to sew it. Be punctual, and your
price shall be paid at once.â€
So saying, the stranger turned and went
away, leaving our tailor somewhat surprised
at this piece of good luck. He concluded
that this must be one of the old man’s ser-
vants, and eagerly unfastened the bundle to
see the style of livery.
But it was a sober-coloured coat enough,
with neither gay facings nor gilt buttons to
distinguish it from the suit of any good
citizen. The broad-cloth, though, was of
the finest kind, and the thread awakencd
202 STORY OF MASTER SNIP,
the tailor's wonder, for it seemed to be
of spun gold, fine as a hair, and flexible as
silk,
* Ho, ho,†thought Master Snip, “ my new
customer has his servants’ coats embroidered,
_ but I can do no such fancy-work ;†and he
turned the cloth about, expecting to find a
pattern traced thereon—but there was none.
So the tailor at last sat down to his work,
and stitched away right merrily. ‘Fhe golden
thread worked famously: it neither tangled
nor snapped, and made all the seams look
beautifully besides.
In due time the coat was finished, and a
skein of the gold thread left, hesides a few
odd needlefuls. Master Snip carefully folded
up the odd bits of thread and put them in
the pocket of the new coat; but the skein
he laid aside. He had scarcely done so,
when, looking up, he beheld his queer little
old visitor, who stood grinning upon him.
“So, the coat is finished, Master Snip,â€
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 203
he said, in his cracked, harsh tones, and
examining the work as he spoke. “Very
well done ; and what is this in the pocket: ?â€
“Some thread that was left,†answered
the tailor. “As it seemed to be gold, it is
but right to return it.â€
“Truly thou art an honest tailor,†re-
turned the little man, with a mocking laugh ;
‘for while remembering others, thou dost
not forget thyself.†And reaching across
the work-board as he spoke, he drew forth
the golden skein from its concealment and
held it dangling upon his long fingers, as
he fixed his keen fiery glance on the detected
tailor.
“ You found my golden thread pleasant to
use,†said the queer customer, after a pause,
‘and so you kept some for yourself. That
was prudent: I like it. Now where is your
piece of gold? not changed, eh?â€
“It is here,†replied the abashed tailor,
who knew not whether the little old fellow
204 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
was sneering at him or not, and drawing the
piece from his breast as he spoke.
“‘ Good !†returned the other, in a decided
tone : and taking the coin from the reluctant
fingers of Master Snip, he rapidly unwound
the golden skein and strung the piece of
money upon it, much to the surprise of its
owner, who watched every movement with
trembling eagerness ; for the tailor had never
noticed any hole in the piece of gold through
which even so fine a thread might pass.
There it hung, however, dangling before his
eyes like a locket ; and the little man, fasten-
ing it about the tailor’s neck, said—
“ Wear this as a sign that you are bound
to work for me so long as it remains upon
your neck. I will find you enough to do,
and pay you well in the bargain : but should
you lay it aside, our agreement is broken—
you are no longer servant of mine. What
say you, Master Snip ? do you love gold weil
enough to own me for a master ?â€
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 205
«That in truth do I,†returned the happy
tailor, now relieved from the fear of having
offended, which he had felt. “ And he is
the best master who gives me the most shin-
ing gold, let his name be what it may.â€
“Then our bargain is made,†said the
queer old man, with a chuckling laugh.
“You shall yet pile your gold in heaps, and
I will help you count it.â€
So saying, he nodded familiarly to the
wondering Snip, and left the garret.
Scarcely had he gone when the owner
of the coat came in; and taking the new
garment, paid the price in several pieces of
new bright gold, and went his way.
From this time Master Snip was never
unemployed. Work poured in upon him
from his new master ; and innumerable were
the hanks of golden thread that he at length
collected, while his piles of gold constantly
increased.
He was a very droll personage, this new
206 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
employer of Master Snip; and the lucky
tailor often puzzled his wits and strained his
eyes on a Sunday, when he stole into the
street a few minutes, to discover some of his
servants, of whom he seemed to possess a host.
Sometimes the tailor thought he detected the
gleaming of the golden thread in the seams
of some passer's coat; but upon following
the person, he would oftentimes prove to be
a sober citizen of great wealth and high re-
pute, on his way perhaps to the sanctuary ;
so of course the tailor thought himself mis-
taken, and very likely he was.
By and by Master Snip went no more
into the streets even on Sunday. Every
leisure moment was passed in gloating over
his heaps of gold, and counting the pieces,
one by one, to make sure all were safe.
Oftentimes his strange customer would come
in upon him unawares while he was thus
employed, and looking over the tailor’s shoul-
der, would count the money with him, and
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 207
extol his prudence ; while his searching eyes
lighted up as with a flame within.
Though possessed of wealth suflicient to
live quite as weil, if not better, than the
neighbours he once envied, Master Snip’s
miserable garret remained unimproved. It
was even more dilapidated than formerly, for
there were great oper. places in the roof,
through which the sleet anu rain poured in,
and the bleak winds whistled on their way.
The larder was so scantily supplied that the
rats ran away in despair, and left the miserly
tailor alone in his glory.
But the chink of the precious gold made
the perfect happiness of Master Snip. Hun-
ger and cold were forgotten as he feasted his
eyes on the glittering heaps, and warmed his
heart in their shining light.
What he had at first coveted as a means
of procuring enjoyment, now became the end -
of all his hopes; and thus day after day
passed on, until years had rolled away, and
208 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
each one found him more wetched, more
starving, yet richer than before.
Meanwhile the golden skein and piece or
money which his mysterious employer had
fastened about the neck of the tailor, grew
heavier every day. The thread once so fine
had now become a great chain; and the
piece of gold hung heavy like a crushing
weight upon his heart. The light livery of
the servant had deepened into the strong
fetters of the slave ; and the tailor no longer
had the power, even had he felt the will, to
leave his master.
But of all this Master Snip happily knew
nothing. He wore his chains easily ; they
never chafed him, because he did not try to
cast them off.
Time wore away. Master Snip grew old:
his eyes were dim, and he could no longer
thread his needle. His hand trembled, and
he burned the seam which he strove to press.
So the tailor abandoned his work-board, and
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 209
spent all his days in commune with his
gold.
As he was thus engaged one day when the
twilight was creeping on apace, the voice of
his master“suddenly smote upon his ear with
an angry tone:
“How now Master Snip! here are piles
of work undone. Up and finish them at once,
or you are no longer servant of mine.â€
*T am old,†replied the tailor, in a dri-
velling voice ; ‘and I cannot see: my hands
tremble, else would I fain work more.â€
* Too old to work !†returned the yellow
old man, in angry tones; “then are you not
fit to serve me. Give back my badge of ser-
vice.â€
Poor Master Snip essayed in vain to lift
the chain from his feeble shoulders, that
trembled beneath its weight. He could not
so much as move it; so, hugging it closer to
his bosom, he entreated,
“T have served you faithfully : bear with
0
210 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
me yet awhile longer ;†and again he turned
fondly towards his heaps of gold.
“ Yes, you have served me faithfully,†re-
turned the strange little man, in a scornful
voice; “and well have you been repaid;
here are piles of yellow shining gold. Have
they brought one comfort for yourself or
‘others? Are you better or happier in their
possession ?â€
The tailor’s appealing look, as he spread
his feeble hands above the golden heaps,
seemed to reply.
“ They have made your happiness, but you
must leave them now. You can serve me
here no more, but are bound to me forever.
Come.â€
The form of the mysterious old man seemed
to dilate as he spoke, and he passed his arm
about the shivering frame of the wretched
tailor, who suddenly felt himself borne
through the air, stretching his arms towards
the heaps of treasure as he went.
STORY OF MASTER SNIP, 911
Master Snip was taken up from the pave-
ment insensible; and when at last he shud-
deringly returned to consciousness, it was to
find himself stretched, with bruised body and
broken limb, upon his wretched straw pallet.
For a while his brain was confused, his mind
wandered, and he puzzled those whom sym-
pathy had gathered around him, by his inco-
herent ravings about his heaps of gold.
But when at last the poor tailor recovered,
which he did after a great deal of suffering
(for dependant as he was upon his poor
neighbours for kindness and attention, and
his rich ones for means to supply his wants,
his recovery was but slow), his first effort
was to reach the old closet where his trea-
sure had been stored: it was quite empty;
not a vestige remained of the golden heaps
or the hanks of thread. Master Snip rubbed
his forehead, and marvelled; and well he
might.
He was told that he fell from his garret
212 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
window, where he had been seen sitting for
some time, as was his habit : it was supposed
he had fallen asleep, and thus lost his balance;
but the tailor shook his head and sighed ; he
was sure that the terrible little old man had
dropped him there. But of this adventure
he wisely said nothing to his neighbours ;
especially as viewing himself in the cracked
glass one day, he saw his countenance re-
flected, pale and emaciated to be sure, but
bearing no marks of old age upon it. So the
tailor concluded that he or the garret was
bewitched ; and soon, by means of assistance,
removed to a lower room, carrying his needle
and goose along.
Here, under more cheerful influences, and
without the power of looking down upon his
neighbours, now that he had left his lofty
abode, Master Snip betook himself again to
work. His experience of gold-hoarding, whe-
ther real or fancied, had thegood effect of mak-
ing him much more reasonable in his desires.
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 213
And now, as he stitched cheerfully away, the
sharp little needle did its duty bravely, and
the old goose never scorched a seam ; and
though the needle did not really spin golden
thread, nor the iron goose lay eggs of the
same precious material, they did much better,
for they supported their owner in cheerful
comfort, and taught Master Snip the impor-
tant truth, that contented industry makes
happier hearts than the stores of a miser’s
gold.
“Tam so glad it turned out to be a dream
after all,†said Lilie, drawing a sigh of relief,
as Aunt Elsie paused: “because it was
really too terrible for that wicked old man
to fly away with poor Master Snip.â€
* Terrible, indeed,†returned Robert,
thoughtfully. “ Aunt Elsie’s story teaches
the fearful end of covetousness; and she
meant me to apply it, because I am so apt
to crave what I see, and long to be rich :
214 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
though I do not think I should ever become
a miser, as the poor tailor did.â€
**I should hope not, indeed,†replied Aunt
Elsie, in a kind, yet grave tone ; “but what-
ever may be the end in view, the acquisition
of wealth, if allowed to become an absorbing
desire, will in time engross all the energies,
and totally unfit the mind for any higher or
nobler pursuit ; and this is but one of the
many evils which eagerness for riches brings
in its train.â€
“ And yet,†added Mabel, “it must be
pleasant to possess the means of doing so
much good: a rich man has a great deal in
his power, he can confer happiness on so
many.â€
“He has also a heavy responsibility rest-
ing upon him,†continued Aunt Elsie; “ for
he is but the steward of his master, and must
render an account of the just use of the means
here intrusted him.â€
“Yes,†added Arthur ; “and I have often
STORY OF MASTER SNIP. 915
thought that those with moderate means ac-
complished quite as much as the rich in their
way. Little streams fertilize the earth, as
well as great rivers, though nobody notices
them as they glide quietly along.â€
“Well said, Arthur,†returned Harry
Wilder. ‘I am for moderation in all things:
one need never sigh for a carriage, so long as
his limbs can carry him bravely.â€
“What a fuss people make about money !â€
cried Kate, who, having never known a pri-
vation, could not feel its importance. “I
don’t see why they cannot get along very
well without it, or at least, with very little.
I am gure I like a plain calico frock, that I
am not afraid of tearing, better than the
gayest silk in the world ; and would rather
race through the fields, and jump over hedges,
than to ride in a coach drawn by the finest
ponies Robert could drive.â€
“Pretty well, Kate,†said Fred Lee:
“you are the first young lady I ever heard
216 STORY OF MASTER SNIP.
openly disdain a fine carriage and dress.
You would make an admirable little squaw,
and even then set an example of simplicity.
But, all joking apart, I have often thought
it would be rather pleasant to be poor, and
entirely dependent on one’s own ingenuity
and industry for support. It sharpens the
wits, to keep them constantly busy; and
when you have but little, you enjoy it.â€
* You would like to be a second Robinson
Crusoe, perhaps,†suggested Frank, laugh-
ing.
“ Well,†cried Edward, “some of us pre-
fer to be rich, and others would rather be
poor: let us put it to vote, and see which
side carries the day. Aunt Elsie’s vote is
first.â€
“I doubt whether any of you are capable
of judging yet,†now spoke Aunt Elsie ;
“but I shall certainly cast my vote with
Harry’s; for, as the truth is said to exist
between two~ extremes, so contentment is
THE SINGING BIRD FROM FAIRY-LAND. 217
found in moderate possessions, and to me the
prayer of the pious Agur seems equally wise
and beautiful :
“ Give me neither poverty nor riches, lest
I be poor and steal: lest I be full, and deny
the Lord.â€
CHAPTER VII.
Tue little party had been down in the vil-
lage making some purchases for Aunt Elsie
and themselves. On their way homeward,
they called upon a poor widow, who was a
kind of pensioner of Aunt Elsie’s, and in
whom the children felt much interested.
She lived in a very plain little house by
the road-side ; it was not tasteful enough to
be properly called a cottage; and the small
garden-patch in front was filled with an odd
mixture of vegetables and flowers. Large
218 THE SINGING BIRD
cabbages jostled aside the hardy ladyslippers,
that would spring up just wherever they
pleased; a little bed of radishes, nicely
bordered with peppergrass, flourished se-
curely under the protection of a lilac-bush,
that grew in the path; ragged-sailors and
columbines were in sociable companionship
with parsley and onions; while around the
picket-fence, and away over the beds, in
whatever crooked course they chose to take,
the nasturtium vines scrambled about, min-
gling their brilliant blossoms indiscriminately
among vegetables and flowers, claiming no
place with either class, but combining in
themselves both ornament and use. Tall
sunflowers grew along the fence, like sentries
guarding the inclosure; but their services
were altogether needless, since no passer-by
deigned so much as a glance towards this
. disorderly garden, which certainly did not
appear very inviting.
Uncultivated and neglected as it appeared,
FROM FAIRY LAND. 219
however, the poor widow derived from it
some support. She had no person to take
any care of it but herself, and she had but
little time to spare, else it would not have
worn so deserted a look.
The widow had known better days, but
now she lived in two rooms with her only
daughter, who was blind, and took much of
her mother’s time, and all her love and care.
The poorly furnished rooms were scrupulously
neat and clean; and it was no wonder that
the out-door work was neglected, when so
much time was necessarily employed within.
The blind daughter was not the poor
widow's only child: she had one son, who
had gone to sea many months before, and of
whom his mother had not heard since his
departure; but she never gave up the hope
of his return.
The widow herself was lame, and thus
poor and afflicted, she might well have sunk
beneath her sorrows, had not a strong re-
220 THE SINGING BIRD
ligious faith upheld her, and a hopeful spirit
cheered her on.
She welcomed the little party warmly
when they entered, and received with thank-
fulness the things they brought. After a
while they led her to speak of herself, and
were surprised at the cheerful trust with
which she looked forward to the future.
“The doctor says that Liddy’s eyes are
better,†she said, in continuance of their con-
versation; “and I hope her sight will yet be
restored ; and though I have not heard a single
word of her brother for many, many months,
I hope yet to see him again before I die.â€
After their return home, the children
spoke frequently of the poor widow, and
Aunt Elsie listened with interest to all they
told her of their conversation.
The kind old lady shook her head and
sighed when they related the widow’s hopes
regarding her daughter’s sight and son’s re-
turn,
ey Wa i= wm
KE ae
Ve o*
—_ nt
-
"tn.
Then the baskets were brought forth, and a fresh white table-cloth
Spread upon the smooth bank, &¢.—Page 137
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 221
“I am afraid poor Liddy will never see
again,†she said. “All hope in this case
must end in disappointment: several phy-
sicians of eminence have pronounced her in-
curable; and yet it is strange how readily
hope springs up a,ain in the heart, even from
the ashes of despair.â€
“Her mother seems very much encouraged
now,†returned Edith, “and is denying her-
self in every way to procure the medicines
which have been advised. Would it not be
' better for some friend to tell her at once how
useless all her efforts are? It is sorrowful to
see her thns deceiving herself with a hope
that can never be fulfilled.â€
I think not,†replied Aunt Elsie, ‘for
she finds pleasure in hoping: without it what
a dreary blank her future would be! Besides,
it is a satisfaction to her to feel that she
has done what she could.â€
“Do you know,†said Harry Wilder, look-
ing up suddenly with one of his queer, yet
992 THE SINGING BIRD
thoughtful smiles, “that I sometimes think
hope a decided cheat, and one that should
not be admitted among the desirables at all,
she so often deceives and misleads folks?â€
“You must take care to have your hope
well grounded,†returned Mabel.
“But a well-grounded hope amounts to
almost a certainty,†said Arthur; “and then
it nearly ceases to be a hope at all.â€
“T don’t see how we could live without
hope,†remarked Grace: “it is as natural to
hope as to breathe: we cannot help it.â€
“You are all conversing very sensibly, I
dare say,†now chimed in Fred; “but as I
don’t feel capable of taking any part in the
conversation, J hope Aunt Elsie will read us
a story; and if she will, I shall then be done
with hope, because I shall have nothing left
to hope for.â€
* You are getting rather logical, Fred,â€
‘said Harry Wilder, laughingly.
“Well,†cried Lilie, “it seems to me hopes
FROM FAIRY LAND. 993
and wishes must be just alike, because poor
Liddy’s mother wishes her eyes would get
well, I know, and I wish Aunt Elsie would
read a story for us. Will you, dear Aunt
Elsie?†she added, coaxingly: “kind fairies
always grant good wishes, you know.â€
* But is this a good wish, Lilie?†asked
the old lady, with a smile. “Are you quite
sure it is unselfish, and that all the rest of
your companions are as ready to hear as your-
self and Fred? You know I like to have a
full audience present, and perhaps all may
not care to listen to-day.â€
“Oh, yes, Aunt Elsie, you know we all
like to hear your stories,†cried many voices;
and after a little more talking and bustling,
the whole party quietly settled down to listen
in silence, while the indulgent Aunt Elsie
read to them a story which she called
224 THE SINGING BIRD
Whe Singing Bird from Fairy-Lonb.
Far away in a distant country, where neither
you nor I have ever been, and it is not at all
likely ever will be, there lived once upon a
time a poor little boy, who had neither father
nor mother, nor, indeed, any one in the world
to love and take care of him.
A wood-cutter had found him in the woods
(though how he came there I do not know,)
and given him something to eat, allowing the
child to go with him as he worked; but when,
after many seasons, the man had sold wood
enough, he wanted to return home; but the
wood-cutter had a wife and plenty of chil-
dren of his own, and therefore left poor little
Kurt behind him to get along as best he
could.
Kurt begged very hard to go with the
wood-cutter, but the man answered that he
had mouths enough to fill already; and so
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 295
giving the lad a loaf of bread, and some goat’s
milk cheese, bade him good-by, and trudged
homeward.
When the little boy found himself all
alone in the great woods, he felt very sad and
frightened. ‘The wood-cutter had often left
him alone before, and he did not think of
being afraid; but now he knew the man
would never come back, and so felt very
desolate.
He had never been out of the woods in his
life, and he dared not try and find the way
for fear of the wild beasts, who often went
prowling about. He ran a little way after
the wood-cutter, but the man threatened to
whip him if he followed, and the poor little
fellow was forced to go sorrowfully back.
All day long Kurt wandered dolefully
about, crying as if his heart would break.
When night came he sat down under the
trees, and looked up at the bright moon,
wondering whether he should find his way
P
296 THE SINGING BIRD
out of the forest if he followed the paths he
took. As he sat there so sorrowful in the
pale moonlight, suddenly he heard 4 soft
little voice call—
“ Kurt, Kurt! what makes you s0
sad?â€
Kurt looked all around, but saw nobody:
he looked up, there was only the blue sky
and the bright moon gazing so steadily on
him, but never speaking a word: he cast his
eyes down, there was only the green grass
and the streaming moonshine. Kurt thought
he must be dreaming.
Presently a small twig of the tree beneath
which he was lying, trembled as if with the
weight of a little bird, and again he heard
the same voice saying,
“Teli me, Kurt, why you are sad?â€
Now the little boy looked up at the slender
spray, and there seated upon it, and swaying
to and fro in the fresh night air, was a tiny
figure, clad in robes bright as moonshine,
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 297
with wings like a butterfly of many brilliant
colours, and a crown changeable with the
hues of the rainbow upon its head. The
little being looked at Kurt with a kind air,
and said once more,
“What is the matter little Kurt? Tell
me: I am Queen of the Fairies.â€
Then Kurt did not feel at all afraid of the
beautiful little creature who had such a sweet
voice, and such tender eyes, and was a queen
besides: so he told her how the wood-cutter
had left him alone in the woods with no one
in the world to take care of him, and he was
afraid he should starve in the forest, and die.
The fairy queen listened very kindly to
all he told her, and then said,
“Come with me, Kurt, and I will try to
do something to help you.â€
She floated down from the tree as she
spoke, and beckoned Kurt to follow. The
boy obeyed, and, led by the gleaming of her
bright wings, made his way through the
298 TIE SINGING BIRD
green alleys of the wood, until they came to
a thick clump of trees, where there seemed
no opening. Still the little fairy floated on
amid the leaves; and Kurt too pressed for-
ward, when, to his surprise, the branches
parted, making a path for him, and closing
as he passed, until he found himself standing
in a beautiful meadow, where the moonlight
streamed full and clear, and fountains of
crystal water went sparkling up like jewels
in the moonshine. Birds, whose breasts and
wings seemed set with rubies and precious
stones, flew gayly about in groves of graceful
trees, singing all the while. such wild sweet
strains, as made the boy’s heart thrill with
strange delight. Flowers far more brilliant
than any which grew in the woods, sprang up
at every step, or hung in long garlands from
tree to tree; while crowds of lovely little
‘creatures, only less beautiful than the fairy
queen herself, hid in the flower-cups, or
peeped from beneath the leaves, sometimes
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 299
swinging by the flower-stems, and then join-
ing hands in a mazy dance, as they sung,
“While earth's weary mortals sleep,
We our fairy vigils keep,
And where the moonbeams brightest glance,
Trip our gay and joyous dance.â€
Little Kurt looked around in bewildered
ecstacy ; and well he might, for he was in
Fairy-land, where a mortal had rarely been
before, and few if any have ever been since.
Then the fairy queen led the boy intoa
shaded grove, and bade her attendants set
before him honey and fruits of many kinds,
while she sipped a drop of distilled flower-
dew from a goblet cut out of a single dia-
mond.
After the boy had rested and refreshed
himself, he roamed about at will amid the
beautiful trees, and even grew so familiar
with the little fays as to join in their sports.
He was happy, and forgot all about his sor-
rows. He thought he should like to live so
230 THE SINGING BIRD
forever, and was sorry when the queen called
him and said,
“ You must leave us now; Kurt, for morn-
ing will soon dawn; but choose first some-
thing to take with you in remembrance of
your visit to Fairy-land.â€
Kurt longed to say he should like best te
stay; but the fairy queen seemed to under-
stand his thoughts, for she added,
“ You think now that you would be happy
to live here forever; but you are wrong,
Kurt. You are not a fairy, you know, and
will by and by grow to be a man. Then you
would soon be tired of such a life as we lead,
and want to go back to mankind again.
Choose, therefore, what you will, and then
you must leave us.â€
Kurt saw that it was vain to resist the
will of the fairy queen, and with a sigh, cast
a regretful look over the beautiful Fairy-land.
Just then an exquisite little bird perched it-
self upon a branch near by, and sung a be-
FROM FAINY-LAND. 931
wildering song. The plumage of this little
bird shone like burnished gold; his wings
flashed in the moonlight with ever-varying
colours, and his breast sparkled with the
dazzling lustre of a diamond.
Kurt stretched forth his hand.
“I will take this bird,†he said.
* You have chosen wisely, Kurt,†returned
tke fairy queen, approvingly. ‘‘ This little
songster will cheer and assist you: besides,
you will never feel utterly desolate while he
sings the songs of Fairy-land; and he will
sometimes give you good advice.â€
She took the bird in her hand as she
spoke, and fastening a slender silver thread
beneath its wings, bade Kurt knot the end
of the thread firmly about his wrist. He
did so; and the little bird came at once and
nestled in his bosom.
Then the fairy queen bade Kurt follow
her, until they came to the apparently im-
penetrable clump of trees through which
232 THE SINGING BIRD
they had entered. Here all the fairies
gathered around, saying, in their soft musical
voices,
“ Good-by, little Kurt—Good-by little
Kurt.â€
And when the boy attempted to reply, sud-
denly the first morning sunbeam fell upon
them ; the whole scene vanished; and Kurt,
to his great surprise, found himself lying
beneath the trees just where the fairy queen
had found him.
He arose and looked about him. Every
thing was still. The birds had not yet left
their nests; and the great sun sent one
quivering ray of light among the leaves full
upon the spot where Kurt had rested.
The boy sighed.
*T had a lovely dream last night,†he
said; “but it is broad daylight now, and
what am I to do? I shall die if I stay here;
and how am I to find my way out of this
forest ?â€
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 233
Just then he heard a sudden gush of
strange sweet melody that filled his heart
with joy; and amid the variety of trills and
quavers, he distinguished these words :—
“Kurt, if yon turn towards the west,
And follow the sun till he sinks to rest,
Then onward again when the night is pr«t,
You may find your way out of the wood at last.â€
It was the voice of the fairy bird: and as
Kurt looked up, there, sure enough, was the
beautiful little fellow, his brilliant plumage
flashing in the morning sunshine, as he
soared above the boy, and sung his wonder-
ful song.
and now Kurt felt inspired with new
courage.
‘So I have not been dreaming, after all,â€
he thought ; “‘and this charming little bird
will help me to find my way out of the
forest. How fortunate I am in possessing
him !â€
Then the boy took his bread and cheese,
234 THE SINGING BIRD
of which he ate very little, because he knew
not how long it would have to last him ; and
turning his face towards the west, walked
on with 4 light heart, the beautiful bird
sometimes nestling in his bosom, and then
soaring up high as the silver thread would
let him, and singing such sweet and bewil-
dering strains—recalling to Kurt his visit to
Fairy-land, and all the lovely things he had
seen there.
So he travelled on that day and the next,
resting at night beneath the trees, and
awakened at early dawn by the cheering
strains of his fairy bird.
But when on the third day he had eaten
his last crust, and faint and weary sat down
to rest, while before and about him nothing
but the tall trees could be seen, his courage
failed, and he wept aloud.
“You have deceived me,†he said to the
bird. “I will never believe you again. How
sorry I am that I have wandered so far
FROM FAIRY-LAND, 235
away in the woods! for plenty of berries
grew near where I was; and perhaps the
wood-cutter might have come back after all.
Now if he should, he will not be able to find
me; and there is not a berry about here, nor
a drop of water that I can see. I shall
starve and die at last; and it is all through
you, deceitful fairy bird. I wish I had
never seen you at all.â€
The fairy bird seemed to understand the
boy, but he did not mind his reproaches in
the least; for circling gayly about Kurt’s
head, and then nestling in his bosom, he
sang another strain :
“Courage, Kurt, and travel on,
You may find the way yet before daylight is gone,â€
chirrupped the bird.
Though Kurt had declared but a moment
before that he would never listen to the
fairy bird again, yet he jumped briskly up
when he heard these words, and walked on
with renewed courage.
936 THE SINGING BIRD
Presently he came to an unexpected open-
ing ; and there, just before him, was a clus-
ter of houses, with the bright lights twink-
ling here and there from.the windows, for it
was now growing dark.
Kurt gladly hastened into the town, and
again felt grateful to the little bird, who had
not deceived him after all.
He readily obtained a supper and night’s
rest at one of the houses, and early the next
morning arose to look about him, and find
something to do. His fairy bird sung cheer-
‘ingly; and urged on by him, Kurt went
from one door to another, seeking work, but
none could he find. Several people assisted
him from charity, but when night came
again, the poor little boy had no place of
shelter. He slept that night in the open
air: but the following day, inspired once
more by the song of the bird, he journeyed
on to the next town ; and here he was fortu-
nate enough to find an employer.
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 937
As he was trudging along the road, he
saw a man driving a large load of wood;
and then the little fairy bird sang to him
again, telling him to ask the man for
work.
So Kurt, obeying the voice of the bird,
ran up to the man, crying out,
‘© Wood-cutter, will you give me some-
thing todo? I can cut wood.â€
“Can you so, my little fellow ?†returned
the man: “then you shall go out into the
woods with me to-morrow, and I will see
what you can do.â€
The wood-cutter questioned little Kurt,
who told all his story. He then went home
with the man, and as he lay down to rest at
night thought,
“What a blessed chance it is that I have
this wonderful fairy bird to put such lucky
ideas into my mind.â€
And now Kurt went out every day into
the forest with the wood-cutter, who paid
238 THE SINGING BIRD
him a little for his work every week, and let
him live at his house besides.
The fairy bird sung away louder than ever
after Kurt began to work ; and now it urged
him to learn to read and write, so that in
time he might earn still more.
The boy listened to the song of the bird,
and determined to save all his Wages to ac-
complish this end.
He carried his savings in a little purse in
his bosom: and one sultry noonday as he lay
asleep beneath a tree, near the roadside, his
purse was stolen from him, and his singing
bird taken besides.
When poor Kurt awoke, and missed his
money, he felt very miserable ; and when he
no longer heard the cheering voice of his
fairy bird, he gave up in despair. All his
hard-earned savings were lost ina moment—
all his plans frustrated; and poor Kurt felt
sad enough.
As he indulged in these desponding
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 239
thoughts, suddenly he heard the faint sing-
ing of a bird in the distance : his heart beat
fast. The sound came nearér and nearer,
until his darling fairy bird once more nestled
in his bosom, and sung,
“Though your purse may be stolen, still I remain,
And perhaps you may get back your money again.â€
Kurt felt quite encouraged at this, and
ran rapidly up the road, thinking he might
overtake the thief, while his little bird con-
stantly cheered him on.
But this time the song of the fairy bird
proved useless: Kurt ran until quite out of
breath, and reflecting how foolish was the
chase, returned sadly to his home.
For many days the boy was very sorrow-
ful, and even the song of his bird failed to
cheer him; but at last its strains found an
echo in his heart, and he went to work
merrily again.
In time, Kurt earned money enough to
replace that which was lost, and so learned
940 THE SINGING BIRD
to read and write as well as any boy in the
town.
As he grew up to manhood, the singing
bird constantly cheered and encouraged him ;
and whenever disappointment or trouble
arose, the joyous strains of the fairy song-
ster drove all desponding fears from his
heart.
The mischievous little bird deceived him
sometimes, to be sure, but Kurt learned at
last to interpret its fairy songs aright, and
never allowed it to bewilder or mislead him.
When the crops failed, or the fruit-trees
were blasted, Kurt never sunk into despond-
ency, even when all his neighbours were dis-
couraged, for the fairy bird sung to him of a
plentiful harvest, and fine fruits in the next
season ; and Kurt believed him, and so per-
severed in his efforts for success.
It was wonderful what power the song of
this little bird possessed: it sustained him
in cheerful industry through difficulties and
FROM FAIRY-LAND. 24)
disappointments, until he became a thriving
and prosperous farmer; and though there
were many who said his bird sang too loudly,
and deceived him sadly in bidding him seek
the hand of his master’s daughter, when
there were other rich suitors in plenty, Kurt
felt that he had good reason to trust to the
fairy bird, and so persevered, though ofttimes
with trembling.
And when the event proved that his bird
had not sung in vain, Kurt loved to sit at his
own fireside in happy thankfulness, and in
enumerating all his blessings, never failed to
mention with gratitude, “The Singing Bird
from Fairy-land.â€
————
“And the poor widow has a singing bird
too,†exclaimed Ellen Lee, as Aunt Elsie
paused. “I understand very well: it is
Hope.â€
" The widow's bird sings of the safe re-
Q
942 THE SINGING BIRD FROM FAIRY-LAND.
turn of her absent son, and poor Liddy’s re-
stored sight: how cheerless her life would
be without hope !†added Frank.
“Cheerless enough,†said Harry. “‘ After
all, it is better to hope, even if we are de-
ceived at last.â€
“Hope on, hope ever, is a very good
motto, and I mean to adopt it,†cried Fred.
“When I grow rich I shall have it painted
upon my carriage; and in the mean time,
there is the tea-bell, and I hope Dinah has
not forgotten the strawberry short-cake,†he
added, interrupting himself.
This summons interrupted the conversa-
tion, and a party of young people from Mr.
Helme’s joining them after tea, the evening
was concluded with a dance upon the smooth
green lawn; and Aunt Elsie, as she fondly
looked upon the joyous group, thought that
no vision of fairy-land could be lovelier than
the scene before her, and no music sweeter
than the silvery voices of childhood, as
THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, &c., 243
they sang and danced like a band of mid-
summer fays, in the bright and pure moon-
light.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN elegant entertainment was given by Mr.
Morse, in honour of his son’s birthday ; and
the party of young people from Woodleigh
were of course among the invited guests.
The spacious and richly furnished rooms
were thrown open, and tastefully decorated
with festoons and garlands of flowers. The
assembled company was brilliant and nu-
merous, and the young host did the honours
with perfect politeness and propriety.
«i band of musicians from the city was
stationed upon one of the balconies, and the
sweet inspiring strains floated in upon the
evening air.
Altogether it was a brilliant and delight-
244 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
ful féte; and the dear Aunt Elsie, who,
with a group of parents and guardians,
smilingly looked on and enjoyed the scene,
observed with secret pleasure that her own
little people, though less gayly attired than
many of the guests, were universally sought
after; their artless, yet graceful manners,
and bright faces, winning friends and ad-
mirers in all.
The following day the children could talk
of nothing else than the delightful evening
they had passed, and how much they had
enjoyed it; while exclamations of admiring
praise at the splendid and tastefully deco-
rated apartments constantly burst forth, as
they recalled the pleasant hours they had
spent.
“ How elegantly that young lady from the
city was dressed !†said Ellen: ‘she seemed
to be the belle of the evening.â€
“ She was very richly dressed, to be sure,â€
returned Harry, “and looked very hand-
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 245
some, but I saw many others who appeared
much more charming and agreeable.â€
“ Neither was she by any means the belle,
as you call it, Ellen,†added Fred: “though
had she been a real bell, she could scarcely
have made more noise than she did with her
incessant talking and laughing. I agree
with Harry, that there were plenty of young
girls there who looked far prettier, and were
better liked than this young lady from the
city.â€
* Yes, indeed,†said Grace; “I saw one
at least who was every way more lovely,
though she did not seem ‘to know it at all.â€
And she glanced towards Edith as she spoke.
“ And it was that unconsciousness which
made the charm about her,†returned Arthur,
smiling, for he had heard many persons speak
of the winning loveliness of both Grace and
Clara. “Now this city belle never forgot
for an instant that she was both handsome
and well dressed, and expected every one
246 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
else to acknowledge and remember it be-
sides.â€
“ She looked very proud, I think,†chimed
in Lilie; ‘and though her eyes were so
large and bright, they were no brighter than
Kate’s, who looked a great deal prettier, I
am sure.â€
“You will make me proud too, Lilie, if
you don’t take care,†cried Kate, merrily
tossing back her curls, and kissing Lilie as
she spoke. “ But I am too little yet to set
up for a beauty, so there is no great harm
done.â€
“No,†added Fred, mischievously ; “and
unless your little nose should grow in pro-
portion with your little self, I don't think
there is much fear of your pretensions ever
becoming great either.â€
“You are growing saucy, Fred,†spoke his
cousin Marian, good-naturedly ; “and letting
your pretensions to cleverness overcome yeur
peliteness, Ithink. Those who live in glass
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 247
houses, you know, should not throw stones ;
and if you think Kate’s nose too small, you
must also acknowledge your own as too
large.â€
“ Thank you, Marian,†cried Kate, laugh-
ing. “Now, Fred, you are fairly answered,
and before either of us set up as beauties,
we will divide noses equally, that our
chances may be fair. So that question is
settled.â€
* Agreed,†returned Fred, pleasantly ;
“and now since Kate’s vanity seems proof
against all assaults, I suppose she can bear
to have the question of the belle of the even-
ing again discussed.â€
“That I can,†said the little girl, “and I
know very well who was the prettiest and
sweetest girl there.â€
“Yes,†said Frank, looking about him as
he spoke ; “ and as she is not present to hear
it, we can name her: it was Edith.â€
“Right, Franky,†replied Harry Wilder ;
248 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
“our tastes agree in this as in many other
things.â€
“T think we will all agree in this choice,â€
remarked Clara; “for Edith did look lovely
in her simple white dress, and we all know
she is just as sweet as she appears.â€
« And when the light fell upon her shin-
ing hair as she stood beneath the chandelier,
and those joyous smiles of hers beamed from
her face, she seemed like some pure spirit.
I never knew before how beautiful she was,â€
added Mabel, earnestly.
“ And who may this be of whom I hear
such high praise?†asked Aunt Elsie, who
now joined the group.
* The one we have chosen as queen of the
last night's festival,†replied Harry: “and
who do you think it is, Aunt Elsie?â€
“I cannot even guess,†replied the old
lady, smiling; “for my old eyes were
so completely dazzled by the brightness
about me, that I could not decide who
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 249
was fairest, where, to me at least, all seemed
fair.â€
© Oh, Aunt Elsie,†cried little Lilie, “ you
could not but see that our own Edith was
the very sweetest and prettiest in all the
room.â€
“Tam by no means certain of that, Lilie,â€
rejoined Aunt Elsie: “there were many
others quite as pretty, and it may be even
prettier.â€
**We don’t mean mere beauty,†remarked
Arthur. “There is something about Edith
more charming than a handsome face.â€
‘I think she must possess some fairy
gift,†remarked Grace; “for every thing she
says or does seems to please.â€
“ That is because we all love her so well,â€
added Marian.
“But tell us, Aunt Elsie; don’t you
think Edith is very, very sweet and pretty?â€
asked little Lilie, earnestly.
Aunt Elsie smiled.
250 HE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
“ Edith is not prettier than many others,â€
she said ; “and yet I feel the charm you de-
scribe about her: although I think I know
several other little people who possess it also,
and they are as unconscious of owning it as
Edith herself. But here she comes, so for
the present we will drop the subject : by and
by, perhaps, I may read you a story which
will explain this nameless charm.â€
The children did not allow Aunt Elsie
to forget her promise; and when they as-
sembled on the lawn after tea, she read to
them a story which was entitled—
Che Gurhauted Mirror,
AND
Che Suvisible Bail.
When fairies were in fashion, which was
a long while ago, there dwelt a rich lord in a
great castle, with his wife and two daughters.
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 251
At the christening feast of the elder
daughter, whose name was Mercia, a power-
ful fairy was invited, as was the custom in
those days, that she might bestow her pre-
cious gifts upon the child. The fairy ar-
rived in due season, bringing with her a curi-
ously wrought casket, carved with strange
devices, in which were deposited the favours
intended for the little unconscious Mercia.
When the proper moment arrived, the
fairy opened the casket, and bade the lady
of the castle choose from its contents those
gifts which she desired her child to possess.
The delighted mother gladly obeyed, and
selecting all which seemed most attractive,
showered them upon her beloved daughter,
and the fairy closing the nearly emptied
casket, departed amid the grateful thanks
of the happy parents.
Time passed away, and a little sister was
given to Mercia; but the mother’s heart
was so absorbed in her first-born, that she
252 HE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
made but little preparation for the christen-
ing festival of the young Allette; and it
was only by the merest chance that the fairy
heard of it, and resolved to be present.
The lady of the castle was very happy
when she heard of the arrival of the kind
and powerful fairy, for she anticipated a
renewal of the rich presents bestowed upon
Mercia; but her disappointment was ex-
treme when the fairy, opening the same
casket, produced the only remaining gifts
which the mother had before discarded as
comparatively worthless, and bestowed them
upon the young Allette, saying as she did
so—
“Though all my most brilliant favours
have been lavished upon Mercia, these which
I now bestow upon Allette shall prove in-
estimable, and procure her a happiness which
her sister will never know.â€
As she spoke these words, she threw over
the unconscious child a vail of such exquisite
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. © 2533
texture as to become both invisible and in-
tangible when it left her hands, and then
placing a tiny silver mirror of mysterious
form upon the bosom of Allette, pressed a
kiss upon her eyelids and departed, unat-
tended, however, by any of the marks of
distinction which graced her previous visit :
for the parents considered the favours be-
stowed upon this child as of very little
value.
As the sisters grew to womanhood, the
fairy favours that had been bestowed upon
Mercia became more and more precious in
the eyes of herself and her parents. She
had beauty, grace, wit, and accomplishments,
80 that none could behold her without ad-
miration.
The fairy, in endowing her with beauty,
had given her a tall stately form, and proud
dark eyes, while her complexion rivalled
both the white and red roses in delicacy
and rich colouring: every movement was
254 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
graceful, and the words which dropped from
her beautiful lips were full of sparkling wit
and gayety.
Mercia was formed to be admired, and as
she knew full well the value of her charms,
exacted homage from all who approached
her. But while her beauty attracted, her
pride repelled; and Mercia, though flat-
tered, courted, and admired, was far from
being loved.
Allette, on the contrary, possessed none of
her sister's dazzling beauty. Her appear-
ance was in no manner distinguished from
many other young girls of her own age; and
she seemed well content to pass unobserved
when in company with the brilliant and
beautiful Mercia.
Nevertheless the fairy gifts bestowed upon
Allette were not without their peculiar
charm. The vail which the fairy had
thrown over her face, though invisible to
mortal eyes, yet cast a fascinating softness
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 255
over her features. Her downcast eyes
beamed with a pure light, and the blushes
that mantled her cheek added new love-
liness to her countenance. Every one felt
this fairy charm, and all who approached
Allette loved her ; indeed, there were some
who called her lovelier than Mercia, though
they knew she was not so handsome.
Meanwhile the little mirror which the
fairy had placed upon her bosom rested there
still, pure and unsullied by a single breath.
It was truly an enchanted mirror, for it
shone with the lustre of a diamond, and the
clearness of crystal; and those who looked
upon it saw reflected therein graceful and
pleasant forms that seemed constantly to
follow each other, while over all a soft white
dove appeared ever hovering, with outspread
wings.
None who approached Allette could fail
to be attracted by this magic mirror, which
she wore with a perfect unconsciousness of
256 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
its power; and then when they lifted their
gaze to her sweet and gentle face, beaming
with all tender and kindly feelings, and
softened still more by the fairy vail, no
wonder that they felt mysteriously attracted
towards her: and so, though all admired
the beautiful Mercia, every one loved the
gentle Allette.
The sisters were as opposite in character
as in appearance: Mercia expected admira-
ation, and was angered at every fancied
slight; while Allette shrunk from notice,
and was grateful for each word or look of
kindness that greeted her.
It chanced one day (as it often did in the
days of fairy dominion), that the king’s son
was journeying that way, and hearing of
Mercia’s great beauty, sojourned a few days
at her father’s castle. The proud Mercia
was overjoyed at this distinction, and has-
tened to adorn herself with all her jewels,
and display her fairy favours to the greatest
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 257
advantage: while her sister, for whom all
the pomp and parade incident to the recep-
tion of a royal guest possessed no charm,
sought the retirement of her own chamber,
anxious to escape notice.
The prince was struck with admiration at
the wonderful beauty of Mercia, who re-
ceived his flattering homage with the dignity
of an empress. Allette meanwhile scarcely
lifted her eyes, and far from seeking, or
even expecting attention, sought the first
Opportunity to escape from the brilliant
saloon into the quiet garden, which was
only lighted by the pale silver moon.
Here, after enjoying the still coolness of
the evening for a time, she rested a while
upon a grassy bank, and it so happened that
the prince himself, who had sought a mo-
mentary relief from the light and gayety
within, strolled near by, and gazed upon her
unobserved.
She seemed so pure and fair there in the
R
258 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
still moonlight, that his glance rested upon
her with pleasure: presently his eyes fell
upon the enchanted mirror, and he too felt
its powerful influence. The prince followed
her steps when she arose, and respectfully
accosted her: to his surprise, Allette did not
recognise him as the prince, but supposing
him to be one of the prince’s retinue, she
replied courteously to his remarks.
Great was her astonishment, and even
consternation, when, upon re-entering the
‘saloon, she heard her companion addressed
as the prince; and remembering the tone of
her remarks, she felt filled with confusion at
her unconscious boldness.
The prince, who still kept his gaze fixed
upon the enchanted mirror, saw pictured
therein all that was passing in her heart, and
hastened to assure her by his gentleness and
attention.
After a time the timid reserve of Allette
yielded to this unassuming kindness, and she
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 959
entered into the evening’s amusements with
innocent and unaffected enjoyment. And now
so many bright shapes appeared upon the tiny
mirror, as made it delightful to lcok upon;
while Mercia, who felt herself neglected for
Allette, stood proudly and coldly apart.
After the guests had dispersed, Mercia
gave full vent to her feelings of envy and
mortified pride.
“ Of what avail are all my fairy gifts,†she
cried, “if the power of this trifling mirror is
greater than all! Why did my mother ne-
glect selecting so valuable a treasure for me !â€
“Do not reproach me, Mercia,†returned
her mother, who overheard her words: “had
you even possessed the mirror, you could not
have worn it with your other ornaments ; it
would soon have become sullied. But take
courage ; the flattery and attention that now
surround Allette will have the effect of dim-
ming the charmed mirror, and then her power
will be destroyed.â€
260 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
The proud Mercia was her mother’s fa-
vourite, and she earnestly desired to see her
reign queen over all hearts, and perhaps over
all the land besides.
Mercia never suspected that it was her
own selfish pride and vanity that blinded her
to the varying beauties of her sister’s won-
derful mirror: and had she carefully sought
the casket where her fairy gifts were kept,
she might have found far away in a neglected
corner another tiny mirror, but so sullied and
defaced by the other favours thrown upon it,
that its dull surface reflected not one beam
of light.
The prince and his retinue continued
several days at the castle, and so equally was
his attention divided between the sisters, that
none could tell which he preferred: the
courtiers, therefore, whose admiration of
course followed that of their master, fluc-
tuated between the sisters in a pleasing
dilemma; but a few, with more candour and
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 26]
less courtliness than the rest, attached them-
selves exclusively to Allette.
Meanwhile the enchanted mirror remained
bright and pure as ever: neither the breath
of flattery nor the venom of jealousy could
sully its brightness for a single moment.
The prince, indeed, sometimes thought he
recognised himself in one of the pleasing
shadowy forms that flitted across its surface ;
but the vision faded rapidly from view, and
he contented himself with observing all in
silence. He saw the pains which Mercia
took to display her own charms, while en-
deavouring to cast Allette’s entirely aside.
The visit of the king’s son was concluded,
and he left the castle with many gracious _
acknowledgments of the hospitality he had
received. He courteously saluted the sis-
ters, and intimated a desire to see them soon
at court, where, he added, their beauty
would win all the admiration it so richly
deserved.
262 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
Mercia was sure his glance rested exclu-
sively upon her as he spoke, and her mind
was already filled with bright visions of the
future, when she should appear in regal
magnificence at the palace.
Allette was happily unconscious that their
guest, casting a glance upon the magic
mirror as he bade her farewell, saw himself
reflected therein with a vividness no shape
had ever possessed before.
After his departure, Mercia dwelt in con-
tinual anticipation of the promised appear-
ance at court; and was so absorbed in her
own imaginings, that she ceased to heed
Allette, or to envy the enchanted mirror.
Her vanity assured her that the attentions
of the prince were all directed to herself, and
that from her sister she had nothing to fear.
Allette meanwhile was equally deceived :
she never for a moment expected any to pre-
fer her to the beautiful Mercia.
The long-desired invitation at length ar-
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 263
rived: there was a grand entertainment to
be given at the palace, and the sisters were
among the honoured guests.
The proud heart of Mercia beat high with
anticipated triumph; but Allette desired to
be left behind. She did not dare, however,
to follow her inclination, since the royal
invitation was equal to a command, and so,
reluctantly accompanied her mother and
sister to the palace.
The prince welcomed the sisters with
every demonstration of pleasure; while he
observed with secret satisfaction the blush
that rose to Allette’s cheek, on finding her-
self thus introduced to the brilliant assem-
blage of a court, and noticed besides that the
charmed mirror was as unsullied as before.
The dazzling beauty and wit of Mercia
soon gathered a throng of admirers about her,
and even the prince seemed to yield to her
influence, and devoted all his attention to her;
while the unobtrusive charms of Allette were
264 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
not calculated to command the admiration of
a gay court, and when the prince appeared
to decide in favour of her sister, the gentle
Allette sunk into comparative obscurity.
Thus deserted by the giddy crowd of flat-
terers who buzzed around Mercia like a
swarm of bees about a newly opened flower,
and scarcely noticed by the prince, whom she
had never ceased to remember, Allette might
well have become sad and spiritless. But in
her humility she blamed herself for ever
having allowed a thought to stray towards
their royal entertainer, and rebuked the vain
spirit that could for an instant place itself
upon a level with the incomparable Mercia.
Thus humbled and subdued, Allette com-
muned with herself; and though the forms
that flitted across the magic mirror were
oftentimes confused and sad-coloured, still its
surface remained undimmed and pure, and
the soft dove brooded over it.
Secure in the power of her wondrous
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 265
charms, the haughty Mercia assumed the
dignity of a queen, and received the homage
tendered her as her just due.
It chanced one day as the party strolled
upon a terrace, that a wounded bird fluttered
towards them, and fell at the sisters’ feet.
Mercia, glad of an opportunity to display her
sensibility, tenderly raised the bird, and
pressing it to her cheek, smoothed its ruffled
plumes, regardless of the blood-drops that
stained her rich dress, and wept when the
poor little thing drooped its head upon its
breast and died.
“What tenderness! what charming sen-
sibility !†exclaimed the admiring group who
surrounded her, while the prince himself
took the bird from her hands, and ordered it
to be stuffed and preserved among his private
collection.
This compliment completely turned the
brain of the vain Mercia.
A short time after this adventure the royal
266 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
party went out to the chase ; the day passed
away, and as night drew near, their return
was each moment expected. The palace was
already lighted, and the shadows of twilight
had deepened into the shades of night, when
the sisters, superbly dressed for the evening,
descended the terrace, and strolled into the
grounds,
Mercia was all impatience for the return
of the hunting party ; for her the still even-
ing had no attraction, while Allette felt
soothed and happy in the quiet and beauty
of all about her. Thus, as their musings
were so- opposite, the sisters walked on in
silence.
Presently they were startled by the rust-
ling of the bushes near them, and the sharp
crackling of the underbrush, as a man hur-
riedly made his way through the tangled
copse, and was passing rapidly on, when ob-
serving them, he paused.
“For the love of mercy, ladies,†he said,
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 267
jn anxious, eager tunes, “step down to my
poor cottage, where lies a wretched man
desperately wounded. I found him just
beyond in the woods, and bore him to my
home; but he faints from loss of blood, and
I have none to help him: he wears the dress
of a king's servitor, or something of the kind,
for Iam not skilled in courtly matters, and
am hastening to the palace for assistance:
meanwhile he may die.â€
“Hasten on,†replied Allette, anxiously,
“and ask for the king’s physician ;. meantime
I will go to the poor man myself. If your
cottage is just without the copse I can find
it: quick, lose no time.â€
The man obeyed, and ran towards the palace.
“Why, Allette, are you crazed?†asked
Mercia, as her sister walked rapidly on.
“You will ruin your dress, if nothing more,
in forcing your way through the copse. I
dare say it is some poor wood-cutter and the
man will be back scon enough.â€
268 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
“Let him be who he may,†returned
Allette, still hurrying on, “he is alone and
suffering: it is doubtless one of the retainers,
who has perhaps been wounded in the chase.
Will you go with me, sister ?†she added, as
they had now reached the edge of the copse,
“ Not I, indeed,†replied Mercia. ‘I like
not such adventures: why, my dress would
not be fit to appear in upon the prince’s
return.â€
But Allette tarried not to hear the con-
cluding words: making her way as fast as
possible through brake and brier, she hurried
onward on her mission of mercy.
The cottage was easily found; it was a
miserable hovel, and eagerly pushing open
the door, Allette entered. By the flickering
flame of a solitary rushlight she distinguished
the form of a man lying upon a wretched
pallet, moaning in distress. She could not
see his face, but she knew by the dress that
he belonged to the retinue of the prince.
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 269
Gently approaching, she found the blood
oozing through his doublet at the shoulder ;
and hurriedly taking a pruning-knife from
the settle where the wood-cutter had thrown
it, she ripped open the doublet, and staunch-
ing the blood as best she could, looked around
in vain for something to bind up the wound ;
but the poor cottage was utterly destitute of
any thing suitable.
Then, without a second thought, Allette
loosened the delicate silk scarf from her neck,
and bound it across the shoulder of the
wounded man. The wretched hovel afforded
no water to bathe the sufferer’s brow; and
as Allette stood troubled and anxious, the
sound of several voices was heard; hasty
steps approached, and as the door was eagerly
opened, the fresh night air extinguished the
rushlight, and left all in darkness.
Allette had recognised the voices of the
wood-cutter and king's physician, and now
that aid was at hand and the immediate need
270 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
of her services past, her timidity returned,
and she hastened to escape in the confusion
that ensued.
This she easily effected ; and quickly gain-
ing the copse, passed through the tangled
brush, regardless of her dress, and proceeded
rapidly to the palace, where she succeeded in
gaining her own apartment unperceived.
After hastily removing her soiled and dis-
ordered dress, she sat down to recover breath
and calmness. Now that the occasion was
past, she felt alarmed at her own temerity,
and thought that she had rendered no very
effectual aid after all.
She was roused from this train of reflection
by a bustle in the palace, and Mercia rushed
in pale with affright. The prince had been
brought home badly wounded, and all was
confusion and alarm. Mercia eagerly asked
her sister whether she had found the wounded
person, and if it was the prince ; but Allette
replied that she did not see the man’s features,
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 271
and as aid speedily arrived, she hastened
away. _
This untoward accident occasioned an in-
termission of the festivities, and the guests
were desirous to leave; but they were
desired to remain, as the hurt of the king’s
son was not dangerous, and in a few days he
would be able to join them again.
These few days of the prince’s seclusion
were employed by Mercia in inventing various
delicate attentions to bestow upon the invalid.
Messages of inquiry were constantly sent in
her mother’s name, accompanied by some
exquisite flowers or dainty confection from
herself. And as the acknowledgments were
always gracious, and sometimes even ex-
pressed something more than mere courtly
phrase, Mercia’s heart beat high.
Meantime Allette could think of nothing
but the danger and suffering of the prince.
Her shrinking modesty would not allow her
to tender any of the attentions which Mercia
272 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
so freely offered; and she felt a constant
dread lest the scarf she had bound upon the
wound should betray the assistance she had
rendered, and which she feared would be
considered most unwarrantable boldness.
The entire recovery of the prince was at
length announced, and all the courtiers and
guests assembled in the grand saloon to wel-
come his re-appearance. He entered, lean-
ing upon the’ arm of his chamberlain ; and
though somewhat pale, smiled graciously
on all, and received their congratulations
with the gratitude of a noble and sensitive
heart.
Releasing himself from the circle of cour-
tiers who crowded about him, he approached
the sisters, who stood together, and taking
the willing hand of the delighted Mercia,
expressed in courtly words his sense of her
attentive kindness.
The eyes of the proud girl flashed with
triumph at this open acknowledgment, while
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 273
Allette stood pale, trembling, and apparently
unnoticed.
* But I have a deeper debt of gratitude to
acknowledge,†he continued in a low voice
that only reached the sisters. “I wear in
my bosom a token of the gentle hand that
succoured me in the hour of distress and
need: it can belong only to her who has
already displayed such tender sensibility,
and from whom,†he added yet more ear-
nestly, “I hope yet to claim a still more
precious boon.â€
At these words the brow of Allette
burned with truant blushes, that were only
heightened by the fairy vail: and then the
blood rushed back to her heart, and left her
pale, cold, and trembling, while Mercia, by
whom part of this speech was scarcely under-
stood, only dwelt upon his closing words, and
a glow of delight added new lustre to her
radiant beauty.
The gaze of the prince quickly fell upon
274 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
the countenance of each, and then as his
glance turned upon the enchanted mirror,
which yet rested upon the bosom of Allette, he
saw reflected therein the scene at the wood-
cutter’s cottage, and then himself pale and
wounded, with graceful shadowy spirits
flitting over him; these forms were rapidly
succeeded by other scenes, wherein himself
and Mercia constantly appeared ; but though
the colours were no longer bright, the mirror
was still pure and undimmed, and the dove
kept watch above all.
The prince stood absorbed in the contem-
plation of the magic mirror, and forgetful of
all about him, until aroused by the voices of
his courtiers ; and then lifting his glance a
moment to the sweet countenance of Ailette,
he turned silently away.
Mercia noticed his look, and her proud
spirit was troubled; but upon questioning
Allette, the gentle girl would give no farther
explanation of her adventure, and Mercir
TOE INVISIBLE VAIL. 275
resigned herself to the hope the words of the
prince had inspired.
During all the evening the proud and
happy Mercia was the chosen queen of the
festival.
The prince made many allusions re-
garding the assistance she had rendered
him ; but she skilfully avoided any direct
reply, allowing him to infer that she had
done more than her modesty would allow her
to admit; though every word he spoke only
convinced her the more that Allette had
rendered him some aid, of which she was
unworthily receiving the praise.
Thus the evening passed, and a special
entertainment was announced for the ensu-
ing night in commemoration of the prince’s
recovery, and in honour of the queen of
loveliness, who, it was understood, should
then publicly receive some token of acknow-
ledgment from the prince himself.
Every one considered Mercia as beyond
276 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
all doubt the intended queen of the festival,
and she entertained the same expectation ;
while Allette sighed heavily, and wished the
pageant over, that she might return to the
quiet of her home, and endeavour, in know-
ing her sister’s happiness, to forget her own
sorrow.
The prince saw all these thoughts pictured
faithfully within the tiny magic mirror,
which none other thought worth while to
notice, but which he could readily observe,
for his nature was noble, and untainted by
selfish pride.
The evening of the festival arrived, and
the spacious saloon was filled with splendidly
attired and expectant guests. Mercia had
arrayed herself in royal magnificence, and
displayed all her fairy favours to the best
advantage. Her beauty was dazzling and
marvellous ; but in conscious security she
had cast aside all humility, and her arrogant
pride provoked many a sneer, which her
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 277
apparent favour with the prince prevented
being openly expressed. Mercia was admired,
flattered, and feared, but not loved.
Allette endeavoured in vain to appear gay.
She was cheerful and calm, but she wore
little ornament, and timidly sought to escape
observation. The forms reflected within the
magic mirror had lost their brilliance, and
seemed to move sadly upon its clear pure
surface.
Just before the supper hour arrived, the
prince seated himself upon his divan, and
gathering about him a select circle of his
chosen ministers and guests, among whom
the sisters were desired to occupy a con-
spicuous place, he said :
“We have ordered this festival in honour
of the queen of loveliness; but before mak-
ing our election, hear this fable :—
“A tulip and a tuft of violets grew side
by side. The tulip lifted its proud head to
the sun, and claimed the admiration of all
278 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
by its brilliant colours; but the modest
violet nestled among the green leaves, and
only sent a breath of perfume upon the air.
A traveller wearied with the heat of noon-
day, paused to admire the flowers: the tulip
attracted him by its gorgeous beauty, but
the violet won him by its unobtrusive charms.
As he bent over them, a delicious fragrance
floated towards him, refreshing his wearied
senses.
“To which does this delightful perfume
belong?’ he asked. ‘ Be it which it may, I
will transplant you to my garden, and nur-
ture you with care. Is the fragrance thine?’
he added, bending towards the tulip.
“Then the stately flower raised her bril-
liant head proudly, and acknowledged the
sweet odour hers.
“But the modest violet thought, ‘The
tulip is so, beautiful, she will adorn the
garden more than I; and planted with other
flowers, she may win a fragrance at last.
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 279
She desires to be admired: I will not claim
the perfume as mine, but remain content in
knowing she is happy.’
“ The gentle violet sighed as she thought,
and her breath betrayed the truth : then the
traveller stooped, and lifting the tuft of
modest violets, planted them in his own
garden, and cherished them there forever.â€
The prince spoke with emotion, and rising
as he ceased, approached Allette, adding,
“ And thus, though the tulip be beautiful
ana brilliant, I, too, choose the sweet and
modest violet !â€
He drew the hana of the bewildered
Allette within his arm as he spoke: the
courtiers rose in surprise, Mercia paled with
mingled emotions : at the same moment the
immense doors of the saloon were thrown open,
and beyond appeared a splendid hall, gleam-
ing with lights, and decorated with rich medal-
lions, bearing the respective inscriptions—
“To Mercia, the beautiful.â€
280 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, AND
* To Allette, the queen of loveliness.â€
Then the prince graciously offered his left
arm to Mercia, while Allette hung confused
and trembling upon his right, scarcely com-
prehending the sudden change, and afraid to
trust the sense of happiness that crept into
her heart. But the proud and disappointed
Mercia turned haughtily away, and accept-
ing the support of the chamberlain, passed
into the hall, endeavouring to conceal her
mortification beneath an air of disdain.
How the banquet progressed, and the
readiness with which the courtiers trans-
ferred their admiration to the chosen queen ;
how to many the unexpected turn of affairs
remained a mystery, while to a few it
was revealed ; how the proud Mercia was
humbled, and married to a noble lord at last ;
and how the happy Allette learned from
the devoted prince, all his trials of her
gentleness, and the wonderful influence of
the enchanted mirror and fairy vail in bring-
THE INVISIBLE VAIL. 281
ing their happiness about ;—all these things
would occupy pages in repeating: but that
the prince and Allette lived happy all their
days, and governed with wisdom and kind-
ness, is a truth that can be found recorded
in the archives of the nation, should any
choose to seek there ; while the memory of
the gentle queen, like the sweet fragrance of
the violet, breathed perfume long after she
had passed away.
“That is a real fairy story,†cried Kate,
clapping her hands as Aunt Elsie ceased.
“The first Aunt Elsie has told about a
prince: I like it so very much.â€
“Why, Kate, you are the young lady who
despised dress and riches,†returned Fred,
laughing ; “and now you are dazzled by a
: prince, Fie, Kate, be consistent.â€
“ Kings and princes are common enough,â€
_ said little Lilie: “all fairy tales except
_ Aunt Elsie’s are full of them.â€
282 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR, &c.
But we are forgetting the object with
which Aunt Elsie told us the story,†added
Mabel. “I think Allette’s invisible vail
must have been modesty.â€
‘And the enchanted mirror, what was
that ?†asked Ellen.
“Purity of heart, I think,†returned
Grace.
* And the dove was innocence,†continued
Clara.
« Ah, I understand now,†remarked Harry
Wilder, “what the fairy charms are which
we were discussing; and as Aunt Elsie is
kind fairy enough to explain them to you,
young ladies, I trust you will each endeavour
to possess them, since they are within the
reach of all.â€
A party of visitors were now seen entere
ing the gate, and the conversation ceased.
THE CONCLUSION. 283
CHAPTER IX.
THE midsummer was now past, and the
little party were once more about to separate.
The kind intentions of Aunt Elsie and Mr.
Helme had been carried into effect, and
Frank was to leave for his new home,
while little Lilie remained at Woodleigh.
The last evening arrived, and the group
of little people were assembled upon the old
piazza. The day had been spent in visit-
ing every favourite haunt, and taking a
lingering farewell of the spots where so many-
happy hours had been passed.
A violent and sudden shower hurried the
children into the house before sunset, and
they were now gathered upon the piazza
watching the heavy clouds as they rolled
mutteringly back into the western sky.
Suddenly a gleam of sunshine burst forth
284 THE CONCLUSION.
amid the black masses, and a beautiful rain-
bow appeared.
“Look, look!†cried little Lilie. “See
what a bright rainbow, and yet the drops
are falling !â€
“TI was just comparing these dark clouds
and the heavy shower to our grief at parting,
and the tears that will be shed,†said Arthur,
with a smile; “and now this beautiful rain-
bow bursts through the clouds like a har-
binger of joy after all.â€
“I hope it may be,†returned Ellen;
“but I cannot bear to leave this dear plea-
sant Woodleigh, where I have been so
happy.â€
“Nor can I,†replied Kate. “I never
enjoyed myself so much before in all my
life, and don’t know when I shall again.
Now I must cast aside my sunbonnet, keep
my hair smooth, and walk demurely to
school, where I must sit quite still for so
many hours, poring over my books: I know
eed
vi
re WITT MOOV
Orta tt
- _ = ~
FIFTZ DE
SSL
i)
ae SONI oe
Whit ae
She welcomed the litue party warmly when they entered,
received with thankfulness the things they brought.
—S
and
THE CONCLUSION. 285
very well that I shall often be thinking of
Woodleigh, instead of my lessons.â€
*“‘ Frank is a lucky fellow to live at that
splendid place, and be so near Woodleigh
besides,†remarked Robert; “ while we can
only carry the remembrance with us to our
‘city homes.â€
“I do feel very happy,†answered Frank;
“but you forget, Robert, that I too shall
leave for school.â€
“JT think we may carry something more
than the mere remembrance of these pleasant
hours with us,†now said Edith. “Some
of the good spirits whom Aunt Elsie has
evoked, will, I trust, remain with us, even
after we part.â€
“True, Edith,†returned Harry, in his
droll quiet way : “ in the first place we have
Constancy, which will teach us to remember
and love each other always, though we should
be separated.â€
“ And Cheerfulness,†added Fred, “ which
286 TIE CONCLUSION.
is a quality I feel it my especial duty to cul-
tivate. I hope you will all follow the ex-
ample I ‘shall endeavour to set, and each
carry with you a fairy sunbeam.â€
“We must not forget Ida’s experiment,â€
responded Mabel; ‘‘ but remember to per-
form all our duties well, trusting that a good
result will follow.â€
“ And the lesson of Persevering Industry
I shall carry to school with me, to assist in
accomplishing my tasks, which often appear
irksome and useless,†said Edward, “as
I at least have no golden root to depend
upon.â€
« And I,†continued Robert, “ must think
of Master Snip when I crave any thing of
another's, and so avoid covetousness.â€
“ We must all remember the lesson of For-
bearance and Forgiveness which the white
violet teaches,†remarked Grace ; “then we
shall be always beloved.â€
“Yes,†added her sister Clara ; “‘if at the
THE CONCLUSION. 287
same time we wear the Invisible Vail and
the Enchanted Mirror.â€
“Do not let us leave the Singing Bird
from Fariy-land behind us,†said Marian;
“for without its cheering strain we could
never indulge a thought of meeting again.â€
‘I am happy, my dear children,†now spoke
the good Aunt Elsie, “tosee the fairy sunbeam
of cheerfulness already dissipating the gloom
of parting ; and shall feel blest indeed, if in
your after life you are guided by even one good
spirit from the quiet shades of Woodleigh.â€
And now the little people had departed,
and Aunt Elsie was left alone with little
Lilie, to the enjoyment of the favourite
resorts. Summer deepened into autumn,
and the forest trees were clothed in foliage
of gorgeous and varied hues.
“The sound of dropping nuts was heard
in the still woods,†and the nimble squirrel
laid up his winter store.
288 THE CONCLUSION.
Then came the bleak north wind, and with
his icy breath stripped the branches of their _
crisped leaves, and hung glittering icicles in
their stead. The sun loved not to look upon
the scene of desolation, and hurriedly sunk
to rest, leaving the long dark nights to brood
over the gloomy forest and the frozen earth.
And then it was Christmas once more.
Thus as their seasons rolled on in their
appointed course, and the holidays came
again, the dear old house at Woodleigh was
filled with bright and happy faces; and the
good Aunt Elsie was ever surrounded with
her beloved group of Fireside Fairies, or
circle of Midsummer Fays.
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EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY 7. NELSON AND GONS
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