M ■'^^'^/tSrrt^ <^irt:iS:U^^t:^^> AND HIS enM/^fl/ ^ iipi/. ILLUSTRATED. A^* <^\ ,^- "Db. MARY D: BRINE, Authoj- of '■'■Grandma's Attic Treasures ," "From Gold to Grey," etc., etc. COPYRIGHTED BY T. E. D. DARLING. [^ JiiL 23 1887.y" New York : T. E. D. DARLING. \' ^J't ■^r.^n ^11 1 through the day the ^A^ind and rain Had driven o'er each street and lane Of our big eity, till at last The t^vi light shado^vs gathered fast. - And tv^^inkling through the gloom about The misty city lights shone out; Some from the honaes ^vhere love and peace Would help -discomfort quickly cease ; Sonne from the homes v^here hand in hand Grim poverty and pain Avould stand; And some, alas I from haunts ^vhere men Forged for their vv^oes ne^v chains again. Amid the cro^vd that jostled by, With tired feet and stifled sigh, Went Bennie Moore, a blue-eyed lad, The only joy his mother had. 3he ^A^as a ^A^idov^. Day by day J I^S sewed hep health and strength a^vay, While her young son, ^A^ith anxious heart, To help her bravely tried his part. And v/alked the busy eity through, Seeking some w^ork to find and do. Yet search v/as vain. Men said that he Looked ^veak an "errand-boy" to be; Looked sick and small ; in fact they had No jobs to give so young a lad. And so with each discouraged night Came tears to dim the blue eyes' light, While Bennie in his heart v/ould say, "Please, Lord, do help mamma, I pray!" All through this day of chilling rain The boy had tried and tried again *'Odd jobs" to find, of any kind — Or hard or light, he would not mind. But no^v, still empty-handed, he Went shivering homeAvard, v/earily, The earnest question on his tongue, a ir|8rnrn§^, ?> nine years old too young For AA^ork?" ''Dear child," she ans^A^ered, ''you Are not as strong — alas, 'tis true — As many other boys you meet Each day upon the busy street. Be patient till you're older gro^A^n, T/ien Mother will not toil alone." So little Bennie's heart gre^A^ sore. He pondered his grave question o'er, Till suddenly a happy thought By his quick, eager brain ^A^as caught. Nor did he let it go till he Had studied it most thoroughly. He kne^A^— ^A^hat little boy does not? — Of that most fascinating spot Called " Country." Every dear child knov/s It is a lovely place that grows Outside of city v^-alls and lies All free beneath the distant skies. Our Bennie had no map to trace ^ town, locality or place ; He only kne^A^ that somewhere gre^A^ High hills, and happy valleys, too. He only longed, AA^ith all his heart, From city v/ays and \voes to part ; To go AA^here boys v/ere not so many And he could earn an honest penny. All night he pondered on his plan Till morning came. Dear little man! Ho^A^ quick his tongue found leave to speak. When mother's kiss v^as on his cheek: *' Mother, dear Mother, I miust go!" He plead ; " for in my heart I know That some kind farmer v^ill eixiploy And find some errands for your boy. Then when the Christnaas time shall come I'll bring my earnings safely home; And you and I, O Mother dear, Will have a happy Christmas cheer" **Ah, Bennie, no!" she sadly said. M)Ut Bennie, as she shook her head, Fell back upon his last resource. " No^v look at me, mamma, of course, I shall be gro^A^ing strong and well In the fresh air. You cannot tell HoAA^ sure I am that it vv^ill be The very best of things for me." His mother gazed upon him there. The little face ^^ras far too fair For perfect health, and well she kne^v The shado^A^ in those eyes so blue. "CB.n it be God's o^A^n plan," thought she, '' Which, though it take my child from me Yet offers health and strength to him ? Dare I refuse?" Her eyes gre^A^ dim. She laid her hand upon his head. ''God bless you, Bennie, go I" she said. Olsi Amos Green came up the hill From his broad meadow land below, Just as the setting sun had shed O'er hill and dale its crimson glow. The farmer whistled as he walked, And to his shepherd dog he talked With kindly notice. "Shep, old boy. Life after all is full of joy, If folks would only look about An' try to pick its comforts out, Instead o' grumblin' day by day. (j^QUCC things don't always go their ^A^ay." Shep ^A/agged his tail, then paused to hark; Pricked up his ears, and v/ith a bark Went bounding forward to the gate, Where he had seen a figure vv^ait. A little figure, thinly elad, A tired, yet a hopeful lad ; For on the farmer's sunburned face, Surprise to kindly smiles gave place. "Why, bless my soul! who have ^A^e here?" Then Bennie, ^A^ithout shame or fear, Told ^A^ho he was, and ^A^hence he came ; Showed his small feet, so bruised and laiTie, From climbing hills, and walking o'er Long roads he ne'er had seen before — Told also zo/iy he'd come a^A^ay From home, in a strange place to stay. " Pve stopped at many a house to see If anybody ^A^anted me ; Put I'm too little. Don't folks kno\A^ ©I^S^L little boys can biggei^ gro^A^?" He stopped and laid his soft, pale cheek On Shep's broad head. Shep couldn't speak, But v/ith his eyes he seemed to say : '' Master, don't send the boy av^^ay." "Well, lad, AA^hat is it you would do?" Asked Farmer Green, " Stay here ^A^ith you, And do odd jobs and things. You'll see Hov/ useful I ^A^ill try to be," Was Bennie's eager ansv/er, while He lightened 'neath the old man's smile. " Please, sir, I'm tired AA^ith my walk, And most too tired to even talk!" Then came the farmer's sister, Prue — (Beloved of children ^A^ere those t^vo, Who in their cheerful home together Had bravely shared life's changeful AA^eather ; — Those two alone, and loving all Young folks around, or large or small, Were lovingly by children claimed, yi\n(^, " Uncle," "Auntie," they ^A^ere named.) She eanae, Aunt Prue, and laid her hand On Bennie's bro^A^, " We understand, Poor little boy! Don't tremble sol Amos, ^A^e'U need his help, I knov^, As little chore boy. Surely v^e Won't grudge the pay to such as he." NoAA^ fancy little Ben, each day, His young heart gro^A^ing light and gay, And more than that, so grateful, too, For all the AA^ork he found to do ; ''And, dear naamma, it's so much better (He told his mother in his letter), "To live up here where fields are Avide, And there is lots of sky, beside ; And AA/here I kno^A^, that every day, // ?> /or you I earn my pay. My farmer is so kind to me! I call him Uncle Amos — he Is that to all the children here, I m sure you'd love him, mother dear!" All this, and more beside, did Ben In his o^A^n fashion Avrite ; and then The kind old farmer dropped it in The mail-box ^vith a merry grin, To think ho^v Bennie little knev/ That with it v^ent — a "greenback," too. Well, days slipped by, and Amos Green, As it Avas plainly to be seen, Gve^^r very fond of Ben, the ^A^hile Aunt Prue's devotion made him smile. *' You'll spoil the boy!" he often cried. "No less will you!" Aunt Prue replied. And Ben, except for missing mother, Preferred this home to any other. November's reign ^A^as o'er at last ; The "holidays" v/ere coming fast. Each Aveek Ben dropped his pennies in The little savings bank of tin ; Each ^veek he felt its vv^eight again. '^^ ®W§^^ gro^A^ing heavier, that was plain. Ho^A^ far, how very far a^vay To Bennie seemed that dismal day Of v^ind and rain, the last one he Had walked the streets so tearfully ; Because he tried the long day through And had not found a ''job" to do ! Since then how happy he had grov/n, And ho^A^ the days had fairly flov^n With all the chores he had on hand I (He ne'er Avas idle, understand, While yet one duty v^as undone Before the setting of the sun.) He helped the farmer feed the cows, And helped to turn them out to browse ; He took the horse to ^vater, then Rode bare-back to the barn again ; He fed the chickens every day. And hunted for the eggs so ^vhite. And fed the great Avhite pig, and oh I JO busy he from morn till night, That Aunele Amos used to say, " I tell you, Ben, I do not kno^v HoAA^ I could run this farm if you Were not on hand to run it too." At Christmas-time Ben meant to be With his mamma again. But she, Still anxious for his health, ^A^rote, " No. Stay till the cold ^A^inds cease to blo^v." Then, thoughtful, loving Auntie Prue Said, "Ben, I'll tell you what we'll do. Send on your money. Don't you see What a nice Christmas-gift 't^vill be For mother from her boy? And more You'll earn before the winter's o'er. At Christmas I mvHI give for you A little party. Just a few Of happy children gathered here To help you taste of Christmas cheer." "A Christmas party?" Bennie's eyes i^FGW sunny as the sunniest skies. He'd heard of such, poor little boy! But ne'er had tasted of the joy Which Christmas pleasures ever bring To homes ^vhere life's best sunbeanns eling. And so he counted patiently, The days ere Christmas-time should be, And every evening brought his books With ^villing heart and cheery looks To study with kind Auntie Prue, And practice up his AA^riting too ; For very glad ^A^as she, indeed, To help him in his every need. Well satisfied when on her cheek He'd kiss the thanks he could not speak. fe'O ! for the merry Christmas-time I When hearts must sing and bells must ehime! Our Bennie at the peep of day Thre^^^ dro^A^sy thoughts far, far away, And at the ^vindow stood to see The rising sun so gloriously Proclaim to all the listening earth, "This is the day of Jesus' birth!" Into his clothes he scrannbled fast, And down the stairs he flev^ at last ; Cried, " Merry Christmas I" to Aunt Prue, The same to Auncle Amos too ; Then out across the barnyard, where He rang his greetings on the air. That all his farmyard pets might know What made his heart with pleasure glov^. Thro^^^ing the barn doors open AA^ide, [Do poked his curly head inside. "A Merry Christmas, good old Grey!" The mare responded with a neigh, And Bennie standing on his toes, Kissed lovingly her soft bro^A^n nose. No^A^ then, the first thing I ^A^ill do Must be to find for Auntie Prue Some eggs for that big pudding she Is going to make to-day for me ; Oh ! shan't I have "—alas ! M^hat thought In Bennie's heart just then was born To drive the sunshine from his eyes, And make him sad that merry morn? He knew his mother thought of him, In her poor home, vv^ith eyes so dim With unshed tears, she scarce could see The ^A^ork she sewed so \vearily. No happy Christmas day for her; No joy to make her pulses stir As Bennie's did, nor to her share ^^Oulsl fall his sumptuous Christmas fare. What v^onder that all signs of joy Fled from the blue eyes of her boy 1 '' But she has got my money now f (Back rolled the eloud from Bennie's brow, While dimples gathered thick and fast). ''And I have helped mamma at last I" Oh, cheering thought! Straigh^vay our Ben Became a merry boy again, And when the party ^vas begun, No happier child beneath the sun Could e'er be found than Bennie Moore, Who played as he ne'er played before. And oh! the dinner! there they sat, The children — rosy-cheeked and fat. Their appetites far more than able To do full justice to the table. While farmer Green and Auntie Prue Helped them to eat and chatter, too. mm} feo! fop the garret dim and wide, Cobwebbed with dust from side to side ] Thither the children, girls and boys, Betook themselves and all their noise, Intent upon a hunt throughout ©I^O time-^A^orn rubbish stored about. What fun they had! and how they played That they ^^/ere pirates, making raid Upon such prey as came their ^vay. Till Bennie, with a shout so gay That it ^A^ent ringing through and through The house, and startled Auntie Prue And Unele Amos as they sat, Having an after-dinner ehat — Discovered in an old-time ehest A little sailor suit. In jest He slipped it on. " See, fellers, see I It's almost little enough for me. I'd like to be a sailor boy And go to places far av/ay, And see such lots of curious things As sailors see. I ^vill some day. My father M^as a sailor, he Was fourteen v/hen he ^A^ent to sea. I knoAA^, because he told mie so. JMUl then, you see, he didn't go As big men do. He ran away — My father did, one sumnnep day. And left his home. I think that / Would rather have stayed to say good-by. He didn't though, he thought 't^^^as fun To run a^A^ay. The thing was done Before he scarce had planned it, see? He used to tell it all to me, And then he'd look so sad, as though Some things had grieved him long ago." Now it had chanced that Bennie's shout Had draAA^n the farmer from his chair. And hastening to the garret stairs. He paused awhile to listen there. " For like as not some mischief they Will do before the close of day." Thought he, and standing there, had heard Of Bennie's story every ^A^ord. And still he stood with his gray eyes %/l^ov/n AA^ide ^A^ith \vonder and surprise. While little Ben, in suit of blue, Telling his story, little kneAA^ Of the one auditor, unseen, Whose listening ears gre^A^ sharp and keen. Ben's little heart AA^as stirred AA^ith pride, As ''Tell us morel" the children cried; He loved to talk — they loved to listen. And \\ow his eyes began to glisten As in his childish Avay he told The story now^ to him so old. ''Well, papa used to tell to me, Ho^v he grev/ tired of the sea, And v/ent back to his home again. And stayed a^vhile, and then — and then Some trouble came to him, and so He v/anted once again to go Av/ay from everybody, and He did so. I don't understand Exactly hovv^ it was, for he ^o^jIgI often put me off his knee. And up and do^A^n the floor v^ould v/alk, And stop me ^A^hen I ^A^ished to talk." The farmer's face grevv^ sad and ^A^hite, He clenched his strong hands hard and tight : Long years ago a ^^^ay^A^ard brother, The youngest born — whose v/ido^A^ed mother Had left him ^^ith a dying prayer To brother's and to sister's care, — Had quarreled with his brother's \vill, And run away, alas! and still The grief ^A^ithin the hearts he left Was such as then. The home bereft Of that young brother's form and face, Still held for him a AA^eleoming place Should he return— though years had flown, And of his life no AA^ord was known, Till no^A^, the elder brother heard Through Bennie's lips, sad M^ord by ^A^ord, Of him their love had borne in mind, ^^lLl2 thoughts so tender and so kind. How^ plainly no^A^ could all be seen By the excited Farmer Green ! His AA^andering brother's very nam^ He'd changed, that he might quit all claim To the dear home, and none might knoAV Of him whose pride had fall'n so low. But Bennie still talked on and told How^ poor they were ; so often cold And hungry, too. "But yet/' said he, " Father ^vas al^A^ays kind to me And my mamima!" ''So kind," he cried, Speaking the Avords ^A^ith boyish pride In that dear father's love, "that when He died, v/e scare could smile again For such a v/eary ^vhile : I hiow That something vexed him long ago. 'Cause once I heard my mother say 'You'll see your home again some day.' ' I have no home save here with you,' i%y father said ; ' too proud am I To turn to those I've hurt, and cry After so nnany years, for aid ! ' These are the very AMords he said." With tears upon his sun-broAvned cheek, Old Amos Green his sister sought. " Come I " as she stared at him amazed, " Come, see ^vhat this strange day has brought To us." He led her tremiblingly Up the old stairs that she naight see The little '' chore-boy " of the farm Still in the sailor suit arrayed. The farmer grasped his sister's arm. "Speak, Prue, whose suit does Bennie wear? She turned, and o'er her face a shade Of anger passed. " Ho^A^ did they dare To use ^/m^ in their play?" she cried. Old Amios drew^ her to his side. " Our long lost brother, dear, is dead ! Ben wears — his^father s sinlf" he said. ©I^St night a liappy little boy Knelt dovs/n to pray in ^A^ords of joy And praise, to the good God above, Out of a heart o'er full of love. For had he not at Auntie's side, Learned ho^v the blessed Christmas-tide Had given him a legal right To love his ne^v-found home so bright? And listening to the sad, sweet tale Of his dead father's boyish years. What gift more treasured than the suit Once laid a^vay w^ith many tears. But which in merry, boyish play, Hed proudly \vorn that Christmas day? And think you it ^A^as long before Ben sa^A^ his dear mamma once more? Ah, no indeed 1 for Farmer Green No moments ^vasted ere he eame To our big city one fine day Another sister dear to claim. ©0 found her in her lonely room, Just at the early tAA^ilight's gloonri, And gently broke the weleonne news To her AA^hose her heart could not refuse To listen and believe. She heard Him through, and then at the last word Fainted for joy, for she was weak, E'en \vhile her ^'brother'' kissed her cheek. But joy ^A^on't kill, they say, and so. LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS IP^GF tired heart put off its woe, And all her cares and all her fears Were \A^ashed away in happy tears. No need to tell of the glad day When Bennie, rosy-eheeked and gay, Stretched out his arms mamnria to greet, And weleonfie with his kisses s\^eet To the old home, \vhere Auntie Prue A sisters v/elcome tendered too. No need to tell ho^v Farmer Green — The happiest "uncle" ever seen — The joyous ne^vs spread far and Avide, With Ben (to help himi) at his side. But this I'll say, that to this day Old Amos Green his full heart lifts In loving gratitude for those '-'' Most unexpected Christmas gifts.' 015 971 052 ft i