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BESSIE IN THE CITY. 
 
BOOKS BT JOANNA H. MATHEWS, 
 
 — ♦ — 
 I. THE BESSIE BOOKS. 
 
 G vols. In a box. $7.50. 
 
 II. THE ELOWERETS. 
 
 A SERIES OF STORIES ON THE COMMAilDMENTS. 
 
 6 vols. In a box. $3.60. 
 
 III. LITTLE SUNBEAMS. 
 
 6 vols. In a box. $6.00. 
 
 IV. KITTY AND LULU BOOKS. 
 
 6 vols. In a box. $600. 
 
 V. MISS ,ASHTOFS GIRLS. 
 
 6 vols. In a neat box. $7.50. 
 
 VL HAPS AND MISHAPS. 
 
 6 vols. $7.50. 
 
 BT JULIA A. MATHEWS, 
 I. DARE TO DO RIGHT SERIES. 
 
 5 vols. In a box. $5.50. 
 
 II. DRAYTON HALL STORIES. 
 
 Illustrative of tbe Beatitudes. 6 vols. In a box. $4.50. 
 
 III. THE GOLDEN LADDER SERIES. 
 
 stories illustrative of tbe Lord's Prayer. 6 vols. $3.00. 
 
 ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 
 
 New York, 
 
Bessie in City, 
 
 FBONHSPIBCE. 
 
^LJlikSgr^&Jl&..S2r-.lLjikS2r-^^^ 
 
 mmt\ 
 
 j''r-^r-'Si5"'\?^itr-^5r'T?'^5^^^ 
 
 ESSIE IN THE ^ITY. 
 
 BY 
 
 y^OAJVJ^A H. MATHEWS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BESSIE AT THE SEA-SIDE. 
 
 ' Little drops of water, little grains of sand, 
 Make the mighty ocean and the pleasant land.' 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 
 530 Broa.dway. 
 
Entered, a*:cording to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
 
 ROBERT CARTER A^'D BROTHERS, 
 
 n.tt.eClerk'sOfficeoftl.eDi.txictCourtoftl.eUnited States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
^0 the ^hiWtfen of 
 DR. JOHN MURRAY CARNOCHAN^ 
 
 THE KDfD FRIEND AlfD PHYSICIA2T 
 
 To whose skill and patience I owe a life-long 
 debt of gratitude, 
 
 Is THIS Little Book 
 Most Affectionately Dedicated. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 « I8gl ' 
 
 /. Little Friends at Home, , 
 II. Maggie's Plan^ 
 III. TJie Miser, 
 IV. Flossy, .... 
 V. The ColoneVs Story, 
 VI. The Story Contitiued, 
 VII. The Peach- Stones, . 
 VIII. The Netv Gloves, 
 IX. T^o Lost Pets, 
 JC. Home Again, 
 XI. New Plans, 
 XIL A Visitor, .... 
 
 XIII. The Bank-Notes, 
 
 XIV. Discovery, .... 
 XV. The Snow, 
 
 XVI. Shoppiyigfor Christmas, 
 XVII. Christmas, . . • 
 
 XVIII. The Purchase of the Library, 
 
 Page 
 9 
 
 30 
 
 52 
 
 73 
 
 104 
 
 127 
 
 147 
 167 
 187 
 212 
 236 
 
 255 
 281 
 297 
 309 
 330 
 352 
 378 
 
BESSIE IN THE CITY, 
 
 I. 
 
 LITTLE FRIENDS AT HOME, 
 
 AMMA," said Maggie Bradford, as she 
 sat upon the floor in her mother's 
 room, lacing her walking boots, — '* mamma, 
 I wish I had another terrible fault." 
 
 " Why, Maggie ! " said Mrs. Bradford. 
 
 " I do, indeed, mamma, — a dreadful fault, 
 something a great deal worse than careless- 
 ness." 
 
 Mrs. Bradford was busy unpacking trunks 
 and arranging drawers and closets ; for the 
 family had just come home from the sea-shore, 
 where they had been spending the summer; 
 
lO Bessie in the City, 
 
 but she was so surprised to hear Maggie say 
 this that she turned around with her hands 
 full, to look at her little daughter. She saw 
 that Maggie was very much in earnest, and 
 had some reason for this strange wish. 
 
 " And why do you wish that, daughter ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 '' Because, mamma, if I had such a fault, 
 people would be so very anxious I should cure 
 it. Oh, dear ! there's another knot in my 
 shoe-string ! " and Maggie gave a jerk and 
 a hard pull at her boot-lace. '' I do not at 
 all wish to keep it, only to break myself of 
 it." 
 
 '' But why should you wish for a fault 
 which would grieve your friends and trouble 
 yourself only that you may be at the pains of 
 curing it, Maggie? You have faults enough, 
 dear ; and if they are not what may be called 
 very terrible, they are quite serious enough to 
 
Little Friends at Hofue, ii 
 
 need all your attention, and you should be 
 thankful that it does not require a harder 
 struggle to overcome them." 
 
 " I know that, mamma," answered Maggie, 
 with a very grave face ; " but then you see if 
 my friends wished me very much to cure my 
 fault, perhaps they would offer me money to 
 do it. You know when I used to be so very, 
 very careless. Grandpapa Duncan paid me for 
 trying to do better, so that I might help earn 
 the easy-chair for lame Jemmy Bent. And I 
 want money very much, — a great deal of it, 
 mamma." 
 
 " But that would be a very poor reason for 
 wishing to rid yourself of a bad fault, my 
 cliild. And why do you want so much money ? 
 It seems to me that you have everything 
 given to you which a reasonable little girl 
 can want; and besides you have your weekly 
 allowance of six cents." 
 
12 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Yes, ma'am,'' said Maggie, with another 
 jerk at her boot-lace ; " but Bessie and I want 
 to save all our allowance for Christmas. "We 
 want to have two whole dollars, so that we 
 can give presents to every one of the family 
 and all the servants and Colonel and Mrs. 
 Rush. And we have told every one that we 
 are going to do it, so it would not be quite 
 fair to take the money for anything else ; 
 would it, mamma ? " 
 
 " Not if you have promised to spend it in 
 that way," said Mrs. Bradford, with a smile at 
 the thought of how much the two dollars were 
 expected to furnish ; " but it is wiser not to 
 make such large promises. You should have 
 been very sure that you wished to spend youi 
 money for presents before you said you would 
 do so." 
 
 " But I do wish to use it for that, mamma, 
 and so does Bessie, but we have another plan 
 
Little Friends at Home^ 13 
 
 in our minds. Bessie and I like to have 
 plans, and this is a charity plan, mamma, and 
 will take a great deal of money. There, now, 
 there's that boot-lace broken! I just believe 
 that shoemaker sells bad laces on purpose to 
 provoke little girls. Something ought to be 
 done to him. It's such a bother to lace my 
 boots, and 'most always just when I have one 
 done, the lace breaks. It's too bad ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is too bad, Maggie, quite too bad 
 that you should destroy so many laces ; but I 
 scarcely think Mr. White does his work poorly 
 on purpose to vex his little customers. It is 
 your own impatience and heedlessness, my 
 daughter, which are to blame. You pull and 
 drag at your shoe-strings, not taking time to 
 fasten them properly, and of course they knot 
 and break. That is the second one this week, 
 and last week, also, you destroyed two. You 
 say you wish to learn to dress yourself, that 
 
14 Bessie in the City, 
 
 you may be a useful and helpful little girl ; 
 but you make more trouble than you save 
 when you tear the buttons and strings from 
 your clothes, or knot and fray your shoe- 
 laces. It would have been mnch more con- 
 venient for me to put on your boots for you 
 than it is to leave what I am doing to find a 
 lace among all these trunks and boxes. Do 
 you sec, Maggie ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Maggie, looking very 
 much mortified, " but do you not tliink my 
 carelessness is any better ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I do, pussy. I do not wish to 
 take from my little girl any of the credit she 
 deserves, and you need not look so distressed. 
 You are much more careful tlian you were 
 six months ago ; you have tried hard, and im- 
 proved very much ; but you have still some- 
 thing- to do in that way, dear. I think you 
 will find the old faults quite troublesome 
 
Little Friends at Home, 15 
 
 enough without wishing for new ones to 
 cure." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Maggie, " but then — '* 
 " Well, dear, but then — what ? " 
 " Why, mamma, I wouldn't feel as if it was 
 quite right to wish to be paid twice over for 
 curing myself of -the same fault, and Grand- 
 papa Duncan might think it was not fair." 
 
 " You are right, Maggie," said Mrs. Brad- 
 ford, " and I am glad to hear you say that ; 
 but I should like to understand why you and 
 Bessie wish for a great deal of money. If it 
 is for a good purpose, I think I can put you in 
 the way of earning some." 
 
 " Oh, would youf mamma ? That would 
 be so nice ! Bessie," — as her little sister came 
 into the room, dressed for her walk, and fol- 
 lowed by Jane with Maggie's hat and sack 
 in her hand, — " Bessie, mamma thinks she 
 can let us earn some money." 
 
j6 Bessie in the City. 
 
 " Thank you, mamma," said Bessie ; ** that 
 is delighterful. I am so glad." 
 
 " I will tell you what it is for, mamma," 
 said Maggie. 
 
 " Not now, dear," said Mrs. Bradford ; " it is 
 time for your walk, and you must let Jane 
 put on your things. When you come home, 
 you shall tell me, and meanwhile, I will be 
 thinking in what way I can help you. But 
 remember, I only promise to do so if I think 
 well of your plan. You may think it a 
 very wise one, while I may think it very fool- 
 ish." 
 
 "Oh, mamma," said Maggie, "I am quite 
 sure you will think this is wise. Mrs. Rush 
 made it, and she is so very good that it must 
 be quite right." 
 
 " Yes, I think any plan Mrs. Rush proposes 
 for you will be a safe one," said Mrs. Brad 
 ford, with a smile. 
 
Little J^riends at Ho7ne, 17 
 
 " You mean you have trust in her, mam- 
 ma ? " said Bessie. 
 
 " Yes, dear. I can trust her. She is a 
 true and faithful friend to me and to my littlo 
 ones," answered Mrs. Bradford, as she stooped 
 and kissed first one and then the other of lier 
 little girls. •' And now good-by, my darlings. 
 I will hear all when you come back. I hope 
 you will have a pleasant walk." 
 
 " I shall not, mamma," said Maggie, with a 
 solemn shake of her curly head. " I am so 
 very anxious to tell you, and to hear what we 
 can do, that I shall not enjoy my walk at all. 
 I wish I could stay at home." 
 
 But Maggie found herself mistaken ; for 
 the day was so bright and pleasant, the park 
 so cool, green, and shady, and so full, of other 
 little children, that she not only enjoyed her 
 walk very much, bat for the time quite for- 
 got her plan and her wish to earn money. 
 2 
 
jS Bessie in the Ltty, 
 
 And in the park, our little girls met a friend 
 whom they were very glad to see. They were 
 running down one of the broad paths, when 
 Bessie saw an old gentleman coming towards 
 them with a pleasant smile on his face. She 
 stood still to take a second look, and then 
 called to her sister. 
 
 " Oh, Maggie, here's our dear friend, Mr. 
 Hall ! " 
 
 " Why, so it is ! " said Maggie, in glad 
 surprise, for this was a very unexpected 
 pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Hall lived but two or three doors from 
 Mr. Bradford, and as he generally came for a 
 walk in the park after his breakfast, Maggie 
 and Bessie were almost sure to meet him 
 when they were out in the morning. But 
 he was not apt to be there in the afternoon, 
 and so they had not looked for him at this 
 time. 
 
Little Fi'iefids at Home, 19 
 
 It so happened that Mr. Hall had stepped 
 out upon his front stoop just as Mrs. Brad- 
 ford's little flock started for their walk ; and 
 there he saw them all going down the street. 
 He put on his hat, took his gold-headed cane, 
 and walked out after them. 
 
 " Mr. Hall, I am very pleased to see you," 
 said Bessie. 
 
 " And so am I, Mr. Hall," said Maggie. 
 
 " And I am very much pleased to see you," 
 said Mr. Hall ; " but I should like to know 
 what has become of two little granddaughters 
 of mine, who went away to the sea-shore two 
 months since. I thought I should find them 
 in the park ; but in their place I find two little 
 strangers, who have no name for me but Mr. 
 Hall." 
 
 ''Oh, I forgot, — Grandpapa Hall," said 
 ^[aggie. 
 
 *'Dear Grandpapa Hall," said Bessie, " please 
 
20 Besste in the City. 
 
 don't let your feelings be hurt, 'cause we only 
 forgot for one moment. You know it's so long 
 since we saw you." 
 
 " And did yon forget me while you were 
 away ? " asked Mr. Hall. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Bessie, '' we thinked about 
 you very often, and talked about you too." 
 
 " Well, let us sit down and talk a little," 
 said Mr. Hall, as he seated himself on a 
 bench, and made Maggie and Bessie take 
 their places, one on each side of him. " And 
 so you came back from Quam Beach yester- 
 day ? " he said. 
 
 *'Yes, sir," said Bessie, — "yesterday, in 
 the afternoon. How did you know it ? " 
 
 •• Oh, I saw the carriages drive up, and 
 papa and mamma and a whole regiment of lit- 
 tle folks pouring out of them. I came out 
 this morning, expecting to find you in the 
 park, but you were nowhere to be seen." 
 
Little Friends at Home, 21 
 
 " No," said Bessie, " mamma was so busy 
 nurse and Jane had to help her, so we could 
 not take our walk." 
 
 "Ah, to be sure, I might have thought of 
 that, and called for you myself." 
 
 " But we helped mamma too, and she said 
 we were of great use to her, so we could not 
 have gone out," said Maggie. 
 
 " That was right," said Mr. Hall. " Always 
 be of use to dear mamma whenyou can." 
 
 " We can't do much," said Bessie ; " we are 
 too little." 
 
 " I do not know about that," answered Mr. 
 Hall. " These little hands and feet can lielp 
 mamma a good deal, if they are only willing. 
 If you can do nothing else, you can be quiet 
 and patient when she is busy. If you do not 
 make trouble, you save trouble." 
 
 " And we can 'muse baby," said Bessie. 
 
 " So you can. Halloa, little man ! How 
 
22 Bessie in the City. 
 
 do you do ? " This was said to Franky, who 
 had just come up with Jane. 
 
 Franky remembered Mr. Hall quite well, 
 and he also remembered how the old gentle- 
 man used to give him sugar-plums out of his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Welly well," he answered. " Me want 
 sudar-plum." 
 
 '^ Oh, you naughty boy ! " said Maggie. 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Mr. Hall. " I quite 
 forgot the sugar-plums this afternoon. When 
 I saw my little friends going up the street, I 
 thought of nothing but the pleasure of joining 
 them, and hurried out as quickly as I could." 
 
 " Dive Franky sudar-plums," said the child 
 again. 
 
 "Oh, Franky!" said Bessie, "don't be so 
 yude. You make us very mortified. Please 
 to 'sense him, Mr. Hall ; he don't know any 
 better, 'cause he's only three years old," 
 
Little Friends at Home, 23 
 
 Mr. Hall laughed and offered Franky his 
 stick to ride 011, but the little boy would not 
 take it ; and when he found he could not 
 have the sugar-plums, walked away with an 
 offended air, which amused the old gentleman 
 very much, though it distressed his sisters, 
 who thought him very impolite. 
 
 " And now tell me about Quam Beach," 
 said Mr. Hall. " You liked it very much, did 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Bessie, " the sea is there." 
 *' And you were fond of the sea ? " 
 " Oh, yes, sir ! it is beautiful, and it has 
 waves, and they come up on the beach and 
 bring the sea-weed and shells, and make such 
 a pleasant sound. And we could see so far, 
 far away out over the water, and we saw the 
 ships and steamers too. And there are yocks 
 that we could sit on and play on, and we 
 liked it so much. I wish there was a sea 
 
24 Bessie in the City, 
 
 here, Grandpapa Hall. Did you ever go to 
 the sca-sliore ? " 
 
 " Yes, often, and I have been to Quam 
 Beach, and thought it quite as pleasant as 
 you seem to have found it." 
 
 " We used to have clap-bakes," said Mag- 
 gie. 
 
 " And go out in the boat," said Bessie. 
 
 " And in the wagon for straw rides, and to 
 swing in the barn," said Maggie. 
 
 " And over to the hotel to see grand- 
 mamma, and Colonel and Mrs. Yush," said 
 Bessie. 
 
 " Who are Colonel and Mrs. Rush ? " asked 
 Mr. Hall. 
 
 " Old friends of papa and mamma, and new 
 friends of me and Maggie," answered Bessie ; 
 " and we love them — oh, so much ! " 
 
 " Colonel Rush is an English soldier," said 
 Maggie, " and he was shot in a battle, so his 
 
Little Priends at Home, 25 
 
 foot had to be cut off, and he has been very 
 sick, but he's better now." 
 
 " And they came to the city with us yester- 
 day," said Bessie, " and went to the hotel ; 
 and Mrs. Yush is going to have a class on 
 Sunday, and we are to go to it." 
 
 *'Are you going to leave your Sunday- 
 school ? " asked Mr. Hall. 
 
 " I never went to Sunday-school," said 
 Bessie. '' Maggie did, but mamma thought I 
 was too little ; but she said I might go to Mrs. 
 Yush, 'cause it was not too far. Mrs. Yush 
 can't go to Sunday-school, 'cause she must 
 yide to church with the colonel, and she can- 
 not come back for him in time. Maggie's 
 teacher is going away, and she is to go to 
 Mrs. Yush too, and Lily Norris and Gracie 
 Howard." 
 
 " We are all to go to her on Sunday morn- 
 ings," said Maggie ; "and when she and the 
 
20 Bessie in the City, 
 
 colonel go to church, they are to take Bessie, 
 if it is too cold for her to walk ; so now she 
 can go to church 'most every Sunday. Last 
 winter she went very seldom because mamma 
 thought the walk too long for her, and was 
 afraid she would take cold. Don't you think 
 it is a very nice 'rangement, Grandpapa 
 Hall ? " 
 
 u Very," said Mr. Hall, smiling at Maggie's 
 long word, — "a very nice arrangement ; and 
 I think Mrs. Rush must be a very kind, good 
 lady." 
 
 " She is," answered Maggie, " she's lovely." 
 
 " Grandpapa Duncan says she is as good as 
 she is pretty, and as pretty as she is good,'* 
 said Bessie. 
 
 " And the colonel is very good too," said 
 Maggie, " and they are both very fond of us." 
 
 " That shows them to be sensible people," 
 said Mr. Hall. '' I think I must make the 
 
Little Friends at Home, 27 
 
 acquaintance of this famous Colonel and Mrs. 
 Rush. Will jou introduce me to them ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, we will," answered Bessie, " and 
 perhaps you'll see the colonel in the park 
 some day. He says he shall come and walk 
 here when he feels well enough. He's going 
 to live over there in the hotel ; " and Bessie 
 pointed to the great white building that 
 fronted the park. 
 
 " And how is Grandpapa Duncan ? " asked 
 Mr. Hall. 
 
 " Very well, and Uncle John and Aunt 
 Helen are well too, and Nellie is better, and 
 has ever so many new teeth. Quam Beach 
 did her a great deal of good. Papa and 
 mamma are goings to Riverside the day after 
 to-morrow, and Maggie and I are going with 
 them." 
 
 " I think I know some one beside Nellie to 
 whom Quam Beach has done good," said Mr. 
 
28 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Hall. *' There is some color in these little 
 cheeks which were so pale when you went 
 away, and you are stronger and more able to 
 run about ; while as for Maggie, she has be- 
 come quite a roly-poly." 
 
 " Mr. Hall," said Bessie, " do you know 
 what we are going to bring from River- 
 side ? " 
 
 " No, how should I, when no one has told 
 me?" 
 
 *' Our little dog that Donald, the gardener, 
 gave us," said Bessie. " His name is Flossy, 
 and he's old enough to leave his mother now ; 
 so we are to have him at home." 
 
 " Oh, I remember you told me about him 
 in the spring. So his name is Flossy ; is it ? " 
 
 '' Yes, sir, and he's Maggie's and mine. Do 
 you think he will be lonely without his puppy 
 brothers ? " 
 
 '' Not with two such nice little playmates 
 
Little Friends at Home, 29 
 
 as you and Maggie," said Mr. Hall, " You 
 must bring him out every day and let him 
 have a run in the park." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and papa is going to buy him a 
 collar with his name on it and where he lives, 
 so people will know he is ours if he yuns 
 away." 
 
 " Yery good," said Mr. Hall, " and now 
 suppose we walk around a little, or nurse 
 will think I am keeping you quiet too long." 
 
II 
 
 MAGGIE'S PLAN. 
 
 AGGIE thought of her " plan " again 
 as soon as she reached home, and 
 she and Bessie scampered away to their mam- 
 ma's room to see if she were ready to attend 
 to them. She was dressing for dinner, and 
 so they knew they might go in and talk to 
 her, for she said this was "Maggie's and Bes- 
 sie's hour," and as she dressed, used to tell 
 them stories, or teach them some pretty verses, 
 or listen to them if they had anything to tell 
 her. 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie, " have you thouVht 
 of any way that I can earn money ? " 
 
 " You must tell me what it is wanted for, 
 Maggie." 
 
Maggie's Plan. 31 
 
 ** We want to buy a library, mamma." 
 
 " What library, dear ? " 
 
 *' A mission library, mamma. You know 
 my Sunday-school teacher, Miss Win slow, is 
 going to marry a missionary ; but he is not a 
 heathen missionary." 
 
 *' I hope not," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling. 
 *' You mean, T suppose, that he is not going to 
 India to teach the heathen, but is what is 
 called a home missionary." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, that is it. Mrs. Rush says 
 that he is going far out West, wh-ere the peo- 
 ple have very few churches or Sunday-scliools 
 and scarcely any books, and they are very 
 ignorant, and don't know much about God or 
 how Jesus came to die for them, and I am 
 afraid Miss Winslow wont be very comforta- 
 ble out there, mamma, 'cause they don't havo 
 nice houses like ours, but just rough ones 
 made of logs, which they call log cabins. 
 
32 Bessie in the City. 
 
 You know Miss Winslow is a lady, and I am 
 afraid she wont like to live in a place like 
 that." 
 
 *' Miss Winslow has thought of all that, my 
 darling ; but she is willing to put up with 
 these hardships for the sake of carrying the 
 glad message of salvation to those poor peo- 
 ple." 
 
 "Yes, mamma, and Mrs. Rush says that 
 most of them are very glad to hear it, and so 
 glad to have the books the missionaries bring, 
 and Mr. Long, the gentleman Miss Winslow 
 is to marry, is going to try and have some 
 Sunday-schools for the children who live in log 
 cabins ; and the other day, when Mrs. Rush 
 was talking to us about having the little class 
 in her room on Sunday, she asked us if we 
 would not like to buy a Sunday-school library 
 to send to those poor little children, when Miss 
 Winslow and her missionary go out there. 
 
Maggie's Plan. 33 
 
 You can buy a nice little library for ton dol- 
 lars, mamma; just think, ten dollars! " 
 
 *' Yes, I know, Maggie ; but ten dollars is a 
 great deal of money for two sucli little girls 
 is yon and Bessie to raise in less than four 
 aionths. Miss Winslow is to leave soon after 
 the first of January, and this is now the tenth 
 of September." 
 
 *' But Bessie and I are not to do it by our- 
 selves, mamma. Gracie Howard and Lily 
 Norris are to help ; it is to come from the 
 class, and Mrs. Rush says if we cannot do it 
 alone, she will help us ; but she tliinks the 
 little log-cabin children will like it better if 
 they hear it was all sent by other little chil- 
 dren here, and we would like it better our- 
 selves." 
 
 " And Gracie and Lily are going to try and 
 earn money too? " asked Mrs. Bradford. 
 
 " Tiiey have their share, mamma. Gracie's 
 
34 Bessie m the City, 
 
 grandmamma, who lives in England, always 
 sends her some money on her birthday, — a — 
 a — I forget what she calls it, but she says it 
 is as much as five dollars." 
 
 " A pound? " said Mrs. Bradford. 
 
 "Yes'm, that is it. Gracie says she will 
 give half of the money her grandmamma 
 sent the other day, and Lily has a hundred 
 dollars in her father's bank, and he pays her 
 money 'cause she has it there." 
 
 " That is called paying interest," said Mrs. 
 Bradford. 
 
 " And she has some of that saved up," said 
 Maggie, " and she will have more before 
 Christmas ; so her share will be ready too ; 
 but Bessie and I have no money except our six 
 cents a week, and that, you know, we prom- 
 ised to spend another way. And we don't 
 want to be helped, mamma, but to try and 
 earn the money by ourselves, if we only knew 
 
Maggie's Plan. 35 
 
 how. Do you not think it is a very nice 
 plan, and that the log-cabin children will be 
 very glad when they see the books ? " 
 
 " I think it a very good plan, dear, and I 
 will try to help you. You know, Maggie, 
 we were saying this morning that you were 
 still not quite as careful as you might be. 
 Now I do not much like to pay you for try- 
 ing to break yourself of a bad habit, but as 
 this is for a good purpose, I will tell you what 
 I will do. Every month between now and 
 January, I will put by a dollar for your 
 gloves and boot-laces. This is much more 
 than enough to keep you well supplied, if you 
 take proper care of them, but if you keep on 
 losing your gloves, breaking your boot-laces, 
 and so forth, as you do now, you will have 
 none left for any other purpose. And re- 
 member, I cannot let you do without such 
 little things as you may need, for the sake of 
 
36 Bessie in the City, 
 
 the library. I cannot have jou going without 
 gloves, or with such as are torn or out at the 
 fingers, or with broken or knotted shoe-strings. 
 I must still keep you neat, and shall buy for 
 you whatever I may think necessary. But if 
 you care enough, as I hope you do, for the 
 little Western children to be thoughtful and 
 saving, yovi may still keep as much of this 
 money as will go a good way toward your 
 share of the ten dollars." 
 
 " And am I to have money put by for me, 
 too, mamma ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 " Yes, dear, if you wish it, I will do the 
 same for you." 
 
 Maggie did not look as pleased as her 
 mother had thought she would. 
 
 " What is it, Maggie ? " she asked. " Does 
 not this please you ? Are you not willing to 
 try both to help those little children, and to 
 cure your own fault at the same time ? " 
 
Maggie's Plan. 37 
 
 "Oil, yes'm, I am willing, and I think you 
 are very kind. But Bessie will keep a great 
 deal more money than I shall. You know 
 you said the other day that I had three pairs 
 of gloves where Bessie had one." 
 
 *' Never mind, Maggie," said Bessie, "I 
 think I'll lose a few gloves." 
 
 " No, no," said Mrs. Bradford, laughing and 
 shaking her head, — "no, no, that will not 
 do. 1 cannot have one little sister trying to 
 destroy or lose her things in order that she 
 may he no better off than the other. And 
 I am quite sure my Maggie would not be en- 
 vious if Bessie saved more than she did." 
 
 *' But I may say I will not give more money 
 than Maggie does for the library ; may I not, 
 mamma? You know it is more hers than 
 mine, 'cause she was Miss Winslow's scholar." 
 
 " You may do just as you please about 
 that, dear. Each one may give as much or 
 
38 Bessie in the City, 
 
 as little as she likes, if it is fairly earned 
 or saved. And I can put Maggie in the way 
 of earning money bj work if she wishes for 
 it." 
 
 " How, mamma ? " asked Maggie, eagerly. 
 
 *' I have several dozens of towels to be 
 hemmed, and I intended that Jane should do 
 them all ; but I will keep out one dozen for 
 you, and will pay you five cents apiece. And 
 they must be don^, not at your regular sew- 
 ing lesson, but at other times." 
 
 Now if there was one thing more than an- 
 other which Maggie disliked, it was sewing. 
 She always called the half-hour during which 
 her mother taught her to sew " the worst 
 time of the day." It was strange, too, for she 
 had quick and skilful fingers, and sewed re- 
 markably Tffell for a little girl of seven, and 
 people generally like to do that which they do 
 well. But it was not so with Maggie, and her 
 
Maggie^ s Plan. 39 
 
 face grew very sober wlien her motlier said she 
 might hem her towels. 
 
 *' But, mamma," she said. 
 
 "Well, dear?" 
 
 " Mamma, you know I cannot bear to sew. 
 I do so hate it ! And a dozen towels, — that 
 means twelve, don't it ? — why, 1 should never, 
 never have them done." 
 
 " It shall be just as you choose, dear. I do 
 not say you must do them, only that you may. 
 But, Maggie, we can seldom do much good to 
 others without taking some trouble or using 
 some self-denial ourselves." 
 
 " I do not know what self-denial is, mam- 
 ma." 
 
 " Self-denial is to give up something we 
 would like to have, or perhaps to do some- 
 thing that is disagreeable or troublesome to 
 ourselves, for the sake of another. This 
 morning I gave you two plums, — one for your- 
 
40 Bessie in the City, 
 
 self, one for Bessie. One was much larger 
 than tlie other, and I saw that you gave it to 
 Bessie, keeping the smaller one for yourself. 
 That was self-denial." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Maggie, *' that was 
 not anything much. I could not do such a 
 greedy thing as to give my own Bessie the 
 little plum and cat the big one myself. I 
 would be too ashamed." 
 
 '♦ I am glad to say that neither of my lit- 
 tle girls is greedy or selfish," said mamma. 
 " Do you remember the day at Quam Beach 
 when your head was hurt, and Tom Norris 
 came up to read a new book to you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes'm, it was so kind of him; and he 
 read 'most all the afternoon." 
 
 "When he was on his way to our house, 
 Mr. Howard met him and asked him to go with 
 him to see the wreck, but although Tom had 
 been wishing very much to go, he refused be- 
 
Maggie's Plan. 4 1 
 
 cause he thought you would like him to come 
 and read to you. That was self-denial. Mr. 
 Long and Miss Winslow do not like to leave 
 all their friends and their comfortable homes 
 to go out West, but they are willing to do it, 
 that they may teach those poor people who 
 have no one to tell them of Jesus. That is 
 self-denial. And if my Maggie were to take 
 her time to hem towels for tlie sake of the 
 little Western children who have no books, 
 that would be self-deniaL And there was 
 one great self-denial, greater tlian any other 
 the world can ever see. Do you know what 
 that was, my darling ? " 
 
 " When Abraham killed — I mean when he 
 was going to kill Isaac," said Maggie. 
 
 " Well, there was some self-denial in that," 
 said Mrs. Bradford, " but that was not what I 
 meant. It was Abraham's great faith in God 
 which made him willing to obey his word and 
 
42 Bessie in the City, 
 
 sacrifice his only son ; but there was a greater 
 than he, Maggie, who offered a more wonder- 
 ful sacrifice." 
 
 " Mamma," said Bessie, " do you mean when 
 Jesus left his heaven and came to die for 
 us?" 
 
 " Yes, dear ; and when we find it hard to 
 give up our own wishes for the sake of others, 
 let us remember all the dear Saviour has done 
 for us, and that will make the task easier and 
 pleasanter. And the Bible says, 'Inasmuch 
 as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
 these, ye have done it unto me.' That means 
 that when we are working for Jesus' people, 
 or for his little lambs, we are working for 
 him." 
 
 " And two little lambs can help some other 
 little lambs," said Bessie, as if this thought 
 pleased her very much. 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie, drawing a long 
 
Maggie's jPlan. 43 
 
 sigh, " I think I'll have a self-denial and 
 hem those towels. How much money will 
 twelve towels make ? " 
 
 " Twelve towels at five cents apiece will 
 make sixty cents," said Mrs. Bradford; ^' and 
 perhaps by and by you will find some other 
 way to gain money." 
 
 '' May I earn money any way I can, mam- 
 ma ? " asked Maggie. 
 
 " I cannot promise that," said mamma, smil- 
 ing. " You might wish to earn money in some 
 way I might not think proper, even for a good 
 purpose." 
 
 " And what can I do, mamma ? " asked Bes- 
 sie. " I want to work too, and I don't know 
 how to sew." 
 
 " What shall we find for those little hands 
 to do, Maggie ? " said mamma, catching the 
 two tiny hands Bessie held up and patting 
 them softly against her own cheeks. 
 
44 Bessie in the City. 
 
 " Work for those little hands to do ? " said 
 papa, who just then came in and heard the 
 last words. *' I should thinic they were at their 
 proper work now, — petting mamma. Papa 
 would not mind coming in for a share too." 
 
 " And so he shall," said Bessie ; " but pet- 
 ting you and mamma is nice play, not work ; 
 and these little hands want to be useful, 
 papa." 
 
 '' I think they do pretty well for five-year- 
 old hands," said Mr. Bradford, as he sat down 
 and took Bessie on his knee. " They bring 
 papa's slippers and rock baby's cradle, and 
 sometimes I see them trying to help mamma 
 when she is busy. I think we may call them 
 rather useful for hands of their size." 
 
 " But they want to make money, papa." 
 
 " Ho, ho 1 that is it ; is it ? Well, I do not 
 know that they can do much at that business, 
 or that they could hold any great sum if they 
 
Maggie's Plan, 45 
 
 made it. Let us see what they can do in that 
 way ; " and putting his hand into his pocket, 
 Mr. Bradford pulled out a uumber of bright 
 new pennies. " Put out both hands." 
 
 Bessie put her hands together and held 
 them out, while her father couuted the pen- 
 nies into them. 
 
 "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, 
 eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. There, I think 
 that is as much as they can hold at once," said 
 Mr. Bradford. " Is there another pair of lit- 
 tle hands that would like to try if they can 
 do as well ? " 
 
 Maggie was standing at her father's knee 
 with a very eager face, for she knew her turn 
 would come next. 
 
 '' One, two, three," began Mr. Bradford, 
 and counted out fifteen pennies into Maggie's 
 hands. " And now what is to be done with 
 all that money ? " lie asked, looking from ono 
 
46 Bessie i)i the Ctty. 
 
 to another of the bright faces. " It is not to 
 bo wasted, I suppose, since mamma seems to 
 be in the secret." 
 
 " We want to buy a library," said Bessie. 
 
 " A library ? " said Mr. Bradford. '' Well, 
 I'll promise to read every book in any library 
 you may buy for the next ten years." 
 
 " But it is not a big library with stupid books 
 in, like yours, papa," said Maggie ; " but a nice 
 little one with pretty Sunday-school books ; 
 and it is not for ourselves we want it." 
 
 Then papa was told about Mr. Long and 
 Miss Winslow, all of which he knew before, 
 though he listened as though it was quite new 
 to him, and of the plan for tlie library, which 
 he thought a very good one, and of which he 
 had as yet heard nothing. 
 
 "Mamma," said Maggie, "will you take 
 care of our money for us? I know I shall lose 
 some of mine if I keep it myself." 
 
Maggie s Plan. 47 
 
 Mrs. Bradford opened a drawer, and took 
 from it a curious little box. It was made of 
 blocks of red and black wood, and had no 
 cover ; but if a certain block were pressed, out 
 flew a drawer which moved on a spring. This 
 box had been Mrs. Bradford's when she was 
 a child, and Maggie and Bessie thought it a 
 great curiosity. 
 
 " There," said mamma, " put the pennies in 
 this, — fifteen of Maggie's and twelve of Bes- 
 sie's make twenty-seven. Pretty well for a be- 
 ginning. All the money you earn may go in 
 this." 
 
 *' And the glove money too, mamma ? " 
 asked Maggie. 
 
 *' No, not the glove money. I shall keep 
 that, and at the end of each month will givo 
 you what remains to put in the box." 
 
 " And you will keep it, mamma ? " 
 
 "Yes, there it is in the corner of this 
 
48 Bessie in the City. 
 
 drawer. You may come and take it when 
 you want to put anything in it." 
 
 " Papa," said Bessie at dessert that day, 
 " will you please take the fretful off my peach. 
 I can't eat it so." 
 
 Bessie could never bear to eat or even 
 touch a peach unless all the furze or down 
 which grew upon it had been rubbed off, and 
 the restless, uncomfortable feeling it gave her 
 'nade her call it " the fretful." 
 
 Mr. Bradford took a peach from his little 
 girl's plate, and as he rubbed it smooth, said 
 to his wife, " Margaret, my dear, peaches are 
 very plenty and very fine, and I, you know, 
 am very fond of peach preserves." 
 
 '« Yery well," said Mrs. Bradford, " I will 
 put up as many as you choose to send home." 
 
 Bessie heard, and a new thought came into 
 her little head. 
 
 " Mamma," she said a while after, when she 
 
Maggie's Plan, 49 
 
 cculd speak to her mother alone, — ''' mamma, 
 you told papa you would make a great many 
 peach preserves for him." 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " And, mamma, you know he likes the in- 
 side of peach-stones in the preserves." 
 
 " The kernel, you mean." 
 
 " Yes'm, and last summer Harry kept all 
 the peach-stones and cracked them for you, 
 and you paid him for them. Could you let 
 me do it this time ? " 
 
 " My darling, you would crack those little 
 fingers ; it is too hard work for you." 
 
 Bessie looked very much disappointed, and 
 her mother could not hear to see it, for she 
 knew how anxious she was to earn money for 
 the librjiry. 
 
 " You may gather up the peach-stones, dear, 
 and dry them, and Patrick shall crack them 
 4 
 
^O Bessie in the City, 
 
 for you, and I will pay you five cents for every 
 hundred." 
 
 " Oh ! tliank you, mamma ; that is very nice, 
 and I will put away every one I can find." 
 
 And from this day it was quite amusing to 
 their papa and mamma to see how carefully 
 Maggie and Bessie guarded every peach-stone 
 they could find ; and to hear them constantly 
 talking over plans to gain a few pennies to add 
 to their store. 
 
 " Margaret," said Mr. Bradford to his wife 
 that evening, " would it not be better for 
 you to lock up that money-box of the chil- 
 dren ? " 
 
 " I think not," said Mrs. Bradford. " They 
 will want it half a dozen times a day. You 
 know how such little things are, and they will 
 always be counting their money. I believe 
 every one we have in the house is quite 
 honest, and the box cannot well be opened 
 
Maggie's Plan, 5 1 
 
 by one who does not know the secret of the 
 spring." 
 
 So tl\e box was not locked up ; but the time 
 came when Mrs. Bradford was very sorry she 
 had not taken her husband's advice. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE MISER, 
 
 RED," said Harry, as the little sisters 
 came into the breakfast-room the next 
 morning, — ''Fred, what have you done with 
 my new top ? " 
 
 " I declare," said Fred, after thinking a mo- 
 ment, '' I do not know." 
 
 " That's what a fellow gets for lending you 
 his things," saivi Harry, crosslj ; " you never 
 give them back, and never know where you 
 leave them. I sha'n't let you have anything of 
 mine again in a hurry." 
 
 " I know where it is, Harry," said Maggie. 
 " I'll bring it to you. I saw it last night." 
 
 And away ran Maggie, always ready and 
 willing to oblige ; but as she reached the door, 
 
The Miser, 53 
 
 she stood still with the knob in her hand. 
 " Harry, if I go for it, will you give me a 
 penny ? " 
 
 " Well," said Harry, " no, I will not." 
 
 *' If you don't choose to go for it, tell me 
 where it is, and I will go myself," said Fred. 
 
 But Maggie went without another word, and 
 came back with the top in her hand. 
 
 " There's your penny," said Harry, throw- 
 ing one on the table. 
 
 " That's as mean a thing as ever I knew," 
 said Fred, " to want to be paid for going up- 
 stairs for a fellow who has a sprained leg and 
 can't go for himself. You know mamma said 
 he must not go up and down much till his an- 
 kle was well." 
 
 " I'd have thought anybody would have 
 done such a thing sooner than you, Maggie,'* 
 said Harry, reproachfully. 
 
 Maggie stood with crimson cheeks and a 
 
54 Bessie in the City, 
 
 shaking lip. " I sha'n't have the penny ! " she 
 said, angrily. But just then papa and mamma 
 came in and the bell was rung for morning 
 prayers, which prevented any farther quarrel- 
 ling. 
 
 But Maggie's troubles were not yet at an end 
 for that morning. Breakfast was over, mam- 
 ma gone to the nursery, papa to his library, 
 and the children were alone in the breakfast- 
 room. 
 
 *' Midget," said Harry, " you know that 
 pink fluted shell of yours ? " 
 
 ^* Yes," answered Maggie. 
 
 *' If you'll give it to me, I'll give you any 
 two of mine you may choose." 
 
 " Oh, Harry, I can't ! Aunt Annie gave 
 me that shell, and I want to keep it for 
 memory of her. Besides, it's my prettiest 
 shell." 
 
 " Aunt Annie isn't dead," said Harry. 
 
The Miser. 55 
 
 " You don't keep a thing in memory of a per- 
 son unless they're dead." 
 
 *' She'll die one of these days," said Maggie ; 
 *' every one has to die sometime, and I'll keep 
 it till then. But I meant I wanted it because 
 she gave it to me, Harry, and I can't let you 
 liave it." But presently, having forgotten 
 about the penny, and thinking of the library 
 box, Maggie added, " I'll give it to you for ten 
 cents, Harry." 
 
 " Indeed, I shall not give ten cents for it! " 
 said Harry. " It's not worth it and — why, 
 Mag, you are growing as mean as, — as mean 
 as — " Harry stopped, for he saw Maggie's 
 color rising and tlie tears coming in her eyes, 
 and he was not an unkind boy, who would 
 willingly hurt or grieve his little sisters. 
 
 " She is a real miser," said Fred. 
 
 Poor Maggie ! this was too much, and she 
 burst into tears. 
 
5^ Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Don't cry, Maggie," said Harry. " I did 
 not mean to hurt you, but I do not know 
 wliat to make of you." 
 
 " What's all tliis wonderful fuss about mon- 
 ey, Bessie ? " asked Fred. 
 
 " Ask me no lies^ and I'll tell you no ques- 
 tions^'' said Bessie, holding up her head and 
 looking at her brothers with a grave, reprov- 
 ing air, " You talk very unproperly to my 
 Macrfirie." 
 
 CO 
 
 At this, the boys shouted and laughed so 
 loud and so long that Bessie felt as badly as 
 her sister, and saying, " Let's go away, Mag- 
 gie," they ran off. 
 
 When Mr. Bradford came out of his room^ 
 he saw his little girls sitting at the head of the 
 stairs looking very unhappy. Maggie had been 
 crying ; Bessie had her arm around her waist, 
 as though she were trying to comfort her, but 
 looked as if she wanted comfort herself. 
 
The Miser, 57 
 
 " Why, what ails my singing birdies this 
 morning ? " asked papa. " In trouble so early 
 in the day ? " 
 
 " Papa," said Bessie, in a grieved little 
 voice, " we are having very misable times to- 
 day." 
 
 "- That is bad," said Mr. Bradford, sitting 
 down on the stairs beside them ; " but tell pa- 
 pa what it is, and see if he cannot help you 
 into pleasanter times." 
 
 " People say things to us," said Bessie. 
 
 " And do you not wish people to speak to 
 you?" 
 
 '' Oh, yes, papa, if they say nice things ; but 
 first, nurse called our shells and sea-weed, 
 ' truck. ' " 
 
 " Very poor taste in nurse," said Mr. Brad- 
 ford ; " but I would not fret about that. Is 
 there anything more ? " 
 
58 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Yes, papa," — Bessie hesitated, — " but I 
 do not like to tell tales." 
 
 " But I want to know what the trouble is, 
 1 shall not think jou are telling tales when I 
 ask you." 
 
 " HaiTj called me ' mean,' and Fred said I 
 was ' a miser,' " said Maggie, beginning to cry 
 again. " And I wouldn't be such an ugly 
 thing, now ! " 
 
 " What is a miser, Maggie ? " asked papa. 
 
 *' An ugly old man, who makes believe he 
 hasn't any money, when he has a whole lot in 
 bags in a chest, and doesn't eat anything but 
 crusts, with an ugly, thin cat who hunches up 
 her back," said Maggie. 
 
 Maggie's idea of a miser was taken from a 
 picture she had once seen. 
 
 " Then my rosebud does not look much 
 like a miser," answered Mr. Bradford, patting 
 Maggie's round, smooth cheek. 
 
The Miser. 50 
 
 " But he meant I was like a miser, and they 
 laughed at Bessie," said Maggie. 
 
 " But I quarrelled and said a cross thing to 
 them, papa," said Bessie, who was always 
 ready to own when she had done wrong. 
 
 ^' What did you say ? " 
 
 Bessie repeated what slie had said to the 
 boys, making the same mistake she liad done 
 before, and her father could not wonder that 
 they had laughed. He asked a question or 
 two more, and soon knew the whole story of 
 the penny and the shell. 
 
 "And it is very hard to have people say 
 such things when it is a good purpose, papa," 
 said Maggie, wiping her eyes as she finished. 
 
 '' So it is, Maggie ; but it is what we must 
 all look for, more or less in this world. When 
 we are trying to do good, other people will 
 sometimes misunderstand us, tliink that we 
 are doing the wrong thing, or perhaps doing 
 
Co Bessie in the City. 
 
 the riglit thing in the wrong way ; and they 
 may tell us so, or make unkind remarks about 
 us. Bat if we feel that we are doing right, 
 and know that we are about the dear Saviour's 
 work, we should not mind that. Yes, and we 
 must bear to be laughed at too, my Bessie. 
 I do not think though that your brothers have 
 meant to grieve you so much. Fred, I know, 
 will sometimes tease, but Harry is not apt to 
 be unkind or provoking." 
 
 " No, papa," said Maggie. " Harry is a 
 very good, kind brother." 
 
 " So I think," said papa. " Do the boys 
 know why you are so anxious to earn 
 money ? " ^ 
 
 " No, papa. I did not tell them, 'cause I 
 thought maybe they would laugh at me." 
 
 '' They shall not laugli at you, I will 
 answer for that. But, although they were 
 not very polite or kind in their way of telling 
 
The Miser. 6x 
 
 you so, you can scarcely wonder tliat your 
 brothers were surprised at your wish to be 
 paid for any little favor you might do them. 
 You are generally so obliging and willing, 
 so ready to run and to do for the pleasure 
 of helping others, that I myself might have 
 thought you selfish and disobliging, had I 
 heard you asking for pay without knowing 
 your reason. And I would not do so again, 
 dearie. Whatever you may be able to save by 
 denying or taking any pains with yourselves, 
 or may make by doing any little extra work 
 for mamma or any one else, well and good ; 
 but I would not ask to be paid for such small 
 things as you are in the habit of doing every 
 day for those around you. You must not be 
 too eager to gain money for any purpose." 
 
 " Not for a good one, papa ? " 
 
 " No. Never do wrong that good may come 
 of it." 
 
62 Bessie in the City. 
 
 " Do yoii think I was like a miser this 
 morning, papa ? " 
 
 "No. I do not thinic Fred quite under- 
 stood the meaning of the word himself when 
 he used it in that way. To be miserly, or like 
 a miser, is to try to save and put by money 
 only that we may look at it, and count it 
 over, taking pleasure in the thought that we 
 have it, not in using it for our good or pleas- 
 ure, or that of others. Do you understand 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, papa. You mean if Bessie and I 
 were to put all our money into that box of 
 mamma's, and just count it and count it, and 
 never take any out, or spend it for the library 
 or anything else, we would be little misers 
 even if we are not old men ? " 
 
 " Papa," said Bessie, " yesterday morning 
 at prayers, you yead about the lord who went 
 away and gave his servants money to take 
 
The Miser. 63 
 
 care of, and how one of them put his money 
 ill a napkin, and dug a hole in the ground 
 and hid it there ; and when his lord came 
 home, he was angry with him, and punished 
 him. Was that man a miser ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, I think we may call him a 
 miser ; and I am glad my little girl remem- 
 bers so well. We may be miserly with other 
 things than money. If we do not use any of 
 the gifts which God has given us as he in- 
 tended we should do, for our own good and 
 that of others, we are misers ; and it is as 
 wrong to do so as it would be to waste them, 
 or throw them away. Suppose you were to 
 say, ' These are very small hands and feet 
 which God has given to me ; they are not 
 nearly as large as papa's or mamma's, or even 
 as strong as my brothers ; they cannot do much 
 work, so they shall do none at all ; I will not 
 run up and down stairs, or go little errands ; 
 
64 Bessie in the City, 
 
 I will not rock the baby, or amuse Fraiikj, 
 or do any other thing which might save my 
 mamma some trouble ; I will not even play 
 about, or go out to walk, but just sit still and 
 do nothing all day long. Or, this is a very 
 young mind of mine, it knows very little, and 
 cannot understand everything, so I shall not 
 try to learn and add more knowledge to that 
 which I have. I cannot do much for the 
 praise and glory of God who made me and gave 
 me every good thing I have, so I shall not try 
 to please him at all. I will take and keep all 
 he gives me, but 1 will not use it or enjoy it, 
 nor let others do so.' This would be like the 
 poor foolish man who buried his talent, in- 
 stead of making use of it for his lord. It 
 would be like a miser." 
 
 " But, papa," said Maggie, " I don't think 
 I could be a miser with my hands and feet. 
 Why, I would think it was dreadful to sit 
 
The Miser. 65 
 
 still all day and do nothing. They will move 
 sometimes even when I don't mean them to : 
 and if I want them to keep still, they seem to 
 forget and just move of themselves." 
 
 Mr. Bradford smiled as he remembered how 
 true Maggie's words were. It did indeed 
 seem impossible for those restless little hands 
 and feet to keep still ; they must always be 
 busy about something, and he knew that she 
 could scarcely have a greater punishment than 
 to be forced to sit quiet for ten or fifteen 
 minutes at a time. 
 
 " Papa must take his hands and feet away 
 now," he said, " or they will be late at the 
 office. The hands and the head, too, have a 
 good deal to do to-day if they are to feel at 
 liberty to go to Riverside to-morrow ; so kiss 
 me for good-by." 
 
 Mr. Bradford stopped in the breakfast-room, 
 where the boys still were, and telling them 
 5 
 
66 Bessie in the Ctty. 
 
 of what their sisters were trying to do, and 
 how earnest they were about it, said he hoped 
 they would neither tease nor laugh at them, 
 but would do all in their power to help them. 
 
 Harry and Fred were really sorry when 
 they heard how distressed the little girls had 
 been, and promised to do nothing more to 
 trouble them. 
 
 " I cannot quite promise not to laugh at 
 Bessie, papa," said Harry. "■ She says such 
 droll things in such a droll way, or twists 
 something about, and comes out with it with 
 such a grand air for such a mite of a 
 thing as she is, that a fellow can't help 
 laughing.'' 
 
 " The greater the difficulty, the greater the 
 kindness to your little sister, my son. I know 
 it is hard, sometimes almost impossible, to 
 help smiling, or even laughing outright, at 
 some of Bessie's speeches ; but you may 
 
The Miser, 67 
 
 avoid doing so in a loud, boisterous, mocking 
 way. Put yourselves in her place, boys, and 
 thiiik how you would like it." 
 
 " I'm sure I do not mind being laughed at, 
 papa ; at least, not much," said Harry. 
 
 '' No," said Fred, " that he don't ; so he 
 never is laughed at. The other fellows say 
 it's no fun teasing him, he's so cool about it." 
 
 " But Bessie does mind it," said his father, 
 " and so does Maggie ; and we are not to 
 judge that a thing is right and kind because 
 it is not disagreeable to ourselves. You know 
 your Aunt Annie is exceedingly afraid of a 
 mouse." 
 
 " Indeed, she is," said Fred. " She'll squeal 
 and jump on a chair, and turn as white as a 
 sheet, if she only suspects there is one in the 
 room." 
 
 " It is real honest fear, too," said Harry, 
 '* no make believe about it. I am real sorry 
 
68 Bessie m the City* 
 
 for her, too; it must make her so uncom- 
 fortable." 
 
 " Yes," said his father. " She was fright- 
 ened by one when a child, and cannot over- 
 come her fear of them. Now I am not in the 
 least afraid of mice ; indeed, if they were not 
 so mischievous, I should enjoy seeing them 
 play about the house ; but would you not 
 think me cruel and unfeeling if I were to allow 
 a mouse to be in the room with Annie, while I 
 either amused myself with her fears or was 
 quite careless of them ? Would you think I 
 was doing as I would be done by ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said both the boys. 
 
 " Then you see the golden rule teaches us 
 not only to avoid doing those things to others 
 which are painful to ourselves, but also to put 
 ourselves in their places, and to say, ' How 
 should I wish to be done by if I felt as they do ? ' 
 There, I have given two little lessons this 
 
The Miser. O9 
 
 morning, — one to my girls, and one to my 
 boys, — and shall have to read a third to my 
 self on the meaning of the word punctual if 1 
 do not hurry away. Good-by to you." 
 
 As soon as their father had left them, 
 Maggie and Bessie ran away to mamma's 
 room. Maggie, always eager for anything new, 
 begged that she might have one of her towels 
 to begin to hem it at once. But mamma said 
 it was time for their walk, and they must go 
 out first. They found not only Mr. Hall, but 
 also their friend, Colonel Rush, in the park, 
 and Bessie introduced them to each other, say- 
 ing, gravely, " Mr. Hall, please to know Colonel 
 Yush; Colonel Yush, please to know Mr. Hall." 
 
 The two gentlemen smiled, shook hands 
 heartily, and certainly seemed well pleased to 
 know each other. Perhaps it was partly be- 
 cause they were both so fond of the dear little 
 girls who stood beside them. 
 
70 Bessie in the City, 
 
 When the children went home, mamma had 
 a towel neatly folded and begun for Maggie. 
 She sat down at once, sewing away in a great 
 hurry, and saying to Bessie that she was going 
 to finish it that day. Presently mamma, 
 seeing that she was moving along the hem 
 pretty fast, came and looked at her work. 
 
 " Oh, Maggie, Maggie! " she said, " this will 
 not do, my dear child. Such long, crooked 
 stitches ! Why, you can sew much better than 
 this." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, but then I am in such a 
 hurry to finish it." 
 
 " But you must not be in such a hurry, 
 dear, that you cannot take time to do it 
 neatly. Suppose, when the towel is done, I 
 were to hand you three cents and say, 'I am in 
 such a hurry, Maggie, I shall only give you 
 three cents.' Would you think that quite 
 fair ? " 
 
The Miser, 71 
 
 Maggie laughed. " No, indeed, mamma ; 
 but you would not do such a thing." 
 
 " I hope not ; and when you come to think 
 about it, I am sure you will see that it is not 
 fair for you to do my work poorly if I am to 
 pay you for it." 
 
 ^' Must it all come out, mamma ? " asked 
 Maggie, as her mother took the work from 
 her hand. 
 
 " I am afraid so, dear. See there, those 
 stitches would not hold at all. I think we 
 will take half of one side of a towel for each 
 day's task. That will finish them in time, 
 and you will soon tire of the work if you try 
 to hurry through it in this way." 
 
 " Mamma," said Bessie, as her mother 
 Landed back the totvei to Maggie to make a 
 fresh beginning, " could not I learn to sew ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think you are old enough to begin, 
 if you will be patient." 
 
73 Bessie in the City, 
 
 *' Oh, yes, mamma, I will be patient to 
 learn, if you will be patient to teach me." 
 
 There was not much doubt about that, so 
 the dear kind mother found a little piece of 
 work and fixed it for Bessie. But she had no 
 thimble of her own, and for that day had to 
 use an old one of Maggie's with a piece of 
 paper wrapped round her finger to make it 
 stay in its place. Mamma promised to buy 
 her one that very day, and after this, whenever 
 Maggie hemmed her towels, Bessie would sit 
 beside her learning to put in stiches that grew 
 neater and neater every day. 
 
IV. 
 
 FLOSS r. 
 
 UNT HELEN! Aunt Helen!" said 
 Maggie, almost as soon as they reached 
 Riverside the next day, " may we run down 
 in the garden and find Donald ? " 
 
 Donald was the old Scotch gardener who 
 lived at Riverside. He had been there for a 
 great many years, long before Maggie and 
 Bessie were born, long enougli, as Maggie 
 said, " to learn to talk American," if he had 
 cliosen to do so. But Donald loved the dear 
 old Scotch brogue which reminded him oi 
 his fatherland so far away, and was at nc 
 pains to drop it ; and our little girls liked liim 
 none the less that they sometimes found it 
 
74 Bessie in the City, 
 
 hard work to understand' him. And they 
 had good reason to like him, for he was glad 
 to see them when they came to Riverside, and 
 tried all he could to make their visits pleas- 
 ant to them. They were in a great hurry to 
 find him this morning, and could scarcely rest 
 till they had permission to do so. 
 
 " Well, well," said Grandpapa Duncan, 
 " this is a nice thing. Have you grown so 
 fond of Donald since you have been away that 
 you have hardly time to speak to me before 
 you run away to see him ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, grandpapa," said Maggie, " we 
 like Donald very much, but you know we like 
 you a great deal more ; but you see we are so 
 anxious about the puppy." 
 
 " Oh, ho ! then it is the puppy you like 
 better than me ? I do not see that that mends 
 the matter." 
 
 " Now, grandpapa ! " said Maggie. 
 
Flossy. 75 
 
 " Couldn't you come with us, grandpapa ? " 
 asked Bessie, coaxinglj. 
 
 " Yes, do," said Maggie, " it's such a nice, 
 pleasant day. It will do you good." 
 
 *' And it will do us good to have you," said 
 Bessie. 
 
 Grandpapa was very much pleased, but 
 though there was a smile on his lips and in 
 his eye, he wrinkled up his brow and pre- 
 tended to think it was very hard he should be 
 asked to go out. Perhaps he wanted to be 
 coaxed a little more. 
 
 *'I have no hat or cane here," he said, 
 gruffly. 
 
 Away ran Maggie and Bessie into the hall, 
 and presently came back, the one with grand- 
 papa's hat, the other with his cane. Maggie 
 climbed on his chair and put his hat on liis 
 head, pretty well down over his nose too^ 
 while Bessie placed the cane in his hand. 
 
76 Bessie in the City, 
 
 "Now you are all ready," said Maggie. 
 
 " But I have a boue in my knee ; how am I 
 to get up ? " said grandpapa. 
 
 Maggie took hold of one hand and Bessie 
 of the other, and after a great deal of pulling, 
 with some pretended scolding and grumbling 
 from grandpapa, he was upon his feet. 
 
 "A nice thing, to be sure," said the old gen- 
 tleman, " for two little city damsels to come 
 out here to my quiet country home, to pull me 
 out of my comfortable easy-chair and trot me 
 around after puppy dogs and other nonsense ! " 
 and he frowned harder than ever, shaking his 
 cane fiercely at the laughing children, who 
 knew very well that this was only fun, and 
 that lie was really glad to go with them. They 
 thought it a fine joke, and went skipping mer- 
 rily along, one on each side of him. They 
 had gone but a few steps from the house, when 
 Bessie stood still, exclaiming, — 
 
Flossy. 77 
 
 " Oh, how pretty, how pretty ! Look, grand 
 papa ! look, Maggie ! " 
 
 It was indeed a pretty sight that she saw. 
 Just in front of them stood two tall trees 
 which grew straight vipwards for some dis- 
 tance and then leaned a little towards each 
 other, so that at the top their branches wove 
 themselves together, making an arch. Over 
 each tree ran a Virginia creeper, or grass 
 vine, winding round and round the trunks, 
 spreading over the branches, and when they 
 could hnd nothing more to cling to, throwing 
 out long sprays and tendrils, which waved 
 gracefully about in the gentle breeze coming 
 up from the river. Although it was only the 
 middle of September, there had been several 
 cool, frosty nights, and the leaves of the vine 
 were already of a bright crimson. The trees 
 were still quite green, and the contrast be- 
 
78 Bessie in the City. 
 
 tween their color and the red of the vine was 
 very beautiful. 
 
 " Oh, who did it, grandpapa ? " said Bessie. 
 " Who painted those leaves ? Did Donald ? " 
 
 " No, darling, no hand of man could paint 
 that. This is the Lord's doing, and it is in- 
 deed marvellous in our eyes." 
 
 " Do you mean our Father in heaven did it, 
 grandpapa ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, it was the great and loving Fa- 
 ther, who has not only made his earth to bring 
 forth food and drink for all his creatures, but 
 has also made it so beautiful that it may 
 please and delight our eyes." 
 
 " But," said Maggie, in great astonishment, 
 " that vine used to be all green just like the 
 tree. How did it come red ? " 
 
 " I will tell you," said grandpapa. " Do 
 you know what the sap is ? " 
 
 i< \r, 
 
 No, sir." 
 
Flossy. 79 
 
 Air. Duncan looked around him, and then, 
 taking his knife from his pocket, cut a slip 
 from a tall plant which grew near. He pressed 
 it with his thumb and finger, and a small 
 whitish drop oozed slowly out from the end 
 which had been cut. 
 
 " See there," he said, " that is the sap or 
 juice of the plant. It is in every tree or bush, 
 and goes running through the trunk, branches, 
 and leaves much as the blood runs through the 
 veins in your body. All through the summer 
 it keeps the branches moist and the leaves 
 fresh and green ; but it does not like the cold, 
 and when the frost comes, it runs away from 
 the leaves. Then they begin to turn, some 
 red, some yellow, some brown. Our pretty 
 creepers here are among the first to feel the 
 cold ; and they turn sooner than the trees 
 over which they grow. As the weather be- 
 comes colder, the sap goes farther and farther 
 
So Bessie in the City, 
 
 away, back through the branches and down 
 through the trunk till it reaches the roots, 
 where it lies snug and close in its winter home 
 under the warm earth. Then the leaves 
 shrivel up and lose their bright colors and fall 
 to the ground. If you break a branch from a 
 tree in winter, it will snap more easily than it 
 will in the summer, because it is dry and brit- 
 tle from the loss of its sap. All through the 
 col\i weather the sap keeps hidden quietly 
 away in the roots ; but in the spring when the 
 air grows mild and pleasant, it begins to stir 
 and move upward again. Up, up it goes 
 through the trunk and branches, till, as the 
 weather grows warmer and warmer, the little 
 buds which hold the young leaves and blos- 
 soms begin to show themselves, and at last 
 unfold. Then the small tender leaves peep 
 out and gather strength and life from the soft 
 air and bright sunshine and gentle rain, till 
 
J^lossy, 8l 
 
 the trees and bushes are covered with their 
 beautiful green dress and make a pleasant 
 shade for my Maggie and Bessie when they 
 come out to see their old grandpapa at Eiver- 
 side." 
 
 " And give us pretty flowers to smell and 
 look at, and nice fruit to eat,'' said Bessie. 
 
 '' Yes, and see how our Father thinks of 
 us and cares for our comfort at every season. 
 If we had not this pleasant shade in the sum- 
 mer, with the soft green for our eyes to rest 
 upon, w^e could scarcely bear the heat and 
 light of the sun. But in the winter we need 
 all the heat and light we can have ; and then, 
 the leaves drop away and let the rays of the 
 sun fall upon the earth to warm and cheer 
 us." 
 
 While grandpapa was talking, they had 
 been walking on ; and now, as they turned 
 a corner, they saw Donald. He was tying 
 
82 Bessie in the City, 
 
 up some dahlias. The little girls ran for- 
 ward. 
 
 " How do jou do, Donald ? " said Bessie. 
 
 " How is the puppy, Donald ? " asked Mag- 
 gie. 
 
 " And how's yersel'," said Donald. " Eh, 
 but I'm blithe to see ye aince mair." 
 
 *' We're well," said Bessie, " and I can yun 
 about now, and my feet don't get so tired as 
 they used to." 
 
 " That's gude news," said Donald ; " an* 
 noo ye'll be wantin' the wee doggie hame wi' 
 ye. Weel, he's big eneuch; and I think ye 
 may tak' him if yer mither's willin'." 
 
 The children understood enough of what 
 Donald was saying to know that he meant 
 they could take the puppy home if tlieir 
 mother would not object; and Maggie hast- 
 ened to say, " Oh, yes ! mamma will let us 
 have him ; she quite expects us to take him 
 
Bessie in City. 
 
Flossy, S;^ 
 
 home, Donald. Could you let us see him 
 now ? " 
 
 Donald was quite ready, and they all went 
 over to his cottage, where the first thing they 
 saw was Flossy himself, playing on the grass 
 with his two puppy brothers. They all came 
 running up to Donald, as if they were glad to 
 see him, and then went snuffing and smell- 
 ing about the feet of the children, as if they 
 wanted to find out who these little strangers 
 could be. 
 
 In five minutes they were all the best of 
 friends, and Maggie and Bessie were seated 
 upon the grass with the three little dogs jump- 
 ing, capering, and tumbling about them and over 
 them. Such a frolic as they had, and how the 
 children laughed, and how the puppies barked 
 and yelped and frisked about, while it was 
 bard to say who enjoyed it most, the little 
 girls and the dogs, or grandpapa, Donald, and 
 
84 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Alice, who watched them from the cottage 
 steps. 
 
 The puppies were all pretty, but Flossy 
 was certainly the prettiest of the three. He 
 was beautifully marked in brown and white, 
 and his coat was already becoming long, 
 silken, and glossy. He was also the most 
 playful and mischievous ; and grandpapa told 
 Maggie and Bessie he thought they would 
 have their hands full to keep him out of 
 harm. Once, in the midst of tlieir play, 
 Maggie's hat fell off, and in an instant 
 Flossy had pounced upon it, and, when Mag- 
 gie tried to take it from him, ran away, 
 dragging it after him. Round and round 
 the house he tore, and they had quite a race 
 to get it from him. At last Donald caught 
 him and took the hat from him ; but, alas ! it 
 was none the better for its rough journey over 
 the gravel walks. He was next at his own 
 
Flossy. 85 
 
 finery. Alice, Donald's wife, had tied about 
 his neck the red ribbon which she kept to 
 dress him with when his little mistresses came 
 10 Riverside, but his brothers seemed to think 
 he had no right to be finer than they were, 
 and were all the time pulling and snapping at 
 the ribbon, till at last it came untied. But 
 Flossy had no idea of letting another puppy 
 have that which belonged to himself, and pretty 
 quickly snatched it from them. Off he went 
 again before the children could stop him, and 
 running down in the cellar and behind some 
 barrels, soon had the ribbon torn to bits. 
 Alice was quite vexed when at last she pulled 
 him from his hiding-place, and found the 
 ribbon entirely destroyed ; but the children 
 thought him very smart, and did not see why 
 he should not have his fun. 
 
 " Eh, but you're an ill beastie ! " said 
 Alice, giving Flossy a cuff on the ear. 
 
86 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Bessie's little tender heart was quite grieved. 
 " Alice," she said, " I was 'fraid niaybe you'd 
 be sorry when we took Flossy away ; but I 
 guess you don't care much ; do you ? " 
 
 " Na, na ! " said Alice. " I canna be fashed 
 wi' the three o' them, an' this ane's the warst 
 o' them a'. He's aye in mischief. Didna he 
 lick a' the cream for my mon's breakfast ? " 
 
 Scarce a word did the children understand, 
 except that Flossy had drank the cream 
 meant for Donald's breakfast, and that Alice 
 was rather pleased to be rid of him. 
 
 " Perhaps he don't know any better," said 
 Bessie. " He'll have to be teached." 
 
 " 'Deed does he," said Alice, as if she were 
 glad she was no longer to have the teaching 
 of him. 
 
 " Grandpapa," said Maggie, " may we take 
 Flossy up to the house now, so that he may 
 be used to us before we go home ? " 
 
Flossy. 87 
 
 Grandpapa said tbej might, and Maggie 
 told Bessie that she should carry him. 
 
 "I'll only carry him half the way," said 
 Bessie, " and you can carry him the yest." 
 
 But Flossy had no mind to be carried at 
 all. He liked to frisk about on his own four 
 feet, and was quite ready to run after his 
 little mistresses. Indeed, the puppies were all 
 so well pleased with their new playmates that 
 the other two wished to go also, and Donald 
 had to shut them up to prevent them from 
 following. 
 
 Grandpapa said they would not go directly 
 home, but through the orchard, and so down 
 to the river bank. In the orchard the men 
 were picking the early apples and packing 
 them in barrels, and grandpapa, going to one 
 of them, chose two large rosy-cheeked apples 
 and gave one to Maggie and one to Bessie. 
 
88 Bessie in the City, 
 
 They stood a while watching the men, and then 
 turned to go on. 
 
 Between the orchard and the river lay a 
 broad green field, and in this field several 
 cows and a large flock of sheep were feeding. 
 Now Bessie, although she was not a timid 
 child about many things, was afraid of cattle ; 
 and as Mr. Duncan opened the gate into the 
 field, she drew back. 
 
 " Grandpa," she said, " bettern't we go the 
 other way ? " 
 
 " I think not," said grandpapa. '' This 
 way is the pleasantest, and I have something 
 to show you down by the water." 
 
 " But if we should be bucked, what would 
 our mamma say ? " asked the little girl, still 
 looking timidly at the cows. 
 
 '' We shall not be bucked, dear," said grand- 
 papa, smiling. "Does my Bessie think I 
 
Flossy. 89 
 
 would take her or Maggie where there was 
 danger ? " 
 
 " No, grandpapa, but — " Bessie still hung 
 back. 
 
 " You shall not go this way, dear, if you 
 do not wish ; but these are our cows, and 1 
 know them to be all peaceable and good-tem- 
 pered. But if we turn back and go through 
 the garden again, 1 shall be too tired to take 
 you down to the river." 
 
 " I think we'll go this way," said Bessie, 
 and so they went on ; but as they passed the 
 cows, grandpapa felt the little hand he held 
 nestle itself very tightly in his own, and as 
 he saw how her color came and went, he was 
 sorry he had not turned back. The cows did 
 not notice them at all, not even when Flossy, 
 who seemed to think it would be a very fine 
 thing to bark at something so much larger 
 than himself, ran up to one and began woof 
 
90 Bessie in the City. 
 
 woofing in a very absurd manner. The cow 
 just lifted up her head and looked at him for 
 a moment ; then, as if she well knew that 
 such a tiny thing could do her no harm, put 
 it down and began to eat again. 
 
 '' Isn't it er-dic-u-lous, grandpapa," said 
 Maggie, " to see Flossy barking at that great 
 cow V " 
 
 ^' Rather ridiculous," answered grandpapa. 
 " Look at those little lambs, Bessie." 
 
 Bessie quite forgot the cows when she saw 
 the lambs playing by the side of their moth- 
 ers. But when Flossy found the cattle cared 
 nothing for him, he thought he would try to 
 make a little fuss here, and away he ran after 
 one of the lambs. The sheep did not take it 
 as quietly as the cows ; the lamb was fright- 
 ened, and the mother, who did not understand 
 that this was Flossy's fun, and that he could 
 not have hurt her child even if he had wished 
 
Flossy. 91 
 
 to, put it behind her, and lowering her head, 
 stamped her foot at Flossy as if she were very 
 angry. Mr. Duncan called the puppy away, 
 but he would not mind, and Maggie ran to 
 take him up in her arms. The poor sheep 
 saw her and thought- here was something else 
 coming to hurt her baby, so she must fight a 
 little herself. She ran at Maggie, and butting 
 her head against the little girl, threw her over 
 upon the grass. The other sheep had stood 
 looking on ; but now, as if afraid of being 
 punished for what one of their number had 
 done, the wiiole flock turned and scampered 
 away to the opposite side of the field. 
 
 Maggie sat up upon the grass. She was 
 not at all hurt, but rather frightened and very 
 much astonished. 
 
 *' Are you hurt, little woman?" asked grand- 
 papa, as he lifted her up and placed her upon 
 her feet 
 
92 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " No, grandpapa, but — who did it ? " 
 
 " Who did it ? Why, the mothei sheep 
 there.'' 
 
 " She is very ungrateful," said Maggie, in- 
 dignantly. " I came to help her, and she 
 oughtn't to do it." 
 
 " She did not know that, dear," said grand- 
 papa. " She thought you, too, were coming to 
 hurt her lamb, and she could not tell what 
 else to do. See there, Bessie, the cows which 
 you were so afraid of did not even look 
 at us, while this meek, timid sheep, of which 
 you had not the least fear, has knocked 
 over Maggie. Do not look so distressed, 
 dear ; Maggie is not hurt at all." 
 
 It was some time before Bessie could quite 
 believe this. It seemed to her scarcely possible 
 that her dear Maggie should have been thrown 
 down in such a rude fashion, and yet not be 
 hurt. But so it was ; not a scratch nor a bruise 
 
Flossy, 93 
 
 was to be found. The ground was not very 
 hard just here, and the grass quite soft and 
 long ; and beyond the fright and a streak or 
 two of earth on her white dress, Maggie had 
 received no harm from her fall. It made 
 her feel rather sober, however, and she walked 
 quietly along by grandpapa's side without 
 skipping and jumping as she had done before. 
 
 " Grandpapa," said Bessie, " don't you think 
 the sheep ought to know better ? " 
 
 " Well, Bessie, I think we must not blame 
 the poor creature. She did not know that 
 Maggie was her friend, and Flossy had fright- 
 ened her and made her angry. If she had 
 been alone, she would probably have run 
 away ; but she loved her child better than she 
 did herself, and took the best way she knew 
 to keep it from harm." 
 
 *' You are very naughty. Flossy," said 
 Bessie. " You did a deal of misfit, Ycu 
 
94 Bessie ill the City, 
 
 — .^s-s^^^^ — 
 
 frightened the poor little lambie, and made 
 my Maggie be knocked down." 
 
 *' Yes," said Maggie, " he'll have to be 
 taught, ' to do to others.' Poor little fellow ! 
 He don't know much himself." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Duncan, " like all young 
 things, he has much to learn, and his teachers 
 must have a good deal of patience." 
 
 ^' Grandpapa," said Bessie, " are not lambs 
 pretty good baby animals ? " 
 
 " I rather think they are, Bessie. Perhaps 
 their mammas sometimes find them trouble- 
 some ; but we seldom or never hear of a lamb 
 getting into mischief or naughty ways. So 
 when a child is obedient and gentle, we say it 
 is like a little lamb." 
 
 " Mamma taught us such a pretty hymn 
 last week about a lamb," said Bessie. 
 
 " Can't you let me hear it ? " said grandpapa. 
 
 So Bessie repeated these verses : — 
 
JFlossy, Q5 
 
 ** Little lamb, who made thee ? 
 
 Dost thou know who made thee ? 
 Gave thee life, and gave thee feed. 
 By the stream, and o'er the mead ; 
 Gave thee clothing of delight, — 
 Softest clothing, woolly, bright ; 
 Gave thee such a tender voice, 
 Making all the vales rejoice. 
 
 Little lamb, who made thee ? 
 
 Dost thou know who made thee 1 
 
 " Little lamb, 1^1 tell thee ! 
 
 Little lamb, I'll tell thee ! 
 He is called by thy name. 
 For He calls Himself a lamb. 
 He is meek, and He is mild, 
 He became a little child. 
 I, a child, and thou, a lamb. 
 We are called by His name. 
 
 Little lamb, God bless thee ! 
 
 Little lamb, God bless thee ! "* 
 
 She said them slowly and carefully, not 
 missing one word, and grandpapa was much 
 pleased. 
 
 *' That is indeed pretty, my darling," he 
 
 * William Blake. 
 
96' Bessie in the City. 
 
 said, " and grandpapa is much obliged to you. 
 What a dear, good mamma you have, always 
 teaching you something useful or pretty." 
 
 '• Oh, yes I " said Bessie, " she is just the 
 most precious mamma that ever lived." 
 
 Grandpapa looked down as if he thought 
 the dear mamma's little daughter was rather 
 precious, too ; but he did not say so. 
 
 " I never saw such a good helper as our 
 mamma," said Maggie. *' She always can tell 
 us how to do things." 
 
 Then Maggie told how mamma was helping 
 them to buy the library, and of all their little 
 plans. Grandpapa listened, and seemed very 
 much interested ; and by the time the story 
 was finished, they had reached the river. 
 
 Mr. Duncan led them through a grove of 
 locust-trees, and just beyond was the pretty 
 sight he had brought them to look at. This was 
 a pond into which the water flowed by a narrow 
 
Flossy, 97 
 
 canal cut from the river. Upon it were float- 
 ing two beautiful white swans. The children 
 had never seen them before, for the pond had 
 been made, and the swans brought there, 
 since their last visit to Riverside. Over the 
 canal was a pretty rustic bridge, and below it 
 a wire fence, which allowed the water to flow 
 in, but through which the swans could not 
 pass. On the other side of the pond was a 
 little house, made, like the bridge, of boughs 
 twisted together. 
 
 *' Oh, grandpapa," said Maggie, '' what beau- 
 tiful birds ! How did they come there ? And 
 that water, too ? It did not use to be there." 
 
 *' No," said Mr. Duncan. '' The pond was 
 made this summer, while you were at Quam 
 Beach. Those birds are swans." 
 
 " And is that their little house ? " asked 
 Bessie. 
 
 " Yes," said grandpapa ; and then taking 
 
98 Bessie in the City, 
 
 fi'om his pocket a couple of crackers which he 
 had brought for the purpose, he gave one to 
 each of tlie children, and told them they 
 might feed the swans. The birds were not at 
 all afraid of the little girls, and came swim- 
 ming up to where thej stood, arching their 
 graceful necks as if they quite expected to 
 receive something nice to eat. Indeed, they 
 were so tame that when the crackers were 
 broken up, they took pieces from the chil- 
 dren's hands as if they had known them all 
 their lives. Maggie and Bessie were delighted, 
 and Maggie thought she would like to stay by 
 the pond all day ; but now Mr. Duncan said it 
 was time to go back to the house, so they bade 
 good-by to the swans. 
 
 By this time Flossy was tired, and was 
 quite willing to let Maggie take him up in her 
 arms and carry him. Before they readied 
 home he was asleep, and Maggie laid him in a 
 
Flossy, 99 
 
 corner of the sofa in the hall, and covered 
 him up with a shawl. After a while, Bessie 
 seeing him, thought she was tired too, so she 
 climbed on the sofa, took Flossy in her arms, 
 nestled down on the cushions, and in five 
 minutes shic, too, was fast asleep. There Mag- 
 gie, who had been down in the kitchen, beg- 
 ging the cook for some milk for the puppy, 
 found her. She stood looking at her for a 
 moment, then ran into the library where her 
 father and Uncle John were sitting. 
 
 " Oh, papa," she said, seizing his hand, 
 *' come and see the prettiest tiling you ever 
 saw. Come, Uncle John, do come ; but do 
 not make any noise." 
 
 Papa and Uncle John followed the eager 
 little girl, wlio led them to the sofa where 
 Bessie and Flossy lay. 
 
 "Isn't she sweet?" whispered Maggie. 
 " Isn't it just like a picture ? " 
 
lOO Bessie in the City, 
 
 It was indeed a pretty sight. The sleeping 
 child in her white dress, with her curls falling 
 over the red cushions, and the little dog 
 clasped in her arms, his face cuddled up 
 against her shoulder. But Mr. Duncan and 
 Mr. Bradford thought that not the least pretty 
 part of it was the affectionate little sister 
 standing by, looking at Bessie with so much 
 love in her eyes. Her father could not help 
 stooping to kiss her. Just then Aunt Helen 
 passed through the hall. 
 
 " Come here, Helen," said Mr. Duncan. 
 
 " Isn't that a pretty picture, Aunt Helen ? '* 
 said Maggie, as her aunt paused to look. " I 
 am going to call mamma." 
 
 " No, no," said Mrs. Duncan, " do not call 
 her. You have given me an idea, Maggie. 
 Can you keep a secret ? " 
 
 Maggie promised, and her father said he 
 thought she might be trusted. 
 
Flossy. loi 
 
 Now Aunt Helen could draw and paint 
 very beautifully, and her " idea" was to make 
 a little picture of Bessie as she lay sleeping, 
 and to give it to her mother as a Christmas 
 gift. She ran to her room, and bringing 
 paper and pencils, began to sketch her little 
 niece. 
 
 Mr. Bradford looked over lier shoulder. 
 
 " Could you not put the other one in ? " 
 he whispered, looking at Maggie, who still 
 seemed as if she could not take her eyes 
 from her sister. " We never separate them, 
 you know, and it will be a double pleasure to 
 Margaret." 
 
 So Mrs. Duncan drew Maggie, too, though 
 Maggie did not know this, for her aunt said 
 she should not let her see the picture until it 
 was quite finished. 
 
 " And mind," said Uncle John, " if you say 
 a word about it, I shall look at you with both 
 
I02 Bessie in the City. 
 
 my eyes, and put your nose between your 
 ears." 
 
 Maggie laughed, and promised to be very 
 careful ; and now, as Bessie began to stir, Aunt 
 Helen ran awaj^ with the picture. 
 
 Flossy was taken home in the carriage that 
 afternoon, and I must say, he behaved very 
 badly all the way He was not used to riding, 
 and he did not like it at all. On the first 
 half of the road, he whined and fretted all 
 the time ; and when he became a little accus- 
 tomed to the motion, he would not keep quiet ; 
 and either scrambled ail about the carriage, 
 or if Maggie or Bessie took him upon her 
 lap, put his head out of the window and 
 barked at every person he saw, so that his 
 little mistresses were quite mortified. 
 
 " Mamma," said Bessie, "please don't think 
 he's the troublesomest little dog you ever saw. 
 We will teach him to behave better. If you 
 
Flossy, 103 
 
 hadn't teached us, maybe we would have been 
 as full of misfit as he is." 
 
 Mamma said she did not doubt that Flossy 
 would learn better in time, and she would 
 have patience with him. 
 
V. 
 
 THE colonel: S STORT, 
 
 jN Sunday morning Maggie and Bessie 
 were made ready, and taken over to 
 Mrs. Rush's rooms at nine o'clock, as had 
 been arranged. As Maggie Iiad told Mr. 
 Hall, Mrs. Rush could not leave the colonel to 
 go to the church school ; but she was very 
 anxious to do something for the lambs of the 
 Good Shepherd, who had so lately brought 
 her dear husband into the fold, and so she 
 had begged that these little ones might come 
 to her. Mrs. Bradford was very glad to have 
 her Ciiildren go. Bessie had never been to 
 Sunday-scliool, and her mother thought the 
 walk too much for her on a cold day ; but 
 Mrs. Rush's rooms were so near their own 
 
The Colonel's Story, 105 
 
 home that she could go there in almost any 
 weather. As for Maggie, she was rather glad 
 not to go back to the church school. Uer 
 teacher, Miss Winslow, was going away, as 
 you know, and she did not at all like the idea 
 of having a new one. 
 
 " I should be so very homesick after Miss 
 Winslow, mamma," she had said, "but now I 
 shall not mind that so much ; and then Bessie 
 will be with me, so we will be very happy.'* 
 
 Truly it was a pleasant class. Four little 
 girls who dearly loved each other, and the 
 sweet young lady who was to be their teacher. 
 Then the room was so bright and sunny, and 
 the colonel, to please his wife and her little 
 scholars, perhaps also to please himself, had 
 taken a great deal of pains to have all nicely 
 prepared for them. Four small cane-seated 
 chairs stood side by side, and on each of them 
 lay a Testament and a hymn-book, while ou 
 
io6 Bessie in the City, 
 
 the table were a number of picture-cards and 
 a neat case containing a dozen books, which 
 were to be their library. 
 
 "When these are all read," said the colonel, 
 " they shall have some more." 
 
 There was only one thing which seemed 
 wrong, but that was rather serious. The dear 
 teacher appeared as if she would scarcely be 
 able to do her part that morning. Mrs. Rush 
 had taken a severe cold, and had a bad head- 
 ache and a sore throat. She looked quite ill, 
 and when Mr. Bradford, wlio had brought the 
 little girls over, shook hands with her, he said, 
 " I think you are in no fit state for teaching 
 to-day. You had better let me take the 
 children home, and make a beginning next 
 Sunday." 
 
 " So I have told her," said Colonel Rush ; 
 ^' but she cannot bear to disappoint herself 
 or them, and I have agreed to let her try, on 
 
The (^oloners Story. 107 
 
 condition that, if she find it too much for her, 
 I am to take her place. I do not know what 
 kind of a teacher I shall make, but, at least, 
 I can tell them a story." 
 
 Mrs. Rush said she thought she should do 
 very well; so Mr. Bradford went away, and 
 in a few minutes Gracie Howard and Lily 
 Norris came in, and they all took their seats. 
 Colonel Rush went into the inner room, where 
 he could not be seen, but where he could hear 
 if he chose ; and his wife began. 
 
 First, she made a short prayer, asking our 
 Father in heaven to bless them with his 
 presence and his love, that he would give her 
 strength and grace to teach these lambs 
 aright, and to them, hearts gentle and tender, 
 and ready to learn the way of life, and that 
 he would bring them all at last to dwell with 
 him in his home beyond the sky. Then she 
 read to them of Christ blessing little children, 
 
Io8 Bessie in the City, 
 
 and, showing them a card on which a picture 
 of this was painted, talked to them about it. 
 
 " Now we will sing," she said, " or rather 
 you may, for I shall not be able to help you. 
 We will take something you all know quite 
 well, that there may be no difficulty about the 
 tune. ' I want to be an angel.' Who will 
 start it ? " 
 
 Any one of the children, if she liad been 
 alone, could have started the tune and sung 
 it througli without trouble ; but with all the 
 rest waiting, not one felt as if she could 
 begin. They all sat looking at one another, 
 each little girl afraid to trust her own voice. 
 
 " Why," said Mrs. Rush, " are we to have 
 no singing at all ? Cannot one of you do 
 it?" 
 
 Then came two or three notes from tlie 
 other room. Bessie took them right up, and 
 the rest followed immediately. As soon as 
 
The ColoneVs Story, 109 
 
 they were fairly started, the colonel paused, 
 and let them sing it through by themselves. 
 Very nicely they did it, too ; their sweet 
 young voices making pleasant music in the 
 ears of their kind friends. 
 
 '' I want you each to learn a new hymn 
 and a Bible verse, during the week, to say to 
 me next Sunday," said Mrs. Rush. " We 
 have had no regular lesson for to-day. Can 
 you not each remember a hymn to repeat 
 now ? " 
 
 " I'll say, ' Saviour, like a shepherd lead 
 us,' " said Gracie ; and she repeated the hymn 
 very correctly. 
 
 Lily said, " Little travellers, Zionward ; '^ 
 but, as you probably know both of these pretty 
 pieces, there is no need to write them here. 
 
 Bessie said the verses about the lamb, which 
 she had repeated to Grandpapa Duncan at 
 Riverside. 
 
no Bessie in the City. 
 
 Maggie's turn came last. " I am going to 
 say tlie very best hymn that ever was made," 
 she said. 
 
 " How do you know it is the very best ? " 
 said Gracie. " Maybe it isn't so pretty as the 
 one Bessie said. I like that very much." 
 
 " So do I ; but then this one is the best, for 
 my own mamma made it," answered Mag- 
 gie, as if there could be no doubt after this 
 that her hymn was the best that could be 
 written. 
 
 Gracie opened her eyes wide, and listened 
 with all her might. To have a mamma who 
 wrote hymns, must, she thought, be very fine, 
 and she did not wonder that Maggie felt 
 rather proud of it. 
 
 "Shall I say it?" asked Maggie of Mrs. 
 Rush. 
 
 " Certainly," said the lady ; and Maggie 
 began. 
 
The Colon cVs Story, iit 
 
 " Little one, what canst thou do, 
 For the Lord who loved thee so, 
 That he left his heavenly throne, 
 To our sinful world came down. 
 On the cross to faint and die, 
 That thy ransomed soul might Ajf 
 Far beyond all sin and pain, 
 "Where the Crucified doth reign? 
 
 *' Little hands, what can ye do 
 For the Lord who loved me so ? 
 
 ** Little hands fit work may find, 
 If I have a willing mind ; 
 And whate'er the service small, 
 If I only do it all 
 For the sake of God's dear Son, 
 He the simplest gift will own. 
 Little hands, so ye may prove 
 All my gratitude and love. 
 
 " Little lips, what can ye do 
 For the Lord who loved me so « 
 
 ** Let no harsh or angry word 
 From these little lips be heard ; 
 Let them never take in vain 
 God's most glorious, holy name 
 
112 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Let sweet sounds of praise and joy 
 All your childish powers employ. 
 Little lips, so ye may prove 
 All my gratitude and love. 
 
 " Little feet, what can ye do 
 For the Lord who loved me so ? 
 
 " Follow Him who day by day 
 Guides thee on the heavenward way. 
 Little feet, turn not aside, 
 Tread down shame and fear and pride, 
 Aught might tempt yie to go back 
 From the safe and narrow track. 
 Little feet, so ye may prove 
 All my gratitude and love. 
 
 " Little heart, what canst thou do 
 For the Lord who loved me so ? 
 
 " Thou canst love Mm, little heart, 
 Such thy blessed, happy part. 
 In his tender arms may rest, 
 Lying there content and blest. 
 This is all he asks of thee, 
 ' Little heart, oh ! lovest thou me ? 
 Little heart, so thou mayst prove 
 
 . All my gratitude and love. 
 
The ColoneVs Story. 113 
 
 ** Little one, tliis thou canst do 
 For the Lord who loved thee so. 
 Little hands and little feet 
 Still may render service meet ; 
 Little lips and little heart 
 In such glorious vrork bear part. 
 Little one, thus thou niayst prove 
 All thy gratitude and love." 
 
 **01i, bow nice!" said Gracie ; and Lily 
 said the same thing. 
 
 " And mamma is going to make music for 
 it," said Bessie, " so we can sing it." 
 
 " Then we will all learn it," said Mrs. 
 Rush. *' We shall have a piano here next 
 Sunday, and there need be no more trouble 
 about our tunes. Now I will tell you a little 
 story." 
 
 But when she began to talk again, she was 
 BO hoarse that she could scarcely speak, and 
 the children saw that her throat was very 
 painful. , 
 
 8 
 
11^ Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Don't try to tell us ; you feel too sick," 
 said Bessie. " We'll just sit still, and bo aa 
 quite as mices." 
 
 Mrs. Rush smiled at her, and tried once 
 more to go on, but just then the sound of the 
 colonel's crutches was heard, and the next 
 moment he came in the room. 
 
 " 1 cannot let you go on, Marion," said he. 
 " I will take your place. Can you put up 
 with a story from me, little ones, while my 
 wife rests ? She is able to do no more for you 
 to-day." 
 
 Put up with a story from him ! That was 
 a curious question from the colonel, who was 
 such a famous story-teller. They were all 
 quite ready to listen to anything he might tell 
 them, though they felt very sorry for dear 
 Mrs. Rush, who, seeming rather glad to give 
 her place to her husband, went to the other 
 side of the room and took the great arm- 
 
The ColoneVs Story, 115 
 
 chair, while the colonel settled himself on tho 
 sofa. 
 
 Bessie looked at him very wistfully. 
 
 "Well, what is it, my pet?" he asked. 
 
 "Don't you think you'd be more comfor' 
 ble if I was on the sofa by you ? " she asked. 
 "I am sure I would." 
 
 " Indeed, I should," he answered, holding 
 out his hand with a smile, and in a moment 
 she was in her favorite seat beside him. 
 
 He told the others to stand around him, 
 and commenced his story. 
 
 " A little child sat upon a green sunny 
 bank, singing to himself in a low, sweet voice. 
 It was not easy to understand the words of 
 the song ; indeed, there did nol; seem to be 
 much wisdom in them. It was as if he were 
 only pouring out in music the joy of his own 
 young, happy heart. 
 
 " It was a lovely place. The bank on which 
 
Il6 Bessie in the City, 
 
 the child rested was covered with a soft green 
 moss, while around him bloomed sweet flow- 
 ers, blue violets peeping up from their nest of 
 leaves, and filling the air with their delicious 
 scent, pure lilies of the valley with their 
 snowy bells, and the pale pink primroses. 
 Overhead grew tall trees, shading him from the 
 rays of the sun which might else have beat too 
 strongly on his tender head ; and among their 
 branches the soft winds whispered and the 
 birds sang joyfully. At the foot of the bank 
 was a path bordered with lovely ferns and 
 grasses and flowers, such as grew above ; and 
 beyond this again ran a little stream sparkling 
 in the sunlight, and gurgling and rippling over 
 and around the stones and pebbles which lay 
 in its way. And all — the boy, the birds, the 
 whispering leaves, the sweet flowers, the run- 
 ning brook — seemed joining in one hymn of 
 
The ColoneVs Story, 117 
 
 praise to Him who made them and gave them 
 life. 
 
 " On the other side of the brook, and in a 
 line with the narrow path, ran a broad road, 
 on which also grew flowers gayer and brighter 
 than those wliose home was upon the bank or 
 on the path ; but when one came nearer, or 
 tried to pluck them, they were found to be 
 full of thorns, or turned to dust and ashes in 
 the hand. 
 
 '-'- Both road and path seemed to lead to the 
 mountains, which lay in the distance ; but it 
 was not really so. There were many windings 
 and turnings in both, so that one who travelled 
 upon them could not see far before him. Some- 
 times they would lead over a hill, sometimes 
 around its foot, sometimes through a forest, 
 sometimes through a bog or stream. Those 
 who became puzzled upon the broad road 
 would lose their way and could seldom find 
 
Il8 Bessie tn the City, 
 
 either track again ; for there was nothing to 
 guide them, and they would go deeper and 
 deeper into the dark woods or the treacherous 
 bog, or perhaps fall into some deep pit, and so 
 they were never seen again. But if one who 
 travelled upon the narrow path was in doubt 
 whether he were right or no, he had only to 
 lift his eyes, and the true way would be 
 pointed out to him ; for all along were guide- 
 posts, and upon them were golden letters which 
 shone so brightly that he who ran might read ; 
 and they told him which turning he must 
 take. By the side of the path there ran also 
 a silver thread, and he who kept fast hold of 
 this could seldom or never go astray ; for if 
 he was about to turn aside, fine points or 
 thorns would rise up in the thread and, prick- 
 ing him, bid him take heed to his steps. But 
 however the path might wind, in and out, 
 now here, now there, it still led onward to 
 
The ColoneVs Story, , 119 
 
 the mountains whose tops were to be seen 
 in a straight line with the child's home ; and 
 he who followed it could not fail to come 
 there. 
 
 " The child was still singing, wlien a stranger 
 came up this path. He stood still and looked 
 at the boy with a smile, as though the simple 
 song pleased him. 
 
 " ' What is thy name, little one ? ' he asked. 
 
 " * Benito,' answered the child. 
 
 " ' Ah ! thou art well named, for truly thou 
 art a blessed child. What a lovely home thou 
 hast ! ' 
 
 " ' But this is not my home,' said Benito. 
 ' My Father placed me here for a little while, 
 but my home lies far away on the mountains 
 yonder where he is. There is a beautiful city 
 there, where my Elder Brother has gone to 
 prepare a place for me. Stay ; ' and the child 
 put his hand into his bosom and drew out a 
 
I20 Bessie in the City, 
 
 glass ; ' look through this, and then thou 
 wilt see the beautiful city ; thou mayest even 
 see my Father's house. This glass is called 
 Faith, and my Brother bade me look through 
 it when my feet were tired and my heart was 
 faint.' 
 
 " The stranger took it from his hand, and 
 looking through it, gave a glad cry of sur- 
 prise ; then took from his own breast a glass 
 like the boy's, but not so fresh and bright. 
 
 " ' I, too, have a glass,' he said ; ' but it is 
 not so clear as thine. It is my own fault, for 
 it needs constant use to keep it pure and un- 
 dimmed, and I have not brought it forth as 
 often as I sliould have done. But now the 
 oeautiful sight which I have seen through 
 thine has taught me what I lose by letting it 
 lie hidden away. And when art thou to go to 
 thy Father's house ? ' 
 
 " ' Now,' said Benito, ' for the message has 
 
The ColoneVs Story, I2I 
 
 come for me, and I am to start to-day upon 
 the very path on which thou standest.' 
 
 " ' But it will be a hard way for thee,' said 
 the stranger, in a pitying voice. * I am taller 
 than thee, and can look farther ahead, and I 
 see rocks and stones which will hurt those 
 tender feet, and hills which will be difficult 
 for thee to climb, and streams whose waves 
 will be almost too much for thee. Wait till 
 thou art a little stronger and more able to 
 travel.' ' 
 
 " ' I cannot wait,' said Benito ; * I have 
 heard my Father's voice, and I must not stay.' 
 
 " ' And hast thou food and drink for the 
 journey ? ' 
 
 " ' My Father has promised that I shall be 
 fed with the bread of life, and drink from 
 living waters.' 
 
 " ' But that white robe of thine will become 
 soiled with the dust and heat of the day.' 
 
122 Bessie tn the City. 
 
 '' * This white robe is called Innocence,' said 
 the child. ' Mj Father clothed me in it when 
 he left me here ; and if it should become 
 spotted by the way, he has said that it shall 
 be washed white again before I go into his 
 presence.' 
 
 " ' Truly thou hast made good use of thy 
 glass,' said the stranger; ' and thine own cour- 
 age puts my fears for thee to shame. I, too, am 
 bound for the mountains, for thy Father is my 
 Father, thy home my home. Come, shall we 
 journey there together ? We may perhaps aid 
 one another. I can help thee over the rough 
 places ; and thou mayest now and then let me 
 take a look through thy glass till mine own is 
 brighter with more frequent use.' 
 
 " ' I will go with thee,' said Benito, who 
 liked the kind, gentle face of the stranger ; 
 and coming down from his mossy seat, he put 
 
The ColoneVs Story. 123 
 
 his hand in that of his new friend, who told 
 him his name was Experience. 
 
 " ' Men call me a hard teacher, my child,' he 
 said ; ' I trust I may be gentle with thee. 1 
 shall not be able to be always at thy side, for 
 I may have work to do which thou canst not 
 share, and I may leave thee for a time ; but 1 
 will always await thee or follow on after thee.' 
 
 " Experience was a grave-looking man, and 
 his face had a sad and weary look as though 
 he longed for home and rest. But he had 
 always a smile for the child when he turned 
 towards him. His dress was of gray, and 
 about his neck he wore a chain of golden 
 beads. So they journeyed on together, the 
 man and the boy ; each with a hand upon 
 the silver thread which ran by the wayside. 
 
 " ' What is tliat chain about thy neck ? * 
 asked Benito. 
 
 " ' It is the gift I carry to our Father,' said 
 
124 Bessie m the City. 
 
 Experience, looking down witli a smile at tlio 
 chain. 
 
 ^* ' I have no gift,' said the child ; ' I did not 
 know that I should need one. My Elder 
 Brother told me he had paid the price which 
 should give me entrance to the beautiful city.' 
 
 " ' He has done so,' said the other, ' and 
 though thou goest with empty hands, thou 
 shalt have as loving a welcome as if thou 
 liadst all the wealth of the universe to offer. 
 But still, one would wish to have some gift 
 to lay at our Father's feet. Perhaps thou 
 mayest find some jewel on the road. I had 
 nothing when I started. These beads have 
 been given to me, one by one, by those whom 
 I have helped or taught by the way ; for, lit- 
 tle one, thou art not the first whose hand has 
 been laid in mine ; and I have strung them 
 together as a fit offering for him to whom we 
 go-' 
 
The Colonel s Story, 125 
 
 " * I have no bead to give,' said Benito, 
 sadly. 
 
 " ' No matter ; that white robe of thine gives 
 thee a claim upon mj care, which I could not 
 set aside if I would. Cheer up, sweet child. 
 If a jewel fell in thy way, and thou didst not 
 stop to pick it up, that thou mightst carry it to 
 our Father, then indeed there would be reason 
 to fear his displeasure, but if thou findest 
 none, he will ask none.' 
 
 " So Benito was comforted, and once more 
 went on his way rejoicing. His sweet talk 
 cheered the older pilgrim, and every now and 
 then they would both break out into songs of 
 praise and joy. Experience helped the little 
 one over many rough places, for though the 
 path was at first easy and pleasant, it soon 
 grew hard and stony. Then they passed 
 through a dark forest, where Benito could 
 scarcely have kept his feet but for the help of 
 
126 
 
 Bessie in the City. 
 
 his older and wiser friend, who took him in 
 liis arms until they were again upon the open 
 road. But even among the hrambles and 
 thickets of the forest the way was plain, if 
 they but looked up at the guide-posts ; for 
 the greater the darkness, the brighter shone 
 the letters. 
 
VI. 
 
 THE STORT CONTINUED. 
 
 HEY journeyed on till they came to a 
 grotto built upon the side of the path, 
 and Experience said, 'It is now the seventh 
 hour, and we may turn in here for food and 
 drink.' 
 
 " So they went into the grotto, where were 
 many other pilgrims, and were fed with the 
 bread of life, and drank of living waters, so 
 that they were strengthened for the rest of 
 the journey. And this food they received 
 from the hands of two soldiers, — an old man 
 and a young one, — both of whom were in 
 shining armor, with a white cross upon the 
 shoulder, and upon the breast of each hung a 
 string of jewels, so bright that the eye could 
 scarcely rest upon them. 
 
128 Bessie in the City* 
 
 " * Did they find those jewels by the way ? ' 
 Benito asked of his friend. 
 
 " ' Yes/ answered Experience. ' The jew- 
 els are souls that have been saved by the food 
 which our Father taught these soldiers to 
 serve.' 
 
 " ' And see,' said the child, * there is an- 
 other pilgrim with a shining star about his 
 neck.' 
 
 " ' He started upon his journey with much 
 gold,' said Experience. * And he made good 
 use of it ; building such grottos as this, 
 where tired pilgrims might rest and be fed, 
 and others where the sick and lame might be 
 healed. And he did this, not for his own 
 glory, but for love of Him whose children he 
 rejoiced to help. So the gold has come back 
 to him in the form of this star, which he may 
 offer to his Master.' 
 
 " And as the little one looked around 
 
The Story Continued, 129 
 
 among the pilgrims, ho saw that most of them 
 had some gift which they were taking to their 
 Father; and his own heart grew sad again, 
 for he had as yet found none, though he had 
 looked carefully by tlie way. 
 
 " When the seventh hour had gone by, 
 the pilgrims all went forth on their journey 
 again. Some kept near Benito and Expe- 
 rience, others passed far ahead, and some few 
 were left behind. But the two soldiers were 
 always near ; for as Experience walked slowly, 
 so that he might help the little one whose 
 hand lay in his, so the younger soldier also 
 held back, that he might lend his arm to aid 
 the feeble steps of the older. 
 
 " They now came to a black bog where the 
 
 guide-post pointed to a narrow bridge which 
 
 led them safely over it. But from the midst 
 
 of the bog came terrible cries. ' Come and 
 
 help us, for we have lost our way ; and if we 
 
 
130 Bessie in the City, 
 
 are not set right, we shall never reach our 
 home.' 
 
 " Then the two soldiers said they must go 
 and help the poor lost ones, and Experience 
 said he would go with them. 
 
 " ' For the path is pretty plain for some 
 distance now,' he said to Benito, ' and I 
 think thou couldst walk by thyself for a while. 
 Only from time to time look at the guide- 
 posts, and be sure to keep fast hold upon the 
 silver thread.' Then he left him to go with 
 the soldiers. 
 
 " So the boy went on by himself, watching 
 carefully for the jewel he hoped to find. And 
 as he looked, a poor lame bird hopped upon 
 his path. The broad road was very near to 
 the narrow one in this spot, and walking upon 
 it were many children and older people. These 
 children had long been calling to Benito, telling 
 him to come where the ground was soft and 
 
The Story Continued, 131 
 
 easy to walk upon, and where he might play 
 all the day long if he chose. But Benito 
 would not listen, for Experience had told him 
 to close his ears ; and besides he had the com- 
 mand of his Elder Brother that he should set 
 his feet on the narrow path. 
 
 " The bird was a poor, half-starved looking 
 thing, with a broken wing ; for tliese cruel 
 children had caught it, and after teasing and 
 tormenting it for a long while, had stoned it. 
 It had at last escaped them, and fluttering 
 across the stream which divided the roads, 
 fell at Benito's feet. 
 
 "The boy raised it gently, b'ound up the 
 broken wing, and gathering some of the grass 
 which grew by the wayside, made for the bird 
 a soft nest. Then taking from his bosom a 
 piece of bread, given to him by the old soldier 
 lest he should be hungry, he fed it with some 
 
132 Bessie in the City. 
 
 crumbs, brought it water from the stream, and 
 left it there in comfort and safety. 
 
 " On he went, wishing for his friends, and 
 still looking for the jewel. Suddenly he saw 
 before him a beautiful butterfly, with wings 
 of crimsom, blue, and gold. It flew gayly 
 about him, now lighting on his shoulder, now 
 circling round his head; but never coming 
 where he might lay his hand upon it. 
 
 " ' What a lovely thing ! ' he said to himself. 
 ' If I may but catch it, I will take it to my 
 Father.' 
 
 " The butterfly lighted upon a flower, and 
 the child sprang after it. Away it flew to an- 
 other, and he followed, still to miss it. On 
 they went, from flower to flower, until it 
 reached the stream, and flying across, lit upon 
 a showy tulip, just upon the farther side. Be- 
 nito hesitated and drew back, for the insect 
 was now upon the forbidden road, and he 
 
The Story Continued. 133 
 
 feared to disobey. But there was the butter 
 fly fluttering its lovely wings in the sunlight , 
 the stream looked narrow here, he could reach 
 the prize, and be back in an instant. He 
 should be so glad to show it to his friends 
 when they joined him again. As he thought 
 thus, he loosened a little his grasp upon the 
 silver thread, and instantly small prickles 
 started up upon it, reminding him of his duty ; 
 but he looked again at the butterfly, and then, 
 forgetting all else, let go his hold altogether, 
 sprang across the stream, and once more 
 reached forth his hand. Again the butterfly 
 fluttered off" a little farther, this time burying 
 itself in the very heart of a lovely flower. 
 
 " ' Ah, I have thee now,' said Benito, and, 
 springing forward, his hand closed upon the 
 blossom. But he instantly drew it back, cry- 
 ing aloud with pain, for sharp nettles ran 
 themselves into his tende: palm, and the but- 
 
134 Bessie in the City, 
 
 tcrflj suddenly changed into an ugly creeping 
 tiling. He heard around liim mocking laugh- 
 ter and loud, angry cries, and, terrified, he 
 turned to go back. But he found himself in 
 a bog where his feet sank deeper and deeper, 
 and his white dress became soiled and spotted. 
 When he looked towards the stream, its 
 waters had become black and muddy, and a 
 fog hung over it so that he could not see the 
 narrow path. He drew his glass from his 
 bosom, but alas it was so clouded that he 
 could not see through it, and then he cried 
 aloud in his pain and grief. Suddenly there 
 same a voice from beyond the mist, — 
 
 *' ' Step boldly into the stream, my child , 
 these are the healing waters of Repentance 
 and Confession, and thou shalt pass safely 
 through them to the true way once more.' 
 
 '• Benito hesitated no longer, but plunged 
 bravely into the muddy stream. And behold 
 
The Story Continued. 135 
 
 the mist lifted at once, tlie waters became 
 clear, and he saw upon the opposite bank the 
 older soldier, who held out his hand to him. 
 The child grasped it, and in another moment, 
 he stood safe, but weak and trembling beside 
 his friend ; and as he looked down in fear and 
 distress, lest his dress were not fit for such 
 company, he saw it was white and pure again, 
 cleansed by the waters through which he had 
 passed. 
 
 " Then came Experience and bound up 
 the little bleeding hands, and replacing one 
 upon the silver thread, took the other in his 
 own. 
 
 " ' I wished to carry the beautiful insect to 
 my Father, that he might know I thought of 
 him on the way,' sobbed tlie child. 
 
 " ' That butterfly is called Temptation, be- 
 loved,' said the old soldier, 'and could not 
 fail to lead thee astray if thou didst pursue her. 
 
136 Bessie in the City. 
 
 She has many ways of deceiving tliosc whom 
 she would lead into sin; and, seeing tlio 
 strong wish of thy young heart to gain some 
 gift which thou mightest carry to thy Father, 
 she took that very means to draw thee aside 
 from the path of duty.' 
 
 "The little one sighed, for his heart was 
 sad, not as much for the pain he had suffered 
 as for his bitter disappointment. After a lit- 
 tle, he thought of his glass, and drawing it 
 forth, found it bright and undimmed as it had 
 been when he started. Then he grew happy 
 again, and was going on his way singing, when 
 he saw a boy, smaller than himself, sitting by 
 the wayside, weeping. 
 
 " Benito ran up to him. ' What ailctli 
 thee ? ' lie asked. 
 
 '' ' Ah ! ' said tlie boy, ' my sister and I were 
 going home, hand in hand, and we were so 
 happy, for we loved one another dearly ; but 
 
The Story Continued, 137 
 
 a shining angel came and carried licr frora 
 nij sight, and now I am alone.' 
 
 " Then Benito drew the other's head upon 
 his breast, and kissed him and wept with hiiii, 
 and spoke tender words to him, so that tlie 
 child was comforted. Then they went on to- 
 gether, but they had gone but a few steps 
 when the shining angel came again, and tak 
 ing Benito's new friend in his arms, carried 
 him away also. He smiled sweetly on Benito 
 as he passed out of sight, and our young pil- 
 grim felt a great joy in his heart to think that 
 he had given comfort to the little stranger. 
 
 " A short distance farther on, the travellers 
 overtook an old woman, bending beneath the 
 weight of a heavy burden which she carried. 
 She seemed very feeble, and Benito was 
 grieved for her as he saw how she tottered 
 and how liard it was for her to bear up be 
 aeath her load. She was faint and hungry 
 
fjS Bessie in the City, 
 
 toOj and at every step it appeared as if she 
 must sink down. 
 
 " ' Can I not help thee ? ' asked Benito. 
 
 " 'Dear cliild ! ' said the old dame. ' How 
 can those tiny hands help to bear a burden 
 such as mine ? ' ~ 
 
 " ' I can try,' said Benito. ' Lay a part of 
 it upon my shoulders. I will take all I can to 
 lighten thine. And see, take this ; it will 
 strengthen thee for the rest of the journey ; ' 
 and he handed her the piece of bread which 
 the soldier had given for his own needs. 
 
 " The dame took it and eat, and strength 
 came to her as the boy had said ; and as he tried 
 to bear upon his shoulders a part of her load, 
 she, too, shed tears which fell upon his bosom 
 as she leaned over him. But they were tears 
 of gratitude and blessing, and did her good ; 
 so that after this she went on her way with 
 more comfort. 
 
The Story Continued. 139 
 
 **And now the day was drawing to its close, 
 the sun was setting, and the end of their 
 journey was near ; for the pilgrims could 
 plainly see the river which lay between them 
 and the mountains where their Father dwelt. 
 But just on the nearer side of the river rose a 
 high hill, and on it was a castle, where lived a 
 cruel robber named Doubt, who often came 
 down and dragged many pilgrims up to his 
 castle just when they were in sight of their 
 home. When the soldiers saw this, they said 
 there was one more fight to make before they 
 crossed the river, and again Experience went 
 with them, leaving the child at the foot of the 
 hill, and telling him that if he were frightened, 
 or if the robber came to carry him away, he had 
 only to gaze through his glass at the opposite 
 side of the river and all fear and danger 
 would pass away. 
 
 " So the three went up the hill, and the child 
 
i^o Bessie in the City*^ 
 
 sat down to await their return. As ho sat 
 there, he looked at the river and was afraid, for 
 he tlioiight, ^ How can such a little one as 1 
 pass through those deep waters ? The waves 
 will be too strong for me, and will carry me 
 away.' 
 
 "Then he remembered what Experience had 
 told him, and looking through his glass, he 
 saw that the waves were so shallow that they 
 would scarcely wet his feet ; and on the other 
 side rose his Father's house, so beautiful, so 
 glorious, tliat he cried aloud with joy and 
 with longing to pass the river and be there. 
 
 " But now he found he was not to sit still, 
 for as the fight went on above, and the 
 soldiers and Experience gained the victory, 
 one after another of the prisoners came down 
 the hill, wounded and bleeding, for they had 
 risen to help those who came to set them free, 
 and had been terribly hurt in the battle. 
 
The ^tory Continued. 141 
 
 " Benito rose and did wliat he could for 
 them, bringing water to their tliirstj, fevered 
 lips, staying the blood as well as he could, and 
 gathering fresh grass and moss for pillows 
 for their weary heads. And while he was so 
 busy, he felt a touch upon his shoulder, and 
 looking up, he saw the shining angel who had 
 carried away the little boy with whom he had 
 wept. 
 
 " ' Come,' said the angel, ' I am thy Fa- 
 ther's messenger, sent to carry thee over the 
 river.' 
 
 " The little one stretched out his arms 
 with a cry of joy ; but, even as he did so, the 
 old thought came to him, and he said, sadly, 
 * Ah, I have found no jewel to offer to my 
 Father ! ' 
 
 " The angel made no answer, but lifted him 
 up, softly kissing his forehead, and Benito 
 sank gently into his arms. The angel carried 
 
Z4-2 Bessie in the City. 
 
 him swiftly over the river, and on the other 
 side stood his Elder Brother, who received 
 him from the messenger, and laid him in his 
 bosom ; and he said to Benito, ' My lamb, put 
 thy hand into thy bosom and see what thou 
 fmdest there.' 
 
 " The little one obeyed, and drew forth a 
 string of pure white pearls, so fair, so lovely 
 that they seemed more beautiful than any of 
 the shining jewels which his fellow-pilgrims 
 had worn. 
 
 " ' That is thy gift unto thy Father,' said his 
 Brother. * These are the tears which the 
 young child and the old dame shed upon thy 
 bosom, the drops of water which thou didst 
 bring to the fainting prisoners, with which 
 thou didst cheer the drooping bird. They 
 have changed into these fair pearls, and re- 
 turned unto thine own bosom, because in 
 doing it unto them, thou didst it unto me. 
 
The Story Continued, 14^ 
 
 See, there is thy welcome into the home of 
 the blessed.' 
 
 " Then looking up, Benito saw written ovei 
 the door of his Father's house, ' Blessed are 
 the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' 
 
 " And his Brother carried him into his 
 Father's presence, where he cast his pearls at 
 bis feet, and was received into his love and 
 care for evermore." 
 
 The colonel paused and looked at the chil- 
 dren, fearing that he might liave made his 
 story too long. But it did not seem so, for 
 they all were so interested that they had quite 
 forgotten everything else. Bessie lay back 
 with her head on his arm, and her eyes fixed 
 on his face as if slie feared to lose a word ; 
 while even Maggie's restless hands were quite 
 still, lying clasped on the arm of the sofa 
 tis she stood motionless beside him. Graoie 
 and Lily had drawn up their chairs and sat 
 
144 Bessie in the City. 
 
 in front of him, listening as eagerly as the 
 others ; and now Lily drew a long breath, 
 and said, " Is that all ? " 
 
 "All!" said the colonel. "Yes. Is it 
 not enough? I feared you would be quite 
 tired of me and my story." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Lily. " I wish you would 
 tell us stories all day. I should never be tired." 
 
 " I should then," said Colonel Rush, smiling. 
 " And it is nearly time for you to go home, 
 now." 
 
 " Colonel Rush," said Gracie, " isn't your 
 story what is called an allegory ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " Did you under- 
 stand it, Bessie ? " 
 
 " 'Most all of it," answered Bessie. " You 
 meant that even little children can do some- 
 thing for Jesus if they are kind and good, and 
 he wont care if it is only a little thing, if they 
 do it 'cause they love him." 
 
The Story Continued. 145 
 
 ** You are right, my darling." 
 
 " And wlien the boy went in the wrong road 
 after the butterfly, you meant that we mast 
 not do wrono; even when we thou2rht it was 
 for a good purpose," said Maggie. " Mamma 
 told me that the other day." 
 
 *'And the Elder Brother means Jesus," 
 said Lily. 
 
 " I am glad you all understand it so well," 
 said the colonel, '' and still more glad that 
 you all like it. It was Maggie's little hymn 
 which made me think of it. So you may 
 thank her, too, for any pleasure it has given 
 you." 
 
 *'And who is Experience ? " asked Mag- 
 gie. 
 
 " Experience may be older people who are 
 generally wiser in some tilings than the little 
 ones, and can help them along ; but who may 
 yet learn much from a child." 
 10 
 
146 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Children cannot tcacli grown people ; can 
 they ? " said Lily. 
 
 " I think they can," said Colonel Rush, lay- 
 ing his hand lovingly on Bessie's head. " The 
 best lesson I ever learned in my life was taught 
 me by a little child." 
 
 " Who ? " asked Maggie. 
 
 " And what was the lesson ? " said Gracie. 
 
 " You must not ask," he answered. '' Hero 
 is your papa, Maggie ; and T(5tn for you, 
 Lily." 
 
 The children said good-by to their kind 
 friends, and went away, promising gladly to 
 come again the next Sunday. 
 
VII. 
 
 THE PEACH-STONES. 
 
 JHOSE peach-stones gave Maggie and 
 Bessie a great deal to do. Tiiey were 
 very busy children in those days. On Mon- 
 day mamma began again with their lessons. 
 They went to her for an hour each morning 
 after they came from their walk, said a read- 
 ing and spelling lesson, a little of the multi- 
 plication-table which Maggie said she was 
 sure was made just '' to bother little girls," 
 and a verse of poetry ; and when the hour 
 was over, had a short sewing lesson. Maggie's 
 " towel task," as she called it, was done later 
 in the day whenever her mamma had time to 
 attend to her. 
 
 As soon as the sewing lesson was over, they 
 
14S Bessie in the City, 
 
 went to the yard to look after the peach- 
 stones. Patrick saved them all for Bessie, 
 and had found two boards for her on which 
 she might dry them ; and never pcacli-stones 
 needed so much attention. In the first j^lace, 
 there was each morning the plate full which 
 Patrick had collected from the table to be 
 washed and spread out on the boards, and 
 the whole number counted over and over 
 again, for they could never naake them twice 
 the same. 
 
 Often when they went out, they found the 
 cats had come over the fence, and knocked 
 them down into the earth of the flower-gar- 
 den, and they all had to be washed over 
 again. Then Flossy, who was always with 
 them now, would insist on scrambling over 
 the boards, and would send the peach-stones 
 flying in every direction, for he thought it fine 
 fun to see them rolling about. There is no 
 
The Peach-Stones. 149 
 
 telling how much they enjoyed all this trou- 
 ble, or how distressed they would have been, 
 if it had been suddenly brought to an end. 
 Indeed, they were quite disappointed if the^ 
 found, everything in good order when they 
 went out in the yard. 
 
 *' Margaret," said Mr. Bradford to his wife 
 one day, as he sat at tlie library window, 
 watching his little daughters at their work, 
 " how long do you suppose it will take those 
 peach-stones to dry at this rate ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bradford laughed as she came and 
 looked over his shoulder. 
 
 " Dear little things ! " she said. " How 
 they do enjoy it ! I believe they fancy thej? 
 are doing the chief part of the work for our 
 peach preserves, besides gaining something to 
 add to their store for the library. I shall be 
 sorry when the warm weather is at an end, 
 and I shall have to forbid them to play with 
 
150 Bessie in the City. 
 
 water. It gives some trouble, to be sure, in 
 the matter of dresses and aprons, but I have 
 not the heart to stop them, while I do not fear 
 they will take cold." 
 
 Nurse grumbled a good deal over the wet 
 dresses and aprons. 
 
 *' AVho ever heard of such doings ? " she said 
 one day. " And what's the good of it all ? 
 Them little ignoramuses out in the backwoods 
 can't read your books when they get 'em." 
 
 Maggie was very much displeased. 
 
 " You ought not to talk so, nursey," she 
 said. " If those children don't know how to 
 read, they can be taught. And don't you 
 like to do missionary work ? " 
 
 " Missionary work ! " said nurse. " And 
 do you think I'd leave my comfortable home 
 to go missioning ? " 
 
 *' That's because you're not so very good," 
 said Maggie, gravely. " Miss Winslow is 
 
The Peach-Stones, 151 
 
 going to leave her comfortable borne, and go 
 to teach those little children that you called 
 such an unpleasant name ; and it's very good 
 of her. Besides, you needn't go away to do 
 missionary work ; you can do it here if you 
 choose." 
 
 " And how's that ? I'd like to know," said 
 nursey, whisking off Maggie's wet dress. 
 
 " If we want to help people, we can do it 
 without going away," said Maggie, " and 
 sometimes it's our duty to do it, and then 
 that's our mission ; mamma said so. Now, 
 nursey, don't you think you have a duty?" 
 
 " If I have, I don't need you to teach it to 
 me," said nurse. 
 
 " No," said Maggie, " I am not going to 
 teach you, 'cause you are old, and I am little, 
 but I am just going to enter an ex-plan-a- 
 tion for you, 'cause you don't seem to under- 
 stand " 
 
152 Bessie in the City* 
 
 — -i^^^a 
 
 At tliis, Jane, wlio was dressing Bcssio 
 began to giggle, and nurse put her liead into 
 the wardrobe, where the children's dresses 
 laj. 
 
 "Now," Maggie went on, *'you see Miss 
 Winslow thinks it is her duty to go and teach 
 those log-cabin children, and that's her mis- 
 sionary work ; and it's Bessie^s duty and 
 mine to help her if we can, so it's our mission- 
 ary work to buy the library ; and it's your 
 duty to dress ns if we get ourselves wet while 
 we earn the money, so that's your missionary 
 work ; and you ought to do it with a cheerful 
 mind, and not scold us." 
 
 Nurse tried to look grum, but the corners 
 of her mouth were twitching, and when she 
 had fastened Maggie's dress, she gave her a 
 hug and a kiss which did not seem as though 
 she were very angry. 
 
 As soon as the little girls had run away to 
 
The Peach-Stones. 153 
 
 tlicir mamma's room, nurse and Jano laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 "Well, well," said nurse, *' to hear the 
 reasoning of her ! And she has the right of 
 it, too, bless her heart, and just shames her 
 old mammy." 
 
 After this, there was no more grumbling 
 about the wet dresses. 
 
 One night there was a hard storm, and in 
 the morning, when the children went out, 
 they found that the rain had washed sand and 
 gravel all over their precious peach-stones. 
 This, of coiirse, must be attended to' imme- 
 diately, and it was quite a piece of work, for 
 by this time they had collected seven or eight 
 hundred. 
 
 " We ought to have something large to 
 wash them in," said Maggie. " What can we 
 find ? " 
 
 Now, Mrs. Bradford had a new cook, who 
 
154 Bessie tn the City, 
 
 had only been in the house for two or three 
 days ; and, as the children were seldom al- 
 lowed to go into the kitchen, she was as yet 
 quite a stranger to them. This cook had not 
 a good temper, but she was very neat, and 
 that morning she had been making a great 
 Bcrubbing and polishing of her tins, after 
 which she put thenl out in the sun. Looking 
 about for somethhig in which to wash their 
 peach-stones, Maggie and Bessie saw these tins, 
 and among them a bright new colander. 
 
 '' Oh, that's just what we want," said Mag- 
 gie. " Can we take it, Patrick ? " she asked 
 of the good-natured waiter, who was cleaning 
 knives in the area. 
 
 " 'Deed, and ye may," said Patrick, who 
 thought his little ladies must have everything 
 they asked for. 
 
 Much delighted, the children filled the col- 
 ander with peach-stones, and, carrying it to 
 
The Peach-Stones. 155 
 
 the hydrant, turned on the water, thinking it 
 fine fun to sec it stream through the holes of 
 the colander. 
 
 Meanwhile Flossy, who was running about 
 the yard, putting his nose into everything, 
 found a quantity of muffin-rings, and think- 
 ing that these would be good things for him 
 to play with, soon had them rolling about in 
 every direction ; but our little girls were too 
 busy to see that he was in mischief. 
 
 It took some time to wash all the peach- 
 stones, but they were done at last, and just 
 arranged again in regular rows upon the 
 boards, when the cook came out to take in 
 her tins. Angry enough she was when she 
 saw the rings scattered around, and the clean, 
 bright colander smeared with sand and gravel ; 
 and terribly she scolded. 
 
 *' How dare ye ! " she said to Maggie and 
 Bessie. " I'll teach ye to touch my tins." 
 
15^ Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Thcy'ro not yours," said Bessie, " tliey 
 are mamma's. Maggie and I were with her 
 the other day when slie bought that basin 
 with holes in, and she only lent them to you ; 
 and, cook, we don't be talked to in that way ; 
 mamma don't allow it." 
 
 This made the cook still more angry, and 
 she scolded in a way quite terrible to hear, 
 while the children stood looking at her, too 
 much astonished and frightened to answer. 
 But Flossy never heard any great noise with- 
 out trying to add his share, and he now 
 began to bark at cook with all his might. 
 
 " There now," said Patrick, " don't ye make 
 such a fuss, Bridget, and I'll just wash yer 
 colander as clane as a new pin. They're not 
 used to sich talk, isn't the little ladies ; for 
 it's dacent people we are all, Mrs. Bradford's 
 help, and not a hard word among us at all, at 
 all. Come now, be civil ; and do you run to 
 
The Peach-Stones, 157 
 
 your play, honeys j it is no harrum yo have 
 done." 
 
 But the cook would not be pacified, and 
 scolded louder and louder, wliile the more she 
 scolded, the louder Flossy barked. 
 
 '' Cook," said Bessie, " you are a very 
 naughty woman, and I don't think we'll keep 
 you." 
 
 " Woof, woof," said Flossy. 
 
 "Be off with you," said cook. "You'll 
 fly at me, will you ? " 
 
 " Woof, woof," said Flossy. 
 
 The woman snatched up Patrick's knife- 
 brick, and with a very bad word to the chil- 
 dren, was about to throw it at the puppy, 
 when Patrick caught her arm ; and the 
 frightened little ones, catching up their dog, 
 scampered off as fast as their feet could carry 
 them. 
 
 Up the back steps and through piazza and 
 
,158 Bessie in the City, 
 
 liall, till they readied the front stairs, where 
 they sat down quite out of breath. For a 
 moment or two neither of them said a word, 
 but sat looking at each other, as if they did 
 not know what to make of all this; while 
 Flossy, thinking he had made noise enough 
 for this time, curled himself up in Maggie's 
 lap for a nap. 
 
 At last, Maggie gave a long sigh. " Oh, 
 dear," she said, " what a dreadful woman ! " 
 
 " And what a wicked word she called us ! " 
 said Bessie. " Maggie, what shall wo do ? " 
 
 '' We'll have to tell mamma," said Maggie ; 
 " she ought to know it." 
 
 " But, how can we tell her ? I don't like to 
 say that word, and, Maggie, I don't like you 
 to say it either." 
 
 " But I s'pose we'll have to," said Maggie. 
 " Mamma wouldn't like to have a swearer in 
 her house." 
 
The Peach" St ones. 159 
 
 *' And what will bo done to tho cook ? *' 
 asked Bessie. " Will she be hung ? " 
 
 " No, I guess not," answered Maggie. '* I 
 think they only hang people when they kill 
 somebody. But I s'poso she'll have to be 
 took to prison. Papa's a lawyer, and I guess 
 he'll send her.'' 
 
 *' I thought the policemen did that," said 
 Bessie. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Maggie. '' You know 
 papa goes down town ? " 
 
 " Yes, to his office." 
 
 " And he goes to another place called 
 * court,' " said Maggie. '' Well, when some- 
 body is very wicked, the police officer comes, 
 and takes him to the lawyer, and he says, 
 ' Mister, this is a very naughty person who 
 has done something very bad ; ' and the law- 
 yer says, ' Here, you, go to prison, and just 
 
l6o Bessie in the City, 
 
 behave yourself.' And then the policeman 
 takes him to prison, and locks him up." 
 
 "Oh I" said Bessie, looking at her sister 
 with great admiration, *' what a wise girl you 
 are! You know almost everything." 
 
 " I am going to try and learn a great deal 
 more, so I can tell everybody everything they 
 want to know," said Maggie. 
 
 " Maggie, do you think cook has been 
 'brought up in the way she should go'?" 
 
 " No, I don't," said Maggie. " No * way 
 she should go ' about it." 
 
 " Then do you think we ought to want her 
 to be punished ? " 
 
 " I don't want her to be punished," an- 
 swered Maggie ; " at least, not much. But 
 you see she ought to be. Anyhow, we must 
 tell mamma, and she'll know what is best." 
 
 " But how can we say that word ? " said 
 Be'«iitj. 
 
The Peach-Stones, i6i 
 
 ** I'll tell you," said Maggie,- after a mo- 
 ment's thought. " You say half of it, Bes- 
 sie, and I'll say the rest. I'll say the first 
 half." 
 
 "Well," said Bessie, with a long sigh. " I 
 suppose we'll have to. Let's go and do it 
 quick then. I don't like to think about it." 
 
 Maggie laid Flossy down upon the soft mat 
 at the foot of the stairs, and hand in hand, 
 she and Bessie went up to their mother's room. 
 Now it so happened that Mrs. Bradford had 
 been passing through the upper hall as the 
 little girls sat talking below. She stopped for 
 a moment to see what they were doing, and 
 heard Maggie tell Bessie about the lawyer. 
 They did not see or hear her, and she would 
 not wait to listen, though she was sure, from 
 the sound of their voices that they were in 
 trouble, but passed on to her room, where her 
 sister Annie and Mrs. Rush were sitting. She 
 n 
 
x62 Bessie in the City, 
 
 told them what Maggie had said, at which 
 they were very much amused. 
 
 " Something has happened to distress them," 
 said Mrs. Bradford, " and I suppose 1 shalJ 
 soon hear of it. If they come up with any 
 droll story, do not laugh, as it seems to be a 
 serious matter to them." 
 
 Mrs. Rush and Annie Stanton promised to 
 keep sober faces if possible ; but they did not 
 know how much their gravity was to be tried. 
 A moment later, the children came in, and 
 with grave, earnest looks walked directly to 
 their mother. 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie, '^ we have some- 
 thing dreadful to tell you." 
 
 " Such a shocking thing ! " said Bessie ; 
 " hut we liave to tell you." 
 
 *' That is right, my darUngs," said mamma. 
 " If you have done anything wrong, tell me at 
 once, and I will forgive you." 
 
The Peach-Sto7ies, 163 
 
 ** It was not us, mamma. It was the new 
 cook. Tell her quick, Maggie." 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie, almost in a whis- 
 per, " she called us little dev' — " 
 
 " 'ul," said Bessie. 
 
 "'s — s — s — s !" said Maggie. 
 
 Down went Aunt Annie's face into the sofa- 
 pillows, while Mrs. Kush turned quickly to- 
 ward the window to liide hers. Mrs. Bradford 
 coughed, and put her hand over her mouth, 
 but it was all useless ; and Annie's merry 
 laugh was ringing in the children's astonished 
 ears. 
 
 Maggie colored all over, and the tears came 
 in her eyes, while Bessie, with cheeks almost 
 as red, turned angrily to her aunt. 
 
 " You oughtn't, you oughtn't ! " she said ; 
 *' It is not a thing to laugh at. It was a 
 shocking, shocking word." 
 
 "My darling," began mamma, then she, 
 
164 Bessie in the City, 
 
 too, broke doTvn and laughed witli the other 
 ladles. 
 
 This was quite too much ; Bessie hid her 
 face on Maggie's shoulder, and both burst into 
 tears. Mamma was grave in a moment. She 
 lifted Bessie on her lap, and drew Maggie close 
 to her side. 
 
 '' My poor little ones," she said, " that was 
 too bad, but we did not mean to hurt your 
 feelings;" and she soothed and petted them 
 till they could look up again and dry their 
 tears. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," she said ; and 
 Bessie told her story with many a grieved sob, 
 ending with " And then she called us that 
 name, mamma," for she would not trust her- 
 self to repeat the words which had caused her 
 and Maggie so much distress. 
 
 Mrs. Bradford was much displeased with 
 the cook, and reproved her ; but the woman 
 
The Peach-Stofies. 165 
 
 was saucy, and as she made much trouble in 
 the kitchen, she sent her away. The children 
 were greatly surprised that no policeman came 
 for her,. and that she left the house quite qui- 
 etly, as if nothing extraordinary had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 About this time an end came to the wash- 
 ing of peach-stones, for, as tlie weather became 
 cool, mamma forbade Maggie and Bessie to 
 play with water. So the stones had at last a 
 chance to dry ; then Patrick cracked them, 
 and the children took out the kernels. Boil- 
 ing water was then poured over them, and 
 when it had cooled enough for small fingers, 
 the kernels were fished out ; and the skin 
 which the hot water had loosened was slipped 
 off by the little girls. After that mamma al- 
 lowed them to drop the blanched pits into the 
 jars of preserves ; and papa declared that no 
 peaches had ever tasted so good as those sweet- 
 
166 Bessie in the City. 
 
 meats which his Maggie and Bessie had helped 
 to make. They had collected thirteen hun- 
 dred peach-stones, and earned sixty-five cents, 
 which went into the "library-box" in mam- 
 ma's drawer. Maggie had hemmed four 
 towels, for which she had been paid twenty 
 cents. This, with papa's twenty-seven bright 
 pennies, made one dollar and twelve cents. 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE NEW GLOVES. 
 
 AGGIE and Bessie," said mamma one 
 morning, " I want to see your gloves. 
 It is a month to-day since you began to save 
 money for your library." 
 
 The gloves were soon brought, and mamma 
 examined them. 
 
 " Maggie, your second-best are too shabby 
 to be worn any more," said her mother, " you 
 must take the better ones for every day, and I 
 shall buy you a new pair." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I would rather keep the old 
 pair, and save the money," said Maggie,. 
 
 "No, dear; you know I told you I must 
 keep you as neat and well dressed as usual. 
 You must have what is necessary, and then 
 
1 68 Bessie in the City. 
 
 what is left of the dollar goes in youi 
 box." 
 
 " And how much will it take for new gloves, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 " About seventy-five cents. Then you have 
 had two boot-laces ; tliey are ten cents ; that 
 leaves fifteen cents out of the dollar. Bessie's 
 gloves will do, I think, and she has had one 
 boot-lace ; that leaves the whole of her dollar 
 except five cents. Maggie, you must have 
 taken great pains to use fewer laces. This is 
 a great improvement on last month." 
 
 But in spite of her mother's praise, Maggie's 
 face looked very long. Bessie had almost the 
 whole of her dollar, and but a few cents were 
 left of her own. 
 
 " Mamma," said Bessie, " I think Maggie 
 could not help it, if her second gloves are 
 pretty mussed. The other day Flossy yau 
 away with them, and before we could get them 
 
The New Gloves. 169 
 
 he had chewed one all up. And it was not 
 Maggie's carelessness, 'cause Jane put them 
 on the bed, and Flossy jumped up and pulled 
 them off. Couldn't you take a little of my 
 dollar to help to buy the new gloves, and let 
 Maggie keep some more of hers ? " 
 
 " That will not do," said mamma, smiling 
 at the generous little girl ; " but since it was 
 Flossy's fault that the gloves were spoiled, and 
 Maggie has taken so much pains, I will only 
 take out fifty cents for the new pair. And I 
 will tell you, Bessie, it is much harder for 
 Maggie to keep her things neat than it is 
 for you, and then she generally puts on her 
 own shoes, while nurse or Jane puts on 
 yours. Suppose next month I add another 
 twenty-five cents to her dollar ; are you will- 
 ing ? " . 
 
 " Course I am, mamma. I am just as glad 
 as anything. Isn't that nice, Maggie' ? '* 
 
170 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Maggie's face brightened. " And how 
 much have we now, mamma ? " she asked. 
 
 " Forty cents out of Maggie's dollar, and 
 ninety-five from Bessie's just make one dol- 
 lar, thirty-five cents. You have one dollar 
 and twelve cents in your box, which make in 
 all two dollars, forty-seven cents." 
 
 Maggie was quite happy when she found 
 they had such a sum, which mamma told 
 them was nearly half of what they wanted for 
 the library. 
 
 Grandmamma's carriage now drove to the 
 door, and she came in and asked Mrs. Brad- 
 ford to go out with her and take the children. 
 Mamma said she could not go herself, for 
 baby was not well, and she did not care to 
 leave her, but the children might go if grand- 
 mamma wished. Away they ran to be dressed, 
 full of glee, for shopping with grandmamma 
 was a great pleasure, and they were almost 
 
The New Gloves, 171 
 
 sure to come home richer than they went. 
 They drove to several places, and when the 
 children thought there was anything interest- 
 ing to be seen, they went into the store with 
 their grandmother. If not, they remained in 
 the carriage, and chatted with the coachman, 
 or watched the people passing in the street. 
 
 At last they went to a large store, where 
 Mrs. Stanton and Mrs. Bradford were in the 
 habit of going, and where Maggie and Bessie 
 felt quite at home. There was a good-natured 
 clerk, who was nurse's nephew, and whenever 
 he saw them, he was sure to have an empty 
 box with a picture cover, or a bright-colored 
 piece of paper or ribbon to give them. Here 
 grandmamma bought several things which 
 •did not much interest the little girls ; but 
 at last she took them to another counter, 
 where she said something to the clerk about 
 gloves. 
 
172 Bessie in the City. 
 
 "Why, grandmamma," said Maggie, "are 
 you going to buy gloves ? Do you know you 
 have a whole box full at home ? I saw them 
 the other day when you let me put your 
 drawer in order." 
 
 But Mrs. Stanton only smiled, and pinched 
 Maggie's round cheek, and just then the 
 gloves were put before them. Oh ! such 
 gloves as those were never meant for grand- 
 mamma's hand. Kid gloves they were too, 
 and who had ever seen any so small before ? 
 In her surprise and pleasure, Maggie had 
 almost forgotten that she had been forbidden 
 to handle anything when she went shopping ; 
 but just as her hand touched the gloves, she 
 remembered, and drew it back. But the good- 
 natured clerk gave them to her, telling her to 
 look at them if she pleased. 
 
 " Just like ladies' gloves," said Bessie, who, 
 stretching up on tiptoe, could just see abovu 
 
The New Gloves. 173 
 
 the counter. Grandmamma lifted her and 
 seated her upon it. 
 
 *' Do you call that a hand ? " said she, play- 
 fully, taking Bessie's little fingers in her own. 
 " Mr. Jones, have you a pair small enough for 
 that ? " 
 
 How Bessie wished her hand was larger as 
 the clerk shook his head ! But after looking 
 through the whole bundle, a pair was found 
 which grandmamma thought would do, and 
 then a pair for Maggie was picked out with 
 less trouble. They were wrapped in separate 
 parcels, and each child took her own, feeling 
 quite as if she must have grown taller since 
 she came to that counter. Then the clerk 
 gave them each a piece of fancy paper, — Mag- 
 gie's, gilt, with flowers stamped upon it, Bes- 
 sie's, blue, with silver stars. 
 
 As soon as they reached home, they ran to 
 show mamma their treasures, but Mrs. Brad- 
 
174 Bessie in the City, 
 
 ford noticed that Maggie did not seem half so 
 eager as usual, when she had received any 
 new pleasure. While Bessie was talking as 
 fast as her little tongue could go, she stood 
 almost silent at her mother's knee, drawing 
 her fingers slowly back and forth over her gilt 
 paper. 
 
 " What makes our Maggie so quiet ? " Mrs. 
 Bradford asked. " Are you not pleased with 
 your grandmother's pretty present, dear ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, mamma ! hut I was just consider- 
 ing about it a little." 
 
 " What were you considering ? " 
 
 " If it was quite fair for me to wear the 
 gloves, mamma. Do you think it is ? " 
 
 " Why should it not be fair, Maggie ? 
 Grandmamma gave you the gloves for your 
 own ; did she not ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am ; but then she did not 
 know you gave me glove allowance ; and may- 
 
The New Gloves, 175 
 
 be she would not have bought them for me if 
 she had known. And now you wont have to 
 get me another pair this month. So maybe 
 you wont think I ought to have the gloves 
 and the money too. I want to be quite very 
 fair, indeed, I do, mamma, and I didn't know 
 how to think it was quite right. Besides, 
 those gloves are nicer than the kind you buy 
 for us, and perhaps you would think you 
 ought to take a little more of my dollar for 
 them. If you would, I would rather have a 
 pair of the other kind, and put these away, 
 and let the money go in the library-box." 
 
 ''You may wear the gloves and welcome, 
 my dear, honest little girl," said Mrs. Brad- 
 ford, drawing Maggie to her, and kissing her. 
 ''It is quite fair for you to do so. Grand- 
 mamma knew that I gave you a certain sum 
 for your gloves and so forth, and I think she 
 meant to help you a little by buying these for 
 
1 76 Bessie in the City, 
 
 you. I am glad my darling child wishes to 
 be honest and upright in all she does. But I 
 must be quite fair too. I told you I should 
 give you so much a month, and take from it 
 what you needed for gloves and shoe-laces, and 
 whatever was left you might keep for another 
 purpose. Now since grandmamma has given 
 you these, there is no need for me to buy you 
 another pair ; but it would not be just for me 
 to take A'om you any part of the money they 
 would have cost. It is your gain, not mine. 
 When a bargain has been made, we must hold 
 to it, even though things turn out differently 
 from what was expected." 
 
 " But you need not hold to this bargain, if 
 you do not wish to, mamma." 
 
 '* Indeed, I do wish to, Maggie, and you 
 need not feel in the least troubled about it. I 
 am not only satisfied, but very glad that you 
 have received this little help." 
 
The New Gloves, 177 
 
 After this, Maggie's mind was at rest, and 
 she wore her new gloves with great pleasure. 
 
 " Hallo ! " said Fred, as he and Harry came 
 into the library that afternoon, and found 
 their little sisters quietly playing in one cor- 
 ner. " What scrumptious paper ! Where 
 did you get that, Midget ? " 
 
 " Mr. Jones, nurse's nephew, gave it to us,'* 
 Baid Maggie. " He gave me the gold piece, 
 and Bessie the silver piece, but we cut them 
 in two and each took half." 
 
 " I wish I could get hold of such friends 
 as you do," said Fred. " Somebody is always 
 giving you something. How do you manage 
 it?" 
 
 '' We don't manage it," said Bessie, who 
 thought that Fred meant to say that she and 
 Maggie liked their friends for what they gave 
 them. " We don't manage it, and we don't get 
 hold of them, Fred. Our friends give us 
 12 
 
17b Bessie tn the City, 
 
 things because they like to do it, and we never 
 ask for anything ; do we, Maggie ? " 
 
 " No," said Maggie, '* and you ought not to 
 talk so, Fred." 
 
 " I didn't mean to say anything," said he, 
 " but it is true ; is it not ? Are not people 
 always making you presents, and taking you 
 to places, and doing other things to give you 
 pleasure ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Maggie, " but they do it be- 
 cause they like us. If anybody loves anybody, 
 it is a pleasure to do a favor to them. We 
 think it is ; don't we, Bessie ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is it ; is it ? " said Fred. " Well 
 then, you love me ; don't you ? " 
 
 " Course we do, because you're our brother ; 
 and we'd love you a great deal more if you 
 didn't tease us, Fred." 
 
 ^' Well, if you love me, and it is such a 
 pleasure to do things for people you love, you 
 
The New Gloves, 179 
 
 can please yourselves very much by giving mo 
 some of this paper." 
 
 " Oh, we can't ; we want it ourselves," said 
 Maggie, while Bessie took up both pieces of 
 paper, and put her hands behind her, as if she 
 feared that Fred would run off with them. 
 
 *' Ho, ho," said he, '' then you love your- 
 selves better than you do me ? " 
 
 " Fred," said Mr. Bradford, who was sitting 
 on the other side of the room, " do not tease 
 your sisters." 
 
 " I did not mean to tease them, sir ; but as 
 Maggie thinks it so delightful to please peo- 
 ple whom one loves, I was only giving her a 
 chance to do it, and she don't seem to care to 
 take it. I say, Hal, wouldn't this paper be 
 jolly to make stars and things for our new 
 kites ? " 
 
 "First-rate," said Harry. "I'll tell you 
 what. Midget and Bess, will you sell it ? " 
 
tSo Bessie in the City, 
 
 " No," said Bessie, ratlicr crossly, " we 
 want it for dresses for our paper dolls. You 
 do tease us, and we want you to go away, 
 even if you say you don't mean to, and you 
 sha'n't — " Bessie stopped, and then went on 
 again in a pleasanter voice. "Please to 
 'sense me, Fred. I didn't mean to be so 
 cross, but we are so busy, and we'd yather you 
 wouldn't interyupt us." 
 
 These last words were said in a very polite 
 little manner, which rather amused the boys. 
 Fred had been ready with a sharp answer, 
 when Bessie began so angrily ; but now, when 
 he saw her check her quick temper, he was 
 ashamed to provoke her. 
 
 "Just as you choose," he said, "but you 
 are in such a way in these days to lay up 
 money for your mission-books that I thought 
 you would be willing enough to sell it." 
 
 " Children," said Mr. Bradford, again look 
 
The New Gloves, i8i 
 
 ing up from his writing, " if you cannot play 
 without disputing, I shall separate you. Fred, 
 your little sisters were quiet and happy before 
 you came in. Do not let me have to speak to 
 you again, my boy." 
 
 Now here was the consequence of having u, 
 bad character. Fred had not intended to vex 
 the children, but he was so in the habit of 
 teasing them that they were afraid of him, and 
 thought he meant it when he did not ; while 
 his father, who had not heard much of what 
 was passing, but who had been disturbed by 
 the fretful tone of Bessie's voice, took it for 
 granted that Fred was annoying her. But 
 Bessie was too honest to let him be blamed 
 when he had not deserved it. 
 
 ' Fred was not naughty, papa," she said 
 •' I'm 'fraid it was me. I was cross." 
 
 " Yery well," said her father, who thought 
 it best to let them settle the difficulty them 
 
l82 Bessie in the City, 
 
 selves, if thej could do it peaceably ; " only 
 let there be no more quarrelling." 
 
 " Suppose we go and finish our kites," 
 said Harry. Fred agreed, and the two boys 
 went away. 
 
 " Bessie," said Maggie, presently, " Fm 
 just of a good mind to give Harry a piece of 
 my paper." 
 
 *' For some pennies ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 *'No; mamma said it was not nice for 
 brothers and sisters to sell things to one 
 another ; and she don't want us to be too 
 anxious to get money, even for our library. 
 I'm just going to give it to him, 'cause that 
 day when he asked me for the shell, I said 
 I would sell it to him ; and then he'll see I 
 am not a miser." 
 
 " Well," said Bessie, " then I'll give Fred 
 a piece of mine, 'cause I was cross to him 
 just now." 
 
The New Gloves, 183 
 
 " Harry shall have my gold piece," said 
 Maggie, " and then we'll divide these two 
 'tween ourselves." 
 
 " So we will," said Bessie, ^' then we will 
 all have some. Maggie, you do fix every- 
 thing so nice." 
 
 Away they ran to their brothers' playroom. 
 
 " Holloa ! " said Fred, when he saw them ; 
 " we are not such plagues but that you had 
 to run after us, eh ? " 
 
 *' We came to bring you some of our pa 
 per," said Maggie. " This piece is for you, 
 Harry, and Bessie's is for Fred." 
 
 " Well, you are first-rate little chaps," said 
 Fred ; " and Hal and I will make each of 
 you a nice little kite ; see if we don't." 
 
 " Oh, Fred ! " said Bessie. 
 
 " What's the matter now ? Sha'n't you 
 like that ? " 
 
184 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Ladies are not chaps," said Bessie, grave- 
 ly, " and they don't play with kites." 
 
 " Oh, you're a big lady, aren't you ? " said 
 he, laughing. 
 
 '' I can be a lady if I'm not so very big. 
 Mamma says anybody can be a lady or a 
 gemperlum, if they are kind and polite, even 
 if they are very little, or even if they are 
 poor." 
 
 " Ah right," said Fred. " Then I suppose 
 that lady wont accept a kite from this gem- 
 perlum." 
 
 " Don't say it that way ; you must say 
 gem-per-lum." 
 
 " Well, don't I say gem-per-lum ? " 
 
 " That's not the way," said Bessie, her 
 color rising, for she knew that Fred was 
 laughing at her, and she thought it was hard. 
 
 " Fred," said Harry, '•' you are breaking 
 your resolution already." 
 
Bessie in City. 
 
 p. 184. 
 
The New Gloves. 185 
 
 " That is so. What a fellow I am ! " 
 
 '' Fred," said Bessie, '^ gemperlums don't 
 tease. Papa is- a gemperlum, and he never 
 teases." 
 
 " And mamma said Tom Norris was a per- 
 fect little gentleman, and he does not tease. 
 I guess gentlemen always ' do to others as 
 they would,' " said Maggie, who was very fond 
 of this line. 
 
 " They ought to if they do not," said Har- 
 ry, " and no one can say that you don't keep 
 that rule, Maggie." 
 
 " When people have angry passions, it's 
 very hard not to get in one when they're 
 teased," said Bessie. "Fred, I do have to try 
 so very, very hard." 
 
 Fred threw down his kite, and caught his 
 little sister in his arms. 
 
 " See if I plague you any more then," he 
 said. " I was just telling Harry I did not 
 
i86 
 
 Bessie in the City. 
 
 mean to do it, and the first thing, I am at it 
 again ; but I will try to remember, Bess. 
 Harry, if I forget again, I give you leave to 
 bring me up short the best way you can." 
 
 Fred kept his word, and after this, took 
 much pains to break himself of his provoking 
 habit. 
 
IX 
 
 TWO LOST PETS. 
 
 HAT night Maggie had a very bad 
 J earache. She tried to be patient, but 
 the pain was so severe that she could not help 
 crying, and could get no rest. Her father 
 and mother were up with her almost all night, 
 trying to give her ease ; but nothing did her 
 any good until towards morning, when she fell 
 into a troubled sleep. 
 
 " Margaret," said Mr. Bradford at the break- 
 fast-table, "• is that committee coming hero 
 this morning ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Mrs. Bradford. 
 
 " Mamma," said Bessie, " may I see it ? " 
 
 " See what, — the committee ? " 
 
 " Yes'm." 
 
1 88 Bessie in the City. 
 
 Mrs. Bradford smiled. ^'I do not think 
 you would care much about it, Bessie, and 
 the committee will be too busy with its own 
 affairs to care to see you." 
 
 •' Why, is it alive ? " asked Bessie, in great 
 surprise. 
 
 " To be sure," said Fred, before his mother 
 could answer ; '' did you never see one ? " 
 
 ** No," said Bessie, " could it bite me or 
 scratch me? " 
 
 " It could if it had a mind to," said Fred, 
 *' and — " He was stopped by Harry's hand 
 over his mouth. Fred drew back his head, 
 and looked angry. 
 
 " You gave me leave," said Harry. 
 
 "So I did," said Fred. "I beg your par- 
 don, Bess, for plaguing you once more. The 
 committee wont hurt you ; it's nothing but a 
 lot of ladies." 
 
 "You should beg your mother's pardon, 
 
Two Lost Pets, 189 
 
 also, for answering a question addressed to 
 her," said Mr. Bradford ; *^ it is a rude thing 
 to do. Come to me, Bessie." He took her 
 upon his knee, saying, " A committee is a 
 number of people who are appointed to attend 
 to some particular thing. You know that the 
 ladies in our church are going to make up 
 some clothing to send to the children at the 
 Five Points' Mission ; do you not ? " 
 
 "• Yes, papa." 
 
 " Well, several of these ladies have been 
 asked to make all the arrangements for the 
 meetings, and to have everything in order, so 
 that there may be no confusion when they 
 come together to sew ; and they are called a 
 committee. Your mamma is one of the com- 
 mittee, and the ladies are to come here this 
 morning. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 It was quite late when Maggie awoke, 
 
1 9© Bessie in the City, 
 
 long past breakfast-time, and after she was 
 dressed, she found her breakfast arranged 
 for her in the doll's tea-set, and Bessie ready 
 to wait upon her. But our poor little Mag- 
 gie could not enjoy even this very much ; 
 she was languid and quite tired out with 
 pain, and her troublesome ear would not let 
 itself be forgotten, so that she did not feel 
 much like play. Mamma took her on her 
 lap, rocked her, and read a new story-book, 
 which suited much better. 
 
 ^'I am sorry that I shall have to leave 
 you for a while, dear," she said. "If I had 
 known that I was to have a little sick girl 
 this morning, I would not have asked the 
 ladies to come here ; but as it is, I must go 
 down. I do not think I shall be away more 
 than an hour, and you will be patient ; will 
 you not? Nurse will take care of you.'' 
 
 " And I will yead to her," said Bessie. 
 
Two Lost Pets. 191 
 
 So when the ladies came, and mamma had 
 to go down-stairs, she laid Maggie on the 
 lounge and covered her up, while Bessie sat 
 down close beside her with " Yery Little 
 Tales," and "Susie's Six Birthdays." Jane 
 had taken Franky to the park, and nurse, 
 seeing Maggie so quiet and comfortable, 
 thought that she might leave her awhile. 
 
 " Baby's a bit fretful," she said, " and it's 
 a shame to keep her in the house this pleasant 
 day. I'll just take her on the sidewalk for a 
 little fresh air. I'll not go out of sight, just 
 up and down here a piece, and if Maggie 
 wants anything, you can come down and call 
 me, Bessie. I know you are to be trusted 
 not to get in mischief." 
 
 Bessie was rather proud of being left to take 
 care of Maggie, and willingly agreed to let 
 nurse go. The house seemed very still after 
 she had taken baby away. Bessie heard noth- 
 
102 Bessie in the City, 
 
 ing but the sound of her own sweet little voice 
 as she read " Susie," and presently, looking 
 up, she saw that Maggie was fast asleep. 
 
 Flossy lay on the foot of the lounge, rolled 
 up into a round ball, but with his bright eyes 
 wide open, watching Bessie. He had been 
 frisking about Maggie all the morning, try- 
 ing to coax her to a game of play, but he 
 found it was of no use. He did not under- 
 stand why his merry playmate should be so 
 quiet, nor did he approve of it. But he could 
 not help it, and so, like a wise dog, he seemed 
 to have made up his mind to bear it, tliough 
 he lay watching and listening for the least 
 sign of better times. 
 
 Bessie laid down her book, and sat look- 
 ing at Maggie. " My poor Maggie," she said 
 to herself, " she's so good and patient. I 
 wish I could do something for her, and I 
 wish Aunt Annie or somebody would come 
 
Two Lost Pets. 193 
 
 and see us and tell her a story while mam- 
 ma is down-stairs. Oh, I wish Colonel Yush 
 would come ; he tells us better stories than 
 any one. Wouldn't it be nice if he was to 
 come while Maggie is asleep ? and then she'd 
 see him when she wakes up, and she'd be 
 so glad. If he knew she was sick, I'm sure 
 he would come. I'll just go out on the side- 
 walk and ask nursey if she wont take mo 
 over to the hotel door, and then I'll go up 
 to my soldier's room and ask him to come 
 and see Maggie." 
 
 She rose up softly from her chair and went 
 into the nursery, followed by Flossy, who, be- 
 ing very wide awake himself, had no mind to 
 be left with the sleeping Maggie, and jumped 
 down from the lounge to run after Bessie as 
 soon as she stirred. Bessie went to the closet 
 and took down her garden-hat and sack 
 from the peg where they hung. The hat was 
 
 13 
 
194 Bessie in the City, 
 
 very shabby, for it had been worn all summef 
 at the seashore, and had seen some hard use 
 in the garden since she came home. But she 
 could not reach her best one, and said to her- 
 self that this would do, if nurse would only 
 let her wear it, of which she was not at all 
 sure. She put it on, walked down-stairs, and 
 out upon the front stoop; but she saw no 
 sign of nurse. Up and down the street she 
 looked, but the old woman was nowhere to be 
 seen. 
 
 Now the truth was, that nurse had not 
 intended to lose sight of the front-door, but 
 as she passed Mr. Hall's house. Miss Carrie 
 vv^as at the basement window, and calling her, 
 begged that she would bring the baby and 
 let her speak to her. Nurse, always proud to 
 show off her pet, was willing enough, and for 
 a few moments quite forgot her other nurs- 
 lings, as well as the open front-door ; and it 
 
Two Lost Pets, 195 
 
 was just during these few mcrments that 
 Bessie came out to look for her. 
 
 " Nurse said she wouldn't go far away," 
 said Bessie to herself, " and she has, and 
 now I can't go and find the colonel, 'cause 
 mamma wouldn't like me to go alone." 
 
 Flossy had run down to the foot of the 
 steps, and there he stood, wagging his tail, 
 whisking and frisking, and altogether behaving 
 like a puppy who had quite taken leave of his 
 senses, so glad was he to be out of doors. 
 
 " We can't go, Flossy," said Bessie, as, with 
 a sigh, she turned to go into the house. 
 <« We're \QiV^ disappointed, but we must mind 
 mamma. Come, Flossy, come. Don't you 
 leave me, Flossy." 
 
 But Flossy was not so obedient as his little 
 mistress, and instead of coming back, he ran 
 a short distance up the street, and then 
 stopped, barking joyously, and looking back 
 
196 Bessie in the City, 
 
 to see if slie were following. Bessie went 
 down the steps, calling him over and over 
 again in such a coaxing voice, that it was 
 strange even such a wilful doggie could resist. 
 But it was of no use. Away went Flossy as 
 fast as he could run, and frightened at the 
 thought of losing her pet, and forgetting 
 everything else, away went Bessie after him. 
 Up to the end of the hlock, around the corner, 
 and so down the other side of the square, till 
 they came to the long, crowded crossing, over 
 which Bessie was never allowed to go without 
 some grown person to hold her hand. Over 
 it went Flossy, in and out among the carriages 
 and omnibuses, escaping the wheels and the 
 horses' hoofs in a way that was quite wonder- 
 ful to see, until he reached the opposite corner, 
 where he again waited for Bessie. But poor 
 Bessie dared not cross by herself, and stood 
 still in great trouble. 
 
Two Lost Pets, 197 
 
 " I wish I was over at the hotel,'' she said 
 to herself, as she looked up at the great build 
 ing opposite, " and then the colonel would 
 take me home." 
 
 There was generally a tall policeman on 
 the corner, whom Bessie knew quite well, for 
 he had often taken her hand, and led her 
 over, or sometimes even carried her if the 
 stones were wet ; but now he was not there. 
 In his place was another, who was a stranger 
 to her, and now he came over to her corner 
 Bessie went up to him. 
 
 " Will you please tell me where my police 
 man is, sir ? " she said. 
 
 " Who is your policeman ? " said the officer. 
 
 " I don't know his name, but he takes me 
 over the crossing, and mamma don't 'low me 
 to go alone." 
 
 " I suppose I can take you over as well as 
 another," said he ; " but your mother must 
 
1 98 Bessie in the City. 
 
 be a queer one to allow you to go out alone 
 at all." 
 
 '' She didn't," said Bessie, " and I didn't 
 mean to, but Flossy yan away, and I went to 
 get him. Please take me over ; I am afraid 
 somebody will catch him ; then I'll go to the 
 colonel's yoom, and he'll take me home." 
 
 The policeman lifted lier up, and carried 
 her to the opposite sidewalk. Flossy was off 
 again as soon as he saw her near him, -but the 
 officer ran after him, and soon had him safe in 
 Bessie's arms. 
 
 '' And what are you going to do now ? " 
 said the good-natured man. '' You're over 
 small for running about the streets by your- 
 self." 
 
 " I am going to the colonel's," said Bessie. 
 " I know the way, and he'll take care of 
 me," 
 
 She thanked him, and ran off; but the 
 
Two Lost Pets, 199 
 
 policeman followed till he saw her go into the 
 hotel as if she were quite sure of her way. 
 
 " She's all right," he said to himself, and 
 then went back to his post, thinking no more 
 about the little stray lamb whom he had only 
 helped into farther trouble. 
 
 Bessie found her way without difficulty to 
 the colonel's room, and seeing the door open, 
 she peeped in. There was no one there but a 
 servant-woman, who was dusting. 
 
 " Where is my soldier ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 " Your soldier ? " said the woman. " If 
 you mean the lame gentleman, he and the 
 lady have gone out to ride. I don't want you 
 here bothering round with your dogs. Go 
 back to your own rooms ; " for the woman 
 supposed Bessie to be some child who belonged 
 Ln the hotel. 
 
 " My soldier lets me come in his yoom when 
 I choose, and it isn't yours to talk about,'* 
 
200 Bessie in the City, 
 
 said Bessie, very mucli offended, and she 
 walked away with her head very straight. 
 
 What should she do now ? She would go 
 back to the corner, she thought, and ask her 
 friend, the policeman, to take her home. But 
 she was becoming a little confused and fright- 
 ened with all her troubles, and when she left 
 the hotel, turned the wrong way. On she 
 went, farther and farther from home, though 
 she did not know it, and expected every mo- 
 ment to see the well-known crossing. Some 
 few people turned and looked at her, as she 
 passed with her dog clasped in her arms ; but 
 she did not act at all like a lost child, and it 
 was easy enough to think that she was some 
 little girl playing about her home and per- 
 haps watched by loving eyes. 
 
 At last she came near a broad avenue, where 
 the cars were passing up and down, and then 
 she knew she was not on her way home. Bui 
 
Two Lost Pets, 201 
 
 just then she heard music, and her eye was 
 caught by a new sight. Quite a crowd was 
 gathered upon the sidewalk, where were two 
 men, one with a hand-organ, the other with a 
 table on which little figures of gayly-dressed 
 men and women were spinning around. Bes- 
 sie stopped to look, standing back from the 
 crowd ; but three or four rough boys who were 
 hanging about took notice of her and her dog. 
 Presently they came up to her. 
 
 " Whose dog is that ? " asked one. 
 
 " Mine and Maggie's," said Bessie. 
 
 " You give him to me, and I'll give you 
 this," said the boy taking a large red apple 
 from his pocket. 
 
 " I can't even if I wanted to," said Bessie, 
 " 'cause he's half Maggie's." 
 
 " Well, you give me your half, and Maggie's 
 will run after it." 
 
 "No," said the little girl. "I wouldn't 
 
202 Bessie in the City, 
 
 give you my Flossy for fifty seventeen ap- 
 ples ; " and she walked away, but the boys 
 followed. 
 
 '^ Where did you get so much hat ? " said 
 one. 
 
 " It is not much," said Bessie. " It is old 
 and torn, 'cause I carried peach-pits and 
 stones in it. Mamma is going to give it 
 away." 
 
 " I don't know who'd thank her for it," 
 said another. " I guess your ma spent all her 
 money on your frock, and left none for your 
 hat." 
 
 " She didn't," said Bessie, angrily ; " she 
 has plenty left." 
 
 " She's right stingy, then, to give you such a 
 hat ; it's only fit for the gutter, so here goes ! " 
 and the rude boy twitched off the unlucky 
 hat, and sent it flying into the middle of the 
 street, where a car passed over it. Bessie did 
 
Two Lost Pets, 203 
 
 not care much about her hat, but she was 
 frightened and displeased. 
 
 '' You are very yude," she said, " and 1 
 wont walk by you. You sha'n't talk so about 
 my mamma.'*' 
 
 " Maybe we'll walk by you though," said 
 the boy, and they kept by her side for a few 
 steps farther, when suddenly, with a loud 
 yelp of pain. Flossy sprang from her arms, 
 for one of the boys had pinched his tail so as 
 to hurt him very much. The boys shouted, 
 Flossy ran, they after him, and the next mo- 
 ment one of them caught him up, and they 
 all disappeared with him round the corner. 
 
 Bessie ran on a few steps and then stood 
 still, crying loudly with terror and distress. 
 Several persons immediately stopped, asking 
 her what ailed her, and if she were lost ; but 
 she only called, " Oh, Flossy, Flossy ! oh, 
 mamma ! oh, Maggie." 
 
204 Bessie in the City* 
 
 Among the people who stopped, was an old 
 lady, wlio looked at Bessie through her specta- 
 cles in rather a severe manner, and as sho 
 asked questions in a quick, sharp way, tho 
 little girl felt afraid of her, and would not an- 
 swer. Poor lost baby ! There she stood, 
 bareheaded, with the wind blowing her curls, 
 her tiny hands over her face, crying so piti- 
 fully that some of those who stood by felt as 
 if they must cry with her, but still no one 
 could get a word from her. 
 
 But presently a policeman came by, and 
 Bessie, looking up, saw him and was a little 
 comforted ; for though he, too, was a stranger, 
 she felt somehow as if every policeman was a 
 friend ; and she ceased her loud cries, though 
 her sobs still came heavy and fast. 
 
 " Here's a lost child," said one of the crowd. 
 
 " Please take me home, sir," said Bessie, 
 stretching out her liands to him. 
 
Two Lost Pets, 205 
 
 The tall officer was pleased, and, stooping, 
 lifted the little creature in his arms. 
 
 " Where do you belong ? " he asked, kindlj. 
 
 " In mamma's house," said Bessie. 
 
 " And where is mamma ? " 
 
 " In a committee," answered the child. 
 
 '' Humph ! " said the old lady, who stood 
 close at the policeman's side, " in a commit- 
 tee, with a parcel of other foolish women, I 
 suppose, while her babies go running wild 
 about the streets. She'd better attend to her 
 own affairs." 
 
 " She hadn't," said Bessie, who thought 
 every one had something to say against her 
 own dear mother, — " she hadn't, and you are 
 naughty to say that. She's a nice, pretty lady, 
 and better than anybody, and not a bit foolish ; 
 and, oh, I do want her so, I do want her so 1 " 
 and she began to cry afresh. 
 
 '' There then, never mind ! " said the police- 
 
20() Bessie in the City. 
 
 m'hn ; " we'll find her pretty soon. Can't you 
 tell me where you live ? " 
 
 Bessie had long since been taught this, but 
 now, in her fright and distress, she quite for- 
 got the street and number of the house, and 
 only shook her head. 
 
 " Tell me your name then," said the man. 
 
 ''Bessie — Yush — Byad-ford," sobbed the 
 child. 
 
 " Brightford — Brightford," repeated tho 
 policeman. " Does any one here know any 
 people of the name of Brightford ? " 
 
 Poor little Bessie ! Between her sobs and 
 the difficulty of pronouncing her r's, the officer 
 had quite mistaken the name, and no one 
 answered. 
 
 " You'll have to take her to the station- 
 house," said the old lady. 
 
 '' Oh, no, Mr. Policeman ! Pm not to be 
 taken up, — indeed, I'm not," said Bessie. " I 
 
Two Lost Pets, 207 
 
 wasn't naughty, and mamma wont say so, 
 only Flossy yan away, and tlio colonel wasn't 
 in his yoom, and I can't find my street." 
 
 "Poor baby!" said the policeman, as he 
 felt her trembling in his arms. '' Nobody 
 shall hurt you, my child ; but if your people 
 miss you, they will send up to the station, and 
 if I take you there, they will find you right 
 off. You can't tell where your mamma lives, 
 hey ? " 
 
 " I sha'n't talk about my mamma," said 
 Bessie ; " everybody says naughty things about 
 her ; but I want to go to her, and please find 
 Flossy, Mr. Policeman." 
 
 " Who is Flossy ? " asked he. 
 
 " He's her dog, I guess," said a boy who 
 stood by. " Four big fellows ran away with 
 him. I se'ed 'em. They cut up the alley, and 
 down by the back lots. I guess you must cotch 
 'em in a hurry, or see no more of the pup." 
 
2o8 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Don't you believe that," said the police- 
 man, as Bessie's tears and sobs came taster 
 than ever. " We'll find him for you one of 
 these days; but now I must see you safe ;" 
 and he moved on with the little girl in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Do you think some one will come and 
 find me pretty soon ? " she asked. 
 
 '' To be sure they will. Have you a pa- 
 pa?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 ''Then you be sure when he finds you are 
 gone, he'll come right off to the station-house 
 to see if you are there. Why, the other day I 
 picked up a little chap in the street not nigh 
 as big as you. He could scarce walk, and 
 couldn't speak a word plain, and tliere, when 
 I got him to the station, was his mother wait- 
 ing for him." 
 
 So the officer talked on kindly and pleasant- 
 
Two Lost Pets, 209 
 
 ly, till Bessie was a little comforted, and wliea 
 they reached the station, looked eagerly round 
 to see if any of her own friends were there 
 awaiting her. But no, there was no one there 
 yet, only several policemen were sitting or 
 standing about, to one of whom Bessie's pro- 
 tector spoke, telling him where he had found 
 her. ^ 
 
 *' And now I am going back to my beat," 
 he said to the child, ''and if any one comes 
 that way looking for you, I'll send them right 
 up here." 
 
 Bessie's lip began to tremble once more. 
 She had been terribly disappointed to find 
 that no one was waiting for her ; and now 
 here was her new friend going away, and leav- 
 ing her with these strangers. 
 
 " Don't you cry any more," said the second 
 policeman, taking her from the arms of the 
 first. " Why, those brown eyes of yours are 
 14 
 
2IO Bessie in the City, 
 
 almost washed out. Come along with me, and 
 see me send off a telegraph message to the 
 other stations to say you're here." 
 
 " I couldn't help crying," said the little girl. 
 " I had so many troubles to-day." 
 
 " Bless your heart ! " said the sergeant. 
 " You shall tell me all about them presently. 
 Why, you are just about the size of my Jenny, 
 and I wouldn't like to see her looking that 
 way." 
 
 When the policeman spoke of telling him 
 her troubles, it came into Bessie's mind that 
 she had not told them to her Father in 
 heaven, and covering her face with her lit- 
 tle hands, she whispered, "Dear Father in 
 heaven, please let my own home father come 
 and find me very soon, 'cause I'm so tired, and 
 I want my own mamma ; and don't let those 
 naughty boys hurt my Flossy, and let papa 
 find him too." 
 
Two Lost Pets, 211 
 
 Tho officer heard the low, soft whisper so 
 close to his ear, though she had not meant he 
 should. " Bless her ! '* he said to himself, *' 1 
 guess her father'll be brought along pretty 
 soon after that." 
 
 Bessie was now quite interested in watching 
 the working of the telegraph wires which were 
 put in motion to carry the message that a 
 stray child was to be found at this station. 
 One of the men who had gone out came back, 
 bringing her a cake and an apple, but though 
 it was long past her usual dinner hour, she 
 could not eat. 
 
 " Now," said the sergeant, sitting down and 
 putting her upon his knee, " let us hear all 
 about those troubles of yours;" for the kind 
 man thought if he could make her talk of her- 
 Bolf, ho might find out where she belonged. 
 
^^^^i^^^i^^^Gy 
 
 X. 
 
 HOME 'AGAIN I HOME AGAIN! 
 
 EANWHILE the stray birdling had 
 been missed from the home-nest, and 
 great was the trouble and alarm there. 
 Nurse, coming in, found Maggie at the 
 head of the stairs with a discontented face. 
 
 " What's happened ye ? " she asked ; " and 
 what are ye standing here in the draught for ? 
 Go back to the nursery, my honey." 
 
 " I can't find Bessie," said Maggie. '' I 
 went to sleep, and when I woke up, she was 
 gone, and Flossy was gone too, and I looked 
 all over, and they are not here." 
 
 " She hasn't taken wings, and flown away," 
 said nurse. ^' You mind baby a moment, and 
 I'll hunt her up for you." 
 
Home Again. 213 
 
 Nurse hunted in vain, and at last told Mag- 
 gie she thought Bessie must have found her 
 way into the parlor, where the ladies were 
 talking. " She'll soon tire of it, and come 
 back to you," she said ; " but it was not like 
 her to go off and leave you," 
 
 But the time passed on ; Jane came in with 
 Franky ; the children's dinner-bell rang, and 
 still Bessie did not come. At last the ladies 
 of the committee went away, and mamma 
 came out of the parlor, but no little girl 
 was with her. Then the whole house was 
 searched, up-stairs and down, from cellar to 
 attic ; but the pet was not found. 
 
 " Could her grandmamma or aunt or Mrs. 
 Rush have come and taken her out ? " said 
 Jane. 
 
 " They would not be so thoughtless ; they 
 would know I should be anxious if they left no 
 
214 Bessie in the City. 
 
 word," said Mrs. Bradford, who was growing 
 very much alarmed. 
 
 " No one came in ; for I did not have my 
 eyes off the front-door wliile I was out on the 
 sidewalk," said nurse. " Yes, I did, too, just 
 a couple of minutes while I spoke to Miss 
 Hall; but no one could have come in and 
 gone out, too, without my seeing them." 
 
 Ah, nurse, nurse, it was just those two min- 
 utes when you forgot your duty, which did all 
 the mischief. 
 
 " And there's her hat," said Jane, looking 
 in the box. " Ah, there's her garden hat and 
 sack gone. Now maybe she's just run out 
 after you, nurse, and somebody's caught her 
 and run away with her when you wasn't look- 
 ing. I've heard of such things, and how they 
 make 'em beg, and beat 'em and frighten 'em 
 so they don't dare tell where they belong." 
 
 This was very pleasant for the poor anxious 
 
Ho7ne Again, 215 
 
 mother, who, however, told Jane that was non- 
 sense ; while nurse, who knew she was to 
 blame in letting her attention be called off, 
 grew very angry and scolded Jane, saying she 
 must have seen Bessie if she left the house. 
 
 Nevertheless, Bessie was certainly not in the 
 house ; and one servant was sent to grandmam- 
 ma's, another to the hotel, to see if any trace 
 could be found of the missing treasure ; while 
 Mrs. Bradford herself ran to all the neighbors, 
 and poor Maggie stood by the window crying 
 bitterly for her lost sister. In a little time 
 grandmanima and Aunt Annie were on the 
 spot, as anxious as the rest, to see if they could 
 help in the search. As people were running 
 in all directions, it seemed to grandmamma 
 that the best thing she could do was to comfort 
 poor, distressed Maggie. But Maggie was not 
 to be comforted, and declared that she knew 
 she should never, never, never see Bessie 
 
2i6 Bessie in the City, 
 
 again. " Oh, I am so very sorry I went to 
 sleep," she sobbed. " 1 just expect she went 
 to heaven in a chariot of fire when no one was 
 looking." Grandmamma could not smile at 
 Maggie's strange idea, she was so anxious her 
 self, but she told her this could not be so ; and 
 that Bessie had probably run out in the street 
 and so lost her way. 
 
 " But Bessie would not do such a thing, 
 grandmamma; she would know mamma would 
 not like it, and she never disobeys her." 
 
 " Perhaps your mother never told her she 
 was not to go out alone, dear, and so she was 
 tempted to run a few steps, and then could 
 not find her way back." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed, grandmamma. Bessie 
 knew quite well mamma would not wish us to 
 go alone even if she did not say so ; and she 
 would think it was just the same; and Bessie 
 never falls into temptation except about pas 
 
Home Again. 217 
 
 sions. If it was me, maybe I might; and I 
 know she'll never come back ; and oh, I can- 
 not do without her, we are so very intimate, 
 grandmamma." 
 
 Grandmamma said she was almost sure 
 Bessie would soon be found, and told Maggie 
 how well everything was arranged at the police- 
 stations, so that if a little child was lost, it 
 could soon be restored to its friends. Still 
 Maggie only shook her head sorrowfully, feel- 
 ing it quite impossible to believe that Bessie 
 had gone away of her own free will. 
 
 Then Mrs. Bradford came in, looking very 
 pale and troubled, for she could hear nothing 
 of her lost baby ; but a moment after, Patrick 
 came with news. The policeman at the corner 
 told how he had helped a little girl over the 
 crossing, and seen her safe in the hotel and 
 that she had said she was going to see tho 
 colonel ; but that he could tell nothing far- 
 
2i8 Bessie in the City. 
 
 ther. Patrick had gone to the colonel's rooms, 
 but they were closed and locked ; and he 
 heard that the colonel and Mrs. Rush had 
 been out for a long while. 
 
 Hearing this, Mrs. Bradford and her sister 
 went round to the hotel, and giving the alarm, 
 the great building was searched from top to 
 bottom. Every room and closet, every hall 
 and corridor, even the roof, and the cellar far 
 underground where the gas was made, were 
 looked througli ; but still no Bessie. But 
 when the servants were questioned, the woman 
 who had spoken to Bessie told how she had 
 come to the colonel's room, and then walked off. 
 
 " She has probably wandered out again, 
 madam," was said to the pale mother by one 
 of the gentlemen who had been helping in the 
 search ; " and now you had better at once 
 send to the police-station, and give notice of 
 her loss." 
 
Home Again, 219 
 
 As Mrs. Bradford was leaving the hotel to 
 do this, the colonel and' Mrs. Rush drove up. 
 In two minutes they had heard all that was 
 known, and the colonel said he would him- 
 self go to the station. 
 
 The station to which Bessie had been taken 
 was not the one nearest to- Mr. Bradford's 
 house ; and it was to the latter that the colonel 
 drove first. He did not find his lost pet there, 
 of course ; but he heard that a telegram had 
 come sometime since, saying that a stray 
 
 child was at the station in Street, and 
 
 there he went as fast as his horse's feet could 
 carry him. 
 
 We left the Uttle girl who had caused all 
 this commotion sitting upon the knee of the 
 kind sergeant of police, while he coaxed her 
 to tell him the story of her troubles, in the 
 hope that he might find out where sue be- 
 longed. 
 
220 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " You don't look big enouglr for such a 
 many troubles," he said ; " now let's hear 
 about them, and see what we can do. What 
 was the first one ? " 
 
 " First Maggie had a earache and cried ; 
 and then mamma had a committee, and had 
 to leave us ; and then I could not find nurse, 
 and Flossy yan away," said Bessie ; and the 
 poor child began to cry again at the thought 
 of Flossy. 
 
 " And who is Flossy ? " asked the sergeant. 
 
 " He is our puppy that Donald gave us, — 
 Maggie's and mine." 
 
 " And who is Maggie ? " 
 
 " My own sister ; don't you know that ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I did not," said the policeman. 
 " What is her name ? " 
 
 " Maggie Stanton Byadford," said the child. 
 
 " And what is yours ? " 
 
 '' Bessie Yush Byadford." 
 
Home Agahu 221 
 
 The policeman shook his head ; still he 
 could make nothing of the name. 
 
 " And when Flossy ran away, you ran after 
 him, did you ? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, but I didn't mean to, sir; I forgot 
 mamma wouldn't- want me to, and Flossy yan 
 so fast. He went 'way over the long crossing, 
 and our policeman was not there." 
 
 " Who's your policeman ? " 
 
 "I don't know his name, only he helps us 
 over the long crossing, when we want to go to 
 the hotel." 
 
 " Ho, ho, I think we are coming at it," said 
 the sergeant. " What hotel is that ? " 
 
 " Why, the hotel where the colonel lives," 
 said Bessie, as if there could be but one hotel 
 and one colonel. " I thought mamma would 
 not like me to go home by myself, and I asked 
 that other policeman wliom I did not know to 
 take me over, so I could go ask the colonel to 
 
222 Bessie in the City, 
 
 send mo home. But he was out, and a 
 woman scolded me, and so I went away, and 
 the crossing wouldn't come, and the boys were 
 naughty and yude, and Flossy's gone — oh, 
 dear ! oh, dear ! I do want my own house 
 and my own mamma ; and everybody said 
 naughty things about mamma." 
 
 " There, then, don't cry any more," said 
 the policeman. " I think that must be the 
 hotel, and you can't tell me what street you 
 live in ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I can," said Bessie, who quite 
 forgot that she had not been able to tell where 
 she lived while she had been so frightened. 
 " I live in papa's house in Street, Num- 
 ber — , and I want to go home so much." 
 
 " So you shall, right off, now that you have 
 told me where you belong," said the police- 
 man. " I'll send, and see if you are right." 
 
 But just as he turned to speak to one of 
 
Home Agam. 223 
 
 the men, an open carriage drove quickly to 
 the door. Bessie looked around, then gave 
 a scream of joy. 
 
 " Oh, it's my soldier, my own dear soldier ! 
 He came and found me — oh, he did, he did !" 
 
 In less time than it would have been 
 thought possible, the colonel had been helped 
 out, and was within the room. Bessie almost 
 sprang out of the policeman's arms, and clung 
 about the colonel's neck, while he, dropping 
 one crutch, steadied himself on the other, 
 and held her fast with the arm that was free. 
 It was touching to see, as, half laughing, half 
 crying, she poured out broken words of love 
 and joy, now covering his face with kisses, 
 now burying her own on his shoulder, then 
 lifting it again to lay her soft cheek to his and 
 pat it with her tiny hand. Colonel Rush was 
 almost as much overjoyed as she, but he was 
 in haste to carry the recovered treasure to her 
 
2 24 Bessie in the City, 
 
 anxious mother. Nor was Bessie in less haste 
 to be at home ; but for all that, she did not 
 forget to speak her thanks to those who had 
 been kind to her, going from one to another, 
 and shaking hands with them in her own 
 polite little way. The sergeant carried her 
 out and put her in the carriage. 
 
 *' Good-by," she said, giving him her hand, 
 *' I am very much obliged to you for letting 
 me come in your nice station-house, and for 
 speaking so kind to me." 
 
 " Bless your heart," said the man, " if it 
 wasn't for your own sake, I'd be sorry enough 
 to part with you. Now don't you go and lose 
 yourself again." 
 
 *' I did not lose myself," said Bessie ; *' I 
 just came lost, I did not mean to do it.'* 
 
 " I don't believe you did," said the man ; 
 " good-by to you." 
 
 Then the colonel put something into his 
 
Home Again, 225 
 
 hand, and thcj drove homo as fast as possible. 
 Oh, what joy thcro was over the little darling 
 who had been so long away ! Mamma held 
 her fast and cried over her; it seemed as if 
 she could never let her go out of her arms 
 again ; Maggie jumped about and clapped her 
 hands, and kissed Bessie's face, hands, dress, 
 and even her feet ; Franky did as he saw 
 Maggie do, saying, '' Bessie tome, all nice 
 now." Grandmamma, Aunt Annie, and Mrs. 
 Rush were quite as much rejoiced, and the 
 very servants had to take part in the welcome. 
 Even the new cook, whom the children scarce- 
 ly knew, had to come in for a peep at the dear 
 little cause of all this excitement. Then 
 papa, who had been sent for, that he might 
 help in the search for his lost daughter, came 
 •liome to find the sorrowino; changed into re- 
 joicing, and Bessie running to the front- door 
 to meet him, saying, — 
 15 
 
226 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " I am quite found papa. I asked our 
 Father to let you find me, and he sent the 
 colonel instead, but that was just as good 
 when he brought me home ; wasn't it ? " 
 
 " Quite as good, perhaps even better, dar- 
 ling, since dear mamma was spared another 
 hour of anxiety, and you one of waiting. 
 Our heavenly Father often does better for us 
 than we ask, although we may not always 
 know it." 
 
 " And you don't think I was naughty; do 
 you, papa ? Mamma does not." 
 
 " I must hear the story first ; but now let 
 me thank our good, kind colonel, who has 
 put himself to some trouble I am sure, to find 
 you." 
 
 When Mr. Bradford had heard Bessie's 
 story, which she told in her own straightfor- 
 ward way, he satisfied her by saying that he 
 did not think her in the least naughty, since 
 
Home jigatn. 227 
 
 he was sure she had not meant to disobey. 
 Ho would not consent that grandmamma and 
 Aunt Annie, and Colonel and Mrs. Rush 
 should go home to dinner ; tliey must all stay 
 and have a great jubilee over the happy 
 ending to Bessie's adventures. And oh, such 
 a pleasure ! The children were allowed to 
 take dinner with the grown people, a treat 
 which was only granted on great occasions. 
 
 " It's just like the man in the Bible, who 
 lost his sheep and found it, and called all his 
 friends to come and be glad, and have a nice 
 time with him," said Maggie, " only we're a 
 great deal more glad than that man, be- 
 cause our Bessie is a great deal better than 
 the sheep, and we don't have ninety and nine, 
 either." 
 
 " No," said papa, " we have only one Bessie 
 and one Maggie, and a very good Maggie and 
 Bessie they are of their kind. I would not 
 
228 Bessie in the City, 
 
 change them for any otliers that could be 
 offered to me. How is the ear, Maggie ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's 'most well, papa. When I felt so 
 bad about Bessie, I forgot about it, and when 
 I was so glad, the pain just went away before 
 I knew it." 
 
 " So the greater trouble cured the lesser, 
 eh?" .^ 
 
 " But, papa," said Bessie, " we have a great, 
 great trouble with all our happiness. You 
 know Flossy is quite lost, and we'll never have 
 him to play with again." 
 
 " I am not sure about that," said Mr. Brad- 
 ford ; " I shall go to-morrow and see what I 
 can do to find him. Still I have not much 
 hope, and you must not think too much about 
 it." 
 
 " You mean you will do all you can, papa," 
 said Bessie, sorrowfully, " but probaly we will 
 never see our dear Flossy again." 
 
Home Again, 229 
 
 " Never mind, Bessie," said Maggie, ten- 
 derly ; " it is not very much matter if we don't. 
 We have you back again, so we've no reason 
 to complain." 
 
 Dear, generous-hearted little Maggie ! She 
 would not say how badly she felt about Flossy, 
 lest Bessie should think she blamed her for 
 his loss, but it was a great trial to her, as her 
 father knew. She was more fond of him than 
 Bessie was, and Flossy cared more for her 
 than he did for any one else. Never were 
 two merrier playfellows, and their droll antics 
 and frolics were a source of great amusement 
 to the whole family. And now he was gone, 
 perhaps never to come back ; and Maggie's lit- 
 tle heart was very ,sore, though she said noth- 
 ing of her grief. Thoughtless she often was, 
 but never where Bessie was concerned ; she 
 never forgot her little sister's happiness or- 
 comfort, and would bear anything herself if so 
 
230 Bessie in the City* 
 
 she might keep harm or trouble from Bessie. 
 Her father knew this, and why she spoke as if 
 she did not care much about Flossy, and he 
 loved her the better for it, for he saw that it 
 was hard work for her to keep back the tears. 
 He put his arm about her, and kissed her ten- 
 derly, as he began to talk of other things. 
 
 Quite late that night, when Mrs. Bradford 
 went up-stairs, she heard a low sobbing from 
 the room opening out of her own, where Mag- 
 gie and Bessie slept, each in her own pretty 
 little bed. 
 
 " What is it, my darling ? " she asked, go- 
 ing in. " Is your ear feeling badly again ? " 
 
 " Not so very, mamma," said Maggie, " but 
 — please put your head down close, mamma, 
 so Bessie wont wake up — I do feel so very, 
 very badly about Flossy. If I knew somebody 
 had him who would be kind to him, I think I - 
 could try to bear it, but I know they will hurt 
 
Home Agam. 231 
 
 him and tease him, and he'll have nuch a hard 
 time. I know he'll be homesick, too — oh, 
 dear — and I can't go to sleep, 'cause I think 
 so much about him, and I don't want Bessio 
 to know it." 
 
 Mamma sat down on the bed and comforted 
 Maggie, and then, holding her hand, began to 
 tell her a story which she took care not to 
 make too interesting, until presently the little 
 hand which held her own loosened its grasp, 
 and Maggie's regular breathing showed that 
 she had forgotten her trouble. 
 
 All this made Mr. Bradford resolve that 
 he would spare no pains to recover Flossy, 
 and the next morning he went to the police- 
 station, and asking the name and beat of the 
 man who had brought in his little daughter, 
 went in search of him. He was soon found, 
 and told wnere he had met Bessie ; but he 
 had been able to learn nothing of the lost dog. 
 
232 Bessie in the City. 
 
 ^[r. Bradford inquired all about the neiglibor* 
 hood ill vain ; the boys whom he met either 
 could not or would not answer his questions. 
 He offered a reward to whoever could tell 
 anything that would lead to the recovery of 
 the dog, and when he went down town, put 
 an advertisement in the papers saying the 
 same thing. 
 
 But three days passed, and still no word 
 came of Flossy. On the fourth morning, the 
 family were all at breakfast, when Patrick, who 
 was passing through the hall, heard a scratch- 
 ing and whining at the front-door. He hur- 
 ried to open it, and Flossy rushed in, ran 
 through the hall into the breakfast-room, and 
 before any one had recovered from their first 
 rsurprise, scrambled into Maggie's lap, buried 
 iiis face under her arm, and lay trembling and 
 'whimpering with joy. Poor little fellow ! he 
 isfasia.a sad state. His glossy silken coat was 
 
Hofne Again, 233 
 
 all matted and dirty ; he looked thin and half- 
 starved ; his pretty red collar, with its brass 
 lettering, was gone, and around his neck the 
 hair was rubbed off, as if it had been worn by 
 a rope, and his mouth was cut and bleeding. 
 Papa said he tliought he had been tied up, 
 and in his struggles to free himself, had 
 worn the hair from his neck, and cut his 
 mouth with gnawing at the rope. 
 
 The children cried and laughed over him 
 by turns, hugged and kissed him, and al- 
 though it was against mamma's rules to feed 
 him in the dining-room, begg'ed that they 
 might do it for this once. Permission was 
 given, and then they wanted to stuff him 
 with everything that was on the table ; but 
 mamma said they must be careful, or he 
 would be sick, so a saucer of warm bread and 
 milk was brought and put on the hearth, and 
 
234 Bessie in the Gtty. 
 
 glad enougli the poor puppy was to have it. 
 But he would not eat unless Maggie's hand 
 was on him, and every now and then he would 
 stop to look up in her face with . a low whine, 
 as if he wanted to tell her his pitiful story. 
 Afterwards he was well washed, and then, 
 wrapped in his blanket, went to sleep in Mag- 
 gie's lap. He woke up quite refreshed, but 
 for a day or two, did not care to play much, 
 content to lie most of the time in Maggie's or 
 Bessie's arms, or curled up in a ball in some 
 comfortable corner. But after this long rest, 
 and several good meals, to say nothing of a 
 great amount of petting, he began to bark 
 and act like himself, and was once more the 
 bright, merry, affectionate plaything he had 
 been before. 
 
 Where he had been, or how he had escaped 
 from those who had treated him so cruelly, 
 
Home Again, 235 
 
 was never known, but every one thought it 
 quite wonderful that so young a dog, and one 
 who had been such a short time in the house, 
 could have found his way home alone. 
 
WWWWWWWWWWi 
 
 XI 
 
 I^BW PLAINS. 
 
 HINGS went very smoothly and pleas- 
 antly after this for several weeks. 
 Maggie finished the whole number of towels, 
 and she had taken so much pains, and they 
 were so well done for a little girl of seven, that 
 mamma said she thought she must give her six 
 cents apiece instead of five. Bessie's small 
 patient fingers were learning to do nicely, too, 
 and Mrs. Bradford said she should soon have 
 two neat young seamstresses. There were now 
 more than four dollars in the box. They had 
 each had one new pair of gloves bought for 
 them, and it was not likely, if these were not 
 lost, that more would be wanted before New 
 Year. Maggie had improved surprisingly in 
 
New Plans. 237 
 
 the matter of boot-laces, and now did not 
 wear them out much faster than Bessie, who 
 did not put on her own shoes. Growing daily 
 more careful in this one thing, she became so 
 in others. Fewer buttons and strings were 
 dragged from her clothes, her aprons and 
 dresses were not so soon soiled, and her hat, 
 mstcad of being tossed down in any spot 
 where she happened to be when she took it 
 off, was always carried to the nursery and 
 given to Jane, that she might put it away. 
 
 Quite often the children had small presents 
 of money. Grandmamma Duncan or Uncle 
 John, papa or grandpapa, would give them a 
 new five or ten cent piece, — once Uncle John 
 had given them each twenty-five, — but they 
 never spent it for their own pleasure. As 
 soon as they received any such little gift, 
 away they ran for the library-box, and popped 
 the money in. One day Maggie found ten 
 
238 Bessie in the City, 
 
 cents in the street, and came rushing in to 
 her mother's room with it. 
 
 " Sec here, mamma," she said, " what I 
 have found I It was lying right down by our 
 stooj^, and there was no one near it, and I 
 don't know whose it is." 
 
 " Well, if you do not find the owner, we 
 may think you have a right to it, I suppose,'* 
 said Mrs. Bradford. 
 
 " But, mamma, ought we not to put it in 
 the paper first, and sec if any one comes for 
 it?" 
 
 " No, dear, that would not be worth while 
 for such a small sum." 
 
 " But, mamma, when papa found that pock- 
 et-book with money in it, he put a piece in 
 the paper, so the person who lost it would 
 know where it was." 
 
 " There were more than a hundred dollars 
 in that pocket-book, Maggie. It was only 
 
JYew Plans* 239 
 
 right that papa should let the owner know 
 where it was to be found. But ten cents is a 
 very small sum, and if he put half a dozen 
 advertisements in the paper, it is not at all 
 likely that any person would come for it." 
 
 '* And no one came for the money in the 
 pocket-book," said Maggie, " though papa kept 
 it a great while. But, mamma, he said it did 
 not belong to him ; and since he could find 
 no owner, he should think it belonged to the 
 Lord. So he gave it to the Sunday-school. 
 Well now, if I do not know who lost this ten 
 cents, do you not think it belongs to the Lord, 
 and I ought to return it to him? '* 
 
 *' Perhaps you ought, my darling," said Mrs. 
 Bradford, well pleased to find her little girl 
 so strictly honest, and so unwilhng to keep 
 that which she could not quite surely feel was 
 her own. " Suppose you put it with your 
 library money ? " 
 
240 Bessie in the City. 
 
 "Would that be quite fair, mamma? 
 Would it be giving to the Lord that which be- 
 longed to him to put it with that money which 
 we are to earn ? " 
 
 " Quite fair and right, I think, dearest. 
 That money you have certainly devoted to the 
 Lord's work; and you may put this with it 
 with a clear conscience." 
 
 So the ten cents were added to the sum in 
 the box, which, in one way and another, was 
 fast growing to the desired amount. 
 
 Each Sunday Maggie and Bessie went over 
 to the hotel to Mrs. Rush's class. Not one 
 had they missed, for they counted so much 
 upon it that their mother could not bear to 
 keep them at home, even in bad weather. 
 Two or three Sabbaths had been very rainy, 
 but papa had wrapped Bessie in mamma's 
 water-proof cloak, and carried her over to the 
 hotel, while Maggie, in her own cloak and 
 
New Plans. 241 
 
 high india-rubber boots, trotted along by his 
 side holding the large parasol, wliich made a 
 capital umbrella for the small figure beneath it. 
 Two bright little faces they were wliich peeped 
 forth from the hoods of tliese water-proofs 
 when they appeared in Mrs. Rush's parlor, 
 and dearly did she and the colonel love to see 
 them. Then the wrappings were pulled off, 
 and there were the two darlings as warm and 
 dry as if they had never stirred from their 
 own nursery fire. 
 
 Mrs. Rush still did all the teaching herself, 
 but since that first Sunday, she had quite 
 given up the office of story-teller to her hus- 
 band. She never could invent such stories as 
 he did, she said, and since he had begun with 
 it, he had better go on ! So each Sunday he 
 had one ready for them, and when the lessons 
 were over, teacher and scholars were alike 
 eager to listen. He had to repeat " Benito " 
 
242 Bessie in the City, 
 
 more than once, so fond were they all of it, 
 and the children, especially Bessie, would stop 
 him if he told it in any way different from 
 that in which they had first heard it, and tell 
 him he was wrong. They remembered it, he 
 said, better than he did. 
 
 Maggie and Bessie were very busy just now. 
 Christmas was drawing near, and they were 
 each working a book-mark which were to be 
 presented to Colonel and Mrs. Rush. Bessie's 
 was for " her soldier," and Maggie's for his 
 wife. Aunt Annie had promised to show 
 them how they were to be worked, and one 
 afternoon took them out to buy the materials. 
 They came home each with a piece of card- 
 board, a skein of silk, and half a yard of rib 
 bon ; and no lady who had spent hundreds of 
 dollars that day took half the pleasure in hct 
 shopping that our little girls did in theirs. 
 
 Aunt Annie had offered to give them what 
 
J^feiv Plans, 243 
 
 they needed from her stock of pretty thmgs. 
 But no, they must buy all with their own 
 money, or it would not be quite their own 
 presents. As soon as their walking dresses 
 w^ere taken off, Aunt Annie was coaxed to 
 show them at once how the book-marks were 
 to be made. She told them they must first 
 decide what mottoes they would work, and 
 proposed several. Maggie chose, " Remember 
 me ; " and Bessie, " I love you, Sir." Annie 
 said it was not the fashion to put " Sir " on a 
 book-mark ; but Bessie thought it would not 
 be at all tlie thing for little girls to give " un 
 polite presents." 
 
 " We ought to make our book-marks just 
 ^s proper as our own speaking," she insisted. 
 
 Maggie was a little doubtful ; but at last 
 she said she would do as Bessie did, since it 
 was " better to be too polite than not poHto 
 enough." So Aunt Annie let them havo their 
 
244 Bessie in the City* 
 
 way, and greatly to her own amusement, cut 
 the card long enough for ''I love you, Sir," 
 and " Remember me, ma'am. '* They did not 
 think it any the less their own work that their 
 aunt put the points of the needles into the 
 holes where they were to go. Did they not 
 pull them through with their own fingers and 
 draw the silk to its proper place ? Of course, 
 it was their own work ; Aunt Annie would not 
 have said it was hers on any account. After 
 two or three letters were made, Maggie learned 
 to find the right hole for herself with a good 
 deal of direction. 
 
 Before bed-time that night, Maggie had 
 worked " Eemem," and Bessie, "I lo ; " and 
 they looked at what they had done with 
 great satisfaction. Besides these book-marks, 
 they were each to work one for papa or 
 mamma, so that they had enough to keep 
 them busy until Chri§|mas. 
 
j}^ew Plafis. 24s 
 
 MeanwhUe the picture which Aunt Helen 
 was painting was nearly finished. She had 
 never allowed Maggie to see it, which the little 
 girl thought very strange ; but she had kept 
 the secret well. Sometimes they went to 
 Riverside, and sometimes Aunt Helen came 
 to grandmamma's house, when they would be 
 sent for ; and if mamma was not there, their 
 aunt would paint very industriously. Bessie 
 wondered why she would not let them see 
 what she was painting, and why Maggie should 
 always be so full of glee at such times, and 
 shake her head so very wisely. But after she 
 had been once told that it was a secret, she 
 asked no more questions. 
 
 On the morning after the book-marks were 
 commenced, Mrs. Bradford, who was not very 
 well, was lying on the sofa, while her little 
 daughters were playing quietly ou the other 
 
24^ Bessie in the City, 
 
 side of the room, and she heard . tliem talk- 
 ing together. 
 
 " Bessie," said Maggie, " I am so glad that 
 I have all my towels done, so I can have leis- 
 ure to make my Christmas presents." 
 
 " What does leisure mean ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 ^' It means not to be busy." 
 
 "Oh, I am glad, too, Maggie! You was 
 very industrious, and had a great deal of 
 per-se-were." 
 
 " Ance," said Maggie. 
 
 " Ance what, Maggie ? " 
 
 " Per-se-ve-rance. That's what you must 
 say," said Maggie. 
 
 " No. This morning Fred was mad 'cause 
 he couldn't do his sum, and he asked papa to 
 help him, and papa said he must persevt^ere, 
 and he could do it himself." 
 
 " Yes, I know it," said Maggie ; " but it ia 
 persevere to do it, and perseverance to have it." 
 
New Plans, 247 
 
 Bessie did not quite understand, but she 
 thought it must be right, since Maggie said so. 
 
 " We'll ask mamma about it when she feels 
 better," said Maggie. " Isn't she good to 
 us, Bessie, to help us so much to get our 
 library ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bessie, " she's such a precious 
 mamma. I do think every one is so kind to 
 us, Maggie." 
 
 " Yes," said Maggie, " when I. think about 
 my friends, I feel as if I could not say ' God 
 bless them ' enough." 
 
 " Yes," said Bessie, thoughtfully ; " and 
 when everybody is so good to us, and Our 
 Father is so good to us, and we have such 
 pleasant times, I suppose we ought to be the 
 best children that ever lived." 
 
 " But we're not," said Maggie ; " least, I'm 
 not. I think you are almost as good as any 
 one that ever lived, Bessie." 
 
248 Bessie in the City* 
 
 " Xo, I'm not, Maggie. Sometimes I feel 
 very nauglity, and just like being in a passion, 
 and I have to ask Jesus very much to help 
 me." 
 
 '' It's a great deal better to feel naughty, 
 and not be naughty, than to feel naughty, and 
 bo naughty, too, Bessie. Anyhow, you're 
 just good enough for me." 
 
 " But we ought to be good enough for 
 Jesus," said Bessie. " I wish I was as good 
 as that boy named Nathan Something, that 
 Harry yead to us about on Sunday." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Maggie, " it's all very well 
 to read about these wonderful children, but 
 when one comes to do it, it's a different thing. 
 I don't believe that any one could be so good 
 as never to do or to think a wrong thing. 
 But, Bessie, you know, I will be quite sorry 
 when mamma don't give ns glove-money any 
 more. I think this plan has been of service to 
 
« New Plans, 249 
 
 me in my carelessness. Don't you think Fm 
 pretty tol-able now ? " 
 
 " Not pretty," said Bessie ; " I think you 
 are very tol'able now. Why, Maggie, don't 
 you know papa said he could trust you to 
 take a message or do an errand now as soon 
 as any of his children ? " 
 
 *' Yes, and it was very nice to hear him 
 say that, Bessie. I didn't mind for all the 
 trouble I took to be careful, when he said it. 
 When we have our glove-money, it will make 
 more than six dollars in our box, if mamma 
 don't have to spend any of it for us. We 
 only want five for the library, so what shall 
 we do with the rest of it, Bessie. Mamma 
 said we must only spend that money in doing 
 good." 
 
 " Perhaps mamma will tell us something," 
 said Bessie. , 
 
 " But I'd like to think of something our- 
 
250 Bessie in the City, ^ 
 
 selves, and I did think of a nice thing, Bessie, 
 if 3'ou would like to do it." 
 
 " I guess I would. Tell me, Maggie." 
 *' Yesterday, when Mary Bent came here, 
 she had on only a thin little cape, that did 
 not keep her warm at all, and she looked so 
 cold, nurse asked her if that was the warmest 
 thing she had, and she said yes. So nurse 
 brought an old piece of flannel, and basted it 
 all inside the cape to make it warmer ; but 
 she said the child ought to have a thick cloak 
 or shawl, and if mamma was home, she knew 
 she would do something for her. Mary said 
 her mother had a warm shawl, but when the 
 weather was cold, they had to keep it to put 
 over Jemmy, 'cause he shivered so if he was 
 not covered up warm. I felt so sorry for her, 
 and last night, I thought maybe we could take 
 the rest of our money and buy her a warm 
 
New Plans, 251 
 
 thing to wear. Would joii like that, dear 
 Bessie ? " 
 
 '' 'Deed, I would," said Bessie. " You do 
 make such nice plans, Maggie. If we can do 
 it, I shall just tell Mary you made it up. I 
 don't believe anybody has such a smart Mag- 
 gie as I have." 
 
 Maggie kissed her sister, for dearly as she 
 loved praise, none was sweeter to her than 
 that which Bessie was always so ready to give. 
 
 " I'm afraid we wont have enough to buy 
 anything very warm," she said, " 'cause that 
 would cost a good deal, and we have not time 
 to earn any, we are so very busy." 
 
 " Yes," said Bessie, " we have our hands 
 full ; but we will ask mamma." 
 
 Later in tlie day they did ask her, and she 
 said that, if they pleased, they might use what 
 they did not need for the library for this pur- 
 pose. 
 
252 Bessie in the City. 
 
 *' But you will not have enough to buy a 
 warm sack for Mary, such as she should have, 
 my darlings," she said. " Nurse told me how 
 poorly Mary was clothed for this cold weather, 
 and I had intended, the next time I should go 
 out, to buy some gray flannel, and let Jane 
 make a sack thickly lined and quilted. This 
 will cost more than you can spare." 
 
 *' Well, mamma," said Bessie, " if you will 
 wait till after Christmas, perhaps we might 
 earn enough to buy a sack for Mary, and we 
 would like to do it ourselves." 
 
 •' But in the mean while, the poor child 
 would be suffering with the cold," said Mrs 
 Bradford. ^' Suppose I give Mary the cloak, 
 and you buy for Jemmy a comfortable, so that 
 he will not need his mother's shawl." 
 
 The children agreed, though they did not 
 look very well satisfied, for they had set their 
 hearts on giving the warm garment to Mary 
 
New Plans. 253 
 
 themselves. Suddenly Maggie looked up at 
 her mother as if a bright thought had come 
 into her mind, and said, eagerly, — 
 
 " Mamma, Mary said she used to wear her 
 mother's shawl when Jemmy did not need it. 
 Suppose you were to buy the comfortable, and 
 then the shawl will be at liberty for Mary, and 
 by and by, when we have enough, ive can buy 
 the sack." 
 
 Mamma said this would do very well, and 
 so it was arranged. Then she told them that 
 if they wished, she would continue to give 
 them the glove-money each month, and what 
 they saved from it they might still spend for 
 others who were in need ; for Mrs. Bradford 
 agreed with Maggie that this plan had been of 
 service to her little girl, and thought it would 
 be well to keep on with it, since it was teaching 
 her to be thoughtful and careful herself, in 
 order that she might be of use to others ; and 
 
254 jyesste in the City. 
 
 good habits onco formed arc not easy to 
 lose. 
 
 That evening, when papa came home, he 
 brought some glossy, crisp, new bank-notes, 
 which he offered to Maggie and Bessie in ex- 
 change for some of the smaller money in 
 their box. They were quite ready to take 
 them, they were so clean and pretty ; and 
 taking out two dollars in change, Mr. Brad- 
 ford put in two one dollar notes. 
 
XII. 
 
 A VISITOR. 
 
 \ DAY or two after this, a lady and 
 gentleman named Moore came to make 
 a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Bradford. They 
 brought with them their son George, a boy 
 about Harry's age. What kind of a boy he 
 was may be known from a conversation be- 
 tween Harry and Fred on the first evening of 
 the Moores' visit. 
 
 " Harry," said Fred, as they were undress- 
 ing for bed, '' what do you think of that 
 chap?" 
 
 " Who, — George ? " said Harry; " I don't 
 fancy him, though it's scarcely fair to judge 
 yet ; but I don't think there's much in him. 
 He's a Miss Nancy-ish sort of a fellow." 
 
256 Bessie in the City. 
 
 *' There's not much in him of the right 
 sort," said Fred, savagely ; " but there's plenty 
 of another kind ; and if he tries it on here, 
 I'll have it out of him." 
 
 '' Halloa ! " said Harry ; " what has set you 
 up that way, Frederick the Great ? What 
 would papa say to hear you speaking so of a 
 guest in his house ? " 
 
 " I don't care," said Fred ; " guest or no 
 guest, I am not going to have any fellow play- 
 ing Fhabby tricks on our Midget and Bess. It 
 is a man's duty to stand up for his mother 
 and sisters. I tease the girls myself some- 
 times I know, more shame for me, but you 
 will allow I haven't done it so much lately, 
 Hal ; I couldn't since Bess told me gemper- 
 lums didn't tease ; " and Fred began to laugh ; 
 '* bit I never played mean tricks on them, and 
 I sha'n't let any chap that's nothing to them. 
 
A Visitor. 257 
 
 He'd better let them alone, or Fll fix liim, 
 that's all." 
 
 " But what has he done ? " asked Ilarry. 
 '* Seeing he is a visitor, you ought not to talk so 
 about him without some special good reason." 
 
 '•Reason!" repeated Fred, pulling off his 
 jacket and tossing it upon a distant chair ; 
 *' there's special reason enough ; if that is all 
 you want, I'll tell you. The first thing, this 
 evening, while the grown-upers were at din- 
 ner and you were studying in the library, 
 he was playing jackstraws with Maggie and 
 Bessie. I thought it did not seem very polite 
 to leave him alone with the little girls ; so, as I 
 had done all my lessons but the copying of 
 my sums, I took my slate to the parlor table. 
 I suppose he thought I was not noticing his 
 play, but I soon found him out. First place, 
 he said they were to throw from the height 
 of their fists, his being Invice as big as eitlif^*' 
 17 
 
258 Bessie in the City, 
 
 of the girls. Presently he told Bessie that she 
 joggled. I couldn't see that she did, but 1 
 said nothing. It was the same thing with 
 Maggie. She had only taken off one or two, 
 when he stopped her. Midget was quite sure 
 that she had not shaken, and so was I ; but he 
 declared that he had seen it. Pretty soon he 
 gave an awful shake himself, but the girls 
 were looking away, and did not see it. He 
 looked up at them, and seeing they did not 
 notice it, went on playing without a word. 
 The next time he told Bessie she shook, she 
 laid down the hook with a little sigh, and 
 said, in her innocent way, ' We always shake 
 when we don't see ; please to 'sense us, be- 
 cause we don't mean to.' Maggie declared 
 that Bessie had not shaken, and insisted that 
 she should go on ; and what do you think 
 the mean fellow did then ? He blew upon 
 the jack-straws as Bess went to draw one out ; 
 
A Visitor. 259 
 
 80, of course, they went. ' Then I did shake/ 
 said Bessie. Of course, he won the game by 
 ever so many. ' It's very funny we shook so 
 much when we didn't see,' said Midget. ' You 
 should look sharp,' he answered. So then I 
 put in. ' It don't do to have more than one 
 too sliarp in a game,' I said. He took, and af- 
 ter that did not care to play any more. Now, 
 is he not a mean sneak to trick two little 
 girls ? " 
 
 " That he is," answered Harry, indignantly ; 
 " but still it wont do for you to make a row 
 with him, Fred." 
 
 " That's not all," said Fred. " You know 
 wlien Maggie spilled that spoonful of ice- 
 cream over herself at dessert, and a little 
 went on Mrs. Moore's dress ? Well, it was 
 all George's doing. Just as she went to 
 lift it to her lips, he jerked her arm with his 
 elbow, and away went tlici spoon. Then 
 
2t)0 Bessie in the City. 
 
 — -irs^^ — 
 
 mamma said, ' Maggie, how could you be so 
 careless, my dear ? ' and Mrs. Moore looked 
 like a thunder-cloud ; but he never had the 
 honesty to own up, even when Meg turned 
 and looked at him with great, wide-open eyes, 
 as if she expected him to speak. Papa sus- 
 pected something, I know, for he called Mag- 
 gie to him, and made her stay at his side, not 
 a bit as if he thought it was her carelessness. 
 He had better look out for himself, that's all ; 
 for if he tries much more of that game, he'll 
 find me pitching into him." 
 
 " YoLi wont fight him ? " said Harry. 
 
 '' Yes, I will fight him, too, if he plagues 
 our girls, or cheats them." 
 
 " You know what papa thinks of fighting, 
 Fred : and what will he say if you quarrel 
 with a boy who is a guest in our own house ? " 
 
 " I'll guest him if he don't mind his p's 
 \nd q's," said Fred, scrambling into bed in 
 
A Visitor, 261 
 
 his usual headlong fashion. " I say, Hal, 
 couldn't you give him a hint in the morning 
 that we wont stand such doings ? You're a 
 better hand to do it than I am. You'll keep 
 your temper, and I sha'n't." 
 
 " I'll see," said Harry, who was desirous 
 to keep the peace between his brother and 
 the 'visitor, and who knew that Fred's hot 
 temper, and contempt for all meanness, would 
 be very apt to lead him into trouble with such 
 a boy as he perceived George to be. 
 
 " There's his mother, too," said Fred, 
 " telling mamma that ' she felt it was a great 
 risk to bring him from home, he was such a 
 good boy, so free from all bad habits. She 
 had never allowed him to play with other 
 children, as she thought they contaminated 
 each other; and slie was glad he seemed to 
 prefer gh-ls' society.' Bosh ! He ' prefers the 
 girls' society' because he can come it over 
 
262 Besstt tn t/ie City. 
 
 them, and he can't over us. His father has 
 more of the right stufif in him. He said, * it 
 was time George was thrown with otlier boys, 
 and allowed to take his share of rough and 
 tumble.' But I sha'n't trouble him if he 
 don't provoke me too much, only you tell him 
 we wont stand seeing our sisters ill-treated." 
 
 But ahhough Harry did as Fred asked, 
 there was trouble before the day was half 
 over. Mr. Moore gave his son permission to 
 go out to the park during the recess of the 
 school which the boys attended. Before the 
 half-hour was up, George rushed into the 
 house crying loudly, and with his lip cut and 
 bleeding. He made such an outcry that the 
 whole family were very much alarmed ; but 
 when his mouth was washed, it proved to be 
 but a slight cut, and nurse declared to Jane 
 that Franky would have been ashamed to 
 make a fuss for such a trifle. 
 
A l^isitor. 263 
 
 " Fred had done it," he said. " Fred 
 wanted to fight, and he would not. He had 
 never fought in liis life. He'd be ashamed to 
 say he had." 
 
 Mrs. Bradford was very much troubled ; but 
 she waited to hear her own son's side of the 
 story before she judged him. Mrs. Moore, 
 however, had a great deal to say. 
 
 When Fred came home, two hours later, his 
 hand was bound up in his pocket-handker- 
 chief. 
 
 " How have you hurt your hand, Fred ? " 
 asked his father. ^' Is it true you have been 
 fighting?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "- Without just cause, as George says? " 
 
 " I had cause enough, sir, if that was all," 
 said Fred, rather sulkily for him. 
 
 " That he had," said Harry. " You'd have 
 been ready to fight yourself, sir. Ill tell you 
 
264 Bessie in the City, 
 
 how it was. George is not fair and above 
 board, as we found out last night. So when 
 he came out to the jDlay-ground, I just told 
 him we would allow no unfair play, and he 
 did not try it. But after a while he said he 
 did not care to play with such a rough set, 
 and walked off by himself. I thought I ought 
 to go and see after him, and found him shy- 
 ing stones at the sparrows about the water- 
 tanks. I told him he had better have done with 
 that, or he would have an M. P. down on him. 
 Then he said he guessed he'd go home. First 
 thing I knew a few minutes after, he was 
 howling, and Fred had him by the collar. It 
 seems poor Charlie Wagstaff — poor, hump 
 backed little Charlie — was sitting; on a bench 
 reading, when my gentleman George passed 
 by and saw him. He began by throwing 
 gravel over Charley's head and neck, not 
 thinking he was one of our boys, and that not 
 
A Visitor. 265 
 
 a fellow in the school would see him abused, 
 and at last, getting bolder, snatched his book, 
 and threw it over the park railing. It was a 
 harrowed book, and the poor boy took his 
 crutches and started after it. Then George 
 began dancing about him, and calling him ' Old 
 hipperty hop,' and such names. Fred, who 
 saw them from a distance, feared sometliing 
 was wrong, and ran to the spot just in time 
 to see him pull Charlie's crutch from under 
 him, throw him on the ground, and then run. 
 But Fred collared him, and in his quick way, 
 just let fly and hit him in the mouth. He 
 came off the worst, though, for his knuckles 
 were cut by George's teeth, and lie was not so 
 much hurt. George went off roaring, and 
 that moment the wliistle sounded, and we had 
 to go in. It was writing hour, and when Mr. 
 Peters saw Fred's bleeding knuckles, lie asked 
 him if lie liad been fighting. He said, ' Yes,' 
 
266 Bessie in the City, 
 
 and Mr. Peters was going to keep him in, when 
 Charlie spoke up, and told the whole story. 
 Mr. Peters said we all knew how strict the 
 rules against fighting in play-hours were ; 
 but he really thought, in this case, Fred 
 was almost excusable, and asked how many 
 agreed with him. Up went every hand in the 
 school, and I don't think he was ill-pleased 
 either. So he excused Fred, and told me to 
 tell you why he had done so ; and I don't 
 believe you'll be the one to blame him, papa." 
 
 Mr. Bradford was certainly not disposed to 
 be severe with his boy, but he talked to him 
 a little on the evils resulting from his hasty 
 temper, and readiness to give a blow when a 
 word would answer. 
 
 " I am not inclined to punish or reprove 
 you under the circumstances, my son," he 
 said, " but you have made some discomfort 
 for your mother and me, as well as for your- 
 
A Vise tor, 267 
 
 self, by jour hasty conduct. It is not pleasant 
 to feel that a son of ours has so conducted 
 himself to the child of our friends, however 
 great the provocation ; and you have forgot- 
 ten the laws of hospitality in attacking one 
 who is a guest beneath your father's roof." 
 
 " I'll go and shake hands with him this 
 minute," said Fred. " I did forget who and 
 what he was, that's true, though I'll own I 
 have been afraid I should serve him out ever 
 since he has been in the house." 
 
 And Fred went directly to find George and 
 make peace with him. George was unwilling 
 to shake hands, and Mrs. Moore did not look 
 very kindly at Fred, but Mr. Moore insisted 
 that his son should make friends and receive 
 Fred's apology. Neither Harry nor Fred told 
 Mr. and Mrs. Moore of George's misconduct 
 towards Charlie, and he was not honorable 
 enough to tell himself, leaving Jiis parents to 
 
268 Bessie in the City, 
 
 — -^s^^a 
 
 suppose it was only Fred's quarrelsome temper 
 that had been to blame. 
 
 After this, George kept himself rather apart 
 from the other boys, spending most of his 
 time with Maggie and Bessie, who did not 
 like him much, tliey could scarcely tell why, 
 but who were very polite to him. Flossy did 
 not like him either, but he showed it very 
 plainly, barking at him whenever he saw him, 
 and if George came near to him scrambling 
 into the children's arms or running under 
 Mrs. Bradford's skirt, where he would keep 
 up a low snarling or woof, wooffing, which was 
 very unmannerly. 
 
 Just about this time Mrs. Bradford found 
 that one of Maggie's second teeth was making 
 its appearance behind the first tooth, which 
 was not yet loosened to give place to it. She 
 was afraid that the new tooth would come 
 crooked, and so spoil the looks of Maggie's 
 
A Visitor. 209 
 
 mouth, and she said she thought she must 
 take her to the dentist and have the old one 
 drawn. 
 
 Now Maggie had a great horror of the 
 dentist. Unfortunately, she had once been 
 taken there by grandmamma when Aunt Annie 
 was to have a tooth drawn. Maggie had hap- 
 pened to be in the carriage, and without think- 
 ing much about it, Mrs. Stanton had allowed 
 her to go in with tliem. The tooth was a 
 hard one to draw, and poor Aunt Annie fainted 
 and was very sick, while no one thought of 
 the little frightened child who stood trembling 
 in a corner of the room, thinking that the 
 dentist had killed her dear aunt. Afterwards 
 Aunt Annie took cold in her face, and suf- 
 fered very much because she foolishly went 
 out too soon ; but Maggie thought it all the 
 fault of the poor dentist. After that, when- 
 ever her dolls were ill, it was always because 
 
270 Bessie in the City. 
 
 they had been to the dentist. They had small- 
 pox, scarlet fever, measles, and broken legs 
 and arms, and were even deaf, dumb, and 
 blind all through the fault of the dentist, 
 Mrs. Bradford was very sorry for this, as she 
 feared it would make trouble with Maggie 
 when her teeth should need any attention ; 
 and so it proved, for when she told her she 
 thought she must take her to Dr. Blake, Mag- 
 gie turned very white. 
 
 " It will not be much, dearest," said her 
 mother. " It is a little first tooth, and the 
 pain will be over in a moment." 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie. " I would rather 
 have my mouth ever so ugly than have it out." 
 
 " Perhaps you do not care now, Maggie, 
 but when you are a young lady, you will not 
 thank your mother for allowing your teeth to 
 grow crooked in order that she might spare 
 you a moment's pain now." 
 
A Visitor, 271 
 
 Maggie said no more, but for the rest of 
 the day she looked so troubled, and she and 
 Bessie had such anxious whisperings, and 
 there was so much feeling and touching of 
 the tooth that was to be lost, that Mrs. Brad- 
 ford told her husband that she should take 
 her to Dr. Blake the first thing in the morn- 
 ing, that she might have no more time to think 
 about it. 
 
 " Maggie," said Mr. Bradford, calling her 
 to him just as lie was going down town the 
 next morning, — "Maggie, do you want to 
 earn a dollar ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, papa ! " and Mr. Bradford smiled 
 as he saw the troubled face light up for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 '' You and Bessie are going to be great 
 money-makers," he said. " You must not 
 grow too fond of it, or learn to love it for its 
 own sake. If, when I come home this after 
 
272 Bessie in the City. 
 
 noon, you have a little white tooth to show me, 
 I shall pay you a dollar for it." 
 
 '' And can I do what I like with it, papa ? " 
 
 '' Yes, whatever you please. You may 
 spend it for Christmas presents or for some- 
 thing for yourself, — just which you choose." 
 
 But Maggie did not mean to do either. 
 She thanked and kissed her father, and was 
 off to tell her mother and Bessie. 
 
 " There's a whole another dollar for Mary's 
 sack," she said, " now she'll have it all the 
 sooner." And she kept up her courage very 
 well till they drove up to the dentist's stoop. 
 Then Mrs. Bradford felt the little hand she 
 held squeezing her own very tiglitly, and Mag- 
 gie looked up in her face with a quivering lip. 
 " I have to think very much about Mary's 
 sack not to cry, mamma," she said. 
 
 '' You are my own dear, courageous little 
 girl," said Mrs. Bradford, " and it will soon 
 
A Visitor, 273 
 
 be over now." She was very sorry for Mag- 
 gie, for she knew this was a hard trial fur ner, 
 and wished very much that she could bear it 
 in her place ; but since this was not possible, 
 all she could do was to help her to bear it 
 bravely. 
 
 Dr. Blake was at home and disengaged, and 
 he was so kind and gentle that Maggie was 
 quite ashamed of feeling afraid of him. 
 
 '' You don't say this little maid has any 
 need of me ? " he said. 
 
 Mrs. Bradford told what was the trouble, 
 and took off Maggie's hat; the dentist lifted 
 her into the chair, and told her to open her 
 mouth. She gave a long sigh and obeyed, 
 holding on tightly to her mother's hand. Dr. 
 Blake looked into her mouth for a moment, 
 and then patting her on the head, said to Mrs. 
 Bradford, — 
 
 "It's all right enough, madam ; the first 
 18 
 
274 Bessie tn the City, 
 
 tooth will be loose in a few days, when you 
 may pull it with a thread, and the second will 
 come quite straight. No need for any pulling 
 of mine." 
 
 As soon as Maggie understood the tooth was 
 not to come out, she looked very much de- 
 lighted, then grave again. " If it is not too 
 much trouble, sir," she said, " will you please 
 to take it out." 
 
 " Why, you surely don't want to have it 
 drawn for the fun of it ! " said the dentist. 
 
 " No, sir ; but for another reason." Mag- 
 gie was too shy to tell what that reason was. 
 
 Since there was nothing to be done with 
 the tooth, Mrs. Bradford pvit on Maggie's hat 
 and the doctor lifted her down from the great 
 chair. 
 
 '-• Mamma," she said, as they left the house, 
 " I shall never make my dolls sick again be- 
 cause they went to the dentist. Why, I think 
 
A Visitor. 275 
 
 he is just as nico as other gentlemen, and I 
 felt real sorry I was so afraid of him." 
 
 While Mrs. Bradford and Maggie were gone, 
 Bessie stood by the parlor window looking 
 very melancholy and watching for their re- 
 turn. She was very much troubled about her 
 sister, and would not play with George or listen 
 to the story which Jane offered to tell her, or 
 do anything but think of Maggie. Presently 
 she saw Mr. Hall coming down the street. 
 He stopped at the stoop, lox)ked up and 
 nodded, and then came up the steps. Bessie 
 slipped down from her chair and running to 
 the front-door, called to Patrick, who was in 
 the hall, to open it for lier. She seized her 
 kind old friend by the hand, and said, " Mr. 
 Hall, we have a dreadful misfortune." 
 
 Mr. Hall was quite alarmed when he saw 
 her sad little face, but when he had asked 
 what the misfortune was, and heard that 
 
276 Bessie m the City, 
 
 Maggie had gone to have a tooth drawn, he 
 was very much relieved and rather amused. 
 He took Bessie on his knee, and after she had 
 told him how well Maggie had behaved, talked 
 to her for a few moments, and then, saying 
 that it was about time for her mother and 
 Maggie to be back, left a message for her 
 father, and went away. 
 
 Pretty soon mamma and Maggie came in, 
 the latter, to her sister's surprise and delight, 
 looking very bright ; and lo ! there was the 
 tooth still in her head. 
 
 ^' But oh, our dollar ! Bessie," said Maggie. 
 *' I am so sorry ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Bessie. " Maybe we 
 can earn it some other way. I'm so glad you 
 didn't be hurt, Maggie, dear." 
 
 " Where is that tooth I am to pay for ? " 
 said Mr. Bradford, when he came home that 
 afternoon. 
 
A Visitor. 277 
 
 Maggie came to him, and opening her 
 mouth, sliowed her pretty rice-grain still in 
 its place. 
 
 '' Halloa ! " said papa. " Did your courage 
 give out ? " 
 
 " Dr. Blake wouldn't take it out, papa ; not 
 even when I begged him. And now you wont 
 nave to pay the dollar." 
 
 "I don't know about that," said papa. " 1 
 bought the tooth, and I did not say where I 
 should keep it. It is not quite convenient for 
 me to take care of it just at present ; perhaps 
 you would not object to giving it lodging in 
 its present place for a while. But it belongs 
 to me, remember ; here is the price, and you 
 are to take care that it does not bite threads 
 or crack nuts, or do anything else which 
 might damage it. It is mine, now, bought 
 and paid for ; " and as papa spoke, he handed 
 Maggie a dollar-bill. " You quite deserve it, 
 
278 Bessie in the City, 
 
 my little girl. It was no fault of yours that 
 you did not keep your share of the bargain, 
 and since you did all you could, I shall keep 
 mine." 
 
 After Maggie had hugged and kissed her 
 father till he was half stifled, — Bessie, too, 
 doing her share at that business, — they ran 
 for the money-box to put away the new note. 
 She and Bessie were trying to count over their 
 treasure when George came by. 
 
 " Whew ! " he said. " Where did you get 
 all that ? Is it yours ? What are you going 
 to do with it ? " 
 
 " We are going to do a purpose with it ? " 
 said Bessie, for neither of the children cared 
 \o tell George what that purpose was. 
 
 " Oh, to buy goodies and toys is your pur- 
 pose, I suppose ! " 
 
 " No," said Bessie. " It is not a foolish 
 purpose like that; " and she said no more. 
 
.1 Visitor. 279 
 
 They let George help them count the 
 money, however, for they could not do it 
 correctly themselves, then put it all back in 
 mamma's drawer. George had followed them, 
 and saw where they placed it. 
 
 That evening a parcel was left at the door 
 directed to Maggie, and when it was opened, 
 there were two new books. In one was written, 
 " For a brave little girl who has lost a tooth, 
 from Grandpapa Hall ; " in the other, " For 
 the sister of the brave girl." 
 
 " Will you lend me one of your new 
 books ? " asked George, as Maggie and Bessie 
 were saying " good-night." 
 
 " We can't," said Maggie. " We must not 
 keep them, you know, 'cause I did not have 
 my tooth out, and Grandpapa Hall meant 
 it for that.- We are going to give them 
 back." 
 
 '* Pshaw," said George ; '' he'll never know 
 
28o Bessie in the City, 
 
 I should not think of such a thing as giving 
 them up." 
 
 " I don't believe you vrould," Fred whis- 
 pered to Harry. 
 
 '^ Why, that would be doing a story," said 
 Bessie, and she drew away from George with 
 a shocked look. " Why, George, I'm afraid 
 your mother don't bring you up in the way 
 you should go." 
 
 Fred and Harry laughed, but George was 
 angry, and would not shake hands with Bes- 
 sie, when, a moment later, she bade him good- 
 night. 
 
 But Grandpapa Hall would not take back 
 the books ; he said, as papa had done, that they, 
 were meant for the brave girl who was willing 
 to have her tooth drawn. 
 

 XIII . 
 
 TUB BANK-NOTES, 
 
 ROM the time that George had seen 
 the children's money, he did not cease 
 to think of it, and soon he began to wish for it. 
 
 " 'Tis a shame," he said to himself; '' those 
 two little snips having such a lot of money, 
 and here I have next to none. Father is so 
 awful stingy about giving me money." 
 
 This was not true, for Mr. Moore would 
 give his son money for any needful purpose ; 
 but as George was apt to waste his allowance, 
 he gave him but a small on'^. George had 
 been envious when he heard how much more 
 Mr. Bradford gave his sons, and now when he 
 saw what the little girls had earned, he kept 
 saying to himself that he wished he had half 
 
282 Bessie in the City, 
 
 or even a quarter of what was in that box. 
 The wish grew stronger and stronger ; then 
 came the thought how easily he might get at it 
 some time when there was no one in Mrs. 
 Bradford's room. Then he began prying and 
 watching and looking at the drawer where 
 the money lay, tliinking how fine it would be 
 if he could only luish the bank-notes out of it 
 into his own pocket. Conscience whispered 
 loudly, struggling with the evil spirit which 
 was gaining such a hold upon him, but all in 
 vain, he would not listen ; and her voice grew 
 fainter and fainter. 
 
 At last he resolved that he loould have some 
 of that money, come what might, although ho 
 had in the mean while found out from the boys 
 with what purpose the dear little girls were 
 saving it. And " chance " (as he called it) 
 threw a fine opportunity in his way. 
 
 " This bill is bad," said Mrs. Moore to her 
 
The Bank-Aotes, 283 
 
 husband, one morning when George was in 
 the room. " It was among those you gave me 
 yesterday, and was refused in a store where I 
 offered it." 
 
 Mr. Moore took it from her. " A counter- 
 feit certainly," he said ; " it is unmistakably 
 bad. I wonder I should have been so careless 
 as to take it." Then twisting it up, he tossed 
 it among a heap of waste paper that lay in a 
 little basket, for Mr. Moore was rather a care- 
 less man. That note should have been de- 
 stroyed at once when he knew it was bad. 
 
 A. terrible thought came into George's 
 mind, and he did not shut it out. He lin- 
 gered a moment behind his parents, and 
 snatching the false note, thrust it far down in 
 his pocket ; then he followed to the breakfast- 
 room. But he could eat nothing ; the food 
 lay untouched upon his plate. A guilty, al- 
 most sick feeling took from him all appetite, 
 
284 Bessie in the City. 
 
 made him hate the sight of those happy faces 
 about the table, and think that every look 
 which was turned upon him was full of anger 
 and 5Corn. Once when Harry accidentally 
 touched him, he clapped his hand over his 
 pocket with a sudden fear that he was about 
 to drag forth the note and expose him ; and 
 when tender-hearted little Bessie came to him, 
 saying that, since he had eaten no breakfast, 
 he should have half of her orange, he pushed 
 her rudely from him, and would not take 
 the gift she offered so prettily. His father 
 reproved him sharply for his ill-manners, and 
 his mother said she was sure George was not 
 well, something had been wrong with him for 
 two or three days ; he must see the doctor. 
 
 Yes, something was wrong, very wrong with 
 George, but it was not what his anxious 
 mother thought ; it was far worse than any 
 sickness of the body ; it was the evil of a bad 
 
The Bank-Notes. 285 
 
 ^ r*fcia, of a guilty purpose, and no doctor 
 could cure him since he would not go to the 
 great Physician. All the morning he crept 
 about the house, wretched and uneasy, look- 
 ing miserable enough to give cause for his 
 mother's anxiety. Once or twice his wicked 
 resolution almost gave way, and he half de- 
 termined to throw away the note and think no 
 more of the money in the box ; but again the 
 tempter whispered, drowning the feeble voice 
 of conscience, and giving him many reasons 
 why he should take what he wished for. 
 
 That afternoon he was left alone. His 
 mother and Mrs. Bradford went out, taking 
 Maggie and Bessie with them, leaving him 
 behind at his own request. The boys were at 
 school ; his father and Mr. Bradford far away 
 down town ; it really seemed as if all had 
 been arranged for him to carry out his pur- 
 pose. 
 
286 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Eising from the sofa, upon which his mother 
 had left him, he stole softly to the door and 
 peeped out. How still the house was ! Ho 
 went slowly along the hall, watching the turn 
 of the stairs lest a head should suddenly ap 
 pear above it, reached Mrs. Bradford's door, 
 pushed it open and entered. Now, quick — 
 not a minute to lose. Hark ! What is that ? 
 Nothing but old nurse crooning softly to her 
 baby in the nursery. 
 
 Noiselessly he pulled open the drawer, lift- 
 ed the box, the secret of which Maggie had 
 showed him, from its corner, took out one of 
 the fresh clean notes, and put in its place the 
 crumpled, worthless bill his father had thrown 
 aside that morning. 
 
 Whenever he had felt reproached for the 
 meanness he was guilty of towards the dear 
 little girls who had been so kind to him, he 
 would say to himself that it was not at all 
 
The Bank-Notes, 287 
 
 likely they would suffer from it ; probably tho 
 bad note would be paid away with the others ; 
 his father had taken it witliout noticing that 
 it was false, why should not others do so? 
 Even if it should be found out, Mr. Bradford 
 would give his children another in the place 
 of it ; he was a rich man, a dollar was noth- 
 ing to him. 
 
 He was about to put the bos back, when 
 the thought came to him, why take only one ? 
 Forgetting in his guilty haste that the loss of 
 a second would make the change of the first 
 more easily discovered, he touched the spring 
 once more, took out another dollar, and then 
 hastily replaced the box. 
 
 The deed once done, half his fears seemed 
 to pass away. How easy it had been ! No 
 one had seen him, no one heard him ; he was 
 going away with his father and mother in two 
 days, and probably no one would find out — • 
 
288 Bessie in the City* 
 
 the theft lie would not say to himself he 
 called it the loss. 
 
 While Mr. Moore was out, he thought that 
 he had been careless in the matter of the false 
 note, and when he came home, looked for it, 
 that he might destroy it. But it was gone, 
 and his wife could tell him nothing of it. He 
 called George, and asked him if he had seen 
 it. George hesitated, and seemed so confused 
 that his father was sure he had it, and asked 
 how he had dared take it, when he knew it 
 to be bad. 
 
 " I only took it to play with," stammered 
 George. " I am always playing store with 
 Maggie and Bessie, and I thought it would be 
 nice for money." 
 
 This was true, as Mr. Moore knew, and, 
 more gently, he told his son to give him the 
 note. 
 
 " I threw it away," said the wicked boy ; " I 
 
The Bank-No tes. 289 
 
 thought maybe you would not like me to have 
 it, and I put it in the fire." 
 
 " All right then," said Mr. Moore, " but 
 why are you so frightened ? you have done 
 nothing so very wrong, though it would have 
 been better if you had not touched the note, 
 and I am myself to blame for leaving it where 
 there was any probability that it might be 
 turned to a bad use." 
 
 George was only too glad that he had es- 
 caped so easily, and had no feelings of 
 sorrow for having deceived his kind, good 
 father. 
 
 The rest of that day and the whole of the 
 next passed, and he heard nothing to alarm 
 him. Every one was more kind than usual 
 to him, though he himself was restless and 
 fretful, for all thought he was not well. He 
 kept out of the way of the other children, and 
 spent half his time lounging on the sofa in his 
 
 19 
 
290 Bessie in the City. 
 
 mother's room. He would willingly have 
 spent the whole of his time there, but he was 
 tormented with the fear that something might 
 have been discovered, and would go about 
 among the family to make sure that all was 
 
 " Mamma," said Maggie, dancing into her 
 mother's room, on the morning of the third 
 day, — ^' mamma, nurse says this is' the tenth 
 of the month." 
 
 " Well, Dimple, what of that ? " 
 " Why, mamma, you know that is the day 
 you give us the glove-money, and here are 
 my gloves, — the best ones quite, quite good, 
 and the second-best are very nice, too ; Jane 
 mended them yesterday ; and here comes Bes- 
 sie with hers, and they are very nice ; and I 
 have had only one pair of boot-laces this 
 month, mamma, and so do you not think we 
 have enough for the log-cabin library, and for 
 
The Banl-Notes, 291 
 
 Mary's sack, too ? We want to buy it and 
 give it to her for Christmas, if you will let 
 Jane make it. I think we shall have enough, 
 mamma ; don't you think so ? " 
 
 Certahily her mother's name of " Dimple " 
 was well suited to Maggie just then ; for mouth, 
 cheeks, and chin seemed running over with 
 smiles, while her eyes looked as if they would 
 dance out of her head. Nor was Bessie much 
 less eager, as she stood beside her sister, and 
 the four little hands each held up a pair of 
 gloves. 
 
 " We will see," said mamma. '' Papa is not 
 quite ready to go down-stairs ; we shall have 
 time to count it up. I think you have over 
 five dollars in your box, and these two," — 
 as she spoke, Mrs. Bradford took some money 
 from her purse — "will make over seven. I 
 think we shall manage to buy Mary's sack 
 out of that." 
 
292 Bessie in the City. 
 
 She sat down upon a low chair, the children 
 standing on each side, and taking the box 
 from the drawer, emptied it into her lap. 
 
 " A pair of bootlaces for Maggie and one 
 for Bessie, that leaves two dollars and fifteen 
 cents for this month. Now here is — Why, 
 what a crumpled note ! How came this 
 here ? " and Mrs. Bradford took up the bill 
 which George had vainly endeavored to smooth 
 out. " I thought all those notes papa gave 
 you were quite clean and fresh.'' 
 
 " So they were, mamma, nice and new and 
 pretty ; and, mamma, I am quite sure I did 
 not muss that up so, and — Why there are 
 only two bills, and we had three ! I did not 
 lose any, mamma, — I know I did not," said 
 poor Maggie, all in a flutter, lest her mother 
 Ghould think this was some of her old careless- 
 ness. 
 
 "Do not be frightened, dear," said Mrs. 
 
The Bank-Notes. 293 
 
 Bradford; " no one is going to accuse you, or 
 think you hav^e been careless unless there is 
 good reason for it. Henry, will you come 
 here for one moment? " 
 
 Mr. Bradford came from his dressing-room, 
 hair-brush in hand. 
 
 " Do you know anything of this bill ? Have 
 you changed any of the children's money ? " 
 asked his wife. 
 
 He took the note from her hand. 
 
 *' This is a counterfeit, and a very poor one 
 too," he said, the moment he looked at it. 
 " Have either of you ever seen it before, chil- 
 dren ? " 
 
 " No, papa," said Maggie. *' I know it is 
 not one of our bills. We kept them just as 
 nice as you gave them to us, and one is gone 
 too." 
 
 " When did you last have out your mon- 
 ey ? " asked Mrs. Bradford. 
 
294 Bessie in the City* 
 
 " The day we went to the dentist's, mamma. 
 When papa gave me the dollar that evening, 
 I went for the box and put it in, and George 
 counted the money for us, and there were three 
 bills there, all clean and new." 
 
 *' And we told Harry how much it was, and 
 he put it in his little book," said Bessie ; " he 
 always keeps how much we have in his little 
 book, mamma." 
 
 " Some one has meddled with it," said Mr. 
 Bradford. " Tlie notes I gave the children 
 were all new ones on the Bank." 
 
 *' Will we never find our own dollars, do you 
 think, papa ? " said Maggie, with a very long 
 face, 
 
 "Yes, indeed, my darling, — at least, you 
 shall have others in their place. This loss 
 must not fall on you after all your efforts." 
 
 " I should have locked up the box," said 
 
The Bank-Notes, 295 
 
 Mrs. Bradford. '' I wish I had taken your ad- 
 vice, Henry." 
 
 Mr. Bradford took from his pocket-book two 
 other bank-notes, and gave them to the chil 
 dren. 
 
 *' I do not wish you to speak of this to any 
 one," he said to them ; and they promised to 
 obey. 
 
 Then mamma counted up all the money 
 and it came to seven dollars, sixty-nine cents, 
 — five for the library, and the rest for Mary's 
 sack ; for Mrs. Bradford said there was quite 
 enough to buy some warm, cheap cloth, and 
 she would let Jane make it at once, that it 
 might be ready. They should go out with her 
 that day and help choose the cloth. 
 
 Mr. Bradford carefully put away the coun- 
 terfeit note, thinking that it might help to find 
 out the guilty person, and when he went down- 
 stairs, called Harry and Fred into the library. 
 
296 Bessie in the City. 
 
 " Harry," he said, " bow much money was 
 in the children's box when you counted it for 
 them the other day ? " 
 
 " Five dollars, sixty-nine cents, papa, — here 
 't is written down; " and Harry, who was very 
 neat and orderly in all his ways, pulled out 
 his memorandum-book and read " M.'s and B.'s 
 box, Dec. 5th, 85.69 cents." This was the sum 
 which should have been in the box, and showed 
 that the money had been taken within the last 
 few days. Mr. Bradford told the boys of the 
 loss, for he wished that they should know of 
 it, but he charged them to be silent. Both he 
 and his wife were very uncomfortable. There 
 were one or two new servants iil the house, 
 but they had come with good characters, and 
 there was no reason to think they had taken 
 the money. None of them knew where it 
 was kept, or the secret of the box. Only one 
 besides their own children knew that. 
 
WWW^'WW^WWW^xi^^^iiii 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 DISCOVERT. 
 
 R. and Mrs. Moore and their son were 
 to leave early the next morning, and 
 as the day passed on, and George heard 
 nothing of the stolen money, he began to 
 think the loss would not be found out till he 
 had gone ; and then, he thought, he should be 
 quite safe. He did not dare to spend it now, 
 lest the Bradford children should wonder 
 where the money came from ; but when he 
 went home, he could easily do so without dis- 
 covery. He had been visiting at his uncle's 
 before he came here, and it would be very 
 easy to say he had given it to him. The last 
 time he had been there, his uncle had given 
 him five dollars ; but this time, nothing, Tliere 
 
298 Bessie in the City. 
 
 were, or there had been, more than five dol- 
 lars in that box ; why had he not taken it all ? 
 It was just as easy to say he had received five 
 dollars as two ; and when it was missed, it 
 would be thought some of the servants had 
 taken it, or that it had been lost through some 
 of Maggie's carelessness. He had gone so far 
 in sin now, that he did not hesitate to go 
 deeper and deeper ; and determined, if possi- 
 ble, to have the rest of the contents of the 
 box. 
 
 That evening it seemed as if " chance," as 
 he called it, was again about to favor him. 
 Mrs. Stanton and Miss Annie were there, and 
 after dinner all the ladies and the younger 
 children were gathered in the parlor; while 
 the two boys were at their lessons in the little 
 study-room at the head of the stairs. Mr. 
 Moore was out. Mr. Bradford had left the 
 room a short' time since, saying he, too, must 
 
Discovery, 299 
 
 go out for a while, and the servants, George 
 knew, were at their tea. Now was his time. 
 
 Making some excuse to leave the parlor, he 
 ran up-stairs till he reached the first turning. 
 The door of the study-room stood ajar. • Pshaw ! 
 The boys would hear him. He peeped in. 
 No one there but Harry, studying after his 
 usual fashion, with his elbows on the table, his 
 head between his hands, and his fingers thrust 
 into his ears to shut out all sound that might 
 take his attention from his book. Fred must 
 have gone to his own room in the third story. 
 He should hear him if he came down. Head- 
 long, noisy Fred was sure to give notice of 
 his coming. 
 
 But he must make haste. There is not a 
 moment to lose. Almost forgetting his cau- 
 tion in his guilty hurry, he ran quickly up 
 the few remaining steps, and along the hall to 
 Mrs. Bradford's room. He stole in as he had 
 
300 Bessie in the City, 
 
 done once before. The jet of gas in th© 
 burner over the dressing-bureau which hold 
 the coveted prize was turned down very low, 
 but the bright fire dancing in the grate made 
 the room quite light enough for his guilty 
 purpose. 
 
 He opened the drawer and took up the box. 
 How light it was ! and there was no rattle of 
 pennies, none of what dear little Maggie had 
 called, in the joy of her heart, " her log-cabin 
 music." He touched the spring, and the box 
 flew open. Empty ! He stood for a moment 
 looking into it, then turned it up to the firelight 
 to make sure there was nothing within. As 
 he did so, he heard steps behind him ; a hand 
 was laid upon his shoulder, and looking up 
 with a start, he saw Mr. Bradford's face 
 sternly bent upon him, while at his elbow he 
 met Fred's clear, honest eyes blazing with 
 scorn and indignation. His own fell to the 
 
Discovery, 301 
 
 ground, and there he stood, like the mean, 
 pitiful thing he was, trembling and cowering, 
 the open box still in his hand. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then 
 Fred broke forth. 
 
 " So it iDas you, you rascal ! you mean, 
 sneaking, cowardly thief I You are the fellow 
 that robs little girls of their hard-earned 
 money ! You — you — you — " Fred's pas- 
 sion was choking him. 
 
 " Hush, hush, my son ! " said Mr. Brad- 
 ford, sadly ; " it is not for you to reproach this 
 unhappy boy. Leave him to me. Go to your 
 play, if you can play after what you have 
 seen." 
 
 Fred laid both his own hands on that which 
 rested on George's shoulder. " Take your 
 hand from him then, father ; he is not fit to 
 be touched by an honest man, by an honora- 
 ble gentleman ! A thief! " 
 
302 Bessie tn the City. 
 
 " Go, go, Fred, and do not speak of this 
 till you see me again." 
 
 Fred obeyed, as he knew he must whea 
 his father spoke in that tone. 
 
 '-'- Now," said Mr. Bradford sternly to the 
 guilty boy, " go in there ; " and he pointed to 
 the door of his dressing-room. 
 
 Trembling, and fearing he knew not what, 
 but not daring to disobey, George did as he 
 was told. Mr. Bradford followed, silently 
 put beyond George's reach everything on 
 which he might lay his hands, locked every 
 drawer and closet, and then turned to leave 
 tlie room. 
 
 George started forward. '' What are you 
 going to do ? " he stammered. 
 
 " Leave you here till your father comes. I 
 cannot deal with you, for, thank God, you are 
 not my child." 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't!" said the wretched boy, 
 
Discovery, 303 
 
 falling on his knees. " Oh, I did not mean to 
 — I was only looking — he will punish me 
 so — I would not have taken — " 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Mr. Bradford, " and do 
 not kneel to me. Do not add to your sin by 
 trying to deny it, but think over what you 
 have done ; and when your poor father comes, 
 be ready to make confession to him, and to 
 the God against whom you have sinned." 
 
 '' But don't tell father ; he will be so angry ; 
 he minds such things so much. He — he 
 never would forgive me." 
 
 " And yet the son of such a father could 
 do this terrible thing ? I grieve to tell him, 
 George ; rather, far rather, even for my own 
 sake, would I pass over this in silence, and let 
 you go unpuntshed ; but it is a duty I owe to 
 you, as well as to him, not to let you go on 
 unchecked in sin. I see, too, poor boy, that it 
 is the fear of punishment, not of distressing 
 
304 Bessie in the City, 
 
 your kind father, which makes you so anxious 
 that 1 should not tell him. You do not yet 
 see your guilt, unhappy child ; you only dread 
 the pain and shame which it has brought 
 upon yourself." 
 
 As Mr. Bradford ceased speaking, Mr. 
 Moore's short, quick step was heard in the 
 hall, and the next moment he rapped upon 
 the door. Fred, going down-stairs, had met 
 him coming in, and was asked where George 
 was. He had answered, " Up-stairs ; " but he 
 had been so shocked and distressed by what 
 he had seen that Mr. Moore had noticed his 
 manner, and asked if anything were wrong 
 with George. Fred would not say what the 
 trouble was, but told Mr. Moore where he 
 would jGind his son. 
 
 Mr. Bradford opened the door. 
 
 " Fred told me that George was here," said 
 Mr. Moore, looking much disturbed. " What 
 
Discovery, 303 
 
 ? " he asked, as he saw his son's 
 guilty, miserable face. 
 
 " Will you tell your father, George, or shall 
 I ? " asked Mr. Bradford. 
 
 But George only cried and sobbed, saying, 
 " he did not mean to — it was very hard — he 
 was only looking" — till Mr. Moore onco 
 more asked Mr. Bradford to explain what all 
 this meant. 
 
 Mr. Bradford told the story in as few words 
 as possible, — how his little daughters had 
 shown George the secret of the box, telling 
 him why they were laying by the money ; 
 how that morning two of the notes had been 
 missed, and the false one found in their place 
 (as he spoke, taking the bill from his pocket- 
 book and handing it to Mr. Moore) ; how Mrs. 
 Bradford had put the rest of the money in a 
 safer place ; and lastly, how he and Fred had 
 .just seen George go to the drawer and tako 
 20 
 
3o6 Bessie in the City. 
 
 out the box, as if with the intention of adding 
 to his sin by a new theft. 
 
 It was a hard thing for Mr. Bradford to do ; 
 he knew how he should feel himself if one of 
 his own boys had done this. He was very 
 much grieved for his friend, and when he had 
 told all as gently as possible, he went away, 
 and left him alone with his unhappy son. 
 What passed between them it is not necessary 
 to tell you. George would have denied his 
 guilt even now, but the false note in his 
 father's hand made this impossible. 
 
 Maggie and Bessie did not see him again, 
 for Mr. and Mrs. Moore left the next morn- 
 ing at an hour even earlier than they had 
 intended ; for after this terrible sorrow had 
 come upon them, they felt that they could not 
 bear to meet any of Mr. Bradford's children 
 again. 
 
 Perhaps you may like to know how Fred 
 
Discovery, 307 
 
 and his father discovered George's guilt. It 
 so happened that Fred's quick temper had 
 brought him into more trouble at school, and 
 he did not know exactly how to act in the 
 matter. He had finished his lessons, and was 
 thinking this over when he heard his father 
 come up-stairs and go to his dressing-room. 
 
 " I've a great mind to tell papa, and see 
 what he says of it," he said to him<?elf. To 
 think and to do were with Fred one and the 
 same thing; and the next moment he was 
 with his father, asking if he would wait and 
 hear his story. He might have been sure of 
 that ; Mr. Bradford always had time to spare 
 if his children needed his help or advice. 
 
 Fred told his story, and they were sitting 
 talking it over in low tones when George's 
 step was heard in the next room. Tfie dress- 
 ing-room was quite in the shade, and though 
 George neither saw nor heard thosa yho were 
 
3o8 Bessie in the City, 
 
 within, he himself was plainly seen through 
 the open door, at his guilty work. 
 
 And now, like our Maggie and Bessie, we 
 need have no more to do with this poor boy, 
 and will take leave of him. The little girls 
 were not told that the thief had been dis- 
 covered. Their mother thought it would 
 only shock and distress them, while it could 
 serve no good purpose for them to know it. 
 They wondered, and talked of it between 
 themselves for a few days ; and then there 
 were so many pleasanter things to think of that 
 they forgot all about it. 
 
XV 
 
 THE SNOW. 
 
 'HESE were indeed pleasant times, and 
 HI very happy children were our Maggie 
 
 and Bessie. The only trouble was that night 
 would come, and put an end to first one and 
 then another of these delightful days, and 
 that, as Maggie said, they had to stop enjoy- 
 ing themselves "just to go to sleep." 
 
 " I wish the sun always shone in this coun- 
 try," she said, " and that night never, never 
 came." 
 
 " What would the little children on the 
 other side of the world say to that ? " said 
 papa. "If you had the ruling of day and 
 night, and kept the sun all the time on one 
 
3l6 Bessie in the City. 
 
 side, how do you think they would like to 
 have it always night ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I did not think about that," said 
 Maggie. " I suppose it would be pretty selfish. 
 I guess I had better wish for two suns, one on 
 our side, and one on theirs." 
 
 " Or, better still, rest satisfied that our heav- 
 enly Father has ordered all thin-gs, night and 
 day, sun, moon, and stars, as is best for his 
 own glory and the happiness and comfort of 
 all his creatures," said Mr. Bradford. '' 1 
 think even my wide-awake Maggie would tire 
 of the light of the sun if it should shine for 
 the twenty-four hours, day after day, and the 
 quiet, blessed night never come, when we 
 might close our tired eyes, and take the rest 
 we need." 
 
 " Could we not sleep "in the day-time if we 
 were tired, papa ? " 
 
 " We might sleep, but not as well or as 
 
The Snow, 311 
 
 pleasantly as we now do when all is dark and 
 quiet." 
 
 *' Then if I was to wish for two suns, I'd 
 better wish we should never be tired or 
 sleepy." 
 
 *' So you might go on wishing forever, and 
 if you had the power, changing first one and 
 then another of the wise laws which our Fa- 
 ther in heaven has made for the good of all. 
 And what distress and confusion this would 
 make ! What a miserable, unhappy world 
 this would be if you, or some other weak, 
 human creature who cannot see the end from 
 the beginning, and cannot tell what would be 
 the consequence of his wishes, were allowed 
 such power. No, we may thank God, not only 
 that he does what is best for us, but also that 
 he has allowed none but himself to be the 
 judge of this." 
 
 " So I had better be contented to have the 
 
312 Bessie in the City, 
 
 night as it is, papa ; is that what you mean ? 
 Perhaps other people would not like to have 
 things as I did, and they might think I was a 
 very disagreeable child to have them my way ; 
 and I should not like that at all." 
 
 " I would not be glad if there was never 
 any night," said Bessie, who was always more 
 ready than her sister to go to rest. 
 
 " Then I wont wish it," said Maggie ; 
 " and I shall just always try to think ' our 
 Father ' knows best, even if I don't feel 
 quite suited myself." 
 
 One afternoon, about dark, it began to 
 snow, much to the children's delight; for 
 grandmamma had promised a sleigh-ride 
 whenever it should be possible. All night the 
 soft, feathery flakes fell gently and steadily, 
 so that in the morning the ground was cov- 
 ered thickly with a beautiful white mantle. 
 
 Since the weather had become cold, each 
 
The Snow. 313 
 
 day, after breakfast, Maggie and Bessie were 
 allowed to throw out crumbs for the spar- 
 rows and chickadees, who came about the 
 house to find something to eat. The birds 
 seemed to know the hour almost as well as 
 the children, and seldom came for their 
 breakfast before the right time. But on 
 this morning the little girls were scarcely 
 down-stairs, when their brother called them 
 to come and see what a flock of their pets 
 had already gathered on the piazza and win- 
 dow-ledge. For the ground being all covered 
 with snow, there were no stray crumbs or 
 seeds to be found ; and the chickadees and 
 sparrows, being early risers, found themselves 
 hungry and in need of their regular break- 
 fast rather sooner than usual ; and now the 
 prints of their tiny feet were to be seen all 
 over the snow, while twice the ordinary 
 number of birds hopped about the piazza. 
 
314 Bessie in the City, 
 
 or perched upon the railing and window- 
 ledge, chirping away, twitching their little 
 heads from side to side, and watching the 
 children with their bright, twinkling eyes 
 as if asking what made them so late. 
 
 Away ran Maggie to ask Patrick for a 
 piece of bread, and came back with a rush 
 and a jump and a sudden shove at the win- 
 dow which put every mother's bird of them 
 to flight. In her hurry to feed them, she 
 quite forgot that they were so easily startled, 
 and was much distressed when she saw them 
 all flying off in a great fright. 
 
 However, the bread was crumbled and 
 thrown out ; and by the time prayers were 
 over, the whole flock were back again, peck- 
 ing away with much satisfaction, and twit- 
 tering and chirping as if they were telling 
 each other what very kind people lived in 
 this house, and how thankful they should 
 
The Snow, 315 
 
 be for such good friends. At least, this was 
 what Maggie told Frankj they meant, as 
 he watched them with his chubby face pressed 
 close against the window-pane. 
 
 " No shoes and stottins," said he. " Poor 
 birdies ! Dere foots too told. Mamma buy 
 shoe for birdies." 
 
 His little sisters thought this very sweet 
 and funny in Franky, and they hugged and 
 kissed him till he thought he had said some- 
 thing very fine, and kept repeating it over 
 and over again. 
 
 Pretty soon it stopped ^snowing, and the 
 sun came out. Then Maggie and Bessie were 
 much amused in watching the people clearing 
 the snow from the sidewalks, and the boys 
 snow-balling one another. Presently Mrs. 
 Bradford missed Franky from the room. 
 As she had the baby, she could not go after 
 him, but sent Maggie. 
 
310 Bessie in the City, 
 
 She ran from room to room, but could not 
 find her little brother. When she opened 
 the nursery door, and put in her head, she 
 rather wondered to see the bureau-drawers 
 open, and several things lying scattered oyer 
 the floor ; but she did not think much about 
 it, for there was no one there, and she must 
 find Franky. As she went down-stairs 
 again, she saw the back-door was standing 
 open, and went to shut it. Here she met 
 Franky coming in with very rosy cheeks, and 
 his face all smiles, as if he were well pleased 
 with himself. 
 
 " Oh, Franky ! " said Maggie, " what made 
 you go out in the cold with no hat and coat ? 
 Didn't you hear me calling you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Franky. 
 
 " Then why didn't you come ? " 
 
 '' Me too busy," said the little boy ; and 
 away he ran into the parlor, while Maggie 
 
The Snow, 317 
 
 went to shut the door. To her great surprise, 
 she saw the piazza strewn with shoes and 
 stockings, — her own, Bessie's, and Franky's, 
 and even a pair or two of baby's little worsted 
 socks. She came in, and followed Franky. 
 
 " Franky," said Mrs. Bradford, " did you 
 not hear mamma calling?" 
 
 " Yes'm," said he again, " but me too 
 busy." 
 
 " But you must always come right away 
 when mamma calls. What were you do- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Me dave de birdies shoes and stottins," 
 said Franky ; " dere foots too told." 
 
 Then Maggie told her mother what Franky 
 had done, and nurse coming in just then, Mrs. 
 Bradford sent her to see. Sure enough, the 
 little rogue had gone up-stairs, and filling his 
 skirt with his own and his sisters' shoes and 
 stockings, had scattered them upon the piaz^za, 
 
3i8 Bessie in trie City, 
 
 thinking that the birds could make use of 
 them. Maggie and Bessie thought this a 
 most capital joke, and even nurse, who was 
 much displeased, could not help smiling as 
 she heard their merry peals of laughter. 
 Mamma did not scold Franky, for she did not 
 think he meant to do anything naughty, but 
 she told him he must never do so again, and 
 that the birds did not need shoes and stock- 
 ings to keep their feet warm. 
 
 " But, mamma," said Maggie, " how is it the 
 birds do not have their feet frozen in the sno"v^ 
 and the cold ? If we were to go hopping 
 about with bare feet, it would hurt very much, 
 and we would be sick ; but the sparrows do 
 not mind it at all." 
 
 " Because God has fitted them, dear, as he 
 has all his creatures, for the life which he 
 means them to lead. He has given to the 
 sparrows and chickadees, not soft, tender feet 
 
The ^now, 319 
 
 like yours, but horny claws on which they 
 can hop over the snow and gravel without 
 feeling the cold, or being hurt. See by this 
 how he has cared for all he has made ; the 
 smallest or weakest bird or animal is known 
 and watched over by his all-seeing eye. 
 When our Saviour was on earth, he chose 
 these little birds to teach us a most precious 
 lesson. Once when he was talking to his dis- 
 ciples, after telling them that they were to 
 fear God, and not man, he wished to show 
 them how constant and watchful was God's 
 care of his people, and he said, ' Are not two 
 sparrows sold for a farthing ? and one of them 
 shall not fall to the ground without your 
 Father. But the very hairs of your head are 
 all numbered. Fear ye not therefore ; ye 
 are of more value than many sparrows.' A 
 Roman farthing was less than a cent and 
 a half, so that one of these sparrows cost 
 
320 Bessie in the City, 
 
 less than a penny, and this was meant to 
 teach us that if each of these little birds which 
 was wortli so small a sum is known and re- 
 membered by the Almighty ; if not one of 
 them can fall and die unless he sees it, how 
 great must be his care and love for us, whom 
 he has called ' of more value than many spar- 
 rows,' and for whom he gave his only Son to 
 die upon the cross. It is a very sweet and 
 comforting thought to know that he never for- 
 gets us, and that no harm can come near us, 
 unless he knows and permits it." 
 
 " And it ought to make us think that he 
 sees what we are doing, and knows if we are 
 even a little bit naughty. Ought it not, 
 mamma ? " said Bessie. 
 
 " Yes, darling, and it should make us very 
 careful not to grieve or displease him by even 
 a wicked thought or angry feeling." 
 
 " 'Cause when he sees it, he thinks we are 
 
The Snow. 321 
 
 ungrateful about his Jesus," said the thought- 
 ful little Bessie. 
 
 This was Saturday and a holiday, when the 
 children had no lessons, and the boys did not 
 go to school ; and about twelve o'clock Harry 
 and Fred came in with Tom Norris, Walter 
 Stone, and Johnny Ransom ; they were all four 
 going into the yard to build a snow-man, and 
 Harry begged that his sisters might go, too, 
 saying that he and Fred would take care of 
 them. Mamma had no doubt of this, and she 
 said Maggie might go, but she was afraid to 
 have Bessie play in the snow, lest she should 
 take cold. Maggie said she would not go if 
 her sister might not ; but Bessie told her to 
 go, and she would stand at the library-window 
 and watch them at their work. Maggie still 
 hesitated, but her mother said she would see 
 that her sister did not feel lonely while she 
 21 
 
322 Bessie in the City, 
 
 was gone, and having been well wrapped up, 
 she at last went with the boys. 
 
 To say that Bessie was not disappointed and 
 did not very much wish that she, too, might 
 have a share in the delightful play, would not 
 be true. But though a tear came into her 
 eye as she saw the others run off, she bore it 
 bravely. 
 
 " Mamma, you would be sure to let me go 
 if you thought it best ; wouldn't you ? " she 
 asked, lifting her face to her mother to be 
 kissed. 
 
 " Indeed, I would, my sweet child ; you may 
 be certain mamma would never take from you 
 any pleasure she thought safe for you ; but it 
 would be wrong and foolish in me to let you 
 go when you would probably take cold and be 
 sick. And now what shall we do to amuse 
 ourselves. If you like to stand by the window 
 and see the boys, I will bring my work and 
 
The Snow. 323 
 
 tell jou a story, or we will sit by the fire, and 
 I will read to you." 
 
 Bessie chose the first, for she said that 
 would be two pleasures at one time. 
 
 When Mrs. Bradford came back witli her 
 work-basket, Bessie was standing on a chair 
 by the window, and she turned to her mother 
 with a very bright face. 
 
 " Mamma," she said, " come and see what 
 a nice time Maggie is having. I think I am 
 'most glad you didn't let me go, 'cause if I was 
 playing myself, I could not see how much she 
 'joys herself. Just hear her laugh ! " and Bes- 
 sie laughed merrily herself. 
 
 Mamma stooped and kissed her sweet-tem- 
 pered, generous little daughter, who, instead 
 of fretting and making herself and others 
 miserable because she could not do as she 
 wished, not only contented herself with the 
 pleasures which were left to her, but really 
 
324 Bessie m the City, 
 
 tried to find comfort in her very disappoiut- 
 ment. 
 
 Maggie did indeed seem to be enjoying her- 
 self. The boys had begun their snow-man. 
 but she found that rather hard work, and, hav- 
 ing asked leave, was snow-balling her playfel- 
 lows with all her might. She was not very 
 apt to hit them, for her small hands could not 
 take very sure aim in her thick worsted mit- 
 tens ; but whenever she missed her mark, she 
 became only more eager, and, hit or miss, her 
 gleeful laugh rang out all the same. Mrs 
 Bradford found that no story was needed ; so 
 engaged was Bessie in watching the frolicsome 
 antics of her sister, that she had no thought 
 of anything else. In the height of her play, 
 Maggie did not forget every few moments to 
 stop and kiss her hand and nod and smile at 
 the two dear faces in the library-window. 
 When her mother thought she had been out 
 
The Snow, 325 
 
 long enough, she called her in, and she came 
 all glowing and rosy with her play in the fresh, 
 cold air. 
 
 '' Tom says the sleighing is splendid, I 
 hope grandmamma wont forget us." 
 
 '-'• No fear of that," said mamma ; and she 
 had scarcely spoken when Aunt Annie's smil- 
 ing face appeared at the door. 
 
 " Well, little polar-bear, where did you 
 come from ? " she asked, taking hold of the 
 bundle of furs and wrappings which called 
 itself Maggie. 
 
 " Out of the icebergs to eat you up," 
 growled Maggie, pretending to be the bear 
 Aunt Annie had called her. 
 
 " Yery well, sir, I suppose you have a good 
 appetite since you have come so far ; but, of 
 course, if I am eaten up, you cannot expect 
 my mother to go sleigh-riding with the fellow 
 that has made a meal upon her child." 
 
326 , Bessie in the City, 
 
 When Maggie heard this, she declared that 
 she was no longer a polar-bear, but just Aunt 
 Annie's own little niece, wlto would not eat hei 
 up even if she were starving, and whom it 
 was quite safe to take sleigh-inding. Both 
 she and Bessie were wild with delight. Tliej 
 could scarcely eat tlieir dinner, and the mo- 
 ment it was over, ran away to the nursery to 
 be dressed for the ride. 
 
 When the sleigh came to the door, Aunt 
 Annie said she had two polar-bears to ride 
 with her, and pretended to be quite alarmed. 
 But both the bears proved to be very Well-be- 
 haved, and neither bit nor scratched ; although 
 they did now and then hug a little as they sat, 
 the one' between mamma and grandmamma, 
 and the other between Aunt Annie and Aunt 
 Helen ; for Aunt Helen had come from River- 
 side to make her mother a visit and to stay till 
 after Christmas. 
 
The Snow, 327 
 
 " We are to have a Christmas tree, Aunt 
 Helen," said Maggie. 
 
 " And all our people are to come," said 
 Bessie. 
 
 " We have a great deal to do yet," said 
 Maggie. " There are a great many presents 
 to buy, and Christmas will be here one week 
 from yesterday, mamma said so. Aunt An 
 nie, you said you would take us shopping 
 for those things mamma is not to know 
 about." 
 
 *' Very well," said Aunt Annie, laughing. 
 *' I suppose 1 may as well give up Monday to 
 it, if your mother will let you go." 
 
 Mamma was quite willing it should be so, if 
 the weather were fine. The things which she 
 was not to know about were her own, and 
 papa's Christmas presents. The book-marks 
 were all worked. Those for Colonel and Mrs 
 Rush were quite finished and laid away ; but 
 
328 Bessie in the City. 
 
 the two which were intended for papa and 
 mamma still wanted the ribbon, and this was 
 one of the things to be bought. Then Mag- 
 gie was to buy some trifle for papa, and Bessie 
 one for mamma. They were not trifles to 
 them, however, but very great and important 
 purchases, and there was a great deal of whis- 
 pering and hiding in corners. It was rather a 
 singular circumstance, but one which was very 
 convenient, that mamma never asked what 
 they were doing, or even seemed to see that 
 they were engaged with some work in which 
 she was not asked to help. 
 
 They had a lovely drive. All the sleighs 
 and cutters in the city seemed to have turned 
 out for the first fine sleighing ; and the air 
 was full of the jingling of the merry bells, 
 and the shouts and laughter of the boys as 
 they pelted each other with snow-balls, or 
 went skimming along on their sleds. The 
 
The Snow, 329 
 
 Central Park looked beautiful in its pure 
 white dress which lay so smoothly, just as it 
 had fallen from the liand of the kind Father 
 above ; and Maggie said the trees and bushes 
 thought white feathers were becoming, and so 
 had dressed themselves out as if they were 
 going to a Christmas party. 
 
XVL 
 
 SHOPPING FOR CHRISTMAS. 
 
 N Monday afternoon Aunt Annie came 
 for the children, according to promise, 
 and Aunt Helen was with her. 
 
 " For 1 have a little business with Maggie," 
 said Mrs. Duncan ; " but no one else is to 
 know what it is, so mamma and Bessie are to 
 ask no questions." 
 
 This was delightfully mysterious. 
 
 " Nobody is to ask questions at Christmas- 
 time," said Bessie, gravely. " Mamma made 
 that yule." 
 
 *' And it is a wise one too," said Aunt 
 Helen. 
 
 " How long do you suppose our Meg can 
 keep a secret, Aunt Helen ? " asked Fred. 
 
Shopping for Christmas, 331 
 
 " I know she has kept one for three months 
 so well, that I am gohig to trust her with a 
 second." 
 
 " Pretty good for Midget," said Fred. 
 
 It was indeed a triumph for heedless Mag- 
 gie. So carefully had she kept the secret of 
 the picture, not even saying, " I know some- 
 thing," or, " Something is going to happen," 
 that mamma suspected nothing ; and though 
 Bessie knew tliere was a secret, she had not 
 the least idea what it might be. 
 
 Aunt Helen started first with Maggie, tell- 
 ing her sister Annie and Bessie to meet them 
 in a certain book-store. 
 
 *' Now, Maggie," she said when they were 
 in the street. " I am going to reward you for 
 keeping our secret by letting you choose the 
 frame for the picture." 
 
 The little girl was delighted, but when they 
 reached the store, and she saw frames of all 
 
332 Bessie in the City, 
 
 kinds and sizes, she became confused, and 
 could not tell which to decide upon 
 
 " That one is too large," said Mrs. Duncan, 
 as Maggie pointed out one she thought she 
 should like. " No, dear, that is too small 
 again. There," and her aunt laid four or five 
 of tiie proper size, in front of the child; 
 *' any of those will do ; suppose you choose 
 one from among them." 
 
 So, after some more hesitation, Maggie chose 
 a dark walnut frame, with silver nails ; and 
 Aunt Helen said she had shown very good 
 taste. Then Mrs. Duncan gave the man di- 
 rections about the picture, which she had sent 
 to him in the morning. He bowed and wrote 
 them down, and then said, looking at the 
 rosy, happy face which was peeping at him 
 over the counter, " 'Tis a capital likeness 
 too, ma'am ; never saw a better." 
 
 " Aunt Helen," said Maggie, as they left 
 
Shoj>fing for Chrishnas, '^'t^i^ 
 
 the store, " did that man mean he knew our 
 Bessie, and thought you made a good picture 
 of her ? " 
 
 " I thought you were to ask no questions at 
 Christmas-time," said Mrs. Duncan. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Ma^o-ie. " I did not know I 
 must not ask about things like that ; I thought 
 mamma meant bundles and work, and such 
 things." 
 
 Aunt Helen only laughed, and began to talk 
 of something else, and presently they came to 
 the book-store, where Annie and Bessie were 
 waiting for them. 
 
 At the lower end of this store was a large 
 table, and upon it were a number of beauti- 
 ful and useful things intended for presents. 
 There were waiting-cases and work-boxes, pa- 
 per-cutters and weights, beautiful pictures 
 and all kinds of knick-knacks. 
 
 '' Aunt Helen,-' said Maggie, eagerly, " do 
 
334 Bessie in the City, 
 
 you not think we could find sometliing oii 
 that table that would make nice presents for 
 papa and mamma ? " 
 
 " I do not doubt it," said Mrs. Duncan, " if 
 you could pay for them ; but I fear, dear 
 Maggie, all those pretty things are quite too 
 expensive for you to buy." 
 
 '' Well," said the little girl, with a sigh, 
 "I suppose we may look at them while you 
 and Aunt Annie buy your books ; may we 
 not ? " 
 
 " If I thought I could trust you not to 
 touch anything, you might. But some of 
 those tilings are very costly, and you might 
 do much mischief if you meddled with them." 
 
 " Aunt Helen," said Bessie, looking up 
 with a very sober face, " we never meddle 
 when we go shopping. Mamma has taught us 
 that, and gen-yally we yemember what she 
 tells us." 
 
Shopping for Christmas, 335 
 
 *'I" believe you do," said Mrs. Duncan, 
 smiling. "Well, then, I will trust you;" 
 and she and her sister walked to the other 
 end of the store to look at some books, leaving 
 the children to amuse themselves. 
 
 A gentleman was sitting near the table 
 reading a newspaper, and when Bessie had 
 spoken out so solemnly, he had looked up 
 with a twinkle in his eye. The little girls did 
 not notice him, however, nor did he seem to 
 be paying attention to them. They walked 
 round and round, now peeping at this thing, 
 now at that, but never offering to lay a finger 
 upon one. 
 
 "Oh," said Maggie. "I do wish, I do 
 wish we could buy some of these beautiful 
 things for papa and mamma ! But I suppose 
 we'll have to wait till we're quite grown up, 
 and then perliaps they will all be gone. Just 
 see tliis paper-weight, Bessie. Would it not 
 
33^ Bessie in the City* 
 
 be nice for papa ? But I think it costs a great 
 deal, and I can only afford twenty cents." 
 
 " And see this lovely little picture, Maggie. 
 Mamma would like it so, I know. See, it has 
 the cross and a pretty vine all around it, and 
 some words. Can you yead it ? " 
 
 " S-i-m — sim," spelt Maggie, " p-l-y — ply, 
 simply — to — thy — cross — Oh ! it must be 
 ' Simply to thy cross I cling.' " 
 
 " Yes," said Bessie, " it's out of ' Yock of 
 Ages,' and mamma loves that hymn so much. 
 Oh ! I do want it for her ! Do you think 
 twenty cents will buy it, Maggie ? " 
 
 "I guess not ; but we'll ask. I'd like to be 
 grown up for two things, so I'd never have to 
 go to bed till I chose, and so I could have 
 plenty of money to give everybody everything 
 they wanted. Just see that picture of a dog, 
 Bessie. Does it not look like our Flossy ? I 
 wish it was nearer, so we could see it better." 
 
SJioffing for Christmas. 337 
 
 <' I can't see it at all," said Bessie, raising 
 herself on tiptoe, to gain a view of tlie picture 
 which was in the centre of the table. " I 
 wish it was nearer, but we must not touch." 
 
 " I'd like to see him better, too," said Mag- 
 gie. " I want to know if he really is like 
 Flossy, or if he just looks so 'cause he is so 
 far off; I know I wouldn't break it either if I 
 moved it; but then — we promised." 
 
 " And mamma said we were never to touch 
 without permission," said Bessie ; " and we're 
 trusted." 
 
 They both stood for some minutes, Maggie 
 looking wishfully at the dog, Bessie still stretch- 
 ing up her neck in a vain attempt to see him, 
 when Maggie suddenly said, " Bessie, mam- 
 ma said it was not right to put ourselves in 
 the way of temptation, and I think I am 
 doing it. This was just the way I did the 
 day I meddled with papa's inkstand. I stood 
 22 
 
335 • i^essie in the City, 
 
 looking at it, and looking at it, and wishing 1 
 had it, till at last I touched it, and did such a 
 lot of mischief. I sha'n't look 'at the dog any 
 more, and let's go to the other side, and we 
 wont think about it." 
 
 As they turned to do as Maggie proposed, 
 they saw a miserable-looking face peeping in 
 at the glass door. It was that of a boy about 
 eight years old, poor, and in rags, his features 
 all pinched with cold and hunger. He was 
 gazing wistfully at the pretty things and the 
 comfortably-dressed people who were within, 
 and perhaps wishing that Christmas brought 
 such happiness to him. As one after another 
 passed in and out, he held up his thin hand 
 and asked for help, but few heeded him. 
 
 '' See that poor boy," said Bessie ; '' I don't 
 believe he has any money to buy Christmas 
 presents." 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said Maggie ; " I guess he 
 
Shop.pmg for Christmas* 339 
 
 has not enough to buy bread and fire ; he 
 looks so cold and thin, and what dreadful old 
 clothes he has ! " 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Bessie, in a pitying 
 voice. " I s'pose he would like some money 
 very much. Do you think we could spare 
 him a little of ours, Maggie ? " 
 
 " If we do, we can't spend so much for our 
 presents," answered Maggie, pulling out her 
 portmonnaie from her muff and looking 
 doubtfully at it. 
 
 " Do you think papa and mamma would 
 mind it, Maggie, if we each gave the boy five^ 
 cents, and did not spend quite twenty for 
 them ? " 
 
 " I don't like to take it off papa's and 
 mamma's presents," said Maggie. " They are 
 so very good to us, I want to give them all we 
 can ; but, Bessie, I'll tell you. You know I 
 was going to spend ten cents for you, and you 
 
340 Bessie in the Czty, 
 
 ten cents for me. Now we might only spend 
 five cents for each other, and then we can 
 each give five to the boy. I don't mind, if 
 you don't, Bessie." 
 
 " No, Maggie, I'd yather give it to him, and 
 then maybe he'll look a little glad." 
 
 So each taking five cents from her pocket- 
 book, tliey ran to the door and put the money 
 into the poor boy's hand, who did indeed look 
 " a little glad " as he received it. 
 
 When they came back to the table, the pic- 
 ture of the dog stood just in front, where not 
 only Maggie but Bessie, also, could see it quite 
 plainly. 
 
 " I hope nobody will think we meddled with 
 that picture," said Bessie. 
 
 " No one shall think so," said the gentle- 
 man, who had been sitting near, as he rose and 
 threw down his paper. " I moved it myself." 
 
 " Then, if you please, sir," said Bessie, 
 
Shof^ing for Christmas. 341 
 
 " will you tell the store people you did it ? I 
 s'pose they wouldn't think you were naughty, 
 'cause you're big ; but we are forbidden to 
 touch, and we were trusted." 
 
 " And I see you are fit to be trusted," said 
 the gentleman, smiling ; " and I have a right to 
 touch what I please here, for the store and all 
 the things in it belong to me. Is there nothing 
 upon the table which you would like to buy ? '* 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Bessie, while Maggie was 
 hanging her head in a terrible fit of shyness 
 at being talked to by this stranger, " if we 
 could afford it ; but we think all these things 
 cost too much. We have not a very great 
 deal of money." 
 
 " Let me hear what you would like to have, 
 and I can tell you the price," said the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 '' How much is that paper-weight ? " asked 
 Bessie. 
 
342 Bessie in the City, 
 
 " Fifteen cents." 
 
 Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Maggie lookea 
 up in great surprise. 
 
 '' And this cross, sir, how much is that ? " 
 said Bessie. 
 
 " That, also, is fifteen cents." 
 
 " Then we'll take them both for papa and 
 mamma. I think you are a very cheap gen- 
 tleman, sir. We thought they would be too 
 'spensive for us to buy," said the little girl. 
 " Mamma will be very pleased with this lovely 
 picture." 
 
 '' I hope so," said the gentleman. " Such 
 a good mamma as you have deserves to have 
 a present that will please her." 
 
 " Do you know my mamma, sir ? " asked 
 Bessie, as she handed him the price of her 
 picture. 
 
 " No, but I am sure your mamma is a lady 
 and a good woman, although I do not knoTV 
 
Shoffing for Ch?'zstmas. 3.J.3 
 
 her, and I am sure, also, that she has taught 
 you well, and that you have paid heed to her 
 lessons." 
 
 Bessie was herself quite certain of all this, 
 but she wondered how the gentleman could 
 know it when he was a stranger to her mother. 
 Perhaps you and I may be able to guess. 
 
 " And papa deserves a nice present, too," 
 she said ; " he is an excellent gentleman." 
 
 *' I have not a doubt of it," said her new 
 friend. " And now I suppose you would like 
 to have your purchases wrapped up, so that 
 your papa and mamma may not see them be- 
 fore the proper time." 
 
 " We would like to show them to our aunt 
 first," said Bessie ; and she and Maggie scam- 
 pered off with their treasures. 
 
 But when Aunt Helen saw them, she said 
 there must be some mistake. " Those things 
 are worth much more than you have paid for 
 
344 Bessie in the City. 
 
 them, my darlings, you have misunderstood ; 
 or some one has been joking with you." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed. Aunt Helen, we did not 
 make a mistake, and the gentleman was quite 
 sober," said Maggie. 
 
 " Who sold them to you ? " asked Mrs. 
 Duncan. 
 
 Bessie pointed out the person, and Mrs. 
 Duncan went to speak to him. Her little nieces 
 looked after her with anxious eyes, fearing 
 lest they might have made some mistake, and 
 that their new treasures would be taken from 
 them, and Bessie ran up just in time to hear 
 the gentleman say, with a laugh, " Surely, I 
 may put what price I please upon the articles 
 I have for sale." 
 
 Mrs. Duncan laughed, too, and said, " Yes, 
 certainly, but — " 
 
 " I assure you, I have been amply paid, 
 madam," said the gentleman, " and I beg 
 
Shoffing for Christmas. 345 
 
 you will consider the matter settled. It is 
 all right, little one," laying his hand on Bes- 
 sie's head as she looked up at him ; " you 
 have made no mistake ; " and then taking the 
 paper-weight and picture, he wrapped them in 
 paper and returned them to the children. 
 
 From this store they went to another, 
 where they were a long time choosing the 
 ribbon for their book-marks, while Aunt 
 Helen and Annie waited with wonderful 
 patience till they had decided this important 
 question. Here, also, a pincushion was bought 
 for nurse, and an emery-bag for Jane. Then 
 Maggie, coming back from a show-case, about 
 which she had been spying, begged Aunt 
 Annie to go to the other end of the store, 
 and on no account to turn her head. Aunt 
 Helen was taken to the case, and a box 
 was pointed out which Maggie thought 
 would be the very thing for a ribbon-box. 
 
34^ Bessie in the City, 
 
 *' But you cannot buy that, dear," said 
 Mrs. Duncan ; " it is too expensive." 
 
 " Oh, no, Aunt Helen ! it is marked five 
 cents, — just see," said Maggie. 
 
 "My poor pet, that is five dollars, not 
 five cents." 
 
 This was a great disappointment, for Mag- 
 gie had quite set her heart on the box ; but, 
 of course, she and Bessie could not give five 
 dollars, since they had not the half of that 
 to spend. 
 
 " It's real mean," she said, angrily, '' to 
 go and cheat children so, and make them 
 think it's five cents when it's five dollars." 
 
 "Do not speak so, dear," said her aunt; 
 *' ' cheat ' is not a pretty word for you to use, 
 and those numbers mean five dollars very 
 plainly to any one who can read them. Ask 
 papa to teach you about that to-night." 
 
 '' Let's go back and buy all our presents of 
 
Shoffing for Christmas. 347 
 
 that gentleman," said Maggie. "■ He knows 
 how to keep store a great deal better than 
 these people." 
 
 " Better for your purses than for his own, 1 
 think," said Mrs. Duncan, laughing. " No, 
 dear, we have bought enough there for this 
 time. We will find something else for Aunt 
 Annie." 
 
 " Maggie, Maggie," called Bessie, " come 
 and look at the cunningest glass animals you 
 ever saw in your life." 
 
 Maggie's displeasure was quite forgotten as 
 she saw the pretty toys, and as she and Bes- 
 sie were looking at tl:^em. Aunt Annie joined 
 them. 
 
 " What a beautiful glass cat ! " she said. " I 
 wish Santa Claus would have one like it on 
 the Christmas-tree for me. I should put it on 
 my what-not, and I do not believe that a mouse 
 would dare to show so much as the tip of his 
 
348 Bessie in the City. 
 
 tail in my room, if I bad this pussy to guard 
 me." 
 
 *' Oh, Aunt Annie," said Maggie; "just as 
 if a mouse would be afraid of such a mite of 
 a glass kitty ! He would know it could not 
 burt him." 
 
 " Well," said Annie, " if you see Santa 
 Claus, just tell him I would like to have it." 
 
 Maggie turned and looked at Bessie with a 
 shake of her bead, and eyes which very plainly 
 asked the question. " Shall we buy it for 
 her ? " and Bessie answered with a nod which 
 said quite as plainly, " By all means." 
 
 So they begged Aunt Annie to walk away 
 once more, a request which she had quite ex- 
 pected, and she went off laughing. Bessie 
 asked the price of the cat, and was told, " six 
 cents," so there was no difficulty about that, 
 and pussy was bought. Then, after some 
 whispering, Mrs. Duncan was sent after An- 
 
Sh of ping fo r Chris tnias. 3 49 
 
 nie, and a glass deer was bought for her 
 etagere. The woman who served the children 
 brought a small box, and putting some cotton 
 in it, laid the deer and the cat upon it, and 
 gave the box into Maggie's hand, saying that 
 she could carry them safely in this way. Mag- 
 gie told Bessie that the woman knew how to 
 keep store pretty well, after all. 
 
 One or two more small purchases were 
 made, and then they went home. They went 
 shopping several times with mamma or their 
 aunts before all their presents were bought ; 
 but two days before Christmas everything was 
 ready, — the book-marks with, "To my dear 
 Father," and " To my dear Mother," as well 
 as those for Colonel and Mrs. Rush, a watch- 
 man's rattle for noisy Fred, and for Harry, 
 since he was fond of birds, a yellow wooden 
 canary in a pewter cage. It would take too 
 long to name each article, and the person for 
 
350 Bessie in the City, 
 
 whom it was intended ; but not one of tho 
 family, or of their intimate friends, was for- 
 gotten. Papa and mamma, brothers and sis- 
 ters, aunts, uncle, and cousins, grandmamma 
 and the two grandpapas, Colonel and Mrs. 
 Rush, Jemmy and Mary Bent, and even each 
 servant in the house were remembered and 
 provided for ; and the older people were quite 
 astonished to see how much the children had 
 done with the two dollars and sixty cents 
 with which they had started. 
 
 And now began the grand preparations for 
 the important day. The Christmas-tree in its 
 square green box came home, and was carried 
 into the library, where the children were now 
 forbidden to go. The " grown-upers," as 
 Fred called them, were passing in and out 
 all tlie time, going in laden with parcels of 
 all shapes and sizes, and coming out empty- 
 handed. But if the older people had their 
 
Shopping for Christmas, 351 
 
 secrets, the children, also, had theirs, not the 
 least of which was one in which the four eldest 
 were engaged, and which was carried on for a 
 while in the boys' room. 
 
 The tree was not to be displayed until the 
 evening of Christmas-day, when there was to 
 be a large family dinner at Mrs. Bradford's, to 
 which Colonel and Mrs. Rush were invited. 
 
XVII. 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 HO is going to hang up a stocking to- 
 night ? " asked Fred, as the children 
 watched their father and uncle while they 
 dressed the room with greens on Christmas -eve. 
 
 '"I shall," said Harry. 
 
 " And I," said Maggie. 
 
 " I don't know about it," said Bessie ; 
 " maybe Santa Glaus will think we are greedy, 
 if we hang up our stockings when we are go- 
 ing to have a Christmas-tree." 
 
 " No, pet," said Harry ; '* he's a generous 
 old fellow, and, besides, he'll know that we 
 don't expect much in our stockings. We'll 
 leave a little note, telling him we only do it 
 for the fun of the thing." 
 
Christmas. 353 
 
 " He'll scorch his old legs coming down the 
 chimney to-night," laughed Fred ; *' there's a 
 roaring big fire in mamma's grate." 
 
 " Oh, he's used to it," said Harry ; " ho 
 minds neither heat nor cold." 
 
 " Maggie," said Fred, "• if you hear a scram- 
 bling and pawing in mamma's chimney to- 
 night, you can jump up and take a look at 
 him through the crack of the door." 
 
 " We wouldn't be so mean," answered Mag- 
 gie. " If he meant us to see him, he would 
 come in the day-time when we are up ; and if 
 he knew we did it, perhaps he'd just go whisk- 
 ing up the chimney, and not leave us a single 
 thing." 
 
 " Hurrah for honest Maggie ! " said Fred. 
 " I hope Santa Clans is around somewhere, 
 and heard you say that. He'll give you a re- 
 ward for it." 
 
354 Bessie in the City, 
 
 '' Children," said Bessie, " you talk as if 
 Santa Claus yeally was." 
 
 " You don't mean to say he really is not!" 
 said Fred. '' Now, if he has heard you, Bess, 
 he'll be affronted, and punish you, as he will 
 reward Midget." 
 
 '-'- 1 know who Santa Claus is," said Bessie, 
 gravely, '' and I wonder if it's yight to talk so 
 earnest about him." 
 
 " Mamma said it was not wrong," said Mag- 
 gie, " 'cause every one knew it was only a joke, 
 and no one meant to deceive ; but it's fun to 
 think about him and talk about him, so I am 
 going to do it." 
 
 " I wonder how this notion of Santa Claus 
 ever came about ? " said Harry. " Let us ask 
 papa." 
 
 But Mr. Bradford was too busy just then to 
 attend to them, and said he would tell them 
 at another time. 
 
C/irist?nas. 355 
 
 When Maggie and Bessie went up-stairs, 
 tlieir brothers went with them to assist in 
 hanging up the stockings, and when nurse 
 found what they were doing, she came too, 
 bringing Franky's stocking and a tiny wors- 
 ted sock. 
 
 " Holloa," said Fred, " you are not going 
 to hang up that apology for a stocking, 
 nursey ? Why, Santa Clans will never see it ! 
 and if he did, he'll have nothing small enough 
 in his pack to put in it." 
 
 " I'll trust to his forgetting my pet," said 
 the old woman. " If he overlooks any one, it 
 will be the one of the family that's always in 
 miscliief and up to some saucy prank ; and 
 maybe he'll just put a rod in tliat one's stock- 
 ing." 
 
 " Poor mammy ! " said Fred, " do you 
 really think Santa Claus will serve you such 
 a shabby trick as that, and not bring you a 
 
356 Bessie in the City, 
 
 single thing ? If he does, I'll save all my 
 pocket-money for a month, and buy you some- 
 thing nice." 
 
 Nursey shook her head at the roguish fel- 
 low, whom she dearly loved in spite of all his 
 mischief and teasing, and having fastened up 
 the little sock, she carried Maggie and Bessie 
 away to undress them. 
 
 If the little girls had been awake an hour 
 later, when their brothers stopped in mamma's 
 room on their way up to bed, they might have 
 said that Santa Glaus had a great deal of 
 laughing and whispering to do ; but they were 
 sound asleep, and heard nothing till the next 
 morning, when nurse, according to promise, 
 came to wake them at an earlier hour than 
 usual ; for nurse and Patrick had been taken 
 into the secret, and the latter had promised 
 not to ring the rising-bell for this morning, but 
 to let the children wake their parents in their 
 
Christmas. 357 
 
 own way. Harry had procured half a dozen 
 bells of different tones, and had taught his 
 brother and sisters to ring them in tune, pro- 
 ducing what they called " Christmas Chimes." 
 I cannot say that they sounded much like 
 chimes, or that the tune was very easily dis- 
 tinguished ; but since the children were satis- 
 fied with their own performance, it answered 
 all the purpose. And certainly had not papa 
 and mamma been already awake, they could 
 not have slept one moment after all this din 
 was raised at their door. Mr. Bradford, how- 
 ever, was up and nearly dressed, for Miss 
 Baby had chosen to wake at an early hour, 
 and looking around for something with which 
 to amuse herself, had discovered two new 
 playthings in her father's nose and hair. 
 These she chose to consider her own proper 
 Christmas .gifts, and liad ever since been mak- 
 ing good use of them. Papa tired of the fun 
 
3 $8 Bessie in the City, 
 
 sooner than she did, and had been forced to 
 take the new toys beyond the reach of the lit- 
 tle hands. Both he and mamma laughed 
 heartily at their Christmas greeting ; but soon 
 came sweeter sounds, for when the chimes 
 were over, the four clear young voices rose in 
 the beautiful hymn : — 
 
 " Hark, the herald angels sing 
 Glory to the new-born Iving.*' 
 
 No music ever sounded more delightful in 
 the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, and when 
 the hymn was finished, papa waited to be sure 
 that no more was to follow. But now came 
 shouts of " Merry Christmas ! " and as he 
 opened the door, the whole happy, laughing 
 flock rushed in, with Flossy barking joyously 
 at their heels. 
 
 " Now for the stockings ! " said Fred, when 
 all loving wishes had been exchanged. " One 
 at a time. You begin, Hal." 
 
Christmas, 359 
 
 There hung the stockings all in a row as 
 they had been left last night ; but now they 
 were full instead of empty, and to the toj) of 
 each was pinned a piece of paper with some 
 words written in a large, sprawling hand. 
 
 Now Harry, though he was by no means a 
 miserly boy, had a fancy for saving all sorts of 
 stray odds and ends, saying that they might 
 be of use some day. This habit of his gave a 
 great deal of amusement to Fred, and now he 
 seemed much delighted when on Harry's pa- 
 per were found the words, " For Master Save- 
 all." At the top of the stocking was a packet 
 of sugar-plums, below an old battered tin cup, 
 some broken pieces of china, part of a knife- 
 blade, and some scraps of paper. Harry 
 rolled the paper into a ball and tnrew it at 
 Fred's head. 
 
 " Now for number two," said the mischiev- 
 ous fellow, unpinning the paper from his 
 
360 Bessie m the City, 
 
 stocking, which did not look as full as Har- 
 ry's. " ' The pattern boy of tho house ' — 
 tliat's myself, of course, — ' needs nothing but 
 the reward of his own conscience, and the 
 goodies whose sweetness is only equalled by 
 his disposition.' Good for Santa Glaus ! He's 
 a gentleman of sense." 
 
 " There's someVhing else there," said Mag- 
 gie. 
 
 Fred looked rather surprised, but plunging 
 his hand down to the bottom of his stocking, 
 pulled out a small square box. Opening it, 
 he found two little parcels, one containing 
 mustard, the other pepper, with the labels, 
 " Like to like." He colored furiously, but 
 laughed good-naturedly, saying, " All fair ; 
 give and take." 
 
 On Maggie's paper was written, " For tho 
 girl who would not peep." And besides su- 
 gar-plums, the stocking held a tiny log-cabin. 
 
Christmas. 361 
 
 a puzzlo of Harry's which she had long wished 
 to have, and two or three other small toys. 
 Bessie's and Franky's held pretty much the 
 same, except that in Bessie's, instead of the 
 bg-cabin, was a tiny doll dressed as a police- 
 man ; for since her adventure she had been 
 very fond of talking of her friends, the police 
 men. and her stocking was ticketed, " For the 
 girl who will not believe that Santa Claus 
 really is." 
 
 But now nurse, coming in after her baby, 
 looked first at her little sock, and to her great 
 disgust, found nothing but a bundle of twigs 
 tied on the outside. 
 
 " The old rascal ! " she said ; " does he mean 
 to say my baby wants a whipping ? The best 
 babj that ever lived ! I'll just lay this rod 
 over his own shoulders." 
 
 " You'll have to catch him first," said Fred, 
 
362 Bessie m the City, 
 
 " and you wont ha^e a chance till next Christ- 
 mas-cvc." 
 
 " Wont I though ? " said nurse, and she 
 made a grasp at the laughing boy, who dived, 
 and the next instant was off with nurse after 
 him. But nurse was old and fat, Fred, young 
 and active, and he vaulted over balusters, and 
 took flying leaps down-stairs in a way which 
 quite terrified her ; so that she begged him 
 to " stop and not risk his neck on this blessed 
 Christmas morn." 
 
 " As well risk my neck as my shoulders," 
 said Fred. " Will you promise not to visit the 
 sins of Santa Claus on me if I consent not to 
 kill myself?" 
 
 Nurse promised, and went back for her baby, 
 whom she carried off to the nursery, covering 
 it with kisses, and talking to it as though she 
 thought it very badly treated. 
 
 " It's rather droll, is it not, that Santa Claus* 
 
Christmas, 363 
 
 handwriting should bo so much like that of 
 our Fred ? " said Mr. Bradford. 
 
 ''Not at all, sir, for ho took lessons of me 
 ■when he was young," answered the rogue, with 
 a comical look at his father. 
 
 " Papa," said Harry, at the breakfast-table, 
 " can you tell us now about Santa Claus ? " 
 
 " I will tell you all I know, but that is not 
 much," said his father. '' Santa Claus is 
 Dutch or German for St. Nicholas. Many 
 hundred years ago, there lived far away in the 
 East a good old bishop, named Nicholas, who 
 gave up his life to acts of charity and mercy. 
 He was said to have a great love for children, 
 and many stories are told of his kindness to 
 them ; hence, he came to be regarded as their 
 special friend. After his death, the Romish 
 Church, to which he belonged, made him a 
 saint ; and as his feast day, or the day which 
 particularly belonged to him, happened to be 
 
364 Bessre m the City, 
 
 near Christmas, lie was supposed to take a 
 great share in the rejoicings of that day." 
 
 "But why is ho said to come down the 
 chimney and fill stockings ? " asked Fred. 
 
 " I do not know," said Mr. Bradford, " and 
 though I have questioned several people who 
 know a great deal about old customs, I have 
 never been able to find out how this idea arose. 
 In some parts of Europe, he is supposed to be 
 a child angel, not an old man ; and in France 
 the children call him Noel, and put their shoes 
 on the hearth to be filled. Perhaps the cus- 
 tom of giving presents at this time arose 
 from the gifts which the wise men of the East 
 brought to the infant Saviour ; perhaps it was 
 only intended to remind us of the greatest and 
 most precious of all gifts which vje received on 
 this day. My Bessie can tell what that was ; 
 can she not ? " 
 " God's JesuSj who came to save us, so his 
 
Christmas. 365 
 
 Father could take us to heaven," said the little 
 girl. 
 
 " Right, my darling ; and can Maggie tell 
 what was the song the angels sang on this 
 happy morning ? " 
 
 '' Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
 peace, good will toward men," said Maggie. 
 
 " And every Christmas-day since the song 
 has been repeated by men and angels. Is it 
 not a pleasant thought that all over the world, 
 in every land where Christ is known, millions 
 of happy voices ring forth the glad tidings, 
 ' For unto us is born this day a Saviour, who 
 is Christ the Lord ; ' that millions of young 
 children are singing praises to him who be- 
 came a little child that he might bring to us 
 the one priceless gift without which all others 
 are worthless ? For from this flows every 
 good thing; without the peace, comfort, and 
 safety which this has brought, there would be 
 
266 Bessie in the City, 
 
 nothing but misery and unliappiness, oven for 
 those wlio do not love and bless the holy child 
 Jesus, or trust to his salvation. Every prayer 
 which we offer, not only on this day but on all 
 days of the year, finds its way to the Father's 
 ear only through his name ; every joy is made 
 brighter, every sorrow lighter, by the thought 
 of the one great blessing the birthday of our 
 Saviour brought." 
 
 And now there were down-stairs several 
 poor people to be attended to before church- 
 time ; for on this day, of all others, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Bradford would not forget those who had 
 not as many good gifts as themselves. There 
 was Mary Bent, who had risen long before 
 daylight that she might be in the city at an 
 early hour. Very cold and tired she looked, 
 but she clieerfully answered the children's 
 " Merry Christmas ; " and when she had eaten 
 the good breakfast Mrs. Bradford ordered for 
 
Christmas. 367 
 
 her, the color came into her pale cheeks, and 
 she quite agreed with Maggie and Eessie that 
 this was the happiest day in all the year. 
 
 " Mrs. Duncan ordered our Christmas din- 
 ner sent from Riverside, ma'am," she said, 
 courtesying to Mrs. Bradford ; " and old Mr. 
 Duncan sent a puzzle to Jemmy ; so there's 
 nothing more to be wished for." 
 
 " Still," said the lady, '^ I suppose you will 
 not refuse the present which the children have 
 for you." 
 
 No fear of that, as the sparkle of Mary's 
 eyes showed when Maggie and Bessie came 
 with the warm sack which they had bought 
 for her. It was tried on at once, and found to 
 fit pretty well, leaving, it is true, some room 
 for Mary to grow, but that was a fault on the 
 right side. Mrs. Bradford gave her a hood 
 for herself, and a book for Jemmy, with a par- 
 cel of cakes and candies, and some tea and 
 
368 - Bessie in the City, 
 
 sugar for her mother, and the little radish-girl 
 went home with a light, happy heart. 
 
 There was an old negro man nearly a hun- 
 dred years of age, but who still managed to 
 hobble about with a stick and pay a Christmas 
 visit to his kind friends, and who, when Mrs. 
 Bradford gave him money and a hat, said, 
 " Dear honey, I didn't spect nothin' ; I jest 
 came for a sight of your pooty face." But, 
 nevertheless, old Jack would have been sadly 
 disappointed to go away empty-handed ; in- 
 deed, I think it quite doubtful if he would 
 have gone away at all until he had received 
 something. 
 
 There were several others to be made 
 happy, but it would take too long to tell who 
 they all were. Every one, however, went 
 from Mr. Bradford's door blessing the kind 
 hearts who could not be content unless they 
 ahared with others the many good gifts God 
 
Christmas, 369 
 
 had bestowed upon them. Then to church 
 to praise the Lord for all the mercies of the 
 day; after which, Maggie and Bessie were 
 taken to a large room, where the children of 
 the Church Mission School were to have a 
 Christmas dinner. Roast beef and turkey, 
 with other good things, had been furnished for 
 the little ones, many of whom, perhaps, never 
 had a comfortable meal save on this day of 
 the year. 
 
 Mrs. Bradford brought her children away 
 before the dinner was quite over, for she 
 feared Bessie would be too tired, and when 
 they reached home, told her she must take a 
 little rest. Bessie thought it a pity to lose a 
 moment of Christmas-day in sleep ; but, like 
 the obedient child she was, lay down on mam- 
 ma's sofa. But after lying quite still for 
 about ten minutes with her eyes closed, she 
 said, " Mamma, I have kept my eyes tight 
 24 
 
370 Bessie in the City 
 
 shut for a great many hours, and the sleep 
 will not come." 
 
 Her mother laughed, and said she might 
 get np, since the time seemed so long, and 
 sent her to the nursery to be dressed for din- 
 ner. 
 
 And now came grandmamma and Aunt An- 
 nie, Grandpapa Duncan, Aunt Helen, and Un- 
 cle John with Baby Nellie, and afterwards, 
 Colonel and Mrs. Rush. What a long dinner- 
 table that was, and what a circle of bright, 
 happy faces about it ! Maggie and Bessie, and 
 perhaps Fred and Harry, too, had thouglit it 
 rather foolish to think of dinner when there 
 was the Christmas-tree waiting in the library; 
 but, somehow, they all contrived to enjoy the 
 merry meal very much. Fred declared liQ 
 wished his father kept a hotel, it was so joll; 
 to sit down to dinner with such a lot of pec 
 pie. 
 
Christmas, 37 1 
 
 Soon came Tom, Lily, and Eddy Norris, 
 with Gracie Howard, to share in the grand 
 event of the day. Papa and Uncle John dis- 
 appeared for a few moments, then the ser- 
 vants were called, the library-door thrown 
 open, and there stood the Christmas-tree in 
 all its splendor. On the topmost bough was a 
 figure of old Santa Glaus, with his pack upon 
 his back ; around him burned a row of wax 
 tapers, and on every little twig hung flags, 
 spangles, bright-colored balls, and bonbons ; 
 while the larger and stouter branches and 
 the green tub were covered with the heavier 
 gifts. Such shouts of delight as came from 
 the little ones ! Baby, in mamma's arms, 
 seemed to think the whole show was for her 
 amusement, and crowed and laughed and 
 stretched out her dimpled hands towards the 
 pretty things, which she would soon have de- 
 stroyed, had she been allowed to grasp them. 
 
372 Bessie in the City. 
 
 When the tree had been sufficiently admired, 
 Mr. Bradford stepped forward, and, taking 
 down one after another of the gifts, handed 
 them to the persons for whom they were in- 
 tended. One of the first things was a sweet 
 picture in a black walnut frame, which he 
 gave to mamma. Great was her delight when 
 she saw the faces of her two little daughters, 
 so prettily painted by her sister. 
 
 " Now may we see, Aunt Helen ? " said 
 Maggie, and receiving permission, she and 
 Bessie ran eagerly forward. " Oh, how sweet 
 Bessie and Flossy look ! And there's another 
 pretty little girl standing by — Why, that's 
 me ! " 
 
 Every one laughed, but Maggie was so 
 pleased she did not think about that, but 
 thanked Aunt Helen for putting her in the 
 picture. Bessie was even more surprised. 
 
Christmas. 373 
 
 and could not understand how her aunt could 
 paint a picture without her knowing it. 
 
 Now papa called Maggie, for there was a 
 beautiful little bed for her doll; and next 
 came one for Bessie. Never was there a tree 
 that bore such various and delightful fruit, — 
 fruit suited to large and small, from Grand- 
 papa Duncan down to the dear baby ; and 
 never were richer or happier children than 
 our Maggie and Bessie. There seemed to be 
 presents from every one to every one, and 
 happy voices and merry laughter filled the 
 room. The Colonel and Mrs. Rush were very 
 much pleased with the book-marks, " I love 
 you. Sir," and " Remember me. Ma'am ; " 
 that is, if smiles and kisses were to be taken as 
 signs, and promised to keep them as long as 
 they lived. 
 
 Nor weie papa and mamma less delighted 
 with the paper-weight and picture and the 
 
374 Bessie in the City, 
 
 markers worked with " To my dear father," 
 and " To my dear mother." Mamma did not 
 in the least care that Maggie, trying to do hers 
 by herself, had put the o and the m, quite 
 close together, making it read ''' Tomy dear 
 mother," a mistake which mischievous Aunt 
 Annie, enjoying the joke, had not corrected. 
 Of all the gifts which Mr. and Mrs. Bradford 
 received that evening, none pleased them 
 more than those which the fingers of their 
 own little daughters had manufactured. 
 
 As for nurse, she scarcely had eyes or 
 thoughts for her own presents, so occupied 
 was she with the treasures which showed that 
 the youngest darling of the flock had not been 
 forgotten. 
 
 " Well, mammy," said Fred, shaking in the 
 old woman's ears the silver and coral rattle 
 which had been grandmamma's gift to baby, 
 
Christmas, 375 
 
 "will you forgivG the trick which Santa CJaus 
 Bervcd you last night ? " 
 
 " I will," answered nurse, " and I wish he 
 may never turn out a worse fellow than the 
 rogue who played his part." 
 
 The excitement and gayety was calming 
 down a little, when Harry suddenly said, " See 
 there, papa. There must be a fire," and he 
 pointed towards the window. 
 
 Mr. Bradford hastily drew back the curtain, 
 and as a crimson glare was seen upon the 
 snow, it did indeed seem for a moment as if 
 Harry's words were true. 
 
 But directly Mr. Bradford said, " It is no 
 lire, but a splendid aurora ; let us go up-stairs, 
 where we may have a better view • " and tak- 
 hig Bessie in his arms, lie carried her to an 
 upper room, whitlier they were followed by all 
 the rest. It was indeed a magnificent sight 
 whicli met their eyes. Far down in the 
 
376 Bessie in the City, 
 
 northern sky appeared a dark purple arch ; 
 above it a second of the brightest gold, while 
 from the latter shot long rays or streamers of 
 every brilliant color, changing each instant, 
 and overhead glowed the steadier crimson 
 light, which, throwing its reflection on the 
 pure white snow, had caused Harry to think it 
 was a large fire. 
 
 For a moment Maggie and Bessie stood 
 speechless with delight, for they had never 
 seen anything like this before. Then Bessie 
 exclaimed, joyously, " Papa, papa, have the 
 angels opened the gates of heaven to let the 
 glory shine out 'cause it's Christmas night ? " 
 
 No one smiled at the pretty idea, though all 
 were pleased ; for sweet as was the thought, it 
 yet was solemn, and as they watched the flash- 
 ing play of those beautiful northern lights, it 
 did indeed seem almost as if there were reason, 
 in the little darling's words, and as if the hosts 
 
Christmas, 2>ll 
 
 of heaven in their rejoicing over man's salva- 
 tion might be giving them some glimpse of the 
 glory purchased for them on this blessed 
 night. 
 
 But Mr. Bradford whispered softly as he 
 drew her closer to him, *'No, my darling. 
 Our eyes may never behold the beauty of 
 heaven till our Father takes us to himself. 
 This is the work of his hand, and lovely it is ; 
 but it is as nothing to the glory of the great 
 white throne whereon he sits." 
 
 And so ended this happy Christmas which 
 our Maggie and Bessie will both remember as 
 long as they shall live. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 THE PURCHASE OF THE LIBRART 
 
 [N the Sunday morning following Christ- 
 mas, Mrs. Rush asked her little schol- 
 ars if they all had their money ready for the 
 library. Eacli one answered " Yes," and she 
 told them she would allow them to choose 
 what books they would send ; and that on the 
 next day she would take them all down town 
 to a large store, where they would find a great 
 number of pretty and suitable children's 
 books. Accordingly, on Monday morning, she 
 drove up to Mr. Bradford's door at the ap- 
 pointed hour. Maggie and Bessie, ready for 
 the ride, were watching for her, and did not 
 keep her a moment waiting. Then they 
 stopped at Mr Howard's door to take up Gra- 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 379 
 
 cio, and next at Mr. XoitIs' for Lily. Each 
 little girl, as she entered the carriage, would 
 offer Mrs. Rush her share of the money ; but 
 she told them they had better keep it until 
 they had bought the books, and then pay for 
 them with their own hands. 
 
 " Please don't say ' the books,' " said Mag- 
 gie. 
 
 " And why not ? " asked Mrs. Rush. " Are 
 you not going to buy books ? " 
 
 *' Yes'm," said Maggie ; " but then it is 
 a great deal more satisfaction to say * li- 
 brary.' " 
 
 " Oh ! that is it," said Mrs. Rush, laughing. 
 " Well, hereafter, I shall be careful to say 
 your * library.' " 
 
 '' Not ours ; the log-cabin children's li- 
 brary," said Gracie. 
 
 *' Very well," said Mrs. Rush. " You will 
 have me all right by and by. I see I must be 
 
380 Bessie in the City, 
 
 on my guard with such very particular young 
 ladies." 
 
 " Don't you like to be coryected, Mrs. 
 Yush ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 " Certainly ; when I am wrong, I always 
 wish to be put right ; and I shall speak of 
 your log-cabin library in any way you please ; 
 for you have surely earned the right to say 
 how it shall be." 
 
 " Tom says Maggie and Bessie deserve more 
 credit than Gracie and I," said Lily, ''because 
 they really earned the money, and Gracie and 
 I had it without taking any trouble about it." 
 
 " But you have denied yourselves in order 
 to give it," said Mrs. Rush, '' and I think you 
 ought not to be without your share of credit." 
 
 " What does ' credit ' mean ? " asked Bessie. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Maggie, before any one else 
 could speak, " it means to think yourself very 
 great, and to have a fuss made about you. 1 
 
The Ptirchase of the Library* 381 
 
 am sure wo did not do it for that ; did we, Bes- 
 sie ? " 
 
 " I know Tom did not mean that," said 
 Lily. "He thinks you're very nice." 
 
 *' And I think Maggie makes a mistake, and 
 does not quite understand the meaning of the 
 word ' credit,' " said Mrs. Rush. " To give a 
 person credit for any action, dear Maggie, is 
 only to give him the praise that is due to him. 
 There is no need to think that people are 
 making a fuss about you because they do 
 this." 
 
 " I can't help it, Mrs. Rush," said Maggie. 
 " I always do feel great when people praise 
 me, and nurse says it is not good for me." 
 
 " What do you mean by feeling great ? " 
 asked Mrs. Rush. ''Do you mean you feel 
 vain and self-glorious ? " 
 
 ■ " No," said Maggie, " not quite that, but I 
 feel pleased, and as if I liked it; and 1 know 
 
382 Bessie in the City* 
 
 sometimes I do things because I hope people 
 will praise me ; but I am quite sure I did not 
 do this for that, but because I felt sorry for 
 those log-cabin children, and wanted to help 
 them." 
 
 " I have not a doubt of it, my dear littlo 
 girl," said Mrs. Rush, " and I do not think 
 you could have been so earnest and persever- 
 ing if you had not had a better motive than 
 the desire for praise. I believe you have all 
 done it from a sincere wish to help others who 
 are not as well off as yourselves ; and it is not 
 wrong to like praise, Maggie, if we do not 
 allow it to make us vain, or to cause us to 
 cease from well-doing. We all enjoy it, old 
 and young ; and if it is sincere, and we feel 
 that we deserve it, it is quite right to bo 
 pleased with the approval of our friends." 
 
 " But Maggie is a great deal nicer than she 
 thinks herself," said Bessie. " I don't think 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 383 
 
 anybody knows how very nice she is, 'cept 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Rush smiled at the affectionate little 
 sister, who never missed a chance of saying 
 a kind or loving word for Maggie. 
 
 So they chatted away until they reached 
 the bookstore, where Mrs. Rush went in with 
 the whole of her small flock. This was a very 
 large store, and from tlie floor to the ceiling 
 the walls were covered with shelves, on which 
 lay piles on piles of books. The gentleman 
 whom Mrs. Rush wislied to see was engaged, 
 and she sat down to wait until he should be at 
 liberty to attend to her ; while the children 
 gathered about her, noticing all around them, 
 and prattling away as fast as their tongues 
 could go. 
 
 " Did you ever see such lots and lots ol 
 books?" said Gracie. 
 
 " I suppose the gentleman who owns this 
 
384 Bessie in the City, 
 
 store must be about a million years old," said 
 . Lily. 
 
 " Why, he couldn't be," said Maggie ; " only 
 the people that lived in the Bible were so very 
 old. I wish I had lived then, it's such fun to 
 be alive." 
 
 "If you had lived then, you would bot be 
 alive now," said Mrs. iiush, with a smile ; 
 " and no one ever lived to be a million years 
 old. The world has not been created so long, 
 and the oldest man, Methuselah, was only nine 
 hundred and sixty-nine when he died. But 
 
 what made you think Mr. must have 
 
 lived a million years, Lily ? " 
 
 " Because he has written such lots of hooks," 
 said Lily ; '^just see how many ! " 
 
 " But you do not think Mr. has him- 
 self written all these books ? " 
 
 '' Why, yes'm," said Lily. 
 
 " It would indeed take a long life-time to 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 385 
 
 ^I'lte so many," said Mrs. Rush, " but I do 
 
 not believe Mr. has written more than 
 
 half a dozen." 
 
 " Who did it, then ? " asked Lily. 
 
 '^ A great many different persons. People 
 
 write books and bring them to Mr. , and 
 
 he publishes them ; that is, he has them print- 
 ed and bound, and then sells them." 
 
 " I am glad it took a great many people to 
 do it," said Maggie, *' because if they take the 
 trouble to write books for children, I suppose 
 it's because they like us ; and it is pleasant t« 
 have a great many people to love you." 
 
 " I wonder why 'most everybody loves chil- 
 dren," said Gracie. 
 
 " If you thought about Christmas, you'd 
 
 know that," said Bessie. " It's 'cause Jesus 
 
 was once a little child ; and besides, when he 
 
 was a man, he loved children his own self." 
 
 Just then the gentleman for whom Mrs. 
 25 
 
380 Bessie in the City, 
 
 Rush was waiting came forward, and said he 
 was now at leisure to attend to her. She told 
 him for what she had come, and that she 
 wished these little giils, who were going to pay 
 for the library, to choose their favorite books. 
 
 He shook hands with them all, and then, 
 taking paper and pencil, told them to tell him 
 in turn what they would have. 
 
 Bessie, being the youngest, had the first 
 choice, and she named the books slie liked 
 best. The others did the same, but when the 
 
 list was made out, Mr. said ten dollars 
 
 would purchase several more, and bringing 
 some volumes which had just been published, 
 said he could recommend those for their pur- 
 pose. The children were quite ready to take 
 them upon his word, and when the whole tea 
 dollars' worth was laid out, looked at the pile 
 
 w.th great satisfaction. Mr. offered to 
 
 send the books wherever they might choose 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 387 
 
 but that would not answer at all. The library 
 must be taken with them in the carriage, and 
 carried home by Mrs. Rush, with whom it was 
 to remain until those of the children's friends 
 who wished to see it had had the opportunity, 
 when it was to be sent to Miss Winslow, witli 
 a note from the four little girls to the Western 
 children. Maggie was asked by the others to 
 " make up " the note, and as Mrs. Rush took 
 them all home to spend the rest of the day 
 with her and the colonel, it was done before 
 they separated that evening. This was the 
 note which Colonel Rush wrote out and put 
 up with the books : — 
 
 '' Dear log-cabin children, whose names we 
 don't know, but we like you all the same, 
 please to take this library. Four of us send 
 it to you, — Maggie and Bessie and Gracie 
 and Lily ; and I am Maggie, and the others- 
 
388 Bessie ill the City. 
 
 are the rest. Our dear teacher, Miss Wins* 
 low, who used to have us all except Bessie, 
 who was too little, in her Sunday-school class, 
 is going to teach you in your log-cabin, and 
 Santa Glaus put a log-cabin in my stock- 
 ing, but I knew it was Fred; and she says 
 you have very few books, and we would like 
 you to have some more ; so we have bought 
 this library for you, and we hope you will 
 read all the books and like them. Papa and 
 Colonel Rush are going to send you some pic- 
 ture cards with hymns and verses like those 
 in our Sunday-school, and Miss Winslow is 
 going to take you some Bibles, so you see if 
 you want to learn about Jesus you can, and 
 if you are good children, you will. Miss 
 Winslow is very good, and you will love her 
 very much, and we are very sorry she is 
 going away ; but now we have Sunday-school 
 in Mrs. Rush's room, and she is so sweet you 
 
rhe Purchase of the Library, 389 
 
 can't think, and the colonel does tell us such 
 stories ; so wc can spare Miss Winslow, and 
 you must be very good to Miss Win slow, be- 
 cause she left her comfortable home to be a 
 missionary to you, and Mr. Long, too, so you 
 ought to mind all they say, and if you do not, 
 you ought to be served right, and never have 
 any of the library books to read. But wo 
 think you will be good, and some day Miss 
 Winslow is going to write to us about you, 
 and if you are nauglity, you would be ashamed 
 to have it put in a letter. Dear log-cabin 
 children, we all send you our love, and we 
 hope you had a Christmas-tree, and here are 
 
 our names : — 
 
 Maggie Bradford. 
 
 Gracie Howard. 
 
 Lily Norris. 
 
 Bessie Bradford.*' 
 
 The colonel wrote it all down just as Mag 
 
390 Bessie in the City. 
 
 gie dictated it to him, but when Miss Winslow 
 read the letter to the Western children, she did 
 not think it necessary to read the whole of 
 the last part, but left out a few words here 
 and there. As Maggie did not know this, it 
 did not make any difference to her. 
 
 The books were covered and put up in a 
 neat box which Mr. Bradford provided, and 
 then given into Miss Winslow's care. She 
 was very much pleased, and told the little 
 girls she should not fail to tell the Western 
 children all about their kind young friends in 
 the East. 
 
 Some weeks after she went away, there 
 came a letter from her, directed, " To my 
 dear little scholars." It had come in another 
 to Mrs. Rush, and arrived on Saturday night ; 
 so when they came to her room on Sunday 
 morning, they found this pleasure awaiting 
 them. Mrs. Rush read it aloud to them. 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 391 
 " My Dear Little Girls, — 
 
 " After a long and tedious journey, we ar- 
 rived at this place. We lost several articles 
 of our baggage by the way, but I am glad to 
 tell you tliat your precious library was not 
 among them. That came quite safely, and it 
 would do good to your generous young hearts 
 to see what delight these poor children take in 
 the books ; and not only the children, but the 
 grown people, also, are very anxious to have 
 them. 
 
 " We are not living in a large city or village, 
 but in a small settlement of a dozen or so of 
 houses, and very different the houses are from 
 those you are accustomed to. They are all 
 log-cabins, our own as well as the rest ; but 
 we manage to make ourselves pretty comforta- 
 ble and quite contented. Then we have so 
 much to do that there is no time to think of 
 little annoyances. 
 
392 Bessie in the City. 
 
 '' On Sunday the people come from other 
 settlements, miles and miles away, to hear Mr. 
 Long preach ; and when our simple services 
 are over, the children heg for the books you 
 have sent for their use. Some of them are 
 well thumbed already, but, on the whole, they 
 take good care of them, partly for their own 
 sakes, partly for that of their kind little friends 
 so far away. 
 
 " On week-days, Mr. Long rides from place 
 to place to teach and talk to the people. 
 When I can borrow a pony or mule, I go with 
 him, and the cry is always for '- books, 
 books.' I take two or three from the library 
 with me, and leave them here and there. 
 They pass from house to liouse, till all who 
 wish have read them, then they arc returned 
 to me, and others asked for. 
 
 *' There is an old colored woman who lives 
 in one of the houses near us ; she has not left 
 
The Purchase of the Library, 393 
 
 — -ss^sa-- — 
 
 her bed for years ; she is lame and helpless. 
 I went to see her when I first came here, but 
 she took little notice of me until I offered to 
 read to her. Then slie turned her face to me, 
 and asked if I had books. I told her yes, and 
 seeing she was ready to listen, I opened my 
 Bible and read several chapters to lier. To 
 my surprise, she seemed to be quite familiar 
 with God's word, and asked for certain chap- 
 ters, not by name or number, but by repeat- 
 ing some verse they contained, or by telling 
 me the subject. Since then I liave been to 
 see her every day ; and thinking she might 
 like to hear some of the pretty stories in your 
 library, I took one with me the other morning. 
 She seemed well pleased with the idea, and 
 before I began, I told her how I had procured 
 the books. She was much interested, and at 
 last asked the names of the children who had 
 been so thoughtful. When I mentioned Mag- 
 
394 Bessie in the City, 
 
 gie and Bessie Bradford, lier whole face 
 lighted up, and she asked me whose children 
 they were. I told her, and she at once said 
 she had known Maggie's and Bessie's papa 
 wlien she was at home, ' to dear ole New 
 York ; ' and told me tliat her brother Jack, 
 if he were still alive, often went to see Mr. 
 Bradford's family, who were very kind to 
 liim. So when Maggie and Bessie see old 
 Jack, they can tell him this news of his sister. 
 Poor old Dinah never tires of asking about 
 you, or. of talking of the family, and when I 
 go away, always begs me to leave one of the 
 library-books with her. She cannot read a 
 word, but she says she likes to look at the pic- 
 turs, and to hold the book in her hands, be- 
 cause it does her good just to feel it and think 
 it came from ' dear Massa Henry's chillen.' 
 
 " So, my little darlings all, you see what 
 joy your present has brought to these poor 
 
The Purcnase of the Library, 395 
 
 people. That God may bless you for your 
 readiness to help in his work, and reward you 
 abundantly is the prayer of 
 
 " Your loving 
 
 " Mary Long." 
 
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 MANIFESTO OF THE KING. An Exposition of the 
 Sermon on the Mount, By Rev. J. Oswald Dykes, D.D. . . 2.00 
 
 SERMONS. By J. Oswald Dykes, D. D. i2mo 1.50 
 
 COVENANT NAMES AND PRIVILEGES. A series 
 of Discourses. By the Rev. Richard Newton, D. D. Portrait. 1. 50 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 The Jewel Case. 6 vols 7.5* 
 
 The Wonder Case. 6 vols 7-So 
 
 Rays from the Sun of Righteousness 1.25 
 
 The King in His Beauty 1.23 
 
 Pebbles from the Brook ^ 1.25 
 
 4 
 

 
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