V" ■ ■ K I hIB ■ 1 C6e Ltorarp Of t$e {ftnftergttp of JBottt) Carolina TIL&is boofe teas presented Mrs. P. H. Calvert H **» ■ ■ ■ m ■ UNIVERSITY OF N.C AT CHAPEL HILL mamoB M ■ H HI May ■ £¥.£>:»* infl "■"•■ Smfl on HI 1 Hi W MB 00022226066 This BOOK may be kept out TWO WEEKS ONLY, and is subject to a fine of FIVE CENTS a day thereafter. It was taken out on the day indicated below: <*// '^?"- - ^?^r - /^^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://archive.org/details/holidaysathomefoOOvand "MOPSY WATCHED THE SPARROWS HOLDING HIGH FESTIVAL OVER HIS BREAKFAST." Frontispiece. See Page 144. Holidays at Home: BOYS AND GIRLS. By MARGARET VANDEGRIFT, Author of " Clover Beach " and " Under the Dog-Star." J a PORTER & CO ATE S, PHILADELPHIA. Copyright by Porter & Coates, 1882. CONTENTS. \ u :-?f •-) A \[4 W - v ;-7 : -■ JuJs£3; /•• J -°" ! -*;l PAGE THE THREE PHILOSOPHERS 9 THE COURAGEOUS HARE 14 MINCE AND STEW 17 WHAT PEPPER SAID 28 THE OLD PILOT 32 THE ILL-BRED DUCKS 35 A TRUE KNIGHT 40 "IN A MINUTE" 55 THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE . . 65 HOME WITH THE TIDE Si COURAGE S4 A HAPPY BIRTHDAY gS THE KING'S THREE SONS 115 TWO GOOD FRIENDS 124 TWO WAYS 144 THE MAY-QUEEN 159 MRS. CLUCK'S CHILDREN 163 5 501164 CONTENTS. PAGE DARING 174 THE END OF THE RAINBOW 197 A COUNTRY MONTH 202 OLD NURSE 228 FATHER CHRISTMAS 233 THE BABES IN THE WOOD • • 241 A MAYFLOWER 251 AN OLD-FASHIONED FATHER 256 A HOT SUPPER 261 ONE STEP AT A TIME 266 THE THREE B'S 272 MAKING A TABLEAU 2S0 A YOUNG EGYPTIAN 288 UNCLE MOSES 291 A GENEROUS DOG 296 §^>-^ ILLUSTRATIONS. " MOPSY WATCHED THE SPARROWS HOLDING HIGH pack FESTIVAL OVER HIS BREAKFAST" Frontispiece. " Mince was playing happily with a large ball" . 19 "He gave it a vigorous stroke with his paw". . 23 " He was putting the last touches to a little vessel" 25 •'Well row the bonny maidens" 33 " She turned her back on him and sat down in the grass" 37 "A beautiful rainbow spanned the pond" .... 47 " Grandma sent Bijou with a bunch of grapes " . 49 " Two refractory horses objected to being shod " . 52 The donkeys of Ruth's dream 59 "She seated one of the dolls on her lap" ... 61 " Rena once moke counted the money in her hand" 67 " Happy little children woke to search their stockings" 75 " She sat on a rock and waited " 82 " Lion was already pulling Baby May from the water 93 "Rover and Douglas and the cat and the kitten watched her " 105 •• Each of my subjects must sing at least once a r>AY" 117 , Deer in the forest 121 '• the baby waked and played with his fingers " . 1 3 i "Clementine was asleep" ... 139 " al.m i t under his feet was a snipe" .... i4i " Polly liked ironing, . . . and she did it with all her might" i47 " Puck, the cat, was walking round Prince's wa- tering-trough " ' 153 " The baby, seated on a stool, and Mopsy, in a chair, each sang" i57 "Sceptre and train to grace your queen" . . . 160 "Seek for your queen where hidden lie" ... 161 "The professor of crowing gave them an hour's lessor" 167 " Little wateri-alls came bursting out between the staves" 171 7 ILLUSTRATIONS. " She fed Don from her hand for the last TIME " 175 "We've been talking over the wall" 179 "They found her standing in the cove beside the OLD PIER " 183 " A little basket, filled with a cat-bird's nest, * swung from a bough " 187 " a boy by the wayside bravely seized the bridle and held him "..... 193 "She was lying there, the darling!" 200 " That lovely bath in the water-butt was too cold FOR HER " 203 "Cecil fed the cows out of his hand" ... . 209 " Joe was whittling out a willow whistle for Cecil" 221 " Two fawns, then the doe, and then the stag" . 224 " A frog had fallen into the clutches of a white goose" 227 "Sometimes she tells of the 'good folks'" . . . 231 "Grandpa stood there . . . with Polly's wreath on his head" 235 "Fred can cut out animals very nicely'" .... 239 " as the sparrow went peeping about he met a horned beetle" 243 " There the sparrow found them next morning, ASLEEP " 247 " Nothing moke she knew until, to a burst of music" 253 Mr. Bullfrog teaching his youngsters to swim . . 257 " Five young sparrows saw it, and each made a dart for it " 263 " She turned aside to a furze-bank, and wearily sat down " 267 " He pipes for my dolly's dancing " 270 Jet and Pearl and the calf 275 " Aunt Alice stood me on a chair before a little GIRL " . 28l •' They stopped me in the middle of a game of Blindman's Buff" 285 " What a very' solemn-looking little boy !" . . . 289 " When he is not smoking ... he tells made-up stories" 293 " Reginald gave Dot a gentle throw into a wave " . 301 Holidays at Home. THE THREE PHILOSOPHERS. up his out of THE cow had lived *■ there always ; at least she supposed she had, for she could not remember any other home, and she had a sort of misty recollec- tion of trotting about that very barnyard with ler mother when her egs were not good I for much. So she felt it her duty to be polite to the cock and the tur- I key, who were compar- atively new-comers. The cock came first. He came in a basket, d a very uncomfortable time he had of it; EJUS the basket was too small for him ; it doubled' neck and made his back ache. But it didn't take the crow him. He rave a o-ood loud Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo ' 9 IO HOLIDAYS AT HOME. two or three times as the farm-wagon jolted over the frozen road ; he wished to let the farmer know that he was merely suppressed, not conquered ; and he had his reward. The farmer set the basket down on the out-kitchen floor and called his wife. " Come here, Sally," he said, " and see what a fine fellow I've brought you : he's crowed me all the way home. I'll warrant hell not steal the corn and worms from the hens." The farmer had unfastened the basket while he was talking, and the cock stepped proudly out with the loudest crow he had given yet. He was introduced to the chicken-yard at once, and was very careful to act up to the good character which had been given him. Not many days after the turkey-gobbler came, and it was in comparing notes about their journey that he and the cock became such great, friends. The turkey had come on horseback, with his lees tied together; he had ridden in front of the farmer, and he had not liked it. The cow was very kind to both of them. She was older than they were, and she gave them a great deal of good advice, but they did not mind it much. "You see, we can always take it pleasantly," said the cock to the turkey confidentially ; " that will please her, you know, and we are not bound to follow it. She's a good old thing, but she's never been either a turkey or a cock — at least I don't believe she has; she has no recollection of it." What the cow chiefly advised them about was being philosophical. " Don't fret, don't worry, don't excite yourselves," she would say. THE THREE PHILOSOPHERS. II " ' Fair and easy goes far in a day.' It's best to take life calmly and coolly." " That's pretty good doctrine for a cow, perhaps," the cock would say to the turkey, "but I don't think the hens would think much of it, especially when grub -time comes." The farmer drove into the yard one day with a fine load II of cabbages from a WBk distant field ; his lit- tle boy sat on the high seat in front of the wagon, hold- ing the reins. "Oh, father," he cried, "mayn't I , . . ., "JUST THEN THE COCK AND THE TURKEY SAUNTERED UP." throw this small cabbage to Crumple ? She looks as if she wanted one so." "Throw away, then," said the farmer, good-naturedly; and the little boy threw, but not hard enough ; the cabbage fell on the wrong 12 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. side of the trough, where Crumple could not possibly reach it. Just then the dinner-horn was blown, and the boy, never stopping to look which way the cabbage went, jumped down and ran into the house. Crumple was very much annoyed at first, but just then the cock and the turkey sauntered up, and it occurred to her that here was a fine chance to show them how philosophical she was. So she told them, in a pleasant conversational manner, what had happened, but expressed no wish for the cabbage nor anger at the boy. The cock and the turkey, however, were quite indignant at the boy, and said that if he couldn't throw straighter than that he'd better not have thrown at all. " Don't get so excited," said the cow mildly ; " you see how calmly I am taking it." " It strikes me that you're taking it more calmly than there's any sense in," said the cock, a little irritably. — " See here, friend Turkey, if you'll take a good grip of one of those thick stems with your bill, I'll take another, and then, if we both lift together, and Mrs. Crumple will just stretch as far over the trough as she can, she shall have her cabbage, after all." To this Mrs. Crumple, after many apologies for the trouble she was giving, consented ; and when the boy came out from dinner she was munching the cabbage with much satisfaction. " I'd like to know how in the world that cow managed to reach that cabbage," said the farmer ; " I saw it fall outside the trough." THE THREE PHILOSOPHERS. 13 " Well, ma'am," said the cock as Crumple took the last mouthful, "don't you like our philosophy rather better than your own?" " Perhaps it is better," said the cow reluctantly — she did not like to yield a principle — " but I'm quite willing to admit that four heads are better than two, if one is a cabbage-head." THE COURAGEOUS HARE. | T^HE hare lay down on the bank of a *■ stream, weak and weary with running. She had succeeded in escaping the hounds, but she felt that a few more runs such as that which she had made this mornine would cost her her life. " I might as well let the hounds kill me and be done with it," she murmured sadly to herself, " if I am to die of fright or of heart disease." Just then a frog hopped upon the bank, close by her head. " Oh, how you made me jump!" she exclaimed. " Couldn't you possibly learn to walk, instead of hopping in that startling manner?" " I'm very sorry," said the frog humbly. " I didn't mean to startle you, I'm sure, but it's the only way I can go; it's the way my legs are made, you know. But what has happened ? You look dreadfully used up." "Those dreadful hounds have been after me afjain," groaned the hare. " And I've three quarters of a mind just to drown myself and put an end to it. They'll catch me some day, and I'd rather be drowned than eaten — wouldn't you ?" u THE COURAGEOUS HARE. 15 "Well, of course /would," said the frog, "because when they thought I was drowned I wouldn't be ; but it you'll excuse me lor seeming to dictate to a warm-blooded animal, and one so much larger than myself, I'll tell you what I've been resolving this morn- ing. The boys in this neighborhood are as eager lor my blood as the hounds are for yours — I heard some of them once saying my hind legs tasted just like pork, the cannibals ! — and though I've always succeeded in getting off so far, they may surround me and catch me any day ; so I've made up my mind what to do. I heard one of the little wretches tell how he got away from an angry bull that was chasing him. ' I looked him right square in the eye,' he said, ' and backed slowly off to the fence ; and he actually stood still and didn't follow me.' Now, I'm going to try that the very next time they chase me. I shall just look steadily at them and back off, and they'll not dare to follow me. If you'd like to try it, we might practise on each other, you know, so as to learn to look a good while without winking — it might spoil it to wink, I suppose — and then the next time we are chased let's just stand up firmly and unflinchingly, and back off at our leisure." " You really are very intelligent for so small an animal," said the hare, admiringly. "We'll begin at once; it will quiet my nerves, and there's no telling how soon we may need to try it." So for fully five minutes the hare and frog silently and steadily looked each other in the eyes without flinching. A large spider had been concealed under a blackberry-leaf i6 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. directly over the hare's head, and now he chuckled to himself: " I'll give them a chance to try their courage on something small, just to get their hands in, as it were." So he softly let himself down by some of the string which he always carried in his pocket, and tickled the hare's nose. She was so busy looking the frog in the eyes that she felt him before she saw him, and, lifting her eyes suddenly, she mistook his dark body for a dog on the other side of the stream. With a terrified squeal, and forgetting her fatigue at once, she bounded into the bushes, and never stopped until she was of the family, recklessly climbing the rigging one dark night, was pitched into the sea by a sudden lurch of the ves- sel, .and went down before a line could be cast out to save him. His wife, who had been called indifferently " Mrs. Hash " and " The Missus," was now generally called simply Hash. She brooded over her loss a good deal ; for, although Mr. Ahashuerus had not been a model husband, having been somewhat uncertain as to his temper, she thought, now that he was gone, that he had been a good deal better than nobody ; she missed the companionship of some one of her own age, and she foresaw trouble in bringing up Stew : he was wilful and impertinent, and had a particular fancy for doing whatever he was told not 'do and going wherever he knew he had better not go. Mince, on the contrary, was gentle and obedient. She was a great favorite with the captain, while Stew, who knew well enough " on which side of hi-s butter to look for his bread," had, by sundry blandishments and exceptional good behavior when he was in the galley, made the cook his firm friend. "Hes a cat "MINCE WAS PLAYING HAPPILY WITH A LARGE BALL." See Page 21. MINCE AND STEW. 21 with some spirit to him," the cook would say; "and he's a good, sensible dark color, that don't show every little smudge." Hash always felt uneasy when the vessel was in port : boys and dogs had once or twice come on board, and she was afraid, too, that the kittens might stray along the gangplank and be lost on that great unknown world, the shore. So one day, when the vessel was moored for a tew hours to a particularly noisy wharf, upon which she had seen several dog's running- about, she called the kittens into the captain's state-room, and told them it would be safer for all three to stay quietly there until the vessel should sail again, which, she had heard the captain say, would be late that afternoon, at the turn of the tide. The captain had very kindly made a bed for Hash and her family in the snug enclosed place tinder his berth, and Stew crawled sulkily into this bed, saying that if they were to stay all day in that stupid place, he might as well go to sleep. Mince was playing happily with a large ball which one ot the sailors had brought the kittens that morning, and which bounced delightfully. Stew was watching her, and wishing he had not said he would go to sleep, and Hash, with her eyes cast thoughtfully on the floor, was musing on the different dispositions of her children, and wishing Stew were more like Mince, when the captain's voice was suddenly heard, calling, " Hash ! Hash !" loudly and excitedly. Hash never disobeyed her captain, so she sprang up, stopping only to say to the children, "Stay here until I come back." 2 2 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Then she ran to the place from which the captain's voice seemed to come. He was in the hold. " There's a whopping big rat behind this box, old lady," he said as soon as Hash appeared. " Steady now ! be ready for it as I move the box." Hash was ready, and succeeded in grasping the rat by the neck, but he turned and gave her such a ferocious bite that with a howl of pain she dropped him, and he scuttled behind a larger box. Then began an exciting chase : the captain was obliged to call the midshipmite to help corner the rat, which was finally caught and killed, but not before the action had lasted nearly half an hour. Meanwhile, Mince had grown tired of playing ball by herself, and had vainly begged Stew to join her. "You see," she said, "if you'd sit over there while I sit here, we could roll it back and forth beautifully ; it's a very roily sort of ball." "That's stupid," answered Stew fretfully, "and besides, I'm hungry — hungrier than I've been for weeks — and I'm sure mamma has forgotten us ; she couldn't have meant us to to without our dinners. And it's perfectly safe in the galley — just as safe as it is here, and safer — for cook would take care of us if anything were to come on board; and I should just like to know what we would do, all by ourselves, if anything were to come in here. Come on ; I must have something to eat right away, this minute." Mince was a timid little thing — Stew frequently called her a " 'fraid cat " — and after Stew's unpleasant suggestions she did not MINCE AND STEW. 23 dare to be left alone ; so, very unwillingly, and with the feeling that she was doing wrong, she followed Stew into the galley, which, you know, is the ship's kitchen. Nobody was there, but a large basket, with a cover laid loosely upon it, stood near the table ; it was full of something moving, and all around the edge stuck out queer-looking claws. Mince immediately jumped on the table to be out of harm's way, and to exam- ine this strange basketful at her leisure; but Stew's curiosity was more active. " I think they're some new kind of mice," he said excitedly. " And how proud mamma would be if 1 were to catch one ! I mean to see if I can." " You'd better let them alone " said Mince fear- " HE GAVE 1T A vigorous stroke with his paw.- fully ; " they look dreadfully wicked, to me." " Baby !" said Stew disdainfully ; and, giving a spring and a grab all at once, he succeeded in pulling out on the floor one of the curi- ous creatures, which, as you have probably guessed, were lobsters. 24 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. He stood staring at it for a moment, rather frightened at the result of his daring, but instead of trying to get away, it lay quite still, excepting a feeble motion of its claws. " Stupid thing ! why don't it run ?" said Stew impatiently. "I'll see if I can't make it." And he gave it a vigorous poke with his paw. Alas, poor Stew ! The lobster fastened on his soft little paw with an iron grip, and all his frantic shaking and shrieking failed to make it let go. "He'll kill me!" he screamed. — "Oh, Mince, you coward, why don't you come pull him off?" " I'm afraid," sobbed Mince ; " he would grab me ; and, besides, you shouldn't have meddled with him, Stew." Just then the lobster gave an extra hard nip, and Stew dashed out of the door, and, not knowing where he went, up the gang- plank to the wharf, and almost into the arms of — oh, dreadful ! — a boy ! He was very busy putting the last touches to a little ship which he had been rigging, and he never looked up, or saw Stew at all, until the lobster struck his bare foot; then he jumped up, nearly as frightened as Stew was. But he soon saw what was the matter, and at first he only laughed, but when he found the poor little kitten was really suffering, and frightened nearly to death besides, he gently held him fast with one hand while with the blade of his large knife he pried open the lobster's claw and set him free. " I do believe," he said, as he stroked his soft fur and tried to HK WAS PUTTING THE LAST TOUCHES TO A LITTLE VESSEL.' See Page 24. MINCE AND STEW. 2"J comfort and quiet him, "that you are one of the two kittens that I saw on the deck of that ship this morning. Come, then, I will take you home, poor little thing!" and he carried Stew down the gang- plank, holding the lobster carefully in his other hand. The captain and Hash were just coming up out of the hold with the rat, which had at last been caught, and the captain laughed heartily when he heard of Stew's adventure. "Served him just right," he said; "he's the most meddlesome kitten I ever saw. — And you brought back the lobster, eh, my fine little fellow ? Keep it, keep it, and here are a couple more to go with it ; take them home for your supper." Stew was so ashamed that he limped away to bed, and never came out again until the vessel had left port. His mother would have spanked him for his disobedience, but the lame paw hurt him so badly that Hash said it was punishment enough. And indeed it seemed to be, for he gradually broke himself of his dreadful habit of touching everything he came near from that time, and his mother no longer was obliged to tell him a dozen times a day, "Your eyes are not in the ends of your paws, Stew." WHAT PEPPER SAID. mMMMM F)EPPER was the dog-, "and a ^ood dog too." You had only to look into his eyes to see what a good watch-dog he was ; he seemed to look forty ways at once. And no dog ever had so many different barks. There was the roar with which he scared away tramps and chicken-thieves ; the pleasant sort of chuckle which he gave when he was told he might fol- low the wagon ; the shout of delight with which he welcomed the children home from school or from a visit ; and his talking bark, in which the children declared they could distinguish words. Fritz and little Irma had just begun to go to school, and Pepper did not like it at all. He missed them dreadfully, and every morn- ing he walked with them to the end of the lane, telling them, as they declared, how sorry he was to have them go and how he could not play without them. But they liked school pretty well, and always told Pepper all about what had happened when they came home. He met them always at the end of the lane as soon as he 28 WHAT PEPPER SAID. 2 9 "IRMA AND PEPPER SAT ON THE UPPER STEP." found out when to look for them, and they used to keep some scraps for him in their dinner-basket. But one day the procession came up the lane very silently and solemnly, and Fritz carried his slate as well as his books and the dinner-basket; and when the 30 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. mother asked what was the matter, Fritz hung his head and answered, " I drew pictures instead of doing my examples, and the master made me bring them home to do ; and he told me to ask you not to let me play until they were done. There are three, and they are hard." " Sit down at once, then, and go to work," said the mother briskly ; " they will not grow easier by keeping." So Fritz took his slate and sat down on the lower doorstep, while little Irma and Pepper sat on the upper one to encourage him. " We will not play," said Irma, " until you can come and play too." Pepper had brought the last plaything they had made him — a bunch of long cock's feathers fastened tightly into a large cork — and laid it at Fritz's feet ; but when he found there was work on hand, he paid no attention to it, but sat stiffly up on the step — " trying to look like the master," Irma said. Fritz did not feel like doing sums. He leaned his head on his slate with a great yawn. " If I might play a while first, I should not mind so much," he said fretfully, " but this is like having school all day." Now, if Pepper did not understand all about it, I should like to know why he broke out that moment with his talking bark. This was what Fritz thought he said : " Go to work and do it ! go to work and do it ! Folks take the time to complain that would do the work. Go to work and do-oo-oo-oo it !" WHAT PEPPER SAID. 31 " So I will, then," cried Fritz resolutely. And in just half an hour, by the eight-day clock, the examples were done and the children and Pepper were free to play. " Oh, my dear Pepper, what a wise dog you are !" said Irma, giving Pepper a hug and a little kiss where his front hair was parted. And Pepper said, "Thank you." At least, Irma said he did. THE OLD PILOT. N the frowning- height of Wolfsberg a goodly castle towers fcCjlI Far, far above the grassy plain, gay with its summer flowers : Long had the Kolbergs held it, but now the time had come When a stranger knight was threaten- ing the dear ancestral home. The land-side was beleaguered. "Our hope, if hope there be," Said the last Kolberg, " resteth in those beyond the sea. Ten thousand times 'twere easier a hero's death to die Than here, like wild beasts caught in snares, helpless and sad to lie." Old Nettleback the pilot, the oldest man within The fortress, said, " My master, thy faithlessness is sin ; For see across the water, as thou speakest thus in grief, The good ship onward speeding that bringeth us relief." 32 THE OLD PILOT. 33 At. C ",-M-r "WELL ROW THE liONNY MAIDEN'S." Then rose a mighty tempest, loudly the whirlwind roared, The lurid lightning flashing, while hail and rain down poured. The brave ship struggles onward, the roadway gains at last, And, as the guns salute her, she lies at anchor fast. She signals for a pilot, for rocks the channel bound ; Old Nettleback springs forward, but where can men be found? 34 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Not one of that small garrison, who has its perils shared, Can even for an hour from the defence be spared. Then cries the pilot cheerily, " Nay, here are maidens stout, And each one good at rowing. — Come, what are you about ? Dorothy, Frida, Lena, Irmengarde, and Frinette, Come, take your oars and follow ; we'll save the fortress yet !" Well row the bonny maidens ; each arm with hope gains strength ; The pilot's line has fallen across the deck at length. He gains the ship, and over the ocean's deafening swell His voice clangs like a trumpet, with the ringing buoy-bell. " Victory !" yells the garrison ; " the ship has gained the shore !" Their shout of triumph rises above the tempest's roar. " Now God be praised for courage so strong and sure to win ! We'll gain the day — to doubt it were surely now a sin." From the German of Feder von Koppen. H5 THE ILL-BRED DUCKS. FAMILY of kingfishers had lived for many years in a wood near a lonely lake. The fishing was good, travellers or sportsmen seldom came that way, and so every spring the old nests were repaired and new ones built in neighboring trees, until the colony was a very large one. But one day came a great excitement. A young king- fisher, who liked to see what was going on, flew home to dinner nearly breathless, and reported that men were building a house near one end of their lake. " I'm afraid we'll have to move," said the great-grandfather sadly. " If there are men, there are probably boys and guns ; we shall be safe no longer." " But perhaps," said the young kingfisher who had brought the news, hopefully, " they will only shoot our enemies, the hawks, who, if what I am told is true, catch chickens whenever they have a chance, and ducks too. These people have both, and the ducks have already taken possession of one end of our lake." 35 36 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. " That will do no harm," said the great-grandfather ; " in fact, it may do good. If those ducks are friendly, we can form an alliance with them ; we can agree to warn them when hawks are about, for we have a much better opportunity of seeing them than creatures which do not fly can possibly have ; and they can warn us if they see the people in the house making any preparations for gunning. But there is time enough ; we will let the people finish their house before we take any active steps, for while they are busy at that I think we shall be quite safe." Not many weeks passed before the house was completed, and the barn too ; then the wife and daughter of the man who had been building them came, and the family settled contentedly in its new home. Now, it was agreed that the young kingfisher who had first brought news of the arrival should make a formal call upon the ducks, and, should they seem friendly, propose the agreement to them. So he set off, and was pleased to find them gathered together at one end of the pond ; the old ducks were looking after some young ones who were taking their first swimming-lesson. He perched upon a bough which overhung the water, and made a few polite remarks about the weather to an old duck who was standing- on the bank. She deliberately turned her back to him and sat down in the grass. " Perhaps our language isn't the same," he thought to him- self; but just then another duck turned her head slightly toward the first one, and said in a low tone, "Such presumption!" ILL-BRED DUCKS. 39 The young kingfisher, whose family seldom used a long word when a short one would do as well, did not quite know what "pre- sumption " meant, but he quite understood what it meant when two of the ducklings swam under the stick upon which he was perched, stared very hard at him for a minute, and then swam toward the bank, eieehne to each other, "Well, of all the queer-looking crea- tures !" " Did you ever see such a bill ?" "And did you notice his feet?" "Impudent thing! trying to scrape acquaintance with our family!" The kingfisher, full of indignation, waited no longer, but flew back to his family and reported how he had been received. "There is no help for it, then," said the great-grandfather sorrow- fully ; "we must flyaway and found a new colony in that great wood by the river, two days' flight from here." So the kingfishers sadly left their old home, and founded a new one many miles away. And a year after the young kingfisher, hovering near the old place to see what changes had been made, heard the man who had built the house saying to a neighbor, "There's no use in trying to keep chickens here, or ducks either ; we've had so many carried off by hawks that we've given it up." A TRUE KNIGHT. H, mamma, the funniest old woman you ever saw in your life !" exclaimed little Ernest Kennedy, burst- ing into his mother's room almost as noisily as if he had been a bombshell, and quite forgetting that his cap was on his head instead of in his hand. But, somehow, something in his mother's smile must have made him remember it, for he turned even a little more red in the face than he had made himself by running, and took off his cap, saying in a much quieter voice, " I beg your pardon, mamma ; I didn't think. But I really wish you could have seen her ; I never saw anybody that looked at all like her." "Indeed?" said mamma. "Had she four hands or two heads, or was she a giantess or a dwarf?" " No : it wasn't in that way that she was funny," said Ernest, hesi- tating a little. " She had on queer shoes that looked like boats, and a sort of fly-away cap instead of a bonnet, and the waist of her dress was 'most up to her neck, and the skirt was so short that it made her look very funny indeed." " Then it was only her clothing which was ' funny ' ? said Mrs. Kennedy. "You gave me to understand that it was she herself; 40 A TRUE KNIGHT. 4 1 and there is a very wide difference, you know. I hope my little boy was not so rude as to let his amusement at this old woman be seen ?" Ernest hung his head, but he was as truthful as he was thought- less, and he said in a low voice, " I did laugh, mamma, but it was partly at what Harry Rhoads said." "And what did he say?" asked Mrs. Kennedy. " He asked what she'd take for her gunboats," he answered, very low indeed. Mrs. Kennedy looked sorry. "And is this my little True Knight," she said, "who told me the other day that when he grew up he meant to be another Sir Galahad, and ride through the world protecting all the weak people, and comforting all the sorrowful ones, and punishing all the cruel ones ? And he begins by laugh- ing at an old woman, who, from her dress, must be a stranger in a strange land, and joining in a rude and senseless joke about her to her very face !" The little boy stood silent for a moment, with his face working to keep back the tears, and then he threw himself sobbing into his mother's arms. " Indeed, indeed, I did not think, mamma," he said presently, " but I'll never do it again ; and the very next time I see her I'll tell her how sorry I am." " Now I have my little True Knight again," said his mother, kiss- ing away his tears ; " and you will soon have a chance to apologize to the old woman, for I think I know who she is. Mr. Chipman 42 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. told me the other day that if I wished any washing or cleaning done, he knew of a poor woman who would be very glad to do it ; and when I asked him who it was, he said he couldn't possibly pronounce her name, much less spell it, but that he knew where she lived, and that she had lately come from Germany. She has taken that little tumbledown house on the street that Mr. Chipman's store is on, but away out in the fields, and you and I might walk there this afternoon, as we each have an errand to her." " It must be the same old woman," said Ernest joyfully, " for I saw her go out that very street : and there couldn't be two ; do you think there could, mamma ?" "There might possibly be," said his mother, smiling, "but it is not at all probable. Now run and wash your face and hands and smooth your mane, or dinner will be ready for you before you are ready for it." There was nobody to dispute Ernest's right to the " pull-bone " of the chicken that graced the dinner-table, for he had neither sister nor brother ; but by his own request he was helped first to the "drumstick," and just as he was holding out his plate for a second help an idea occurred to him. " Mamma," he said, " do you think — Might I keep the rest of my share of the chicken to take to the old woman ? I could finish on bread and gravy, you know ; I'm not near full yet." "Yes, I think that would be a very good plan," replied his mother. " I will put it on a plate, and add the vegetables, and some A TRUE KNIGHT. 43 cranberry in a little bowl, and if you wish to make it still better you might give her your dessert." Ernest hesitated a little. "What is for dessert to-day, mamma?" he asked. " P e g&y' s ' queen of puddings,' " answered his mother. Ernest looked very undecided. Of all Peggy's puddings, the " queen," he thought, best deserved that name. But he suddenly remembered the surprised, distressed face of the poor old woman as she stood among the laughing boys of whom he had been one. "I'll do it, mamma," he said resolutely, " but you'll excuse me, won't you, before the pudding comes in ? I'm 'most afraid I couldn't stand it if I were once to see it." " Very well," said Mrs. Kennedy ; " I think that will be a wise thing to do. And don't you think that perhaps ' Lead us not into temptation' means something like this: 'Let us not be led, not stay, where we will be tempted ' ? You know it is so much easier to give anything up when we go quite away from it, instead of lingering around and looking at it." "I never thought of that before," said Ernest seriously, "but I'll try to remember it, mamma ; and oh, please excuse me, for I hear Peggy coming with the pudding." It was only to save Peggy's feelings that Mrs. Kennedy ate her share of pudding that day, for she knew how real her boy's self- denial had been, and the " queen " might have been the least of her subjects, for all the pleasure she gave Mrs. Kennedy. But 44 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Peggy was sensitive about the _ treatment which her dainties received, so a slice was duly eaten, and another, double in size, put into a deep saucer, and then into a basket with the nicely- covered plate containing the dinner, and a pretty napkin spread over the whole. It was quite a long walk from Mrs. Kennedy's house, which was just outside the town, to the forlorn old hut in which the poor German woman lived ; but the day was bright and pleasant, Ernest and his mother had, as usual, a good deal to talk about, and they thought the end of the walk came very soon. They found the old woman at home, busily digging up the little strip of garden in front of her house ; and Ernest, who was very much afraid that his courage would fail, whispered to his mother, " Let me speak first, please, mamma." It was quite evident that the old woman did not recognize him, which made it all the harder, but he "took his courage by both hands," as somebody says, and marched up to her, thinking of Sir Galahad, and " My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure." He made his best bow, and said resolutely, " I've come to beg your pardon, ma'am. I was very rude, and laughed at you this morning, and I'm truly sorry. Will you please forgive me ?" and he held out his hand. The old woman looked steadily at him for a moment, and then A TRUE KNIGHT. ' 45 a great tear rolled down her sunburned face. I will not attempt to write the broken English in which she spoke, but Ernest could understand her quite well, and this is what she said: "And I thought all the little American boys were bad and rude, and here is a little gentleman who asks pardon of an old, poor woman like me ! — My dear, I was not angry, only sorry. I said to myself, ' Those little boys do not know what it means to be old and poor and alone, or they would not laugh ; they would be more like cry- ing.' But do not feel any trouble ; I had forgiven you before, and now, if you will let me, I will love you." He had been afraid that she would be too angry even to listen to him ; he knew how being laughed at had always terribly enraged him ; and he looked up at her, saying simply, " I think you must be very good." "My dear," she answered, "shall I be angry for a little laugh- ing, when my holy Master prayed that His bitter enemies might be forgiven ?" Mrs. Kennedy found old Madelon only too thankful for the prom- ise of work ; so when that was settled they had a pleasant talk about gardening and chickens and dogs and cats ; and Madelon took them to the shed at the back of her house to show Ernest her two broods of young pigeons, which she intended raising to sell. He was delighted with the pretty little white creatures, and could scarcely talk of anything else all the way home, wondering whether if he should save his weekly six cents until the pigeons were old 46 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. enough to be taken from the mother-bird, he would have enough money to buy one for his own particular pet. His knighthood was put to more than one severe test in the weeks which followed. Madelon seemed fated to meet the school- boys at least two or three times a week, and the howl of derision which greeted Ernest when, a few days after his visit, he took off his cap and spoke to her pleasantly as she passed them, was almost too much for his resolution ; but he thought again of Sir Galahad, and of Him for whom Sir Galahad was fighting, and, to his great surprise, the boys soon ceased to ridicule him, and one or two of them even began to say it was " a shame " for the rest " to make fun of the poor old soul." Madelon soon had plenty to do, for Mrs. Kennedy found her so faithful and efficient that she could safely recommend her to others, and the forlorn house began to have a look of neatness and comfort which would have been thought impossible by any one seeing it a few months before. The time had come when Ernest's mother always took him for the yearly visit to her mother and father, who lived about five miles out of the little city where Ernest's home was. This visit was the greatest delight of the whole year, and was eagerly looked forward to for weeks before the time arrived. But when this year the day came upon which they were to go, Ernest felt strangely heavy and dull, and his mother began to think something must be the matter when the carriage came for them and he got quietly into it, with none of his usual joyful A TRUE KNIGHT. 47 excitement. There had been several showers during the day, and as they drew near the farm a beautiful rainbow spanned the pond, but Ernest went into no raptures ; he merely said, " Yes, it's very pretty, mamma ;" and he distressed grandma, after their arrival, "A BF.AUTIFUL RAINBOW SPANNED THE POND." by eating scarcely any supper and proposing to go to bed imme- diately afterward, although he had not yet seen the new calf or the kittens. And the next morning, after frightening everybody out of their wits by looking as if he had the small-pox, he relieved their minds by only having chicken-pox. 48 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. But he did not think there was any " only " about it, poor little boy ! To be shut up in one room with all out-of-doors calling to him to come and enjoy it ; to be obliged to postpone indefinitely the visits he had intended making to the calf and the kittens, and the egg-hunting expeditions when the hens were cackling under his window as if they were crazy : it did seem too much. He tried hard to be patient and not to give his mother trouble, but it was difficult work, and he said one day, rather fretfully, "This isn't like being a knight at all, mamma. I don't believe Sir Galahad ever had chicken-pox — do you ?" " I don't know, dear," replied his mother, smiling a little in spite of herself, " but you may be sure he had things to bear that were quite as hard. You know he rode on through the bitter winter nights, never stopping at any of the pleasant homes whose lighted windows he passed ; and he was not fighting then, but only endur- ing, which is much harder. So my little knight must learn to endure too. Don't you remember, when you were looking up all the texts about soldiers and fighting, how much you liked this one: 'Endure hardness as good soldiers of Christ'? Now you have the best possible chance to practise it." " Mamma, I think you must be Mrs. Interpreter," said Ernest joyfully. " I never thought of it in that way, but I will not grumble another single grumble — you see if I do." His resolution was sorely tried the very next day. He was growing better rapidly, but not more comfortable, for the bed felt 'GRANDMA SENT BIJOU WITH A BUNCH OF GRAPES." See Page 5I . A TRUE KNIGHT. 5 1 as if it were stuffed with chestnut-burrs, his eyes were too weak even for looking at pictures, and his restlessness made reading aloud seem tedious. Grandma sent Bijou, her funny little Skye terrier, with a bunch of white grapes, which he carried carefully by the stem, just as he had been told, and he sat on the bed and offered his paw to Ernest with a very sympathizing face. But the little boy was soon tired even of Bijou. It was a very rainy day, and, tantalizing as it had been to have "those conceited old hens" announcing- their eofSfS under his window, and the birds singing in the cherry tree just outside it, the silence into which the pouring rain had driven them seemed even worse. A long stretch of open fields lay before his window, with the road from the town winding through it, and it had been one of his amusements to watch the people coming and going, and the farmers bringing their horses to the blacksmith's shop, which stood beside the road. There was a good deal of travel on it during the day, notwithstanding the rain, and Ernest sat up in bed for some time, more interested in two refractory horses, which objected to being shod, than he had been in anything all that dull morning ; but after a while his back ached so that he was obliged to lie down again. " I will count five hundred with my eyes shut, mamma," he said, " before I look any more." The counting made him drowsy, and he was just dropping into 52 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. "TWO REFRACTORY HORSES OBJECTED TO BEING SHOD." a doze when his mother, who was standing at the window, suddenly exclaimed, " I do believe that is old Madelon coming along the road. Yes, it really is. Why, the poor old soul must have walked all the way from town in this pouring rain; and there is her funny little black dog with her ; and — can you see, Ernest? — what it is that she has in her basket ? It is something white." Just then a sudden gust of wind turned Madelon's large umbrella completely inside out ; her cap-ribbons — for she seldom wore a bonnet — fluttered wildly in the wind ; the white thing in the basket A TRUE KNIGHT. 53 fluttered too ; but Madelon and the little black dog, Fritz, plodded steadily on, and reached the gate at last, so dripping wet that no per- suasion could make them come farther than the out-kitchen, and even then the old woman apologized humbly for the " muss " that she and Fritz made on the clean brick floor. Grandmother Russell hastily hunted up some old clothes for Madelon to put on ; Fritz made his toilet by a succession of violent shakes ; and when both were perfectly dry they were shown into Ernest's room. The basket went too, and in it was the very pret- tiest white pigeon that he had ever seen. It had a fluffy topknot, a fluffier ruff round its neck, and a' fan-tail of which it seemed immensely vain. It was perfectly tame, and its soft cooing as it fluttered and strutted about the room sounded to Ernest like the sweetest music. "And you really brought it for me? quite for my own ?" he said, putting up his face to give old Madelon the kiss which he consid- ered his warmest expression of thanks. "For thee, dear little one," answered Madelon with a tender smile; "and I would it were much more, but it is my best." " But, you poor, dear woman, why did you take this long walk on such a terribly rainy day ? and how did you know that Ernest was ill?" asked Mrs. Kennedy, laying her hand kindly on the old woman's shoulder. " It was Mr. Chipman who told me of the illness," answered 54 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Madelon ; " and this was the very first day on which I had not to work ; and the rain is not so bad to me, dear madame, as it would be to you, so often I have walked to my work in storms worse than this soft, warm rain, which only wets ; it does not freeze and chill. And I said to myself that the little boy would be feeling yet more dull to-day because of the rain, and that even a small thing would amuse him; so Fritz and I walked stoutly on, and here we are. The poor umbrella ! it has had the worst." Grandmother Russell would not hear of Madelon's returning home that night, so she and Fritz were made comfortable with good suppers and good beds ; and in the morning, just as she was cheer- fully starting on her five-mile walk, long before six o'clock, in order to be in time for her day's work, grandfather drove up to the door in the " Germantown wagon," announcing that he had an early errand to do in town, and that she must allow him the pleasure of taking her home. And when she uncovered the basket in which the white pigeon had travelled, she found one of grandmother's loaves of sweet brown bread and two of her special prints of "grass butter." And the result of a long " think " which Ernest took just before he went to sleep that rainy evening was this somewhat singular remark: " Mamma, I don't think I'm much of a True Knight; I think it's Madelon." El*?3f r^>~- ,. can help you get the children read)-." J£jpj^ "Yes, dear," said mamma, smiling, for of these "children" one was two years older than Bessy, and the other only a year younger, — "yes, dear, I will call you in time to help me, but I shall be quite satisfied, and a little surprised, if you have your- self ready in time." "Oh, mamma!" said Bessy reproachfully; "as if I could help being ready for such a day as we're going to have to-morrow!" " But you know, dear," replied her mother, " how many times, 55 56 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. even pleasant times, you have kept us waiting for one of your ' minutes ;' and to-morrow morning, if you are not ready, we must just go without you, for trains and boats are like time and tide — they wait for no man." "Well, if I don't get right straight up when you call me, mamma," said Bessy, ." I wish you would please pinch me, and pull all the bed-clothes off me, and sprinkle cold water in my face." " I'll help with the pinching and cold-water business," said Rob obligingly ; and Ruth added cheerfully, " So will I, Bess." Mr. and Mrs. Wylie, the father and mother of these three chil- dren, had for some years been in the habit of making a little excursion or giving them a picnic on Mrs. Wylie's birthday. Ever since Bessy could remember the day had been marked by a pleas- ure of this kind, but this year it was to be something quite new and altogether delightful. None of the children had ever seen the ocean, although they lived within ninety miles of it, and this time the excursion was to be taken to Sea-Girt. They were to go by a very early train, and not to leave the beach until seven o'clock in the evening ; so there would be the whole delightfully long day by the sea, besides the charming novelty of coming home in an evening train. You may think it strange that Bessy felt any doubt about being ready for such a day as this, but you would not if you knew what a bad habit she had of putting everything off. Papa called her his "minute-man," because her invariable answer, no matter what she "IN A MINUTE.- 57 was told or asked to do, was "In a minute." And sometimes the minutes would be multiplied by ten, and sometimes by twenty, or even by thirty or forty. Mrs. Wylie recommended everybody to go to bed early the night before the excursion. The train was to leave at half-past six, so breakfast must be at six. Then there were the lunch-baskets to be packed, and although everything that could be was ready over- night, some of the preparation must, of course, be left until morn- ing. Ruth and Bessy slept in the same room, their two pretty lit- tle bedsteads standing in opposite corners, and there were so much to talk about while they were undressing that when Mrs. Wylie looked in, on her way to her room at nine o'clock, they were still sitting on the floor, gradually taking off their shoes and stockings. But there was time yet for eight hours' good sleep, and they hur- ried into bed, after repeated requests to their mother to call them not a minute later than five. They felt as if they had said this about five minutes ago when they were waked by Rob's pounding on the door. " Mamma says it's five o'clock, girls," he shouted. " She wouldn't let me knock you up before, but I've been dressed for half an hour, and I'm going to the baker's for the rolls right away. Get up, get up, you lazy little things !" Ruth was out of bed in a minute, and before her eyes were fairly open dressing and chattering all at once. " Oh, Bess," she said, " do you think there'll be donkeys ? I've been dreaming about it 58 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. all. I saw them just as plain as plain, and the ocean too, and I'll be so disappointed if there are none, and if it doesn't look like I dreamed it!" Bessy turned over with her customary morning groan. " Oh THE DONKEYS OF RUTH'S DREAM. dear !" she yawned ; " I don't hardly think I've been asleep at all. Rob must be mistaken ; it can't be five o'clock yet." " Oh yes it can," answered Ruth briskly, "or Rob wouldn't have said so. Come, Bess : just think how dreadful it would be if you were to be too late !" " It won't take me a whole hour to dress," said Bessy, still more drowsily ; " I'll get up in a minute." •IN A MINUTE." 59 " But you know we were to help mamma," said Ruth reproach- fully. " Oh, do get up, Bessy ! I'll not pinch you, but I'll just tickle you a little ;" and Ruth stopped dressing long enough to give Bessy a vigorous tickle. But Bessy only smiled lazily, and did not even open her eyes. By the time Ruth was nearly dressed Rob was pounding on the door again. " It's half-after," he called, " and I've pfot the rolls — three dozen of 'em, magnificent big fellows. Come ; you're dreadfully slow this morning." " Oh, Rob," said Ruth anxiously, " I can't make Bess get up. What shall I do?" " You let me in there for a minute and /'// start her." " Very well," answered Ruth, opening the door ; " but what will you do ?" " Sprinkle her," said Rob ; whereat, with a dismal howl, Bessy buried her head under the bed-clothes, and no persuasions from Ruth or Rob could bring it out again, but a smothered voice said angrily, "It's too soon to get up ; just let me alone. I won't get up while you plague me so." At that moment Mrs. Wylie was heard calling from the foot of the stairs, " Come, children, breakfast's ready ; come at once, or you'll be late." Ruth and Rob gave Bessy a parting shake and hurried down stairs. 6o HOLIDAYS AT HOME. "Why, where's Bessy?" asked Mrs. Wylie as they sat down to breakfast. "We've done everything we could, mamma," said Rob: "we've shaken and talked to her, but she won't budge." Mrs. Wylie looked worried. " I would have come to call her myself," she said, "but I thought I heard you all talking and laugh- ing together, and made my mind quite easy ; and if I stop to wake her and help her get ready now, we shall all be left, for there is no time to spare." Fifteen minutes later Bessy was waked from a delicious nap by the closing of the front door. Scarcely knowing what she did, she sprang out of bed with a little cry, and, still half asleep, put on her white frock, tied her sash, as she always did, in front, and then " worked " it round into place. This fully waked her, and she real- ized that the people walk- ing quickly toward the station, armed with bas- - bessy sat forlornly on the bed." kets and umbrellas, were her mother and father and Ruth and Rob. And when the kind- hearted Irish girl who was Mrs. Wylie's only servant came up 'SHE SEATED ONE OF THE DOLLS ON HER LAP' See Page 63. 'IN A MINUTE." 63 a few minutes later to see about the little girl, as Mrs. Wylie had charged her to do, she found Bessy sitting forlornly on the bed, her night-cap still on her curly head, and her bare feet stick- ing out from her clean white dress. " Come, dear, and get your breakfast," said Katty soothingly. "They left you the full of a basket of all the fine things they had, and your mamma said I might picnic you out under the big tree." At first Bessy felt as if she should never eat anything more in her whole life, but when she had taken her bath, and Katty had helped her to dress, and she found the little table temptingly spread under the walnut tree, she changed her mind and made a very good breakfast, with her doll and Ruth's perched up in two chairs for company. But they were very silent company, and during the long day that followed she did some of the best thinking she had ever done in her little life. For the day seemed as if it would never come to an end. She lingered as long as she could over her breakfast. Then she took a new story-book, which Ruth and she had been reading together, and, seating one of the dolls on her lap, offered amiably to read aloud to her. But the doll's stupid stare and blank silence were too painfully in contrast with Ruth's animated face and merry comments on the story, so she soon gave it up, and wandered out of doors again. And now she saw clearly, for the first time, how much unhappiness she was giving as well as taking. She had never before acknowledged, even to herself, that 64 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. most of the " unpleasantness " about the house was owing to her : she always thought, if she did not say, that some one else was to blame, and she had spoken of her bad habit as if it were a lame leg or a broken arm — something for which she was to be pitied rather than blamed. And she certainly was to be pitied, but not exactly in the manner which she required. She had more than many children have to make her happy and comfortable, but she succeeded in making herself — and, what was worse, a number of other people — anything but comfortable the greater part of the time ; for somebody who is never ready, and never does her share of the lifting and pulling until she is absolutely obliged to, even if she is a very small somebody, can spoil a good many things. She made a very earnest and prayerful resolve to fight this dragon of slothfulness ; and-by way of a good beginning she offered to set the table for the late supper, so that, when the picnic-party came home, sunburnt and tired and hungry, it did not find Bessy fretful and injured, but very gentle and penitent and humble. She is having a hard fight with her dragon, but it helps her greatly to think that the great apostle who charges us to be " fer- vent in spirit, serving the Lord," thought it worth while also to charge us to be " not slothful in business." THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. T was Christmas Eve, and from sweet-toned bells in many parts of the great city came joyful notes, now chiming- out a tune, now ringr- ing peals and catches, until the frosty-looking stars seemed twink- mt ling back the sounds to the glisten- p§ ing, newly-fallen snow. Windows full of wonderful things, which Santa Claus had not yet had time to collect, glittered and shone in the gaslight, the tinkle of sleigh-bells was everywhere, and there was such a joyous stir and bustle among the people crowding the streets that it was hard to realize that underneath it all there were want and sadness in many hearts and homes. The windows drew about them eager faces which were so small that one knew they must be children's faces, but which were old in sorrow or sin, or both. But amonsj them were some still fresh and cheerful and pleasant. Before the brilliant show in the window of a great toyshop stood a tall, slender young girl, whose honest face wore a steady, settled look, as if she had had more responsibility than usually falls to one so young. On her arm she held a rosy-cheeked 65 66 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. baby boy some two or three years old, and a little girl of five or six was holding her skirt. They had been " choosing," without the least regard to the prob- able cost, until nearly everything in the window was chosen ; then, with a little laugh that ended in a sigh, the older sister turned away, saying, " Come, Polly ; if we choose so much, Santa Claus won't bring anything. Dick is half asleep now, and you know I have the meat to buy yet, and the medicine for mother." " Oh, but, Rena," said the little girl, " I haven't finished. I choose that picture for mother, and that great big jumping-jack for Dick, and that workbox for you, and — " " Come, leave the poor shopman a little," said Rena gayly. " I am very much obliged for my workbox, and I will mend all your clothes out of it ; but Dick is sleepy, and is growing heavier every minute, and mother is all alone, you know, and she will want her tea." " Do you think we are going to have money enough for just a little, little tree?" asked Polly earnestly. "See, there's the poor old man who has been trying to sell them all day. His nose looks quite frozen, and he has tied his handkerchief over his ears. Let's ask him how much it is for the very smallest one." " We must wait till the other things are bought, dear," answered Rena. " Here we are at the butcher's, and the drug-store is just across the way ; we will soon know." When the joint of meat for the Christmas dinner and the bottle ' RE.VA ONCE MORE COUNTED THE THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. 69 of medicine for the sick mother were paid for, there were just ten cents left. "I'm afraid we can't get even a little tree for that," said Rena as they came to the corner where the old man still stood rubbing his benumbed hands together in a vain effort to warm them, " but I'll ask him. — Have you any smaller trees in the wagon, sir?" " Now, what would anybody want with a smaller tree than that?" said the old man, rather crossly. He was very cold, and he had not sold as many trees as he had hoped to, and he was wishing himself beside the fire at home. " It was only because of the price," replied Rena, humbly. " I haven't much money left, and I was afraid this little tree, with the cross-piece to make it stand, might cost more than I had, so I thought perhaps you had some in the wagon without it." " And so I have, my dear," said the old man in a much pleasanter tone, " but I'm afraid I shall not sell even these to-night, and I'd sooner give you the one with the stand for the price of one with- out it than unload any more. You can have that smallest one for fifteen cents; and sure that's cheap enough." Rena with a very grave face once more counted the money in her hand, but no counting could make it more than ten cents. "Yes, I suppose it is cheap," she answered sadly, "but I've only ten cents left." "You might run home and bring the other five," suggested the old man ; " I'll wait for you here." "JO HOLIDAYS AT HOME. "Thank you, that is very kind," replied Rena, "but this is all we can spare. I'm sorry, for we've always had a tree before. Good-night, sir, and a happy Christmas to you !" and Rena stooped to lift the basket from the shelter of the little trees. " Wait a minute, my dear, and don't be so hasty," said the old man. " There's a saying that ' A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' Very likely I'll sell no more trees to-night, and then all to-morrow I'll be thinking that I might have made ten cents more ; so take it along : it's so small that the little one there can easily carry it." " Oh, thank you very much," said Rena joyfully. — " Here, Polly, hold it in your arms, so. — I hope you'll have a happy Christmas sir; good-night." " Happy Christmas, sir — good-night," echoed Polly. "The same to you, my dears, and here's an end of the tied greens to go over your looking-glass ;" and the old man hung a pretty green coil round Polly's neck. With fresh thanks and good wishes Rena and Polly started briskly for home ; and the invalid mother's face brightened at sight of the cheerful green things and on hearing about the old man's kindness. " He put something in my coat-pocket when he hung the wreath round my neck," said Polly, pulling off her mittens to search out the mystery. — "Why, Rena, it's the ten cents! Oh, the dear, kind old gentleman ! Now we can have five little candles for the tree. THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. 7 1 Please go quickly, Rena, and buy them, and we'll have it all lighted when father comes home." Rena went very willingly, having first unwrapped the sleepy baby and laid him beside his mother on the bed ; and by the time the tired father, discouraged with one more fruitless search for work, came slowly up the stairs, the little tree's five candles were burning cheerily. Rena and Polly told him all about it as they flew around setting the table and dishing the hot mush for supper, and he quite agreed with them about the kindness of the gift. He hung the wreath over the door before they sat down to supper, and the candles were carefully blown out, that they might last for another lighting. Rena, with a significant look at her father and Polly, poured a few spoonfuls of milk over the plate of mush which she carried to her mother ; the rest of them ate it with no sauce but that of a good, hearty appetite. " That isn't bad after the tramp I've had to-day," said the father, helping himself to another plateful. "And no work yet, father?" asked Rena. " No, my dear," he answered sadly. " They read Mr. Hutton's letter in several places, and were very civil and very sorry, but had nothing for me to do. But we'll try not to fret Christmas away. It's been running in my mind all day, 'Trust in the Lord, and be doing good; dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.' It goes against me to use your little savings, daughter, but with those and your wages we can pull through for two or three weeks more ; 72 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. and surely by that time a man who is willing to do anything honest can find something to do." " Of course he can," said the mother's weak voice, cheerfully ; "and you haven't counted me. You'll see when you eat your dinner to-morrow, and when the little tree blazes up again, that I didn't learn to crochet for nothing." " Bless your dear heart! there's no putting you down;" and her husband left the table to give her a hearty kiss. "Is there any mush left, Rena?" asked the mother. "Yes, mother," answered Rena, scraping it into a bowl; "I can take a little of the beef-fat and fry it for breakfast." " I know something better than that to do with it," said the father. " I don't believe that poor little soul on the floor above has tasted anything hot to-day ; it's all her mother can do to get bread for them and keep a little fire. — Run up with what's left, Polly, and tell her to eat it while it's hot ; folks who are going to have such a dinner as your mother's hinting at can afford to eat bread for breakfast." Polly skipped up stairs with the bowl of mush, and was gone ten or fifteen minutes. When she came back with the empty bowl she was half crying. " It's all dark but what comes in from the street," she said, "and Jeanie is all by herself. Her mother had to go away off with some work, and she says they've only bread for dinner to-morrow, and that if they buy any candles they won't have that; and I don't see why they can't light the gas." THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. 73 " I suppose because they can't pay for it, dear," said the mother. " Did Jeanie like the mush ?" " She said it was too good for anything," answered Polly glee- fully, her little face changing suddenly from tears to smiles, " and she kept half of it for her mother. Oh, suppose we give her the tree?" " You shall if you like, darling, and if Rena is willing," said the mother. " Dick is too little to be consulted, even if he were awake." "Of course I'm willing," said Rena brightly. "The little tree has shone for us, and now it can go and shine for Jeanie. — We'll light it again, Polly, and carry it up so." When Jeanie's tired mother came home with the little sum for which she had walked so far, and which must be spread out over a whole week, she heard singing ; two thin little voices were piping out — " Carol, carol, Christians, Carol joyfully ; Carol for the coming Of Christ's nativity. Carol ! ca-rol !" And when she opened the door, instead of finding a dark room and a lonely little daughter, she found two carollers, and the little tree shining in the corner of the room, with one white, one red, one yellow, one blue, and one green candle interspersed among its spreading branches. 74 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Polly said good-night and ran down stairs, and Jeanie's mother drew from under her shawl a whole pound of candles. " Oh, where did you get them ? I'm so glad !" cried Jeanie joy- fully ; "I hate to sit in the dark." " Mr. Chipman gave them to me when I paid his bill," answered Jeanie's mother. " He's the best man alive, I do believe, and I suppose he's noticed that I haven't bought any lately. Now we can light one and save your tree for another night. I don't know yet where you got it." So Jeanie told about the mush and Polly and the tree, and the poor widow's heart grew warm as she listened : times were hard, and keeping alive was a struggle, but the feeling of loneliness which had oppressed her all day was gone. " If I were a rich woman," she said as she lighted the one candle and put out the five, " the person I'd see to first would be that little lame child across the entry. I caught sight of her face as I came in, and I can't get it out of my head ; she'll not live long if they can't feed her a little better." " Do you believe they've any Christmas over there ?" asked Jeanie with a quick glance at the tree. "No, indeed, poor souls!" said her mother. "They'll be thank- ful for one meal to-morrow, let alone three, and I don't believe they've had more than one to-day." "Then I know what I'm going to do." Jeanie spoke quickly, as if she did not wish to think. " I'm going to light my tree again "HAPPY LITTLE CHILDREN WOKE TO SEARCH THEIR STOCKINGS." Set- Page ;3 THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. 77 and give it to her. Polly won't care — she's too good — and I can always see it if I shut my eyes." And, springing up, she relit the five little candles, now burnt half away, and slowly and carefully carried the tree across the entry. The pale little cripple started up with a rapturous " Oh !" at sight of the tree, and when Jeanie explained that she was to keep it, and that it would be pretty and green for days after the candles were burnt away, the wan face was lifted for a kiss, and then the child lay with folded hands, gazing at the tree. " It smells like the woods we went to once," she murmured. — "Oh, mammy, look! don't you care ?" The sullen, hard-looking woman raised her head, and her face softened, "Yes, my dear, it's rarely pretty," she said, more kindly than she had spoken for days ; and Jeanie, well satisfied,, stole out of the room. "Will you put it out now, mother, so that it may burn a little to-morrow night ?" asked the child. As her mother rose to do it a woman who' lived in one of the lower rooms came in without the ceremony of knocking. " Poor old granny's going fast," she said, " and I came to see if you'd that prayer-book that used to be on the table. She's begging of us to> pray with her, and she seems so distressed I thought I'd try to* read: her a prayer, even if they made game of me for it. She's wander- ing like, and keeps saying bits of hymns about Christmas, and talking to her children, poor soul ! and they all dead and gone 78 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. years ago I She's said a dozen times, ' Light the tree, father, and then call them in.' " The little cripple rose on her bed. " Oh, Mrs. Keely," she said eagerly, " carry her down my tree. She'll think it's her children's. Do, please." "You poor little soul!" said the kind-hearted woman ; "it's the only sign of Christmas you've got or are likely to get ; you'd better keep it." " Indeed, I'd rather she'd have it, please," she said, so earnestly that Mrs. Keely yielded, and the wistful eyes followed the tree out of the door and along the entry until the stairs swallowed it up. The mother had silently handed Mrs. Keely the prayer-book. The dying eyes grew strangely bright as the little tree twinkled before them, and the feeble voice murmured, " ' In the silent midnight Centuries ago.' 1 " That was all. "She's with the children now, poor dear!" said Mrs. Keely softly, " and I'll take the tree back to the poor little girl ; it'll com- fort her, maybe, and it can't do granny any more good." Christmas Day dawned brightly, and the happy little children in warm, comfortable homes woke to search their well -filled stockings and to rejoice over the many gifts prepared by loving hearts and hands. But to those of whom I have been telling you no more of the outward part of Christmas came than the small share which had THE TRAVELS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. 79 come on Christmas Eve. Yet they were not unhappy ; the Christ- mas love and warmth were in their hearts ; and "The heart aye's the part aye That sets us right or wrong." Perhaps the happiest of them all was the little cripple, whose tree, standing in the one window of the room, wafted its wild-wood •ONE OF THE LADIES OF THE FLOWER MISSION BROUGHT HER A BUNCH OF ROSES.' fragrance to the child, until, shutting her eyes, she " made believe " she was in the woods once more. Day after day the sun made 8o HOLIDAYS AT HOME. shadows of her tree for her on the floor of her room — beautiful out-of-doors shadows. The worn, hard face of the despairing mother grew softer, her voice gentler, as she sat at her ceaseless work in the shadow of the Christmas tree. Not until one of the kind ladies of the Flower Mission brought the little cripple a bunch of glowing roses did she give up the dingy and yellow pine-bough which had been such a delight to her ; and then, not willing that it should be thrown into the muddy street, she begged her mother to burn it. Dear little hearts, when Christmas comes again is there nothing you can do to send into cheerless homes a share of the Christmas joy HOME WITH THE TIDE. ^i A LL night the storm had beaten Like thunder on the rock, EL) And the mother's heart had trembled And sunk with every shock ; g^ •£"■ And closer she held her baby, Whispering, "Ah, by dawn Thou may'st be an orphan, little one — Thy father may be gone." The storm died into silence As daylight slowly broke, And with laughter and with crooning The little baby woke. The mother, worn with watching, Gathered him on her arm : " We will go to the beach, my baby, and see If the storm has wrought us harm." She sat on a rock and waited, But she looked not toward the sea ; She only asked the fishers, " Have you any news for me ?" si 82 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. And she watched old Ailie gathering Moss from the rocks below. " Her man was drowned," the young wife thought, "And her two lads, long ago." "SHE SAT ON A ROCK AND WAITED.' But a merry shout from the fishers Raised the sad eyes suddenly; A little boat rode gayly Over the tossing sea. HOME WITH THE TIDE. Fast as the wind could brine her She came with her sail spread wide. " Oh, baby ! father is coming!" The happy mother cried ; And she held her baby up to look — " He's coming home with the tide." COURAGE. OERHAPS there are about six boys in all Christen- dom who are really glad when holidays are over and school begins again, but the boys who be- longed to Mr. Brainard's school were a good deal less sorry than most schoolboys are. There were only about twelve of them, and Mrs. Brainard knew each one, and mothered all ; and it must be a very lazy and unambitious boy who was not roused to interest in his studies by Mr. Brainard. The summer vacation of the school was Over, most of the boys had returned, and Jack Lyman, who was among the older ones, had just driven up to the door in Mr. Brainard's light wagon with a small boy and a large trunk. Jack liked driving, and was often trusted with the steady old horse which Mr. Brainard kept chiefly for journeys to and from the station. Mrs. Brainard came out to welcome the new-comer, while some of the smaller boys gathered round. The little fellow was so slender, and his face was so small and thin, that Mrs. Brainard's motherly heart was touched with pity for him. COURAGE. 35 " I am glad to see you, dear," she said, taking his hand with a warm clasp in both her own. — " Boys, this is Everard Phillips ; he is the only 'new boy' this term, and you must all do the honors Lmlfl '&& "MRS. BRAINARD CAME OUT TO WELCOME THE NEW-COMER." of the school. Remember how strange it seemed to you at first, and try to make the new member of our family feel at home." "It didn't seem strange to me long after I saw you, Mrs. Brain- ard," said Jack Lyman with his pleasant smile, "and I don't believe 86 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. it will to him ; it sha'n't if we can help it;" and he put his hand kindly on the little fellow's shoulder." Mrs. Brainard smiled brightly in return. " Thank you, Jack," she said; and then, turning toward the two smallest boys, one of whom was hiding behind her and peeping at the new-comer, she introduced them to him, saying with a loving smile, "These are my own two little sons, Alan and Rob ; and now we will go in and you shall be introduced to their small sister, of whom we are all very proud, for she is the only girl among a baker's dozen of boys." " He looks like a girl in boy's clothes," said Ned Lane contempt- uously as soon as Mrs. Brainard and the new boy were out of hearing. " I wonder if he does his hair himself or if he's to have a maid ?" • " Oh, come, now, Lane," said Jack good-naturedly ; " we can't all be as powerful as you are, and I hope you won't chaff him : his mother died a month or two ago, and he's just been very ill, but he'll soon pick up here ; and I dare say Mrs. Brainard will have his hair cut." " I'll not hurt him," said Ned with a grin which did not quite agree with his words, " but a little bracing up will be good for him." Master Ned's ideas of " bracing up" were peculiar, and the new boy was soon the object of as many small annoyances as Ned felt it safe to offer him. On learning his name, Ned persisted in call- COURAGE. 87 ing him " Evie " and " Miss Phillips," and made so many sarcastic allusions to his hair that the little fellow soon asked and obtained permission to have it cut close. Jack stood between Everard and "A SUDDEN GUST OF WIND TOOK OFF EVERARD'S CAP." his tormentor whenever he could, and was pleased with the quiet manliness which the little fellow showed ; he rarely answered Ned's 88 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. taunts, and, but for the quick flush which passed over his face, seemed not to mind them. School was just out one windy day in March, and the day- scholars, of whom there were five or six, were starting for their homes. Several of the boarders went a little way with them, and among these were Jack, Ned, and Everard. The latter had grown both taller and stouter, and would scarcely have been recognized as the pale and thin little little fellow who had come in the fall ; but he was still very quiet and reserved, except to Mrs. Brainard and Jack, and cared more for books than for play. A sudden gust of wind took off his cap, and he tried in vain to catch it ; succes- sive puffs sent it flying along the road, and finally into a pool of muddy water. One of the day-scholars good-naturedly helped him to fish it out, but it was soaked and spoiled. Everard's " Thank you " was said with trembling lips, and the boys, to their utter astonishment, saw that his eyes were full of tears. Ned gave a loud whoop, and then said, with mock sympathy, "And did its little cap get wet? Never mind, we'll hang it up to dry." And, seizing the cap before Everard could prevent him, he was about to toss it into a tree when Jack grasped him by the shoulder, saying sternly, " You drop that ! Give it back to him if you know what's good for you." "You needn't grab me like that; it's none of your business, any- how," said Ned sullenly, but at the same time " shying " the cap at COURAGE. 89 Everard with such good aim that it struck him full in the face. The little fellow turned without a word and ran home. Jack's grasp tightened and his lips were white with his effort at self-control as he said, "If I catch you bullying that boy just once more, Ned Lane, I'll give you the thrashing you ought to have had some time ago ; as it is, I'm so strongly tempted to duck you that I'd advise you to take the temptation out of my sight ;" and he flung Ned from him rather forcibly. Ned hesitated a moment, and then walked away crestfallen. Jack's easy good-nature had misled him, at the beginning of their acquaintance, into presuming upon it, and he had still a wholesome recollection of the consequences. Jack went in search of Everard, whom he at last found in one of the dormitories with his face hidden in his pillow. " Oh, come, now,"' said Jack cheerfully ; " I wouldn't take that pup's behavior so hard if I were you. I think I've settled him for a while anyhow, and, if you'll let me say so, you ought to try not to give way so before him ; it gives him a sort of clinch on you, don't you see ? And nobody will haul you up about the cap ; Mrs. Brainard never makes a fuss about things of that kind." " It's not that," said Everard with a quivering voice. " You're very kind, Jack, but you don't understand. Mother made me that cap only a month before — " He did not finish the sentence, but after a few minutes' pause he said : " It was the very last thing she made me. We were away in the country, and I had spoiled all my hats and caps somehow, and she took a piece of cloth she had 90 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. brought to embroider on, and made this one all herself, without even a pattern ; and she was so proud of it ! I've been meaning to put it away, for fear something would happen to it, but it seemed to me that while I wore it I was nearer somehow — I can't explain it." " I understand," said Jack softly. " I beg your pardon with all my heart. And I just want to tell you something : you're coming to spend your summer vacation with me if you've no plan you like better for it. Mrs. Brainard's a lovely woman, but the mother had a little baby that died ever so long ago, before I was born, and she's been mothering everybody she ■ could get hold of ever since, I do believe." Everard's cheerfulness increased rapidly after this talk, and he was never weary of hearing Jack tell about his home and " the mother." The precious cap was carefully cleaned and dried, and then, by Jack's advice, locked safely away in Everard's bureau ; and Ned, who was much more thoughtless than malicious, and who did not wish to have a quarrel with a boy so popular as Jack was, took care to let Everard alone when the latter was present, knowing well that Everard would not report to him the remarks made in his absence. Mrs. Brainard's baby May was the pet and plaything of all the boys, boarders and day-scholars ; there were lively contentions for the honor of pushing her coach and giving her pickaback and COURAGE. 91 shoulder rides ; and she returned the general affection with a per- fect trustfulness in everybody's goodwill which had more influence over the boys than they themselves knew. She patted their heads, whenever she could reach them, exactly as she caressed the large black dog which was nearly always with her, and, as she had no favorites, she had no enemies ; her faith in dogs and boys had never been shaken. Mrs. Brainard generally stayed within call when the small queen was among her rough subjects, but one afternoon it happened that Mr. Brainard needed her help with some of his school-work ; the nurse was away, and she stood unde- cided what to do. The day was so bright and warm that she dis- liked to bring the baby in-doors, and she knew, besides, that her ladyship would accept no divided service, and that an attempt at helping Mr. Brainard with Baby May in the room would only suc- ceed in hindering him. The boys had been playing rather actively, and were now resting in the shade, and as soon as they understood her perplexity she had plenty of volunteers. " She'll be pulled to pieces if I give her to all of you to take care of," said Mrs. Brainard, with the loving smile which had helped to win her so many hearts ; " so I must make a special appointment of three, as I did the last time I was in distress. I will take the three nearest to the throne : Ned, Charlie, Everard, you can relieve guard for each other ; it will only be for an hour, and if you want me you will find me in the library. I don't know where Lion is, or he would help you." 2 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Lion, who was the large dog aforesaid, knew very well where he was : somebody had thoughtlessly shut him into one of the reci- tation-rooms, which was on the second floor, and his mind was divided between risking a jump from the open window and rais- ing a howl that should also raise the house. " Keep her quite away from the pond, please," Mrs. Brainard turned to say as she was entering the house: "she has had a desire within the last few days to go ' fissing,' she tells me, and she is so daring that I am in constant terror about her." The boys were soon tired of doing nothing, and when one of them suesfested that it was cooler in the barn, and that a rame of " Follow my Leader " could be played there as well as out of doors, the rest started up with alacrity, with the exception of the little queen's body-guard. Ned and Charlie grumbled a little, but Everard, who was deep in a book of fairy-stories, scarcely heard them until Charlie exclaimed, "I say, Everard, you've been read- ing ever since Mrs. Brainard went in, and haven't taken your share : suppose you take it now, and Ned and I will be back in half an hour and let you off to your book again." " Very well," said Everard, to whom the arrangement seemed quite fair; and he rather reluctantly closed the book. Baby May had been sitting contentedly in her chariot, playing with a strings of bright beads and chatterino- to the audience in general, and she was not at all pleased when the audience uncere- moniously left her to her own devices. She immediately asked to LION WAS ALREADY PULLING FAIiY MAY FROM THE WATER." See Page 95. COURAGE. 95 be taken " fissing ;" and Everard, to keep her from fretting, fas- tened a bit of paper to a string, and the string to a stick, and told her to fish over the side of her carriage. This was some- thing entirely new and delightful, and she entered into it with spirit, laughing gleefully every time she landed her fish. " I'll just finish this story : there's only a little left, and I must see how he got out of the cavern," said Everard to himself as he opened his book once more, answering the scruple which rose in his conscience at the idea of neglecting his trust in this way. The baby's perfect contentment beguiled him into beginning another story, and he was soon so entirely absorbed that he had forgotten everything else ; and little May might have made much more noise than she did without rousing him when she softly let herself down over the side of her carriage — an accomplishment which she had very lately acquired — and stole away to the pond on the other side of the house. The child's shrill scream and an answering roar from Lion roused him suddenly from his book, but before he could think almost the great dog had leaped from the window, gathered him- self up from the grass, and rushed toward the pond ; and when Everard reached the bank Lion was already pulling Baby May from the water. Charlie and Ned, true to their promise, had been returning to " relieve guard " as the clog leaped from the window, and all three boys stood in silent dismay as Lion gently drew the dripping baby up the bank. 9 6 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Then Ned broke out angrily, as he gathered up the sobbing child and started for the house : "You've made a fine mess of it! Mrs. Brainard will blame all three of us alike, and say we're not fit to be trusted, when I suppose the fact is you went on reading as soon as our backs were turned, and didn't care what became of the baby." Everard made no answer ; he only hastened on to meet Mrs. Brainard, who came toward them pale and frightened, for she had heard May's scream. " Don't stop me with explanations," she said as he tried to speak; "give me my baby." A warm bath and a good rubbing saved the little lady from any ill effects of her adventure, and when she was asleep, and it was evident that she had taken no harm, Mrs. Brainard sent for the three boys. Everard had felt no hesitation when he had tried to explain the accident to her at first, but the hour's delay had changed his feel- ing. He was tempted to allow the other boys to share the blame — to say that they should not have left the baby any more than he should have read — and, above all, not to screen his enemy. But when it came to this the tide turned : his mother's eentle teaching came back to him, and he resolutely put down the temptation, and, with a silent prayer for strength, spoke before any question could be asked. " Ned and Charlie are not to blame, Mrs. Brainard," he said ; " it COURAGE. 97 was all my fault. I was taking my turn — they had taken theirs — and I g;ot to reading when I knew I shouldn't, and I never heard her slip away, nor anything, till I heard her scream ; and if she'd been drowned — " He stopped, unable to go on. "And I felt so sure I could trust you!" said Mrs. Brainard sor- rowfully. " That is the worst of all. Baby is not hurt, but if — Oh, Everard, I am afraid it will be a long time before I can trust you acjain." " I suppose it will," said Everard humbly, " but if you can only say you forgive me, Mrs. Brainard, I can go to work to make you willing to trust me again." Nobody who asked in earnest ever asked twice for forgiveness here, and Mrs. Brainard's warm " I do forgive you, dear," and her loving kiss, gave Everard fresh hope and courage. When the three boys were outside the door, Ned threw his arm across Everard's shoulder. " You've faced the music like a man," he said ; " I don't believe / could have done it. I'd have thought a third of the blame quite as much as I could shoulder. I'm not much of a speech-maker, but I will say this : I'll go to Jack and ask him to thrash me, and then throw me into the pond, the next time I catch myself bullying you." n^HE first of June was little Milly Graham's birthday, and she ■* thought it the loveliest day of the whole year. This was partly because, in many ways, it really was — partly because, ever since she could remember, so many things had been done to make her happy on that day that she must have been a very cross- grained little girl indeed if she had not been as happy as she was meant to be. She was a little only daughter, and for fear she should feel lonesome, with neither brother nor sisters for playmates, 98 A HAPPY BIRTHDAY. 99 her father and mother had given her as many pets as one small girl could well attend to. First in her affections among these came her two dogs, the big St. Bernard, Prince, and the little King Charles, Frisk, and these two seldom left her. Prince evidently felt responsible for her, and did not like to have her out of his sight, and Frisk needed so much pet- ting that he felt used hard- ly when he was kept out of the schoolroom every morn- ing until Milly's lessons were done. Then, besides the dogs, there were always two or three cats, and there was a rabbit-hutch full of rab- bits, and another hutch full of guinea-pigs ; so, you see, AI illy had her hands full, for it was her delight to feed and care for all these crea- tures herself. She allowed the gardener to help her if she needed help, as she sometimes did — when, for instance, the rabbits would insist upon burrowing out of MILLY, PRINCE, AND FRISK. IOO HOLIDAYS AT HOME. the hutch, and a fresh trench had to be dug around the walls of their castle and filled with coal-ashes; and she always consulted him and followed his advice if any of her family were ill, so that there was a great friendship between them, and the gardener, whose name was Peter, could always be trusted to feed and care for the animals if Milly were away. For caged birds she had never cared — it troubled her to see winged creatures shut in such narrow prisons and deprived of all their rights and privileges — but she had a large family of table-boarders in the way of birds who came every morning to a great fiat stone on the southern side of the house, knowing well that, no matter what the weather might be, they would find their table brushed clean and well supplied with grain and crumbs, and once a week a salad, for Milly had quite a large bed of chickweed under the flower-stands in the green-house, which was allowed to grow expressly for her pensioners, although Peter sometimes protested that it would be only fair to put up a sign explaining why it was there, as it was a great discredit to his tfardeningr Milly's first recollection of a birthday — and it was a very misty one — was connected with a box of o-ilt - and - white china, laree enough tor a tea-party of the most grown - up dolls, which her mother had spread on a small round table before Milly's wonder- ing eyes, and of a great tumbler of ice-cream which her father had set in the midst of the saucers, giving her a spoon to "help" it with. And there were saucers enough for her to share her birth- A HAPPY BIRTHDAY. IOI day-treat with her mother and father, her nurse and the cook and the housemaid and Peter. That was when she was four years old : now she was eight, and this birthday was to be celebrated in a new and delightful way. Milly's home was in a large town which was almost a city, but the house had plenty of ground around it, and although her mother and father sometimes took her in the summer to the seashore or the mountains, the house was never closed. But better than any new place did Milly love the old farm where her mother had once lived, and where two aunts and two uncles lived still. The lovely old-fashioned house stood within sound of the sea, and here Milly and her mother and father were going, as they did every summer, for a visit of several weeks. But this year the uncles and aunts had bested that the visit might beg-in with the birthday, and hinted at so many delightful ways of spending birthdays that Milly was on tiptoe with expectation, and stood at the gate for at least ten min- utes waiting for the large carriage which was to take them all to the farm. It came at last, and on so lovely a day the drive did not seem long, even to an impatient little person. Prince and Frisk had been included in the invitation, and Prince bounded along, now in front and now behind, while Frisk gave impatient little barks at being obliged to sit still in the carriage. The climbing rose which half covered the front of the farm-house was in fullest bloom, and Milly thought the old home had never looked so lovely as when the carriage drew up to the gate and she 102 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. sprang eagerly out. A very warm welcome awaited them, and then Milly could scarcely wait to be put into her clean gingham frock and white apron before she was let loose to explore the "THE CARRIAGE DREW UP TO THE GATE, AND SHE SPRANG EAGERLY OUT." place and see whether any changes had occurred since the year before. " Don't be gone too long," said Aunt Mary, smiling; " somebody is coming to spend the day. Just run and look at the new swing in the barn, and your seat among the hazel-bushes, and your 'Swiss Family Robinson ' apple tree, and by that time I think Hatty will K A HAPPY BIRTHDAY. IO3 be here. Nelly will come to tea, but she is going to school, you know, and couldn't come for the day." Hatty and Nelly were two pleasant little neighbors with whom Milly had played a great deal the summer before, and she clapped her hands with delight when she heard they were coming, exclaim- ing, " Oh, Aunt Mary, how very kind that was !" The " Swiss Family Robinson apple tree " was a tree with low- hanging, widespread boughs, in which Uncle George had built her a wonderful summer - house, large enough to hold five or six people : he had put a little table and six little chairs in it ; it had charming latticed windows which opened like shutters, and was reached by a sort of combined step- and - rope ladder which could be drawn up in case of siege. On many a wet day he had bundled Milly up in an old shawl and taken her for a visit to the apple-tree house, where certain dolls lived all the year round, and others for the summer only. Now, as her head rose above the ladder-stair, she saw a beautiful little basket on the table. It was twined with flowers, and a card was tied with blue ribbon to the handle ; and as Milly bent over it she saw it was full of large white eggs, and on the card was written in large round hand, " Milly," and underneath her name, "Old Mrs. Speckle humbly begs Vou will accept her freshest eggs." Milly clapped her hands delightedly. " Why, that's the poor old hen I fished out of the water-butt !" she said aloud. Taking the 104 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. pretty basket on her arm, she went carefully down the stairs and hurried to the barn. There hung the new swing, made of stout rope and with a sort of low chair for a seat. A bundle was tied to one arm of the chair, with another blue-ribboned card upon it, inscribed " Milly," and this time Milly read, " Your warm friend Rover begs that you'll adorn This hammock, where you'll never find a thorn." The hammock was long and strong and fine, made of prettily- colored sea-grass ; hooks were fitted into the ends, and Milly did not have to look far to find the rings and staples arranged for swingringr it. " He's given it to me because I pulled the thorn out of his foot," she said. " If s just like a fairy-story, and I'm going to pretend all day that it's perfectly true. I wonder what I'll find in the hazel- bush seat?" and she hurried off to see. The seat had been freshly painted and the bushes trimmed into a sort of arbor around it. Two mysterious-looking bundles lay on the seat — a round high one, and a long narrow one. The round one was opened first, and was found to contain two pasteboard boxes. The top box held one of the dainty little cream cheeses which Milly never saw anywhere except at Sweetbrier Farm ; and once more there was a verse : " Dear little Milly, you'll surely not Refuse this cheese from your grateful Spot ? 'ROVER AND DOUGLAS AND THE LAT AND THE KITTEN WATCHED HER" See Page 108 A HAPPY BIRTHDAY. IOJ You'll eat it soon, if you'll let me advise, Before it is carried off by the flies." " Why, Spot's the cow that I used to keep the flies off of at milking-time because she had a sore ear!" exclaimed Miily; "and oh, what's this ?" as she opened the second box. It was a beauti- ful frosted cake, with her name and the date in pink sugar, and eight candles, of different colors, arranged on the top, all ready for liehtine- This time there was no verse on the card ; it only said : "For our dear little Milly, with two heartsful of love, from Aunt Mary and Aunt Kitty." Milly was almost too much overcome to open the long parcel, but not quite ; and there lay a lovely wax-headed lady with long fair curls and tranquilly-closed eyes. Milly raised her gently, as if fearing to wake her, and the soft blue eyes flew open with so life- like an expression that Milly hugged her rapturously to her heart. Then she found a little note fastened to the pretty hand, and read : " Dear little mother, take me in : I will do my best your heart to win. I've the realest hair and a lasting bloom, And you'll find my trunk, with yours, in your room." And, sure enough, when Milly rushed up stairs to see, there was a miniature Saratoga trunk containing everything the heart of doll could wish ; and when she came quite to the bottom she found two visiting-cards : "Mr. George Loring" and "Mr. John Loring." '• I might have guessed that it was Uncle George and Uncle IOS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Jack," she cried rapturously. — "Oh, come with me right away, you beauty, till I thank them all." . If any stranger had been in the parlor, I am afraid he would have thought that a very crazy little girl lived in that house ; but, fortunately, nobody was there who did not know all about it. Milly's home-presents had been on the breakfast-table — a charming story-book and a beautifully-fitted work-box — and this shower of fairy-gifts had taken her entirely by surprise. When the excite- ment had subsided a little, Milly suddenly found herself very hungry, and remembered that she had not waited to eat much breakfast. But when she modestly asked for a roll, Aunt Mary said, smiling, " I think I remember Somebody used to have a great liking for Huldah's mush, and I have no doubt there will be enough left to fry for breakfast if you eat a bowlful now." So Milly ran into the kitchen, and Huldah poured rich milk over the steaming mush, and Milly made a table of the little bench which Huldah pulled out for her to sit on, but Rover and Doug- las and the black cat, and the small kitten who had not a name yet, all watched her so wistfully that she left half her generous portion to divide among them, although Huldah declared, indig- nantly, that they had all had as much breakfast as ever they could eat. And then little Hatty came, and the two children, after exchang- ing very loving greetings, wandered off hand in hand. There was so much to see and to do — ferns and flowers to gather to adorn mm m f '^\?' &< *W- the birthday tea-table, the beach to visit, the new swingf and hammock to try, the lovely waxen lady with her pretty wardrobe to be exhib- ited and admired — no wonder the time flew and both little maid- ens were surprised by the ringing J of the dinner-bell before anything had been done besides the visit to the barn and the longer visit to the doll and her trunk. " I shall call her Harriet Helen," said Milly as she and Nelly tripped « ^~*m r ifo '« 7/^K w ---^'v;?!^ fi^f-J: ' f. .,_' >f zif- J^. IIO HOLIDAYS AT HOME. down to dinner; and Hatty acknowledged her share of the honor with a very loving kiss. Dinner at Sweetbrier Farm took place at the good old-fashioned hour of one o'clock, so there was time for a little rest in the hazel bower before the walk to the beach ; and then the little maids started out once more, to return laden with treasures — maiden- hair fern, and great white daisies with golden hearts, and wild honeysuckle, and curious shells and stones picked up on the beach. And while they were adorning the table, which was set in the wide, vine-covered back piazza, Nelly came and helped and admired. Old Speckle's contribution to the feast was skilfully scrambled by Huldah ; the cream cheese and the pretty cake had each a wreath of ferns and daisies ; there was a great dish of early strawberries, coaxed into ripeness by the care of the two uncles for this won- derful day — such cream and milk and butter and sweet homemade bread and crisp lettuce and radishes as poor city people do not even dream of. And then, when the birthday-feast had been duly honored, the two uncles carried off the children to help them " call the cattle home ;" and Milly nearly jumped into the brook in her haste to reach old Spot, who stood on the other side with a nearly grown-up calf of her very own. ^ And then they wandered home in the soft summer twilight, and a great round moon came up from behind the hills and shone on the snowy fleeces of the sheep as they lay scattered over the tran- A HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I I I quil meadow. And when the little friends had said good-night, and gone home through the moonlit fields with their father, who had come for them, Milly said that she was so "tired with happiness" "OLD SPOT STOOD ON THE OTHER SIDE WITH HER CALF." that she would go to bed ; so, first undressing her new child, and then herself, she sank with a happy sigh into her white nest. But before she had even begun to go to sleep she heard under her window the tinkle of a guitar. I I 2 HO LID A YS A T HOME. "It's Uncle John !" she said, springing up and peeping from the window; "and oh, I haven't heard him play and sing for nearly a year, and I've never in my whole life been serenaded before !" But could that romantic-looking minstrel, in a Spanish-looking hat and cloak and with the ribbon of his euitar thrown over his shoulder, be quiet Unc'.e John? Milly doubted for a minute, but when the sweet tenor voice joined the accompaniment of the guitar she smiled to herself: " It is Uncle John ; he can't disguise his voice. And when he is done I will throw him a flower ; they always do that in stories." Perhaps it was not a usual selection for a serenade, but this was what the minstrel sang : " Sleep, baby, sleep I Thy father's watching the sheep, Thy mother's shaking the Dreamland tree, And down drops a little dream for thee : Sleep, baby, sleep ! " Sleep, baby, sleep ! The large stars are the sheep. The little stars are the lambs, I guess ; The bright moon is the shepherdess : t Sleep, baby, sleep ! " Sleep, baby, sleep ! And cry not like a sheep, Else the sheep-dog will bark and whine, And bite this naughty child of mine : Sleep, baby, sleep ! ii4 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. And as the last note died away a sweet white rose fell on the troubadour's guitar. He kissed his hand to his little lady, and she fell asleep with sweet fragments of his song drifting through her mind as the white clouds were drifting over the silver face of the moon. THE KING'S THREE SONS. T was a smiling and peaceful king- dom, truly, And the King of Gingal was every inch a king; So his sons, for wilfully breaking a law made newly, Were turned out of doors because they would not sing. After deep thought had this strange law been spoken, For deep in his heart the good of his people lay : By none who love me," he said, "will this law be broken ; Each of my subjects must sing at least once a day." Moodily strode the eldest son one morning Forth from the palace, angry and ashamed, Muttering, " I gave my royal father warning : I cannot help it; why should I be blamed? How can I sing, seeing, as I do daily, Right slain or wounded by the touch of wrong? The innocent suffer ; guilty ones go gayly ; My heart is all too hot and wroth for song." 115 I 1 6 HO LI DA YS A T HOME. On the next day went mournfully another, His gentle face marred by a look of sadness. " Alas !" he said, " I cannot blame my brother ; While pain has victims where is room for gladness In the dark forest found I, as I wandered, A wounded stag, a bird with broken wing : As on this helpless suffering I pondered, How thought my royal father I could sing?" On the third day a third son left the palace, And rushed to hide his anger in the wood. "This law," he said, "is nothing but sheer malice : Why am I never to be understood? When deep research and lofty thought enchain me, Shall I break off a foolish soncr to sing-? Surely this law was only framed to pain me : It was not well done of my lord the king." The eldest son, whom want or care had never Before come near, stood at a cottage-door Asking for shelter ; " And I will endeavor To work for you," he faltered. — " Say no more," The cotter cried : his voice was clear and ring-ine; He grave his hand with frank and smiling- erace. 'EACH OF MY SUBJECTS MUST SING AT LEAST ONCE A DAY." See Page us- THE KING'S THREE SONS. IIQ "At dusk," he said, "all comers find me singing It guides full many a wanderer to the place. "You wonder why I sing? You see the token That once I lived not humbly? It is true ; But from the life I thought for ever broken A higher, better life has sprung anew. •'HER BREAiT AGAINST A THORN, THE NIGHTINGALE." Here have I watched sweet growths from death upspringing : Hope is fulfilled, it may be soon or late. Good cause have I,' forsooth, my friend, for singing, For I have learned the lesson, Trust and Wait." The gentle boy, whom pity had so saddened, Sank down in weariness beneath an oak : 120 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. A gush of music near his whole heart gladdened, The while with tenderness it almost broke. "Ah, could I sing that song!" he murmured, seeking To find the singer of the enchanted vale. And he discovered, even as he was speaking, Her breast against a thorn, the nightingale. " I let the thorns that pierced me hush my singing," He said with shame ; and then the woods again With the full melody of the bird were ringing, Who used her pain to learn to comfort pain. " I will go back ; I have been weak, defying A law whose worth I did not understand. Now shall my father find, in my complying, That full obedience love should e'er command." The third son found no shelter ; in the forest, Stretched on dead leaves, he lay the whole night long, And when the darkness and the chill were sorest, The dawn broke, and he heard the lark's Mad songf. His dim eyes followed, up through the blue unbroken By cloud or mist, the singer in her flight, Until her glad song was the only token That she had reached that far, untroubled height. DEER IN THE FOREST. See Page 116. THE KING'S THREE SONS. I 23 And then the wayward prince upstarted, sobbing : " My father, it was I who did the wrong ! Selfishly have I lived, yet have been robbing Myself of joy in grudging thee the song." With hasty step he sought his home ; the others By different roads met him without the gate : Joyful the greeting was between the brothers, Who entered, singing, " It is not too late !" My little children, you whose lives of gladness, Unshadowed yet, make singing seem like speech, Treasure your songs up for the times of sadness Which on your way will surely come to each. It will be hard sometimes. We live forgetting, Too often, that we are children of a King : Life brings us toiling, mourning, waiting, fretting ; Out of it all look up, dear hearts, and sing ! TWO GOOD FRIENDS. "VES," purred the *- Black Cat, in a loud, musical purr, " her face, her sweet young face, is the very first thing which I distinctly remember, although, of rse, I must have seen oth- ngs first. I climbed in, great difficulty, over the r window, and there she te gown and with a bow oi blue ribbon in her soft brown hair. She had a great bunch of 124 TWO GOOD FRIENDS. 12' sewing in her lap, but she threw it down and picked me up, and cuddled me and loved me and talked to me, until I made up my mind that I would be civil to the rest, but would belong only to her. And 1 have done it ever since. They all like me — I hear something pleasant said about me every day by one or the other ^ A ^ r ^ ka ^ lA ^Q|I^M|ft4^*''; —IT, " Hr jA/'i M& liP_^^55s?^^^si,i. ; HpW^^Trt^^ y, > Wwffl f -^sg#i mm' - <>x '-Sljiidli 1 -T^^^^lil IBr^rf^L . ^P 1 1 jf JEjeH mr J& ^Mj$frilE& ^^^2^^Nf£^i ^trriTii^ii'niri^i fj^^V % IS Ib fla MK * ,= ^ ^^^% ^r«\^^^- i^j£^«T^ jJ»!^^ * ^ -_*Ss^?"^^^^ 'I HAVE A GOOD BED BY THE KITCHEN-FIRE. 1 ot them — but Clementine is the only one who tells me things when we are quite alone. It must have been in the summer, that first day that she picked me up. The trees were full of leaves, and the air was lull of birds, and the passion-vine was blooming all over the window. But winter is just as good. We have warm red curtains and cushions in winter, and beautiful bright fires which 126 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. heat one's back delightfully, and Clementine sits with me more in winter, especially in the evenings." " You have a very happy home, my dear," purred the White Cat gently — " far happier than I have ever had. They give me enough to eat at my house, and a good bed by the kitchen-fire, and they like to see me clean and neat, and they praise me whenever I catch a rat or mouse ; but nobody ever picks me up and cuddles me, and once, when I was feeling very lonely and jumped up in the house- keeper's lap, she held up both hands and stood up in a way which slid me off. I suppose I must have looked hurt — I felt so — for she said good-naturedly, ' There, Pussy, you're a good little cat, but your place is the floor. I can't have your hairs all over my gown ;' and then she turned to the housemaid, and said, ' I don't know why it is, but it always gives me a kind of cold creep down my back to touch a cat.' " I walked round behind her at once ; I didn't see anything of the cold creep, or I would have caught it for her ; but you may well believe that I have never sat on her lap since, and that I have hesi- tated about trying any one else." The White Cat, whose family had moved into the neighborhood recently, was taking tea with the Black Cat, whose family had lived for many, many years in the beautiful old gabled house among the trees. They were sitting in front of a cheerful fire, and it seemed to them all the cozier as they listened to the wind among the trees and the sleet dashing against the windows. The warm red cur- TWO GOOD FRIENDS. 127 tains were closely drawn. A softly burning lamp stood among many books on the little table, and on the red couch drawn up to one side of the fire lay Clementine asleep. "THEY WERE SITTING IN FRONT OF A CHEERFUL FIRE." " I'm afraid she isn't well," purred the Black Cat softly, and looking a little anxiously at the pretty sleeping face, which seemed flushed. " She would go out this afternoon in all the storm, because she had promised some things to some of her poor people. I wish you could have seen her when she came in : her cheeks were as red as roses, and the wind had pulled her hair all about her eyes. But she was all out of breath, and very wet indeed, and as she went to change her clothes and shoes, the housemaid — who is a careless young thing — stopped her to tell her about some sick person who had sent for beef-tea ; and she stopped to weigh the beef and measure the water; and when she came up to her room 128 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. at last her cheeks were quite white and she was shivering. If her mother had only been at home, she would have given Clementine some hot tea and made her go to bed ; but there was the bread- and - butter to cut, and the tea to pour out for her father and the children; so she ran down again when she had changed her clothes and shoes : she never seems to remember that she has a herself." " I think we grow like the people with whom we live," purred the White Cat. " 1 feel myself growing more reserved and quiet every day, although I try to be cheer- , l: ::' Wi M & ful and playful with my baby, for I don't wish her to grow up silent and sad. — But you have quite forgotten that I came over this evening ex- pressly to hear you tell about the flood, and how you saved Clementine's little brother." " Oh," purred the Black Cat modestly, " very probably the •'1 CARRIED HER TO THE SOFT MAT." baby WQuld ^g been savgd without me — no doubt some one would have seen the cradle. But tell me, first, about your baby : you know I haven't seen her yet. Don't they take any notice of her?" " About as much as they do of me," purred the White Cat sadly. " And I really made an effort for her sake — a very great effort for TWO GOOD FRIENDS. I 2Q me. I thought perhaps their hearts would be touched by her sweet little ways, so I carried her to the soft mat in front of the younger sister's door, and stood there till the door opened and she came out. She was not cross — she never is — but she called the house- maid and said, ' Carry the kitten back to its basket, Jane ; and if you see the cat bringing it here again, just shut them in the laun- dry, and leave a window open for the cat to go in and out.' That is what they all call me — ' the cat,' or ' Pussy,' or ' Kitty.' They have never even given me a name !" and the White Cat put her paw over her eyes for a minute. "That is hard," purred the Black Cat feelingly, " but perhaps they don't know any better. I always try to think that is the reason when people treat me as 1 don't like to be treated, for I am certain I have often annoyed others in that way myself." "Perhaps you are right," purred the White Cat, brightening up a little ; " I didn't think of that before. But now do tell me about the flood; I must be croing- soon : I haven't ever left mv babv this long before." "It was several years ago," purred the Black Cat thoughtfully — "I don't know just how many, for I never could learn to count, but I was not quite grown up. It rained for days and days, almost without stopping a minute, and one night, just before bedtime, Clementine's father came in and said, ' I don't like the look of the river; it is nearly up to the lower terrace, and rising rapidly.' " ' It came a little higher than that last spring, dear,' said Clem- 130 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. entine's mother, ' but it didn't do any damage, and we'll hope it will not this time.' "So they went to bed, but I did not. I had that uneasy feeling which comes over me when I am anywhere near where mice are hidden. They always left the doors of the rooms open at night, and after the lights were put out I just walked softly from room to room, so that I might be ready to wake them in case anything should happen. Several of the bedrooms were on the ground- floor — Clementine's, and her mother's and father's, and a little room between where the nurse and Baby slept. I heard the wa- ter running faster and faster, and at last, when I crossed the hall, I found the floor was wet, and there was a noise, as if people were knocking at the great front doors of the hall. I thought it was high time to wake my people up, and that I had better wake the father first, because he was the oldest and strongest, and would know best what to do. " But before I could get out of the hall the front and back doors burst open at once with a noise like loud thunder; the water rushed in as if the whole river were coming, and I was lifted off my feet as if I had been a feather and swept out of the front door. I managed to seize a chair and cling desperately to it, and I had only floated along for a few minutes when I heard the baby cry. It was not very dark, for there was a large moon behind the clouds, and it had stopped raining ; so in a few minutes I could see the cradle quite plainly. It was floating very nicely, just like a boat, TWO GOOD FRIENDS. 1 33 and I decided at once that it was my duty to join the baby ; he mi«ht stop crying, and then float silently away before any one knew where he was. I could easily have jumped to the cradle, but I was afraid that my weight, added so suddenly, might make it rock, and so fill it ; so I left my chair, and with great difficulty struggled through the water and climbed carefully in over the foot-board. And, sure enough, the baby did stop crying in a few minutes, and went to sleep. I don't know how many hours it was before they found us. We had floated quite away from our home, and I knew by the barns and stacks that we must be in a farmyard, but I could not see any one anywhere, and so I kept quiet, saving up all my mews till I should have a chance to make some one hear. " I did not have to wait much longer. The baby waked and lay quite still, playing with his fingers and staring about with great, wondering eyes. And then I saw a boat away off, around the corner of a barn, and I knew my time had come to mew. I don't think I ever made such a noise in my life as I did then — no, not even on the few occasions when my tail had been stepped upon. And they heard me ; I soon saw the boat turn and come toward us, and then 1 saw that the two people in it were Baby's mother and father. The poor mother sat with clasped hands as the father poled the boat along with all his might, and in a few minutes they had come up close to the cradle and lifted out their baby, and me too. Then they tied the cradle to the end of the boat, and we all went to a house where the water had not come in, and stayed till 134 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. the river went down and our own house was dry and clean once more ; and it was after this that the father had that beautiful broad- topped wall, where you and I so often meet, built all along the front of our place, and banked up behind with earth almost to the top." "That was very interesting," purred the White Cat as the Black Cat stopped. " No wonder they all love you and make so much of you. I wish such an opportunity would come to me ; it might change everything. But I really must go now : I had no idea of staying so late, and I don't know what might happen if my baby were to cry much : they might give her away to somebody. Good- night, and thank you for a very pleasant evening ;" and the White Cat was gone. The Black Cat turned and looked at Clementine. " Her cheeks are as red as they were when she came in this afternoon," she purred, " so perhaps she will not be ill, after all." It was a bright afternoon nearly a week after this pleasant even- ing, and the Black Cat was sitting on top of the wall in the sun ; but she looked very serious, and took no notice of the dead leaves which blew about, nor of the birds which hopped along the bank looking for worms ; she did not even see that the White Cat was coming until their noses almost touched, and then she started up, exclaiming, " Bless me ! how you made me jump !" " I beg your pardon," purred the White Cat meekly, " but I TWO GOOD FRIENDS. 1 35 thought you must see me. I'm afraid something is the matter, you look so sad." "There is, indeed," purred the Black Cat. "Clementine is ill, very ill. It began that evening you took tea with me, as, you know, we feared that it would ; and now she has something with a hard name : I couldn't quite make it out, although I heard the doctor tell her mother, but I am pretty sure he said it was some- thing 'new.' I sat outside the door listening until I found that I was in the way, and her breathing sounded like mine did once when they accidentally put a feather bed on top of me. They sent for her mother right away, and everybody is keeping very still ; even the baby does not scream when he is washed, and I heard him saying to himself, ' Poor Tiny !' It went to my very heart." And the Black Cat covered her eyes with her paw. " Don't give way, my dear friend," purred the White Cat, sooth- ingly. " Clementine is very young, and I think that helps people to get well. And our Miss Abigail was ill for weeks, and they all cried and said she couldn't get well, possibly ; but I do believe she is stronger now than the other two. And, somehow, it seems to me that the way you all love Clementine will keep her from dying." "You are a real comforter," purred the Black Cat, bracing up, "and I will try to feel more hopeful. But what has made you so much brighter ? You look like another cat." "And I feel like one," purred the White Cat cheerfully. "Since 136 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. I saw you last a little child has come to live with us, and you can't imagine the difference it has made already. She is a timid little thing, and at first the great silent house and the quiet old ladies made her look just as I felt ; so 1 thought perhaps it would cheer her up a little if she could see my baby ; she looked so quiet and gentle that I was not afraid to trust her. She had been sent out to play in the yard, and the cook — who is always afraid we will not get enough to eat — called her in and gave her a nice bowl of bread and cream. I waited till she had finished it, for I did not wish her to think that I was beggrinor anc l then I came and told her about the kitten. She was a =- '■ z ^~ ^J- -Z^%^- l vr'' l, v ' v-'l ■-/• \, ft A COUNTRY MONTH. AIR. and Mrs. Holman, and Ce- -'-*■ cil and Agnes, were sitting at breakfast in a cheerful, pleasant breakfast- room. The postman had just rung the bell and left several letters, and Mrs. Holman was reading one. It must have had something pleasant in it, for she smiled several times as she read it, until the children, both at once, burst out, "What is it, mam- ma ? Read it aloud, please." But she kept quietly on to the end, as if she had not heard them, and when she had finished she turned to their father, saying quite gravely, though a smile lurked in her eyes and in the corners of her mouth, " Don't you think, papa, that Agnes and Cecil are look- ing a little pale and thin ?" Mr. Holman looked at his children anxiously, but not even the most anxious parent could have seen anything but health and 202 'THAT LOVELY BATH IN THE WATER-BUTT WAS TOO COLD FOR HER." See Page 206. A COUNTRY MONTH. 205 strength in the two rosy faces which shone above two large bowls of porridge and milk. " Why no, dear," he said, " I can't say that I do ; what put such an idea into your head ?" " Well," said Mrs. Holman, twisting the letter in her fingers, " it occurred to me that they had both done very well at school this last term, and that they needed a little change of air and scene." "Oh, I know what it is," exclaimed Agnes joyfully: "we're invited to Aunt and Uncle Pennell's ; they said we must come in the holidays. — You'll let us go, mamma ; you will, won't you ?" "It's a clear case of mind-reading," said Mr. Holman, as he saw by his wife's smile that Agnes had guessed right. " You'll have to stop thinking when these children are about, mamma." Aunt and Uncle Pennell lived on a large farm in a wild, beautiful part of Pennsylvania, and they contended that the scenery by which they were surrounded quite made up to them for the hilliness and stoniness of their farm. They had no children, and the delight was always mutual when Agnes and Cecil visited them. A joyful note of preparation sounded through the house. Uncle Pennell had written that he would have business in town the next day but one after his letter reached them, and that he hoped the children would be ready to return with him. So, while Mrs. Hol- man packed such trifling matters as clothes and shoes, Cecil and Agnes attended to fishing-lines and landing-nets and their new croquet set and a large family of dolls — so large that all could not 2C>6 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. go, and a heartrending choice must be made — half to go and half to stay. " I suppose you'll take that gorgeous thing you got last Christ- mas ?" said Cecil, who tolerated dolls, and even made furniture, because, as he said, " Agnes is jolly good company in all the games I like ; so of course I'm civil to her dolls, though I can't see much sense in them." " No," said Agnes, thoughtfully. " Lady Geraldine is looking very well ; and besides, I don't believe the sun would be good for her complexion : we shall be out of doors most of the time, you know. I am picking out the ones who haven't been well. There is poor Clarissa, who has never seemed quite the same since I gave her that lovely bath in the water-butt ; it was too cold for her, I'm afraid. She's the worst of all, but there are five more who haven't looked well lately, so I shall take those six." " You wouldn't look well yourself," said Cecil, " if somebody'd knocked your nose off, or let half the stuffing out of you, or pulled all your hair off, or sewed your arms on hind-part before, or lost one of your legs." " I have hopes of all of them except poor Berengaria," said Agnes sadly : " I don't see how anything can be done for her nose. But perhaps Aunt Lucy will ; she's a wonderful person to think of things. Perhaps it is because she has such nice quiet times to think in." "She will not have them much longer," said Cecil, laughing, "but A COUNTRY MONTH. 207 then I don't think she minds a good noise any more than mamma does." The journey to the Hill Farm was a long and somewhat tedious "THE COWS STOOD KNEE-DEEP IN THE LITTLE RIVER." one, but it did not seem so to the eager children, who had been shut up in a city for nearly a year, and to whom everything they 208 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. saw and heard was delightful. The large " express-wagon," with all the curtains rolled up, was waiting for them at the station, and they drove through the fields in the soft twilight, the narrow road winding away up a long hill upon the side of which the large old- fashioned house was built. The cows had been milked and turned out to pasture again, and were standing about, some on the soft grass, and some knee-deep in the little river which ran through the pasture-land. A few late bird-notes came from the woods, and everything was so lovely that they would have been sorry that the drive should come to an end if it had not been for Aunt Lucy's kind welcoming face in the doorway. They found they were more tired than they imagined, and after the good country supper was disposed of they were very glad to go to the little white -bed, smelling of lavender, which Aunt Lucy's loving hands had made ready for them ; but they begged that they might be called "the first thing" in the morning, there was so much to see and to do. Their uncle had told them that the wheat- harvest was to begin the next day, and both of them expected to be very busy — Agnes with helping Aunt Lucy in her preparations for the grand harvest-home supper which always was held in the great barn as soon as the harvesting was done. But the men with their wheat-cradles and the women who fol- lowed them to bind the sheaves had been in the wheatfield for an hour or two the next morning before the tired children woke. Aunt Lucy had gone to call them, but they were sleeping so A COUNTRY MONTH. 209 soundly that, as she said to Uncle John, she " hadn't the heart to wake them till they'd had their sleep out ;" so she saved them some breakfast, and laughed at their reproaches when they came down, toward eight o'clock, thoroughly rested and ready for anything. There was only one drawback to Agnes's enjoyment when she \- v- stayed at Hill Farm : she was terribly afraid of ft 1? *X '~ v # 4|'| \ cows. In vain Cecil, ^ffll OIK \ , ■ , , ■ A , who was not airaid 01 anything, fed a and caressed the pretty, gentle crea- tures at milk- ing-time ; Ag- nes always preferred to be on the n-^Mti&c yi^ "CECIL FED THE COWS OUT OF HIS HAND." * other side of the fence while this operation was being £*""* performed. "I know all about it, Cecil," she would say. "They look as gentle as dear little lambs while they are eating things out of your hand in that way, and while Nanny is milking them, but nobody can tell what they are thinking about : they may be in- tending to spear you with their horns the very next minute ; and 14 2IO HOLIDAYS AT HOME. when they have you between them and the fence they make most dreadful faces at you with their great eyes." And nothing that Cecil could say gave Agnes any confidence in cows. While they were still lingering over their saved breakfast, dis- cussing the cow question, Uncle John came in from the harvest- field warm and thirsty, and very glad to find Aunt Lucy's bright pail of raspberry vinegar, with a lump of ice floating in it and a new tin dipper tied to the pail, waiting in the back porch to be carried to the field. "That's good!" he said as he emptied the dipper. "I never found a drink yet, Lucy, that I liked better than this of a hot day. I wonder if there's a smart boy of nine or ten anywhere around here who'd like a job for the morning?" he added, turning with a smile to the children. " Here's one, sir, all ready for anything," said Cecil, jump- ing up. " Well, then, ask Aunt Lucy for a basket, and come with me to the orchard," said Uncle John. "There's a tree full of harvest apples there spoiling to be picked, and the men would think I was crazy if I took one of them from the wheat-cutting such weather as this. We'll pick them on shares : you keep count of your baskets, and I'll send you down half what you've picked in winter apples this fall, for these will have to go to market right off. They don't keep long, but they sell like hot cakes. How will that suit you ?" A COUNTRY MONTH. 21 I "Splendidly!" said Cecil, joyfully. — "Just think, Agnes, of having ever so many ap- ples all our own, in the fall ! We can take some to every- body at school for days and days." So Cecil went joyfully with his uncle to the orchard, and spent a busy morning among the harvest apples, while Ag- nes followed Aunt Lucy from the great airy kitchen, with its painted floor and raftered ceiling, to the delightfully cool dairy and cellars, helping with whatever willing little hands could do, and looking on ad- miringly when she could not help. But Aunt Lucy did not mean her little girl to spend the whole of that bright day in the house; so after dinner, when a light breeze sprang up and some white clouds came skimming across the sun, she said to her, " You've done all you can now, little 212 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. maid, and I want you to put on your hat and go down the lane to the spring-house — it's shady nearly all the way — and where the spring comes out from the rocks, just above the house, you'll find such a tangle of ferns and wild roses and honeysuckle as you haven't seen since the last time you were here ; and I want enough to fill the big brown pitcher. Your uncle loves to see flowers on the tea- table, and I always pick them for him when I have time, but I thought perhaps you'd take that much of the housekeeping off my hands while you're here." " Oh, aunty, that will be delightful !" said Agnes eagerly, " there are such heaps of flowers about here ! I'll go right away, and do you want me to hurry back ?" " No, dear ; stay as long as you please, and go on to the orchard and harvest-field if you like," replied Aunt Lucy, smiling. " You'll hear the horn at half-past five, and that will be time enough for you to come back. You can arrange them while you're out there, and then it'll not take a minute to put them in the pitcher." It was a very happy little girl who went wandering down the green, shady lane which led to the spring-house, singing little snatches of song and thinking what a letter full of things she already had to write to her mother. And her happiness rose to rapture when she found the tangle of sweet things of which her aunt had told her. She sat with her hands clasped, feeling as if it would be too bad to spoil the beauty of the little nook by picking anything ; and she had nearly fallen asleep in the sweet, warm, A COUNTRY MONTH. 213 drowsy air when somebody suddenly said, " Boo !" close by her ear, and she sprang up, startled, to see her uncle's laughing face peeping at her through an opening in the honeysuckle vines. "SHE WAS STARTLED AT SEEING HER UNCLE'S FACE." "And what are you doing here, I should like to know," said Uncle John, " falling asleep among the leaves, like a babe in the woods ?" •' I came to pick some flowers for aunty, Uncle John," answered Agnes, quite awake now and making a vigorous attack upon the honeysuckle ; " but everything looked so lovely that it almost 2 14 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. seemed as if I oughtn't to, and I didn't know I was asleep at all till you ' boo'd ' at me. You oughtn't to do such things, dear: don't you know that when people are very badly frightened their hair sometimes turns perfectly white right away?" " I never thought of that," said Uncle John gravely, " but I'll try and remember it the next time. You leave your posies here in the spring, Pussy, and come with me to the harvest-field. I've some- thing to show you, and I was coming to the house to call you when I spied you here. We'll call Cecil as we go by the orchard ; he's dreadfully busy, but perhaps he can spare himself for five minutes." So Agnes put her bunch of honeysuckle carefully in a little basin on one side of the stream, and skipped along by Uncle John's side, helping him give a loud " halloo " to Cecil as they passed the orchard. They found quite an excitement when they came to the harvest-field. The woman who lived in the tenant-house was there, with her baby in her arms and another clinging to her skirts, and several of the laborers' children were there too ; and the oldest reaper pointed the children to a beautiful little nest on the ground, right in the midst of the great wheatfield, with three white eggs in it. Cecil came running up, and he and Agnes bent over the nest, thinking it the prettiest thing they had ever seen. " But where is the mother-bird?" asked Agnes. "She ought to be here taking care of her eggs." " She was scared away hours ago, my dear," said the man. " It's a lark's nest ; they always build on the ground, poor foolish things ! A COUNTRY MONTH. 215 "ONE OF THE MEN POINTED TO A NEST ON THE GROUND." and I doubt if she ever comes back : they're easily frightened oft. It won't do to leave the nest here — it would be sure to be tramped 2l6 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. on — but you might take it up carefully and put it in the fence- corner, and if she's coming back she'll find it after we've gone this evening and everything's quiet." So Agnes and Cecil carefully lifted the pretty nest and put it safely in the fence-corner, but the mother-lark never came back to it : she had been too badly frightened ; so, after waiting two or three days to make sure, the children brought the nest to the house and Uncle John showed them how to " blow " the eggs. The nest would be a great ornament for their cabinet next winter. It was not until Agnes was in bed that evening, and just falling into a delightful sleep, that she remembered her unfortunate chil- dren, brought to the country for their health and then left for a whole night and day packed in a dismal trunk. But sleep was too strong for her ; she only had time to murmur to herself, " I'll beg all their pardons to-morrow," and then she knew nothing more till mornincr And lo and behold! when she waked with the sunshine stream- ing into her room, and feeling as if she had been roused by some- body's laughing, there sat the whole six, in chairs adapted to their various sizes, by her bed, and she pinched herself to see if she were dreaming. Then she saw that Berengaria was proudly holding aloft a perfectly-restored nose, and was once more the elegant and gracious lady who had come to delight Agnes's heart the previous Christmas ; and she saw that the chairs were ingeniously made of slender cornstalks, bound together with packthread, and that in the A COUNTRY MONTH. 217 lap of the black Dinah, who had been brought on account of her missing leg, lay a very funny cornhusk baby. Agnes felt as if she could scarcely wait to wash and dress, she was in such a hurry to get down stairs and solve the mystery. It ^fe-t^ "SHE FOUND THE TENANT'S DAUGHTER ON HER KNEES BEFORE BERENGAvRIA^" was easily solved. Aunt Lucy had found the neglected children when she unpacked Agnes's trunk and put her clothes in bureau and closet, and she had mended Berengaria's nose with some wax left from making wax flowers, and put a delicate coat of paint on 2l8 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. it, the evening before after Agnes was in bed, while Uncle John made the cornstalk chairs and the cornhusk baby. " I think I'll take Berengaria out in the little grove and seat her under a pine tree as long as the weather is good, aunty," said Agnes after breakfast. " I've heard mamma say there's nothing so restoring as pine-air." So the invalid was dressed in her walking-suit and new summer hat, and seated on a soft cushion of moss against a fallen pine tree to recover her strength, while her thoughtful mother went to the raspberry-patch to help Aunt Lucy pick raspberries, both., for tea that evening and for jam to-morrow. ' And when Agnes went, just before dinner, to bring her child home, she found the tenant's little daughter — whom she had seen in the hayfield the day before — on her knees before the. beautiful stranger in rapt admiration. She was holding by the arm a doll made out of a round white radish, of great size for a radish : this was the head ; the body and arms were merely two sticks lashed together at right angles ; and this very primitive doll had on for her sole garment an equally primitive calico frock, which had a good deal more pinning and tying than sewing about it. Little Sally's admiration for the city lady was so sincere, and at the same time so free of envy or of dislike to her own home- made doll, that Agnes resolved, if Aunt Lucy would help her — and of course she would — to make and dress a good large "rag- doll," neatly shaped and with a face painted, instead of cut in gashes. This was successfully done before Agnes went home, and her hap- piest recollection of that overfiow- ingly happy visit was the beaming face of little Sally as she clasped her new treasure to her heart and promised to " be the very best mother in all the world to her, and to name her Atmes." Aunt Lucy had known Sally ever since she was a baby; she knew her to be a gentle and well-behaved little girl, and so she was very glad for Agnes to have some or 2 20 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. near her own age for a playmate. Hand in hand the two little girls wandered about the place when Agnes was not busy "help- ing" — from the old-fashioned kitchen-garden, where wall-fruit and vegetables and beds of sweet herbs grew, through the arch to the large front yard, where nothing was permitted to grow but grass and trees and ornamental shrubs, with one large bed of bright flowers in the middle of the lawn. Agnes rather pitied Cecil because he had not found a friend too, but he told her she needn't be uneasy — that everybody was his friend, from Aunt Lucy down to Jet, the beautiful black setter. Jet was a rather reserved dog, devoted to his master and mistress, and to Joe, the faithful "head- man," who stayed at the farm the year round. " You and little Miss Agnes ought to feel very proud that Jet's taken to you so, Master Cecil," said Joe gravely. He was taking his " noon-spell " on a shady bank, with Jet at his feet, and, having finished his dinner, was whittling out for Cecil one of the willow whistles for which he was justly famous. "Jet's a little like me," continued Joe; "he don't take up with everybody that comes along before he sees what they're like ; but once let him settle in his mind that he'll be friends with any one, and he is friends for all time ;" and Joe tested his whistle with a long, shrill blast that made Jet start to his feet in astonishment. The harvesting was finished, and the lon^ table, made of trestles and boards, was spread in the orcharJ for the harvest-home supper. And what a merry supper it was ! Aunt Lucy's gentle face at the "JOE WAS WHITTING OUT A WILLOW WHISTLE FOR CECIL." See Pa E e 220 A COUNTRY MONTH. head of the table kept the merriment within pleasant bounds ; and Uncle John told stories ; and Joe, after a great deal of persuasion, sang a song; and Cecil, by special request, recited "Marco Boz- zaris " with appropriate gestures, that being his last declamation before he left school. 1 he great moon was rising behind the trees before the company rose from the table, and they had hardly sep- arated before Joe came to the front porch — where Aunt Lucy and Uncle John and the children had seated themselves to enjoy the moonlight for a while before going to bed — in a great state of excitement, to say that a herd of deer was coming down the hill to the pond in the newly-cleared ground just above the house, and that if the children would come with him very softly along the edge of the wood, they might perhaps get a sight of them, as the wind was blowing- toward the wood, and so the deer would not scent them. The children had often heard that there were deer in the tract of wild land on top of the hill, but they had never had the good luck to see them, and they sprang up in great delight and followed Joe to the edge of the wood, stealing along in the moon- light like conspirators bent on mischief. They hid themselves behind a clump of bushes, through which they could peep, and had only waited a few minutes when the herd went softly stepping past.. Two beautiful fawns, a little more than half grown, came first, then the doe, and last, like the rear-guard of an army, a stag with mag- nificent branching antlers. Although Joe and the children stood perfectly still, almost holding their breath as the deer passed, the 224- HOLIDAYS AT HOME. pretty creatures seemed to have an instinctive feeling that their solitude was invaded. They turned their heads toward the thicket. sniffing the air with a distrust- ful, startled ex- pression, but they did not run ; and when they had passed out of sight Agnes said softly, " Let us go home very quietly, or they'll be scared away before they have had their drink." The children never forgot the beautiful moon- lit picture which the deer had made. 'TWO FAWNS, THEN THE DOE, AND THEN THE STAG.' " I have ever so many lovely things hung up in my head to keep looking at after I go home, Aunt Lucy," said Agnes the next day when she was describing the herd of deer to her aunt and trying to A COUNTRY MONTH. 225 make her understand that the moonlight made them look like "fairy deer." After the harvest was over there was time for a day's fishing, "AN OLD MILL WHICH WAS FAST TURNING INTO A PICTURESQUE RUIN." which had been postponed because " it would keep " and the fun and festivities of harvest would not. It was to be a picnic as well as a fishing-excursion, and Aunt Lucy and Uncle John had prom- ised to give up a whole day to it. Beef was roasted, and eggs 15 2 26 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. were boiled, and cake was made, the day before, and Joe brought in a great basketful of raspberries while they were at breakfast. Four or five miles higher up the hill — which, if it had stood alone instead of in a chain, would have been called a very respectable mountain — was an old mill which had not been running for several years, and which was fast turning into a very picturesque ruin. It had been stopped by a singular accident, and one at which the miller had grumbled more than a little. A tunnel had been cut through the hill, and, as the miller said, had " knocked the bottom out of the springs " which had fed his mill-stream. There was still a tiny stream, except in very dry weather, and a pretty pond was left, having been, fortunately, in a sort of natural basin a little to one side of the tunnel. Behind the mill was a grove of beautiful oak and hickory trees, with short, velvety grass growing under- neath them ; and it was here that Aunt Lucy settled herself with a new book and her knitting while Uncle John went with the chil- dren to the deepest side of the pond and helped them fish. They caught enough perch and sunfish to make a tempting hot dish to add to the cold dinner, and Uncle John showed them how to wrap the fish in leaves and roast them in hot ashes. It was a long, happy day, and to the little city children the perfect stillness and remoteness of the place formed its chief beauty. Sitting in the grove and looking down the hill, not a single house was in sight, and, as Cecil said, it seemed as if they were " thousands of miles away from everywhere." They had brought little Sally with them, A COUNTRY MONTH. ;27 and after dinner was over and the baskets repacked they wandered through the old mill, playing " Hide and Seek," and " Follow my Leader." Uncle [ohn made the best " leader ;" he did nothing which the children found it impossible to follow, but he went from one thing to another with such quickness and agility that the chil- "A FROG HAD FALLEN INTO THE CLUTCHES OF A WHITE GOOSE." dren had brisk work to follow him. When they were quite tired out thev rested on the bank, watching a flock of gfeese and ducks that were paddling in the pond. An unwary frog had fallen into the clutches of the largest white goose, and the rest of the flock had determined to share the prize. The white goose was equally determined to keep it for herself, and she very nearly choked as 15 2 28 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. she paddled off, swallowing the poor frog with all her might while she tried to keep ahead of the others. " If it was anybody but a goose," said Agnes indignantly, " she'd be ashamed to be so selfish and greedy." Uncle John laughed a little. " That's a good thing to remem- ber," he said. They stayed till dusk, eating supper while it was still broad day- light, and winding slowly down the hill just as the sun had set and while the sky was still beautiful with the "after-glow." The moon rose just before they reached home. Aunt Lucy had been per- suaded to sing, the rest joined in whenever they knew the tunes and Joe told them, as he helped them out of the wagon, that it was "as good as a concert." To the children it was better than the best concert they had ever heard. The happy days flew by, full of different plans and occupations. Mr. and Mrs. Holman were coming for the last half of the month, and after they arrived there were daily walks and drives, and more picnics, and another fishing-party to a " real " trout-stream on one of the other hills, where the streams had not had " the bottom knocked out of them." It was hard work to leave the lovely Hill Farm, even with the hope of returning next year and of the winter visit from Uncle John and Aunt Lucy in the interval. Mr. Holman was so touched by the sorrow of his children at being obliged to return to the crowded city that he promised solemnly that the minute he owned A COUNTRY MONTH. 229 a million dollars he would buy a whole mountain as near the Hill Farm as he could find one for sale, build a palatial mansion on it, take lessons in farming, and move everything and everybody belonging to him up there "for good." "Ah, papa," said Agnes mournfully when this brilliant plan had been fully discussed, " do you know what Joe used to say when we believed ' as many as six impossible things before breakfast ' ? He used to say, ' When the sky falls we shall catch larks ;' and I'm afraid this beautiful fairy lark won't be caught till the sky falls." OLD NURSE. H, there's plenty of fun in summer, As long as the long days last, And when they are at the longest They only go too fast. We wade in the brook together, We scatter the new-mown hay, And yet we are never sorry When there comes a rainy day. The clouds bring rain to the flowers, But they do not bring us gloom, For we run between the showers, To old Nurse's house and room. She sits there all day spinning, But her wheel forgets to whirl As she tells us tales beginning, "When I was a little girl." 23d Sometimes she tells of the " good folk," Who, ever so long ago, OLD NURSE. Were alive in her dear old Ireland, And helped good people so; And sometimes of the famine; And no matter how hard we try "SOMETIMES SHE TELLS OF THE 'GOOD FOLKS.' To help it, the things she tell us Of the famine make us cry. To think of the little babies, So innocent and sweet, HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Dying slowly, only just because There was not enough to eat ! I do not like rice-pudding, But I've eaten it since she told Of those hapless people in Ireland Pinched with hunger and cold. When our wading makes us hungry- We are not hard to make — We run to Nurse, and beg- her For some of her oatmeal cake : That always seems to please her, And she gives us, too, "a sup," As she says, of buttermilk with it, In a queer old earthen cup. So we're never tired of watching Her wheel as she makes it whirl, Nor of the tales beginning, "When I was a little girl." And we love to hear her tell us, " When I see my lassies thrive And grow so bright and winsome, It keeps my heart alive." FATHER CHRISTMAS. w HEN grandpa came to live with us we were all very glad, for we had never had enough of him when he only came for visits or when we went to visit him ; and we all of us, down to the baby, who doesn't at all like to be called " the baby," and says her name is Paulina, helped to make his room look pretty. Ailie and the little boys and Bertha and. May and I brought some of our treasures to put on the wall-cabinet, and Paulina — whom we call Polly when we don't call her "the baby " — brought an old wreath of green leaves out of mamma's done-with bonnet. Polly had been wearing it all day, and was very proud of it, and' she said she was going to " div it to dranpa " because it was the- best thin? she had. So mamma would not let us lauodi at her,, and put the wreath on the bureau, where grandpa would be sure to see it. He came in the morning, while we were in the school-room saying our lessons to Ailie. She has school for us every day,, and mamma says that as long as we behave for her and really learm our lessons we need not go to a real school, though Ailie says that is 2.".3 234 HOLIDA YS A T HOME. not a compliment to her, and that if six scholars and a teacher don't make a school, she'd like to know what does. It was a very cold day the day grandpa came, and mamma and Ailie had been busy up to the day before making him a beautiful new wrapper of some thick, soft, warm stuff all trimmed with fur. When school was out we all rushed to the library to see if grandpa was there, and before we could draw the curtains he must have heard us, for he pushed them open and stood there laughing, with his new wrap- per on and Polly's wreath on his head. How we all laughed and shouted, and how he hugged and kissed us ! All of a sudden Ailie said, "Grandpa, what a magnificent Kriss- Kringle you'd make, just as you are ! Your name ought to be ' Father Christmas,' instead of Grandfather Hamilton." So then we all shouted, " Father Christmas ! Father Christmas !" until mamma came to see what was the matter, and said that if we made such a dreadful noise grandpa would go straight away again. But he only laughed and said, " Not while it's a good-humored noise, Polly my dear." For he calls mamma "Polly," and it always sounds so funny to us — as if mamma were only a little girl ! When we were quiet again, grandpa said, " If I am Father Christmas, I think I have a right to say a little about my festival, but I will not say it now. I will only tell all these people who have given me my new name that they may have to pay for it before Christmas comes." ■GRANDPA STOOD THERE ... WITH POLLY'S WREATH ON HIS HEAD." See Page 234. FATHER CHRISTMAS. 237 We were not very much afraid, and we told him so, but he laughed and shook his head at us, and told us just to wait. Two or three days afterward, when we came to tea, we each found a note on our plate, and on it was printed, after our names, "To be opened when you are quite alone." We could scarcely eat our suppers, we were in such a hurry to read the notes and to see what it was that made them so heavy. I can't tell you what was in the others, except by guessing, but this was in mine : " Will my little Lou try, between this and Christ- mas, to overcome, with the dear Lord's help, the temper which gives mamma and herself so much pain ? That will be a most joy- ful present for mamma. For others spend thoughtfully what you find herein, and make it give as much pleasure as it can." And out of the envelope, as I opened it, had fallen a brand-new, shiny five-dollar gold-piece. I cried a little at first. I knew I had a bad temper, but, some- how, I always made myself believe that anybody would have got angry about the things that made me " fly out," and I felt dread- fully ashamed to think that grandpa should have found out about me so soon ; and then I began to think : " If I am ashamed for grandpa to know it, how can I bear to remember that the dear Lord knows it all the time ?" I began to try that very day harder than I had ever tried before to overcome my temper; and although it often seems to me that I grow worse, instead of better, mamma says that that is because I watch myself so much more closely 2^8 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. now than I ever did before. She always has something encourag- ing to say. I thought I had better tell her about my money ; and I think the rest must have done it too, from what I saw afterward. You see, I could not make up my mind whether I had better count my people and divide it equally, and buy each one a little present out and out, or whether I had better buy worsteds and silks and things and make such of my presents as I could : there was still plenty of time before Christmas. So mamma said that if I could think of nice things to make my money would go a great deal further, and she thought of several things, and went with me to buy the materials ; so that, with what I bought and what I made, I had ten presents to give away that Christmas — more than I had ever had before. Fred can cut out animals and birds and dolls very nicely, and I soon found that he had plenty of nice thick bristol-board and some new paints ; and in the evening, after Bertha and May, Polly and Will, had gone to bed, mamma let him stay up half an hour longer, and he made all the animals for two Noah's arks and beautiful dolls for Bertha and May and Polly. I don't know how or when he managed it, but he made something for nearly all of us — he can draw and paint and cut out so nicely — and that left him enough money to get a beautiful present for mamma. We never had such a nice Christmas before. It would take too long-- to tell about the different things we made, but I must tell how we begged grandpa on Christmas Day to put on his fur-trimmed wrapper, and we FA THER CHRISTMAS. 239 crowned him with a wreath of laurel and holly-berries — holly would have been prettier, but we were afraid it would stick his head — and 1 FRED CAN CUT OUT ANIMALS VERY NICELY.' he sat at the head of the table in the great chair which mamma and papa had given him, with a beautiful "tidy" on its back which 240 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. one of us had made, and a beautiful footstool which another of us had worked. It was a lovely Christmas altogether. I am afraid that before that Christmas we had always thought more of what people would give us than what we should give them, and now we had been so busy planning and making things that when our presents came they were almost like a surprise. And the only thing that any of us could possibly think of to be sorry about was that grandpa had not been with us always ; but he would not let us say that ; he said he would give us instead his favorite quotation: ' Look not mournfully into the past ; it comes not back again : wisely improve the present ; it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart." THE BABES IN THE WOOD. kJSx k R. BUNNY and his wife and their family of eight children were most comfortably lodged and boarded. They had a large, pleasant hutch, with a house for rainy weather and plenty of burrowing-ground for clear days. Their little master never neglected or lorgot them ; there was always plenty of iood, both green and dry, in the trough and in the rack, and the earthen pan was filled twice a day with clean water. When they had first come to live in the hutch, before any of their children were born, they had been fright- ened and uneasy, and had tried to scratch a hole and make their way out; but they found, on whichever side they began to dig, unpleasant coal-ashes and hard wooden: stakes, whereas when they dug in the middle of the hutch there was only nice soft earth ; so, as they found that they were well fed 1 and cared for, they soon contented themselves with making burrows- where the earth was soft, and before long- had a fine range of cellars : J: 16 241 242 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. under the whole length of the hutch. And as soon as their chil- dren were old enough to listen to advice — which with rabbits is very soon — Mr. and Mrs. Bunny told them all about it, and advised them not to waste their energies in trying to dig through coal- ashes and sticks, but rather to go on improving the cellars, in which there was always plenty of work for willing paws. Sometimes an important passage-way would cave in, or they would find that a little extra digging would make a short cut, or they would decide that the underground dining-room was not large enough, and then all the paws would fall to work. But two of the eight children unfortunately heard a little girl who was watching them say to their owner, "If / was a rabbit, I'd never stay in a little place like this; I'd scratch out." " But suppose you had to scratch through coal-ashes and sticks ?" said the boy, laughing. " I'd not mind the coal-ashes," persisted the little girl, "and I'd hunt round till I found a place between the sticks : there must be places." Snip and Snap, who were the only ones above ground, looked at one another : here was a brand-new idea ! They whispered together a good deal that day, and when night came and the rest of the family were asleep, they began to dig on the side where the earth felt softest. They soon came to the ashes ; the hard bits of coal hurt their poor little paws dreadfully, but they encouraged each other, taking turns with the digging, and when they struck a THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 245 stake they went so carefully just on one side of it that they man- aged to make a narrow passage, barely large enough for one at a time to squeeze through. But their hard task had taken longer than they thought, and as first Snip, and then Snap, came wearily out of the hole into the yard, it was broad daylight, and they heard footsteps coming down the gravel-walk. They scuttled under a thick evergreen, and were barely hidden when the boy came up to the hutch. " Hallo !" he said ; ■" here's a bad business ! I did think I'd fixed them so that they couldn't scratch out this time." And, being a wise boy, he first repaired the breach, so that the other rabbits might not escape, and then went to look for the two missing ones, who by this time had stolen along under the hedge, and were safely — as they thought — out in the fields. Meanwhile, poor Mr. and Mrs. Bunny were nearly distracted with alarm and anxiety. They could not go themselves in search of their disobedient children, but they begged a sparrow, who had frequently and by invitation shared their meals, to fly about the neighborhood and see if he could discover the wanderers, and tell them that if they would come home all would be forgiven. The sparrow obligingly undertook the search, and as he went peeping about under bushes and leaves he met a large horned beetle. The beetle, who had reasons for distrusting birds, was at first not inclined to be sociable, but a few pleasant remarks from the sparrow — who had no desire to eat anything so hard and horny 246 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. as the beetle — soon reassured him, and he agreed to report to the sparrow if he should see anything of the truant rabbits. Poor little Snip and Snap were already repenting their rash act. "What a very large place out-of-doors is!" whispered Snip as they cautiously crept along under a fence in the field adjoining the garden. " It's a great deal too large," replied Snap piteously. " Suppose anything were to chase us, where could we hide? There'd be no time to dig a burrow, and — Oh, my goodness! what's that?" It was only two nice little girls sitting in the middle of the field trying each other under the chin with buttercups to see if they loved butter, and laughing when they found that they both did. But rabbits with guilty consciences are easily frightened, and Snip and Snap fled for their lives. When they at last stopped running it seemed to them that they must have gone miles, and they did not in the least know where they were. They were tired out and hungry and thirsty, but they were afraid to eat any of the green things around them, because they did not look in the least like the food which the boy had brought them every day. They crouched under a hedge until it began to grow dark, and then stole timidly out into the field and nibbled at several plants, afraid to eat much of any of them. They were faint with fatigue and hunger, and presently Snip said, " I do believe that last leaf I tried was poison- ous; I feel very queer indeed." THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 249 " Oh, please don't die, Snip," wailed poor little Snap ; " perhaps we can find our way back to-morrow, but I never could find it by myself." "Well, I'll try not to die," said Snip, drowsily; and he put his paw around Snap's neck. They both fell asleep, for they were quite worn out, and there the sparrow found them the next morn- ing ; the beetle had stumbled on them in the night, and had gone to tell the sparrow as soon as it was light. They lay so still and looked so forlorn that the sparrow thought at first they were dead, but he soon saw that they were breathing, and he waited patiently till they woke. He had meant to tell them just what he thought of them on the way home, but, as he said afterward, he " hadn't the heart to." They were so broken-hearted, and so thankful to him for taking them home, that he did not scold them at all. And when the boy came out to give the Bunny family its breakfast, there were the two truants meekly waiting outside the hutch, and only too happy when he picked them up and put them in. Mrs. Bunny nearly fainted for joy, and when Snip and Snap saw how ill she and Mr. Bunny looked, and heard how much wretchedness and anxiety their escape had caused, they could scarcely eat their breakfast for crying, hungry as they were, and they promised solemnly never to do such a dreadful thing again. And if the boy had only known this, and known what a deep impression the affair made upon the other six little Bunnies, he would have been saved the trouble of digging another and deeper '•5° HOLIDAYS AT HOME. trench around the rabbit-hutch, and filling it with coal- ashes, and driving down a whole lot of sticks beside the ones already there. But until either people grow clever enough to understand what birds and beasts say, or the birds and beasts learn to talk English and French and ever so many more languages much more difficult than their own, I am afraid there will continue to be misunder- standings and mistakes. A MAYFLOWER. T TNDERNEATH a pine tree, sheltered ^ from the north wind, Where the frost repented and melted into dew, And the south wind murmured hopes about the summer, Which was surely coming, a little Mayflower grew. All the wood was silent, for the trees were listening For the south wind's whisper that the time had come When the baby-leaves they held, sheathed from frost so safely, Might dance out to the music of the wild bee's hum. But the Mayflower ventured long before the leaves might, For she had an errand, and she knew not fear ; Stooping from the treetops to the ground, the south wind Told to her a secret which the tall trees did not hear. 251 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. Hardly had the last bud opened to the sun's kiss When a shout of rapture broke the silence of the wood : " Here it is, the first one, and a perfect beauty ! Oh, I meant to find one — I was sure I could." Eagerly but tenderly slender fingers clasped her, While the pine tree murmured, moui nfully and low, " Do not leave me, darling ; you will only wither. — Little child, dear little child, please to let her go " But the little maiden gently plucked the flower, Only saying to herself, " How the pine trees sigh !" While the Mayflower whispered, " Mother, Mother Pine Tree, Trust me with her ; I am not afraid of her. Good-bye." Then the little flower, feeling strangely drowsy, Fell asleep in peaceful faith that naught would go amiss : Nothing more she knew until, to a burst of music, Suddenly she wakened, thrilling through with bliss. Rose triumphant anthems to the King of heaven From the white-robed singers and the organ's voice. " Was not this worth dying for?" thought the little flower. "Was I worthy, then, of this? Oh, my heart, rejoice!" •NOTHING MORE SHE KNEW UNTIL, TO A BURST OF MUSIC." See Page 252. A MAYFLOWER. 255 Faint she grew and iainter, fading with the daylight, Heeding not the faintness in her ecstasy divine. Better, oh far better," with her dying breath she murmured, " One short hour of this to me than days beneath the pine. Better loving service than all peace and pleasure Where the south wind wanders and the sunbeams shine. Though my life had lasted to its fullest measure, It had never reached to this underneath the pine." AN OLD-FASHIONED FATHER. T'S a very strange thing," said old Mr. Bull- frog, shaking his head, " and a very sad one too, it seems to me. Our family used to be as renowned for swimming as they were for croaking, and now one never hears about anything but the croak." "Can you swim, father?" asked little Hop in a subdued voice and manner. Old Mr. Bullfrog swelled himself up. " I could swim perfectly when I was your age, my son," he answered, " and I still remember the theory quite well enough to teach it. • If your mother will ex- cuse us for an hour or two this evening, you and Skip shall come with me a little way up the bank, where the water is deep, and I will give you a lesson." So Mrs. Bullfrog gave them an early tea, and soon after Mr. Bullfrog and Hop and Skip found a nice place where the bank went off suddenly; and there Mr. Bullfrog sat down and gave them a lecture on swimming. His instructions were delightfully clear and simple. "First you jump in," he said. Hop and Skip shuddered. 256 17 MR BULLFROG TEACHING HIS YOUNGSTERS TO SWIM See Page 259. AN OLD-FASHIONED FATHER. 259 "Then you draw up your hind legs, like this," he continued, "and shoot them out suddenly, like that. Well, why don't you do it?" he asked impatiently. Hop and Skip immediately did it, all but the jumping in. "You can't swim on dry land," said their father. "Why don't you jump in ?" "It makes me feel all gone here, just to think of it," said Hop, putting his hand on his stomach, and little Skip shrank back from the edge in terror. " Now, this is all nonsense," said Mr. Bullfrog angrily. " If you'll just do as I say, and not as I do, you'll have no trouble at all. I could swim like a duck when I was no older than Skip. — You ought to set your little brother a better example, Hop." "If you'd just show us once, father," said Hop meekly, "I think we could do it: we'd see then that it could be done." Mr. Bullfrog sat on the bank and thought for at least five min utes. And while he was thinking he remembered that when his father taught him things he said " Come " much oftener than he said " Go," so that when he did say " Go," Mr. Bullfrog had has- tened to mind him. " Come, children," said Mr. Bullfrog pleasantly ; and, jumping up as he spoke, he "took a header" from the bank, and came up smiling, though he was puffing and blowing too, while Hop and Skip looked on in terror. Mr. Bullfrog reached up, caught Hop's leg, and pulled him into the water; then he turned and swam 260 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. gracefully backward, saying, " Come on now — swim toward me ; you'll not sink, and if you do I'll catch you." And Hop, when he recovered from his first scare, found that he could swim quite well, and enjoyed it. " You'll not do me that way, will you, father ?" implored little Skip from the bank as Mr. Bullfrog floated upon his back. "Not if you'll jump in without it, my son," said Mr. Bullfrog encouragingly. "Just look how Hop's enjoying himself out there beyond the cat-tails. Come — one! two ! three!" At "three" Skip actually did plunge in, and in a few minutes was swimming gayly about with his brother and father. "Why, you're all wet, father! did you go in too?" asked Mrs. Bullfrog when the party, in great spirits, returned home about an hour later. " Yes, I went in too, mother," said Mr. Bullfrog, smiling ; " and I'll get you just to rub me down with a burdock-leaf if you're not too tired : I don't care about having rheumatism if I can help it, but I found that it's much easier to teach swimming in water than on land." A HOT SUPPER. T was the first moth of the season, and a very large one. Five young sparrows all saw it at once, and each made a dart for it, but the moth had no idea of being eaten by one spar- row, not to speak of five ; so he flut- tered off as fast as his rather weak wings could carry him, and then be- gan a hot pursuit. The five sparrows hustled along, beating each other with their wings, making rude speeches, nipping each other's toes, each one struggling to be first in the race. Of course, in a struggle like this nobody could get on very fast, and the moth, who had been greatly terrified at first, began to laugh to himself as he found how easily he could keep ahead of them all. "I'll just lead them a dance," he said, "quarrelsome little wretches ! It's lucky for me it isn't Cock Robin's family, where they always go by ages, or Jenny Wren's, where the one who can catch anything divides it with the rest. It's a pretty long stretch 261 262 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. to the belfry, but I think I can manage it: my wings feei stronger than they did when I started, and when I get there I can slip in between the slats, where they can't possibly follow." And, chuckling to himself as he thought how angry and dis- appointed the sparrows would be, he flew lightly on, sometimes pausing a moment until all five thought they were sure- of him, and then flying rapidly to make the chase a little more exciting for them, until he gained the belfry without over-fatiguing himself in the least. He poised himself a moment on a twig of ivy, and then, just as the whole five made a sort of hustling rush for him at once, crawled between two slats, and peeped out to see five foolish- looking sparrows, very much out of breath with the long chase and the bump which they had given themselves against the belfry, turn sullenly about and begin to fly wearily home. " Which of you caught it, my dears ?" asked Cock Robin pleas- antly as the five drooped heavily down on a branch near his door. He had seen the beginning of the chase, but not the end. "We didn't any of us catch it." said the oldest sparrow angrily. " Td have caught it half a dozen times if the rest would have kept back and given me half a chance ; but they all pushed and crowded so that the moth got away — selfish, greedy things ! It was the first moth of the season too, and as fat as butter!" " I suppose," said Cock Robin quietly, " that any one of you could have caught it half a dozen times if the rest had kept back and given him half a chance. We can't all be first in the race, FIVE YOUNG SPARROWS SAW IT. AND EACH MADE A DART FOR IT. See Page 261. A HOT SUPPER. 26 = you know, but there's a certain pleasure in being second or third or fourth, or even fifth, if somebody we love is first." And, poun- cing on a large worm. which was engaged in measuring the tree upon which they were sitting, Cock Robin said "Good-evening" as well as he could with his mouth full, and took the worm to his family The five little sparrows looked at each other. They felt very much ashamed as well as very hungry. " I'm sorry," said the oldest sparrow softly, and he nestled up to the next one. "I'm sorry too," said the next; and so it went on until all five had said it, and were sitting so close together on the bough that they looked liked one large sparrow with five small heads. Perhaps you think that they meant they were sorry because the moth got away ? No doubt they were sorry for that, for it was too late now to catch anything, and they were obliged to go to bed without any supper. But, somehow, I do not think that that was exactly what they meant, and Cock Robin, who is a very observ- ing bird, does not think so either. ONE STEP AT A TIME. "\ "X J"E had walked so far since morn- V » i ngj For you see we were too poor To hire a cart to take us Across the lonely moor. We had all been down with the fever ; Mother and father were gone, And grandmother said, " My Gertrude, We must make our way to John. We will sell the little left us ; It will keep us till we get Some work to do in the village ; I can do a day's work yet. And John has room in his cottage To give us a corner there, And he and his wife will welcome us, Though it's little they have to spare." We seemed to get no farther, Though we had walked quite fast, 266 ■-! ■,M ONE STEP AT A TIME. 269 Till I saw the village-steeple, In the distance still, at last. But just as I said, " Dear grandma, Look, yonder is the town !" She turned aside to a furze-bank, And wearily sank down. " I can go no farther, darling," She said to me with a groan ; " Leave me here, my little Gertrude, And go you on alone. I am not afraid to stay here ; Nothing will do me harm ; And maybe John will come for me : I could walk with his stout young arm." But I was not going to leave her. " Oh, grandma dear," I said, "Just look how near the town is, And the road lies straight ahead. It can't be far, for, listen, We can hear the church-bells chime ; Come, lean on me and take one step — Just one step at a time." 270 HOLIDAYS AT HOME. She tottered on, I leading, And as the sun went down We reached the little cottage : It is just outside the town. How uncle and aunt did kiss us ! What welcoming words they said ! There never was such a supper Or such a lovely bed. ^3^^5u^- .- S