Bertie and the Gardeners: or, The Way to be Happy

There was a service in the church at ten, and at noon all the really aged people in the parish had been invited to a dinner at Woodlawn.

"I want to have a regular house-warming," Mr. Curtis had said to his wife. "I want to warm it with the good will of all our villagers." So it was decided that the old people should come to dinner, the married persons and children to tea, and the young people of both sexes in the evening.

I wish I could paint a picture of the happy faces that gathered around the festal board during that lovely Christmas Day. There was the good pastor and his family improving this pleasant occasion to speak a word here and there as it was needed among their flock. There were Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, leading Susy who had just returned from the hospital. There was Thomas Grant, his face red as a beet, gallanting a very sensible looking girl who was soon to become his wife. There were swarms of laddies and lasses, kept in constant good humor by Albert Dodge, who had returned to Oxford for the occasion. There were groups of children headed by Bertie, playing all sorts of games, or gathering in a circle around the Squire, who told them funny stories.

"You have learned the secret of living," remarked the Pastor, when he came to take leave. "In promoting the happiness and welfare of those about us we ensure our own."

"That is the rule by which my wife is training our boy," answered the gentleman. "No other house-warming could have pleased us so well as this."

CHAPTER XII.

VIOLETS AND VIOLETTA

When spring came, Bertie went one morning into his mamma's chamber with a bunch of the earliest violets.

The curtains were dropped before the large bay window, and though it was not cold a pleasant fire crackled in the open grate.

"Why, mamma, are you sick?" Bertie asked, running quickly to the side of the bed.

"Have you seen papa?" said mamma, smiling. "He went out to tell you I have a present for you."

"No, mamma, I didn't see him."

She turned down the sheet and showed him a tiny baby lying by her side, trying to suck its own little rosy finger.

Bertie was so astonished he could not speak.

"It's your little sister, my son, and if papa consents, you may call her Violetta in memory of these pretty flowers."

"Oh, mamma! I'm so glad! I love babies so dearly. Isn't she a darling?"

At this moment Mrs. Dodge came into the room. "Well, Bertie," she began, "your mamma has a pretty surprise for you. What do you think Winnie will say?"

"She'll think it's a doll, mamma. Oh, may I bring her in?"

He ran to the door, and met papa with Winnie in his arms.

Papa looked very smiling and happy as he walked to the side of the bed.

Baby had fallen asleep now, and was so quiet Bertie could hardly believe she was alive.

Winnie's eyes grew larger and larger as she gazed, until at last she gave a spring almost out of her papa's arms upon the bed.

Mamma screamed, and Mrs. Dodge came forward quickly; but papa had caught her again and held her firm.

"It's your little sister," he explained; "but you must go now and stay with Nellie, for Nancy wants the new baby to sleep."

"Let me take it a minute. Please, mamma, I wont break it. I wont, certain," pleaded the child.

"Some day," said mamma, and then she turned so pale that Mrs. Dodge hurried them all out of the chamber before mamma could ask whether the little spring flower should be named Violetta.

With his treasures safe in the house, Mr. Curtis, with his gardener, went to work with renewed zeal to beautify his grounds. His heart was full of gratitude to the kind Being who had given him so many blessings; and his delight was to be of benefit to those around him. No one really in need was ever turned from his door; while many, like Susy Hunt and Edgar Torrey, received the benefit of his donations.

"The Squire's son will be the father over again," said Mr. Taylor to the clergyman, "there's nothing pleases him so much, as to give him a chance to make somebody happy."

"Yes," was the reply, "and I never see him without recalling to remembrance the words: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

The fall previous all the rubbish about the place had been cleared away, the pieces of board and shavings, except what had been given to the poor, being carried to the shed adjoining the barn. The turf around the house had of course been a good deal cut up by the teams, and Mr. Curtis resolved to have new sods immediately laid down, not only on the terraces, but as far as the turf was broken.

This was quite a curiosity to Bertie, who followed Albert to the field where the men were cutting out pieces of turf about one foot in width and two feet in length; then back again to see that they were laid smoothly upon the well prepared ground, and nicely hammered down with large flat, wooden mallets.

With his exercise in the open air, Albert had lost something of his flesh; but his spirits were never better; and in his management of men, Mr. Curtis thought he had never known his equal. His gay good humor seemed to inspire all in his employ with new life, while his firm, clear manner of giving orders convinced them that he intended to be obeyed.

It was often a severe trial to Bertie to leave for school just as the men were engaged in some job which he particularly wished to see; but mamma explained that if he wished to be a useful man he must lay in a stock of knowledge while he was young.

One morning Mr. Curtis proposed to go to a nursery of trees near the city for the purchase of currant, gooseberry, blackberry and other bushes, together with a variety of ornamental shrubs.

Bertie's curiosity was greatly excited to visit such a place, which he fancied must be almost like Eden.

His mamma shook her head, saying:

"You have had a long vacation, my dear. School is the first duty now."

The little fellow's lip quivered; and for a moment he looked quite vexed; but while his parents with anxious hearts waited to see whether he would submit cheerfully to parental authority, his brow cleared, and he exclaimed:

"You always do know best, mamma. I should admire to go; but I dare say papa will take me some time."

Papa smiled, but said nothing. Mamma drew her son to her side, and kissed her approval of his conduct.

In five minutes he was trotting Whitefoot out of the yard, his smiles as bright, and his brow serene as ever.

CHAPTER XIII.

BERTIE'S REWARD

At noon, Bertie was obliged to hurry through his lunch, in order to be back in time for the afternoon session, which commenced at one o'clock, so that it often happened that he did not see his father till night.

When he came into the house, he was eager to tell his mamma that at last he had attained the honor of being at the head of the arithmetic class. He supposed of course his father had gone to the city, and did not therefore enquire for him. He only said:

"Please, mamma, don't tell papa when he comes home, because I want to tell him myself."

"No, I promise," answered mamma, smiling.

At the supper-table, his delight was great, therefore, when he found that instead of going to the city, Mr. Curtis had been to the town where the quarry of granite was.

"I concluded," said papa, with a curious smile, "that it would be a pleasure to go to the nursery in company with a boy who put aside his own wishes in order to please his mother. Dodge must get his ground ready, and wait till Saturday for his trees."

"Oh, papa! papa!!" shouted the boy, dancing with delight. "I mean to be always good, you and mamma are so very kind."

This was Thursday; on Saturday morning at an early hour the Squire and his son were on their way to the nursery.

They drove Duke in the carriage to the depot station, and left him in a stable close by, so that he would be ready as soon as they returned from the city. Bertie was in the gayest of spirits. He sat by the window, watching the farmers at work in the fields, ploughing, harrowing, or making furrows for putting the seed into their land. He enjoyed all this vastly, because he understood how it ought to be done.

He was so absorbed in watching these operations as they whizzed along past one farm and then another, that he quite forgot the pleasant errand on which he was bound. But suddenly he was recalled to the present by a plaintive voice asking, – "Have a paper, sir? This morning's paper, sir, and all the telegram news."

Mr. Curtis was absorbed in thought, and took no notice of the newsboy; but there was something in the sad voice, which awoke Bertie's quick sympathies.

"Papa! papa!" he repeated, pulling his father's arm, "won't you please buy a paper? See how many the boy has left."

"I've too much on my mind to care for newspapers, dear."

Bertie raised himself till he could speak in his father's ear.

"Please, papa, see how sick he looks. Can't you buy one?"

The gentleman opened his pocket-book, and gave his son fifty cents.

"Use it as you please," he said, softly.

All this time the newsboy had been making change for a coarse, rough-looking man who sat opposite, who was obliged to squirt a whole mouthful of tobacco juice out of his mouth, before he could say, —

"Give me a Erald," and then another mouthful to add, – "Don't cheat, now, you young rascal."

When the right change had been given, and the man was settled to his paper, the newsboy turned back to the boy whose eyes had expressed so much sympathy.

Bertie asked his papa if it would be too much trouble to change seats, and then he asked, —

"Do you sell many papers?"

"Sometimes."

"What do you do with the money?"

"I give it to mother. It doesn't half support us, though, and now she's going to die."

As the newsboy said this, a great sob seemed to choke him. Mr. Curtis, whose eyes were fixed full on his face, saw the little fellow resolutely suppress his emotion, and his sympathies were enlisted at once.

"Where does your mother live?" he inquired.

"Close by the depot in the city."

"Go and sell all the papers you can, and then come back here."

"Yes, sir," with a grateful glance at Bertie.

The cars, however, had run into the depot, and the passengers were beginning to alight, before they saw anything more of the newsboy. Bertie was begging his father to wait a little longer, when some one touched his arm; and there was the boy struggling up from behind.

"I've sold 'em all," he began, eagerly.

"Show me where your mother lives," Mr. Curtis said, when they stepped to the platform.

"Yes, sir."

These were all the words spoken, but a beautiful ray of gratitude shot from the poor boy's eyes.

CHAPTER XIV.

BERTIE AND THE NEWSBOY

A few steps brought them to an old block, where their young guide stopped.

"May I run in and tell mother you're coming. She's so very sick, sir."

"Yes, but be as quick as you can. I must catch the next train to E – "

Before they had time to miss him, the boy returned, his face very, very sad.

Bertie instinctively caught his hand, as they followed him to the humble chamber.

A woman lay there in the last stages of consumption. On a table near her was a cup, a tumbler, and a spoon, all empty.

"You are in distress," said Mr. Curtis, in a soothing tone; "tell me what you need."

"Nothing for myself. I shall soon be where want and sorrow shall never enter; but it is hard to leave my boy alone."

"Is he your only child?"

"The only one left of five. He will soon be an orphan."

Mr. Curtis stood a moment gazing about as if trying to judge from the surroundings something of the character of the inmates, when he caught a glimpse of Bertie.

The boy's eyes were fixed on his face with such an eager, wistful gaze, as if he wondered his father did not offer relief, that he resolved at once to befriend the orphan.

"You say," he began, "that you hope soon to be in heaven. Cannot you cast your care for your child on your heavenly Father?"

"I have tried to; but sometimes my faith is weak. He has been taught his duty to God. I" —

A fit of coughing interrupted her, after which, Mr. Curtis hastened to say:

"I will be a friend to your boy. I must leave you now; but here is a sum of money, you will need for immediate wants. I will try and call again before night. In the meantime, what is your name?"

"Martha Washburn."

They hurried away, reached the cars just in time, found exactly what they wished, smoke trees, tartarian honeysuckles, azalias, etc., etc., ordered them to be ready for Mr. Grant's team Monday noon, and then went back to the city.

Bertie enjoyed everything. The long rows of trees, the neat lines of bushes; but his heart was full of Jimmy Washburn. His little hand nestled itself into his father's, and every chance he had to speak, he repeated, —

"Oh, papa! I do love you. I do thank you so much. How glad that poor woman looked when you told her you would take care of her boy."

Mr. Curtis told his wife afterward that he kept thinking, as he saw Bertie's flushed, eager face, of the text, "of such is the kingdom of heaven," and prayed that God might keep his heart like that of his pure-minded boy.

Before he left the city, he made arrangements for Jamie's admission to a mission school, where he would be well educated, and then sent to a home in the great West. Then they hurried to Woodlawn to receive a warm welcome from mamma, Winnie, and a smile from little Violetta.

CHAPTER XV.

THE LAST CHAPTER

My young reader, I hope ere this you have come to love our little Bertie, and are sorry that this is the last chapter of the last volume about him and his sister Winnie.

I love Bertie dearly, and should like to tell you much more about him; but in the short space that is left I can only relate a few words of his after life.

Suppose I were to say that he became a liar, a thief and a Sabbath-breaker, would you believe me? You could not, because you have seen that he loved God and feared sin. You know how he grieved when he disobeyed his parents; and how earnestly he confessed his fault to his heavenly Father. You know how he tried to conquer his impatience, and to be a dutiful, loving child. You know how earnestly he endeavored to win every one around him to be good; and how anxious he was to make others happy. Have I convinced you that in order to be happy yourself, you must make others so? If I have, I shall be well paid for writing the history of Bertie and his friends.

Perhaps you will remember that he was not over fond of study when he first began to attend school; but when his mamma explained to him that in order to become a useful member of society, as his father was, he must learn to read, write and spell, which were the first steps toward acquiring a good education, he made it a duty to learn every lesson thoroughly, so that by the time he was sixteen years old he was prepared to enter college.

In the meanwhile Winnie had come into her teens, and little Violetta was no longer the baby; for there were a pair of beautiful twin brothers at Woodlawn, "as near alike," Mrs. Dodge declared, "as two peas in a pod."

In the quiet, country town of Oxford Mrs. Curtis had gained health and strength. Of course, with so many little ones, her family cares had greatly increased, but with faithful Nancy in the nursery, she found time for visiting the poor and distressed, all of whom felt well assured that no one in need of help would be refused aid from the kind family at Woodlawn.

On a cold, windy December night, the inhabitants of Oxford were startled by cries of "Fire! fire!" What was their horror to see the flames coming from the large barn over the lake. With one accord men, women and children rushed from all parts of the town to offer aid in extinguishing the fire. It was, indeed, not the barn, but only an immense stack of hay behind it. Mr. Curtis, with the aid of his men, soon succeeded in extinguishing the flames; but the neighbors, once aroused, could not be persuaded that all the dear family were safe, until they had caught a glimpse of every member.

Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were deeply affected at the kind solicitude manifested for their safety; and when they tried, with tearful eyes, to express it, Mr. Taylor answered for the rest:

"Don't talk of thanking us for wanting to preserve one of God's greatest blessings to us. Oxford would be a sorry place enough without our dear ones at Woodlawn. No, my friends, we all feel that you belong to us, from the Squire down to the tiny babes in the cradle. We're thankful you didn't need our aid to-night to put out the fire; yet if you ever do, there isn't a man, woman or child in Oxford, but would be proud to render it, for there isn't one who hasn't received some good at your hands."

When the hearty speech was ended, Bertie went around among the people, shaking hands and thanking them earnestly for their kindness; and then they quietly returned to their homes.