Bessie among the Mountains

"Ted had a way of curling himself up in Sol's manger and going to sleep when his work was done, and the horse would never suffer any one to come near or disturb him till he had had his nap out.

"Well, so Ted was doing very well, being obedient and industrious, when one day about Christmas time my son Bill went down to the steamboat landing to bring up a load of stores which had been brought from the city. There was a deep snow on the ground, with a prospect of more to come that day, and I did not feel just so willing to have him caught in the storm. A snow storm on these mountain roads is not a nice thing to be out in, I can tell you; but some of the stores were pretty badly wanted, and we were afraid they would spoil, lying on the dock.

"So Bill started off, taking Ted with him to help him load up, and driving Sol and Nero before the sledge.

"When he reached the village he went to the post-office, where he found a letter to himself, telling him his favorite brother Walter, who was at college in the city, was very ill and wanted to see him. There was but an hour or two before the train would be along, not time enough for him to come up home and go back again; so he went to the dock, loaded up the sledge, and giving the reins to Ted, bade him go straight home and stop for nothing.

"Ted would have done this had he been let alone; but as he came back through the village, a lot of mischievous fellows got hold of him and told him he was to stop at the public house and rest his horses before they set out for their pull up the mountain. When they had persuaded him they led him on to drink, till he became noisy and more foolish than ever; and when they had had their fun with him they let him go.

"As he was leaving, Seth Owen came out with his jug of whiskey and begged to be taken up the mountain. Now I had many times warned Ted against Owen, for I knew he was just the one to lead the poor fellow wrong if it was only to spite me; but he told Ted I had sent orders he was to take him home, and the lad was persuaded to do it.

"I suppose after they were on their way, Owen drank afresh himself, and led Ted to do the same. However that was, the hours went by, and when Bill did not come I began to be uneasy, all the more as by this time it was snowing heavily. I was standing on the piazza, looking down the road, and thinking if it was not best to yoke up a team of oxen and go in search of my boy, when I saw the sledge coming up the side of the lake. But no Bill and no Ted were with it, the horses were alone, plodding along through the snow, and if ever it was said without words, 'there's something wrong, come as quick as you can,' old Sol said it that day. We pitched off the load, quick as lightning, and I, with my other boys, started in search of Ted. My fears for Bill were set at rest by finding, pinned to one of the bags, a note saying where he had gone; for the dear thoughtful fellow had been afraid Ted would forget to give it to me, and so put it where he knew I must see it.

"Sol and Nero went straight ahead without orders or guidance, for I just let them have the rein, thinking the faithful creatures knew better than I did where they should go. Half way down the mountain they went, and night was just beginning to fall, when they stopped short in one of the most break-neck places on the whole road. We looked about us, and there, sticking up out of the snow, was a man's leg. We pulled him out in less than no time, but it was not poor Ted, but Seth Owen. We searched all about for the poor lad in vain; when, seeing old Sol was mighty uneasy, and stretching his neck out as if he wanted to get free, I took him out of the harness, thinking the creature might help us.

"Sure enough, he turned about, and going to a spot where the mountain fell sheer down a hundred feet or so, he pawed away the snow, and there, half on, half over the edge of the precipice, hung Ted, his clothes caught by a bush, and holding him back from sure destruction. He, as well as Owen, was dead drunk.

"We were putting him on the sledge when I saw Sol, who had trotted back to the place where we found Owen, pawing away once more at the snow, snorting and sniffing as if he were displeased. I went to see what he was about, thinking here was some other fellow buried in the snow; but as I came up to him, he uncovered the whiskey jug, the cause of all this mischief. He smelled about it for a moment, and then, with a snort of disgust, turned about, and dashing his heels upon it, sent it flying over the cliff, then walked quietly to the sledge, and placed himself ready to be harnessed, with an air which said, 'That can do no more harm.' We lost no time in getting home, where Ted, and Owen too, were brought round with difficulty. An hour more and they would both have been frozen to death. So you may believe we have cause to think much of old Sol."

"But how did the two men happen to fall from the sledge so nearly in the same place?" said Harry.

"We supposed they were both stupefied, partly by drink, partly with the cold, and that the sledge had run upon the bank, causing it to tip sideways, and they had slipped off, while the load being securely fastened with ropes had remained in its place."

"And did Ted ever get drunk again?" Bessie.

"Not while he was with me," said Mr. Porter, "and I hope he never will again. When he was told of his narrow escape and of what old Sol had done, he said, 'Nice old horse, nice old horse, he knew better than Ted. He teach Ted never touch whiskey stuff again.' His mother moved out west this spring, and he went with her; but I think his poor dull brain has received a lesson it will never forget."

"And what did Owen say about his jug?" asked Fred.

"He was very angry, and swore he would make me pay for it, seeming to think little of the saving of his life since he had lost that. He managed to pick up another one in a day or two, and the lesson did him no good."

V.

THE GARDENS

BESSIE thought a great deal of those two poor, wicked, neglected children, who had no one to care for them; and when she went up to bed and had knelt at her mother's side, and said her evening prayers, she paused a moment before she rose and said, —

"Please, dear Jesus, send some one to teach Lem and Dolly about you, and how you loved little children, and let me help them a little if there is any way I could do it, 'cause I am so sorry for them. Amen."

Mamma laid her hand very tenderly on her darling's head, though she said nothing, for she did not see how it was possible for her gentle little girl to help the two forlorn outcasts upon whom all kindness seemed worse than thrown away.

"Yet who knows what even she might do?" thought the mother, as having seen each little birdling safe in its nest, she went slowly and musingly down stairs to join the rest of the family, thinking as she went of Bessie's simple prayer, "who knows what even she might do? for —

'Often such childish heart is broughtTo act with power beyond its thought,For God by ways they have not knownWill lead his own.'"

It would not be the first time, as the mother knew, that the seed innocently dropped by that baby hand had taken root, and brought forth fruit rich and flourishing in the garden of the Lord.

"Maggie," said Bessie, the next morning as they sat together upon the piazza step, waiting for Mr. Porter to take them to the garden and give them their plots of ground, "Maggie, would you not like to do something for Lem and Dolly?"

"Yes, that I would," said Maggie; "I would just like to give Lem a good soaking in the lake, and to make Dolly's knee hurt just as much as Fred's."

"But that would be naughty," said Bessie; "it's not the way Jesus would like us to do, and it's not the Golden Rule that you like so much, Maggie. I think it is to give evil for evil."

"Well, I s'pose it is," said Maggie; "and it is rather naughty, I do believe, Bessie; but I do not mean I would do it, only I would like to do it. I think I'll be about as naughty as that."

"Don't you think you can forgive them, Maggie?"

"No, not quite," said Maggie. "I'll forgive them a little, but I can't give them the whole of my forgiveness. Why, they were so very bad, and did so many mean things to us, when we did not do a single thing to them. Don't you feel a bit angry with them, Bessie?"

"Yes," said Bessie, "I'm 'fraid I do. When I think about it I feel pretty angry. But I want to try and forgive them enough to do a kind thing to them if I have a chance."

"Oh," said Maggie, "we could never do a kind thing to them even if we wanted to. You see they just come and do something bad, and then run away, 'cause their guilty conscience knows they ought to be punished. And besides, Bessie, they're not fit 'ciety for us. The copy book says, 'Shun evil company,' and mamma said that meant we must not go with wicked people. And they are so ragged and dirty. You would not like to touch them or sit down by them, would you?"

"No," said Bessie, quickly, for she was very dainty and delicate in all her ways, and the thought of coming near the miserable, dirty children was not at all pleasant to her; "but maybe sometimes we might say a kind word to them without going very close to them; and if we showed them we did not feel very mad with them, perhaps they would not be so naughty to us. I am so very sorry for them, 'cause they have no one to teach them better, and no mother, and such a bad father, who tries to make them more wicked. If you ever had the chance to do a little bit of kindness for them, Maggie, would you not do it?"

"I don't know," said Maggie, "that's a great thing to make up my resolution about, and I'll have to think about it a little. Oh, here are Mr. Porter and the boys. Now let us go."

"Maggie and Bessie, mamma wants to speak to you in her room before you go," said Harry, looking very full of glee.

The little girls ran in, and there, oh, delight! there stood mamma with a tiny spade, rake and hoe in each hand. It was quite impossible to mistake who they were meant for. They were just of the right size for our two small gardeners; and mamma's look and smile as she held them out told that they were for their use.

Maggie gave a shriek of delight and went capering all about the room; and Bessie's bright smile and the color which flushed her cheeks told that though less noisy, she was not less pleased than her sister.

"Oh, you darling, precious mamma," said Maggie, pausing in her capers to examine the pretty toys, "they are just what we wanted. How did you get them so quickly?"

"I brought them with me," said mamma, "thinking that some day when you wanted, something to do, they might furnish you with a new pleasure; but I did not think they would prove useful so soon. You must be careful of them, and not leave them lying out in the damp, or they will be spoiled."

The children readily promised, and ran off to show their treasures to their brothers and Mr. Porter.

Mr. Porter soon measured off such a square of ground as he had promised for each of them, adding one for Hafed, who was much pleased to do as the others, and fell to with a good will at digging and planting. Mr. Porter also kindly gave them such seeds as would do to plant at this late season; and papa, who had driven down to the village with the Colonel and Uncle Ruthven, came back with a number of verbenas, heliotropes, geranium slips and other pretty things, which were set out in the new gardens. Nor was this all, for Uncle Ruthven had bought a small watering-pot for each child, and they had gone to the carpenter's, where the Colonel had ordered two wheel-barrows, one of a fit size for Maggie and Bessie, the other a little larger for the boys, and these were to be done in a day or two. In short, nothing seemed wanting to success but patience and industry on the part of the young gardeners.

The girls chose to have only flowers in their gardens, but the boys had some vegetables as well. Mr. Porter told them the beds must be kept nicely weeded, and watered when the weather was dry.

There was only one fault which Maggie and Bessie could find with their gardens, and that was that they lay at such a distance from the house that mamma could not allow them to go there without their brothers or nurse to have an eye upon them. Not that they were not to be trusted out of sight, but mamma did not think it safe for two such little girls.

For some days after this, the four boys, Harry, Fred, Hafed and Bob, seemed to have an immense amount of whittling to do. At all odd times they were found with their knives and small strips of wood in their hands, and these bits of wood were all fashioned into one size and shape. But to what use they were to be put was kept a grand secret, until one day when Maggie and Bessie went with Jane to work in their gardens, they found a neat little fence about five inches high all around their plots. The kind brothers had made this agreeable little surprise for them.

"Our peoples are always doing nice things for us," said Bessie, when they had thanked the boys.

"Yes," said Maggie, "I am quite expecting to be surprised all the time."

At which the Colonel and Mrs. Rush, who were standing by, laughed, though Maggie could not see why.

Meanwhile nothing more had been seen or heard of Lem and Dolly. Mr. Porter had found out that Owen had not returned with them, and that the two children were alone in their miserable shanty. One day when Maggie and Bessie were out walking with some of their older friends, they came upon this wretched home, if home it could be called. The rock against which it leaned formed one side of the house, the other three were of single boards nailed together. A square hole was cut for a window, but had neither glass nor casement; and the door hung by one rusty hinge, which looked as if it might give way at any moment. There was no one about; Lem and Dolly were away, probably busied in some new mischief or theft, and our party peeped within the open door. No furniture of any kind was there. A heap of dried leaves and dirty rags upon the hard, uneven ground which formed the floor, was the only bed; and the little girls drew back in disgust. Without, upon the rocks, were the charred embers of a fire, and over them two crooked sticks, and they, with a battered tin pan, and numberless bones and feathers which lay scattered about, told that there the ill-gotten food was cooked and eaten.

It must have been a hard heart which was not saddened by the thought that this was all the home of two young children; and Bessie felt more pity than ever for Lem and Dolly. Maggie felt it, too, and as they turned away, she whispered to her sister, —

"Bessie, I never saw such a dreadful place to live in. I would do a kind thing for Lem and Dolly, if I could."

It was a lovely spot, too, but for the signs of poverty and filth around. Before them the mountain fell suddenly away, leaving on two sides a beautiful view of the open country, dotted with its fields and farm-houses. Away to the north stretched range after range of blue hills, till those in the distance were lost in the veil of mist which hung over their tops. The woods around were full of wild flowers, briar roses, delicate primroses, and the bright red columbine, and even here and there, a late anemone; the little star-like flower, looking almost as if it had dropped from heaven, and wondered to find itself alone and solitary, so far away from its sister stars.

A perfect silence lay upon all around; not a sound was heard; not a leaf seemed to stir in the summer air; not a bird was heard to utter a note; and a hush fell upon the party as they turned into the lovely little wood-path which led them homeward.

Bessie lingered a little, with her eyes fixed far away, and her head on one side as if she were hearkening to something.

"What is it, darling?" asked her father. "Are you not ready to go?"

"Yes, papa," she answered, putting her hand into his; "I was only listening to the still."

Her father smiled, and led her on till they had joined the rest. They were quite near home when the Colonel, who had fallen a little behind with his wife, called to Maggie and Bessie.

"To-morrow is Sunday," he said. "Have you found a place where you can have your Sunday-school class?"

No, Maggie and Bessie said, they had not thought of it.

"But perhaps Mr. Porter will let us have it in one of his barns, as Mr. Jones used to do last summer," said Bessie.

"I have found a better place than that for you," said Colonel Rush; "that is, on a pleasant Sunday. When it rains, we must find cover within doors. See, here, what do you think of this for a Sunday-school room?" And he guided them a little to one side, where a sloping path and four or five natural steps led down into a broad crevice or cleft among the rocks which surrounded the lake.

A lovely room it was indeed, carpeted with moss, curtained and shaded by the green trees which waved overhead, and furnished with seats made by one or two fallen stones on one side, on the other by a ledge of rock which jutted out at just such a height as to make a convenient bench for little people. The steps by which they had descended, closed them in behind; in front lay the lake; beyond that again the gray old rocks, the mountain rising bold and stern above the peaceful waters. No glimpse of the Lake House or its cheerful surroundings could be seen, unless one peered around the edge of the inclosing mass of rock, and this the Colonel would not permit the children to do, lest they should fall into the water which washed at the very foot of the pretty retreat.

The little ones were enchanted, as was their dear teacher, Mrs Rush, or "Aunt May," as they always called her now.

"I thought you would like it," said the Colonel. "I was strolling about this morning when I came upon this nook, and thought what a pleasant Sunday-school room it would make. So convenient, too. See, this great stone will do for a seat for May, and here is one for her table; while this ledge makes a capital resting-place for you. Try it, little ones."

The bench certainly did very well for Maggie, but Bessie's feet would not touch the ground. However, the Colonel made that all right by rolling over a flat stone which answered for a footstool, and Maggie and Bessie thought there was nothing more to be desired.

"Harry and Fred want to come," said Bessie, "do you think you could let them, Aunt May? Sunday evening we always tell them the stories the Colonel tells us in the morning, but they say they would like to hear them for themselves."

"And Uncle Ruthven would like Hafed to come too," said Maggie. "He said he was going to ask you. Hafed likes to learn, Aunt May, and he knows English pretty well now, and tries to understand all that is said to him."

"Certainly," said Mrs. Rush, "they may all come if they wish, and then we shall not miss Gracie and Lily so much."

VI.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL

WHEN Sunday afternoon came they all met as had been arranged, in the lovely nook the Colonel had chosen for them. The little girls were there with Harry, Fred and Hafed. Bob Porter had asked that he might come too. Mrs. Rush was quite willing, but she feared that such great boys would not care for the simple lessons she taught to Maggie and Bessie. She knew they were all too gentlemanly to interrupt or trouble her; but she thought they might grow tired or think it was like babies' play; so she told them they might go if they did not like it.

But she was quite mistaken, for they all, even Bob, who was the oldest, listened not only with respect and attention, but also with great interest, and joined in the lessons with the best of good will.

Frankie was there too, for he had begged to come, and had been allowed to do so on the promise that he would behave very well and sit still. Sitting still was even harder work for Frankie than it was for Maggie; but he meant to be good and quiet, and would probably have kept his word if he had not been troubled. For by and by they all found that even in this quiet nook they were not to remain undisturbed.

Frankie sat as far as possible from Bob, with whom he was much displeased, though he had no good reason to be so. A short time before this, the little ones had all been playing on the grass in front of the house, while the grown people sat upon the piazza. It would have been thought that it was not easy for any one of them to get into mischief or danger with so many to watch them; but Frankie had a way of doing this which was quite surprising. Never was such a fellow for climbing as that Frankie, and his neck was in danger half a dozen times a day, in spite of all the care that could be taken. His mother's eye had been off of him for scarcely two minutes, when she was startled by hearing Maggie say in a terrified voice, "Oh, mamma, do come to Frankie!"

At the side of the house, and just beyond the end of the piazza stood the old well, which supplied them with fresh, cool water. There was a high stone curb around it through which ran a wooden spout, which carried off any waste water which might be poured from the bucket. This spout was partly outside, partly inside the well, and sloped towards the ground. The children, who wanted a drink, had run around to the well, and were waiting for some one to come and draw water for them, when Frankie climbed upon the spout, and before his sisters could stop him, perched himself astride the well curb. Mrs. Bradford turned her head at the sound of her little daughter's voice, and saw them both holding Frankie, the one by his skirts, the other by his leg, while the child was struggling in a frantic manner to free himself from their hold. Had he done so, he must surely have fallen into the well. Before any of the startled group upon the piazza could reach him, Bob Porter darted from the kitchen door, and snatching the child from the well curb, carried him, still struggling, to his mother. Mrs. Bradford thought it best to punish Frankie, and tying the mischievous little feet together with papa's pocket-handkerchief, she made him sit quiet upon the piazza steps for half an hour. When she let him go, he promised to do so no more but he was not reasonable; and instead of being sorry for his own naughtiness, was angry with Bob, who had carried him to his mother, and who, he thought, had caused him to be punished; and now he would not come near him or speak to him, which amused Bob very much.

When the children had all taken their places, and had done expressing their delight at the pleasant place in which they found themselves, Mrs. Rush opened the school; while the Colonel with his book stretched himself upon the rocks above, until he should be called upon for his accustomed story.

Every child then repeated a hymn, except Hafed, who could not yet master enough English for this, after which Mrs. Rush asked each one for a Bible verse.

"Can you say a pretty verse for me, Frankie?" she asked of the little boy who had just seen a fish throw himself out of the lake, and was eagerly watching for a second glimpse of him.

"Yes'm. Dat's a pollywod, I dess," said Frankie, with his eyes on the water.

"That's a great Bible verse," said Fred, beginning a giggle, in which the other boys could not help joining.

"Hush, Fred," said Mrs. Rush. "What was that nice verse I heard mamma teaching you this morning, Frankie?"

"Suffer 'ittle chillens – dat is a pollywod, Fred – suffer 'ittle chillers to tome unto me;" said Frankie.

"And who said that, Frankie?"

"Jesus," answered Frankie, bringing his eyes back from the lake to the face of his teacher, and becoming interested. "Jesus said it, and it means me."

"Yes, it means you, Frankie."

"And Maddie and Bessie," said Frankie.

"And all other little children," said Mrs. Rush.

"Not Bob," said Frankie, with a defiant shake of his head at the big boy, who had to put his hand over his face to hide the smile which would have way.

"Yes, and Bob, too. Jesus meant all children whoever they may be, or wherever they are."

"But Bob is naughty," said Frankie. "He telled mamma to tie my foots."

"Bob is very good, and Frankie must not be angry with him," said Mrs. Rush. "Frankie was naughty himself, and so mamma had to tie his little feet so that he might remember he was not to run into mischief."

"Jesus don't love naughty boys," said Frankie, with another reproving look at Bob.

"Jesus loves all children, the good ones and the naughty ones," said Mrs. Rush. "It makes him sorry when they are naughty and forget what he tells them, but he still loves them, and wants them to come to him and learn to love him, and be sorry for their sins."