The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pansy Magazine, January 1886, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Pansy Magazine, January 1886 Author: Various Editor: Pansy (Mrs. G. R. (Isabella) Alden) Release Date: March 31, 2014 [EBook #45266] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PANSY MAGAZINE, JANUARY 1886 *** Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Cover The Pansy Edited by "Pansy" (Mrs. G. R. Alden) Transcriber's Note: Many of the advertising images are linked to larger copies to enable the reading of the fine print and details. CANDY! Send $1, $2, $3, or $5 for retail box by Express of the best Candies in America, put up in elegant boxes, and strictly pure. Suitable for presents. Express charges light. Refers to all Chicago. Try it once. Address C. F. GUNTHER, Confectioner, Chicago. GOLD MEDAL, PARIS, 1878. BAKER'S Breakfast Cocoa. Warranted absolutely pure Cocoa, from which the excess of Oil has been removed. It has three times the strength of Cocoa mixed with Starch, Arrowroot or Sugar, and is therefore far more economical, costing less than one cent a cup. It is delicious, nourishing, strengthening, easily digested, and admirably adapted for invalids as well as for persons in health. —————— Sold by Grocers everywhere. —————— W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass. GOLD MEDAL, PARIS, 1878. BAKER'S Vanilla Chocolate, Like all our chocolates, is prepared with the greatest care, and consists of a superior quality of cocoa and sugar, flavored with pure vanilla bean. Served as a drink, or eaten dry as confectionery, it is a delicious article, and is highly recommended by tourists. —————— Sold by Grocers everywhere. —————— W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass. BRIGGS' Transfer Patterns. Catalogue 25c. Price lists free. J. F. INGALLS, Lynn, Mass. 50 Chromo & hidden name cards, the Love telegraph & outfit 10c., 6 lots, 50c. O. A. Brainard, Higganum, Ct. FREE Our New Book, just out, entitled, "DRESS REFORM FOR LADIES, or The Absurdity of the Custom of Tight Lacing, as well as its effect upon the Health of Slaves to the Fashion." Illustrated. Sent FREE (to Ladies only) on receipt of two 2-cent stamps to pay postage. SCHIELE & CO., 390 Broadway, New York. BROWN'S FRENCH DRESSING, The Original. Beware of imitations. Paris Medal on every Bottle. French's mustard AWARDED HIGHEST PRIZE AND ONLY MEDAL, PARIS EXPOSITION, 1878. can do their own Stamping for Embroidery and Painting with our Perforated Patterns, which can be easily transferred to Silk, Plush, &c., and can be used over and over. Our new outfit contains 30 useful Patterns (full size) viz.: 1/2 doz. Fruit Designs, for Doylies, one Spray each of Apple-Blossoms, Pond Lilies, Daisies and Forget-me-nots, Golden Rod and Autumn Leaves, Wild Roses, Fuchsias, Curved Spray Daisies and Rose Buds, corner of LADIES W Wild Roses, Bird on Branch, 3 Outline Figures, Embroidery Strips for Flannel and Braiding, and several smaller designs for Patchwork Decorations, &c., with your own Initials in 2-in. Letter for Towels, Handkerchiefs, &c., with Box each of Light and Dark Powder, 2 Pads and Directions for Indelible Stamping, 85 c. Our Manual of Needlework for 1885 of over 100 pp., 35 cts. Book of Designs, 15 cts. All the above, $1.15, postpaid. Agents Wanted. PATTEN PUB. CO., 38 West 14th St., New York HEADQUARTERS FOR LADIES Fancy Work BOOKS, Stamping Outfits, Fancy Work Materials, etc. Ingalls' Manual of Fancy Work, new edition, Price 36c. Colors of Flowers for Embroidery 35c. Handbook of Crochet and Knitted Lace 30c. Book of Darned Lace Patterns 25c. Book for Crazy Patchwork 15c. Macrame Lace and Rick-Rack Book 15c. Book of Worsted Cross-Stitch Patterns 25c. Book of Tidy and Point-Russe Patterns 25c. Instruction Book for Stamping and Painting 15c. The retail price of these 9 books is $2.21. SPECIAL OFFER!—We will send you these 9 Books by mail, for $1.00 and five 2c. stamps. INGALLS' BIG CATALOGUE has Thousands of Illustrations of New and Choice Stamping Patterns for all kinds of Embroidery. Price 15c. Our Instruction Book gives full directions for Dry and Wet Stamping, also Instruction for Kensington, Lustra and Hand Painting, 15c. New Stamping Outfit, containing Alphabet (26 letters), 47 Stamping Patterns, Box Powder, Pad, a Felt Tidy; Imported Silk to work it, Instruction Book and Big Catalogue (mentioned above). Price $1.00. Address J. F. INGALLS, Lynn, Mass. YOU CAN DYE ANYTHING ANY COLOR With Diamond Dyes, for 10 cts. They never fail. 32 fast colors. They also make inks, color photo's, etc. Send for colored samples and Dye book. Gold, Silver, Copper and Bronze Paints for any use—only 10 cents a pk'ge. Druggists sell or we send postpaid. WELLS, RICHARDSON & CO., Burlington, Vt. 50 Hidden name & chromos, 5 birthday cards & holiday gift, 10c., 6 lots, 50c. Empire Co., Higganum, Ct. "LITTLE WONDER," perforates 10 sheets of designs at once (original or from art books) for stamping, painting, &c. Used by Teachers, Artists and Fresco Painters. Price, $2. Circulars and specimen of work free. Agents wanted. EUGENE PEARL, 23 Union Sq., New York. ANTED! Agents of either sex for first-class household articles. Catalogue free. Write at once to WORLD MANUF'G CO., 122 Nassau St., New York. The Latest and Best Thing Out. J BEFORE YOU BUY A BICYCLE Of any kind, send stamp to A. W. GUMP., Dayton, Ohio, for large Illustrated Price List of New and Second-Hand Machines. Second-hand BICYCLES taken in exchange. BICYCLES Repaired and Nickel Plated. The LADIES' SEWING ASSISTANT This is the most useful article ever made. Every lady wants one and must have one. It can be attached to any table. It has a Spool Holder for sewing and basting thread, Emery Cushion for pins and needles, a Work Holder, and a Steel-edge Thread Cutter. It recommends itself as the most useful article ever invented. The illustration gives a very poor idea of what it really is. It must be seen to be appreciated. In order to introduce our old and reliable 8-page (48-column) weekly family story paper, The Yankee Blade, into thousands of new homes, we make the following extraordinary offer, which has never been equaled by any responsible publisher in the world. The regular subscription price of The Blade is, and always has been, $2.00 a year, but, if you will subscribe at once, we will send the Ladies' Sewing Assistant and The Yankee Blade, every week for one year, for only $1.25. Or, we will give the Sewing Assistant, free, for a club of two yearly subscriptions, at the above special rate, $1.25 each. The Blade contains in one year over 400 complete stories, besides a vast amount of miscellaneous matter that is alone worth more than is asked for all. We guarantee everything strictly as represented, or the money will be refunded. The Yankee Blade has been published every week for 45 years, and as to our responsibility we refer to any publisher in the city of Boston. Address, Pub. Yankee Blade, Boston, Mass. scroll saw with a women and two young men OYFUL News for Boys and Girls!! Young and Old!! A NEW INVENTION just patented for Home use! Fret and Scroll Sawing, Turning, Boring, Drilling, Grinding, Polishing, Screw Cutting. Price $5 to $50. Send 6 cents for 100 pages. EPHRAIM BROWN, Lowell, Mass. Use "Our Trade Mark" Hams and Boneless Bacon. F. A. FERRIS & CO. WORK SHOPS WITHOUT STEAM POWER BY USING OUTFITS OF foot-power outfit BARNES' PAT. FOOT POWER machinery can compete with steam power. Sold on trial. Metal and woodworkers send for prices. Illustr'd catalogue free. W. F. & Jno. Barnes Co. Rockford, Ill. Address No. 291 Ruby St. Volume 13, Number 9. Copyright, 1886, by D. Lothrop & Co. Jan. 2, 1886. THE PANSY. three children rolling a huge snowball NEW YEAR'S FUN! LIVES THAT TOUCHED. PART II. WHEN they reached their hotel, they had much to say about the brave little girl with a kind voice, and a strong arm. Daniel the cook knew at once by the description who they must be. "It will be Janet Burns, the fisherman's girl, Miss Celia; and a nicer one never breathed. The care she takes of them children; and the life they lead her!" The next morning the Raymond children left the shore, and went back to their city home. And they were sorry, for they wanted to see more of Janet. Weeks passed, and the business of Christmas time came again to the Raymonds. The box which the children were always allowed to send to whom they would, was being planned. "We would like to send it to the fisherman's children down the coast; Janet, you know, and all her children; Daniel told us all about them." This was the verdict of both Celia and Annie, and to it they clung, in the face of all objections in the shape of not knowing what they needed, or how they would receive a gift. "They need everything, mamma; if you had seen them, you would know. And of course they will like it; who wouldn't like to have a Christmas box?" So the box went its way. It was delayed, as boxes are apt to be, so it was Christmas morning when it reached the desolate little home where Janet lived. It was very desolate that day; and Janet who did not often lose her courage, had given up and cried. No work, and hungry mouths and worn-out clothes. That was the whole sad story. Positively, Christmas day as it was, [65] [66] W "W there was not a mouthful in that house to eat! They had had some breakfast, but where the dinner was to come from none of them knew. The father, after sitting with his head leaning on his hands for awhile, had risen up very slowly as though he had grown old in a few hours, and said: "If worse comes to worst I can go to Daniel at the hotel and ask him for some cold pieces; but I do hate to beg." Then he went out, to take one more look through the dreary little village in search of work. It was then the express wagon stopped at the door, and a great box was carried in. "Janet Burns" was the name in heavy black letters on the box. It was a work of time to get it open. The hammer, axe, an old file and a big old knife each had to be tried in turn. But at last it was open and the treasures began to come out. Oh! the wonders of that box. Two plump fat chickens bearing in their breasts a card on which was written: "We are cooked all ready to be eaten; or, if you like us hot, just plump us into the oven a few minutes, for it is a cold day and we have come fifty miles by train." A beautiful ham which had another card: "I'm boiled, and am very good eaten cold." A bag of potatoes which said: "We are not cooked, but if you will wash our coats and put us in your oven you will see how fast we will get ready for dinner." So, through the box. There were two pies, and a cake full of raisins, and a bag of nuts and candies. And there was a package over which Janet cried for joy; she had laughed about all the rest; but this had warm flannels, and three dresses for the baby; and two suits almost as good as new for the little girls; and a woollen blanket for father's bed, and could it be! Yes, there was a new dress for herself; besides this, there were stockings and shoes, and two flannel sacks, and I really have not time to tell you what else. But pinned into a corner of a pretty handkerchief which had Janet's name on it, was a shining bit of gold worth five dollars! Can you imagine Mr. Burns' face when he came back with a loaf of bread he had earned, not begged, a bit of dried beef, and found the table set, a chicken before his plate, flanked by a dish of potatoes in such a hurry to be eaten every one burst through their coats? All the talk there was during the next hour, would make a book in itself. "And you ain't no notion where they came from?" he asked for the third or fourth time. "Not the least in the world. One card says: 'From Santa Claus, to the little girl who takes good care of her brothers and sisters;' but who knows whether I take good care of them or not?" "I suspect the Lord does," said Joseph Burns reverently, "and He has told some of his children to send you a Christmas box. We must thank the Lord, and trust to Him to pay the others. He will do it." But I cannot help thinking, what if Janet had been cross that windy day! SIX O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING. He did that which was right in the sight of the lord. The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. For unto this day they drink none, but obey their father's commandment. By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. HY, yes," said Grandma, with her finger on Rollo's verse, and her eyes tender with old memories, "I remember a story about that verse; and it is a story which I think likely I shall remember in Heaven." "Let's hear it right away, if you please," Ralph said, and the others settled into quiet as soon as possible. "It wasn't so very many years ago, not more than fifty-five," began Grandma, and then Rollo nudged Harold, and chuckled; and Marion looked with grave astonished eyes at a woman who thought fifty-five years was not a long, long time! But Grandma took no notice of them. "Yes," she said, "it is just about fifty-five years ago. There was a pretty little boy whom I knew; he had yellow hair, and the bluest eyes, and he was a dear bright little fellow. One day he went visiting out to a nice old lady's who lived near his father's old place. While he was there, who should come along but two trim little girls who were out getting signers to the Total Abstinence Pledge. We called it the tetotal pledge in those days. There was quite an excitement about it in town. A man lectured every evening, and had meetings for the children afternoons, and gave them each pledge books, and the one who got the greatest number of signers was to have a medal with his name on. It wasn't a gold medal, but it shone, and had a nice blue ribbon to put around your neck; and the children all liked it. "Well, these two came to aunt Patty's door and asked for signers. Aunt Patty invited them in and got out her quill pen which wasn't used very often, and she and her oldest girl, Prudence, put down their names. The little fellow stood looking on; he wasn't four years old yet, but he lived where he saw a great deal of writing going on, and behold he wanted to sign his name. Aunt Patty laughed, and tried to explain to him that he was too young; but he said No, he "writed" his name once when "favver" held his hand, and he wanted to do it again. That was true enough. One day his father bought him a picture book, and guided the pencil in his hand and let him put his name in it. After a good deal of [67] Mother writing while older woman and boy watch THE LITTLE FELLOW LOOKED ON. coaxing, aunt Patty sat down and took him in her lap, and held that old quill, guiding it as well as she could, and he did get what looked something like his name in the book. It was very queer writing," said Grandma, stopping to laugh at the thought of it, with that same tender look in her eyes, "but the little fellow was just as proud of it as could be. He told of it the first thing when he went home, but his mother—oh! you don't know how badly she felt." "Why?" interrupted Marion and Rollo. "Wasn't she a good mother?" asked Marion. "Didn't she believe in temperance?" asked Rollo. "O, yes, she believed in temperance; but she had some very strong notions about promises. She wanted her little boy to understand all about it whenever he made one, and then to keep it as he would the eighth commandment; and she said he was too young to take a pledge, that he could not understand what it meant, and he would think that signing his name to a paper was a light thing, just for play. Why, children, she felt so badly about it that she just sat down and cried." "Ho!" said Rollo, "I think she was foolish. I dare say he understood." "Go on, Grandma," said Marion. "Well, while the mother was crying, the father came home, and wanted to know all about it; and he thought as Rollo does, that the boy understood, or could be made to. He took him on his knee and they had a long talk all about drinking; what a dreadful thing it was, and about pledges, and then what should he tell him but this old story of the Rechabites; how they kept the promise made to their father, never forgetting it once; and how God was pleased, and rewarded them. Then he made the little fellow hold up his hand and say after him: 'Unto this day they drink none, but obey their father's commandment.' Then he explained that the paper the child had signed was a promise that he would obey his father's command and never touch liquor. 'I won't, favver,' the boy said; 'I'll 'member.' And he looked very earnest. But in two or three minutes he was playing with the cat; and his mother couldn't feel that he really understood much about it. "It was three years afterwards, and the little boy was seven years old—a beautiful child. One winter his mother was very sick, every one thought she would die; she was so low that she didn't know her own little boy, and she couldn't bear the least noise; so her boy was taken to his auntie's, and stayed there for weeks. One evening he was in the parlor with his uncle, there were three or four gentlemen there, and pretty soon cider was brought in. The little boy sat beside a gentleman who offered him a drink of cider from his glass; the boy refused politely; and the gentleman thinking he was timid, coaxed him. Then his uncle spoke up: 'That young man has never tasted cider, he tells me.' At this they all laughed; it was a very unusual thing in those days to find a child seven years old who had never tasted cider; it sounded almost as strange as it would to say now that one had never tasted water. "The gentleman said that accounted for his not wanting some; that he did not know how good it was; so he urged him to just try a swallow, and kept coaxing until at last his uncle said, 'Try it, my boy; if you don't like it you need not take any more.' 'No, sir,' the boy said, 'I don't want to try it!' Well, then his uncle thought he was rude and disobedient and ought to be made to mind; so he said: 'I command you to take a swallow of it, my boy, and I am to be obeyed, you know.' What did that little seven-year-old baby do but get up in the middle of the floor, with his eyes flashing, and his cheeks glowing, and shout out in a loud strong voice: '"Unto this day they drink none, but obey their father's commandment," and I don't either. I promised, I did; and I never will; not if you whip me to death.' Then he burst out crying, and ran out of the room." "Good for him!" said Rollo. "Oh, hurrah!" said Harold. "I am so glad!" said Marion. "I wonder what his mother thought then, if she ever heard of it. Did she get well, Grandma?" [68] [69] little girl THE LONELY LITTLE GIRL. "Yes, she got well; and was a proud and happy mother when she heard the story. But that is only the beginning of it. I saw that boy when he was a young man and came home from college as handsome as a picture, and I heard his father say to him: 'Well, my boy, they tell me most of the young men use liquor more or less; how do you get on with them?' "And he looked around with his bright laughing eyes and said: "'I'm all right, father; to this day I drink none, but obey my father's commandment. That pledge of mine ought to be printed in gold on my tombstone when I die, for it has held me in the midst of many temptations.' "And there his mother thought he was too young to understand!" And Grandma Burton actually wiped the tears from her eyes, though she was smiling yet. "Grandma," said Marion, "what was that boy's name? You haven't spoken his name once." "I guess something," said Ralph eagerly. "Wasn't his name Mott, Grandma?" "Robert Mott Burton, that was his name, my darlings." "Our own uncle Mott!" said astonished little Sarah. "Then that's what makes him such a red-hot temperance man now, isn't it?" said Rollo. "Didn't he begin early, though?" A CHRISTMAS STORY. IT was Christmas morning. Gracie Bennett had wakened early and scrambled out of bed to take a look about her room to see if Santa Claus had paid her a visit while she slept. Santa Claus had queer ways of doing things in the Bennett household. He left packages scattered about in the most unexpected places. He was always sure to leave one for each member of the family in the dining-room, to be opened at the breakfast table, but the children did not have to wait so long for the beginning of the day's surprises. And Gracie found several of these before she had taken half a dozen steps from her bed. Indeed there was a large box on the foot of the bed. In it she found the hat she had been longing for—just exactly like Maud Spencer's! And there in a smaller box was the necklace— and O, how lovely! The bangle bracelet— mamma did not fancy bangles and Gracie did not expect to get that. But mamma knew that little girls' tastes have to be cultivated considerably before they get beyond bangles, and after talking it over with papa she concluded that Gracie's last whim should be indulged since there was really no harm in it. On went the necklace, and on went the bracelet. "One, two, three, four, five, six—six hooks. Let me see—cousin Tom promised me a bangle and of course papa and mamma will each give me one, and Maud's will make four—O, I'll soon have enough to fill it. My! it is shivery here," and Gracie looked around for something to put about her; the furnace fire had run low and it was quite cold. A dressing-gown belonging to cousin Tom which Louise had brought in to mend, hung over a chair, and Gracie was soon arrayed in it. And finding herself quite comfortable she concluded not to go back to bed, but busied herself with her new treasures, saying, "Just as soon as the first bell rings I'll go and wish papa and mamma 'Merry Christmas!'" Presently the bell pealed through the house, and Gracie, arrayed in her new hat, made her first call. Then she pattered down the hall to cousin Tom's room to be first with Christmas greetings. Tom was up, and opening the door, drew her into his room. "O, how nice! your grate burns lovely." After the new hat, necklace and bangle bracelet had been duly admired, Tom and Gracie, his little cousin, sat down in the great arm chair to enjoy the bright fire and have one of their chats. [70] I A "Who are you going to make happy to-day?" "Me? How can I make anybody happy?" Tom smiled as he replied, "Do you not know that you make us all happy, just by being here?" "O, I thought you meant something different." "So I did, little one. There are a great many people in this city who have very little to make them happy, and you and I who have so much may make at least one heart joyful on this glad Christmas day, do you not think so?" "If I knew how," said Gracie. "We will try to find a way. I see you are quite dressed up this morning," referring to the dressing-gown. "Do you see my new one?" "Yes; you are the one that is dressed up." "I know a poor invalid to whom I mean to give the old one, and there is a little girl who has not a comfortable dress nor a pair of shoes." "Nor any nice hat and bracelet?" "No, I doubt if she has any hat or even a hood. I saw her out with an old shawl over her head." Just then the second bell rang and Gracie was obliged to go and get ready for breakfast. Other surprises awaited her, but she was unusually thoughtful, and at last Louise said, "Gracie, what makes you so sober? Are you not satisfied?" "O, yes; but I am thinking what I can give to a little girl who has nothing to make her happy to-day." "I don't believe there are any such people," said Louise; "everybody manages to get about so much out of something, I guess. They may not have just what we have, but there's something." "Do you believe that?" asked cousin Tom. "Maybe not exactly, but there's no use in making a child like Gracie miserable over what she can't help," replied Louise, in a low tone. "But she can help a little." "I am going to help," said Gracie earnestly, having caught the drift of Tom's question. "I have made up my mind what I shall send the little girl cousin Tom told me about." "Suppose I should take you to see her?" "I should like that! If mamma will let me go." "I think she will. Auntie, will you let me have Gracie for an hour this morning? I will take good care of her." "O, mamma!" expostulated Louise, "he is going to take her among his poor people! She will be sure to get a fever or something!" "I am going to take you, too," said Tom; "and I am not going to take either of you into any dangerous places." Louise arched her eyebrows as she replied, "Going to take me! We'll see." But she went. She generally did whatever Tom suggested. I am not certain whether it was the package of warm clothing, the basket containing the Christmas dinner, the toys which Gracie had packed, not forgetting a bead necklace, or the presence of the beautiful child and lovely young lady in that home, that brought the most of happiness upon that Christmas day to the sad heart of Karl Ritter and his lonely little girl. But this I do know, that the visitors carried away as much happiness as they brought, for Gracie declared it was the nicest Christmas she had ever spent, and even Louise confessed that there was a new joy in her heart that day, for she had tested the truth, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Faye Huntington. GEORGIE AND JACK. SHIP lay becalmed on the ocean— Of all beautiful, helpless things! She lay like a wounded sea-bird With motionless, snow-white wings. Day after day had she lain there [71] With never a sail in sight; A cloudless sky above her Morning and noon and night. Precious and rare was the cargo Hidden deep in her hold, To be borne to a Northern market And changed into yellow gold. But naught was that to the captain Pacing the hot deck there, To the little wife who was with him, And the child with his sunny hair, The child who under the awning Lay moaning his life away, The child who was going to leave him Ere the close of that weary day. There was another on that good ship Whose race was nearly run, A bronzed and grizzled sailor Who would die ere the set of sun. And they two had loved each other— The sailor old and gray, And dear little baby Georgie Whose life was a summer day. Was it only a childish fancy— Or because he was worn and sad That the sinful, weary pilgrim Had been loved by the little lad? A weak voice calls the captain: "Papa, won't you please come here?" "I am here—I am listening to you, What is it, Georgie dear?" "Papa, I want to see Jack, And Jack wants to see me so— Mamma says I am going to leave you, I must see him before I go. "Jack says that he has been wicked, But I have been wicked too; I think if God forgives me He'll forgive him too, don't you? "I taught him the prayer our Saviour said And my last best little hymn, And I think Jack is sorry, So I sha'n't worry for him. "But, papa, if they could bring him And lay him down here by me, And I might keep fast hold of his hand, I could take him to Heaven with me." They brought the grim old sailor Whose life was so sad and wild, And laid him under the awning By the side of the little child. When the sun passed his meridian Little Georgie went away; The old man lived till round and red He dipped at the close of day. But ere he went his faltering tongue This prayer sent up from the sea: "For Georgie's sake—for the sake of Thy Son, Be merciful to me!" They treasured the small white body With its quiet little feet, But they gave to the brown old sailor A sailor's winding-sheet. There came at length a blessed breeze That filled the limp white sail And tightened the creaking halyards With the strength of a fair fresh gale. So it came to pass as all things do, That one fair and sunny day, Proud and staunch in the harbor The ship at her anchor lay. But the captain bent to the sad white face That rested against his arm, And said, "Dear wife, little Georgie Is safe from all sin and harm; "His life was bright and beautiful, With nothing its joy to dim, He gladdened the heart of a sinful man, And—'took him to Heaven with him.' "We will bury his dust, little mother, Under the trees at home, But Georgie beholds the face of Him Who said: 'Let the children come.'" Emily Baker Smalle. Merry Christmas Happy New Year A CHRISTMAS GREETING.—A Christmas Story. Volume 13, Number 10. Copyright, 1886, by D. Lothrop & Co. Jan. 9, 1886. [72] [73] THE PANSY. Hen and chicks MOTHER TOPKNOT AND HER FAMILY. REACHING OUT. (A Further Account of Nettie Decker and Her Friends.) By Pansy. CHAPTER III. NEXT thing we want to do is to earn some money." This, Jerry said, as he sat on the side step with Nettie, after sunset. They had been having a long talk, planning the campaign against the enemy, which they had made up their minds should be carried on with vigor. At least, they had been trying to plan; but that obstacle which seems to delight to step into the midst of so many plans and overturn them, viz. money, met them at every point. So when Jerry made that emphatic announcement, Nettie was prepared to agree with him fully; but none the less did she turn anxious eyes on him as she said: "How can we?" "I don't know yet," Jerry said, whistling a few bars of Oh, do not be discouraged, and stopping in the middle of the line to answer, "But of course there is a way. There was an old man who worked for my father, who used to say so often: 'Where there's a will there's a way,' that after awhile we boys got to calling him 'Will and Way' for short, you know; his name was John," and here Jerry stopped to laugh a little over that method of shortening a name; "but it was wonderful to see how true it proved; he would make out to do the most surprising things that even my father thought sometimes could not be done. We must make a way to earn some money." Nettie laughed a little. "Well, I am sure," she said, "there is a will in this case; in fact, there are two wills; for you seem to have a large one, and I know if ever I was determined to do a thing I am now; but for all that I can't think of a possible way to earn a cent." Now Sarah Ann Smith was at this moment standing by the kitchen window, looking out on the two schemers. Her sleeves were rolled above her elbow, for she was about to set the sponge for bread; she had her large neat work apron [74] N tied over her neat dress-up calico; and on her head was perched the frame out of which, with Nettie's skilful help, and some pieces of lace from her mother's old treasure bag, she meant to make herself a bonnet every bit as pretty as the one worn by Miss Sherrill the Sabbath before. "Talk of keeping things seven years and they'll come good," said Mrs. Smith, watching with satisfaction while Nettie tumbled over the contents of the bag in eager haste and exclaimed over this and that piece which would be "just lovely." "I've kept the rubbish in that bag going on to twenty years, just because the pretty girls where I used to do clear- starching, gave them to me. I had no kind of notion what I should ever do with them; but they looked bright and pretty, and I always was a master hand for bright colors, and so whenever they would hand out a bit of ribbon or lace, and say, 'Cerinthy, do you want that?' I was sure to say I did; and chuck it into this bag; and now to think after keeping of them for more than twenty years, my girl should be planning to make a bonnet out of them! Things is queer! I don't ever mean to throw away anything. I never was much at throwing away; now that's a fact." Now the truth was that Sarah Ann, left to herself, would as soon have thought of making a house out of the contents of that bag, as a bonnet; but Nettie Decker's deft fingers had a natural tact for all cunning contrivances in lace and silk, and her skill in copying what she saw, was something before which Sarah Ann stood in silent admiration; when, therefore, she offered to construct for Sarah Ann, out of the treasures of that bag, a bonnet which should be both becoming and economical, Sarah Ann's gratitude knew no bounds. She went that very afternoon to the milliner's to select her frame, and had it perched at that moment as I said, on her head, while she listened to the clear young voices under the window. She had a great desire to be helpful; but money was far from plenty at Job Smith's. What was it which made her at that moment think of a bit of news which she had heard while at the milliner's? Why, nothing more remarkable than that the color of Nettie Decker's hair in the fading light was just the same as Mantie Horton's. But what made her suddenly speak her bit of news, interrupting the young planners? Ah, that Sarah Ann does not know; she only knows she felt just like saying it, so she said it. "Mantie Horton's folks are all going to move to the city; they are selling off lots of things; I saw her this afternoon when I was at the milliner's, and she says about the only thing now that they don't know what to do with is her old hen and chickens; a nice lot of chicks as ever she saw, but of course they can't take them to the city. My! I should think they would feel dreadful lonesome without chickens, nor pigs, nor nothing! We might have some chickens as well as not, if we only had a place to keep 'em; enough scrapings come from the table every day, to feed 'em, most." Before this sentence was concluded, Jerry had turned and given Nettie a sudden look as if to ask if she saw what he did; then he whistled a low strain which had in it a note of triumph; and the moment Sarah Ann paused for breath he asked: "Where do the Hortons live?" "Why, out on the pike about a mile; that nice white house set back from the road a piece; don't you know? It is just a pleasant walk out there." Then Sarah Ann turned away to attend to her bread, and as she did so her somewhat homely face was lighted by a smile; for an idea had just dawned upon her, and she chuckled over it: "I shouldn't wonder if those young things would go into business; he's got contrivance enough to make a coop, any day, and mother would let them have the scrapings, and welcome." Sarah Ann was right; though Nettie, unused to country ways and plans, did not think of such a thing, Jerry did. The next morning he was up, even before the sun; in fact that luminary peeped at him just as he was turning into the long carriage drive which led finally to the Horton barnyard. There a beautiful sight met his eyes; a white and yellow topknot mother, and eight or ten fluffy chickens scampering about her. "They are nice and plump," said Jerry to himself; "I'm afraid I haven't money enough to buy them; but then, there is a great deal of risk in raising a brood of chickens like these; perhaps he will sell them cheap." Farmer Horton was an early riser, and was busy about his stables when Jerry reached there. He was anxious to get rid of all his live stock, and be away as soon as possible, and here was a customer anxious to buy; so in much less time than Jerry had supposed it would take, the hen and chickens changed owners and much whistling was done by the new owner as he walked rapidly back to town to build a house for his family. Mrs. Smith had been taken into confidence; so indeed had Job, before the purchase was made; but the whole thing was to be a profound surprise to Nettie. Therefore, she saw little of him that day, and I will not deny was a trifle hurt because he kept himself so busy about something which he did not share with her. But I want you to imagine, if you can, her surprise the next morning when just as she was ready to set the potatoes to frying, she heard Jerry's eager voice calling her to come and see his house. "See what?" asked Nettie, appearing in the doorway, coffee pot in hand. "A new house. I built it yesterday, and rented it; the family moved in last night. That is the reason I was so busy. I had to go out and help move them; and I must say they were as ill-behaved a set as I ever had anything to do with. The mother is the crossest party I ever saw; and she has no government whatever; her children scurry around just where they please." "What are you talking about?" said astonished Nettie, her face growing more and more bewildered as he continued [75] his merry description. "Come out and see. It is a new house, I tell you; I built it yesterday; that is the reason I did not come to help you about the bonnet. Didn't you miss me? Sarah Ann thinks it is actually nicer than the one Miss Sherrill wore." And he broke into a merry laugh, checking himself to urge Nettie once more to come out and see his treasures. "Well," said Nettie, "wait until I cover the potatoes, and set the teakettle off." This done she went in haste and eagerness to discover what was taking place behind Job Smith's barn. A hen and chickens! Beautiful little yellow darlings, racing about as though they were crazy; and a speckled mother clucking after them in a dignified way, pretending to have authority over them, when one could see at a glance that they did exactly as they pleased. Then came a storm of questions. "Where? and When? and Why?" "It is a stock company concern," exclaimed Jerry, his merry eyes dancing with pleasure. Nettie was fully as astonished and pleased as he had hoped. "Don't you know I told you yesterday we must plan a way to earn money? This is one way, planned for us. We own Mrs. Biddy; every feather on her knot, of which she is so proud, belongs to us, and she must not only earn her own living and that of her children, but bring us in a nice profit besides. Those are plump little fellows; I can imagine them making lovely pot pies for some one who is willing to pay a good price for them. Cannot you?" "Poor little chickens," said Nettie in such a mournful tone that Jerry went off into shouts of laughter. He was a humane boy, but he could not help thinking it very funny that anybody should sigh over the thought of a chicken pot pie. flowers with faces "NANNIE FOUND THEM," SHE EXPLAINED. "Oh, I know they are to eat," Nettie said, smiling in answer to his laughter, "and I know how to make nice crust for pot pie; but for all that, I cannot help feeling sort of sorry for the pretty fluffy chickens. Are you going to fat them all, to eat; or raise some of them to lay eggs?" "I don't know what we are going to do, yet," Jerry said with pointed emphasis on the we. "You see, we have not had time to consult; this is a company concern, I told you. What do you think about it?" Nettie's cheeks began to grow a deep pink; she looked down at the hurrying chickens with a grave face for a moment, then said gently: "You know, Jerry, I haven't any money to help buy the chickens, and I cannot help own what I do not help buy; they are your chickens, but I shall like to watch them and help you plan about them." Jerry sat down on an old nail keg, crossed one foot over the other, and clasped his hands over his knees, as Job Smith was fond of doing, and prepared for argument: "Now, see here, Nettie Decker, let us understand each other once for all; I thought we had gone into partnership in this whole business; that we were to fight that old fiend Rum, in every possible way we could; and were to help each other plan, and work all the time, and in all ways we possibly could. Now if you are tired of me and want to work alone, why, I mustn't force myself upon you." "O, Jerry!" came in a reproachful murmur from Nettie, whose cheeks were now flaming. "Well, what is a fellow to do? You see you hurt my feelings worse than old Mother Topknot did this morning when she pecked me; I want to belong, and I mean to; but all that kind of talk about helping to buy these half-dozen little puff-balls is all nonsense, and a girl of your sense ought to be ashamed of it." Said Nettie, "O, Jerry, I smell the potatoes; they are scorching!" and she ran away. Jerry looked after her a moment, as though astonished at the sudden change of subject, then laughed, and rising slowly from the nail-keg addressed himself to the hen. "Now, Mother Topknot, I want you to understand that you belong to the firm; that little woman who was just here is [76] [77]