Chapter III: Introduction (2)

"What is the little one thinking about?
What does she think of her mother's eyes?
What does she think of her mother's hair?
What, of the cradle roof that flies
Forward and backward through the air?
What does she think of her mother's breast,
Round and beautiful, smooth and white,
Seeking it ever with fresh delight--
Cup of her life, and couch of her rest?
What does she think, when her quick embrace
Presses her hand, and buries her face
Deep, where the heart-throbs sink and swell
With a tender love she can never tell,
Though she murmurs the words
Of all the birds,
Words she had learned to murmur well?
Now she thinks she'll go to sleep!
I can see the shadow creep
Over her eyes in soft eclipse
Over her brow, and over her lips.
Out to her little finger-tips!
Softly sinking--down she goes!
Down--she--goes!--down--she--goes!
See! she is hushed in sweet repose."

"As the doctor gazed on this lovely scene, and heard the beautifully touching words so fitly spoken, instead of smiling, he frowned and sighed, for his heart was troubled.

"Coming forward, he grumbled out, 'A family party, I see.'

"'Yes,' said the father, rising and smiling; 'and no one but yourself would find a welcome.'

"'So much the better,' growled the doctor. 'Nurse, light the gas.'

"'We have not lit it yet,' said the young mother, pointing to the two wax lights in a distant corner, 'because they tell me the eyes of infants are very weak and tender.'

"The doctor took no notice of this, only nodded to the nurse; and she, standing in mortal fear that he would cut her head off immediately if she hesitated, obeyed his order.

"The mother looked at her little child, who was still peacefully sleeping, and then shaded her eyes with her hand from the sudden blaze of light, thinking that though the doctor seemed very cruel, he must be doing what was right. Poor young mother!

"'I only need this last test before I tell you what it means,' said the doctor. 'Here, give me the child.'

"The father tenderly laid the little Eva in his arms, though quite at a loss to imagine what experiment was to be tried. The light was certainly too strong to be let suddenly into a darkened room, he thought; but the doctor knew best. It was strange that only the noble-looking gentleman, Mr. Vernon, seemed to divine the meaning of the rough but kind-hearted man, but he knew only too well; he was _sadly sure_. I will tell you why, presently.

"And now the tender head of the sleeping child lay helplessly against the physician's rough coat, encircled by his arm.

"Suddenly he dashed some cold water, that stood near, into her face.

"Little Eva awoke, and opened her dark blue eyes immediately under the bright stream of light. She did not cry; she did not shrink; calmly she looked up, never flinching, never winking as she lay.

"The doctor raised her nearer and nearer to the flame; he turned the screws, and let out each burner to its fullest capacity, and passed his hands rapidly to and fro close to the child's eyes, then turning towards the wondering, panic-stricken group, who were slowly beginning to understand the meaning of that fearful pantomime, he laid her once more in her father's arms, and looking in his face, said, in a rough, broken voice, while a great tear trembled in his eye--'God help little Eva,--SHE IS BLIND.'

"The doctor went away that night with the sorrowful wail of the poor parents smiting his heart.

"He came again and again, but nevermore in that house did he open the door upon a group so smilingly happy, as that which greeted him on the fatal night, when he told them the dreadful truth, that their child would never see their faces, for she was blind.

"And now I will tell you about Mr. Vernon. When he was quite a young man, rich, handsome, and surrounded with friends, he was taken ill with a dreadful fever, which left him totally blind. For a long, long time he murmured at God's will, and refused to believe there was any thing left worth living for; but God's ways are not our ways, and in His own good time He so softened the wilful heart of the blind man, so that he became not only resigned, but happy.

"After a few years, God gave him a beautiful wife, who loved him more because of the affliction which made him so dependent upon her loving care; and oh! how I hope that all who are reading this true story will have a tender pity for those upon whom God has caused outward darkness to fall. They cannot see the sunshine, or the beautiful flowers--let them _feel_ the warm sunshine of a loving heart.

"In due course of time Mr. Vernon had two lovely children, the elder a pretty little maiden, with deep blue eyes, and dark, wavy hair, whose sweet name was Ruth. The dear little girl was six years old before the other darling came to gladden his parents' heart, and having no companions but her blind father and gentle mother, she grew to be quite a dignified little woman. None so proud and happy as Ruth, when she was guiding her blind father; none knew better all his favorite walks in and around the beautiful country place where they lived; and her gentle, patient ways made her the very darling of his heart.

"In a few years there was another little being in the world, to whose happiness Ruth was necessary; and that was her poor blind cousin, Eva, and though Ruth's parents missed her sadly, they would often give up their darling, and send or take her into the city, to visit and comfort and amuse Eva.

"Ruth understood Eva better than any one else, because she had been her dear blind father's constant companion; and Eva loved her with all her heart; she knew her step; she would hear it before any one else did, and the color would rush in her face, and she would wait with beating heart till the door opened, and then she would rush to her, throw her arms round her neck, and cry, 'Oh, dear Ruth! darling Ruth!' and kiss her twenty times, and Ruth would kiss Eva just as many, and then they would sit down close together, and have such a nice, happy talk! for Ruth had to tell all about the chickens, and Dandy, the pony, who loved sugar so dearly; and how she had hemmed six pocket-handkerchiefs for her dear father, and most wore a hole in her little thimble; and how her little baby brother had scrabbled off with old Dobbin's bran-bag, just as the poor old horse was going to eat his dinner, and poked his own dear little head in it, and when he pulled it out, the bran was all over his face, making him look as if he was covered with freckles; which funny caper made Eva laugh like 'any thing.'

"And when the talking was over, Ruth read to little Eva, for all toys were useless to the blind child; but her books were doubly dear, and Ruth was never tired of reading to her; so while she staid, Eva was as happy as it was possible to be.

"One day the good doctor brought a celebrated occulist to see Eva. An occulist is a physician who cures diseases of the eyes, and devotes his whole time and talent to that precious and delicate part of the human frame.

"The occulist examined her eyes very carefully, and then said: 'After a few years I can perform an operation on Eva's eyes that _may_ give her sight; but it will be a very painful one, and perhaps I may not succeed. If this dear little child were mine, I would almost rather let her remain blind than give her such terrible pain, which may end in disappointment.'

"But oh! what a blessed hope! her parents _would not_ see the dark side; they dwelt upon the happiness it would be for little Eva to see; and one day her father took her upon his knee, and, fondly kissing her, said: 'Eva, my darling, would you like to see the beautiful sunlight and sweet flowers?'

"'O papa! yes! yes! but, most of all, I want to see you and mamma, and Ruth and Dinah.'

"'Well, my darling, if you can make up your mind to endure a terrible pain, when you are older we will have the operation tried. It will only last a moment, dear Eva, and then just think! you will see the whole beautiful world! and know all of us by our faces, as you now do by our steps and voices; you will see the birds flying in the air; the moon sailing slowly in the heavens, the little twinkling stars, and the rippling water, and we shall be so happy! so happy! I will not tell you when to have it done; I will wait till _you_ are ready, my darling.'

"Then Eva thought long of it, and had many an earnest conversation upon the subject with her little cousin Ruth; and one day she said: 'Ruth, will you promise me, _true for true_, that you will come and hold my hand when they operate upon my eyes?'

"'I promise you, _true for true_,' said Ruth.

"And so the matter was settled.

"Time passed on; and Eva was now eleven years old, and Ruth nine.

"Then Eva made a great resolution, and going to her father, she said: '_Father, I am ready_ NOW.'

"They were simple words; but poor little Eva had prayed to God, for nights and nights, and many times in the day, to give her strength to say them, and God had heard her prayer; for though her father turned deadly pale at the words, the low sweet voice of the child did not tremble.

"And now the good doctor came, all his roughness gone, and he held that little head, with its glossy waves of hair, to keep it steady, but it trembled far less than he did; for he had watched Eva from her infancy, and dearly loved her, and he was intensely interested in the result of the experiment about to be performed.

"Near Eva stood her mother and her brave and faithful cousin Ruth, holding her hand, as she had promised '_true for true_,' and telling her to take courage, for all would be well.

"'Patience,' said the operator, softly; 'a pang, and half the suffering will be over.'

"The little hand which held Ruth's was clasped more tightly, and a groan smote on the listeners' ears. The room reeled--a faintness came over the heroic child; but she was soon herself again.

"'Would you not rather wait a day or two for the other eye to be operated upon?' said the kind physician. 'A week hence, or a month, will answer.'

"'Oh! no,' answered Eva, with quiet self-possession, 'let it be done to-day; let it be done NOW. I do not think I could bear the suspense, and it would _please my father_ to know that it was over.'

"Love sustained her. Another sigh--another groan, and it was finished.

"Then came the bandages, the darkened room, the stillness, the repose, for one whose nerves had been so shaken; but often those little cousinly hands were clasped together in a pressure which spoke more love than many words.

"Her father hardly ever left the house, and her mother wept often, for she loved her child in her blindness as much as a mother _could_ love, and had never wished her to go through so much suffering--suffering which might be fruitless; and she waited for the result with trembling anxiety.

"A _look_ from a physician has often more weight than many words spoken; and Ruth, who read the good doctor's face with the keenness of a child's perception, was the first to see an expression of hope shining upon it. When the day came for the bandages to be removed, Eva's father and mother were so dreadfully agitated, that they had to leave the room. Trembling, they stood outside in the hall, waiting for the happy or wretched tidings.

"But Ruth--brave little Ruth--held Eva's hand as before. Those little clasped hands gave each other courage, for Ruth needed it as much as Eva, and her heartbeats could almost be heard in the silence. What a study her sweet little face was, as the emotions of love, pity, fear, and hope, crossed it, as shadowy clouds flit across the sky!

"Slowly, cautiously, the bandages were removed, and at last the end came, and the little girl saw upon the physician's face a broad, cheerful, happy smile. Ruth was a heroine, and had great self-control; but now control became impossible. She thought not of consequences--she only thought of the unceasing prayer which had been breathed by that household for many weeks--she only saw that that prayer had been granted.

"'SHE WILL SEE! she will see!!' she almost screamed. 'Eva! Eva! love! darling! do you hear?'

"The physician gave her a stern look of rebuke, but it was too late; Little Eva had fainted.

"'_Ruth is right_,' said he to the father and mother, who had rushed in at this blessed announcement, 'but she has been too abrupt. Her cousin and herself are wonderful little women in times of trial and danger; but neither of them are equal to a sudden joy.'

"It was a long time before Eva got well, and was permitted to use her new and precious gift of sight; but then the amazement and delight with which she ran from one thing to another--the joy with which she gazed upon the faces of her parents and Ruth, no one of us, who have always seen, can ever know or appreciate.

"And old Binah said, as she hugged her darling to her faithful breast, 'God bress de good massa dat gib de sight to my little missis. It don't make no sort of difference to she, case old Binah _black_. Dear, no! she lub her just de same when she see _dat_! don't you, little missis?'

"'Why, _of course_ I do,' answered little Eva, and she kissed good old Binah, and ran off with Ruth to look at some flowers. Oh, that precious sight! how dear it was, to her!

"And now she is no longer _poor_ rich little Eva."

* * * * *

The children had listened to the story of Eva, with eager, breathless attention; and when Ruth screamed out, "She will see! she will see!" they very nearly screamed, too, so rejoiced were they that the blindness had been removed; and the dear little girl had not suffered so much for nothing.

"It must be so terrible to be blind," said Anna; "don't you remember when we went to see the exhibition of the blind children at the Academy of Music, the tears were rolling down mamma's face nearly the whole time, and we all felt so sorry, that we came home quite unhappy?"

"Dear me," cried Harry, "I do wish there was no such affliction; why must there be, mamma?"

"God knows best, dear Harry," answered the little mother. "If He did not, for His own wise purpose, permit us to know trouble and sorrow in this world, we would never desire that blessed rest and peace hereafter, which he promises to all those who put their trust in him."

"Yes, God must know best," said Clara, in a low voice; "for dear Charley has had more suffering and sorrow than any of us, and yet he loves Him, and wants to go to heaven."

"When Charley was very little," said the mother, "I found him crying bitterly one day. 'Why, what is the matter, my darling?' I said.

"'Oh mamma!' he sobbed, 'I am so afraid there won't be room enough in heaven for me! Do you think such a poor, lame child can get there?'

"I took him in my arms, and kissed and comforted him, and told him that Jesus looked at the heart, not at the weak, crooked body; and that the better and purer his life was, the greater would be his welcome to His house Beautiful, when life had ended here."

All the children looked at Charley, with their eyes full of love; and in their prayers that night, they entreated that Jesus would remember their dear little brother's life-long suffering, and give him a place close to Him in heaven.

THE FOURTH LETTER.

ILL TEMPER.

_For George._

"DEAR GEORGE:--You know you are now nearly seventeen years old, and quite a patriarch in the Nightcap family; and I am rejoiced that I can say with truth, that you have been, and are, a most excellent elder brother, unselfish, sweet-tempered, and always setting a good example."

"Dear me," interrupted George, laughing and blushing very much, "I do not deserve such high praise;" but here the expression of his face changed, his lip began to tremble, and running up to his mother, he kissed her, and said--"Whatever I am that is good, you, dear mother, have made me."

"With God's help and blessing, my dear son," said his mother, returning the kiss; and then she went on reading.

"When you were a little fellow, of not quite seven years, you had the scarlet fever, and were very ill; and perhaps you remember how cross you were for a long time after."

"Oh, yes," exclaimed George; "mother used to say somebody else must have jumped into my skin, for, certainly, I was not the same George."

"I have written a story about this change in temper, and how a cure was effected. _You_ became sweet-tempered again, as soon as you got quite well; but Arthur, in my story, required a lesson and some punishment, as he became cross without scarlet fever, rhyme, or reason. I hope you will let me know if you think I have invented a good plan to cure a cross-patch. You know I am a great believer in our always trying first upon _ourselves_, what we propose to '_do to others_,' as the very best way of finding out if we would like the same '_done to us_.'"

"Why, that's the 'golden rule!'" cried little Minnie; and now the children settled themselves, and eagerly listened to the following story:

ILL TEMPER.

"When Arthur was about seven years old, he was one of the very best boys to be found in a long summer's day. In the morning he would spring out of bed with a bright smile, wash and dress himself quickly, with the help of Mary, his kind nurse, say his prayers slowly and reverently, (ah! _that_ was the secret of his goodness!) and then all day long he would be so obliging and good-tempered, that no one could help loving him that knew him; and so they didn't try to help it, for everybody loved him dearly.

"But, alas! I have heard the doctors say, (and of course _they_ must know,) that once in every seven years the whole body is renewed, flesh, bones, blood, nerves, muscles; and I grieve to have to relate, that in Arthur's case the change seemed to include his spirit-part also; that is, his good temper and loving ways marched out of him, and some very bad substitutes marched in, as I shall proceed to relate.

"One morning Arthur awoke at his usual hour, but not with his usual smile. His face was all puckered up like a frozen apple. He floundered about the bed, and bumped his head against the head-board, and was just as cross as forty bears.

"Of course every thing went wrong; he put his stockings on wrongside out, tied his shoes in a hard knot, pulled on his pantaloons with the back part before, and drew his arms through his jacket upside down. Did you ever hear of such a piece of work?

"When Mary came to brush his hair and wash his face, he screamed out, stamping his foot at her--'Do stop! Stop! I tell you! You brush me as hard as ever you can! I wish you would leave me alone, you ugly old thing!'

"Oh, dear, dear, what a sad boy! He puts me in mind of that other naughty boy who scolded his nurse in a piece of poetry. This is it:

"'Oh _why_ must my face be washed so clean,
And scrubbed and scoured for Sunday?
When you know very well, as you've always seen,
'Twill be dirty again on Monday.

"'My hair is stiff with the hateful soap,
That behind my ears is dripping;
My smarting eyes, I'm afraid to ope,
And my lips the suds are sipping.

"'They're down my throat, and they're up my nose,
And to choke me you seem to be trying,
That I'll shut my mouth, you needn't suppose,
For how can I keep from crying?

"'And you rub as hard as ever you can,
And your hands are hard, to my sorrow;
No woman shall wash me, when I'm a man,
And I wish I was one to-morrow.'

"But at last Arthur went sulking down to breakfast, _forgetting to say his prayers_; and taking his seat at the table, whined out, the very first thing--'Just look at this piece of toast; it is all burnt, and as hard as a stone. I won't have it!' Then he tasted his coffee, and exclaimed--'Pooh! what coffee! perfect slops!'

"His mother was grieved to see him acting so naughtily, and said, gently--'I am sorry, Arthur, you are not pleased; will you have an egg?'

"Arthur cracked an egg with his teaspoon, looked at it, threw it down, and turning up his nose with disdain, said--'Eggs! Brickbats you mean! they have been boiling all night.'

"This exhibition of ill temper distressed his mother exceedingly, but she did not say any thing to him then; being a woman of excellent sense, she formed a plan in her mind which she hoped would effect a cure.

"Arthur was an only child. His parents were rich, and they preferred that he should be educated at home; they feared his learning evil as well as good at a large school. Hitherto this plan had been very successful, for Arthur was as studious and obedient as his tutors could possibly wish; and this sudden and sad change made all around him unhappy. I will give you a history of one of these miserable days.

"On this morning, his tutor arrived, as usual, at nine o'clock; and commenced by giving his pupil a lesson in penmanship. There was an ominous scowl on Arthur's face. He twitched his copy-book before him, pretended he could not find a good pen, scratched and blotted the paper from top to bottom, and so, when the lesson was finished, the page was a sight to behold.

"'You have not tried to write well,' said his master, mildly.

"'My pen was abominable, and the paper was greasy,' said Arthur, sulkily.

"'A bad workman always pretends that his _tools_ are to blame,' said the master.

"'Oh, dear me! you are never satisfied! If I write too lightly, you say it looks as if a spider had scampered over the paper with inky legs; if I bear on harder, you ask me how much horse power I have put on to make such heavy strokes. I don't know what to do! I don't! You are always grumbling.'

"'Oh, no! not always, for here are a great many pages on which I have written, "Very well; very well, indeed."'

"'That was only by chance,' said Arthur.

"'But if these chances do not always occur, whose fault is it?'

"'Oh, mine! I suppose you mean to say,' answered Arthur, pettishly.

"'Well, my dear boy, only look at your writing to-day. It resembles a company of soldiers, each of whom carries his musket to suit himself, this one to the right, that to the left, a third horizontally, a fourth perpendicularly, and all the rest of the letters with broken backs and crooked legs. Just look at it!'

"'Oh, dear! you are always mocking me,' whined Arthur. 'One would think I did it all on purpose. Oh, dear me!'

"At last this lesson came to an end; but the others were no better, and the poor master went away with his temper sorely tried, sadly remembering the happy and good little Arthur of the year before.

"In the afternoon, his mother said, in a pleasant tone, 'Come, dear Arthur, come and take a walk with me; it is such a lovely day; the robins are singing in the trees; and look, how fast the delicate white clouds are sailing through the air! Come, dear.'

"'It isn't pleasant! and I can't _bear_ robins,' said Arthur.

"His mother sighed and went alone.

"Left at home, Arthur tried to amuse himself. He got out his puzzle, or dissected map of the United States; but as ill-tempered people are never patient or gentle, in a very little while he had cracked South Carolina nearly in two, snapped off the top of Maryland, broken New York into three pieces, and made mince-meat of the Union generally, which was a very shocking thing to do, even on a dissected map; and then, the cross boy ended by throwing all the States into the black coal-scuttle.

"After this he tried to read; but nothing seemed to amuse him. From 'Robinson Crusoe' he went to the 'Rollo Books,' and from those to 'Nightcaps,' and declared they were all stupid alike, 'a perfect pack of nonsense!'

"As a last resource, he called Jumbo, his big cat, who was so fond of Arthur, that he would let him do just what he pleased with him, that is, as long as his little master was kind; but to-day he pinched his ears, and pulled his tail, and twitched his whiskers at such a rate, that poor Jumbo puckered up his face like a pudding-bag, and squalled like a first-class opera singer.

"'The bad old thing!' exclaimed Arthur. 'I declare, he ought to be drowned! I'll never play with him again. Scat! scat! get out!' and off scampered poor Jumbo, and hid himself behind the kitchen door.

"All this time you are wondering his mother did not punish him. Wait a little. Just read to the end, and then tell me what you think of her mode of punishment. I shall wish very much to know if you approve of it.

"One evening, after Arthur had gone to bed, his father and mother had a long consultation with each other about the best way of curing Arthur's ill temper; and they agreed upon a plan his mother had thought of during the day.

"The next morning came, when the trial was to be made. Every one received his or her instructions from Arthur's mother, and were quite ready to begin the new mode of punishment.

"But, for a wonder, on this particular morning Arthur awoke feeling very pleasant and amiable. Never mind, he was to receive his lesson all the same.

"While Mary was helping him to dress, she seemed very snappish and impatient.

"'Do, for goodness sake, keep still, Master Arthur!' she said; 'you are always fidgeting and fussing.'

"'_I?_' said Arthur, laughing. 'Why, I've been as still as a mouse!'

"Mary was silent for a moment, but presently she exclaimed--'How carelessly you have washed your hands, your shirt is all wet. I have shown you how to wash without splashing a hundred times. You worry my life out!'

"'I _tried_ to do as you told me,' said Arthur, with a little sigh.

"'Oh, fiddlesticks! don't tell _me_! You are a terrible boy!' and Mary bounced out of the room, banging the door behind her.

"Arthur went down to breakfast, and ran up to his mother to tell her about Mary. 'I think _she_ was "terrible,"' he said. 'What could be the matter with her, mamma?'

"'Perhaps she was indulging in ILL TEMPER,' answered his mother, significantly.

"When they sat down to breakfast there was no toast.

"'I should like a piece of toast,' said Arthur.

"His mother rang a little bell, and the cook came in. She looked first at the mistress, with a peculiar smile, and then she looked at Arthur.

"'Margaret,' said he, 'there is no toast.'

"'I know it, Master Arthur; it was too brown; and you are so hard to suit, that I did not dare to serve it.'

"'_I_ hard to suit?' cried Arthur, who seemed to have forgotten what a naughty boy he had been. '_I_ hard to suit? Not at all. If the toast _is_ a little too brown, I don't mind it. Give it to me, Margaret.'

"'I threw it away,' said the cook.

"'Oh, well, I'm in no hurry; I will wait while you make me another piece.'

"'My fire has gone out,' said the cook.

"'Well, you can re-light it, can't you?'

"'Do you think I have nothing to do but to wait upon you?' cried the cook. 'You know nothing ever suits you; and you always speak rudely to me;' and she flounced out of the room.

"'How _can_ she say so, mamma?' cried Arthur. '_I_ speak rudely to her? Why, I was as polite as ever I could be. It is too bad!'

"'Servants find it very hard to attend upon you, Arthur. They are accustomed to polite treatment from the rest of us.'

"'Well--but mamma--to accuse me to-day, when it was _she_ who'--

"'Was indulging in ILL-TEMPER,' interrupted his mother.

"_Arthur understood_, and was silent.

"The hour for his grammar lesson had now arrived. The tutor bowed to Arthur's mother, smiled, and commenced:

"'Do you _know_ your lessons, my young friend?'

"'I have studied them, sir.'

"'Do you _know_ them? It is of little consequence that you have studied them, if you do not know them.'

"'I believe I do, sir.'

"'Well, let us see--begin.'

"'In the _tenses_,' began Arthur a little embarrassed, 'we should distinguish the _moods_ and the verbs.'

"'Nonsense! you should have said, "In the _verbs_ we should distinguish the moods and the tenses."'

"'Yes, sir, that is what I _meant_ to say; I knew that, but my tongue slipped.'

"'Your tongue slips very often. Continue'--

"Arthur, still more embarrassed, said--'We should also distinguish the _moods_ and the persons.'

"'You must be demented! What have the moods to do in that sentence? Perhaps you are expecting a visit from the man in the moon, and that makes you talk such nonsense. The grammar says--"We should distinguish the _numbers_ and the persons." Your tongue does nothing but slip; you do not know your lesson.'

"'Excuse me, sir; I do know it.'

"'You are not respectful, Master Arthur,' said the teacher in a cold, severe tone.

"'But, sir'--

"'When a boy knows his lesson he does not make such abominable blunders in reciting.'

"'But, sir, you troubled me; you put me out.'

"'_I_ trouble you? A very singular excuse, and a very poor one. Come, let me look at your composition.'

"But here matters became worse and worse. The master 'pshawed,' and frowned, and grumbled to himself. 'No application! no thought! bad spelling! bad grammar! a perfect mass of faults!'

"Arthur grew red and pale by turns, as his teacher wrote right across the page in large letters: 'A composition so badly done, that it is impossible to correct it.'

"Then he rose coldly, looking very grim, took his hat, and addressing Arthur's mother, said--'Madam, I cannot consent to teach your son any longer; I have so little success, that I feel I have no right to the very liberal salary you have accorded me. Another, perhaps, will do better.'

"'Oh, sir! no! pray, don't go!' exclaimed Arthur; 'I will try to do better! indeed, I will! upon my word and honor I will. I love you, sir!'

"A pleasant light suddenly came into the teacher's eyes, and a soft smile passed like lightning over his lips.

"'Do, please, give me your hand, sir,' said Arthur, 'and promise me that you will continue to teach me.'

"His broad, black eyebrows immediately contracted into a great frown; and he said gruffly--'Very well, I will try you once more,' and left the room.

"For a few moments there was silence; then a distressed expression came over Arthur's face, as he said--'Mamma, my teacher was very--(he was at a loss for a word) very _singular_ with me to-day--don't you think so, mamma?'

"'What do you mean by _singular_?'

"'Why, not as he usually is--not at all.'

"'His reproofs seemed perfectly just to me; you were not perfect in your lessons.'

"'Well, mamma, I do not deny that; but at all other times he has been so kind and patient, and never treated me with such unexpected severity.'

"'Ah!' said his mother, 'I am afraid, then, that this morning he was indulging in ILL TEMPER.'

"Arthur hung his head, and was silent: his conscience was busy whispering to him, and the rest of the morning passed painfully; but after luncheon, he prepared for a walk with joy, for the day was lovely, and the air exhilarating.

"But all at once the sky became overcast, and very soon after the rain fell in torrents.

"'Oh, dear me, how tiresome!' cried Arthur, 'just when I am going to take a walk; it is perfectly hateful.'

"'God sends the rain,' said his mother, gently.

"Arthur hung his head again without answering. What could he say, indeed? But with his new resolution strong in his mind, he determined to bear this disappointment with patience; and he called Jumbo to play with him.

"But the cat, usually so quick to come purring to his knee, remained just where he was, as if he had been suddenly struck deaf, and dumb, and blind. Arthur went to him, and tried to take him in his arms; but he hissed at his playmate, and scampered away with his back and tail high in the air, and hid under the sofa.

"'Ah me!' sighed Arthur, 'I suppose Jumbo is like the rest; he is indulging in ILL TEMPER, too.'

"'Not quite that,' observed his mother; 'but animals have _memories_.'

"'I think you had better say that they are spiteful, mamma.'

"'Perhaps they are, my son; but they have no reason, while _we_ are capable of controlling our impatience, and governing our passions, if we ask God to help us.'

"Upon this Arthur fairly broke down; and, bursting into tears, sobbed out--'Oh, dear mamma, I understand the lesson I have received from every one to-day. Do believe that I will try with all my strength to conquer my ill temper: I promise you. Do, please mamma, forgive me.'

"His mother wound her loving arms around her son, and tenderly kissed him, and said--'I forgive you, my dear child, with all my heart, and we will both pray to our Heavenly Father to send down His Holy Spirit to guide and direct your efforts to do right. You have borne your disappointments to-day with patience and resignation; and I feel that you will soon be the good, sweet-tempered boy, you were a year ago.'

"Arthur kept his promise, and whenever he was tempted to give a cross answer, or get in a passion, he was sure to remember in time the celebrated day when everybody, by his mother's instructions, attempted his cure, by showing him, in their own persons, the unlovely consequences of indulging in

ILL TEMPER."

* * * * *

"What a nice story!" exclaimed the children, "and what a good way of curing Arthur--better than a hundred whippings. When we do any thing bad, mamma, you must punish us Aunt Fanny's way. Couldn't you punish us for something now?"

The little mother laughed at this comical request, and said--"I can't think of any thing just now to punish you for; and I hope you don't want to do any thing naughty on purpose."

"O dear, no!" cried the children, but George, with a good-humored twinkle in his eye, added--"At any rate, mamma, the next time Harry puts salt into the sugar-bowl, and makes me spoil my coffee, I intend to put powdered sugar into the salt-cellar for him to sprinkle over his stewed oysters."

"Oh, do!" cried all the children; "only think of oysters and sugar! perfectly dreadful!"

"'Well,' said Harry, laughing, 'I shall have to buy a snuff-box, then, and keep it in my pocket full of salt.'

"'But don't forget yourself,' said Anna, 'and politely offer a pinch of it to the first old lady you meet; she might think you meant to play a trick upon her, you know.'

"'What an idea!' cried Harry; 'I wouldn't do such a thing; I should think it would make her sneeze worse than any snuff. Wouldn't it?'

"'The best way to find that out,' said George, with a roguish smile, 'would be to take a good pinch yourself.'

"While this conversation had been going on, little Johnny had disappeared in the pantry; and now, at this very moment, he came out, screaming: 'Oh! my nose hurts! my nose hurts!' and ran to his mother.

"It seems that, anxious to find out what kind of snuff salt would make, he had privately walked into the pantry, and had snuffed and poked quite a quantity into his poor little nose, and now it smarted as if twenty hornets had stung him at once; and he jumped up and down with the pain.

"They had a great time soaking his nose in warm water, and felt very sorry for him, though they could not, for their lives, help laughing when George said that Johnny had salted and pickled his nose so well, that it would keep in the hottest weather; at any rate, it would last him as long as he lived; which comforted Johnny very much, for he thought that it might have to be cut off to get the salt out.

"After this they bid everybody good night, and went to bed, and Johnny said he felt 'pretty _compertuffle_.' His mother had told him that 'good little Henry,' of whom you have read, always said 'compertuffle' for 'comfortable,' and Johnny thought it was just the right word to express his feelings."

THE FIFTH LETTER.

THE ROSE CROWN.

_For Clara._

DEAR, TENDER-HEARTED LITTLE CLARA:--In the olden time, there was a beautiful superstition in Germany, that on Christmas eve our Saviour, just as he was when a little child here below, comes at midnight in at the door, and fills all those children's shoes with gifts, who have followed His example of goodness and obedience. You know that _you_ hang up your _stockings_, and Santa Claus comes down the chimney; but the little German children believe that they are far more blessed. It is a beautiful idea, for it brings Him, who for our sakes became a little child on earth, more closely and lovingly to the children's hearts. They grow up sure of His love and sympathy, from infancy to old age.

I have asked Sarah ("the doctor") to write me another story after the German fashion, on purpose for you. She has given me this "Rose Crown;" and the story turns upon the sweet and solemn belief of the German children.

You will perceive that the little Gottfried in the story thought of this with such intensity, and with such perfect faith in its truth, as to cause him to walk in his sleep, like a somnambulist. No doubt your dear mother can tell you many strange and extraordinary stories of somnambulists, who do the most wonderful and startling things while in this kind of trance state, of which they are utterly unconscious when they awake.

I hope this story will please my dear little Clara; it is called

THE ROSE CROWN.

"It was Christmas eve, and a cold winter's day. The flakes of snow fell softly and thickly, and had already covered the earth with a white cloak.

"At one of the windows of the large house that stands on the top of the hill, where the purple violets first peep out in the spring-time, stood the little Gottfried and his sister Marie.

"'Only look, dear Marie,' said Gottfried, 'how fast the snow falls! What large flakes! They look like little milk-white doves.'

"'It is the Mother Holle shaking her feather-beds,' cried Marie, laughing; and looking up towards the sky, and beckoning with her hand, she sang--

"'Mother Holle,
Good wife Holle,
Fill the meadows fair and full:
Stay not, pause not,
Shake away,
Make the snow fall fast to-day.'

"'Oh! I can sing a prettier song than thine,' said Gottfried. 'Listen, now. The good wife Katarine taught it to me;' and he sang--

"'See the snow-flakes,
Merry snow-flakes!
How they fall from yonder sky,
Coming lightly, coming sprightly,
Dancing downwards, from on high.
Faint or tire, will they never,
Wheeling round and round forever.
Surely nothing do I know,
Half so merry as the snow;
Half so merry, merry, merry,
As the dancing, glancing snow.

"'See the snow-flakes,
Solemn snow-flakes!
How they whiten, melt and die.
In what cold and shroud-like masses
O'er the buried earth they lie.
Lie as though the frozen plain
Ne'er would bloom with flowers again.
Surely nothing do I know,
Half so solemn as the snow,
Half so solemn, solemn, solemn,
As the falling, melting snow.'

"'Ah! thy song is sad, brother,' said little Marie: 'it makes me sigh.'

"As she spoke, a little boy, poorly clad, was seen coming up the avenue; and Gottfried exclaimed--'Here comes Heinrich!' and running out of the room, he presently returned, leading by the hand Heinrich, the little faggot-maker, whose mother, a poor but pious widow, lived in a hut just out of the village.

"'Why, Heinrich, where hast thou been this cold day?' asked Marie.

"'Taking my faggots to Herr Kaufferman's,' said the poor boy. 'But oh, Gottfried, they have there the most beautiful Christmas Tree!' and then Heinrich paused and sighed.

"'And to-night the dear Christkindchen, or Holy Child, will bring them presents,' said Gottfried. 'I hope he will fill _thy_ shoes full.'[A]

"'Alas! the Christ-child never comes to me,' said Heinrich.

"'What! hast thou never heard how he comes at midnight, bearing a lighted taper and a crown of white roses, and gives presents to all the good children?'

"'My mother has told me of this,' said Heinrich, 'and I have waited and watched, but he _never_ comes! He never _will_ come. It was only yesterday that I met Hans, the butcher's son, and he mocked me, and snapped his fingers in my face, and said--"Thou art so poor, that thy shoes will never have any thing in them;" and I was so angry, and wanted to strike him, but my mother said I must never fight or quarrel with any one, and I went away from him; but it is hard to be poor,' and here he began to cry.

"'Ah! yes, it is sad, dear Heinrich; but do not weep; here, wipe thine eyes with my new pocket-handkerchief. Come, now, be happy; and I will pray to the Christ-child, and beg him to come this very night to thee.'

"At this the little faggot-maker's face brightened, and soon after he went away.

"In the evening, the children had their supper, and soon after they stood by the knee of their kind mother, and sang this hymn:

"Jesus, our Shepherd! we ask for thy blessing,
Through the long hours of this dreary night;
Let us not know (thy kind favor possessing)
Danger or sorrow, till morning is bright.

"Jesus, our Saviour! oh! grant thy protection,
To thy dear arms we have trustingly come;
Oh, Lamb of God! make secure our election,
Guard us, and keep us, and call us thine own.

"Jesus, our Crown! Oh, thou Heavenly Glory!
Humbly we kneel, and entreat thee to love,
Bless and receive us, as in Bible story,
Till we shall come to thy mansion above."

"When they had finished the hymn, they reverently repeated their prayers; and then, each bidding the other good night and sweet dreams, went to their white-curtained beds.

"Later at night, their mother came to see that they were warm. Gottfried was still awake; he was troubled about little Heinrich; and he told his mother how the poor boy had grieved because the Christ-child never came to him. 'I have prayed to Him, dear mother; do you think He will hear me?' said the tender-hearted boy.

"'Yes, dear child,' said the mother, 'dost thou not remember what the hymn says?

"'And when, dear Jesus, I kneel down,
Morning and night to prayer,
Something there is within my heart,
Which tells me THOU ART THERE."

"'He works sometimes through _human_ hands; and now look thou, my little Gottfried,' continued his mother, kissing him, 'I will make this night a wreath of white roses for thee, and fasten a purse about the stems, with some golden guilders within, and thou shalt take it to Heinrich to-morrow morning.'

"'Ah, thou dearest mother!' cried Gottfried, joyfully, and the loving kisses were pressed upon her cheek. 'The dear Jesus has heard me already;' and kneeling in the bed, he poured out his grateful thanks; and then lying down, he soon fell asleep, with a bright flush of happiness upon his face.

* * * * *

"The snow had ceased to fall, and it was late, but still in the widow's cottage the fitful fire-light (for candles there were none) showed her bending over some work. By her side on the hearth crouched the little Heinrich.

"'Go to bed, dear child,' said his mother; 'it is too late for thee.'

"'Ah, dear mother! let me wait for thee,' answered the boy; 'it is so cold and dark in our little room above.' He was silent for a moment, gazing into the fire in a wishful manner; then he said--'Mother, dost thou think the Christ-child will indeed hear Gottfried's prayer, and come to me and thee?'

"'I hope he will, my Heinrich,' said the sad mother, smiling faintly.

"'Ah, but mother, dost thou not _know_ it?'

"The fire burned low, and the poor woman could no longer see. She put up the coarse sewing with a sigh, and resting her hand tenderly on her boy's head, sat quite still.

"Not a sound was heard. The light in the room was dim, and gloom had settled upon the hearts of both mother and child.

"Hark! what was that?

"A low tap sounded at the door, and then it slowly opened; and to the astonished gaze of the two sitting by the hearth, there appeared the figure of a little child. A snow-white robe draped his slender limbs. In one hand he bore a lighted taper, and in the other a most beautiful wreath of white roses. His dark blue eyes shone with an unearthly lustre, as it appeared to the amazed and bewildered Heinrich, and his golden curls floated upon his shoulders.

"'Oh! mother! mother!' whispered Heinrich, almost breathless, 'it is the Christ-child in very truth come to me at last. His face is like Gottfried's--only far more beautiful;' and mother and son sank on their knees.

"Slowly the little form advanced towards them, paused before Heinrich, lightly placed the rose crown upon his head, and then, the sweet lips parting in a faint, tender smile, it waved its little hand towards him, and disappeared from their sight.

"When they could speak, the mother and son bowed their heads in thankful prayer, then lifted their brimming eyes to each other.

"'Truly thou hast been wondrously rewarded, my Heinrich,' said the poor widow; 'give the beautiful crown to me, that I may see what the dear Christ-child has brought to thee.'

"She stirred the fire, and put on some light wood to make a blaze, and then Heinrich lifted the crown from his head. As he did so--oh! wonder! there fell from it a silken purse, and through the deep crimson network they could see the yellow gleam of gold.

* * * * *

"With the early blush of morning little Gottfried awoke, and the first thing he did was to run smilingly to the door to find his shoes. There they were, in good truth, crammed to the very top with presents. Marie, too, awoke at the moment, and from each little white bed there arose delighted exclamations and merry shouts of joy.

"Now their mother entered, and said--'A merry Christmas to you, my children.'

"With joyful kisses they welcomed her, and breathlessly showed her their gifts; then Gottfried exclaimed--'Oh! mother! I have had such a pleasant dream; I dreamed that the dear Christ-child went to Heinrich with the wreath, and gave it to him.'

"'Well, thou shalt take it thyself this morning, dear child, when thou hast eaten thy breakfast.'

"But what was this? Where could the wreath be? The good mother, faithful to her promise had made it the evening before, and had laid it on the table in the parlor, but it was not to be found.

"This loss put the little Gottfried in such distress, that his mother promised quickly to make another; and she was just preparing to hasten out to purchase the roses, when Heinrich ran in, his mother following; and, scarcely pausing for breath, the boy told the wonderful thing that had happened to them in the night.

"With a sudden understanding of the strange and beautiful story, Gottfried's mother took Heinrich's mother aside, and whispered to her how the rose crown had mysteriously disappeared from the house in the night.

"The two mothers gazed into each other's faces, and then looked with love and wonder at the little unconscious Gottfried. Tender tears and smiles struggled in their faces, for they knew in a moment that it was he who had risen in his sleep, had taken the rose crown to Heinrich, and had laid his head upon his pillow again without waking.

"When they gently and tenderly told the strange tale to the wondering children, Heinrich, bursting into tears, threw his arms passionately round Gottfried's neck, and sobbed out--'Oh! Gottfried! how thou must have loved me to have done this thing, even while sleeping;' and the grateful boy never forgot it. He kept his crown of roses as his dearest treasure, though they soon became withered and brown; and Gottfried and Heinrich were always friends, though one was rich and the other poor; and each mother loved and blessed the child of the other even as her own."

[NOTE.--This story was suggested by reading about
Christmas in Germany, in Bayard Taylor's "Views
Afoot."]

* * * * *

"A--h!" sighed the children, when the story was finished; "this is the best of all! How those two German boys must have loved each other ever after."

"Gottfried must have been almost as good as Charley," said Clara, with a glance full of love towards her brother. The little girl, with her sweet, sensitive nature, and gentle, caressing ways, seemed closer to Charley than the rest, though he loved all his brothers and sisters with his whole heart; but Clara was softer and tenderer, and murmured out her love in such a dove-like way, that, next to his mother, the sick boy liked to have her smooth his hair, and hold his hand, and kneel by his side in prayer; and the rest of the children knew this, and lovingly gave Clara "her place." Not a shade of envy, that black and wicked passion, ever entered their hearts; for, as I have many times written, this was the home of LOVE.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] In Germany, they fill the children's shoes instead of their stockings.

THE SIXTH LETTER.

THE HUNT FOR A STEAMBOAT.

_To Johnny._

DEAR LITTLE JOHNNY:--I have heard such a cunning little story about two little children that live in New York, that I have written it out for you; I shall begin it, "Once upon a time"--the way you like best. Here it is:

THE HUNT FOR A STEAMBOAT.

"Once upon a time little Harry was playing in the parlor, and his kind mother was reading. Presently the door opened, and a lady entered, holding by the hand the dearest little bit of a girl you ever saw, about three years old, with such sweet blue eyes and soft curling hair, that she looked almost like a fairy.

"Harry's mother was very glad to see the lady; she kissed her and little Nannie, and made them sit on the very best sofa, and Harry kissed Nannie, and everybody seemed very much pleased.

"After saying what a very fine day it was, just as all the grown people do when they begin to talk, Nannie's mamma began to tell Harry's mamma something very wonderful, when, all at once, they saw Harry's eyes opened about as big round as a pair of saucers, and a dozen ears seemed to have sprouted out all over his head; and he was listening to the wonderful story with every one of them.

"Harry's mamma thought that would never do, and she said--'My son, Nannie's mamma and I want to talk secrets, and it is not right for such a little boy as you to hear them; so take the dear little girl out of the room, and show her every thing she wants to see. Mind, dear! _show her every thing_.'