Read Allis Family; or, Scenes of Western Life Page 3


  THE BABY.

  How tired every one was all day after the prairie-fire! Well would it havebeen if the matter had terminated in fatigue. Early in the day the feeblemother had to betake herself to her bed; and on the following morning Mr.Allis, to his great surprise, found himself rudely shaken by the ague. Notmany days passed ere Mrs. Allis and Mary found themselves at the mercy ofthe same annoying visitor. Sometimes the three shook in concert; and thenyou may imagine that the little girls had enough to do to carry water tosatisfy their thirst. Occasionally the chills would seem to be broken upfor a few days, and then they would most unexpectedly return. Several timesMr. Allis thought himself perfectly well, and once or twice he went to thegrove a number of miles distant, with his team, for a load of wood, and onthe way there or back would be attacked with a chill, and it was only by agreat effort that he reached home. The little girls were quite well; butthey did not find their prairie home as pleasant in the cold winter as itwas in the glad summer-time. Oh, how they longed for spring! And when itcame how they rejoiced over the little lambs and calves in their father'syard, and how delighted were they when the first sweet violets peepedforth! Still their joy was to be increased: a sweeter prairie-flower thanany of these bloomed in their humble cabin, opening a fount of untoldgladness in the hearts of all. One bright morning a sweet little sister waspresented to the delighted children.

  It was long before they could be made to realize that it was their own dearbabe, and always to be theirs and to stay with them. At last theyrecovered themselves sufficiently to ask its name.

  "It has no name, Annie," said her father.

  "Oh, mother! mother!" cried the enthusiastic Susie, "let us call it_Love!_"

  What a blessing that little unconscious one was to all beneath that lowlyroof! Annie and Susie would sit beside its little cradle and watch it forhours; and if permitted to hold the tiny creature for a few moments theywere never weary of caressing her. Daily and almost hourly they discoveredsome new beauty or perfection in the dear object of their most tenderregard, and the day of her birth was made an era in the house; for almostevery thing that was spoken of was said to have taken place either so longbefore or so long after the _Baby came_.

  At length a school was opened about a mile distant, and the parents thoughtbest that the little girls should have the advantage of attending itthrough the summer. At first they were quite reluctant to go; for they werestrangers still to the children around them, and the young lady who taughtthem they had never seen until they met her among her pupils. After a fewdays they became very fond of their school and their young playmates, andthe only drawback to their happiness was leaving the little darling Maryfor so many long hours every day. But it was soon evident that they learnedsome _evil_ things as well as _good_ things. They grew less willing tosubmit to the gentle control of their parents, and were quite inclined tothink the rules under whose influence they had been educated werealtogether _too strict_, fortifying their occasional remonstrances with"Mary Jones says so," or "Fanny Adams thinks so." This gave theiraffectionate parents much solicitude and pain.

  One evening the little girls came home with a petition that they might "goto school barefooted," and, as usual for the last few weeks, Susie said,"All the girls go without shoes."

  "That, my child, is no reason why _you_ should do so if we prefer youshould wear your shoes."

  "But, mother, it is so warm!" said Annie.

  "What would you have thought, Annie, if I had told you to go to schoolbarefooted while we lived in Massachusetts?"

  "All the girls wore shoes and stockings there, mother."

  "But was it not quite as warm there as here, my child?"

  "I suppose so; but, mother, all the girls and boys laugh at us so. They saywe are 'proud,' because we wear shoes and stockings."

  "You must not mind being laughed at when you are doing right."

  "But I can't see what wrong there is in going barefooted," said Annie.

  "You are not now required to see the harm in it. All you have to do in thiscase is to obey."

  "But won't you tell us _why_, mother?" persisted Susie.

  "No, children, I shall not now tell you _why_. I have my reasons; and youmust _trust_ me now, and wait for an explanation until some future time."

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