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XV.
_THE SNOW._
THESE were indeed pleasant times, and very happy children were ourMaggie and Bessie. The only trouble was that night would come, and putan end to first one and then another of these delightful days, andthat, as Maggie said, they had to stop enjoying themselves "just to goto sleep."
"I wish the sun always shone in this country," she said, "and thatnight never, never came."
"What would the little children on the other side of the world say tothat?" said papa. "If you had the ruling of day and night, and kept thesun all the time on one side, how do you think they would like to haveit always night?"
"Oh! I did not think about that," said Maggie. "I suppose it would bepretty selfish. I guess I had better wish for two suns, one on ourside, and one on theirs."
"Or, better still, rest satisfied that our heavenly Father has orderedall things, night and day, sun, moon, and stars, as is best for his ownglory and the happiness and comfort of all his creatures," said Mr.Bradford. "I think even my wide-awake Maggie would tire of the light ofthe sun if it should shine for the twenty-four hours, day after day,and the quiet, blessed night never come, when we might close our tiredeyes, and take the rest we need."
"Could we not sleep in the day-time if we were tired, papa?"
"We might sleep, but not as well or as pleasantly as we now do whenall is dark and quiet."
"Then if I was to wish for two suns, I'd better wish we should never betired or sleepy."
"So you might go on wishing forever, and if you had the power, changingfirst one and then another of the wise laws which our Father in heavenhas made for the good of all. And what distress and confusion thiswould make! What a miserable, unhappy world this would be if you,or some other weak, human creature who cannot see the end from thebeginning, and cannot tell what would be the consequence of his wishes,were allowed such power. No, we may thank God, not only that he doeswhat is best for us, but also that he has allowed none but himself tobe the judge of this."
"So I had better be contented to have the night as it is, papa; isthat what you mean? Perhaps other people would not like to have thingsas I did, and they might think I was a very disagreeable child to havethem my way; and I should not like that at all."
"I would not be glad if there was never any night," said Bessie, whowas always more ready than her sister to go to rest.
"Then I wont wish it," said Maggie; "and I shall just always try tothink 'our Father' knows best, even if I don't feel quite suitedmyself."
One afternoon, about dark, it began to snow, much to the children'sdelight; for grandmamma had promised a sleigh-ride whenever it shouldbe possible. All night the soft, feathery flakes fell gently andsteadily, so that in the morning the ground was covered thickly with abeautiful white mantle.
Since the weather had become cold, each day, after breakfast, Maggieand Bessie were allowed to throw out crumbs for the sparrows andchickadees, who came about the house to find something to eat. Thebirds seemed to know the hour almost as well as the children, andseldom came for their breakfast before the right time. But on thismorning the little girls were scarcely down-stairs, when their brothercalled them to come and see what a flock of their pets had alreadygathered on the piazza and window-ledge. For the ground being allcovered with snow, there were no stray crumbs or seeds to be found;and the chickadees and sparrows, being early risers, found themselveshungry and in need of their regular breakfast rather sooner thanusual; and now the prints of their tiny feet were to be seen all overthe snow, while twice the ordinary number of birds hopped about thepiazza, or perched upon the railing and window-ledge, chirping away,twitching their little heads from side to side, and watching thechildren with their bright, twinkling eyes as if asking what made themso late.
Away ran Maggie to ask Patrick for a piece of bread, and came back witha rush and a jump and a sudden shove at the window which put everymother's bird of them to flight. In her hurry to feed them, she quiteforgot that they were so easily startled, and was much distressed whenshe saw them all flying off in a great fright.
However, the bread was crumbled and thrown out; and by the time prayerswere over, the whole flock were back again, pecking away with muchsatisfaction, and twittering and chirping as if they were telling eachother what very kind people lived in this house, and how thankful theyshould be for such good friends. At least, this was what Maggie toldFranky they meant, as he watched them with his chubby face pressedclose against the window-pane.
"No shoes and stottins," said he. "Poor birdies! Dere foots too told.Mamma buy shoe for birdies."
His little sisters thought this very sweet and funny in Franky, andthey hugged and kissed him till he thought he had said something veryfine, and kept repeating it over and over again.
Pretty soon it stopped snowing, and the sun came out. Then Maggie andBessie were much amused in watching the people clearing the snow fromthe sidewalks, and the boys snow-balling one another. Presently Mrs.Bradford missed Franky from the room. As she had the baby, she couldnot go after him, but sent Maggie.
She ran from room to room, but could not find her little brother. Whenshe opened the nursery door, and put in her head, she rather wonderedto see the bureau-drawers open, and several things lying scattered overthe floor; but she did not think much about it, for there was no onethere, and she must find Franky. As she went down-stairs again, shesaw the back-door was standing open, and went to shut it. Here she metFranky coming in with very rosy cheeks, and his face all smiles, as ifhe were well pleased with himself.
"Oh, Franky!" said Maggie, "what made you go out in the cold with nohat and coat? Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"Yes," said Franky.
"Then why didn't you come?"
"Me too busy," said the little boy; and away he ran into the parlor,while Maggie went to shut the door. To her great surprise, she sawthe piazza strewn with shoes and stockings,--her own, Bessie's, andFranky's, and even a pair or two of baby's little worsted socks. Shecame in, and followed Franky.
"Franky," said Mrs. Bradford, "did you not hear mamma calling?"
"Yes'm," said he again, "but me too busy."
"But you must always come right away when mamma calls. What were youdoing?"
"Me dave de birdies shoes and stottins," said Franky; "dere foots tootold."
Then Maggie told her mother what Franky had done, and nurse coming injust then, Mrs. Bradford sent her to see. Sure enough, the little roguehad gone up-stairs, and filling his skirt with his own and his sisters'shoes and stockings, had scattered them upon the piazza, thinking thatthe birds could make use of them. Maggie and Bessie thought this a mostcapital joke, and even nurse, who was much displeased, could not helpsmiling as she heard their merry peals of laughter. Mamma did not scoldFranky, for she did not think he meant to do anything naughty, but shetold him he must never do so again, and that the birds did not needshoes and stockings to keep their feet warm.
"But, mamma," said Maggie, "how is it the birds do not have their feetfrozen in the snow and the cold? If we were to go hopping about withbare feet, it would hurt very much, and we would be sick; but thesparrows do not mind it at all."
"Because God has fitted them, dear, as he has all his creatures, forthe life which he means them to lead. He has given to the sparrowsand chickadees, not soft, tender feet like yours, but horny claws onwhich they can hop over the snow and gravel without feeling the cold,or being hurt. See by this how he has cared for all he has made; thesmallest or weakest bird or animal is known and watched over by hisall-seeing eye. When our Saviour was on earth, he chose these littlebirds to teach us a most precious lesson. Once when he was talking tohis disciples, after telling them that they were to fear God, and notman, he wished to show them how constant and watchful was God's careof his people, and he said, 'Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing?and one of them shall not fall to the ground without your Father. Butthe very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore; yeare of more va
lue than many sparrows.' A Roman farthing was less than acent and a half, so that one of these sparrows cost less than a penny,and this was meant to teach us that if each of these little birds whichwas worth so small a sum is known and remembered by the Almighty; ifnot one of them can fall and die unless he sees it, how great must behis care and love for us, whom he has called 'of more value than manysparrows,' and for whom he gave his only Son to die upon the cross. Itis a very sweet and comforting thought to know that he never forgetsus, and that no harm can come near us, unless he knows and permits it."
"And it ought to make us think that he sees what we are doing, andknows if we are even a little bit naughty. Ought it not, mamma?" saidBessie.
"Yes, darling, and it should make us very careful not to grieve ordisplease him by even a wicked thought or angry feeling."
"'Cause when he sees it, he thinks we are ungrateful about his Jesus,"said the thoughtful little Bessie.
This was Saturday and a holiday, when the children had no lessons, andthe boys did not go to school; and about twelve o'clock Harry and Fredcame in with Tom Norris, Walter Stone, and Johnny Ransom; they were allfour going into the yard to build a snow-man, and Harry begged thathis sisters might go, too, saying that he and Fred would take care ofthem. Mamma had no doubt of this, and she said Maggie might go, but shewas afraid to have Bessie play in the snow, lest she should take cold.Maggie said she would not go if her sister might not; but Bessie toldher to go, and she would stand at the library-window and watch them attheir work. Maggie still hesitated, but her mother said she would seethat her sister did not feel lonely while she was gone, and havingbeen well wrapped up, she at last went with the boys.
To say that Bessie was not disappointed and did not very much wish thatshe, too, might have a share in the delightful play, would not be true.But though a tear came into her eye as she saw the others run off, shebore it bravely.
"Mamma, you would be sure to let me go if you thought it best; wouldn'tyou?" she asked, lifting her face to her mother to be kissed.
"Indeed, I would, my sweet child; you may be certain mamma would nevertake from you any pleasure she thought safe for you; but it would bewrong and foolish in me to let you go when you would probably take coldand be sick. And now what shall we do to amuse ourselves. If you liketo stand by the window and see the boys, I will bring my work and tellyou a story, or we will sit by the fire, and I will read to you."
Bessie chose the first, for she said that would be two pleasures at onetime.
When Mrs. Bradford came back with her work-basket, Bessie was standingon a chair by the window, and she turned to her mother with a verybright face.
"Mamma," she said, "come and see what a nice time Maggie is having. Ithink I am 'most glad you didn't let me go, 'cause if I was playingmyself, I could not see how much she 'joys herself. Just hear herlaugh!" and Bessie laughed merrily herself.
Mamma stooped and kissed her sweet-tempered, generous little daughter,who, instead of fretting and making herself and others miserablebecause she could not do as she wished, not only contented herself withthe pleasures which were left to her, but really tried to find comfortin her very disappointment.
Maggie did indeed seem to be enjoying herself. The boys had begun theirsnow-man, but she found that rather hard work, and, having asked leave,was snow-balling her playfellows with all her might. She was not veryapt to hit them, for her small hands could not take very sure aim inher thick worsted mittens; but whenever she missed her mark, she becameonly more eager, and, hit or miss, her gleeful laugh rang out all thesame. Mrs Bradford found that no story was needed; so engaged wasBessie in watching the frolicsome antics of her sister, that she hadno thought of anything else. In the height of her play, Maggie did notforget every few moments to stop and kiss her hand and nod and smile atthe two dear faces in the library-window. When her mother thought shehad been out long enough, she called her in, and she came all glowingand rosy with her play in the fresh, cold air.
"Tom says the sleighing is splendid. I hope grandmamma wont forget us."
"No fear of that," said mamma; and she had scarcely spoken when AuntAnnie's smiling face appeared at the door.
"Well, little polar-bear, where did you come from?" she asked, takinghold of the bundle of furs and wrappings which called itself Maggie.
"Out of the icebergs to eat you up," growled Maggie, pretending to bethe bear Aunt Annie had called her.
"Very well, sir, I suppose you have a good appetite since you have comeso far; but, of course, if I am eaten up, you cannot expect my motherto go sleigh-riding with the fellow that has made a meal upon herchild."
When Maggie heard this, she declared that she was no longer apolar-bear, but just Aunt Annie's own little niece, who would not eather up even if she were starving, and whom it was quite safe to takesleigh-riding. Both she and Bessie were wild with delight. They couldscarcely eat their dinner, and the moment it was over, ran away to thenursery to be dressed for the ride.
When the sleigh came to the door, Aunt Annie said she had twopolar-bears to ride with her, and pretended to be quite alarmed. Butboth the bears proved to be very well-behaved, and neither bit norscratched; although they did now and then hug a little as they sat, theone between mamma and grandmamma, and the other between Aunt Annie andAunt Helen; for Aunt Helen had come from Riverside to make her mother avisit and to stay till after Christmas.
"We are to have a Christmas tree, Aunt Helen," said Maggie.
"And all our people are to come," said Bessie.
"We have a great deal to do yet," said Maggie. "There are a great manypresents to buy, and Christmas will be here one week from yesterday,mamma said so. Aunt Annie, you said you would take us shopping forthose things mamma is not to know about."
"Very well," said Aunt Annie, laughing. "I suppose I may as well giveup Monday to it, if your mother will let you go."
Mamma was quite willing it should be so, if the weather were fine.The things which she was not to know about were her own, and papa'sChristmas presents. The book-marks were all worked. Those for Coloneland Mrs Rush were quite finished and laid away; but the two whichwere intended for papa and mamma still wanted the ribbon, and this wasone of the things to be bought. Then Maggie was to buy some triflefor papa, and Bessie one for mamma. They were not trifles to them,however, but very great and important purchases, and there was a greatdeal of whispering and hiding in corners. It was rather a singularcircumstance, but one which was very convenient, that mamma never askedwhat they were doing, or even seemed to see that they were engaged withsome work in which she was not asked to help.
They had a lovely drive. All the sleighs and cutters in the city seemedto have turned out for the first fine sleighing; and the air was fullof the jingling of the merry bells, and the shouts and laughter of theboys as they pelted each other with snow-balls, or went skimming alongon their sleds. The Central Park looked beautiful in its pure whitedress which lay so smoothly, just as it had fallen from the hand of thekind Father above; and Maggie said the trees and bushes thought whitefeathers were becoming, and so had dressed themselves out as if theywere going to a Christmas party.
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