X.
_MAGGIE’S POEM._
“Isn’t it a nice day, Maggie?” said Bessie, coming to her sister, whowas leaning with both arms on the railing which guarded the upper-deck,watching the flashing water, the magnificent mountains, the blue sky,and all the other beauties around and above her.
“Yes,” answered Maggie; “and we’re having such a nice sail, except forthat man. Bessie, my head is quite full of poetry about it.”
“Write some then,” said Bessie; “and we’ll send it to my soldier. He’llbe so pleased. I’ll ask papa for a pencil and some paper;” and shemade her request to her father, who let her take his memorandum-bookfor the purpose; and, furnished with this and excited by all thebeauty around, Maggie broke forth into the following verses, the firstof which was thought remarkably fine by Bessie and herself, as beingnot only extremely poetical, but also as containing a great deal ofreligious sentiment very touchingly expressed:--
“POEM ON A STEAMBOAT SAIL.
“I have so very many mercies, I have to write them down in verses; Because my heart in praise goes up For such a full and heaped-up cup.
“But, ah! ’tis my unhappy fate To see on board a man I hate: I know I should not be so mad; But he behaves so very bad.”
“‘Hate’ there only means ‘can’t bear,’” said Maggie, when she hadfinished this last verse and read it aloud to her sister: “but you see‘can’t bear’ don’t rhyme very well with ‘fate;’ and I want to put that,it is such a very poetical word, and sounds so very grown-up-y. I hadto put that verse about Mr. Temple for a relief to my feelings; and‘hate’ must be excused.”
“That first verse is lovely,” said Bessie. “It sounds so very nice;and, besides, it is so pious.”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “I thought I’d better begin with a little religionand gratitude. Besides, it was that made the poetry come into my ideas,Bessie. I was thinking how very good and grateful we ought to be, whenGod gives us such a very beautiful world to look at, and travel aboutin.”
“Yes,” said Bessie, putting her head on one side and giving her sistera look which expressed as much admiration and affection as a look coulddo, “yes: what a very smart, nice girl you are, Maggie!”
“You think so,” said Maggie; “but everybody don’t.”
“That’s they don’t know any better,” said Bessie, whose praise mighthave spoiled Maggie, if the latter had been at all vain and conceited.
“The second verse isn’t very pious,” said Maggie, looking at itdoubtfully; “but I guess I’ll leave it in.”
“And you can explain it to Uncle Horace when you write to him,” saidBessie. “But make some more, Maggie: your poetry is splendid.”
Thus encouraged, Maggie went on,--
“I look upon the blue, blue sky, That spreads above us there on high: Below, the water sparkles bright, And all around the land is light.
“The sun is shining, too, above, And whispers to us, ‘God is love!’ The moon, also, will shine to-night, And pretty stars will twinkle bright.”
“Oh, what lovely description you do make!” exclaimed Bessie, whenMaggie read these two verses.
“This world is all so beautiful, We should be very grateful; But then, you know, sometimes we’re not, And do forget our happy lot.”
“We’ll have to read gra-te-ful to make it come right with beautiful,”said Maggie, “but it sounds good enough.”
“Oh! it’s perfectly lovely,” said Bessie.
“Our father and our mother dear, Each sitting in a steamboat chair; Aunt Bessie too, the darling dear, And Uncle Ruthven sitting near.
“Oh! it doth make my heart rejoice To hear each loved and pleasant voice; And then I have my sisters sweet, Who with kind smiles me always greet.”
“What does ‘greet’ mean?” asked Bessie.
“It means something like welcome,” answered Maggie. “I can’t explainexactly; but I know it is a word poetry-writers use a great deal, and Ithought I had better put it in.”
Maggie wrote on,--
“And then I’ve lots of friends at home, From whom just now away I roam; I trust they’ll all be safe and sound When I again at home am found.”
“That is enough for to-day,” said Maggie “but I am going to make along poem out of it, and I’ll do some more another time. I s’poseNiagara will be a good thing to put in it. You know they say it issplendid.”
“What is ‘roam’?” asked Bessie, who must always inquire the meaning ofevery word she did not understand.
“To travel about. Just what we’re doing,” answered Maggie.
“Then why don’t you say travel? I think it’s the nicest word.”
“But it is not so uncommon,” said Maggie; “and you know when peoplewrite poetry they always put in all the uncommon words they can find.”
“Do they?” said Bessie, as if she did not quite approve of this rule.
“Yes, to be sure,” answered Maggie. “You know prose is just commontalking; but poetry is uncommon talking, and you have to make it soundas fine as you can, and put words you don’t use every day.”
“Oh!” said Bessie. “Well, if you have done, I guess we’d better givepapa back his book.”
Accordingly, the book was carried to papa, who had not had any ideathat Maggie’s poetical fancy would carry her so far, and who was rathersurprised to see several pages scribbled over with verses that werelined and interlined, scratched out and written over, in a manner whichdid not add to the beauty or neatness of the book.
However, he only laughed, and taking out his penknife carefully cut outthe scribbled leaves and gave them to the little poetess, who rolledthem up, and tying them round with a bit of twine, stowed them away inher satchel, till such time as she should be ready to copy and add tothem.
But she did not find leisure for this till they had been at Niagara fortwo or three days; and then, when she looked in her travelling-bag forthe precious poem, lo! it was gone! In vain did she and Bessie take outall the other contents from the satchel, shake it, and feel in eachcorner and pocket: no poem came to light, and great was the sorrowingover its loss.
“Then I s’pose I’ll never hear of it again,” said Bessie, regretfully,when mamma said she thought Maggie must have pulled it out with some ofthe other things her bag contained, and so dropped it, unseen.
But poor Maggie _was_ to hear of her poem again; to hear a little toomuch of it.
The two parties spent a week or more at Niagara Falls, visiting manya point of interest and beauty,--sometimes together, sometimes apart;now standing below the level of the Rapids, and looking backward attheir white foaming crests drawn sharply against the blue sky, asthe mad waters went whirling and rushing over the slope; now, in theearly morning, looking up to the top of the Great Fall, which shoneand flashed like jewels in the rays of the sun, the gray mist curlingbelow, and a glorious rainbow stretching from shore to shore; nowtaking the little steamer which plies to the foot of the cataract,into the very midst of the thick, blinding spray. Mamma did not thinkit best for Bessie to go on this expedition; but strong, hardy, littleMaggie was allowed to go, well wrapped in water-proof, and held fastin papa’s or Uncle Ruthven’s arms. On the whole, however, Maggie didnot enjoy this as much as she did the other excursions. In the firstplace, Bessie was not with her, and then she wanted to laugh at thedroll, miserable-looking figures about her, but would not do so, lestshe should “hurt their feelings, when they looked so very unhappy, andas if they wished they had not come.”
Then again they would pass over to some of the lovely little islands,which here and there break the rapids above the American Fall. Two ofthem, Ship and Brig Islands, had a special interest for the children,from their resemblance to ships under full sail. Even Bessie, who couldnever be persuaded to imagine any thing which she did not distinctlysee, noticed this, and said she felt almost sorry for them, for itseemed as if they were “real
live ships trying to sail out of thewaters that were hurrying them away so fast.”
Mr. Bradford and Mr. Stanton had gone over to Goat Island oneafternoon, taking the little girls with them. Here they were lyingand sitting under the overarching trees, looking at the Hermit’sCascade, and listening to the deep, never-ceasing voice of the greatcataract, when they were joined by the younger portion of the Maynardparty,--Kate and her brother, and Mr. and Miss Temple.
Maggie and Bessie had by this time taken Mr. Charlie Maynard intospecial favor, looking upon him with eyes nearly as friendly as thosewith which they regarded his sister; and they were glad to see bothhim and Kate. Miss Temple, too, a quiet, lady-like girl, they likedvery well, and did not object to her; but they could very well havedispensed with her brother’s society. However, he did not on thisoccasion seem at first disposed to prove teasing or troublesome, butstretched himself upon the grass, with his head supported on his armand his hat half over his eyes.
But, by and by, Mr. Bradford and Mr. Stanton, seeing an old friend ata little distance, went to speak to him; the former telling his littlegirls to remain where they were till he returned. They were scarcelyout of hearing, when George Temple, turning lazily over so as to faceMaggie, though he still kept his eyes shaded by his hat, said,--
“This is delightful! One could dream half one’s life away in thisenchanting place and in such pleasant company. Have we not a poet orpoetess among us to put it all into verse? What! no answer to the call?Then I shall have to try my hand at it.”
“You making verses!” said his sister, laughing, and playfully pullingthe brown locks which escaped from beneath his hat. “You makingverses! a lame style of poetry that would be, to be sure.”
“I don’t know,” said George. “Certainly I never appeared to have muchtalent that way; but no one can tell what he may be able to do when afitting time arrives. I feel on the present occasion like the giftedauthoress who says so touchingly,--
‘I have so very many mercies I have to write them down in verses.’”
Maggie started, and looked up from the little bunch of wild flowers shewas arranging to carry home to her mother.
Mr. Maynard and the young ladies laughed; and Charlie said,--
“What a gem! Who is your authoress?”
“She is Anon., I believe,” said George, sleepily. “She closes thecouplet with,--
‘Because my heart in praise goes up For such a full and heaped-up cup.’
Now I am in just such a frame of mind, and quite agree with her whenshe goes on to say,--
‘This world is all so beautiful, We should be very gra-te-ful; But then, you know, sometimes we’re not, And do forget our happy lot.’”
“George,” said Miss Temple, “how can you be so foolish?” but shelaughed again, and the others, too, went on laughing and joking himabout his “nonsense;” while poor Maggie sat,--with downcast-eyes,changing color, and beating heart,--listening intently to every wordher tormentor uttered, and wondering how much more pain he wouldput her through. As for Bessie, she had at first heard in wonderingsurprise those strangely familiar lines; but surprise soon changed tosympathy for her Maggie, and indignation against Mr. Temple.
Suddenly Kate turned her eyes towards the two little faces, and theexpression of both left no room for doubt as to who was the author ofthe unfortunate verses. Maggie was in an agony of embarrassment: toowell did Kate know the signs, and remember with shame how, not longsince, she herself had found as much amusement in them as George Templewas probably now doing, since he was taking so much pains to excitethem. But Kate had learned better, and had grown more thoughtful andconsiderate, more careful not to give pain to another for the sake ofa little passing enjoyment to herself. How cruel Mr. Temple’s teasingseemed to her now, and how she felt for Maggie!
For Bessie, too, who she saw was trying to keep down her rising temper,she was very sorry. She must come to the rescue in some way.
“I might have known from the first,” she said to herself, “that thosewere Maggie’s verses. They sound just like her,--just like her happy,grateful, little heart, always so ready and eager to give praise andgratitude where they are due. They are not bad for such a child,either; but I must help her out of this. Poor little Maggie!”
“There’s another sentiment of the talented writer, to which I shallalso say amen,” began Mr. Temple again,--
“‘And then I’ve lots of friends at home From whom just now away I roam; I hope they’ll all be safe and sound When I again at home am found.’”
“I thought you meant to try your own powers of rhyming,” said Kate. “Iam glad you have not, for I know you could not do nearly as well as thewriter you quote; and I am sure you have not half as feeling a heart.But we have had enough.”
This was an unlucky speech of Kate’s; for it gave Mr. Temple anopportunity of doing still worse.
“A feeling heart!” he repeated: “well, I don’t know about that; herfeelings seem to have been mixed, for she says,--
‘Alas! ’tis my unhappy fate To see on board a man I hate: I know I should not be so mad; But he behaves so very bad.’
Now, I am in a much more amiable frame of mind; for I do not see inthis present company a single person whom it is ‘my unhappy fate’ tohate. How is it with you, Maggie?”
But Maggie was overwhelmed, and could not possibly have answered if shehad wished to do so ever so much.
“Maggie,” said Kate, seeing no way to spare the child further confusionbut by taking her away, “you have not enough green with those flowers.Come over there, I see some pretty leaves, and we will gather them.”
Maggie sprang to her feet, letting the flowers fall to the ground, andseized eagerly upon the kind hand held out for her relief. The tears,which she had been struggling to hold back, flowed freely the momentshe was beyond the sound of her tormentor’s voice; but she felt betterfor them and for Kate’s sympathy.
“Never mind, dear,” said Kate, soothingly. “I know the poetry is yours,Maggie, and it is very nice indeed; but I would not say so beforeCharlie and Mary. I thought you would not like it. George Temple couldnot have written it himself, and he ought to be ashamed to tease youso.”
“It’s _too, too_ mean,” sobbed Maggie; “and that man is too horrid. Ididn’t really mean I hated him; but now I most feel as if I did.”
Meanwhile Bessie, who had lingered a moment to pick up Maggie’sflowers, was receiving in dignified silence Mr. Temple’s questions ashe asked “what ailed her sister?”
“What is the matter, George?” said Miss Temple, seeing something waswrong. “Are you teasing Maggie? Are those verses hers?”
“I told you they were Anon.,” replied her brother.
This was a little too much. It was quite bad enough for Mr. Templeto torment Maggie so; but that he should give the credit of thosebeautiful verses to another, was more than could be borne, and Bessieturned upon him, saying, with the utmost severity, but withoutpassion,--
“They’re not. Miss Anon. didn’t write them. My Maggie did; and you knowit, and you took them out of her bag.”
Mr. Temple laughed with the others at the first part of the speech, butlooked grave again at its ending.
“Hallo!” he said, rousing himself from the lazy attitude he had keptuntil now, “do you know what you are saying, little lady? That would bestealing.”
Bessie stood looking at him for a moment in silence.
“I picked them up off the deck of the steamboat,” said the younggentleman, a shade of vexation crossing his face as he noted theexpression of the child’s.
With grave reproach in her great, serious eyes, she made answer,--
“I don’t see why it’s not just the same.”
“The same as what, as stealing?”
“You knew they were not yours, sir,” answered the child. “I don’tsuppose it was just stealing, but I think it was”--
“Well,” said Mr. Temple, seeing she hesitated.
“I had better go away,” said Bessie: “I feel pretty saucy and I mightsay something you deserved;” with which she turned away, and ran afterKate and Maggie.
Mr. Temple looked, as he felt, uncomfortable. The joke had provedmore serious than he had intended; and the remarks made by his twocompanions, and their amusement at Bessie’s words, did not tend to makehim better pleased with the consequences of his own conduct.
Kate added her reproaches when she returned, after leaving Maggie andBessie in their father’s care, saying,--
“I had rather, for your own sake, that you had done this thing to anyother children than those two, George. They are both so truly just, andhave such a high sense of honor, which you have rudely shocked.”
“A child’s sense of honor,” repeated George, rather scornfully. “I amsorry I teased them, and had no idea Maggie would take it so hardly;but I am not troubled in regard to my self. A child’s opinion does notsignify much.”
“It does with me,” said Kate, “and I can tell you a story to thepoint, and which may show you what a child’s sense of honor is worth. Ithink they sometimes see the right and wrong more clearly than we do.”
“You seem to have great faith in these little friends of yours,” saidMr. Temple.
“Yes,” replied Kate, “I have reason. They have been tried and not foundwanting, as you shall hear;” and Kate told the story of the prizecomposition,--the hopes and fears regarding it, its loss and recovery,and the noble way in which our little girls had acted.
“Capital!” said Charlie, as she ended. “They judge others only by therules by which their own conduct is guided; and there is a wise sayingin an old book we all know of, which we would do well to remember:namely, ‘Take heed that ye offend not one of these little ones.’ Itake that to mean, not only that we are to set a good example to them,and that we must so act and speak as not to confuse and disturb theirideas of right and wrong; but also, that whoever purposely hurts orgrieves one of them, commits a sin in the eyes of Him who gave them Hisspecial care and blessing. Which of us could have calmly borne ridiculethrown upon some cherished work of our own, such as you cast, George,on the simple verses of that shy, sensitive, little Maggie? Poor littlepoetess! And I honor Bessie, baby though she is, for the way in whichshe struggled with her temper, and removed herself from the temptationto give way to it, and ‘say something you deserved.’ Could there havebeen a more severe reproof than that?” and Mr. Maynard laughed againat Bessie’s speech and manner, though he felt that this had become nolaughing matter.
“They have both forgiven him now,” said Kate, dryly; “and Bessie madethe excuse for him which she usually makes for others who do what sheconsiders wrong, that ‘maybe Mr. Temple had never been taught better,and so didn’t know what was very true and honest, or he wouldn’t havekept Maggie’s verses, when he knew they were hers, for such a veryunkind purpose as to tease her.’ ‘And maybe he didn’t know how very badI felt, and never thought much about doing unto others,’ added Maggie.I cannot believe you meant to be as cruel as you were, George; for youdid not know how much Maggie dreads notice drawn upon herself. Yousee,” she added, playfully, “I have myself so lately learned the lessonhow much suffering such thoughtlessness may cause another, that I feelentitled to preach on the subject to others.”
Mr. Temple took the preaching in good part. He had a lazy kind ofgood-nature which would not allow him to take offence readily; and,besides, he was really sorry and vexed with himself for what he haddone. Perhaps he would have regretted it still more, had he seen partof a letter written that afternoon by Maggie to Colonel Rush:--
“DEAR UNCLE HORACE,--I think there are a kind of people in the world who seem to be created only for a very bad business, namely, to tease poor children and make their shyness come back to them when they have been trying very hard to cure themselves of it. Of this nature is a man whose name I will not mention, for some day you might know him and say ‘there is the trecherous man who was so cruel to Maggie and I will not be acquainted with him’ which would be a punishment I would not wish even him to bear because I am trying to forgive him but it is very hard. He picked up a poem I wrote on the boat to send to you, and he kept it and said it before me just to plage me and there was a verse in it about him which was not at all a compliment and oh! dear Uncle Horace he said that too, and it was dreadful I was so frightened. I am quite sure he knew it was mine and Bessie is too and I don’t think it was very honest not to give it right back do you? but to read it which was not like what a gentleman should do. He made believe he thought it was nice but he did not and was only making fun of it which was a hard distress to bear and I think I shall never recover it and feel as pleasant with that man as I would wish to feel with all my fellow cretures. Miss Kate was very nice and took me away and she is much improved and never teases any more and now I love her dearly; but she never teased me so badly as that man who I will not name and I pity Miss Temple for having such a brother for she is a very nice young lady and deserves better. When Harry and Fred are young men which I wish they did not have to be I hope they will remember this and take pattern by Mr. Maynard and not by M---- that other man I mean. But no more on this melancorly subject so sad to think on but I will tell you about Niagara Falls.
“N. B. Mr. Temple is a very good looking young man in his appearance but I find all is not gold that glitters.”