Produced by Chris Curnow, obstobst and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)
Light for Little Ones.
LIGHT FOR LITTLE ONES.
BY MARY F. WATERBURY.
PORTLAND: HOYT, FOGG AND BREED. 1872.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by HOYT, FOGG & BREED, in the Clerk's Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
THURSTON, PRINTER, PORTLAND.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I. Frankie and his Home 7
" II. The Adventure in the Creek 11
" III. Aleck--the New Friend 20
" IV. Remember the Sabbath Day 27
" V. Frankie trusts in Christ 35
" VI. The First Day of School 40
" VII. The Coasting Match--who beat? 47
" VIII. Aleck goes Home 55
" IX. The Visit to Aleck's Grave. The Father's Return 59
" X. Conclusion 63
CHAPTER I.
FRANKIE AND HIS HOME.
Frankie's home was on the bank of a large creek, the Kayaderossevass.Its water turned the great wheels of many a mill and factory. Thesemills were long, high buildings, filled with windows, and having steep,dusty, narrow stairways. The water was clear and blue when it flowed byFrankie's home, but after that it went foaming and dashing over the dam,and seemed intent upon doing as much work, and making as much noise asit could. It made the wheels whirl around, and they started themachinery in the mills, and then for a buzz and whirr and roar all daylong!
The house in which Frankie lived was white, with a piazza across thefront covered with trumpet honey-suckles--those bright red flowers,shaped like trumpets, just the thing for fairies to blow, they are sodelicate and pretty. Around the house was a large yard full of trees andshrubs. Outside of the fence stood a row of poplars, as tall andstraight as soldiers on guard. There were maples too, and, every autumn,Jack Frost painted their leaves crimson and yellow.
Do you know Jack Frost? He is the merry fellow who pinches your fingersand toes, and the end of your nose and the tips of your ears; and who,to atone for all that, on winter nights draws those beautiful pictureson the window panes for you to look at in the morning. He thinks,perhaps, that you will look at them instead of teasing "mamma" forbreakfast. Some of the trees Jack did not paint, but left them green allwinter. These were the pines, with their brown cones, and the firs.
How do you like the outside of Frankie's home? The inside was just aspleasant, that is, if any house can be as pleasant as the sky, andclouds, and trees filled with singing birds. The sun came in at thewindow, where there bloomed scarlet geraniums and heliotropes, and nearwhich a golden canary sang his cheerful songs; and Mrs. Western,Frankie's mother, was so cheerful and good that any place would bepleasant where she was. Frankie's father was in California. It was a sadday when he bade his wife "good-bye," and lifted Frankie in his arms forthe last kiss; but he must leave them, to earn money, so that they couldkeep their pleasant home, for when his factory burned down one windynight, he lost, with it, all his property.
After a few months had passed, Frankie did not miss his father, butplayed as merrily as ever. What a comfort he was to his mother! Sostrong, healthful, and happy all the day long! In only one way did hegive his mother trouble. He had a very strong will and quick temper,and when he could not have his own way, would sometimes speak hasty,angry words. But his patient mother taught him the wickedness ofyielding to his temper, and by gentle words led him to see how dark isthe life of sin, and how light and pleasant the "way of holiness."
How Frankie learned to "walk in the light," we shall see from thefollowing chapters.
CHAPTER II.
THE ADVENTURE IN THE CREEK.
"Hurra! hurra!" shouted Ben Field, Joe West, and Willie Prime, throwingup their caps, and giving an extra cheer as they stopped in front ofMrs. Western's gate.
"What are you hurraing for?" asked Frankie, who stood inside the gate,whistling, with both hands in his pockets.
"Coz you've got pants on," said Ben. "You won't have to stay in the yardnow all the time, just as if you're a girl."
"Don't know," Frankie said, doubtfully, putting his hand on the latch.
"That's right, Frank," said Joe, "come on; we'll have a game ofmarbles. I ain't too big to play with a little fellow, are you, Will?"
Joe was eight and Willie seven years old, and though Frankie was butsix, he _felt_ quite as large in his new pants and jacket, as either ofthem; so he said, with an odd little air of dignity, "I _ain't_ a littlefellow, and I don't want to play marbles."
"Of course not," said Willie, "or you'd wear dresses. I did. I can justremember."
"He had a dress on yesterday, and a sun-bonnet," Ben said, with aprovoking laugh. "He's growed a lot since then."
"Stop laughing at me, Ben Field. Do you see my copper toes," and one ofthe new boots was thrust threateningly through the fence.
"Never mind him, Frank," said good-natured Joe. "Come on, boys, let's goto the creek and wade."
"Don't you want to go too?" asked Willie, seeing Frankie's wistful lookat the mention of the creek.
"Oh yes!" he exclaimed, delightedly. "Just wait a minute till I askmamma;" and off he ran, tumbling down two or three times, and rushinginto the house like a small hurricane. Not in the kitchen, nor thesitting-room; "Where is mamma?" he said to himself impatiently. At lasthe opened the parlor door and found her there, fast asleep on the sofa."Oh dear!" he thought, discontentedly. "Mamma never'll let me wake herup, an' the boys won't wait, an' I can't go." With a sad face he wentback to the gate. "I can't go. Mamma's asleep." He put his hands in hispockets, winked his eyes very fast, and began to whistle. All this tokeep from crying, and disgracing his new pants by acting like a girl.
"I don't believe your mother'll care one bit. Just to walk to thecreek," said Joe.
"No, of course she won't," added Will. "Take off your boots and gobarefoot like us boys."
The temptation to go barefooted was too strong for Frankie, so down heplumped on the grass, and off came the copper-toed boots and clean whitestockings. In a few minutes all four boys were running along the dustyroad in their bare feet. It seemed very new and funny for a while, butafter they had gone half a mile, Frankie began to wish for the coolshade and moist greensward of home. The sun burned his head, and thesand of the road his feet.
"Oh dear!" he said, "ain't we most there?"
"Tired a'ready!" laughed Ben. "You're a great boy. Better go home andsit in mammy's lap."
In his sorrowful little heart, poor, tired Frankie wished most heartilythat he was on his mother's lap that very minute, but he thought itwouldn't be manly to say so. He was too tired even to resent what Benhad said, so he kept still and trudged on.
"I know what we'll do," said Joe. "Will and I'll make a chair and carryyou. And you, Ben Field, had better keep mighty still, or I'll settleyour case in a hurry." For some reason, just then Ben thought best tostart off in pursuit of a butterfly.
Joe and Willie made a chair of their crossed hands, on which Frankieseated himself, and put an arm around each of the boys' necks. This modeof traveling pleased him very much, and it seemed but a little whilebefore they reached the creek.
"WILL AND I'LL MAKE A CHAIR AND CARRY YOU." Page 14.]
> "Ain't it jolly?" said Joe, as he led Frankie into the clear, coolwater.
"Oh! oh! see the fishes! the dear little fishes!" said Frankie, stoopingto pick them up. But the gay little shiners knew better than to allowthemselves to be picked up, even by such a nice little boy. Losing hisbalance in his attempts to seize one of them, Frankie had a sudden bathin the creek.
"Oh dear! my new pants and jacket!" was the first thing the wet littlefellow found breath to say after Joe and Willie had fished him out ofthe water and set him on the bank to dry.
"That comes of bringin' babies along," said Ben, running down the bank.
That was the drop too much, and Frankie commenced crying, saying,between his sobs, "I want to go home. Oh! please let's go home."
So Joe and Will made a chair again for Frankie and started for home,leaving Ben to enjoy his wading alone.
They set Frankie down by the gate, and, picking up his boots andstockings, he went into the house.
"Why, Frankie Western!" exclaimed his mother, as the wet, muddy, ruefullittle figure stood in the sitting-room door. "Where have you been? Yournew clothes are ruined." And, carrying the speechless little fellow intothe kitchen, she soon had him thoroughly washed, and put on one of hisold dresses in place of the new pants and jacket which were hung up forfuture attention.
It was a good deal of water for one day, and the crash towel was rough,and to go back into a dress and apron after wearing pants, was somethingof a trial, but the poor child was too tired, and too glad to be at hometo care much about it. After he was dressed he sat contentedly in hischair till supper-time, then ate his bread and milk and went to bed. Itwas not long before he was dreaming of fishes and creeks, and muddypants, nor _very_ long before the morning sun drove away the dreams andopened his eyes. Jumping up, he put on his stockings and boots, butpants and jacket were nowhere to be seen, nothing but the brown ginghamdress and apron.
"Mamma, mamma, I want my pants. Please, mamma," he said, running intothe kitchen where his mother was getting breakfast.
"They must be cleaned first. Put on your dress and come to breakfast."Her voice was so pleasant that Frankie forgot his impatience, anddressed himself quickly and quietly.
After breakfast he was about to run out as usual, when his mother said,
"No, Frankie. Mother wants you to stay in the house this morning. Shehas something to say to you."
"But I don't want to stay, mamma," and he walked slowly toward the door.
"Frankie _must_ stay." This was decisive, and he sat down in his chair.
After his mother had finished her work, she took him into thesitting-room, and gave him a seat on a stool by her side.
"Now, Frankie," she said, "I want you to tell me just what you did andwhere you went yesterday afternoon."
Frankie gave a truthful account of his adventures at the creek. Then hismother said, "Did you know you were disobeying your mother, and, morethan that, disobeying God?"
"O mamma, I didn't think, I wanted to go so much," and Frankie lookedas though he wanted to cry.
"I know you _wanted_ to go, but you must do what is _right_, not whatyou _want_ to do. I will teach you a verse from the Bible that you mustremember whenever you are tempted to disobey your mother. It is this:'Children _obey_ your parents in the Lord, for this is right.' Can yourepeat it now?"
After a few trials, Frankie could say it without a mistake, and heseemed to understand it, for, when his mother told him that he could runout and play, he put his arms around her neck and kissed her, sayingsoftly, "I'll remember, mamma, that God tells me to mind you."
CHAPTER III.
ALECK--THE NEW FRIEND.
Frankie had never been to school, but his mother had taught him to read,and had given him some nice books. These he used to read over and overagain until he almost had them by heart. Then, every Sunday his teacherselected a good Sunday School book for him to read during the week. Thebook she gave him on the Sabbath after his adventure in the creek, wasthe story of a naughty boy who disobeyed his parents. Frankie read thestory with great interest, and did not leave it until it was finished;then, going to his mother, he said, earnestly,
"Mamma, did Miss Campbell know I didn't mind you and went to thecreek?"
"I don't know, Frankie," replied his mother. "Why do you ask?"
"Because she gave me a book that tells about a little boy that didn'tmind, and ran away to a pond, and got drowned; and I thought she musthave known it."
"It may be that she did, but that is of less consequence than the factthat God knows it. Think of it, Frankie, the great and holy God! He seeseverything you do, and hears everything you say, and knows all yourthoughts."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Frankie. "I wish he didn't. I never can have any morefun when I think of that. Is he looking at us all the time, every one ofus?"
"'Every one of us, and all the time,'" answered his mother. "'His eyesare in every place, beholding the evil and the good.' But that need nottrouble you, if you do right."
"But I don't do right, you know, mamma, _always_, and I don't believe Ican if I try ever so hard. I get tired being good too. I want to playand have fun."
"'Tired being good,' my child. It is the only way to be happy. I know alittle boy who is happy all day long, and all he has to make him so, is'being good.' I am going to take something to his sick mother thisevening, and you may go with me."
"Is it the little lame boy, mamma, that lives down by the paper-mill?Oh, won't that be nice! and may I take him one of my books to read?"Frankie asked eagerly.
His mother helped him choose a book, and, after tea, they started. Theirway led them along the bank of the creek. The sun was just setting andall the sunset colors were reflected in the water. The hush of theSabbath was on the busy, noisy village, and nothing could be heard butthe faint hum of insects and the good-night song of the birds. Walkingby his mother's side, with his hand in hers, all these pleasant sightsand sounds around them, and in his heart the thought of pleasing poor,lame Aleck,--all these made Frankie quietly happy. Looking up into hismother's face, he said, "God is looking at us now, mamma, and I ain'tafraid. I wish I could see him too."
"If you love and obey God, Frankie, you will see him, for when you die,He will take you to heaven, to live with him forever." This and muchmore his mother said, and Frankie listened and pondered her words in hischildish heart.
At last they reached the widow's little brown house at the foot of asteep, wood-covered hill. It was a "wee sma' place," as widow Espeysaid, but "didna they hae a' the bonny world outside?"
The sick woman was lying on a clean white bed in one corner of the room.Her face was pale and thin, but the light of a sweet content shonethrough her eyes. The lame boy, Aleck, was sitting by the bed, hiscrutches lying on the floor beside him. He had his mother's face, andthe same patient, happy look.
"We have been talkin', my bairn an' I, o' the guid land on the itherside," the widow said, after her visitors were seated. "I dinna ken thetime, but it wi' nae' be lang before I sha' gang awa' to my aincountrie."
Tears came into Aleck's eyes and rolled down his thin, white cheeks.
"Dinna greet, laddie, dinna greet," and the mother stroked his hand thatwas clasped in hers. "The time wi' be as naething before the guid Godwi' ca' ye too, an' we sha' aye dwell thegither. Dinna doot his word, mybairn."
The child bravely kept back his tears and said, "Nae, mither, I ken itwi' a' be for the best; but oh, my ain mither, take your laddie wi' ye,"and again the tears came to his eyes.
Frankie's tender heart was touched. Going to Aleck's side, he saideagerly, "Don't cry, little boy. You may have _my_ mamma if your mammadies."
Instantly the dying mother's face brightened, and she said, in faint,earnest tones, "O Mrs. Western, if ye wad be a mither to my mitherlessbairn."
"With God's help I will. He shall be to me as my own child," said Mrs.Western, going nearer the bedside.
"Noo I can gang to my hame wi' a gladsome heart. The Laird wi----." Thevoice grew fa
inter, fainter, the breathing shorter. The sobbing childclung about his mother's neck, all the anguish of his soul in the cry,"O mither, mither." The mother's lips moved silently, a glorified lookoverspread the pallid face, then came the awful stillness. The boy hadlost a mother; heaven had gained an angel.
All the sad rites were performed under Mrs. Western's supervision, and,when everything was done, even to the turfing of the last resting-placein the quiet cemetery, the brown cottage was sold, and Aleck was takento Frankie's home. He shared Frankie's room, and Mrs. Western did allthat she could to lighten his lonely little heart. He mourned for hismother in a quiet, patient way, but seemed anxious to be cheerful, andgrateful for his pleasant home and kind friends.
Thus, in the great darkness, the Lord made his pathway light. "Hecarries the lambs in his arms."
CHAPTER IV.
REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY.
The sunny summer passed away; autumn came and brightened the hills andvalleys for a little time, then was buried beneath its own dead leaves;and now winter has brought its snow and cold winds to Frankie's home.
Frankie loves the winter. The keen winds only make his eyes brighter andcheeks rosier. Then he has such a nice sled, and there are such famoushills for coasting! To be sure, it mars his pleasure to think of Aleck,who is so lame and weak that he has to stay in the house all the time,but he is a merry-hearted little fellow, and dearly loves to go flyingdown the long hill on his swift-going sled.