THE MOROCCO BOOK.
Mary Jay accordingly sent up two of the children after the Morocco
Book. She told them that her sister would give it to them. They knocked
at the door of the house, and, when Mary Jay’s sister came to the door,
they told her what they wanted. Then her sister went in, and presently
came back, and brought the Morocco Book, which she had wrapped up
carefully in a newspaper; for she knew that Mary Jay was very careful
of the Morocco Book.
When the messengers had returned to where the children were assembled,
Mary Jay took off the newspaper, and brought the handsome Morocco Book
to view. She looked at the index a few minutes, and then turned to a
place at about the middle of the book, and read the following story.--
THE LONELY SLEIGH-RIDE.
Once there was a farmer who lived in a solitary place near the bank of
a river, and he had a little daughter named Jane. They commonly called
her Jenny.
There was a small village about two miles off, up the river, though
upon the other side. At the village there was a mill, and very near
the mill, on the other side of it, was a house where the miller lived.
One evening in winter, when the moon was shining bright, the farmer
concluded to go to the mill in his sleigh. Jenny wanted to go with him
for the ride; and he said that she might go. It was a very pleasant
ride along the banks of the river from the farm to the mill. When the
river was frozen over, they generally went upon the ice. The road upon
the ice was very pleasant to travel, though it was rather bad getting
off and on, for there was generally a wet place along the shore.
The farmer was going to carry a bag of wheat to the mill, to be ground.
The meal was to be put into the same bag again; but then he wanted
another bag to put the bran into. Jenny wanted the bran to feed her
chickens with. So the farmer brought out a spare bag, and laid it upon
the step of the door, while he went to bring the horse and sleigh out
of the barn.
Jenny followed her father to the barn, and got into the sleigh there.
Her father stepped in, too, after her, and took his seat. But he had
to get out again to adjust some part of the harness, which was out of
order. While adjusting the harness, he got engaged in talking with
Jenny, and, when he was ready to set out, he had entirely forgotten
about his spare bag; and so he drove by, and left it upon the great,
flat stone which formed the step of the door.
It was a bright moonlight evening, and the farmer drove on over the
beautiful white road very fast. Presently he came to the place where he
was accustomed to turn off to go down upon the river.
“Are you going on the river?” said Jenny.
“Why, yes,” said her father; “wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jenny, “perhaps; only I’m a little afraid to go
through the water at the edge.”
“O, that will do no harm,” replied her father; “the water is not deep.”
So her father drove down through the water, over on to the ice, and
then turned up the river, and the horse trotted swiftly on.
As they rode on, Jenny and her father happened to fall into
conversation on the way to act when in circumstances of sudden danger.
“Always take time, Jenny, in such cases,” said her father, “to consider
well what you had better do, before you begin to do it.”
“But, father,” said Jenny, “suppose there is not any time.”
“Why, then,” replied her father, “of course you cannot do any thing.”
“But I mean, father, suppose there is only a very little time--not
enough to think in.”
“Why, if there is ever so little time,” said her father in reply, “it
would be better to use a part of it in considering. If the house is on
fire, the first thing is to consider well what to do.”
“Why, I should run and cry fire,” said Jenny.
“But that might not be best,” said her father. “You might be in such
a place that nobody would hear you, if you did cry fire. Or, if you
should examine the fire, you might find that you could put it out
yourself, very easily, with a pail of water; and in that case it would
not be wise to alarm the people out of doors.”
“Then,” said Jenny, “the first thing I should do would be to run and
get a pail of water.”
“That might not be best,” said her father; “for perhaps the fire would
have advanced so far that you could not hope to put it out; and so it
might be wisest for you to go get some valuable papers and carry out,
or a child asleep in a cradle.
“So you see,” continued her father, “the best thing that you could do
would be to pause and consider what to do. I heard a doctor say once
that, if he had but five minutes to save a man’s life in, he should
take two of them to consider what to do.”
Jenny wanted to drive a little. The horse was a very spirited, but yet
a very kind and gentle horse, so that her father often used to let
Jenny drive him. But it was rather cold this evening; and her father
told her that he thought it would be better for her to sit still and
keep her fingers warm.
When they arrived at the village, they drove up near to a post which
stood between the house and the mill. The miller came to help the
farmer take out the bag of wheat. And he said to the farmer, “You had
better let your little girl go into the house and stay there while we
are grinding.”
“O no,” replied the farmer; “she can go into the mill with us, just as
well. She will like to walk about in the mill a little.”
So the farmer folded up the reins, and put them through a ring in
the harness, in such a way that they hung safely down the horse’s
shoulder; and he was then going to fasten the horse. He hung up the
reins in that manner so as to prevent their getting down under the
horse’s feet. Just before he fastened the horse, however, he observed
that the miller was ready to help him carry in the bag of wheat. So he
took hold of one end, while the miller took hold of another, in order
to carry it along through a passage-way on that side which led into the
mill.
“I think,” said the miller, “that your little girl had better go into
the house. Yes, here comes John, and he will take your horse round into
my shed, and show Jenny in.”
John was a boy who was just then coming along with a pail of water. He
heard what his father said, and he answered.
“Yes, father,” said he; “as soon as I have carried in this pail of
water, I will come out and do it.”
“O, that is not necessary,” said Jenny’s father; “there is a shed
around on the other side of the mill. I will come and put the horse
there, and let Jenny go in with us.”
So the boy went in with his pail of water, and the miller and the
farmer carried the bag of wheat along the passage-way. When they had
gone, Jenny thought she would step into the sleigh again, so as to be
all ready to go whichever way it was decided to carry her.
Now, the horse perceived that somebody got into the sleigh, and he very
naturally supposed that he was to set out again, and carry them where
they wanted to go; and so he began to turn around out towards the road.
“Whoa! whoa!” said Jenny.
But the reins were hung up upon the harness out of Jenny’s reach; and
so, as the horse felt no pressure of restraint upon the bit, he paid no
attention to the order, but moved on out into the street. The weather
being cold, all the doors were shut in the mill and in the house, and
nobody heard the sound of the bells, nor Jenny’s calls to the horse;
and, in a word, before Jenny had time to consider her situation, the
horse was out in the street trotting off at a good round pace down
towards a bridge which passed over a small stream just below the mill,
and which was on the way towards home.
In the mean time, Jenny’s father, after helping the miller about
getting the grain into the mill, and pouring it into the hopper, came
back for Jenny. When he saw that the sleigh was gone, he said,--
“Ah, John has taken her into the house, I see. Well, he was pretty
quick about it.” So he went back into the mill.
In the same way, John, when he had carried in his pail of water, came
back to look for Jenny and the sleigh. When he saw that they were gone,
he said,--
“Ah, they have taken her into the mill, I see. Well, they were pretty
quick about it.” So he went back into the house.
In the mean time, the horse trotted on. Jenny’s first thought was to
jump out at once. But the horse was coming fast down the hill to the
bridge, and that made her afraid to jump out there; for she thought
that, if she should fall down upon the hard planks, it would hurt her
more than to fall upon the snow. So she concluded to wait until she
should have got over the bridge.
But now, as she was passing the bridge, she recollected what her father
had told her about always stopping to consider what it was best to do
when she was placed in any dangerous situation; and so she concluded
not to jump out at once, but to reflect a little whether it would be
best to jump out or not.
“If I jump out,” she said to herself, “I shall get thrown down,
perhaps, and hurt my head. And then, besides, the horse and sleigh
will go home alone, and my mother will think that my father and I are
thrown out and killed, and so she will be very much frightened. No, I
had better not jump out.”
Then she thought of another plan. “I might climb along one of the
shafts towards the horse’s head, and try to get hold of the reins, and
then I could stop him.--But no,” she added, “that will not do. It might
frighten him, and make him run away faster.”
Here she paused, and thought a little more about it.
“But, then,” she said to herself again, presently, “if I keep in the
sleigh, and the horse runs against any thing, or runs quick round a
corner, and turns the sleigh over, then I shall be thrown out, and
shall be killed.
“Ah,” she continued, after thinking a little more, “I know what I will
do. I will get out carefully upon the runner, and step along till I get
on to the end of the runner, behind the sleigh; and then, as long as
the horse goes on right, I will cling on, and he shall carry me home;
but when I see any difficulty coming, then I will jump off.”
So Jenny stepped out very carefully, holding on by the back of the
sleigh, and took her place upon the end of the runner, on one side.
She went on so, very well, for a short distance, for the horse did not
go very fast. If she had been much frightened, and had screamed or
called out very loud, it would have frightened the horse very much, and
he would have soon got into a run. But, as all was quiet, the horse
supposed that all was right, and so he trotted along towards home, just
as usual.
But then, in a very few minutes after this, he turned into the road
which led down the bank to the river.
“O dear me!” said Jenny. “He will draw my feet all over in the water.
I’ll jump off.--No, I’ll jump in.”
She had but a moment to decide which to do; but she happened to decide
right. She jumped in, just as the horse was stepping carefully into the
water at the margin of the river. She sat down upon the seat, and held
on by one side of the sleigh. The runners plunged into the water, and
then, with a jolt, struck the edge of the ice, and rose up upon it. The
horse then began to trot again.
“There,” said Jenny, “I am safe on the ice. Now I can get out again
upon the runner.”
However, by this time Jenny had become quite quiet and composed in her
new situation. She found that the horse was going along very regularly,
and she reflected that, as she had got out of the village, she had
passed all the places where there were bad corners to turn, and also
that it was not now very probable that she should meet any body coming.
So she concluded to remain in the sleigh, especially as she would have
to go through the water again, when the horse went up off the ice.
So she staid in the sleigh. She stood up in the front of it, upon one
corner, and took hold of the dasher, in order that she might stand
firmly. In this way she rode along. The horse trotted very fast, but
the road was level and smooth, and its direction changed only by great
curves, which followed the bends in the stream. At length, the horse
came to the place for going up upon the land. He stopped trotting
when he came to the water, looked down into it, stepped carefully in,
and then very soon took the sleigh and Jenny out safe to the solid
ground. He walked up the bank, turned into the road, trotted on a short
distance, and then wheeled round up into the farmer’s yard. He walked
along to the barn door, and there stopped for Jenny to get out and
unharness him.
“Well,” said Jenny to herself, as she stepped out of the sleigh. “This
is pretty well.” She looked around towards the house, and saw no light.
So she knew that her mother had gone to bed in her bed-room, on the
back side. The bag for the bran was lying in the moonlight on the step
of the door, where her father had left it. She turned around again to
the horse, and took hold of the reins, which were hanging like a bundle
of ribbons from the horse’s shoulder.
“This was all the difficulty,” she said. “If I had only had these
reins, I could have stopped him. I’ve a great mind now to get in again,
and drive him back. I’ll see if I can turn him round, at any rate.”
So Jenny got into the sleigh, with the reins in her hands, and she
found that she could turn him around without any difficulty. She had
never driven alone before, but she had often driven when her father was
seated in the sleigh with her, so that she knew very well how to guide
the horse to the right or left by pulling one rein, and how to make
him stop by pulling both; so that she had no difficulty in turning him
round, and then stopping him before he went out into the road. Here she
paused to consider.
“If I don’t go back,” said she to herself, “my father will come out to
find me, and be afraid I am killed. Perhaps he is walking along home
after me now. If I go in the house here, there is nobody to drive the
horse back, and it is too far for my father to walk. Yes, I will drive
him back; and then, besides, there is the bag upon the step. I can
carry my father his bag, and so get the bran for my chickens.”
The sleigh was standing very near the step, at this time, but Jenny
drove a little nearer, so that she could step out and get the bag. She
kept hold of the reins all the time, with one hand.
She put the bag into the bottom of the sleigh, and then got in again
herself. She then carefully drove the horse down out of the yard into
the road, and turned him in the direction towards the village. When she
came to the place for going down the bank to the river, her courage
failed a little. She was afraid to drive into the water. However, she
kept the reins still, and held on as firmly as she could, and the horse
carried her safely through.
“Now, pony, you must go faster,” she said, when the horse was fairly
upon the river. So she took the whip, which was lying in the bottom of
the sleigh, and touched him very lightly with it. The horse trotted on
at great speed. The road passed sometimes out in the middle of the
stream, and sometimes it curved along by the shore, under a high bank
overhung with trees. Sometimes she was in the moonlight, and sometimes
in shadow; but the road was smooth and true, and she glided over it
like a bird.
Presently she saw something dark at a distance before her. In a few
minutes, she perceived that it was moving. It was a horse and sleigh
coming on towards her.
“What shall I do now?” said Jenny.
The first thought was to stop the horse, and tell the man who was in
the sleigh her story, and get him to go back with her. But then she
reflected that she was getting along very well without any help, and
that probably the people in the sleigh had a home of their own that
they wanted to get to, as well as she.
“On the whole, if I can only get by them,” she said to herself, “I will
go directly on.”
So she turned out well from the path, when she found that she was near
them, and got by without any trouble. There were a man and a woman
in the sleigh, and they looked up astonished at seeing so small a
girl driving a sleigh at that time of night, and on such a solitary
road. But then the two sleighs passed each other so quick, that the
travellers had no time to say any thing to Jenny, and so she drove on.
And it was rather a sombre scene, as is here represented in the picture.
“O, is there a picture, Mary Jay?” “Let us see the picture,” said all
the girls. They came around Mary Jay, and looked at the picture which
was painted in the Morocco Book, at the place where Mary Jay was
reading. They stood, some on each side and some behind, looking over
her shoulder. They looked at it a few minutes in silence.
There was a lonely-looking place upon a river, the surface of
the stream being white with snow. There were dark woods in the
background, hanging gloomily over the shore; and upon the foreground,
too, upon one side, there were some large rocks and fir-trees, which
were upon the bank nearest the spectator. Jenny’s sleigh was going
along, the moon shining upon it brightly; and behind it there was
the other sleigh, which was seen more dimly, as it was partly shaded
by trees. Still you could see the man’s head turned back, looking
towards Jenny’s sleigh.
“How cold it looks!” said Marielle.
The rest of the children said nothing; but, after they had looked at
it for some minutes, silently, they went back to their places, and
Mary Jay went on.
Jenny met with no other adventure on the ice. In a short time, she came
to the place where she was to go off the ice, and the horse took her
very safely through the water, and up upon the shore.
She then guided him along towards the village, and across the bridge,
and thence up to the mill. Just as she got there, she saw her father
and the miller going along around the house to find her. His wheat was
ground, and he was now ready to go home. He supposed that Jenny was
in the house, and his sleigh in the yard. He heard a sleigh coming
along behind him; but, not imagining it could be his, he did not pay
particular attention to it, but walked on.
As soon, however, as he turned around the corner of the house, and saw
that his sleigh was not there, under the shed where he had expected to
find it, he stopped, and exclaimed,--
“What!--where’s my sleigh?”
“Here it is, father,” said Jenny, “and here is your bag, too, for the
bran.”
Her father and the miller turned around, together, but they could
hardly believe their eyes, and when Jenny came to tell her story,
it was still more difficult to believe their ears. When, at length,
however, they understood the story, her father said,--
“Well, Jenny, that’s pretty well--pretty well. If you had not got the
bag with you for proof, I should think that you had got asleep in the
sleigh, and been dreaming.”
* * * * *
Here Mary Jay paused, and shut the book.
“Is that the end?” asked the children.
“Yes, that is the end,” replied Mary Jay.
“Well, I think,” said Laura, “that Jenny was a pretty courageous girl.”
“And I think,” said Royal, “that she was a pretty wise girl.”
“But I don’t think she did quite right,” said Marielle, “to drive back
again without her mother’s leave.”
“I am not sure of that myself,” said Mary Jay. “But now, girls, it is
time for you to go home. Come, all of you, and shake hands with me,
and bid me good-by, and leave me here. I am going away, to be gone a
long time, and I don’t know when I shall see you again. But there is
one thing that I want you to do for me. Be very gentle and obedient,
at home, now, for three days; and they will think it is owing to your
having paid a visit to Mary Jay.”
“Yes, we will, Mary Jay,” said the girls; “we certainly will.”
So Mary Jay held out her hand to the girls. For a minute or two, she
looked upon them with a smile, as one after another came forward to
shake it; but then she turned her head away, and, leaning upon a round
stone at one side of her seat, she hid her face in her handkerchief,
which she held in her left hand. Marielle lingered till the last, and
then she kneeled down upon the step of the seat beside her, kissed her
cheek, and said, in a very gentle tone,--
“Good by, dear Mary Jay.”
She then paused, and looked at her with a sad expression of
countenance. Her dark hair, lying in curls upon her neck, was very
beautiful. But Marielle was not admiring her beauty; she was pitying
her sorrow.