"I believe it is snowing over yonder," cried Aggie to Guy one day,
pointing to the west, where, truly enough, as far as the eye could
reach, the earth appeared perfectly white.
"It does look like snow," returned Guy, looking intently in the
direction she indicated, "but it is now June, and we certainly ought
not to encounter such a fall as that appears to be, besides, there is a
perfect glare of sunshine there! Ah, I have it! That is not snow, but
alkali!"
"What is alkali?" asked Aggie. "Is it cold! Will it melt?"
"I don't know," answered Guy, "let us ask Mr. Graham, he will be able
to tell us all about it."
So that very evening when the train stopped to encamp for the night,
they waited until Mr. Graham had finished his work, and Guy had done
all that was required of him, and then went to the camp-fire of the
Grahams.
They were very warmly welcomed, for both Guy and Aggie were great
favorites of them all, and after they were all quietly seated, Guy
pointed to the desert of alkali that shone like crystal beneath the
beams of the moon, and asked Mr. Graham if he could tell them of what
it was composed, and how it came there.
"Of the last I can say nothing," returned Mr. Graham, "except that it
was placed there by an all-wise Creator for some good purpose. The
substance itself is a sulphate of soda, and is generally found near
sulphur, and soda springs. A fall of rain usually brings it forth
from the earth it impregnates in great quantities, and it looks very
beautiful. The white particles often assume the most delicate shapes,
like flakes of snow for instance, or most delicate leaves, and ferns."
"I shall be very glad when we get there," said Aggie, "I shall think we
are passing a winter in fairy lands."
"Then I am afraid you will think it a very disagreeable winter,"
returned Mr. Graham, laughing.
"Why?" asked Aggie, opening wide her eyes in astonishment. "Is it cold
there? I thought that the sun shone as warmly there as it does here."
"So it does," replied Mr. Graham. "It will not be of the weather that
you will complain, but of what you call the beautiful snow."
"Ah! yes, perhaps the glare will hurt my eyes."
"I think it very likely, Aggie," said Amy Graham, "but my brother was
not thinking of that, but of something much worse. These alkali salts
are very poisonous, and often kill people if they are partaken of even
slightly."
"Indeed!" ejaculated Aggie and Guy at once.
"I'll never touch them!" continued the latter, "and I am so sorry I
can't, because I thought it would be so nice to eat some, as if it was
snow."
"I should never think of eating it," said Guy. "And I think Aggie would
not when she had once seen what kind of a substance it is," said Mr.
Graham, "for it looks much more like powdered washing-soda than snow,
and tastes more like it too."
"Then I am sure I wouldn't take enough even to make my mouth taste
badly!" exclaimed Aggie, with a gesture of disgust.
"I thought the same at one time," said Mr. Graham, "yet it was only a
very short time afterwards that I was nearly killed by partaking of it."
"How?" cried both the children, eagerly. "Do tell us about it, Mr.
Graham."
"Certainly I will," he answered, kindly. "I believe I have told you
before that this is not the first time I have been across the plains. I
made my first trip before gold was discovered in California, and when
few people thought of going there.
"There was then no well defined route such as we have been following,
and when we reached the alkali desert we lost trace of any road, and
had to depend entirely upon our reasoning powers for guidance."
"Hadn't you any compass?" asked Guy.
"Certainly," replied Mr. Graham, "but as we were rather uncertain
which direction we ought to take, it was not of much use to us. Before
a week was over, both ourselves and the cattle were quite worn down
with our tiresome march across the glaring, blinding desert. Our
condition daily grew worse, for all sickened, and suffered dreadfully
for want of water, for there was none to be found but that which was
impregnated with soda. Many of the people drank it, and became very
sick; the weary oxen quaffed it from the little pools, formed by
the rain, by the wayside, and daily two or three died, and we were
compelled to leave them to bleach as white as the alkali around them.
For my part, I drank no water for days; enduring the agonies of thirst
in silence, and praying that we might soon find relief. One day, one
of my comrades died, he had borne the torture attending abstinence as
long as possible, and then had drank to repletion, and been poisoned.
There had been a heavy shower, and he had been quite unable to resist
the temptation it offered. Two days after, it rained again, and I was
almost as imprudent as my friend had been, and was immediately taken
so ill that I feared I should share his resting-place. I never shall
forget how rejoiced I was when we got into a pure atmosphere and
healthy soil again, but it was weeks, yes, even months, before the
effects of my poisoned draught passed entirely away."
"Dear me," cried Aggie, in dismay, "are there no June springs in the
alkali desert! Oh, dear! dear! just think of having come so far just to
be poisoned!"
"We will see that you do not drink after a shower," said Mr. Graham,
laughing. "But even the little birds could do that here. And indeed
there will be no necessity for you to do so, as several springs have
been discovered since the time I spoke of."
"I wish you hadn't told me about it," said Aggie, sadly, "I shall think
all the time of the poor creatures that have been poisoned. I don't
like to hear of such dreadful things, even if they are true. I would a
great deal rather hear a pretty story. Miss Carrie, won't you tell me
one?"
"My brother has told you of something that once happened to him,"
she replied, readily, "and now, if you like, I will relate a little
adventure that befell me when I was a little girl."
"Oh! that will be splendid, Miss Carrie. Do tell us all about it."
"I must tell you, in the first place," began Miss Graham, when she had
drawn Aggie nearer to her side, so that she should not lose one word
she was about to say, "that I was not at all a good little girl at the
time the event I am going to tell you of, took place, and you must not,
therefore, be surprised to hear of any naughty actions I used to do.
"My favorite ones were those by which I could frighten people. Nothing
used to delight me so much as to tell ghost stories to my younger
brothers and sisters and leave them without explaining them, when often
the poor little creatures would become nearly convulsed with terror,
and my mother would find great trouble in quieting them. I had often
been scolded, and even whipped for my malicious mischief but all to no
purpose, and at last no notice was taken of me, and I thought my father
and mother had made up their mind to let me tell horrible stories until
I was tired of them. My parents often went out in the evening to the
theatre, or some party and on such occasions it was my usual practice
to coax my brother Charlie, and sister Amy into the dining room with
me, while the nurse put my youngest brother to bed. When I had, by dint
of threats, and persuasions, got them into the room, I would make them
sit by the fire suddenly put out the candles, and begin some dreadful
story. Generally the nurse came in the middle of it and carried them
away to bed, where they would cower under the blankets and tremble at
every sound."
"I know," interrupted Aggie, "I used to do that after George had told
me stories. But did you believe what you used to tell them?"
"'No, my love, although I have indeed told such horrible things, as
even to awaken my own fears. Generally however, I laughed heartily at
the idea of ghosts and said I should like to see one.'
"'Oh don't say so,' said Amy, one night. 'What should we do if one
should appear?'
"'I do wish one would,' returned I, 'how you would run.'
"Just then I heard a terrible crash, as if all the crockery and tinware
upon the kitchen dressers had tumbled down.
"'What can that be,' I cried in alarm.
"'What?' asked my brother, very quietly.
"'Are you deaf?' I retorted. 'Don't you hear that dreadful noise? There
it is again. Oh, what shall I do?'
"It was no wonder I was frightened for there sat my brother and sister
as if they heard nothing, while every moment the noise grew louder. I
had always thought myself a very brave girl before, but I shook with
alarm at these unearthly sounds, and shrieked with terror when the
door opened, and a terrible figure surrounded by blue flame entered the
room. I pointed at it in speechless horror. It towered nearly to the
ceiling and looked down upon me with eyes that glowed like coals. It
held in its hand a whip made of snakes with which it menaced me. For a
few seconds I could neither move nor speak, while my brother and sister
laughed and talked as if nothing unusual was going on. I was convinced
that this revelation from the spirit world was made to me alone, and I
was overwhelmed by the fear that I was to be carried away bodily, to
answer before the ghosts I had derided. The monster advanced toward me.
With a shriek I bade it begone! it laid its death cold hand upon me
and--"
"'Oh, Miss Carry, don't tell any more.'
"Oh, it was so horrible!" cried Aggie, clasping Guy's arm lightly. "Oh
dear, dear, didn't you die with fright?"
"It appears not," returned Miss Graham, laughing, "but I do not know
but I should have done so, had not my brother James rushed into the
room, caught hold of the supposed ghost and cried, 'there there, that
will do Tom! Don't you see the poor child is nearly frightened to
death.'"
"So it wasn't a real ghost after all," exclaimed Aggie, in a tone of
mingled disappointment and relief.
"No, it was not a real ghost after all, but only a very good sham
one, that was made up by my brother and cousin to frighten me out of
my propensity of frightening others, and you may be sure it did so. I
didn't think I ever afterwards told a ghost story of which I could not
as readily give an explanation as of this."
"But you frightened me though," said Aggie, drawing a long breath.
"But you are not frightened now, darling?"
"Why of course not Miss Carrie."
"But do you know I think I would rather hear that pretty little story
about the 'Christ-child,' that you told us a few evenings ago, or one
of those little poems of which you know so many."
"I do not think I can remember any to-night," said Miss Carrie, "but
perhaps Amy can."
"Please try dear Miss Amy," cried Aggie running to her, "Mr. Graham,
and Miss Carrie have both told us a story, and now if you will repeat
some pretty poetry it will be so nice."
Miss Amy laughed pleasantly, and lifted Aggie on her lap. "My pet,"
she said, "yesterday I heard you ask your mother what she thought the
prettiest thing in the world."
"Oh, yes," cried Aggie, "and she couldn't decide. What do you think
the prettiest Miss Amy? But then perhaps you are like mamma, you think
there are, so many beautiful things in the world that you can't choose
between them."
"Yes," said Miss Amy sweetly though gravely, I have decided. "Now
listen to me a few minutes and you shall know what is to me
FAIREST AND BEST:"
"There came a child to my side one day,
And lightly she said with a laugh of mirth,
'Tell me of all things, now I pray,
Which is the fairest to you upon earth?
"'Is it the rose, with its breath of balm?
Is it the gem of the diamond mine?
Is it the shell, with its sea-song calm?
Or the pearl, that low in the deep doth shine?'
"I answered her, 'Though the rose is fair,
Though the diamond gleams like a lesser sun;
Oh, ne'er can _they_, e'en in thought compare,
With my chosen beauty, my purest one.
"'For mine, far sweeter than rose doth bloom,
In our world of sorrow, of woe, and care;
E'en light of the diamond seemeth gloom,
To that halo divine that shineth where;
"'My fairest thing upon all the earth,
_A little child_ kneeleth down to pray,
And sweeter than sound of ocean's mirth
Are the heav'nly words, she doth meekly say.
"'Yes, as I look on a kneeling child,
Of those I think, whom our Saviour blest,
And I know of all things fair and mild,
The pure, young heart of a child is best.'"
Little Aggie remained perfectly still for some moments after Miss Amy
had finished. At last she lifted up her face, and kissed the young lady
sweetly, and whispered, "Dear Miss Amy I will try to remember that. I
am sure Mamma thinks the same as you do. Thank you for telling me.
Good-night my dear Miss Amy. Good-night Miss Carrie, and Mr. Graham. We
have had such a nice time haven't we Guy. Now we will go home."
"Good-night, and good-night Mr. Graham, and Miss Carrie. Come, Guy, let
us go home."
So Guy arose and led the little girl toward the wagon she called
"home," for to her little affectionate heart any where was home where
her parents stayed. They were walking slowly past the baggage wagons
when to his surprise, and affright Guy saw a puff of smoke, issue
from the back part of the one in which he usually slept. He instantly
remembered the powder, and with a cry dashed toward it, bidding Aggie
run as far as possible from the danger. There was no water near, but
he caught up a bag of flour, sprang into the wagon and dashed it upon
the flames, then another, and another. Meanwhile his cries had brought
every one to the spot, James Graham brought a pail of water and threw
upon the already smothered flames, and immediately a great sputtering,
and kicking was heard, and George Harwood sat up sleepily and demanded
what they were pitching into him for.
"Get up," said his father who was looking very pale and agitated, "Get
up and thank this brave boy for having saved your life. If it had not
been for him this powder would have exploded, and launched you, and we
know not how many others into Eternity."
George saw how great his danger had been, and with shame owned that he
had brought it upon himself, by dropping fire from a pipe which he was
endeavoring to learn to smoke, in express disobedience of his father's
commands.
He turned around to thank Guy for having risked his own life to save
his, for that he had undoubtedly done by springing into the burning
wagon, but found that like a true hero, he had gone to perform another
duty, waiting neither for thanks or praises. But he got both, for as
he lifted little Aggie into her mother's wagon, she kissed him and
whispered "You good, brave boy, I am going to ask God to bless you all
your life."