_GOOD SEED._
“MY OWN DEAR SOLGER,--I do want to see you so much I don’t kno
wat to do and Ant May too and May Bessie. I did not see you
ever so long and it is such a grate wile I miss you so. But
Mamma says some day we will go to your house in that place
where you live and I will be so glad and my Maggie too. They
are indians in Nigra Falls and they have pretty things and we
bort some for all our peple and a baskit for Ant May and a
rattel for May Bessie and something for you that is a secret.
Plese dont tell them so they will be surprised and Nigra Falls
is so fast you cant think. I never saw such fast water and it
makes such a noise but not so nice as the sea and I like it
best when we go on the ilans or up the river where it is not so
much noise or such hie water to fall over. Some ilans are named
the three sisters and we call one Maggie and one Bessie and
one Annie don’t you think that is nice. I want to see Belle so
much. Belle loves me and I love Belle and Maggie does too and
I love her more that her mama went away to Jesus and she wants
her but I know she loves her yet and is glad when she is good.
And Belle is sweet. Don’t you love Belle? I send you forty nine
kisses and I love you dear Uncle Horace from your pet
“BESSIE.”
It would be hard to tell who took the most pleasure in these letters
from our little travellers,--those who wrote them, or those who
received them. One thing is certain,--that they were all carefully
kept and laid away, and some time, when they are older, Maggie and
Bessie may find some amusement in looking over these records of their
childish days. Many a pleasant scene and circumstance will they bring
back to them, and some not so bright perhaps; for the little ones have
their trials, as we know, and do not, I fear, forget as readily as
we grown people would believe. It is strange we do not see that too;
looking back, as we often do, with a sort of tender pity for our own
former grieved and mortified _little_ selves, and remembering with
such distinctness the sharp or quick word of reproof, the thoughtless
teasing, or the loud, sudden laugh at some innocent speech or action.
Little did Bessie think when she wrote that last letter, how soon her
wishes to see her dear friends were to be gratified.
It had been intended to take the steamer down Lake Ontario and the St.
Lawrence to Montreal: but on the day before that on which our friends
were to leave Niagara, there was a severe storm which tossed and
roughened the waters of the great lake; and fearing that Maggie might
have an attack of the old enemy she so dreaded, and knowing that fresh
water seasickness is even worse than that which comes from the salt
water, the elders of the party decided not to take the boat down the
lake.
They therefore went by the cars to Kingston, in Canada, and, after
passing a day there, took the boat down the river St. Lawrence; for
here Maggie had nothing to fear from her foe. There was no part of
their long journey which the children enjoyed more than their passage
down this beautiful river, so different from any thing they had yet
seen. The Lake of the Thousand Isles, as the entrance to the St.
Lawrence is called, full of little islets up to the number that is
named, a thousand: some larger, and covered with graceful, feathery
trees; some so small as scarce to afford room for some solitary tree or
bush; clustering together so as scarce to leave room for the steamer to
pass, then again separating, with a broad, clear sheet of water between
them.
Here something occurred which greatly interested not only the children,
but also the grown people on board. As the steamer was slowly making
her way between two small islands, the passengers saw a very exciting
chase before them. A fine stag was swimming across the river, pursued
by dogs and two boats with men in them. The poor beast was trying with
all his strength to escape from his cruel enemies, and the sympathies
of all the passengers were with him. The men in the boats had no guns,
but a net, which they were trying to throw over his head; but each
time they neared him, he shot forward beyond their reach. Maggie and
Bessie were in a state of the wildest excitement, as they watched the
innocent and beautiful creature panting with terror and fatigue; and
their elders were hardly less so. Bessie held fast her father’s hand,
gazing with eager eyes and parted lips, her color coming and going, her
little frame trembling with distress and indignation; and Maggie seized
upon Uncle Ruthven and danced up and down in frantic suspense and alarm
at the danger of the poor beast. His courage seemed giving out, and
his pursuers cheered in triumph; when, summoning up all his strength,
he suddenly turned, and, passing almost under the bow of the steamer,
made for the opposite and nearer shore, thus gaining upon his enemies
as they took time to turn their boats; and cleaving the water, almost
like lightning, he reached the thickly wooded bank, bounded up, and
was lost to sight among the forest trees, and beyond the reach of his
would-be destroyers. A cheer burst from those on board, as the noble
creature disappeared in safety,--a cheer in which Maggie joined with
all her heart, “for I couldn’t help it, and most forgot it was rather
tomboyish,” she afterwards said. But no one found fault with her:
indeed no one could. As for Bessie, she fairly cried, but it was only
with pleasure and the feeling of relief.
Later in the day, they were greatly interested in seeing the shooting
of the Rapids, as the passage of the steamer over the foaming waters is
called. It was a curious sight. The water foamed and bubbled around
the steamer, seeming as though it were eager to draw it down; but the
vessel glided on, rose a little to the billows, plunged, rose again,
and was once more in smooth waters. There were several of these rapids
to be passed; and, although our little girls had been rather frightened
at the first, they soon became accustomed to it, and enjoyed the swift
descent. The crew of the steamer were all Canadians; and, as they came
to each rapid, they struck up some cheery boat-song, which rose sweet
and clear above the roar of the waves, and put heart and courage into
the more timid ones among the passengers.
They soon reached Montreal, where they spent a week; and here again the
opportunity to do a kind act, and leave a blessing behind them, came in
the way of our little sisters.
They were one day passing through the long upper hall of the hotel at
which they stayed, when they met the chamber-maid who waited on their
rooms, crying bitterly. The girl, who was quite young, had her apron
thrown over her head, and seemed in great distress.
“What is the matter, Matilda?” asked nurse, who was with the children.
“I’ve lost my place,” sobbed Matilda; “and I’ve my mother and my two
little brothers to take care of. Oh! whatever will I do?”
“Why are you turned away?” asked nurse, who thought the girl attended
to her duties very well, and was civil and obliging.
Then Matilda took down her apron, showing her face all streaked with
tears, and told her story.
She had, it appeared, been unfortunate,--perhaps rather careless,--and
had broken one or two articles, the loss of which had greatly vexed the
house-keeper, who had told her she should leave her place the next time
she broke any thing. This had made her more careful; but that morning
an accident had occurred which might have happened to any one. Turning
the corner of a corridor, with a pitcher full of water in her hand,
some one had run against her, the pitcher was knocked from her hold,
and broken into a hundred pieces. The house-keeper would hear of no
excuse, and bade her leave the house at once, or pay for the pitcher.
“And I haven’t a penny,” said the girl; “for I sent all my wages to my
mother yesterday to pay her rent, and there’s nothing for it but I must
go. And what is to become of us all, if I don’t get another place right
away?”
Nurse tried to comfort her, by saying she would soon find another
situation; but Matilda replied that was not so easy, and she feared
they would all suffer before she found it; and went away, still crying
bitterly. Maggie and Bessie were very sorry for her.
“I wonder if we haven’t money enough to pay for the pitcher, Bessie,”
said Maggie. “If we had, then maybe the house-keeper would let her
stay; and if she won’t we could give Matilda the money to keep her
mother and brothers from starving.”
“Yes, that’s a good thought of you, Maggie,” said Bessie; “and there’s
the house-keeper now. Let’s run and ask her quick: may we, nursey?”
Nurse gave permission, though she did not think the children would be
successful in their errand of kindness; and said low, either to herself
or baby, whom she carried in her arms,--
“Eh! the little dears will do naught with her. She’s a cross-grained
creature, that house-keeper, and as short in her way as a
snapping-turtle.”
Maggie’s courage began to fail her when she and Bessie ran up to the
house-keeper, and heard the severe tone in which she was speaking to
another servant. It was true that her manner and speech were apt to be
rather harsh and short in dealing with those about her, especially to
the girls who were under her orders; but it must be said in her excuse
that she led rather a trying life, and had a good deal to vex and
trouble her.
Maggie and Bessie stood waiting behind the house-keeper’s stout figure,
till she had, as Maggie afterwards said, “finished up her scoldings,”
when Bessie said rather timidly:--
“Mrs. Housekeeper?”
“Well, what’s wanted now?” asked the woman, turning sharply round; but,
when she saw who was speaking to her, her face softened and her manner
changed.
Now the worst of all this poor woman’s troubles was the long tedious
sickness of her only child, a little girl about Bessie’s age, but
not bright and happy, and able to run about and play like our little
“princess.” This poor child had been ailing for more than six months,
sometimes suffering a great deal, and always very weak; and her mother
had not much time to give to her, since she was obliged to attend to
her duties about the hotel of which she had charge.
When the child was well enough, she was put into a perambulator and
taken out for fresh air; and she had just returned from one of these
rides on the day before this, as Maggie and Bessie came in from a
drive with the elders of their party. They had been to visit an Indian
encampment just outside the city, and returned laden with all manner
of pretty trifles purchased for the dear ones at home, and some for
themselves.
They had each of them also a handful of flowers given to them by some
friend; and, as they passed the sick child lying in her wagon, and
turned towards her with a look of sympathy, Bessie saw her eyes fixed
longingly on the sweet blossoms she held.