|WHILE the turkeys were having their night’s rest outside the farmhouse,
and big people and little dreamed sweetly within, the strawberries lay
in their broad bed, with their rosy faces upturned to the brilliant
heavens. They were awaiting the coming of the dawn, and were whispering
to each other, as they snuggled closely together, cheek to cheek, about
the great event that was to happen in the morning.
“We are going to the city,” said the elder sisters, to the little ones
that were half-hidden under the coverlet.
“We have to do our part in the world now that we are ready. Our kind
Creator has given us wondrous opportunities for improvement, and we have
made the most of his sunshine, and his showers. How we have drank in all
his benefits! And now we, in our turn, are to bless others. We are to
refresh the sick and fevered, and to make eye and heart brighten at our
presence. You, dear little sisters, will stay at home for a while longer
until you are perfected in the virtues that are needful to your success
in an outside ministry. Think pleasantly and lovingly of us when we are
gone, and try so to grow in goodness, that you may soon follow us on the
mission that is appointed to all the worthy members of our family.”
The little ones were tearful in the darkness, but they did not break out
into sobbing, for they knew that what God ordains is all right, and
they were very glad that their sisters and themselves were to be sent
on errands of cheer to mankind. Still it was natural enough, and by no
means wrong to weep at the separation that must occur; so they clung to
each other all the night, and the elders bent down and kissed them over
and over again, and were so gentle and loving, and said such words of
hope and cheer, that, when Gill and Ben and Sally came to the bed before
the sun-rising, they said, “How bright and beautiful the strawberries
look this morning! It makes one laugh to look at their glad faces.”
And, sure enough! the big ones were all ready for their journey, and
the little ones seemed contented as they bade their sisters good-by, and
crept under the coverlet to take one more nap before the sun should be
up; for the very young need more sleep than the vigorous youth or maiden
needs, we know.
“Aunt Maud can have nothing to do with strawberries; is it not a pity?”
said Ben. “She says they make her skin prickle, and irritate her tongue
and throat so that they itch dreadfully, and they give her a sort of
fever, as the roses do,--that is very queer.”
“Not so very,” said Gill, when one understands that the strawberry
belongs to the rose family.
“Does it?” said the children, in surprise, “we did not know that,--the
leaves do look something like a rose-leaf.”
“Yes,” said the Scotchman. “Both the strawberry and the raspberry belong
to the rose family, and people who are affected with the ‘rose cold’ are
seldom able to eat these fruits. It must be a sad deprivation.”
“I should hate to be obliged to go without strawberries,” said Sally. “I
think there is nothing so nice in all the world.”
“‘Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never
did,’”, said Gill, who was fond of quoting whatever he had read, if it
happened to please him.
“I know from whom you got that,” said Ben. “I heard mamma read it from
Isaac Walton the other day.”
“He did not say it, though,” said Gill. “He took it from Doctor Boteler,
but it is true enough whoever said it; for never was there a better
fruit than the strawberry.”
Gill held up a stem with a cluster of the scarlet berries, and looked at
them with admiration.
“How luscious they are!” he said, “and how beautiful, too, in form and
color! See how the little yellow seeds contrast with the red pulp, and
what a pretty green cup holds the fruit, and how gracefully the berry
hangs from the stem.”
Gill was always eloquent over the productions of the earth. “They are
our heavenly Father’s handiwork,” he said. “No wonder there is so much
glory and perfection!”
The Scotchman took great pains with the strawberry-bed. He planted the
roots in rows and hills, and when the creeping shoots made new stocks,
he transplanted these to another place, never letting them run thickly
together and form a tangled mass. His strawberry-vines were large
and fine, and the triple leaves were broad and green, upon their long
foot-stalk and in the midst of them shot up silky stems, with pure white
blossoms, like snowflakes, at the top, and, by and by, the snowflakes
vanished, and the little pale-green berries appeared, and grew, and
grew, and changed into the perfect scarlet fruit which is so delicious
of itself, and yet is varied by being eaten with cream and sugar, and by
being made into jam and short-cakes and other dishes. It seems almost an
insult to this lovely berry to add any thing to it, as if we thought it
capable of improvement. For my part, I think it never so delicious as
when it is eaten off the vines while the dew is upon it. Only it makes
one feel a trifle sorrowful, if one sees in the dew the tears of the
little sisters and the big, as if they wept at the thought of the
separation that was to come. But, then, we must not expect all joy and
sweetness in the things of this world. We ought to be willing to take
the evil with the good. I mean what we call evil; for there is no evil
for any of us in what comes from God’s hand. It must be all good to us,
whatever it may seem to our poor, half-blind hearts and eyes.
Gill and the children had so many little wooden baskets filled with the
rich, ripe fruit! It shone through the side-slits right temptingly, and
was covered at the top with fresh, green leaves. The gooseberries and
currants were none the worse for being picked over night. It would be
different, by and by, when they should be softened and made ruddy by the
ripening sun.
The turkeys knew enough to vacate the old market-cart before Gill came
along with Dobbin, though one had the impudence to hop up, when the
Scotchman’s back was turned, and stick his bill under a green leaf, and
get one of the very nicest of the scarlet berries. Gill drove him away,
and there was a great scampering, for the berry shone red in his mouth,
and all the brothers and sisters wanted it--ill-gotten gains, though
it was--and, after all, he had to keep such watch, and was so worried
before he could get away by himself into a sly corner, that he had poor
enjoyment of it I am sure. But then we must not forget that he was
only a turkey, and, of course, knew nothing of the wrong of picking and
stealing.