HOME LESSONS AND HOME TRIALS.
Buzz, buzz, buzz!--“There’s a bee in a web!” cried Tom, looking up from
the bowl of porridge which he was eating in the rose-covered porch.
“Poor thing!” said Minnie, rising from her seat.
“A precious fright it must be in! what a noise it makes!” cried her
brother.
“It is not much entangled--I think that I could set it free!”--and
Minnie ran up to the web.
“And be stung for your pains. Nonsense--leave it alone. It is good fun
to watch it in its struggles.”
[Illustration: POOR SIPSYRUP IN A SNARE.]
“It never can be good fun to see any creature in misery,” replied
Minnie; and with the help of a little twig, in a very short time poor
Sipsyrup was released from the web.
“Poor little bee!” said Minnie, “it has hurt its wing, and some of the
web is still clinging to its legs. I am afraid that it cannot fly.”
“I hope that it will sting you!” laughed Tom. “Are you going to nurse
and pet it here, and get up an hospital for sick bees?”
“I think that it must belong to our school-mistress’s hive. I will
carry it there, and put it by the opening, and let its companions take
care of it.” And notwithstanding Tom’s scornful laugh, Minnie bore off
the bee on her finger.
“You are the most absurd girl that I ever knew,” said he on her return.
“What does it matter to you what becomes of one bee? I should not mind
smothering a whole hive!”
“Ah, Tom,” said his sister, “when there is so much pain in the world, I
do not think that one would willingly add ever so little to it. And I
have a particular feeling about animals. You know that they were placed
under man, and given to man, and they were all so happy until--until
man sinned; now, innocent as they are, they share his punishment
of pain and of death; and it seems hard that _we_ should make that
punishment more bitter!”
“Then my tender-hearted sister would never taste mutton, I suppose.”
[Illustration: MINNIE AND THE BEE.]
“No; the sheep are given to us for food; but I would make them as happy
as I could while they lived. O Tom, we are commanded in the Bible to be
‘tender-hearted,’ and ‘merciful,’ and surely to be cruel is a grievous
sin!”
“I wonder that you did not crush the spider that would have eaten up
your bee.”
“Why should I? She did nothing wrong. It is Nature that has taught her
to live on such food; I would be merciful to spiders as well as to
bees.”
“You carried off her dinner--she would not thank you for that.”
“Perhaps I did foolishly,” said Minnie with a smile; “but I cannot see
a creature suffering and not try to help it.”
“I wish that you saw the green-grocer’s horse with his bones all
starting through his skin, and the marks of the blows on his head. What
would you say to the master of that horse?”
“Oh, I wish that he would remember that one verse from the Bible,
‘_Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy._’ Without
mercy, what would become of the best--without mercy, we all should be
ruined for ever. And if _only_ the merciful can obtain mercy, oh! what
will become of the cruel?”
“Pshaw!” cried Tom, not able to dispute the truth of Minnie’s words,
but not choosing to listen to them, for he had too many recollections
of bird-nesting, cockchafer-spinning, and worrying of cats, to make
the subject agreeable. Some find it easier to silence an opponent with
a “pshaw!” than by reason or strength of argument; and this was Tom’s
usual way. He did not wish to continue the conversation, and, perhaps
with a view to change its subject, said in a sudden, abrupt tone, as he
stirred his porridge with his pewter spoon--
“You’ve not put a morsel of sugar in my bowl.”
“Yes, indeed, I put some,” replied Minnie.
“But you know that I like plenty; I have told you so a thousand times.”
“But, dear Tom, I have not plenty to give you--we have nearly come to
the end of our little store. And you know,” continued she, lowering her
voice, “that we cannot buy more until we are paid for these shirts.”
The little girl did not add that for the last three days she had not
tasted any sugar herself.
“Nonsense!” cried Tom, starting up from his seat, and hastily entering
the cottage. He took down from the shelf a large broken cup, which was
used to contain the store of sugar. Mrs. Wingfield was lying asleep in
the back-room, being laid up with a worse headache than usual.
Fearing lest her mother should be roused from her sleep, Minnie
followed her brother, her finger on her lip, a look of anxious warning
on her face. But both look and gesture were lost upon Tom, who was
thinking of nothing but himself.
“Here’s plenty for to-day,” he said in a careless tone, emptying half
the supply into his bowl.
“But, Tom--our poor mother--she is ill, you know--”
“Well, I’ve not taken it all.”
“But we cannot afford--”
“Don’t torment me!” cried Tom angrily, helping himself to more.
“Oh, dear Tom,” said the little girl, laying her hand upon his arm.
“I’ll not stand this nonsense!” exclaimed the boy fiercely; and turning
suddenly round, he flung the rest of the sugar into the dusty road.
“There--that serves you right; that will teach you another time to mind
your own business and leave me alone;” and noisily setting down the
empty cup, the boy sauntered out of the cottage.
Something seemed to rise in Minnie’s throat; her heart was swelling,
her cheek was flushed with mingled sorrow and indignation. Oh, how much
patience and meekness we require to meet the daily little trials of
life!
Minnie was roused by her mother’s feeble, fretful voice. “I wish that
you and Tom had a little more feeling for me. You have awoke me with
your noise.”
“I am sorry that you have been disturbed, dear mother; I’ll try and not
let it happen again. Do you feel better now?”
“No one feels better for awaking with a start,” returned Mrs. Wingfield
peevishly. “I should not have expected such thoughtlessness from you.”
Minnie’s eyes were so brimful of tears that she dared not shut them,
lest the drops should run over on her cheek. She knew that her mother
would not like to see her cry, so, turning quietly away, she went to
the small fire to make a little tea for the invalid.
There was nothing that Mrs. Wingfield enjoyed like a cup of warm tea;
and when Minnie brought one to the side of her bed, with a nice little
piece of dry toast beside it, even the sick woman’s worn face looked
almost cheerful. As soon, however, as she had tasted the tea, she set
down the cup with a displeased air.
“You’ve forgotten the sugar, child.”
“Not forgotten, mother, but--but I have none.”
“More shame to you,” cried Mrs. Wingfield, her pale face flushing with
anger; “I am sure that a good deal was left this morning. You might
have thought of your poor sick mother; she has few enough comforts, I
am sure.”
Poor Minnie! she left the room with a very heavy heart; she felt for
some minutes as if nothing could cheer her. Angry with her brother,
grieved at her mother’s undeserved reproach, as she again sat down to
work in the little porch, her tears fell fast over her seam. Presently
Conscience, that inward monitor to whose advice the little girl was
accustomed to listen, began to make itself heard. “This is foolish,
this is wrong,--dry up your tears, they can but give pain to your sick
mother. You must patiently bear with the fretfulness of illness, and
not add to its burden by showing that you feel it. You know that you
have not acted selfishly, you need not regret your own conduct in the
affair,--is not that the greatest of comforts? But I know very well,”
still Conscience whispered in her heart, “that you never will feel
quite peaceful and happy till no anger remains towards your brother. A
little sin disturbs peace more than a great deal of sorrow; ask for aid
to put away this sin.”
Minnie listened to the quiet voice of Conscience, and gradually her
tears stopped and her flushed cheek became cool. She made a hundred
excuses in her mind for poor Tom. He had been always much indulged,--he
would be sorry for what he had done,--how much better he was than other
boys that she knew, who drank, or swore, or stole. And for herself,
what a sin it was to have felt so miserable! How many blessings were
given her to enjoy! She had health, and sight, and fingers able to do
work; and neither she nor her mother had difficulty in procuring it,
the ladies around were so kind. Then there was the church, and the
school, and the Best of Books;--and the world was so beautiful, with
its bright sun and sweet flowers,--there was so much to enjoy, so much
to be thankful for! And Minnie raised her eyes to the blue sky above,
all dotted over with rosy clouds; for it was the hour of sunset, and
she thought of the bright happy place to which her dear father had
gone, and how she might hope to join him there, and never know sorrow
again. What wonder, with such sweet thoughts for her companions, if
Minnie’s face again grew bright, and she worked away in her little
porch with a feeling of peace and grateful love in her breast which a
monarch might have envied.
[Illustration]