LITTLE BEN'S GUINEA PIG.
BEN loved little animals. He not only liked to have them about him, but
it gave him great joy to protect them. One of his pets was a guinea pig.
"There are few traits of character that speak better for the future of a
boy than that which seeks to protect the helpless and overlooked in the
brute creation," said Uncle Benjamin to Abiah Franklin one day. "There
are not many animals that have so many enemies as a guinea pig. Cats,
dogs, and even the hens run after the harmless little thing. I wonder
that this one should be alive now. He would have been dead but for Ben."
Abiah had been spinning. It was a windy day, and the winds, too, had
been spinning as it were around the house. She had stopped to rest in
her work. But the winds had not stopped, but kept up a sound like that
of the wheel.
"You are always saying good things about little Ben," said Abiah. "What
is it that you see in him that is different from other boys?"
"_Personality_," said Uncle Ben. "Look at him now, out in the yard. He
has been protecting the pigeon boxes from the wind, and after them the
rabbit warren. He is always seeking to make life more comfortable for
everybody and everything. Now, Abiah, a heart that seeks the good of
others will never want for a friend and a home. This _personality_ will
make for him many friends and some enemies in the future. The power of
life lies in the heart."
The weather door opened, and little Ben came into the room and asked for
a cooky out of the earthen jar.
"Where's your guinea pig, my boy?" asked Uncle Benjamin. "I only see him
now and then."
"Why do you call him a guinea pig, uncle?" asked little Ben. "He did not
come from Guinea, and he is not a pig. He came from South America, where
it is warm, and he is a covey; he is not a bit of a rabbit, and not a
pig."
"Where do you keep him?" asked Uncle Benjamin.
"I keep him where he is warm, uncle. It makes my heart all shrink up to
see the little thing shiver when the wind strikes him. It is cruel to
bring such animals into a climate like this."
"There are tens of thousands of guinea pigs, or coveys, in the land
where they are found. Yes, millions, I am told. One guinea pig don't
count for much."
"But, uncle, one feels the cold wind as much as another would--as much
as each of all the millions would."
"But, Ben, you have not answered my question. Where is the little covey
now?"
Little Ben colored red, and looked suspiciously toward the door of the
room in which his father was at work. He presently saw his father's
paper hat through the light over the door, and said:
"Let me tell you some other time, uncle. They will laugh at me if I tell
you now."
"Benjamin," said his mother, "we are going to have a family gathering
this year on the anniversary of the day when your father landed here in
1685. The family are all coming home, and the two Folger girls--the
schoolmarms--will be here from Nantucket. You will have to take the
guinea-pig box out of your room under the eaves. The Folger girls are
very particular. What would your aunts Hannah and Patience Folger, the
schoolmarms, say if they were to find your room a sty for a guinea pig?"
"My little covey, mother," said Ben. "I'll put the cage into the shop.
No, he would be killed there. I'll put him where he will not offend my
aunts, mother."
Abiah Folger began to spin again, and the wheel and the wind united did
indeed make a lonely atmosphere. Uncle Benjamin punched the fire, which
roared at times lustily under the great shelf where were a row of pewter
platters.
Little Ben drew near the fire. Suddenly Uncle Ben started.
"Oh, my eyes! what is that, Ben?"
Ben looked about.
"I don't see anything, uncle."
"Your coat sleeve keeps jumping. I have seen it four or five times. What
is the matter there?"
Uncle Ben put the tongs in the chimney nook, and said:
"There is a bunch on your arm, Ben."
"No, no, no, uncle."
"There is, and it moves about."
"I have no wound, or boil, nor anything, uncle."
"There it goes again, or else my head is wrong. There! there! Abiah,
stop spinning a minute and come here."
The wheel stopped. Abiah, with a troubled look, came to the hearth and
leaned over it with one hand against the shelf.
"What has he been doing now?" she asked in a troubled tone.
"Look at his arm there! It bulges out."
Uncle Ben put out his hand to touch the protrusion. He laid his finger
on the place carefully, when suddenly the bunch was gone, and just then
appeared a little head outside the sleeve.
"I told you that there was something there! I knew that there was all
the time."
There was--it was the little covey or guinea pig.
"What did I tell you before Ben came in?" said Uncle Benjamin.
Little Ben did not know what his uncle had said to his mother before he
opened the door; but he heard him say now mysteriously:
"It is a cold day for shelterless things. That little bunch on his arm
illustrates what I mean by personality. There are more guinea pigs than
one in this cold world."
Abiah went to her wheel in silence, and it began to buzz again.
Little Ben went into the room where his father was at work.
The wheel stopped.
"I do love that boy," said Abiah, "notwithstanding all the fault they
find with him."
"So do I, Abiah. I'm glad that you made him my godson. All people are
common in this world except those who have personality. He had a
great-uncle that was just like him, and, Abiah, he became a friend of
Lord Halifax."
"I am afraid that poor little Ben, after all his care of the guinea pig,
will never commend himself to Lord Halifax. But we can not tell."
"No, Abiah, we can not tell, but stranger things have happened, and such
things begin in that way."