_THE POST-OFFICE_
On Monday Mr. Bradford went up to New York to attend to some business.
He was to come back on Wednesday afternoon; and on the morning of that
day, grandmamma sent over to know if Mrs. Bradford would like to have
her carriage, and drive to the railway station to meet him. Mamma said
yes; and told Maggie and Bessie they might go with her. She offered
to take Harry and Fred, too; but they wanted to go clam-fishing with
Mr. Jones; so she took Franky and baby instead, and carried baby
herself, telling nurse and Jane that they might have a holiday for the
afternoon. The little girls were delighted at the thought of going to
meet their dear father; for he had been gone three days, and they had
missed him very much.
The first part of the ride was through the sand, where the wheels went
in so deep that the horses had hard work to draw the carriage and went
very slowly, but the children did not mind that at all. They liked to
hear the sound of the wheels grating through the sand, and to watch how
they took it up and threw it off again as they moved round and round.
At last the carriage turned off to the right, and now the road was
firmer and harder, and, after a time, ran through the woods. This was
delightful, it was so cool and shady. Baby seemed to think this was a
good place for a nap, for she began to shut her eyes and nod her little
head about, till mamma laid her down in her lap, where she went fast
asleep. James took Franky in front with him and let him hold the end
of the reins, and Franky thought he was driving quite as much as the
good-natured coachman, and kept calling out "Get up," and "Whoa," which
the horses did not care for in the least.
There was a little stream which ran along by the side of the road,
and at last bent itself right across it, so that the carriage had to
go over a small bridge. Just beyond the bridge the stream widened into
quite a large pool. James drove his horses into it, and stopped to let
them take a drink.
It was a lovely, shady spot. The trees grew close around the pool and
met overhead, and there were a number of small purple flowers growing
all around. James tried to reach some of them with his whip, but
they were too far away, so the children were disappointed. When the
horses had stopped drinking, there was not a sound to be heard but the
twittering of the birds in the branches, and the little ripple of the
water as it flowed over the stones.
"Let's stay here a great while, mamma," said Bessie, "it is so
pleasant."
"And what would papa do when he came and found no one waiting for him?"
said Mrs. Bradford.
"Oh, yes! let us make haste then," said Bessie; "we mustn't make him
disappointed for a million waters."
But mamma said there was time enough; so they staid a few moments
longer, and then drove on. At last they passed from the beautiful green
wood into a space where there was no shade. There were bushes and very
small trees to be sure, but they were low and scrubby and grew close
together in a kind of tangled thicket. These reached as far as they
could see on either side, and came so near to the edge of the road,
that once, when James had to make way for a heavy hay wagon, and drew
in his horses to let it pass, Maggie stretched her hand out of the
carriage and pulled some sprigs from one of the bushes.
"Mamma, do you know that funny old man?" asked Bessie, as the driver of
the hay wagon nodded to her mother, and Mrs. Bradford smiled and nodded
pleasantly in return.
"No, dear; but in these lonely country places it is the custom for
people to nod when they pass each other."
"Why, we don't do that in New York," said Maggie.
"No, it would be too troublesome to speak to every one whom we met
in the streets of a great city; and people there would think it very
strange and impertinent if you bowed to them when you did not know
them."
"Mamma," said Maggie, "I don't like the kind of country there is here,
at all. What makes all these bushes grow here?"
Then mamma told how all this ground was once covered with just such
beautiful woods as they had passed through, and how they were set on
fire by the sparks from a train of cars, how the fire spread for miles
and miles, and burned for many days; and the people could do nothing to
stop it, until God sent a change of wind and a heavy rain which put it
out. She told them how many poor people were burnt out of their houses,
and how the little birds and squirrels and other animals were driven
from their cosy homes in the woods, and many of them scorched to death
by this terrible fire. Then for a long time the ground where these
woods had grown was only covered with ashes and charred logs, till at
last these tangled bushes had sprung up. Mamma said she supposed that
by and by the people would cut down the underbrush, and then the young
trees would have space to grow.
By the time she had finished her long story they reached the Station
and found that they had a few moments to wait, for it was not yet quite
time for the train.
There was a locomotive standing on the track, and when the horses saw
it they began to prick up their ears and to dance a little; so James
turned their heads and drove them up by the side of the depot, where
they could not see it. On the other side of the road was a small, white
building, and over the door was a sign with large black letters upon it.
"P-O-S-T, porst," spelled Maggie.
"Post," said mamma.
"Post, O double F."
"O-F, of," said mamma again.
"O-F, of, F-I-C-E; oh, it's the post-office. I wonder if there is a
letter there for us from Grandpapa Duncan."
"Perhaps there may be," said Mrs. Bradford. "I told Mr. Jones we would
inquire for the letters. James, will it do for you to leave the horses?"
"I think not, ma'am," said James. "They are a little onasy yet, and if
she squales they'll run."
"And I cannot go because of baby," said mamma; "we must wait till papa
comes."
"I wish we could get our letter if it is there," said Maggie; "we could
read it while we are waiting for papa."
"There's a nice civil man there, Mrs. Bradford," said James, "and if
you didn't mind Miss Maggie going over, I could lift her out, and he'll
wait on her as if it was yourself."
"Oh, James," said Maggie; "I couldn't do it, not for anything. I
couldn't indeed, mamma."
"Well, dear, you need not, if you are afraid."
"But I would like to have our letter so much, mamma."
"So would I," said Bessie. "And when dear papa comes we will want to
talk to him and not to yead our letter."
"Maybe it is not there," said Maggie.
"But we would like to know," said Bessie. "Could I go, mamma?"
"You are almost too little I think, dear."
"Well," said Maggie, slowly, "I guess I'll go. Mamma, will you look at
me all the time?"
"Yes, dear, and there is nothing to hurt you. Just walk in at that
door, and you will see a man there. Ask him if there are any letters to
go to Mr. Jones's house."
"Yes, mamma, and be very sure you watch all the time."
James came down from his seat and lifted Maggie from the carriage. She
walked very slowly across the road, every step or two looking back to
see if her mother was watching her. Mrs. Bradford smiled and nodded to
her, and at last Maggie went in at the door. But the moment she was
inside, her mother saw her turn round and fly out of the post-office as
if she thought something terrible was after her. She tore back across
the road and came up to the carriage looking very much frightened.
"Why, Maggie, what is it, dear?" asked her mother.
"Oh, mamma, there is a hole there, and a man put his face in it; please
put me in the carriage, James."
"Oh, foolish little Maggie," said mamma; "that man was the post-master,
and he came to the hole as you call it, to see what you wanted. If you
had waited and told him, he would have looked to see if there were any
letters for us."
"He had such queer spectacles on," said Maggie.
"I wish I could go," said Bessie; "I wouldn't be afraid of him. I do
want to know if Grandpapa Duncan's letter is there."
"Then you may try," said her mother; "take her out, James."
So Bessie was lifted out of the carriage, and went across the road
as Maggie had done. She walked into the post-office and saw the hole
Maggie had spoken of, but no one was looking out of it. It was a square
opening cut in a wooden partition which divided the post-office. On one
side was the place where Bessie stood, and where people came to ask for
their letters; on the other was the postmaster's room, where he kept
the letters and papers till they were called for.
Bessie looked around and saw no one. She always moved very gently, and
she had come in so quietly that the post-master had not heard her.
There was a chair standing in front of "the hole." Bessie pushed it
closer, and climbing upon it, put her little face through, and looked
into the post-master's side of the room. He was sitting there reading.
He was an ugly old man, and wore green goggles, which Maggie had called
"such queer spectacles." But Bessie was not afraid of him.
"How do you do, Mr. Post Officer?" she said. "I came for our letter."
The post-master looked up. "Well, you're a big one to send after a
letter," he said. "Who is it for?"
"For Maggie and me, and it is from Grandpapa Duncan; has it come?"
"Where are you from?" asked the post-master, laughing.
"From Mr. Jones's house. Oh, I forgot, mamma said I was to ask if any
letters had come for Mr. Jones's house."
"Then I suppose you are Mr. Bradford's daughter?"
"Yes, I am," said Bessie.
"And are you the little girl who came in here just now, and ran right
out again?"
"Oh, no, sir; that was Maggie. Poor Maggie is shy, and she said you
looked out of a hole at her."
"And you looked in a hole at me, but I did not run away. If I was to
run away you could not get your letter."
"Is it here, sir?" asked Bessie.
"Well, I reckon it may be," said the post-master; "what's your name?"
"My name is Bessie, and my sister's is Maggie."
"Here is one apiece then," said the post-master, taking up some
letters. "Here is one for Miss Bessie Bradford; that's you, is it? and
one for Miss Maggie Bradford, that's your sister, I reckon."
"What! one for myself, and one for Maggie's self," said Bessie. "Are
they from Grandpapa Duncan?"
"I don't know," said the post-master. "You will have to open them to
find that out."
"Oh, how nice; please let me have them, sir; I am very much obliged to
you."
"Stop, stop," cried the post-master, as Bessie jumped down from the
chair, and was running off with her prizes. "Here are some more papers
and letters for your folks."
But Bessie did not hear him; she was already out of the door, running
over to the carriage with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, holding
up a letter in each hand. "Oh, Maggie, Maggie," she called, "that nice
post-officer gave me two letters, one for you, and one for me; wasn't
he kind?"
"I think it was a kind Grandpapa Duncan, who took the trouble to write
two letters," said Mrs. Bradford.
"So it was," said Maggie. "Mamma, will you read them for us?"
"In a moment," said Mrs. Bradford; and then she turned to speak to the
post-master, who had followed Bessie to the carriage with the papers
and letters which she had been in too great a hurry to wait for. She
thanked him, and he went back and stood at the door watching the eager
little girls while their mother read to them. She opened Maggie's
letter first. It said,
"MY DEAR LITTLE MAGGIE:--
"I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive the very
nice letter which you and Bessie sent me. I have put it in
a safe place in my writing desk, and shall keep it as long
as I live. As you wrote it together, perhaps you expected
that I would make one answer do for both; but I thought you
would be better pleased if I sent a letter for each one.
"I am glad to hear that you like Quam Beach so much; but
you must not let it make you forget dear old Riverside. I
am fond of the sea myself, and do not know but I may take a
run down to see you some day this summer. Do you think you
could give a welcome to the old man? and would Mrs. Jones
make him such a famous turnover as she made for you?
"I went this morning to see your friend Jemmy, for I
thought you would like to hear something about him. He
was out in the little garden, on the shady side of the
house, sitting in his chair with his books beside him,
and a happier or more contented boy I never saw. He was
alone, except for his dog and rabbits, for his mother was
washing, and Mary was out. Mrs. Bent brought me a chair,
and I sat and talked to Jemmy for some time. I asked him
which of all his books he liked best. 'Oh, my Bible, sir,'
he said. 'I think it is with the Bible and other books,
just like it is with people, Mr. Duncan.' 'How so?' I
asked. 'Why, sir,' he answered, 'when Mary and mother are
away, the neighbors often come in to sit with me and talk
a bit. They are very kind, and I like to have them tell me
about things; but no matter how much they make me laugh or
amuse me, 'tain't like mother's voice; and if I am sick, or
tired, or uncomfortable, or even glad, there ain't nobody
that seems to have just the right thing to say, so well as
her. And it's just so with the Bible, I think; it always
has just the very thing I want: whether it's comfort and
help, or words to say how happy and thankful I feel. The
other books I like just as I do the neighbors; but the
Bible I love just as I do mother. I suppose the reason is
that the Bible is God's own words, and he loved and pitied
us so that he knew what we would want him to say, just as
mother loves and pities me, and so knows what I like her
to say.' Happy Jemmy! he knows how to love and value God's
holy book, that most precious gift, in which all may find
what their souls need. May my little Maggie learn its worth
as the poor lame boy has done.
"I really think your chair has done Jemmy good. He looks
brighter, and has a better color and appetite since he has
been able to be out of doors so much. I do not suppose he
will ever be able to walk again, but he does not fret about
that, and is thankful for the blessings that are left to
him. If you and Bessie could see how much he enjoys the
chair, you would feel quite repaid for any pains you took
to earn it for him. And now, my darling, I think I must put
the rest of what I have to say, in your little sister's
letter. Write to me soon again, and believe me
"Your loving grandpapa,
"CHARLES DUNCAN."
Just as mama was finishing this letter, the train came in sight, and
she said she must leave Bessie's letter till they were at home. In
a few minutes they saw their dear father coming towards them, and a
man following with his bag and a great basket. Then papa was in the
carriage, and such a hugging and kissing as he took and gave. Franky
came inside that he might have his share, too; and baby woke up,
good-natured as she always was, and smiled and crowed at her father
till he said he really thought she knew him, and was glad to see him.
Mamma was quite sure she did.
When they had all settled down once more, and papa had asked and
answered a good many questions, he said, "Maggie and Bessie, I met a
very curious old gentleman to-day; what strange question do you think
he asked me?"
The children were sure they did not know.
"He asked me if there were any little girls down this way who wrote
letters to old gentleman?"
Maggie and Bessie looked at each other, and Maggie shook her head very
knowingly; but they waited to hear what papa would say next.
"I told him I thought I knew of two such young damsels, and what do you
think he did then?"
"What?" asked both the little girls at once.
"He handed me these two parcels and told me if I could find any such
little letter-writers, to ask them if they would prove useful."
As Mr. Bradford spoke, he produced two parcels. Like the letters, they
were directed one to Miss Maggie Bradford, and the other to Miss Bessie
Bradford. They were quickly opened, and inside were two purple leather
writing cases, very small, but as Bessie said, "perfaly pretty." They
had steel corners and locks, and a plate with each little girl's name
engraved upon her own. In each were found a small inkstand, a pen, and
two pencils, two sticks of sealing wax, and best of all, tiny note
paper and envelopes stamped M. S. B., and B. R. B.
It would have done Grandpapa Duncan good to have seen his pets'
pleasure. Maggie fairly screamed with delight. "Oh, such paper, such
lovely stamped paper."
"And such _embelopes_," said Bessie, "with our own name letters on
them."
"I am going to write to every one I know in the world," cried Maggie.
"Mamma," said Bessie, when they had looked again and again at their
beautiful presents, "I do think God has made all my people the very
best people that ever lived. I don't think any little girls have such
people as mine."
"I suppose every other little girl thinks the same thing, Bessie."
"Mamma, how can they? they don't have you, nor papa, nor Maggie, nor
Grandpapa Duncan, nor grandmamma;" and Bessie went on naming all the
people whom she loved, and who loved her.
Papa asked if they had not each had a letter from Grandpapa Duncan. The
writing cases had almost made them forget the letters; but now they
showed them to papa, and he told Bessie he would read hers. He let her
open it herself, and taking her on his knee, read:
"MY DEAR LITTLE BESSIE,--
"Maggie will tell you how much I was pleased with the
letter you both sent me, but I must thank you for your
share in it. Your old grandpapa is very happy to know that
his little pets think about him, and care for him when they
are away. I am glad to hear that you are better, and hope
you will come home with cheeks as red as Maggie's.
"We are all well here except poor little Nellie, who is
cutting some teeth which hurt her very much, and make her
rather fretful. She has learned to say two or three words,
and among them she makes a curious sound which her mamma
declares to be a very plain grandpapa; as she looks at me
every time she says it, I suppose I must believe it is so;
but I must say it does not sound much like it to my ears.
However, she loves her old grandpapa dearly, which is a
great pleasure to me.
"Your little dog Flossy is growing finely. He is very
pretty and lively, and will make a fine playmate for you
and Maggie when you come home. I went down to Donald's
cottage the other day and found all four of the puppies
playing before the door while Alice sat on the steps
watching them. She says they are growing very mischievous
and have already broken two or three of Donald's fine
plants, so that when she lets them out for a play, she has
to keep her eye on them all the time. Alice asked about you
and Maggie, and I could not help wishing with her that you
were there to see your little doggie. It will be pleasant
to have you at Riverside again in the autumn. Send me
another letter, if you wish to please
"Your loving grandpapa,
"CHARLES DUNCAN."