_SOUL AND INSTINCT._
"Papa," said Maggie, the next morning, as she sat on his knee at
the breakfast-table, leaning her aching little head against his
breast,--"papa, is there anything in the paper about our 'sault and
battery?"
"About what?"
"Our 'sault and battery," said Maggie. "The other day, Uncle John was
reading to Aunt Helen how Mr. King was knocked down, and beaten by a
man who didn't like him; and he called it an 'unprovoked 'sault and
battery.' I thought that meant when somebody hit somebody that didn't
do anything to him."
"So it does," said her father, trying not to smile, "and yours was a
most 'unprovoked assault and battery,' my poor little woman; but there
is nothing in the paper about it."
"Do you think that there should be?" asked Mrs. Bradford.
"Oh, no, mamma; I'm very glad there isn't. I thought maybe the
paper-maker would hear about it, and put it into his paper; and I
didn't want people to be reading about Bessie and me. Do you think he
would do it another day, papa?"
"I think not, dear; you need not be afraid."
"I don't see what's the reason then," said Harry. "Maggie is a real
heroine, and so is Bessie. Why, there isn't a boy at Quam, however big
he is, that would dare to fight Joe Sands; and to think of our mite of
a Bess standing out against him, and holding fast to the pocket-book,
and Maggie running to the rescue!"
"Yes, you little speck of nothing ground down to a point," said Uncle
John, catching Bessie up in his arms, "how dared you hold your ground
against such a great rough boy as that?"
"Why, it was the colonel's pocket-book," said Bessie, "and he was
going to take it, and it wasn't his; so I _had_ to take care of it, you
know. I couldn't let him do such a naughty thing."
"They're bricks, both of them," said Harry.
"So they are," said Fred; for both of the boys were very proud of their
little sisters' courage; "and Maggie has the right stuff in her, if she
is shy. She is a little goose where there is nothing to be afraid of,
and a lion where there is."
"Holloa! what is all this heap of pennies for?" asked the colonel, a
while after, as he came into Mrs. Jones' parlor, and found Maggie and
Bessie, like the famous king, "counting out their money." He had come
up the bank and paid them a visit two or three times since Maggie's
birthday, so that they were not very much surprised to see him.
"But first tell me how that poor little head and face are, Maggie? Why,
you do look as if you'd been to the wars. Never mind, the bruises will
soon wear away; and as for the cut, your hair will hide that. It is
not every soldier that gets over his scars so easily; and you must not
be ashamed of yours while they last. But you have not told me what you
are going to do with so much money," he added, when he was comfortably
seated in the arm-chair.
"Oh, it isn't much," said Maggie; "it is only a little, and we wish it
was a whole lot."
"And what do you and Bessie want with a whole lot of money? I should
think you had about everything little girls could wish for."
"Yes, we have," said Bessie, "and we don't want it for ourselves."
"Who for, then?"
"For those poor shipyecked people. Papa and Uncle John have gone over
to see them; and mamma and Aunt Helen have gone to the village to buy
some flannel and calico to make things for the poor little children
who have lost theirs. Mr. Howard says there's a baby there that hasn't
anything but a ni'-gown, and no mother, 'cause she was drowned. A
sailor man has it, and he's going to take care of it, but he hasn't
any clothes for it. And we wanted to help buy things, but we have such
a very little money."
"Bessie has such a little, 'cause she spent all hers for my birthday
present," said Maggie. "Mamma gives us six cents a week, but it's such
a little while since my birthday, Bessie hasn't saved much. I have more
than she has, but not a great deal."
"And she wanted mamma to let her hem a pock'-han'kerchief and earn some
money," said Bessie, "but she can't, for the doctor says she musn't use
her eye while it's so black."
"Well," said the colonel, "I think you two have fairly earned the right
to dispose of at least half the money that was in that unfortunate
pocket-book. You shall say what shall be done with it."
Maggie looked as if she did not know what to say.
"If you mean, sir," said Bessie, "that you're going to give us half
that money, papa and mamma would not like it. They don't allow us to
yeceive money from people who are not yelations to us."
"And they are quite right," said the colonel. "I should not like you to
do it, if you were my little girls. But I do not mean that I will give
_you_ the money, only that I will give it away for any purpose you may
choose. Your father and mother can have no objection to that. There
were fifty dollars in the pocket-book. Half of that is twenty-five.
Now, shall I give it all to the shipwrecked people, or shall I give
part to something else?"
"Will you please to 'scuse me if I whisper to Maggie?" said Bessie.
"Certainly," said the colonel.
They whispered together for a minute or two, and then Bessie said, "If
you didn't mind it, sir, we would like to give half to Mrs. Sands;
she's very poor, and sick too; and she's in such a trouble 'cause Joe's
so bad. She has no one to work for her or do anything. Mamma sent Jane
to see her, and she told us about her; and we're so very sorry for her."
"Well, you are two forgiving little souls," said the colonel. "Do you
want me to give money to the mother of the boy who treated you so?"
"_She_ didn't treat us so," said Maggie, "and we would like her to be
helped 'cause she's so very poor. She cried about the pocket-book,
and she is a good woman. She couldn't help it if Joe was so bad. We
can't help being a little speck glad that Joe is shut up, he's such
a dangerous boy; and we'd be afraid of him now; but his mother feels
very bad about it. So if you want to do what we like with the money,
sir, please give half to the baby in the shipwreck, and half to Joe's
mother."
"Just as you please," said the colonel; "twelve and a half to the baby,
twelve and a half to Mrs. Sands. I shall give the baby's money to Mrs.
Rush, and ask her to buy what it needs. Will not that be the best way?"
The children said yes, and were much pleased at the thought that Mrs.
Sands and the little orphan baby were to be made comfortable with part
of the money which they had saved.
"Now, suppose we go out on the piazza," said the colonel; "Mrs. Rush is
there talking to Grandpa Duncan, and I told them I would come out again
when I had seen you."
"But there's no arm-chair out there," said Maggie.
"Never mind; the settee will do quite as well for a while."
But when Mrs. Jones happened to pass by, and saw the colonel sitting
on the piazza, nothing would do but she must bring out the arm-chair,
and make a great fuss to settle him comfortably. Maggie could not help
confessing she was very kind, even if she did not always take the most
pleasant way of showing it.
"What are you thinking of, Bessie?" asked the colonel, after he had
talked to Mr. Duncan for some time.
Bessie was sitting on the piazza step, looking at Toby with a very
grave face, as he lay beside her with his head in her lap.
"I am so sorry for Toby," she answered.
"Why, I think he is as well off as a dog can be. He looks very
comfortable there with his head in your lap."
"But he hasn't any soul to be saved," said the child.
"He does not know that," said the colonel, carelessly; "it does not
trouble him."
"But," said Bessie, "if he had a soul, and knew Jesus died to save it,
he would be a great deal happier. It makes us feel so happy to think
about that. Isn't that the yeason people are so much better and happier
than dogs, grandpa?"
"That's the reason they should be happier and better, dear."
"There are some people who know they have souls to be saved, who don't
think about it, and don't care if Jesus did come to die for them; are
there not, grandpa?" said Maggie.
"Yes, Maggie, there are very many such people."
"Then they can't be happy," said Bessie,--"not as happy as Toby, for he
don't know."
"I don't believe Joe thinks much about his soul," said Maggie.
"I am afraid not," answered Mr. Duncan.
"Grandpa," said Bessie, "if people know about their souls, and don't
care, I don't think they are much better than Toby."
"But, grandpa," said Maggie, "Toby behaves just as if he knew some
things are naughty, and other things right. How can he tell if he
has no soul? How did he know it was naughty for Joe to steal the
pocket-book; and what is the reason he knows Susie must not go near the
fire nor the cellar stairs?"
"It is instinct which teaches him that," said grandpa.
"What is that?"
"We cannot tell exactly. It is something which God has given to animals
to teach them what is best for themselves and their young. It is not
reason, for they have no soul nor mind as men, women, and children
have; but by it some animals, such as dogs and horses, often seem to
know what is right and wrong. It is instinct which teaches the bird to
build her nest. I am an old man, and I suppose you think I know a great
deal, but if I wanted to build a house for my children, I would not
know how to do it unless I were shown. But little birdie, untaught by
any one,--led only by the instinct which God has given her,--makes her
nest soft and comfortable for her young. It is instinct which teaches
Toby to know a man or a boy who is to be trusted from one who is not;
which makes him keep Susie from creeping into danger when he is told to
take care of her."
"And, grandpa," said Bessie, "Toby had an instinct about our baby, too.
The other day, when nurse left her asleep in the cradle, and went down
stairs for a few minutes, she woke up and fretted. Toby heard her, and
went down stairs, and pulled nurse's dress, and made her come up after
him to baby."
"Yes, that was his instinct," said Mr. Duncan. "He knew that baby
wanted to be taken up, and that nurse should come to her."
"He did such a funny thing the other day," said Maggie, "when Fred
played him a trick. You know he brings Mr. Jones' old slippers every
evening, and puts them by the kitchen door, so Mr. Jones can have them
all ready when he comes from his work. You tell it, Bessie, it hurts my
face to speak so much."
"Well," said Bessie, who was always ready to talk, "Fred took the
slippers, and hid them in his trunk, 'cause he wanted to see what Toby
would do. Toby looked and looked all over, but the poor fellow could
not find them. So at last he brought an old pair of yubber over-shoes,
and put them by the kitchen door. Then he went away and lay down behind
the door, and he looked so 'shamed, and so uncomf'able, Maggie and I
felt yeal sorry for him, and we wanted to show him where the slippers
were, but we didn't know ourselves, and Fred wouldn't tell us. Then
Fred called him ever so many times, but he was very cross, and growled,
and would not go at all till Fred said, 'Come, old dog, come, get the
slippers.' Then he came out and yan after Fred, and we all yan, and it
was so funny to see him. He was so glad, and he pulled out the slippers
and put them in their place, and then he took the old yubbers and put
them in the closet, and lay down with his paws on the slippers, as if
he thought somebody would take them away again. And now Mrs. Jones says
that every morning he hides them in a place of his own, where no one
can find them but his own self. I think that is very smart; don't you,
grandpa?"
"Very smart," said Mr. Duncan; "Toby is a wise dog."
"But, grandpa, don't Toby have conscience, too, when he knows what's
good and what's naughty? Mamma says it's conscience that tells us when
we're good, and when we're naughty."
"No, dear; Toby has no conscience. If he knows the difference between
right and wrong in some things, it is partly instinct, partly because
he has been taught. Conscience is that which makes us afraid of
displeasing God, and breaking his holy laws, but Toby feels nothing of
this. He is only afraid of displeasing his master; he has neither love
nor fear of One greater than that master, for he does not know there is
such a wise and holy being. If Toby should steal, or do anything wrong,
God would not call him to account for it, because he has given to the
dog no soul, no conscience, no feeling of duty to his Maker."
"Grandpa," said Bessie, "don't you mean that if Toby is naughty, God
will not punish him when he dies, 'cause he didn't know about him?"
"Yes, dear; for Toby there is neither reward nor punishment in another
world. For him, there is no life to come."
"Grandpa," said Maggie, "where will Toby's instinct go when he dies?"
"It will die with the dog. It is mortal; that is, it must die; but
our souls are immortal; they will go on living for ever and ever,
either loving and praising God through all eternity, or sinking down
to endless woe and suffering. Toby is a good, wise, faithful dog,
and knows a great deal, but the weakest, the most ignorant boy or
girl--that poor idiot you saw the other day--is far better, of far more
value in the sight of God, for he has a soul; and to save that precious
soul, our Lord left his heavenly home, and died upon the cross. Think
what a soul is worth when it needed that such a price be paid for its
salvation!"
"I can't help being sorry for Toby, 'cause he has no soul," said
Bessie; "but I'm a great deal sorrier for those people that don't think
about their souls, and go to Jesus to be saved. How can they help
it, when they know he wants them to come? Grandpa, don't they feel
ungrateful all the time?"
"I am afraid not, Bessie. If they do not feel their need of a Saviour,
they do not feel their ingratitude."
Bessie was silent for a minute or two, and sat gazing for a while far
away over the water, with the thoughtful look she so often had in her
eyes, and then she said slowly, as if speaking to herself,--
"I wonder if they think about for ever and ever and ever."
No one answered her. Not a word had the colonel said since Bessie had
said that she thought those who did not care for their souls were no
better than Toby; but he sat with his eyes sometimes on her, sometimes
on the dog, and his face, which was turned from his wife and Mr.
Duncan, had a vexed, troubled look. Mrs. Rush had often seen that look
during the last few days, and now she guessed it was there, even though
she did not see it. But, presently, when the carriage was seen coming
back with Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Duncan, he drove it away, and was soon
laughing and talking as usual.