THE PICNIC.
The feast of the Assumption. What a glorious day! Clear and bright, more
like June than August.
Mrs. Allen and Amy went to early Mass. After breakfast Aunt Lucy
proposed taking Bolax to high Mass, as the music was to be unusually
fine. St. James' choir from the city volunteered their services. Mr. Van
Horn sent out a fine organ to replace the squeaky, little melodeon, for
it was the first anniversary of the dedication of the little country
church, and all wanted to have an especially fine service.
Bo promised to be "better than good" while in Church. There was a very
large congregation, the country people coming for miles around to hear
the music and assist at the grand high Mass.
When Aunt Lucy and her charge entered the Church every seat seemed to be
taken. Mrs. Allen's pew was filled with strangers, so dear old Madame
Harte beckoned her to come into her pew.
From the beginning of the service, Bo was in an ecstasy of delight,
except for an occasional tapping of his feet when the music was very
inspiriting, he sat motionless.
Not to impose on the child's patience too long, Madame Harte offered to
take him out during the sermon. "Oh, dear Hartie, is it all over?" said
Bo. "No pet, but the priest is going to give a sermon, and you would be
so tired." "No, I wouldn't, what is a sermon?" said Bo. "Oh, a very long
talk, dear; come out with me," whispered Madame, "and I will bring you
back when the music begins again."
"Will the priest tell stories?" asked Bo, when he got outside. "I like
long talks when the talk is stories."
"Come dear, let us sit under that tree over there and I will tell you a
true story." "Oh, thank you, Hartie dear."
"Once long ago, our dear Lord died and--" "Rose again and went up into
Heaven," said Bo all in one breath. "Mamma tells me that every day at my
prayers."
"Well," continued Mrs. Harte, "after Jesus went up to Heaven His holy
Mother was very lonely, so she prayed and prayed to Jesus to take her up
to Heaven, that she might be with Him forever. Well, one beautiful day,
just like this, Jesus called a company of angels and sent them down to
the earth to bring His blessed Mother up to Him."
"Did the Angels march out of Heaven like soldiers?" asked Bo.
"Yes, dear; they put on their brightest robes, and beautiful clouds of
crimson and gold surrounded them, and then they carried the holy Mother
up, up, until they came to the golden throne where Jesus sat, ready to
welcome her; He placed her beside Him and there she remains happy
forever."
When the organ began the grand music of the Credo, Bo made a dash for
the door, and could scarcely be persuaded to enter the Church quietly.
After he was seated, he listened intently and was apparently very much
interested in the Altar boys.
At length came the "Agnus Dei," which ends, as all have heard, with
"Dona nobis pacem." The music score called for a repetition of the word
"Pacem," somewhat in this manner, "Dona Pacem, Pacem," the basso calling
out "Pacem! Pacem!"
With startling suddenness, Bo exclaimed: "Why are they singing about a
Possum?"
Aunt Lucy caught him by the hand and hurried him to the side door, which
was fortunately near; those who were within hearing, with difficulty
controlled their laughter. "Are you crying, Aunty?" said the funny
youngster, as he saw the flushed face of his aunt. "No, Bo, dear; I came
out because you spoke so loud." "Oh, I forgot; please forgive me; let me
go in again; I'll be so good, but Aunty dear, I didn't know they ever
let possums into Church." Mass was not over, and as it was a holy day of
obligation, Aunt Lucy felt unwilling to leave until the last Gospel. On
reflection, however, she thought it best not to give further distraction
by returning to her seat.
On her way home, she stopped to see a child, who belonged to the
Catechism class, hoping to find him able to join the rest of the
children, who were going to have their annual picnic. The little fellow
had hurt his foot, but his mother said he was now able to walk nicely.
After Mass, Miss Devine and Madame Harte drove over to Allen's to see
about the proposed outing. There they met the ladies Keating, all
discussed Bo's latest exploit and laughed heartily about the Possum.
"Our class has increased so largely this year, I fear we cannot have
room for all the children on my grounds," observed Mrs. Allen. "Suppose
we make it a straw ride," said Miss Keating. "We can give a substantial
lunch, with ice cream and cake for dessert, and a bag of candy to take
home." "Oh, grand! grand!" said Amy, clapping her hands, "and Ma, dear,
I have two children I want to invite; they don't come to the class
because they live so far away; I mean little Johnny Burke, who is lame,
and Dotty, the blind child. I love them because they are afflicted."
"My darling, you shall invite the poor little ones, and I am glad to see
you have such a compassionate heart." "Suppose we hire Johnson's big hay
wagon," said Miss Keating, "it will hold all the children and two grown
folks to look after them."
"That will be just the thing," said Miss Devine, "my contribution shall
be the ice cream and cake." "and mine," said Madame Harte, "the candy."
"I will help with the substantials and let the little things have more
than enough for once in their lives," this from Miss Keating, whose
whole time seemed to be taken up with helping the poor. "We can drive to
Silver Lake woods," she proposed, "that is just six miles away and will
not be too long a ride." After making all arrangements, the ladies took
leave of Mrs. Allen, promising to be on hand on Thursday, August 20th.
The next day was Sunday. At Catechism class Mrs. Allen told the children
of the proposed ride and picnic, which should take place on the next
Thursday; all expressed their delight and you may be sure, thought of
nothing else during the intervening days.
The next morning Bolax was playing with his dogs on the lawn when Tom
Hoden made his appearance; he stood outside the gate, looking wistfully
at Bo. Mrs. Allen called him in and gave him some breakfast. "Did your
father tell you of my visit?" said the lady. Tom answered in his surly
manner: "Yes, the old man said you was to the house, but I don't want to
go to Sunday School, the fellows would call me 'rags,' and I ain't got
no shoes." "That can be easily remedied," said Mrs. Allen, "come here
tomorrow and see what I will have for you."
The poor boy's face brightened up, and making an awkward attempt to
thank the lady, he ran out of the gate.
When Tom presented himself next day, Pat was called upon to give him a
bath and dress him in a good suit of clothes. "Here he is, ma'am," said
Pat, "and ye'd hardly believe it's the same boy."
Tom held up his head and seemed quite happy; so true it is, that be one
ever so poor, a clean, respectable appearance makes one feel at ease
with himself and on better terms with his fellows. "Now Tom, I expect
you to be here on next Thursday morning at nine o'clock." Tom promised
to come and thanked Mrs. Allen.
The appointed day arrived. Long before the wagon came, the children
flocked into the garden. Pat was on the alert lest his flower beds
should suffer.
Miss Keating and Mrs. Allen made all be seated, and to while away the
time sang:
"Wait for the wagon, wait for the wagon,
Wait for the wagon and we'll all take a ride.
We are all good children; our teachers say with pride.
So now to reward us, they give us all a ride."
The children clapped for this; then Aunt Lucy played on the piano which
could be heard distinctly out on the lawn.
Amy and Aunt Lucy sang:
"Come where flowers are flinging
Beauty o'er the meadows gay,
Where glad birds are singing,
Free from care the live long day.
Come where skies are smiling,
Where the merry fountains play,
Come, all care beguiling,
Keep with Nature Holiday.
Then away to the woods,
Where wild flowers bloom,
Where the breezes are laden
With sweetest perfume.
With our feet light as fairies,
And hearts full of glee,
We will sing with the wild bird
And roam with the bee,
Oh, come away, away!"
Mary Dowry called Amy's attention to a charming little girl about six
years old, who smiled through the railing and looked wistfully at the
children. She was dressed in a pink frock, which set off her soft dark
eyes.
Amy went towards her and she said, "Good morning," so sweetly. "I
believe she wants to come with us," said Amy. "Oh, don't let her," cried
Nellie Day, "she's only a Dago."
"Well, I'll give her some candy," said Bolax, "I like nice Dagos," and
going to his mother, he told about the strange child. Mrs. Allen gave
him a large bag of candy which he handed to the little girl.
On receiving it she said, "gracias, gracias." What is she saying "grassy
ice for?" said Nellie Day, "perhaps she wants ice cream." "No" said Aunt
Lucy "she is saying 'Thank you' in Italian. What pretty manners she has.
I think some of our American children might profit by her sweet ways."
"I'm sure she has a nice mother," said Amy. "Let us take her with us."
"I would, willingly dear," said Aunt Lucy, "but her people would think
her lost, and we do not know where to send them word."
Great was the jubilation of the children, and not a little surprise
among the ladies when the wagon appeared festooned with bunting, the
driver carrying a flag, and the horses' heads decked in like manner. It
was so kind of Mr. Johnson to give the decorations. Miss Keating and
Aunt Lucy seated themselves and the children in the straw; then as the
old song says:
"Snap went the whip, 'round went the wheels,
Were ever folks more glad."
Old and young joined in the fun and made the welkin ring with their
mirth. Hetty and Pat put the lunch baskets and ice cream into the
dayton, and with Miss Devine, Madame Harte and Mrs. Allen in the large
carry-all followed the procession to Silver Lake woods.
The road strolled leisurely out of the village and then, abruptly left
it behind, and curved about a hillside. Silver Lake woods sat on a hill
slope studded with pine trees; at the foot of the hill could be seen a
most beautiful piece of water glistening in the sunshine. This was the
lake. Life of the forest seemed to enter into the veins of the children
and they ran and capered like wild deer. The horses were unharnessed so
that they might rest.
Pat and Mr. Johnson's man put up swings and hammocks. The Misses Keating
and Aunt Lucy set the children to play games; Hare and Hounds suited the
boys and they raced to hearts' content. The Lake was guarded by Miss
Devine's coachman, John, so that no venturesome lad would put himself in
danger. The girls were easily made happy with quiet games, swings and
hammocks.
To the children, of course, the lunch was the principal feature, so the
ladies spread an immense white cloth on the grass, around which all sat,
and were served to as many chicken and ham sandwiches as they could eat.
Tin cups of delicious milk and lots of sweet buns followed. Then came
the ice cream and cake; by the time this was disposed of, it became
evident the children could hold no more, so Madame Harte's candy was
reserved for the homeward trip.
The men were not forgotten, and were well supplied with a substantial
dinner of cold roast beef, pickles, bread and butter, a dozen of lemons
and a pound of sugar to make lemonade. For, as Hetty, said, "dem dere
fellows ain't goin' to care for soft vittles; dey wants sumpin' dat will
keep dem from gettin' hollow inside." After the feast Pat and the other
men gathered everything up, and packed all into the dayton, then Pat
started for home.
The ladies were rather fatigued after their exertions in amusing and
waiting on the children, so they rested in the hammocks awhile. As for
the little ones, nothing seemed to tire them, they tore around as fresh
and lively as if the day were just beginning. At four o'clock Mrs. Allen
rang a bell to summon all to prepare for home. When the wagon came all
piled in, laughing and shouting in their glee. Amy was most attentive to
her little proteges, waiting on them and attending to all their wants.
Little Dotty kept saying: "Dear Miss Amy, I love you; I thank you, and
I'll always pray for you for giving me such a happy, happy day."
Bolax took little lame Johnny under his care, when the children were
being placed in the wagon, he called out to the driver, "be sure to seat
Johnny on a soft bunch of hay, because his leg is not strong." "Why did
you say that?" said Nellie Day. "You ought to have said, because his is
lame." "No, I just wouldn't say that," said Bo, "it might hurt Johnny's
heart; my Mamma says we must never let lame people know we see their
lameness, and never look at crooked-backed children, because it makes
then feel worse."
When the wagon was ready to start, the driver offered to see all the
children safely to their homes; he said most of them lived near the
quarry, and he would take the pike road, which passed within a few
minutes' walk of it. Johnny and little Dotty he promised to deliver into
the hands of their mothers.
The ladies Keating had ordered their carriage to call for them, and Miss
Devine's "carry-all" held the rest of the party, including Bo and Amy.
This ended one happy day filled with love and kindness, and sweet
charity towards God's poor little ones.
CATECHISM CLASS.
On the Sunday after the picnic, the Catechism class met. All the pupils
were eager to show their appreciation of the happy day their kind
teachers had given them.
The subject of instruction was the Ten Commandments. Mrs. Allen made a
few remarks in simple, plain words, showing the advantages of truth over
falsehood; dwelling particularly on the Seventh and Eighth Commandments,
saying how happy one felt when his conscience told him, he was entirely
free from the mean habit of lying and taking little things which were
the property of others.
After class was dismissed, Tom lingered on the piazza. Mrs. Allen went
to him, and asked him if he wanted to speak to her. "Yes, ma'am;" said
the boy, "I once took a wheelbarrow out of your yard; I am very sorry;
if you will trust me, I'll work out the price of it on your place. I
could help Pat if he'd let me. I'm strong; I'm twelve now." Mrs. Allen
was touched with the evident sincerity of the boy, and thanked God that
the good seed was already bearing fruit. Taking the boy's hand, she told
him our Lord would certainly forgive and bless him since he bravely
acknowledged his fault. "You may come tomorrow and I will give you work
and keep you here until I can get you a permanent situation." Tom
thanked his kind benefactress, promising to return the next day.
As he was passing out the gate Bo hailed him. "You're a good boy now
Tom, so I can walk with you a little way; I am going to give you a pair
of my darling white rats. They're such cute little things; they eat corn
out of my mouth and run all over me." "Thank you, Bo, but I'd better
don't take 'em, our place is full of black rats and they'd be sure to
eat up the white ones." As Tom was speaking, he threw a stone at a bird
that was hopping along the path. "Stop that!" said Bo, "you're getting
bad again; that's a robin. Robins are blessed birds, because when our
Lord was nailed on the Cross, a robin flew near and tried to pull the
thorns out of His dear head, but robin was not strong, so he only could
pull one thorn out, and the blood of poor Jesus got on the bird's
feathers so that is why robin's breast is red." "Is that really so, who
told you?" "My dear Mamma told me, and she knows everything in the
world, so it is true Tom, and if you want my Mamma to love you, you must
be kind to animals and kind to birds especially to robins."
"Well, little fellow, I will try for your sake. You see I never knowed
about nothing, so I done bad acts. Now since I go to Catechism class
I'll try to do good acts."
After leaving Tom, Bolax loitered on the way home, amusing himself with
his dogs; when he went into the house, Hetty called him. "Where you done
been such a long time, boy?" "Oh, I was only down the hill," replied Bo.
"Well, here's me and sister a working while you'se playin'; just you
come, let me wash you' hands and den you kin help us make dese here
cookies." Amy was already busy rolling out dough and cutting cakes, so
Bo was delighted to help. "Hetty, dear," said he, "if I roll this dough
into cannon balls will they bake nice?" "Cannon balls in my oven," said
Hetty, "suppose they go on to bust, what den?" "Oh, they won't bust,
Hetty dear." So Hetty put the cannon balls to bake with the pan full of
cookies and when they were done, she spread a nice white cloth on a
little table near the window in the kitchen, bringing out the crabapple
jelly, which the children always considered a treat. Then she put a
bouquet in the center of the table and a pitcher of creamy milk. This
with the cookies and some peaches made a delightful lunch. Amy
understood why Hetty was particular to set the table so nicely and kept
dancing 'round and talking nonsense.
Mamma and Aunt Lucy had gone out for the day and she wanted to keep Bo
from noticing their absence. After enjoying the feast and feeding their
pets, their friend, Adele, came and took them out in her pretty pony
cart. It was five in the afternoon when the children returned. As soon
as Bolax entered the house, he began his usual refrain: "Ma, dear." As
he received no answer, he suddenly remembered he had not seen his mother
all day. "Why Hetty," said he, "is Mamma not at home?" "No, honey,"
said Hetty, "she's been in town; she'll be home soon now, and she g'wan
to give you a nice present when I tell her what a good boy you done
been. Come now eat yon' supper, so you' Ma will find you in bed when she
comes home."
Bo and Amy sat at the little table where they had had lunch. Hetty gave
them a nice supper and allowed them each to have a doggie beside them,
with a plate to eat from.
After supper they went upstairs to prepare for bed. Buz and Roy
followed. Amy took Bo into the Oratory to say night prayer. Bo began
very piously "Our Father," but just here Buz bit his foot. "Stop that,
Buz, don't you see I'm saying my prayers. Our Father, who art in Heaven.
Buz won't behave." Bo called out laughing, at the same time. "Hetty,"
said Amy, "you had better come up here, Bo's just giggling instead of
saying his prayers." "I comin' up; you dogs git out of dis here Oritey;
it ain't no place for laughin'. Now you better don't be a mockin' of de
Lord, Bo. I tell you somethin' might come arter you some night." But Bo
couldn't stop, he was so full of merriment. "Well, I was saying my
prayers with a humble and contrite heart when Roy came and thumped me in
the back." "Yes," replied Amy, "and you just let him; you had better
stop your nonsense." Hetty tried all her arts to get Bo to bed, at last
she said: "Well, you always wasn't a religion child, anyway. I remember
one time when you was three years old, you' mother was a dressin' you up
in a lovely coat and hat with white plume, she was buttoning of the coat
and you kept wigglin', then she told you to try to be a good boy, else
you' angel wouldn't love you. You said: 'Where is my angel.' 'Right
behind you,' says you' Ma; then you pushed up against the wall and
rubbed you back so hard. I was settin' dere and tried to make you stop.
Your Ma, she say: 'What you doin' you bad boy,' and you answer
'Squashing the angel!' You' Ma couldn't help smilin' and I jest fall
down on de floor with laughin,' We was so taken by surprise."
"Well, Hetty," said Amy, "that's the reason Bolax is bad, because people
laugh at him." "Oh, I wouldn't say that now," said Bo, "I'm near six,
and I do love my angel; the laughing is all gone now; I can say my
prayers." So Bo said his prayers respectfully and went to bed.
A little after midnight, he ran into his mother's room. "Oh, Mamma,
dear, did you hear it? Oh, it is awful, and I did say my prayers."
Out in the entry Hetty was heard saying: "For de Lord sake! Oh, Miss
Allen, dere it is again."
Mrs. Allen and the whole household heard a most unearthly shriek, but
immediately remembered it was the new fire alarm. After quieting the
little boy and making Hetty understand what it was, Mrs. Allen looked
out of the window, and saw that a large house on the top of a high hill
was ablaze; as it was only a frame building it was soon destroyed, for
the firemen could not reach it.
After the disturbance was over and all were going back to bed, Bo put
his arm around his mother's neck, and said: "I guess I had better stay
with you Mamma, dear; you might get afraid again."