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PINE NEEDLES.
Warne's Star Series.
PINE NEEDLES.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
"_THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD_."
"They that say such things declare plainly that they seek a
country."--_Heb._ xi. 14.
[Illustration: Publisher's Mark]
New Edition.
LONDON:
FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.
BEDFORD STREET, STRAND.
_NOTICE TO THE READER OF "PINE NEEDLES."_
This little book might have been entitled "Christian Heroes," for its
contents would have justified the name. The stories reported in the
"Missionsblatt" of the late Pastor Louis Harms of Hermannsburg, of
lovely memory, will surely delight all who love either heroism or
Christianity, and are not able to enjoy the narrations in their original
German dress. The author has framed them in a light frame of her own,
but the stories are left in their integrity and simplicity, with
omission of scarcely a dozen words.
_February 1, 1877._
PINE NEEDLES AND OLD YARNS.
CHAPTER I.
The Franklins were coming to Mosswood.
This might have happened, Maggie thought, a good while ago; but,
however, the view had not been shared by Mrs. Candlish; and a whole year
had passed away since the joyful coming home of the family to their old
possessions. The winter was spent at Mosswood in quiet gladness and
gradual strength-gaining; the spring brought a return to all the
favourite out-door amusements and occupations of the family. Summer was
the proper time for company, and the house had been filled till the end
of September. Then Mrs. Candlish declared she was tired and must run
away, or she would be obliged to entertain people till November; and she
joined her husband in a trip to California, which, half for business and
half for pleasure, Mr. Candlish had resolved upon taking. At that
juncture the children begged for the Franklins; and their mother was
willing. "As I cannot be here," she said, "it will not be necessary to
extend the invitation to Mrs. Franklin. You may have the others, and do
what you will with them."
"I should think," remarked Maggie, "if Meredith and Flora heard what
mamma said, they wouldn't like it much."
However, they did not hear it, and if they guessed at the substance of
it I don't know; but Flora had too much curiosity, and Meredith too much
affection engaged, to be over scrupulous. So they came, and were
welcomed, I was going to say, uproariously. It just fell short of that.
For even Esther privately declared to her sister that "nobody was so
nice as Meredith Franklin."
Now, after seeing them, the next thing was to make them see Mosswood;
and many were the consultations Maggie and Esther had already held over
plans and means. Nothing could be settled after all till the guests
came. And when they came, the whole first evening was spent in joyous
talk and recollections. But the next morning before breakfast Maggie and
Meredith met at the house door. Meredith had been out walking.
"How do you like it?" she asked daringly, clasping his hand, while her
eyes looked love and pleasure hard into his face.
"It is the most beautiful place I ever saw in my life!"
"And it is such a nice day," said Maggie gleefully. "What shall we do
to-day?"
"Let us be out of doors!"
"Oh yes, we'll be out of doors," said Maggie; "but where shall we go?"
"Nowhere out of Mosswood--if you ask me. I don't want anything else."
"Well, Mosswood is pretty good," said Maggie, "because, when you are at
Mosswood you have the hills and the river and all, _besides_ Mosswood,
you know--O Meredith! I have thought of something!"
"I dare say," Meredith answered smiling. "That is quite in your way."
"This is something nice. Suppose we go out and have dinner in the
woods?"
"I should say it was a capital plan."
"We used to do that in old times, before ever we went away. And we have
got a nice little cart, Meredith, to carry our dinner, and whatever we
want; and--Oh, it's nice! it's nice!" exclaimed Maggie, jumping on her
toes for delight. "I'm _so_ glad you're here! and I'm _so_ glad to go
into the woods again to dinner."
"We want only one thing," said Meredith.
"What's that?"
"Mr. Murray."
"Uncle Eden! I'll write to him."
"Let us all write to him. Every one put in something. That will bring
him, maybe."
"Yes, that will bring him!" Maggie echoed; and I do not believe that for
the rest of the morning she took another flat step. On her toes, was the
only way that her spirits could go. The first thing after breakfast was
the Round Robin to Uncle Eden. Maggie began it, as the youngest.
"DEAR UNCLE EDEN,--Flora and Meredith are here while mamma and papa
are gone to California. We are going out in the woods to dinner;
and we all want you. Do please come, if you can get away from Bay
House. We want you as much as anybody can be wanted.
"MAGGIE."
Then Esther wrote--
"DEAR UNCLE EDEN,--It is quite true. We do all want you very much.
Fenton is coming, and I am afraid nobody will keep him in order, if
you are not here.
"ESTHER."
Then Flora--
"I think we would all be very glad to see Mr. Murray. I am sure one
sincerely glad would be
"FLORA FRANKLIN."
Last, Meredith--
"DEAR MR. MURRAY,--You know how true is all the foregoing. And yet,
though I cannot suppose I should be gladder to see you than
everybody else, it does seem to me that I _want_ to see you more
than any of the rest can--because I have so many questions to ask,
and feel that I need so much advice. I hope you may find that you
can comply with our joint earnest desire.
"MEREDITH FRANKLIN."
After all were done, Maggie begged for the paper, to add a word that
nobody else must see. This was what she said--
"DEAR UNCLE EDEN,--I want to say a _private_ word to you. I feel
somehow as if it was not just exactly respectful to Meredith and
Flora that they should be here with nobody but just us. Don't you
think so? But if you could come, it would be all right. We are
going in the woods to dinner to-day--Oh, I wish you were here!
"MAGGIE."
This joint epistle finished and sealed, and some other despatches for
Leeds got ready, it was time to see about making preparations for the
woods. Where should they go? Question the first.
"To the old Fort."
"To the Happy Valley."
"No, to the Lookout rock."
"Not to-day, Esther. Let's keep that for Uncle Eden.
Suppose--suppose"----
"The Plateau."
"It seems to be an _embarras de richesses_," said Meredith laughing,
"and I do not wonder. Let me help you. Suppose we go up on this height
just east of us; isn't the view pretty from there?"
"The South Pitch! Oh, it's _lovely_ up there!" cried Maggie. "You look
down on the house, and you look down the river, and it's shady and nice.
It's just lovely! That is best for to-day. Then, other days, we'll take
the other places. Now, we must get ready."
"What?" said Flora.
"Oh, you must get your work, or books if you like; whatever you like;
and Meredith must find a book, too, I suppose; we always take books and
work, and then we talk; but once when we took nothing, then we didn't do
anything. Esther and I must prepare the waggon; cart, I mean."
"What is to go in the cart? Cannot we help you?" said Meredith. "And,
where is the cart, in the first place?"
"Oh, it's up in the wood-house loft; we haven't had it out this year
yet, you know. Ditto, maybe you'll tell Fairbairn to get it down, will
you?"
"Who is Mr. Fairbairn?"
"Oh, the gardener. He's out there somewhere. Esther and I must go to
Betsey for things."
"I suppose I shall know Fairbairn when I see him," said Meredith
smiling, as he put on his hat.
In a quarter of an hour the cart stood at the door, and Esther and
Maggie and Flora were busily packing "things" in baskets. Meredith came
to put his hand to the work.
"It is so hard to remember everything," said Esther. "We always forget
something or other, and then somebody has to go back for it. Now, here
is all the china, I think. Oh, stop! have we put the teapot in?"
"Who wants tea?" said Meredith.
"In the woods? Oh, we always have tea in the woods, and sometimes
coffee."
"Make a fire to boil the kettle?"
"Why, _of course_!"
"How should I know it was of course? Well, tea is very good in the
woods, I have no doubt. Don't forget the tea."
"But I should have forgotten the sugar, if you hadn't spoken."
"And the salt! don't forget the salt; we always do."
"We don't want salt to-day; we have nothing to eat it with."
"Yes, we have."
"No, we haven't; there is cold ham, and bread, and butter, and
apple-sauce."
"Take the salt," said Meredith, "and give me a few eggs, and I'll make
you a friar's omelet."
"A friar's omelet! What is that?"
"You'll see. Only I shall want a dish to mix it in, you know."
Delightful! The dish was fetched from the kitchen, and the omelet pan.
Ham and apple-sauce Betty had packed for the party already; rolls and
butter, spoons and knives and forks, a pitcher of cream, napkins--I do
not know what all--went into the other baskets, and were finally stowed
in the cart. A light porter's cart, it was; roomy enough; and yet it
grew pretty full. The tea-kettle must find a place; then books and
knitting and paper. Then thick shawls to spread upon the rocks, to make
softer seats for the more ease-loving. Fairbairn carried a tin pail with
water. All these arrangements took up time; so the morning was well on
its way and the dew long off the grass, when at last the procession set
forth. Meredith drew the cart, which he was informed he must do
carefully, or the cream would slop over, and, possibly, other damage be
done.
It was not a long way they had to go this morning. Bordering upon the
lawn and shrubbery, to the east, rose a little rocky height, which, in
fact, prevented the dwellers at Mosswood from ever seeing the sun rise.
But the hill was so pretty, they forgave it. Towards the house it
presented a smooth wall of grey granite; on the top it also showed
granite in quantity, there, however, alternating with moss and thin
grass, and overshadowed by cedars, oaks, and pines, with now and then a
young hemlock. The soil was thin; the growth of trees in consequence not
lofty; nevertheless, very graceful. No cultivation, hardly any dressing,
had been attempted; the purple asters sprung up at the edge of the
rocks, and huckleberry bushes stood where they found footing; here and
there a bramble, here and there a bunch of ferns. Now the oak leaves
were turned yellow and brown; the huckleberry bushes in duller hues of
the same; moss was dry and crisp, and ferns odorous in the warm air.
To reach the top of the height a circuit must be made. There was no path
leading straight from the house. Through the grounds at the back of the
house the way wound along between beds of acheranthus and cineraria
which made warm strips of bordering, with scarlet pelargoniums lighting
up the beds beyond in a blaze of brilliance. Turning then into a
carriage road, the party followed it to the north of the height which
Maggie had called the South Pitch, and struck off then southwards into
a little, mossy, rocky, hardly-traced path under the trees.
"This is easy enough," said Meredith, guiding his cart somewhat
carefully, however, to avoid severe jolts which would have endangered
the cream. "I do not see where the pitch is yet."
"Ah, but you will when you get to the south end," said Maggie. "Look
out, Ditto, here's a rock in your way. And these huckleberry bushes are
very thick."
Following on over rocks and bushes, they soon came to the place Maggie
meant, and Meredith rested his cart and stood still to look. From the
southern brow of the little hill, the ground fell steeply away; so
steeply that the eye had unhindered range over the river which lay
below, and the hills bordering it, and the point of Gee's Point which
there pushes the river to the eastward. Not a tree-branch even was in
the way; river and hills lay in the October light, still, glowing, fair,
as only October can be.
"Do you like it, Meredith?" asked Maggie wistfully. _Her_ opinion of
Mosswood had been long a fixed one.
"I have never seen such a place!"
"Uncle Eden had his tent up here one summer, and he cut away all the
branches and trees that were in the way of the view; for he wanted to
lie in his tent at night and be able to look out and see the river and
the hills in the moonlight."
"And did he have this wall built too?" asked Meredith, seeing that the
platform where he stood was held up on the side towards the river by a
regularly laid, though unmortared, wall.
"Oh," said Esther laughing, "that wall was laid a hundred years ago,
Meredith. Soldiers laid it; our soldiers; all Mosswood was fortified;
this is a breastwork."
"Whom do you mean by 'our soldiers'?"
"Why, the Americans," said Esther. "When they were fighting that war, a
hundred years ago. You'll find bits of breastwork all over Mosswood."
"Well, that is delightful," said Meredith. "We are historical. Now,
what are we to do first? I move, we make our camp just here. We cannot
have a better place."
So there a rock under a tree, here a bit of mossy bank, was taken
possession of; places were carpeted with shawls, and luxurious loungers
were at rest upon them. Fairbairn set down the pail of water and
departed; Flora got her worsted embroidery out of the cart, and Esther a
strip of afghan which she was ambitiously making. Maggie nestled up to
Meredith's side on the moss and laid her little hand in his, and for a
little while they were all quiet; these last two enjoying October. But
Meredith did not long sit still; he must go exploring, up and down and
all round the South Pitch. Maggie followed him, as ready to go as he,
and talking all the while. It was nothing but rocks and moss and trees
and brambles and ferns; with the delicious river glittering below the
rocks, and the glow of the hills coming to them through the trees, and
golden hickory leaves falling at their feet, and now and then a chestnut
burr or a hickory schale to be hammered open. Warm and tired at last
they came back to their place. And then the girls declared it was time
for dinner.