STORM AND CALM.
Minnie was very happy at the shore. A stranger stork did come one day,
and, mistaking her for a fish, suddenly snatch her from her boat; but
she held his bill so fast that he was glad to drop her on the beach. And
at dark she was sorely afraid of the lobsters that crawled about the
rocks, blindly stretching their black claws for food; but they had never
harmed her yet, and, on the whole, the tiny woman thought she was having
a beautiful time.
She loved to chase the little dimpling waves; she was never tired of
watching the flash of sunlight on the water by day, and at evening the
sweet path of moonlight, that stretched so far, seemed like a path to
her home,--if only she dared to trust herself on the waves!
Then all the changing colors of the water, and the pretty wreaths of
foam, delighted her. She built a house, for herself, of such white
pebbles and shells that it looked like a little marble palace. And the
tables and seats inside, and the bed, were all beautiful
mother-of-pearl.
But a storm came one day, and washed away her house, and dashed the
waves so high upon the beach, that Minnie fled for her life.
It happened a spruce-tree stood not far from the shore; so she scrambled
up into its branches, both to be sheltered from, and to watch, the
storm.
It was awful to see the great waves rise and beat against the beach, as
if they meant to wash the whole world away, and to hear the grating of
the stones they clashed together, and see the great mats of seaweed they
tore from the rocks, and the shells they swept out of their crevices,
and tossed on the shore in heaps.
And the water kept rising, and rising, till it covered the beach, and
came nearer and nearer, until it reached the roots of the very tree into
which Minnie had climbed. It had been hard enough to bear the beating
of the branches in the wind, but now must she be drowned, so far from
her home, and no one ever dream what had become of her?
[Illustration: MINNIE AT HOME.]
Minnie screamed with fright, and then, through the storm, she seemed to
hear a low song, such as her mother used to sing, and, instead of the
rough spruce branches, it seemed as if her mother's arms were about her
now.
She opened her eyes in wonder. Could it be that the soft hand she had
missed so long was stroking her curls once more? that the dear voice she
had never thought to hear again was singing soft lullabies over her?
that Allie was looking in her face, and Frank was holding her pale hand
in his?
Yes, and, stranger still, her mother and Franky declared that they had
been with her all the while. On that first day of my story, when the
squirrel came,--it seemed years ago to Minnie, now,--she had fallen from
the fence, and bruised her head, and had been sick with a fever ever
since, and they thought she must have dreamed these marvellous things.
Certain it was that, when the little girl looked in the glass, she found
herself large as ever, though pale and very thin. Her gown, too, was
made of muslin, instead of forest leaves; and, instead of being perched
on a pine-bough, here she stood in her own father's home!
And here she resolved to stay and be content. For, whether awake or in a
fever-dream, Minnie had learned this, that, let it be large or small,
there is, in all this great wide world, no place so safe and pleasant as
our home. And this, besides, that the handsomest, kindest, gayest among
strangers, will never make up for the loss of our own friends, the
parents that have watched over us ever since we were born, the brothers
and sisters that have played by the same fireside, and under the same
green trees.
Dear children, when you are older, you will find that all the people in
this world have strayed, like Minnie; that they wander about, making
acquaintance with many creatures, but still unsatisfied; that they
encounter storms, and suffer weariness and loneliness, and long for
those who dwell in the far-off home.
Yes, and some morning we all shall wake in our Father's house, and find
about us the blessed voices and dear forms of those we have loved; and
then it will be like a dream that we seemed to lose them once.
That home is on the other side of the stars. But Frank and Minnie are
young yet, and expect to find it here. They are young, and cannot
believe that their senses may be mistaken, and that all Minnie's curious
changes happened in a dream. Many an afternoon they still spend in
looking for the wondrous weed that will make them understand the
language of birds, and squirrels, and butterflies.
And, to tell you the truth, I more than half believe they will find it
yet.