A BAND OF MERCY
A few evenings after we came to Dingley Farm, Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura
were sitting out on the veranda, and I was lying at their feet.
"Auntie," said Miss Laura, "What do those letters mean on that silver
pin that you wear with that piece of ribbon?"
"You know what the white ribbon means, don't you?" asked Mrs. Wood.
"Yes; that you are a temperance woman, doesn't it?"
"It does; and the star pin means that I am a member of a Band of Mercy.
Do you know what a Band of Mercy is?"
"No," said Miss Laura.
"How strange! I should think that you would have several in Fairport. A
cripple boy, the son of a Boston artist, started this one here. It has
done a great deal of good. There is a meeting to-morrow, and I will take
you to it if you like."
It was on Monday that Mrs. Wood had this talk with Miss Laura, and the
next afternoon, after all the work was done, they got ready to go to the
village.
"May Joe go?" asked Miss Laura.
"Certainly," said Mrs. Wood; "he is such a good dog that he won't be any
trouble."
I was very glad to hear this, and trotted along by them down the lane to
the road. The lane was a very cool and pleasant place. There were tall
trees growing on each side, and under them, among the grass, pretty wild
flowers were peeping out to look at us as we went by.
Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura talked all the way about the Band of Mercy.
Miss Laura was much interested, and said that she would like to start
one in Fairport.
"It is a very simple thing," said Mrs. Wood. "All you have to do is to
write the pledge at the top of a piece of paper: 'I will try to be kind
to all harmless living creatures, and try to protect them from cruel
usage,' and get thirty people to sign it. That makes a band.
"I have formed two or three bands by keeping slips of paper ready, and
getting people that come to visit me to sign them. I call them
'Corresponding Bands,' for they are too far apart to meet. I send the
members 'Band of Mercy' papers, and I get such nice letters from them,
telling me of kind things they do for animals.
"A Band of Mercy in a place is a splendid thing. There's the greatest
difference in Riverdale since this one was started. A few years ago,
when a man beat or raced his horse, and any one interfered, he said:
'This horse is mine; I'll do what I like with him.' Most people thought
he was right, but now they're all for the poor horse and there isn't a
man anywhere around who would dare to abuse any animal.
"It's all the children. They're doing a grand work, and I say it's a
good thing for them. Since we've studied this subject, it's enough to
frighten one to read what is sent us about our American boys and girls.
Do you know, Laura, that with all our brag about our schools and
colleges, that really are wonderful, we're turning out more criminals
than any other civilized country in the world, except Spain and Italy?
The cause of it is said to be lack of proper training for the youth of
our land. Immigration has something to do with it, too. We're thinking
too much about educating the mind, and forgetting about the heart and
soul. So I say now, while we've got all our future population in our
schools, saints and sinners, good people and bad people, let us try to
slip in something between the geography, and history, and grammar that
will go a little deeper, and touch them so much, that when they are
grown up and go out in the world, they will carry with them lessons of
love and good-will to men.
"A little child is such a tender thing. You can bend it anyway you like.
Speaking of this heart education of children, as set over against mind
education, I see that many school-teachers say that there is nothing
better than to give them lessons on kindness to animals. Children who
are taught to love and protect dumb creatures will be kind to their
fellow-men when they grow up."
I was very much pleased with this talk between Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura,
and kept close to them so that I would not miss a word.
As we went along, houses began to appear here and there, set back from
the road among the trees. Soon they got quite close together, and I saw
some shops.
This was the village of Riverdale, and nearly all the buildings were
along this winding street. The river was away back of the village. We
had already driven there several times.
We passed the school on our way. It was a square, white building,
standing in the middle of a large yard. Boys and girls, with their arms
full of books, were hurrying down the steps and coming into the street.
Two quite big boys came behind us, and Mrs. Wood turned around and spoke
to them, and asked if they were going to the Band of Mercy.
"Oh, yes; ma'am," said the younger one "I've got a recitation, don't you
remember?"
"Yes, yes; excuse me for forgetting," said Mrs. Wood, with her jolly
laugh. "And here are Dolly, and Jennie, and Martha," she went on, as
some little girls came running out of a house that we were passing.
The little girls joined us and looked so hard at my head and stump of a
tail, and my fine collar, that I felt quite shy, and walked with my head
against Miss Laura's dress.
She stooped down and patted me, and then I felt as if I didn't care how
much they stared. Miss Laura never forgot me. No matter how earnestly
she was talking, or playing a game, or doing anything, she always
stopped occasionally to give me a word or look, to show that she knew I
was near.
Mrs. Wood paused in front of a building on the main street. A great many
boys and girls were going in, and we went with them. We found ourselves
in a large room, with a platform at one end of it. There were some
chairs on this platform and a small table.
A boy stood by this table with his hand on a bell. Presently he rang it,
and then every one kept still. Mrs. Wood whispered to Miss Laura that
this boy was the president of the band, and the young man with the pale
face and curly hair who sat in front of him was Mr. Maxwell, the
artist's son, who had formed this Band of Mercy.
The lad who presided had a ringing, pleasant voice. He said they would
begin their meeting by singing a hymn. There was an organ near the
platform, and a young girl played on it, while all the other boys and
girls stood up, and sang very sweetly and clearly.
After they had sung the hymn, the president asked for the report of
their last meeting.
A little girl, blushing and hanging her head, came forward, and read
what was written on a paper that she held in her hand.
The president made some remarks after she had finished, and then every
one had to vote. It was just like a meeting of grown people, and I was
surprised to see how good those children were. They did not frolic nor
laugh, but all seemed sober and listened attentively.
After the voting was over, the president called upon John Turner to give
a recitation. This was the boy whom we saw on the way there. He walked
up to the platform, made a bow, and said that he had learned two stories
for his recitation, out of the paper, "Dumb Animals." One story was
about a horse, and the other was about a dog, and he thought that they
were two of the best animal stories on record. He would tell the horse
story first.
"A man in Missouri had to go to Nebraska to see about some land. He went
on horseback, on a horse that he had trained himself, and that came at
his whistle like a dog. On getting into Nebraska, he came to a place
where there were two roads. One went by a river, and the other went over
the hill. The man saw that the travel went over the hill, but thought
he'd take the river road. He didn't know that there was a quicksand
across it, and that people couldn't use it in spring and summer. There
used to be a sign board to tell strangers about it, but it had been
taken away. The man got off his horse to let him graze, and walked along
till he got so far ahead of the horse that he had to sit down and wait
for him. Suddenly he found that he was on a quicksand. His feet had sunk
in the sand, and he could not get them out. He threw himself down, and
whistled for his horse, and shouted for help, but no one came. He could
hear some young people singing out on the river, but they could not hear
him. The terrible sand drew him in almost to his shoulders, and he
thought he was lost. At that moment the horse came running up, and stood
by his master. The man was too low down to get hold of the saddle or
bridle, so he took hold of the horse's tail, and told him to go. The
horse gave an awful pull, and landed his master on safe ground."
Everybody clapped his hands, and stamped when this story was finished,
and called out: "The dog story--the dog story!"
The boy bowed and smiled, and began again. "You all know what a
'round-up' of cattle is, so I need not explain. Once a man down south
was going to have one, and he and his boys and friends were talking it
over. There was an ugly, black steer in the herd, and they were
wondering whether their old yellow dog would be able to manage him. The
dog's name was Tige, and he lay and listened wisely to their talk. The
next day there was a scene of great confusion. The steer raged and tore
about, and would allow no one to come within whip touch of him. Tige,
who had always been brave, skulked about for a while, and then, as if he
had got up a little spirit, he made a run at the steer. The steer
sighted him, gave a bellow, and, lowering his horns, ran at him. Tige
turned tail, and the young men that owned him were frantic. They'd been
praising him, and thought they were going to have it proven false. Their
father called out: 'Don't shoot Tige, till you see where he's running
to.' The dog ran right to the cattle pen. The steer was so enraged that
he never noticed where he was going, and dashed in after him. Tige
leaped the wall, and came back to the gate, barking and yelping for the
men to come and shut the steer in. They shut the gate and petted Tige,
and bought him a collar with a silver plate."
The boy was loudly cheered, and went to his seat. The president said he
would like to have remarks made about these two stories.
Several children put up their hands, and he asked each one to speak in
turn. One said that if that man's horse had had a docked tail, his
master wouldn't have been able to reach it, and would have perished.
Another said that if the man hadn't treated his horse kindly, he never
would have come at his whistle, and stood over him to see what he could
do to help him. A third child said that the people on the river weren't
as quick at hearing the voice of the man in trouble as the horse was.
When this talk was over, the president called for some stories of
foreign animals.
Another boy came forward, made his bow, and said, in a short, abrupt
voice, "My uncle's name is Henry Worthington. He is an Englishman, and
once he was a soldier in India. One day when he was hunting in the
Punjab, he saw a mother monkey carrying a little dead baby monkey. Six
months after, he was in the same jungle. Saw same monkey still carrying
dead baby monkey, all shriveled up. Mother monkey loved her baby monkey,
and wouldn't give it up."
The boy went to his seat, and the president, with a queer look in his
face, said, "That's a very good story, Ronald--if it is true."
None of the children laughed, but Mrs. Wood's face got like a red poppy,
and Miss Laura bit her lip, and Mr. Maxwell buried his head in his arms,
his whole frame shaking.
The boy who told the story looked very angry He jumped up again. "My
uncle's a true man, Phil. Dodge, and never told a lie in his life."
The president remained standing, his face a deep scarlet, and a tall boy
at the back of the room got up and said, "Mr. President, what would be
impossible in this climate, might be possible in a hot country like
India. Doesn't heat sometimes draw up and preserve things?"
The president's face cleared. "Thank you for the suggestion," he said.
"I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings; but you know there is a rule
in the band that only true stories are to be told here. We have five
more minutes for foreign stories. Has any one else one?"
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