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THE 
 
 LITTLE MESSENGER BIRDS, 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CHIMES OF THE SILVER BELLS, 
 
 BY MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER. 
 
 Then Santa Claus stepped briskly towards the Library : 
 
 " One hundred more of the choicest and best little volumes must be ready by Christmas 
 eve ! " he said. 
 
 And the grave little writers stroked their beards, and smoothed down their parchment 
 robes, and dipping their pens into the little inkstands, cast up their eyes in thought, and 
 then taster than little humming birds among the flowers, did their pens fly over the paper. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY, 
 
 110 Washington Street. 
 1850. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in trie year 1850, 
 
 By Phillips, Sampson, and Company, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
TO 
 
 Cjjfe f nlitme m afftrtinnatelij 
 
 DEDICATED BY 
 
 THEIR MOTHER. 
 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A Visit to the Dominions op Santa Claus, 11 
 
 The Broken Silver Spoon, 47 
 
 Fanny's Visit to the Country, 69 
 
 The Little Birdsnest 93 
 
 The Shell Baskets, 96 
 
 The Little Chinese Boy, 117 
 
 Pretty Mary Fairlie 124 
 
 Bertram and Theodore, 129 
 
 The Locket, 147 
 
 Little Belinda, 163 
 
 Conclusion, 167 
 
THE 
 
 LITTLE MESSENGER BIRDS ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CHIMES OF THE SILVER BELLS. 
 
A VISIT 
 
 TO THE 
 
 DOMINIONS OF SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 Only six more days, and the merry Christ- 
 mas Bells would sound over the broad earth ! 
 Only six more days, and their cheerful peal 
 would send happiness to many hearts 1 
 Charity, with glad footsteps, w r ould follow 
 their merry chime to the poor man's cottage, 
 and their cheerful echo call together dear 
 parents, happy children, and kind friends, 
 to celebrate with thankful hearts that blest 
 hour, when the bright little Star in the East 
 told the good shepherds, who sat watching 
 
12 THE LITTLE 
 
 their flocks on the green fields of Bethlehem, 
 that the Holy Child Jesus was born ! 
 
 Oh, the merry Christmas bells ! 
 
 Only six more days to merry Christmas, 
 and yet Santa Claus had a great deal to do 
 before he would be prepared to make his 
 annual visits to all the good children. No, 
 not for two or three hundred years, had the 
 kind-hearted old gentleman been so hurried 
 or so happy either, as under this unusual 
 press of business. It always made him 
 happy, when iie knew that children were 
 deserving of all the pains he took to please 
 them, and he knew his little friends must 
 have been very, very good since the last 
 Christmas, or he should not now have so much 
 to do ; because, although he never failed to 
 visit bad children also, he never troubled his 
 head much about giving them anything, or 
 if he did, it was only something which would 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 13 
 
 make them ashamed of their naughtiness. 
 But, for good children, — oh, what beautiful, 
 beautiful things he had for them ! — and day 
 and night he kept his little work-people busy 
 getting them ready. 
 
 So Santa Claus was very much hurried, 
 you may be sure, when Christmas was so 
 near, giving orders about the work, and ex- 
 amining all the pretty things, as they w T ere 
 finished, to see that they were strong and 
 good. 
 
 He had a little pipe in his mouth, and a 
 pair of spectacles on his funny little nose, 
 although he did not make a practice of 
 wearing them, for he declared he could see 
 just as well as ever he did ; but these spec- 
 tacles were so very fine, and so very clear, 
 that he could detect the tiniest flaw in the 
 work : so that when Santa Claus put them 
 on, then all the little work-people looked at 
 2 
 
14 THE LITTLE 
 
 each other timidly, and some trembled and 
 turned pale, because they knew if their work 
 was not done well, they should be banished 
 to the Dark Room, where they made such 
 ugly things for bad children, as bags of soot 
 and ashes, pots of elbow-grease, sharpened 
 birch-twigs, and put in order cats-o'-nine- 
 tails, which, when properly used, make the 
 most dreadful screaming of any cats in the 
 world ! 
 
 His cap was of so many bright colors, 
 that it seemed, for all the world, as if he was 
 carrying about ever so many kaleidoscopes 
 on the top of his head. 
 
 In his hand he held a curious red book, 
 and in the other a pen made from the bill of 
 a little snow-bird, and then dangling from 
 the button of his queer old-fashioned coat 
 was a little ink-bottle, into which he would 
 now and then dip his pen, and write some- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 15 
 
 thing in the little red-book. I suppose the 
 names of the children whose beautiful pres- 
 ents he was so carefully examining. 
 
 His work-room! — oh, it was larger and 
 handsomer than all the toy-shops of the 
 whole world put together ! 
 
 It took a great while to walk from one end 
 to the other, and it was so high you could 
 scarcely see the top of it ; and all round and 
 round, and one over the other, were great 
 shelves filled with such beautiful things ! 
 
 Why one would think a group of real 
 living little children were gathered there, so 
 much like life were the large wax dolls, with 
 beautiful long curls falling over their pretty 
 necks, and bright sparkling eyes which could 
 open and shut, and all dressed, too, so finely 
 in pink and blue silk, and laces and gauzes, 
 with little gloves on their tiny hands, and 
 little wee slippers on their cunning little feet. 
 
16 THE LITTLE 
 
 And then besides all these wax dolls, there 
 were whole shelves full, yes indeed, of other 
 kinds of pretty dolls, — wooden dolls and kid 
 dolls, some with very handsome dresses, too, 
 and a great many others with only a thin 
 fold of tissue paper wrapped around their 
 delicate limbs, — for Santa Claus loved to 
 have little girls ingenious, so sometimes he 
 gave them one of these, that they might cut 
 and make its little dresses themselves. This 
 was a nice idea of the old gentleman's, 
 because it teaches little girls to cut and 
 make their own dresses, perhaps, bye and 
 bye, and to be useful to their mothers, which 
 every good girl will try to be. 
 
 And as all these charming dolls would 
 want something to sleep upon, Santa Claus 
 had provided the prettiest little bedsteads, 
 furnished with nice beds and mattresses, 
 fine linen sheets, and rose blankets, as white 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 17 
 
 and soft as the wool on a little lamb's back, 
 and cunning little counterpanes, and pillow- 
 cases frilled so neatly and prettily. Some of 
 these bedsteads had curtains festooned about 
 them, — ah, they looked so tempting, no 
 wonder the lady-dolls often reclined upon 
 these pretty beds ! The little dolls, too, had 
 the cunningest straw cradles, and little 
 couches, all covered with soft velvet, for 
 them to lie in. And, when tired of play, 
 they would like to rest themselves, there 
 were all manner of sofas and chairs for 
 them to sit down upon. Then there were little 
 bureaus for their fine dresses, and little 
 tables, and little looking-glasses, and such a 
 variety of crockery, such charming tea-sets, 
 and dinner-sets of beautiful china, all gilt 
 and sprigged with roses and pinks ; and nice 
 wooden-ware, so white and clean, and pewter 
 tea-cups and saucers, and coffee urns, and 
 2* 
 
18 THE LITTLE 
 
 platters, and spoons, and little tin kitchens, 
 and pails, and sance-pans, so bright you 
 would almost think they were silver. 
 
 Ah, dont you wish you had some of them ? 
 Well, only try to deserve them, my dear 
 little girl, and you may be very sure Santa 
 Claus will not forget you ! Wait for the 
 merry Christmas bells, and see. 
 
 Ah, are those live horses capering about 
 in yonder corner, with their arched necks 
 and long flowing manes ? 
 
 You would surely think so. 
 
 And then such splendid gilt coaches, 
 drawn by the handsomest and most mettle- 
 some steeds, — you never saw any so fine, — 
 nor such gay rocking-horses, and beautiful 
 little ponies. Then there are noble great 
 dogs and greyhounds, little curly lap-dogs, 
 with long ears and little pink eyes peeping 
 at you, and lots of cows and sheep, and pigs 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 19 
 
 and geese, and turkeys, and ducks, and hens, 
 and chickens, that can moo and blaa-a, — 
 squeak, — hisse-se, — gobble, — quack, — cut- 
 cut-ke-dar-cut, and peep-peep, too, if they have 
 a mind. And as Santa Claus likes to have his 
 little friends know all about the animals that 
 went with the good Noah into the ark, he 
 has taken pains to collect them all together, 
 that you may see them, from the great ele- 
 phant down to the little dormouse ; nor has he 
 forgotten the pretty white dove that returned 
 to Noah, with the olive leaf in its little bill. 
 
 Besides these, there are whips and tops, 
 marbles and balls, whistles, trumpets^ guns, 
 swords, and drums. 
 
 Ah, don't you wish you had some of them ? 
 Be kind and dutiful, then, my dear boy, and 
 you may be very sure Santa Claus will noi 
 forget you ! Wait for the merry Christmas 
 bells, and see. 
 
20 THE LITTLE 
 
 On each side of this apartment were two 
 doors, so large it seemed as if a giant only 
 could move them ! But what will not Love 
 and Kindness overcome ! — and it was these 
 which so gently turned their hinges, that 
 children who deserved them might be re- 
 warded by the treasures they protected. 
 
 One of these doors was hung all around 
 with beautiful pictures, and portraits of 
 Mother Goose, who, next to Santa Claus, 
 has done the most to make children happy ; 
 and Mother Hubbard, and Dame Wiggens, 
 of Lee, and Dame Trot, Madame Blaize, 
 worthy Mrs. Horner and her daughter Patty, 
 and that remarkable old lady who lived in 
 her shoe with such an interesting little fam- 
 ily, an example I am sure for all those who 
 wish to live in large houses, besides portraits 
 of many other justly-celebrated ladies. There 
 were also very correct likenesses of Blue- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 21 
 
 Beard and Jack the Giant Killer, Tom 
 Thumb, the Three Wise Men of Gotham, 
 the Man in the Moon, and Peter Pumpkin 
 and Peter Piper. 
 
 Oh, what happiness for children who love 
 to read, was treasured up within the vast 
 room into which this door opened ! 
 
 Shelf upon shelf of the nicest and pretti- 
 est books, all filled with interesting stories 
 and beautiful pictures, which are written and 
 painted on purpose for them. What encour- 
 agement to be good, to receive from kind 
 Santa Claus one of these beautiful books ! 
 
 The other large door had the most curi- 
 ous netting hanging over it, made of twisted 
 candy red and white, and filled with all kinds 
 of pretty bon-bons, and large bouquets, and 
 wreaths of flowers, all made of sugar, fes- 
 tooned about it. 
 
22 THE LITTLE 
 
 Now, what do you suppose was in this 
 large room ? 
 
 Guess. 
 
 Why, sugar-plums and candy! 
 
 Yes, sugar-plums and peppermints, lozen- 
 ges and almonds, and lemon-drops, from the 
 floor smoothly carpeted with jujube paste, 
 away up to the ceiling, all studded over with 
 great sugar stars ! Not even Stewart him- 
 self can make half so fine a display, — 
 although it is said he is a very good friend 
 and customer of Santa Claus ; but with all 
 his great storehouse of sweets, he never, no 
 never, can equal those vast heaps of sugar- 
 plums, and the great high pyramids of 
 vanilla, cream, lemon, and strawberry candy, 
 all twisted and braided together so beauti- 
 fully, and some so transparent you would 
 think they were made of glass ! 
 
 Now I will tell you about the curious little 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 23 
 
 people whom Santa Claus employs to make 
 all these fine things for good children, and 
 how it is that he knows so well who deserve 
 and who do not deserve to receive a present 
 from him on merry Christmas eve. 
 
 Each of these three rooms had a great 
 many little creatures, — oh, so small and so 
 cunning, of all trades at work in them. 
 Little carpenters, with their little hammers 
 and saws, — little masons, with little hods 
 of little bricks, — little painters, with 
 the tiniest brushes and paint-pots, — little 
 cabinet-makers, and little shoemakers tap- 
 tap-tapping the little dolls' shoes, — little 
 tailors, little milliners, and little mantua- 
 makers, all so busy ! 
 
 Then, in the room where the books were 
 kept, were some of the oddest and gravest 
 little men and women, with green spectacles 
 on their noses, perched up on high stools, 
 
24 THE LITTLE 
 
 writing, writing, writing, as fast as they 
 could write, with little pens made from a 
 humming-bird's wing, and the tiny eggshell 
 of a wren for an inkstand ; then there was 
 a little printing-press, and a little book- 
 bindery, and just as fast as the wise ones 
 who sat in the high places finished what they 
 were writing, they tossed it to the little 
 printer, who tossed it to the little book- 
 binder, who tossed it again, a beautiful 
 bound book, upon the shelves. 
 
 But the prettiest little creatures were at 
 work among the sugar-plums. You would 
 think they were themselves made of sugar, 
 they looked so sweet! How swiftly their 
 little hands rolled out the pretty plums so 
 true and round, and wove and twisted 
 together the slender threads of candy, while 
 others were forming the most beautiful 
 boxes to be filled with 'bon-bons ! 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 25 
 
 Now all around these rooms were hung 
 bright little silver bells, which rang out as 
 clear and sweet as the notes of the skylark, 
 when, at early morning, she springs from 
 the dewy grass, and, on glittering wings, 
 flies up, up, up, into the blue vault of 
 heaven. 
 
 You have heard, I dare say, of those little 
 birds that sometimes whisper good and bad 
 tidings in the ear. Did you never hear 
 your mother say : 
 
 "Ah, a little bird told me?" 
 
 Well, Santa Claus has a great many of 
 these beautiful winged messengers to bring 
 him tidings about good and naughty chil- 
 dren, and whenever the flutter of their wings 
 is heard, then the little silver bells tinkle, 
 tinkle, tinkle, so sweetly and softly, like the 
 song of the lilly of the valley when the 
 bright rain drops find it hid beneath the 
 3 
 
26 THE LITTLE 
 
 green leaves, and kiss its pretty modest 
 head. 
 
 If the little birds bring good news, they 
 dart swiftly to the shoulder of Santa Claus, 
 chirruping in his ear a few sweet notes. 
 Then the little bells rejoice too, and ring 
 out cheerily and merrily, while the fingers 
 of the little work-people move faster and 
 faster, because it is such a pleasure, I sup- 
 pose, to work for good children. And they 
 smile and nod to one another, and caress the 
 pretty little birds that have brought such 
 glad tidings, and as the bells keep merrily 
 chiming, in low sweet voices, they sing : 
 
 Hark, hark, — the merry bells ring ! 
 
 Ding, dong, ding, — ding, dong, ding ! 
 Now our fingers must fly faster, 
 That will please our kind good master ; 
 Who loves, on merry Christmas night, 
 O'er chimneys wide to take his flight, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 27 
 
 Rewarding all good girls and boys, 
 With these, our work of pretty toys. 
 
 Ding, (long, ding, — ding, dong, ding ! 
 
 Hark, hark, — the merry bells ring ! 
 
 But when these pretty messenger birds 
 brought tidings of disobedient, undutiful 
 children, then their bright wings grew dull 
 and drooped heavily, and they flew slowly 
 and sadly around, while the little silver bells 
 sighed like the night wind through the 
 branches of the weeping-willows, and a 
 great black raven, which sat perched in one 
 corner, lifted his large wings slowly, and flew 
 off croaking, croaking, to the dark dismal 
 room where the names of bad children were 
 registered. 
 
 Only six more days then to Christmas, 
 and as the pretty birds continued to whisper 
 more frequently of good than of disobedient 
 children, Santa Claus was obliged to hurry 
 
28 THE LITTLE 
 
 his little work-people as fast as possible, lest 
 all who deserved a reward might not receive 
 one. For most tenderly does the kind old 
 gentleman love those who are good, and he 
 does not mean that a single one shall be 
 forgotten at happy Christmas time. 
 
 " Fifty more dolls to make ! " cried Santa 
 Claus, with a cheerful smile. 
 
 " Fifty more dolls to make ! " echoed fifty 
 little voices, laughing merrily. 
 
 " Fifty more dolls to dress ! " said the 
 little milliners and mantua-makers, briskly 
 threading their needles. 
 
 " Bedsteads, bureaus, and chairs are 
 wanted ! " said Santa Claus, rubbing his 
 hands. 
 
 " Bedsteads, bureaus, and chairs ! " quoth 
 the little cabinet-makers, smiling, and draw- 
 ing forth their little mahogany boards. 
 
 " Thirty more superb rocking-horses, and 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 29 
 
 a dozen chariots ! " said Santa Claus, almost 
 dancing for joy, because the little messenger 
 birds had just brought him tidings of so 
 many good boys. 
 
 " Thirty more rocking-horses, and a dozen 
 chariots ! " laughed the little saddlers and 
 carriage-makers. 
 
 Then Santa Claus stepped briskly toward 
 the library of pretty books. 
 
 " One hundred more of the choicest and 
 best little volumes must be ready by Christ- 
 mas eve ! " he cried, with a triumphant look. 
 
 " Hem ! ah ! yes ! — one hundred more 
 books ! " and the grave little writers stroked 
 their beards, smoothed down their parch- 
 ment robes, and dipping their pens in the 
 little inkstands, cast up their eyes in thought, 
 and then faster than little humming-birds 
 among the flowers did their pens dart over 
 the paper. And the little printers busily 
 3* 
 
30 THE LITTLE 
 
 prepared their types, and the book-binders 
 smiled and unrolled their brightest and 
 prettiest morocco. 
 
 Just then the little silver bells began to 
 tinkle softly, and in flew two little messenger 
 birds, and Santa Claus laughed outright 
 when they put their pink bills to his ear, 
 and he heard the good news they brought. 
 
 Then he hastened in among the sweet 
 little creatures employed in preparing the 
 nice sugar-plums and candy, and tossing off 
 his gay-colored cap, he scooped it up full 
 of the prettiest plums, and began throwing 
 them about, and pelting the merry little 
 work-people, and tapping them over the 
 ears with long sticks of candy. 
 
 " Come, come, go to work, go to work," 
 he cried laughing, " one hundred pounds 
 of candy, and fifty more boxes of the nicest 
 sugar-plums ! " -and the order was repeated, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 31 
 
 in merry tones, by the cheerful little crea- 
 tures. 
 
 " One hundred pounds of candy, and fifty 
 more boxes of sugar-plums ! " and immedi- 
 ately they began, like so many busy bees, to 
 collect together their sweets. 
 
 After Santa Claus had thus given all the 
 necessary orders within doors, he put on one 
 of the oddest caps was ever seen : it was 
 neither round, or square, or pointed ; but 
 looked for all the world just like a broad 
 laugh, — just, in fact, as the merry old gen- 
 tleman felt, in such charming good humor 
 was he put by the good behavior of little 
 children, — and throwing a mantle of fur 
 over his shoulders, and taking an odd stick in 
 his hand, out he trudged to his beautiful forest, 
 of which I have not yet told you, to see after 
 the cutting down of his Christmas trees. 
 
32 THE LITTLE 
 
 Oh, how pure and white the snow lay all 
 around him, and sparkling too, as though 
 diamonds and pearls had been crushed and 
 sprinkled over its surface. And as he went 
 along, he could hear the click, click, click, 
 of his merry little woodmen, as they worked 
 in the forest. 
 
 Still the pretty birds flew about him, and 
 the cheerful chime of the silver bells went 
 with him. 
 
 By and by the sound of the little axes 
 came nearer and nearer, and pretty soon 
 Santa Glaus arrived on the borders of a 
 large forest, — so large it would take a great 
 many days to pass around it. 
 
 And here were growing most beautiful 
 Christmas trees, tall and fair, with branches 
 so charmingly fresh and green as delighted 
 the eye to look upon. And there were 
 hundreds of tiny woodmen, all dressed in 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 33 
 
 forest green, with sprigs of holly in their 
 caps, and bright shining little axes in their 
 hands, and little pruning-knives fastened in 
 their belts, with every other implement 
 necessary to keep this beautiful grove in 
 order. All the year round were the little 
 woodmen busily at work, and never were 
 any trees so tall and straight, or planted in 
 rows so true and perfect, — so true, indeed, 
 that for miles one could look up and down 
 the long colonnades overarched with green, 
 and their base resting on the crisped spark- 
 ling snow. 
 
 Always, a week before the merry Christmas 
 bells sounded, the ringing of the little axes 
 was heard from morning until night echoing 
 through the forest. And merrily the little 
 woodmen plied their tasks, for they thought 
 with every stroke of the axe, how charming 
 those Christmas trees would look, when all 
 
34 THE LITTLE 
 
 blazing with wax lights, and every green branch 
 bearing some present for happy children. 
 
 As soon as the woodmen heard the step 
 of their beloved master, they all threw down 
 their axes, and doffing their caps, waved 
 them over their heads, crying : 
 
 "A merry Christmas ! A merry Christmas ! " 
 And the little messenger birds circled 
 swiftly around the head of good Santa Claus, 
 — and some perched upon all the odd angles 
 of his cap, and some upon his shoulder, and 
 some clung, with their tiny talons, to the 
 shaggy borders of his fur mantle, while from 
 their throats burst forth the most delicious 
 music, just as in a bright May morning, when 
 beautiful rosy clouds wreathe the eastern 
 sky, and the stars are yet twinkling in the 
 clear blue depths of the heavens, you have 
 heard the early song of the birds at your 
 window, — while floating softly, softly floating 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 35 
 
 on the clear air, came the chime of the silver 
 bells. 
 
 Then the little woodmen clapped their 
 hands, and began merrily to sing : 
 
 Hark ! the silver bells are ringing, — 
 
 Hark ! the joyful birds are singing, 
 
 Happy tidings to us bringing ! 
 
 Now hew the branches, — trim with care, 
 
 Knobs nor notches must we leave, 
 
 Cheerily, cheerily we prepare 
 
 For the merry Christmas eve. 
 
 Hark ! the bells ring, 
 
 Ding, — dong, — ding, 
 
 Hark ! the birds sing, 
 
 Tirre-r-r-rle — le — ling ! 
 
 " One hundred more of your finest Christ- 
 mas trees must be hewn down and trimmed ! " 
 cried Santa Claus, with a joyous laugh, lifting 
 a little axe, and striking it into the rind of a 
 beautiful cedar tree. 
 

 36 THE LITTLE 
 
 " One hundred more Christmas trees ! " 
 echoed one hundred little woodmen, catching 
 up their axes, and swinging them over their 
 heads, — then, with a merry hurra, one hun- 
 dred shining blades were buried deep in the 
 slender trunks of one hundred trees, while 
 through the forest aisles rang their cheerful 
 song : 
 
 While the birds sing, 
 
 Ho ! work cheerily, 
 
 While the bells ring 
 
 Ho ! work merrily, — 
 
 Cleave the Christmas tree ! 
 From its branches are gathered 
 Pretty gifts that are treasured 
 
 For those whom the little birds sing. 
 Then their eyes will sparkle brightly, 
 And their little feet trip lightly, 
 
 While gaily the Christmas bells ring. 
 
 Ho ! strike cheerily, 
 
 While the birds sing, 
 
 Ho ! strike merrily, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 37 
 
 While the bells ring, — 
 Cleave the Christmas tree ! 
 
 Then Santa Claus whistled softly, and 
 immediately a large lion, whose mane seemed 
 made of threads of gold, came walking with 
 great dignity toward him ; and as he swept 
 his long tail around, the pure white snow 
 rose in a silver cloud about him. When he 
 came near, he lifted his huge head, and 
 looked up into his master's face, as much 
 as to say, 
 
 " Here I am, good master, — what would 
 you with me ? n 
 
 Then Santa Claus gently patted his long, 
 flowing mane, and said : 
 
 "Brave Leo, you must bear me to the 
 Treasure Cave." 
 
 Shaking his golden mane joyfully, the lion 
 crouched down, and Santa Claus seating 
 4 
 
38 THE LITTLE 
 
 himself upon his back, away they went 
 through the forest glades. 
 
 Still the pretty messenger birds flew about 
 him, and the cheerful chime of the silver 
 bells went with him. 
 
 And we may always have the soft chime 
 of silver bells in our hearts, if we will. It 
 is but to " do unto others as we would they 
 should do unto us," and their sweet music 
 will ever dwell with us ! 
 
 Children who love and fear God, who obey 
 their parents, who are kind and gentle, 
 neither selfish or cruel, carry always with 
 them the soft chime of silver bells ! Happy, 
 happy children ! 
 
 On went the Lion, until at last he stopped 
 before a large cave, the door of which looked 
 like one solid pearl, with hinges of gold. He 
 raised his paw, and struck three strokes 
 upon it, and immediately it opened wide, and 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 39 
 
 in walked brave old Leo, with his good 
 master, Santa Claus, upon his back. 
 
 Never was there anything so brilliant as 
 the interior of this cave ! It seemed as if all 
 the bright shining stars had here met to- 
 gether, so many hundreds of wax-lights were 
 blazing on every side, and as far as the eye 
 could reach. And oh, such beautiful things 
 as they revealed, — I never could tell you 
 the half! 
 
 But as they were all intended for Christ- 
 mas gifts, many of you will, I hope, receive 
 them, for the practice of those virtues they 
 were intended to reward. For, in letters 
 of gold, were written over some, " A Reward 
 for Obedience ; " over others, " For Humil- 
 ity ; " others, " Good-nature," — " Industry," 
 — "Kindness," — "Neatness;" besides many 
 other traits of character, which all should 
 strive to possess. 
 
40 THE LITTLE 
 
 Then Santa Claus sprang off the lion's 
 back, and clapped his hands thrice, and 
 instantly the cave was filled with the most 
 beautiful little beings. Their hair was as 
 the spray of a fountain shimmering in the 
 moonbeams, and as rosy summer clouds, 
 their graceful drapery floated around them. 
 Light as air, they came on rainbow wings, 
 at the summons of Santa Claus, and when 
 he told them of the pleasing errand which 
 brought him there, and that more of those 
 beautiful gifts from the Treasure Cave were 
 required, the glad creatures flew merrily 
 round, singing : 
 
 Hither robin, hither wren, 
 Bear us to the forest green ; 
 Hither goldfinch, hither dove ; 
 Bear us to our work of love. 
 
 And immediately the whirr of wings was 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 41 
 
 heard, and in flew a flock of pretty birds, 
 harnessed, by threads spun from the film of 
 a gossamer, to little chariots, made of the 
 inner shell of the nautilus. 
 
 Then the little creatures who presided 
 over the Treasure Cave, hastened to fill these 
 beautiful chariots with the most charming 
 things can be conceived ; and when they 
 had finished, they lighted little waxen tapers, 
 and placed them in brilliant rows all around 
 the chariots, and each pretty bird caught one 
 up also in its tiny talons. 
 
 When all was ready, the graceful little 
 beings folded their bright pinions, and sprang 
 into the chariots, and lightly touching the 
 slender rejns, sang : 
 
 Hasten robin, hasten wren, 
 Bear us to the forest green: 
 Hasten goldfinch, hasten dove, 
 Bear us on our work of love. 
 
 4* 
 
42 THE LITTLE 
 
 Then all the birds spread their wings, and 
 rose up, — up, — up, bearing with them the 
 beautiful chariots ; and away, away they 
 soared to the forest green. 
 
 And the good lion shook his golden mane, 
 and Santa Claus once more seated himself 
 upon his back, and went forth from the 
 Treasure Cave. 
 
 And still the pretty messenger birds flew 
 around him, and the soft chime of the silver 
 bells went with him. 
 
 When he reached the forest, it seemed as 
 if bright golden and rose-tinted clouds were 
 resting upon it, — it was the golden and 
 rose-tinted chariots descending among the 
 Christmas trees. 
 
 Then, oh, how merrily and how nimbly 
 the little beings worked, — flying from 
 branch to branch, hanging on every stem 
 and bough and quivering spray the beautiful 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 43 
 
 gifts they had brought from the Treasure 
 Cave, and lighting up their dark green 
 branches with the waxen tapers. 
 
 Ah, don't you wish one of those beautiful 
 Christmas trees could be placed in your 
 mother's parlor ? 
 
 Love and obey her then, dear children, 
 and you may be sure Santa Claus will not 
 forget you ! Wait for the merry Christmas 
 bells, and see. 
 
 When their pleasing task was ended, the 
 cheerful little creatures with the rainbow 
 wings, once more mounted their pretty cha- 
 riots, singing gaily: 
 
 Home again robin, — home again wren, 
 
 Bear us from the forest green ; 
 
 Home again goldfinch, — home again dove, 
 
 We have done our work of love. 
 
 Happy children will they be 
 
 Who shall win our Christmas' tree ! 
 
44 THE LITTLE 
 
 Then Santa Claus patted the lion's head, 
 and said : 
 
 " Now, faithful Leo, your task is ended ! " 
 and the great creature, resting his head 
 against his master's knee, looked lovingly 
 up into his face with his great subdued eyes, 
 and turning, walked slowly away. 
 
 In no way does time fly so swiftly as 
 w T hen employed in doing good actions, and 
 therefore, when Santa Claus came out of 
 the dark green forest, he was surprised to 
 see the stars already shining brightly down 
 from the blue sky, and the soft moonbeams 
 playing around him. 
 
 Then he walked briskly homeward, where 
 a good supper was already waiting his 
 return ; and such excellent promoters of 
 appetite are exercise and cheerfulness, that 
 the old gentleman made a very hearty meal, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 45 
 
 and you may be sure he had the soft 
 chime of silver bells in his heart. As soon 
 as he had finished his supper, he lighted his 
 pipe, and with a cheerful smile upon his 
 countenance, and peace in his heart, sat 
 down in the corner of the old-fashioned 
 fireplace. 
 
 And now, while he is resting from the 
 pleasant labors of the day, I will tell my 
 dear little readers about some of those 
 children of whom the pretty messenger 
 birds had brought tidings, both pleasant and 
 sorrowful, that in their histories you may trace 
 those qualities which you should try most 
 to cultivate, and learn also to shun those 
 which can make you neither happy or be- 
 loved. 
 
 Listen, then, while from the records of 
 the little red book, in which Santa Claus has 
 
46 THE LITTLE 
 
 registered their names, I relate to you the 
 following histories : 
 Let us begin with 
 
 The Broken Silver-Spoon. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 
 
 47 
 
 THE BROKEN SILVER-SPOON. 
 
 "Come here Edward," said Mr. Kemble 
 to his little son ; " was not that Richard 
 Davis you were playing with this after- 
 noon ? " Edward hesitated. He knew he 
 had done wrong, for his father had more 
 than once forbidden him to play with 
 Richard. But Edward was a boy of truth, 
 and although he knew he might be punished 
 for his disobedience, he would not screen 
 himself by telling a lie. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he replied, "it was Richard 
 Davis." 
 
 " Have I not forbidden you to play with 
 
48 THE LITTLE 
 
 him, sir? Then how dare you disobey 
 me ? " said his father, sternly. 
 
 " Indeed, I am very sorry," answered 
 Edward," but Richard told me this afternoon 
 he had a beautiful little ship which his uncle 
 brought him from China, and asked me to 
 go home with him and see it. I had no 
 idea of playing with him when I left school, 
 but I wanted to look at his ship very much." 
 
 " Very well, Edward. I believe you have 
 told me the truth, and although you did 
 very wrong to go home with Richard with- 
 out permission, I will pass over your fault 
 without punishment," said Mr. Kemble. 
 " But remember, Edward, never disobey me 
 in this matter again. Richard is a bad boy. 
 You cannot be in his company without 
 sharing in his mischief, — I fear wickedness, 
 — and before you know it, my dear son, 
 your name will be joined with his in some 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 49 
 
 affair which will disgrace you. Always 
 shun the company of bad boys, Edward, — 
 3^ou can learn no good from them, only evil. 
 You wrote for your copy yesterday, ' Evil 
 communications corrupt good manners ; ' 
 remember it, for although an old saying, it 
 is a very good one." 
 
 Jesus loved all little children. How sad, 
 then, that any should become so wicked as 
 Richard Davis ! 
 
 He was only eleven years old, but he was 
 most artful and cunning. He was always 
 planning some mischief, — always leading 
 his school-fellows into bad scrapes, and then 
 would leave them to get out themselves, and 
 by falsehood, would wickedly try to screen 
 himself from punishment. And yet most 
 of the boys liked him, and were glad to 
 play with him, for he was full of fun, and 
 always had some new game to propose, 
 5 
 
50 THE LITTLE 
 
 or some story to tell to make them 
 laugh. 
 
 They did not know their danger, any 
 more than the little bird who is charmed to 
 death by the rattlesnake. 
 
 Edward Kemble was of the number, and 
 notwithstanding his father had so often 
 warned him and forbidden him to keep 
 company with Richard, I am sorry to say 
 that, though a boy of good principle, except 
 in this matter, and of good habits, he too 
 frequently disobeyed him. It was, perhaps, 
 the only thing in which Edward was ever 
 guilty of disobedience, and we shall see how 
 he was punished for his fault. 
 
 Edward was invited to spend the day with 
 his little cousin, who lived at some distance 
 from his father's, quite in the upper part of 
 the city. He was very much pleased with 
 the idea of going, for he loved them dearly, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 51 
 
 and never failed to enjoy himself when he 
 visited them. 
 
 It was with a happy heart, then, that he 
 bade his mother good bye, and with great 
 glee ran skipping over the pavements. He 
 had not gone far, when who should he meet 
 but Richard Davis. 
 
 " Hillo ! " says Richard, — " where are you 
 going, Ed?" 
 
 Edward was sorry he had met him, 
 because he had promised his father, only 
 the day before, that he would never play 
 with Richard again, and he meant to keep 
 his word. 
 
 " I am going to my aunt Hunt's to spend 
 the day," he replied, hurrying on as fast as 
 he could. 
 
 "Well, dont be in such a hurry, Ed, — - 
 do you mean your aunt who lives away up 
 in Fourteenth street ? " said Richard. 
 
52 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " By George, I'm glad ! " exclaimed Rich- 
 ard, slapping Edward on the back, " why, I 
 axn going that way myself, — come along, — 
 how lucky I met you ! " 
 
 Edward wanted the courage to say " I had 
 rather walk alone." He felt sorrv, and 
 almost ashamed, and walked on with his 
 eyes cast down, and all his fine spirits gone. 
 Richard kept close by his side. 
 
 " Why, what in the world ails you, Ed ? 
 You are as glum as a sick monkey ! " he 
 cried, beginning to laugh and talk, and say- 
 ing droll things to all the little girls and boys 
 they met. He would dance up to the 
 windows of the toy-shops, and make all 
 sorts of faces at the dolls and pretty things ; 
 he would open his mouth, and make believe 
 he would eat all the candy and cakes at the 
 confectioner's, — and once Edward really 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 53 
 
 saw him snatch an apple from the fruit-stand 
 of a poor old woman. But he was so funny, 
 and so amusing, that by-and-by Edward 
 could not help beginning to laugh too, and 
 in a little while forgot all about his promise 
 to his father. 
 
 They had nearly reached Fourteenth 
 street, when Richard pulled from his pocltet 
 the half of the handle of a silver table-spoon. 
 
 "Look here, Ed, only see what I found 
 this morning, — solid silver, every bit of it ! 
 Come, let us sell it, and get something to 
 eat, for I am hungry as a wolf ! " 
 
 " Why, where did you find it ? " said 
 Edward, examining the silver, which bore 
 the initials R. D. "How heavy it is. R. 
 D., how queer ; why that stands for your 
 own name, Richard Davis. Where did you 
 find it ? " 
 
 "Why, my mother gave it to me, to be 
 5* 
 
54 THE LITTLE 
 
 sure," answered Richard, coloring up, — "1 
 only said I found it out of fun. Here is 
 a jeweller's : now, if you will go in, Ed, and 
 ask him to buy it, I will give you half the 
 money." 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Edward, handing 
 him back the broken spoon, — "I had rather 
 not. I will walk on, for it is time I was at 
 my aunt's, — the clock has struck eleven." 
 
 " Well, well, just stop a bit, wont you, — 
 come, come in with me, it wont take you 
 a minute, — why what are you afraid of, — 
 do you suppose I stole it 1 " said Richard. 
 
 No. Edward could not believe Richard 
 so base as to steal, — yet he felt uneasy, and 
 would gladly have gone on his way. But 
 Richard, taking him by the arm, almost 
 dragged him into the store. 
 
 " Do you buy old silver here ? " said he, 
 boldly going up to the counter. 
 
. 
 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 55 
 
 " Yes, sometimes we do," replied the 
 man, looking at the two boys rather suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " This boy," continued Richard, pointing 
 to Edward, " has some to sell, — here it 
 is, — what will you give for it ? " 
 
 Edward was so amazed at this falsehood 
 that he could not speak. He felt sick and 
 faint, and would have run out of the store if 
 he could. 
 
 The man took the piece of silver in his 
 hand, and carefully examined and weighed 
 it, at the same time casting suspicious 
 glances at the two boys. The confusion of 
 Edward confirmed him in the idea that the 
 broken spoon was stolen. 
 
 " What is your name 1 " he asked, looking 
 at Edward. 
 
 But before he could answer, Richard, slyly 
 winking at Edward, boldly replied : 
 
56 THE LITTLE 
 
 "Jacob Smith, sir, and mine is Thomas 
 Jones. We live in Mercer street." 
 
 The jeweller opened a little drawer, and 
 dropped the broken handle in it. 
 
 " Very well," said he, " it is good silver, I 
 believe, but I must wait until the boss 
 comes in before I can agree to take it ; you 
 can wait, or you may call again in an hour." 
 
 This was addressed to Edward. 
 
 Edward had by this time recovered him- 
 self. He was shocked at the duplicity of the 
 bad boy, and looking the man in the face, he 
 said : 
 
 " The silver is not mine, sir, — I have 
 nothing to do with it, — I only came into the 
 store with Richard." 
 
 Not yours, then, — here, you fellow, how is 
 this ? — did not you just tell me your name 
 was Thomas Jones?" exclaimed the jeweller, 
 turning to the spot where Richard had been 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 57 
 
 standing, but the guilty boy had, unobserved, 
 already slipped out of the store. " This 
 looks very strange," said the man, " there is 
 some trickery here, — you stole the silver, 
 you young rascal ! " 
 
 " I stole the silver ! " cried Edward, his 
 face crimson with indignation, — " I steal!" 
 
 " One of you did, if not both, I will be 
 bound," answered the jeweller. " You have 
 an honest face, my chap, I will say that for 
 you, and may be you are innocent, -— - I hope 
 you are. Go along, then, and if you will 
 come back as I told you, you will probably 
 be paid." 
 
 " I shall not come back, Sir," said Edward, 
 " for the silver does not belong to me." 
 
 So saying, he walked out of the store, 
 mortified and ashamed. And oh, how well he 
 now remembered what his father had so 
 often told him, that some clay the company 
 
58 THE LITTLE 
 
 of Richard Davis would bring disgrace upon 
 him. 
 
 He had gone some rods from the store, 
 and was hoping he should see no more of 
 Richard, when, all at once, he saw him 
 sneaking from a narrow alley, and coming 
 towards him. Edward turned awav, for he 
 did not wish to speak to the wicked boy 
 again. 
 
 " What a fox that old jeweller was, Ed ! " 
 said Richard, laughing, — " but never mind, 
 — I am not going to be cheated out of 
 something to eat by him, — come, I have 
 got sixpence in my pocket, — let us buy 
 some tarts." 
 
 " No, Richard, I shall go no further with 
 you," replied Edward, firmly, " and I wish I 
 had never seen you ! " 
 
 " Pshaw, nonsense, come along, you silly 
 goose ; why, it is all a joke ; come along, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 59 
 
 Jacob Smith, — ha, ha, ha ! " cried Rich- 
 ard. 
 
 But Edward broke away from him, and 
 was just turning the corner of a cross street, 
 when, happening to look behind him, he saw 
 the jeweller and another man, at a little 
 distance, following them. Richard saw them 
 too, and, for the first time, lost his self- 
 possession. 
 
 " Oh, Edward," he cried, quite pale and 
 frightened, " do let me go with you to your 
 aunt's, — oh, do, — see, there is the house." 
 
 Edward could not help feeling sorry for 
 Richard, and was himself much frightened 
 to see the jeweller following them. He 
 walked very fast, and soon reached his aunt's 
 door. But he was too generous to leave 
 Richard in the street, so, as he ran up the 
 steps, he told him he might come with him. 
 
 Yet, after all, Richard was ashamed to go 
 
60 THE LITTLE 
 
 in with Edward, and skulked, like a mean 
 guilty boy, as he was, down the area. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt, and the children, were much 
 pleased to see Edward, — but his kind aunt 
 soon noticed that he was very pale, and 
 shook as if he was cold. 
 
 " What ails you, Edward ? Are you 
 sick ? I am afraid you have walked too 
 fast, — come, he down on the sofa and rest 
 yourself," she said, taking his hand. 
 
 " Oh, no aunt, I am very well, — but, " — 
 
 At this moment, the door bell rang. 
 
 Edward caught hold of his aunt, and 
 turning still paler, burst into tears. 
 
 " My dear boy, what is the matter ? " said 
 Mrs. Hunt, much alarmed. 
 
 " save me, save me, dear aunt, — indeed 
 I am not guilty, — I did not steal the han- 
 dle ! " cried Edward, clinging to her. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt was very much astonished, but 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 61 
 
 before she could enquire into his meaning, a 
 servant came into the room, and said two 
 persons wanted to speak with her upon 
 business of importance. She was now 
 almost as pale, and trembled quite as much 
 as poor Edward. 
 
 She went into the hall, where stood the 
 jeweller and a police officer. 
 
 " I have called on an unpleasant duty," 
 said the jeweller, " but I saw two boys come 
 in here a few moments since." 
 
 " You are mistaken, — you saw but one," 
 said Mrs. Hunt. 
 
 " Was that one your son ? " 
 " He is not, — he is my nephew." 
 " Have you ever known him to steal ? " 
 " To steal! Edward steal! Sir, I do not 
 understand you." 
 
 " Well, madam, this boy, with another one, 
 came into my store, about half an hour ago, 
 6 
 
62 THE LITTLE 
 
 and offered me some old silver for sale. I 
 know, from their manner, it was stolen, and 
 I feel it my duty to look into the business. 
 I am sorry to hurt your feelings, madam, — 
 I don't know which of them was your 
 nephew, but one did not look to be a bad 
 boy, and I really think must have been led 
 into the scrape by his companion." 
 
 " Edward is now in the next room," said 
 Mrs. Hunt. "He never told a lie in his 
 life, — if you will walk in, I am sure he will 
 be able to convince you of his innocence." 
 
 " Well, my boy," said the jeweller, very 
 kindly taking Edward's hand, " don't be 
 afraid, — you don't look like a bad boy, — 
 speak the truth, then, boldly, and tell me 
 how you came by the handle of the spoon : 
 we are not going to hurt you." 
 
 And then Edward stood up, and related 
 his accidental meeting with Richard, — his 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 63 
 
 showing him the silver, — his proposal to 
 sell it, — and also his own surprise and grief, 
 when he listened to the falsehoods which 
 Richard told in the store. 
 
 " What kind of a boy is this Richard," 
 asked the jeweller. 
 
 But Edward would not say a single word 
 against him. Mrs. Hunt, however, knew 
 enough of Richard's evil conduct to convince 
 her of his guilt, and she told the jeweller he 
 was a very bad boy, and that her nephew 
 had often been forbidden to keep his com- 
 pany. 
 
 Edward was very sorry to hear his aunt 
 speak so against Richard, and great tears 
 stood in his eyes, for he was afraid these 
 men would take poor Richard off to prison. 
 
 " Well, where is the boy ? " asked the 
 jeweller, — "I saw him with you at the 
 door." 
 
64 THE LITTLE 
 
 " He did not come in with me, sir," 
 replied Edward. 
 
 " He is somewhere about, I know, — will 
 you allow me to search for him 1 " asked the 
 jeweller of Mrs. Hunt. 
 
 " Oh," said Edward, falling on his knees, 
 " pray don't, don't take him to prison, — do 
 forgive him, — perhaps he did not steal it, — 
 dear, good Mr. Jeweller, do, do let him go, 
 just this time ! " 
 
 " You are a noble boy, I see that ! " said 
 the jeweller, wiping his eyes," and the little 
 rascal ought to be punished the more for 
 getting you into such a scrape. But go and 
 find him yourself, and bring him here, — 
 perhaps, for your sake, I will let him off." 
 
 Edward thanked him, and ran out to look 
 for Richard. It was a great while before he 
 could find him. 
 
 Richard had hid himself in a large coal- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 65 
 
 bin, in the back yard. He was crying 
 bitterly, — his face all covered with coal 
 dust, and his clothes torn and dirty. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt herself came out in the yard, 
 and urged him to go in, and either prove his 
 innocence or confess his guilt, promising 
 him, that, if he would only speak the truth, 
 she would try to help him. 
 
 Ah, wretched, unhappy Richard ! 
 
 What a figure he was when Mrs. Hunt 
 took him by the hand and led him into the 
 parlor. Here he fell on his knees before 
 the jeweller, and owned that he stole the table- 
 spoon from his mother, — only think of it, — 
 from his mother ! That he broke it in two 
 pieces, and buried the other half in the 
 yard, — poor, wicked child ! 
 
 Mrs. Hunt wept for very sorrow when she 
 heard it, and Edward sobbed as if his heart 
 would break. The jeweller was much 
 
66 THE LITTLE 
 
 affected himself at the distress of Richard 
 
 who again and again, with streaming eyes, 
 spoke his penitence, and begged forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt also added her entreaties to 
 those of Edward, and finally, the jeweller 
 consented to let Richard off, if he would 
 promise to confess his crime to his parents, 
 and ask their pardon. This Richard assured 
 him he would do, — and so, after admonish- 
 ing him severely, and warning Edward 
 against the danger of evil associates, the 
 jeweller left the house. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt now sent for a carriage, and 
 took the boys home. She set Richard down 
 at his fathers door, and then drove with 
 Edward to Mr. Kemble's. 
 
 Edward went to his father at once, and 
 with tearful eyes, related the unhappy events 
 of the morning, and acknowledged, with 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 67 
 
 sincere contrition, that he had been justly- 
 punished for disobeying his kind parents. 
 
 Mr. Kemble was deeply grieved that 
 Richard should have proved himself so base- 
 ly wicked as to steal, and he prayed that 
 God would forgive him, and give him a new 
 heart to love and fear him, and keep his 
 commandments. 
 
 And I am happy to say, that Richard did 
 sincerely repent of his great faults, and from 
 that clay became an altered boy. He left 
 off his evil habits, — he no longer delighted 
 in works of mischief, but learned his lessons, 
 and was dutiful to his parents, and obliging 
 to all his playmates. 
 
 Oh, it is so much better to be good ! 
 
 Richard was now far happier than he had 
 ever been before, for although he used to 
 laugh and cut all sorts of capers, and appear 
 to be happy, he was not really so. No one 
 
68 THE LITTLE 
 
 can be, while they are conscious of doing 
 wrong. 
 
 For many years, the old black raven had 
 croaked " Richard," " Richard," — and his 
 stocking had been filled only with birch 
 twigs and cat-o'-nine-tails, — but this year 
 the silver bells rang out merrily, and the old 
 raven almost dropped from his perch in 
 surprise, when the little messenger birds 
 came flying in, chirping joyfully the name of 
 Richard Davis. 
 

< Sysfc^-. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 69 
 
 FANNY'S VISIT TO THE COUNTRY, 
 
 It was vacation, and how happy was 
 little Fanny Lee, when, one morning, her 
 mother called her to her, and told her she 
 would let her go into the country, and spend 
 two or three weeks with her cousin, Ellen Gay, 
 
 The country, — oh, happy thought! and 
 little Fanny clapped her hands, and really 
 danced for joy. 
 
 Now, Fanny had never been in the coun- 
 try since she could remember, and she 
 thought it must be a charming thing to run 
 about in the fields, and pick flowers, and 
 hear the pretty birds sing. 
 
70 THE LITTLE 
 
 And so it is very charming. 
 
 Those children whose homes are in pretty 
 villages, among the green meadows and the 
 shady forests, do not know what pleasure it 
 is for their little friends, who have always 
 lived in the city, to breathe the sweet country 
 air, and ramble in the shady woods, or 
 through beautiful meadows and gardens. 
 
 Ah, no wonder Fanny Lee danced for 
 joy, — you would have done the same ; for 
 her father's house was the middle one of a 
 long block of three-story buildings, and all 
 along on the other side of the street were 
 great high houses too, and when the little 
 girl looked out of the upper windows, she 
 could see nothing but roofs, and chimneys, 
 and high steeples, and the tall masts of ves- 
 sels a great way off, with may-be a little peep 
 of water. Then the yard, — (and Fanny 
 thought it was a very pretty one, and so did 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 71 
 
 her mother,) — the yard was only a few feet 
 square, with a small grass plat in the centre, 
 and a few roses, and pinks, and gill-flowers 
 growing around the borders. But, oh dear, 
 even this pretty little green spot was almost 
 all the week covered with clothes which 
 Bridget spread out to whiten, or else the 
 clothes-line was stretched across it, and 
 Fanny could not run about, for fear of hitting 
 the sheets and table-cloths hung up to dry. 
 
 Poor little Fanny, no wonder she was 
 almost out of her wits for joy at the idea 
 of going into the country, where there were 
 hardly any houses, and nothing but trees 
 and grass, and cows and little lambs. 
 
 She ran down into the kitchen to tell 
 Bridget the good news, and then up into the 
 nursery to tell Susan, and whisper it to the 
 baby, and as her father came home to dinner, 
 she sprang into his arms, crying out, 
 
72 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Oh, Father, I am going into the country. 
 Mamma says so ! " 
 
 Fanny was a very good girl ; but she 
 had one fault, which sometimes made her 
 appear very silly. We shall see what it was 
 by-and-by. 
 
 Her uncle came for her himself, in his 
 old-fashioned yellow chaise. And Fanny 
 was so happy to go, she could scarcely stand 
 still while her mother tied her bonnet- 
 strings. She loved her parents dearly, and 
 the little cunning baby too, but somehow, 
 although the tears stood in her eyes when 
 she kissed them and said good-bye, just like 
 a dew-drop glistening in a pretty blue violet, 
 she laughed so soon that not a single one 
 trickled down her rosy cheek. 
 
 Her tongue went as fast as it could, all 
 day long. Did you ever hear a little grass- 
 hopper chirp, chirp, chirp-ing down in the 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 73 
 
 deep grass ? Well, that was the way Fanny 
 chirped all day. She saw a great many 
 beautiful things, as she rode along ; but, most 
 of all, she loved to look at the little white 
 lambs skipping in the meadows, and the 
 geese walking so stately and grand by the 
 road side, — how she would laugh when 
 they stretched out their long necks and 
 hissed ! 
 
 It was already sun-set when the old chaise 
 stopped at her uncle's gate. Her aunt stood 
 in the door, and her little cousin Ellen ran 
 down the steps to meet her. 
 
 " Dear me," thought Fanny, " what a funny 
 little girl, — what a queer dress she has on ! " 
 
 But Fanny was glad to see her cousin, 
 and her aunt kissed her tenderly on both 
 cheeks, and after she had taken off her bon- 
 net and little mantilla, she gave her some 
 bread and butter and a cup of sweet milk, — 
 7 
 
74 THE LITTLE 
 
 while Ellen, anxious to show how glad she 
 was to see her, brought forward her doll and 
 other playthings. Fanny thought, " Oh, the 
 cat is prettier than the doll, — I have enough 
 of dolls, — I wish I might take up the 
 kitten, — I wonder if it would scratch 
 me ! " 
 
 Pretty soon her aunt told her she had 
 better go to bed, for she knew she must be 
 tiredj after such a long ride, and then in the 
 morning she should go out into the garden 
 and pick some roses. So Fanny went up 
 stairs into a pretty little bed-room, with 
 white curtains all around the bed. It was 
 Ellen's own room, and she and Fanny were 
 to sleep together. 
 
 The little girls undressed, and said their 
 prayers, and then they talked, and talked, — 
 and the katy-dids, out among the green 
 leaves, they talked too, and so did the great 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 75 
 
 bull-frogs and their young ones, down in the 
 pond. But, by-and-by, said Ellen. 
 
 " Are you asleep, Fanny ? " 
 
 Yes, — Fanny had dropped to sleep, her 
 words half spoken, and a sweet smile parting 
 her rosy lips, — so Ellen put her arms softly 
 over her neck, and kissed her very gently, 
 and then she shut her eyes, aud went to 
 sleep too. 
 
 " Cock-a-doodle-doo ! " cried the old rooster 
 under the window ; cock-a-doodle-doo-o-o-o ! " 
 
 " Oh, how funny ! " screamed Fanny, 
 jumping out of bed, and patting across the 
 floor, with her little bare feet, to the window. 
 " What a beautiful great bird it is, — dear 
 me, — there he is, flapping his wings again." 
 
 " Cock-a-doodle-doo ! " 
 
 " Oh, Ellen, do come here, quick. What 
 are those queer little creatures ? — do tell me." 
 
 " Goslins, Fanny." 
 
76 THE LITTLE 
 
 " What are goslins, Ellen ? " 
 
 "Little geese." 
 
 " Little geese, — oh, how droll ! " 
 
 Then Fanny laughed, and began to dress 
 herself as fast as she could, and so did 
 Ellen, and then they ran down stairs, and 
 out into the garden, before the sun had 
 pulled off his night-cap. 
 
 Every thing was so new and delightful to 
 Fanny, she could not tell how to express her 
 joy, but ran from one thing to another, just 
 like a little kitten frisking in the grass. It 
 made Ellen laugh to see her. She thought 
 her cousin Fanny was the funniest little girl 
 she ever saw. 
 
 The birds were as merry as Fanny, sing- 
 ing and twittering on the tree tops, — the 
 little butterflies flew around her, sipping the 
 dew from the shining blades of grass, or 
 the sweet clover-blossoms ; the honey-bees 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 77 
 
 hummed close to her ear, and then, before 
 she could see them, they flew and hid them- 
 selves under rose-leaves, or down in the cup 
 of the beautiful white lilies ; then the great 
 humble-bee came loom, boom, boom, and 
 brushed her curls with his glassy wing ; 
 the cattle cried moo, moo, in the barn-yard, ***- 
 the pretty lambs were skipping in the green 
 fields, — the hens cackled, — the geese gab- 
 bled, and the ducks went quack, quacking, 
 down to the little pond, peeping brightly 
 through the yellow willows, and dotted all 
 over with sweet pond-lliies. No wonder 
 the ducks loved to dive and frolic there. 
 Fanny thought how she would like to be a 
 duck, and swim out and gather whole 
 handfuls of the pretty flowers, for her dear 
 mamma. 
 
 By-and-by, Ellen said it was time they 
 
 should go in to breakfast. 
 7* 
 
78 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Oh, Fanny, only look at your pantalets, 
 and your pretty shoes ! " she cried. 
 
 Dear, dear, her pantalets were all wet 
 with the dew, and her delicate kid-slippers, 
 and pretty open-work stockings, in a very, 
 very sad plight. 
 
 " Never mind," said Fanny, carelessly, " I 
 have plenty more," and, opening her trunk, 
 she soon dressed her little feet anew, and 
 put on clean pantalets. 
 
 " Dear, what great clumsy shoes you wear, 
 Ellen ! " said she, as she tied her own pretty 
 French slippers, " how can you, — don't they 
 hurt you ? and do you like to have your 
 frocks made so high up in the neck, and 
 with long sleeves ? " 
 
 Little Ellen laughed. 
 
 " Why, Fanny, I never thought any thing 
 about it ; mother always makes my every- 
 day dresses so, but I have a pretty white 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 79 
 
 frock, and a pair of morocco shoes, to wear 
 to meeting." 
 
 " Only one white frock ! " said Fanny, 
 tossing her head ; " look here, why, I wear 
 white dresses every day, if I want to ! " pul- 
 ling, as she spoke, three or four nice ones 
 from her trunk ; " and then I have got, 
 besides, a beautiful blue silk, and a green 
 silk, and a pink barege, and ever so many 
 French calicoes. How many dresses have 
 you got, Ellen ? " 
 
 Ellen looked down and colored, for she 
 felt almost ashamed to say that she had only 
 two or three dark calicoes, one little spotted 
 muslin, and a white one. 
 
 " Oh, I have not half so many as you 
 have, Fanny." 
 
 "Well, I suppose uncle is not so rich as 
 papa, or else aunt would dress you as hand- 
 some as I do. Should not you like to ? " 
 
80 THE LITTLE 
 
 " I don't know," said Ellen, " I suppose it 
 must be a very fine thing to wear such nice 
 frocks, but I should be always afraid of 
 tearing or soiling them." 
 
 " Well, what of that, — they can be 
 washed, you know ! " exclaimed Fanny, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Yes, I know, but then mother says I 
 must always try to keep my clothes as neat 
 as I can, because it makes Betsy a great 
 deal of work if I don't." 
 
 " Who is Betsy, Ellen ? " 
 
 " Betsy lives with us." 
 
 " Oh, the servant-girl ; dear me, I should 
 not think you would care for that ! " 
 
 Ellen opened her pretty blue eyes in still 
 greater wonder, for her mother had always 
 taught her to treat Betsy, and every other 
 person employed in the family, with con- 
 sideration and kindness. Fanny, however, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 81 
 
 did not say this from a bad heart. She had 
 been very much petted at home, and had 
 never been taught to consider that it was 
 any matter at all how much work the ser- 
 vants had to do. 
 
 Just at that moment, the breakfast-bell 
 rang, so Ellen did not answer, but taking 
 her cousin by the hand, they tripped down 
 stairs. 
 
 Now, have not you found out what it was 
 that sometimes made little Fanny Lee appear 
 very foolish ? 
 
 Yes, you have guessed it, I know. 
 
 It was vanity ! 
 
 After breakfast, Mr. Gay took the little 
 girls to ride in the woods, and sometimes he 
 would let them get out of the old chaise, 
 and ramble about among the bushes, and 
 pick wintergreens and wild flowers. Here 
 they remained until nearly dinner time. 
 
82 THE LITTLE 
 
 Then, in the afternoon, some little girls of 
 Ellen's acquaintance came to play with her. 
 
 They all wore nice dark frocks and aprons, 
 and little gingham sun-bonnets, to keep them 
 from tanning. 
 
 " How they look," thought Fanny, — dear 
 me, I would not wear such dresses for the 
 world ! " and she tossed her curly head with 
 scorn at the clothes of the little girls, and 
 felt very proud, I am sorry to say, of her 
 own white muslin and her thin delicate 
 slippers. 
 
 Silly little Fanny! 
 
 Indeed, so much did she think about her 
 dress, and so much flattered was she by the 
 praises of the little girls upon her pretty 
 appearance, that it almost spoiled her play, — 
 for when they were singing, " Ring a rosey," 
 "Here we go, round the barberry bush," 
 and " Oats, peas, beans and barley," out 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 83 
 
 under the great elm-tree, it would suddenly 
 come into her foolish little head : 
 
 " How pretty my feet look by the side of 
 Ellen's great clumsy shoes ; " and then she 
 would quite forget, and put the others out, 
 so that they would have to begin the play all 
 over again. But the little girls were very 
 kind to her. They made little baskets out 
 of burrs, and gave them to her, — they 
 strung her meadow-violets for a necklace, 
 and put a pretty wreath of white daises on 
 her head ; then they carried her about on 
 chairs formed of their own slender wrists, 
 with her white arms around their necks. 
 
 Indeed, they made quite a pet of the little 
 city girl, and Fanny was very happy, and 
 thought, if it was not for her dear papa 
 and mamma, and the baby, she should never 
 want to go back into the city, it was such 
 nice fun living in the country, — only she 
 
84 THE LITTLE 
 
 wished Ellen, and the other little girls, would 
 dress as pretty as she did. 
 
 The next morning, her aunt called her 
 into her room. 
 
 " Look here, Fanny, see what I have got 
 for you, — now you may run and play where 
 you please, without fear of tanning' or of 
 wetting your feet." 
 
 And Fanny did look, — and on the bed 
 was an apron with long sleeves, and a pink 
 gingham sun-bonnet, — while in her aunt's 
 hand was a pair of the same ugly, coarse, 
 clumsy leather shoes she so much detested ! 
 
 " Here, Fanny, try these on," said Mrs. 
 Gay, smiling at the expression of the little 
 girl's face. 
 
 " What for, aunt ? I am sure I could not 
 wear such shoes ! " said Fanny, drawing 
 back. 
 
 "Why not, my dear? They are much 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 85 
 
 more suitable for you than those you have 
 on, — those are entirely too thin for the 
 country." 
 
 " Oh, aunt, I would not wear them for 
 any thing ! " 
 
 " But Ellen has such, Fanny." 
 
 " Yes, but I never wore any thing so 
 ugly ! " 
 
 Her aunt smiled again at the vanity of 
 the little girl. 
 
 " Well, Fanny, see what a pretty bonnet, 
 — I made it for you, myself, — there, it fits 
 you exactly," said Mrs. Gay. 
 
 Fanny ran to the glass, and could not 
 help thinking the bonnet was very becoming 
 to her round face, — so she thanked her 
 aunt, but begged she might not wear the 
 apron or the shoes. At first, Mrs. Gay was 
 almost tempted to insist upon her putting 
 them on ; but Fanny began to pout and 
 8 
 
86 THE LITTLE 
 
 cry, and behaved so badly, that, at last, she 
 permitted her to have her own way. 
 
 Fanny soon owned that the little sun- 
 bonnet was much more comfortable than her 
 straw one, and two or three times, when her 
 arms smarted, and her feet got all wet in the 
 high grass, she wished she had taken the 
 long-sleeved apron and the leather shoes. 
 But her vanity and love of dress was so 
 great, that she could not bear to hide her 
 pretty frock and arms, or change her little 
 slippers for any thing so frightful as those 
 thick shoes. 
 
 One day, when Fanny had been at her 
 aunt's about a week, some young ladies were 
 going to have a pic-nic a long way off in the 
 woods. 
 
 You know, I suppose, what a pic-nic is. It 
 means to go out in the pleasant summer 
 woods with little baskets filled with cakes 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 87 
 
 and tarts, and other nice things, and then, 
 when tired of pulling flowers or picking ber- 
 ries, to stop in some pretty shady spot, and 
 spread out the refreshments upon the fresh 
 green grass beneath the trees. Then all 
 gather around, and laugh, talk, and sing, 
 while they share with one another the con- 
 tents of their baskets. This is apic-nic. 
 
 Ellen's older sister, Jane, was going to be 
 one of this pleasant party to the woods, and 
 thinking it would be something very delight- 
 ful for Fanny, who had never seen any thing 
 of the kind, she asked permission of the 
 young ladies to take her and her little sister 
 with them. This request they were happy to 
 grant, and to make it pleasanter for the two 
 little girls, several other children were allowed 
 to join the party. 
 
 How happy was Fanny, as she skipped up 
 stairs to prepare for her delightful walk ! 
 
88 THE LITTLE 
 
 "You had better put on thick shoes, 
 Fanny," said her cousin Jane ; " it is a long 
 walk, and, in some places, very stony." 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Fanny, " I am going to 
 wear my light gaiter-boots. Why, Ellen, 
 are you going to put on that old dress, — 
 why, I would not be seen in it ! I shall 
 wear my green silk, and my pink shirred 
 hat." 
 
 " Why, Fanny, you must not," cried little 
 Ellen ; " you will spoil your boots, and tear 
 your beautiful silk all to pieces with the 
 briars." 
 
 " No, Fanny, you had better put on the 
 plainest dress you have, and your cape- 
 bonnet," said Jane. 
 
 " Let her wear what she pleases," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Gay, who had just come in ; "I 
 think, before the day is out, she will wish 
 she had taken your advice." 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 89 
 
 So Fanny had her own way, and appeared 
 among the young ladies, holding her sun- 
 shade in her hand, as though she was 
 dressed for a promenade in Broadway or 
 Chestnut street. 
 
 The company smiled, and looked at one 
 another, for it was very plain that little Fanny 
 Lee thought a great deal of her pretty looks, 
 and her pretty dress. 
 
 At length, they started on their walk. It 
 was a most charming morning, and, for a 
 time, Fanny thought nothing could be 
 pleasanter, as she tripped along, holding her 
 sun-shade before her face, quite like a fine 
 lady. 
 
 They soon got into the woods, and here 
 little Fanny's troubles began. Her gaiters 
 were so thin that the stones hurt her tender 
 feet, and the briars pierced through them 
 and wounded her ancles. Her dress got 
 8* 
 
90 THE LITTLE 
 
 entangled among the thorns, the bushes 
 scratched her arms, while her face and neck 
 smarted from the bite of gnats and other 
 small insects. Every few moments, she 
 would be obliged to stop and disengage her 
 dress from the briars, and her pretty sun- 
 shade was lost before she got half way. 
 
 How different from her companions ! 
 
 They were laughing, and calling to one 
 another, through the woods, — hiding in the 
 thickets, and swinging on the lower branches 
 of the trees, while poor Fanny could not 
 help crying. Her cousin Ellen was very 
 kind to her, and remained with her all the 
 time, although she wanted greatly to join 
 the other little girls in their frolic ; but, like 
 a good child, she did not forsake her cousin, 
 and tried all she could to help her out of her 
 difficulties. 
 
 When all the party met together, on the 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 91 
 
 banks of a pretty brook, which ran prattling 
 along at the foot of some fine old trees, and 
 where they were to refresh themselves with 
 cakes, &c, what a contrast did poor Fanny 
 present to the rest of the merry party, — 
 her face burned, and her eyes red with 
 weeping, — her arms scratched terribly, — 
 her dress torn, and her poor feet bruised 
 and bleeding. 
 
 The girls did all they could to comfort 
 her, for they felt sorry for her ; but they 
 could not help whispering to one another 
 that the vanity of foolish little Fanny was 
 rightly punished. 
 
 She was very glad when it was time for 
 the party to return, although she was obliged 
 to walk very slowly, because her feet pained 
 her so badly. As soon as she reached home, 
 she threw her arms around her aunt's neck, 
 and said : 
 
92 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Dear aunt, will you let me wear those 
 good thick shoes, like Ellen's, and the nice 
 long-sleeved apron, — I will never be so 
 naughty again ! " 
 
 Her aunt kissed her, and was glad in her 
 heart, for all little Fanny's troubles, for she 
 hoped they would cure her of her silly 
 vanity. 
 
 And, from that day, Fanny Lee broke 
 herself of her love for dress and finery ; and 
 when she returned home to her mother, and 
 found herself beginning to take too much 
 pride again in her pretty dresses, she would 
 remember her walk to the summer woods. 
 
 When the little messenger birds flew 
 round, no wonder they chirped the name 
 of pretty Fanny Lee, as they perched them- 
 selves, with their tiny feet, close by the ear 
 of good Santa Claus, their master. 
 
* 
 
I 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 93 
 
 f 
 
 THE LITTLE BIRD-NEST. 
 
 In a pretty grassy meadow 
 A bird had built her nest, 
 Among the little violets 
 
 Which nodded o'er her breast : 
 
 And there this little chick-a-dee, 
 Would sit the live-long day, 
 Nor would ever think of flitting 
 
 From her pretty nest away, — 
 
 Her nest among the flowers. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Unless 'twas for her breakfast, 
 (For little birds must eat,) 
 She'd fly to catch the shiny bug 
 
 Her bright eye chanced to meet. 
 
94 THE LITTLE 
 
 Two little boys, for berries 
 
 Came peeping through the grass, 
 
 And whirr-r, — up sprang the chick-a-dee 
 
 From her pretty nest, — alas ! 
 
 Her nest among the flowers ! 
 
 in. 
 
 " Look here, — look here ! " cries Harry, 
 " A pretty nest I've found ! " 
 And with his naughty little hand, 
 
 He tore it from the ground ! 
 
 " And, oh, what cunning little eggs, — 
 
 All speckled, — only see ! " 
 
 "Ah, put it back," cries little Will, 
 
 " Don't rob poor chick-a-dee 
 
 Of her nest among the flowers ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 " For Ma'ma has often told me 
 
 It is a wicked thing, 
 
 To rob the birds, — the pretty birds, 
 Which God has made to sing : 
 Oh, pray, dear Harry, put it back. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 95 
 
 Ah, do, — indeed, 'tis best, — 
 Don't rob poor pretty chick-a-dee, — 
 Pnt back her little nest, 
 
 Her nest among the flowers ! " 
 
 v. 
 
 Then Harry felt ashamed and sad, 
 
 To hear dear little Will ; 
 
 His cheeks like crimson 'gan to turn, 
 And tears his eyes to fill. 
 Then softly putting back the nest, 
 
 He cried, — " Dear Will forgive, — 
 
 I will never rob a bird again, 
 
 No, — never, while I live, 
 
 Of her nest among the flowers." 
 
 VI. 
 
 And then in little Harry's breast, 
 
 And little William's, too, 
 
 Began the silver bells to ring 
 So cheerily to and fro, — 
 
 Ding-dong-ding, dong-ding." 
 
96 THE LITTLE 
 
 THE SHELL BASKETS. 
 
 Alice and Rosetta were the daughters 
 of a poor widow woman, who lived in 3 
 small house, not far from the sea-shore, 
 where these little girls used frequently to 
 stroll, in pleasant weather, to pick up shells, 
 and the bright shining pebbles, which every 
 wave of the great rolling ocean cast upon 
 the beach. 
 
 Now, although Alice and Rosetta were 
 sisters, no two children could be more 
 unlike ; and, while the younger was a con- 
 stant source of happiness to her mother, the 
 conduct of the elder filled her with sorrow. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 97 
 
 Alice was the eldest, and was ten years 
 old. Rosetta was eight. , 
 
 But Alice was vain and idle. She thought 
 more of her pretty black eyes, and her soft 
 curling fyair, than she did of assisting her 
 mother. It is not very much, to be sure, 
 that a little girl of ten years old can do, but 
 even that little would have greatly aided her 
 mother, who, being in a feeble state of health, 
 found often her strength hardly sufficient for 
 all those labors which her poverty required 
 for the support of herself aud children. 
 Now, Alice might have swept and nicely 
 dusted their one little room, which served 
 for both kitchen and bed-room, — she might 
 have washed the dishes, and placed them on 
 the neatly-scoured shelves, — and, certainly, 
 she might have amused her dear little two- 
 year old brother, who was just as cunning 
 as he could be, toddling round on his little 
 
98 THE LITTLE 
 
 bare feet, and trying to lisp her name,— 
 yes, she might have done all this, and even 
 more, if she had only the wish to make her- 
 self useful; but she had not, and so she 
 spent her time in idleness. 
 
 But, after all, she was not happy. No, 
 not half so happy as her busy little sister 
 Rosetta, whose cheerful merry song was so 
 pleasant to hear. For she would get tired 
 of her rag-doll ; tired of the old black cat 
 and her frisky little kittens ; tired of j)laying 
 under the great tree, — in short, tired of 
 doing nothing, — and then she would begin 
 to fret, and speak cross to her sister and 
 her pretty little brother Charley. 
 
 This is always the way with idle children. 
 They become a perfect burthen to themselves. 
 
 Poor Mrs. White had tallied a great deal 
 with Alice about the sin of idleness, and had 
 oftentimes punished her very severely for 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 99 
 
 neglecting her tasks. Yet it did no good, — 
 none at all. Still Alice carelessly loitered 
 away her time, throwing as much of the 
 work which her mother gave her to do upon 
 her sister as possible, who very good-naturedly 
 never refused to assist her. 
 
 It was a happy thing for Mrs. White that 
 Rosetta was so different from Alice ; and she 
 was really a great deal prettier, with her 
 dark hazel eyes, her soft brown hair, and the 
 pleasant smile which shone upon her face. 
 But she did not know it, or think about her 
 looks ; her only wish seemed to be to help 
 her mother, and while Alice, as I have told 
 you, would be idling away her time, the little 
 feet of Rosetta were always tripping about 
 the house and garden on useful errands, or 
 her fingers busied in sewing or knitting. 
 
 Mrs. White supported herself by taking 
 in plain sewing, and by selling a few vegeta- 
 
100 THE LITTLE 
 
 bles from the narrow strip of land behind 
 the house. Very early in the morning, even 
 before the sun, Rosetta would spring from 
 her bed, and spend an hour in the garden, 
 weeding among the beet and onion beds, or 
 with her little hoe, clearing them away from 
 the cucumber and squash vines, while Alice 
 would be sound asleep. Sometimes Rosetta 
 would awaken her, and say : 
 
 " Come Alice, after the shower, last night, 
 the weeds will grow fast ; now, while the 
 ground is wet, let us go pull them up." 
 
 But Alice would only turn on her pillow, 
 and beg to be let alone, — she was not going 
 to get up so early, that she knew, she said. 
 
 Now don't you think Rosetta was much 
 happier, out in the fresh morning air, working 
 in her little garden, the beautiful birds singing 
 around her, and the grand music of the 
 ocean waves sounding in her ear, than Alice, 
 
4 
 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 101 
 
 her young face buried up in the pillow, and 
 her eyes and ears closed to all the beautiful 
 sights and sounds of nature ? Yes, I am 
 sure you do. 
 
 And, then, when bounding in from her 
 healthy exercise, her cheeks as red as roses, 
 Rosetta sat down to her breakfast of bread 
 and milk, how much prettier she looked than 
 Alice, who, peevish and sullen, her eyes 
 swollen with sleep, came, yawning and 
 gaping, to the table ! 
 
 When Rosetta had any leisure, she would 
 take the shells which she had picked up in 
 her rambles upon the beach, and make them 
 into pretty little baskets. For such a little 
 girl, who had no one to show her about 
 them, these shell baskets were really very 
 pretty ; and sometimes, when her mother 
 sent her home with the work which she had 
 been doing for the ladies in the village, Ro- 
 9* . 
 
102 THE LITTLE 
 
 setta would take her little baskets to sell, 
 and the kind ladies, pleased with her in- 
 dustry and ingenuity, would buy them for 
 their children, and praise her also for being 
 such a good girl. 
 
 When Alice found how much her sister 
 was praised, she thought she would try to 
 make some also, — it seemed a very easy 
 matter to fasten these little shells together, — 
 not at all like work. Rosetta was delighted 
 to help her aU she could, and selected for 
 her the prettiest and most even shells, and 
 taught her how to place and form them into 
 baskets. For a day or two, Alice was quite 
 busy, and thought it was the prettiest work 
 in the world, but as last she grew tired and 
 out of patience. She had been idle so long 
 that she could not busy herself even with 
 any thing so simple and so pretty as forming 
 these little shell baskets, and so she care- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 103 
 
 lessly threw them aside, half finished, and 
 took no more pains to imitate the industry 
 of her sister. 
 
 Now, it happened one day that little Ro- 
 setta was sent home with some work to a 
 very charitable lady living in the village, and 
 who had always been very kind to Mrs. 
 White. Rosetta had a grateful heart, for 
 often the lady had given her an apron, a pair 
 of shoes, and sometimes a pretty book at 
 Christmas, and so she carried in her hand a 
 cunning shell basket to give to the lady's 
 little girl. 
 
 Rosetta was asked to come into the par- 
 lor, where there were a great many ladies 
 and gentlemen, who had come up in the 
 steamboat from New York, to spend a few 
 days with Mrs. Francis. 
 
 They were all much pleased with the 
 timid, modest manners of Rosetta, so dif- 
 
104 THE LITTLE 
 
 ferent from the bold forward airs of some 
 children ; and when they saw the little shell 
 basket, and learned that it was the work of 
 her own little fingers, they praised her very 
 much, and to encourage her industry, one 
 of the ladies told her if she would make her 
 six of these pretty baskets, she would give 
 her a quarter of a dollar a-piece for them. 
 
 The great brown eyes of Rosetta opened 
 very wide, as the good lady said this, for she 
 had never sold them for more than six cents, 
 and now to think she was to get twenty-five 
 cents foreach, — one whole dollar and a-half 
 for six baskets, — oh, what joy ! 
 
 Away she skipped homeward, so happy and 
 glad to tell her mother and Alice her good 
 fortune, — what a treasure, — one dollar and 
 a-half ! How many things she could buy, — 
 yes, some nice tea and sugar for her dear 
 mother, a pair of pretty red shoes for Charley, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 105 
 
 and for Alice, a pretty pink apron, off the 
 gingham she saw hanging at one of the shop 
 windows. The good child never thought of 
 herself, — she was happy in making others 
 happy, and there was music in her heart, 
 sweet music, like the soft tinkle of silver bells. 
 When she reached home, she found her 
 mother had gone to see a sick neighbor, and 
 had left the baby to the care of Alice. But 
 the poor little fellow was crying very hard, 
 while his idle, careless sister was sitting on 
 the grass, curling up dandelion stems, and 
 hanging them over her ears, while the towel 
 her mother had given her to hem, lay un- 
 touched upon the grass. The cat had seized 
 her ball of thread, and was tossing it about 
 in her paws, — very pretty sport for pussy, 
 who, poor thing, did not know she was doing 
 any harm, — - Alice never told her so, you 
 may be very sure ! 
 
106 THE LITTLE 
 
 As soon as little Charley saw Rosetta 
 coming through the gate, he stopped crying, 
 and toddled through the thick grass to meet 
 her. She caught him up in her arms, and 
 gave him a sweet kiss, and put into his hand 
 a nice red ripe strawberry she had picked 
 under the hedge on purpose for him. 
 
 " Oh, Alice," she cried, " I have such good 
 news. Only think, a lady up at Mrs. Fran- 
 cis's wants me to make six baskets for her, 
 and she says she will give me, — now, guess 
 how much ? " 
 
 " I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care," 
 replied Alice, crossly. " Now, you may just 
 take care of the baby, for he is as ugly as 
 he can be, and I am tired of him ! " 
 
 " Oh, please, Alice, won't you see to him, 
 while I run down to the beach, and pick up 
 a few shells ? " said Rosetta, " foi I can make 
 one of my baskets before bed time, if I can 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 107 
 
 only have time to get them before the tide 
 comes in." 
 
 " No, indeed, I will do no such thing, — 
 you may look to him yourself, Miss Rosetta ; 
 a fine time I suppose you have had in the 
 village, while I have been kept close at 
 home. And here is this old towel, — I wish 
 it was all torn to strips, for I want to go oif 
 in the woods, and I have got it to hem ! " 
 
 " Well, Alice," said Rosetta, pleasantly, 
 " if you will only run down to the beach, 
 and pick up some shells, I will take care 
 of Charley, and hem the towel, while you 
 are gone. Will you, Alice ? " 
 
 " Yes, I don't care, — any thing is better 
 than staying here, — and as for sewing, I 
 hate it ! " answered Alice, tossing the work 
 into Rosetta's lap. 
 
 " Only think," continued Rosetta, as she 
 threaded her needle," only think, Alice, I 
 
108 THE LITTLE 
 
 s 
 
 am to have a dollar and a-half for my 
 baskets ! " 
 
 " Why, Rosetta, shall you, — a dollar and 
 a-half, — why, what will you do with it, — - 
 do you mean to give it to mother ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know ; somebody shall have a pair 
 of pretty red shoes, for one thing ! " said 
 Rosetta, kissing the baby. 
 
 For a moment or two, the idle girl, over- 
 come by the idea of so much money to be 
 earned by a little industry and application, 
 was half tempted to begin once more upon 
 her neglected baskets; but the sight of one 
 of her companions, as idle and thoughtless 
 as herself, coming down the road, put 
 to flight, at once, her half-formed resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 " Now, be as quick as you can, won't you, 
 Alice, for the tide will be coming in very 
 soon," said Rosetta ; and getting some play- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 109 
 
 things for the baby, she took the towel, and 
 began industriously to hem it. 
 
 In the mean time, instead of doing as she 
 had promised, Alice never went near the 
 beach, but strolled off into the woods, and 
 certain that her towel would be finished 
 without her work, she gave herself no 
 trouble about the shells. The whole after- 
 noon she wasted in the woods, doing nothing 
 but play, and hunt squirrels and bird's-nests, 
 just like a great boy. 
 
 Poor Rosetta was very much disappointed, 
 when her sister came home, and told her 
 she had forgotten all about her shells, which 
 you know was an untruth, for she did not 
 forget them, but was too lazy, and too little 
 inclined to oblige any one, to go for them. 
 
 "You said you would get them, Alice," 
 said Rosetta, gently, the tears starting to her 
 eyes. 
 
 10 
 
110 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Ho, ho, you cry-baby ! " laughed Alice ; 
 " why, I tell you I forgot it, until the tide 
 was too high. I wouldn't be so silly, if I 
 were you, — to-morrow, I am sure, will do 
 just as well ! " 
 
 " But I could have made one this eve- 
 ning, and you know it will take some time 
 to finish all six, and may-be the lady will be 
 gone," said Rosetta. 
 
 " Well, then let her go, — I'm sure I don't 
 care ! " answered the unfeeling girl. 
 
 The very next day, poor Mrs. White had 
 the misfortune to sprain her ankle, and so 
 badly that she could not touch her foot to 
 the floor. All the work, then, had to be done 
 by the little girls, for Mrs. White could only 
 sit and sew, and not fast either, for her ankle 
 pained her, and made her almost sick. Ro- 
 setta tried to do all she could, and Alice was 
 obliged to work harder than she had ever 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. Ill 
 
 done in her life. But she did not do it 
 cheerfully, as an affectionate child should 
 have done, but grumbled all the time, and 
 put as much upon her youngest sister's 
 hands to do as she could. Poor little Ro- 
 setta had not much time for her shell bas- 
 kets, yet every spare moment she had, she 
 worked upon them. It was more than two 
 weeks before the whole six were finished. 
 
 Mrs. Francis had already heard of the 
 lameness of Mrs. White, and was so good as 
 to come to the cottage herself several times, 
 accompanied by the same lady for whom 
 Rosetta was making her shell baskets. 
 
 Each time they were charmed with Ro- 
 setta. They never found her idle or ill- 
 natured ; she was always at work, either in 
 the house or garden. But with Alice they 
 were very much displeased, — they saw she 
 was idle and selfish, as well as vain, — for as 
 
112 THE LITTLE 
 
 soon as she saw Mrs. Francis coming, she 
 would run to the broken looking-glass which 
 hung over the chimney, and tie some old 
 faded ribbon round her neck, and then 
 sit down, with her hands folded, as if she 
 thought the ladies had only come to look at 
 her beauty. Silly child ! 
 
 By-and-by, the little baskets were all neatly 
 finished, and you can't tell how pretty they 
 looked, all standing in a row upon the pine 
 table, which Rosetta kept scoured as white 
 as snow. She felt very happy when, with a 
 modest courtesey, she handed them, one 
 morning, to the kind lady, who had come 
 over to the cottage to enquire after Mrs. 
 White. The lady could not help kissing 
 her bright rosy cheek, and patting her glossy 
 brown hair. 
 
 " I have left my purse at home, my good 
 little girl," she said, " but I will send you the 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 113 
 
 money you have so well earned this after- 
 noon ; and when you have time, make as 
 many of these pretty shell baskets as you 
 can, and Mrs. Francis will send them to 
 me, in New York, and I will sell them for 
 you." 
 
 Rosetta thanked her, with tears in' her 
 eyes, but Alice, turned away, blushing with 
 shame. Thus industry is always sure to be 
 rewarded, and idleness brings with it its own 
 punishment ! 
 
 That afternoon, as Rosetta was sitting on 
 the door-stone, busily knitting a little pair 
 of stockings for the baby, and Alice was 
 moping over some work which her mother 
 had commanded her to finish, Timothy, the 
 servant of Mrs. Francis, was seen coming 
 up to the house, with a box upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Here, little Miss, this is for you, from 
 10* 
 
114 THE LITTLE 
 
 Mrs. Francis and the ladies," he said, setting 
 the box down at the feet of Rosetta. 
 
 " Oh, no, it can't be for me," cried Rosetta. 
 
 Yet, sure enough, there was her own 
 pretty name printed on the cover. 
 
 " Get me a hammer," said Timothy, good- 
 naturedly, " and I will soon open it for you, 
 for I'll warrant there is something nice for 
 such a good little girl as you." 
 
 Rosetta quickly got the hammer, though 
 she blushed and trembled so with joy and 
 expectation that she could hardly stand, and 
 Alice, out of curiosity, got up from her 
 seat and came near. 
 
 " Oh, stop, please do," said Rosetta to the 
 man ; " won't you be so good as to put the 
 box close to mother, so she can see what is 
 in it, as well as we ! " 
 
 " Ay, that I will, my little lady," answered 
 Timothy; and lifting the box, he carried 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 115 
 
 it into the cottage, and set it down by the 
 chair of Mrs. White, who was still too lame 
 to walk about. 
 
 The cover was soon knocked off, when 
 two or three quite large bundles were seen, 
 very neatly done up. The first contained a 
 good calico dress for Mrs. White, and a nice 
 warm shawl. In the second, was a pretty 
 blue and white gingham, for Rosetta herself, 
 a pair of black morocco shoes, to wear to 
 meeting, and a nice little blue silk shawl. 
 In the other bundle was a complete suit of 
 clothes for little Charley, at sight of which 
 Rosetta really danced for joy. After these 
 bundles were taken out, — what do you think 
 was at the bottom, — why, a beautiful little 
 work-box ! 
 
 On the lid was painted a wreath of roses, 
 and in the centre was printed, in letters of 
 gold: 
 
116 THE LITTLE 
 
 A Reward for Industry. 
 
 When the little key was turned, and this 
 pretty box opened, there was a thimble, and 
 a needle-book filled with needles, some spools 
 of thread, an emery, a pair of scissors, a 
 bodkin, and a set of nice knitting-kneedles. 
 
 But what was that shining so at the bottom 
 of this pretty work-box ! A little steel purse, 
 with Rosetta's name engraven upon the clasp, 
 and in it were three bright half-dollars ! 
 
 But there was nothing, — no, nothing for 
 idle Alice ! 
 
 How sweetly the silver bells chimed, when 
 the name of little Rosetta was borne in by 
 the pretty birds ; but the old raven lifted 
 his wings, croaking, " Alice White ! — Alice 
 White!" and flew slowly off to the Dark 
 Room. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 11.7 
 
 THE LITTLE CHINESE BOY, 
 
 Now, I am going to tell you about a little 
 Chinese boy. 
 
 His name was Atung. He had no mother. 
 She had been dead a good many years, and 
 he ? lived all alone with his old father, in a 
 poor little hut, standing among some green 
 palm-trees, near one of the Chinese villages 
 in Macoa, which is in China, about eighty 
 miles from the great city of Canton. 
 
 I dare say you have seen some of the very 
 curious things which are brought from 
 there. 
 
 Atung was a good boy, and a pretty boy. 
 
118 THE LITTLE 
 
 He wore blue nankeen trowsers, and a sort 
 of jacket, which came down almost to his 
 knees, and round his ankles were little nar- 
 row strips of tin. The children of the rich 
 mandarins wear silver anklets, but the father 
 of Atung was so poor, he could only buy his 
 son tin ones. His hair was just as black as 
 jet, and he had it platted in a long braid, and 
 hanging down his back. 
 
 He would have seemed a very oddly- 
 dressed little boy to you ; but think as you 
 would, I am certain, if Atung could have 
 seen you, he would have thought your dress 
 even more odd. " Heigh-yah ! " what queer 
 fashion have that child ! " he would have 
 said, perhaps. 
 
 His father was very poor, and very old, — 
 so old that he could scarcely pull the rice 
 which grew in a small spot of ground back 
 of the little hut, — and so the old man was 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 119 
 
 obliged to sit most all of the day, and smoke 
 his long pipe. 
 
 Little Atung did not mean his father 
 should suffer, and was very dutiful and kind 
 to him. He gathered oysters off the rocks 
 near the sea, and picked up delicate muscles 
 for his old father to eat ; and, once or twice 
 a day he would take a great earthen jar upon 
 his shoulder, and go off to the fountains 
 among the hills of Macoa, and fill it with 
 sweet fresh water, that his father might 
 drink. He also cooked their rice and fish 
 over a little pan of charcoal, at the door of 
 the hut, which he managed to keep very tidy. 
 
 But, by-and-by, the old man was taken 
 very sick, and pined, and pined away, until, 
 at length, he died, — and poor little Atung 
 was left all alone with the dead body of his 
 father, in that small hut, by the green palm- 
 trees. 
 
120 THE LITTLE 
 
 Poor little fellow, — he had no friend but 
 God! 
 
 And yet, he had never heard of the great 
 God of Heaven ! He had been taught to 
 bow down before images of wood and of 
 stone. But God loved Mm, poor little 
 ignorant boy as he was. You know the 
 Bible tells you that not a sparrow falls to the 
 ground, without the knowledge of our 
 Heavenly Father : he loves all his chil- 
 dren, and now raised up friends for this 
 forlorn little boy. 
 
 It chanced that one day some foreign 
 gentlemen and ladies, — which means that 
 they were not born in China, but came from 
 America, from England, or from France, 
 perhaps, — were walking near the paddy- 
 fields, where the Chinese cultivate their rice, 
 when suddenly they heard low sobs and 
 cries, as of some one in pain or in grief, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 121 
 
 proceeding from a little thicket, near by. So 
 they approached it as fast as they could, and 
 there, sitting on the ground, with his head 
 leaning against the body of a palm-tree, was 
 poor little Atung. 
 
 He was very pale ; his eyes were sunken, 
 and his form wasted. One of the gentle- 
 men, who could speak the Chinese language, 
 went up to the little boy, and kindly taking 
 his hand, asked the cause of his distress. 
 Atung was so weak that he could hardly 
 speak, but, at last, he told them that he was 
 nearly starved ! — that for three days he had 
 not touched a morsel of food ; for his poor 
 father had no coffin, or place of burial, and 
 that he had sacredly saved the few fish he 
 had taken, and even every grain of rice, 
 that he might sell them, and thus be able to 
 honor the remains of his poor old father ! 
 
 The party were all moved by such a 
 11 
 
122 THE LITTLE 
 
 beautiful trait of filial love. The same after- 
 noon, a coffin was prepared, and the body of 
 the old man given to the earth. 
 
 One of the gentlemen took the poor for- 
 lorn boy home with him to his own house, 
 which stood fronting the great ocean, in one 
 of the finest streets in Macoa. He soon 
 became very fond of the Chinese boy, who 
 showed himself grateful in many ways for the 
 kindness he received. In a few weeks, when 
 Atung was perfectly strong again, the same 
 gentleman placed him at a school taught by 
 some benevolent missionaries, w T here he 
 might learn about our Great Father in 
 heaven, and his son, Jesus Christ. 
 
 Perhaps, some day this poor little Atung 
 may be the means of converting many of 
 his own countrymen to know the only true 
 God! 
 
 Do you not think the little Chinese boy 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 123 
 
 was rewarded for his love and duty to his old 
 father ? So will all children be, who remem- 
 ber and keep the commandment : 
 
 " Honor thy Father, and thy Mother ." 
 
124 THE LITTLE 
 
 PRETTY MARY FAIRLIE. 
 
 Oh, pretty Mary Fairlie, 
 
 She liveth by the mill ; 
 And let the day be sad, or gay, 
 
 She's always happy still ; 
 And singeth, ever singeth, 
 
 Like a lark upon the wing, 
 Or like the pretty robin, 
 
 We hear in early spring. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Oh, pretty Mary Fairlie, 
 Her father's gone to sea, — 
 
 Her mother she is very poor, 
 And left with children three. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 125 
 
 There's little black ey'd Jessie, 
 
 And little Willie fair, 
 And pretty Mary Fairlie, 
 
 With her soft and golden hair. 
 
 in. 
 
 And eyes that look like robin's eggs, 
 
 They are so deeply blue, 
 And smiles around her pretty lips, 
 
 Like cherries wet with dew. 
 Oh, pretty Mary Fairlie, 
 
 She is a happy thing, 
 And singeth, ever singeth, 
 
 Like a lark upon the wing. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And as they pass the cottage door, 
 
 Or meet her on the hill, 
 All cry, " God bless the pretty girl 
 
 Who liveth by the mill ! " 
 For she toileth for her mother, 
 
 And for Will and Jessie dear, 
 
 n* 
 
126 THE LITTLE 
 
 While the music as of silver bells 
 Is ringing in her ear. 
 
 v. 
 
 She taketh out her knitting work, 
 
 And sits beneath the tree, 
 And as her fingers swiftly move, 
 
 She singeth merrily. 
 With little Willie at her side, 
 
 And Jessie dancing round, 
 And frisking as a little lamb, 
 
 Her white feet pat the ground. 
 
 VI. 
 
 She knitteth little garters, 
 
 And tippets red and green, 
 With mittens, too, of many hues, 
 
 The prettiest ever seen ; 
 Then up into the village 
 
 That standeth on the hill, 
 Goes pretty Mary Fairlie 
 
 Who liveth by the mill. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 127 
 
 VII. 
 
 Her little Indian basket, 
 
 It swingeth on her arm j 
 Her cheeks are red as roses, 
 
 And her breath as sweet as balm. 
 The ladies buy her pretty work, 
 
 And praise her for her skill, 
 Oh, a happy, happy little girl, 
 
 Is Mary of the mill ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For it is her own small fingers 
 
 Hath gained the goodly prize, 
 Of shillings, dimes, and sixpennies, 
 
 Which in her basket lies. 
 Her little feet, so fleetly, 
 
 Now trip it down the hill, 
 For she bringeth joy and gladness 
 
 To the dear ones at the mill. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then bless sweet Mary Fairlie 
 Who liveth by the mill, 
 
128 THE LITTLE 
 
 For let the day be sad, or gay, 
 She's always happy still; 
 
 And singeth, ever singeth, 
 Like the lark upon the wing, 
 
 Or like the pretty robin, 
 We hear in early spring. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 129 
 
 BERTRAM AND THEODORE, 
 
 Mr. Sinclair had two sons ; their names 
 were Bertram and Theodore. 
 
 Bertram possessed a very cruel disposition, 
 and was also very selfish. He cared for 
 nobody but himself, and his own pleasures 
 He had a pretty little dog, named Fido, but 
 he used to beat him, and throw him into the 
 pond ; tie his head and fore-paws together, 
 and while the poor puppy was yelping with 
 pain, Bertram would laugh, and jump about 
 with cruel joy. He would stone the fowls 
 in the hen-house, beat the cows in the barn- 
 yard, rob bird's-nests, and torture any poor 
 
IdU THE LITTLE 
 
 little birds he could entrap. Indeed, he was 
 very cruel. 
 
 What a misfortune to possess such a 
 disposition ; and if any of my dear young 
 readers have the least delight in tormenting 
 poor dumb creatures, let me beg they will 
 correct such a wicked habit. There is no 
 surer proof of a bad heart, than cruelty to 
 dumb animals, and when you see a boy 
 taking delight in their sufferings, you may 
 be certain that he is a bad boy, without any 
 sincere love to God or to his parents. 
 
 Theodore was not at all like his brother. 
 He was as kind and obliging, as Bertram was 
 cruel and selfish. 
 
 Often he would beg his brother to release 
 some poor object he was tormenting, and 
 would sometimes try to get them away from 
 his hands ; but Bertram was much stronger 
 than Theodore, and would revenge himself 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 131 
 
 by falling upon him, and beating him, — very- 
 sure, from Theodore's goodness of heart, 
 that he would not tell their parents. 
 
 Whenever their father gave them spend- 
 ing-money, Bertram would lay all his out 
 for cakes and oranges, or candies ; and instead 
 of sharing them with his brother, or play- 
 mates, he would walk slyly off into some 
 retired place, or go up into his own room, and 
 devour them all himself. But when The- 
 odore had any thing nice, he would call his 
 companions around him, and generously 
 divide with them, retaining the smallest part 
 for himself. 
 
 So Theodore was as much beloved, as 
 Bertram was despised. 
 
 One day, Mr. Sinclair received a letter 
 from his brother, a sea captain, who had 
 just returned from a long voyage to the East 
 Indies. In this letter was enclosed two five- 
 
132 THE LITTLE 
 
 dollar bills, — one for Bertram, and one for 
 Theodore. Their uncle wished this money 
 to be given to the boys, and to let each of 
 them spend it as they pleased, but requested 
 Mr. Sinclair to let him know exactly in what 
 manner it was spent. 
 
 The boys had never been possessed of so 
 large a sum before, and of course were made 
 very happy by the generous present of their 
 uncle. 
 
 " Well, Theo', what will you do with your 
 five dollars?" asked Bertram, — "I know what 
 I shall do with mine ! " 
 
 " I shall ask father to take care of it for 
 me," replied Theodore ; " we have always 
 enough of spending- money, you know, — 
 perhaps he will place it in the savings-bank." 
 
 " Pooh, you stingy fellow ! " answered Ber- 
 tram. "The savings-ba?ik, — you little miser! 
 I can tell you I mean to have the good of 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 133 
 
 my money, — what is the use of putting it 
 away, — no, no, — I shall buy me a new cross 
 bow, and a gun, and some powder and shot, 
 to kill birds, — yes, — - I'll find a use for my 
 five dollars, — I mean to have a good time, 
 for once ! " 
 
 After tea, as they were walking in the 
 garden, Mr. Sinclair joined them : 
 
 " Well, boys," he said, " have you made up 
 your minds yet, how to spend your money ? " 
 
 " Here is mine," answered Theodore, " and 
 if you please, father, I wish you would keep 
 it for me, or if you think better, put it in the 
 savings-bank." 
 
 "A very good resolution, Theodore, — 
 where is yours, Bertram ? " said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 Bertram felt rather ashamed, and could 
 hardly raise his eyes to his father's face, as 
 he answered : 
 
 " Well, father, I should like to spend mine, 
 12 
 
134 THE LITTLE 
 
 and have the good of it, — I don't see the 
 use of hoarding it away, as Theodore wants 
 to, — if you please, sir, I had rather buy me 
 a few little things." 
 
 " Very well, boys, — your uncle has desired 
 that you may both do as you please with his 
 present ; therefore, I shall not use any 
 authority. I must say, however, that while I 
 highly approve of Theodore's course, I am 
 not at all satisfied with yours, Bertram. I 
 am sorry to find you place so little value upon 
 money, as to be willing to waste five dollars, 
 either in useless toys, or sweetmeats. But 
 do as you please." 
 
 That same night, about twelve o'clock, the 
 neighborhood was alarmed with the dreadful 
 cry of " Fire, — fire ! " 
 
 Mr. Sinclair and the boys sprang from 
 their beds, and ran to the window. It proved 
 to be the house of a poor Irish laborer, who 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 135 
 
 lived about half a mile from them. Great 
 clouds of smoke hung in the air, in which it 
 seemed as if a thousand sky-rockets were 
 playing, and then columns of bright flames 
 would suddenly dart up into the air. The 
 trees appeared to be all on fire, and the poor 
 little frightened birds flew round and round 
 the flames, as you have seen a miller fly 
 around the lamp ; and many of them, over- 
 come by the smoke, and terror, fell helpless 
 into the burning ruins. 
 
 In a very little time, the house of Patrick 
 O'RafFerty was burned to the ground, and 
 himself and his wife, and three helpless 
 children, became houseless and homeless. 
 O'Rafferty was an honest, industrious, and 
 hard-working man ; but his wife, poor 
 woman, was very sickly, and could not earn 
 much to help support their children, — three 
 little girls, — the oldest of whom was lame, 
 
136 THE LITTLE 
 
 and only seven years old. What was a still 
 greater loss to them, all their small stock of 
 furniture and clothing, their cow and their 
 pig were also burned, for so quickly had the 
 fire spread to the out-house, that it was found 
 impossible to save the poor animals. 
 
 When Theodore learned the great distress 
 of this unfortunate family, his heart was very 
 sad. He went to his father, and said : 
 
 "Are you willing I should give my five 
 dollars to help poor Patrick O'Rafferty?" 
 
 " Am I willing ? — yes, my dear child, — it 
 is a noble wish," said Mr. Sinclair, embracing 
 his son, " here is the money, carry it to your 
 mother, and ask her to buy clothing for this 
 destitute family." 
 
 Theodore was a happy lad, as he placed 
 the five dollars in his mother's hand. 
 
 " Ah," thought he, " what pleasure in doing 
 good ! " 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 137 
 
 " You foolish fellow," cried Bertram, " to 
 give away your money ! I wonder what 
 uncle will say ! " 
 
 " I hope he will think I have done right," said 
 Theodore. " Come, Bertram, I am sure, if 
 you give only half of your five dollars to 
 poor Patrick, you will never be sorry." 
 
 " I! — I give my money to an Irishman, — 
 no, indeed, I am not so green ! Let him 
 work and earn it, — he was made for it," 
 replied Bertram, rudely. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair raised a subscription for the 
 family of O'Rafferty, and in a few days, they 
 were comfortably fixed in a little cottage, not 
 far from the spot where the other one had stood. 
 
 Ah, how merrily the silver bells echoed in 
 Theodore's heart, when, the next Sabbath- 
 day, Patrick and his wife were able to go to 
 meeting dressed in the clothes which his 
 own five dollars had paid for. 
 12* 
 
138 THE LITTLE 
 
 Which of you would not rather possess 
 the feelings of the generous Theodore, than 
 the selfish heart of Bertram, who had 
 already spent the whole of his money upon 
 — himself I 
 
 Mr. Sinclair had often warned Bertram 
 againt the use of guns and pistols, and had, 
 indeed, forbidden him to touch them. But 
 Bertram, like some other boys, who think 
 they know as much as their father, laughed 
 at the idea of not being able to fire a gun, 
 without danger. He had long wanted to 
 possess one, and when he received his 
 uncle's present, he was determined to buy 
 one. He told Theodore so, and Theodore, 
 knowing how angry his father would be, 
 begged of him not to do so, and told him he 
 should feel it his duty to inform his father 
 if he did. 
 
 " Oh, you tell-tale ! " cried Bertram, slap- 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 139 
 
 ping his brother in the face. But he was 
 afraid his father might find it out, so he said 
 no more to Theodore, but bought the gun 
 secretly, and gave it to another boy to keep 
 for him. 
 
 A few days after this, Mr. Sinclair was 
 called from home, on business which might 
 detain him all the forenoon, and what was 
 still better for Bertram's plan, he took The- 
 odore in the gig w T ith him. 
 
 " Now," said Bertram, " I shall have a first- 
 rate time ! " 
 
 So down he went to Bill Jenkins's, who 
 kept the gun, and proposed going into the 
 woods, and having some sport. Then he 
 loaded the gun, and swung it over his 
 shoulder, and Bill, taking a bag of powder 
 and shot, off they started. 
 
 " There's a fine fat fellow, Bill," cried Ber- 
 tram, pointing to a pretty robin-red-breast, 
 
140 THE LITTLE 
 
 swinging too and fro upon a green branch, 
 and calling in sweet tones to his mate, sitting 
 on her nest, close by, — " what will you bet 
 I don't hit him ? " 
 
 He took aim at the innocent bird, and 
 fired ! But, alas, in his ignorance, he had 
 overcharged the gun, and it burst, dreadfully 
 wounding him in the face, and tearing off 
 one of his thumbs. 
 
 He was completely stunned, and fell sense- 
 less to the ground, while Bill, screaming 
 with terror, ran further into the woods, and 
 hid himself behind a tree. 
 
 It happened that Patrick O'Rafferty was 
 chopping wood near the spot where the boys 
 were. He heard the report and the scream, 
 and thinking some mischief must have been 
 done, ran as fast as he could to the spot. 
 There lay Bertram Sinclair, covered with 
 blood, and the splinters of the shattered gun 
 
J&f 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 141 
 
 all scattered about the underbrush. The 
 honest fellow was very much frightened, 
 when he saw the son of his kind benefactor 
 in such a sad condition. 
 
 " Och, shure, and it's kilt he is entirely, 
 the poor boy ! " he exclaimed, stooping down 
 over the body. 
 
 He then ran to a little brook, and brought 
 some water in his hat, which he sprinkled in 
 the face, and also poured some down the throat 
 of the senseless boy. But still Bertram gave 
 no signs of life. Lifting him carefully in 
 his arms, Patrick now bore him as swiftly as 
 he could to his own cottage, which was near 
 by, and laid him down on the bed ; and then 
 ran with all speed to call Mr. Sinclair and a 
 doctor. 
 
 While her husband was gone, Mrs. O'Raf- 
 ferty tried every way to bring Bertram to 
 his senses. She bound up the wounded 
 
142 THE LITTLE 
 
 hand, chafed his temples, and washed the 
 blood from his face ; but it was not until after 
 the return of Patrick, with the doctor, that 
 the unhappy boy showed any signs of life. 
 When, at length, he opened his eyes, the first 
 person they rested upon was the Irishman he 
 had so despised, — he turned them away, — 
 but there stood the woman, whose wants he 
 had so selfishly denied, bending over him as 
 tenderly as a mother. 
 
 Poor Bertram suffered very much, — one 
 of his eyes was hurt badly, but the doctor 
 said he would not lose the sight. 
 
 How bitterly did he repent, as he lay 
 groaning on the bed, the sin of disobedience, 
 — how sorry that he had not followed the 
 example of his brother ! 
 
 In about an hour, his father and Theodore 
 arrived, in great distress at the sad accident. 
 The doctor said he must not be moved for 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 143 
 
 twenty-four hours, as it would be very 
 dangerous, — so Mr. Sinclair sat down by the 
 bedside of Bertram, while Theodore went 
 home to tell his poor mother, who was too sick 
 herself to go to her suffering son. During all 
 the time that Bertram was obliged to stay at 
 the cottage, the good wife of O'Rafferty 
 waited upon him very kindly, and did all she 
 could to make him comfortable, — never even 
 lying down to get a moment's sleep herself, 
 while he was there, although she was so 
 feeble. 
 
 The next day after Bertram was able to be 
 carried home, he was taken with a very bad 
 fever, which the doctor said was partly owing 
 to the great quantity of sugar-plums, and 
 other sweet things which he had so selfishly 
 ate, all by himself. For many days, they 
 thought Bertram would die. But God, with 
 mercy, saved his life ; and from a bed of pain 
 
144 THE LITTLE 
 
 he arose with a resolution to be a better boy. 
 He had had time to think, as he lay upon his 
 sick bed, watched over so carefully by his 
 parents and brother, how wicked, how selfish, 
 how cruel, and disobedient his life had been, 
 and he truthfully meant now to do better 
 than he had ever yet done. 
 
 Now, when children resolve in earnest 
 that they will be good, they are always sure 
 to succeed. 
 
 To be sure, it took a long while for Ber- 
 tram to break up all his bad habits, but he 
 succeeded, at last, and so well, that when the 
 little messenger birds one morning flew over 
 Sinclair Farm, they perched themselves upon 
 the branches of the great elm-tree under 
 Bertram's window, and sang beautiful little 
 songs of praise and gladness ; then they 
 sailed round and round, chirping merrily for 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 145 
 
 great joy, to know they were to carry such 
 good tidings to their master. 
 
 When Theodore's kind uncle heard to 
 what a good use he had put his five dollars, 
 he sent him a present of a handsome Bible, 
 and a beautiful set of Audubon's History of 
 Birds, with colored drawings ; and Theodore 
 was indeed very happy to receive such a 
 token of love from his uncle. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair wrote to his brother, also, of 
 the very foolish manner in which Bertram 
 spent his money, and its sad consequences ; 
 but informed him, at the same time, of his 
 contrition, and wish to become a better boy. 
 
 Then the old gentleman again sent him 
 five dollars, to learn whether his desire to be 
 good, was indeed real, requesting Mr. Sinclair 
 to let Bertram do just what he pleased with 
 it. 
 
 13 
 
146 THE LITTLE 
 
 " Father," said Bertram, " I wish little Judy 
 and Kate O'Rafferty could go to school ! — 
 here is my five dollars, sir, will you please to 
 pay for a quarter's schooling." 
 
 " That I will, my dear son," said Mr. 
 Sinclair ; " and I am glad to find you are 
 grateful for the kindness you received from 
 the worthy family of Patrick O'Rafferty." 
 
 Bertram had never felt so happy, as when, 
 in a few days after this conversation, he met 
 little Judy and Kate, cleanly dressed, going 
 to school, and the little silver bells rang out 
 so cherrily, that he almost danced for joy. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 147 
 
 THE LOCKET, 
 
 One day, a carriage drove up to the door 
 of Mrs. Clinton's boarding-school. A gen- 
 tleman alighted from it, and handed out a 
 little girl, who looked to be about seven years 
 old. They were shown into the parlor, and 
 Mrs. Clinton went down to receive them. 
 
 The gentleman was from the West Indies, 
 and his name was Demarest. He had brought 
 his little girl, who was his only child, and 
 who had just lost her mother, to be educated 
 in the United States. He had heard the school 
 of Mrs. Clinton very highly spoken of, and 
 came to place little Marcella under her care. 
 
148 THE LITTLE 
 
 She was a timid child, and wept very 
 much when her father bade her good-by, for 
 she was not to see him again for five long years, 
 when he had promised he would come and 
 take her back to the island of St. Thomas. 
 
 Little Marcella had no beauty, except a 
 pair of large black eyes, but she scarcely ever 
 lifted their drooping lids, she was so bashful, 
 or so frightened. Her features were not pretty, 
 and, besides, she had a very dark skin, almost 
 as dark as a mulatto, and her hair was just as 
 black and shining as jet. She very seldom 
 smiled, but was more often found hid awav in 
 some corner, crying as if her heart would break. 
 
 Poor little Marcella, — she was like a 
 caged bird, torn from the beautiful orange 
 groves of her native isle ! 
 
 Mrs. Clinton w^as very kind to the forlorn 
 little one, and often tallied with her pupils 
 about her, and entreated them to be very 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 149 
 
 gentle and kind to her. But some of the 
 little girls were so cruel as to treat her badly 
 They would laugh at her for her dark skin, 
 and call her a little Creole girl, or a little 
 darkey, which made poor Marcella still more 
 unhappy, — besides, she had never been at 
 school before, — and so these foolish children 
 became vain, because they knew a little more 
 than she did. 
 
 All of the little girls, however, were not so 
 cruel and unfeeling; but as there did not 
 seem to be any thing very pleasing to them 
 in the little stranger so shy and timid, they 
 did not take much pains to amuse her or 
 make her happy. 
 
 Bertha Howard was one of the oldest girls 
 in school, and had just reached her twelfth 
 year, when Mr. Demarest brought Marcella 
 to Mrs. Clinton's. Bertha was a very lovely 
 girl, — not alone for her sweet face and 
 13* 
 
150 THE LITTLE 
 
 graceful figure, but because she was so 
 gentle and kind in her disposition, — this it 
 was which gained her the love of her teach- 
 ers and young school-mates. 
 
 As soon as Bertha saw little Marcella, she 
 could not help loving her. She pitied her, 
 because she was alone, among strangers ; 
 she pitied her, because she had lost her dear 
 mamma by death ; and she pitied her, because 
 she saw she was unhappy. She was, there- 
 fore, very kind to her, and tried, in a great 
 many ways, to amuse her. She gave her 
 pretty play-things, which she bought with 
 her own pocket-money ; she taught her how 
 to play at many little games, and was of great 
 assistance to her in learning the lessons 
 which the little girl thought so hard; and 
 even gained the consent of Mrs. Clinton, that 
 Marcella should sleep in the same room with 
 her, and her little bed was placed close along 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 151 
 
 side of Bertha's. Such kindness soon 
 won the love and confidence of Marcella. 
 Her shyness began to wear off, and she 
 would now and then join in the sports of the 
 other children ; and, such is the force of good 
 example, that, seeing their favorite, Bertha 
 Howard, so good to the little Marcella, the 
 others began also to treat her with more 
 kindness. 
 
 Arabella Carson was nearly the same age 
 as Bertha, but not at all like her in character 
 or manners. She was proud, because her 
 father was a rich man, and rode in his own 
 carriage ; she was vain, because her skin was 
 as white as a lilv, and that her dresses were 
 finer than any of her school-mates ; and she 
 was jealous, because Bertha Howard was 
 better loved than she was ! That spoiled all 
 her happiness ! She almost hated Bertha, — 
 dreadful as it seems to say so, — and when 
 
152 THE LITTLE 
 
 she heard her praised, no silver bells chimed 
 sweetly in her breast, — ah, no, — all there 
 was discord ! 
 
 She also greatly disliked little Marcella, 
 and for the very reason that she was an 
 object of so much tenderness to Bertha. 
 She would have given almost any thing to 
 win the love of her shool-mates away from 
 Bertha ; and she endeavored, by making 
 them handsome presents, (for her father 
 allowed her a large sum for her pocket- 
 money,) and by feeding them with all kinds 
 of sweet things, to gain a power over their 
 affections. But love is not so cheaply 
 bought. Many of the girls, to be sure, 
 looked up to her, and would not for the 
 world offend the proud girl, — yet their love 
 was given to Bertha unasked. 
 
 To encourage her scholars in cultivating 
 habits of kindness and good will one to 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 153 
 
 another, Mrs. Clinton this year told them 
 that at the close of the term she would 
 present to the one who should receive from 
 her school-mates the greatest number of 
 votes for a uniform mildness of temper and 
 obliging manners, a gold locket, which snould 
 contain a lock of her own hair. Mrs. Clinton 
 was much beloved by all her pupils, and the 
 prize she offered them in a lock of her hair, 
 was what they all wished to possess. Yet 
 they all agreed that Bertha Howard deserved 
 it more than any one, for she had ever been 
 kind and obliging to them all. This Arabella 
 knew and feared, and she was resolved to win 
 the locket, — not for the sake of the hair it 
 contained, nor for the practice of those 
 virtues which it was meant to reward, — but 
 because she hated Bertha, and wished to rob 
 her of the prize ! 
 
 To do this, Arabella was obliged to alter 
 
154 THE LITTLE 
 
 her whole course of conduct. Had she 
 done this from a good motive, how much she 
 would deserve our praise ! — but it was to gain 
 a selfish, bad end, and therefore we can only 
 pity her. 
 
 Mrs. Clinton was surprised and pleased 
 with the alteration in Arabella's behavior in 
 the school-room, while out of school, the 
 scholars could hardly believe that the young 
 girl, who now joined so freely in their play, 
 and was so obliging in every thing, could be 
 the proud, haughty Arabella Carson. For 
 little Marcella she suddenly began to show 
 the greatest love. She would take her in her 
 lap and kiss her, and call her by every fond 
 pet name. She gave her pretty toys, took 
 her to walk, and talked with her all about the 
 pretty things, the flowers and the birds 
 she should see, when she went home with 
 her to her father's beautiful country seat, on 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 155 
 
 the banks of the East River. Little Marcella 
 was very grateful for all this kindness, and 
 began to look upon her new friend Arabella, 
 with her soft blue eyes, and long curling 
 flaxen ringlets, as some beautiful angel. 
 
 At the end of a few weeks the locket was 
 no longer said to be Bertha Howard's. The 
 girls were divided in their opinion. Some 
 said Bertha deserved it the most, — some 
 said Arabella. Bertha felt very happy to 
 resign it to Arabella, because she thought she 
 merited it for overcoming so many bad habits. 
 She was artless herself, and had no idea that 
 Arabella was not as sincere as she seemed to 
 be. 
 
 At last the morning arrived when the 
 locket was to become the prize of the most 
 deserving. 
 
 Mrs. Clinton walked into the school-room 
 and took her seat, while her pupils arranged 
 
156 THE LITTLE 
 
 themselves in their usual places. On the 
 desk, before Mrs. Clinton, was a small box, 
 in which the girls were told to deposit their 
 votes, written on a piece of paper, neatly 
 folded and sealed. 
 
 One by one, each child approached the 
 desk, and placed her vote in the box. When 
 it was little Marcella's turn, she looked up 
 timidly, and seemed afraid to go all by 
 herself across the school-room, so Bertha, 
 kissing her, took her hand and led her for- 
 ward. The child hung back, — her cheek 
 was pale, nor once did she lift her eyes, as 
 she dropped her little slip of paper into the 
 box. 
 
 When all the votes were deposited, Mrs. 
 Clinton counted them. 
 
 The locket was awarded to Arabella 
 Carson ! 
 
 Then, Mrs. Clinton arose, and placed it 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 157 
 
 herself around the neck of the blushing 
 Arabella, — blushing, but not with humility 
 or modesty ! Bertha also crossed the room, 
 and affectionately kissing her, said, what was 
 true, that it gave her even more pleasure that 
 Arabella had gained the locket, than if she 
 had won it herself. 
 
 While all the girls were thus standing 
 around Arabella, and congratulating her upon 
 possessing a lock of their beloved teacher's 
 hair, set in such a beautiful locket, little Mar- 
 cella suddenly burst into tears, sobbing so vio- 
 lently as to call the attention of Mrs. Clinton 
 and the scholars. Mrs. Clinton immediately 
 went to her, and asked her to tell why she 
 cried so, — if she was sick, or hurt. But the 
 little girl would not say a word, only : 
 " I have been very bad, oh, very bad ! " 
 At length, Mrs. Clinton, taking her hand, 
 led her from the room. 
 14 
 
158 THE LITTLE 
 
 In the mean time, Arabella sat rejoicing in 
 her success. The locket was her's, and not 
 Bertha Howard's ! — and already forgetting 
 that it was by gentle manners she won it, she 
 began to assume great airs, looking with 
 triumph upon Bertha. 
 
 At length, the school-room door opened, 
 and Mrs. Clinton returned, leading by the 
 hand little Marcella, no longer weeping, but 
 looking very sad and sorrowful. The coun- 
 tenance of Mrs. Clinton was serious, even to 
 sternness, as with great dignity she walked 
 across the room, and took her seat. For a 
 few moments she remained silent at her 
 desk ; then casting her eyes slowly around 
 upon the scholars, she fixed them with a 
 severe gaze upon Arabella. 
 
 "Children," said she, "it is my painful 
 duty to tell you, that there has been deception 
 practised in the school ! " 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 159 
 
 She paused, — the children looked at one 
 another in astonishment, while the face and 
 neck of Arabella became instantly of a deep 
 crimson, — although she tried to look boldly 
 around, as if she knew nothing at all about 
 the matter. 
 
 " Miss Arabella Carson," continued Mrs. 
 Clinton, sternly, "I accuse you of having 
 gained the locket you so unworthily wear 
 upon your neck, unjustly, — by bribery and 
 fraud! Yes, children, little Marcella here, 
 overcome by repentance, has confessed that, 
 under the promise of a beautiful waxen doll, 
 and other toys, she was tempted by Miss 
 Carson to give a vote in her favor. But 
 when the child looked again upon Bertha 
 Howard, — who as you all know, has ever 
 been so affectionate and kind to her, — and 
 saw the locket given to Arabella, her grief 
 and shame was such that she could no longer 
 
160 THE LITTLE 
 
 keep from weeping aloud. Shame upon such 
 baseness. Miss Carson ! If there are any 
 other children present, who have been 
 tempted as Marcella was, let them follow her 
 example, and confess their error." 
 
 Four little girls, pale and weeping, and 
 hiding their faces with their hands, slowly 
 walked up to the platform. 
 
 " All of you speak the truth," said Mrs. 
 Clinton, looking around the school-room. " I 
 demand of you, children, if Bertha Howard 
 has ever asked you to vote for her ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, — no, — no ! " echoed from side 
 to side. 
 
 " She has always tried to have us love 
 Arabella, and hoped we would give her our 
 votes," said one of the older girls. 
 
 Now, my dear little readers, how can I 
 describe to you the mortification of Arabella 
 Carson ! But a few moments before, she was 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 161 
 
 exulting in her pride, — in her triumph over 
 the excellent Bertha, — and now, humbled 
 and ashamed, she dared not raise her eyes 
 from the floor ! 
 
 " Take the locket, Miss Carson," said Mrs. 
 Clinton, " and give it to its rightful possessor." 
 
 Arabella arose, and trembling with grief 
 and shame, placed it in the hands of Bertha. 
 
 " Not to me, dear madam, must belong this 
 valuable gift," cried Bertha, rising and 
 approaching Mrs. Clinton, — "allow me to 
 put it on the neck of little Marcella, because 
 she had the firmness to declare the truth, 
 although to her own shame, and the loss of 
 her doll." 
 
 Mrs. Clinton and the children applauded 
 her generous act, and while the silver bells 
 kept up their pleasing music in the heart of 
 Bertha, Arabella fell on her knees before 
 Mrs. Clinton, and begged to be forgiven. 
 14* 
 
162 THE LITTLE 
 
 
 The name of little Marcella was caught 
 up by the messenger birds, and no doubt 
 Santa Claus will reward her with a wax doll 
 from his own beautiful collection, much 
 larger and finer than any Arabella could 
 have purchased. 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 163 
 
 LITTLE BELINDA 
 
 Under the shade of a sycamore tree, 
 By the side of a gurgling brook, 
 Thus merrily sang the children set free 
 For a time from slate, pen, and hook : 
 Sing, — sing, sing ! 
 Oh, merry and glad let us be ; 
 
 Sing, — sing, .sing ! 
 Like little birds up in the tree. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Then out of her window looks Mistress Jane, 
 
 And sees her dear scholars so gay ; 
 She smiles, for she knows how good they have been, 
 
 And learned their lessons to-day. 
 
164 THE LITTLE 
 
 Skip, — skip, skip ! 
 Oh, let us be merry, and gay ; 
 
 Skip, — skip, skip ! , 
 Like lambs in the meadow, at play. 
 
 HI. 
 
 First, little Laura, with eyes of deep blue, 
 
 Who loves in the primer to look, 
 And Stephen, and Frank, and Caroline, too. 
 Who all take delight in a book : 
 Sing, — sing, sing ! 
 Oh, merry and glad let us be ; 
 
 Sing,— sing, sing! 
 Like little birds up in the tree. 
 
 IT. 
 
 One little girl by herself sits alone, 
 
 Nor joins her companions at play 
 'Tis little Belinda, who idle has grown, 
 Nor heeds what her teacher can say ! 
 Skip, — skip, skip! 
 Oh, let us be merry and gay ; 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 165 
 
 Skip, — skip, skip! 
 Like lambs in the meadow, at play. 
 
 v. 
 
 She sits all alone, her heart very sad, 
 
 She cannot feel happy to-day ; 
 " To-morrow," she says, " I'll not be so bad, 
 Then I can be happy and gay ! " 
 Sing, — sing, sing! 
 Oh, merry and glad let us be ; 
 
 Sing, — sing, sing ! 
 Like little birds up in the tree. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " If Laura and Frank had played with their book, 
 
 They could not skip under the tree . 
 Nor could they now dance by the sparkling brook, 
 Or feel themselves happy and free ! " 
 Skip, — skip, skip I 
 Oh, let us be merry and gay ; 
 
 Skip, — skip, skip ! 
 Like lambs in the meadow, at play. 
 
166 THE LITTLE 
 
 VII. 
 
 " I will go to my teacher, and say, dear Miss Jane, 
 
 Ah, please to forgive me to-day ; 
 I never will be so naughty again, 
 
 Or leave off my book for my play ! " 
 Sing, — sing, sing ! 
 Oh, merry and glad let us be ; 
 
 Sing, — sing, sing ! 
 Like little birds up in the tree. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A beautiful bird flew over her head, 
 " Belinda ! Belinda ! " he sang ; 
 For he heard, as he flew, what the little girl said, 
 While sweetly the silver bells rang : 
 Ding, — dong, ding ! 
 Oh, merry and glad let us be ; 
 
 Ding, — dong, ding ! 
 The silver bells chime cheerily ! 
 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 167 
 
 CONCLUSION, 
 
 You know we left good Santa Claus taking 
 a nap to refresh himself, after his long walk 
 to the Forest Green and the Treasure Cave. 
 
 He was very tired, and no doubt soon fell 
 asleep ; and he must have slept a long time, 
 too, for when he awoke, there knelt a large 
 beautiful rein-deer before him, with his cold 
 pointed nose resting in the lap of the old 
 gentleman, and his soft black eyes looking up 
 into his face. 
 
 " Ah, my brave Swift-of-Foot, what now ? " 
 cried Santa Claus, patting his head. 
 
 The graceful animal sprang to his feet. 
 
168 THE LITTLE 
 
 As he did so, the room was filled with the 
 tinkling sound of the little bells which hung 
 around his neck, seeming to say : 
 
 To-morrow will be Christmas day ' 
 Haste, dear master, haste away ; 
 All is ready, and we must glide 
 Over earth and oceans wide. 
 Then hasten, master, haste away, 
 To-morrow will he Christmas day ! 
 
 Then Santa Claus hastily arose and looked 
 from the window, and there, standing at the 
 gate, was his swift gliding sleigh, harnessed 
 to twelve beautiful rein-deer, pawing the 
 crusted snow, and tossing their antlers 
 proudly. 
 
 Hurrying to and fro, were a great many 
 little people, bearing on their heads, and in 
 their hands, and some over their shoulders, 
 heavy loads of the charming things which 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 169 
 
 had been prepared for happy Christmas and 
 for happy children. Some carried cases of 
 prettily bound books ; some hampers of 
 sugar-plums ; some boxes of furniture ; and 
 others were moving swiftly along, pretty 
 baby-houses, in which the lady dolls sat at 
 the windows, looking out upon the fine pros- 
 pect, while a far way off, coming from the 
 Green Forest, were seen the tiny woodmen 
 bearing their gaily-lighted Christmas trees. 
 
 Santa Claus took his pipe in his mouth, 
 and putting on his shaggy fur coat, — for the 
 air was keen and frosty, — went out with his 
 little red book in his hand, to look after this 
 joyously laden team ; and to be certain that 
 not a single child, whose name he had set 
 down on his list, was forgotten. 
 
 It took a great many hours to load this 
 singular sleigh, for the more pretty things 
 were placed on it, the more room there 
 15 
 
170 THE LITTLE 
 
 seemed to be ! An admirable plan was it 
 not ? Else, how could good Santa Claus, at 
 one time, make so many thousands of chil- 
 dren happy, if this swift gliding sleigh was 
 not able to carry more than it really appeared 
 to? 
 
 But, at last, all was ready, and Santa Claus, 
 with a joyous " ha ! ha ! " sprang in. 
 
 The rein-deer arched their beautiful necks, 
 and tossed proudly their high antlers ; the 
 pretty messenger birds flew round and round, 
 pouring sweet music from their little throats ; 
 and the silver bells rang out on the clear 
 moonlight air, like the songs of the angels 
 who watch over all good children. 
 
 Then Santa Claus shook the reins gaily, : — 
 and away, — away, — away, — over moun- 
 tains and meadows, — over hills and plains, — 
 through large cities, and quiet little villages, 
 
MESSENGER BIRDS. 171 
 
 passed the swift sleigh, freighted with so 
 many beautiful things ! 
 
 Now, listen for the merry Christmas bells, 
 dear children, and may you all be made 
 happy, by receiviug from Santa Claus, a 
 portion of the charming gifts which he 
 brings. 
 
 Then you will say : 
 
 " Ah, in my heart how r sweetly chime the 
 silver bells ! " 
 
 Farewell.