Little Mittens for The Little Darlings

Her mother rushed out of the room, light and all, to have a laugh over the long word "invariably," which her little Sallie had heard somewhere, and altered so comically, then returning, she kissed the little rosy cheek, and said she really would not disturb her again if she wanted anything ever so much; and with a kiss on the other cheek, as Sallie said, to make it "valance," she bade her good night.

THE NEW LITTLE FRIEND

"Oh! here is something from Aunt Fanny, which looks extremely interesting," said the little mother one evening.

"Read it, do, please!" cried the children with sparkling eyes. "We will work at our mittens harder than ever, for anything so very nice."

So the kind mother began as follows:

My dear Children —

I must tell you what happened to me this morning – not for the first time, to be sure; but as it always makes me just as happy, I might as well call them all "first times."

I was very busy writing a ridiculous story for you about the Honorable Mr. Kite, when a barouche full of ladies drove up to the door. As I was sitting at the window, I could see them getting out. With them was a lovely little girl.

"Oh!" said I to Sarah, my daughter, "what a darling little child is coming here! I never saw her or the ladies before, and I am afraid they have stopped at the wrong house."

But the front door bell rang, and a moment after the servant handed me two cards. One was quite large and almost square. It had the name of a lady upon it. The other was such a dear little card that I must give you the exact pattern. Here it is —

name and all; and when Maria handed it to me, she said, "Oh, ma'am! if you could only see what a sweet little girl is down stairs! She took this card out of a silver card case of about the same size as this, and she smiled and skipped into the house as if she was so pleased!"

You may be sure I was not long in going down to the parlor. I had hardly got in the door when two little arms were round me, and a sweet voice said, "Aunt Fanny;" and when I stooped down, I think I got at least twenty kisses. Then one of the ladies took my hand, and told me how her little daughter loved me, and, above all, loved "Lame Charley," because she, like him, had been very ill for a long time, and his patience and sweetness had helped her to be patient and sweet. "But my darling is better now," she continued; "and when we came to New York, she begged me to bring her to see you."

I came very near crying. A thankful prayer rose in my heart, that God had permitted me to add to the happiness of this little one, whose pale, delicate face showed that she had passed through much suffering. It does grieve me so, to know that children must sometimes spend hours and days in pain! And I stooped again and kissed this tender little blossom, and felt sure, as I looked at the soft, loving expression of her large dark eyes, that Jesus, our Saviour and Friend, had loved and comforted her all through her illness.

The other lady was her aunt – a gentle, lovely person, for whom I seemed to feel an affection at once: indeed, we all talked together like old friends, and I could hardly bear to have them go away. I had a strange feeling, as if I must have known them all before, in some far off time. The mother's voice especially had a charming, cordial tone, which I shall always remember.

They could not stay very long, they said, because they had left a lady in the carriage who was an invalid. Then I wanted to run out and bring her in; but they said they must go; and my dear little new friend left me, with kisses, and promises to come some time and see me again.

This visit put me in mind of a story about little Annie, which I meant to have told you before. If you will please to forgive me, I will tell it to you now. I shall call it "Ilken Annie," because that is her own name for herself. By "ilken" she means "little."

ILKEN ANNIE

Ilken Annie lives in a beautiful house on Staten Island. Her mamma and I are great friends, and we have had plenty of pleasant fun together. Near the house is a lovely little lake, shaped exactly like the figure "eight" turned sideways, so: [symbol]. It has a cunning little bridge in the narrowest part, across which a whole regiment of dolls could march – and you and I, too, for that matter. It is so small and pretty, that I do believe you and I could catch gold fish out of it. I have looked very hard in it to find a mermaid, which, you know, is a lady with no feet: instead of those, she has a fish's tail. I wonder how one would taste boiled; for she is only a fish, after all, like the sea horses which swim about in the aquarium at Barnum's Museum. If Annie and I ever catch a mermaid in this beautiful lake, we will be sure to tell you all about it.

Near by is a grand old oak tree, standing alone and majestic, like a king on his throne; and a lovely flower garden, at the side of the house, is so bright in colors that one would suppose a company of rainbows had gone to housekeeping there.

In the middle of this garden there stands, day and night, a beautiful young lady, in a round straw hat; but I wouldn't kiss her for a dollar! for her cheeks, as well as all the rest of her, are as white as chalk and as hard as a stone. I dare say her heart is too, if she happens to have any. Who wants to kiss stone people? I'd rather kiss you, and ilken Annie, and that other sweet little Annie who came to see me.

Ilken Annie, when she was about four years old, was one pleasant day sitting in her chair by the window, knitting a little white garter – that is, she was learning to knit one.

"Oh my," she said, "the stitch is so naughty! It is running away! What shall I do?"

You see, there were five stitches on the knitting needle, and Annie's little fat fingers had hard work to keep them there.

So her kind mamma showed her very carefully how to pull a stitch through with the other needle, before it had time to be off on its travels; and the dear little child, with a bright smile, kissed her mother, and said, "It is all tight now; oh, how glad I am!" And she put out her chubby little leg to try how much larger that celebrated stitch had made the garter.

Presently she cried out again, "Oh, mamma, here's a stitch all climbed up, and another all rolled down; and one is so little I can't see his eye to poke the needle through. Oh, what a bad children!"

Her mother laughed at this funny speech, and said pleasantly, "'Try, try again,' ilken Annie." Then she pulled and twitched at the "bad children-stitches;" and once more Annie sat down to knit, singing, with a pretty little bird's note —

"'Tis a lesson you should heed:
Try, try again;
If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again."

Of course you know all of this pretty little song, don't you? Just sing it now.

By and by the little girl and her mother went down to luncheon; and there, on the table, were such lots of nice cream and raspberries, and white home-made bread! Oh! how I wish all the darling children in the world could have such a delicious lunch – so much better for them than pies or a whole bushel of sugar candy.

When this nice lunch was over, Annie's mother said, "My little darling, I am going to New York to buy a chest of tea, and hire a cook, besides taking a trunk which belongs to a friend. You must keep house for me, dear; and if any company comes, behave very politely to them, and take off their bonnets, and talk to them, and ask them to stay till I come home."

"So ilken Annie will, mamma," she answered; "but I'll tell them they mustn't pull off their shoes and stockings and paddle in the lake, saying, 'quack,' and making believe they are a duck, like brother did. I'll tell them that's naughty, won't I?"

"Yes," said the good mamma, laughing, "tell them what brother did. That will amuse them very much, dear; and when I come home, I will give you a dozen kisses and a pretty new book."

Oh, how Annie's blue eyes sparkled at this! for, would you believe it, she could read! Yes, read! and only four years old! It did not seem to have hurt her; for she was just as round, and plump, and rosy as possible. She learned her letters, nobody knows how – from the tops of newspapers; and the reading came so easy, that instead of having to learn in that pretty little school book called, "Reading without tears," Annie seemed always to have on a ticklesome apron, which turned all her lessons into "reading with laughing;" and it was such a funny business, and Annie grew so fat and bright under it, that her mother did not feel worried; but I advise all the rest of you, little darlings, if you don't like learning to read quite as well as bread and butter and raspberry jam, to put it off till your dear little heads and bodies have had at least two years more of play, and frolic, and tumbling about like kittens. You like that advice, don't you?

So Annie helped her mother to dress. She ran to the closet, brought out a green bandbox, and raising the cover, lifted up her mother's bonnet; then she opened one of the bureau drawers, and got her a pair of new kid gloves, and shut the drawer again. "Oh!" cried she, with a little laugh, "I forgot to take out a clean hankfun – too bad!" By this funny word she meant "pocket handkerchief."

So she ran back to the bureau, opened the drawer, and took a "hankfun" from a pile in the corner; and then her mother was quite ready.

Annie felt a little bit like crying when her mamma kissed her for good-by. She was such a little thing, you see – only four years old. You don't want your mamma to go away either, do you? you precious little rose, pink, bluebell, daisy!

But ilken Annie tried to look pleasant, and that is a famous way to be pleasant.

The carriage was just driving away, when the little girl remembered that her mother had not taken a shawl. It might be quite cool by the afternoon; so she ran quickly up stairs, got a plaid shawl, and Harry, one of her brothers, who is a right handsome little fellow, and as good as he is handsome, ran to the carriage with it; and then kissed his hand and raised his cap to his mamma for good-by; while Archie, the coachman, was looking on in great admiration.

Then he drove away with her, down to the Hunchback, at the landing, which was to take her to New York.

Now, don't you think, you fanny darling, that the "Hunchback" was an old man with a great lump on his shoulders; and Annie's mother was to take a seat on the top of it; and then the old man would swim to New York with her. Not a bit of it! The Hunchback was only an ugly old steamboat, which was all hunched up in the middle; and scratched through the water like a great crab trying to dance the polka.

Annie sat down and began to knit a little.

While she was knitting, she said this funny thing, which Eliza, the nurse, had taught her. See if you can say it:

"Little Kitty Kickshaw knotted and knitted for her kith and kinsfolk in her kinsman's kitchen.

"This knotting and knitting by little Kitty Kickshaw, in her kinsman's kitchen, kept her kinsfolk.

"So come and kiss kind little Kitty Kickshaw, for keeping her kith and kinsfolk by knotting and knitting in her kinsman's kitchen."

Pretty soon, down dropped a stitch off the needle.

"O – h," said Annie, "too bad! I must put it away till mamma comes home." So she opened a drawer in the table and laid her knitting down. Then she put on a nice little pink sun bonnet, and ran out into the garden to pick some flowers. The stone young lady smiled at her; but as she could not speak or run, Annie did not care a speck for her: she thought a great deal more of the good little dog dozing on the mat before the door.

Pretty soon the dog, whose name was Grip, woke up, shook himself, and ran after her to have a frolic, for he was always ready for that; and Annie and he raced around, till her sun-bonnet fell off. Then she sat down under the grand old oak tree, and had a real nice talk with Grip, who ran out his tongue, and wagged his tail, and looked as wise as Solomon.