Bessie on Her Travels

“Dear Uncle Ruthven, – Whenever I think of the pleasure of writing to my absent friends who are away from me in distant lands I am always very thankful that I am not a quadrewped or other animal which has only legs and no arms to write with. And if it had, no brains or ideas, but only instinct which is not enough to write with. So I thank God He gave me a sencible soul which thinks, and arms and also pen, ink, and paper. And also pencils for Bessie has to print with them, and also friends which we can write to, for if I was an orfun and had no friends I would be badly of and very lonesome and my ideas of no use. So I think every one ought to be very grateful for these things (if they have them) and if they have not let them say God knows best; and I think it is the duty of the human race to make use of these things and to write long letters to all their friends, for it is such a pleasure to have letters and to answer them. And I am going to write you the longest letter I ever wrote in my life, because the Bible says, ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye also unto them.’

“But, dear Uncle Ruthven, we have had no adventures to tell you about. I mean real real adventures; except only one which was most terrible to hear and was that Bessie met a snake that was poisonous and nearly bit her, but a good dog of Mr. Powrs would not let her go on, and so she did not come in the way of the snake which was a wonderful blessing or she might have died. And then I would have been like the king Miss Ashton told us about, whose son was drowned and he never smiled again nor would I if my Bessie came to such a sad end but would be unhappy all the days of my existence and never laugh at the funniest thing that could happen. And I pray our Father in Heaven that my Bessie will not die while I am alive even to go to Heaven for I would miss her so very, very much. But I will not write any more of this most unhappy thing or else my beloved uncle you will say ‘what a sad, stupid letter Maggie has written to me,’ and I would not wish any one to take the liberty of saying such a thing about me.

“Belle’s home which is named Oakdale is a place most beautiful to behold with such large oak trees that make the most pleasant of shades and magnolias and vines of jessamine and other sweet smells most delicious to the nose. I do wish there was a nicer name to call a nose, it don’t sound nice in a letter. And such lots and heaps of rice, enough for a million dinner and breakfasts I should think but I hope I shall never be in the necessity to eat it for I hate rice. But Bessie likes it very much so I am glad it grows for her and others. And we had such fun playing with it and working too for we helped the men a great deal. Now you need not laugh Uncle Ruthven nor the boys either if you let them read this letter, for the men said we did and if you had seen the great bag we filled you would know it. It was real funny to see the rice run down the wooden gutters into the hoppers. Isn’t that a queer name?

“Papa said such a funny thing. He said he knew a hopper that would not be of much use in that mill because it always shut its mouth whenever any rice came near it, and he meant me. It made us all laugh so. The next day after to-morrow we are going to take adieu of Savannah and all the kind people we have come to know; and of Miss Adams and the doctor; and most of all of Mr. and Mrs. Norris and Lily. Lily cries about it and wants to stay with us but her parents have to stay in this place for a short time and to go home by the steamer, and I am glad and thankful such is not my fate to be seasick again. Oh! Uncle Ruthven! it is awful! and you can’t help it if you make up your mind ever so much. But we go by land which is much better than the sea to travel on and shall visit many places and see many surprising things which I shall advertise you of when I know them myself.

“Bessie and I think we never heard of any thing so kind and generous as Fred to say he wanted you to give us a pony for his present and never no never again will I say Fred teases, no not if he plages me ever so much. But I think he does not plage so much as he used to. Mamma was so pleased about him and is at this present moment writing to him. It is a very charming thing to have sencible and religious parents and I suppose also it must be so for the parents to have their children improve and be as sencible and good as is in their natures. But it is not in mine to be so good as Bessie and I despair of it for it is not in me. The other day a lady was talking to Bessie and I heard her say afterwards, ‘That child is a little angel.’ I suppose she meant like an angel which would be far better for her to say as it is always best to say just what you mean but I thank her for the complement to my Bessie and think she must be a woman of sense.

“Harry wrote to Mamma and said something that hurt my feelings. He said I wrote very nice letters but they were so full of moral reflextions and centiment that he almost killed himself laughing. Now I know he didn’t almost kill himself and Miss Ashton never taught us reflextions and centiment and I don’t know what they mean and I wouldn’t do such a thing as to put them in my letters. I don’t think Harry is very kind to say that and make fun of me. But don’t you tell any one I said so for you know I tell you all my secrets dear Uncle Ruthven and maybe Harry would think I was cross.

“Please give my love to every body I know if I do love them and if I don’t my complements and most of all to all my own people. It took me two days to write all this letter which I hope will give satisfaction from your affectionate beloved

    “Maggie.”

Last of all here is a little letter which Bessie wrote to her grandmamma, —

“Dear darling Granmamma, – Your Bessie is going to send a letter to you to tell you how I love you but I cant rite such nice leters as Maggie. Dont Maggie make nice leters and she said she would help me but I toled her I wanted to make it all myself so you would kno how much I love you. Please dear Granmamma to rite me an answer to my leter and I hope you will keep alife till we come home or if you are not dear Manma will cry and all the rest of us two. I saw a carf in a cart with all its legs tied and it mad me sorry and I wish it was mine to let it luse. Baby is so sweet and she has a new trik that is so cuning. All the time she pulls off her shoes and soks and Mamma don’t want her to so Nursey says shame shame when she does it and when baby sees any one else do it now she always calls shame and she saw a gentelman in the parlor who did not kno how to be very polite and he sat with his slipper hanging on his toe and Baby pointed her finger at him and called out very loud Oh shame shame and every boddy lafed it was so funny. Every day I am more and more glad for dear Manma feels so much better and it makes such a joy in my hart that I can’t tell it but you kno it don’t you dear Granmanma for you are her own mother and you love her just like she loves me. I am too tired to make it any longer and I love you and my solger and all my peple and I send them kisses.

“Good by dear Granmanma

    “Your little pet
    “Bessie.”

VII

A “REAL, REAL ADVENTURE.”

They were all in the railway train bound for – ; that is, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, with their three little girls and nurse, Mr. Powers, Belle, and old Daphne.

Maggie, Bessie, and Belle, with their dolls, had two whole seats to themselves, one having been turned so as to face the other, and give them what Bessie called a “nice, cunning travelling-house.” Here they had established themselves in great comfort, papa and mamma being just behind; while Mr. Powers, and the two nurses with Baby, were seated on the opposite side of the car.

And here, by and by, seeing the nice play that was going on, did Miss Baby think it best to betake herself and her own doll, named Peter Bartholomew. This gentleman with the long name, which had been given to him by Fred, was made entirely of worsted, face, cap, coat, and pants, all knit of the brightest colors, and could be knocked about or thrown from any height without damage to his head or limbs. So for this reason he had come travelling with Baby Annie, as her dolls were apt to receive some hard knocks and severe falls, not altogether wholesome for more brittle materials.

But Annie was not very fond of Peter Bartholomew, and he received some pretty hard usage at her tiny hands; so that it was well he was not a gentleman of tender feelings, and was able to take thumps, hard squeezes, and scoldings with the utmost composure.

However, on this occasion she thought it wise to praise Peter Bartholomew, by way of persuading her sisters that his company, as well as her own, was desirable; and, putting her little head on one side in the most insinuating manner, she spoke thus from nurse’s lap, —

“Baby tome too. Peter tome too. Baby dood. Peter dood. Nice Peter. Oh, pitty Peter!”

“Oh! isn’t she too cunning, the darling?” said Bessie. “Let’s let her come play with us.”

“Yes, we’ll take her in our house,” said Belle.

So baby was taken into the enclosure, which Maggie had made quite complete by fastening a handkerchief from the arm of one seat to that of the other, and calling it “the door.” Nurse could have lifted baby at once into the place which was offered for her; but that would not do at all. Baby must wait till the door was untied, and she admitted in due form.

Once there, and seated in a snug corner, she behaved herself very well for a long time, watching her little sisters and Belle with grave admiration and wonder, and submitting to be played and “pretended” with just as they chose, only now and then insisting that they should all “tiss Peter,” a thing which she would by no means be induced to do herself.

But at last she took it into her head to look out of the window, and in order to do that she must stand upon her feet, which was not safe to let her do without some careful hand to guard her; and as she objected very decidedly to returning to the other side of the car where nurse sat, there was nothing for it but to let nurse come to her.

Now this interfered very much with the arrangements of the three little girls, who were having a grand “family” play; and not one of them was at all inclined to be so disturbed, and there was even some pouting when nurse said they must make room for her for a short time.

But Maggie, Bessie, and Belle could all understand better than Baby Annie, that in travelling one must consider the comfort and convenience of one’s fellow-passengers, as well as one’s own. Baby was very little, and not very well: they had a long day’s journey before them, and it was necessary that she should be indulged in a measure, and kept in a good humor as long as possible; and Bessie was the first to think of this.

“Now, just let me in here for a bit, my honeys,” said nurse, as Maggie stood with her hand on the pocket-handkerchief door, determined to defend her “house” as long as possible. “Baby’ll fret if I take her to the other side when she don’t like it, and that will worry your mother; besides it’s sunny there when we come out of the woods. Let her look out of your window awhile, with me to hold her, and it will soon be her sleepy time, when ye may have your place to yourselves.”

Now old nurse was by no means a small woman; and the children knew that their quarters would be very much narrowed when she should find entrance there, and she might have found it hard work to persuade them to yield without interference from their father or mother, had not Bessie bethought herself when nurse spoke of her mother.

“Oh, yes!” she said to her sister and Belle, “you know we came on our travels to do mamma good, and so we mustn’t let any thing trouble her. If we do, maybe our Father would think we didn’t care very much that He made her better, and that we are ungrateful. Any thing must be choosed ’cept to worry mamma. And baby don’t know any better; so let’s give up to her this time, if she cries everybody will be uncomf’able.”

“Well,” said Maggie, once more untying the handkerchief, “I won’t be selfish.”

“Nor I,” said Belle, who had been the most unwilling to give up her own way.

The “cunning house” was certainly far less roomy when Mammy was seated therein; but having made up their minds to do a kind act, our little girls did it pleasantly and made no fussing about it; the only thing that was said being when Bessie remarked, —

“Nursey, it would be rather convenienter if you were not quite so fat,” which nurse thought a great joke, and laughed heartily, saying, —

“And there’s nobody knows that better than your old Mammy, my pet; but just put by your play till baby’s had her fill of looking out, and I’ll tell ye a story.”

Nurse’s stories always found a market; and the three little girls ranged themselves in the seat facing her, and listened eagerly while she told them the most marvellous of fairy tales.

Meanwhile, Baby Annie, happy and contented, amused herself with watching the swiftly passing objects; and Peter Bartholomew, held by one foot, hung dangling head downwards from the car window. How much he enjoyed this novel mode of riding, neither he nor his little mistress ever told, though baby had enough to say both to herself and him while nurse talked to the other children.

But at last Mrs. Bradford suddenly exclaimed, —

“Take care, nurse; baby has her head out!” and Mammy, who had turned her face for a moment from her charge, drew her in and seated her on her lap.

“Baby must not put her head out,” said mamma: “she’ll be hurt.”

“Peter out,” said baby.

“Why! she’s lost Peter Barfolomew,” said Belle.

“Sure enough,” said nurse, when she had shaken out her skirts, and looked on the floor, without finding that gentleman.

“Bad Peter. Peter all don,” chuckled the baby.

“Did ye throw Peter out?” asked Mammy.

Baby could not say yes; but she nodded her little head till it seemed as if she would wag it off, seeming to think she had done something very praiseworthy.

“Oh, you naughty girl!” said nurse.

“No, no: baby dood; bad Peter. Peter all don, Peter out,” said baby again, clapping her hands, and laughing with the most self-satisfied air.

Yes, Peter Bartholomew was “all gone,” left far behind as the train sped on its way; and though the children went off into merry peals of laughter at little Annie’s bit of mischief, Mrs. Bradford was rather sorry, since Aunt Patty had taken such pains to make him for her. However, the baby knew no better, and his loss could not trouble her much.