Bessie on Her Travels

“Sure, Missy,” replied the old man. “He allers hab a purpose in what He do, an’ a good one too; but sometimes we don’t see it, we ain’t fait’ enough.”

“But I think I do see it now,” said Bessie, her tiny fingers still resting on the blessed words of Jesus’ promise. “I think He sent me here, so I could bring you my little Testament.”

“Yes, Missy. I ’spect He did, dat’s a fac’,” answered Joe, not taking in at once that she meant to give him the book; “an’ dose words done Joe a heap of good. Yes: He send you here for read ’em to Joe.”

“But you don’t understand,” said Bessie. “I mean He sent me here to give you the Testament. I think He meant you to have it, you asked it in His name. It isn’t all the Bible: but it has all about Jesus, and a good deal besides, and the Psalms too; and you will love it very much, won’t you?”

“Missy don’t mean she gwine fur gib Joe her own book?”

“Oh yes, I do,” answered Bessie. “I have another Bible at home, and papa would give me as many as I want, and I can read my sister’s till we go home. I am going to give it to you for your own, Joe.”

The old man sat for a moment speechless with wonder and gratitude, then covered his face with his hands.

“I t’ank de Lord fust, and you next, Missy,” he said, when he removed them. “I t’ank Him, and bress His name, fur sen’ his little white dove to bring His word to ole black Joe. Yes, yes; for sure His promise stan’ in all place an’ all time. Missy fin’ it, an’ Joe fin’ it: de ole an’ de young, de black an’ de white, de rich an’ de poor, – all who lub and trust Him. He hear all, an’ do for all.”

He took the baby hand, and kissed it with a tender reverence that was very touching to see, but which the child in her innocence scarcely understood.

“Shall I read some more?” she asked.

Joe thankfully assented; and she finished the chapter, and read also the fifteenth then, closing the book, placed it in the old black man’s hand.

“De Lord know what’s in my heart, but I can’t speak it out no way,” he said, as he received it, drawing his rough coat-sleeve across his eyes; “but, Missy, I t’ink it a great t’ing to be de Lord’s little messenger to bring His word to his poor ole servant, what been thirstin’ for it so long.”

Belle had wakened while Bessie was reading, and sat up rather surprised at her little friend’s occupation, but did not interrupt it.

“It’s just like my dear Bessie,” she said to herself; “she’s always doing somefin’ for somebody.”

She looked about her as she listened to the reading; for every word came distinctly in the deep stillness around. Maggie was asleep still, and Mr. Travers’ eyes remained closed; but as Belle watched his face she said to herself, —

“I guess he’s just pretending. If he was papa, I’d go and wake him up, and tell him he is. Maybe he finks Bessie would be too bashful to read before him if she fought he was awake.”

Perhaps Belle was right; for Mr. Travers woke or seemed to wake very suddenly when Bessie ceased reading; and, looking at his watch, said that it was time for the train, and they must rouse the sleeping Maggie. This was done; and Maggie woke rather indignant at herself for going to sleep at all, and a little ashamed at finding all the others awake before her.

“Why! Did you put that there, sir?” she asked, as Mr. Travers picked up the hat which had proved such a comfortable pillow, and put it on his head.

“Yes,” he answered, “I thought the tree rather a hard resting-place for that little head in spite of the mass of curls which came between them, so when I saw it going down I popped in the ‘bad hat’ without your knowing it.”

“I’m very much obliged to you, sir,” said Maggie. “I wish I could do something for you.”

All the children were very grateful to this kind stranger who had taken such good care of them, and Belle said, —

“I wish I could too. If I was big I’d ask you when your birfday was; and I’d make you a pair of slippers, and a pin-cushion, and a watch-case, and every fing nice for a birfday present.”

“And I’d help,” said Maggie.

“And I,” said Bessie.

Here was ground for Maggie to build a new plan upon; and, in the few minutes which passed before the train came, she had enough to think about to keep her from feeling very impatient for its arrival.

And there it came, rushing up the long line of rail, – yet hardly fast enough for the little ones who had been so long away from their dear friends, – hailed with clapping of hands, dancing steps, and glad exclamations: never was a train more welcome.

The place was alive in a moment. Women and children came out to the doors and gates of the cottages, dogs barked, and hens cackled. Half a dozen men, white and colored, seemed to spring out of the ground, ready to busy themselves on the arrival of the cars; and old Joe drew up his wheelbarrow to the side of the track, ready for any chance trunk or box which might need to be wheeled away, and bring him a few pennies. Joe was a rich man now, to be sure, rich in the wealth which should pave with shining gold the path he must tread to the heavenly mansion his Saviour had gone to prepare for him: but he must still have a care for his few worldly needs; and now that his one great desire had been granted, he would yet put by something that he might have a little to help along such of his Lord’s work as should be given into his hand.

His hand was shaken, not only by the three children, but also by Mr. Travers; and they were gone: but their coming had brought light and gladness to old Joe; and, in his own simple language, he “will nebber disremember dis day while de Lord remembers me.”

There they were, – mamma, and the two papas, baby, nurse, and Daphne, – still at the station at – , and watching as eagerly for the train which was to bring back the sorely missed darlings, as those same little darlings were looking for the first glimpse of the dearly loved faces of their “own people.” What joy there was! What huggings and kissings! some happy tears too; and as for Mr. Travers, if he had had six arms to be shaken instead of two, they would all have been in use at once. There was some time to spare before the arrival of the train which was to carry them on the right route, which had been missed that morning; and it would be still longer before kind Mr. Travers would be able to proceed on the journey he had so generously interrupted, at some inconvenience to himself, for the sake of the little fellow-passengers who had so unconsciously attracted his notice that morning.

They gathered in the small room, which seemed large enough to hold them all now, and Mr. Travers was thanked over and over again, his address taken by Mr. Bradford, and a promise drawn from him that he would make his house his home when he should come to New York. More than this, Maggie privately drew from him the date of his “birfday,” which happened to be on the twenty-fifth of December: and you may like to know that this “plan” of Maggie’s was successfully carried out; and, last Christmas, Mr. Travers received a box containing a pair of slippers worked by Maggie, a pin-cushion by Bessie, and a watch-case by Belle. I do not believe that Mr. Travers thought the less of them because there were some crooked stitches in them, – especially in the two last, – and that the pocket of the watch-case was so small that by no possibility could a watch be squeezed therein.

But he did not part from the children that day without some token of remembrance, for when Maggie inquired about his birthday, and repeated, —

“I would so like to do something for you, sir, you was so kind to us,” he answered, —

“You can do something for me, Maggie. Give me your little Testament, if you will; and when I look at it, it will bring back to me some very sweet recollections of this day.”

Dear Maggie, only too happy when she could give or do any thing which brought pleasure to another, readily consented, thinking as Bessie had done, that “grandmamma wouldn’t mind when she knew the reason;” and the second little Testament went forth on its mission of love and life, in the hands of a new owner.

And pray what do you think had been that ungrateful baby’s greeting to her little sisters’ new friend? Nothing less than that oft-repeated “Oh, bad hat!” But being rested and at her ease now, she was not fretful, and was more astonished than displeased at its reappearance. We ought not to call her ungrateful either. She was glad to see her sisters, and offered plenty of “love Maggies’” and “love Bessies’,” which meant a tight squeeze of the little arms about the neck; but she could not understand the distress and anxiety their absence had occasioned on all sides, nor did she know what care had been bestowed upon them by the owner of the hat.

But Mr. Travers having taken off the hat and placed it beneath his chair, Baby made the most of her opportunities, and, seating herself on the carpet behind him, pulled it forth, and turned it over and over on her lap. Finding on a closer acquaintance that it was not so objectionable as she had thought it, she proceeded to try it on; and, nothing daunted by the fact that she was nearly extinguished by it, was, greatly to the amusement of all, presently discovered toddling blindly about the room, with her small head and dimpled shoulders quite hidden; while from beneath the hat came a muffled voice saying, in lisping tones, —

“Nice hat! oh, nice hat! Baby on nice hat.”

Bessie almost fell from her mother’s lap, and Belle from her father’s knee, with laughing at this joke, and Maggie hopped around and squealed in an ecstasy of fun and delight; and even the grown people could not help laughing heartily at the little “turncoat,” as nurse called her pet.

IX

KATE

It would take too long to follow Maggie and Bessie through all their travels, or to visit all the places visited by them, going from one to another by easy stages, as best suited mamma; and staying a day or two, or a week or two, according to the amount of interest and pleasure they found in each. Charleston and Richmond, Virginia Springs, the famous Natural Bridge, and many another spot, were described in Maggie’s letters to her friends at home; but the place of which she most delighted to write, because there she found the most to describe, was Washington. Here is one of her letters from that city: —

“My beloved Uncle Horace, – I think Washington is the most interesting city I ever met with. It has so much to see and buildings which are quite surprising and such a credit to themselves and the people who built them that I am proud of the nation to which I belong. But the most interesting place I find is the Pattern Office where are to be seen thousands and thousands of things one can never be tired of looking at. There are jewels and beautiful birds and butterflies, and very nasty bugs and spiders and oh! Uncle Horace an awful spider so large with his legs out he is as big as a dinner plate, I am thankful I do not live in that country, for he bites too and the people die, and I don’t see the use of spiders but I suppose some, or God would not have made them. And there are machines but we children did not care much for those and Indian things very interesting and all kinds of curiosities and beautiful toys. But the most interesting of all General Washington’s furniture and his clothes. But his furniture was very shabby and I think his grateful country ought to make him a present of some better and his coat – why, Uncle Horace it was all ragged and if it was not the father of his country’s I would say it looked like an old beggar man’s. But please do not think I am a traitor because I say this, for I would not be such a thing I hope, nor a Benedict Arnold either, I shan’t call him Mr. for he is not good enough, and I think he was the meanest man that ever lived not to take his own punishment but to let poor Mr. Andre be killed for him. And Bessie and I do think the father of his country might have let Mr. Andre off that once if he would promise never to do so again and we are afraid he forgot that time that Jesus wanted us to forgive one another as He forgave us. Papa says he had to make an example of Mr. Andre but I think he would have been a better example himself if he had showed mercy. And in the Pattern Office are some stufed animals some very pretty and some ugly as is in the nature of animals to be, for we all know they did not make themselves any more than people who are some ugly and some very handsome and they can’t help it. And so I don’t see why they have animals for patterns for no man nor woman either could make an animal but only God, but they are interesting to see though it must be disagreeable to stuff them.

“We saw the President and we are very much disappointed for he looks just like another man, not a bit better, and we did not expect it of him but thought he would be very grand and somehow different. I don’t care a bit if I never see another President. I think it is real mean. But he has a very grand house and he lets people come in and see it which is very kind of him, for I would not like people I did not know to come in my house, and pass remarks about it; but Papa says Presidents and kings and things of that kind have to do a great many things they do not like very much, so I hope I will never be a President or his wife either and if he asks me to marry him I will certainly say no and Bessie will too.

“There are a great many lovely toys in the Pattern Office but I will not say I wish they were mine because I cannot have them so it is of no use and it might be to break the tenth commandment. Papa says they belong to the government, but I don’t see what the government which is nothing but a lot of big men wants of playthings, and I think they would be much more use if children had them to take pleasure in them. If they were mine I would give the largest share to my Bessie, and then divide them with all my children friends and send some to the little cripples’ hospital.

“To-morrow Papa is going to take us to the Smithsonian Institude where they say are a great many curious and wonderful things and lots of animals dead ones I mean from all parts of the world. Which must be very instructif and if I do not improve my advantages I ought to be ashamed of myself and deserve to be a dunce. Mamma says it is time for us to go to bed, which I wish it was not and I wish there was no such place as bed but I do not tell dear Mamma so or she might think I did not honor her and I hope I may never be such an unnatural child. So good night dear Uncle Horace and Aunt May and May Bessie the same from your devoted till death do us part friend

    “Maggie.”

They did not stay long in Washington; for the weather was growing warm and oppressive, and our party were anxious to hurry northward, where it was cooler and pleasanter. We will not stop with them at Baltimore or Philadelphia, where nothing particularly interesting occurred; or even in their own city, where they stopped for a few days to rest and have a sight of all the dear home-faces, as well as to leave all the “curiosities and wonderful memories,” as Maggie called them, which they had collected in their southern rambles: but start off with them once more on their further journeyings.

They had parted from Mr. Powers and Belle: but Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie had joined the party, adding much to the enjoyment of all; and they were now on their way to beautiful Trenton and Niagara Falls.

A young lady and two gentlemen were coming up the brass-covered staircase of the steamboat which was carrying our friends up the river.

“Hallo!” said one of the latter as some small object fell at his feet. “What is this? Who is pelting me with flowers? No: it’s not a flower either. What is it, Mary?” and he stooped and picked it up, turning it round and round very gingerly, as if afraid it would fall to pieces in his fingers. “Looks like a small edition of that thing on your head.”