Little Annie's Ramble

DING-DONG! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The town crier has rung his bell, at a distant corner, and little Annie
stands on her father's doorsteps, trying to hear what the man with the
loud voice is talking about. Let me listen too. O, he is telling the
people that an elephant, and a lion, and a royal tiger, and a horse with
horns, and other strange beasts from foreign countries, have come to town,
and will receive all visitors who choose to wait upon them! Perhaps little
Annie would like to go. Yes; and I can see that the pretty child is weary
of this wide and pleasant street, with the green trees flinging their
shade across the quiet sunshine, and the pavements and the sidewalks all
as clean as if the housemaid had just swept them with her broom. She feels
that impulse to go strolling away--that longing after the mystery of the
great world--which many children feel, and which I felt in my childhood.
Little Annie shall take a ramble with me. See! I do but hold out my hand,
and, like some bright bird in the sunny air, with her blue silk frock
fluttering upwards from her white pantalets, she comes bounding on tiptoe
across the street.
Smooth back your brown curls, Annie; and let me tie on your bonnet, and we
will set forth! What a strange couple to go on their rambles together! One
walks in black attire, with a measured step, and a heavy brow, and his
thoughtful eyes bent down, while the gay little girl trips lightly along,
as if she were forced to keep hold of my hand, lest her feet should dance
away from the earth. Yet there is sympathy between us. If I pride myself
on anything, it is because I have a smile that children love; and, on the
other hand, there are few grown ladies that could entice me from the side
of little Annie; for I delight to let my mind go hand in hand with the
mind of a sinless child. So, come, Annie; but if I moralize as we go, do
not listen to me; only look about you, and be merry!
Now we turn the corner. Here are hacks with two horses, and stage-coaches
with four, thundering to meet each other, and trucks and carts moving at a
slower pace, being heavily laden with barrels from the wharves, and here
are rattling gigs, which perhaps will be smashed to pieces before our
eyes. Hitherward, also, comes a man trundling a wheelbarrow along the
pavement. Is not little Annie afraid of such a tumult? No; she does not
even shrink closer to my side, but passes on with fearless confidence, a
happy child amidst a great throng of grown people, who pay the same
reverence to her infancy that they would to extreme old age. Nobody
jostles her; all turn aside to make way for little Annie; and, what is
most singular, she appears conscious of her claim to such respect. Now her
eyes brighten with pleasure! A street-musician has seated himself on the
steps of yonder church, and pours forth his strains to the busy town, a
melody that has gone astray among the tramp of footsteps, the buzz of
voices, and the war of passing wheels. Who heeds the poor organ-grinder?
None but myself and little Annie, whose feet begin to move in unison with
the lively tune, as if she were loath that music should be wasted without
a dance. But where would Annie find a partner? Some have the gout in their
toes, or the rheumatism in their joints; some are stiff with age; some
feeble with disease; some are so lean that their bones would rattle, and
others of such ponderous size that their agility would crack the
flagstones; but many, many have leaden feet, because their hearts are far
heavier than lead.