A Little Girl in Old New York

by Amanda M. Douglas

And there was Professor Audubon on the lawn with his wife and two little grandchildren. He came and welcomed the party cordially. He had met both doctors before. He was tall, with a fine fair face and long curling hair thrown back, now snowy white. Once with regard to the wishes of some friends while abroad he had yielded and had it cut "fashionable," to his great regret afterward, and the reminiscence was rather amusing. His wide white collar, open at the throat, added to his picturesque aspect. Then he had a slight French accent that seemed to render his hospitality all the more charming.

Ben and Charles knew that he had been nearly all over the Continent, and had hardships innumerable and discouragements many, and had in spite of them succeeded in writing and illustrating one of the most magnificent of books. And when they trooped into the house and saw the stuffed birds and animals, the pictures he had painted, and the immense folio volumes so rich with drawings, it hardly seemed possible that one brain could have wrought it all.

Everything, from the most exquisite hummingbird to an eagle and a wild turkey. There was no museum of natural history then. Mr. Barnum's collection was considered quite a wonder. But to hear this soft-voiced man with his charming simplicity describe them, was fascination itself.

The little girl really wavered in her admiration for Mayor Harper. He had been her hero par excellence up to this time. A man who could govern a city and make boots had seemed wonderful, but here was a man who could keep the birds quite as if they were alive. You almost expected them to sing.

He was very fond of children and Mrs. Audubon was hardly less delightful. They could not see half the treasures in such a brief while, and they were glad to be invited to come again. Ben did find his way up there frequently, and Charles gleaned many an entertaining bit of knowledge. When the little girl went again, the tender, eager eyes had lost their sight, and the enthusiasm turned to a pathos that was sorrow itself. But there was no hint of it this happy day, which remained one of their most delightful memories.

Now that they were so near, Margaret said they must go and see Miss Lois. Dr. Joe was quite a regular visitor, for Miss Lois was growing more frail every week. Josie and Tudie thought they would like to see another old house, and a harp "taller than yourself." Charles was much interested. Jim had his mind so full of birds and hunting adventures he could think of nothing else, and said he would rather walk around.

Miss Lois was quite feeble to-day, and said Margaret must be the hostess. They went into the old parlor and examined the quaint articles and some of the old-fashioned books. Josie wished they might try the harp and see how it would sound, but no one would propose it if Miss Lois was so poorly.

"It's very queer," said Hanny. "She played for me once. The strings are rusted and broken, and it sounds just like the ghost of something, as if you were going way, way back. I didn't like it."

The German woman was out in the kitchen and gave them each a piece of cake. There was a quaint old dresser with some pewter plates and a pitcher, and old china, and a great high mantel.

"You seem way out in the country," said Charles. "But it's pretty, too. And the trees and the river and Fort Washington. Why, it's been like an excursion. I am so glad you asked me to come."