Bessie among the Mountains

by Joanna H. Mathews

Never was a birdie coaxed with more pretty names than was this one during the next ten minutes; and he seemed to like them well, for, after answering with one or two more half-timid "cheeps," he broke into a soft trill, which soon swelled into a clear, sweet song of joy.

Maggie and Bessie were in ecstasies, and Cousin Alexander certainly had reason to think his kindness had given all the pleasure he intended it should.

This was the last day they were to spend at the homestead, and the children made the most of it. Every nook and corner was visited, and all kinds of odd traps were dragged to light, and presented by the young cousins to be kept in memory of the old place, "family relics," Maggie called them; and very curious "family relics" some of them were. Among other things were two or three peacock feathers, a turkey wing, some pebbles from the brook where papa used to sail his boats when he was a boy, a piece of rusty tin pipe, which, because it looked black and smoky, and came from the field where the burnt barn had stood, they persuaded themselves must be a part of the very leader down which papa slid when he ran for the ladder to save his little brother,—all these, and other treasures of like value, were carefully collected and stowed in the wagons, to be carried to the Lake House, and thence to the city.

But at last the busy, happy day came to an end, and farewell had to be said to the dear old homestead and the kind family there.

Birdie did not like his ride up the mountain at all, but chirped in a very miserable, beseeching manner all the way; and, when he was safely at the Lake House and hung up out of the reach of Mrs. Porter's old pussy cat, tucked his head under his wing, and went to sleep at once, as if he were glad to forget all his troubles.

But he was bright enough the next morning; for he woke the little girls with his song some time before the hour at which they were accustomed to rise. Bessie, always a light sleeper, was the first to be roused by his sweet notes, that soft, half-doubtful little trill with which he began; but, as it rose into a gush of joyous music, Maggie, too, stirred, and opened her eyes. She listened a moment, then turned towards Bessie, who lay with her eyes fixed on the bird with a dreamy, thoughtful look.

"What are you thinking of, Bessie?" she asked, softly.

"I was thinking," said Bessie, "that it seemed as if our Father was letting the jewel of forgiveness sparkle a little for us here before we carried it over the river to Him."

"Yes," said Maggie, "I was thinking something like that last night, but I did not put it in such nice words; and I am just going to put in the Complete Family, that B. Happy said it. And perhaps, Bessie, if we had not taken up the jewel of prayer, and asked our Father for help, we might never have found the other jewels."

"Or, if He had not helped us very much, we might not have taken them up, when we did find them," said Bessie. "It was pretty hard work to take up that first one of giving the banana to Dolly; and, Maggie, do you know I did such a very naughty thing as 'most to wish He did not give me the chance I had asked for: but, after that, all the rest were very easy to take up, and I did not find it at all hard to forgive Dolly every thing she had done."