“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.”
“Just what it is,” replied his sister. “It is a doll’s hat. Ah! there is the little owner, I suppose,” and she looked up at Bessie who was peeping over the banisters with watchful, earnest eyes, and holding Margaret Colonel Horace in her arms.
“Are you the young lady who has been pelting me with dolls’ hats, and trying to make me think they were flowers?” asked the young man as he came to the top of the stairs.
“It is only one hat, and I didn’t try to make you think it was a flower, and I didn’t pelt you with it, and I’m only a little girl,” answered Bessie, demurely. “It fell off my dolly’s head; but I’m very glad you came up just then, before any one stepped on it.”