sleeping puppiesSLEEPY LITTLE FELLOWS!
SLEEPY LITTLE FELLOWS!
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Volume 13, Number 43.Copyright, 1886, byD. Lothrop& Co.August 28, 1886.
THE PANSY.
THE PANSY.
woman in woddan shoes and boy carrying bundles of stickesNORMANDY WOMAN IN WOODEN SHOES.
woman in woddan shoes and boy carrying bundles of stickesNORMANDY WOMAN IN WOODEN SHOES.
NORMANDY WOMAN IN WOODEN SHOES.
By Margaret Sidney.
G
GEORGE EDWARD ALLEN was now sixteen; hale, hearty, and full of fun. Truth compels me to state that he did not take first prize for English Composition, Latin, Mathematics, or even for general deportment, at the close of the summer term just past. He had no gold medals to carry home to his admiring parents, to be afterward hung up in his room for the delectation of any who might choose to examine. He was only an industrious, even-tempered boy of ordinary steady ability, but without the least capacity for shining before a large audience with the splendor of the examination hour.
He did have bestowed upon him, however, at the last moment, in various little rencontres with master and under teachers, several little pleasant attentions that made his heart thrill, and the warm blood mount his brown cheek.
“Allen, I must say I could give you a prize for loving the right, with all my heart.” This from the master, with that peculiar light in his gray eyes that seldom came; and because so seldom, was treasured deep by the one who brought it there. He went further: “My boy, I would give ten years of my life for such a son as you are.” They were in a side recitation room alone, and the master’s hand laid on the lad’s shoulder, no one saw, much less heard the words.
George Edward looked up quickly and gratefully.
“Good-by,” said the master. “If you want any help in vacation over a tough spot in any study, just drop me a hint of it.” There was a smile in the overworked face, that lighted up each hard line.
“Good-by, Allen,” said an under teacher regretfully, as George Edward ran down the passage, “I wish you were to be near me this summer; I shall miss you,” and Mr. Bryan put himself in the way of the boy’s advancement. “I want to thank you for your good influence in the class-room. For you have done more than the teacher sometimes,” he frankly added.
George Edward tried to protest, but it was no use. “Don’t be discouraged,” added the teacher kindly, “if prizes do not fall to you now; but keep on.”
“I should have liked to carry one home to father and mother,” said George Edward honestly.
“Of course; who of us does not?” assented Mr. Bryan. “Let me tell you though, my boy, that the prizes, though late often, that fall to industry and conscientious work, are better worth getting. Take that with you to think of this summer.”
The boys made loud protestations of regret, which goes without saying, at the necessary parting to come. How long the vacation seemed, looking from the standpoint of June. How impossible to wait till September before George Edward’s round countenance should burst upon them like a ray of sunshine, and his cheery voice call to some sport, in which they could see no hint of fun if he did not lead off. But all things are finally pronounced ended. So at last George Edward found himself at home, with the only prospect of enjoyment ahead of him, an invitation to visit at Uncle Frost’s.
“I’m sorry it’s all the outing we can give you this summer, my boy,” said Mother Allen soberly; “your father intended to take you if he went on the Maine trip, but Mr. Porter wanted the Western business done now, and that is altogether too expensive to be thought of.”
George Edward’s eyes glistened. That Western trip would have made a vacation beating every other boy’s that he had known. He broke out eagerly, “O mother—” then stopped. She looked pale and troubled.
“It’s a good enough place at Uncle Frost’s,” he finished indifferently; “when do I start?”
“No, it isn’t very pleasant,” said Mrs. Allen truthfully. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have gone into the country; but we can’t afford it unless I go and shut up the house, and I can’t do that, because grandma isn’t well, and must come here.”
“Never mind,” said George Edward, “there’s some fun in it, anyway. We’ll call it bully.”
“It will be a change,” said his mother, “andthat’s all you can say, and you’ll have a chance to learn something new, and see other people.”
“When does he want me to come?” asked George Edward, dashing at the letter again.
“Next week,” said Mrs. Allen.
“All right; I’ll put my traps together, and be off. Gainesburg is the cry now,” cried George Edward.
But for once the boy was in luck. Two days after Uncle Frost’s house had received him, Mrs. Allen was reading the following letter:
My Dear Mother:Hurrah—hurrah—hurrah! Uncle Frost is a brick (beg pardon, mother)! He’s given me a royal, out-and-out invite to go to the White Mountains with the family. Expenses all thrown in, etc., etc. Start on Saturday. Telegraph “yes” please.Your affectionate Son,George Edward.
My Dear Mother:
Hurrah—hurrah—hurrah! Uncle Frost is a brick (beg pardon, mother)! He’s given me a royal, out-and-out invite to go to the White Mountains with the family. Expenses all thrown in, etc., etc. Start on Saturday. Telegraph “yes” please.
Your affectionate Son,George Edward.
“Yes” was telegraphed over the hills on Thursday, and for two weeks our boy revelled in the bliss of mountain life, with quantities of fun, frolic and adventure thrown in by the way, to return all made over, to Uncle Frost’s, there to meet the ill news travelling fast over the electric wires:
“Your father died suddenly at St. Paul. Come at once.”
Had it come so soon? George Edward looked life in the face this vacation time, accepted his cross, bade good-by to all hopes of ever entering school or college life again, and thanked God for the situation in the drug store that the apothecary around the corner gave him.
His father’s affairs, well looked over, gave no hope of anything but the direst economy for the widow. As for the son, he must go to work, and at once.
“Now we will see if he holds out a saint,” one boy was mean enough to think, seeing George Edward hurry to his place of work every morning bright and early. Other eyes quite as sharp, though far from cruel, were on him. It was an awful ordeal for any boy to pass through; most of all, because of the commonplaceness of the sacrifice he was daily making. Had he marched up to the cannon’s mouth, and courted death to save his mother’s life, this would have been easy compared to the monotonous dead-level existence he was enduring. For to the active boy, alert for an excitement, wide awake for novelty, with every muscle crying out for exercise and change, the close confinement of the small store, and the routine work, were torture indeed. He began to show the effects of such a life, and in three weeks his mother was aghast to find that her boy had grown suddenly thin and pale.
“Why, George Edward,” she cried, “you can’t stay in that store.”
“I must,” said George Edward doggedly.
“But you will die,” cried poor Mrs. Allen, “then what shall I do?” And the tears began to come.
George Edward thought a bit. Then he said “There isn’t anything else, mother, only work on a farm. But it’s August now, who’d give me a chance at it, pray tell?”
“I shall try,” said his mother, rousing herself, “you will die where you are.” And she seized paper and pen and wrote the following:
A boy of sixteen who has just lost his father wishes a place to work on a farm for the remainder of the season. Only those persons of unexceptional references who wish such a farm hand not afraid to work, need apply toMrs. E. C. Allen,—— ——
A boy of sixteen who has just lost his father wishes a place to work on a farm for the remainder of the season. Only those persons of unexceptional references who wish such a farm hand not afraid to work, need apply to
Mrs. E. C. Allen,—— ——
George Edward was in a fever of excitement, though he tried not to show it, all the next three days. His mother met with such poor success in her efforts to conceal her state of mind, that she went around the house, a bright spot in either cheek, scarcely able to set herself with calmness at any task. At last, on the evening of the third day, this letter was drawn from the post-office:
Respected Madam:If your son really wants to work, send him on. Here’s a letter from my paster, maybe that will be satisfyin’. Three dollars a week an’ board. That’s what I pay. Yours to command,Job Stevens,Blueberry Hill.
Respected Madam:
If your son really wants to work, send him on. Here’s a letter from my paster, maybe that will be satisfyin’. Three dollars a week an’ board. That’s what I pay. Yours to command,
Job Stevens,Blueberry Hill.
The “paster’s” letter reading remarkably well, and a friend investigating the matter with thoroughness for Mrs. Allen, finding it all right, George Edward’s trunk was packed, and he at once dispatched for Blueberry Hill.
It was evening when he arrived there.
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Q
QUEEN ELIZABETH was the daughter of the wicked Henry the Eighth and of Anne Boleyn. Elizabeth was about three years old when she was left motherless. On the death of her sister Mary she ascended to the throne, and amid joyful acclamations was proclaimed queen.
As the grand procession moved along the queen was very kind and gracious, and the poor came up to her carriage, with nosegays for her, and when any one wanted to speak to her, she would stop the carriage. The coronation took place at Westminster. The crown was placed upon her head amidst great shouting and rejoicing. Elizabeth placed a ring upon her own finger, to signify that she was espoused to the realm of England, and that ring she wore for forty years.
Elizabeth was a fine scholar, and in many respects her reign was prosperous, but she was very irritable, and did several things which have marred and stained her name.
the abbeyWESTMINSTER ABBEY.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
Of course there is very much to learn about her which you must read yourself in history. You will there be told all about her troubles with the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, who was her relative, and who after being a prisoner in Fotheringay Castle for many years, was executed.
She was very beautiful. It is thought that Elizabeth envied her remarkable beauty, which is a very wicked thing to do. Elizabeth, though homely, was very vain, and dearly loved compliments.
At one time there were many pictures of the queen circulated, much resembling her, and therefore not very handsome. So the queen issued a formal proclamation against them, forbidding the people to sell them, and stating that an artist would be employed to make a true picture of her. What a pity she did not realize that beauty of mind, kindness of heart, nobleness of character, and above all, the true Christian spirit, were much more to be desired than anything so frail and perishable as human beauty. Never, in any reign, has England known such pomp and splendor as in Elizabeth’s time. She was fond of parade. She once went to churchsurrounded by a thousand men in armor, and drums and trumpets sounding.
portraitQUEEN ELIZABETH. (From painting in the English National Portrait Gallery.)
QUEEN ELIZABETH. (From painting in the English National Portrait Gallery.)
You will read in her life about the Earl of Essex, who was a prime favorite with Elizabeth for a long time, but he offended her, and she caused him to be executed. She had once given him a ring, to be returned to her in case he ever needed her aid. When in prison he sent it, but it was intercepted. The queen got angry because the ring did not come, and therefore thought Essex was very proud. After his death, however, she learned about the ring, and was therefore thrown into deep distress, and soon pined away and died. She had about three thousand dresses at the time of her death, in her wardrobe. Her last words were, “Millions of worlds for an inch of time.”
She was buried in Westminster Abbey, where many of the great of England sleep in unbroken repose.
Ringwood.
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F
FOUR hundred and thirty-four years—1452-1886. What wonderful events have been taking place all along through these years since the young Girolamo first saw the light! And I have been wondering what Savonarola would have said and done had he lived in this nineteenth century. He is spoken of as one whose soul was stirred by ardent faith which burned through all obstacles; as a fervid orator and as a sagacious ruler, who evolved order out of chaos; as one who to maintain his cause of reform braved single-handed the whole power of the Papacy. He is described as a serious, quiet child, early showing signs of mental power. The books which were his favorites would, I fear, be pronounced dry by the boys of to-day. But although he was given to solid reading, he was fond of music and poetry, and even wrote verses himself. He enjoyed solitude, and loved to wander alone along the banks of the River Po. I ought to have told you that his native city was Ferrara, in Italy. He was expected to succeed his grandfather who was an eminent physician, and with that end in view he was carefully trained. But as he grew older, he found himself growing to regard the thought with disfavor, and as time went on he became convinced that “his vocation was to cure men’s souls instead of men’s bodies.” Yet he was for a long time restrained from entering upon the priesthood by regard for the hopes and desires of his parents. But at length after having made this his daily prayer, “Lord, teach me the way my soul must walk,” the path of duty became clear and he, avoiding the painful farewells, slipped away from home one day when the rest of the family were absent at a festival, writing an affectionate note of explanation and farewell. He entered a monastery at Bologna, where he gave himself up to the work of special preparation for the duties of his profession.
After some years he was sent to Florence to preach. At first his plain and severe denunciations of the prevailing sins of the time repelled the people who preferred to go where they could hear more polished and less conscience-awakening sermons, and Savonarola mourned over his apparent failure to reach the hearts of the multitudewho were rushing on in the ways of sinful indulgence. But his soul was moved with zeal “for the redemption of the corrupt Florentines. He must, he would, stir them from their lethargy of sin.” He was convinced that he was in the line of duty, and the more indifferent his hearers were the more anxious he grew for their awakening. Actuated by this motive he suddenly found his voice and revealed his powers as an orator. God had shown him how to reach men’s hearts at last, and “he shook men’s souls by his predictions and brought them around him in panting, awestruck crowds;” then at the close of his denunciations of sin, his voice would sink into tender pleading and sweetly he would speak of the infinite love and mercy of God the Father.
After a time, St. Mark’s Church would not hold the crowds which came to hear him and he was invited to preach in the Cathedral. He was now acknowledged as a power in Florence, and the great Lorenzo de’ Medici who was then at the height of his fame as a ruler, was alarmed, and he sent a deputation of five of the leaders of the government to advise the monk to be more moderate in his preaching, hinting that trouble might follow a disregard of this advice. But the monk was unmoved. He replied, “Tell your master that although I am an humble stranger and he the city’s lord, yet I shall remain and he will depart.” He also declared that he owed his election to God, and not to Lorenzo, and to God alone would he render obedience.
Lorenzo was very angry, but he tried to silence the monk by bribery, but Savonarola would not be bribed nor driven. He continued to preach with great fervor, denouncing sin in high places as well as in low. You know that in those times corruption had crept into the Church of Christ, and it was against these sins of the Church that his most scathing denunciations were hurled. He had many followers, and he pushed his reforms in Church and State. His enemies grew more bitter and fiercer. Remonstrances from those in authority had no effect. He was offered a cardinal’s hat, but would not accept the conditions. He said, “I will have no hat but that of the martyr, red with mine own blood.”
And this was his fate; at last he was put to death in 1498. Almost his last words were, “You cannot separate me from the Church triumphant! that is beyond thy power.” In the convent of St. Mark’s are preserved various relics of the martyred monk, among which are his Bible with notes by his own hand, and a portrait said to have been painted by Fra Bartolommeo. I have seen a copy of this portrait. It is in profile, with the Friar’s cowl. At the first glance the expression of the prominent features seems strangely stern, but as you study the face it seems to soften and the sternness becomes sadness mingled with tenderness. One can imagine those worn and pallid features lighted up with excitement, the eyes animated and glowing with zeal, and the lips so expressive of power, relaxing into a smile even, and thus looking upon it we wonder not that crowds hung upon his words.
Hatred of sin, zeal for its removal from Church and State, seems to have been two of his strong characteristics. And he was ever bold and active in lifting up and carrying forward the standard of truth. If sometimes his zeal outran his wisdom and judgment, if sometimes his enthusiasm seemed to reach what we might call a religious frenzy in which he heard supernatural voices and saw visions, we can but believe in his sincerity and admire his boldness and commend his fearless exposure of sin. And as we study his character again and again we wonder as in the beginning of this sketch, how he would have acted in these days when sin “comes in like a flood!” Have we not need of a Savonarola? Have we not need of an army of strong, fearless men and women who shall lift up the standard of the Gospel against the tide of sin? One thought more: will each of my young readers enlist in this army and be diligent in preparing to meet the attacks of the enemy?
Faye Huntington.
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THORWALDSEN was a Danish sculptor. Returning from Italy to his native land, he brought a great number of lovely works of art, which he packed in straw. When unpacked, the straw was strewn about the streets, and it so happened that it contained a great many seed. These took root, and before long flowers were blooming in Copenhagen, from those very seed. Every hour we are scattering seed: see that it be the kind that shall grow beauteous flowers.
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Round the Family Lamp
My Dear Pansies:
The game for this Midsummer “month of evenings,” is one that I especially commend to you. It will be enjoyed so very much longer after it has been played, and years to come whenever you think of the happy hour it engrossed you, you will always be very glad that you and your little friends played it.
This is the game:
THE WHEELING PARTY.
All who have carriages, or wagons, and a faithful horse or two in the generous barns at home, ask your father or uncle if they will loan them to you for an hour after supper on a pleasant evening, that all the players may choose. Those who have no wagons, or anything that a horse could draw, need not be debarred from joining in this game; possibly they can contribute a large cart, that they could propel themselves or, a boy not easily baffled, might join the procession, with an improvised floor on wheels on which soft cushions are piled.
At any rate, let the procession be formed, of every “go-able vehicle,” superintended by careful drivers, and where the space admits, carrying happy, merry-voiced children to make the poor invalids forget their sufferings.
Invalids? Yes, indeed, this is the “Invalids Wheeling Party,” the blessedest invention of modern times. The “Shut-in Society” brought out for a breath of fresh air—God’s poor children, who for wise reasons of His, are serving Him in narrow rooms of want, now, by the kind hands of children, admitted to the sweet peace of the summer eventide.
Do you not know them—these patient invalids? living perhaps very near to you. There is the little lame boy—the washerwoman’s son, who when she goes out to her work, minds the baby, and tries in his poor way to help mother. “Dot-and-go-one” you and the other children perhaps call him.
Wouldn’t it vary proceedings a bit if you were to send him a little note, saying something like this:
Jimmy:Will you go to ride after supper with Frank and me?Egbert.
Jimmy:
Will you go to ride after supper with Frank and me?
Egbert.
Or, there is old Mrs. Clemens. She is not pleasant-looking, to be sure; snuffy and disagreeable in her ways also. But she has not stepped out of her cottage only to go as far as the woodpile in five years. Think of it! Suppose now Mrs. Clemens should find under her door some fine morning a little white note in which the old lady should read:
Dear Mrs. Clemens:Mary Alice Smith and I would like to give you a ride this evening after supper in my father’s wagon. I hope you can go.Susan Embury.
Dear Mrs. Clemens:
Mary Alice Smith and I would like to give you a ride this evening after supper in my father’s wagon. I hope you can go.
Susan Embury.
Don’t you suppose the Clemens cottage would be a new place all that day?
And so on. Even if you do not personally know who is needing these sweet country drives, some one will be brought to your notice on inquiry.
When the procession is formed, let some one lead who is intelligent, as to the choice of a delightful locality (for invalids like to see something new and pretty), and the best way for getting there.
Then while the greatest cheerfulness prevails let there be no unnecessary noise, I beseech you, for your guests are unaccustomed to excitement, and are easily wearied. There should be sweet attentions, little courtesies, and the feeling of real enjoyment of giving hospitality on your part, but all done and expressed quietly.
Try it, dear Pansies, this little game, and see if you do not often play it these lovely summer evenings. I doubt not you will enjoy it as much as the invited guests of “The Wheeling Party.”
M. S.
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birdsTHE BIRD OF PARADISE.
THE BIRD OF PARADISE.
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The P. S. Corner
Terms of Subscription.
The price ofThe Pansyis One Dollar a year. New subscriptions may begin with the volume (November issue), or with any number desired.The date following the subscriber’s name on the label shows the time to which the subscription is paid. Thus, Oct. ’87 means that the subscription is paid to and including the October, 1887, number.If no request to discontinue the magazine is received, it is understood that its continuance is desired. The magazine will, however, be stopped at any time, if the subscriber so desires, provided all arrearages are paid as required by law.If a change of address is desired, the OLD as well as the new must be given.Remittances may be made by Post Office Money Order, Draft, Bank Cheek, or American Express Money Order.D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Boston.
The price ofThe Pansyis One Dollar a year. New subscriptions may begin with the volume (November issue), or with any number desired.
The date following the subscriber’s name on the label shows the time to which the subscription is paid. Thus, Oct. ’87 means that the subscription is paid to and including the October, 1887, number.
If no request to discontinue the magazine is received, it is understood that its continuance is desired. The magazine will, however, be stopped at any time, if the subscriber so desires, provided all arrearages are paid as required by law.
If a change of address is desired, the OLD as well as the new must be given.
Remittances may be made by Post Office Money Order, Draft, Bank Cheek, or American Express Money Order.
D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Boston.
——————
Williefrom New York. My boy, I sent you the last badge a short time ago. I hope they are now all right. Let me hear from your society as often as you have anything interesting to tell us.
Escafrom Illinois. So you think you need more “sticktoativeness”! Good! Ever so many people do. I counted no less than ten different pieces of work which a boy of my acquaintance had commenced, and never finished. They were all worth finishing too. What a pity! Imagine a dress all done but the sleeves! Mammas do not work in that way; do they?
Maudefrom Nebraska. Your letter was not too long, my dear; I was interested in it all. I have known a number of wise small people who, like yourself, made a great deal of trouble for themselves and their best friends, by trying to have their own way. It is generally a foolish thing to do. You must remember that it is not only “poor people” who are in need of kind acts and words. Some of the most unhappy persons I ever met, had plenty of money. What they needed was sympathy, and a few gentle, helpful words.
Carriefrom Indian Territory. My dear Blossom, struggling with your little garden away off from us, how glad we were to hear from you! It is the same old story, though, which we hear from all over the country; cross little tongues, speaking words that hurt, and for which they are sorry afterwards, and all because Dame Passion gets hold of them, and for the time makes them her slaves! Little Pixie too has her troubles. It is very hard not to be selfish; especially if we are surrounded by grown people who have been at work for a long time, teaching us to be selfish, by giving up everything for our pleasure. And there is little brother Tippie, wanting his own way, dreadfully! What busy gardeners you will have to be working at all these weeds! If you were to sit down and let them grow, I am afraid your buds would soon be choked. I am glad you are not going to do this.
Ameliafrom Indian Territory. What a beautiful pledge you have taken! If you “do your duty in all things as long as you live,” you will be sure to be one of whom I can be always proud. I should like to hear from you often; and will always be glad to receive from you the history of some of your “kind words” spoken for Jesus’ sake.
Walterfrom New York. It was a grand idea to join us on your birthday. I think the “lessons” must have felt the influence of that pledge. To be as good a boy as one can, is promising a great deal, but not too much if one is in tremendous earnest, as I think you are. We enroll your name with pleasure.
Maryfrom Vermont. I like your pledge; so many people ask useless questions, wasting their time, and the patience of their friends, it is well to break the habit while you are young. A gentleman called on me the other day who had the same habit; he asked half a dozen questions, any one of which he might have answered for himself if he had used his eyes, and after sitting for half an hour, he turned to me and asked three of them over again!
Maryfrom New Hampshire. Your promise covers a great deal of ground. If you keep it,you will be a true woman as long as you live. I like your verses, and will print them inThe Pansyas soon as we have room. I hope you find your badge helpful.
Gracefrom New York. I could not have received the letter you mention. I am glad you wrote again. What a large pledge you have taken! To “do better in everything,” is surely worth one’s while. Your society needs no name but P. S. We are all branches of the great Pansy Society which reaches all over the country.
Sarahfrom New York. We are glad to welcome you; may you be successful in your efforts, as you surely will be if you live by the Whisper Motto.
Clarafrom Nebraska. I found your letter so full of helpful hints, my dear, that I have copied from it for the magazine. I am glad you find the badge a help.
Josephine,Josephine,Mary,Robbie, from New York. A bouquet of Blossoms pledged to do battle against the weeds in their heart-gardens. May you all succeed, and be fragrant flowers that shall give pleasure wherever you go, and bloom forever in the garden above. This is Pansy’s prayer for all her Blossoms.
Florencefrom Ohio. The author of “My Brainless Acquaintance” sends you thanks for your kind opinion of him. He will try to interest you again. I am glad you findThe Pansyhelpful in school. Look out for some lovely recitations in it.
Lilliafrom Connecticut. I hope the badges have been made right long ago. I do not remember about it now, but I suppose the delay came from getting out of badges. So many P. S. Blossoms sprang up at once all over the country, that the first we knew, they had gotten ahead of us. I am much interested in your society, and would like to hear from it again. I will quote from your letter for the magazine, that some other Pansies may get a hint from it how to employ their time.
Mabelfrom Dakota. You have a great deal of company, my dear Mabel, in the matter of wanting your own way. So that you are sure it is therightway, I don’t believe anybody will object. Shall I tell you how to be sure of getting it? Have your way alwaysexactlywhat will most honor Jesus.
Claudefrom New York. Yes, I was once in Castile, and at Miss Green’s; I loved her dearly, and owe her a great debt of gratitude. I shall certainly come and see you if I visit your town. I think I would like about a bushel of those “black caps.” So your hasty temper troubles you? Temper is a very good thing if we put it under the right Master. Take yours to Him, and ask Him to guard it for you.
Pearlfrom Indiana. My dear, I think you must have a lovely walk through the woods to school. I am glad you have decided to have nothing to do with cards; I once heard a good man say: “They belong to the enemy’s country; they gather under the flag which is a sign of rebellion to King Jesus, so I will have nothing to do with them.” I think that would be a very good rule for the Pansies to follow. Whatever Satan makes marked use of, to injure others, I will not touch.
Litafrom Illinois. I hope you will succeed in overcoming the fault. There is a sense in which it makes no difference whether or not I know its name. You know, and Jesus knows; but if the Pansies choose to tell us, it sometimes helps others.
Alice and Emmafrom Wisconsin. Since you are dear friends, and wrote me together, you will let me reply in the same way. I am glad to welcome you both to our P. S. Glad also to hear that you both love and serve the Lord Jesus. I hope your lives will be full of fragrance, and suggest His name to all who know you.
Jenniefrom Connecticut. I don’t know when I have enjoyed a story more than the pleasant one you wrote me about that industrious society. It told me a great many things; among others, that you have dear helpful mothers, and friends. What should we do in this world without the mothers who stand ready to help every effort of ours toward usefulness, or right living? I hope you heard from the dolls. Write and tell us how they were enjoyed.
Millyfrom Pennsylvania. What a very fine beginning of a library you have! I wish you had told us how you managed the books and what class of books you had. How do you raise your money? When you hear from some of those colored schools, will you tell us what they said to the help you sent them?
Hermonfrom Massachusetts. Prompt obedience is a very important habit to form. It is a pleasure to me to notice how many young people are resolved upon cultivating it. I think “Moses” has a responsible life to live if he is to do honor to his name. I am not sure but “Aaron” was wise in running away. At least, one can overlook running away from duty when it is only a dog; but what shall be said of a boy or girl who does the same?
Finicefrom Kentucky. Is that the right name? I am not sure. “Hard lessons” make a great deal of trouble in this world; but I know a secret about them: they become easy as soon as they are learned; so for one’s own sake it is worth while to overcome them. Sometimes, schoolmates are very provoking, and it is hard to keep one’s temper with them; but the boy or girl who does it soon acquires an influence over his mates that others cannot have. I hope you know where to look for help in keeping these pledges?
Fanniefrom Kentucky. Do you think “all” little girls would really like to overcome their faults? I have seen some young people whose gravest fault seemed to me to be that they cared very little about improving their habits, or getting control of their tongues or tempers. I welcome you as one who is not of that company.
Chesterfrom Oregon. A “treasurer” is a very important officer in the P. S., my boy, provided they have any money to care for; and most of the societies have. They contrive ways of earning money, to spend in benevolent work of some sort. It depends entirely on yourselves how you will raise money, to what you will devote it, and how you will manage your society. As a rule, the one who secures subscribers and starts a club, becomes president; but if he, or she, thinks some other person would make a better officer, one can be elected from the membership. I like your pledge. The truth is, a boy who has a good mother, and who always minds her promptly, is sure to be a boy to honor.
Loisfrom Kentucky. “Cross” words make a great deal of trouble in this world. Did you ever notice that they not only hurt the ones to whom they are spoken, and the ones who hear them, but also those who speak them! What a pity to cling to a habit which hurts in every direction! I am glad you are going to be free.
Lillie,Edna,Harry,Walter,Rose,Thad, from Kansas. A full bouquet which bloomed together! We welcome you, every one. Let me see what weeds are to be rooted out; “Getting angry and answering back,” “Forgetting work,” “Carelessness,” “Speaking cross words,” “Being too noisy.” Just imagine what earnest work will have to be done in getting rid of all these choking weeds! Besides these, one Blossom is going to keep careful watch over a set of pearls which have been given her for her own use. She knows that if she takes proper care of them they will be beautiful and helpful all her life; and that if she neglects them, they will become her enemies. I wish you all great success, and will hope to hear from you.
Freddiefrom New York. So you have a watch to prove to you what a little persevering work will accomplish? Good! The people who get discouraged seldom accomplish much. I hope your temper will, after this, keep as good time as your watch; and that you will be as prompt to follow orders asitis to tick. My boy, you have a special work to do for your mother, in trying to fill your dear father’s place as much as you can. I hope you will be one of her greatest blessings.
Mattie and Philemonfrom Georgia. A “careless” Blossom and an “impatient” one starting together! Good! I fancy that the careless ways may sometimes provoke the impatient words; and so you two can surely help each other. We shall hope to hear of your great success.
Frankfrom Massachusetts. “Kind words” are needed everywhere, my boy; but I do not know that they will do more good anywhere than at school among the scholars. I have often wondered at the rough words I heard floating out on the air as I passed playgrounds. If one boy sets an example of kindness and courtesy to all the young people around him, who can tell how the habit may spread, and cause many Blossoms to spring up?
Davenportfrom Massachusetts. Glad to welcome you; I hope your badge is helping you in all the ways in which you need help. Thank your kind sister for writing in your name. I think she is a very excellent writer for one soyoung. Let me hear what you are doing, in which your badge has been a help.
Arthurfrom New Jersey. Ever so many people “don’t want to do the thing which they ought next to do.” Did you know that? the great difference between them is, that some people seize hold of the thing they didn’t want to do, and do it; while some growl around, or whine around, and leave it undone as long as they can. I am glad to know you are, from this time, to belong to the first class.
Robbiefrom New York. I am very glad to welcome you to the P. S. I am much interested in the club of which you are a member, and would be glad to hear from it from time to time. You did not give me the special habit which you are trying to conquer, but I suppose you know, very well, which it is, and are doing brave work over it.
Florencefrom New York. When you “get the better” of your temper, and are its mistress instead of being controlled by it, what a happy Blossom you will be! Some people do not think this can be done, but I am sure it can by any one who truly wishes to do so, and seeks and finds the right sort of help.
Kimballfrom Illinois. Welcome to our garden. “Talking back” is a weed which chokes many flowers; quite hides their sweetness oftentimes. Root it out. Thank you for the kind invitation. I should like to accept it, but fear I will not have time. Will you give my love to grandma, and all the dear ones, and thank them for their kind words to me?
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Dear Pansy:
I would like to become a member of the P. S. I am a little girl seven years old. My mamma is an invalid and I am hands and feet for her as she sits in her invalid chair. I have a brother and sister in Heaven.
My little sister Nellie was four years and a half old when she died. She would have made a good member of the P. S., for mamma says she took for her motto in everything, “For Jesus’ sake.” One day, before she was sick, she said to mamma, “Me do love Jesussomuch, mamma, me want to go see Him, and sing praise to Him.” Then she would hold out her little arms, as though she was reaching up to some one, and ask mamma when she thought God would send for her. One morning after looking at a sunrise, she said, “Mamma, it looks like the golden streets of Heaven.” I wanted to write to you about this little sister, for I thought she would have made such a dear little Pansy. Now she is a Blossom in God’s garden.
I live on a farm, but it is right by a little village. I play with lambs, and ducks, and calves. My chickens follow me around and get under my feet sometimes, so I can scarcely walk. I can pick them up and pat them, any time. I wish to overcome two bad habits: selfishness and whining. I had a gold ring to help me keep from whining; I had it last fall, and it cured me until this spring; then the habit come back so bad I had to give mamma the ring. Now I am going to try what the badge and motto will do. I’ve tried the motto before, and italwayshelped. But someway, dear Pansy, I do not always keep hold of the Help. Mamma says she thinks it might do grown people good to belong to a Pansy Society. We have a great many of your books in our home. Mamma gets a new one every year; we lend them to people to read. I hope I have not tired you with my letter.
Yours, truly and lovingly,Blanche Perkins.
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Dear Pansy:
We are two little brothers away down in Va. We have takenThe Pansyfor four years. We like it more and more, and we love you very much. We have two bad habits. We don’t keep things in place and we dispute with each other. We found a bumblebee’s house in a part of an old barn. It had fifteen apartments and two ways of entering them. The doors were little round caps which looked something like stiff, dark brown paper. Our love for you and all the Blossoms.
Your little Pansies,Davis Wilson.R. P. Wilson.
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Dear Pansy:
The boys in our society are making banners and books for the children in the hospital. Thegirls are sewing dresses for the little orphans who are found; they have hardly any clothes to cover them when they are found. Our Sunday-school teacher has taken a great deal of interest in our society. She has given us twenty-three books, and a great many cards. We have learned a good many missionary hymns from the cards. We have a library of sixty-three books; and a friend is going to give us some more. We meet every Saturday at my house; we are going to use our money to help provide schools for little colored children. There are about thirty members of our society. We all want to see you; we wish you would come and visit us. We will be much obliged to see you any Saturday between half-past two and half-past five. I must bid you good-by.
Your faithful friend,Milly.