Part 2

There were tears in her mother's eyes as she bent her head and kissed Patty's forehead, saying tenderly, "Yes, dear, for your very own."

Wednesday came—a bright, beautiful day. Patty's first words to her mother were, "O mamma! this is the day that my dolly is coming. O mamma! I believe I'll get well quick when dolly comes."

Mrs. Sticht did not like to leave home that morning for some reason, but she felt that she must, for the rent was nearly due, and the doctor who came to see the child cared more for filling his pockets than for filling human hearts with thankfulness. She came home very weary, but with one glad thought, namely, "I suppose Patty is overjoyed with her pretty doll. How good of Miss Stella to think of my poor little one!"

But as she stepped over her own threshold, a very weary little face greeted her. Patty's cheeks were flushed, and she said brokenly, "O mamma, my dolly didn't come."

"An' she wouldn't stop cryin', mamma, an' my head aches," sobbed Tim, who was worn out by his sister's day of bitter sorrow.

Mrs. Sticht did not go to bed that night. She watched beside restless Patty, who tossed about all night, talking about blue eyes and golden hair and blue silk dresses, moaning in her sleep, "An' my dolly didn't come; an' my sweet, sweet dolly didn't come."

Monday morning came. A little boy stood knocking at Mrs. Morse's kitchen door. Stella opened it. "Mamma can't wash to-day, Patty's tuk worse," he said quickly, and then scampered away.

"Oh, what a shame that I haven't dressed that doll!" Stella said mentally. "I certainly meant to, but there were so many things to take up my attention that I kept putting it off. I'll dress it this very day."

Tuesday morning Stella, with the beautiful, tastefully dressed doll in her arms, and a little bag of oranges also, started for Mrs. Sticht's. In answer to her rap, Mrs. Sticht opened the door. Her eyes were heavy with weeping and her face had grown more aged.

"How is little Patty this morning, Mrs. Sticht? I've brought her the doll. Can I see her?" were Stella's rapid questions.

"Yes, Miss Stella, you can see her. Walk in, please."

There was anguish and reproof in the mother's tone; Stella stepped inside the poorly furnished room; the mother led the way to one corner, and pointed to a little white-draped cot.

The terrible truth dawned upon Stella. She had come too late. Patty was dead. She burst into tears as the sobbing, broken-hearted mother uncovered the little still face. Through her tears Stella could see how beautiful Patty was, with her golden hair brushed back from a pretty forehead, and her dear little hands clasped over her still bosom.

"And did you tell her I would bring the doll? Did she look for it?" Stella moaned, her remorseful tears rolling down her cheeks like rain.

"'Look for it!' Yes, Miss Stella, she looked for it day and night," Mrs. Sticht answered huskily. "She was very light-headed toward the last; she talked of nothin' else. Just before she died her reason returned. She sat up in bed, an' put her arms around my neck an' said, 'Good-by, mamma; I'm goin' to heaven.' I cried aloud, but Patty smoothed my cheek, and said, 'Don't cry, mamma, you'll come by and by, an' I'll be waitin' and lovin' my blue-eyed dolly, 'cause I know Jesus will give me one, 'cause there's no tears in heaven.'"

GRANDMOTHER'S DARLINGS.

"TO-MORROW will be grandma's eightieth birthday," said one of the children, "and we must make her just as happy as can be."

"What shall we do?" said another.

"Send her a long letter—four pages of foolscap—and a nice present," answered the first.

"Agreed!" said they all; and away they go among the stores on Main street. But this will not do, and grandma doesn't care for that; she has so many presents already it will be hard to find any thing fresh and good for her unless they buy something rare and costly; but she wouldn't be pleased to have so much money laid out for her, and the "children" can't afford it.

But one has a bright thought. "Grandma dearly loves flowers; let's get her a plant or two, they will not cost very much."

So they hurry from the stores to the greenhouse, for it must go out by the very next mail.

"How sweet!" they all exclaim as they enter. "See those roses! How moist and green and summery it is here!" Surely so! for the beauty and breath of ten thousand flowers that the Lord had made, that moment were there.

A marguerite and a begonia full of buds are soon bought, and the kind greenhouse man asks but a trifle for them. Does he know that they are going to grandma, and that she will take good care of the darlings? Maybe he has no grandma.

Home they hurry with their two treasures, and they tuck them away in a nice, new, clean pasteboard box. They look like two dear babies put to sleep in their crib.

Now a strong string is tied about the box, then a paper over that, and another string, and grandma's name and post-office are carefully written upon it. And just across the street is honest old uncle Samuel, or Sam, as most folks call him, but he was called that way when he was born. He is always ready to run on certain kinds of errands, and this is one of them. So he will carry the flowers and the big foolscap letter too, all the way to grandma—nearly a hundred miles—for fifteen cents! Very cheap, you see. But that's his way, and he makes a good living because he's never idle like some folks who won't work unless they get the highest wages.

On and on and on he hurries to carry your message, and he goes just as cheerfully and cheaply a thousand miles for you as one. How like Jesus, who came so far to bring us good tidings of great joy; only that he didn't charge any thing at all, and he would have come and died all the same, if there hadn't been but one poor sinner in all the world to be saved!

But uncle Samuel is there now. Can't you see him hand it out to grandma?

How she wonders who sent it, and what it is. There! She has her scissors, and she says, "Stand away, children, till I see what is in this pretty box!" Then "snap, snap," go the scissors, and away fly the cords, and she lifts the cover off carefully, and there the two darlings are sleeping as soundly as babies.

And they all gather around grandma, and exclaim, and try to help her wake them up softly and lift the sweet dears from their crib.

There they are now, looking out of the window, happy as two queens.

Every morning they lift up their faces and smile as soon as the sun rises in the east over the sea. And when grandma comes and sprinkles them all over with clean, cool water, they smile and say, "Thank you!" as well as they can.

They make grandma very happy; more happy than if the children had sent her a piano or silk dress.

Can't you send your grandma, or somebody's grandma a rose, or something?

"CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES."

"I'LL just go down by the lake, mamma, and wait until you are ready."

"But, Rollo, remember you are dressed in white, and it soils very easily; don't go where you will get any stains."

"I won't, mamma, I'll be ever so careful."

This was the talk they had as Rollo, in his newest white suit, and brilliant red stockings and fresh sailor hat, kissed his hand to his mother and tripped out of the gate. Ten minutes more and he expected to be oft to the park to hear the lovely music, and see the swans and the monkeys.

It was less than ten minutes when he came back in just the plight which you see in the picture. One shoe off, one elastic gone, his bright red-stocking torn and hanging, himself covered from head to foot with mud. How could a boy have done so much mischief to himself in so short a time! If only Rollo had had a reputation for being careful, she would have surely stopped to hear his story; but, alas for him! A more heedless boy never lived than this same Rollo. Still, this was worse than usual; so much worse that the mother decided on the instant that he must have a severe lesson.

"Rollo," she said in her coldest tone, "you may go at once to Hannah and have her put your every-day suit on, then you may go to my room and stay until I return."

"But, mamma," said Rollo, his face in a quiver, his lips trembling so that he could hardly speak.

But she passed him on the stairs without a word.

He called after her:

"Mamma, oh, mamma! Won't you please to listen to me?"

Then she said.

"Rollo, you may obey me immediately, and I do not wish to hear a word."

In a very few minutes after that the carriage rolled away, stopped at Mrs. Merrivale's and took up Helen and her mother, then on to the park.

You needn't suppose Rollo's mother enjoyed it. She seemed to care nothing for the park; she hardly glanced at the swans, and did not go near the monkeys. All the time she missed a happy little face and eager voice that she had expected to have with her. Miss Helen Merrivale was another disappointed one. Had not she and Rollo planned together this ride to the park? Now, all she could learn from his mother was that Rollo was detained at the last minute. She did not intend to tell the Merrivales that her careless little boy seemed to grow more careless every day; and how she felt that she must shut her ears to his pitiful little explanations, which would amount to nothing more than he "didn't mean to at all," and was "so sorry."

The mother believed that she had done right nevertheless she was lonely and sad. They came home earlier than they had intended. As they passed Mrs. Sullivan's pretty cottage she was standing at the gate with Mamie in her arms, and out she came to speak to them.

"You haven't the dear little fellow with you," she said eagerly, her lips trembling. "I wanted to kiss him, the darling, brave boy. O, Mrs. Grey, I hope and trust that he did not get hurt in any way?"

"Who?" said Mrs. Grey wonderingly. "My Rollo! Oh, no, he isn't hurt. Why? Did you hear of any accident?"

"Didn't he tell you? Didn't anybody tell you? Why, Mrs. Grey, if it hadn't been for your brave little Rollo—I shiver and grow cold all over when I think where my baby would be now! She climbed into the boat; it was locked, but she tried to sit down at the farther end, and she lost her balance and pitched head first into the lake. Rollo saw her, your little Rollo, he was the only one around; and I don't know how he did it, and he such a little bit of a fellow. He climbed over the side of the boat and reached after her; he stepped right in that deep mud and got stuck, and the little man had sense enough to unbutton his shoe and leave it sticking there, and wade out after baby. He saved her, I'm sure I don't know how, nobody seems to know, but he tugged her out and laid her on the bank, all unconscious, you know, and we thought she was dead, but she is as well as ever, and O, Mrs. Grey, isn't there any thing I can do for the blessed boy?"

"John," said Mrs. Grey, "drive home as fast as possible."

Up the steps she ran, gave the bell a furious pull, and dashed past the little nurse-girl to her own room like a comet.

"Where is Rollo?" she said breathlessly to Hannah.

"He's asleep now, ma'am. He cried as though his heart would break, and was a long time getting, comforted; but finally I got him dressed and coaxed him to take a nap, and there's been half the town here this afternoon to inquire how he is."

She didn't believe in disturbing sleeping boys as a rule, but she picked this one right out of his bed and carried him, half smothered with kisses, to her rocking-chair, and sat down to laugh and cry over him and kiss him. Only half awake he was at last, still grasping the big orange that Hannah had given him, when mamma, giving him more kisses, said:

"Dear little brave boy, will you forgive mamma for all the sorrow of this afternoon?"

Then he rubbed his eyes and looked at her wonderingly, and patted her cheek, and said:

"You mean you will forgive me? You will, won't you? I truly didn't mean to get wet and dirty."

How many kisses do you suppose he had then? As for Mrs. Sullivan, she hasn't found enough yet to do for Rollo, though she keeps doing nice little things all the time.

NOBLE AND TRICKSY.

TWO dogs they were, and I am about to tell you a true story concerning them. Tricksy belonged to little Robbie Parker, and was one of the nicest dogs I ever knew. Robbie thought so; he came to his mother almost every night with a fresh story of the fellow's goodness.

"It is a pity he has such a dishonorable name," the mother said. "I don't like tricky people."

"O, mamma!" would Robbie say. "He is only a dog; but then I know he wouldn't do any thing mean."

In the course of time, Robbie's older brother Nelson, became the owner of the wickedest looking little dog that over yelped. If you want to know just how he looked, here is his picture.

What Nelson saw in the little wretch to please him, it would be hard to say; and of all things, he was named Noble!

If the names could have been turned about, and "Tricksy" given to him, I think it would have suited every one but Nelson.

He was a queer fellow, and certainly he had many tricks. Brave old Tricksy took kindly to him, and used to frolic with him in a dignified way, and whether it was that being with the little scamp so much he learned some of his ways or not, I do not know, but certain it is that the funny thing I am going to tell you, actually happened.

There was nothing that the little scamp named "Noble" liked better than to have a race with old Tricksy around the great trees on the lawn. Yes, perhaps there was one thing that he liked almost as well, and that was, to curl himself on a certain cushion that before he came, had been the large dog's special property.

So sure as the old dog left it for a minute to do an errand, or to attend to any of his duties, up the little scamp would jump and be in possession. Good old Tricksy stood it patiently a good many times, but at last one day he evidently thought out a way to manage the little new comer. It was just after a hearty dinner, and it was a chilly day, and a cosy nap on the warm cushion, I suppose, looked most inviting to both dogs. The little one was ahead, as usual, and the old dog sat clown by the stove to think about it. At last he got up, moved gravely towards the door leading to the lawn, then turned around to the little dog and said as plainly as dog-language would admit:

"Come on, then, if you want a race."

Down jumped the little dog in a perfect flutter of delight, and wagged his tail, and barked his short, sharp barks that said "Oh, good, good!" and ran to the door.

What did our grave old dog do but turn around very quickly, spring to the bench behind the stove, curl himself on the cushion, and go to sleep, leaving the disappointed younger one to bear the loss of his frolic and his cushion, as best he might!

"He has earned his name!" somebody said, laughing. "O, Tricksy, Tricksy! We can never say you ought to be called 'Noble' any more."

But what do you think Robbie did? Instead of being delighted with the sharpness of his dear old dog, he burst into tears.

"Why, Robbie!" mamma said. "What is the matter?"

Then Robbie wailed forth his heart-breaking question:

"Was it wicked, mamma? Tricksy didn't know any better; he is only a dog."

"Of course it was wicked!" Nelson declared in his most teasing tone. "My good little Noble wouldn't think of doing such a cheating thing."

Whether mamma wanted to comfort Robbie or whether she thought Nelson needed the lesson; or whether it was a little of both reasons that made her speak just then, I will not stop to tell you, but what she said was:

"He may have been led astray by bad example. I wonder if it can be possible that he saw a boy take his slate and book under his arm yesterday and walk towards the stairs as if he were going to the library to study, then dodge out at the side door, hide his books under a rose-bush, and run off to play marbles with the boys?"

Not a word said Nelson; his cheeks grew red, and he looked down and fumbled with his watch-chain. Do you think his mother could have meant him?

GIESSBACH.

THE two girls squealed with delight over the picture. "Just see! three falls, one on top of the other!" declared Fannie. "Oh dear me! How I should like to see them! You can't tell any thing by looking at a picture."

Tom came and looked over their shoulders.

"Where is the thing?" he asked.

"Why, it is that wonderful Giessbach fall in Switzerland that Mr. Warder told us about. He said it was just the loveliest view in all Switzerland; and he promised aunt Kate a picture of it. But pictures are the most unsatisfactory things! I want to see the color of the rocks, and the little ferns and bushes growing about, and hear the water dashing. But I don't suppose I ever shall see or hear any such things. I expect to fly, just as much as I expect to go to Switzerland."

"You needn't go to Switzerland to see a grand waterfall," declared Tom. "I don't believe Giessbach with its horrible name, is any finer than Cheyenne Cañon fall, that I stood under only last week. I tell you, Fannie, that was a sight! Three falls, distinct from each other, yet all tumbling into one at the bottom, and making the grandest kind of white foam. I stood as close to it as I do to you, and the spray came all over my face. Then we went up the mountain and looked down on it all. How many falls do you think we saw then? Seven of them, all roaring down together. That was a sight to remember, and we didn't have to go abroad for it, either. You can just make up your mind, Fannie, that there are about as grand things to look at in our own country as can be found anywhere."

But Fannie was in the mood to grumble:

"Oh, well, one might as well go abroad as to go to Colorado; I don't expect ever to be able to go there, either."

"Humph!" said Tom. "Neither did I expect to; I could have imagined myself in the moon as well as in Colorado, three weeks before I went; yet I went, and so may you. People can't ever tell what may happen to them. You just remember that when you do go, there is one place to see; the falls of Cheyenne Cañon. People who have seen both, say that there is nothing grander in Switzerland than they get up in that cañon."

Cora, meantime, had been listening in silence, gazing with thoughtful, far-away eyes at the picture. At last she spoke:

"Tom, what did you think of when you stood looking up at the wonderful foamy water coming down from so high a place?"

Tom's face flushed a little.

"People think different things," he said, laughing. "As I stood there looking at it, I said, 'What a grand place that would be for a shower bath. I'd just like to go and stand under it, and take a good one.' There was a little chap stood by me, a pale-faced fellow with blue eyes, who had taken off his cap and stared up without speaking, for ten minutes. Just then he turned to me and said:"

"'I've been thinking how easy it must be for God to make wonderful things! Here he has made all this white water and tumbled it down from away up in heaven—that is the way it looks—just for the sake of giving these old still rocks something bright to play with.'"

"Wasn't that a poetical thought? Sounds like you, Cora. It made me think of you at the time."

A BIT OF LOGIC.

RUFUS lay at full length on the sofa, and puffed a cigar, back parlor though it was; when Mr. Parker reminded him of it, he said there were no ladies present, and puffed away. Between the puffs he talked:

"There is one argument against foreign mission work which is unanswerable; the country cannot afford it. Two millions and a half of money taken out this year, and sent to the cannibals, or somewhere else. No country can stand such a drain as that upon it, with everything else it has to do. Foreign missions are ruinously expensive."

The two young sisters of Rufus, Kate and Nannie, stood on the piazza and laughed.

"O Rufus!" said Kate. "You won't take a prize in college for logic, I'm sure."

"What do you mean, little monkey? And 'what do you know about logic?"

"More than you do I should think. Just imagine the country not being able to afford two millions and a half for missions, when just a few years ago it paid over four millions for Havana cigars. Have you thought of that, Rufus?"

"And I wonder how much champagne is a bottle?" chimed in Nannie. "How much is it, Rufus? You know about ten million bottles are used every year. And oh! why, Rufus, don't you know that we spend about six millions for dogs! Something besides foreign missions might be given up to save money, I should think."

"Where did you two grow so wise? Where did you get all those absurd items?"

"We got them at the Mission Band; Kate is secretary, and I'm treasurer, and these figures were all in the dialogue that Dr. Stephens wrote for us to recite. If you choose to call what he says absurd, I suppose you can; but he is a graduate from a college, and a theological seminary, beside. I mean to tell him that you think two millions and a half for foreign missions, will ruin the country; I want to hear him laugh." And then the two girls laughed merrily.

"You needn't tell him anything about it," said Rufus sharply. After the girls ran away, he added thoughtfully:

"How fast girls grow up! I thought those two were children; and here they are with the Mission Bands, and their large words about 'secretaries and treasurers.'"

"And their embarrassing facts about money," interrupted Mr. Parker. "Those girls had the best of the argument, Rufus;" and then he too laughed.

INTERLAKEN.

INTERLAKEN means between the lakes, and is the name of a village in Switzerland. It is situated between two lakes called Thun and Brienz. All you geography scholars will be able to turn to it in your minds, or if not so, on your maps. The village is in a plain and on the river Aare, and you have in the picture a view of the bridge across the river. The people who live at Interlaken lead quite uneventful lives, gaining the means of living by carving toys in all sorts of quaint devices, which are sold in the shops which line the principal streets. The wonderful scenery brings large numbers of visitors to the place, and these visitors are the purchasers of the curiosities of the shops.

Large quantities of Swiss lace and Swiss carving find its way to the United States in the trunks of American travellers; and I have no doubt that when you visit Europe you will bring away a quantity of the work of these same Interlaken lace-makers and carvers. However you may set your face against the folly, you will be sure to find some things which you must have.

The scenery in this valley is among the finest in Switzerland. From the windows of some of the pensions or boarding-houses, you may get a view of the celebrated "Jungfrau." Do you know that Jungfrau means "the maiden?" There seems to be a dispute as to the origin of the name. Some say it was given to this lofty peak because of the spotless purity of appearance on account of the unsullied snow which always covers its summit. The view which you get of the Jungfrau at Interlaken is through an opening in the range of lower mountains that lie at the base of the grand old mountain itself, which is nearly fourteen thousand feet high. I believe that the first to reach the top was a party of natives of the valley, in 1828.

Soon after a scientific expedition, accompanied by the renowned Agassiz, made the ascent. You will find within a few miles of the village of Interlaken many points of wild and picturesque beauty, and you will want to visit the waterfall Staubbach, which means "sky born," and is one of the highest in Europe.

WHITE AND CLEAN.

"C-H-E-S-T-E-R!" It was his mother's voice, and it rang out from her room in the second story. "Only half an hour until school-time."