Part 4

“I would ’a’ went to hell,” said the girl.

“Would Gawd ’a’ been jest in sendin’ you to hell?”

“No, sah!” exclaimed the applicant. Many of the hearers laughed. The preacher raised his hand and said:

“Don’t laff; don’t laff; de chile is young yit, an’ she’s got to learn.”

Then by a series of leading questions, mainly concerning parental government, the old pastor brought the child around to the point where she saw, or where she was willing to say that she saw, that it was just for God to send people to hell.

“Do you want to jine dis church?” continued the questioner.

“Yes, sah,” said the applicant.

“Dis is a Baptis’ church, you know,” explained the pastor; “we baptize hyeah by putting people deep down undah de watah. Ain’t you sheered uv cole watah in de wintah time?”

“Watah can’t git too cole fur me,” said the little girl, “I got de grace uv Gawd in my heart.”

The people fairly whooped at this (as in their superstition they supposed) supreme manifestation of faith.

The pastor then turned to the congregation and said:

“Is dah any uddah questions?”

An old brother near the stove arose and said:

“Bruddah Pastur, I ain’t hyeahed de chile say whar she was at w’en de change took place.”

Queen Victoria responded:

“I was at de Bridge Street church las’ Friday night.”

The old brother nodded, as if completely satisfied with the answer. Then he asked:

“How long is you willin’ to trus’ dis hope?”

“Tell I dies,” said the applicant. Down sat the questioner.

“Any mo’ questions?” asked the pastor.

A sister stood.

“Honey,” she said, “is you got any parrunts livin’?”

“Yas’m,” was the reply; “my ma an’ my pa is both livin’, an’ dey’s both out in de ole fiel’ uv sin.”

“Lawd ’a’ mussy!” exclaimed several of the hearers. The sister who asked the question sat bathed in tears.

A brother in the rear arose and said:

“I has a question dat I wants to ax: I wants to know, daughtah, ef you was convertid at de Bridge Street church, huccom you wants to jine dis church?”

“De Speerit sent me to dis church,” exultantly exclaimed the girl.

“Glory to Gawd!” said the pastor. “Bless de Lamb!” exclaimed someone else. “Honah! Honah! Honah!” hallooed many others, and there was a general shout.

The examination ended, two sisters came forward and took Queen Victoria into the anteroom. When the applicant had been carried out a brother arose, the same pompous individual who had originally announced the house in “ordah an’ ready fur business.” Clearing his throat, he said:

“Bruddah Pastur, I sho b’lieves dis is de works uv grace.” There was a loud chorus of “Amens.” “An’ I motions,” continued the speaker, “ef I kin git a secon’, dat she be ’ceptid ez er candidate fur baptism, an’ on baptism ’come a full membah uv dis church.”

“Secon’ de motion!” “Secon’ de motion!” exclaimed several at one and the same time.

The motion was put and carried. Queen Victoria was brought in once more. The pastor informed her of the unanimous vote of the church, and instructed her to be ready for baptism the following Sunday night. Then the meeting adjourned, the members singing as they dispersed:

“Ole sheep, you know de road, Ole sheep, you know de road, Ole sheep, you know de road, Young lambs mus’ learn de way.”

XIV. GOING WITH THE CROWD.

“But all the girls went, mother. I didn’t like to be the only one left out. Besides, when I said I wouldn’t go they all laughed at me and said that I was a coward.”

It was Wednesday morning, before school time, and Anna was dreading to go back to school—dreading to meet her teacher. The day before a circus had been in town. At recess, while the children were on the playground, they heard the noise of the band, and one of the girls said:

“Let’s go and see the parade.”

“All right,” said Anna. “I’ll go and ask the teacher if we may.”

“No; don’t ask her—she might say no. We can get back before the bell rings, and she will never know that we left the grounds.”

Anna and one or two other girls held back. They all knew that it was against the rules to go off the playground at recess without permission.

“Oh, come on! Come on!” insisted one of the girls. “You’re afraid; you’re afraid! Come on! Don’t be such a coward; all the rest are going.”

And so Anna went.

When the girls saw the parade pass one point they wanted to see it once more, and away they went through the cross street to get to another corner ahead of the procession. School was forgotten; and when they did remember, recess time was long past and it was too late to go back.

The next morning, as Anna stood in the kitchen talking it over with her mother, her little heart was very heavy. She knew she had done wrong; she dreaded to go to school; and she was very unhappy.

“Perhaps,” said her mother, “if you had been brave about not going, the other girls would have stayed on the school grounds too. Or, if you had asked the teacher, I think she would have let you all go. But whether she did or not, it is never safe to do a thing just because ‘all the rest do it.’ Going with the crowd is not a good plan unless you are sure that the crowd is going in the right direction. The only wise thing for you to do is to be sure you are right, and then stick to it and never mind what the crowd does.”

“I didn’t mean to do wrong,” said Anna, as the tears started in her eyes.

“I know that, my dear,” said her mother, “but you were more afraid of being teased than you were of doing wrong. I hope you will remember from this day forward that the brave girl is not the girl who dares to do wrong, but the brave girl is the one who does what she knows to be right, in spite of the taunts and jeers of her playmates.”

“What shall I tell my teacher?” asked Anna in a low voice, as she dropped her head.

“Oh,” said her mother, kissing her, “you go right straight to your teacher and tell her that you have done wrong, and that you are sorry for it. Ask her to let you say so to the whole school. Be sure to beg her pardon, and promise not to do so again.”

Little Anna did as her mother told her. That afternoon, when she came back from school, she ran into her mother’s arms and said:

“Mother, I’m so happy. Teacher forgave me, and I mean to be good.”

And the smile on Anna’s face spoke plainly of a happy heart.

XV. MARY AND HER DOLLS.

Was there ever a time when the first doll was born? Was there ever a time when little boys and girls, especially little girls, did not love dolls and did not have something of that nature to play with? It would appear that dolls, or playthings somewhat like unto dolls, are as old as babies themselves—that is to say, boys and girls, that ever since there have been little children in the world there have been little things for them to play with. And I never saw a sane person in my life who regrets that it is so. It is not only amusing, it is inspiring to see the little children making merry with their dolls and their toy animals and their little express wagons and their wooden guns and their toy steam engines and their whistles and their balloons and their brownies and their jumping-jacks and their hobby-horses and a hundred and one other things.

Mary had put away her dolls for the night and was cleaning the doll house when papa came in.

“How many doll babies have you now, Mary?” he asked.

“I have five dolls now, papa,” said Mary, “but only one is a baby—that is little Flossie. Robbie and Nell are three years old now; Mattie is two and Jerusha is one year old. Flossie is now the only little baby.”

The Rev. Dr. Smithson smiled.

“Well,” he said after a time, “five dolls make a big family, I think.”

“I don’t,” said Mary quickly. “Rolla Mays has thirteen girls and two boys in her doll family, and I haven’t but five in all!”

“I shouldn’t think,” said Dr. Smithson, “that Rolla would know what to do with so many.”

“Why, papa, of course she does!”

“Mary,” said Dr. Smithson, looking thoughtfully at his little daughter, “I have a little girl in my Sunday school class who hasn’t a single doll. I thought you might like to give her one of yours. You could spare one—couldn’t you?”

“Oh, papa, I couldn’t—not a one,” exclaimed Mary.

“Not one—when this poor little girl hasn’t any?”

“Oh, papa, I love my dolls so—how can I give them away?”

“You’d have four left—wouldn’t that be enough?”

Mary thought a long while before speaking. She looked distressed.

“Papa,” she said at last, “Mrs. Grant was over here the other day, and she said that she wished you and mamma would give me to her because she didn’t have any little girl of her own. You’ve got five children yourself, papa—but would you give any of ’em away just because you would have four left?”

Dr. Smithson took his little daughter in his arms and kissed her.

“No, dear,” he said; “papa wouldn’t give any one of his children away. You may keep all of your dollies, and we’ll think of some other way to help poor little Hattie.”

The next morning Mary said:

“Papa, I have thought it all out for Hattie. You know I have been saving up a little money to buy me a little iron bank—but I can wait for that. I have saved up fifty cents—don’t you think that will be enough to buy a nice little dolly for Hattie, and let me keep my babies?”

Dr. Smithson knew that Mary had long been planning for the bank. So he asked:

“Are you quite sure that you want to spend your money in this way?”

“Yes, papa, I’m very sure,” said Mary with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

Dr. Smithson and Mary bought Hattie a pretty doll. Hattie was overjoyed when she saw it. Mary went back home, glad that her papa had understood how she loved her dolls, and glad to find that not one of her beloved children was missing.

XVI. JAKY TOLBERT’S PLAYMATES.

“Well, Johnnie, where are you going this morning?” asked Mrs. Jones as her little boy started towards the gate.

“I’m goin’ over to Jaky’s, mamma; you know I must go over to Jaky’s every day.”

“What do you find at Jaky’s to make you so anxious to go over there every day almost before you are out of bed good?”

“Oh, mamma, Jaky has the nicest playmates over to his house you ’most ever saw.”

“Who else goes over to Jaky’s besides you?” asked Mrs. Jones.

“Jaky don’t have no reg’lar visitor but me,” said Johnnie proudly. “Me an’ Jaky is the whole thing.”

“Well, you are saying a good deal for yourself when you say that Jaky has the nicest playmates in the world—don’t you think so?”

“I didn’t mean me,” explained Johnnie. “Jaky’s playmates ain’t folks at all. Jaky’s playmates is animals—just animals, but I do believe that they have got as much sense as some folks I know.”

“What kind of animals?” asked Mrs. Jones, becoming interested.

Then Johnnie went on to explain. He said:

“Jaky’s got chickens and dogs and cats and birds. He’s got names for all of ’em, and they all know their names and they just run to Jaky when he calls them. The chickens and birds, too, will just walk right up and eat out of Jaky’s hand. And his trained dogs and cats are just the funniest things I ever saw. His little dog, Trip, can carry a gun and obey the commands, “Carry arms!” “Present arms!” “Parade rest!” just like a little soldier. One time at a fair he saw trained dogs and horses, elephants, and even lions. Then he decided that he would train some animals himself. And, mamma, he has done well. Why, he’s got a cat that can spell some words. Jaky printed some letters of the alphabet on separate cards, and he’s got a cat that will pick out the right ones every time. One of his little dogs can play the fiddle. It may seem strange, but he certainly can do it. He can hold the fiddle, and draw the bow across it just the right way, and he can play a little tune. Jaky calls it a dog tune, and I think he ought to know.

“You just ought to see Jaky’s chickens—he’s got six of ’em. He calls them and they all come running. Then he holds out his arm, and calls them by name, and they will jump up on his little arm, one after the other, and will sit there until Jaky tells them to jump down. And Jaky is so kind to his two birds that they won’t fly away when he lets them out of their cages for a little while. He can take them up in his arms and pat them gently, and then he puts them down, and they will lie still right by Jaky until Jaky calls them by name and tells them to go into the house—that is, I mean, into their cages.

“By the way, mama, I forgot to tell you. Jaky is getting up an animal show, and he says that I am to be his manager. He’s going to print the cards to-day. He’s going to call his circus, “JAKY TOLBERT’S GREAT ANIMAL SHOW—THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH,” and he’s going to make me the manager of his circus. Won’t that be fine? You’ll come and see it—won’t you? We’re going to charge only one cent for you to come in. Oh, it’s going to be great, and I don’t want you to miss it.”

“To be sure, I’ll come,” said Mrs. Jones. “Tell Jaky I’m glad to hear about how much he loves the dumb animals—every manly boy ought to love and protect them.”

“I tell you,” said Johnnie, as he hurried out of the gate, “Jaky will fight anybody who hallooes at one of his pets or mistreats one in the least. He’s just as kind to them as he can be. Don’t you forget the show. It’ll come off next week.”

XVII. A VALENTINE PARTY.

It was one week from St. Valentine’s Day, and the Berry children had already provided a number of the tokens, comic and otherwise, which they meant to send to their friends. Jack produced a grotesque and awfully exaggerated caricature of a withered, stoop-shouldered old woman, with some cruel lines of doggerel printed beneath it.

“I’m going to send this to old Mrs. Gray,” said Jack, as he exhibited the comic picture.

Nearly all the children laughed, and said that the picture and the words beneath it would just suit the old woman. Mrs. Gray was an old and poverty-stricken widow woman, and many of the children of the little village took delight in playing tricks on her on Hallowe’en and Valentine nights. In this way, the children, especially the boys, had made her life so miserable that the old woman often said that she hated even the sight of a boy. In the midst of the merriment over the proposed venture of Jack Berry, it was Lillie Berry who spoke up, saying,——

“Jack, I tell you what I think. I think we ought to give Mrs. Gray a genuine surprise next week. She has had so many ups and downs in this life, I really believe that we can give her a little pleasure if we give her a true—true surprise. Of course, all the boys and girls will be invited to join in, but it is not going to be like a regular party, but something like the ‘surprise’ parties or donation parties that we sometimes give the preacher; we’ll just put the things on the doorstep and run, the way we do with valentines, you know. What do you say to that, Jack? And what do the rest of you think?”

Very quickly the Berry children agreed with what Lillie had said, and immediately they set about planning for the valentine party.

The night of February fourteenth was clear, cold and moonless. Across the fields in the darkness, a throng of merry young children, with a wagon or two (little goat wagons) piled high with baskets and bundles and wood, slipped silently toward the little house where old Mrs. Gray sat shivering over her scanty fire. A sudden knock at the door aroused Mrs. Gray from her musing. She hobbled painfully to the door. Opening it, she saw by the light of the tallow candle a basket of rosy apples and another of potatoes. Nothing else was in sight.

A second knock followed almost as soon as the door had closed on the two baskets which were hurriedly drawn inside. This time a can of kerosene oil held a lonely vigil on the doorstep.

“I haven’t had a drop in my lamp for two weeks,” Jack heard the old lady say, as she peered out eagerly into the darkness before closing the door.

As she was busy filling her lamp, she was interrupted by a third knock, which resulted in a basket filled with groceries in parcels in all shapes and sizes. Great tears stood in Mrs. Gray’s eyes, and a great lump arose in her throat.

At last knock number four revealed the real Saint Valentine—a group of laughing boys and girls, every one of whom carried an armful either of pine or oak wood for the stove.

“Where shall we put it?” asked Jack Berry, as eager now to help as he had been the week before to tease. Mrs. Gray was rubbing her eyes, and wondering if she could possibly be awake and in her right mind.

“Wish you many happy returns of Valentine’s Day!” said Lillie Berry, as she slipped into the withered hand a small purse containing the valentine money of the boys and girls; and before the bewildered woman could say more than a fervent “God bless you,” her guests had melted away in the darkness, and she was left to weep tears of thankfulness among her new possessions.

XVIII. “NO MONEY DOWN.”

Boys and girls, I suppose you are quite familiar with what is known as buying things on the instalment plan. You have seen people in your own neighborhood—perhaps in your own homes—buy things that way. Chairs, tables, bed-steads, rugs, pictures, things for the kitchen and things to wear, and many other things are bought that way. Most people think they are getting a great bargain when they are able to buy things by paying a small amount in cash as the first payment—say fifty cents or a dollar—and then pay the balance in small weekly or monthly payments. And especially do some of our mothers and fathers think that they are getting a great bargain, if they are able to buy things they want for “no money down” and so much a week. In such matters, my dear boys and girls, your parents are making a terrible mistake and are setting you a wrong example. They lose sight of the fact, when they fall into the habit of buying anything and everything on the instalment plan or on the “no money down” plan, that a day of reckoning is sure to come; that the time comes when they must pay for everything that they have been led into buying. Thoughtful people—wise people—prefer to pay “money down” when they buy anything; and this habit of paying as they go helps them in at least two ways. First, it saves money in their pockets, and, secondly, it keeps them from running in debt.

Children, these men who come to your homes with great packs on their backs always charge you double for whatever they may sell you on the “no money down” plan—no matter what it is! That is why they are willing to make the terms so “easy,” as they say. In the end they profit by their schemes, and nobody else does profit by their schemes except these peddlers. You ought to avoid them as you would a wild beast. You do not know now, boys and girls, what a terrible thing debt is. I honestly hope that you may never know, and if you will take the advice of older and wiser persons I am sure you will always be free from the bondage of debt.

Not long ago, I saw two women standing at the window of one of these “no money down” or “hand-me-down” stores. One said to the other—

“I just believe I’ll get me a new cloak this winter. My cloak didn’t cost but three dollars, and it is so old and shabby that I am ashamed to wear it in the street. Look at that beauty over there in the corner. Only ten dollars and ‘no money down’.”

“Yes;” said her companion, “but I guess the money will have to come down sometime.”

“Oh, of course; but, you know, I won’t have to pay it all at once. I could probably get it for fifty cents a week.”

“Well, why don’t you just save the fifty cents a week until you have enough to pay ‘cash down’ for the cloak, and in that way you would save, I am sure, three or four dollars; because you can buy that same cloak for six dollars or seven dollars in cash.”

“Oh,” said the woman, “I’d never save it as I would if I had the cloak and knew that I just had to pay for it.”

“But, Delia, the cloak would not really be yours until you had paid for it, and I would feel kind of cheap wearing a cloak that didn’t belong to me. If I were you I would stick to the old cloak until I could pay the money down for a new one. That’s what I would do.”

And that is exactly what anybody should do who wants a new cloak. It is what people should do, no matter what they want. I know a boy fifteen or sixteen years old who had the courage and the manliness and the honesty to wear a very shabby old overcoat all of last winter rather than buy one on the “no money down” plan. It is his plan always to “pay as he goes,” and be debtor to no one.

I heard the other day of a young fellow who goes two or three blocks out of his way to avoid passing certain stores because he owes the proprietors of those stores money that he cannot pay. That boy, I know, is miserable night and day. Mr. Longfellow, in his “The Village Blacksmith,” tells us that the honest old blacksmith could look “the whole world in the face,” because he did not owe anybody anything—he was out of debt. And boys and girls, if you are level-headed, you will fight shy of the “no money down” plan. By choosing the “money down” plan, you will save your self-respect and your good name.

XIX. TOMMY’S BABY BROTHER.

For several months Deacon Tadpole’s little son, Tommy, had made constant and repeated reference to the fact that he had no little baby brother or sister to play with. One day, when he was feeling unusually sad over his misfortune, he said to his father,——

“Papa, I ain’t got no little baby brother to play with—you might at least buy me a little pony.”

“Papa can’t buy a pony, son;” said the deacon. “A pony costs too much. I thought you wanted a little brother or sister.”

“I do,” said Tommy, “but if I can’t get what I want I’m willing to take what I can get.”

“But, you would rather have a little brother than a pony, wouldn’t you?” asked Mr. Tadpole.

Tommy thought awhile and then said he thought he would rather have a little baby brother than to have a pony.

“You see,” he said, “it costs so much to keep a pony, and we would have to build a stable for him, wouldn’t we, papa?”

“Yes,” answered his father, “and we haven’t got any room in the backyard for a stable.”

“And we’d have to buy hay, too,” said the child.

“Yes,” said his father.

“Well, I’d rather have the little brother.”

So the matter was left in abeyance until a month ago when little Tommy was told one morning that a little brother had come to him.

He was delighted. He danced around in the hall and made such a racket on the stairs that the nurse threatened to have him sent away. When he was permitted to see the baby, Tommy went into ecstasies. He asked a thousand questions about the little one, and was very anxious to know why God had taken so long to send him down from heaven. He wanted to kiss the baby, and cried because they wouldn’t let him hold it in his arms.

But Tommy’s enthusiasm for the new baby began to wear off in about a week’s time. It was always, “Sh-sh! Sh-sh! You’ll wake the baby,” or “Tommy, you must be more quiet!” or “You can’t come in this room, now!”

In fact the little baby brother seemed to be interfering with little Tommy’s fun to such an extent that he decided to go to his father and see if some new arrangement could not be made. Tommy found his father in the library. He ran to Deacon Tadpole and climbed upon his knee, and said,——

“Papa, I don’t believe I want my little brother any more. I can’t have any fun with him. I’ll tell you what let’s do. Let’s trade him for a pony.”

“Oh, we couldn’t do that,” said the deacon.

Tommy was silent for a time. Then he said,——