for they were past all pain. Blood was streaming upon the snow; and that purple stain, in the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the next day's sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by the people. N. Hawthorne. XVII. - A SONG FROM THE SUDS. Q I. UEEN of my tub, I merrily sing, Then out in the free fresh air they swing, II. I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls And let water and air by their magic make Then on earth there would be indeed III. Along the path of a useful life Will heart's-ease ever bloom; The busy mind has no time to think Of sorrow, or care, or gloom; And anxious thoughts may be swept away, IV. I am glad a task to me is given, To labor at, day by day; For it brings me health, and strength, and hope, 66 And I cheerfully learn to say, Head, you may think; Heart, you may feel, Louisa M. Alcott. I HAD been to the corn-lot in the hope of finding a few roasting-ears for supper; but there were none ripe enough, so I walked slowly back to the house, with my hands under my apron to save them from sunburn; and the moment I stepped into the sitting-room I saw the baby was missing. - 2. The baby was one that had been left with us, sister Bell and me, while the dear mamma went to see dear papa, sick in a far-away hospital. It was a plump, peachy little thing, nearly a year old, named Maude, familiarly called Madge, and more familiarly Midget. 3. She was full of mischief as she could hold, crept all about the house, throwing things out of doors or into the fire, as came handiest, thrust her hands behind her and screeched like a hyena if any one approached to interfere with her operations, and slept about fifteen minutes twice. a day. 4. Her usual time to be crawling around underfoot was in the early part of the day, when the kitchen-work was in progress; in the afternoon, when the work was all done, and we were ready for a frolic with her babyship, the little nuisance might generally be found sequestered in a corner, hugging a bosom full of matches, or sticking postage-stamps all over her chubby arms. 5. But this time I had left her asleep. She must have been asleep, for she did n't wink; and when the little deceiver was hoaxing me she always winked desperately. I laid her on a rug in a cool corner, and, leaving the door open, walked down to the corn-field and back again in about seven minutes, as nearly as I could judge. 6. The baby was missing! There was the print of her little moist head on the pillow, there were the little blue hints of shoes, just as she had kicked them off in her play. Hurriedly I went through room after room, searching and calling. Not a glimpse of the little white frock, not a lisp from the prattling tongue. 7. " 'Baby! baby! where are you?" I cried. O dear Mr. T. B. Aldrich! It was n't our baby you had in mind, was it, when you wrote those sweet lines, "O where is our dainty, our darling, The daintiest darling of all, Little Maude?" 8. Rushing to the head of the shouted, "have you seen baby?" stairs, "O Bell!" I 9. "No, I have n't; I guess not. Why?" 10. I knew by the way Bell spoke that she was not half awake, but her coolness annoyed me. 11. "You guess not! Well, she 's lost; I went to the lot after roasting-ears, and when" A fretful exclamation. from Bell interrupted me. 12. "O dear me! Have you looked in the parlor? I've not a doubt but she's there, poking over my photographalbum. Do look, please, sis." 13. Terror overmastered my desire to fling back a snappish answer to this aggravating remark. Down stairs again, I threw open the parlor door, which, having been tightly closed, I had not before tried. All undisturbed and quiet. How thankful I should have been just then to have found everything topsy-turvy, the phantom and grass bouquets in ruins, and Bell's album in the smutty fingers of the little culprit ! 14. With a groan I shut the door, and commenced the search anew. I opened all the closets and presses that I had opened before, looked under the bureaus and sofas, and shook the ironing-basket. All in vain, vain! No 15. Then I ran out into the currant-bushes, where a few tempting red bunches were still hanging. Bell saw and hailed me from the chamber-window, "Is n't that pestiferous infant found yet?" 16. I looked up to see the provoking girl sitting by the open blind, braiding her tangled hair, O so leisurely! 17. "You unfeeling creature!" I cried; " will you never have done your dreadful hair, and come and help me find this child?" 18. "Have you looked in the ash-hole, and the bandboxes, and the big churn?" answered this trying sister of mine; but I saw her eyes opening very wide, and in two minutes more she was flouncing about the kitchen, with her unfastened braids hanging about her shoulders in a very original style. 19. Her movements were peculiar and characteristic. She shook the door-mat, jerked the pump-handle, examined the bread-tray and the flour-barrel. Then her eyes fell upon the sink-drain. 20. “She could n't have got in there, now, could she?” questioned Bell, with terror in every feature. "The horrid sewer, you know!" And she looked a whole volume of Victor Hugo at me in one wretched instant. 21. “Of course not! through a four-inch spout! and put the strainer in after her! What a preposterous notion!" And Bell does not know to this day that, not five minutes before she came down, I was working the broomhandle down that very spout with all my might and main. 22. Out of doors we went, examined the clumps of elder, looked over the fence, up street, down street, and finally returned disconsolate to the kitchen. 23. "Midget! Midget! you dear, precious little angel, where are you?" moaned Bell, dropping upon the settee. I did not say, "Humph! pestiferous little angel!" for Bell's distress was too genuine to be mocked. 24. So, as we sat with our arms around each other, crying, we heard a very slight rattling in the direction of the cook-room of the kitchen, which contained no furniture except a stove and table. We had glanced around this room once or twice; but as there seemed to be no hidingplaces, the thought of searching it had never occurred to us. 25. The stove was a large-sized Peerless, with an oven occupying the whole lower part. Well, to cut the story short, the baby was in the oven! We knew it, Bell and I, as soon as the rattling was repeated, and we simultaneously rushed for the cook-room. 26. There she sat, the mischief, bolt upright in the oven, with her head in the high part and her feet in the low, treating herself to the contents of a blackberry-pie, which had been left in from the morning's baking. She had taken off the upper crust whole, spreading it on her bosom like a napkin, and was now employed in picking out the blackberries, and conveying them to her mouth one by one. She looked up at us, and O such a face! What with cunning, fright, and blackberry-juice, I have never seen such a face before or since. 27. Bell caught her out, kissed her comparatively clean, scolding her all the time. Then she carried her to the sink, and pumped water upon her without the least fear of washing her down the spout. As soon as the little lady recovered her breath, she screamed furiously, and pointed to the oven with decided demonstrations of a plan to return to her repast. 28. Bell begged the privilege of putting her back to finish the pie; but I steadily set my face against such an indulgence, and, when she and Midget both insisted, set the matter at rest by kindling a huge fire in the stove, and making vigorous preparations for an early tea. Helen L. Bostwick. EXERCISE. 1. The moment I stepped into the sitting-room I saw the baby was missing. 2. She screeched like a hyena if any one approached to interfere with her operations. 3. Her usual time to be crawling around was in the early part of the day. 4. She might generally be found sequestered in a corner. 5. When she was hoaxing me she always winked desperately. 6. I desired to fling back a snappish answer to this aggravating remark. 7. I shut the door and commenced the search anew. |