Library Collections: Document: Full Text

"Dear me," she said to her mother, "we shan't know ourselves, by-and-by, we shall get so grand."

"Indeed, then, I wish we might be both rich and grand for your sake," sighed her mother.

"No, mother, never wish that; He who put us here knows what is best. See how kind He is to send us such friends; O! the kindest being, the best! the most glorious! Suppose we were to grow very rich and forget Him; and it might be, you know."

A knock announced the first visitor, it was Anne, accompanied by Nellie Maxwell, who brought the yellowest, brightest-eyed bird that you ever saw, in one of the dearest little wire cages.

"Tilly screamed with delight at sight of it. She took the cage in her lap and laughed and cried over it, hugged it, chirrupped to the bird, and thanked Nellie for bringing her such a darling to see.

"But it's yours, your own," said Nellie.

"Mine -- to keep -- mine! Do you hear, mother? She says this bird is mine, the dear little bit of gold. O, you are all too good to me, I've wanted a bird ever since I can remember, and it seems so strange to have just what I want, first the chair, and now the bird. Don't you hate to part with it? Was it yours?"

"I have another just like it," said Nellie, who had exercised a great deal of self denial in giving up Floss. "I thought it would be such a pleasure to you. Here is a pound of seed, it will last a great while, and you will enjoy taking care of it so well."

"More than I can tell," sighed Tilly, who was quite overcome with the gratitude she felt. Then the bird was placed upon the table, and immediately set up a ravishing song, full of little cunning thrills and warblings, till it seemed as if his tiny throat must be tired; but no, no sooner was he through than at it he went again, never stopping to heed the compliments showered upon him. And presently the young girls came, one after another. One brought a beautiful picture; none came empty handed, and Tilly hardly knew herself, surrounded as she was with all these tokens of sympathy and love.

They seated themselves at their work, and the little tongues began to chatter, only stopping when the sweet voice of their president was heard.

"I hope the stories came," said Tilly, timidly.

"O, yes, the stories are all here," replied Anne, lifting a little portfolio which was much swelled out, as if it had eaten a hearty meal, and was waiting patiently for digestion. Uncle Ralph had contributed two stories, and Mamma May and Aunt Nellie two. There were besides some miscellany left over from the last afternoon, when transaction of business seriously interfered with their lighter amusements.

Tilly leaned back, drawing a long breath as she looked around her. Floss was silent, for his little mistress that was, had thrown her shawl over his cage, telling him that he might sing to-morrow as much as he liked, but silence was desirable at present. So the poor bird, wondering, no doubt, at the sudden eclipse, defiantly hopped about his cage, and determinedly pecked at his seeds encouraged by the sound of voices, to believe that there was a little deception practiced in his case, and resolving, very likely, to make it up to-morrow.

Nellie Maxwell took a folded paper from her pocket, blushing as she saw Anne's eye upon her.

"It is a letter my papa wrote me when I was at school, last year. It was sent with some fine paper dollies, that mamma had cut out of fashion plates, and dressed for me. Mamma thought it would be nice to read at the social."

"And we are all ready to listen," said Anne. "I appoint you reader."

After clearing her throat, of course, the blush grew deeper and deeper, for although Nellie had been quite eager to read her father's witty letter, still it was embarrassing with all those eager faces about her. Presently she began at the title, which caused a smile.

The D. Baby Family

My darling, 'tis now evening; mamma and I are in our room, and the cheerful fire in the grate makes things comfortable and beautiful, in all respects but one, and that embraces a dear little girl whom I would rather embrace just now.

We sit as cosily as can be at the large round table, I writing to our pet, and mamma reading the papers.

Though the table is very roomy, I have but a little place to scribble in, for it is covered with all sorts of things, clippings, work basket, and materials too numerous to mention, the most prominent among which is a large family, consisting of the mamma, (widow of the late Mr. Doll Baby) her daughters, cousins, and a grandchild.

As they are about making a visit to your beautiful city, and will be your guests, I think I had better give you some idea of the party, with whom you will, no doubt, become very intimate.

Mrs. D. Baby is a lady whom you will like. (She had a beautiful satin dress, said the reader looking aside for a moment.) She is not handsome, but has a charming manner. In motherly kindness and dignity, she seems to be sixty years of age, but from her impulsive goodness of heart and great flow of spirits, I should judge she was not a day over sixteen. I have not time to enlarge upon her innumerable good qualities, and would not touch upon her imperfections, if she had any. Her eldest daughter, Ida, is a young lady of rare attainments, a ripe scholar, and highly accomplished. Her husband is at present in Paris, as an attache of the American Legation. As we are to be deprived of her society for the coming season, we naturally feel sorry, but you will be the gainer. Advise your friends not to attempt any great flights in displaying their knowledge in her presence, unless they are perfectly sure of themselves. The next eldest daughter, Miss Hattie, is stylish in her dress but never gay. I fear she has but little heart, but she is greatly admired by leading people. She talks well on all subjects, particularly politics, but does not seem to gain friends. Perhaps it is only because she is so peculiar in her tastes.