by Jane Andrews
THE SEVEN LITTLE SISTERS.
Here, dear children, are your seven little sisters. Let us count themover. First came the brown baby, then Agoonack, Gemila, Jeannette,Pen-se, Manenko, and Louise. Seven little sisters I have called them,but Marnie exclaims: "How can they be sisters when some are black,some brown, and some white; when one lives in the warm country andanother in the cold, and Louise upon the shores of the Rhine? Sallieand I are sisters, because we have the same father and live heretogether in the same house by the seaside; but as for those sevenchildren, I can't believe them to be sisters at all."
Now let us suppose, my dear little girl, that your sister Sallieshould go away,--far away in a ship across the ocean to the warmcountries, and the sun should burn her face and hands and make themso brown that you would hardly know her,--wouldn't she still be yoursister Sallie?
And suppose even that she should stay away in the warm countries andnever come back again, wouldn't she still be your dear sister? andwouldn't you write her letters and tell her about home and all thatyou love there?
I know you would.
And now, just think if you yourself should take a great journeythrough ice and snow and go to the cold countries, up among the whitebears and the sledges and dogs; suppose even that you should have anodd little dress of white bear-skin, like Agoonack, wouldn't you thinkit very strange if Sallie shouldn't call you her little sister justbecause you were living up there among the ice?
And what if Minnie, too, should take it into her head to sail acrossthe seas and live in a boat on a Chinese river, like Pen-se, and drivethe ducks, eat rice with chopsticks, and have fried mice for dinner;why, you might not want to dine with her, but she would be your sweet,loving sister all the same, wouldn't she?
I can hear you say "Yes" to all this, but then you will add: "Fatheris our father the same all the time, and he isn't Pen-se's father, norManenko's."
Let us see what makes you think he is your father. Because he lovesyou so much and gives you everything that you have--clothes to wear,and food to eat, and fire to warm you?
Did he give you this new little gingham frock? Shall we see what itis made of? If you ravel out one end of the cloth, you can find thelittle threads of cotton which are woven together to make your frock.Where did the cotton come from?
It grew in the hot fields of the South, where the sun shines verywarmly. Your father didn't make it grow, neither did any man. It istrue a man, a poor black man, and a very sad man he was too, put thelittle seeds into the ground, but they would never have grown if thesun hadn't shone, the soft earth nourished, and the rain moistenedthem. And who made the earth, and sent the sun and the rain?
That must be somebody very kind and thoughtful, to take so much careof the little cotton-seeds. I think that must be a father.
Now, what did you have for breakfast this morning?
A sweet Indian cake with your egg and mug of milk? I thought so. Whomade this breakfast? Did Bridget make the cake in the kitchen? Yes,she mixed the meal with milk and salt and sugar. But where did she getthe meal? The miller ground the yellow corn to make it. But who madethe corn?
The seeds were planted as the cottonseeds were, and the same kind caresupplied sun and rain and earth for them. Wasn't that a father? Notyour father who sits at the head of the table and helps you at dinner,who takes you to walk and tells you stories, but another Father; yourFather, too, he must be, for he is certainly taking care of you.
And doesn't he make the corn grow, also, on that ant-hill behindManenko's house? He seems to take the same care of her as of you.
Then the milk and the egg. They come from the hen and the cow; but whomade the hen and the cow?
It was the same kind Father again who made them for you, and madethe camels and goats for Gemila and Jeannette; who made also the wildbees, and taught them to store their honey in the trees, for Manenko;who made the white rice grow and ripen for little Pen-se, and thesea-birds and the seals for Agoonack. To every one good food toeat--and more than that; for must it not be a very loving father whohas made for us all the beautiful sky, and the stars at night, and theblue sea; who sent the soft wind to rock the brown baby to sleepand sing her a song, and the grand march of the Northern Lights forAgoonack--grander and more beautiful than any of the fireworks youknow; the red strawberries for little Jeannette to gather, and thebeautiful chestnut woods on the mountain-side? Do you remember allthese things in the stories?
And wasn't it the same tender love that made the sparkling water andsunshine for Pen-se, and the shining brown ducks for her too; thesprings in the desert and the palm-trees for Gemila, as well as thewarm sunshine for Manenko, and the beautiful River Rhine for Louise?
It must be a very dear father who gives his children not only allthey need for food and clothing, but so many, many beautiful things toenjoy.
Don't you see that they must all be his children, and so all sisters,and that he is your Father, too, who makes the mayflowers bloom, andthe violets cover the hills, and turns the white blossoms into black,sweet berries in the autumn? It is your dear and kind Father who doesall this for his children. He has very many children; some of themlive in houses and some in tents, some in little huts and some underthe trees, in the warm countries and in the cold. And he loves themall; they are his children, and they are brothers and sisters. Shallthey not love each other?
