Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER I.

  SPRING--MRS. GRAHAM.

  Spring is here. The sun is shining brightly, and the air is warm, andthe breeze is scented with the blossoms of the apple and the pear. Thetrees whose branches have been bare all winter, except when the snowwrapped them in a white mantle, have now put on a dress of the lightestand liveliest green. The gardens, too, are beginning to look gayly.There is in my garden one bed which is especially bright. This isHarriet's. Here she digs and plants and manages all in her own way, andhere, at this season, she and her little friends may be often seen withheads bent down to the ground, searching for the first appearance of acrocus or a hyacinth. If one is seen, a joyful clapping of hands and ageneral call for Aunt Kitty announces the discovery.

  Doubtless all my little readers have noticed the changes which thisseason brings. How pleasant is the first walk which you can take withoutcloaks or shawls! And the first violet or buttercup which is found,--wenever think any other half so pretty. And the brooks which have beenfrozen up all winter, now prattle away over the stones, as noisily aslittle girls who have just got out from a schoolroom where they havebeen obliged to be very still for two or three hours. And the littlebirds which have spent their winter in a southern climate, sing asmerrily as if they were glad to get back again to their old homes, or asif, as Jessie Graham says her grandmother told her, they were thankingGod for giving them such pleasant weather. I wish all little girls wouldremember this, and imitate the birds,--thanking their Heavenly Fatherfor his goodness to them, not only in words when they kneel down to saytheir prayers, but in bright looks and cheerful tones through the wholeday.

  Jessie Graham is a very clever little girl, and very like a bird herselfas she goes singing and jumping about when she is out of doors, thoughat home she is the most quiet, orderly, housewifely little thing you canimagine. Her grandmother, of whom I have just spoken, is a Scotchwoman.She is a widow, her husband having died soon after they came to thiscountry, and when her only child, Jessie's father, was still a littleboy. Mrs. Graham seemed to have nothing to live on but what she couldmake by her own spinning and knitting, her gardening and poultry yard.Yet she never asked alms, or even received them when offered, saying tothose who would have given them, "I am thankful to God for showing methat when the time of need comes I shall have such kind friends, butstill more thankful to Him that it has not come yet." Her garden wassmall, but in it were often the earliest and best vegetables that wereto be seen for miles around. Some of these she would send by littleDonald to the market of a neighboring town. Donald too had his bed offlowers, from which he was sometimes able to sell slips of roses or afew choice bulbous roots. Seeds and slips and roots to plant were givenhim by my brother's gardener, who had employed the lad, and had, as hesaid, "taken a liking" to him, because he had found him honest,industrious, and intelligent. With his instructions, Donald became acapital gardener, and when he afterwards removed to the city, wasemployed by my brother in his place. With the wages which he thusreceived, Donald was able to add to his garden, till with some work fromhimself and constant watchfulness from his mother, it became quiteprofitable. He enlarged their cottage, too, so that when he brought homea wife there was room enough for her without taking any thing from hismother's comfort. His wife was a good-tempered and kind-hearted youngwoman whom he had known from a boy. They have six children, of whomJessie is the eldest. She is named after her grandmother; and as she isalmost always at her side, has learned many useful things from herbesides imitating the birds in keeping a thankful and a cheerful heart.She is constantly busy,--sometimes helping her grandmother in herhousekeeping, or counting her eggs, or feeding her chickens forher,--sometimes sewing beside her mother, or taking care of her youngbrothers and sisters,--sometimes--and I think this is what Jessie likesbest--running after her father, and by his direction weeding a bed ortying up a branch, picking the strawberries or making up into bouquetsthe flowers which he is to take to market. She has the family taste forgardening, and has already learned from her father a great deal moreabout plants than their names. Harriet goes to her always forinstruction about the management of her flowers, and if a friend sendsme a rare plant, is never quite satisfied till Jessie has approved thesoil in which it is placed. It is from Jessie that I learn, in thespring, where the most beautiful wild-flowers are to be found.

  A stroll in the woods after these wild-flowers is one of the greatesttreats I can offer to my young favorites; and when, about a year ago, Isent to several of them to come to my house on a fine, bright morning,prepared for one of these rambles, with thick shoes which would keeptheir feet dry if we went into low or damp places, and little baskets inwhich to put their flowers, I was very sure there was not one who woulddisappoint me. They all came, and Jessie the earliest and the gayestamong them. She had brought her father's trowel to take up the roots,and away we all went,--the little ones talking as fast and laughing asloud as they could, and Aunt Kitty listening, as much pleased as any ofthem. Away we went,--not by the road, but through the woods,--now movingswiftly and pleasantly along under the high trees, with the sunlightfalling only here and there in patches on our path,--then suddenlyhedged up by the tangled brushwood, and obliged to climb or jump over,or to creep through, as some of the smallest of the party managed todo,--the children now filling their baskets with buttercups, thenthrowing them all away because they had found a piece of ground coveredwith violets. At last, when the baskets were filled with the roots ofviolets and wood-geraniums, and each one had gathered branches of thewild-rose and clusters of the rich and graceful columbine, Aunt Kittyremembering that they had yet to walk home, gave the signal to return,and half unwillingly it was obeyed. After leaving the wood, we followeda road which enabled me to leave my young companions at their differenthomes before I went on to mine. Mr. Graham's was the last house on ourway, and there Harriet and Mary Mackay and I stopped with Jessie, as Isaw her father was at home and wanted to speak to him about some seeds.Old Mrs. Graham was seated in the low, shaded porch, knitting, and thereI left the children showing her their treasures, while I stepped intothe garden where Mr. Graham was at work. Having finished my talk withhim I went into the house again. The children were still in the porch;and as I entered the parlor that opened on it, I heard Mary Mackay'searnest tone wishing that she could walk in the woods and pick flowersevery day.

  "Why, Mary!" said Harriet, "what then would become of your books andMiss Bennett?"--this was the name of Mary's governess.

  "I would not care what became of them," said Mary, hastily, then added:"Oh yes, I would care what became of Miss Bennett,--but as for thebooks--"

  "Send them to me, Mary," said Jessie, "send them to me, if you are tiredof them, and send Miss Bennett with them."

  "Why, Jessie, do you want to study lessons?"

  "I don't know about the studying, Mary, how I should like that,--but Iwould be willing to try, rather than be a poor ignorant girl without anyschooling, as Nancy Orme called me the other day."

  I saw old Mrs. Graham turn quickly round at this, and heard her askJessie, "And what did you say to Nancy Orme?"

  "Nothing, grandmother,--what could I say to her? It is the truth, youknow."

  "It is not the truth," said Mrs. Graham, "and you are a silly child tosay so."

  "Why, grandmother, what schooling have I ever had? You have taught me toread, and father has begun to teach me to write, and that is all I knowor am like to know."

  "You are a silly child, Jessie, as I said before. You have had theschooling which is better for little Jessie Graham, the gardener'sdaughter, than any that Miss Bennett and her books could give."

  Mary, who really loved Miss Bennett, colored up, and Mrs. Graham said toher, "Do not be vexed, my little lady, for I mean no offence. Miss MaryMackay, who is to be a young _lady_, and must talk to ladies andgentlemen, cannot do without books and Miss Bennett to explain them. AndI do not mean to say that book-learning hurts anybody, but only thatJessie, and poor little folks like Jessie, can do without it, and yetth
at they must not call themselves without schooling; for what schoolingthey really want, God takes care that they may have."

  The girls looked puzzled, and as I had become quite interested in whatthe old woman was saying, I was not sorry when my inquisitive littleniece, Mary, exclaimed, "Pray, Mrs. Graham, tell me what you mean, for Icannot see what schooling little girls have who do not learn out ofbooks."

  "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Graham, putting down her knitting, taking offher spectacles, and looking very thoughtful, "I do not know whether Ican tell you just what I mean, so that you can understand me, but I willtry. I think God means that every father and mother shall be teachers totheir own children, or if the father and mother are dead, there isalmost always some friend who is bound to take their place, and then hespreads out books on every side of them, so that they are almost obligedto read, unless they wilfully shut their eyes;--for if they look up,there is the sun in the day and the moon and stars at night, and thoughthey cannot tell, as I am told some great scholars can do, how far offthey are, and what the stars are named, they can see how much good theydo to us, lighting and warming us, and dividing the year into seasons,which, everybody who knows any thing of gardening knows, is a greatgood, and making day and night. They can learn out of this book, too, agreat deal of God's power and glory, for he must keep all these in theirplaces, and make them all come back to us day after day, and night afternight, and year after year, without ever failing once. Then, when theylook down on the ground, there is another beautiful book. They may notbe able to call every thing there by its right name, but they may learnwhat is good to eat, and what for medicine, and what is only pretty tothe eye,--what soil each plant loves, and how God has provided for eachjust what is best for it. And so, if they look at the birds, or thepoultry, or the different animals, they will find each kind has its ownways, and from each one they may learn as many useful things as from anybook that was ever made. Now, my dear young ladies, this is theschooling which God provides for us all, and though, as I said before,learning from books is very good, yet those who cannot get it need notbe altogether ignorant, and of the two, maybe God's schooling is bestfor poor people."

  Though I was very much pleased with what Mrs. Graham said, I was afraidmy little girls would begin to think very slightingly of books, so Istepped out, and telling them that it was time to go home, they gatheredup their flowers, and bidding Mrs. Graham and Jessie good-morning, weset out. I waited a while, hoping that, as they did not know I hadoverheard Mrs. Graham, they would speak to me of what she had said. Andso they did; for I had not waited long, when Mary said, "Aunt Kitty, doyou not think Mrs. Graham is a very sensible woman?"

  "Yes, my dear," I replied, "I do think she is a _very_ sensible woman."

  "I wish you could have heard her, Aunt Kitty, talking about Jessie'sschooling--I liked what she said so much."

  "And what did she say, Mary?"

  "Oh, Aunt Kitty, I cannot remember half--but she said little girls neednot study books."

  "Not all little girls, Mary," said Harriet, interrupting her.

  "Well, Harriet, not all little girls,--but she said that little girlswho could not study books, might still have schooling,--for God gavethem teachers, and then they might look at the stars, and the flowers,and the birds, and all the animals, and learn, Aunt Kitty, just as wellas we do out of books, and I am sure it must be a much pleasanter way oflearning."

  "But how many little girls are there, Mary, do you think, who, if theyhad never studied books or been directed by such sensible teachers asMrs. Graham herself, would look at the stars, and the flowers, and thebirds, and learn from them all which they can teach? Unless we seesomething more in these than their bright light, their pretty colors, ortheir gay plumage, they will teach us little, and it is generally frombooks or from some person who has had what Mrs. Graham callsbook-learning, that we learn to look deeper."

  "How did Mrs. Graham come to know so much about them then, Aunt Kitty,for I do not think she reads many books?"

  "Mrs. Graham, my dear Mary, has been accustomed to associate with peoplemuch better educated than herself, and as she is a very observing andthoughtful person, she has lost no opportunity of learning. And now,Mary, you see that book-learning is of more use than you ever beforethought it, for the person who has it, may help to open the eyes of manywho have it not, to read what God has written for us all in the heavensand the earth."