XIV.
_WATER-LILIES._
One great object of delight and interest to the children was theimmense number of robins around Newport. These pretty, saucy, littlebirds were constantly to be seen hopping about the soft, velvetylawns for which this place is famous; picking up whatever crumbs fellin their way, or such unwary worms and caterpillars as had venturedforth for air and exercise; swinging on the branches of the trees, orperched with an independent, look-at-me sort of an air, upon the fencesand railings; shaking down showers of diamond dew-drops from slendersprays, in the early morning; charming all ears with their sweet notes;welcome guests whenever and wherever they came.
The first thing done by the children after breakfast, was each morningto beg for crumbs and bits of bread to feed the robins, who would comehopping close to the piazza to receive the welcome gift. Even BabyAnnie must throw out her share, and would hold up her tiny littlefinger to keep off any one who, she feared, would disturb the birds,saying,--
“Ss, ss, badie fy,” which meant, “Hush, hush, birdie fly.”
Then there was the bathing in the sea, now as formerly, such a sourceof pleasure to Bessie. Maggie, too, enjoyed it, for she had lost allfear of the waves while she was at Quam Beach. It afforded endlessamusement, too, to Maggie, to see the droll figures presented by thebathers when they were dressed for their dip in the sea. Her merry,ringing laugh provoked smiles not only from lookers-on, but from thevery wearers themselves; for there was no rudeness or unkindness inthat laugh, and she was quite as much diverted at her own appearance asshe was at that of others.
From nine to twelve, the beach was generally crowded with bathers; somecoming from the water, others going from the line of bathing-housestowards it; others still, in every color and style of dress, bobbing upand down in the waves. There were carriages driving back and forth overthe yielding sand; many walkers, too,--people who came only to look atthe bathers, or who were moving about after their own bath. The beachwas a merry, lively place, where there was never a lack of “somethingto do;” for the children always brought their little pails and shovelswith them, and when their frolic in the water was over, they woulddig in the sand, or pick up small shells. Sometimes they would watchthe clam-fishers turning over the sea-weed with their long-prongedinstruments, or sail bits of wood and light scallop-shells down thepretty, shallow stream of fresh water; which, running from the pondbeyond, and crossing the beach near its upper end, mingles its purewaters with the salt waves of the sea.
There was a story connected with this beach, told by Mr. Bradford tohis children,--a story strange and romantic enough to satisfy evenMaggie’s love of the marvellous, yet perfectly true.
One fine, bright morning, more than a hundred years ago, a vesselwas seen coming down directly towards the beach, where no vessel hadever been known to venture before. Her sails were all set, her colorsflying; and the alarmed spectators watched her with the most painfulinterest, expecting each instant to see her dashed to pieces upon therocks. But no: on she came safely; past craggy points and over hiddenreefs, and struck her keel into the soft sand of the beach. No personwas seen on board; and, when the anxious townspeople reached her decks,the only living creature there was a dog. A cat was found in the cabin,where coffee was boiling, and other preparations made for breakfast;but not a sailor was to be seen. What became of her crew was neverknown: but it was supposed, that, finding themselves too near therocks, they took to the life-boat, which was missing, and were lost;while the vessel came safely to land, without hand or eye to guide her.
Beyond this beach, a most lovely drive, with the ocean in view all theway, leads to Purgatory and Paradise. The former is a great gulf orchasm in the solid rock of the point or bluff which separates the firstfrom the second beach; a dark, gloomy-looking place, from which Maggie,Bessie, and Belle drew back in alarm, without the least desire to lookdown. Neither did they like to hear the stones which the boys threwinto the cleft, and which went bounding with a dull sound, from side toside, till they plunged sullenly into the dark waters below.
Reckless Fred ventured too near the edge, where a slip upon the shortgrass, or a stray pebble would have sent him down into the darkabyss. The Colonel drew him back with no gentle hand, and a sharpreprimand, all of which made the little girls still more ready to seeka pleasanter spot.
“For,” said Maggie, in a tone of great wisdom, “I don’t think it isat all prudent to come into places where one can be killed with suchfelicity.”
Maggie meant facility.
Paradise, as might be supposed, proved much more attractive. This isa succession of lovely groves and mossy glades lying below and on thesides of a rocky hill, and as great a contrast as can be imagined toits neighbor, Purgatory.
But the place which the children loved the best, and where they spentthe most of their time, was the lovely little beach lying just belowthe bluff on which stood Colonel Rush’s house. Here, too, they oftenbathed, instead of driving over to the larger and more frequentedbeach; and here they might be found at almost every hour of the day.Here Bessie would sit, forgetting her play, as she watched the bluebillows with their crests of white foam, rolling up one after the otheron the smooth sands, and listening to the chiming sound of the waves,the grand music of old ocean sounding ceaselessly, and speaking to allhearts, that will hear, of the power and goodness of the Almighty handwhich holds it in its place.
Even in bad weather, when she could not go out, the sea affordedendless pleasure to Bessie; for she could sit at the window watchingit, as the waves, lashed into fury by the wind, rushed foaming anddashing over the rocks and reefs, and sometimes even flung their sprayabove the edge of the cliff on which the house stood.
And sitting here one day, looking out from her perch over the stormywaters, the leaping waves, and foam-covered rocks, she was the first toobserve, and call all the family to see a spectacle which they had longdesired to witness.
This was the famous Spouting Rock in full play.
At a little distance from Colonel Rush’s house was a ledge of rocks,the under side of which has been worn into deep caverns by theconstant fretting of the waves. One of them has an open shaft, orsort of natural chimney, which ends on the surface of the rock. Instormy weather, when the wind has blown for some time in a particulardirection, the sea rushes with great power into these caverns, andforces itself up through the spout or chimney, often to a great height.But this does not happen very often, and one may spend months, perhapsyears, at Newport, without ever seeing it.
All of Mr. Bradford’s children, and indeed the grown people of theparty as well, had been very anxious to see this singular sight; andwhen Bessie, sitting by the window, and looking over towards theserocks, saw a jet of water forcing itself above them, she knew at oncewhat it was, and called out eagerly,--
“Oh, the horn is horning! it is really horning; come and see,everybody.”
The horn spouted all that day, and the children never tired oflooking at it; and Frankie, when he was asked if he knew what it was,answered,--
“I dess it is Dod’s fountain,” than which no answer could have beentruer.
Not very far from Colonel Rush’s house, lay a calm, lovely lake, calledLily Pond, separated from the ocean only by a narrow belt of land, andmaking a striking contrast to the rolling billows of the ocean so near.
As may be supposed, the lake is named from the number of water-lilieswith which it is covered during the season when these exquisite flowersare in bloom. They fill the air with their delicious fragrance; andthe delicate, pearly, white blossoms are seen by all the passers-by,resting among their green leaves on the surface of the water.
Bessie’s mother, and Bessie herself, were both extremely fond of theselovely flowers; and when Harry came in one day with two which he hadfished up from their watery bed with some trouble to himself, great wasthe rejoicing over them.
The next afternoon, Maggie and Bessie were out driving with Mrs. Rushand Aunt Bessie, when they came upon a boy and girl, perched u
pon afence at the side of the road, and having a basket half-filled withwater-lilies.
“Water-lilies! oh, water-lilies!” cried Bessie; “where did they gatherso many I wonder. Could we find some for dear mamma, do you think, AuntMay?”
“I think those children have them for sale: we can buy some from them,”said Mrs. Rush; and she ordered the coachman to stop.
“But we have left all our money at home,” said Maggie, in a tone ofregret.
“Well, I will buy them, and you may give them to mamma,” said Mrs. Rush.
“But that is not at all the same, Aunt May,” said Bessie: “it wouldonly be pretend our present.”
“Suppose I lend you the money. You may give it back to me if you like,as soon as you go home.”
So Maggie and Bessie each bought a bunch of water-lilies from the boyand girl, who had come down from the fence and now stood beside thecarriage, and Aunt May purchased the rest, leaving the basket empty.
The girl tossed her basket above her head, and, after thanking theladies, bounded across the road and over the fence on the other side,making for Lily Pond as if she were after a fresh supply. The boyfollowed more slowly.
“I wonder why they sell lilies,” said Maggie: “they do not look so verypoor. At least they’re not ragged and dirty, though the girl has apretty ugly frock.”
“If I was poor and had to make some money, I would choose to be awater-lily girl,” said Bessie; “and I would try to be so polite, andask so nicely, that people would like to buy of me.”
“I do not think people would be very apt to refuse you, my lily girl,”said Aunt Bessie, with a loving look at the sweet little face beforeher, which was bent over the lovely white blossoms, not purer thanitself.
“I would like to paddle in and pick the lilies,” said Maggie; “but Iwould not like to sit on top of a fence, waiting for people to come andbuy my flowers: it must be so stupid.”
“The boy looks as if he were better able to do that than to pick thelilies,” said Mrs. Rush. “He has an interesting, thoughtful face, butlooks delicate.”
“My anxiety is all upsidedown about him,” said Maggie. “Maybe hewants money to pay a doctor. Bessie, when we go out to walk to-morrowmorning, let’s ask nurse to come this way, and see if we can find thesechildren. Maybe we could help them a little. We must have a whole lotof charity money, for you know we have not had much use for it on ourtravels.”
Accordingly, the next morning the children waited for Belle; and,as soon as she came, the whole flock started with Mammy and Jane onthe road towards Lily Pond, the little girls having taken care to beprovided with money. They found the boy and girl, not sitting on top ofthe fence this time, but near the lake; the boy lying flat upon a rockwith a book in his hand, the girl sitting beside him, busy shellingpease.
They looked up as our party drew near, and the girl said with a pleasedlook,--
“Oh! it’s the little girls who bought all the lilies yesterday.”
“Yes, it is us,” said Maggie. “Have you more to sell us to-day? Wemeant to buy a whole lot, and have brought a basket in baby’s wagon.”
“We haven’t picked any to-day,” said the boy: “we don’t generallygather them till later, when it’s time for the gentle-folks to comeriding this way; but we can get some for you right away. In a few days,when they’re more plenty, there’ll be lots of fellows up here afterthem; but they mostly take them down to the beach and around the townto sell.”
“We have a little pond of our own, where there are a few,” said thegirl; “but we get most off of this one.”
“Where do you live?” asked Belle.
“Over yonder,” said the girl, pointing to a small farm-house standingamong its out-buildings on the other side of the road. “Now, Johnny,I’m ready.”
Johnny went a few steps off, where the bushes grew thickly, and drewfrom among them two long, hooked sticks. One of these he gave tothe girl, and kept the other in his own hand. While they had beentalking, the girl had pulled off her shoes and stockings; and now, tothe surprise of all the children, she waded into the water, while herbrother stayed upon the rock, without offering to follow.
Sallie, so he called her, stepped out till the water touched her knees;and having gathered such lilies as she could reach with her hand, drewothers towards her with the hooked stick. The long, slender stemsyielded easily; and, as she plucked one after another, she tossed themtowards her brother, who drew them in with his own stick.
How lovely and delicious they were, just fresh from their waterybed, with the drops still glittering like diamonds on the rich,creamy-white petals! how they filled the whole air with their fragrance!
“I think if I could carry flowers to heaven, I would like to takethese,” whispered Bessie to Maggie and Belle, as all three hungdelighted over their prize. “They look as if they were very large starsfallen down out of God’s sky, to tell us how sweet every thing isthere.”
“O Bessie, you darling!” said Maggie. “What a lovely idea! That’s goodenough to put in a book. Bessie, do you know that is talking prose?”
“What is prose?” asked Belle.
“You know what rhyme is,” said Maggie.
“Yes,” said Belle: “it means cat and hat, and mouse and house, and meanand queen.”
“That’s right,” said Maggie. “Well, if you say a nice thing in rhyme,that’s poetry; but if you say it in unrhyme, then it’s prose.”
“Oh!” said Belle, quite satisfied with Maggie’s explanation. “I wish Iwere as smart as you two. You write poetry, Maggie; and Bessie can talkprose: and I can’t do either.”
“Never mind,” said Maggie, consolingly. “Maybe you’ll be able to someday.”
“And you’re just good enough for us, any way,” said Bessie, with anaffectionate kiss to her little friend; an example which was followedby Maggie.
“Why don’t you go in the water, and let your sister stay out?” saidBelle to Johnny, rather reprovingly.
Johnny, who was a gentle-looking boy, colored a little, but answeredquietly,--
“They say I ought not to wet my feet, and I want to keep well verymuch.”
“Yes,” said Sallie, who had just stepped out of the water, and waswringing out her dripping skirts: “it don’t hurt me to go in the water;but it’s not good for him.”
“Are you sick?” asked Bessie.
“No,” said Johnny, looking as if he thought the little girls wereblaming him in their own minds for not taking the wetting himself, asindeed they were.
“He’s not just sick,” said Sallie; “but he’s not just strong, and we’rebound he shall go to school this winter, at least for one quarter. He’san awful fellow for his books and learning.”
“Will one quarter make him too sick to go any more?” asked Bessie.
“Oh! I didn’t mean that,” said Sallie, sitting down on the rock, andspreading out her wet feet and dress to dry in the sun; “but, you see,we’re not sure we’ll put by enough money even to pay for one quarter.Shall I tell you about it?” she added, seeing her little customerslooked interested.
“Yes,” said Bessie.
“Well, as I said, Johnny’s such a fellow for book learning, and he’ssmart too; and these two winters he’s tried hard for going to theCommon School down in the town; but it’s a terrible long walk, and socold; and both years he’s been taken down sick, and had to give it up;and the doctor told father he was not to try it again. But there’s ayoung man lives just round the turn of the road who is learning to bea minister, and he’s ready to teach a few boys if they pay him for it;and father said he couldn’t afford to pay a dollar this winter, forit’s been a bad year with him; but he said we might keep all we couldmake ourselves to pay for Johnny’s schooling; but I don’t know as we’relikely to put by even enough for one quarter. So that’s the reason, yousee, why I go in the water. I’m hearty, but Johnny takes cold easy, andthen he coughs.”
“Yes, ‘one man’s meat is another man’s poison,’” said Maggie. “Well,y
ou’re a good girl and a dutiful sister.”
“We’ll buy water-lilies of you every day,” said Bessie, “so we can helpalong. But we don’t come this way every day,” she added, thoughtfully.
“We could bring them to you, if you liked,” said Johnny. “We do takethem every day to a lady down yonder,” and he pointed in the directionof the bluff on which Colonel Rush’s house stood, with several others.
This was agreed upon; and the nurse, saying they must be movinghomeward, as it was time to go to the beach and bathe, they saidgood-by to Johnny and Sallie.
“I’ve a plan in my head,” said Maggie; “but then, I’ve learnedexperience by a very bad lesson, so I thought I’d better not mention ittill I’ve advised with mamma.”
Maggie’s bad lesson was this,--
One day, just before they left home for the Southern trip, Maggie wasstanding on the front stoop, waiting for her mother and Bessie, withwhom she was going out, when a poor-looking man spoke to her. He tolda most pitiful story; and Maggie, full of sympathy, emptied her littlepurse into his hand. But this did not satisfy the beggar; and he asked“if the little lady had not an old coat to give a poor soldier.”
“I’ll ask mamma,” said Maggie, and off she rushed upstairs, leaving thebeggar-man standing on the stoop by the open hall-door.
Mamma said she could not give old clothes away, unless she was sure theman was deserving: for she knew of many such who needed them; and toldMaggie to go back at once and tell Patrick to shut the door, and shewould see the man when she came down.
But when Maggie reached the foot of the stairs, the beggar was gone. Sofar from waiting for the old coat, it was soon found that he had walkedoff with a new one of papa’s, which lay on the hall table.
Poor Maggie was excessively mortified, and much distressed, not onlyat the loss of the coat, but at that of her little stock of spendingmoney. Mamma made the last good to her; but told her she should not doso again if she acted without thought; and begged her to take counselof some older person when she felt inclined to help those she did notknow.
So Maggie had “learned experience,” and since that time had beencareful to ask advice before she allowed her sympathies to run too farwith her.
Bessie on Her Travels Page 15
