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How ’Biny got her Christmas.
Reasons.
One night after tea, Master Johnnie and
■ I ain’t a little, black, smutty nig,
Sue
*
neither! so there—I ain’t— ain’t—
Sat down at the table their problems to do. ain ’ t !”
Their task was in Buelid, and just about
‘Biny sat down the pan of potatoes
where
she was carrying, flung herself on the
The cirole they wished t’ inscribe in s
lowest cellar stair, and planted both
square.
little black hands firmly on her knees
Both eager began the two lines to draw;
while she glared up at her opponent.
And when the whole thing little Sue
“0 yes, you are!” he cried in the
thought she saw,
greatest glee, and hopping frem one
“My string's in a knot!’’ baby cries with
toe to the other at the storm he had
a shout.
“Quick, Susie, my darling, help clear his raised on the dark little face before
snarls out,”
him—“you know you are awful
Said the mother’s kind voioe; se what black!”
could she do
“ An’ I am goin’ to have a Christ-
But leave mathematics and cope with the mas too, I am! Ma’am Sukey said so
shoe.
-
-
herself,” cried the poor child, working
.One moment, no more! Then back to her .the small fingers nervously, “just pre-
book.
sacly like the white folks. Don’t Mis
O’er the points onoe gained again she must
ter, Jo, spile it—-don't go an’ make
look.
’em not give it to me,"—and she got
Meantime, unmolested, her dear brother
up in her extreme anxiety, and bob
John
bing
her head till every little tail
The first problem finished, to the next
stood on its own respective end, she
plodded on.
Quick as flash Susie worked; the circle peered into her tormentor’s face for
comfort. “Id shine your shoes real
inscribed,
And scarcely the new proposition had tried splendid—an’ 1’11 say you didn’t hook
When again spoke the mother; “It comes the apples offn Mis’ Peters’ tree that
to my mind
I saw you do, an’ I’ll fotch an’ carry
That Johnnie's bine coat wants a button for you just forever if you’ll only let
behind.
em’ give me a Christmas, I will!”
“He can't go to school without it, you
“Give me a Christmas !” screamed
know;
Jo in the utmost derision, and snap
Come Susie, my dear, please let the books
ping his fingers in her face till each
gel
woolly tail vibrated again.
“ Santa
" ‘Twill take but a second, with fiDgers so
Claus don’t came to such black bugs
nimble;
Then jump up, my child, get your ssisaors as you, Catch him! No, siree! You’ve
got to fetch and ca.rry for me, any
and thimble.
way—and 1 shall tell everybody I oee
you don’t want any Christmas, and
you can’t have it—you old horn-bug
_
you!”
This one she made fast; but alas! for the
“ I ain’t adiorn-bug neither!” shriek
thread
ed ’Biny in a perfect howl, every par
Just lost in her book, it had slipped from
ticle of fear gone at the thought of
her head.
,
her longed-for Christmas vanishing
Again she reviewed, worked rapid and from her grasp—“an’ I will have a
well,
Though oft oalled away; indeed I can't Christmas!” The last was almost lost,
in the wail that Master Jo set up, as
tell
she
sprang like a cat and buried both
The number of times that this sister Sue
Was summoned by all, “little things” to little black paws in his long light
hair, repeating at every tweak—“ I
do.
While uninterrupted, Johnnie sat, feeling will have a Christ-mus,—there!”
“ Ow—ow! Take her off—do take
sad
That a sister so osreless of study he had.
her off I” came in shrieks from the
Till, his lessons all learned, he sprang dark cellar, and penetrated up the
from the table, '
stairs, and all over the house—bring
With an air that savored of—“We boys ing a crowd ef astonished rescuers to
are able.”
' _ _
see Master Jo and little black, Biny
Now the house being still, and the hour spinning around and around on the
being late,
old brick floor, while the pan of pota
Susie studies contented that such is her
toes, which had been kicked over be
fate.
tween them, had rattled out all its
When the door opens quick, her father
contents,
which were racing off for a
steps in,
good
time
the
Ives.
“How conld I let Susie those branches
begin!
ious goodness sake;
“For th
” cried old Ma'am
“John's work is accomplished, and he what u
Sul^, who was first down the stairs,
gone to bed;
But you can't give a girl a boy’s clearer
reaching one very black arm she
head.”
grasped ’Biny, who ducked involunta
Sue heard the remark, and she thought a
rily, and released her hold on Master
reply,
But couldn’t quite make it, and good rea Jo’s hair, at her approach—“ Colum
bine Seraphina Scott! I reckin you’ll
son why.
smart
for this 1” And with a stride
She thought if she queried why John did
and a swoop, she hauled her half up
not stay,
And sew on the buttons buret off in his the stairs in the face of the whole
pi«r.
fam'dy assembled at the top.
Or why baby’s tangles he oonldn't dear
“ I—want—a Christ—mus!” came
out,
in
gusts of deBpair from the little black
Or help, now and then ia the running
mouth
—“ eh give me one—do!”
about—
“
A
Christmus!” cried Ma’am Sukey
In short if she said all things she oould
giving her a cuff that set the whole
Woman's rights there would bo, if no array of little tails to trembling so, it
other to pay«
didn’t seem as if they could ever be
Bnt next day at school,’at" be head of |hor still again—“as shore as you’re born,
class, -WSB
yeu never’ll see a Christmas now!”
Ahead of each boy, and ahead of each lass,
“You can’t expect,” said the gentle
Up stood little 8noi and her points proyed little lady of Ukr house, looking at her
as clsar
hopeful son staggering up the staifs
As though she had studied for mauy a
rubbing blindly his aching and tousled
year.
*
head, “to have us do much for you
Both shoulders .Johnnie shrugged,] and
now. I did intend to, ‘Biny; but you
suidjwith a grin:
w.
“Yet girls are no students; they glance, have been very naughty, and—'
“ Ooh—boo—ooh ’’—’Biny flew off
and take in .
- *
The whole of a thema, ere the ‘great in a tangent from Ma’am Sukey’s vio
minds' begin.” .
lent grasp, and flinging herself down
—JGw Northireiit.
flat on her face on the floor, gave free
-—.... —---- ------
—It is not ’necessary to be happy vent to all ihe disappointment in her
about everything. It is only’necessary aching little heart in such howls of
to do right, and to know that God is despair, that all the listeners were
4oing everything right with us. He fain to stop their ears and flee.
| “ Can’t ye stop yer yelping long
’ - will take care of our happiness.
“There, that’s a bright girl! and now run
along!
But first, be quite sure you fasten it
strong.”
i
.
♦
—
PACIFIC CHRISTIAN MESSENGER, FRIDAY, FEB. 13, 1880.
6
•9
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enough for the Missus to talk to yert*
cried Ma’am Sukey, dealing her an
other generous cufi. “Ye whinning—
but ye hain’t no more manners n’ a
cat!”
Bub the little black figure wailing
on, with no signs of stopping, it was
presently picked up unceremoniously
and thrust up stairs into a dark closet
until such a time as her mother should
get her dinner off from her hands,
with leisure to attend'to her.
“ Whicky! won’t she catch it
though !’f said Jo. witnessing ’Biny’s
disappearance. “ I wouldn’t want old
Sukey’s big black paws cttming down
on me 1 I guess she won’t say any
thing more about Christmas for one
spell And when Christmas does come
1’11 get one of those horrid masks
down to Joneses, and look through the
window and give her a scare.”
This so tickled the benevolent Jo
seph, that he went off laughing, for
getting his smarting head, and also
forgetting to tease his small brothers
and sisters for at least three quarters
of an hour.
The night before Christmas came.
’Biny had sobbed herself to sleep long
ago. Eyerybody in the house was
abed. Even old Marm Sukey, tired
with her heavy day’s work getting
ready lor the festivities of the morrow
when a big dinner was on programme,
was snoring heavily in a most delight
ful rest.
All of a sudden ’Biny started up
right into the middle of her little bed
in the corner of the dark room. Start
ed up so find herself sneezing and
sputtering to such a degree that she
thought she should choke to death.
“Why—what—what is it, I won
der?” she stammered, half sleep, and
screwing her little black fists into her
smarting eyes—“ teehee'! ... I can’t
breeve!”
Marm Sukey snored on, and on.
Suddenly 'Biny flew out of her little
bed, dashed out into the hall, and
with little fleet footsteps, ran along
into the main corridor. Here she
turned down an alcove, and rushed
precipitately into Mister Jo’s room.
For a second she stopped, one foot
on the sill.
“He’ll get a burnin’,’’ she said, “ an’
he’s so awful bad to me.” Ah ! the
One who helps little children saved
’Biny now!
Only for a second, The next she
was over by the long woolen curtains
pulling and snatching with quick,
eager hands, to get the long burning
shreds down, and stamping meanwhile
with bare feet on the smouldering
rug where the match had dropped.
Oh, how she worked’! The burning
curtain sent out a flame that, if any
one could have seen, would have
lighted up a picture long to be re
membered ! The dark little faee, tense
and suffering, in which the black,
bead-like eyes were set with a pur
pose strong as death, looked no more
black, but shone even as with heaven
ly light.
“Wake up ! wake up!” she cried.
But Jo tired out with all the fun of
the previous day, slept beavi'y on.
“Oh, dear! my night-gown’s catch
in’!” ‘Biny had a dim, distant notion
of how Marm Sukey would scold if
any harm befell the little yellow flan
nel night-gown, and nerved herself to
further exertions. And new the time
had come when Jo must wake, up, if
ever. The room was so full of stboke,
that ’Biny, with all her efforts, could
scarcely breathe. She left the burn
ing curtains, whose flames were now
only smouldering, and, rushing up to i
the bed, she gave all her strength to
the vigorous shaking of the sleeping
boy.
“ You’ll be stuff-ocated!’-’ she screak
ed in his ear. “Oh, Mister Jo, do
wake up!”
No need for’Biny to work more!
The aroused household, rushing in
snatched her up from the floor, where
she had fallen, as the greatest treasure
the house contained!
“I don’t want no Christmus—I
don’t*' said 'Biny next day, when
conscience-stricken Jo had poured out
the whole tide of his remorse to the
whole family. " Oh, no, I don’t," she
added, raising her little blistered face
to the tearful, grateful ones around
her.
“Why not dear child?” Jo’s mo
ther gave her a loving, tender clasp,
as she sat in her lap, “ Don’t say no,
’Biny—why not?”
“ You shall have—the best Christ
mas,” cried Jo, with a gush of gener
ous feeling, " that can be bought in
this town, ’Biny Soott!” And he gave
her such a hug, that ’Biny sat up
straight as an arrow, and rubbed her
eyes to look at him.
“ But I don’t want one,” she insist
ed, the amazement a little subsiding.
“No, I don’t,” she reiterated, on Jo’s
mother repeating her question, “cause
I got one already,” and she wriggled
her toes, and gave a little squirm of
delight at the thought. “Right in
here—I feel most awful good in here,”
she -finished solemnly, tapping her
breast with her little black forefin
ger.
"Columbine is a good girl, I’ve
allers said, ef she is mine,” declared
Marm Sukey, at sight of all the atten
tion that now fell to ’Biny’s lot, stalk
ing out to the kitchen with, such a
high step of pride,, that her turban
nearly flew off from her head. “ Aw,
she’s awful smart, ef I do say it as
shouldn’t I foreordain nothin’ but
that she’ll have, to be a preacher’s
wife some day, I do ef she keeps on !”
—Demarest’s Monthly Magazine.
“The Solitary.”
Last night as I sat by the fireside
waiting for M'alter to come, feeling so
grateful for home joys and comforts,
for the sweetness of wifehood and
motherhood the years had brought,
my thoughts turned to the multitude
of women who, unblessed by ties like
mine, know not how full of joy life’s
cup may be. I ceuld but pity them
for all they have missed ; but, mingled
with the feeling, was one of reverent
wonder at the work done by some of
them, and I questioned, could they
have done the same work had they
had the varied duties of wife and
mother to perform? Did the greatness
of their service to others make up for
the hunger of their own hearts?
There was the gifted sister of Sir
William Herschel, who shared his
work and midnight vigils with such
untiring devotion and zeal, aiding
him as no other could; the sister of
Wordsworth who was a constant joy
and inspiration, and whose influence
lent to his poetry depth and purity it
would not have had but for her.
“A perfect wouaan nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light.”
all for the home joys deniod them. If
each of them could have been set in
love-blessed homes of their own, oould
they not have done just as good work,
albeit it might have been widely dif
ferent? It seems so sad that they, with
their rich, loving natures, should have
missed the crowning joy of woman-*
hood. Whatever else she may gain,
the true womanly heart must yet
feel.
“A woman’s crown of glory
Is a sinless little child.”
“ I know I must be all my life a
lonely woman, with no home, no fire
side to be wholly my own,” writes one
from the depth of a life-long sorrow,
one whose cup Qf happiness, sparkling
to the very brim,-fell from her eager
lips ere she could fully taste its sweet
ness. Oh, the pathos of her words!
We question why it must be, and she,
grown strong and trustful though
much suffering, makes answer, “ Per
haps. He saw this was the only way
to lead me to Him, before I had never
been drawn half so near as now,”
adding, “If earthly happiness had
made me careless of the heavenly, had
made me an idol worshiper, andjffier
ing has drawn me nearer the o^y one
I ought to worship, would I wish to
change?”!** Brave heart! thus to find
“ sweetness in the Marah cups.” Yet,
why need earthlyJjappiness draw any
away from Him who is the “ giver of
all good gifts?” It is better to come
to Him through suffering than not at
all, but earthly parents like not that
their children sbould think of them
only when trouble comes, and the All
Father must be glad when increases
our love for Him. Too often
"Lips say, ‘God be pitiful,'
Which ne’er said 'God bo praised.' ”
The flowery path, as well as the briar-
strewn one, should lead us heaven
ward.
How true it is that man’s best work
is done through the inspiration of
woman’s love and trust, whether she
be wife, mother, sister or friend.
Though in the love which we may not J \
fathom, God leaves some women with
no home to be wholly their own, yet
He “ hath set the solitary in families”
and gives to each some noble work'
It is not always best that our little
plans should be fulfilled. Often He
destroys what we have so carefully
builded, that ha may build in a larger
way for us. Often at some gate where
we had not thought to enter, duty
stands with the inexorable command g
“There is the way; walk ye in it” Tie
The voice seems stern to us then, but
in after years, we find it to have been
but the sternness of love which would
not let us choose any but the best and
surest way.
Miss Muloch says, most truly, “We
must meet things as they are without
perplexing ourselves about what they
might have been; for, if we believe
in an over ruling providence at all,
there can be no such possibility as
' might have been.”’
Though the roser be gone, violets
and daisies still blossom along the
life-path, and many there are who
when the nightingale’s song, is hushed
yet hear the sweet notes of the lark
dropping from above the clouds. No
matter what sweetness a life may
have missed, if it leads straight on in
findWay °f nght aQd duty’ U « to
And poor Mary Lamb who, despite
the cloud which bung over her life,
gave back measure for measure of her
brother’s self-sacrificing devotion, and
made him feel that the giving up of
his cherished dream for her sake was
not without its rich reward. But
lately gone from our midst was Ca
therine Beecher who, turning from the
broken hopes of her early womanhood
gave herself bo earnestly bo duty that
when, in the “ fullness of time,” she
was called to higher work, her broth “One by one the dreary pUoes
er, out of the love he bore her, gave
Glow with beauty and gush with lithe
her memory this beautiful tribute: One by one God’s finger traces
Moon and stars upon the night.”
“Herself motherless, she became a
mother to all; homeless, she helped to And if this be true of life here how
uplift and make better all homes much more it is true of the other life
around her.” Alice and Phebe Cary,
r
.droam'are
too, were without home-ties, and many ! 7 adde.d.
ftnd preciousneas
others whose well-used talents have | None need be homeless there, or lonp
made the world richer and better.
in vain for companionship.
room
and love for all, and all m ”
Realizing the richness and extent
come
if they wilL—E abwest i„ 7
of the work such women do, is it pre
thur
’
s
Home Magazine.
'
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sumptuous to pity them for what they
have missed? Though honor and fame
—There are in Pittsburg and
came to them in full measure, their immediate vicinity seventv fi
,ltg
g,g*
hearts must sometimes have ached fot works, twenty fouV of whieV
the sweetness of the vanished dreams, ble ware, twenty four wind maket®'
eight fruit jars, ten ^1°*
and no doubt, to each pf them came glass bottles and phS d.
moments when they would have given (chimneys,
’ an^ nine
f
1