The Big Nightcap Letters Part 9

"'Ah me!' sighed Arthur, 'I suppose Jumbo is like the rest; he is indulging in ILL TEMPER, too.'

"'Not quite that,' observed his mother; 'but animals have _memories_.'

"'I think you had better say that they are spiteful, mamma.'

"'Perhaps they are, my son; but they have no reason, while _we_ are capable of controlling our impatience, and governing our pa.s.sions, if we ask G.o.d to help us.'

"Upon this Arthur fairly broke down; and, bursting into tears, sobbed out--'Oh, dear mamma, I understand the lesson I have received from every one to-day. Do believe that I will try with all my strength to conquer my ill temper: I promise you. Do, please mamma, forgive me.'

"His mother wound her loving arms around her son, and tenderly kissed him, and said--'I forgive you, my dear child, with all my heart, and we will both pray to our Heavenly Father to send down His Holy Spirit to guide and direct your efforts to do right. You have borne your disappointments to-day with patience and resignation; and I feel that you will soon be the good, sweet-tempered boy, you were a year ago.'

"Arthur kept his promise, and whenever he was tempted to give a cross answer, or get in a pa.s.sion, he was sure to remember in time the celebrated day when everybody, by his mother's instructions, attempted his cure, by showing him, in their own persons, the unlovely consequences of indulging in

ILL TEMPER."

"What a nice story!" exclaimed the children, "and what a good way of curing Arthur--better than a hundred whippings. When we do any thing bad, mamma, you must punish us Aunt f.a.n.n.y's way. Couldn't you punish us for something now?"

The little mother laughed at this comical request, and said--"I can't think of any thing just now to punish you for; and I hope you don't want to do any thing naughty on purpose."

"O dear, no!" cried the children, but George, with a good-humored twinkle in his eye, added--"At any rate, mamma, the next time Harry puts salt into the sugar-bowl, and makes me spoil my coffee, I intend to put powdered sugar into the salt-cellar for him to sprinkle over his stewed oysters."

"Oh, do!" cried all the children; "only think of oysters and sugar!

perfectly dreadful!"

"'Well,' said Harry, laughing, 'I shall have to buy a snuff-box, then, and keep it in my pocket full of salt.'

"'But don't forget yourself,' said Anna, 'and politely offer a pinch of it to the first old lady you meet; she might think you meant to play a trick upon her, you know.'

"'What an idea!' cried Harry; 'I wouldn't do such a thing; I should think it would make her sneeze worse than any snuff. Wouldn't it?'

"'The best way to find that out,' said George, with a roguish smile, 'would be to take a good pinch yourself.'

"While this conversation had been going on, little Johnny had disappeared in the pantry; and now, at this very moment, he came out, screaming: 'Oh! my nose hurts! my nose hurts!' and ran to his mother.

"It seems that, anxious to find out what kind of snuff salt would make, he had privately walked into the pantry, and had snuffed and poked quite a quant.i.ty into his poor little nose, and now it smarted as if twenty hornets had stung him at once; and he jumped up and down with the pain.

"They had a great time soaking his nose in warm water, and felt very sorry for him, though they could not, for their lives, help laughing when George said that Johnny had salted and pickled his nose so well, that it would keep in the hottest weather; at any rate, it would last him as long as he lived; which comforted Johnny very much, for he thought that it might have to be cut off to get the salt out.

"After this they bid everybody good night, and went to bed, and Johnny said he felt 'pretty _compertuffle_.' His mother had told him that 'good little Henry,' of whom you have read, always said 'compertuffle' for 'comfortable,' and Johnny thought it was just the right word to express his feelings."

THE FIFTH LETTER.

THE ROSE CROWN.

_For Clara._

DEAR, TENDER-HEARTED LITTLE CLARA:--In the olden time, there was a beautiful superst.i.tion in Germany, that on Christmas eve our Saviour, just as he was when a little child here below, comes at midnight in at the door, and fills all those children's shoes with gifts, who have followed His example of goodness and obedience. You know that _you_ hang up your _stockings_, and Santa Claus comes down the chimney; but the little German children believe that they are far more blessed. It is a beautiful idea, for it brings Him, who for our sakes became a little child on earth, more closely and lovingly to the children's hearts. They grow up sure of His love and sympathy, from infancy to old age.

I have asked Sarah ("the doctor") to write me another story after the German fashion, on purpose for you. She has given me this "Rose Crown;"

and the story turns upon the sweet and solemn belief of the German children.

You will perceive that the little Gottfried in the story thought of this with such intensity, and with such perfect faith in its truth, as to cause him to walk in his sleep, like a somnambulist. No doubt your dear mother can tell you many strange and extraordinary stories of somnambulists, who do the most wonderful and startling things while in this kind of trance state, of which they are utterly unconscious when they awake.

I hope this story will please my dear little Clara; it is called

THE ROSE CROWN.

"It was Christmas eve, and a cold winter's day. The flakes of snow fell softly and thickly, and had already covered the earth with a white cloak.

"At one of the windows of the large house that stands on the top of the hill, where the purple violets first peep out in the spring-time, stood the little Gottfried and his sister Marie.

"'Only look, dear Marie,' said Gottfried, 'how fast the snow falls! What large flakes! They look like little milk-white doves.'

"'It is the Mother Holle shaking her feather-beds,' cried Marie, laughing; and looking up towards the sky, and beckoning with her hand, she sang--

"'Mother Holle, Good wife Holle, Fill the meadows fair and full: Stay not, pause not, Shake away, Make the snow fall fast to-day.'

"'Oh! I can sing a prettier song than thine,' said Gottfried. 'Listen, now. The good wife Katarine taught it to me;' and he sang--

"'See the snow-flakes, Merry snow-flakes!

How they fall from yonder sky, Coming lightly, coming sprightly, Dancing downwards, from on high.

Faint or tire, will they never, Wheeling round and round forever.

Surely nothing do I know, Half so merry as the snow; Half so merry, merry, merry, As the dancing, glancing snow.

"'See the snow-flakes, Solemn snow-flakes!

How they whiten, melt and die.

In what cold and shroud-like ma.s.ses O'er the buried earth they lie.

Lie as though the frozen plain Ne'er would bloom with flowers again.

Surely nothing do I know, Half so solemn as the snow, Half so solemn, solemn, solemn, As the falling, melting snow.'

"'Ah! thy song is sad, brother,' said little Marie: 'it makes me sigh.'

"As she spoke, a little boy, poorly clad, was seen coming up the avenue; and Gottfried exclaimed--'Here comes Heinrich!' and running out of the room, he presently returned, leading by the hand Heinrich, the little f.a.ggot-maker, whose mother, a poor but pious widow, lived in a hut just out of the village.

"'Why, Heinrich, where hast thou been this cold day?' asked Marie.

"'Taking my f.a.ggots to Herr Kaufferman's,' said the poor boy. 'But oh, Gottfried, they have there the most beautiful Christmas Tree!' and then Heinrich paused and sighed.

"'And to-night the dear Christkindchen, or Holy Child, will bring them presents,' said Gottfried. 'I hope he will fill _thy_ shoes full.'[A]

"'Alas! the Christ-child never comes to me,' said Heinrich.