THREE HAPPY CHILDREN: A GLIMPSE AT A CONTENTED FAMILY. PUBLISHED IN the INDEPENDENT, MARCH 21, 1861, PAGE 6.
I saw a child's paradise last summer. It happened in this way. I was rambling in a retired neighborhood, not very remarkable for beauty of scenery or tasteful dwellings. The farm-houses were neatly painted, and the barns had an air of well-to-do- plenty, but the scantiness of ornamental trees and shrubbery was somewhat singular. However, in a back street or lane, I came upon a house almost hidden behind hedges, evergreens, honeysuckles, and fruit-trees. it was unpretending, or a quiet color, but its expression (every house has an expression) was cheerful. Feeling tired, I said to myself, "What a good time they must have eating cherries here! I would like to stroll in and rest in this green spot."
Just then, a large black dog sprang out, and startled me very much.
"He won't hurt you, he never bites" -- and there, holding him by the tail, stood a spirited boy, perhaps five years old. His bright, brown eyes were softened by lashes so long and black that they shaded his cheeks, and made his face handsome without regular features.
"Nep barks at peddlers, but he never hurst ladies," said the boy, gallantly.
Desirous of an interview, I asked, "Could you give me a glass of water? I am thirsty."
"Wid the greatest pledure -- shall I bring it here, or will you come into the house wid me? Mama isn't at home, but Katie is."
I inquired: "And who is Katie?"
He looked surprised, as if I ought to know.
"Why! Katie is my sister; she's older than I am, and can ride on horseback -- 'most nine years old."
"And you and Katie are the only children?"
"No indeed! We have a little brother, but he hasn't got to be a little boy yet -- he wears dresses."
The child's innocent politeness was so enticing that I accompanied him into the house. Here I was disappointed. I expected to see a dainty, white-muslin-curtained interior, with pretty hanging baskets and crocheted tidies, etc. Nothing of the kind -- but as much contempt of the ornamental within as there was profusion of it without. A well-worn oil-cloth upon the floor ; no carpet on the stairs and in the parlor -- not an article claiming to elegance, except, perhaps, the piano at which Katie sat practicing.
Katie did not in the least resemble her brother. She had that kind of hair that is "gold in the sun and brown in the shade," and those changeful gray eyes which, without claiming to be the most beautiful, are the most expressive. I must own her nose was "en peu retrousse," but her mouth was bewitchingly dimpled, and kept pace in expression with those thoughtful eyes. She was shy to awkwardness, and evidently glad to run and bring the glass of water, leaving the boy to entertain me.
Having drank, I reluctantly rose to go -- sorry I had no excuse to remain longer. My little beau said:
"Why, you haven't seen the baby -- come up into the nursery, and I'll show him to you."
He took me by the hand with such an irresistible manner that I accompanied him, Katie leading the way with a pleasant look, but saying nothing.
As the nursery door opened, I seemed to be peeping into a fairy paradise. Looking to the East, it had evidently been chosen as the most cheerful room in the house. Little shelves and brackets were in every side and corner, covered with the bright accumulations of many Christmases and birthdays.
Upon a fleecy mat sat a child of nearly two years old, with eyes as blue as robins' eggs, and with great glee over a turtle in a basin of water. The turtle was not larger than a quarter of a dollar, but its lively motions filled the child with ecstasy as he shouted "'urtle! 'urtle!" The nurse, a comely young woman, sat sewing. Occasionally she caught a fly and threw it into the basin. The tiny turtle would seize it, biting off first the head, then the body, and lastly swallowed the wings. This was a cruelty which I could not relish, but the enthusiasm of baby was extraordinary. He shook his yellow hair and clapped his fat hands, squealing with delight. From the baby and his extemporaneous aquarium my eyes wandered about this room.
"Would you like to see me saw?" asked my young master of ceremonies. No sooner said than done! Open flew a closet door -- out came a little saw-horse, a real saw and a real stick of wood, which he vigorously converted into short pieces, that he said were "just the size grandma likes for kindling her fire." Then he proceeded to show me other attractions of the nursery. There was a globe of gold-fish perpetually at play -- a tame cricket, that sang every evening in the closet; a large chrysalis, that was daily expected to emerge a gay butterfly ; some clippings if the leaf-cutter bee ; book-shelves, where Mother Goose held a subordinate place ; -- but what struck me with astonishment were the walls of the room. They were covered, not with whitewash, nor paint, nor fresco ; but from floor to ceiling were pasted engravings! The effect of the black and was was so startling and peculiar, for a moment I thought of some crazy man's fancy ; but soon I discovered "method in the madness." Around the base of the room, with-in range of yearling vision, was a menagerie of all kinds of animals. Baby, following the direction of my eyes, ran pointing with his sharp forefinger, saying "See! see!" to the horses, cows, and goats. His brother called me to a toad-fish, a sea-snake, and all kinds of ships, boats, and steamers. Katie, forgetting her kindness, pointed out Sancho Panza fighting the wind-mills. She introduced me to John Knox, preaching before Mary, Queen of Scots, and, in a few enthusiastic words, touched off that grand old man's character, and her eyes grew black as she pointed out the shadowy temple of fame in Cole's "Voyage of Life."
Every door was wreathed with bright flowers, every window was bordered with color pictures of pleasant scenes in the life of our Savior.
Among all those pictures (and I suppose there were six hundred, large and small) I saw no battle-piece, no scalping Indian, no witch of Endor, no nude stage-dancer, no vulgar caricature -- nothing that could suggest frightful dreams, or tell those young minds of aught but peace and purity, pleasure and beauty, in the world.
"What a capital idea for combining cultivation with amusement for these children!" I thought ; and I asked, "Who made these walls so pretty?"
"Papa brought home the pictures and mamma pasted them up. Last winter Papa thought he must go to the city to live, and he was going to sell this place, but we cried so about leaving our nursery and all our pictures, Papa gave it up."
Happy children ! undazzled by the toys and dress, and artificial novelties of New York city, you have to pure taste to choose your gingham aprons and your country home -- a home where your welfare is evidently the first consideration !"
Happy children ! with your birds and flowers, insects, books, and pictures, you are not studying nature at secondhand, but with your own clear eyes ; and I believe Agassiz himself could learn some natural history from your acute observation.
Happy children ! may you grow up as virtuous as you are innocent, as active as you are intelligent, as benevolent as you will be cultivated.
Sweet sister and brothers, sheltered there from vexation and temptation ! I felt when I passed out of the gate as if I left you in the Happy Valley of Rasselas.
Rodense.