SUNSHINE FACTORY. BY PANSY. BOSTON: D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, FRANKLIN ST. , CORNER OF HAWLEY. COPYRIGHT BY D. LOTHROP & CO. 1878. * * * * * [Illustration] SUNSHINE FACTORY. "Oh, dear! it always _does_ rain when I want to go anywhere, " criedlittle Jennie Moore. "It's too bad! Now I've got to stay in-doors allday, and I know I shall have a wretched day. " "Perhaps so, " said Uncle Jack; "but you need not have a bad day unlessyou choose. " "How can I help it? I wanted to go to the park and hear the band, andtake Fido and play on the grass, and have a good time, and pull wildflowers, and eat sandwiches under the trees; and now there isn't goingto be any sunshine at all, and I'll have to just stand here and see itrain, and see the water run off the ducks' backs. " "Well, let's make a little sunshine, " said Uncle Jack. "Make sunshine, " said Jennie; "why how you do talk!" and she smiledthrough her tears. "You haven't got a sunshine factory, have you?" "Well, I'm going to start one right off, if you'll be my partner, "replied Uncle Jack. [Illustration] "Now, let me give you three rules for making sunshine: First, don'tthink of what might have been if the day had been better. Second, seehow many pleasant things there are left to enjoy; and, lastly, do allyou can to make other people happy. " "Well, I'll try the last thing first; and she went to work to amuseher little brother Willie, who was crying. By the time she had himriding a chair and laughing, she was laughing too. "Well, " said Uncle Jack, "I see you are a good sunshine-maker, foryou've got about all you or Willie can hold now. But let's try what wecan do with the second rule. " "But I haven't anything to enjoy; 'cause all my dolls are old, and mypicture-books all torn, and--" "Hold, " said Uncle Jack; "here's a newspaper. Now let's get some funout of it. " "Fun out of a newspaper! Why, how you talk. " But Uncle Jack showed her how to make a mask by cutting holes in thepaper, and how to cut a whole family of paper dolls, and how to makepretty things for Willie out of the paper. Then he got a tea-tray andshowed her how to roll a marble round it. And so she found many pleasant amusements; and when bedtime came shekissed Uncle Jack, and said: "Good-night, dear Uncle Jack. " "Good-night, dear little sunshine-maker;" said Uncle Jack. And she dreamed that night that Uncle Jack had built a great house, and put a sign over the door, which read: SUNSHINE FACTORY, _Uncle Jack and little Jennie_: [Illustration] [Illustration] MOLLIE'S THANKSGIVING. She was on the way to the grocery. She had a broken-nosed pitcher, andwas going for two cents' worth of molasses. Her face was bright, butit grew sober as she passed grandfather. His white head was bowed overhis hand, and the blue old eyes were dim with tears. Mollie stoppedand laid a little hand lovingly on his white head. [Illustration] "It will be a nice dinner, grandpa;" she said, and her voice was sweetand loving. "We've got a little meal, and a little sour milk, and I can make alovely johnny-cake, and there are two cents for molasses to eat itwith, and there are two potatoes to roast, and maybe I can get anapple to bake for sauce. Grandpa I think it will be a niceThanksgiving dinner. " "Poor darling!" said grandpa, wiping his eyes, "you are something tobe thankful for, if the dinner isn't. But I wasn't thinking of dinner, Mollie. I know it will be good if you get it. Grandfather was thinkingof his little boy Dick. It was on a Thanksgiving day that he wentaway, seventeen years ago to-day. It makes old grandfather think ofhim whenever the day comes round; though there isn't often a day thatI don't think of him, for the matter of that. " "But he's a going to come back on Thanksgiving day, you know; and whatif this should be the very day. Grandfather, I'm going around by thedepot after my molasses, then if I meet him, I can show him the wayhome. " But grandfather only shook his head. "It's a pretty thought, child, and I'm glad you've got it to help you through the days; but yourUncle Dick will never come home again. I feel it all through me that Iwill never see him on earth. " "And I feel it all through me that you _will_. Why I _know_ he'llcome. This morning when I prayed for him to come to-day for sure, Imost heard the angel saying, 'Yes, Mollie, he shall. '" Grandfather smiled and sighed. "You've almost heard him a many timesbefore, " he said; "but keep on listening, dear, it keeps your heartwarm; and we'll eat our Thanksgiving dinner, and thank the Lord forit, and be as happy as we can, for there's many a body has no dinnerto eat. I'm sure I don't know where ours is to come from to-morrow. " Mollie shook her brown head. "Now, grandpa, you are not to coax me tokeep these two cents and go without our molasses. I've set my hearton a Thanksgiving dinner. I told Jesus I loved him very much forsending these pennies; and we don't want our to-morrow's dinner tillto-morrow comes. I'm going now for the molasses, and I shall go aroundby the depot;" and she kissed her grandfather on his white hair, onhis nose, on both sunken eyes, and kissing her hand to him as she ranacross the street, she was soon out of sight. [Illustration] "I wonder which street I would better go?" she said, stopping at thecorner, and looking each way with a wise air. "If one only knew whichstreet Uncle Dick _might_ take in coming from the depot, one wouldknow how to decide. I don't see why grandpa should think I am foolishin talking so; of course if Uncle Dick is alive, he will come homesome day, and it _might_ be to-day. What if I have said so a good manytimes, it is true every day, and will be till he comes. I most know heis alive, for people always hear, some way or other, when theirfriends die. I'm going down Allen Street; that's the shortest roadfrom the depot;" and she turned the corner so suddenly that she ranright against this tall man who had a large valise strapped over hisshoulder, and a satchel by the hand. "Softly, softly, my lassie, " he said, as Mollie stopped out of breath. "You nearly tipped me over, to say nothing of yourself. Perhaps whileyou are finding your breath, you can tell me where to find MarhamStreet. " "Yes, sir, I can; I just came from there. I live on that street. Itis a good long way from here, and you turn up and down about everylane you come to. If you will wait till I go to the store for mymolasses, I can show you the way. The store is just down that block, and across the road. " "All right; go ahead. I'll follow. So you are going after molasses, for mother to make a Thanksgiving cake, I dare say. " "No, sir, " said Mollie, and her voice took a sober tone, and she shookher brown head with a sigh. "I haven't got any mother; she died when Iwas a little bit of a girl. I live with grandpa, and we never have anycake; we are too poor; but we are going to have a Thanksgiving dinnerfor all that. I will have that little, when it only comes once ayear. We have two lovely big potatoes roasting at the fire, and I knowhow to make perfectly splendid johnny-cake, and we are to have thismolasses to eat with it, because it is Thanksgiving. I did mean tohave a dessert, like grand folks. I was going to have two apples andmake some lovely apple-sauce, but I had to give that up. Perhaps bynext Thanksgiving, Uncle Dick will come home, if he doesn't cometo-day, and then maybe we can have dessert too. " "Are you expecting Uncle Dick to-day?" "Oh, yes; we expect him every day, but mostly on Thanksgivings, for itwas then he went away. " "Where did he go to?" "Out to Australia, sir; ever so many years ago; seventeen years agoto-day. Grandfather thinks he is lost, but I don't. " Mollie was so busy picking her way across the muddy street that shedidn't see the start the man beside her gave, nor the red blood thatrolled over his dark face as he said: "What is your grandfather'sname?" "Elias Miller, sir; and he is the best man on the street; oh I guesshe's the best in the city. I do wish Uncle Dick would come home andtake care of him. If he knew how much he was needed he couldn't helpit. " "He'll come, " said the tall man, striding on very fast; "which is theway? Oh, you want the molasses;" and while they waited in the store, he picked out a dozen rosy apples and had them put up; Mollie watchingwith eager eyes. What if he should be going to give her one of them topay her for showing the way. If he did, grandpa should have hisdessert. The end of this story is one that is very hard to write. How can I tell you in a few lines about the walk home, and about howthe tall gentleman carried the molasses, and said he would step in andsee grandpa a minute, and how grandpa's eyes, dim and old as theywere, yet knew in a minute that his own boy Dick stood before him, andhow they talked and laughed, and cried, and had a wonderful dinner;every one of the twelve rosy apples bubbled into sauce; nor how theymoved the next day out of that street entirely into the nicest oflittle houses, and how roasted potatoes and apple-sauce came to beevery day matters to Mollie, and how she made the dearest littlehousekeeper in the world. You see it can't be done; it sounds like afairy story, but Mollie knows that it all happened. [Illustration] [Illustration] FISHING. Stuart Milburn did not feel very good-natured. "The whole world hasgone crazy, " he muttered; "anyway this little snipe of a village has. Why can't they let a fellow alone? I don't want them to look after me, and I don't feel in need of their interference either. I never sawsuch a time; I can't turn in any direction but some old maid will askme something stupid; and the girls are as bad, and the boys areworse. " Now, what do you suppose all this was about? You will be surprisedwhen you hear, for no doubt you think from his picture that Stuart wasa sensible boy. The truth of the matter was just this: Stuart's home was in the city, but he had come to the country to spend the summer vacation at hisuncle's, and have a good time. In his uncle's family were fivecousins, three boys and two girls. Robert, the oldest, was five yearsolder than Stuart, and, being a college graduate, Stuart looked up tohim and respected his opinion. He, as well as the others, wereChristians. [Illustration] Now, it so happened that when the family of cousins heard that Stuartwas coming to spend the summer, they entered into an agreement to prayfor him every night and morning, and to do every thing that they couldto get him to be a Christian. A most reasonable and unselfish thing, you will say. What would Stuart have thought of them if they hadpossessed any other good thing in this world, and had kept allknowledge of it to themselves! But it was this very thing that had vexed him, and sent him off alonewith Tiger, that summer morning, instead of joining the cousins intheir fun. And yet they had been very pleasant about it all; they hadnot tried to force him into doing anything that he did not want todo. I hardly know what made him so absurd. "Stuart, " his Cousin Will said, "I wish you were going to Yale with methis fall. " "I wish I were, with all my heart, old fellow, " said Stuart, with theutmost heartiness. "I worked like a Jehu to get ready to enter, but Ididn't accomplish it; never mind, just you look out for me next fall. I'll be there as sure as my name is Milburn. " "Stuart, " his Cousin Robert said, a little later, as they were comingup the walk together, "I wish you were going this road to heaven withme, " and Stuart answered nothing and looked annoyed and wished hiscousin would let him alone. Now, if you see any sense to that you seemore than I do. As to the "old maids" there was only one of them in his uncle'sfamily, and as she was his own mother's own sister, and he had oftenbeen heard to say that she was the very best old aunty that a fellowever had, one would think he might have excused her for wanting him togo to heaven where his mother had been waiting for him for threeyears. However he didn't. It was her softly spoken sentence as they rose fromprayers that morning: "I prayed for you all the time, Stuart, " thathad sent him off in a pet with his fishing rod over his shoulder. "You may go along, " he said to Tiger; "thank fortune you can't talk;if you could no doubt you would ask me to go to prayer-meetingto-night. What a preaching set they are! I wish I had known it, and Iwould have steered clear of them and gone home with Randolph. Well, I'll have one good day; there isn't a house within four miles of thepoint where I am going, and fishes can't preach. I will live in restfor one morning. We will have some good rational enjoyment all byourselves, won't we, Tiger? And carry home a string of trout for AuntMattie, to pay her for looking so sober at us this morning. " Saying which he snapped his fingers cheerily at the dog, and sent himin search of a ground squirrel, and made believe that he was perfectlyhappy. What do you suppose came into Stuart's mind and heart beforehe had held his rod in the water ten minutes, and followed him up witha persistent voice all the morning? Nothing so very new nor strange, nothing but what he had known ever since he was a little boy fiveyears old, and had stood at his mother's knee, one summer Sundaymorning, and said it to her; it was just this little verse: "Followme, and I will make you fishers of men. " It was wonderful with what a clear voice that seemed to be said overin his ear. He looked around him once, startled, half expecting to seesome one, and once he muttered: "I was mistaken, I see, about thefishes; they have caught the preaching fever, and can do it as well asany of them. " But afterwards there came a wiser thought; those were the words ofJesus Christ; what if he were repeating them in his ear. Did he reallyand truly want him, Stuart Milburn, to follow him? "Pshaw, " said Satan, "that was said to the fishermen at Galileehundreds of years ago. " Still came the mysterious sentence: "Followme;" "fishers of men!" he said over aloud; "what a strange idea. Worthwhile, though, to catch men. I should like to be able to lead people. They wouldn't be led, though, I suppose any more than I will. " Over and over sounded the verse, "Follow me. " Stuart grew very grave. The moments passed; a fish jerked and wriggled at the end of his linein vain; he did not notice it. Tiger jumped at his heels and talkedloudly in his way, but the fisher paid no attention. An importantquestion was being settled. Suddenly he jerked out his rod, threw back the fish into the water andwound up his line. "Come, Tiger, " he said; "let's you and I go to the woods and find theboys; I have made up my mind to 'follow. '" Up in her own little room at home, his Cousin Sarah, who was justStuart's age, and thought he was almost perfect, locked her door andprayed this prayer: "Dear Jesus: He has got vexed at us all and gone off fishing, byhimself. Don't let him have a good time at all; don't let him have anymore good times until he finds them in thee. " [Illustration] [Illustration] RAY'S MORNING. There is a little nestling among the bed-clothes, and then a ringingvoice says: "Well, mamma, here I am; good-morning. Shall I tell you anice pretty story this morning, while you comb your hair?" "Oh, yes, indeed. " "Well, once there was a man named Peter, and a naughty king namedHerod put him in prison. Prisons are great big stone houses with ironwindows, where they put naughty men. Peter wasn't naughty, but KingHerod was; and he fastened him to two soldiers; he put chains aroundhis wrists, you know, and then around each soldier's wrist. Then theylocked the doors and locked and bolted the great big gate, and wentaway. Peter went to sleep; and in the night he heard some one say tohim, 'Get up, Peter, quick; and put on your cloak and come with me. 'Then Peter opened his eyes, and there stood an angel; then he hurriedand put on his cloak and his belt, and they went out, he andJesus--the angel was Jesus hisself, you know--and they went by thesoldier, and the soldier didn't say a word; and Peter wondered andwondered how they would get through that big gate that was locked upso tight; but when they came to it, open it swung--there didn'tanybody touch it at all--then they went through and went down thestreet, and pretty soon Peter turned around to say something to Jesus, and he was gone! He had gone back to heaven, I suppose. "Down street a little ways there was a woman lived, and her name wasMary, and she had a prayer-meeting at her house; ever so many peoplecame to prayer-meeting, and they prayed to Jesus to take care of Peterand let him get out of prison. Peter knew there was a prayer-meeting, so he thought he would go to it; and he knocked at the gate (they hadto knock at the gate when they went to see Mary), and a girl namedRhoda went to see who was there; and instead of letting him in, sheran back and said: 'Oh, don't you think, Peter is at the gate. ' Thenthe folks said: 'Why, no, he isn't; Peter is in prison, and the dooris locked, and the soldiers have the keys. You are mistaken. ' But shesaid: 'No, I ain't mistaken; I _know_ it is Peter. ' So they 'sputesabout it and Peter kept knocking, knocking, and pretty soon some ofthem said: 'Come, let's go see who is knocking, that Rhoda thinks isPeter;' so they went to the gate and there they saw him, and they knewhim and they were so glad to see him; they opened the gate and let himin, and they all wanted to talk to him at once, but he beckoned tothem to keep still, and then he told them how Jesus came down out ofheaven and woke him up, and got him out of prison. Isn't that a nicestory, mamma?" "A splendid story, darling; and every word of it is true. That wasyour own Jesus that you pray to, who took care of Peter and helped himout of prison. " "I know it am, mamma; I know all about him. Now, shall I tell youanother story?" "Oh, yes; I like your stories when they are as nice as this one. " "Well, now listen; this is my other story and it is all true: 'Neighbor Phinney had a turnip, And it grew behind the barn; And it grew and it grew, an' And it ne'er did any harm. 'And it grew, and it grew, As, until it could grow no better, Then Farmer Phinney took it up And put it in his cellar. 'And it lay, and it lay, Until it began to rot; And his daughter Sarah took it up, And put it in a pot. 'And it boiled, and it boiled, As long as it was able; And his daughter Mary took it up, And put it on the table. 'Then Farmer Phinney and his wife, When they sat down to dine, They ate, and they ate, And they thought that turnip fine. '" "There, isn't that a nice story, mamma?" Mamma, feeling a tremendous distance between that story and the lastone, concludes that it is time to give the boy his morning bath, andkiss his little tongue into quiet for a few minutes. [Illustration] [Illustration] NETTIE'S VISIT. It was July, and the great city was very hot. Day after day the fierysun rose and blazed away with all his might on the dusty pavements andheated houses. All the people too who could were leaving the city. But the poor were obliged to stay, no matter how the sun beat downinto their narrow streets and small stifling rooms. There had been norain for a long time; many people were sick and dying, and the worldlooked very dark to some of them. Mrs. Holmes lived high up in thetopmost rooms of a tall block of buildings. Her rooms were small andhot, for the sun shone into her windows and upon the roof all the longday. She was a seamstress and a widow with one little daughter, Nettie. Mrs. Holmes was very sad and troubled, for Nettie had not been wellall the spring, and now she seemed like a little wilted flower; nostrength, nor appetite, though mamma denied herself everything thatshe could to get nice little things to tempt her darling. The doctorhad said she must have change of air, must go into the country. Hemight just as well have said she must go to Europe, for Mrs. Holmeshad no dear old home in the country waiting to welcome her; no uncles, aunts and cousins, writing "When will you come?" So she sat throughthe long afternoon and tried to sew as well as she could with theheat, and the flies, and her sad thoughts. Nettie was lying on the bed asleep, her little face as white as thepillow. "She is going to slip right away from me, and leave me alone, " thepoor mother groaned to herself. "Oh, Father in heaven, help me!" shecried. "Show me what to do for my dear little daughter. " The help wasnearer than she thought. "Mamma, " said Nettie, sitting up very suddenly, "I had a nice dream; Iguess I was in the country, for there were trees all around, andgreen grass, and birds singing; and such beautiful flowers! Are thereany flies there?" she said, as she brushed a troublesome one from herface. The tears came in her mother's eyes, for she remembered dimly thepleasant cool rooms, darkened by blinds and shade trees, wherescarcely a fly dared set it's foot, but that was long ago. Mrs. Bertrand lived in the city, too, and she was a widow also. Thedifference between her and Mrs. Holmes was that Mrs. Bertrand had agreat deal of money, and lived on the broad avenue, in a stone house, with marble steps. She lived there winters, but as soon as the firstwarm days came she packed all her handsome dresses into her trunks, and started for her house in the country, a lovely spot on the shoreof the bay. There she spent the pleasant summers, rambling over herbeautiful grounds, resting under the shade trees, or sailing on thebay. Now, she was not selfish and cold-hearted, if she _was_ a richlady; she truly loved the Lord Jesus, and loved to do his will. So ithappened that while Mrs. Holmes sat in her attic, and begged the Lordto send her help, that Mrs. Bertrand sat in her beautiful home, gazingout on the blue waters, and off to the misty hills and rosy sky. Herheart swelled with thankfulness, and she asked the Lord what to donext for him. How easy it is for God to answer people's prayers, ifthey would only believe it! [Illustration] She sat and thought a long time of different persons, wondering whatshe could do for them. But the thoughts that came oftenest, and wouldnot go away, were of poor sick little Nettie, and her sad youngmother. "Yes, I'll do it, " she said; "I wonder I had not thought of itbefore. " Then she went to her writing desk, and wrote a letter andsent it off. Now let us go and hear it read. "A letter for me!" said Mrs. Holmes. "How strange! Who would write to_me_?" The letter was from Mrs. Bertrand, and it said: "I want you and Nettieto come right away and spend the summer with me. I am sure the freshair will cure her. " But that was not all. There was money enough sentto pay their expenses, and buy them each a traveling dress, and someother things. I can't tell you much about how Nettie screamed for joy, and how hermother cried, then both laughed, and both cried; but I know that notlong after two very happy beings dressed in gray, took the morningboat and were brought safely to Mrs. Bertrand's door. Then how theyrode and sailed, and took long rambles, and gathered flowers, andthought the time spent in sleep was wasted. The favorite seat was in the balcony, where Nettie could watch thesea-gulls come and go, and where you may see them all this minute, Nettie, and her mother, and Mrs. Betrand, with her basket of flowers. Nettie's cheeks are getting round and rosy, and it is hard to say whois happiest of them all; but Mrs. Bertrand must be, because you knowit says: "It is more blessed to give than to receive. " [Illustration] [Illustration] WARREN'S VERSE. He is a little bit of a fellow. He can't read any more than a mousecan; but he is very fond of standing in this way, beside his mother, while she points to the words and pronounces them; then it is easy toread them. Last Tuesday morning he was reading this verse: "A fool despiseth hisfather's instruction: but he that regardeth reproof is prudent. "There were two listeners to this lesson. Warren's father in the studywas having a great hunt after some papers, but in his haste hecouldn't help stopping to listen to the sweet little voice repeatingthe long words. "Mamma, " he called at last, "seems to me that is a long verse, and onealmost beyond the little man's understanding isn't it?" Mamma laughed. "I think so, " she said. "But the trouble is Warrendoesn't; his sister Laura has been learning this verse, and he wantsto. " In the little reading-room opening from the study, Uncle Warren, a gayyoung chap who was boarding at his sister's, listened and laughed overthe words that sounded so queerly, coming from the baby lips. Overand over they were repeated: "A fool despiseth his father'sinstruction: but he that regardeth reproof is prudent. " As he listenedUncle Warren's handsome face grew sober, he was writing letters, andmany papers were strewn before him. He took up one of them and read itover: "Dear old fellow:--You have buried yourself in your sister's arms longenough. Don't be tied to her apron-string; come down to-night, we aregoing to have a real jolly time in Joe's room. Mum is the word. " Uncle Warren laid it down again and took up another. It read: "Don't allow yourself to be caught in places where everything is to bekept secret. When boys begin to keep their pleasures from their bestfriends, it generally shows there is something wrong. I've been alittle worried about your evenings. I hope you will be prudent as tohow you spend them. Remember you are your father's only son. " [Illustration] Over the first reading of this letter, Warren had said, "Poh!Fiddlesticks! He thinks I am a baby, " and laying it down had begun areply to the other, that read thus: "Dear Dick:--I'll be on hand, though I don't suppose our governors would like it much. " Little Warren, in the other room, went on struggling with the longwords, "A fool despiseth his father's instruction: but he thatregardeth reproof is prudent. " How exactly to the point it was, evenabout the prudent part. It startled him a little. He tore Dick'sletter into little bits, while he listened and thought. Then he tookup his father's letter once more and read it over slowly; then with asudden decided movement, he tore the letter he was writing intohalves, and put it into the waste basket, and rapidly wrote this init's place: "Dick:--I can't come. My father wouldn't approve; neitherwill yours. In haste, Warren. " Then he went out and kissed little Warren on his nose, on his eyes, onhis chin, three times for each; and that was all that either thelittle boy or his mother knew about the work that had been done in thelibrary. [Illustration] BROWN TOMMY. Not Tommy Brown, but Brown Tommy. He was all in brown from tip to toe. His hair was brown by nature, and the sun had browned his face andhands. His eyes were a lovely dark brown. He went on a journey on thecars with his mamma, and this is the way he was dressed. He had abrown merino dress, kilt skirt and jacket, with rows and rows ofbrown buttons all over it; there were two pockets in the jacket; hisbrown cloth gloves were peeping out of one, and the corner of hishandkerchief, that hung out of the other, had a brown flower on it. His stockings were all brown, and his waterproof cape that was hangingon his shoulders was just the color of his stockings. Then he had aCentennial hat, three-cornered, such as old soldiers used to wear ahundred years ago; it had a long brown plume on it. This was BrownTommy. How did he act? Well, not so nicely as he looked, I am sorry to say. On the cars, in the seat before him, was a lady who tried to talk withhim, but he saw fit not to answer any of her questions. She seemed tothink he was a timid little boy, who must be coaxed into knowing her;so she talked on, in a pleasant winning voice. At last she turned tohis mamma, and said: "Your little boy _can_ talk, I suppose, or is hetoo young?" Just that moment, up spoke Brown Tommy, and what he saidwas: "Did you ever count all the buttons on your dress, or don't youknow how to count so many?" This seemed to astonish the lady verymuch. Her dress was trimmed in the new fashion, with rows and rows ofbuttons, and Tommy, who is rather mixed up in his counting, seemed tothink that it would take a very smart woman to count them all. Havingonce found his tongue, he kept on pouring out the questions till thelady must have wondered what had become of his timidity. He asked herwhat was the name of the place where she lived, and how many churchesthere were, and whether she went to church every Sunday, and whethershe sat as still as a mouse. By the time they reached their journey'send, Brown Tommy and the lady knew each other very well; at least, heknew all about her. She said she had never been asked so manyquestions before in her life. [Illustration]