Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1874 — BESSIE’S THANKSGIVING. [ARTICLE]

BESSIE’S THANKSGIVING.

“ Mamma,” said little Bessie Winton, “we are going to have three holidays. ” “ Indeed!” returned her mother, wondering somewhat that Bessie should be so quiet over it. “ How happens that?” “ Why, you see, day after to-morrow will be Thanksgiving, and as we have Saturday, anyway, I suppose Miss Wenfworth thinks we might as well have Friday, too.” “ Well, child, are you sorry?” “ No, I don’t know that I am. Ido not think I care much about it, cither way. I would as lief go to school as to play.” Now, perhaps you think little Bessie was very fond of her teacher, her playmates and her books. But lam sorry to say that, the tone in which she spoke those words implied—not a fondness for these, but—simply an indifference toward her play. Her mother observed as much, for she had not been slow to see the spirit of discontent which had lately come to take possession of her little daughter’s heart, and very deeply did she regret it. No matter how interesting the game of play in which Bessie engaged, she soon tired of it. If alone, she was dissatisfied because she had no one to play with her. If playing with others, she fancied every one was trying to slight her and that each one had a better place in the game than she. So it' naturally came to pass that the girls became tired of trying to please her and she was often left quietly by herself. “ Are you growing more fond of your books?” asked Mrs. Winton, in reply to Bessie’s statement. no ; I shall never like books. But there’s no fun in being poked up in this old house all day, so I may as well be in school” Mrs. Winton took no notice of this remark, and presently Bessie continued, in a still more discontented tone: “ Miss Wentworth wants we should think of all the things we have to be thankful for, and tell her to-morrow. 1 think that’s a queer thing to ask us.” “It strikes me as being a very good question. It may put you all thinking.” “ I don’t think it will take me long to tell mine. Of course, girls like Emma Roberts have something to be thankful about. Her father is rich, and buys her everything she wants. She has horses to drive out whenever she likes, and a splendid house to live in, and plenty of servants to wait upon her. The day I went home with her she took me all over their house, and there are thirty,-£our rooms in it.” “Ah!” thought Mrs. Winton, “that solves the mystery. It was just about that time Bessie began to grow discontented and unhappy.” Then she said, akud: “ Did you count them, Bessie?” “ Oh, no, indeed! I was too busy looking at the elegant things. But 1 asked Emma how many there were, and that Nancy, who used to live at Aunt Belle’s, heard me, and, when Emma said she was sure she did not know, Nancy said there were just thirty-four.” “How came Emma to take you over the house?” You surely did not ask her.” “No, ma’am; hiancy told her to take me.” “ I thought Emma would not be so silly herself.” “I think it was very kind in her,” returned Bessie, quickly. “Emma is always kind to everybody. She brings lovely flowers from their conservatory and gives to Miss Wentworth. And she has brought loads of grapes for her, and for the girls, too. As for that matter, she has brought fruits of all kinds this whole summer.” “ I presume Emma is very kind. She may be like her mother, who loves to do good.”- “ I should think she might be kind,” said Bessie, now ready for opposition. “ Anybody might be who had everything that money could buy. She will have enough to tell Mists Wentworth abodt.” “By the way, Bessie, with what are you going to begin your list? You may as Weil be thinking.” “ I’m sure I don’t know. I don’t think I filial! try to make out any, I should be ashamed to give only one or two blessings. I can’t think of a single one, now.” _ ?

“ Then I suppose yoti would as lief live in the island of Papiia’as here?” Bessie laughed a little, although she had determined to make a very serious matter of her many deprivations. ; “How is it, Bessie,” continued Mts. Winton, “do you think you would willingly go there to live*” “Of course not,” and the corners of Bessie’s mouth would draw down in spite of her endeavors to look like a much-abused specimen of humanity and present her case in its worst light." “Then Can you not find a beginning for your list in the fact that you were not born in that benighted isle?” i Bessie, remembering a picture she had once seen of "some native Papuans, uttered an expression similar to one they may be supposed to use—“ Ugh!” “ That is not answering my question, Bessie. I Wish you to write the heading to your list?.’ - “Am I to write a list* Miss Wentworth only asked us to tell her.” “ You need not take the written list to school unless you choose, but I should like you to write it for your own good. Get your paper, dear." Now there was one thing in which Bessie took real satisfaction, and that was her penmanship. F«w children of her age could form letters more neatly than could she, so it was with quite a pleasant expression that she seated herself with pen and paper before her. “ What shall I write?” asked she. “Sure enough, what will you? lam quite curious to see.” “ But, really,’ returned Bessie, petulantly, “ I do not know what to say.” “ First of all with ‘ Blessings for which I ought to feel thankful? Perhaps, by and by, you can erase the words ‘ ought to? Bessie colored, but she wrote the sentence as her mother gave it. “ Will that do?” asked she, as she displayed her neat execution. “Very nicely, indeed. Now write your first blessing and then you may go down town with me. I must purchase some new flannels, for it is quite time for you to get on thicker ones.” Going down town was a great treat to Bessie. They lived in the suburbs of the city and she was never allowed to go “down among the stores,” as she expressed it, without being accompanied by some grown person. So she now eagerly set herself to work. “Do you think I had better write that I ought to be thanful I live iH’Anrerica?”'' “If you like. But tell me, first, which you would prefer, England or Papua?” “ Why, England, to be sure.” “ Why that?”

“ Because it is a civilized country. Qh, now I know what I’ll write. Til say I am glad I was born in a civilized country.” And what besides civilized,, dear? Isn’t it a blessing that we can worship our Creator in the form we choose?” “ I might add— ‘ a free, Christian country.’ Will that do?” . “ Yes, that will express your meaning. And now prepare yourself as quickly as possible. It is pretty chilly, so you must dress warmly.” After they had ridden several blocks in one car Mrs. Winton changed to another. “ Why, mamma, we have never been this way before.” “You never have, Bessie. I often come this way.” Presently Mrs. Winton motioned for the car to be stopped. “Are we to get out here?” asked Bessie, unable to conceal her surprise. “Yes, Bessie,” replied her mother, quietly, adding, as they passed to the sidewalk. “ I wish to carry a little jelly to some invalids.” Bessie, quite unconscious that she had been brought here to learn one of those lessons which are not found in books, walked along, chatting about the sights which were so new to her, when suddenly she came to a pause. “0 mamma!” whispered she, “see all those barefooted children. And just think how cold it is!” “ Suppose, Bessie, that, as you do not care for your shoes and stockings, you give them to one of those children.” Bessie looked up in bewilderment. Among all these strange scenes, had her own mother slipped away from her? No, there she stood, apparently Expecting her child would comply with the strange request. 11 Why don’t you take them off? You do not think you woqld miss them, do you? You are no better off with your warm shoes than those children are in their little bare feet, are you?” Bessie understood now. “I see what you mean, mamma. I will not forget to write this blessing down.” “Are you sure -warm clothing is one of the blessings for which you ought to be thankful?” “ Quite sure, mamma,” said Bessie, firmly. “ What are you going to do with those books?” presently asked Bessie, for the first time noticing her mother was carrying some. “ Take one to a boy named Albert , and one to a girl named Lizzie.” “ Let me carry them for you.” , -Mrs. Winton handed them in silence. “ Why, these are Eddie’s. Are you going to give them,away?” “No, only going to lend them. And this is the house where Albert lives.” < “ What dark halls,” said Bessie, as her mother led the way up-stairs. “ Why, are you going up higher?” continued she, as they began to ascend a second flight. “ Yes, just these.” Mrs. Winton lightly knocked, and the door was quickly opened by a little girl, whose face brightened as she saw who stood without. “ How do you do, Ella? I have brought my little girl with me to-day.” Ella smiled shyly, but only said, “ Will you walk in, please, ma’am?” ( Another face as they stepped into the room, and Mrs. Winton, taking Bessie by the hand, led her across the room to where Albert was sitting. “ How do you feel to-day?” “ Better, thank you,” replied Albert, cheerfully. “ You see I have brought you a visitor. This is my little daughter, who is going down street with me; so I can stay but a few minutes to-day. I have brought you another book. Are you ready for one?” “ Yes, ma’am. I finished the last yesterday.” " ~ .... As for Bessie, she dropped into the chair which Ella brought to her, unable to speak one word. Never before had she beheld so pitiful an object as the .poor, deformed boy who now sat before her. Only the head which wafi placed on this poor, misshapen body seemed perfedt. Albert's limbs were badly distorted, and Bessie saw* at a glarice that he could use neither bis hands nor hi* feet as strong and healthy children can. But the face wag one of rare beauty, and in it there dwelt an expression of some-

thing beyond mere contentment—peaceful happiness. Mrs. Winton talked with the little cripple for a few moments, and then, telling him she would come again soon, led her little daughter down the stairs. “Oh, mamma! Isn’t it perfectly dreadful ?’’ cried Bessie, as they reached the street. “ Poor Albert! He is twelve years old, and yet he has never taken a step in his life.” Bessie sighed. Then she looked up in her mother’s face. “I see, mamma! I know of another thing to write.” “ Yes, Bessie,” said her mother, smiling kindly on the thoughtful little face before her. “After all, I have something better than a carriage to ride out in. I have two good feet to carry me,” and a real, live smile came into Bessie’s face. “ And this is where Lizzie lives,” presently said Mrs. Winton. “This is quite a nice-looking little hdiise. I hope no deformed children live here.” Mrs. Winton said nothing, but as the door was opened she again took her little daughter’s hand. “ Ah, Lizzie,” said she, when they had been shown into the room where the little invalid was sitting, “ I am glad to see you up.” A beautiful smile lighted up Lizzie’s face, and then she bent her head forward as if listening to some sound which was new to her. . “ I brought my little Bessie With me,” said Mrs. Winton, placing her child’s hand in that of Lizzie’s. Bessie looked wmideringly at the closed eyes, then seemed slowly to comprehend why it was they were not opened. And into her really kind heart there crept a tender pity for the little sightless one. For a moment her lips quivered, then she burst into tears. “Oh, mamma!” sobbed she, “take me home, and I’ll never be ungrateful any more!” “ My little daughter is trying, to-day, to find out her blessings,” said Mrs. Winton to Lizzie. “ Yes, Lizzie. She has lately grown” forgetful of the many precious gifts her kind father has bestowed upon her, and I think it will do her good to recall some of them. “ I’m sure, Miss Bessie, if you could know what it is to live for years without seeing even one object you would never again forget to thank God for one of His best blessings.” “ And haven’t you seen anything in years?” asked Bessie, who had somewhat recovered herself. “My poor eyes have always been sightless; and so, though I have lived in this world fifteen 7 years, ?Tcah oniy imagine how it looks.” Bessie shuddered, but she could hardly conceive what it must be like to onty imagine how things look. Then she thought how sad it must be to grope one’s way about, guided only by the sense of sound or feeling—and silently she sent up to the Throne of Grace a little prayer of thanksgiving. “I will never forget again,” said she. “I do not believe that I have ever before in all my life thanked God that I can see.” “ Oh, Miss Bessie! how could you help it? Just to think of actually seeing everything around you! Oh. 1 think I should thank Him every minute!” Bessie had spoken the truth. She had never before thanked her Heavenly Father for this rich gift. She was very quiet during the little shopping expedition, and she reached home with a heart :so filled with grateful thoughts she could hardly stop to take her tea, so anxious was she to complete the list of her blessings. Sne sat over the paper a long time ; then, all tremulous with happiness, she carried the list to her mother. “See, mamma, how many I have thought of.” Little Bessie had written a goodly number, and tears filled the fond mother’s eyes as she read the closing sentence: “ I thank God that I have so many kind friends, a pleasant school and a loving teacher, a good mother and father, good health, the use of my senses, and a thousand other things to IDajje happy.” When Bessie read her list at school she was not ashamed of it, and her teacher complimented her upon the view she took of her personal blessings. Having seen what she had to be thankful for, little Bessie was tible to pass a- “ Happy Thanksgiving.”— Rural New Yorker.