Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 February 1875 — Our Little Bennie. [ARTICLE]

Our Little Bennie.

He is a very little boy, with cheeks Hke two red apples and eyes as black as sloes. Maybe you don’t know what sloes are. Well, I shall have to confess I don’t either, but Bennie’s grandma says his eyes are black as sloes, so I take her word for it. I am sorry to say that Bennie is the most mischievous little rogue I ever saw. I hope he will improve as he grows older, but just now he keeps us watching him and running atter him half the time and yet we are not able to keep him out of all the mischief his busy little brgin devises. We are at our wits’end’sometimes to know what to do with such a boy. We didn’t expect it when he came. No, indeed! Such a demure little fellow! He would lie hours gazing at his small round fists or at the ray of light that streamed upon his pillow from the halfdrawn blind. He was such a go'd baby! The box of clothes-pins was all the plaything he wanted till he began to wait. He would sit on the floor and gravely take them out one by one and lay them beside him till the box was empty, and then as gravely put them all in again. Or he would make his little hands fiv among them and scatter them all over the room and then creep about after them. But as soon as be coflld walk he seemed to be possessed wi;h a spirit of research and experiments. He purloined the Ber lin wools from mamma’s work-basket to see how they would curl and crisp on the ,>tove. He unwound and - tangled spools of thread with the greatest industry and cunning. He invented a new piece of mischief every day of his life. I)o you think we wish he hadn’t come? Never! When he gets to the pump and souses himstdf head over hctsjs into the water-trough, and is taken out dripping, we are frightened* half to death lest he should get the croup or some other dreadful thing. We love him dearly. I don’t kn<>w how it is, but his cheeks are so red and sweet, and his lips so smiling and his eyes so black and shiny, and he? loves every one so heartily that we are all ready to 'kiss him before we are done scoldiug him. Last week Bennie kindled a fire in the woodshed with the saw-horse for a fireplace and paftVs hat for a kettle. The consequences might have been serious if his kettle had not leaked so as to put out the fire. He gets Biddy’s dishcloth to tie on bis kite for a tail, and when that is not to be had he takes his otrn small stocking. He sails his shoes in the water pail for boats. He catches the flies on the window pane with his lijttle fat. fingers, pinches them to death ahd

then tries to coax them back to life with sugar from the bowl on the table. The ether day he gave ns the greatest fright we ever had about him, for once I think he got' well geared himself. We have had an old white cow for many a year, so gentle and kind that we could do anything with her. Bennie fed her with wisps of hay when he was a mere baby, and has run under her and rode on her back and carded her with papa’s hatbrush or mamma’s tooth-brush or whatever he could lay hands on nearly every day since. But “ Old Whitey” was sold, and we have a new cow. Bennie was cautioned not to attempt too great familiarity with the new cow. But of course we. didn’t expect him to remember it. We intended to keep an eye on him. But while we were busy here and there he slipped out into the lot where she was feeding. We missed him in three minutes and started in pursuit. He was just approaching the qow with a short-handled broom to scratch her sides. He meant only kindness, but the cow knew nothing about that. “Bennie, Bennie! come away, quick! The cow’ll hook you,” we called out, running with all speed to the rescue. But we were too late. The cow turned suddenly upon Bennie, took him on her smooth, gracefully-curved horns and tossedJiim in the air. Then she stood waiting for him to fall, to catch him again, while we stood with white faces and bated breath. God be thanked! the child fell out of her reach. The fence was near, and he fell on the outside. As soon as Bennie got his breath he relieved our anxiety, giving us ample proof of life and vigor by his screams and cries. Never heard we sweeter sound! When we had examined him, we found neither scratch nor bruise. But I think he has gained a wholesome fear of that cow. —Jay Allison, in Rural New Yorker.