Little Ferns For Fannys Little Friends | Page 3

much; little boys have troubles
as well as grown people,--all the difference is they daren't complain.
Now, I never had a "bran new" jacket and trowsers in my
life--never,--and I don't believe I ever shall; for my two brothers have
shot up like Jack's bean-stalk, and left all their out-grown clothes "to be
made over for George;" and that cross old tailoress keeps me from bat
and ball, an hour on the stretch, while she laps over, and nips in, and
tucks up, and cuts off their great baggy clothes for me. And when she
puts me out the door, she's sure to say--"Good bye, little Tom Thumb."
Then when I go to my uncle's to dine, he always puts the big dictionary
in a chair, to hoist me up high enough to reach my knife and fork; and
if there is a dwarf apple or potatoe on the table, it is always laid on my
plate. If I go to the play-ground to have a game of ball, the fellows all
say--Get out of the way, little chap, or we shall knock you into a
cocked hat. I don't think I've grown a bit these two years. I know I
haven't, by the mark on the wall--(and I stand up to measure every

chance I get.) When visitors come to the house and ask me my age, and
I tell them that I am nine years old, they say, Tut, tut! little boys
shouldn't tell fibs. My brother Hal has got his first long-tailed coat
already; I am really afraid I never shall have anything but a jacket. I go
to bed early, and have left off eating candy, and sweet-meats. I haven't
put my fingers in the sugar-bowl this many a day. I eat meat like my
father, and I stretch up my neck till it aches,--still I'm "little George,"
and "nothing shorter;" or, rather, I'm shorter than nothing. Oh, my Aunt
Libby don't know much. How should she? She never was a boy!

MATTY AND MABEL;
OR,
WHO IS RICH?--WHO IS POOR?
There, Puss! said little Matty, you may have my dinner if you want it.
I'm tired of bread and milk. I'm tired of this old brown house. I'm tired
of that old barn, with its red eaves. I'm tired of the garden, with its rows
of lilacs, its sun-flowers, and its beds of catnip and penny-royal. I'm
tired of the old well, with its pole balancing in the air. I'm tired of the
meadow, where the cows feed, and the hens are always picking up
grass-hoppers. I wish I was a grass-hopper! I ain't happy. I am tired of
this brown stuff dress, and these thick leather shoes, and my old
sun-bonnet. There comes a nice carriage,--how smooth and shiny the
horses are; how bright the silver-mounted harness glitters; how smart
the coachman looks, in his white gloves. How nice it must be to be rich,
and ride in a carriage; oh! there's a little girl in it, no older than I, and
all alone, too!--a RICH little girl, with a pretty rose-colored bonnet, and
a silk dress, and cream-colored kid gloves. See--she has beautiful
curling hair, and when she puts her pretty face out the carriage window,
and tells the coachman to go here, and to go there, he minds her just as
if she were a grown lady. Why did God make her rich, and me poor?
Why did he let her ride in a carriage, and me go barefoot? Why did he
clothe her like a butterfly, and me like a caterpillar?

* * *
Matty, come here. Climb into my lap,--lay your head upon my
shoulder,--so. Now listen. You are well and strong, Matty?--yes. You
have enough to eat and drink?--yes. You have a kind father and
mother?--yes. You have a crowing little dimpled baby brother?--yes.
You can jump, and leap, and climb fences, and run up trees like a
squirrel?--yes.
Well; the little girl with the rose-colored bonnet, whom you saw riding
in the carriage, is a poor little cripple. You saw her fine dress and pretty
pale face, but you didn't see her little shrunken foot, dangling helplessly
beneath the silken robe. You saw the white gloved coachman, and the
silver-mounted harness, and the soft, velvet cushions, but you didn't see
the tear in their little owner's soft, dark eyes, as she spied you at the
cottage door, rosy and light-footed, free to ramble 'mid the fields and
flowers. You didn't know that her little heart was aching for somebody
to love her. You didn't know that her mamma loved her diamonds, and
silks, and satins better than her own little girl. You didn't know that
when her little crippled limb pained her, and her heart ached, that she
had