Little Ferns For Fannys Little Friends | Page 9

and the silver streams threading the green
meadows,--to be shut in from the fresh breeze, that would bring you
life and health,--to pine and waste away, and think to die, without one

dear hand to press yours lovingly--oh, Harry!
One of the sick prisoners had a little squirrel. The squirrel was a
prisoner, too. He was in a cage--but then sometimes he was let out; and
to please me, the door was opened for him. Didn't he jump? poor
squirrel! He had no soul--so he wasn't as miserable as his sick keeper;
but I'm mistaken if he wouldn't have liked a nut to crack, of his own
finding in some leafy wood, where the green moss lies thickly
cushioned, and the old trees serve him for ladders!
On a bench in the Hospital was seated a poor, sick black-boy.
"Pompey's" mother was a very foolish mother. She had always let him
have his own way. If he cried for anything he always got it, and when
he was angry and struck people, she never punished him for it; so
Pompey grew up a very bad boy, because his mother never taught him
to govern his temper. So one day he got very angry, and did something
that sent him to the State Prison, where I saw him. And he grew sick
staying so long in doors, and now he was in a consumption--all wasted
away--with such hollow cheeks, that it made the tears come to my eyes
to look at him. Oh how glad I was when the keeper told me that next
Sunday his time would be up, so that he could go out if he liked. The
keeper said, "He had better stay there, because they could take good
care of him, and he had no friends." I guess the keeper didn't think that
poor Pompey had rather crawl on his hands and knees out to the green
fields, and die alone, with the sweet, fresh air fanning his poor temples,
than to stay with all the doctors in the world in that tomb of a prison.
Harry! I wanted so much to go and shake hands with Pompey, and tell
him how happy it made me to know that he was going to get out next
Sunday, and that I hoped the sun would shine just as bright as ever it
could, and all the flowers blossom out on purpose for him to see; and
then I hoped that when his heart was so full of gladness he would feel
like praying; and then I hoped no cruel, hard-hearted person would
point at him and say, "That is a State Prison boy," and so make his
heart all hard and wicked again, just as he was trying to be good.
* * *

And now, Harry, shake hands with me, and "make up." You know if
poor Pompey hadn't got so angry, he wouldn't have been in prison; and
as for Aunt Fanny, she must learn to be as polite as a French woman,
and never laugh again when you burn your mouth with a "hasty plate of
soup."

"LITTLE BENNY."
So the simple head-stone said. Why did my eyes fill? I never saw the
little creature. I never looked in his laughing eye, or heard his merry
shout, or listened for his tripping tread; I never pillowed his little head,
or bore his little form, or smoothed his silky locks, or laved his dimpled
limbs, or fed his cherry lips with dainty bits, or kissed his rosy cheek as
he lay sleeping.
I did not see his eye grow dim; or his little hand droop powerless; or
the dew of agony gather on his pale forehead; I stood not with clasped
hands and suspended breath, and watched the look that comes but once,
flit over his cherub face. And yet, "little Benny," my tears are falling;
for, somewhere, I know there's an empty crib, a vacant chair, useless
robes and toys, a desolate hearth-stone, and a weeping mother.
"Little Benny!"
It was all her full heart could utter; and it was enough. It tells the whole
story.

A RAP ON SOMEBODY'S KNUCKLES.
It is very strange my teacher never says a kind word to me. I am quite
sure I say my lessons well. I haven't had an "error" since I came to
school six months ago. I haven't been "delinquent" or "tardy." I have
never broken a rule. Now there's Harry Gray, that fat boy yonder, with
the dull eyes and frilled shirt-collar, who never can say his lesson
without some fellow prompts him. He comes in half an hour after

school begins, and goes home an hour before it is done, and eats
pea-nuts all the time he stays; he has all the medals, and