Sunshine Factory | Page 5

would get through that big gate that was locked up so tight; but
when they came to it, open it swung--there didn't anybody touch it at
all--then they went through and went down the street, 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 was
Mary, and she had a prayer-meeting at her house; ever so many people
came to prayer-meeting, and they prayed to Jesus to take care of Peter
and 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 had to
knock at the gate when they went to see Mary), and a girl named Rhoda
went to see who was there; and instead of letting him in, she ran back
and said: 'Oh, don't you think, Peter is at the gate.' Then the folks said:
'Why, no, he isn't; Peter is in prison, and the door is locked, and the
soldiers have the keys. You are mistaken.' But she said: 'No, I ain't
mistaken; I know it is Peter.' So they 'sputes about it and Peter kept
knocking, knocking, and pretty soon some of them said: 'Come, let's go

see who is knocking, that Rhoda thinks is Peter;' so they went to the
gate and there they saw him, and they knew him and they were so glad
to see him; they opened the gate and let him in, and they all wanted to
talk to him at once, but he beckoned to them to keep still, and then he
told them how Jesus came down out of heaven and woke him up, and
got him out of prison. Isn't that a nice story, mamma?"
"A splendid story, darling; and every word of it is true. That was your
own Jesus that you pray to, who took care of Peter and helped him out
of prison."
"I know it am, mamma; I know all about him. Now, shall I tell you
another 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 last
one, concludes that it is time to give the boy his morning bath, and kiss
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 fiery sun
rose and blazed away with all his might on the dusty pavements and
heated houses. All the people too who could were leaving the city.
But the poor were obliged to stay, no matter how the sun beat down
into their narrow streets and small stifling rooms. There had been no
rain for a long time; many people were sick and dying, and the world
looked very dark to some of them. Mrs. Holmes lived high up in the
topmost rooms of a tall block of buildings. Her rooms were small and
hot, for the sun shone into her windows and upon the roof all the long
day. She was a seamstress and a widow with one little daughter, Nettie.
Mrs. Holmes was very sad and troubled, for Nettie had not been well
all the spring, and now she seemed like a little wilted flower; no
strength, nor appetite, though mamma denied herself everything that
she could to get nice little things to tempt her darling. The doctor had
said she must have change of air, must go into the country. He might
just as well have said she must go to Europe, for Mrs. Holmes had no
dear old home in the country waiting to welcome her; no uncles, aunts
and cousins, writing "When will you come?" So she sat through the
long afternoon and tried to sew as