MINNIE BROWN; OR, THE GENTLE GIRL.

BY FRANCIS FORRESTER, ESQ. AUTHOR OF "ARTHUR ELLERSLIE," "REDBROOK," ETC.

BOSTON: GEO. C. RAND, 3 CORNHILL. WM. J. REYNOLDS & CO. 1853.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by Daniel Wise, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. PRESS OF G. C. RAND, CORNHILL.

[5]

MINNIE BROWN.

Minnie Brown had not so handsome a face as some little girls; yet people called her a beautiful child. Her beauty was not in her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, her forehead, or her hair. These were all well enough; her face was pretty enough in its way, but it was no prettier than the faces of many other girls whom no one ever thought to be very beautiful. Still, almost all [6]who knew Minnie spoke of her as a beautiful child. Why was this? What was there in Minnie to make people call her beautiful?

[7]

I will tell you. Minnie's mind was beautiful. She had a lovely spirit, a mild temper, and an obliging disposition. Minnie appeared to love every one. She was never angry, unkind, or rebellious. She almost always wore a pleasant smile on her rosy lips; a light of loving tenderness generally shone in her soft blue eyes. She always spoke in a gentle voice. Whoever looked upon her felt pleased at her appearance; and hence it was that she was called a beautiful child.

I do not mean to say that Minnie was faultless. There has never been but one faultless child in the world, and that was the sinless Child of Mary. But Minnie's faults were very few. Her natural disposition was very gentle, and she had learned to pray to Christ as her loving Savior and holy elder Brother. And thus, by studying to oppose all that was bad in her heart, by encouraging all that was good, and by expecting her Brother Savior in heaven to help her, she had become such a child as I have described.

But Minnie had many trials of her patience and goodness, like all other [8]children. These troubles, however, did not set her crying and fretting as some girls do, when vexatious trials annoy them. Her mother had taught her that trials were for her good. Minnie always remembered this lesson, because of the way in which it was taught to her. It was by means of a little tree, which Minnie's father set out in front of their cottage, one spring, with great care. Mr. Brown was a man of taste. He spared no pains to make his residence a pleasant one. He meant this tree to grow into a shade tree; and a beautiful little tree it was. It was tall, slender, smooth, and had very graceful branches. Minnie [9]admired it very much. She hoped it would live and become a great tree.

[10]

At first, it appeared as if it would do so. The buds swelled, the leaves began to show their green edges, and Minnie was looking every day to see them burst into beauty. But the weather grew very cold, wet, and windy. For more than a week, the sun refused to shine. The sky was as dreary, and the air as cold, as rough November. Minnie often looked out of the window at the little tree in the storm; and when it swayed to and fro, she said to her mother,—

"I hope that little tree will live, mother."

"I hope so, too, my child," replied Mrs. Brown.

[11]

But when the fine weather and sunshine returned, the tree gave signs of drooping.

"I think it will die," said Mr. Brown, one day, after examining its appearance.

"I hope not," said Minnie.

But the tree did die, and in a few weeks was fit for nothing but to be cut down and burned.

"What made it die, mother?" inquired Minnie, one day, as she was watching the men who were digging it up.

"It was not vigorous enough to endure the late storm. Your father took it from the middle of the woods because [12]of its beauty. It had always been sheltered from the storm by other trees; and so it died when it was exposed without shelter."

"Would it have lived, if it had been grown on the edge of the woods, mother?"

"Probably it would. Had it always stood in the face of storms, it would have grown up hardier."

"Well, that's funny. I should never have thought of such a thing."

"Perhaps not," replied Mrs. Brown. "There are a vast many things you have yet to learn. In one respect you are like a young tree."

"Why, mother! How can I be like a [13]young tree?" asked Minnie, with an air of surprise.

"Well, you need storms to blow on you while you are young, that you may be able to endure trouble when you are older."

"Storms, mother! What storms?"

"I mean trials, Minnie. When you are ill used by a schoolmate, and are tempted to be revengeful, you are tried as the tree is tried by a storm. If you remain patient and loving under the trial, you are benefited by it, and will be more likely to endure the next trial you meet. Thus all your little storms, or trials, will be for your good."

[14]

"What, always?"

"Yes, Minnie, always, if you act right under them."

"Was it for my good to be pushed into the pond by Ralph Rattler, mother?"

"If it has led you to exercise a spirit of forgiveness towards Ralph, it has done you good."

Minnie paused a moment, as if in deep thought. She was asking herself if she had really forgiven Ralph for pushing her into the pond at the risk of her life. She thought she had. A gush of feeling poured up from her heart. Her eyes filled with tears, and, looking lovingly into her mother's face, she said,—

[15]

"I do think, mother, that I have forgiven Ralph."

"That is right, my dear Minnie. And having done so, you are better prepared to suffer wrong patiently than you were before."

"But, mother," added Minnie, "I don't think I love Ralph quite so well as I do Arthur, who saved my life. Is that right?"

"I suppose you cannot help the preference you feel for Arthur, my child. He is a good boy. Ralph is not. Arthur loves his mother, and is the best boy in the village. Ralph is disobedient, proud, and unlovely. But while you thus pre[16]fer Arthur because of his better qualities, you must feel nothing but kindness and pity for wicked Ralph, and a desire to benefit him."

"That is just as I do feel, mother. But what's that?"

"I think I heard the door bell ring. Run and see, Minnie."

Minnie stepped quickly to the door. A little girl, named Lillia, stood on the threshold.

"How do you do, Lillia!" said Minnie.

"I am very well, Minnie. I want you to come down to my house and play a while. Mother's gone out, and I am all alone."

[17]

"I'll ask my mother," replied Minnie. "Wait a moment."

Minnie returned to the parlor, and said to her mother, "Lillia Leet is at the door. She wants me to play with her at her house a little while, because her mother is out. May I go, mother?"

"Do you wish to go, Minnie?"

"I am not very particular, mother. Only Lillia is alone, and perhaps she will feel bad if I refuse."

"You may go, then. Only be sure and return to tea."

"Yes, mother, I'll be at home by tea time."

Now, Minnie had been taught to be [18]neat and careful. So she did not leave her things in disorder because she was going out, or because Lillia was waiting for her. But she took the book she had been reading, and placed it carefully away in the bookcase. Then she put her needlework into the work basket, and carried it into the closet. After which, she took down her bonnet and shawl, and joined her playmate at the door.

Lillia had grown impatient at this little delay. She was not a very amiable girl, and did not try to control herself.

"Come, Minnie," said she, a little [19]pettishly; "I thought you would be all day getting ready."

"O," replied Minnie, gently, "I had to put my book and work away."

"Well, come, let us make haste, now. I've got a new swing at my house."

"A new swing! Where is it fixed, Lillia?" said Minnie.

"Out in the garden, under the arbor."

"O, that is a beautiful place, it will be so nicely shaded by the grape vine."

The two girls soon arrived at the summer house. Lillia took hold of the swing, and showing the large new rope to Minnie, said,—

[20]

"Don't you think this is nice, Minnie? See how strong it is. There is no fear of its breaking down, as your old thing did last summer."

"Yes, it is a beautiful swing, indeed, Lillia. You will have a nice time with it; and—"

"Swing me," said Lillia, interrupting Minnie. She had placed herself in the seat of the swing, and was pushing herself to and fro.

Minnie obeyed her wish, and pushed the swing with right good will, until Lillia was able to touch the top of the arbor with the tips of her toes. Then she cried out,—

[21]

"Push away, Minnie! It swings nicely, don't it?"

"Yes, it's a capital swing," replied Minnie, who was almost out of breath through her labor in swinging her companion.

But Lillia kept swinging on, laughing and chatting in great glee, without once offering to give Minnie a chance to enjoy it; but whenever she failed to swing her briskly, cried out,—

"Push away, Minnie! It is capital fun!"

Minnie bore this selfish treatment a long time. But finding herself very tired, and seeing that Lillia showed no [22]disposition to relieve her, she stopped, and began to tie on her bonnet, and to place her shawl on her shoulders.

"Where are you going, Minnie?" asked Lillia.

"I am going home," replied Minnie.

"Well, that's real hateful in you," answered the selfish Lillia. She did not seem to see that the ugliness was in her own conduct, and not in Minnie's. She had really abused her gentle companion, who had borne her selfish conduct without a word of complaint. But Minnie now thought it was time to bear this treatment no longer. So the only reply she made to Lillia's reproachful speech was to say,—

[23]

"Good by, Lillia."

And she tripped along the garden, out at the gate, and up the street, saying to herself, "I must love Lillia, if she is selfish. I hope I shall never treat others as she has treated me."

Not long after this little incident, Minnie's father was seen with a ladder, busily employed among the branches of a grand old oak tree, which stood on the greensward in the rear of his house. While thus employed, Minnie came home from school. Seeing her father in the tree, she ran into the yard, and asked,—

"Pa, please tell me what you are doing."

[24]

"What do you think I am doing, Minnie?"

"I don't know, pa; but this coil of rope makes me think you are fixing me a swing."

"Well, suppose I am; what then?"

"O, then I shall be very happy, for I want a swing very much."

"Well, that is what I am doing, Minnie. In half an hour you will have as good a swing as you can desire."

"Thank you, dear pa. I shall love you better than ever, and I shall be so happy to have a swing."

And then Minnie jumped round upon the grass, and hummed a pretty little [25]song. She was so pleased she hardly knew how to express her joy. So she carolled it forth like the birds, in a sweet and simple song. After some minutes spent in singing and watching her father, she said,—

"Pa!"

"What do you want, Minnie?"

"May I go and invite Fanny, and Rhoda, and Jeannie to try my new swing when it is done?"

"Certainly, my child. Run and get them. The swing will soon be ready."

Minnie ran off in search of her playmates. She did not invite Lillia. Not because she bore any ill will towards [26]her, but because she knew her presence would only prevent the other girls from being happy. Selfish Lillia would want to swing all the time. In a short time she returned with her three friends. The swing was ready; and Minnie said,—

"Fanny shall swing first, because she is the youngest. Then Jeannie shall have a turn, and then Rhoda."

"But when will you swing yourself, Minnie?" inquired one of the girls.

"O, never, mind me; I can swing any time, you know."

Then the girls began to swing, and Minnie was never happier than while [27]she was thus busied in affording her schoolmates pleasure.

This was a secret she had learned from her mother. And it is a very precious secret, which very few persons understand. Lillia did not understand it; for she always looked after her own [28]pleasure alone. Yet there was not a more unhappy child in that village than Lillia. But Minnie had found out that to make others happy was to be happy herself. You may feel sure, therefore, that this first trial of her swing was much more delightful to her than Lillia's was to her. Her three friends were highly gratified, and when they had all had a good swing, they exclaimed,—

"Now, Minnie, you must get in, and we will swing you."

Then Minnie jumped into the seat of the swing. Fanny and Jeannie stood in front of her, to push the swing back-wards, and Rhoda stood behind on the [29]opposite side, to push her forwards. A right merry time she had, until it was necessary for them to part.

"You will come again soon, girls, won't you?" said she to her happy little friends.

"Yes, good Minnie, we will. You are so kind, you may be sure we will come again."

Then they all kissed her, and wished her good evening.

"Good evening, girls," she replied; and then she sprang, agile as a fawn and fresh as a fairy, into the house.

Minnie was not one of those children who have two sides to their character. [30]Some boys and girls are like the statue of a noble personage, which was brass on one side and iron on the other. When from home, they appear mild, gentle, obliging; but when with their parents, they are fretful, peevish, and disobedient. Minnie was the same gentle, obedient little being at home as she was abroad. But even there she had her little trials.

She was very fond of reading. No little girl read a good story with a greater relish than Minnie. And, like all other children, she did not love to be disturbed in the midst of an interesting book. But she had found that this [31]disposition needed to be brought under control, or it would lead her astray.

A pretty story is easier to read than a dry lesson. Many little girls neglect the lesson for the story, because the latter is the easiest. Minnie often felt tempted to do this. One evening, just as she sat down to get her lessons for the next day, her father brought in her favorite magazine. She was greatly interested in certain parts of it, and had been looking for it anxiously several days. When her father laid it on the table, he said,—

"Here is a new number of your magazine, Minnie."

[32]

"O, I am so glad, pa! Do let me see it!"

Mr. Brown gave it to her. She carefully cut its leaves, and was soon busy in looking at its pictures, stories, and puzzles. Her lessons were entirely put out of mind, and the poor spelling book and geography looked quite forsaken, as they lay pushed aside on the table.

Her good mother silently watched Minnie. She knew it was too late for her to read the magazine, and to get her lessons besides. She also knew that Minnie ought to get the lessons. Yet she felt loath to try her, by bidding [33]her lay the magazine aside. Hence she waited to see what Minnie would do.

Minnie had got fairly and fully interested in the charming little magazine. A half hour had passed since her father gave it to her, and still she was poring over its pages. It was plain that she had forgotten the lessons entirely.

"Minnie!" said her mother.

"Yes, ma!" replied the little girl, without taking her eyes from the book.

"Minnie, my child! Are your lessons learned?"

"No, mamma!"

"Had you not better study them, Minnie, and leave the magazine until to-morrow?"

[34]

"Can't I finish this story first, mother?" asked she, while a slight cloud of impatience gathered on her brow.

"Does my Minnie think it right to neglect her lesson for the magazine?" asked her mother, gravely.

"No, mother, it is not," replied the child, roused by this appeal to her sense of right.

"Then what will you do, Minnie?"

"Study my lesson, mother," said she, firmly, as she resolutely closed the magazine, and handed it to her mother, adding, "Please, mother, keep it until to-morrow. It is so interesting, I am afraid I shall read it if I keep it myself."

[35]

This was a noble act in a little girl. It was an act of self-conquest which very few children would have done so readily. I like her plan of giving the magazine to her mother. It was putting a means of temptation out of the way. It was easier for her to study the lessons with the magazine out of sight, than it would have been to keep it lying on the table. Thus did Minnie triumph over an indoor trial.

On another occasion, Minnie was very busy over her lessons, and she was very anxious to get them well. She had just begun a new study. It was difficult at first, and required all the attention [36]she could give to it. But Minnie was not one of those children who say, "I can't," to every hard lesson. She always said to every duty, "I'll try;" and she was trying with all her might, when her mother called to her, and said,—

"Minnie!"

"Yes, mother!"

"I want you, my child."

Now, some children whom I have seen, when thus disturbed, have looked very cross. Their eyes have flashed with angry fires, and they have been wont to use pert words, such as, "Can't you let me get my lesson?" "What do you want?" "I should think you [37]would like to have me study;" and similar wicked phrases.

But Minnie did not belong to this class of girls. It was not often her mother called her off from her studies. She was a sensible woman; she knew that a parent should not make needless trials for a child. But at this time she was doing something she could not very well leave. Hence she had called Minnie.

Minnie did not like to be called away from her lessons, and was for a moment inclined to feel angry. But a glance at her mother checked the wrong feeling, and she stepped up to her mother's side, who said to her,—

[38]

"Minnie, go into the bed room and see if baby is asleep. Take your cousin with you. He wants to look at the baby."

Minnie felt a little pang at her heart for the angry feeling which had tried to rise up against her mother. So she kissed her, and without saying a word took her cousin by the hand, and went into the bed room to look at her baby brother. Carefully stepping up to his little cot, she gazed upon his plump, happy face. His eyes were closed, and his lips moved, as if in his dreams he was talking with the angel watchers who guard an infant's bed. So Minnie [39]knew he was asleep, and returned with her report to her mother; after which she resumed her studies, feeling very glad because she had gained another victory over a little trial of patience and temper.

[40]

But Minnie's trials were not all over. Children have their troubles all through childhood. Indeed, trouble is like an evil genius, who visits all parts of the world, peeps in at every house, sits at every table, and meddles with every body. You need not wonder, therefore, that Minnie, good and gentle though she was, had frequent trials.

This new trial was caused by Lillia. Fanny, Rhoda, and Jeannie had told that selfish girl about Minnie's swing, and the fine time they had enjoyed with her. Lillia was vexed because she was not invited too. She could not bear a slight. Her selfish heart always [41]felt galled at the least neglect from others. So, when Fanny and the other girls told her of Minnie's swing, she said,—

"How did you know that Minnie had a new swing?"

"Why, Minnie told us, to be sure, and invited us to a kind of swing party."

"Invited you, did she?"

"Yes, she came to our house, and asked us to go with her."

"The hateful creature! Why didn't she invite me? It was only the other day I took her into my father's arbor, and let her swing all the afternoon."

This was a wicked lie. A selfish [42]child, like Lillia, never regards the truth. She seeks only to gratify her evil passions, as Lillia did by this falsehood.

But the girls looked at her as if they doubted her word. It seemed so unlike Minnie to be ungrateful or neglectful of any one, they hardly knew what to make of it. At length Fanny remarked,—

"I never saw any thing hateful in Minnie."

"And I think Minnie is a very lovely girl," added Rhoda.

"So do I," exclaimed Jeannie. "And if she didn't ask you to her house after [43]swinging in your arbor, it was for some good reason, I know, Miss Lillia."