NANNY MERRY.

NANNY MERRY;

OR,

WHAT MADE THE DIFFERENCE?

LONDON:

T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;

EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.

1872.

CHAPTER I.

IN WHICH NANNIE IS INTRODUCED.

But grannie doesn't always have to feel her Bible. Sometimes—very often—a little girl comes down the path to the brown house, and sitting down close by grannie, on that cricket that you see there now, takes the good book and reads the blessed words to her, till the tears trickle down grannie's wrinkled face, and laying her trembling hand on the little girl's head, she says, "God bless thee, my child."

I think she is expecting her now; for, see the cricket is all ready, and on the little table is a pitcher of cool water from the old well that you see just behind the house; and here is the little girl herself.

"Good-morning, grannie; are you waiting for me? I couldn't come any sooner, because mamma wanted me to play with Charlie; and here are some peaches mamma sent you,—she thought you would like them;" and Nannie, quite out of breath with her walk and her talk, stops a minute, which gives Grannie Burt a chance to answer her questions and to thank her for her peaches. "Now shall I read, grannie?" said Nannie, as, taking a long draught from the little pitcher, she sat down on the cricket.

"Eat this peach first," said grannie, picking out the softest and handing it to her; "I know you must be warm from your long walk, and this will cool you."

The peach looked so tempting that Nannie looked at it wishfully. Her mother had only given her one, and she had sent grannie a whole basketful. It was only for a moment that Nannie let these selfish thoughts trouble her. "Grannie never has any of her own, and in a few weeks I can have as many as I want," she thought; so taking up the Bible she said, "No, grannie, thank you; the water has cooled me enough; where shall I begin?"

"Read about heaven, Nannie; you know I like to hear about that best."

Softly the little voice began: "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth." Then she read of the tree of life, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations; and of the water of life, that flows near the jasper throne.

When she had finished, she said, "What makes you like to hear of heaven so much, grannie?"

"Oh, I'm going there, Nannie! When you read about the beautiful things, the pearly gates, and the golden streets, I think, 'I shall see them, for there will be no night there; not even in these poor old eyes of mine.' And when you read, 'the Lamb is the light thereof,' then I think Jesus will be there, and that's what I like best of all."

"Where is heaven, grannie?"

"Up there, I suppose," she said, pointing to the bright sky above.

"But, grannie, there was a gentleman at our house yesterday, and I heard him talking with my father, and he said he thought heaven was in the sun. So I thought I would ask you, because you always know so much about it. Do you think it is in the sun?"

"I don't think anything about it. I don't think it makes much difference where it is, if we only get there at last."

"Sister Mary said she thought heaven would be where God was."

"So I think, child; and I don't think it's the pearls, and gold, and all those things you read about, that make it either; for I think any place would be heaven, if we found Jesus there. This old room has been pretty near it, sometimes."

Nannie turned to the 14th chapter of John, which she knew grannie loved to hear, and commenced reading.

While she is reading, let us go down the street to the lane—bordered with trees—walk up the narrow footpath, and over the stile just by the blackberry-bushes, across the field to the little marigolds, to the white cottage where Nannie lives. You can come to it by the street, if you choose, and you may come in under the great elm-tree, by the gate; but then the street is so dusty, and you miss seeing the little garden with its bright flowers; and the blossoms in the lane smell so sweetly, that it is quite worth while going that way. But here we are, before the door, on which we read, in bright letters, "Dr. Merry;" for Nannie's name is Nannie Merry, and Nannie's father is a doctor. He is doctor in a pleasant little town that is situated on the banks of a narrow river. I don't think you could find either the town or the river on your maps, if you should try; so there would be no use in telling you their names. It was a pleasant town, however, with its large elm-trees, and pretty white cottages, with here and there a large house, where the grandest people lived.

But Nannie's father was only a country doctor, and didn't live in a very large house. You can see for yourself that it is only a white cottage, with green blinds, and a long porch in front, covered with sweetbriar and honeysuckle. But the people that live in the house are quite as pleasant as the house itself, or even as the people that live in the large brick house. After Dr. Merry comes Mrs. Merry, or Nannie's mother, who is, like most mothers, very kind and good; then sister Mary, who is grown up, and Nannie thinks the best sister ever was; then Belle, who is very pretty, and about twelve years old; John and Charlie, who are, like most boys, great teasers, and Nannie sometimes thinks a good deal worse than most boys—but then, Charlie is only four years old, so there is some excuse for him. Lastly, we have Nannie herself, who is—well, we shall find out what she is before our story is finished. She is nine years old, "nearly ten," and would feel offended if we left that out. But here she comes from Grannie Burt's, so we must stop talking about her. She

is coming by the lane just as we did, running at first, then a little slower, till at last she stops, for her sister Mary is weeding one of the pretty borders in the little garden.

"O Mary! grannie thinks just as you do about heaven; I don't think Mr. Brown knows so much about it as she does."

"Why not, Nannie?"

"Oh, because grannie is almost there, Mary,—she ought to know!"

"What makes you think grannie is almost there?"

"Why, she said so; and then she loves to hear about heaven, just as I did about home when I was at Aunt Sarah's."

"Do you like to hear about heaven, Nannie?"

"Sometimes," she answered, while with her little shoe she played with the pebbles.

"Not always! Nannie; when don't you like to hear about it?"

Nannie played with the pebbles a good while. At last she said, "I like to hear some things about it always, but not everything."

"And what do you like to hear about it always?"

"I like to hear about golden streets, and the beautiful water, and the trees, and the harps of the angels, and their golden crowns."

"And what don't you like to hear about?"

The little foot moved backwards and forwards a good while, and when Nannie did speak, she spoke almost as if she were afraid to do so.

"I don't like to hear about its always being Sunday there."

"Why, Nannie, don't you like Sunday here?"

"Why, yes, always once a week; but that's not like always. I don't think I should like to go to church every day, and learn the Catechism, and have a cold dinner, and not play at all."

"Maybe I can help you a little, Nannie. Do you ever get tired of loving father?"

"Why, no; I should never get tired of that, I'm sure he never gets tired of loving me."

"Do you get tired of showing you love him by trying to please him?"

"No, Mary; but—"

"Never mind the 'buts' till I have done. Now, God is 'Our Father,' and all we have to do in heaven is to love him, and to show how very much we love him by trying to do all we can to please him. Do you think you'll get tired of that?"

"No. But that isn't like Sunday."

"What do we do on Sunday, Nannie?"

"Why, go to church and—"

"Yes; but what do we go to church for?"

"Oh, I see now!" said Nannie, her face brightening up,—"oh, I see! We worship God on Sunday, and that's what we'll do always in heaven; isn't it, Mary?"

"Yes, that's why we say it's always Sunday there; and we shall love God so much better there than we do now, that we can only be happy in praising him. Even now, when we think how good he is to us, and how he loves us, it seems as if we must praise him; but then we shall see him always, and never forget what he has done for us. Do you think we can help praising him, or that it will be hard work to join with the angels in singing, 'Holy, holy, Lord God Almighty'—'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain'? Do you think you understand now, Nannie, and will like to hear about heaven as much as Grannie Burt does?"

"Oh yes! I felt very sorry, because I knew I ought to love to think about heaven! And so I think I do. But Belle said they did nothing but sing hymns there, and she didn't see what there was so very pleasant in that."

"Belle ought not to talk so. But what did you say to her?"

"I said," Nannie answered, holding down her head, "I thought the reason she didn't like it was because she was not good; because all good people liked to hear about heaven."

"That's the reason, I think," said sister Mary, as she gathered up her weeds for Nannie to take away. Nannie carried them off, thinking all the time, "Oh dear, I wish I were as good as sister Mary!" If wishes would make any one good, Nannie would have been very good long before this time. "At anyrate," said Nannie, as she emptied the weeds into the ash-heap, "I will try. Father says there are weeds in our hearts, and we can pull them up. I mean to try."

We shall see in the next chapter how Nannie succeeds in pulling up the weeds.

CHAPTER II.

"IF THY BROTHER SIN AGAINST THEE, FORGIVE HIM."

"Here's a nice place," said Jack, stopping under the old elm-tree by the gate. "He'll do for a sentinel here, and we'll arm him with a gun."

"Or a porter," said Belle; "and we'll give him a key."

"Here, Nannie, come this way," he said, as he saw Nannie and Charlie walking off in the other direction.

"Charlie and I are going to make one by ourselves," said Nannie.

"You can't do it," said Jack; "you don't know how."

"We know how as well as you," said Charlie indignantly.

"Well, we'll beat you then. Come, hurry, Belle."

So they set to work, rolling their balls, sometimes running across each other's track, when Master Charlie must always leave his work to throw a ball at Jack. Jack, however, was too busy to return them.

"Don't, Charlie, keep stopping so," said Nannie; "we shall not get it done."

"I want to snowball Jack," said Charlie.

"But we want to finish the snow-man first."

Then Charlie would stick to his work a few minutes; but whenever Jack came in sight, rolling his now huge ball, Charlie couldn't resist the temptation, and would fill his hands full of snow, and let fly at Jack. He yielded to the temptation the more easily, as he found Jack was too busy to pay him back.

Belle and Jack now could move their ball no longer, and so they proceeded to make a smaller one for the head, and to shape out the arms. Jack made the hat to crown him, while Belle shaped his coat and marked out the buttons. Soon Charlie, who was more interested in theirs than his own, cried out, "Oh, he's putting his hat on!"

Belle and Jack gave three cheers, and introduced Nannie and Charlie to Mr. James Snow.

Mr. James Snow was a very remarkable-looking old man, with a long white beard, who looked as if he had much better been leaning on a staff, than raising the gun with which Jack had armed him.

"You had better come with us," said Belle; "you can't make one by yourselves."

"Yes, we can," said Nannie. "Can't we, Charlie?"

"Yes, we can," said Charlie. "Nicer than that one too."

"And we'll call ours Jack Frost," said Nannie, as they hurried off to their work.

But Charlie was more trouble than help, and Nannie began to grow tired. Belle and Jack stood by, looking on and teasing her. Charlie stopped working, and began to defend their workmanship with snowballs, which Jack and Belle were not slow to return. At last, just as Nannie had fashioned a most uncomfortable-looking nose, and had succeeded with great difficulty in inducing it to stay in its right place, Jack's mischievous nature overcame him, and seizing a lump of snow, he threw it straight at the unfortunate nose. This was more than Nannie could bear.

"You naughty, ill-natured boy," she said; "I'll never speak to you again."

"O Nannie, I'm really sorry. I was only in fun;" for Jack, like most boys, thought "only in fun" excuse enough for anything. "Come back, and I'll help you to make it."

Nannie paid no attention to him, but walked off in a very dignified manner. Jack whistled a tune, and walked off in no very pleasant humour, while Belle and Charlie went into the house. Their pleasure was all gone for want of "the soft answer which turneth away wrath."

Nannie came in and sat down by the fire and began to read. She was very much interested in the book she was reading; but, somehow, to-day she did not like it as well as usual. She turned over the leaves, and read a little here and there; but it didn't please her. She got up from her chair, went to the window, and began drumming on the window-pane.

"Be still, Nannie," said her father, who was sitting in the room, reading. She sat down again, and sat looking into the fire.

"I don't care," she thought; "Jack had no business to do it. I think he was very unkind, and I'll do the same to him another time. Yes, I will," she said to herself more determinedly, because there was something within which said, "If thy brother sin against thee, forgive him." Nannie wouldn't listen, but kept cherishing the angry thoughts.

"He may be thankful it wasn't Belle instead of me, for she would have told father of him in a minute. Jack is always teasing me. He spoiled all my card-houses yesterday. Forgiving him then didn't do him any good."

The little voice within whispered, "Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith, Until seventy times seven."

Nannie heard it again, but still wouldn't listen, and went on,—"And the other day he tore my prettiest paper doll, just for fun. I'd like to know how he'd like to have me tear his things 'just for fun.'

"And the other day he hurt poor pussy's ears."

The little voice whispered,—"And the other day, when you were sick, he stayed away from the nutting party, and showed you pictures, and read to you;" and as fast as Nannie told of an unkind act, the little voice whispered of a kind one. But Nannie could not listen to-day to the friendly voice which had so often helped her out of her troubles.

After supper Jack said again, "Come, Nannie, let us be friends, won't you?"

Nannie had let the angry thoughts have dominion so long, that although she felt almost inclined to make it up with Jack, pride conquered, and she turned away without a word.

Poor Jack! he really loved his little sister very much, and had felt very sorry about the quarrel. It had cost a good deal of effort to go so far towards making it up, even though he knew he was to blame. But now, instead of being sorry, he was only angry, and turned away, saying, "Well, I can stand it as long as you can."

That night, as Nannie lay awake, the little voice that Nannie had neglected so long kept whispering, "Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath." She tried to think of something else, but it kept whispering, whispering.

"I don't see," she said, "why I need trouble myself so about it. Belle wouldn't mind it a bit."

When morning came, she felt better, and determined to think no more about it. But at prayers Dr. Merry read the sixth chapter of Matthew: "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive your trespasses."

As her father read these verses, the little voice whispered once more, "Listen, listen;" and this time Nannie did listen; and when they all joined in the Lord's Prayer, it was with a trembling voice she said, "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those that trespass against us."

That morning, as Jack started for school, Nannie ran after him, and overtook him just as he stepped into the wood-shed to find his knife, which as usual was missing.

"Jack," she said, going close up to him, "I'm sorry I called you naughty and ill-natured."

Jack was in a great hurry, and already out of patience from the loss of his knife; besides, he had not forgotten how Nannie had met his effort for peace the evening before; so he pushed by her, saying, "Well, don't bother me now; you're in my light." She moved aside a little, so that the light from the door could come in, then spying his knife under the work-bench, she picked it up and gave it to him. He took it from her, and ran off without any thanks.

The tears came into Nannie's eyes. "He's too unkind, I think," she said; "he might at least have thanked me for finding his knife. Next time I'll leave it alone, and he may find it the best way he can."

Nannie's little friend inside whispered again, "Forgive till seventy times seven." Nannie listened now, and in her heart she prayed again, "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those that sin against us."

That afternoon, as Nannie was sitting reading, Jack put his head in at the door, and said, "Nannie, there's a gentleman in the front yard wants to see you."

Nannie was so busy reading, that she did not notice the strangeness of the message. She put away her book and went out. As she went into the yard, what should she see there but her snow-man, all complete! She turned round to thank Jack, but he was nowhere in sight. Nannie went up closer to examine the snow-statue, and found a piece of paper on it, with Mr. Jack Frost written on it in large letters. Under the name was written with a pencil:—

"Mr. Jack Frost requests of Miss Nannie Merry that she will excuse his friend Mr. John Merry for his rudeness this morning, as Mr. Frost assures her that he will behave better next time."

Nannie laughed as she took off the paper, and running into the house, she soon found Jack standing by the kitchen-fire. Coming up behind him, without his seeing her, she put her arms round his neck, and kissed him several times before he could speak. Then laughing, she said,—

"Miss Nannie Merry will excuse Mr. John Merry this time."

Somehow that evening Nannie and Jack were greater friends than ever; and as they sat together looking at the pictures in some large books that Nannie couldn't lift alone, Nannie was not sorry she had listened to the little voice that had troubled her only to make her do right.

CHAPTER III.

CHRISTMAS."

Nannie didn't think all this, but something very much like it was in her heart, as she stood looking out from the window, as sister Mary set the last smoking dish on the table.

That morning Dr. Merry read the 116th Psalm, beginning, "I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice." Nannie listened very attentively, but there was one verse she didn't quite understand. It was this: "I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving." She hadn't time after prayers to ask her father or sister Mary about it, but all the time she kept thinking of it and trying to understand it. She didn't know that every time she had looked out upon the snow, and felt thankful to God for the bright fire within that kept her warm, she had offered the sacrifice of thanksgiving. She didn't know that when she thought of Jesus, and her little heart seemed so full of love to him, because he had died for her, she had offered indeed an acceptable sacrifice of thanksgiving. She didn't know it; but Jesus knew it, and accepted the sacrifice, with the same love as when royal David sang the words to his golden harp.

"Nannie," called sister Mary, "Jack is waiting for you."

"In a minute," said Nannie, as she pulled on her warm mittens.

"It had better be a minute," Jack cried, "if you're going with me, for I haven't much time to spare before dinner."

Nannie, laughing, took up the little basket her mother had packed so nicely for Grannie Burt, and off they started, Jack drawing the large basket on his little hand-barrow.

"Where shall we go first, Jack?"