Little Sunshine's holiday, a picture from life

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LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY

Works of

Miss Mulock

Little Sunshine's Holiday
The Little Lame Prince
Adventures of a Brownie
His Little Mother
Jolin Halifax, Gentleman

L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY

(Incorporated)

200 Summer St., Boston, Mass.

i He Gerrr>ar-» picVu.re:S

(See page 139.)

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S
HOLIDAY

A PICTURE FROM LIFE

BY

MISS MULOCK

CllusttateU bg
ETHELDRED B. BARRY

BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS
1900

Copyright, igoo
By L. C. Page and Company

(incorporated)

All rights reserved

Colonial }9rcss

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.

Boston, Mass., U. S. A..

DEDICATED TO

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

The German Pictures . . . Frontispiece
Sunshine says Good-bye to the Gardener

AND His Wife 15

Sunshine and Franky ..... 40
Nelly and Sunny on the Steps ... 59
" Her little bare feet pattering along

THE floor " 75

Four Little Highland Girls , , . ^^
Little Sunshine Goes Fishing . . .101
"Engaged in single combat" . . .118
Two Little Churchgoers .... 163
Climbing the "Mountain" . . . .187
Tailpiece 207

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY,

CHAPTER I.

While writing this title, I paused, considering
whether the little girl to whom it refers would not
say of it, as she sometimes does of other things,
"You make a mistake." For she is such a very
accurate little person. She cannot bear the slight-
est alteration of a fact. In herself and in other
people she must have the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. For instance, one day,
overhearing her mamma say, " I had my shawl
with me," she whispered, " No, mamma, not your
shawl ; it was your waterproof."

Therefore, I am sure she would wish me to
explain at once that " Little Sunshine " is not her
real name, but a pet name, given because she is
such a sunshiny child; and that her "holiday"
was not so much hers — seeing she was then not
three years old, and every day was a holiday — as

II

12 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

her papa's and mamma's, who are very busy
people, and who took her with them on one of
their rare absences from home. They felt they
could not do without her merry laugh, her little
pattering feet, and her pretty curls, — even for
a month. And so she got a " holiday " too,
though it was quite unearned : as she has never
been to school, and her education has gone no
farther than a crooked .S", a round O, an M for
mamma, and a D for — but this is telling.

Of course Little Sunshine has a Christian name
and surname, like other little girls, but I do not
choose to give them. She has neither brother nor
sister, and says "she doesn't want any, — she had
rather play with papa and mamma." She is not
exactly a pretty child, but she has very pretty
yellow curls, and is rather proud of " my curls."
She has only lately begun to say " I " and " my,"
generally speaking of herself, baby-fashion, in the
third person, — as " Sunny likes that," " Sunny did
so-and-so," etc. She always tells everything she
has done, and everything she is going to do. If
she has come to any trouble — broken a teacup,
fbr Instance — and her mamma says, " Oh, I am
so sorry ! Who did that ? " Little Sunshine will
creep up, hanging her head and blushing, " Sunny
did it ; she won't ever do it again." But the idea
of denying it would never come into her little

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 3

head. Everybody has always told the exact truth
to her, and so she tells the truth to everybody,
and has no notion of there being such a thing as
falsehood in the world.

Still, this little girl is not a perfect character.
She sometimes flies into a passion, and says, " I
won't," in a very silly way, — it is always so silly
to be naughty. And sometimes she feels thor-
oughly naughty, — as we all do occasionally, — and
then she says, of her own accord, " Mamma, Sunny
had better go into the cupboard " (her mamma's
dressing-closet). There she stays, with the door
close shut, for a little while ; and then comes out
again smiling, " Sunny is quite good now." She
kisses mamma, and is all right. This is the only
punishment she has ever had — or needed, for she
never sulks, or does anything underhand or mean
or mischievous ; and her wildest storm of passion
only lasts a few minutes. To see mamma look-
ing sad and grave, or hear her say, " I am so sorry
that my little girl is naughty," will make the child
good again immediately.

So you have a faint idea of the little person who
was to be taken on this long holiday ; first in a
" pufF-pufF," then in a boat, — which was to her
a most remarkable thing, as she lives in a riverless
county, and, except once crossing the Thames,
had scarcely ever beheld water. Her mamma had

14 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

told her, however, of all the wonderful things she
was to see on her holiday, and for a week or two
past she had been saying to every visitor that came
to the house, " Sunny is going to Scotland. Sunny
is going in a puff-pufF to Scotland. And papa will
take her in a boat, and she will catch a big salmon.
Would you like to see Sunny catch a big salmon ? "
For it is the little girl's firm conviction that to see
Sunny doing anything m>ust be the greatest possi-
ble pleasure to those about her, — as perhaps it is.

Well, the important day arrived. Her mamma
was very busy. Little Sunshine helping her, — to
" help mamma " being always her grand idea.
The amount of work she did, in carrying her
mamma's clothes from the drawers to the port-
manteau, and carrying them back again ; watching
her dresses being folded and laid in the trunk, then
jumping in after them, smoothing and patting
them down, and, lastly, sitting upon them, cannot
be told. Every now and then she looked up,
'' Mamma, isn't Sunny a busy girl ? " — which
could not be denied.

The packing-up was such a great amusement —
to herself, at least — that it was with difficulty
she could be torn from it, even to get her dinner,
and be dressed for her journey, part of which was
to take place that day. At last she was got ready,
a good while before anybody else, and then she

r ••■V ■-■:». t^' . ^■.••- >

^'. • Sunshine

, i)i;:byc to Vhe
' TQCirdener &
ff ■ "h'is coiFe

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1/

Stood and looked at herself from head to foot in a
large mirror, and was very much interested in the
sight. Her travelling-dress was a gray water-
proof cloak, with a hood and pockets, where she
could carry all sorts of things, — her gloves, a
biscuit, the head of her dolly (its body had come
ofF), and two or three pebbles, which she daily
picked up in the garden, and kept to wash in her
bath night and morning, " to make them clean,"
for she has an extraordinary delight in things being
"quite clean." She had on a pair of new boots,
— buttoned boots, the first she ever had, — and she
was exceedingly proud of them, as well as of her
gray felt hat, underneath which was the usual
mass of curly yellow hair. She shook it from
side to side like a little lion's mane, calling out,
" Mamma, look at Sunny's curls ! Such a lot of
curls ! "

When the carriage came to the door, she
watched the luggage being put in very gravely.
Then all the servants came to say good-bye to
her. They were very kind servants, and very
fond of Little Sunshine. Even the gardener and
his wife looked quite sorry to part with her, but in
her excitement and delight the little lady of course
did not mind it at all.

" Good-bye ! good-bye ! I'm going to Scotland,"
she kept saying, and kissing her hand. " Sunny's

1 8 LITTLE SUXSH/A'E'S HOLIDAY.

going to Scotland in a pufF-puff. But she'll come
back again, she will."

' After which kind promise, meant to cheer them
up a little, she insisted on jumping into the
carriage "all by her own self," — she dearly likes
doing anything " all mv own self," — and, kissing
her hand once more, was driven away with her
mamma and her nurse (whose name is Lizzie)
to meet her papa in London.

Having been several times in a " puff-puff," and
once in London, she was not a bit frightened at
the streets or the crowd. Onlv in the confusion
at Euston Square she held very tight to her
mamma's hand, and at last whispered, " Alamma,
take her ! up in you arms, up in vou own arm.s ! "
— her phrase when she was almost a baby. And
though she is now a big girl, who can walk, and
even run, she clung tightly to her mamma's neck,
and would not be set down again until transferred
to her papa, and taken by him to look at the
engine.

Papa and his little girl are both \ery fond of
engines. This was such a large one, newly
painted, with its metal-work so clean and shiny,
that it was quite a picture. Though sometimes it
gave a snort and a puff like a li\"e creature. Sunny
was not afraid of it, but sat in her papa's arms
watching it, and then walked gravely up and

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 9

down with him, holding his hand and making all
sorts of remarks on the things she saw, which
amused him exceedingly. She also informed him
of what she was going to do, — how she should
jump into the puff-pufF, and then jump out again,
and sleep in a cottage, in a quite new bed, where
Sunny had never slept before. She chattered so
fast, and was so delighted at everything about her,
that the time went rapidly by ; and her papa, who
could not come to Scotland for a week yet, was
obliged to leave her. When he kissed her, poor
Little Sunshine set up a great cry.

" I don't want vou to go away. Papa ' papa ! "
Then, bursting into one of her pathetic little furies,
" 1 won't let papa go away ! I won't I "

She clung to him so desperately that her little
arms had fairlv to be untied from round his neck,
and it was at least two minutes and a half before
she could be comforted.

But when the train began to move, and the
carriageful of people to settle down for the journey.
Sunny recovered herself, and grew interested in
watching them. They were all gentlemen, and
as each came in, mamma had suggested that if he
objected to a child, he had better choose another
carriaee ; but nobodv did. One — who looked
like the father of a family — said: "Ma'am, he
must be a verv selfish kind of man who does

20 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

object to children, — that is, good children." So
mamma earnestly hoped that hers would be a good
child.

So she was, — for a | ime. There were

such interesting things to see out of the window :
puff-pufFs without end, some moving on the rails,
some standing still, — some with a long train
behind them, some without. What perplexed
and troubled Little Sunshine most was to see the
men who kept running across the rails and duck-
ing under the engines. She got quite excited
about them.

" That poor man must not go on the rails, else
the pufF-pufF will run over him and hurt him.
Then Sunny must pick him up, and take him to
her nursery, and cuddle him." (She always wants
to cuddle everybody who is ill or hurt.) " Mam-
ma, tell that poor man he mustnt go on the
rails."

And even when mamma explained that the
man knew what he was about, and was not likely
to let himself be run over by anv pufF-puff, the
little girl still looked anxious and unhappy, until
the train swept right awav into the open country,
with fields and trees, and cows and baa-lambs.
These last delighted her much. She kept nodding
her head and counting them. " There's papa
baa-lambs, and mamma baa-lambs, and little baby

LITTLE SUXSHIXE'S HOLIDAY. 21

baa-lambs, just like I ittt Sunny ; and they all
run about tognheri -aiidthev are so happy.''

Everything, - - lo jked as happy as the

lambs and the chiL ^c was a bright September
dav, the trees just beginning to change colour, and
the rich midland counties of England — full of
farms and pasture-lands, with low hills sloping
up to the horizon — looked specially beautiful.
But the people in the carriage did not seem to
notice anything. They were all gentlemen, as I
said, and they had all got their afternoon papers,
and were reading hard. Not much wonder, as the
newspapers were terribly interesting that day, —
the day after the capitulation of Sedan, when the
Emperor Louis Napoleon surrendered himselt and
his army to King William of Prussia. When
Little Sunshine has grown a woman, she will
understand all about it. But now she only sat
looking at the baa-lambs out of the window, and
now and then pulling, rather crossly, at the news-
paper in her mamma's hand. " I don't want you
to read ! " In her day, may there never be read
such dreadful things as her mamma read in those
newspapers !

The gentlemen at last put down theirs, and
began to talk together, loudly and fast. Sun-
shine's mamma listened, now to them, now to her
little girl, who asked all sorts of questions, as

22 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

usual. " What's that ? you tell me about that,"
she is always saying, as she twists her fingers
tight in those of her mamma, who answers at
once, and exactly, so far as she knows. When
she does not know, — and even mammas cannot
be expected to understand everything, — she says,
plainly, " My little girl, I don't know." And her
little girl always believes her, and is satisfied.

Sunshine was growing rather tired now ; and the
gentlemen kept on talking, and did not take any
notice of her, or attempt to amuse her, as strangers
generally do, she being such a lively and easily
amused child, r^er mamma, fearful of her rest-
lessness, struck out a brilliant idea.

Little Sunshine has a cousin Georgy, whom she
is very fond of, and who a few days before had
presented her with some pears. These pears had
but one fault, — they could not be eaten, being as
hard as bullets, and as sour as crabs. They tried
the little girl's patience exceedingly, but she was
very good. She v/ent every morning to look at
them as they stood ranged in a row along mamma's
window-sill, and kissed them one by one to make
them ripe. At last they did ripen, and were grad-
ually eaten, — except one, the biggest and most
beautiful of all. " Suppose," mamma suggested,
" that we keep it two days more, then it will be
quite ripe ; mamma will put it in her pocket, and

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 23

we wiil eat it in the train half-way to Scotland."
Little Sunshine looked disappointed, but she did
not cry, nor worry mamma, — who, she knows,
never changes her mind when once she says No,
— and presently forgot all about it. Until, lo !
just as the poor little girl was getting dull and
tired, with nothing to do, and nobody to play with,
mamma pulled out of her pocket — the identical
pear ! Such a pear ! so large and so pretty, —
almost too pretty to eat. The child screamed
with delight, and immediately began to make
public her felicity.

" That's mamma's pear ! " said she, touching
the coat-sleeve of the old gentleman next her, — a
very grim old gentlemen, — an American, thin and
gaunt, with a face not unlike the wolf in Little
Red Ridinghood. " That's mamma's pear. Mam-
ma 'membered (remembered) to bring Sunny that
pear ! "

" Eh ? " said the old gentleman, shaking the
little fingers off, not exactly in unkindness, but as
if it were a fly that had settled on him and fidgeted
him. But Sunny, quite unaccustomed to be
shaken off, immediately drew back, shyly and
half offended, and did not look at him again.

He went on talking, in a cross and " cantan-
kerous " way, to another gentlemen, with a gray
beard, — an Lidian officer, just come from Cash-

24 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

mere, which he declared to be the finest country
in the world \ while the American said angrily
"that it was nothing like Virginia." But as
neither had been in the other country, they were
about as able to judge the matter as most people
are when they dispute about a thing. Neverthe-
less, they discussed the question so violently, that
Little Sunshine, who is not used to quarrelling, or
seeing people quarrel, opened her blue eyes wide
with astonishment.

Fortunately, she was engrossed by her pear,
which took a long time to eat. First, it had to
be pared, — in Ion? parings, which twisted and
dangled like Sunshine's curls. Then these parings
had to be thrown out of the window to the little
birds, which were seen sitting here and there on
the telegraph wires. Lastly, the pear had to be
eaten slowly and deliberately. She fed mamma,
herself, and Lizzie, too, turn and turn about, in
the most conscientious way ; uttering at each
mouthful that ringing laugh which I wish 1 could
put into paper and print ; but I can't. By the
time all was done. Sunshine had grown sleepy.
She cuddled down in her mamma's arms, with
a whispered request for " Maymie's apron."

Now here a confession must be made. The
one consolation of life to this little person is the
flannel apron upon which her first nurse used to

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 2$

wash her when she was a baby. She takes the
two corners of it to stroke her face with one hand,
while she sucks the thumb of the other, — and so
she lies, meditating with open eyes, till at last she
goes to sleep. She is never allowed to have the
apron in public, so to-day her mamma was obliged
to invent a little " Maymie's apron " — a small
square of flannel — to comfort her on the long
railway journey. This being produced, though
she was a little ashamed, and blushed in her pretty
childish way, she turned her back on the gentle-
men in the carriage and settled down in deep
content, her eyes fixed on mamma's face. Gradu-
ally they closed — and the lively little woman lay
fast asleep, warm and heavy, in her mamma's
arms.

There she might have slept till the journey's
end, but for those horrid gentlemen, who began to
quarrel so fiercely about French and Prussians,
and which had the right of it in this terrible war,
— a question which you little folks even when
you are great big folks fifty years hence may
hardly be able to decide, — that they disturbed
the poor child in her happy sleep, and at last she
started up, looking round her with frightened eyes,
and began to scream violently. She had been so
good all the way, so little trouble to anybody, that
mamma could not help thinking it served the

26 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

gentlemen right, and told them, severely, that " if
gentlemen did differ, they need not do it so angrily
as to waken a child." At which they all looked
rather ashamed, and were quiet for the rest of the
journey.

It did not last much longer ; and again the little
girl had the fun of jumping out of a puff-puff and
into a carriage. The bright day closed ; it was
already dusk, and pouring rain, and they had to
drive a long way, stop at several places, and see
several new people whom Little Sunshine had
never seen before. She was getting tired and
hungry, but still kept good and did not cry ; and
when at last she came to the cottage which her
mamma had told her about, where lived an old
gentleman and lady who had been very kind to
mamma, and dear grandmamma, too, for many
years, and would be very kind to the little girl,
Sunny ran in at once, as merry as possible.

After awhile mamma followed, and lo ! there
was Little Sunshine, quite at home already, sitting
in the middle of the white sheep-skin hearth-rug,
having taken half her " things " off, chattering in
the most friendly manner, and asking to be lifted
up to see " a dear little baby and a mamma,"
which was a portrait of the old lady's eldest sister
as an infant in her mother's arms, about seventy
years ago.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 2/

And what do you think happened next ? Sunny
actually sat up to supper, which she had never
done in all her life before, — supper by candle-
light : a mouthful of fowl, and a good many mouth-
fuls of delicious cream, poured, with a tiny bit of
jam in the middle of it, into her saucer. And she
made a large piece of dry toast into " fishes," and
swam them in her mamma's tea, and then fished
them out with a teaspoon, and ate them up.
Altogether it was a wonderful meal and left her
almost too wide awake to go to bed, if she had
not had the delight of sleeping in her mamma's
room instead of a nursery, and being bathed,
instead of in her own proper bath, in a washing-
tub !

This washing-tub was charming. She eyed it
doubtfully, she walked around it, she peered over
it ; at last she slowly got into it.

"Come and see me in my bath; come and see
Sunny in her bath," cried she, inviting all the
family, half of whom accepted the invitation.
Mamma heard such shouts of laughing, with her
little girl's laugh clearer than all, that she was
obliged to go up-stairs to see what was the matter.
There was Sunshine frolicking about and splashing
like a large fish in the tub, the maids and mistresses
standing round, exceedingly amused at their new
plaything, the little " water baby."

28 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

But at last the clay's excitement was over, and
Sunny lay in her white nightgown, cuddled up
like a round ball in her mamma's lap, sucking her
Maymie's apron, and listening to the adventures
of Tommy Tinker. Tommy Tinker is a young
gentleman about whom a story, " a quite new
story, which Sunny never heard before," has to be
told every night. Mamma had done this for two
months, till Tommy, his donkey, his father, John
Tinker, who went about the country crying " Pots
and kettles to mend," his schoolfellow, Jack, and
his playfellow, Mary, were familiar characters,
and had gone through so much that mamma was
often puzzled as to what should happen to them
next ; this night especially, when she herself was
rather tired, but fortunately the little girl grew
sleepy very soon.

So she said her short prayers, ending with
" God make Sunny a good little girl " (to which
she sometimes deprecatingly adds, " but Sunny is
a good girl "), curled down in the beautiful large
strange bed, — such a change from her little crib
at home, — and was fast asleep in no time.

Thus ended the first day of Little Sunshine's
Holiday.

CHAPTER II.

Next morning Little Sunshine was awake very
early, sitting upright in bed, and trying to poke
open her mamma's eyes ; then she looked about
her in the new room with the greatest curiosity.

" There's my tub ! There's Sunny's tub ! I want
to go into my tub again ! " she suddenly cried, with
a shout of delight, and insisted on pattering over
to it on her bare feet, and swimming all sorts of
things in it, — a comb, a brush, biscuits, the soap-
dish and soap, and a large penny, which she had
found. These kept her amused till she was ready
to be dressed, after which she went independently
down-stairs, where her mamma found her, as
before, sitting on the white rug, and conversing
cheerfully with the old gentleman and lady, and
the rest of the family.

After breakfast she was taken into the garden.
It was a very nice garden, with lots of apple-trees
in it, and many apples had fallen to the ground.
Sunshine picked them up and brought them in her
pinafore, to ask mamma if she might eat them, —

29

30 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

for she never eats anything without saying, " May
I ? " and when it is given to her she always says,
"Thank you."

Then she went back into the garden again, and
saw no end of curious things. Everybody was so
kind to her, and petted her as if there had never
been a child in the house before, which certainly
there had not for a great many years. She and
her mamma would willingly have stayed ever so
much longer in the dear little cottage, but there
was another house in Scotland, where were wait-
ing Sunshine's two aunties ; not real aunties, for
she has none, nor uncles neither; but she is a
child so well loved, that she has heaps of adopted
aunts and uncles, too. These, — Auntie Weirie
and Auntie Maggie, — with other kind friends,
expected her without fail that very night.

So Sunny was obliged to say good-bye, and
start again, which she did on her own two little
feet, for the fly forgot to come ; and her mamma,
and her Lizzie, and two more kind people, had to
make a rush of more than a mile, or they would
have missed the train. If papa, or anybody at
home, had seen them, — half walking, and half
running, and carrying the little girl by turns, or
making her run between them, till she said, mourn-
fully, "Sunny can't run. Sunny is so tired!" —
how sorry they would have been !

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 3 I

And when at the station she lost her mamma,
who was busy about luggage, poor Sunny's troubles
seemed great indeed. She screamed until mamma
heard her ever so far off, and when she caught
sight of her again, she clung around her neck in
the most frantic way. " I thought you was lost ;
I thought you was lost."

(Sunny's grammar is not perfect yet. She can-
not understand tenses ; she says " brang " instead
of " brought," and once being told that this was
not right, she altered it to " I brung," which,
indeed, had some sense, for do we not say " I
rang," and " I rung ? " Perhaps Little Sunshine
will yet write a book on grammar — who knows ?)

Well, she parted from her friends, quite cheer-
fully of course, — she never cries after anybody
but her mamma and papa, — and soon made
acquaintance with her fellow travellers, who this
time were chiefly ladies. It being nearly one
o'clock, two of them took a beautiful basket of
lunch : sandwiches, and cakes, and grapes. Little
Sunshine watched it with grave composure until
she saw the grapes, which were very fine. Then
she could not help whispering to her rriamma, very
softly, "Sunny likes grapes."

" Hush ! " said mamma, also in a whisper.
"They are not ours, so we can't have them," —
an answer which always satisfies this little girl.

32 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

She said no more. But perhaps the young lady
who was eating the grapes saw the silent, wistful
eyes, for she picked off the most beautiful half of
the bunch and handed it over. " Thank you,"
said Sunny, in the politest way. " Look, mamma !
grapes ! — shall I give you one ? " And the delight
of eating them, and feeding mamma with them,
"like a little bird," altogether comforted her for
the troubles with which she began her journey.

Then she grew conversational, and informed
everybody that Sunny was going to Scotland, to
a place where she had never been before, and
that she was to row in a boat and catch big salmon,
— which no doubt interested them much. She
herself was so interested in everything she saw,
that it was impossible not to share her enjoyment.
She sat or stood at the carriage window and
watched the view. It was quite different from
anything she had been used to. Sunny lives in
a very pretty but rather level country, full of
woods and lanes, and hedges and fields ; but she
had never seen a hill or a river, or indeed (except
the Thames) any sort of water bigger than a
horse-pond. Mamma had sometimes shown her
pictures of mountains and lakes, but doubted if
the child had taken it in, and was therefore quite
surprised when she called out, all of a sudden,
" There's a mountain ! "

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 33

And a mountain it really was, — one of those
Westmoreland hills, bleak and bare, which gradu-
ally rise up before travellers' eyes on the North
journey, a foretaste of all the beautiful things that
are coming. Mamma, delighted, held up her little
girl to look at it, — the first mountain Sunny ever
saw, — with its long, smooth slopes, and the sheep
feeding on them, dotted here and there like white
stones, or moving about like walking daisies.

Little Sunshine was greatly charmed with the
" baa-lambs." She had seen plenty this spring, —
white baa-lambs and black baa-lambs, and white
baa-lambs with black faces, — but never so many
at a time. And they skipped about in such a
lively way, and stood so funnily in steep places,
with their four little legs all screwed up together,
looking at the train as it passed, that she grew
quite excited, and wanted to jump out and play
with them.

To quiet her, mamma told her a story about
the mountains, how curious they looked in winter,
all covered with snow ; and how the lambs were
sometimes lost in the snow, and the shepherds
went out to find them, and carried them home
in their arms, and warmed them by the fireside
and fed them, until they opened their eyes, and
stretched their little frozen legs, and began to run
about the floor.

34 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Little Sunshine listened, with her wide blue
eyes fixed on the mountain, and then upon her
mamma's face, never saying a word, till at length
she burst out quite breathless, for she does not yet
know words enough to get out her thoughts, with :

" I want a little baa-lamb. No," — she stopped
and corrected herself, — "I want two little baa-
lambs. I would go and fetch them in out of the
snow, and carry them in my little arms, and lay
them on Maymie's apron by my nursery fire, and
warm them, and make them quite well again.
And the two dear little baa-lambs would play
about together — so pretty."

It was a long speech, — the longest she had ever
made all at once, — and the little girl's eyes
sparkled and her cheeks grew hot, with the dif-
ficulty she had in getting it out, so that mamma
might understand. But mamma understands a
good deal. Only it was less easy to explain to
Sunny that she could neither have a lamb to play
with, nor go out on the mountain to fetch it.
However, mamma promised that if ever a little
lamb were lost in the snow near her own house,
and her gardener were to find it, he should be
allowed to bring it in, and Sunny should make
it warm by the fire and be kind to it, until it was
quite well again.

But still the child went back now and then to

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY, 35

the matter in a melancholy voice. " I don't like
a dear little baa-lamb to be lost in the snow. I
want a little baa-lamb in my nursery. I would
cuddle it and take such care of it " (for the
strongest instinct of this little woman is to "take
care" of people). "Mamma, some day may
Sunny have a little baa-lamb to take care of?"

Mamma promised ; for she knew well that if
Sunnv grows up to be a woman, with the same
instinct of protection that she has now, God may
send her many of His forlorn " lambs " to take
care of.

Presently the baa-lambs were forgotten in a
new sight, — a stream; a real, flowing, tumbling
stream, — which ran alongside of the railway for
ever so far. It jumped over rocks, and made
itself into white foamy whirlpools ; it looked so
very much alive, and so unlike any water that
Sunny had ever seen before, that she was quite
astonished.

" What's that \ What's that ? " she kept saying ;
and at last, struck with a sudden idea, " Is it
Scotland ? "

What her notion of Scotland was, — whether a
place, or a person, or a thing, — her mamma could
not make out, but the name was firmly fixed in
her mind, and she recurred to it constantly. All
the long, weary journey, lasting till long after her

36 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

proper bedtime, she never cried or fretted, or
worried anybody, but amused herself without ceas-
ing at what she saw. She ate her dinner merrily
— "such a funny dinner, — no plates, no forks,
no table-cloth " — and her tea, — milk drank out of
a horn cup, instead of "great-grandpapa's mug,
which he had when he was a little boy," — which
she used when at home.

As the day closed in, she grew tired of looking
out of the window, snuggled up in her mam-
ma's arms, and, turning her back upon the people
in the carriage, whispered, blushing very much :
" Maymie's apron — Sunny wants the little May-
mie's apron ; " and lay sucking it meditatively, till
she dropped asleep.

She was asleep when the train reached Scotland.
She did not see the stars coming out over the
Grampian Hills, nor the beautiful fires near Gart-
sherrie — that ring of iron furnaces, blazing
fiercely into the night — which are such a won-
derful sight to behold. And she only woke up in
time to have her hat and cloak put on, and be told
that she was really in Scotland, and would see her
aunties in a minute more. And, sure enough, in
the midst of the bustle and confusion, there was
Auntie Weirie's bright face at the carriage-door,
with her arms stretched out to receive the sleepy
little traveller.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 37

Four or five miles were yet to be accomplished,
but it was in a comfortable carriage, dark and

quiet.

The little girl's tongue was altogether silent, —
but she was not asleep, for all of a sudden she
burst out, as if she had been thinking over the
matter for a long time, " Mamma, you forgot the

tickets."

Everybody laughed ; and mamma explained to

her most accurate little daughter that she had

given up the tickets while Sunny was asleep.

Auntie Weirie forboded merrily how Sunny would

" keep mamma in order " by and by.

Very sleepy and tired the poor child was ; but,

except one entreaty for " a little drop of milk,"

which somehow was got at, — she made no

complaint, and never once cried until the carriage

stopped at the house-door.

Oh, such a door and such a house ! Quite a

fairy palace ! And there, standing waiting, was a
pretty lady, — not unlike a fairy lady, — who took
Little Sunshine in her arms and carried her off,
unresisting, to a beautiful drawing-room, where, in
the great tall mirrors, she could see herself every-
where at full length.

What a funny figure she was, trotting about
and examining everything, as she always does on
entering a strange room ! Her little water-proof

38 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

cloak made her look as broad as she was long ;
and when she tossed off her hat, her curls tumbled
about in disorder, and her face and hands were so
dirty that mamma was quite ashamed. But no-
body minded it, and everybody welcomed her, and
the pretty lady carried her off again up-stairs into
the most charming extempore nursery, next to
her mamma's room, where she could run in and
out, and be as happy as a queen.

She was as happy as a queen, when she woke
up next morning to all the wonders of the house.
First there was a poll-parrot, who could say not
only, " Pretty Poll ! " but a great many other
words : could bark like a dog, grunt like a pig, and
do all sorts of wonderful things. He lived chiefly
in the butler's pantry, but was brought out on
occasion for the amusement of visitors. Sunny
was taken to see him directly ; and there she stood,
watching him intently, laughing sometimes In her
sudden, ecstatic way, with her head thrown back,
and her little nose all crumpled up, till, being only
a button of a nose at best, it nearly disappeared
altogether.

And then, In the breakfast-room there were two
dogs, — Jack, a young rough Scotch terrier, and
Bob, a smooth terrier, very ugly and old. Now
Sunny's dog at home. Rose, who was a puppy
when she was a baby, so that the two were

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 39

brought up together, is the gentlest creature imag-
inable. She will let Sunny roll over her, and pull
her paws and tail, and even put her little fat hand
into her mouth, without growling or biting. But
these strange dogs were not used to children.
Sunny tried to make friends with them, as she
tries to do with every live creature she sees ; even
crying one day because she could not manage to
kiss a spider, it ran away so fast. But Bob and
Jack did not understand her affection at all.
When she stroked and patted them, and vainly
tried to carry them in her arms, by the legs, head,
tail, or anywhere she could catch hold of, they
escaped away, scampering off as fast as they
could. The little girl looked after them with
mournful eyes ; it was hard to see them frolicking
about, and not taking the least notice of her.

But very soon somebody much better than
a little dog began to notice her, — a kind boy
named Franky, who, though he was a school-
boy, home for the holidays, did not think it in
the least beneath his dignity to be good to a little
girl. She sat beside him at prayers, during which
time she watched him carefully, and evidently
made up her mind that he was a nice person, and
.one to be played with. So when he began playing
with her, she responded eagerly, and they were
soon the best of friends.

40

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Presently Franky had to leave her and go with
his big brother down to the bottom of a coal mine,
about which he had told such wonderful stories,
that Little Sunshine, had she been bigger, would
certainly have liked to go too. "You jump into
a basket, and are let down, v*-^*-

down, several hundred feet, w^^"^"*^

till you touch the bottom,
and then you find a new

world underground : long passages, so narrow
that you cannot stand upright, and loftier rooms
between, and men working — as black as the
coal themselves — with lights in their caps. Also
horses, dragging trucks full of coal, — horses
that have never seen the daylight since they were

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 4 1

taken down the pit, perhaps seven or ten years
ago, and will never see daylight again as long
as they live. Yet they live happily, are kindly
treated, and have comfortable stables, all in the
dark of the coal mine, — and no doubt are quite
as content as the horses that work in the outside
world, high above their heads."

Sunshine heard all this. I cannot say that she
understood it, being such a very little girl, you
know ; but whenever Franky opened his lips she
watched him with intense admiration, and when
he was gone she looked quite sad. However,
she soon found another friend in the pretty
lady, Franky's mamma. Her own mamma was
obliged to go out directly after breakfast, so this
other mamma took Sunny under her especial
protection, and showed her all about the house.
First, they visited the parrot, who went through
all his performances over again. Then they pro-
ceeded up-stairs to what used to be the nursery,
only the little girls had grown into big girls, and
were now far away at school. But their mamma
showed Sunny their old toy-cupboard, where were
arranged, in beautiful order, playthings so lovely
that it was utterlv impossible such very tiny
fingers could safely be trusted with them.

So Little Sunshine was obliged to practise the
lesson she has learnt with her mamma's china

42 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

cabinet at home, — " Look and not touch." Ever
since she was a baby, Wedgwood ware, Sevres and
Dresden china, all sorts of delicate and precious
things, have been left within her reach on open
shelves ; but she was taught from the first that
she must not touch them, and she never does.
" The things that Sunny may play with," such as
a small plaster hand, a bronze angel, and a large
agate seal, she takes carefully out from among the
rest, and is content with them, — just as content
as she was with one particular doll which the
pretty lady chose out from among these countless
treasures and gave to her to play with.

Now Sunny has had a good many dolls, —
wooden dolls, gutta-percha dolls, dolls made of
linen with faces of wax, — but none of them had
ever lasted, entire, for more than twenty-four hours.
They always met with some misfortune or other,

— lost a leg or an arm \ their heads dropped ofF,
and the sawdust ran out of their bodies, leaving
them mere empty bits of calico, not dolls at all.
The wrecks she had left behind her at home —
bodies without heads, heads without bodies, arms
and legs sewed upon bodies that did not belong to
them, or strewed about separately in all directions

— would have been melancholv to think of, only
that she loved them quite as well in that dis-
membered condition as when they v^ere new.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 43

But this was a dolly, — such a dolly as Sunny
had never had before. Perfectly whole, with a
pretty waxen face, a nose, and two eyes ; also
hair, real hair that could be combed. This she at
once proceeded to do with her mamma's comb,
just as her Lizzie did her own hair every morn-
ing, until the comb became full of long flaxen
hairs — certainly not mamma's — and there grew
a large bald place on the top of dolly's head,
which Sunny did not understand at all. There-
upon her Lizzie came to the rescue, and proposed
tying up the poor remnant of curls with a blue
ribbon, and dressing dolly, whose clothes took oft*
and on beautifully, in her out-of-doors dress, so
that Sunshine might take her a walk, in the garden.

Lizzie is a very ingenious person in mending
and dressing dollies, and has also the gift of
unlimited patience with her charge; so the toilet
went off very well, and soon both Sunshine and
her doll were ready to go out with Franky's
mamma and see the cows, pigs, sheep, chickens,
and all the wonders of the outside establishment,
which was a very large one.

Indeed, the pretty lady showed her so many
curious things, and played with her so much, that
when, just before dark, her own mamma came
back, and saw a little roly-poly figure, hugging a
large doll, running as fast as ever it could along

44 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

the gravel-walk to meet her, she felt convinced
that the first day in Scotland had been a most
delightful one, altogether perfect in its u^ay. So
much so that, when put to bed. Sunny again for-
got Tommy Tinker. She was chattering so much
of all she had seen, that it was not until the last
minute that she remembered to ask for a " story."

There was no story in mamma's head to-night.
Instead, she told something really true, which had
happened in the street near the house where she
had spent the day :

A poor little boy, just come out of school, was
standing on the top of the school-door steps, with
his books in his hand. Suddenly a horse that was
passing took fright, rushed up the steps, and
knocked the boy down. He fell several feet, and
a huge stone fell after, just on the top of him —
and — and —

Mamma stopped. She could not tell any more
of the pitiful story. Her child's eyes were fixed
upon her face, which Little Sunny reads some-
times as plain as any book.

" Mamma, was the poor little boy hurt .-* "

" Yes, my darling."

" Very much hurt ? "

" Very much, indeed."

Sunny sat upright, and began speaking loud and
fast, in her impetuous, broken way.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 45

" I want to go and see that poor little boy. I
will bring him to my nursery and put him in my
little bed, and take care of him. Then he will get
quite well."

And she looked much disappointed when her
mamma explained that this was not necessary ;
somebody having already carried the little boy
home to his mamma.

" Then his mamma will cuddle him, and kiss
the sore place, and he will be quite well soon. Is
he quite well ? "

"Yes," answered Sunny's mamma, after a
minute's thought, — "yes, he is quite well now;
nothing will ever hurt him any more."

Sunny was perfectly satisfied.

But her mamma, when she kissed the little
curly head, and laid it down on its safe pillow,
thought of that other mother, — mourning over a
dead child,— thoughts which Little Sunshine could
not understand, nor was there any need she should.
She may, some day, when she has a little girl of
her own.

CHAPTER III.

Little Sunshine had never yet beheld the sea.
That wonderful delight, a sea-beach, with little
waves running in and running back again, playing
at bo-peep among shingle and rocks, or a long
smooth sandy shore, where you may pick up shells
and seaweed and pebbles, and all sorts of curious
things, and build castles and dig moats, filled with
real water, — all this was unknown to the little
girl. So her mamma, going to spend a day with
a dear old friend, who lived at a lovely sea-side
house, thought she would take the child with her.
Also " the big child, " as her Sunny sometimes
called Lizzie, who enjoyed going about and seeing
new places as much as the little child.

They started directly after breakfast one morn-
ing, leaving behind them the parrot, the dogs, and
everything except Franky, who escorted them in
the carriage through four or five miles of ugly
town streets, where all the little children who ran
about (and there seemed no end of them) had very
rough bare heads, and very dirty bare feet.

46

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 47

Sunny was greatly struck by them.

" Look, mamma, that little boy has got no
shoes and stockings on ! Shall Sunny take off hers
and give them to that poor little boy ? "

And she was proceeding to unbutton her shoes,
when her mamma explained that — the boy being
quite a big boy — Sunny's shoes would certainly
not fit him, and if they did, he would probably not
put them on ; since in Scotland little boys and
girls often go barefooted, and like it. Had not
papa once taken off Sunny's shoes and stockings,
and let her run about upon the soft warm grass of
the lawn, calling her " his little Scotch girl .? "

Sunny accepted the reasoning, but still looked
perplexed at the bare feet. They were " so dirty,"
and she cannot bear to have the least speck of
4irt on feet or hands or clothes, or anywhere about
her. Her Auntie Weirie, on whose lap she sat,
and of whom she had taken entire possession, —
children always do, — was very much amused.

She put them safely into the train, which soon
started, — on a journey which mamma knew well,
but which seemed altogether fresh when seen
through her child's eyes. Such wonderful things
for Sunshine to look at! Mountains, — she thor-
oughly understood mountains now ; and a broad
river, gradually growing broader still, until it was
almost sea. Ships, too — some with sails, and

48 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

some with chimneys smoking; "a puff-puff on
the water," Sunny called them. Every now and
then there was a little "puff-puff" dragging a big
ship after it, and going so fast, fast, — the big ship
looking as proud as if it were sailing along all by
its own self, and the little one puffing and blow-
ing as busily as possible. Sunny watched them
with much curiosity, and then started a brilliant
idea.

" That's a papa-boat and that's a baby-boat,
and the baby-boat pulls the papa-boat along ! So
funny ! "

And she crumpled up her little face, and, toss-
ing up her head, laughed her quite indescribable
laugh, which makes everybody else laugh too.

There were various other curious things to be
seen on the river, especially some things which
mamma told her were called " buovs." These of
course she took to mean little " boys," and
looked puzzled, until mamma described them
as " big red thimbles," which she understood,
and noticed each one with great interest ever
afterward.

But it would be vain to tell all the things she
saw, and all the delight she took in them. Occa-
sionally her little face grew quite grave, such
difficulty had she in understanding the wonders
that increased more and more. And when at last

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 49

the journey was ended and the train stopped, the
little girl was rather troubled, and would not let
go of her mamma for a single minute.

For the lovelv autumn weather of yesterday
had changed into an equinoctial gale. Inland,
one did not so much perceive it, but at the seaside
it was terrible. People living on that coast will
long remember this particular day as one of the
wildest of the season, or for several seasons.
The wind blew, and the sea roared, as even
mamma, who knew the place well, had seldom
heard. Instead of tiny wavelets running after
Sunny's little feet, as had been promised her, there
were huge " white horses " rising and falling in
the middle of the river; while along the shore the
waves kept pouring in, and dashing themselves in
and out of the rocks, with force enough to knock
any poor little girl down. Sunny could not go
near them, and the wind was so high that her hat
had to be tied on ; and her cloak, a cape of violet
wool, which Auntie Weirie had rushed to fetch
at the last minute, in case of rain, was the greatest
possible blessing. Still, fasten it as Lizzie would,
the wind blew it loose again, and tossed her curls
all over her face in a furious fashion, which the
little girl could not understand at all.

"Sunny don't like it," said she, pitifully; and,
forgetful of all the promised delights, — shells,

50 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

and pebbles, and castles of sand, — took refuge
gladly in-doors.

However, this little girl is of such a happy
nature in herself that she quickly grows happy
anywhere. And the house she came to was such
a beautiful house, with a conservatory full of
flowers, — she is so fond of flowers, — and a large
hall to play in besides. Her merry voice was
soon heard in all directions, rather to her mamma's
distress, as the dear mistress of the house was not
well. But Sunny comprehends that she must
always speak in a whisper when people are not
well ; so she was presently quieted down, and
came into the dining-room and ate her dinner by
mamma's side, as good as gold. She has always
dined with mamma ever since she could sit up in
a chair, so she behaves quite properly, — almost
like a grown-up person. When she and mamma
are alone, they converse all dinner-time ; but when
there are other people present, she is told that
" little girls must be seen and not heard," — a rule
which she observes as far as she can. Not alto-
gether, I am afraid, for she is very fond of talking.

Still, she was good, upon the whole, and enjoyed
herself much, until she had her things put on
again, ready to start once more, in a kind lady's
carriage, which was ordered to drive slowly along
the shore, that Sunny might see as much as pos-

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 5 I

sible, without being exposed to the wind and
spray. She was much interested, and a little
awed. She ceased to chatter, and sat looking out
of the carriage window on the curve of shore,
over which the tide came pouring in long rollers,
and sweeping back again in wide sheets of water
mixed with white foam.

" Does Sunny like the waves ? " asked the kind
lady, who has a sweet way with children, and is
very good to them, though she has none of her
own.

" Yes, Sunny likes them," said the little girl,
after a pause, as if she were trving to make up
her mind. " 'Posing (supposing) Sunny were to go
and swim upon them? If — if mamma would
come too ? "

" But wouldn't Sunny be afraid ? "

" No," very decidedly this time. " Sunny
would be quite safe if mamma came too."

The lady smiled at mamma; who listened,
scarcely smiling, and did not say a word.

It was a terrible day. The boats, and even big
ships, were tossing about like cockle-shells on the
gray, stormy sea ; and the mountains, hiding them-
selves in mist, at last altogether disappeared.
Then the rain began to fall in sheets, as it often
does fall hereabouts, — soaking, blinding rain. At
the station it was hardlv possible to keep one's

52 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

footing : the little girl, if she had not been in her
Lizzie's arms, would certainly have been blown
down before she got into the railway carriage.
Once there, — safely sheltered from the storm,

— she did not mind it in the least. She jumped
about, and played endless tricks, to the great
amusement of two ladies, — evidently a mamma
and a grandmamma, — who compared her with
their own little people, and were very kind to her,

— as indeed everybody is when she travels. Still,
even they might have got tired out, if Sunny had
not fortunately grown tired herself, and began to
yawn in the midst of her fun in a droll way.

Then mamma slyly produced out of her pocket
the child's best travelling companion, — the little
Maymie's apron. Sunny seized it with a scream
of delight, cuddled down, sucking it, in her
mamma's arms, and in three minutes was sound
asleep. Nor did she once wake up till the train
stopped, and Lizzie carried her, so muffled up that
nobody could have told whether it was a little girl
or a brown paper parcel, to the carriage where faith-
ful Franky waited for her, and had waited ever
so long.

Fun and Franky always came together. Sunny
shook herself wide awake at once, — fresh as a
rose, and lively as a kitten. Oh, the games that
began, and lasted all the four miles that the car-

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY, 53

riage drove through the pelting rain ! Never u^as
a big boy kinder to a little girl ; so patient, so con-
siderate ; letting her do anything she liked W\\\i
him ; never cross, and never rough, — in short, a
thorough gentleman, as all boys should be to all
girls, and all men to all women, whether old or
young. And when home was reached, the fire,
like the welcome, was so warm and bright that
Sunny seemed to have lost all memory of her day
at the seaside, — the stormy waves, the dreary
shore, the wild wind, and pouring rain. She was
such a contented little girl that she never heeded
the weather outside. But her mamma did a little,
and thought of sailors at sea, and soldiers fighting
abroad, and many other things.

The happy visit was now drawing to a close.
Perhaps as well, lest, as some people foretold.
Sunny might get " quite spoiled," — if love spoils
anybody, which I do not believe. Certainly this
child's fehcities were endless. Everybody played
with her ; everybody was kind to her. Franky
and Franky's mamma, her two aunties, the parrot,
the dogs Bob and Jack, were her companions by
turns. There was another dog, Wallace by name,
but she did not play with him, as he was an older
and graver and bigger animal, — much bigger than
herself indeed. She once faintly suggested riding
him, " as if he was a pony," but the idea was not

54 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

caught at, and fell to the ground, as, doubtless^
Sunny would have done immediately, had she car-
ried out her wish.

Wallace, though big, was the gentlest dog
imaginable. He was a black retriever, belonging
to Franky's elder brother, a grown-up young gen-
tleman ; and his devotion to his master was entire.
The rest of the family he just condescended to
notice, but Mr. John he followed everywhere
with a quiet persistency, the more touching
because poor Wallace was nearly blind. He had
lost the sight of one eye by an accident, and could
see out of the other very little. They knew how
little, by the near chance he had often had of being
run over by other carriages in following theirs ; so
that now Franky's mamma never ventured to take
him out with her at all. He was kept away from
streets, but allowed to run up and down in the
country, where his wonderful sense of smell pre-
served him from any great danger.

This sense of smell, common to all retrievers,
seemed to have been doubled by Wallace's blind-
ness. He could track his master for miles and
miles, and find anything that his master had touched.
Once, just to try him, Mr. John showed him a
halfpenny, and then hid it under a tuft of grass,
and walked on across the country for half a mile
or more. Of course the dog could not see where

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 55

he hid it, and had been galloping about in all direc-
tions ever since ; yet when his master said, " Wal-
lace, fetch that halfpenny," showing him another
one, Wallace instantly turned back, smelling cau-
tiously about for twenty yards or so; then, having
caught the right scent, bounding on faster and
faster, till out of sight. In half an hour more he
came back, and ran direct to his master with the
halfpenny in his mouth.

Since, Mr. John had sent the dog for his stick,
his cap, or his handkerchief, often considerable
distances ; but Wallace always brought the thing
safe back, whatever it was, and laid it at his mas-
ter's feet. Mr. John was very proud of Wallace,
and very fond of him.

Sunny was not old enough to understand these
clevernesses of the creature, but she fully appre-
ciated one trick of his. He would hold a bit of
biscuit or sugar on his nose, quite steady, for
several minutes, while his master said " Trust,"
not attempting to eat it ; but when Mr. John said
" Paid for ! " Wallace gobbled it up at once.
This he did several times, to Sunshine's great
delight, but always with a sort of hesitation, as
if he considered it a little below the dignity of
such a very superior animal. And the minute
they were gone he would march away with his
slow, blind step, following his beloved master.

56 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

But all pleasures come to an end, and so did
these of Little Sunshine's. First, Franky went
ofF to school, and she missed him out of the house
very much. Then one day, instead of the reg-
ular morning amusements, she had to be dressed
quickly, to eat her breakfast twice as fast as usual,
and have her " things " put on all in a hurry, " to
go by the pufF-puff." Her only consolation was
that Dolly should have her things put on too, —
poor Dolly ! who, from constant combing, was
growing balder and balder every day, and whose
clothes were slowly disappearing, so that it re-
quired all Lizzie's ingenuity to dress her decently
for the journey.

This done. Sunny took her in her arms, and
became so absorbed in her as hardly to notice
the affectionate adieux of her kind friends, some
of whom went with her to the station : so she
scarcely understood that it was good-bye. And
besides, it is only elder folks who understand
good-byes, not little people. All the better, too.

Sunshine was delighted to be in a puff-pufF
again, and to see more mountains. She watched
them till she was tired, and then went comfortably
to sleep, having first made Dolly comfortable
too, lying as snug in her arms as she did in her
mamma's. But she and Dolly woke up at the
journey's end j when, indeed, Sunny became so

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 57

energetic and lively, that, seeing her mamma and
\j\tjX\q carrying each a bag, she insisted on carry-
ing something too. Seizing upon a large luncheon
basket which the pretty lady had filled with no
end of good things, she actually lifted it, and
bore it, tottering under its weight, for several
yards.

" See, mamma. Sunny can carry it," said she
in triumph, and her mamma never hinders the
little girl from doing everything she can do ;
wishing to make her a useful and helpful woman,
who will never ask anybody else to do for her
what she can do for herself.

The place they were going to was quite dif-
ferent from that they had left. It was only
lodgings, — in a house on the top of a hill, — but
they were nice lodgings, and it was a bright
breezy hill, sloping down to a beautiful glen,
through which ran an equally beautiful stream.
Thence, the country sloped up again, through
woods and pasture-lands, to a dim range of
mountains, far in the horizon. A very pretty
place outside, and not bad inside, only the little
girl's " nursery " was not so large and cheerful
as the one she was used to, and she missed the
full house and the merry companions. How-
ever, being told that papa was coming to-mor-
row, she brightened up, and informed everybody.

58 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

whether Interested or not In the fact, that " Sunny
was going to see papa jump out of a puff-pufF,
to-morrow." " To-morrow " being still to her
a very indefinite thing; but "papa jumping out
of a pufF-pufF" has long been one of the great
features of her existence.

Still, to-day she would have been rather dull,
if, when she went out into the garden, there had
not come timidly forward, to look at her, a little
girl, whose name mamma Inquired, and found that
It was Nelly.

Here a word or two ought to be said about
Nelly, for she turned out the greatest comfort
to solitary little Sunny, In this strange place.
Nelly was not exactly " a young lady ; " indeed, at
first she hung back In a sweet, shy way, as doubt-
ful whether Sunny's mamma yvould allow the
child to play with her. But Nelly was such a
good little girl, so well brought-up, and sensible,
though only ten years old, that a princess might
have had her for a playfellow without any disad-
vantage. And as soon as mamma felt sure that
Sunny would learn nothing bad from her, —
which Is the only real objection to playfellows,

— she allowed the children to be together as
much as ever thev liked.

Nelly called Sunshine " a bonnle wee lassie,"

— words which, not understanding what they

Tiellie and S»4nr\ui
on ^ha sVeps.

--4.' (StBt^

|||lf|.:.-Mf:-,P.|'-'lli.'iHM ' l'"-'Mi>l"Ulli|%l\|i||[||||p|l|^^

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 6 1

meant, had already offended her several times
since she came to Scotland.

, " I'm not a bonnie wee lassie, — I'm Sunny ;
mamma's little Sunny, I am ! " cried she, almost
in tears. But this was the only annoyance that
Nelly ever gave her.

Very soon the two children were sitting to-
gether in a most charming play-place, — some
tumble-down, moss-grown stone steps leading
down to the garden. From thence you could
see the country for miles, and watch the rail-
way trains winding along like big serpents, with
long feathers of steam and smoke streaming from
their heads in the daylight, and great red fiery
eyes gleaming through the dark.

Nelly had several stories to tell about them :
how once a train caught fire, and blazed up, —
they saw the blaze from these steps, — and very
dreadful it was to look at ; also, she wanted to
know if Sunny had seen the river below ; such a
beautiful little river, only sometimes people were
drowned in it, — two young ladies who were bath-
ing, and also a schoolmaster, who had fallen into
a deep hole, which was now called the Dominie's
Hole.

Nelly spoke broad Scotch, but her words were
well chosen, and her manner very simple and
gentle and sweet. She had evidentlv been care-

62 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

fully educated, as almost all Scotch children are.
She went to school, she said, every morning, so
that she could only play with Sunny of afternoons ;
but to-morrow afternoon, if the lady allowed, —
there was still that pretty, polite hesitation at any-
thing that looked like intrusiveness, — she would
take Sunny and her Lizzie a walk, and show them
all that was to be seen.

Sunny's mamma not only allowed this, but
was glad of it. Little Nelly seemed a rather grave
and lonely child. She had no brothers and sisters,
she said, but lived with her aunts, who were
evidently careful over her. She was a useful
little body ; went many a message to the village,
and did various things about the house, as a girl
of ten can often do ; but she was always neatly
dressed, her hands and face quite clean, and
her pretty brown hair, the chief prettiness she had,
well combed and brushed. And, above all, she
never said a rude or ugly word.

It was curious to see how Little Sunshine, who,
though not shy or repellent, is never affectionate
to strangers, and always declines caresses, saying
"she only kisses papa and mamma," accepted
Nelly's kiss almost immediately, and allowed her
to make friends at once. Nay, when bedtime
arrived, she even invited her to " come and see
Sunny in her bath," a compliment she only pays

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 63

occasionally to her chief favourites. Soon the two
solitary children were frolicking together, and the
gloomy little nursery — made up extempore out of
a back bedroom — ringing with their laughter.

At last, fairly tired with her day's doings, Sunny
condescended to go to sleep. Her mamma sat up
for an hour or two longer, writing letters, and
listening to the child's soft breathing through the
open door, to the equally soft soughing of the
wind outside, and the faint murmur of the stream,
deep below in the glen. Then she also went to
rest.

CHAPTER IV.

Nelly turned out more and more of an acqui-
sition every day. Pretty as this new place was,
Little Sunshine was not quite so happy as the
week before. She had not so many things to
amuse her out of doors, and indoors she was kept
more to her nursery than she approved of or was
accustomed to, being in her own home mamma's
little friend and companion all day long. Now
mamma was often too busy to attend to her, and
had to slip away and hide out of sight ; for when
ever Sunny caught sight of her, the wail of
" Mamma, mamma, I want you ! " was really sad
to hear.

Besides, she had another tribulation. In the
nearest house, a short distance down the lane,
lived six children whom she knew and was fond of,
and had come to Scotland on purpose to play with.
But alas ! one of them caught the measles, and.
Little Sunshine never having had measles, or anv-
thing, — in fact never having had a day's illness or
taken a dose of physic in her life, — the elders

64

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 65

decided that it was best to keep the little folks
apart. Mamma tried hard not to let Sunny find
out that her dear playfellows of old lived so near ;
but one day these sharp little ears caught their
names, and from that time she was always wanting
to go and play with them, and especially with
their "little baby."

" I want to see that little baby, mamma \ may
Sunny go and cuddle the dear little baby r "

But it was the baby which had the measles, and
some of the rest were not safe. So there was
nothing for it but to give orders to each household
that when they saw one another they were to run
away at once ; which thev most honourably did.
Still, it was hard for Sunny to see her little friends
— whom she recognised at once, though they had
not met for eight months — galloping about, as
merry as possible, playing at " ponies," and all
sorts of things, while she was kept close to her
Lizzie's side and not allowed to go near them.

Thus, but for kind little Nelly, the child
would have been dull, — at least, as dull as such a
sunshiny child could well be, — which was not
saying much. If she grows up with her present
capacity for enjoying herself, little Sunny will be
a blessing wherever she goes, since happy-minded
people alwavs make others happy. Still, Nelly
was welcome company, especially of afternoons.

66 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

The days passed on very much aHke. Before
breakfast. Sunny always went a walk with her
mamma, holding hands, and talking like two
grown-up persons, — about the baa-lambs, and
calves, and cows, which they met on their way
along the hillside. It was a beautiful hillside,
and everything looked so peaceful in the early
morning. They seldom met anybody, except
once, when thev were spoken to by a funny-look-
ing man, who greatly offended Sunny by asking if
she were a bov or girl, but added, " It's a fine bairn,
anyhow ! " Then he went on to say how he had
just come " frae putting John M'Ewen in his
coffin, ve ken \ I'm gaun to Glasgow, but I'll be
back here o' Saturday. Ay, av, I'll be back o' Sat-
urday," as if the assurance must be the greatest
satisfaction to Sunnv and her mamma. Mamma
thought he must have been drunk, but no, he was
only foolish, — a poor half-witted fellow, whom all
the neighbourhood knew, and were good to. He
had some queer points. Among the rest, a most
astonishing memory. He would go to church,
and then repeat the sermon, or long bits of it, off
by heart, to the first person he met. Though
silly, he was quite capable of taking care of him-
self, and never harmed anybody. Everybody,
Nelly said, was kind to '' daft John." Still, Sunny
did not fancy him, and when she came home she

LITTLE SUNSHIXE'S HOLIDAY. 6j

toid her papa a long stor)' about " that ugly
man !

She had great games with her papa now and
then, and was very happy whenever she could get
hold of him. But her great companion was Nelly.
From the minute Nelly came out of school till
seven o'clock, — Sunny's bedtime, — they were in-
separable ; and the way the big girl devoted herself
to the little one, the patience with which she sub-
mitted to all her vagaries, and allowed herself to
be tvrannised over, — never once failingr in good-
temper and pleasantness, — was quite pretty to see.
They played in the garden together, they went
walks, thev gathered blackberries, made them into
jam, in a little saucer by the fire, and then ate
them up. With a wooden spade, and a " luggie "
to fill with earth, they used to go up the hillside,
or down to the glen, sometimes disappearing for
so long that mamma was rather unhappy in her
mind, only Nelly was such a cautious little person,
that whenever she went she was sure to bring her
two charges home in safety.

One day, Nelly not being attainable, mamma
went with the " big child " and the little one to
the Dominie's Hole.

It was a real long walk, especially for such tiny
feet, that eighteen months ago could barely toddle
alone ; all across the field of the baa-lambs, which

68 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

always interested Sunny so much that it was diffi-
cult to get her past them \ she wanted to play with
them and "cuddle" them, and was much sur-
prised when they invariably ran away. However,
she was to-day a little consoled by mamma's hold-
ing her upon the top of the stone dike at the end
of the field, to watch " the water running " be-
tween the trees of the glen.

In Scotland water runs as I think it never does
in England, — so loudly and merrily, so fast and
bright. Even when it is brown water, — as when
coming over peat it often is, — there is a beauty
about it beyond all quiet Southern streams. Here,
however, it was not coloured, but clear as crystal
in every channel of the little river, and it was
divided into tiny channels by big stones, and shal-
low, pebbly watercourses, and overhanging rocks
covered with ferns, and heather, and mosses. Be-
neath these were generally round pools, where the
river settled dark and still, though so clear that
you could easily see to the bottom, which looked
only two or three feet deep, when perhaps it was
twelve or fifteen.

The Dominie's Hole was one of these. You
descended to it bv a winding path through the
glen, and then came suddenly out upon a sheltered
nook surrounded bv rocks, over which the honey-
suckles crept, and the birk or mountain ash grew

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 69

out of every possible cranny. Down one of these
rocks the pent-up stream poured in a noisy Httle
waterfall, forming below a deep bathing-pool, cut
in the granite — I think it was granite — like a
basin, with smooth sides and edges. Into this
pool, many years ago, the poor young " Dominie,"
or schoolmaster, had dived, and striking his head
against the bottom, had been stunned and drowned.
He was found floating, dead, in the lonely little
pool, which ever after bore his name.

A rather melancholy place, and the damp, sun-
less chill of it made it still more gloomy, pretty
as it was. Little Sunshine, who cannot bear
living in shadow, shivered involuntarily, and
whispered, " Mamma, take her ! " as she always
does in any doubtful or dangerous circumstances.
So mamma was obliged to carry her across several
yards of slippery stones, green with moss, that she
might look up to the waterfall, and down to the
Dominie's Hole. She did not quite like it, evi-
dently, but was not actually frightened, — she is
such a very courageous person whenever she is in
her mamma's arms.

When set down on her own two feet, the case
was different. She held by her mamma's gown,
looked at the noisy tumbling water with anxious
eyes, and seemed relieved to turn her back upon
it, and watch the half-dozen merry rivulets into

70 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

which it soon divided, as they spread themselves
in and out over the shallow channel of the stream.
What charming little baby rivers they were !
Sunny and her mamma could have played among
them for hours, damming them up with pebbles,
jumping over them, floating leaves down them,
and listening to their ceaseless singing, and their
dancing too, with bubbles and foam gliding on
their surface like little fairy boats, till — pop! —
all suddenly vanished, and were seen no more.

It was such a thirsty place, too, — until mamma
made her hand into a cup for the little girl, and
then the little girl insisted on doing the same for
mamma, which did not answer quite the same
purpose, being so small. At last mamma took
out of her pocket a letter (it was a sad letter, with
a black edge, but the child did not know that),
and made its envelope into a cup, from which
Sunny drank in the greatest delight. Afterward
she administered it to her mamma and her Lizzie,
till the saturated paper began to yield, — its in-
nocent little duty was done. However, Sunny
insisted on filling it again herself, and was greatly
startled when the bright, fierce-running water took
it right out of her hand, whirled it along for a
yard or two, and then sunk it, soaked through,
in the first eddy which the stream reached.

Poor child ! she looked after her frail treasure

LITTLE SUNSHINES HOLIDAY. J I

with eyes in which big tears — and Sunny's tears,
when they do come, are so very big ! — were just
beginning to rise ; and her rosy mouth fell at the
corners, with that pitiful look mamma knows
well, though it is not often seen.

*•' Never mind, my darling ; mamma will make
her another cup out of the next letter she has.
Or, better still, she will find her own horn cup,
that has been to Scotland so often, and gone about
for weeks in mamma's pocket, years ago. Now
Sunny shall have it to drink out of."

" And to swim ? May Sunny have it to swim ? "

" No, dear, because, though it would not go
down to the bottom like the other cup, it might
swim right away and be lost, and then mamma
would be so sorry. No, Sunny can't have it to
swim, but she may drink out of it as often as she
likes. Shall we go home and look for it } "

" Yes."

The exact truth, told in an intelligible and
reasonable way, always satisfies this reasonable
child, who has been accustomed to have every
prohibition explained to her, so far as was possi-
ble. Consequently, the sense of injustice, which
even very young children have, when it is roused,
never troubles her. She knows mamma will give
her everything she can, and when she does not,
it is simply because she can't ; and she tells

72 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Sunny why she can't, whenever Sunny can under-
stand it.

So they climbed contentedly up the steep brae,
and went home.

Nothing else happened here — at least to the
child. If she had a rather dull life, it was a
peaceful one. She was out-of-doors a great deal,
with Lizzie and Nelly of afternoons, with her
mamma of early mornings. Generally, each day,
the latter contrived to get a quiet hour or two ;
while her child played about the garden steps, and
she sat reading the newspaper, — the terrible news-
paper ! When Sunny has grown up a woman, she
will know what a year this year 1870 has been, and
understand how, many a time, when her mamma
was walking along with her, holding her little hand
and talking about all the pretty things they saw, she
was thinking of other mothers and other children,
who, instead of running merrily over sunshiny
hillsides, were weeping over dead fathers, or
dying miserably in burnt villages, or starving, day
by day, in besieged cities. This horrible war,
brought about, as war almost always is, by a i^vf
wicked, ambitious men, made her feel half frantic.

One day especially, — the day the Prussians
came and sat down before Paris, and began the
siege, — Little Sunshine was playing about, with
her little wooden spade, and a " luggie," that her

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 73

papa had lately bought for her ; filling it with peb-
bles, and then digging in the garden-beds, with all
her small might. Her mamma sat on the garden
steps, reading the newspaper. Sunny did not
approve of this at all.

" Come and build me a house. Put that
down," pulling at the newspaper, " and build
Sunny a house. Please, mamma," in a very gentle
tone, — she knows in a minute, by mamma's look,
when she has spoken too roughly, — " Please,
mamma, come and build Sunny a house."

And getting no answer, she looked fixedly at
her mamma, — then hugged her tight around the
neck and began to sob for sympathy. Poor
lamb ! She had evidently thought only little girls
cried, — not mammas at all.

The days ran on fast, fast 5 and it was time for
another move and another change in Little Sun-
shine's holiday. Of course she did not under-
stand these changes ; but she took them cheerfully,
— she was the very best of little travellers. The
repeated packing had ceased to be an interst to
her; she never wanted now to jump upon mam-
ma's gowns, and sit down on her bonnets, by way
of being useful ; but still the prospect of going in
a pufF-pufF was always felicitous. She told Nelly
all about it ; and how she was afterward to sail in
a boat, with Maurice and Maurice's papa (Mau-

74 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

rice was a little playfellow, of whom more pres-
ently), how they were to go fishing and catch big
salmon.

"Wouldn't you like to catch a big salmon?"
she asked Nelly, not recognising in the least that
she was parting with her, probably never to meet
again in all their lives. But the elder child looked
sad and grave during the whole of that day. And
when for the last time Nelly put her arms around
Sunny and kissed her over and over again, Sunny
being of course just as merry as ever, and quite
unconscious that they were bidding one another
good-bye, it was rather hard for poor little Nelly.

However, the child did not forget her kind
companion. For weeks and even months after-
wards, upon hearing the least allusion to this
place. Sunshine would wake up into sudden re-
membrance. "Where's Nelly? I want to see
Nelly, — I want Nelly to come and play with
me ;" and look quite disappointed when told
that Nelly was far away, and couldn't come.
Which was, perhaps, as much as could be
expected of three years old.

Always happy in the present, and frightened at
nothing so long as she was " close by mamma,"
Little Sunshine took her next journey. On the
way she stayed a night at the seaside place where
she had been taken before, and this time the

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

75

weather was kind. She wandered with her Lizzie
on the beach, and watched the waves for a long
time ; then she went indoors to play with some
other httle children, and to pay a visit to the dear
old lady who had
been ill, when she
was here last.
Here, I am afraid,
she did not behave
quite as well as she
ought to have done,
— being tired and
sleepy \ nor did she
half enough value
the kind little pres-
ents she got ; but

she will some day,

and understand the

difference between

eighty years of age

and three, and how

precious to a little

child is the blessing

of an old woman.

Sunny went to bed rather weary and forlorn,

but she woke up, next morning, and ran in to papa

and mamma, still in her nightgown, with her little

bare feet pattering along the floor, looking as

76 LITTLE SUNSHINE 'S HO LI DA Y.

bright as the sunshine itself. Which was very
bright that day, — a great comfort, as there was
a ten hours' sea-voyage before the little woman,
who had never been on board a steamboat, and
never travelled so long at a time in all her life.
She made a good breakfast to start with, sitting at
table with a lot of grown-up people whose faces
were as blithe as her own, and behaving very well,
considering. Then came another good-bye, of
course unheeded by Little Sunshine, and she was
away on her travels once more.

But what happened to her next must be put
into a new chapter.

CHAPTER V.

The pier Sunny started from was one near the
mouth of a large estuary or firth, where a great
many ships of all sorts are constantly coming and
going. Sometimes the firth is very stormy, as on
the first day when she was there, but to-day
it was smooth as glass. The mountains around it
looked half asleep in a sunshiny haze, and upon
the river itself was not a single ripple. The
steamers glided up and down in the distance as
quietly as swans upon a lake. You could just
catch the faint click-clack of their paddle-wheels,
and see the long trail of smoke following after
them, till it melted into nothing.

"Where's Sunny's steamboat ? Sunny is going
to sail in a steamboat," chattered the little girl ;
who catches up everything, sometimes even the
longest words and the queerest phrases, nobody
knows how.

Sunny*s steamboat lay alongside the pier. Its
engines were puffing and its funnel smoking; and
when she came to the gangway she looked rather

17

y8 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

frightened, and whispered, " Mamma, take her,"
holding out those pathetic little arms.

Mamma took her, and from that safe eminence
she watched everything: the men loosing the
ropes from the pier, the engines moving, the sea-
gulls flying about in little flocks, almost as tame
as pigeons. She was much amused by these sea-
gulls, which always follow the steamers, seeming
to know quite well that after every meal on board
they are sure to get something. She called her
Lizzie to look at them, — her Lizzie who always
sympathises with her in everything. Now it was
not quite easy, as Lizzie also had never been on
board a steamer before, and did not altogether
relish it.

But she, too, soon grew content and happy, for
it was a beautiful scene. There was no distant
view, the mountains being all in a mist of heat,
but the air was so bright and mild, with just
enough saltness in it to be refreshing, that it must
have been a very gloomy person who did not
enjoy the day. Little Sunshine did to the ut-
most. She could not talk, but became absorbed
in looking about her, endless wonder at every-
thing she saw or heard shining* in her blue eyes.
Soon she heard something which brightened them
still more.

" Hark, mamma ! music ! Sunny hears music."

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 79

It was a flute played on the lower deck, and
played exceedingly well.

Now this little girl has a keen sense of music.
Before she could speak, singing always soothed
her ; and she has long been in the habit of com-
manding extempore tunes, — "a tune that Sunny
never heard before," sometimes taking her turn to
offer one. " Mamma, shall I sing you a song, —
a song you never heard before ? " (Which cer-
tainly mamma never had ). She distinguishes
tunes at once, and is very critical over them.
"Sunny likes it," or "Sunny don't like it, — it
isn't pretty ;" and at the sound of any sort of
music she pricks up her ears, and will begin to
cry passionately if not taken to listen.

This flute she went after at once. It was
played by a blind man, who stood leaning against
the stairs leading to the higher deck, his calm,
sightless face turned up to the dazzling sunshine.
It could not hurt him ; he seemed even to enjoy
it. There was nobody listening, but he played on
quite unconsciously, one Scotch tune after an-
other, the shrill, clear, pure notes floating far over
the sea. Sunny crept closer and closer, — her
eyes growing larger and larger with intense delight,
— till the man stopped playing. Then she whis-
pered, " Mamma, look at that poor man ! Some-
kin wrong with his eyes."

80 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Sunny has been taught that whenever there is
" somekin (something) wrong" with anybody, —
when they are blind, or lame, or ugly, or queer-
looking, we are very sorry for them, but we never
notice it ; and so, though she has friends who can
not run about after her, but walk slowly with a
stick, or even two sticks, — also other friends who
only feel her little face, and pass their hands over
her hair, saying how soft it is, — mamma is never
afraid of her making any remark that could wound
their feelings.

" Hush ! the poor man can't see, but we must
not say anything about it. Come with mamma,
and we will give him a penny." All sorts of
money are " pennies " to Sunny, — brown pennies,
white pennies, yellow pennies ; only she much
prefers the brown pennies, because they are larg-
est, and spin the best. •

So she and mamma went up together to the
poor blind man. Sunny looking hard at him ; and
he was not pleasant to look at, as his blindness
seemed to have been caused by smallpox. But the
little girl said not a word, only put the white
" penny " into his hand and went away.

I wonder whether he felt the touch of those
baby fingers, softer than most. Perhaps he did, for
he began to play again, the " Flowers of the For-
est," with a pathos that even mamma in all her life

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 8 1

had never heard excelled. The familiar mountains,
the gleaming river, the " sunshiny " child, with
her earnest face, and the blind man playing there,
in notes that almost spoke the well-known words,

" Thy frown canna fear me, thy smile canna cheer me,
For the flowers o' the forest are a wede away."

It was a picture not easily to be forgotten.

Soon the steamer stopped at another pier, where
were waiting a number of people, ready to embark
on a large excursion boat which all summer long
goes up and down the firth daily, taking hundreds
of passengers, and giving them twelve pleasant
hours of sea air and mountain breezes. She was
called the lona^ and such a big boat as she
was ! She had two decks, with a saloon below.
On the first deck, the passengers sat in the open
air, high up, so as to see all the views; the second
was under cover, with glass sides, so that they
could still see all about ; the third, lower yet, was
the cabin, where they dined. There was a ladies'
cabin, too, where a good many babies and children,
with their nurses and mammas, generally stayed
all the voyage. Altogether, a most beautiful boat,
with plenty of play-places for little folk, and
comfortable nooks for elder ones ; and so big, too,
that, as she came steaming down the river, she
looked as if she could carry a townful of people.

82 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Indeed, this summer, when nobody has travelled
abroad, owing to the war, the lona had carried
regularly several hundreds a day.

Sunny gazed with some amazement from the
pier, where she had disembarked, in her mamma's
arms. It is fortunate for Sunny that she has a
rather tall mamma, so that she feels safely ele-
vated above any crowd. This was a crowd such
as she had never been in before ; it jostled and
pushed her, and she had to hold very tight round
her mamma's neck ; so great was the confusion,
and so difficult the passage across the gangway to
the deck of the lona. Once there, however,
she was as safe and happy as possible, playing all
sorts of merry tricks, and wandering about the
boat in all directions, with her papa, or her Lizzie,
or two young ladies who came with her, and were
very kind to her. But after awhile these quitted
the boat, and were watched climbing up a moun-
tainside as cleverly as if they had been young
deer. Sunny would have liked to climb a moun-
tain too, and mamma promised her she should
some day.

She was now in the very heart of the Highlands.
There were mountains on all sides, reflected every-
where in the narrow seas through which the boat
glided. Now and then came houses and piers,
funny little " baby " piers, at which the lona

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 83

Stopped and took up or set down passengers, when
everybody rushed to the side to look on. Sunny
rushed likewise ; she became so interested and
excited in watching the long waves the boat left
behind her when her paddles began to move
again, that her mamma was sometimes frightened
out of her life that the child should overbalance
herself and tumble in. Once or twice poor
mamma spoke so sharply that Sunny, utterly
unaccustomed to this, turned around in mute sur-
prise. But little girls, not old enough to under-
stand danger, do not know what terrors mammas
go through sometimes for their sakes.

It was rather a relief when Sunny became very
hungry, and the bag of biscuits, and the bottle of
milk occupied her for a good while. Then she
turned sleepy. The little Maymie's apron being
secretly produced, she, laughing a little, began to
suck it, under cover of mamma's shawl. Soon
she fell asleep, and lay for nearly an hour in per-
fect peace, her eyes shut upon mountains, sea, and
sky ; and the sun shining softly upon her little
face and her gold curls, that nestled close into
mamma's shoulder. Such a happy child !

Almost cruel it seemed to wake her up, but
necessary ; for there came another change. The
Iona*s voyage was done. The next stage of
the journey was through a canal, where were sights

84 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

to be seen so curious that papa and mamma were
as much interested in them as the little girl, who
was growing quite an old traveller now. She
woke up, rubbed her eyes, and, not crying at all,
was carried ashore, and into the middle of another
crowd. There was a deal of talking and scram-
bling, and rushing about with bags and cloaks, then
all the heavier luggage was put into two gigantic
wagons, which four great horses walked awav
with, and the passengers walked in a long string
of twos and threes, each after the others, for about
a quarter of a mile, till they came to the canal-
side. There lay a boat, so big that it could only
go forward and backward, — I am sure if it had
wanted to turn itself around it could not possibly
have done so ! On board of it all the people
began to climb. Very funny people some of
them were.

There was one big tall gentleman in a dress
Sunny had never seen before, — a cap on his head
with a feather in it, a bag with furry tails dangling
from his waist, and a petticoat like a little girl.
He had also rather queer shoes and stockings, and
when he took out from his ankle, as it seemed, a
shiny-handled sort of knife, and slipped it back
again. Sunny was very much surprised.

" Mamma," she whispered, " what does that
gentleman keep his knife in his stocking for } "

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 85

A question to which mamma could only answei
" that she really didn't know. Perhaps he hadn't
got a pocket."

" Sunny will give him her pocket, — her French
pinafore with pockets in it, shall she ? "

Mamma thought the big Highlander might not
care for Sunny's pretty muslin pinafore, with em-
broidery and Valenciennes lace, sewn for her by
loving, dainty hands ; and as the boat now moved
away, and he was seen stalking majestically off
along the road, there was no need to ask him the
question.

For a little while the boat glided along the
smooth canal, so close to either side that you felt
as if you could almost pluck at the bushes, and
ferns, and trailing brambles, with fast-ripening
berries, that hung over the water. On the other
side was a foot-road, where, a little way behind, a
horse was dragging, with a long rope, a small,
deeply laden canal-boat, not pretty like this one,
which went swiftly and merrily along by steam.
But at last it came to a stand, in front of two
huge wooden gates which shut the canal in, and
through every crevice of which the pent-in water
kept spouting in tiny cataracts.

" That's the first of the locks," said papa, who
had seen it all before, and took his little girl to the
end of the boat to show her the wonderful sight.

86 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

She was not old enough to have it explained, or
to understand what a fine piece of engineering
work this canal is. It cuts across country from
sea to sea, and the land not being level, but rising
higher in the middle, and as you know water will
not run up a hillside and down again, these locks
had to be made. They are, so to speak, boxes of
water with double gates at either end. The boat
is let into them, and shut in \ then the water upon
which it floats is gradually raised or lowered ac-
cording as may be necessary, until it reaches the
level of the canal beyond the second gate, which
is opened and the boat goes in. There are eight
or nine of these locks within a single mile, — a
very long mile, which occupies fully an hour. So
the captain told his passengers they might get out
and walk, which many of them did. But Sun-
shine, her papa and mamma, were much more
amused in watching the great gates opening and
shutting, and the boat rising or falling through the
deep sides of the locks. Besides, the little girl
called it " a bath," and expressed a strong desire
to jump in and " swim like a fish," with mamma
swimming after her ! So mamma thought it as
well to hold her fast by her clothes the whole
time.

Especially when another interest came, — three
or four little Highland girls running alongside,

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

8;

jabbering gayly, and holding out glasses of milk.
Her own bottle being nearly drained, Sunny begged
for some ; and the extraordinary difficulty papa
had in stretching over to get the milk without
spilling it, and return the empty glass without
breaking it, was a piece of fun more delightful
than even the refreshing draught. " Again ! " she

said, and wanted the performance all repeat?ed for
her private amusement.

She had now resumed her old tyranny over her
papa, whom she pursued everywhere. He could
not find a single corner of the boat in which to
hide and read his newspaper quietly, without hear-
ing the cry, " Where's my papa ? Sunny must go
after papa," and there was the little figure clutch-

88 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

ing at his legs. " Take her up in your arms ! up
in your own arms ! " To which the victim, not
unwillingly, consented, and carried her everywhere.

Little Sunshine's next great diversion was din-
ner. It did not happen till late in the afternoon,
when she had gone through, cheerfully as ever,
another change of boat, and was steaming away
through the open sea, which, however, was fortu-
nately calm as a duck-pond, or what would have
become of this little person ?

Papa questioned very much whether she was not
far too little a person to dine at the cabin-table
with all the other grown-up passengers, but
mamma answered for her that she would behave
properly, — she always did whenever she promised.
For Sunny has the strongest sense of keeping a
promise. Her one argument when wanting a
thing, an argument she knows never denied, is,
" Mamma, you promised." And her -shoemaker,
who once neglected to send home her boots, has
been immortalised in her memory as " Mr. James
So-and-so, who broke his promise."

So, having promised to be good, she gravely
took her papa's hand and walked with him down
the long cabin to her place at the table. There
she sat, quite quiet, and very proud of her posi-
tion. She ate little, being too deeply occupied in
observing everything around her. And she talked

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 89

Still less, only whispering mysteriously to her
mamma once or twice.

" Sunny would like a potato, with butter on
it." " Might Sunny have one little biscuit — just
one ? "

But she troubled nobody, spilt nothing, not
even her glass of water, though it was so big that
with both her fat hands she could scarcely hold
it ; and said " Thank you " politely to a gentle-
man who handed her a piece of bread. In short,
she did keep her promise, conducting herself
throughout the meal with perfect decorum. But
when it was over, I think she was rather glad.

" Sunny may get down now ? " she whispered ;
adding, " Sunny was quite good, she was." For
the little woman always likes to have her virtues
acknowledged.

And in remounting the companion-ladder,
rather a trial for her small legs, she looked at the
steward, who was^ taking his money, and observed
to him, in a confidential tone, " Sunny has had a
good dinner; Sunny liked it," — at which the
young man couldn't help laughing.

But everybody laughs at Sunny, or with her, —
she has such an endless fund of enjoyment in
everything. The world to her is one perpetual
kaleidoscope of ever changing delights.

Immediately after dinner she had a pleasure

90 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

quite new. Playing about the deck, she suddenly
stopped and listened.

" Mamma, hark ! there's music. May Sunny
go after the music ? " And her little feet began
to dance rather than walk, as, pulling her mamma
by the hand, she " went after " a German band
that was playing at the other end of the vessel.

Little Sunshine had never before heard a band,
and this was of wind instruments, played very
well, as most German musicians can play. The
music seemed to quiver all through her, down to
her very toes. And when the dance-tune stopped,
and her dancing feet likewise, and the band struck
up the beautiful " Wacht am Rhein," — the
" Watch on the Rhine," — (oh ! if its singers had
only stopped there, defending their fatherland, and
not invaded the lands of other people !), this little
girl, who knew nothing about French and Prussians,
stood absorbed in solemn delight. Her hands
were folded together (a trick she has), her face
grew grave, and a soul far deeper than three years
old looked out of her intent eyes. For when
Sunny is earnest, she is very earnest ; and when
she turns furious, half a dozen tragedies seem
written in her firm-set mouth, knitted brow, and
flashing eyes.

She was disposed to be furious for a minute,
when her Lizzie tried to get her away from the

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 9 1

music. But her mamma let her stay, so she did
stay close to the musicians, until the playing was
all done.

It was growing late in the afternoon, near her
usual bedtime, but no going to bed was possible.
The steamboat kept ploughing on through lonely
seas, dotted with many islands, larger or smaller,
with high mountains on every side, some of them
sloping down almost to the water's edge. Here
and there was a solitary cottage or farmhouse,
but nothing like a town or village. The steam-
boat seemed to have the whole world to itself, —
sea, sky, mountains, — a magnificent range of
mountains ! behind which the sun set in such
splendour that papa and mamma, watching it to-
gether, quite forgot for the time being the little
person who was not old enough to care for sun-
sets.

When they looked up, catching the sound of
her laughter, there she was, in a state of the high-
est enjoyment, having made friends, all of her
own accord, with two gentlemen on board, who
played with her and petted her extremely. One
of them had just taken out of his pocket a won-
derful bird, which jumped out of a box, shook
itself, warbled a most beautiful tune, and then
popped down in the box again ; not exactly a toy
for a child, as only about half a dozen have ever

92 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

been made, and they generally cost about a hun-
dred guineas apiece.

Of course Sunny was delighted. She listened
intently to the warble, and whenever the bird
popped down and hid itself again, she gave a
scream of ecstasy. But she cannot enjoy things
alone.

" May mamma come and see it ? Mamma
would like to see it, she would ! " And, run-
ning back. Sunny drew her mamma, with all her
little might, over to where the gentlemen were
sitting.

They were very polite to the unknown lady,
and went over the performance once again for her
benefit. And they were exceedingly kind to her
little girl, showing a patience quite wonderful,
unless, indeed, they had little girls of their own.
They tried pertinaciously to find out Sunny's
name, but she as persistently refused to disclose it,
— that is, anything more than her Christian name,
which is rather a peculiar one, and which she
always gives with great dignity and accuracy, at
full length. (Which, should they really have
little girls of their own, and should they buy this
book for them and read it, those two gentlemen
will probably remember ; nor think the worse of
themselves that their kindness helped to while
away what might otherwise have been rather

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 93

dreary, the last hour of the voyage, — a very long
voyage for such a small traveller.)

It was ended at last. The appointed pier, a
solitary place where only one other passenger was
landed, stood out distinct in the last rays of sunset.
Once again the child was carried across one of
those shaky gangways, — neither frightened nor
cross and quite cheerful and wide-awake still.
Nay, she even stopped at the pier-head, her atten-
tion caught by some creatures more weary than
herself.

Half a dozen forlorn sheep, their legs tied
together, and their heads rolling about, with the
most piteous expression in their open eyes, lay
together, waiting to be put on board. The child
went up to them and stroked their faces.

" Poor little baa-lambs, don't be so frightened ;
you won't be frightened, now Sunny has patted
you," said she, in her tenderest voice. And then,
after having walked a few yards :

"Sunny must go back. Please, mamma, may
Sunny go back to say good-bye to those poor little
baa-lambs ? "

But the baa-lambs had already been tossed on
board, and the steamer was away with them into
the dark.

Into the dark poor little Sunny had also to go ; a
drive of nine miles across country, through dusky

94 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

glens, and coming out by loch sides, and under the
shadow of great mountains, above whose tops
the stars were shining. Only the stars, for there
was no moon, and no lamps to the carriage ; and
the driver, when spoken to, explained — in slow
Highland English, and in a mournful manner, evi-
dently not understanding the half of what was said
to him — that there were several miles farther to
go, and several hills to climb yet \ and that the
horse was lame, and the road not as safe as it
might be. A prospect which made the elders of
the party not perfectly happy, as may well be
imagined.

But the child was as merry as possible, though
it was long past her tea-time and she had had no
tea, and past bedtime, yet there was no bed to go
to ; she kept on chattering till it was quite dark,
and then cuddled down, making " a baby " of her
mamma's hand, — a favourite amusement. And
so she lay, the picture of peace, until the carriage
stopped at the welcome door, and there stood a
friendly group with two little boys in front of it.
After eleven hours of travelling, Little Sunshine
had reached a shelter at last !

CHAPTER VI.

Sunrise among the mountains. Who that has
ever seen it can forget it ? Sunny's mamma
never could.

Arriving here after dark, she knew no more of
the place than the child did. But the first thing
she did on waking next morning was to creep
past the sofa where Sunny lay, — oh, so fast
asleep ! having had a good scream over-night, as
was natural after all her fatigues, — steal cau-
tiously to the window, and look out.

Such a sight ! At the foot of a green slope, or
sort of rough lawn, lay the little loch so often
spoken of, upon which Sunny was to go a-fishing
and catch big salmon with Maurice's papa.
Round it was a ring of mountains, so high that
they seemed to shut out half the sky. These
were reflected in the water, so solidly and with
such a sharp, clear outline, that one could hardly
believe it was only a reflection. Above their
summit was one mass of deep rose-colour, and
this also was repeated in the loch, so that you could

g6 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

not tell which was reddest, the water or the sky.
Everything was perfectly still ; not a ripple moved,
not a leaf stirred, not a bird was awake. An
altogether new and magic world.

Sunny was too much of a baby yet to care for
sunrise, or, indeed, for anything just now, except a
good long sleep, so her mamma let her sleep her
fill ; and when she woke at last she was as bright
as a bird.

Long before she was dressed, she heard down-
stairs the voices of the five little boys who were
to be her companions. Their papa and mamma
having no objection to their names being told, I
give them, for they were five very pretty names :
Maurice, Phil, Eddie, Franky, and Austin Thomas.
The latter being the youngest, though by no
means the smallest or thinnest, generally had his
name in full, with variations, such as Austin
Tummas, or Austin Tummacks. Maurice, too,
was occasionally called Maurie, — but not often,
being the eldest, you see.

He was seven, very small for his age, but with
a face almost angelic in its delicate beauty. The
first time Sunny saw him, a It'^N months before,
she had seemed quite fascinated by it, put her two
hands on his shoulders, and finally held up her
mouth to kiss him, — which she seldom does to
any children, rather preferring " grown-ups," as

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 97

she calls them, for playfellows. She had talked
ever since of Maurice, Maurice's papa, Mau-
rice's boat, and especially of Maurice's " little
baby," the only sister of the five boys. Yet
when he came to greet her this morning, she
was quite shv, and would not play with him or
Eddie, or even Frankv, who was nearer her own
age ; and when her mamma lifted up Austin
Thomas, vouno-er than herself but much bigger
in every way, and petted him a little, this poor
little woman fell into great despair.

" Don't kiss him. I don't want you to kiss
Austin Thomas!" she cried, and the passion
which can rise at times in her merry blue eyes
rose now. She clung to her mamma, almost
sobbing.

Of course this was not right, and, as I said be-
fore, the little girl is not a perfect little girl. She
is naughtv at times, like all of us. Still, mamma
was rather sorry for her. It was difficult for an
only child, accustomed to have her mamma all to
herself, to tumble suddenlv into such a crowd of
boys, and see that mamma could be kind to and
fond of other children besides her own, as all
mothers ought to be, without taking away one
atom from the special mother's lo\'e, which no
little people need be jealous over. Sunnv bore the
trial prettv well, on the whole. She did not

98 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

actually cry, — but she kept fast hold of her
mamma's gown, and watched her with anxious
eyes whenever she spoke to any other child, and
especially to Austin Thomas.

The boys were very kind to her. Maurice
went and took hold of her hand, trying to talk to
her in his gentle way ; his manners were as sweet
as his face. Eddie, who was stronger and rougher,
and more boyish, wanted her to go down with
him to the pier, — a small erection of stones at
the shallow edge of the loch, where two or three
boats always lay moored. Consequently the boys
kept tumbling in and out of them, — and in and
out of the water, too^ very often, — all day long.
But the worst they ever could get was a good
wetting, — except Austin Thomas, vP^ho one day
toddled in and slipped down, and, being very fat,
could not pull himself up again ; so that, shallow
as the water was, he was very near being drowned.
But Maurice and Eddie were almost " water
babies," — so thoroughly at home in the loch, —
and Eddie, though under six years old, could
already handle an oar.

" I can low " ( row, — he could not speak plain
yet). "I once lowed grandpapa all across the
loch. Shall I low you and the little girl ? "

But mamma rather hesitated at accepting the
kind offer, and compromised the m.atter by going

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 99

down to the pier with Sunny in her arms, to watch
Eddie " low," — about three yards out and back
again, — in a carefully moored boat. Sunny im-
mediately wanted to go too, and mamma promised
her she should, after breakfast, when papa was
there to take care of her.

So the little party went back to the raised ter-
race in front of the house, where the sun was
shining so bright, and where Phil, who was in
delicate health, stood looking on with his pale,
quiet face, — sadly quiet and grave for such a
child, — and Franky, who was reserved and shy,
stopped a moment in his solitary playing to notice
the newcomer, but did not offer to go near her.
Austin Thomas, however, kept pulling at her with
his stout, chubby arms, but whether he meant
caressing or punching it was difficult to say.
Sunny opposed a dignified resistance, and would
not look at Austin Thomas at all.

" Mamma, I want to stop with you. May
Sunny stop with you?" implored she. "You
said Sunny should go in the boat with you."

Mamma always does what she says, if she pos-
sibly can, and, besides, she felt a sympathy for her
lonely child, who had not been much used to play
with other children. So she kept Sunny beside
her till they went down together — papa too —
for their first row on the loch.

lOO LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Such a splendid day ! Warm but fresh — how
could it help being fresh in that pure mountain
air, which turned Sunny's cheeks the colour of
opening rosebuds, and made even papa and
mamma feel almost as young as she? Big people
like holidays as well as little people, and it was
long since they had had a holiday. This was
the very perfection of one, when everybody did
exactly as they liked ; which consisted chiefly in
doing nothing from morning till night.

Sunny was the only person who objected to
idleness. She must always be doing something.

" I want to catch fishes," said she, after having
sat quiet by mamma's side in the stern of the boat
for about three minutes and a half: certainly not
longer, though it was the first time she had ever
been in a boat in all her life, and the novelty of
her position sufficed to sober her for just that
length of time. " I want to catch big salmon all
by my own self."

A fishing-rod had, just as a matter of ceremony,
been put into the boat ; but as papa held the two
oars, and mamma the child, it was handed over to
Lizzie, who sat in the bow. However, not a
single trout offering to bite, it was laid aside, and
papa's walking-stick used instead. This was
shorter, more convenient, and had a beautiful
hooked handle, which could catch floating leaves.

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LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. IO3

Leaves were much more easily caught than fishes,
and did quite as well.

The little girl had now^her heart's desire. She
was in a boat fishing.

" Sunny has caught a fish ! Such a big fish ! "
cried she, in her shrillest treble of delight, every
time that event happened. And it happened so
often that the bench was soon quite " soppy "
with wet leaves. Then she gave up the rod, and
fished with her hands, mamma holding her as tight
as possible, lest she should overbalance, and be
turned into a fish herself. But water will wet;
and mamma could not save her from getting her
poor little hands all blue and cold, and her sleeves
soaked through. She did not like this ; but what
will not we endure, even at two and three-quarters
old, in pursuit of some great ambition ? It was
not till her hands were numbed, and her pinafore
dripping, that Sunny desisted from her fishing, and
then only because her attention was caught by
something else even more attractive.

" What's that, mamma ? What's that ? "
" Water-lilies."

Papa, busily engaged in watching his little girl,
had let the boat drift upon a shoal of them, which
covered one part of the loch like a floating island.
They were so beautiful, with their leaves lying
like green plates flat on the surface of the water,

I04 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

and their white flowers rising up here and there
like ornamental cups. No wonder the child was
delighted.

" Sunny wants a water-lily," said she, catching
the word, though she had never heard it before.
" iMay Sunny have one, two water-lilies } Two
water-lilies ! Please, mamma .'' "

This was more easily promised than performed,
for, in spite of papa's skill, the boat always man-
aged to glide either too far off, or too close to, or
right on the top of the prettiest flowers ; and
when snatched at, they always would dive down
under water, causing the boat to lurch after them
in a way particularly unpleasant. At last, out of
about a dozen unsuccessful attempts, papa cap-
tured two expanded flowers, and one bud, all with
long stalks. They were laid along the seat of
the boat, which had not capsized, nor had anybody
tum.bled out of it, — a thing that mamma consid-
ered rather lucky, upon the whole, and insisted on
rowing away out of the region of water-lilies.

" Let us go up the canal, then," said papa,
whom his host had already taken there, to show
him a very curious feature of the loch.

Leading out of one end of it, and communi-
cating between it and a stream that fed it from
the neighbouring glen, was a channel, called " the
canal." Unlike most Highland streams, it was

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 105

as still as a canal ; only it was natural, not artifi-
cial. Its depth was so great, that a stick fifteen
feet long failed to find the bottom, which, never-
theless, from the exceeding clearness of the water,
could be seen quite plain, with the fishes swim-
ming about, and the pebbles, stones, or roots of
trees too heavy to float, lying as they had lain,
undisturbed, year after year. The banks, instead
of shallowing off", went sheer down, as deep as
in the middle, so that you could paddle close under
the trees that fringed them, — gnarled old oaks,
queerly twisted rowans or beeches, and nut-trees
with trunks so thick and branches so wide-spread-
ing, that the great-great-grandfathers of the glen
must have gone nutting there generations back.

Yet this year they were as full as ever of nuts,
the gathering of which frightened mamma nearly
as much as the water-lilies. For papa, growing
quite excited, would stand up in the boat and
pluck at the branches, and would not see that
nutting on dry land, and nutting in a boat over
fifteen or twenty feet of water, were two very
difi^erent things. Even the little girl, imitating
her elders, made wild snatches at the branches,
and it was the greatest relief to mamma's mind
when Sunny turned her attention to cracking
her nuts, which her sharp little teeth did to
perfection.

I06 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

" Shall I give you one, mamma ? Papa, too ? "
And she administered them by turns out of her
mouth, which, if not the politest, was the most
convenient way. At last she began singing a
song to herself, " Three little nuts all together !
three little nuts all together ! " Looking into the
little girl's shut hands, mamma found — what
she in all her long life had never found but once
before, and that was many, many years ago —
a triple nut, — a "lucky" nut; as great a rarity
as a four-leaved shamrock.

" Oh, what a prize ! will Sunny give it to
mamma ? " (which she did immediately). " And
mamma will put it carefully by, and keep it
for Sunny till she is grown a big girl."

" Sunny is a big girl now ; Sunny cracks nuts
for papa and mamma."

Nevertheless, mamma kept the triple nut, as
she remembered her own mamma keeping the
former one, when she herself was a little girl.
When Sunny grows a woman, she will find
both.

Besides nuts, there were here and there along
the canal-side long trailing brambles, with such
huge blackberries on them, — blackberries that
seem to take a malicious pleasure in growing
where nobody can get at them. Nobody could
gather them except out of a boat, and then with

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. IO7

difficulty. The best of them had, after all, to be
left to the birds.

Oh, what a place this canal must have been
for birds in spring ! What safe nests might be
built in these overhanging trees ! what ceaseless
songs sung there from morning till night ! Now,
being September, there were almost none. Dead
silence brooded over the sunshiny crags and the
motionless loch. When, far up among the hills,
there was heard the crack of a gun, — Maurice's
papa's gun, for it could of course be no other, —
the sound, echoed several times over, was quite
startling. What had been shot, — a grouse, a
snipe, a wild duck ? Perhaps it was a roe-deer ?
Papa was all curiosity ; but mamma, who dislikes
shooting altogether, either of animals or men, and
cannot endure the sight of a gun, even unloaded,
was satisfied with hearing it at a distance, and
counting its harmless echoes from mountain to
mountain.

What mountains they were ! — standing in a
circle, gray, bare, silent, with their peaks far up
into the sky. Some had been climbed by the
gentlemen in this shooting-lodge or by Donald,
the keeper, but it was hard work, and some had
never been climbed at all. The clouds and mists
floated over them, and sometimes, perhaps, a stray
. grouse, or capercailzie, or ptarmigan, paid them a

I08 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

visit, but that was all. They were too steep and
bare even for the roe-deer. Yet, oh ! how grand
they looked, grand and calm, like great giants, whom
nothing small and earthly could affect at all.

The mountains were too big, as yet, for Little
Sunshine. Her baby eyes did not take them in.
She saw them, of course, but she was evidently
much more interested in the nuts overhead, and
the fishes under water. And when the boat
reached " The Bower," she thought it more
amusing still.

" The Bower," so called, was a curious place,
where the canal grew so narrow, and the trees
so big, that the overarching boughs met in the
middle, forming a natural arbour, — only of water,
not land, — under which the boat swept for a good
many yards. You had to stoop your head to avoid
being caught by the branches, and the ferns and
moss on either bank grew so close to your hand,
that you could snatch at them as you swept by,
which Little Sunshine thought the greatest fun
in the world.

" Mamma, let me do it. Please, let Sunny
do it her own self."

To do a thing "all my own self" is always
a great attraction to this independent little person,
and her mamma allows it whenever possible. Still
there are some things which mamma may do,

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 09

and little people may not, and this was one of
them. It was obliged to be forbidden as danger-
^ ous, and Little Sunshine clouded over almost to
tears. But she never worries her mamma for
things, well aware that "No," means no, and
" Yes," yes ; and that neither are subject to altera-
tion. And the boat being speedily rowed out of
temptation's way into the open loch again, she
soon found another amusement.

On the loch, besides water-fowl, such as wild
ducks, teal, and the like, lived a colony of geese.
They had once been tame geese belonging to the
farm, but they had emigrated, and turned into wild
geese, making their nests wherever they liked,
and bringing up their families in freedom and
seclusion. As to catching them like ordinary
geese, it was hopeless ; whenever wanted for the
table they had to be shot like game. This catas-
trophe had not happened lately, and they swam
merrily about, — a flock of nine large, white,
lively, independent birds, which could be seen
far ofF, sailing about like a fleet of ships on
the quiet waters of the loch. They would allow
you to row within a reasonable distance of them,
just so close and no closer, then ofl^ they flew
in a body, with a great screeching and flapping
of wings, — geese, even wild geese, being rather
unwieldy birds.

no LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Their chief haunt was a tiny island just at the
mouth of the canal, and there papa rowed, just to
have a look at them, for one was to be shot for
the Michaelmas dinner. (It never was, by the
by, and, for all I know, still sails cheerfully upon
its native loch.)

"Oh, the ducks — the ducks!'* (Sunny calls
all water-birds ducks.) She clapped her hands,
and away they flew, right over her head, at once
frightening and delighting her; then watched them
longingly until they dropped down again, and set-
tled in the farthest corner of the loch.

" Might Sunny go after them ? Might Sunny
have a dear little duck to play with ? "

The hopelessness of which desire might have
made her turn melancholy again, only just then
appeared, rowing with great energy, bristling with
tishing-rods, and crowded with little people as
well as " grown-ups," the big boat. It was so
busy that it hardly condescended to notice the
little pleasure-boat, with only idle people, sailing
about in the sunshine, and doing nothing more
useful than catching water-lilies and frightening
geese.

Still the little boat greeted the large one with
an impertinent hail of " Ship ahoy ! what ship's
that ? " and took in a cargo of small boys, who,
as it was past one o'clock, were wanted home to

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. Ill

the nursery dinner. And papa rowed the whole
lot of them back to the pier, where everybody
was safely landed. Nobody tumbled in, and no-
body was drowned, — which mamma thought, on
the whole, was a great deal to be thankful for.

CHAPTER VII.

Life at the glen went on every day alike, in
the simplest, happiest fashion, a sort of paradise
of children, as in truth it was. Even the elders
lived like children ; and big people and little people
were together, more or less, all day long. A thing
not at all objectionable when the children are
good children, as these were.

The boys were noisy, of course, and, after the
first hour of the morning, clean faces, hands, and
clothes became a difficulty quite insurmountable,
in which their mother had to resign herself to
fate ; as the mamma of five boys, running about
wild in the Highlands, necessarily must. But
these were good, obedient, gentlemanly little fel-
lows, and, had it been possible to keep them clean
and whole, which it wasn't, very pretty little fel-
lows, too.

Of course they had a few boyish propensities,
which increased the difficulty. Maurice, for in-
stance, had an extraordinary love for all creeping
things, and especially worms. On the slightest

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. II3

pretence of getting bait to fish with, he would go
digging for them, and stufF them into his pockets,
whence, if you met him, you were as likely as not
to see one or two crawling out. If you remon-
strated, he looked unhappy, for Maurice really
loved his worms. He cherished them carefully,
and did not in the least mind their crawling over
his hands, his dress, or his plate. Only, unfortu-
nately, other people did. When scolded, he put
his pets meekly aside, but always returned to them
with the same love as ever. Perhaps Maurice
may turn out a great naturalist some day.

The one idea of Eddie's life was boats. He
was for ever at the little pier waiting a chance of
a row, and always wanting to " low " somebody,
especially with " two oars," which he handled
uncommonly well for so small a child. Fortu-
nately for him, though not for his papa and the
salmon-fishers, the weather was dead calm, so
that it was like paddling on a duck-pond ; and the
loch being shallow just at the pier, except a {^vf
good wettings, which he seemed to mind as little
as if he were a frog, bright, brave, adventurous
Eddie came to no harm.

Nor Franky, who imitated him admiringly
whenever he could. But Franky, who was rather
a reserved little man, and given to playing alone,
had, besides the pier, another favourite play-place,

114 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

a. hollow cut out in the rock to receive the burn
which leaped down from the hillside just behind
the house. Being close to the kitchen door, it
was put to all sorts of domestic uses, being gener-
ally full of pots and pans, saucepans and kettles,
— not the most advisable playthings, but Franky
found them charming. He also unluckily found
out something else, — that the hollow basin had
an outlet, through which any substance, sent
swimming down the swift stream, swam away
beautifully for several yards, and then disappeared
underground. And the other end of this subter-
raneous channel being in the loch, of course it
disappeared for ever. In this way there vanished
mysteriously all sorts of things, — cups and saucers,
toys, pinafores, hats ; which last Franky was dis-
covered in the act of making away with, watching
them floating off with extreme delight. It was
no moral crime, and hardly punishable, but highly
inconvenient. Sunny's beloved luggie, which had
been carried about with her for weeks, was be-
lieved to have disappeared in this way, and, as it
could not sink, is probably now drifting some-
where about on the loch, to the great perplexity
of the fishes.

Little Phil, alas ! was too delicate to be mis-
chievous. He crept about in the sunshine, not
playing with anybody, but just looking on at the

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. II5

rest, with his pale, sweet, pensive face. He was
very patient and good, and he suffered very much.
One day, hearing his uncle at family prayers pray
that God would make him better, he said, sadly,
" If He does, I wish He would make haste about
it." Which was the only complaint gentle, pa-
thetic little Phil was ever heard to utter.

Sunny regarded him with some awe, as " the
poor little boy who was so ill." For herself, she
has never yet known what illness is ; but she is
very sympathetic over it in others. Anybody's
being " not well " will at once make her tender
and gentle ; as she always was to Phil. He in
his turn was very kind to her, lending her his
" music," which was the greatest favour he could
bestow or she receive.

This " music " was a box of infantile instru-
ments, one for each boy, — trumpet, drum, fife,
etc., making a complete band, which a rash-minded
but affectionate aunt had sent them, and with
which they marched about all day long, to their
own great delight and the corresponding despair
of their elders. Phil, who had an ear, would go
away quietly with his "music," — a trumpet, I
think it was, — and play it all by himself. But
the others simply marched about in procession,
each making the biggest noise he could, and
watched by Sunny with admiration and envy.

Il6 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Now and then, out of great benevolence, one of
the boys would lend her his instrument, and no-
body did this so often as Phil, though of them all
he liked playing his music the best. The picture
of him sitting on the door-step, with his pale
fingers wandering over his instrument, and his
sickly face looking almost contented as he listened
to the sound, will long remain in everybody's
mind. Sunny never objected to her mamma's
carrying him, as he often had to be carried ;
though he was fully six years old. He was
scarcely heavier than the little girl herself. Aus-
tin Thomas would have made two of him.

Austin's chief peculiarity was this amiable fat-
ness. He tumbled about like a roly-poly pudding,
amusing everybody, and offending no one but
Little Sunshine. But his persistent pursuit of her
mamma, whom he insisted on calling " Dan-
mamma " ( grandmamma ), and following when-
ever he saw her, was more than the little girl
could bear, and she used to knit her brows and
look displeased. However, mamma never took
any notice, knowing what a misery to itself and
all about it is a jealous child.

Amidst these various amusements passed the
day. It began at 8 a.m., when Sunshine and her
mamma usually appeared on the terrace in front
of the house. They two were " early birds," and

LITTLE SUNSHINE 'S HOLIDA Y. I 1 7

SO they got " the worm," — that is, a charming
preliminary breakfast of milk, bread and butter,
and an egg, which they usually ate on the door-
step. Sometimes the rest, who had had their
porridge, the usual breakfast of Scotch children,
— and very nice it is, too, — gathered around
for a share ; which it was pleasant to give them,
for they waited so quietly, and were never rough
or rude.

Nevertheless, sometimes difficulties arose. The
tray being placed on the gravel, Maurice often sat
beside it, and his worms would crawl out of his
pocket and on to the bread and butter. Then
Eddie now and then spilt the milk, and Austin
Thomas would fill the saltcellar with sand out
of the gravel walk, and stir it all up together with
the egg-spoon \ a piece of untidiness which Little
Sunshine resented extremely.

She had never grown reconciled to Austin
Thomas. In spite of his burly good-nature, and
his broad beaming countenance ( which earned him
the nickname of " Cheshire," from his supposed
likeness to the Cheshire Cat in " Alice's Adven-
tures " ), she refused to play with him ; whenever
he appeared, her eye followed him with distrust
and suspicion, and when he said " Danmamma,"
she would contradict him indignantly.

" It isn't grandmamma, it's my mamma, my own

Ii8

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

mamma. Go away, naughty boy ! " If he pre-
sumed to touch the said mamma, it was always,
" Take me up in your arms, in your own arms," —
so as to prevent all possibility of Austin Thomas's
getting there.

But one unlucky day Austin tumbled down,
and, though more frightened than hurt, cried so

much that, his own mamma being away, Sunny's
mamma took him and comforted him, soothing
him on her shoulder till he ceased sobbing. This
was more than human nature could bear. Sunny
did nothing at the time, except pull frantically at
her mamma's gown, but shortly afterward she
and Austin Thomas were found by themselves,
engaged in single combat on the gravel walk.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 19

She had seized him by the collar of his frock, and
was kicking him with all her might, while he on
his part was pommelling at her with both his little
fat fists, like an infant prize-fighter. It was a
pitched battle, pretty equal on both sides ; and
conducted so silently, in such dead earnest, that it
would have been quite funny, — if it had not been
so very wrong.

Of course such things could not be allowed,
even in babies under three years old. Sunny's
mamma ran to the spot and separated the combat-
ants by carrying ofF her own child right away into
the house. Sunny was so astonished that she did
not say a word. And when she found that her
mamma never said a word either, but bore her
along in total silence, she was still more surprised.
Her bewilderment was at its height, when, shutting
the bedroom door, her mamma set her down, and
gave her — not a whipping : she objects to whip-
pings under any circumstances — but the severest
scolding the child had ever had in her life.

When I say " scolding," I mean a grave, sor-
rowful rebuke, showing how wicked it was to
kick anybody, and how it grieved mamma that her
good little girl should be so exceedingly naughtv.
Mamma grieved is a reproach under which little
Sunny breaks down at once. Her lips began to
quiver ; she hung her head sorrowfully.

I20 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

" Sunny had better go into the cupboard,"
suggested she.

"Yes, indeed," mamma replied. "I think the
cupboard is the only place for such a naughty
little girl ; go in at once."

So poor Sunshine crept solemnly into a large
press with sliding doors, used for hanging up
clothes, and there remained in silence and dark-
ness all the while her mamma was dressing to
go out. At last she put her head through the
opening.

" Sunny quite good now, mamma."

" Very well," said mamma, keeping with dif-
ficulty a grave countenance. " But will Sunny
promise never to kick Austin Thomas again ? "

" Yes."

" Then she may come out of the cupboard, and
kiss mamma."

Which she did, with a beaming face, as if
nothing at all had happened. But she did not
forget her naughtiness. Some days after, she
came up, and confidentially informed her mamma,
as if it were an act of great virtue, " Mamma,
Sunny 'membered her promise. Sunny hasn't
kicked the little bov again."

After the eight o'clock breakfast. Sunny, her
mamma, and the five little boys generally took
a walk together, or sat telling stories in front

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 12 1

of the house, till the ten o'clock breakfast of the
elders. That over, the party dispersed their several
ways, wandering about by land or water, and
meeting occasionally, great folks and small, in
boats, or by hillsides, or indoors at the children's
one o'clock dinner, — almost the only time, till
night, that anybody ever was indoors.

Besides most beautiful walks for the elders,
there were, close by the house, endless play-
places for the children, each more attractive
than the other. The pier on the loch was the
great delight ; but there was, about a hundred yards
from the house, a burn (in fact, burns were always
tumbling from the hillside, wherever you went),
with a tiny bridge across it, which was a charming
spot for little people. There usually assembled
a whole parliament of ducks, and hens, and
chickens, quacking and clucking and gobbling
together, to their own great content and that
of the children, especially the younger ones.
Thither came Austin Thomas with his nurse
Grissel, a thorough Scotch lassie ; and Sunny with
her English Lizzie ; and there the baby, the pet
of all, tiny " Miss Mary," a soft, dainty, cuddling
thing of six months old, used to be brought to
lie and sleep in the sunshine, watched by Little
Sunshine with never-ending interest. She would
go anywhere with "the dear little baby.'* The

122 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

very intonation of her voice, and the expression
of her eyes, changed as she looked at it, — for
this little girl is passionately fond of babies.

Farther down the mountain-road was another
attractive corner, a stone dike, covered with in-
numerable blackberries. Though gathered daily,
there were each morning more to gather, and they
furnished an endless feast for both nurses and
children. And really, in this sharp mountain
air, the hungriness of both big and little people
must have been alarming. How the house-mother
ever fed her household, with the only butcher's
shop ten miles ofF, was miraculous. For very
often the usual resort of shooting-lodges entirely
failed ; the game was scarce, and hardly worth
shooting, and in this weather the salmon abso-
lutely refused to be caught. Now and then a
mournful-looking sheep was led up to the door,
and offered for sale alive, to be consumed gradually
as mutton. But when you have to eat an animal
right through, you generally get a little tired of
him at last.

The food that never failed, and nobody ever
wearied of, was the trout ; large dishes of which
appeared, and disappeared, every morning at break-
fast. A patient guest, who could not go shooting,
used to sit fishing for trout, hour by hour, in the
cheerfullest manner ; thankful for small blessings

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 23

(of a pound or a pound and a half at most), and
always hoping for the big salmon which he had
travelled three hundred miles to fish for, but
which never came. Each day, poor gentleman !
he watched the dazzlingly bright sky, and, catching
the merest shadow of a cloud, would say coura-
geously, "It looks like rain ! Perhaps the salmon
may bite to-morrow."

Of afternoons. Sunny and her mamma generally
got a little walk and talk alone together along the
hillside road, noticing everything, and especially
the Highland cattle, who went about in family
parties, — the big bull, a splendid animal, black
or tawny, looking very fierce, but really offering
no harm to anybody ; half a dozen cows, and
about twice that number of calves. Such funny
little things these were ! not smooth, like English
calves, but with quantities of shaggy hair hanging
about them, and especially over their eyes. Papa
used to say that his little girl, with her incessant
activity, and her yellow curls tossing wildly
about on her forehead, was very like a Highland
calf.

At first. Sunny was rather afraid of these
extraordinary beasts, so different from Southern
cattle ; but she soon got used to them, and as
even the big bull did nothing worse than look
at her, and pass her by, -she would stand and

124 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

watch them feeding with great interest, and go
as close to them as ever she was allowed. Once
she even begged for a little calf to play with,
but as it ran away up the mountainside as active
as a deer, this wa^ not practicable. And on the
whole she liked the ducks and chickens best.

And for a change she liked to walk with
mamma around the old-fashioned garden. What
a beautiful garden it was ! — shut in with high
walls, and sloping southward down to the loch.
No doubt many a Highland dame, generations
back, had taken great pleasure in it, for its fruit-
trees were centuries old, and the box edging of
its straight, smooth gravel walks was a picture
in itself. Also a fuchsia hedge, thick with crim-
son blossoms, which this little girl, who is pas-
sionately fond of flowers, could never pass without
begging for " a posie, to stick in my little bosie,"
where it was kissed and " loved " until, generally
soon enough, it got broken and died.

Equally diflicult was it to pass the apples
which lay strewn about under the long lines
of espaliers, where Maurice and Eddie were
often seen hovering about with an apple in
each hand, and plenty more in each pocket.
The Highland air seemed to give them unlimited
digestion, but Sunny's mamma had occasionally
to say to her little gijl that quiet denial, which

Little sunshine's holiday. 125

caused a minute's sobbing, and then, known to
be inevitable, was submitted to.

The child found it hard sometimes that lit-
tle girls might not do all that little boys may.
For instance, between the terrace and the pier
was a wooden staircase with a hand-rail ; both
rather old and rickety. About this hand-rail the
boys were for ever playing, climbing up it and
sliding down it. Sunny wanted to do the same,
and one day her mamma caught her perched
astride at the top, and preparing to " slidder "
down to the bottom, in imitation of Eddie, who
was urging her on with all his might. This most
dangerous proceeding for little girls with frocks
had to be stopped at once ; mamma explaining
the reason, and insisting that Sunny must promise
never to do it again. Poor little woman, she was
very sad ; but she did promise, and, moreover, she
kept her word. Several times mamma saw her
stand watching the boys with a mournful coun-
tenance, but she never got astride on the hand-
rail again. Only once, a sudden consolation
occurred to her.

" Mamma, 'posing Sunny were some day to
grow into a little boy, then she might slide down
the ladder ? "

" Certainly, yes ! " answered mamma, with
great gravity, and equal sincerity. In the mean-

126 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

time she perfectly trusted her reliable child, who
never does anything behind her back any more
than before her face. And she let her clamber
about as much as was practicable, up and down
rocks, and over stone dikes, and in and out of
burns, since, within certain limitations, little
girls should be as active as little boys. And by
degrees. Sunny, a strong, healthy, energetic child,
began to follow the boys about everywhere.

There was a byre and a hay-house, where
the children were very fond of playing, climbing
up a ladder and crawling along the roof to the
ridge-tiles, along which Eddie would drag himself,
astraddle, from end to end, throwing Sunny into
an ecstasy of admiration. To climb up to the
top of a short ladder and be held there, whence
she could watch Eddie crawl like a cat from end
to end of the byre, and wait till he slid down
the tiles again, was a felicity for which she would
even sacrifice the company of " the dear little
baby."

But, after all, the pier was the great resort.
From early morning till dark, two or three of
the children were always to be seen there, pad-
dling in the shallows like ducks, with or without
shoes and stockings, assisting at every embark-
ation or landing of the elders, and generally, by
force of entreaties, getting — Eddie especially —

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 12/

" a low " on their own account several times a
day. Even Sunny gradually came to find such
fascination in the water, and in Eddie's company,
that if her mamma had not kept a sharp lookout
after her, and given strict orders that, without
herself. Sunny was never under any pretext to go
on the loch at all, the two children, both utterly
fearless, would certainly have been discovered
sailing away like the wise men of Gotham who
" went to sea in a bowl." Probably with the
same ending to their career; that

*' If the bowl had been stronger,
My song would have been longer ! "

After Little Sunshine's holiday was done, mamma,
thinking over the countless risks run, by her
own child and these other children, felt thank-
ful that they had all left this beautiful glen
alive.

CHAPTER VIII.

The days sped so fast with these happy people,
children and " grown-ups,"' as Sunny calls them,
that soon it was already Sunday, the first of the
only two Sundays they had to spend at the glen.
Shall I tell about them both ?

These parents considered Sunday the best day
in all the week, and tried to make it so ; especially
to the children, whom, in order to give the ser-
vants rest, they then took principally into their
own hands. They wished that, when the little
folks grew up, Sunday should always be remem-
bered as a bright day, a cheerful dav, a dav spent
with papa and mamma ; when nobodv had any
work to do, and everybody was merry, and happy,
and good. Also clean, which was a novelty here.
Even the elders rather enjoyed putting on their
best clothes with the certainty of not getting
them wetted in fishing-boats, or torn with briers
and brambles on hillsides. Church was not till
twelve at noon, so most of the party went a leis-
urely morning stroll, and Sunny's papa and mamma

1 28

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 129

decided to have a quiet row on the loch, in a clean
boat, all by their two selves. But, as it happened,
their little girl, taking a walk with her Lizzie,'
espied them afar off.

Faintly across the water came the pitiful en-
treaty, " Papa ! mamma ! Take her. Take her
with you." And the little figure, running as fast
as her fat legs would carry her, was seen making
Its way, with Lizzie running after, to the very
edge of the loch.

What heart would not have relented? Papa
rowed back as fast as he could, and took her in,
her face quivering with delight, though the big
tears were still rolling down her cheeks. But
April showers do not dry up faster than Sunny's
tears.

No fishing to-day, of course. Peacefully they
floated down the loch, which seemed to know it
was Sunday, and to lie, with the hills standing
around it, more restful, more sunshiny, more beau-
tiful than ever. Not a creature was stirring;
even the cattle, that always clustered on a little'
knoli above the canal, made motionless pictures
of themselves against the sky, as if they were
sitting or standing for their portraits, and would
not move upon any account. Now and then, as
the boat passed, a bird in the bushes fluttered, but
not very far ofl^, and then sat on a bough and

I30 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

looked at it, too fearless of harm to fly away.
Everything was so intensely still, so unspeakably
beautiful, that when mamma, sitting in the stern,
with her arm fast around her child, began to sing
"Jerusalem the Golden," and afterward that
other beautiful hymn, " There is a land of pure
delight," the scene around appeared like an earthly
picture of that Celestial Land.

They rowed homeward just in time to dress for
church, and start, leaving the little girl behind.
She was to follow, by and by, with her Lizzie, and
be taken charge of by mamma while Lizzie went
to the English service in the afternoon.

This was the morning service, and in Gaelic.
With an English prayer-book it was just possible
to follow it and guess at it, though the words
were unintelligible. But they sounded very sweet,
and so did the hymns ; and the small congregation
listened as gravely and reverently as if it had
been the grandest church in the world, instead of
a tiny room, no bigger than an ordinary sitting-
room, with a communion-table of plain deal, and
a few rows of deal benches, enough to seat about
twenty people, there being about fifteen present
to-day. Some of them had walked several miles, as
they did every Sunday, and often, their good clergy-
man said, when the glen was knee-deep in snow.

He himself spent his quiet days among them.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I31

winter and summer, living at a farmhouse near,
and scarcely ever quitting his charge. A lonelier
life, especially in winter-time, it was hardly possible
to imagine. Yet he looked quite contented, and
so did the little congregation as they listened to
the short Gaelic sermon (which, of course, was
incomprehensible to the strangers), then slowly
went out of church and stood hanging about on
the dike-side in the sunshine, till the second
service should begin.

Very soon a few more groups were seen advanc-
ing toward church. There was Maurice, prayer-
book in hand, looking so good and gentle and
sweet, almost like a cherub in a picture ; and
Eddie, not at all cherubic, but entirely boyish,
walking sedately beside his papa ; Eddie clean and
tidy, as if he had never torn his clothes or dirtied
his face in all his life. Then came the children's
parents, papa and mamma and their guests, and
the servants of the house following. While far
behind, holding cautiously by her Lizzie's hand and
rather alarmed at her new position, was a certain
little person, who, as soon as she saw her own papa
and mamma, rushed frantically forward to meet
them, with a cry of irrepressible joy.

"Sunny wants to go to church ! Sunny would
like to go to church with the little boys, and
Lizzie says she mustn't."

132 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Lizzie was quite right, mamma explained ;
afraid that so small a child might only interrupt
the worship, which she could not possibly under-
stand. But she compromised the matter by prom-
ising that Sunny should go to church as soon as
ever she was old enough, and to-day she should
stay with mamma out in the sunshiny road, and
hear the singing from outside.

Staying with mamma being always sufficient
felicity, she consented to part with the little boys,
and they passed on into church.

By this time the post, which always came in
between the services on Sundays, appeared, and
the postmaster, who was also schoolmaster and
beadle at the church, — as the school, the church,
and the post-office were all one building, — began
arranging and distributing the contents of the
bag.

Everybody sat down by the roadside and read
their letters. Those who had no letters opened
the newspapers, — those cruel newspapers, full of
the war. It was dreadful to read them, in this
lovely spot, on this calm September Sunday, with
the good pastor and his innocent flock preparing
to begin the worship of Him who commanded
" Love your enemies ; bless them that curse you, do
good to them that hate you, and pray for them
that despitefully use you and persecute you."

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 33

Oh, what a mockery " church " seemed ! You
little children can never understand the pain of
it ; but you will when you are grown up. May
God grant that in your time you may never suffer
as we have done, but that His mercy may then
have brought permanent peace ; beating " swords
into ploughshares, and spears into pruning-hooks,"
for ever and ever throughout the world !

Sunny's mamma prayed so with all her heart,
when, the newspaper laid down, she sat on a stone
outside the church, with her child playing beside
her; far enough not to disturb the congregation,
but near enough to catch a good deal of the ser-
vice, which was the English Episcopal service;
there being few Presbyterians in this district of
Scotland, and not a Presbyterian church within
several miles.

Presently a harmonium began to sound, and a
small choir of voices, singing not badly, began the
Magnificat. It was the first time in her life that
the little girl had heard choral music, — several
people singing all together. She pricked up her
ears at once, with the expression of intense delight
that all kinds of music bring into her little face.

" Mamma, is that church ? Is that my papa
singing ? '*

Mamma did not think it was, but it mie;ht be
Maurice's papa, and his mamma, and Lizzie, and

134 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

several other people; Sunny must listen and be
quite quiet, so as not to disturb them.

So she did, good little girl ! sitting as mute as a
mouse all the while the music lasted, and when it
ceased, playing about, still quietly ; building pebble
mountains, and gathering a few withered leaves to
stick on the top of them. For she and her
mamma were sitting on the gravel walk of the
schoolmaster's garden, beside a row of flower-
pots, still radiant with geraniums and fuchsias.
They were so close to the open window under
which stood the pulpit, that mamma was able to
hear almost every word of the sermon, — and a
very good sermon it was.

When it ended, the friendly little congregation
shook hands and talked a little ; then separated,
half going up and the other half down the road.
The minister came home to dinner, walking
between Maurice and Eddie, of whom he was a
particular friend. They alwavs looked forward to
this weekly visit of his as one of the Sunday enjoy-
ments, for he was an admirable hand at an oar, and
Eddie, who tyrannised over him in the most affec-
tionate wav, was quite sure of " a low " when the
minister was there.

So, after dinner, all went out together, parents
and children, pastor and flock, in two boats, and
rowed peacefully up and down the loch, which

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 35

had fallen into the cool gray shadow of evening,
with the most gorgeous sunset light, resting on
the mountains opposite, and gradually fading away,
higher and higher, till the topmost peaks alone
kept the glow. But that they did to the very
last; like a good man who, living continually
in the smile of God, lives cheerfully on to the
end.

Sunny and her mamma watched the others, but
did not go out, it being near the child's bedtime ;
and unless it is quite unavoidable, nobody ever
puts Sunny to bed, or hears her say her little
prayers, except her own mamma. She went to
sleep quite happily, having now almost forgotten
to ask for Tommy Tinker, or any other story.
The continual excitement of her life here left
her so sleepy that the minute she had her little
nightgown on, she was ready to shut her eyes,
and go off into what mamma calls " the land
of Nod."

And so ended, for her, the first Sunday in the
glen, which, in its cheerful, holy peace, was a day
long to be remembered. But the little boys,
Maurice and Eddie, who did not go to bed so
early, after the loch grew dark, and the rowing
was all done, spent a good long evening in the
drawing-room, climbing on the minister's knees,
and talking to him about boats and salmon, and

136 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

all sorts of curious things : he was so very kind
to little children. And after the boys were gone
to bed, he and the elder folk gathered around the
not unwelcome fire, and talked too. This good
minister, who spent his life in the lonely glen,
with very little money, — so little that rich South-
ern people would hardly believe an educated
clergyman could live upon it at all, — and almost
no society, except that of the few cottagers and
farmers scattered thinly up and down, yet kept
his heart up, and was cheerful and kindly, ready
to help old and young, rich and poor, and never
complaining of his dull life, or anything else —
this gentleman, I say, was a pattern to both great
folk and small.

The one only subject of discontent in the
house, if anybody could feel discontent in such
a pleasant place and amid such happy circum-
stances, was the continued fine weather. While
the sky remained unclouded, and the loch as
smooth as glass, no salmon would bite. They
kept jumping up in the liveliest and most provok-
ing way ; sometimes you could see their heads
and shoulders clean out of water, and of course
they looked bigger than any salmon ever seen
before. Vainly did the master of the house and
his guests go after them whenever there was
the least cloud on the sky, and coax them to

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 3/

bite with the most fascinating flies and most
alluring hooks j they refused to take the slightest
notice of either. Only trout, and they not big
ones, ever allowed themselves to be caught.

The children and mammas, delighting in the
warm sunshiny weather, did not grieve much,
but the gentlemen became quite low in their
spirits, and at last, for their sakes, and especially
for the sake of that one who only cared for fishing,
and had come so far to fish, the whole household
began to watch the sky, and with great self-sacri-
fice to long for a day — a whole day — of good,
settled, pelting rain.

And on the Monday following this bright
Sunday, it seemed likely. The morning was
rather dull, the sunshiny haze which hung over
the mountains melted away, and they stood out
sharp and dark and clear. Toward noon, the
sky clouded over a little, — a very little ! Hope-
fully the elders sat down to their four o'clock
dinner, and by the time it was over a joyful cry
arose :

" It's raining ! it's raining ! "

Everybody started up in the greatest delight.
" Now we shall have a chance of a salmon ! "
cried the gentlemen, afraid to hope too much.
Nevertheless, they hastily put on their great-
coats, and rushed down to the pier, armed with a

138 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

rod apiece, and with Donald, the keeper, to row
them ; because, if they did hook a salmon, Eddie
explained, they would want somebody to " low "
the boat, and follow the fish wherever he went.
Eddie looked very unhappy that he himself had
not this duty, of which he evidently thought
he was capable. But when his father told him
he could not go, he obeyed, as he always did.
He was very fond of his father.

The three boys, Maurice, Eddie, and Franky,
— Phil, alas ! was too ill to be much excited,
even over salmon-fishing, — resigned themselves
to fate, and made the best of things by climbing
on the drawing-room table, which stood in front
of the window, and thence watching the boat
as it moved slowly up and down the gray loch,
with the four motionless figures sitting in it, —
sitting contentedly soaking. The little boys,
Eddie especially, would willingly have sat and
soaked too, if allowed.

At length, as some slight consolation, and
to prevent Eddie's dangling his legs out at the
open window, letting in the wind and the rain,
and running imminent risk of tumbling out,
twenty feet or so, down to the terrace below,
Sunny's mamma brought a book of German
pictures, and proposed telling stories out of
them.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 39

They were very funny pictures, and have
been Little Sunshine's delight for many months.
So she, as the owner, displayed them proudly
to the rest, and it having been arranged with
some difficulty how six pairs of eyes could look
over the same book, the party arranged them-
selves thus : Sunny's mamma sat on the hearth-
rug, with her own child on her lap, Austin
Thomas on one side, and Phil on the other \
while Maurice, Eddie, and Franky managed as
well as they could to look over her shoulders.
There was a general sense of smothering and
huddling up, like a sparrow's nest when the
young ones are growing a little too big, but
everybody appeared happy. Now and then. Sun-
shine knitted her brows fiercely, as she can knit
them on occasion, when Austin Thomas came
crawling too close upon her mamma's lap, with
his intrusively affectionate " Danmamma," but
no open quarrel broke out. The room was so
cosy and bright with firelight, and everybody
was so comfortable, that they had almost for-
gotten the rain outside, also the salmon-fishing,
when the door suddenly opened, and in burst the
cook.

Mary was a kind, warm-hearted Highland
woman, always ready to do anything for anybody,
and particularly devoted to the children. Gaelic

I40 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

was easier to her than English always, but now
she was so excited that she could hardly get out
her words.

" Master's hooked a salmon ! He's been cry-
ing " (calling) " on Neil to get out another boat
and come to him. It must be a very big salmon,
for he is playing him up and down the loch.
They've been at it these ten minutes and more."

Mary's excitement affected the mistress, who
laid down her baby. " Where are they ? Has
anybody seen them ? "

" Anybody, ma'am ? Why, everybody's down
at the shore looking at them. The minister, too j
he was passing, and stopped to see."

As a matter of course, cook evidently thought.
Even a minister could not pass by such an inter-
esting sight. Nor did she seem in the least sur-
prised when the mistress sent for her water-proof
cloak, and, drawing the hood over her head, went
deliberately out into the pelting rain, Maurice and
Franky following. As for Eddie, at the first
mention of salmon, he had been off like a shot,
and was now seen standing on the very edge
of the pier, gesticulating with all his might for
somebody to take him into a boat. Alas ! in vain.

Never was there such an all-absorbing salmon.
As Mary had said, the whole household was out
watching him and his proceedings. The baby.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I4I

Austin Thomas, Sunny, and Sunny's mamma
were left alone, to take care of one another.

These settled down again in front of the fire,
and Sunny, who had been a little bewildered by
the confusion, recovered herself, and, not at all
alive to the importance of salmon-fishing, resumed
her entreating whisper :

"'Bout German pictures, mamma; tell me
'bout German pictures."

And she seemed quite glad to go back to her
old ways ; for this little girl likes nothing better
than snuggling into her mamma's lap, on the
hearth-rug, and being told about German pictures.

They came to her all the wav from Germany
as a present from a kind German friend, and
some of them are very funny. They make regu-
lar stories, a story on each page. One is about
a little greedy boy, so like a pig, that at last, being
caught with a sweetmeat by an old witch, she
turns him into a pig in realitv. He is put into
a sty, and just about to be killed, when his sister
comes in to save him with a fairy rose in her
hand ; the witch falls back, stuck through with
her own carving-knife, and poor piggv-wiggy,
touched by the magic rose, turns into a little
boy again. Then there is another page, " 'bout
efFelants," as Sunny calls them, — a papa elephant
and a baby elephant taking a walk together.

142 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

They come across the first Indian railway, and
the papa elephant, who has never seen a tele-
graph wire before, is very angry at it and pulls
it down with his trunk. Then there comes
whizzing past a railway-train, which makes him
still more indignant, as he does not understand
it at all. He talks very seriously on the subject
to his little son, who listens with a respectful
air. Then, determined to put an end to such
nuisances, this wise papa elephant marches right
in front of the next train that passes. He does
not stop it, of course, but it stops him, cutting
him up into little pieces, and throwing him on
either side the line. At which the little elephant
is so frightened that you see him taking to his
heels, very solid heels too, and running right
away.

Sunny heard this story for the hundredth time,
delighted as ever, and then tried to point out to
Austin Thomas which was the papa " efFelant,"
and which the baby " efPelant." But Austin
Thomas's more infantile capacity did not take it
in ; he only " scrumpled " the pages with his fat
hands, and laughed. There might soon have
been an open war if mamma had not soothed her
little girl's wounded feelings by the great felicity
of taking off her shoes and stockings, and letting
her warm her little feet by the fire, while she lay

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 43

back on her mamma's lap, sucking her Maymie's
apron.

The whole group were in this state of perfect
peace, outside it had grown dark, and mamma
had stirred the fire and promised to begin a quite
new story, when the door again opened and Eddie
rushed in. Maurice and Franky followed, wet,
of course, to the skin, — for each left a little pool
of water behind him wherever he stood, — but
speechless with excitement. Shortly after, up
came the three gentlemen, likewise silent, but not
from excitement at all.

" But where's the salmon ? " asked Sunny's
mamma. " Pray let us see the salmon."

iMaurice's papa looked as solemn as — what
shall I say ? — the renowned BufF, when he

" Strokes his face with a sorrowful grace,
And delivers his staff to the next place."

He delivered his — no, it was not a stick, but a
"tommy" hat, all ornamented with fishing-flies,
and dripping with rain, to anybody that would
hang it up, and sank into a chair, saying, mourn-
fully :

" You can't see the salmon."

" Why not ? "

" Because he's at the bottom of the loch. He
got away."

144 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

" Got away ! "

" Yes, after giving us a run of a full hour."

" An hour and five minutes by my watch," added
Sunny's papa, who looked as dejected as the other
two. Though no salmon-fisher, he had been so
excited by the sport that he had sat drenched
through and through, in the stern of the boat,
and afterward declared " he didn't know it had
rained."

"Such a splendid fish he was, — twenty-five
pounds at least."

" Twenty," suggested some one, who was put
down at once with scorn.

" Twenty-five, I am certain, for he rose several
times, and I saw him plain. So did Donald. Oh,
what a fish he was ! And he bit upon a trout-
line ! To think that we should have had that
one trout-line with us, and he chose it. It could
hardly hold him, of course. He required the
tenderest management. We gave him every
chance." (Of being killed, poor fish !) " The
minute he was hooked, I threw the oars to Don-
ald, who pulled beautifully, humouring him up and
down, and you should have seen the dashes he
made ! He was so strong, — such a big fish ! "

" Such a big fish ! " echoed Eddie, who stood
listening with open mouth and eyes that gradually
became as melancholy as his father's.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 45

" And, as I said, we played him for an hour
and five minutes. He was getting quite ex-
hausted, and I had just called to Neil to row
close and put the gaff under him, when he came
up to the surface, — I declare, just as if he
wanted to have a stare at me, — then made a
sudden dart, right under the boat. No line could
stand that, a trout-line especially."

" So he got away ? "

" Of course he did, with my hook in his mouth,
the villain ! I dare say he has it there still."

It did occur to Sunny's mamma that the fish
was fully as uncomfortable as the fisherman, but
she durst not suggest this for the world. Evi-
dently, the salmon had conducted himself in a
most unwarrantable manner, and was worthy of
universal condemnation.

Even after the confusion had a little abated,
and the younger children were safely in bed,
twenty times during tea he was referred to in the
most dejected manner, and his present position
angrily speculated upon, — whether he would keep
the hook in his mouth for the remainder of his
natural life, or succeed in rubbing it off among
the weeds at the bottom of the loch.

" To be sure he will, and be just as cheerful as
ever, the wretch! Oh, that I had him, — hook
and all ! For it was one of my very best flies."

146 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

" Papa, if you would let me ' low ' you in the
boat, while you fished, perhaps he might come
and bite again to-morrow ? "

This deep diplomatic suggestion of Eddie's did
not meet with half the success it deserved. No-
body noticed it except his mother, and she only
smiled.

" Well ! " she said, trying to cheer up the
mournful company, "• misfortunes can't be helped
sometimes. It is sad. 7Venty-five pounds of fish ;
boiled, fried into steaks, kippered. Oh, dear ! what
a help in the feeding of the household ! "

" Yes," said the patient gentleman, who, being
unable to walk, could only sit and fish, and, hav-
ing come all the way from London to catch a
salmon, had never yet had a bite except this one.
" Yes, twenty-five pounds at two shillings the
pound, — Billingsgate price now. That makes
two-pound-ten of good English money gone to
the bottom of the loch ! "

Everybody laughed at this practical way of
putting the matter, and the laugh a little raised
the spirits of the gentlemen. Though still they
mourned, and mourned, looking as wretched as if
they had lost their whole families in the loch, in-
stead of that unfortunate — or fortunate — salmon.

" It isn't myself I care for," lamented Maurice's
papa. " It's you others. For I know you will

LITTLE SUASHLNE'S HOLIDAY. 1 47

have no other chance. The rain will clear off —
it's clearing off now, into a beautiful starlight
night. To-morrow will be another of those
dreadfully sunshiny days. Not a fish will bite,
and vou will have to go home at the wreck's end,
— and there's that salmon King snuglv in his
hole, with my hook in his mouth ! "

" Never mind," said the patient gentleman,
who, though really the most to be pitied, bore
his disappointment better than anybody. ". There's
plenty of fish in the loch, for I've seen them
every day jumping up ; and somebody will catch
them, if I don't. After all, we had an hour's
good sport with that fellow to-day, — and it was
all the better for him that he got away."

With which noble sentiment the good man
took one of the boys on his knee, — his godson,
for whom he was planning an alliance with his
daughter, a young lady of four and a half, — and
began discussing the settlements he expected ;
namely, a large cake on her side, and on the
young gentleman's, at least ten salmon out of the
loch, to be sent in a basket to London. With
this he entertained both children and parents, so
that everybody grew merry as usual, and the lost
salmon fell into the category of misfortunes over
which the best dirge is the shrewd Scotch proverb,
" It's nae use greeting ower spilt milk."

CHAPTER IX.

The forebodings of the disappointed salmon-
fishers turned out true. That wet Monday was
the first and last day of rain, for weeks. Scarcely
ever had such a dry season been known in the
glen. Morning after morning the gentlemen
rowed out in a hopeless manner, taking their rods
with them, under a sky cloudless and hot as June ;
evening after evening, if the slightest ripple arose,
they went out again, and floated about lazily in
the gorgeous sunset, but not a salmon would bite.
Fish after fish, each apparently bigger than the
other, kept jumping up, sometimes quite close to
the boat. Some must have swum under the line
and looked at it, made an examination of the fly
and laughed at it, but as for swallowing it, oh,
dear, no ! Not upon any account.

What was most tantalising, the gardener, going
out one day, without orders, and with one of his
master's best lines, declared he had hooked a
splendid salmon ! As it got away, and also car-
ried off the fly, a valuable one, perhaps it was

148

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 49

advisable to call it a salmon, but nobody quite
believed this. It might have been only a large
trout.

By degrees, as salmon-fishing, never plentiful,
became hopeless, and game scarcer than ever, the
gentlemen waxed dull, and began to catch at the
smallest amusements. They grew as excited as
the little boys over nutting-parties, going in whole
boat-loads to the other side of the loch, and prom-
ising to bring home large bags of nuts for winter
consumption, but somehow the nuts all got eaten
before the boats reached land.

The clergyman was often one of the nutting-
party. He knew every nook and corner of the
country around, was equally good at an oar or a
fishing-rod, could walk miles upon miles across
the mountains, and scramble over rocks as light
as a deer. Besides, he was so kind to children,
and took such pleasure in pleasing them, that he
earned their deepest gratitude, as young things
understand gratitude. But they are loving, any-
how, to those that love them, and to have those
little boys climbing over him, and hanging about
him, and teasing him on all occasions to give
them " a low," was, I dare say, sufficient reward
for the good minister.

Sunny liked him, too, very much, and was
delighted to go out with him. But there was such

150 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

dangerous emulation between her and the boys in
the matter of " fishing " for dead leaves with a
stick, which involved leaning over the boat's side
and snatching at them when caught, and mamma
got so many frights, that she was not sorry when
the minister announced that every nut-tree down
the canal had been " harried " of its fruit, and
henceforward people must content themselves with
dry land and blackberries.

This was not an exciting sport, and one day
the gentlemen got so hard up for amusement that
they spent half the morning in watching some
gymnastics of Maurice and Eddie, which consisted
in climbing up to their papa's shoulder and sit-
ting on his head. (A proceeding which Sunny
admired so, that she never rested till she partly
imitated it by " walking up mamma as if she
was a tree," which she did at last like a little
acrobat.)

Children and parents became quite interested in
their mutual performances ; everybody laughed a
good deal, and forgot to grumble at the weather,
when news arrived that a photographer, coming
through the glen, had stopped at the house, wish-
ing to know if the family would like their portraits
taken.

Now, anybody, not an inhabitant, coming
through the glen, was an object of interest in this

LITTLE SUNSHINE 'S HO LI DA Y. I 5 I

lonely place. But a photographer ! Maurice's
papa caught at the idea enthusiastically.

" Have him in, by all means. Let us see his
pictures. Let us have ourselves done in a general
group."

" And the children," begged their mamma.
"Austin Thomas has never been properly taken,
and baby not at all. I must have a portrait of
baby."

" Also," suggested somebody, " we might as
well take a portrait of the mountains. They'll sit
for it quiet enough ; which is more than can be
said for the children, probably."

It certainly was. Never had a photographer a
more hard-working morning. No blame to the
weather, which (alas, for the salmon-fishers !) was
perfect as ever; but the difficulty of catching the
sitters and arranging them, and keeping them
steady, was enormous.

First the servants all wished to be taken ; some
separately, and then in a general group, which was
arranged beside the kitchen door, the scullery
being converted into a "dark room" for the
occasion. One after the other, the maids disap-
peared, and re-appeared full-dressed, in the most
wonderful crinolines and chignons, but looking not
half so picturesque as a Highland farm-girl, who,
in her woollen striped petticoat and short gown.

152 LITTLE SUXSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

with her dark red hair knotted up behind, sat
on the wall of the yard contemplating the pro-
ceedings.

The children ran hither and thither, highly
delighted, except Franky and Austin Thomas, who
were made to suffer a good deal, the latter being
put into a stiff white pique frock, braided with
black braid, which looked exactly as if some one
had mistaken him for a sheet of letter-paper and
begun to write upon him ; while Franky, dressed
in his Sunday's best, with his hair combed and
face clean, was in an aggravating position for his
ordinary week-day amusements. He consoled
himself by running in and out among the servants,
finally sticking himself in the centre of the group,
and being depicted there, as natural as life.

A very grand picture it was, the men-servants
being in front, — Highland men always seem to
consider themselves superior beings, and are seen
lounging about and talking, while the women are
shearing, or digging, or hoeing potatoes. The
maids stood in a row behind, bolt upright, smiling
as hard as they could, and little Franky occupied
the foreground, placed between the gardener's
knees. A very successful photograph, and worthy
of going down to posterity, as doubtless it will.

Now for the children. The baby, passive in
an embroidered muslin frock, came out, of course.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 53

as a white mass with something resembling a face
at the top i but Austin Thomas was a difficult
subject. He wouldn't sit still, no, not for a min-
ute, but kept wriggling about on the kitchen chair
that was brought for him, and looked so miserable
in his stiff frock, that his expression was just as if
he were going to be whipped, and didn't like
it at all.

In vain Franky, who always patronised and
protected his next youngest brother in the tender-
est way, began consoling him : " Never mind,
sonnie," — that was Franky's pet name for Aus-
tin,— "they sha'n't hurt you. I'll take care they
don't hurt you."

Still the great black thing, with the round glass
eye fixed upon him, was too much for Austin's
feelings. He wriggled, and wriggled, and never
would this likeness have been taken at all, —
at least that morning, — if somebody had not
suggested " a piece." Off flew Alary, the cook,
and brought back the largest "piece" — bread
with lots of jam upon it — that ever little Scotch-
man revelled in. Austin took it, and being
with great difficulty made to understand that he
must pause in eating now and then, the pho-
tographer seized the happy moment, and took him
between his mouthfuls, with Franky keeping guard
over him the while, lest anybody did him any

154 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

harm. And a very good picture it is, though
neither boy is quite handsome enough, of course.
No photographs e\er arc.

Little Sunshine, meanwhile, had been deeply
interested in the whole matter. She was quite an
old hand at it, having herself sat for her photograph
several times.

" Would vou like to see my likenesses ? " she
kept asking anybody or everybody ; and brought
down the whole string of them, describing them
one by one : " Sunny in her mamma's arms, when
she was a little baby, very cross ;" " Sunny just going
to cry ;" " Sunny in a boat ;" " Sunny sitting on a
chair ;" " Sunny with her shoes and stockings off,
kicking over a basket ;" and lastly (the little show-
woman always came to this with a scream of
delight), "That's my papa and mamma, Sunny's
own papa and mamma, both together ! "

Though then she had not been in the least
afraid of the camera, but, when the great glass eye
looked at her, looked steadily at it back, still she
did not seem to like it now. She crept beside her
mamma and her Lizzie, looking on with curiosity,
but keeping a long way ofF, till the groups were
done.

There were a few more taken, in one of which
Sunny stood in the doorway in her Lizzie's arms.

And her papa and mamma, who meanwhile had

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 55

taken a good long walk up the hill-road, came
back in time to figure in two rows of black dots
on either side of a shady road, which were supposed
to be portraits of the whole party. The mountains
opposite also sat for their likenesses, — which must
have been a comfort to the photographer, as they
at least could not " move." But, on the whole,
the honest man made a good morning's work, and
benefited considerably thereby.

Which was more than the household did. For,
as was natural, the cook being dressed so beauti-
fully, the dinner was left pretty much to dress
itself. Franky and Austin Thomas suffered so
much from having on their best clothes that they
did not get over it for ever so long. And Sunny,
too, upset by these irregular proceedings, when
taking a long-promised afternoon walk with her
papa, was as cross as such a generally good little
girl could be, insisting on being carried the whole
way, and carried only by her mamma. And though,
as mamma often says, *' she wouldn't sell her for
her weight in gold," she is a pretty considerable
weight to carry on a warm afternoon.

Still the day had passed pleasantly away, the
photographs were all done, to remain as memorials
of the holiday, long after it was ended. In years
to come, when the children are all men and
women, they may discover them in some nook or

156 LITTLE SUXSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

other, and try to summon up faint recollections
of the time. Oh, if Little Sunshine might never
cry except to be carried in mamma's arms ! and
Austin Thomas find no sorer affliction in life than
sitting to be photographed in stiff white clothes !

But that cannot be. They must all bear their
burdens, as their parents did. May God take care
of them when we can do it no more !

The week had rolled by, — weeks roll by so
fast ! — and it was again Sunday, the last Sunday
at the glen, and just such another as before : calm,
still, sunshiny ; nothing but peace on earth and
sky. Peace ! when far away beyond the circle of
mountains within which parents and children were
enjoying such innocent pleasures, such deep repose,
there was going on, for other parents and children,
the terrible siege of Paris. Week by week, and
day by day, the Germans were closing in round
the doomed city, making ready to destroy by fire,
or sword, or famine, — all sent by man's hand,
not God's, — hundreds, thousands of innocent en-
emies. Truly, heayen will haye been well filled,
and earth well emptied during the year 1870.

What a glorious summer it was, as to weather,
will long be remembered in Scotland. Even up
to this Sunday, the 2d of October, the air was
balmy and warm as June. Everybody gathered
outside on the terrace, including the forlorn

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 157

salmon-fishers, whose last hope was now extin-
guished ; for the patient gentleman, and Sunny's
papa, too, were to leave next morning. And the
fish jumped up in the glassy loch, livelier than
ever, as if they were having a special jubilee in
honour of their foe's departure.

He sat resigned and cheerful, smoking his cigar,
and protesting that, with all his piscatory disap-
pointments, this was the loveliest place he had
ever been in, and that he had spent the pleasantest
of holidays ! There he was left to enjoy his last
bit of the mountains and loch in quiet content,
while everybody else went to church.

Even Little Sunshine. For her mamma and
papa had taken counsel together whether it was
not possible for her to be good there, so as at
least to be no hindrance to other people's going,
which was as much as could be expected for so
small a child. Papa doubted this, but mamma
pleaded for her little girl, and promised to keep
her good if possible. She herself had a great
desire that the first time ever Sunny went to
church should be in this place.

So they had a talk together, mamma and Sunny,
in which mamma explained that Sunny might go
to church, as Maurice and Eddie did, if she would
sit quite quiet, as she did at prayers, and promise
not to speak one word, as nobody ever spoke in

158 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

church excepting the minister. She promised,
this little girl who has such a curious feeling about
keeping a promise, and allowed herself to be
dressed without murmuring — nay, with a sort of
dignified pride — to " go to church." She even
condescended to have her gloves put on, always a
severe trial \ and never was there a neater little
figure, all in white from top to toe, with a white
straw hat, as simple as possible, and the yellow
curls tumbling down from under it. As she put
her little hand in her mamma's and they two
started together, somewhat in advance of the rest,
for it was a long half-mile for such baby feet, her
mamma involuntarily thought of a verse in a
poem she learnt when she herself was a little

girl :

" Thy dress was like the lilies,

And thy heart was pure as they ;
One of God's holy angels
Did walk with me that day."

Only Sunny was not an angel, but an ordinary
little girl. A good little girl generally, but capa-
ble of being naughty sometimes. She will have
to try hard to be good every day of her life, as
we all have. Still, with her sweet, grave face,
and her soft, pretty ways, there was something of
the angel about her this day.

Her mamma tried to make her understand, in a

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 59

dim way, what " church " meant, — that it was
saying " thank you " to God, as mamma did con-
tinually ; especially for His giving her her little
daughter. How He lived up in the sky, and no-
body saw Him, but He saw everybody ; how He
loved Little Sunshine, just as her papa and mamma
loved her, and was glad when she was good, and
grieved when she was naughty. This was all the
child could possibly take in, and even thus much
was doubtful ; but she listened, seeming as if she
comprehended a small fragment of the great mys-
tery which even we parents understand so little.
Except that when we look at our children, and
feel how dearly we love them, how much we
would both do and sacrifice for them, how if we
have to punish them it is never in anger but in
anguish and pain, suffering twice as much our-
selves the while, — then we can faintly understand
how He who put such love into us, must Himself
love infinitely more, and meant us to believe this,
when He called Himself our Father. Therefore
it was that through her papa's and mamma's love
Sunny could best be taught her first dim idea of
God.

She walked along very sedately, conversing by
the way, and not attempting to dart from side to
side, after one object or another, as this butterfly
child always does on a week-day. But Sunday,

l6o LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

and Sunday clothes, conduced exceedingly to
proper behaviour. Besides, she felt that she was
her mamma's companion, and was proud accord-
ingly. Until, just before reaching the church,
came a catastrophe which certainly could not
have happened in any other church-going walk
than this.

A huge, tawny-coloured bull stood in the centre
of the road, with half a dozen cows and calves
behind him. They moved awav, feeding leisurely
on either side the road, but the bull held his
ground, looking at mamma and Sunny from under
his shaggy brows, as if he would like to eat them
up.

" Mamma, take her ! " whispered the poor little
girl, rather frightened, but neither crying nor
screaming.

iVIamma popped her prayer-book in her pocket,
dropped her parasol on the ground, and took up
her child on her left arm, leaving the right arm
free. A fortnight ago she would have been
alarmed, but now she understood the ways of
these Highland cattle, and that they were not half
so dangerous as they looked. Besides, the fiercest
animal will often turn before a steady, fearless
human eye. So they stood still, and faced the
bull, even Sunny meeting the creature with a gaze
as firm and courageous as her mamma's. He

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. l6l

Stood It for a minute or so, then he deliberately
turned tail, and walked up the hillside.

" The big bull didn't hurt Sunny ! He wouldn't
hurt little Sunny, would he, mamma ? " said she,
as they walked on together. She has the happiest
conviction that no creature in the world would
ever be so unkind as to hurt Sunny. How should
it, when she is never unkind to any living thing ?
When the only living thing that ever she saw
hurt — a wasp that crept into the carriage, and
stung Sunny on her poor little leg, and her nurse
was so angry that she killed it on the spot —
caused the child a troubled remembrance. She
talked, months afterward, with a grave counte-
nance, of " the wasp that was obliged to be killed,
because it stung Sunny."

She soon looked benignly at the big bull, now
standing watching her from the hillside, and
wanted to play with the little calves, who still
stayed feeding near. She was also very anxious
to know if they were going to church too ? But
before the question — a rather puzzling one —
could be answered, she was overtaken by the
rest of the congregation, including Maurice and
Eddie with their parents. The two boys only
smiled at her, and walked into church, so good
and grave that Sunny was Impressed Into pre-
ternatural gravity too. When the rest were

1 62 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

seated, she, holding her mamma's hand, walked
quietly in as if accustomed to it all and joined the
congregation.

The seat they chose was, for precaution, the
one nearest the door, and next to " the pauper," an
old man who alone of all the inhabitants of the
glen did not work, but received parish relief. He
was just able to come to church, but looked as if
he had " one foot in the grave," as people say
(whither, indeed, the other foot soon followed, for
the poor old man died not many weeks after this
Sunday). He had a wan, weary, but uncom-
plaining face ; and as the rosy child, with her
bright curls, her fair, fresh cheeks, and plump,
round limbs, sat down upon the bench beside him,
the two were a strange and touching contrast.

Never did any child behave better than Little
Sunshine, on this her first going to church. Yes,
even though she soon caught sight of her own
papa, sitting a few benches off, but afraid to look
at her lest she should misbehave. Also of Mau-
rice's papa and mamma, and of Maurice and Eddie
themselves, not noticing her at all, and behaving
beautifully. She saw them, but, faithful to her
promise, she did not speak one word, not even in
a whisper to mamma. She allowed herself to be
lifted up and down, to sit or stand as the rest did,
and when the music began she listened with an

fe^

>^>'

^ 1^

S^Vk xx

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 65

ecstasy of pleasure on her little face ; but other-
wise she conducted herself as well as if she had
been thirteen instead of not quite three years old.
Once only, when the prayers were half through,
and the church was getting warm, she gravely
took ofF her hat and laid it on the bench before
her, — sitting the rest of the service with her
pretty curls bare, — but that was all.

During the sermon she was severely tried.
Not by its length, for it was fortunately short, and
she sat on her mamma's lap, looking fixedly into
the face of the minister, as pleased with him in
his new position as when he was rowing her in
the boat, or gathering nuts for her along the canal
bank. All were listening, as attentive as possible,
for everybody loved him, Sundays and week-days ;
and even Sunny herself gazed as earnestly as if
she were taking in every word he said, — when
her quick little eyes were caught by a new interest,
— a small, shaggy Scotch terrier, who put his
wise-looking head inquiringly in at the open door.

Oh, why was the church door left open ? No
doubt, so thought the luckless master of that
doggie ! He turned his face away ; he kept as
quiet as possible, hoping not to be discovered ;
but the faithful animal was too much for him.
In an ecstasy of joy, the creature rushed in and
out and under several people's legs, till he got to

1 66 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

the young man who owned him, and then jumped
upon him in unmistakable recognition. Happily,
he did not bark ; indeed, his master, turning red as
a peonv, held his hand over the creature's mouth.

What was to be done ? If he scolded the dog,
or beat him, there would be a disturbance imme-
diately ; if he encouraged or caressed him, the
lo\ ing beast would have begun — in fact, he did
slightly begin — a delighted whine. All the per-
plexed master could do was to keep him as quiet
as circumstances allowed, which he managed
somehow by setting his foot on the wildly wag-
ging tail, and twisting his lingers in one of the
long ears, the dog resisting not at all. Quite
content, if close to his master, the faithful beast
snuggled down, amusing himself from time to
time by gnawing first a hat and then an umbrella,
and giving one small growl as an accidental foot-
step passed down the road \ but otherwise behav-
ing as well as anybody in church. The master,
too, tried to face out his difficulty, and listen as if
nothing was the matter; but I doubt he rather
lost the thread of the sermon.

So did Sunny's mamma for a few minutes.
Sunny is so fond of little doggies, that she fully
expected the child to jump from her lap, and run
after this one ; or, at least, to make a loud remark
concerning it, for the benefit of the congregation

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 6/

generally. But Sunny evidently remembered that
" nobody spoke in church j " and possibly she
regarded the dog's entrance as a portion of the
service, for she maintained the most decorous
gravity. She watched him, of course, with all her
eyjes ; and once she turned with a silent appeal to
her mamma to look too, but said not a word.
The little terrier himself did not behave better
than she, to the very end of the service.

It ended with a beautiful hymn, — "O Thou
from whom all goodness flows." Everybody
knows it, and the tune too \ which I think was
originally one of those sweet litanies to the Vir-
gin which one hears in French churches, espe-
cially during the month of May. The little
congregation knew it well, and sang it well, too.
When Sunny saw them all stand up, she of her
own accord stood up likewise, mounting the bench
beside the old pauper, who turned half round, and
looked on the pleasant child with a faint, pathetic
sort of smile.

Strange it was to stand and watch the different
people who stood singing, or listening to, that
hymn ; Maurice and Eddie, with their papa and
mamma ; other papas and mammas with their lit-
tle ones ; farmers and farm-servants who lived
in the glen, with a chance tourist or two who
happened to be passing through ; several old High-

1 68 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

land women, grim and gaunt with long, hard-
working lives ; the poor old pauper, who did not
know that his life was so nearly over ; and lastly,
the little three-year-old child, with her blue eyes
wide open and her rosy lips parted, not stirring a
foot or a finger, perfectly motionless with delight.
Verse after verse rose the beautiful hymn, not the
less beautiful because so familiar :

" O Thou from whom all goodness flows,
I lift my soul to Thee ;
In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes,

0 Lord, remember me !

" When on my aching, burdened heart,
My sins lie heavily.
Thy pardon grant. Thy peace impart.
In love, remember me !

" When trials sore obstruct my way.
And ills I cannot flee,
Oh ! let my strength be as my day,
For good, remember me !

" When worn with pain, disease, and grief.
This feeble body see,
Give patience, rest, and kind relief.
Hear, and remember me !

" When in the solemn hour of death

1 wait Thy just decree,

Be this the prayer of my last breath,
' O Lord, remember me ! ' "

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 69

As Little Sunshine stood there, unconsciously
moving her baby lips to the pretty tune, — igno-
rant of all the words and their meaning, — her
mother, not ignorant, took the tiny soft hand in
hers and said for her in her heart, " Amen."

When the hymn was done, the congregation
passed slowly out of church, most of them stop-
ping to speak or shake hands, for of course all
knew one another, and several were neighbours
and friends. Then at last Sunny's papa ventured
to take up his little girl, and kiss her, telling her
what a very good little girl she had been, and how
pleased he was to see it. The minister, walking
home between Maurice and Eddie, who seized
upon him at once, turned round to say that he
had never known a little girl, taken to church for
the first time, behave so remarkably well. And
though she was too young to understand anything
except that she had been a good girl, and every-
body loved her and was pleased with her, still
Sunny also looked pleased, as if satisfied that
church-going was a sweet and pleasant thing.

CHAPTER X.

Little Sunshine's delicious holiday — equally
delicious to her papa and mamma, too — was now
fast drawing to a close. This Sunday sunset,
more gorgeous perhaps than ever, was the last
that the assembled party of big and little people
watched together from the terrace. By the next
Sunday, they knew, all of them would be scat-
tered far and wide, in all human probability never
again to meet, as a collective party, in this world.
For some of them had come from the " under
world," the Antipodes, and were going back
thither in a hw months, and all had their homes
and fortunes widely dispersed, so as to make their
chances of future reunion small.

They were sorry to part, I think, — even those
who were nearly strangers to one another, — and
those who were friends were very sorry indeed.
The children, of course, were not sorry at all,
for they understood nothing about the matter.
For instance, it did not occur in the least to Sunny
or to Austin Thomas (still viewing one another

170

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I /I

with suspicious eyes, and always on the brink of
war, though Sunny kept her promise, and did not
attack again), that the next time they met might
be as big boy and girl, learning lessons, and not
at all disposed to fight ; or else as grown young
man and woman, obliged to be polite to one an-
other whether they liked it or not.

But the elders were rather grave, and watched
the sun set, or rather not the sun, — for he was
always invisible early in the afternoon, the house
being placed on the eastern slope of the hill, —
but the sunset glow on the range of mountains
opposite. Which, as the light gradually receded
upward, the shadow pursuing, had been, evening
after evening, the loveliest sight imaginable. This
night especially, the hills seemed to turn all col-
ours, fading at last into a soft gray, but keeping
their outlines distinct long after the loch and val-
ley were left dark.

So, good-bye, sun ! When he rose again, two
of the party would be on board a steamboat, —
the steamboat, for there was but one, — sailing
away southward, where there were no hills, no
lochs, no salmon-fishing, no idle, sunshiny days,
— nothing but work, work, work. For " grown-
ups," as Sunny calls them, do really work ; though,
as a little girl once observed pathetically to Sun-
ny's mamma, " Oh, 1 wish I was grown up, and

1/2 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

then I might be idle ! We children have to work
so hard ! while you and my mamma do nothing
all day long." (Oh, dear !)

Well, work is good, and pleasant too ; though
perhaps Sunny's papa did not exactly think so,
when he gave her her good-night kiss, which was
also good-bye. For he was to start so earlv in
the morning that it was almost the middle of the
night, in order to catch the steamer which should
touch at the pier ten miles off, between six and
seven a. m. Consequently, there was breakfast
by candle-light, and hasty adieux, and a dreary
departure of the carriage under the misty morning
starlight \ everybody making an effort to be jolly,
and not quite accomplishing it. Then evervbodv,
or as many as had had courage to rise, went to
bed again, and tried to sleep, with varied success,
Sunny's mamma with none at all.

It recurred to her, as a curious coincidence,
that this very day, twenty-five years before, after
sitting up all night, she had watched, solemnly as
one never does it twice in a lifetime, a glorious
sunrise. She thought she would go out and watch
another, from the hillside, over the mountains.

My children, did you ever watch a sunrise ?
No ? Then go and do it as soon as ever you
can. Not lazily from your bedroom window,
but out in the open air, where you seem to hear

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 73

and see the earth gradually waking up, as she
does morning after morning, each waking as won-
derful and beautiful as if she had not done the
same for thousands of years, and may do it for
thousands more.

When the carriage drove off, it was still star-
light, — morning starlight, pale, dreary, and ex-
cessively cold ; but now a faint coloured streak of
dawn began to put the stars out, and creep up and
up behind the curves of the eastern hills. Grad-
ually the daylight increased, — it was clear enough
to see things, though everything looked cheerless
and gray. The grass and heather were not merely
damp, but soaking wet, and over the loch and its
low-lying shores was spread a shroud of white
mist. There was something almost painful in
the intense stillness ; it felt as if all the world
were dead and buried, and when suddenly a cock
crew from the farm, he startled one as if he had
been a ghost.

But the mountains, — the mountains! Turn-
ing eastward, to look at them, all the dullness,
solitude, and dreariness of the lower world van-
ished. They stood literally bathed in light, as
the sun rose up behind them, higher and higher,
brighter and brighter, every minute. Suddenly
an arrow of light shot across the valley, and
touched the flat granite boulder on which, after a

1/4 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

rather heavy climb, Sunny's mamma had succeeded
in perching herself like a large bird, tucking her
feet under her, and wrapping herself up as tightly
as possible in her plaid, as some slight protection
against the damp cold. But when the sunshine
came, chilliness and cheerlessness vanished. And
as the beam broadened, it seemed to light up the
whole world.

How she longed for her child, not merely for
company, though that would have been welcome
in the extreme solitude, but that she might show
her, what even such baby eyes could not but have
seen, — the exceeding beauty of God's earth, and
told her how it came out of the love of God,
who loved the world and all that was in it. How
He loved Sunny, and would take care of her all
her life, as He had taken care of her, and of her
mamma, too. How, if she were good and loved
Him back again. He would be sure to make for
her, through all afflictions, a happy life ; since,
like the sunrise, " His mercies are new every
morning, and His compassions fail not.'*

Warmer and warmer the cold rock grew ; a
few birds began to twitter, the cocks crowed from
the farmyard, and from one of the cottages a
slender line of blue peat smoke crept up, showing
that somebody else was awake besides Sunny's
mamma i which was rather a comfort, — she was

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1/5

getting tired of having the world all to her-
self.

Presently an old woman came out of a cottage-
door, and went to the burn for water, probably to
make her morning porridge. A tame sheep fol-
lowed her, walking leisurely to the burn and back
again, perhaps with an eye to the porridge-pot
afterward. And a lazy pussy-cat also crept out,
and climbed on the roof of the cottage, for a little
bit of sunshine before breakfast. Sunny's mamma
also began to feel that it was time to see about
breakfast, for sunrise on the mountains makes one
very hungry.

Descending the hill was worse than ascending,

there being no regular track, only some marks of

where the sheep were in the habit of climbing.

And the granite rocks presented a flat, sloping

surface, sometimes bare, sometimes covered with

slippery moss, which was not too agreeable.

Elsewhere, the ground was generally boggy with

tufts of heather between, which one might step or

jump. But as soon as one came to a level bit it

was sure to be bog, with little streams running

through it, which had to be crossed somehow, even

without the small convenience of stepping-stones.

Once, when her stout stick alone saved her

from a sprained ankle, she amused herself with

thinking how in such a case she might have

176 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

shouted vainly for help, and how bewildered the
old woman at the cottage would have been on find-
ing out that the large creature, a sheep as she had
probably supposed, sitting on the boulder over-
head, which she had looked up at once or twice,
was actually a wandering lady !

It was now half-past seven, and the usual
breakfast party on the door-step was due at eight.
Welcome was the sound of little voices, and the
patter of small eager feet along the gravel walk.
Sunny's mamma had soon her own child in her
arms and the other children around her, all eating
bread and butter and drinking milk with the great-
est enjoyment. The sun was now quite warm,
and the mist had furled off the loch, leaving it
clear and smooth as ever.

Suddenly Eddie's sharp eyes caught something
there which quite interrupted his meal. It was a
water-fowl, swimming in and out among the Island
of water-lilies, and even coming as close inshore
as the pier. Not one of the nine geese, certainly ;
this bird was dark coloured, and small, yet seemed
larger than the water-hens, which also were
familiar to the children. Some one suggested it
might possibly be a wild duck.

Eddie's eyes brightened. " Then might I ' low *
In a boat, with papa's gun, and go and shoot It? "

This being a too irregular proceeding, Sunny's

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. X'J'J

mamma proposed a medium course, namely, that
Eddie should inform his papa that there was a
bird supposed to be a wild duck, and then he
might do as he thought best about shooting it.

Maurice and Eddie were accordingly off like
lightning ; three of Maurice's worms which had
taken the opportunity of crawling out of his
pocket and on to the tray, being soon afterward
found leisurely walking over the bread and butter
plate. Franky and Austin Thomas took the
excitement calmly, the one thinking it a good
chance of eating up his brothers' rejected shares,
and the other proceeding unnoticed to his favour-
ite occupation of filling the salt-cellar with sand
from the walk.

Soon Donald, who had also seen the bird,
appeared, with his master's gun all ready, and the
master, having got into his clothes in preternatu-
rally quick time, hurried down to the loch, his
boys accompanying him. Four persons, two
big and two little, after one unfortunate bird !
which still kept swimming about, a tiny black dot
on the clear water, as happy and unconscious as
possible.

The ladles, too, soon came out and watched
the sport from the terrace ; wondering whether
the duck was within range of the gun, and
whether it really was a wild duck, or not. A

178 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

shot, heard from behind the trees, deepened the
interest ; and when, a minute after, a boat con-
taining Maurice, Eddie, their papa, and Donald,
was seen to pull off from the pier, the excitement
was so great that nobody thought about breakfast.

" It must be a wild duck ; they have shot it \
it will be floating on the water, and they are going
after it in the boat."

" I hope Eddie will not tumble into the water,
in his eagerness to pull the bird out."

"There, — the gun is in the boat with them!
Suppose Maurice stumbles over it, and it goes ofF
and shoots somebody ! "

Such were the maternal forebodings, but nothing
of the sort happened, and by and by, when break-
fast was getting exceedingly cold, a little procession,
all unharmed, was seen to wind up from the loch,
Eddie and Maurice on either side of their papa.

He walked between them, shouldering his gun,
so that, loaded or not, it could not possibly hurt
his little boys. But he looked extremely dejected,
and so did Donald, who followed, bearing " the
body " — of a poor little dripping, forlorn-looking
bird.

" Is that the wild duck ? " asked everybody at
once.

" Pooh ! It wasn't a wild duck at all. It was
only a large water-hen. Not worth the trouble of

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. I 79

shooting, certainly not of cooking. And then we
had all the bother of getting out the gun, and
tramping over the wet grass to get a fair shot, and,
after we shot it, of rowing after it, to fish it up
out of the loch. Wretched bird ! "

Donald, imitating his master, regarded the booty
with the utmost contempt, even kicking it with
his foot as it lay, poor little thing ! But no kicks
could harm it now. Sunny only went up and
touched it timidly, stroking its pretty, wet feathers
with her soft little hand.

"Mamma, can't it fly? why doesn't it get up
and fly away ? And it is so cold. Might Sunny
warm it ? " as she had once tried to warm the only
dead thing she ever saw, — a little field mouse
lying on the garden walk at home, which she put
in her pinafore and cuddled up to her little " bosie,"
and carried about with her for half an hour or more.

Quite puzzled, she watched Donald carrying off
the bird, and only half accepted mamma's explana-
tion that " there was no need to warm it, — it
was gone to its bye-bye, and would not wake up
any more."

Though she was living at a shooting-lodge, this
was the only dead thing Sunny had yet chanced
tc see, for there was so little game about that the
gentlemen rarely shot any. But this morning one
of them declared that if he walked his legs off over

l8o LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

the mountains, he must go and have a try at
something. So off he set, guided . by Donald,
while the rest of the party fished meekly for trout,
or went along the hill-road on a still more humble
hunt after blackberries. Sometimes they wondered
about the stray sportsman, and listened for gun-
shots from the hills, — the sound of a gun could
be heard for so very far in this still, bright weather.

And when, at the usual dinner-hour, he did not
appear, they waited a little while for him. They
were going at length to begin the meal, when he
was seen coming leisurely along the garden walk.

Eager were the inquiries of the master.

" Well, — any grouse ? "

" No."

" Partridges ? "

" No."

" I knew it. There has not been a partridge
seen here for years. Snipes, perhaps ? "

" Never saw one."

" Then what have you been about ? Have
you shot nothing at all ? "

" Not quite nothing. A roe-deer. The first
I ever killed in my life. Here, Donald."

With all his brevity, the sportsman could not
hide the sparkle of his eye. Donald, looking
equally delighted, unloosed the creature, which he
had been carrying around his neck in the most

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. l8l

affectionate manner, its fore legs clasped over one
shoulder, and its hind legs over the other, and
laid it down on the gravel walk.

What a pretty creature it was, with its round,
slender, shapely limbs, its smooth satin skin, and its
large eyes, that in life would have been so soft and
bright ! They were dim and glazed now, though
it was scarcely cold yet.

Everybody gathered around to look at it, and
the sportsman told the whole story of his shot.

" She is a hind, you see ; most likely has a fawn
somewhere not far off. For I shot her close by
the farm here. I was coming home, not over-
pleased at coming so empty-handed, when I saw
her standing on the hill top, just over that rock
there : a splendid shot she was, but so far off that
I never thought I should touch her. However, I
took aim, and down she dropped. Just feel her.
She is an admirable creature, so fat! Quite a
picture ! "

So it was, but a rather sad one. The deer lay,
her graceful head hopelessly dangling, and bloody
drops beginning to ooze from her open mouth.

Otherwise she might have been asleep, — as
innocent. Sunnv, who had run with the boys to
see the sight, evidently thought she was.

" Mamma, look at the little baa-lamb, the dear
little baa-lamb. Won't it wake up ? "

I 82 LITTLE SUA'SIIINE'S HOLIDAY,

Mamma explained that it was not a baa-lamb,
but a deer, and there stopped, considering how to
make her child understand that solemn thing, death ;
which no child can be long kept in ignorance of,
and yet which is so difficult to explain. Mean-
time, Sunny stood looking at the deer, but did not
attempt to touch it as she had touched the water-
hen. It was so large a creature to lie there so
helpless and motionless. At last she looked up,
with trouble in her eyes.

" Mamma, it won't wake up. Make it wake
up, please ! "

" I can't, my darling ! " And there came a
choke in mamma's throat, — this foolish mamma,
who dislikes "sport," — who looks upon soldiers
as man-slayers, " glory " as a great delusion, and
war a heinous crime. " My little one, the pretty
deer has gone to sleep, and nobody can wake it
up again. But it does not suffer. Nothing hurts
it now. Come away, and mamma will tell you
more about this another day."

The little fingers contentedly twined themselves
in her mamma's, and Sunshine came away, turn-
ing back now and then a slightly regretful look on
the poor hind that lay there, the admiration of
everybody, and especially of the gentleman who
had shot it.

" The first I ever shot," he repeated, with

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 83

great pride. " I only wish I could stay and eat
her. But the rest of you will." (Except Sunny's
mamma, who was rather glad to be spared that
satisfaction.)

A single day was now all that remained of the
visit, — a day which dawned finer than ever, mak-
ing it so hard to quit the hills, and the loch, and
all the charms of this beautiful place. Not a
cloud on the sky, not a ripple on the waters,
blackberries saying " come gather me," by hun-
dreds from every bramble, ferns of rare sort
growing on dikes, and banks, and roots of trees.
This whole morning must be spent on the hill-
side by Sunny and her mamma, combining busi-
ness with pleasure, if possible.

So they took a kitchen knife as an extempore
spade ; a basket, filled with provisions, but meant
afterwards to carry roots, and the well-known
horn cup, which was familiar with so many burns.
Sunny used it for all sorts of purposes besides
drinking ; filled it with pebbles, blackberries, and
lastly with some doubtful vegetables, which she
called " ferns," and dug up, and brought to her
mamma to take home " very carefully."

Ere long she was left to mamma's charge en-
tirely, for this was the last day, and Lizzie had
never climbed a mountain, which she was most
anxious to do, having the common delusion that

184 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

to climb a mountain is the easiest thing in the
world, — as it looks, from the bottom.

Off she started, saying she should be back
again directly, leaving mamma and the child to
watch her from the latest point where there was
a direct path, — the cottage where the old woman
had come out and gone to the burn at sunrise.
Behind it was a large boulder, sunshiny and warm
to sit on, sheltered by a hayrick, on the top of
which was gambolling a pussy-cat. Sunny, with
her usual love for animals, pursued it with relent-
less affection, and at last caught it in her lap,
where it remained about one minute, and then
darted away. Sunny wept bitterly, but was con-
soled by a glass of milk kindly brought by the old
woman ; with which she tried to allure pussy
back again, but in vain.

So there was nothing for it but to sit on her
mamma's lap and watch her Lizzie climbing up
the mountain, in sight all the way, but gradually
diminishing to the size of a calf, a sheep, a rab-
bit ; finally of a black speck, which a sharp eye
could distinguish moving about on the green hill-
side, creeping from bush to bush, and from boul-
der to boulder, till at last it came to the foot of a
perpendicular rock.

" She'll no climb that," observed the old woman,
who had watched the proceeding with much inter-

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 85

est. " Naebody ever does it : she'd better come
down. Cry on her to come down."

" Will she hear .? "

" Oh, yes."

And in the intense stillness, also from the law
of sound ascending, it was curious how far one
could hear. To mamma's great relief, the black
dot stopped in its progress.

" Lizzie, come down," she called again, slowly
and distinctly, and in a higher key, aware that
musical notes will reach far beyond the speaking-
voice. " You've lost the path. Come down ! "

" I'm coming," was the faint answer, and in
course of time Lizzie came, very tired, and just
a little frightened. She had begun to climb
cheerfully and rapidly at first, for the hillside
looked in the distance nearly as smooth as an
English field. When she got there, she found it
was rather different, — that heather bushes, boul-
ders, mosses, and bogs were not the pleasantest
walking. Then she had to scramble on all-fours,
afraid to look downward, lest her head should
turn dizzy, and she might lose her hold, begin
rolling and rolling, and never stop till she came to
the bottom. Still, she went on resolutely, her
stout English heart not liking to be beaten even
by a Scotch mountain ; clinging from bush to
bush, — at this point a small wood had grown up,

1 86 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

— until she reached a spot where the rock was
perpendicular, nay, overhanging, as it formed the
shoulder of the hill.

" I might as well have climbed up the side of
a house," said poor Lizzie, forlornly ; and looked
up at it, vexed at being conquered but evidently
thankful that she had got down alive. " Another
time, — or if I have somebody with me, — I do
believe I could do it."

Bravo, Lizzie ! Half the doings in the world
are done in this spirit. Never say die ! Try
again. Better luck next time.

Meanwhile she drank the glass of milk offered
by the sympathising old Highland woman, who
evidently approved of the adventurous English
girl, then sat down to rest beside Little Sunny.

But Sunny had no idea of resting. She never
has, unless in bed and asleep. Now she was
bent upon also climbing a mountain, — a granite
boulder about three feet high.

" Look, mamma, look at Sunny ! Sunny's
going to climb a mountain, like Lizzie."

Up she scrambled, with both arms and legs, —
catching at the edges of the boulder, but tumbling
back again and again. Still she was not daunted.

" Don't help me ! — don't help me ! " she kept
saying. Sunny wants to climb a mountain all by
her own self."

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

187

Which feat she accomplished at last, and suc-
ceeded in standing upright on the top of the
boulder, very hot, very tired, but triumphant.

" Look, mamma ! Look at Sunny ! Here she
is ! "

Mamma looked \ in fact had been looking out

of the corner of her eye the whole time, though
not assisting at all in the courageous effort.

" Yes, I see. Sunny has climbed a mountain.
Clever little girl ! Mamma is so pleased ! "

How many "mountains" will she climb in her
life, that brave little soul ! Mamma wonders
often, but knows not. Nobody knows.

I 88 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

In the meantime, success was won. She, her
mamma, and her Lizzie, had each " climbed a
mountain." But they all agreed that, though
pleasant enough in its way, such a performance
was a thing not to be attempted every day.

CHAPTER XL

The last day came, — the last hour. Sunny,
her mamma, and her Lizzie, had to turn their
ways homeward, — a long, long journey of several
hundred miles. To begin it at four in the morn-
ing, with a child, too, was decided as imprac-
ticable ; so it was arranged that they should leave
overnight, and sleep at the only available place,
an inn which English superiority scornfully termed
a " public-house," but which here in the High-
lands was called the " hotel," where " gentlemen
could be accommodated with excellent shooting
quarters." Therefore, it was supposed to be able
to accommodate a lady and a child, — for one
night, at least.

Fortunately, the shooting gentlemen did not
avail themselves of it ; for the hotel contained
only two guest-rooms. These being engaged, and
the exact time of the boat next morning learned, —
which was not so easy, as everybody in the neigh-
bourhood gave different advice and a different
opinion, — the departure was settled.

189

190 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

Lovelier than ever looked the hills and the loch
when the carriage came around to the door. All
the little boys crowded around it, with vociferous
farewell, — which they evidently thought great
fun, — Sunny likewise.

" Good-bye ! good-bye ! " cried she, as cheer-
fully as if it had been " how d'ye do," and obsti-
nately refused to be kissed by anybody. Indeed,
this little girl does not like kisses, unless she offers
them of her own accord.

One only grief she had, but that was a sharp
one. Maurice's papa, who had her in his arms,
suddenly proposed that they should " send mamma
away and keep Sunny ; " and the scream of agony
she gave, and the frantic way she clung to her
mamma, and would not look at anybody for fear
of being kept prisoner, was quite pathetic.

At last the good-byes were over. For Little
Sunshine these are as yet meaningless ; life to her
is a series of delights, — the new ones coming as
the old ones go. The felicity of kissing her hand
and driving away was soon followed by the
amusement of standing on her mamma's lap,
where she could see everything along the road,
which she had passed a fortnight before in dark
night.

Now it was golden twilight, — such a twilight !
A year or two hence Sunny would have been in

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 19I

ecstasy at the mountains, standing range behind
range, literally transfigured in light, with the young
moon floating like a " silver boat " (only turned
the wrong way uppermost) over their tops. As it
was, the large, distant world interested her less than
the small, near one, — the trees that swept her
face as she drove along the narrow road, and the
numerous cows and calves that fed on either side
of it.

There was also a salt-water loch, with fishing-
boats drawn up on the beach, and long fishing-
nets hanging on poles; but not a living creature
in sight, except a heron or two. These stood on
one leg, solemnly, as herons do, and then flew off,
flapping their large wings with a noise that made
Little Sunshine, as she expressed it, " nearly
jump." Several times, indeed, she " nearly
jumped " out of the carriage at the curious things
she saw : such funny houses, such little windows,
— "only one pane, mamma," — and, above all,
the girls and boys barefooted, shock-headed, that
hung about staring at the carriage as it passed.

" Have those little children got no Lizzie to
comb their hair ? " she anxiously inquired ; and
mamma was obliged to confess that probably they
had not, at which Sunny looked much surprised.

It was a long, long drive, even with all these
entertainments ; and before it ended, the twilight

192 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

had faded, the moon crept higher over the hill,
and Sunshine asked in a whisper for " Maymie's
apron." The little " Maymie's apron," which
had long lain in abeyance, was produced, and she
soon snuggled down in her mamma's arms and
fell fast asleep.

When she woke up the " hotel " was reached.
Such a queer hotel ! You entered by a low door-
way, which opened into the kitchen below, and a
narrow staircase leading to the guest-rooms above.
From the kitchen Sunny heard a baby cry. She
suddenly stopped, and would not go a step till
mamma had promised she should see the baby, —
a very little baby, only a week old. Then she
mounted with dignity up the rickety stairs, and
began to examine her new apartments.

They were only two, and as homely as they
well could be. Beside the sitting-room was a
tiny bedroom, with a " hole in the wall," where
Lizzie was to sleep. This " hole in the wall"
immediately attracted Sunny ; she jumped in it,
and began crawling about it, and tried to stand
upright under it, which, being such a very little
person, she was just able to do. Finally, she
wanted to go to sleep in it, till, hearing she was
to sleep with mamma, a much grander thing, she
went up to the bed, and investigated it with great
interest likewise. Also the preparations for her

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 93

bath, which was to be in a washing-tub in front
of the parlour fire, — a peat fire. It had a deli-
cious, aromatic smell, and it brightened up the
whole room, which was very clean and tidy, after
all.

So was the baby, which shortly appeared in its
mother's arms. She was a pale, delicate woman,
speaking English with the slow precision of a
Highlander, and having the self-composed, cour-
teous manner that all Highlanders have. She
looked much pleased when her baby was admired,
— though not by Sunny, who, never having seen
so young a baby before, did not much approve of
it, and especially disapproved of seeing it taken
into her own mamma's arms. So presently it and
its mother disappeared, and Sunny and her mamma
were left to eat their supper of milk, bread and
butter, and eggs \ which they did with great con-
tent. Sunny was not quite so content to go to
bed, but cried a little, till her mamma set the par-
lour door half open, that the firelight might shine
in. Very soon she also crept in beside her little
girl ; who was then not afraid of anvthing.

But when they woke, in the dim dawn, it was
under rather " frightening " circumstances. There
was a noise below, of a most extraordinary kind,
shouting, singing, dancing, — yes, evidently danc-
ing, though at that early hour of the morning.

194 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

It could not have been continued from overnight,
mamma having distinctly heard all the family go
to bed, the children tramping loudly up the stairs
at nine o'clock, after which the inn was quite
quiet. No, these must be new guests, and very
noisy guests, too. They stamped, they beat with
their feet, they cried " whoop ! '' or " hech ! " or
some other perfectly unspellable word, at regular
intervals. Going to sleep again was impossible ;
especially as Sunny, unaccustomed to such a racket,
began to cry, and would have fallen into a down-
right sobbing fit, but for the amusement of going
to the " hole in the wall," to wake her Lizzie.
Upon which everybody rose, the peat fire was
rekindled, and the new day began.

The good folk below stairs must have begun it
rather early. They were a marriage party, who
had walked over the hills several miles, to see the
bride and bridegroom off by the boat.

" Sunny wants to look at them," said the
child, who listens to everything, and wants to have
a finger in every pie.

So, as soon as dressed, she was taken down, and
stood at the door in her mamma's arms to see the
fun.

Very curious " fun " it was. About a dozen
young men and women, very respectable-looking,
and wonderfully dressed, though the women had

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 95

their muslin skirts pretty well draggled, — not
surprising, considering the miles they had trudged
over mountain and bog, in the damp dawn of the
morning, — were dancing with all their might and
main, the lassies with their feet, the lads with feet,
heads, hands, tongues, snapping their fingers and
crying " hech ! " or whatever it was, in the most
exciting manner. It was only excitement of danc-
ing, however ; none of them seemed the least
drunk. They stopped a minute, at sight of the
lady and child, and then went on again, dancing
most determinedly, and as solemnly as if it were to
save their lives, for the next quarter of an hour.

English Lizzie, who had never seen a Highland
reel before, looked on with as much astonishment
as Sunny herself. That small person, elevated in
her mamma's arms, gazed on the scene without a
single smile ; there being no music, the dance was
to her merely a noise and a scuffle. Presently
she said, gravely, "Now Sunny will go away."

They went away, and after drinking a glass of
milk, — oh, what delicious milk those Highland
cows give ! — they soon heard the distant paddles
of the boat, as she steamed in between the many
islands of which this sea is full.

Then mounting an extraordinary vehicle, which
in the bill was called a " carridge," they headed a
procession, consisting of the wedding party walk-

196 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

ing sedately two and two, a young man and young
woman arm in arm, down to the pier.

The married couple were put on board the boat
(together with Sunny, her mamma, and her Lizzie,
who all felt very small, and of no consequence
whatever), then there was a great shouting and
waving of handkerchiefs, and a spluttering and
splattering of Gaelic good wishes, and the vessel
sailed away.

By this time it was broad daylight, though no
sun was visible. Indeed, the glorious sunrises
seemed ended now ; it was a gray, cheerless morn-
ing, and so misty that no mountains could be seen
to take farewell of. The delicious Highland life
was all gone by like a dream.

This homeward journey was over the same route
that Sunny had travelled a fortnight before, and
she went through it in much the same fashion.

She ran about the boat, and made friends with
half a dozen people, for no kindly face is long a
strange face to Little Sunshine. She was noticed
even by the grim, weather-beaten captain (he had a
lot of little people of his own, he said), only when
he told her she was "a bonnie wee lassie," she
once more indignantly repelled the accusation.

" I'm not a bonnie wee lassie. I'm Sunny,
mamma's little Sunny," repeated she, and would
not look at him for at least two minutes.

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 97

She bore the various changes from sea-boat to
canal-boat, etc., with her usual equanimity. At
one place there was a great crush, and they got so
squeezed up in a crowd that her mamma did not
like it at all, but Sunny was perfectly composed,
mamma's arms being considered protection against
anything. And when the nine locks came, she
cheerfully disembarked, and walked along the tow-
ing-path for half a mile in the bravest manner.
Gradually, as amusement began to fail her, she
found several playfellows on board, a little dog
tied by a string, and a pussy-cat shut up in a
hamper, which formed part of the luggage of an
unfortunate gentleman travelling to London with
five daughters, six servants, and about fifty boxes, —
for he was overheard counting them. In the lono-,
weary transit between the canal-boat and the sea,
Sunny followed this imprisoned cat, which mewed
piteously ; and in its sorrows she forgot her own.

But she was growing very tired, poor child !
and the sunshine, which always has a curious
effect upon her temper and spirits, had now
altogether disappeared. A white, dull, chill mist
hung over the water, fortunately not thick enough
to stop traffic, as had happened two days before,
but still enough to make the river verv drearv.

Little Sunshine, too, went under a cloud ; she
turned naughty, and insisted on doing whatever

198 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

she was bid not to do \ climbing in the most
dangerous phices, leaning over the boat's side to
look at the waves : misbehaviour which required a
strong hand and watchful eyes to prevent serious
consequences. But mamma was more sorry than
angry, for it was hard for the little woman ; and
she was especially touched when, being obliged to
forbid some stale, unwholesome fruit and doubtful
" sweeties," over which Sunny lingered and longed,
bv saying " they belonged to the captain," the
child answered, sweetly :

" But if the kind captain were to give Sunny
some, then she might have them ? "

The kind captain not appearing, alas ! she
passed the basket with a sigh, and went down
to the engines. To see the gigantic machinery
turning and turning, never frightened, but only
delio-hted her. And mamma was so thankful to
find anything to break the tedium of the fourteen
hours' journey, that though her little girl went
down to the engine-room neat and clean in a
white pelisse, and came up again looking just like
a little sweep, she did not mind it at all !

Daylight faded ; the boat emptied gradually of
its passengers, including the gentleman with the
large family and the fiftv boxes ; and on deck it
began to grow very cold. Sunny had made ex-
cursions down below for breakfast, dinner, and

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 1 99

tea, at all of which meals she conducted herself
with the utmost propriety, but now she took up
her quarters permanently in the comfortable sa-
loon.

Not to sleep, alack ! though her mamma settled
down in a corner, and would have given anything
for "just one little minute," as Sunny says, of
quiet slumber, but the child was now preternatu-
rally wide-awake, and as lively as a cricket. So
was a little boy, named Willie, with whom she
had made friends, and was on such terms of inti-
macy that they sat on the floor and shared their
food together, and then jumped about, playing at
all sorts of games, and screaming with laughter,
so that even the few tired passengers who re-
mained in the boat, as she steamed up the narrow,
foggy river, could not help laughing too.

This went on for the space of two hours more,
and even then Sunny, who was quite good now,
was with difficulty caught and dressed, in prepa-
ration for the stopping of the boat, when she
was promised she should see papa. But she will
endure any martyrdom of bonnet-tying or boot-
buttoning if only she thinks she is going to meet
her papa.

Unluckily there had been some mistake as to
hours, and when she was carried on deck, in rhe
sudden darkness, broken only by the glimmer of

200 IJITLh SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

the line of lights along the wharf, and plunged
into the midst of a dreadful confusion, — porters
leaping on board and screaming to passengers,
and passengers searching wildly for their luggage,

— no papa was there. To double her grief, she
also lost her mamma, who of course had to see
to things at once herself. Through the noise and
whirl she heard the voice of the child, " Mamma !
mamma ! " It was a cry not merely of distress,

— but agony, with a '' grown-up " tone in it of
actual despair. No doubt the careless jest of
Maurice's papa had rankled in her little mind, and
she thought mamma was torn from her in real
truth, and for ever.

When at last mamma came back, the grasp
with which the poor little girl clung to her neck
was absolutely frantic.

" Mamma went away and left Sunny, — Sunny
lost mamma," and mamma could feel the little
frame shaking with terror and anguish. Poor
lamb ! there was nothing to be done but to take
her and hold her tight, and stagger with her some-
how across the gangway to the cab. But even
there she never loosened her clasp for a minute
till she got safe Into a bright, warm house, where
she found her own papa. Then the little woman
was content.

She had still another journey before her, and

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 20 1

without her papa too. A night journey, which
promised to be easy and comfortable, but turned
out quite the contrary. A journey in which
Sunny's powers of endurance were taxed to the
utmost, so that it will be years before she forgets
the wind-up of her holiday.

Her papa put his family safe in a carriage all to
themselves, and under special charge of the guard.
Then he left them, just settling down to sleep ;
Sunny being disposed of in a snug corner, with
an air-cushion for a pillow, and furry shawls
wrapped about her, almost as cosy as in her own
little crib, in which, after her various changes and
vicissitudes, she was soon to repose once more.

She fell asleep in five minutes, and her mamma,
who was very tired, soon dozed also, until roused
by a sharp cry of fright. There was the poor
little girl, lying at the bottom of the carriage,
having been thrown there by its violent rocking.
It rocked still, and rocked for many, many miles,
in the most dreadful manner. When it stopped
the guard was appealed to, who said it was " the
coupling-chains too slack," and promised to put
all right. So the travellers went to sleep again,
this time Sunny in her mamma's arms, which she
refused to quit.

Again more jolting, and another catastrophe;
mamma and the child finding themselves lying

202 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

both together on the floor. This time Sunny
was much frightened, and screamed violently, re-
pulsing even her mamma.

"I thought you»vv^ere not my ou^n mamma; I
thought you were somebody else," said she, after-
ward, and it was a long time before she came to
her right self and cuddled down ; the oscillation
of the carriage continuing so bad that it was as
much as her mamma could do, by wrapping her
own arms around her, to protect the poor child
from being hurt and bruised.

The guard, again appealed to, declared there
was no danger, and that he would find a more
comfortable carriage at the next stopping-place :
but in vain. It was a full train, and the only two
seats vacant were in a carriage full of gentlemen,
who might object to a poor, sleepy, crying child.
The little party went hopelessly back.

" Perhaps those gentlemen might talk so loud
they might waken Sunny," said the child, sagely,
evidently remembering her experiences of five
weeks ago. At any rate, nobody wished to try
the experiment.

Since there was no actual danger, the only
remedy was endurance. Mamma settled herself
as firmly as she could, making a cradle of her
arms. There, at length, the poor child, who had
long ceased crying, and only gave an occasional

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 203

weary moan, fell into a doze, which ended in quiet
sleep. She was very heavy, and the hours seemed
very long, but still they slipped away somehow.
Nothing is absolutely unbearable when one feels
that, being inevitable, -it must be borne.

Of course nobody slept, except the child, until
near daybreak, when a new and more benevolent
guard came to the rescue, had the coupling-chams
fastened (which, they found, had never been done
at all till now), and lessened the shaking of the car-
riage. Then tired Lizzie dropped asleep too, and
the'' gray morning dawned upon a silent carriage,
sweeping rapidly across the level English country,
so different from that left behind. No more
lochs, no more mountains. No more sunshine
either, as it appeared ; for there was no sign of
sunrise, and the day broke amidst pelting rain,
which kept drip, drip, upon the top of the carriage,
till it seemed as if a deluge would soon be added
to the troubles of the journey.

But these were not so bad now. Very soon
the little girl woke up, neither frightened nor
cross, but the same sunshiny child as ever.

"Mamma!" she said, and smiled her own
beaming smile, and sat up and looked about her.
" It's daylight. Sunny wants to get up."

That getting up was a most amusing affair. It
lasted as long as mamma's ingenuity could possi-

204 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

bly make it last, without any assistance from poor,
worn-out Lizzie, who was left to sleep her fill.
First, Sunny's face and hands had to be washed
with a damp sponge, and wiped with mamma's
pocket-handkerchief. Then her hair was combed
and brushed, with a brush that had a looking-glass
on the back of it ^ in which she contemplated her-
self from time to time, laughing with exceeding
merriment. Lastly, there was breakfast to be got
ready and eaten.

A most original breakfast ! Beginning with a
large pear, out of a basketful which a kind old
gentleman had made up as a special present to
Sunny \ then some ham sandwiches, — from which
the ham was carefully extracted ; then a good
drink of milk. To uncork the bottle in which
this milk had been carried, and pour it into the
horn cup without spilling, required an amount of
skill and care which occupied both mamma and
Sunny for ever so long. In fact, they spent over
their dressing and breakfasting nearly an hour;
and by this time they were both in the best of
spirits, and benignly compassionate to Lizzie, who
slept on, and wanted no breakfast.

And when the sun at last came out, a watery
and rather melancholy orb, not at all like the sun
of the Highlands, the child was as bright and
merry as if she had not travelled at all, and

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY. 20 5

played about in the railway-carriage just as if it
were her own nursery.

This was well, for several weary hours had still
to be passed ; the train was far behind its time ;
and what poor mamma would have done without
the unfailing good temper of her " sunshiny child,"
she could not tell. When London was reached,
and the benevolent guard once more put his head
into the carriage, with " Here we are at last. I
should think you'd had enough of it, ma'am,"
even he could not help giving a smile to the " little
Missy " who was so merry and so good.

In London was an hour or two more of weary
delay ; but it was under a kindly roof, and Sunny
had a second beautiful breakfast, all proper, with
tea-cups and a table-cloth ; which she did not
seem to find half so amusing as the irregular one
in the railway-carriage. But she was very happy,
and continued happy, telling all her adventures in
Scotland to a dear old Scotchwoman whom she
loves exceedingly, and who loves her back again.
And being happy, she remained perfectly good,
until once more put into a " pufF-puff," to be
landed at her own safe home.

Home. Even the child understood the joy of
going home. She began talking of " Sunny's
nursery;" "Sunny's white pussy;" "Sunny's
little dog Rose ; " and recalling all the servants by

206 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

name, showing she forgot nothing and nobody,
though she had been absent so long. She chat-
tered all the way down, till some ladies who were
in the carriage could hardly believe she had been
tra^celling all night. And when the train stopped,
she was the first to look out of the window and
call out, " There's godmamma ! "

So it was ! Sunny's own, kind godmamma,
come unexpectedly to meet her and her tired
mamma at the station ; and oh, they were both
so glad !

" Glad " was a small word to express the per-
fect and entire felicity of getting home, — of find-
ing the house looked just as usual; that the ser-
vants' cheerful faces beamed welcome ; that even
the doggie Rose barked, and white pussy purred,
as if both were glad Little Sunshine was back
again. She marched up-stairs, lifting her short
legs deliberately one after the other, and refusing
to be carried ; then ran into her nursery just as
if she had left it only yesterday. And she " al-
lowed " her mamma to have dinner with her there,
sitting at table, as grand as if she were giving a
dinner-party; and chattering like a little magpie
to the very end of the meal. But after that she
collapsed. So did her mamma. So did her Lizzie.
They were all so dreadfully tired that human na-
ture could endure no more. Though it was still

LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.

207

broad daylight, and with all the delights of home
around them, they went to bed, and slept straight
on, — mamma "all around the clock," and the
child and her Lizzie for fourteen hours !

Thus ended Little Sunshine's Holiday. It is
told just as it happened, to amuse other little peo-
ple, who no doubt are as fond as she is of hearing
" stories." Only this is not a story, but the real
truth. Not the whole truth, of course, for that
would be breaking in upon what grown-up people
term " the sanctities of private life." But there
is no single word in it which is not true. I hope
you will like it, little people, simple as it is. And
so, good-bye !

COSY CORNER SERIES

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall
contain only the very highest and pwrest literature, —
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them-
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with
them in their joys and sorrows, — stories that shall be
most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the
family circle.

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-
known artists, and each volume has a separate attract-
ive cover design.

Each, I vol., i6mo, cloth . . , . , ^0.50

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

The Little Colonel.

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its
heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little
Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an
old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel
proves to be the grandfather of the child.

The Qiant Scissors.

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in
France, — the wonderful house with the gate of The
Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa,
the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is
a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes
shares with her the delightful experiences of the " House
Party " and the " Holidays."

Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON i^Continued)

Two Little Knights of Kentucky,

Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is
not, however, the central figure of the story, that place
being taken by the " two little knights."

Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for
young people, written in the author's sympathetic and
entertaining manner.

Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.

A collection of six bright little stories, which will
appeal to all boys and most girls.

Big Brother.

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of
Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the
theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which
has appealed to so many thousands.

Ole riammy's Torment.

" Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly callea "a
classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mis-
haps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by
love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.

The Story of Dago.

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago,
a pet monkey, owmed jointly by two brothers. Dago
tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mis-
haps is both interesting and amusing.

COSY CORNER SERIES

By EDITH ROBINSON

A Little Puritan's First Christmas.

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child
of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.

A Little Daughter of Liberty.

The author's motive for this story is well indicated by
a quotation from her introduction, as follows :

" One ride is memorable in the early history of the
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another
ride, — untold in verse or story, its records preserved
only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of
Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or
memorable in its consequences."

A Loyal Little Haid.

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler,
renders important services to George Washington.

A Little Puritan Rebel.

Like Miss Robinson's successful story of " A Loyal
Little Maid," this is another historical tale of a real girl,
during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was
governor of Massachusetts.

A Little Puritan Pioneer.

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle

ment at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds

another to the list of favorites so well known to the
young people.

A Little Puritan Bound Girl.

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great
interest to youthful readers.

4 L- C. PAGE AXD COMPANY'S

By OUIDA (Louise de la Ram^e)

A Dog of Flanders : a Christmas Story.
Too well and favorably known to require description.

The Niirnberg Stove.

This beautiful story has never before been published
at a popular price.

A Provence Rose.

A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.

Findelkind.

A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.
By MISS MULOCK

The Little Lame Prince.

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven-
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.

Adventures of a Brownie.

The stor\^ of a household elf who torments the cook
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the
children who love and trust him.

His Little Mother.

Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant
source of delight to them, and " His Little Mother," in
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
of youthful readers.

Little Sunshine's Holiday.

An attractive story of a summer outing. *' Little Sun-
shine " is another of those beautiful child-characters for
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.

COSV CORNER SERIES

By JULIANA HO RATI A EWING

Jackanapes.

A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite
and touching story, dear alike to young and old.

Story of a Short Life.

This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old.
It is a part of tlie world's literature, and will never die.

A Great Emergency.

How a family of children prepared for a great emer-
gency, and how they acted when the emergency came.

The Trinity Flower.

In this little volume are collected three of Mrs.
Ewing's best short stories for the young people.

Madam Liberality.

From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her
chief delight in giving.

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX

The Little Giant's Neighbours.

A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose
neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.

Farmer Brown and the Birds.

A little story v/hich teaches children that the birds
are man's best friends.

Betty of Old Mackinaw.

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to
the little readers who like stories of " real people."

riother Nature's Little Ones,

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or
"childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.

6 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE

The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.

This story, written by the gifted young Southern
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of
ihe many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.

The Fortunes of the Fellow.

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm
of " The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow " will welcome
the further account of the " Adventures of Baydaw and
the Fellow " at the home of the kindly smith among th-^
Green Hills of Tennessee.

By FRANCES HODGES WHITE

Helena's Wonderworld.

A delightful tale of the adventures ^ a littie g^.rl in
the mysterious regions beneath the sea.

Aunt Nabby's Children.

This pretty little story, touched with the simple humo
of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by
Aunt Xabby, have also won their way into the affections
of the village squire

By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT

The Prince of the Pin Elves.

A fascinating story of the underground adventures of
a sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
gnomes.

The Water People.

A companion volum.e and in a way a sequel to " The
Prince of the Pin Elves," relating the adventures of
" Harry" among the "water people." While it has the
same characters as the previous book, the story is com-
plete in itself.

COSV CORNER SERIES

By OTHER AUTHORS

The Flight of Rosy Dawn. By Pau-
line Bradford Mackie.
The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or » Rosy Dawn,"

a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this

pleasant little story.

Susanne. By Frances J. Delano.

This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing
charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E.
Richards.

nillicent in Dreamland. By edna s.

Braixerd.

The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's
adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascmation
of "Alice in Wonderland," and all small readers ot
"Alice" will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance.

Jerry's Reward. By evelyn snead

Barnett.

This is an interesting and wholesome little story of
the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jef-
ferson Square when they learned to know the stout-
hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy.

A Bad Penny. By John T. wheelwright.

No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the
New England of 1812.

Qatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton.

The small hero and heroine of this little story are
twins, "stricUy brought up." It is a sweet and whole-
some little story.

L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

Prince Yellowtop. By kate whiting patch.

A pretty little fairy tale.

The Little Christmas Shoe. By jane p.

Scott-Woodruff.

A touching story of Yule-tide.

The Little Professor. By ida horton

Cash.

A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.

The Seventh Daughter, By grace wick

HAM CURRAN.

One of the best stories for little girls that has been
published for a long time.

The Making of Zimri Bunker : a tale

OF Nantucket. By W. J. Long, Ph. D.

This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a
young clergyman who is already well known through
his contributions to the Yoiitli's Companion, St. Nicho-
las, and other well-known magazines. The story deals
with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of
1812.

The King of the Golden River: a

Legend of Stiria. By John Ruskin.

Written- fifty years or more ago, and not originally
intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon
became known and made a place for itself.

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles

Stuart Pratt.

The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charm-
ing story :

" I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and
perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to
the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as
much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but
who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood."

COSY CORNER SERIES

Rab and His Friends. By Dr John

Brown. . . ,. ,

Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known
to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all.

The Adventures of Beatrice and

Jessie, ^y Richard Mansfield.

The story of two little girls who were suddenly trans-
planted into the " realms of unreality," where they met
with many curious and amusing adventures.

A Child's Garden of Verses. By r.

L. Stevenson.

Mr Stevenson's little volume is too weU known to
need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this
new and attractive edition.

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis.

The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make
many bovs 'thankful thev are not in the same position
Davie's accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and
subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.

The Sleeping Beauty, a modern ver

sioN. Bv Martha B. Dunn. ^ >f • '

This charming story of a litde fishermaid of Maine,
intellectuallv "asleep" until she meets the "Fairy
Prince,'' reminds us of " Ouida" at her best.

The Young Archer. By Charles E. Brim-

BLECOM.

A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accom-
panied Columbus on his voyage to the New World.
His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dan-
gers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the
account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys.

lO L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

The Fairy of the Rhone. By a. comyns

Carr.

Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure
delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by
charming illustrations.

A Small Small Child. By E. Livingston

Prescott.

"A Small Small Child" is a moving littie tale of
sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punish-
ments, upon a rowdy of the barracks.

Peggy's Trial. By Mary Knight Potter.

Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose
rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her sub-
sequent reconciliation to the dreaded " new mother," are
most interestingly told.

For His Country. By Marshall Saunders,

author of " Beautiful Joe," etc.

A sweet and graceful stor}- of a little boy who loved
his country; written with that charm which has endeared
Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.

La Belle Nivernaise. the story of an

'Old Boat and Her Crew. By Alphonse
Daudet.

All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old
favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it
brought to their friendly attention.

Wee Dorothy. By laura updegraff.

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion
of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and
setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning,' the
story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether
wholesome in every way.

BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
The Little Colonel StorieSo By annie

Fellows Johnston.

Being three " Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy
Corner Series, " The Little Colonel," " Two Little
Knights of Kentucky," and " The Giant Scissors," put
into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a
uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the
most popular of juvenile heroines.

I vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, fully illus-
trated $1.50

The Little Colonel's House Party.

By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by

Louis Meynell.

One vol., library i2mo, cloth, decorative "over $1.50

The Little Colonel's Holidays. %

Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by L. J,

Bridgman.

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . $1.50

The Little ColoneFs Hero. By annie

Fellows Johnston Illustrated by E. B. Barry,

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative,

$1.20 ;^^/ (postage extra)

The Little Colonel at Boarding

School. By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illus-
trated by E. B. Barry.

I vol., large i2mo, cloth . $1.20 ;/^/ (postage extra)
Since the time of " Little Women," no juvenile heroine
has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs.
Johnston's " Little Colonel." Each succeeding book has
been more popular than its predece.ssor, and now thou-
sands of little readers wait patiently each year for the
appearance of " the new Little Colonel Book,"

L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

Beautiful Joe's Paradise ; or, the island

OF Brotherly Love. A sequel to " Beautiful Joe."
By Marshall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe,"
•' For His Country," etc. With fifteen full-page plates
and many decorations from drawings by Charles Liv-
ingston Bull.
One vol., library i2mo, cloth decorative,

$1,20 net^ postpaid, ^1.32

" Will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who
read it." — Pittsburg Gazette.

" Miss Saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness
into her story. The book deserves to be a favorite." —
Chicago Record-Herald.

" This book revives the spirit of ' Beautiful Joe' capitally.
It is fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as un-
usual as anything in the animal book line that has seen the
light. It is a book for juveniles — old and young." — Phila-
delphia Item.

'Tilda Jane. By Marshall Saunders, author
of " Beautiful Joe," etc.

One vol, i2mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorai.ve
cover . . . . . . . . $ 50

" No more amusing and attractive child's story has ap-
peared for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of
the adventures of that pitiful and charming httle runaway.

" It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books
that ^^•in and charm the reader, and I did not put it down
until I had finished it — honest I And I am sure that every
one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to
make the acquaintance of the delicious waif.

" I cannot think of any better book for children than this.
I commend it unreservedly." — Cyrtis Toumsend Brady.

The Story of the Graveleys. By mar-
shall SAUxn^^F^s, author of " Bea\itiful Joe's Para-
dise," " 'Tilda J-ime," etc.

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B.
Barry . . , . $1 20 net (postage extra)

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and
triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose
devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to
hear. From the kindly, serene-souled grandmother to
the buoyant madcap, Berty, these Graveleys are folk of
fibre and blood — genuine human beings.

BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

Little Lady Marjorie. By Frances Mar-
garet Fox, author of " Farmer Brown and the
Birds," etc.
i2mo, cloth, illustrated . ^1.20 //^/(postage extra)

A charming story for children between the ages of
ten and fifteen years^ with both heart and nature interest.

The Sandman : his farm stories. By

William J. Hopkins. With fifty illustrations by

Ada Clendenin Williamson.

One vol., large i2mo, decorative cover,

;^i.2o net^ postpaid, $1.38

"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of
children not more than six years old, is ' The Sandman : His
Farm Stories.' It should be one of the most popular of the
year's books for reading to small children." — Buffalo Express.

" Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the
little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this
book a treasure." — Cleveland Leader.

The Sandman : more farm stories. By

William J. Hopkins, author of "The Sandman:

His Farm Stories."

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated,

^i 20 net (postage extra)

Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories has met
with such approval that this second book of " Sandman"
tales has been issued for scores of eager children. Life
on the farm, and out-of-doors, will be portrayed in his
inimitable manner, and many a little one will hail the
bedtime season as one of delight.

A Puritan Knight Errant. By edith

Robinson, author of " A Litde Puritan Pioneer," '« A

Little Puritan's First Christmas," " A Litde Puritan

Rebel," etc.

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated,

$1.20 net (postage extra)

The charm of style and historical value of Miss
Robinson's previous stories of child life in Puritan days
have brought them wide popularity. Her latest and
most important book appeals to a large juvenile public.
The " knight errant " of this story is a litde Don Quixote,
whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove
deeply interesting to their reader.

L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

The Great Scoop. By molly elliot sea-

WELL, author of '• Little Jarvis," " Laurie Vane," etc.
i2mo, cloth, with illustrations . . . $i.oo

A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of
a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed therein.
Every boy with an ounce of true boyish blood in him
will have the time of his life in reading how Dick Hen-
shaw entered the newspaper business, and how he
secured " the great scoop."

Flip's '- Islands of Providence." By

AxNiE Fellows Johnston, author of " Asa

Holmes," '< The Little Colonel," etc.

i2mo, cloth, with illustrations . . * . $r.oo

In this book the author of " The Little Colonel" and
her girl friends and companions shows that she is
equally at home in telling a tale in which the leading
character is a boy, and in describing his troubles and
triumphs in a way that will enhance her reputation as a
skilled and sympathetic writer of stories for children.

Songs and Rhymes for the Little

Ones. Compiled by Mary Whitney Morri-
son (Jenny Wallis).

New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T.
Whitney and eight illustrations.

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . . $i.oo
No better description of this admirable book can be
given than Mrs Whitney's happy introduction :

'* One might almost as well offer June roses with the
assurance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely
little gathering of verse, which announces itself, like
them, by its deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's
charming volume has long been a delight to me, I am
only too happy to link my name with its new and en-
riched form in this slight way, and simply declare that it
is to me the most bewitching book of songs for little
people that I have ever known."

BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 5

PH\TLIS' FIELD FRIENDS SERIES

By LENORE E. AIULETS

Four vols., cloth decorative, illustrated. Sold sepa-
rately, or as a set.

Per volume ...... $0.80 net

Per set $3-2o net

1. Insect Stories.

2. Stories of Little Animals.

3. Flower Stories.

4. Bird Stories.

In this series of four little Nature books, it is the
author's intention so to present to the child reader the
facts about each particular flower, insect, bird, or
animal, in story form, as to make delightful reading of
the facts of science, which the child is to verify through
his field lessons and experiences. Classical legends,
myths, poems and songs are so presented as to correlate
fully with these lessons, to which the excellent illustra-
tions are no little help.

THE WOODRANGER TALES

By G. WALDO BROWNE

The Wood ranger.
The Young Qunbearer.
The Hero of the Hills.

Each I vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative
cover, illustrated, per volume . . . . ^i.oo
Three vols., boxed, per set . . . . $3.00
''The Woodranger Tales," like the "Pathfinder
Tales" of J. Fenimore Cooper, combine historical in-
formation relating to early pioneer days in America witl
interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the
same characters are continued throughout the series,
each book is complete in itself, and while based strictly
on historical facts, is an interesting and exciting tale of
adventure which will delight all boys and be by no means
unwelcome to their elders.

THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES

The most delightful and interesting accounts possible
of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings
doings, and adventures.

Each I vol., i2mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six
full-page illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.

Price per volume . . $0.50 net, postpaid ^0.56

" Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruc-
tion out of Mary Hazelton Wade's Little Cousin Series. . . .
Pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-
away lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd
ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and
playthings. . , . The style of the stories is all that can be
desired for entertainment, the author describing things in 2
very real and delightful fashion." — Detroit News-Tribune,

By MARY HAZELTON WADE

Our Little Swiss Cousin.
Our Little Norwegian Cousin.
Our Little Italian Cousin.
Our Little Siamese Cousin.
Our Little Cuban Cousin.
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.
Our Little Eskimo Cousin.
Our Little Philippine Cousin.
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin,
Ou- Little African Cousin.
Our Little Japanese Cousin.
Our Little Brown Cousin.
Our Little Indian Cousin.
Our Little Russian Cousin.

By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR

0**» Little Chinese Cousin.