Little Ferns For Fanny's Little Friends Part 11

"I sell it as fast as I can make it," said he, putting on the cover and shoving it back under the bed again.

"What do you do with the b.u.t.termilk?" said I.

He looked at Mrs. Rafferty, and she pointed to the bright, rainbow ribbon on her cap.

"Sell it?" said I.

"Sure," said Michael, with a grin; "we are making money, your ladys.h.i.+p; we shall be afther moving out of this cellar before long, and away from the likes of them," (pointing in the direction of the curtain); "and, savin' your ladys.h.i.+p's presence," said he, running his fingers through his mop of wiry hair, "Irish people sometimes understhand dhriving a thrade as well as Yankees;" and Michael drew himself up as though General Was.h.i.+ngton couldn't be named on the same day with _him_.

Just then a little snarly headed boy came in with two pennies and a cracked plate, "to buy some b.u.t.ther."

"Didn't I tell your ladys.h.i.+p so?" said Michael. "Holy Mother!" he continued, as he pocketed the pennies, and gave the boy a short allowance of the vile stuff, "how I wish I had known how to make that b.u.t.ther when every bone in me body used to ache sawin' wood, and the likes o' that,--to say nothing of the greater respictability of being in the mercantile profession."

Well, well, thought I, as I traveled home, this is high life under ground, in New-York.

"BALD EAGLE;"

OR,

THE LITTLE CAPTIVES.

Do you like Indians? Our forefathers didn't admire them much. They had seen too many scalps hanging at their belts, and had heard their war whoops rather too often, to fancy such troublesome neighbors. They never felt as if they were safe, and wouldn't have thought ever of going to meeting without a loaded musket. I suppose that's the way the fas.h.i.+on originated for men to sit at the bottom of the pews, and women and children up at the other end. The men wanted to get on their feet quickly if a posse of Indians yelled at the door. Ah! men were _men_, then, from the tips of their noses to their shoe-ties; they didn't wear plaid pants, and use perfume and Maca.s.sar, as they do now-a-days.

And the women, too! they were not ashamed to be seen in calico dresses, and did not go about the country making orations and wearing d.i.c.keys. I had rather see an Indian, any time, than such a woman.

Sometimes the men were obliged to go away from home, and then they left a loaded gun where their wives could use it, in case the Indians came while they were absent. The Indians are very cunning. They used to watch their chance; and often, when a man came back to his home, he would find it a pile of smoking ruins, and his wife and children killed, or, what was worse, carried away captives.

You wouldn't have relished living in those days, would you? What do you think you would have done had the Indians come into your door?--scampered under the bed, or seized the gun and defended your mother? It is hard telling, isn't it? I'm very glad you are not obliged to live in such days. The poor Indians had also their story of wrong to tell. G.o.d will judge both rightly.

The sun shone brightly one autumn afternoon into a room where two little children were playing, in a pretty little village in the State of South Carolina. "Robert," said little Nina, to a dark-eyed boy of twelve years, "I'm tired of staying in this unfurnished room; it isn't pretty. Hasn't mother most done baking, Robert? Can't we go into the kitchen? I'm afraid of the Indians, too, without mamma."

Robert took his little sister in his arms, and stroked her little black head, and kissed her cheek, and then he drew himself proudly up, saying, "Nina? Do you see that gun? Well, it is loaded, and I know how to use it."

"Oh, Robert!" said Nina, "hus.h.!.+ Is not that mamma screaming? Oh, Robert, hide me--the Indians--the Indians!"

Robert had just time to seize his gun, when a tall Indian opened the door, and receiving the contents of it in his face, fell, quivering, to the floor.

Bald Eagle, the chief of the party, heard the report of Robert's gun, and rushed in with a dozen Indians. Robert, with his eye flas.h.i.+ng, was standing over the dead Indian, with one arm round his little sister, who was clinging to his jacket.

Bald Eagle admired bravery; so, when the other Indians seized Robert by the hair to tomahawk him, for killing their comrade, he said, "No;--the pappoose is brave enough to make a chief. He shall go home with Bald Eagle and be his son."

The Indians frowned, for they thirsted for somebody's blood. They seized hold of Nina's long curls to kill _her_; but Robert clung to the old chief's knees, and, though he didn't think much of girls or women, Bald Eagle said, "She shall live--to please the boy."

The Indians lowered their tomahawks, for they didn't dare to disobey Bald Eagle, and led Nina and Robert out of the house, which had been set on fire and was beginning to burn.

As they pa.s.sed the kitchen door, Nina gave a loud scream, for there lay her mother, across the threshold, quite dead. The old chief lifted his tomahawk, frowning at her fiercely from beneath his nodding plume, and Robert whispered, "Hush, Nina, or they will kill you, too;" and Nina stifled her sobs, and permitted the Indians to lead her away.

What a weary, weary march they had of it, through the forest; and how Nina shrunk when the Indians lifted her up to carry her in their arms; how she looked imploringly at Robert, and how he smiled and nodded, and tried to make her feel as if he would protect her always. How frightened she was when Bald Eagle tied a cord to Robert's hands every night, and fastened the end of it to his wrists before he went to sleep; and how she used to lie awake and look at those grim old Indians, sleeping there on their blankets, and think of her mother, till it seemed as though G.o.d must be dead, or such wicked men wouldn't be alive.

After many, many miles had been traveled over, they reached the Indian camp, where the squaws and pappooses and old men lived. The old squaws walked round Nina, and turned her about, and then they gave her some food which she couldn't eat, because she wanted to cry so much; and they gave her a blanket, to wrap round her, and taught her how to sew beads on bags and moccasins, and put a pair of pewter earrings in her ears, and combed her hair all back, and named her "The Little Fawn,"

and tried to make a little Indian of her.

Bald Eagle was very fond of Robert. He named him "The Young Eagle;" and gave him a bow and arrow, and a gun; and took him out hunting; and every time he shot a bird, or wounded a deer, he would pat him on the head and say: "Good,--by and by scalp the pale faces."

Robert never contradicted Bald Eagle, but appeared as if he were quite contented, and tried to shoot as well as he could, to please him; and so Bald Eagle gave him much more liberty to run about, and thought every thing he did was about right.

But Robert had a great many thoughts pa.s.sing in that little head of his, that Bald Eagle knew very little about. He couldn't look at Nina's little pale, sorrowful face without resolving to get away as soon as he could. It made his heart ache to see her wrapped in that ugly blanket, sitting there sewing beads, instead of learning to read and spell and write; and whenever he got a chance he would whisper something in her ear that would make her smile, and nod her little head, and press his hand confidingly.

Bald Eagle had a brother-in-law named "Winged Arrow," because he could run so fast. He was a white man that had been taken captive by the Indians some years before, and had married Bald Eagle's sister. Robert liked him,--perhaps, because he was a pale face; perhaps, because he thought he might pity him and Nina enough to help them get away some time; so, he used to stay all he could with Winged Arrow, and bring him game that he shot; and Nina worked a pair of moccasins for his squaw; and Winged Arrow was a very good friend to them.

One day he and Robert were out hunting together, and Robert told him how much he wanted to get away with Nina; and then Winged Arrow told him that he was getting tired of Indian life, too; and that very soon there was to be a hunting party, when all the Indians would go away for two days, leaving Nina and Robert with the squaws and some old chiefs, and that he (Winged Arrow) was to go, too. But he said that he would pretend to hurt his foot just as they started, so as to be left behind; and then he would manage to get away with Nina and Robert.

Robert didn't jump up and down and clap his hands;--no; he had lived among the Indians too long for that; he just nodded, as gravely as if he were sitting with Bald Eagle over a council fire, and they separated and went into the wigwam.

Well, the hunting day name, and Winged Arrow managed to get left; and after the Indians had all gone, Nina, who sat making moccasins, asked the old squaw to let her play with Robert outside the wigwam. At first, she said no; but Winged Arrow said he would watch them; so she gave them leave.

They played about some time, running in and out of the wigwam, and then going off, gradually, farther and further. By and by Winged Arrow joined them, and getting out of sight, he caught Nina in his arms, and made good his name never stopping to breathe till they were miles and miles away from the encampment.

Toward nightfall of the second day, they halted for a few minutes, when a dog bounded past them, that belonged to the tribe. Winged Arrow knew that unless the dog was instantly killed, he would run back and betray them. He did not dare to shoot him with his rifle, on account of the noise; so he told Robert to fire an arrow at him; and then Winged Arrow knocked him in the head with his gun, and hid him under the bushes.

Then Winged Arrow put his ear to the ground and listened; then he caught up Nina and ran (telling Robert to follow) till they came to a stream in which they all waded for some distance, to throw their followers off the trail. Then Winged Arrow stepped out and put Nina up in a great tree, and Robert and he got up in another. Before long Bald Eagle and several other Indians came along, listening and peeping, and finally halted under the very trees where they were; and some of the Indians proposed building a council fire and staying there all night, but Bald Eagle objected; so they rested a while and then moved on.

You may be sure that the children were in a dreadful fright, and very glad, when they came down, to be on the Indians' trail, instead of having them on theirs.

Winged Arrow made up his mind to take the children to Charleston, where the American army was; so, they traveled cautiously on, not meeting any more Indians, till they reached the American camp in safety.

Robert and Nina were so glad to get among white people again, even though they were strangers. The General was very kind, and promised to protect them.

It was not long before Bald Eagle found them out. He really loved Robert, and was quite determined to have him back. When he saw him again, although he was an Indian, he almost cried for joy.

The General asked Robert if he wished to go back with Bald Eagle.

Robert put his arms around Nina and said, "No!" Bald Eagle looked very sorrowful, but the General wouldn't let him have the children; so he had to go away home, to his old squaw, without 'em.

Winged Arrow found kind friends who gave him some work to do, and he and Robert and Nina lived together very happily. You never would have guessed, had you seen Nina in her little calico dress and white ap.r.o.n, with her curls hanging about her face, that she had ever made moccasins, or worn a blanket in an Indian wigwam.

As to Robert, if your father could have heard his speeches, he wouldn't have been sorry that "a chief" was spoiled, to make a lawyer.

A STREET SCENE.

I was taking a walk, some mouths since, when I saw a carriage driving at a furious rate over the pavements. Inside was a woman, with a handkerchief bound under her chin, spotted with blood, and in her lap a little girl with her arm in a sling, and drops of blood upon her collar and face.