Mountain-Laurel and Maidenhair by Louisa May Alcott
by asking in a tone which hadunconsciously grown more respectful since this last revelation ofBecky's abilities,--
"If you do so well here, why don't you try for a larger school in abetter place?"
"Oh, I couldn't leave mother yet; I hope to some day, when the girls areolder, and the boys able to get on alone. But I can't go now, forthere's a sight of things to do, and mother is always laid up withrheumatism in cold weather. So much butter-making down cellar is bad forher; but she won't let me do that in summer, so I take care of her inwinter. I can see to things night and morning, and through the day she'squiet, and sits piecing carpet-rags and resting up for next spring. Wemade and wove all the carpets in the house, except the parlor one. Mrs.Taylor gave us that, and the curtains, and the easy-chair. Mother takesa sight of comfort in that."
"Mrs. Taylor is the lady who first came to board here, and told us andothers about it," said Emily.
"Yes, and she's the kindest lady in the world! I'll tell you all abouther some day, it's real interesting; now I must see to my pies, and getthe vegetables on," answered Becky, glancing at the gay clock in thekitchen with an anxious look.
"Then I won't waste any more of your precious time. May I sit in thatpretty place; or is it your private bower?" asked Emily, as shedismounted from the wash-bench.
"Yes, indeed you may. That's mother's resting place when work is done.Father made the spring long ago, and I put the ferns there. She can't gorambling round, and she likes pretty things, so we fixed it up for her,and she takes comfort there nights."
Becky bustled off to the oven with her pies, and Emily roamed away tothe big barn to lie on the hay, enjoying the view down the valley, asshe thought over what she had seen and heard, and very naturallycontrasted her own luxurious and tenderly guarded life with this othergirl's, so hard and dull and narrow. Working all summer and teaching allwinter in that dismal little school-house, with no change but home caresand carpet-weaving! It looked horrible to pleasure-loving Emily, wholed the happy, care-free life of girls of her class, with pleasures ofall sorts, and a future of still greater luxury, variety, and happiness,opening brightly before her.
It worried her to think of any one being contented with such a meagreshare of the good things of life, when she was unsatisfied in spite ofthe rich store showered upon her. She could not understand it, and fellasleep wishing every one could be comfortable,--it was so annoying tosee them grubbing in kitchens, teaching in bleak school-houses amongsnow-drifts, and wearing ugly calico gowns.
A week or two of quiet, country fare and the bracing mountain air workedwonders for the invalid, and every one rejoiced to see the pale cheeksbegin to grow round and rosy, the languid eyes to brighten, and thefeeble girl who used to lie on her sofa half the day now go walkingabout with her alpenstock, eager to explore all the pretty nooks amongthe hills. Her mother blessed Mrs. Taylor for suggesting this wholesomeplace. The tired "school marms," as Emily called the three young womenwho were their fellow-boarders, congratulated her as well as themselveson the daily improvement in strength and spirits all felt; and Beckyexulted in the marvellous effects of her native air, aided by mother'sgood cookery and the cheerful society of the children, whom the goodgirl considered the most remarkable and lovable youngsters in the world.
Emily felt like the queen of this little kingdom, and was regarded assuch by every one, for with returning health she lost her fretful ways,and, living with simple people, soon forgot her girlish airs andvanities, becoming very sweet and friendly with all about her. Thechildren considered her a sort of good fairy who could grant wishes withmagical skill, as various gifts plainly proved. The boys were herdevoted servants, ready to run errands, "hitch up" and take her to driveat any hour, or listen in mute delight when she sang to her guitar inthe summer twilight.
But to Becky she was a special godsend and comfort, for before the firstmonth had gone they were good friends, and Emily had made a discoverywhich filled her head with brilliant plans for Becky's future, in spiteof her mother's warnings, and the sensible girl's own reluctance to bedazzled by enthusiastic prophecies and dreams.
It came about in this way. Some three weeks after the two girls met,Emily went one evening to their favorite trysting-place,--Becky's boweramong the laurels. It was a pretty nook in the shadow of a great graybowlder near the head of the green valley which ran down to spread intothe wide intervale below. A brook went babbling among the stones andgrass and sweet-ferns, while all the slope was rosy with laurel-flowersin their time, as the sturdy bushes grew thickly on the hill-side, downthe valley, and among the woods that made a rich background for thesepink and white bouquets arranged with Nature's own careless grace.
Emily liked this spot, and ever since she had been strong enough toreach it, loved to climb up and sit there with book and work, enjoyingthe lovely panorama before her. Floating mists often gave her a constantsuccession of pretty pictures; now a sunny glimpse of the distant lake,then the church spire peeping above the hill, or a flock of sheepfeeding in the meadow, a gay procession of young pilgrims winding up themountain, or a black cloud heavy with a coming storm, welcome because ofthe glorious rainbow and its shadow which would close the pageant.
Unconsciously the girl grew to feel not only the beauty but the value ofthese quiet hours, to find a new peace, refreshment, and happiness,bubbling up in her heart as naturally as the brook gushed out among themossy rocks, and went singing away through hay-fields and gardens, andby dusty roads, till it met the river and rolled on to the sea.Something dimly stirred in her, and the healing spirit that haunts suchspots did its sweet ministering till the innocent soul began to see thatlife was not perfect without labor as well as love, duty as well ashappiness, and that true contentment came from within, not from without.
On the evening we speak of, she went to wait for Becky, who would joinher as soon as the after-supper chores were done. In the little cavewhich held a few books, a dipper, and a birch-bark basket for berries,Emily kept a sketching block and a box of pencils, and often amusedherself by trying to catch some of the lovely scenes before her. Theseefforts usually ended in a humbler attempt, and a good study of anoak-tree, a bit of rock, or a clump of ferns was the result. Thisevening the sunset was so beautiful she could not draw, and rememberingthat somewhere in Becky's scrap-book there was a fine description ofsuch an hour by some poet, she pulled out the shabby old volume, andbegan to turn over the leaves.
She had never cared to look at it but once, having read all the best ofits contents in more attractive volumes, so Becky kept it tucked away inthe farther corner of her rustic closet, and evidently thought it a safeplace to conceal a certain little secret which Emily now discovered. Asshe turned the stiff pages filled with all sorts of verses, good, bad,and indifferent, a sheet of paper appeared on which was scribbled theselines in school-girl handwriting:--
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL
My bonnie flower, with truest joy Thy welcome face I see, The world grows brighter to my eyes, And summer comes with thee. My solitude now finds a friend, And after each hard day, I in my mountain garden walk, To rest, or sing, or pray.
All down the rocky slope is spread Thy veil of rosy snow, And in the valley by the brook, Thy deeper blossoms grow. The barren wilderness grows fair, Such beauty dost thou give; And human eyes and Nature's heart Rejoice that thou dost live.
Each year I wait thy coming, dear, Each year I love thee more, For life grows hard, and much I need Thy honey for my store. So, like a hungry bee, I sip Sweet lessons from thy cup, And sitting at a flower's feet, My soul learns to look up.
No laurels shall I ever win, No splendid blossoms bear, But gratefully receive and use God's blessed sun and air; And, blooming where my lot is cast Grow happy and content, Making some barren spot more fair, For a humble life well spent.
"She wrote it herself!"--PAGE 23.]
"She wrote it herself! I can't believe it!" said Em
ily, as she put downthe paper, looking rather startled, for she _did_ believe it, and feltas if she had suddenly looked into a fellow-creature's heart. "I thoughther just an ordinary girl, and here she is a poet, writing verses thatmake me want to cry! I don't suppose they _are_ very good, but they seemto come right out of her heart, and touch me with the longing and thepatience or the piety in them. Well, I _am_ surprised!" and Emily readthe lines again, seeing the faults more plainly than before, but stillfeeling that the girl put herself into them, vainly trying to expresswhat the wild flower was to her in the loneliness which comes to thosewho have a little spark of the divine fire burning in their souls.
"Shall I tell her I've found it out? I must! and see if I can't get herverses printed. Of course she has more tucked away somewhere. That
"If you do so well here, why don't you try for a larger school in abetter place?"
"Oh, I couldn't leave mother yet; I hope to some day, when the girls areolder, and the boys able to get on alone. But I can't go now, forthere's a sight of things to do, and mother is always laid up withrheumatism in cold weather. So much butter-making down cellar is bad forher; but she won't let me do that in summer, so I take care of her inwinter. I can see to things night and morning, and through the day she'squiet, and sits piecing carpet-rags and resting up for next spring. Wemade and wove all the carpets in the house, except the parlor one. Mrs.Taylor gave us that, and the curtains, and the easy-chair. Mother takesa sight of comfort in that."
"Mrs. Taylor is the lady who first came to board here, and told us andothers about it," said Emily.
"Yes, and she's the kindest lady in the world! I'll tell you all abouther some day, it's real interesting; now I must see to my pies, and getthe vegetables on," answered Becky, glancing at the gay clock in thekitchen with an anxious look.
"Then I won't waste any more of your precious time. May I sit in thatpretty place; or is it your private bower?" asked Emily, as shedismounted from the wash-bench.
"Yes, indeed you may. That's mother's resting place when work is done.Father made the spring long ago, and I put the ferns there. She can't gorambling round, and she likes pretty things, so we fixed it up for her,and she takes comfort there nights."
Becky bustled off to the oven with her pies, and Emily roamed away tothe big barn to lie on the hay, enjoying the view down the valley, asshe thought over what she had seen and heard, and very naturallycontrasted her own luxurious and tenderly guarded life with this othergirl's, so hard and dull and narrow. Working all summer and teaching allwinter in that dismal little school-house, with no change but home caresand carpet-weaving! It looked horrible to pleasure-loving Emily, wholed the happy, care-free life of girls of her class, with pleasures ofall sorts, and a future of still greater luxury, variety, and happiness,opening brightly before her.
It worried her to think of any one being contented with such a meagreshare of the good things of life, when she was unsatisfied in spite ofthe rich store showered upon her. She could not understand it, and fellasleep wishing every one could be comfortable,--it was so annoying tosee them grubbing in kitchens, teaching in bleak school-houses amongsnow-drifts, and wearing ugly calico gowns.
A week or two of quiet, country fare and the bracing mountain air workedwonders for the invalid, and every one rejoiced to see the pale cheeksbegin to grow round and rosy, the languid eyes to brighten, and thefeeble girl who used to lie on her sofa half the day now go walkingabout with her alpenstock, eager to explore all the pretty nooks amongthe hills. Her mother blessed Mrs. Taylor for suggesting this wholesomeplace. The tired "school marms," as Emily called the three young womenwho were their fellow-boarders, congratulated her as well as themselveson the daily improvement in strength and spirits all felt; and Beckyexulted in the marvellous effects of her native air, aided by mother'sgood cookery and the cheerful society of the children, whom the goodgirl considered the most remarkable and lovable youngsters in the world.
Emily felt like the queen of this little kingdom, and was regarded assuch by every one, for with returning health she lost her fretful ways,and, living with simple people, soon forgot her girlish airs andvanities, becoming very sweet and friendly with all about her. Thechildren considered her a sort of good fairy who could grant wishes withmagical skill, as various gifts plainly proved. The boys were herdevoted servants, ready to run errands, "hitch up" and take her to driveat any hour, or listen in mute delight when she sang to her guitar inthe summer twilight.
But to Becky she was a special godsend and comfort, for before the firstmonth had gone they were good friends, and Emily had made a discoverywhich filled her head with brilliant plans for Becky's future, in spiteof her mother's warnings, and the sensible girl's own reluctance to bedazzled by enthusiastic prophecies and dreams.
It came about in this way. Some three weeks after the two girls met,Emily went one evening to their favorite trysting-place,--Becky's boweramong the laurels. It was a pretty nook in the shadow of a great graybowlder near the head of the green valley which ran down to spread intothe wide intervale below. A brook went babbling among the stones andgrass and sweet-ferns, while all the slope was rosy with laurel-flowersin their time, as the sturdy bushes grew thickly on the hill-side, downthe valley, and among the woods that made a rich background for thesepink and white bouquets arranged with Nature's own careless grace.
Emily liked this spot, and ever since she had been strong enough toreach it, loved to climb up and sit there with book and work, enjoyingthe lovely panorama before her. Floating mists often gave her a constantsuccession of pretty pictures; now a sunny glimpse of the distant lake,then the church spire peeping above the hill, or a flock of sheepfeeding in the meadow, a gay procession of young pilgrims winding up themountain, or a black cloud heavy with a coming storm, welcome because ofthe glorious rainbow and its shadow which would close the pageant.
Unconsciously the girl grew to feel not only the beauty but the value ofthese quiet hours, to find a new peace, refreshment, and happiness,bubbling up in her heart as naturally as the brook gushed out among themossy rocks, and went singing away through hay-fields and gardens, andby dusty roads, till it met the river and rolled on to the sea.Something dimly stirred in her, and the healing spirit that haunts suchspots did its sweet ministering till the innocent soul began to see thatlife was not perfect without labor as well as love, duty as well ashappiness, and that true contentment came from within, not from without.
On the evening we speak of, she went to wait for Becky, who would joinher as soon as the after-supper chores were done. In the little cavewhich held a few books, a dipper, and a birch-bark basket for berries,Emily kept a sketching block and a box of pencils, and often amusedherself by trying to catch some of the lovely scenes before her. Theseefforts usually ended in a humbler attempt, and a good study of anoak-tree, a bit of rock, or a clump of ferns was the result. Thisevening the sunset was so beautiful she could not draw, and rememberingthat somewhere in Becky's scrap-book there was a fine description ofsuch an hour by some poet, she pulled out the shabby old volume, andbegan to turn over the leaves.
She had never cared to look at it but once, having read all the best ofits contents in more attractive volumes, so Becky kept it tucked away inthe farther corner of her rustic closet, and evidently thought it a safeplace to conceal a certain little secret which Emily now discovered. Asshe turned the stiff pages filled with all sorts of verses, good, bad,and indifferent, a sheet of paper appeared on which was scribbled theselines in school-girl handwriting:--
MOUNTAIN-LAUREL
My bonnie flower, with truest joy Thy welcome face I see, The world grows brighter to my eyes, And summer comes with thee. My solitude now finds a friend, And after each hard day, I in my mountain garden walk, To rest, or sing, or pray.
All down the rocky slope is spread Thy veil of rosy snow, And in the valley by the brook, Thy deeper blossoms grow. The barren wilderness grows fair, Such beauty dost thou give; And human eyes and Nature's heart Rejoice that thou dost live.
Each year I wait thy coming, dear, Each year I love thee more, For life grows hard, and much I need Thy honey for my store. So, like a hungry bee, I sip Sweet lessons from thy cup, And sitting at a flower's feet, My soul learns to look up.
No laurels shall I ever win, No splendid blossoms bear, But gratefully receive and use God's blessed sun and air; And, blooming where my lot is cast Grow happy and content, Making some barren spot more fair, For a humble life well spent.
"She wrote it herself!"--PAGE 23.]
"She wrote it herself! I can't believe it!" said Em
"Shall I tell her I've found it out? I must! and see if I can't get herverses printed. Of course she has more tucked away somewhere. That