Difference between revisions of "Volume III. The Mother CHAPTER 6."

Latest revision as of 21:08, 18 November 2012

Back to Volume III. The Mother

The Birthday Party.

"Next Saturday is Marien's birthday, Aunt Mary," said Mrs. Hartley. "She will be just eleven years old, and she must have a party."

"She mustn't have any such thing, Anna. What nonsense!"

"Why do yon call it nonsense?"

"It will only be putting silly notions into her head. You would do a great deal better take the money it would cost, and give it for some charitable purpose."

"Take care, Aunt Mary, or I shall retort upon you," said Mrs. Hartley, smiling.

"You can retort as much as you please. I'll warrant you can find no fooleries like giving parties to little misses, when they had better be in their beds — to charge upon me."

"Perhaps not. But that giving of the money for charitable purposes, is what I would like to say a word about. Last week you bought a new satin coat, and gave three dollars a yard for the satin. Why didn't you buy one of good warm cotton, and give the balance to some charity? Answer me that, Aunt Mary!"

"I am not going to be catechized by you, Miss Pert — so just hold your tongue," was Aunt Mary's reply, made half in anger and half in playfulness.

"Very well. So the matter of the charity is all settled — and now what have you to say against the party to Marien, considered upon its abstract merits?"

"A great deal. It will be filling the child's head with vain and wicked thoughts — thoughts of mere worldly show and pleasure. No doubt you will dress her and the rest of them up like puppets to make them as proud and vain as Lucifer himself! Other people will send their children here dressed out and costumed just like them. And then, what a nice little Vanity Fair you will have. It is a downright sin and shame, Anna, for you to think of such a thing! It isn't only your children that are injured, but you tempt other people to injure theirs also!"

"God grant that neither my children nor the children of my friends may ever be subjected to worse influences than they will be under at Marien's party," said Mrs. Hartley, with some warmth.

Just then, Clarence came bounding into the room, singing so loud as to drown the voice of Aunt Mary, who had commenced a reply.

"Do hush, you noisy fellow!" she said, fretfully, "You are enough to make anyone crazy!"

The boy did not seem to regard the words of his aunt any more than he would the passing wind. But when his mother said, softly, "Clarence." and looking him in the face, he was instantly quiet.

Aunt Mary noticed the effect of the mother's low-voiced word in contrast with her own peevish complaint, and it annoyed her so much that she would not trust herself to utter what she was about saying.

"Next Saturday is Marien's birthday," said the mother, as Clarence came up to her side and leaned against her.

"Is it?" and the boy looked intently in his mother's face.

"Yes. She will be just eleven years old. And she must have a party."

"O, yes!" said Clarence in a quick, animated voice, clapping his hands together. "Marien is a good girl, and she shall have a party."

"You love Marien, don't you, Clarence?"

"Yes, mother."

"Why do you love her?"

"Because she is so good. Everybody lores her."

"Because she is good?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't you like everybody to love you?"

"Yes, mother. But I can't be good like Marien."

"Why?"

"I don't know — but I can't."

"What will you do at Marien's party?"

"I will dance with all the little girls, and be as kind and good to them as I can."

"Who shall be invited?"

"All the children we know, except Tom Peters and Sarah Jones."

A frown gathered upon the boy's face as he uttered these names.

"Why not invite them, Clarence?"

"Because I don't like them."

"Why don't you like them?"

"Tom threw stones at me the other day, and Sarah called me a rude ugly boy."

"Why did Tom throw stones at you?"

Clarence was silent.

"Perhaps you did something to him."

"I only laughed at him because he fell down."

"Did he ever throw stones at you before?"

"No."

"You were always good friends."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you were first in the wrong. You provoked him to throw stones at you."

"I only laughed at him, and I couldn't help it. He fell in the mud, and soiled his clothes all over."

"I don't think that was anything to laugh at. Suppose Marien had been in your place? What do you think she would have done? Would she have laughed at him?"

"No, I am sure she wouldn't."

"What would she have done?"

"I suppose she would have gone to him, and brushed all the dirt from his clothes, and told him that she was very sorry he had fallen down."

"You said just now that Marien was a good girl."

"And so she is."

"And that you loved her because she was good."

"So I do."

"Were you good when you laughed at Thomas Peters?"

"I don't think I was."

"Would he throw stones at Marien?"

"No, indeed. Nobody would throw stones at her. Everybody loves her."

"It is plain then, that it was because you were not good, that Thomas Peters threw stones at you. He did not throw stones at good Clarence, but at bad Clarence. Is it not so? Now don't you think you can forgive him, when you remember how you provoked him. Suppose you had fallen in the mud, and he had laughed at you — would not you have been just as likely to have thrown stones at him?"

"Maybe I would."

"Suppose the good Lord would not forgive us for all the evil we do — what do you think would become of us? And he will not forgive us, unless we forgive others their trespasses against us. Remember that, my dear boy. You will have Thomas invited, I am sure."

"Yes, mother; for I believe I was wrong," the boy replied in a softened tone. "And we will invite Sarah Jones too. I don't believe she would have called me what she did, if I had not run against her little brother and pushed him down. She loves Marien, and I know would be very sorry if she couldn't come to her party."

"That is right, my boy. To forgive is sweet. You feel happier now, don't you?"

"I don't hate Tom Peters like I did."

"You didn't hate him of yourself, my son. But you allowed wicked thoughts to come into your heart, and you felt the hatred they bear towards everyone. I am glad that they are cast out. Whenever we permit them to come into our hearts, they make us very unhappy. If we suffer not the evil thoughts to come into us, good thoughts will be our companions, and they will make us love everyone."

"They must always be with sister Marien then; for she loves everybody."

"They will always be with you, if you will let them, my son. Will you not try?"

"I do try, mother. But I am so bad, that the thoughts won't stay with me."

"What nonsense to talk in that way to children!" said Aunt Mary, as Clarence, hearing the voice of his sister, glided away to talk to her about her party.

"I believe that all I have said to be true," Mrs. Hartley returned.

"True! They are a mere fiction!"

"Not quite so much of a fiction as you may think. But we will not hold an argument on that subject, for it would be of no use. I think, however, that you will admit that, if Marien's party effects no more good than you have just seen done, it will be well worth giving."

"We are not to do evil — that good may come." And Aunt Mary pursed up her lips, and looked as grave as a deacon.

Mrs. Hartley smiled, but made no further observation.

All was merriment and glad anticipation, when it became known among the children that Marien was to have a birthday party. Preparations for it were set on foot immediately, and invitations in due form made out, and sent around to all of her little friends. When the evening came, some twenty or thirty bright young faces were seen in the parlors of Mr. and Mrs. Hartley. Among the number were Thomas Peters and Sarah Jones, and it was a pure gratification to Mrs. Hartley to see Clarence take the former by the hand with manly frankness, and speak kindly to the latter, when they came in. His eye caught the expression of her face at the time. It warmed his heart — nay, impressed it ineffaceably. He remembered it even in manhood, with pleasure.

The evening was a merry one for all. Even Aunt Mary forgot, more than half of her time, the little objection she had to "profane music," and dancing. Such romping and wild, happy merriment as was there, is not often seen. Mrs. Hartley was among them as if but a child herself, and seemed to enjoy it as much as the gayest little urchin of the whole company. But, while she appeared to enter into the sports of the children as if one of them, she guided all their movements, and maintained a beautiful order throughout all. The ardent temperaments of the older children were restrained by modes not seen nor felt by them, while the younger ones she interested in various ways, which kept them together, and protected from the thoughtless rudeness of their elders. Not a string jarred in harsh discord during the whole evening. When the hour came for separation, a hundred kind wishes were uttered for Marien, and they all parted happier and better than when they came.

"I don't know how they can be better," said Aunt Mary, to whom Mrs. Hartley made a remark on the next day, similar to what we have just uttered.

"It is because they love one another more," Mrs. Hartley replied, in her usual quiet way.

It is good thus to bring children together often. It creates and cherishes social feelings, and causes them to regard one another less selfishly than all are inclined to do. The spirits of children are active, and will flow out in spite of all that may unwisely be done to restrain them. It is the duty of parents to provide good forms into which these can flow, and find their delight. Can anything be more suitable than social recreations, in which many can join together in innocent mirth? We think not. And so thought Mr. and Mrs. Hartley. It was for this reason that the birthday of every child was celebrated by some kind of festivities.