A LEAF FROM LITTLE PILGRIM'S DIARY.


 


 


I THINK Aunt Harriet is splendid, but I do wish she wouldn't look at me so. It's such a cool, calm, superior kind of a face when I get to running on, that it drives me nearly wild. Of course, I know she wouldn't burn the strawberry syrup, and stick up her bare arms and dress, and pour a few boiling-hot drops on one foot, as I did. She would walk into the kitchen with calm dignity and a spotless white apron, which she would never soil in the least; and she would wave round those capable arms of hers a few times, and walk out, leaving ever so many cans of splendid-looking fruit on the table. Ah me!


 


"What was it today? she said, looking that way at me, and petting Gyp, who always jumps into her lap.


"'Oh, it was papa's breakfast, and the children to send to the picnic with clean faces and hands, and a handkerchief and a lunch-box apiece.'


"'And you couldn't go?'


"Why, of course not,' I said.


"Then two pecks of strawberries came that had been ordered yesterday, and they are just done. And mamma has been alone a long time.'


"She didn't speak right away, and that look all went out of her face.


"Finally she said, ' The little pilgrim finds her road hot and dusty today.'


"I would have given my new kid gloves to cry, only I knew there was nothing to cry for. Father might have cried, with all his business worry— and mamma. By the way, I felt sure it was the business that got into mamma's head; but why should I cry because I had to take mamma's place a single day?


"'Come sit by me, little girlie. Why not? I want to tell you about the shady places and springs of water provided for pilgrims.'


"'I shall cry, if I come; and I won't cry,' I said.


And then I did cry with all my might. But, somehow, she wrapped me up in her big arms so comfortably that I could stop very soon.


"Tell me about the shadow and the springs, auntie,' I said.


"Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.  And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought; and thou shalt be like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.'


"'But, auntie,' I said, and stopped.


"Yes?'


"'Those verses are ever so nice, but I don't feel any cooler.'


"'You haven't stepped into the shadow; you have only looked at it. Just as your mother watches and cares for little Joey, your heavenly Father has this day cared for you.'


"Today?' I said, wonderingly. I had not thought of that." 'Today. Sometimes Joey has to pick up his playthings. What a grievous, pitiful, heart-broken time it is, until his face lights up, and he says, "Mamma does love Joey." He has stepped under the shadow of her wing then.'


"Then Aunt Harriet told me how sure she was that God was watching over the business troubles and mamma's headache and us just here and now.


And I did feel cool and refreshed.


"'I think mamma's nurse is ready for her now,' she said, as she rose to go.


"'Yes,' I said, 'I don't feel like the charioteer any more. The drive is gone out of me,—and I guess Satan, too,' I couldn't help adding. And that brought back the look again. It almost drove me out of the shadow, but I would not go. And I have been so happy ever since. Mother's head is better, the children are home and put to bed, and I don't feel nervous, only tired and quiet." "He giveth His beloved sleep."


 


 


 


The Well-Spring.