Stories to Explain them. 31 recall the dreamer to the every-day duties that lay around her. But in vain ; that which lay at her feet had become commonplace and distasteful to the child, and only the distant and untried had power to attract. There were plenty of real joys in Leny's home,—to use Ida's words, numbers of sweet songsters, and fair ones too, around her; but to her it seemed that only 'Far-off birds had fair feathers.' Such was the state of affairs, when a letter came from an uncle of Leny's, a brother of her mother's, proposing that, as Leny was now of an age to profit by the instruction of masters, she should come and reside for a year with him, and go to school along with his children, some of whom were about her own age. Grandmamma would rather have kept Leny with herself for a year or two longer; but thinking, under the circumstances, it would be as well that she should associate more with other children, and also be subjected to school discipline, she consented to the plan, though it must be confessed it pained her to see the joy with which the child hailed the idea of going amongst strangers. The conversation we have described took place within a few days of Leny's departure; and, despite her joy, as the time drew near, the child's heart grieved at leaving the familiar scenes and her loved friends. The very excitement of preparing for her journey forced her to leave off her day-dreams; and a long, serious conversation with grandmamma impressed the child, and made the old lady seem dearer to her than ever she had been. On the morning of her departure, every nook of the lovely garden, and all her favourite resorts, were visited and wept over, and never had home and its belongings appeared as bright as they did that day; so true is it, 'that our blessings brighten as they take their flight from us, or we take flight from them.' The good-byes were over, and Leny had stepped into the carriage which was to bear her to the railway station, where she was to meet her uncle. 'Good-bye once more,' said grandmamma; 'God bless and keep you, my child! Go where you like, He is always near;' and Leny was off into the world she had so longed for, to prove for herself the truth of Ida's proverb, that Far-off birds have fair feathers.' 6 Arrived at the station, a sharp-looking, active gentleman sprang to the carriage, saying: 'Are you Leny Bruce ?' and on being answered in the affirmative, lifted her down the steps as if she were a child, and hurried her off, saying sharply that they had almost lost the train through her want of punctuality. Captain Foley was not an unkind person, only sharp and determined, exacting perfect and prompt obedience from every member of his house. Leny, unaccustomed to gentlemen, thought her uncle's quick, abrupt manner, harsh, and was so afraid of him, that she answered his numerous questions tremblingly, and almost below her breath. Arrived at his house, he introduced his niece to her cousins, five in all, three girls and two boys-Kitty, Mary, and Lizzie, Walter and Jamie. The girls were all rather older than herself; the two boys a good deal younger. She got a kindly welcome from all; but as she laid her head that night on the pillow, she longed, oh! so much, to be once more at her dear home with grandmamma and old nurse. Months had passed; Leny and her cousins were no longer strangers to one another, but still less were they friends. The girls were all fully occupied at lessons, or in play-hours taken up with their own amusements and companions. True, they were not unkind to Leny, but she was not needed by them; and Leny, despite her good resolution, had not tried to conciliate them, or showed any desire to join in their amusernents. Never accustomed to the steady routine of lessons which was carried on in her uncle's house, Leny fretted under the restraint; the governess complained, the masters shook their heads despairingly over Leny's half-learnt lessons, her aunt was Stories to Explain them. 33 vexed, her uncle angry, and many of Leny's play-hours were spent in disgrace in her own room. A party of pleasure, long looked forward to by Leny, in which they were to visit several sights in the town, and, greatest delight of all, spend some hours in the Zoological Gardens, had been fixed for a particular Saturday; when, that very morning, a note was placed in Captain Foley's hands, on reading which he retired to his study, and desired Leny to follow him. Tremblingly she went, for her fear of her uncle had never abated, and well she knew she too often deserved his anger. He looked truly grieved as she entered. 'Leny, Leny,' he said, in a tone which told of sorrow as well as anger. 'What am I to do with you? Another letter of complaint. See here,' and he showed her a note of remonstrance from her French master, regarding her badly said lessons. 'Leny, have you any excuse to make for yourself?' No, Leny had none. She stood silent, scarcely listening to her uncle's just reprimand, not showing any symptoms of sorrow even when she heard the order given to go to her room and remain there all day. Poor Leny! her heart was very full, and conscience whispered that the blame was all her own. The idle habit of dreaming was the cause of all her unhappiness. Disappointed in the fancied bliss of her new home, she had begun to dream again of some other imaginary abode of joy. It was the old story-present duties and also present pleasures lost sight of in anticipation of some visionary joy to come. Then the same belief, that the 'Far-off birds had fair feathers.' Leny had sat some time disconsolately in her room. She had heard the carriage drive off with her cousins, but no tears fell; only one great longing desire filled her heart, to be once again with her dear grandmamma in her quiet home. A gentle knock at the door roused her. A sweet, well-known voice said: In an instant Leny was in the arms of her friend Ida Lee, sobbing as if her heart would break, partly from shame at being found in disgrace, and partly from very joy at seeing a well-known face. Ida let her weep on, then gently drew from her all the story of the last few months. Very gently Ida showed the sobbing child her fault, and reminded her of Him in whose strength she could overcome all her errors. There was much to talk of; and Leny's heart smote her as she heard how dull grandmamma, nurse, and Ida had been without her. Her eyes were opening now to her sin of discontent, and it was with a blushing face she confessed to Ida the failure of all her hopes, and how, instead of being useful to any one in her uncle's house, she had proved a burden and a trouble to them. 'Oh, Ida, all you said was true! It was just discontent that made me wish to leave my happy home.' From the day of Ida's visit, Captain and Mrs. Foley marked with joy the change in Leny. The idle dreaming was given up; and, her full attention once bestowed on her lessons, it was found that Leny's abilities were good, and she made rapid progress in all her studies; and, in performing the duty that lay at hand, Leny became both happy and useful, though her heart longed still for the love and affection lavished on her in her own home. Two years had elapsed. It was a beautiful summer day, and the flowers and trees were in full beauty in Mrs. Bruce's old-fashioned garden; bees were humming about, and from every bush birds were singing merry songs, when a carriage stopped, and Leny Bruce jumped out, joy beaming in her face. Very warm was the welcome she received. Grandmamma's heart was full of joy at once more receiving her child, and nurse stood speechless with wonder at the change that two years had effected on her darling, Ida Lee was there also. 'Oh, grandmamma,' said Leny, 'how glad I am to come home again! and how beautiful-how very beautiful-it is here!' And the happy girl stood admiring the whole scene. It was with much pleasure that all Leny's friends noticed her improvement. The spirit of discontent had fled; the vague longing for some undefined far-off good had ceased; and Leny became a sunbeam in her home, and no longer complained that she could be of no use there. Sometimes Ida would jokingly ask her if she still believed in the old proverb, that 'Far-off birds have fair feathers,' and Leny would playfully answer: 'Yes, I quite believe it, Ida, as long as they are far off; but 'tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and I have learned to admire the feathers of those that are at hand, and given up fretting for those far off.' 'Yes,' said grandmamma, 'Leny has learnt the great lesson which God alone can teach us, "To be content with such things as we have."' 'One by one thy duties wait thee, Give thy whole heart unto each; Let no future dreams elate thee, Learn thou first what these will teach.' CONTENTMENT. DAY by day the little daisy M. H. |