THE STORY OF SIX GIRLS by Mary A. Barr

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 21, 1881

THE STORY OF SIX GIRLS.

By Mary A. Barr

LISTEN, girls, and I will tell you a tale that is quite true.

One day, many years ago, six pretty girls were sitting under a cherry-tree. The long grass was sweet and warm, and they pushed it to and fro with their small feet; and as they talked they ate ripe cherries, or blew the dandelion heads, or watched the little white clouds that drifted over the orchard.

Now in the tree and just above their heads was a bird's nest, and in the nest some little brown birds. And the birds leaned over the nest and watched the girls; and the girls smiled at the little bare, eager heads, and said they thought "a bird's life must be a very happy one."

Suddenly one of the birds spread its little half-fledged wings, and with a twittering song of triumph flew from the nest to a swaying branch that was a full yard away. "Oh! I know what he sang!" cried one of the girls whose name was Fanny. "He said: 'Oh! what a stupid little hole that nest is. How much nicer is this branch. And some day, no doubt, I shall be able to fly even to the big tree that stands in the meadow.'"

"That was his song, girls. I know it was, because my heart keeps saying just the same thing—how stupid is the old farm-house and the sleepy village, where one day follows another and every day is the same. When I am a woman, I will see all the wonderful countries in the world. I will go to China and Brazil. I will see Negroes at the Equator and white bears at the North pole."

"Oh! how terrible," said gentle little Annie, and she lifted her blue eyes like a frightened baby. "There is no place in the world so safe and sweet as this valley. I shall marry Willy Smith, and we will have a farm and a lovely house full of pretty furniture, and a garden full of sweet flowers, and a clean, cool dairy—"

"Certainly, little Miss Stupid, and make butter and cheese to the end of the chapter," added the stately Julia, with a pout and a touch of contempt. "I shall do nothing of that kind, you may depend upon it. I shall marry a soldier, and he shall be so brave that he will soon be made a general. I shall buckle on his sword and send him away to fight his country's battles. A really high-minded girl can only love a soldier."

"Oh! what nonsense," said the fair, dreamy Emma, as she lowered her eyes from the clouds to Julia's handsome face. "I think fighters are very common people. I shall give my affections to a great scholar; one of those people who make discoveries and invent things. Any savage can fight. I shall marry a philosopher. I don't care how poor he may be nor even how ugly."

"Ugly! what an idea," and beautiful Kate clasped her hands in an attitude of horrified deprecation. "An ugly man is an ugly man, even if he have the wisdom of Solomon. Think of a husband with red hair, or a squint, and a squat figure! When I am a woman, I shall marry a handsome man and dress very elegantly, and go to balls and parties. Will not that be best, Mary?"

Then Mary lifted her shy, brown eyes, and said: "I hope I shall always be loved. I hope I shall always have some one to take care of me, and hide me away from the great, cruel world. Brother John is not rich, nor handsome, nor clever; but he is true and kind, and that seems as if it was sufficient."

Then the girls were silent, and lay still and dreamed out their plans and the birds twittered above them and the evening shadows fell. The mother's voice called them; and they went in and sat down at one dear home-table, and said their prayers under the same safe, sheltering roof.

And the years passed by, and this is how the dreams under the cherry-tree came true.

Fanny's wings were early clipped. She forgot all about China and Brazil, and was quite contented with the hundred acres that she called her own. She kept the cleanest house in the village, and took the prize for butter at the State fair. She made excellent bread and pies, and kept everything in such order that not even her turkeys dared to lay out of the special boxes provided for them.

And poor timid Annie married a soldier, and went away with him to some wild territory; and was cut to pieces, with her three pretty babies, by the Indians.

And the proud Julia, who thought to dwell in camps and go through life to the sound of trumpets and the shout of battle, married a meek little man, who kept a country store. Instead of buckling on her husband's sword, she helped him to measure molasses and weigh out tea and coffee; and what is more, she really seemed very happy in doing it.

After all, her fall was scarcely so great as Emma's; for the little girl who had dreamed of a philosopher and a scholar, married a coarse, ignorant old man, for his money. All her noble hopes vanished, science and poetry knew her no longer, and she wrapped her soul up in a dollar bill.

Poor, beautiful Kate! Yes, she married her handsome man; but alas! his beauty did not provide her with elegant clothes nor take her to balls and parties. He was too handsome to work, and his silky curls and fine figure brought her nothing but sorrow and poverty. She was very glad when he went away, one day, and left her to fight the world alone.

And what of Mary? surely, she, who only asked for love, got what she wished. Ah! my dear girls, she asked for the dearest and rarest and sweetest thing in life. But love comes to those who can give love for love, and Mary's heart was satisfied; and, though love could not hide her away from the storms of life and sorrow, it made her brave and strong, so that troubles went away with a smile and losses left her richer in what she prized more than gold.

Now, dear girls, generals, philosophers, travels, and gold will not come at your bidding; but love will win love, and love is set above the storms of life, and you may be sure that

"They who win a true, true heart Get gear enou', get gear enou'."

Mary A. Barr, in Independent.