Books with author Joanna H. MATHEWS

They were running down one of the broad paths, when Bessie saw an old gentleman coming towards them with a pleasant smile on his face. She stood still to take a second look, and then called to her sister."Oh, Maggie, here's our dear friend, Mr. Hall!""Why, so it is!" said Maggie, in glad surprise, for this was a very unexpected pleasure.Mr. Hall lived but two or three doors from Mr. Bradford, and as he generally came for a walk in the park after his breakfast, Maggie and Bessie were almost sure to meet him when they were out in the morning. But he was not apt to be there in the afternoon, and so they had not looked for him at this time.It so happened that Mr. Hall had stepped out upon his front stoop just as Mrs. Bradford's little flock started for their walk; and there he saw them all going down the street. He put on his hat, took his gold-headed cane, and walked out after them."Mr. Hall, I am very pleased to see you," said Bessie."And so am I, Mr. Hall," said Maggie."And I am very much pleased to see you," said Mr. Hall; "but I should like to know what has become of two little granddaughters of mine, who went away to the sea-shore two months since. I thought I should find them in the park; but in their place I find two little strangers, who have no name for me but Mr. Hall.""Oh, I forgot,—Grandpapa Hall," said Maggie."Dear Grandpapa Hall," said Bessie, "please don't let your feelings be hurt, 'cause we only forgot for one moment. You know it's so long since we saw you.""And did you forget me while you were away?" asked Mr. Hall."Oh, no," said Bessie, "we thinked about you very often, and talked about you too."

Lily Norris' Enemy by Joanna H. MathewsIf Lily Norris isn't just the most provoking child that ever lived!" said Maggie Bradford, indignantly."Yes, I b'lieve she just is," assented Bessie."Why," said Mrs. Rush, who was that day making a visit to Maggie's and Bessie's mamma, "how is this? Lily the most provoking child that ever lived! I thought Lily was one of your best friends, and that you were so fond of her.""Yes, Aunt May, so we are," said Maggie. "We're very fond of Lily indeed; she's one of[10] our dearly beloveds, and we like to have her with us; but for all that, she's very trying to our patience.""Yes," sighed Bessie, "I think she's tryinger than any child we know; and yet she's hardly ever naughty,—really naughty, I mean.""How does she try you?" asked Mrs. Rush, though she believed she could herself have answered as to the cause of complaint."She puts off so," said Bessie. "Aunt May, I think she's the greatest put-offer we ever saw; and sometimes it makes things so hard to bear. We try not to be provoked 'cause we love her so; but sometimes we can't help being a little. I b'lieve it troubles people as much as if she was real naughty in some way.""Yes, procrastination is a very troublesome fault," said Mrs. Rush."Not a fault, is it, Aunt May?" asked Maggie. "I thought it was only a habit of Lily's."

Belle Powers' Locket by Joanna H. MathewsDear little Belle!There she sat, upon a low stool, doll and picture-book lying unheeded at her feet, as she watched the slanting beams of light which streamed in between the crimson curtains and poured life and gladness over all within the pleasant room. There she sat, watching them thoughtfully, yet with a half-smile upon her lips, as they travelled slowly and steadily from spot to spot, now over the carpet, now up the table-cloth, now[10] touching the gilded mirror-frame and making it flash with added brightness, and now falling softly on a vase of lovely flowers and bringing out their brilliant colors in new and more perfect beauty. And now in their noiseless but busy march they fell upon her own little self, the brightest and sunniest thing in all the room, to the loving eyes which watched her."What is my darling thinking of?" asked Mr. Powers, breaking the stillness.In an instant Belle was upon his knee and nestling close to him; but she did not answer his question till it was repeated."What were you thinking of, my daughter?" he asked again, laying his hand fondly on the little round head, with its short, dark rings of hair."About sunbeams, papa," answered the child, turning her eyes again upon the bar of light, which was now quivering and shimmering among and over the prisms of the chandelier above their heads."Ay, they are very pretty," said her father."But it was not about those sunbeams, papa, though they did make the thinking come into my head. It was about being a sunbeam. I would like to be a little sunbeam, papa.""And so you may, and so you are, my darling," said the father. "You are papa's little sunbeam, the brightest sunbeam he has on earth; and his way would be very dark and sad without you.""Yes, papa," said Belle: "you mean I am your comfort, and you are my sunbeam, papa, 'cause you are my comfort; but I was thinking I would like to be a sunbeam to other people too. I wonder if I could. Maggie Bradford says I could."

"NELLIE, will you come down to the beach now?""No!" with as much shortness and sharpness as the little word of two letters could well convey."Why not?""Oh! because I can't. Don't bother me."And, laying down the pencil with which she had been writing, Nellie Ransom pushed back the hair from her flushed, heated face, drew a long, weary sigh, took up the Bible which lay at her elbow, and, turning over the leaf, ran her finger slowly and carefully down the page before her.Carrie stood with one elbow upon the corner of the table at which her sister sat, her chin resting in her palm as she discontentedly watched Nellie, while with the other hand she swung back and forth by one string the broad straw hat she was accustomed to wear when playing out of doors.

"Bessie is a very charming specimen of little girlhood. It is a lovely story of home and nursery life among a family of bright, merry, little children."—Presbyterian."A lively entertaining series, which picture child-life to perfection."—Standard. "We owe to the authoress perhaps the most delightful conception of child-character, under Gospel influences, in all modern juvenile literature."—American Presbyter."The author evidently understands how to write of and for children. There is a simplicity and naturalness of style and incident and religion, of the most attractive and healthful kind."—Christian Instructor.

Bessie in the City by Joanna H. MathewsMAMMA," said Maggie Bradford, as she sat upon the floor in her mother's room, lacing her walking boots,—"mamma, I wish I had another terrible fault.""Why, Maggie!" said Mrs. Bradford."I do, indeed, mamma,—a dreadful fault, something a great deal worse than carelessness."Mrs. Bradford was busy unpacking trunks and arranging drawers and closets; for the family had just come home from the sea-shore, where they had been spending the summer; but she was so surprised to hear Maggie say this that she turned around with her hands full, to look at her little daughter. She saw that Maggie was very much in earnest, and had some reason for this strange wish."And why do you wish that, daughter?" she asked."Because, mamma, if I had such a fault, people would be so very anxious I should cure it. Oh, dear! there's another knot in my shoe-string!" and Maggie gave a jerk and a hard pull at her boot-lace. "I do not at all wish to keep it, only to break myself of it.""But why should you wish for a fault which would grieve your friends and trouble yourself only that you may be at the pains of curing it, Maggie? You have faults enough, dear; and if they are not what may be called very terrible, they are quite serious enough to need all your attention, and you should be thankful that it does not require a harder struggle to overcome them.""I know that, mamma," answered Maggie, with a very grave face; "but then you see if my friends wished me very much to cure my fault, perhaps they would offer me money to do it. You know when I used to be so very, very careless, Grandpapa Duncan paid me for trying to do better, so that I might help earn the easy-chair for lame Jemmy Bent. And I want money very much,—a great deal of it, mamma.""But that would be a very poor reason for wishing to rid yourself of a bad fault, my child. And why do you want so much money? It seems to me that you have everything given to you which a reasonable little girl can want; and besides you have your weekly allowance of six cents."

THE hotel carriage rolled away from Mr. Bradford's door with papa and mamma, the two nurses and four little children inside, and such a lot of trunks and baskets on the top; all on their way to Quam Beach. Harry and Fred, the two elder boys, were to stay with grandmamma until their school was over; and then they also were to go to the sea-side.The great coach carried them across the ferry, and then they all jumped out and took their seats in the cars. It was a long, long ride, and after they left the cars there were still three or four miles to go in the stage, so that it was quite dark night when they reached Mrs. Jones's house. Poor little sick Bessie was tired out, and even Maggie, who had enjoyed the journey very much, thought that she should be glad to go to bed as soon as she had had her supper. It was so dark that the children could not see the ocean, of which they had talked and thought so much; but they could hear the sound of the waves as they rolled up on the beach. There was a large hotel at Quam, but Mrs. Bradford did not choose to go there with her little children; and so she had hired all the rooms that Mrs. Jones could spare in her house. The rooms were neat and clean, but very plain, and not very large, and so different from those at home that Maggie thought she should not like them at all. In that which was to be the nursery was a large, four-post bedstead in which nurse and Franky were to sleep; and beside it stood an old-fashioned trundle-bed, which was for Maggie and Bessie. Bessie was only too glad to be put into it at once, but Maggie looked at it with great displeasure. "I sha'n't sleep in that nasty bed," she said. "Bessie, don't do it.""Indeed," said nurse, "it's a very nice bed; and if you are going to be a naughty child, better than you deserve. That's a great way you have of calling every thing that don't just suit you, 'nasty.' I'd like to know where you mean to sleep, if you don't sleep there.""I'm going to ask mamma to make Mrs. Jones give us a better one," said Maggie; and away she ran to the other room where mamma was undressing the baby. "Mamma," she said, "won't you make Mrs. Jones give us a better bed? That's just a kind of make-believe bed that nurse pulled out of the big one, and I know I can't sleep a wink in it.""I do not believe that Mrs. Jones has another one to give us, dear," said her mother. "I know it is not so pretty as your little bed at home, but I think you will find it very comfortable. When I was a little girl, I always slept in a trundle-bed, and I never rested better. If you do not sleep a wink, we will see what Mrs. Jones can do for us to-morrow; but for to-night I think you must be contented with that bed; and if my little girl is as tired as her mother, she will be glad to lie down anywhere."

LITTLE FRIENDS AT HOME."MAMMA," said Maggie Bradford, as she sat upon the floor in her mother's room, lacing her walking boots,—"mamma, I wish I had another terrible fault.""Why, Maggie!" said Mrs. Bradford."I do, indeed, mamma,—a dreadful fault, something a great deal worse than carelessness."Mrs. Bradford was busy unpacking trunks and arranging drawers and closets; for the family had just come home from the sea-shore, where they had been spending the summer; but she was so surprised to hear Maggie say this that she turned around with her hands full, to look at her little daughter. She saw that Maggie was very much in earnest, and had some reason for this strange wish."And why do you wish that, daughter?" she asked."Because, mamma, if I had such a fault, people would be so very anxious I should cure it. Oh, dear! there's another knot in my shoe-string!" and Maggie gave a jerk and a hard pull at her boot-lace. "I do not at all wish to keep it, only to break myself of it.""But why should you wish for a fault which would grieve your friends and trouble yourself only that you may be at the pains of curing it, Maggie? You have faults enough, dear; and if they are not what may be called very terrible, they are quite serious enough to need all your attention, and you should be thankful that it does not require a harder struggle to overcome them.""I know that, mamma," answered Maggie, with a very grave face; "but then you see if my friends wished me very much to cure my fault, perhaps they would offer me money to do it. You know when I used to be so very, very careless, Grandpapa Duncan paid me for trying to do better, so that I might help earn the easy-chair for lame Jemmy Bent. And I want money very much,—a great deal of it, mamma.""But that would be a very poor reason for wishing to rid yourself of a bad fault, my child. And why do you want so much money? It seems to me that you have everything given to you which a reasonable little girl can want; and besides you have your weekly allowance of six cents.""Yes, ma'am," said Maggie, with another jerk at her boot-lace; "but Bessie and I want to save all our allowance for Christmas. We want to have two whole dollars, so that we can give presents to every one of the family and all the servants and Colonel and Mrs. Rush. And we have told every one that we are going to do it, so it would not be quite fair to take the money for anything else; would it, mamma?""Not if you have promised to spend it in that way," said Mrs. Bradford, with a smile at the thought of how much the two dollars were expected to furnish; "but it is wiser not to make such large promises. You should have been very sure that you wished to spend your money for presents before you said you would do so."CONTENTSLittle Friends at Home.Maggie's Plan.The Miser.Flossy.The Colonel's Story.The Story Continued.The Peach-Stones.The New Gloves.Two Lost Pets.Home Again.New Plans.A Visitor.The Bank-Notes.Discovery.The Snow.Shopping for Christmas.Christmas.The Purchase of the Library.

Bessie at the Sea-Side by Joanna H. MathewsTHE hotel carriage rolled away from Mr. Bradford's door with papa and mamma, the two nurses and four little children inside, and such a lot of trunks and baskets on the top; all on their way to Quam Beach. Harry and Fred, the two elder boys, were to stay with grandmamma until their school was over; and then they also were to go to the sea-side.The great coach carried them across the ferry, and then they all jumped out and took their seats in the cars. It was a long, long ride, and after they left the cars there were still three or four miles to go in the stage, so that it was quite dark night when they reached Mrs. Jones's house. Poor little sick Bessie was tired out, and even Maggie, who had enjoyed the journey very much, thought that she should be glad to go to bed as soon as she had had her supper. It was so dark that the children could not see the ocean, of which they had talked and thought so much; but they could hear the sound of the waves as they rolled up on the beach. There was a large hotel at Quam, but Mrs. Bradford did not choose to go there with her little children; and so she had hired all the rooms that Mrs. Jones could spare in her house. The rooms were neat and clean, but very plain, and not very large, and so different from those at home that Maggie thought she should not like them at all. In that which was to be the nursery was a large, four-post bedstead in which nurse and Franky were to sleep; and beside it stood an old-fashioned trundle-bed, which was for Maggie and Bessie. Bessie was only too glad to be put into it at once, but Maggie looked at it with great displeasure."I sha'n't sleep in that nasty bed," she said. "Bessie, don't do it.""Indeed," said nurse, "it's a very nice bed; and if you are going to be a naughty child, better than you deserve. That's a great way you have of calling every thing that don't just suit you, 'nasty.' I'd like to know where you mean to sleep, if you don't sleep there.""I'm going to ask mamma to make Mrs. Jones give us a better one," said Maggie; and away she ran to the other room where mamma was undressing the baby. "Mamma," she said, "won't you make Mrs. Jones give us a better bed? That's just a kind of make-believe bed that nurse pulled out of the big one, and I know I can't sleep a wink in it.""I do not believe that Mrs. Jones has another one to give us, dear," said her mother. "I know it is not so pretty as your little bed at home, but I think you will find it very comfortable. When I was a little girl, I always slept in a trundle-bed, and I never rested better. If you do not sleep a wink, we will see what Mrs. Jones can do for us to-morrow; but for to-night I think you must be contented with that bed; and if my little girl is as tired as her mother, she will be glad to lie down anywhere."Maggie had felt like fretting a little; but when she saw how pale and tired her dear mother looked, she thought she would not trouble her by being naughty, so she put up her face for another good-night kiss, and ran back to the nursery."O, Maggie," said Bessie, "this bed is yeal nice and comf'able; come and feel it." So Maggie popped in between the clean white sheets, and in two minutes she had forgotten all about the trundle-bed and everything else.When Bessie woke up the next morning, she saw Maggie standing by the open window, in her night-gown, with no shoes or stockings on. "O, Maggie," she said, "mamma told us not to go bare-feeted, and you are."

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Mamie's Watchword - Thou God Seest Me by Joanna H. Mathews"MAMMA! can I have it? Can I, mamma? Buy it for me, buy it; will you, mamma?""May be so, dear. I will see about it.""No, not may be; not see about it, mamma! I must have it, and I know you can afford it!"The speakers were Mrs. Stone and her little daughter Mamie; the scene, Miss Ashton's broad, shady piazza, where, at this time, a little fair was taking place.And what was the object on which Mamie's heart was so set; for which she was begging so persistently, you will ask.Why, just this.A beautiful doll; a famous, much-talked-of doll, dressed as an infant by Miss Annie Stanton, for the fair; a doll eagerly desired by all the children present, as any little girl will readily believe when she hears that seldom has a doll had such an outfit.Mamie's eyes were fixed eagerly upon her as she pleaded and entreated with her mother, holding fast to her hand, and almost dancing in her extreme anxiety to secure the much-coveted prize."Perhaps I can, dear," said Mrs. Stone's rather languid voice, as she looked smilingly down at her little daughter; "perhaps I can afford it; but you know, Mamie, that the doll is to be sold to whoever shall offer the highest price for her.""Well, you offer the highest price for her, mamma; do, oh, do! Offer a great deal more than any one else, so I shall be sure to have her. I want her so!""But it is not to be known what each one offers till the fair is over, Mamie," said her mother; "then, whoever has said they will give the most, is to take the doll.""Ask Miss Stanton to tell you," pleaded Mamie.Mrs. Stone shook her head."That would not be fair, Mamie; and Miss Stanton would refuse to tell if I asked her. I will make an offer for the doll, but you will have to take your chance with the rest, my darling."Mamie was so little used to any opposition or contradiction from her over-indulgent mother that she did not know how to meet it; and, though it was made thus plain to her that it might not be within her mother's power to give her the doll, she felt as though the possibility of disappointment were more than she could bear, and as if it would be altogether mamma's fault if the longed-for toy did not fall to her share.