The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1872-11-21
FANNY FERN.
A Noble WOman's Lovers

Hearth and Home says: Once upon
. time, when little country girl
came to New York to make her first
visit, her first thought was TO manage
to get a directory and look out the
\ number of certain house. She for
got for the time the park, the stores,
the pictures, the theAter, but stole off
quietly, looking up the names of the
streets until she found the right one,
/ then pursued it until she came to a
broWn-stone house, whose windows
were all thrown open, where flowers
were blooming on the windOw-ledges,
and canary singing gaily in a gild-
( ed cage. Walking rapidly on until
she saw the number, II knew it"
she said, delightfully."-. "Of course her
home wouldn't look like the rest. It's
/ just like her. She always said she
liked flowers and birds and air and
sunlight"
The little girl walked up one side,
down the other, paced backward and
| forward, watching the windows.
Presently lady came to one, bent
over a rose in bloom, gathered a few
leaves and disappeared. The little
girl had stood perfectly still, watching
her with eager eyes, and when the
lady was gone she started back to neF
hotel with a feeling of satisfaction,
and yet filed with longing.
"Where have you been wandering
4 through the streets of this great city
alOne?" was the inquiry.
'1've been to see where Fany Fern
lived, and saw her too; she came to
her window. She lives in a big brown
house, with the windows all open,
and the rest of the people have theirs
all closed. L knew it was her house,
| too, before l got there. The birds and
/ flowers told me she lived there. On
1 do wish l could go to see her! But
then I'd just be like any other little
girl to her, and of course she can't see
/ them all"
After that, whenever the little girl
came to the city, she went over and
/ Yslked before those windows. When
she was on Broadway half its attrac-
/ tions were missed, for she had heard
that there the bold, free step and gen.
/ ial manner of Fanny Fern often dis
| tinguished her from the crowd of
promenaders, and so she fruitlessly
kept her watch, but never accomplish.
ed her desire.
! Finally the word came, Fanny Fern
| is dead. 1t seemed that it could not
| be so. Death, and the Fanny Fern
the children knew, SO bright, so low
/ ing and so gay, seemed far apart. AZ
/ ter the sad news she who had paced
up and down before that cheerful
house a little girl retraced her steps.
/ The blinds were down, the emblems
of mourning draped the door, but the
flowers still bloOmed upon the ledges.
/ AS she walked up and down how viv-
( idly came up before her that bright
sunny afternoon, and the lady bend
| ing So tenderly over her flowers
She remembered, too, what heav-
en- of delight was opened to her in that
dreary age of childish literature, when
one. Christmas morning she drew
/ from out her mothers long stocking
Little Ferns for Fanny's Little
/ Friends" Who ever so entered into
children's sympathies and feelings be-
/ fore? Morals were thrown to the
winds. Indeed, Fanny seemed to
hate them as much as the children
did. But, instead, every childish leaf
thrown off by her happy pen breathed
the purest, largest morality. Child
ren'5 hearts expanded under her
words like buds under the warm sun
light. Love was the fruit of every
line. The world never seemed so fair
before, nor earth so delightful, as
when she drew her sunny pictures.
The vision of that Floating Island,
green to the waters edge, in which
she wished to gather all the children
and make life beautiful and bright for
them, haunted my childish dreams.
wouldn't it ever be ?n To-day even
it is remembered with a sigh of re-
gret. Every child who read "Little
Ferns" felt the beating of her great
warm, loving heart.
There was love that could inclOse
every little waif. Ranks and condi-
tiOns were unknown. The starveling
from Five Points, grimy with dirt and
STEPPED in vice, showed to her His
possible good; the little, grinning, ma
ked negro was a child, and therefore
heir to her love.
No impressions of common brother
hood, no realization that we are all
children of the one Father, have ever
been experienced comparable to those
awakened by the pathetic little
sketches that caused our hearts to
ache with sorrow and glow with love
for Door little unfortunates. Nor was
it that patronizing condescensiOn OF
pity for the poor that taints our Older
philanthropy.
1t is a great thing to so impress the
minds of children, to I'LL them with
beautiful thoughts, to inspire them
with universal love, and to lift them
above all that is petty and unworthy
Such impressions are lasting, and to.
day the world is brighter, happier and
better that there once lived upon il
Fanny Fern.