The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1881-11-24
Our Young People
Mammals Darling little Baby.

Mammals Darling little Baby.
Oh, but it was hot. A Septem-
Der day, and the sun shining down
as if August had just begun. Ber-
tina in the lane, half a mile from her
mothers house, had scratched her
arm and torn her dress, and was
just as warm as she thought it pos
sible for a girl to be, yet she picked,
picked, picked away. She had an
object. Tomorrow was to be the
wonderful excursion up the river, to
spend the day on a lovely island,
and it would cost twenty five cents
to go; unless Bertha picked and
sold berries enough to amount to
twenty-five cents there would be
no excursion for her; for, however
willing her mother might be, TWEEN
ty-fye cent pieces were by no
means as thick as blackberries, but
had to be worked hard for. The
basket on Bertha's arm was nearly
half full; she calculated that it
would have to be quite fnll, in or
der to make sure of the twenty-five
cents. So she worked away.
"Hark what was thatY Bertha
stops with handful of berries half
way to her pail and listens; a long,
loud, wailing cry from a baby voice.
Down went the basket under the
bushes, and the picker started in the
direction of the cry. Sure enoughi
there was little blue-eyed, golden
haired, white dressed, kid-slippered
baby, looking ready to die with
WEAKNESS and grief.
"Who are you" asked Bertha, in
a wondering yet gentle voice.
Use mammals little darling ba-
by" sobbed the blue-eyed wonder.
Il should think you were. Where
is mammal"
''Baby don't know; baby wants to
go to mamma" And here began
another most pitiful wall
''Oh, dear mer' said Bertha. 81
almost know you belong to the peo-
pie at the hotel" That was a sum
mer boarding house fully two miles
away, right in the broiling sun, and
it was easy to calculate that by the
time Bertha got there with her lit
tie charge and tramped back again,
there would be no more time for
picking berries that night. She
must go home and get tea for moth
er, who was out ironing all day; and
after tea there was Carrie to put to
bed and Ned to look after. No
wonder she drew such a heavy sigh;
she had very few excursions.
Baby might wait until 1 fill my
basket" she said, doubtfully. Then
[ would take her home.'
But one thought of the distrac-
ted mother who was probably hur-
rying through the world for her ba-
by, and one more look at the tear
stained face of the poor, tired baby, |
decided for her
''Here goesr' she said, bravely. !
excursion or no excursion. mann
mas little darling baby must be
got home, right straight of. Now,
baby, don't cry, and away you shall
go on horseback; 1 as good as
know that you belong to the new
bOarders down there
STOPPING down, she lifted the |
tired darling in her arms, fastened |
the old sun umbrella in such a way
as to shade her head, and started.
Wasn't it hot? and wern't those long
miles that stretched between her
and the hotel? Oh, but what
shout of welcome greeted her, as the
1rive, and a mother, bare-headed
md with drawn face and frightened
eyes, held out her arms, and little
darling baby hoped into them.
Perhaps you think Bertha's basket,
almost half full of berries, was lost?
Not bit of it. A fine coachmau,
n livery, got down from the ele-
CANT carriage and went to get it,
While Bertha herself set back among
he soft cushions and watched him,
nd played that she was Cinderella
IN her way to the hall. Perhaps
'Ou think she did not go on the ex s
All! but she did, and the
cents that paid her pas
age was taken out of a small shin i
ng fivedollar gold piece that y
mammals little darling baby" her /
elf put into Bertha's hand. The Q
tile girl who had brayely given up O
er pleasure to help the frightened U
ably had a hundred fold reward =
The Pansy.