Year: 1870

STORY FOR RED-HEADED LITTLE GIRLS.


When | was about eight years old, my
mother called me to her one afternoon, to.
see if was hemming nicely handker-
chief she had turned down for Re.-After.
showing me just how to put in my needle.
and exactly how the stitches must look to
be right, she took my hand in hers and
said: What big hand you have!"


"Now, my mothers hands was extreme,
ly small, and always looked white and
delicate, no matter how much or what
work she did and couldn't help feeling
that somehow | was to blame for having
such big hand. Then my feet wers
large, too, and wore out shoes dread
fully. never could walk, but wanted
to jump and run and hop on first one foot
and then the other.


But what was worse than either big
hands or big feet-I had red hair and
freckled face. How should | ever get
through the world with red hair? And
wasn't there something that would take a.
way those dreadful freckles? tried but
termilk, and wheat-bran tea, and cucum-
ber water; but the obstinate freckles stay
ed there, and there remain till this day,
and don't care bit if they do.


The first thing thought of, when l
saw nice little girl, was to notice if her
hands were small, and if she had black
hair and clean skin, and l saw plenty
that answered to this description. But
as grew older, and studied al zebra, and
wrote compositions" and "ciphered in
fractions" found that when the teacher
looked at the exercises on the slate or
blackboard, he never seemed to think
whether the hand was big or little that
made figures and when | got into nat
ural philosophy and astronomy, was not
long in being perfectly satisfied that tho
brains under the hair are of more value
than the hair.


What lovely Ounces 1 have seen, with
glossy black hair and taper fingers, or
moist brown hair and snowy hands, that
always shook their beautiful heads. and
twisted their slender fingers in despair,
because they couldn't answer the questionsi
While they were trying to study their les-
sons, they couldn't help thinking what
Susy told them, what George and Henry
and Willie said about them, or how they
should dress themselves up for walk in
the evening, and make themselves look
pretty.


But, poor me! 1 couldn't make my
self look pretty. My hair would be brash
and red ; air and sunshine only deepened
my freckles, and l gave it up in despair,
But then | resolved to be amiable and
smart. How sorely it tried my temper,
which was trying to cultivate into per-
feet sweetness, to be told ''Mr. So and
so says he prefers the red headed young
LADY," That red-headod girl, she recites
the best


By and by, I grow up. as We say. to
womanhood, and my hair just as red as
ever but the head under the hair was
packed pretty full of knowledge. and the
quick blood, ever ready to dye the cheeks
and brow the color of the hair, had learn
ed to own its mistress, and obey her be-
hest. met tall, handsome young man,
whom everybody praised for his beauty
and his talents. But what could beauty
have to do with me, with hopeless plain
ness? | never dreamed he could forget
the color of my hair, or fail to take notice
of my hands and feet. But he never
seemed to think anything about them; and
when he asked me to be his wife, never
never thought anything about them either.
We have been married good many years,
and have three girls and two boys, not
one of whom is blessed with red hair,
But, 1 think if I had been pretty, I
might have loved dress, and dancing, and
folly. and not have studied my lessons
nearly so hard as did, or loved learning
and excellence of character so much, or
got so handsome, and smart, and good a
husband, or been the happy mother Of
such family of boys and girls.


Now, my little red-heads and freckled
faces, while the pretty little girls are flirt-
ing with the boys and jumping, do you
study; study hard and patiently.