Wauwatosa News

The Uninvited Guest.

"Keep within the house, Betsey, and
look well to the doors and windows. Be
busy with the apples. 'T will be but
play for a smart wench to get them done
before night: and, when they are all
strung, the spinning wheel stands
ready."
Such were the parting words of Hannah Doten, as she climbed into the wagon with her son Jonathan, and set forth
to market, with thirty pounds of fresh
butter and the first new potatoes of the
season. On the potatoes lay a gun, for
those were the days when Indians lurked
near white men's homes, and when wild
beasts disputed the land with the newcomers.
The house to which Betsey Doten
turned as her mother drove away, was
a log cabin on a green bank by a brook-
side, Green fields and woods surrounded it, and as far as the eye could reach,
no other house was to be seen. Small
wonder, then, that Betsey rejoiced today in having a companion--her cousin Lucy,
whose welcome presence would rob the
tedious hours of half their length.
"It would be a stout arm that could
force that door," said Lucy, merrily, as
Betsey swung the thick door to its place,
and laid the bars across. She was fastening the heavy window shutters when
Lucy exclaimed:
"Prithee, child, why make it a prison?
Leave this window open. My father
says there is little to fear in broad daylight. He thinks the Indians have passed
us by this time: and, if they were coming, we know night is their time, of a
surety. Hurry and get the pot boiling.
and then let me show you the new purse
stitch. I learned it from Desire Bradford, when I was in Plymouth. Her
cousin brought it from England. As for
the apples, never fear but we will cut
them in a twinkling by and by."
So Betsey made the stew, and left it
to cook in the big iron kettle that hung
over the fire, and, seating herself beside
Lucy, gave a willing mind to the mysteries of the new stitch. Suddenly Lucy
laid down her needles and put her curly
head through the window.
"See, Betsey," she said, "how blue the
sky is! I cannot breathe here. Come out
a bit, and let us look for the berries that
you say grow on the hillside. They will
make a pretty sauce to our dinner."
For a moment Betsey hesitated, for
she remembered her mother's command
to stay within doors, but Lucy was her
guest and not to be lightly refused. Besides, in her secret heart, she, too, longed for a run in the open air. The dark,
close room was so dismal this bright
morning! So, having another stick on
the fire she put her misgivings in her
pocket along with her knitting, and, taking a pail, the two girls sallied forth.
"Ah, Betsey!" said Lucy, as they toiled
up the hill where the berries grew thickest and sweetest, "you should see the
spinet in my aunt's drawing room! And
sweetly she plays it, too. There is but
one thing I like better than to hear it.
and that is to sit in her chamber and
look at the beautiful silk frocks and the
crimson velvet mantle wrought with silver. When I beg to look at them, she
spreads them on the bed, with the laces
and high-heeled slippers and silk stockings. When I see them, I wish we were
all in England, where maidens wear such
things, and keep their hands white and
soft to play the spinet."
Betsey looked at her little red hands,
rough with working hard indoors and
out, and cut, and hid them beneath her apron.
For a moment she silently echoed Lucy's
wish. Then, looking around on the rich
green fields and thick woods, she said:
"I would like to see England, but me-
think I like this land too well to leave
it. London would stifle me, and I should
long for the sweet air of home. But,
truly, those clothes whereof you speak
must be marvelous fine. Prithee, let me
hear more tales."
Had Lucy's stories been less fascinating it might have been easier for Betsey
to go back to the house of which her
mother had left her to be the little mistress. But Betsey did not have an opportunity every day to hear of new silk
gowns and balls and parties and all the
delightful things that a girl with grown-
up sisters at home and an aunt in Boston could tell. So the two girls loitered on
the hillside, heedless how high the sun
was climbing, till at last they recognized by sure signs the near approach of dinner time, and turned homeward.
Laughing and chatting gaily, they approached the house, when suddenly, to
their horror, they saw that a large bear
had made his way through the open door
and was standing by the fire with his
nose over the savory kettle. Lucy
dropped her pail of berries and would
have screamed but for Betsey's quick
hand over her mouth. Cautiously they
crept around the house to the open window and there, with frightened faces and
wildly-beating hearts, they stood and
gazed at the intruder. The bear, which
was an unusually large one, was apparently hungry, for he seemed to find the
inviting odor of the dinner quite to his
mind. It was easy to see that his dull
brain was struggling with the difficulties of the situation. Indeed, he appeared to
have already made advances to the hot
kettle, for he stood on three legs, holding the fourth carefully above the floor.
Suddenly, a thought seized Betsey. It
was but a step: the thing was worth trying. Without a word to Lucy, she ran to
the barn, and soon returned with a pitch-
fork. Leaning forward through the open
window, with one swift motion, she
dashed the cover of the kettle to the
floor, letting the steam arise in a fragrant cloud, straight into Bruin's face. He
drew back instantly, and with a fierce
growl, terrible to hear, ran out of the
house and down the road.
"Quick, Lucy," said Betsey; and they
darted into the house. It was but the
work of a moment to bar the door and
window: and through a loophole they
watched the bear, as he turned into the
woods and disappeared.
"O Betsey! What if he had seen us
when we were picking berries." said
Lucy, sitting down in the middle of the
floor and beginning to cry.
Betsey said nothing. But the thought
uppermost in her mind was that she was
glad he had not; for, if she was going to
be eaten by a bear, she would rather be
minding her mother when she did it. Betsey had filled two bowls from the great
kettle, and put them on the table, with a
brown loaf and a dish of cold stirred
thought before Lucy had finished wiping her eyes
Dinner proved very comforting: and, before they had half finished, they were
frolicking around the room, mimicking the clumsy gait of the bear, and seeing which could growl the louder.
Suddenly Betsey grew serious. The
bear will eat the cows," she said in dismal tones.
The three cows were pastured on the
hill; and, if the bear made a meal of
them, what would become of Mrs. Dotten's butter money and all the good
things it brought? Furthermore, Betsey's own pet cow, Queen Elizabeth, was not
to furnish a supper for any bear if her
young mistress could prevent it
"I'm going after the cows," said Betsey, firmly.
"The bear will eat you if you do," said
Lucy as firmly.
"No, he won't. He went the other
way, and he won't come back in a hurry
But maybe there are two. You must
stay here, Lucy, and take care of the
house, and let mother in when she comes
back."
Betsey looked at the corner where the
guns were kept, for in those days girls
knew how to load a gun and fire it. But
one of them her mother had, and the
other her father always took when he
went for a long day's work in the field.
She must trust to the pitchfork once
more.
As Betsey ran down the path, Lucy's
face grew very long. She did not like
bears, and she did not like to think that
she had enticed Betsey out to pick berries when her mother had told her to
stay in the house. When she thought of
Betsey going off alone so bravely, she
felt very much dissatisfied with herself.
"Well," she thought, "I'm a poor slip
beside Betsey, but, perhaps, if a body isn't made strong and bold, there won't be so
much expected. There's one thing I can
do: I can cut apples." And, taking a
knife and a needle, she began on the pile of apples in the corner, paring, slicing
and stringing the pieces on long strings,
according to Mrs. Doten's parting directions.
Betsey did not meet the bear that was
fond of hot kettles, nor any other bear.
She found her cows, brought them home,
fastened them in their places, shut the
barn door and that was all. But it is
not alone what happens but what we
dread, as well, that makes cowards of
us: and I think barefooted Betsey Doten, trudging along to meet a possible
danger which never came, was as brave
as if the bear had suddenly popped out
from behind a tree, as he might have
done any minute. Betsey was perfectly
satisfied to have no second encounter:
and when her father praised her for taking such good care of the cows and her
mother came home safe, glad to find the
apples done and a hot supper waiting,
she felt that her day had not been a
failure, after all.
"I'd give a barrel of butternuts to
meet that bear with my gun," said Betsey's brother, Jonathan.
"When can we
go for him, father?"
It certainly was not convenient to have
a bear quite so much at home: for cows
must be pastured and women must carry butter to market. So very soon the
farmers had a bear hunt, "and Jonathan
Doten had a new bearskin coat that winter.-Fanny A. Comstock in Christian
Register.