M.A.C.

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GREAT-AUNT PATIENCE AND HER LITTLE LION.

“What relation is she to me?” said black-eyed Fred, as he heard his mother say that her Aunt Patience was coming to visit them.

“She is your great-aunt,” said mamma; “and I want you and Bertie to be very polite to her.”

The little boys had heard their mamma say that Aunt Patience was “a lady of the old school,” and that she was afraid the children would trouble her, as they were not quite so still as the little boys and girls used to be forty or fifty years ago.

So Fred and Bertie stood somewhat in awe of this Great-Aunt Patience; and when the dear old lady arrived, and papa and mamma went to the cars to meet her, the two boys were watching rather timidly for the carriage, at the parlor-windows.

As she came up the steps, leaning on papa’s arm, little Bertie exclaimed, “Oh, see, Freddie! she is not great at all:  she is as little as a girl.”

“Yes, and she laughs too,” said Fred; “and her eyes are as blue as mamma’s, and her hair as white as a snowdrift.”

Just then, the driver took off a strange-looking thing from the carriage, and brought it up the steps.  It was an old-fashioned trunk, covered with stiff, reddish-brown hair.  The boys had never seen a hair trunk, and it seemed to them, at the first glance, more like some kind of an animal than a trunk.

Before they had a chance to examine it, their mamma called them to come and kiss their aunt, which they did very politely, as they had been directed.  But her sweet face won their hearts at once; and Bertie exclaimed, “Oh, you are not a big Patience:  you are a little good Patience, I know; and I am not a bit afraid of you!”

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“Bless your little heart, dear! what has mamma been telling you to make you afraid of me?” said auntie with a merry laugh.

As soon as they could get away, the boys ran up stairs to see what the driver had carried to their aunt’s room.  Fred discovered what it was as soon as he opened the door; but Bertie, who was not yet four years old, was greatly puzzled.  “What can it be?” said he, keeping a safe distance away from it.

Now, Fred liked to play tricks upon his little brother sometimes:  so he said, with pretended alarm, “Why, perhaps it is a young lion.”

After this startling suggestion, Bertie did not wait an instant.  He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, screaming, “O mamma! there is a young lion up stairs.  O papa! do get your pistol, and shoot him.”  The poor child was really in a great fright; and all the family ran at once to see what could be the matter.

They met naughty Fred, laughing, but looking rather guilty.  “Why, it is only great Patience’s trunk,” said he.  “Bertie thinks it is a lion.”  Papa told Fred he did very wrong to frighten the boy so; but they all had a good laugh at poor Bertie’s mistake.  Bertie was soon induced to take a nearer look at his frightful little lion; and, when Aunt Patience took out from it two or three quarts of chestnuts, it lost all its terrors.  The boys were allowed to play in the room as much as they pleased; and the innocent hair trunk was made to do duty as a wolf, a bear, a tiger, and various other wild beasts.