Library Collections: Document: Full Text

ON a warm day in June a widow was seen drawing a wooden cart over a common. In the cart was a boy, whose head lay on a clean white pillow. His long hair spread over his forehead, and curled on his pale cheeks. There was in his face the look of days of pain and sorrow.

For more than an hour the little wooden cart rolled along the path, and the poor boy looked around on all the pleasant things to be seen on that fine day. The flowers and birds, the blue sky and green fields, were all objects of joy to him.

"Who can that little boy be? Where does he live? And who is that poor widow who is drawing him in the cart?"

So thought a lady as she saw them on that bright day in June.

"Pardon me," she said to the widow; "I have been looking at your dear boy. His pale but happy face has quite won my heart."

"Thank you," replied the widow; "my Jamie is a cripple, and can not run about and play like other boys of his years; but he is quite happy when I draw him out in his cart in the morning, before I go to my daily work."

"But you look tired; you must rest under this tree, and then you can tell me about him. How old is he?"

"About ten."

"Was he always a cripple?" asked the lady.

"Oh, no; he was as fine a baby as ever a fond mother had, said the mother, and tear stood in her eye ; "but when he was six months old his young sister let him fall from her arms one day, while I was away at work. He was very much hurt, and was ill for many months; but as I was so poor, I could not do all I wished to do for him. A kind doctor watched over him, and tried to make him well, though he knew I had no money to pay him for all he did. I had to go each day to work for a family a good way from home; and every morning, day by day, and week by week, I kissed his little face, thinking never more to see him alive. But God was good, and spared him to comfort his mother."

"But he must be a great care to you, with all the other trials you have in life," said the lady.

"Oh, no; he is the greatest blessing I have on earth. To be sure, God did not see fit to make him strong and well, for his spine was very much injured by that fall. But every morning, before I leave home, I place everything which he will need on the little table, by a chair. This stands near the window, and that part of our little room is always known as 'Jamie's corner.'

"When I and my daughter go home at night," continued the mother, "tired with the labors of the day, I always see his sweet, pale face at the window; he watches for our return. When he sees me his face lights up with what some folks would call a sweet smile. I forget my weary state in a prayer of gratitude to Him who gave me such a comfort in my life of trouble, and humbly ask God that he will long spare me this blessing. I rise an hour earlier, in order to enjoy this morning walk with him, and my happiness is all crowded into the brief time I spend with him."

"But I should think Jamie would be very lonely while you are away."

"That was what I often feared; but he tells me that, though he misses me sadly, he is never lonely. Jamie, dear, tell this lady how you amuse yourself when I have gone to work," said she, turning to her boy.

He had been looking about him, and so occupied with his own thoughts that the conversation had passed unobserved by him. He now looked up into her face. She repeated what she before said.

"Oh, no; I am not lonely," he replied. "I am busy all the day, working on my toys; or, when I get tired, in reading Lucy's Sabbath-school books. The boys from the next house often come in on Wednesday or Saturday afternoons and read to me. I like to have them come and sit with me, for then I can work and learn too."

"But don't you ever wish you could go to school with them?"

"I am very happy as I am. I think God is good to me, and I thank him for giving me such a kind mother and dear sister. Why, I have just the prettiest rose-tree in my window that you ever saw! Almost every month it brings me a blossom. The first one in the year I give to mother; the next to Lucy. I never keep one on the stem to wither, for all my friends love 'Jamie's roses,' as they call them, and 'tis all I have to give those I love. A kind lady gave me the bush, and told me to learn a hymn for each blossom it gave. If you will come to-morrow, you shall have a blossom."

"Thank-you, Jamie; I would like very much to visit you and your rose-bush, and will try to call."

As it was now time for Mrs. M___ to go to her home, she bade the lady good-morning, thanking her for her "kindness." Jamie gave her a smile, and the little cart rolled away.

About ten o'clock the next morning, the lady went into the alley where Mrs. M- lived. She wondered which of the many miserable houses hers could be, but she soon saw little Jamie's face at an open window.

As she passed into the room where he sat, he expressed much joy at seeing her. Before leaving, his thoughtful mother had placed a chair for the lady, quite near him and his little table. On the table lay a Bible and a hymn-book, together with a few little story-books. The blooming rose was one of the sweetest kind, and perfumed the whole room as it stood near the window.