Seven Little People and their Friends — John Shaqi
Seven Little People and their FriendsScudder, Horace Elisha
Science
Seven Little People and their Friends
Scudder, Horace Elisha
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Fairies -- Juvenile fiction; Magic -- Juvenile fiction
"Aye! there's a sunset for you, chicky," said Father Gilder, coming up
from the shore. "There'll be no storm after that! Do you remember your
last birth day, little one, when there was such a sudden storm came
up?" Yes, indeed, Effie remembered it and wondered whether the sky would
always be clear now.
The next day Effie looked for somebody to come and give her some great
thing to do, and teach her the Song of the Mountain, as she had wished
for her last wish. But no one came--no, nor the next day, nor the day
after; and then every thing went wrong. Her mother became sick and
cross, and finally died; and Effie had to wear the wonderful apron with
so many pockets, and work hard every day. How could she do any great
work? All she could do was to take care of the house and do little
things--ever so many of them there were, too, so that when the evening
came she was quite tired out. But her father said she was a comfort to
him, and he loved to have her sit by him and sing to him. She sang the
two songs over and over, as she did every day at her work, and never
tired of singing them, nor did he tire of hearing them.
So she lived on. She had a great many more birthdays, but no old man
came to see her, and nobody came to give her a great work to do, or to
teach her the rest of the song. By and by her father died too, but Effie
lived still in the little red cottage by the sea-shore. And if any were
sick or in trouble, they were sure to come to her. For every body loved
her, and wherever she went she seemed to carry the sunlight with her,
and to make everybody better and happier. Still no one came, though
every birth-day she sat at the door, looking for the old man.
But he did come at last. It was her birth-day. She was an old woman, but
she sat in the door-way as she used to, watching for somebody to come to
her with a great work to do, and the rest of the song. She sat in her
great arm-chair, and her eyes were very dim so that she could not see
very well, and her ears were very dull, so that she could hardly hear at
all. There was the sun that had so often gone down without any one's
appearing. But before it touched the water she heard a voice--that old
sweet voice that she had never forgotten, saying, "Effie!" She looked,
and there she saw the same face that the old man used to have, but that
was all she could see. Then it said again, "Effie!" and she said:
"Oh, sir! have you come at last to give me my wish? I have looked for
you year after year, and now I am an old woman, and have not many more
days to live."
"Your wish has been granted, Effie. You asked for some great work to do
to make others happy. All your life since you have been doing the great
work. There is nothing right or holy done for others that is not great.
The little daily duties that you did so faithfully; the little
kindnesses you showed to others; the little pleasant words you
spoke--these are all great things."
"But the Song of the Mountain?" asked Effie.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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