Mistress MaryMistress Mary, quite contrary,How does your garden grow?With dingle bells and cockle shellsAnd cowslips, all in a row.HIGH upon a cliff that overlooked the sea was a little white cottage,in which dwelt a sailor and his wife, with their two strong sons and alittle girl. The sons were also sailors, and had made several voyageswith their father in a pretty ship called the "Skylark." Their nameswere Hobart and Robart. The little girl's name was Mary, and she wasvery happy indeed when her father and her brothers were at home, forthey petted her and played games with, her and loved her very dearly.But when the "Skylark" went to sea, and her mother and herself wereleft alone in the little white cottage, the hours were very dull andtedious, and Mary counted the days until the sailors came home again.One spring, just as the grasses began to grow green upon the cliffand the trees were dressing their stiff, barren branches in robes ofdelicate foliage, the father and brothers bade good-bye to Mary and hermother, for they were starting upon a voyage to the Black Sea."And how long will you be gone, papa?" asked Mary, who was perchedupon her father's knee, where she could nestle her soft cheek againsthis bushy whiskers."How long?" he repeated, stroking her curls tenderly as he spoke;"well, well, my darling, it will be a long time indeed! Do you know thecowslips that grow in the pastures, Mary?""Oh, yes; I watch for them every spring," she answered."And do you know the dingle-bells that grow near the edge of the wood?"he asked again."I know them well, papa," replied Mary, "for often I gather their blueblossoms and put them in a vase upon the table.""And how about the cockle-shells?""Them also I know," said Mary eagerly, for she was glad her fathershould find her so well acquainted with the field flowers; "there isnothing prettier than the big white flowers of the cockle-shells. Buttell me, papa, what have the flowers to do with your coming home?""Why, just this, sweetheart," returned the sailor gravely; "all thetime that it takes the cowslips and dingle-bells and cockle-shellsto sprout from the ground, and grow big and strong, and blossom intoflower, and, yes--to wither and die away again--all that time shallyour brothers and I sail the seas. But when the cold winds begin toblow, and the flowers are gone, then, God willing, we shall come backto you; and by that time you may have grown wiser and bigger, and I amsure you will have grown older. So one more kiss, sweetheart, and thenwe must go, for our time is up."The next morning, when Mary and her mother had dried their eyes, whichhad been wet with grief at the departure of their loved ones, thelittle girl asked earnestly,"Mamma, may I make a flower-garden?""A flower-garden!" repeated her mother in surprise; "why do you wish aflower-garden, Mary?""I want to plant in it the cockle-shells and the cowslips and thedingle-bells," she answered.And her mother, who had heard what the sailor had said to his littlegirl, knew at once what Mary meant; so she kissed her daughter andreplied,"Yes, Mary, you may have the flower-garden, if you wish. We will dig anice little bed just at the side of the house, and you shall plant yourflowers and care for them yourself.""I think I'd rather have the flowers at the front of the house," saidMary."But why?" enquired her mother; "they will be better sheltered at theside.""I want them in front," persisted Mary, "for the sun shines strongerthere.""Very well," answered her mother, "make your garden at the front, ifyou will, and I will help you to dig up the ground.""But I don't want you to help," said Mary, "for this is to be my ownlittle flower-garden, and I want to do all the work myself."Now I must tell you that this little girl, although very sweet in manyways, had one serious fault. She was inclined to be a bit contrary, andput her own opinions and ideas before those of her elders. Perhaps Marymeant no wrong in this; she often thought she knew better how to do athing than others did; and in such a case she was not only contrary,but anxious to have her own way.And so her mother, who did not like her little daughter to be unhappy,often gave way to her in small things, and now she permitted Mary tomake her own garden, and plant it as she would.So Mary made a long, narrow bed at the front of the house, and then sheprepared to plant her flowers."If you scatter the seeds," said her mother, "the flower-bed will lookvery pretty."Now this was what Mary was about to do; but since her mother advisedit, she tried to think of another way, for, as I said, she was contraryat times. And in the end she planted the dingle-bells all in onestraight row, and the cockle-shells in another straight row the lengthof the bed, and she finished by planting the cowslips in another longrow at the back.Her mother smiled, but said nothing; and now, as the days passed by,Mary watered and tended her garden with great care; and when theflowers began to sprout she plucked all the weeds that grew amongthem, and so in the mild spring weather the plants grew finely."When they have grown up big and strong," said Mary one morning, asshe weeded the bed, "and when they have budded and blossomed and fadedaway again, then papa and my brothers will come home. And I shall callthe cockle-shells papa, for they are the biggest and strongest; and thedingle-bells shall be brother Hobart, and the cowslips brother Robart.And now I feel as if the flowers were really my dear ones, and I mustbe very careful that they come to no harm!"She was filled with joy when one morning she ran out to herflower-garden after breakfast and found the dingle-bells and cowslipswere actually blossoming, while even the cockle-shells were showingtheir white buds. They looked rather comical, all standing in stiff,straight rows, one after the other; but Mary did not mind that.While she was working she heard the tramp of a horse's hoofs, andlooking up saw the big bluff Squire riding toward her. The big Squirewas very fond of children, and whenever he rode near the littlewhite cottage he stopped to have a word with Mary. He was old andbald-headed, and he had side-whiskers that were very red in color andvery short and stubby; but there was ever a merry twinkle in his blueeyes, and Mary well knew him for her friend.Now, when she looked up and saw him coming toward her flower-garden,she nodded and smiled at him, and the big bluff Squire rode up to herside, and looked down with a smile at her flowers.Then he said to her in rhyme (for it was a way of speaking the jollySquire had),"Mistress Mary, so contrary,How does your garden grow?With dingle-bells and cockle-shellsAnd cowslips all in a row!"And Mary, being a sharp little girl, and knowing the Squire's queerways, replied to him likewise in rhyme, saying,"I thank you, Squire, that you enquireHow well the flowers are growing;The dingle-bells and cockle-shellsAnd cowslips all are blowing!"The Squire laughed at this reply, and patted her upon her head, andthen he continued,"'Tis aptly said. But prithee, maid,Why thus your garden fillWhen ev'ry field the same flowers yieldTo pluck them as you will?""That is a long story, Squire," said Mary; "but this much I may tellyou,"The cockle-shell is father's flower,The cowslip here is Robart,The dingle-bell, I now must tell,I've named for Brother Hobart."And when the flowers have lived their livesIn sunshine and in rain,And then do fade, why, papa saidHe'd sure come home again.""Oh, that's the idea, is it?" asked the big bluff Squire, forgettinghis poetry. "Well, it's a pretty thought, my child, and I think becausethe flowers are strong and hearty that you may know your father andbrothers are the same; and I'm sure I hope they'll come back from theirvoyage safe and sound. I shall come and see you again, little one, andwatch the garden grow." And then he said "gee-up" to his gray mare, androde away.The very next day, to Mary's great surprise and grief, she found theleaves of the dingle-bells curling and beginning to wither."Oh, mamma," she called, "come quick! Something is surely the matterwith brother Hobart!""The dingle-bells are dying," said her mother, after looking carefullyat the flowers; "but the reason is that the cold winds from the seaswept right over your garden last night, and dingle-bells are delicateflowers and grow best where they are sheltered by the woods. If you hadplanted them at the side of the house, as I wished you to, the windwould not have killed them."Mary did not reply to this, but sat down and began to weep, feeling atthe same time that her mother was right and it was her own fault forbeing so contrary.While she sat thus the Squire rode up, and called to her"Fie, Mary, fie! Why do you cry,And blind your eyes to knowingHow dingle-bells and cockle-shellsAnd cowslips all are growing?""Oh, Squire!" sobbed Mary, "I am in great trouble."Each dingle-bell I loved so wellBefore my eyes is dying,And much I fear my brother dearIn sickness now is lying!""Nonsense!" said the Squire; "because you named the flowers after yourbrother Hobart is no reason he should be affected by the fading ofthe dingle-bells. I very much suspect the real reason they are dyingis because the cold sea wind caught them last night. Dingle-bells aredelicate. If you had scattered the cockle-shells and cowslips all aboutthem, the stronger plants would have protected the weaker; but you see,my girl, you planted the dingle-bells all in a row, and so the windcaught them nicely."Again Mary reproached herself for having been contrary and refusing tolisten to her mother's advice; but the Squire's words comforted her,nevertheless, and made her feel that brother Hobart and the flowers hadreally nothing to do with each other.The weather now began to change, and the cold sea winds blew each nightover Mary's garden. She did not know this, for she was always lyingsnugly tucked up in her bed, and the warm morning sun usually droveaway the winds; but her mother knew it, and feared Mary's garden wouldsuffer.One day Mary came into the house where her mother was at work and said,gleefully,"Papa and my brothers will soon be home now.""Why do you think so?" asked her mother."Because the cockle-shells and cowslips are both fading away anddying, just as the dingle-bells did, and papa said when they faded andwithered he and the boys would come back to us."Mary's mother knew that the harsh winds had killed the flowers beforetheir time, but she did not like to disappoint her darling, so she onlysaid, with a sigh,"I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be glad to welcome ourdear ones home again."But soon afterward the big bluff Squire came riding up, as was hiswont, to where Mary stood by her garden, and he at once asked,"Pray tell me, dear, though much I fearThe answer sad I know,How grow the sturdy cockle-shellsAnd cowslips, all in a row?"And Mary looked up at him with her bright smile and answered,"Dingle-bells and cockle-shellsAnd cowslips are all dead,And now my papa's coming home,For so he surely said.""Ah," said the Squire, looking at her curiously, "I'm afraid you aregetting way ahead of time. See here, Mary, how would you like a littleride with me on my nag?""I would like it very much, sir," replied Mary."Then reach up your hand. Now!--there you are, little one!" and Maryfound herself seated safely in front of the Squire, who clasped herwith one strong arm so that she could not slip off."Now, then," he said, "we'll take a little ride down the hill and bythe path that runs beside the wood."So he gave the rein to his mare and they rode along, chatting merrilytogether, till they came to the wood. Then said the Squire,"Take a look within that nookAnd tell me what is there."And Mary exclaimed,"A dingle-bell, and truth to tellIn full bloom, I declare!"The Squire now clucked to his nag, and as they rode away he said,"Now come with me and you shall seeA field with cowslips bright,And not a garden in the landCan show so fair a sight."And so it was, for as they rode through the pastures the cowslipsbloomed on every hand, and Mary's eyes grew bigger and bigger as shethought of her poor garden with its dead flowers.And then the Squire took her toward the little brook that wanderedthrough the meadows, flowing over the pebbles with a soft, gurglingsound that was very nearly as sweet as music; and when they reached itthe big Squire said,"If you will look beside the brookYou'll see, I know quite well,That hidden in each mossy nookIs many a cockle-shell."This was indeed true, and as Mary saw them she suddenly dropped herhead and began to weep."What's the matter, little one?" asked the Squire in his kind, bluffvoice. And Mary answered,"Although the flowers I much admire,You know papa did sayHe won't be home again, Squire,Till all have passed away.""You must be patient, my child," replied her friend; "and surely youwould not have been thus disappointed had you not tried to make thefield flowers grow where they do not belong. Gardens are all wellenough for fancy flowers to grow in, but the posies that God gave toall the world, and made to grow wild in the great garden of Nature,will never thrive in other places. Your father meant you to watch theflowers in the field; and if you will come and visit them each day,you will find the time of waiting very short indeed."Mary dried her eyes and thanked the kindly old Squire, and after thatshe visited the fields each day and watched the flowers grow.And it was not so very long, as the Squire said, before the blossomsbegan to wither and fall away; and finally one day Mary looked out overthe sea and saw a little speck upon the waters that looked like a sail.And when it came nearer and had grown larger, both she and her mothersaw that it was the "Skylark" come home again, and you can imagine howpleased and happy the sight of the pretty little ship made them.And soon after, when Mary had been hugged by her two sunburned brothersand was clasped in her father's strong arms, she whispered,"I knew you were coming soon, papa.""And how did you know, sweetheart?" he asked, giving her an extra kiss."Because I watched the flowers; and the dingle-bells and cowslips andcockle-shells are all withered and faded away. And did you not saythat, God willing, when this happened you would come back to us?""To be sure I did," answered her father, with a happy laugh; "andI must have spoken truly, sweetheart, for God in His goodness waswilling, and here I am!"
