Lizzie's Rebellion.—The First and the Last of it.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XX, Issue 1428, 11 February 1888, Page 2 (Supplement)

Lizzie's Rebellion.— The First and the Last of it.

BY MRS. ANNIE A. PRESTON.

This was the first of it : Four-year-old Dewey. in his long white night-gown, was kneeling by mamma's knee, saying his prayers, and when to •' Jesus, tender Shepkerd, lead me," he added, " God bless papa and mamma and little sister," Lizzie, who was sitting upon mamma's lap, like any other two-yoar-ol i baby, piped up, to every one's surprise,

"Xot little sister; little sister take care hut's self. '

This Lizzie repeated every evening, and she grew so naughty aud rebellious over it that grandma said :

"It is only a baby's freak, and it will be soon forgotten if we don't take any notice of it."

So every night for some time Dewey waited until his little sister's blue eyes weie fast asleep bcCoia his prayer was uttered.

One morning, after several weeks had slipped by in this way, the two children were at play in the grain-room at the barn.

" Don't leave little sister, Dewey," and, " Don't climb, baby," sad mamma, as she left them and rau across the garden to a nei ;hbor's.

Lizzie, who was as fond of climbing as if she had been made with claws, like a kitten, instead orVwith plump, dimpled fingers mid toes, paid no heed to her mamma's words, but scrambled upon a rickety chair, she soon gained the top of a high bench, and fiom there climbed upon a hogshead, over the top of which was thrown a large piece of sacking, perhaps to keep the chickens out of it.

Instead of the firm foundation she expected to find, there wa.s nothing to hold her, and down she weut nearly to the bottom upon a few buohels of green oats. But she was not hurt, and not very badly fiightened.

" Oh ! oh ! Lizzie 1" shrieked Dewey. "Are 3 r ou dead ?— are you dead, Lizxie ?"

'• No," came the smothered answer ; " I'm awful s'prised."

L'retty soon she called again, " Are yon crying, Dewey ? What are you crying for?"

"Oh yes," sobbed the little boy. " I don't know what to do. I can't get you out, and I must'fc leave you to go for mamma. Oh dear !"

"Why dou't you pray?" said Lizzie, encouragingly. "Tell God Lizzie's tumbled into a hole where she can't take care her's self." Just then the butcher appeared in his white frock, and seeing Dewey 's grief, he inquired what the matter was. Then, as he reached down his long arms and lifted Lizzie by her up-reached hands, she sobbed for the first time :

" Oh, thank you, God, for coming down for me. I'll let Devvey ask you to take care of me every time now." And she did. So that was the last of it.