A Daughter of the Union. Lucy Foster Madison
of rich and poor alike. This zeal was not confined to the old but animated the minds of the young as well. Numerous instances are recorded of little girls who had not yet attained their tenth year denying themselves the luxuries and toys they had long desired and toiling with a patience and perseverance wholly foreign to childish nature, to procure or to make something of value for their country’s defenders.
Our group of girls was only one among many banded together for the purpose of doing whatever they could for the relief of the boys in blue, and their young hearts were overwhelmed with a sense of their impotence. Jeanne Vance, a tall, slender, fair-haired girl of sixteen, serious and thoughtful beyond her years, was the leader in every patriotic enterprise of her associates.
Her father since the beginning of the war had devoted himself exclusively to furthering the interests of the government; her mother was a prominent worker in The Woman’s Central Relief Association, giving her whole time to collecting supplies and money to be forwarded to the front and providing work for the wives, mothers and daughters of the soldiers. Her brother, Richard Vance, had responded to the first call of President Lincoln to arms: thus the girl was surrounded by influences that filled her being to the utmost with intense loyalty to the Union.
As she looked at the eagerly waiting girls around her a sudden inspiration came to her.
“Let’s give a fair, girls. We could make pretty things to sell and I am willing that all my toys and games shall be sold too. Perhaps we could get a great deal of money that way, and I am sure that even a little would be welcome.”
“But how about the socks and handkerchiefs? Shall we give up making them?”
“No, indeed! We must keep right on with those, but this fair will be all our own effort. I believe that we will feel as if we were really doing something worth while if we can manage it. What do you say?”
“It is the very thing,” cried they. “When shall we begin?”
“This afternoon,” said Jeanne energetically. “There is no time like the present. This is May. We ought to be ready by the last of June. We can do a great deal in that time if we work hard.”
“And we can get our mothers to help us too,” suggested Nellie Drew.
“We ought not to do that, Nellie,” replied Jeanne seriously. “They are so busy themselves, and it would not be truly ours if we have the older ones to help. Don’t you think we ought to do just the very best we can without them?”
“Oh, yes, yes!” chorused the girls.
“I can make pretty pin cushions,” said a girl about Jeanne’s age. “I will make as many of them as I can.”
“I can do pen wipers very nicely, mamma says,” spoke Nellie modestly.
“Mother always lets me help dress the dolls for Christmas,” cried another.
“Where will we have it, Jeanne?”
Jeanne looked puzzled for a moment. “I’ll tell you, girls. Let’s have it on our steps. We’ll have a big card telling all about it printed and put up. Then people will stop and buy things when they know it is for the soldiers.”
“On your steps,” cried Nellie. “Oh, Jeanne, will your mother let you? It is right on Fifth Avenue.”
“Why, mother won’t care!” answered Jeanne, surprised at the question. “Fifth Avenue is the best place in New York for anything of the sort, because so many well-to-do people pass, and they will be sure to be generous for the soldiers’ sake.”
“Mercy, Jeanne, where did you learn so much about things?” gasped Nellie in admiration. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Well,” said Jeanne, flushing at the praise, “I hear mother and the ladies talking, you know. They say that such things must always be taken into consideration. If you have anything to sell, or you want money, you must go where there is money to be had. I know the ladies do that in their fairs.”
“Then of course that is the way to do,” remarked a tall girl decidedly. “Let’s take our handkerchiefs and socks to the Relief rooms and begin right away.”
The girls set to work joyfully, and labored zealously for their fair. Their parents were amused at their earnestness, but seeing them happy and contented encouraged them in their efforts. The days were busy ones, but the knowledge that every boat and train was bringing hundreds of wounded soldiers into the hospitals from the disastrous Yorktown campaign spurred them to greater exertion, until at last they declared themselves ready to open the sale.
Handkerchiefs, aprons, homemade candies, dolls, with all the paraphernalia belonging to them, pin cushions, pen wipers, and books, presented a goodly appearance as they were spread enticingly upon the steps of the mansion in lower Fifth Avenue. A large card, which Mr. Vance had had printed for them with the inscription, “For the relief of our wounded and sick soldiers. Please buy,” reared its head imposingly over the articles, and five little maids, neatly dressed, stood in expectant attitude eagerly watching each passer-by in the hope of a customer.
The placard caught the eyes of an elderly man, and the little girls could scarcely conceal their delight as he paused before them.
“Well, my little ladies, what have we here?” he asked kindly. “For the soldiers, eh? Who put you up to this?”
“No one, sir,” answered Jeanne as the other girls shrank back abashed. “We are doing it ourselves to help buy things for the boys.”
“But who made the articles?” queried the old gentleman. “I am a poor judge of such things, but these handkerchiefs seem to be very neatly done. They are not of your making, I presume.”
“Indeed they are,” answered the girl earnestly. “We have done all the sewing, and made the candies. The toys were our own, given to us by our parents, but we would rather have the money to give to the soldiers, so they are for sale too. We girls have made everything but the toys and the books.”
“But why,” persisted he good-naturedly. “The government provides for its soldiers, and there are women and men to do what the government doesn’t do. Why should you interest yourselves in such things? The war doesn’t concern you!”
“Whatever concerns our country concerns us,” answered Jeanne with dignity. “We are only girls, sir, and cannot do much, but what we can do to help those who are fighting for us we will do.”
“Nobly said, my little maid. I was anxious to see if this was a mere whim of the moment, or if you really were actuated by patriotic motives. You have taught me that girls can feel for their country as well as grown people. How much are those handkerchiefs?”
“A dollar a dozen, sir.”
“H’m’m!” mused the old gentleman drawing forth a well filled pocketbook. “Too cheap by far. Give me a couple of dozen.”
Jeanne obeyed with alacrity and carefully wrapped the handkerchiefs in tissue paper. “I can’t change this bill, sir,” she said as the old gentleman gave her a twenty dollar note.
“I don’t want you to, my little girl,” returned he kindly. “Take it for the cause.”
“Oh,” cried Jeanne her eyes filling with glad tears. “How good you are! How good you are!”
“Nonsense! It’s a pity if I cannot give a little money when you girls have given so much time and work. Good-day, my little patriots. Success to you in your undertaking. You may see me again.”
“Good-day, sir,” cried the girls together. “And thank you ever so much.”
“Oh, girls,” gasped Jeanne delightedly. “Isn’t it fine? Twenty dollars! I didn’t think we’d make more than that altogether.”
“Here come more customers, Jeanne,” cried Nellie excitedly. “Oh, but I believe that we are going to have