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The Baldwin Library
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CONTENTS:
Tue Fack ‘IN THE GLAss...
FRANKEY S{DLED.\. 0). 3:05:88
THe? BATPER. %6.. 5 5. - aah
FATHER! IS COMING. + wx...
Tue Brrps’ CuristmMas-TREE..
Tite eWATRY:, CAT sen cursos
A Day In THE CounrTRY...
TE EREME AGE OT os 5,0 od nate ney
WINNT Cis: 5 ete chentV ayefths «
ANNIE’s RIpE. . ... ..¢%iptie
Jounny’s Lesson .. 22.202.
Wuo Mave THE FLowers?.
Neppy HArriS#is 5.04. 5. me
Lost AND/PROUNDI::... 2.235
Lirrrne MorHEer’y:.... 4.2...
Tue SquirREL Hunt...../.
TN PPAPA'S ‘STUDY 2x6 ates cae
Tirerie , WARY os ee re oie
My First SUMMER IN THE.
GGUNTRY 2B. ook. ce
Mottiy’s Funny’Sone...../...
Dry) SRERST 5 sci tages ots else
Tue Mitxman’s Docs:......
He C OW. sai. sae Re OP
Tue CHaRITy THAT CovERETH
Tue CrooxepD Wrinpow Pare.
BrautiruL Rosks............
A Farrurut SHEPHERD Boy...
Tue Lirrte Gray HEn.....2
GaAUGHT Av. Last... ...
Wuat THE Oak TREE SarD TO
They WITTE, CHILD... . sete
Brest Way To BE Happy.....
BrrDIE AND \BABY.... 6.2.05.
FARLY PO. BED Sy es. 52 hal
Tue FarmeEr’s PARROT.......
Anna’s STAY AT THE SEASIDE.
GHRISTMAS: oo cise s cae Beas
PETER, LOTR Rs. Ss aes 0
BE “aGoop. Grin: . Sate. ee
How Dotiir DEANE> SPOILED
HER CHRISTMAS..â€.. 6. hb Seis
THe Dray Horsk anD THE
RRORRR ssa i sae sok
Hatr-past Ercut, and Hatr-
PAST FOURS Sy actin oe ee eee
LACE-MAKING, 2 ip... ee ec ee em
OUR ER BOSSY? ocikis o'chte s
Wuat Papa Totp Ermy..
HovusEHOLD TREASURES....
TIRED OF READING.......
Tue Brave. Cock.:.....55%4
A Lig (SPicks. ¢ 5. 05 EPR
OUR: ROMEO: Main 5 cies:
Tae WINDMIEL. .. 1th. 2: ©
A Lirrte Act or KinpyEss. .
THE SEA-SHORE “te. 0. 5 4 < 2.
WATERSIBIT TES rot ts.cisicsgtt ers
My..Sistepic eee cia. panâ€,
Pienty or TIME; oR, JOHNNY'S
EAU Teeeep hearse 5 oss a peoneetee ke
SAM gtestelseu tea sep cteintasenetiere ars
THE (OmDaW ELL ssn setae
LIPTERERSUNSHINE S.- c (alee s/
Very Lirrte Ones 1n MIscHIEF
CT FRAN cot Secs. as oka, slag a ve
> C:0 NTIEN-T Sz
PAGE
Be STHANKFUL,.<¢ «1.1040. 52:52 2 = 5 118 | Goine To ScHoot..... sae Se
IPINGHERUAND liane e ts ‘120 | THe WoopMmen...... ee eas
Jounniz anp WILLIE........ 122 | Now I Lay Mz Down To SteEp
Wuat THE SunBEAM Saw..... 123 | Kiss or THE Rain..........
DONKEYSitgt 9 s).2ct heros s-0iele ee 126 | My Youne Sorpigr.........
FIRBCTORS caseles ah be 128 | By my Winpow...... aa tase
A Winter Sonc...... ...++. 130 | Tue Curistmas-TREE........
Kissinc A SUNBEAM......,.. 132 | OuR CHaRLEY AND THE WatTcH
WHICH was THE BETTER Sport? 133 | Evening Hymn...... oust ate eae
OUR MEILY Mrs cscsetorsy tains 134.) THe: Cat RABBITS ee
BUSY: (BERR ec ees eee 136 | Curistmas CAROL...........
Tue Curistmas TREE........ 138 | THe. SwALLowsc. 4. oy ae
Meer TE EW MUTE WLALY:. ocrs.dss5 2 = 1401| Ae Litter, STORY eae S
Errin’s DREAM .. 3... S55: 141 .| JGRNEST AS. don Soke eee conetee
“DHE NEAGPIE. «.. 2.3 0:5 tees os 144 | Sone OF THE FarRiks........
SHE CHICKENS) 2 o5:cos.cs tans 146,.|. PrAvinc. PEppLER «4 5.24 ms
‘am Bump: BATH. ....S..e se 148-| Krrry's “ROUBLE: ss 10) sce
Wee KATE. do onic'c cee e'v'es «es (E51, || LAN) ALLEGORY, 2221 0 so ceeumaiaes
Power or KINDNESS......... 152 | IN THE SPRING..............
SetrisH MAtTTHEW........... 154 | A Prayer ANSWERED........
CoMING FROM SCHOOL........ 156 | ConcEITED CarrY...... alee
Onty a Buncu or Frowers.. 158 | Tuomas Henry............ :
Tuer Liry oF THE VALLEY, THE THe CONTRAST 22.). 0) acu ;
Dewnprops, AND THE Snow. 160 | THE SHEEP............ saa
Tue Wuite Macwno.ia....... 162 | Crean Lips...... eevee oe
Tue TIGER...... Ratu cgice dees face 164 | THE Rostn’s NEst...... ...
SprinG. Has ComME.........-. (166 | BROWNIB.... 3-3. else
Katir’s Rie Down Hixx... 168 | Szeinc HimseEtr 1n a LooKInG-
Butrercups AND Dalsiks..... 170 GLASS... .atees + ee oes :
(Pie KISHERMAN: .i\.15 51s -'0s 0) « 172 | AMY AND HER Dovss........
Frepinc THE Donxeys....... 174 | ON a Sunpay Mornine......
My sD RAR UICIETY. vetoes « . 176 | Lions anD TIGERS...... ee ae!
Nor Far AWAY....2u0%....- 178 | Frep anD DoG STEPHEN.....
WENNYVISEOALT yavtreectetee tis Sor 180 | Sammy..... at oceanic
Littite SuNSHINE.......... .. 182 | THe “ROOK .. 3). ceaces eer
How to Maxe Motruer Happy 182 | Do as You Woutp BE Dong
Murr AND HER Puppizs...... 186 BY co Baas cae oleate
PAGE
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THE FACE IN THE GLASS.
USH, my little darling,
*T will never, never do,
For there’s another baby
A-crying just like you.
See his cheeks so chubby,
And see his eyes so dim ;
What do you think’s the matter,
Hally, my love, with him?
IT guess his ma’s gone driving
In the pretty, pretty park;
I guess she’s got old Jerry,
And won’t be home till dark.
I guess she told his nursey
To carry him off up-stairs,
And tell him a little story
After he’d said his prayers.
A story of a bumble-bee
In a great red héllyhock,
With a cap of black and yellow
As big as a piece of chalk,
A-swinging and a-siriging,
In a busy, buzzy way,
And a-saying every funny thing
That a bumble-bee can say.
A story of a kitten
That hadn’t a thing to do
But to sit in a chimney-corner
And mew, and mew, and mew,
7
FRANKEY’S SLED.
Till somebody brought his dinner
In a little broken jug,
And gave him a kiss for Christmas
And the cutest kind of a hug.
A story of a squirrel,
With a great big bushy tail,
Hiding a hundred hickory-nuts
Under a broken rail ;
A story Oh, my Hally,
What are we going to do?
For we've lost the naughty baby
That was crying just like you.
But ah, ha-ha! there’s another
With laughter over his lips,
With eyes as sweet as the pansy
He holds in his finger-tips.
O-ho, ha-ha, my Hally!
He’s just the daintiest elf,
And I’ll cuddle him up and carry him off,
For he’s only just—yourself !
FRANKEY’S SLED.
"ANKY F’anky! come look! The g’ound is all covered
with sugar!†cried little Charley, as he toddled out of
bed and-his eyes caught sight of the snow, which lay
white and clean upon the ground.
When they went to bed the night before, there had been no
sign of snow and everything was brown and bare. But in the
night the flakes had come softly down; now it was dazzling
8
FRANKEY’S SLED.
white in the bright sunshine. No wonder Charley thought it was
sugar. Sugar and flour were the only white things he knew of.
“You little goose, you!†cried Frank. But he hopped out
of bed in a hurry and bounded to the window; and there, in
spite of Jack Frost, the two little fellows stood in their long
night-gowns, pressing their noses flat against the panes, ae
out at the snow.
“You goosey, you!†said Frank once more. “ It isn’t sugar
at all. Don’t you know better than that? It’s snow! Hurrah!
there is Neddy Harris with his sled, drawing Mary and little
Will. Hurry, Charley, and I will give you a ride before break-
fast.†Almost quicker than it takes to write it they were dressed
and out on Frankey’s new sled.
I wonder why children love the snow so? I am sure I am —
always sorry to see it, for it is so cold. It makes me draw
myself all up and wish I was a bear, or a woodchuck, or some
other animal which curls up in a warm nest and stays asleep
and snug until winter is over.
9
THE BATTLE.
N the garden a great game of soldiers had been going on.
Several little cousins had been going through their volun-
teer drill, under the command of Master Freddy, who,
with flag in hand, commanded with great judgment and de-
eision. They had marched up and down several times, frighten-
ing the chickens as they went; mamma and grandpa watched
them from the window, and cheered the little army as it passed.
Little Frank had especially won general applause by his skillful
management of the drum, when it came into the head of one of
the volunteers to propose that the army should be divided into
two, and that one part should attack the other. Accordingly
two parties were formed, each five men strong; and the attack
began under the command of the noble generals. It had pro-
ceeded for some time with much spirit and courage on both
sides, when suddenly one army which had been driven into a
corner made a desperate rally, and drove the opposing forces
quite to the opposite side of the battle-field. Now, the battle-
field in this instance being a garden, had a large flower-bed at
the end, towards which the repulsed army was driven; and
the pursuers, who were led by Master Frederick, drove them
through the bed, crushing all papa’s flowers; whereupon the
light infantry began to cry, in which it was joined by the
general whose fierce fighting had caused the mischief, and who
was doubtful as to what his papa, the commander-in-chief,
might think of this particular movement; mamma hearing the
noise came out and wiped away the tears, promising to make
all right with papa.
16
MASTER FREDDY AT THE HEAD OF HIS ARMY.
FATHER IS COMING.
HE clock is on the stroke of six,
The father’s work is done;
Sweep up the hearth and mend the fire,
And put the kettle on:
The wild night-wind is blowing cold,
’Tis dreary crossing o’er the wold.
He’s crossing o’er the wold apace,
He’s stronger than the storm ;
He does not feel the cold, not he,
His heart it is so warm :
For father’s heart is stout and true
As ever human bosom knew.
He makes all toil, all hardship light;
Would all men were the same!
So ready to be pleased, so kind,
So very slow to blame!
Folks need not be unkind, austere;
For love hath readier will than fear.
Nay, do not close the shutters, child;
For far along the lane
The little window leoks, and he
Can see it shining plain.
I’ve heard him say he loves to mark
The cheerful firelight through the dark.
And we'll do all that father likes:
His wishes are so few;
Would they were more, that every hou»
Some wish of his I knew!
12
FATHER IS COMING. ©
When I can please him any way.
I know he’s coming by this sign,
That baby’s almost wild ;
See how he laughs, and crows, and stares,—
Heaven bless the merry child!
He’s father’s self in face and limb,
And father’s heart is strong in him.
13
THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS-TREE.
Hark! hark! I hear his footsteps now ;
He’s through the garden-gate.
Run, little Bess, and ope the door,
And do not let him wait.
Shout, baby, shout! and clap thy hands,
For father on the threshold stands.
THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS-TREE.
EAR papa, will you tell us just one little story before
we go to bed?†asked Alice. “Yes, please, please, do!â€
echoed Nellie and Greta in one breath.
“Well, my darlings, I do not think I can refuse you, but
keep very quiet, and do not interrupt me once. Greta shall
sit on my lap, and Nellie and Alice stand beside me. There,
are you all fixed? Now for the story.
“Once there was a little girl named Blanche, who, with her
papa, used to feed a number of sparrows every morning with
crumbs. Very often with them came other feathered friends.
There were two blackbirds: one she called ‘Jettie-—he was so
very black; the other she named ‘Blackie’—not being so
glossy.
“When Christmas-time arrived, a lady invited Blanche to
spend an afternoon with her children. For their amusement
a Christmas-tree had been provided, and very great was their
delight on seeing it, and receiving the various gifts that had
been prepared for them.
“Next morning, it being holiday-time, Blanche did not go to
school; but after breakfast went to play in the garden. Her
mamma observed her passing and re-passing the window, and
was much puzzled to think what her little girl was doing, her
14
THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS-TREE.
ONO
% yey ERE
pinafore filled with holly and arbutus branches, each with clus-
ters of beautiful berries.
“When her mamma asked her what she was about, she
looked very mysteriously, and whispered, ‘Oh, mamma, guess!’
As her mamma could not guess, she told her she was preparing
a Christmas-tree.
“A beautiful tree it was,—a young fir, which had been planted
a year before in the lawn, and was now bright with holly, arbu-
tus, and thorn berries. Small pieces of bread were attached
by strong thread to the branches, and in addition tiny paper
baskets, filled with hemp-seed.
“Can any of you guess for whom the pretty fir-tree was
intended ?
“Blanche shall tell you. ‘I thought,’ she said, ‘as we chil-
dren had enjoyed our Christmas-tree, that my dear little birds
would like one too!’
“The birds had been accustomed to re-assemble at the early
dinner hour, and it was with no little curiosity that we all
15
THE FAIRY CAT,
gathered together at the dining-room window to watch the
arrival of Blanche’s visitors.
“At the usual hour they came. Their ordinary fare of bread-
crumbs not being thrown to them, they began to hop about,
and quickly discovered the prepared treat. Shyly at first they
examined the novel tree, as if they could not quite understand
it. Soon, however, this feeling seemed to vanish, and to
Blanche’s great delight one after another alighted on the tree,
showing their appreciation of the treat so kindly prepared for
them by making a hearty Christmas dinner.
“The birds so enjoyed their Christmas-tree that they con-
tinued their visits for three days, until not a berry nor a crumb.
of bread remained.
“T hope, dear children, that you like this little story, and that
you too will remember the birds, and provide for them a Christ-
mas feast.
“Now, that is all; I hear mamma calling you, and it is time
for bed; kiss me good-night, my darlings, and remember always
that the same loving, watchful care is over you that marks each
little sparrow’s fall.â€
THE FAIRY CAT.
HERE once lived a poor woman, who went into the wood
to gather sticks. As she returned laden with a heavy
bundle she saw a poor sick kitten under a hedge. It
moaned piteously, and the kind woman took it into her apron
to carry it home. Her little girl came out to meet her, and
when she saw something alive in her apron asked,—
“ Mother, what have you there?â€
She begged hard to be allowed to carry the kitten home, but
the woman was afraid she would hurt the little sick creature,
16
THE FAIRY CAT.
and carried it home herself. When they had reached the
cottage she laid it on some clothes, and gave it some milk to
drink. The kitten recovered in a few days, and grew fat and
sleek. It loved the little girl very much, and, indeed, seemed
to fear nothing, but would lie quietly on the window-sill while
Fido barked, and Mary said she almost laughed at him for his
trouble. One morning she suddenly disappeared.
When the woman had used up all her sticks she went again
into the wood. As she returned laden with a bundle of sticks
a fine grand lady stood just in the place where the little kitten
had lain.
She beckoned to the poor woman, and threw five knitting-
pins into her apron. The poor woman thought it rather a
useless gift, as she had plenty of knitting-pins at home; yet she
thanked her, and took them with her. Her little girl, too, did.not
care much for the knitting-pins, for she had a set of her own.
17
A DAY IN THE COUNTRY.
At night they were left on the table, but what was their
wonder the next morning when they beheld a pair of well-
knitted stockings lying by the side of the knitting-pins! The
following evening they were left there again, and a second pair
lay on the table in the morning.
Then the truth dawned on the poor woman. The kitten
had been a kind fairy, who gave her these wonderful knitting-
pins as a reward for her kindness. Every night she put them
on the table, and every morning they had knitted a pair of
beautiful stockings. Soon she and the children were well pro-
vided. The rest of the stockings they sold, and the money
received for them supplied them with many comforts: neither
did they ever want food or clothing again.
This is only a fairy-story, but it may teach that our kind
actions often bring a reward when we least expect it.
A DAY IN THE. COUNTRY.
HAT was a “golden day,†as Aunt Edith says; a day full
of delight. We spent it in the country. What a happy
time was ours, sporting on the grass, gathering flowers,
running, swinging, and wandering in the woods!
There were eight of us: five city children and three who —
lived in the country,—our cousins, with whom we had come to
spend the day.
I had passed days i in the country before, and have spent many
in the country since, but no day is “golden†in my memory
like that one.
Shall I tell you why? I did not see it then, nor for many
years afterward ; but it all came to me once, when I talked with
a child who returned from a picnic looking very unhappy.
18
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HE DAY IN THE COUNTRY
LITTLE TROT.
“What is the trouble, dear?†I asked.
_ “Qh,†she replied, “so many of the children were cross, and
others wouldn’t do anything if we didn’t let them have their
own way.â€
“Tm sorry,†I said.
“And so am I,†she returned, artlessly ; au I haven’t been
happy or good.â€
“Were you cross and selfish like the rest?†I inquired.
A sigh came up from her heart as she answered,—
“Maybe I was. When other children are cross and ugly, I
get so too. It seems as if I couldn’t help it. And then I’m so
miserable! I wish I could always be with good children, it
would be so nice.â€
And then it all came to me why that day in the country had
been a “golden day.†From morning until evening I did not
hear a cross word nor see a wrong action. Oh, dear little ones,
is not love very sweet, and selfishness very bitter?
LITTLE TROT.
ITTLE TROT’ real name was Tabitha Turner, but she
had been called Trot when she was quite a baby, and
now, though she was seven years old, her mother, school-
fellows, and friends still used:the pet name.
_ Mrs. Turner was a laundress, and had to work hard to keep
a tidy home for Trot and herself, and to send the little girl to
school every day; but she did not mind hard work, and some-
how each morning brought fresh’ strength and ‘fresh courage,
and the struggle for the daily bread was made lighter by
thoughts of that kind, loving Father in heaven who is the God
of the fatherless and widow.
20
LITTLE TROT.
any one could be, but this did not prevent. her being gentle, as
well as useful too, in her own small way.
It was Trot who blew the fire to make it burn in the morn-
ing, and who washed and put the breakfast things away before
going to school. It was Trot who helped to fold the clothes for
the mangle. It was she who took care of the house when her
mother, with the great bundle on her head, took home the
week’s wash. It was she who ran errands for Mrs. Turner
when school was over in the afternoon, and she it was again
who, before bedtime came, would bring her Testament, and,
sitting down by the side of her poor tired mother, would read to
her, in her simple childish way, of the loving deeds and sweet
kind words of the Saviour, who himself had lived among the
poor and the sorrowful, and was ready to pity and help them.
21
MINNIE.
4 AM going to tell you about a dear little
girl named Minnie; sometimes we
call her darling Minnie, or sweet Minnie,
and we have a great many pet names
which always make her look very happy,
for she knows how very dear she is to us,
and children, ‘like grown folks, like to be
loved.
Now, this little girl has many pets. She
has a beautiful canary-bird that she calls
Cherry ; he is very tame, and will sit on her
finger while she talks to him, and she
thinks the bird knows what she says, for he
will talk in his way, and they seem to
understand each other nicely.
She has a kitty, whose name is Beauty,
and she will carry that kitty all around out-
doors and talk to it, and the kitty keeps on
purring, and Minnie carries her till some-
thing else comes to her notice, then she
drops kitty, and away she goes.
22
|
el
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AUDERBACHESC:
MINNIE AND CHERRY HER PET CANARY..
ANNIE’S RIDE.
OOK here, Charlie,†said Mrs. Wilmot to a bright boy
of ten or eleven years, and she pointed to Mr. Arthur’s
generous offer of a tool-chest premium ; “isn’t that worth
trying for?â€
Charlie’s eyes ran down the page quickly, and sparkled with
eager hope:
“Oh, mother, you mean I may try, don’t you? Indeed I
will, and I’lt begin to-day, if you'll let me carry this over to
Fred Allston’s and show it to his mother.†__
Permission was readily accorded, and in half an hour Charlie
~ returned, triumphant.
“T’ve two ‘subscribers, mother,†he shouted as he came up
the walk, seeing his mother’s face at the window. She was
watching for him, he knew, and eager to hear of his success;
for however busy or tired she might be, she always sympa-
thized in what interested him. He came to her side and kissed
her as he went on talking:
“Mrs. Allston said yes right off, and there was another lady
staying with her, that has children at home, and she said, ‘Oh;
what a beauty! Jenny and Kitty will be perfectly charmed ;’
and she and Mrs. Allston both paid me; see here.†And Charlie
opened his little red pocket-book, and showed two crisp, new
one-dollar bills and two twenty-five-cent pieces.
It was not always so smooth sailing ; some refused, and others
hesitated, but Mrs. Wilmot knew where he would be most
likely to succeed, and Charlie profited by her advice. Patience
and effort were in time crowned with success.
“Will you write my letter, mother?†he asked.
“No, dear,†she answered; “you had better do it yourself,
but I will see that it is all right.â€
Charlie may, when he becomes a man, engage in large com-
24
ANNIE’S RIDE.
mercial enterprises and bear great responsibilities, but he never
will feel more important and business-like than he did in writ-
ing and addressing that letter, inclosing the money and sealing
the precious document.
In a very short time the much-desired box came by express,
in perfect order, and a treasure to make a boy’s heart glad.
Charlie’s eyes shone, and his kind mother easily excused the
wild whoop that rang through the house, and the Indian dance
that shook the floor.
I am glad to say that Charlie was not selfish in his pleasure.
His first use of his new treasure was in making a set of nice
little silk-winders for his mother, which pleased her very much.
After a little practice he made some pretty picture-frames for
his sister Mary and a doll’s chair for little Annie, while for any
small job of hammering about the house he was always ready.
A pretty box, too, for stamps, stood on his father’s writing-
table, which was not there before the tool-box came.
Winter, with its coasts and sleigh-rides and long evenings,
passed, and spring’s fresh beauty clothed the earth. The chil-
dren had enjoyed their vacation very much, playing out-doors
most of the time, till little Annie hurt her foot badly. It healed
nicely, however, and the pain soon left it, but the doctor said
she must not walk for two or three weeks.
This was a sore disappointment to the little girl, for ‘the
dearly loved to go to school. Her teacher was a very kind,
pleasant lady, and Annie belonged to a class of little girls about
her own age, who went only for part of the forenoon ; they had
a nice play at recess, and were dismissed directly afterward.
Annie’s baby-carriage had long ago been discarded and given
away; her father did not keep a horse, and there seemed to be
no way of getting her to school.
A day or two before the term opened, Charlie found Annie
erying; and finding out what the matter was, he ran up garret,
25
ANNIE’S RIDE.
and after some rummaging he came down, bringing a good-
sized clean box.
“Mother,†said he, “may I have this?â€
“Yes,†she answered, supposing he wanted to keep some of
his “traps,†as he would say, in it.
Charlie took it into the woodshed, and except the sound of
sawing and hammering, nothing further was heard of it till
the morning school was to besin,
About half-past eight, as Mary was getting her books to-
gether, and Annie sat watching her with a very sober face, a
noise outside the window drew their attention. There was a
clatter of feet and a rolling of wheels and a loud “Whoa!â€
Mary opened the door, and there stood Charlie, holding the
tongue of a little wagon. It was a very plain one, to be sure;
the wheels were only round wooden blocks, and it had no paint
or polish about it, but it was strong and light, the fruit of
loving toil, and answered its purpose well, as we shall see. ;
“Want to ride to school, Annie?†asked Charlie, in a bright,
cheery way. “Here’s a conveyance for lame ladies;†and
touching his cap to his mother, whose laughing eyes told that
she had been in the secret, he added, “I’ve just set up business,
ma’am; can you give me a passenger? I hope I shall meet
some encouragement.†t
Annie’s delight shone in her face and rippled in her bird-like
voice, while her mother put on her hood and sack and lifted
her into the wagon, with a loving kiss.
“But how will she get home?†asked Mary, thoughtfully,
though as much pleased as her sister.
“Oh, I’ve arranged all that,†replied Charlie ; “T’m coming
home with her at recess. I shall have time enough to get back
to school before the bell rings.â€
Charlie kept his word, and every day for nearly two weeks
drew Annie to and from school till she was quite well and able
26
JOHNNY’S LESSON.
to walk. Of course, this involved some self-denial on his part,
for he enjoyed the usual play at recess with other boys as well
as any of them. But he felt more than repaid when he saw
his little sister so grateful and happy.
JOHNNY’S LESSON.
OHNNY BLAIR thought it fine sport, but not so the. .
chickens, when his cornstalk came thrashing about their
sides and over their heads. He didn’t feel the hurt. It was
all the same to him whether the cornstalk hit the rooster or the tub.
Off flew the scared chickens at Johnny’s attack, and then he
hid himself behind the fence and waited until hunger drew
them back. But only a few grains did he let them eat before
27
JOHNNY’S LESSON.
he was down on them, striking right and left with his cornstalk,
and hurting and frightening them again.
How he laughed to see them scamper away! Oh, it was fine
fun for the cruel boy. But just as he had enticed them back
for the third time and was raising his stick, the tables were
turned, and instead of the hens getting hurt and frightened,
Johnny’s shoulders felt the sudden smart of a birch rod vigor-
ously laid on.
“How do you like that, sir?†asked a rough voice, as Johnny
jumped about and writhed with pain. “Chickens have feelings
as well as boys,†said the farmer, who, hearing the cries of his
fowls, had come round to see what troubled them. “I hope you
will remember that.â€
Johnny slunk away, feeling rather badly in mind as well as
body. He knew that it was wrong to hurt dumb creatures, but,
like too many little boys, he was cruel towards the weak and
helpless. To be caught in his evil sport and get his back well
striped was anything but pleasant; and he went off towards his
home saying to himself as he went along, “He'd no right to
strike me. I’m not his boy; and I’ll tell father, so I will.â€
Just then he saw his father at work in a field, and, clamber-
ing over the fence, he ran towards him ; but stopped after going
a few paces. There were two sides to the story he was going to
tell him, and, after looking at both sides for a little while, he
thought it best to keep it all to himself. So he sat down on the
grass. He didn’t sit there long, for his angry feelings made
him restless, but got up and went out of the field into the road.
Then he saw a dog that ran up to him, wagging his tail. What
did Johnny do? Pat the dog on the head? No, he was in an
ill humor, and gave him a kick, at which the dog sprang upon
him and bit his hand until the blood came. He was frightened
at this, and thought, as he walked homeward, that in the future
it would be better to treat poor dumb creatures with kindness.
28
WHO MADE THE FLOWERS? -
Vi
WHO
yf AMMA, who made the pretty flowers
That blossom everywhere?
The daisies and forget-me-nots,
And violets so fair?
Who made the golden buttercups,
That in the meadows grow?
29
WHO MADE THE FLOWERS?
The bright-eyed little innocence,
And lilies white as snow?
Who made the wild red columbines,
And filled each tiny cup
With honey, which the little bees
So daintily sip up?
Who made the fragrant clover-fields,
That drink the summer showers?
It must have taken very long -
To make so many flowers.
Mamma, who keeps the flowers alive,
And clothes them every day.?
Who watches over them by night,
To keep all harm away ?
Tis God, my child, who formed the flowers
So exquisitely fair,
And they, with all his hand hath made,
His kind protection share.
He formed each leaf and opening bud,
With skill so nice and true;
He gave to some a golden tint,
To some a violet hue.
He shields the tender flowers by night,
And cares for them by day ;
He giveth to each different plant.
Its beautiful array.
He sends the soft refreshing rain,
The gentle summer showers,
30
NEDDY HARRIS.
And light, and air, and falling dew,
He giveth to the flowers.
’Tis the same God who formed the flowers
Makes my sweet child his care ;
Then daily raise thine infant heart
To him in grateful prayer.
E’VE had a good time, Tony, old fellow! haven’t we?â€
said Neddy Harris, who was beginning {9 feel tired
with his half-day’s ramble in the woods and fields.
And as he said this he sat down on a hill-side that overlooked
81
NEDDY HARRIS.
a pleasant valley, and from which he could see the clusters of
elms and maples that stood around his home.
Tony replied to his young master by a short bark and a
knowing twist of his waggish little head, which was as near as
he could come to saying, “A first-rate time, Master Neddy !â€
And then he seated himself also, and took a survey of the
country spread out beneath them. He looked very wise and
very sharp, as though he had charge of everything, and was on
the watch to see that nothing went wrong.. What kind cf
fancies played through his doggish brain I cannot tell, but I
think they had something to do with the supper that awaited
his arrival home.
“A grand good time!†added the boy, as his tired limbs felt
the comfort of a soft resting-place on the green turf. “And
now,†he continued, “as father says we should always do, Pll
just go back and think over what I’ve done this holiday
afternoon, and if I forgot myself in anything, and went wrong, it
will be best for me to know it, so that I can do better next time.â€
So Neddy turned his thoughts backward, and read out of the
book of ‘his memory what had been written down there by an
invisible pen during the past few hours. Now, this book of
memory is a very wonderful book. Did you-ever think of it?
Every instant of time in which we are awake, and often when
asleep, an invisible penman is writing in it every one of our
thoughts and actions, good or bad, and we have no power to
blot out the writing.
“T’m sorry about that poor squirrel,†said Neddy. “He
never did me any harm. What a beautiful little creature he
was, with his bright black eyes and shiny skin!â€
And the boy’s face grew sad, as well it might, for he had
pelted this squirrel with stones from tree to tree, and at last
knocked him to the ground, when Tony, with one grip of his
sharp teeth, made an end of him.
82
LOST AND FOUND.
“T don’t blame Tony,†said the boy. “ He’s only a dog, and
doesn’t know any better. But it was so cruel in me! Now,
if I live a hundred years, I'll never harm another squirrel.
God made these frisky little fellows, and they’ve just as much
tight to live as I have.â€
Neddy felt better about the squirrel after this good resolution,
which he meant to keep.
LOST AND FOUND.
FRIEND of mine while traveling in Germany heard
this story, which I shall tell you.
Little Fritz, the only child of a peasant, wandered
away from his home one day with nothing on but his in-door
clothing, and his head covered only with his long bright curls. '
It was some time before he was missed. Mamma thought he
was with auntie, and auntie was quite sure that he was with
mamma. But when mamma and auntie met, they found to
their great dismay that the dear little boy was missing.
All over the house they searched, among neighboring houses
and through the whole street, but in vain. Then the neighbors
came, and all the night that followed they searched everywhere
for the missing child. The mother, as she walked the house
nearly frantic with grief, pictured to herself her baby-boy lying
upon the ground crying bitterly for mamma. Ah me! They
were heart-breaking visions that came to the minds of both
parents through those long, dark hours! It was a night never
to be forgotten ; a night remembered afterwards with shuddering
and tears. _
In the morning they brought tidings to the parents that a
man living a few miles out of the city had found the little boy
the afternoon before wandering near a railroad station, and fear-
33
LITTLE MOTHER.
ing that some harm might befall him he had taken him to his
own home, warmed and fed him, and laid him tenderly to sleep
in his own bed.
When the mother saw the man coming she bounded from the
house, her loving arms outstretched, and clasped to her a
the little wanderer.
When money was offered to the kind man, he ahbok his.
head. “No,†said he, “I have children, and if they are ever
lost or in trouble, I shall want some one to be kind to them.
No money!†And he walked away, bearing the blessing of the
happy parents.
LITTLE MOTHER.
ARK how the wind blows, Effie,
Father is coming to-night.
On your wicker chair sit, dearie,
Now that the fire burns bright.
All the long day I’ve been toiling,
Washing and cleaning away,
Brushing the bars till they glisten,
While you were prattling at play.
Hark how the kettle is singing,
Singing with pussy in time,
While the sweet bells of the steeple
Ring out their musical chime.
Father is coming, my birdie;
You he will take on his knee,
Then, with a kiss on my forehead,
Whisper a blessing for me.
34
nd :
=L AUDERBACH St
LITTLE FRITZ’S MOTHER GOING OUT TO MEET HIM.
THE SQUIRREL HUNT.
Ah! if our mother could only
Take the sad look from his brow,
Which has been there since she left him!
Mother, oh, where are you now?
Can you look down on your darling,
Striving to fill up your place,
Eager, and anxious, and willing,
Weary for want of your face?
There, darling Effie, I will not
Sadden your bright little brow ;
See, dear, the supper for father:
Father will shortly come now.
Bring his red slippers and warm’ them,
While I make toast for his tea;
There is his step on the threshold,—
Meet him, my darling, with glee.
Show him your loving face, Effie,
Smile all the care from his brow,
Maybe from some far-off region
Mother is watching us now.
THE SQUIRREL HUNT.
GRAY squirrel was busy one pleasant autumn day i in
gathering nuts and storing them up for winter in the
hollow of an old tree. A farmer was chopping wood
not far off, and his axe rang loudly through the forest, but this
sound did not trouble our squirrel, for he had heard it often
before and knew that it meant no harm for him.
36
HUNTING THE SQUIRREL..
THE SQUIRREL HUNT.
But there came other sounds on the air—children’s voices
and the barking of a dog. At this the squirrel started in
alarm. The children saw him and gave a loud shout, and the
two dogs that were with them went tearing after the frightened
animal, making the woods ring with their fierce yelpings.
The dogs were so close upon the poor squirrel when he saw
them that escape seemed almost impossible. But close by there
lay a hollow log, and into this he darted just as one of the dogs
was about seizing him.
“We've got you now, old fellow!†cried the dbHdien as the
dogs sprang into the hollow of the tree to seize the squirrel.
But squirrel was not so easily caught. He was smaller than
the dogs, and could go in a great deal farther to keep out of
their reach. The dogs barked and yelped and growled, but it
was of no use. Squirrel was safe from their teeth. He had
been in that log many a time before and knew just how to get —
out of it at the other end. He had whisked through like a
flash, and was springing up into the tree at the very moment
when the dogs were looking for him in the dark hollow of the
log.
The farmer cut away with his axe, but when he had laid the
log open from end to end no squirrel was to be found.
You are glad squirrel got away. I can see it, children, in
the gladness that beams from your eyes.
WHEN we begin to count over our own goodness, and admire
it, and contrast it with our neighbors’, thinking how much
better we are than they, then, in angels’ eyes, our good deeds
are like tarnished gold and frost-bitten flowers.
\
38
IN PAPA’S STUDY.
IN PAPA’S STUDY.
OGUES! you are there, are you, peeping again?
How do you think I am going to write?
© For just as soon as I take up my pen,
Down you come stealing, be it morning or night.
Creeping on tiptoe, you think I can’t hear you;
Fingers on lips, not a word do you say.
Scamper away, you rogues, quickly! I fear you
Will find papa’s study a bad place to play.
oe
ro)
ul
You won’t? Then come in, with your laughter and noise
Why should we work when there’s play to be done?
Leave then behind you your books and your toys,
For we know the way to have glorious fun.
39
LITTLE MARY.
Romping and frolicking, oh, it is splendid!
Chairs tumbled down in a terrible plight,
Books scattered, papers dropped; when it is ended,
I shall be glad if my inkstand’s all right.
Now I have got you, my girlie, I’ll hold you
Prisoner of war—not a word shall you speak ;
Close to my bosom my arms shall enfold you,
And press your soft face to my rough bearded cheek, a
What? O you cowards! you two must surrender,
And creep to my arms to be kissed o’er and o’er ; \
Never was captor so loving and tender,
Never were captives so willing before.
LITTLE MARY.
EAR little Mary, with eyes so blue,
What has Santa Claus brought for you?
He has brought me a cup and a curly sheep,
And a cradle where dolly may go to sleep.
But best of all is this funny box,
That winds with a key just like the clocks.
And when you’ve wound the spring up tight,
The monkey dances with all his might.
And Fido barks and the puppies play:
We're all very happy this Christmas-day.
40
Z
Yi
y
yr
Ly
WHAT SANTA CLAUS BROUGHT TO MARY.
MY FIRST SUMMER IN THE COUNTRY.
HEN I was a little girl, years and years ago, I lived in
the city. My home was a brick house three stories
high, with white marble steps and close white shutters
to the windows of the first story. In front of the house was a
brick pavement, and two beautiful maple-trees shaded both
house and pavement.
At the back of the house was a tiny yard about as large as a
good-sized bedroom, with a brick-paved path all around a little
grass-plot the size of a counterpane in the centre.
And that back yard, with its grass-plot, vines, and flower-
pots, was all I knew of flower-gardens and fields, and that
shaded street gave me almost my only idea of a grove. .
One summer mamma’s health was very poor, and the doctor
said she must go to the country for a few months. It was of
course understood if she went I must go, as I was an only
child. So papa engaged board for us at a farm-house not so
far from the city but that he could spend Sunday with us.
I think that was the happiest summer I ever passed.
Mamma seemed to enjoy herself, too, and her health improved
wonderfully.
I got many a ride in the cart or wagon eit the farmer, .
whom I learned to respect very much in spite of his Working-
clothes.
I used to sit by the hour under the willow down in the
meadow, fishing in the clear stream that ran dancing along its.
banks, fringed with rushes and forget-me-nots.
But of all these pleasures I think I enjoyed apple-gathering
as much as anything. I would go out with the two young ladies
of the family, and we would find in the orchard a ladder and
42
en pS eae earn
ay
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II i) ‘
We
|
Gy, IR
i | ae
i} \ ay
rn
iS
ite
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HOW WE GATHERED APPLES.
MOLLY’S FUNNY SONG.
baskets all ready for our use; one of us would mount the
ladder, and sometimes climb up into the tree itself, and hand
down the fruit to the two below, who would place it carefully
in the baskets. '
It was mounting the ladder and climbing the trees that
made this work so enjoyable to me. I soon learned to do it
readily; I was so much smaller and lighter than the others that
I could venture farther out on the limbs to reach the fruit, besides
my short skirts being less likely to get entangled in the branches.
It soon became a settled thing that I should do the climbing.
I have spent my summers in the country ever since. Now
I am a grown woman and have a home of my own, which is,
of course, in the country, and I live in it in the winter as well.
as in the summer. To be sure, it is sometimes cold and bluster-
ing here in the winter, but then it cannot be much better in the
city at the same time, and it is so often damp, sloppy, and
_ disagreeable there. Besides, there are no birds in the city in
the winter, while here the snow-birds and chippys and robins
and blue-birds and cedar-birds keep us almost as lively during
the winter as in the summer.
Yes, I think I like the country best.
MOLLY’S FUNNY SONG.
H, queer little stitches,
You surely are witches,
To bother me so!
I’m trying to plant you:
Do stay where I want you,
All straight in a row.
44
MOLLY’S FUNNY SONG.
Now keep close together !
I never know whether
You'll do as I say.
Why can’t you be smaller?
You really grow taller,
Try hard as I may!
There! now my thread’s knotted,
My finger is dotted
With sharp needle-pricks !
I mean to stop trying ;
1 cannot help crying ;
Oh, dear, what a fix!
45
MOLLY’S FUNNY SONG.
~ Yes, yes, little stitches,
I know you are witches,—
I’m sure of it now,—
Because you don’t bother
Grown people like mother
When they try to sew.
You love to bewilder
Us poor little “childerâ€
(As Bridget would say),
By jumping and dancing,
And leaping and prancing,
And losing your way.
Hear the bees in the clover!
Sewing “over and overâ€
They don’t understand.
I wish I was out there,
And playing about there
In that great heap of sand!
The afternoon’s going ;
I must do my sewing
Before I can play.
Now behave, little stitches,
Like good-natured witches,
The rest of the day.
I'd almost forgotten -
About waxing my cotton,
As good sewers do ;
And—oh, what a memory !—
Here is my emery
To help coax it through.
46
DUTY FIRST.
I’m so nicely provided,
I’ve really decided
To finish the things.
There’s nothing like trying;
My needle is fiying
As if it had wings.
There, good-by, little stitches!
You obstinate witches,
‘You're punished, you know.
You’ve been very ugly,
But now you sit snugly
Along in a row.
DUTY FIRST.
HE summer noonday sun shone broadly and brightly over
the hay-fields. The birds sang in the trees; the rabbits
ran in and out of the hollows; the insects hummed
overhead ; the merry little brook went tumbling along; and the
fish came leaping out every now and then, their silver sides
flashing in the warm light.
In the hay-fields the mowers were busy, and borne on the
gentle wind, softened to a musical murmur, came the voices of
the men and the sharpening of their scythes.
Ben and his little cousins Jenny and Jake were as happy and
light-hearted this bright summer’s day as any three children
could possibly be.
They were in the middle of an exciting game, when Ben
heard his mother calling him, and ran to the house to see what —
she wanted.
47
DUTY FIRST.
“Ben dear,†she said, “it is your father’s dinner-time, and I
have made him some stew. He is working in Farmer Rix’s
hay-field, and I should be glad if you would take him his
dinner. Here it is, in this little pail. Be careful, not to spill
any of it, my boy, for. it is not often that I can afford to buy
meat nowadays.â€
Ben took the pail and started back, but on his way met some
boys ;‘setting the pot down in a corner of the fence, he began to
play with them.
It was a good two hours before he remembered the errand on
which he had been sent. The game had been so new and so
full of fun that the thought of his poor father working in the
hot sun had quite escaped his memory.
“Oh dear me!†he cried suddenly, “how stupid I’ve been!
T don’t know what father will say at being kept waiting so long,
and the broth is all cold.â€
When he got to where his father was at work, he saw him
standing by the fence, talking to his mother; both looked
anxious, but brightened up when they saw Ben.
His father after waiting some time for his dinner had gone
home, and there heard that Ben had started so long before with
the dinner they feared he had got lost or hurt in some way, and
his mother had come back to help find him.
Mrs. Brown felt very sad when she heard the truth, but
thought that Ben’s sorrow was punishment enough. Ben
resolved then and there that he would always make duty come
before pleasure.
We are happy to say that Ben kept his resolution, and
through life he found that the happiest as well as the safest
motto was, “ Duty first.â€
a ta
THE MILKNAN’S DOGS.
THE MILKMAN’S DOGS.
ERE we have a picture of two dogs that belong to a
milkman, who lives in the suburbs of London, He
° has trained them to draw the little cart in which the
cans are placed. Early in the morning they come out of their
kennels and stand patiently at the door waiting to be har-
nessed. As soon as the cart is loaded and the man ready, off
they start, always stopping at the right places, and giving a
short, sharp bark, to show that they are there, standing quietly
until the customers are served. These dogs are great, favorites
along the route, and get many a nice piece of meat from the
rosy-cheeked housemaids. They seem to enjoy their work,
and when it is over lie down most contentedly, and, I have no
doubt, feel as we all do after having well performed a duty.
49
THE COW.
HE cattle are grouped round the shadowing trees,
T’ escape from the flies, that love to tease; |
As, swinging their tails, they stand or lie
Under the branches, so sleepily.
But one pretty cow—she stands alone,
So patient and gentle, as still as a stone;
And, though she is milked, she is never afraid,
For well she knows Gretchen, the milking maid.
In the light summer breeze the tree-top is rocking,
And Gretchen not idle keeps knitting her stocking,
Providing thus early to keep warm her feet
In winter’s cold season of frost and of sleet.
Come, let us walk down in that meadow fair,
Where starry daisies and buttercups are ;
And Gretchen will give, all so friendly and free,
A nice cup of milk to you and to me.
ty
OnE morning little Dora was busy at the ironing-table
smoothing the towels and stockings.
“Tsn’t it hard work for the little arms?†I asked.
A look of sunshine came into her face as she glanced towards
her mother, who was rocking the baby.
“Tt isn’t hard work when I do it for mamma,†she said,
softly.
How true it is that love makes labor sweet!
50
GRETCHEN AND HER COW.
THE CHARITY THAT COVERETH.
EAR MOSS,†said the old Thatch, “I
“¢% am so worn, so patched, so ragged;
really I am quite unsightly. I wish you
would come and cheer me up a little; you
will hide all my infirmities and defects, and
through your loving sympathy no finger of
contempt or dislike will be pointed at me.â€
“YT come,†said the Moss; and it crept up
and around, and in and out, till every flaw
was hidden, and all was smooth and fair.
Presently the sun shone out, and old Thatch
looked glorious in the golden rays.
“How beautiful the thatch looks!†cried
one.
“How beautiful the thatch looks!†cried
another.
~ “Ah!†eried the old Thatch, “rather let
them say how beautiful is the loving Moss,
that spends itself in covering all my faults,
keeping the knowledge of them all to her-
self, and by her own grace making my age
and poverty wear the garb of youth and
luxuriance.â€
52
THE CROOKED WINDOW PANE.
THE CROOKED WINDOW PANE.
TITTLE EDDIE was playing at the window, when all at
< onee he looked very much puzzled, and turning to his
mother, who sat beside him, said,—
“Oh, mamma, I did not know that there was a hollow in our
back yard.†“
“Are you quite sure that there is one there, Eddie?†asked
his mother. “TI think you must have made a mistake.â€
“Yes, there is one there,†said Eddie, “and a big crooked
tree, too. I can see them just as plain as can be. Come and
see for yourself, mamma.â€
His mother went to the window and looked out, and sure
enough there were the hollow and the crooked tree. Eddie
greatly wondered why he had never seen these before. His
mother told him to look through another pane and see how
things appeared. He did so, but could see no hollow, or crooked
tree either. The yard was level and the trees all straight.
His mother explained matters to him just the best she could.
She told him that there were wrinkles and flaws in the pane he
53
BEAUTIFUL ROSES.
looked througn at first, and these made the objects in the yard
look crooked. —
After all these things were made plain to Eddie, his mother
taught a very fine lesson. She said,—
“There are some little boys and girls who have crooked eyes.
I don’t mean that they are cross-eyed, but that they are cross
and hateful, and this makes them think that everybody else is
out of sorts. At other times they are pleasant and happy, and
then they think that everybody is pleasant and happy, too.
“ Now, Eddie, if you want other people to appear ugly, be
hateful and cross yourself. If you want others to appear to
look through smiling eyes, look through smiling eyes yourself;
and if you want others to be kind to you, you must be kind
to them. ‘Do to others as you would have others do to you.’ â€
BEAUTIFUL ROSES. °
OOD-MORNING,, little darling ;
Pray have you come to-day
For flowers all fresh and beautiful,
To make a garland gay ?†.
“Yes, John; will you please give me
Some roses not quite blown?
Dear pa is going to make me
A pretty birthday crown.â€
“ A crown, my little darling?
That soon will fade away :
One that will never wither
I hope you'll wear some day.â€
54
=
ASKING aoe THE Mu
A FAITHFUL SHEPHERD BOY.
ERHARDT was a German shepherd boy, and a noble
fellow he was too, although he was very poor.
One day while he was watching his flock, which was
feeding in the valley on the borders of a forest, a traveler came
out of the forest and asked,—
“ How far is it to the nearest village?â€
“Six miles, sir,†replied the boy; “but the road is only a
sheep-track, and very easily missed.â€
The traveler glanced at the crooked track and said, “My lad,
T am hungry, tired, and thirsty. I have lost my companions
and missed my way. Leave your sheep and show me the road.
I will pay you well.â€
“TJ cannot leave my sheep, sir,†rejoined Gerhardt. “They
would stray into the forest and be eaten by wolves, or stolen by
robbers.â€
“Well, what of that?†queried the traveler. “They are
not your sheep. The loss of one or more would not. be much
to your master, and I’ll give you more money than you have
earned in a whole year.â€
“TJ cannot go, sir,†rejoined Gerhardt very firmly. “My
master pays me for my time, and he trusts me with his sheep.
If I were to sell my time, which does not belong to me, and
the sheep should get lost, it would be the same as if I stole
them.â€
“Well,†said the traveler, “will you trust your sheep with
me while you go to the village and get some food and drink,
and a guide? I will take good care of them for you.â€
The boy shook his head. “The sheep,†he said, “do not
know your voice, and: †Gerhardt stopped speaking.
56
A FAITHFUL SHEPHERD BOY.
“And what? Can’t you trust me? Do I look like a
dishonest man ?†asked the traveler, angrily.
“Sir,†said the boy, “you tried to make me false to my
trust, and wanted me to break my word to my master. How
do I know you would keep your word to me?â€
The traveler laughed, for he felt that the boy had fairly
conquered him.
Gerhardt now offered the contents of his scrip to the hungry
man, who, coarse as it was, ate it greedily. Presently his
attendants came up, and then Gerhardt, to his surprise, found
that the traveler was the grand duke, who owned all the coun-
try around. The duke was so pleased at the boy’s honesty
that he sent for him shortly after and had him educated. In
after-years Gerhardt became a very rich and powerful man,
but he remained honest and true to his dying day.
57
THE LITTLE GRAY HEN.
NE beautiful spring day, when the magnolias and azalias
were in bloom, we went out to Greenwood Cemetery, in
Brooklyn; and on our way saw a little, gray, trim-
looking hen walking slowly beside the road, lifting her yellow
feet so high and leisurely that they lay awhile at every step
hidden among the feathers. .
She was clucking and talking, as hens talk, to her brood of—
not chickens, as one would think they ought to have been, led
round and talked to by a little gray hen, but they were long-
necked, web-footed yellow and white goslings.
Looking on, we said the hen was a goose in one sense, if she
wasn’t in every.
She scratched, looking for food. And if she found worm or
insect, she called her brood, and they came running with tHeir
clumsy legs. We wondered she did not know they were not
chickens when she saw them running.
I do not know how she found it out at last, nor when. But
she found it out some time, some way, for we went out again
late in the season, when the flaming salvias and clirysanthe-
mums had succeeded the early magnolias, and the tender green
of spring had ripened into the crimson and purple and gold of
autumn, and we saw the same little gray hen out in the frosty
grass alone.
She laid her feet up against her feathers this time, too; but
not this time because she felt so proud and nice (or so we
believed), but because she was cold. .
The goslings, grown up now into white-necked geese, made
a great show. The gray hen was but a little creature beside
them. Or she wasn’t exactly beside them. She was up by
58
THE LITTLE GRAY HEN.
the fence, and looked lonely enough, while they were at the
roadside, where water was standing in little pools.
They seemed to have forgotten that she had so faithfully led
them about, had given up nearly all the seeds and worms to
them, had run after every dog and goat that came near,
hovering over them at night, and on stormy days taking upon
her own back the whole drenching.
Of course we could not find out how she felt about it.
“Perhaps she had no feeling,†we said. ‘Perhaps hens
never do have, although they seem to have if anything threatens
their young.â€
But we thought she looked grave, and pitied her.
We said,—“ Biddy, faithful old Biddy, you shall have some-
thing warm at Christmas; they shall be killed and eaten.
Hang up your stocking as the children do, good Biddy—only
you haven’t a stocking to your feet, you poor thing! and never
will have if it is ever so cold.â€
When, lo! as we condoled, the creature lifted her wings in.
the lively way hens have of doing it when they feel nicely
about the sunshine or anything, laid them down again on her
sides, looked up brightly towards the clear sky; then, stepping
as if she were a queen, and a contented one, too, she walked
slowly on around the corner of the garden, towards the house,
giving not one look—probably giving no thought—to the group
of white-necked, water-loving geese at the roadside.
So we knew she was a wise, contented hen, that needed
neither our gifts nor our pity.
We learned a lesson from her content. And, by that time,
we were where the clipped hedgerows lined our way, and the
beautiful gate of Greenwood displayed itself before us.
CAUGHT AT LAST!
ES, here he is. Here is the mouse that has been making
himself so much at home in the storeroom. He had a
hole in one corner, and took good care never to come
out of it when old Muff, the cat, was around; for he was a sly
little mouse.
But last night he saw a nice bit of cheese inside of something
that looked very much like a wire dish-cover. ‘That cheese
smells good,†thought he: “I will taste of it. I am a judge of
cheese.â€
So he crept in through a little round hole that seemed to have
been made on purpose for him, and nibbled away with a good
relish. All of a sudden, he heard a noise that startled him.
“I must be off!†thought he. Off he darted; but, dear me!
he couldn’t find his way out.. The little door through which he
came was fast closed. He tried to squeeze through the wires;
he tried to gnaw them: but it was of no use. He was barred
in on all sides.
Then it flashed across him, “This is not a dish-cover at all.
I ought to have known better than to come in here. This is a
trap; and I am caught at last.†Of course, the poor little mouse
must have felt sad enough then. There was some cheese left;
but he had no appetite for it. He sat trembling in the middle
of the cage. He was not a bit hurt; but he was dreadfully
frightened.
Well, the first person that came to him was our Mary, with
baby in her arms ready for a bath; she sat him on the floor,
gave him his horse, and told him to watch mousey until she
came back.
I hope he won’t put his finger near the cage: don’t you? the
mouse might bite him.
60
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MARY AND THE LITTLE MOUSE.
WHAT THE OAK-TREE SAID TO THE LITTLE
CHILD.
WAS once an acorn green
Lying in my cradle-bed,
Peeping through the leafy screen
To watch the sunbeams overhead.
Idly swaying all day long
In the green and golden light,
Listening to the bluebird’s song,
Watching for his sudden flight.
Just below me lay a pool
Within the moss-grown root’s embrace,
With trembling shadows gray and cool
Upon her dimpled face.
And woodland creatures gathered there -
For shelter from the noontide heat,
The dappled fawn, the timid hare,—-
"Twas Nature’s own retreat.
The bright-eyed squirrel loved to view
Her image in the glassy lake,
The oriole her plumage knew,
And paused a second glance to take.
E’en the sweet woodbine from her bower
Leaned o’er the marge her wreath to twine.
And shook ,the dewdrops in a shower
From fiow’ret, leaf, and vine.
62
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THE OAK THAT GREW FROM THE ACORN.
WHAT THE OAK-TREE SAID.
By night the fairies came and danced
In moonlit circles on the grass,
While glow-worms shone and meteors glanced,
Until the magic hour should pass.
Thus fled my youth, until one day
I fel] into the mouldering earth ;
In dull obstruction there I lay,
And bade farewell to joy and mirth.
But soon I felt my pulses move
Responsive to a higher life ;
Within my heart a germ of love
Whispered of days with glory rife.
And so I grew a mighty tree,
And for a century have stood
Upon the very spot you see,
But where is now the wood?
With hoary locks alone I stand,
And sigh for all the “loved and lost,â€
The monarch of a barren land,
By storm and tempest tossed.
O days of youth! my pearly crown*
I'd gladly give, if I might be
An acorn in an acorn cup—
A little child like thee.
* Mistletoe.
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THE BEST WAY TO BE
THE BEST WAY TO BE HAPPY.
THINK I should like to be happy to-day,
Tf I could but tell which was the easiest way ;
But then, I don’t know any pretty new play:
And as to the old ones,—why, which is the best?
There’s fine blindman’s-buff, hide-and-seek, and the rest;
Or, pretending it’s tea-time, when dollies are dressed !
But no—let me see? now I’ve thought of a way,
Which would make me quite happy at work or at play;
I'll try to be good, if I can, the whole day,—
Without any fretting or crying: oh, no,
That makes me unhappy wherever I go,
And ’t would be a pity to spoil the day so.
BIRDIE AND BABY.
aie does little birdie say,
In her nest at peep of day?
' “Let me fly,†says little birdie,
“Mother, let me fly away.†.
“ Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger.â€
So she rests a little longer, |
Then she flies away.
What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day ?
Baby says, like little birdie,
“Let me rise and fly away.†—
“ Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer, .
Baby, too, shall fly away.â€
EARLY TO BED.
EARLY TO BED.
ON’T say early to bed.â€
“Why not, Georgie?â€
“Oh, ’cause it’s so nice to
sit up; I like it.â€
“And you like sugar-plums, and
would eat a pound a day if I’d let
you, Georgie. They’re so nice! ee |
But that would do you a great deal of ee It would so
disturb the healthy action of your stomach that it could not
rightly digest your food, and so you would grow weak and
sickly, and have a miserable time of it. Let me read you
something about the good sleep does little boys and girls:
67
EARLY TO BED.
“Many children, instead of being plump and fresh as a
peach, are as withered and wrinkled as last year’s apples, be-
cause they do not sleep enough. Some physicians think that
the bones grow only during sleep. This I cannot say, certainly,
but I do know that those little folks who sit up late at nights
are usually nervous, weak, small, sickly.
“The reason you need more sleep than your parents is because
you have to grow and they do not. They can use up the food
they eat in thinking, talking, and walking, while you should
save some of yours for growing. You ought to sleep a great
deal; if you do not, you will in activity consume all you eat,
and have none, or not enough, to grow with.
“Very few smart children excel, or even equal, other people
when they grow up. Why is this? Because their heads, if
not their bodies, are kept too busy, so that they cannot sleep,
rest, and grow strong in body and brain. Now, when your
mother says, Susie, or Georgie, or whatever your name may be,
it is time to go to bed, do not worry her by begging to sit up
‘just a little longer,’ but hurry off to your chamber, remember-
ing that you have a great deal of sleeping and growing to do to
make you a healthy, happy, useful man or woman.
“There, now, Georgie dear! If you want to be a healthy,
happy, and useful man go early to bed, and get all the good out
of sleep it is possible for you to obtain.â€
“T guess [ll go,†said Georgie, who was pretty tired, for he
was a busy little fellow, and played hard all day.
So off he went, and by the time his head touched its pillow,
he was in the land of dreams.
Cuariry is never lost; it may be of no service to those it is
bestowed upon, yet it ever does a work of beauty and grace
upon the heart of the giver.
68
THE FARMER’S PARROT.
NE beautiful spring a farmer, after working busily for
several weeks, succeeded in planting one of the largest
fields in corn; but the neighboring crows committed sad
havoc with it. The farmer, however, not being willing that the
germs of a future crop should be destroyed by either fair or
foul means, determined to drive the bold marauders to their
nests. Accordingly, he loaded his rusty gun, with the inten-
tion of giving them upon their next visit a warm reception.
Now the farmer had a parrot, as talkative and mischievous
as those birds usually are; and being very tame it was allowed
its freedom to come and go at pleasure. “ Pretty Poll†being
a lover of company, without much caring whether good or bad,
hopped over all obstructions, and was soon engaged in the
farmer-like occupation of raising corn.
The farmer with his gun sallied forth. Reaching his corn-
field he saw at a glance (though he overlooked the parrot) the
state of affairs. Leveling his gun, he fired, and with the
report was heard the death-scream of three crows, and an
agonizing shriek from poor Poll.
On looking among the murdered crows, great was the farmer’s
surprise to see stretched upon the ground his mischievous parrot,
with feathers sadly ruffled and a broken leg.
“You foolish bird,†cried the farmer, “this comes of keeping
pad company.â€
On carrying it to the house, the children, seeing its wounded
leg, exclaimed,—
“What did it, papa,—what hurt our pretty Poll?â€
“Bad company—bad company!†answered the parrot in a
solemn voice.
“Ay, that it was,†said the farmer. “ Poll was with those
69
ANNA’S STAY AT THE SEASIDE.
wicked crows when I fired, and received a shot intended for |
them. Remember the parrot’s fate, children, and beware of
bad company.â€
With these words the farmer turned round, and with the
aid of his wife bandaged the broken leg, and in a few weeks
the parrot was as lively as ever, but never forgot its adventure
in the corn-field; and if ever the farmer’s children engaged in
play with quarrelsome companions, it invariably dispersed them
with its ery, ‘ Bad company—bad company !†‘
ANNA'S STAY AT THE SEASIDE.
NNA GRAY’S health was so poor one summer that the
doctor said nothing but a few weeks at the seaside would
do her any good. So her father, Mr. Gray, found a
quiet place down by the sea, where he engaged board for Anna
and her mother. Anna was at first much pleased with the ex-
citement of traveling, but she was tired before she reached her
journey’s end, and her head ached from the jar and noise of
the cars. She was very glad to go to bed as soon as she had
eaten her supper, without taking even a look at the ocean.
But the next morning she went out with her mamma on the
sand. When she first caught sight of the immense stretch of
water, she felt very frightened. It seemed as if the great waves
would roll right upon her and crush her. But she soon found
that after they had broken in a long white line of surf near the
shore, they came creeping harmlessly in until they at last
gently lapped the sand at her feet. Then she took off her shoes
and stockings and stood in the sand and let the water come up
around her feet. Sometimes, when a bigger wave than usual
came in, she would have to scamper to get out of its way.
70
NAWAN, DEL a=
THE POOR MOTHER WATCHING FOR HER LOST BABY.
ANNA'S STAY AT THE SEASIDE.
One day while Anna and her mother were walking on the
beach, they saw a young woman leaning against a rock looking
far, far out to sea; her face had such a wild, troubled look on it
that Mrs. Gray asked some one what great sorrow she had
passed through. And this is the sad story that little Anna
listened to on the sand that bright summer morning. Several
weeks before, the woman had been walking on the beach with
her only child, a little girl about four years of age, who was
barefooted and would run close to the water to feel the warm
waves kiss her little brown feet. One moment more, and a great
wave has borne the child far out to sea. She gives one stifled
scream, and the mother turns in time to see the little form
she loves so dearly tossed hither and thither on the crested
waves. In her frenzy she rushes up and down, screaming for
help. It soon comes, but is too late; all efforts, even to recover
the lifeless baby, are fruitless. And every day the mother
stands as you see her in the picture, watching for one glimpse
of the baby buried in the pitiless ocean.
Little Anna’s eyes were filled with tears, and she felt very
sorry for the woman who had lost her little girl. And when
the roses came back to her cheeks, and she went home again,
she told her papa all about it.
Come look in my eyes, little children,
And tell me, through all the long day
Have you thought of the Father above us,
Who guarded from evil your way ?
He heareth the cry of the sparrow,
. And careth for great and for small ;
In life and in death, little children,
His love is the truest of all.
72
CHRISTMAS.
GAIN the Christmas holidays have come,
We soon will hear the trumpet and the drum;
We'll hear the merry shout of girls and boys
Rejoicing o’er their gifts of books and toys.
Old Santa Claus comes by at dead of night,
And down the chimney creeps—a funny sight !
73
LITTLE LOTTY.
He fills the stockings full of books and toys,
But puts in whips for naughty girls and boys.
One Christmas-eve the moon shone clear and bright ;
I thought I’d keep awake and watch all night,
But it was silent all around and stilled,
Yet in the morn I found my stockings filled.
I wonder where that queer old fellow lives,
And where he gets all the fine things he gives?
Some children think he’s one thing, some another,
But I suspect he’s only father and mother.
LITTLE LOTTY:
OTTY is the German nickname for Charlotte. The
little Lotty that I mean is the daughter of a German
shoemaker. Her father is only a journeyman, and
works very hard to earn a little money. Her mother has sev-
eral children younger than Lotty, and one of them is a baby.
Lotty does most of the housework, and helps with the cooking.
When her mother goes out to milk the cows for a neighbor,
she leaves Lotty to take care of the children. To-day she is
ironing, in a little back-room, and we must listen while she is
talking to herself.
“There, now,†says Lotty, “I think that neckerchief will do.
Father will look very nice in it, when he sits in church to-
morrow. I love to do anything to please father: it makes him
smile so, and smooths the wrinkles out of his forehead, just as
this iron smooths the muslin.
“I wonder what makes father look so sad. Perhaps it is be-
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LOTTIE’S MOTHER GOING OUT TO MILK THE COWS.
BE A GOOD GIRL.
cause he isso poor. Oh! I do wish I was older, so that I could
earn something for father and mother! But, patience, patience,
time flies very fast. Mother is sad, too, and the tears came
into her eyes when she was talking about paying the rent. But
they both seem glad when they look at us; that is because they
love us. I wish the crease would come out of that apron.
Well! my iron is cold. I'll put it down and take another.
“There, mother is back. I hear her singing. What hymn
is it? Oh! now I know,—‘Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to
thy bosom fly.’ I think it is mother’s darling, darling hymn.
Mine is—‘The Lord my pasture shall prepare.’ I am glad
that I went to Sunday-school, if it was only to learn that hymn.
Next Sunday the teacher will tell me something new, I know,
for he always says something we like to hear, and that does
us good, too. And he is so kind to teach us good.
“Now my ironing is all done, and after I have fed the
chicks, I will learn a new hymn, and some verses for next
Sunday.â€
BE A GOOD GIRL.
E a good girl, Dolly! Don’t do anything naughty while
I’m gone.â€
And Katy shook her finger at Dolly as she opened
the door to leave the room.
And what do you think was in Katy’s mind when she said
this? She had been playing with her Dolly for a good while,
when all at once she thought of the basket filled with cake she
had seen that morning in her mamma’s closet, and as soon as
she thought of the cake she began to want a plece.
But mamma had told her never to go to this closet to help
herself; so she tried not to think about the cake, but still the
76
KATY GOING TO THE CLOSET.
HOW DOLLIE DEANE SPOILED HER CHRISTMAS.
thought would come. ‘At last she said to herself, “I'll just get
a tiny little piece,â€â€”as if it wasn’t as wrong to take a little
piece as a big one.
So off Katy started, charging her Dolly to be a good girl.
As she opened the closet door she thought she heard her
mother’s voice. She stopped to listen. “Be a good girl, Katy!â€
It seemed as if the words were spoken aloud, so distinct did
they seem to her. “Don’t do anything naughty while I’m
gone.†Just what she had said to Dolly.
’ Katy stood wondering; then she said softly to herself, “I
guess it’s one of the angels mamma told me about. I was
going to be naughty, but I won’t.â€
And the little girl went back to her Dolly, and kissed it
fondly, saying, as she danced about the room, “Dear Dolly was
a good little girl and didn’t do anything naughty while its
mamma was gone!†é
HOW DOLLIE DEANE SPOILED HER CHRISTMAS.
\OLLIE was sitting in the bay-window, in the dusk, all
cuddled up, with her pet kitten in her arms.
“To-morrow night, Pussy,†said she, “I am going to
hang up my stocking right close by the sitting-room grate, and
old Kriss Kringle will fill it up full of beautiful presents. He
isn’t a real Kriss Kringle, you know,—it’s only papa and
mamma,—but I like to pretend it is an old fellow in furs and a
sleigh and all. Oh, dear, I wonder what I’ll get, anyhow !â€
Just then Dollie caught a glimpse of her papa standing in
the hall with his arms filled with bundles, and she heard her
mamma say in a whisper, “Put them in the lower bureau
drawer, where Dollie won’t find them.â€
78
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HOW DOLLIE DEANE SPOILED HER CHRISTMAS.
Here Dollie leaned forward and began to feel a keen interest
in the bundles and packages she was not to “find.â€
“Tn the lower bureau drawer,†she repeated to herself; “guess
I will find ’em.â€
Then Something whispered to her, “ But, Dollie, that would bea
. kind of stealing to go find what mamma wishes to /ide from you.â€
“No ’t won’t, neither,†answered Dollie’s self. “I’m just
going right up-stairs to see, now ;†and letting Pussy fall out of
her arms in her haste, she went up-stairs softly, and saw through
the crack of the door her papa busily opening parcel after par-
cel, and putting their contents in the lower bureau drawer.
Dollie waited until he had finished, then she hid herself be-
hind the door as he passed her on his way down-stairs.
Very softly crept littlé Dollie into her mamma’s room then.
Very cautiously she opened the lower drawer, and her eyes
danced with delight over what she saw there. A _ beautiful
Grande Duchesse doll, in pink satin; a little silver tea-set,
like mamma’s real one; a little blue locket and gold chain; a —
scarlet fan with a bird on it; a set of story-books, and great
papers full of candies.
Dollie took out the doll and examined it all over, opened the
locket and saw her mamma’s and papa’s picture, fanned herself
with the fan, peeped into the story-books, and ate several
of the candies before she heard the tea-bell ring and papa ask
where his “Dollie Dumpling†was.
Somehow supper didn’t taste good to Dalliee she was very
quiet, too, and papa wondered what was the matter with his
chatterbox. Mamma thought she looked feverish, and asked
if her head ached. Dollie said, “No, she was only sleepy,â€
but down in her heart Something was saying all the while,
“What a wicked, naughty, little girl you are to have stolen a
sight of the pretty presents your papa and mamma meant to
surprise you with !â€
; 79
THE DRAY HORSE AND THE RACER.
Christmas morning came, and when Dollie ran down-stairs
into the sitting-room where her two long, scarlet stockings hung
up by the grate, her papa and mamma thought she did not look
as surprised and delighted over her presents as they expected
she would.
“What is it, Dollie? Are your presents not what you
wanted ?†asked mamma.
“Yes—but ? :
“But what? You don’t look happy and pleased over them.â€
Then Dollie burst into tears, and between sobs and sniffles
confessed how she had spciled her Christmas by anticipating its
pleasures in stealing a look at the happiness in store for her.
“T thought it would be so nice to know everything,—and now I
don’t feel so happy,†sobbed Dollie.
“Ah, Dollie,†answered her mamma, “even grown people are
like you, sometimes. They want to look ahead and see what is
to be, when, if they would only wait and trust to the good
Father, everything would be all right in good time. If bless-
ings are ahead, we will enjoy them in due time. If sorrow, we
will feel it soon enough.â€
Dollie thought her mamma was right, and she determined she
would never spoil another Christmas by peeping in the lower
drawer to discover the presents her papa and mamma would
give to her in due time!
THE DRAY HORSE AND THE RACER.
HAT a dull life yours is!†said a racer to a dray horse.
“Dull enough,†said the dray horse.
“You must feel uncommonly stupid.â€
“Stupid enough,†said the dray horse.
80
THE DRAY HORSE AND THE RACER.
“Up and down, up and down, with great heavy loads all
day. No wonder your head hangs down. Why, you're just
a piece of machinery, and no better.â€
The dray horse didn’t answer, but continued doing his work;
but the racer, who was tethered near, repeated his remarks
every time he came within hearing.
“T’m afraid I’ve offended you,†said the racer.
“Oh no,†answered the dray horse; “but my quiet life has
this advantage in it—it gives me time to think before I speak.â€
“And have you been thinking while I have been talking ?â€
“Yes,†answered the dray horse, “and I’ll tell you what I’ve
been thinking: you're a very fine fellow, and I’m contemptible
in your sight, but I know which of us would be the most
missed. Depend on this: if I and my breed were to go away,
and no other substitutes could be found, folks would do without
racing, and take you and your breed into our places.â€
81
HALF-PAST EIGHT, AND HALF-PAST FOUR.
sfpave rast eight, half-past eight!
School-bell’s ringing—don’t be late !
Get your books, and pens, and papers; |
Don’t be cutting truant capers. |
Half-past eight, half-past eight!
School-bell’s ringing—don’t be late!
Half-past eight, half-past eight!
Who is he for whom we wait?
Lazy Jack !—why, this is folly !
Why d’ye look so melancholy ?
Don’t hang back—march out straight,
School-bell’s ringing—school won't wait!
Half-past four, half-past four !
Bell is ringing—school is o’er!
Master Jack is blithe and ready:
Needn’t hurry, Jack—march steady.
See the rogue, he runs about ;
He’s the very first boy out.
Half-past four, half-past four!
Bell is ringing—school is o’er.
82
LAZY JACK.
LACE-MAKING.
H see, mamma!†cried little Ellen; “ what a pretty picture
this is! Here is a woman looking at a chicken which
somebody is holding in at a window. Poor chicken!
I wonder if he is alive! It must hurt him to hang his head
down like that. I wonder if she is going to cook him for dinner!
Poor thing!â€
Mamma looked at ie picture, but did not hueee | to reply
to the string of exclamations the little girl poured out. Ellen
went on,4
“See, mamma! what is the woman doing? She looks as if
ske was holding a pin-cushion i in her lap and was sticking pins
in it.â€
“So she is, my dear,†Ellen’s mother remarked. “ But that
is not all she is doing. There is a cluster of bobbins hanging
down one side of the cushion which are wound with threads,
and these threads she weaves around the pins in such a manner
as to make lace. They do not make it in the United States.
The woman whom you see in the picture lives in Belgium, in
Europe. In that country, and in some parts of France and
Germany, many of the poorer people earn a living at lace-
~
making.â€
“Can they work fast ?â€
“ An accomplished lace-maker will make her hands fly as
fast as though she were playing the piano, always using the
right bobbin, no matter how many of them there may be. In
making the pattern of a piece of nice lace, from. two hundred
to eight hundred bobbins are sometimes used.â€
Elien thought she should never see a piece of nice lace with-
out thinking of these wonderful lace-makers, who produce such
delicate work and yet are paid so little for it, and while she was
thus thinking over the matter mamma went quietly on with her
sewing.
84
THE LACE MAKER LOOKING AT THE CHICKEN.
OUR “BOSSY.â€
H, I love our pretty “ Bossy,â€
Patient cow she is, and mild; |
Standing in the barn-yard musing,
Never is she cross or wild.
Oh, I love our pretty “ Bossy,â€
Standing in the winter’s sun,
Chewing still her cud so slowly,
Rolling it beneath her tongue.
Oh, I love to feed our “Bossy,â€
For I give her salt and hay ;
She repays me for my kindness,
Milk she gives me every day.
And I would not hurt our “ Bossy,â€
She is always kind to me,
And I know that I’m the gainer
If I kind and gentle be.
For the God who made our “ Bossyâ€
Loves to see His children mild,
And I’m sure He never loveth
Any cross or cruel child.
For He made both me and “ Bossy,â€
And He heeds the sparrow’s fall ;
Let us never hurt His creatures,
For His eye is over all.
86
WHAT PAPA TOLD ERMY.
WHAT PAPA TOLD ERMY.
ANY a time I have heard poor little pale-faced city
boys sigh and wish they lived in the country, where
they could breathe the fresh air and scamper merrily
over the green fields, instead of being cooped up between high
brick walls and compelled to play in the hot and dusty streets.
And just as often I have heard round-faced little country boys
with cheeks so red that the very birds would almost oO
into thinking they were great, round, red peaches growihg on
purpose for them to peck at, get fretful and cross just because
they couldn’t live in the great city, where they imagined every
pleasure clustered and every desire was gratified.
I suppose no little boy, and I fear I must include many of
87
WHAT PAPA TOLD ERMY.
the grown folks, was ever quite satisfied with his own lot in
life; and as the feeling is perfectly natural, we will not quarrel
about it.
City boys would soon get tired of the quiet country and the
green fields, and long to get back to their tops and marbles in
the dusty streets, and it would not be very long before the rosy
cheeks of the country boy would get pale, and he would give
anything in the great, noisy city to get back to the babbling
brooks and the green meadows, the gray squirrels and birds’
nests that can only be found in the country. I know, because
I was once a country boy, and after I went to the city to live
many were the nights on which I cried myself to sleep and
wanted to go home. ,
I want to tell you about a Lion I had when I lived in the
country.
He was a great, shaggy beast, with curly black hair,-and a
long tail that nearly touched the ground, and a pair of eyes
terrible to look at when he was angry, but that wasn’t very
often, for he really was the kindest and most loving Lion you
ever saw,—not a fierce wild beast from the jungle, but only a
splendid Newfoundland dog. No wonder I never was afraid
of him, because we were good friends and playmates. Why, 1
could ride on his back just as though he were a horse, and we
would lie down on the grass together when we were tired, and
he would put his paws over my neck and hug me, and kiss me
too, sometimes, when I wasn’t watching, as well as any dog
could do. And I could put my hand in his mouth, and feel
his sharp white teeth, and then he would shut his jaws and pre-
tend to bite me, but only in fun; and when I pretended to be
afraid and ran away from him, he would scamper after me as
nimble as a squirrel, and throw me down and roll over and
over, he barking and I shouting and laughing, as happv as we
could be. .
aR
WHAT PAPA TOLD ERMY.
Once Lion got into trouble, and met with an accident that
was funny enough to me, but poor Lion couldn’t see “where the
laugh came in.â€
We were out in the apple-orchard, and busy enough looking
for eggs, for our hens were great “gad-abouts,†and would run
away from the chicken-yard and lay their eggs in all sorts of
places, but Lion and I knew pretty well “all their tricks and
their manners,†and generally found out where Mrs. Cackle and
Mrs. Cluck had hidden them. So, while we were keeping a
sharp lookout for eggs, I spied a queer-looking thing up an _
apple-tree that looked like a bunch of old newspapers all matted
together. Lion saw it and began to bark, and I got a pole and
began to punch at it, when down it came right at Lion’s feet.
How he did pounce on it! And how quickly he let go again!
And the next moment he was making a “bee-line†for the
house, running like a race-horse and howling at every jump.
I laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks, and wondered
what was the matter with the dog; but pretty soon I found out.
Something struck me in the mouth, and in just two seconds I
was making a bee-line for my mother, crying as loudly as Lion
was howling. Do you want to know what was the matter?
Well, I had torn down a hornet’s nest, that was all, and both
Lion and I got pretty well stung for our pains! As the Irish-
man said, “The hornet is a mighty purty bird, but he has a
very hot fut!†I soon got over the pain, after I had been
pretty well pickled and rubbed down in salt, but Lion rolled
over in the grass a thousand times, and finally ran into the
goose-pond, and stayed there nearly all day. For two or three
days afterward he looked very sheepish, and seemed to hang
his head and look sorry whenever any of us said “hornets!â€
But it was many a day before he would fo!iow me into the
apple-orchard again.
HOUSEHOLD TREASURES.
Y heart is filled with gladness
When I behold how fair,
¢ How bright are rich men’s children,
With their thick golden hair !
For I know ’mid countless treasure,
Gleaned from the east and west, .
These living, loving, human things,
Are still the rich man’s best.
But my heart o’erfloweth to mine eyes
And a prayer is on my tongue,
When I see the poor man’s children,
The toiling and the young.
My heart o’erfloweth to mine eyes,
When I see the poor man stand,
After his daily work is done,
With children by the hand;
And this, he kisses tenderly ;
And that, sweet names doth call;
For I know he has no treasure
Like these dear children small.
Oh, children young, I bless ye;
Ye keep such love alive!
And the home can ne’er be desolate
Where love has room to thrive!
Oh, precious household treasures,
Life’s sweetest, holiest claim ;
The Saviour blessed ye while on earth, ©
T bless ye in his name.
90
THE POOR MAN AND HIS FAMILY AFTER HIS DAILY
WORK IS DONE.
TIRED OF READING.
WENTY pages more,†said Adelaide White, turning to
the back’ of the book to see how many leaves remained.
Then she gaped, stretched herself wearily, and looked
out of the window for a minute or two. After this she bent
down over her book again and went on reading. Her mother,
who sat sewing in the room, noticed this.
‘“‘Haven’t you read long enough, daughter ?†she asked.
“T’m ’most through. There are only twenty pages left,â€
Adelaide replied.
“But if you are tired of reading, why not stop ?â€
“Oh, I’m bound to finish the book now,†said Adelaide.
“T have set myself so many pages to read every day, and must
go through to make up the number.â€
“What have you been reading about for the last ten or fifteen
minutes?†asked Mrs. White. .
Adelaide turned back the leaves of her book, and began
running her eyes over the pages.
“Shut your book and tell me,†said her mother.
Adelaide closed her book and tried to remember, but was able
to give only a very confused idea of what she had been reading.
“Why do you read?†inquired her mother.
Adelaide was silent.
“You read to on, do you not ?â€
“ Yes, ma’am.’
“Not to see how many pages you can go over in a . given
time. One page a day, if remembered, is better than a hundred
if forgotten. Put away your book, dear, and go out into the
garden.â€
Adelaide shut her book and ran out into the garden, where
she spent half an hour. Then she came back with glowing
cheeks and a mind fresh and cheerful.
92
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THE CARELESS READER TIRED OF READING.
THE BRAVE COCK.
HE cock that belonged to Patty and Susan was, indeed, a
very wonderful bird. I will tell you how brave he was.
At one side of the mill there was a barn, and some-
_ times, when it was rainy, the children were sent to play there.
One day, when Patty, Susan, and Harry were amusing them-
selves in it, swinging and making nests in the straw, Patty said
she would sing a song, so she fetched a book, and sang, “Little
Bo Peep,†and “Jack and Jill,†and “Sing a Song of Sixpence.â€
' Just as she finished, she heard a loud, piercing cry. The
youngsters rushed to the window to see what was the matter,
and saw poor Mr. Cock standing in the middle of the barn-
yard screaming with fear, while he stared at a far-away black
~ spot in the air. The ducks and chickens ran hither and
thither. Nearer, nearer it came—a cruel, sharp-beaked hawk.
It hovered now right over the frightened group. The brave
cock flapped his wings, and tried to frighten the enemy by his
screams. The hawk hovered some time, and, perhaps not being
hungry, or not caring to meet so angry a foe, presently flew
away, and left him rejoicing. Then the children ran to their
mother and told her all about the wicked hawk, and how brave
the cock had been. I really think Patty would have hugged
him if she could. Then they got some barley from their
mother and fed all the chickens, who pecked away as if they
had eaten nothing for days. Certainly the fowls ought to have
said “Thank you.†Perhaps they did.
A LIE STICKS.
, LITTLE newsboy, to sell his papers, told a lie, The
matter came up for conversation in a i in Sunday-
school.
“Would you tell a lie for three cents?†asked a teacher of
one of her boys.
“No, ma’am,†answered Dick very promptly.
_ “For ten cents ?â€
“ No, ma’am ?â€
“For a dollar?â€
“ No, ma’am.â€
“ For a hundred dollars?â€
“No, ma’am.â€
“ For a thousand dollars?â€
Dick was staggered. A thousand dollars looked like such a
. very big sum. Oh, what lots of things he could buy with a
thousand dollars! While he was thinking about it, and trying
to make up his mind whether it would pay to tell a lie for a
thousand dollars, a boy behind him cried out,—
“No, ma’am.â€
“Why not?†asked the teacher.
Now mark this boy’s answer, and don’t forget it.
“ Because, ma’am,†said he, “ the lie sticks. When the thou-
sand dollars are all gone, and the good things bought with
them are all gone too, the lie is there all the same.â€
This we should never forget, “the le sticks.†And it is this
that makes the punishment of lying so great, even when we
repent of the sin and get it pardoned. It is still true that
“the lie sticks,†and the sad and sorrowful recollection of it
will be our punishment.
OUR ROMEO.
AY by day, when I look from the parlor windows or from
the front piazza of my home, I see a stream of children
go to and return from the fine public school building
opposite. From the back piazza I look upon the great park or
playground attached to and surrounding this, our village, temple
of knowledge, and there is but a low picket-fence between this
pleasant ground and our garden. I have grown so accustomed
to the sound of youthful voices and childish mirth that vaca-
tions are to me almost lonely. I find that the playground
looks cheerless as a desert without the quick-moving figures of
children upon it.
For more than seven years I have seen upon this green stage
the pleasing panorama of youthful life, have been cheered by
it, amused by it, and interested in it. Of course the younger,
the almost baby, pupils call out my tenderest sympathies, and
many a time have I thought to myself that there surely must
be a certain amount of physical strength and energy allotted to
each child, male and female, while it was plain to.be seen that
motion was a certain law of each one’s being.
But one day came a new figure upon the scene—Romeo
H. , a poor little cripple, for his feet were so weak that he
never had stood upon them.
Little sisters or playmates drew him in a small wagon to the
door; he could walk upon his knees and climb into a chair,
but he was generally tenderly lifted out and carried to his seat.
His place was first in the primary department, but as the
years go by he advances to the higher grades; but sisters and
playmates grow as he grows, and there is not one of all the ,
pupils of the school but that comes and goes at his beck and
call. That Romeo has less activity each child of his acquaint-
97
OUR ROMEO.
ance is urged to have more to supply his deficiency,—yes, each
playmate has an excess of the strength he lacks.
But nature has been just to Romeo. If she has denied
power to his feet, she has endowed him with extraordinary.
mental energy. When he hears of what he would see, that he
does see; in fact, he hears of more and sees more than anybody
else, for who would withhold any good from Romeo?
I see him sit in his little wagon like a king upon his throne, _
born to rule yet ruling by love alone; but strangely enough, or
rather comically enough, he invariably carries a whip, which he
cracks fiercely from time to time, in order to quicken the pace
of his voluntary team, when oh! but they step high and prance
proudly.
To me it is an ever-new pleasure to see his companions, no
matter how eager for play, still mindful of him; and when the
little wheels roll over the soft grass, my good wishes follow the
kind-hearted pushers and pullers of the low chariot.
~ While I see in childhood that ever-present impulse to relieve
distress and aid infirmity, I will not believe that we are by
nature bad-hearted, but the reverse. Surely we all have a
natural love of doing right, else why the command to be as
little children ?
Blessings upon those who keep this kindly nature, whose
hearts are not hardened by utter selfishness! Bless the young
man, one of the teachers, who (just the other day), when joyous
school-boys ascended to the cupola, took our Romeo in his arms
and carried him there, also to enjoy the extended prospect of
woods and farms and villages! Did the gentle-hearted young
man while he lifted up that boy realize that even then his own
soul was lifted up? Perhaps he knew it not, but surely ne was
then drawing very near to the realm of the angels. 3
Romeo is now some thirteen years of age, pleasant-faced and
bright and amiable, having a keen relish for all sports, a
98
THE WINDMILL.
Yankee fondness for whittling, a handiness for saws, hatchets,
and all manner of tools; and, in short, Romeo is one of the
recognized institutions of our town, and we owe him a great
debt of thanks for developing in our children a spirit of ready
accommodation and untiring kindness, and long may it be ere
we miss his presence from our midst.
THE WINDMILL.
USILY, busily,
Turn the sails,—
Never they linger,
Unless the wind fails.
99
A LITTLE ACT OF KINDNESS.
Small must the breeze be
They cannot use;
Who ever saw them
Their labor refuse?
While they are turning—
Their work to fulfill,
Many a lesson
I learn from the mill:
Learn to use gladly
All means in my way,
Thankful to labor
While it is day.
A LITTLE ACT OF KINDNESS.
ONALD and his sister Carrie had gone
to spend the holiday with their aunt
in the city. Near her house was a beautiful
park with a fountain in it, and one of their
greatest pleasures was to sail Donald’s boat
in the large stone bastn that surrounded the
fountain.
One very hot day while they were out in
the park playing, a poor dog came up pant-
ing very heavily, and saying, in dog lan-
guage, “Please give me a drink.†There
was, I am sorry to say, no dog-trough, but
—
KIND DONALD SAILING HIS BOAT.
THE SEA-SHORE.
Donald, never thinking whether it would
hurt his hat or not, took it off, filled it with
water, and gave the dog a good drink.
Having quenched his thirst the grateful
‘animal wagged its tail, ay much as to say,
“Thank you, my kind boy,†and trotted off,
leaving the children at their play.
Dear little ones, do not let the smallest
chances pass of doing good, even to a
dumb animal. If your eyes are open you
will see these opportunities every day, and,
oh, how happy you may make your own
heart, and the heart of some other! while
your Father in heaven will smile upon your
efforts.
THE SEA-SHORE.
E had just had a good run to the sea-beach. There were —
three of us,—Emma, John, and myself. Nay, there —
was one more: our little dog Growl was of the party.
I stood against the rocks, with my hat off, enjoying the fresh
breeze; and John and Emma were kneeling on the sand, trying
to teach poor Growl to stand on his hind-legs and beg.
Soon a little boat came round Lighthouse Island, right up
to the beach where we all were. Out of the boat jumped Uncle
Silas. “Now, children,†said he, “hurry into my boat, and you
shall go to the island.â€
102
UNCLE SILAS TAKING THE CHILDREN TO THE
ISLAND.
WATER-LILIES.
In we got; and soon our little boat was skimming the water
at a brisk rate. We passed a sail-boat; we saw some boys
catching fish ; and, at last, our boat glided into a little bay by
the side of a rock, and we all stepped out on the island.
It was a very small island; but we liked it all the better for
that. The lighthouse-woman let us go up to the top of the
lighthouse; and there we had a fine view, and saw how the
lamps were lit to guide the poor sailors away from the rocks.
Coming down, we climbed over the rocks, got some pretty
purple seaweed to add to our collection, and taught Growl to go
into the water after a stick.
“All hands aboard!†cried Uncle Silas. So we all ran to
the boat, and got in; and I do not think it was more than ten
minutes before we were landed at the beach near the hotel where
we were staying. We all made up our minds that we had -+had
a very good time.
WATER-LILIES.
AKE care, little girl. You can’t get those lilies; the roots
are so twisted together way down in the water, that it
would take more strength than yours to pull them out,
and if you should bend over a little too far you will fall into
the water, and then who would get you out? Oh, dear! you
would be drowned. I’m afraid, for I don’t see your mamma,
or anybody else. I know the lilies are beautiful, with their
‘soft, creamy petals open to the sun, but you can’t get them,
for if you try to drag them with that stick you will destroy all
their beauty. Hark! Isn’t your mamma calling? Yes, I’m
sure she is; and I hope she is near, and will come right away,
for if you fall in you might be drowned before she could get
you out.
104
GATHERING WATER LILIES.
MY SISTER.
HO at my side was ever near?
Who was my playmate many a year?
Who loved me with a love sincere?
My sister.
Who took me gently by the hand
And led me through the summer land,
By forest, field, and sea-shore sand ?
My sister.
Who taught me how to name each flower
‘That grows in lane and garden bower,
Telling of God’s almighty power?
’ My sister.
Who showed me Robin with the vest
Of crimson feathers on his breast,
The blackbird in his dark eoat drest?
My sister.
Who pointed out the lark on iiigh,—
A little speck unto the eye,—
Filling with melody the sky?
My sister.
When sometimes sick I lay in bed,
Who laid her head against my head,
And of my loving Saviour read?
My sister.
And while in sickness thus I lay,
Who helped to nurse me day by day,
And at my bedside oft would pray?
- My sister.
106
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SISTERS.
SAM.
AM’S father had a boat, and Sam used to sail in it every
evening as soon as school was over and he could get his
sister, or his big brother John, to go with him. The
river ran behind the house, and was very deep in some places,
which frightened Sam’s mother a good deal; but Sam had no
fear. Sometimes they would put Fido in the water and watch
him swim after the boat, but if he seemed the least tired Amy
would take him in all dripping as he was. Sam said he in-
tended being a sailor some day, and seeing all sorts of wonderful
places, that is, if his papa and mamma would let him, for Sam,
although he loves the water, is not the boy to do anything
without the consent of his parents.
PLENTY OF TIME; OR, JOHNNY’S FAULT. °
OHNNY,†said Mr. Gray to his little son, “do you see
that pile of brush and rubbish over there? I want-to
see that all cleared away to-day. The brush you must
chop up into firewood for your mother, and the other rubbish
must be gathered into a pile, and to-night you may have a
bonfire.â€
_ “Yes, sir,†answered Johnny, carelessly. He was building «
miniature ship, and was wholly occupied with his masts and sails.
“Remember to have it all done by to-night,†said his father
as he rode away.
“That little bit of work won’t keep me long. I'll just finish
this rudder, then I’ll go at it,†said Johnny, whittling away.
How fast the moments slip by when we are not thinking
much about them! Johnny thought it would only take him a
108
FIDO SWIMMING AFTER THE BOAT.
PLENTY OF TIME.
few moments to finish his rudder, and so it did, but, that finished
something else was begun, until Johnny was surprised to hear
_ the bell ring for school.
“Did you chop the brush, Johnny ?†asked his mother as he
flew into the dining-room after his books.
“No, mother, I’ll do it at noon. I'll have plenty of time,â€
said Johnny, as he hurried off.
But Johnny was unfortunate that morning. He had put off
studying his lesson until just.a few moments before his class was
called. The result was, he missed, and was kept in at noon to
learn it. When he had recited it perfectly, after studying
nearly all the noon spell, he found he had just twenty minutes
left in which to go home, eat his dinner, and get back to school.
No time for cutting brush, surely, but I regret to say that
Johnny had not once thought of the brush since he left home
in the morning. That afternoon the boys had planned to go
out in the woods after school to gather nuts. - The girls, some
of them, were going with them, and the hour for dismissal was
eagerly waited for. Johnny ran home to leave his books and
ask his mother’s permission.
“Oh, mother,†he exclaimed, “the children are all going off
to the woods to gather nuts. I am going too. I’ll be back
before dark.â€
“ But, Johnny, how about that pile of brush? You know
your father told you it must be done,†said his mother.
“Oh, mother! Can’t I do it to-morrow? I'll have plenty
of time in the morning. I'll get up early, and a it all before
school. Say, mother, won’t that do?â€
But his mother shook her head as she ae
“T fear it will not do to put it off, Johnny; you had plenty
of time to do it this morning, but you neglected to do so.â€
Johnny knew it was no use to talk any further. So he threw
down his hat and coat, stamped his foot, gritted his teeth and
110
PLENTY OF TIME.
commenced to cry. Yes, he actually did all that, although he
was eleven years old.
By and by he heard the voices of his schoolmates, and he
knew they would soon be along inquiring for him. He could
not bear to meet them. So he just picked up his hat and ran
into the garden and hid in the branches of the old apple-tree.
“Johnny Gray! Johnny Gray! Ho, Johnny!†called
Willie Short, the ringleader of the party. Johnny, from his
retreat, could see them, but he answered not a word.
Very soon he saw them all talking and looking, then little
Minnie Lee went tripping into the house, a committee of one
to look up the absentee.
“Pleath, Mith Gray, were going after nuts, and we want
Johnny,†was her message.
“T am very sorry,†replied Mrs. Gray, “but Johnny cannot
possibly go to-day. His father has something for him to do
which cannot be postponed.†She did not tell that it was
Johnny’s own fault. So little Minnie went briskly out and told
the result of her inquiry.
“Too bad! It’s mean, so it is! Mr. Gray might put off his
something, I think ;†and so the children talked as long as
Johnny could hear them, then when they were well out of
sight he crept down out of his hiding-place and went reluctantly
at his work.
It was not a hard task nor a tedious one; and if Johnny had
worked with a will, he might have done it all in an hour. But
he was disappointed and out of humor, and so the work lagged.
Then he saw a rabbit run through the garden.
“Tt won’t take me long to catch it,†he said, dropping the
axe and giving chase. But it proved a “ wild-goose chase ;â€
for after watching and poking around the hole in the stone
fence where he had seen it go in, and “knew it couldn’t get
out,†he was obliged to go back without it. Then he thought
111
THE OLD WELL.
of his father’s promise of the big bonfire at night, and went at
his work with a will. He had not worked long when his father
came driving up tothe door. Johnny ran to meet him.
“Well, my son, if you have finished the work I gave you,
you may get your coat and come with me. ‘Your mother and
I are going over to the new mills to see the trial of the new
flour-mill.â€
How Johnny’s heart sank, and how his face burned, as he
said, tearfully,—
“But my work is not done, father.â€
“Then we must go without you,†said his father. Mrs. Gray
was soon ready, and Johnny with sad eyes watched them drive
away. But he did not rave and stamp his feet and cry over
this new disappointment, as he had over the first. He was not
angry now, and could reason with himself, and he soon saw
that he was all to blame. He picked up the axe and went to
work, resolving never to put off his work for anything again.
I hope he kept his resolution; but remember, it is much
easier to form a habit than to break one’s self of it, and easier
to make good resolves than to keep them.
THE OLD WELL.
ESIDE the dusty highway,
In sight of the village green,
Where the old yew throws its shadow,
An ancient well is seen.
Close by its clear, cool waters
There stands a mossy seat,
And o’er it, in quaint old letters,
“Rest for the weary feet.â€
112
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THE OLD WELL.
THE OLD WELL.
The children come at evening,
When the tasks of the day are done,
And the ivy and lichen are reddening
In the glow of the setting sun ;
They peep down into the water
And laugh and shout to see
Their merry rosy young faces
Reflected so curiously.
And the passing traveler pauses
With dusty, tired feet,
And gladly loves to linger
On the old time-worn seat ;
He looks at the strange old carving,
At the water cool and deep,
And thinks of the hands that placed them there,
Now long since gone to sleep !
And the village youths and maidens
Loiter beside the well,
And, resting their pitchers upon it,
The village stories tell ;
And when the shadows lengthen,
And night falls calm and sweet,
The moonbeams light up the old words,
“ Rest for the weary feet.â€
Litrie Sunsutne.—Who is Little Sunshine? The child
who does not pout, or frown, or say cross words, but who goes
about the house laughing, smiling, singing, saying kind words
and doing kind deeds—that child is Little Sunshine. Does an y-
body know Little Sunshine? Where does Little Sunshine live?
114
VERY LITTLE ONES IN MISCHIEF.
AON
= = ————-—_
VERY LITTLE ONES IN MISCHIEF.
OLLO, boys! what a fine time you’re having! Take
care, Tommy, or you'll break papa’s big fiddle. Mamma
© doesn’t know you're here, I’m sure, or nurse either, but
if your brother keeps on ringing the bell you’ll be sure to have
visitors before long. It’s a splendid thing, I know, to have the
chance of playing, but I don’t think papa will be pleased when
he finds it out, and I would advise you to hang up the bow and
play with some of your toys. Listen! I think I hear footsteps
now. on the stairs.
15
THE RIVER.
Riven river! little river!
Bright you sparkle on your way:
O’er the yellow pebbles dancing,
Through the flowers and foliage glancing,
Like a child at play.
River! river! swelling river! }
On you rush o’er rough and smooth:
Louder, faster, brawling, leaping,
Over rocks, by rose-banks sweeping,
Like impetuous youth.
River! river! brimming river!
Broad, and deep, and still as time,
Seeming still, yet still in motion,
Tending onward to the ocean,
Just like mortal prime.
River! river! headlong river!
Down you dash into the sea,—
Sea that line hath never sounded,
Sea that sail hath never rounded,
Like eternity.
116
ON THE RIVER.
BE THANKFUL.
4 DON’T want any supper,†said Kate. “Nothing but
<2) bread and milk, and some cake,—just the same every
night.â€
“Would you like to take a walk?†asked mamma, not no-
ticing Kate’s vemark: :
“Yes, mamma.’
Kate was pleased so long as their walk led ditaet pleasant
streets; but when they came to narrow dirty ones, where the
houses were old and poor, she wanted to go home. “Please,
mamma, don’t go any farther.â€
“We will go in the corner house,†said mamma.
_ A man stood by the door with a sick-looking little girl in his
arms; she was crying and looked sad and hungry. .
Some rough-looking men were sitting on the door-steps.
Kate felt afraid, and held tight to mamma’s hand;. but on
they went up the tottering steps to the garret. So hot and close
it was that they could scarcely breathe. On a straw bed near
the only window lay a young girl asleep, so pale and thin and
still, she looked as if she were dead.
Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes. Mamma uncovered
her basket, and gave the girl a drink of milk, and placed the
bread and cake beside her.
Kate’s eyes filled with tears as she saw the girl eagerly eat
her supper. Not a mouthful had she tasted since early morning.
Her poor mother had been away all day working, and now
came home wishing she had something nice to bring her sick
child. When she found her so well cared for, she could not
thank mamma and Kate enough.
The supper seemed a feast to them.
118
THE MAN WITH THE LITTLE SICK GIRL.
PINCHER AND I.
“If we can keep a rovf over our heads,†said she, “and get
a crust to eat, we are thankful.â€
Kate never forgot these words. Let us all learn the same
lesson, and cease complaining and fault-finding. If we have a
home, and food to eat, let us thank God, for many wander the
streets homeless and hungry. .
PINCHER AND I.
OGETHER we rambled, together we grew ;
Many plagues had the household, but we were the two
Who were counted the worst; all doings reviled
Were sure to be done by “that dog and that child.â€
If my own kin or kind had demolished my ball,
The transgression was marked with a scuffle and squall;
But with perfect consent Pinch might mouth it about
Till the very last atom of sawdust was out.
When half-pence were doled for the holiday treat,
How I longed for the taffee so li&cious and sweet!
But cakes must be purchased, for how could I bear
To feast on a luxury Pinch could not share?
I fondled, I fed him, I coaxed or I cuffed—
I drove or I led him, I soothed or I huffed:
He had beatings in anger and huggings in love,
But which were most cruel ’twere a puzzle to prove.
If he dared to rebel, I might battle and wage
The fierce war of a tyrant with petulant rage ;
I might ply him with kicks or belabor with blows,
But Pincher was never once known to oppose.
120
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PINCHER AND 1.
JOHNNY AND WILLIE.
HE street I live in is very narrow, yet it is not unpleasant,
and I think the little boys and girls like it even better
than a wider one, for there are so few teams passing
through that their mammas are more willing to have them run
and play in it. And such merry games of tag, and rolling
hoop, and marbles as I see from my window! It does my
heart good.
But I want to tell you to-day about two little boys that live
opposite me. They moved there about two weeks ago, and their
mamma is such a dear little young woman I thought at first she
was their sister, but I soon discovered my mistake.
One day I saw the two little boys flying some pieces of paper
fastened to strings out of their bedroom window, and every few
minutes I could hear the oldest one say, “Where are they now,
Willie? Have they blown far?†and the little one would
answer him, “Wait; the wind hasn’t come yet,†or “There,
Johnny—there they go clear over the tree.†Then both would
jump and laugh, and then wait for the wind to come again.
By and by their mamma came to the window, and standing
by them said, “I see some birdies on a tree.†“Now I seea
dog running along, carrying a basket in his mouth.†And
then stooping, she kissed them both, and said, “Willie, you tell
brother about everything, dear,†and went back to her work.
It seems strange that the little boy only about three years old
should tell the other ‘one, who must have been five, doesn’t it?
It did to me, but after watching a while I saw that Johnny
was blind. Since then I have seen them often, and have learned
from their mamma that when Johnny was three years old he
was very sick and lost the use of his eyes. He is very bright,
and I doubt if there are many little boys only five years old
122
WHAT THE SUNBEAM SAW.
who can add and multiply figures and spell as well as he can,
You will wonder what he can play when he cannot see, and
I’m glad to tell you that he is as full of fun and as active as
one could wish. He has a large rocking-horse, which he is
very fond of riding, and blocks which, with help from dear
Willie, he builds into houses, and churches, and railroads, and
all the other things which little folks like. You would be sur-
prised to see how gently he touches each block as he piles one
upon another. But what he likes best of all is to sit close by
some one’s side and have them show him—by which he means
tell him—the pictures in some story-book, and then read the
stories to him.
I was glad to hear this, for I take some of the children’s
magazines, and I intend to coax Johnny and Willie to come to
see me often and let me read to them.
' WHAT THE SUNBEAM SAW.
TAY, dear sunbeam,†murmured a bright wood-lily, as
the sunshine danced in, one summer day, among the
pine-tree branches. “Stay a while and rest upon this
bright carpet of moss, and tell me a story. It is so quiet here
to-day, in the forest, that I am almost asleep. I wish I could
get out into the world and see some of the fine sights there.
What a gay time you must have of it, dancing about wherever °
you please from morning till night !â€
“Nay,†said the sunbeam, “TI cannot stop to tell you all I have
seen; but, if you care to hear it, I will tell you what was the
prettiest sight of all.â€
“Do,†said the wood-lily, bending her graceful head to listen
123
WHAT THE SUNBEAM SAW.
“T was kissing away the tears that the night had left upon
a cluster of climbing roses that overhung a cottage window,â€
said the sunbeam, “when I heard the sweet sound of children’s
voices. I looked within and saw two dear little boys at play ;
one was leaning his chubby little arms on the table while he
watched his brother, who was busily building a block house.
I thought them lovelier than the flowers in the garden, and
their happy voices made sweeter music than the birds. By
and by they put up their sweet lips and kissed each other, while
I hovered over them with delight, caressing their cheeks and
brows, and turning their brown curls to shining gold.â€
“A pretty sight, indeed, that must have been,†said the wood-
lily.
“And now,†continued the sunbeam, “shall I tell you the
saddest sight that I have seen to-day ?â€
The wood-lily bent her head still lower.
“TI went again to see the dear children and to give them my
parting blessing, but I found them, alas! how changed. Harsh
words issued from their rose-bud lips, frowns clouded their fair
white brows, and their little hands—ah! shall I tell it ?—were
raised in anger.â€
“That was a sad sight, surely,†said the lily.
“A sad sight!’ murmured the summer wind through the
pine boughs.
“A sad sight!†breathed a cluster of violets, while tears fell
from their blue eyes into the little stream beside which they
grew.
“A sad sight!†echoed the stream, as it rippled on its way.
“A sad sight!†sang the birds in the branches overhead.
So it was as if a gloom had suddenly settled itself over the
forest, and all because of the sad story the sunbeam had told.
Have a care, dear children, that no bright sunbeam ever has
so sad a tale to tell of you.
124
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THE BOYS BUILDING THE BLOCK HOUSE.
DONKEYS.
0 HERE certainly are few things prettier to my mind than
t a dear little baby donkey. Every little young thing
in the world has a great charm for me, but I par-
ticularly like baby donkeys. See what a pretty creature this
is in the picture, with its innocent-looking little face, bright
eyes, and sharp pricked-up ears, ready for a game with its sedate
mamma, who is loving it in donkey fashion. I once had a
donkey that I drove in a basket carriage, and it was as nice to
drive as any pony. It is only ill-usage that hardens the poor
donkey’s mouth and temper.
I will tell you now how this little donkey became mine. I
do not know if you children have ever heard the saying—but
there is a saying—that nobody ever sees a dead donkey. My
old nurse, I remember, used to say, “ Pins and dead donkeys
rolls off the earth together, I do believe.â€
Having had this idea instilled into me from my childhood,
you may suppose that I was very much astonished one morning,
as I was walking along a lane close to where I lived in the
country, to see a young donkey lying right in my path. I
stooped down to look at it, and it appeared quite dead.
Presently up came a laboring man, who exclaimed,—
“ Hollo! this is little Tommy. I expect he’s come from our
place to look after his mother.†Then I learnt that the poor
little animal’s mother had been sold the day before, so the little
son had wandered off that morning in search of her.
“Poor little thing!†I cried, “I fear he is dead; do bring
his mother to him.†The man very good-naturedly went off
to fetch Mrs. Donkey, who soon came trotting down the lane;
and when she got by the side of Tommy, what do you think
the little animal did? Why, he just jumped up, and seemed all
126
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HECTOR.
right directly. Then it was so pretty to see how mamma
donkey loved and caressed her little son; while he returned all
her affection with interest.
The end of this little adventure was that I bought Tommy
and his mother, so that they should not be separated.
HECTOR.
AM going to tell you about a dog that belonged to a friend
of mine. His name was Hector, and he was a great pet.
If his master would throw anything in the water, and
say, “Fetch it, sir!†off Hector would go, and return wet and
dripping, and lay it at his master’s feet.
One night, about ten o’clock, when his master went to bed,
he thought the bed looked rather tumbled, almost as if some
one had been lying in it. The next night it looked just the
same, and so it did for several nights, and he was quite puzzled.
But one evening he happened to go up-stairs rather sooner
than usual, and there, lying in the bed, was Hector, who,
however, the instant he saw his master, jumped up in a great
fright and ran away. Of course there was no doubt that he
had done this for several nights past, always contriving to be
safe out of the room before his master’s bed-time.
But now he had been caught in the act; and I have no
doubt that in future the bedroom door was kept carefully shut,
and Master Hector had to take his evening nap somewhere else.
Boys, remember you grow old every day, and if you have
bad habits they grow old too; and the older both get, the
harder you are to separate.
128
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“FETCH IT SIRâ€.
A WINTER SONG.
Gosonen joys are o’er;
Flow’rets bloom no more ;
Wintry winds are sweeping:
_ Through the snow-drifts peeping
Cheerful evergreen .
Rarely now is seen.
Now no plumed throng
Charms the wood with song;
Ice-bound trees are glittering ;
Little robins, twittering, —
Fondly strive to cheer
Scenes so cold and drear.
Winter, still I see
Many charms in thee; _
Love thy chilly greeting,
Snow-storms fiercely beating,
And the dear delights
Of the long, long nights.
180
WINTER.
KISSING A SUNBEAM.
UNBEAME, creeping through the maples,
Flashed across the window-pane,
Lighting up the darken’d parlor
Like a shower of golden rain.
Baby May, her white hands softly
Folded in her mute surprise,
Sat upright upon the carpet,—
Baby-wonder in her eyes.
Soon the little hands unloosing,
Each essayed the toy to grasp,
But in vain,—no shining substance
Found she in their tightened clasp.
Down she went upon the carpet,
Creeping softly round and round,
Making eager, restless movements,
And a cooing, baby sound.
Reaching now, and now bewildered.
By her shining, new-found prize,—
All the while the baby-wonder
Beaming in her violet eyes.
Wearied with the vain endeavor,
Both the dimpled hands grew still,
But the bright eyes watched the sunbeams
Flitting here and there at will.
Watched them as they danced about her
Lighting up the carpet gray,—
Then she softly stooped and—hissed them.
Darling, precious Baby May.
132
WHICH WAS THE BETTER SPORT?
WO little boys, John and Harry, were on their way to
school, frolicking as they went, when they espied an old
lady sitting beside the road with a basket of apples.
She had evidently walked quite a distance with her heavy
load, for she looked pale and tired.
“ John,†said one of the boys, “T’ll show you some sport.â€
“What is it, Harry ?†asked the other, his merry black eyes
dancing as he spoke.
“Let’s tip over that old woman’s apples, as if by accident,
and see her scramble for them,†answered Harry, and he
laughed as he pictured to himself the bent form of the poor
old woman in a weary endeavor to collect her scattered fruit.
John drew himself up, and his eyes flashed. “Would you
call that fun?†exclaimed he. “I think it would be downright
meanness and cruelty to play such a trick as that. Besides,
she may be somebody’s grandmother.â€
Harry hung his head and looked ashamed.
“T’ll tell you what would be better fun,†continued the
manly little fellow. “Let us carry her basket for her, if she
will let us.â€
When they had reached the place where the old lady sat,
John, taking off his hat, said respectfully— _
“ Please, ma'am, are you going far with your basket?â€
“Yes, dear,†answered she. “I am going to market to sell
my apples, and I have half a mile to go yet. I have come
more than that already, and it is a long walk for a poor old
body like me ;†and she sighed wearily as she spoke.
“We are going right by the market,†said John, “and we
will carry your basket for you, if you will trust us.â€
“Of course I will trust such a well-spoken lad as you are!â€
133
9
OUR LILY,
said the old lady, her faded cheek glowing and her dim eyes
brightening with pleasure at this kindly offer. “And may God
bless you for your kindness, my lads !†.
When the little boys took hold of the basket and carried it
lightly between them, while the old lady hobbled on behind, it
would be hard to tell which of the three was the happiest.
Say, little ones, which of the boys had, proposed the better
sport ?
OUR LILY.
UR LILY!†So every one in the house calls her, from
Hannah, the cook, up to grandma. She is “Our Lilyâ€
to each and all of us—dear, sweet, kind-hearted, happy
little Lily! Almost any hour in the day her voice may be
heard breaking out in pleasant laughter, or singing a “hushabyâ€
song to her dolly, or cheerily calling from hall or stairway,
from kitchen or chamber. She’s an active little body, and, like
the birds, keeps flitting about and making merry with life.
When she was a little bit of a girl, grandma gave her a ring,
but made her promise that for fear she might lose it she would
never take it off her finger, and Lily kept her promise faith-
fully. After she had worn it about a year, Lily said to her
grandma one day, “Isn’t it nice, grandma, I can’t take my ring
off even if I wanted to, it’s so tight;†and grandma saw the
baby hand had grown so large that the ring was fast on the
_ Tittle finger. Papa said the only way to get it off was to have
it cut in two; so Lily was taken to have the ring filed. The
workman frightened her a good deal by setting her up on his
bench, but he held her hand very gently and the ring was soon
filed off. Grandma was so pleased with the way she behaved
that she promised Lily another ring for her next birthday.
134
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THE WORKMAN FILING OFF GRANDPA’S RING.
BUSY BEE.
EAR children, I am going to tell you about a nice little
girl called Busy Bee.
Sibyl is her real name; and shall I tell you the reason
why we called her Busy Bee? Because she is always busy.
She is never idle like some little girls I know; she never
whines out in a peevish tone, like some little friends of mine,
“T haven’t got anything to do-o!â€
Our little Busy Bee is quick and clever in all that she
does. She gives no trouble to nurse when she gets up in the
morning, but helps to dress herself; and as soon as she is
dressed, without waiting a moment, she says her prayers. Then
Bee comes into mamma’s room before her breakfast, looking
fresh and sweet as a little pink rosebud.
One day I went to see Sibyl’s mamma, and when we had
talked a little while, I said, “Where is darling Bee?â€
“Oh,†said mamma, “ come into the kitchen, and there we
shall find Bee, busy as ever.â€
And so we did; for on opening the kitchen door, the first
thing we saw was our little girl, standing by the table with a
bowl and spoon, helping cook stir up some sauce for dinner.
Sweet Busy Bee! what a pretty picture she made with her
sleeves rolled up and a bright earnest look on her rosy little
face !
My darling little Busy Bee, I can see you in the years
to come, a grown-up woman, making hearts glad with your
cheerful spirit, busy brain, and clever fingers.
THE LITTLE GIRL CALLED BUSY BEE.
THE CHRISTMAS-TREE.
ERE we have a picture of two little German children,
Fritz and Marguerite. They have been out in the
© woods to get a Christmas-tree. It was hard work for
little Fritz to saw through the tough wood, and his arms ached
very badly before the beautiful fir-tree fell; but Fritz is sturdy
and strong, and the trouble he had is soon forgotten, as he
thinks of the many things the Christ-child will bring on the
morrow, and of how pleased tlte mother will be when she sees
what a pretty tree they have brought home. Little Marguerite
walks beside her brother, with apron full of fresh moss and
bright evergreens, while Fritz repeats to her this beautiful
carol :
Little children, this is Christmas,
Happy time of peace on earth!
This the day that Christ, our Saviour,
Came to us—His day of birth.
Born within a cattle-shed,
With a manger for His bed.
Like us all, a little baby
In His mother’s arms He lay,
Loved her tenderly in childhood,
Ever ready to obey,—
Taught us, even as a child,
To be good, obedient, mild.
UF
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THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
LITTLE WHITE LILY. @
ITTLE white Lily
Sat by a stone,
* Drooping and waiting
Till the sun shone.
Little white Lily
Sunshine has fed;
Little white Lily
Is lifting its head.
Little white Lily
Said, “Tt is good.
Little white Lily’s
Clothing and food.â€
Little white Lily,
Dressed like a bride,
Shining with whiteness
And crown’d beside!
Little white Lily
Droopeth with pain,
Waiting and waiting
For the wet rain.
Little white Lily
Holdeth her cup;
Rain is fast falling
And filling it up.
Little white Lily
Said, “ Good again,
When I am thirsty
To have nice rain;
140
EIFIE’S DREAM.
Now I am stronger,
NowIam cool: .
Heat cannot burn me,
My veins are so full.â€
Little white Lily
Smells very sweet ;
On her head sunshine,
. Rain at her feet.
“Thanks to the sunshine,
Thanks to the rain,
Little white Lily
Is happy again.â€
EFFIE’'S DREAM.
i dear mamma,†said Effie, laughing,
“what a funny dream I’ve had! I
thought the air was filled with little people,
and it seemed as though I had seen them
all before. I was startled by a voice close
beside me, saying, ‘ Little girl, did you see
my sheep? they are lost, and I have nothing
left of them but tails’ ‘Don’t talk so
much about your sheep,’ said another voice.
‘If you had been chased by a wolf, there
would be some sense in talking.’ ‘ You
141
EFFIE’S DREAM.
needn’t be so cross about it, said Little
Bo-Peep. ‘TI believe after all it was your
wolf that ate up my sheep.’ ‘Oh, dear,
said Little Red Riding Hood, ‘ what a stupid
fellow Simple Simon is, to suppose he can
taste pies without buying them!’ ‘Speaking
of pies,’ said Little Bo-Peep, ‘I wish the
Queen of Hearts had given us some of her
tarts before the Knave stole them.’ ‘Don’t
tell,†said Little Red Riding Hood, ‘but I
know where the tarts went to. Last night,
while standing by my window, I heard
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star tell the Man
in the Moon that the Knave of Hearts took
them to Little Miss Muffet, who was eating
them, when—
«There came a big spider and sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.’
And so they went on talking about all the
stories in my Mother Goose, and getting
them mixed up in such a funny way.†And
the little girl laughed again heartily, and
so did mamma, who thought it was a very
funny dream.
142
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EFFIE’S DREAM,
THE MAGPIE.
HE magpie, like the raven and the jackdaw, is not very
honest, and he has a great deal of cunning. He is, how-
ever, extremely handsome; his bill and his feet are black,
with a shade of bluish purple. There are patches of white
about him, both on the shoulder and under the body. His tail
is very long, and shines with green and purple, there being a
band of purple near the end of each feather, and ae tip is
blue and deep green.
He is a very sociable bird, and can easily be tamed. There
is, however, the same objection to a tame magpie as to a tame
raven—his love of stealing. Many a trinket has been snatched
from a lady’s toilet-table by a tame magpie and securely hidden
away in his nest. What use these stolen goods can be to him,
as he does not wear either rings or bracelets, is a question not
easily answered.
He himself has many enemies, and requires all his activity
and cunning to keep out of danger. The habit he has of rob-
bing the nest of the pheasant, or the partridge, or the grouse,
makes the gamekeeper at war with him, and he fires at every
magpie he sees. The farmer is not any more fond of him than
the gamekeeper, and his gun is often aimed at him. He re-
members the magpie’s love for young chickens, and that the
farm-yard is none the better for his visits.
Early in March the magpies begin to build their nests, and
choose the top of a tall tree, such as an ash or an elm; or,
where such accommodation is not to be had, they will even
place the nest in a hedge.
It is a very large nest, and can be known at once by its size
and its oval shape. First there is a layer of twigs, and then a
layer of mud; and then it is covered with a roof, or dome, made
of twigs, and a hole-is left in the side for the magpie to get
144
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THE CHICKENS.
in, Within this sheltered retreat the eggs are laid. They differ
much in color, and are sometimes blue, specked, or spotted, and
sometimes of a pale green.
THE CHICKENS.
EE the chickens, round the gate,
For their morning portions wait ;
Fill the basket from the store,
Let us open wide the door:
Throw out crumbs, and scatter seed,
Let the hungry chickens feed.
Call them ; now how fast they run,
Gladly, quickly, every one.
Eager, busy hen and chick,
Every little morsel pick :
See the hen with callow brood,
To her young how kind and good;
With what care their steps she leads,—
Them, and not herself, she feeds:
Picking here and picking there,
Where the nicest morsels are.
As she calls, they flock around,
Bustling all along the ground.
When their daily labors cease,
And at night they rest in peace,
All the little tiny things —
Nestle close beneath her wings ;
There she keeps them safe and warm, |
Free from fear and free from harm.
146
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THE PUMP BATH.
Now, my little child, attend:
Your Almighty Father, friend,
Though unseen by mortal eye,
Watches o’er you from on high:
As the hen her chickens leads,
‘ Shelters, cherishes, and feeds,
So by Him your feet are led,
Over you His wings are spread.
THE PUMP BATH.
NCE upon a time there were two little brothers who had
not a friend in the world. Their father was dead and
their mother was dead, and they lived with their grand-
mother. “Well, then,†you say, “if they lived with their
grandmother, they had one friend in the world.†But I say,
“No.†The grandmother grumbled very much because they
lived with her, and said they were a great burden. The parish
allowed her every week some bread and some money for each
of the two children, but she said it took more than that to feed
them and clothe them. I should hardly think it did, however,
for the two poor little creatures looked as if they were starved ;
and as for clothes, they were always in rags.
One dull Saturday night, when the wind blew: hard and the
rain was falling in large drops, a gentleman passed them on the
street, and Ed said to Tom, “He looks nice, I’m going to ask
him for a penny.†So he ran after the gentleman, who was
walking quite fast, and, touching his coat, said, “Mister, won't
you please give me a penny?†‘The gentleman looked at him,
and stopping, said, “Why, my boy, you’re getting very wet;
148
a Mai eT
SAL TT TH
THE PUMP BATH.
THE PUMP BATH.
why don’t you run home and get yourself dry and warm?â€
“’Cos we don’t never go home until we has to; grandmam’s
dreadful cross, and don’t like the noise we makes,†was the
answer. “Qh, there’s another boy, is there?†said the gentle-
man. “Come here, you other boy, and listen to me. Now, to-
morrow is Sunday, and if you boys like you may come up to my
house—see, there it is right over at the corner—early as you
please, and I'll see if you can’t be comfortable and happy at
least for awhile. Run along now home with you, because we
are all getting wet, and come in the morning.†“Yes, sir, we'll
come,†said Ed, whose eyes brightened with pleasure. “Good-
by.†“I tell you, Tom, ain’t he a jolly genl’mn?†said Ed.
“Well, maybe he is, but he didn’t give us any penny,†answered
Tom. “Oh, that’s all right, I guess he hadn’t any change, but
maybe he’ll do more in the morning.†So the boys went home
and told their grandmother about it, who was pleased enough at
the news, and packed them off to their little bed right early.
Sunday came bright and clear, and Ed, who had been dream-
ing that the gentleman’s house had caught fire and burned
down, got off softly. without waking either his grandmother or
brother; he thought he would just make sure that the place was
all meh and so ran away off to see it. Yes, there it was, all
right, but not a window open; and Ed, saying to himself,
“ Guess it’s "most too early for visitors,†walked back home and
found nobody up yet. So he went and waked up Tom and
told him to “Come ahead, hurry up, let’s go up to the gentle-
man’s to breakfast.†Tom rubbed his eyes and soon had his
scanty clothes on, Ed having, meanwhile, started off; but Tom
soon caught up, and they walked along right fast talking of
what the gentleman would do, when Tom said, “Your face’s
dreadful dirty, Ed.†“Guess ’taint much worse than yours,â€
said Ed. “Oh, I guess we must ’a forgot to wash ’em,†said
Tom. “TI often do,†said Ed. “Well, it don’t seem as if we
150
Et aa i a ath amare ata a att
is A AN OANA NEE REE
THE KITE.
ever were going to get to the gentleman’s; we ought to wash our
faces,†said Tom; “I don’t want to go back home though.â€
“Ob,†said Ed, “let’s wash right here at the pump. You
pump for me, and I'll pump for you, and, as it’s a special occa-
sion, we can take a wipe too on our caps.†“All right,†said
Tom; “you go first.â€
So here you see Tom pumping for Ed, who has as much as
he can attend to to keep from falling down.
The story of the boys is too long to tell here, but the gentle-
man was a “Good Samaritan,†and helped the boys along until
they became in after-years good, useful men.
THE KITE.
AVE you ever, on a summer’s day, seen a bird gliding
about in a circle, with outspread wings and extended
tail?
His way of flying was like that of the eagle, and yet he was
a much smaller bird. Sometimes he balanced himself in the
air, and ceased to move, but hung suspended, as it were, on
nothing. Then, while you were still looking, he glided down-
wards to the ground.
While poised in the air, his keen eye had been fixed on some
object below; for he seeks his food on the ground, and is ver;
quick at spying it out. Lizards, frogs, mice, and even young
birds, fall into his clutches; nothing comes amiss to the kite.
He is a bird of prey as much as the eagle, only that he has not
the strength or the bravery of the king of the birds; and he
descends to acts of theft and violence, like the whole of the
tribe, great or small. He is often hovering over the farmyard,
151
THE KITE.
and if the hen does not take care of her chickens, he is pretty
certain to carry some of them off.
But he is a sad coward; and if the hen sees him, and comes
rushing out, as she always does under the circumstances, look-
ing angry and excited, and with her feathers ruffled, he never
attempts to withstand her. He would do anything rather than
fight, and she drives him away as easily as possible.
The kite often gets into trouble by HIE love for young ducks
and chickens.
A hen-coop once stood in a farm-yard, and the young duck-
lings, which a hen had hatched, were waddling about and
enjoying themselves. The kite saw what was going on, and,
knowing that the hen could not interpose, attacked a poor
little duckling. The duckling screamed, and ran to the pond
for safety. The kite followed as close as could be, and even
ventured into the pond after it. In the mean time the servant-
girl had heard the screams, and went to see what was the
matter. ‘The kite could not fly all at once, and the girl had
time to knock him over with a broom.
In the picture you see the kite is about to carry off a poor
little bird in his sharp talons.
Power oF Kinpyess.—A horse passing down the street
suddenly stood still and refused to proceed. The driver beat
him, but the animal would not stir. A kind-hearted man who
was passing picked up a little hay and put it before the horse.
As he ate it, the man patted him on the neck and coaxed him.
In a minute or two the stubbornness was gone, and the horse
and driver went on their way. So much for patience and
kindness.
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THE KITE ABOUT TO CARRY OFF THE POOR LITTLE
BIRD.
SELFISH MATTHEW.
HERE are a great many good children; yet once in a
while we meet those who, we are sorry to say, do not
belong to the class of those we love. Such a boy was
Matthew.
‘You would not have given a fig to play with him. He had
carpenters’ tools, and books, and checkers, and chess, and draw-
ing materials, and balls, and kites, and ships, and skates, and
snow-shovels, and sleds. Oh! I could not tell you all he had.
Well, if you went on a Saturday afternoon to play with him,
he would watch all these things as closely as a cat would a
mouse; and if you went within reach of them, he would call
out, “Don’t; that’s mine !â€
One day I went to see his mother. Matthew, with another
little boy, was at play in the garden; he had a soldier suit on,
while his friend was dressed like a sailor. For a time the boys
played happily, but soon Matthew grew tired of gun and drum,
and they were thrown aside. “Come,†said Matthew, “see me
sail my boat in the trough.†“Ho! ho!†said his friend, “you |
mustn’t sail a boat, you’re a soldier ;†and taking his stick he
was about to give the boat a push, when Matthew, in his selfish
way, said, “No, you let my boat alone; I'll sail it myselfâ€
“Oh, but you’re mean,†said the boy; “I won’t play with you
any more,†and he went away, leaving Matthew alone with his
' selfish thoughts.
Oh, dear children, be generous. If you have but half a stick
of candy, give somebody a bite of it. Perhaps some child will
say, “But I have not anything to gwe.†That is a mistake;
that boy or girl is not living who has nothing to give. Give
your sympathy; give pleasant words and beaming smiles to
the sad and weary-hearted. .
154
YOU LET MY BOAT ALONE; I’LL SAIL IT MYSELF.
COMING FROM SCHOOL.
“ijean little Anna Bell
Coming from school:
Heeded she mamma’s words—
“ Break not a rule ;â€
Heeded she mamma’s words—
“Kind be and true ;
Learn every lesson well
Given to you.â€
Homeward she trips along,
Kyes full of light
Cheeks red as roses,
And footsteps so light.
Sweet are the kisses
That wait for her lips,
Sweet as the nectar
The honey-bee sips.
ANNA BELL COMING FROM SCHOOL.
ONLY A BUNCH OF FLOWERS.
WO little girls were walking down a street together, when
they saw a girl selling flowers. Her little sister stood
beside her, and looked wistfully at the passers-by ; but
it was Saturday, and everybody seemed too busy marketing to
notice her.
One of the little girls—she looked the elder of the two—
stopped, saying to her companion, “ Just wait a minute, Milly;
I have a penny, and I shall buy a bunch of those flowers.â€
Then, turning to the girl, she said, “ Give me one bunch, and
be quick. Why, this is an ugly one! let me pick out a better,â€
she added; and she began turning the bunches over, till at last
she seemed satisfied, and was turning away without offering to
arrange them again, or say “Thank you,†when her companion
said that she would buy a bunch too, saying, “ Willie is so fond
of flowers, poor boy! So, if you please, I will have one.†Then,
seeing that the little sister looked eagerly at a piece of cake
which she held in her hand, she added, “Are you very hungry,
little girl? Would you like half my cake?†:
“Thank you kindly, miss. I haven’t had much to eat to-
day.†And then the girl added, “ Would you like your choice
of the bunches, miss? Maybe you’re buying them for a sick
brother, and would like them extra good?â€
“Thank you, but these will do very well,†answered the other.
“Oh, do come along, Milly! I can’t think how you can
waste so much time over a beggar!†cried the other little girl,
pulling at the sleeve of her friend’s dress. “I’m off!†she said,
running homeward. Milly soon followed her friend, but not
before she had given a bright nod to the flower-girls.
Only buying a bunch of flowers; but even that little deed is
made great by the kind words which rest like a sunbeam in the
sad and weary heart.
158
THE FLOWER GIRL.
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, THE DEWDROPS,
AND THE SNOW.
LILY of the valley pushed up its green leaves as the
spring opened, hung out its tiny white bells and breathed
its perfume on the air. Every evening a host of little
dewdrops came and sat on its green leaves, or nestled in its
white flower bells, and the lily loved the dewdrops and took
them into her heart.
All through the hot summer the lily dwelt in a cool retreat,
shaded by tall forest trees, by lowly ferns, and by rankly-grow-
ing grasses, and dewdrops came to her every evening, sitting on
her green leaves, nestling in her flower bells, and going down
to dwell in her loving heart. The lily was very happy.
Autumn painted the forest trees, and made the mountains
and va.eys look like splendid pictures. Then, as the days grew
shorter and the frost fell, the leaves of the trees lost their rich
coloring and dropped to the ground. And now the lily could
look up through the leafless branches of the trees above her ©
and see the blue sky and the bright sun. But the cold winds
began to moan and sigh, and to rush down into the valley where
the lily grew. As soon as their chill was felt by the dewdrops,
they said, “Now we must go, sweet lily, but we will come
again.†;
And the lily was sad at this, and drooped her leaves as the
gentle dewdrops crept out of her heart and were kissed away
by the wind. Then all her leaves faded, and her stem withered,
and she shrank away into the ground. After this the frost
came and built a prison of earth as hard as stone all about the
lily.
Meantime, the dewdrops, borne away by the winter winds,
rose in the air. Up, up they went until they were lost in the
160
7
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.
clouds among sister drops, which had, like them, risen from the
earth. Colder and colder it grew in this high region, until the
drops were changed into pure white snow and came drifting
down to the earth. ,;
How beautiful it was! Old men and children came out to
look at the soft flakes that dropped through the air like the soft
down of birds; not pattering noisily, as the rain, but touching
all things gently and silently. Soon the dull, brown earth and
every tree and shrub were clad in garments as white as inno-
cence.
Down in its frozen cell slept the lily. It could not hear the
‘snowflakes that dropped on the ground above its resting-place,
even if their coming had not been in silence, for its sleep was
like the sleep of death.
For many weeks the snow rested above the lily’s hiding-
place, softening the frozen earth and drawing out the hard and
chilling frost. Flake after flake melted and went down to search
for the lily. At last they found her and awakened her with
_ kisses, and she said, “Oh, my sweet dewdrops! I thought you
were gone forever.â€
But they answered, “No, we have come to you again, as we
told you when the winds bore us away and carried us into the
sky. We came back as snow, and have softened and warmed
the frozen earth over your head. The spring is almost here.
Soon you can push up your green leaves and hang out your
white bells, and then we will rest on your leaves again and creep
into your fragrant blossoms.â€
At this the lily’s heart thrilled with delight, and she began
to make herself ready for the coming spring. A few weeks
longer, and many more dewdrops came down and told the lily
that all was ready above. And they gathered about her, and
crept into her chilled heart, and like good angels, as they were
to the lily, bore her up to the regions of air and sunshine. And
161
THE WHITE MAGNOLIA.
then she spread forth her green leaves again, and hung out her
row of white flower bells, filling the air with sweetness. And
every evening and morning the dewdrops came to her as of old,
and she took them lovingly into her heart, and they were very
happy.
THE WHITE MAGNOLIA.
WHITE magnolia grew far up on a tree, and sighed to
be down in the garden with the other flowers.
“T am of no use away up here,†she said. “Nobody
sees me, and when I breathe out my sweet odors, the wind bears
them off and they are lost.â€
But even as she sighed her complaints a soft hand reached up
and took her gently from the stem that bore her, and she heard
a voice say,—
“How pure and sweet !—pure as my patient Lily.â€
Then the hand that held her tenderly bore her to an innex
chamber, where a sick child lay upon a bed.
“This beautiful magnolia,†said the voice which had sounded
so sweetly, “grew on a tree just outside your window. It hag
breathed the purest air and drunk the warmest sunshine. Its
heart is full of sweetness.â€
And the hand held her close to the sick child, who was re-
freshed by her beauty and fragrance.
Then the magnolia quivered with delight, and, breathing out
her very heart upon the air, filled the chamber with a rich per-
fume.
“T am content,†she said a little while afterward, as she lay
on the pillow beside the sick child, her soft white leaves
touching the cheek as soft and as white as themselves.
162
fd
PICKING THE MAGNOLIA,
THE TIGER.
JQ\HE tiger is just a giant cat.
He has no mane, but his body is all covered over with
black stripes, as you see in the picture.
In India there are vast tracts of waste land called jungle,
overgrown with tall, thick bushes and reeds. It is there chiefly
that the tiger has his haunts.
Unlike the lion, he runs so swiftly that the fleetest horse can-
not overtake him.
He goes over the ground at a fearful rate, by making bounds
or springs, one after another.
By day, as well as by night, the tiger is on watch for his
prey.
When an army is marching near a jungle, it sometimes
happens that a tiger will spring out.
With a frightful roar he will seize a man, and carry him off
before anything can be done to save him.
Have you ever thought of what use whiskers are to cats? -
Lions have great whiskers, and so have tigers, and all other
animals of the cat tribe. .
Whenever you find an animal with whiskers like the cat,
you may be sure that that animal is meant to steal softly among
branches and thick bushes.
By the slightest touch on the tiger’s whiskers, he knows when
there is anything in his path, and whether it would make too
much noise and alarm his prey as he creeps along through the
jungle.
Some years ago a number of English officers went out to
- hunt. .
In returning home after their day’s sport, they found in the
jungle a little tiger kitten.
164
THE TIGER,
SPRING HAS COLE.
They took it with them, and tied it with a collar and chain
to the pole of their tent.
It played about, to the delight of all who saw it.
However, just as it was growing dark, the people in the tent
were checked in the midst of their mirth.
A sound was heard that caused the bravest among them to
quail.
It was the roar of a tiger!
In an instant the little kitten strained at the chain with all
its baby strength, and tried to break loose.
With a loud wail it replied to the terrible voice outside.
Suddenly there leaped into the middle of the tent a huge
tigress !
She caught her kitten by the neck and snapped, with one
jerk, the chain which bound it.
Then turning to the tent door, she dashed away at full speed
_ to the jungle.
One cannot be sorry that not a gun was raised at the brave
‘mother as she bore her young one off in triumph.
SPRING HAS COME.
PRING has come back to us, beautiful spring!
Blue-birds and swallows are out on the wing;
Over the meadows a carpet of green
Softer and richer than velvet is seen.
Up come the blossoms so bright and so gay,
Giving sweet odors to welcome the May.
Sunshine and music are flooding the air,
Beauty and brightness are everywhere.
166
LOOKING OUT ON A BEAUTIFUL SPRING DAY.
KATIE’S RIDE DOWN HILL.
AKE good care of her, Frankie.â€
“Yes, ma’am.â€
“And be sure not to upset her in the snow.â€
“Wouldn’t that be fun !†laughed Katie, a merry light spark-
ling in her blue eyes. :
“Get on now! There! Hold fast, and away we go!†shouted
Frankie, and off he started with little Katie on his sled, pulling
her easily over the snow.
Away they went down the lane and across an old field to a
hill-side. This hill was steep, and there was a mill-race at the
bottom, now frozen over and covered with drifted snow.
“You get off now,†said Frankie, “and let me go down the
hill.â€
So Katie got off of the sled, and Frankie drew it to the edge
of the hill, then went down as swiftly as the wind. Katie almost
held her breath as she watched her brother, and when she saw
him safely at the bottom clapped her hands with delight.
“Get on with me,†said Frankie, as he came dragging his
sled to the hill-top, his face glowing with excitement. He had
forgotten his mother’s parting words, “Take good care of her,
Frankie.†«
“Oh, I’m afraid!†answered Katie.
“Get on! There’s no danger. I’m not afraid,†urged her
brother. “You don’t know how nice it is. Come! That’s a
dear little sister! It’s splendid fun!â€
So urged and persuaded, Katie, with her little heart in her
mouth, as the saying is, got on to the sled, sitting right behind
her brother and clasping both arms around him, while he held
the cord that was fastened to his sled.
Away they went, their speed increasing every moment, until
they reached a place where the hill pitched down at a sharp
angle, and beyond which the coaster had no power to stop him-
168
KATIE’S EXCITING RIDE.
KATIE’S RIDE DOWN HILL.
self, but must go on swiftly to the bottom, where by firmly
bracing his feet he could check his flight in time to keep free
- of the mill-race.
“Oh dear!†cried Katie, as she looked down the hill, “I’m
so frightened !â€
“No danger,†said Frankie, trying to speak bravely. “ Keep
right still and hold on.â€
Away they flew, swifter and swifter. It seemed to Katie as
if they were falling from a window.
In the next moment she was buried deep in the soft bed of
snow that filled the mill-race, and as safe from harm as if she
had tumbled into a bank of feathers.
Half a dozen boys, who had seen the flight down the hill and
the leap into the mill-race, came running to the rescue, and
soon pulled little Katie out of the snow-drift.
“T won’t tell mother anything about it,†said the dear child,
in a voice out of which the fear had not yet gone, as Frankie
brushed the snow from her hair and shook it from her coat.
“ But I will,†answered Frankie.
Frankie’s mother did not scold him, but she talked to him
about the care he should feel for his sister.
“You are older,†she said, “and know where danger is better
than she does.â€
And ever after Frankie was as careful and tender of her as
his mother could desire.
BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
UTTERCUPS and Daisies,—
Oh! the pretty flowers!
Coming ere the Spring-time,
To tell of sunny hours.
170
BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
While the trees are leafless,
While the fields are bare,
Buttercups and Daisies
Spring up here and there.
Ere the snow-drop peepeth ;
Ere the crocus bold;
Ere the early primrose
Opes its paly gold;
Somewhere on a sunny bank
Buttercups are bright!
Somewhere ’mong the frozen grass
Peeps the Daisy white!
Little hardy flowers,
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health
By their mother’s door ;
Purple with the north-wind,
Yet alert and bold,
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold!
What to them is weather?
What are stormy showers? |
Buttercups and Daisies
Are these human flowers!
He who gave them hardship,
And a life of care,
Gave them likewise hardy strength.
And patient hearts to bear.
171
THE FISHERMAN. —
Welcome, yellow Buttercups !
Welcome, Daisies white !
Ye are in my spirit
Visioned,—a delight !
Coming ere the Spring-time,
Of sunny hours to tell,—
Speaking to our hearts of Him
Who doeth all things well.
THE FISHERMAN.
{ANY of my little readers have been to
the sea-side, and seen the fishing-boats
tossing on the waters and the fishermen
preparing their nets. ue
Very much of this often dangerous work
is done at night. It was so in the time of
our Lord. The disciples, you will remem-
ber, “toiled all night and caught nothiag.â€
This will often happen now.
Ah! we little think when we see on our’
breakfast- or dinner-table the nice-looking
fish, of the perils to which the men and
boys who caught it have been exposed
during the stormy night, while we have
been fast asleep in our comfortable beds.
172
THE FISHERMAN.
FEEDING THE DONKEYS.
HY, here are our old friends, the donkeys, looking out at
us from their snug little stable, and pricking up their
great long ears, because they are so pleased to see us
and get something nice to eat! Well, you do look happy and
contented ; and no wonder, for John has just covered the floor
of your stable with clean straw, and placed a pail of fresh water -
for you when you are thirsty. Besides, you have had a good
dinner of oats, and your coats have been brushed till they look
soft and smooth.
And then, too, you never have any hard work to do, only to
carry Mary and Willie by turns upon your back, or baby in
the pannier, along the green lanes or across the meadows, for a
little way every fine day. You never have to pull along a
heavy cart, and get beaten with a big stick, like a donkey we
saw the other day. No wonder that poor animal put back his
ears and did not seem to want to move at all! When we were .
down at the sea-side last autumn we saw a great many donkeys,
but none of them looked so happy or had such smooth, soft
coats as you have.
The men would beat them, and when little Willie was having _
a ride upon one along the sandy shore he turned round and said
to the driver, “ Please don’t beat the poor donkey, because he
can feel just the same as you can; if you do, I must be taken
off.â€
Then the man looked ashamed and did not beat him any
more, and the donkey pricked up his ears and trotted away
when Willie patted his neck. Don’t you think Willie was
quite right? Little boys and girls should never be afraid to
speak out when they see poor animals ill treated.
174
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FEEDING THE DONKEYS.
MY DEAR KITTY.
AVE you seen my little Kitty ?
Her fur is soft as silk, |
» And every day I feed her
With bread and sweet new milk.
Her feet they are like velvet,
As she goes pat pat along,
And her soft and gentle purring
Is like a pleasant song.
Her ears are small and downy,
Her neck and breast are white,
Her eyes are like two tiny lamps,
To light her in the night.
She has no hat or bonnet,
But o’er her shoulders thrown
Is a mantle of Chinchilla,
To keep her nice and warm.
I have no little sister
To walk with, or to play,
But my pretty Kitty loves me
Almost as well as they.
And often we run races,
And play at hide-and-seek ;
Or she will climb the cherry-tree,
And through its branches peep.
I have never hurt my Kitty,
Or harassed her, or teased,
For she is God’s own creature,
And He would not be pleased.
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DEAR LITTLE KITTY.
NOT FAR AWAY.
UFFER the little children to come unto me, and forbid
them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.†. .
“ And He took them up in His arms, and laid His Nava
upon them, and blessed them.â€
Edith read the verses word by word as she stood by the
table, her hand on Willie’s shoulder, and Annie bending over
the precious book.
“The dear Lord loved little children, and took them in His
arms,†said she. ‘ Wasn’t that sweet and beautiful ?â€
“ But, sister,†and Willie’s face had a sober look, “He can’t
do that any more.†.
“Why not, darling ?â€
“Oh, because He went away up into heaven. We read about
that yesterday. He isn’t walking among the people, and talk-
ing to them, as He did once.â€
“ But the people may go to Him if they will, and so may the
little children, and He will take them in His arms and bless
them as' of old.â€
“How, sister? How can little children go to Him?â€
“They go near to Him when they are good.â€
“Yes, but I don’t understand what it means. I’m just a
little boy, you know.â€
“Yes, I know. But, if you try to be good, you will under-
stand all about it one of these days,—that is, when you grow
up to be a man. Now, I want you to think of the Lord and
Saviour as walking about among the people everywhere, though
they cannot see Him, healing their diseases, and feeding them,
and taking up children in His arms and blessing them.â€
“ Real, sister ?â€
“ More real, Willie, because now He heals the soul’s sickness,
and feeds the heart’s hunger, and blesses the children with good
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READING THE BIBLE.
JENNY’S CALL.
and loving affections. He has really come back again, though
you do not see Him; and if you read about Him in the
Bible, and try to do what He says is right, you will get so near
to Him that He will really take you up in His invisible arms
and lay His hands upon you and bless you.â€
Willie had a sweeter and tenderer look in his face after this,
Some new thoughts had come into his mind, and he felt that:
the Saviour was not so far off as he had once believed Him
to be.
JENNY’S CALL.
T’S no use, ma’am; I’ve been trying—and Jim with me—
the better part of an hour to catch that mischief of a
horse. She won’t be caught, that’s all.†4
Such was the report that Sam Wilbur, the hired man on the
Templar farm, brought to Mrs. Templar one bright May morn-
ing, when she had been planning a ride. As she was a delicate
woman, and not able to walk long distances, it was the more
trying
_ “T suppose it cannot be helped, but I wanted her very much,â€
she said, in a disappointed tone, as she turned away; and the
man strode off to the field, growling to himself about the “con-
founded brute†that had made him “lose an hour in planting-
time.â€
“Wanted what, mother?†said Jenny Templar, a bright,
brown-haired, brown-eyed girl of twelve, who had just come
into the room.
“Fanny,†was replied. “It is such a beautiful morning, I
meant to drive down to the village, get some groceries, and then
call for your Aunt Carrie, have a nice ride up the river-road
and through Hazel Woods, and bring her home to dinner, to
surprise you when you came from school. But father’s away
180
a as
JENNY’S CALL.
for all day, and the men have been trying nearly an hour to
catch Fanny; Sam says it’s impossible.â€
A clear, merry laugh rippled from Jenny’s red lips.
“Maybe it is, for him,†she answered, gayly. “But get
ready, mother ; you shall go if you like. Tl catch Fanny,
and harness her too.â€
“Why, my child, they say she jumped the ditch three or
four times, and acted like a wild creature. You'll only be late
at school, and tire yourself for nothing.â€
“Tt won’t take long, mother dear—she’ll come to me,†Jenny
said, cheerily ; and, putting on her wide straw hat, she was off
in a moment down the hill, to the field where the horse was
grazing.
The moment she heard the rustle of Jenny’s dress in the
breeze she pricked up her ears, snorted, and, with head erect
and eyes of fire, she seemed ready to bound away again at the
first attempt to approach her.
“Fanny, Fanny !â€
The beautiful creature turned her head, her eyes softened ; '
that gentle tone she well knew, and, glad to see her friend, she
came directly to the fence, rubbed her head on the young girl’s
shoulder, and, as soon as the bars were let down, followed her
willingly up to the house.
Sam had treated her roughly, and she remembered it. When.
she had been shy or in any way intractable, he had struck her,
but she knew and loved the voice that was always kind, the
hand that always guided her gently, often fed and caressed her,
and in cold weather threw the warm blanket over her. She
gave love for love, gratitude and willing service for kindness
and care.
This is a fact—that after the hired men had cried for an
hour to catch the horse, she would come readily at ~ call of
this girl of twelve years.
181
LITTLE SUNSHINE.
LICE HAYWOOD is four years old. She came with
the June roses four years ago. She is a happy, sweet
little girl, and has always been called “Little Sun-
shine.†Papa says there are no dull days in his home, for he
has Sunshine all the year round. But there were dull days in
that home once, when dear papa was very, very sick, and
mamma thought he was going to die. Such a dear little girl
Alice was then! Just as patient and good and quiet, helping
mamma in every way she could. The sickness was short, and
happy days came again when dear papa was well enough to
sit up and watch the children at their play.
One day, when mamma had gone out for a few-hours, she
left Sunshine to take care of papa. And most faithfully did
the little girl fulfill the trust, doing all she could for his comfort.
Wasn’t she a darling to be so thoughtful and kind? She is
always trying to make people happy; and when anybody tries
hard to do anything she is sure to succeed, you know. Do you
try, too, little ones! I hope you do; and I know that every-
body loves you if you do, and you are happy yourselves, like
Little Sunshine, who is curled up on the low. window-seat just
now talking to her kitty, telling it never to catch little birdies,
and when it catches mousies it must be very careful not to hurt
them.
HOW TO MAKE MOTHER HAPPY.
HY, mother, how bright and cheerful
you look to-night! What has hap-
pened ?†|
“T feel very happy, my dear, because my
182
LITTLE ALICE HAYWOOD AND HER PAPA,
HOW TO MAKE MOTHER HAPPY.
little boy has really tried to be good all day.
When my head was aching and I asked him
to amuse little sister, he played so nicely
and quietly with her that I was able to take
a nap, and waked up feeling much better.
Hearing all quiet below, I stole softly down,
and what a pretty picture it was I saw
through the nursery door! he was playing
at horse with sister, who was on his back,
with the new flag in her hand, and happy
as a bird, forgetful that mamma was out of
sight. Once, when sister Katie teased him
and he spoke quick and cross to her, he
turned round a moment after, of his own
accord, and said he was wrong, and asked
her to forgive him. I believe I should
grow young and never look tired or un-
happy again, if, every day, my little boy
and girl were as thoughtful, unselfish, and —
loving as they have been to-day.â€
Here’s a grand secret for you, little one.
And now that you know how to make
mother happy, may you keep her face
always full of sunshine.
184
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PLAYING HORSE WITH SISTER.
MUFF AND HER PUPPIES.
UFF ought to be a happy dog, and I think was so until
last week. Muff has a kind good mistress, who washes
and brushes and combs her, pets and fondles her, and
lets her sleep in a basket in her bed-room. ‘Then, too, Muff,
who is a warm-hearted Scotch terrier, has four loving friends
in her mistress’s brothers and sisters, and the doggie returns
their affection with her whole heart.
About a month ago, Muff’s happiness was increased by
having two dear little puppies. Never, she thought, had
mother more cause to be proud. The puppies were named by
the children Tippy and Cuffy: Tippy was, if anything, the
favorite child of his mother.
One morning, about a week ago, Muff left her children .
together in the basket in her mistress’s dressing-room, while she
went down-stairs to see the young people of the family start
off to a picnic. She stood in the garden and barked a gentle
farewell, thinking to herself that she would very much have
liked to join the picnic; but, after all, it was a proud thing to
be a mother, and of such lovely children too. Still Muff
sighed as the merry party drove away, and she could not help
thinking that puppies were a great tie.
As she turned back into the hall she heard a whining on the
staircase above her. “Dear, dear!†said she to herself, “surely
this must be one of my children, who has followed me, although
I told them not.â€
Raising her eyes, she saw Cuffy standing on the landing,
looking down upon her through the bars of the balustrade.
“Naughty child!†cried Muff, in dog language, “go back to
your basket. My Tippy is always good: he stays in his proper
place.â€
186
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MUFF AND HER MISTRESS.
GOING TO SCHOOL.
Thus spoke the fond and deluded mother. Alas! her Tippy
was lying but a few feet from her, quite, quite dead. He had
been the naughtiest puppy of the two, and had been the first
to leave the basket and go on a journey of discovery after his
mother. Cuffy had but followed his bad example, and was
crying at seeing his brother fall through the balustrade.
Poor Muff’s lamentations were so loud when she found out
the truth that the servants soon gathered round her, and tried
in vain to console her. At last she went to take care of Cuffy,
and bemoan herself in her basket with her one child left.
The next day, when all the family were at home, poor Tippy
was buried. Johnny, the eldest boy, dug the grave. Muff of
course was chief mourner, and Cuffy was carried in the arms
of little Lily to see Tippy’s interment. tty and little Horace
were there, with very sad faces, and the black pussy came to
look on too.
Mamma even was present, and felt quite melancholy at seeing
poor Muff leaning over the grave, and looking a last fond
farewell at her little dead puppy. ~~
GOING TO SCHOOL.
EAR little Anna Bell
Going to school,
Thinking of mamma’s words,
“Break not a rule ;â€
Thinking of mamma’s words,
“Kind be and true;
Learn every lesson well
Given to you.â€
: 188
ANNA BELL GOING TO SCHOOL.
THE WOODMEN.
H, Franky!†exclaimed little Charley, who sat one day
busily looking over a portfolio of engravings. “ What
a pretty picture! Do look at it! See how still the
oxen stand and how beautiful the trees are!â€
“Tt is pretty,†said Franky, “and it just makes me think of
some fun for to-day. Let’s be woodmen; the trees that have been
cut down are all lying about: it’ll be such fun.â€
“ All right,†cried Charley ; “let’s call cousin Reggy.â€
But before the three boys started, they went to the gardener’s
tool-house to search for choppers or hatchets. Unluckily they
found one,—an old and blunt one, it is true, but still a danger-
ous tool for boys to use. Then off they went, picking black-
berries and brown ripe nuts as they walked along, and soon
reached the wood.
They hastened through a part of the Sood where the trees
were close and the undergrowth thick, till they came to an open
glade. Here several trunks of trees lay strewn about: the
branches had mostly been cut off, and the smaller ones Jay piled
together ready to be tied into bundles for faggots. Franky, as
the biggest boy, of course had possession of the axe, and began
chopping away with all his might at anything he could find.
Charley and Reggy more sensibly employed themselves in tying
up great bundles of sticks, and showed a great deal of skill too
in twisting the more slender branches into ‘a kind of rope.
Master Franky, with coat off and shirt-sleeves turned up.
thought he presented a most workmanlike appearance, and was
perfectly satisfied with himself until, in an unlucky moment,
the chopper descended, not on the tree, but on his own shin.
Here was an-end of the day’s amusement. Poor Franky yelled
with pain, and it was lucky for him the chopper was so blunt;
but he had to limp home, supported by his cousins on each side,
nor could he walk comfortably for a week afterwards.
190
ong eS Soi
THE PICTURE OF THE WOODMAN.
NOW I LAY ME*DOWN TO SLEEP.
N the quiet nursery chambers,
Snowy pillows yet unpressed,
See the forms of little children
Kneeling, white-robed for their rest.
All in quiet nursery chambers,
While the dusky shadows, creep,
Hear the voices of the children,—
“Now I lay me down to sleep.â€
“Tf we die,’—so pray the children,
And the mother’s head droops low ;
(One from out her fold is sleeping
Deep beneath the winter’s snow) ,—
“Take our souls:†and past the casement
Flits a gleam of crystal light,
Like the trailing of his garments,
Walking evermore in white.
KISS OF THE RAIN.
RETTY little raindrops,
Laughing, kissed the daisy,
Dozing on its couch of green,
Oh, so hot and lazy!
Then the daisy upward sprang
And sang out so gayly,
“ Kiss again, kiss again,
Raindrops soft, I pray ye!â€
192
MY YOUNG SOLDIER.
UB-A-DUB! rub-a-dub-dub!
For half an hour the sound of Robie’s drum haa
come up to me from the room below; and rub-a-dub,
rub-a-dub-dub it still went on.
“T must talk to our little soldier boy,†said I to myself; and
so went down-stairs.
There he stood, with knapsack and sword and drum, gazing
intently on a troop of wooden horsemen arranged on a Pemnal
round table. His eyes were bright and his countenance full of
interest. The soldier-spirit was on him. How. handsome he
looked! He stopped drumming as I entered the room, and in
a little while sat down, showing signs of fatigue, for, as I have
said, his rub-a-dub had been going on steadily for half an hour.
“Going to be a soldier?†said I.
“Yes, ma’am,†he answered, promptly.
“ And kill people?â€
“Only enemies,†he replied.
“Have you enemies?†I asked.
The question set him to thinking.
“'There’s Bill Toland,†he answered, after a long pause, with
a flash of anger in his eyes. “I guess he’s an enemy, for he
threw stones at me yesterday, and last week he broke my kite.
He’s kicked my marbles out of the ring ever so many times.â€
“Then you would like to kill Bill Toland?†said I.
“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t; but I’d like to give him a good
pounding, if I was strong enough,†answered Robie.
“But you are not; so the fight would be unequal, and you’d
get the worst of it. It may be that a good pounding, as you
say, would be of service to Bill Toland, and teach him to let
other boys alone.â€
dl
193
MY YOUNG SOLDIER.
Robie’s face grew grave and thoughtful.
“You understand me, do you not?†I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,†he replied, without hesitation.
“Bad feelings,†I said, “are our worst enemies, as I have
often told you. Against these every one has to fight, and we
must conquer them or they will conquer us. In this warfare we
fight by the sword of truth. Do you know what that means ?â€
“No, ma’am,†he answered, with his clear eyes looking
steadily into mine.
“A real truth is something from the Bible, for the Bible is
God’s Word, and what God speaks must be the very truth
itself. Love your enemies is a truth, and may become like a
sword in your mind.â€
“How?†my boy asked, with his earnest eyes still looking |
into my face.
“Why do you feel like giving Bill Toland a good pound-
ing?†I asked.
“ Because I'd like to punish him for breaking up my kite
and throwing stones at me.â€
“That is, you are angry, and wish to be revenged on him?â€
Robie thought for a little while, and then answered,—
“Yes, ma’am, I guess that is it.â€
“The Bible says, Love your enemies. Now if you take that
truth as a sword, and fight with it, against whom will you
fight? Not angrily against Bill Toland, but against the feeling
of revenge in your heart that urges you to hurt him all you
can. And as soon as you begin to conquer this feeling, kindness
will flow in, and you will feel sorry for Bill, and wish to do him
good instead of harm. And so you will become a soldier in a
better and higher sense than you desired just now. There is a
good fight, my dear boy! We must all be soldiers, and give
battle to the enemies that are within our hearts. Anger, selfish-
ness, hatred, and all wrong and evil desires—these are our
194
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wry.
a
THE LITTLE SOLDIER BOY.
BY MY WINDOW.
worst enemies, who are ever seeking to overcome and destroy
us; and we must gird on the sword of truth and fight against
them, sure of conquest if we are watchful and brave; for in
this fight they who are for us are stronger than all who are
against us, for God and his angels are on our side.â€
BY MY WINDOW.
WAS sitting one pleasant June day before the window of
my parlor, busily sewing. Although I was doing nothing
more interesting than mending a little jacket which was
much the worse for wear, I was really enjoying myself very
much. Outside the window the trees and grass were brightly
green and the roses were in full bloom. In-doors, my ivy, which
had kept alive all winter in spite of the cold, was growing beau-
tifully, and my hanging baskets, watered carefully every day,
had long trailers of moneywort and maurandia, the latter just
opening its delicate purple flowers.
Bobby, the canary, seemed no less happy than I, for he was
singing his merriest song, and the gold-fishes in the glass globe
were darting about in the sunlight, making flashes of brilliant
color that constantly drew my eyes from my work.
There was a rustle at the door, and in glided my little niece
Nelly. She was so breathless with running that at first she
could not say a word. I wonder what the reason is that little
girls can never go anywhere without running as if somebody’s
life depended on their speed? But then I needn’t wonder, for I
remember I used to do just the same thing when I was a little girl.
“Oh, Aunt Lizzie!’ she exclaimed, as soon as she found
breath to speak, “ won’t you please tell me a story?†“Yes,
dear; bring your chair here by this lovely window and I will
tell you of something I read in the paper this morning.â€
‘ 196
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Paine LIZZIE SEWING BY THE WINDOW.
THE CHRISTMAS-TREE.
UCH a merry Christmas we were to have! Children and
grandchildren, papa, mamma, uncle, and aunt, all going
to, spend Christmas with grandpapa and grandmamma
at their great country house.
It was Christmas eve. We had just arrived, and I was dress-
ing, when my little Wide-awake came scampering into my
room, calling out, “Mamma, mamma, Totty has come! May
I go to the door, and see her get out of the carriage ?â€
“ Yes, dear,†I said, “ we will go together; but mind, you are
not to be rough to Totty. Little boys should always be gentle
when they play with little girls.â€
We were standing in the hall, welcoming the new-comers,—
Totty and her papa and mamma. Wide-awake was very affec-
tionate to his pretty little cousin, and the two trotted off together
hand in hand.
Many little feet besides Totty’s descended from carriages that
afternoon at the hospitable hall-door. There was a children’s
party. The house was full of light and warmth, rosy smiling
faces, childish laughter, and other pleasant sounds of merry
Christmas-time. The children were all gathered together in the
drawing-room ; but at six o’clock the doors into the dining-room
were thrown open, and their little eager faces brightened as
they all trooped in. There stood a monster Christmas-tree,
grand and beautiful, looking like an enchanted thing, with its
toys and tapers glittering and shining; its flying angels and
fairies in the branches; its horses, carts, dolls, balls, tops, and
picture-books underneath.
Wide-awake and Totty stood side by side comparing notes as
tne beautiful things were handed to them in turn. The branches
of the tree being stripped, each had something, even to baby
crowing in grandpa’s lap.
198
TT Tim
INCA
THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
OUR CHARLEY AND THE WATCH. —
2
4
UR Charley is the smartest little fellow alive. At least I
think so, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of
babies. Not that our Charley is really a baby, after all.
He will be two years old some day if he lives long enough. He -
thinks himself quite a man when he can put on his papa’s boots
and gloves. But the desire of his heart is for a watch. He
can see no reason why he should not own a watch. It is such
a pretty thing, and it says “tick, tick,†so funnily that he is
sure it was made on purpose for such little fellows as he. And
I am equally sure that nobody ever owned and carried a watch
with half the pleasure that Charley would, if any one would
only be kind-hearted enough to give him one.
Sometimes grandpa takes the little rogue on his knee and
holds his watch to his ear. Charley seizes the seal with one
hand to make sure the watch does’ not escape too soon, and
listens intently to the “tick, tick,†which says such wonderful
things to him. Then he begins to make remarks. He says,
“oh!†and “ah!†and “oh!†again; and I, who understand
every word he says, know he is expressing his wonder and de-
light in the finest language of which he is capable.
Then, when he has listened long enough, he begins to beg
for the watch. He claps his little hands, and twists his little
mouth into the most coaxing shape, and looks so pleadingly at
grandpa. But grandpa, selfish, cruel man that he is, puts the
watch back in his pocket, and says, “No, my young man, I
can’t do it.†It is too bad, indeed it is! I could almost give
him a watch myself, rather than see him so disappointed, though
he is too brave to cry.
Once Charley was a happy boy. His uncle gave him a
measuring-tape which rolled up with a spring into a case some -
200
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EVENING HYMN.
thing like a watch. He thought it was a watch, and I don’t
believe that General Grant when he was elected President of
the United States was as proud and rich as our Charley. He
marched up and down the room swinging his watch by the tape
in a way that would have been its certain destruction if it had
been a real watch, and showing it to everybody in the greatest
delight. But if anybody wanted to take it,—“ No, thank you!â€
He could be as choice and as stingy with his watch as they
had been with theirs. The most delightful part was that his
watch would tick a great deal louder than grandpa’s when the
spring inside wound the tape up. Indeed, Charley was a
happy boy. Some day, when he gets big enough to know how
to take care of it, he shall have a real watch of his own.
EVENING HYMN.
ESUS, tender Shepherd, hear me;
Bless thy little lambs to-night ;
Through the darkness be thou near me,
Watch my sleep ’till morning light.
All this day thy hand has led me,
And I thank thee for thy care ;
Thou hast clothed me, warmed and fed me,
Listen to my evening prayer.
Let my sins be all forgiven,
Bless the friends I love so well;
Take me, when I die, to heaven,
Happy there with thee to dwell.
THE CAT RABBIT.
N a comfortable basket, lined with green baize, not far from
the kitchen-fire, lay a large white pussy-cat with two
kittens, one white, with black spots, and the other yellow.
She licked them all over till her rough tongue ached, so that
she was obliged to rest it, and as soon as it was rested she licked
them all over again.
The cook bustled about the kitchen, and lifted saucepans on
and off the fire, without noticing the basket and its occupants
much, except to place an occasional saucer of milk within reach
of Mother Puss.
By and by a little girl came in, carrying something very
carefully in her hands.
“What do you want here, Miss Alice?†said the cook. “The
kitchen is not the place for young ladies.â€
“Oh! do let me come in, cookey dear,†said the little gu;
“T’ve got something for pussy.â€
“T always looks after dumb animals, Miss Alice; the cat
don’t want nothing at all,†answered the cook. a
“Oh! this isn’t anything for her to eat; it’s something for
her to take care of. My white rabbit has got such a number
of little ones, more than she can possibly take care of pro-
perly, and I thought as pussy has only got two kittens, it
would be such fun to give her one of them. I’m sure she'll be
kind to it.â€
“You had better take it back to its own mother, miss,†said
the cook. “The cat has got enough to do to look after them
two. She’s heavy enough on the bread and milk as it is.â€
“Do let me try, cookey dear. If she’s the least unkind to
it, ll take it away again.â€
“Well, I suppose you must have your own way, miss,†said
203
THE CAT RABBIT,
the cook; “but I don’t answer as the cat don’t bite the poor
little thing’s head off.†wa « F
The old cat was asleep just then, and Alice approached the
basket softly, put the little rabbit carefully down by her side,
and watched the effect anxiously. To her great delight, as soon
as she opened her eyes, pussy gave it an affectionate lick all
down its back. The little rabbit nearly toppled over, for the
touch was much less gentle than what she was accustomed to:
but she evidently only thought her mother was in a hurry, and
cuddled up close to her, and Alice felt satisfied.
“Now, miss,†said the cook, “you’d best be off out of my
kitchen. I want to get on with the dinner; and I should say
as you'd better take that there rabbit with you, and put it back
in the hutch.â€
“Oh, no,†said Alice, “it’s quite happy. Please send the
whole basket of pussies up to the nursery by and by, and I
shall see how they get on.â€
“Tt ain’t natural-like !†soliloquized the cook, as the little girl
left the kitchen.
“Very odd that I didn’t notice this one before!†said the old
cat to herself. “T certainly thought there were only two! I
even counted them on my claws for fear of mistakes.†But she
soon ceased to wonder, and took caré of it as tenderly as if it
had been her own.
BEAUTIFUL hands are they that do
The work of the noble, good and true ;
Busy for them the long day through.
Beautiful feet are they that go
Swiftly to lighten another’s woe
Through summer's heat or winter's snow.
204
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THE OLD CAT NURSING THE LITTLE RABBIT.
CHRISTMAS CAROL.
ERE we have the picture of a poor little barefooted boy
selling Christmas carols. How cold he looks! I hope
° some one will take him in and give him a good hot
breakfast.
This picture makes me think of a very beautiful Christma.
carol I learned when I was a little girl; I will tell you what it
is, and on Christmas morning you can surprise mamma and
papa by repeating it:
Little children, can you tell—
Do you know the story well,
Every girl and every boy—
Why the angels sang for joy
On the Christmas morning?
Yes, we know the story well ;
Listen now, and hear us tell,
Every girl and every boy,
Why the angels sang for joy
On the Christmas morning.
Shepherds sat upon the ground,
Fleecy flocks were scattered round,
When the brightness filled the sky,
And the song was heard on high
On that Christmas morning.
206
THE SWALLOW.
Joy and peace the angels sang,
And the pleasant echoes rang,
“Peace on earth, to men good will ;â€
Hark! the angels sing it still
On the Christmas morning.
For a little Babe that day,
Christ, the Lord of angels, lay—
Born on earth our Lord to be;
This the wondering angels see
On that Christmas morning.
Let us sing the angels’ song,
And our pleasant notes prolong ;
This fair Babe of Bethlehem
Children loves, and blesses them
On the Christmas morning.
yp
THE SWALLOW.
HERE are five kinds of swallows that come to us in the
summer. ‘There is the chimney swallow, the swift, that
makes a squealing noise as he flies, the house martin,
about which we shall have something to say, and the sand
martin, that makes deep burrows in a cliff or in a sand-bank,
and places her nest at the bottom, a little after the fashion of
the kingfisher.
The chimney swallow does not always build in the stack of _
chimneys, but chooses often to place her nest under the eaves
of an outhouse, or even among the rafters of a barn.
One spring a pair of swallows were resolved to build in the
rafters of a summer-house. They were not in the least dis-
turbed by the constant presence of persons going in and out,
208
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“TH
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THE NEST BUILT BY THE SWALLOWS.
.A LITTLE STORY.
but completed their task, carrying pellets of mud and soft earth |
in their beaks, and bents of grass to mix with it.
When the saucer-shaped nest was finished, the eggs were laidâ€
and hatched without any misfortune happening. The young
nestlings had now to be fed every few minutes from morning
till night. It was a matter of curiosity how the old swallows
would like to pass in and out over the heads of persons sitting
in the summer-house, and who, by putting out their hands,
could touch the nest. But this fact did not deter them from
performing their parental duties, and the little birds grew and
throve merrily.
Their heads were soon seen peering above the edge of the
nest. As a rule, they were silent; but long before any one
could discern the parent bird, they had spied her out in the
far distance. They would set up a chirp of delight, raise them-
selves in the nest, and a row of little beaks would open wide.
A LITTLE STORY.
H, the book is a beauty, my darling,
The pictures are all very fine,
But it’s time you were soundly sleeping,
For the little hand points to nine;
So, here’s a good-night—but give me
A dozen of kisses or more,
To make me forget what vexed me,
To-day, in the dull old store.
Can’t go till I tell you a story?
Well, a long, long time ago,
When I was a little wee fellow—
No bigger than you, you know—
» 210
A LITTLE STORY.
When I hadn’t a nurse, as you have,
And my papa was gone for goods,
I ran away from my mamma,
And got lost in the big pine woods.
Pll tell you just how it happened :
I was hunting for eggs, you see,
And all over the house and the garden
My mamma was hunting for me;
Hunting and calling, “Oh, Willie!
Ho, Willie! where are you, my son?’
And I heard her and hid in the bushes
And thought it the jolliest of fun.
Naughty? Ah, Robin! I know it,
But I didn’t think of it then ;
I laughed and said, “I’m a robber,
And this is my dear little den ;
I'd like to see any one take me,
I reckon—O-ho! what’s that ?â€
And away I went after a squirrel
As round and as black as my hat.
No, I didn’t forget my dear mamma,
But “boys will be boys,†I said ;
And I kept a good eye on squirrel,
And followed wherever he led,
Over briers, and bogs, and bushes,
Till the night fell blackly about,
And I found I was far in the forest
And didn’t know how to get out.
What became of the squirrel? Why, Robin!
_ To be thinking of him, and not me!
211
ERNEST.
When I hadn’t a thing for my pillow
That night but the root of a tree,
With a bit of soft moss for its cover,
And never a star overhead ;
Oh, oh! how I cried for my mother,
Till I slept—and dreamed I was dead
T awoke in my own little chamber:
My papa was holding my hand,
And my mamma was crying beside me;
I couldn’t at first understand
Just what it all meant—when they told me
I wasn’t to stir or to speak,
For I was half dead when they found me,
And had been very sick for a week.
But I pretty soon thought of the squirrel,
And the bushes and briers—and then—
“Oh, mamma, forgive me,†I whispered,
“For hiding away in a den!â€
“Hush, hush! my poor darling!†she answered,
And I turned my face to the wall,
Crying softly, because I was sorry.
Now kiss me good-night. That is all.
ERNEST.
HAVE a dear little friend named Ernest; he is fond of
boys’ games, and sometimes makes a terrible noise in the
house. In short, he is a regular boy; but I love him
because he is so good and kind to his little sister Rosa, who is
212
ERNEST,
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much younger than he is: he is seven and she is only three
years old. Last summer poor little Rosey was very ill, and
Ernest used to sit by her bed and watch her; he never made a
noise in the house at that time, but thought always of his poor
little sister ill up-stairs.
His grandmamma came one day and took him out for a long
drive. They went to a toy-shop, and just as she was going to
buy him a beautiful horse and cart, he said,—
“T think, grandma dear, I would rather have something that
might amuse Rosey.â€
Then grandmamma bought him a beautiful picture-book.
Little Rosey was getting better then, and on that very day
she was sitting up for the first time after her illness. He
brought it to the bed and sat by her while she looked at it.
Rosey was so pleased, she clapped her little hands, and cried out
with delight.
213
SONG OF THE FAIRIES.
FIRST FAIRY.
AIRIES who live in the murmuring shell,
Rocked by the ocean’s slumberous swell,
What gifts can ye bring to the little child
That mortals have lured from your home so wild ?â€
OCEAN FAIRIES.
“We will bring sweet light for her sunny eyes,
Paint her soft cheeks with the rarest dyes ;
We will deepen her dimples with fingers light
And tint her lips with the coral bright ;
Give for her teeth the lustrous pearl,
And golden gleams for each flaxen curl,
And bind her feet with a loving charm
That she never may stray to shame or harm.â€
FIRST FAIRY.
“Fairies who live in the woodland sweet,
Where the zephyrs follow your dancing feet,
What beautiful gifts from the mossy glade
Can your love bring to the little maid ?â€
WOOD FAIRIES.
“We will catch the south wind when it blows,
And fan the child to a soft repose ;
We will gather the nectar the wild bees sip
From the thornless rose for the darling’s lip ;
We will bring the dew from the lily fair,
And sprinkle its gems in her shining hair,
And our fairy art shall charm away
All blight from the heart of the blossom, May.â€
214
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THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE FAIRIES.
PLAYING PEDDLER.
ALL.
“From our homes in the shells and beside the fountain,
From the woodland buds in the cleft of the mountain,
From our haunts ’neath the fern-leaves in the brake,
From the lilies that float on the silver lake,
We promise to guard with charm and spell
The little mortal we love so well;
Creep through the grass with footsteps light,
Kiss the sleeper a soft ‘ good-night ;’
Then away to our homes, for the clock strikes ‘One;’
Come, fairies, come, our frolic is done!â€
Os | PLAYING PEDDLER.
Seranky- ‘and Etty were eeiane at the
pictures in a new book that papa had
brought home, when they came across one
of a peddler showing his wares. After look-
ing at it a long time Franky made up his
mind that he would dress up as a peddler,
and borrow nurse’s workbox to carry as the
peddler’s box. Nurse, having gone out for
a day’s holiday, gave him a fine opportunity.
So Master Frank, strapping a toy-knap-
sack upon his shoulders and nurse’s box in
front, started off. Htty and Lucy bought
some old bits of ribbon and lace from him,
216
PLAYING PEDDLER
content with this:.he trotted out into the
garden and down to the gardener’s cottage,
where he displayed his wares in triumph to
the gardener’s large family of small children.
It seemed quite like reality.
KITTY’S TROUBLE.
HE sun was shining bright and warm that morning, and
you would have thought that Kitty’s heart ought to have
been full of sunshine too, but there was a sad frown on
her face, and her little feet went up the stairs very slowly, as if
it were the hardest work in the world to go at all.
Kitty was wondering to herself why she must always do just
what she did not like to do, and why her mother and Aggie
found so many errands for her on that particular morning.
She had been taught to obey at once and not to eramble:
but though no word of complaint left the pretty red lips, her
mind was all in a fret, and so the ugly frown grew on the rosy
face.
By and by, when she had wiped the dishes, found Aggie’s
thimble, and brought down the basket of colored balls which
were to be sewed for the new carpet, her mother called to her
from the kitchen, where she was busy making pies.
“ Kitty,†she said, “you may go out for a little walk now;
but Willie must go with you.†She made no objection to taking
the little brother; but wished in her heart that he could stay at
home, and for once she might walk out alone.
Poor Kitty! she saw nothing beautiful in the wood that
morning; her little rebellious heart had taken entire possession
of her, and she forgot how many loving things the poor, tired
mother was always doing for her.
Qn and on went little Kitty, never heeding where the path
led, but ere long her thoughts returned to the brother, for in
spite of her ill humor she loved him very dearly.
“We must turn back, Willie,†she said, kindly, “or mother
will be worried about us.†But when she started, everything
looked strange and there was no path. Poor little girl! as she
218
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a
KITTY LOST IN THE WOOD.
KITTY’S TROUBLE.
walked on the wood seemed to get thicker, and Willie grew so
tired that she was forced to sit down on the ground and take
him on her lap, where he soon fell asleep as peacefully as in his
little bed at home. It was quite dark now, except where the
moon shone in long slanting rows through the trees.
“Oh, mamma, if you only could find your little Kitty!†she
sobbed ; “I would never be tired of work again !â€
And then suddenly lights flashed about her; she heard the
tramp of men’s feet and her father’s voice ringing out in a glad
shout, and the next moment she was in his arms.
How happy Kitty was, and how glad her dear mother felt as
she clasped in her arms the little lost one!
Kitty had taken cold sitting on the damp ground, and for
many days she was obliged to stay in bed and let her mother
and Aggie wait on her.
When at last she did come down again she was glad to run
on numberless errands for her dear mother and sister. And if
she ever was tempted in her heart to complain, she thought of
the terrible time when she was lost in the woods and could not
see a dear face or hear a dear voice, and it was wonderful to see
what a change came over her face. The rose or the lily, laugh-
ing out of doors, was not sweeter then than the cheerful little
face which Kitty lifted to the sunshine.
Count not things as small or great ;
Rather count as wrong or right.
On the right’ side throw your weight,
Feeble be your blows or strong,
Be your service brief or long.
220
AN ALLEGORY
NCE or twice a little leaf was heard to cry and sigh, as
leaves often do when a gentle wind is about. And the
twig said,—
“ What is the matter, little leaf?â€
“The wind,†said the leaf, “just told me that one day it
would pull me off and throw me on the ground to die.â€
The twig told it to the branch, and the branch told it to the tree.
And when the tree heard it, it rustled all over and sent word
back to the leaf.
“Do not be afraid; hold on tightly, and you shall not go
off till you want to.â€
And so the leaf stopped sighing, and went on singing and
rustling. And so it grew all summer long till October. And
when the bright days of autumn came, the leaf saw all the
leaves around becoming very beautiful. Some were yellow, and
some were striped with colors. Then it asked the tree what it
meant. And the tree said,—
“All these leaves are getting ready to fly away, and they
have put on these colors because of their joy.â€
Then the little leaf began to want to go, and grew very
beautiful in thinking of it. And when it was gay in colors, it
saw that the branches of the tree had no colors in them, ane so
the leaf said,—
“Oh, branch, why are you lead-colored, and we golden? â€
“We must keep on our work-clothes,†said the tree, “ for our
work is not yet done; but your clothes are for a holiday, be-
cause your task is over.â€
Just then a little puff of wind came, and the leaf let go with-
out thinking of it, and the wind took it up and turned it over,
and then let it fall gently down under the edge of a fence,
among hundreds of leaves, and it never waked up to tell us
what it dreamed about.
221
IN THE SPRING.
A\\ V ER field and over forest
Smiles a livelier green,
Shower after shower kindles
Color in between ;
And the sparrow on the house-top,
- Robin in her nest,
Each one feels a kindly presence—
Spring-time in her breast.
Can it be some angel careth
For the drop of dew?
That some tender spirit blendeth
O’er the violet blue?
Where, think you, the lily getteth
All her gold and snow?
What sweet voice among the roses
Tells their time to blow?
There the swallow, joyful, saileth
Through remembered skies ;
Here a daisy, ‘neath your footstep,
Brings a sweet surprise ;
Here the breeze of morning bloweth
From some sunny shore;
There the purple twilight goeth
Through Night’s golden door.
Buttercups the warm gold garner,
Blue-bells nod their heads,
And the red hearts of the roses
Light the garden-beds ;
222
IN THE SPRING.
Bud, and leaf, and flower, heavenward
Lift themselves to-day :
Shall our human hearts refuse to
Learn the happy way?
Oh, the spring-time! oh, the spring-time,
Smiling in the sky!
Dreaming on the happy present,
On the grass I lie.
All the birds among the branches
Sing in merriest strain :
Through the dawn of such a morning
Shall we live in vain?
223
A PRAYER ANSWERED.
E read a little story the other day that we must tell in
our own words.
Nelly came home from school one afternoon and
complained bitterly of her teacher; called her cross and un-
reasonable, and said a good many hard things against her,
because she had kept her in at recess. After her excited
feelings had spent themselves, and she had grown quiet and
thoughtful, her father said,—
“Did you ever pray for your teacher, that God would make
her more gentle and loving?†.
“Why, no,†answered the little ‘girl, looking up, half sur-
prised at the question, into her father’s face.
“Well, suppose you try that, and see how things get on to-
morrow,†said her father.
That night, when Nelly said her prayers, she added these
words at the close,—
“And please, Lord, make teacher Annie kinder and more
patient.â€
And after thinking for a few moments, she added these
words,—
“And please, Lord, help me to be a better girl at school.â€
On the next day Nelly came home from school with a bright
face and a bounding step.
“YT think your prayer for teacher Annie must have been
answered,†said Nelly’s father, as he drew his little girl to his
side. “Let me ask if no good came to teacher Annie because
of your prayer for her?â€
“T was better to her, and that made her better to me,â€
replied Nelly.
“Why were you better to her?â€
Nelly thought for a little while, and then answered,—
224
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NELLY AND HER TEACHER.
CONCEITED CARRY.
“ Because I prayed for her, I think. If I hadn’t prayed for
her, I’m afraid I shouldn’t have tried so hard not to do anything
to annoy her.â€
Every night after that, in Nelly’s prayer was one petition for
teacher Annie. The teacher did not know of this; but to
Nelly she was greatly changed, and never was cross, unreason-
able, or impatient toward the little girl, who often said on coming
home that “Teacher Annie was so sweet to-day,†and that she
‘loved her dearly.â€
CONCEITED CARRY.
ARRY FENNER yas a very clever little girl, and un-
fortunately she had been so often praised for her mere
cleverness that she had come to look down on all boys
and girls, and grown-up people, too, who were not clever, and
to fancy that it did not much matter how she behaved, so long
as she said smart things. When grown-up people were talking
together, Carry would contradict them, and make fun of what
they said, and give her valuable opinion as to what they were
talking about.
One day her brother troughe home a friend from school, and,
growing tired of play, Catry proposed a game of checkers.
“Will you have white or black ?†asked John, as he emptied
the men out of the box.
C. “Oh, it doesn’t matter to me. You’d better take the
black. They’ll suit you. Why do you look so black? I sup-
pose it’s because you know that I shall win, and you don’t like
to be beaten by a young lady.â€
J. “We've got to see about that.â€
WeeOh; bit I can beat papa; can’t I, Harry ?â€
226
CONCEITED CARRY.
H. “Sometimes.â€
C. “You know I nearly always do, Harry.â€
J. “ Perhaps he lets you.â€
C. “No, that he doesn’t.â€
J. “Then I should say he can’t be much of a player.â€
Carry tossed her head to intimate that John Knowles would
soon find out that a first-rate player had condescended to play
with a bungler like himself, and when the board was dressed,
said loftily,—
227
15
THOMAS HENRY.
t
“There! you can take the first move.â€
“No,†answered John, “let’s play fair.â€
He held out his fists; Carry touched the one with the white
man in it, and made the first move. “It won’t be long before
I shall make the last,†thought Carry; but, though she was a
tolerable player, she was no match for John Knowles, and soon
lost the game.
“T didn’t play the losing game, after all,†said John, laughing
as he took the piece. “You'll have another game, won’t you?â€
“No, you rude boy; I believe you cheated!†cried Carry,
bursting into tears.
She caught up the board in her passion, closed it, dashed it
on a sideboard, and rushed out of the room. The draught-
board had overturned an inkstand, and the ink had run down
on the carpet.
“ Miss Carry ’11 cutee it now for her tantrums, and serve her
right,†said John Knowles. “Come along, Harry, and have a
game at trap before tea.â€
_ It was a bitter mortification to have to own to her defeat be-
fore her father and mother, but, like bitter medicine, it did her
good. In more senses than one, I am happy to say, that after-
noon’s experiences took the conceit out of Carry.
THOMAS HENRY.
HOMAS HENRY was a cat of the Maltese persuasion.
A noble fellow he was, too. He wore a smooth, spotless
coat, with a beautiful white bosom and clean stockings.
When I first made his acquaintance, he was eighteen months
old—just the age of his mistress’s little grand-daughter. But as
cats get along to maturity so much faster than babies, Thomas
228
THOMAS HENRY \
dlenry was a grown-up, very dignified cat, while little Miss
Minnie, though a very precocious young lady, was yet a
baby.
But baby and pussy were excellent friends. He would allow —
Minnie to take great liberties with him. She would poke her
fat fingers in his eyes, lay her head on him as he was taking a
nap in the sun, or even pull his tail, which he would allow no
one else to do. If she pulled too hard, he would rise in a very
dignified manner, and walk off with a look at baby that seemed
to say, “I could scratch you, but you are only a baby.â€
One day Thomas Henry walked into the sitting-room where
we all sat, and laid down in the great square of sunshine that
was spread over the braided mat on the floor. Presently,
Minnie trotted up to him, and getting down on her knees beside
him, put her little mouth close to his ear, and said, “Say-ee
prayers, Tommy ;†and putting his fore paws together, she
repeated, in a solemn tone, “ Now I lay me.†Thomas looked
at her very wisely, but said nothing.
“Oh, ’ou tan’t talk, tan ou, Tommy ?†and Minnie looked
very pityingly at puss, who no doubt thought, “ What will she
do next?â€
As the weather grew cooler, Minnie’s grandmother had a
cunning little cook-stove put up in her sitting-room. It was
the dearest little cook-stove I ever saw. Hardly larger than a
toy cook-stove, it was so small and so neat it did not look out
of place in the sitting-room, and saved making up a fire every
meal-time in the big stove in the kitchen.
Thomas Henry admired the stove too. It stood so high he
could lie comfortably under it in a cold day; or if that place
was too warm, he could get a nice place behind it where he
could stretch out full length. One afternoon his mistress, her
daughter and baby went out to make calls, leaving Thomas
Henry sleeping behind the stove. By and by the sun went
229
THOMAS HENRY,
down and the room grew cold. Thomas got up and went under
the stove to finish his nap, but the fire had gone out, and he
was not very comfortable there.
The stove-oven door stood open. Thomas Henry put his
nose in. It smelt warm there. It looked snug and cosy in
there. So in went Thomas Henry into the oven. Pretty soon
came home the ladies.
“Bless me!†said his mistress. “ It’s after six, and I have
biscuit to make for supper ;†and she shut up the oven-door and
filled the fire-box with pine wood, and, lighting the fire, went
off into the pantry to knead her biscuit.
Baby Minnie’s mother sat down before the fire to undress her
little one. In a moment she hears a strange noise, but thinks
it is the boys on the street, Talking with Minnie for a moment
more (I dare say poor Thomas Henry thought it was hours),
she does not heed it, but presently she says, “What is that
queer sound? Why, it’s in the stove. Is it the wood? No,
it’s in the oven. Why,†with a great jump, almost throwing
Minnie on the stove, “ it’s that poor cat!†and throws open the
oven-door, and, hardly daring to, puts in her hand and draws
out—Thomas Henry.
One minute more, and he would have been a dead cat; but
as he is dropped on the hearth-rug, he slowly rises and crawls
off to the bed-room and _ hides under his mistress’s bed. And
there he stayed for hours, for the two women were so frightened
they dared not look under to see if he were alive. But he did
live, though his poor feet were so blistered the skin came off.
All winter long after that he kept a respectable distance from
the stove. He used to come in from the kitchen and make a
wide circuit around the stove to get to his sunny corner. After
a time he ventured to lie on the outer edge of the hearth-rug.
But if any one rattled the oven-door, he would jump up and
run to the bed-room.
230
THE CONTRAST.
THE CONTRAST.
HE old woman sits at the cottage door,
That the heat of the sun she may feel ;
The little child plays on the sanded floor,
And watches the turning wheel—
The turning wheel in those aged hands,
For she still goes on spinning the same,
Though her eyes are dim and she understands
Few words or of praise or blame.
——
______
Nor anything should I destroy
Which others may for good employ ;
Not even tread beneath my fect
A crumb some little bird might eat.
231
THE SHEEP.
AZY sheep, pray tell me why
In the pleasant fields you lie,
Eating grass and daisies white,
From the morning till the night?
Everything can something do,
But what kind of use are you?
Nay, my little master, nay,
Do not serve me so, I pray:
Don’t you see the wool that grows
On my back to make you clothesâ€
Cold and very cold you'd be,
If you had not wool from me.
True, it seems a pleasant thing
To nip the daisies in the spring ;
But many chilly nights I pass
On the cold and dewy grass,
Or pick a scanty dinner, where
All the common’s brown and bare.
THE SHEEP.
CLEAN LIPS.
HIS picture makes me think of a dear old lady I once
- knew, who taught a school of young children. She
cared very tenderly for her little lambs, trying to bring
them to the fold of the good Shepherd. She always had a
pleasant word and kindly smile for them, and often had a flower,
an apple, or a kiss to give for such as behaved properly, and
the simple rewards from her loving hands were prized.
This lady’s little pupils never had to be sent. to school. They
ran off cheerfully before nine o’clock, that they might be ready
to hear the first tinkle of her school-bell. One day her heart
was deeply wounded by hearing that a fine little boy had said
some naughty words at play. She called Charlie to her, and
looking sorrowfully into his bright blue eyes, she asked, “ Have
you used naughty words to-day, my child?â€
“T didn’t swear,†whispered Charlie.
“ Are you willing to go home now and repeat your words to
your dear mother ?â€
“No, ma’am,†faltered the little culprit, as he hung his head
and blushed deeply. :
“And, my dear boy, have you forgotten,†said his kind old
friend, “that One was listening to you holier than any mother,
even yours, and loving you far more than even the best mother
can love her little son? He heard in heaven your naughty
words. I am afraid, my child, that when the lips are naughty,
the heart must be very unclean too. I cannot make your heart
clean, Charlie, but I will ask the Lord Jesus to do it for you.
One thing, however, I can do,—I can cleanse your lips. They
would not be fit for your mother’s ‘good-night’ kiss if I did not
clean them for you.†The old lady then called for a bowl-of
clean water, and took from her desk a bit of fine soap and a
little sponge. Then bidding Charlie open his mouth, she washed
CLEAN LIPS.
it well, teeth, tongue, lips, and all. She then wiped them dry
with a soft, fresh napkin, and bathed his tear-stained face and
kissed him. This simple punishment and her real sorrow, ap-
parent to the child while she inflicted it, made a deep impression,
not merely on Charlie, but on the whole school, who witnessed
the transaction.
Charlie is now a man, but never since that day has one im-
proper word passed his lips. Ever since, at the very thought
of such a thing, he says he fancies he tastes soap, and hears
again the gentle voice that reproved his youthful naughtiness.
That boy was myself.
235
THE ROBIN’S NEST.
ROBIN’S nest in the ivy hung ;
Like a tiny cradle it lightly swung
To and fro with each passing breeze,
That gently ruffled the ivy leaves.
Two little light-brown heads peeped out ;
What was the mother so long about?
O, for a worm! O, for a fly!
This was the baby robins’ cry. °
Under the tree and under the hill,
Stood a cottage beside the mill;
And, idly leaning over the gate,
Two boys were sealing the robins’ fate.
‘‘T will climb up the rock,†said Ben.
“ All right; we will call it settled then.â€
So he handed down the poor little nest,
With the baby robins in soft down dressed.
O, mischievous boy! I greatly fear
You will pay for your purchase very dear.
Already the birdie drops his head,—
The poor little thing will soon be dead.
But Bessie laughed in her childish glee,
And cried, “ Don’t grieve, I will set you free;
Wake up, dear robins, look up, look out!
See for a moment what I’m about.â€
So she gently took the dear little nest,
With the baby robins in soft down dressed,
And, climbing the rock so high and steep,
She laid them down in the leaves to sleep.
236
qa
aT
STEALING THE ROBIN’S NEST.
BROWNIE.
HAT is Brownie going to do, I wonder?†thought
mamma, as the little girl crept softly as a mouse out
of her pretty bed and trotted over to the chair that
held her clothes. Mousie did not know that mamma was awake,
so she very carefully pulled out her two tiny white stockings
and sat down on the carpet. Her real name was Marion, but
her father called her all manner of pet names, and oftenest
Brownie or Mousie. Brownie, because her hair was brown,
her eyes were brown, and she ran and played so much out-doors
in the sunshine, so often forgetting her hat or taking it off to
fill it with wild flowers, that her face and hands were brown
too. Not quite as brown as the chestnuts she liked so much.
Brownie couldn’t tell whether she cared most for gathering the
chestnuts or sitting before the kitchen fire watching for them to
boil, while old Katy, the colored cook (she was browner than
chestnuts), told her stories of the days when she was a little
girl, or eating them in papa’s lap, when he had pared them
nicely around the rim, as she said.
Mousie he called her, because, though she could run fast and
play hard, though she talked and laughed and sang, she had a
way sometimes—always when any one in the house was sick—
of gliding about so quietly that nobody knew she was coming.
If papa came home tired and had a headache, the first thing he
knew the little brown hand was nestling among his dark locks
and trying to rubaway the pain, or holding the camphor-bottle,
or putting a pillow under his head.
Brownie was a little mouse only three years old; but she had
a large thought that morning. She knew baby kept mamma
awake nights, and that she did not feel very well. Papa, too,
was away from home, and Brownie resolved to help mamma.
238
BROWNIE.
[t was to be a surprise, too. Oh, how pleased mamma would
be when she found her little girl could put on her stockings all
by herself!
It was a pretty room where Brownie slept. There was a soft
carpet, with wreaths of roses on a brown ground. There were
roses on the wall, too, with their bright green leaves and tiny
buds, but the rest of the paper was white. There were white
muslin curtains, drawn back with pink ribbon, to let in the glad
morning sunshine, and the breath of the sweet-brier that climbed
up around the south window and peeped in now and then as it |
rode the breeze for a rocking-horse, to say good-morning to
Brownie. The furniture was cream-colored, with sprays of
rose-buds; and mamma’s coverlet was white marseilles, but
‘ Brownie’s own little bed had a pink-and-white one, which she
called “ purfly booful.â€
But what is Brownie doing? There she sits, in a rose-wreath,
her tiny pink toes peeping out, and tries the stocking one way
and another.
“Oh, dear me! what’s the matter? I know it’s inside out ;â€
and, with a great pull, off came the stocking, and Brownie
almost tumbled over. She managed to turn it and tried again.
This time it was up-side down, but Brownie didn’t know it till,
after a great deal of tugging, it was on indeed; but oh dear!
that didn’t look right—the heel of the stocking lay across
Brownie’s instep. Off it came again, and she looked it all over,
and held it square in front of the pink, waiting toes. She
made up her mind it was right this time, and she put in her
foot a little way. Another look, another pull, and Brownie
sprang up in triumph, and almost clapped her hands; but, just
in time, she remembered that she wasn’t going to wake mamma.
Then she thought of the other stocking—but where was it?
Brownie was quite sure that she drew it out with its mate from
the pile of clothes in papa’s arm-chair, but she couldn’t see it.
239
SEEING HIMSELF IN A LOOKING-GLASS.
Yes—there it was, on the floor, half-way. Brownie seized the
runaway and sat down again. She held it this way and that
till she was pretty sure about it, and, with two or three tugs, on
it went; and Brownie caught a wee laugh from mamma. She
scampered across the floor fast as her feet could carry her, and
climbed up on the bed; and—well, I wouldn’t have cared to
count the kisses she received.
Little children, Brownie had helped mamma more than she
knew. True, mamma wouldn’t have been a minute putting on
the little stockings, while it took Brownie full five. But if
some one had come in and done all her sewing, it would not
have been worth so much. Do you know why? That would
have helped her hands, but Brownie’s love helped her heart.
It went down deep and drew out two or three little thorns it
found there, and dropped like oil on a sore spot that was aching,
though Brownie didn’t know it; and mamma felt stronger and
happier and more hopeful all day.
Remember, little ones, when mother is sick or troubled, that
—next to father—your love can help her more than anything
else. ;
SEEING HIMSELF IN A LOOKING-GLASS.
T is often curious to watch animals when they see them-
selves reflected in a looking-glass. If the animal is bad-
tempered, he will show anger and make ready for a
fight; if good-tempered and ‘playful, he will exhibit pleasure.
A lady had two canaries, one bold and fearless, and the other
timid and shy. If a looking-glass was set before them, one
would grow so angry that it was hard to pacify him, while the
other would begin to sing the moment he caught a reflection of
himself, and ruffle his feathers with delight.
240
SEEING HIMSELF IN A LOOKING-GLASS.
A very pretty incident is related of a canary bird by a
Georgia paper. The door of the bird’s cage was occasionally
left open, that he might enjoy the freedom of the room. One
day he happened to light upon the mantel-shelf where there
was a mirror. Here was a new discovery of the most profound
interest. He gazed long and curiously at himself, and came to
the conclusion that he had found a mate. Going back to his
cage, he selected a seed from its box, and brought it in his bill
as an offering to the stranger In vain the canary exerted
himself to make his new-found friend partake ; becoming weary
of that, he tried another tack. Stepping back a few inches
241
AMY AND HER DOVES.
from the glass, he poured forth his sweetest notes, pausing now
and then for a reply. None came, and moody and dispirited
he flew back to his perch, hanging his head in shame and
silence for the rest of the day, and refusing to come out of his
cage again.
AMY AND HER DOVES.
ONCE knew a girl whose name was Amy. Amy is
Aimée in French, you know, but this Amy was not a
Loved little girl. She was an orphan, living in her rich
uncle’s house. Some one gave her two beautiful doves, and you
can fancy what pets she made of them. The cage was generally
hung up in a lumber-room at the top of the house; for although
Amy’s aunt had allowed the doves to be left, she had soon dis-
covered that their cooing was “tiresome,†and told Amy that
she must keep them somewhere out of hearing. So Amy had
carried them up into the box-room, and there, except it was
fine enough to carry them out for a walk, she spent most of her
leisure time with her pets. Nobody in the house seemed to care |
for the doves except Amy, and nobody seemed to have any love
for Amy except the doves. One of them she called “Mamma,â€
and the other “ Papa.†They became so tame that when she
opened their cage door they would fly out together on to her
head or into her lap, or one would light on her right shoulder
and the other on her left, and there they would sit cooing, nest-
ling in her hair, and rubbing their beaks against her cheeks,—
the dove’s way of kissing. The middle of November came,
and Amy took her doves out to enjoy the Martinmas summer
which had come after a long spell of cold, rainy weather. Most
of the leaves had fallen from the trees; but the air was still and
warm, and the skv was almost as blue, and the sun was almost
‘ 242
/é
THE DOVE SHOT BY SOME LITTLE RASCAL.
AMY AND HER DOVES.
as bright, as on a fine day in June. Amy put down her cage
on a little knoll in a little wood, where I happened to meet her,
and let her doves out. They rustled about in the sunlit fallen
leaves, and very beautiful did the creamy couple look as they
picked their way over the russet, crimson, and pale gold. They
perched themselves upon a sunny bough, and cooed drowsily as
they warmed their backs. They flew overhead in little circles.
“Mamma†got tired presently, and came back into the cage,
but “ Papa†kept on flying round and round, flecking the blue
sky like a snowy little cloud. Suddenly there was a bang, and
down dropped poor “ Papa.†Some little rascal, loitering about
with a pistol, had shot him. Amy rushed to the rescue, but
“Papa†was quite dead when she brought him back to the
cage, and widowed “Mamma†pined away and died about
three weeks afterwards. Amy buried them both in the little
wood, and put up a little tombstone.
Wuat does the sparrow chirp,
Gathering food,
All the day over
To feed its young brood ?—
Dear little children
Waste not the day ;
Always remember
That work sweetens play.
ON A SUNDAY MORNING.
ON A SUNDAY MORNING.
N a Sunday morning
How pleasant ’tis to hear
The church bells chiming merrily,
So musical and clear.
As I, musing, listen,
Thus they seem to say—
“Little Mary, come to church,
Come to church to-day.â€
Down the daisied meadow,
Up the leafy lane,
From each homestead gathered,
Comes a swelling train.
Mary, too, is coming,
With the rest to pray,
Where the bells still tinkle
“ Come to church to-day.â€
245
LIONS AND TIGERS.
Oo
WO lions and a tiger!†said Louis, hold-
ing up a picture. “Aren’t they splendid-
looking fellows? I wonder if they’re going
to fight ?â€
“The tiger would get the worst of it, ’m
afraid.†answered the® boy’s father, as he
examined the picture. “Two lions to one
tiger are more than a match. They are
splendid-looking fellows, that’s a fact. How
grandly the artist has drawn them !â€
“Don’t you think, papa, that the tiger is
a little scared ?â€
“TY shouldn’t wonder, for the two great
lions look as if they were going to eat him
up. But it isn’t likely they'd find that a
very easy thing to do, for a tiger is about
as strong as a lion, and more active. He’d
make a hard fight for his life, even with
two against him.†|
“T think he wants to get off,†said Louis.
“ You see that his head is set away from the
lions; but they could catch him, I reckon.â€
246
LIONS AND TIGERS.
“Tn a race the tiger would beat them.
At a single bound he could go eighteen or
twenty feet.â€
“Then he’d better be off,†said Louis.
“So I think. Running will be better for
him than fighting. Two lions to one tiger
are too much.â€
NevER be cruel to a dumb animal; it
cannot tell how much it suffers.
Goop-NnatTurRE, like the bee, collects
sweetness from every flower; while ill-
nature, like the spider, finds only poison.
247
FRED AND DOG STEPHEN.
OW just one good cuddle,†said little six-year-old Freddie,
“and then I’ll be ready for school;’ and he curled
2 himself up like a young Turk in his mother’s lap, and
nestled there in a very enjoyable way.
She was sitting by the dining-room window; it was open, and
a pitcher of wild phlox and pink and white wake-robins stood
in it. While they sat there they saw Uncle Rube, who lives
over on the hill-side, coming along the crooked path with a
basket on his arm. His head was down, and he was thinking
so intently that he did not hear the steps behind him of his
. young dog, Stephen.
Now, Rube means to make the best dog in the world of
Stephen, the playful little puppy! and he never permits him to
follow him anywhere unless by special invitation. About once
a week he will say to him, “Stevie, would you like to go tc
your grandfather’s with me? Come on, then,†and here they
will come, the puppy so glad that his gait is more awkward
than ever, his fat body, twisted out of all shape, wriggling
along, while his tail will flap about in every direction and his
ears look like wilted cabbage leaves.
“He doesn’t know Stevie is behind him, does he, ma? and
now let’s watch and see what they will both do when they find
out.†So they snugged down by the window and tittered and
watched, and anticipated rare fun.
Uncle Rube was whispering to himself and nodding his head,
and making gesticulations with his open hand, while Stephen
trotted with his little, soft, careful feet behind him, smelling of
the ground, and thinking green grass with the dew sparkling
on it was just made purposely for dogs to admire.
Just as Rube came to the big gate and stopped to unlatch it.
248
FRED AND DOG STEPHEN.
he heard a little whiffy breathing behind him, and then he
‘looked and saw Stephen. He was very much surprised, but as he
never scolded the dog, he simply said, in a very earnest way,
“Steve, I am astonished! You go right back home immediately.
Youre a great boy, indeed, to sneak along without ever being
invited! I didn’t want you, sir, or I’d have told you so. Now
go right back again.â€
Oh, it was so funny! Stephen just threw his head back, and
whirled on his heels, and ran with all his might down the
crooked path. His fat body was the color of a dingy buff
envelope that had been carried a long while in a man’s old hat
or pocket, and was so awkward and ungraceful that it went
every way over the ground. His big, soft ears just flapped in
the wind, and his unmanageable tail whipped about first on one
side and then on the other.
Fred and his mother laughed and shouted merrily, and as
long and hard as they could. There is nothing any more
ridiculously funny than a puppy of a tender, green age.
Fred’s mother said, “I never saw a dog so good to mind
before.â€
“Oh, mother,†said Fred, “the funniest of all was that he
ran just ’zactly as if he liked to be scolded off home. . Why,
he did it the same as if it was something good. Now, if he’d
been coming this way, and as fast as that, we wouldn’t have
wondered at it; that’s the way I always do when I go to our
Aunt Lizzie’s. I hurry my very fastest, so Pll have longer to
stay. But Stevie did that just as if he was pleased and liked
to do it.â€
“Well now, Fred,†said his mother, “even you, a boy who
can read and talk, may learn a good lesson from a dog. Let
his example teach you to do cheerfully whatever you are bidden,
even though it be something you very much dislike, just as
kindly and with the same heartiness as though you loved it.
249
SAMMY.
If you are sick and have to take medicine, don’t make ug‘y
mouths and shake your head and pout and cover up your face ;
it makes it a great deal harder to take than though you took
hold of it, and braced your nerves, and brightened your eyes,
and didn’t stop to think and shrink from it.
“ And if I want you to do anything that you always dislike
to do, let this teach you .o go right off and do it in the same
pretty, bright, jolly way that puppy Stephen ran back home
after he had got clear to his grandfather’s gate. Only think!
Even my little Freddie, reading in phe third reader, can learn
a good lesson from a little wee puppy.â€
Then the school-bell rang, and Fred’s irothae kissed him
“ ood-morning,†and he started off with his books, and as he
turned round the corner his white teeth showed prettily, as, half
laughing, he said to himself in wonderment: “ Dear little
Stevie-dog ! he just ran back ’zactly as if he wanted to.â€
SAMMY.
WON’T!†said Sammy, resolutely, as he turned away
from the sight of the bright rosy apples that lay scattered
on the ground just within the fence. They were very
ripe; Sammy was poor, and had little beyond necessary food,
and he wanted them very much. “ But they’re not mine,†he
thought, “and I won’t,—no, I won’t!†and he hurried on, even
shutting his eyes lest they should try him too much. “
Presently his foot struck against a stone, and over he went.
Poor Sammy! he was not much hurt, but it seemed rather
hard that even his good resolution should bring him trouble.
Wait a moment, little folks, and see what the trouble was for.
“Halloo! my boy, what’s this?†said the cheery voice of
250
SAMMY.
eh
Farmer Dale, who was driving home from market in his old
wagon. He jumped out and he lifted Sammy up. “ Be a little
man! Look there,†pointing to the apple-tree; “just craw:
under the fence, and pick up a couple of the best you can find.
I guess you'll forget the bump in less than a minute. Maybe,
though, you don’t like apples,†he said, roguishly: “it isn’t
every boy that wouldn’t stop and help himself without asking.â€
“Oh, I do like them indeed, sir,†said Sammy. “I wanted
them,—oh so much! I was afraid I should take one, and so I
shut my eyes and ran on.â€
“ And then you tumbled over a stone, eh?†said the farmer,
laughing heartily. “Well, run along and get your apples.â€
251
THE ROOK.
“T sha’n’t forget it of him,†he said to his wife, after telling
her the story at dinner. ‘“That’s the sort of a boy to make a
good, trusty man.†a age
And he did not forget it. When Sammy grew older, Mr.
Dale took him to help on his farm, allowing him to go to school
in winter, and for years he had a happy home. He grew up a
good and useful man, respected and liked by all who knew him.
And when he had a home of his own, and his own trees laden
with fruit, somehow he never could see a poor child look long-
ingly at the bright red apples without putting one in his hand.
THE ROOK.
E need hardly describe the rook, you know him so well.
His silky, glossy plumage shines in the sun as he
struts about the field looking for worms. He is the
earliest abroad of all the birds. When the dew is on the grass,
and ere the sun has risen, he betakes himself to the open
country to feed on the worms that have come to the surface of
the ground, or he even condescends to visit the streets and
search among the heaps of refuse that lie there waiting to be
carried away.
All day long you may see him at work in the pastures. He
breaks up pieces of dry mould with his bill, and digs among
the tufts of grass, to see if any grubs have harbored there.
Towards evening the rooks collect into straggling flocks, and
come back to their homes to roost. Every summer evening, at
the same hour, they sail over the garden to their abode in the
tree-tops, with the regularity of clockwork. ¢
In autumn all the family cares of the rook are over, and he
leads a life of ease and of enjoyment. He puts on a new suit of
252
DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY.
glossy black, and wanders at large over the country. Some-
times he and his friends visit gardens and orchards, but in this
case one or two rooks are always perched on the wall, to give
notice of danger. |
There is an old saying, “As happy as a rook on a Sunday,â€
and some people think that rooks know when Sunday comes
round. They seem to take it for granted that nobody is at
home, and will venture much nearer to the house than on any
other day, and take liberties not to be thought of at any other
time. They seem quite at their ease, and aware that no gun is
to be fired on a Sunday.
DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY.
LITTLE boy, in a holiday-time, set off to walk to his
home. It was some distance, but the day was bright
and clear, and he had Gyp for company.
‘When he came out into the open fields he saw young lambs
sporting by the side of their mothers, and here and there cows
were standing knee-deep in the cool streams. After walking
about a mile he began to feel somewhat tired, when he reached
a shady bank, where a pretty mossy seat had been made near
aspring. He threw himself at his length upon this seat and
was enjoying the rest it afforded, when another boy came along, —
seemingly much more wearied than’ himself, and asked him to
make room that he might sit down and rest beside him in the
shade.
“Oh, no!†said our little boy, “do not ask me to move, I am
so comfortable; I have found this resting-place, and if you go
on farther, I dare say you can find another spot as pleasant
where you can also stretch yourself and rest.†i
254
DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY.
The little traveler no doubt thought him very selfish, but he
said nothing and passed on. When our little boy was rested
enough he arose and resumed his walk. The sun was now
-pretty high and the heat was great, and it was only here and
there that shady places were to be found. He felt more and
more tired, and longed to reach a large tree which he saw at a
distance, that he might rest himself in its shade. As he drew
near he found that the ground all about it was wet and miry,
but a rude bench had been formed beneath the tree, and on
it was stretched the very same boy that had passed him an hour
before. He felt, as he drew near, that he had no right to ask
255
VU AS YUU WOULD BE DONE BY.
the boy to allow him room upon that bench to rest himself,
weary and heated as he was, for had he not refused to render
the same kindness a short time before to that very boy? He
stood still awhile, and looked wistfully at the seat, and the boy
_who occupied it, seeing it, sprang up, and making room for him,
said,—
“Come, you look as tired as I was an hour ago; I know you
will be glad to rest yourself in thisshady place. Here is plenty
of room for both of us. Come and sit down awhile.â€
Which of these two little boys felt happiest ?—the one who
thought only of his own comfort, or he that did as he would be
done by, and returned good for evil?
While your thoughts are full of cheerfulness and your hearts
of innocence and good affections, one of the first evils you must
learn to strive against is selfishness. To give way to this evil
may seem to be pleasant, but have you ever tried how much
pleasanter it is to strive to do to others as we would have them
do tous? Now, the first chance you have, try this.
My friend Mr. Tongue
He lives in my mouth,
He’s red as a rose,
And as warm as the soutk -
He has not a foot,
Yet how quickly he goes,
My little friend Tongue,
_As red as a rose!
WAITING FOR PAPA.
WAITING FOR PAPA.
APA is late this evening. The sun has
gone down, the new moon has hung her
silvery crescent in the sky, and one bright
‘star has come out, glowing and sparkling
like a diamond, while dusky shadows are
creeping slowly over the woods and fields.
“T wonder why my papa doesn’t come ?â€
little Mark says, as he stands looking away
off to where he can see the road winding in
WAITING FOR PAPA.
and out among the trees and hills. “I want
my papa.†|
Mamma calls to her little boy. “It’s
getting cool and damp, Mark,†she says.
“Tm waiting for papa,†he answers.
“He won't come any sooner for your
staying out there,†mother says.
“But PIlsee him sooner.†|
Dear little Mark! yes, he will see him
sooner, and there is a great deal in that.
“But Pm afraid you'll take cold, darling,â€
calls his mother; “the dew is falling.â€
_ “Just a minute longer, mamma,†an-
swered back the child. |
A silence, and then a shout, a clapping of
hands and pattering of feet, and Mark is
bounding away like a young fawn. Mamma
comes to the door just in time to see his -
white dress vanish like a gleam of light
through the gate leading into the road.
She calls; but he is already beyond the
reach of her voice. She runs down to the
gate, arriving just in time to meet papa
with Mark in-his arms, and the child’s head
lying peacefully on his breast.
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