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diff --git a/11129-0.txt b/11129-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e55ff1 --- /dev/null +++ b/11129-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1201 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11129 *** + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 11129-h.htm or 11129-h.zip: + (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/1/2/11129/11129-h/11129-h.htm) + or + (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/1/2/11129/11129-h.zip) + + Images of the original pages are available through the Florida + Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities, + PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and + British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001840.jpg + or + http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001840.pdf + + + + + +NO AND OTHER STORIES. + +COMPILED BY UNCLE HUMPHREY. + +1851. + + + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +Preface +No +Willy and the Beggar Girl +The Good Son +The Sick Mother +Cornelia's Prayer +Forgiveness +The Guilty Conscience +Acorn Hollow +Industry and Idleness +Envy +Conclusion + + + + +PREFACE. + + +This little book has been prepared for the instruction and amusement of +my dear young friends, and it is hoped that they will be profited by its +perusal. It will show them their duty, and lead them to perform it. + +The little word _No_ is of great importance, although composed of but +two letters. It will be of great service in keeping us from the path of +sin and misery, and of inducing us to walk in "wisdom's ways, whose ways +are ways of pleasantness, and all whose paths are peace." + +Exercise charity to the destitute, as did little Willy. + +Be good sons and daughters, and you will be a comfort to your parents, +in sickness or in health. "Forgiveness is an attribute of Heaven." + +A guilty conscience gives us no peace. + +Which of you have a place of resort that is like Aunt Lissa's Acorn +Hollow? + +Be industrious, and learn to make yourselves useful, if you would be +respected and beloved. + +Beware of envy, for it begetteth hatred. + +In short, I hope the reader who is now looking at this preface will +carefully read every word in the following pages; and not only _read_, +but _remember_, the lessons there taught, and thereby become wiser and +better. + +And when you have read this book so much and so carefully as to be able +to tell me what it is all about, when I come to your houses, another +little volume will be prepared for the young friends of + +UNCLE HUMPHREY. + +LYNN, January, 1851. + + + + +STORY ABOUT THE WORD NO. + +BY T. S. ARTHUR. + + +"There is a word, my son, a very little word, in the English language, +the right use of which it is all important that you should learn," Mr. +Howland said to his son Thomas, who was about leaving the paternal roof +for a residence in a neighboring city, never again, perchance, to make +one of the little circle that had so long gathered in the family +homestead. + +"And what word is that, father?" Thomas asked. + +"It is the little word _No_, my son." + +"And why does so much importance attach to that word, father?" + +"Perhaps I can make you understand the reason much better if I relate an +incident that occurred when I was a boy. I remember it as distinctly as +if it had taken place but yesterday, although thirty years have since +passed. There was a neighbor of my father's, who was very fond of +gunning and fishing. On several occasions I had accompanied him, and had +enjoyed myself very much. One day my father said to me, + +"'William, I do not wish you to go into the woods or on the water again +with Mr. Jones.' + +"'Why not, father?' I asked, for I had become so fond of going with him, +that to be denied the pleasure was a real privation. + +"'I have good reasons for not wishing you to go, William,' my father +replied, 'but do not want to give them now. I hope it is all-sufficient +for you, that your father desires you not to accompany Mr. Jones again.' + +"I could not understand why my father laid upon me this prohibition; +and, as I desired very much to go, I did not feel satisfied in my +obedience. On the next day, as I was walking along the road, I met Mr. +Jones with his fishing rod on his shoulder, and his basket in his hand. + +"'Ah, William! you are the very one that I wish to see,' said Mr. Jones +smiling. 'I am going out this morning, and want company. We shall have a +beautiful day.' + +"'But my father told me yesterday,' I replied, 'that he did not wish me +to go out with you.' + +"'And why not, pray?' asked Mr. Jones. + +"'I am sure that I do not know,' I said, 'but indeed, I should like to +go very much.' + +"'O, never mind; come along,' he said, 'Your father will never know it.' + +"'Yes, but I am afraid that he will,' I replied, thinking more of my +father's displeasure than of the evil of disobedience. + +"'There is no danger at all of that. We will be home again long before +dinner-time.' + +"I hesitated, and he urged; and finally, I moved the way that he was +going, and had proceeded a few hundred yards, when I stopped, and said: + +"'I don't like to go, Mr. Jones.' + +"'Nonsense, William! There is no harm in fishing, I am sure. I have +often been out with your father, myself.' + +"Much as I felt inclined to go, still I hesitated; for I could not fully +make up my mind to disobey my father.--At length he said-- + +"'I can't wait here for you, William. Come along, or go back. Say yes or +no.' + +"This was the decisive moment. I was to make up my mind, and fix my +determination in one way or the other. I was to say _yes_ or NO." + +"'Come, I can't stay here all day,' Mr. Jones remarked, rather harshly, +seeing that I hesitated. At the same moment the image of my father rose +distinctly before my mind, and I saw his eyes fixed steadily and +reprovingly upon me. With one desperate resolution I uttered the word, +'No!' and then turning, ran away as fast as my feet would carry me. I +cannot tell you how relieved I felt when I was far beyond the reach of +temptation. + +"On the next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I was startled and +surprised to learn that Mr. Jones had been drowned on the day before. +Instead of returning in a few hours, as he had stated to me that he +would, he remained out all the day. A sudden storm arose; his boat was +capsized, and he drowned. I shuddered when I heard this sad and fatal +accident related.--That little word NO, had, in all probability, saved +my life." + +"'I will now tell you, William,' my father said, turning to me, 'why I +did not wish you to go with Mr. Jones.--Of late, he had taken to +drinking; and I had learned within a few days, that whenever he went out +on a fishing or gunning excursion he took his bottle of spirits with +him, and usually returned a good deal intoxicated. I could not trust you +with such a man. I did not think it necessary to state this to you, for +I was sure that I had only to express my wish that you would not +accompany him, to insure your implicit obedience.' + +"I felt keenly rebuked at this, and resolved never again to permit even +the thought of disobedience to find a place in my mind. From that time, +I have felt the value of the word NO, and have generally, ever since, +been able to use it on all right occasions.--It has saved me from many +troubles. Often and often in life have I been urged to do things that my +judgment told me were wrong: on such occasions I always remembered my +first temptation, and resolutely said-- + +"'NO!' + +"And now, my son," continued Mr. Howland, do you understand the +importance of the word _No_?" + +"I think I do, father," Thomas replied. "But is there not danger of my +using it too often and thus becoming selfish in all my feelings, and +consequently unwilling to render benefits to others?" + +"Certainly there is, Thomas. The legitimate use of this word is to +resist evil. To refuse to do a good action is wrong." "If any one asks +me, then, to do him a favor or kindness, I should not, on any account, +say, no." + +"That will depend, Thomas, in what manner you are to render him a +kindness. If you can do so without really injuring yourself or others, +then it is a duty which you owe to all men, to be kind, and render +favors." + +"But the difficulty, I feel, will be for me to discriminate. When I am +urged to do something by one whom I esteem, my regard for him, or my +desire to render him an obligation, will be so strong as to obscure my +judgment." + +"A consciousness of this weakness in your character, Thomas, should put +you upon your guard." + +"That is very true, father. But I cannot help fearing myself. Still, I +shall never forget what you have said, and I will try my best to act +from a conviction of right." + +"Do so, my son. And ever bear in mind, that a wrong action is _always_ +followed by pain of mind, and too frequently by evil consequences. If +you would avoid these, ever act from a consciousness that you are doing +right, without regard to others. If another asks you, from a selfish +desire to benefit or gratify himself, to do that which your judgment +tells you is wrong, surely you should have no hesitation in refusing." + +The precept of his father, enforced when they were about parting, and at +a time when his affections for that father were active and intense, +lingered in the mind of Thomas Howland. He saw and felt its force, and +resolved to act in obedience to it, if ever tempted to do wrong. + +On leaving the paternal roof, he went to a neighboring town, and entered +the store of a merchant, where were several young men nearly of his own +age, that is, between eighteen and twenty. With one of these, named +Boyd, he soon formed an intimate acquaintance. But, unfortunately, the +moral character of this young man was far from being pure, or his +principles from resting upon the firm basis of truth and honor. + +His growing influence over Thomas Howland was apparent in inducing him +to stay away from church on the sabbath-day, and pass the time that had +heretofore been spent in the place of worship, in roaming about the +wharves of the city, or in excursions into the country. This influence +was slightly resisted, Thomas being ashamed or reluctant to use the +word "_No_," on what seemed to all the young men around him a matter of +so little importance. Still, his own heart condemned him, for he felt +that it would pain his father and mother exceedingly if they knew that +he neglected to attend church at least once on the sabbath-day; and he +was, besides, self-convicted of wrong in what seemed to him a violation +of the precept, _Remember the sabbath-day_, &c. as he had been taught to +regard that precept. But once having given way, he felt almost powerless +to resist the influence that now bore upon him. + +The next violation of what seemed to him a right course for a young man +to pursue, was in suffering himself to be persuaded to visit frequently +the theatre; although his father had expressly desired that he would +avoid a place where lurked for the young and inexperienced so many +dangers. He was next easily persuaded to visit a favorite eating-house, +in which many hours were spent during the evenings of each week, with +Boyd and others, in eating, drinking, and smoking. + +Sometimes dominos and backgammon were introduced, and at length were +played for a slight stake. To participate in this Thomas refused, on +the plea that he did not know enough of the games to risk anything. He +had not the moral courage to declare that he considered it wrong to +gamble. + +All these departures from what he had been taught by his father to +consider a right course, were attended by much uneasiness and pain of +mind.--But he had yielded to the tempter, and he could not find the +power within him to resist his influence successfully. + +It happened about six months after his introduction to such an entirely +new course of life that he was invited one evening by his companion +Boyd, to call on a friend with him. He had, on that day, received from +his father forty dollars, with which to buy him a new suit of clothes +and a few other necessary articles. He went, of course, and was +introduced to a very affable, gentlemanly young man, in his room at one +of the hotels. In a few minutes, wine and cigars were ordered, and the +three spent an hour or so, in drinking, smoking, and chit-chat of no +elevating or refined character. + +"Come, let us have a game of cards," the friend at last remarked, during +a pause in the conversation; at the same time going to his trunk and +producing a pack of cards. + +"No objection," responded Boyd. + +"You'll take a hand, of course?" the new friend said, looking at Thomas +Howland. + +But Thomas said that he knew nothing of cards. + +"O that's no matter! You can learn in two minutes," responded the friend +of Boyd. + +Young Howland felt reluctant, but he could not resist the influence that +was around him, and so he consented to finger the cards with the rest. +As they gathered around the table, a half-dollar was laid down by each +of the young men, who looked towards Thomas as they did so. + +"I cannot play for money," he said, coloring; for he felt really +ashamed to acknowledge his scruples. + +"And why not?" asked the friend of Boyd, looking him steadily in the +face. + +"Because I think it wrong," stammered out Howland, coloring still more +deeply. + +"Nonsense! Isn't your money your own? And pray what harm is there in +your doing with your own as you please?" urged the tempter. + +"But I do not know enough of the game to risk my money." + +"You don't think we would take advantage of your ignorance?" Boyd said. +"The stake is only to give interest to the game. I would not give a +copper for a game of cards without a stake. Come, put down your +half-dollar, and we'll promise to pay you back all you loose, if you +wish it, until you acquire some skill." + +But Thomas felt reluctant, and hesitated. Nevertheless, he was debating +the matter in his mind seriously, and every moment that reluctance was +growing weaker. + +"Will you play?" Boyd asked in a decided tone, breaking in upon his +debate. + +"I had rather not," Thomas replied, attempting to smile, so as to +conciliate his false friends. + +"You're afraid of your money," said Boyd, in a half-sneering tone. + +"It is not that, Boyd." + +"Then what is it, pray?" + +"I am afraid it is not right." + +This was answered by a loud laugh from his two friends, which touched +Thomas a good deal, and made him feel more ashamed of the scruples that +held him back from entering into the temptation. + +"Come down with your stake, Howland," Boyd said, after he had finished +his laugh. + +The hand of Thomas was in his pocket, and his fingers had grasped the +silver coin, yet still he hesitated. + +"Will you play, or not?" the friend of Boyd now said, with something of +impatience in his tone. "Say yes, or no." + +For a moment the mind of Thomas became confused--then the perception +came upon him as clear as a sunbeam, that it was wrong to gamble. He +remembered, too, vividly his father's parting injunction. + +"_No_," he said, firmly and decidedly. + +Both of his companions looked disappointed and angry. + +"What did you bring him for?" he heard Boyd's companion say to him in +an under tone, while a frown darkened upon his brow. + +The reply did not reach his ear, but he felt that his company was no +longer pleasant, and rising, he bade them a formal good-evening, and +hurriedly retired. That little word _no_ had saved him. The scheme was, +to win from him his forty dollars, and then involve him in "debts of +honor," as they are falsely called, which would compel him to draw upon +his father for more money, or abstract it from his employer, a system +which had been pursued by Boyd, and which was discovered only a week +subsequent, when the young man was discharged in disgrace. It then came +out, that he had been for months in secret association with a gambler, +and that the two shared together the spoils and peculations. + +This incident roused Thomas Howland to a distinct consciousness of the +danger that lurked in his path, as a young man, in a large city. He +felt, as he had not felt while simply listening to his father's precept, +the value of the word _no_; and resolved that hereafter he would utter +that little word, and that, too, decidedly, whenever urged to do what +his judgment did not approve. + +"I will be free!" he said, pacing his chamber backward and forward. "I +will be free, hereafter! No one shall persuade me or drive me to do what +I feel to be wrong." + +That conclusion was his safeguard ever after. When tempted, and he was +tempted frequently, his "_No_" decided the matter at once. There was a +power in it that was all-sufficient in resisting evil. + + + + +WILLY AND THE BEGGAR GIRL. + + + "An apple, dear mother!" + Cried Willy one day, + Coming in, with his cheeks + Glowing bright, from his play. + "I want a nice apple, + A large one, and red." + "For whom do you want it?" + His kind mother said. + + "You know a big apple + I gave you at noon; + And now for another, + My boy, it's too soon." + "There's a poor little girl + At the door, mother dear," + Said Will, while within + His mild eye shone a tear. + + "She says, since last evening + She's eaten no bread; + Her feet are all naked + And bare is her head. + Like me, she's no mother + To love her, I'm sure, + Or she'd not look so hungry, + And ragged, and poor. + + "Let me give her an apple; + She wants one, I know; + A nice, large, red apple-- + O! do not say no." + First a kiss to the lips + Of her generous boy, + Mamma gave with a feeling + Of exquisite joy-- + + For goodness, whene'er + In a child it is seen, + Gives joy to the heart + Of a mother, I ween-- + And then led her out, where, + Still stood by the door, + A poor little beggar-girl, + Ragged all o'er. + + "Please ma'am, I am hungry," + The little thing said, + "Will you give me to eat + A small piece of bread?" + "Yes, child, you shall have it; + But who sends you out + From dwelling to dwelling + To wander about?" + + A pair of mild eyes + To the lady were raised; + "My mother's been sick + For a great many days + So sick she don't know me." + Sobs stifled the rest + And heaved with young sorrow + That innocent breast. + + Just then from the store-room-- + Where wee Willy run, + As his mother to question + The poor child begun-- + Came forth the sweet boy, + With a large loaf of bread, + Held tight in his tiny hands + High o'er his head. + + "Here's bread, and a plenty! + Eat, little girl, eat!" + He cried, as he laid + The great loaf at her feet. + The mother smiled gently, + Then, quick through the door + Drew the sad little stranger, + So hungry and poor. + + With words kindly spoken + She gave her nice food, + And clothed her with garments + All clean, warm and good. + This done, she was leading + Her out, when she heard + Willy coming down stairs, + Like a fluttering bird. + + A newly bought leghorn, + With green bow and band. + And an old, worn out beaver + He held in his hand. + "Here! give her my new hat," + He cried; "I can wear + My black one all summer-- + It's good--you won't care-- + + "Say! will you, dear mother?" + First out through the door, + She passed the girl kindly; + Then quick from the floor + Caught up the dear fellow, + Kissed and kissed him again, + While her glad tears fell freely + O'er his sweet face like rain. + + + + +THE GOOD SON. + + +Little Martin went to a peasant and endeavored to procure employment, by +which he might be able to earn some money. + +"Yes," said the peasant, "I will take you for a herds-boy, and if you +are industrious, will give you your board and ten dollars for the whole +summer." + +"I will be very industrious," said Martin, "but I beg you to pay me my +wages every week, for I have a poor father at home to whom I wish to +carry all I earn." + +The peasant, who was pleased beyond measure at this filial love, not +only willingly consented, but also raised his wages much higher. Every +Saturday the son carefully carried his money, and as much bread and +butter as he could spare from his own mouth, to his father. + + Children, love and gratitude + Always please the wise and good, + But contempt and hate from all, + On the thankless child will fall. + + + + +THE SICK MOTHER. + + +A mother once lay very sick, and suffered great and constant pain. Her +children were all very sad and melancholy, and the large ones often +kneeled down together, and prayed that God would restore their mother to +health once more. + +The youngest child would stand all day by the bed of her mother, and +with tearful eyes, anxiously inquire when she would be well and get up +again. One day this little child observed a glass filled with some dark +fluid standing by the sick bed, and asked, "Mother, what is this?" The +mother answered, "My dear child, it is something very bitter; but I must +drink it, that I may get well again." "Mother," said the good child, "if +it is so bitter, I will drink it for you; then you will be well again." + +[Illustration] + +And the sick mother, in all her pains, had the comfort and consolation +of seeing how dearly all her children loved her. + + Parents, joy and comfort find + In a child that is good and kind; + But their hearts are very sad, + When the child they love is bad. + + + + + +CORNELIA'S PRAYER. + + +Cornelia was the joy and pride of her parents, for she was a slender, +graceful little creature, darting about like a young fawn, and her +cheeks were as fresh and blooming as the young rose when it first opens +to receive the dew. Added to this, she was blessed with a temper as +sweet and serene as a spring morning when it dawns upon the blooming +valleys, announcing a fair and delightful day. + +Cornelia had never in her life known what it is to experience trouble +and anxiety, for her youth had been all brightness and sunshine. But +such freedom from all trials does not generally continue for a long time +uninterrupted. And so it was with Cornelia. She was one day very much +delighted at being shown a little brother with which her mother had +presented her, but her joy was soon clouded by the severe illness of +that mother. She lay many long days without noticing or appearing to +know her little Cornelia, for her fever was strong, and her senses were +continually wandering. + +Cornelia was almost heart-broken at this, and they could scarcely +persuade her to leave the bedside of her dear mother, for a single +moment. She would entreat and implore until she won their consent that +she should remain in the sick room; and then all night long would the +affectionate little girl watch by her mother's bed, and attentively +study her every want, wetting her parched lips and moving around her +with the lightest and most anxious footsteps. + +On the seventh day of her sickness the fever approached its crisis and +there was deep silence in the little chamber, and stifled weeping, for +every one thought that death was near. + +But with the night came long absent slumber, and revived the almost +dying mother, and seemed to give her back to life. What a season for +Cornelia! Through the whole night she sat by the bed listening to her +now soft and regular breathing, while hope and fear were struggling +together in her bosom. When daylight appeared the mother opened her +eyes, and turning them upon the anxious Cornelia, knew her. "I am +better, my child," said she in a clear, but feeble voice, "I am better, +and shall get well!" They then gave her drink and nourishment, and she +went to sleep again. + +What joy was this for the affectionate little girl! Her heart was too +full for utterance, and she stole softly out of the chamber, and skipped +out into the field, and ascended a hill near by, just as the sun was +dawning. Here she stood her hands clasped together, and her bosom +swelling with many contending emotions of pain and hope. Presently the +sun arose and streamed over her face, and Cornelia thought of the new +life of her mother after her reviving sleep, and the anguish of her own +feelings. But she could not long shut up the flood of feeling within her +own heart, and she knelt down upon blooming flowers with which the hill +was covered, and bowing her face to the fragrant sod, her tears were +mingled with the dew of heaven. + +After a few minutes silence, she lifted up her head, and rising from the +ground, returned to her home, and the chamber of her mother. Never +before had there been so sweet and calm a loveliness on the face of +Cornelia. It was a reflection of the peace and tranquility of her soul, +for she had held communion with her God! + + + + +FORGIVENESS. + + +A friend with whom I was conversing a few weeks since, told me of a +beautiful example of this Christian grace, even in a little child. It +has often dwelt in my memory since, and perhaps some of my little +readers may be induced to cultivate the same spirit, if I repeat it to +them. + +Little Sarah was a sweet child of six summers. Gentle and affectionate +in disposition, she soon won a large portion of that love which few +hearts can withhold from the happy spirit of infancy. It has been +said, "Childhood is ever lovely," and I would add, childhood is ever +loved. Sarah was an attentive and careful reader of the word of God, at +a very early age. There it was that she found the Divine promise, +"Forgive, and thou shalt be forgiven." And she not only read this +precept, but showed by her life of gentle forgiveness, that she had +engraven it upon her heart. + +[Illustration] + +She attended a small school which was kept near her home; and I am sorry +that all who were her schoolmates had not the same kind spirit. There +were some who were very rude and unkind and Sarah soon found many +trials to encounter. Often would the gentle child return to her sweet +home in tears to forget her sorrow in a mother's love. Yet every harsh +and ungentle tone was forgiven by her, for she knew that forgiveness was +of Heaven. + +One day when her mother had given her some plums she observed that Sarah +did not eat them, but put them all into her little workbag to carry them +to school. + +"Why do you do so?" said she; "you do not eat the plums which I have +given you." + +"No, mother," said Sarah "I will carry them to the little children who +do not love me. Perhaps they will love me better if I am kind to them." + +Here was the true secret of human love. The power of kindness--there is +none other that will reach every heart. There is none other that can +influence them for good. It can lead the sinner from his evil way, for +none are too sinful to love, and where love is, there is power. We are +all frail and erring beings, whose hourly prayer should be for pardon, +and shall we not forgive? + + + + +THE GUILTY CONSCIENCE. + + +A mother one day returned home very sorrowful, and lamented bitterly to +her husband that she had heard that one of their sons had beaten a poor +child. + +"This," said she, "must have certainly been done by our naughty Caspar, +but he will deny it if I put the question to him." + +"I will answer for it," said the prudent father, "that I will put the +question to him in a way in which he cannot answer with a lie; and +thereby come at the truth." + +They soon after went to the supper table, and Caspar was very still and +quiet: he ate little, and spoke still less. He seldom looked at his +parents, who were very grave and serious, and then only with stolen +glances. + +The sons soon after went to bed.--They all slept in separate beds, but +in the same room. + +About half an hour after, when they were gone to sleep, their father +entered the chamber, and took pains to make a great noise in shutting +the door. Caspar instantly sprang out of bed, and full of fear cried +out, "What is it? What is the matter?" + +"Nothing," answered the father, "I was only wishing to see who among you +was asleep." The two other brothers were sleeping softly and sweetly, +and did not awake until they were aroused by Caspar's cry. The father +then went out again. + +The next day the father called Caspar to him, and, before his mother and +all the children, said to him, "You beat a poor child, yesterday, did +you?" Caspar, who thought that it had all come out, began to excuse +himself.--"He struck me too, and--" His father would not suffer him to +proceed any farther. "Caspar!" said he "why do you make us so much +trouble and sorrow? Yesterday, we heard that one of our sons had beaten +a poor child, but we did not then know who had done it. But when I saw +you eating in so much fear and trouble, and still more, when you could +not sleep from uneasiness and your _guilty conscience_ drove you from +your bed as soon as I opened the door, I was convinced that you were the +guilty one. See, how miserable wickedness can make us. You have been +sufficiently punished by your anxiety and fear, but you must now +endeavor to do some good to the poor child, and make atonement for your +faults. What will you do?" + +Caspar acknowledged his fault, and promised to do every thing that his +father commanded him. + +He who does wrong is always sure to repent of it, for he is punished by +his own conscience, if in no other way. + + + + +ACORN HOLLOW. + + +"Oh, Aunt Elissa! stay with us and spend the evening, why can't you!" +exclaimed Janie, Nelly, and Thanny, as the before-mentioned aunt entered +their cheerful little parlor one evening, after being absent some time. + +"Stay and spend the evening! Bless your dear souls! no. Haven't I got to +go to the post office, and besides that, a hundred and one other errands +to do?" + +"Never mind the post office, Aunt Lissa. Where's my hat? I'll run there +and back again in two minutes, and that will save you the trouble of +going. And never mind the errands either; you can come over in the +morning and do them; besides that we don't like to have our aunt going +about these dark evenings--she might get lost, or something might catch +her and carry her off, and then--" + +"What then?" + +"Why she wouldn't tell us any more stories." + +"Away with you, you selfish things! that's as much as you care for me. +Now I'll go right home." + +"Oh don't, don't! Run Thanny and shut the door, while I hold her, and +Nelly unties her bonnet. I don't care if she does scold." + +"Go away! you wild birds. Haven't you been taught any better manners +than this? Strange your mother will let you act so! but there she sits, +sewing away as busily as ever, only looking up now and then, to smile, +as if she didn't care at all. Fie! for shame! There goes my bonnet and +shawl. Now Nelly, if you hide them, I'll never go over the hills with +you again. I have a great mind not to speak a word to one of you." + +"Oh don't stop talking, for we want you to tell us a story." "A story! +why dear children, I can't begin with the first thought of a story +to-night; I feel so stupid and dull that it will be quite as much as I +can do to keep myself awake." + +"Oh well, then we will have a dance, and that will wake you up. Here! +Away we go!" + +"Stop! stop you merry elves! Oh my foot! Oh my hand! I would rather tell +you all the stories in the Arabian Nights, than go through one such +dance as this. Sit down now and be quiet, for if I have really got it to +do, I want to begin as soon as possible. Well, what shall I tell you +about, Janie?" + +"Oh, anything you please." + +[Illustration] + +"There, now, that isn't any sort of an answer at all. What shall I tell +you about, Thanny?" + +"Oh, tell us about a sailor boy, who wore a tarpaulin hat and a blue +jacket with a collar to it--and how he went to sea, and got shipwrecked +on an uninhabited, desert island, and _almost_ got drowned, but didn't +quite--and then, after a great many years, he came home one snow-stormy +night, and knocked at the door, with a bag full of dollars and a bunch +of cocoa nuts, and his old father and mother almost died of joy to see +him." + +"Well done! But now that you know the whole of the story, it wont be of +any use for me to tell it over again. What shall I tell you about, +Nelly?" + +"Tell us about something you used to do when you was a little girl." + +"When I was a little girl? Ah yes: do you know that I used to be a wild +and careless creature, and did many things which I am sorry for now? I +would often act upon the impulse of the moment, therefore I said many +vain and foolish words, and though I did not intend evil, yet I often +committed thoughtless acts, which were, in themselves, very wrong. I did +not restrain that spirit as I ought to, so it grew upon me, until it +almost became a part of my nature, and now that I have grown up to be a +woman, and people expect better things of me--a word, a thought, or look +will call forth those feelings once more, even at times of the most +serious reflection; and then many call me light-minded and trifling. I +do not blame them, but in my heart I do not feel so. Take care of +yourselves in time, that you may not have these sorrowful fruits to +repent of. But I do not mean to preach you a sermon, instead of telling +a story. And now that you have reminded me of my earlier days, I will +tell you about a place called Acorn Hollow, for of all the spots that I +love to remember, this is one of the dearest to me." + +"Where is it, Aunt Lissa?" + +"It is about two miles from your grandfather's house, in the woods, at +the south part of the town. I have visited it at all times and seasons +of the year, but the first time I ever saw it was in the dead of +winter." + +"Why, how happened that?" + +"It was the 22d of December--the anniversary of the landing of the +Pilgrims, and there was to be a grand entertainment in the evening, to +which my older sisters were invited. They wanted some of the curly +ground pine, which keeps green all winter, to put with the flowers they +wore in their hair; and as brother Alfred was always famous for knowing +the whereabouts of all strange plants and wild flowers, he promised to +get them some. In the afternoon, Freddy Lucas, his friend and almost +constant companion, came, and as it was an uncommonly mild and pleasant +day for that season of the year, they asked me to go with them. I was +right glad to do so, and after adding one more to our party, Susan +Edwards, a dark-eyed, merry-hearted girl, we were soon scampering away +over the hills. There had been some very heavy rains, by which the sand +had been washed away from the hill-side, leaving deep and wide furrows +at the foot, which required all our skill to jump over, but we +determined not to be outdone by Alfred, who acted as pioneer; so we +continued to follow our leader, with many a laugh and tumble, until it +seemed we were going a great way, to get nowhere. + +"At length we came to a little pond, far down among the hills, with +shrubs and rushes growing all around and into it. Alfred said this was +Turtle pond, where the boys often came Saturday afternoons to roast +potatoes and apples, and have a real frolic. He said, too, it would do +one's heart good to look upon these hills in the early spring time, for +then they were fairly blushing with the beautiful May flowers, which the +boys and girls who are working for the anti-slavery cause, take so much +pains to gather, and send to the Boston market. I asked him if this was +Acorn Hollow. 'Oh no,' said he, 'we must go through this pasture, and +the next one beyond it; then we shall see a cedar tree growing by the +fence, and soon we shall come to a place where two roads go round a +hill, and then we shall be close by there.' + +"So we went, and went, till he stopped suddenly, and said, 'here it is.' +And sure enough, there was the beautiful hollow, close by the road-side. +The sides were so steep that it was by no means safe to run down into +it, and the great oak trees and the small ones, with the pine, the +walnut, and the silvery birch, grew thick and close all around, save +that one small opening from the road, a little archway among the +overhanging boughs and dwarf alders. + +"Just below this opening there was one of the most lordly looking oak +trees that I ever saw. It was taller than any of the other trees, and +the trunk was so large, that when two of us children stood, one on each +side, and reached our arms around it we could only touch the tips of +each other's fingers. We had to hurry and get our ground pine, for the +days were very short, and it grew dark fast There was plenty of it +growing under the trees with another strange-looking evergreen, which +ran close to the ground, in long vines with little soft narrow leaves, +which felt like fur. The boys called it bear's grass. I don't think +that was the right name, but I never knew any other. After we had +trimmed up our caps and bonnets with the early leaves of pine, and made +ourselves tippets of the bear's grass, we hastened back again; but the +stars were in the sky, and the Gurnet lights were beaming brightly over +the waters, long before we reached our homes. + +"After this we went there a great many times, for we were fond of +rambling in the woods, and almost everything which is usually found on +hilltop or valley, seemed to grow there. There were May flowers, violets +and anemonies, in spring time; box, whortle, and black berries, in +summer, and acorns and walnuts in autumn. + +"One fourth of July, when soldiers were marching about the streets--boys +were firing crackers--dogs barking, and every body seemed just ready to +run crazy, Alfred, and Charlie, who was but a 'wee bit' of a boy, then, +with sister Una and myself, determined to make our escape from this +scene of confusion. We took a little basket of provision, with a hatchet +and a jug of water, and started for our favorite hollow. Often, in the +long winter evenings, we brothers and sisters would sit round the fire, +and tell what we would do when we grew up to be men and women. But there +was one thing which we always agreed upon, and it was this: that we +would all live together, in a little cottage in the woods, where we +could have plenty of room to move about in, and do just as we pleased. +Now we thought we had dreamed of this long enough and we determined to +have a little of the reality; so, as soon as we reached the hollow, we +began to build a bower with the branches which we cut from the trees +with our hatchet. We worked away very busily, for a long time, toiling +and sweating, yet all the time feeling never so happy. Oh, I do wish +that all you children, and a great many more beside, could have been +there with us, to see what a nice, pretty place it was, when it was +finished. Hiram of Tyre, in his stately palace of cedar, fir, and algum +wood, could not have felt prouder or happier than we did, in our little +sylvan bower. + +"We spread a shawl on the ground, and laid our provisions upon it. Here +we sat and sung, and told stories, till we saw a great dark shadow +coming down the hill-side; and what do you suppose it was, Thanny?" +"Well I don't know, unless it was a great black bear, coming down to get +some of his grass for supper." + +"Oh fie! No. What do you think it was, Nelly?" + +"Wasn't it old Pan and Sylvanus, who were astonished to hear such a +noise in their woods?" + +"No, you haven't got it right either. What do you say, Janie?" + +"Well, I guess it was the shadows of evening, coming down the +hill-side." + +"That's it--and we were very much surprised to find it so, for the time +had passed very quickly and pleasantly. We gathered up our things, and +started for home. But first we stopped under the old acorn-tree, and +sung 'a song to the oak, the brave old oak.' We didn't know the right +tune, and so we sung it to the air of 'there is nae luck about the +house.' It wasn't the music we cared so much about, as the beautiful +words, they were so pretty and appropriate. + +"Well, we did not go into the woods much, after this, for we had a great +many other things to take up our minds. Charlie and I went to school, +and father needed Alfred to help him all the time. + +"I have told you how we found the hollow and how much we enjoyed +ourselves there; now I will tell you what became of it." + +"What became of it! Why! did it catch afire and burn up?" + +"No." + +"Did it blow away in a strong north wind?" + +"No." + +"Did it get filled up with dust and dry leaves, or did you forget the +way there, and never find it again? What _did_ become of it?" + +"Well, let me tell you. It was one of those beautiful spring days--when +we feel that we cannot possibly stay at home, and our feet will run +away with us, in spite of ourselves--that the old spirit and desire for +rambling came over us once more, and away we started for the woods. +'Which way will you go?' said Alfred as we stopped at a place where two +roads led in different directions. 'Acorn Hollow,' was the answer of +all; and accordingly we went that way. But oh, wonder of wonders! How we +stood by the once loved spot, and stared at each other, and rubbed our +eyes, and looked again and again. Where were the beautiful trees that +grew so closely side by side, intermingling their foliage, and locking +their arms together like loving brothers and sisters? Where was the +'brave old oak,' that had stood there with his broad green arms +outstretched, and shook his myriad leaves whenever we came, as if he +loved us children, and welcomed us to a resting-place in his shadow. And +where was the soft green carpet of moss and tender grass that was spread +out so beautifully at the bottom of the hollow? It was all changed, as +if the breath of an evil spirit had blown upon it. 'Isn't it too bad!' +we all exclaimed; and after we had given expression to our feelings by +these few words, we proceeded to a closer examination. All the trees +along the hill-side had been cut down, and little piles of wood were put +up, to carry away. The May flowers were all dried up in the sun, and the +ground pine and bear's grass were as sere and yellow as the autumn +leaves. Down in the bottom of the hollow, the turf had been cut up and +carried off, and there lay the bones of an old horse bleaching in the +sun. There was only a little stump left of the acorn tree, with a few +withered branches. 'Isn't it a sin, and a shame!' said Alfred, +indignantly. 'I never want to come here again,' murmured Charlie; and I +sat down on the stump and cried. If all the world had been looking at me +I couldn't have helped it. + +"Then I thought how strangely everything was changing around me. Nothing +appeared the same to me, save the sun and stars and the broad blue sea. +Father and mother, brothers and sisters, and the great world itself, +were all changing. I too was changed. Time and study, with daily trial, +were making me an altogether different being from what I had been, and I +knew that the finger of the Almighty was writing lessons upon my heart, +which I could never forget; no, not through all eternity. I wept; and +then a truth--a great and a good one--rose in my heart, like the morning +star, for I knew, at that moment, that all these changes were but the +lessons which the angel teachers are giving us, to fit us for higher +duties in the world to come. The memory of that beautiful spot is as +fresh and fair in my heart as ever, and the lesson which I learned there +has had a blessed influence upon my life; for now, when I feel sad and +disheartened, I strive to keep my eye fixed on the great point to which +we all tend, forgetting the little sorrows that lie between. And I hear +the calm sweet voice of him who died on Calvary, saying, 'fear not; I am +thy friend and brother. I too have dwelt in the flesh and know its +conflicts and trials; trust in me, for I am the same, yesterday, to-day, +and forever.' + +"Hark! don't I hear the clock strike?--eight, nine, ten. O, naughty +children! when I only came in here to stop ten minutes; and now you have +kept me here till ten o'clock! Only think how dark it is, and what a +long way over to the green. I guess you will be sorry, if you should +hear, in the morning, that I had walked off the bridge into the +mill-brook, or fallen into the cistern on the Green." + +"Oh aunt Lissa! as if there wasn't any fence to the bridge, and a cover +on the cistern, with a stone on it. You needn't try to frighten us in +that way." + +"Well then, let me go, lest grandmother should feel frightened; but +first you must pay me for telling you a story." + +"Well, how much do you ask?" + +"Oh, not much; only a kiss from each of you." + +"That you may have and welcome, and as many as you please." + +"Good night." + + + + +INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. + + +The necessity of cultivating industrious habits in early youth was never +more fully exemplified than in the case of two girls, daughters of the +same mother, who were born in a village about forty miles from the city +of Boston. + +[Illustration] + +Mary and Sophia had the advantage of a mother who was herself full of +enterprise and energy, and who having been left a widow, and knowing +that the success of her children depended mainly on their own +conduct, strove to bring them up to habits of industry. Sophia, the +younger of the two sisters, inherited much of her mother's tact and +vivacity. When the elder persons of the family were engaged in any +domestic employment, she delighted to watch their movements; and they, +being pleased with this mark of early promise, never failed to instruct +her in the duties of a housewife. She learned rapidly under their +tuition, and as she never thought she knew too much to learn, she +thrived greatly; so that when she became old enough to be married, she +was fully acquainted with all the branches of domestic business. She +knew what implements to use, and she had a dexterous way of using them, +which not only helped to forward the business of the day, but also gave +much pleasure to those persons who saw with what grace and ease she +performed her labor. She married a worthy young man, who never ceased to +admire her, because his house was always in order, his meals were on the +table at the exact hour, and her dress was always arranged with a regard +to neatness and to beauty, and the most perfect cleanliness reigned from +one end of the house to the other. + +With regard to her sister Mary, I regret that I have too much reason to +speak otherwise. Although Mary knew very well that her fortune, for good +or for evil, depended wholly upon herself, yet she thought it +unnecessary to take any pains to acquire industrious habits, or to learn +the business of housekeeping. While she was yet a very little girl, she +was obstinate and self-willed, and thought herself too good to work, or +to learn any useful art. While the rest of the family were engaged in +necessary labor, she was amusing herself; and if called upon to do the +least thing, she complained bitterly as if some great injury had been +done to her. She thought it very much beneath her to learn to sew or to +make bread, or to milk one of the cows, and could talk half an hour and +make very fine excuses in order to get rid of any such little exercise. +When she was twelve years old, she supposed that she was born to be a +lady, and she took this notion into her head, merely because she did not +know how to do a single useful thing. If her mother or sisters said +anything to her about her dress, which was never put on as it should be, +or about her hair, which was never done up neatly, she flouted at them +with disdain, and said that clothes did not make the woman; which was +very true of itself, but nevertheless, neatness in dress is always +required to make a respectable woman. One may be ever so poor and may +have ever so little clothing, but one can always tell by a girl's +appearance, what is to be laid to the account of poverty, and what is to +be laid to the account of sluttishness. + +Mary grew up in this way, and as she did not improve herself by useful +occupation, she found other employments which did her no good. She read +every foolish and extravagant story and novel which give false ideas of +life, and which poison the mind by unreasonable views of love and of +married life. She now thought that she was becoming very accomplished, +but no young man who knew her history desired to unite himself with such +a partner. At last, however, a stranger who entirely misapprehended her +character offered her his hand, and she professed to love him very much. +But her professions were all frothy and vain; for she had read so many +extravagant fictions, and knew so little of real life, that she did not +know her own mind, and supposed that she was very much in love, when +she did not even know how to form a serious attachment. The man whom she +married was very respectable and well disposed, and if he had married a +smart and industrious woman would have succeeded well in the world. But +Mary had never been either smart or industrious, and she seemed to +suppose that now she was married there was no necessity for doing +anything. When her husband complained that it was hard to live, she only +smiled, and said that she knew if she were a man she could get along +well enough, and that every man ought to expect, as a matter of course, +to support his family. Such talk as this did not comfort him, as he was +daily laboring very hard to maintain his family, for his wife had one +daughter, and he thought that his companion ought to take an interest in +his misfortunes. But she had no regard for the cares and troubles of her +husband. She thought that it was bad enough for her to be debarred from +riding in a coach, and putting on rich clothing, and she often +complained that she could not lead the life of a lady. As their family +increased, her husband found that she possessed no tact at all. He would +have hired a housekeeper had he been able, in order that his wife might +lounge about and read novels all day: he would also have employed some +person to dress her, as her clothing was always put on in so negligent a +manner that he was ashamed to invite a friend to his house. But Mary +imagined that she had a very hard time, because she could not be a lady, +and she associated with some idle, gossipping women, who encouraged her +to find fault with her husband, because he could not put her into a +palace. Her husband never could have his meals ready betimes, and when +he went home to his dinner, the breakfast dishes were found still +unwashed upon the table. Mary's children were pretty and healthy, but +having been always allowed to go dirty and ragged, they were treated +with contempt by all decent children. These things wore upon her +husband's mind more and more, until he left his family in despair, and +never returned to them again. Mary is now in the poor house; for, being +too idle to work, and never having learned how to support herself, it +could not be expected that she should provide honestly for her family. +Nobody pities her, and there are many who ask her how she likes being a +lady, and who joke her about riding in her coach. Such is the fatal +effect of forming idle habits early in life. + + + + +ENVY. + + +I once knew two little girls who attended the same school and occupied +the same bench, yet who were entirely unlike each other in disposition, +so that while Martha was beloved by all who knew her, Mary was as +generally disliked. Martha was gentle, kind and affectionate; but Mary +was of a very different spirit Her chief fault was _envy_, and so much +did she indulge this base passion that she was unhappy whenever she +heard one of her little school-mates praised. She was very unkind to +Martha, for she envied her the ease with which her lessons were +committed to memory, and more than all else she envied her the love of +her kind teacher. Therefore she wished to injure Martha, and to take +away that love. + +One day Mary, being, according to her usual custom, idle, amused herself +with tearing and defacing her books. After spending some time in this +manner, she took them to her teacher, and with many loud complaints, +told her that Martha had thus injured them. She hoped that Martha would +have been punished, and that her school-mates would not love her so +well, but would believe that she had done so wrong an action. + +But it was not so. The teacher did not believe Mary's complaint, and +when Martha said she was innocent, she knew that it was so, for truth +was in her heart. Then one of the little girls said that she had seen +Mary herself injuring the books, and the wicked child was defeated in +the plan that she had formed. + +After this, none of the children would talk or play with Mary, and she +soon left the school. None regretted her absence, for all said, "What a +pity that so sweet a name should be accompanied by so ungentle a +spirit." + +Now this little girl had many faults, but I think that the one wherein +she most erred was envy. We have seen how this fault led her to commit +many sins. It led her to unkindness, falsehood, and disgrace. And +however trivial the circumstance I have related may appear, yet it early +stamped upon my mind a lesson which after years have not effaced. May it +bear to some young hearts the same lesson--_beware of envy_. + + + + +CONCLUSION. + + +And now, my dear readers, we have come to the last page in this little +volume; and that its precepts may abide in all your hearts, is the +sincere desire of your friend, + +UNCLE HUMPHREY. + +[Illustration] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11129 *** |