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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wreaths of Friendship, by T. S. Arthur and F.
+C. Woodworth
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Wreaths of Friendship
+       A Gift for the Young
+
+
+Author: T. S. Arthur and F. C. Woodworth
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 15, 2005  [eBook #16073]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Rudy Ketterer, Jason Isbell, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) from page
+images generously made available by Internet Archive and the University of
+Florida
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/0/7/16073/16073-h.zip)
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Florida
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+      PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and
+      British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See
+      http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=jpg
+      or
+      http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=pdf
+
+
+
+
+
+WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP:
+
+A Gift for the Young
+
+by
+
+T. S. ARTHUR and F. C. WOODWORTH
+
+New York:
+Charles Scribner,
+36 Park Row, And 145 Nassau St.
+Stereotyped by Baker & Palmer
+11 Spruce Street.
+
+1851
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Wreaths of Friendship]
+
+
+[Illustration: TOKENS OF AFFECTION. (See Page 207.)]
+
+
+
+
+
+Preface.
+
+
+Young friends--stop a moment. We have set up a sort of turnpike gate
+here, as you see, between the title-page and the first story in our
+book, in the shape of a preface, or introduction. "What! do you mean to
+take toll of us, then?" Why, no--not exactly. But we want to say half a
+dozen words to you, as you pass along, and to tell you a little about
+these WREATHS which we have been twining for our friends. So you need
+not be in quite so great a hurry. Wait a minute.
+
+You have no doubt noticed that it is a very common thing for an author
+to take up several of the first pages of his book with apologies to his
+readers. First, perhaps, he apologizes for writing at all; and secondly,
+for writing so poorly--just as if it was a crime to make a book, for
+which crime the author must get down on his knees, and humbly beg the
+public's pardon. We think we shall not take this course, on the whole,
+for this reason, if for no other--that we do not feel very guilty about
+what we have done. But as the plan of our book is somewhat new, we have
+been thinking it would be well enough, in introducing it to you, at
+least to tell how we came to make it.
+
+We have both of us published a good deal, in one way and another, for
+young people; and we got a notion--a very pleasant one, certainly, and
+rather natural, withal, whether well founded or not--that among that
+class of the public composed of boys and girls, we had a pretty
+respectable number of friends. Under this impression, we put our heads
+together, one day, and made up our minds to invite these friends of
+ours, every one of them, to a kind of festival, and that we would share
+equally in the pleasure of giving the entertainment. The book, reader,
+which we have named WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP, as perhaps you have already
+guessed, grew out of that plan of ours.
+
+We have not, as you will perceive, indicated the authorship of the tales
+and sketches, as they appear; and those readers who have any curiosity
+in this matter, are referred to the index.
+
+We hope the volume will please you. More than this: we hope it will
+prove to be useful--useful for the future as well as for the present
+life; and, indeed, if it had not been for this hope, much as we love to
+entertain our young friends, these Wreaths would never have been twined
+by our hands.
+
+We have little else to add, except the fondest wishes of our hearts;
+and, to tell the truth, it was to express to you these kind wishes--to
+give you something like a hearty shake of the hand--rather than because
+we had any thing of importance to say in our preface, that we stopped
+you at the outset.
+
+                                                            THE AUTHORS.
+
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+                                                      Authors.  Page.
+
+  What shall we Build?                                 T.S.A.     13
+  The Two Cousins                                      F.C.W.     16
+  A Noble Act                                          T.S.A.     28
+  The Word of God                                      T.S.A.     35
+  Harsh Words and Kind Words                           T.S.A.     36
+  The Herons and the Herrings                          F.C.W.     41
+  Early Spring Flowers                                 F.C.W.     43
+  Temptation Resisted                                  T.S.A.     51
+  Evening Prayer                                       T.S.A.     61
+  Stretching the Truth                                 F.C.W.     63
+  The City Pigeon                                      T.S.A.     67
+  A Day in the Woods                                   T.S.A.     72
+  The Spider and the Honey Bee                         F.C.W.     81
+  Emma Lee and her Sixpence                            T.S.A.     88
+  Uncle Roderick's Stories                             F.C.W.     93
+  Honesty the Best Policy                              F.C.W.     94
+  How a Rogue Feels when he is Caught                  F.C.W.     97
+  The Weekly Newspaper                                 F.C.W.    100
+  The Cider Plot                                       F.C.W.    103
+  My First Hunting Excursion                           F.C.W.    107
+  Saturday in Winter                                   T.S.A.    111
+  Rover and his Little Master                          T.S.A.    113
+  Something Wrong                                      T.S.A.    117
+  The Favorite Child                                   F.C.W.    121
+  The Mine                                             T.S.A.    129
+  The Miner                                            T.S.A.    132
+  Visit to Fairy Land                                  F.C.W.    135
+  The Hermit                                           T.S.A.    143
+  A Picture                                            T.S.A.    147
+  The Boy and the Robin                                F.C.W.    150
+  Something about Conscience                           F.C.W.    152
+  Old Ned                                              T.S.A.    166
+  The Freed Butterfly                                  T.S.A.    175
+  Julia and Her Birds                                  F.C.W.    177
+  The Song of the Snow Bird                            T.S.A.    185
+  How to Avoid a Quarrel                               T.S.A.    189
+  Passing for More than One is Worth                   F.C.W.    197
+  The Lament of the Invalid                            F.C.W.    205
+  The Use of Flowers                                   T.S.A.    207
+  Sliding Down Hill                                    F.C.W.    211
+  A Garden Overrun with Weeds                          T.S.A.    217
+  Disappointment Sometimes a Blessing                  F.C.W.    221
+  The Old Man at the Cottage Door                      T.S.A.    232
+  Story of a Stolen Pen                                F.C.W.    234
+
+
+
+
+
+                               WREATHS.
+                         WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?
+
+
+Four children were playing on the sea-shore. They had gathered bright
+pebbles and beautiful shells, and written their names in the pure, white
+sand; but at last, tired of their sport, they were about going home, when
+one of them, as they came to a pile of stones, cried out:
+
+"Oh! let us build a fort; and we will call that ship away out there, an
+enemy's vessel, and make believe we are firing great cannon balls into
+her!"
+
+"Yes, yes! let us build a fort," responded Edward, the other lad.
+
+And the two boys--for two were boys and two girls--ran off to the pile of
+stones, and began removing them to a place near the water.
+
+"Come, Anna and Jane," said they, "come and help us."
+
+"Oh, no. Don't let us build a fort," said Jane.
+
+[Illustration: WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?]
+
+"Yes; we will build a fort," returned the boys. "What else can we build?
+You wouldn't put a house down here upon the water's edge?"
+
+"No; but I'll tell you what we can build, and it will be a great deal
+better than a fort."
+
+"Well; what can we build?"
+
+"A light-house," said the girls; "and that will be just as much in place on
+the edge of the sea as a fort. We can call the ship yonder a vessel lost in
+the darkness, and we will hang out a light and direct her in the true way.
+Won't that be much better than to call her an enemy, and build a fort to
+destroy her? See how beautifully she sits upon and glides over the smooth
+water! Her sails are like the open wings of a bird, and they bear her
+gracefully along. Would it not be cruel to shoot great balls into her
+sides, tear her sails to pieces, and kill the men who are on board of her?
+Oh! I am sure it would make us all happier to save her when in darkness and
+danger. No, no; let us not build a fort, but a light-house; for it is
+better to save than to destroy."
+
+The girls spoke with tenderness and enthusiasm, and their words reached the
+better feelings of their companions.
+
+"Oh, yes," said they; "we will build a light-house, and not a fort." And
+they did so.
+
+Yes, it is much better to save than to destroy. Think of that, children,
+and let it go with you through life. Be more earnest to save your friends
+than to destroy your enemies. And yet, when a real enemy comes, and seeks
+to do evil, be brave to resist him.
+
+
+
+
+                            THE TWO COUSINS;
+                 OR, HOW TO ACT WHEN "THINGS GO WRONG."
+
+
+"There, mother, I knew it would be so. Lucy Wallace has just sent over to
+tell me she can't walk out in the woods with me. There's no use in my
+trying to please any body--there's no use in it. I'm an odd sort of a
+creature, it seems. Nobody loves me. It always was so. Oh, dear! I wish I
+knew what I had done to make the girls hate me so!"
+
+This not very good-natured speech was made by a little girl, whom I shall
+call Angeline Standish. She was some ten or twelve years old, as near as I
+can recollect. Perhaps my readers would like to know something about the
+occasion which called for this speech; but it is a long story, and hardly
+worth telling. The truth is, when little boys and girls get very angry, or
+peevish, or fretful, they sometimes blow out a great deal of ill-humor,
+something after the manner that an overcharged steam boiler lets off
+steam--with this difference, however, that the steam boiler gets cooler by
+the operation, while the boy or girl gets more heated. The throat is a poor
+safety-valve for ill-humor; and it is bad business, this setting the tongue
+agoing at such a rate, whenever the mercury in one's temper begins to rise
+toward the boiling point.
+
+As is usual, in such cases, Angeline felt worse after these words had
+whistled through the escape pipe of her ill-nature, than she did before;
+and, for want of something else to do, she commenced crying. She was not
+angry--that is, not altogether so--though the spirit she showed was a
+pretty good imitation of anger, it must be confessed. She was peevish.
+Matters had not gone right with her that day. She was crossed in this thing
+and that thing. Her new hat had not come home from the milliner's, as she
+expected; one of her frocks had just got badly torn; she had a hard lesson
+to learn; and I cannot repeat the whole catalogue of her miseries. So she
+fretted, and stormed, and cried, and felt just as badly as she chose.
+
+Not long after the crying spell was over, and there was a little blue sky
+in sight, Jeannette Forrest, a cousin of Angeline's, came running into the
+room, her face all lighted up with smiles, and threw her arms around her
+cousin's neck, and kissed her. This was no uncommon thing with Jeannette.
+She had a very happy and a very affectionate disposition. Every body loved
+her, and she loved every body.
+
+One not acquainted with Angeline, might very naturally suppose that she
+would return her cousin's embrace. But she did no such thing. Her manner
+was quite cool and distant. Human nature is a strange compound, is it not?
+
+"Why, cousin," said the light-hearted Jeannette, "what is the matter? You
+are not well, are you?"
+
+"Yes, well enough," the other replied, rather crustily. Take care,
+Angeline, there's a cloud coming over your cousin's face. Speak a kind word
+or two, now. Then the sun will beam out again, brightly as ever. Jeannette
+was silent for a moment, for she was astonished, and did not know what to
+make of her cousin's manner. It would have appeared uncivil and rude to
+most little girls. But the sweet spirit of Jeannette--loving, hoping,
+trusting--was differently affected. She saw only the brighter side of the
+picture. So the bee, as she flies merrily from flower to flower, finds a
+store of honey where others would find only poison.
+
+"Dear Angeline," said her cousin, at length, "I'm sure something is the
+matter. Tell me what it is, won't you? Oh, I should love to make you happy,
+if I only knew how!"
+
+Angeline seemed scarcely to hear these words of love. That is strange
+enough, I hear you say. So it is, perhaps, and it may be stranger still,
+that she read not the language of love and sympathy that was written so
+plainly in her cousin's countenance. It is true, though, for all that. She
+did not say much of any thing to this inquiry--she simply muttered, between
+her teeth,
+
+"I don't believe any body loves me."
+
+Jeannette was no philosopher. She could not read essays nor preach sermons.
+Her argument to convince her cousin that there was, at least, one who loved
+her, was drawn from the heart, rather than from the head. It was very
+brief, and very much to the point. She burst into tears, and sobbed,
+
+"Don't say so, dear."
+
+Jeannette could not stay long. Her mother had sent her on an errand, and
+told her she must make haste back. Perhaps it was as well that she could
+not stay--and perhaps not. Human nature is a strange sort of compound, as I
+said before; and it may be that the ice which had covered over the streams
+leading from Angeline's heart would not have melted under the influence
+even of the warm sun that, for a moment or two, beamed upon them so kindly.
+For one, however, I should like to know what would have come out of that
+conversation, if it had been allowed to go on. Jeannette went home, and
+Angeline was again left to her own reflections, which were any thing but
+pleasant. It was Saturday afternoon; and, there being no school, she had
+hoped to be able to ramble in the woods with some of her little companions.
+But here she was disappointed, too, and this increased her peevishness;
+though the reason why she could not go was, because she did not learn her
+lesson in season, and that was her own fault. Toward night, when Mrs
+Standish had leisure to sit down to her sewing, she called Angeline, and
+reminded her of the ill-natured spirit she had shown in the early part of
+the afternoon. The child was rather ashamed of what she had said, it is
+true; but she tried to excuse her conduct.
+
+"Every thing went wrong to-day, mother," she said; "I couldn't help feeling
+so. Oh, dear! I don't see how any body can be good, when things go in this
+way--I mean any body but Jeannette. I wish I was like her. It is easy for
+her to be good."
+
+"Your cousin has, no doubt, a very different disposition from yours," said
+the mother. "But it is much easier for you to be always good-natured and
+happy than you suppose, Angeline."
+
+"I wish I knew how, mother."
+
+"Well, you say things went wrong with you this afternoon. I think I know
+what some of these things were. They were not so pleasant as they might
+have been, certainly. They were troublesome. But don't you think the
+greatest trouble of all was in your own heart?"
+
+"No, ma'am. I was well enough until the things began to go wrong; and then
+I felt bad, and I couldn't help it."
+
+Mrs Standish laughed, as she said, "So, then, as soon as the things begin
+to go wrong, you take the liberty to go wrong too. Every thing works well
+inside, until it is disturbed by something outside?"
+
+"That is it, mother."
+
+"And when the things inside go smoothly, because every thing is smooth
+outside, you have a very good and happy disposition?"
+
+"Pretty good, I think."
+
+"And so, when there is a hurricane inside, because the wind blows rather
+more than usual outside, you are cross, and unhappy, and bad enough to make
+up for being so good before?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I am afraid I am, sometimes."
+
+"No, my child, you are wrong, all wrong. If all was right inside, the other
+things you speak of would not disturb you so, if they should happen to go
+wrong."
+
+"Why, mother, wouldn't they disturb me at all?"
+
+"They might, occasionally, but not near as much. Do you remember that our
+clock went wrong last winter?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; we couldn't tell what time it was, and it used to strike all
+sorts of ways."
+
+"What do you suppose made the clock act so, Angeline? It goes well enough
+now, you know."
+
+"I believe Mr Mercer said one of the wheels was out of order."
+
+"That was all. It was not the weather--not because we forgot to wind it
+up--not because things did not go right in the room. Now, your mind is
+something like a clock. If it is kept in order, it will run pretty well, I
+guess--no matter whether it rains or shines--whether it is winter or
+summer. Milton says, very beautifully, in his poem called the 'Paradise
+Lost,'
+
+  "'The mind is its own place, and of itself
+  Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'
+
+"He means by this, that our happiness or unhappiness depends more upon what
+is within us than it does upon what is without. And he is right. Do you
+understand, my child?"
+
+"I understand what you mean, but it is not so easy to see how I am to go to
+work and be good all the time, like cousin Jeannette. I'm not like her,
+mother, and I never can be like her, I know."
+
+"True, you will always be very unlike your cousin. But I don't know of any
+thing to hinder your being as good and amiable as she is, for all that."
+
+"Oh, mother! I'd give every thing in the world, if I only knew how!"
+
+"I think you can learn, my child, with much less expense; though, to be
+sure, you will have to give up some things that perhaps you will find it
+hard to part with. You will be obliged to give up some of your bad habits."
+
+"That would be easy enough."
+
+"Not so easy as you think, it may be. It is a good deal easier to let a bad
+habit come in, than it is to turn one out. But 'where there's a will,
+there's a way,' you know."
+
+"Well, mother, what shall I do? I should like to begin pretty soon, for
+scarcely any body loves me now,"
+
+"Before you learn much, it might be well to unlearn a little. When any
+thing goes wrong, as you say, you must, at least, not make it go worse. You
+must not make every body around you unhappy, if you do feel a little cross
+and peevish."
+
+"Oh, mother, I can't speak pleasantly when I don't feel so."
+
+"Then, in most cases, you had better not speak at all."
+
+"I never thought of that. I can stop talking, if I try."
+
+"So you can, and you can do more. You can get into the habit of finding
+'the south or sunny side of things,' as Jean Paul says, and if you do, you
+will not be likely to have a snow-storm in your heart very often. Besides,
+you ought to remember, that all these disappointments and crosses are a
+part of your education for heaven, and you should endeavor to improve them
+as such, so that their good effect will not be lost. And another thing, my
+child: you ought to ask God to assist you in this self-government--to make
+you his child--to give you a new heart--to teach you to love Christ, and to
+be like him. Then you will seldom feel cross and fretful, because things go
+wrong. You will be cheerful and good-natured. You will make others
+happy--and you will very soon forget the old story, that nobody loves you."
+
+Now, many little boys and girls--possibly some who read this story--would
+have thought this task too hard. They would have regarded it as a pretty
+severe penance. Perhaps they would have concluded, after having put all
+these difficult things into one scale, and the thing to be gained by them
+into the other, that the reward was not worth so great a sacrifice. So
+thought not Angeline, however. She began the work in earnest, that very
+day. She went over to her uncle's, with an unusual amount of sunshine in
+her countenance, and made it all right with Jeannette. In the evening, she
+told her little brother James what she intended to do, and invited him to
+help her; and before they retired to rest that night, they knelt down
+together and offered up a prayer, that God, for Christ's sake, would help
+them in governing themselves.
+
+One day--perhaps some six weeks after this--Mrs Standish said, smilingly,
+to her daughter,
+
+"Well, my dear, does Lucy Wallace love you any better?"
+
+"Oh, mother," said Angeline, as a tear of joy stood in her eye, "every body
+loves me now!"
+
+
+
+
+                              A NOBLE ACT.
+
+
+"What have you there, boys?" asked Captain Bland.
+
+"A ship," replied one of the lads who were passing the captain's neat
+cottage.
+
+"A ship! Let me see;" and the captain took the little vessel, and examined
+it with as much fondness as a child does a pretty toy. "Very fair, indeed;
+who made it?"
+
+"I did," replied one of the boys.
+
+"You, indeed! Do you mean to be a sailor, Harry?"
+
+"I don't know. I want father to get me into the navy."
+
+"As a midshipman?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Captain Bland shook his head.
+
+"Better be a farmer, a physician, or a merchant."
+
+"Why so, captain?" asked Harry;
+
+"All these are engaged in the doing of things directly useful to society."
+
+"But I am sure, captain, that those who defend us against our enemies, and
+protect all who are engaged in commerce from wicked pirates, are doing what
+is useful to society."
+
+"Their use, my lad," replied Captain Bland, "is certainly a most important
+one; but we may call it rather negative than positive. The civilian is
+engaged in building up and sustaining society in doing good, through his
+active employment, to his fellow-man. But military and naval officers do
+not produce any thing; they only protect and defend."
+
+"But if they did not protect and defend, captain, evil men would destroy
+society. It would be of no use for the civilian to endeavor to build up, if
+there were none to fight against the enemies of the state."
+
+"Very true, my lad. The brave defender of his country cannot be dispensed
+with, and we give him all honor. Still, the use of defence and protection
+is not so high as the use of building up and sustaining. The thorn that
+wounds the hand stretched forth to pluck the flower, is not so much
+esteemed, nor of so much worth, as the blossom it was meant to guard.
+Still, the thorn performs a great use. Precisely a similar use does the
+soldier or naval officer perform to society; and it will be for you, my
+lad, to decide as to which position you would rather fill."
+
+"I never thought of that, captain," said one of the lads. "But I can see
+clearly how it is. And yet I think those men who risk their lives for us in
+war, deserve great honor. They leave their homes, and remain away,
+sometimes for years, deprived of all the comforts and blessings that
+civilians enjoy, suffering frequently great hardships, and risking their
+lives to defend their country from her enemies."
+
+"It is all as you say," replied Captain Bland; "and they do, indeed,
+deserve great honor. Their calling is one that exposes them to imminent
+peril, and requires them to make many sacrifices; and they encounter not
+this peril and sacrifice for their own good, but for the good of others.
+Their lives do not pass so evenly as do the lives of men who spend their
+days in the peaceful pursuits of business, art, or literature; and we could
+hardly wonder if they lost some of the gentler attributes of the human
+heart. In some cases, this is so; but in very many cases the reverse is
+true. We find the man who goes fearlessly into battle, and there, in
+defence of his country, deals death and destruction unsparingly upon her
+enemies, acting, when occasion offers, from the most humane sentiments, and
+jeopardizing his life to save the life of a single individual. Let me
+relate to you a true story in illustration of what I say.
+
+"When the unhappy war that has been waged by our troops in Mexico broke
+out, a lieutenant in the navy, who had a quiet berth at Washington, felt it
+to be his duty to go to the scene of strife, and therefore asked to be
+ordered to the Gulf of Mexico. His request was complied with, and he
+received orders to go on board the steamer Mississippi, Commodore Perry,
+then about to sail from Norfolk to Vera Cruz.
+
+"Soon after the Mississippi arrived out, and before the city and castle
+were taken, a terrible 'norther' sprung up, and destroyed much shipping in
+the harbor. One vessel, on which were a number of passengers, was thrown
+high upon a reef, and when morning broke, the heavy sea was making a clear
+breach through her. She lay about a mile from the Mississippi, and it soon
+became known on board the steamer, that a mother and her infant were in the
+wreck, and that unless succor came speedily, they would perish. The
+lieutenant of whom I speak, immediately ordered out a boat's crew, and
+although the sea was rolling tremendously, and the 'norther' still blowing
+a hurricane, started to the rescue. Right in the teeth of the wind were the
+men compelled to pull their boat, and so slowly did they progress, that it
+took over two hours to gain the wreck.
+
+"At one time, they actually gave out, and the oars lay inactive in their
+hands. At this crisis, the brave but humane officer, pointing with one hand
+to the fortress of San Juan de Ulloa, upon which a fire had already
+commenced, and with the other to the wreck, exclaimed, with noble
+enthusiasm,
+
+"'Pull away, men! I would rather save the life of that woman and her child,
+than have the honor of taking the castle!'
+
+"Struck by the noble, unselfish, and truly humane feelings of their
+officer, the crew bent with new vigor to their oars. In a little while the
+wreck was gained, and the brave lieutenant had the pleasure of receiving
+into his arms the almost inanimate form of the woman, who had been lashed
+to the deck, and over whom the waves had been beating, at intervals, all
+night.
+
+"In writing home to his friends, after the excitement of the adventure was
+over, the officer spoke of the moment when he rescued that mother and child
+from the wreck as the proudest of his life.
+
+"Afterward he took part in the bombardment of Vera Cruz, and had command,
+in turn, of the naval battery, where he faithfully and energetically
+performed his duty as an officer in the service of his country. He was
+among the first of those who entered the captured city; but pain, not
+pleasure, filled his mind, as he looked around, and saw death and
+destruction on every hand. Victory had perched upon our banners; the arms
+of our country had been successful; the officer had bravely contributed his
+part in the work; but he frankly owns that he experienced far more delight
+in saving the woman he had borne from the wreck, than he could have felt
+had he been the commander of the army that reduced the city.
+
+"Wherever duty calls, my lads," concluded the captain, "you will find that
+brave officer. He will never shrink from the post of danger, if his country
+have need of him; nor will he ever be deaf to the appeal of humanity; but
+so long as he is a true man, just so long will he delight more in saving
+than in destroying."
+
+
+
+
+
+                            THE WORD OF GOD.
+
+
+Henry, what book is that you have in your hand?"
+
+"It is the Bible, mother,"
+
+"Oh, no, it cannot be, surely!"
+
+"Why, yes it is--see!"
+
+"And my little boy to treat so roughly the book containing God's holy
+word!"
+
+Henry's face grew serious.
+
+"Oh, I forgot!" he said, and went and laid the good book carefully away.
+
+"Try and not forget again, my son. If you treat this book so lightly now,
+you may, when you become a man, as lightly esteem its holy truths; and then
+you could never live in heaven with the angels. No one goes to heaven who
+does not love and reverence the Word of God, which is holy in every jot and
+tittle."
+
+
+
+
+
+                       HARSH WORDS AND KIND WORDS.
+
+
+William Baker, and his brother Thomas and sister Ellen, were playing on the
+green lawn in front of their mother's door, when a lad named Henry Green
+came along the road, and seeing the children enjoying themselves, opened
+the gate and came in. He was rather an ill-natured boy, and generally took
+more pleasure in teasing and annoying others, than in being happy with
+them. When William saw him coming in through the gate, he called to him and
+said, in a harsh way,
+
+"You may just clear out, Henry Green, and go about your business! We don't
+want you here."
+
+But Henry did not in the least regard what William said. He came directly
+forward, and joined in the sport as freely as if he had been invited
+instead of repulsed. In a little while he began to pull Ellen about rudely,
+and to push Thomas, so as nearly to throw them down upon the grass.
+
+"Go home, Henry Green! Nobody sent for you! Nobody wants you here!" said
+William Baker, in quite an angry tone.
+
+It was of no use, however. William might as well have spoken to the wind.
+His words were entirely unheeded by Henry, whose conduct became ruder and
+more offensive.
+
+Mrs Baker, who sat at the window, saw and heard all that was passing. As
+soon as she could catch the eye of her excited son, she beckoned him to
+come to her, which he promptly did.
+
+"Try kind words on him," she said; "you will find them more powerful than
+harsh words. You spoke very harshly to Henry when he came in, and I was
+sorry to hear it."
+
+"It won't do any good, mother. He's a rude, bad boy, and I wish he would
+stay at home. Won't you make him go home?"
+
+"First go and speak to him in a gentler way than you did just now. Try to
+subdue him with kindness."
+
+William felt that he had been wrong in letting his angry feelings express
+themselves in angry words. So he left his mother and went down upon the
+lawn, where Henry was amusing himself by trying to trip the children with a
+long stick, as they ran about on the green.
+
+"Henry," he said, cheerfully and pleasantly, "if you were fishing in the
+river, and I were to come and throw stones in where your line fell, and
+scare away all the fish, would you like it?"
+
+"No, I should not," the lad replied.
+
+"It wouldn't be kind in me?"
+
+"No, of course it wouldn't."
+
+"Well, now, Henry," William tried to smile and to speak very pleasantly,
+"we are playing here and trying to enjoy ourselves. Is it right for you to
+come and interrupt us by tripping our feet, pulling us about, and pushing
+us down? I am sure you will not think so if you reflect a moment. So don't
+do it any more, Henry."
+
+"No, I will not," replied Henry, promptly. "I am sorry that I disturbed
+you. I didn't think what I was doing. And now I remember, father told me
+not to stay, and I must run home."
+
+So Henry Green went quickly away, and the children were left to enjoy
+themselves.
+
+"Didn't I tell you that kind words were more powerful than harsh words,
+William?" said his mother, after Henry had gone away; "when we speak
+harshly to our fellows, we arouse their angry feelings, and then evil
+spirits have power over them; but when we speak kindly, we affect them with
+gentleness, and good spirits flow into this latter state, and excite in
+them better thoughts and intentions. How quickly Henry changed, when you
+changed your manner and the character of your language. Do not forget this,
+my son. Do not forget, that kind words have double the power of harsh
+ones."
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.]
+
+
+
+
+
+                     THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.
+                               A FABLE.
+
+
+  A Heron once came--I can scarcely tell why--
+    To the court of his cousins, the fishes,
+  With despatches, so heavy he scarcely could fly,
+    And his bosom brimfull of good wishes.
+
+  He wished the poor Herrings no harm, he said,
+   Though there seemed to be cause for suspicion;
+  His government wished to convert them, instead,
+    And this was the end of his mission.
+
+  The Herrings replied, and were civil enough,
+    Though a little inclined to be witty:
+  "We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough,
+    And are greatly obliged for your pity.
+
+  "But your plan of conversion we beg to decline,
+    With all due respect for your nation;
+  No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine,
+    Yet we fear it would check respiration."
+
+  The Heron returned to his peers in disdain,
+    And told how their love was requited.
+  "Poor creatures!" they said, "shall we let them remain
+   So ignorant, blind, and benighted?"
+
+  Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will
+    The Herons in council decided;
+  And they flew, every one that could boast a long bill,
+    To the beach where the Herrings resided.
+
+  So the tribe were soon converts from ocean to air,
+    Though liking not much the diversion,
+  And wishing at least they had time to prepare
+    For so novel a mode of conversion.
+
+  A sensible child will discover with ease
+    The point of the tale I've related--
+  A blockhead could not, let me say what I please--
+    Then why need my MORAL be stated?
+
+
+
+
+                           EARLY SPRING FLOWERS.
+
+
+Of all the amusements of my childhood, I can think of none which I loved so
+much as rambling in the woods and meadows among the flowers. What a rich
+treat it used to be, just after the earth had thrown aside its white
+mantle, and begun to be clothed in its summer dress, to get permission to
+spend a whole Saturday afternoon in the woods with my brother and sister.
+Oh, how delighted we all were, when we found the first wild flowers of
+spring! Let me see. What flowers show their pretty faces the earliest? Do
+you remember, young friend? Perhaps you have always lived in the city, and
+have never made their acquaintance. But if you have ever seen them,
+blushing in their native haunts, I am sure you must remember how they look,
+and what their names are. I cannot see how any body can forget them, they
+are so beautiful and lovely.
+
+One of the earliest flowers of spring, and one which grew in the woods only
+a few rods from my father's door, near the stream that turned my miniature
+water-wheels, is the _Trailing Arbutus_. Often you may find this plant
+unfolding its delicate blossoms before the snow has left the ground. That,
+in our northern latitudes, is usually among the first flowers in blossom.
+Soon after she appears, you may see one and perhaps two different species
+of the _Anemone_. One, especially--the _Anemone Thalictroides_,
+as it used to be called in botany, though it is now the _Thalictrum
+Anemonoides_, I believe--is among the fairest of all these flowers of
+spring. She has a blossom as white as snow. The _Anemone Nemrosa_ is
+almost as fair, too, though not quite, I think. You can sometimes see them
+both smiling side by side, early in the month of May, nodding gracefully at
+each other, and smiling as if they were very happy. It does not require
+much imagination to fancy they are conversing together; and, indeed, I
+would quite as soon believe that flowers could talk, as I would believe
+those stories about the fairies that children hear sometimes.
+
+There is another beautiful flower which makes her appearance very
+early--the _Spring Beauty_, or _Claytonia Virginica_. She is
+usually found in the same locations with the Anemone. Then there is the
+_Liver Leaf_. Did you ever find that, little girl? Very possibly you
+have not taken a ramble early enough in the spring to see her. She makes
+her visit frequently in the latter part of April, and she does not stay
+long. But after her flower has faded and fallen, there may be seen a few
+deeply notched and curious leaves, to mark the spot where she bloomed so
+sweetly.
+
+The _Blood Root_, too, will make her visit, and go away again, if you
+delay your ramble in the woods till the first of May. The blossom of the
+Blood Root is a very delicate white. Hundreds of exotic flowers are
+cultivated in our gardens, and very much admired, that are not half so
+pretty as this. The leaves that appear before the plant is in blossom, are
+oval, a little like those of the Adder's Tongue, which is in flower
+somewhat later, and like those of one species of the Solomon's Seal--the
+_Convallaria Bifolia_. But when the flower of the Blood Root appears,
+you see quite a different kind of leaf, so that even close observers of
+wild flowers are sometimes deceived, and think that their early leaves
+belong to some other plant.
+
+Every body who has been at all familiar with the forest and meadows in the
+spring, knows the _Violet_. There are a good many sisters in this
+charming family, but none, perhaps, in our latitude, that are more
+beautiful than the _Viola Rotundifolia,_ or Yellow Violet, with
+roundish leaves, lying close to the ground. The Blue Violet, too, appears
+soon after, and is perhaps equally pretty. I recollect distinctly where it
+used to grow near the little brook that ran through our meadow--a brook
+that many a time has served to turn my water-wheel. Oh, those days of
+miniature water-wheels, and kites, and wind-mills! how happy they were, and
+how I love to think of them now! By the way, have you ever read Miss
+Gould's poetical fable about the little child and the Blue Violet? I must
+recite a stanza or two of this poem, I think. The child speaks to the
+Violet, and says,
+
+  "Violet, violet, sparkling with dew,
+  Down in the meadow land, wild where you grew,
+  How did you come by the beautiful blue
+      With which your soft petals unfold?
+  And how do you hold up your tender young head,
+  Where rude, sweeping winds rush along o'er your bed,
+  And dark, gloomy clouds, ranging over you, shed
+      Their waters, so heavy and cold?
+
+  "No one has nursed you, or watched you an hour,
+  Or found you a place in the garden or bower;
+  And they cannot yield me so lovely a flower,
+      As here I have found at my feet!
+
+  "Speak, my sweet violet, answer and tell,
+  How you have grown up and flourished so well,
+  And look so contented, where lonely you dwell,
+       And we thus by accident meet?"
+
+Then the Violet answers, and tells the child why it is so contented, and
+how it is able to hold up its head, and where its pretty blue petals come
+from. But I will not recite the remainder of the poem, for I am sure my
+readers do not need to be told who made the flowers, and who taught them to
+bloom so sweetly in their wild haunts.
+
+The early flowers of spring! I loved them fondly when a child; but now I am
+a man, I love them still more. Shall I tell you why, dear child? There is
+something sad in the reason, and yet it is not all sadness. I had a
+sister--I _had_ a sister. Ah! that tells the tale. I have no sister
+now! The dearest companion of my early rambles among the flowers--herself
+the fairest and sweetest of them all--has fallen before the scythe of
+Death. She has gone now to a world of perpetual spring, and the flowers she
+loved so well are blooming over her grave. She faded away in the early
+spring, and we laid her to rest where her mother had long been sleeping. By
+the side of the streamlet where we used to play in the sunny days of
+childhood, and where the Dandelion grew, and the Butter-cup, and the
+Violet--there is now the form of her I tenderly loved.
+
+But my strain is sad--too sad. I will sing, and be cheerful.
+
+      Alas! how soon
+  The things of earth we love most fondly perish!
+  Why died the flower our hearts had learned to cherish?
+      Why, ere 'twas noon?
+
+      I cannot tell--
+  But though the grave be that loved sister's dwelling,
+  And though my heart e'en now with grief is swelling,
+      I know 'tis well.
+
+      'Tis well with the--
+  'Tis well with thee, thou lone and silent sleeper!
+  'Tis well, though thou hast left me here a weeper
+      Awhile to be.
+
+      'Tis well for me--
+  'Tis well; my home, since thou art gone, is dearer--
+  The grave is welcome, if it bring me nearer
+      To heaven and thee.
+
+      I'll not repine--
+  No, blest one; thou art happier than thy brother:
+  I'll think of thee, as with thy angel-mother,
+      Sweet sister mine.
+
+      Still would I share
+  Thy love, and meet thee where the flowers are springing,
+  Where the wild bird his joyous note is singing--
+      Come to me there.
+
+      Oh! come again,
+  At the still hour, the holy hour of even,
+  Ere one pale star has gemmed the vault of heaven;
+      Come to me then.
+
+
+
+
+                         TEMPTATION RESISTED.
+
+
+Charles Murray left home, with his books in his satchel, for school. Before
+starting, he kissed his little sister, and patted Juno on the head, and as
+he went singing away, he felt as happy as any little boy could wish to
+feel. Charles was a good-tempered lad, but he had the fault common to a
+great many boys, that of being tempted and enticed by others to do things
+which he knew to be contrary to the wishes of his parents. Such acts never
+made him feel any happier; for the fear that his disobedience would be
+found out, and the consciousness of having done wrong, were far from being
+pleasant companions.
+
+On the present occasion, as he walked briskly in the direction of the
+school, he repeated over his lessons in his mind, and was intent upon
+having them so perfect as to be able to repeat every word. He had gone
+nearly half the distance, and was still thinking over his lessons, when he
+stopped suddenly, as a voice called out,
+
+"Halloo, Charley!"
+
+Turning in the direction from which the voice came, he saw Archy Benton,
+with his school basket in his hand; but he was going from, instead of in
+the direction of the school.
+
+"Where are you going, Archy?" asked Charles, calling out to him.
+
+"Into the woods, for chestnuts."
+
+"Ain't you going to school, to-day?"
+
+"No, indeed. There was a sharp frost last night, and Uncle John says the
+wind will rattle down the chestnuts like hail."
+
+"Did your father say you might go?"
+
+"No, indeed. I asked him, but he said I couldn't go until Saturday. But the
+hogs are in the woods, and will eat the chestnuts all up, before Saturday.
+So I am going to-day. Come, go along, won't you? It is such a fine day, and
+the ground will be covered with chestnuts. We can get home at the usual
+time, and no one will suspect that we were not at school."
+
+"I should like to go, very well," said Charley; "but I know father will be
+greatly displeased, if he finds it out, and I am afraid he will get to know
+it, in some way."
+
+"How could he get to know it? Isn't he at his store all the time?"
+
+"But he might think to ask me if I was at school. And I never will tell a
+lie."
+
+"You could say yes, and not tell a lie, either," returned Archy. "You were
+at school yesterday."
+
+"No, I couldn't. A lie, father says, is in the intent to deceive. He would,
+of course, mean to ask whether I was at school to-day, and if I said yes, I
+would tell a lie."
+
+"It isn't so clear to me that you would. At any rate, I don't see such
+great harm in a little fib. It doesn't hurt any body."
+
+"Father says a falsehood hurts a boy a great deal more than he thinks for.
+And one day he showed me in the Bible where liars were classed with
+murderers, and other wicked spirits, in hell. I can't tell a lie, Archy."
+
+"There won't be any need of your doing so," urged Archy; "for I am sure he
+will never think to ask you about it. Why should he?"
+
+"I don't know. But whenever I have been doing any thing wrong, he is sure
+to begin to question me, and lead me on until I betray the secret of my
+fault."
+
+"Never mind. Come and go with me. It is such a fine day. We shan't have
+another like it. It will rain on Saturday, I'll bet any thing. So come
+along, now, and let us have a day in the woods, while we can."
+
+Charles was very strongly tempted. When he thought of the confinement of
+school, and then of the freedom of a day in the woods, he felt much
+inclined to go with Archy.
+
+"Come along," said Archy, as Charles stood balancing the matter in his
+mind. And he took hold of his arm, and drew him in a direction opposite
+from the school. "Come! you are just the boy I want. I was thinking about
+you the moment before I saw you."
+
+The temptation to Charles was very strong. "I don't believe I will be found
+out," he said to himself; "and it is such a pleasant day to go into the
+woods!"
+
+Still he held back, and thought of his father's displeasure if he should
+discover that he had played the truant. The word "truant," that he repeated
+mentally, decided the matter in his mind, and he exclaimed, in a loud and
+decided voice, as he dragged away from the hand of Archy, that had still
+retained its hold on his arm, "I've never played truant yet, and I don't
+think I ever will. Father says he never played truant when he was a boy;
+and I'd like to say the same thing when I get to be a man."
+
+"Nonsense, Charley! come, go with me," urged Archy.
+
+But Charles Murray's mind was made up not to play the truant. So he started
+off for school, saying, as he did so--
+
+"No, I can't go, Archy; and if I were you, I would wait until Saturday. You
+will enjoy it so much better when you have your fathers consent. It always
+takes away more than half the pleasure of any enjoyment to think that it is
+obtained at the cost of disobedience. Come! go to school with me now, and I
+will go into the woods with you on Saturday."
+
+"No, I can't wait until Saturday. I'm sure it will rain by that time; and
+if it don't, the hogs will eat up every nut that has fallen before that
+time."
+
+"There'll be plenty left on the trees, if they do. It's as fine sport to
+knock them down as to pick them up."
+
+But Archy's purpose was settled, and nothing that Charles Murray could say
+had any influence with him. So the boys parted, the one for his school, and
+the other for a stolen holiday in the woods.
+
+The moment Charles was alone again, he felt no longer any desire to go with
+Archy. He had successfully resisted the temptation, and the allurement was
+gone. But even for listening to temptation he had some small punishment,
+for he was late to school by nearly ten minutes, and had not his lessons as
+perfect as usual, for which the teacher felt called upon to reprimand him.
+But this was soon forgotten; and he was so good a boy through the whole
+day, and studied all his lessons so diligently, that when evening came, the
+teacher, who had not forgotten the reprimand, said to him:
+
+"You have been the best boy in the school to-day, Charles. To-morrow
+morning try and come in time, and be sure that your lessons are all well
+committed to memory."
+
+Charles felt very light and cheerful as he went running, skipping, and
+singing homeward. His day had been well spent, and happiness was his
+reward. When he came in sight of home, there was no dread of meeting his
+father and mother, such as he would have felt if he had played the truant.
+Every thing looked bright and pleasant, and when Juno came bounding out to
+meet him, he couldn't help hugging the favorite dog in the joy he felt at
+seeing her.
+
+When Charles met his mother, she looked at him with a more earnest and
+affectionate gaze than usual. And then the boy noticed that her countenance
+became serious.
+
+"Ain't you well, mother?" asked Charles.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I am very well," she replied; "but I saw something an hour
+ago which has made me feel sad. Archy Benton was brought home from the
+woods this afternoon, where he had gone for chestnuts, instead of going to
+school, as he should have done, dreadfully hurt. He had fallen from a tree.
+Both his arms are broken, and the doctor fears that he has received some
+inward injury that may cause his death."
+
+Charles turned pale, when his mother said this.
+
+"Boys rarely get hurt, except when they are acting disobediently, or doing
+some harm to others," remarked Mrs Murray. "If Archy had gone to school,
+this dreadful accident would not have happened. His father told him that he
+might go for chestnuts on Saturday, and if he had waited until then, I am
+sure he might have gone into the woods and received no harm, for all who do
+right are protected from evil."
+
+"He tried to persuade me to go with him," said Charles, "and I was strongly
+tempted to do so. But I resisted the temptation, and have felt glad about
+it ever since."
+
+Mrs Murray took her son's hand, and pressing it hard, said, with much
+feeling,
+
+"How rejoiced I am that you were able to resist his persuasions to do
+wrong. Even if you had not been hurt yourself, the injury received by Archy
+would have discovered to us that you were with him, and then how unhappy
+your father and I would have been I cannot tell. And you would have been
+unhappy, too. Ah! my son, there is only one true course for all of us, and
+that is, to do right. Every deviation from this path brings trouble. An act
+of a moment may make us wretched for days, weeks, months, or perhaps years.
+It will be a long, long time before Archy is free from pain of body or
+mind--it may be that he will never recover. Think how miserable his parents
+must feel; and all because of this single act of disobedience."
+
+We cannot say how often Charles said to himself, that evening and the next
+day, when he thought of Archy, "Oh, how glad I am that I did not go with
+him!"
+
+When Saturday came, the father and mother of Charles Murray gave him
+permission to go into the woods for chestnuts. Two or three other boys, who
+were his school companions, likewise received liberty to go; and they
+joined Charles, and altogether made a pleasant party. It did not rain, nor
+had the hogs eaten up all the nuts, for the lads found plenty under the
+tall old trees, and in a few hours filled their bags and baskets. Charles
+said, when he came home, that he had never enjoyed himself better, and was
+so glad that he had not been tempted to go with Archy Benton.
+
+It was a lesson he never afterward forgot. If he was tempted to do what he
+knew was wrong, he thought of Archy's day in the woods, and the tempter
+instantly left him. The boy who had been so badly hurt, did not die, as the
+doctor feared; but he suffered great pain, and was ill for a long time.
+
+
+
+
+                            EVENING PRAYER.
+
+
+  Heavenly Father! Through the day,
+  Have we wandered from thy way?
+  Have our thoughts to error turned?
+  Has within us evil burned?
+
+  Heavenly Father! Oh, remove
+  Evil thoughts and evil love!
+  Give us truth our minds to fill;
+  Give us strength to do thy will.
+
+  Often we are led astray
+  From the true and righteous way;
+  But, we humbly pray to thee,
+  From the tempter keep us free.
+
+  Heavenly Father! While we sleep,
+  Angel watchers round us keep.
+  When the morning breaks, may we,
+  Better, wiser children be.
+
+
+
+
+                         STRETCHING THE TRUTH.
+
+
+It is a very bad habit, this stretching the truth, as one does a piece of
+India rubber; and the worst of it is, that when any body forms the habit,
+there is no telling how much it will grow upon him.
+
+There is Jack Weaver, for instance. He is a sailor all over, to be sure--an
+"old salt," as he would call himself. But that does not confer upon him any
+license to spin such yarns as he does, to his young shipmates on the
+forward deck. He has cruised half a dozen years after whales, in the
+Pacific ocean, and, of course, has seen some sights that are worth speaking
+of. But that is no reason why he should fill the head of that young fellow
+sitting on a coil of rope with a hundred cock-and-bull stories, that have
+scarcely a word of truth in them, from beginning to end. Why, he don't
+pretend to tell stories without stretching the truth.
+
+I know some boys, too, who seem to find it very difficult to relate any
+incident as it took place. They are so much in the habit of stretching the
+truth, in fact, that those who are acquainted with them seldom believe more
+than half of one of their stories. These boys, however, have not the
+slightest intention, when they are pulling out a foot into a yard, of doing
+any thing wrong. Very possibly they think they are telling a pretty
+straight story. Habits are strong, you know--especially bad habits. Just
+look at Selden Mason, one of the best-natured boys I ever saw, and who has
+not got an enemy among all his school-mates; it is wonderful what a
+truth-stretcher he has got to be. Every boy shakes his head, when he hears
+a great story, and says it sounds like one of Selden's yarns. And yet be is
+so particular and minute in relating any thing, sometimes, that one who did
+not know him would not suspect him of treating the truth so badly. His
+apparent sincerity reminds me of an anecdote related of another boy, who
+had this habit worse than Selden has, I should think. The boy remarked that
+his father once killed ninety-nine crows at a single shot! He was asked why
+he did not say a hundred, and have done with it. The fellow was indignant.
+"Do you think I would tell a lie for one crow?" said he!
+
+Selden Mason's habit of truth-stretching has got such a hold of him now,
+that you can perceive the marks of it in almost every thing he says. I have
+sometimes been half sorry he was so good a boy in other respects; for, as
+his companions like him pretty well, there is the more danger that they
+will catch the habit of him, before they are aware of it. His teacher was
+once asked what he thought of Selden, on the whole. "I can't help being
+pleased with the fellow," said he; "he is a good scholar, and very
+obedient; but I should like him a great deal better if he didn't tell such
+monstrous stories. He is like a book all printed in italic letters, with an
+exclamation point at the end of every sentence." Selden has often gone by
+the name of the "Exclamation Point," since that time.
+
+Poor fellow! I wish he had tried to break himself of that habit, before it
+became so deeply rooted. I am afraid it will stick to him as long as he
+lives now; and if it does, he will get a very bad character as a man of
+business. Scarcely any reliance can be placed upon his word. No matter how
+careful he may be to state a thing exactly as it is, in his business
+matters, if he keeps up this general habit, people will say, "Oh! that's
+nothing but one of Mason's italic stories!"
+
+Look out, my boy! It wouldn't be the strangest thing in the world, if you
+had got into a habit something like this of Selden's, though it may not yet
+be half so strong. But keep a sharp look-out, at any rate. Take care that
+you never stretch the truth.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE CITY PIGEON.
+
+
+With all is the beautiful lingerer in our crowded cities a favorite. All
+love this gentle bird, that, shunning the cool and quiet woods, stays with
+man in the hot and noisy town, and, amid strife and the war of passions,
+passes ever before him a living emblem of peace. "It is no light chance,"
+says Willis, in his exquisite lines "To a City Pigeon,"
+
+[Illustration: THE CITY PIGEON.]
+
+  "It is no light chance. Thou art set apart
+  Wisely by Him who has tamed the heart,
+  To stir the love for the bright and fair,
+  That else were sealed in this crowded air;
+      I sometimes dream
+  Angelic rays from thy pinions gleam."
+
+In these same lines, how truly and how sweetly has he said:
+
+  "A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!
+  Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word!
+  Thou'rt linked with all that's fresh and wild,
+  In the prison'd thoughts of a city child;
+      And thy glossy wings
+  Are its brightest image of moving things."
+
+In the language of the same poet, how often have we said, as we looked
+forth upon the gentle bird:
+
+  "Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove;
+  Thy daily visits have touched my love.
+  I watch thy coming, and list the note
+  That stirs so low in thy mellow throat;
+      And my joy is high
+  To catch the glance of thy gentle eye."
+
+In his lines to "The Belfry Pigeon," Mr Willis has expressed most
+truthfully the feelings and thoughts which all have had for this gentle
+creature, which,
+
+      "Alone of the feathered race,
+  Doth look unscared on the human face."
+
+As we know of nothing on the subject more appropriate and beautiful than
+the address referred to, we will copy it for our young readers.
+
+
+
+
+                          THE BELFRY PIGEON.
+
+
+  "On the cross beam under the Old South Bell,
+  The nest of a pigeon is builded well.
+  In summer and winter that bird is there,
+  Out and in with the morning air.
+  I love to see him track the street,
+  With his wary eye and active feet;
+  And I often watch him as he springs,
+  Circling the steeples with easy wings,
+  Till across the dial his shade has pass'd,
+  And the belfry edge is gained at last.
+  'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note,
+  And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;
+  There's a human look in its swelling breast,
+  And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;
+  And I often stop with the fear I feel--
+  He runs so close to the rapid wheel.
+
+  "Whatever is rung on that noisy bell--
+  Chime of the hour or funeral knell--
+  The dove in the belfry must hear it well.
+  When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon--
+  When the sexton cheerily rings for noon--
+  When the clock strikes clear at morning light--
+  When the child is waked with 'nine at night'--
+  When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,
+  Filling the spirit with love of prayer--
+  Whatever tale in the bell is heard,
+  He broods on his folded feet unstirr'd,
+  Or, rising half in his rounded nest,
+  He takes the time to smooth his breast,
+  Then drops again with film�d eyes,
+  And sleeps as the last vibration dies.
+
+  "Sweet bird! I would that I could be
+  A hermit in the crowd like thee!
+  With wings to fly to wood and glen.
+  Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men,
+  And daily, with unwilling feet,
+  I tread, like thee, the crowded street;
+  But, unlike me, when day is o'er,
+  Thou canst dismiss the world and soar;
+  Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,
+  Canst smooth the feathers on thy breast,
+  And drop, forgetful, to thy nest."
+
+
+
+
+                          A DAY IN THE WOODS.
+
+
+"School!" said Richard White, to himself; "School! I don't want to go to
+school. Why am I sent to school every day? What good is there in learning
+grammar, and arithmetic, and geography, and all them things? I don't like
+school, and I never did."
+
+"Dick!" called out a voice; and the lad, who had seated himself on a cellar
+door, and placed his satchel beside him, looked up, and met the cheerful
+face of one of his school-fellows.
+
+"What are you sitting there for, Dick? Don't you hear the school bell?"
+
+"Yes; I hear it, Bill."
+
+"Then get up and come along, or you will be late."
+
+"I don't care if I am. I don't like to go to school."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No, indeed. I'd never go to school if I could help it. What's the use of
+so much learning? I'm going to a trade as soon as I get old enough; and
+Pete Elder says that a boy who don't know A B C, can learn a trade just as
+well as one who does."
+
+"I don't know any thing about that," replied William Brown; "but father
+says, the more learning I get when a boy, the more successful in life will
+I be when a man; that is, if I make a good use of my learning."
+
+"What good is grammar going to do a mechanic, I wonder?" said Richard,
+contemptuously. "What use will the double rule of three, or fractions, be
+to him?"
+
+"They may be of a great deal of use. Father says we cannot learn too much
+while we are boys. He says he never learned any thing in his life that did
+not come of use to him at some time or other."
+
+"Grammar, and geography, and double rule of three, will never be of any use
+to me."
+
+"Oh, yes, they will, Dick! So come along. The bell is nearly done ringing.
+Come, won't you?"
+
+"No; I'm going out to the woods,"
+
+"Come, Richard, come! That will be playing truant."
+
+"No; I've made my mind up not to go to school to-day."
+
+"You'll be sorry for it, Dick, if you do stay away from school."
+
+"Why will I?" said the boy, quickly. "Are you going to tell?"
+
+"If I should be asked about you, I will not tell a lie; but I don't suppose
+any one will inquire of me."
+
+"Then why will I be sorry?"
+
+"You'll be sorry when you're a man."
+
+Richard White laughed aloud at the idea of his being sorry when he became a
+man, for having neglected his school when a boy.
+
+"If you are not going, I am," said William Brown, starting off and running
+as fast as he could. He arrived at the door of the schoolhouse just as the
+bell stopped ringing. In stopping to persuade Richard not to play truant,
+he had come near being too late.
+
+As soon as William left him, Richard White got up from the cellar door
+where he had been reclining lazily, and throwing his satchel over his
+shoulder, started for the woods. His books and satchel were in his way, and
+rather heavy to carry about with him for six or seven hours. But he did not
+think it prudent to leave them any where, for the person with whom they
+were left would suspect him of playing truant, and through that means his
+fault might come to the knowledge of his parents.
+
+After thinking over this, as he went on his way, it occurred to Richard
+that the satchel was as likely to betray him if carried along as if left at
+some store to be called for on his return. Finally, he concluded to ask for
+a newspaper at a shop.
+
+With this he wrapped up his satchel, and taking it under his arm, went on
+without any more fears of betrayal from this source.
+
+As soon as the foolish boy reached the woods, he hid his satchel, so as to
+get clear of the trouble it was to him, beside a large stone, and covered
+it with leaves and long grass. Then he felt free, and, as he thought,
+happy.
+
+But it was not long before he got tired of rambling about alone. He
+listened, sometimes, to the birds, and sometimes tried, with stones, to
+kill the beautiful and innocent creatures. Then he thought how pleasant it
+would be to find a nest, and carry off the young ones; and he searched with
+great diligence for a long time, but could find no nest.
+
+Once a little striped squirrel glided past him, and mounted a high tree. As
+it ran around and around the great trunk, appearing and disappearing at
+intervals, Richard tried to knock it off with stones. But his aim was not
+very true. Instead of hitting the squirrel, he managed to get a severe blow
+himself; for a stone which he threw very high, struck a large limb, and,
+bouncing back, fell upon his upturned face, and cut him badly.
+
+From that moment, all the pleasure he had felt since entering the woods was
+gone. The blood stained his shirt bosom, and covered his hand when he put
+it up to his face. Of course, the wound, and the blood upon his shirt,
+would betray him. This was his first thought, as he washed himself at a
+small stream. But, then, all at once it occurred to him--for evil
+suggestions are sure to be made to us when we are in the way to receive
+them--that it would be just as easy to say that a boy threw a stone, which
+struck him as he was walking along the street, as to say that he got hurt
+while in the woods. And, without stopping to think how wicked it would be
+to tell a lie, Richard determined to make this statement when he got home.
+
+The smarting of the wound, and the uneasiness occasioned by a sight of the
+blood, so disturbed Richard's feelings, that he was unable to regain enough
+composure of mind to enjoy his day of freedom in the woods. By twelve
+o'clock, he was tired and hungry, and heartily wished himself at home. But
+it would not do to go now; for if he were to do so, his father would
+understand that he had not been to school. There was no alternative for him
+but to remain out in the lonely woods, without any thing to eat, for five
+hours longer. And a weary time it was for him.
+
+At last the sun, which had been for a very long time, it seemed to him,
+descending toward the western horizon, sunk so low that he was sure it must
+be after five o'clock, and then, with sober feelings, he started for home.
+The day had disappointed him. He was far from feeling happy. When he
+thought of the wound on his face and the blood upon his bosom, he felt
+troubled. If he told the truth, he knew he would be punished, and if he
+told a lie, and was found out, punishment would as certainly follow.
+
+These were his thoughts and feelings when he came to the place where he had
+concealed his satchel. But, lo! his books were gone. Some one had
+discovered and carried them off.
+
+Sadly enough, now, did Richard White return home. We will not pain our
+young readers with an account of his reception. The father already knew
+that his son had not been to school, for a man had found the satchel in the
+woods. Richard's name was on it, and this led the man to bring it to his
+father, with whom he was acquainted.
+
+Richard never went to school again. On the very next week, he was sent to
+learn a trade, and he soon found that there was a great difference between
+a school-boy and an apprentice.
+
+William Brown continued to go to school two years longer, when he also went
+from home to learn a trade. He was then a good scholar, and had a fondness
+for books. Because he was learning a trade, he did not give up all other
+kinds of learning, but, whenever he had leisure, he applied himself to his
+books. Both he and Richard were free about the same time. Richard had
+learned his trade well, and was as good a workman as William; but he had
+not improved his mind. He had not been able to see the use that learning
+was going to be to a mechanic.
+
+Fifteen years have passed since these two lads completed their terms of
+apprenticeship, and entered the world as men; and how do they now stand?
+Why, William Brown has a large manufactory of his own, and Richard White is
+one of his workmen. By his superior intelligence and enterprise, the former
+is able to serve the public interests by giving direction to the labors of
+a hundred men, and his reward is in proportion to the service he thus
+renders; while the latter serves the public interest to the extent of only
+one man's labors, and his reward is in exact ratio thereto.
+
+Did Richard White gain any thing by his day in the woods? We think not. Is
+there any use in education to a mechanic? Let each of our young readers
+answer the question for himself.
+
+
+
+
+                    THE SPIDER AND THE HONEY-BEE.
+         A FABLE FOR MANY IN GENERAL AND SOME IN PARTICULAR.
+
+
+I.
+
+  A bee who had chased after pleasure all day,
+  And homeward was lazily wending his way,
+  Fell in with a Spider, who called to the Bee:
+  "Good evening! I trust you are well," said he.
+
+II.
+
+  The bee was quite happy to stop awhile there--
+  For indolence always has moments to spare--
+  "Good evening!" he said, with a very low bow,
+  "My health, sir, alas! 'tis quite delicate now.
+
+III.
+
+  "From spring until autumn, from morning till night,
+  I'm obliged to be toiling with all my might;
+  My labors are wearing me out, and you know
+  I might as well starve, as to kill myself so."
+
+IV.
+
+  The Spider pretended to pity the Bee--
+  For a cunning old hypocrite Spider was he--
+  "I'm sorry to see you so ill," he said;
+  And he whispered his wife, "He will have to be bled."
+
+[Illustration: THE BEE OUTSIDE THE WEB.]
+
+V.
+
+  "Some people--perhaps they are wiser than I--
+  Some people are in a great hurry to die;
+  Excuse me, but candor compels me to say,
+  'Tis wrong to be throwing one's life away.
+
+VI.
+
+  "Your industry, sir, it may do very well
+  For the beaver's rude hut, or the honey-bee's cell;
+  But it never would suit a gay fellow like me;
+  I love to be idle--I love to be free.
+
+VII.
+
+  "This hoarding of riches--this wasting of time,
+  In robbing the gardens and fields--'tis a crime!
+  And then to be guilty of suicide, too!
+  I tremble to think what a miser will do."
+
+VIII.
+
+  'Tis strange the poor Bee was so stupid and blind.
+  "Mister Spider," said he, "you have spoken my mind;
+  There's something within me that seems to say,
+  I have toiled long enough, and 'tis better to play.
+
+IX.
+  "But how in the world shall I manage to live?
+  I might beg all my life, and nobody would give.
+  'Tis easy enough to be merry and sing,
+  But living on air is a different thing."
+
+X.
+
+  The Spider was silent, and looked very grave--
+  'Twas a habit he had--the scheming old knave!
+  No Spider, intent on his labor of love,
+  Had more of the serpent, or less of the dove.
+
+XI.
+
+  "To serve you would give me great pleasure," said he;
+  "Come into my palace, and tarry with me;
+  The Spider knows nothing of labor and care.
+  Come, you shall be welcome our bounty to share.
+
+XII.
+
+  "I live like a king, and my wife like a queen,
+  In meadows where flowers are blooming and green;
+  'Tis sweet on the violet's bosom to lie,
+  And list to the stream that runs merrily by.
+
+XIII.
+
+  "With us you shall mingle in scenes of delight,
+  All summer and winter, from morning till night;
+  And when 'neath the hills the sun sinks in the west,
+  Your head on a pillow of roses shall rest.
+
+XIV.
+
+  "When miserly Bees shall return from their toils,
+  We'll catch them, and tie them, and feast on the spoils;
+  I'll lighten their burdens--I ought to know how--
+  My pantry is full of such gentlemen now."
+
+XV.
+
+  The Bee did not wait to be urged any more,
+  But nodded his thanks, as he entered the door.
+  "Aha!" said the Spider, "I have you at last."
+  And he caught the poor urchin, and wound him up fast.
+
+XVI.
+
+  The Bee, when aware of his perilous fate,
+  Recovered his wit, though a moment too late.
+  "O treacherous Spider! for shame!" said he,
+  "Is it thus you betray a poor, innocent Bee?"
+
+XVII.
+
+  The cunning old Spider then laughed outright;
+  "Poor fellow!" he said, "you are in a sad plight!
+  Ha! ha! what a dunce you must be to suppose,
+  That the heart of a Spider should pity your woes!
+
+[Illustration: THE BEE INSIDE THE WEB.]
+
+XVIII.
+
+  "I never could boast of much honor or shame,
+  Though a little acquainted with both by name;
+  But I think if the Bees can a brother betray,
+  We Spiders are quite as good people as they.
+
+XIX.
+
+  "On the whole, you have lived long enough, I opine;
+  So now, by your leave, I will hasten to dine;
+  You'll make a good dinner, it must be confess'd,
+  And the world, I am thinking, will pardon the rest."
+
+XX.
+
+  This lesson for every one, little and great,
+  Is taught in that vagabond's tragical fate:
+  _Of him who is scheming your friend to ensnare_,
+  _Unless you've a passion for Heeding, beware!_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                       EMMA LEE AND HER SIXPENCE.
+
+
+Emma's aunt had given her a sixpence, and now the question was, what should
+she buy with it? "I'll you what I will do, mother," she said, changing her
+mind for the tenth time.
+
+"Well, dear, what have you determined upon now?"
+
+"I'll save my sixpence until I get a good many more, and then I'll buy me a
+handsome wax doll. Wouldn't you do that, mother, if you were me?"
+
+"If I were you, I suppose I would do just as you will," replied Emma's
+mother, smiling.
+
+"But, mother, don't you think that would be a nice way to do? I get a good
+many pennies and sixpences, you know, and could soon save enough to buy me
+a beautiful wax doll."
+
+"I think it would be better," said Mrs Lee, "for you to save up your money
+and buy something worth having."
+
+"Isn't a large wax doll worth having?"
+
+"Oh, yes! for a little girl like you."
+
+"Then I'll save up my money, until I get enough to buy me a doll as big as
+Sarah Johnson's."
+
+In about an hour afterward, Emma came to her mother, and said--
+
+"I've just thought what I will do with my sixpence. I saw such a beautiful
+book at a store, yesterday! It was full of pictures, and the price was just
+sixpence. I'll buy that book."
+
+"But didn't you say, a little while ago, that you were going to save your
+money until you had enough to buy a doll?"
+
+"I know I did, mother; but I didn't think about the book then. And it will
+take so long before I can save up money enough to get a new doll. I think I
+will buy the book."
+
+"Very well, dear," replied Mrs Lee.
+
+Not long after, Emma changed her mind again.
+
+On the next day, her mother said to her--
+
+"Your Aunt Mary is quite sick, and I am going to see her. Do you wish to go
+with me?"
+
+"Yes, mother, I should like to go. I am so sorry that Aunt Mary is sick.
+What ails her?"
+
+"She is never very well, and the least cold makes her sick. The last time
+she was here she took cold."
+
+As they were about leaving the house, Emma said--
+
+"I'll take my sixpence along, and spend it, mother."
+
+"What are you going to buy?" asked Mrs Lee.
+
+"I don't know," replied Emma. "Sometimes I think I will buy some cakes; and
+then I think I will get a whole sixpence worth of cream candy, I like it
+so."
+
+"Have you forgotten the book?"
+
+"Oh, no! Sometimes I think I will buy the book. Indeed, I don't know what
+to buy."
+
+In this undecided state of mind, Emma started with her mother to see her
+aunt. They had not gone far before they met a poor woman, with some very
+pretty bunches of flowers for sale. She carried them on a tray. She stopped
+before Mrs Lee and her little girl, and asked if they would not buy some
+flowers.
+
+"How much are they a bunch?" asked Emma.
+
+"Sixpence," replied the woman.
+
+"Mother! I'll tell you what I will do with my sixpence," said Emma, her
+face brightening with the thought that came into her mind. "I will buy a
+bunch of flowers for Aunt Mary. You know how she loves flowers. Can't I do
+it, mother?"
+
+"Oh, yes, dear! Do it, by all means, if you think you can give up the nice
+cream candy, or the picture book, for the sake of gratifying your aunt."
+
+Emma did not hesitate a moment, but selected a very handsome bunch of
+flowers, and paid her sixpence to the woman with a feeling of real
+pleasure.
+
+Aunt Mary was very much pleased with the bouquet Emma brought her.
+
+"The sight of these flowers, and their delightful perfume, really makes me
+feel better," she said, after she had held them in her hand for a little
+while; "I am very much obliged to my niece, for thinking of me."
+
+That evening, Emma looked up from a book which her mother had bought her as
+they returned home from Aunt Mary's, and with which she had been much
+entertained, and said--
+
+"I think the spending of my sixpence gave me a double pleasure."
+
+"How so, dear?" asked Mrs Lee.
+
+"I made aunt happy, and the flower woman too. Didn't you notice how pleased
+the flower woman looked? I wouldn't wonder if she had little children at
+home, and thought about the bread that sixpence would buy them when I paid
+it to her. Don't you think she did?"
+
+"I cannot tell that, Emma," replied her mother; "but I shouldn't at all
+wonder if it were as you suppose. And so it gives you pleasure to think you
+have made others happy?"
+
+"Indeed it does."
+
+"Acts of kindness," replied Emma's mother, "always produce a feeling of
+pleasure. This every one may know. And it is the purest and truest pleasure
+we experience in this world. Try and remember this little incident of the
+flowers as long as you live, my child; and let the thought of it remind you
+that every act of self-denial brings to the one who makes it a sweet
+delight."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        UNCLE RODERICK'S STORIES.
+
+
+Uncle Roderick was an old bachelor--as thorough going an old bachelor as
+any one need wish to see. Some folks said he had a great many droll whims
+in his head. I don't know how that was; but this I know, that he loved
+every body, and almost every body loved him. He had evidently seen better
+days, when, in my boyhood, I first made his acquaintance; or rather, he had
+been "better off in the world," as the phrase goes. Whether he had been
+happier, may admit of a question; for the wealthiest man is not always the
+happiest. There were marks about him which seemed to show that he had been
+higher on the wheel of fortune, and that the change in his condition had
+had a chastening effect--just as some fruits become mellower and better
+after being bruised a little and frost-bitten. He was a great lover of
+children, and withal an inveterate story-teller.
+
+His memory must have been pretty good, I think; for he would often tell
+stories to his little friends by the hour, about what happened to him when
+he was a boy. Some of these stories were funny enough; but the old
+gentleman usually managed to tack on some good moral to the end of them. By
+your leave, boys and girls, I will serve up two or three of these stories
+for an evening's entertainment. They will bear telling the second time, I
+guess, and I will repeat them, as nearly as my recollection will allow, in
+the good old bachelor's own words.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                STORY FIRST.
+                          HONESTY THE BEST POLICY.
+
+
+A person is, on the whole, a great deal better off to be honest. Dishonesty
+is a losing game. A wise man was once asked what one gained by not telling
+the truth. The reply was, "Not to be believed when he speaks the truth." He
+was right. There are a great many other respects, too, in which a dishonest
+person suffers by his dishonesty. I must tell you what a lie once cost me.
+I was about nine years old, perhaps. In justice to myself, I ought to say
+that I was not much addicted to this vice; but told a fib once in a great
+while, as I am afraid too many other little boys, pretty good on the whole,
+sometimes allow themselves to do. One very cool day in the spring of the
+year, my father, who was a farmer, was ploughing, and I was riding horse. I
+didn't relish the task very well, as I was rather cold, and old Silvertail
+was full of his mischief. It was a little more than I could do to manage
+him. Moreover, there was some rare sport going on at home.
+
+"Father," said I, after bearing the penance for the greater part of the
+forenoon, "how much longer must I stay in the field?"
+
+"About an hour," was the reply.
+
+An hour seemed a great while in the circumstances, and I ventured to say,
+"I wish I could go home now--my head aches."
+
+"I am very sorry," said my father; "but can't you stay till it is time to
+go home to dinner?"
+
+I thought not--my headache was getting to be pretty severe.
+
+"Well," said he, taking me off the horse, and no doubt suspecting that my
+disease was rather in my _heart_ than my head--a suspicion far too
+well-founded, I am sorry to say--"well, you may go home. I don't want you
+to work if you are sick. Go straight home, and tell your mother that I say
+you must take a good large dose of rhubarb. Tell her that I think it will
+do you a great deal of good!"
+
+There was no alternative. I went home, of course, and delivered the message
+to my mother. I told her, however, that I thought my head was better,
+hoping to avoid taking the nauseous medicine. But it was of no use. It was
+too late. She understood my case as well as my father did. She knew well
+enough my disease was laziness. So she prepared the rhubarb--an unusually
+generous dose, I always thought--and I had to swallow every morsel of it.
+Dear me! how bitter it was! It makes me sick to think of a dose of rhubarb,
+let me be ever so well. I am sure I would have rode horse all day--and all
+night, too, for that matter--rather than to have been doctored after that
+sort. But it cured my laziness pretty effectually, and it was a long time
+before I told another lie, too.
+
+"Honesty is the best policy," children, depend upon it, though there is
+another and a better reason, as you very well know, why you should always
+speak the truth.
+
+
+                              STORY SECOND.
+                  HOW A ROGUE FEELS WHEN HE IS CAUGHT.
+
+
+When I was a little boy, as near as I can recollect, about nine years of
+age, I went with my brother one bright Saturday afternoon, when there was
+no school, to visit at the house of Captain Perry. The captain was esteemed
+one of the kindest and best-natured neighbors in Willow Lane, where my
+father lived; and Julian, the captain's eldest son, very near my own age,
+was, among all the boys at school, my favorite play-fellow. Captain Perry
+had two bee-hives in his garden, where we were all three at play; and as I
+watched the busy little fellows at work bringing in honey from the fields,
+all at once I thought it would be a very fine thing to thrust a stick into
+a hole which I saw in one of the hives, and bring out some of the honey. My
+brother and Julian did not quite agree with me in this matter. They
+thought, as nearly as I can recollect, that there were three good reasons
+against this mode of obtaining honey: first, I should be likely to get
+pretty badly stung; secondly, the act would be a very mean and cowardly
+piece of mischief; and, thirdly, I should be found out.
+
+Still, I was bent on the chivalrous undertaking. I procured a stick of the
+right size, and marched up to the hive to make the attack. While I was
+deliberating, with the stick already a little way in the hole, whether I
+had better thrust it in suddenly, and then scamper away as fast as my legs
+could carry me, or proceed so deliberately that the bees would not suspect
+what was the matter, Captain Perry happened to come into the garden; and I
+was so busy with my mischief, that I did not notice him until he advanced
+within a rod or two of the bee-hives. He mistrusted what I was about.
+"Roderick," said he. I looked around. I am sure I would have given all I
+was worth in the world, not excepting my little pony, which I regarded as a
+fortune, if, by some magic or other, I could have got out of this scrape.
+But it was too late.  I hung my head down, as may be imagined, while the
+captain went on with his speech: "Roderick, if I were in your place (I
+heartily wished he was in my place, but I did not say so; I said nothing,
+in fact), if I were in your place, I would not disturb those poor, harmless
+bees, in that way.  If you should put that stick into the hive, as you were
+thinking of doing, it would take the bees a whole week to mend up their
+cells.  That is not the way we get honey. I don't wonder you are fond of
+honey, though. Children generally are fond of it; and if you will go into
+the house, Mrs Perry will give you as much as you wish, I am sure."
+
+This was twenty years ago--perhaps more.  I have met Captain Perry a
+hundred times since; yet even now I cannot look upon his frank, honest
+countenance, but I distinctly call to mind the Quixotic adventure with the
+bees, and I feel almost as much ashamed as I did when I was detected.
+
+
+                                STORY THIRD.
+                           THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER.
+
+
+I never shall forget what a sensation it used to produce in our family,
+years ago, when the newspaper came. We children--there were three of us,
+one brother and two sisters--used to watch for the post, on the
+all-important day, as anxiously as a cat ever watched for a mouse. Peter
+Packer, the bearer of these weekly dispatches, deserves a little notice. He
+was a queer man, at least he had that reputation in our neighborhood. As
+long as I can remember, he went his rounds; and, for aught I know, he is
+going to this day.
+
+Peter's old mare--she must be mentioned, for the two are almost
+inseparable--was as odd as he was. I should think she belonged to the same
+general class and order with Don Quixote's renowned Rosinante; but she had
+one peculiarity which is not put down in the description of Rosinante, to
+wit, the faculty of diagonal or oblique locomotion. This mare of Peter's
+went forward something after the manner of a crab, and a little like a ship
+with the wind abeam, as the sailors say. It was a standing topic of dispute
+among us boys, whether the animal went head foremost or not. But that did
+not matter much, so that she made her circuit--and she always did,
+punctually; that is, she always came some time or another. Sometimes she
+was a day or two later than usual; but this never occurred except in the
+summer season, and it was in this wise: she had a most passionate love for
+the practical study of botany; and not being allowed, when at home, to
+pursue her favorite science as often as she wished, owing partly to a want
+of specimens, and partly to her master's desire to educate her in the more
+solid branches, she frequently took the liberty to divest herself of her
+bridle, when standing at the door of her master's customers, and to gallop
+away in search of flowers. She was a great lover of botany, so much so,
+that, as I said before, her desire to obtain specimens sometimes interfered
+a little with her other literary engagements; and I am sure I can forgive
+her--
+
+  "For e'en her failings leaned to virtue's side."
+
+Just so it was with Peter himself. No storm, or tempest, or snow-bank,
+could detain him--that is, not longer than a day or two--in his weekly
+round. But he loved the theory of making money as much as his mare loved
+botany; and he was a practical student, too, and the road which he traveled
+afforded a good many opportunities both for extending his knowledge of that
+science and of practically applying his principles. So, between the two,
+our newspaper sometimes got thoroughly aired before it came to the house.
+But Peter was punctual--I insist upon it--for he always came some time or
+another.
+
+When the paper did come, we literally devoured its contents. With us it was
+an oracle. If the "Courier" affirmed or denied a thing, that was enough for
+us. It was an end to all debate. How confiding children are! He who has
+read "Robinson Crusoe" when a boy, finds it almost impossible to regard it
+a fable when he is a man. The newspaper, that makes its weekly visit to the
+family circle in the country, leaves the marks of its influence upon the
+mind and the morals of the child. It forms his tastes and controls his
+character. How careful, then, should parents be, in the selection of
+periodicals to be the companions of their children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               STORY FOURTH.
+                              THE CIDER PLOT.
+
+
+When I was an apprentice, some years ago, I lived--no matter where, and
+served--no matter whom. There were three apprentices besides myself; and it
+seems necessary to say, that, at the time when the incident happened which
+I am about to relate, we had neither of us completed that branch of
+husbandry called the sowing of wild oats; and as the soil was very
+favorable for the development of that species of grain, we were perhaps a
+little too industriously engaged in its cultivation. We were in great haste
+to have the oats all sowed in good season.
+
+One day our employer bought a cast of cider--Newark cider, I believe they
+called it--and the greater portion of it was nicely bottled, and placed in
+a dark corner of the cellar, to be used, not for making vinegar, or mince
+pies, but for a very different purpose--which may be surmised by such as
+remember that in those days the juice of the apple had a much better
+reputation than it has now. We were allowed our share of the beverage. But
+we were not satisfied. We resolved ourselves into a sort of committee of
+the whole, one afternoon; and after a long and somewhat spirited debate,
+came to the unanimous conclusion that, in the course of human events, it
+became necessary to employ the most effective measures to procure
+additional supplies from the cellar. Now it so happened, that these
+measures were not of the most peaceable and honorable kind. Such was their
+nature, in fact, that if we had been discovered in the act of resorting to
+them, it would no doubt have been deemed necessary, in the general course
+of human events, that we should be soundly whipped.
+
+The plan was to seize a bottle once in a while, something after the manner
+of privateers; though I believe the trade of privateering is regarded as
+piracy, now-a-days. How times are changed! We were to go on this expedition
+in rotation, from the oldest downward. We commenced, and two of us had
+performed the feat. It came George Reese's turn next. You didn't know
+George, I suppose. But I wish you had known him. I think you could
+appreciate the story better, if you knew him as well as I did. Well, George
+went down cellar, with his pitcher in his hand, thirsting for cider and
+glory. You must know that there was a flight of stairs that led directly to
+the cellar from the room we occupied. You should know, too, that we went
+down without a light, and felt our way in the dark. George had not been
+below two minutes, when we heard a report from the cellar very like the
+discharge of a pistol. It was loud enough to alarm the whole house. We were
+frightened. We had reason to be. Who knows, thought we, but they have set a
+spring-gun for us, and poor George is badly wounded? We waited in silence,
+and with not a little anxiety, for our hero to come up.
+
+He came at last, and a sorry looking fellow he was. He was covered from
+head to foot with yeast! The cook had placed her bottle of emptyings,
+tightly corked, in the village of cider bottles; and the truth flashed upon
+us at once, that George had made a mistake, and captured the wrong bottle;
+and the most of its contents, being a little angry at the time, were
+discharged into his face. But this was not all. George thought he had
+encountered a cider bottle, after all, for he could see nothing in the
+cellar, and he had poured what little remained of his yeast into the
+pitcher, and brought it up with him. When he made his appearance, there was
+such a noisy trio of laughter as that old kitchen had seldom heard before.
+This brought in the cook, and she laughed as loudly as the rest of us.
+Then, to crown all, the lady of the house, hearing the noise, came to see
+what we were all about; and she laughed the loudest of any body. I shall
+never forget the image of George Reese, as he entered that room. It gives
+me a pain in the side now, only to think of it.
+
+MORAL 1.--Before undertaking any enterprise similar to this cider-plot, it
+is desirable to count the cost.
+
+MORAL 2.--In your pursuit after glory, take care that you do not come in
+contact with something else that is not so pleasant.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              STORY FIFTH.
+                       MY FIRST HUNTING-EXCURSION.
+
+
+I shall never forget the first time I sallied out into the woods to try my
+hand at hunting. Carlo, the old family dog, went with me, and he was about
+as green in the matter of securing game as myself. We were pretty well
+matched, I think. I played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can
+recollect, and Carlo was a second Ralph. I had a most excellent
+fowling-piece--so they said. It began its career in the French war, and was
+a very veteran in service. Besides this ancient and honorable weapon, I was
+provided with all the means and appliances necessary for successful
+hunting. I was "armed and equipped as the law directs," to employ the words
+of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me to training.
+
+Well, it was sometime before we--Carlo and I--started any game. Wind-mills
+were scarce. For one, I began to fear we should have to return without any
+adventure to call forth our skill and courage. But the brightest time is
+often just before day, and so it was in this instance. Carlo began
+presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the leaves in the
+woods. Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of some kind, though I
+could not determine precisely what it was, on account of the underbrush.
+However, I satisfied myself that it was rare game, at any rate; and that
+point being settled, I took aim and fired.
+
+Carlo immediately ran to the poor victim. He was a courageous fellow, that
+Carlo, especially after the danger was over. Many a time I have known him
+make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by our house,
+though he generally took care not to insult them until they were at a
+convenient distance. Carlo had no notion of being killed, knowing very well
+that if he were dead, he could be of no service whatever to the world.
+Hudibras said well when he said,
+
+  "That he who fights and runs away,
+   May live to fight another day."
+
+[Illustration: RODERICK'S FIRST SHOT.]
+
+That was good logic. But Carlo went farther than this, even. He was for
+running away before he fought at all; and so he always did, except when the
+enemy ran away first, in which case he ran after him, as every chivalrous
+dog should. In the case of the animal which I shot at, Carlo bounded to his
+side when the gun was discharged, as I said before. For myself, I did not
+venture quite so soon, remembering that caution is the parent of safety. By
+and by, however, I mustered courage, and advanced to the spot. There lay
+the victim of my first shot! It was one of my father's sheep! Poor
+creature! She was sick, I believe, and went into a thicket, near a stream
+of water, where she could die in peace.
+
+I don't know whether I hit her or not. I didn't look to see, but ran home
+as fast as my legs would carry me. Thus ended the first hunting excursion
+in which I ever engaged, and, though I was a mere boy then, and am somewhat
+advanced now, it proved to be my last.
+
+
+
+
+
+                          SATURDAY IN WINTER.
+
+
+I.
+
+  Our tasks are all done, come away! come away!
+  For a right merry time--for a Saturday play.
+  See! the bright sun is shining right bravely on high;
+  Make haste, or he'll soon be half over the sky.
+  Come! first with our sleds down the glassy hill side,
+  And then on our skates o'er the river we'll glide.
+
+II.
+
+  Now, Harry! sit firm on your sled--here we go!
+  Swift--swift as an arrow let fly from a bow!
+  Hurrah! downward rushing, how gayly we speed,
+  Like an Arab away on his fleet-going steed.
+  Hurrah! bravely done! Down the icy hill side,
+  Swift--swift as an arrow, again let us glide.
+
+III.
+
+  And now for the river! How smooth and how bright,
+  Like a mirror it sleeps in the flashing sunlight.
+  Be sure, brother Harry, to strap your skates well;
+  Last time you remember how heavy you fell.
+  Now away! swift away! why, Harry! not down?
+  Are you hurt? You must take better care of your
+  crown.
+
+IV.
+
+  Up, up, my good brother! now steady! start fair!
+  Away we go! swift through the keen, frosty air.
+  Down again! Bless me, Harry! your skates can't be
+       right--
+  Just wait till I see--no--but now they are tight.
+  Here we go again! merry as school-boys can be,
+  From books, pens, and pencils, and black board, set free.
+
+V.
+
+  Tired, at last, of our sport, home to dinner we run,
+  And find that, two hours ago, dinner was done.
+  But our meat and potatoes we relish quite well,
+  Though cold--and the reason we scarcely need tell.
+  Five hours spent in scudding and skating, I ween,
+  'Twould give to such lads as we, appetites keen.
+
+VI.
+
+  At last the dim twilight succeeds to the day;
+  Our week's work is ended, and ended our play.
+  'Tis Saturday night, and we know with the morn,
+  Another dear Sabbath of rest will be born.
+  O'er wearied, we sink into slumber profound,
+  Assured that God's angels are watching around.
+
+
+
+
+
+                     ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.
+
+
+[Illustration: ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.]
+
+
+"Come, Rover!" said Harry, as he passed a fine old Newfoundland dog that
+lay on a mat at the door; "come, Rover! I am going down to the river to
+sail my boat, and I want you to go with me."
+
+Rover opened his large eyes, and looked lazily at his little master.
+
+"Come! Rover! Rover!"
+
+But the dog didn't care to move, and so Harry went off to the river side
+alone. He had not been gone a great while, before a thought of her boy came
+suddenly into the mother's mind. Remembering that he had a little vessel,
+and that the river was near, it occurred to her that he might have gone
+there.
+
+Instantly her heart began to throb with alarm.
+
+"Is Harry with you?" she called up to Harry's father, who was in his study.
+But Harry's father said he was not there.
+
+"I'm afraid he's gone to the river with his boat," said the mother.
+
+"To the river!" And Mr Lee dropped his pen, and came quickly down. Taking
+up his hat, he went hurriedly from the house. Rover was still lying upon
+the mat, with his head upon his paws and his eyes shut.
+
+"Rover!" said his master, in a quick, excited voice, "where is Harry? Has
+he gone to the river? Away and see! quick!"
+
+The dog must have understood every word, for he sprang eagerly to his feet,
+and rushed toward the river. Mr Lee followed as fast as he could run. When
+he reached the river bank, he saw his little boy in the water, with Rover
+dragging him toward the shore. He was just in time to receive the
+half-drowned child in his arms, and carry him home to his mother.
+
+Harry, who remained insensible, was placed in a warm bed. He soon, however,
+revived, and in an hour or two was running about again. But after this,
+Rover would never leave the side of his little master, when he wandered
+beyond the garden gate. Wherever you found Harry, there Rover was sure to
+be--sometimes walking by his side, and sometimes lying on the grass, with
+his big eyes watching every movement.
+
+Once Harry found his little vessel, which had been hidden away since he
+went with it to the river, and, without his mother's seeing him, he started
+again for the water. Rover, as usual, was with him. On his way to the
+river, he saw some flowers, and, in order to gather them, put his boat down
+upon the grass. Instantly Rover picked it up in his mouth, and walked back
+toward the house with it. After going a little way, he stopped, looked
+around, and waited until Harry had got his hand full of flowers. The child
+then saw that Rover had his boat, and tried to get it from him; but Rover
+played around him, always keeping out of his reach, and retreating toward
+the house, until he got back within the gate. Then he bounded into the
+house, and laid the boat at the feet of Harry's mother.
+
+Harry was a little angry with the good old dog, at first, but when his
+mother explained to him what Rover meant, he hugged him around the neck,
+and said he would never go down to the river again any more.
+
+Harry is a man now, and Rover has long since been dead; but he often thinks
+of the dear old dog that saved him from drowning when he was a child; and
+it gives him great pleasure to remember that he never beat Rover, as some
+boys beat their dogs, when they are angry, and was never unkind to him. Had
+it been otherwise, the thought would have given him great pain.
+
+
+
+
+                              SOMETHING WRONG.
+
+
+[Illustration: SOMETHING WRONG.]
+
+
+What's the matter here? There is something wrong. It is clear that the
+little boy in the picture is not receiving kind treatment at the hands of
+his sister. But what is she doing to him? Not pulling his ear, we hope.
+Something is wrong; what can it be? We must try and make it out. There is a
+whip and a top on the floor, and also a chair thrown down, to which a
+string is tied.
+
+The little boy, we suppose, was whipping his top, while his sister was
+playing with the chair.
+
+"Take care, now, Johnny," says the sister, as the lash of her brother's
+whip comes every little while close to her face; "take care, or you will
+cut me in the eyes."
+
+But Johnny either doesn't hear, or doesn't heed, and keeps on whipping his
+top.
+
+"There, now!" says Anna, "you came as near as could be to striking me. I
+wish you would go out into the passage or down into the dining-room with
+your top."
+
+"John," says mamma, looking up from her work, "you must be careful and not
+cut your sister with that whip."
+
+"No, ma'am," replies Johnny, and keeps on with his sport as carelessly as
+ever.
+
+Presently there is a cry, and then an angry exclamation. The lash of
+Johnny's whip has fallen with a smarting stroke on Anna's neck. The little
+girl, without waiting to reflect, follows the impulse of her feelings, and
+seeks to punish her brother by pinching and pulling his ears.
+
+This is the story of the picture, and we are sorry it will not bear a more
+favorable explanation.
+
+We do not think that any of our young readers will approve the conduct of
+either of the children. Undoubtedly, Johnny was wrong not to have been more
+careful how he threw his lash about. Anna had as much right to be in the
+room as he had, and if Johnny wanted to whip his top, it was his place to
+do it so cautiously as not in the least to endanger his sister's face and
+eyes; and he deserved to have his top taken from him as a punishment for
+his carelessness and indifference; and no doubt this was done by his
+mother.
+
+And Anna was wrong, likewise, for permitting her angry feelings to so carry
+her away as to lead her to hurt her brother, in revenge for what he had
+done to her. So, you see, Johnny's wrong act was the cause of a still
+greater departure from right in his sister. If Johnny had loved his sister,
+he would have been much more careful how he used his whip; and if Anna had
+loved her brother, she would never have been tempted to strike him or pull
+his ear, even if he had hurt her.
+
+It is a very sad thing for little brothers and sisters to quarrel with each
+other.
+
+  "Birds in their little nests agree,
+    And 'tis a shameful sight,
+  When children of one family,
+    Fall out, and chide, and fight."
+
+We hope, among all our little readers, there is not a brother and sister
+who have quarreled--who have ever called each other hard names--or, worse,
+who have ever lifted their tiny hands to hurt each other.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE FAVORITE CHILD.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FAVORITE CHILD.]
+
+
+In a very pretty little village not many miles from N----, in Connecticut,
+lived Susan Meredith. She was the youngest of three sisters, the eldest of
+whom could not be more than twelve or thirteen years of age. A year or two
+before the period when our history of this little group commences, the
+mother had gone to her rest.
+
+Weighed down with a sorrow too heavy to be borne, and of a nature too
+delicate to be confided to others, she sank under it while in the noon of
+life, and died commending her children to God. Susan--little Sue, as she
+was frequently called--young as she was, remembered a thousand incidents
+connected with the departed one, and seemed, so late as the time at which
+our story begins, to be never happier than when her mother was the theme of
+conversation.
+
+There was something remarkable in this. One reason for it might have been,
+that the surviving parent of these sisters, though once a kind and
+affectionate father, was now so altered by habits of intemperance, that
+they found very little enjoyment in his society. But there was another
+reason. Little Sue was an unusually thoughtful, serious child, for one of
+her years. Was there not another reason, still? I do not know. I cannot
+tell what words God may whisper to the child that loves him; but this I
+know, that little Sue talked much of heaven, and seemed to have learned
+more of the language of heaven than men can teach.
+
+One bright Saturday, in the early spring time, when there was no school,
+these sisters might have been seen winding their way through the woods, not
+far from the house where they lived, searching for the first wild flowers.
+Little Sue, the youngest, was very happy, but, as usual, more grave than
+the other sisters. By and by, wearied with their walk, they sat down under
+the shadow, of a tree, and talked a great while. At first, the conversation
+was about birds and flowers; but Sue soon gave a serious turn to it.
+
+"I wonder," said she, "if dear mother has pretty flowers in heaven. I hope
+so--she loved them so well. Do you remember the little monthly rose she
+wanted we should bring into her room, just before she died? How happy she
+was, when one of us went and brought it to her bed. And she went to heaven
+so soon after that! Oh, I think there must be flowers up there in the sky,
+or she would not have thought of them and loved them so, when she was
+dying. Don't you think so?"
+
+And she was silent. So were her sisters, awhile. Thoughts of heaven made
+them serious. They were sad, too. When the youngest--their darling
+Sue--conversed in this strain, a cloud always came over their sunny faces.
+They could scarcely tell why it was so; for they, too, loved to think of
+heaven. But the language of their sister seemed to them to belong to
+another world; and often, in the midst of their brightest hopes, would come
+the fear, like a thunderbolt, that God would crush that cherished flower,
+and remove her from their embrace while she was young.
+
+"Sue," at length said Eliza, the eldest sister, "why do you always talk so
+much about heaven?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply; "perhaps, because I think a good deal about
+it. I dreamed last night"----
+
+"Oh, I thought so," said Maria, playfully interrupting her sister; "I
+should think the little fairies were playing hide and seek all around your
+pillow every night. I wish they would whisper in my ears as they do in
+yours. Why, the naughty things hardly ever speak to me, and when they do,
+they tell a very different story from those they tell you. It is generally
+about falling down from a church steeple, or something of that kind. Well,
+what did they say to you this time, dear?"
+
+"I never had such a dream before," said the favorite, her face glowing with
+a new, almost an unearthly radiance; "I mean I never had one just like it.
+When dear mother died, you remember I told you a dream about the angels.
+Last night I thought they came to me again, and I saw mother, too, so
+clearly!"
+
+She stopped, and her eyes fell. She seemed almost sorry that she had said
+as much; for she had not forgotten that the former dream to which she
+alluded had caused her sisters pain, and she thought, that perhaps she
+should make them unhappy again, if she related her dream of the night
+before. But her sisters begged her to go on, and she did so.
+
+"When I went to sleep," said she, "I was thinking of--of--what father had
+said to me"--and she burst into a flood of tears. Her sisters wept, too;
+for they well remembered that their father had come home intoxicated that
+night, and that he had spoken very harshly to them all, and especially to
+the youngest. They could not say much to console her. What could they say?
+Silently they wept, and by their tears and embraces they told her how
+deeply they sympathized with her, and how much they would do for her, if
+they could. When the little dreamer was able to go on, she said,
+
+"I was thinking about this when I went to sleep. I thought I was crying,
+and wondering why God should let dear mother die, and leave us all alone,
+when I heard some one say, 'Look up,' I looked up in the sky, and all the
+stars were windows, and I saw through them. I saw heaven--so beautiful--so
+beautiful! I saw mother looking out of one of these windows, and she
+smiled, as she did when we brought the rose to her bed-side. I heard her
+call my name, and she reached her arms toward me, and said, 'You may come,'
+Oh, this was not like other dreams"----
+
+"Don't think of it, dear sister; don't think of it any more," said Eliza.
+"You was not well last night, and I have often heard, that when people are
+ill, their dreams are more apt to be disturbed. But we will not say any
+more about it now, dear."
+
+"No," said Maria; "we shall all feel too sad, if we do." And she made an
+effort to be cheerful; though tears stood in her eyes as she spoke.
+
+"I don't know why it makes others feel sad to think of heaven," said the
+favorite. "I should love dearly to go there."
+
+"But then it is so dreadful to die!"
+
+"I know it; but mother was so happy when she died!"
+
+"Would you be willing to leave your sisters, dear Sue?"
+
+"No; not unless I could see my mother and Christ. Oh, I do love Christ more
+than all the rest of my friends! Do you think that is wrong?"
+
+The three sisters slowly and thoughtfully bent their steps homeward, and
+just as the sun was setting, and the western clouds were spread with the
+beauty and glory of twilight, they entered that cottage which, though the
+abode of sorrow, was yet dear and sacred to them, because it was once the
+home of their mother.
+
+From that time, the gentle, loving, thoughtful little Sue, faded--faded as
+a flower in the autumn wind. She had not been well for weeks; and soon it
+was evident that she was rapidly declining. Was her dream a cause or an
+effect--a cause of her decline, or an effect of an illness already preying
+upon her frail system? Perhaps we cannot tell. There is something very
+remarkable about many dreams. It is not easy to account for them all, by
+what is known of the laws of the mind. But we must not stop now to inquire
+into this matter.
+
+Step by step, that cherished sister went downward to the grave; and before
+the summer had come, while the early violet and the pure anemone were still
+in bloom, God called her home. Peacefully and beautifully her sun went
+down. "They have come," she said. So died the youngest--the favorite child.
+
+
+
+
+                                THE MINE.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MINE.]
+
+
+There  are three kingdoms in nature--the Mineral kingdom, the Vegetable
+kingdom, and the Animal kingdom--the former for the sake of the latter, and
+all for the sake of man. Without the Vegetable kingdom animals could not
+exist, and without the Mineral kingdom vegetables could not exist.
+
+It is also worthy of remark, that in all the inferior kingdoms of nature,
+there is an image of what is superior. The lowest of all the kingdoms is
+the Mineral kingdom, where every thing takes a fixed form, and where all
+changes are the work of centuries, instead of days and months, as in the
+Vegetable and Animal kingdoms. Yet, in this dull, inert kingdom, we find a
+certain image of the one next above, in the upright or orderly forms into
+which many of its substances arrange themselves. Under circumstances of
+more than usual freedom, particles of matter in this kingdom will assume
+shapes so nearly resembling those of the Vegetable kingdom, that many were
+at first disposed to conclude that they were mere petrifactions; as in the
+case of formations at the bottom of the ocean, and those that take place in
+caverns. But we will not wonder at this, when we remember, that the use of
+the Mineral kingdom is to sustain the Vegetable kingdom, in order that the
+latter may sustain the Animal kingdom. Use, it must be remembered, is the
+great law that pervades, sustains, and holds in harmonious order, the whole
+universe.
+
+In the Vegetable kingdom we see a still nearer approach to man. There is
+motion and life--not conscious life, but a kind of insensible existence.
+Nearly all the members of this kingdom elevate themselves toward heaven,
+and stand upright, like men.
+
+In the Animal kingdom there is still greater perfection of life and
+freedom. Beasts move over the earth, birds fly through the air, and fishes
+change their places, at will, in the sea. This is the highest and most
+perfect kingdom, and it is for the sake of this that the others exist. And,
+as was just said, all three are for the sake of man. They go to sustain his
+natural life, while he remains in this world.
+
+The variety and beauty in the two higher kingdoms are displayed to the eyes
+of all. But the wonders of the Mineral kingdom are hidden beneath the
+surface. Mines have to be opened, in order to obtain the metals and
+precious stones that the earth hides in her bosom; and man can only obtain
+them through hard and patient labor. Hundreds of feet below the surface of
+the ground, the miner, with no light to direct his labor but that given him
+by his dimly burning safety-lamp, toils on, unconscious of the day's
+opening or decline. The sun does not rise nor set for him. He is not warned
+by the home-returning bee, the dimly falling shadows of evening, nor the
+sudden cry of the night-bird, that the hour of rest has come. But the body
+cannot endure labor beyond a certain number of hours. Tired nature calls
+for repose, and the call must be obeyed. Even the miner must have his hours
+of rest; and then he comes forth, it may be, from his gloomy place of
+labor, once more into the sunlight; or sinks to sleep in the dark chambers
+where he toils for bread.
+
+When you look at a piece of metal, whether it be gold, silver, copper, or
+iron, remember that it has been won from its hidden place, deep in the
+solid earth, by the hard labor of man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               THE MINER.
+
+
+  Down where the daylight never comes
+    Toileth the miner on;
+  He sees not the golden morning break--
+    He sees not the setting sun.
+
+  Dimly his lamp in the dark vault burns,
+    And he sits on the miner's hard floor,
+  Toiling, toiling, toiling on;
+    Toiling for precious ore!
+
+  The air is wet; for the dew and rain,
+    Drank by the thirsty ground,
+  Have won their way to his dark retreat,
+    And are trickling all around---
+
+  And sickly vapors are near his lips,
+    And close to his wire-net lamp,
+  Unseen, as an evil spirit comes,
+    Up stealeth the dread fire-damp!
+
+  But the miner works on, though death is by,
+    And fears not the monster grim;
+  For the wiry gauze, round his steady light,
+    Makes a safety-lamp for him.
+
+  Rough and rude, and of little worth,
+    Seems the ore that the miner brings
+  From the hidden places where lie concealed
+    Earth's rare and precious things;
+
+  But, tried awhile in the glowing fire,
+    It is rough and rude no more;
+  Art moulds the iron, and forms the gold,
+    And fashions the silver ore.
+
+  And useful, rare, and beautiful things,
+    'Neath the hand of skill arise:
+  Oh! a thousand thousand human wants
+    The miner's toil supplies!
+
+
+
+
+                            VISIT TO FAIRY LAND.
+
+
+So, then, you want to hear some stories about the fairies, do you, little
+girl? Well, I must humor you a little, I suppose; though I should not
+wonder if my fairy stories were somewhat different from those you have
+heard before. But have you the least idea that there were ever such beings
+as the fairies in the world? If you have, let me tell you, you are quite
+mistaken. The stories that have been told about these fairy people are none
+of them worthy of belief, though it must be admitted that millions have
+believed them. Many of the men and women who pretended to have seen the
+fairies, and who related the stories in the first place, believed all they
+said, I have no doubt. But they were generally ignorant persons, very
+superstitious, and easily imposed upon. There are, it is true, invisible
+inhabitants in this world. Those who believe the Bible, can hardly doubt
+the presence of angels among us. But angels, as they are represented in the
+Scriptures, are a very different class of spirits from those called
+fairies, if we may credit what has been said of this singular race of
+beings, by those who pretend to have seen them in fairy land.
+
+Not a great while ago, the people of England and Scotland were very
+superstitious. It is not two centuries since our good forefathers on that
+island were burning witches by scores. At that time, a great many believed
+in the existence of fairies, or elves. I have been at some pains to find
+out at what time this fairy superstition first appeared among the Britons.
+But it seems not very easy to determine. One thing is certain, that the
+belief in some kind of spirits--either the same with the fairies, under a
+different name, or very nearly related to them--dates back to a very early
+period in British history--earlier, probably, than the Christian era.
+
+The fairies are always represented as very small and very
+beautiful--generally, as perfect miniatures of the human form. The color of
+their dress is uniformly pure green. It would seem, according to the
+accounts of these people, some five or six hundred years ago, that they
+were kind, amiable, excellent neighbors. Indeed, one of the names they went
+by was, "the Good Neighbors," and another was, "the Men of Peace." Still,
+they used to do some mischief in those days, if we may believe their
+historians, who tell us that the fairies, once in a while, visited the
+abodes of men, and carried away captives into their invisible haunts, under
+ground. The reason for this kidnapping of human beings was said to be, that
+the fairies were obliged occasionally to pay a tribute of this kind to
+their king or queen.
+
+The fairies were not always cunning enough to keep their victims, after
+they had caught them. Sometimes people would come back from fairy land, and
+tell all about what they had seen there. You might suppose that a great
+deal would be learned of these strange, invisible creatures, from the men
+and women who had been with them and escaped. Well, so there was. But the
+worst of it was, the stories did not hang together very well; and there
+were about as many different and contradictory accounts of fairydom as
+there were different individuals who pretended to have made a visit to that
+country. However, all seemed to agree that fairy land was a very merry
+country. The people there were great lovers of fun, according to the
+general testimony, and used to dance a great deal by moonlight, in the open
+air. They are engaged in one of their dances, you see, in the engraving.
+Every evening, as soon as the moon rose, they assembled at some convenient
+place, took hold of each other's hands, usually in a ring, I think, and
+then they had a right merry time of it, you may depend. It did not seem to
+make any difference, whether the spot selected for the dance was on the
+land or on the sea. Indeed, they could dance pretty well in the air,
+without any thing to stand upon. The assemblies held in the palaces of the
+king and queen of the fairies, were, at times, splendid in the extreme. No
+poet, in his most lofty flights of fancy, ever dreamed of such beauty and
+splendor as were exhibited at the fairy court. They rode on milk-white
+steeds. Their dresses were of brilliant green, and were rich beyond
+conception. When they mingled in the dance, or moved in procession among
+the shady groves, or over the delightful meadows, covered with the fairest
+of flowers, music, such as mortal lips cannot utter, floated on the breeze.
+
+However, these splendors, astonishing as they were, all vanished in a
+moment, whenever the eye of any one gifted with the power of spiritual
+communion was turned upon them. Then their treasures of gold and silver
+became slate-stones, and their stately halls were turned into damp caverns.
+They themselves, instead of being the beautiful creatures they were before,
+became ugly as a hedge-fence.
+
+The king of fairy land was called _Oberon_--the queen, _Titania_.
+The king used to wear a crown of jewels on his head, and he always carried
+a horn in his hand, which set every body around him to dancing, whenever he
+blew it. Ben Jonson, a poet who flourished a great many years ago, speaks
+very respectfully of fairies and elves, in his poems. In describing the
+haunts of his "Sad Shepherd," he says--
+
+
+  "There, in the stocks of trees, white fays do dwell,
+   And span-long elves that dance about a pool."
+
+
+Shakspeare, too, in several of his plays, makes us quite familiar with the
+fairy people. Shakspeare, you are aware, wrote in the time of Elizabeth,
+and as late as that period, there were thousands in England and Scotland in
+whose creed the existence of such a race of spirits was a very important
+article. It was not long, however, after this, before the superstition
+about the fairies--which, at the worst, was a very foolish affair--began to
+decline. But that decline brought a dark night to thousands of poor,
+innocent men and women; for then came the era of witchcraft, and persons of
+every rank, convicted of this imaginary crime, were hurried to the scaffold
+or the stake.
+
+In the beginning of the seventeenth century, Dr. Corbett, Bishop of Oxford
+and Norwich, wrote a very humorous satire on the fairy superstition, called
+"The Fairies' Farewell, a proper new ballad to be sung or whistled to the
+tune of Meadow Brow." Perhaps I cannot better take leave of these very
+curious imaginary people, than to employ a couple of stanzas from the
+bishop's playful ballad:
+
+
+  "Witness those rings and roundelays
+     Of theirs, which yet remain,
+   Were footed in Queen Mary's days,
+     On many a grassy plain;
+   But since of late Elizabeth,
+     And later James came in,
+   They never danced on any heath,
+     As when the time hath been.
+
+  "By which we note the fairies
+     Were of the old profession;
+   Their songs were Ave Marias,
+     Their dances were processions;
+  But now, alas! they all are dead,
+    Or gone beyond the seas,
+  Or further for religion fled,
+    Or else they take their ease."
+
+
+
+
+                              THE HERMIT.
+
+
+A Traveler was once passing through a great wilderness, in which he
+supposed no human being dwelt. But, while riding along in its gloomiest
+part, he was surprised to see a hermit, his face covered with a long
+beard, that hung down upon his breast, sitting on a stone at the
+entrance of what seemed a cave.
+
+The hermit arose as the traveler drew up his horse, and speaking kindly to
+him, invited him to accept such refreshment as it was in his power to
+offer. The traveler did not refuse, but, dismounting, tied his horse to a
+tree, and, following the pious man, entered the narrow door of a little
+cave which nature had formed in the side of a mountain. All the hermit had
+to set before the traveler, was water from a pure stream that came merrily
+leaping down the hill side, and some wild fruit and nuts.
+
+"Tell me," said the traveler, after he had eaten, "why a man with a sound
+body, such as you possess, and a sound mind, should hide away from his
+fellow-men, in a dreary wild like this?"
+
+"For pious meditation and repentance," replied the hermit. "All is vanity
+in the world. Its beauties charm but to allure from heaven. And worse than
+this, it is full of evil. Turn where you will, pain, sorrow, and crime meet
+your eyes. But here, in the silence of nature, there is nothing to draw the
+mind from holy thoughts; there is no danger of falling into temptation. By
+pious meditation and prayer, we are purified and made fit for heaven."
+
+"Not so," answered the traveler; "pious meditation and prayer are of no
+avail without good be done to our fellow-men. Piety is nothing without
+charity; and charity consists in willing well and doing well to our
+neighbors. 'And now abideth faith, hope, and charity,' says the Apostle,
+'but the greatest of these is charity,' Hermit, you are not wise thus to
+retire from the midst of the busy world. Your service cannot be acceptable
+to God. Go back again among your fellow-men, and faithfully perform your
+real duties in life. Heal the sick, comfort the mourner, bind up the broken
+heart, and in the various walks of life do good to friend and enemy.
+Without this, how can you hope in the judgment to hear the Lord say, 'As
+much as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me?'"
+
+The hermit, at such unexpected words, bowed his head, and was silent. The
+traveler went on, and said--
+
+"You have committed a common error, in supposing that in holy meditation,
+as it is called, there was any thing particularly pleasing to God. But
+reason will tell you why the widow's mite is more acceptable in heaven than
+the most pious thoughts of idle self-righteousness. Hermit! go back again
+into the world, and there act your part as a man in the great social body.
+Only by this means will you be prepared to live and act in the great body
+of angels in heaven."
+
+The hermit could not reply, but still sat with his head bowed to his bosom,
+and his eyes upon the ground. The words of the stranger fell with strokes
+of reproof upon his heart.
+
+When the traveler returned that way, he sought for the hermit, but found
+him not at the door of his cave. He entered, but the place had been a long
+time deserted. The erring man had gone back into the world, and taken his
+place among his fellows. And he had done right. No man is wise who retires
+from society, and shuts himself up in the hope of becoming better through
+prayer and pious thoughts. Only by doing our duty to our fellow-men, in
+some particular pursuit in life, can we hope to grow better and wiser?
+
+
+
+
+                               A PICTURE.
+
+
+[Illustration: A PICTURE.]
+
+
+What have we here? That kind-looking old gentleman must have something for
+these children; his hand is in his pocket, and they are all gathering
+around him. I wonder who he is, and what he is going to give them?
+
+"He's their uncle, may be."
+
+"Or their grandfather."
+
+"Or somebody else that is kind to children."
+
+No doubt of it in the world. He is some one who likes children, you may be
+sure. And I suppose he's got a pocket full of sugar-plums or nuts for his
+favorites. The little girl who has seized his cane, I rather think, will
+get the largest share; but I don't suppose her young companions will be at
+all displeased at this, for no doubt she is a very good girl, and beloved
+by all. Indeed, if we may judge by the faces of the children, not one of
+them will look at what the other receives, to see if he has not obtained
+the largest share.
+
+This is not always so, however. I know some little boys and girls, who,
+when their parents, relatives, or friends give them cakes, candies, or
+playthings, immediately look from what they have themselves to what the
+others have received, and, if one thinks his share smaller or inferior,
+becomes dissatisfied, and, from a jealous and envious spirit, sacrifices
+his own pleasure and that of all the rest. Because there is a square inch
+more of cake in his brother's piece, that which he has doesn't taste good.
+If he have one sugar-plum less than the others, they become tasteless, and
+he throws them all, perhaps, upon the floor.
+
+How bad all this looks, and how very bad it really is! The friends of such
+children are never encouraged to make them presents. They rather avoid
+doing so; for they know that their greedy, envious, covetous spirit, will
+turn the good things they would offer them into causes of strife and
+unhappiness.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE BOY AND THE ROBIN.
+
+
+I.
+
+  So now, pretty robin, you've come to my door;
+  I wonder you never have ventured before:
+  'Tis likely you thought I would do you some harm;
+  But pray, sir, what cause have you seen for alarm?
+
+II.
+
+  You seem to be timid--I'd like to know why--
+  Did I ever hurt you? What makes you so shy?
+  You shrewd little rogue, I've a mind, ere you go,
+  To tell you a thing it concerns you to know.
+
+III
+
+  You think I have never discovered your nest;
+  'Tis hid pretty snugly, it must be confessed.
+  Ha! ha! how the boughs are entwined all around!
+  No wonder you thought it would never be found.
+
+IV.
+
+  You're as cunning a robin as ever I knew;
+  And yet, ha! ha! ha! I'm as cunning as you!
+  I know all about your nice home on the tree--'Twas
+  nonsense to try to conceal it from me.
+
+V.
+
+  I know--for but yesterday I was your guest--
+  How many young robins there are in your nest;
+  And pardon me, sir, if I venture to say,
+  They've had not a morsel of dinner to-day.
+
+VI.
+
+  But you look very sad, pretty robin, I see,
+  As you glance o'er the meadow, to yonder green tree;
+  I fear I have thoughtlessly given you pain,
+  And I will not prattle so lightly again.
+
+VII.
+
+  Go home, where your mate and your little ones dwell;
+  Though I know where they are, yet I never will tell;
+  Nobody shall injure that leaf-covered nest,
+  For sacred to me is the place of your rest.
+
+VIII.
+
+  Adieu! for you want to be flying away,
+  And it would be cruel to ask you to stay;
+  But come in the morning, come early, and sing,
+  For dearly I love you, sweet warbler of spring.
+
+
+
+
+                      SOMETHING ABOUT CONSCIENCE:
+                         OR MR MASON'S STORY.
+
+
+Two little boys, Robert and Samuel, were one day assisting the gardener
+about some flower-beds. They were rather young to be of much service to the
+old man, and gave him some trouble, once in a while, by the clumsy way in
+which they did their work. Still, they meant to please the gardener, and he
+ought not to have got out of patience, if they did now and then make a
+blunder. Well, he was usually very patient and kind; but that day, for some
+reason or another, things did not go right with him at all. Pianos and
+violins, though they sometimes make sweet music, get out of tune
+occasionally, and then, no matter what you try to play on them, nothing
+sounds well. It is so with men and women too often; and with boys and
+girls, too, it is to be feared. At any rate, it was so with Mr Mason's
+gardener, at the time I speak of. He was peevish and fretful, and said some
+harsh things to Robert, because he accidentally destroyed a fine tulip with
+his spade. Robert cried, and said he did not mean to do it. Then the old
+man was sorry, but, probably feeling too proud to confess it, he was silent
+for a long time. By and by, however, he told Robert that his conscience
+troubled him on account of his speaking so unkindly, and he hoped the
+little boy would forgive him. So you see the gardener was a good man,
+although he was hasty at that time. Robert cheerfully forgave him, and
+things went on a good deal better. The boys tried to be more careful, and
+the gardener tried to be more patient.
+
+[Illustration: THE GARDENER REPROVING ROBERT.]
+
+Robert thought a good deal about the old man's mention of conscience, and
+when he saw his father, he asked him what the conscience meant.
+
+Robert's father liked to have his children make such inquiries, and did all
+that he could to encourage them in doing so.
+
+"There are two ways, Robert," said he, "of explaining things. One is by
+telling what they are, directly, and the other is by telling what they do.
+I find that my children generally like the last of these methods better
+than they do the first; and I am not sure but, on the whole, it is quite as
+good as the other. At any rate, I shall try to describe conscience by
+pointing out some of its effects. In other words, I shall tell you a story.
+Some twenty-five years ago--it may be thirty; how time slides away!--I knew
+a boy who had one of the kindest of mothers, but whose father had died
+before his recollection. I think--indeed I know--he loved his mother,
+though he was sometimes thoughtless, and once in a while disobedient. One
+day, in midsummer, when the blackberries were ripe in the woods, and the
+trout were sporting merrily in the brook, Charles--for that was the name of
+the boy--came running to his mother, all out of breath, and said that
+Joseph Cone and Charley Corson had come with their baskets and fish-lines,
+and wanted he should go with them. 'Oh, such fine times as they are going
+to have, mother! Mayn't I go? Blackberries are ripe now, and there are lots
+of them over in Mr Simpson's woods. And oh! such splendid trout! One of the
+boys caught a trout last Saturday, so big that he couldn't hardly pull it
+out of the water! Oh, I _do_ want to go, mother! I'll bring home a
+fine string of trout--I know I will. Ha! ha! ha!' And Charley danced up and
+down the room, and clapped his hands, and laughed very loudly at the idea,
+I suppose, of his outwitting the simple little fish."
+
+Robert laughed, too, when his father came to this part of the story, and
+said he thought that was something like counting the chickens before they
+were hatched.
+
+"Yes," continued Mr Mason; "but I am afraid that was not the worst of it,
+by a good deal; for Charles knew well enough that his mother wanted him at
+home that day, and he ought not to have urged her so hard. 'My dear,' said
+that kind, indulgent lady, 'I will let you do just as you choose about
+going. You know I want you to help me about the house to-day, and I should
+be very sorry to have you leave me. But I don't wish to govern you by
+force. I want to see you mind because you love me--not because you are
+obliged to. So I shall not say any more. Do as you please, this time.'
+
+"Charles thought a moment or two. He saw plainly enough that there were two
+sides to the question about going a-fishing that day. His mother was not
+very well. He thought of that; and he thought that if he went, she would
+have more work to do, and perhaps she would then be quite sick. His
+conscience was at work, you see. 'Well,' he thought, 'I guess I will let
+the trout stay where they are to-day,' But just then he heard one of the
+boys say, 'Halloo, Charley! what do you say? We're tired of waiting. Shall
+we go without you, or will you come along?'
+
+"Well, what do you think Charley did, Robert?"
+
+"Why, he stayed at home, and helped his mother, of course."
+
+"No, I'm sorry to say that he changed his mind, and started off with the
+boys. His conscience said _no_, but his will said _yes_."
+
+"Then he did very wrong."
+
+"So I think. But the truth must be told. Charley took his fishing
+apparatus, and whistled for his little dog, Caper, and away the three boys
+ran, toward the brook.
+
+"'Let's go to the deep hole under the elm tree. That's where Bill Havens
+caught the big trout, the other day,' said one.
+
+"Bill Havens, as they called him, was one of the most noted fishermen in
+the place. I knew him well. He was always sure to succeed, wherever and
+whenever he went out with his hook and line. I have been to this deep hole
+with Bill Havens, more than once, and have seen him catch half a dozen
+large pickerel, when I could not, by any of my skill, persuade a single
+fish to come out of the brook.
+
+[Illustration: BILL HAVENS AT THE DEEP HOLE.]
+
+"'But we shall have to cross the brook,' said Charley, 'and how in the
+world are we going to do that? The foot-bridge was swept away by the
+freshet, you know.'
+
+"'Oh, I'll see about that. I know where there's an old tree that lies clear
+across the stream. We can get over on that, just as well as we could over
+the foot-bridge,'
+
+"And so they started for the old tree, which was to serve them for a
+bridge. It had been blown down by the wind, and had fallen across the
+stream, so that the large end rested on the side where the boys were, while
+the upper limbs reached the opposite bank. When the boys got to the tree,
+they saw that it was not quite so convenient a bridge as they could wish;
+and Charley Mason, who was not by any means a headstrong lad, and not used
+to such adventures, said he would rather not attempt to cross it. But the
+other two boys laughed at him, and told him not to be a coward; and he
+finally determined he would venture, if the others succeeded. They did
+succeed, and Charley, not without some trembling--which, of course, made
+his danger the greater--prepared to follow. 'Take care, Charley! take care!
+Rather dangerous business, isn't it? Cling closely to the tree. There--so.
+Don't look down into the water, or you'll be dizzy. That's the way. Come
+on, now. Don't hang on to that dry limb! It will break and let you fall
+into the water, if you do. How the poor fellow trembles! _Plash_!
+There he goes, I declare!'
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES CROSSING THE BROOK.]
+
+"Sure enough, Charles had slipped and fallen into the stream! and his
+companions, so frightened that they hardly knew what they did, took to
+their heels, and ran as fast as they could toward home!"
+
+"Poor Charley! he was drowned, then?" said Robert.
+
+"No, he managed to get out of the water; but he had a hard time of it,
+though. He could not swim very well, at the best; and with all his clothes
+on, it was as much as he could do to swim at all. If the river had been a
+little wider, he never could have got out alone. As it was, however, by the
+help of some rocks there were in the brook, he reached the shore, pretty
+thoroughly exhausted, and not a little frightened. His zeal for
+trout-fishing was by this time a good deal cooled off, as you may suppose.
+The nearest he came to catching any of those cunning little fellows that
+day, was when he tumbled into the brook; and then he had something else to
+think of.
+
+"There he was, alone, wet as a drowned rat, and shivering, partly from cold
+and partly from fright, as if he had the ague. Poor fellow! His conscience
+began to be heard again, now he had time to think. He hardly knew what to
+do; he was ashamed to go home to his mother; and there he stood, for a good
+while, leaning his head on the fence near the water, the tears all the time
+chasing each other down his cheeks."
+
+"I don't wonder he cried," said Robert; "but I can't help laughing to think
+what a sorry figure he must have made there, on the bank! And he was going
+to bring home such a nice string of fish, too! I wonder if his mother did
+not laugh when she saw him coming. Did he stay there, father, shivering and
+crying, till some body came after him?"
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES, AFTER THE DUCKING.]
+
+"No, he started for home before any of the neighbors reached the spot where
+he fell into the river; and, as they missed him on the way, they supposed
+he was drowned, and searched for his body half an hour or more, till they
+learned he was safe at home."
+
+"Well, what did his mother say to him, father?"
+
+"She did not say much, poor woman. She was not well, as I said before, when
+Charles left her; and as her servant had gone away for a week, and she had
+no one but him to assist her in her work, she became very much fatigued;
+and when she heard that Charles had fallen into the river, she fainted
+immediately. She had hardly recovered when the boy reached the house."
+
+"I think Charles was a very bad boy."
+
+"Not so much worse than many others, perhaps, as you may suppose. You judge
+of the boy's conduct by the consequences of it. If he had been successful
+in his trout-fishing, and no accident had happened to his mother, you would
+not have thought half as much of his guilt in acting contrary to his
+mother's wishes."
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"But the boy would have been just as bad, for all that."
+
+"I can't see how, father."
+
+"Why, the boy, when he was thinking what he would do about going on that
+fishing excursion, could not have foreseen all that would happen if he
+went. Do you think he could?"
+
+"No, sir, not all, I suppose. But I am sure he was a very bad boy, whether
+he knew what would happen or not."
+
+"Yes, no doubt. But I want you to see exactly where his guilt lay. It was
+simply in his not yielding to his mother's wish, when she so kindly left
+him at liberty to do as he chose; especially as he knew she was ill, and
+needed his assistance."
+
+"Charley deserved a good whipping."
+
+"Well, he _was_ punished severely."
+
+"Did his mother punish him?"
+
+"No, for weeks she was too ill for that; and if she had been well, probably
+she would not have punished him."
+
+"How did he get punished?"
+
+"By his own conscience. He felt that he had done wrong, and that made him
+very unhappy. He saw, then, that he had been very unkind to his mother, and
+that his unkindness cost her pain and sorrow. He would rather have given
+all his playthings--every one of his toys--than to feel as he did then.
+Indeed, I think he would prefer the severest punishment from his mother, to
+the wound which his conscience inflicted. Do you understand now, my son,
+what is meant by conscience?"
+
+"I think I do. When we are sorry for any thing we have done, it is the
+conscience that makes us feel so."
+
+"Not always. Charles was no doubt very sorry he had tried to cross the
+river on the tree, because he fell into the water, and came near being
+drowned. But the conscience had nothing to do with this sorrow. When we see
+that we have carelessly or wilfully injured some one--hurt his feelings,
+perhaps--or when we reflect that we have disobeyed God, and feel grieved
+and sorry on this account, then the conscience is the cause of our pain. So
+you see that it is one of the numerous proofs of the wisdom and the
+goodness of God, that he has given mankind a conscience. Take care, my son,
+that you listen to its voice."
+
+
+
+
+                                 OLD NED.
+
+
+Not many years ago, Farmer Jones had an old horse named "Ned," who appeared
+to have almost as much sense as some people. Ned was a favorite with his
+master, who petted him as if he were a child instead of a dumb animal. The
+horse seemed to understand every word that the farmer said to him, and
+would obey him quite as readily and with as much intelligence as Rover, the
+house dog. If his master came into the field where he was grazing, Ned
+would come galloping up to meet him, and then caper round as playfully,
+though not, it must be owned, as gracefully, as a kitten.
+
+Farmer Jones, on these occasions, generally had an ear or two of corn in
+his pocket; and Ned, whose nose had been many a time in that capacious
+receptacle of odds and ends, after sweeping around his master two or three
+times, would stop short and come sideling up, half coquetishly, yet with a
+knowing twinkle in his eye, and commence a search for the little tidbit
+that he had good reason for knowing lay snugly stored away in the pocket.
+
+[Illustration: OLD NED.]
+
+If any one besides his master went into the field and tried to catch Ned,
+he was sure to have a troublesome time of it; and if he succeeded in his
+object before circling the field a dozen times in pursuit of the horse, he
+might think himself lucky. But a word or a motion of the hand from Farmer
+Jones was all-sufficient. Ned would become, instantly, as docile as a
+child, trot up to his side, and stand perfectly still to receive the saddle
+and bridle.
+
+When Farmer Jones was on the back of Ned, or sitting behind him in the old
+chaise, no horse could be more even in his gait, or more orderly in all his
+movements. But it wasn't safe for any one else to try the experiment of
+riding or driving him. If he escaped without a broken neck, he might think
+himself exceedingly fortunate; for the moment any one but his master
+attempted to govern his actions in any way, he became possessed with a
+spirit that was sometimes more than mischievous. He would kick up, bite,
+wheel suddenly around, rear up on his hind feet, and do almost every thing
+except go ahead in an orderly way, as a respectable horse ought to have
+done.
+
+Ned was too great a favorite with his master for the latter to think of
+trying very hard to correct him of these bad practices. He would talk to
+him, sometimes, about the folly of an old horse like him prancing about,
+and cutting up as many antics as a young colt; but his words, it was clear,
+went into one of Ned's ears and out of the other, as people say, for Ned
+did not in the least mend his manners, although he would nod his head in a
+knowing and obedient way, while his master was talking to him.
+
+Ned spent at least two thirds of his time, from the period when the grass
+sprung up, tender and green, until it became pale and crisp with frost, in
+a three-acre field belonging to his master, where he ate, walked about,
+rolled himself on the soft sward, or slept away the hours, as happy as a
+horse could be. Across one corner of this field a little boy and his sister
+used every day to go to school. The little boy was a namesake of the horse;
+but he was usually called Neddy. One day Neddy felt rather mischievous, as
+little boys will feel sometimes. He had a long willow switch in his hand,
+and was cutting away at every thing that came within his reach. He
+frightened a brood of chickens, and laughed merrily to see them scamper in
+every direction; he made an old hog grunt, and a little pig squeal, and was
+even so thoughtless as to strike with his slender switch a little lamb,
+that lay close beside its mother on the soft grass.
+
+"Don't, don't, Neddy," Jane, his sister, would say.
+
+But the little fellow gave no heed to her words. At last, in crossing the
+field, they came to where the old horse lay under the shade of a great
+walnut tree. The temptation to let him have a taste of the switch was too
+strong for Neddy to resist; so he passed up close to the horse, and gave
+him a smart cut across the shoulders.
+
+Now that was an indignity to which the old fellow was not prepared to
+submit. Why, it was at least ten years since the stroke of a whip had been
+felt upon his glossy skin. Whip and spur were of the times long since gone
+by. Springing up as quickly as if he were only a colt instead of a grave
+old horse, Ned elevated his mane, and swept angrily around the now
+frightened lad, neighing fiercely, and striking out into the air with his
+heels at a furious rate. Jane and Neddy ran, but the horse kept up, and by
+his acts threatening every moment to kill them. But, angry as the old
+fellow was, he did not really intend to harm the children, who at length
+reached the fence toward which they were flying. Jane got safely over, but
+just as Neddy was creeping through the bars, the horse caught hold of his
+loose coat, with his teeth, and pulled him back into the field, where he
+turned him over and over on the grass with his nose for half a dozen times,
+but without harming him in the least, and then let him go, and went
+trotting back to the cool, shady place under the old walnut tree, from
+which the switch of the thoughtless boy had aroused him.
+
+Neddy, you may be sure, was dreadfully frightened, and went crying home. On
+the next day, when they came to the field in which Ned lived at his ease
+and enjoyed himself, the old horse was grazing in a far-off corner, and the
+children thought they might safely venture to cross over. But they had only
+gained half the distance, when Ned espied them, and, with a loud neigh,
+gave chase at full gallop. The children ran, in great alarm, for the fence,
+and got through, safely, before the horse came up.
+
+After this, whenever they ventured to cross the field, Ned would interfere.
+Once he got Neddy's hat in his mouth, and ran off with it. But he didn't
+harm it any, and after keeping the children waiting at the fence for about
+half an hour, came and threw it over; after which he kicked up both his
+heels in a defiant manner, and giving a "horse laugh," scampered away as if
+a locomotive were after him.
+
+At last Neddy's father complained to Farmer Jones of the way in which his
+old horse was annoying the children, who had to pass through the field, as
+they went to school, or else be compelled to go a long distance out of
+their way. The farmer inquired the cause of Ned's strange conduct, and
+learned that the little boy cut him across the shoulders with a willow
+switch.
+
+"Ho! ho!" said he, "that's the trouble, is it? Ned won't bear a stroke from
+any one. But I will make up the matter between him and the children. So let
+them stop here on their way from school this evening."
+
+The children stopped accordingly. Ned was standing in the barn-yard, the
+very picture of demure innocence. But when he saw little Neddy and his
+sister, he pricked up his ears, shook his head, and neighed.
+
+"Come, come, old boy!" said the farmer, "we've had enough of that. You must
+learn to forgive and forget. The little fellow was only playing with you."
+
+Ned appeared to understand his master, for he looked a little ashamed of
+himself, and let his pointed ears fall back again to their old places.
+
+"Now, my little fellows," said Farmer Jones, "take up a handful of that
+sweet new hay, and call him to the bars."
+
+"I'm afraid," returned Neddy. "He'll bite me."
+
+"Not he. Why the old horse wouldn't harm a hair of your head. He was only
+trying to frighten you as a punishment for the stroke you gave him. Come.
+Now's your time to make friends."
+
+Neddy, thus encouraged, gathered a handful of the sweet new hay that was
+scattered around, and going up to the fence, held it out and called to the
+horse--
+
+"Here! Ned, Ned, Ned!"
+
+The horse shook his head, and stood still.
+
+"Come along, you old vagabond!" said Farmer Jones, in a voice of reproof.
+"Don't you see the lad's sorry for the cut he gave you? Now walk up to the
+bars, and forgive the little fellow, as a sensible horse ought to do."
+
+Ned no longer hesitated, but went up to the bars, where Neddy, half
+trembling, awaited him, and took the sweet morsel of hay from the child's
+hand. Jane, encouraged by this evidence of docility, put her hand on the
+animal's neck, and stroked his long head gently with her hand, while Neddy
+gathered handful after handful of hay, and stood close by the mouth of the
+old horse, as he ate it with the air of one who enjoyed himself.
+
+After that, the children could cross the field again as freely as before,
+and if Ned noticed them at all, it was in a manner so good natured as not
+to cause them the slightest uneasiness.
+
+
+
+
+                            THE FREED BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+  Yes, go, little butterfly,
+    Fan the warm air
+  With your soft silken pinions,
+    So brilliant and fair;
+  A poor, fluttering prisoner
+    No longer you'll be;
+  There! Out of the window!
+    You are free--you are free!
+
+  Go, rest on the bosom
+    Of some favorite flower;
+  Go, sport in the sunlight
+    Your brief little hour;
+  For your day, at the longest,
+    Is scarcely a span:
+  Then go and enjoy it;
+    Be gay while you can.
+
+  As for me, I have something
+    More useful to do:
+  I must work, I must learn--
+    Though I play sometimes, too.
+  All your days with the blossoms,
+    Bright thing, _you_ may spend;
+  They will close with the summer,
+    _Mine_ never shall end.
+
+
+
+
+                            JULIA AND HER BIRDS.
+
+
+Little Julia Cornish, a young friend of mine, is very fond of birds. It is
+no strange thing, I am aware, for children to love birds. Indeed, I do not
+see how any body can help loving the dear little things, especially those
+that fill the air with their music. But Julia was unusually fond of them,
+and her fondness showed itself in a great many ways. She did not shut them
+up in cages. But she was so kind to those that had their liberty, that many
+of them became quite as tame as if they had always lived in a cage.
+
+I must tell you about a robin that used to be a pet of hers. You know the
+robin, do you not, reader? To my mind he is one of the dearest of all our
+native songsters. His notes are among the first we hear in the spring. And
+he is a very social and confiding creature. How often he selects a place
+for his nest on some tree near the house! and when it is built, while his
+partner is busy with her domestic duties, he will sing for hours together
+his song of love and tenderness.
+
+Julia resided in the country; and every year the robins built their nests
+on the trees in her father's orchard, near the house. She fancied that the
+robins came from the South to her door, year after year, and brought their
+children with them. She was sure she could distinguish the voices of her
+old friends, and she used to sit under the shade of the trees where they
+had their nests, and talk to them kindly, and leave something good for them
+to eat.
+
+One year there were a pair of robins who made their nest on a tree, the
+boughs of which hung over the house; and Julia could sit in her window and
+see all that the little family were doing. She was delighted with such a
+token of confidence, and she and the robins soon became very intimate. The
+old ones frequently flew down from their nest, and alighted near the door,
+when Julia would give them as much food as they wanted, and let them carry
+some home to their children.
+
+By and by, the young robins were old enough to leave their nests. That was
+a great day with both parents and children, and all seemed about as merry
+as they could be when the half-fledged little birds took their first
+lessons in flying, though Julia laughed a good deal to see their
+manoeuvres, and said their motions were awkward enough. However, they
+learned to fly after a while, as well as their parents, though before they
+left for the season, some cruel boy threw a stone at one of them and broke
+his wing. Poor fellow! he suffered a great deal of pain, and his parents
+and brothers and sisters were very sad about it. They seemed for a while
+hardly to know what to do. Probably there were no surgeons among them, who
+understood how to manage broken limbs. And they had a long talk
+together--so Julia said--and finally hit upon this plan. Willy--that was
+the name my friend gave to the lame bird--was to go into the house, and see
+if something could not be done for him there.
+
+Accordingly, one bright morning in June, almost as soon as breakfast was
+over, the little invalid, attended by the rest of the family, came to the
+door, where Julia was waiting to receive them--for she fed them regularly
+every day--and then, after they had eaten what they wanted, instead of
+flying away, as they were accustomed to do, little Willy hopped into the
+kitchen, while the rest remained near the door. Julia thought that was
+queer enough, and she ran and told her mother. "I wonder if I can coax the
+little fellow to stay with me until his wing gets well," she said. "I wish
+I could. Oh, I should dearly love to take care of him, and I am sure we can
+make him well soon."
+
+[Illustration: JULIA'S PET ROBIN.]
+
+Little Willy did not say--at least he did not say in our language--that he
+should be happy to place himself awhile under his friend Julia's care. But
+he seemed very content, and soon made himself quite at home. Though he had
+perfect liberty to go just where he pleased, and would often venture out of
+the house, yet he evidently considered himself an inmate of Mr Cornish's
+family. Under the care especially of Miss Julia, he became so tame that she
+could take him in her lap and stroke his feathers. Willy was a great
+favorite in the family, after he had been there a day or two. No one did
+any thing for his wing. They did not understand setting birds' wings, when
+they were broken. Still, Willy got better in a very short time, without the
+assistance of a surgeon. A great many sick people, you know, need the care
+of a nurse more than that of a doctor. That was the case with Willy, it
+would seem. In less than three weeks his wing was entirely well, and he was
+able to take care of himself. So he warbled his adieu to the family under
+whose roof he had been so kindly treated, and flew away with the other
+robins who had been waiting for him.
+
+[Illustration: JULIA FEEDING THE BIRDS.]
+
+Julia is very kind, too, to the snow-birds in the winter. Many a time, when
+the snow has been deep, and these hungry birds have come to her father's
+door, I have seen her feeding them. One winter, I recollect, she had a
+flock of them that she could call to her, when she wanted to feed them,
+just as she could the chickens. The snow-bird is an interesting little
+creature; and though he has not a very sweet voice for singing, he was
+always a favorite with Julia, and I am not sure but I love the fellow as
+well as she does. Winter to me would be a great deal more gloomy, were it
+not for the Winter King, as Miss Gould calls this little bird.
+
+Did you know reader, that the snow-bird is a very affectionate creature? It
+seems that it is so. Some years ago one of them flew into a house, where,
+finding itself quite welcome, it remained over night. By accident, however,
+it was killed in the morning, and one of the servants threw it into the
+yard. In the course of the day, one of the family witnessed a most
+affecting scene in connection with the dead body. Its mate was standing
+beside it, mourning its loss. It placed its beak below the head of its
+companion, raised it up, and again warbled its song of mourning. By and by
+it flew away, and returned with a grain or two of wheat, which it dropped
+before its dead partner. Then it fluttered its wings, and endeavored to
+call the attention of the dead bird to the food. Again it flew away, again
+it returned, and used the same efforts as before. At last, it took up a
+kernel of the wheat, and dropped it into the beak of the dead bird. This
+was repeated several times. Then the poor bereaved one sang in the same
+plaintive strain as before. But the scene was too affecting for the lady
+who witnessed it. She could bear the sight no longer, and turned away. I
+have loved the snow-bird more than ever since this story was told me, and
+so has my friend Julia.
+
+Now I think of it, I have in one of the storerooms of my memory, a song
+about the snow-bird. It is rather simple and childish--possibly too much so
+for boys and girls of your age. However, as we are somewhat musical just
+now, after talking so much about birds, and are greatly in want of a song,
+I will sing this about Emily and the Snow-Bird, and you may join in the
+chorus, if you like.
+
+
+
+
+                          SONG OF THE SNOW-BIRD.
+
+
+I.
+  The ground was all cover'd with snow one day,
+  And two little sisters were busy at play,
+  When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree,
+  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de,
+  Chick-a-de-de, Chick-a-de-de,
+  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de.
+
+[Illustration: THE SISTERS AND THE SNOW-BIRD]
+
+II.
+
+  He had not been singing that tune very long,
+  Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song.--
+  "O sister! look out of the window," said she;
+  "Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+III.
+
+  "Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,
+  And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet;
+  I pity him so! how cold he must be!
+  And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+IV.
+
+  "If I were a barefooted snow-bird, I know
+  I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.--
+  I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;
+  He's all the time singing that chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+V.
+
+  "O mother! do get him some stockings and shoes,
+  And a nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose;
+  I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see
+  How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de."
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VI.
+
+  The bird had flown down for some pieces of bread,
+  And heard every word little Emily said;
+ "How queer I would look hi that dress!" thought he;
+  And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VII.
+
+  "I'm grateful," he said, "for the wish you express,
+  But I've no occasion for such a fine dress;
+  I had rather remain with my limbs all free,
+  Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VIII.
+
+  "There is ONE, my dear child, tho' I cannot tell who,
+  Has clothed me already, and warm enough too--
+  Good morning! O, who are so happy as we?"--
+  And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+
+
+
+                           EDGAR AND WILLIAM;
+                        OR HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.
+
+
+"Here! lend me your knife, Bill; I've left mine in the house," said Edgar
+Harris to his younger brother. He spoke in a rude voice, and his manner was
+imperative.
+
+"No, I won't! Go and get your own knife," replied William, in a tone quite
+as ungracious as that in which the request, or rather command, had been
+made.
+
+"I don't wish to go into the house. Give me your knife, I say. I only want
+it for a minute."
+
+"I never lend my knife, nor give it, either," returned William. "Get your
+own."
+
+"You are the most disobliging fellow I ever saw," retorted Edgar, angrily,
+rising up and going into the house to get his own knife. "Don't ever ask me
+for a favor, for I'll never grant it."
+
+This very unbrotherly conversation took place just beneath the window near
+which Mr Harris, the father of the lads, was seated. He overheard it all,
+and was grieved, as may be supposed, that his sons should treat each other
+so unkindly. But he said nothing to them then, nor did he let them know
+that he heard the language that had passed between them.
+
+In a little while Edgar returned, and as he sat down in the place where he
+had been seated before, he said,
+
+"No thanks to you for your old knife! Keep it to yourself, in welcome. I
+wouldn't use it now, if you were to give it to me."
+
+"I'm glad you are so independent," retorted William. "I hope you will
+always be so."
+
+And the boys fretted each other for some time.
+
+[Illustration: THE TWO BROTHERS AT PLAY.]
+
+On the next day, Edgar was building a house with sticks, and William was
+rolling a hoop. By accident the hoop was turned from its right course, and
+broke down a part of Edgar's house. William was just going to say how sorry
+he was for the accident, and to offer to repair the damage that was done,
+when his brother, with his face red with passion, cried out--
+
+"Just see what you have done! If you don't clear out with your hoop, I'll
+call father. You did it on purpose."
+
+"Do go and call him! I'll go with you," said William, in a sneering,
+tantalizing tone. "Come, come along now."
+
+For a little while the boys stood and growled at each other like two
+ill-natured dogs, and then Edgar commenced repairing his house, and William
+went to rolling his hoop again. The latter was strongly tempted to repeat,
+in earnest, what he had done at first by accident, by way of retaliation
+upon his brother for his spiteful manner toward him; but, being naturally
+of a good disposition, and forgiving in his temper, he soon forgot his bad
+feelings, and enjoyed his play as much as he had done before.
+
+This little circumstance Mr Harris had also observed.
+
+A day or two afterward, Edgar came to his father with a complaint against
+his brother.
+
+"I never saw such a boy," he said. "He won't do the least thing to oblige
+me. If I ask him to lend me his knife, or ball, or any thing he has, he
+snaps me up short with a refusal."
+
+"Perhaps you don't ask him right," suggested the father. "Perhaps you don't
+speak kindly to him. I hardly think that William is ill-disposed and
+disobliging naturally. There must be some fault on your part, I am sure."
+
+"I don't know how I can be in fault, father," said Edgar.
+
+"William refused to let you have his knife, the other day, although he was
+not using it himself, did he not?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you remember how you asked him for it?"
+
+"No, sir, not now, particularly."
+
+"Well, as I happened to overhear you, I can repeat your words, though I
+hardly think I can get your very tone and manner. Your words were, 'Here,
+lend me your knife, Bill!' and your voice and manner were exceedingly
+offensive. I did not at all wonder that William refused your request. If
+you had spoken to him in a kind manner, I am sure he would have handed you
+his knife, instantly. But no one likes to be ordered, in a domineering way,
+to do any thing at all. I know you would resent it in William, as quickly
+as he resents it in you. Correct your own fault, my son, and in a little
+while you will have no complaint to make of William."
+
+Edgar felt rebuked. What his father said he saw to be true.
+
+"Whenever you want William to do any thing for you," continued the father,
+"use kind words instead of harsh ones, and you will find him as obliging as
+you could wish. I have observed you both a good deal, and I notice that you
+rarely ever speak to William in a proper manner, but are rude and
+overbearing. Correct this evil in yourself, and all will be right with him.
+Kind words are far more powerful than harsh words, and their effect a
+hundred-fold greater."
+
+On the next day, as Edgar was at work in the garden, and William standing
+at the gate, looking on, Edgar wanted a rake that was in the summer-house.
+He was just going to say, "Go and get me that rake, Bill!" but he checked
+himself, and made his request in a different form, and in a better tone
+than those words would have been uttered in.
+
+"Won't you get me the small rake that lies in the summer-house, William?"
+he said. The words and tone involved a request, not a command, and William
+instantly replied--
+
+"Certainly;" and bounded away to get the rake for his brother.
+
+"Thank you," said Edgar, as he received the rake.
+
+"Don't you want the watering-pot?" asked William.
+
+"Yes, I do; and you may bring it full of water, if you please," was the
+reply.
+
+Off William went for the watering-pot, and soon returned with it full of
+water. As he stood near one of Edgar's flower-beds, he forgot himself, and
+stepped back with his foot upon a bed of pansies.
+
+"There! just look at you!" exclaimed Edgar, thrown off his guard.
+
+William, who had felt drawn toward his brother on account of his kind
+manner, was hurt at this sudden change in his words and tone. He was
+tempted to retort harshly, and even to set his foot more roughly upon the
+pansies. But he checked himself, and, turning away, walked slowly from the
+garden.
+
+Edgar, who had repented of his rude words and unkind manner the moment he
+had time to think, was very sorry that he had been thrown off his guard,
+and resolved to be more careful in the future. And he was more careful. The
+next time he spoke to his brother, it was in a kind and gentle manner, and
+he saw its effect. Since then, he has been watchful over himself, and now
+he finds that William is one of the most obliging boys any where to be
+found.
+
+"So much for kind words, my son," said his father, on noticing the great
+change that had taken place. "Never forget, throughout your whole life,
+that kind words are far more potent than harsh ones. I have found them so,
+and you have already proved the truth of what I say."
+
+And so will every one who tries them. Make the experiment, young friends,
+and you will find it to succeed in every case.
+
+
+
+
+                 PASSING FOR MORE THAN ONE IS WORTH.
+
+
+The other day I had occasion to pay a man half a dollar, and gave him a
+dollar bank note, for which he gave me in exchange two silver pieces that I
+supposed to be worth twenty-five cents each. One of the pieces, however, I
+found afterward would only go for sixteen or seventeen cents. It was not a
+quarter of a dollar, though it looked very much like one. It had passed for
+some eight or nine cents more than it was worth. Well, that was an affair
+of very little consequence, you say. True enough, but I am going to take
+hold of something else with this handle, that may be of more consequence.
+
+There are a great many folks in the world who, like this pistareen, pass
+themselves off, or try to pass themselves off, for more than their real
+value. It is bad business, though; and they always feel _cheap_ when
+they get found out, as they are sure to be in the end.
+
+Did you ever see a dandy under a full press of canvas, as the sailors say,
+showing himself off on one of the principal streets of a city--on Broadway,
+for instance, in New York? He was trying to pass himself off for more than
+his worth. And no doubt he succeeded, too, in some instances. By the way,
+do you know what definition Webster gives of a dandy in his large
+dictionary? It is worth remembering. Suppose we turn to it. "A dandy," says
+he, "is one who dresses himself like a doll, and carries his character on
+his back." It is a most capital definition; but the silly fellow will pass
+for something else where he is not known. He will make a great swell, and
+some people will believe he is a gentleman. Indeed, it would not be strange
+if he should pass himself off, one of these days, upon some young lady who
+is quite ignorant of this kind of currency, as an Italian count, or,
+perhaps, the marquis of this or the duke of that. There is no telling. But
+if she takes him for a cent more than Webster rates him at, she gets
+cheated, depend upon it. He is not worth the clothes on his back. He has to
+cross the street sometimes, to get rid of being dunned by his tailor; and
+he has been two or three hours trying to find a barber who will trust him.
+He's nothing but a pistareen, and hardly that.
+
+Some people pass themselves off for being very learned, when they are as
+ignorant as a horse-block. But, oh! such mistakes as they make sometimes;
+it is enough to set one into a fit of laughter, only to think of some of
+them. I know a miss, who tries to pass herself off for a great reader, when
+the truth is, she has only dipped up a spoon-full, here and there, from a
+score or two of authors, and has not the slightest idea about the merits of
+any of them. Some one came up with her nicely the other night, at a party.
+He had suspicions, I suppose, that she was trying to pass for too much; at
+all events, he asked her a great many roundabout questions, which she was
+obliged to answer, and in doing so she let out the secret. Every body saw
+what sort of a coin she was, at once.
+
+What fools some folks make of themselves, by attempting to pass for more
+than they are worth, in the matter of dollars and cents. It is said, that
+in the city of New York there are a good many poor fellows that can
+scarcely get enough money to appear in a respectable suit of clothes, who
+will buy a dinner in some cheap eating-house for sixpence, and then pick
+their teeth on the door-steps of the Astor House, to make people think they
+have dined there. And that is not any worse than some would-be genteel
+people manage when the warm season comes on, every year. They close their
+front window blinds, and steal into and out of their houses like thieves,
+or dogs that have just had a flogging, so that their neighbors will think
+they have gone to Saratoga, or Rockaway, or some other fashionable summer
+retreat. They take a good deal of pains to pass for so much more than they
+are worth--do they not, little friend? They only go for pistareens, though,
+where they are known.
+
+One sometimes comes across a public speaker--a lawyer--possibly a
+preacher--who displays his eloquence by using all sorts of long and
+out-of-the-way words. A man may be listening ever so quietly and
+innocently, and the first thing he knows, down comes a word about his ears
+half as long as his arm almost, and half as heavy as a mallet. That is what
+the orator calls a _knock-down_ argument; and when he wishes to be
+particularly convincing and eloquent, he throws at you such brick-bats and
+bars of iron as incomprehensibility--epexegetically--anthropopathically--so
+fast that you have scarcely a chance to dodge one before another comes
+whizzing along. Of course, you are confounded with the man's assault and
+battery, and if you are a thinking person, perhaps fall to musing how such
+monstrous words can come out of a man's throat whole, without choking him,
+or themselves splitting to pieces. When I hear a public speaker going on in
+that way, I generally think that the poor fellow is making up in big words
+what he lacks in brains, and if I could whisper a small word or two in his
+ear, I should be apt to say, "That will never do, sir. You can't pass
+yourself off for a great scholar with this clap-trap. You are nothing but a
+pistareen, and rather smooth at that. You are, indeed. Those big words that
+we have to bend up and twist around to get into our coat-pockets, will not
+go for sense. So pray be quiet, and not attempt to pass for any more than
+you are honestly worth, which is little enough, to be sure."
+
+I have known boys and girls at school attempt to pass for more than their
+real value. Whenever I hear a boy asking somebody to write a composition
+for him, or to help him write one, which he intends to palm off as his own,
+or see him jog the boy that sits next him in the school-room, to get some
+help in reciting a bad lesson, I think of the pistareen, and want very much
+to caution the little fellow not to pass for more than he is worth. And it
+makes very little difference that I know of, whether it is a boy or a girl.
+It seems just as bad in one case as it does in the other.
+
+It happens once in a while that a young lady puts on a great many charms
+that are not natural to her, and uses every kind of deception, just for the
+sake of being admired, or, perhaps, to get a good husband. It is bad
+business, though. Sensible men are not often caught with such a trap; and
+if they are, when they find out how the matter stands--and they will find
+it out sooner or later--they despise the trick as one of the meanest that
+was ever invented. I have a notion, too, that this kind of deception is
+pretty common among young gentlemen, as well as young ladies. But it is a
+miserable business, whoever may work at it. It never turns out well in the
+end, if it does after a fashion at first. It is a great deal better to be
+natural, and to act like one's self. This passing for more than one is
+worth, to buy a husband or a wife, as the case may be, don't pay, as the
+merchant says.
+
+Some people work like a horse in a bark-mill, to make every body believe
+they are most excellent Christians, very nearly as pious as the angel
+Gabriel, when the truth is, their religion is all sham, and they will lie
+and cheat as bad as any body, if they think they will not be found out.
+Whenever I see one of this class, trying with all his might to pass for a
+saint, with his face as long as a yard-stick, or, perhaps, all lighted up
+with kindly smiles, I can't help thinking of the pistareen. It will come
+into my mind in spite of all I can do. Why, all the time the man is putting
+on these airs, he is plotting some scheme for selfish gain, or some
+mischief, just as likely as not. "He does not rise toward heaven like the
+lark, to make music, but like the hawk, to dart down upon his prey. If he
+goes up the Mount of Olives to kneel in prayer, he is about to build an
+oil-mill up there. If he weeps by the brook Kedron, he is making ready to
+fish for eels, or else to drown somebody in the stream." Poor man! he has a
+hard time of it, trying to keep up appearances. But it will be harder
+still, by and by, if he does not look out. He cannot carry his mask with
+him into the other world. There no one will pass for any more than he is
+worth.
+
+
+
+
+                        LAMENT OF THE INVALID.
+
+
+  The earth is arrayed in the robes of spring,
+    And by the soft zephyr the green leaves are stirred;
+  With the wood-bird's note the pine forests ring,
+    And the voice of the robin's glad music is heard.
+
+  I see my companions abroad on the plain,
+    But the beauties of spring, they are not for me.
+  Oh! when shall I leave my dull prison again?
+    I am pining to roam 'mid the wild flowers free.
+
+  O green is the turf in the wildwood now,
+    And my spirit flies from the dwellings of men,
+  Where the wind blows soft through the cedar's bough,
+    And the voice of the streamlet is heard from the glen.
+
+  This dim-lighted chamber I long to resign
+    For my cherish'd retreat, 'neath the wide-spreading tree.
+  Through the long, long hours of day I pine
+    For the breath of the flowers and the hum of the bee.
+
+  No, not for me are the beauties of spring,
+    Nor the zephyr that sighs in the cedar's bough;
+  The birds of the forest all sweetly may sing,
+    But not for my ear is their music now.
+
+  Yet, merciful Father! I will not complain;
+    My hopes are all centred on heaven and Thee;
+  I know that thy grace will my spirit sustain--
+    I ask not for more--'tis sufficient for me.
+
+
+
+
+                       THE USE OF FLOWERS[1].
+
+
+[Footnote 1: See the frontispiece.]
+
+
+Just one moment longer, cousin Mary, I want to put this flower in your
+hair. Now doesn't it look sweet, sister Aggy?"
+
+"Oh, yes! very sweet. And here is the dearest little bud I ever saw. I took
+it from the sweet-briar bush in the lane. Put that, too, in cousin Mary's
+hair."
+
+Little Florence, seeing what was going on, was soon, also, at work upon
+Mary's hair, that, in a little while, was covered with buds and blossoms.
+
+"Now she is our May Queen," said the children, as they hung fondly around
+their cousin, who had come out into the country to enjoy a few weeks of
+rural quiet, in the season of fruits and flowers. "And our May Queen must
+sing us a song," said Agnes, who was sitting at the feet of her cousin.
+"Sing us something about flowers."
+
+"Oh, yes!" spoke up Grace, "sing us that beautiful piece by Mrs Howitt,
+about the use of flowers. You sang it for us, you remember, the last time
+you were here."
+
+Cousin Mary sang as desired. After she had concluded, she said--
+
+"Flowers, according to these beautiful verses, are only useful as objects
+to delight our senses. They are only beautiful forms in nature--their
+highest use, their beauty and fragrance."
+
+"I think that is what Mrs Howitt means," replied Grace. "So I have always
+understood her. And I cannot see any other use that flowers have. Do you
+know of any other use, cousin?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Flowers have a more important use than merely giving delight to
+the senses. Without them, plants could not produce fruit and seed. You
+notice that the flower always comes before the fruit?"
+
+"Oh, yes. But why is a flower needed? Why does not the fruit push itself
+directly out from the stem of a plant?" asked Agnes.
+
+"Flowers are the most exquisitely delicate in their texture of all forms in
+the vegetable kingdom. Look at the petals of this one. Could any thing be
+softer or finer? The leaf, the bark, and the wood of the plant are all
+coarse, in comparison to the flower. Now, as nothing is made in vain, there
+must be some reason for this. The leaves and bark, as well as wood, of
+plants, all have vessels through which sap flows, and this sap nourishes,
+sustains, and builds up the plant, as our blood does our bodies. But the
+whole effort of the plant is to reproduce itself; and to this end it forms
+seed, which, when cast into the ground, takes root, springs up, and makes a
+new plant. To form this seed, requires the purest juices of the plant, and
+these are obtained by means of the flowers, through the exquisitely fine
+vessels of which these juices are filtered, or strained, and thus separated
+from all that is gross and impure."
+
+"I never thought of that before," said Agnes. "Flowers, then, are useful,
+as well as beautiful."
+
+"Nothing is made for mere beauty. All things in nature regard use as an
+end. To flowers are assigned a high and important use, and exquisite beauty
+of form and color is at the same time given to them; and with these our
+senses are delighted. They are, in more respects than one, good gifts from
+our heavenly Father."
+
+"Oh! how I do love the flowers," said Agnes; "and now, when I look upon
+them, and think of their use as well as their beauty, I will love them
+still more. Are they so very beautiful because their use is such an
+important one, cousin Mary?"
+
+"Yes, dear; I believe this is so. In the seeds of plants there is an image
+of the infinity of our great Creator; for in seeds resides a power, or an
+effort, to reproduce the plants, that lie concealed as gems within them, to
+infinity. We might naturally enough suppose that flowers, whose use it is
+to refine and prepare the juices of plants, so as to free them from all
+grosser matters, and make them fit for the important office of developing
+and maturing seeds, would be exceedingly delicate in their structure, and,
+as a natural consequence, beautiful to look upon. And we will believe,
+therefore, that their peculiar beauty depends upon their peculiar use."
+
+
+
+
+                           SLIDING DOWN HILL.
+
+
+Say what you will--talk about cold hands, feet, and noses, as much as you
+please--there are about as fine sports in winter as we get in the whole
+year. There is something very exciting in snow. A snow storm acts like
+electricity upon the spirits of the boys--and girls too, for that matter.
+How busy we used to be, on Saturday afternoon, when there was no school, as
+soon as the first flakes of snow had whitened the ground, making new sleds,
+and mending up old ones.
+
+Our southern readers know very little about these sports of winter. I have
+a good mind to enlighten them a little. Imagine, my young friends--you who
+live so near the tropics that snow and ice are objects of
+curiosity--imagine, if you can, the earth covered to the depth of two feet
+or more with snow. In some places, the drifts are as high as your head, and
+higher too. When it first falls, the particles are loosely thrown together;
+but a warm sun or a little shower of rain melts them down a little, and
+then comes a night cold enough to freeze up your mouth, if you don't look
+out, and the surface of the snow becomes hard and slippery. Then such a
+time as the boys have sliding down hill--why, it is worth coming up as far
+north as New York, and running the risk of having your fingers frozen a
+little, to see them at it, and take a few trips down the hill.
+
+[Illustration: SLIDING DOWN HILL.]
+
+A sled constructed for this purpose is a very simple thing. I will sketch
+one for you. Here it is, and a boy carrying it up the hill.
+
+When the boy gets to the top of the hill, he sometimes lies and sometimes
+sits up on his sled, and lets it go. It finds its way down, without any of
+the boy's help, you may depend upon it. He has to guide it a little with
+his feet, though. If he did not, he might come in contact with another
+boy's sled, or a rock, perhaps; and that would be rather a serious joke,
+when the sled was going like the cars on a railroad.
+
+Sometimes there are a dozen boys, all or nearly all with a sled of their
+own, sliding down the same hill at once. In fact, we used to have the whole
+school at it, now and then, when I was a little boy. It was a merry time
+then, you may be sure. Occasionally we would have a large sled, which it
+took three or four boys to draw up the hill. Then half a dozen of us would
+get on, and slide down in advance of the wind, it seemed to me--for it was
+so swift that I scarcely could breathe--until we came up all standing in a
+huge snow bank.
+
+Sometimes, when we were half way down, and our locomotive was under a full
+pressure of steam, a boy would fall off, and, not being able to check the
+force he received from the sled, would go down to the bottom of the hill in
+a manner calculated to raise a very stormy concert of laughter from the
+rest of the boys. And the poor John Gilpin enjoyed the fun, too, or tried
+to enjoy it, as much as any of them, though he did not laugh quite so
+heartily; and he could well be pardoned for not doing that, certainly,
+until he had got to the end of his ludicrous race.
+
+I can recollect a great many funny adventures connected with sliding down
+hill. I don't know that I ever laughed more in my life at any one time,
+than I did once at a feat of Jack Mason's. Jack was a courageous
+fellow--one of the most daring boys in the whole school. Some thirty or
+forty of us were one bright Saturday afternoon sliding down a fine hill,
+with a good level valley at its foot, when Jack challenged the boys to go
+down the other side, which was a great deal steeper, and which had an
+immense drift of snow at the bottom. No one dared to do it. We all thought
+it would be rather too serious business. Jack surveyed the ground for a few
+minutes, and screwed his courage up to the highest point. "I am going
+down," said he. We tried to dissuade him, but it was of no use. When Jack
+had made up his mind, you might as well attempt to turn the course of the
+north wind as to turn him. The words were no sooner out of his mouth, than
+down he went, like an arrow. We trembled for him, and held our breath
+almost, as we watched his sled; for it used to be a proverb with us, that
+Jack would break his neck one of these days, and we were not without our
+fears that the day had come.
+
+Down went Jack on his sled, and in a few moments he was plunged in the snow
+bank out of sight. We all ran down to dig him out, scarcely daring to hope
+we should find him alive. We worked like beavers for a considerable time,
+and found nothing of the poor adventurer. At last, more than a rod from
+where he entered the bank, up popped Jack, as white with snow as if he had
+been into a flour barrel, tugging his sled after him, and grinning like a
+right merry fellow, as he was. Take it all in all, it was one of the most
+laughable sights I ever saw; and now as I write, and a sort of a
+daguerreotype likeness of Jack, just emerging, like a ghost, from that snow
+bank, comes up to my mind, I have to stop and laugh almost as heartily as I
+did at the scene itself, when it occurred.
+
+
+
+
+                      A GARDEN OVERRUN WITH WEEDS.
+
+
+"Father, I don't like to go to school," said Harry Williams, one
+morning. "I wish you would let me always stay at home. Charles Parker's
+father don't make him go to school."
+
+Mr Williams took his little boy by the hand, and said kindly to him, "Come,
+my son, I want to show you something in the garden."
+
+Harry walked into the garden with his father, who led him along until they
+came to a bed in which peas were growing, the vines supported by thin
+branches that had been placed in the ground. Not a weed was to be seen
+about their roots, nor even disfiguring the walk around the bed in which
+they had been planted.
+
+"See how beautifully these peas are growing, my son," said Mr Williams.
+"How clean and healthy the vines look. We shall have an abundant crop. Now
+let me show you the vines in Mr Parker's garden. We can look at them
+through a great hole in his fence."
+
+Mr Williams then led Harry through the garden gate and across the road, to
+look at Mr Parker's pea vines through the hole in the fence. The bed in
+which they were growing was near to the road; so they had no difficulty in
+seeing it. After looking into the garden for a few moments, Mr Williams
+said--
+
+"Well, my son, what do you think of Mr Parker's pea vines?"
+
+"Oh, father!" replied the little boy; "I never saw such poor looking peas
+in my life! There are no sticks for them to run upon, and the weeds are
+nearly as high as the peas themselves. There won't be half a crop!"
+
+"Why are they so much worse than ours, Harry?"
+
+"Because they have been left to grow as they pleased. I suppose Mr Parker
+just planted them, and never took any care of them afterward. He has
+neither taken out the weeds, nor helped them to grow right."
+
+"Yes, that is just the truth, my son. A garden will soon be overrun with
+weeds and briars, if it is not cultivated with the greatest care. And just
+so it is with the human garden. This precious garden must be trained and
+watered, and kept free from weeds, or it will run to waste. Children's
+minds are like garden beds; and they must be as carefully tended, and even
+more carefully, than the choicest plants. If you, my son, were never to go
+to school, nor have good seeds of knowledge planted in your mind, it would,
+when you become a man, resemble the weed-covered, neglected bed we have
+just been looking at, instead of the beautiful one in my garden. Would you
+think me right to neglect my garden as Mr Parker neglects his?"
+
+"Oh, no, father; your garden is a good garden, but Mr Parker's is all
+overrun with weeds and briars. It won't yield half as much as yours will."
+
+"Or, my son, do you think I would be right if I neglected my son as Mr
+Parker neglects his son, allowing him to run wild, and his mind,
+uncultivated, to become overgrown with weeds?"
+
+Little Harry made no reply; but he understood pretty clearly what his
+father meant.
+
+"I send you to school," Mr Williams continued, "in order that the garden
+of your mind may have good seeds sown in it, and that these seeds may
+spring up and grow, and produce plentifully. Now which would you prefer, to
+stay at home from school, and so let the garden of your mind be overrun
+with weeds, or go to school, and have this garden cultivated?"
+
+"I would rather go to school," said Harry. "But, father, is Charles
+Parker's mind overrun with weeds?"
+
+"I am afraid that it is. If not, it certainly will be, if his father does
+not send him to school. For a little boy not to be sent to school, is a
+great misfortune, and I hope you will think the privilege of going to
+school a very great one indeed."
+
+Harry Williams listened to all his father said, and, what was better,
+thought about it, too. He never again asked to stay home from school.
+
+
+
+
+                            JULIAN PARMELEE;
+                  OR DISAPPOINTMENT SOMETIMES A BLESSING.
+
+
+In a pleasant New England village, several years ago, there was a good deal
+of excitement produced among the little folks, by the appearance, on the
+sign-post, and in the tavern and store, of some large placards, with very
+curious and funny pictures upon them. These placards made known the
+important fact, that, for the sum of ninepence, (a shilling, according to
+the currency of New York,) any boy and girl in the vicinity might have the
+pleasure of seeing some of the most astonishing feats of trained animals
+ever heard of. On a certain day there was to be a sort of juggler, who
+would play on some kind of instruments. The music made by this man would
+have the power of charming the animals--so the advertisement read--and the
+instant they heard it, they would commence playing their antics. There was
+a great black bear who would stand on his head; a dog who knew almost as
+much as his master; a cock that could walk on a pair of high stilts. Then
+there were learned monkeys, learned pigs, and I know not what besides.
+
+[Illustration: THE "SHOW."]
+
+The pictures of these different animals, performing their several exploits,
+caused a great deal of wonder and admiration among the village boys and
+girls. In cities, where such exhibitions occur very frequently, such things
+would not be much thought of. But it is very different in the country,
+where public exhibitions of every sort are "like angels' visits, few and
+far between." For nearly a week before the day appointed for this juggling
+exhibition, there was nothing talked of in this quiet village so much as
+the "show." Ninepences that had been a twelvemonth in accumulating, were
+now in great demand; and more than one boy sighed as he reflected that he
+had spent his pennies in candies and other nice things, so that he had none
+left for the "show," and secretly resolved that he would be wiser next
+time, and not allow his money to slip through his fingers so easily.
+
+Among those who had the permission of their parents to visit the
+exhibition, and who were anxiously longing for the day to come, were Julian
+Parmelee and his sister. Julian, especially--a boy of about nine years of
+age--was almost crazy with delight, when his mother told him he might go.
+He jumped, danced, clapped his hands, shouted, and went through so many
+strange manoeuvres, that his elder brother George, who was rather more
+sober on the occasion, said he guessed he should not go to the court-house
+and pay ninepence to see the show, for he was in a fair way to get the
+exhibition at home, for nothing.
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Julian, "do you really believe the bear will stand on
+his head? What a funny sight it must be! I wonder if they keep the bear
+chained. I shall take care I do not get within reach of his paws, I guess.
+Charley Staples said he didn't believe it was half so big as the one he saw
+when he was up in Vermont. How big is it, mother? as big as our Carlo? Oh,
+I wish it was time to go now! I should think monkeys were very funny
+creatures. They say there is one in the show that rides a horse, just like
+a man. Ha! ha! ha!" And he laughed so loudly that he waked up the baby in
+the cradle.
+
+I do not wonder at all that little Julian was so much delighted with the
+idea of going to this exhibition. It was something entirely new to him; and
+to children, especially, such singular feats as these animals were to
+perform, are always entertaining. It may, however, admit of a question,
+whether it is right, just for our amusement, to inflict so much pain upon
+these poor creatures as is necessary to teach them their several parts.  It
+seems rather cruel.  You know what the frogs once said to the boys,
+according to the fable, in the matter of stoning: "Young gentlemen, you do
+not consider, that while this is sport to you, it is death to us."  These
+poor bears, and monkeys, and other animals, while they are going through
+their education, might use some such language to their teachers, perhaps,
+if they had the same faculty that the fable ascribes to the frogs.  But,
+however that may be, it was very natural that Julian should be half frantic
+at the thought of seeing the show, and quite as natural that Julian's
+father and mother should consent to let him go.
+
+Well, some two days before the exhibition was to take place, Julian was
+taken sick.  There is a class of diseases--such as the measles and the
+whooping-cough--which, you know, almost every boy and girl must have some
+time or another; and it is not always left with the children to decide
+precisely when they shall take their turn.  One of these diseases had made
+Julian a call, and insisted on staying with him a week or two.  It was the
+whooping-cough.  Julian wanted to be excused for a few days; but the old
+fellow told him, in his wheezing way, that he could not think of letting
+him off so long.  Julian was disappointed, and cried a good deal.  It did
+seem rather hard that he must be caged up in his chamber just at this time.
+ He was not so sick as to make it necessary to stay at home; but his mother
+thought it would be wrong to allow him to go where there were to be so many
+other children, because they would be in danger of taking the disease from
+him.  So it was decided that he could not see the "show;" and he fretted
+and stormed, and made himself very unhappy.  He was usually a good-natured
+boy, but it must be confessed, that he was now quite out of humor.
+
+"I don't see what I'm sick for, just when I wanted to go to the 'show.'  I
+declare, it is too bad.  And the whooping-cough, too!  If it was any thing
+else, I could go.  What under the sun--"
+
+"There, Julian, that will do, I think," said his mother, kindly.
+
+Julian checked himself, but he could hardly help muttering something about
+its being "very provoking."
+
+Mrs Parmelee was silent for a while, until the peevishness of her child had
+a little time to subside, and then she said--
+
+"My dear child, I am sorry that you should feel so; for you not only make
+yourself unhappy, but you are finding fault with God, and you know that is
+very wrong.  God had something to do with your sickness.  He could very
+easily have prevented it, if he had chosen to do so.  But he did not choose
+to prevent it, and--"
+
+"Well, why didn't he prevent it, mother?"
+
+"Hear me through, my child.  If he allowed you to be sick, when he could
+have kept you well, then it is certain that, on the whole, he would rather
+you would be sick.  You see this, don't you, Julian?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am.  God made me sick, didn't he?"
+
+"There's no doubt that all diseases are under his control."
+
+"Then, mama, I am sure that God--"
+
+"Not quite so fast. I want you to see what you was doing, when you was
+so peevish a little while ago. You was very much out of humor. Indeed, I
+think you showed some anger."
+
+"Oh, no, mother, I was not angry."
+
+"Perhaps not, my child; but what would you call that spirit, if it was
+not anger?"
+
+"I was--I was--provoked--I mean vexed, mama."
+
+"Well, who vexed you?"
+
+"Nobody; it was the whooping-cough."
+
+"I'm very sorry that my child should get into such a passion--or
+vexation, whichever it may be--with the whooping-cough; for you say that
+you suppose the disease was under the control of God, so that it must
+have been rather an innocent sort of thing, after all. If you should
+fall into the mill-pond, and a man standing on the shore should let you
+struggle a while before he helped you out, you would get vexed, wouldn't
+you?"
+
+"I guess I should."
+
+"You would certainly have as much reason for vexation as you have had
+this morning. But would you be likely to get vexed with the water?"
+
+"Why, no, mama. I should be provoked with the man, because he didn't
+help me out."
+
+"I thought so. Well, then, don't you think you found fault with God, in
+this matter of the whooping-cough?"
+
+"It may be so."
+
+"It must be so."
+
+Little Julian was a thoughtful child. He saw that this spirit of
+peevishness was very wrong, and that he had murmured against God. He
+told his mother that he hoped he should not do so any more. He was
+silent for some minutes, and then said--
+
+"There is one thing I would like to know about, mother; but it may be I
+ought not to ask."
+
+"What is it, Julian?" asked his mother.
+
+"If God is kind, and if he loves us, why does he let us get sick? I am
+sure you would keep me well all the time, if you could, because you love
+me, and because you are good and kind."
+
+"I am glad you asked that question, Julian. There are a great many
+things which we cannot understand about the government of God. But I
+think I can explain this to you. God, it is true, often disappoints us,
+and gives us pain, and makes us weep. This would all seem very strange,
+and almost unkind, if we did not know that God has some other end in
+view besides making us happy in this life. He is training us for another
+world; and if you live to be a man, you will see that such
+disappointments as this of yours, for a part of God's plan of fitting
+his children for heaven."
+
+"But I think we should be just as good, if he did not make us feel bad
+and cry."
+
+"That is your mistake. Do you think you would be just as good a child,
+if your parents always humored you, and gave you every plaything you
+asked for? Are you quite sure that you would now mind your father and
+mother as well, if you had always been allowed to have your own way?"
+
+"But you don't make me sick, mother."
+
+"True. We correct you in another way. But we sometimes give you pain,
+and make you cry. Did you ever think, when your father reproved you and
+punished you, that it was because he did not love you?"
+
+"Oh, no, mother."
+
+"You can see how your father can be kind and affectionate, and still
+give you pain?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then cannot you see how God may disappoint _his_ children, and
+even make them unhappy for a time, and love them tenderly, too?"
+
+"Oh, mother, I see it all now! I wonder I never thought of this before!
+Well, the whooping-cough is not so bad, after all. I've learned
+something by it, at any rate."
+
+"Yes, and it may be worth a great deal more to you than the 'show' would
+have been."
+
+
+
+
+                   THE OLD MAN AT THE COTTAGE DOOR.
+
+
+  Come, faint old man! and sit awhile
+    Beside our cottage door;
+  A cup of water from the spring,
+    A loaf to bless the poor,
+  We give with cheerful hearts, for God
+    Hath given us of his store.
+
+  Too feeble, thou, for daily toil,
+    Too weak to earn thy bread--
+  For th' weight of many, many years,
+    Lies heavy on thy head--
+  A wanderer, want, thy weary feet,
+    Hath to our cottage led.
+
+  Come rest awhile. 'Twill not be long,
+    Ere thy faint head shall know
+  A deeper, calmer, better rest,
+    Than cometh here below;
+  When He, who loveth every one,
+    Shall call thee hence to go.
+
+  God bless thee in thy wanderings!
+    Wherever they may be,
+  And make the ears of every one
+    Attentive to thy plea;
+  A double blessing will be theirs,
+    Who kindly turn to thee.
+
+
+
+
+                        STORY OF A STOLEN PEN.
+                          WRITTEN BY ITSELF.
+
+
+My friend, Theodore Thinker, who is an odd sort of a genius, and
+frequently takes up things after a singular fashion, has put into my
+hands a paper with this caption: "Story of a Stolen Pen, written by
+itself." It seems, from a somewhat lengthy introduction--too lengthy to
+be here quoted--that the pen once belonged to some editor or another;
+and as Theodore has something to do with editorial matters himself, I
+should not wonder if he is the one. Some curious readers may be disposed
+to inquire how the pen was made to talk so fluently, and perhaps some
+others would like to know how it was found in the first place. I can't
+answer these reasonable inquiries. The manuscript is entirely silent on
+both points. I have my conjectures in relation to the thing--pretty
+strong conjectures, too. I guess the whole story is a fable, to tell the
+truth. But never mind. There is a great deal of sense in fables
+sometimes; and who knows but there may be some in this? At all events,
+we must have
+
+                               THE STORY.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE THIEF STEALING THE PEN.]
+
+
+I wish you could have seen the thief in the act of stealing me. What a
+sorry face he had on! I send you a rough sketch of him--for I have a
+little talent at drawing--taken from memory. I was lying on the desk,
+close by a manuscript which I had commenced. He snatched me as soon as
+the editor's back was turned, and ran out of the office. I wonder the
+people did not notice that he was a rogue as he passed along the street.
+Why, he stared at every body he met, as if he was afraid they were going
+to give him an invitation to walk to the police office. The first thing
+he did was to call at several pawnbroker's offices, where he tried to
+sell me. No one would give him what he asked. He wanted ten or twelve
+dollars, I believe. Well, he gave up that project before night, and I
+heard him mutter to himself, "If I only had the money for it!" After
+supper he took me into his room, and when he had locked the door fast,
+he began to examine me carefully. "It _is_ a beautiful pen," said
+he, and then he tried to see how I would write. I should think he was a
+pretty good penman. He made a great many flourishes with me, and wrote
+his name several times. His name was John Smith, by the way, or at any
+rate, that was the signature he made. "What a fine pen this is," said
+he; "I never wrote with a better pen in my life. But it won't do for me
+to keep it. I shall be found out, if I do. Oh, dear! I wish I had got it
+without stealing it. I wonder where I can sell the troublesome thing."
+
+Just then somebody knocked at the door. It was a long time before he let
+the person in. He had to think what he would do with me first, and it
+took him a good while to put away the paper he had been scribbling on.
+"Why, John!" said the man, when he came in, "what makes you look so
+frightened? I should think you took me for a tiger, or some such
+animal." "I've got the toothache," said the thief, "and I have sent for
+the doctor to pull it out. I thought he had come when you knocked. Dear
+me! how I dread it! Did you ever have a tooth drawn?"
+
+So you see the fellow told a lie. Those who break one of God's
+commandments, are pretty likely to break more before they get through.
+My new owner seemed to find it difficult to get to sleep that night, and
+after he did get to sleep, he muttered a good deal in his dreams. Once I
+heard him say, "No; I bought it of Mr Bagley, in Broadway." I could not
+help thinking that he ought to be content with telling lies when he was
+awake.
+
+One day he left me on the table when he went out. It was unfortunate for
+him. That night I overheard the chambermaid talking with him about it,
+and I saw him turn very red in the face. It was evident she did not
+believe his story about buying the pen of Mr Bagley, though he told it
+over and over again, and made use of a terrible oath, which I dare not
+repeat. Poor man! I pitied him. He was certainly very unhappy. He wanted
+to sell me very much indeed; but some how or other, no one would give
+the price he asked. Perhaps they remembered the saying, "The buyer is as
+bad as the thief." He offered me to one man in Pearl street, who seemed
+a little disposed to buy. "Wait a minute," said he; and he went into a
+back room to speak to somebody. But John Smith thought it would be safer
+for him not to wait. I guess he had his mind on the subject of police
+officers at that time.
+
+He never went to church with me but once; and then, strange enough, the
+minister preached from this text: "The way of transgressors is hard."
+I could feel the poor man's heart throb, as the clergyman slowly read
+the words. When he went home, he was in great distress--for the sermon
+was a very solemn one--and he took down from a shelf a small Bible, all
+covered with dust, and looked at some words which were written on the
+first leaf. I don't wonder he wept, as he read them--"A mother's gift."
+He remembered where the text was, and he turned to it, and read it again
+and again. "Yes," said he, "it is true--too true. But what shall I do?
+I have been to the theatre so much now, that I can't be happy unless I
+go; and where am I to get the money? I wish I had never begun to steal.
+Oh! that was a sad day for me, when I listened to wicked boys, and
+robbed that old man's pear tree." I saw then how he first became a
+thief; and I thought I should like to have every body know that when
+boys are stealing apples, and pears, and peaches, they are serving an
+apprenticeship to the business of stealing on a larger scale. I myself
+have heard of many a highway robber, who began his career in the orchard
+of his neighbor.
+
+Mr Smith did not reform. About three months ago, he stole a horse from
+a stable in the upper part of the city, and immediately left for some
+place in New Jersey. It was a beautiful horse, but he could not sell
+him. People were suspicious. At last he was arrested, and had to go to
+Sing Sing prison. I hope he will make up his mind to be an honest man
+now; for he has certainly learned, by pretty dear experience, that
+"honesty is the best policy." I can't think he would steal any more if
+they should let him out. Still, I am not sure. The habit was very
+strong.
+
+
+
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+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1">
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wreaths of Friendship, by T. S. Arthur and F. C. Woodworth</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 8%; }
+h1,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; }
+h2 { text-align: center; margin-top: 4em; }
+    hr.full { width: 100%;
+              height: 5px; }
+    pre      {font-size: 8pt;}
+</style>
+</head>
+<body bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wreaths of Friendship, by T. S. Arthur and F.
+C. Woodworth</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Wreaths of Friendship</p>
+<p>       A Gift for the Young</p>
+<p>Author: T. S. Arthur and F. C. Woodworth</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 15, 2005  [eBook #16073]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP***</p>
+<br><br><center><h4>E-text prepared by Rudy Ketterer, Jason Isbell,<br>
+                    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br>
+                    (https://www.pgdp.net)<br>
+                    from page images generously made available by<br>
+                    Internet Archive and the University of Florida</h4></center><br><br>
+<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10>
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+         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<br>
+         <a href="http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&amp;idno=UF00001794&amp;format=jpg">
+         http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&amp;idno=UF00001794&amp;format=jpg</a>
+         <br>
+         or<br>
+         <a href="http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&amp;idno=UF00001794&amp;format=pdf">
+         http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&amp;idno=UF00001794&amp;format=pdf</a>
+   </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0001.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"Wreaths of Friendship (Front cover)"></a>
+<a href="images/0005.jpg"><br>
+<img src="images/thumb/0005.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"TOKENS OF AFFECTION. (See Page 207.)"></a> <a href=
+"images/0006.jpg"><img src="images/thumb/0006.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"Wreath of Friendship. By T.S. Arthur and F.C. Woodworth New York Charles Scribner">
+</a></p>
+
+<hr>
+<h1>WREATHS</h1>
+
+<h3>OF</h3>
+
+<h1>FRIENDSHIP:</h1>
+
+<h2>A Gift for the Young.</h2>
+
+<h5>BY</h5>
+
+<h5>T. S. ARTHUR</h5>
+
+<h5>AND</h5>
+
+<h5>F. C. WOODWORTH.</h5>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h6>NEW YORK:</h6>
+
+<h6>CHARLES SCRIBNER,</h6>
+
+<h6>36 PARK ROW, AND 145 NASSAU ST.</h6>
+
+<br>
+<h4>1851.</h4>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+<p align="center">Stereotyped by BAKER &amp; PALMER<br>
+11 Spruce Street.</p>
+
+<hr>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0010a.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0010a.jpg" border="0" alt="preface"></a></p>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0010b.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0010b.jpg" align="left" border="0" alt=
+"Ornamented 'Y'"></a> oung friends&mdash;stop a moment. We have set up a
+sort of turnpike gate here, as you see, between the title-page and
+the first story in our book, in the shape of a preface, or
+introduction. "What! do you mean to take toll of us, then?" Why,
+no&mdash;not exactly. But we want to say half a dozen words to you, as
+you pass along, and to tell you a little about these WREATHS
+which we have been twining for our friends. So you need not be in
+quite so great a hurry. Wait a minute.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">You have no doubt noticed that it is a very
+common thing for an author to take up several of the first pages of
+his book with apologies to his readers. First, perhaps, he
+apologizes for writing at all; and secondly, for writing so
+poorly&mdash;just as if it was a crime to make a book, for which crime
+the author must get down on his knees, and humbly beg the public's
+pardon. We think we shall not take this course, on the whole, for
+this reason, if for no other&mdash;that we do not feel very guilty about
+what we have done. But as the plan of our book is somewhat new, we
+have been thinking it would be well enough, in introducing it to
+you, at least to tell how we came to make it.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We have both of us published a good deal, in one
+way and another, for young people; and we got a notion&mdash;a very
+pleasant one, certainly, and rather natural, withal, whether well
+founded or not&mdash;that among that class of the public composed of
+boys and girls, we had a pretty respectable number of friends.
+Under this impression, we put our heads together, one day, and made
+up our minds to invite these friends of ours, every one of them, to
+a kind of festival, and that we would share equally in the pleasure
+of giving the entertainment. The book, reader, which we have named
+WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP, as perhaps you have already guessed,
+grew out of that plan of ours.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We have not, as you will perceive, indicated the
+authorship of the tales and sketches, as they appear; and those
+readers who have any curiosity in this matter, are referred to the
+index.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We hope the volume will please you. More than
+this: we hope it will prove to be useful&mdash;useful for the future as
+well as for the present life; and, indeed, if it had not been for
+this hope, much as we love to entertain our young friends, these
+Wreaths would never have been twined by our hands.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We have little else to add, except the fondest
+wishes of our hearts; and, to tell the truth, it was to express to
+you these kind wishes&mdash;to give you something like a hearty shake of
+the hand&mdash;rather than because we had any thing of importance to say
+in our preface, that we stopped you at the outset.</p>
+
+<p align="right">THE AUTHORS.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0014.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0014.jpg" border="0" alt="Contents"></a></p>
+
+<table border="0" summary="table of content">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<th>Authors.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</th>
+<th>Page.</th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#013">What shall we Build?</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">13</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#016">The Two Cousins</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">16</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#028">A Noble Act</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">28</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#035">The Word of God</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">35</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#036">Harsh Words and Kind Words</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">36</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#041">The Herons and the Herrings</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">41</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#043">Early Spring Flowers</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">43</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#051">Temptation Resisted</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">51</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#061">Evening Prayer</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">61</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#063">Stretching the Truth</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">63</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#067">The City Pigeon</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">67</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#072">A Day in the Woods</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">72</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#081">The Spider and the Honey Bee</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">81</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#088">Emma Lee and her Sixpence</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">88</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#093">Uncle Roderick's Stories</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">93</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#094">Honesty the Best Policy</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">94</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#097">How a Rogue Feels when he is Caught</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">97</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#100">The Weekly Newspaper</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">100</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#103">The Cider Plot</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">103</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#107">My First Hunting Excursion</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">107</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#111">Saturday in Winter</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">111</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#113">Rover and his Little Master</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">113</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#117">Something Wrong</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">117</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#121">The Favorite Child</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">121</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#129">The Mine</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">129</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#132">The Miner</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">132</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#135">Visit to Fairy Land</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">135</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#143">The Hermit</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">143</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#147">A Picture</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">147</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#150">The Boy and the Robin</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">150</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#152">Something about Conscience</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">152</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#166">Old Ned</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">166</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#175">The Freed Butterfly</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">175</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#177">Julia and Her Birds</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">177</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#185">The Song of the Snow Bird</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">185</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#189">How to Avoid a Quarrel</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">189</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#197">Passing for More than One is Worth</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">197</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#205">The Lament of the Invalid</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">205</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#207">The Use of Flowers</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">207</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#211">Sliding Down Hill</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">211</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#217">A Garden Overrun with Weeds</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">217</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#221">Disappointment Sometimes a Blessing</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">221</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#232">The Old Man at the Cottage Door</a></td>
+<td align="center">T.S.A.</td>
+<td align="right">232</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#234">Story of a Stolen Pen</a></td>
+<td align="center">F.C.W.</td>
+<td align="right">234</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr width="50%">
+<h1>WREATHS.</h1>
+
+<hr width="50%">
+<a name="013"></a>
+<h2>WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0129.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'F'"></a> our children were playing on the sea-shore.
+They had gathered bright pebbles and beautiful shells, and written
+their names in the pure, white sand; but at last, tired of their
+sport, they were about going home, when one of them, as they came
+to a pile of stones, cried out:</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh! let us build a fort; and we will call that
+ship away out there, an enemy's vessel, and make believe we are
+firing great cannon balls into her!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, yes! let us build a fort," responded
+Edward, the other lad.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">And the two boys&mdash;for two were boys and two
+girls&mdash;ran off to the pile of stones, and began removing them to a
+place near the water.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come, Anna and Jane," said they, "come and
+help us."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, no. Don't let us build a fort," said Jane.</p>
+
+<p align="center">
+<a href="images/0140.jpg"><img src="images/thumb/0140.jpg" border="0" alt="WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?">
+</a><br>WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes; we will build a fort," returned the boys.
+"What else can we build? You wouldn't put a house down here upon
+the water's edge?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No; but I'll tell you what we can build, and it
+will be a great deal better than a fort."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well; what can we build?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"A light-house," said the girls; "and that will
+be just as much in place on the edge of the sea as a fort. We can
+call the ship yonder a vessel lost in the darkness, and we will
+hang out a light and direct her in the true way. Won't that be much
+better than to call her an enemy, and build a fort to destroy her?
+See how beautifully she sits upon and glides over the smooth water!
+Her sails are like the open wings of a bird, and they bear her
+gracefully along. Would it not be cruel to shoot great balls into
+her sides, tear her sails to pieces, and kill the men who are on
+board of her? Oh! I am sure it would make us all happier to save
+her when in darkness and danger. No, no; let us not build a fort,
+but a light-house; for it is better to save than to destroy."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The girls spoke with tenderness and enthusiasm,
+and their words reached the better feelings of their
+companions.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes," said they; "we will build a
+light-house, and not a fort." And they did so.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Yes, it is much better to save than to destroy.
+Think of that, children, and let it go with you through life. Be
+more earnest to save your friends than to destroy your enemies. And
+yet, when a real enemy comes, and seeks to do evil, be brave to
+resist him.</p>
+
+<a name="016"></a>
+<h2>THE TWO COUSINS;</h2>
+
+<h3>OR, HOW TO ACT WHEN "THINGS GO WRONG."</h3>
+
+<p align="justify">"<a href="images/0154.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0154.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'T'"></a> here, mother, I knew it would be so. Lucy
+Wallace has just sent over to tell me she can't walk out in the
+woods with me. There's no use in my trying to please any
+body&mdash;there's no use in it. I'm an odd sort of a creature, it
+seems. Nobody loves me. It always was so. Oh, dear! I wish I knew
+what I had done to make the girls hate me so!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This not very good-natured speech was made by a
+little girl, whom I shall call Angeline Standish. She was some ten
+or twelve years old, as near as I can recollect. Perhaps my readers
+would like to know something about the occasion which called for
+this speech; but it is a long story, and hardly worth telling. The
+truth is, when little boys and girls get very angry, or peevish, or
+fretful, they sometimes blow out a great deal of ill-humor,
+something after the manner that an overcharged steam boiler lets
+off steam&mdash;with this difference, however, that the steam boiler
+gets cooler by the operation, while the boy or girl gets more
+heated. The throat is a poor safety-valve for ill-humor; and it is
+bad business, this setting the tongue agoing at such a rate,
+whenever the mercury in one's temper begins to rise toward the
+boiling point.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">As is usual, in such cases, Angeline felt worse
+after these words had whistled through the escape pipe of her
+ill-nature, than she did before; and, for want of something else to
+do, she commenced crying. She was not angry&mdash;that is, not
+altogether so&mdash;though the spirit she showed was a pretty good
+imitation of anger, it must be confessed. She was peevish. Matters
+had not gone right with her that day. She was crossed in this thing
+and that thing. Her new hat had not come home from the milliner's,
+as she expected; one of her frocks had just got badly torn; she had
+a hard lesson to learn; and I cannot repeat the whole catalogue of
+her miseries. So she fretted, and stormed, and cried, and felt just
+as badly as she chose.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Not long after the crying spell was over, and
+there was a little blue sky in sight, Jeannette Forrest, a cousin
+of Angeline's, came running into the room, her face all lighted up
+with smiles, and threw her arms around her cousin's neck, and
+kissed her. This was no uncommon thing with Jeannette. She had a
+very happy and a very affectionate disposition. Every body loved
+her, and she loved every body.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One not acquainted with Angeline, might very
+naturally suppose that she would return her cousin's embrace. But
+she did no such thing. Her manner was quite cool and distant. Human
+nature is a strange compound, is it not?</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why, cousin," said the light-hearted Jeannette,
+"what is the matter? You are not well, are you?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, well enough," the other replied, rather
+crustily. Take care, Angeline, there's a cloud coming over your
+cousin's face. Speak a kind word or two, now. Then the sun will
+beam out again, brightly as ever. Jeannette was silent for a
+moment, for she was astonished, and did not know what to make of
+her cousin's manner. It would have appeared uncivil and rude to
+most little girls. But the sweet spirit of Jeannette&mdash;loving,
+hoping, trusting&mdash;was differently affected. She saw only the
+brighter side of the picture. So the bee, as she flies merrily from
+flower to flower, finds a store of honey where others would find
+only poison.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Dear Angeline," said her cousin, at length,
+"I'm sure something is the matter. Tell me what it is, won't you?
+Oh, I should love to make you happy, if I only knew how!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Angeline seemed scarcely to hear these words of
+love. That is strange enough, I hear you say. So it is, perhaps,
+and it may be stranger still, that she read not the language of
+love and sympathy that was written so plainly in her cousin's
+countenance. It is true, though, for all that. She did not say much
+of any thing to this inquiry&mdash;she simply muttered, between her
+teeth,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't believe any body loves me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Jeannette was no philosopher. She could not read
+essays nor preach sermons. Her argument to convince her cousin that
+there was, at least, one who loved her, was drawn from the heart,
+rather than from the head. It was very brief, and very much to the
+point. She burst into tears, and sobbed,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Don't say so, dear."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Jeannette could not stay long. Her mother had
+sent her on an errand, and told her she must make haste back.
+Perhaps it was as well that she could not stay&mdash;and perhaps not.
+Human nature is a strange sort of compound, as I said before; and
+it may be that the ice which had covered over the streams leading
+from Angeline's heart would not have melted under the influence
+even of the warm sun that, for a moment or two, beamed upon them so
+kindly. For one, however, I should like to know what would have
+come out of that conversation, if it had been allowed to go on.
+Jeannette went home, and Angeline was again left to her own
+reflections, which were any thing but pleasant. It was Saturday
+afternoon; and, there being no school, she had hoped to be able to
+ramble in the woods with some of her little companions. But here
+she was disappointed, too, and this increased her peevishness;
+though the reason why she could not go was, because she did not
+learn her lesson in season, and that was her own fault. Toward
+night, when Mrs Standish had leisure to sit down to her sewing, she
+called Angeline, and reminded her of the ill-natured spirit she had
+shown in the early part of the afternoon. The child was rather
+ashamed of what she had said, it is true; but she tried to excuse
+her conduct.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Every thing went wrong to-day, mother," she
+said; "I couldn't help feeling so. Oh, dear! I don't see how any
+body can be good, when things go in this way&mdash;I mean any body but
+Jeannette. I wish I was like her. It is easy for her to be
+good."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Your cousin has, no doubt, a very different
+disposition from yours," said the mother. "But it is much easier
+for you to be always good-natured and happy than you suppose,
+Angeline."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I wish I knew how, mother."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, you say things went wrong with you this
+afternoon. I think I know what some of these things were. They were
+not so pleasant as they might have been, certainly. They were
+troublesome. But don't you think the greatest trouble of all was in
+your own heart?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, ma'am. I was well enough until the things
+began to go wrong; and then I felt bad, and I couldn't help
+it."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mrs Standish laughed, as she said, "So, then, as
+soon as the things begin to go wrong, you take the liberty to go
+wrong too. Every thing works well inside, until it is disturbed by
+something outside?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"That is it, mother."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"And when the things inside go smoothly, because
+every thing is smooth outside, you have a very good and happy
+disposition?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Pretty good, I think."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"And so, when there is a hurricane inside,
+because the wind blows rather more than usual outside, you are
+cross, and unhappy, and bad enough to make up for being so good
+before?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, ma'am, I am afraid I am, sometimes."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, my child, you are wrong, all wrong. If all
+was right inside, the other things you speak of would not disturb
+you so, if they should happen to go wrong."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why, mother, wouldn't they disturb me at
+all?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"They might, occasionally, but not near as much.
+Do you remember that our clock went wrong last winter?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, ma'am; we couldn't tell what time it was,
+and it used to strike all sorts of ways."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"What do you suppose made the clock act so,
+Angeline? It goes well enough now, you know."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I believe Mr Mercer said one of the wheels was
+out of order."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"That was all. It was not the weather&mdash;not
+because we forgot to wind it up&mdash;not because things did not go
+right in the room. Now, your mind is something like a clock. If it
+is kept in order, it will run pretty well, I guess&mdash;no matter
+whether it rains or shines&mdash;whether it is winter or summer. Milton
+says, very beautifully, in his poem called the 'Paradise Lost,'</p>
+
+<blockquote>"'The mind is its own place, and of itself<br>
+ Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'</blockquote>
+
+<p align="justify">"He means by this, that our happiness or
+unhappiness depends more upon what is within us than it does upon
+what is without. And he is right. Do you understand, my child?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I understand what you mean, but it is not so
+easy to see how I am to go to work and be good all the time, like
+cousin Jeannette. I'm not like her, mother, and I never can be like
+her, I know."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"True, you will always be very unlike your
+cousin. But I don't know of any thing to hinder your being as good
+and amiable as she is, for all that."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, mother! I'd give every thing in the world,
+if I only knew how!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think you can learn, my child, with much less
+expense; though, to be sure, you will have to give up some things
+that perhaps you will find it hard to part with. You will be
+obliged to give up some of your bad habits."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"That would be easy enough."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not so easy as you think, it may be. It is a
+good deal easier to let a bad habit come in, than it is to turn one
+out. But 'where there's a will, there's a way,' you know."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, mother, what shall I do? I should like to
+begin pretty soon, for scarcely any body loves me now,"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Before you learn much, it might be well to
+unlearn a little. When any thing goes wrong, as you say, you must,
+at least, not make it go worse. You must not make every body around
+you unhappy, if you do feel a little cross and peevish."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, mother, I can't speak pleasantly when I
+don't feel so."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then, in most cases, you had better not speak
+at all."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never thought of that. I can stop talking, if
+I try."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"So you can, and you can do more. You can get
+into the habit of finding 'the south or sunny side of things,' as
+Jean Paul says, and if you do, you will not be likely to have a
+snow-storm in your heart very often. Besides, you ought to
+remember, that all these disappointments and crosses are a part of
+your education for heaven, and you should endeavor to improve them
+as such, so that their good effect will not be lost. And another
+thing, my child: you ought to ask God to assist you in this
+self-government&mdash;to make you his child&mdash;to give you a new heart&mdash;to
+teach you to love Christ, and to be like him. Then you will seldom
+feel cross and fretful, because things go wrong. You will be
+cheerful and good-natured. You will make others happy&mdash;and you will
+very soon forget the old story, that nobody loves you."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Now, many little boys and girls&mdash;possibly some
+who read this story&mdash;would have thought this task too hard. They
+would have regarded it as a pretty severe penance. Perhaps they
+would have concluded, after having put all these difficult things
+into one scale, and the thing to be gained by them into the other,
+that the reward was not worth so great a sacrifice. So thought not
+Angeline, however. She began the work in earnest, that very day.
+She went over to her uncle's, with an unusual amount of sunshine in
+her countenance, and made it all right with Jeannette. In the
+evening, she told her little brother James what she intended to do,
+and invited him to help her; and before they retired to rest that
+night, they knelt down together and offered up a prayer, that God,
+for Christ's sake, would help them in governing themselves.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One day&mdash;perhaps some six weeks after this&mdash;Mrs
+Standish said, smilingly, to her daughter,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, my dear, does Lucy Wallace love you any
+better?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, mother," said Angeline, as a tear of joy
+stood in her eye, "every body loves me now!"</p>
+
+<a name="028"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0028.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0028.jpg" border="0" alt="A NOBLE ACT."></a><br>A NOBLE ACT.</p>
+
+<h2>A NOBLE ACT.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">"What have you there, boys?" asked Captain
+Bland.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"A ship," replied one of the lads who were
+passing the captain's neat cottage.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"A ship! Let me see;" and the captain took the
+little vessel, and examined it with as much fondness as a child
+does a pretty toy. "Very fair, indeed; who made it?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I did," replied one of the boys.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You, indeed! Do you mean to be a sailor,
+Harry?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know. I want father to get me into the
+navy."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"As a midshipman?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Captain Bland shook his head.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Better be a farmer, a physician, or a
+merchant."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why so, captain?" asked Harry;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"All these are engaged in the doing of things
+directly useful to society."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But I am sure, captain, that those who defend
+us against our enemies, and protect all who are engaged in commerce
+from wicked pirates, are doing what is useful to society."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Their use, my lad," replied Captain Bland, "is
+certainly a most important one; but we may call it rather negative
+than positive. The civilian is engaged in building up and
+sustaining society in doing good, through his active employment, to
+his fellow-man. But military and naval officers do not produce any
+thing; they only protect and defend."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But if they did not protect and defend,
+captain, evil men would destroy society. It would be of no use for
+the civilian to endeavor to build up, if there were none to fight
+against the enemies of the state."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Very true, my lad. The brave defender of his
+country cannot be dispensed with, and we give him all honor. Still,
+the use of defence and protection is not so high as the use of
+building up and sustaining. The thorn that wounds the hand
+stretched forth to pluck the flower, is not so much esteemed, nor
+of so much worth, as the blossom it was meant to guard. Still, the
+thorn performs a great use. Precisely a similar use does the
+soldier or naval officer perform to society; and it will be for
+you, my lad, to decide as to which position you would rather
+fill."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never thought of that, captain," said one of
+the lads. "But I can see clearly how it is. And yet I think those
+men who risk their lives for us in war, deserve great honor. They
+leave their homes, and remain away, sometimes for years, deprived
+of all the comforts and blessings that civilians enjoy, suffering
+frequently great hardships, and risking their lives to defend their
+country from her enemies."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"It is all as you say," replied Captain Bland;
+"and they do, indeed, deserve great honor. Their calling is one
+that exposes them to imminent peril, and requires them to make many
+sacrifices; and they encounter not this peril and sacrifice for
+their own good, but for the good of others. Their lives do not pass
+so evenly as do the lives of men who spend their days in the
+peaceful pursuits of business, art, or literature; and we could
+hardly wonder if they lost some of the gentler attributes of the
+human heart. In some cases, this is so; but in very many cases the
+reverse is true. We find the man who goes fearlessly into battle,
+and there, in defence of his country, deals death and destruction
+unsparingly upon her enemies, acting, when occasion offers, from
+the most humane sentiments, and jeopardizing his life to save the
+life of a single individual. Let me relate to you a true story in
+illustration of what I say.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"When the unhappy war that has been waged by our
+troops in Mexico broke out, a lieutenant in the navy, who had a
+quiet berth at Washington, felt it to be his duty to go to the
+scene of strife, and therefore asked to be ordered to the Gulf of
+Mexico. His request was complied with, and he received orders to go
+on board the steamer Mississippi, Commodore Perry, then about to
+sail from Norfolk to Vera Cruz.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Soon after the Mississippi arrived out, and
+before the city and castle were taken, a terrible 'norther' sprung
+up, and destroyed much shipping in the harbor. One vessel, on which
+were a number of passengers, was thrown high upon a reef, and when
+morning broke, the heavy sea was making a clear breach through her.
+She lay about a mile from the Mississippi, and it soon became known
+on board the steamer, that a mother and her infant were in the
+wreck, and that unless succor came speedily, they would perish. The
+lieutenant of whom I speak, immediately ordered out a boat's crew,
+and although the sea was rolling tremendously, and the 'norther'
+still blowing a hurricane, started to the rescue. Right in the
+teeth of the wind were the men compelled to pull their boat, and so
+slowly did they progress, that it took over two hours to gain the
+wreck.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"At one time, they actually gave out, and the
+oars lay inactive in their hands. At this crisis, the brave but
+humane officer, pointing with one hand to the fortress of San Juan
+de Ulloa, upon which a fire had already commenced, and with the
+other to the wreck, exclaimed, with noble enthusiasm,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"'Pull away, men! I would rather save the life
+of that woman and her child, than have the honor of taking the
+castle!'</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Struck by the noble, unselfish, and truly
+humane feelings of their officer, the crew bent with new vigor to
+their oars. In a little while the wreck was gained, and the brave
+lieutenant had the pleasure of receiving into his arms the almost
+inanimate form of the woman, who had been lashed to the deck, and
+over whom the waves had been beating, at intervals, all night.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"In writing home to his friends, after the
+excitement of the adventure was over, the officer spoke of the
+moment when he rescued that mother and child from the wreck as the
+proudest of his life.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Afterward he took part in the bombardment of
+Vera Cruz, and had command, in turn, of the naval battery, where he
+faithfully and energetically performed his duty as an officer in
+the service of his country. He was among the first of those who
+entered the captured city; but pain, not pleasure, filled his mind,
+as he looked around, and saw death and destruction on every hand.
+Victory had perched upon our banners; the arms of our country had
+been successful; the officer had bravely contributed his part in
+the work; but he frankly owns that he experienced far more delight
+in saving the woman he had borne from the wreck, than he could have
+felt had he been the commander of the army that reduced the
+city.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Wherever duty calls, my lads," concluded the
+captain, "you will find that brave officer. He will never shrink
+from the post of danger, if his country have need of him; nor will
+he ever be deaf to the appeal of humanity; but so long as he is a
+true man, just so long will he delight more in saving than in
+destroying."</p>
+
+<a name="035"></a>
+<h2>THE WORD OF GOD.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0035.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'H'"></a> enry, what book is that you have in your
+hand?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"It is the Bible, mother,"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, no, it cannot be, surely!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why, yes it is&mdash;see!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"And my little boy to treat so roughly the book
+containing God's holy word!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Henry's face grew serious.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, I forgot!" he said, and went and laid the
+good book carefully away.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Try and not forget again, my son. If you treat
+this book so lightly now, you may, when you become a man, as
+lightly esteem its holy truths; and then you could never live in
+heaven with the angels. No one goes to heaven who does not love and
+reverence the Word of God, which is holy in every jot and
+tittle."</p>
+
+<a name="036"></a>
+<h2>HARSH WORDS AND KIND WORDS.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0067.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0067.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'W'"></a> illiam Baker, and his brother Thomas and
+sister Ellen, were playing on the green lawn in front of their
+mother's door, when a lad named Henry Green came along the road,
+and seeing the children enjoying themselves, opened the gate and
+came in. He was rather an ill-natured boy, and generally took more
+pleasure in teasing and annoying others, than in being happy with
+them. When William saw him coming in through the gate, he called to
+him and said, in a harsh way,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You may just clear out, Henry Green, and go
+about your business! We don't want you here."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But Henry did not in the least regard what
+William said. He came directly forward, and joined in the sport as
+freely as if he had been invited instead of repulsed. In a little
+while he began to pull Ellen about rudely, and to push Thomas, so
+as nearly to throw them down upon the grass.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Go home, Henry Green! Nobody sent for you!
+Nobody wants you here!" said William Baker, in quite an angry
+tone.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">It was of no use, however. William might as well
+have spoken to the wind. His words were entirely unheeded by Henry,
+whose conduct became ruder and more offensive.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mrs Baker, who sat at the window, saw and heard
+all that was passing. As soon as she could catch the eye of her
+excited son, she beckoned him to come to her, which he promptly
+did.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Try kind words on him," she said; "you will
+find them more powerful than harsh words. You spoke very harshly to
+Henry when he came in, and I was sorry to hear it."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"It won't do any good, mother. He's a rude, bad
+boy, and I wish he would stay at home. Won't you make him go
+home?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"First go and speak to him in a gentler way than
+you did just now. Try to subdue him with kindness."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">William felt that he had been wrong in letting
+his angry feelings express themselves in angry words. So he left
+his mother and went down upon the lawn, where Henry was amusing
+himself by trying to trip the children with a long stick, as they
+ran about on the green.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Henry," he said, cheerfully and pleasantly, "if
+you were fishing in the river, and I were to come and throw stones
+in where your line fell, and scare away all the fish, would you
+like it?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I should not," the lad replied.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"It wouldn't be kind in me?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, of course it wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, now, Henry," William tried to smile and
+to speak very pleasantly, "we are playing here and trying to enjoy
+ourselves. Is it right for you to come and interrupt us by tripping
+our feet, pulling us about, and pushing us down? I am sure you will
+not think so if you reflect a moment. So don't do it any more,
+Henry."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I will not," replied Henry, promptly. "I am
+sorry that I disturbed you. I didn't think what I was doing. And
+now I remember, father told me not to stay, and I must run
+home."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">So Henry Green went quickly away, and the
+children were left to enjoy themselves.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Didn't I tell you that kind words were more
+powerful than harsh words, William?" said his mother, after Henry
+had gone away; "when we speak harshly to our fellows, we arouse
+their angry feelings, and then evil spirits have power over them;
+but when we speak kindly, we affect them with gentleness, and good
+spirits flow into this latter state, and excite in them better
+thoughts and intentions. How quickly Henry changed, when you
+changed your manner and the character of your language. Do not
+forget this, my son. Do not forget, that kind words have double the
+power of harsh ones."</p>
+
+<a name="041"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0040.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0040.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS."></a><br>THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.</p>
+
+<h2>THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FABLE.</h3>
+
+<p>A Heron once came&mdash;I can scarcely tell why&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;To the court of his cousins, the fishes,<br>
+With despatches, so heavy he scarcely could fly,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And his bosom brimfull of good wishes.<br>
+<br>
+He wished the poor Herrings no harm, he said,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Though there seemed to be cause for suspicion;<br>
+His government wished to convert them, instead,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And this was the end of his mission.<br>
+<br>
+The Herrings replied, and were civil enough,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Though a little inclined to be witty:<br>
+"We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And are greatly obliged for your pity.<br>
+<br>
+"But your plan of conversion we beg to decline,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;With all due respect for your nation;<br>
+No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet we fear it would check respiration."<br>
+<br>
+The Heron returned to his peers in disdain,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And told how their love was requited.<br>
+"Poor creatures!" they said, "shall we let them remain<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;So ignorant, blind, and benighted?"<br>
+<br>
+Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;The Herons in council decided;<br>
+And they flew, every one that could boast a long bill,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;To the beach where the Herrings resided.<br>
+<br>
+So the tribe were soon converts from ocean to air,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Though liking not much the diversion,<br>
+And wishing at least they had time to prepare<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;For so novel a mode of conversion.<br>
+<br>
+A sensible child will discover with ease<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;The point of the tale I've related&mdash;<br>
+A blockhead could not, let me say what I please&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Then why need my MORAL be stated?</p>
+
+<a name="043"></a>
+<h2>EARLY SPRING FLOWERS.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0043.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0043.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"EARLY SPRING FLOWERS. and a Ornamented 'O'"></a>f all the
+amusements of my childhood, I can think of none which I loved so
+much as rambling in the woods and meadows among the flowers. What a
+rich treat it used to be, just after the earth had thrown aside its
+white mantle, and begun to be clothed in its summer dress, to get
+permission to spend a whole Saturday afternoon in the woods with my
+brother and sister. Oh, how delighted we all were, when we found
+the first wild flowers of spring! Let me see. What flowers show
+their pretty faces the earliest? Do you remember, young friend?
+Perhaps you have always lived in the city, and have never made
+their acquaintance. But if you have ever seen them, blushing in
+their native haunts, I am sure you must remember how they look, and
+what their names are. I cannot see how any body can forget them,
+they are so beautiful and lovely.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One of the earliest flowers of spring, and one
+which grew in the woods only a few rods from my father's door, near
+the stream that turned my miniature water-wheels, is the
+<i>Trailing Arbutus</i>. Often you may find this plant unfolding
+its delicate blossoms before the snow has left the ground. That, in
+our northern latitudes, is usually among the first flowers in
+blossom. Soon after she appears, you may see one and perhaps two
+different species of the <i>Anemone</i>. One, especially&mdash;the
+<i>Anemone Thalictroides</i>, as it used to be called in botany,
+though it is now the <i>Thalictrum Anemonoides</i>, I believe&mdash;is
+among the fairest of all these flowers of spring. She has a blossom
+as white as snow. The <i>Anemone Nemrosa</i> is almost as fair,
+too, though not quite, I think. You can sometimes see them both
+smiling side by side, early in the month of May, nodding gracefully
+at each other, and smiling as if they were very happy. It does not
+require much imagination to fancy they are conversing together;
+and, indeed, I would quite as soon believe that flowers could talk,
+as I would believe those stories about the fairies that children
+hear sometimes.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">There is another beautiful flower which makes
+her appearance very early&mdash;the <i>Spring Beauty</i>, or
+<i>Claytonia Virginica</i>. She is usually found in the same
+locations with the Anemone. Then there is the <i>Liver Leaf</i>.
+Did you ever find that, little girl? Very possibly you have not
+taken a ramble early enough in the spring to see her. She makes her
+visit frequently in the latter part of April, and she does not stay
+long. But after her flower has faded and fallen, there may be seen
+a few deeply notched and curious leaves, to mark the spot where she
+bloomed so sweetly.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The <i>Blood Root</i>, too, will make her visit,
+and go away again, if you delay your ramble in the woods till the
+first of May. The blossom of the Blood Root is a very delicate
+white. Hundreds of exotic flowers are cultivated in our gardens,
+and very much admired, that are not half so pretty as this. The
+leaves that appear before the plant is in blossom, are oval, a
+little like those of the Adder's Tongue, which is in flower
+somewhat later, and like those of one species of the Solomon's
+Seal&mdash;the <i>Convallaria Bifolia</i>. But when the flower of the
+Blood Root appears, you see quite a different kind of leaf, so that
+even close observers of wild flowers are sometimes deceived, and
+think that their early leaves belong to some other plant.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Every body who has been at all familiar with the
+forest and meadows in the spring, knows the <i>Violet</i>. There
+are a good many sisters in this charming family, but none, perhaps,
+in our latitude, that are more beautiful than the <i>Viola
+Rotundifolia,</i> or Yellow Violet, with roundish leaves, lying
+close to the ground. The Blue Violet, too, appears soon after, and
+is perhaps equally pretty. I recollect distinctly where it used to
+grow near the little brook that ran through our meadow&mdash;a brook
+that many a time has served to turn my water-wheel. Oh, those days
+of miniature water-wheels, and kites, and wind-mills! how happy
+they were, and how I love to think of them now! By the way, have
+you ever read Miss Gould's poetical fable about the little child
+and the Blue Violet? I must recite a stanza or two of this poem, I
+think. The child speaks to the Violet, and says,</p>
+
+<p>"Violet, violet, sparkling with dew,<br>
+Down in the meadow land, wild where you grew,<br>
+How did you come by the beautiful blue<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With which your soft petals unfold?<br>
+And how do you hold up your tender young head,<br>
+Where rude, sweeping winds rush along o'er your bed,<br>
+And dark, gloomy clouds, ranging over you, shed<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Their waters, so heavy and cold?<br>
+<br>
+"No one has nursed you, or watched you an hour,<br>
+Or found you a place in the garden or bower;<br>
+And they cannot yield me so lovely a flower,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As here I have found at my feet!<br>
+<br>
+"Speak, my sweet violet, answer and tell,<br>
+How you have grown up and flourished so well,<br>
+And look so contented, where lonely you dwell,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And we thus by accident meet?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Then the Violet answers, and tells the child why
+it is so contented, and how it is able to hold up its head, and
+where its pretty blue petals come from. But I will not recite the
+remainder of the poem, for I am sure my readers do not need to be
+told who made the flowers, and who taught them to bloom so sweetly
+in their wild haunts.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The early flowers of spring! I loved them fondly
+when a child; but now I am a man, I love them still more. Shall I
+tell you why, dear child? There is something sad in the reason, and
+yet it is not all sadness. I had a sister&mdash;I <i>had</i> a sister.
+Ah! that tells the tale. I have no sister now! The dearest
+companion of my early rambles among the flowers&mdash;herself the
+fairest and sweetest of them all&mdash;has fallen before the scythe of
+Death. She has gone now to a world of perpetual spring, and the
+flowers she loved so well are blooming over her grave. She faded
+away in the early spring, and we laid her to rest where her mother
+had long been sleeping. By the side of the streamlet where we used
+to play in the sunny days of childhood, and where the Dandelion
+grew, and the Butter-cup, and the Violet&mdash;there is now the form of
+her I tenderly loved.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But my strain is sad&mdash;too sad. I will sing, and
+be cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Alas! how soon<br>
+The things of earth we love most fondly perish!<br>
+Why died the flower our hearts had learned to cherish?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Why, ere 'twas noon?<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I cannot tell&mdash;<br>
+But though the grave be that loved sister's dwelling,<br>
+And though my heart e'en now with grief is swelling,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I know 'tis well.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;'Tis well with the&mdash;<br>
+'Tis well with thee, thou lone and silent sleeper!<br>
+'Tis well, though thou hast left me here a weeper<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Awhile to be.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;'Tis well for me&mdash;<br>
+'Tis well; my home, since thou art gone, is dearer&mdash;<br>
+The grave is welcome, if it bring me nearer<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To heaven and thee.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I'll not repine&mdash;<br>
+No, blest one; thou art happier than thy brother:<br>
+I'll think of thee, as with thy angel-mother,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sweet sister mine.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Still would I share<br>
+Thy love, and meet thee where the flowers are springing,<br>
+Where the wild bird his joyous note is singing&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Come to me there.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! come again,<br>
+At the still hour, the holy hour of even,<br>
+Ere one pale star has gemmed the vault of heaven;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Come to me then.</p>
+
+<a name="051"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0051.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0051.jpg" border="0" alt="TEMPTATION RESISTED."></a><br>TEMPTATION RESISTED.</p>
+
+<h2>TEMPTATION RESISTED.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">Charles Murray left home, with his books in his
+satchel, for school. Before starting, he kissed his little sister,
+and patted Juno on the head, and as he went singing away, he felt
+as happy as any little boy could wish to feel. Charles was a
+good-tempered lad, but he had the fault common to a great many
+boys, that of being tempted and enticed by others to do things
+which he knew to be contrary to the wishes of his parents. Such
+acts never made him feel any happier; for the fear that his
+disobedience would be found out, and the consciousness of having
+done wrong, were far from being pleasant companions.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">On the present occasion, as he walked briskly in
+the direction of the school, he repeated over his lessons in his
+mind, and was intent upon having them so perfect as to be able to
+repeat every word. He had gone nearly half the distance, and was
+still thinking over his lessons, when he stopped suddenly, as a
+voice called out,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Halloo, Charley!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Turning in the direction from which the voice
+came, he saw Archy Benton, with his school basket in his hand; but
+he was going from, instead of in the direction of the school.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Where are you going, Archy?" asked Charles,
+calling out to him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Into the woods, for chestnuts."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Ain't you going to school, to-day?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, indeed. There was a sharp frost last night,
+and Uncle John says the wind will rattle down the chestnuts like
+hail."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Did your father say you might go?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, indeed. I asked him, but he said I couldn't
+go until Saturday. But the hogs are in the woods, and will eat the
+chestnuts all up, before Saturday. So I am going to-day. Come, go
+along, won't you? It is such a fine day, and the ground will be
+covered with chestnuts. We can get home at the usual time, and no
+one will suspect that we were not at school."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I should like to go, very well," said Charley;
+"but I know father will be greatly displeased, if he finds it out,
+and I am afraid he will get to know it, in some way."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"How could he get to know it? Isn't he at his
+store all the time?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But he might think to ask me if I was at
+school. And I never will tell a lie."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You could say yes, and not tell a lie, either,"
+returned Archy. "You were at school yesterday."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I couldn't. A lie, father says, is in the
+intent to deceive. He would, of course, mean to ask whether I was
+at school to-day, and if I said yes, I would tell a lie."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"It isn't so clear to me that you would. At any
+rate, I don't see such great harm in a little fib. It doesn't hurt
+any body."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Father says a falsehood hurts a boy a great
+deal more than he thinks for. And one day he showed me in the Bible
+where liars were classed with murderers, and other wicked spirits,
+in hell. I can't tell a lie, Archy."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There won't be any need of your doing so,"
+urged Archy; "for I am sure he will never think to ask you about
+it. Why should he?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know. But whenever I have been doing
+any thing wrong, he is sure to begin to question me, and lead me on
+until I betray the secret of my fault."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Never mind. Come and go with me. It is such a
+fine day. We shan't have another like it. It will rain on Saturday,
+I'll bet any thing. So come along, now, and let us have a day in
+the woods, while we can."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Charles was very strongly tempted. When he
+thought of the confinement of school, and then of the freedom of a
+day in the woods, he felt much inclined to go with Archy.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come along," said Archy, as Charles stood
+balancing the matter in his mind. And he took hold of his arm, and
+drew him in a direction opposite from the school. "Come! you are
+just the boy I want. I was thinking about you the moment before I
+saw you."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The temptation to Charles was very strong. "I
+don't believe I will be found out," he said to himself; "and it is
+such a pleasant day to go into the woods!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Still he held back, and thought of his father's
+displeasure if he should discover that he had played the truant.
+The word "truant," that he repeated mentally, decided the matter in
+his mind, and he exclaimed, in a loud and decided voice, as he
+dragged away from the hand of Archy, that had still retained its
+hold on his arm, "I've never played truant yet, and I don't think I
+ever will. Father says he never played truant when he was a boy;
+and I'd like to say the same thing when I get to be a man."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Nonsense, Charley! come, go with me," urged
+Archy.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But Charles Murray's mind was made up not to
+play the truant. So he started off for school, saying, as he did
+so&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I can't go, Archy; and if I were you, I
+would wait until Saturday. You will enjoy it so much better when
+you have your fathers consent. It always takes away more than half
+the pleasure of any enjoyment to think that it is obtained at the
+cost of disobedience. Come! go to school with me now, and I will go
+into the woods with you on Saturday."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I can't wait until Saturday. I'm sure it
+will rain by that time; and if it don't, the hogs will eat up every
+nut that has fallen before that time."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There'll be plenty left on the trees, if they
+do. It's as fine sport to knock them down as to pick them up."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But Archy's purpose was settled, and nothing
+that Charles Murray could say had any influence with him. So the
+boys parted, the one for his school, and the other for a stolen
+holiday in the woods.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The moment Charles was alone again, he felt no
+longer any desire to go with Archy. He had successfully resisted
+the temptation, and the allurement was gone. But even for listening
+to temptation he had some small punishment, for he was late to
+school by nearly ten minutes, and had not his lessons as perfect as
+usual, for which the teacher felt called upon to reprimand him. But
+this was soon forgotten; and he was so good a boy through the whole
+day, and studied all his lessons so diligently, that when evening
+came, the teacher, who had not forgotten the reprimand, said to
+him:</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You have been the best boy in the school
+to-day, Charles. To-morrow morning try and come in time, and be
+sure that your lessons are all well committed to memory."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Charles felt very light and cheerful as he went
+running, skipping, and singing homeward. His day had been well
+spent, and happiness was his reward. When he came in sight of home,
+there was no dread of meeting his father and mother, such as he
+would have felt if he had played the truant. Every thing looked
+bright and pleasant, and when Juno came bounding out to meet him,
+he couldn't help hugging the favorite dog in the joy he felt at
+seeing her.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">When Charles met his mother, she looked at him
+with a more earnest and affectionate gaze than usual. And then the
+boy noticed that her countenance became serious.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Ain't you well, mother?" asked Charles.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, my dear, I am very well," she replied;
+"but I saw something an hour ago which has made me feel sad. Archy
+Benton was brought home from the woods this afternoon, where he had
+gone for chestnuts, instead of going to school, as he should have
+done, dreadfully hurt. He had fallen from a tree. Both his arms are
+broken, and the doctor fears that he has received some inward
+injury that may cause his death."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Charles turned pale, when his mother said
+this.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Boys rarely get hurt, except when they are
+acting disobediently, or doing some harm to others," remarked Mrs
+Murray. "If Archy had gone to school, this dreadful accident would
+not have happened. His father told him that he might go for
+chestnuts on Saturday, and if he had waited until then, I am sure
+he might have gone into the woods and received no harm, for all who
+do right are protected from evil."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"He tried to persuade me to go with him," said
+Charles, "and I was strongly tempted to do so. But I resisted the
+temptation, and have felt glad about it ever since."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mrs Murray took her son's hand, and pressing it
+hard, said, with much feeling,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"How rejoiced I am that you were able to resist
+his persuasions to do wrong. Even if you had not been hurt
+yourself, the injury received by Archy would have discovered to us
+that you were with him, and then how unhappy your father and I
+would have been I cannot tell. And you would have been unhappy,
+too. Ah! my son, there is only one true course for all of us, and
+that is, to do right. Every deviation from this path brings
+trouble. An act of a moment may make us wretched for days, weeks,
+months, or perhaps years. It will be a long, long time before Archy
+is free from pain of body or mind&mdash;it may be that he will never
+recover. Think how miserable his parents must feel; and all because
+of this single act of disobedience."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We cannot say how often Charles said to himself,
+that evening and the next day, when he thought of Archy, "Oh, how
+glad I am that I did not go with him!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">When Saturday came, the father and mother of
+Charles Murray gave him permission to go into the woods for
+chestnuts. Two or three other boys, who were his school companions,
+likewise received liberty to go; and they joined Charles, and
+altogether made a pleasant party. It did not rain, nor had the hogs
+eaten up all the nuts, for the lads found plenty under the tall old
+trees, and in a few hours filled their bags and baskets. Charles
+said, when he came home, that he had never enjoyed himself better,
+and was so glad that he had not been tempted to go with Archy
+Benton.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">It was a lesson he never afterward forgot. If he
+was tempted to do what he knew was wrong, he thought of Archy's day
+in the woods, and the tempter instantly left him. The boy who had
+been so badly hurt, did not die, as the doctor feared; but he
+suffered great pain, and was ill for a long time.</p>
+
+<a name="061"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0061.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0061.jpg" border="0" alt="EVENING PRAYER."></a><br>EVENING PRAYER.</p>
+
+<h2>EVENING PRAYER.</h2>
+
+<p>Heavenly Father! Through the day,<br>
+Have we wandered from thy way?<br>
+Have our thoughts to error turned?<br>
+Has within us evil burned?<br>
+<br>
+Heavenly Father! Oh, remove<br>
+Evil thoughts and evil love!<br>
+Give us truth our minds to fill;<br>
+Give us strength to do thy will.<br>
+<br>
+Often we are led astray<br>
+From the true and righteous way;<br>
+But, we humbly pray to thee,<br>
+From the tempter keep us free.<br>
+<br>
+Heavenly Father! While we sleep,<br>
+Angel watchers round us keep.<br>
+When the morning breaks, may we,<br>
+Better, wiser children be.</p>
+
+<a name="063"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0063.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0063.jpg" border="0" alt="STRETCHING THE TRUTH."></a><br>STRETCHING THE TRUTH.</p>
+
+<h2>STRETCHING THE TRUTH.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">It is a very bad habit, this stretching the
+truth, as one does a piece of India rubber; and the worst of it is,
+that when any body forms the habit, there is no telling how much it
+will grow upon him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">There is Jack Weaver, for instance. He is a
+sailor all over, to be sure&mdash;an "old salt," as he would call
+himself. But that does not confer upon him any license to spin such
+yarns as he does, to his young shipmates on the forward deck. He
+has cruised half a dozen years after whales, in the Pacific ocean,
+and, of course, has seen some sights that are worth speaking of.
+But that is no reason why he should fill the head of that young
+fellow sitting on a coil of rope with a hundred cock-and-bull
+stories, that have scarcely a word of truth in them, from beginning
+to end. Why, he don't pretend to tell stories without stretching
+the truth.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I know some boys, too, who seem to find it very
+difficult to relate any incident as it took place. They are so much
+in the habit of stretching the truth, in fact, that those who are
+acquainted with them seldom believe more than half of one of their
+stories. These boys, however, have not the slightest intention,
+when they are pulling out a foot into a yard, of doing any thing
+wrong. Very possibly they think they are telling a pretty straight
+story. Habits are strong, you know&mdash;especially bad habits. Just
+look at Selden Mason, one of the best-natured boys I ever saw, and
+who has not got an enemy among all his school-mates; it is
+wonderful what a truth-stretcher he has got to be. Every boy shakes
+his head, when he hears a great story, and says it sounds like one
+of Selden's yarns. And yet be is so particular and minute in
+relating any thing, sometimes, that one who did not know him would
+not suspect him of treating the truth so badly. His apparent
+sincerity reminds me of an anecdote related of another boy, who had
+this habit worse than Selden has, I should think. The boy remarked
+that his father once killed ninety-nine crows at a single shot! He
+was asked why he did not say a hundred, and have done with it. The
+fellow was indignant. "Do you think I would tell a lie for one
+crow?" said he!</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Selden Mason's habit of truth-stretching has got
+such a hold of him now, that you can perceive the marks of it in
+almost every thing he says. I have sometimes been half sorry he was
+so good a boy in other respects; for, as his companions like him
+pretty well, there is the more danger that they will catch the
+habit of him, before they are aware of it. His teacher was once
+asked what he thought of Selden, on the whole. "I can't help being
+pleased with the fellow," said he; "he is a good scholar, and very
+obedient; but I should like him a great deal better if he didn't
+tell such monstrous stories. He is like a book all printed in
+italic letters, with an exclamation point at the end of every
+sentence." Selden has often gone by the name of the "Exclamation
+Point," since that time.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Poor fellow! I wish he had tried to break
+himself of that habit, before it became so deeply rooted. I am
+afraid it will stick to him as long as he lives now; and if it
+does, he will get a very bad character as a man of business.
+Scarcely any reliance can be placed upon his word. No matter how
+careful he may be to state a thing exactly as it is, in his
+business matters, if he keeps up this general habit, people will
+say, "Oh! that's nothing but one of Mason's italic stories!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Look out, my boy! It wouldn't be the strangest
+thing in the world, if you had got into a habit something like this
+of Selden's, though it may not yet be half so strong. But keep a
+sharp look-out, at any rate. Take care that you never stretch the
+truth.</p>
+
+<a name="067"></a>
+<h2>THE CITY PIGEON.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0067.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0067.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'W'"></a> ith all is the beautiful lingerer in our
+crowded cities a favorite. All love this gentle bird, that,
+shunning the cool and quiet woods, stays with man in the hot and
+noisy town, and, amid strife and the war of passions, passes ever
+before him a living emblem of peace. "It is no light chance," says
+Willis, in his exquisite lines "To a City Pigeon,"</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0068.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0068.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE CITY PIGEON."></a><br>THE CITY PIGEON.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no light chance. Thou art set apart<br>
+Wisely by Him who has tamed the heart,<br>
+To stir the love for the bright and fair,<br>
+That else were sealed in this crowded air;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I sometimes dream<br>
+Angelic rays from thy pinions gleam."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In these same lines, how truly and how sweetly
+has he said:</p>
+
+<p>"A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!<br>
+Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word!<br>
+Thou'rt linked with all that's fresh and wild,<br>
+In the prison'd thoughts of a city child;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And thy glossy wings<br>
+Are its brightest image of moving things."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In the language of the same poet, how often have
+we said, as we looked forth upon the gentle bird:</p>
+
+<p>"Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove;<br>
+Thy daily visits have touched my love.<br>
+I watch thy coming, and list the note<br>
+That stirs so low in thy mellow throat;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And my joy is high<br>
+To catch the glance of thy gentle eye."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In his lines to "The Belfry Pigeon," Mr Willis
+has expressed most truthfully the feelings and thoughts which all
+have had for this gentle creature, which,</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Alone of the feathered race,<br>
+Doth look unscared on the human face."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">As we know of nothing on the subject more
+appropriate and beautiful than the address referred to, we will
+copy it for our young readers.</p>
+
+<h2>THE BELFRY PIGEON.</h2>
+
+<p>"On the cross beam under the Old South Bell,<br>
+The nest of a pigeon is builded well.<br>
+In summer and winter that bird is there,<br>
+Out and in with the morning air.<br>
+I love to see him track the street,<br>
+With his wary eye and active feet;<br>
+And I often watch him as he springs,<br>
+Circling the steeples with easy wings,<br>
+Till across the dial his shade has pass'd,<br>
+And the belfry edge is gained at last.<br>
+'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note,<br>
+And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;<br>
+There's a human look in its swelling breast,<br>
+And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;<br>
+And I often stop with the fear I feel&mdash;<br>
+He runs so close to the rapid wheel.<br>
+<br>
+"Whatever is rung on that noisy bell&mdash;<br>
+Chime of the hour or funeral knell&mdash;<br>
+The dove in the belfry must hear it well.<br>
+When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon&mdash;<br>
+When the sexton cheerily rings for noon&mdash;<br>
+When the clock strikes clear at morning light&mdash;<br>
+When the child is waked with 'nine at night'&mdash;<br>
+When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,<br>
+Filling the spirit with love of prayer&mdash;<br>
+Whatever tale in the bell is heard,<br>
+He broods on his folded feet unstirr'd,<br>
+Or, rising half in his rounded nest,<br>
+He takes the time to smooth his breast,<br>
+Then drops again with film&eacute;d eyes,<br>
+And sleeps as the last vibration dies.<br>
+<br>
+"Sweet bird! I would that I could be<br>
+A hermit in the crowd like thee!<br>
+With wings to fly to wood and glen.<br>
+Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men,<br>
+And daily, with unwilling feet,<br>
+I tread, like thee, the crowded street;<br>
+But, unlike me, when day is o'er,<br>
+Thou canst dismiss the world and soar;<br>
+Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,<br>
+Canst smooth the feathers on thy breast,<br>
+And drop, forgetful, to thy nest."</p>
+
+<a name="072"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0072.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0072.jpg" border="0" alt="A DAY IN THE WOODS."></a><br>A DAY IN THE WOODS.</p>
+
+<h2>A DAY IN THE WOODS.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">"School!" said Richard White, to himself;
+"School! I don't want to go to school. Why am I sent to school
+every day? What good is there in learning grammar, and arithmetic,
+and geography, and all them things? I don't like school, and I
+never did."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Dick!" called out a voice; and the lad, who had
+seated himself on a cellar door, and placed his satchel beside him,
+looked up, and met the cheerful face of one of his
+school-fellows.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"What are you sitting there for, Dick? Don't you
+hear the school bell?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes; I hear it, Bill."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then get up and come along, or you will be
+late."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't care if I am. I don't like to go to
+school."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You don't?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, indeed. I'd never go to school if I could
+help it. What's the use of so much learning? I'm going to a trade
+as soon as I get old enough; and Pete Elder says that a boy who
+don't know A B C, can learn a trade just as well as one who
+does."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know any thing about that," replied
+William Brown; "but father says, the more learning I get when a
+boy, the more successful in life will I be when a man; that is, if
+I make a good use of my learning."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"What good is grammar going to do a mechanic, I
+wonder?" said Richard, contemptuously. "What use will the double
+rule of three, or fractions, be to him?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"They may be of a great deal of use. Father says
+we cannot learn too much while we are boys. He says he never
+learned any thing in his life that did not come of use to him at
+some time or other."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Grammar, and geography, and double rule of
+three, will never be of any use to me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes, they will, Dick! So come along. The
+bell is nearly done ringing. Come, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No; I'm going out to the woods,"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come, Richard, come! That will be playing
+truant."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No; I've made my mind up not to go to school
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You'll be sorry for it, Dick, if you do stay
+away from school."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why will I?" said the boy, quickly. "Are you
+going to tell?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"If I should be asked about you, I will not tell
+a lie; but I don't suppose any one will inquire of me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then why will I be sorry?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You'll be sorry when you're a man."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Richard White laughed aloud at the idea of his
+being sorry when he became a man, for having neglected his school
+when a boy.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"If you are not going, I am," said William
+Brown, starting off and running as fast as he could. He arrived at
+the door of the schoolhouse just as the bell stopped ringing. In
+stopping to persuade Richard not to play truant, he had come near
+being too late.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">As soon as William left him, Richard White got
+up from the cellar door where he had been reclining lazily, and
+throwing his satchel over his shoulder, started for the woods. His
+books and satchel were in his way, and rather heavy to carry about
+with him for six or seven hours. But he did not think it prudent to
+leave them any where, for the person with whom they were left would
+suspect him of playing truant, and through that means his fault
+might come to the knowledge of his parents.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">After thinking over this, as he went on his way,
+it occurred to Richard that the satchel was as likely to betray him
+if carried along as if left at some store to be called for on his
+return. Finally, he concluded to ask for a newspaper at a shop.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">With this he wrapped up his satchel, and taking
+it under his arm, went on without any more fears of betrayal from
+this source.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">As soon as the foolish boy reached the woods, he
+hid his satchel, so as to get clear of the trouble it was to him,
+beside a large stone, and covered it with leaves and long grass.
+Then he felt free, and, as he thought, happy.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But it was not long before he got tired of
+rambling about alone. He listened, sometimes, to the birds, and
+sometimes tried, with stones, to kill the beautiful and innocent
+creatures. Then he thought how pleasant it would be to find a nest,
+and carry off the young ones; and he searched with great diligence
+for a long time, but could find no nest.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Once a little striped squirrel glided past him,
+and mounted a high tree. As it ran around and around the great
+trunk, appearing and disappearing at intervals, Richard tried to
+knock it off with stones. But his aim was not very true. Instead of
+hitting the squirrel, he managed to get a severe blow himself; for
+a stone which he threw very high, struck a large limb, and,
+bouncing back, fell upon his upturned face, and cut him badly.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">From that moment, all the pleasure he had felt
+since entering the woods was gone. The blood stained his shirt
+bosom, and covered his hand when he put it up to his face. Of
+course, the wound, and the blood upon his shirt, would betray him.
+This was his first thought, as he washed himself at a small stream.
+But, then, all at once it occurred to him&mdash;for evil suggestions are
+sure to be made to us when we are in the way to receive them&mdash;that
+it would be just as easy to say that a boy threw a stone, which
+struck him as he was walking along the street, as to say that he
+got hurt while in the woods. And, without stopping to think how
+wicked it would be to tell a lie, Richard determined to make this
+statement when he got home.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The smarting of the wound, and the uneasiness
+occasioned by a sight of the blood, so disturbed Richard's
+feelings, that he was unable to regain enough composure of mind to
+enjoy his day of freedom in the woods. By twelve o'clock, he was
+tired and hungry, and heartily wished himself at home. But it would
+not do to go now; for if he were to do so, his father would
+understand that he had not been to school. There was no alternative
+for him but to remain out in the lonely woods, without any thing to
+eat, for five hours longer. And a weary time it was for him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">At last the sun, which had been for a very long
+time, it seemed to him, descending toward the western horizon, sunk
+so low that he was sure it must be after five o'clock, and then,
+with sober feelings, he started for home. The day had disappointed
+him. He was far from feeling happy. When he thought of the wound on
+his face and the blood upon his bosom, he felt troubled. If he told
+the truth, he knew he would be punished, and if he told a lie, and
+was found out, punishment would as certainly follow.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">These were his thoughts and feelings when he
+came to the place where he had concealed his satchel. But, lo! his
+books were gone. Some one had discovered and carried them off.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Sadly enough, now, did Richard White return
+home. We will not pain our young readers with an account of his
+reception. The father already knew that his son had not been to
+school, for a man had found the satchel in the woods. Richard's
+name was on it, and this led the man to bring it to his father,
+with whom he was acquainted.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Richard never went to school again. On the very
+next week, he was sent to learn a trade, and he soon found that
+there was a great difference between a school-boy and an
+apprentice.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">William Brown continued to go to school two
+years longer, when he also went from home to learn a trade. He was
+then a good scholar, and had a fondness for books. Because he was
+learning a trade, he did not give up all other kinds of learning,
+but, whenever he had leisure, he applied himself to his books. Both
+he and Richard were free about the same time. Richard had learned
+his trade well, and was as good a workman as William; but he had
+not improved his mind. He had not been able to see the use that
+learning was going to be to a mechanic.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Fifteen years have passed since these two lads
+completed their terms of apprenticeship, and entered the world as
+men; and how do they now stand? Why, William Brown has a large
+manufactory of his own, and Richard White is one of his workmen. By
+his superior intelligence and enterprise, the former is able to
+serve the public interests by giving direction to the labors of a
+hundred men, and his reward is in proportion to the service he thus
+renders; while the latter serves the public interest to the extent
+of only one man's labors, and his reward is in exact ratio
+thereto.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Did Richard White gain any thing by his day in
+the woods? We think not. Is there any use in education to a
+mechanic? Let each of our young readers answer the question for
+himself.</p>
+
+<a name="081"></a>
+<h2>THE SPIDER AND THE HONEY-BEE.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FABLE FOR MANY IN GENERAL AND SOME IN
+PARTICULAR.</h3>
+
+<p>I.<br>
+<br>
+A bee who had chased after pleasure all day,<br>
+And homeward was lazily wending his way,<br>
+Fell in with a Spider, who called to the Bee:<br>
+"Good evening! I trust you are well," said he.<br>
+<br>
+II.<br>
+<br>
+The bee was quite happy to stop awhile there&mdash;<br>
+For indolence always has moments to spare&mdash;<br>
+"Good evening!" he said, with a very low bow,<br>
+"My health, sir, alas! 'tis quite delicate now.<br>
+<br>
+III.<br>
+<br>
+"From spring until autumn, from morning till night,<br>
+I'm obliged to be toiling with all my might;<br>
+My labors are wearing me out, and you know<br>
+I might as well starve, as to kill myself so."<br>
+<br>
+IV.<br>
+<br>
+The Spider pretended to pity the Bee&mdash;<br>
+For a cunning old hypocrite Spider was he&mdash;<br>
+"I'm sorry to see you so ill," he said;<br>
+And he whispered his wife, "He will have to be bled."<br>
+</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0082.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0082.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE BEE OUTSIDE THE WEB."></a><br>THE BEE OUTSIDE THE WEB.</p>
+
+V.<br>
+<br>
+"Some people&mdash;perhaps they are wiser than I&mdash;<br>
+Some people are in a great hurry to die;<br>
+Excuse me, but candor compels me to say,<br>
+'Tis wrong to be throwing one's life away.<br>
+<br>
+VI.<br>
+<br>
+"Your industry, sir, it may do very well<br>
+For the beaver's rude hut, or the honey-bee's cell;<br>
+But it never would suit a gay fellow like me;<br>
+I love to be idle&mdash;I love to be free.<br>
+<br>
+VII.<br>
+<br>
+"This hoarding of riches&mdash;this wasting of time,<br>
+In robbing the gardens and fields&mdash;'tis a crime!<br>
+And then to be guilty of suicide, too!<br>
+I tremble to think what a miser will do."<br>
+<br>
+VIII.<br>
+<br>
+'Tis strange the poor Bee was so stupid and blind.<br>
+"Mister Spider," said he, "you have spoken my mind;<br>
+There's something within me that seems to say,<br>
+I have toiled long enough, and 'tis better to play.<br>
+IX.<br>
+<br>
+"But how in the world shall I manage to live?<br>
+I might beg all my life, and nobody would give.<br>
+'Tis easy enough to be merry and sing,<br>
+But living on air is a different thing."<br>
+<br>
+X.<br>
+<br>
+The Spider was silent, and looked very grave&mdash;<br>
+'Twas a habit he had&mdash;the scheming old knave!<br>
+No Spider, intent on his labor of love,<br>
+Had more of the serpent, or less of the dove.<br>
+<br>
+XI.<br>
+<br>
+"To serve you would give me great pleasure," said he;<br>
+"Come into my palace, and tarry with me;<br>
+The Spider knows nothing of labor and care.<br>
+Come, you shall be welcome our bounty to share.<br>
+<br>
+XII.<br>
+<br>
+"I live like a king, and my wife like a queen,<br>
+In meadows where flowers are blooming and green;<br>
+'Tis sweet on the violet's bosom to lie,<br>
+And list to the stream that runs merrily by.<br>
+<br>
+XIII.<br>
+<br>
+"With us you shall mingle in scenes of delight,<br>
+All summer and winter, from morning till night;<br>
+And when 'neath the hills the sun sinks in the west,<br>
+Your head on a pillow of roses shall rest.<br>
+<br>
+XIV.<br>
+<br>
+"When miserly Bees shall return from their toils,<br>
+We'll catch them, and tie them, and feast on the spoils;<br>
+I'll lighten their burdens&mdash;I ought to know how&mdash;<br>
+My pantry is full of such gentlemen now."<br>
+<br>
+XV.<br>
+<br>
+The Bee did not wait to be urged any more,<br>
+But nodded his thanks, as he entered the door.<br>
+"Aha!" said the Spider, "I have you at last."<br>
+And he caught the poor urchin, and wound him up fast.<br>
+<br>
+XVI.<br>
+<br>
+The Bee, when aware of his perilous fate,<br>
+Recovered his wit, though a moment too late.<br>
+"O treacherous Spider! for shame!" said he,<br>
+"Is it thus you betray a poor, innocent Bee?"<br>
+<br>
+XVII.<br>
+<br>
+The cunning old Spider then laughed outright;<br>
+"Poor fellow!" he said, "you are in a sad plight!<br>
+Ha! ha! what a dunce you must be to suppose,<br>
+That the heart of a Spider should pity your woes!<br>
+<br>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0086.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0086.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE BEE INSIDE THE WEB."></a><br>THE BEE INSIDE THE WEB.</p>
+
+<br>
+XVIII.<br>
+<br>
+"I never could boast of much honor or shame,<br>
+Though a little acquainted with both by name;<br>
+But I think if the Bees can a brother betray,<br>
+We Spiders are quite as good people as they.<br>
+<br>
+XIX.<br>
+<br>
+"On the whole, you have lived long enough, I opine;<br>
+So now, by your leave, I will hasten to dine;<br>
+You'll make a good dinner, it must be confess'd,<br>
+And the world, I am thinking, will pardon the rest."<br>
+<br>
+XX.<br>
+<br>
+This lesson for every one, little and great,<br>
+Is taught in that vagabond's tragical fate:<br>
+<i>Of him who is scheming your friend to ensnare</i>,<br>
+<i>Unless you've a passion for Heeding, beware!</i> <br>
+<br>
+<a name="088"></a>
+<h2>EMMA LEE AND HER SIXPENCE.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0088.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0088.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'E'"></a> mma's aunt had given her a sixpence, and now
+the question was, what should she buy with it? "I'll you what I
+will do, mother," she said, changing her mind for the tenth
+time.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, dear, what have you determined upon
+now?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I'll save my sixpence until I get a good many
+more, and then I'll buy me a handsome wax doll. Wouldn't you do
+that, mother, if you were me?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"If I were you, I suppose I would do just as you
+will," replied Emma's mother, smiling.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But, mother, don't you think that would be a
+nice way to do? I get a good many pennies and sixpences, you know,
+and could soon save enough to buy me a beautiful wax doll."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think it would be better," said Mrs Lee, "for
+you to save up your money and buy something worth having."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Isn't a large wax doll worth having?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes! for a little girl like you."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then I'll save up my money, until I get enough
+to buy me a doll as big as Sarah Johnson's."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In about an hour afterward, Emma came to her
+mother, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I've just thought what I will do with my
+sixpence. I saw such a beautiful book at a store, yesterday! It was
+full of pictures, and the price was just sixpence. I'll buy that
+book."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But didn't you say, a little while ago, that
+you were going to save your money until you had enough to buy a
+doll?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I know I did, mother; but I didn't think about
+the book then. And it will take so long before I can save up money
+enough to get a new doll. I think I will buy the book."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Very well, dear," replied Mrs Lee.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Not long after, Emma changed her mind again.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">On the next day, her mother said to her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Your Aunt Mary is quite sick, and I am going to
+see her. Do you wish to go with me?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, mother, I should like to go. I am so sorry
+that Aunt Mary is sick. What ails her?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"She is never very well, and the least cold
+makes her sick. The last time she was here she took cold."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">As they were about leaving the house, Emma
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I'll take my sixpence along, and spend it,
+mother."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"What are you going to buy?" asked Mrs Lee.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know," replied Emma. "Sometimes I think
+I will buy some cakes; and then I think I will get a whole sixpence
+worth of cream candy, I like it so."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Have you forgotten the book?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, no! Sometimes I think I will buy the book.
+Indeed, I don't know what to buy."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In this undecided state of mind, Emma started
+with her mother to see her aunt. They had not gone far before they
+met a poor woman, with some very pretty bunches of flowers for
+sale. She carried them on a tray. She stopped before Mrs Lee and
+her little girl, and asked if they would not buy some flowers.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"How much are they a bunch?" asked Emma.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Sixpence," replied the woman.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Mother! I'll tell you what I will do with my
+sixpence," said Emma, her face brightening with the thought that
+came into her mind. "I will buy a bunch of flowers for Aunt Mary.
+You know how she loves flowers. Can't I do it, mother?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes, dear! Do it, by all means, if you
+think you can give up the nice cream candy, or the picture book,
+for the sake of gratifying your aunt."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Emma did not hesitate a moment, but selected a
+very handsome bunch of flowers, and paid her sixpence to the woman
+with a feeling of real pleasure.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Aunt Mary was very much pleased with the bouquet
+Emma brought her.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"The sight of these flowers, and their
+delightful perfume, really makes me feel better," she said, after
+she had held them in her hand for a little while; "I am very much
+obliged to my niece, for thinking of me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">That evening, Emma looked up from a book which
+her mother had bought her as they returned home from Aunt Mary's,
+and with which she had been much entertained, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think the spending of my sixpence gave me a
+double pleasure."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"How so, dear?" asked Mrs Lee.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I made aunt happy, and the flower woman too.
+Didn't you notice how pleased the flower woman looked? I wouldn't
+wonder if she had little children at home, and thought about the
+bread that sixpence would buy them when I paid it to her. Don't you
+think she did?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I cannot tell that, Emma," replied her mother;
+"but I shouldn't at all wonder if it were as you suppose. And so it
+gives you pleasure to think you have made others happy?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Indeed it does."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Acts of kindness," replied Emma's mother,
+"always produce a feeling of pleasure. This every one may know. And
+it is the purest and truest pleasure we experience in this world.
+Try and remember this little incident of the flowers as long as you
+live, my child; and let the thought of it remind you that every act
+of self-denial brings to the one who makes it a sweet delight."</p>
+
+<a name="093"></a>
+<h2>UNCLE RODERICK'S STORIES.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0093.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0093.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'U'"></a> ncle Roderick was an old bachelor&mdash;as
+thorough going an old bachelor as any one need wish to see. Some
+folks said he had a great many droll whims in his head. I don't
+know how that was; but this I know, that he loved every body, and
+almost every body loved him. He had evidently seen better days,
+when, in my boyhood, I first made his acquaintance; or rather, he
+had been "better off in the world," as the phrase goes. Whether he
+had been happier, may admit of a question; for the wealthiest man
+is not always the happiest. There were marks about him which seemed
+to show that he had been higher on the wheel of fortune, and that
+the change in his condition had had a chastening effect&mdash;just as
+some fruits become mellower and better after being bruised a little
+and frost-bitten. He was a great lover of children, and withal an
+inveterate story-teller.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">His memory must have been pretty good, I think;
+for he would often tell stories to his little friends by the hour,
+about what happened to him when he was a boy. Some of these stories
+were funny enough; but the old gentleman usually managed to tack on
+some good moral to the end of them. By your leave, boys and girls,
+I will serve up two or three of these stories for an evening's
+entertainment. They will bear telling the second time, I guess, and
+I will repeat them, as nearly as my recollection will allow, in the
+good old bachelor's own words.</p>
+
+<hr width="10%">
+<a name="094"></a>
+<h3>STORY FIRST.</h3>
+
+<h4>HONESTY THE BEST POLICY.</h4>
+
+<p align="justify">A person is, on the whole, a great deal better
+off to be honest. Dishonesty is a losing game. A wise man was once
+asked what one gained by not telling the truth. The reply was, "Not
+to be believed when he speaks the truth." He was right. There are a
+great many other respects, too, in which a dishonest person suffers
+by his dishonesty. I must tell you what a lie once cost me. I was
+about nine years old, perhaps. In justice to myself, I ought to say
+that I was not much addicted to this vice; but told a fib once in a
+great while, as I am afraid too many other little boys, pretty good
+on the whole, sometimes allow themselves to do. One very cool day
+in the spring of the year, my father, who was a farmer, was
+ploughing, and I was riding horse. I didn't relish the task very
+well, as I was rather cold, and old Silvertail was full of his
+mischief. It was a little more than I could do to manage him.
+Moreover, there was some rare sport going on at home.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Father," said I, after bearing the penance for
+the greater part of the forenoon, "how much longer must I stay in
+the field?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"About an hour," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">An hour seemed a great while in the
+circumstances, and I ventured to say, "I wish I could go home
+now&mdash;my head aches."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I am very sorry," said my father; "but can't
+you stay till it is time to go home to dinner?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I thought not&mdash;my headache was getting to be
+pretty severe.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well," said he, taking me off the horse, and no
+doubt suspecting that my disease was rather in my <i>heart</i> than
+my head&mdash;a suspicion far too well-founded, I am sorry to
+say&mdash;"well, you may go home. I don't want you to work if you are
+sick. Go straight home, and tell your mother that I say you must
+take a good large dose of rhubarb. Tell her that I think it will do
+you a great deal of good!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">There was no alternative. I went home, of
+course, and delivered the message to my mother. I told her,
+however, that I thought my head was better, hoping to avoid taking
+the nauseous medicine. But it was of no use. It was too late. She
+understood my case as well as my father did. She knew well enough
+my disease was laziness. So she prepared the rhubarb&mdash;an unusually
+generous dose, I always thought&mdash;and I had to swallow every morsel
+of it. Dear me! how bitter it was! It makes me sick to think of a
+dose of rhubarb, let me be ever so well. I am sure I would have
+rode horse all day&mdash;and all night, too, for that matter&mdash;rather
+than to have been doctored after that sort. But it cured my
+laziness pretty effectually, and it was a long time before I told
+another lie, too.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Honesty is the best policy," children, depend
+upon it, though there is another and a better reason, as you very
+well know, why you should always speak the truth.</p>
+
+<hr width="10%">
+<a name="097"></a>
+<h3>STORY SECOND.</h3>
+
+<h4>HOW A ROGUE FEELS WHEN HE IS CAUGHT.</h4>
+
+<p align="justify">When I was a little boy, as near as I can
+recollect, about nine years of age, I went with my brother one
+bright Saturday afternoon, when there was no school, to visit at
+the house of Captain Perry. The captain was esteemed one of the
+kindest and best-natured neighbors in Willow Lane, where my father
+lived; and Julian, the captain's eldest son, very near my own age,
+was, among all the boys at school, my favorite play-fellow. Captain
+Perry had two bee-hives in his garden, where we were all three at
+play; and as I watched the busy little fellows at work bringing in
+honey from the fields, all at once I thought it would be a very
+fine thing to thrust a stick into a hole which I saw in one of the
+hives, and bring out some of the honey. My brother and Julian did
+not quite agree with me in this matter. They thought, as nearly as
+I can recollect, that there were three good reasons against this
+mode of obtaining honey: first, I should be likely to get pretty
+badly stung; secondly, the act would be a very mean and cowardly
+piece of mischief; and, thirdly, I should be found out.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Still, I was bent on the chivalrous undertaking.
+I procured a stick of the right size, and marched up to the hive to
+make the attack. While I was deliberating, with the stick already a
+little way in the hole, whether I had better thrust it in suddenly,
+and then scamper away as fast as my legs could carry me, or proceed
+so deliberately that the bees would not suspect what was the
+matter, Captain Perry happened to come into the garden; and I was
+so busy with my mischief, that I did not notice him until he
+advanced within a rod or two of the bee-hives. He mistrusted what I
+was about. "Roderick," said he. I looked around. I am sure I would
+have given all I was worth in the world, not excepting my little
+pony, which I regarded as a fortune, if, by some magic or other, I
+could have got out of this scrape. But it was too late. I hung my
+head down, as may be imagined, while the captain went on with his
+speech: "Roderick, if I were in your place (I heartily wished he
+was in my place, but I did not say so; I said nothing, in fact), if
+I were in your place, I would not disturb those poor, harmless
+bees, in that way. If you should put that stick into the hive, as
+you were thinking of doing, it would take the bees a whole week to
+mend up their cells. That is not the way we get honey. I don't
+wonder you are fond of honey, though. Children generally are fond
+of it; and if you will go into the house, Mrs Perry will give you
+as much as you wish, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This was twenty years ago&mdash;perhaps more. I have
+met Captain Perry a hundred times since; yet even now I cannot look
+upon his frank, honest countenance, but I distinctly call to mind
+the Quixotic adventure with the bees, and I feel almost as much
+ashamed as I did when I was detected.</p>
+
+<a name="100"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0099.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0099.jpg" border="0" alt="THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER."></a><br>THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER.</p>
+
+<h3>STORY THIRD.</h3>
+
+<h4>THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER.</h4>
+
+<p align="justify">I never shall forget what a sensation it used to
+produce in our family, years ago, when the newspaper came. We
+children&mdash;there were three of us, one brother and two sisters&mdash;used
+to watch for the post, on the all-important day, as anxiously as a
+cat ever watched for a mouse. Peter Packer, the bearer of these
+weekly dispatches, deserves a little notice. He was a queer man, at
+least he had that reputation in our neighborhood. As long as I can
+remember, he went his rounds; and, for aught I know, he is going to
+this day.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Peter's old mare&mdash;she must be mentioned, for the
+two are almost inseparable&mdash;was as odd as he was. I should think
+she belonged to the same general class and order with Don Quixote's
+renowned Rosinante; but she had one peculiarity which is not put
+down in the description of Rosinante, to wit, the faculty of
+diagonal or oblique locomotion. This mare of Peter's went forward
+something after the manner of a crab, and a little like a ship with
+the wind abeam, as the sailors say. It was a standing topic of
+dispute among us boys, whether the animal went head foremost or
+not. But that did not matter much, so that she made her
+circuit&mdash;and she always did, punctually; that is, she always came
+some time or another. Sometimes she was a day or two later than
+usual; but this never occurred except in the summer season, and it
+was in this wise: she had a most passionate love for the practical
+study of botany; and not being allowed, when at home, to pursue her
+favorite science as often as she wished, owing partly to a want of
+specimens, and partly to her master's desire to educate her in the
+more solid branches, she frequently took the liberty to divest
+herself of her bridle, when standing at the door of her master's
+customers, and to gallop away in search of flowers. She was a great
+lover of botany, so much so, that, as I said before, her desire to
+obtain specimens sometimes interfered a little with her other
+literary engagements; and I am sure I can forgive her&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>"For e'en her failings leaned to virtue's
+side."</blockquote>
+
+Just so it was with Peter himself. No storm, or tempest, or
+snow-bank, could detain him&mdash;that is, not longer than a day or
+two&mdash;in his weekly round. But he loved the theory of making money
+as much as his mare loved botany; and he was a practical student,
+too, and the road which he traveled afforded a good many
+opportunities both for extending his knowledge of that science and
+of practically applying his principles. So, between the two, our
+newspaper sometimes got thoroughly aired before it came to the
+house. But Peter was punctual&mdash;I insist upon it&mdash;for he always came
+some time or another.
+<p align="justify">When the paper did come, we literally devoured
+its contents. With us it was an oracle. If the "Courier" affirmed
+or denied a thing, that was enough for us. It was an end to all
+debate. How confiding children are! He who has read "Robinson
+Crusoe" when a boy, finds it almost impossible to regard it a fable
+when he is a man. The newspaper, that makes its weekly visit to the
+family circle in the country, leaves the marks of its influence
+upon the mind and the morals of the child. It forms his tastes and
+controls his character. How careful, then, should parents be, in
+the selection of periodicals to be the companions of their
+children.</p>
+
+<hr width="10%">
+<a name="103"></a>
+<h3>STORY FOURTH.</h3>
+
+<h4>THE CIDER PLOT.</h4>
+
+<p align="justify">When I was an apprentice, some years ago, I
+lived&mdash;no matter where, and served&mdash;no matter whom. There were
+three apprentices besides myself; and it seems necessary to say,
+that, at the time when the incident happened which I am about to
+relate, we had neither of us completed that branch of husbandry
+called the sowing of wild oats; and as the soil was very favorable
+for the development of that species of grain, we were perhaps a
+little too industriously engaged in its cultivation. We were in
+great haste to have the oats all sowed in good season.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One day our employer bought a cast of
+cider&mdash;Newark cider, I believe they called it&mdash;and the greater
+portion of it was nicely bottled, and placed in a dark corner of
+the cellar, to be used, not for making vinegar, or mince pies, but
+for a very different purpose&mdash;which may be surmised by such as
+remember that in those days the juice of the apple had a much
+better reputation than it has now. We were allowed our share of the
+beverage. But we were not satisfied. We resolved ourselves into a
+sort of committee of the whole, one afternoon; and after a long and
+somewhat spirited debate, came to the unanimous conclusion that, in
+the course of human events, it became necessary to employ the most
+effective measures to procure additional supplies from the cellar.
+Now it so happened, that these measures were not of the most
+peaceable and honorable kind. Such was their nature, in fact, that
+if we had been discovered in the act of resorting to them, it would
+no doubt have been deemed necessary, in the general course of human
+events, that we should be soundly whipped.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The plan was to seize a bottle once in a while,
+something after the manner of privateers; though I believe the
+trade of privateering is regarded as piracy, now-a-days. How times
+are changed! We were to go on this expedition in rotation, from the
+oldest downward. We commenced, and two of us had performed the
+feat. It came George Reese's turn next. You didn't know George, I
+suppose. But I wish you had known him. I think you could appreciate
+the story better, if you knew him as well as I did. Well, George
+went down cellar, with his pitcher in his hand, thirsting for cider
+and glory. You must know that there was a flight of stairs that led
+directly to the cellar from the room we occupied. You should know,
+too, that we went down without a light, and felt our way in the
+dark. George had not been below two minutes, when we heard a report
+from the cellar very like the discharge of a pistol. It was loud
+enough to alarm the whole house. We were frightened. We had reason
+to be. Who knows, thought we, but they have set a spring-gun for
+us, and poor George is badly wounded? We waited in silence, and
+with not a little anxiety, for our hero to come up.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">He came at last, and a sorry looking fellow he
+was. He was covered from head to foot with yeast! The cook had
+placed her bottle of emptyings, tightly corked, in the village of
+cider bottles; and the truth flashed upon us at once, that George
+had made a mistake, and captured the wrong bottle; and the most of
+its contents, being a little angry at the time, were discharged
+into his face. But this was not all. George thought he had
+encountered a cider bottle, after all, for he could see nothing in
+the cellar, and he had poured what little remained of his yeast
+into the pitcher, and brought it up with him. When he made his
+appearance, there was such a noisy trio of laughter as that old
+kitchen had seldom heard before. This brought in the cook, and she
+laughed as loudly as the rest of us. Then, to crown all, the lady
+of the house, hearing the noise, came to see what we were all
+about; and she laughed the loudest of any body. I shall never
+forget the image of George Reese, as he entered that room. It gives
+me a pain in the side now, only to think of it.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">MORAL 1.&mdash;Before undertaking any enterprise
+similar to this cider-plot, it is desirable to count the cost.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">MORAL 2.&mdash;In your pursuit after glory, take care
+that you do not come in contact with something else that is not so
+pleasant.</p>
+
+<hr width="10%">
+<a name="107"></a>
+<h3>STORY FIFTH.</h3>
+
+<h4>MY FIRST HUNTING-EXCURSION.</h4>
+
+<p align="justify">I shall never forget the first time I sallied
+out into the woods to try my hand at hunting. Carlo, the old family
+dog, went with me, and he was about as green in the matter of
+securing game as myself. We were pretty well matched, I think. I
+played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can recollect, and
+Carlo was a second Ralph. I had a most excellent fowling-piece&mdash;so
+they said. It began its career in the French war, and was a very
+veteran in service. Besides this ancient and honorable weapon, I
+was provided with all the means and appliances necessary for
+successful hunting. I was "armed and equipped as the law directs,"
+to employ the words of those semi-annual documents that used to
+summon me to training.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Well, it was sometime before we&mdash;Carlo and
+I&mdash;started any game. Wind-mills were scarce. For one, I began to
+fear we should have to return without any adventure to call forth
+our skill and courage. But the brightest time is often just before
+day, and so it was in this instance. Carlo began presently to bark,
+and I heard a slight rustling among the leaves in the woods. Sure
+enough, there was visible a large animal of some kind, though I
+could not determine precisely what it was, on account of the
+underbrush. However, I satisfied myself that it was rare game, at
+any rate; and that point being settled, I took aim and fired.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Carlo immediately ran to the poor victim. He was
+a courageous fellow, that Carlo, especially after the danger was
+over. Many a time I have known him make demonstrations as fierce as
+a tiger when people rode by our house, though he generally took
+care not to insult them until they were at a convenient distance.
+Carlo had no notion of being killed, knowing very well that if he
+were dead, he could be of no service whatever to the world.
+Hudibras said well when he said,</p>
+
+<blockquote>"That he who fights and runs away,<br>
+ May live to fight another day."</blockquote>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0108.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0108.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"RODERICK'S FIRST SHOT."></a><br>RODERICK'S FIRST SHOT.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">That was good logic. But Carlo went farther than
+this, even. He was for running away before he fought at all; and so
+he always did, except when the enemy ran away first, in which case
+he ran after him, as every chivalrous dog should. In the case of
+the animal which I shot at, Carlo bounded to his side when the gun
+was discharged, as I said before. For myself, I did not venture
+quite so soon, remembering that caution is the parent of safety. By
+and by, however, I mustered courage, and advanced to the spot.
+There lay the victim of my first shot! It was one of my father's
+sheep! Poor creature! She was sick, I believe, and went into a
+thicket, near a stream of water, where she could die in peace.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I don't know whether I hit her or not. I didn't
+look to see, but ran home as fast as my legs would carry me. Thus
+ended the first hunting excursion in which I ever engaged, and,
+though I was a mere boy then, and am somewhat advanced now, it
+proved to be my last.</p>
+
+<a name="111"></a>
+<h2>SATURDAY IN WINTER.</h2>
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p>Our tasks are all done, come away! come away!<br>
+For a right merry time&mdash;for a Saturday play.<br>
+See! the bright sun is shining right bravely on high;<br>
+Make haste, or he'll soon be half over the sky.<br>
+Come! first with our sleds down the glassy hill side,<br>
+And then on our skates o'er the river we'll glide.</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Harry! sit firm on your sled&mdash;here we go!<br>
+Swift&mdash;swift as an arrow let fly from a bow!<br>
+Hurrah! downward rushing, how gayly we speed,<br>
+Like an Arab away on his fleet-going steed.<br>
+Hurrah! bravely done! Down the icy hill side,<br>
+Swift&mdash;swift as an arrow, again let us glide.</p>
+
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>And now for the river! How smooth and how bright,<br>
+Like a mirror it sleeps in the flashing sunlight.<br>
+Be sure, brother Harry, to strap your skates well;<br>
+Last time you remember how heavy you fell.<br>
+Now away! swift away! why, Harry! not down?<br>
+Are you hurt? You must take better care of your<br>
+crown.</p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>Up, up, my good brother! now steady! start fair!<br>
+Away we go! swift through the keen, frosty air.<br>
+Down again! Bless me, Harry! your skates can't be<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;right&mdash;<br>
+Just wait till I see&mdash;no&mdash;but now they are tight.<br>
+Here we go again! merry as school-boys can be,<br>
+From books, pens, and pencils, and black board, set free.</p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>Tired, at last, of our sport, home to dinner we run,<br>
+And find that, two hours ago, dinner was done.<br>
+But our meat and potatoes we relish quite well,<br>
+Though cold&mdash;and the reason we scarcely need tell.<br>
+Five hours spent in scudding and skating, I ween,<br>
+'Twould give to such lads as we, appetites keen.</p>
+
+<p>VI.</p>
+
+<p>At last the dim twilight succeeds to the day;<br>
+Our week's work is ended, and ended our play.<br>
+'Tis Saturday night, and we know with the morn,<br>
+Another dear Sabbath of rest will be born.<br>
+O'er wearied, we sink into slumber profound,<br>
+Assured that God's angels are watching around.</p>
+
+<a name="113"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0112.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0112.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER."></a><br>ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.</p>
+
+<h2>ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come, Rover!" said Harry, as he passed a fine
+old Newfoundland dog that lay on a mat at the door; "come, Rover! I
+am going down to the river to sail my boat, and I want you to go
+with me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Rover opened his large eyes, and looked lazily
+at his little master.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come! Rover! Rover!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But the dog didn't care to move, and so Harry
+went off to the river side alone. He had not been gone a great
+while, before a thought of her boy came suddenly into the mother's
+mind. Remembering that he had a little vessel, and that the river
+was near, it occurred to her that he might have gone there.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Instantly her heart began to throb with
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Is Harry with you?" she called up to Harry's
+father, who was in his study. But Harry's father said he was not
+there.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I'm afraid he's gone to the river with his
+boat," said the mother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"To the river!" And Mr Lee dropped his pen, and
+came quickly down. Taking up his hat, he went hurriedly from the
+house. Rover was still lying upon the mat, with his head upon his
+paws and his eyes shut.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Rover!" said his master, in a quick, excited
+voice, "where is Harry? Has he gone to the river? Away and see!
+quick!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The dog must have understood every word, for he
+sprang eagerly to his feet, and rushed toward the river. Mr Lee
+followed as fast as he could run. When he reached the river bank,
+he saw his little boy in the water, with Rover dragging him toward
+the shore. He was just in time to receive the half-drowned child in
+his arms, and carry him home to his mother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Harry, who remained insensible, was placed in a
+warm bed. He soon, however, revived, and in an hour or two was
+running about again. But after this, Rover would never leave the
+side of his little master, when he wandered beyond the garden gate.
+Wherever you found Harry, there Rover was sure to be&mdash;sometimes
+walking by his side, and sometimes lying on the grass, with his big
+eyes watching every movement.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Once Harry found his little vessel, which had
+been hidden away since he went with it to the river, and, without
+his mother's seeing him, he started again for the water. Rover, as
+usual, was with him. On his way to the river, he saw some flowers,
+and, in order to gather them, put his boat down upon the grass.
+Instantly Rover picked it up in his mouth, and walked back toward
+the house with it. After going a little way, he stopped, looked
+around, and waited until Harry had got his hand full of flowers.
+The child then saw that Rover had his boat, and tried to get it
+from him; but Rover played around him, always keeping out of his
+reach, and retreating toward the house, until he got back within
+the gate. Then he bounded into the house, and laid the boat at the
+feet of Harry's mother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Harry was a little angry with the good old dog,
+at first, but when his mother explained to him what Rover meant, he
+hugged him around the neck, and said he would never go down to the
+river again any more.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Harry is a man now, and Rover has long since
+been dead; but he often thinks of the dear old dog that saved him
+from drowning when he was a child; and it gives him great pleasure
+to remember that he never beat Rover, as some boys beat their dogs,
+when they are angry, and was never unkind to him. Had it been
+otherwise, the thought would have given him great pain.</p>
+
+<a name="117"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0116.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0116.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"SOMETHING WRONG."></a><br>SOMETHING WRONG.</p>
+
+<h2>SOMETHING WRONG.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">What's the matter here? There is something
+wrong. It is clear that the little boy in the picture is not
+receiving kind treatment at the hands of his sister. But what is
+she doing to him? Not pulling his ear, we hope. Something is wrong;
+what can it be? We must try and make it out. There is a whip and a
+top on the floor, and also a chair thrown down, to which a string
+is tied.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The little boy, we suppose, was whipping his
+top, while his sister was playing with the chair.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Take care, now, Johnny," says the sister, as
+the lash of her brother's whip comes every little while close to
+her face; "take care, or you will cut me in the eyes."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But Johnny either doesn't hear, or doesn't heed,
+and keeps on whipping his top.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There, now!" says Anna, "you came as near as
+could be to striking me. I wish you would go out into the passage
+or down into the dining-room with your top."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"John," says mamma, looking up from her work,
+"you must be careful and not cut your sister with that whip."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, ma'am," replies Johnny, and keeps on with
+his sport as carelessly as ever.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Presently there is a cry, and then an angry
+exclamation. The lash of Johnny's whip has fallen with a smarting
+stroke on Anna's neck. The little girl, without waiting to reflect,
+follows the impulse of her feelings, and seeks to punish her
+brother by pinching and pulling his ears.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This is the story of the picture, and we are
+sorry it will not bear a more favorable explanation.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">We do not think that any of our young readers
+will approve the conduct of either of the children. Undoubtedly,
+Johnny was wrong not to have been more careful how he threw his
+lash about. Anna had as much right to be in the room as he had, and
+if Johnny wanted to whip his top, it was his place to do it so
+cautiously as not in the least to endanger his sister's face and
+eyes; and he deserved to have his top taken from him as a
+punishment for his carelessness and indifference; and no doubt this
+was done by his mother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">And Anna was wrong, likewise, for permitting her
+angry feelings to so carry her away as to lead her to hurt her
+brother, in revenge for what he had done to her. So, you see,
+Johnny's wrong act was the cause of a still greater departure from
+right in his sister. If Johnny had loved his sister, he would have
+been much more careful how he used his whip; and if Anna had loved
+her brother, she would never have been tempted to strike him or
+pull his ear, even if he had hurt her.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">It is a very sad thing for little brothers and
+sisters to quarrel with each other.</p>
+
+<blockquote>"Birds in their little nests agree,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And 'tis a shameful sight,<br>
+When children of one family,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Fall out, and chide, and fight."</blockquote>
+
+<p align="justify">We hope, among all our little readers, there is
+not a brother and sister who have quarreled&mdash;who have ever called
+each other hard names&mdash;or, worse, who have ever lifted their tiny
+hands to hurt each other.</p>
+
+<a name="121"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0120.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0120.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE FAVORITE CHILD."></a><br>THE FAVORITE CHILD.</p>
+
+<h2>THE FAVORITE CHILD.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">In a very pretty little village not many miles
+from N&mdash;&mdash;, in Connecticut, lived Susan Meredith. She was the
+youngest of three sisters, the eldest of whom could not be more
+than twelve or thirteen years of age. A year or two before the
+period when our history of this little group commences, the mother
+had gone to her rest.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Weighed down with a sorrow too heavy to be
+borne, and of a nature too delicate to be confided to others, she
+sank under it while in the noon of life, and died commending her
+children to God. Susan&mdash;little Sue, as she was frequently
+called&mdash;young as she was, remembered a thousand incidents connected
+with the departed one, and seemed, so late as the time at which our
+story begins, to be never happier than when her mother was the
+theme of conversation.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">There was something remarkable in this. One
+reason for it might have been, that the surviving parent of these
+sisters, though once a kind and affectionate father, was now so
+altered by habits of intemperance, that they found very little
+enjoyment in his society. But there was another reason. Little Sue
+was an unusually thoughtful, serious child, for one of her years.
+Was there not another reason, still? I do not know. I cannot tell
+what words God may whisper to the child that loves him; but this I
+know, that little Sue talked much of heaven, and seemed to have
+learned more of the language of heaven than men can teach.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One bright Saturday, in the early spring time,
+when there was no school, these sisters might have been seen
+winding their way through the woods, not far from the house where
+they lived, searching for the first wild flowers. Little Sue, the
+youngest, was very happy, but, as usual, more grave than the other
+sisters. By and by, wearied with their walk, they sat down under
+the shadow, of a tree, and talked a great while. At first, the
+conversation was about birds and flowers; but Sue soon gave a
+serious turn to it.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I wonder," said she, "if dear mother has pretty
+flowers in heaven. I hope so&mdash;she loved them so well. Do you
+remember the little monthly rose she wanted we should bring into
+her room, just before she died? How happy she was, when one of us
+went and brought it to her bed. And she went to heaven so soon
+after that! Oh, I think there must be flowers up there in the sky,
+or she would not have thought of them and loved them so, when she
+was dying. Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">And she was silent. So were her sisters, awhile.
+Thoughts of heaven made them serious. They were sad, too. When the
+youngest&mdash;their darling Sue&mdash;conversed in this strain, a cloud
+always came over their sunny faces. They could scarcely tell why it
+was so; for they, too, loved to think of heaven. But the language
+of their sister seemed to them to belong to another world; and
+often, in the midst of their brightest hopes, would come the fear,
+like a thunderbolt, that God would crush that cherished flower, and
+remove her from their embrace while she was young.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Sue," at length said Eliza, the eldest sister,
+"why do you always talk so much about heaven?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know," was the reply; "perhaps, because
+I think a good deal about it. I dreamed last night"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, I thought so," said Maria, playfully
+interrupting her sister; "I should think the little fairies were
+playing hide and seek all around your pillow every night. I wish
+they would whisper in my ears as they do in yours. Why, the naughty
+things hardly ever speak to me, and when they do, they tell a very
+different story from those they tell you. It is generally about
+falling down from a church steeple, or something of that kind.
+Well, what did they say to you this time, dear?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never had such a dream before," said the
+favorite, her face glowing with a new, almost an unearthly
+radiance; "I mean I never had one just like it. When dear mother
+died, you remember I told you a dream about the angels. Last night
+I thought they came to me again, and I saw mother, too, so
+clearly!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">She stopped, and her eyes fell. She seemed
+almost sorry that she had said as much; for she had not forgotten
+that the former dream to which she alluded had caused her sisters
+pain, and she thought, that perhaps she should make them unhappy
+again, if she related her dream of the night before. But her
+sisters begged her to go on, and she did so.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"When I went to sleep," said she, "I was
+thinking of&mdash;of&mdash;what father had said to me"&mdash;and she burst into a
+flood of tears. Her sisters wept, too; for they well remembered
+that their father had come home intoxicated that night, and that he
+had spoken very harshly to them all, and especially to the
+youngest. They could not say much to console her. What could they
+say? Silently they wept, and by their tears and embraces they told
+her how deeply they sympathized with her, and how much they would
+do for her, if they could. When the little dreamer was able to go
+on, she said,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I was thinking about this when I went to sleep.
+I thought I was crying, and wondering why God should let dear
+mother die, and leave us all alone, when I heard some one say,
+'Look up,' I looked up in the sky, and all the stars were windows,
+and I saw through them. I saw heaven&mdash;so beautiful&mdash;so beautiful! I
+saw mother looking out of one of these windows, and she smiled, as
+she did when we brought the rose to her bed-side. I heard her call
+my name, and she reached her arms toward me, and said, 'You may
+come,' Oh, this was not like other dreams"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Don't think of it, dear sister; don't think of
+it any more," said Eliza. "You was not well last night, and I have
+often heard, that when people are ill, their dreams are more apt to
+be disturbed. But we will not say any more about it now, dear."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No," said Maria; "we shall all feel too sad, if
+we do." And she made an effort to be cheerful; though tears stood
+in her eyes as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know why it makes others feel sad to
+think of heaven," said the favorite. "I should love dearly to go
+there."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But then it is so dreadful to die!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I know it; but mother was so happy when she
+died!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Would you be willing to leave your sisters,
+dear Sue?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No; not unless I could see my mother and
+Christ. Oh, I do love Christ more than all the rest of my friends!
+Do you think that is wrong?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The three sisters slowly and thoughtfully bent
+their steps homeward, and just as the sun was setting, and the
+western clouds were spread with the beauty and glory of twilight,
+they entered that cottage which, though the abode of sorrow, was
+yet dear and sacred to them, because it was once the home of their
+mother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">From that time, the gentle, loving, thoughtful
+little Sue, faded&mdash;faded as a flower in the autumn wind. She had
+not been well for weeks; and soon it was evident that she was
+rapidly declining. Was her dream a cause or an effect&mdash;a cause of
+her decline, or an effect of an illness already preying upon her
+frail system? Perhaps we cannot tell. There is something very
+remarkable about many dreams. It is not easy to account for them
+all, by what is known of the laws of the mind. But we must not stop
+now to inquire into this matter.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Step by step, that cherished sister went
+downward to the grave; and before the summer had come, while the
+early violet and the pure anemone were still in bloom, God called
+her home. Peacefully and beautifully her sun went down. "They have
+come," she said. So died the youngest&mdash;the favorite child.</p>
+
+<a name="129"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0128.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0128.jpg" border="0" alt="THE MINE."></a><br>THE MINE.</p>
+
+<h2>THE MINE.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">There are three kingdoms in nature&mdash;the Mineral
+kingdom, the Vegetable kingdom, and the Animal kingdom&mdash;the former
+for the sake of the latter, and all for the sake of man. Without
+the Vegetable kingdom animals could not exist, and without the
+Mineral kingdom vegetables could not exist.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">It is also worthy of remark, that in all the
+inferior kingdoms of nature, there is an image of what is superior.
+The lowest of all the kingdoms is the Mineral kingdom, where every
+thing takes a fixed form, and where all changes are the work of
+centuries, instead of days and months, as in the Vegetable and
+Animal kingdoms. Yet, in this dull, inert kingdom, we find a
+certain image of the one next above, in the upright or orderly
+forms into which many of its substances arrange themselves. Under
+circumstances of more than usual freedom, particles of matter in
+this kingdom will assume shapes so nearly resembling those of the
+Vegetable kingdom, that many were at first disposed to conclude
+that they were mere petrifactions; as in the case of formations at
+the bottom of the ocean, and those that take place in caverns. But
+we will not wonder at this, when we remember, that the use of the
+Mineral kingdom is to sustain the Vegetable kingdom, in order that
+the latter may sustain the Animal kingdom. Use, it must be
+remembered, is the great law that pervades, sustains, and holds in
+harmonious order, the whole universe.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In the Vegetable kingdom we see a still nearer
+approach to man. There is motion and life&mdash;not conscious life, but
+a kind of insensible existence. Nearly all the members of this
+kingdom elevate themselves toward heaven, and stand upright, like
+men.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In the Animal kingdom there is still greater
+perfection of life and freedom. Beasts move over the earth, birds
+fly through the air, and fishes change their places, at will, in
+the sea. This is the highest and most perfect kingdom, and it is
+for the sake of this that the others exist. And, as was just said,
+all three are for the sake of man. They go to sustain his natural
+life, while he remains in this world.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The variety and beauty in the two higher
+kingdoms are displayed to the eyes of all. But the wonders of the
+Mineral kingdom are hidden beneath the surface. Mines have to be
+opened, in order to obtain the metals and precious stones that the
+earth hides in her bosom; and man can only obtain them through hard
+and patient labor. Hundreds of feet below the surface of the
+ground, the miner, with no light to direct his labor but that given
+him by his dimly burning safety-lamp, toils on, unconscious of the
+day's opening or decline. The sun does not rise nor set for him. He
+is not warned by the home-returning bee, the dimly falling shadows
+of evening, nor the sudden cry of the night-bird, that the hour of
+rest has come. But the body cannot endure labor beyond a certain
+number of hours. Tired nature calls for repose, and the call must
+be obeyed. Even the miner must have his hours of rest; and then he
+comes forth, it may be, from his gloomy place of labor, once more
+into the sunlight; or sinks to sleep in the dark chambers where he
+toils for bread.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">When you look at a piece of metal, whether it be
+gold, silver, copper, or iron, remember that it has been won from
+its hidden place, deep in the solid earth, by the hard labor of
+man.</p>
+
+<hr width="33%">
+<a name="132"></a>
+<h3>THE MINER.</h3>
+
+<p>Down where the daylight never comes<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Toileth the miner on;<br>
+He sees not the golden morning break&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;He sees not the setting sun.<br>
+<br>
+Dimly his lamp in the dark vault burns,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And he sits on the miner's hard floor,<br>
+Toiling, toiling, toiling on;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Toiling for precious ore!<br>
+<br>
+The air is wet; for the dew and rain,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Drank by the thirsty ground,<br>
+Have won their way to his dark retreat,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And are trickling all around&mdash;-<br>
+<br>
+And sickly vapors are near his lips,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And close to his wire-net lamp,<br>
+Unseen, as an evil spirit comes,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Up stealeth the dread fire-damp!<br>
+<br>
+But the miner works on, though death is by,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And fears not the monster grim;<br>
+For the wiry gauze, round his steady light,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Makes a safety-lamp for him.<br>
+<br>
+Rough and rude, and of little worth,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Seems the ore that the miner brings<br>
+From the hidden places where lie concealed<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Earth's rare and precious things;<br>
+<br>
+But, tried awhile in the glowing fire,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;It is rough and rude no more;<br>
+Art moulds the iron, and forms the gold,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And fashions the silver ore.<br>
+<br>
+And useful, rare, and beautiful things,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;'Neath the hand of skill arise:<br>
+Oh! a thousand thousand human wants<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;The miner's toil supplies!</p>
+
+<a name="135"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0135.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0135.jpg" border="0" alt="VISIT TO FAIRY LAND."></a><br>VISIT TO FAIRY LAND.</p>
+
+<h2>VISIT TO FAIRY LAND.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">So, then, you want to hear some stories about
+the fairies, do you, little girl? Well, I must humor you a little,
+I suppose; though I should not wonder if my fairy stories were
+somewhat different from those you have heard before. But have you
+the least idea that there were ever such beings as the fairies in
+the world? If you have, let me tell you, you are quite mistaken.
+The stories that have been told about these fairy people are none
+of them worthy of belief, though it must be admitted that millions
+have believed them. Many of the men and women who pretended to have
+seen the fairies, and who related the stories in the first place,
+believed all they said, I have no doubt. But they were generally
+ignorant persons, very superstitious, and easily imposed upon.
+There are, it is true, invisible inhabitants in this world. Those
+who believe the Bible, can hardly doubt the presence of angels
+among us. But angels, as they are represented in the Scriptures,
+are a very different class of spirits from those called fairies, if
+we may credit what has been said of this singular race of beings,
+by those who pretend to have seen them in fairy land.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Not a great while ago, the people of England and
+Scotland were very superstitious. It is not two centuries since our
+good forefathers on that island were burning witches by scores. At
+that time, a great many believed in the existence of fairies, or
+elves. I have been at some pains to find out at what time this
+fairy superstition first appeared among the Britons. But it seems
+not very easy to determine. One thing is certain, that the belief
+in some kind of spirits&mdash;either the same with the fairies, under a
+different name, or very nearly related to them&mdash;dates back to a
+very early period in British history&mdash;earlier, probably, than the
+Christian era.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The fairies are always represented as very small
+and very beautiful&mdash;generally, as perfect miniatures of the human
+form. The color of their dress is uniformly pure green. It would
+seem, according to the accounts of these people, some five or six
+hundred years ago, that they were kind, amiable, excellent
+neighbors. Indeed, one of the names they went by was, "the Good
+Neighbors," and another was, "the Men of Peace." Still, they used
+to do some mischief in those days, if we may believe their
+historians, who tell us that the fairies, once in a while, visited
+the abodes of men, and carried away captives into their invisible
+haunts, under ground. The reason for this kidnapping of human
+beings was said to be, that the fairies were obliged occasionally
+to pay a tribute of this kind to their king or queen.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The fairies were not always cunning enough to
+keep their victims, after they had caught them. Sometimes people
+would come back from fairy land, and tell all about what they had
+seen there. You might suppose that a great deal would be learned of
+these strange, invisible creatures, from the men and women who had
+been with them and escaped. Well, so there was. But the worst of it
+was, the stories did not hang together very well; and there were
+about as many different and contradictory accounts of fairydom as
+there were different individuals who pretended to have made a visit
+to that country. However, all seemed to agree that fairy land was a
+very merry country. The people there were great lovers of fun,
+according to the general testimony, and used to dance a great deal
+by moonlight, in the open air. They are engaged in one of their
+dances, you see, in the engraving. Every evening, as soon as the
+moon rose, they assembled at some convenient place, took hold of
+each other's hands, usually in a ring, I think, and then they had a
+right merry time of it, you may depend. It did not seem to make any
+difference, whether the spot selected for the dance was on the land
+or on the sea. Indeed, they could dance pretty well in the air,
+without any thing to stand upon. The assemblies held in the palaces
+of the king and queen of the fairies, were, at times, splendid in
+the extreme. No poet, in his most lofty flights of fancy, ever
+dreamed of such beauty and splendor as were exhibited at the fairy
+court. They rode on milk-white steeds. Their dresses were of
+brilliant green, and were rich beyond conception. When they mingled
+in the dance, or moved in procession among the shady groves, or
+over the delightful meadows, covered with the fairest of flowers,
+music, such as mortal lips cannot utter, floated on the breeze.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">However, these splendors, astonishing as they
+were, all vanished in a moment, whenever the eye of any one gifted
+with the power of spiritual communion was turned upon them. Then
+their treasures of gold and silver became slate-stones, and their
+stately halls were turned into damp caverns. They themselves,
+instead of being the beautiful creatures they were before, became
+ugly as a hedge-fence.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The king of fairy land was called
+<i>Oberon</i>&mdash;the queen, <i>Titania</i>. The king used to wear a
+crown of jewels on his head, and he always carried a horn in his
+hand, which set every body around him to dancing, whenever he blew
+it. Ben Jonson, a poet who flourished a great many years ago,
+speaks very respectfully of fairies and elves, in his poems. In
+describing the haunts of his "Sad Shepherd," he says&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>"There, in the stocks of trees, white fays do
+dwell,<br>
+And span-long elves that dance about a pool."</blockquote>
+
+<p align="justify">Shakspeare, too, in several of his plays, makes
+us quite familiar with the fairy people. Shakspeare, you are aware,
+wrote in the time of Elizabeth, and as late as that period, there
+were thousands in England and Scotland in whose creed the existence
+of such a race of spirits was a very important article. It was not
+long, however, after this, before the superstition about the
+fairies&mdash;which, at the worst, was a very foolish affair&mdash;began to
+decline. But that decline brought a dark night to thousands of
+poor, innocent men and women; for then came the era of witchcraft,
+and persons of every rank, convicted of this imaginary crime, were
+hurried to the scaffold or the stake.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In the beginning of the seventeenth century, Dr.
+Corbett, Bishop of Oxford and Norwich, wrote a very humorous satire
+on the fairy superstition, called "The Fairies' Farewell, a proper
+new ballad to be sung or whistled to the tune of Meadow Brow."
+Perhaps I cannot better take leave of these very curious imaginary
+people, than to employ a couple of stanzas from the bishop's
+playful ballad:</p>
+
+<blockquote>"Witness those rings and roundelays<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of theirs, which yet remain,<br>
+&nbsp;Were footed in Queen Mary's days,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On many a grassy plain;<br>
+&nbsp;But since of late Elizabeth,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And later James came in,<br>
+&nbsp;They never danced on any heath,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As when the time hath been.<br>
+<br>
+"By which we note the fairies<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Were of the old profession;<br>
+&nbsp;Their songs were Ave Marias,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Their dances were processions;<br>
+&nbsp;But now, alas! they all are dead,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or gone beyond the seas,<br>
+&nbsp;Or further for religion fled,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or else they take their ease."</blockquote>
+
+<a name="143"></a>
+<h2>THE HERMIT.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0144.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0144.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamented 'A'"></a> Traveler was once passing through a great
+wilderness, in which he supposed no human being dwelt. But, while
+riding along in its gloomiest part, he was surprised to see a
+hermit, his face covered with a long beard, that hung down upon his
+breast, sitting on a stone at the entrance of what seemed a
+cave.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The hermit arose as the traveler drew up his
+horse, and speaking kindly to him, invited him to accept such
+refreshment as it was in his power to offer. The traveler did not
+refuse, but, dismounting, tied his horse to a tree, and, following
+the pious man, entered the narrow door of a little cave which
+nature had formed in the side of a mountain. All the hermit had to
+set before the traveler, was water from a pure stream that came
+merrily leaping down the hill side, and some wild fruit and
+nuts.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Tell me," said the traveler, after he had
+eaten, "why a man with a sound body, such as you possess, and a
+sound mind, should hide away from his fellow-men, in a dreary wild
+like this?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"For pious meditation and repentance," replied
+the hermit. "All is vanity in the world. Its beauties charm but to
+allure from heaven. And worse than this, it is full of evil. Turn
+where you will, pain, sorrow, and crime meet your eyes. But here,
+in the silence of nature, there is nothing to draw the mind from
+holy thoughts; there is no danger of falling into temptation. By
+pious meditation and prayer, we are purified and made fit for
+heaven."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not so," answered the traveler; "pious
+meditation and prayer are of no avail without good be done to our
+fellow-men. Piety is nothing without charity; and charity consists
+in willing well and doing well to our neighbors. 'And now abideth
+faith, hope, and charity,' says the Apostle, 'but the greatest of
+these is charity,' Hermit, you are not wise thus to retire from the
+midst of the busy world. Your service cannot be acceptable to God.
+Go back again among your fellow-men, and faithfully perform your
+real duties in life. Heal the sick, comfort the mourner, bind up
+the broken heart, and in the various walks of life do good to
+friend and enemy. Without this, how can you hope in the judgment to
+hear the Lord say, 'As much as ye have done it unto the least of
+these, ye have done it unto me?'"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The hermit, at such unexpected words, bowed his
+head, and was silent. The traveler went on, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You have committed a common error, in supposing
+that in holy meditation, as it is called, there was any thing
+particularly pleasing to God. But reason will tell you why the
+widow's mite is more acceptable in heaven than the most pious
+thoughts of idle self-righteousness. Hermit! go back again into the
+world, and there act your part as a man in the great social body.
+Only by this means will you be prepared to live and act in the
+great body of angels in heaven."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The hermit could not reply, but still sat with
+his head bowed to his bosom, and his eyes upon the ground. The
+words of the stranger fell with strokes of reproof upon his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">When the traveler returned that way, he sought
+for the hermit, but found him not at the door of his cave. He
+entered, but the place had been a long time deserted. The erring
+man had gone back into the world, and taken his place among his
+fellows. And he had done right. No man is wise who retires from
+society, and shuts himself up in the hope of becoming better
+through prayer and pious thoughts. Only by doing our duty to our
+fellow-men, in some particular pursuit in life, can we hope to grow
+better and wiser?</p>
+
+<a name="147"></a>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0148.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0148.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"A PICTURE."></a><br>A PICTURE.</p>
+
+<h2>A PICTURE.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">What have we here? That kind-looking old
+gentleman must have something for these children; his hand is in
+his pocket, and they are all gathering around him. I wonder who he
+is, and what he is going to give them?</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"He's their uncle, may be."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Or their grandfather."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Or somebody else that is kind to children."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">No doubt of it in the world. He is some one who
+likes children, you may be sure. And I suppose he's got a pocket
+full of sugar-plums or nuts for his favorites. The little girl who
+has seized his cane, I rather think, will get the largest share;
+but I don't suppose her young companions will be at all displeased
+at this, for no doubt she is a very good girl, and beloved by all.
+Indeed, if we may judge by the faces of the children, not one of
+them will look at what the other receives, to see if he has not
+obtained the largest share.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This is not always so, however. I know some
+little boys and girls, who, when their parents, relatives, or
+friends give them cakes, candies, or playthings, immediately look
+from what they have themselves to what the others have received,
+and, if one thinks his share smaller or inferior, becomes
+dissatisfied, and, from a jealous and envious spirit, sacrifices
+his own pleasure and that of all the rest. Because there is a
+square inch more of cake in his brother's piece, that which he has
+doesn't taste good. If he have one sugar-plum less than the others,
+they become tasteless, and he throws them all, perhaps, upon the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">How bad all this looks, and how very bad it
+really is! The friends of such children are never encouraged to
+make them presents. They rather avoid doing so; for they know that
+their greedy, envious, covetous spirit, will turn the good things
+they would offer them into causes of strife and unhappiness.</p>
+
+<a name="150"></a>
+<h2>THE BOY AND THE ROBIN.</h2>
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p>So now, pretty robin, you've come to my door;<br>
+I wonder you never have ventured before:<br>
+'Tis likely you thought I would do you some harm;<br>
+But pray, sir, what cause have you seen for alarm?</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>You seem to be timid&mdash;I'd like to know why&mdash;<br>
+Did I ever hurt you? What makes you so shy?<br>
+You shrewd little rogue, I've a mind, ere you go,<br>
+To tell you a thing it concerns you to know.</p>
+
+<p>III</p>
+
+<p>You think I have never discovered your nest;<br>
+'Tis hid pretty snugly, it must be confessed.<br>
+Ha! ha! how the boughs are entwined all around!<br>
+No wonder you thought it would never be found.</p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>You're as cunning a robin as ever I knew;<br>
+And yet, ha! ha! ha! I'm as cunning as you!<br>
+I know all about your nice home on the tree&mdash;'Twas<br>
+nonsense to try to conceal it from me.</p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>I know&mdash;for but yesterday I was your guest&mdash;<br>
+How many young robins there are in your nest;<br>
+And pardon me, sir, if I venture to say,<br>
+They've had not a morsel of dinner to-day.</p>
+
+<p>VI.</p>
+
+<p>But you look very sad, pretty robin, I see,<br>
+As you glance o'er the meadow, to yonder green tree;<br>
+I fear I have thoughtlessly given you pain,<br>
+And I will not prattle so lightly again.</p>
+
+<p>VII.</p>
+
+<p>Go home, where your mate and your little ones dwell;<br>
+Though I know where they are, yet I never will tell;<br>
+Nobody shall injure that leaf-covered nest,<br>
+For sacred to me is the place of your rest.</p>
+
+<p>VIII.</p>
+
+<p>Adieu! for you want to be flying away,<br>
+And it would be cruel to ask you to stay;<br>
+But come in the morning, come early, and sing,<br>
+For dearly I love you, sweet warbler of spring.</p>
+
+<a name="152"></a>
+<h2>SOMETHING ABOUT CONSCIENCE:</h2>
+
+<h3>OR MR MASON'S STORY.</h3>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0154.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0154.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'T'"></a> wo little boys, Robert and Samuel, were one
+day assisting the gardener about some flower-beds. They were rather
+young to be of much service to the old man, and gave him some
+trouble, once in a while, by the clumsy way in which they did their
+work. Still, they meant to please the gardener, and he ought not to
+have got out of patience, if they did now and then make a blunder.
+Well, he was usually very patient and kind; but that day, for some
+reason or another, things did not go right with him at all. Pianos
+and violins, though they sometimes make sweet music, get out of
+tune occasionally, and then, no matter what you try to play on
+them, nothing sounds well. It is so with men and women too often;
+and with boys and girls, too, it is to be feared. At any rate, it
+was so with Mr Mason's gardener, at the time I speak of. He was
+peevish and fretful, and said some harsh things to Robert, because
+he accidentally destroyed a fine tulip with his spade. Robert
+cried, and said he did not mean to do it. Then the old man was
+sorry, but, probably feeling too proud to confess it, he was silent
+for a long time. By and by, however, he told Robert that his
+conscience troubled him on account of his speaking so unkindly, and
+he hoped the little boy would forgive him. So you see the gardener
+was a good man, although he was hasty at that time. Robert
+cheerfully forgave him, and things went on a good deal better. The
+boys tried to be more careful, and the gardener tried to be more
+patient.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0155.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE GARDENER REPROVING ROBERT."></a><br>THE GARDENER REPROVING ROBERT.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Robert thought a good deal about the old man's
+mention of conscience, and when he saw his father, he asked him
+what the conscience meant.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Robert's father liked to have his children make
+such inquiries, and did all that he could to encourage them in
+doing so.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There are two ways, Robert," said he, "of
+explaining things. One is by telling what they are, directly, and
+the other is by telling what they do. I find that my children
+generally like the last of these methods better than they do the
+first; and I am not sure but, on the whole, it is quite as good as
+the other. At any rate, I shall try to describe conscience by
+pointing out some of its effects. In other words, I shall tell you
+a story. Some twenty-five years ago&mdash;it may be thirty; how time
+slides away!&mdash;I knew a boy who had one of the kindest of mothers,
+but whose father had died before his recollection. I think&mdash;indeed
+I know&mdash;he loved his mother, though he was sometimes thoughtless,
+and once in a while disobedient. One day, in midsummer, when the
+blackberries were ripe in the woods, and the trout were sporting
+merrily in the brook, Charles&mdash;for that was the name of the
+boy&mdash;came running to his mother, all out of breath, and said that
+Joseph Cone and Charley Corson had come with their baskets and
+fish-lines, and wanted he should go with them. 'Oh, such fine times
+as they are going to have, mother! Mayn't I go? Blackberries are
+ripe now, and there are lots of them over in Mr Simpson's woods.
+And oh! such splendid trout! One of the boys caught a trout last
+Saturday, so big that he couldn't hardly pull it out of the water!
+Oh, I <i>do</i> want to go, mother! I'll bring home a fine string
+of trout&mdash;I know I will. Ha! ha! ha!' And Charley danced up and
+down the room, and clapped his hands, and laughed very loudly at
+the idea, I suppose, of his outwitting the simple little fish."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Robert laughed, too, when his father came to
+this part of the story, and said he thought that was something like
+counting the chickens before they were hatched.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes," continued Mr Mason; "but I am afraid that
+was not the worst of it, by a good deal; for Charles knew well
+enough that his mother wanted him at home that day, and he ought
+not to have urged her so hard. 'My dear,' said that kind, indulgent
+lady, 'I will let you do just as you choose about going. You know I
+want you to help me about the house to-day, and I should be very
+sorry to have you leave me. But I don't wish to govern you by
+force. I want to see you mind because you love me&mdash;not because you
+are obliged to. So I shall not say any more. Do as you please, this
+time.'</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Charles thought a moment or two. He saw plainly
+enough that there were two sides to the question about going
+a-fishing that day. His mother was not very well. He thought of
+that; and he thought that if he went, she would have more work to
+do, and perhaps she would then be quite sick. His conscience was at
+work, you see. 'Well,' he thought, 'I guess I will let the trout
+stay where they are to-day,' But just then he heard one of the boys
+say, 'Halloo, Charley! what do you say? We're tired of waiting.
+Shall we go without you, or will you come along?'</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, what do you think Charley did,
+Robert?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why, he stayed at home, and helped his mother,
+of course."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I'm sorry to say that he changed his mind,
+and started off with the boys. His conscience said <i>no</i>, but
+his will said <i>yes</i>."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then he did very wrong."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"So I think. But the truth must be told. Charley
+took his fishing apparatus, and whistled for his little dog, Caper,
+and away the three boys ran, toward the brook.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"'Let's go to the deep hole under the elm tree.
+That's where Bill Havens caught the big trout, the other day,' said
+one.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Bill Havens, as they called him, was one of the
+most noted fishermen in the place. I knew him well. He was always
+sure to succeed, wherever and whenever he went out with his hook
+and line. I have been to this deep hole with Bill Havens, more than
+once, and have seen him catch half a dozen large pickerel, when I
+could not, by any of my skill, persuade a single fish to come out
+of the brook.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0160.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0160.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"BILL HAVENS AT THE DEEP HOLE."></a><br>BILL HAVENS AT THE DEEP HOLE.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"'But we shall have to cross the brook,' said
+Charley, 'and how in the world are we going to do that? The
+foot-bridge was swept away by the freshet, you know.'</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"'Oh, I'll see about that. I know where there's
+an old tree that lies clear across the stream. We can get over on
+that, just as well as we could over the foot-bridge,'</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"And so they started for the old tree, which was
+to serve them for a bridge. It had been blown down by the wind, and
+had fallen across the stream, so that the large end rested on the
+side where the boys were, while the upper limbs reached the
+opposite bank. When the boys got to the tree, they saw that it was
+not quite so convenient a bridge as they could wish; and Charley
+Mason, who was not by any means a headstrong lad, and not used to
+such adventures, said he would rather not attempt to cross it. But
+the other two boys laughed at him, and told him not to be a coward;
+and he finally determined he would venture, if the others
+succeeded. They did succeed, and Charley, not without some
+trembling&mdash;which, of course, made his danger the greater&mdash;prepared
+to follow. 'Take care, Charley! take care! Rather dangerous
+business, isn't it? Cling closely to the tree. There&mdash;so. Don't
+look down into the water, or you'll be dizzy. That's the way. Come
+on, now. Don't hang on to that dry limb! It will break and let you
+fall into the water, if you do. How the poor fellow trembles!
+<i>Plash</i>! There he goes, I declare!'</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0162.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0162.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"CHARLES CROSSING THE BROOK."></a><br>CHARLES CROSSING THE BROOK.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Sure enough, Charles had slipped and fallen
+into the stream! and his companions, so frightened that they hardly
+knew what they did, took to their heels, and ran as fast as they
+could toward home!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Poor Charley! he was drowned, then?" said
+Robert.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, he managed to get out of the water; but he
+had a hard time of it, though. He could not swim very well, at the
+best; and with all his clothes on, it was as much as he could do to
+swim at all. If the river had been a little wider, he never could
+have got out alone. As it was, however, by the help of some rocks
+there were in the brook, he reached the shore, pretty thoroughly
+exhausted, and not a little frightened. His zeal for trout-fishing
+was by this time a good deal cooled off, as you may suppose. The
+nearest he came to catching any of those cunning little fellows
+that day, was when he tumbled into the brook; and then he had
+something else to think of.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There he was, alone, wet as a drowned rat, and
+shivering, partly from cold and partly from fright, as if he had
+the ague. Poor fellow! His conscience began to be heard again, now
+he had time to think. He hardly knew what to do; he was ashamed to
+go home to his mother; and there he stood, for a good while,
+leaning his head on the fence near the water, the tears all the
+time chasing each other down his cheeks."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't wonder he cried," said Robert; "but I
+can't help laughing to think what a sorry figure he must have made
+there, on the bank! And he was going to bring home such a nice
+string of fish, too! I wonder if his mother did not laugh when she
+saw him coming. Did he stay there, father, shivering and crying,
+till some body came after him?"</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0164.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0164.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"CHARLES, AFTER THE DUCKING."></a><br>CHARLES, AFTER THE DUCKING.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, he started for home before any of the
+neighbors reached the spot where he fell into the river; and, as
+they missed him on the way, they supposed he was drowned, and
+searched for his body half an hour or more, till they learned he
+was safe at home."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, what did his mother say to him,
+father?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"She did not say much, poor woman. She was not
+well, as I said before, when Charles left her; and as her servant
+had gone away for a week, and she had no one but him to assist her
+in her work, she became very much fatigued; and when she heard that
+Charles had fallen into the river, she fainted immediately. She had
+hardly recovered when the boy reached the house."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think Charles was a very bad boy."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not so much worse than many others, perhaps, as
+you may suppose. You judge of the boy's conduct by the consequences
+of it. If he had been successful in his trout-fishing, and no
+accident had happened to his mother, you would not have thought
+half as much of his guilt in acting contrary to his mother's
+wishes."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Certainly not."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"But the boy would have been just as bad, for
+all that."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I can't see how, father."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why, the boy, when he was thinking what he
+would do about going on that fishing excursion, could not have
+foreseen all that would happen if he went. Do you think he
+could?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, sir, not all, I suppose. But I am sure he
+was a very bad boy, whether he knew what would happen or not."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, no doubt. But I want you to see exactly
+where his guilt lay. It was simply in his not yielding to his
+mother's wish, when she so kindly left him at liberty to do as he
+chose; especially as he knew she was ill, and needed his
+assistance."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Charley deserved a good whipping."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, he <i>was</i> punished severely."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Did his mother punish him?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, for weeks she was too ill for that; and if
+she had been well, probably she would not have punished him."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"How did he get punished?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"By his own conscience. He felt that he had done
+wrong, and that made him very unhappy. He saw, then, that he had
+been very unkind to his mother, and that his unkindness cost her
+pain and sorrow. He would rather have given all his
+playthings&mdash;every one of his toys&mdash;than to feel as he did then.
+Indeed, I think he would prefer the severest punishment from his
+mother, to the wound which his conscience inflicted. Do you
+understand now, my son, what is meant by conscience?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think I do. When we are sorry for any thing
+we have done, it is the conscience that makes us feel so."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not always. Charles was no doubt very sorry he
+had tried to cross the river on the tree, because he fell into the
+water, and came near being drowned. But the conscience had nothing
+to do with this sorrow. When we see that we have carelessly or
+wilfully injured some one&mdash;hurt his feelings, perhaps&mdash;or when we
+reflect that we have disobeyed God, and feel grieved and sorry on
+this account, then the conscience is the cause of our pain. So you
+see that it is one of the numerous proofs of the wisdom and the
+goodness of God, that he has given mankind a conscience. Take care,
+my son, that you listen to its voice."</p>
+
+<a name="166"></a>
+<h2>OLD NED.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0168.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0168.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'N'"></a> ot many years ago, Farmer Jones had an old
+horse named "Ned," who appeared to have almost as much sense as
+some people. Ned was a favorite with his master, who petted him as
+if he were a child instead of a dumb animal. The horse seemed to
+understand every word that the farmer said to him, and would obey
+him quite as readily and with as much intelligence as Rover, the
+house dog. If his master came into the field where he was grazing,
+Ned would come galloping up to meet him, and then caper round as
+playfully, though not, it must be owned, as gracefully, as a
+kitten.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Farmer Jones, on these occasions, generally had
+an ear or two of corn in his pocket; and Ned, whose nose had been
+many a time in that capacious receptacle of odds and ends, after
+sweeping around his master two or three times, would stop short and
+come sideling up, half coquetishly, yet with a knowing twinkle in
+his eye, and commence a search for the little tidbit that he had
+good reason for knowing lay snugly stored away in the pocket.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0169.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0169.jpg" border="0" alt="OLD NED."></a><br>OLD NED.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">If any one besides his master went into the
+field and tried to catch Ned, he was sure to have a troublesome
+time of it; and if he succeeded in his object before circling the
+field a dozen times in pursuit of the horse, he might think himself
+lucky. But a word or a motion of the hand from Farmer Jones was
+all-sufficient. Ned would become, instantly, as docile as a child,
+trot up to his side, and stand perfectly still to receive the
+saddle and bridle.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">When Farmer Jones was on the back of Ned, or
+sitting behind him in the old chaise, no horse could be more even
+in his gait, or more orderly in all his movements. But it wasn't
+safe for any one else to try the experiment of riding or driving
+him. If he escaped without a broken neck, he might think himself
+exceedingly fortunate; for the moment any one but his master
+attempted to govern his actions in any way, he became possessed
+with a spirit that was sometimes more than mischievous. He would
+kick up, bite, wheel suddenly around, rear up on his hind feet, and
+do almost every thing except go ahead in an orderly way, as a
+respectable horse ought to have done.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Ned was too great a favorite with his master for
+the latter to think of trying very hard to correct him of these bad
+practices. He would talk to him, sometimes, about the folly of an
+old horse like him prancing about, and cutting up as many antics as
+a young colt; but his words, it was clear, went into one of Ned's
+ears and out of the other, as people say, for Ned did not in the
+least mend his manners, although he would nod his head in a knowing
+and obedient way, while his master was talking to him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Ned spent at least two thirds of his time, from
+the period when the grass sprung up, tender and green, until it
+became pale and crisp with frost, in a three-acre field belonging
+to his master, where he ate, walked about, rolled himself on the
+soft sward, or slept away the hours, as happy as a horse could be.
+Across one corner of this field a little boy and his sister used
+every day to go to school. The little boy was a namesake of the
+horse; but he was usually called Neddy. One day Neddy felt rather
+mischievous, as little boys will feel sometimes. He had a long
+willow switch in his hand, and was cutting away at every thing that
+came within his reach. He frightened a brood of chickens, and
+laughed merrily to see them scamper in every direction; he made an
+old hog grunt, and a little pig squeal, and was even so thoughtless
+as to strike with his slender switch a little lamb, that lay close
+beside its mother on the soft grass.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Don't, don't, Neddy," Jane, his sister, would
+say.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">But the little fellow gave no heed to her words.
+At last, in crossing the field, they came to where the old horse
+lay under the shade of a great walnut tree. The temptation to let
+him have a taste of the switch was too strong for Neddy to resist;
+so he passed up close to the horse, and gave him a smart cut across
+the shoulders.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Now that was an indignity to which the old
+fellow was not prepared to submit. Why, it was at least ten years
+since the stroke of a whip had been felt upon his glossy skin. Whip
+and spur were of the times long since gone by. Springing up as
+quickly as if he were only a colt instead of a grave old horse, Ned
+elevated his mane, and swept angrily around the now frightened lad,
+neighing fiercely, and striking out into the air with his heels at
+a furious rate. Jane and Neddy ran, but the horse kept up, and by
+his acts threatening every moment to kill them. But, angry as the
+old fellow was, he did not really intend to harm the children, who
+at length reached the fence toward which they were flying. Jane got
+safely over, but just as Neddy was creeping through the bars, the
+horse caught hold of his loose coat, with his teeth, and pulled him
+back into the field, where he turned him over and over on the grass
+with his nose for half a dozen times, but without harming him in
+the least, and then let him go, and went trotting back to the cool,
+shady place under the old walnut tree, from which the switch of the
+thoughtless boy had aroused him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Neddy, you may be sure, was dreadfully
+frightened, and went crying home. On the next day, when they came
+to the field in which Ned lived at his ease and enjoyed himself,
+the old horse was grazing in a far-off corner, and the children
+thought they might safely venture to cross over. But they had only
+gained half the distance, when Ned espied them, and, with a loud
+neigh, gave chase at full gallop. The children ran, in great alarm,
+for the fence, and got through, safely, before the horse came
+up.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">After this, whenever they ventured to cross the
+field, Ned would interfere. Once he got Neddy's hat in his mouth,
+and ran off with it. But he didn't harm it any, and after keeping
+the children waiting at the fence for about half an hour, came and
+threw it over; after which he kicked up both his heels in a defiant
+manner, and giving a "horse laugh," scampered away as if a
+locomotive were after him.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">At last Neddy's father complained to Farmer
+Jones of the way in which his old horse was annoying the children,
+who had to pass through the field, as they went to school, or else
+be compelled to go a long distance out of their way. The farmer
+inquired the cause of Ned's strange conduct, and learned that the
+little boy cut him across the shoulders with a willow switch.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Ho! ho!" said he, "that's the trouble, is it?
+Ned won't bear a stroke from any one. But I will make up the matter
+between him and the children. So let them stop here on their way
+from school this evening."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The children stopped accordingly. Ned was
+standing in the barn-yard, the very picture of demure innocence.
+But when he saw little Neddy and his sister, he pricked up his
+ears, shook his head, and neighed.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come, come, old boy!" said the farmer, "we've
+had enough of that. You must learn to forgive and forget. The
+little fellow was only playing with you."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Ned appeared to understand his master, for he
+looked a little ashamed of himself, and let his pointed ears fall
+back again to their old places.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Now, my little fellows," said Farmer Jones,
+"take up a handful of that sweet new hay, and call him to the
+bars."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I'm afraid," returned Neddy. "He'll bite
+me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not he. Why the old horse wouldn't harm a hair
+of your head. He was only trying to frighten you as a punishment
+for the stroke you gave him. Come. Now's your time to make
+friends."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Neddy, thus encouraged, gathered a handful of
+the sweet new hay that was scattered around, and going up to the
+fence, held it out and called to the horse&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Here! Ned, Ned, Ned!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The horse shook his head, and stood still.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Come along, you old vagabond!" said Farmer
+Jones, in a voice of reproof. "Don't you see the lad's sorry for
+the cut he gave you? Now walk up to the bars, and forgive the
+little fellow, as a sensible horse ought to do."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Ned no longer hesitated, but went up to the
+bars, where Neddy, half trembling, awaited him, and took the sweet
+morsel of hay from the child's hand. Jane, encouraged by this
+evidence of docility, put her hand on the animal's neck, and
+stroked his long head gently with her hand, while Neddy gathered
+handful after handful of hay, and stood close by the mouth of the
+old horse, as he ate it with the air of one who enjoyed
+himself.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">After that, the children could cross the field
+again as freely as before, and if Ned noticed them at all, it was
+in a manner so good natured as not to cause them the slightest
+uneasiness.</p>
+
+<a name="175"></a>
+<h2>THE FREED BUTTERFLY.</h2>
+
+<p>Yes, go, little butterfly,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Fan the warm air<br>
+With your soft silken pinions,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;So brilliant and fair;<br>
+A poor, fluttering prisoner<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;No longer you'll be;<br>
+There! Out of the window!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;You are free&mdash;you are free!</p>
+
+<p>Go, rest on the bosom<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Of some favorite flower;<br>
+Go, sport in the sunlight<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Your brief little hour;<br>
+For your day, at the longest,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Is scarcely a span:<br>
+Then go and enjoy it;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Be gay while you can.</p>
+
+<p>As for me, I have something<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;More useful to do:<br>
+I must work, I must learn&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Though I play sometimes, too.<br>
+All your days with the blossoms,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Bright thing, <i>you</i> may spend;<br>
+They will close with the summer,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Mine</i> never shall end.</p>
+
+<a name="177"></a>
+<h2>JULIA AND HER BIRDS.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0179.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0179.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'L'"></a> ittle Julia Cornish, a young friend of mine,
+is very fond of birds. It is no strange thing, I am aware, for
+children to love birds. Indeed, I do not see how any body can help
+loving the dear little things, especially those that fill the air
+with their music. But Julia was unusually fond of them, and her
+fondness showed itself in a great many ways. She did not shut them
+up in cages. But she was so kind to those that had their liberty,
+that many of them became quite as tame as if they had always lived
+in a cage.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I must tell you about a robin that used to be a
+pet of hers. You know the robin, do you not, reader? To my mind he
+is one of the dearest of all our native songsters. His notes are
+among the first we hear in the spring. And he is a very social and
+confiding creature. How often he selects a place for his nest on
+some tree near the house! and when it is built, while his partner
+is busy with her domestic duties, he will sing for hours together
+his song of love and tenderness.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Julia resided in the country; and every year the
+robins built their nests on the trees in her father's orchard, near
+the house. She fancied that the robins came from the South to her
+door, year after year, and brought their children with them. She
+was sure she could distinguish the voices of her old friends, and
+she used to sit under the shade of the trees where they had their
+nests, and talk to them kindly, and leave something good for them
+to eat.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One year there were a pair of robins who made
+their nest on a tree, the boughs of which hung over the house; and
+Julia could sit in her window and see all that the little family
+were doing. She was delighted with such a token of confidence, and
+she and the robins soon became very intimate. The old ones
+frequently flew down from their nest, and alighted near the door,
+when Julia would give them as much food as they wanted, and let
+them carry some home to their children.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">By and by, the young robins were old enough to
+leave their nests. That was a great day with both parents and
+children, and all seemed about as merry as they could be when the
+half-fledged little birds took their first lessons in flying,
+though Julia laughed a good deal to see their manoeuvres, and said
+their motions were awkward enough. However, they learned to fly
+after a while, as well as their parents, though before they left
+for the season, some cruel boy threw a stone at one of them and
+broke his wing. Poor fellow! he suffered a great deal of pain, and
+his parents and brothers and sisters were very sad about it. They
+seemed for a while hardly to know what to do. Probably there were
+no surgeons among them, who understood how to manage broken limbs.
+And they had a long talk together&mdash;so Julia said&mdash;and finally hit
+upon this plan. Willy&mdash;that was the name my friend gave to the lame
+bird&mdash;was to go into the house, and see if something could not be
+done for him there.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Accordingly, one bright morning in June, almost
+as soon as breakfast was over, the little invalid, attended by the
+rest of the family, came to the door, where Julia was waiting to
+receive them&mdash;for she fed them regularly every day&mdash;and then, after
+they had eaten what they wanted, instead of flying away, as they
+were accustomed to do, little Willy hopped into the kitchen, while
+the rest remained near the door. Julia thought that was queer
+enough, and she ran and told her mother. "I wonder if I can coax
+the little fellow to stay with me until his wing gets well," she
+said. "I wish I could. Oh, I should dearly love to take care of
+him, and I am sure we can make him well soon."</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0182.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0182.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"JULIA'S PET ROBIN."></a><br>JULIA'S PET ROBIN.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Little Willy did not say&mdash;at least he did not
+say in our language&mdash;that he should be happy to place himself
+awhile under his friend Julia's care. But he seemed very content,
+and soon made himself quite at home. Though he had perfect liberty
+to go just where he pleased, and would often venture out of the
+house, yet he evidently considered himself an inmate of Mr
+Cornish's family. Under the care especially of Miss Julia, he
+became so tame that she could take him in her lap and stroke his
+feathers. Willy was a great favorite in the family, after he had
+been there a day or two. No one did any thing for his wing. They
+did not understand setting birds' wings, when they were broken.
+Still, Willy got better in a very short time, without the
+assistance of a surgeon. A great many sick people, you know, need
+the care of a nurse more than that of a doctor. That was the case
+with Willy, it would seem. In less than three weeks his wing was
+entirely well, and he was able to take care of himself. So he
+warbled his adieu to the family under whose roof he had been so
+kindly treated, and flew away with the other robins who had been
+waiting for him.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0184.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0184.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"JULIA FEEDING THE BIRDS."></a><br>JULIA FEEDING THE BIRDS.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Julia is very kind, too, to the snow-birds in
+the winter. Many a time, when the snow has been deep, and these
+hungry birds have come to her father's door, I have seen her
+feeding them. One winter, I recollect, she had a flock of them that
+she could call to her, when she wanted to feed them, just as she
+could the chickens. The snow-bird is an interesting little creature;
+and though he has not a very sweet voice for singing, he was always
+a favorite with Julia, and I am not sure but I love the fellow as
+well as she does. Winter to me would be a great deal more gloomy,
+were it not for the Winter King, as Miss Gould calls this little
+bird.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Did you know reader, that the snow-bird is a
+very affectionate creature? It seems that it is so. Some years ago
+one of them flew into a house, where, finding itself quite welcome,
+it remained over night. By accident, however, it was killed in the
+morning, and one of the servants threw it into the yard. In the
+course of the day, one of the family witnessed a most affecting
+scene in connection with the dead body. Its mate was standing
+beside it, mourning its loss. It placed its beak below the head of
+its companion, raised it up, and again warbled its song of
+mourning. By and by it flew away, and returned with a grain or two
+of wheat, which it dropped before its dead partner. Then it
+fluttered its wings, and endeavored to call the attention of the
+dead bird to the food. Again it flew away, again it returned, and
+used the same efforts as before. At last, it took up a kernel of
+the wheat, and dropped it into the beak of the dead bird. This was
+repeated several times. Then the poor bereaved one sang in the same
+plaintive strain as before. But the scene was too affecting for the
+lady who witnessed it. She could bear the sight no longer, and
+turned away. I have loved the snow-bird more than ever since this
+story was told me, and so has my friend Julia.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Now I think of it, I have in one of the
+storerooms of my memory, a song about the snow-bird. It is rather
+simple and childish&mdash;possibly too much so for boys and girls of
+your age. However, as we are somewhat musical just now, after
+talking so much about birds, and are greatly in want of a song, I
+will sing this about Emily and the Snow-Bird, and you may join in
+the chorus, if you like.</p>
+
+<a name="185"></a>
+<h2>SONG OF THE SNOW-BIRD.</h2>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0187.jpg"><img src="images/thumb/0187.jpg" border="0"
+alt="SONG OF THE SNOW-BIRD"></a></p>
+
+<p>I.</p>
+
+<p>The ground was all cover'd with snow one day,<br>
+And two little sisters were busy at play,<br>
+When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree,<br>
+And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de,<br>
+Chick-a-de-de, Chick-a-de-de,<br>
+And mer-ri-ly sing-ing his chick-a-de-de.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0188.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0188.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE SISTERS AND THE SNOW-BIRD."></a><br>THE SISTERS AND THE SNOW-BIRD.</p>
+
+<p>II.</p>
+
+<p>He had not been singing that tune very long,<br>
+Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song.&mdash;<br>
+"O sister! look out of the window," said she;<br>
+"Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>III.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,<br>
+And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet;<br>
+I pity him so! how cold he must be!<br>
+And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>IV.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were a barefooted snow-bird, I know<br>
+I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.&mdash;<br>
+I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;<br>
+He's all the time singing that chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>V.</p>
+
+<p>"O mother! do get him some stockings and shoes,<br>
+And a nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose;<br>
+I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see<br>
+How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de."<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>VI.</p>
+
+<p>The bird had flown down for some pieces of bread,<br>
+And heard every word little Emily said;<br>
+"How queer I would look hi that dress!" thought he;<br>
+And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>VII.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm grateful," he said, "for the wish you express,<br>
+But I've no occasion for such a fine dress;<br>
+I had rather remain with my limbs all free,<br>
+Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>VIII.</p>
+
+<p>"There is ONE, my dear child, tho' I cannot tell who,<br>
+Has clothed me already, and warm enough too&mdash;<br>
+Good morning! O, who are so happy as we?"&mdash;<br>
+And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Chick-a-de-de,
+&amp;c.</p>
+
+<a name="189"></a>
+<h2>EDGAR AND WILLIAM;</h2>
+
+<h3>OR HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.</h3>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0191.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0191.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"ornamental 'H'"></a> ere! lend me your knife, Bill; I've left mine
+in the house," said Edgar Harris to his younger brother. He spoke
+in a rude voice, and his manner was imperative.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, I won't! Go and get your own knife,"
+replied William, in a tone quite as ungracious as that in which the
+request, or rather command, had been made.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't wish to go into the house. Give me your
+knife, I say. I only want it for a minute."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never lend my knife, nor give it, either,"
+returned William. "Get your own."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"You are the most disobliging fellow I ever
+saw," retorted Edgar, angrily, rising up and going into the house
+to get his own knife. "Don't ever ask me for a favor, for I'll
+never grant it."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This very unbrotherly conversation took place
+just beneath the window near which Mr Harris, the father of the
+lads, was seated. He overheard it all, and was grieved, as may be
+supposed, that his sons should treat each other so unkindly. But he
+said nothing to them then, nor did he let them know that he heard
+the language that had passed between them.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">In a little while Edgar returned, and as he sat
+down in the place where he had been seated before, he said,</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No thanks to you for your old knife! Keep it to
+yourself, in welcome. I wouldn't use it now, if you were to give it
+to me."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I'm glad you are so independent," retorted
+William. "I hope you will always be so."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">And the boys fretted each other for some
+time.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0193.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0193.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE TWO BROTHERS AT PLAY."></a><br>THE TWO BROTHERS AT PLAY.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">On the next day, Edgar was building a house with
+sticks, and William was rolling a hoop. By accident the hoop was
+turned from its right course, and broke down a part of Edgar's
+house. William was just going to say how sorry he was for the
+accident, and to offer to repair the damage that was done, when his
+brother, with his face red with passion, cried out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Just see what you have done! If you don't clear
+out with your hoop, I'll call father. You did it on purpose."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Do go and call him! I'll go with you," said
+William, in a sneering, tantalizing tone. "Come, come along
+now."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">For a little while the boys stood and growled at
+each other like two ill-natured dogs, and then Edgar commenced
+repairing his house, and William went to rolling his hoop again.
+The latter was strongly tempted to repeat, in earnest, what he had
+done at first by accident, by way of retaliation upon his brother
+for his spiteful manner toward him; but, being naturally of a good
+disposition, and forgiving in his temper, he soon forgot his bad
+feelings, and enjoyed his play as much as he had done before.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">This little circumstance Mr Harris had also
+observed.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">A day or two afterward, Edgar came to his father
+with a complaint against his brother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never saw such a boy," he said. "He won't do
+the least thing to oblige me. If I ask him to lend me his knife, or
+ball, or any thing he has, he snaps me up short with a
+refusal."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Perhaps you don't ask him right," suggested the
+father. "Perhaps you don't speak kindly to him. I hardly think that
+William is ill-disposed and disobliging naturally. There must be
+some fault on your part, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't know how I can be in fault, father,"
+said Edgar.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"William refused to let you have his knife, the
+other day, although he was not using it himself, did he not?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Do you remember how you asked him for it?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"No, sir, not now, particularly."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, as I happened to overhear you, I can
+repeat your words, though I hardly think I can get your very tone
+and manner. Your words were, 'Here, lend me your knife, Bill!' and
+your voice and manner were exceedingly offensive. I did not at all
+wonder that William refused your request. If you had spoken to him
+in a kind manner, I am sure he would have handed you his knife,
+instantly. But no one likes to be ordered, in a domineering way, to
+do any thing at all. I know you would resent it in William, as
+quickly as he resents it in you. Correct your own fault, my son,
+and in a little while you will have no complaint to make of
+William."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Edgar felt rebuked. What his father said he saw
+to be true.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Whenever you want William to do any thing for
+you," continued the father, "use kind words instead of harsh ones,
+and you will find him as obliging as you could wish. I have
+observed you both a good deal, and I notice that you rarely ever
+speak to William in a proper manner, but are rude and overbearing.
+Correct this evil in yourself, and all will be right with him. Kind
+words are far more powerful than harsh words, and their effect a
+hundred-fold greater."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">On the next day, as Edgar was at work in the
+garden, and William standing at the gate, looking on, Edgar wanted
+a rake that was in the summer-house. He was just going to say, "Go
+and get me that rake, Bill!" but he checked himself, and made his
+request in a different form, and in a better tone than those words
+would have been uttered in.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Won't you get me the small rake that lies in
+the summer-house, William?" he said. The words and tone involved a
+request, not a command, and William instantly replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Certainly;" and bounded away to get the rake
+for his brother.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Thank you," said Edgar, as he received the
+rake.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Don't you want the watering-pot?" asked
+William.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, I do; and you may bring it full of water,
+if you please," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Off William went for the watering-pot, and soon
+returned with it full of water. As he stood near one of Edgar's
+flower-beds, he forgot himself, and stepped back with his foot upon
+a bed of pansies.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There! just look at you!" exclaimed Edgar,
+thrown off his guard.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">William, who had felt drawn toward his brother
+on account of his kind manner, was hurt at this sudden change in
+his words and tone. He was tempted to retort harshly, and even to
+set his foot more roughly upon the pansies. But he checked himself,
+and, turning away, walked slowly from the garden.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Edgar, who had repented of his rude words and
+unkind manner the moment he had time to think, was very sorry that
+he had been thrown off his guard, and resolved to be more careful
+in the future. And he was more careful. The next time he spoke to
+his brother, it was in a kind and gentle manner, and he saw its
+effect. Since then, he has been watchful over himself, and now he
+finds that William is one of the most obliging boys any where to be
+found.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"So much for kind words, my son," said his
+father, on noticing the great change that had taken place. "Never
+forget, throughout your whole life, that kind words are far more
+potent than harsh ones. I have found them so, and you have already
+proved the truth of what I say."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">And so will every one who tries them. Make the
+experiment, young friends, and you will find it to succeed in every
+case.</p>
+
+<a name="197"></a>
+<h2>PASSING FOR MORE THAN ONE IS WORTH.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0199.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0199.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'O'"></a> he other day I had occasion to pay a man half
+a dollar, and gave him a dollar bank note, for which he gave me in
+exchange two silver pieces that I supposed to be worth twenty-five
+cents each. One of the pieces, however, I found afterward would
+only go for sixteen or seventeen cents. It was not a quarter of a
+dollar, though it looked very much like one. It had passed for some
+eight or nine cents more than it was worth. Well, that was an
+affair of very little consequence, you say. True enough, but I am
+going to take hold of something else with this handle, that may be
+of more consequence.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">There are a great many folks in the world who,
+like this pistareen, pass themselves off, or try to pass themselves
+off, for more than their real value. It is bad business, though;
+and they always feel <i>cheap</i> when they get found out, as they
+are sure to be in the end.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Did you ever see a dandy under a full press of
+canvas, as the sailors say, showing himself off on one of the
+principal streets of a city&mdash;on Broadway, for instance, in New
+York? He was trying to pass himself off for more than his worth.
+And no doubt he succeeded, too, in some instances. By the way, do
+you know what definition Webster gives of a dandy in his large
+dictionary? It is worth remembering. Suppose we turn to it. "A
+dandy," says he, "is one who dresses himself like a doll, and
+carries his character on his back." It is a most capital
+definition; but the silly fellow will pass for something else where
+he is not known. He will make a great swell, and some people will
+believe he is a gentleman. Indeed, it would not be strange if he
+should pass himself off, one of these days, upon some young lady
+who is quite ignorant of this kind of currency, as an Italian
+count, or, perhaps, the marquis of this or the duke of that. There
+is no telling. But if she takes him for a cent more than Webster
+rates him at, she gets cheated, depend upon it. He is not worth the
+clothes on his back. He has to cross the street sometimes, to get
+rid of being dunned by his tailor; and he has been two or three
+hours trying to find a barber who will trust him. He's nothing but
+a pistareen, and hardly that.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Some people pass themselves off for being very
+learned, when they are as ignorant as a horse-block. But, oh! such
+mistakes as they make sometimes; it is enough to set one into a fit
+of laughter, only to think of some of them. I know a miss, who
+tries to pass herself off for a great reader, when the truth is,
+she has only dipped up a spoon-full, here and there, from a score
+or two of authors, and has not the slightest idea about the merits
+of any of them. Some one came up with her nicely the other night,
+at a party. He had suspicions, I suppose, that she was trying to
+pass for too much; at all events, he asked her a great many
+roundabout questions, which she was obliged to answer, and in doing
+so she let out the secret. Every body saw what sort of a coin she
+was, at once.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">What fools some folks make of themselves, by
+attempting to pass for more than they are worth, in the matter of
+dollars and cents. It is said, that in the city of New York there
+are a good many poor fellows that can scarcely get enough money to
+appear in a respectable suit of clothes, who will buy a dinner in
+some cheap eating-house for sixpence, and then pick their teeth on
+the door-steps of the Astor House, to make people think they have
+dined there. And that is not any worse than some would-be genteel
+people manage when the warm season comes on, every year. They close
+their front window blinds, and steal into and out of their houses
+like thieves, or dogs that have just had a flogging, so that their
+neighbors will think they have gone to Saratoga, or Rockaway, or
+some other fashionable summer retreat. They take a good deal of
+pains to pass for so much more than they are worth&mdash;do they not,
+little friend? They only go for pistareens, though, where they are
+known.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">One sometimes comes across a public speaker&mdash;a
+lawyer&mdash;possibly a preacher&mdash;who displays his eloquence by using
+all sorts of long and out-of-the-way words. A man may be listening
+ever so quietly and innocently, and the first thing he knows, down
+comes a word about his ears half as long as his arm almost, and
+half as heavy as a mallet. That is what the orator calls a
+<i>knock-down</i> argument; and when he wishes to be particularly
+convincing and eloquent, he throws at you such brick-bats and bars
+of iron as
+incomprehensibility&mdash;epexegetically&mdash;anthropopathically&mdash;so fast
+that you have scarcely a chance to dodge one before another comes
+whizzing along. Of course, you are confounded with the man's
+assault and battery, and if you are a thinking person, perhaps fall
+to musing how such monstrous words can come out of a man's throat
+whole, without choking him, or themselves splitting to pieces. When
+I hear a public speaker going on in that way, I generally think
+that the poor fellow is making up in big words what he lacks in
+brains, and if I could whisper a small word or two in his ear, I
+should be apt to say, "That will never do, sir. You can't pass
+yourself off for a great scholar with this clap-trap. You are
+nothing but a pistareen, and rather smooth at that. You are,
+indeed. Those big words that we have to bend up and twist around to
+get into our coat-pockets, will not go for sense. So pray be quiet,
+and not attempt to pass for any more than you are honestly worth,
+which is little enough, to be sure."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I have known boys and girls at school attempt to
+pass for more than their real value. Whenever I hear a boy asking
+somebody to write a composition for him, or to help him write one,
+which he intends to palm off as his own, or see him jog the boy
+that sits next him in the school-room, to get some help in reciting
+a bad lesson, I think of the pistareen, and want very much to
+caution the little fellow not to pass for more than he is worth.
+And it makes very little difference that I know of, whether it is a
+boy or a girl. It seems just as bad in one case as it does in the
+other.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">It happens once in a while that a young lady
+puts on a great many charms that are not natural to her, and uses
+every kind of deception, just for the sake of being admired, or,
+perhaps, to get a good husband. It is bad business, though.
+Sensible men are not often caught with such a trap; and if they
+are, when they find out how the matter stands&mdash;and they will find
+it out sooner or later&mdash;they despise the trick as one of the
+meanest that was ever invented. I have a notion, too, that this
+kind of deception is pretty common among young gentlemen, as well
+as young ladies. But it is a miserable business, whoever may work
+at it. It never turns out well in the end, if it does after a
+fashion at first. It is a great deal better to be natural, and to
+act like one's self. This passing for more than one is worth, to
+buy a husband or a wife, as the case may be, don't pay, as the
+merchant says.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Some people work like a horse in a bark-mill, to
+make every body believe they are most excellent Christians, very
+nearly as pious as the angel Gabriel, when the truth is, their
+religion is all sham, and they will lie and cheat as bad as any
+body, if they think they will not be found out. Whenever I see one
+of this class, trying with all his might to pass for a saint, with
+his face as long as a yard-stick, or, perhaps, all lighted up with
+kindly smiles, I can't help thinking of the pistareen. It will come
+into my mind in spite of all I can do. Why, all the time the man is
+putting on these airs, he is plotting some scheme for selfish gain,
+or some mischief, just as likely as not. "He does not rise toward
+heaven like the lark, to make music, but like the hawk, to dart
+down upon his prey. If he goes up the Mount of Olives to kneel in
+prayer, he is about to build an oil-mill up there. If he weeps by
+the brook Kedron, he is making ready to fish for eels, or else to
+drown somebody in the stream." Poor man! he has a hard time of it,
+trying to keep up appearances. But it will be harder still, by and
+by, if he does not look out. He cannot carry his mask with him into
+the other world. There no one will pass for any more than he is
+worth.</p>
+
+<a name="205"></a>
+<h2>LAMENT OF THE INVALID.</h2>
+
+<p>The earth is arrayed in the robes of spring,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And by the soft zephyr the green leaves are
+stirred;<br>
+With the wood-bird's note the pine forests ring,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And the voice of the robin's glad music is heard.</p>
+
+<p>I see my companions abroad on the plain,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;But the beauties of spring, they are not for me.<br>
+Oh! when shall I leave my dull prison again?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;I am pining to roam 'mid the wild flowers free.</p>
+
+<p>O green is the turf in the wildwood now,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And my spirit flies from the dwellings of men,<br>
+Where the wind blows soft through the cedar's bough,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;And the voice of the streamlet is heard from the
+glen.</p>
+
+<p>This dim-lighted chamber I long to resign<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;For my cherish'd retreat, 'neath the wide-spreading
+tree.<br>
+Through the long, long hours of day I pine<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;For the breath of the flowers and the hum of the
+bee.</p>
+
+<p>No, not for me are the beauties of spring,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Nor the zephyr that sighs in the cedar's bough;<br>
+The birds of the forest all sweetly may sing,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;But not for my ear is their music now.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, merciful Father! I will not complain;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;My hopes are all centred on heaven and Thee;<br>
+I know that thy grace will my spirit sustain&mdash;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;I ask not for more&mdash;'tis sufficient for me.</p>
+
+<a name="207"></a>
+<h2>THE USE OF FLOWERS<small>[<a href="#fn1">1</a>]</small>.</h2>
+
+<p><a name="fn1"></a> [Footnote 1: <a href="images/0005.jpg">See
+the frontispiece.</a>]</p>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0209.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0209.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'J'"></a> ust one moment longer, cousin Mary, I want to
+put this flower in your hair. Now doesn't it look sweet, sister
+Aggy?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes! very sweet. And here is the dearest
+little bud I ever saw. I took it from the sweet-briar bush in the
+lane. Put that, too, in cousin Mary's hair."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Little Florence, seeing what was going on, was
+soon, also, at work upon Mary's hair, that, in a little while, was
+covered with buds and blossoms.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Now she is our May Queen," said the children,
+as they hung fondly around their cousin, who had come out into the
+country to enjoy a few weeks of rural quiet, in the season of
+fruits and flowers. "And our May Queen must sing us a song," said
+Agnes, who was sitting at the feet of her cousin. "Sing us
+something about flowers."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes!" spoke up Grace, "sing us that
+beautiful piece by Mrs Howitt, about the use of flowers. You sang
+it for us, you remember, the last time you were here."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Cousin Mary sang as desired. After she had
+concluded, she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Flowers, according to these beautiful verses,
+are only useful as objects to delight our senses. They are only
+beautiful forms in nature&mdash;their highest use, their beauty and
+fragrance."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I think that is what Mrs Howitt means," replied
+Grace. "So I have always understood her. And I cannot see any other
+use that flowers have. Do you know of any other use, cousin?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes. Flowers have a more important use than
+merely giving delight to the senses. Without them, plants could not
+produce fruit and seed. You notice that the flower always comes
+before the fruit?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, yes. But why is a flower needed? Why does
+not the fruit push itself directly out from the stem of a plant?"
+asked Agnes.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Flowers are the most exquisitely delicate in
+their texture of all forms in the vegetable kingdom. Look at the
+petals of this one. Could any thing be softer or finer? The leaf,
+the bark, and the wood of the plant are all coarse, in comparison
+to the flower. Now, as nothing is made in vain, there must be some
+reason for this. The leaves and bark, as well as wood, of plants,
+all have vessels through which sap flows, and this sap nourishes,
+sustains, and builds up the plant, as our blood does our bodies.
+But the whole effort of the plant is to reproduce itself; and to
+this end it forms seed, which, when cast into the ground, takes
+root, springs up, and makes a new plant. To form this seed,
+requires the purest juices of the plant, and these are obtained by
+means of the flowers, through the exquisitely fine vessels of which
+these juices are filtered, or strained, and thus separated from all
+that is gross and impure."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I never thought of that before," said Agnes.
+"Flowers, then, are useful, as well as beautiful."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Nothing is made for mere beauty. All things in
+nature regard use as an end. To flowers are assigned a high and
+important use, and exquisite beauty of form and color is at the
+same time given to them; and with these our senses are delighted.
+They are, in more respects than one, good gifts from our heavenly
+Father."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh! how I do love the flowers," said Agnes;
+"and now, when I look upon them, and think of their use as well as
+their beauty, I will love them still more. Are they so very
+beautiful because their use is such an important one, cousin
+Mary?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, dear; I believe this is so. In the seeds
+of plants there is an image of the infinity of our great Creator;
+for in seeds resides a power, or an effort, to reproduce the
+plants, that lie concealed as gems within them, to infinity. We
+might naturally enough suppose that flowers, whose use it is to
+refine and prepare the juices of plants, so as to free them from
+all grosser matters, and make them fit for the important office of
+developing and maturing seeds, would be exceedingly delicate in
+their structure, and, as a natural consequence, beautiful to look
+upon. And we will believe, therefore, that their peculiar beauty
+depends upon their peculiar use."</p>
+
+<a name="211"></a>
+<h2>SLIDING DOWN HILL.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0213.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0213.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'S'"></a> ay what you will&mdash;talk about cold hands,
+feet, and noses, as much as you please&mdash;there are about as fine
+sports in winter as we get in the whole year. There is something
+very exciting in snow. A snow storm acts like electricity upon the
+spirits of the boys&mdash;and girls too, for that matter. How busy we
+used to be, on Saturday afternoon, when there was no school, as
+soon as the first flakes of snow had whitened the ground, making
+new sleds, and mending up old ones.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Our southern readers know very little about
+these sports of winter. I have a good mind to enlighten them a
+little. Imagine, my young friends&mdash;you who live so near the tropics
+that snow and ice are objects of curiosity&mdash;imagine, if you can,
+the earth covered to the depth of two feet or more with snow. In
+some places, the drifts are as high as your head, and higher too.
+When it first falls, the particles are loosely thrown together; but
+a warm sun or a little shower of rain melts them down a little, and
+then comes a night cold enough to freeze up your mouth, if you
+don't look out, and the surface of the snow becomes hard and
+slippery. Then such a time as the boys have sliding down hill&mdash;why,
+it is worth coming up as far north as New York, and running the
+risk of having your fingers frozen a little, to see them at it, and
+take a few trips down the hill.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0214.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0214.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"SLIDING DOWN HILL."></a><br>SLIDING DOWN HILL.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">A sled constructed for this purpose is a very
+simple thing. I will sketch one for you. Here it is, and a boy
+carrying it up the hill.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0215.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0215.jpg" border="0" alt="[Illustration]"></a></p>
+
+<p align="justify">When the boy gets to the top of the hill, he
+sometimes lies and sometimes sits up on his sled, and lets it go.
+It finds its way down, without any of the boy's help, you may
+depend upon it. He has to guide it a little with his feet, though.
+If he did not, he might come in contact with another boy's sled, or
+a rock, perhaps; and that would be rather a serious joke, when the
+sled was going like the cars on a railroad.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0216.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0216.jpg" border="0" alt="[Illustration]"></a></p>
+
+<p align="justify">Sometimes there are a dozen boys, all or nearly
+all with a sled of their own, sliding down the same hill at once.
+In fact, we used to have the whole school at it, now and then, when
+I was a little boy. It was a merry time then, you may be sure.
+Occasionally we would have a large sled, which it took three or
+four boys to draw up the hill. Then half a dozen of us would get
+on, and slide down in advance of the wind, it seemed to me&mdash;for it
+was so swift that I scarcely could breathe&mdash;until we came up all
+standing in a huge snow bank.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Sometimes, when we were half way down, and our
+locomotive was under a full pressure of steam, a boy would fall
+off, and, not being able to check the force he received from the
+sled, would go down to the bottom of the hill in a manner
+calculated to raise a very stormy concert of laughter from the rest
+of the boys. And the poor John Gilpin enjoyed the fun, too, or
+tried to enjoy it, as much as any of them, though he did not laugh
+quite so heartily; and he could well be pardoned for not doing
+that, certainly, until he had got to the end of his ludicrous
+race.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I can recollect a great many funny adventures
+connected with sliding down hill. I don't know that I ever laughed
+more in my life at any one time, than I did once at a feat of Jack
+Mason's. Jack was a courageous fellow&mdash;one of the most daring boys
+in the whole school. Some thirty or forty of us were one bright
+Saturday afternoon sliding down a fine hill, with a good level
+valley at its foot, when Jack challenged the boys to go down the
+other side, which was a great deal steeper, and which had an
+immense drift of snow at the bottom. No one dared to do it. We all
+thought it would be rather too serious business. Jack surveyed the
+ground for a few minutes, and screwed his courage up to the highest
+point. "I am going down," said he. We tried to dissuade him, but it
+was of no use. When Jack had made up his mind, you might as well
+attempt to turn the course of the north wind as to turn him. The
+words were no sooner out of his mouth, than down he went, like an
+arrow. We trembled for him, and held our breath almost, as we
+watched his sled; for it used to be a proverb with us, that Jack
+would break his neck one of these days, and we were not without our
+fears that the day had come.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Down went Jack on his sled, and in a few moments
+he was plunged in the snow bank out of sight. We all ran down to
+dig him out, scarcely daring to hope we should find him alive. We
+worked like beavers for a considerable time, and found nothing of
+the poor adventurer. At last, more than a rod from where he entered
+the bank, up popped Jack, as white with snow as if he had been into
+a flour barrel, tugging his sled after him, and grinning like a
+right merry fellow, as he was. Take it all in all, it was one of
+the most laughable sights I ever saw; and now as I write, and a
+sort of a daguerreotype likeness of Jack, just emerging, like a
+ghost, from that snow bank, comes up to my mind, I have to stop and
+laugh almost as heartily as I did at the scene itself, when it
+occurred.</p>
+
+<a name="217"></a>
+<h2>A GARDEN OVERRUN WITH WEEDS.</h2>
+
+<p align="justify">"<a href="images/0219.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0219.jpg" border="0" align="left" alt=
+"Ornamental 'F'"></a> ather, I don't like to go to school," said
+Harry Williams, one morning. "I wish you would let me always stay
+at home. Charles Parker's father don't make him go to school."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mr Williams took his little boy by the hand, and
+said kindly to him, "Come, my son, I want to show you something in
+the garden."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Harry walked into the garden with his father,
+who led him along until they came to a bed in which peas were
+growing, the vines supported by thin branches that had been placed
+in the ground. Not a weed was to be seen about their roots, nor
+even disfiguring the walk around the bed in which they had been
+planted.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"See how beautifully these peas are growing, my
+son," said Mr Williams. "How clean and healthy the vines look. We
+shall have an abundant crop. Now let me show you the vines in Mr
+Parker's garden. We can look at them through a great hole in his
+fence."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mr Williams then led Harry through the garden
+gate and across the road, to look at Mr Parker's pea vines through
+the hole in the fence. The bed in which they were growing was near
+to the road; so they had no difficulty in seeing it. After looking
+into the garden for a few moments, Mr Williams said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, my son, what do you think of Mr Parker's
+pea vines?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, father!" replied the little boy; "I never
+saw such poor looking peas in my life! There are no sticks for them
+to run upon, and the weeds are nearly as high as the peas
+themselves. There won't be half a crop!"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Why are they so much worse than ours,
+Harry?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Because they have been left to grow as they
+pleased. I suppose Mr Parker just planted them, and never took any
+care of them afterward. He has neither taken out the weeds, nor
+helped them to grow right."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Yes, that is just the truth, my son. A garden
+will soon be overrun with weeds and briars, if it is not cultivated
+with the greatest care. And just so it is with the human garden.
+This precious garden must be trained and watered, and kept free
+from weeds, or it will run to waste. Children's minds are like
+garden beds; and they must be as carefully tended, and even more
+carefully, than the choicest plants. If you, my son, were never to
+go to school, nor have good seeds of knowledge planted in your
+mind, it would, when you become a man, resemble the weed-covered,
+neglected bed we have just been looking at, instead of the
+beautiful one in my garden. Would you think me right to neglect my
+garden as Mr Parker neglects his?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, no, father; your garden is a good garden,
+but Mr Parker's is all overrun with weeds and briars. It won't
+yield half as much as yours will."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Or, my son, do you think I would be right if I
+neglected my son as Mr Parker neglects his son, allowing him to run
+wild, and his mind, uncultivated, to become overgrown with
+weeds?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Little Harry made no reply; but he understood
+pretty clearly what his father meant.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I send you to school," Mr Williams continued,
+"in order that the garden of your mind may have good seeds sown in
+it, and that these seeds may spring up and grow, and produce
+plentifully. Now which would you prefer, to stay at home from
+school, and so let the garden of your mind be overrun with weeds,
+or go to school, and have this garden cultivated?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I would rather go to school," said Harry. "But,
+father, is Charles Parker's mind overrun with weeds?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I am afraid that it is. If not, it certainly
+will be, if his father does not send him to school. For a little
+boy not to be sent to school, is a great misfortune, and I hope you
+will think the privilege of going to school a very great one
+indeed."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Harry Williams listened to all his father said,
+and, what was better, thought about it, too. He never again asked
+to stay home from school.</p>
+
+<a name="221"></a>
+<h2>JULIAN PARMELEE;</h2>
+
+<h3>OR DISAPPOINTMENT SOMETIMES A BLESSING.</h3>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0223.jpg"><img src="images/thumb/0223.jpg"
+border="0" align="left" alt="Ornamental 'I'"></a>n a pleasant New England village, several years ago, there was
+a good deal of excitement produced among the little folks, by the
+appearance, on the sign-post, and in the tavern and store, of some
+large placards, with very curious and funny pictures upon them.
+These placards made known the important fact, that, for the sum of
+ninepence, (a shilling, according to the currency of New York,) any
+boy and girl in the vicinity might have the pleasure of seeing some
+of the most astonishing feats of trained animals ever heard of. On
+a certain day there was to be a sort of juggler, who would play on
+some kind of instruments. The music made by this man would have the
+power of charming the animals&mdash;so the advertisement read&mdash;and the
+instant they heard it, they would commence playing their antics.
+There was a great black bear who would stand on his head; a dog who
+knew almost as much as his master; a cock that could walk on a pair
+of high stilts. Then there were learned monkeys, learned pigs, and
+I know not what besides.</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0224.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0224.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE &quot;SHOW.&quot;"></a><br>THE &quot;SHOW.&quot;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">The pictures of these different animals,
+performing their several exploits, caused a great deal of wonder
+and admiration among the village boys and girls. In cities, where
+such exhibitions occur very frequently, such things would not be
+much thought of. But it is very different in the country, where
+public exhibitions of every sort are "like angels' visits, few and
+far between." For nearly a week before the day appointed for this
+juggling exhibition, there was nothing talked of in this quiet
+village so much as the "show." Ninepences that had been a
+twelvemonth in accumulating, were now in great demand; and more
+than one boy sighed as he reflected that he had spent his pennies
+in candies and other nice things, so that he had none left for the
+"show," and secretly resolved that he would be wiser next time, and
+not allow his money to slip through his fingers so easily.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Among those who had the permission of their
+parents to visit the exhibition, and who were anxiously longing for
+the day to come, were Julian Parmelee and his sister. Julian,
+especially&mdash;a boy of about nine years of age&mdash;was almost crazy
+with delight, when his mother told him he might go. He jumped,
+danced, clapped his hands, shouted, and went through so many
+strange manoeuvres, that his elder brother George, who was rather
+more sober on the occasion, said he guessed he should not go to the
+court-house and pay ninepence to see the show, for he was in a fair
+way to get the exhibition at home, for nothing.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Oh, mother!" said Julian, "do you really
+believe the bear will stand on his head? What a funny sight it must
+be! I wonder if they keep the bear chained. I shall take care I do
+not get within reach of his paws, I guess. Charley Staples said he
+didn't believe it was half so big as the one he saw when he was up
+in Vermont. How big is it, mother? as big as our Carlo? Oh, I wish
+it was time to go now! I should think monkeys were very funny
+creatures. They say there is one in the show that rides a horse,
+just like a man. Ha! ha! ha!" And he laughed so loudly that he
+waked up the baby in the cradle.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">I do not wonder at all that little Julian was so
+much delighted with the idea of going to this exhibition. It was
+something entirely new to him; and to children, especially, such
+singular feats as these animals were to perform, are always
+entertaining. It may, however, admit of a question, whether it is
+right, just for our amusement, to inflict so much pain upon these
+poor creatures as is necessary to teach them their several parts.
+It seems rather cruel. You know what the frogs once said to the
+boys, according to the fable, in the matter of stoning: "Young
+gentlemen, you do not consider, that while this is sport to you, it
+is death to us." These poor bears, and monkeys, and other animals,
+while they are going through their education, might use some such
+language to their teachers, perhaps, if they had the same faculty
+that the fable ascribes to the frogs. But, however that may be, it
+was very natural that Julian should be half frantic at the thought
+of seeing the show, and quite as natural that Julian's father and
+mother should consent to let him go.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Well, some two days before the exhibition was to
+take place, Julian was taken sick. There is a class of
+diseases&mdash;such as the measles and the whooping-cough&mdash;which, you
+know, almost every boy and girl must have some time or another; and
+it is not always left with the children to decide precisely when
+they shall take their turn. One of these diseases had made Julian a
+call, and insisted on staying with him a week or two. It was the
+whooping-cough. Julian wanted to be excused for a few days; but the
+old fellow told him, in his wheezing way, that he could not think
+of letting him off so long. Julian was disappointed, and cried a
+good deal. It did seem rather hard that he must be caged up in his
+chamber just at this time. He was not so sick as to make it
+necessary to stay at home; but his mother thought it would be wrong
+to allow him to go where there were to be so many other children,
+because they would be in danger of taking the disease from him. So
+it was decided that he could not see the "show;" and he fretted and
+stormed, and made himself very unhappy. He was usually a
+good-natured boy, but it must be confessed, that he was now quite
+out of humor.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"I don't see what I'm sick for, just when I
+wanted to go to the 'show.' I declare, it is too bad. And the
+whooping-cough, too! If it was any thing else, I could go. What
+under the sun&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There, Julian, that will do, I think," said his
+mother, kindly.</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Julian checked himself, but he could hardly help
+muttering something about its being "very provoking."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">Mrs Parmelee was silent for a while, until the
+peevishness of her child had a little time to subside, and then she
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"My dear child, I am sorry that you should feel
+so; for you not only make yourself unhappy, but you are finding
+fault with God, and you know that is very wrong. God had something
+to do with your sickness. He could very easily have prevented it,
+if he had chosen to do so. But he did not choose to prevent it,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Well, why didn't he prevent it, mother?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Hear me through, my child. If he allowed you to
+be sick, when he could have kept you well, then it is certain that,
+on the whole, he would rather you would be sick. You see this,
+don't you, Julian?" "Yes, ma'am. God made me sick, didn't he?"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"There's no doubt that all diseases are under
+his control."</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Then, mama, I am sure that God&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p align="justify">"Not quite so fast. I want you to see what
+you was doing, when you was so peevish a little while ago. You was very
+much out of humor. Indeed, I think you showed some anger."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Oh, no, mother, I was not angry."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Perhaps not, my child; but what would you call that spirit, if it was
+not anger?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"I was&mdash;I was&mdash;provoked&mdash;I mean vexed, mama."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Well, who vexed you?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Nobody; it was the whooping-cough."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"I'm very sorry that my child should get into such a passion&mdash;or
+vexation, whichever it may be&mdash;with the whooping-cough; for you say that
+you suppose the disease was under the control of God, so that it must
+have been rather an innocent sort of thing, after all. If you should
+fall into the mill-pond, and a man standing on the shore should let you
+struggle a while before he helped you out, you would get vexed, wouldn't
+you?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"I guess I should."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"You would certainly have as much reason for vexation as you have had
+this morning. But would you be likely to get vexed with the water?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Why, no, mama. I should be provoked with the man, because he didn't
+help me out."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"I thought so. Well, then, don't you think you found fault with God, in
+this matter of the whooping-cough?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"It may be so."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"It must be so."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+Little Julian was a thoughtful child. He saw that this spirit of
+peevishness was very wrong, and that he had murmured against God. He
+told his mother that he hoped he should not do so any more. He was
+silent for some minutes, and then said&mdash;
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"There is one thing I would like to know about, mother; but it may be I
+ought not to ask."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"What is it, Julian?" asked his mother.
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"If God is kind, and if he loves us, why does he let us get sick? I am
+sure you would keep me well all the time, if you could, because you love
+me, and because you are good and kind."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"I am glad you asked that question, Julian. There are a great many
+things which we cannot understand about the government of God. But I
+think I can explain this to you. God, it is true, often disappoints us,
+and gives us pain, and makes us weep. This would all seem very strange,
+and almost unkind, if we did not know that God has some other end in
+view besides making us happy in this life. He is training us for another
+world; and if you live to be a man, you will see that such
+disappointments as this of yours, for a part of God's plan of fitting
+his children for heaven."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"But I think we should be just as good, if he did not make us feel bad
+and cry."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"That is your mistake. Do you think you would be just as good a child,
+if your parents always humored you, and gave you every plaything you
+asked for? Are you quite sure that you would now mind your father and
+mother as well, if you had always been allowed to have your own way?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"But you don't make me sick, mother."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"True. We correct you in another way. But we sometimes give you pain,
+and make you cry. Did you ever think, when your father reproved you and
+punished you, that it was because he did not love you?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Oh, no, mother."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"You can see how your father can be kind and affectionate, and still
+give you pain?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Yes, ma'am."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Then cannot you see how God may disappoint <i>his</i> children, and
+even make them unhappy for a time, and love them tenderly, too?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Oh, mother, I see it all now! I wonder I never thought of this before!
+Well, the whooping-cough is not so bad, after all. I've learned
+something by it, at any rate."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+"Yes, and it may be worth a great deal more to you than the 'show' would
+have been."
+</p>
+
+<a name="232"></a>
+
+<h2>
+    THE OLD MAN AT THE COTTAGE DOOR.
+</h2>
+
+<p>Come, faint old man! and sit awhile<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Beside our cottage door;<br>
+A cup of water from the spring,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;A loaf to bless the poor,<br>
+We give with cheerful hearts, for God<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Hath given us of his store. </p>
+
+<p>Too feeble, thou, for daily toil,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Too weak to earn thy bread&mdash;<br>
+For th' weight of many, many years,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Lies heavy on thy head&mdash;<br>
+A wanderer, want, thy weary feet,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Hath to our cottage led. </p>
+
+<p>Come rest awhile. 'Twill not be long,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Ere thy faint head shall know<br>
+A deeper, calmer, better rest,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Than cometh here below;<br>
+When He, who loveth every one,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Shall call thee hence to go. </p>
+
+<p>God bless thee in thy wanderings!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Wherever they may be,<br>
+And make the ears of every one<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Attentive to thy plea;<br>
+A double blessing will be theirs,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Who kindly turn to thee. </p>
+
+<a name="234"></a>
+
+<h2>
+    STORY OF A STOLEN PEN.
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    WRITTEN BY ITSELF.
+</h3>
+
+<p align="justify"><a href="images/0236.jpg"><img src="images/thumb/0236.jpg"
+border="0" align="left" alt="Ornamental 'M'"></a>y friend, Theodore Thinker, who is an odd sort of a genius, and
+frequently takes up things after a singular fashion, has put into my
+hands a paper with this caption: "Story of a Stolen Pen, written by
+itself." It seems, from a somewhat lengthy introduction&mdash;too lengthy to
+be here quoted&mdash;that the pen once belonged to some editor or another;
+and as Theodore has something to do with editorial matters himself, I
+should not wonder if he is the one. Some curious readers may be disposed
+to inquire how the pen was made to talk so fluently, and perhaps some
+others would like to know how it was found in the first place. I can't
+answer these reasonable inquiries. The manuscript is entirely silent on
+both points. I have my conjectures in relation to the thing&mdash;pretty
+strong conjectures, too. I guess the whole story is a fable, to tell the
+truth. But never mind. There is a great deal of sense in fables
+sometimes; and who knows but there may be some in this? At all events,
+we must have
+</p>
+<h3>
+THE STORY.
+</h3>
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0237.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0237.jpg" border="0" alt=
+"THE THIEF STEALING THE PEN."></a><br>THE THIEF STEALING THE PEN.</p>
+<p align="justify">
+I wish you could have seen the thief in the act of stealing me. What a
+sorry face he had on! I send you a rough sketch of him&mdash;for I have a
+little talent at drawing&mdash;taken from memory. I was lying on the desk,
+close by a manuscript which I had commenced. He snatched me as soon as
+the editor's back was turned, and ran out of the office. I wonder the
+people did not notice that he was a rogue as he passed along the street.
+Why, he stared at every body he met, as if he was afraid they were going
+to give him an invitation to walk to the police office. The first thing
+he did was to call at several pawnbroker's offices, where he tried to
+sell me. No one would give him what he asked. He wanted ten or twelve
+dollars, I believe. Well, he gave up that project before night, and I
+heard him mutter to himself, "If I only had the money for it!" After
+supper he took me into his room, and when he had locked the door fast,
+he began to examine me carefully. "It <i>is</i> a beautiful pen," said
+he, and then he tried to see how I would write. I should think he was a
+pretty good penman. He made a great many flourishes with me, and wrote
+his name several times. His name was John Smith, by the way, or at any
+rate, that was the signature he made. "What a fine pen this is," said
+he; "I never wrote with a better pen in my life. But it won't do for me
+to keep it. I shall be found out, if I do. Oh, dear! I wish I had got it
+without stealing it. I wonder where I can sell the troublesome thing."
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+Just then somebody knocked at the door. It was a long time before he let
+the person in. He had to think what he would do with me first, and it
+took him a good while to put away the paper he had been scribbling on.
+"Why, John!" said the man, when he came in, "what makes you look so
+frightened? I should think you took me for a tiger, or some such
+animal." "I've got the toothache," said the thief, "and I have sent for
+the doctor to pull it out. I thought he had come when you knocked. Dear
+me! how I dread it! Did you ever have a tooth drawn?"
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+So you see the fellow told a lie. Those who break one of God's
+commandments, are pretty likely to break more before they get through.
+My new owner seemed to find it difficult to get to sleep that night, and
+after he did get to sleep, he muttered a good deal in his dreams. Once I
+heard him say, "No; I bought it of Mr Bagley, in Broadway." I could not
+help thinking that he ought to be content with telling lies when he was
+awake.
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+One day he left me on the table when he went out. It was unfortunate for
+him. That night I overheard the chambermaid talking with him about it,
+and I saw him turn very red in the face. It was evident she did not
+believe his story about buying the pen of Mr Bagley, though he told it
+over and over again, and made use of a terrible oath, which I dare not
+repeat. Poor man! I pitied him. He was certainly very unhappy. He wanted
+to sell me very much indeed; but some how or other, no one would give
+the price he asked. Perhaps they remembered the saying, "The buyer is as
+bad as the thief." He offered me to one man in Pearl street, who seemed
+a little disposed to buy. "Wait a minute," said he; and he went into a
+back room to speak to somebody. But John Smith thought it would be safer
+for him not to wait. I guess he had his mind on the subject of police
+officers at that time.
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+He never went to church with me but once; and then, strange enough, the
+minister preached from this text: "The way of transgressors is hard."
+I could feel the poor man's heart throb, as the clergyman slowly read
+the words. When he went home, he was in great distress&mdash;for the sermon
+was a very solemn one&mdash;and he took down from a shelf a small Bible, all
+covered with dust, and looked at some words which were written on the
+first leaf. I don't wonder he wept, as he read them&mdash;"A mother's gift."
+He remembered where the text was, and he turned to it, and read it again
+and again. "Yes," said he, "it is true&mdash;too true. But what shall I do?
+I have been to the theatre so much now, that I can't be happy unless I
+go; and where am I to get the money? I wish I had never begun to steal.
+Oh! that was a sad day for me, when I listened to wicked boys, and
+robbed that old man's pear tree." I saw then how he first became a
+thief; and I thought I should like to have every body know that when
+boys are stealing apples, and pears, and peaches, they are serving an
+apprenticeship to the business of stealing on a larger scale. I myself
+have heard of many a highway robber, who began his career in the orchard
+of his neighbor.
+</p>
+<p align="justify">
+Mr Smith did not reform. About three months ago, he stole a horse from
+a stable in the upper part of the city, and immediately left for some
+place in New Jersey. It was a beautiful horse, but he could not sell
+him. People were suspicious. At last he was arrested, and had to go to
+Sing Sing prison. I hope he will make up his mind to be an honest man
+now; for he has certainly learned, by pretty dear experience, that
+"honesty is the best policy." I can't think he would steal any more if
+they should let him out. Still, I am not sure. The habit was very
+strong.
+</p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0249.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0249.jpg" border="0" alt="backcover"></a></p>
+
+<p align="center"><a href="images/0250.jpg"><img src=
+"images/thumb/0250.jpg" border="0" alt="spine"></a></p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,4767 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wreaths of Friendship, by T. S. Arthur and F.
+C. Woodworth
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Wreaths of Friendship
+       A Gift for the Young
+
+
+Author: T. S. Arthur and F. C. Woodworth
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 15, 2005  [eBook #16073]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Rudy Ketterer, Jason Isbell, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) from page
+images generously made available by Internet Archive and the University of
+Florida
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 16073-h.htm or 16073-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/0/7/16073/16073-h/16073-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/0/7/16073/16073-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://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=jpg
+      or
+      http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=pdf
+
+
+
+
+
+WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP:
+
+A Gift for the Young
+
+by
+
+T. S. ARTHUR and F. C. WOODWORTH
+
+New York:
+Charles Scribner,
+36 Park Row, And 145 Nassau St.
+Stereotyped by Baker & Palmer
+11 Spruce Street.
+
+1851
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Wreaths of Friendship]
+
+
+[Illustration: TOKENS OF AFFECTION. (See Page 207.)]
+
+
+
+
+
+Preface.
+
+
+Young friends--stop a moment. We have set up a sort of turnpike gate
+here, as you see, between the title-page and the first story in our
+book, in the shape of a preface, or introduction. "What! do you mean to
+take toll of us, then?" Why, no--not exactly. But we want to say half a
+dozen words to you, as you pass along, and to tell you a little about
+these WREATHS which we have been twining for our friends. So you need
+not be in quite so great a hurry. Wait a minute.
+
+You have no doubt noticed that it is a very common thing for an author
+to take up several of the first pages of his book with apologies to his
+readers. First, perhaps, he apologizes for writing at all; and secondly,
+for writing so poorly--just as if it was a crime to make a book, for
+which crime the author must get down on his knees, and humbly beg the
+public's pardon. We think we shall not take this course, on the whole,
+for this reason, if for no other--that we do not feel very guilty about
+what we have done. But as the plan of our book is somewhat new, we have
+been thinking it would be well enough, in introducing it to you, at
+least to tell how we came to make it.
+
+We have both of us published a good deal, in one way and another, for
+young people; and we got a notion--a very pleasant one, certainly, and
+rather natural, withal, whether well founded or not--that among that
+class of the public composed of boys and girls, we had a pretty
+respectable number of friends. Under this impression, we put our heads
+together, one day, and made up our minds to invite these friends of
+ours, every one of them, to a kind of festival, and that we would share
+equally in the pleasure of giving the entertainment. The book, reader,
+which we have named WREATHS OF FRIENDSHIP, as perhaps you have already
+guessed, grew out of that plan of ours.
+
+We have not, as you will perceive, indicated the authorship of the tales
+and sketches, as they appear; and those readers who have any curiosity
+in this matter, are referred to the index.
+
+We hope the volume will please you. More than this: we hope it will
+prove to be useful--useful for the future as well as for the present
+life; and, indeed, if it had not been for this hope, much as we love to
+entertain our young friends, these Wreaths would never have been twined
+by our hands.
+
+We have little else to add, except the fondest wishes of our hearts;
+and, to tell the truth, it was to express to you these kind wishes--to
+give you something like a hearty shake of the hand--rather than because
+we had any thing of importance to say in our preface, that we stopped
+you at the outset.
+
+                                                            THE AUTHORS.
+
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+                                                      Authors.  Page.
+
+  What shall we Build?                                 T.S.A.     13
+  The Two Cousins                                      F.C.W.     16
+  A Noble Act                                          T.S.A.     28
+  The Word of God                                      T.S.A.     35
+  Harsh Words and Kind Words                           T.S.A.     36
+  The Herons and the Herrings                          F.C.W.     41
+  Early Spring Flowers                                 F.C.W.     43
+  Temptation Resisted                                  T.S.A.     51
+  Evening Prayer                                       T.S.A.     61
+  Stretching the Truth                                 F.C.W.     63
+  The City Pigeon                                      T.S.A.     67
+  A Day in the Woods                                   T.S.A.     72
+  The Spider and the Honey Bee                         F.C.W.     81
+  Emma Lee and her Sixpence                            T.S.A.     88
+  Uncle Roderick's Stories                             F.C.W.     93
+  Honesty the Best Policy                              F.C.W.     94
+  How a Rogue Feels when he is Caught                  F.C.W.     97
+  The Weekly Newspaper                                 F.C.W.    100
+  The Cider Plot                                       F.C.W.    103
+  My First Hunting Excursion                           F.C.W.    107
+  Saturday in Winter                                   T.S.A.    111
+  Rover and his Little Master                          T.S.A.    113
+  Something Wrong                                      T.S.A.    117
+  The Favorite Child                                   F.C.W.    121
+  The Mine                                             T.S.A.    129
+  The Miner                                            T.S.A.    132
+  Visit to Fairy Land                                  F.C.W.    135
+  The Hermit                                           T.S.A.    143
+  A Picture                                            T.S.A.    147
+  The Boy and the Robin                                F.C.W.    150
+  Something about Conscience                           F.C.W.    152
+  Old Ned                                              T.S.A.    166
+  The Freed Butterfly                                  T.S.A.    175
+  Julia and Her Birds                                  F.C.W.    177
+  The Song of the Snow Bird                            T.S.A.    185
+  How to Avoid a Quarrel                               T.S.A.    189
+  Passing for More than One is Worth                   F.C.W.    197
+  The Lament of the Invalid                            F.C.W.    205
+  The Use of Flowers                                   T.S.A.    207
+  Sliding Down Hill                                    F.C.W.    211
+  A Garden Overrun with Weeds                          T.S.A.    217
+  Disappointment Sometimes a Blessing                  F.C.W.    221
+  The Old Man at the Cottage Door                      T.S.A.    232
+  Story of a Stolen Pen                                F.C.W.    234
+
+
+
+
+
+                               WREATHS.
+                         WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?
+
+
+Four children were playing on the sea-shore. They had gathered bright
+pebbles and beautiful shells, and written their names in the pure, white
+sand; but at last, tired of their sport, they were about going home, when
+one of them, as they came to a pile of stones, cried out:
+
+"Oh! let us build a fort; and we will call that ship away out there, an
+enemy's vessel, and make believe we are firing great cannon balls into
+her!"
+
+"Yes, yes! let us build a fort," responded Edward, the other lad.
+
+And the two boys--for two were boys and two girls--ran off to the pile of
+stones, and began removing them to a place near the water.
+
+"Come, Anna and Jane," said they, "come and help us."
+
+"Oh, no. Don't let us build a fort," said Jane.
+
+[Illustration: WHAT SHALL WE BUILD?]
+
+"Yes; we will build a fort," returned the boys. "What else can we build?
+You wouldn't put a house down here upon the water's edge?"
+
+"No; but I'll tell you what we can build, and it will be a great deal
+better than a fort."
+
+"Well; what can we build?"
+
+"A light-house," said the girls; "and that will be just as much in place on
+the edge of the sea as a fort. We can call the ship yonder a vessel lost in
+the darkness, and we will hang out a light and direct her in the true way.
+Won't that be much better than to call her an enemy, and build a fort to
+destroy her? See how beautifully she sits upon and glides over the smooth
+water! Her sails are like the open wings of a bird, and they bear her
+gracefully along. Would it not be cruel to shoot great balls into her
+sides, tear her sails to pieces, and kill the men who are on board of her?
+Oh! I am sure it would make us all happier to save her when in darkness and
+danger. No, no; let us not build a fort, but a light-house; for it is
+better to save than to destroy."
+
+The girls spoke with tenderness and enthusiasm, and their words reached the
+better feelings of their companions.
+
+"Oh, yes," said they; "we will build a light-house, and not a fort." And
+they did so.
+
+Yes, it is much better to save than to destroy. Think of that, children,
+and let it go with you through life. Be more earnest to save your friends
+than to destroy your enemies. And yet, when a real enemy comes, and seeks
+to do evil, be brave to resist him.
+
+
+
+
+                            THE TWO COUSINS;
+                 OR, HOW TO ACT WHEN "THINGS GO WRONG."
+
+
+"There, mother, I knew it would be so. Lucy Wallace has just sent over to
+tell me she can't walk out in the woods with me. There's no use in my
+trying to please any body--there's no use in it. I'm an odd sort of a
+creature, it seems. Nobody loves me. It always was so. Oh, dear! I wish I
+knew what I had done to make the girls hate me so!"
+
+This not very good-natured speech was made by a little girl, whom I shall
+call Angeline Standish. She was some ten or twelve years old, as near as I
+can recollect. Perhaps my readers would like to know something about the
+occasion which called for this speech; but it is a long story, and hardly
+worth telling. The truth is, when little boys and girls get very angry, or
+peevish, or fretful, they sometimes blow out a great deal of ill-humor,
+something after the manner that an overcharged steam boiler lets off
+steam--with this difference, however, that the steam boiler gets cooler by
+the operation, while the boy or girl gets more heated. The throat is a poor
+safety-valve for ill-humor; and it is bad business, this setting the tongue
+agoing at such a rate, whenever the mercury in one's temper begins to rise
+toward the boiling point.
+
+As is usual, in such cases, Angeline felt worse after these words had
+whistled through the escape pipe of her ill-nature, than she did before;
+and, for want of something else to do, she commenced crying. She was not
+angry--that is, not altogether so--though the spirit she showed was a
+pretty good imitation of anger, it must be confessed. She was peevish.
+Matters had not gone right with her that day. She was crossed in this thing
+and that thing. Her new hat had not come home from the milliner's, as she
+expected; one of her frocks had just got badly torn; she had a hard lesson
+to learn; and I cannot repeat the whole catalogue of her miseries. So she
+fretted, and stormed, and cried, and felt just as badly as she chose.
+
+Not long after the crying spell was over, and there was a little blue sky
+in sight, Jeannette Forrest, a cousin of Angeline's, came running into the
+room, her face all lighted up with smiles, and threw her arms around her
+cousin's neck, and kissed her. This was no uncommon thing with Jeannette.
+She had a very happy and a very affectionate disposition. Every body loved
+her, and she loved every body.
+
+One not acquainted with Angeline, might very naturally suppose that she
+would return her cousin's embrace. But she did no such thing. Her manner
+was quite cool and distant. Human nature is a strange compound, is it not?
+
+"Why, cousin," said the light-hearted Jeannette, "what is the matter? You
+are not well, are you?"
+
+"Yes, well enough," the other replied, rather crustily. Take care,
+Angeline, there's a cloud coming over your cousin's face. Speak a kind word
+or two, now. Then the sun will beam out again, brightly as ever. Jeannette
+was silent for a moment, for she was astonished, and did not know what to
+make of her cousin's manner. It would have appeared uncivil and rude to
+most little girls. But the sweet spirit of Jeannette--loving, hoping,
+trusting--was differently affected. She saw only the brighter side of the
+picture. So the bee, as she flies merrily from flower to flower, finds a
+store of honey where others would find only poison.
+
+"Dear Angeline," said her cousin, at length, "I'm sure something is the
+matter. Tell me what it is, won't you? Oh, I should love to make you happy,
+if I only knew how!"
+
+Angeline seemed scarcely to hear these words of love. That is strange
+enough, I hear you say. So it is, perhaps, and it may be stranger still,
+that she read not the language of love and sympathy that was written so
+plainly in her cousin's countenance. It is true, though, for all that. She
+did not say much of any thing to this inquiry--she simply muttered, between
+her teeth,
+
+"I don't believe any body loves me."
+
+Jeannette was no philosopher. She could not read essays nor preach sermons.
+Her argument to convince her cousin that there was, at least, one who loved
+her, was drawn from the heart, rather than from the head. It was very
+brief, and very much to the point. She burst into tears, and sobbed,
+
+"Don't say so, dear."
+
+Jeannette could not stay long. Her mother had sent her on an errand, and
+told her she must make haste back. Perhaps it was as well that she could
+not stay--and perhaps not. Human nature is a strange sort of compound, as I
+said before; and it may be that the ice which had covered over the streams
+leading from Angeline's heart would not have melted under the influence
+even of the warm sun that, for a moment or two, beamed upon them so kindly.
+For one, however, I should like to know what would have come out of that
+conversation, if it had been allowed to go on. Jeannette went home, and
+Angeline was again left to her own reflections, which were any thing but
+pleasant. It was Saturday afternoon; and, there being no school, she had
+hoped to be able to ramble in the woods with some of her little companions.
+But here she was disappointed, too, and this increased her peevishness;
+though the reason why she could not go was, because she did not learn her
+lesson in season, and that was her own fault. Toward night, when Mrs
+Standish had leisure to sit down to her sewing, she called Angeline, and
+reminded her of the ill-natured spirit she had shown in the early part of
+the afternoon. The child was rather ashamed of what she had said, it is
+true; but she tried to excuse her conduct.
+
+"Every thing went wrong to-day, mother," she said; "I couldn't help feeling
+so. Oh, dear! I don't see how any body can be good, when things go in this
+way--I mean any body but Jeannette. I wish I was like her. It is easy for
+her to be good."
+
+"Your cousin has, no doubt, a very different disposition from yours," said
+the mother. "But it is much easier for you to be always good-natured and
+happy than you suppose, Angeline."
+
+"I wish I knew how, mother."
+
+"Well, you say things went wrong with you this afternoon. I think I know
+what some of these things were. They were not so pleasant as they might
+have been, certainly. They were troublesome. But don't you think the
+greatest trouble of all was in your own heart?"
+
+"No, ma'am. I was well enough until the things began to go wrong; and then
+I felt bad, and I couldn't help it."
+
+Mrs Standish laughed, as she said, "So, then, as soon as the things begin
+to go wrong, you take the liberty to go wrong too. Every thing works well
+inside, until it is disturbed by something outside?"
+
+"That is it, mother."
+
+"And when the things inside go smoothly, because every thing is smooth
+outside, you have a very good and happy disposition?"
+
+"Pretty good, I think."
+
+"And so, when there is a hurricane inside, because the wind blows rather
+more than usual outside, you are cross, and unhappy, and bad enough to make
+up for being so good before?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I am afraid I am, sometimes."
+
+"No, my child, you are wrong, all wrong. If all was right inside, the other
+things you speak of would not disturb you so, if they should happen to go
+wrong."
+
+"Why, mother, wouldn't they disturb me at all?"
+
+"They might, occasionally, but not near as much. Do you remember that our
+clock went wrong last winter?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; we couldn't tell what time it was, and it used to strike all
+sorts of ways."
+
+"What do you suppose made the clock act so, Angeline? It goes well enough
+now, you know."
+
+"I believe Mr Mercer said one of the wheels was out of order."
+
+"That was all. It was not the weather--not because we forgot to wind it
+up--not because things did not go right in the room. Now, your mind is
+something like a clock. If it is kept in order, it will run pretty well, I
+guess--no matter whether it rains or shines--whether it is winter or
+summer. Milton says, very beautifully, in his poem called the 'Paradise
+Lost,'
+
+  "'The mind is its own place, and of itself
+  Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'
+
+"He means by this, that our happiness or unhappiness depends more upon what
+is within us than it does upon what is without. And he is right. Do you
+understand, my child?"
+
+"I understand what you mean, but it is not so easy to see how I am to go to
+work and be good all the time, like cousin Jeannette. I'm not like her,
+mother, and I never can be like her, I know."
+
+"True, you will always be very unlike your cousin. But I don't know of any
+thing to hinder your being as good and amiable as she is, for all that."
+
+"Oh, mother! I'd give every thing in the world, if I only knew how!"
+
+"I think you can learn, my child, with much less expense; though, to be
+sure, you will have to give up some things that perhaps you will find it
+hard to part with. You will be obliged to give up some of your bad habits."
+
+"That would be easy enough."
+
+"Not so easy as you think, it may be. It is a good deal easier to let a bad
+habit come in, than it is to turn one out. But 'where there's a will,
+there's a way,' you know."
+
+"Well, mother, what shall I do? I should like to begin pretty soon, for
+scarcely any body loves me now,"
+
+"Before you learn much, it might be well to unlearn a little. When any
+thing goes wrong, as you say, you must, at least, not make it go worse. You
+must not make every body around you unhappy, if you do feel a little cross
+and peevish."
+
+"Oh, mother, I can't speak pleasantly when I don't feel so."
+
+"Then, in most cases, you had better not speak at all."
+
+"I never thought of that. I can stop talking, if I try."
+
+"So you can, and you can do more. You can get into the habit of finding
+'the south or sunny side of things,' as Jean Paul says, and if you do, you
+will not be likely to have a snow-storm in your heart very often. Besides,
+you ought to remember, that all these disappointments and crosses are a
+part of your education for heaven, and you should endeavor to improve them
+as such, so that their good effect will not be lost. And another thing, my
+child: you ought to ask God to assist you in this self-government--to make
+you his child--to give you a new heart--to teach you to love Christ, and to
+be like him. Then you will seldom feel cross and fretful, because things go
+wrong. You will be cheerful and good-natured. You will make others
+happy--and you will very soon forget the old story, that nobody loves you."
+
+Now, many little boys and girls--possibly some who read this story--would
+have thought this task too hard. They would have regarded it as a pretty
+severe penance. Perhaps they would have concluded, after having put all
+these difficult things into one scale, and the thing to be gained by them
+into the other, that the reward was not worth so great a sacrifice. So
+thought not Angeline, however. She began the work in earnest, that very
+day. She went over to her uncle's, with an unusual amount of sunshine in
+her countenance, and made it all right with Jeannette. In the evening, she
+told her little brother James what she intended to do, and invited him to
+help her; and before they retired to rest that night, they knelt down
+together and offered up a prayer, that God, for Christ's sake, would help
+them in governing themselves.
+
+One day--perhaps some six weeks after this--Mrs Standish said, smilingly,
+to her daughter,
+
+"Well, my dear, does Lucy Wallace love you any better?"
+
+"Oh, mother," said Angeline, as a tear of joy stood in her eye, "every body
+loves me now!"
+
+
+
+
+                              A NOBLE ACT.
+
+
+"What have you there, boys?" asked Captain Bland.
+
+"A ship," replied one of the lads who were passing the captain's neat
+cottage.
+
+"A ship! Let me see;" and the captain took the little vessel, and examined
+it with as much fondness as a child does a pretty toy. "Very fair, indeed;
+who made it?"
+
+"I did," replied one of the boys.
+
+"You, indeed! Do you mean to be a sailor, Harry?"
+
+"I don't know. I want father to get me into the navy."
+
+"As a midshipman?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Captain Bland shook his head.
+
+"Better be a farmer, a physician, or a merchant."
+
+"Why so, captain?" asked Harry;
+
+"All these are engaged in the doing of things directly useful to society."
+
+"But I am sure, captain, that those who defend us against our enemies, and
+protect all who are engaged in commerce from wicked pirates, are doing what
+is useful to society."
+
+"Their use, my lad," replied Captain Bland, "is certainly a most important
+one; but we may call it rather negative than positive. The civilian is
+engaged in building up and sustaining society in doing good, through his
+active employment, to his fellow-man. But military and naval officers do
+not produce any thing; they only protect and defend."
+
+"But if they did not protect and defend, captain, evil men would destroy
+society. It would be of no use for the civilian to endeavor to build up, if
+there were none to fight against the enemies of the state."
+
+"Very true, my lad. The brave defender of his country cannot be dispensed
+with, and we give him all honor. Still, the use of defence and protection
+is not so high as the use of building up and sustaining. The thorn that
+wounds the hand stretched forth to pluck the flower, is not so much
+esteemed, nor of so much worth, as the blossom it was meant to guard.
+Still, the thorn performs a great use. Precisely a similar use does the
+soldier or naval officer perform to society; and it will be for you, my
+lad, to decide as to which position you would rather fill."
+
+"I never thought of that, captain," said one of the lads. "But I can see
+clearly how it is. And yet I think those men who risk their lives for us in
+war, deserve great honor. They leave their homes, and remain away,
+sometimes for years, deprived of all the comforts and blessings that
+civilians enjoy, suffering frequently great hardships, and risking their
+lives to defend their country from her enemies."
+
+"It is all as you say," replied Captain Bland; "and they do, indeed,
+deserve great honor. Their calling is one that exposes them to imminent
+peril, and requires them to make many sacrifices; and they encounter not
+this peril and sacrifice for their own good, but for the good of others.
+Their lives do not pass so evenly as do the lives of men who spend their
+days in the peaceful pursuits of business, art, or literature; and we could
+hardly wonder if they lost some of the gentler attributes of the human
+heart. In some cases, this is so; but in very many cases the reverse is
+true. We find the man who goes fearlessly into battle, and there, in
+defence of his country, deals death and destruction unsparingly upon her
+enemies, acting, when occasion offers, from the most humane sentiments, and
+jeopardizing his life to save the life of a single individual. Let me
+relate to you a true story in illustration of what I say.
+
+"When the unhappy war that has been waged by our troops in Mexico broke
+out, a lieutenant in the navy, who had a quiet berth at Washington, felt it
+to be his duty to go to the scene of strife, and therefore asked to be
+ordered to the Gulf of Mexico. His request was complied with, and he
+received orders to go on board the steamer Mississippi, Commodore Perry,
+then about to sail from Norfolk to Vera Cruz.
+
+"Soon after the Mississippi arrived out, and before the city and castle
+were taken, a terrible 'norther' sprung up, and destroyed much shipping in
+the harbor. One vessel, on which were a number of passengers, was thrown
+high upon a reef, and when morning broke, the heavy sea was making a clear
+breach through her. She lay about a mile from the Mississippi, and it soon
+became known on board the steamer, that a mother and her infant were in the
+wreck, and that unless succor came speedily, they would perish. The
+lieutenant of whom I speak, immediately ordered out a boat's crew, and
+although the sea was rolling tremendously, and the 'norther' still blowing
+a hurricane, started to the rescue. Right in the teeth of the wind were the
+men compelled to pull their boat, and so slowly did they progress, that it
+took over two hours to gain the wreck.
+
+"At one time, they actually gave out, and the oars lay inactive in their
+hands. At this crisis, the brave but humane officer, pointing with one hand
+to the fortress of San Juan de Ulloa, upon which a fire had already
+commenced, and with the other to the wreck, exclaimed, with noble
+enthusiasm,
+
+"'Pull away, men! I would rather save the life of that woman and her child,
+than have the honor of taking the castle!'
+
+"Struck by the noble, unselfish, and truly humane feelings of their
+officer, the crew bent with new vigor to their oars. In a little while the
+wreck was gained, and the brave lieutenant had the pleasure of receiving
+into his arms the almost inanimate form of the woman, who had been lashed
+to the deck, and over whom the waves had been beating, at intervals, all
+night.
+
+"In writing home to his friends, after the excitement of the adventure was
+over, the officer spoke of the moment when he rescued that mother and child
+from the wreck as the proudest of his life.
+
+"Afterward he took part in the bombardment of Vera Cruz, and had command,
+in turn, of the naval battery, where he faithfully and energetically
+performed his duty as an officer in the service of his country. He was
+among the first of those who entered the captured city; but pain, not
+pleasure, filled his mind, as he looked around, and saw death and
+destruction on every hand. Victory had perched upon our banners; the arms
+of our country had been successful; the officer had bravely contributed his
+part in the work; but he frankly owns that he experienced far more delight
+in saving the woman he had borne from the wreck, than he could have felt
+had he been the commander of the army that reduced the city.
+
+"Wherever duty calls, my lads," concluded the captain, "you will find that
+brave officer. He will never shrink from the post of danger, if his country
+have need of him; nor will he ever be deaf to the appeal of humanity; but
+so long as he is a true man, just so long will he delight more in saving
+than in destroying."
+
+
+
+
+
+                            THE WORD OF GOD.
+
+
+Henry, what book is that you have in your hand?"
+
+"It is the Bible, mother,"
+
+"Oh, no, it cannot be, surely!"
+
+"Why, yes it is--see!"
+
+"And my little boy to treat so roughly the book containing God's holy
+word!"
+
+Henry's face grew serious.
+
+"Oh, I forgot!" he said, and went and laid the good book carefully away.
+
+"Try and not forget again, my son. If you treat this book so lightly now,
+you may, when you become a man, as lightly esteem its holy truths; and then
+you could never live in heaven with the angels. No one goes to heaven who
+does not love and reverence the Word of God, which is holy in every jot and
+tittle."
+
+
+
+
+
+                       HARSH WORDS AND KIND WORDS.
+
+
+William Baker, and his brother Thomas and sister Ellen, were playing on the
+green lawn in front of their mother's door, when a lad named Henry Green
+came along the road, and seeing the children enjoying themselves, opened
+the gate and came in. He was rather an ill-natured boy, and generally took
+more pleasure in teasing and annoying others, than in being happy with
+them. When William saw him coming in through the gate, he called to him and
+said, in a harsh way,
+
+"You may just clear out, Henry Green, and go about your business! We don't
+want you here."
+
+But Henry did not in the least regard what William said. He came directly
+forward, and joined in the sport as freely as if he had been invited
+instead of repulsed. In a little while he began to pull Ellen about rudely,
+and to push Thomas, so as nearly to throw them down upon the grass.
+
+"Go home, Henry Green! Nobody sent for you! Nobody wants you here!" said
+William Baker, in quite an angry tone.
+
+It was of no use, however. William might as well have spoken to the wind.
+His words were entirely unheeded by Henry, whose conduct became ruder and
+more offensive.
+
+Mrs Baker, who sat at the window, saw and heard all that was passing. As
+soon as she could catch the eye of her excited son, she beckoned him to
+come to her, which he promptly did.
+
+"Try kind words on him," she said; "you will find them more powerful than
+harsh words. You spoke very harshly to Henry when he came in, and I was
+sorry to hear it."
+
+"It won't do any good, mother. He's a rude, bad boy, and I wish he would
+stay at home. Won't you make him go home?"
+
+"First go and speak to him in a gentler way than you did just now. Try to
+subdue him with kindness."
+
+William felt that he had been wrong in letting his angry feelings express
+themselves in angry words. So he left his mother and went down upon the
+lawn, where Henry was amusing himself by trying to trip the children with a
+long stick, as they ran about on the green.
+
+"Henry," he said, cheerfully and pleasantly, "if you were fishing in the
+river, and I were to come and throw stones in where your line fell, and
+scare away all the fish, would you like it?"
+
+"No, I should not," the lad replied.
+
+"It wouldn't be kind in me?"
+
+"No, of course it wouldn't."
+
+"Well, now, Henry," William tried to smile and to speak very pleasantly,
+"we are playing here and trying to enjoy ourselves. Is it right for you to
+come and interrupt us by tripping our feet, pulling us about, and pushing
+us down? I am sure you will not think so if you reflect a moment. So don't
+do it any more, Henry."
+
+"No, I will not," replied Henry, promptly. "I am sorry that I disturbed
+you. I didn't think what I was doing. And now I remember, father told me
+not to stay, and I must run home."
+
+So Henry Green went quickly away, and the children were left to enjoy
+themselves.
+
+"Didn't I tell you that kind words were more powerful than harsh words,
+William?" said his mother, after Henry had gone away; "when we speak
+harshly to our fellows, we arouse their angry feelings, and then evil
+spirits have power over them; but when we speak kindly, we affect them with
+gentleness, and good spirits flow into this latter state, and excite in
+them better thoughts and intentions. How quickly Henry changed, when you
+changed your manner and the character of your language. Do not forget this,
+my son. Do not forget, that kind words have double the power of harsh
+ones."
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.]
+
+
+
+
+
+                     THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS.
+                               A FABLE.
+
+
+  A Heron once came--I can scarcely tell why--
+    To the court of his cousins, the fishes,
+  With despatches, so heavy he scarcely could fly,
+    And his bosom brimfull of good wishes.
+
+  He wished the poor Herrings no harm, he said,
+   Though there seemed to be cause for suspicion;
+  His government wished to convert them, instead,
+    And this was the end of his mission.
+
+  The Herrings replied, and were civil enough,
+    Though a little inclined to be witty:
+  "We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough,
+    And are greatly obliged for your pity.
+
+  "But your plan of conversion we beg to decline,
+    With all due respect for your nation;
+  No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine,
+    Yet we fear it would check respiration."
+
+  The Heron returned to his peers in disdain,
+    And told how their love was requited.
+  "Poor creatures!" they said, "shall we let them remain
+   So ignorant, blind, and benighted?"
+
+  Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will
+    The Herons in council decided;
+  And they flew, every one that could boast a long bill,
+    To the beach where the Herrings resided.
+
+  So the tribe were soon converts from ocean to air,
+    Though liking not much the diversion,
+  And wishing at least they had time to prepare
+    For so novel a mode of conversion.
+
+  A sensible child will discover with ease
+    The point of the tale I've related--
+  A blockhead could not, let me say what I please--
+    Then why need my MORAL be stated?
+
+
+
+
+                           EARLY SPRING FLOWERS.
+
+
+Of all the amusements of my childhood, I can think of none which I loved so
+much as rambling in the woods and meadows among the flowers. What a rich
+treat it used to be, just after the earth had thrown aside its white
+mantle, and begun to be clothed in its summer dress, to get permission to
+spend a whole Saturday afternoon in the woods with my brother and sister.
+Oh, how delighted we all were, when we found the first wild flowers of
+spring! Let me see. What flowers show their pretty faces the earliest? Do
+you remember, young friend? Perhaps you have always lived in the city, and
+have never made their acquaintance. But if you have ever seen them,
+blushing in their native haunts, I am sure you must remember how they look,
+and what their names are. I cannot see how any body can forget them, they
+are so beautiful and lovely.
+
+One of the earliest flowers of spring, and one which grew in the woods only
+a few rods from my father's door, near the stream that turned my miniature
+water-wheels, is the _Trailing Arbutus_. Often you may find this plant
+unfolding its delicate blossoms before the snow has left the ground. That,
+in our northern latitudes, is usually among the first flowers in blossom.
+Soon after she appears, you may see one and perhaps two different species
+of the _Anemone_. One, especially--the _Anemone Thalictroides_,
+as it used to be called in botany, though it is now the _Thalictrum
+Anemonoides_, I believe--is among the fairest of all these flowers of
+spring. She has a blossom as white as snow. The _Anemone Nemrosa_ is
+almost as fair, too, though not quite, I think. You can sometimes see them
+both smiling side by side, early in the month of May, nodding gracefully at
+each other, and smiling as if they were very happy. It does not require
+much imagination to fancy they are conversing together; and, indeed, I
+would quite as soon believe that flowers could talk, as I would believe
+those stories about the fairies that children hear sometimes.
+
+There is another beautiful flower which makes her appearance very
+early--the _Spring Beauty_, or _Claytonia Virginica_. She is
+usually found in the same locations with the Anemone. Then there is the
+_Liver Leaf_. Did you ever find that, little girl? Very possibly you
+have not taken a ramble early enough in the spring to see her. She makes
+her visit frequently in the latter part of April, and she does not stay
+long. But after her flower has faded and fallen, there may be seen a few
+deeply notched and curious leaves, to mark the spot where she bloomed so
+sweetly.
+
+The _Blood Root_, too, will make her visit, and go away again, if you
+delay your ramble in the woods till the first of May. The blossom of the
+Blood Root is a very delicate white. Hundreds of exotic flowers are
+cultivated in our gardens, and very much admired, that are not half so
+pretty as this. The leaves that appear before the plant is in blossom, are
+oval, a little like those of the Adder's Tongue, which is in flower
+somewhat later, and like those of one species of the Solomon's Seal--the
+_Convallaria Bifolia_. But when the flower of the Blood Root appears,
+you see quite a different kind of leaf, so that even close observers of
+wild flowers are sometimes deceived, and think that their early leaves
+belong to some other plant.
+
+Every body who has been at all familiar with the forest and meadows in the
+spring, knows the _Violet_. There are a good many sisters in this
+charming family, but none, perhaps, in our latitude, that are more
+beautiful than the _Viola Rotundifolia,_ or Yellow Violet, with
+roundish leaves, lying close to the ground. The Blue Violet, too, appears
+soon after, and is perhaps equally pretty. I recollect distinctly where it
+used to grow near the little brook that ran through our meadow--a brook
+that many a time has served to turn my water-wheel. Oh, those days of
+miniature water-wheels, and kites, and wind-mills! how happy they were, and
+how I love to think of them now! By the way, have you ever read Miss
+Gould's poetical fable about the little child and the Blue Violet? I must
+recite a stanza or two of this poem, I think. The child speaks to the
+Violet, and says,
+
+  "Violet, violet, sparkling with dew,
+  Down in the meadow land, wild where you grew,
+  How did you come by the beautiful blue
+      With which your soft petals unfold?
+  And how do you hold up your tender young head,
+  Where rude, sweeping winds rush along o'er your bed,
+  And dark, gloomy clouds, ranging over you, shed
+      Their waters, so heavy and cold?
+
+  "No one has nursed you, or watched you an hour,
+  Or found you a place in the garden or bower;
+  And they cannot yield me so lovely a flower,
+      As here I have found at my feet!
+
+  "Speak, my sweet violet, answer and tell,
+  How you have grown up and flourished so well,
+  And look so contented, where lonely you dwell,
+       And we thus by accident meet?"
+
+Then the Violet answers, and tells the child why it is so contented, and
+how it is able to hold up its head, and where its pretty blue petals come
+from. But I will not recite the remainder of the poem, for I am sure my
+readers do not need to be told who made the flowers, and who taught them to
+bloom so sweetly in their wild haunts.
+
+The early flowers of spring! I loved them fondly when a child; but now I am
+a man, I love them still more. Shall I tell you why, dear child? There is
+something sad in the reason, and yet it is not all sadness. I had a
+sister--I _had_ a sister. Ah! that tells the tale. I have no sister
+now! The dearest companion of my early rambles among the flowers--herself
+the fairest and sweetest of them all--has fallen before the scythe of
+Death. She has gone now to a world of perpetual spring, and the flowers she
+loved so well are blooming over her grave. She faded away in the early
+spring, and we laid her to rest where her mother had long been sleeping. By
+the side of the streamlet where we used to play in the sunny days of
+childhood, and where the Dandelion grew, and the Butter-cup, and the
+Violet--there is now the form of her I tenderly loved.
+
+But my strain is sad--too sad. I will sing, and be cheerful.
+
+      Alas! how soon
+  The things of earth we love most fondly perish!
+  Why died the flower our hearts had learned to cherish?
+      Why, ere 'twas noon?
+
+      I cannot tell--
+  But though the grave be that loved sister's dwelling,
+  And though my heart e'en now with grief is swelling,
+      I know 'tis well.
+
+      'Tis well with the--
+  'Tis well with thee, thou lone and silent sleeper!
+  'Tis well, though thou hast left me here a weeper
+      Awhile to be.
+
+      'Tis well for me--
+  'Tis well; my home, since thou art gone, is dearer--
+  The grave is welcome, if it bring me nearer
+      To heaven and thee.
+
+      I'll not repine--
+  No, blest one; thou art happier than thy brother:
+  I'll think of thee, as with thy angel-mother,
+      Sweet sister mine.
+
+      Still would I share
+  Thy love, and meet thee where the flowers are springing,
+  Where the wild bird his joyous note is singing--
+      Come to me there.
+
+      Oh! come again,
+  At the still hour, the holy hour of even,
+  Ere one pale star has gemmed the vault of heaven;
+      Come to me then.
+
+
+
+
+                         TEMPTATION RESISTED.
+
+
+Charles Murray left home, with his books in his satchel, for school. Before
+starting, he kissed his little sister, and patted Juno on the head, and as
+he went singing away, he felt as happy as any little boy could wish to
+feel. Charles was a good-tempered lad, but he had the fault common to a
+great many boys, that of being tempted and enticed by others to do things
+which he knew to be contrary to the wishes of his parents. Such acts never
+made him feel any happier; for the fear that his disobedience would be
+found out, and the consciousness of having done wrong, were far from being
+pleasant companions.
+
+On the present occasion, as he walked briskly in the direction of the
+school, he repeated over his lessons in his mind, and was intent upon
+having them so perfect as to be able to repeat every word. He had gone
+nearly half the distance, and was still thinking over his lessons, when he
+stopped suddenly, as a voice called out,
+
+"Halloo, Charley!"
+
+Turning in the direction from which the voice came, he saw Archy Benton,
+with his school basket in his hand; but he was going from, instead of in
+the direction of the school.
+
+"Where are you going, Archy?" asked Charles, calling out to him.
+
+"Into the woods, for chestnuts."
+
+"Ain't you going to school, to-day?"
+
+"No, indeed. There was a sharp frost last night, and Uncle John says the
+wind will rattle down the chestnuts like hail."
+
+"Did your father say you might go?"
+
+"No, indeed. I asked him, but he said I couldn't go until Saturday. But the
+hogs are in the woods, and will eat the chestnuts all up, before Saturday.
+So I am going to-day. Come, go along, won't you? It is such a fine day, and
+the ground will be covered with chestnuts. We can get home at the usual
+time, and no one will suspect that we were not at school."
+
+"I should like to go, very well," said Charley; "but I know father will be
+greatly displeased, if he finds it out, and I am afraid he will get to know
+it, in some way."
+
+"How could he get to know it? Isn't he at his store all the time?"
+
+"But he might think to ask me if I was at school. And I never will tell a
+lie."
+
+"You could say yes, and not tell a lie, either," returned Archy. "You were
+at school yesterday."
+
+"No, I couldn't. A lie, father says, is in the intent to deceive. He would,
+of course, mean to ask whether I was at school to-day, and if I said yes, I
+would tell a lie."
+
+"It isn't so clear to me that you would. At any rate, I don't see such
+great harm in a little fib. It doesn't hurt any body."
+
+"Father says a falsehood hurts a boy a great deal more than he thinks for.
+And one day he showed me in the Bible where liars were classed with
+murderers, and other wicked spirits, in hell. I can't tell a lie, Archy."
+
+"There won't be any need of your doing so," urged Archy; "for I am sure he
+will never think to ask you about it. Why should he?"
+
+"I don't know. But whenever I have been doing any thing wrong, he is sure
+to begin to question me, and lead me on until I betray the secret of my
+fault."
+
+"Never mind. Come and go with me. It is such a fine day. We shan't have
+another like it. It will rain on Saturday, I'll bet any thing. So come
+along, now, and let us have a day in the woods, while we can."
+
+Charles was very strongly tempted. When he thought of the confinement of
+school, and then of the freedom of a day in the woods, he felt much
+inclined to go with Archy.
+
+"Come along," said Archy, as Charles stood balancing the matter in his
+mind. And he took hold of his arm, and drew him in a direction opposite
+from the school. "Come! you are just the boy I want. I was thinking about
+you the moment before I saw you."
+
+The temptation to Charles was very strong. "I don't believe I will be found
+out," he said to himself; "and it is such a pleasant day to go into the
+woods!"
+
+Still he held back, and thought of his father's displeasure if he should
+discover that he had played the truant. The word "truant," that he repeated
+mentally, decided the matter in his mind, and he exclaimed, in a loud and
+decided voice, as he dragged away from the hand of Archy, that had still
+retained its hold on his arm, "I've never played truant yet, and I don't
+think I ever will. Father says he never played truant when he was a boy;
+and I'd like to say the same thing when I get to be a man."
+
+"Nonsense, Charley! come, go with me," urged Archy.
+
+But Charles Murray's mind was made up not to play the truant. So he started
+off for school, saying, as he did so--
+
+"No, I can't go, Archy; and if I were you, I would wait until Saturday. You
+will enjoy it so much better when you have your fathers consent. It always
+takes away more than half the pleasure of any enjoyment to think that it is
+obtained at the cost of disobedience. Come! go to school with me now, and I
+will go into the woods with you on Saturday."
+
+"No, I can't wait until Saturday. I'm sure it will rain by that time; and
+if it don't, the hogs will eat up every nut that has fallen before that
+time."
+
+"There'll be plenty left on the trees, if they do. It's as fine sport to
+knock them down as to pick them up."
+
+But Archy's purpose was settled, and nothing that Charles Murray could say
+had any influence with him. So the boys parted, the one for his school, and
+the other for a stolen holiday in the woods.
+
+The moment Charles was alone again, he felt no longer any desire to go with
+Archy. He had successfully resisted the temptation, and the allurement was
+gone. But even for listening to temptation he had some small punishment,
+for he was late to school by nearly ten minutes, and had not his lessons as
+perfect as usual, for which the teacher felt called upon to reprimand him.
+But this was soon forgotten; and he was so good a boy through the whole
+day, and studied all his lessons so diligently, that when evening came, the
+teacher, who had not forgotten the reprimand, said to him:
+
+"You have been the best boy in the school to-day, Charles. To-morrow
+morning try and come in time, and be sure that your lessons are all well
+committed to memory."
+
+Charles felt very light and cheerful as he went running, skipping, and
+singing homeward. His day had been well spent, and happiness was his
+reward. When he came in sight of home, there was no dread of meeting his
+father and mother, such as he would have felt if he had played the truant.
+Every thing looked bright and pleasant, and when Juno came bounding out to
+meet him, he couldn't help hugging the favorite dog in the joy he felt at
+seeing her.
+
+When Charles met his mother, she looked at him with a more earnest and
+affectionate gaze than usual. And then the boy noticed that her countenance
+became serious.
+
+"Ain't you well, mother?" asked Charles.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I am very well," she replied; "but I saw something an hour
+ago which has made me feel sad. Archy Benton was brought home from the
+woods this afternoon, where he had gone for chestnuts, instead of going to
+school, as he should have done, dreadfully hurt. He had fallen from a tree.
+Both his arms are broken, and the doctor fears that he has received some
+inward injury that may cause his death."
+
+Charles turned pale, when his mother said this.
+
+"Boys rarely get hurt, except when they are acting disobediently, or doing
+some harm to others," remarked Mrs Murray. "If Archy had gone to school,
+this dreadful accident would not have happened. His father told him that he
+might go for chestnuts on Saturday, and if he had waited until then, I am
+sure he might have gone into the woods and received no harm, for all who do
+right are protected from evil."
+
+"He tried to persuade me to go with him," said Charles, "and I was strongly
+tempted to do so. But I resisted the temptation, and have felt glad about
+it ever since."
+
+Mrs Murray took her son's hand, and pressing it hard, said, with much
+feeling,
+
+"How rejoiced I am that you were able to resist his persuasions to do
+wrong. Even if you had not been hurt yourself, the injury received by Archy
+would have discovered to us that you were with him, and then how unhappy
+your father and I would have been I cannot tell. And you would have been
+unhappy, too. Ah! my son, there is only one true course for all of us, and
+that is, to do right. Every deviation from this path brings trouble. An act
+of a moment may make us wretched for days, weeks, months, or perhaps years.
+It will be a long, long time before Archy is free from pain of body or
+mind--it may be that he will never recover. Think how miserable his parents
+must feel; and all because of this single act of disobedience."
+
+We cannot say how often Charles said to himself, that evening and the next
+day, when he thought of Archy, "Oh, how glad I am that I did not go with
+him!"
+
+When Saturday came, the father and mother of Charles Murray gave him
+permission to go into the woods for chestnuts. Two or three other boys, who
+were his school companions, likewise received liberty to go; and they
+joined Charles, and altogether made a pleasant party. It did not rain, nor
+had the hogs eaten up all the nuts, for the lads found plenty under the
+tall old trees, and in a few hours filled their bags and baskets. Charles
+said, when he came home, that he had never enjoyed himself better, and was
+so glad that he had not been tempted to go with Archy Benton.
+
+It was a lesson he never afterward forgot. If he was tempted to do what he
+knew was wrong, he thought of Archy's day in the woods, and the tempter
+instantly left him. The boy who had been so badly hurt, did not die, as the
+doctor feared; but he suffered great pain, and was ill for a long time.
+
+
+
+
+                            EVENING PRAYER.
+
+
+  Heavenly Father! Through the day,
+  Have we wandered from thy way?
+  Have our thoughts to error turned?
+  Has within us evil burned?
+
+  Heavenly Father! Oh, remove
+  Evil thoughts and evil love!
+  Give us truth our minds to fill;
+  Give us strength to do thy will.
+
+  Often we are led astray
+  From the true and righteous way;
+  But, we humbly pray to thee,
+  From the tempter keep us free.
+
+  Heavenly Father! While we sleep,
+  Angel watchers round us keep.
+  When the morning breaks, may we,
+  Better, wiser children be.
+
+
+
+
+                         STRETCHING THE TRUTH.
+
+
+It is a very bad habit, this stretching the truth, as one does a piece of
+India rubber; and the worst of it is, that when any body forms the habit,
+there is no telling how much it will grow upon him.
+
+There is Jack Weaver, for instance. He is a sailor all over, to be sure--an
+"old salt," as he would call himself. But that does not confer upon him any
+license to spin such yarns as he does, to his young shipmates on the
+forward deck. He has cruised half a dozen years after whales, in the
+Pacific ocean, and, of course, has seen some sights that are worth speaking
+of. But that is no reason why he should fill the head of that young fellow
+sitting on a coil of rope with a hundred cock-and-bull stories, that have
+scarcely a word of truth in them, from beginning to end. Why, he don't
+pretend to tell stories without stretching the truth.
+
+I know some boys, too, who seem to find it very difficult to relate any
+incident as it took place. They are so much in the habit of stretching the
+truth, in fact, that those who are acquainted with them seldom believe more
+than half of one of their stories. These boys, however, have not the
+slightest intention, when they are pulling out a foot into a yard, of doing
+any thing wrong. Very possibly they think they are telling a pretty
+straight story. Habits are strong, you know--especially bad habits. Just
+look at Selden Mason, one of the best-natured boys I ever saw, and who has
+not got an enemy among all his school-mates; it is wonderful what a
+truth-stretcher he has got to be. Every boy shakes his head, when he hears
+a great story, and says it sounds like one of Selden's yarns. And yet be is
+so particular and minute in relating any thing, sometimes, that one who did
+not know him would not suspect him of treating the truth so badly. His
+apparent sincerity reminds me of an anecdote related of another boy, who
+had this habit worse than Selden has, I should think. The boy remarked that
+his father once killed ninety-nine crows at a single shot! He was asked why
+he did not say a hundred, and have done with it. The fellow was indignant.
+"Do you think I would tell a lie for one crow?" said he!
+
+Selden Mason's habit of truth-stretching has got such a hold of him now,
+that you can perceive the marks of it in almost every thing he says. I have
+sometimes been half sorry he was so good a boy in other respects; for, as
+his companions like him pretty well, there is the more danger that they
+will catch the habit of him, before they are aware of it. His teacher was
+once asked what he thought of Selden, on the whole. "I can't help being
+pleased with the fellow," said he; "he is a good scholar, and very
+obedient; but I should like him a great deal better if he didn't tell such
+monstrous stories. He is like a book all printed in italic letters, with an
+exclamation point at the end of every sentence." Selden has often gone by
+the name of the "Exclamation Point," since that time.
+
+Poor fellow! I wish he had tried to break himself of that habit, before it
+became so deeply rooted. I am afraid it will stick to him as long as he
+lives now; and if it does, he will get a very bad character as a man of
+business. Scarcely any reliance can be placed upon his word. No matter how
+careful he may be to state a thing exactly as it is, in his business
+matters, if he keeps up this general habit, people will say, "Oh! that's
+nothing but one of Mason's italic stories!"
+
+Look out, my boy! It wouldn't be the strangest thing in the world, if you
+had got into a habit something like this of Selden's, though it may not yet
+be half so strong. But keep a sharp look-out, at any rate. Take care that
+you never stretch the truth.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE CITY PIGEON.
+
+
+With all is the beautiful lingerer in our crowded cities a favorite. All
+love this gentle bird, that, shunning the cool and quiet woods, stays with
+man in the hot and noisy town, and, amid strife and the war of passions,
+passes ever before him a living emblem of peace. "It is no light chance,"
+says Willis, in his exquisite lines "To a City Pigeon,"
+
+[Illustration: THE CITY PIGEON.]
+
+  "It is no light chance. Thou art set apart
+  Wisely by Him who has tamed the heart,
+  To stir the love for the bright and fair,
+  That else were sealed in this crowded air;
+      I sometimes dream
+  Angelic rays from thy pinions gleam."
+
+In these same lines, how truly and how sweetly has he said:
+
+  "A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!
+  Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word!
+  Thou'rt linked with all that's fresh and wild,
+  In the prison'd thoughts of a city child;
+      And thy glossy wings
+  Are its brightest image of moving things."
+
+In the language of the same poet, how often have we said, as we looked
+forth upon the gentle bird:
+
+  "Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove;
+  Thy daily visits have touched my love.
+  I watch thy coming, and list the note
+  That stirs so low in thy mellow throat;
+      And my joy is high
+  To catch the glance of thy gentle eye."
+
+In his lines to "The Belfry Pigeon," Mr Willis has expressed most
+truthfully the feelings and thoughts which all have had for this gentle
+creature, which,
+
+      "Alone of the feathered race,
+  Doth look unscared on the human face."
+
+As we know of nothing on the subject more appropriate and beautiful than
+the address referred to, we will copy it for our young readers.
+
+
+
+
+                          THE BELFRY PIGEON.
+
+
+  "On the cross beam under the Old South Bell,
+  The nest of a pigeon is builded well.
+  In summer and winter that bird is there,
+  Out and in with the morning air.
+  I love to see him track the street,
+  With his wary eye and active feet;
+  And I often watch him as he springs,
+  Circling the steeples with easy wings,
+  Till across the dial his shade has pass'd,
+  And the belfry edge is gained at last.
+  'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note,
+  And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;
+  There's a human look in its swelling breast,
+  And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;
+  And I often stop with the fear I feel--
+  He runs so close to the rapid wheel.
+
+  "Whatever is rung on that noisy bell--
+  Chime of the hour or funeral knell--
+  The dove in the belfry must hear it well.
+  When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon--
+  When the sexton cheerily rings for noon--
+  When the clock strikes clear at morning light--
+  When the child is waked with 'nine at night'--
+  When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,
+  Filling the spirit with love of prayer--
+  Whatever tale in the bell is heard,
+  He broods on his folded feet unstirr'd,
+  Or, rising half in his rounded nest,
+  He takes the time to smooth his breast,
+  Then drops again with filmed eyes,
+  And sleeps as the last vibration dies.
+
+  "Sweet bird! I would that I could be
+  A hermit in the crowd like thee!
+  With wings to fly to wood and glen.
+  Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men,
+  And daily, with unwilling feet,
+  I tread, like thee, the crowded street;
+  But, unlike me, when day is o'er,
+  Thou canst dismiss the world and soar;
+  Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,
+  Canst smooth the feathers on thy breast,
+  And drop, forgetful, to thy nest."
+
+
+
+
+                          A DAY IN THE WOODS.
+
+
+"School!" said Richard White, to himself; "School! I don't want to go to
+school. Why am I sent to school every day? What good is there in learning
+grammar, and arithmetic, and geography, and all them things? I don't like
+school, and I never did."
+
+"Dick!" called out a voice; and the lad, who had seated himself on a cellar
+door, and placed his satchel beside him, looked up, and met the cheerful
+face of one of his school-fellows.
+
+"What are you sitting there for, Dick? Don't you hear the school bell?"
+
+"Yes; I hear it, Bill."
+
+"Then get up and come along, or you will be late."
+
+"I don't care if I am. I don't like to go to school."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No, indeed. I'd never go to school if I could help it. What's the use of
+so much learning? I'm going to a trade as soon as I get old enough; and
+Pete Elder says that a boy who don't know A B C, can learn a trade just as
+well as one who does."
+
+"I don't know any thing about that," replied William Brown; "but father
+says, the more learning I get when a boy, the more successful in life will
+I be when a man; that is, if I make a good use of my learning."
+
+"What good is grammar going to do a mechanic, I wonder?" said Richard,
+contemptuously. "What use will the double rule of three, or fractions, be
+to him?"
+
+"They may be of a great deal of use. Father says we cannot learn too much
+while we are boys. He says he never learned any thing in his life that did
+not come of use to him at some time or other."
+
+"Grammar, and geography, and double rule of three, will never be of any use
+to me."
+
+"Oh, yes, they will, Dick! So come along. The bell is nearly done ringing.
+Come, won't you?"
+
+"No; I'm going out to the woods,"
+
+"Come, Richard, come! That will be playing truant."
+
+"No; I've made my mind up not to go to school to-day."
+
+"You'll be sorry for it, Dick, if you do stay away from school."
+
+"Why will I?" said the boy, quickly. "Are you going to tell?"
+
+"If I should be asked about you, I will not tell a lie; but I don't suppose
+any one will inquire of me."
+
+"Then why will I be sorry?"
+
+"You'll be sorry when you're a man."
+
+Richard White laughed aloud at the idea of his being sorry when he became a
+man, for having neglected his school when a boy.
+
+"If you are not going, I am," said William Brown, starting off and running
+as fast as he could. He arrived at the door of the schoolhouse just as the
+bell stopped ringing. In stopping to persuade Richard not to play truant,
+he had come near being too late.
+
+As soon as William left him, Richard White got up from the cellar door
+where he had been reclining lazily, and throwing his satchel over his
+shoulder, started for the woods. His books and satchel were in his way, and
+rather heavy to carry about with him for six or seven hours. But he did not
+think it prudent to leave them any where, for the person with whom they
+were left would suspect him of playing truant, and through that means his
+fault might come to the knowledge of his parents.
+
+After thinking over this, as he went on his way, it occurred to Richard
+that the satchel was as likely to betray him if carried along as if left at
+some store to be called for on his return. Finally, he concluded to ask for
+a newspaper at a shop.
+
+With this he wrapped up his satchel, and taking it under his arm, went on
+without any more fears of betrayal from this source.
+
+As soon as the foolish boy reached the woods, he hid his satchel, so as to
+get clear of the trouble it was to him, beside a large stone, and covered
+it with leaves and long grass. Then he felt free, and, as he thought,
+happy.
+
+But it was not long before he got tired of rambling about alone. He
+listened, sometimes, to the birds, and sometimes tried, with stones, to
+kill the beautiful and innocent creatures. Then he thought how pleasant it
+would be to find a nest, and carry off the young ones; and he searched with
+great diligence for a long time, but could find no nest.
+
+Once a little striped squirrel glided past him, and mounted a high tree. As
+it ran around and around the great trunk, appearing and disappearing at
+intervals, Richard tried to knock it off with stones. But his aim was not
+very true. Instead of hitting the squirrel, he managed to get a severe blow
+himself; for a stone which he threw very high, struck a large limb, and,
+bouncing back, fell upon his upturned face, and cut him badly.
+
+From that moment, all the pleasure he had felt since entering the woods was
+gone. The blood stained his shirt bosom, and covered his hand when he put
+it up to his face. Of course, the wound, and the blood upon his shirt,
+would betray him. This was his first thought, as he washed himself at a
+small stream. But, then, all at once it occurred to him--for evil
+suggestions are sure to be made to us when we are in the way to receive
+them--that it would be just as easy to say that a boy threw a stone, which
+struck him as he was walking along the street, as to say that he got hurt
+while in the woods. And, without stopping to think how wicked it would be
+to tell a lie, Richard determined to make this statement when he got home.
+
+The smarting of the wound, and the uneasiness occasioned by a sight of the
+blood, so disturbed Richard's feelings, that he was unable to regain enough
+composure of mind to enjoy his day of freedom in the woods. By twelve
+o'clock, he was tired and hungry, and heartily wished himself at home. But
+it would not do to go now; for if he were to do so, his father would
+understand that he had not been to school. There was no alternative for him
+but to remain out in the lonely woods, without any thing to eat, for five
+hours longer. And a weary time it was for him.
+
+At last the sun, which had been for a very long time, it seemed to him,
+descending toward the western horizon, sunk so low that he was sure it must
+be after five o'clock, and then, with sober feelings, he started for home.
+The day had disappointed him. He was far from feeling happy. When he
+thought of the wound on his face and the blood upon his bosom, he felt
+troubled. If he told the truth, he knew he would be punished, and if he
+told a lie, and was found out, punishment would as certainly follow.
+
+These were his thoughts and feelings when he came to the place where he had
+concealed his satchel. But, lo! his books were gone. Some one had
+discovered and carried them off.
+
+Sadly enough, now, did Richard White return home. We will not pain our
+young readers with an account of his reception. The father already knew
+that his son had not been to school, for a man had found the satchel in the
+woods. Richard's name was on it, and this led the man to bring it to his
+father, with whom he was acquainted.
+
+Richard never went to school again. On the very next week, he was sent to
+learn a trade, and he soon found that there was a great difference between
+a school-boy and an apprentice.
+
+William Brown continued to go to school two years longer, when he also went
+from home to learn a trade. He was then a good scholar, and had a fondness
+for books. Because he was learning a trade, he did not give up all other
+kinds of learning, but, whenever he had leisure, he applied himself to his
+books. Both he and Richard were free about the same time. Richard had
+learned his trade well, and was as good a workman as William; but he had
+not improved his mind. He had not been able to see the use that learning
+was going to be to a mechanic.
+
+Fifteen years have passed since these two lads completed their terms of
+apprenticeship, and entered the world as men; and how do they now stand?
+Why, William Brown has a large manufactory of his own, and Richard White is
+one of his workmen. By his superior intelligence and enterprise, the former
+is able to serve the public interests by giving direction to the labors of
+a hundred men, and his reward is in proportion to the service he thus
+renders; while the latter serves the public interest to the extent of only
+one man's labors, and his reward is in exact ratio thereto.
+
+Did Richard White gain any thing by his day in the woods? We think not. Is
+there any use in education to a mechanic? Let each of our young readers
+answer the question for himself.
+
+
+
+
+                    THE SPIDER AND THE HONEY-BEE.
+         A FABLE FOR MANY IN GENERAL AND SOME IN PARTICULAR.
+
+
+I.
+
+  A bee who had chased after pleasure all day,
+  And homeward was lazily wending his way,
+  Fell in with a Spider, who called to the Bee:
+  "Good evening! I trust you are well," said he.
+
+II.
+
+  The bee was quite happy to stop awhile there--
+  For indolence always has moments to spare--
+  "Good evening!" he said, with a very low bow,
+  "My health, sir, alas! 'tis quite delicate now.
+
+III.
+
+  "From spring until autumn, from morning till night,
+  I'm obliged to be toiling with all my might;
+  My labors are wearing me out, and you know
+  I might as well starve, as to kill myself so."
+
+IV.
+
+  The Spider pretended to pity the Bee--
+  For a cunning old hypocrite Spider was he--
+  "I'm sorry to see you so ill," he said;
+  And he whispered his wife, "He will have to be bled."
+
+[Illustration: THE BEE OUTSIDE THE WEB.]
+
+V.
+
+  "Some people--perhaps they are wiser than I--
+  Some people are in a great hurry to die;
+  Excuse me, but candor compels me to say,
+  'Tis wrong to be throwing one's life away.
+
+VI.
+
+  "Your industry, sir, it may do very well
+  For the beaver's rude hut, or the honey-bee's cell;
+  But it never would suit a gay fellow like me;
+  I love to be idle--I love to be free.
+
+VII.
+
+  "This hoarding of riches--this wasting of time,
+  In robbing the gardens and fields--'tis a crime!
+  And then to be guilty of suicide, too!
+  I tremble to think what a miser will do."
+
+VIII.
+
+  'Tis strange the poor Bee was so stupid and blind.
+  "Mister Spider," said he, "you have spoken my mind;
+  There's something within me that seems to say,
+  I have toiled long enough, and 'tis better to play.
+
+IX.
+  "But how in the world shall I manage to live?
+  I might beg all my life, and nobody would give.
+  'Tis easy enough to be merry and sing,
+  But living on air is a different thing."
+
+X.
+
+  The Spider was silent, and looked very grave--
+  'Twas a habit he had--the scheming old knave!
+  No Spider, intent on his labor of love,
+  Had more of the serpent, or less of the dove.
+
+XI.
+
+  "To serve you would give me great pleasure," said he;
+  "Come into my palace, and tarry with me;
+  The Spider knows nothing of labor and care.
+  Come, you shall be welcome our bounty to share.
+
+XII.
+
+  "I live like a king, and my wife like a queen,
+  In meadows where flowers are blooming and green;
+  'Tis sweet on the violet's bosom to lie,
+  And list to the stream that runs merrily by.
+
+XIII.
+
+  "With us you shall mingle in scenes of delight,
+  All summer and winter, from morning till night;
+  And when 'neath the hills the sun sinks in the west,
+  Your head on a pillow of roses shall rest.
+
+XIV.
+
+  "When miserly Bees shall return from their toils,
+  We'll catch them, and tie them, and feast on the spoils;
+  I'll lighten their burdens--I ought to know how--
+  My pantry is full of such gentlemen now."
+
+XV.
+
+  The Bee did not wait to be urged any more,
+  But nodded his thanks, as he entered the door.
+  "Aha!" said the Spider, "I have you at last."
+  And he caught the poor urchin, and wound him up fast.
+
+XVI.
+
+  The Bee, when aware of his perilous fate,
+  Recovered his wit, though a moment too late.
+  "O treacherous Spider! for shame!" said he,
+  "Is it thus you betray a poor, innocent Bee?"
+
+XVII.
+
+  The cunning old Spider then laughed outright;
+  "Poor fellow!" he said, "you are in a sad plight!
+  Ha! ha! what a dunce you must be to suppose,
+  That the heart of a Spider should pity your woes!
+
+[Illustration: THE BEE INSIDE THE WEB.]
+
+XVIII.
+
+  "I never could boast of much honor or shame,
+  Though a little acquainted with both by name;
+  But I think if the Bees can a brother betray,
+  We Spiders are quite as good people as they.
+
+XIX.
+
+  "On the whole, you have lived long enough, I opine;
+  So now, by your leave, I will hasten to dine;
+  You'll make a good dinner, it must be confess'd,
+  And the world, I am thinking, will pardon the rest."
+
+XX.
+
+  This lesson for every one, little and great,
+  Is taught in that vagabond's tragical fate:
+  _Of him who is scheming your friend to ensnare_,
+  _Unless you've a passion for Heeding, beware!_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                       EMMA LEE AND HER SIXPENCE.
+
+
+Emma's aunt had given her a sixpence, and now the question was, what should
+she buy with it? "I'll you what I will do, mother," she said, changing her
+mind for the tenth time.
+
+"Well, dear, what have you determined upon now?"
+
+"I'll save my sixpence until I get a good many more, and then I'll buy me a
+handsome wax doll. Wouldn't you do that, mother, if you were me?"
+
+"If I were you, I suppose I would do just as you will," replied Emma's
+mother, smiling.
+
+"But, mother, don't you think that would be a nice way to do? I get a good
+many pennies and sixpences, you know, and could soon save enough to buy me
+a beautiful wax doll."
+
+"I think it would be better," said Mrs Lee, "for you to save up your money
+and buy something worth having."
+
+"Isn't a large wax doll worth having?"
+
+"Oh, yes! for a little girl like you."
+
+"Then I'll save up my money, until I get enough to buy me a doll as big as
+Sarah Johnson's."
+
+In about an hour afterward, Emma came to her mother, and said--
+
+"I've just thought what I will do with my sixpence. I saw such a beautiful
+book at a store, yesterday! It was full of pictures, and the price was just
+sixpence. I'll buy that book."
+
+"But didn't you say, a little while ago, that you were going to save your
+money until you had enough to buy a doll?"
+
+"I know I did, mother; but I didn't think about the book then. And it will
+take so long before I can save up money enough to get a new doll. I think I
+will buy the book."
+
+"Very well, dear," replied Mrs Lee.
+
+Not long after, Emma changed her mind again.
+
+On the next day, her mother said to her--
+
+"Your Aunt Mary is quite sick, and I am going to see her. Do you wish to go
+with me?"
+
+"Yes, mother, I should like to go. I am so sorry that Aunt Mary is sick.
+What ails her?"
+
+"She is never very well, and the least cold makes her sick. The last time
+she was here she took cold."
+
+As they were about leaving the house, Emma said--
+
+"I'll take my sixpence along, and spend it, mother."
+
+"What are you going to buy?" asked Mrs Lee.
+
+"I don't know," replied Emma. "Sometimes I think I will buy some cakes; and
+then I think I will get a whole sixpence worth of cream candy, I like it
+so."
+
+"Have you forgotten the book?"
+
+"Oh, no! Sometimes I think I will buy the book. Indeed, I don't know what
+to buy."
+
+In this undecided state of mind, Emma started with her mother to see her
+aunt. They had not gone far before they met a poor woman, with some very
+pretty bunches of flowers for sale. She carried them on a tray. She stopped
+before Mrs Lee and her little girl, and asked if they would not buy some
+flowers.
+
+"How much are they a bunch?" asked Emma.
+
+"Sixpence," replied the woman.
+
+"Mother! I'll tell you what I will do with my sixpence," said Emma, her
+face brightening with the thought that came into her mind. "I will buy a
+bunch of flowers for Aunt Mary. You know how she loves flowers. Can't I do
+it, mother?"
+
+"Oh, yes, dear! Do it, by all means, if you think you can give up the nice
+cream candy, or the picture book, for the sake of gratifying your aunt."
+
+Emma did not hesitate a moment, but selected a very handsome bunch of
+flowers, and paid her sixpence to the woman with a feeling of real
+pleasure.
+
+Aunt Mary was very much pleased with the bouquet Emma brought her.
+
+"The sight of these flowers, and their delightful perfume, really makes me
+feel better," she said, after she had held them in her hand for a little
+while; "I am very much obliged to my niece, for thinking of me."
+
+That evening, Emma looked up from a book which her mother had bought her as
+they returned home from Aunt Mary's, and with which she had been much
+entertained, and said--
+
+"I think the spending of my sixpence gave me a double pleasure."
+
+"How so, dear?" asked Mrs Lee.
+
+"I made aunt happy, and the flower woman too. Didn't you notice how pleased
+the flower woman looked? I wouldn't wonder if she had little children at
+home, and thought about the bread that sixpence would buy them when I paid
+it to her. Don't you think she did?"
+
+"I cannot tell that, Emma," replied her mother; "but I shouldn't at all
+wonder if it were as you suppose. And so it gives you pleasure to think you
+have made others happy?"
+
+"Indeed it does."
+
+"Acts of kindness," replied Emma's mother, "always produce a feeling of
+pleasure. This every one may know. And it is the purest and truest pleasure
+we experience in this world. Try and remember this little incident of the
+flowers as long as you live, my child; and let the thought of it remind you
+that every act of self-denial brings to the one who makes it a sweet
+delight."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        UNCLE RODERICK'S STORIES.
+
+
+Uncle Roderick was an old bachelor--as thorough going an old bachelor as
+any one need wish to see. Some folks said he had a great many droll whims
+in his head. I don't know how that was; but this I know, that he loved
+every body, and almost every body loved him. He had evidently seen better
+days, when, in my boyhood, I first made his acquaintance; or rather, he had
+been "better off in the world," as the phrase goes. Whether he had been
+happier, may admit of a question; for the wealthiest man is not always the
+happiest. There were marks about him which seemed to show that he had been
+higher on the wheel of fortune, and that the change in his condition had
+had a chastening effect--just as some fruits become mellower and better
+after being bruised a little and frost-bitten. He was a great lover of
+children, and withal an inveterate story-teller.
+
+His memory must have been pretty good, I think; for he would often tell
+stories to his little friends by the hour, about what happened to him when
+he was a boy. Some of these stories were funny enough; but the old
+gentleman usually managed to tack on some good moral to the end of them. By
+your leave, boys and girls, I will serve up two or three of these stories
+for an evening's entertainment. They will bear telling the second time, I
+guess, and I will repeat them, as nearly as my recollection will allow, in
+the good old bachelor's own words.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                STORY FIRST.
+                          HONESTY THE BEST POLICY.
+
+
+A person is, on the whole, a great deal better off to be honest. Dishonesty
+is a losing game. A wise man was once asked what one gained by not telling
+the truth. The reply was, "Not to be believed when he speaks the truth." He
+was right. There are a great many other respects, too, in which a dishonest
+person suffers by his dishonesty. I must tell you what a lie once cost me.
+I was about nine years old, perhaps. In justice to myself, I ought to say
+that I was not much addicted to this vice; but told a fib once in a great
+while, as I am afraid too many other little boys, pretty good on the whole,
+sometimes allow themselves to do. One very cool day in the spring of the
+year, my father, who was a farmer, was ploughing, and I was riding horse. I
+didn't relish the task very well, as I was rather cold, and old Silvertail
+was full of his mischief. It was a little more than I could do to manage
+him. Moreover, there was some rare sport going on at home.
+
+"Father," said I, after bearing the penance for the greater part of the
+forenoon, "how much longer must I stay in the field?"
+
+"About an hour," was the reply.
+
+An hour seemed a great while in the circumstances, and I ventured to say,
+"I wish I could go home now--my head aches."
+
+"I am very sorry," said my father; "but can't you stay till it is time to
+go home to dinner?"
+
+I thought not--my headache was getting to be pretty severe.
+
+"Well," said he, taking me off the horse, and no doubt suspecting that my
+disease was rather in my _heart_ than my head--a suspicion far too
+well-founded, I am sorry to say--"well, you may go home. I don't want you
+to work if you are sick. Go straight home, and tell your mother that I say
+you must take a good large dose of rhubarb. Tell her that I think it will
+do you a great deal of good!"
+
+There was no alternative. I went home, of course, and delivered the message
+to my mother. I told her, however, that I thought my head was better,
+hoping to avoid taking the nauseous medicine. But it was of no use. It was
+too late. She understood my case as well as my father did. She knew well
+enough my disease was laziness. So she prepared the rhubarb--an unusually
+generous dose, I always thought--and I had to swallow every morsel of it.
+Dear me! how bitter it was! It makes me sick to think of a dose of rhubarb,
+let me be ever so well. I am sure I would have rode horse all day--and all
+night, too, for that matter--rather than to have been doctored after that
+sort. But it cured my laziness pretty effectually, and it was a long time
+before I told another lie, too.
+
+"Honesty is the best policy," children, depend upon it, though there is
+another and a better reason, as you very well know, why you should always
+speak the truth.
+
+
+                              STORY SECOND.
+                  HOW A ROGUE FEELS WHEN HE IS CAUGHT.
+
+
+When I was a little boy, as near as I can recollect, about nine years of
+age, I went with my brother one bright Saturday afternoon, when there was
+no school, to visit at the house of Captain Perry. The captain was esteemed
+one of the kindest and best-natured neighbors in Willow Lane, where my
+father lived; and Julian, the captain's eldest son, very near my own age,
+was, among all the boys at school, my favorite play-fellow. Captain Perry
+had two bee-hives in his garden, where we were all three at play; and as I
+watched the busy little fellows at work bringing in honey from the fields,
+all at once I thought it would be a very fine thing to thrust a stick into
+a hole which I saw in one of the hives, and bring out some of the honey. My
+brother and Julian did not quite agree with me in this matter. They
+thought, as nearly as I can recollect, that there were three good reasons
+against this mode of obtaining honey: first, I should be likely to get
+pretty badly stung; secondly, the act would be a very mean and cowardly
+piece of mischief; and, thirdly, I should be found out.
+
+Still, I was bent on the chivalrous undertaking. I procured a stick of the
+right size, and marched up to the hive to make the attack. While I was
+deliberating, with the stick already a little way in the hole, whether I
+had better thrust it in suddenly, and then scamper away as fast as my legs
+could carry me, or proceed so deliberately that the bees would not suspect
+what was the matter, Captain Perry happened to come into the garden; and I
+was so busy with my mischief, that I did not notice him until he advanced
+within a rod or two of the bee-hives. He mistrusted what I was about.
+"Roderick," said he. I looked around. I am sure I would have given all I
+was worth in the world, not excepting my little pony, which I regarded as a
+fortune, if, by some magic or other, I could have got out of this scrape.
+But it was too late.  I hung my head down, as may be imagined, while the
+captain went on with his speech: "Roderick, if I were in your place (I
+heartily wished he was in my place, but I did not say so; I said nothing,
+in fact), if I were in your place, I would not disturb those poor, harmless
+bees, in that way.  If you should put that stick into the hive, as you were
+thinking of doing, it would take the bees a whole week to mend up their
+cells.  That is not the way we get honey. I don't wonder you are fond of
+honey, though. Children generally are fond of it; and if you will go into
+the house, Mrs Perry will give you as much as you wish, I am sure."
+
+This was twenty years ago--perhaps more.  I have met Captain Perry a
+hundred times since; yet even now I cannot look upon his frank, honest
+countenance, but I distinctly call to mind the Quixotic adventure with the
+bees, and I feel almost as much ashamed as I did when I was detected.
+
+
+                                STORY THIRD.
+                           THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER.
+
+
+I never shall forget what a sensation it used to produce in our family,
+years ago, when the newspaper came. We children--there were three of us,
+one brother and two sisters--used to watch for the post, on the
+all-important day, as anxiously as a cat ever watched for a mouse. Peter
+Packer, the bearer of these weekly dispatches, deserves a little notice. He
+was a queer man, at least he had that reputation in our neighborhood. As
+long as I can remember, he went his rounds; and, for aught I know, he is
+going to this day.
+
+Peter's old mare--she must be mentioned, for the two are almost
+inseparable--was as odd as he was. I should think she belonged to the same
+general class and order with Don Quixote's renowned Rosinante; but she had
+one peculiarity which is not put down in the description of Rosinante, to
+wit, the faculty of diagonal or oblique locomotion. This mare of Peter's
+went forward something after the manner of a crab, and a little like a ship
+with the wind abeam, as the sailors say. It was a standing topic of dispute
+among us boys, whether the animal went head foremost or not. But that did
+not matter much, so that she made her circuit--and she always did,
+punctually; that is, she always came some time or another. Sometimes she
+was a day or two later than usual; but this never occurred except in the
+summer season, and it was in this wise: she had a most passionate love for
+the practical study of botany; and not being allowed, when at home, to
+pursue her favorite science as often as she wished, owing partly to a want
+of specimens, and partly to her master's desire to educate her in the more
+solid branches, she frequently took the liberty to divest herself of her
+bridle, when standing at the door of her master's customers, and to gallop
+away in search of flowers. She was a great lover of botany, so much so,
+that, as I said before, her desire to obtain specimens sometimes interfered
+a little with her other literary engagements; and I am sure I can forgive
+her--
+
+  "For e'en her failings leaned to virtue's side."
+
+Just so it was with Peter himself. No storm, or tempest, or snow-bank,
+could detain him--that is, not longer than a day or two--in his weekly
+round. But he loved the theory of making money as much as his mare loved
+botany; and he was a practical student, too, and the road which he traveled
+afforded a good many opportunities both for extending his knowledge of that
+science and of practically applying his principles. So, between the two,
+our newspaper sometimes got thoroughly aired before it came to the house.
+But Peter was punctual--I insist upon it--for he always came some time or
+another.
+
+When the paper did come, we literally devoured its contents. With us it was
+an oracle. If the "Courier" affirmed or denied a thing, that was enough for
+us. It was an end to all debate. How confiding children are! He who has
+read "Robinson Crusoe" when a boy, finds it almost impossible to regard it
+a fable when he is a man. The newspaper, that makes its weekly visit to the
+family circle in the country, leaves the marks of its influence upon the
+mind and the morals of the child. It forms his tastes and controls his
+character. How careful, then, should parents be, in the selection of
+periodicals to be the companions of their children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               STORY FOURTH.
+                              THE CIDER PLOT.
+
+
+When I was an apprentice, some years ago, I lived--no matter where, and
+served--no matter whom. There were three apprentices besides myself; and it
+seems necessary to say, that, at the time when the incident happened which
+I am about to relate, we had neither of us completed that branch of
+husbandry called the sowing of wild oats; and as the soil was very
+favorable for the development of that species of grain, we were perhaps a
+little too industriously engaged in its cultivation. We were in great haste
+to have the oats all sowed in good season.
+
+One day our employer bought a cast of cider--Newark cider, I believe they
+called it--and the greater portion of it was nicely bottled, and placed in
+a dark corner of the cellar, to be used, not for making vinegar, or mince
+pies, but for a very different purpose--which may be surmised by such as
+remember that in those days the juice of the apple had a much better
+reputation than it has now. We were allowed our share of the beverage. But
+we were not satisfied. We resolved ourselves into a sort of committee of
+the whole, one afternoon; and after a long and somewhat spirited debate,
+came to the unanimous conclusion that, in the course of human events, it
+became necessary to employ the most effective measures to procure
+additional supplies from the cellar. Now it so happened, that these
+measures were not of the most peaceable and honorable kind. Such was their
+nature, in fact, that if we had been discovered in the act of resorting to
+them, it would no doubt have been deemed necessary, in the general course
+of human events, that we should be soundly whipped.
+
+The plan was to seize a bottle once in a while, something after the manner
+of privateers; though I believe the trade of privateering is regarded as
+piracy, now-a-days. How times are changed! We were to go on this expedition
+in rotation, from the oldest downward. We commenced, and two of us had
+performed the feat. It came George Reese's turn next. You didn't know
+George, I suppose. But I wish you had known him. I think you could
+appreciate the story better, if you knew him as well as I did. Well, George
+went down cellar, with his pitcher in his hand, thirsting for cider and
+glory. You must know that there was a flight of stairs that led directly to
+the cellar from the room we occupied. You should know, too, that we went
+down without a light, and felt our way in the dark. George had not been
+below two minutes, when we heard a report from the cellar very like the
+discharge of a pistol. It was loud enough to alarm the whole house. We were
+frightened. We had reason to be. Who knows, thought we, but they have set a
+spring-gun for us, and poor George is badly wounded? We waited in silence,
+and with not a little anxiety, for our hero to come up.
+
+He came at last, and a sorry looking fellow he was. He was covered from
+head to foot with yeast! The cook had placed her bottle of emptyings,
+tightly corked, in the village of cider bottles; and the truth flashed upon
+us at once, that George had made a mistake, and captured the wrong bottle;
+and the most of its contents, being a little angry at the time, were
+discharged into his face. But this was not all. George thought he had
+encountered a cider bottle, after all, for he could see nothing in the
+cellar, and he had poured what little remained of his yeast into the
+pitcher, and brought it up with him. When he made his appearance, there was
+such a noisy trio of laughter as that old kitchen had seldom heard before.
+This brought in the cook, and she laughed as loudly as the rest of us.
+Then, to crown all, the lady of the house, hearing the noise, came to see
+what we were all about; and she laughed the loudest of any body. I shall
+never forget the image of George Reese, as he entered that room. It gives
+me a pain in the side now, only to think of it.
+
+MORAL 1.--Before undertaking any enterprise similar to this cider-plot, it
+is desirable to count the cost.
+
+MORAL 2.--In your pursuit after glory, take care that you do not come in
+contact with something else that is not so pleasant.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              STORY FIFTH.
+                       MY FIRST HUNTING-EXCURSION.
+
+
+I shall never forget the first time I sallied out into the woods to try my
+hand at hunting. Carlo, the old family dog, went with me, and he was about
+as green in the matter of securing game as myself. We were pretty well
+matched, I think. I played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can
+recollect, and Carlo was a second Ralph. I had a most excellent
+fowling-piece--so they said. It began its career in the French war, and was
+a very veteran in service. Besides this ancient and honorable weapon, I was
+provided with all the means and appliances necessary for successful
+hunting. I was "armed and equipped as the law directs," to employ the words
+of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me to training.
+
+Well, it was sometime before we--Carlo and I--started any game. Wind-mills
+were scarce. For one, I began to fear we should have to return without any
+adventure to call forth our skill and courage. But the brightest time is
+often just before day, and so it was in this instance. Carlo began
+presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the leaves in the
+woods. Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of some kind, though I
+could not determine precisely what it was, on account of the underbrush.
+However, I satisfied myself that it was rare game, at any rate; and that
+point being settled, I took aim and fired.
+
+Carlo immediately ran to the poor victim. He was a courageous fellow, that
+Carlo, especially after the danger was over. Many a time I have known him
+make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by our house,
+though he generally took care not to insult them until they were at a
+convenient distance. Carlo had no notion of being killed, knowing very well
+that if he were dead, he could be of no service whatever to the world.
+Hudibras said well when he said,
+
+  "That he who fights and runs away,
+   May live to fight another day."
+
+[Illustration: RODERICK'S FIRST SHOT.]
+
+That was good logic. But Carlo went farther than this, even. He was for
+running away before he fought at all; and so he always did, except when the
+enemy ran away first, in which case he ran after him, as every chivalrous
+dog should. In the case of the animal which I shot at, Carlo bounded to his
+side when the gun was discharged, as I said before. For myself, I did not
+venture quite so soon, remembering that caution is the parent of safety. By
+and by, however, I mustered courage, and advanced to the spot. There lay
+the victim of my first shot! It was one of my father's sheep! Poor
+creature! She was sick, I believe, and went into a thicket, near a stream
+of water, where she could die in peace.
+
+I don't know whether I hit her or not. I didn't look to see, but ran home
+as fast as my legs would carry me. Thus ended the first hunting excursion
+in which I ever engaged, and, though I was a mere boy then, and am somewhat
+advanced now, it proved to be my last.
+
+
+
+
+
+                          SATURDAY IN WINTER.
+
+
+I.
+
+  Our tasks are all done, come away! come away!
+  For a right merry time--for a Saturday play.
+  See! the bright sun is shining right bravely on high;
+  Make haste, or he'll soon be half over the sky.
+  Come! first with our sleds down the glassy hill side,
+  And then on our skates o'er the river we'll glide.
+
+II.
+
+  Now, Harry! sit firm on your sled--here we go!
+  Swift--swift as an arrow let fly from a bow!
+  Hurrah! downward rushing, how gayly we speed,
+  Like an Arab away on his fleet-going steed.
+  Hurrah! bravely done! Down the icy hill side,
+  Swift--swift as an arrow, again let us glide.
+
+III.
+
+  And now for the river! How smooth and how bright,
+  Like a mirror it sleeps in the flashing sunlight.
+  Be sure, brother Harry, to strap your skates well;
+  Last time you remember how heavy you fell.
+  Now away! swift away! why, Harry! not down?
+  Are you hurt? You must take better care of your
+  crown.
+
+IV.
+
+  Up, up, my good brother! now steady! start fair!
+  Away we go! swift through the keen, frosty air.
+  Down again! Bless me, Harry! your skates can't be
+       right--
+  Just wait till I see--no--but now they are tight.
+  Here we go again! merry as school-boys can be,
+  From books, pens, and pencils, and black board, set free.
+
+V.
+
+  Tired, at last, of our sport, home to dinner we run,
+  And find that, two hours ago, dinner was done.
+  But our meat and potatoes we relish quite well,
+  Though cold--and the reason we scarcely need tell.
+  Five hours spent in scudding and skating, I ween,
+  'Twould give to such lads as we, appetites keen.
+
+VI.
+
+  At last the dim twilight succeeds to the day;
+  Our week's work is ended, and ended our play.
+  'Tis Saturday night, and we know with the morn,
+  Another dear Sabbath of rest will be born.
+  O'er wearied, we sink into slumber profound,
+  Assured that God's angels are watching around.
+
+
+
+
+
+                     ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.
+
+
+[Illustration: ROVER AND HIS LITTLE MASTER.]
+
+
+"Come, Rover!" said Harry, as he passed a fine old Newfoundland dog that
+lay on a mat at the door; "come, Rover! I am going down to the river to
+sail my boat, and I want you to go with me."
+
+Rover opened his large eyes, and looked lazily at his little master.
+
+"Come! Rover! Rover!"
+
+But the dog didn't care to move, and so Harry went off to the river side
+alone. He had not been gone a great while, before a thought of her boy came
+suddenly into the mother's mind. Remembering that he had a little vessel,
+and that the river was near, it occurred to her that he might have gone
+there.
+
+Instantly her heart began to throb with alarm.
+
+"Is Harry with you?" she called up to Harry's father, who was in his study.
+But Harry's father said he was not there.
+
+"I'm afraid he's gone to the river with his boat," said the mother.
+
+"To the river!" And Mr Lee dropped his pen, and came quickly down. Taking
+up his hat, he went hurriedly from the house. Rover was still lying upon
+the mat, with his head upon his paws and his eyes shut.
+
+"Rover!" said his master, in a quick, excited voice, "where is Harry? Has
+he gone to the river? Away and see! quick!"
+
+The dog must have understood every word, for he sprang eagerly to his feet,
+and rushed toward the river. Mr Lee followed as fast as he could run. When
+he reached the river bank, he saw his little boy in the water, with Rover
+dragging him toward the shore. He was just in time to receive the
+half-drowned child in his arms, and carry him home to his mother.
+
+Harry, who remained insensible, was placed in a warm bed. He soon, however,
+revived, and in an hour or two was running about again. But after this,
+Rover would never leave the side of his little master, when he wandered
+beyond the garden gate. Wherever you found Harry, there Rover was sure to
+be--sometimes walking by his side, and sometimes lying on the grass, with
+his big eyes watching every movement.
+
+Once Harry found his little vessel, which had been hidden away since he
+went with it to the river, and, without his mother's seeing him, he started
+again for the water. Rover, as usual, was with him. On his way to the
+river, he saw some flowers, and, in order to gather them, put his boat down
+upon the grass. Instantly Rover picked it up in his mouth, and walked back
+toward the house with it. After going a little way, he stopped, looked
+around, and waited until Harry had got his hand full of flowers. The child
+then saw that Rover had his boat, and tried to get it from him; but Rover
+played around him, always keeping out of his reach, and retreating toward
+the house, until he got back within the gate. Then he bounded into the
+house, and laid the boat at the feet of Harry's mother.
+
+Harry was a little angry with the good old dog, at first, but when his
+mother explained to him what Rover meant, he hugged him around the neck,
+and said he would never go down to the river again any more.
+
+Harry is a man now, and Rover has long since been dead; but he often thinks
+of the dear old dog that saved him from drowning when he was a child; and
+it gives him great pleasure to remember that he never beat Rover, as some
+boys beat their dogs, when they are angry, and was never unkind to him. Had
+it been otherwise, the thought would have given him great pain.
+
+
+
+
+                              SOMETHING WRONG.
+
+
+[Illustration: SOMETHING WRONG.]
+
+
+What's the matter here? There is something wrong. It is clear that the
+little boy in the picture is not receiving kind treatment at the hands of
+his sister. But what is she doing to him? Not pulling his ear, we hope.
+Something is wrong; what can it be? We must try and make it out. There is a
+whip and a top on the floor, and also a chair thrown down, to which a
+string is tied.
+
+The little boy, we suppose, was whipping his top, while his sister was
+playing with the chair.
+
+"Take care, now, Johnny," says the sister, as the lash of her brother's
+whip comes every little while close to her face; "take care, or you will
+cut me in the eyes."
+
+But Johnny either doesn't hear, or doesn't heed, and keeps on whipping his
+top.
+
+"There, now!" says Anna, "you came as near as could be to striking me. I
+wish you would go out into the passage or down into the dining-room with
+your top."
+
+"John," says mamma, looking up from her work, "you must be careful and not
+cut your sister with that whip."
+
+"No, ma'am," replies Johnny, and keeps on with his sport as carelessly as
+ever.
+
+Presently there is a cry, and then an angry exclamation. The lash of
+Johnny's whip has fallen with a smarting stroke on Anna's neck. The little
+girl, without waiting to reflect, follows the impulse of her feelings, and
+seeks to punish her brother by pinching and pulling his ears.
+
+This is the story of the picture, and we are sorry it will not bear a more
+favorable explanation.
+
+We do not think that any of our young readers will approve the conduct of
+either of the children. Undoubtedly, Johnny was wrong not to have been more
+careful how he threw his lash about. Anna had as much right to be in the
+room as he had, and if Johnny wanted to whip his top, it was his place to
+do it so cautiously as not in the least to endanger his sister's face and
+eyes; and he deserved to have his top taken from him as a punishment for
+his carelessness and indifference; and no doubt this was done by his
+mother.
+
+And Anna was wrong, likewise, for permitting her angry feelings to so carry
+her away as to lead her to hurt her brother, in revenge for what he had
+done to her. So, you see, Johnny's wrong act was the cause of a still
+greater departure from right in his sister. If Johnny had loved his sister,
+he would have been much more careful how he used his whip; and if Anna had
+loved her brother, she would never have been tempted to strike him or pull
+his ear, even if he had hurt her.
+
+It is a very sad thing for little brothers and sisters to quarrel with each
+other.
+
+  "Birds in their little nests agree,
+    And 'tis a shameful sight,
+  When children of one family,
+    Fall out, and chide, and fight."
+
+We hope, among all our little readers, there is not a brother and sister
+who have quarreled--who have ever called each other hard names--or, worse,
+who have ever lifted their tiny hands to hurt each other.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE FAVORITE CHILD.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FAVORITE CHILD.]
+
+
+In a very pretty little village not many miles from N----, in Connecticut,
+lived Susan Meredith. She was the youngest of three sisters, the eldest of
+whom could not be more than twelve or thirteen years of age. A year or two
+before the period when our history of this little group commences, the
+mother had gone to her rest.
+
+Weighed down with a sorrow too heavy to be borne, and of a nature too
+delicate to be confided to others, she sank under it while in the noon of
+life, and died commending her children to God. Susan--little Sue, as she
+was frequently called--young as she was, remembered a thousand incidents
+connected with the departed one, and seemed, so late as the time at which
+our story begins, to be never happier than when her mother was the theme of
+conversation.
+
+There was something remarkable in this. One reason for it might have been,
+that the surviving parent of these sisters, though once a kind and
+affectionate father, was now so altered by habits of intemperance, that
+they found very little enjoyment in his society. But there was another
+reason. Little Sue was an unusually thoughtful, serious child, for one of
+her years. Was there not another reason, still? I do not know. I cannot
+tell what words God may whisper to the child that loves him; but this I
+know, that little Sue talked much of heaven, and seemed to have learned
+more of the language of heaven than men can teach.
+
+One bright Saturday, in the early spring time, when there was no school,
+these sisters might have been seen winding their way through the woods, not
+far from the house where they lived, searching for the first wild flowers.
+Little Sue, the youngest, was very happy, but, as usual, more grave than
+the other sisters. By and by, wearied with their walk, they sat down under
+the shadow, of a tree, and talked a great while. At first, the conversation
+was about birds and flowers; but Sue soon gave a serious turn to it.
+
+"I wonder," said she, "if dear mother has pretty flowers in heaven. I hope
+so--she loved them so well. Do you remember the little monthly rose she
+wanted we should bring into her room, just before she died? How happy she
+was, when one of us went and brought it to her bed. And she went to heaven
+so soon after that! Oh, I think there must be flowers up there in the sky,
+or she would not have thought of them and loved them so, when she was
+dying. Don't you think so?"
+
+And she was silent. So were her sisters, awhile. Thoughts of heaven made
+them serious. They were sad, too. When the youngest--their darling
+Sue--conversed in this strain, a cloud always came over their sunny faces.
+They could scarcely tell why it was so; for they, too, loved to think of
+heaven. But the language of their sister seemed to them to belong to
+another world; and often, in the midst of their brightest hopes, would come
+the fear, like a thunderbolt, that God would crush that cherished flower,
+and remove her from their embrace while she was young.
+
+"Sue," at length said Eliza, the eldest sister, "why do you always talk so
+much about heaven?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply; "perhaps, because I think a good deal about
+it. I dreamed last night"----
+
+"Oh, I thought so," said Maria, playfully interrupting her sister; "I
+should think the little fairies were playing hide and seek all around your
+pillow every night. I wish they would whisper in my ears as they do in
+yours. Why, the naughty things hardly ever speak to me, and when they do,
+they tell a very different story from those they tell you. It is generally
+about falling down from a church steeple, or something of that kind. Well,
+what did they say to you this time, dear?"
+
+"I never had such a dream before," said the favorite, her face glowing with
+a new, almost an unearthly radiance; "I mean I never had one just like it.
+When dear mother died, you remember I told you a dream about the angels.
+Last night I thought they came to me again, and I saw mother, too, so
+clearly!"
+
+She stopped, and her eyes fell. She seemed almost sorry that she had said
+as much; for she had not forgotten that the former dream to which she
+alluded had caused her sisters pain, and she thought, that perhaps she
+should make them unhappy again, if she related her dream of the night
+before. But her sisters begged her to go on, and she did so.
+
+"When I went to sleep," said she, "I was thinking of--of--what father had
+said to me"--and she burst into a flood of tears. Her sisters wept, too;
+for they well remembered that their father had come home intoxicated that
+night, and that he had spoken very harshly to them all, and especially to
+the youngest. They could not say much to console her. What could they say?
+Silently they wept, and by their tears and embraces they told her how
+deeply they sympathized with her, and how much they would do for her, if
+they could. When the little dreamer was able to go on, she said,
+
+"I was thinking about this when I went to sleep. I thought I was crying,
+and wondering why God should let dear mother die, and leave us all alone,
+when I heard some one say, 'Look up,' I looked up in the sky, and all the
+stars were windows, and I saw through them. I saw heaven--so beautiful--so
+beautiful! I saw mother looking out of one of these windows, and she
+smiled, as she did when we brought the rose to her bed-side. I heard her
+call my name, and she reached her arms toward me, and said, 'You may come,'
+Oh, this was not like other dreams"----
+
+"Don't think of it, dear sister; don't think of it any more," said Eliza.
+"You was not well last night, and I have often heard, that when people are
+ill, their dreams are more apt to be disturbed. But we will not say any
+more about it now, dear."
+
+"No," said Maria; "we shall all feel too sad, if we do." And she made an
+effort to be cheerful; though tears stood in her eyes as she spoke.
+
+"I don't know why it makes others feel sad to think of heaven," said the
+favorite. "I should love dearly to go there."
+
+"But then it is so dreadful to die!"
+
+"I know it; but mother was so happy when she died!"
+
+"Would you be willing to leave your sisters, dear Sue?"
+
+"No; not unless I could see my mother and Christ. Oh, I do love Christ more
+than all the rest of my friends! Do you think that is wrong?"
+
+The three sisters slowly and thoughtfully bent their steps homeward, and
+just as the sun was setting, and the western clouds were spread with the
+beauty and glory of twilight, they entered that cottage which, though the
+abode of sorrow, was yet dear and sacred to them, because it was once the
+home of their mother.
+
+From that time, the gentle, loving, thoughtful little Sue, faded--faded as
+a flower in the autumn wind. She had not been well for weeks; and soon it
+was evident that she was rapidly declining. Was her dream a cause or an
+effect--a cause of her decline, or an effect of an illness already preying
+upon her frail system? Perhaps we cannot tell. There is something very
+remarkable about many dreams. It is not easy to account for them all, by
+what is known of the laws of the mind. But we must not stop now to inquire
+into this matter.
+
+Step by step, that cherished sister went downward to the grave; and before
+the summer had come, while the early violet and the pure anemone were still
+in bloom, God called her home. Peacefully and beautifully her sun went
+down. "They have come," she said. So died the youngest--the favorite child.
+
+
+
+
+                                THE MINE.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MINE.]
+
+
+There  are three kingdoms in nature--the Mineral kingdom, the Vegetable
+kingdom, and the Animal kingdom--the former for the sake of the latter, and
+all for the sake of man. Without the Vegetable kingdom animals could not
+exist, and without the Mineral kingdom vegetables could not exist.
+
+It is also worthy of remark, that in all the inferior kingdoms of nature,
+there is an image of what is superior. The lowest of all the kingdoms is
+the Mineral kingdom, where every thing takes a fixed form, and where all
+changes are the work of centuries, instead of days and months, as in the
+Vegetable and Animal kingdoms. Yet, in this dull, inert kingdom, we find a
+certain image of the one next above, in the upright or orderly forms into
+which many of its substances arrange themselves. Under circumstances of
+more than usual freedom, particles of matter in this kingdom will assume
+shapes so nearly resembling those of the Vegetable kingdom, that many were
+at first disposed to conclude that they were mere petrifactions; as in the
+case of formations at the bottom of the ocean, and those that take place in
+caverns. But we will not wonder at this, when we remember, that the use of
+the Mineral kingdom is to sustain the Vegetable kingdom, in order that the
+latter may sustain the Animal kingdom. Use, it must be remembered, is the
+great law that pervades, sustains, and holds in harmonious order, the whole
+universe.
+
+In the Vegetable kingdom we see a still nearer approach to man. There is
+motion and life--not conscious life, but a kind of insensible existence.
+Nearly all the members of this kingdom elevate themselves toward heaven,
+and stand upright, like men.
+
+In the Animal kingdom there is still greater perfection of life and
+freedom. Beasts move over the earth, birds fly through the air, and fishes
+change their places, at will, in the sea. This is the highest and most
+perfect kingdom, and it is for the sake of this that the others exist. And,
+as was just said, all three are for the sake of man. They go to sustain his
+natural life, while he remains in this world.
+
+The variety and beauty in the two higher kingdoms are displayed to the eyes
+of all. But the wonders of the Mineral kingdom are hidden beneath the
+surface. Mines have to be opened, in order to obtain the metals and
+precious stones that the earth hides in her bosom; and man can only obtain
+them through hard and patient labor. Hundreds of feet below the surface of
+the ground, the miner, with no light to direct his labor but that given him
+by his dimly burning safety-lamp, toils on, unconscious of the day's
+opening or decline. The sun does not rise nor set for him. He is not warned
+by the home-returning bee, the dimly falling shadows of evening, nor the
+sudden cry of the night-bird, that the hour of rest has come. But the body
+cannot endure labor beyond a certain number of hours. Tired nature calls
+for repose, and the call must be obeyed. Even the miner must have his hours
+of rest; and then he comes forth, it may be, from his gloomy place of
+labor, once more into the sunlight; or sinks to sleep in the dark chambers
+where he toils for bread.
+
+When you look at a piece of metal, whether it be gold, silver, copper, or
+iron, remember that it has been won from its hidden place, deep in the
+solid earth, by the hard labor of man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               THE MINER.
+
+
+  Down where the daylight never comes
+    Toileth the miner on;
+  He sees not the golden morning break--
+    He sees not the setting sun.
+
+  Dimly his lamp in the dark vault burns,
+    And he sits on the miner's hard floor,
+  Toiling, toiling, toiling on;
+    Toiling for precious ore!
+
+  The air is wet; for the dew and rain,
+    Drank by the thirsty ground,
+  Have won their way to his dark retreat,
+    And are trickling all around---
+
+  And sickly vapors are near his lips,
+    And close to his wire-net lamp,
+  Unseen, as an evil spirit comes,
+    Up stealeth the dread fire-damp!
+
+  But the miner works on, though death is by,
+    And fears not the monster grim;
+  For the wiry gauze, round his steady light,
+    Makes a safety-lamp for him.
+
+  Rough and rude, and of little worth,
+    Seems the ore that the miner brings
+  From the hidden places where lie concealed
+    Earth's rare and precious things;
+
+  But, tried awhile in the glowing fire,
+    It is rough and rude no more;
+  Art moulds the iron, and forms the gold,
+    And fashions the silver ore.
+
+  And useful, rare, and beautiful things,
+    'Neath the hand of skill arise:
+  Oh! a thousand thousand human wants
+    The miner's toil supplies!
+
+
+
+
+                            VISIT TO FAIRY LAND.
+
+
+So, then, you want to hear some stories about the fairies, do you, little
+girl? Well, I must humor you a little, I suppose; though I should not
+wonder if my fairy stories were somewhat different from those you have
+heard before. But have you the least idea that there were ever such beings
+as the fairies in the world? If you have, let me tell you, you are quite
+mistaken. The stories that have been told about these fairy people are none
+of them worthy of belief, though it must be admitted that millions have
+believed them. Many of the men and women who pretended to have seen the
+fairies, and who related the stories in the first place, believed all they
+said, I have no doubt. But they were generally ignorant persons, very
+superstitious, and easily imposed upon. There are, it is true, invisible
+inhabitants in this world. Those who believe the Bible, can hardly doubt
+the presence of angels among us. But angels, as they are represented in the
+Scriptures, are a very different class of spirits from those called
+fairies, if we may credit what has been said of this singular race of
+beings, by those who pretend to have seen them in fairy land.
+
+Not a great while ago, the people of England and Scotland were very
+superstitious. It is not two centuries since our good forefathers on that
+island were burning witches by scores. At that time, a great many believed
+in the existence of fairies, or elves. I have been at some pains to find
+out at what time this fairy superstition first appeared among the Britons.
+But it seems not very easy to determine. One thing is certain, that the
+belief in some kind of spirits--either the same with the fairies, under a
+different name, or very nearly related to them--dates back to a very early
+period in British history--earlier, probably, than the Christian era.
+
+The fairies are always represented as very small and very
+beautiful--generally, as perfect miniatures of the human form. The color of
+their dress is uniformly pure green. It would seem, according to the
+accounts of these people, some five or six hundred years ago, that they
+were kind, amiable, excellent neighbors. Indeed, one of the names they went
+by was, "the Good Neighbors," and another was, "the Men of Peace." Still,
+they used to do some mischief in those days, if we may believe their
+historians, who tell us that the fairies, once in a while, visited the
+abodes of men, and carried away captives into their invisible haunts, under
+ground. The reason for this kidnapping of human beings was said to be, that
+the fairies were obliged occasionally to pay a tribute of this kind to
+their king or queen.
+
+The fairies were not always cunning enough to keep their victims, after
+they had caught them. Sometimes people would come back from fairy land, and
+tell all about what they had seen there. You might suppose that a great
+deal would be learned of these strange, invisible creatures, from the men
+and women who had been with them and escaped. Well, so there was. But the
+worst of it was, the stories did not hang together very well; and there
+were about as many different and contradictory accounts of fairydom as
+there were different individuals who pretended to have made a visit to that
+country. However, all seemed to agree that fairy land was a very merry
+country. The people there were great lovers of fun, according to the
+general testimony, and used to dance a great deal by moonlight, in the open
+air. They are engaged in one of their dances, you see, in the engraving.
+Every evening, as soon as the moon rose, they assembled at some convenient
+place, took hold of each other's hands, usually in a ring, I think, and
+then they had a right merry time of it, you may depend. It did not seem to
+make any difference, whether the spot selected for the dance was on the
+land or on the sea. Indeed, they could dance pretty well in the air,
+without any thing to stand upon. The assemblies held in the palaces of the
+king and queen of the fairies, were, at times, splendid in the extreme. No
+poet, in his most lofty flights of fancy, ever dreamed of such beauty and
+splendor as were exhibited at the fairy court. They rode on milk-white
+steeds. Their dresses were of brilliant green, and were rich beyond
+conception. When they mingled in the dance, or moved in procession among
+the shady groves, or over the delightful meadows, covered with the fairest
+of flowers, music, such as mortal lips cannot utter, floated on the breeze.
+
+However, these splendors, astonishing as they were, all vanished in a
+moment, whenever the eye of any one gifted with the power of spiritual
+communion was turned upon them. Then their treasures of gold and silver
+became slate-stones, and their stately halls were turned into damp caverns.
+They themselves, instead of being the beautiful creatures they were before,
+became ugly as a hedge-fence.
+
+The king of fairy land was called _Oberon_--the queen, _Titania_.
+The king used to wear a crown of jewels on his head, and he always carried
+a horn in his hand, which set every body around him to dancing, whenever he
+blew it. Ben Jonson, a poet who flourished a great many years ago, speaks
+very respectfully of fairies and elves, in his poems. In describing the
+haunts of his "Sad Shepherd," he says--
+
+
+  "There, in the stocks of trees, white fays do dwell,
+   And span-long elves that dance about a pool."
+
+
+Shakspeare, too, in several of his plays, makes us quite familiar with the
+fairy people. Shakspeare, you are aware, wrote in the time of Elizabeth,
+and as late as that period, there were thousands in England and Scotland in
+whose creed the existence of such a race of spirits was a very important
+article. It was not long, however, after this, before the superstition
+about the fairies--which, at the worst, was a very foolish affair--began to
+decline. But that decline brought a dark night to thousands of poor,
+innocent men and women; for then came the era of witchcraft, and persons of
+every rank, convicted of this imaginary crime, were hurried to the scaffold
+or the stake.
+
+In the beginning of the seventeenth century, Dr. Corbett, Bishop of Oxford
+and Norwich, wrote a very humorous satire on the fairy superstition, called
+"The Fairies' Farewell, a proper new ballad to be sung or whistled to the
+tune of Meadow Brow." Perhaps I cannot better take leave of these very
+curious imaginary people, than to employ a couple of stanzas from the
+bishop's playful ballad:
+
+
+  "Witness those rings and roundelays
+     Of theirs, which yet remain,
+   Were footed in Queen Mary's days,
+     On many a grassy plain;
+   But since of late Elizabeth,
+     And later James came in,
+   They never danced on any heath,
+     As when the time hath been.
+
+  "By which we note the fairies
+     Were of the old profession;
+   Their songs were Ave Marias,
+     Their dances were processions;
+  But now, alas! they all are dead,
+    Or gone beyond the seas,
+  Or further for religion fled,
+    Or else they take their ease."
+
+
+
+
+                              THE HERMIT.
+
+
+A Traveler was once passing through a great wilderness, in which he
+supposed no human being dwelt. But, while riding along in its gloomiest
+part, he was surprised to see a hermit, his face covered with a long
+beard, that hung down upon his breast, sitting on a stone at the
+entrance of what seemed a cave.
+
+The hermit arose as the traveler drew up his horse, and speaking kindly to
+him, invited him to accept such refreshment as it was in his power to
+offer. The traveler did not refuse, but, dismounting, tied his horse to a
+tree, and, following the pious man, entered the narrow door of a little
+cave which nature had formed in the side of a mountain. All the hermit had
+to set before the traveler, was water from a pure stream that came merrily
+leaping down the hill side, and some wild fruit and nuts.
+
+"Tell me," said the traveler, after he had eaten, "why a man with a sound
+body, such as you possess, and a sound mind, should hide away from his
+fellow-men, in a dreary wild like this?"
+
+"For pious meditation and repentance," replied the hermit. "All is vanity
+in the world. Its beauties charm but to allure from heaven. And worse than
+this, it is full of evil. Turn where you will, pain, sorrow, and crime meet
+your eyes. But here, in the silence of nature, there is nothing to draw the
+mind from holy thoughts; there is no danger of falling into temptation. By
+pious meditation and prayer, we are purified and made fit for heaven."
+
+"Not so," answered the traveler; "pious meditation and prayer are of no
+avail without good be done to our fellow-men. Piety is nothing without
+charity; and charity consists in willing well and doing well to our
+neighbors. 'And now abideth faith, hope, and charity,' says the Apostle,
+'but the greatest of these is charity,' Hermit, you are not wise thus to
+retire from the midst of the busy world. Your service cannot be acceptable
+to God. Go back again among your fellow-men, and faithfully perform your
+real duties in life. Heal the sick, comfort the mourner, bind up the broken
+heart, and in the various walks of life do good to friend and enemy.
+Without this, how can you hope in the judgment to hear the Lord say, 'As
+much as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me?'"
+
+The hermit, at such unexpected words, bowed his head, and was silent. The
+traveler went on, and said--
+
+"You have committed a common error, in supposing that in holy meditation,
+as it is called, there was any thing particularly pleasing to God. But
+reason will tell you why the widow's mite is more acceptable in heaven than
+the most pious thoughts of idle self-righteousness. Hermit! go back again
+into the world, and there act your part as a man in the great social body.
+Only by this means will you be prepared to live and act in the great body
+of angels in heaven."
+
+The hermit could not reply, but still sat with his head bowed to his bosom,
+and his eyes upon the ground. The words of the stranger fell with strokes
+of reproof upon his heart.
+
+When the traveler returned that way, he sought for the hermit, but found
+him not at the door of his cave. He entered, but the place had been a long
+time deserted. The erring man had gone back into the world, and taken his
+place among his fellows. And he had done right. No man is wise who retires
+from society, and shuts himself up in the hope of becoming better through
+prayer and pious thoughts. Only by doing our duty to our fellow-men, in
+some particular pursuit in life, can we hope to grow better and wiser?
+
+
+
+
+                               A PICTURE.
+
+
+[Illustration: A PICTURE.]
+
+
+What have we here? That kind-looking old gentleman must have something for
+these children; his hand is in his pocket, and they are all gathering
+around him. I wonder who he is, and what he is going to give them?
+
+"He's their uncle, may be."
+
+"Or their grandfather."
+
+"Or somebody else that is kind to children."
+
+No doubt of it in the world. He is some one who likes children, you may be
+sure. And I suppose he's got a pocket full of sugar-plums or nuts for his
+favorites. The little girl who has seized his cane, I rather think, will
+get the largest share; but I don't suppose her young companions will be at
+all displeased at this, for no doubt she is a very good girl, and beloved
+by all. Indeed, if we may judge by the faces of the children, not one of
+them will look at what the other receives, to see if he has not obtained
+the largest share.
+
+This is not always so, however. I know some little boys and girls, who,
+when their parents, relatives, or friends give them cakes, candies, or
+playthings, immediately look from what they have themselves to what the
+others have received, and, if one thinks his share smaller or inferior,
+becomes dissatisfied, and, from a jealous and envious spirit, sacrifices
+his own pleasure and that of all the rest. Because there is a square inch
+more of cake in his brother's piece, that which he has doesn't taste good.
+If he have one sugar-plum less than the others, they become tasteless, and
+he throws them all, perhaps, upon the floor.
+
+How bad all this looks, and how very bad it really is! The friends of such
+children are never encouraged to make them presents. They rather avoid
+doing so; for they know that their greedy, envious, covetous spirit, will
+turn the good things they would offer them into causes of strife and
+unhappiness.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE BOY AND THE ROBIN.
+
+
+I.
+
+  So now, pretty robin, you've come to my door;
+  I wonder you never have ventured before:
+  'Tis likely you thought I would do you some harm;
+  But pray, sir, what cause have you seen for alarm?
+
+II.
+
+  You seem to be timid--I'd like to know why--
+  Did I ever hurt you? What makes you so shy?
+  You shrewd little rogue, I've a mind, ere you go,
+  To tell you a thing it concerns you to know.
+
+III
+
+  You think I have never discovered your nest;
+  'Tis hid pretty snugly, it must be confessed.
+  Ha! ha! how the boughs are entwined all around!
+  No wonder you thought it would never be found.
+
+IV.
+
+  You're as cunning a robin as ever I knew;
+  And yet, ha! ha! ha! I'm as cunning as you!
+  I know all about your nice home on the tree--'Twas
+  nonsense to try to conceal it from me.
+
+V.
+
+  I know--for but yesterday I was your guest--
+  How many young robins there are in your nest;
+  And pardon me, sir, if I venture to say,
+  They've had not a morsel of dinner to-day.
+
+VI.
+
+  But you look very sad, pretty robin, I see,
+  As you glance o'er the meadow, to yonder green tree;
+  I fear I have thoughtlessly given you pain,
+  And I will not prattle so lightly again.
+
+VII.
+
+  Go home, where your mate and your little ones dwell;
+  Though I know where they are, yet I never will tell;
+  Nobody shall injure that leaf-covered nest,
+  For sacred to me is the place of your rest.
+
+VIII.
+
+  Adieu! for you want to be flying away,
+  And it would be cruel to ask you to stay;
+  But come in the morning, come early, and sing,
+  For dearly I love you, sweet warbler of spring.
+
+
+
+
+                      SOMETHING ABOUT CONSCIENCE:
+                         OR MR MASON'S STORY.
+
+
+Two little boys, Robert and Samuel, were one day assisting the gardener
+about some flower-beds. They were rather young to be of much service to the
+old man, and gave him some trouble, once in a while, by the clumsy way in
+which they did their work. Still, they meant to please the gardener, and he
+ought not to have got out of patience, if they did now and then make a
+blunder. Well, he was usually very patient and kind; but that day, for some
+reason or another, things did not go right with him at all. Pianos and
+violins, though they sometimes make sweet music, get out of tune
+occasionally, and then, no matter what you try to play on them, nothing
+sounds well. It is so with men and women too often; and with boys and
+girls, too, it is to be feared. At any rate, it was so with Mr Mason's
+gardener, at the time I speak of. He was peevish and fretful, and said some
+harsh things to Robert, because he accidentally destroyed a fine tulip with
+his spade. Robert cried, and said he did not mean to do it. Then the old
+man was sorry, but, probably feeling too proud to confess it, he was silent
+for a long time. By and by, however, he told Robert that his conscience
+troubled him on account of his speaking so unkindly, and he hoped the
+little boy would forgive him. So you see the gardener was a good man,
+although he was hasty at that time. Robert cheerfully forgave him, and
+things went on a good deal better. The boys tried to be more careful, and
+the gardener tried to be more patient.
+
+[Illustration: THE GARDENER REPROVING ROBERT.]
+
+Robert thought a good deal about the old man's mention of conscience, and
+when he saw his father, he asked him what the conscience meant.
+
+Robert's father liked to have his children make such inquiries, and did all
+that he could to encourage them in doing so.
+
+"There are two ways, Robert," said he, "of explaining things. One is by
+telling what they are, directly, and the other is by telling what they do.
+I find that my children generally like the last of these methods better
+than they do the first; and I am not sure but, on the whole, it is quite as
+good as the other. At any rate, I shall try to describe conscience by
+pointing out some of its effects. In other words, I shall tell you a story.
+Some twenty-five years ago--it may be thirty; how time slides away!--I knew
+a boy who had one of the kindest of mothers, but whose father had died
+before his recollection. I think--indeed I know--he loved his mother,
+though he was sometimes thoughtless, and once in a while disobedient. One
+day, in midsummer, when the blackberries were ripe in the woods, and the
+trout were sporting merrily in the brook, Charles--for that was the name of
+the boy--came running to his mother, all out of breath, and said that
+Joseph Cone and Charley Corson had come with their baskets and fish-lines,
+and wanted he should go with them. 'Oh, such fine times as they are going
+to have, mother! Mayn't I go? Blackberries are ripe now, and there are lots
+of them over in Mr Simpson's woods. And oh! such splendid trout! One of the
+boys caught a trout last Saturday, so big that he couldn't hardly pull it
+out of the water! Oh, I _do_ want to go, mother! I'll bring home a
+fine string of trout--I know I will. Ha! ha! ha!' And Charley danced up and
+down the room, and clapped his hands, and laughed very loudly at the idea,
+I suppose, of his outwitting the simple little fish."
+
+Robert laughed, too, when his father came to this part of the story, and
+said he thought that was something like counting the chickens before they
+were hatched.
+
+"Yes," continued Mr Mason; "but I am afraid that was not the worst of it,
+by a good deal; for Charles knew well enough that his mother wanted him at
+home that day, and he ought not to have urged her so hard. 'My dear,' said
+that kind, indulgent lady, 'I will let you do just as you choose about
+going. You know I want you to help me about the house to-day, and I should
+be very sorry to have you leave me. But I don't wish to govern you by
+force. I want to see you mind because you love me--not because you are
+obliged to. So I shall not say any more. Do as you please, this time.'
+
+"Charles thought a moment or two. He saw plainly enough that there were two
+sides to the question about going a-fishing that day. His mother was not
+very well. He thought of that; and he thought that if he went, she would
+have more work to do, and perhaps she would then be quite sick. His
+conscience was at work, you see. 'Well,' he thought, 'I guess I will let
+the trout stay where they are to-day,' But just then he heard one of the
+boys say, 'Halloo, Charley! what do you say? We're tired of waiting. Shall
+we go without you, or will you come along?'
+
+"Well, what do you think Charley did, Robert?"
+
+"Why, he stayed at home, and helped his mother, of course."
+
+"No, I'm sorry to say that he changed his mind, and started off with the
+boys. His conscience said _no_, but his will said _yes_."
+
+"Then he did very wrong."
+
+"So I think. But the truth must be told. Charley took his fishing
+apparatus, and whistled for his little dog, Caper, and away the three boys
+ran, toward the brook.
+
+"'Let's go to the deep hole under the elm tree. That's where Bill Havens
+caught the big trout, the other day,' said one.
+
+"Bill Havens, as they called him, was one of the most noted fishermen in
+the place. I knew him well. He was always sure to succeed, wherever and
+whenever he went out with his hook and line. I have been to this deep hole
+with Bill Havens, more than once, and have seen him catch half a dozen
+large pickerel, when I could not, by any of my skill, persuade a single
+fish to come out of the brook.
+
+[Illustration: BILL HAVENS AT THE DEEP HOLE.]
+
+"'But we shall have to cross the brook,' said Charley, 'and how in the
+world are we going to do that? The foot-bridge was swept away by the
+freshet, you know.'
+
+"'Oh, I'll see about that. I know where there's an old tree that lies clear
+across the stream. We can get over on that, just as well as we could over
+the foot-bridge,'
+
+"And so they started for the old tree, which was to serve them for a
+bridge. It had been blown down by the wind, and had fallen across the
+stream, so that the large end rested on the side where the boys were, while
+the upper limbs reached the opposite bank. When the boys got to the tree,
+they saw that it was not quite so convenient a bridge as they could wish;
+and Charley Mason, who was not by any means a headstrong lad, and not used
+to such adventures, said he would rather not attempt to cross it. But the
+other two boys laughed at him, and told him not to be a coward; and he
+finally determined he would venture, if the others succeeded. They did
+succeed, and Charley, not without some trembling--which, of course, made
+his danger the greater--prepared to follow. 'Take care, Charley! take care!
+Rather dangerous business, isn't it? Cling closely to the tree. There--so.
+Don't look down into the water, or you'll be dizzy. That's the way. Come
+on, now. Don't hang on to that dry limb! It will break and let you fall
+into the water, if you do. How the poor fellow trembles! _Plash_!
+There he goes, I declare!'
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES CROSSING THE BROOK.]
+
+"Sure enough, Charles had slipped and fallen into the stream! and his
+companions, so frightened that they hardly knew what they did, took to
+their heels, and ran as fast as they could toward home!"
+
+"Poor Charley! he was drowned, then?" said Robert.
+
+"No, he managed to get out of the water; but he had a hard time of it,
+though. He could not swim very well, at the best; and with all his clothes
+on, it was as much as he could do to swim at all. If the river had been a
+little wider, he never could have got out alone. As it was, however, by the
+help of some rocks there were in the brook, he reached the shore, pretty
+thoroughly exhausted, and not a little frightened. His zeal for
+trout-fishing was by this time a good deal cooled off, as you may suppose.
+The nearest he came to catching any of those cunning little fellows that
+day, was when he tumbled into the brook; and then he had something else to
+think of.
+
+"There he was, alone, wet as a drowned rat, and shivering, partly from cold
+and partly from fright, as if he had the ague. Poor fellow! His conscience
+began to be heard again, now he had time to think. He hardly knew what to
+do; he was ashamed to go home to his mother; and there he stood, for a good
+while, leaning his head on the fence near the water, the tears all the time
+chasing each other down his cheeks."
+
+"I don't wonder he cried," said Robert; "but I can't help laughing to think
+what a sorry figure he must have made there, on the bank! And he was going
+to bring home such a nice string of fish, too! I wonder if his mother did
+not laugh when she saw him coming. Did he stay there, father, shivering and
+crying, till some body came after him?"
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES, AFTER THE DUCKING.]
+
+"No, he started for home before any of the neighbors reached the spot where
+he fell into the river; and, as they missed him on the way, they supposed
+he was drowned, and searched for his body half an hour or more, till they
+learned he was safe at home."
+
+"Well, what did his mother say to him, father?"
+
+"She did not say much, poor woman. She was not well, as I said before, when
+Charles left her; and as her servant had gone away for a week, and she had
+no one but him to assist her in her work, she became very much fatigued;
+and when she heard that Charles had fallen into the river, she fainted
+immediately. She had hardly recovered when the boy reached the house."
+
+"I think Charles was a very bad boy."
+
+"Not so much worse than many others, perhaps, as you may suppose. You judge
+of the boy's conduct by the consequences of it. If he had been successful
+in his trout-fishing, and no accident had happened to his mother, you would
+not have thought half as much of his guilt in acting contrary to his
+mother's wishes."
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"But the boy would have been just as bad, for all that."
+
+"I can't see how, father."
+
+"Why, the boy, when he was thinking what he would do about going on that
+fishing excursion, could not have foreseen all that would happen if he
+went. Do you think he could?"
+
+"No, sir, not all, I suppose. But I am sure he was a very bad boy, whether
+he knew what would happen or not."
+
+"Yes, no doubt. But I want you to see exactly where his guilt lay. It was
+simply in his not yielding to his mother's wish, when she so kindly left
+him at liberty to do as he chose; especially as he knew she was ill, and
+needed his assistance."
+
+"Charley deserved a good whipping."
+
+"Well, he _was_ punished severely."
+
+"Did his mother punish him?"
+
+"No, for weeks she was too ill for that; and if she had been well, probably
+she would not have punished him."
+
+"How did he get punished?"
+
+"By his own conscience. He felt that he had done wrong, and that made him
+very unhappy. He saw, then, that he had been very unkind to his mother, and
+that his unkindness cost her pain and sorrow. He would rather have given
+all his playthings--every one of his toys--than to feel as he did then.
+Indeed, I think he would prefer the severest punishment from his mother, to
+the wound which his conscience inflicted. Do you understand now, my son,
+what is meant by conscience?"
+
+"I think I do. When we are sorry for any thing we have done, it is the
+conscience that makes us feel so."
+
+"Not always. Charles was no doubt very sorry he had tried to cross the
+river on the tree, because he fell into the water, and came near being
+drowned. But the conscience had nothing to do with this sorrow. When we see
+that we have carelessly or wilfully injured some one--hurt his feelings,
+perhaps--or when we reflect that we have disobeyed God, and feel grieved
+and sorry on this account, then the conscience is the cause of our pain. So
+you see that it is one of the numerous proofs of the wisdom and the
+goodness of God, that he has given mankind a conscience. Take care, my son,
+that you listen to its voice."
+
+
+
+
+                                 OLD NED.
+
+
+Not many years ago, Farmer Jones had an old horse named "Ned," who appeared
+to have almost as much sense as some people. Ned was a favorite with his
+master, who petted him as if he were a child instead of a dumb animal. The
+horse seemed to understand every word that the farmer said to him, and
+would obey him quite as readily and with as much intelligence as Rover, the
+house dog. If his master came into the field where he was grazing, Ned
+would come galloping up to meet him, and then caper round as playfully,
+though not, it must be owned, as gracefully, as a kitten.
+
+Farmer Jones, on these occasions, generally had an ear or two of corn in
+his pocket; and Ned, whose nose had been many a time in that capacious
+receptacle of odds and ends, after sweeping around his master two or three
+times, would stop short and come sideling up, half coquetishly, yet with a
+knowing twinkle in his eye, and commence a search for the little tidbit
+that he had good reason for knowing lay snugly stored away in the pocket.
+
+[Illustration: OLD NED.]
+
+If any one besides his master went into the field and tried to catch Ned,
+he was sure to have a troublesome time of it; and if he succeeded in his
+object before circling the field a dozen times in pursuit of the horse, he
+might think himself lucky. But a word or a motion of the hand from Farmer
+Jones was all-sufficient. Ned would become, instantly, as docile as a
+child, trot up to his side, and stand perfectly still to receive the saddle
+and bridle.
+
+When Farmer Jones was on the back of Ned, or sitting behind him in the old
+chaise, no horse could be more even in his gait, or more orderly in all his
+movements. But it wasn't safe for any one else to try the experiment of
+riding or driving him. If he escaped without a broken neck, he might think
+himself exceedingly fortunate; for the moment any one but his master
+attempted to govern his actions in any way, he became possessed with a
+spirit that was sometimes more than mischievous. He would kick up, bite,
+wheel suddenly around, rear up on his hind feet, and do almost every thing
+except go ahead in an orderly way, as a respectable horse ought to have
+done.
+
+Ned was too great a favorite with his master for the latter to think of
+trying very hard to correct him of these bad practices. He would talk to
+him, sometimes, about the folly of an old horse like him prancing about,
+and cutting up as many antics as a young colt; but his words, it was clear,
+went into one of Ned's ears and out of the other, as people say, for Ned
+did not in the least mend his manners, although he would nod his head in a
+knowing and obedient way, while his master was talking to him.
+
+Ned spent at least two thirds of his time, from the period when the grass
+sprung up, tender and green, until it became pale and crisp with frost, in
+a three-acre field belonging to his master, where he ate, walked about,
+rolled himself on the soft sward, or slept away the hours, as happy as a
+horse could be. Across one corner of this field a little boy and his sister
+used every day to go to school. The little boy was a namesake of the horse;
+but he was usually called Neddy. One day Neddy felt rather mischievous, as
+little boys will feel sometimes. He had a long willow switch in his hand,
+and was cutting away at every thing that came within his reach. He
+frightened a brood of chickens, and laughed merrily to see them scamper in
+every direction; he made an old hog grunt, and a little pig squeal, and was
+even so thoughtless as to strike with his slender switch a little lamb,
+that lay close beside its mother on the soft grass.
+
+"Don't, don't, Neddy," Jane, his sister, would say.
+
+But the little fellow gave no heed to her words. At last, in crossing the
+field, they came to where the old horse lay under the shade of a great
+walnut tree. The temptation to let him have a taste of the switch was too
+strong for Neddy to resist; so he passed up close to the horse, and gave
+him a smart cut across the shoulders.
+
+Now that was an indignity to which the old fellow was not prepared to
+submit. Why, it was at least ten years since the stroke of a whip had been
+felt upon his glossy skin. Whip and spur were of the times long since gone
+by. Springing up as quickly as if he were only a colt instead of a grave
+old horse, Ned elevated his mane, and swept angrily around the now
+frightened lad, neighing fiercely, and striking out into the air with his
+heels at a furious rate. Jane and Neddy ran, but the horse kept up, and by
+his acts threatening every moment to kill them. But, angry as the old
+fellow was, he did not really intend to harm the children, who at length
+reached the fence toward which they were flying. Jane got safely over, but
+just as Neddy was creeping through the bars, the horse caught hold of his
+loose coat, with his teeth, and pulled him back into the field, where he
+turned him over and over on the grass with his nose for half a dozen times,
+but without harming him in the least, and then let him go, and went
+trotting back to the cool, shady place under the old walnut tree, from
+which the switch of the thoughtless boy had aroused him.
+
+Neddy, you may be sure, was dreadfully frightened, and went crying home. On
+the next day, when they came to the field in which Ned lived at his ease
+and enjoyed himself, the old horse was grazing in a far-off corner, and the
+children thought they might safely venture to cross over. But they had only
+gained half the distance, when Ned espied them, and, with a loud neigh,
+gave chase at full gallop. The children ran, in great alarm, for the fence,
+and got through, safely, before the horse came up.
+
+After this, whenever they ventured to cross the field, Ned would interfere.
+Once he got Neddy's hat in his mouth, and ran off with it. But he didn't
+harm it any, and after keeping the children waiting at the fence for about
+half an hour, came and threw it over; after which he kicked up both his
+heels in a defiant manner, and giving a "horse laugh," scampered away as if
+a locomotive were after him.
+
+At last Neddy's father complained to Farmer Jones of the way in which his
+old horse was annoying the children, who had to pass through the field, as
+they went to school, or else be compelled to go a long distance out of
+their way. The farmer inquired the cause of Ned's strange conduct, and
+learned that the little boy cut him across the shoulders with a willow
+switch.
+
+"Ho! ho!" said he, "that's the trouble, is it? Ned won't bear a stroke from
+any one. But I will make up the matter between him and the children. So let
+them stop here on their way from school this evening."
+
+The children stopped accordingly. Ned was standing in the barn-yard, the
+very picture of demure innocence. But when he saw little Neddy and his
+sister, he pricked up his ears, shook his head, and neighed.
+
+"Come, come, old boy!" said the farmer, "we've had enough of that. You must
+learn to forgive and forget. The little fellow was only playing with you."
+
+Ned appeared to understand his master, for he looked a little ashamed of
+himself, and let his pointed ears fall back again to their old places.
+
+"Now, my little fellows," said Farmer Jones, "take up a handful of that
+sweet new hay, and call him to the bars."
+
+"I'm afraid," returned Neddy. "He'll bite me."
+
+"Not he. Why the old horse wouldn't harm a hair of your head. He was only
+trying to frighten you as a punishment for the stroke you gave him. Come.
+Now's your time to make friends."
+
+Neddy, thus encouraged, gathered a handful of the sweet new hay that was
+scattered around, and going up to the fence, held it out and called to the
+horse--
+
+"Here! Ned, Ned, Ned!"
+
+The horse shook his head, and stood still.
+
+"Come along, you old vagabond!" said Farmer Jones, in a voice of reproof.
+"Don't you see the lad's sorry for the cut he gave you? Now walk up to the
+bars, and forgive the little fellow, as a sensible horse ought to do."
+
+Ned no longer hesitated, but went up to the bars, where Neddy, half
+trembling, awaited him, and took the sweet morsel of hay from the child's
+hand. Jane, encouraged by this evidence of docility, put her hand on the
+animal's neck, and stroked his long head gently with her hand, while Neddy
+gathered handful after handful of hay, and stood close by the mouth of the
+old horse, as he ate it with the air of one who enjoyed himself.
+
+After that, the children could cross the field again as freely as before,
+and if Ned noticed them at all, it was in a manner so good natured as not
+to cause them the slightest uneasiness.
+
+
+
+
+                            THE FREED BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+  Yes, go, little butterfly,
+    Fan the warm air
+  With your soft silken pinions,
+    So brilliant and fair;
+  A poor, fluttering prisoner
+    No longer you'll be;
+  There! Out of the window!
+    You are free--you are free!
+
+  Go, rest on the bosom
+    Of some favorite flower;
+  Go, sport in the sunlight
+    Your brief little hour;
+  For your day, at the longest,
+    Is scarcely a span:
+  Then go and enjoy it;
+    Be gay while you can.
+
+  As for me, I have something
+    More useful to do:
+  I must work, I must learn--
+    Though I play sometimes, too.
+  All your days with the blossoms,
+    Bright thing, _you_ may spend;
+  They will close with the summer,
+    _Mine_ never shall end.
+
+
+
+
+                            JULIA AND HER BIRDS.
+
+
+Little Julia Cornish, a young friend of mine, is very fond of birds. It is
+no strange thing, I am aware, for children to love birds. Indeed, I do not
+see how any body can help loving the dear little things, especially those
+that fill the air with their music. But Julia was unusually fond of them,
+and her fondness showed itself in a great many ways. She did not shut them
+up in cages. But she was so kind to those that had their liberty, that many
+of them became quite as tame as if they had always lived in a cage.
+
+I must tell you about a robin that used to be a pet of hers. You know the
+robin, do you not, reader? To my mind he is one of the dearest of all our
+native songsters. His notes are among the first we hear in the spring. And
+he is a very social and confiding creature. How often he selects a place
+for his nest on some tree near the house! and when it is built, while his
+partner is busy with her domestic duties, he will sing for hours together
+his song of love and tenderness.
+
+Julia resided in the country; and every year the robins built their nests
+on the trees in her father's orchard, near the house. She fancied that the
+robins came from the South to her door, year after year, and brought their
+children with them. She was sure she could distinguish the voices of her
+old friends, and she used to sit under the shade of the trees where they
+had their nests, and talk to them kindly, and leave something good for them
+to eat.
+
+One year there were a pair of robins who made their nest on a tree, the
+boughs of which hung over the house; and Julia could sit in her window and
+see all that the little family were doing. She was delighted with such a
+token of confidence, and she and the robins soon became very intimate. The
+old ones frequently flew down from their nest, and alighted near the door,
+when Julia would give them as much food as they wanted, and let them carry
+some home to their children.
+
+By and by, the young robins were old enough to leave their nests. That was
+a great day with both parents and children, and all seemed about as merry
+as they could be when the half-fledged little birds took their first
+lessons in flying, though Julia laughed a good deal to see their
+manoeuvres, and said their motions were awkward enough. However, they
+learned to fly after a while, as well as their parents, though before they
+left for the season, some cruel boy threw a stone at one of them and broke
+his wing. Poor fellow! he suffered a great deal of pain, and his parents
+and brothers and sisters were very sad about it. They seemed for a while
+hardly to know what to do. Probably there were no surgeons among them, who
+understood how to manage broken limbs. And they had a long talk
+together--so Julia said--and finally hit upon this plan. Willy--that was
+the name my friend gave to the lame bird--was to go into the house, and see
+if something could not be done for him there.
+
+Accordingly, one bright morning in June, almost as soon as breakfast was
+over, the little invalid, attended by the rest of the family, came to the
+door, where Julia was waiting to receive them--for she fed them regularly
+every day--and then, after they had eaten what they wanted, instead of
+flying away, as they were accustomed to do, little Willy hopped into the
+kitchen, while the rest remained near the door. Julia thought that was
+queer enough, and she ran and told her mother. "I wonder if I can coax the
+little fellow to stay with me until his wing gets well," she said. "I wish
+I could. Oh, I should dearly love to take care of him, and I am sure we can
+make him well soon."
+
+[Illustration: JULIA'S PET ROBIN.]
+
+Little Willy did not say--at least he did not say in our language--that he
+should be happy to place himself awhile under his friend Julia's care. But
+he seemed very content, and soon made himself quite at home. Though he had
+perfect liberty to go just where he pleased, and would often venture out of
+the house, yet he evidently considered himself an inmate of Mr Cornish's
+family. Under the care especially of Miss Julia, he became so tame that she
+could take him in her lap and stroke his feathers. Willy was a great
+favorite in the family, after he had been there a day or two. No one did
+any thing for his wing. They did not understand setting birds' wings, when
+they were broken. Still, Willy got better in a very short time, without the
+assistance of a surgeon. A great many sick people, you know, need the care
+of a nurse more than that of a doctor. That was the case with Willy, it
+would seem. In less than three weeks his wing was entirely well, and he was
+able to take care of himself. So he warbled his adieu to the family under
+whose roof he had been so kindly treated, and flew away with the other
+robins who had been waiting for him.
+
+[Illustration: JULIA FEEDING THE BIRDS.]
+
+Julia is very kind, too, to the snow-birds in the winter. Many a time, when
+the snow has been deep, and these hungry birds have come to her father's
+door, I have seen her feeding them. One winter, I recollect, she had a
+flock of them that she could call to her, when she wanted to feed them,
+just as she could the chickens. The snow-bird is an interesting little
+creature; and though he has not a very sweet voice for singing, he was
+always a favorite with Julia, and I am not sure but I love the fellow as
+well as she does. Winter to me would be a great deal more gloomy, were it
+not for the Winter King, as Miss Gould calls this little bird.
+
+Did you know reader, that the snow-bird is a very affectionate creature? It
+seems that it is so. Some years ago one of them flew into a house, where,
+finding itself quite welcome, it remained over night. By accident, however,
+it was killed in the morning, and one of the servants threw it into the
+yard. In the course of the day, one of the family witnessed a most
+affecting scene in connection with the dead body. Its mate was standing
+beside it, mourning its loss. It placed its beak below the head of its
+companion, raised it up, and again warbled its song of mourning. By and by
+it flew away, and returned with a grain or two of wheat, which it dropped
+before its dead partner. Then it fluttered its wings, and endeavored to
+call the attention of the dead bird to the food. Again it flew away, again
+it returned, and used the same efforts as before. At last, it took up a
+kernel of the wheat, and dropped it into the beak of the dead bird. This
+was repeated several times. Then the poor bereaved one sang in the same
+plaintive strain as before. But the scene was too affecting for the lady
+who witnessed it. She could bear the sight no longer, and turned away. I
+have loved the snow-bird more than ever since this story was told me, and
+so has my friend Julia.
+
+Now I think of it, I have in one of the storerooms of my memory, a song
+about the snow-bird. It is rather simple and childish--possibly too much so
+for boys and girls of your age. However, as we are somewhat musical just
+now, after talking so much about birds, and are greatly in want of a song,
+I will sing this about Emily and the Snow-Bird, and you may join in the
+chorus, if you like.
+
+
+
+
+                          SONG OF THE SNOW-BIRD.
+
+
+I.
+  The ground was all cover'd with snow one day,
+  And two little sisters were busy at play,
+  When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree,
+  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de,
+  Chick-a-de-de, Chick-a-de-de,
+  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de.
+
+[Illustration: THE SISTERS AND THE SNOW-BIRD]
+
+II.
+
+  He had not been singing that tune very long,
+  Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song.--
+  "O sister! look out of the window," said she;
+  "Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+III.
+
+  "Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,
+  And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet;
+  I pity him so! how cold he must be!
+  And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+IV.
+
+  "If I were a barefooted snow-bird, I know
+  I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.--
+  I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;
+  He's all the time singing that chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+V.
+
+  "O mother! do get him some stockings and shoes,
+  And a nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose;
+  I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see
+  How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de."
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VI.
+
+  The bird had flown down for some pieces of bread,
+  And heard every word little Emily said;
+ "How queer I would look hi that dress!" thought he;
+  And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VII.
+
+  "I'm grateful," he said, "for the wish you express,
+  But I've no occasion for such a fine dress;
+  I had rather remain with my limbs all free,
+  Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+VIII.
+
+  "There is ONE, my dear child, tho' I cannot tell who,
+  Has clothed me already, and warm enough too--
+  Good morning! O, who are so happy as we?"--
+  And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.
+          Chick-a-de-de, &c.
+
+
+
+
+                           EDGAR AND WILLIAM;
+                        OR HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.
+
+
+"Here! lend me your knife, Bill; I've left mine in the house," said Edgar
+Harris to his younger brother. He spoke in a rude voice, and his manner was
+imperative.
+
+"No, I won't! Go and get your own knife," replied William, in a tone quite
+as ungracious as that in which the request, or rather command, had been
+made.
+
+"I don't wish to go into the house. Give me your knife, I say. I only want
+it for a minute."
+
+"I never lend my knife, nor give it, either," returned William. "Get your
+own."
+
+"You are the most disobliging fellow I ever saw," retorted Edgar, angrily,
+rising up and going into the house to get his own knife. "Don't ever ask me
+for a favor, for I'll never grant it."
+
+This very unbrotherly conversation took place just beneath the window near
+which Mr Harris, the father of the lads, was seated. He overheard it all,
+and was grieved, as may be supposed, that his sons should treat each other
+so unkindly. But he said nothing to them then, nor did he let them know
+that he heard the language that had passed between them.
+
+In a little while Edgar returned, and as he sat down in the place where he
+had been seated before, he said,
+
+"No thanks to you for your old knife! Keep it to yourself, in welcome. I
+wouldn't use it now, if you were to give it to me."
+
+"I'm glad you are so independent," retorted William. "I hope you will
+always be so."
+
+And the boys fretted each other for some time.
+
+[Illustration: THE TWO BROTHERS AT PLAY.]
+
+On the next day, Edgar was building a house with sticks, and William was
+rolling a hoop. By accident the hoop was turned from its right course, and
+broke down a part of Edgar's house. William was just going to say how sorry
+he was for the accident, and to offer to repair the damage that was done,
+when his brother, with his face red with passion, cried out--
+
+"Just see what you have done! If you don't clear out with your hoop, I'll
+call father. You did it on purpose."
+
+"Do go and call him! I'll go with you," said William, in a sneering,
+tantalizing tone. "Come, come along now."
+
+For a little while the boys stood and growled at each other like two
+ill-natured dogs, and then Edgar commenced repairing his house, and William
+went to rolling his hoop again. The latter was strongly tempted to repeat,
+in earnest, what he had done at first by accident, by way of retaliation
+upon his brother for his spiteful manner toward him; but, being naturally
+of a good disposition, and forgiving in his temper, he soon forgot his bad
+feelings, and enjoyed his play as much as he had done before.
+
+This little circumstance Mr Harris had also observed.
+
+A day or two afterward, Edgar came to his father with a complaint against
+his brother.
+
+"I never saw such a boy," he said. "He won't do the least thing to oblige
+me. If I ask him to lend me his knife, or ball, or any thing he has, he
+snaps me up short with a refusal."
+
+"Perhaps you don't ask him right," suggested the father. "Perhaps you don't
+speak kindly to him. I hardly think that William is ill-disposed and
+disobliging naturally. There must be some fault on your part, I am sure."
+
+"I don't know how I can be in fault, father," said Edgar.
+
+"William refused to let you have his knife, the other day, although he was
+not using it himself, did he not?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you remember how you asked him for it?"
+
+"No, sir, not now, particularly."
+
+"Well, as I happened to overhear you, I can repeat your words, though I
+hardly think I can get your very tone and manner. Your words were, 'Here,
+lend me your knife, Bill!' and your voice and manner were exceedingly
+offensive. I did not at all wonder that William refused your request. If
+you had spoken to him in a kind manner, I am sure he would have handed you
+his knife, instantly. But no one likes to be ordered, in a domineering way,
+to do any thing at all. I know you would resent it in William, as quickly
+as he resents it in you. Correct your own fault, my son, and in a little
+while you will have no complaint to make of William."
+
+Edgar felt rebuked. What his father said he saw to be true.
+
+"Whenever you want William to do any thing for you," continued the father,
+"use kind words instead of harsh ones, and you will find him as obliging as
+you could wish. I have observed you both a good deal, and I notice that you
+rarely ever speak to William in a proper manner, but are rude and
+overbearing. Correct this evil in yourself, and all will be right with him.
+Kind words are far more powerful than harsh words, and their effect a
+hundred-fold greater."
+
+On the next day, as Edgar was at work in the garden, and William standing
+at the gate, looking on, Edgar wanted a rake that was in the summer-house.
+He was just going to say, "Go and get me that rake, Bill!" but he checked
+himself, and made his request in a different form, and in a better tone
+than those words would have been uttered in.
+
+"Won't you get me the small rake that lies in the summer-house, William?"
+he said. The words and tone involved a request, not a command, and William
+instantly replied--
+
+"Certainly;" and bounded away to get the rake for his brother.
+
+"Thank you," said Edgar, as he received the rake.
+
+"Don't you want the watering-pot?" asked William.
+
+"Yes, I do; and you may bring it full of water, if you please," was the
+reply.
+
+Off William went for the watering-pot, and soon returned with it full of
+water. As he stood near one of Edgar's flower-beds, he forgot himself, and
+stepped back with his foot upon a bed of pansies.
+
+"There! just look at you!" exclaimed Edgar, thrown off his guard.
+
+William, who had felt drawn toward his brother on account of his kind
+manner, was hurt at this sudden change in his words and tone. He was
+tempted to retort harshly, and even to set his foot more roughly upon the
+pansies. But he checked himself, and, turning away, walked slowly from the
+garden.
+
+Edgar, who had repented of his rude words and unkind manner the moment he
+had time to think, was very sorry that he had been thrown off his guard,
+and resolved to be more careful in the future. And he was more careful. The
+next time he spoke to his brother, it was in a kind and gentle manner, and
+he saw its effect. Since then, he has been watchful over himself, and now
+he finds that William is one of the most obliging boys any where to be
+found.
+
+"So much for kind words, my son," said his father, on noticing the great
+change that had taken place. "Never forget, throughout your whole life,
+that kind words are far more potent than harsh ones. I have found them so,
+and you have already proved the truth of what I say."
+
+And so will every one who tries them. Make the experiment, young friends,
+and you will find it to succeed in every case.
+
+
+
+
+                 PASSING FOR MORE THAN ONE IS WORTH.
+
+
+The other day I had occasion to pay a man half a dollar, and gave him a
+dollar bank note, for which he gave me in exchange two silver pieces that I
+supposed to be worth twenty-five cents each. One of the pieces, however, I
+found afterward would only go for sixteen or seventeen cents. It was not a
+quarter of a dollar, though it looked very much like one. It had passed for
+some eight or nine cents more than it was worth. Well, that was an affair
+of very little consequence, you say. True enough, but I am going to take
+hold of something else with this handle, that may be of more consequence.
+
+There are a great many folks in the world who, like this pistareen, pass
+themselves off, or try to pass themselves off, for more than their real
+value. It is bad business, though; and they always feel _cheap_ when
+they get found out, as they are sure to be in the end.
+
+Did you ever see a dandy under a full press of canvas, as the sailors say,
+showing himself off on one of the principal streets of a city--on Broadway,
+for instance, in New York? He was trying to pass himself off for more than
+his worth. And no doubt he succeeded, too, in some instances. By the way,
+do you know what definition Webster gives of a dandy in his large
+dictionary? It is worth remembering. Suppose we turn to it. "A dandy," says
+he, "is one who dresses himself like a doll, and carries his character on
+his back." It is a most capital definition; but the silly fellow will pass
+for something else where he is not known. He will make a great swell, and
+some people will believe he is a gentleman. Indeed, it would not be strange
+if he should pass himself off, one of these days, upon some young lady who
+is quite ignorant of this kind of currency, as an Italian count, or,
+perhaps, the marquis of this or the duke of that. There is no telling. But
+if she takes him for a cent more than Webster rates him at, she gets
+cheated, depend upon it. He is not worth the clothes on his back. He has to
+cross the street sometimes, to get rid of being dunned by his tailor; and
+he has been two or three hours trying to find a barber who will trust him.
+He's nothing but a pistareen, and hardly that.
+
+Some people pass themselves off for being very learned, when they are as
+ignorant as a horse-block. But, oh! such mistakes as they make sometimes;
+it is enough to set one into a fit of laughter, only to think of some of
+them. I know a miss, who tries to pass herself off for a great reader, when
+the truth is, she has only dipped up a spoon-full, here and there, from a
+score or two of authors, and has not the slightest idea about the merits of
+any of them. Some one came up with her nicely the other night, at a party.
+He had suspicions, I suppose, that she was trying to pass for too much; at
+all events, he asked her a great many roundabout questions, which she was
+obliged to answer, and in doing so she let out the secret. Every body saw
+what sort of a coin she was, at once.
+
+What fools some folks make of themselves, by attempting to pass for more
+than they are worth, in the matter of dollars and cents. It is said, that
+in the city of New York there are a good many poor fellows that can
+scarcely get enough money to appear in a respectable suit of clothes, who
+will buy a dinner in some cheap eating-house for sixpence, and then pick
+their teeth on the door-steps of the Astor House, to make people think they
+have dined there. And that is not any worse than some would-be genteel
+people manage when the warm season comes on, every year. They close their
+front window blinds, and steal into and out of their houses like thieves,
+or dogs that have just had a flogging, so that their neighbors will think
+they have gone to Saratoga, or Rockaway, or some other fashionable summer
+retreat. They take a good deal of pains to pass for so much more than they
+are worth--do they not, little friend? They only go for pistareens, though,
+where they are known.
+
+One sometimes comes across a public speaker--a lawyer--possibly a
+preacher--who displays his eloquence by using all sorts of long and
+out-of-the-way words. A man may be listening ever so quietly and
+innocently, and the first thing he knows, down comes a word about his ears
+half as long as his arm almost, and half as heavy as a mallet. That is what
+the orator calls a _knock-down_ argument; and when he wishes to be
+particularly convincing and eloquent, he throws at you such brick-bats and
+bars of iron as incomprehensibility--epexegetically--anthropopathically--so
+fast that you have scarcely a chance to dodge one before another comes
+whizzing along. Of course, you are confounded with the man's assault and
+battery, and if you are a thinking person, perhaps fall to musing how such
+monstrous words can come out of a man's throat whole, without choking him,
+or themselves splitting to pieces. When I hear a public speaker going on in
+that way, I generally think that the poor fellow is making up in big words
+what he lacks in brains, and if I could whisper a small word or two in his
+ear, I should be apt to say, "That will never do, sir. You can't pass
+yourself off for a great scholar with this clap-trap. You are nothing but a
+pistareen, and rather smooth at that. You are, indeed. Those big words that
+we have to bend up and twist around to get into our coat-pockets, will not
+go for sense. So pray be quiet, and not attempt to pass for any more than
+you are honestly worth, which is little enough, to be sure."
+
+I have known boys and girls at school attempt to pass for more than their
+real value. Whenever I hear a boy asking somebody to write a composition
+for him, or to help him write one, which he intends to palm off as his own,
+or see him jog the boy that sits next him in the school-room, to get some
+help in reciting a bad lesson, I think of the pistareen, and want very much
+to caution the little fellow not to pass for more than he is worth. And it
+makes very little difference that I know of, whether it is a boy or a girl.
+It seems just as bad in one case as it does in the other.
+
+It happens once in a while that a young lady puts on a great many charms
+that are not natural to her, and uses every kind of deception, just for the
+sake of being admired, or, perhaps, to get a good husband. It is bad
+business, though. Sensible men are not often caught with such a trap; and
+if they are, when they find out how the matter stands--and they will find
+it out sooner or later--they despise the trick as one of the meanest that
+was ever invented. I have a notion, too, that this kind of deception is
+pretty common among young gentlemen, as well as young ladies. But it is a
+miserable business, whoever may work at it. It never turns out well in the
+end, if it does after a fashion at first. It is a great deal better to be
+natural, and to act like one's self. This passing for more than one is
+worth, to buy a husband or a wife, as the case may be, don't pay, as the
+merchant says.
+
+Some people work like a horse in a bark-mill, to make every body believe
+they are most excellent Christians, very nearly as pious as the angel
+Gabriel, when the truth is, their religion is all sham, and they will lie
+and cheat as bad as any body, if they think they will not be found out.
+Whenever I see one of this class, trying with all his might to pass for a
+saint, with his face as long as a yard-stick, or, perhaps, all lighted up
+with kindly smiles, I can't help thinking of the pistareen. It will come
+into my mind in spite of all I can do. Why, all the time the man is putting
+on these airs, he is plotting some scheme for selfish gain, or some
+mischief, just as likely as not. "He does not rise toward heaven like the
+lark, to make music, but like the hawk, to dart down upon his prey. If he
+goes up the Mount of Olives to kneel in prayer, he is about to build an
+oil-mill up there. If he weeps by the brook Kedron, he is making ready to
+fish for eels, or else to drown somebody in the stream." Poor man! he has a
+hard time of it, trying to keep up appearances. But it will be harder
+still, by and by, if he does not look out. He cannot carry his mask with
+him into the other world. There no one will pass for any more than he is
+worth.
+
+
+
+
+                        LAMENT OF THE INVALID.
+
+
+  The earth is arrayed in the robes of spring,
+    And by the soft zephyr the green leaves are stirred;
+  With the wood-bird's note the pine forests ring,
+    And the voice of the robin's glad music is heard.
+
+  I see my companions abroad on the plain,
+    But the beauties of spring, they are not for me.
+  Oh! when shall I leave my dull prison again?
+    I am pining to roam 'mid the wild flowers free.
+
+  O green is the turf in the wildwood now,
+    And my spirit flies from the dwellings of men,
+  Where the wind blows soft through the cedar's bough,
+    And the voice of the streamlet is heard from the glen.
+
+  This dim-lighted chamber I long to resign
+    For my cherish'd retreat, 'neath the wide-spreading tree.
+  Through the long, long hours of day I pine
+    For the breath of the flowers and the hum of the bee.
+
+  No, not for me are the beauties of spring,
+    Nor the zephyr that sighs in the cedar's bough;
+  The birds of the forest all sweetly may sing,
+    But not for my ear is their music now.
+
+  Yet, merciful Father! I will not complain;
+    My hopes are all centred on heaven and Thee;
+  I know that thy grace will my spirit sustain--
+    I ask not for more--'tis sufficient for me.
+
+
+
+
+                       THE USE OF FLOWERS[1].
+
+
+[Footnote 1: See the frontispiece.]
+
+
+Just one moment longer, cousin Mary, I want to put this flower in your
+hair. Now doesn't it look sweet, sister Aggy?"
+
+"Oh, yes! very sweet. And here is the dearest little bud I ever saw. I took
+it from the sweet-briar bush in the lane. Put that, too, in cousin Mary's
+hair."
+
+Little Florence, seeing what was going on, was soon, also, at work upon
+Mary's hair, that, in a little while, was covered with buds and blossoms.
+
+"Now she is our May Queen," said the children, as they hung fondly around
+their cousin, who had come out into the country to enjoy a few weeks of
+rural quiet, in the season of fruits and flowers. "And our May Queen must
+sing us a song," said Agnes, who was sitting at the feet of her cousin.
+"Sing us something about flowers."
+
+"Oh, yes!" spoke up Grace, "sing us that beautiful piece by Mrs Howitt,
+about the use of flowers. You sang it for us, you remember, the last time
+you were here."
+
+Cousin Mary sang as desired. After she had concluded, she said--
+
+"Flowers, according to these beautiful verses, are only useful as objects
+to delight our senses. They are only beautiful forms in nature--their
+highest use, their beauty and fragrance."
+
+"I think that is what Mrs Howitt means," replied Grace. "So I have always
+understood her. And I cannot see any other use that flowers have. Do you
+know of any other use, cousin?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Flowers have a more important use than merely giving delight to
+the senses. Without them, plants could not produce fruit and seed. You
+notice that the flower always comes before the fruit?"
+
+"Oh, yes. But why is a flower needed? Why does not the fruit push itself
+directly out from the stem of a plant?" asked Agnes.
+
+"Flowers are the most exquisitely delicate in their texture of all forms in
+the vegetable kingdom. Look at the petals of this one. Could any thing be
+softer or finer? The leaf, the bark, and the wood of the plant are all
+coarse, in comparison to the flower. Now, as nothing is made in vain, there
+must be some reason for this. The leaves and bark, as well as wood, of
+plants, all have vessels through which sap flows, and this sap nourishes,
+sustains, and builds up the plant, as our blood does our bodies. But the
+whole effort of the plant is to reproduce itself; and to this end it forms
+seed, which, when cast into the ground, takes root, springs up, and makes a
+new plant. To form this seed, requires the purest juices of the plant, and
+these are obtained by means of the flowers, through the exquisitely fine
+vessels of which these juices are filtered, or strained, and thus separated
+from all that is gross and impure."
+
+"I never thought of that before," said Agnes. "Flowers, then, are useful,
+as well as beautiful."
+
+"Nothing is made for mere beauty. All things in nature regard use as an
+end. To flowers are assigned a high and important use, and exquisite beauty
+of form and color is at the same time given to them; and with these our
+senses are delighted. They are, in more respects than one, good gifts from
+our heavenly Father."
+
+"Oh! how I do love the flowers," said Agnes; "and now, when I look upon
+them, and think of their use as well as their beauty, I will love them
+still more. Are they so very beautiful because their use is such an
+important one, cousin Mary?"
+
+"Yes, dear; I believe this is so. In the seeds of plants there is an image
+of the infinity of our great Creator; for in seeds resides a power, or an
+effort, to reproduce the plants, that lie concealed as gems within them, to
+infinity. We might naturally enough suppose that flowers, whose use it is
+to refine and prepare the juices of plants, so as to free them from all
+grosser matters, and make them fit for the important office of developing
+and maturing seeds, would be exceedingly delicate in their structure, and,
+as a natural consequence, beautiful to look upon. And we will believe,
+therefore, that their peculiar beauty depends upon their peculiar use."
+
+
+
+
+                           SLIDING DOWN HILL.
+
+
+Say what you will--talk about cold hands, feet, and noses, as much as you
+please--there are about as fine sports in winter as we get in the whole
+year. There is something very exciting in snow. A snow storm acts like
+electricity upon the spirits of the boys--and girls too, for that matter.
+How busy we used to be, on Saturday afternoon, when there was no school, as
+soon as the first flakes of snow had whitened the ground, making new sleds,
+and mending up old ones.
+
+Our southern readers know very little about these sports of winter. I have
+a good mind to enlighten them a little. Imagine, my young friends--you who
+live so near the tropics that snow and ice are objects of
+curiosity--imagine, if you can, the earth covered to the depth of two feet
+or more with snow. In some places, the drifts are as high as your head, and
+higher too. When it first falls, the particles are loosely thrown together;
+but a warm sun or a little shower of rain melts them down a little, and
+then comes a night cold enough to freeze up your mouth, if you don't look
+out, and the surface of the snow becomes hard and slippery. Then such a
+time as the boys have sliding down hill--why, it is worth coming up as far
+north as New York, and running the risk of having your fingers frozen a
+little, to see them at it, and take a few trips down the hill.
+
+[Illustration: SLIDING DOWN HILL.]
+
+A sled constructed for this purpose is a very simple thing. I will sketch
+one for you. Here it is, and a boy carrying it up the hill.
+
+When the boy gets to the top of the hill, he sometimes lies and sometimes
+sits up on his sled, and lets it go. It finds its way down, without any of
+the boy's help, you may depend upon it. He has to guide it a little with
+his feet, though. If he did not, he might come in contact with another
+boy's sled, or a rock, perhaps; and that would be rather a serious joke,
+when the sled was going like the cars on a railroad.
+
+Sometimes there are a dozen boys, all or nearly all with a sled of their
+own, sliding down the same hill at once. In fact, we used to have the whole
+school at it, now and then, when I was a little boy. It was a merry time
+then, you may be sure. Occasionally we would have a large sled, which it
+took three or four boys to draw up the hill. Then half a dozen of us would
+get on, and slide down in advance of the wind, it seemed to me--for it was
+so swift that I scarcely could breathe--until we came up all standing in a
+huge snow bank.
+
+Sometimes, when we were half way down, and our locomotive was under a full
+pressure of steam, a boy would fall off, and, not being able to check the
+force he received from the sled, would go down to the bottom of the hill in
+a manner calculated to raise a very stormy concert of laughter from the
+rest of the boys. And the poor John Gilpin enjoyed the fun, too, or tried
+to enjoy it, as much as any of them, though he did not laugh quite so
+heartily; and he could well be pardoned for not doing that, certainly,
+until he had got to the end of his ludicrous race.
+
+I can recollect a great many funny adventures connected with sliding down
+hill. I don't know that I ever laughed more in my life at any one time,
+than I did once at a feat of Jack Mason's. Jack was a courageous
+fellow--one of the most daring boys in the whole school. Some thirty or
+forty of us were one bright Saturday afternoon sliding down a fine hill,
+with a good level valley at its foot, when Jack challenged the boys to go
+down the other side, which was a great deal steeper, and which had an
+immense drift of snow at the bottom. No one dared to do it. We all thought
+it would be rather too serious business. Jack surveyed the ground for a few
+minutes, and screwed his courage up to the highest point. "I am going
+down," said he. We tried to dissuade him, but it was of no use. When Jack
+had made up his mind, you might as well attempt to turn the course of the
+north wind as to turn him. The words were no sooner out of his mouth, than
+down he went, like an arrow. We trembled for him, and held our breath
+almost, as we watched his sled; for it used to be a proverb with us, that
+Jack would break his neck one of these days, and we were not without our
+fears that the day had come.
+
+Down went Jack on his sled, and in a few moments he was plunged in the snow
+bank out of sight. We all ran down to dig him out, scarcely daring to hope
+we should find him alive. We worked like beavers for a considerable time,
+and found nothing of the poor adventurer. At last, more than a rod from
+where he entered the bank, up popped Jack, as white with snow as if he had
+been into a flour barrel, tugging his sled after him, and grinning like a
+right merry fellow, as he was. Take it all in all, it was one of the most
+laughable sights I ever saw; and now as I write, and a sort of a
+daguerreotype likeness of Jack, just emerging, like a ghost, from that snow
+bank, comes up to my mind, I have to stop and laugh almost as heartily as I
+did at the scene itself, when it occurred.
+
+
+
+
+                      A GARDEN OVERRUN WITH WEEDS.
+
+
+"Father, I don't like to go to school," said Harry Williams, one
+morning. "I wish you would let me always stay at home. Charles Parker's
+father don't make him go to school."
+
+Mr Williams took his little boy by the hand, and said kindly to him, "Come,
+my son, I want to show you something in the garden."
+
+Harry walked into the garden with his father, who led him along until they
+came to a bed in which peas were growing, the vines supported by thin
+branches that had been placed in the ground. Not a weed was to be seen
+about their roots, nor even disfiguring the walk around the bed in which
+they had been planted.
+
+"See how beautifully these peas are growing, my son," said Mr Williams.
+"How clean and healthy the vines look. We shall have an abundant crop. Now
+let me show you the vines in Mr Parker's garden. We can look at them
+through a great hole in his fence."
+
+Mr Williams then led Harry through the garden gate and across the road, to
+look at Mr Parker's pea vines through the hole in the fence. The bed in
+which they were growing was near to the road; so they had no difficulty in
+seeing it. After looking into the garden for a few moments, Mr Williams
+said--
+
+"Well, my son, what do you think of Mr Parker's pea vines?"
+
+"Oh, father!" replied the little boy; "I never saw such poor looking peas
+in my life! There are no sticks for them to run upon, and the weeds are
+nearly as high as the peas themselves. There won't be half a crop!"
+
+"Why are they so much worse than ours, Harry?"
+
+"Because they have been left to grow as they pleased. I suppose Mr Parker
+just planted them, and never took any care of them afterward. He has
+neither taken out the weeds, nor helped them to grow right."
+
+"Yes, that is just the truth, my son. A garden will soon be overrun with
+weeds and briars, if it is not cultivated with the greatest care. And just
+so it is with the human garden. This precious garden must be trained and
+watered, and kept free from weeds, or it will run to waste. Children's
+minds are like garden beds; and they must be as carefully tended, and even
+more carefully, than the choicest plants. If you, my son, were never to go
+to school, nor have good seeds of knowledge planted in your mind, it would,
+when you become a man, resemble the weed-covered, neglected bed we have
+just been looking at, instead of the beautiful one in my garden. Would you
+think me right to neglect my garden as Mr Parker neglects his?"
+
+"Oh, no, father; your garden is a good garden, but Mr Parker's is all
+overrun with weeds and briars. It won't yield half as much as yours will."
+
+"Or, my son, do you think I would be right if I neglected my son as Mr
+Parker neglects his son, allowing him to run wild, and his mind,
+uncultivated, to become overgrown with weeds?"
+
+Little Harry made no reply; but he understood pretty clearly what his
+father meant.
+
+"I send you to school," Mr Williams continued, "in order that the garden
+of your mind may have good seeds sown in it, and that these seeds may
+spring up and grow, and produce plentifully. Now which would you prefer, to
+stay at home from school, and so let the garden of your mind be overrun
+with weeds, or go to school, and have this garden cultivated?"
+
+"I would rather go to school," said Harry. "But, father, is Charles
+Parker's mind overrun with weeds?"
+
+"I am afraid that it is. If not, it certainly will be, if his father does
+not send him to school. For a little boy not to be sent to school, is a
+great misfortune, and I hope you will think the privilege of going to
+school a very great one indeed."
+
+Harry Williams listened to all his father said, and, what was better,
+thought about it, too. He never again asked to stay home from school.
+
+
+
+
+                            JULIAN PARMELEE;
+                  OR DISAPPOINTMENT SOMETIMES A BLESSING.
+
+
+In a pleasant New England village, several years ago, there was a good deal
+of excitement produced among the little folks, by the appearance, on the
+sign-post, and in the tavern and store, of some large placards, with very
+curious and funny pictures upon them. These placards made known the
+important fact, that, for the sum of ninepence, (a shilling, according to
+the currency of New York,) any boy and girl in the vicinity might have the
+pleasure of seeing some of the most astonishing feats of trained animals
+ever heard of. On a certain day there was to be a sort of juggler, who
+would play on some kind of instruments. The music made by this man would
+have the power of charming the animals--so the advertisement read--and the
+instant they heard it, they would commence playing their antics. There was
+a great black bear who would stand on his head; a dog who knew almost as
+much as his master; a cock that could walk on a pair of high stilts. Then
+there were learned monkeys, learned pigs, and I know not what besides.
+
+[Illustration: THE "SHOW."]
+
+The pictures of these different animals, performing their several exploits,
+caused a great deal of wonder and admiration among the village boys and
+girls. In cities, where such exhibitions occur very frequently, such things
+would not be much thought of. But it is very different in the country,
+where public exhibitions of every sort are "like angels' visits, few and
+far between." For nearly a week before the day appointed for this juggling
+exhibition, there was nothing talked of in this quiet village so much as
+the "show." Ninepences that had been a twelvemonth in accumulating, were
+now in great demand; and more than one boy sighed as he reflected that he
+had spent his pennies in candies and other nice things, so that he had none
+left for the "show," and secretly resolved that he would be wiser next
+time, and not allow his money to slip through his fingers so easily.
+
+Among those who had the permission of their parents to visit the
+exhibition, and who were anxiously longing for the day to come, were Julian
+Parmelee and his sister. Julian, especially--a boy of about nine years of
+age--was almost crazy with delight, when his mother told him he might go.
+He jumped, danced, clapped his hands, shouted, and went through so many
+strange manoeuvres, that his elder brother George, who was rather more
+sober on the occasion, said he guessed he should not go to the court-house
+and pay ninepence to see the show, for he was in a fair way to get the
+exhibition at home, for nothing.
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Julian, "do you really believe the bear will stand on
+his head? What a funny sight it must be! I wonder if they keep the bear
+chained. I shall take care I do not get within reach of his paws, I guess.
+Charley Staples said he didn't believe it was half so big as the one he saw
+when he was up in Vermont. How big is it, mother? as big as our Carlo? Oh,
+I wish it was time to go now! I should think monkeys were very funny
+creatures. They say there is one in the show that rides a horse, just like
+a man. Ha! ha! ha!" And he laughed so loudly that he waked up the baby in
+the cradle.
+
+I do not wonder at all that little Julian was so much delighted with the
+idea of going to this exhibition. It was something entirely new to him; and
+to children, especially, such singular feats as these animals were to
+perform, are always entertaining. It may, however, admit of a question,
+whether it is right, just for our amusement, to inflict so much pain upon
+these poor creatures as is necessary to teach them their several parts.  It
+seems rather cruel.  You know what the frogs once said to the boys,
+according to the fable, in the matter of stoning: "Young gentlemen, you do
+not consider, that while this is sport to you, it is death to us."  These
+poor bears, and monkeys, and other animals, while they are going through
+their education, might use some such language to their teachers, perhaps,
+if they had the same faculty that the fable ascribes to the frogs.  But,
+however that may be, it was very natural that Julian should be half frantic
+at the thought of seeing the show, and quite as natural that Julian's
+father and mother should consent to let him go.
+
+Well, some two days before the exhibition was to take place, Julian was
+taken sick.  There is a class of diseases--such as the measles and the
+whooping-cough--which, you know, almost every boy and girl must have some
+time or another; and it is not always left with the children to decide
+precisely when they shall take their turn.  One of these diseases had made
+Julian a call, and insisted on staying with him a week or two.  It was the
+whooping-cough.  Julian wanted to be excused for a few days; but the old
+fellow told him, in his wheezing way, that he could not think of letting
+him off so long.  Julian was disappointed, and cried a good deal.  It did
+seem rather hard that he must be caged up in his chamber just at this time.
+ He was not so sick as to make it necessary to stay at home; but his mother
+thought it would be wrong to allow him to go where there were to be so many
+other children, because they would be in danger of taking the disease from
+him.  So it was decided that he could not see the "show;" and he fretted
+and stormed, and made himself very unhappy.  He was usually a good-natured
+boy, but it must be confessed, that he was now quite out of humor.
+
+"I don't see what I'm sick for, just when I wanted to go to the 'show.'  I
+declare, it is too bad.  And the whooping-cough, too!  If it was any thing
+else, I could go.  What under the sun--"
+
+"There, Julian, that will do, I think," said his mother, kindly.
+
+Julian checked himself, but he could hardly help muttering something about
+its being "very provoking."
+
+Mrs Parmelee was silent for a while, until the peevishness of her child had
+a little time to subside, and then she said--
+
+"My dear child, I am sorry that you should feel so; for you not only make
+yourself unhappy, but you are finding fault with God, and you know that is
+very wrong.  God had something to do with your sickness.  He could very
+easily have prevented it, if he had chosen to do so.  But he did not choose
+to prevent it, and--"
+
+"Well, why didn't he prevent it, mother?"
+
+"Hear me through, my child.  If he allowed you to be sick, when he could
+have kept you well, then it is certain that, on the whole, he would rather
+you would be sick.  You see this, don't you, Julian?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am.  God made me sick, didn't he?"
+
+"There's no doubt that all diseases are under his control."
+
+"Then, mama, I am sure that God--"
+
+"Not quite so fast. I want you to see what you was doing, when you was
+so peevish a little while ago. You was very much out of humor. Indeed, I
+think you showed some anger."
+
+"Oh, no, mother, I was not angry."
+
+"Perhaps not, my child; but what would you call that spirit, if it was
+not anger?"
+
+"I was--I was--provoked--I mean vexed, mama."
+
+"Well, who vexed you?"
+
+"Nobody; it was the whooping-cough."
+
+"I'm very sorry that my child should get into such a passion--or
+vexation, whichever it may be--with the whooping-cough; for you say that
+you suppose the disease was under the control of God, so that it must
+have been rather an innocent sort of thing, after all. If you should
+fall into the mill-pond, and a man standing on the shore should let you
+struggle a while before he helped you out, you would get vexed, wouldn't
+you?"
+
+"I guess I should."
+
+"You would certainly have as much reason for vexation as you have had
+this morning. But would you be likely to get vexed with the water?"
+
+"Why, no, mama. I should be provoked with the man, because he didn't
+help me out."
+
+"I thought so. Well, then, don't you think you found fault with God, in
+this matter of the whooping-cough?"
+
+"It may be so."
+
+"It must be so."
+
+Little Julian was a thoughtful child. He saw that this spirit of
+peevishness was very wrong, and that he had murmured against God. He
+told his mother that he hoped he should not do so any more. He was
+silent for some minutes, and then said--
+
+"There is one thing I would like to know about, mother; but it may be I
+ought not to ask."
+
+"What is it, Julian?" asked his mother.
+
+"If God is kind, and if he loves us, why does he let us get sick? I am
+sure you would keep me well all the time, if you could, because you love
+me, and because you are good and kind."
+
+"I am glad you asked that question, Julian. There are a great many
+things which we cannot understand about the government of God. But I
+think I can explain this to you. God, it is true, often disappoints us,
+and gives us pain, and makes us weep. This would all seem very strange,
+and almost unkind, if we did not know that God has some other end in
+view besides making us happy in this life. He is training us for another
+world; and if you live to be a man, you will see that such
+disappointments as this of yours, for a part of God's plan of fitting
+his children for heaven."
+
+"But I think we should be just as good, if he did not make us feel bad
+and cry."
+
+"That is your mistake. Do you think you would be just as good a child,
+if your parents always humored you, and gave you every plaything you
+asked for? Are you quite sure that you would now mind your father and
+mother as well, if you had always been allowed to have your own way?"
+
+"But you don't make me sick, mother."
+
+"True. We correct you in another way. But we sometimes give you pain,
+and make you cry. Did you ever think, when your father reproved you and
+punished you, that it was because he did not love you?"
+
+"Oh, no, mother."
+
+"You can see how your father can be kind and affectionate, and still
+give you pain?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then cannot you see how God may disappoint _his_ children, and
+even make them unhappy for a time, and love them tenderly, too?"
+
+"Oh, mother, I see it all now! I wonder I never thought of this before!
+Well, the whooping-cough is not so bad, after all. I've learned
+something by it, at any rate."
+
+"Yes, and it may be worth a great deal more to you than the 'show' would
+have been."
+
+
+
+
+                   THE OLD MAN AT THE COTTAGE DOOR.
+
+
+  Come, faint old man! and sit awhile
+    Beside our cottage door;
+  A cup of water from the spring,
+    A loaf to bless the poor,
+  We give with cheerful hearts, for God
+    Hath given us of his store.
+
+  Too feeble, thou, for daily toil,
+    Too weak to earn thy bread--
+  For th' weight of many, many years,
+    Lies heavy on thy head--
+  A wanderer, want, thy weary feet,
+    Hath to our cottage led.
+
+  Come rest awhile. 'Twill not be long,
+    Ere thy faint head shall know
+  A deeper, calmer, better rest,
+    Than cometh here below;
+  When He, who loveth every one,
+    Shall call thee hence to go.
+
+  God bless thee in thy wanderings!
+    Wherever they may be,
+  And make the ears of every one
+    Attentive to thy plea;
+  A double blessing will be theirs,
+    Who kindly turn to thee.
+
+
+
+
+                        STORY OF A STOLEN PEN.
+                          WRITTEN BY ITSELF.
+
+
+My friend, Theodore Thinker, who is an odd sort of a genius, and
+frequently takes up things after a singular fashion, has put into my
+hands a paper with this caption: "Story of a Stolen Pen, written by
+itself." It seems, from a somewhat lengthy introduction--too lengthy to
+be here quoted--that the pen once belonged to some editor or another;
+and as Theodore has something to do with editorial matters himself, I
+should not wonder if he is the one. Some curious readers may be disposed
+to inquire how the pen was made to talk so fluently, and perhaps some
+others would like to know how it was found in the first place. I can't
+answer these reasonable inquiries. The manuscript is entirely silent on
+both points. I have my conjectures in relation to the thing--pretty
+strong conjectures, too. I guess the whole story is a fable, to tell the
+truth. But never mind. There is a great deal of sense in fables
+sometimes; and who knows but there may be some in this? At all events,
+we must have
+
+                               THE STORY.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE THIEF STEALING THE PEN.]
+
+
+I wish you could have seen the thief in the act of stealing me. What a
+sorry face he had on! I send you a rough sketch of him--for I have a
+little talent at drawing--taken from memory. I was lying on the desk,
+close by a manuscript which I had commenced. He snatched me as soon as
+the editor's back was turned, and ran out of the office. I wonder the
+people did not notice that he was a rogue as he passed along the street.
+Why, he stared at every body he met, as if he was afraid they were going
+to give him an invitation to walk to the police office. The first thing
+he did was to call at several pawnbroker's offices, where he tried to
+sell me. No one would give him what he asked. He wanted ten or twelve
+dollars, I believe. Well, he gave up that project before night, and I
+heard him mutter to himself, "If I only had the money for it!" After
+supper he took me into his room, and when he had locked the door fast,
+he began to examine me carefully. "It _is_ a beautiful pen," said
+he, and then he tried to see how I would write. I should think he was a
+pretty good penman. He made a great many flourishes with me, and wrote
+his name several times. His name was John Smith, by the way, or at any
+rate, that was the signature he made. "What a fine pen this is," said
+he; "I never wrote with a better pen in my life. But it won't do for me
+to keep it. I shall be found out, if I do. Oh, dear! I wish I had got it
+without stealing it. I wonder where I can sell the troublesome thing."
+
+Just then somebody knocked at the door. It was a long time before he let
+the person in. He had to think what he would do with me first, and it
+took him a good while to put away the paper he had been scribbling on.
+"Why, John!" said the man, when he came in, "what makes you look so
+frightened? I should think you took me for a tiger, or some such
+animal." "I've got the toothache," said the thief, "and I have sent for
+the doctor to pull it out. I thought he had come when you knocked. Dear
+me! how I dread it! Did you ever have a tooth drawn?"
+
+So you see the fellow told a lie. Those who break one of God's
+commandments, are pretty likely to break more before they get through.
+My new owner seemed to find it difficult to get to sleep that night, and
+after he did get to sleep, he muttered a good deal in his dreams. Once I
+heard him say, "No; I bought it of Mr Bagley, in Broadway." I could not
+help thinking that he ought to be content with telling lies when he was
+awake.
+
+One day he left me on the table when he went out. It was unfortunate for
+him. That night I overheard the chambermaid talking with him about it,
+and I saw him turn very red in the face. It was evident she did not
+believe his story about buying the pen of Mr Bagley, though he told it
+over and over again, and made use of a terrible oath, which I dare not
+repeat. Poor man! I pitied him. He was certainly very unhappy. He wanted
+to sell me very much indeed; but some how or other, no one would give
+the price he asked. Perhaps they remembered the saying, "The buyer is as
+bad as the thief." He offered me to one man in Pearl street, who seemed
+a little disposed to buy. "Wait a minute," said he; and he went into a
+back room to speak to somebody. But John Smith thought it would be safer
+for him not to wait. I guess he had his mind on the subject of police
+officers at that time.
+
+He never went to church with me but once; and then, strange enough, the
+minister preached from this text: "The way of transgressors is hard."
+I could feel the poor man's heart throb, as the clergyman slowly read
+the words. When he went home, he was in great distress--for the sermon
+was a very solemn one--and he took down from a shelf a small Bible, all
+covered with dust, and looked at some words which were written on the
+first leaf. I don't wonder he wept, as he read them--"A mother's gift."
+He remembered where the text was, and he turned to it, and read it again
+and again. "Yes," said he, "it is true--too true. But what shall I do?
+I have been to the theatre so much now, that I can't be happy unless I
+go; and where am I to get the money? I wish I had never begun to steal.
+Oh! that was a sad day for me, when I listened to wicked boys, and
+robbed that old man's pear tree." I saw then how he first became a
+thief; and I thought I should like to have every body know that when
+boys are stealing apples, and pears, and peaches, they are serving an
+apprenticeship to the business of stealing on a larger scale. I myself
+have heard of many a highway robber, who began his career in the orchard
+of his neighbor.
+
+Mr Smith did not reform. About three months ago, he stole a horse from
+a stable in the upper part of the city, and immediately left for some
+place in New Jersey. It was a beautiful horse, but he could not sell
+him. People were suspicious. At last he was arrested, and had to go to
+Sing Sing prison. I hope he will make up his mind to be an honest man
+now; for he has certainly learned, by pretty dear experience, that
+"honesty is the best policy." I can't think he would steal any more if
+they should let him out. Still, I am not sure. The habit was very
+strong.
+
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:48:07 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:48:07 -0700
commit	25bf69ab542a3d26b71999de24011678850364b5 (patch)
tree	86dcc619a5a1a777036408e9711105a84761d391