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diff --git a/16073-h/16073-h.htm b/16073-h/16073-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..444705a --- /dev/null +++ b/16073-h/16073-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5542 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<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&idno=UF00001794&format=jpg"> + http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=jpg</a> + <br> + or<br> + <a href="http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&format=pdf"> + http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00001794&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 & 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—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.</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—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.</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—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.</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—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—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.</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> </td> +<th>Authors. </th> +<th>Page.</th> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +<td> </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—for two were boys and two +girls—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—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—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—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.</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—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.</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—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—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—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—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,'</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—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."</p> + +<p align="justify">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.</p> + +<p align="justify">One day—perhaps some six weeks after this—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—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—I can scarcely tell why—<br> + To the court of his cousins, the fishes,<br> +With despatches, so heavy he scarcely could fly,<br> + And his bosom brimfull of good wishes.<br> +<br> +He wished the poor Herrings no harm, he said,<br> + Though there seemed to be cause for suspicion;<br> +His government wished to convert them, instead,<br> + And this was the end of his mission.<br> +<br> +The Herrings replied, and were civil enough,<br> + Though a little inclined to be witty:<br> +"We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough,<br> + And are greatly obliged for your pity.<br> +<br> +"But your plan of conversion we beg to decline,<br> + With all due respect for your nation;<br> +No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine,<br> + Yet we fear it would check respiration."<br> +<br> +The Heron returned to his peers in disdain,<br> + And told how their love was requited.<br> +"Poor creatures!" they said, "shall we let them remain<br> + So ignorant, blind, and benighted?"<br> +<br> +Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will<br> + The Herons in council decided;<br> +And they flew, every one that could boast a long bill,<br> + To the beach where the Herrings resided.<br> +<br> +So the tribe were soon converts from ocean to air,<br> + Though liking not much the diversion,<br> +And wishing at least they had time to prepare<br> + For so novel a mode of conversion.<br> +<br> +A sensible child will discover with ease<br> + The point of the tale I've related—<br> +A blockhead could not, let me say what I please—<br> + 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—the +<i>Anemone Thalictroides</i>, as it used to be called in botany, +though it is now the <i>Thalictrum Anemonoides</i>, I believe—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—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—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—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> + 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> + 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> + 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> + 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—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—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.</p> + +<p align="justify">But my strain is sad—too sad. I will sing, and +be cheerful.</p> + +<p> 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> + Why, ere 'twas noon?<br> +<br> + I cannot tell—<br> +But though the grave be that loved sister's dwelling,<br> +And though my heart e'en now with grief is swelling,<br> + I know 'tis well.<br> +<br> + 'Tis well with the—<br> +'Tis well with thee, thou lone and silent sleeper!<br> +'Tis well, though thou hast left me here a weeper<br> + Awhile to be.<br> +<br> + 'Tis well for me—<br> +'Tis well; my home, since thou art gone, is dearer—<br> +The grave is welcome, if it bring me nearer<br> + To heaven and thee.<br> +<br> + I'll not repine—<br> +No, blest one; thou art happier than thy brother:<br> +I'll think of thee, as with thy angel-mother,<br> + Sweet sister mine.<br> +<br> + 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—<br> + Come to me there.<br> +<br> + 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> + 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—</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—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—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—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> + 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> + 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> + 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> "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—<br> +He runs so close to the rapid wheel.<br> +<br> +"Whatever is rung on that noisy bell—<br> +Chime of the hour or funeral knell—<br> +The dove in the belfry must hear it well.<br> +When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon—<br> +When the sexton cheerily rings for noon—<br> +When the clock strikes clear at morning light—<br> +When the child is waked with 'nine at night'—<br> +When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,<br> +Filling the spirit with love of prayer—<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 filméd 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—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.</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—<br> +For indolence always has moments to spare—<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—<br> +For a cunning old hypocrite Spider was he—<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—perhaps they are wiser than I—<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—I love to be free.<br> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +"This hoarding of riches—this wasting of time,<br> +In robbing the gardens and fields—'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—<br> +'Twas a habit he had—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—I ought to know how—<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—</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—</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—</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—</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—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.</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—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—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—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!"</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—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.</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—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—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.</p> + +<p align="justify">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—</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—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. +<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—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.</p> + +<p align="justify">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.</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.—Before undertaking any enterprise +similar to this cider-plot, it is desirable to count the cost.</p> + +<p align="justify">MORAL 2.—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—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—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.</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—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—here we go!<br> +Swift—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—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> + right—<br> +Just wait till I see—no—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—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—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> + And 'tis a shameful sight,<br> +When children of one family,<br> + 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—who have ever called +each other hard names—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——, 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—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.</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—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—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.</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"——</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—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,</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—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"——</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—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.</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—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—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.</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—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> + Toileth the miner on;<br> +He sees not the golden morning break—<br> + He sees not the setting sun.<br> +<br> +Dimly his lamp in the dark vault burns,<br> + And he sits on the miner's hard floor,<br> +Toiling, toiling, toiling on;<br> + Toiling for precious ore!<br> +<br> +The air is wet; for the dew and rain,<br> + Drank by the thirsty ground,<br> +Have won their way to his dark retreat,<br> + And are trickling all around—-<br> +<br> +And sickly vapors are near his lips,<br> + And close to his wire-net lamp,<br> +Unseen, as an evil spirit comes,<br> + Up stealeth the dread fire-damp!<br> +<br> +But the miner works on, though death is by,<br> + And fears not the monster grim;<br> +For the wiry gauze, round his steady light,<br> + Makes a safety-lamp for him.<br> +<br> +Rough and rude, and of little worth,<br> + Seems the ore that the miner brings<br> +From the hidden places where lie concealed<br> + Earth's rare and precious things;<br> +<br> +But, tried awhile in the glowing fire,<br> + It is rough and rude no more;<br> +Art moulds the iron, and forms the gold,<br> + And fashions the silver ore.<br> +<br> +And useful, rare, and beautiful things,<br> + 'Neath the hand of skill arise:<br> +Oh! a thousand thousand human wants<br> + 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—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.</p> + +<p align="justify">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.</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>—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—</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—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.</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> + Of theirs, which yet remain,<br> + Were footed in Queen Mary's days,<br> + On many a grassy plain;<br> + But since of late Elizabeth,<br> + And later James came in,<br> + They never danced on any heath,<br> + As when the time hath been.<br> +<br> +"By which we note the fairies<br> + Were of the old profession;<br> + Their songs were Ave Marias,<br> + Their dances were processions;<br> + But now, alas! they all are dead,<br> + Or gone beyond the seas,<br> + Or further for religion fled,<br> + 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—</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—I'd like to know why—<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—'Twas<br> +nonsense to try to conceal it from me.</p> + +<p>V.</p> + +<p>I know—for but yesterday I was your guest—<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—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 <i>do</i> 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."</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—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—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! +<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—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?"</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—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."</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—</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> + Fan the warm air<br> +With your soft silken pinions,<br> + So brilliant and fair;<br> +A poor, fluttering prisoner<br> + No longer you'll be;<br> +There! Out of the window!<br> + You are free—you are free!</p> + +<p>Go, rest on the bosom<br> + Of some favorite flower;<br> +Go, sport in the sunlight<br> + Your brief little hour;<br> +For your day, at the longest,<br> + Is scarcely a span:<br> +Then go and enjoy it;<br> + Be gay while you can.</p> + +<p>As for me, I have something<br> + More useful to do:<br> +I must work, I must learn—<br> + Though I play sometimes, too.<br> +All your days with the blossoms,<br> + Bright thing, <i>you</i> may spend;<br> +They will close with the summer,<br> + <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—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.</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—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."</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—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.</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—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.—<br> +"O sister! look out of the window," said she;<br> +"Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de.<br> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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.—<br> +I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;<br> +He's all the time singing that chick-a-de-de.<br> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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—<br> +Good morning! O, who are so happy as we?"—<br> +And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.<br> + Chick-a-de-de, +&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—</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—</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—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—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—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 +<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—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."</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—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.</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> + And by the soft zephyr the green leaves are +stirred;<br> +With the wood-bird's note the pine forests ring,<br> + And the voice of the robin's glad music is heard.</p> + +<p>I see my companions abroad on the plain,<br> + But the beauties of spring, they are not for me.<br> +Oh! when shall I leave my dull prison again?<br> + I am pining to roam 'mid the wild flowers free.</p> + +<p>O green is the turf in the wildwood now,<br> + And my spirit flies from the dwellings of men,<br> +Where the wind blows soft through the cedar's bough,<br> + And the voice of the streamlet is heard from the +glen.</p> + +<p>This dim-lighted chamber I long to resign<br> + For my cherish'd retreat, 'neath the wide-spreading +tree.<br> +Through the long, long hours of day I pine<br> + For the breath of the flowers and the hum of the +bee.</p> + +<p>No, not for me are the beauties of spring,<br> + Nor the zephyr that sighs in the cedar's bough;<br> +The birds of the forest all sweetly may sing,<br> + But not for my ear is their music now.</p> + +<p>Yet, merciful Father! I will not complain;<br> + My hopes are all centred on heaven and Thee;<br> +I know that thy grace will my spirit sustain—<br> + I ask not for more—'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—</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—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—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.</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—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.</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—for it +was so swift that I scarcely could breathe—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—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—</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—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.</p> + +<p align="center"><a href="images/0224.jpg"><img src= +"images/thumb/0224.jpg" border="0" alt= +"THE "SHOW.""></a><br>THE "SHOW."</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—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.</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—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.</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—"</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—</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—"</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—"</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—I was—provoked—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—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?" +</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— +</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> + Beside our cottage door;<br> +A cup of water from the spring,<br> + A loaf to bless the poor,<br> +We give with cheerful hearts, for God<br> + Hath given us of his store. </p> + +<p>Too feeble, thou, for daily toil,<br> + Too weak to earn thy bread—<br> +For th' weight of many, many years,<br> + Lies heavy on thy head—<br> +A wanderer, want, thy weary feet,<br> + Hath to our cottage led. </p> + +<p>Come rest awhile. 'Twill not be long,<br> + Ere thy faint head shall know<br> +A deeper, calmer, better rest,<br> + Than cometh here below;<br> +When He, who loveth every one,<br> + Shall call thee hence to go. </p> + +<p>God bless thee in thy wanderings!<br> + Wherever they may be,<br> +And make the ears of every one<br> + Attentive to thy plea;<br> +A double blessing will be theirs,<br> + 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—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 +</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—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 <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—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. +</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> +<p>******* This file should be named 16073-h.txt or 16073-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/0/7/16073">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/7/16073</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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