Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Clara's amusements
 The rose-bush
 The cherries
 Selected poetry
 Back Cover

Title: Clara's amusements
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001699/00001
 Material Information
Title: Clara's amusements
Series Title: Clara's amusements
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Bache, Anna
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001699
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA1749
ltuf - ALG1980
oclc - 35197975
alephbibnum - 002221750

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Half Title
        Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Clara's amusements
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
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        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
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        Page 111
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        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
    The rose-bush
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    The cherries
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
    Selected poetry
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Back Cover
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
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" LET me make the songs of a nation," said a
philosopher, "and I care not who makes its
In CLARA'S AMUSEMENTB, I have endeavoured
to represent conscientious and intelligent parents
interesting themselves in the recreations of their
children ; combining usefulness with pleasure, min-
gling moral with mental enjoyment, and trying to
make those tastes habitual which may best adorn
and elevate domestic intercourse. My sketches
ought to be natural, for they are true. The inci-
dents and most of the conversations are from life,
and I have seen the plan acted out with success in
a family of small means and simple habits.


CLAIA'S AM x9us sMu:-
L A Day at the Rocks, ... ... ... 9*
IL Conversatiou-Housekeeping-The French Revolution, 27
Il1. Poor S.trah Matthews-Nnrsing the Sick, ... 18
IV. Self-Dental The Little Account-Books Clara's
Thought, ... ... ... ... .. 48
V. Ruth's Visit- Polite Attentions, ... ... 65
VL the Scrap Booke-A Ubeful Visitor- King Alfred and
the Beggar-Music and Drawing-The Wise Choice, 60
VII. Clara Puzzled-The Sphynx-Symbolic Writing, 74
VIIL Riddles, ... ... .. ... ... 8
IX. The Storm-Play of the Travellers, ... 98
X. Storm Continued-Engravings-Poetcal Selection, 98
XI. Clara's Prudence-Economy of Ple e The Cabinet
ofCoins, ... ... ... ... ... 108
XII. More Stories-The Vision of Amurath-Conversation
-The Soldltr of the Alp ... ... ... 18
XIII. New Year's Day-Retrospect-llenry's Ltter-The
Ice Boat, ... ... ... ... 148
TIn Rosa-BusH:-
I. Mr. Alkmar and his son Lewis, ... ... 157
IL Fuller Particulars about Lewis, ... ... ... 164

viii caOTNTNs.

IIL An Unepected Appartion, ... ... ... 170
IV. LerL's Esape, .. ... ... ... ... 17
V. The Father's Grve .. ... ... ... 188
VL The Woblmuth Fnmily, ... ... ... ... 18
VII Mr. Von Pracht ad his Family, ... ... 191
VIII. Louia Wohimuth, ... ... ... ... 198
IX. Lucy Von Praht, ... ... ... ... 199
X. The Betrothal, ... ... ... ... ... SO
Tha Cazarms ... ... ... ... ... 11
Emily sathe Butterfly, ... ... ... ... 2a1
Spring, 2. ... ... ... ... 284
The Old nd the Children ... ... ... 23
My Little ter, ... ... ... ... 239



CEDARVILLE is built on a plain at the foot of a
hill, and a pretty river flows past the lower part of
the village. About eight miles north of Cedar-
ville, the banks of the river are high, and thickly
wooded. There is an old mill near the stream, and
at a few hundred yards distance from the water
stands a cluster of lofty stones, called the "Rocks."
Some of these stones rise up like walls; others are
flat, and broad enough to be used for tables; and
many smaller pieces of all shapes, stick out of the
ground, in every direction, and serve for steps when
people choose to scramble over them. These rocks
are very beautiful in summer time, when their gray
surfaces are spotted with bright-coloured mosses,
the creeping plants hang in garlands over their
rough aides, and the wind rustles pleasantly in


the tall old trees around them, just moving the
leaves enough to let the blue sky peep down at the
ramblers below. Many fair flowers grow wild in
these woods. Often they spring up, open their
buds, bloom and wither, with no human eye to see
their beauty: but God makes these solitary places
pleasant; perhaps for the birds who rear their
young among the branches, and the bees who work
4ind buzz so merrily among tile flowers. God is
good to all his creatures, and loves to see them
happy, when their pleasures are innocent.
The inhabitants of Cedarville often, in summer
time, make parties to spend a day at the/Rocks.
Sometimes they go in boats on the river, and some-
times in carriages, or on horseback. Mr. and Mrs.
Jones had come from the state of Connecticut to
visit Mr. and Mrs. Howell: they brought two of
their children with them, James and Isabel. James
was twelve years old, and Isabel almost ten. They
were lively, well-behaved chil ,ren, and the little
Howells were very glad of their company.
These friends had never been at Cedarville
before; so one evening, when some other company
were drinking tea with Mrs. Howell, Mr. Howell
proposed a visit to the Rocks. The ladies and


gentlemen were willing, and the children were wild
with joy when they were told that they were to
go. This was on Monday, and Wednesday was
the day fixed for the excursion.
On Tuesday fowls were roasted, ham was boiled,
pies and cakes were made, and all the provision-
baskets were packed on Tuesday evening.
Before it was quite light on Wednesday morning,
the children were up and dressed, and they won-
dered much that their parents were not as impati-
ent to set off as themselves. They thought break-
fast was uncommonly late, though the clock point-
ed to the usual hour, and Isabel Jones wondered
how people could eat when they were going to the
Rocks. Isabel, Clara, and George, went to the
door very often to see whether it was likely to
rain, though there was scarcely a speck of cloud
in the sky; and every waggon that rattled past,
they thought was certainly the carriage. It had
been settled that Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Howell,
with Isabel, Jane, and Clara, should go in the
carriage, with Mr. Howell to drive them. Mr.
Jones, Philip Howell, Miss Archer, and her brother
Henry, were to ride on horseback, and the rest of
the party went in a boat.


At last, breakfast was over, shawls and bonnets
were on, parasols were held ready, the carriage
was really at the door, and those who were to go
on the river, had set off to walk to the boat. Still
Ruth and Henry Archer had not made their appear-
ance. The ladies and children were seated in the
carriage, Mr. Howell took the reins, Mr. Jones
mounted his horse, and Philip, after a long look up
the road, was slowly following his example, when
two ponies dashed round the corner of a lane, and
galloped up to the door. "Here they are here
they are l" exclaimed every body, and Henry rode
up to the carriage to explain why he and his sister
had been so late. "Their hired girl had gone
away on a sudden," he said, "just after breakfast,
and Ruth did not like to leave her mother alone,
with more work to attend to than usual. Sister
wanted to stay at home altogether," continued
Henry, but mother would not hear of it. So she
sends her love to you, Mrs. Howell, and regrets
that she cannot join the party; but it is not con-
venient for her to leave home to-day."
Ruth and Henry were twins-they were about
sixteen years old. They were neither very great,
very rich, very learned, nor very handsome; but


they were beloved by every body. Old and young,
rich and poor, all loved Ruth and Henry Archer.
No wonder. They were lively and good-natured;
they were dutiful children, diligent pupils, and
obliging playmates. Young as Ruth was, she was
not only an active help, but a pleasant companion
to her parents; for she wished to improve, and
never idled away the hours set apart for study:
and without neglecting her home duties, she was
always ready to help her friends and neighbours.
Many a sick bed did Ruth Archer tend; many a
cross child did she keep quiet: many a cap and
gown did she make for poor old women who could
not see to do their own sewing. And Henry was
always ready to assist his sister in her works of
kindness. When she prepared broth or gruel for
the sick poor, (and such are to be found i every
neighbourhood,) Henry was always at leisure to
carry it. Henry would ride for the doctor in the
darkest night, or the heaviest rain. Henry would
dig old Widow Simson's potatoes, and help Mary
Greaves to drive home her mother's troublesome
cow. No wonder every body loved Ruth and
Henry Archer. And they were not the less re-
fined and intelligent, because they loved to be use-

ful. They were welcome guests at all sorts of
parties, and were always spoken of as the politest
and best informed young people in Cedarville.
After a very pleasant ride and row, the party
were collected at the mill; and when they had
partaken of some cakes and lemonade, they set
out to wander in the woods. The grown people
walked soberly along; but the children ran, jumped,
and scrambled, as if they wanted to tire themselves
as much as possible. They gathered a great many
pretty wild flowers, and made wreaths for their
bonnets of the rock columbines and wild honey-
suckle. Bella Jones found an empty bird's nest
lying on the ground. Bella was not used to coun-
try life, and this bird's nest was quite a curiosity
to her. She put it carefully away in her little
basket, and Ruth Archer told her that she had
some tiny, tiny bird's eggs at home, which she
would give her to keep in her nest. Bella was
delighted, and thanked Ruth very earnestly.
They came to a place where the rock rose high
above their heads, and over the edge of this high
rock trickled a little rill of water, which fell splash-
ing and sparkling into a hollow stone on the bank
below. They did not know whether this stone had


been hollowed by the constant dropping of the
water, or whether somebody had hollowed it
on purpose. Jane thought the dropping of the
water had hollowed it, for she said she had heard
that constant dropping would wear away stone. But
Henry Archer thought he could see marks of the
chisel on some parts of the little basin, so he con-
cluded that it had been hollowed by somebody
on purpose. All agreed that the little cascade
looked very pretty, falling into the stone basin, and
splashing up again in bright drops over the green
moss that grew round the edge. Ruth proposed to
give it a name; and after a great many names had
been mentioned, they chose the one Ruth liked
the best, and called it The Fairy's Waterfall.
When the children heard the word fairy, they
directly begged Ruth to tell them a fairy tale.
Ruth laughed, and said she would tell them a story
of which the place put her in mind, but it was not
exactly a fairy tale. Then she sat down on the
root of a tree, all the others clustered round her,
and Ruth told them the beautiful story of The
Little Brook and the Star."
Just as the story was finished, they heard Mr.
Howell calling them; so they made haste to the


place from whence the voice came. Mr. Howell
called to let them know that dinner was ready.
The cloth was spread on a large smooth stone, and
the company sat, lay, or knelt round it, as they
liked best. The children had excellent appetites;
they thought cold chicken, ham, and pie, tasted a
great deal better in the woods than at home.
George said he should like to be an Indian, and
live in a wigwam; but James reminded him that
he would not be likely to get roast fowls and
plumcakes every dayin the woods. Jane thought
that in winter he would find a carpeted parlour,
and a stove, much more comfortable than a wig-
wam. George said he would carry a rifle, and
shoot the deer, and nothing was nicer than venison
steaks; and as for the cold, he did not fear that.
He would cut down plenty of trees with his axe,
and make such large fires that he would not feel
the cold.
After dinner the fathers and mothers sat talk-
ing, and the children went off to find some new
amusement. They begged Ruth and Henry to
come with them. Now Ruth and Henry would
rather have staid and listened to the conversation
of the grown people, but they kindly gave up their


own inclinations, and went with the children.
They sang songs, told stories, and played at hide
and seek among the bushes until they were tired.
Then they asked Ruth and Henry to think of
some new play for them. Henry proposed that
they should play at Robinson Crusoe.
The children had all read Robinson Crusoe, and
they clapped their hands with delight, and said,
"Oh I yes, do show us, Henry."
"We can't play all the book through," said
Jane, it will be night before we have half done."
We shall play only part of it," said Henry.
" Come this way; I know of a nice little cave
close by. George, you shall be Robinson Crusoe;
but there are ro many of us, I think we had better
save a few more people from the wreck, that we
may all play. We will save the captain, and
mate, and two of the sailors. Philip, will you be
captain ?"
"You had better be captain, Henry. I'll act
under your orders: I'll be mate," said Philip.
Very well; you shall be mate," said Henry.
" George is Robinson Crusoe; James Jones and
William Jarvis are sailors. Young ladies, your
mothers won't like you to be shipwrecked, I sup-


pose, for we are going to pull off our shoes and
stockings; you shall be savages. Grace Jarvis,
you shall be Man Friday."
And what am I to be ?" said Thomas Clarke,
giving a great skip. "I'll tell you what, I'll be
the monkey."
Robinson Crusoe had no monkey," said Grace
Jarvis; "he had only a parrot."
But Philip Quarll had a monkey when he was
shipwrecked," answered Thomas; a useful mon-
key, that helped him to pick up wood. I'll tell
you what, I can be parrot and monkey too."
How ?" asked Bella Jones.
"Why, I'll skip like the monkey, and talk like
the parrot." So Thomas gave several skips like
the monkey; then he cried, "Pretty Poll! pretty
Poll I" like a parrot; and then he pretended to eat
nuts like a monkey, to the great amusement of his
audience; though James Jones asked him if Robin-
son Crusoe's parrot spoke English before it was
Come," said Henry, we must find some place
to be shipwrecked in, where the bank runs pretty
smooth to the water." So they went along the
bank for some distance, until they found a strip of


gravelly sand, where the girls could run about
without wetting their feet. Then Henry showed
them the cave, which was formed merely by an
overhanging ledge of rock; and he took care to
ascertain that there were no snakes, or any other
reptiles there, that might hurt or frighten the
children. Then the boys took off their shoes and
stockings, and tucked up their pantaloons, and
waded into the water, carrying boughs of trees,
which were to represent the planks on which they
swam to shore. While they splashed in the water,
the girls, under Ruth's direction, gathered a heap
of dry sticks and leaves, and built a fire, round
which the savages were to dance. Clara wanted
to kindle the pile, to make it seem move real; but
Ruth reminded her, that as the muslin frocks of
the savages might catch fire while they were
dancing round the blaze, it would be prudent only
to make believe. When the fire was built the
girls went to look at the boys.
The captain, mate, and sailors, had all paddled
through the water, dragging their boughs; and
when they reached the shore, they threw them-
selves on the sand, quite exhausted," Philip said,
with combating the winds and waves." After a


while they got up, and the captain made a speech
to his men, and said, that as the ship was lost,
they might suppose he had no longer a right to
command them; and asked if they were willing
that he should take the direction of them, as
The sailors cried out, "Yes yes! you have
been a very good captain, and we are willing to
obey you as we did before."
The captain thanked them for their confidence
in him, and said he should use his authority for
the general good. Then he proposed that they
should refresh themselves by eating some of the
shell fish which lay upon the beach in great num-
bers, and that, after they had eaten, two of them
should walk along the beach, and see if any chests
had floated ashore from the wreck.
Little stones served for shell fish, and two of
the provision baskets were called chests. These
chests were brought up by the sailors, and laid at
the feet of the captain. The captain told them
that while they were securing the chests, he had
discovered a cave where they might be comfort-
ably sheltered from the weather. "But where,"
said he, "is Robinson Crusoe."


"Here he comes I" said one of the sailors, and
a wild beast with him."
Robinson Crusoe made his appearance from
behind a bush, leading Tom Clarke by a handker-
chief tied round his arm; and he told the captain
he had caught a fine monkey in the woods.
"Tom Clarke," said one of the girls, "you
should not laugh so if you are a monkey."
"Yes, I should," replied Tom; "monkeys
laugh, and they chatter too."
Then the captain broke open the chests, and
iaid that one of them was filled with carpenter's
tools, and the other with clothing.
But here is a bag," said he, "with a small
cheese, and some biscuit; we will each take half
a biscuit, and a small slice of cheese, to strengthen
us for our labours."
When the imaginary bread and cheese were
eaten, and the monkey had been cuffed for putting
his paws into the bag, the captain gave each of
his men a hatchet from the tool chest, and directed
them to cut boughs from the surrounding trees,
while he climbed to the top of the tallest tree,
to survey the country with his pocket teles-


While the captain climbed the tree, Ruth Archer
tied Grace Jarvis's hands and feet together with
handkerchiefs, and laid her down at a little distance
from the fire. Then she and the other girls joined
hands, and danced round the fire, shouting and
Presently the captain came down from the tree,
and told his men that he had seen, on a distant part
of the beach, which was hidden from the view of
those on the ground by a ledge of rocks, a party of
savages dancing round a fire, and that they seemed
about to sacrifice a captive who lay bound upon
the sand.
Captain," said the mate," shall we try to rescue
the poor captive."
"Surely," said the captain: "do you take the
pistols, I will take the gun; the rest of you each
take a hatchet, and let us sally forth against them."
By this time Ruth had untied Grace, and Grace
jumped up and ran towards the sailors, crying for
help. The girls ran after her, shouting and scream-
ing, and the sailors rushed upon the savages, crying,
"Hurra hurra! Yankee boys for ever." The
captain pretended to fire the gun, the savages
screamed and ran back; little Grace ran up to

A DAT AT THS 300KK. 23

Robinson Crusoe, and knelt down on the sand
before him, holding up her hands, and asking for
mercy in dumb show. The sailors pursued the
retreating savages round a clump of bushes, and
Ruth Archer, who headed the runaways, ran
against Mr. Howell, and almost knocked herself
"My dear Miss Ruthl I hope you are not
hurt," said Mr. Howell, catching hold of her hand.
Oh I no sir, not at all," replied the half breath-
less girl, laughing.
What are you all doing? and what is this noise
about ?"
Robinson Crusoe, sir," replied Ruth, has just
rescued Friday, and the sailors are chasing the
"Indeed I" said Mr. Howell, smiling. "Then
the savages had better take to their canoes; or, in
other words, get ready to go home. You are very
kind, Miss Ruth, to take such pains to amuse these
young ones."
"Oh I I like to do it sir," said the good natured
girl; it amuses me as much as it does them. I'll
go back and help to collect them."
Savages, sailors, and provision baskets, being


safely restored to their respective owners, they all
went up to the mill, to meet the carriages. The
miller's wife had prepared tea for them, and would
not let them go without partaking of it; and a very
nice tea it was. Excellent green tea, rich cream,
fresh butter, hot biscuits, broiled ham, currant pies,
preserves, loafcake, and gingerbread. Children's
appetites are always ready for sweet things, and the
ladies enjoyed the refreshing tea very much.
While they were drinking tea, the miller's wife,
who was a very old woman, told them stories of
old times at the mill; and said she remembered
when the deer used to come down to the river
before her door, to drink.
Some changes were proposed in the order of their
return. The party who had come by water, ex-
changed places with those in the carriage; they
had prudently brought cloaks and shawls to defend
them from the evening dews. Ruth Archer, ob-
serving James Jones look wishfully at her pony,
asked if he could ride. He said yes; and Ruth
said a few words in a whisper to her brother.
Henry went into the house, and presently returned
with a man's saddle, which he had borrowed of the
miller. The side-saddle was taken off Ruth's poney;


the miller's boy promised to bring it to Cedar-
ville the next day in his cart; and James Jones
was made happy by an invitation to ride home on
horseback. Ruth went with Mrs. Howell in the boat.
The evening was still and clear. The few rosy
clouds that hung motionless in the sky, were reflect-
ed on the surface of the river. Fireflies began to
sparkle where the leaves grew thickest, though the
golden sunset was yet glowing. The hum and
chatter of nocturnal insects, birds, and reptiles,
commenced. The shrill katydids, and hoarse frogs
joined their voices; the whip-poor-will's mournful
cry resounded from the woods; and once or twice,
the children were startled by the discordant shriek
of the night-hawk, as he darted through the air.
The party sat for some time in silence, resting
after the exercise of the day, and enjoying the
lovely sunset.
Mother," whispered Jane, "I feel very differ-
ently from what I did this morning."
"How ?" asked her mother.
don't know, mother. I was happy then, and
I feel happy now; but it was merry happiness in
the morning, and now I feel somehow sad, yet very
happy too. Mother, in the morning I did not


think of any thing but playing; now I am thinking
of God, and how good He is, to let us have all this
"Darling," whispered her mother; "you may
always be sure that your pleasures are right ones,
when they make you think lovingly and thankfully
of your Father in heaven."
Jane had taken her mother's hand between her's.
She pressed it fondly, and nestled closer to her
mother's side, for she felt that she was understood
and she loved her mother better for that sympathy.
The silence was broken by Mrs. Jones asking
Miss Archer to sing. Ruth was als.js ready to
oblige. She sang
Shade of evening close not o'er us"

Her voice was sweet, and she sang well. Every
body felt that the song was appropriate to the
time and place; everybody was pleased, and every
body thanked her.
When they drew near the village, stars were
coming out in the dark blue sky, and lights were
twinkling in the village windows, though there was
still a broad streak of brightness in the west. The
river widened near Cedarville, and several parties.


returning, like themselves, from pleasure excur-
sions, came in sight. One pretty boat, which had
a little flag hoisted, darted past them. It rowed
very swiftly, and the party in it seemed to be in
very high spirits. Two Jadies and a gentleman
were singing, and the children stopped talking to
listen. The words they heard were these:

Row the boat! row the boat
Pull to the shore;
See how the diamond drops
Flash from the oar;
Our pennant is flying, our light bark is trying
Her speed, as she bears us the bright river o'er

Row the boat! row the boat.
Through the white spray;
Light have our hearts been
And pleasant our way.
In life's summer weather, oft may we together
Renew the enjoyment we've tasted to-day.



MOTHER," said Jane, "when I stopped at Mrs.
Wilmot's to leave the volume of poems you sent


her, little Ellen Wilmot opened the door, and she
asked me to come into the kitchen, for she said
her mother had a message to send you, and could
not leave the work she was doing."
"Well?" said Mrs. Howell.
"Well, mother, Mrs. Wilmot was rolling out
pie crust, with her little white hands, that looked
hardly strong enough to push the roller. I sup-
pose I looked rather hard at her; for she laughed,
and said, Never too old to learn, Miss Howell;
but I suppose you country folks think we city
ones have had our education greatly neglected,
don't you?'"
Mrs. Wilmot is a wise woman," said Mrs.
Howell. "When her husband lived in New York
she had no occasion ever to do such work; but
since Mr. Wilmot lost so much of his property,
she has exerted herself heartily and cheerfully.
Her good management enables them to live very
comfortably on their reduced income."
"I thought of what you always say, mother,
about the necessity of ladies learning how to keep
house," observed Jane.
But mother," said Clara, suppose we were
queens. They are sure never to grow poor; they


can always have people to work for them; so they
need not learn to keep house."
Mrs. Howell smiled.
What are you laughing at, mother ?" asked
I was thinking of the French Revolution," re-
plied her mother.
"Was that very funny?"
"No, indeed, my dear child; it was a series of
the most horrible events ever recorded in history,"
answered Mrs. Howell.
"Tell us about it, won't you, mother?" said
Clara, drawing her little chair close to her mother's
I am afraid you would not understand me,"
said Mrs. Howell.
"Yes, mother, I am sure I can; I will pay
great attention. Please tell us."
France is a kingdom; that is, a country gov-
erned by a king."
"Yes, ma'am," interrupted Clara, I know
that; and I know where to find France on the
map of Europe."
Very well; but Clara, why do you stop work
ing ?"


"Mother, I never can work and talk."
"You must learn to do so, or you will waste a
great deal of time. But at present, you are only
required to work and listen; so thread your
needle, and go on with your seam."
Clara did as she was bid, and her mother con-
France is a kingdom; and in kingdoms there
is a class of people called the nobility. They are
but few in comparison with the number of people
who work for their living. The nobles are gener-
ally rich, and have titles; that is, instead of being
called Mr. and Mrs. they are called Lords and
Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, Counts and Count-
esses; and they are next in greatness to the king
and the royal family.
France was governed for a long time by fool-
ish and wicked kings, and the working classes were
cruelly oppressed by the nobles."
Are all nobles bad people ?" said Clara.
"By no means. Many of the nobility of all
countries are wise, and good, and kind. They
make their wealth and power the means of doing
great good; for in those countries, they are look-
ed up to with great respect by those who are not


noble. Their example is sure to be followed by a
great many people; and if they behave well, they
exert a good influence over those who are below
them in rank. Even during the dreadful times I
speak of, there were a few good nobles in France,
who found friends and protectors in the poor
people they had been kind to. But when people
have all their wants provided for, without having
to do anything to help themselves, it is apt to
make them selfish and thoughtless. And the
nobles who were selfish and thoughtless, were
many more in number than those who were kind
and wise. They treated the working people very
ill, and punished them if they complained. At
last the poor people could bear it no longer. They
were tired of cold and hunger, hard work and ill
treatment; and it drove them wild to see the nobles
enjoying themselves, and wasting great sums of
money, which would have bought bread and cloth-
ing for thousands of the famishing poor, and all
the while treating them with scorn and cruelty.
So they rose up, and said they would not have a
king to govern them any longer; they would drive
away the nobles, and divide the lands and money
among themselves, and they would choose their


own rulers. Then the nobility tried to defend
themselves, but the people were too many for
them. The people were ignorant and angry, and
the beginning of evil is like the letting out of
water. They did not content themselves with
taking part of the wealth of the nobles, or forcing
them to agree to make better laws for the protec-
tion of the working classes, but they began to rob
and murder without restraint. They dragged the
king and queen out of their palaces, insulted them,
put them in prison, and finally cut off their heads.
They burned the castles of the nobility, and mur-
dered all they could find of their families. Many
of the nobles fled secretly to other countries, and
were obliged to work to maintain themselves.
The well educated, industrious ones, got a respect-
able living; but the idle and ignorant suffered
Then I guess," said Clara, that if ever they
got back their lands and money, they remembered
how bad it was to be poor and sorrowful, and be-
haved better than they did before."
"I hope they did," said Mrs. Howell. "But,
before these troubles began, some children belong-
ing to the royal family had been placed under the


care of a very sensible governess. This lady was
called the Countess de Genlis. She was a hand-
some, elegant, well informed woman, and she sin-
cerely desired the good of her pupils. She took
great pains with their education. She herself
played on the harp, sang, drew, danced, under
stood several languages; could write elegantly
both in prose and verse, knew history, geography,
astronomy, in short, all that is thought necessary
to a good education. She could also do all kinds
of beautiful needlework.
"One of the two princesses placed under her care,
died early. Madame de Genlis continued to edu-
cate the surviving sister; and her father, the Duke
of Orleans, was so well satisfied with Madame's
mode of teaching, that he entreated her to take
charge of his son's education also. Besides the
usual branches of a gentleman's education, the
little prince learned to work at two or three trades.
He was taught to wait on himself, to sleep on a
hard bed, to take very long walks and rides, to
face the sun, the wind, the rain, and the cold, and
to endure unavoidable inconveniences without
Madame de Genlis had two daughters of her


own; she also took care of her niece, and a little
orphan girl, named Pamela. She was so well con-
vinced of the value to women of a good know-
ledge of household duties, that she made not only
these children, but the little princess, learn how to
cook, make their own beds, nurse the sick, and go
to market. She wrote a little book for them,
teaching them to play at housekeeping. They
had little sets of cooking utensils; little dinner and
tea sets, and they cooked their own little feasts."
How nice I" said both the girls.
"They had little account books; and she gave
them a list of the current prices of things, and
taught them how to go to market, and go shopping.
And when they bought things, they had to set
down in their little books what they bought, and
how much they gave; and they cast up their ac-
counts as carefully as if they had really been keep-
ing house.
Oh I mother, may we do so?" said Jane. Will
you show us how, and give us little books ?"
And will you buy us some little cooking things,
mother, and let us cook for ourselves ?" said Clara.
I will, with pleasure," answered Mrs. Howell.
Thank you, mother," exclaimed both her

ooNVarsATION. 35

daughters; and Clara added," it will be such a nice
But," said their mother, this wise govern s
had something more in view, than merely teaching
them a pleasant play. She could not foresee all
the horrors of the revolution ; but she knew that
human life is full of changes, and thought it well to
prepare herself and them for whatever might hap-
pen. I suppose, too, she thought that when they
knew by experience, how much time and trouble
it takes to prepare food and clothing, and to keep
things in order, they would grow more careful and
considerate, and try not to give any unnecessary
trouble to their friends and servants.
When the fury of the people was turned
against the royal family, Madame de Genlis, faith-
ful to her trust, fled from France with her pupils, in
order to save their lives. They were obliged to travel
through by-roads, in a very humble manner. They
had to conceal their names, for fear of being mur-
dered, if they were known to belong to the royrl
family. They met with great difficulties on tl,e
journey; their carriage broke down; they had to
walk miles in cold, and wet, and darkness. Some-
times they could scarcely procure food. But MAa-


dame de Genlis had always accustomed her pupils
to rise early, live plainly, and take a great deal of
exercise. So the people who saw the travellers
never suspected that they were other than common
people, and they passed through France in safety.
Once, at a place called Mons, the princess and the
niece, fell sick with the measles. They had very
poor accommodations; they had no waiting maid,
and only one man servant. The little inn where
they staid was full of company, and none of the
servants could attend to them. They could get
neither nurse nor doctor for some days. But Ma-
dame had studied medicine, and was an excellent
nurse. She knew what medicines to give; she
knew how to take care of them, and they got safely
through the disease.
Madame de Genlis, a lady of quality, the friend
of the royal family, the governess of the prin-
cesses, did not know, when she studied medicine,
and learned how to take care of the sick, that she
was ever likely to be staying at a mean tavern, with
two sick children to nurse, and nobody to help her.
But she made it the rule of her life to acquire all the
useful knowledge she could; and in time of need, she
reaped the advantage of it, and so did her pupils.


I The young prince afterwards supported him-
self, for fifteen months, by teaching mathematics at
a college in Switzerland."
Well for him that he had such a good gover-
ness," said Clara. "But, mother, when will you
get us the account books and cooking things?"
I shall, perhaps, be able to get you some of
the things to-morrow. I will give you paper, and
show you how to make the account books, this
Kings and queens have their troubles, you see,
as well as other people," remarked Jane to Clara,
as they were folding up their work.


MRs. HOWELL never needed to be put in mind of
her promises; so, when the next morning's lessons
had been said, she told her daughters to put on
their bonnets, and she would take them to the tin-
man's, and the china store. Jane and Clara gladly
hastened to make themselves ready. They were
standing on the door step, waiting for their mother,


who was drawing on her gloves as she stood in the
open door, when a little girl, ragged and barefooted,
crossed tile street, and came up to the steps. Mrs.
Howell spoke to her, and said, "Well, Susy, how
are you, and how is your mother?"
She's dreadful sick, ma'am," said the little
girl, and her eyes filled with tears. She's been
terrible bad all night, and she says, please ma'am,
will you give her a little tea?" And Susy held out
a cracked tea cup which she carried in her hand.
How long has your mother been sick, 8usy?"
inquired Mrs. Howell.
Since last Sunday," replied Busy; and Mosey's
sick too: and mammy can't get out of bed: and we
ha'n't had any breakfast."
Go into the kitchen, Susy," said Mrs. Howell,
and tell Martha to give you some breakfast. You
must wait a little, my dears," speaking to her chil-
dren, "before I can go out with you. I must make
some gruel for poor Sarah, and go to see how she
really is."
May we go with you, mother ?" said Jane.
"Yes; and mean time, Clara, you may come
into the kitchen with me, and take your first lesson
in cooking for the sick."


Mrs. Howell took off her bonnet and gloves, tied
on an apron, turned up her sleeves, and went into
the kitchen, followed by Clara. Susy was already
seated at a little table, with a bowl of coffee before
her, and in her hand a large slice of bread and but-
ter, which she was causing to disappear very rapidly.
Clara asked her mother what she was going to
Oatmeal gruel," said her mother.
Then Mrs. Howell opened a closet, and took out
a small saucepan. She wiped it with a clean coarse
towel; then she poured water into the saucepan,
rinsed it, and threw the water out. Then she
poured about a quart of cold water into the sauce-
pan; she put a small piece of lemon peel into the
water, put on the lid of the saucepan, raked out
some bright coals, and set the saucepan on them.
Then she opened a pantry, where a great many
jars, canisters, and boxes, were standing on shelves,
all covered closely, and having names written on
paper, pasted on their outsides. Mrs. Howell
opened a canister marked OATMEAL, and took out
two table-spoonfuls of the meal, which she put into
a bowl. Clara looked at the oatmeal, and saw that
it was a coarse brownish flour.


What is oatmeal made of, mother?" said
It is the flour of ground oats. Wheat flour is
the meal of ground wheat."
Do people ever make bread of oatmeal,
mother ?"
"In Scotland they make the oatmeal into cakes.'
Are they nice ?" inquired Clara.
I do not know. I never tasted them," said
her mother.
I think they must be nice," said Clara, if
they are as good as oatmeal gruel."
Mrs. Howell poured water little by little upon
the oatmeal in the bowl, and mixed the water and
meal with a spoon. At first the mixture was very
thick, like dough, but Mrs. Howell added a little
more water, and a little more, until she had poured
in about a pint, stirring it all the time, until the
meal and water became a smooth, thin batter.
"Why don't you put in all the water at once
mother?" asked Clara.
Because the batter would be full of lumps, and
hard to mix. Oatmeal gruel is not good unless it
be perfectly smooth."
By this time the water in the saucepan was


boiling. Mrs. Howell took off the lid of the sauce-
pan, and poured the batter slowly out of the bowl
into the boiling water, stirring it all the time.
When it seemed thoroughly mixed, she left off
stirring, and looked at the clock.
"Mother, how long must it boil?" said Clara.
It must boil slowly and constantly, for fifteen
or twenty minutes," answered her mother.
Then Mrs. Howell went into the pantry again.
She opened a large, deep, stone pan, and took out
a loaf of bread. She cut two thin slices from the
loaf, put them into an iron toaster, and set the
toaster before the fire.
Let me mind the toast, mother; I won't let it
burn," said Clara.
So Clara watched the toast, while her mother
brought out a little tin kettle, with a tight cover,
and a swing handle. She wiped it, as she had
done the saucepan, with a clean towel, set it on
the table, and put a little hair sieve over it. She
took the saucepan off the coals, and let it stand for
a few minutes. During this time a thick scum
formed on the surface of the gruel. Mrs. Howell
took off the scum with a spoon, and poured the
gruel gently through the sieve into the kettle. It


was nice, thin, smooth gruel, without any lumps ot
meal, which make gruel unwholesome, as well as
Then she put sugar into the gruel; she tasted
it, and .nen she thought it was sweet enough, she
put on the lid of the kettle.
"Mother," said Clara, "why don't you grate
nutmeg into the gruel, as you used to do for me."
Sarah may have fever," replied Mrs. Howell,
"and in that case, nutmeg would not be good for
Mrs. Howell then folded the toast in a napkin,
and put it into a little basket. This basket, and
the tin kettle, were kept on purpose to send with
nice things to any of their poor neighbours, who
were sick. Susy, who had finished her breakfast,
was going to carry them; but Jane begged to
carry the kettle, and Clara asked leave to take the
basket. Mrs. Howell gave Susy another basket,
containing some bread and cold meat for herself
and her brother, and they set off. Mrs. Howell
stopped by the way at the Doctor's house, and
asked him to come and see Sarah.
They had not far to go; only down a lane, and
past two or three fields. It was a poor little cabin


of a house, with only two small, close rooms. It
stood in the middle of a little square of garden
ground, but the withering, weed-choked plants,
showed that there was no one to take care of them
properly. A boy of three years old was sprawling
on the door-sill, playing with a half-starved kitten.
They heard from within the house, the moans of
the sick woman, and the screams of her baby.
"Stay here, Jane and Clara," said their mother,
when they reached the garden gate. "You must
not come in, until I see whether Sarah's disease be
infectious, or not."
Why mother," said Jane, catching her mother's
gown to detain her, "you are going in."
It is my duty, dear," said Mrs. Howell, gently
disengaging her gown from Jane's grasp; but it
is not yours. We should not shrink from risks
when it is our duty to meet them; but we have no
right to endanger ourselves or others, needlessly.
Stay here, unless I call you."
Mrs. Howell went into the house, and presently
came to the door, and beckoned to her daughters
to come in. She had ascertained that there was no
danger, either for them, or for herself.
It was a miserable little place; the loose boards


of the floor tilted up as they walked, rag were
stuffed into the broken windows, and dead flies lay
about the window-ledge. There was a little fire
smouldering on the hearth. Mrs. Howell lifted up
an iron pot that stood in a corner, and hung it over
the embers. Then she directed little Susy to bring
in chips, and keep up the fire. She saw a bucket,
with an earthen mug in it, standing on a bench;
she told Jane to take that bucket to the pump in
the yard, fill it with water, and let Clara help her
to bring it in, and place it on the hearth. Then to
take the earthen mug, and fill the pot with water.
The little boy had already found his way to the
basket, and was devouring a piece of meat, biting
off a little bit every now and then to give to his
Mrs. Howell then returned to the inner room.
She had already opened the window wide; she
propped up the poor woman in bed, and seeing
that she was faint with hunger, she poured some of
the gruel into a cup, and held it to her mouth.
Sarah drank it eagerly, and said faintly that it was
very good. Mrs. Howell then took up the scream
ing baby. She fed it with gruel, and the poor
famished little thing fell asleep on her lap, almost


with the spoon between its lips. Mrs. Howell laid
it gently in the cradle.
When the water was hot, Mrs. Howell asked
Busy if she had an old pail.
"None but the water-pail," said Susy.
"Any tub ?" asked Mrs. Howell.
No tub; but mammy has a half-firkin that she
does her washing in."
The firkin was brought, and filled with warm
water. Sarah was lifted up, and her feet put into
the water. Mrs. Howell found a little vinegar, in
a black bottle, in the cupboard. She bathed the
sick woman's hands and face with warm water and
vinegar, Jane holding the basin, and Clara sitting
by the cradle, watching her mother's proceedings,
and ready to rock, if the baby should stir. Then
Mrs. Howell shook up the bed; she had brought
a clean pillowcase with her, she put it on the
pillow, and helped Sarah into bed. The poor
woman drew a sigh of relief as she laid down her
bead; she looked thankfully at Mrs. Howell, but
she was too feeble to speak.
Now shut your eyes, and try to go to sleep,"
said Mrs. Howell, smiling kindly at Sarah. I will
sit by you for a while, and take care of Mosey when


he wakes. Jane, do you know where Betsy Wood
"Yes, ma'am; just at the corner of the lane,
where it crosses the south road," answered
"Go over there, and tell Betsy I wish to see
her; if she can Epare time to come here. Clara
may go with you, if she likes."
But Clara preferred staying with her mother,
and Jane went by herself. While she was gone,
Dr. Clare came to see Sarah. He approved of all
that had been done, but said that Sarah was very
ill, dangerously ill
If she is carefully nursed," said the Doctor,
"she may recover. I will do what I can for her,
but all depends upon good nursing for the next
twenty-four hours. I am glad to see you here,
Mrs. Howell."
The doctor brought a little box out of his gig
and took out some small blue papers, very neatly
folded, and something wrapped up in a larger
paper. "You must give her this immediately,"
said the doctor, pointing to the large paper; and
she must take one of these powders, once in every
two hours, through the night. She may take a


little gruel, and drink weak tea or lemonade, if
she feels thirsty."
The doctor then bade Mrs. Howell good morn-
ing, got into his gig, and drove off. Presently
Jane came back with Betsy Wood.
Betsy Wood was a decent old woman. She
readily agreed to stay and nurse Sarah that day;
but she could'nt stay all night, no how. She
had to be off next morning at six o'clock, to help
Mrs. Berry clean house. Indeed, she could scarcely
leave home all day to-day, only to oblige Mrs.
Howell, and Sarah, that needed a friend, poor
body 1"
Can you stay till eight o'clock this evening,
Betsy ?" asked Mrs. Howell.
Betsy said she could.
"Then," said Mrs. Howell, "I will come at
eight o'clock, and sit up with Sarah all night."
Laws! Mrs. Howell," said the old woman,
"that's just like you. Well, our Polly will be
home to-morrow; perhaps she would do to nurse
Sarah a while."
Polly is a good careful girl," said Mrs. Howell,
and if she will come to-morrow, I shall not be
afraid to trust Sarah to her nursing."


Sarah was now in a deep sleep. She felt that
friends were near her, and as her worried mind
found rest, her body rested also. Mrs. Howell
directed Betsy to keep her as quiet as possible; to
wash the child when he awoke, and feed him with
the gruel. She hung up the cradle quilt before
the window, to keep the light from Sarah's aching
eyes, and she sprinkled the floor with vinegar.
She told Betsy that she would find food for the
elder children in the basket; then she bade her
good bye, and walked back to the village.


MOTHE," said Jane as they walked, "Sarah
seems very poor."
She is very poor," replied Mrs. Howell.
"What makes her so poor?" asked Clara.
"It is an old story, my dear, and soon told. A
drunken husband, who ill-used her, and wasted
her earnings, as well as his own, in drink."
"WVhy did'nt she go away from him?" said


"A mother's loe hindered her, Clara. She had
no power to take her children, if he did not choose
to give them up, and she preferred to endure any
suffering, rather than leave her children without a
"Where is her husband now ?" said Jane.
"Dead. He died five weeks ago; and poor
Sarah's illness was brought on, I suppose, by the
fatigue of nursing him, and working hard, without
sufficient food."
Oh I mother," said Clara," won't you send her
a good supply of things, and hire somebody to
nurse her ?"
I cannot, Clara. All the money I can spare
this month, from household expenses, I have
already promised to you and Jane, to buy your
little cooking utensils, and dinner set."
The little girls looked- at each other. They
hesitated but a moment, and then both exclaimed
at once-
Mother, take the money and give it to poor
Sarah. We will do without the things."
How happy parents feel when their children act
thus I
My darlings," said their mother, giving a hand


to each, I cannot kiss you in the street, but my
heart kisses you. Oh 1 how glad I am, to see my
children willing to deny themselves, for the sake
of their afflicted fellow-creatures."
"Then you will spend the money for Sarah
mother ?" said Jane.
"Certainly," answered her mother; "but as I
had, in my own mind, given the money to you, it
is your charity, not mine."
How much will it be ?" asked Clara.
"The things that I meant to buy for you to-
day," said Mrs. Howell, "would have cost about
fifteen shillings and sixpence."
"Can you hire a nurse for Sarah with that
much money ?" said Jane.
Yes. Polly Wood will stay with her a week, if
you give her five shillings. You can provide all the
little comforts she and the baby are likely to need,
for the rest of the money; and I can give the chil-
dren broken victuals enough to feed them, until
their mother gets well."
And may we buy the things now," said Clara,
"and take them to her?"
"Yes," replied her mother. "I will go with
you at once."


Without a single wishful look, the children
passed the tin shop and the china store. They
felt happier than all the toys in the world could
have made them.
Their purchases were made, and neatly packed
in the basket Clara carried. Mrs. Howell had
paid for them, and was turning to leave the store,
when Clara's eyes, which had been wandering over
the contents of the grocery, rested on a box full of
lemons and oranges. She touched her mother's
hand, and whispered, "Mother, would'nt Sarah
like an orange ?"
"Well thought of," said Mrs. Howell. "Oranges
are very refreshing to people in fevers; you had
better buy some."
"How many, mother?"
"Two are enough at a time, and two lemons to
make her some drink."
The lemons and oranges.were bought, and added
to the contents of their basket. Clara and Jane took
their gifts to Sarah, and their mother went home.
After dinner, they brought out their little ac-
count books, and the first entries they made there-
in, were of the monies they had expended for poor
Sarah Matthews.


They had bought

a) pound of tes, at 4 per lb.
Sb. coffee, -
S lb. brown ugar, at Bd. per found,
1lb. rice,
4 b. oatmeal,
Arrowroot for the baby,
Total, .

- 15
- 010
0 a

And when we have paid five shillings to the
nurse," said Jane, "that will make ten shillings
and fourpence."
"Then how much shall we have left, out of
fifteen shillings and sixpence ?" said Clara.
Jane took her slate, and set down fifteen shil-
ls and sixpence, and under it ten shillings and
fourpene, thus:-

1i I
10 4

Then she subtracted the under line from the
upper line, and found the remainder to be, five
shillings and twopence.
"That's a great deal of money," said Clara, look-
ing very prudent. "What else had we best buy
for Sarah, mother ?


"I advise you, my dears," replied their mother,
"to spend no more money at present. Before
Barah has used all you have sent her to-day, per-
haps she may need something we do not think of
now; or you may find somebody else in distress.
Now take your sewing, dears, and sit quietly; I
am going to lie down, and try to sleep for an hour,
that I may be wide awake to-night, and able to
nurse Sarah faithfully."
While Mrs. Howell slept, her daughters worked
and talked.
"We ought not to give up learning to cook, and
to keep house," said Clara, "because we have
given up buying our own cooking things, and din-
ner set."
"I think not," said Jane, but I think we may
learn to cook without putting father and mother to
any expense."
"How ?" asked Clara. "I have thought of a
way, but what have you thought of?"
"Tell me your way first," said Jane.
"Well," said Clara, "you know mother has
little saucepans, and little earthen pans, and six
dear little patty pans, and two little pots that we
can lift easily; and there's the little frying pan,


that Martha calls her frying pan. Now, I dare
say mother will lend us these when we want them,
if we take care of them, and clean them nicely
when we have done using them. And we have
our tea-set, you know; and you have the six real
tea-spoons that grandmother gave you, and I know
mother will lend us some of her plates, to set out
our table, when we want to have a dinner. Hey,
Jane, what do you think?"
Why, I think you have contrived very well,
and it's exactly like what I thought," replied
"No! is it though? Well, I'm glad we think
just alike."
"And I told Martha," said Jane, "how much
we wanted to learn all about house-keeping, and
she was pleased, and said she would show me how
to make bread, the very next time she baked.
And I shall make two little loaves, Clar; one
for you, and one for me."
"I wish they were baked now; this very mi-
nute," said Clara.

mrT 's VTsIT.


SPLEASANT news for you, girls," said Philip
Howell to his sisters. Mr. and Mrs. Archer are
going to Philadelphia, to consult some great doctor
there about Mrs. Archer's health. They started
this morning."
Why should that be pleasant news to us?"
said Jane.
"Oh! I have not told you the pleasant news
yet," replied Philip. "Henry went with them;
they will be away for five or six months, and Ruth
is to stay with us till they come back."
"Oh that is good news I" said Clara, jumping
up and clapping her hands. "When is she com-
ing, Philip?"
"This evening. Thomas is to take the cart
over for her piano and trunks. I am to take
charge of the dear ponies while Henry is gone;
and I shall gallant the ponies and Ruth, myself."
Rath and the ponies, you should say, brother,"
observed Clara.
Why, Mi Critic F" asked Philip.


Did'nt you tell me the other day always to
name the most excellent thing first ?"
Well," said Philip, laughing, "a'n't ponies
more excellent things than girls?"
"Oh Philip I Philip r' said Jane; "if Mrs.
Bell heard you, she would never call you that very
polite Master Howell' any more."
"What you too, Miss Prim.t" replied Philip;
well then, say I put her in last by way of cli-
I don't know what a climax is," said Clara;
but I'm sure it can't be better than Ruth ?"
Ruth's a very nice girl," said her brother,
and the ponies are very nice ponies; and perhaps
I shall teach you and Jane to ride, while they
"Oh thank you, brother," exclaimed Clara.
"How I shall like to sit on pretty Mabel's
"You may come with me, girls," said their
mother, as she passed by the parlour door, and
help to get Ruth's room ready."
The sisters gladly obeyed, for it was a labour of
love to them to prepare for the accommodation ot
Ruth Archer. Jane arranged the toilet, and filled

ZUTH's vTI1T. 67

the ewers with water; and then she and Clara went
into their garden, and cut their prettiest flowers to
adorn the mantelpiece.
When the sun was getting low, Philip went to
bring Ruth; and before tea time the ponies were
settled in the stable, the piano in the front parlour,
and Ruth in her pretty bedroom.
Ruth never had been parted from her parents
before, for more than a few days at a time. She
felt the loss of their society, and when, to the pain
of that loss, was added anxiety about her dear mo-
ther's health, no wonder her heart was heavy. It
was Ruth's first sorrow.
But Ruth was a sincerely pious girl. She knew
her duty to herself, and to the kind friends whose
house was to be, for some time, her home. She
knew that since her mother was ill, she ought to
be thankful that they could afford the expense of
taking her where she could get the best medical
advice. She knew that since the will of God bad
removed her for a time from her father's roof, she
was greatly privileged in being permitted to dwell
with friends who loved her, and whose principles,
habits, and manners, were like those of her own
good parents.


When Ruth was left alone in her bed-room, she
bolted the door, sat down in a chair beside the bed,
and burst into tears. But after a few minutes she
conquered her emotions, and dried her eyes.
Now," thought she, is the time to begin to
practise the self-control my dear, dear parents
have tried to teach me. But oh I cannot, I can-
not, without Divine help."
Ruth got up from her chair, and knelt down be-
fore it, leaning her face on her clasped hands. She
prayed earnestly and humbly to be instructed in
her duty, and made able to perform it. The tears
trickled fast down her face while she prayed, but
when she rose from her knees she felt comforted.
She took off her riding-habit, brushed her hair,
bathed her face and hands in cool water, and pre-
pared to join the family at the tea-table.
The next morning, when Jane and Clara were
up and dressed, they asked their mother if they
might go to Miss Archer's room, and see if she
wanted any thing. Their mother said they m;ght,
if they would behave discreetly. "For remem-
ber," said she, even attentions become oppres-
sive, if offered in a wrong manner, or at a wrong

EBTH's VIIt. 89

Mother," said Jane, we will go quietly, and
tap at her door. If she don't answer, we will come
away. If she lets us in, I shall ask her if she wants
any thing, or if we can do any thing for her. If
she is reading, or seems not to want to be inter-
rupted, and says she does not want any thing, we
will come away."
Very well," said their mother. If you do so,
your attentions, being well timed and properly
offered, will no doubt be acceptable."
When Jane tapped at Ruth's door, Ruth opened
it. She was dressed, the window curtain was put
aside, and a chair stood before the reading-table,
on which lay Ruth's open Bible. So Jane con-
cluded that Ruth was engaged. She said-
Good morning, Miss Archer, we came to ask
how you are, and if we can do any thing for
I am quite well, dear, thank you," answered
Ruth, and she stooped down and kissed each of the
girls. After breakfast, if you like, you shall help
me to unpack my trunks."
We shall be very glad to help you," said Jane
and Clara both at once, and we will not hinder
you now."

60 THu sWlAP BOOKs.

So Jane and Clara went down stairs, and Ruth
sat down again to her Bible. She rose early, and
always gave an hour before breakfast to the study
of the Holy Book.



AFTrE breakfast, Ruth took the girls to her room,
and they helped her to unpack her trunks. Jane
hung up her frocks in the wardrobe, and Clara
handed the books to Ruth, who arranged them
in the neat book-case which stood in a recess.
Among the books, were three large square vo-
lumes, half-bound; two smaller ones, bound in
morocco, and gilt on the edges of the leaves, and
two portfolios.
Miss Archer," said Clara, may I ask you a
question ?"
As many as you please," replied Ruth, only
don't call me Miss Archer so formally. Call me


"May I call you Ruth always?" said the lit-
tle girl. "How nice that will be; just like a
And I will love you like a sister;" said Ruth,
putting her arm round Clara. And you too dear
Jane," holding out the other arm to Jane, who
sprang into her embrace, and the three hugged
each other heartily.
"But your question, Clara, what is it ?" said
Ruth at last.
What are these big books for, Miss-Ruth. I
mean ?" said Clara.
The three largest volumes are filled with en-
gravings. The two smaller ones are scrap books,
and the portfolios hold my drawings.'
"I wi~s I could see all that is in them I Don't
you, Jane ?" exclaimed Clara.
"When it suits Ruth to show them to us," said
Jane; for she remembered her mother's caution,
and determined not to be troublesome.
"I will show you a part now," said Ruth, sitting
down on a low chair, and taking one of the books
on her lap, while Jane and Clara knelt one on each
side of her.
"This volume," said she, contains heads only.


Portraits of authors, and other distinguished per-
sons. One is filled with landscapes, and this one,"
touching the volume in her lap, I think you will
like best of the three. "See," continued Ruth,
opening the volume, "the tinted paper on which
the engravings are pasted, is interleaved with writ-
ing paper. These engravings represent scenes from
history, and I have accompanied each engraving
with an extract, either in prose or verse, describing
what the engraving represents."
"How very pretty I" said Jane. How I
should like to begin to make such a book."
So should I," said Clara.
"And I should like to help you," said Ruth.
"If you get books, I will give you some engrav-
ings to put in them, and help you to find such
pieces as you would wish to write."
"Thank you, dear Ruth," exclaimed both the
We need not make our books as large, nor as
handsome as these," said the prudent Jane, and
we could buy them out of our pocket money; and
we have got some engravings."
"I can't write well enough yet to write in my
book," said Clara.


"You must try to improve then, as fast as you
can," said Ruth. Meantime, you can paste in
your pictures, and leave the writing pages blank,
until you can fill them neatly. And you can
make a list of such pieces as you read, that will
suit your pictures."
"Now, will you please to read us something out
of your book ?" said Jane.
Miss Archer turned to the first page, and hiding
the title of the print with her hand, asked Jane if
she could guess the subject.
The print represented a stately woman, dressed
in flowing robes, with a crown on her head. She
was seated, and reading from a manuscript spread
out on her knee. A little boy, kneeling on her
foot-stool, and leaning against her lap, looked up
in her face, and seemed to listen with great atten-
tion to what she was reading.
"I think," said Jane, after she had looked at
the print for a little while, that it is King Alfred
of England, when he was a little boy, listening to
his mother reading a Saxon poem."
"You are right," said Miss Archer; and this
one ?" turning over the leaf as she spoke.
"Oh I yes," said Jane, laughing, that is King

Alfred letting the cakes burn, and the cottager's
wife scolding him."
"And this ?" said Ruth, turning another leaf.
"No," said Jane, "I never saw that before-
and yet it seems to me as if I recollect something
about it."
The engraving represented the interior of a rude
hut. A large fire blazed on the hearth, and beside
the fire, on a block of wood, sat a noble-looking
man, dressed in coarse garments. He held in his
hands an unrolled manuscript, as if he had been
reading, but his head was raised and turned to-
wards the door. A beautiful lady held the door
half open, and a ragged, white-haired old man, who
stood without, seemed to be asking for shelter.
"This," said Ruth, "is another scene in the
history of King Alfred. When his army fled
before the victorious Danes, he and his queen,
with a few faithful followers, were hidden in this
hut. A poor old man begged alms of them, and
the good king divided with the beggar the only
loaf they had left. I will read you the poem be-
longing to the engraving. It was written for me
by a friend of my mother's, and has never been



Twas in the dawning glimmer of a cold and stormy day,
King Alfred to his followersa pake, in greenwood a they lay;
" Up! upl my lords and gentle; too late we linger here;
Who seeketh not his dinner, will And but sorry cheer."

They aid a hasty mati, a slender meal they shared,
And then for strife, or hunting, their weapons they prepared.
I trow it was a noble light, that nightly band to view!
So worn with war and famine, and yet so bold and true.

The king had bound his quiver on, his hand had grasp'd the bow,
When spake an ancient soldier-"My liege thou must not go.
For once, oh! sire, let royal will by loyal love be cront-
For should we loe or peril thee, then we Indeed were lost"

"Can I in craven Idlese wait, and crouch beside the fire,
While ye are agent to breast the storm, and toll through bush and
Elawltha, bring thy distaff here; for by my royal word,
Then would that weapon auit my hand, fsr better than a swore."

Then opake the queen Elswiths, and to her lord drew nigh;-
1t, list to wholesome counsel, sire, and lay thy weapons by.
Without thee, let our friends for once the tangled forest track;
Thou know't if weree a battle field, I would not hold thee back."

The king at lat conented, and forth went the galant train,
While wild and wilder blew the wind, and fater fell the rain
The queen addressed her to such toils a did their needs require,
While Alfred clare te oaken le, and eap'd the crackllng ir


Then st him down beside the blaze, and on a scroll did look,
When suddenly a cry there same that made him drop the book;
The door was op'd, and bending there, an aged beggar stood.
From whose white hair and tattered gown, the rain fell In flood.

They led him In-before the fre his aged limbs he spread,
And piteously entreated for a morsel of their bread.
King Alfred looked upon him with a kind and pitying eye,
And bade the queen Elawith the beggar's wants supply.

Then from Its careful hiding-place the loaf Elwiths brought,
And show'd it to King Alfred, saying-"Think'st thou I ought?
This loaf is all the food we have; and what will then remain,
If empty-handed from the quest thy followers come again?"

" Fair wife," repMed the monarch, "bestow on him the bread: -
With five small loaves and fishes twain, a multitude were fed.
And He who wrought that miracle, still heareth faithful prayer,
And He who feeds the ravens, of us will have a care."

Replied the queen Elewitha, and she spake in tones of grief-
" I shame me for my selfsh fear, and sinful unbellef
I should have sooner thought upon the holy father's word-
iWha m goeso piktho as poor, as InWLett Lord"

Then with her fngers small and fair, she brake the precious bread,
And to the aged suppliant in kindly accents said-
"Take half our store, good stranger, and pray that soon gain,
King Alfred's sword may lead the war, and quell the conquering

With many a fervent benison the beggar went his way;
The storm had eea'd, and quiet all within the forest lay;
When harkI the tramp of armed hoofs resounds upon the road.
And srried pea are glittering around that lone abode.


King Alfed selsed his battle-au, but as t at oo way-
IHe pied Northambria'I gallant Earl amid tat bold army,
And welom'd him with glad embrace; br well the monarch
That England own'd no champion, himself no friend so true.

"Now victory to England, and health to England's king,
Spears for our foes, food for oar friend, good new to thee. I
Thy scattered forces rally-they call fr thee amain-
And loon shall England's chivalry drive back the invading Dane."

Jane and Clara admired King Alfred, and were
glad that his charity was so well repaid. Clara
asked Ruth if she would give her leave to learn the
verses. Ruth said she would copy them for her,
and she might learn them at her leisure.
Then Ruth put aside her books, saying that she
must keep the rest of their contents for future
amusement. She showed them some of her draw-
ings, and gave each of them one. Jane's was a
pomegranate blossom, and Clara's a purple dahlia.
When all the trunks were unpacked, and every
thing put in its place, Clara asked Ruth, what she
was going to do next.
"I am going down stairs," said Ruth, "to find your
mother, and ask if I can do any thing to help her."
"And suppose she says no?" said Clara.

Then I shall go into the front parlour," answered
Ruth; "and if nobody be there, I shall practise on
the piano."
Why do you say if nobody be there" asked
Clara. "Don't you like to let people hear you
play ?"
"I have no objection," said Ruth, smiling, if
they wish to hear me, but people don't always wish
to hear music. So, unless I am asked to play, I
try to choose a time for practising, that will not
cause me to annoy or interrupt others."
We may come and listen to you, may'nt we?"
said Clara.
Certainly if you wish it," replied Ruth.
Mrs. Howell thanked Ruth for her offered assist-
ance. "This is a very busy time with me, said
she, "and your assistance, my love, will be very
valuable. You shall take an elder daughter's duty.
I have given these girls a holiday this morning, in
honour of your arrival; but if you will hear them
recite their morning lessons every day for the next
fortnight, you will do me a great service."
"Thank you, dear Mrs. Howell," said Ruth.
"You know I am used to regular employment, and
I shall be much happier, if I can make myself use-


ful. But as this is a holiday," continued Ruth,
speaking to the children, "I will do what you like
best, this morning."
"Oh then, come and play for us," said Jane
and Clara.
So Ruth, accompanied by her young friends, went
into the front parlour, and seated herself at the
piano. She played dances and marches, and sung
all their favourite songs; and the delighted girls
did not know how to thank her enough.
I wish I could play on the piano," said Jane,
"Suppose I teach you both," said Ruth.
"Oh I Miss Archer," exclaimed Jane, delighted;
"but it would be so troublesome, so tiresome to
Neither troublesome nor tiresome, if you would
really take pains to learn; but I warn you that it
will be hard work."
"I should be willing to work hard, ray hard,
indeed, to learn to play as well as you do," replied
Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Howell
came in, with her work-basket in her hand. She
sat down by the window, and took out her sewing.


"Mother," said Clara, "Ruth says she will
teach Jane and I to play on the piano."
Mrs. Howell looked grave.
"Have you any objection, Mrs. Howell?" said
Miss Archer.
Don't you think we could learn, mother?" said
You could, Clara," answered her mother; but
I am afraid you are too giddy to profit by Miss
Archer's kindness. I should not like to see her
time and trouble thrown away."
Jane's eyes filled with tears. "Mother," said
she, in a quivering voice, "are you going to say
that you don't want me to learn."
You shall judge for yourself, dearest," said her
mother, kindly; and she took hold of her daugh-
ter's hand, and drew her to her side.
Mrs. Howell spoke slowly and distinctly, and
Jane listened attentively.
"You are fond of music, Jane," aid Mrs.
Howell, "and you have uncommon patience and
perseverance. But you have little ear, and no
voice for music. You might and would no doubt,
learn to play, and perhaps to sing, with a certain
degree of skill You might attain what is called

A VsUrUL vISIToa. 71

a mechandca excellence of execution. But even
to persons who have what is called a genius for
music, it is a laborious and absorbing pursuit. It
demands, of course, a double share of time and
labour, from those who are deficient in natural
capacity for it. You could acquire even a moderate
knowledge of music, only by giving up much that
is pleasant, and much that you ought to know, of
other things. And after all, your playing and
singing would give pleasure only to persons who
know little of music. Those who are deficient in
musical taste, can scarcely imagine the annoyance
felt by the more highly gifted, while listening to
indifferent performers. If you had a fine voice,
and correct ear, I should deem it a duty to have
you instructed. But life is too short for us to
waste any portion of it in learning to do, what,
after all, we can scarcely do well. If you study
music, you will have less time to read, to work, to
walk, to be useful in the house, and to study there
accomplishments (drawing for instance,) for which
you really have a talent."
Is Jane fond of drawing?" inquired Ruth.
'" Very," replied her mother, "and without any
instruction, has made attempts that do her credit.


I mean that she shall take lessons, as soon w I can
make it convenient. Now, Jane, decide for your-
self, whether it will be well for you to study musio
or not."
The conduct of Mr. and Mrs. Howell, was habi-
tually such as to prove to their children that they
sincerely desired to see them good and happy, and
that their object in controlling them, was not merely
to exercise authority, but to teach them how to
govern themselves. They endeavoured in their
own actions, to set the example they wished to see
their children imitate, and though they strictly
enforced the observance of the rules they thought
necessary to the well-being of the family, they
never denied any request that could properly be
granted. Thus the children had onfidence in
their parents-the well-grounded confidence of
experience. And when Mrs. Howell stated to
Jane the reasons why she did not wish her to learn
music, Jane's mind was prepared to receive her'
mother's opinion with respect.
Still it was hard for her, (as it is for everybody,)
to decide against her own wishes. Happy they
who are early trained to subject wi to reason.
Jane stood still for a few moments, with her

A V@51IL vTsrIt. 73

eyes fixed on the carpet, and her mother's hand
held fast in hers. At last she looked up.
Mother," said she, slowly, "you are right, I
know. It would not do for me to give up reading,
and sewing, and other things. I should grow up
ignorant and useless, like the lady father called a
musical automaton. I don't want to be a musical
automaton. Mother, I won't learn music--but- -
Tears started into her eyes, and she bit her lip.
"You are a dear wise girl," said Ruth, looking
affectionately at Jane, "and since you have a
taste for drawing, suppose I teach you to draw,
"Will you be so kind, Ruth," exclaimed Jane,
brightening. "Oh I then I shan't regret the music,
and I'll try very, vey bard to learn. I do love to
"And what's to become of me, mother?" said
Clara, so dolefully, that they all smiled.
Why," said Ruth, "as you have an ear and a
voice, I shall coax your mother to let you make a
beginning. But remember, if you are not very
steady, indeed I shall give it up."
I'll try," said Clara, for I want to learn.'


So it was settled that Ruth should give Jane
lessons in drawing, and Clara lessons in music.
"And," said Jane, "while Ruth is teaching
Clara, if I can get some notion of music, without
neglecting anything else, you have no objection to
that, mother ?"
"None whatever," said Mrs. Howell. "I do
not wish you to attempt to become a musician, for
the reasons I have given; but if you can learn any
thing of the theory of music, so much the better.
Learn all that can properly be learned, about every
thing. Learning is light to carry about.'"
That night, when Jane went up to bed, she
found on her bureau a parcel folded in a paper,
and directed to her in her father's hand.
Jane tore off the covering. The parcel contain-
ed a beautiful box of paints, a drawing book, and
an excellent assortment of drawing pencils.
Happy Jane Howell!

"JANE I Jane I where are you ?
"Here, at the bottom of the stain."

OLAA PuZsS19. 75

Clar appeared in the upper entry, looking over
the banisters.
"Jane," said she, "I want you to come and
play at battledore with me."
I can't now," said Jane. "I am busy shelling
the dry peas for father."
"Are you? then I'll come and help you. I
like to shell peas."
Clara came down, and took her seat beside her
sister. She laid her battledore on the step above
her, took a double handful of the peas, laid them
in her lap, and began to shell them, putting the
peas into a little tin pan, and the shells into a large
wicker basket.
The hall in which they sat was wide, cool, and
airy; the family often sat there in warm summer
afternoons. Ruth and Philip were drawing, Mr.
Howell reading a newspaper, and Mrs. Howell
making a cap.
"Now Jane," said Clara, "while we are shelling
the peas, I'll give out some riddles for you to gums.
I can give out riddles like any moth."
"Like any moth I" repeated Jane; that's not
at all, then. How can moths make riddles ?"
"I don't know; but they can; they certainly

can. You need not look so unbelieving, Jane.
It is true."
"Why, Clara Moths are insects. It takes
reason to make riddles, and insects have nothing
but instinct."
"They can make riddles, any how," persisted
Clara, "and guess them, too. Indeed they can,
"But how do you know?" said Jane. "I
never heard of any such thing. Who told you so?"
Miss Archer told me so. Didn't you Ruth ?"
Me, my dear I" said Ruth, looking up from
her drawing, certainly not."
Oh yes, indeed you did, Ruth; don't you
remember I Last Wednesday, when you showed
me beautiful butterflies in your drawing book."
I remember showing you the book, but I cer-
tainly never told you that moths could make rid-
Not them, because they were dead, they were
painted moths," cried Clara, striving in vain to
make herself understood; "but such moths, if
they were alive, could make riddles."
My dear Moppet," said Philip, you are cer-
tainly crasy."


"I am no such thing, Philip. Am I, mother?
Am I crazy ?"
I hope not, my dear," said her mother, only
mistaken; but your little ideas have got into a tan-
gle, I think. Come to me, and I will try to find
out the riddle of your puzzle."
Clara's riddle is worthy of the Sphynx herself,
I think," said Philip, going on with his drawing.
The Sphynx I" exclaimed Clara. There
now I Miss Archer, didn't you tell me that the
beautiful large moth you showed me, was called
the Bhynx."
"I did," said Ruth.
Philip threw down his pencil, leaned back in his
chair, and burst into a long, loud, and it seemed to
Clara, a very provoking laugh, in which Miss
Archer, after a moment's pause, joined heartily;
nor could Mr. and Mrs. Howell refrain from smil-
ing. Clara looked from one to the other, and felt
ready to cry.
"I know where she is now," said Philip, and
then he laughed again.
What else did you ever hear said about the
Sphynx, love?" said Mrs. Howell, resuming her
gravity, and putting her arm round her little girl

"Mother," said Clara, "don't you remember,
last week, when Miss Sherburne came to see you,
I was sitting by you, sewing, and she showed yon
a letter, and you and she laughed, and then she
said, 'the Sphynx's riddle was easier to guess than
the contents of these,'-some kind of leaves,
mother; I don't remember the word."
Sybilline leaves ?" said Mrs. Howell.
"Yes, ma'am, that was it, and I wanted to know
what the Sphynx's riddle was, that I might try to
guess it, and I was going to ask you, but you got
up and went out with Miss Sherburne; and after.
wards I forgot it, till Ruth showed me the painted
moths, and told me one of them was a Sphynx.
Then, I thought if that was a Sphynx, and Sphynxes
made riddles, moths could make riddles-and-you
need not laugh so, Philip."
No, indeed; I need not, and I ought not, my
dear little sister," replied Philip, trying to com-
pose his countenance; "many worse guesses than
yours have been made, and to make up for my
rudeness, I'll draw the Sphynx's picture for you
and tell you the history of her famous riddle."
Oh I thank you, Philip," exclaimed Clara, for
giving the laughter of her brother; "and while


you are drawing the Sphynx, I'1 help to finish the
Philip took a sheet of drawing paper, and began
to sketch the Sphynx. For some time the party
pursued their several occupations in silence. At
last, Philip called Clara to him, and held up the
drawing he had made.
It represented a creature having the face of a
woman, the body of a dog, the wings of a bird, and
the claws of a lion.
"Is that horrid thing a Sphynx ?" said Jane,
who had risen to look at it.
It is the Sphynx," replied Philip, the maker
of enigmas."
Tell me about it, please, Philip," said Clara,
leaning against her brother's knee, and looking up
in his face.
"The Sphyx, then," said Philip, "was a fright-
ful witch-"
"As you here see," interrupted Ruth, pointing
to the sketch. Philip smiled, nodded, and went
"A witch who lived near the ancient city of
Thebes. She gave out riddles, and killed the peo-
ple who could not guess them. At last she put


forth a riddle, which she believed nobody could
Do you know what it was, brother ?"
"Yes, it was this. What animal is it, that walks
on four feet in the morning, on two feet at noon, and
three feet at night."
I mean to try to find it out. Don't tell me,"
said Clara, but go on with the story. Did any
body ever guess it ?"
"Yes, after a long while, (Edipus, the son of
Laius, king of Thebes, found out the meaning.
The Sphynx was so enraged, that after foretelling
all manner of misfortunes to (Edipus, she threw
herself down a precipice, and was dashed to pieces."
How glad the people of that country must have
been," said Clara, gazing at the picture. I won-
der they were not afraid to go to bed at night,
thinking such an ugly thing was living near them."
You must remember," said her father, "that
such creatures never had any existence, except in
the imagination of poets and tale-tellers."
"What made them imagine such frightful crea-
tures ?" aid Clara.
"Before writing was invented," said Mr. Howell,
"when people wished to send a message to a


friend, if they did not choose to tell it in words to
the messenger, they drew a picture of what they
wanted to tell, and sent it, as we send letters now.
But of course, it was very difficult to say exactly
what they meant; for we cannot make pictures of
our feelings and thoughts. So by and bye they
thought of conveying their meaning by symbol.
You know the meaning of a symbol or emblem, don't
you ?"
Not exactly, father," answered Clara.
"Do you, Jane ?"
I believe so, sir," answered Jane.
"Try to tell me what you think is meant by it."
"I believe it means, describing something we
think of, by likening it to something that we can
Yes. Describing things ideal, by likening them
to things material Our thoughts and feelings are
called ideal; they exist only in the mind; they
cannot be perceived by the senses. That is, they
cannot be touched, heard, smelt, seen, or tasted."
"They can be heard, father, when you tell us
what you are thinking about," aid Clara.
No, my thoughts are not heard, only the word
by which I express them. Words are not thout


but picture of thoughts. Can you give me an
example of an emblem, Jane.
Yes, sir. I read to-day that modest virtue is
like a violet."
Why ?"
"Because, when people are really good, they
don't try to show it. They are quite still about it,
but they do good actions, and other people find it
out, and judge that they are good. And so the
violet don't try to show its pretty blue flowers; it
keeps them under ths broad green leaves, but the
sweet smell tells where they are."
Pretty well illustrated. I think you under-
I understand now, too," said Clara, who had
been listening with all her might.
Well, now you know the use of symbols. To
describee what is thought, by something that can be
seen. For instance; to express impossibility, the
Egyptians drew two feet on the surface of some
water; meaning, that such or such a thing was as
impossible as for a man to walk on the water. A
flower in the bud represents Hope; a woman weep.
ing expresses Grief, and so on.
This was certainly an improvement on picture-


writing, but still it could not convey our meaning
so clearly as speaking. So the next invention was
to make marks to express the sounds we make
when we speak. These marks are called the letters
of the alphabet. Letters are pictures of spoken
sounds. Words, whether written or spoken, are
pictures of thoughts. When we put letters to-
gether, we make words; words we arrange into
sentences; and in this way we are able to convey
our meaning when we speak, or to write down
upon paper any thing that can be spoken."
"In countries where they have no alphabets,
they do all their writing by pictures and symbols,
don't they ?" said Clara.
"Yes. Have you not sometimes heard people
say, as greedy as a pig, as cunning as a fox, as
fierce as a lion?"
Yes, sir, often."
"In picture-writing they would draw a greedy
person with the head of a pig. A lion would be
the emblem of a brave man a crafty man would be
likened to a fox; a king whose power was of great
extent, would be drawn with very long arms.
Passing from hand to hand, and from mouth to
mouth, these descriptions would be gradually


associated with the person, as well as the mind of
the one spoken of. And hence, I think, originated
the descriptions of monsters in the ancient poets."
"Then, father," said Clara, "the Sphynx had
not really the head of a woman, the body of a dog,
the wings of an eagle, and the claws of a lion."
"If she lived at all," replied her father, "she
was most likely a beautiful and wicked woman."
"Father," said Philip, who had been looking at
the article Sphynx in the Classical Dictionary,
" she is said to have been a female pirate, who
landed at Anthedon, a town on the shore of the
Euripas; advanced to the Phicean Hill, and ra-
vaged the country. (Edipus came from Corinth
with an army, defeated, and slew her."
Then," said Mr. Howell, "I suppose she was a
beautiful and wicked woman. The dog was con-
sidered an unclean beast, therefore the dog's body
represents her wicked way of life; the eagle's
wings, her swift movements from place to place;
and the lion's claws, her cruelty and fierceness."
Philip," said Clara, "tell me the riddle again,
if you please."
Philip repeated the Sphynx's riddle again. Clara
set herself to guess it but after puzzling for a long,


or what seemed to her a long time, she gave it up,
and asked Philip to tell her the answer.
Philip told her that the animal is MAN, who
creeps on hands and feet when he is a baby, walks
upright when he is grown, and uses a cane to sup-
port him when he is old and infirm.
And life is the day, I suppose. Morning when
we are babies, noon when we grow up, and night
when we grow old," said Clara. "Well, it's a very
good riddle, but the Sphynx need not have killed
herself about it."
Not if (Edipus had been no quicker at guess-
ing than you are," said Philip.
"Now, Philip I-Miss Archer, do you know any
"Plenty," said Ruth, who was putting up her
drawing materials.
"Please to tell me some, will you, Ruth?"
"Another time, dear. I cannot now, for Philip
and I are going to ride over to Miss Graham's.
Thomas has brought round the ponies, I see, and I
must make haste to put on my habit."
"And when we come back, Clara," said Philip,
"I will give you and Jane a lesson in horseman-

80 ifDDLEB.

Clar skipped for joy when she heard that, and
Jane said-
"Horseuomanship, it should be, Philip."


APrER tea, Jane and Clara reminded Miss Archer
that she had said she knew plenty of riddles, and
they asked her to tell them some.
Mis Archer took out of her work-basket a little
book bound in blue morocco, and turned over the
leaves. What kind of a riddle will you have,"
said she. An anagram, a rebus, a charade, or
an enigma?"
"What are all those ?" asked Jane.
"All puzzle, but explained by different rules,"
replied Ruth.
Tell us one of each kind," said Jane.
"Tell us first what each kind is," said Clara.
An anagram," aid Ruth, is made by taking
one or more words, and placing the letters that
spell them in different positions, so that they will
spell another word. Here is an anagram."


Cat sad Chloe so transpose
As only one word to compoes;
And then, my fried, youll bare ln view,
What I should like to drink with you.

"Cato and Chloe-Cato and Chloe-like to
drink," repeated Jane. "It can't be coffee, or
claret, or champagne."
Philip took out his pencil, wrote down the words,
and after considering them for a few moments, pro-
nounced the answer to be Chocolate.
Chocolate I chocolate I" said Clara; "now why
didn't I think of that. It seems so easy."
"When you know it," said Ruth. "Here is
another anagram. Find the Circle of Sciences in
A nice cold pye.
Profiting by her observation of Philip's mode of
proceeding, Jane wrote the words on a bit of paper;
then she cut the letters apart, and arranged them
in different words. At last she exclaimed-
"I have found it out, Ruth! Look, Clara:
The same letters that spell a nice cold pye, spell
Encyclopedia. And the dictionary says, that Ency-
clopedia means the Circle of Sciences."
"Your anagrams remind me of an anecdote,"
said Mr. Howell. "In the troubled reign of

Charles the First, a certain Dame Eleanor Davie,
took it into her head that she was inspired. She
undertook to prophesy, and talked a great deal of
nonsense, including some treason."
What is treason, father?" said Clara.
"Plotting treason is contriving plans to kill the
king, or take the kingdom away from him. Talk-
ing treason is to say that he deserves to loose his
throne, or his life. Dame Eleanor talked until she
was accused of evil designs against her sovereign
lord the king, and was brought for trial before the
court whose duty it was to try such offences. In
her defence, she said that she had received the
spirit of the Prophet Daniel, and that she was
obliged, in consequence of it, to say what she had
said. Being asked what proof she could give of
her divine inspiration, she said, that the letters of
her name, when anagramatized, form the words
'Revcal 0 Danie.' In those days of ignorance
and superstition, this nonsense was seriously con-
sidered, and it would have gone hard with the
crazy old lady, had not one of the judges, who had
more wit, and perhaps more merciful dispositions
than his colleagues, quietly observed that her name
formed another anagram, more exact than the one


she had discovered; thus, Dame Elenor Davies
-Never so mad a ladie.' This made the court
laugh; the complaint was dismissed, and Dame
Eleanor prophesied no more."
This seems strange to us," observed Mrs.
Howell; "but puzzles, which now serve only to
exercise the ingenuity of children, or amuse an
evening hour in a family circle, formerly obtained
the notice, and were among the recreations of
learned men. The Spectator has a very amusing
paper on the subject."
"Now an enigma, if you please, Ruth," said
"All puzzles are enigmas," said Ruth, "but an
enigma, properly so called, is a description pur-
posely obscure, by which you must guess the
name of the thing described. Here is one that I
think very pretty."
SWthin a r as white as milk
Behind a curtain st as silk
A golden apple doth appear,
athd In a tbth ofarytal dear.
No dor nor window you behold.
Yet thoevwa brea in, and ste the gold.
Nobody could guess it, and Ruth told them it
was an egg.


The shell," said she, "is the milk-white waR;
the silken curtain is the delicate membrane that
lines the shell; the golden apple is the yolk, which
floats in the crystal bath of the white. You know
before the egg is cooked, the white is transparent
like crystal. When we crack the shell, and eat
the yolk, we are said to break in and steal the
When this riddle had been explained, and ad-
mired sufficiently, Philip told Ruth he thought he
could give her a riddle that she could not guess.
Clara and George thought that was impossible,
but Ruth was not so confident. She asked to
hear the riddle. It was this:
What tree has leaves, black on one side and
white on the other."
Ruth smiled and replied-
The Year, which is composed of days and
"There! there!" cried Clara and George, clap-
ping their hands, "Ruth has guessed it."
"No," said Ruth, "I did not guess it. I read
the answer in the same book where Philip read
the riddle. You found it in the Oriental Tales,
didn't you," said she, addressing Philip,

aIDDLU. 91

Philip sid he did.
Mr. Howell observed that putting forth riddles
and guessing them, was a pastime of great anti-
quity; and he mentioned the riddle set by Samp-
son for the Philistines to guess.
"Now tell us a charade, Ruth," said Jane.
"A charade," said Ruth, is formed by choos-
ing a word of two or more syllables, each syllable
of which would be a word by itself; as Bar-maid,
Wood-bridge. You must find out the words
called first and second, and unite them to make
the whole. Here is a charade.

Hushed was the booklet's summer song
And mute the mude of the woods;
Pst aew the gliding leighs along,
Peopling the mowy lolitude
With lightome step and merry look
Charles to mry mr the pathway took.
T"is ooen 'tls noon the bll has rung-
Away with Iate, sad book, and peat
Oh cheap delights of thoughtless young I
Come envr them, world-fettered mn.
is leane ena uhi sums ane reckoned,
Charles bonds away, my happy sarx


"Far, far at e," a stately shlp
Is o'er the azure wave careering;
With scowling brow and pllid Up,
That stately ship young Charles is steering.
There's blood upon the polished deck,
There's blood upon the steernman's clothing:
And Charles surveys a distant wrek.
With vain remorse and deep self-loathIng.
He thinks upon his mother's kis,
He thinks upon his father's blessing,-
What serpents In his bosom hissl
What demons are his brain possessing
While memory paints to his guilty soul,
The days of my young and innocent WHOLL
Mrs. Howell found out this charade. The
answer was school-boy.
And now," said Ruth, "if you want any more
riddles, I will lend you my book, and you can read
for yourselves. I have some sewing that I wish
to finish to-night."
But the writing in the blue book was very
small. Clara could not read writing very well,
neither could George. Mr. and Mrs. Howell
were busy, Philip was going out, and Jane wanted
to finish a frill she was hemming for her mother.
So they wisely determined to return the blue book
to its owner, and let the rest of its contents be


reserved for the amusement of another evening,
when Ruth should be at leisure to read them.
Then they got their slates and pencils, and played
at What will you give me for my horse."


" WHAT an unseasonable, uncomfortable evening
for August I" exclaimed Philip, as the branches of
the buttonwood bent and creaked in the wind, and
the rain dashed against the windows.
"Shut the shutters then," said his mother.
" Put fresh wood on the fire, and light the lamps;
we can make a climate of our own."
The wesin' wind blaws and sdhrll,
An' Its blth mirk an' nny 0,"

sang Ruth, as she sprang up to light the lamps,
while Philip bolted the shutters.
Get out of my way, George," said Clara. "I
want to set father's arm-chair and slippers ready,
against he comes in."
George rolled off the rug, where he had been


lying at full length, with his dog in his arms.
Clara pushed up her father's chair, and laid his
slippers before it.
"Father won't be at home for an hour yet,"
said Jane, looking at the clock, "and we shan't
have tea till he comes. Mother, can't you tell us of
some new play, to play at while we are waiting?"
Did you ever play the Travellers?" asked
Mrs. Howell.
"No ma'am," said Jane, how is it played ?"
"It is easily played," said her mother, "but it
requires some knowledge of geography, and some
quickness of recollection."
Then I can't play it, I'm sure," said Clara;
"for I know such a little of geography."
You know more than you are aware of, per-
haps, said Miss Archer. "Any how, you don't
know what you can do, till you try. How is it
played, Mrs. Howell."
Mrs. Howell answered: "The company are
supposed to be a company of travellers. Each
tells where he has been, and mentions some re-
markable natural or artificial curiosity, to be found
in that country. If he places his objects wrongly,
he pays a forfeit."


"A capital game, I should think," said Ruth.
"Come, let us sit down and begin it. Mrs.
Howell, where do you come from?"
Mrs. Howell. I come from Egypt; there I saw
the Pyramids.
Ruth. I come from Brazil. There I visited the
diamond mines.
Philip. I have walked on the wall of China, and
seen its Imperial Canal, the greatest works of
their kind in the world.
Jane. I have been to England. I saw West-
minster Abbey, where heroes and poets are buried.
Clara. I come from Philadelphia. I have seen
the place where William Penn signed his treaty
with the Indians.
George. I come from the state of New York
and I saw the falls of Niagara.
Mrs. Howell. I come from Naples, in Italy.
Near the city is a grotto called the Grto del cane,
or Grotto of dogs. A vapour rises from a chasm
in the bottom of this grotto, and if a dog be held
with his head in this vapour, he soon becomes to
all appearance dead. But being taken into fresh
air, and plunged into cold water, he revives.
George. Did you see it done, mother ?

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