• TABLE OF CONTENTS
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 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Main
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: My favorite story book for the young
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001910/00001
 Material Information
Title: My favorite story book for the young
Physical Description: iv, 1, 6-128 p., 9 leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Leathley, Mary Elizabeth Southwell Dudley, 1818-1899 ( Author, Primary )
Strong, Thomas W ( Publisher )
Dill, Vincent L
Publisher: T.W. Strong
Place of Publication: New York
Manufacturer: Stereotyped by Vincent L. Dill
Publication Date: 1851
 Subjects
Subject: Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian education of children   ( lcsh )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1851   ( local )
Bldn -- 1851
Genre: Hand-colored illustrations   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by the author of "Chickseed without chickweed," "Bible stories,"... etc.
General Note: Illustrations are hand-colored.
General Note: Date from inscription.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001910
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002234745
oclc - 45447427
notis - ALH5181
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Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front 1
        Front 2
    Front Matter
        Front 3
        Front 4
    Title Page
        Page i
        Page ii
    Table of Contents
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Main
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7a
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
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        Page 41a
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    Back Cover
        Page 129
    Spine
        Page 130
Full Text





























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S. 1




MY FAVORITE


STORY BOOK

FOR


THE YOUNG.
38 tbe author of
" CHICKSEED WITHOUT CHICKWEED," BIBLE STORIES," "PAPA'S
STORIES," "EARLY SEEDS," MAMMA'S OWN STORY BOOK,"
ETC ETC.


Netw lork:
T. W. STRONG, 98 NASSAU STREET.































p 1









CONTENTS.


PAGE.

THE STAR IN THE EAST .. ** 6

THE LITTLE ISLAND .. ** 8

THE DAISIES ** .. ** 9

THE STARS ** 10

THE WHITE KITTEN ** ** 11

THE SUNNY HOLIDAY ** 14

THE KIND SISTER .. ** ** 15

LITTLE JESSIE AND HER NEW SHILLING ** 19

WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ? ** 29

MARY S POOR BIRD ** 33

POOR BLIND ROGERS ** ** 40

-HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY ** ** 45

THE LITTLE DOG THAT LOVED HIS MISTRESS ** 52

ANNE AND TOM ** ** *. 54


A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING, AND EVERYTHING IN ITS

PLACE **.


56





CONTENTS.


THE STRAY LAMB

WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?

THE HOUR OF PRAYER

HOW TO BE GOOD

THE POOR BIRD AND HER

THE FEAST **

THE CAMEL

GOOD NIGHT, MAMMA *

JUSTICE AT A CROSSING

THE RULER OF THE STORM

INNOCENCE

THE NEW BROTHER

THE GIFT OF FAITH

THE OLD WOMAN BY THE

THE SEA-SIDE


PAGE.
.. 57

S ** ** 68

.. ** 80

...* ** 84

NEST ** 95

** 98

.* ** 99

** ** 102

..* ** 103

** ** ** 106

*.. .. ** 111

S. "" 113

.. .. 119

WOOD ** 121

.. ** 124


BTERBOTYPID BT
VINCENT L. DILL.
128 Fulton Street. N. Y.






MY FAVORITE


HAVE you.got the," Child's Own Story
Book," little children ? If so, I am
sure you must have read it through
and through many times. For it is
full of sweet thoughts and pleasant
words, such as little children love.
Perhaps you have read it so often that
you almost know it by heart, and are




THE STAR IN THE EAST.


ready for some fresh stories. Shall
I try to tell you some ? Listen to

THE STAR IN THE EAST.
MANY, many hundred years ago there
arose one night, in the blue sky of
the East, a bright and beautiful star.
So bright and so fair it was that the
wise men of that country where it
arose felt sure it came forth from
God. And they knelt down to adore
Him. And the star did not stand
still. It moved through the sky.
And the wise men followed it. They
were wise enough to be humbled, and












-- MEN=!









ALI
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LCL




I7


THE STAR IN THE EAST.


to try to learn what it was God
would teach them. And as the star
went on they followed step by step
many weary miles, but their feet
halted not on the holy way. And
at last the star led them to Jerusa-
lem, and on to Bethlehem, and stood
still over the house where lay the
infant Saviour Jesus, with Mary his
mother. And when the wise men
,saw him they were filled with joy,
iand the long journey they had taken
seemed as nothing now it :had led
,them to so blessed an end. And
they worshipped the young child, and




THE LITTLE ISLAND.


gave him gifts -gold, and frankin-
cense, and myrrh. All that they va-
lued most they cast down at his feet.

THE LITTLE ISLAND.
THERE is a little tiny island in a
pretty river. And one green tree
grows in the midst of it. And blue
forget-me-not blooms all around its
banks. A little squirrel has his
nest in the trunk of the tree, and
all day long he hops up and down
amongst the boughs, or scampers
over the turf below. And a water-
rat has his hole in the pleasant bank.




THE DAISIES.


And he comes out to sport in the
clear water, and play in the long
grass that dips into it. The squir-
rel and the water-rat are so happy.
They are alone. But the tiny island
and its sunny sky and waters are
enough for them. The squirrel does
not fret because he has only one tree,
nor the rat because he must play
alone. Their hearts are full of joy,
and that is the way they show forth
the goodness of God.

THE DAISIES.

A rTTLE boy sat on the green turf,


9




THE STARS.


and tried to count the daisies that
grew upon it. One; two, three, four;
but he could not go on. He did
not know what -came next to four.
His little sister who was playing on
the path by his side said, I know,
Charley. I was four last year, and
*this year I am five. So it must be
five that comes next to four. And
after five, Annie, what comes then?
Ah, that I cannot tell. Now let us
make a daisy-chain.

THE STARS.
THAT same day, when Tthe little boy




THE WHITE KITTEN.


and his sister were going to bed,
they looked out of the window at
the pretty blue sky. And Charley
said, I could not count the daisies in
the grass, shall I try if I can count
the stars ? I am sure you will not
be able to do that, said Annie; for
there is only One who can count the
stars. Who can ? asked Charley.
God, said Annie. Mamma told me
that. He can count them, and He
calls them all by their names.

THE WHITE KITTEN.
JOHNNY has a box of bricks. Me




THE WHITE KITTEN.


sits on the carpet just where the
sunshine falls, and builds a house.
He is a very little boy, and he does
not yet know how to build well. So
his bricks often fall down. The
white kitten that plays about the
floor sees the pretty bricks tum-
bling on all sides. And she thinks
they are meant on purpose for her
to play with. She runs amongst
them, and pats them with her little
paws. But Johnny does not like to
have his bricks touched. He says,
No, pussy, in a loud voice. And
when pussy, who does not know he




THE WHITE KITTEN.


is angry, goes on with her play, he
throws a brick at her. Poor pussy.
She knows now that Johnny is cross,
and she goes away sadly, with a pain
in her little head, where the hard
brick struck it. But when Johnny
sees her sitting so still by the fire,
he is very. sorry. And he runs to
her, and says, Poor little pussy,
come and play with me again; and
I will build you a house. I am so
sorry I hurt you. Then pussy
jumps up to play again, and Johnny
is far more happy than when he
drove her away.


13





THE SUNNY HOLIDAY.


COME, Bessie, let us dance and sing.
We have a whole holiday. And
the sun shines, and the waters glow
so sparklingly. And in the woods
hard by I can hear the linnet and
the thrush. And all the flowers
have opened their gayest blossoms.
The blue-bell, and the cowslip, and
the pretty wind-flowers whose other
name always make papa laugh so
when you try to say. it. He says
you call them wooden enemies." *
You are so good-natured you are
Wood anemones.




THE KIND SISTEI.1


never vexed with us for laughing
at you. Come then, little Bessie,
let us dance and sing. Richard has
made a pipe out of a thick rush,
and he is going to play upon it for
us. He says it is just like the pipes
the shepherds in olden times used
to play to their flocks. And we
will be his lambs, and skip about
upon the green turf. 0 how de-
lightful is a whole holiday on such
a lovely day!
THE KIND SISTER.
Now, Jane, I have quite dressed
my doll. Does she not look nice ?


15




16 THE KIND SISTER.
She has a white muslin frock, and
a green silk mantle, and a little
straw bonnet trimmed with pink.
If only she had a veil, I should be
quite happy.
Then I am sure you shall be
quite happy, my dear Jessie. I
have got a pretty piece of lace in
my work-drawer that will be just
the thing, and you shall have it.
O, Jane, how kind you are; but
did not you want that to cover
your toilet-cushion with ? Yes; I
know you did. I cannot take it
from you.




THE KIND SISTER.


My dear Jessie, I can easily knit
a cover for my cushion; that will
be good practice for me, and it will
last longer besides. And do not
think you rob me, for I am so
very glad to have it in my power
to make you happy by such a tri-
fling gift.
You are very kind, dear Jane,
and I thank you very much. 0,
that is just the very thing; only
I cannot help fearing it is too good.
How lovely my doll will look now,
when I have put this on her. Stay,
I must hem it and run in a string.




THE KIND SISTER.


There; now it is done. Does she
not look nice ?
She does indeed, dear Jessie; but I
think she still wants something more.
Do you; what can that be ?
Why, some shoes. And I saw a
little pair in Mr. Brown's window,
yesterday, for six cents, that would,
I think, just fit her. You have
got three cents left out of your new
shilling; and I will give you this
three cent piece. And we will go
after dinner and buy the shoes.
Then Miss Doll will be quite com-
plete.





S


rl


4.




LITTLE JESSIE AND HER NEW SHILLING. 19

-My dear Jane, I do not know how
to thank you enough. I must give
you twelve kisses.

LITTLE JESSIE AND HER NEW
SHILLING.

LITTLE Jessie was eight years old.
She could read and spell very
nicely, and she loved a pretty book
dearly. And she could work far
more neatly than many an older.
child, because she took pains, and
was more careful to work well than
quickly. One day she had finished
a new pillow-case. She had made




LITTLE JESSIE AND


it all herself. She had even sewn
on the strings and marked it. And
her mamma was pleased. So much
pleased with her dear little girl that
she said, You have taken so much
pains to do this work well, dear Jes-
sie, that I should like to give you
something as a reward. Here is a
bright new shilling for you. And
after dinner you shall go down to
the shop in the village, and buy
what you like with it. Jessie kissed
her dear mamma, and her eyes
shone with joy. But it was more
because she had pleased her mother


20




HER NEW SHILLING.


than for the sake of the shilling,
and she said, Dear mamma, do not
give me -the money. I do not want
to be paid for my work. You do
not know how happy I am to do
anything for you. I know that, my
love, said her mamma, and I do not
give you this as payment for your
work, for I know that was an act of
love; but I like to show you how
much I am pleased with you. So
take the shilling, my dear child, and
buy something to keep for my sake.
Then Jessie took the pretty new
shilling, and her eyes filled with


21




LITTLE JESSIE AND


tears, she was so happy. When she
read a chapter in the Bible that
morning, as she always did every
day after her lessons were over, she
came to that text, "Do unto others
as you would they should do unto
you." And her mamma talked to
her about it for a little while. Then
Jessie went to play in the garden,
and after dinner she put on her
bonnet and jacket to go down to the
village shop. She was always trusted
to go there by herself, for it was not
far, and on the same side of the way
as her mamma's house, so that she




HER NEW SHILLING.


had not to cross the road. She had
quite made up her mind what she
would buy with her shilling. For
in the window of the village shop
had long stood open a very charm-
ing story book full of pictures and
pretty tales. And one shilling"
was written just above it. So on this
book Jessie set her heart, and bound-
ing merrily down the stairs, and only
stopping to give one kiss to her dear
mamma, she was soon in the village
street, on her way to spend the
money. She had not gone far, when
she met little Sally James, crying


23




LITTLE JESSIE AND


very bitterly. Sally was about Jes-
sie's age, and the child of very poor
and very sickly parents, who had
often not food enough to give their
hungry little girl. Her face looked
sad indeed by Jessie's happy one,
nor was there any need to ask the
reason of her tears. A brown loaf
was in her little apron, which she
had just been to fetch from the shop
to which Jessie was going. And a
jug of milk had been in her hand.
But, alas, poor little girl, her shoes
were old, and wanted mending sadly.
One of them had caught in a rough


24




HER NEW SHILLING.


flint stone, and the jerk had thrown
her down. The milk was spilt and
the jug broken to pieces. The
milk was all they had for supper
with the brown loaf, as she sobbing-
ly told Jessie; and the jug, it was
the only one in the house. Jessie
had often been with her mamma to
visit the poor in their own homes.
And she had learned to feel for their
sorrows and sufferings. So she saw
at once how real a trial little Sally's
was, and that the loss of the milk
and the jug was a very different
thing to Sally to what it would have


25




LITTLE JESSIE AND


been in her own case. For if she
had met with an accident' of the
same sort, more milk could have
been bought, and there were plenty
of jugs to make up the loss of a
broken one. But Jessie's kind little
heart saw at once the poor family
going to bed without anything to
soften the coarse bread which was
their only food, and the sad face of
the anxious mother when she found
their only jug was broken. And
the blessed text in her morning's
reading came into Jessie's mind,
"Do unto others as you would they




HER NEW SHILLING.


should do unto you." And with a
bright and happy smile she drew
the shining shilling from her little
purse, and said, Do not cry, Sally;
see, you shall have this pretty new
shilling, and we will go back to the
shop and buy a new jug, and you
shall get some more milk. Oh, miss I
was all that little Sally could reply.
The joy seemed too much after her
great sorrow. But the tears were
soon dried up, and the two little
girls went together to the shop, and
for six cents they bought a strong
useful jug. Two cents more filled


27




28 LITTLE JESSIE AND HER NEW SHILLING.
it with milk, and there was still
four cents left, which Jessie thought
would be quite enough to pay for
mending little Sally's ragged shoes.
I do not know which little girl was
the happiest as they left the shop,
but I think Jessie, for we know it is
more blessed to give than to receive.
And if for a moment, as she passed
the window on her way home, the
sight of the pretty book cast a sha-
dow on her brow, her heart was
filled with a deep peace as she rested
her face on her mamma's shoulder,
and threw her arms round her neck,




WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ?


on her return, to tell her of the
happy way in which she had spent
her new shilling.

WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ?
JESUs loves little children, and when
He was on earth, He looked upon
them with an eye of tender affection.
Amongst the women of those days
who followed Him to learn His
blessed doctrines, were many mothers
who longed for their little ones to
share the blessing of His sacred
hand. And so they brought their
children before Him that He might


29




30 WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ?
lay His hands upon them. But His
disciples, who knew not fully then
the loving heart of their Divine
Master, were afraid He would be
troubled by so many little children,
and they would have driven them
away. But we are told, that "when
Jesus knew it He was much dis-
pleased, and said, Suffer little chil-
dren to come unto Me, and forbid
them not; for of such is the kingdom
of Heaven." And He took them up
in His arms, laid His hands upon
them, and blessed them. 0 blessed
word-" Of such is the kingdom of




WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ?


Heaven." Dear little children, re-
member them well, and prize them
as you ought to do. Not by think-
ing, that because you are little chil-
dren you must therefore be quite
fit for Heaven, and already perfect.
But by striving with your whole
hearts to put away all that would
unfit you for that holy place; by
resisting evil, and keeping your-
selves as much as may be from
thoughts, and words, and deeds of
sin. Think of the happy little chil-
dren that used to gather round the
Saviour's knees; and try to be like


31




32 WHO LOVES LITTLE CHILDREN ?
them. Do you think that in His
presence, or with His sacred hand
upon their heads, they would have
dared to commit sin? You are
still as much around Him as they
were. Though you see Him not,
He sees and watches you. Yes, and
loves and blesses you as tenderly as
He did the little Jewish boys and
girls of old. And you too, if you
will stay beside Him with your
hearts, may go to dwell with Him in
His kingdom in Heaven.




383


MARY'S POOR BIRD.
MaRY's bird is dead. 0 dear, 0 dear
how can it have happened:l Ioor
little Dicky;- there he lies quite cold
and, stiff. How sorry Mary will be
when she comes home; I: am afraid
she will think I have not taken. care
ofi him whilst, she was away; and
yet indeed I have. I have been so
careful in feeding him, with fresh
seed and water, every morning, be-
fore I began my own breakfast.
And I know I never have let Puss
into the room for a moment,




MARY'S POOR BIRD.


My dear Fred, do not make your-
self so sad. I am quite sure Mary
will not think of such a thing as your
having been cruel enough to forget
all proper care of her little pet. You
can have done nothing to cause its
death, I am quite sure. And so will
she be.
Then, mamma, what can have made
it die ?
The natural course of things, my
dear. The law by which every liv-
ing creature must at last cease to
exist. It has died of old age, my
dear child. I only wonder it has


34




MARY 'S, POOR- BIRD.


lived so long, and I know Mary has:
often said, lately, she was afraid it
would soon die.
Oh mamma, I am so sorry; what a
pity the things we are so fond of
must go away.
It is God's will, my dear child.
And in this case the poor bird gains
quite as much as we lose; for, since
he has been so old, I am sure he has
suffered a good deal, and could often
scarcely sit on his perch.
That alters the case, mamma, cer-
tainly; but still for all that I wish
everything would not die away so.





MARY'S POOR BIRD.


There is old' Jessy the pony gone,
and my poor old Dash, and now this
bird; and you know, mamma, we are
always in mourning for some friend
or other. There seems to be nothing
but dying here.
My darling boy, this is indeed a
world of death. Ever since the fall
of man it has been so. Sin entered
into the world, and death by sin. As
for the loss of pet animals, that is a
trial you must often have to bear,
my dear, and you must not fret about
it more than it is worth. You can
easily supply their place, and for




MARY'S POOR BIRD.


them it is often the best thing that
can happen. But for us, and those
we love, how even joyful has the
thought of death become since our
blessed Saviour, passing through its
gates, has opened those of Heaven
to all believers. If death is all
around us here, my dear child, life
is close at hand. A better and more
glorious life than we can find here
with this shadow of the grave upon
us. ,How !many things show forth
this truth, as if to comfort us under
the curse of death, whiCh has come
upon :us through 'the sin of our 'first


37




38 MARY'S .POOR BIRD.
parents. Look at the unsightly
bulb which you bury in the ground.
A few weeks of darkness, and it
bursts forth with green leaves and
brilliant blossoms, more beautiful
than anything we could have dream-
ed of from its former state. May
not this bring to our minds the
Words of our Saviour, though not ex-
actly so applied by Him-" If God so
clothe the grass of the field, which to-
day is and to-morrow is cast into the
oven, shall He not much more clothe
you, 0 ye of little faith? Life seems
everywhere to spring from death as




.MARY ~ POOR BIRD.


if to cheer us on. The frozen riven
the bare trees, the silent woods. But,
when the summer returns, the stream
flows on again, the leaves break forth
like a green shade over the branches,
and the voice of song is heard like, a
glad thanksgiving for all. But when
these thoughts fail to comfort you,
my precious child, as in some hour
of loneliness they may, when a friend
,is taken from you, or you are dread-
ing the loss of one dearer to you
than life, then remember that this
world is not our .home, that we are
here but strangers and pilgrims,




POOR BLMID :ROLMIS.


passing onwards to a better country;
"that is, a heavenly;" and 'that it
can only be entered by the gates df
death. The loss of others is often
meant, by God, to teach us 'this
more powerfully. May those gates,
when opened for us, my darling, lt
in the light of an eternal day.

POOR BLIND ROGERS.
'POOR old Rogers is quite blind. He
cannot see the flowers, nor the 'trees,
nor the blessed light of the 'sun.
Once he had eyes as 'bright as yours,
and ran about where 'he liked; 'bit












U


--- ~-~WWI

ago 9 9-2m=-




FPW1 tl&LND 1flOGM. 'W


now his eyes are :fast closed,; and, if
he moves from his'chair, )he is forced
to grope with his hands in order to
find his way. And, what makes this
ease still more sad, he is very poor.
'For now he cannot see, he can work
no longer for his bread; and ihe
would be quite starved if he did not
beg day 'by day. iHe has a little
dog that leads him by a string, and
he is very kind to it, and always
takes care to let it share his food.
*Poor old Rogers, every one is glad to
be able to help him, for all must feel
thow sad it is to be 'blind. See

tll




POOR BLIND ROGERS.


kindly Kitty is helping him over ithe
wooden bridge across the river. He
is going to the great house on the
other side. For the people there are
very good to him; and every week he
has a hot dinner in the kitchen. And
Bob, his dog, has plenty of scraps.
I think Bob knows where he is
going, and seems rather in a hurry
to get there. Shall I tell you what
a kind thing I once saw little Tommy
do for poor blind Rogers ? Tommy
is a very little boy, only five years
:old. But Tommy has a good mother,
who tries to teach him ito be kind to




POOR BLIND ROGERS.


all and who has often tdld himi that
above everything he must be so to
those who are in any trouble. Tom-
my saw poor Rogers coming down
the street the other day, and Bob
had twisted his string two or three
times round a post and could not
get on. Rogers could not think
what was the matter, but Tommy
saw at once what had happened, and
he ran to help. But the string was
old, and as they were trying to get
it in order again it broke. Rogers
tied it together; but, as he was pull-
ing the knot tight, it broke again.




POOR BLIND ROGERS.


lThen he said it would be of no use
now for it was quite worn out. And
he looked sad. Now Tommy had
a beautiful new cord, that he kept
for playing at horses with Dicky,;
but, when he saw -ior old Rogers's
trouble, he thought how happy he
should be to give him such a grand
new string for Bob. And, running
into the house, he fetched his pretty
cord, and tied it gently round Bob's
neck. And old Rogers laid his hand
on his head, and said, God bless
you, my child. Was not Tommy a
kind little boy?


'44




45


HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.
How merry you seem, Ralph, over
your work. Do not you get very
tired of sitting here day after day
mending old shoes and boots? Every
morning when I go by to school; you
are hard at work, and at night as
Is go home and look in at your
window, there you are stiching or
knocking away as busy as a bee
Don't you long to go out in the
fields and lanes? Oh, if I were a
man like you, I would not stay in-
doors this bright summer through.





HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.


But I would rise with the lark, and
be off amongst the cowslips and the
blue-bells, or lose myself in the
shady woods where the birds are
singing so sweetly, and never go to
school, or work, or do anything but
amuse myself from morning till
night.
And then, Master Tom, you would
not be half so happy as I am. For
you would not be doing your duty.
Do you think you were sent into
this world for nothing but to amuse
yourself? And would it be right to
think only of your own pleasure ?




HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY -


But, even if it were, I do not believe
you would find it in idleness. No
one can be really happy who is doing
wrong. And to waste time cannot
be right. How do you feel, when
you are coming home from school at
night, when you have been a good
boy all day ?
Well, very happy, Ralph.
Yes, happier than you do at the
end of a whole holiday; do you not?
Yes, I think I do; for then I am
tired, and sorry it is over.
Ah, Master Tom, depend upon it
people are never so happy as when


47




HOW T.O ENJOY: A' HOLIDAY.


they/ are doing their, duty,. event ifi
that duty is hard work, as it must
often be in this world: There is
always a sort of pleasure mixed, up
with. it that is never found! in, idle-
ness or. wrong-doing. When I sit
here in my little room the sun looks
in upon me with such a bright ray,
it is almost as if he smiled at me.
And the linnet in the cage sings me
a happy song, and Peter, the little
raven, sits and watches how I get on.
And the flowers in the window give a
pleasant scent. So that I have the
sunshine, and birds and flowers, with-




HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.


out going from my work. And, if I
make haste and can get done in
time, I often can patch up an old
pair of shoes for a poor neighbour
without charge. And that you may
be sure is a good plan for ending my
day happily. Then on Sundays,
those blessed days of rest, I can
walk in the fields and enjoy all their
beauty with a light heart
Well, Ralph, I dare say you are
right; and so I will try to do as you
do, and get through my day's work
cheerfully. For, after all, I should
not like to grow up a dunce, as I


49





HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.


certainly should if I played about all
day instead of going to school. So
I will not waste my time talking any
more, but run off at once. Only tell
me how you made Peter so tame.
Why, Master Tom, I found him
one Sunday afternoon lying in the
old churchyard, under the wall. He
was very young, and the nest by
some accident had fallen down with
him in it. He was too young to fly,
and I brought him home and fed
him with a spoon. He soon grew
tame; and now, though he is fully
fledged, he will not leave me. I




HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.


think he even loves me; for you see,
Master Tom, I have been a sort of
father to him.
I am sure he ought to love you,
Ralph, for taking such good care of
him. Now good-bye, I am really
going.
So do, Master Tom, and pray stop
in your way home, and tell me whe-
ther you have had a happy day.
'But mind you must work hard.
So I will, Ralph.


51




52

THE LITTLE DOG THAT LOVED
HIS MISTRESS.

I HAD once a little dog that I loved
very much. He was always with
me, and was quite my companion.
I used to call him my four-footed
friend. He loved me better than
any one else in the house, and would
not eat his dinner if I was not at
home to give it to him. But I did
not often leave him behind me, for
he was so good and gentle that all
my friends were glad to see him.
He did not like water, I mean swim-
ming in water, and it was always




THE LITTLE DOG THAT LOVED HIS MISTRESS. S3
needful to throw him in when he
was to have a bath; for he would
not take it of his own accord. But
once, when I was out with a party
of friends, and some of us got into a
boat upon the river, little Elfin was
left to run beside us on the bank.
But so much was lie afraid of losing
his dear mistress, that he plunged into
the water and came swimming after
us. His love for me was stronger
than his fear of the water. And,
dripping as he was, we were obliged
to take him into the boat. I could
not be angry with him, for it was so




ANNE AND TOM.


pleasant to be the object of such
faithful love. Poor little dog, he is
not here now; and sorely do I miss
him and his pretty ways. He grew
very ill one day. We went for the
dog doctor, who did all he could to
save him; but it was of no use, for
he died at the end of the third day.
He lies buried in the garden, under
a little fir-tree, and even Baby will
not set his tiny foot upon poor Bow-
wow's grave."

ANNE AND TOM.
LET us run races, Anne. One, two,



















*




ANNE AND TOM.


three, and away. Who will reach
the summer house first ?
I will.
No; I will.
We shall see. But why are you
stopping ?
Because you shall get there first,
dear Tom. There, you are in first.
You were kind to me yesterday, and
gave me the largest share of the
peach Uncle John gave you all for
yourself. And I have been wanting
ever since to do something kind for
you.






A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING, AND
EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE.
WHO can have taken my scissors?
I never can find my things. I am
sure somebody must hide them on
purpose, to give me the trouble of
looking for them.
How can you be so silly, Jane.
As if any one would be so unkind.
Or as if any one had time to look
about for your things, and hide them.
Well, I don't know how it is; I
never can find what I want without
having to hunt up and down the
house till I am tired, and then at




A PLACE FOX EVERWTHIN,, ETC.


at I find it in some out of the way
place that I should never have
thought of looking in.
Well, I think I know who it is
that hides them, Jane.
Who ?
You, yourself Now, look; there
are your scissors, just peeping out
from under the carpet, where, of
course, no one would have thought
of looking. And do not you re-
member sitting down in that cor-
ner, this morning, to cut a curl off
Rover's ear ?
01 so I did; and I suppose I


M




58 A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING, AND


must have dropped them then, when
he jumped up and ran away from
me, and I set off after him.
Most likely you did, instead of
putting them back in your work-box.
I am sure, dear Jane, if you would
try always to put away everything
in its proper place, you would find it
there when you wanted it the next
time. For, indeed, no one here is so
idle or so unkind as to try to give
you trouble. I very often put away
your stray things for you, but it
would be much better for you to do
it yourself.
if




EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE.


So it would, dear Susan, and I
will try. For I am sure you have
enough to do without being trou-
bled to keep my things in order.

THE STRAY LAMB.
THE sun was going down slowly
into the west, behind a thick cur-
tain of golden and purple clouds,
when a little lamb, that had long
looked with wandering and restless
eyes beyond the fences of his peace-
ful fold, leaped softly over the wat-
tles, and stopping with a panting
heart to listen if his mother bleated


59




THE STRAY LAMB.


to call him back, began to hurry
towards a pleasant hill that had long
tempted him to go astray. But his
mother did not call him. She knew
not that he had left her side. She
had lain quietly down to sleep, and
was dreaming of her little wandering
son, who was already far away.
On and on he went, till at last the
fold to which he looked back was
quite dim in the distance. For the
sun was now gone quite out of sight,
and the shades of evening were falling
like a veil around him. He began to
be afraid. It was so still and lonely.




THE STRAY LAWM.


He missed the pleasant bleating of h~
dear companions that was like sweet
music as they settled down to sleep.
His mother's side; 0! he would
have liked to lie down by it now, and
rest his little weary feet. And the
hill, that looked so tempting when
gilded by the light of day, lay black
and gloomy before him in the twi-
light hour.
Poor foolish little lamb, why did
you wander from your best friend
and your happy fold ? All that glit-
ters in the distance is not beautiful,
and a path that leads you from your




THE STRAY LAMB.


mother and your home cannot be
the way to happiness.
Now by the side of this hill lay a
thick grove of trees, that had often
seemed to the little lamb as one of
the sweetest play-places that could
be found on earth. He had watched
the bright birds sporting over its
waving green, and had even seen
the wild stag couching at its en-
trance. And he had thought how
much happier he should be gambol-
ling about amongst the shady trees
than always feeding on the smooth
surface of his well-known fold. He


62




THE STRAY LAMB.


forgot that the sun does not always
shine; that birds are not for ever
on the wing; nor stags the only wild
creatures in the shady woods.
It was now night, and he had
never thought of that, nor where he
should rest when absent from his
mother's pillow. And he stopped
and listened to try and catch some
familiar murmur from his home to
break the lonely silence round him.
But either the fold was too distant,
or the sheep were already fast asleep.
And as .the glow-worms came out
upon the dewy grass, they lighted




'PIE STRAY ALAMWS.


up tears in the eyes of the repentant
little lamb.
He trembled, and was afraid to
move; for he knew not which way to
go, nor where he could find a bed to
screen him from the chilly evening
air. And there came a sound to his
ears that he had never heard before,
and yet it thrilled him to the very
heart with terror, it was so full of
awful meaning. It was the howling
of a wolf. And he thought it came
nearer as he listened. Then he fell
upon the ground in an agony, and
had no longer power to run away.




THE STRAY LAMB.


But the good shepherd who took
care of the sheep in that happy fold
was coming with his faithful dog to
find the little truant. He had been
to count his sheep and lambs, and
one was missing. A tuft of white
wool upon the top of the fence had
shown him where the restless little
lamb had leaped over, and his dog
had tracked its wandering feet to the
very border of the wood.
Poor little lamb, as it lay and
panted on the ground, and heard the
rustling feet of the good dog come
nearer and nearer, it gave itself up




THE STRAY LAMf.


for lost; for it thought the wolf must
be close at hand. But the dog had
found it first, and it soon lay nestling
in the shepherd's bosom, almost too
happy that it was safe once more.
The wolf's voice was heard further
and further in the distance as the lit-
tle lamb was carried back to its quiet
fold; and, oh, how blessed a refuge
did its fences now seem to enclose.
No more a prison, as it had once
seemed, but a very nest of peace.
His mother looked up in wonder,
as he was laid down beside her by
the good shepherd; but she never


66




THE STRAY LAME,


knew how nearly she had lost him
for ever. Scarcely would he ever quit
her from that hour, and if his eyes by
chance turned towards the hill and
wood that had been so all but fatal to
him, with what a thrill of ecstacy
would he think of his present .afety,
and how far more beautiful was the
happy fold than all that lay beyond it.
Dear little children, you who are
still in the house of your father and
your mother, think of it as the peace-
ful fold, where like little lambs you
may dwell in safety.
Do not break the rules that are




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?


set around like fences to enclose
you more securely. Nor fancy that
forbidden ways must lead to new
pleasures. It has never yet been so,
and never will it be. Only in the
fold is there such safety and such
peace; for beyond it there are dan-
gers and troubles of which you lit-
tle dream, and there is not always a
kind hand near to bring home little
wandering lambs in safety.

WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY ?
JOHN did not like to go to school.
He loved play better than learning,


68




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?


as many a little boy has done before
him. He used to think there would
be plenty of time for learning how to
read when he was older.
In vain his father and mother
said to him, John, the older you
grow the harder you will find it
to learn. Half-an-hour spent over
your book every day now will save
you weeks and weeks of hard work
by-and-by.
John heard what was said, but he
could not believe it, and he used to
run off to play, thinking that it was
very cruel indeed to want to make




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?


little boys and girls learn what they
did not care to know.
One day, there came a new boy
to the school. He was much older
than John, but when little he had
been very ill and not able to learn
lessons. So he was very backward,
and could only just tell his letters.
But he set to work with such a good
will, that it was quite a pleasure to
teach him. And when the boys and
girls tried to make him trifle or
play in school hours, he used to say
No, I have to make up for lost time.
I cannot play now. And so he be-


70




WH'P Of 4 BUTTERFLY ? 71
gan to get on very fast. But still
it was much more difficult to him to
learn than it was to the younger
children. And when John saw how
much pains Robert was forced to take
in order to make up, as he said, for
lost time, he half resolved to be idle
no longer.
One day, when school was almost
over, he sat with his book in his
hand and his eyes wandering out of
the window, when a very pretty but-
terfly came in, For the window was
open, because the day was very warm,
nad it was the height of summer.




72 WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?
The butterfly fluttered its pretty
wings about the room, and at last
settled on a bunch of flowers that
stood on the teacher's desk. And
whilst it was there a bee came also
humming in. But instead of flying
about the room, as the butterfly had
done, the bee went straight to the
glass of flowers at once. And go-
ing quickly from one blossom to an-
other, it gathered all the sweetness
it could find, and then, as if in a
great hurry, away it went out of the
window again into the garden, where
the children could still see it busy




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY ?


amidst the jessamines that clustered
round the porch.
Seeing this, the teacher said, Shut
up your books, my dear children; I
want to speak to you.
So they all closed their books, and
sat listening; for their teacher was
very kind, and they loved her very
much. And she said, Did you see
the butterfly and the bee that came
in here just now ?
And the children said, Yes.
And where did they go to when
they came in ?
They went to the glass of flowers.


73




WHLO'B BE A BUTTEBRLV ?


Yes; they both went to the glass
of flowers, and one is there still, but
the other is gone. Where is it
gone?
It is gone out to gather honey
in the garden, said a little girl,
Yes, my dear Anne; and now I
want to ask you whether you do not
think this butterfly and bee, that
have just paid our school-room a
visit, are not very much like the
children that come here every day.
The children laughed, and did
not seem quite to understand what
their teacher meant. But she went


74




WHO'B BE A BUTTERFLY


on. Some of you are like butter-
flies, you come in and flutter about;
you have books to be sure in your
hands, you go to them as the butter-
fly went to the flowers; but you idle
over them, and get no good from
them any more than the butterfly
from the flowers. It is so all day,
and every day; there is nothing to
show for your labour, if labour it
may be called. But the bee comes
in, and instead of idling about, he
fixes at once upon the flowers that
can yield him sweets. He gathers
these sweets hastily, as if he knew




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY?


that even the longest summer's day
will soon come to an end, and then
he goes off to more blossoms, and
gets more sweets, till at last he has
as much as he can carry, and then
he takes it to the hive. Then he
makes it into wax and honey, and
stores it away in the hive for his
own use and that of others on a fu-
ture day. He does not provide only
for himself, but for others. See what
comes of industry, real industry; it
does good to others as well as to our-
selves.
Here the teacher stopped, and on


76




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY ?


looking round at the children she
met John's eye. He was looking
very red, and when he saw she had
her eye upon him, he faltered out
-I will try.
The teacher knew what he meant
at once, and she said, That is a
good boy, John; do not be an idle
butterfly any more, but a good busy
bee. You don't know how much
happier you will make your father
and mother, and how much happier
you will feel yourself.
And I'll help him, said good-
natured Robert.




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY


We will all help him, said the
teacher, for idle habits are very
hard to get over, and he will want
help; but, now we know he wants to
learn, he shall have all the help we
can give him. We will try, and all
be as much like the bees as we can.
They not only work hard, but work
together: they help one another.
So, the next day, the teacher took
John on a form close beside her
desk, that he might be under her
own eye, and that the other children
might not disturb him; and though he
was restless at first, yet by her kind


78




WHO'D BE A BUTTERFLY ?


watchfulness, and Robert's help out
of school, and above all by his own
wise resolve to leave off his idle ha-
bits and be a butterfly no longer, he
got on very well indeed. And at last
he was so firm in his industrious
ways, and so completely cured of all
his old faults, that he was sent back
to the other forms, in order that he
might be an example to the rest of
the children, and he was almost al-
ways known amongst them by the
name of the Bee.




80


THE HOUR OF PRAYER.

EMMA and Harry are going to bed.
They kneel down at their mother's
knee, and say that holy prayer
which Jesus made, and taught His
followers to use:-" Our Father who
art in Heaven."
Their father and mother listen,
and lift up their hearts to God that
He too may hear their darlings'
voices.
And who will doubt that He lis-
tens also. He who when on earth
so loved the little children that He


































V. 2' .: :.\, J*;\s
c ^^
k/ '


.~,~p~b
~
hi' .e`iI




THE HOUR OF PRAYER.


called them round Him, took them
up in His arms and blessed them,
will He forget them now He is in
Heaven ? 0 surely not. The little
ones now are as dear to Him as
they were of old. He looks down
upon them as they kneel; and let
each dear child, as it folds its hands
and closes its eyes that the things
around may not disturb its thoughts,
believe with a glad heart that the
blessed Saviour waits to hear its
prayer. That from the peaceful
blue sky He sends forth, as if on the
wings of an angel, these blessed


81




THE HOUR OF PRAYER.


words, Suffer little children to come
unto me."
Come then, dear little children, to
your best, your heavenly, Friend.
Do not fear to pour forth all your
hearts before Him. Tell Him of
your troubles and your sorrows, if
you have any. But, above all, tell
Him of your sins, your evil tem-
pers, your naughty thoughts, your
unkind words. That which you
find it so hard to put away, ask
Him to give you strength to conquer.
Hide nothing from Him; for remem-
ber He can see your hearts, and He


82




THE HOUR OF PRAYER.


is so gentle, so tender, so loving,
that however sadly you may have
offended Him, you need not fear that
He will not forgive you. He shed
His blood for you; and He will send
forth His Holy Spirit to all that ask
Him. That blessed Spirit who, com-
ing like a dove, brings health and
peace and joy into the heaviest heart.
Let these thoughts make you love
to come before Him in your prayers,
and then He will so teach you how
to pass through the dangers of this
evil world that you may go at length
to dwell with him in Heaven.




84


HOW TO BE GOOD.

PAPA, said Harry, I mean to be a
very good boy all day, to-day. I
don't mean to do anything naughty
at all.
I am very glad to hear it, my boy,
said papa, as he went out at the
hall door, and left Harry standing
on the stone steps.
It was a holiday, and Harry felt
so full of spirits, he thought he
could do anything. First he raced
round the garden till he was quite
out of breath, and then he went to




HOW TO BE GOOD.


feed his rabbits, and look at Rover
in his kennel.
While he was out in the yard, his
little sister came running to him.
O, Harry, mamma says you have
left all your bricks upon the carpet
in the breakfast-room, and you must
come and clear them away at once.
I can't, Jenny: I want to feed the
rabbits; they have nothing to eat.
Tell mamma I will come presently.
But mamma said you were to
come this very moment, because
Ann wants to clean the room.
I must feed the rabbits now I




HOW TO BE GOOD.


am here, said Harry. It won't take
me long. I will come the very mo-
ment I have done.
So Jenny went back to the house,
and Harry began to feed his rabbits.
And he found they had been gnaw-
ing the hutch-doors, so that one of
the leather hinges had given way.
And he was afraid they would get
out if he did not mend it. So he
fetched his tool-box and set to work.
But it was a long job, and more
than an hour passed away before he
got to the breakfast-room. There
all was in disorder. Chairs piled


86




HOW TO BE GOOD.


upon one another. The window-
curtains all looped up out of the
way, and Ann sweeping in such
clouds of dust that Harry would
gladly have made his escape if he
had not felt rather anxious about
the fate of his bricks.
Where are my bricks, Ann ? They
were all on the carpet.
I do not know, Master Harry. I
have not seen them.
Not seen them, Ann I You must
have seen them; for I am sure they
were there.
Well, I can't tell, said Ann.


87




HOW TO BE GOOD.


And now you really must get out
of my way, for I am too busy to
stand looking for bricks.
But I want my bricks, said Harry.
And you must tell me this moment
where you have put them. I will
have them.
Ann's only reply- was to take hold
of Harry's hand and lead him out of
the room; when she shut the door,
and again went on with her work.
Harry was very angry, and began
making such a noise at the closed
door that his mamma came down
stairs to see what was the matter.




HOW TO BE GOOD.


It is that tiresome Ann, mamma.
You know she is always so cross,
and now she will not tell me where
she has put my bricks, and has
turned me out of the room. But I
will go in again.
Harry, Harry, said his mamma;
how can you be so naughty. Did
you not come and clear away your
bricks, as I told you an hour ago ?
I came as soon as I had fed the
rabbits, mamma.
But I told you to come at once.
You were not obedient, Harry; and
now you must go to your own room


89




HOW TO BE GOOD.


for a quarter of an hour. You know
I never allow you to disobey me.
So Harry went up stairs, crying
and scolding. But at the end of a
quarter of an hour he came out,
looking brighter, and running to his
mamma,, he asked her to forgive him.
Little Jenny, who was in the room,
said, Harry, do come and help me
to make this card-house. I cannot
make the cards stand up at all.
No, Jenny, I cannot, said Har-
ry. I have been shut up, now I
don't know how long; and all the
morning will be gone before I have


90




HOW TO BE GOOD.


had any play. Besides, I must find
my bricks.
They are all safe, Harry. 1 put
them away for you, said his little
sister. I put them all in the box,
for fear they should get lost.
Harry looked a little ashamed,
and thanked his sister; but still he
did not offer to help her with the
cards, but went down again to the
garden. There he lashed the trees
and flowers with his new whip, till
he had broken off the head of a fine
lily that his papa valued very
much. And, after that he went


91




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