Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 The two doves
 The chimney sweep
 The fisher boy
 The dairy-house
 Curiosity punished
 Cruel John
 A riddle
 The clucking hen with her...
 Philip and Arthur
 The ant-houses
 Pleasure of giving up
 The leaf
 The grasshoppers
 The blackberrying
 The blind man's friend
 Another riddle
 The pen-knife
 Back Cover

Title: Two doves, and other tales
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002097/00001
 Material Information
Title: Two doves, and other tales
Series Title: Two doves, and other tales
Physical Description: Book
Language: English
Manufacturer: W. H. Collinridge
Publication Date: 1850
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002097
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 - AAA2253
ltuf - ALH9544
oclc - 45343431
alephbibnum - 002239020

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page i
        Page ii
    Front Matter
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    The two doves
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    The chimney sweep
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    The fisher boy
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The dairy-house
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Curiosity punished
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Cruel John
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    A riddle
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    The clucking hen with her chickens
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    Philip and Arthur
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    The ant-houses
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    Pleasure of giving up
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The leaf
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    The grasshoppers
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    The blackberrying
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    The blind man's friend
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Another riddle
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    The pen-knife
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    Back Cover
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
Full Text

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WILL now tell you a story
about two good little chil-
dren, Marian and Henry, who lived
some time ago in Switzerland.
Marian was seven years old, and
her little brother Henry was about
five. They were the hope and de-
light of their Mamma, who loved
them with the most tender affection.
These good children had always lived
together, and so much pleasure did
they take in each other's society,


that being together seemed their
greatest happiness. Marian could
not be happy an instant away from
her brother ;-Henry was never more
pleased than when with his sister.
Whether walking in the fields, or at
play in their little room, at meal
times or at study, they always acted
together, and this was partly the
reason why they agreed so well. You
would see Marian's large doll beside
Henry's little soldier, and Henry's
wooden horse close by the doll's cra-
dle. On the same chair would be
lying together the doll's cap and the
soldier's hat, a tiny parasol, and a
little sword. So we may be quite
sure that whatever belonged to one,


was used to amuse the other, and
that the hearts of Marian and Henry
lived in unison. One day, a friend
of their Mamma sent them a pre-
sent of a pair of Doves, beautifully
white, except that their necks were
encircled with a black ring. Henry
and Marian could not make enough
of these Doves. They were so tame
that they would perch on the chil-
dren's heads, or their shoulders, or
their arms; they would peck food
from their hands, and sometimes
even take it from their mouth.
" Ah, you pretty bird," said Marian,
"nothing has ever pleased me so
They are always together as we


are, they love one another so much,"
said Henry.
We will do as they do, Henry,
we will always be together."
Always, dearest sister," and the
children embraced each other, while
the doves fluttered upon their shoul-
ders, seeming to feel as happy as the
children were.
The birds were taken great care
of in their little house, and became
more and more beautiful, their fea-
thers were white as snow, and they
strutted up and down, seeming to be
quite proud of their habitation; they
enjoyed their liberty very often, for
Marian and Henry would open the
door of their little house, and they


would come out to be petted by the
children, and would seem thankful
for the good fortune that had placed
them in such good hands. But their
love to these birds gave rise to a
little jealousy between Henry and
Marian; they would talk about whose
turn it was to open the door, and
then about the right to feed them,
or give them fresh water. Marian
would say, laughingly, that they
loved her brother more than herself;
Henry would. contradict that, and
say, that he was sure they liked his
sister better. This little jealous feel-
ing (as is often the case with much
older people), turned out to be the
cause of much unhappiness to these


little ones. They became desirous
that each Dove should have a sepa-
rate house for itself. They made
this wish known to their good Mamma,
who, without opposing or approving
their scheme, had two cages placed
in Marian's room, and one day she
went with her brother to decide
which bird each should have; so they
agreed that the door should be set
open in the usual way, and that the
bird which perched first on Marian's
head or arm should belong to her,
and the other to Henry. This was
soon done, and Marian's dove was
shut up in one cage, and Henry's
dove in the other. The poor birds
soon became sad and still, their beau-

tiful white feathers turned to a dull
yellow, they ceased to flap their
wings, and their cooing was no more
heard. The best of wheat and beans
and the clearest water were given to
them in abundance, but all were of
no use; the doves could not endure
being separate from each other.
Each would sit on the highest perch
in its house and long for the com-
pany of the other, or sometimes they
would weary themselves with trying
to get through the bars--and when
quite tired out, each would return to
its solitary perch. Henry and Ma-
rian were very much afflicted at all
this, and told their distress to their
dear mother, who under the pretence


that they might give more attention
to the birds, proposed that each
should have one in a separate room,
and remain alone with it. The first
day seemed rather long to the chil-
dren, but those who watched over
them, and delighted in seeing them
together, were desirous of giving them
experience, and so they remained a
second day: now this day was to both
more dreary than the first, and on
the third day they found it quite
No play," said Henry; Oh, this
is very wearisome, I would give all
my playthings to be a little while
with my sister."
How can I," said Marian, "live

without my brother? without him
there is no play, I cannot be happy
away from him-without him I care
for nothing ; everything is tedious, I
cannot bear it any longer."
The truth is, they could not be
happy away from each other, so they
entreated their Mamma to allow them
to be together again, as it was impos-
sible for them to live separately.
So it is," said their mother, "with
your young doves. They came
from the same nest, they have been
nourished and fed together, they are
accustomed to live with one another,
and they feel it, as you yourselves
do, a painful thing to be parted, and
will soon die of grief."

At these words both the children
started, and ran and released the
prisoners. Out flew the doves, re-
joicing in their liberty, and caressed
each other with their beaks. They
seemed by their cooing to thank
those who had released them. They
soon became as healthy as before, and
their feathers, also, became as white
as ever. Marian and Henry resolved
never to separate them again, but to
attend them as they did at first; and
the two cages were taken away.
"My dear children," said their
good mother to them, pressing them
to her bosom; "you have now
learned that the ties of relationship
bind faster than chains; they give


the greatest joy to our hearts, they
are our greatest happiness; may you
long love one another and be happy;
forget not, that in the palace or in the
humble cottage, in the busy world,
or the more retired life, the tongue
speaks nothing more pleasing, and
the ear hears nothing more sweet,
than the endearing names-Brother
and Sister; even with the oldest
people, it gives joy to remember when
they lisped those words.


DWARD was a very little
boy, but not so silly or igno-
rant as to be afraid of the chimney-
sweeps, because they had dark skins;
he knew very well that they were
men, like other men, and that the
dirt on their clothes came from the
soot in the chimneys which they
had to clean; and that on Sundays,
when they could rest from their la-
bour, they washed themselves with
soap and water, and looked like
other people.


One winter's morning, the sun
shone brightly in the sky, but the
frost was so very severe that all the
people who had any warm cloaks
and furs put them all on; and the
ice on the ponds and rivers was very
thick. Edward stood at the window
of his mother's warm little parlour.
There was such a large fire in the
grate, that the frost on the window-
panes had melted quite away, and
Edward could look out into the
street, where the air was very dif-
ferent from that in the warm little
room, and all the people had red
noses and ears, and scampered along
quickly to keep from freezing.
Edward's kind mother had given


her little boy a basin-full of warm
milk, and a fresh white roll with it
for his breakfast. He had taken it
to a seat at the window, where he
saw, on the roof of the opposite
house, a poor little chimney-sweep
who looked no larger than himself.
The little fellow had bare feet, and
was dressed in an old thin shirt, with
such a little black cap upon his head
as chimney-sweeps always wear.
There stood the poor boy, in the
grim cold, almost without clothes,
and on the dangerous slippery roof,
where one wrong step must have
thrown him off into the street, and
perhaps have killed him.
It made little Edward shudder to


see him; he put down his bread and
milk, and stood still, looking so very
sad that his mother wondered what
could be the matter, and, asked-
What troubles you, my dear?"
"Oh! that poor chimney-sweep
boy!" said Edward, pointing across
the street, with tears in his eyes;
and he begged his mother to let him
call the boy down from the roof, and
ask him to come into their warm
The mother was very willing, and
Edward gave the little chimney-
sweep his roll and milk, made him
warm himself at the fire, and his
mother gave him a little present of
some money besides.


Children, when you see such an
unfortunate person, remember to
thank your Heavenly Father for the
good homes and kind parents He
has given you; but' while you thank
Him, try, as little Edward did, to
make them as happy as yourself.

/ ~<

RANCES and Henry went
to walk with their mother,
and once she led them by the sea-
shore to an old farm-house, which
stood very pleasantly near the water
They all stopped to eat a little
luncheon, and to take some sheeps'
milk, which was quite a novelty to
the children.
Then they walked along close to
the sea-shore, and saw the little
white waves which the soft wind
.made all over it. The children sang


a little song, and hopped, skipped,
and jumped along, before their mo-
ther, hand in hand, while she looked
with a glad heart on beautiful nature
all around her, and on the dear
children who made her' so very
happy with her kind, industrious,
and honest dispositions. Walking
and looking about, they came to the
hut of a fisherman, who had built
his house close to the water, that he
might the more easily attend to his
business, and watch the wide nets,
when they were all spread to catch
the fish.
Wait, children," said the mother,
"I am going to call here, and ask if
we can take a fish when we come

back. Your dear old grandfather
and grandmother will come to see
us this evening, and I should like
to have some good fish; fine fish are
found here in the sea."
With these words she stepped into
the hut of the fisherman, and the
children followed her. But they
soon came out again to the doorway,
for it was not only very disorderly
inside, but there was also a smell
quite disagreeable to them. So they
left the door open that the fresh air
might go in.
Good day, ma'am," said the
mother to a fat slovenly woman, who
sat smoking a pipe, can I buy good
fish here ?"


"I don't know," said the woman
sulkily, "whether my boys will go
a fishing to-day. I'll ask them
though. Eh! Joe! Jem! shall you
fish to-day?"
No," was the short answer from
the next room where the boys were.
"I am very sorry," said the-mo-
ther, I want very much to have
some fish to-day."
"You hear they are not going,"
said the woman; "I can't make 'em
go, they are too big for that."
"You must be getting rich," the
mother remarked; "formerly you
were glad to have a customer."
"Bless us! getting rich! often we
are without even a bit of dry bread,


and we can only afford to buy meat
once in a great while!"
"And yet the sea is full of fish,
and if you wished, you might easily
live in a very comfortable way."
"Oh yes! very easily, if one loved
labour," answered the woman.
The mother then took the child-
ren by the hand, and left the hut.
Presently they met a poor but cleanly
dressed little boy, who carried in a
net some very good fish, which he
had just caught, and asked the mo-
ther to buy. The bargain was soon
made; she gave him the money, and
asked him to carry the fish to her
"Thank God!" said the good

boy as he took the money, "mother
and sisters will not go to bed hungry
to-night!," and he bounded away
with a bright happy face.
Does not the little boy please you
much better than the sluttish woman
with her lazy sons ?



'C HE next time that Henry and
Frances took a walk, their
mother went with them. All three
were very merry, especially the mo-
ther, for her parents were making
her a visit, and she wished to pro-
vide something very nice for their
supper. Their coming was always
a festival.
They walked along the sea-shore
for a mile or two, and came at length
to the Dairy-House, which it was


their mother's intention to visit.
The house looked almost like a bird's
nest under the trees, and nothing
could be neater or more inviting.
The windows shone like crystal,
the front door was as green as
emerald, and the walls inside were
clean and white as the new-fallen
Above, on the newly thatched
roof, Sir Longlegs, the clapping
stork, had established himself with
his family; and on the broad meadow
close by, many cows and sheep were
feeding together on the rich high
grass; while before the door, under
the linden trees, stood a table with
benches, scoured so white that they


looked as if they had been just
"It makes me feel happy to be
here," said the mother, "where all
is so neat and orderly, we can enjoy
ourselves without fear;" and so say-
ing, she stepped into the house with
the children. A beautiful cheerful
little girl came to meet them, and
asked what they would have.
"Some new milk, if you please,"
answered the mother, "and some
bread and butter also, if you can
spare them to us."
"Most willingly," was the friendly
reply; and in a few minutes the girl
returned. She covered the table
with a snow-white cloth, placed upon


it the bowls of milk, each with a
silver spoon in it, and the bread and
butter. All was so nice, so beauti-
fully clean, it was a pleasure to look
at it.
While the children took their
milk, their mother told them that the
people who owned the Dairy-House
had once been very poor, and lived
in a miserable old cottage, which,
with a few cows, was their whole
Several of the families who lived
near by bought milk and butter of
them, and found it so very clean and
nice, that they spoke of it to others,
who afterwards bought of them also,
till at length these neat people had


so many customers, and received so
much money, that they could buy
this pleasant Dairy-House, with its
rich meadow.
But it was now time for the child-
ren to go home, and bidding the
dairy-maid "good bye," they thanked
her for their pleasant supper, and
went back by the sea-shore just at
sunset, to meet their grandfather
and grandmother.


BAD guest had found his
) way into Mr. Richards'
poultry yard, a guest who would
probably carry something away with
him. To such a visitor we common-
ly say walk out at the door," and
so would Mr. Richards have done
long ago, only sly Reynard did
honour to his title, and had esta-
blished himself so comfortably and
quietly at the hen-house, that no one
would have known he was there if,


first, a poor hen, then a pigeon, then
a chicken or two, and at last a fine
fat goose had not, one by one, dis-
appeared; for the robber had such
a sly way of slipping out of sight,
that no one ever saw him.
Mr. Richards did not like it much,
and one day he complained about it
to his neighbour.
Oh! I can help you, sir; I have
one of the very best of fox-traps,
and you shall have the use of it;
and I'll warrant you will soon have
the pleasure of making Mr. Reynard's
acquaintance; only you must warn
the children not to meddle with it,
for such a trap is a very dangerous
thing for young folks to play with."


Mr. Richards thanked him, took
the trap home, and showed it to the
children, telling them never to touch
it, lest they should be hurt. Then
he tied a dead hen upon the trap,
and when evening came, he took it
to the poultry yard, after all the
fowls had gone to roost.
Among all Mr. Richards' child-
ren, none had so much curiosity as
Maurice. He had to bear a good
deal of joking about it from his
sisters, who said that his ears stood
out in an inquisitive manner on his
head, as if they were trying to listen;
but this time he had to suffer rather
severely for his curiosity.
The trap had been set about half


an hour, and it became quite dark
out of doors, when Maurice began
to wonder whether the fox was al-
ready caught. He knew that the
poultry yard was not yet fastened, so
he slipped out of the room, and
groped his way through the garden
towards it. It was so dark that he
could scarcely find his way. He
could see or hear nothing of the fox,
and was groping his way back, when
suddenly something went Klap!
Klap!" and Maurice shrieked so
loud that everybody in the house
heard, and ran with lamps and lan-
terns to the hen-house, expecting to
find Mr. Reynard in the trap, but
they found not the robber fox, but


an inquisitive little boy's foot in a
blue stocking and boot, while Mau-
rice screamed as if all his teeth were
being pulled out.
In the dark he had stepped right
into the trap, which sprang, and his
foot was caught, and held fast be-
tween two iron hoops with sharp
teeth, which pinched so hard that
they almost took the flesh off.
His father helped the curious little
fellow out of his trouble, and sent
for a surgeon, who bound up the
wound, and said Maurice could not
feel thankful enough that the bone
was not broken. But it was six
weeks before he could run about
again, it took so long for his foot to

get well; and in that time he had
learned a pretty hard, though a very
useful lesson.
After a few days the real fox was
caught; they did not send for a sur-
geon to him, but shot the robber;
and of his fur they made a nice muff
for little Emmeline, which kept her
little hands warm all winter.


.Q _Q 0 0a 0'-It


"c LD clothes, clothes to sell,"
cried an old Jew through
the streets. He was bent with
years, his hair and beard were near-
ly as white as snow, and he carried
on his back a bag, in which were all
kinds of second-hand clothing, which
he bought from house to house, and.
sold again for a little higher price.
Upon this small trade the old man
contrived to support himself. That
he laid up no savings was evident


from his wasted form and thread-bare
clothes; and oh, how sad it must
have been for him, in his old age, to
carry that bundle through the streets
in all weathers, crying "clothes, any
old clothes to sell."
One day in winter there came a
dreadful storm of rain. In the street
was a deep gutter, that was now
running like a river.
The poor old Jew could scarcely
keep upon his feet, and was in danger
every minute, of slipping, and falling
to the ground.
Let us have some fun with this
old man, and see if we can make
him come to us through the gutter,"
said John to his companions, who,


with some other boys, was standing
at a window, looking out.
Oh, don't," said the kind-heart-
ed Edward, "he can scarcely stand
"Pooh! he is only a Jew!" said
the cruel John, and opening the
window, he called out, "Here, old
man, come here !"
The old man supposed that they
had something in the house to give
him, so he waded through the
gutter, and asked, while his voice
trembled with cold and anxiety,
"what do you want, gentlemen?"
Nothing, you Jew!" said John,
with a loud scornful laugh, "we
only wanted to see if you could come


through the gutter." And then he
shut the window.
The old man said nothing, but his
pale lips quivered with disappoint-
ment and grief.
Would you like to have John
for your brother or friend ?"

OZ40'~ 06 0 a


OULD you not rather have
a brother like Edward?
for when he saw the look that came
over the old Jew's face, it touched
his very heart, for it seemed as if he
had taken part in John's shameful
Edward rushed from the window-
seat, ran out of the room, down
stairs, opened the door, and was
soon at the side of the old Jew, who,
not caring to go through the deep


gutter again, still stood, with diffi-
culty, on the slippery footpath.
When the old man saw the boy
come out of the house where he had
been so badly treated, his limbs
trembled with fear lest some new
insult might be intended. Perhaps,"
thought he, this boy will throw me
Good Sir," said Edward, with a
kind gentle voice, for he saw how
the old man trembled, "Good Sir,
fear nothing from me, it was not I
who insulted you. The walking is
so slippery here, shall I help you
along to a better place ? And he
took the Jew's arm, and helped him


The old man was so moved by this
little act of kindness, that for a few
minutes he could not speak. Soon
the tears began to run down his
cheeks, while he said with a faltering
voice, "May God bless you, my dear
boy, may God bless you! "
Edward's tears came too, as he
guided the old man through the
streets till they reached the market,
where he could walk with more
safety. Then dropping his arm, he
said, "here the walking is better,
Sir, I wish you good morning," and
sprang away without waiting for the
old man's thanks. He returned to
the house quickly, and taking his
school-books, sat down to his studies.

"You behave yourself prettily,
Edward, towards begging Jews!"
said John, scornfully. "You are a
fine boy, truly!"
Edward said nothing, but quietly
carried his books to another room,
where he could study without being


ERDINAND was very fond of
puzzling his sisters now and
then with a riddle. One day he ran
into the room in great glee, and cried
out, Whoever can guess what I am
thinking of, shall have for a prize
this beautiful round ball, which mo-
ther has made out of bright-coloured

I m a Msrlet mown
On a birdie' had,
And there I shime
Like the mn-mt red.


With my tiny teeth,
So sharp and good,
I smooth the tall forest
And tangled wood.

"I don't understand the last part,"
said Gertrude, who had listened with
all her might, and wanted very much
to have the ball.
Oh, I know! said Ferdinand,
" you don't understand that word
smooth. I put that in because I
could not think of any other word
that would not spoil the measure of
the verse. I might have said level
or even; can't you think now what I
meant by smooth ? "
"Oh, yes! I understand that,"
said Gertrude; "when Mary irons

the clothes which have been washed,
she makes them smooth."
"And the gardener, when he
makes the garden flower-beds, makes
them smooth," said Maria.
"Or the mason, when he spreads
out the mortar with his trowel," said
Quite right you know what I
meant by smooth. Come, guess the
riddle now," said Ferdinand.
Let us hear it once more," said
they. He repeated it, and their
little wits were still puzzled, but
Gertrude's most of all. She kept
her eyes on the pretty ball in Fer-
dinand's hand; but the riddle was
too hard.


Just then Frank, their little neigh-
bour, came in, and they shared the
riddle with him. After thinking a
minute, the merry boy cried out
" cluck cluck! cluck-a-dah-cut! "
and Ferdinand laughed. The other
children only wondered the more.
" Cluck cluck cluck-a-dah-cut! "
the answer to the riddle! How
strange How could it be ?
Oh, I know," cried Gertrude;
"the crown is the comb which the
hen carries on her head, and the
other comb is the hair-comb; and
the forest and tangled wood is men's
"Very well, little sister," said Fer-
dinand; but the ball must be given


to little Frank, for it was him that
guessed the riddle first."
"And I will give it Gertrude,
for she ought not to lose such a
pretty prize," interrupted Frank;
" there dearie, it is yours."
All praised Frank's quick thoughts,
and still more his generosity in
giving up the beautiful ball to his
little friend.
Frank was very much pleased too,
and he thought to himself, "giving
is better than taking or keeping."


CQ^ U GUSTUS and Rosalie
Shad the care of the well-
filled poultry yard, and in the morn-
ing, when they got up, their first
work was to open the coops, in
which thero were hens, ducks, geese,
and turkeys, and call "cluck! cluck!
cluck!" to gather them all round
the basket, and then feed them well
out of their little hands.
It was real pleasure to see the
yard all covered with them, gobbling


and clucking, and crowing, and
busily picking up the corn that was
thrown about; and when Augustus
did not throw it fast enough, flying
up at his basket to pick it up out of
Rosalie's favourite was a great
black hen, which had the prettiest
red comb on her head that ever was
seen; and about its neck a collar of
golden feathers, that made it look
very beautiful. Everybody admired
it; and, besides, it laid a great many
eggs, distinguished for their size.
But Rosalie loved this hen dearly,
because it was so tame, that when she
called it, it would fly to her shoulder,
and pick the corn out of her hand.


But this black hen had something
new to interest her, for she had care-
fully brooded over a great many eggs,
till now she marched about the yard
with a whole army of little chickens,
and nothing prettier could be seen.
Rosalie, who loved her black pet now
better than ever, called her with
( cluck cluck cluck !" to give her
some crumbs of bread which she had
begged from her mother, but the
only hen that refused to come at her
call, was just this black hen. In-
stead of coming, she called her little
chickens far away from the place
where Rosalie stood.
Oh the ungrateful thing! said
Rosalie; it used to be so tame and


now it will not notice me. She stoop-
ed down to catch one of the chickens,
but could not succeed very well, for
the hen flew at her with a loud cry,
and not only struck her with her
wings, but pecked her with her
strong sharp beak, so that Rosalie
screamed, and ran to complain to
her mother of the ingratitude of her
"She did nothing but what I would
do if I thought any one was going
to hurt you or your brother," said
Rosalie's mother. God has given
animals the tenderest love for their
young, so that they defend them even
if they put their own lives in danger.
So you must not blame your hen, but

rather admire God's wisdom in giving
her such love; for what would child-
ren, and all young helpless creatures
do, if their parents loved them less ?"
Rosalie understood this, and was
not angry again with her black hen,
because she loved her own children
so well.


@ S H, Philip is too stupid, fa-
Sther !" cried little Arthur,
who had just been talking with
Philip. "Only think! he is twelve
years old now, and cannot read or
write. I do not believe he can
"Very likely he cannot," answer-
ed the father. "His parents are poor
people, and he has not been able to
go to school at all; for as soon as he
grew large enough to take care of

himself a little, he was sent, first to
watch the pig, then the sheep, and
at last must take care of the cows,
so as to earn something to help his
father and mother. Now he is
groom in the stable, and earns
not only his food and his clothes,
but some money besides, which
he sends very regularly to his pa-
rents in the country, I have heard.
Ignorant in many things, Philip may
very possibly be ; and I dare say he
may never become a great scholar,
but stupid he certainly is not, my
son. Those only are stupid who do
not learn anything well, but Philip
understands his business very well
indeed. I like him much."


Arthur did not dispute this, but
he still thought that Philip was
stupid, to be twelve years old with-
out knowing how to read or write,
when he, only nine, had learned long
The next day Philip brought out
the grain, and spread it smoothly on
the barn floor. Then he took the
flail, and began to thresh it, and he
did not strike himself once about
the ears with the swinging flail, for
he well knew how to handle it. Ar-
thur thought this was easy enough;
and catching up the flail, he tried to
thresh to; but the first thing he did
was to give himself a hard thump'
on the head.


Another time Arthur saw Philip
following the plough in the field.
That, he thought, was easily done;
he could do that, he knew; Philip
must let him take his place and try.
But soon the boy who rode the horse
called out "no, no, my little man,
that will not do Give it up to
Philip, he understands it better !"
and Arthur walked away ashamed.
One other time, Philip was sifting
some meal through a great sieve.
Arthur thought he must do it also:
but he took hold of the sieve so
awkwardly, that he shook the fine
meal over with the bran, and Philip
said, laughing, "my little man, you
don't understand that either."

Then Arthur found that Philip
was not so stupid as he fancied, for
he knew how to do a great many
things which Arthur knew nothing


OBERT gave his cousin
Richard, for a birth-day pre-
sent, a nightingale, in a beautiful
green cage, and told him to feed it
with meal-worms and ants' eggs.
The miller or the baker would supply
him with the meal-worms, but the
ants' eggs he would be pretty sure to
find in his father's garden. He
would only have to put a flower-pot
or a little wooden tub, in some dry
sunny place, and the ants would find

r tc


their way under the hedge and lay
their eggs there, for they are always
careful to put them where the rain
cannot come.
Richard bought some meal-worms,
but they cost almost all his pocket-
money; and he must set about find-
ing the ants' eggs, which would cost
him nothing. So he did as Robert
had told him, and, to his great de-
light, he found when he took up the
flower-pot, on the next day, that a
whole colony of ants had crept under
it; for the earth was thrown up into
little heaps, and looked fine, as if it
had been sifted. Some little ants
were trotting about quickly, as if
they were trying to find out what


had happened, to make it so sud-
denly light.
Richard took a stick, and stirred
the earth a little, and found a great
many little long white eggs lying
about. He stretched out his hand
to put the eggs into a little cup
which he had brought with him,
when to his great amazement, the
little ants caught up the eggs in their
mouths, and ran away with them.
When Richard saw the kind mo-
therly care of the ants, the tears
came into his eyes, and he said, "No,
I cannot be so cruel as to trouble all
these little creatures, just to make
one happy; and my little nightingale
would like much better to sing in

the cool green trees, than in his close
prison of a cage; I will go and let
him fly where he pleases."
He did so, and oh! how soon the
nightingale darted off to the grove
near by, where his song was heard
for many a long summer's evening
after; and how joyful too, Richard's
heart felt.


M I L Y and her brother
Alfred quarrelled with each
other sometimes, because both would
have their own way, and neither
would give up; and so they had
many unhappy days, for nobody can
be happy who does not live in
Their mother had often spoken to
them about their quarrels, and told
them that "the wisest always gave


Now it happened once that Alfred
wanted to play at ball, but Emily
wanted to dress her dear Fanny, her
pretty doll, which was almost as
large as herself. She said Fanny
had been invited to a party, and
must have on her best clothes.
But Alfred thought he could not
possibly give up playing at ball, so
he said, "Oh! Fanny need not go
out to day, she may stay at home
and sleep in her cradle."
"You think so," said Emily, "but
I thiAk Fanny is not invited out
every day, and she ought not to stay
at home. So you must help me to
dress her."
"I won't," said Alfred, fretfully.

"And I won't"-play ball, Emily
was going to say, but she remem-
bered what her mother had said, and
she put Fanny down, half-dressed
into the cradle, and said pleasantly,
"He is wisest who gives up; come,
Alfred, I will play ball with you,
because you wish me to play."
That's a dear Emily," said Alfred
happy, and half-ashamed, too. And
they played at ball, and did not
quarrel all that day.
The next morning Emily wanted
to plant flowers in her little garden,
for it had rained the night before,
and she knew it was the best time to
plant flowers; but Alfred wanted to
make his little dog, Carlo, swim in


the pond, and to have Emily look on
and see him; for when he had to see
his dog play alone, it was not half
so pleasant as when Emily stood by
to laugh at his frolics.
"No," said Emily, "you must let
Carlo swim alone to-day, for if I
don't plant these pretty flowers which
the gardener has given me, they
will all dry up and wither.
And I will help you, dear sister,"
said Alfred. Carlo can swim to-
morrow afternoon after our lessons.
You played with me yesterday, al-
though you wanted to dress Fanny
for company, for I won't be so selfish
as to wish you to give up to me
always." So he helped Emily: as if

that were the thing he most wanted
to do; and Carlo did not swim that
Now the children had learned the *
pleasure of giving up to each other,
and of course, there were no more
quarrels between them.


ANE had a habit of break-
ing off leaves and flowers,
as she went through the garden, and
tearing them to pieces, and scatter-
ing the bits all along the pathway.
Her mother spoke to her of this,
telling her it was a bad habit; But,"
said Jane, "what is the use of such
a little mean thing as a leaf? It
might as well be destroyed as not."
"Do you call a leaf mean?" asked
her mother. "Why, my little girl,


no man, if he study never so hard,
and is never so skilful, can make
anything half so beautiful or perfect
as a leaf."
Jane looked as if she did not un-
derstand; but a few days after, her
mother took her to a friend's house,
where there was an excellent little
contrivance for making things look
larger than they really are, called a
microscope. This friend told Jane
to bring a leaf, which he put under
the microscope.
How astonished Jane was, at the
wonderful things she saw. What a
beautiful net-work of veins through
which the life-blood that nourished
the leaf seemed to run! What fine

holes, through which it threw off
part of the sap; the friend called
these pores. The leaf was all co-
vered, too, with little bristles, and
still finer hairs, as if for protection
and clothing. Jane never again
called a leaf, a "mean thing."

S P a
q~' ~ a~
L C 0 0


C( pretty little creatures, and
children like dearly to watch them.
First, they are as green as the leaves,
and afterwards they grow larger and
browner. They make a chirping
sound, by moving their feet against
their sides, which is very pleasant to
hear. Children call it singing, but
that is not quite the right name, be-
cause singing is done with the mouth.
Men and birds sing, bees, flies, gnats,


and other insects hum or buzz; this
noise is made by the rapid motion of
their wings; crickets, locusts, and
grasshoppers make a shrill, trembling
noise, called chirping.
In the city where Henry lived,
poor, little, ragged boys often went
about the streets, each carrying on
the end of a long stick, little houses
made of bright-coloured paper, with
glass windows, and calling out in a
loud, clear voice, Grasshoppers!
Grasshoppers A penny a house !"
These little boys had been in the
country, where there are a great
many Grasshoppers by the sides of
the roads, and in the fields, and had
caught the little creatures among


the grass, on purpose to shut them
up in these bright paper houses and
sell them. In this way the poor
little fellows made a good many
Once, Henry's mother gave him
some money to buy just such a play-
thing as he liked best. But he could
not decide what he wanted most, and
so nothing was bought. The money
remained in his purse, because he
wanted a large, handsome whip, or
a hoop, or a little toy-musket; one
just as much as the other.
He was in a sad puzzle what to do,
with his little treasure, when one
day a poor little boy under the win-
dow cried, in a clear, sweet voice,


" Who'll buy my Grasshoppers?
Grasshoppers !"
"Mother, may I?" asked Henry,
as he looked earnestly round to his
"Do as you like, dear," was the
Henry sprang quickly out of the
room, and called to the Grasshopper
boy, "Here, here, Grasshoppers! "
The boy came, and Henry bought
four Grasshoppers in their houses.
His hands shook with delight, as he
carried his treasure to his mother's
"What will you feed your dear
little creatures with, that they may
not die ?" asked his mother, as she


looked through the little glass win-
dows, and half opened the paper
door, which was made so as to be
opened or shut by a piece of string.
"You had better give them some
scrapings of carrot, and a bit of pear,
for dinner," said she, "for that is
what they like."
Henry did this, and waited with
impatience for them to give him
some grateful little song in return for
all his trouble, and because he heard
nothing, he said, "the obstinate
green people must have gone to sleep
in their palaces."
The next day there was no chirp-
ing, and on the third day it was no
better, so that Henry began to feel


disappointed, and very sad; when,
hark! something chirped beautifully
by the window. Where? not on the
floor; not on the wall; no, out on
the tree which stood close by the
open window.
One of your prisoners has taken
his liberty. Only look here, Henry,"
said his mother.
Henry looked, and the Grasshop-
per's house was indeed empty. The
little prisoner had luckily worked
his way out, and was singing his
happiest song in the green linden
"What makes him sing there,
when the others do not sing at all?"
asked Henry.


"He sings because he has found
his freedom; and the others are si-
lent for grief at their imprisonment."
So, are they sad ?" asked Henry,
as he looked at the little prisoners
thoughtfully, for a minute.
"Certainly they are," answered
Henry's mother. "Every creature
loves its freedom, and is sad when
deprived of it."
Then Henry took the three other
Grasshoppers' houses, pulled their
little doors wide open, and said,
"There, take your freedom, poor
little things; for I can't bear to see
or to make any creature unhappy."
The mother kissed her good little
Henry. The Grasshoppers jumped

one after another across the floor
and out of the window, on to the
great linden tree, where they sang,
or chirped, so charmingly, that Henry
felt glad with all his heart.


0 you know the Blackberry,
S children ? the pretty black
fruit, shaped almost like a tiny bunch
of grapes.
Martin knew what Blackberries
were, very well; and he liked them
too. His parents were not rich, and
had not much money to spare for
fruit; so he was very happy when
he had an opportunity to go into the
fields, and gather berries. Martin
was, on the whole, a very good boy.


He was sometimes rather wild and
forgetful, and this made sad things
happen to him once in a while.
One morning, when there was to
be no school, Martin sat at the door,
eating his breakfast. He had on his
best clothes-clean blue cloth jacket
and trousers, which his parents had
bought, by carefully saving their
money, and going without a good
many pleasures themselves.
Will you go into the fields with
me, and pick Blackberries? said his
little neighbour, Maria. "Brother
Stephen and I have asked father
and mother to let us go; come with
us, will you ?"
Martin rushed into the house, and


asked his mother, who gave him
leave to go, but take off your best
clothes," said she, and put on your
old ones; for Blackberry bushes
have a great many thorns, and you
may easily tear them."
Martin, in his hurry, scarcely
heard what his mother said; but
snatched a basket from its peg, and
scampered right out of the house.
He was in such great haste, because
he was afraid Maria and Stephen
might go without him.
The three children went out of the
town, about half-a-mile, when they
came to a place where there used to
be a wood, but it had lately been cut
down, and there were a great many

stumps, over which the Blackberry
bushes had climbed. They were
loaded with the ripe, rich fruit.
"Do you see? we have brought
you to the right place," boasted little
Maria, and she began to fill her bas-
ket with the most beautiful fruit.
Oh this is splendid," cried Mar-
tin ; if I had only brought a great
basket, mother might have made
some pies with Blackberries in them,
and they are the best things !"
The children picked berries, and
were happy enough. Each one found
a better and better place, calling the
others to enjoy it with him. Mar-
tin's basket was filled to the brim


already, and he had put a good many
into his mouth besides.
As he was just going to leave off
picking, because his basket was full,
and would hold no more, he saw a
great branch, hanging full of the
best blackberries; only it was rather
high up out of his reach. He did not
stop to think, but bent one branch
over another, and tried to climb up
to that one on which the berries hung,
when he heard a noise-rish, rash!
Martin looked round, to see what
the noise was, and then he saw his
nice new trousers with two holes
torn in them by the brambles; large
enough to put his hand through.


Now his pleasure was all over, he
began to cry, Oh! if I had only
minded mother! what will she say?"
Martin suffered a good deal from
this act of carelessness and inatten-
tion to his mother's directions; and
for a long time afterwards he had to
wear patched clothes on Sundays.



N a great city, in one of the
S, principal streets, there sat,
from early morning till night, a blind
old man, and with him the only
friend that he had, a little dog; but
you would not soon have found
another friend so true and wise, as
that little dog was.
As soon as a rich nan, or a well-
dressed woman (the little dog knew
very well how to distinguish them,)
came over the bridge at the end of


the street, the dog jumped up and
pulled his master gently by the coat,
to draw his attention to the person.
Then the blind man held out his hat,
and said some words to ask for a
gift, and the person who was passing
by, often gave him some money.
But if a man or woman poorly dress-
ed, came over the bridge, the little
dog did not move, for he knew from
experience that such people did not
give anything.
If rude boys came near to the old
man, to make sport of him, or take
away his money, then the little friend
defended his master, and growled,
and barked, and bit, so that the boys
in the streets knew what to expect,


after they had tried it a few times;
and learned not to trouble again the
little Nero-for that was his name.
When dinner-time came, the blind
man would take out a little piece of
money, from his pocket, and putting
it into Nero's mouth, say to him,
"Nero, bring the dinner;" and Nero
would run off as fast as he could.
Before long, he would come back,
bringing the dinner in a little bas-
ket; and no matter how nicely it
smelt, he never touched it, but waited
till his master gave him a piece.
Often the people would stop to
admire the blind man's good little
friend, and everybody would have
been glad to have such an one himself.


When the evening came, and the
blind man must go home, then Nero,
let him put a cord round his neck,
and led him home as safely as if he
had been a man; and if a cart or a
carriage came along, he would bark,
to warn his master of his danger.
At last, the blind man died; and
Nero was so unhappy that he refused
to eat or drink anything; and in a
little while he, too, laid down and
Was he not a true friend, though
he was only a dog ?


0_- Pt
E 0 0c 0 EQ 0 0


NE Winter evening, when
it was very cold out of
doors, so that people had to
wrap themselves up in furs and
great coats, to keep from freezing,
some children sat with their mother
at a round table near the fire.
They were talking of riddles, and
begged their mother to make one for
them. She thought a minute; then
she said:-


Two little windows, without glass,
Through which there may be seen
The wide, wide sky, the hills and trees,
River and meadow green.
The largest and the smallest things,
Through these black windows peep;
SAnd the snows and stars of winter bright,
Shine through their arches deep.

The children guessed and guessed,
Frank and Maria mentioned a num-
ber of things which they thought
their mother might mean by the
little black windows, but they could
not guess right. Lydia had not yet
said anything, but still kept think-
ing. At length a pleasant smile
came upon her face, and pointing to
her eyes, she said, "These, mother,
are the windows without glass."

Quite right," said her mother.
But mother," said Frank, "Lydia
has light blue eyes, and you said the
windows were black."
And so they are," answered his
mother, "If you look in your sister's
eye, you will see a round perfectly
black spot, and it is through that
she sees."
Frank looked, and was then quite
satisfied with the riddle.



0 ASTER William had always
a strange desire to do just
the very thing he was told not
to do, and this was the reason why
he met with so many accidents.
One of the things that he most
wanted to do, was to meddle with his
father's Pen knife, which lay up-
on his writing -table, and William
thought he should never want any-
thing better to do all his life, if he


could only make pens; it seemed
to be such pretty work. But he
knew nothing about it, and his
father had often told him never
to touch his knife, for it was very
Once, when his father was away
on a journey, William had plenty of
time and opportunity to try his skill
in pen-making. There lay the Pen-
knife, as usual, on his father's writ-
ing-table, and close by, a great bunch
of quills, besides some pens which
his father had made. William seated
himself, proud as he could be, on his
father's stool; and looked so ridicu-
lous that you could not have helped
laughing at him. He put on the


great spectacles, so large that his
eyes could only look through one
glass at a time, pulled out a quill
from the bundle, and began scraping
and cutting it. But I can assure
you he did not make a very good pen,
for the silly boy did not know that a
quill must be split, to make a pen
that will write, and so, instead of a
pen, he made a tooth-pick, with a.
long sharp point.
After he had made enough of
them, he wanted very much to
try one, so he dipped it into the
ink, and tried to write with it, but
he could not make a single letter,
for his tooth-pick only spattered and


"I must cut it a little shorter,"
said he; and taking up the Pen-
knife, he began to cut; but, oh dear r
instead of black ink, he saw red
blood upon the pen; and instead of
coming out of the inkstand, it came
out of William's thumb, which he
cut nearly off. He ran crying to his
mother, after having spoiled a great
many of his father's quills, blotted
his paper, and hurt his own thumb
very badly.
His mother told him, that all this
trouble was the consequence of his
disobedience; that the pain which
he would now have to suffer, per-
haps for a long time, he had brought

upon himself, by not regarding
his father's commands; and that
she hoped this sad experience
would prove to be a valuable lesson
to him.

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