The Baldwin Library
I II I I I II
<^ ^. ~y /^
.- : -,
"./ As the fresh RQse-bud needs the silvery shower,
;, The golden sunshine, and the pearly dew,
S The Joyous day with all its changes new,- ,-.-.
A e it can bloom into tie perfect, lower;
Soirith the human rose-bud; from sweet sirs -
---, Of heaven 'will fragrant purity be caught- -
And influences benign of tender thought ;
nform the soul, like angels, unawares. -
% M.Y HownM A R
^., -. '-
4 .. -
V,-inrmn for tle Little Boy. P. 50.
Juvenile Tales.--Ma bles.
LONDON: JAMES HOGG & SON.
S -. .
~ CAMDEN PRISS, LONDON.
~. .t .
': i"' 1*l -'"- *
K .. .-
Cam.n" 's Wism; on, Do Buy ME A PONT 1 ?
THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR, DON'T PLAY *
ro Mo 39
TUB FRAGMENTS; OB, THE VALUE OF PSRAps 63
TH NESTLINGS 105
X' L.... C
1 ;- '~ a; -,S~a~~2?~2~;r;'~: ~8~1~2~nlq
SDO BUY ME A PONY.
IT is no use giving me anything to
grandpapa, by way of puttii e
'ibffrom what I have set my heart
want a pony, and a pony I must have,
wr else I shall fret, and be very unhappy
all my life-so I shall."
Such was the answer that Charles
Made to his kind grandfather, when the
old gentleman placed in his hand a very
nice book of stories, all of them true,
S and bade him read one that he thought
would teach him a lesson which Charles
8 CHARLIE WISH ; O r
greatly needed to learn that.is. ta y. a
how he ought to be content with such
things as he had.
Charles w4 to be pitied, ,for he had
lost ,bis father When he was a baby.; and
Shis mother, having 9 another child, 4pd
bei. ..eak in. health, had giyen him
mpe of .his own way than was good ftr
h ihen he could not get anything
S by asking, he used to fret, vnd to pry,
and turn away his head when his fond
mother wanted to soothe him; and I
am afraid he sometimes went into a pas-
sion, and threw himself on the ground,
S and in other ways kept her unhappy
till she gave him what he wanted, or
something as good. Now, Charles was
eight years old, and had learned to wish
V"Mt A PONY. Y9
cost more money than
~ild afford to lay out, and.
bi1 t6ld her father that she could
it her child; but the thought
~%in away to a school grieved
fitidh, that it made her iillin' to '
i'?xW -aith a great deal of troui i.'
'etlitlenan was both wise1 '
loved his little grandson deal e
eklbl~fher that if she would trust
t doM him for a few weeks, he would
!-1. rt.i he could do, with God's bles-
,I6 Ad shdt* hi hifaults, and to teach
Shi~-biibetter way. Mrs. Nelson was.
qti-ihlling to part wifh her boy; but
.ister Charlea found out that he was
askfd to pay a visit to his grandfather,
ar the thought pleased him; so he
10 CHARLIE'S WISH; ORv
teased his mother day and night, till she
gave her consent. .
There was a nice garden, and Charles
found many things to amusehim. He
was not a bad tempered boy, but very
lively "and as long as he had nothing to
wish for, he was really a pleasant little
S fellow, whom nobody could help liking.
All went on very well- for some days.
Charles was quite willing to learn the
lessons that his grandfather set him, and
to read in the Bible, and learn' a hymn,
or, indeed, to do anything that he was
told to do; so that his grandfather
began to think of writing a very good
account of him to his mnamma; when
Charles happened to meet with a little
boy of his own age, who rode on a pretty
BUX ME A PONY.
pKo: let him have a ride also,
earning. When he came in, he ran
hgt eold gentleman, and aske3 if
oapgSing to write to his mother;
Aaid be, grandpapa, if you
PI xast; because I have something
Ser.to do for me."
well, Charles, what is it? .
ah must buy me a pony, and send
1i r ,to me now; or else, aa soon as
E got it, I will go home, for I want
Xid every day on a pony such as
1 "Hawthorne has."
...i grandfather shook his head, and
,qi l" I cannot do what you.wish, my
cr.i.boy; a pony eats a great deal,
.4 would want a stable to live in, and
groom to look after it. Your dear
12 CHARLIE'S WISH; OR,
mamma has no proper place for such an
animal, nor money enough to afford to
keep it well."
But, grandpapa, she can get a little
stable:built cheap, and can get leave for
it to graze in a meadow just by our
house; and, as for taking care of it, we
Sshall soon find a boy to come and look
after it with me. Only tell mamma that
I must have a pony, and that I can't be
put off from having a pony,.and that I
shall fiet till I get a pony, and she will
make some shift to afford it, you will see."
SThis grieved the old gentleman sadly;
it showed how very selfish Charles was,
and how little thought he had about
his poor fond mother. By her making
a shift, he could only mean that she
^* ..~ -
BUY ME A PONY.
i p>p herself of some little comfort,
aps, of something she really
in order to find money to lay
this fancy of his. Grandpapa
.i. directly speak, for he was think-
a-qout his dear daughter's sorrows:
cfharles soon spoke again, saying,
: ., grandpapa, will you write9 or
eVither of us, in the way you mean,
4dekar," said grandpapa, mildly.
hat won't you help me to get a
When my heart is set on it?
StNo, Charles; you must not set. your
t upon anything that is either. out
~your reach, or not proper for you to
little boy looked very cross, and
14 CHARLIE'S WISH; OR,
if he dared he would hive gone into a
passion. He sat sulking, and kicking
his foot against the leg of the table,
every now and then peeping into his.
grandpapa's face, to see whether there
was any h6pe of a change. But the
old gentleman was not looking at him;
he kept his eyes on the open Bible before
him, and his heart was lifted up in
prayer to the Lord; for he saw that
Charles wanted the new heart which
God alone can give, and he Was praying
for wisdom, that he might -be able to
lead the little boy to seek that good gift
In a short time they were called to
dinner, in the next room; and the old
gentleman, whose name Was Mr. Hope,
DO BUY ME A PONY.
and waited ,for Charles to rise
Offer his shoulder for him to
.jk because he had the gout; but,
i a~y, Charles ever stirred, and
*dpypa had to reach for his
,stick, and hobble along by him-
| When he got to the table, he
o;me time to ask a blessing
She sat down; but no Charles
S and it was not till he had twice
tiat the boy obeyed, and slowly
,k" place. Oh, if children knew
rpuch pain their sullen looks give to
. 4erts that best love them, they
i3 be sorry to cause it!
.Hope was as kind as ever, but
jp~ve; he offered Charles a share
4i. nm g on the table, but the young
16 CHARLIE'S WISH; OR,
gentleman only answered, "No I thank
you, sir," or ,muttered, I am not
hungry--I cannot eat.' Grandpapa
went on with his own dinner, and when
Charles would not have any pudding, he
said, perhaps; you are ill, and want
Charles replied, "I do not wapt
physic; and then, half crying, he said,
"I want a pony."
"Not here,.I hope," said grandpapa;
"I should be very sorry to gee a pony in
Smy clean parlour;" and Charles was
S very angry, hut he only showed it by
S pouting his lip, and holding one shoulder
as high as his ear.
After dinner he went out; but it W
ask every one he met, how much a
DO BUY ME A PONY.
*Itld cost and what it would eat,
Smany other questions that showed
btbd was taken up with the silly
.~' At tea he was hungry, and glad
).te,'thick bread and butter; but he
d 'not talk to his kind grandpapa;
.|when he repeated his hymn, it was
voice so low as hardly to be heard,
ie mumbled over the chapter in
ill-temper, that Mr. Hope cried out,
es,. Charles, remember whose
S.... yof:. are taking into your mouth,
^i d67 not show such a naughty temper.
~i the book, and kneel down, that we
-IPW against temptation."
next morning was a bright sunny
a;'nd at first Charles jumped up as
aVand happy as usual, but he soon :
18 CHARLIE'S WISH; OR,
thought of his new trouble, and began
to feel cross. He said his prayers, but
without caring whether his heart went
S i. h with his lips; and then he began to
seek for a sheet of paper, that he might
write a letter to his mamma, and insist
on having the pony. He had not begun
it when he was called to family prayers,
for Mr. Hope was an early riser; and
ll the time that God's word was be~im
read, and prayers put up, poqr Charles
was adding to his sin by thinking of
what he should say in the letter that was
to make his mamma unhappy.
Breakfast being over, Mr, Hope- asked
Charles if he had had a goodnight.
Not very good, grandpapa, because-
because of the pony."
I BtY VaE A PONY. 19
S l'.Chtrfles, if you have not all
aW fancy you would like, instead
ig about what you haven't,
HK f the many blessings that you
hi4-tii of health and strength,
B deit; good clothes to wear, and
tS;to love you and take care of you.
t'things are sometimes wanting
8sotiy &children, who still can be
t he Lotd, because they know
B Christ died for them, to re-
ii ~oti. t God by his blood; and,4
it-fter this short life of trial is ended,
Aty hall dwell with him in glory for
Miles said nothing.
" Omiee, my dear boy, here is a 'ery
book, and I have found a stoa for
20 CHARLIE'S WISH; OR,
you to read, that will both please you,
* and show you how happy a contented
spirit can be, under real and sore di-
Now, Mr. Hope had a way of his own
when he wanted to give instruction to
such people as our little Charles. Instead
of arguing the matter again with him,
he said, Well, if you do not wish tp
read, we must think of somethingels:,
I will send you with a mess to a lady
living a short way from us. You will
easily find the house standing in the
middle of a small plantation, to the left
of the field where you flew your.fLe-two
"I know the place, grandpapa.". A
"Go, then, and present my regards to
SBO BUY ME A PONY.
jl, ardi say I request she will take
s to-morrow; and bring her
Edwin. If she asks you to
and play with him awhile now, I
Objection. So be off."
fWa ent Charles very happy to get
f4A d hoping that he should have a
talk about ponies with Edwin Bell,
ihe had never before heard 6f.
h little Charles we must be sorry
ihm, jshen we think how much he
Shithait ine morning. The sun was
.i. .. on green meadows, gay and
ly9I ,with a thousand flowers-butter-
sies, and cowslips. All along
bank, under the hedge, the soft and
but cheerful looking primroses
m among their round pillow of
22 CIIARLIE'S WISH; OR,
leaves, The hawthorn was budding
4ve them, and happy little birds were
chirping and hopping from twig to twig;
while young lambs, *ith meek faces and
merry hearts, jumped and played on the
grass where their mothers fed. Poor
Charles I he never minded any of these
pleasant sights, nor thanked the- good
Lord whose hand made them; for his
foolish heart was still set on having whA`.
he could not get. -
He walked slowly, looking on the
ground, and kicking pebbles before him,
tillhe came to a sort of grove, where a few
young trees grew, and many narrotpaths
were trodden among them. There he
saw a lady walking, and by her side a
very lovely little boy, younger than him-
', : "
: ,.' ; '*.. ^ -.
DO BUY ME A PONY.
walked carefully along. Charles
i'ft might be Edwin Bell with
a, and he stayed a little on one
Bt6d let them pass; but before they
iato where he was, the child said,
W- gentle voice, mamma, I smell sweet
i ;SJ N may I gather some?"
Al YtW. love," said the lady, there are
s on the bank, hid among the leaves,
shall go and try to find some."
Svo they turned to the side where
alf0es was, and he saw the little boy put
Anlee to the ground, and move his
ad bbot among the leaves; but all the
itilt'lhe kept fast hold of his mamma'
4tithethehe hand. He found a flower,
d held it up, and turned his face to
O l saying, See here;" anfd Charles
CHARLIE 8 WISH; OR,
thought he had never looked on so8weet
a face; but there was one thing wanting
-the eyes were closed-the boy was
Now, Charles, with all his faults, was
tender-hearted in some things; and he
felt so sorry, so very sorry, for that little
blind boy, that he could almost have
cried to think how sad and dull he must
always be. But again the soft voice
spoke, and said, "'tore flowers, mamma:
I am getting quite a nosegay of them.
How very good the great God is to make
the flowers so sweet !" and he held them
to his face, and then tried to reach to his
mamma's, that she might smell them
too. The lady stooped down, and smelt
the flowers, and kissed the gentle hand
, DO BUY ME A PONY. 25
d them, and said, "God is love,
Edwin, and all his works are good,
all. his ways are true."
Yes, mamma, I remember the psalm,
AA1 thy works praise thee; and all thy
saints give thanks unto thee.' It is plea-
'1unt to give thanks, mamma, is it not ?"
S -Before the lady could answer, Charles
MBtepped forward and said, pray, ma'am,
.e you Mrs. Bell; and is this Edwin
;,-" Yes, I am Edwin," said the boy;
S.:'t I don't know who you are; I have
m fot heard your voice before, have I ?"
Then Charles gave his grandfather's
message, and& the lady said she would
:'go; "Oh, how nice! I love old Mr.
IxHope; and I dare say I shall love you.
26 CHARLIE'S WISH ; bR~
How tall are you? Come here and let
me feel you."
Charles walked up close to him, and
while the little fellow ran his hands over
him, he looked very hard at that beauti-
ful and happy blind face, and thought
he had never seen one so sweet.
"You are not very tal~" said Edwin,
" and I dare say you will play with me,
and I shall like you :but stop, have you
been taught from the Bible, as I have
been, and do you love God?"
Charles said nothing; he felt as if he
dare not say, yes; but Edwin put out
his arms, and lifting up his face with a
very earnest look, he said again. "I want
to know if you love God, who is so good
to us. He made the sun that is shining
Chailes and Ed:lwin.
J ni ile Tales -- i'h:arl ie'. Wish.
DO BUY ME A PONY. 27
rilmi upon me; he made the birds that
.are singing yonder; he made those
Sflewei that smell so very sweet. And
:besides he made us; and what is more
than all, he gave his own Son o die for
Sii. Oh, don't you love God ?"
'. : -I am sure I ought," said Charles,
?ho was ro*. to burst out crying,
though he hardly knew why
SMrs. Bell looked at him very kindly,
Sind. said she would leave Edwin with
him, if he would take care of him while
ihe went to speak to a poor woman 'at .:
T he cottage close by. So the two little
, boys were left by themselves; and
*' Charles was as busy as a bee, picking
I flowers for Edwin to tie up in a nosegay,
4P o put oni his dear mamma's table, .
put on ma"s table.
28 CHARLTE'S WISH ; OtR,
While they were doing this, and talking
very happily, the sound of a horse's feet
was heard trotting albng the road; and
Charles was put in mind of his fancy;
for, to tell you the truth, he had quite
forgotten it. So he said to his little
friend, "should not you like to ride ai
"I cannot ride, Charles, because I
S"Ah, but should not you like it if
"I do not know, 4 never think about
it. If God saw fit for me to tide, I
should not be blind."
"Well, but you may wish to do it,
though you cannot."
S"Every morning," said Edwin, "I
DO BUY ME A PONY.
pray to be kept front wishing for any-
thing that God does no| see good -to
give me. There are a great many things
that I can't have, and that I can't do,
lke other children, because 4 cannot
age; and how sad it woild be to be
always wishing and fretting for them,
when I should be thanking God all day
for what he gives me. I can't fly a
kite, nor bowl a hoop, nor catch a ball,
or- play at all in a party of boys. I.
might fret about such things, if I did
*w0t keep praying for a. contented mind.
And then, dear mamma-how unhappy
she would be if she saw me fretting for
what I cannot have !"
Charles- said no more; but I cannot
eAll you how much he thought as he
30 CHARLIE S WISH; OR,
walked home agaiu Every thing that
he saw made him feel how very wicked
he had been; and his grandpapa was
quite surprised to see him. look so
humble,,and to hear him speak so softly.
After he had- given Mrs. Bell's message,
he said, "Grandpapa, have you written
to mamma about the pony ?"
S "I am glad of it; and will you please
forgive me, and will you pray'to God to
S -give me too?"
"Indeed I will, mny dear boy," vsasi
his grandfather; and Charles layig his
hand on the old gentleman's shoulder,
while the tears ran down his cheeks,
said, "I am very wicked, grandpapa.
. win Bell is blind; he cannot fly.
)DO BUY ME A PONY. 31
S kite, nor catch-a ball, he cannot run
S about the fields, nor see any of the
pretty sights that I see all day long.
; Yet he does not fret for them, nor
S anything else, because he loves God,
aid prays to him, and thanks him for
what he has. Now I am not blind, nor
Jtame, nor sick; I can play about, and-
' and-" Here Charles was forced to
S top, for his 4obs choked him.
"My dear, dear child, how thankful
S I am that the sight of little Edwin ba.
en so blessed to-you I He is a lamb of
the floRk whose Shelherd is the Lord Jesus
Chriet; and you know what is written
in the beautiful twenty-third Psalm, The
S Lord is my Shepherd: I shall not want
V sheep and the lambs of that fo i
3 CHARLIJG'S WiS6H; O,
never do want; for they know that their
shepherd gives them all that is really
good for them."
"But I ainot a lamb of that flock,
But when God shows us the evil that
is in our hearts, and leads us to pray that
it may be taken away, it is a happy sign
that we shall soon rejoice with the sheep
of his pasture. We are all very wicked,
S"y :y .t it is very ha* to make us see
.: -<. sin. God the Spirit shows it to us;
Un'.;nd if then we really pray to/ have;it
:i washed away in the'blood ofi Jerand
S.i- tk. a Pew heart given, and'" new
..t within us, we. shall find the
Sapower of God will do it all; and
hall learn to love him so, that iisal
DO BUY ME A PONY.
things, great and small, at all times, our
very hearts will be able to say, 'Thy will
be done, 0 Lord '"
TThen Mr. Hope took tht Bible, and
showed little Charles many things to
prove, that what he had said was indeed
true; and they prayed together, and
Q wharles was very thankful. Next day,
when Edwin Bell and his mamma cime,
how happy the two little boys were toga,:.:.
| their! They played about on th i
Smooth grassplat, and Charles took
Sg~iet care not to let even a stone lie i.
Bjtin*4pati, for fear, heumight
hi. myself against it., He b6o
' the sweetest -flowers to smell th"th 7
Asked his grandpapa's leave for E ii.
some. The blind boy all the w
34 -CARLIE'S WISH ; OR,
was crying out how happy he was, and
how good was the Lord to make every-
body so kind to him. Once he said I
should like to see the bright things about
me, Charles; but if I did, perhaps I
should still find something else to wish
for that God has not seen good for me
to have, and so I should be sinning more
and more. Oh, I am a happy little boy,
to have so many dear friends, and such a
Saviour to wash away my sins, and to
take me to heaven at last, where I shall
see HIM !"
SWhen they had- played enough, they
sat down on a little garden set;ad id
Edwin repeated some pretty hymns, and
they sung them too, as cheerful as the
,* birds over their heads. And Mrs. Bell
DO BUY ME A PONY. 35
'asked leave for Charles to come and see
his dear little friend as often as his grand-
papa could spare him. I don't think a
S whole week's riding on young Haw-
thorne's pony would have pleased Charles
so much as it did to hear the old gentle-
S man say," he shall go very often."
Mr. Hope kept Charles with him a
S short time longer; and when he went
back to his mother, it was with a heart
S full of love; and the widow's home was
I ; made joyful, because her son had learned
the great lesson that everybody must
learn, who would be happy: "Godliness
with contentment is great gain;" andd
"in everything give thanks."
* *i ':
THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES;
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES;
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
"WILL you please, mamma, to give me
two pence or three pence, to buy some
marbles?" said Thomas.
"Why, Ithought," replied his mrmma,
"that you had a bagful not long ago."
Yes, I have a great many, mamma-
we play with them between school-hours,
S ard I am now able to play so much better
than the othir boys'of my size, that I
S win a great number; however, I want
Sa larger stock, and if you give me
what I ask for now, I dare say, I
40 THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR,
shall bring home a shilling to-morrow
Ilis mamma looked very grave, and
said "surely, Thomas, you do not play
at marbles for money ?"
Oh, no, mamma, that would be gamb:
ling, you know. I will tell ybu how it
is: the boy who loses his marbles must
buy more; and, instead of going to the
shop, he buys them of the boy who wins
most; I sold some to-day, and I win so
fast, that I am sure of getting four or five
times as much as I lay out. It is all fair,
"But that is gambling."
How can it be so, mamma ? I have
heard you often speak against ganes of
chance, and, therefore, I never play any;
D'ONT PLAY FOR MONEY.
but -there is no chance in this, it is all
skill, and, as we don't play for money,
how can it be gambling ?"
"My dear boy, I will endeavour to
answer your question; but first, let us
understand fully the subject on which
we speak-what do you mean by the
word gambling ?"
"Why, I think it means playing at
something where you don't know who
will win; and where the person who
wins is to get money by it."
As for not knowing who shall win,
my dear, that is the case with all-games.
Who would engage in.any, where he was
certain of losing."
"That is true, mamma; then I suppose
I must say that gambling is playing a
game of chance."
.12 TOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR,
"No," replied his- mamma, "it is the
attempt to possess ourselves of what
belongs to another, by means of any
game, or other method, by which we hold
out to him also the hope of winning.
When two people play for money, they
are both gamblers, though only one can
win; and there are ways of gambling
without playing at any game at all, and
where the parties concerned may never
see each other ?"
"What are they, mamma ?"
A lottery is one, whereby thousands
have been brought to ruin. The govern-
ment has set aside this most wicked
custom of public gambling; and I hope
it will never again be permitted to dis-
grace our country. But there are more
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
private lotteries called raffles, which are
in their way nearly as bad. They excite
the same covetous and envious feelings,
and, as they spring from the same root,
of course the fruit is not very different."
"Oh, mamma," said Thomas, "I re-
member there was a raffle last year, when
my cousin put in, as they called it, to
raffle for a work-box; and my sister
asked you to let her do the same, but
you would not. I remember, too, how
cousin Anna cried, because her number
was the very next to that which won;
and how she fretted at having spent all
her pocket-money, to no purpose, except
to be made jealous and angry. Yes, I
see how the raffle was gambling, but
not my marbles, mamma."
44 THOMAS.AND HIS MARBLES ; OR,
"Patience, Thomas; we have more to
talk of before we come to the marbles.
Another sort of gambling is horse-racing,
and that, to be sure, is on a terribly large
scale The owners of the horses gam-
ble, for there are valuable prizes to be
won; the jockeys who ride them gamble,
for though a regular price is paid to each,
the winner is sure of a handsome present
in addition. The Ibye-standers are all
tempted to gamble, by laying bets upon
different horses and riders. Oh, my dear
boy, how often have I prayed that you
may ever be kept from becoming a par-
taker in the sin of those who by going
to such places encourage, if they do not
join in, the dreadful vices of' cruelty
and gambling.' These words ought to
DON T PLAY FOR MONEY.
be written over every approach to a
"I am sure, mamma, I should be
sorry to be found there," said Thomas.
"I believe it, my dear boy, and anxiety
to keep you from whatever may lead to
such vices, prompts me now to caution
you. I think that, on reflecting, you
will own your plan of making money by
your marbles, to be much in the spirit of
"But how, mamma? "
"You will set about the game with
the direct purpose of winning not only
some of your neighbour's goods, but
also his money. You look at the bag
'of marbles in another boy's hand, and
calculate that, by your superior skill, ;ou
~a~r~C~fivr*-rc~;----* u7I-r~aJ--l~,-)-rari-- ~--CI-i~a -~----r~--- .~.-r~-l--br-~dlr-- ---- '31
46 THOMAS AND H IS MARBLES ; OR,
will be able to win them. You consider
that he must have more to go on with,
when he has lost those, and you intend
to let him buy back from you what you
have got out of his bag. Now, Thomas,
explain to me the differen-e between
winning the money at once out of his
pocket, and winning what he must give
money to recover."
Thomas looked rather puzzled; but
the heart of man is full of vain excuses,
for the evil which it loves, so he set about
defending his favourite sport. Perhaps,
mamma, the boy would not wish to go
on playing when he had found he had
lost so many."
"That would not alter your motives,
Thomas; but I am sorry to observe that
DON T PLAY FOR MONEY.
losses at play rarely make the loser wise.
He generally goes to it again, with
double zeal, to regain what he has lost."
"Yes, that is true: I used to lose
very much, and thought at times that I
had better leave off; but the boys who
won persuaded me to go on, and I
played more in earnest, and practised
till I could win too."
"Then you have answered your own
objection, Thomas ?"
"No, mamma; at least there is no
proof that I should be wrong, for if the
boy chose to buy more marbles, he
might get them of some other, and then
it would not be I who had won his
money, you know."
"Ah, Thomas," said his mamma,
48 THOMAS AND HIIS MARBLES; OR,
"how sorry I am to hear you speak
thus. You lay out two or three pence
in marbles, that you may engage largely
in play, telling me that you do it on
purpose to win, and to sell your win-
nings, in the hope of bringing back four
or six times as much money as you took
out; and when I represent to you that
the spirit of gambling lies at the root of
such a plan, you try to shift it off by
supposing cases, where others would
possibly gain what it is your settled pur-
pose to get hold of; as if the deliberate
S intention of a wrong thing lost its guilty
character, when the person who planned
it, was against his wish prevented fi'om
succeeding. Is that honest, my dear
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
Thomas hung his head; his mamma
went on: "Now, if you should not be
able to sell your winnings, but be obliged
to keep a great bagful of marbles, that
you could not use, would you not regret
the' pence so unprofitably laid out, just
as your cousin Anna regretted her five
shillings lost in the raffle ? "
I need not keep the marbles," said
Thomas, for, at any rate, I could do
what I did last Thursday,"
"And what was that ?"
SWhy, mamma, they persuaded a
little boy to lay out all his pocket-money
in marbles, and because he knew nothing
a.. all of the game, they won them pre-
sently and then laughed at him. I was
vexed to see the poor child cheated and
50 THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES ; OR,
crying; so I went to work, and as
they were no great hands who did it,
I won them nall back again, and gave
them with some of my own, to the
little fellow. Was not that right,
c' Indeed, my love, I must say that it
was far more creditable to you, than join-
ing the plundering party would have been.
Yet, had I witnessed the transaction, I
should rather, have used it as an argu-
ment to dissuade the child from such
play; he might have taken warning by
his loss, and have been the wiser and
better all his life."
I did not think of that, mamma."
No, I dare say not, Thomas; the
passion for play, once indulged, becomes
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
very strong, and drives better thoughts
out of the mind.".
"But, manmma, is there really any
harm in bowling a few bits of round stone,
as we do ?"
Not in the act, certainly, my dear;
it is when that practice becomes a means
of implanting covetous desires in the
mind, that the harm exists."
"Well, now, mamma," said Thomas,
I will tell you something that proves
the truth of what you say. There is a
boy at school whose papa taught him just
what you are so kindly trying to teach
me, and he used to play with his brothers
at home, on a very different plan from
our's. He is a good player too, and the
first time he joined us, he won a great
-- ----- AIIIII~I~W~Z~bll~a~~~
~~U T~----ll-r -- I
5. THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR,
many marbles, which, as soon as the game
was done, he began to give back to the
boys who had lost them. We all laughed
at him, and told him we never returned
our winnings in that way; but we would
buy them again. He answered that it
would be contrary to all he had learned
at home, to let us do so; and, that, if we
would not play according to, his plan, he
should leave it off entirely. He was
made a jest of, mamma, but he seemed to
take it very patiently, and soon made up
a party of three or four little fellows, who
liked to play with him, because he was
so good-natured, and had no objection to
his plan. Often I have wished in my
heart to join them because they seem so
happy, and have no quarrels at their
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
game as the rest have. But the whole
school is against them, and I don't like to
get laughed at and abused, as they do."
Added to which, Thomas," said his
mamma, you have been so long accus-
tomed to play with the hope of depriving
your companions of their property, that
you cannot take so much pleasure in
doing it merely for the sport; is it not
I think it is, mamma; but I cannot
account for it. Somehow, when I see the
cheerful faces of all that little party, after
dividing their marbles again equally, and
putting them by for the next day, I think
they have enjoyed themselves more,
neither winning or losing, than I do with
my bagful of other boys' property, and
54 THOMAS AND EIS MARBLES; OR,
they looking angry and mortified at my
A most striking proof it is, my dear,
said his mamma, that the -natural dis-
position of our hearts is to love evil, and
refuse what is good. Covetousness is
the name of that feeling which overcomes
your better judgment,. and leads you to
prefer depriving your neighbour of his
goods, to possessing his love and confi-
dence. Not that covetousness alone
moves you; there is emulation, or a desire
to surpass others in what has no real.
excellence in it; and there is vain-glory,
which seeks the applause of idle and
unthinking minds. Then when these are
in less active operation, and you feel in-
clined to go over to the better side, false
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
shame starts up and keeps you back,
because you have not courage to endure
a laugh from those whom you know to be
wrong. See, Thomas what powerful
enemies even a little boy has to contend
with, in the play-grOund where he seems
so safe and so happy."
Yes, mamma," said -Thomas, I am
sure that it is so; but how can I get the
better of these things? When I am
older I hope I shall make a bold stand,
but I cannot now."
Now, or never, Thomas. I saw you-
at work in the garden, very busy, about
a rose-bush, what were you doing ?"
"Oh," said Thomas, not sorry to
change the subject, "it was a young
cutting mamma, that had just taken
56 THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR,
root; I want it to grow quite upright,
and to bear a bunch of leaves and flowers
at the top when it is tall, so I am careful
to steady it against a very straight gar-
den-stick, that it may have no knots, but
be a clear, firm stem. You cannot think
how pretty it will look next year, when
it is well grown."'
"But why take so much trouble now ?"
asked mamma; you might let it alone
till it grows up, and then tie it close to
the straight stick, and save yourself this
Ah, I beg your pardon, dear mamma,
but I am a better gardener than you, it
seems. You don't consider, that if I
let this young plant alone, it will fall
to this side and to that side, just as the
DON'T PLAY FOR MONEY.
wind blows it about; and it will grow
stout the while, and get so stubborn,
that I shall be more likely to break it in
the attempt, than to get it perfectly up-
right a year hence."
Thomas's mamma took a Bible in one
hand, and said, "here, my beloved boy,
is the straight, and unbending rule or
standard; and here," laying her hand
on his head, 'is my young rose-tree,
which I desire to see grow up, exactly
trained to this rule, that it may bear
bright flowers, adorning the garden of
Christ's church. To this intent, I care-
fully watch you, while young, and when
I see you bending away from the right
line, I endeavour to correct the evil, and
to bring you close to this perfect
58 THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES; OR,
standard. If the work be deferred,
Thomas, I may dread to see my plant
broken and destroyed, in the attempt to
do what must be done, if you are to
be a tree of the Lord's planting, 'The
crooked shall be made straight,' and this
can only be done by the mighty power
of God, the Holy Spirit; but we are to
be fellow-helpers with him in the work,
and, to this end, we must continually
watch and pray. Gaming is one of the
most fatal and successful snares that
Satan spreads for men, and your method
of carrying on your otherwise harmless
sport, is a sure step toward that deadly
snare. It is, as I told youy a compound
of covetousness, emulation, vain-glory,
and false, or rather guilty shame. Now,
DON T PLAY FOR MONEY.
my dear boy, these are among the sins
for which Christ died to save his people;
mind to save them from their sins, no
less than from punishment. Let this
induce you to pray for grace, at once to
break off what you cannot but see to be
evil and dangerous. Forsake the habit
of seeking to make your gain of a neigh-
bour's loss.. Join to form a party of
playmates, who will agree to act upon a
better principle;$ and be assured tha,
your tender Saviour will vouchsafe his
help even to a child, who desires to
make the fear of the Lord his constant
rule; who would not dishonour the holy
name by which he is called; and who
feels it alike his duty and his interest
to act upon that lovely injunction,
60 THOMAS AND HIS MARBLES.
'whether ye eat or drink, or WHAT-
SOEVER YE DO, do ALL to the glory of
'Tis vain to say we love the Lord,
Unless we also love his Word;
And search the Holy Scriptures through,
To find what God would have us do.
While we delight and live in sin,
How dwells the love of God within?
That child is serving Satan still,
Who hates the Saviour's holy will.
The sins that crucified their Lord,
By God's dear children are abhorr'd;
Too well they love his blessed name,
To put it to an open shame.
Let little children then who dare
To lie or gamble, curse or swear,
Remember that their actions prove,
That God they neither fear nor love.
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
^ "' '* '
[** 1 '* *- .
r' *. '! .- / .,
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
"How untidy this room is !" said
William to his sister, as he walked in,
S with his books under his arm.
"That cannot be helped," answered
Sophia, "for we have been cutting out
frocks and pinafores for the children of
the poor, after mamma's gowns were made
and my frocks. These are the scraps
that fell about; but I will soon gather
64 THE FRAGMENTS; OR,
them up." She did so, crushing them in
her hand, and thrusting all together into
her apron, which she held up for the
purpose. When all were collected,
Sophia was going out of the room, but
her mamma called her back, and inquired
what she was about.
S"Only going to throw away this
rubbish, mamma," said Sophia.
S"What, my dear !" said Mrs. Smith;
and is that all the profit that you have
gained from our morning's work and con-
SC "Why, mamma, surely there is nothing
worth saving among these odds and ends.
The very best is not more than three
inches square. What use would you put
Gatherin the Stray Scraps. P. 64.
THE VALUE OE SCRAPS.
"A great many uses, Sophia. Now
pick out each bit of the size you have
mentioned; separate the different pat-.
Sterns, and then roll up together all the
''. Small scraps in one parcel. And, while
S you are doing it, repeat to me the various
S ways in which we have avoided wasting .
any of these articles as yet." .
SSophia very cheerfully sat down, and
began to sort the little pieces, talking as-
she went on. "First, mamma, at the
shop, when we went to choose two
morning gowns for you, and some frocks
for, Fanny and I, you persuaded me to -
give up having a deep flounce to my frock,
sodthat a cheap remnant was enough,
tstead of cutting into a more expensive
piece. And you gave me the money
66 TH~ FRAGMEONT; OB,
that was saved by it, to put into my
"That was a good exchange," said
William, I canapt think that any body
looks the more respectable for frills and
vrewes; particularly when one see psQ
many little delicate children ill-clothed,
in their mother's arms, in every street,"'
"True, brother," answered Sophia.
"Then the tradesmen wanted mamma'
to give a higher price for a fashiojabi,
new pattern, but she took another just
as neat and pretty, only not so new; a4d,
as it came cheaper, she got a larger
quantity for the same money. 'Tere
was no remnant for Frnny; ana si
being bigger than I, followed mammarn
example, and so had something more
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
than the quantity that was reckoned
enough for her two frocks. To be sre,
Fanny and I wanted our things to be
made by a smart dress-maker; but
S mamma convinced us what a wasteful
thing it would be to pay for fashion.
So we agreed to cut them out at home,
and let the industrious y6ung woman,
who works so hard to maintain her poor
family, have the making of them.
SI like that too," said her brother
for fashions change so fast, that I see
the ladies who follow them soon become
ashamed of a good gown, and must either
haverit altered, 6r buy--another one before
it is half worn, just to avoid being out of
Mamnma said much the same," re-
"IFOR 9,00, '7PWrn;FF~~l fb~C I~
1 I I )RW OR '77 W 5. I=
68 THE FRAGMENTS ; OR,
marked Sophia; "and so; we went to
work this morning,'and made the room
very untidy, to be sure. First, mamma
cut out her own gowns ; and took plenty
of time to consider and contrive how she
might shape them so as to spare the
materials; and when they were done we
found enough for two little frocks, and a
pinafore. Fanny agreed not to have her
sleeves very full, as the fashion is; and
she also spared a tippet by that means,
to the pretty little frock that was left for
a baby. My remnant left only a few bits;
but then I have two shillings to laj out,
that I may also have something to give."
Some people would call tlfis very
stingy," said William; but as I know
that papa helps the religious and chari-
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
table societies every year according to
what he has saved, I am always so glad
to think that any waste is avoided. For
I know he will not stint the poor who
are around us, whatever he denies him-
While William spoke, he was turning
over the leaves of his copy-book to find
one which he tore out, and threw under
Softly, William," said Mrs. Smith;
what are you doing ?"
Oh! I blotted a page, mamma, and
my writing master advised me to take it
".But did he advise you to throw it
"( It is good for nothing," said William,
- .t A.Y "
THE FRAGMENTS; gYR,
taking it up, and showing it to his mother,
who told him to fold it up, and put it in
his pocket, adding, :' what yon were
saying is so very proper, that it is a pity
your deeds should seem to contradict
your words. Your dear papa's conduct
is worthy to be imitated as well as com-
Sophia had now finished her parcels;
and, smiling, showed them to her mamma.
This is as it should be, my dear; and
now put them into your small basket,
with our two shillings. Fanny is com-
ing down stairs; and we will take our
walk, to leave these savings among our
poor neighbours. I dare say that Wil-
liam will like to accompany us."
The party was soon ready to set off.,
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
Mrs. Smith took Fanny's arm, and Wild
hmia indulged Sophia with a run along
the pretty lane that fed to the village.
There is more of miserable poverty in
towns than in the country, and of oouese,
more work for those wh6 can pity the
distressed; but even. in the most coni*
portable village, let the circumstances of
the cottagers be carefully inquired into,
and the rich will be astonished to find
how valuable, among the poor, would be
even a very small part of what they daily
waste and destroy. The frocks, the pina.
fare, and the tippet, were received with
great thankfulness by the mother of some
swakt little children. One in particular,
said, that having now a second 'neat frock,
she could send her youngest boy to the
72 THE TRAGMINTS; OR,
infant-school a good lady had just estab-
lished. Those schools are a great bles-
sing to the, poor ma'am," she said-; for
we can leave the little ones there, instead
of keeping the bigger children at home
to look after them, while we go out to
work. Besides, they learn a great deal
of good there, and are much better be-
haved when at home.
Mrs. Smith asked the poor woman,
if she ever patched the children's clothes.
"Surely, ma'am; or they would last
no time at all"-and she showed a frock
very neatly mended with small bits, as
near its own pattern, as could be found.
Sophia was glad to have her little bundle.
of scraps to match the frock, and the
woman took them joyfully. Mrs. Smith
THB VALUE OF SCRAPS.
now asked whether there were any sick
poor near; and was told that the child of
a neighbour was in the last stage of 'a
decline: the parents being in very great
distress for almost every thing. "Your
two shillings will be of use there, Sophia,"
said Mrs. Smith; and they went to the
The first thing that struck Sophia, in
this miserable place, was the vaiue of
scrape; for the poor sick Ahild was
covered with a piece of patchwork; very
clumsily joined together, to be-sure, but
still making a little coverlid for the nar-
row bed. Every thing bespoke great
poverty; and the either's face showed
that she had been shedding many tears.
In answer to the inquiries of her visitors,
74 THE FRAGUKENTS; O)M,
she said that her eldest daughter was at
service some aniles off, in A great town;
and that; if the kiew of their condition,
she night be able tosend a little help:
adiing, that her son, who had been at a
chaiity 'school, was going to write to
"And how do you maintain your.
selves ?" said Mrs. Smith.
My husband, ma'am, is a labourer;
and gets work by the day, where he can
find it. The last summer was too wet to
afford much employment; and h& took a
bad cold, that made him so weak and ill,
as to be hardly fit for harvest work.
However, he exerts himself, and is now
at his labour. I have been used to go
out to nurse among the neighbours; but
TH~ VALUE OF SCRAPS.
since my poor child got so ill, I can
hardly bear to leave him. Nor, jAdeed,
has there been any work for me lately.
My biggest boy earns a few pence, by
taking out meat for the butcher now and
then; and sometimes his master gives
him a morsel, to make a sup of broth for
poor Tommy"--and she looked at the
wasted figure of her child.
Mrs. Smith approached the little bed,
and asked, "do you think yop shall get
better, my dear?"
"No, ma'am; I am going to die !"
"And are you prepared for such a
great change ?"
The boy looked up at her with a
smiling countenance-" It is Jesus Christ
that has prepared a place for me, ma'am."-
76 THE FRAGMENTS; OR,
"Yes," said his mother, wiping her
.eyes, "that is what he is always talking
about. One w ld suppose he had seen
hi.s Saviour, he seems to know Him so
William repeated, .
"E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Re.eeming love has been my theme,
And shall be, till I die."
The little boy waited till he ad
finished, and immediately wentIn--
"Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue,
Lies silent in the grave."
"D ear boy," said Eanny, where did
you learn these blessed things ?"
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
At the Sunday School, miss. IOh!
and I can repeat a great many chapters
and hymns. Will you hear some ?" '
Not now," said Mrs. Smith, you
are too weak;" for she perceived the
cough ready to come on.
I am boiling a little broth for him,"
said his mother. He has had nothing
The other boy now came in, with a
little ink in a broken cup; and said,
I couldn't get the paper mother : he
was out; and nobody else could give me
The mother took a halfpenny from the
chimney-piece, and, as she did so, looked
sorrowfully at thesick child: then giving
it to the lad, bade him go for a sheet of
78 THe FRAGMENTS; OR,
paper, adding, "unless they would sell a
Oh," said William, if half a sheet
wilB do, I can supply yon; for this is
Sify blotted on one side, and will be out
of sight when folded"--he drew out the
leaf of his copy book; aind one would
have thought it had been a bank-note,
by the smile of pleasure that shone on
the countenances of the little party. The
sick boy said: 'I Then I shall have it,
SHave what P" asked William.
"Oh, sir," replied the elder boy, poor
Tommy was wanting sadly to have a big
onion in his bith, it makes such a
relish. Mother had only that halfpenny;
and if I had got a sheet of paper' from
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
our old achoolIaster, Tommy might
have the onion; but otherwise it mist
go for paper. So now I'll rur for the
onion ;" and away he scampered.
The young people had all known what
it was when sick, to fancy that they could
relish spme particular thing; and they
were greatly affected to think how nearly
the poor child had been disappointed of
such a trifle.
Who would have thought," said
William," that a scrap of blotted paper .
would be of such value ?" -
Ah. sir," answered the poor woman,
" there are few things that we do not
contrive to make somTwn se of. We ar
eften brought to Qur last halfpenny, and A
beyond it; and a smaller matter than
THE FRAGMENTS ; O,
you would think of, will help a poor fa-
mily at a pinch. We reared a good bed
of onions-this spring; but distress forced
us to sell even them; and pow as the
season is quite gone, we couldn't get one
without paying for it."
SNow, tell me,- said Sophia, taking
out her little bundle of shreds, "what
use would you put these to ?"
"Oh, miss, the rag-dealers buy such
bits as those by the pound, and sell them
to the paper-makers. Many a three-pence
have I made by them; and often when
it was sadly wanted. Thank you kindly
miss, she added, as Sophia put them into
her hand, and may you never learn the
Svalue of such things in the way that I
have learned it."
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
Mrs. Smith was datisfied t at Sophia
could not better lay out her two shillings,
than in the service of this poor family,
which she did; and on her way home,
the young people thanked their dear
mamma for giving them such a lesson and
example, determining never to waste a
single thing: because, if it was not use-, .
ful to others, it might prevent expense to
themselves, and the money so saved was
always valuable to the poor. Their
Aiamma advised them to read 'what the
apostle Paul says to the Corinthians:
upon the first day of the week, let every
One of you lay by him in store, as God
hath prospered him." 1 Cor. xvi. 2;
and-proposed that at the end of a month
they should compare their notes, and see
~.. ~P 1
-. -- -- ~r~lElIICbr~i~Csrm~~CB~I~~"~mp*
82 THE FRAGMENTS; OR,
how much-each might have to lay out for
the poor. At the same time, she cau-
tioned them not to lessen their usual
charities; as, in that case, they would
wrong some in order to assist others;
and this would be an offence to the Lord
who says, I hate robbery for burnt
offering;" while he also tells us to gather
up the fragments that nothing be lost.
"And this he said," continued Mrs.
Smith, "after satisfying the wants of all
around him; showing us that a prudent
and careful management of what is to be
spared, not a stinting in what is needed,
is the rule by which we should walk:
Begin and carry on your work in prayer,
that the Lord may direct you rightly,
and keep you humble in the endeavour
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
to serve his poor; 'for, if Satan can but
make you proud of your charity, he
knows very well that you will be bene-
fitting the bodies of others, at the
expense of ruining your own souls."
Oh for the tender heart, that feels
Another's want and grief!
Oh for the willing hand, that deals
A bountiful relief!
How rich was lie, the Lord of grace,
SWhom cherubim adore!
And yet, for our rebellious race,
What poverty he bore.
The Christian name, then, can I bear,
And Christ my Lord confess,
If I my portion do not share
With brethren in distress ?
God knows his gifts, their whole amount,
He marks how they are spent;
He will demand a strict account,
For every talent lent.
84 THE FRAGMENTS ; OR,
FANNY, William, and Sophia, had
come to an agreement that, in order to
avoid any danger of "envyings," or
"emulations," they would put into one
common box whatever was saved by
each, and take the whole to their dear
mamma at the end of the month. They
knew that she would then be preparing
her bounty of winter clothing and firing,
and blankets for the poor; and their
only wish was to help her as much as
possible all together, not to get separately
commended according to what they
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
might have beeh able to save. "For,"
said Fanny, "one of us may have more
opportunity than another, of putting
something by; and it would be hardly
fair to get praised for what was not of
our own procuring." Now, as Fanny
herself was the one who might be sure of
getting most, her brother and sister
loved her the better for this proposal;
and they each prayed to be directed and
assisted in what they felt to be a great
uty, not any merit.
On the first of November, the three
young people made their appearance
before their mother, bringing the box.
Which bore this suitable inscription on
its lid; "now, therefore, our God, we
thank thee, and praise thy glorious name.
THE FRAGMENTS; OR,
But who am I, and what is my people,
that we should be able to offer so
willingly after this sort? For, all things
come of thee, and of thine own have we
given thee." 1 Chron. xxix., 13, 14.
The box being emptied upon their
mother's table, she desired them to
consider the text which they had put
upon it, and to kneel down, to beseech
the Lord to accept their little offering,
confessing that from him alone came the
power and the will to devote even so
small a portion of his many gifts to the
service of his poor. This being done,
they counted the money; but I shall
not tell how much there was, because I
desire that each of you my dear readers,
will do what you can: not making the
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
deeds of others, but your own ability,
the measure of your bounty. Remember
the two mites of the poor widow, you
that have little; and you that have much
think on the costly offerings of king
Solomon. God has not now a temple on
earth made with hands, like that of
Jerusalem, into which all gifts cafi be
poured; but Jesus Christ made our
nature his temple, by causing the fulness
of his Godhead to dwell in a mortal
form, and whatsoever you do unto his
poor members, is indeed an acceptable
gift brought into the temple of the
"Now, Fanny," said Mrs. Smith,
"let us hear what methods of saving
you have discovered."
88 THE MKAGMENTS ; OR,
"Why, mamma, it is wonderful how
many ways I have often overlooked from
not thinking enough about it.' I now
perceive that we can be very frugal in
saving money to purchase what will
gratify our taste and pride, and that this
is a wrong principle; I hope to act
according to a higher and holier prin-
ciple. I have gained at least the price
of half a quire of good paper, by not
* ipg:ah hamed to send notes or make
envelopes of what would be called shabby
scraps, when writing to my own friends;
I also determined not to give up so
much time to unnecessary correspond-
ence, and by that means, am beginning
to save both in paper and postage, and
have more leisure to work for the poor.
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
You know, mamma, that I don't mean
to make any more fancy articles, as they
are called, for the ladies' sales; because
the gentleman who was lately here, con-
vinced me that it was taking the bread
out of the mouths of many poor, indus.
trious, friendless young girls; but I hav
learned some useful things, such as
cementing broken ware, and cutting out
all sorts of clothing, and so on, by which
I can employ myself both at home' a64l d :
in teaching the cottagers about us.
There are plenty of poor, aged, crippled
people, who can neither work for them.
selves, nor afford to pay others. I have
not forgotten our shopping a month
since; and by that- plan of reckoning
what may be put by, I have saved not
90 THE FRAGMENTS ; OR,
a little both in money and articles. A
rag-bag is a thing that we had never
thought about; and you would be sur-
prised to see our fine collection of pieces,
indeed we have begged among our friends
for what few people think of saving;
and we often find among them a bit
large enough for a poor baby's cap, or
to look very respectable in such a patch-
work counterpane as poor little Tommy
is covered with. When we really have
nothing else to do, we make a little
patchwork ourselves, to encourage the
children in the cottages to begin. A
small bit ready made to their hand, often
induces them to go on till they take
quite a pleasure in the work. These are
our savings in goods"-and she brought
forward a pretty large basket.
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
Fanny has finished her report," said
William, "and now my turn comes. My
savings have been chiefly in the way of
avoiding waste, for I could not earn
money as the young ladies do. How-
ever, I have begged a bit of ground from
appa, on which I mean to raise some
onions and herbs, and lay them by for
winter. Then, I have left off throwing
away my pens after once mending, and
am. determined to make them last. I
have also got quite a collection of waste
paper, or what I should have called so a
few weeks since. Out of some savings
I have bought a store of packthread and
some large netting needles, and have
taught several old people and children
in the cottages about us, to make cab-
92 THE FRAGMENTS ; OR,
bage nets, and nets for wall-fruit, which
will employ them in the winter evenings,
and they can sell them to good advan-
tage next year. I think that I am also
rather more careful of my clothes, since
I have found out the value of a little
saving; and I have checked myself when
wishing for some useless things, in which
I often laid 'out my pocket-money; and
this has enabled me to put some shillings
into the box. My visits to Tommy, who
is so delighted when I go to read a little
for him, have kept me mindful how the
poor are obliged to struggle, and to do
without many things that we think quite
necessary; and I never come home from
his cottage, without feeling how guilty
I have been all my life, and still am, in
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
wasting so much. I have had many
thoughts, mamma, about the unprofitable
servant, who hid the talent in a napkin:
and since you told us that everything
which we have, is lent on purpose to be
improved to the glory of God, I have
prayed for grace to employ my time,
health, and all that I have learned, as
well as my little stock of money, in the
service of Him who entrusts them to
me, that I may not be condemned at
last, with the unprofitable servant, who
was cast into outer darkness, where
there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
So that though as yet I have done but
little, I hope I have learned much : and
I shall endeavour to go 'on learning
the useful lesson of gathering up the
fragments, that nothing may be lost."
94 TIlE FRAGMENTS; OR,
"I am glad to hear all this," said Mrs.
Smith; and now what report has my
little -Sophia to. make ?"
"Oh, mamma," said Sophia, "I have
so little to tell, that I am ashamed of
myself. I have often thrown away whole
hours upon a doll's dress, and excused
myself for it by fancying that it would
help me to get a knack, as they call it,
at making my own clothes; but one day,
papa, seeing me very much pleased with
a fine frock and pink ribbons that I had
put upon my doll, told me that I was
wishing in my heart to be as fine myself.
I did not think so then; but when I
came to consider a little, certainly I had
been fancying to myself that wheti I grew
up I would like such a tasty dress. Papa
THE VALUE OF SCRAPS.
also asked me, if it was not as\greeable
to be sewing a good cotton frock for a
poor ill-clothed baby; and when he saw
that I had put away my doll, he took me
to the draper's, and bought several little
remnants of printed cotton-Fanny cut
them out; and you will find them in the
basket with some caps, made out of bits
that were in the rag-bag, and a baby's
shirt made of some cambric given me for
my doll-the wooden creature-oh I'll
never work for her again! Well, there
are also small bits of patch-work that I
helped Fanny to put together. As for
the box, I did what I could, but it is not
much: however, as William said, we
are learning, mamma, and that is some-
I I i III n mr ~~~"~~
96 THE FRAGMENTS ; OR,
"I hope that you are learning, my
dear children," said her mamma; but,
always guard against any pride or vain-
glory that you might be tempted to feel,
when comparing your present carefulness
with' former waste. Thlat was a great
sin; and if you are avoiding it now, give
all the glory to God, who has mercifully
put it in your hearts to forsake an evil
way; and remember that you will soon
fall back into carelessness and neglect, if
you do not obtain his continual help, by
prayer. Your papa has noticed your late
conduct; and, as it has been a saving to
us in many things, I believe that you
will find he has put something into your
box too, for an encouragement. Oh, my
dears! how many. a- poor person whom