4>** ^ v
Asua ba hoAa lyfig @l*o tae mad, wuoIg.
gleoarts tgldat bnhr art;
FOR THEIR YOUNG FRIENDB
AMELIA AND ANNII.
GEO. W. BRIGOS & 00.
hAm i aailfng to Act c Caroisp 1. the ya 1813, by
A. N. BRIGGS,
In te Clerk's Ofte of the District Court of Xueaheusotte
WE pamnu inn
IoUQMrY 01 OUR GATENUJG.
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O, IIsl n! Jane BmliA is gale
to Lave a party next Thmrday, and she
has invited. me. O, I am so happy
Will you let me go, mother? ad little
Ella Lovell, all out of breath in her bhry-
to communicate the impora fact to her
"So you wish to go, p"r? i
O, yee; I m t go, wi' It
6 FLOWEBB THAT NBVER FADE.
Only think! Lottie will be there, and
Callie, and Adelaide, and all the girls;
so, of course, I must go."
"( 11, Ella, I shall be happy to have
you go, and wQi give iy consent; but
something may happen to prevent. If
so, will my little girl remember, aad.not
be cross about it ?"
0, mother,.don't ay so! There is
always an if! "
I know 4of wpthing now dear, to
prevent your going, and e y _Yg your-
self. But we must not set ear minds
too much upon pleasure, because we
know not what may.occur in one day, or
even one hour, from the present. Do
you remember, Ella, when we were all
preparing to go to Aunt Louisa's, and lit-
tle Chtlie was taken sick ?"
yes indeed, mamma! Howsorry
we all felt, pr dear Charlie was so very,
,That was a ad day for us, my child;
but it was God whb willed. W*.kould
not murmur. 'wr swelChrlie is al-
ways well aid happy now."
"Yes, mother; I remember how
plbasant he looked when they put him
in the uiin. He seemed to-look at ut
and sme Aid 4a't be, mother ?"
"Yes; he ws.hapyi then, free bim,
all paint o will you, so wilP all of us
be, wheq.we come to die; for to die is
to go home.' Now, Ella, will you sing
your little hymn, and prepare for rest,
and to-morrow we will talk more of
Ella stood by her mother's side, and,
after imprinting a sweet kiss on Wr lips,
sang, in a clear, low voice, the following
8 NwomWs IUan ms IMasF .
hymn, which her kind mother had taught
Happy the day hi pied,
Happy the en h eaN,
In or qaet mae.
Ive oad peM rpg here;
No dimaadrt aomad
Oms to mr orjoy;
All is bis auedL
hAd I my w be
Dutiml mad i!
sam ftm day to day
Pae ad joy we ind.
Now we go to mt,
At the me g eal;
Let m er be
Oheerfbl, oe ad &U.
Ift we ake at mre,
Hlp asah, we pay,
TU PA L. 9
IM ai eaMsh iag day.
Happy hea we bee,
Happy misy we be,
Do grgood to l,
Trying Lad,in tbee!
When Ella had song her evening
hymn, and given the "good-night" kim,
she went to her little bed, and, kneelig
beside it, breathed a prayerem her
pure heart, and tp sought that rest so
re&ehing to the health and spirit of
chillood, On the morrow, when she
met her mother, she told her she had
never slept so sweetly in her lfe. Her
mother told her it was because she had
been so good the day previous. And
this is always the way. Whn children
ae good they will be happy, and leep
10 FLOWERS THAT NEVER FADE.
sweetly. After breakfast, Mrs. Lovell
told Ella she would go out and purchase
her a new dress for the party. This was
more than she expected; and, when she
reflected how good her mother was, she
resolved that she would never perplex
her again, or get cross if anything should
prevent her going to the party. The
dress was bought and made, and the
long-wished-for day arrived whdn Ella,
accompanied by her mother, went to the
house of her friend, Jane Burditt, where
she was received with many smiles by
her little playmates, and they spent a
pleasant afternoontogether. They sailed,
j walked, swung, jumped rope, danced,
sung, and -told stories. Indeed, they
had every amusement they could wish,
and played joyfully till the time for tea.
After having refreshed themselves with
Ts PAmRT. 11
the very nioe supper prepared for them
by Jane's mother, our little girls were
admonished by the darkness-that it was
time to go home. And each, happy and
delighted with the afternoon's enjoyment,
kissed Jane, and separated for their sev-
Ta an was gilding with ba bet bright beam
The daded beauty of a woodland reoe,
A as I breathed the riohly-soeated air,
The sond of happy voices met my ear.
'Tw ftem a group of merry-hearted girl
The sound proeeded oftly waved their ears
On the mild, fagrane-kden asmmer breea,
As there they ported 'neath o'erhanging trees.
It wa a pleasant might, dt fair and young
And happy retures, the green woods amoug,
Gathering the berries, that so thickly grew
Where lofty branch their soft shadows threw.
Umen I gud till they had left the spo,
Nor soon will be ita lovelinem forgot,
Though earth ha many oenes as fair and bright
As that all bathed in golden light.
Fair hildha* thbe ld be a pol f Aherme
Nothing but jy should erown thy fleeting hours;
But yet thou het thy rerows, thog they de,
E'en a befb the sunlight limi nigt's shde.
Oft have I seen thy unprotected am
Exposed to wintry blast and biting storm,
Thy features sharpeed with ken hnngerb pig,
Thy portion, want and wrethedm untold,
O, little think ye, who in ammer houm
Sport gyly where the earth is loathed with sowers,
Who know no care, have ne'er felt miery's blight,
To whom each day remk some new delioht,
That there are those to whom the warm sn bring
But a fint shadow of the joyous thing
That ever in your sunny pathway lies,
0 ye, who dwell where brightly shine the skies !
O, little oan your tender natures know
The pinching want, deep afiering and woe,
14 Lnowma THAT NVnB FnAD.
That wait as those who dwell in darkened streets,
Where saree the light of day their mad eyes greets!
And may ye never know the shame and in
That revel those dark haunt of guilt within;
May He, who Ihield you now from sorrow's darts,
E'er keep you fom the tempter's wily arts.
GOD MADE ALL THINGS.
WHo made the am
To shine so bright,
And placed it high
To give us light
Who made the moon,
And bright stars too,
And ever new I
T was God, who lives
In heave above,
Who made them aU
In his great love.
He made the trees,
The green gra, to,
And the sweet lowers
That bloom or yo.
16 FLOWERS THAT NEVBR FADE.
He made the beast,
The bird so fair,
That flies about
In open air;
And all the creatures
Of the land
Were formed by His
The ocean wide,
The bright, blue sky, -
All, all were made
By God on high!
Children! that God,
Who dwells above,
Has made you all:
His name is Love!
Then, will you strive
To do the good,
Forsake the bed,
As children should I
00D MADE ALL TIRING
If Io, you will
Be bleed indeed,
And he will give you
All you need
To make you happy,
Good and wie,
That you at lat
To Heaven may rie.
THE CROSS LITTLE GIRL.
Mary. Sister, look here a minute,
said a sweet little girl, with blue eyes
and curly hair. Sister, look here. Show
me how to do this, will you ?
Lucy. Dear me, Mary! I wish you
would be still! You are forever teasing!
Mary. But, Lucy, do tell me how
to 'tke this stitch. I wish you would,
for I am trying to learn.
Lucy. Well, what if you are! I
cannot spend all my time teaching you.
Mary. -0, sister! I have only
asked you this time, and you know this
is for mother; so I want to have it look
THN caOBs LMTTL GIRIL. 19
Lucy. -I don't care if you do!
shall not stop to show you.' So, mis,
And so the cross little girl continued
her own work, and would not show her
little sister how to take the stitch that
troubled her, but looked very unhappy,
because she felt so unpleasantly.
Poor little Mary could not help cry-
ing, for she was working a beautiful purse
for her mother, whom she loved dearly,
and always tried to please by being goo&
kind and obedient. '..
Lucy was two years older than Mary,
and ought to have been willing to show
her little sister what she wished. But
Lucy was very fretful. She loved her
good mother and her sweet sister; but
she had the habit of getting very cross
if any one spoke to her when she was
20 nLOWUR THAT NVIUK nAD.
busy. Then she would treat them so
unkindly that she made both herself and
others unhappy. This is very wrong.
We ought all to be kind and pleasant,
ready to assist each other at any time
we are called upon. The mother of
those two little girls was a very kind
woman, and did all in her power to
make her children happy; and I hope
Lucy will yet become as good as her
Com, sister, come!
Let us sing and play
All this merry day;
Come, come away!
Come, sister come!
Morning bells are ringing,
Little birds are singing;
Come, come away!
Come, sister, come!
Enjoy the morning light,
The day is fair and bright;
Come, come away!
Come, sister, come!
Do not lose a minute,
There's something preoiou in it;
*Come, come away!
22 iFOWMI THAT NIB riADB.
Come, sister, oome!
Happy let n be,
Singing, All of glee,
Come, come away!
1nq ea~ad i mml wuhd him ~a hi, Gurim
WHO does not love the sweet flowers,
those emblems of purity and innocence ?
Every little girl should have a flower-
garden; for it is a beautiful sight-a
sweet child training the bright flowers.
Indeed, children are flowers themselves.
I will tell you of a sweet little gil, named
Florence, who had a little garden, in
which might be found the meet rare and
choice plants that could be'obtained.
And she was never happier than when
engaged in taking care of them.
But, alas sickness came, and Flor-
ence was a sufferer. Her greatest regret
seemed to be that she must neglect her
flowers; so her mother would look at
26 nOWUIB THAT NfVnR FADE.
them every day, and see that no weeds
grew up among them, and would water
them, and tell Florence each day about
them, and gather some of the sweetest
for her to smell of on her sick bed.
But at length Florence grew so sick
that she took no pleasure in looking at
her flowers, and could no longer talk of
She suffered for many long, tedious
days, and scarcely thought of her dear
mother, or her garden, or anything that
had once given her so much happiness.
Florence was very low. Her little play-
mates came daily to inquire for her, for
they all loved her, and could not believe
that the sweet one must die. After the
most careful attention, she seemed to
revive for a few days; but it was evi-
dent she could not long survive. One
day she begged her mother to carry her
to her garden. Her mother ferea he
effort weald be too much for her U
frame; hrt ise was o anxious to go
that they carefully wrapped her up, and,
placing her in an easy-chair, they oried
her pale Ad wasted form to her garden,
where she could gae once more pes
her idol powers. She looked at t a
few mome"d, then beckoned hba mRmter
to return to the house. When she cov-
ered from her fatigue, she said:
"I shall look upon my sweet flowers
no more, mother! But tend them for
me when I am gone, will you, and love
them for my sake ?"
"Yes, my sweet one! I will love
them and take are of them; but yea
may yet be able to watch them yor-
28 rLOwaB TEAT NwVER IADn .
No, mother !" said the patient dying
one; I am going to my other home,-
that happy place of which you have so
often told me, and of which my Sabbath-
teacher talks so much; and I hear angels
singing to me now, Come, sister, come
The mother wept; for now she knew
her precious child must die. She had
hoped she might recover; but now all
hope was gone, and Florence would soon
leave her to weep, broken-hewted and
0, do not weep, dear mother !" said
the dying one; "I am not sick now. I
am so happy! Carry me to the window,
that I may see the blue sky once more.
Mad 0 tell my little friends.to be good,
and think of me when I am with the
Her mother carried her in her arms
where she could look upon the green
trees and the blue sky, and feel the fresh
air, which seemed for a moment to revive
her. But soon she laid her head on her
mother's bosom, and whispering faintly
"Kiss me, dear mother! I go!" she
breathed her last so gently, so quietly, it
seemed but a soft, refreshing Ilmber.
And Florence is now an angel in
heaven. And when her little friends
think of her they pray that they may be as
good and affectionate as she was. They
have planted the sweet flowers she so
tenderly loved by her quiet grave; and
there they often repair to sing their little
hymns, and drop a tear to the memory
of the lovely Florence.
O, is it not a holy place,
Where the young and lovely meet,
To breathe the fervent, grateful prayer,
And bend at Jesus' feet !
Their songs of praise are warbled forth
In lisping notes of love;
On angels' wings the strains are borne
To the high throne above.
And those young hearts are blest indeed,
Blest with the Saviour's smile;
For innocent and pure they are,
Free from all sin and guile.
O, 't is a happy, happy sight,
That group of infants dear,
Thus early taught their God to love,
And wickedness to fear!
TH SU O AT-OcOOL.
The Saviour looks in kindces down
On mol a seee as this;
For in his holy Book he ys,
Of Meh my kingdom i."
NEVER TELL A LIE.
O, Nuv let a lie
Pan those sweet lips I pray!
Far better tell the truth,
Whatever you would my.
O, never tell a le!
You will not happy be;
For none will loe you then,
And poe yoa aanot mee.
0. never tell alie!
For it will make you bed;
To see a wicked child
Is very, Tery ad.
O, never tell a lie!
Remember this, my child;
But always speak the truth,
Be innocet and mild.
THE STINGY BOY.
GEOaRE NEWMM was a very stingy
little fellow, much to the sorrow of his
affectionate parents, who tried every
means to make their child overcome so
bad a habit. When reproved, little
George would feel very sorry, and prom-
ise to remember and do better next time.
But, when he got a nice orange, or a
piece of his mother's good pie, he would
be sure to run away alone, and eat it all
himself. One day Mr. Newman brought
home some beautiful great peaches, and,
handing them all to George, told him to
give each of his sisters two, and then he
would have two left for himself.
Mr. Newman gave George all the
84 nLOWaBB THAT NUVaR nAD.
peaches to try him, and see whether he
would do as directed, or be tempted,
again to do wrong. George stood for
some time gazing at the nice, rosy-
cheeked fruit; for, naughty boy that he
was, he did secretly wish he could have
them all. O, how selfish he was! His
father left him, and went into the next
room, to see what he would do. I am
sorry to tell you what he did; but I do
hope no boy or girl who reads this story
will ever do as badly. He finally per-
suaded himself that his sisters ought not
to have so many as he, because he was
the oldest. So he began to eat as though
he had never seen a peach before in his
life. He had eaten two, and then began
upon the third one, which, of course, did
not belong to him. This naughty boy
could not bear that his own dear sisters
THi mTIBNG BOT.
should have as many peaches au himself.
When Mr. Newman saw he had nearly
finished the third peach, he thought it
best to go into the room and reprove him
for his folly, and, if possible, to enforce
upon his mind the evil effects of such a
selfish disposition. 0, how glad would
George have been to escape from his
father's searching eye! But that was in
vain; and there he stood, trembling with
fear and shame, to think how foolish he
had been. But naughty children always
get found out. Mr. Newman called
George to his side, and commenced
talking to him, showing him the wicked-
ness of such a course, and the troubles
attending disobedience to parents. Poor
little George was sorry enough, and re-
solved once more that he would never be
mean again. He begged his father to
86 nOWSBB THAT NEBVBn ADB.
forgive him. This was readily done;
for Mr. Newman was a very kind, be-
nevolent man, who never wearied of
giving his children sound instruction,
and encouraging them in every good
Little George never forgot the peaches.
When he had anything which he could
share with his sisters or his little mates,
he never forgot to do it, and he finally
grew to be a generous man, loved and
respected by all who knew him.
Do unto others as you would
Other should do to you;
In this true happiness you'll find,
And pleasures ever new.
0, practice, then, thi Golden Bale,
The rule that God has given;
It will make you loved by one and all,
And guide your teps to heaven,
KIND Ellen tripped along the way,
Her little basket filled with food,
To feed the hungry, starring poor;
O, was not little Ellen good !
Each day the genbros, happy child,
With bounding step and merry heart,
Went with her messages of love,
Blesings and comfort to impart.
The poor all loved her, for she spoke
Such cheering words of hope to them,
And taught their children that to bless
Such little ones the Saviour came.
0, was she not a happy child,
So full of charity and love,
Dispensing joy to all around,
And leading minds to God above!
Dim vbi~ag the Pta withi Uukst~ r ood.
Be gneurou, ech child who rnds
Thi little tele of one so sir;
Remember, when the poor you meet,
The goodneof swt Elln Clae.
Ou Father, who in heaven art,
Thy holy name be hallowed here!
Thy kingdom come with peace and love,
Be to thy children ever near!
O, may thy will be done on earth,
By one and all, as 'tis in heaven!
And, a we would ibrgive our fes,
So still we pray to be forgiven.
0, give ua all our daily bread!
And grant s thankful hearts and pure,
And from temptation ave us, Lord,
From all that would our feet allure!
Let every creature bow to Thee!
Thine is the kingdom, thine the power!
Amen! Amen! each heart ruponds,
Be thine the glory evermore!
MoTaI, I don't want to go to school
any more!" said Julia Fay, with a sad
face, and eyes red with weeping.
"Why, my dear child, what troubles
you ? Do your lessons plague you, or
have you been a bad girl ?"
"No, mother, my lessons are not
hard, neither have I behaved badly; but
I don't want to go to school any more.
I don't like some of the scholars; and I
never want to see that ugly Emily Green
"Why, Julia! how vexed you are!
I am sorry to see you so angry. But
what has Emily done that is so very
44 LOWEBS THAT NEVER FADB.
"Done enough! Yesterday she
laughed at Harriette because she made a
mistake, and to-day she told me that her
father was richer than mine; and I don't
like her; she is an ugly girl!"
"Well, is that all?"
"No. She said my clothes were not*
so nice as hers, and that you did not look
so well as her mother; and I do not like
Now, Julia, I have much to say to
you; but you are so angry I fear it will
do no good. But, if you will endeavor
to overcome such bad feelings, and com-
pose yourself, I will talk with you."
"Well, mother, I would like to hear
you talk; but I shall never like Emily
Green again, I know."
"Perhaps not; still, there are worse
girls than Emily,--many worse dispo-
sitions, my child, than hers. Now, Ju-
lia, do you have enough to eat, enough
to wear ? Do you sleep comfortably,
and have good care taken of you when
you are sick ?"
"Certainly, mother; I never com-
"Are you satisfied, then, with your
"Yes, indeed, mother; no one has a
"Then you love your father and
mother, do you not ?"
"0, mother! you know I love you
"You appear to, Julia; and your
parents love you dearly. So they have
sent you to school, that you may acquire
a good education, and be ftted to fill an
honorable station in life. For all these
46 ILOWURS T2aT NNVER N&DU.
things you should be very grateful,-
should you not ?"
"I ought to be, mother, and do try
"I think you do, my child; but did
not Emily make you dissatisfied with us
both ? Would you not like to have a
richer father, and a handsomer mother,
and wear nicer clothes than you do
"No, no, mother! How silly I have
been to get so angry at such a trifle I"
"It was very foolish, Julia. But
Emily does wrong to talk so. If she has
more wealthy parents, and finer clothes
than another, she should not boast of
them, to make the other dissatisfied.
Now, I think you are happier in your
present comfortable home than you could
be in a situation like hers. Her mother
goes from home a great deal, and re-
ceives much company; so she cannot
devote much time to the care of hei
children, but leaves them with domes-
tics, who do not know how to instruct
them as a mother would, and, of course,
do not feel a mother's interest in them.
Emily has fine clothes, and goes often to
ride, and has plenty of rich food to eat;
but you know Emily is often sick, and
sometimes very sick. Then her mshkr
is not always with her, to watch over
and care for her. Her time is so-much
occupied with balls and parties, that, al-
though she loves her child, yet she cannot
devote the time to her that most mothers
deem necessary. Emily is a good-hearted
child, and has a pleasant disposition.
She has not been properly educated, and
is rather to be pitied than blamed."
48 FLOWERS THAT I VEB FAD
O, mother! I am sorry I have spoken
so badly of Emily! I would not give up
my comfortable home for one more splen-
did, where I could not have my mother
constantly with me."
"No; you would not be so well nor
so happy as you are now. And do you
think, Julia, that you shall remember
your numerous blessings when such a
thing happens again, or will you get per-
plexed and angry at a foolish saying?"
"No, mother; I think I shall treat
Emily better after this, and tell her what
a good home I have, if she says anything
"Be kind to her, my dear; and,
should you ever speak to her of your
home, say not a word of hers; but tell.
her you are satisfied and happy, if you
feel so. Riches do not constitute hap-
pines ; but a mind and a disposition to
enjoy what our Heavenly Father haf
blessed us with will make us good and
Lmna, pretty, laughing Kate,
Ever happy, ever gay;
Playing, singing cheerily
All the lie-long, merry day.
Little Kate is never cros,
Fretting, a some children are;
For she loves her parents dear,
And to pleae them takes great are.
If her darling brother orie,
Little Kate will please him well;
Book him gently in her arms,
And some pleasing story tell.
Then he leads him out to play,
Shows him pretty birds and owners,
And together, fll of joy,
They will pan the happy hours.
Children, would you happy be,
0, be gaetle, good and kind!
Th enyo will be loved by ll,
Pose ad happinso yaou11 nd.
HENRY AND HIS MOTHER
Hnyr, my child, come sit with me,
And we will talk of one
Who love you, and will ever be
Good to my little son.
0, ye, mmamm, I'd like to hear;
But, pray, who do you mean
It most be pa," for sister aid
He wa the bet she'd men.
I think so, to; he is so kind,
And loves s all so well;
And then he talks so good to you,
Better than I can tell.
Yes, my dear Henry, e 's a kind,
Indulgent, good ppa;
But still you have another friend,
Who loves you better far.
HENRY AND HI MOTNEL
Why, mother dear, I thought that you
Loved father well a me !
What can the reaon be you don't 1
I'm sure I omanot me.
My child, I do love him; but God
Claims deeper, stronger love;
And ever may my highest thoughts
Be placed on Him above.
Sis He protects my little son,
And gives him health and food;
O, love Him, then, my dearest boy!
Love God, for He i good.
Yes, mother; now I undertad;
I'll love my dear papa;
I '1l love you well, and sister too,
But love God better far.
"I NBVU saw such a silly, flirting,
proud girl as Augusta Smith is! She
holds up her head so high, and walks
through the streets so haughtily, you
would not think she could speak to com-
So thought, and so spoke, a very
pretty little girl, whom we will call
Now, Augusta Smith was not a proud
girl, and did not think herself too good
to speak to any one who behaved well.
She was the only daughter of a very
wealthy man, who died when his little
girl was only two years of age, leaving
her in the care of the best of mothers,
who, though she dressed Augusta well,
and gave her many beautiful things,
neglected not to instil into her mind the
true principles of charity. And no one
was more free-hearted, kind and benev-
olent, than Augusta Smith. She often
visited the poor; and many a dying
mother has blessed the kind-hearted
creature for the care she took of her des-
titute little ones. It seemed that Annie,
through some little misunderstanding,
had been led to believe that Augusta
was proud, and consequently shunned
her, while Augusta could see no reason
that Annie should treat her so coldly.
Such is often the case in young and old
society. We make up our minds of a
person's disposition without sufficient
thought and observation. Annie thought
that, because Augusta was always richly
65 FLOWERS THAT NEVER FADB.
dressed, she was proud, and did not care
for her, a poor little girl. And Annie
often wished she could have beautiful
clothes, and then she would not notice
Augusta. Now, was this right? We
Augusta had been one day to visit a
very sick child; and, after comforting
the little creature, and giving of her
store of nice articles of food she had car-
ried, she took her leave, and set out for
home. She sought a very retired walk,
shaded by beautiful trees, not far from a
lonely wood. She sat down to rest a
while; and, feeling happy in the con-
sciwmwnss of having done good, she be-
gan warbling a merry little song her dear
mother had taught her. When she
ceased singing, she thought she heard a
noise as of one in pain. She listened
for a moment, and again she heard it.
She started from her seat, and hastened
in the direction of the sound, and soon
found the place where lay a little girl,
crying bitterly, and seeming in great
pain. She raised her up, and found, to
her surprise, that it was Annie. Annie
told her she had eaten some berries in
the wood, which had made her sick.
Augusta said they must have been poi-
son, and asked her if she would let her
lead her home. Annie thanked her, and
said she would. So they slowly went
their way, which seemed a long walk,-
for Annie was sick, and could hardly
move along with Augusta's assistaee.
At last Annie's home was reached, when
her mother gave her medicine which soon
relieved her. When Augusta found she
was better, she said she must go; and
58 FLOWER THAT NEVER FADE.
Annie's mother thanked her many times
for her kindness, urging her to come and
see them again. Augusta went home
with a light heart, and dreamed sweetly
that night, for she had acted a good
part, and goodness always brings its
reward. The next morning she hurried
to Annie, to see how she had passed the
night. Poor Annie had thought much
of Augusta, and was sorry she had cher-
ished such unkind feelings towards her.
When Augusta entered the room, Annie
burst into tears.
"O, Augusta!" said she, "you are
too good towards one who has treated
you so unkindly. Forgive me for the
wrong I have done you, and I shall never
envy those who dress better than I do
again; but will look at their hearts, and
love them for their goodness!"
"I am glad, dear Annie," said Au-
gusta, that I have been able to show
you that I love you, and I freely forgive
you for the wrong feelings you have had;
and now let us be friends." And, kiss-.
ing each other many times, they resolved
that they would be friends; and they
afterwards spent many happy hours to-
gether, improving their minds and lear-
ing to do good.
TIMES TO WORSHIP GOD.
Wmrm Spring, in verdant beauty drest,
Awakes the gentle breeze,
And golden sunbeams softly rest
Upon the budding trees;
When Summer sends her eroer glow,
And wakens into birth
A myriad powers of every hue,
To bless the hinting earth;
When Autumn the rich harvest yields,
Man's faithful toil to crown,
And on the bleak and brren fields
The sun looks oddly down;
When Winter, writ is robe of enow,
Begins his dreary reign,
And from the hills the cold winds blow,
And sweep along the plain;
TIMS TO WOB80P GOD. 61
In every meuo, in al lUnd,
Wherever we may be,
O, Father! we are in thy hands,
And we will worship thee'
HYMN FOR CHILDREN.
Now in life's early dawn,
While hope is bright,
Ere our young hearts have known
Sad sorrow's blight;
Now in oar happy youth,
While free from are,
Seek we to know the truth,
Bend.we in prayer.
While joy's glad visions glide
As on life's restless tide
Softly we're borne;
When clouds and tempest dark
Ruffle the sea,
Safely direct our bark,
Father, to thee!
HYMN FOR CHILDBON.
Thou art our hope, and trust,
Thou art our stay;
We are but fleeting dust,
Things of a day;
Yet thou to us dost give
Henoetbrth with thee to live,
Thee to adore.
Ever may we remain
Holy and pare;
Ever the right maintain,
All wrong abjure;
May all our action prove
Grateful to thee;
Worthy of thy great love,
Lord, may we be!
HARRY AND HIS KITTY.
"FAT B, my Kitty's getting cross,
She'll scratch and she will bite;
I wish you'd send her off, I'm sure;
I do not think it right.
"She llm old and grumble every time
I go to give her food;
I don't see what does ail her now,
She used to be so good!"
"Well, Harry, this is very strange,
That Kitty should act so;
The other day you cried an hour,
And would not let her go;
"But now you want to send her off
Because she's ugly grown;
I feel inclined to think the fault
Lies not with puss alone.
HAuT AND HIS Krirr. 66
"Have you been kind to her, and fed
Her with good food each day;
And have you let her run about
To frolic and to play "
"Why, ye,- I've let her play u mmh
As ever I have done;
I only tied her tail up onoe1
To have a little fan!
"But dbe began to msratch and bite
And looked at me so mwa,
I had to stop ad let her go,
She did make such a t !"
"No wonder, Harry, that she did!
You most have given her pain;
Now, do not plague her any more
And she 11 be good again.
SPoor Kitty cannot speak and tell
You when she's hurt, you know;
If you are good to her, and kind,
She will not plague you o."
I mlmvw saw a more happy, quiet,
kind Miss, than Lizzie Roscoe. She
would never get cross and cry if other
little girls had prettier things than she
could get; neither would she go pouting
about the house if her mother wanted her
to leave her play and do a little work,
or go on an errand. If she heard her
mother's voice, she was always ready at
the call with "Well, mother, what do
you wish ?" If her mother replied, I
want my little girl to sit down and sew
a few minutes," Lizzie would have her
thimble and needle ready, and her little
chair placed beside her mother's, quick
as possible. And, could you see the
smile which played around that sweet
mouth, or the happy expression of those
large blue eyes, you would say that Lizzie
Roscoe was truly a good-natured child.
Then, when her task was done, and she
received that mother's kiss, she was more
than rewarded for all she had done.
Yes, she would willingly leave her play
for a whole day to feel so happy in de-
serving her mother's approving smile and
When children have once felt the hap-
piness of being good, it is strange they
will ever be bad again. All children
know that after they have done wrong
they feel dissatisfied and unhappy. I
doubt not but each boy and girl who has
done wrong, and felt the consequences
of that wrong, has resolved to do so no
more. But they forget, and get cross
68 PLOWENS THAT )FEVR FADB.
again, and sometimes, I am sorry to say,
tell falsehoods. But, if all children would
think, and determine to be good, I am
confident they would succeed. The next
time you get out of patience, and are
fretful, children, think of Lizzie Roscoe,
and you will pout no more. Try to be
like her, and you will be happier, and
make your parents happier.
Keep to an frm terptema .
"KEEP US ALL FROM TEMPTA-
Chares.-Mother, when father prayed
with us last night he said, Keep us all
from temptation." Will you tell me
what it means ?
Mother. Certainly, my dear. But
first tell me what you think it means.
Charles.-- I don't know, mother;
but I think it means that we may be
kept from doing any wicked action.
Mother.- You are right, my son;
and it should be our daily prayer that
we may be kept from sinful ways, and
walk in the footsteps of the good. If
my son should see wicked boys steel, or
72 riOW~ra THAT LIVIBn AD&.
hear them use bad words, he might be
induced by them to do the same things.
Then he would be led into temptation.
Or, if they should teach him to do any
wrong thing, such as telling a falsehood,
or speaking disrespectfully to people
older than himself, or treating his little
mates badly, they would lead him into
temptation. It is your father's and your
mother's daily prayer, my child, that
you may be kept from temptation, and
remain innocent and pure as an infant,
and then God will bless you.
Charles. Then, mother, shall I go
to heaven ?
Mother. -Yes, my dear Charles, if
you are good, and shun the ways of
wickedness, you will be happy here, and
when you come to die you will be borne
on angels' wings to that holy place, to
KnP VU ALL raOM TIPTATION. 78
dwell forever with Him who blessed little
children, and said, Of such is the king-
dom of heaven."
I waJ a happy child, *
And sweet has been my sleep;
For round my little bed
Angels their watch did keep.
0, bless my parent dear,
Kind Father, through this day!
May naught of ill be seen
In what they do or my!
I pray that I may keep
Thy love, my God, in view,-
Perform with cheerful heart
Whate'er I find to do.
And when the night has come,
Let me in peace prepare
To rest my weary head
Safe in Thy guardian care!
FATam! I thank Thee that the day
Ba paned in peace,
And that we f, f time to time,
Thy byoe imaa
If eaght Tho hat ee in me mim,
I pray forgive;
And in thy fear, O God d fLre,
Teach me to live!
O! let thine angel guards attend
My bed this night!
And let me wake in peace, to see
The morning light!
THna's beauty in the lonely wood,
And in the quiet vale;
There's beauty in the pansing loud,
Though darkly on it mail; -
There's beauty in the starry sky;
There's beauty in the sea,
When sunbeams on the waves flat by,
Proudly and gorgeously.
There's beauty in the velvet lawn,
In summer verdure drest;
There's beauty in the morning's dawn,
And quiet hour of rest;
There 's beauty that can rival these, -
A holy, meek, pure mind,
A spirit ever breathing peace,
In maccets gentle, mild.
There's beauty in the snow-olad hill,
When winter holds his sway;
There's beauty in the ie-bound rill,
Cheoked in its onward way;
There's beauty in the waving tree,
Swayed by the gentle brees,
When dew-drops, sparling brilliantly,
Adorn the bright green leaves;
Or when, arrayed in purest white,
In many a grotesque frm,
Its branches glitter in the light,
After the wintry storm.
There's beauty ever present
To those whose hearts are fe
From sin's debasng element,
The soue of misery.
A LITTLE STORY FOR A LITTLE
A UrrrL girl, fatigued with play,.
Sat on the ground, one summer-day,
Beneath a tall, green tree;-
Around her rng the buy hum
Of ineot flitting in the mn, -
The bitterly and bee.
The birds mag sweetly o'er her head,
The buy spider span his web
To atoh the oughtless fly;
The little ant toiled at her feet
To make a snug and safe retreat
When winter winds sweep by.
Bright flower bloomed around her thee,
The oft breeze gently waved her hair,
Anedaed her neMk and ee;
A LITru rarY oa1 A InWiLun iU 7
He little dog at by her ide,
And patiently his m eyed,
Wishing fr o more see,
But other thoughts flled Le's u id,
As, on the gransy bmuk reline
She gued upon the sky;
She thought of God, whose tender am
And guardian love are everywhere;
Whose everesent ey
Is on u whereoe'er we go;
Who knows our thoughts, ses all we do,
And he each word we my.
His power reted bird and be,
Painted the lowers and formed the tres,
And made both night ad day.
She thought of all her mother id,
Of all she in her Bible read,
About our gracious God;
And then, beneath those skies so fhir,
She breathed to Him a simple prayr,
*That He would make her good;
80 ILOWUS THAT NIVUn FAD.
That He would make her always kind.
Give her a pan and holy mind,
Prom pride and pdoan fee;
From eril words and sagry trife,
And all wrong note pnwre her life
That she might happy be.
- lAlflA mw
MY LITTLE BROTHEL
How well I loe the little ro.ge!
jlo ok at him, dear mother;
J me him laughing at ma now,
My darling little brother! I
I do believe my heart would bak
If I hold leave hi eer;
He is wo good, and coming too,
I e part with him mear.
I pray that God will spre hi li,
And thine, too, dart mothw;
And then how happy I hall be
With you ad little brother!
HOW TO BE HAPPY.
EMMA BLAKE was a sweet-tempered,
gentle little girl, who had seen si happy
summers. Her companions all loved her
because she was always willing to oblige
them, and contribute all in her power to
their pleasure. Emma had a kind father
and mother to give her all she wanted,
and they lived in a pretty house with a
pretty garden filled with roses and many
other beautiful flowers. Among her
schoolmates was a little girl named Liz-
zie Warren. Her father died when she
was very young, and her mother was
poor, and lived in a small house, that was
very old, but always neat and clean.
Lizzie was up with the sn in the morn-
HOW TO Bn .
ing, working in the little garden, or
sweeping the path before the door, and
then she would help her mother till
school-time. She was always cheerful
and ontated, and never fretted because
she oMld not have things nice and
pretty as the other girls; for her mother
often told her that God looks only at the
heart, and that she could be as good and
happy in a worn and faded dress as i
the most costly silk. And when some
of the thoughtless children laughed at
her clothes, because they were old, Emma
Blake would tell them it was wrong to
laugh at Lizzie, because her mother could
not buy her as many clothes as they had;
and then she would put her arm around
Lizsie's waist and walk home with her,
cheering her with words of kindness.
One beautiful day in summer, Mm.
86 nowns 2v THAT NUVl irADz
Blake gave Emma permission to invite
her young friends to spend the afternoon
with her. Most of the little girls wore
dresses of white muslin; but Lizzie
looked very pretty in a dress of pink
calico; and she iA so good-natured
and obliging, the girls were sorry they
had ever laughed at her. She gathered
flowers from the garden, and twined
them with leaves of myrtle and sweet-
briar in pretty wreaths for their hair, and
taught them to weave garlands of leaves
with which to ornament their dresses.
Never was there a more happy party
thad that assembled at Emma's house
that day. Dolls, books and playthings,
afforded amusement enough till tea-time;
after which some one proposed a walk, to
which all agreed. There was a pleasant
lane leading from Emma's house to a
HOW TO BB HAPPT.
beautiful grove, and there they decided
to go. As they sat resting themselves
in the oool shade beneath the trees, lis-
tening to the sweet singing of the birds,
they felt as if they could never speak an
unkind word again, or do a wrong action;
and they began to speak of what was in
"My mother tells me," said Liizie
Warren, "that we ought always to be
thankful to our kind Father in Heaven,
who made this beautiful world, and has
given us so many blessings; and I'm
sure we ought to thank Him that He
has permitted us to be so happy as we
have been to-day."
"So my mother says," said Mary
Eustis; but I did not think she meant
for such things as you seem to be thank-
ful for. I like beautiful presents and
88 I%0wwns THAT NUVI IPADU.
nice dresses, a great deal better than
trees and grass."
And so did I till this moment," said
Ellen Gray; but they never looked so
beautiful to me before."
"Mother says, if we are good and
happy, things will appear to us much
prettier than when we are discontented
and in ill-humor," replied Liszie.
"Well, then, it's because we've been
good, that we feel so happy now," aid
Martha Welby, "for I don't think one
of us has spoken a cross word or done an
ukind action this afternoon; and I re-
member the other day I had been very
w eos to my little brother, and I would
not take him to walk with me, but went
alone; and, though it was as pleasant
then as it is now, and the birds were
singing all around me, I was not hap-
lOW TO Bl A lu 89
py, and I wished I had not gone to
"Let us try, then," said Ellen, to
be always good and pleasant to each
other, and to our brothers and sisters."
They would have talked much longer,
but Emma reminded them that it was
time to return; and, as it was nearly
dark, they bade each other good-night,
and took different paths to their homes.
They did a6t soon forget the lessons
they had learned as they sat in that
pleasant grove, but each remembered
her promise to try to do better; ad,
though it was rather hard at first, with
each other's help they at last suc-
ceeded, and their meetings were ever
AN INVITATION TO THE COUNTRY.
HAm thee, achoolmates, hate away,
Where the breae softly play;
Where, from waving bough, is heard
moIet murmur, song of bird;
Haste, and seek the pleasant grove,
There at will we're free to rove.
No demure 1d stately paoe
Are our feet required to trae,
Bat, like squirrel, bird and bee,
All our motion shall be free;
Come, then, shoolmates quickly haste,
Liberty and joy to taste.
While upon the smny hill,
Lie the drowsy battle still;
A ~nmATIO T THm OOoTRY. 91
While the noontide'm piercing heat
Bids u to ool ads retreat,
We will sp d our mnple board
With the lod which love ham ored.
Then, as low deeands the san,
And the night oo esteAling oa,
Homeward hall our bottepi ed,
While our huer in praise sesd
Pqr the good that thou bt gieno,
"Thou, who rulet euth and heave."
CHILD TO A SQUIBREL.
SQUMa L O the leafy bough,
Happy, happy thig aut thou I
Gayly ohirp thy meomg "ae
As thmN iUdut iA fd"g.
Sporting mbly by the brook,
Peeping fom some hidden nook,
Now away with sudden bound,
Where an thing more free be found
Pretty one, 0 tell me why
Thou art ever thus so shy;
Why so soon away dost flee,
If I do but look on thee
Fear'st thou that I'd do thee harm -
There's no cae for such alarm;
I could not m oruel be
As to injure one like thee.
CHILD TO A AQmInL.
No I love to e thee play,
Through the plea mt ummerdax.
Pretty squirrel, 4b I fear,.;
I will not appaee twaMr.
As I mee thee glandng by,
Paying life o merrily,
Oft I wish that I, oo, might
Boam the wood f&r marn till aige
But my life-time wa not lent
Thus to be all idly spent;
I my not pms all my hbo
Sporting 'mid the tees d lowe. d
No,-for Hewhoploed thee hr
Has for me another sphere,
In which, as I daily move,
I must well my time improve.
A PLEASANT DAY.
IT was a fine morning in the early
part of August; the sun shone brightly,
and gave promise of a pleasant day,
when Eliza Seymour entered the house
of her friend, Annie Marvin, in breath-
lees haste, her eyes bright with pleasure,
and cheeks flushed with hope. On see-
ing Annie she gayly exclaimed,
O, Annie! we are going to sail, an
we want you to go with us. Father says
we may invite all the girls."
Annie soon obtained the consent of
her parents, and was quickly on her way
to join her young companions.-
'Twas with joyous hearts they looked
down in the clear depths of the waters,
A PLEASANT DAT.
and watched the varying colors'of the
waves as they glanced in the sunlight,
and they laughed gayly as the dancing
spray dashed up in their faces.
Swiftly and gently the breeze bore
them on; and it was almost with regret
that they saw the pebbled shore where
they were to land. Here new pleas-
ures awaited them. The beach was cov-
ered with pretty stones and shells, with
which they filled their pockets, and then
strolled off in various directions; some
lh search of berries, of which they found
an abundance; some picking up the un-
ripe apples, too sour to be eaten; others
gathering bouquets of the sweet wild
roses and other flowers that grew around
Harriette Barstow had the good for-
tune to find one rich scarlet flower
96 FLOWUS THAT NUVIB FADE.
which grew high up among some rocks.
This caused some envy among the other
girls. But the warm sun soon withered
the flower, as indeed it did all the others,
and they were thrown carelessly away.
Some few accidents occurred, one of
which caused much merriment mingled
Poor Sarah Curtis, when going on
dsore, lost her footing, and stepped into
the water; so she had to go back to the
boat and wait till her shoes and stook-
ings could be dried. Kate Seymour
was stung by a wasp, andli sprained
her foot. These, however, were all rem-
edied, and the ausements of the day
paned happily on. Bonnets and para-
sols were found to be useless in the thick
woods, and were soon thrown aside.
One group of girls, who had wandered
A H5MhM DAT.
away from the others, discovered a sir.
oular bower, formed of trees ad wild
grape-vines, and carpeted with soft green
mon. They trained some of the tea-
drils of the vines over a moes-covere
rock, and, choosing Kate Seymour ibr
their queen, placed a wreath of leavm
upon her head, and heated her on the
rook, which they called her throne. Her
first act of royalty was to order a feat for
her subjects; and they spread befr
her the remainder of some cakes they
had brought with them, and some ber-
rie. They had scee partaken of their
merry repast, when they heard the voices
of their companions calling to them to
get ready for their return home. They
reluctantly left their pleasant bower,
gathered up the things they were to
take with them, and walked hastily to-
98 n OWra A THAT NIVIa 'AD.
wards the boat. On their way they saw
the flowers, they had so eagerly gathered
in the morning, lying withered on the
ground, while those they left untouched,
bloomed as beautiful as before.
'The sun was just setting as they set
sail for home, and they gazed with de-
light on the rich clouds of gold and pur-
ple as they spread over the sky and then
faded away, and the stars beamed faintly
from the soft, blue heavens, till the dark-
ness grew deeper, and then the bright
moon came forth and sparkled on the
waters. Then were their hearts filled
with a deep and quiet happiness, which
dwelt with them after they reached their
homes, and they dreamed over again,
that night, the pleasures of the day.
THE SEASONS' OFFERING TO
WHMaC oomeBt thou, 0, bright, joyous Spring
What welcome oiering to earth dost thou bring
Glad i thy mile to the children of men;
Beauty is beaming where thy step hath been.
I bome from the realms of the fair, sunny South,
And bring theoce the freehem ad erdure of youth;
Violts bloom 'id the green, waving gras,
Sweet blkaoom greet me wherever I pa.
Radiant Summer, blooming and f&ir,
Hast thou a tribute precious or rare I
Lightly thy footatep boundeth along,
Softly thy voice on sephye is borne.
Bright flower I bring thee of every hue,
Breathing forth fragrance and glittering with dew,