A .L C
WHAT ITTLE HANDS CAN DO.
WHAT LITTLE HANDS CAN DO.
" At this moment his two cousins, Ellen and Annie, came into
the room; they looked bright, happy little girls."--age a.
WHAT LITTLE HANDS
'he dhiqduqn of geAchgrouq.
A BOOK OF INTEREST
FOR SUNDAY AND WEEK DAY READING.
BY MRS. M. C. OWEN.
"Oh what can little hands do
To please the King of Heaven ?
The little hands some work may try,
To help the poor in misery-
Such grace to mine be given "
JARROLD AND SONS,,3, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS.
The Story of Mephibosheth, and how he be-
came Lame on both his Feet 7
The Story of Mephibosheth-continued 16
The Story of Mephibosheth-coniinued 20
Interesting Conversation 24
The Story of Gehazi; his first Wicked
Thought, and its Consequences 32
The Story of Gehazi-continued 36
An Errand of Mercy 41
A Disappointment 46
The Pleasures of Industry 5
The Children's Dorcas Meeting 59
Preparation, and its Pleasures 64
The Story of Jonathan, and how he loved
David and saved his Life 69
The Story of Jonathan-continued 73
The Story of Jonathan-continued 78
Preparing for the Treat 82
The School Treat 86
The School Treat-continued 91
The Lost Child
Different Kinds of Pleasure 105
The Story of Naaman, and how his Leprosy
was Cured 109
Obedience to God; or the Four Captive Boys 123
Obedience to God; or the Four Captive
The Burning Fiery Furnace, into which the
three Young Men were Cast and were
not Burnt 137
The Lions' Den, or Daniel's Trust in God 143
The Happy Blind Woman 150
The Minute Bag. Visit to Old Sarah 156
Matt, the Idiot Boy 64
Improvement and Plan of Usefulness 171
Conversation and Arrangements 175
The Story of a Disobedient Prophet who was
Killed by a Lion 179
The Story of the Disobedient Prophet-con-
The Story of the Disobedient Prophet-con-
The other Disobedient Prophet-(yonah)
who was Swallowed by a Fish 195
The Story of Esther, the Beautiful Queen,
who saved all the Jews from being
The Story of Esther-continued 213
The Story of Esther-continued 220
The Story of Esther-continued 227
The Ragged Ambassadors, and how they
deceived the Israelites 232
WHAT LITTLE JANDS CAN PO
Sh apter Ajirst.
7! NOTHER wet Sunday how very tiresome;"
exclaimed a little boy about nine years old,
who stood looking out of a window, watching the
Spassers-by, during a steady and heavy rain. -"We
have had so many lately, and I never know what to
.i:.. ..: must not play, and we cannot read all day
I.. At this moment Herbert Wilmot, hearing a
I"..I r .:., turned round and met the eyes of his aunt
AII... .i, with whom he had just arrived to spend a
i,...nl, in the summer time.
\lI,at is the matter, my dear boy?" asked his
uinr. ,:eing his sorrowful face. "Are you grieving
t>,.-n:,: we cannot go out this morning?
Whatr Little 1uands can do.
"Yes, aunty. Is it not very tiresome, my first
Sunday at Beechgrove, and to have to stay in all
"Well, my dear Herbert," replied his aunt, laying
her hand kindly on his shoulder, "I will not say it
is tiresome, for I do not like to speak of the arrange-
ments of God in that way; but I agree with you, it
is very disappointing that the first Sunday morning
in the country should be so wet; but we will not,
therefore, make up our minds to a wet day: at this
season we often have very heavy rain followed
quickly by bright sunshine, and we may have a very
fine afternoon and evening. You know I promised
your dear mamma, when I asked her to allow you
to visit me, to take great care of your health; and
as the doctor has forbidden you to go out when at
all damp, I must im', ..lIIoy keep you a prisoner
this morning as well as your cousins; but I intend
to remain at home with you myself, and I hope we
shall find means to pass a very happy and profitable
Herbert's face, which had been very gloomy,
brightened up a little on hearing his aunt intended
herself remaining at home, for he was very fond of
Mrs. Howard, and never found time hang heavily
when in her company.
At this moment his two cousins, Ellen and Annie,
came into the room; they looked bright, happy
little girls, of about ten and eleven years of age.
'1They seemed surprised that their mamma thought it
needful to remain at home herself, because they
knew she very rarely did so on account of weather;
but as she only told them her intention, without
giving her reasons, they were quite satisfied to hear
the good news, and at once asked what they should
do. Will you tell us a new Bible story, mamma ?"
Said Ellen; "I do so like your stories."
"I don't want to hear Bible stories," interrupted
Herbert. "I know them all, and am quite tired of
"Oh, Herbert! surely you don't know all
mamma's stories," exclaimed Annie; "for you are
younger than we are, and we do not know all; and
there's always something new to talk about when
she tells them. It is so nice, I am sure you will like
"I'm sure I shan't, then; for I know them
already," persisted Herbert, who still looked very
cross and uncomfortable.
"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Howard, "we will
not dispute the matter, because we do not know
what Herbert knows, and he has not yet heard any
of our stories, so I do not think he can quite tell
how he will like them till he has tried;" she added,
smiling, and drawing her little nephew to her
side. "So run now and fetch your Bibles, and
come and sit down, and when we have done our
reading, Herbert shall tell us how he likes our story."
What Little Hiands can do.
Mrs. Howard knew that Herbert had been what
we call a spoiled child at home, and she felt very
sorry for him; and while she hoped to see some
improvement in him before he returned to town,
she did not intend needlessly to cross his wishes, as
she knew habits are stubborn things and cannot be
very quickly cured; but she hoped, with God's
blessing, he might himself see how unlovely over-
indulgence had made him, and also how much his
own pleasures were spoilt by always wishing to have
his own way, and never being willing to consider the
wishes of others. He was an only child, and had
delicate health; and his every wish and desire had
been considered by loving parents and a fond
nurse, until the poor little boy seemed to suppose
the world was made for him alone. You may easily
understand that he was not a favourite among his
pli i/l.: ; and his little cousins, though kind
and affectionate children in general, were not par-
ticularly charmed when their mamma announced to
them that Herbert was to become their guest for a
month. Their fears that he would be always
making himself disagreeable,' seemed likely to
prove true, when the first Sunday they heard him
oppose their mother's Bible stories. However,
they remembered the hints their mamma had given
them about their behaviour to him, and they ran off
to fetch their books, hoping he would soon find
out his mistake. They then returned to the dining
The Lame Boy.
room, and took their seats by their mamma;
Herbert, as the youngest and the visitor, having the
post of honour by her side.
"Well, my dear Herbert," said Mrs. Howard,
"suppose you tell us what stories from the Bible
you know, and then I shall be able to select one
that will be quite new to you."
"Oh, I think I know them all," repeated Herbert.
About iVoah, and Abraham, and Moses, and David,
and all of them."
Well, you have heard some very pretty ones if
you have heard about all you have mentioned. But
there are many more; and perhaps you have not
heard all the stories about each of the persons you
have named. Tell me, now, if you remember a sIory
about a lame boy, to whom David was very kind ?"
Herbert thought for a moment, and then was
obliged to own he did not remember that story; the
little girls declared they had not heard it either,
though their mamma said she thought they must
have poor memories, as she believed she had- told it
to them. However," said she, "it will be quite
new to you also, so we will read it."
"What was the name of the little boy, mamma ?"
asked Annie; "and how did he become lame ? "
"Stop, my dear child; you are in too great a
hurry. The little boy's name was a very long one,
and perhaps you will think it rather a hard one, it is
What Little Hands can dio.
The children looked at each other as if they had
never heard such a strange name, and wondered how
a pretty story could belong to it. They then looked
at their mamma, who said, "If you open your
Bibles at the 4th chapter of the Second Book of
Samuel, and the 4th verse, \ve shall find the story
She then read as follows--
S..- r-.- >
THE STORY OF MEPHIBOSHETH.
N 1D Jonathan, Saul's son, had a son that
is lame of his feet. He was five years
old when the tidings came of Saul and Jonathan
out of Jezreel, and his nurse took him- up and
fled. And it came to pass as she made haste
to flee, that he fell, and became lame, and
his name was Mephibosheth."
She then continued-'' You will all remember,
Saul was the first king of Israel, but he did
not honour and serve God; and God sent
Samuel the prophet to tell him that he had
rejected him from being king, and had chosen
Him a man after His own heart to be king.
This was David. And though he did not become
king then, or attempt to do so, yet Saul was jealous
of him from the time he knew he was one day
to be king; and he persecuted and tried to kill
tWhat Little Hands can do.
David, but Jonathan, Saul's son, loved David very
much indeed, and tried to protect him from his
father's anger. But when he found he could no
longer preserve David from Saul's jealousy, he sent
him away. But before they parted they went out
into a field together; and David made a promise
that he would not forget Jonathan, but would be
kind to him when he became king, and also would
shew kindness to Jonathan's children after he was
dead. For a long time after this, Saul tried to hurt
and injure David whenever he could; but at last,
Saul and Jonathan were both killed in a battle with
the Philistines; who, you will remember, were the
great enemies of the Israelites
"Well, when the news came that Saul and
his three sons had all been killed, I suppose
their friends expected the Philistines might come
and take their houses and lands, and perhaps
kill the children they had left at home, so the
nurse that took care of Jonathan's little boy,
icephibosheth, took him up in her arms and
ran away to hide him somewhere safely. We
are not told where she took him, but no doubt it
was the best place she could think of in her fright;
and as she was running to hide him, she fell with
the poor little Mephibosheth, and so hurt him that
he became lame. Perhaps she was afraid to let any
one know where he was hidden who might have
done him good, or perhaps nothing could be done
for the poor child; which it was we do not know,
but this we know, that he was lame all his life.
What a sad trial it was for him, and what a sorrow
for his poor nurse, when she saw him unable to run
about like other children, to remember the accident
that made him so. However, sometimes our
greatest trials turn out to be our greatest blessings,
and we shall find that it was so with Mephibosheth.
Many years after Saul and Jonathan were killed,
when David was settled as king, he often thought of
all he had suffered from Saul, and how wonderfully
God had delivered him and taken care of him when
Saul wanted to kill him; and one day he said, 'Is
there any one left of the house of Saul, that I may
shew him kindness for. Jonathan's sake?' David,
you see, did not forget his dear friend Jonathan;
and he did not forget that he had promised to shew
kindness to his children after his death. This was
very right of David; and now that God had made
him king, he asked his servants whether there was
any one left of the house of Saul to whom he
might shew kindness for Jonathan's sake.
"Now David's servants knew a servant of Saul's,
named Ziba; so they brought him to David, and the
king asked him if there was any one of ....' family
to whom he might shew the kindness of God.' Mark
these words, dear children; the king wished to shew
the kindness of God to some one belonging to his
cruel enemy Saul! This was much more than
What Little Hands can do.
doing it for Jonathan's sake; /ie had been his
dear and kind friend, and it is always a pleasure
to serve the friends or the children of those
we love; but David did not ask for any of
Jonat/an's family alone, but any of the house of
Saul, that he might shew the 'kindness of God'
He might well call it the 'kindness of God,'
for only God can teach us to love and be kind
to our enemies, and to those who have been unkind
to us. You know our own wicked hearts always
lead us to return evil for evil, and to be unkind to
those who are unkind to us. The Lord Jesus was
the only one who was always kind to His enemies,
and never returned evil for evil. You know when
the wicked people beat Him, and spat upon Him,
and smote Him upon the cheek, He bore it all like
a lamb, and prayed for His wicked murderers.
People who love Jesus try to follow His blessed
example, and to love those who hate them; and so
you see David did, though he had not the beautiful
history of the Lord Jesus to read as we have,
because he lived long before the Lord was born.
Still he loved God, and was taught by God's Holy
Spirit to love his enemies; and so instead of wish-
ing to kill every one that remained in his kingdom
belonging to Saul, he asked whether there was not
some one left of his family to whom he might shew
what? 'The kindness of God.' You see he did not
wait until lhefound some one, but he thought about
it, and asked about it, which shewed his heart was
occupied with kind and loving thoughts.
"Now we shall see what Ziba tells him. 'And Ziba
said unto the king, Jonathan hath yet a son which
is lame on his feet.' How pleased David must have
felt to find the only one left of Saul's house, who he
hears of, is the son of his dearly-loved Jonathan.
He asked Ziba where he was, and desired him to go
and fetch him at once.
"Poor Mephibosheth! How astonished and
frightened he must have been when he heard
that David wanted to see him! Perhaps Ziba
told him the king wanted to shew him kind-
ness, but he came to the king and bowed down
before him. And what were the first kind words
David said to him? Fear not!' David remem-
bered Mephibosheth would be likely to be very
much afraid when he sent for him, because he
knew he was the grandson of the wicked Saul,
who had treated David so cruelly, and that there-
fore he had no right to expect any kindness from
David himself; but how delighted and surprised he
must have been when he heard the rest of what
David said to him. After telling him not to be
afraid he said, 'I will surely shew thee kindness for
Jonathan thy father's sake, and will give thee back
all the land of Saul thy grandfather, and thou shalt
eat bread at my table continually.'
I: Little Hands can do.
Was not this great love in David, dear children ?
not only to make Mephibosheth a rich man,
but to tell him he should eat bread at the king's
table 1III ...1I, This was the greatest honour he
could give him it was treating him like his own
L I, \\I i .I 1,1il i. li l 1.il, say to such great and
v.. .'.6 .l kindness? He bowed down before the
and said, 'What is thy servant, that thou
shouldst look upon such a dead dog as I am?' You
ee : 1;l i1, was not 'rvIud; he speaks of
a as ,a' '* Now .'. ; .i use is a de.d
dog ? of wr use at all A "- dog may be of
use to its master, '..- a ad .. _. can be of no,
se to ay one, and is also a very ,_'- and
able i ; i to look at. Poor I- 1. i- meant
to say he kneL he had no 'i to expect .:. to
look upon hmnb,e because e belonged to the house of
i. : and he also knew he never could be of any
aue to, David.. "- wasi b n Iecause he as -'W .
yp ou dear ', God us, He: tat
,exls ... (or sets himself up,) shar be abased
a dow), but he tliat hzmnfeth hims ef
i be 'exalted,'
"' 1 wais need himnae nAhez
he i f i as edf a, 4 1 eg n vnd Da1id
tsed iim to the highest pstrin hle '1 giEe
hlm, tw eat ieadp at Nis w tble I
l o-j we r tiea, but Am g p yuni mow
a' at the King's Table.
it is a very great honour if a person is invited
to h. I. with the Queen once in his life, and very
few people have the honour; but what would any
one think of Iii,1.- at the Queen's table always
who did not'", >1..-, to her family? This was what
David said MI..-i.,iii... i. 1,l should do. i ii the
king called to I.d. Saul's servant, and said unto
him, I have given unto thy master's son all that be-
longed to thy master Saul and to all his house; thou,
therefore, and thy sons and thy servants, shall till
the i..,ii.1 for him. Now Zibahad ii ... 1, sons and
twenty servants.' And Ziba promised king David
that he would do as he wished, and see after all the
land that. the king had given to Mephibosheth.
And then before Ziba left the king he again said,
' As for Mephibosheth, he shall eat at my table as
one of the king's sons.'
i' ,dear children, just let us count how many
times the king speaks of this to Ziba; three times
over he mentions it! Perhaps David wished
Mephibosheth to see the pleasure it gave him to
promote him to this honour for his dear father's
sake. 'So Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, and
did eat bread at the king's table continually, and
was lame on both his feet.'
"We may think how happy Mephibosheth now
was, being so loved and honoured by David;
and how often he would think and speak with
him of his dear father Jonathan. No doubt
TW at Little Hands can do.
David told him how Jonathan took off his ow,
dress, and gave it to him, with his girdle and hil
bow. Perhaps David may have had some of these
things with him through all his wanderings, and may
have shewn them to Mephibosheth: he may have
told him also the curious plan that Jonathan
hit upon to let him know that Saul had deter-
mined to kill him, and how he managed it; he
may also have told him that once, when he was
hiding in a wood from Saul, and was feeling very
sad and very unhappy, and was almost ready to
think he never should be king, but was afraid Saul
would one day kill him; that when he was in this sad
state, Jonathan came and found him in the wood, 'and
strengthened his hands in God.' i Sam. xxiii. 16.
This meant, that Jonathan tried to cheer, and encour-
age, and comfort David, by reminding him of God's
promise that he should be king, and also reminding
him that everything that God said should happen,
must happen. And you may suppose how happy
Mephibosheth must have been to hear the king
speak of his father in this way.
"David perhaps also told Mephibosheth how
once Jonathan nearly lost his life for eating a little
honey, when his father had made a law that no one
should eat anything that day; and he may also have
told him of another occasion, when Jonathan and
his servant gained a great victory over their enemies
while Saul and his soldiers were waiting for the
battle to begin; and how no one knew who had
beaten the Philistines till they counted the soldiers,
and found Jonathan and his servant were absent.
These and many more stories we may suppose
David had delight in telling the child of his beloved
friend, as he daily took his meals with him. And
we shall now see how Mephibosheth returned
David's love, and how tenderly attached he became
to him, though he could not serve him as others dic
on account of his lameness."
6hnipfi'i ihird. .
L'HE STORY OF MEPHIBOSHETH-cont/itued.
..l LONG time after David had'taken Mephibo-
Ssheth to his table, a sad trial fell upon the
king. He had a son named Absalom; he was a
very fine, handsome young man, and a great favou-
rite with the people; but I am sorry to say he was
not a good son to his father. He had given him a
great deal of trouble' and sorrow, and at last he
tried to take the kingdom from him, and made the
people think they were not properly cared for by the
king, and that if he were king he would take more
care of them. Then he told his father a lie, and
said he was leaving home to do something for the
Lord; but he went away, and some wicked people
followed him and made him king instead of David.
The .Rebi lious Son.
This is what we call a rebellion. It is a very
dreadful thing in a country, because it causes much
war and shedding of blood: but oh, how much
worse when a son rises in rebellion against his own
father We may be sure God's judgment will come
upon a rebellious son, for He has commanded
children to honour their father and mother. (Eph.
"When David heard that Absalom called himself
king, he told his servants they must run away with
him from Absalom. I suppose David did not want
to go to war with his son, for he loved him very
much though he was acting so wickedly. So poor
David, and some friends and servants,, all left their
own comfortable homes and beautiful city of Jerusa-
lem, and passed over the brook Kedron, and went
up a mountain. Many of the people who lived in that
neighbourhood were very sorry, and cried very
bitterly when they saw their dear king driven away
from his home by his wicked undutiful son. David
must have felt as unhappy as he did when he
was hiding from Saul in the woods and mountains,
or even more so, because he must have known that
all his troubles were caused by his wicked son.
He had now no home and no food, and no clothes
but what people gave him, and the little they had
taken with them when they left home.
As David was going up a mountain, who do you
think he met? Why, he met Ziba, the servant of
T'hat Little Hands can do.
Mephibosheth, who had with him two asses saddled,
and upon them two hundred loaves of bread,
and one hundred bunches of raisins, and a hundred
of summer fruits, and a bottle of wine.' And the
king asked Ziba what all these nice things were for;
and Ziba said to the king, the asses were for some
of his servants to ride upon, and the wine and food
were for those who were faint and hungry on their
journey. Do you think David thought of any one
else when he saw Ziba, or did he only think of the
present he brought to him? Oh, yes; David
thought of Mephibosheth; and he asked Ziba,
'Where is thy master's son?' And what did Ziba
tell him? He said, 'He is staying behind at
Jerusalem instead of coming with you, because he
thinks now he shall be able to get the kingdom for
"What! I'.' : try to take away the king-
dom from David, who had been so very kind to
him Oh, surely this could not be true. Well, we
must wait a little and see. Ziba told David so, and
David believed him, and was so grieved and pained
to think that Mephibosheth could have acted so
ungratefully and wickedly, that he said to Ziba,
"You may have everything that I gave to
My little readers must understand that in olden times wine
bottles were made of large skins, holding much more than our
glass bottles now do ; so Ziba only took one bottle of wine,
though he had so much bread and fruit.
Death of Absalom.
Mephibosheth!' Was Ziba to have all the land
that had belonged to king Saul? Yes, every-
thing, David said, because he thought Ziba had
shewn great kindness and love in coming after him
with these provisions instead of staying behind to
help Mephibosheth to take the kingdom for himself.
"Poor David; how very sad he must have felt
to -think, that not only his own son Absalom was
fighting against him, but that now Mephibosheth,
whom he had treated like a son, should also be in
rebellion against him. David wrote some psalms
which shew us how very unhappy he was at this
For some time after this, David had to flee from
his wicked son, Absalom; but at last his servants
went to battle with Absalom and his men, and God
allowed this wicked son to be killed. You re-
member, I dare say, how it happened? He was
caught by his fine long hair as he was riding under
an oak, and his mule ran away; and Joab, David's
general, saw him hanging there, and killed him.
Poor king David was in very great sorrow when he
heard that his wicked son was dead; he wept
bitterly for him, and wished he had died instead of
Absalom. It is a dreadful thing to think of a son
being cut off while in rebellion against his father."
(2 Sam. xviii. 33.)
c, '< i r ( .2U )
THE STORY OF MEPHIBOSHETH-COnltinUed.
IHEN Absalom was dead, the people at
Jerusalem wished very much that David
would come back and take the kingdom again. So
he returned, with all his friends and servants, to
Jerusalem. Several people shewed their pleasure
in David's return by going to meet him; who do
you think was one of the persons who did so?
Why, Mephibosketh! As soon as he heard David
was coming home, he went to meet him. But oh !
he looked such an untidy figure; not at all fit to go
to see a king, for he had neither dressed his feet
nor trimmed his beard, nor washed his clothes,
since David went away. Why was this? It was
on account of his great grief and sorrow at losing
David. It proved, that now David was gone, he did
The Untruthful Servant. 21
not care for comfort or neatness, or anything else.
When the king saw him coming, looking this strange
figure, he said to him, 'Why did you not go with
me, Mephibosheth ?'"
"And what did Mephibosheth say, do you think-
that he wanted the kingdom, as Ziba had said?
Oh, no he told a very different story. He said to
David, 'My lord, oh king, my servant deceived me;
for I said, I will saddle an ass, and ride on it to go
to the king, because I am lame; but he has told
you untrue and wicked things about me, but I am.
sure the king will understand the matter rightly, and'
will do what is right, for all my father's house were
but dead men before my lord the king, yet thou
didst set me among those that eat at thine own
table; what right, therefore, have I to cry any more
unto the king?'"
'You see, poor Mephibosheth was still humble,
and had not been spoilt and made proud by all
David's kindness to him; he still felt he had not
any claim upon it. And though he must have been
very much pained that David should have heard
such false things about him, he was quite satisfied
that the king should settle about his property just as
he liked. I think David must have felt very much
vexed with himself for believing Ziba's story so
quickly; he had been hasty in giving him his
master's property. And now he found out his
mistake, he said to Mephibosheth, 'Why speakest
thou any more of thy matters? I have said, thou
and Ziba divide the land.'"
"David did not like to hear any more about this
matter; he felt he had been deceived, and that he had
done poor Mephibosheth a great injustice in doubting
his faithful love to himself. And I dare say, dear
children, you all know how very uncomfortable you
feel towards any one when you know you have been
unjust or unkind to them. This was how David
now felt; but what did Mephibosheth say when the
king told him he and Ziba were to share the land?
Was he angry, or did he think it unjust? No; his
true love for David now came out; he said yes, let
him take all; forasmuch as my lord the king is
come again in peace to his own house; he did not
care for land and money now; his joy was full to see
David back. Ziba might take all the land and all
the money, he would not quarrel about it; the king
was back again, and this was enough to make
Mephibosheth quite happy."
"This was beautiful, unselfish love, and must
surely have made David feel very much ashamed
of himself for believing that Mephibosheth ever
wished to take the kingdom for himself during
"We do not read any more about Mephibosheth
after this, but I think David would never forget
their meeting on his return home, and would never
believe any more stories about selfishness or ingrati-
The True David. 23
tude in Mephibosheth; and I hope it taught him to be
slow in believing all he heard, because it is particularly
important for a king to be very just; and we must
not always judge, you know, by appearances; for, as
in Ziba's case, they often deceive us. When the
Lord Jesus Christ, the true David, shall rule, we
read, He shall not judge after the sight of his eyes,
neither reprove after the hearing of his ears: but
with righteousness shall he judge the poor.' Isa. xi. 3.
This means that Christ will not look upon things as
they appear to be, but as they really are, and will
make no mistakes and do no one any injustice; and
we know He values the love of our hearts more
than all our services. For He says to us, My son,
give me thine heart.'" (Prov. xxiii. 26.)
. :,., h ., .;,.-..'..
RS. HOWARD here paused, and looking
round to Herbert, said, Now, Herbert,
you shall tell us how you like my story."
"Very much indeed, Aunty," replied the child.
whose face had by this time lost all its gloom; "but
I think it was very wrong of David to believe Ziba's
It was, my dear, a sad mistake; but, perhaps,
we can hardly be surprised at it, when we remember
the deep trouble and sorrow poor David was in.
Sorrow, you know, makes us generally very selfish;
we are thinking so much of our own trouble, that
we do not pay much attention to other people, but
rather expect them to be thinking of us. This was
the case with David, and caused him many sorrow-
ful thoughts afterwards, I doubt not: but think, my
children, what a beautiful example of unselfishness in
T.- Perfect Example. ,2 5
sorrow we have in our blessed Lord Jesus. We
never find any trouble or pain made Him forget
others. In many instances we see this; but in one
or two it is very remarkable. When the soldiers
came to take Jesus, He thought of His disciples,
and said to the men, 'If ye seek me, let these go
their way.' John xviii. 8. And again, when on the
cross, in all the agony of that dreadful hour, the
Lord was not occupied with His own sorrow, but
with others; He thought of His beloved mother,
and told His dear disciple John to take care of her
and be as a son to her. John xix. 26, 27.
Though the Lord Jesus did not plainly tell John to
take care of His mother, yet in the words, 'Behold
thy mother,' He evidently meant him to understand
that He put him in His own place as a son, to care
for her as He had done; and John quite understood
Him, for we read, 'From that hour that disciple
took her unto his own home.' John xix. 26, 27.
Thus you see, dear children, however wise and good
God's servants may be, we see some failure in all of
them. In the Lord Jesus C (!ri-t alone, do we find
a perfect example. He did always those things
which pleased His Father."
How very frightened Ziba must have felt,
mamma, when he found out that David had
discovered his lie and deception, must he
'Yes, indeed, my dear," replied Mrs. Howard,
"we can easily imagine his feelings; he no doubt
flattered himself it would never be discovered, but
God's word is certain; Be sure your sin will find
you out.' \. xxxii. 23. It does not say when,
it may be very soon, as in this case, or a long time
may pass; but God never forgets sin, though we
may do so, and the day of reckoning will surely
come. Do either of you remember the case of
another servant, whose covetousness led him to
lying and deception, which was very quickly dis-
covered and brought a very dreadful punishment
upon him? "
The children thought for some minutes and
looked at each other: at last Ellen said, "I think
I ought to know, mamma, but I can't recollect; but
if you tell me which book the story is in, I think I
shall remember it."
"It is in the 2nd Book of Kings," replied Mrs.
Howard; "and we read it a very short time ago,
in our morning reading."
"Oh'! was it Elijah's servant, mamma, when
his master cured the leper ? I forget his
"I see you have the right man in your mind,
Annie, but in a confused way; it was Elisha, not
Elijah, that cured Naaman, the Syrian, of his
leprosy; and his servant was the one I referred to.
But you had better open your Bibles at the 5th
chapter of 2nd Kings, and find out the servant's
A Common Mistake.
name for yourselves, and then I think you will
remember it another time."
The children did so, and Ellen exclaimed, "Oh!
mamma, I have found it in the 2oth verse. Gehazi
was the servant's name."
"Yes, my dear," said her mamma, "and I should
-like you to try and tell me the story, unless," added
she, Herbert can do so instead."
And she looked at the little boy, who shook his
head, and was obliged to own he never heard that
story before, upon which his cousin Annie said,
"There, Herbert, you see you don't know all the
bible stories as you-"
Her mamma, however, stopped her finishing her
sentence by saying, "My dear Annie, is Herbert
the only child you could name who sometimes
thinks he knows rather more than he really does ?"
Annie looked rather ashamed and hung down her
head, while her mamma continued, "It is a mis-
take we are all very prone to make; and the older
and wiser we grow, we learn how many things there
are about which we think we know a great deal and
find we really know very little. And when we see
how often we make mistakes ourselves, it should
make us very gentle with others, particularly when
younger than ourselves. But now, Annie, you may
try and tell us the story of Gehazi."
Annie begged her mamma would tell it them, as
they would all understand it so much better.
Mrs. Howard smiled, and agreed to do so. "But,"
said she, "suppose, before we begin this story, we
sing a little hymn together."
"Oh yes, mamma; that will be very nice!" ex-
claimed both the little girls.
"Will you like to sing a hymn, Herbert, dear ?"
said Mrs. Howard, taking her little nephew by the
hand and leading him to the harmonium.
"Yes, very much, Aunty," replied the child.
"Which shall it be?" added she, as she took her
seat at the instrument, and looked round upon the
"Shall we sing, 'Around the throne of God in
heaven,' mamma? that is a very pretty one, I
think," said Ellen.
"Yes, my dear, it is; we will sing that first."
They then together sang the following favourite
"Around the throne of God in heaven,
Thousands of children stand:
Children whose sins are all forgiven,
A holy, happy band,
Singing glory, glory, glory.
"In flowing robes of spotless white
See every one arrayed;
Dwelling in everlasting light,
And joys that never fade-
Singing glory, glory, glory.
Once they were little things like you,
And lived on earth below,
And could not praise, as now they do,
The Lord that loved them so,-
Singing glory, glory, glory.
What brought them to that world above,
That heaven so bright and fair,
Where all is peace, and joy, and love?
How came those children there,
Singing glory, glory, glory?
"Because the Saviour shed His blood
To purge away their sin;
Now wash'd in that most precious flood,
Behold them white and clean,
Singing glory, glory, glory."
When it was finished, Herbert asked for another;
and at his aunt's desire, chose one himself. He
fixed upon the following, which was also sung.
"Among the deepest shades of night,
Can there be one who sees my way?
Yes; God is like a shining light,
That turns the darkness into day.
"TWhen every eye around me sleeps,
May I not sin without control?
No; for a constant watch He keeps,
On every thought of every soul.
"If I could find some cave unknown,
Where human foot had never trod,
E'en there I could not be alone;
On every side there would be God."
When it was finished, Ellen said, "If Gehazi and
Ziba had known this hymn, mamma, perhaps they
would have been afraid to act so wickedly."
"Well, my dear Ellen, I can hardly agree with
you," replied her mother, "because I see so many
children and grown-up people too, who do know
this hymn and many others like it, and many Scrip-
tures which teach the same solemn lesson that God
always sees us, and yet they try to deceive as much
as Ziba or Gehazi did. If that truth had acted
with power on their consciences, it certainly would
have prevented their falling into sin."
"But what did Gehazi do?" said Herbert, "I
want to know."
"Well, my dear," said his aunt, "we will now
return to the sofa, and I will tell you the story of
Gehazi. But look, Herbert," added she, as they
passed the window, "are we going to have a wet
day now, do you think?"
Oh no, aunty, the sun is coming out quite
brightly, and the garden looks nearly dry; how
different to the morning! oh, I am so glad!" cried
the child, skipping about with joy, "we need not
stay in the house all day long."
"No, indeed, my boy; I hope we shall be able
to go out after dinner. I want to inquire for one or
two sick people, and you shall go with me, and your
little cousins will like to shew you our pretty lanes
about here; and then, as we come back, we will
A Short Morning.
look in at the school and see all the children; you
will, I am sure, like to hear them sing and repeat
"Oh, thank you, aunty dear, that will be
But come," said Mrs. Howard, "it is nearly
dinner-time, we shall hardly have time to tell you
the story of Gehazi."
"Dinner-time !" exclaimed all the children, "why
how very short the morning has been; I did not
think it was twelve o'clock !"
Mrs. Howard smiled, and looking at her little
nephew, said, with rather a droll face, "Why,
Herbert, I thought Sunday was always such a very
long day; how is it the morning has been so
"I don't know, I am sure," said Herbert; "I
can't think how the time has gone; we seem only
just to have sat down."
"Well, dear, I think the secret is, you have been
fully occupied; and time never passes so quickly as
when we are very busy, and it never seems to pass
so slowly as when we are idle and have nothing to
do. If you remind me, Herbert, to-morrow, I will
tell you a story about using up spare minutes; but
now I will tell you about Gehazi." Mrs. Howard
then proceeded as follows.
THE STORY OF GEHAZT.-2 Kings v.
7I EHAZI, my dear children, as you have al-
ready found out, was the servant of Elisha,
the prophet of God; he had seen many miracles
performed by his master, but, evidently, did not par-
take of his master's spirit. This teaches us the
solemn lesson, that living with God's people and
enjoying many privileges, will never make us love
God, or the things of God; our hearts must be
changed before we can really love and serve Him.
"In the chapter to which we have referred, we
find Elisha had, by the power of God, cured
Naaman, the Syrian, of a dreadful disease called
leprosy: it was a terrible complaint which no
doctors could cure-only God could cure it and
when he found he was made quite well, Naaman,
who was a very rich man, wanted to make Elisha a
The First Wicked Thozught.
very handsome present to shew his gratitude; but
the prophet would not take anything, he wished to
shew Naaman that God gives freely, and that His
gifts, either for this life or for life eternal, can never
be purchased by anything that man can give. He
wished Naaman to understand that God must ever
'be the giver, and man must be the receiver. And
Naaman understood this, for after offering the
prophet the present and finding he would not accept
it, he asked Elisha to give him something; What do
you think this was? it was two mules' burden of
earth!/ What could this be for? Why it was to
make an altar to the true God, when he reached
home, of the earth from the land of Canaan, which
was God's own land. For this Naaman, you
must remember, had been a worshipper of idols;
but now he had learned that the God of Israel was
the only true God, for only He could cure the
leprosy, and so he wished to build an altar to Him.
You may be sure Elisha was very glad to give
Naaman this present, and after this he started on
his long journey. Now Gehazi had seen the, pre-
sent that Naaman had offered -to Elisha, and he
thought to himself, What a pity my master has let
this Syrian go home without taking any of his
presents! This was his first thought, then came
the next wicked one-I will run after him and take
something from him. You see, Gehazi should have
checked the first thought, it was a covetous one,
;'he Story of Ge,,ai.
and shewed he had no care that the poor Syrian
idolater should know that the gift of God was with-
out money and without price; then followed the
next wicked thought, and then! What came after
that? he ran after Naaman's chariot. Naaman saw
Gehazi running after him, and got down to meet
him. He thought he was come with some message
from his master, and he felt so grateful to Elisha
that he wished to shew his respect for him, and his
willingness to serve him, and his wish for his wel-
fare, so he got down, and he asks Gehazi 'Is all
well?' Gehazi said 'Yes, al' is well.' And what
more did he say ? Ah! now he had to tell a lie: thus
a wicked thought is the beginning of a whole list
ofsins. Think of this, my dear children, and refuse
the first thought of sin. Gehazi said to Naaman,
'Two visitors (sons of the prophets) have just arrived
at my master's house, and he begs you to give them
a talent of silver, and two changes of garments.'
Was there any truth in this message? no not one
bit, it was a direct lie; but Naaman was well
pleased to serve Elisha in any way, so lie said 'Yes,
I'll gladly send him more than that;' and he gave
two of his own servants two talents of silver (you
remember Gehazi had only asked for one) and two
changes of raiment, and told them to carry them
home for Gehazi, and they did so. And when they
came to the tower belonging to Elisha's house, he
took the things from the servants and they went
God Sees All.
back to their master: then Gehazi put the things
carefully away in the tower, and very likely thought
to himself how cleverly he had managed the matter,
and that no one knew anything at all about it.
Was this true? Oh, no! God saw it all. Even
the first wicked thought in his heart, God knew.
And Gehazi might have remembered that God told
his master many things that nobody else knew, and
that he might tell him all this matter; but I suppose
he did not think of this, for sin blinds our minds
terribly, and often makes us do the most foolish
things, as we shall see with Gehazi."
,' .' ---
THE STORY OF GEHAZI-(COntfiuIld.)
0o when he had put all the things that
Naaman had given him, very safely away in
the tower, he went as usual to wait upon his master
and see if he wanted anything. What do you think
Elisha said to him, when he came in? He asked
him where he came from. What a question for
Gehazi! how he must have trembled before the
searching eye of his master. Did he fall down
before him and tell him all the truth? Ah, no!
that would have been the best thing he could have
done; and, perhaps, he wished he could do so; as,
I dare say, you have all of you felt sometimes, when
you have done wrong. You wish you could tell the
whole truth, but you feel afraid, and then Satan
makes you think it is too late, and you had better
cover up one sin by another and deny your fault,
and so one sin leads to another.
The Sin Found Out.
"The thing to fear, therefore, dear children,- is
the first wicked thought or inclination. What did
Gehazi now do? Why, he gave a most'foolish
answer-he told the prophet he had not been any-
where Did he forget his master was a prophet of
God, do you think? It would look rather like it,
to give him such a silly answer. Did he not re-
member all the miracles Elisha had done by the
power of God? How he raised the dead, made the
iron swim, multiplied the widow's oil, cured the
leprosy, and many other wonderful things he may
have seen; and did he think such a master could
be deceived so easily? Ah, well; as we said before,
sin is a very deceiving thing, and cleverly as Gehazi
had managed all this matter, he had now to find out
that his master was cleverer still; and you must try
and fancy how he felt when Elisha said to him,
"Went not my heart with thee when the man turned
again from his chariot to meet thee?'
"Now, indeed, 'his sin had found him out.'
How short a time had he enjoyed his treasures!
He had not had time to spend any of the money, or
to wear any of the clothes : he had not had time even
to pay one little visit to the tower to look at his trea-
sures, before all his wickedness was brought out;
and he had only to stand there and hear his awful
doom and punishment from the lips of that master
whom he had tried to deceive !
"And Elisha said, 'The leprosy, therefore, of
The Story of Gehazi.
Naaman, shall cleave unto thee and unto thy seed
for ever !' What fearful words, dear children, were
they not? And you must remember, leprosy was a
worse thing for Gehazi than for Naaman."
"How, mamma, was that? I thought N I i
could never have been cured except by God's
power," said Ellen.
"Quite true, my dear. I am not surprised that
my remark should puzzle you a little, but I will
explain it, and then I think you will agree with me
that it was a heavier affliction for Gehazi than even
for Naaman, though in both cases the sad disease
was incurable by human means.
"Gehazi, you know, was a few, and Naaman was
a Gentile. Now, Ellen, does that help you to
answer your own question?" asked Mrs. Howard.
"No, mamma; I do not think it does.
"Was it because Elisha said Gehazi never should
be cured, and N 11. n :o i may have hoped for a cure,
aunty, dear?" said little Herbert, looking up in a
questioning way in Mrs. Howard's face,
"No, my little man, that was nc.l the reason;"
replied his aunt. "Though you are quite right in
thinking that would have made a difference if there
had been any room for hope of relief in Naaman's
case, but 'I rather think he.had no such hope;
because, as he was a heathen, and had never heard
of the true God, he is not likely ever to have heard
of such a thing as leprosy being cured."
S"How did he know Elisha could cure it then,
"Oh I see, darling, you have not heard the story
about Naaman. I did not think of that, or I would
have begun at the beginning; but it is now too late,
so we must leave it till another day. And I will
only tell you now, that he heard leprosy was cured
in the land of Israel through a little Jewish girl that
he had carried away in war from that country, and
taken home to wait upon his wife. The reason why
it was worse for a Jew to be a leper than it was for
a Gentile, was because God made laws about leprosy
that all the Jews had to obey. Among them, a leper
had to live alone, far from any one, and wear a cover
upon his upper lip ; and when any one happened to
come near him he had to call out, 'unclean!
unclean!' to tell them he was a leper, and they
must not come nearer. Now, Naaman was a great
general, and much loved and valued by the king his
master, and able to live at home with his wife, and
only had to bear the sad disease, but no sorrow-
ful consequences. Now, do you understand the
cl .-i .=.,._.: ? "
"Oh, yes, quite;" exclaimed the children.
"And did Gehazi turn a leper at once inquired
Yes, my dear. If you look at the last verse of
the chapter you will find, as soon as Elisha had
pronounced his dreadful sentence upon Gehazi, that
The Stoly of Geazi.
'he went out from his presence a leper as white as
Oh how dreadful, aunty."
"Very dreadful, indeed, my child. And oh, how
Gehazi must have wished he had never had the
covetous thought, that he had never told the lie to
Naaman, or tried to deceive his master; but that he
had, instead of this, remembered those solemn
words, Thou God seest me!' Let us all try to
remember them, my dear children, and fear the first
step in sin. But now run away and prepare for
dinner, or you will not be ready when the bell
Mrs. Howard then kissed them all, and they ran
off, greatly pleased with the way in which they had
pissed the wet Sunday morning.
t-- f,. -.
,.L '.'-'' *' "' S ,
./ ;v' : V '.v. I' V .V_' V" V ,v V Y.,V,
AN ERRAND OF MERCY.
M FTER dinner the children were quickly ready
to accompany Mrs. Howard in her walk;
and as their way lay through some beautiful Devon-
shire lanes, with the hedges full of pretty wild
flowers, the little visitor from the busy streets of
London, greatly enjoyed his ramble.
Mrs. Howard directed her little girls to take
care of Herbert, and show him some ducks in a
pond, while she went in to see her aged
friend, Mrs. Gregory, who had long been a great
sufferer, and confined to her bed for many years.
While Mrs. Howard was conversing with her,
a heavy shower coming on, the children were
called in for shelter. The old lady greeted the
two little girls with pleasure, and evidently was
no strange to them. Herbert looked about, as if
An Errand of lMercy.
he wondered at finding himself in so new an
After the shower had passed, the little party
returned homewards; not forgetting, however, to
call at the school, as Mrs. Howard had promised,
that Herbert might see all the happy children
singing and reciting together. When they reached
home it was tea time.
While making tea, Mrs. Howard asked Herbert
if he had enjoyed his walk. He replied that he had
done so, only it was very stupid sitting so long in
that old woman's cottage. What do you go to see
her for, aunty ? said he.
"My dear child," said Mrs. Howard, "poor Mrs.
Gregory is a sufferer, and has long been one, and we
feel it a pleasure and a privilege to minister to her
in any way we can. She is a very patient and
happy christian, who is longing to depart and be
with her Master; but till He sees fit to remove her,
she desires to glorify and honour Him in suffering
"But what's the use of Ellen and Annie going to
her, aunty? they cannot do anything for her, I am
"Indeed, my dear boy, you are quite mistaken;
they greatly cheer the old woman by their visits, and
they are as fond of going to her as she is to have
them: and I like them to go, for they may learn
wany lessons from seeing her."
An Aged S ^' 43
"What lessons, aunty? I don't know how a poor
old woman like that can teach young ladies."
"I will tell you then, my dear boy. They see
that Mrs. Gregory is very poor, very old, and
very :,i.ii,,. and yet that she is very contented,
and patient, and happy; and they know that this is
the result of God's grace in Mrs. Gregory, for she
was a very different person once, as all her neigh-
bours can tell you; but it pleased God to teaeh her
what a sinner she was in His sight, and how unable
to save herself. And it also pleased Him to shew
her, that what she could never do to save herself
from eternal ruin, the Lord Jesus had done for her.
That He had paid the heavy debt she owed, and
that now there was nothing but peace and joy for
her. And since God's Holy Spirit has taught her
this, she has been quite a new creature, and as
happy as the day is long, only waiting the summons
to her heavenly home. Though she is a great
sufferer, when your little cousins go to see her, it
cheers her, for she is very fond of them, and she
will tell them a hymn or a verse of Scripture, and
sometimes they tell her one, which pleases her
greatly. Then, occasionally, I send her a little
present by them, and sometimes they take a message
or do an errand for her; and all this not only helps
the poor old lady, but gives them the pleasure of
I don't think, that is a great. pleasure, aunt., I
An Errand of Mercy.
like other people to wait upon me," said Herbert.
"It's only servants and poor people that have to
serve others, and of course it is their duty."
His aunt was very sorry to hear her little nephew
speak in this way, but she knew it was the result of
his training at home, where, as I before said, he was
so over-indulged, that he thought of nothing but
himself; and she was very anxious while with her he
should learn the happiness of living for others; but
she knew she could not teach him this all at once,
so she only said, I see, my dear boy, you have
never tried the plan of trying to make others happy,
or you would not say there was no pleasure in it;
but I hope some day you will do so, and then I
think you will agree with me, there is no greater
source of happiness in this world than in being
useful to others."
These words sounded very strange to Herbert,
but as his little cousins came into the room, and
tea was by this time quite ready, they all took
their seats without any further reference to poor
The weather being quite fine, the children had
the satisfaction of going out in the evening; and on
returning home Herbert asked his aunt to tell them
another Bible story, one of those that David may
have told Mephibosheth about Jonathan, he should
like best; but Mrs. Howard said she thought he
had heard quite enough for that day, and as it was
A Story Deferred. 45
"nearly bed time, he had better have his supper with
his little cousins, and wait till the next day to hear
the story which she would then tell him with great
Shait^ ^inth. *
H E next morning Herbert did not forget to
,l minind his aunt of her promise to tell him
another story; but Mrs. Howard said, "My dear
boy, I will not forget it, but this is not the time for
it; I have many things to attcad to this morning."
"I thought it was holiday time, aunty, and you
had no lessons?"
That is quite true, my love. We have put aside
our lessons for a whole month, but we must not,
therefore, be idle; there are a great many things to
be done, and you may either come and help me, or
you may amuse yourself with your cousins.'
"I wanted to hear the story," muttered Herbert.
"That, my dear, you cannot now do; but youi
may run in the garden and play, and when you are
tired, come to me, and I will find some nice
little job for you to do for me." So saying,
Mrs. Howard went to the door and called her little
girls, and told them to take their little cousin and
amuse him in the garden.
Oh, mamma, may we not help you?" exclaimed
both Ellen and Annie; "there is so much to .be
done this morning, and you always let us help
"Yes, my dears, I know you like to assist me, but
as Herbert is a stranger here, he would like to play,
so you can play with him this morning."
"Oh, but let Herbert help you, too, mamma;"
interrupted both at once. I am sure he will like
it; won't you, Herbert?" said they, turning round
to their little cousin.
I want to hear the story aunt promised to tell
me," persisted Herbert.
Oh, never mir d that now, dear," replied Annie;
"you know we cannot always have what we want,
and you shall hear the story in the evening."
However, as Herbert seemed unwilling to do
anything but listen to the story, Mrs. Howard said,
" Well, my dear Herbert, I am sorry to see you so
unamiable, but I cannot lose any more time now;
and I am going to the garden with your cousins, if
you like to come and help us, you can, and if not,
you can remain here and amuse yourself."
So saying, Mrs. Howard left the room with her
two little girls.
How very disagreeable Herbert is, mamma!"
said Ellen; I do not know what we shall do with
him for a whole month."
"My dear," replied her mamma, "I have already
told you your cousin is to be much pitied, and I
hope you will try and be very kind and patient with
him. He is the only one at home, and has had
very delicate health; and his mamma has feared she
would not have him long, and has tried to meet
every wish and fancy that he has expressed. I think
this is a great mistake; for instead of making him
really happy and cheerful, it makes him a trouble
both to himself and other people. But I hope he will
not have come to us in vain; and if he return home
a happier little boy, with more power of enjoying
life himself, and some love foi; making others happy,
I am sure we shall all feel rewarded for any little
trouble we have taken with him. Remember, my
dear, with you the case has been very different;
you have been blessed with very good health, and
living in the country in the way we do, you have
always had many objects of interest round you, and
have never known what it is to be by yourself, and
only yourself to think of."
But why does not Aunt Ellen teach Herbert to
think of others, and to give up his own will,
"People have different opinions upon these
matters, my dear. Some parents think children of
your age are too young to be made useful; and
Work, a Pleasure.
because they cannot do things very zell, they do
not let them do them at all."
"I am sure you do not think so, mamma, for
you always like us to be usefully employed."
No my dear child, I certainly do not agree with
those who think children cannot be expected to
think of others, or to do anything for them while
young. On the contrary I think, with a little in-
struction, they can be made very useful; and I am
quite sure they (like grown-up people) are never so
happy as when usefully employed. You know the
little hymn says,-
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'
"And another reason for teaching young children
to be useful is, that they require so much care
and kindness from other people themselves,
that they learn to be very selfish, and to think,
as your little cousin does, that everybody's
business is to attend to them, unless they are
at an early age taught to feel how much they owe
to other people, and how pleasant it is to try and do
something for them in return. Moreover, our hearts
are so naturally selfish, that we cannot too early
seek to cultivate an opposite spirit; and this is not
a difficult task, for God has graciously ordered it
that labour has its own reward in success; and I
think you have found out already how pleasant it is
to feel you have succeeded in something you have
,attempted to do for another."
"Oh yes, mamma," said Annie; "I always feel
so much happier when I have been doing something
of real use than when I have been idle, or only
"Well, my dear, I hope Herbert will soon find
out this secret; and taking no notice of his humour
will, perhaps, be the best way to help him to recover
himself; so you may pick some peas for dinner,
Ellen, as the cook is busy this morning; go and ask
for the garden basket: and you, Annie dear, may
give the fowls their corn, and then come to me in
the front garden; I am going to speak to the
"a ", : "n
_'' .---E .. :. .
ti Qfi- rr .
THE PLEASURES OF INDUSTRY.
HILE the little girls ran off on their different
errands, Mrs. Howard went to speak to
Thomas, who was mowing the grass. She told
him that she expected to have the school children
the next day, and then they should like a large dish
of strawberries for tea. "The children can help
you to pick them if they are pretty ripe, Thomas;
only I am afraid they may pick those that are not
Oh, ma'am," replied the man, "I think they
may come. They always like to help, and I will
just see that they do not pick those that are unripe."
"Very well, then, they shall come after dinner
The Plcasures of Industry.
Thomas touched his hat, and his mistress went
into the house, where she met Annie, who had just
returned from the fowl house.
Oh, mamma, there are four eggs in the nest;
may I go and take them out?" exclaimed the child.
Yes, my love, here is the key," said her mamma.
But at this moment her eye rested upon Herbert,
who was standing peeping out at the dining-room
door, looking very miserable. Perhaps, Annie,
[Herbert might like to see the fowls and help you
to bring in the eggs."
"Will you come, Herbert, dear?" said Annie,
going up to her cousin and taking his hand.
He did not answer, but slowly went with his
cousin; his aunt merely adding, Take care and
carry the eggs very carefully, one in each hand,
Annie; and be sure and don't break them." Mrs.
Howard, in passing the passage window, saw that
Herbert had quickened his steps, and raised her
heart ia prayer for her dear little nephew, that God
would bless his visit to her, and enable them to act
in wisdom towards him. She then sat down to
write a note. As she was folding it up, Annie and
Herbert came in at the window, each carrying two
fine eggs, one in each hand.
Look, aunty," said Herbert, "here are two such
fine ones, and this one is quite warm-the large
grey fowl had only just left the nest."
"There's a useful little man," said Mrs. Howard,
An Acceptable Present.
kissing the little face which had by this time lost
its unhappy look; "and now, Herbert, would you
like to carry your eggs a little further, and bring
them into the china pantry? and then I will shew
you where we keep them." His aunt then crossed
the passage to the china closet, where she opened a
cupboard and shewed Herbert a shelf with a long
row of eggs upon it. "Now," said she, "we will
write the day of the month upon these new eggs
and put them at this end of the row, and then when
Mary wants eggs for her pudding, she will take
them from the other end, and so all will be used in
their turn. But bring me a basin, Annie, and you
shall take in the eggs that Mary will want to-day
into the kitchen; and then, if you like, you may
take a little basket to Mrs. Browning, I hear she is
not quite so well this week."
"Oh, thank you, mamma; what will you send
"Bring the basket first, and then you shall see,
Annie ran off, and was soon back with a covered
basket in her hand; in which her mother placed two
eggs, a little pat of butter, a little rice, and a
small basin with some strong broth which was
in a jelly, being cold, but which she thought
would make the poor woman a nice dinner when
Annie ran off. "Would you like to go, Herbert,
The Pleasures of IJndustry.
or would you like to run and see what Ellen is
doing in the garden ?"
I will go in the garden, aunty, please," said the
"Very well, my dear, do so, and I will come
Mrs. Howard then ordered dinner, told Mary she
should want some large cakes made for the children's
tea party on the next afternoon, and then, taking a
large pan in her hand and a basket on her arm, she
proceeded to the garden, where she found Herbert
busily employed picking peas with his cousin Ellen.
On seeing his aunt, he ran up to shew her his lap
was nearly full. "I have picked all these myself,
aunty, dear; and Ellen says I may help her to shell
them in the arbour."
"That will be very nice, I think," said Mrs. Howard,
"and as the same idea occurred to me, you see I have
brought a pan to shell them into, and also some
lunch for some hungry children," added she, smiling.
She then led the way to the arbour, where she
placed her basket upon the table and shewed the
children how to shell the peas, putting all the shells
into the basket and all the peas into the pan, and
be sure and pick up any you may drop, because I
do not like waste, you know, in anything," said she,
The two children sat down, much pleased with
this arrangement, and having taken out the lunch
and eaten it, they began the business of shelling the
Mrs. Howard then went to the study, where she
locked up all the school-books, slates, and inkstands,
where she was soon joined by Annie, who had just
returned from her errand. Well, my love, how
did you find poor old Mrs. Browning, to-day ?'
Oh, she seems rather better, mamma, and very
much obliged to you for sending her such a nice
dinner. Now may I help you to get this room ready?"
"I am just putting away the things we shall not
want, as you must turn out all your little presents
here this afternoon, you know; and then we must
see what pieces we have left to work up, for I think
we shall want several more things."
"Oh, you know, Aunt Louisa said she would
send up some this afternoon by my cousins; and
they have some of their own, I know, for they
shewed me a large bag of pieces, which they have
been collecting from their friends all the year for
"Are all three of your cousins coming ?"
"Yes, mamma, Charlie said he would come with
his sisters, because he can make bookmarkers and
"I am glad to hear it, my love; perhaps seeing
another little boy at work may make Herbert take a
fancy to it; or if not, he will have a nice playfellow
in the garden."
The Pleasi-res of Industry.
"Oh, I wish to-morrow were come, mamma,"
exclaimed the little girl, jumping and skipping
about; "it will be so nice to see all the little
children so pleased and happy."
Well, my dear Annie," said her mother, "I
cannot say I join in your wish, that to-morrow were
here; for as we are by no means ready for your
company, it would rather alarm me to see them all
Annie laughed at the idea of seeing forty school
children come in without things being ready for them,
and assured her mother that, on second thoughts, she
did not wish the next day were come; "but what
shall I do now, mamma?" said she.
Well, on this table I would lay all the pieces for
doll-dressing, I think; and on that table, all your
pieces of coloured cloth and flannel, for penwipers
and bags. All the waste paper, envelopes and
letters, and such pieces, put in my rubbish basket;
and here, I have six pieces of new chintz for the
pillow cases; then bring the little needle books,
pincushions, and bookmarks you have made, and
set them upon the mantelpeice with all the dolls
that are dressed, and those yet to be dressed, and
all the little pictures and magazines in my portfolio;
and then if you bring your own work boxes and
mine, I think we shall have all we shall require."
"Yes, mamma, I will." And off ran the happy
child, and soon returned with her arms full of all
A Dorcas -1'
the required additions, which, with her mother's
help, were all soon arranged in their proper places,
and little Annie looked round with great satisfaction.
She then counted the chairs, to be quite sure there
were enough for her "Dorcas as she was
pleased to call it.
I do not think it deserves the name of a Dorcas
meeting, Annie, though it is for needlework; because,
you see, it is not for making clothes, and you know
SDorcas made clothes for the poor."
"Yes, mamma, I remember; but this work is for
the poor children, so I think it will do to call it a
children's Dorcas meeting."
"Very well, my dear, so it shall be if you wish
it; but do you know, I think in the long winter
evenings we might have a real children's Dorcas, and
make children's clothes. What do you think of
"Oh, it would be beautiful! only you must cut
out and fix the work, mamma."
"Oh yes, I think I must undertake that part of
the business," said mamma. I once was at such a
meeting, and the children accomplished a great deal
of work for their poorer neighbours."
Annie again declared the idea was a capital one,
and having arranged everything, ran off to the
garden to announce to her sister her mother's
proposal. "Have you finished the peas, Ellen?"
58 Thze Pleasures of Industry.
"Why, I should think it was time to eat them
now, Annie; for Herbert and I have had a long
game since we took them in to Mary."
Then they all had a run together down the garden
to shew Herbert the two cows in the meadow, and
then returned to the house to prepare for dinner,
which they found was very nearly ready.
-a-,'-.--_. ~ '-.- -'.
(ih:'ip t'i' Meuenith.
THE CHILDREN'S DORCAS MEETING.
IHE dinner things were hardly cleared away
before the children declared their cousins
were coming up the hill, and they ran joyfully to
meet them; they soon returned with two little girls,
Louisa and Edith, a little older than themselves,
being about twelve and fourteen, and their brother,
a fine little fellow about ten.
"Good afternoon, my dears," said Mrs. Howard,
advancing affectionately to meet them; "so you are
kindly come to help Ellen and Annie to prepare the
presents for to-morrow !"
Yes, dear aunt; and we have brought such a
large basket of pieces, and mamma sends a dozen
more little dolls and some little tiny books, which
she thinks will please the boys."
"And Ci:!.i has come to help us too," said
60 The C' 'c Dorcas 7.'
Mrs. Howard; "well, I have a nice little companion
for him to-day. He does not know this little
nephew of mine from London; you had better run
in the garden and make acquaintance, I think,
while your sisters go and take off their bonnets."
The two boys soon disappeared, and the four
girls adjourned to the school room, where they were
soon deeply involved in the mysteries of doll-
dressing. While they are discussing the various
colours and materials, we will just tell our little
readers what all this preparation is for.
Mrs. Howard's husband was in India, and since
her return home, on account of her health, about
three years before, she had devoted herself very
much to the training and teaching of her two little
girls. We have already heard some of her thoughts
on education. She felt she could not begin too
early to check the tendencies of our fallen nature in
her children, for she did not believe, as many do,
that children will naturally love what is good unless
taught to love evil; but she knew from Scripture,
that from their infancy they will shew evil tempers
and passions, and would need all the constant
prayerful training she could give them to lead them
to love what is good. So, as we already have heard,
she tried to cure them of selfishness by constantly
keeping alive their interests for others, in little ways
in which she taught them to assist them themselves,
or in making them her helpers in similar things in
The School Treat.
which she was herself engaged, though beyond their
powers alone. The children had, by this means,
many more interests than what belonged to them-
selves, and their hearts and sympathies were
enlarged. One of these interests was the village
school. Mrs. Howard paid a weekly visit there, in
which she was generally accompanied by one or
both of the children, who soon knew the best
scholars and the neatest workers, and the best
behaved children. If one were missed, enquiry was
made into the cause, which was often followed by a
visit to the cottage home of a sick child.
And once in the summer it was the great treat of
Mrs. Howard's children, to have all the school to tea in
their garden. So during the year they had an object
of interest, in making numbers of little presents,
which were carefully stowed away till the annual
visit came; when each child, whether boy or girl,
received some little token of love and interest from
the children at Beechgrove. To complete the
necessary number and a few more, their cousins
always joined them for an afternoon's work; and as
they were rather older than Ellen and Annie, they
were supposed to have more knowledge of how to
make pretty things; and this afternoon had been
fixed upon to complete the number of presents re-
quired for the next day. Then, all old pictures and
scraps, which were saved during the 'year, were
produced on this important occasion and many a
62 The C' "'..': Dorcas Veeting.
pretty contribution for a cottage picture book was
sent home for the amusement of a younger child, by
an elder brother and sister.
Another thing Mrs. Howard was very particular
about, was idleness. She never liked to see even a
little child idle. She liked to see them playing or
amusing themselves as they liked best; for she used
to say, "An idle child would soon be a cross child,
and perhaps something worse."
We must now return and look at our party in the
school-room. Many hands," they say, "make
light work;" and this would appear to be true, by
the large addition made to the table of finished
things. The two boys have also come in, to know
what there was for them to do. Mrs. Howard had
set them to sort and divide the pictures, and then
she shewed them the box full of papers, torn up
very small indeed, which she kept to fill pretty
chintz cases with for pillows.
"What funny pillows, Aunty," said Herbert; "I
don't think I should like to sleep upon one of
"Very likely not, my dear, because you have a
better one; but to the poor, they are very valuable:
and I can assure you I know some ladies who
always use paper pillows themselves because they
are so cool, who have plenty of'feather ones."
"Why, aunt, I could make one all alone."
"Yes, my dear, to be sure you could ; and much
younger children than you are have made them; it
only requires a large bag or box to put the paper into
as you tear it, and be careful to make no litter about
I will shew mamma when I go home, and ask
her to let me make a paper pillow all myself for
some one who has not a better one."
Do, my dear boy; I am sure dear mamma will
be very pleased to see you so nicely employed.
And perhaps your own nurse might like one as a
keepsake. Think how much she has done for you
when you could do nothing for yourself; and how
pleased she would be to have something of your
making for a keepsake, when you are grown a big
Herbert seemed struck with the idea, and re-
peated his intention of carrying it out as soon as he
,- '- .. ,- %C" ,- ,". .. i ,f .-
PREPARATION, AND ITS PLEASURES.
Y five o'clock, Ellen thought they must have
I things enough prepared. So she commenced
counting, and arrayed in a long row on the mantel-
piece, fifteen little farthing dolls, all attired in very
gay costume; twelve larger ones, sent by her aunt
Louisa, for which they selected the smartest dresses
their store afforded, these took their place by the side
of the others; then six penwipers of scarlet-and-black,
were arrayed in a row on a side table; next came eight
little needle boxes; and then twenty-two pincushions,
of various shapes and sizes; for Mrs. Howard thought
every tidy little girl should carry a pincushion, as it
not only made her independent of others when
she wanted a pin, but made her careful in picking
up pins if she had a pincushion to put them in,
and then she was aleo able to help a less tidy
neighbour when in want of one. So every little
girl was to have a pincushion in addition to the other
present; then twelve pretty bookmarkers were
ranged in order, with different texts and mottoes on
them; and twenty-five pretty little books followed,
and many parcels of scraps and pictures; so that
with the six paper pillows, the table presented quite
a gay appearance.
When they decided they had quite enough, the
clearing away of scraps was begun. Herbert was
about to throw away all the cuttings of cloth. But
Ellen stopped him, saying, "Oh, Herbert, do not
throw away one bit of cloth."
These bits of selvidges are of no use, I am
sure, Ellen," replied Herbert.
"Oh, indeed they are; in the winter, the poor
women like little capes for the school children, and
my aunt and cousins make many for them, and
this,winter mamma says I may try and see if I can
manage one. When you go to the school, I will
shew you the capes, and you will see how tidy they
are; for though they do not need them this summer
weather, some of the children still wear them be-
cause they have nothing else. Then the' edges of
the cloth do for something else, Herbert. Some
clever people make very warm rugs, by knitting in
all the pieces with thread; and they look so warm
and pretty, with a grey centre and red-and-black
66 Preparation, and its Pleasures.
borders-you would never guess how nice they
look. I will try and shew you one before you go
home, and then you can ask Aunt Ellen to give you
all her scraps, and you can keep them for some
poor woman, and I will give you a little pattern,
and then she could try and make one. Now,
all the bits of silk and ribbon we will put into
my piece box, and another day you shall see what
we will do with them; the papers are all used up,
I see, so we will put back the basket in its place to
Herbert carried it back to its place; and as Ellen
pronounced the room quite tidy now, they went into
the dining-room, where they found Mrs. Howard
making the tea-
"I hope you have left the school-room quite tidy,
my dears," she remarked.
"Oh yes, aunt," said Herbert; Ellen would put
everything away. I wondered she did not leave it
for the servant, as I do at home."
We have but two servants, my dear child, and,
therefore, we each try to save work and not to make
it: but if I had a great many servants, I should still
like my children to do everything they could for
themselves, and to be independent."
"But why, aunty ? If you had plenty of servants
you need not do things yourself, like poor people;
it looks as if you couldn't afford it, and nobody
would take you for a lady !"
"Knowled;,'e is Power."
Mrs. Howard could not help laughing at this
terrible conclusion that Herbert had arrived at; but
she replied, "Well, my dear boy, I understand what
you mean, and I am very thankful for the help we
have from Mary and Thomas; and in the present
state of society in this country, it would be almost
impossible to do without servants; but still, my
love, we must remember God's word says, 'Riches
make to themselves wings and fly away.' Now, I
always think it right to teach my children to do all
they can for themselves; because much of their
future happiness may depend upon being able to
help themselves and others also. You know, there
is a very true saying, 'Knowledge is power:' we
need never be afraid of knowing too much of what
is good and useful. 'My dear mother, I remember,
used to say to me when I was a child, 'My dear,
have a little help in yourself,' and many, many times
have I thanked her since for the advice. Then,
Herbert dear, as to what people think of us, it does
not much matter; they may very often think too
well of us, and sometimes the reverse; but never be
ashamed of anything but sin. Let it be your one
desire to be approved by God, and never mind
losing the approval of those who will only esteem
you because you are rich and have servants to wait
After tea, the cousins amused themselves for some
time in the garden and then the Beechgrove party
68 Preparation, and its Pleasures.
accompanied the others part of the way home, and
then took leave of them, charging them to be there
in good time next day, to join the school children.
As they returned to the house, they saw their mamma
sitting at the window enjoying the lovely sunset
They were poon by her side.
Is it not a lovely evening, mamma? Don't you
think we shall have a fine day to-morrow?" were
questions which quickly followed each other.
"Yes, my dears, I think there is every promise of
a fine day, and I am glad of it; for I should be very
sorry for the poor children to be disappointed."
For a few minutes all seemed disposed for silence,
and were occupied with the beautiful tints of the
setting sun, which cast a golden hue on all around.
When they had been sitting quietly some minutes,
Mrs. Howard remarked, I think, Herbert, there
would be just time, before the prayer-bell rings, for
a story, if you are not too tired to enjoy it."
"Oh no, aunt, not at all too tired, if you will tell
"What shall it be?"
I should like best to hear what David may have
"Very well, my dear, it shall be about Jonathan,
for he was avery lovely character."
Mrs. Howard then begun as follows.
THE STORY OF JONATHAN.-I Sam. xviii.
" HAVE already told you that Jonathan was
the son of Saul. The first time we hear of
his meeting David, was after he had returned from
killing Goliath, which you remember. We read, It
came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking
to Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the
soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own
soul. And Saul took him that day, and would let
him go no more home to his father's house. Then
Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he
loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped
himself of the robe.that was upon him, and gave it
to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and
to his bow, and to his girdle.' What a beautiful
description of unselfish love nothing was too much
to give to him he loved.
70 The S: i of Jonathan.
"So you know it was with a greater than Jonathan.
Our blessed Lord laid down even His own life for
those whom He styled His friends and His brethren.
And those who know Him, ought, we are told, to
lay down their lives for the brethren. It must
have pained the kind heart of Jonathan to see how
his father hated David: and you may suppose how
he felt, when 'Saul spake to Jonathan and all his
servants, that they should kill David.' (chap. xix. I.)
Jonathan kill David, in whom he so much delighted?
Quite impossible! What did he do then? Why, he
told David that his father wished to kill him; and
then proposed to him to hide in a field until next
morning. And he promised to talk to Saul about
him, and see if he seemed really determined to kill
him, and then to let David know. Jonathan did as
he promised, and talked to his father about David; and
reminded him how kind and good he had been, and
how he had killed the great giant that everyone so
feared, and he begged Saul not to slay him without
a cause. Jonathan spoke so nicely and wisely to
his father, that Saul's heart seemed touched; and he
felt sorry, and perhaps ashamed, of his wicked
desire to kill the young man; and he said, 'As the
Lord liveth, he shall not be slain.'
Oh! can you not fancy how very happy it made
Jonathan feel, to hear his father say these words
about his beloved friend? You can easily imagine
how quickly he went to find David, and to tell him
Jealousy of Saul.
that he might come out of his hiding place, for his
life was now quite safe, and Saul did not want to
"And you can think how grateful David felt to
Jonathan, for all his love and care for him. This
was the first time he saved his friend's life, but it
was not the last time, as you shall hear. After
Jonathan had told David he was not to be killed, he
took him to Saul, and he was in his presence just as
he was before. I suppose Saul did not know that
David had been told he wanted to kill him, or he
must have felt very uncomfortable at having him
with him again.
"Some time after this, the Philistines fought
against the Israelites; and David went to battle
with them and slew a great many, and the rest ran
away from him. No doubt they remembered their
great champion Goliath being killed by that same
young hand, and they thought they should be killed
also. Do you not think Saul must have been very
much pleased with David, for fighting for him so
bravely against the Philistines?
"I think he ought to have been very pleased,
but, I am sorry to say, he was jealous of David; and
you remember we are told, that 'Jealousy is cruel
as the grave.' And so it was with Saul. He had
an evil Spirit upon him, and David was playing his
harp to do him good, for his soft music often made
Saul much better. Saul was sitting with his javelin
7 7e Story of Jonat/an.
in his hand, which was a small short dagger; and
with this javelin he tried to smite David to the-- ,!
to kill him! Was not that very cruel of Saul ?
Did God allow him to be killed? No, David saw
his danger, and slipped away out of the room, and
the javelin stuck in t/ze wall! Ah, you see no one
can hurt a child of God, unless God allows it. You
remember, in Job's case, Satan could not go a bit
further in injuring Job than God permitted.
"So David fled, and escaped that night; and his
wife Michal, who was a daughter of Saul, and
sister of Jonathan, said to him, 'If you do not
leave home to-night, you will be surely killed to-
morrow.' So she let him down from a window,
and he escaped to a place named Naioth, in
"How, do you think, Michal knew David would
be killed in the morning? I will tell you. When
Saul found the javelin was sticking in the wall, and
that David had gone out of the room, he supposed
he would go home; so he sent men to watch his
house all night, that they might kill him in the
morning. But his wife suspected the plan, and sent
him away. Some one told Saul David was ill in
bed, so Saul said, Bring him up to me in the bed,
that I may kill him.' Did you ever know such
cruel hatred ?"
< :o .- .... .,....,
( t ] f Jll'r qoulmtnllth.
THE STORY OF JONATHAN-(COntZZitied).
" are not told where Jonathan was when Saul
tried to kill David; but David soon found
him and told him about it, and said to him, What
have I done? What is my iniquity, and what is my
sin. before thy father, that he seeketh to kill me?'
"Jonathan could not believe David's story. He
said 'God forbid-thou shalt not die. My father
never does anything, great or small, without telling
me; and why should he hide this thing from me ?
It is not so.'
Jonathan could not believe that Saul really
meant to kill David. But David answered, 'Your
father knows it would grieve you; and that must be
the reason why he does not like to tell you, because
The Story of Jonathan.
he knows how you love me. But, truly, as the Lord
liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but one step
between me and death.'
I suppose Jonathan felt that what David said
was, perhaps, true; but he offers to do whatever he
can for him. What did David ask him to do? He
said, Saul would expect to see him at table the next
day, and finding his place empty would, perhaps,
inquire for him. So he asked Jonathan to allow
him to hide himself for three days in the field, and
if, when he excused David's absence to his father,
Saul merely answered, 'Very well,' Jonathan was to
know that his father did not any longer wish to kill
David; but if he were very angry at his absence
from table, then Jonathan was to be sure he still
determined to kill him.
"Poor David said to Jonathan, after he had
arranged this plan, 'If you think I have done wrong
and deserve to die, slay me thyself; for why shouldest
thou bring me to thy father?' And Jonathan
answered, 'Far be it from thee; for if I knew that
my father certainly meant to kill thee, would I not
tell thee? Then David wondered how Jonathan
should let him know whether Saul was angry or not.
And he was also afraid whether his father might not
be angry with Jonathan, for excusing David.
"Jonathan proposed they- should go out into a
field, where they made a solemn covenant or agree-
ment, that Jonathan would tell David all he could
A Clever Plan.
find out about his father's plans. And David, on
his part, promised, if they never met again, he
would remember Jonathan; and when he came to
be king, would shew the kindness of the Lord' to
him while he lived, and to his children after him;
and you have already heard how faithfully he ful-
filled this promise in his kindness to Mephibosheth.
Now, I must tell you the clever plan these two
dear friends arranged for conveying the news to
David. Jonathan might not be allowed, perhaps,
to go to David: or his doing so might have revealed
his hiding place to Saul; so it was agreed he should
remain in concealment for three days, and then he
was to go to a certain place where there was a large
stone. Jonathan said, 'Thou shalt remain by the
stone, and I will shoot three arrows on the side
thereof, as though I shot at a mark; and behold I
will send a lad, saying, Go find the arrows. If I
expressly say to the lad, Behold, the arrows are on
this side of thee, take them; then come thou, for
there is peace to thee and no hurt, as the Lord
liveth: but if I say thus unto the young man,
Behold, the arrows are beyond thee-go thy way, for
the Lord hath sent thee away.'
So, after they had settled this plan, Jonathan
returned home, and David went to hide in the field.
You may fancy how anxiously both of them waited
for the third day. No doubt, David committed his
path to God, who had so delivered him before.
The Story of fonathan.
"As they expected, Saul inquired of Jonathan the
second day where David was, that he did not come
to table; and when Jonathan apologised for his
absence, his father was very, very angry with him;
and told him, while David lived, he would never
come to be king. This was, no doubt, why Saul
so hated him. But did this matter to Jonathan?
Oh, no! he was a man of faith. He knew it was
God's purpose that David should be king after Saul;
and he was quite satisfied to be next to him. When
he saw his father so very angry, he asked what evil
David had done, that he should be killed. This, I
suppose, made his father more angry: For what do
you think he did? He actually cast a javelin at
his son, to kill him, just as he did before at David.
By this shocking act, Jonathan saw clearly that
his father had made up his mind to kill David; and
he rose from the table in great anger, and eat no
food that day, because he was so grieved and
shocked at the unjust treatment of his beloved
"At last, the third morning arrived; and Jonathan
called a little boy to wait upon him, and went out
at the appointed time to the field he had agreed
upon with David. And he said to the boy, Run,
and find out the arrows that I shoot.' And as he
went, he shot an arrow beyond him; and when
the lad was come to the place where the arrow was
shot, Jonathan cried after the lad, and said, 'Is
not the arrow beyond thee?' And Jonathan cried
after the lad, Make speed, haste, stay not.' And
Jonathan's lad gathered up the arrows and came to
his master. But the lad knew not anything, only
Jonathan and David knew the matter.
"Poor David, when he heard the words to the
lad, how sad he must have felt! He knew he
must part from the one who loved him as his
own soul. Did they see each other to say good
bye? Yes, you shall hear. Jonathan sent the
boy home with his bow and arrows, and when he
was quite gone, David came out of his hiding
place, and they kissed one another, and wept over
one another; and at last, Jonathan reminded
David of the covenant they had made before
God, to remember each other-and then said,
'Go in peace.' And David departed, and Jonathan
returned home to the city."
THE STORY OF JONATHAN-(COntinuZed).
M E FTER this sad and sorrowful parting, the two
dear friends did not meet for some time.
Jonathan, no doubt, knew how his father was
hunting David, like a partridge on the mountains;
but he could not do anything to help him. But
one day he managed to find out his hiding place,
and he went to him, 'and strengthened his hands
in God. And he said unto him, Fear not, for the
hand of Saul my father shall not find thee; and
thou shalt be king over Israel, and I shall be next
unto thee, and that also Saul my father knoweth.'
'And David abode in the wood, and Jonathan went
to his house.'
"This was the last occasion on which these two
devoted friends met. The next time David heard
Death of Saul.
of Jonathan, that we read of, was, when a messen-
ger told him that Saul and Jonathan were both
"You may suppose what David felt on hearing
this news. He made a most touching lamentation
over them. He did not rejoice that his enemy
was dead, because Saul had been the Lord's
anointed king; and he felt it was a solemn thing
for him to be killed by the ungodly. He said in
his lamentation, 'I am distressed for thee, my
brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been
unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing
the love of women.'
"No doubt, David felt he should never find
another friend to love him as Jonathan had done.
_nd now that you have heard this story, I think
you will better understand his love to Mephibosheth,
the son of this beloved friend and brother."
"Oh yes," responded the three children, "he must
have been very glad to find out poor Mephibosheth.
And I am sure Mephibosheth must have been very
pleased to hear this story about his father."
"Why, aunty, did Jonathan give David his sword
and his bow?' asked Herbert.
"To shew his great love for him," replied Mrs.
"But, aunty, I don't think that shewed such very
"Yes, my boy, it did; he stripped himself, as I
The Story of Jonathan.
before said, for his friend. But tell me, why you do
not think it shewed great love?" added she.
"Because, aunty, I think if I had loved him very
much indeed, I would have given him the arrows as
well as the bow."*
Though the little fellow made the remark with all
gravity, clearly shewing how poor he thought the
present of the bow alone, it quite upset the gravity
of his aunt and cousins; but though the latter
laughed rather unmercifully at his objection, his
aunt soon recovered herself, and kissing his fore-
head, said, I am glad to see you think about what
you hear, Herbert, it is the only way to learn.
When we read of a bow, the arrows are always
included, my dear, simply because the one would
be quite useless without the other. So, saying
Jonathan gave him his bow, is really the same as
saying he gave him his bow and arrows. Do you
"Yes, thank you, aunt," replied the child.
Mrs. Howard then told her little girls, that
though she could excuse their smiling at their
cousin's amusing censure on Jonathan's present
to his friend; yet it was by no means a kind or
polite thing to laugh at another's mistake. If you
think for a moment, I am sure you will feel this;
for you know it is not at all pleasant to be laughed
This was the real expression of a child to the writer.
The Golden Rule.
at; and true love, you know, will always lead us
"to do unto others as we would they should do
The children kissed their cousin, and assured
him they did not mean to be unkind.
The prayer bell now reminded them it was
getting late; and rising, and closing the window,
they all obeyed the summons for evening worship.
C -? ',j"
C ^ 4 4S' 4' -' -- '- L' -
C-, "ap f 01, "
PREPARING FOR THE TREAT.
.[- i-, next morning the children awoke early,
.. !' 111l of anticipation; and were somewhat
disappointed to find a dull, hazy morning. But on
inquiring Mrs. Howard's opinion as to the proba-
bilities of a fine day, they were relieved to find that
she had more confidence in a dull, hazy morning
tL-an in a very brilliant one, which sometimes be-
comes overcast before noon.
She thought the sun would be very bright by
dinner time. And she was quite right.
The children found plenty of work to fill up the
long morning; they helped to cut up cake and
bread-and-butter; dusted all the regiments of little
mugs, that only appeared upon this grand occasion;
No Appetite for Dinner.
gathered the strawberries; put all their playthings
in apple-pie order; and amused themselves by
looking over everything again and again, that
nothing might be wanting at the time.
Ellen had been down to the school to borrow a
number of hymn books. Then their mamma had
two or three pretty little pieces for them to sing,
which they were to remember verse by verse.
One o'clock at last came; but, strange to say,
Mrs. Howard seemed the only one who wanted any
dinner, the children all declaring they had no
appetite. Herbert seemed to have caught the
infection from his cousins, and had been so busy
all the morning, that he had really forgotten himself,
and had not once wished for anything different to
what his aunt and cousins desired. This struck
Ellen and Annie very much, and upon remarking it
to their mamma, she replied,
"I am very glad to hear it, my dears; but I
think you, will generally find the best. way to cure a
selfish or bad-tempered child is to try and find them
constant occupation and interest for others. Activity
in itself, is useful to the mind; and when it is for
some one else, it helps at the same time to lead
the thoughts away from self, which is a great ad-
The little girls seemed glad to think their mamma's
plan was succeeding so well with their cousin, whom,
we must own, they did not particularly admires they
Prep-arin for the Treat.
begun to hope he might be a more pleasing com-
panion before he went home. As soon as dinner
was over, our young friends ran to the gate to see
if the long train of children was in sight; but, alas,
alas, there was nearly another hour to wait before the
appointed one of three arrived. So Mrs. Howard,
knowing that time never seems to pass so quickly
as when we are very busy, called the children to the
window, and gave them each a little book which she
advised them to read; adding, she should like to
hear what they were about in the evening, as she
had been told they were three beautiful stories.
The three children ran off to the arbour to try
and follow her advice. The little girls managed
pretty well to think about what they were reading;
but with Herbert, the case was different; he de-
clared it was impossible to read, so very soon
throwing down his little book, he made his escape,
and seeing Thomas near, with a basket in his hand,
ran off to see what he was about. To his great
delight, he found he was going to pick some ripe
gooseberries, and he invited him to help him.
Herbert did not need pressing. Thomas told him
he must not eat them, because he might make
himself ill; as he would have some for tea when
the children came, and he knew Herbert was not a
very strong boy, and not being accustomed to live
among fruit trees, he was afraid he might eat too
The First Arrival.
However, Herbert promised he would eat very
few, only just about twelve gooseberries. So they
proceeded to work.
The little girls found it rather pleasant to sit still
a little, for they had been running about all the
morning; and their little books were so very in-
teresting, that they really were surprised when they
heard the bell ring at the gate; and they quickly
bounded off, fearing the children had come, and
they had intended being down at the gate to receive
them. However, it was only their three cousins
who had arrived.
The children were very pleased to see them, and
after taking them into the school-room and dining-
room, to see how nice and pretty everything looked,
they went to look for their mamma, whom they found
resting in her own room. Upon looking at her
watch, Mrs. Howard found it was just three o'clock,
so they all walked down the lawn, to wait for the
long train to appear.
Herbert having eaten quite a dozen gooseberries,
was rather tired of picking them, and seeing his
cousins across the garden, soon joined them.
r Mi A,-4
THE SCHOOL TREAT.
ERBERT had hardly done so, when the
children all came in sight, and he very soon
had the pleasure of holding back the large gate
while they all passed through; they then all gathered
on the grass and took their seats, when Thomas
placed a large table with fruit upon it in the middle
of the lawn; and with Mrs. Howard's help, Ellen
and Annie with their cousins divided it among the
children. When they were rested and refreshed
with their fruit, they all stood up and sung the
following pretty piece of poetry.
"Morn amid the mountains,
Gushing streams and fountains,
Murmur-God is good, God is good.
Cricket and COvquet.
"Now the glad sun breaking,
Pours a golden flood;
Deepest vales awaking,
Echo-God is good, God is good.
"Hymns of praise are ringing,
Through the leafy wood;
Songsters sweetly singing,
Warble-God is good, God is good.
"Wake and join the chorus,
Man with soul imbued;
He whose smile is o'er us,
God! our God is good, God is good!"
After the singing was over, the question arose,
What would be the best amusement to begin with ?
As they numbered about fifty, they separated into
parties for different games. Some of the elder boys
declared nothing equalled cricket. They knew,
from former occasions, that Mrs. Howard possessed
bats and stumps; though only used when some of
her numerous little nephews visited her, or on this
The cricketers being drawn off into the adjoining
field, another party was formed for croquet; which
Ellen and Annie thought, from their own pleasure
in it, must be a general delight; but as the school
children had all to be taught this game, it did not
seem quite such fun at first; though after they
understood it, they seemed to agree with their
The School Treat.
young hostesses, that it was a capital game, and
none seemed to wish to exchange it for the better-
known pleasures of battledoor and shuttlecock, hide-
and-seek, or any of the other favourites that were
selected for the many little ones who were not able
to join either cricket or croquet.
As there was a discovery of hay making in the
next field to Mrs. Howard's, some thought nothing so
charming as a romp in the hay, and asked leave to go.
This was given, and very soon some of the children
were busily employed there. The men, kindly
entering into the children's pleasure, gave them
some forks to help to fill the cart; and then two of
the elder boys were allowed to drive it across the
meadow, with a group of little ones sitting and lying
on the top, who were making the air ring with their
merry voices. Then we must not forget that Annie
secretly invited some of her favourites to go with her
quietly and take a peep at all the grand display of
dolls and presents in the school room, where the
little girls gazed with wonder and delight upon the
variety of beautiful things before them, and thought
which they would like, and which they hoped might
come to their share. Annie promised she would
try and give each the one they most admired, if she
could manage it. They then ran back to the
garden, where their absence had not been dis-
covered by their numerous company.
Mrs. Howard went from one party to another,
The Duck Pond.
entering into the pleasure of each, and taking part,
first in one game then in another. Many invitations
she received from the little ones, to be their special
While all the merriment was at its height, a
scream was heard, when every eye turned towards
the side from whence the sound proceeded. Mrs.
Howard hastened forward to find out the cause of
the alarm. It was not at once discovered, as a turn
round some shrubs shut out from sight of the lawn
the little farm yard, containing cow house, duck
pond, fowl house, &c. When, however, Mrs. Howard
reached the gate of the yard, the cause of alarm
was soon seen. Three little boys were close by the
edge of the duck pond. Harry Stokes, a little
fellow of about seven years old, was looking a
miserable figure. It was very easy to see he had
been paying a visit to the ducks in the pond, as his
clothes were all soaking and his curly hair hanging
like rats' tails over his face. Two of his little
companions, Willy Thompson and Johnny Taylor,
were busily trying to wipe and dry his face 'and
hands when Mrs. Howard came up, followed by a
large number of the children. She at once saw how
the matter stood, and finding the child was safely
out of the water, her fears were relieved.
"What has happened, my dears? Why, Willy,
what has made Harry such a figure ?"
The three boys all began crying and explaining at
The School Treat.
once, so that it was quite impossible to understand
how the accident had happened. She said, therefore,
"Well! I must take Harry in to Mary and see if we
can dry his clothes, and then you shall tell me how
it all happened."
Ic^-- ---- ?-