Citation
The boys' and girls' library

Material Information

Title:
The boys' and girls' library containing a variety of useful and instructive reading, selected from eminent writers for youth
Spine title:
Parley's boys' and girls' library
Creator:
Goodrich, Samuel G ( Samuel Griswold ), 1793-1860
Collins, Henry George ( Publisher )
Monkhouse, William, 1805?-1862 ( Illustrator, Lithographer )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
H.G. Collins
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
278 <i.e. 272> p., <1> leaf of plates : ill. ; 17 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Nature -- Juvenile poetry ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1851 ( lcsh )
Family stories -- 1851 ( local )
Children's stories -- 1851 ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1851 ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1851
Genre:
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Family stories ( local )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Added title page, engraved.
General Note:
Colored frontispiece illustrated and lithorgraphed by W. Monkhouse.
General Note:
Baldwin library copy: p. 127 & 128 torn, affecting text.
General Note:
Page 193, etc. misnumbered 199, etc.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Peter Parley.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026905466 ( ALEPH )
45712392 ( OCLC )
ALH5983 ( NOTIS )

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Full Text




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LONDON,
Published by H.G. Collins.









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BOYS’ AND GIRLS’ LIBRARY ; Re

CONTAINING

A VARIETY OF USEFUL AND INSTRUCTIVE
READING, SELECTED FROM EMINENT
WRITERS FOR YOUTH,



BY PETERBrYP ARLE Y.

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CONTENTS.

Childhood ...

The Old Year and the
New Year

The Story of Edward
Lyon ; or, Confessing
a Fault

To my good Angel

Self- Denial

Henry and his Sister ...

Anna and her Kitten

Faithfulness

The Great Man

Philosophy in Common

things. — The Air
Thermometer ...
The Rabbit ...

“ Sleigh Ride ...

PAGE.

9

7 | Story of a Greyhound
The Truant
A Summer morning
Ramble ...

10
16
17
24
26
28
41

43
52
55

The Hottentots ...
“ Whispering Figure
A Story of the Sea
The Old Slate
Children, a poem
Lizzy ; a Fairy Tale
Ellen.
Philosophy in common
things.—Corking the
kettle spout up
The Lost Children
Forgiveness

A true story

The two Nosegays é

PAGE.
61
63

67
71
76
79
85
90
. 91
109

111

123
124



VI

Camgno; or, the tame
Roe ie

The Secret

Science of the Human
Frame.—tThe Skin ...

Voices from Nature

King Alfred

Grace Middleton

Shells ...

Emulation.—A_ conver-
sation between Harry
and his father

A Nurse’s Song ...

The Shepherd and the
Fairy

Simple Pleasures

The Robin’s
Bye” to little Ara-
minta

The Baby House

Fidelity and Obedience

Bessie Lee ...

The Stars.—Orion
“* Apple
** New Singing School

“Good |

FAGE,

127
131

136

142
145
148
153

155
160

161
165

171
174
183
186
200
204
208

CONTENTS.

The Balloon

Curious Little Painters

The Upas; or, Poison
Tree mn

Disobedience, and _ its
consequences ...

The Game of Weather-
cocks

Cartier. — An

James
early traveller in
America ...

Anselmo’s Escape; or,

the Dog St. Bernard
To my Boy Tom, on

giving him his first

Spelling-Book
Second Story of the Sea
The Child at Prayer ...

* Child Angel

6 OA... ui
Something about’ Dogs
The Morning Walk

* Ostrich

** Violet.— Modesty

“¢ Elephant

PAGE,

215
217

225

227

233

235



THE

BOYS AND GIRLS’ LIBRARY.

LOLLY PROPS

CHILDHOOD.

‘‘ Heaven lies about us in our infancy.”
W orDsWorTH.

‘“* My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky ;
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
So let it be when I grow old,
Or let me die.”
Iprp.

THE angel that takes care of the tender lambs and
sprinkles dew upon the flowers, in the still night,
takes care of thee, dear little one, and Jets no evil
come to thy tender years.

Fair child! when I gaze into thy soft, dark eyes,
my childhood returns, like a bright vision, and I



5 CHILDHOOD.

think of the time when every sight and every
sound in nature gave to me such sweet delight, and
all seemed so fair. I almost fancy I hear thy gen-
tle voice breathing forth thy joy in sweet and happy
words, such as little children are wont to use
when they first begin to look up into the blue sky,
to gaze upon the rainbow, or the bright clouds
that float over the moon.

The bright sun, the moon and stars, the murmur-
ing rivulet, the broad ocean heaving to and fro in
the sunlight, the thunder and the storm, the quiet
glen where I listened to the busy hum of the in-
sects, the joyous song of the birds, as they flew
from spray to spray, the odour of fresh flowers—all
filled my breast with heavenly love and peace; and
when I look into thy face, dear Sophia, I feel my
soul return to join you, and [ forget the present,
and live only in the past.

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THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW YEAR. 9

THE OLD YEAR AND THE
NEW YEAR.

BY RUFUS DAWES.

Aw old man, wrinkled with many woes,
Went trudging along through the wintry
snows;
*Twas the thirty-first of December, at night,
He had travelled far and was worn out quite.
i The clock was just on the click of twelve,
HI When the old man stopp’d and began to
" delve:
And he made a grave in the broad highway,
To be trampled upon on the coming day.
Then in he crept, and had hardly strength,
To stretch himself out at his utmost iength,
When the clock struck twelve!—at the
solemn tone,
The old man died without a groan.

Just then a youth came tripping by,

With a holiday look and a merry eye;

His back was loaded with books and toys,

Which he toss’d about to the girls and boys.

He gave one glance at the dead old man.

Then laughed aloud, and away he ran.

But when he comes back, let him laugh, if
he dare,

At the following lines which are written
there.

‘* Beneath the stone which here you view,

Lies E1géhTkEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO.

His grandfathers blundered so sadly, that he

Inherited only their penury,

With a few little play-things he’s left for his
heir,

Who will frolic awhile, and then die of care.

He lived, a wretched life, we're told.

And died at last, just twelve months old |”





10

THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON;

OR,

CONFESSING A FAULT.

“I pon’? like James Parker, and I’ll never play
with him again as long as I live,” said a little boy,
warmly, whose name was Edward Lyon.

His father, hearing the words of his son, called
him, and said,

“ Kdward, my son, what has happened to cause
you to speak so unkindly of your little playmate ?
I thought you liked James very much.”

“So I did, father ; but I don’t like him now.”

“ Why not 2” |

“ Because he got angry with me to-day, and
struck me.”

“Struck you, my son!” __

“Yes, indeed! he did so,—but I struck him

back for it !”



THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. ly

When Edward’s father heard this, he was very
much grieved. Taking his boy upon his knee, he
asked him to tell him all about his difficu!ty with
James Parker, and why James had struck him.

“Why, you see, father,” began Edward, “he
was building a house with the blocks you told us
we might have from the building, and had got it up
very high, when I told him, in fun, that I would
knock it down, and threw a great stone at it, just
by way of make believe. Somehow or other, the
stone slipped in my hand, and struck his house, and
knocked it all to pieces. But I didn’t mean to
do it. And then he came up to me, with his face
as red as blood, and struck me with all his might.”

“ And then you struck him back again ?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ And then what did he do 2”

“He doubled up his fist, as if he was going to
hit me again.”

“ But didn’t do it 2”

“No. He stopped a minute, and then began to
cry, and went off home.”

“Suppose he had struck you again—what would
you have done 2”

“T should have hit him back.”

“ Like a wicked boy, as you were, then.”

“ But he was wicked, too, father.”

“ Not so wicked as you, I think. In the first
place, it was wrong in you even to pretend that
you were going to knock his house down. Wrong



12 THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON.

in two ways. First, you told an untruth in saying
that you meant to knock it down, when you did
not intend to do so. And then you took pleasure
in seeing him troubled, lest his house, the building
of which gratified him so much, should be wantonly
destroyed. Both the feeling and act here were
evil. And my son, in indulging the one and doing
the other, was not under good influences. And
then, can you wonder that James, after what you
had said, should have believed that you knocked
his house down on purpose? You said that you
meant to do it, and then did do it. What better
evidence could he have had of your unjustifiable
trespass upon his rights? Pleased with his house,
its destruction could only arouse within him feelings
of indignation against the one who had wantonly
thrown it down. Put yourself in his place, and
think whether you would not have felt as angry
as he did; perhaps much more so. Carried away
by this feeling, he struck you. This was wrong,
but not half so much as the fact of your returning
the blow. You knew that you had given him
cause to feel incensed at your conduct, and you
ought to have borne his blow as a just punishment
for what you had done. But, instead of this, you
made the matter ten times worse by striking him
back. The fact, that he did not return your
blow, but resisted the impulse he felt to strike you
again, shows that he is a much better boy than
you are, Edward; for you have declared, that if he



THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. 13

had struck you again, you would have returned the
blow, and have fought with him, I doubt not, un-
til the one or the other of you had been beaten.”

“Tam sorry I knocked his house down,” Edward
said, as soon as his father ceased speaking, and he
hung his head and looked ashamed and troubled.
«And I was sorry the moment I saw that I had
done it.”

“Then why did you not tell him so at once ?”

“T would, if he had given me time. But he
doubled up his fist and hit me before I could
speak.”

“Still, knowing that you had provoked him to
do so, you ought to have forgiven the blow.”

“And so I would, if I had only had time to
think. But it came so suddenly”—

“ You have had time to think since, my son, and
yet you have declared that you do not like James,
and never intend playing with him again.”

“T didn’t feel right when [ said that, father. I
was angry at him. But I don’t suppose he will
ever play with me again after what has happened.”

“Why not ?”

“ Of course he is very angry with me.”

“More angry with himself for having struck
you, I expect.”

“Oh, if I thought so, I would go at once and
ask him to forgive me for knocking his house down,
and for having struck him,” Edward said, his eyes
filling with tears.



14 THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON.

“That ought not to be your reason for asking
his forgiveness, Edward.”

“ Why not, father ?”

“You should go to him and ask his forgiveness
because you are conscious of having injured him.
You ought not to think anything about what he
may think or feel, but go to him and confess your
wrong, simply because you have acted wrong.”

“ But how do I know that he will take it kindly 2”

“That you must not think of, my boy. Think
only of the fact you have injured James, and that
simple justice requires of you to repair that injury
in the best way youcan. Surely, the least you can
now do is to go to him, and tell him that you
are sorry for what you have done.”

For a time, pride and shame struggled in the
breast of Edward, but at length he made up his
mind to do as his father had proposed. He not
only saw clearly that he had been wrong, but he also
felt that he had been wrong. James Parker lived
only a little way from his father’s house, and thither
he at length turned his steps, though with reluc-
tance, for he did not know how James would re-
ceive him.

As he came into the yard of the house where
James’ father lived, he saw his little playmate
seated quietly in the door, with his face turned
away, so that he did not notice him, nor seem to
hear the sound of his footsteps, until he was close



THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. 15

to him. Then he turned quickly, and Edward saw
that he had been weeping.

“ James,” he said, holding out his hand, “I am
sorry that I knocked your house down—but I didn’t
mean to do it. And I am more sorry still that I
struck you.”

“And I have been so sorry that I struck you,
that I have cried ever since,” James said, taking
the offered hand of his young friend. “I might
have known that you did not mean to knock my
house down when you threw the stone,—that it
was an accident. But I was so angry that I didn’t
know what I was doing. I’m so glad you have
come. I wanted to see you so bad, and tell you
how sorry I was; but was afraid you would not
forgive me for having struck you.”

From that day Edward and James were firmer
friends than ever. Each forgave the other heartily,
and each blamed himself to the full extent of his
error. And besides, each learned to guard against
the sudden impulse of angry feelings, that so often
sever friends, both young and old.



16 TO MY GOOD ANGEL.

TO MY GOOD ANGEL.

Hart, protecting spirit, hail!
Guardian of my being here ;
Though my faltering footsteps fail,
And I sink in doubt and fear,

Still to cheer me
Thou art near me,
All unseen by mortal eye,—
All unheard by mortal ear ;
Thou, a spirit of the sky,
Dost protect and guide me here.

Hail, immortal spirit, hail !
When the storm is in my breast,
And the foes of peace assail,
Thou canst calm my soul to rest.
Then to cheer me
Still be near me—
Guardian angel, to me given,
Guide me still till life be o’er,
Then to that long looked-for heaven,
Let my happy spirit soar.



17

SELF-DENIAL.

THERE were two. little boys, named James and
William. One day, as they were about starting
for school, their father gave them two or three
pennies a-piece, to spend for themselves. The
little boys were very much pleased at this, and
went off as merry as crickets.

“ What are you going to buy, William?” James
asked, after they had walked on a little way.

“I don’t know,” William replied. “I have not
thought yet. What are you going to buy with
your pennies 2”

“ Why, I'll tell you what I believe Pl do. You
know ma’ is sick. Now, I think I will buy her a>
nice orange. I am sure it will taste good to her.”

“You may, if you choose, James. But I’m
going to buy some candy with my money. Pa’
gave it to me to spend for myself. If ma’ wants
an orange, she can send for it. You know she’s:
got money, and Hannah gets her everything she
wants.”

B



18 SELF-DENIAL.

“T know that,” James said. “But then, it
would make me feel so happy to see her eating an
orange that I bought for her with my own money.
She is always doing something for us, or getting
us some nice thing, and I should like to let her see
that I don’t forget it.”

“You can do as you please,” was William’s
reply to this. “For my part, I don’t often get
money to spend for myself. And now I think of
it, I don’t believe pa’ would like it if we were to
take the pennies he gave us for ourselves, and give
them away,—or, what is the same thing, give
away what we bought with them. Indeed, I’m
sure he would not.”

“T don’t think so, William,” urged James. “I
think it would please him very much. You know
that he often talks to us of the evil of selfishness.
Don’t you remember how pleased he was one day,
when a poor chimney-sweeper asked me for a piece
of cake that I was eating, and I gave him nearly
the whole of it? If that gave him pleasure, surely
my denying myself for the sake of ma’, who is sick,
would please him a great deal more.”

William did not reply to this, for he could not,
very well. Still, he wanted to spend his pennies
for his own gratification so badly, that he was not
at all influenced by what his brother said.

In a little while, the two little boys came to a
confectioner’s shop, and both went into it to spend
their money.



SELF-DENIAL. 19

“Well, my little man, what will you have?”
asked the shop-keeper, looking at William, as he
came up to the counter.

“ Give me three pennies’ worth of cream candy,”
William said.

The cream candy was weighed out, and then the
man asked James what he should get for him.

“T want a nice sweet orange, for a penny,”
said James.

“Our best oranges are twopence,” was the
reply.

“But I have only a penny, and I want a nice
orange for my mother, who is sick.”

“Do you buy it with your own money, my little
man?” asked the confectioner.

“ Yes, sir,” was the low answer.

“Then take one of the best, for your penny,
and here is some candy into the bargain.
I love to see little -boys thoughtful of their mo-
thers.” And the man patted James upon the
head, and seemed much pleased.

William felt bad when he heard what the man
said, and began to think how very much pleased
his mother would be when James took her the
orange after school.

“I wish I had bought an orange too,” he said,
as he went along, eating his candy, which did not
taste half so good as he had expected it would
taste.

Do you know why it did not taste so good? J



20 SELF-DENIAL.

will tell you. His mind was not at ease. When
our thoughts trouble us, we take little or no plea-
sure in anything. To make this still plainer, I
will just mention the case of a boy, who thought it
would be so pleasant if he could play all the time,
instead of going to school. So much did he think
about this, that one morning, he resolved that he
would not go to school when sent, but would go
out into the woods, and play all day, and be. so
happy.

So, when he started off, with his dinner in a
little basket, instead of going to the school-room,
he went to the woods.

“Oh, this is so pleasant!” he said, on first
arriving at the woods—* No books nor lessons—
no sitting still all day. Oh, I shall be so
happy !”

As he said this, the thought of his parents, and
of their grief and displeasure, if they should find
out that he had played truant, came into his mind,
and made him feel very unhappy. But he endea-
voured to forget this, and began to frisk about, and
to try his best to be delighted with his new-found
freedom. But it wasof no use. His thoughts would
go back to his parents, and to a consciousness of
his disobedience ; and these thoughts destroyed all
the pleasantness of being freed from school. At
last, he grew weary of everything around him, and
began to wish that he was again at school. But
_ he was afraid to go now, it had become so late ;



SELF-DENIAL. 21

and so he had to stay in the woods all day. It
seemed to him the longest day he had ever spent,
for the thoughts of his disobedience, and the fear
of his parents’ displeasure, if they were to find out
what he had done, prevented him from taking any
enjoyment. Oh, how glad he was, when the sun
began to go down towards the west! But. it
seemed to him that it never would get to be five
o’clock. Every man he saw with a watch he asked
the time of day, and every answer he received
disappointed him, for he was sure it must be
later.

At last the time came for him to go home. As
he drew near, he began to tremble, lest his parents
should have made the discovery that he had not
been to school. They did not know it, however,
until the little boy, to ease his troubled mind,
confessed his fault. 3 ;

Now this little boy could not enjoy himself in
the woods because his mind was not at ease. He
was not satisfied with himself. He could not
approve of his own conduct.

So it was with William. He felt that he had
been selfish, and that this selfishness would appear
when his brother carried home the orange for their
sick mother. It was for this reason that his
candy did not taste so good to him as he had
expected that it would. But James eat his with
much satisfaction.



22 SELF-DENIAL.

“T wish I had bought ma’ an orange with my
pennies,” William said, as they were going home
from school.

“JT wish you had, too,” replied his unselfish
brother, “for then we should have two to give her,
instead of one.”

“See, ma’, what a nice sweet orange I have
- bought you,” he said, as he arrived at home, and
went into his mother’s sick chamber.

“Tt is, indeed, very nice, my son, and it will
taste good to me. I have wanted an orange all
the morning. Where did you get it?”

“Pa’ gave me a penny, this morning, and I
bought it with this. I thought you would like
to have one.”

“You are very good, my son, to think of your
sick mother. And you wouldn’t spend your penny
for cake or candy; but denied yourself, that you
might get an orange for me? Mother loves you
for this manifestation of your self-denial and love
for your parent.” _ And she kissed him. .

William heard all this, and it made him feel
very bad indeed. Oh, how he did wish that he
had bought something for his mother with the
pennies his father had given him! But it was too
late now.

The pain he felt, however, was useful to him.
Tt taught him to know that we may often obtain
far greater happiness by denying ourselves for the



SELF-DENIAL. .

sake of others, than in seeking alone the gratifica-
tion of our own appetite ; and he seriously resolved
he would try in future to do better.

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HENRY AND HIS SISTER.

Sarp Henry, one day,
As from school he came in,
“Don’t you think, sister dear,
A good boy I have been,
Such a beautiful book to have gained ?

“* Just look at these pictures,
The bird on the tree,
These lambs in the meadow,
This flower, and this bee, .
With its honey from blossoms obtained.



.

HENRY AND HIS SISTER.

** And here is a story,
And here is a song ;
Let me read the story,
It won't take me long ;”
And so the nice story he read.

‘Oh, what a nice story !”
And little Jane’s smile
Played on her face,
Like a sunbeam, awhile—
“I’m so glad you were good!” then she said.



25



26

ANNA AND HER KITTEN.

Little Anna has a very pretty grey kitten ; and she
loves the kitty very much ; and the kitty loves her.
Sometimes when Anna is playing with her doll
and nine-pins, kitty puts out her paw and rolls all
the playthings about the room, but Anna does not
mind that ; she knows the little pussy does it all
for play.

One day, when Anna was alone with the kitty,
in the parlour, she made scratches on the window ;
and that wasa very naughty trick. When her
nurse came into the room, she asked Anna, “ Who
made these scratches on the window?” Little
Anna felt ashamed of the mischief. she had done;
and she did not speak a word.

The kitten was asleep in the chair; and the
nurse said, “I suppose this naughty puss did it ;”
and she took the kitten out of the chair, and told
her she must box her ears, for scratching the
window ; but little Anna began to ery; and she
ran up to her nurse, saying, “Oh, don’t whip



ANNA AND HER KITTEN. 27

little kitty; she did not scratch the window. I
did it.”

And so the nurse did not strike poor puss; and
Anna took the kitty in her arms, and smoothed her
soft grey fur, and made her very happy. Anna's
father and mother and her grandmother loved their
little girl very much, because she told the truth,
and was so kind to her good little kitten,





28



FAITHFULNESS;

OR, THE

STORY OF THE BIRD’S NEST.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN,

OnE fine spring morning a poor boy sat under a
tree, watching a flock of sheep which were feeding
in a meadow, between a clear, dancing, trout-brook,
and an old oak wood.

He ‘held a book in his hand, and was so much
engaged with it, that he scarcely looked up, ex-
cepting that from time to time he cast a quick



FAITHFULNESS. 29

glance toward the sheep, to make himself sure they
were all safe, and within bounds.

Once, as he looked up from his book, he saw
standing near him a boy, not much larger than
himself, dressed in the richest and most graceful
manner. It was the prince—the eldest son of the
king, and heir to the throne.

The shepherd-boy did not know him, but sup-
posed him to be the son of the forester, who often
came on business to the fine old hunting-tower,
which stood near by.

“Good morning, Mr. Forester,” said the shep-
herd-boy, taking off his straw hat, which, however,
he instantly’ replaced; “can I do anything for

ou ?”

“Tell me, are there any birds’ nests in these
woods?” said the prince.

“That is a droll question for. a young forest
man,” said the boy. “Dont you hear the birds
singing all around? To be sure there are birds’
nests enough here. Every bird has its own nest.”

“Then, do you know where there is a pretty
one to.be seen ?” said the prince.

“Oh, yes; I know a wonderful fine one,” said
the boy. “It is the prettiest nest I ever saw in
my life. It is made of yellow straw, and is as
smooth and neat inside, as if it had been turned in
a lathe; and it is covered all over the outside with
fine curled moss, so that you would hardly know
there was a nest there. And then, there are five



Papa
â„¢~ Rett

30 FAITHFULNESS.

eggs in it. Oh, they are so pretty! They are
almost as blue as the bright sky, which shines
through those oak leaves over head.”

“That is fine!” said the prince ; “ come, show
me this same nest. I long to see it.”

“That I can easily believe,” said the boy, “ but
_ I cannot show you the nest.”

“Ido not wish you to do it for nothing,” said
the prince, “I will reward you well for it.”

“That may be,” said the boy. “But I cannot
show it to you.”

The prince’s tutor now stepped uptothem. He
was a dignified, kind-looking man, in a plain dark
suit of clothes. The little shepherd had not before
observed him. e

“Be not disobliging, my lad,” said he. “The
young gentleman here has never seen a bird’s nest,
although he has often read of them, and he wishes
very much to see one. Pray, do him the kindness
to lead him to the one you have mentioned, and let
him see it. He will not take it away from you.
He only wishes to look at it. He will not even
touch it.”

The shepherd-boy stood up respectfully, but said,
“I must stick to what I have said, I cannot show
the nest.”

“That is very unfriendly,” said the tutor. «It
should give you great pleasure to be able to do
anything to oblige our beloved prince Frederick.”

“Is this young gentleman the prince ?” cried the



FAITHFULNESS. 31

young shepherd, and again took off his hat; but
this time he did not put it on again. “I am very
much pleased to see the prince, but that bird’s
nest I cannot show any one, no'not even the king
himself.”

“Such a stiff-necked, obstinate boy I never saw
in my life,” said the prince, pettishly. “But we
can easily find means to compel him to do what
we wish.” ; |

“ Leave it to me, if you please, my dear prince,”
said the tutor; “there must be some cause for
this strange conduct.” Then, turning to the boy,
he said, “Pray tell us what is the reason you will
not show us that nest, and then we will go away
and leave you in peace. Your behaviour seems
very rude and strange; but if you have any good
reason for it, do let us know it.”

“Hum !” said the boy; “that I can easily do.
Michel tends goats there over the mountains. He
first showed me the nest, and I promised him that
I never would tell anybody where it was.”

“This is quite another thing,” said the tutor.
He was much pleased with the honesty of ‘the
boy; but wished to put it to further proof. He
took a piece of gold from his purse, and said—

“See here! this piece of gold shall be yours, if
you will show us the way to the nest. You need
not tell Michel that you have done it, and then he
will know nothing about it.”

“Kh! thank you all the same,” said the boy.”



32 FAITHFULNESS.

“Then I should be a false rogue, and that will I
not be. Michel might know it or not. What
would it help me, if the whole world knew nothing
about it, if God in heaven and myself knew that
was a base, lying fellow? Fie!” .

“ Perhaps you do not know how much this piece
of gold is worth,” said the tutor. “If you should
change it into coppers, you could not put them all
into your straw hat, even if you should heap them
u ie
“Ts that true?” said the boy, as he looked
anxiously at the piece of gold. “Oh, how glad
my poor old father would be, if I could earn so
much!” He looked thoughtful a moment, and
then cried out, “No—take it away!” Then,
lowering his voice, he said, “The gentleman must
forgive. He makes me think of the bad spirit in
the wilderness, when he said, ‘all this will I give
thee.” Short and good, I gave Michel my hand
on it, that I would not show the nest to any
one. well.” |

He turned, and would have gone away, but tlie
prince’s huntsman, who stood near and listened to
what passed, came up, and clapped him on the
shoulder, said, in a deep bass voice, “ I]l-mannered
booby! is this the way you treat the prince, who
is to be our king? Do you show more respect to
the rude goat-herd over the mountains, than to
him? Show the bird’s nest, quick, or I will hew



FAITHFULNESS. So

a wing out of your body.” As he said this he
drew his hanger.

The poor boy turned pale, and with a trembling
voice cried out, “Oh, pardon! I pray for pardon !”

“Show the nest, booby,” cried the hunter, “or
I will hew !” |

The boy held both hands before him, and looked
with quivering eyes on the bright blade, but still
he cried, ia an agitated voice, “Oh, I cannot! I
must not! I dare not do it !”

“Knough! enough!” eried the tutor. “Put up
your sword and step back, Mr. Hunter. Be quiet,
my brave boy. No harm shall be done you. You
have well resisted temptation. You are a noble
soul! Go, ask the permission of your young
friend, and then come and show us the nest. You
shall share the piece of gold between you!”

“Good! good!” said the boy, “this evening I
will have an answer for you !”

The prince and tutor went back to the castle, to
which they had come thegday before, to enjoy the
season of spring.

“The nobleness of that boy surprises me,” said
the tutor, as they went along. “He isa jewel
which cannot be too much prized. He has in him
the elements of a great character. So we may
often find, under the thatched roof, truth and
virtues which the palace does not often present to
view.”

After they returned, the tutor inquired of the

C



34 FAITHFULNESS.

steward if he knew anything about the shepherd-
boy.

“He isa fine boy,” said the steward. “ His
name is George. His father is poor, but is known
all around for an honest, upright, sensible man.”

After the prince’s studies were ended for the
day, he went to the window, and immediately said,
« Aha, the little George is waiting for us. He tends -
his small flock of sheep by the wood, and often

- Jooks toward the castle.”

“Then we will go and hear what answer he
brings us,” said the tutor.

They left the castle together and went to the
place where George tended his sheep.

When he saw them moving he ran to meet them,
and called out joyfully—*It is all right with
Michel; he called me a foolish boy, and scolded
me for not showing you the nest at first, but, it is
better that I should have asked his leave. I can
now show it to you with pleasure. Come with me,
quick, Mr. Prince.” |

George led the way, on the run, to the oak
wood, and the prince and tutor followed more slowly.

“ Do you see that yellow bird on the alder twig,
that sings so joyfully ?” said George to the prince.
«That is the manikin! the nest belongs to him.
Now we must go softly.” |

In a part of the woods where the oak trees
were scattering, stood a thicket of white thorns,
with graceful, shining green leaves, thickly orna-



FAITHFULNESS. 35

mented with clusters of fragrant blossoms, which
glittered like snow in the rays of the setting sun.

Little George pointed with his finger into the
thicket, and said, softly, to the prince, “There!
peep in once, Mr. Prince! the lady bird is sitting
on her eggs.”

The prince looked, and had the satisfaction of
seeing her on her nest. They stood quite still, but
the bird soon flew away, and the prince, with the
greatest pleasure, examined the neat, yellow straw
nest, and the smooth, blue eggs. The tutor made
many excellent remarks, and gave the prince some
information in the meantime.

“ Now come with us, and receive the money we
promised you,” said the tutor to George. “But
the gold piece will not be so good for you as silver
money.”

He took out his purse and counted down on a
stone, before the astonished George,” the worth of
the gold piece in bright new shillings.

“Now divide fairly with Michel!” said the
prince.

“Qn honour!” answered George; and sprang,
with the money, out of their sight.

The tutor afterwards inquired whether George
had divided the money equally with Michel, and
found he had not given him a piece too little. His
own part, he carried to his father, and had not kept
a penny to himself.

Prince Frederick went every day to the bird’s



36 FAITHFULNESS.

nest. At first, the birds were a little afraid of
him, but when they saw that he did not disturb
them, they lost their fear, and went and came
freely, before him.

The prince’s delight was full when he saw how
the Jittle birds crept from their shells. How they
all opened their yellow bills and piped loud, when
the parents brought their food. How the young
nestlings grew, were covered with soft down, and
then with feathers; and at length, one day, amid
the loud rejoicings of the parents, they ventured
their first flight to the nearest twig of the thorn-
tree, where the old birds fed them tenderly.

The prince and his tutor often met little George
as he tended his sheep, while they strayed,—now
here, now there. The tutor was much pleased to
observe that he always had his book with him, and
spent all his spare time in reading,

“You know how to amuse yourself in the best
manner, George,” said he to the boy. -“I should
be pleased to hear you read a little from that book
which you love so well.”

George read aloud, with great zeal, and although
he now and then miscalled a word, he did his best,
and the tutor was pleased.

“That is very well,” said he. “In what school
did you learn to read 2”

“ T have never been in any school,” said George,
sadly. “The school is too far off, and my father
had no money to pay for it. Besides, I have not



FAITHFULNESS. 37

any time to go to school. In summer I tend the
sheep, and in winter I spin at home. But my good
friend, Michel, can read very well, and he has
promised to tell me all he knows. He taught me
all the letters, and the lines of spelling. . This is
the same book that Michel learnt from. He gave
it to me, and I have read it through three times.
To be sure, it is so worn out now, that you cannot
see all the words, and it is not so easy to read
as it was.”

The next time the prince came to the woods, he

, Showed George a beautiful book, bound in gilded
morocco.

“TI will lend you this book, George,” said the
prince, “and as soon as you can read a whole page
without one mistake, it shall be yours.”

Little George was much delighted, and took it
with the ends of his fingers, as carefully as if it
had been made of a spider-web, and could be as
easily torn,

The next time they met, George gave the book
to the prince, and said, “I will try to read any
page that you may please to choose from the first
six leaves.” The prince chose a page, and George
read it without making a mistake. So the prince

_ gave him the book for his own.

One morning the king came to the hunting
castle on horseback, with only one attendant. He
wished to see, by himself, what progress his son
was making in his studies. At dinner, the prince



38 FAITHFULNESS.

gave him an account of the bird’s nest, and the
noble conduct of the little shepherd.

“In truth,” said the tutor, “that boy is a pre-
cious jewel. He would make «4 most valuable ser-
vant for our beloved prince; and as God has en-
dowed him with rare qualities, it is much to be
wished that he should be educated. His father is
too poor to do anything for him; but with all his
talents and nobleness of character, it would be a
pity, indeed, that he should be left here, to make
nothing but a poor shepherd like his father.”

The king arose from table, and called the tutor
toa recess of one of the windows, where they
talked long together. After it was ended, he sent
to call George to the castle.

Great was the surprise of the poor shepherd-boy,
when he was shewn into the rich saloon, and saw
the dignified man, who stood there, with a glittering
star on his breast. The tutor told him who the
stranger was, and George bowed himself almost to
the earth.

“My good boy,” said the king in a friendly
tone, “I hear you take great pleasure in reading
your book. Should you like to study ?”

“Ah! said George, “if nothing was wanting
but my liking it, I should be a student to-day. But
my father has no money. That is what is wanting.”

“Then we will try whether we can make a stu-
dent of you,” said the king. “The prince’s tutor
here has a friend, an excellent country curate, who



FAITHFULNESS. 39

takes well-disposed boys into his house to educate.
To this curate I will recommend you, and will be
answerable for the expenses of your education.
How does the plan please you ?”

The king expected that George would be very
much delighted, and seize his grace with both
hands. And, indeed, he began to smile at first,
with much seeming pleasure, but immediately after,
a troubled expression came over his face, and he
looked down in silence.

“ What is the matter ?” said the king ; “ you look
more like crying than being pleased with my offer,
let us hear what it is ?”

“Ah! sir,” said George, “my father is so poor
what [ earn in summer by tending sheep, and in
winter by spinning, is the most that he has to
live on. To be sure it is little, but he cannot do
without it.”

“You are a good child,” said the king, very
kindly. ‘ Your dutiful love for your father is more
precious than the finest pearl in my casket. What
your father loses by your changing the shepherd’s
crook and spinning-wheel, for the book and pen,
I will make up with him. Will that do?’

George was almost out of his senses for joy. He
kissed the king's hand, and wet it with tears of
gratitude, then darted out to carry the joyful news
to his father. Soon, father and son both returned,
with their eyes full of tears, for they could only ex-
press their thanks by weeping. When George’s



40 FAITHFULNESS.

education was completed, the king took him into
his service, and after the king's death, he became
counsellor to the prince—his successor.

His father's last days were easy and happy, by
the comforts which the integrity of the poor shep-
herd-boy had procured him.

Michel, the firm friend, and first teacher of the
prince’s favourite, was appointed to the place of
forester, and fulfilled all his duties well and faith-

Sully.





4]

THE GREAT MAN.
WRITTEN FOR VERY YOUNG READERS.

I wit tell you a tale of a great man who loved
justice.

He had two sons whom he also loved.

Now, he had himself made a law, that whoever
sought to harm the peace of the country where he
lived, should die.

There was a sad cabal against the peace of the
country soon after the law was made:

And the great man’s two dear sons were at the
head of this wicked party. Their names were in
the list of bad men.

This great man loved justice more than he loved
his two sons.

He, therefore, made firm his heart, and sat upon
his rich throne, and gave the word that his two
sons shouldbe brought before him ;

And he passed sentence on them, as he would
have done on strangers :

_ For, he thought, why should they not suffer for
their faults ?



49 THE GREAT MAN.

We punish the poor and ignorant for their
crimes :

So, it is just that we should punish the rich and
those who know better, too. 3

And this great man gave orders that his sons
should be beaten with rods; and that then their
heads should be cut off.

And there he sat upon his seat, as judge,—pale
and cold, but firm and brave.

And when all was past—when both his sons
were dead, and their warm blood lay shed on the
ground before him :

Then, when the judge had done his duty, but
not before, he gave way to the love of the fatlrer.

He arose and left his seat ;

Ife went to his own house, and, there wept and
mourned many days. |

The name of this great man was Brutus.

Think upon his name, but think more of the true
love of justice and judgment. °

This little tale is a fact that happened at Rome.

You have heard of Rome, I dare Say; and you
will know more of it as you grow up.



43

PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.
THE AIR THERMOMETER.

It is a very good amusement for ingenious boys at
home, in the long winter evenings, to construct
such philosophical instruments, or perform such
experiments, as are practicable, with such materials
and means as are within their reach. It is true,
that this may sometimes make parents or an older
sister some trouble, but with proper care on the
part of the young philosophers, this trouble will not
be great, and parents will generally be willing to
submit to it for the sake of having their children
engaged in an entertaining and instructive employ-
ment. We shall, therefore, give our readers such
lessons in practical philosophy, as we suppose may
be of use. In this article we will show them how
they may, with few materials and ordinary in-
genuity, construct an Air thermometer.

The materials which will be wanted are these :—



44 PHILOSOPHY AT HOMER.

a glass phial_—one that is broad at the base in
proportion to its height, so as to stand firm, is
desirable,—a glass tube of small bore, six or eight
inches long,—a cork to fit the mouth of the phial,
—a little sealing-wax, a lamp, and a small pitcher
of water. The work may be safely done upon the
parlour-table, previded that the materials are all
placed upon a large tea-tray, with an old newspaper,
or a sheet of wrapping-paper spread over it. The
paper will then’ intercept any drops of hot sealing-
wax which may chance to fall, and which might
otherwise injure the tray, and the tray itself will
receive whatever may be spilt.

The only article of the above materials in
regard to which the reader will have any difficulty,
1s the tube. Such a tube, however, can usually
be procured at an apothecary’s, at a very trifling
expense. One about the dimensions of a pipe-
stem will be best. In constructing the instru-
ment, this tube is to be passed down through
the cord, which is to be placed in the neck of
the phial, the lower end to go below the surface
of a little water, which is to be put in the bottom
of the phial.

The appearance of the instrument, when com-
pleted and fitted with a scale, as will be explained
hereafter, is represented in the annexed wood-cut.
In. constructing the instrument, the operations, or
the manipulations, as the philosophers call them,
are,



THE AIR THERMOMETER. 45

First, to bore a hole through the cork,
to receive the tube. 3

Second, to cement the tube into the
cork.

Third, to cement the cork into the
phial.

1. The first thing is to bore a hole
through the cork, and this must be just
large enough to admit the glass tube.—
After turning in the gimlet a little way,
: it should be drawn out straight, by which
means the chips will be drawn out, and then it
should be put in again. For a gimlet will not clear
its own way in cork, as it will in wood. By draw-
ing it out, however, in the manner above described,
taking care to operate gently, so as-not to split the
cork, and to guide the gimlet straight through the
centre of the cork, the hole may be bored without
much difficulty. If the hole is not quite large
enough, it may be widened by a penknife which
has a narrow blade, or it may be burnt out to a
proper size with a hot knitting-needle, or a piece
of iron wire. And thus the hole is bored through
the cork.

2. The next thing is to cement the tube to the
cork. In order to do this, the water is first to be
poured into the phial. About-one quarter or one
fifth as much as the phial will contain, will be
sufficient. When this is done, the neck of the
phial inside should be wiped dry, for the cork is to





46 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

be sealed into it, and unless the glass is dry, the
sealing-wax will not adhere. Then the tube is to
be passed through the cork, and the cork put into
its place, and the tube slippped down until the
lower end reaches below the surface of the water,
and nearly touches the bottom of the phial. Ob-
serve, then, at what part of the tube the cork
comes, for this part is to be heated, and covered
with sealing-wax, in order to seal if into the cork.
It may be marked with a touch of ink from a pen,
at a point just above where it issues from the cork.
Then take out the cork with the tube from the
phial, and slip the cork along down towards the
lower end of the tube, so that you can put the wax
upon the glass.

In order to cover the part of the tube, which is
to pass through the cork, with sealing-wax, it must
be heated ; for sealing-wax will not adhere to glass,
or any other smooth or hard substance, if it is cold.
To heat glass requires some care. It must be
heated gradually, and one part must not be made
very hot, while the adjoining parts remain cold;
for glass will not bear sudden changes of tempera-
ture, or a great difference of temperature in conti-
guous parts. Therefore, in heating the glass, you
must proceed gradually. Hold the part over the
flame of a lamp, but not so as to touch the flame,
and move it backward and forward, so as to warm
a portion of one or two inches in length, equally.
Then you can hold it more steadily, in such a



THE AIR THERMOMETER. 47

manner as to heat the central portion. As you
do this, hold a stick of sealing-wax, so as to touch
the hottest part of the glass with it occasionally,
that is, the part immediately below the ink mark.
When the glass is hot enough to melt the sealing-
wax, the glass will coat itself with the wax. After
holding it a moment over the flame, turning it
round and round, so as to melt all parts of the wax
equally, the cork is to be slipped back again over
it-into its place, where it will become firmly fixed,
as the work cools. Thus the tube will be cemented
into the cork. .

3. Nothing now remains but to cement the
cork into the neck of the phial. The cork ought
to be of such a size, that it will go well down into
the neck of the phial, so as to have the top of it
a little below the upper part of the neck. For the
whole of the upper part of the cork ought to be
covered with sealing wax, in order to make it air
tight, and this can be best done if the glass rises a
little above the top of the cork. If necessary,
therefore, the upper part of the cork must be
carefully removed with a penknife, and then, when
it is properly fitted, the sides may be covered with
sealing wax, by heating the wax in the lamp and
rubbing it on all around. When it is covered
with a thin coat of wax, it should be held over the
lamp a moment, turning it round and round, until
it is melted in every part; and the neck of the
phial should be heated in the same gradual and



48 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. |

cautious manner recommended in the ease of the
tube. When both are of the proper temperature,
the cork must be pressed down into its place.
Before the wax cools, see that the bottom of
the tube does not quite touch the bottom of the
phial, and observe also that the tube stands*per-
pendicular. If it does not, it may be gently
pressed to one side or the other, as may be re-
quired, and held so until the wax has cooled, when
it will retain its position. The top of the cork
must then be covered with sealing wax, and the
surface smoothed by holding it over a lamp until

its inequalities run together. Thus the cork will.

be cemented into the phial, and the air thermome-
ter completed, with the exception of the scale.
And the following experiments can be performed
with it :—

Exp. 1. On examining the instrument, it will
be observed that there is a portion of air closely
confined in the upper part of the phial. It cannot
escape up the tube, for the water covers the
lower end of the tube. If now the instrument
is put into a warm place, so as to expand this
body of air within the phial, the force of the
expansion will press against the water, and cause a
portion of it to rise in the tube. When so much
water has thus ascended as is necessary to allow
such a degree of additional space within, as will
enable the expansive furce of the air within exactly
to balance the pressure in the top of the tube from



THE AIR THERMOMETER. 49

without, the water will remain at rest. If now
the air is warmed still more, the expansion will
cause the water to rise still higher, until the two
forces are again in equilibrium.

Exp. 2. When the water has been forced into
the tube as high as it will rise under the greatest
heat to which it is safe to expose it, it may be
carried again into a cool place. The heat
which was in the air and the glass will now
pass off, and the air within will lose some
of its expansive force, and will evince a tendency
to return to its former dimensions. This will be
shown by the subsidence of the water in the tube. -
Thus by carrying the instrument successively into
warm and cold places, the surface of the water in
the tube will be found to rise and fall, thus indi-
cating, by the level at which it stands, the tempera-
ture of the air around it, at its several places of
exposure. A scale for this thermometer may be
formed of pasteboard, and fastened to the tube by
threads or slits in the pasteboard, or, in any other
convenient manner.

Exp. 3. When the instrument is cooled, the
water in the tube does not simply fall by its own
weight. It is foreed down by the pressure of the
outward atmosphere. For although the expansive
force of the air within is diminished by the cold,
there is stilk force left, far more than sufficient to
counteract the weight of the water. So that

the water descends, not by its own weight, but by
D



50 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

the pressure of the atmosphere without, acting upon
the surface of the water in the tube. This may be
proved in the following manner. Raise the water
in the tube as high as possible, by placing the in-
strument before the fire, and then stop the upper
end of the tube with the thumb, or a little hot
sealing-wax. Now, ifthe thermometer be taken to
a cool place, it will be found that the water will
not fall. The pressure from above in the tube
being taken off, the water is kept up by the ex-
pansive force which still remains in the air within.
When the stopper is removed from the tube, so as
to allow the external atmosphere to press upon
the water again, it will immediately subside.
Exp.4. Whatever may have been the tempera-
ture of the room where the thermometer was made,
the water in the tube will be, when at that tem-
perature, just level with the water in the phial;
and of course, when it begins to rise, it will be
some little time before it gets up above the neck of
the phial. Now as it can be seen better above the
neck of the phial than below, it is convenient to
have the instrument so adjusted, as to have the sur-
face of the water in the tube always kept above.
This can be effected by forcing a little more air
into the phial, thus increasing the expansive force
within. A few bubbles of air may be blown in
with the breath, by applying the mouth to the top
of the tube. This will add to the force within, so
that, even when the thermometer is cold, the



THE AIR THERMOMETER. 51

water will stand in the tube above the neck of
the phial, and all the changes that take place will
be above that level, where they can be easily seen.

Exp. 5. Place the mouth at the top of the
tube, and blow down into it as long and as hard
as youcan. By this means you will force air in,
until the expansive force within is increased so
much that you cannot any longer overcome it.
Then, before taking the mouth away, stop the up-
per part of the tube with the thumb. You will
now have so great a quantity of air within, that it
will probably have force enough to raise the water
higher than the top of the tube. If so, on taking
away the thumb the water will spout out at the
top, in a jet,—doing no harm, however, except to
sprinkle the spectators. After a few such experi-
ments, you will find that the water has spouted
itself all out, and you will be sadly puzzled to know
how to get more in without taking out the cork.
There is a very easy way, if you only had philoso-
phical knowledge enough to discover it.







THE RABBIT.

A STORY FOR LITTLE READERS.

“ Henry, dear, do come out to walk, this beautiful
afternoon. Jam going, and do not want to go
alone; please come, won't you 2”



THE RABBIT. 53

“ Supposing I should say, No; I won’t go; what
would you do, sister 2”

“TI should say, well, suit yourself, brother Henry,
and [ll try to go alone; but I do wish you would
go with me, it is so pleasant to have some one, and
I would rather have you than any one else.”

“ Well, you are a darling, good little girl, and I
will go with you.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Henry,” said
Caroline ; and they were soon in the shady lane
which extended from their father’s house to their
uncle’s, who was their next neighbour.

Caroline and Henry wandered on, admiring the
beautiful things which surrounded them, and now
and then stopping to pick a flower. Often Caro-
line would leave Henry, examining some plant,
(for he was quite a botanist,) and walk along
without him.

“Come, Henry; let us walk as far as the brook,
and then we'll go home.”

“ Just wait till I see what this curious flower ie”
said Henry. But Caroline did not mind him, and
continued walking slowly along, that he might catch
up with her, when he was ready. Presently she .
stopped ; her eyes sparkled, and she almost screamed
with delight ; for, on the ground before her, was
a beautiful white rabbit. She held her breath for
fear of frightening it; but though she drew nearer
the dear little creature did not seem disposed to run
away ; and she soon perceived that it had hurt its



54. THE RABBIT.

foot very much, so that it could not walk. Caroline
took the rabbit in her arms, and as she was quite
near the brook, she thought she would give it
some water; so she stepped on the little bridge,
but when there, she found that she had no means
of getting any, and she called aloud :

“ Henry, come quick; I have found a rabbit al-
most dead; come quick.” Henry was soon at her
side. “Let me see,” said he; and he bent for-
ward to look at it. “ Poor little thing, we will take
you home and nurse you till you are well again.”

“Dont you think, brother, that it would drink
some water 2”

“ No, no; we had better take it home at once,
and mother will tell us what to do.” And the two
children hastened home with all speed. Their kind
mother gave them directions for their new-found
pet, and in a week it was quite well, and their
parents gave them leave to keep it to play with,
after they had learned their lessons, and as long as
they were kind towards this curious little creature.




\ 4

WI ‘I “7
WA ® hye
Nm jas

f “ o



55

THE SLEIGH RIDE.

“On, I'm afraid! I'm afraid!” William Jones cried,
shrinking back, as his father took his hand, in thé
act of leading him forward to lift him into a beauti-
ful sleigh, that had just drove up to the door, and
in which his mother and elder sister were already
seated; their feet comfortably wrapped up ina
warm buffalo robe.

“ Afraid! what are you afraid of?” Mr. Jones
asked, in a tone of surprise.

“Oh, Im afraid the horses will run away—or
that the sleigh will break. Irdeed, I’d rather not
go.”

“ Do you not think that your mother, and sister
Ellen, and myself, will be in just the danger you
fear ?”

“ Yes.”

“ And is not my son willing to share that danger
with those he loves 2”

“But why do you go, father, when there is
danger 2” |

“ We do not think that we shall be in any more



56 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

real danger, while riding with two gentle horses,
than we would be if we were sitting in the house,
or walking in the street. But come, William; I
cannot stand talking to you here; and it is quite
necessary that you try to overcome your fears. So
jump in, and take your place alongside of sister
Ellen.”

“ But, indeed, { would rather not go, father,”
William urged, holding back. | 7

Mr. Jones said no more, but took his boy up
gently, though firmly, and placed him beside his
sister. ‘Then he got in himself,—took hold of the
reins,—spoke to his two fine horses, and at once
the whole party began to move off; the sleigh bells
jingling a merry tune.

Poor little William clung, frightened, to his sis-
ter; and it was a good while before he could get
over the idea that the very next moment they
would all be thrown over and dashed to pieces.
After a while, however, he got used tothe motion
of the sleigh, and seeing that they passed on so
smoothly, safely, and merrily, the idea of danger
gradually faded from his mind; and long before he
reached his uncle’s house, he was enjoying the ride
as much as the rest.

William’s cousins were all delighted to see him,
and he spent with them one of the happiest days in
his life.

And when the time came for Mr. Jones and
his family to return, William parted, with a feeling



THE SLEIGH RIDE. 57

of reluctance, from his happy playmates. As he
again stood by the sleigh, and looked at the two
stout horses that were harnessed to it, he felt his
old fear stealing over his mind. But he was not
only now ashamed of that fear, but felt that to
indulge in it was not right. So, with his best
effort, he restrained it—stepping resolutely into
the sleigh.

The last “ good-byes” said, Mr. Jones gave the
word, and off they went. When about half of the
way home, and at a time when even the lingering
remains of William’s timidity had passed away,
two wild young men, half intoxicated, came dash-
ing along in another sleigh, at a most furious rate.
Bent on mischief, and thoughtless of the harm
they might occasion, they appeared determined to
frighten the horses attached to other sleighs, and
thereby cause those who were in them to be thrown
out into the snow-banks.

It so happened that the sleigh in which were
Mr. Jones and-his family, were passing near a
steep declivity, at the time these young men came
up to them, and ran their horses so close upon
those of Mr. Jones, that he was compelled either
to be rolled down the bank, or receive the shock
of their sleigh against his own. He chose the
latter alternative. As the two vehicles struck
each other, that of Mr. Jones was nearly thrown
Over, and it so happened that Ellen, who was
much alarmed, lost her balance, and but for the



58 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

fact that William, himself dreadfully frightened,
seized hold of, and clung to her with all his
strength, she would have been thrown down a
very steep hill, and, perhaps, have been killed.
As it was, however, no one was injured.

“Tf it hadn’t been for me,” William said,
while they were all talking over the matter, on
arriving at home, “ Ellen would have been pitched
head foremost down that steep bank.”

“ But if you had staid at home,” his father re-
marked, “it would not have been in your power
thus to have saved, perhaps, your sister’s life.
And now, ant you glad, my son, you were with
us ?”

“ Yes, father, I am very glad now.”

“Suppose, William,” Mr. Jones asked, in a
serious tone, “that in the effort to save your
sister, you had yourself been thrown out of the
sleigh, and badly hurt, would you then have been
sorry that you went with us ?”

William paused for some moments, with a
thoughtful countenance. He was weighing the fear
of bodily pain against his love for Ellen. At last
he said, with the moisture dimming his eyes,

* No! I would not have been sorry, father.”

“ Why not, William ?”

* Because, I would only have been badly hurt ;
while, if I had not been along with her, sister
might have been killed.”

“ Very true, my dear boy! And now, you re-



THE SLEIGH RIDE. 59

member how often I have talked to you about
selfishness, and what an evil thing this selfish-
ness is 2”

“ Yes, father.”

“Well, this feeling of timidity, which you in-
dulge so much, is a selfish feeling.”

“ Selfish, father! How can that be 2”

“ Because there is nothing in it of self-sacrifice
for the happiness or comfort of others.”

“T cannot understand you, father.”

“T do not know that it will be in my power to
make you understand me fully, William. But I
will try. You knew, this morning, that it would
give your father and mother pleasure to have you
with them, and also that your cousins would be
delighted to see you. But your idle fear, lest some
accident should happen, made you unwilling to go.
You would not risk anything for the sake of others.
If the great and good General Washington, when
called upon to take command of the American
army, had refused to do so, because there was
danger of his being killed; cannot you see that in
that feeling there would have been a strong prin-
ciple of selfishness ?”

“Qh, yes. If he had done so, he would have
been very selfish. He would have thought more
of personal safety that the good of his country.”

“Just so, William, will you think, when you
grow up to be a man, if you do not conquer this
timid feeling, which you now indulge. You must



60 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

learn, for the good of others, to risk personal
danger, and to be willing to bear pain of body as
well as mind, if called upon to suffer while doing
your duty to others. Of danger, it is not our place
to think, when fully satisfied we are doing right ;
knowing that the Lord’s providence is over all, and
that He will not suffer any harm to befall us that
is not really for our good. Learn, also, this harder
lesson,—a willingness to encounter bodily pain, and
even great danger, for the good of others.”

tone

we
Mt)

| 7
a i
» me ay wr





61



STORY OF A GREYHOUND.

LLEWELLYN, son-in-law to King John, had in his
possession one of the finest greyhounds in England.
His name was Gelert. One day Llewellyn, going
out to hunt, called all his dogs together; but his
favourite greyhound was missing, and nowhere to be
found. He blew his horn as a signal of the chase,
and still Gelert came not. Llewellyn was much
disturbed at this, but at length pursued the chase
without him. |

For want of Gelert, the sport was limited ; and
getting tired, Llewellyn returned home at an early
hour, when the first object that presented itself to
him at his castle gate, was Gelert, who bounded
with his usual transport to meet his master—having
his lips besmeared with blood. Llewellyn gazed
with surprise at the strange appearance of his dog.
But on going into the apartment where he had left
his infant son asleep, he found the bedclothes all



62 THE GREYHOUND.

in confusion, the cover rent, and stained with blood.
He called on his child, but no answer was made:
from which he concluded that the dog must have
devoured him, and, without waiting to reflect, or
examine, plunged his sword to the hilt in Gelert’s
side. The noble dog fell at his feet, uttering a
dying yell which awoke the infant, who was sleep-
ing beneath a heap of mingled bedclothes; while
under the bed lay a great wolf, covered with gore,
which the faithful and gallant hound had destroyed.

Llewellyn, smitten with sorrow and remorse for
the rash and frantic deed which had deprived him
of so faithful an animal, caused an elegant marble
monument, with an appropriate inscription, to be
erected over the spot. where Gelert was buried, to
commemorate his fidelity and unhappy fate. The
place, to this day, is called Beth-Gelert, or “The
grave of the greyhound.”





63

THE TRUANT.

[ RECEIVED part of my education at a beautiful
town on the banks of the river Trent. It was
here, while a boy, that I first learned the danger of
disobedience. ‘The precept had been instilled in
my mind a thousand times, and | knew it was the
command of heaven that we should respect and
obey our parents and teachers ; but I had never felt
either the danger or the criminality of a disre-
gard of the Divine command till after the following
event.

It was December; and the river, on whose
beautiful banks the academy was situated, was
frozen over, so that people could travel, and sport
upon it in safety. It was a favourite diversion of
the students, most of whom were between ten and
fifteen years old, to play ball upon the ice, upon
skates; and many times nearly the whole school,
consisting of fifty youths, was collected in one game
on the glassy surface of the frozen stream. We
grew, at length, so fond of this recreation, that we
began to encroach upou the hours of study. The



64 THE TRUANT.

bell rang unheeded, and when we came into school,
we were, as we deserved to be, reprimanded by
our good and indulgent preceptor ; and many of our
number, ashamed of their behaviour, refused to
offend in like manner again. It was not so with
us all.

One day, a part of our number having staid out
upon the river more than a quarter of an hour after
the bell had done ringing, one of the boys was sent
for us; but we soon forgot that we had been called,
and continued our game. Shortly we saw the pre-
ceptor, himself, coming down to the river. We
were then alarmed; and all, but myself and
Nathaniel Beecher, ran, by a round-about way, to
the shore and to school. We resolved to stay the
whole afternoon. The preceptor came out upon
the wharf, and called to us to come to him. Fear-
ing that we should be taken back to school and
punished, we resolved not to answer, and pretended
not to hear him. After repeatedly calling us, and
receiving no answer, he came upon the ice; but when
he had walked a short distance from the shore we
saw that we were in no danger of his catching us,
as the ice was very smooth. At length, in an at-
tempt to catch me, the preceptor slipped and fell
heavily upon the ice. I stood still, and dared not
go near, for fear he would punish me; but I
was now verysorry for what we haddone. Our
preceptor had always been kind to us, and my feel-
ings were hurt to think [had been so ungrateful.



THE TRUANT. 65

Meantime he had got up, and with a painful effort
walked to the shore. I followed him, and Nat
went off towards the other side of the river. As I
approached the shore, I turned to see where he
was going, continuing to skate backwards as I
looked. Suddenly I found myself in the water. I
had fallen into a hole which had been eut for fish-
ing. As I dropped I threw out my arms, and thus
sayed myself from going under; but the current
was very strong, and it was with the utmost diffi-
culty that I could hold myself above the water. I
felt as though some evil spirit beneath the water
was dragging me under, and my heart sunk within
me. At length I was drawn out of the water by
my preceptor. He spoke kindly to me, and said he
would take me home, that I might change my
clothes. I was very much affected. I had pre-
pared myself to bear my well-merited punishment;
. but when I heard his kind and gentle tones, and
saw that he was not angry, I burst into a passionate
flood of tears, and, dropping on my knees, begged
his pardon for my bad behaviour. He took me
up at once, and told me never to kneel but to the
Lord, that he would forgive me. We had nearly
reached the shore, when I looked round for Nat.
He was looking towards us, and skating along with
his arms folded, and all at once dropped beneath
the ice and disappeared. He had, while looking
at us, skated into an air-hole. I involuntarily
screamed, and started with all speed for the place.
E



66 THE TRUANT.

The preceptor followed, having guessed the cause
of my exclamation.

The accident had been seen from the shore, and
many persons came hurrying to the spot, and
among them the father of the boy. He was told,
on shore, that it was his oldest son; and rushing
to the spot, and putting his head down in the hole,
held it there a long time, looking, but all was in
vain. The rapid tide had borne him far down the
river, and his body was never more seen.

The events of this day taught me the lesson of
obedience. It stamped upon my mind the truth,
that the first great duty, next to our devotion to
our Maker, is respect and obedience to those who
are placed in authority over us. I never again
played truant.





67

HT Ta

Diy

I;

Pry fa \ . oa i
ed I \ Wo
F o Ai NY t
11}}{ kd || AS Ye }
TTY} iH ea |



A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

Ou! the happy summer hours,

With their butterflies and flowers,

And the birds among the bowers
Sweetly singing ;

With the spices from the trees,

Vines, and lilies, while the bees

Come floating on the breeze,

Honey bringing !

All the east was rosy red

When we woke and left our bed,

And to gather flowers we sped,
Gay and early.



A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

Every clover-top was wet,

And the spider's silky net,

With a thousand dew-drops set,
Pure and pearly.

With their modest eyes of blue,

Were the violets peeping through

Tufts of grasses where they grew,
Full of beauty,

At the lamb in snowy white,

O’er the meadow bounding light,

And the crow just taking flight,
Grave and sooty.

On our floral search intent,

Still away, away we went,—

Up and down the rugged bent,—
Through the wicket,—

Where the rock with water drops,—

Through the bushes and the copse,—

Where the greenwood pathway stops
In the thicket.

We heard the fountain gush,

And the singing of the thrush ;

And we saw the squirrel’s brush
In the hedges,

As along his back ‘twas thrown,

Like a glory of his own,

While the sun behind it, shone
Through its edges.

All the world appeared ‘so fair,

And so fresh and free the air,—

Oh! it seemed that all the care
In creation



A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE. «69

Belonged to God alone; _
And that none beneath his throne,
Need to murmur or to groan

At his station.

Dear little brother Will !
He has leapt the hedge and rill,—
He has clambered up the hill,
Kre the beaming
Of the rising sun, to sweep
With its golden rays the steep,
Till he’s tired and dropt asleep,
Sweetly dreaming.

See, he threw aside his cap,
And the roses from his lap,
When his eyes were, fer the nap,
Slowly closing :
With his sunny curls outspread,
On its fragrant mossy bed,
Now his precious infant head
Is reposing.

He is dreaming of his play—

How he rose at break of day,

And he frolicked all the way
On his ramble.

And before his fancy’s eye,

He has still the butterfly

Mocking him, where not so high
He could scramble.

In his cheek the dimples dip,

And a smile is on his lip,

While his tender finger-tip
Seems as aiming



70

A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

At some wild and lovely thing

That is out upon the wing,

Which he longs to catch and bring
Home for taming.

While he thus at rest is laid

In the old oak’s quiet shade,

Let’s cull our flowers to braid,
Or unite them

In bunches trim and neat,

That, for every friend we meet,

We may have a token sweet
To delight them.

‘Tis the very crowning art
Of a happy, grateful heart
To others to impart

Of its pleasure.
Thus its joys can never cease,
For it brings an inward peace,
Like an every-day increase

Of a treasure !





71

THE HOTTENTOTS.

AT the southern part of Africa, a great many
years ago, there lived a simple race of uncivilized
people,—to whom the name of Hottentots has
been since given,—who supported themselves in
their rude way, and kept sheep and herds, whose
milk served them for food, and whose skins kept
them warm.

The Dutch people, who were very fond of sailing
about in their ships, came to this part of the world,
and finding the country pleasant, and a great many
delicious fruits in it, they resolved to make a set-
tlement, and have a town of their own there.

The Hottentots did not like very much to have
anew kind of people settling down among them,
and as they had been used to fighting with wild
beasts, and were quite brave, they did all they
could to keep the people away. |

But the Dutch had so much more skill and
knowledge than the poor Hottentots, that they
soon got the better of the savages, and the natives



AN

ee\ NL i i

Et
WTI
aN )



\ i HH} | I ‘E
| , WU te
PTY he <=
a 2



THE HOTTENTOTS. to

were obliged to allow them to settle in their
country.

The Europeans, when they heard of this plea-
sant, warm country, came in great numbers, and
each emigrant was allowed to receive for his farm
as much land as an officer appointed for the pur-
pose, could walk across in an hour. They probably
always tried to get a tall man, who could take
pretty long steps. Whether they asked the poor
natives’ consent to this arrangement, the history
does not say; but at the end of a hundred and
fifty years, the Hottentots had been deprived of
all their land, and were compelled to work for
their invaders, except that some of the more fero-
cious and bolder tribes retreated to the deserts,
and remain in a savage state to this day.

The colony afterwards fell into the hands of the
British, and about eighteen years ago, the Hotten-
tots of the Cape, about thirty thousand in number,
were made free, and allowed to have all the privi-
leges enjoyed by the white inhabitants. .

Christian missionaries have visited this part of
the world, and many of the native inhabitants are
said to have been brought under the gentle: in-
fluence of Christianity. The Moravian missionaries,
some years ago, collected a number of the Hotten-
tots into a village, built a church, and instructed
them in many of the arts of civilized life. They
were taught several kinds of manufactures, and



74 THE HOTTENTOTS.

travellers speak of their establishment as being in
a very flourishing state.

In the year 1811, this place was visited by a
severe earthquake, which alarmed the people
greatly, as nothing of the kind had occurred since
the settlement of the town. It does not appear
from the accounts, that any lives were lost, but
many of the buildings were cracked, and in part
thrown down.

The Hottentots are said to be kind and gentle
in their natures, and hospitable to strangers. Those
who have been converted to Christianity, have left
off, for the most part, their rude sheepskin dress,
and wear a more civilized attire.

The picture at the beginning of this article
represents a native Hottentot, in his sheepskin
cloak, but the rest of his dress appears to be after
the European fashion. The more savage Hotten-
tots, who have never joined the colony, lead a
wandering life, living on wild roots, locusts, and
eggs, toads, lizards, mice, and such other food as
can be obtained in the deserts. They use, as
weapons of defence, the javelin, and bows and
arrows. Their arrows are small, but they are
tipped with poison, so that a wound from them is
generally fatal.

They teach their children early the use of the
bow and arrow; and some trayellers .say, that, to
do this, they sometimes put a little boy’s breakfast,
_ probably a nice toad, or half a dozen ant’s eggs, or



THE HOTTENTOTS. 75D

some other of their favourite kinds of food, up into
the high branches of a tree, and then make the
boy shoot his arrows at it, until he brings it down.
This gives him a good appetite, and teaches him
early the use of the bow and arrow.





76

PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.
THE WHISPERING FIGURE.
ILLUSTRATING THE PROPAGATION OF SOUNDS.

SounpD is propagated through a confined channel of
air, as for instance, a long tube, very perfectly. It
is not uncommon in large establishments, where it
is necessary to pass many orders to and fro, to have
such tubes laid in the walls, so that words can pass
through them from room to room. The experi-
ment may be tried in a leaden pipe, laid down for
an aqueduct, before the water is admitted, and it
will be found that the slightest whisper can be
heard for a distance of half a mile or more. This
tendency of a confined channel of air to increase
the distinctness of the sound passing through it,
may be shewn by a tube formed by rolling up a
large sheet of paper and whispering through it.
If the tube is gradually enlarged towards the outer
end, it greatly increases the loudness of the sound



PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. 77

transmited through it, as in the case of the horn,
the speaking trumpet, &c. ,
When the sound of a voice passes in this man-
ner through a tube, the voice always appears to
come from the end of the tube where the sound
issues, and not from the end where the words are
really spoken. This has given rise to an ingenious
contrivance called the whispering figure, which is
sometimes fitted up in museums for the entertain-
ment of visitors. It is as follows :—
. A large dog or other image
is placed upon a stand at a
little distance from the side
of the room. There is a tin
tube within the figure, one
end of which is opposite the
Ny; mouth, and the other passes
| Hiii| down through the floor, and
‘ M | thence along under the floor,
Lai as represented by the dotted
line in the cut. After passing
the partition, it is turned up, and opens in a funnel-
shaped extremity in the next room. If now a
person speaks or whispers at the outer end of the
tube, the persons who are in the room with the
figure will hear the sound coming through its lips,
as if the figure itself were speaking. The tube
being entirely concealed within the dress of the
figure, and under the floor, the spectators, not sus-
pecting such a communication with the next room,





78 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

wonder by what contrivance an image can be made
to speak.

This experiment is sometimes performed by
children in private, by placing a board across the
tops of two chairs, and covering it with cloth, so
as to represent a table. The tube comes up
through this board into the body of some image
placed upon the table, as a doll, a figure of a dog
or cat, or a grotesque effigy made by means of a
mask, In this case a person is concealed under
the table to whisper into the tube, in answer to
such questions as the spectators address to the
figure. Of course, all these arrangements are
made before the spectators are admitted to the
room.

Pry mn
aha he Kl Wa
mi NAb
nan 0
iH





79

STORY OF THE SEA.

’ Caprain ALBert had recently returned from a
long and perilous whaling voyage, and was seated
beside a bright blazing fire at his own hearth. His
wife sat opposite, with her youngest child in her
lap, while the two sons, Edward and William, stood
on each side looking earnestly in his face, that they
might be quite sure their father had indeed re-
turned, and that they were not stil] deceived by one
of those pleasant dreams with which they had been
so often visited during his absence.

‘ Oh, father,” said Edward, “the next time you
go, take me with you, do !”

“Tell us a story of the sea, will you not, father 2”
said William, at the same time.

“ Very well, my son, I will try,” replied their
father; “and that will, perhaps, change Edward’s
mind about going with me the next time.

“ One day, in the great Southern ocean, we had
followed a fine whale farther south than we had
ever before been. The whale was enormously
large, and I sawin a moment that if we could



|

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ii

| / iy i M)
Ll
——S ee SS ee

—=——_ = =< = me





STORY OF THE SEA. 81

take it there would be oil enough to fill our casks,
and enable us to return home. Its motions were
very rapid, and we followed it as swiftly as we
could, but, after all, it escaped. I believe the
creature swam under water till it was out of the
reach of my glass. While I was looking out to try
to get a sight of it again, I espied something which
appeared to be an island, to the south, but while I
was looking at it I was sure it moved. It did
move, and we soon came near enough to see what
it was distinctly.. It. proved to be an iceberg,
shooting up to a great height, like one of the sharp-
pointed Alps, and spreading out to a wide extent,
on all sides. At the same time, the whole ocean,
as far south as the eye could reach, was covered
with floating ice.

“ The situation was full of danger, but the wind
was in our fayour, and I prepared to press all sail,
in hopes of escaping, when suddenly a shower of
hail and sleet rushed upon us with such fury that
some of the men were beaten down to the deck,
and all found it difficult to stand under it. The
sails, shrouds, and sheets, were all cased in ice,
stiffened, and almost as immoveable as if they had
been made of iron.

“T now began’ to blame myself severely for suf-
fering the whale to tempt meso far into those
regions of ice and storms. I looked with bitter re-
gret toward those faithful sailors who had trusted
their lives to my care, and who were now exposed

F



82 STORY OF THE SEA.

to unnecessary hardships and dangers by my boyish
rashness. The noble fellows never uttered a word
of complaint, but thezr generous fortitude did not
help to reconcile‘me to myself. Full of anxiety, I
took my glass to look out again for the iceberg.
While I was looking towards it, I spied some-
thing among the cakes of ice, which appeared like
some small craft; but I could not believe a vessel
of that size could have reached a latitude so far
south. A vessel, it certainly was—a small schooner,
sailing among the cakes of ice, as if it knew how to
pick its way alone, for I could not see a person
moving on her deck. We steered, as well as we
could, directly towards her. My ship was new and
strong, and well prepared, so that I did not much
fear the loose cakes of ice. When we were near
enough, I hailed the little craft, and thought I
heard a distant shout in reply. As we came nearer,
I saw a young man alone, and sitting upon the
helm, apparently managing it with the motions of
his body, so as to steer his little vessel safely
through.

, . * We all stood looking for a mo-
ment at the brave young man, with wonder and
admiration; but as soon as I ordered out a boat,
the sailors rushed to the side and began to work
with a will, although everything they touched was
eased in ice, and terrible to handle. Down went
the boat, and was manned in an instant. It was
not long before the young man was on board our



STORY OF THE SEA. 7 83

ship, but he would not leave the schooner until he
had seen a rope rigged to tow her after us. The
poor fellow was almost dead with cold and
hunger; he had not tasted any food for more
than twenty-four hours, as he told us afterwards.
He could hardly speak a word, and as soon as he
felt the warmth of the stove, he fainted entirely
away. We put him into a hammock, and did all
we could for him, and soon had the pleasure of
seeing him revive. After he had taken some warm
tea, he fell asleep, and slept till I began to fear he
would never awake again; but Providence had
provided him the refreshment he needed, and when
he awoke, the next day, he was well and lively. I in-
quired how he came into so strange a situation, when
he told me that four young men, without much con-
sideration, had purchased the vessel, and fitted her
up for a voyage of discovery into those far-off seas.
They had encountered a furious storm, which drove
them among the ice, near the place where they
were found. They had suffered very much with
cold and want of sleep, while the vessel was
every moment in danger of being crushed to
pieces.

“In this distress his companions began to drink
spirits to warm them. They offered him some, and
urged him to drink, but he replied it would make
him worse, and reminded them ofa ship which was
cast away one very severe winter, among the rocks
near his own native town, when all the sailors who.



84 STORY OF THE SEA. .

drank rum were frozen, while those who did not
drink, escaped. His companions, however, would
not listen to his advice, but confinued to drink,
and were soon unable to move, and were all frozen
to death, and were still on the déck, covered with
ice and sleet. Robert (this was the young man’s
name,) was saved by not drinking any of the rum,
but by using it outwardly, pouring it into his boots,
and a part into his bosom.”

“ But how did you escape that terrible iceberg,
and get out of that dreadful sea?” said Edward:
“were any of your men frozen ¢” .

“No,” replied Captain Albert; “we suffered
very severely, but we did not use any * fire-water,’
and every sailor who went out in the ship, returned
in good health; still, all that we were able to do
would have been no more than the fluttering of a
leaf in a whirlwind, without the help of Him, who,
you will remember, was once in ‘a little ship when
a great storm arose,’ and who said, ‘ Peace be still,
and there was a great calm.’ ”





85

THE OLD SLATE.

“JT HAVE a great mind to break this stupid old
slate,” said little Charlie Fidget, one morning, as
he sat over his first sum in subtraction.

“ Why, what has the poor slate done?” asked
the pleasant voice of his sister Helen, behind him.

“Nothing; just what I complain of; it won’t do
this plaguy sum for me; and here it is almost
school-time !”

“ What a wicked slate, Charles !”

“So itis. I mean to fling it out of the window
and break it to pieces on the stones.”

“ Will that do your sum, Charlie?”

“No; but if there were no slates in the world,
I should have no good-for-nothing sums to do.”

“Oh, ho! that does not follow, by any means.
Did slates make the science of arithmetic? Would
people neyer have to count or calculate, if there
were no slates? You forget pens, lead pencils and
paper: you forget all about oral arithmetic,
Charlie.”

‘Well, I don’t love to cipher, that’s all I know.”



86 THE OLD SLATE.

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“And so, you hasty boy, you get angry with the
poor harmless slate, that is so convenient when you
make mistakes and want to rub them out again.
Now that is the way with a great many thought-
less, quick-tempered people. They try to find
fault with somebody or something else, and get
into a passion, and perhaps do mischief, when if
they would but reflect a little, it is their own dear
selves who ought to bear the blame. Now, Char-
lie, let me see what I can do for you.”

So Helen sat down in her mother’s great easy-
chair; she tried to look grave and dignified, like
an old lady, though she was but eighteen. Charlie



THE OLD SLATE. 87

eame rather unwillingly, laid the slate in her lap,
and began to play with the trimming on her apron.
“ ‘Why, what is all this ?” said she; “soldiers, and
cats, and dogs, and houses with windows of all
shapes and sizes |”

Charlie looked foolish. “Oh, the sum is on the
other side,” said he, turning it over.

“Ah, silly boy,” said Helen; “here you have
been sitting half an hour drawing pictures, instead
of trying todo your sum. And now, which do you
think ought to be broken, you or the slate?” and
she held it up high, as if she meant to strike at
him with it.

Charlie looked up, with his hands at his ears,
making believe he was frightened, but laughing
all the while, for he knew she was only playing
with him. Presently, however, she put on a
serious face, and said, “ Now, my little man, you
must go to work in good earnest to make up for
lost time.”

“Qh, Helen, it wants only twenty minutes to
nine; I can’t possibly do this sum and get to
school by nine. I shall be late. What shall I
do? Miss Fletcher will certainly punish me if it
is not done. Can't you, just this once, Helen ?”

“No,” said Helen.

“Oh, do, there’s a dear, good sister; just this
once.”

“No, Charlie; there would be no kindness in



88 THE OLD SLATE.

that. You would never learn arithmetic in that
way.”

ay ust once,” still pleaded Charlie.

“ No,” answered Helen, in a kind, but resolute
tone: “if I do it once, you will find it harder to
be refused to-morrow; you will depend upon me,
and sit playing and drawing pictures, instead -of
ciphering. I will:keep you close at it till you
perform your task.”

So she passed her hand gently round him, and
though Charlie pouted at first, and could hardly
see through his tears, she questioned him about his
rule, and then began to show him the proper way
to do his sum, yet letting him work it out himself,
in such a pleasant manner, that he was soon
ashamed of being sullen. First she held the pen-
cil herself, and put down the figures as he told her
to do; and then she made him copy the whole,
nicely, on another part of the slate, and rub out
her figures.

After all this was finished patiently and dili-
gently, Charlie was surprised to find he should -
still be in good time for school.

“ Now, to-morrow, Charlie,” said Helen, “ don’t
waste a moment, but go to your lesson at once,
whatever it is, and you will find it a great saving,
not only of time, but of temper. You won't get
into a passion with this clever old slate of mine.
It went to school with me when I was a little girl,
and I should have been sorry if you had broken it



THE OLD SLATER. | 89

for not doing your work. Generally, Charlie,
when you see a person fidgety and angry, and com-
plaining of things and people, you may be sure he
has either done something he ought not to do, or
left undone something he ought to do.”

Away ran Charlie to school, thinking to himself,
“Well, I suppose I was wrong both ways. I
ought not to have been drawing soldiers, and I
ought to have been ciphering.”





90

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CHILDREN.

Tne early lark, that spreads its wings
And mounts the summer air,
Obeys its Maker while it sings
In morning carols there.

The skilful bee from flower to flower
Pursues its nectar’d store,

Nor has it instinct, skill or power
To please its Maker more.

But children, born with nobler powers,
In paths of vice may stray,

Or rise to virtue’s fragrant bower
In realms of endless day.

Then let me shun those wicked ways
Which lead to sin and shame,

So shall my heart be taught to praise
My Lord and Saviour’s name.



91



LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.

Lizzy was walking in a wood one day, and as she
stooped under a tree to gather some flowers that
grew at its foot, she heard a loud tapping high up
in the tree; she looked up, and there she saw,
clinging to a dead bough, that. industrious and



92 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.



happy bird, the woodpecker. “Are you going to
dig out a chamber for yourself there ?” asked Lizzy.
“That bough is too small, I should think.”

“Oh! I am not. doing carpentry work now,”
said the bird; ‘there are some nice little insects
under this bark,—sweet things !—which I love as
well as you love the lambs.”

«“ And yet you intend to make a meal upon them
—barbarous bird !”’

“Yes, as good a meal as you make upon the
lamb,—barbarous child! But let us forgive each



LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 93

other; we must eat to live. You would love to
eat me if I were nicely cooked, and I should relish
you exceedingly if I could only change you into a
beetle-bug, or a grub of some ‘sort.” |

“Do not talk so, Mr. Carpenter: I would rather
§0 without my dinner than to have you killed and
cooked forme.”

“Ah! do you love me go well? Then I will
confide in you, and tell you a secret. My chamber
is in the trunk of this tree, and my six eggs lie on
the floor of it. Jump up here, and I will show it
to you.” ,

“I could not jump twenty feet into the air,” said
Lizzy.

“ Why! are you not twenty times longer than I
am ?”

“Oh, more; and more than forty times
heavier 2”

“ Well, well, I will go down and help. you up.”

“TI should like to know how you expect to help
me,” said Lizzy.

“We shall see ;” and the woodpecker flew down;
—hbut where is he? Lizzy looked about, and she
could not see him anywhere. |

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed a voice close by her ear ;
and Lizzy turned, and saw a pretty little fairy
figure standing close beside her. I was only acting
the woodpecker for my amusement. We fairies
are very fond of masquerading.” )

“Then I cannot see the woodpecker’s nest,” said



94 LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.

Lizzy. “It is too bad to disappoint me so, when I
did so want to see his pretty eggs.”

“Qh, if you wish to see some pretty eggs. I can
show you some as pretty as the woodpecker’s. I
have hundreds of them stowed away in a wood-
pecker’s hole, up in this very tree. I had come
here this morning to deposit some, and this is what
made me think of acting the woodpecker just
now.”

“Where did you get so many eggs? Do you
rob birds’ nests ?”

“Qh, no, indeed! they are not birds’ eggs; they
come down in the rain, and we use the large flower-
cups to catch them in.”

« And what will hatch from them?”

“Ah, that -is more than I can tell as yet. J
will give you some of them, and they will hatch
just such kind of creatures as you tell them to.”

«That is a very likely story,—but give me some,
do; and I will tell them to hatch most beautiful
birds and butterflies.”

“Stay; let me explain a little, before you count
your unhatched birds and butterflies. I will tell
you how to hatch them. Put them in your bosom,
and they will be hatched by its warmth; but what
is hatched from them must depend entirely upon
what kind of feeling shall warm your bosom, and
upon what deeds you do. If you have a wicked
feeling, an ugly creature will begin to form within
one of the eggs; and if you let that feeling cause



LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 95

you to do anything wrong, then the egg will hatch.
Are you willing to take the risk of having spiders
and scorpions in your bosom, for the sake of the
hope that they may be pretty birds and butter-
flies ?”



“Oh, yes!” said Lizzy; “Ido not think I ever
have such bad feelings as spiders and scorpions are
made of.” ao

“ Come, then,” cried the fairy ; and she led Liazy
round to the other side of the tree, where she saw,
high up in the trunk, a woodpecker’s hole.

“ Run up,” cried the fairy.

“How can I? There is nothing but an ivy-vine
to cling to.”

“ You mistake,” said the fairy ; and she touched
the ivy-vine with her wand, and there was a nice
rope-ladder leading up to the woodpecker’s hole.
It was almost full of small, pearly white eggs.—
“Take out three or four,” gaid the fairy, “and put



96 LIZZY 3; A FAIRY TALE.

them in your bosom, and before you reach home,
they will very likely all be hatched.” :

“Oh, what pretty little things!” cried Lizzy, as
she took them out; “they shall certainly hatch
something pretty.”

She was going to put them all in her bosom at
once; but the fairy told her she had better put
only one in at a time, and the others in one of the
pockets of her apron; for it would be rather worse
if there should be several spiders running about in
her bosom, than only one.

“Oh, there will not be any,” said Lizzy ; “there
will be a pretty bird hopping about there—but I
will do as you advise.” She ran down the ladder,
and the fairy tripped along after her, and when
Lizzy turned to bid her good morning, she saw the
ivy-vine clasping the tree, and the woodpecker
tapping away at the bark.

Lizzy ran along through the wood, hoping that
something would happen to arouse in her breast a
good affection of some sort,—for there was nothing
there now but a mingled feeling of pleasure and
dread,—for a sweet-brier bush, for what purpose is
not known, caught hold of her dress, and thus
occasioned a frightful rent ; and sweet-brier bushes,
if they do bear sweet roses, do also love to play off
their jokes upon people, in quite as unbenevolent a
way as the blackberry and thorn.. But Lizzy
thought it no joke at all. What barbarous cruelty
- to tear her dress so, and then to hold upon it so



LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE. 97

relentlessly ! and whilst she was trying to force the
thorns to let go their hold, she became so angry
that she cried out, “Oh! I wish there was not a
sweet-brier bush in the world, I do! and T wish
this was dead and burnt up.” But before she had
released herself from the bush, she felt something
moving in her bosom. Putting her hand in, she
pulled out an empty egg-shell, while the wasp,
which had just been hatched, flew around her face.
She brushed it away with her handkerchief. She
looked at the sweet-brier roses,—those little rosy
cups all arranged so garland-like on the bending
boughs,—and_ said, “I wonder it was not a scor-
pion. Poor little roses! [ do not wish you to
wither; I want you to flourish, and breathe out
your sweet breath ;” and she bent her head over
hem, and while they breathed forth their sweet
breath, they looked so much like little infants, that
the tears came into Lizzy’s eyes, while she said,
“ May the Lord that made you, forgive me !”—
When she lifted up her head, she saw a& wasp fall
to the ground, and then a pretty bird came, and
picked it up and swallowed it. Lizzy then took
another ege from her pocket, placed it in her
bosom, and walked on, taking care to keep at a
safe distance from sweet-briers and brambles,

She had. not gone far when she saw a little
sparrow fly from a low shrub, making a sound as if
he had a nest there. When he had gone so far
away that she thought he would not see her, she

G



98 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

peeped in amongst the leaves, and there she espied,
the little home, with its three inmates; not three
little birds as yet—but, what she knew were quite



as dear to the parents,two speckled eggs. “ Ah!”
thought Lizzy, “how I should like to see if I
could not hatch a sparrow’s egg. I should be sure
that a wasp would not come out of a sparrow’s
egg.” And she put her hand very slily into the
nest, and stole away one of the sparrow’s speckled
treasures, and laid it in her bosom by the side of
the fairy egg. As she left the bush, she turned to
see if the sparrow went to look at it; and while
she stood watching him, she felt a strange nestling
and fumbling in her bosom, that she thought both
eggs must have hatched. Looking in, she saw a
small snake writhing about most energetically. “I
will put the sparrow’s egg back,” thought she, for
she was struck with horror.

Throwing the snake upon the ground, in an



LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 99

agony of disgust, she felt for the sparrow’s egg ;
but, alas! the empty shell was alone there,—the
snake had sucked the egg. “How I wish I had
not stolen away the sparrow’s egg! The snake has
eaten what. would have been a pretty bird. [I
would give the sparrow one of my fairy eggs, if I
thought he would like it, but perhaps he would
not. Vile snake!” she cried, stepping back as she

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saw the snake writhing on the ground close by her
feet. Her words seemed to give him a death-
stroke; he lay still, as though lifeless; she touched
him with her foot, but he did not move. “There
was a little frog-pond near by, and to make sure
that he should not come to life again, Lizzy took
the snake on a stick, and threw it into the pond,
and then put another egg into her bosom. As she
stood by the pond, lashing the water with the stick,
she began to fear she was not quite so delightful a



Full Text

EDE





LONDON,
Published by H.G. Collins.



caeEe
BOYS’ AND GIRLS’ LIBRARY ; Re

CONTAINING

A VARIETY OF USEFUL AND INSTRUCTIVE
READING, SELECTED FROM EMINENT
WRITERS FOR YOUTH,



BY PETERBrYP ARLE Y.

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LONDON:

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Jd 81

CONTENTS.

Childhood ...

The Old Year and the
New Year

The Story of Edward
Lyon ; or, Confessing
a Fault

To my good Angel

Self- Denial

Henry and his Sister ...

Anna and her Kitten

Faithfulness

The Great Man

Philosophy in Common

things. — The Air
Thermometer ...
The Rabbit ...

“ Sleigh Ride ...

PAGE.

9

7 | Story of a Greyhound
The Truant
A Summer morning
Ramble ...

10
16
17
24
26
28
41

43
52
55

The Hottentots ...
“ Whispering Figure
A Story of the Sea
The Old Slate
Children, a poem
Lizzy ; a Fairy Tale
Ellen.
Philosophy in common
things.—Corking the
kettle spout up
The Lost Children
Forgiveness

A true story

The two Nosegays é

PAGE.
61
63

67
71
76
79
85
90
. 91
109

111

123
124
VI

Camgno; or, the tame
Roe ie

The Secret

Science of the Human
Frame.—tThe Skin ...

Voices from Nature

King Alfred

Grace Middleton

Shells ...

Emulation.—A_ conver-
sation between Harry
and his father

A Nurse’s Song ...

The Shepherd and the
Fairy

Simple Pleasures

The Robin’s
Bye” to little Ara-
minta

The Baby House

Fidelity and Obedience

Bessie Lee ...

The Stars.—Orion
“* Apple
** New Singing School

“Good |

FAGE,

127
131

136

142
145
148
153

155
160

161
165

171
174
183
186
200
204
208

CONTENTS.

The Balloon

Curious Little Painters

The Upas; or, Poison
Tree mn

Disobedience, and _ its
consequences ...

The Game of Weather-
cocks

Cartier. — An

James
early traveller in
America ...

Anselmo’s Escape; or,

the Dog St. Bernard
To my Boy Tom, on

giving him his first

Spelling-Book
Second Story of the Sea
The Child at Prayer ...

* Child Angel

6 OA... ui
Something about’ Dogs
The Morning Walk

* Ostrich

** Violet.— Modesty

“¢ Elephant

PAGE,

215
217

225

227

233

235
THE

BOYS AND GIRLS’ LIBRARY.

LOLLY PROPS

CHILDHOOD.

‘‘ Heaven lies about us in our infancy.”
W orDsWorTH.

‘“* My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky ;
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
So let it be when I grow old,
Or let me die.”
Iprp.

THE angel that takes care of the tender lambs and
sprinkles dew upon the flowers, in the still night,
takes care of thee, dear little one, and Jets no evil
come to thy tender years.

Fair child! when I gaze into thy soft, dark eyes,
my childhood returns, like a bright vision, and I
5 CHILDHOOD.

think of the time when every sight and every
sound in nature gave to me such sweet delight, and
all seemed so fair. I almost fancy I hear thy gen-
tle voice breathing forth thy joy in sweet and happy
words, such as little children are wont to use
when they first begin to look up into the blue sky,
to gaze upon the rainbow, or the bright clouds
that float over the moon.

The bright sun, the moon and stars, the murmur-
ing rivulet, the broad ocean heaving to and fro in
the sunlight, the thunder and the storm, the quiet
glen where I listened to the busy hum of the in-
sects, the joyous song of the birds, as they flew
from spray to spray, the odour of fresh flowers—all
filled my breast with heavenly love and peace; and
when I look into thy face, dear Sophia, I feel my
soul return to join you, and [ forget the present,
and live only in the past.

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THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW YEAR. 9

THE OLD YEAR AND THE
NEW YEAR.

BY RUFUS DAWES.

Aw old man, wrinkled with many woes,
Went trudging along through the wintry
snows;
*Twas the thirty-first of December, at night,
He had travelled far and was worn out quite.
i The clock was just on the click of twelve,
HI When the old man stopp’d and began to
" delve:
And he made a grave in the broad highway,
To be trampled upon on the coming day.
Then in he crept, and had hardly strength,
To stretch himself out at his utmost iength,
When the clock struck twelve!—at the
solemn tone,
The old man died without a groan.

Just then a youth came tripping by,

With a holiday look and a merry eye;

His back was loaded with books and toys,

Which he toss’d about to the girls and boys.

He gave one glance at the dead old man.

Then laughed aloud, and away he ran.

But when he comes back, let him laugh, if
he dare,

At the following lines which are written
there.

‘* Beneath the stone which here you view,

Lies E1géhTkEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO.

His grandfathers blundered so sadly, that he

Inherited only their penury,

With a few little play-things he’s left for his
heir,

Who will frolic awhile, and then die of care.

He lived, a wretched life, we're told.

And died at last, just twelve months old |”


10

THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON;

OR,

CONFESSING A FAULT.

“I pon’? like James Parker, and I’ll never play
with him again as long as I live,” said a little boy,
warmly, whose name was Edward Lyon.

His father, hearing the words of his son, called
him, and said,

“ Kdward, my son, what has happened to cause
you to speak so unkindly of your little playmate ?
I thought you liked James very much.”

“So I did, father ; but I don’t like him now.”

“ Why not 2” |

“ Because he got angry with me to-day, and
struck me.”

“Struck you, my son!” __

“Yes, indeed! he did so,—but I struck him

back for it !”
THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. ly

When Edward’s father heard this, he was very
much grieved. Taking his boy upon his knee, he
asked him to tell him all about his difficu!ty with
James Parker, and why James had struck him.

“Why, you see, father,” began Edward, “he
was building a house with the blocks you told us
we might have from the building, and had got it up
very high, when I told him, in fun, that I would
knock it down, and threw a great stone at it, just
by way of make believe. Somehow or other, the
stone slipped in my hand, and struck his house, and
knocked it all to pieces. But I didn’t mean to
do it. And then he came up to me, with his face
as red as blood, and struck me with all his might.”

“ And then you struck him back again ?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ And then what did he do 2”

“He doubled up his fist, as if he was going to
hit me again.”

“ But didn’t do it 2”

“No. He stopped a minute, and then began to
cry, and went off home.”

“Suppose he had struck you again—what would
you have done 2”

“T should have hit him back.”

“ Like a wicked boy, as you were, then.”

“ But he was wicked, too, father.”

“ Not so wicked as you, I think. In the first
place, it was wrong in you even to pretend that
you were going to knock his house down. Wrong
12 THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON.

in two ways. First, you told an untruth in saying
that you meant to knock it down, when you did
not intend to do so. And then you took pleasure
in seeing him troubled, lest his house, the building
of which gratified him so much, should be wantonly
destroyed. Both the feeling and act here were
evil. And my son, in indulging the one and doing
the other, was not under good influences. And
then, can you wonder that James, after what you
had said, should have believed that you knocked
his house down on purpose? You said that you
meant to do it, and then did do it. What better
evidence could he have had of your unjustifiable
trespass upon his rights? Pleased with his house,
its destruction could only arouse within him feelings
of indignation against the one who had wantonly
thrown it down. Put yourself in his place, and
think whether you would not have felt as angry
as he did; perhaps much more so. Carried away
by this feeling, he struck you. This was wrong,
but not half so much as the fact of your returning
the blow. You knew that you had given him
cause to feel incensed at your conduct, and you
ought to have borne his blow as a just punishment
for what you had done. But, instead of this, you
made the matter ten times worse by striking him
back. The fact, that he did not return your
blow, but resisted the impulse he felt to strike you
again, shows that he is a much better boy than
you are, Edward; for you have declared, that if he
THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. 13

had struck you again, you would have returned the
blow, and have fought with him, I doubt not, un-
til the one or the other of you had been beaten.”

“Tam sorry I knocked his house down,” Edward
said, as soon as his father ceased speaking, and he
hung his head and looked ashamed and troubled.
«And I was sorry the moment I saw that I had
done it.”

“Then why did you not tell him so at once ?”

“T would, if he had given me time. But he
doubled up his fist and hit me before I could
speak.”

“Still, knowing that you had provoked him to
do so, you ought to have forgiven the blow.”

“And so I would, if I had only had time to
think. But it came so suddenly”—

“ You have had time to think since, my son, and
yet you have declared that you do not like James,
and never intend playing with him again.”

“T didn’t feel right when [ said that, father. I
was angry at him. But I don’t suppose he will
ever play with me again after what has happened.”

“Why not ?”

“ Of course he is very angry with me.”

“More angry with himself for having struck
you, I expect.”

“Oh, if I thought so, I would go at once and
ask him to forgive me for knocking his house down,
and for having struck him,” Edward said, his eyes
filling with tears.
14 THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON.

“That ought not to be your reason for asking
his forgiveness, Edward.”

“ Why not, father ?”

“You should go to him and ask his forgiveness
because you are conscious of having injured him.
You ought not to think anything about what he
may think or feel, but go to him and confess your
wrong, simply because you have acted wrong.”

“ But how do I know that he will take it kindly 2”

“That you must not think of, my boy. Think
only of the fact you have injured James, and that
simple justice requires of you to repair that injury
in the best way youcan. Surely, the least you can
now do is to go to him, and tell him that you
are sorry for what you have done.”

For a time, pride and shame struggled in the
breast of Edward, but at length he made up his
mind to do as his father had proposed. He not
only saw clearly that he had been wrong, but he also
felt that he had been wrong. James Parker lived
only a little way from his father’s house, and thither
he at length turned his steps, though with reluc-
tance, for he did not know how James would re-
ceive him.

As he came into the yard of the house where
James’ father lived, he saw his little playmate
seated quietly in the door, with his face turned
away, so that he did not notice him, nor seem to
hear the sound of his footsteps, until he was close
THE STORY OF EDWARD LYON. 15

to him. Then he turned quickly, and Edward saw
that he had been weeping.

“ James,” he said, holding out his hand, “I am
sorry that I knocked your house down—but I didn’t
mean to do it. And I am more sorry still that I
struck you.”

“And I have been so sorry that I struck you,
that I have cried ever since,” James said, taking
the offered hand of his young friend. “I might
have known that you did not mean to knock my
house down when you threw the stone,—that it
was an accident. But I was so angry that I didn’t
know what I was doing. I’m so glad you have
come. I wanted to see you so bad, and tell you
how sorry I was; but was afraid you would not
forgive me for having struck you.”

From that day Edward and James were firmer
friends than ever. Each forgave the other heartily,
and each blamed himself to the full extent of his
error. And besides, each learned to guard against
the sudden impulse of angry feelings, that so often
sever friends, both young and old.
16 TO MY GOOD ANGEL.

TO MY GOOD ANGEL.

Hart, protecting spirit, hail!
Guardian of my being here ;
Though my faltering footsteps fail,
And I sink in doubt and fear,

Still to cheer me
Thou art near me,
All unseen by mortal eye,—
All unheard by mortal ear ;
Thou, a spirit of the sky,
Dost protect and guide me here.

Hail, immortal spirit, hail !
When the storm is in my breast,
And the foes of peace assail,
Thou canst calm my soul to rest.
Then to cheer me
Still be near me—
Guardian angel, to me given,
Guide me still till life be o’er,
Then to that long looked-for heaven,
Let my happy spirit soar.
17

SELF-DENIAL.

THERE were two. little boys, named James and
William. One day, as they were about starting
for school, their father gave them two or three
pennies a-piece, to spend for themselves. The
little boys were very much pleased at this, and
went off as merry as crickets.

“ What are you going to buy, William?” James
asked, after they had walked on a little way.

“I don’t know,” William replied. “I have not
thought yet. What are you going to buy with
your pennies 2”

“ Why, I'll tell you what I believe Pl do. You
know ma’ is sick. Now, I think I will buy her a>
nice orange. I am sure it will taste good to her.”

“You may, if you choose, James. But I’m
going to buy some candy with my money. Pa’
gave it to me to spend for myself. If ma’ wants
an orange, she can send for it. You know she’s:
got money, and Hannah gets her everything she
wants.”

B
18 SELF-DENIAL.

“T know that,” James said. “But then, it
would make me feel so happy to see her eating an
orange that I bought for her with my own money.
She is always doing something for us, or getting
us some nice thing, and I should like to let her see
that I don’t forget it.”

“You can do as you please,” was William’s
reply to this. “For my part, I don’t often get
money to spend for myself. And now I think of
it, I don’t believe pa’ would like it if we were to
take the pennies he gave us for ourselves, and give
them away,—or, what is the same thing, give
away what we bought with them. Indeed, I’m
sure he would not.”

“T don’t think so, William,” urged James. “I
think it would please him very much. You know
that he often talks to us of the evil of selfishness.
Don’t you remember how pleased he was one day,
when a poor chimney-sweeper asked me for a piece
of cake that I was eating, and I gave him nearly
the whole of it? If that gave him pleasure, surely
my denying myself for the sake of ma’, who is sick,
would please him a great deal more.”

William did not reply to this, for he could not,
very well. Still, he wanted to spend his pennies
for his own gratification so badly, that he was not
at all influenced by what his brother said.

In a little while, the two little boys came to a
confectioner’s shop, and both went into it to spend
their money.
SELF-DENIAL. 19

“Well, my little man, what will you have?”
asked the shop-keeper, looking at William, as he
came up to the counter.

“ Give me three pennies’ worth of cream candy,”
William said.

The cream candy was weighed out, and then the
man asked James what he should get for him.

“T want a nice sweet orange, for a penny,”
said James.

“Our best oranges are twopence,” was the
reply.

“But I have only a penny, and I want a nice
orange for my mother, who is sick.”

“Do you buy it with your own money, my little
man?” asked the confectioner.

“ Yes, sir,” was the low answer.

“Then take one of the best, for your penny,
and here is some candy into the bargain.
I love to see little -boys thoughtful of their mo-
thers.” And the man patted James upon the
head, and seemed much pleased.

William felt bad when he heard what the man
said, and began to think how very much pleased
his mother would be when James took her the
orange after school.

“I wish I had bought an orange too,” he said,
as he went along, eating his candy, which did not
taste half so good as he had expected it would
taste.

Do you know why it did not taste so good? J
20 SELF-DENIAL.

will tell you. His mind was not at ease. When
our thoughts trouble us, we take little or no plea-
sure in anything. To make this still plainer, I
will just mention the case of a boy, who thought it
would be so pleasant if he could play all the time,
instead of going to school. So much did he think
about this, that one morning, he resolved that he
would not go to school when sent, but would go
out into the woods, and play all day, and be. so
happy.

So, when he started off, with his dinner in a
little basket, instead of going to the school-room,
he went to the woods.

“Oh, this is so pleasant!” he said, on first
arriving at the woods—* No books nor lessons—
no sitting still all day. Oh, I shall be so
happy !”

As he said this, the thought of his parents, and
of their grief and displeasure, if they should find
out that he had played truant, came into his mind,
and made him feel very unhappy. But he endea-
voured to forget this, and began to frisk about, and
to try his best to be delighted with his new-found
freedom. But it wasof no use. His thoughts would
go back to his parents, and to a consciousness of
his disobedience ; and these thoughts destroyed all
the pleasantness of being freed from school. At
last, he grew weary of everything around him, and
began to wish that he was again at school. But
_ he was afraid to go now, it had become so late ;
SELF-DENIAL. 21

and so he had to stay in the woods all day. It
seemed to him the longest day he had ever spent,
for the thoughts of his disobedience, and the fear
of his parents’ displeasure, if they were to find out
what he had done, prevented him from taking any
enjoyment. Oh, how glad he was, when the sun
began to go down towards the west! But. it
seemed to him that it never would get to be five
o’clock. Every man he saw with a watch he asked
the time of day, and every answer he received
disappointed him, for he was sure it must be
later.

At last the time came for him to go home. As
he drew near, he began to tremble, lest his parents
should have made the discovery that he had not
been to school. They did not know it, however,
until the little boy, to ease his troubled mind,
confessed his fault. 3 ;

Now this little boy could not enjoy himself in
the woods because his mind was not at ease. He
was not satisfied with himself. He could not
approve of his own conduct.

So it was with William. He felt that he had
been selfish, and that this selfishness would appear
when his brother carried home the orange for their
sick mother. It was for this reason that his
candy did not taste so good to him as he had
expected that it would. But James eat his with
much satisfaction.
22 SELF-DENIAL.

“T wish I had bought ma’ an orange with my
pennies,” William said, as they were going home
from school.

“JT wish you had, too,” replied his unselfish
brother, “for then we should have two to give her,
instead of one.”

“See, ma’, what a nice sweet orange I have
- bought you,” he said, as he arrived at home, and
went into his mother’s sick chamber.

“Tt is, indeed, very nice, my son, and it will
taste good to me. I have wanted an orange all
the morning. Where did you get it?”

“Pa’ gave me a penny, this morning, and I
bought it with this. I thought you would like
to have one.”

“You are very good, my son, to think of your
sick mother. And you wouldn’t spend your penny
for cake or candy; but denied yourself, that you
might get an orange for me? Mother loves you
for this manifestation of your self-denial and love
for your parent.” _ And she kissed him. .

William heard all this, and it made him feel
very bad indeed. Oh, how he did wish that he
had bought something for his mother with the
pennies his father had given him! But it was too
late now.

The pain he felt, however, was useful to him.
Tt taught him to know that we may often obtain
far greater happiness by denying ourselves for the
SELF-DENIAL. .

sake of others, than in seeking alone the gratifica-
tion of our own appetite ; and he seriously resolved
he would try in future to do better.

Tet istesd RUE | Td LL

Soke eer
armor ba
Mh Ae a

HL vp Mt aL


ah

PE
it

Ht |

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| |
it
Wu
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ah 4
7 \y
bs



HENRY AND HIS SISTER.

Sarp Henry, one day,
As from school he came in,
“Don’t you think, sister dear,
A good boy I have been,
Such a beautiful book to have gained ?

“* Just look at these pictures,
The bird on the tree,
These lambs in the meadow,
This flower, and this bee, .
With its honey from blossoms obtained.
.

HENRY AND HIS SISTER.

** And here is a story,
And here is a song ;
Let me read the story,
It won't take me long ;”
And so the nice story he read.

‘Oh, what a nice story !”
And little Jane’s smile
Played on her face,
Like a sunbeam, awhile—
“I’m so glad you were good!” then she said.



25
26

ANNA AND HER KITTEN.

Little Anna has a very pretty grey kitten ; and she
loves the kitty very much ; and the kitty loves her.
Sometimes when Anna is playing with her doll
and nine-pins, kitty puts out her paw and rolls all
the playthings about the room, but Anna does not
mind that ; she knows the little pussy does it all
for play.

One day, when Anna was alone with the kitty,
in the parlour, she made scratches on the window ;
and that wasa very naughty trick. When her
nurse came into the room, she asked Anna, “ Who
made these scratches on the window?” Little
Anna felt ashamed of the mischief. she had done;
and she did not speak a word.

The kitten was asleep in the chair; and the
nurse said, “I suppose this naughty puss did it ;”
and she took the kitten out of the chair, and told
her she must box her ears, for scratching the
window ; but little Anna began to ery; and she
ran up to her nurse, saying, “Oh, don’t whip
ANNA AND HER KITTEN. 27

little kitty; she did not scratch the window. I
did it.”

And so the nurse did not strike poor puss; and
Anna took the kitty in her arms, and smoothed her
soft grey fur, and made her very happy. Anna's
father and mother and her grandmother loved their
little girl very much, because she told the truth,
and was so kind to her good little kitten,


28



FAITHFULNESS;

OR, THE

STORY OF THE BIRD’S NEST.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN,

OnE fine spring morning a poor boy sat under a
tree, watching a flock of sheep which were feeding
in a meadow, between a clear, dancing, trout-brook,
and an old oak wood.

He ‘held a book in his hand, and was so much
engaged with it, that he scarcely looked up, ex-
cepting that from time to time he cast a quick
FAITHFULNESS. 29

glance toward the sheep, to make himself sure they
were all safe, and within bounds.

Once, as he looked up from his book, he saw
standing near him a boy, not much larger than
himself, dressed in the richest and most graceful
manner. It was the prince—the eldest son of the
king, and heir to the throne.

The shepherd-boy did not know him, but sup-
posed him to be the son of the forester, who often
came on business to the fine old hunting-tower,
which stood near by.

“Good morning, Mr. Forester,” said the shep-
herd-boy, taking off his straw hat, which, however,
he instantly’ replaced; “can I do anything for

ou ?”

“Tell me, are there any birds’ nests in these
woods?” said the prince.

“That is a droll question for. a young forest
man,” said the boy. “Dont you hear the birds
singing all around? To be sure there are birds’
nests enough here. Every bird has its own nest.”

“Then, do you know where there is a pretty
one to.be seen ?” said the prince.

“Oh, yes; I know a wonderful fine one,” said
the boy. “It is the prettiest nest I ever saw in
my life. It is made of yellow straw, and is as
smooth and neat inside, as if it had been turned in
a lathe; and it is covered all over the outside with
fine curled moss, so that you would hardly know
there was a nest there. And then, there are five
Papa
â„¢~ Rett

30 FAITHFULNESS.

eggs in it. Oh, they are so pretty! They are
almost as blue as the bright sky, which shines
through those oak leaves over head.”

“That is fine!” said the prince ; “ come, show
me this same nest. I long to see it.”

“That I can easily believe,” said the boy, “ but
_ I cannot show you the nest.”

“Ido not wish you to do it for nothing,” said
the prince, “I will reward you well for it.”

“That may be,” said the boy. “But I cannot
show it to you.”

The prince’s tutor now stepped uptothem. He
was a dignified, kind-looking man, in a plain dark
suit of clothes. The little shepherd had not before
observed him. e

“Be not disobliging, my lad,” said he. “The
young gentleman here has never seen a bird’s nest,
although he has often read of them, and he wishes
very much to see one. Pray, do him the kindness
to lead him to the one you have mentioned, and let
him see it. He will not take it away from you.
He only wishes to look at it. He will not even
touch it.”

The shepherd-boy stood up respectfully, but said,
“I must stick to what I have said, I cannot show
the nest.”

“That is very unfriendly,” said the tutor. «It
should give you great pleasure to be able to do
anything to oblige our beloved prince Frederick.”

“Is this young gentleman the prince ?” cried the
FAITHFULNESS. 31

young shepherd, and again took off his hat; but
this time he did not put it on again. “I am very
much pleased to see the prince, but that bird’s
nest I cannot show any one, no'not even the king
himself.”

“Such a stiff-necked, obstinate boy I never saw
in my life,” said the prince, pettishly. “But we
can easily find means to compel him to do what
we wish.” ; |

“ Leave it to me, if you please, my dear prince,”
said the tutor; “there must be some cause for
this strange conduct.” Then, turning to the boy,
he said, “Pray tell us what is the reason you will
not show us that nest, and then we will go away
and leave you in peace. Your behaviour seems
very rude and strange; but if you have any good
reason for it, do let us know it.”

“Hum !” said the boy; “that I can easily do.
Michel tends goats there over the mountains. He
first showed me the nest, and I promised him that
I never would tell anybody where it was.”

“This is quite another thing,” said the tutor.
He was much pleased with the honesty of ‘the
boy; but wished to put it to further proof. He
took a piece of gold from his purse, and said—

“See here! this piece of gold shall be yours, if
you will show us the way to the nest. You need
not tell Michel that you have done it, and then he
will know nothing about it.”

“Kh! thank you all the same,” said the boy.”
32 FAITHFULNESS.

“Then I should be a false rogue, and that will I
not be. Michel might know it or not. What
would it help me, if the whole world knew nothing
about it, if God in heaven and myself knew that
was a base, lying fellow? Fie!” .

“ Perhaps you do not know how much this piece
of gold is worth,” said the tutor. “If you should
change it into coppers, you could not put them all
into your straw hat, even if you should heap them
u ie
“Ts that true?” said the boy, as he looked
anxiously at the piece of gold. “Oh, how glad
my poor old father would be, if I could earn so
much!” He looked thoughtful a moment, and
then cried out, “No—take it away!” Then,
lowering his voice, he said, “The gentleman must
forgive. He makes me think of the bad spirit in
the wilderness, when he said, ‘all this will I give
thee.” Short and good, I gave Michel my hand
on it, that I would not show the nest to any
one. well.” |

He turned, and would have gone away, but tlie
prince’s huntsman, who stood near and listened to
what passed, came up, and clapped him on the
shoulder, said, in a deep bass voice, “ I]l-mannered
booby! is this the way you treat the prince, who
is to be our king? Do you show more respect to
the rude goat-herd over the mountains, than to
him? Show the bird’s nest, quick, or I will hew
FAITHFULNESS. So

a wing out of your body.” As he said this he
drew his hanger.

The poor boy turned pale, and with a trembling
voice cried out, “Oh, pardon! I pray for pardon !”

“Show the nest, booby,” cried the hunter, “or
I will hew !” |

The boy held both hands before him, and looked
with quivering eyes on the bright blade, but still
he cried, ia an agitated voice, “Oh, I cannot! I
must not! I dare not do it !”

“Knough! enough!” eried the tutor. “Put up
your sword and step back, Mr. Hunter. Be quiet,
my brave boy. No harm shall be done you. You
have well resisted temptation. You are a noble
soul! Go, ask the permission of your young
friend, and then come and show us the nest. You
shall share the piece of gold between you!”

“Good! good!” said the boy, “this evening I
will have an answer for you !”

The prince and tutor went back to the castle, to
which they had come thegday before, to enjoy the
season of spring.

“The nobleness of that boy surprises me,” said
the tutor, as they went along. “He isa jewel
which cannot be too much prized. He has in him
the elements of a great character. So we may
often find, under the thatched roof, truth and
virtues which the palace does not often present to
view.”

After they returned, the tutor inquired of the

C
34 FAITHFULNESS.

steward if he knew anything about the shepherd-
boy.

“He isa fine boy,” said the steward. “ His
name is George. His father is poor, but is known
all around for an honest, upright, sensible man.”

After the prince’s studies were ended for the
day, he went to the window, and immediately said,
« Aha, the little George is waiting for us. He tends -
his small flock of sheep by the wood, and often

- Jooks toward the castle.”

“Then we will go and hear what answer he
brings us,” said the tutor.

They left the castle together and went to the
place where George tended his sheep.

When he saw them moving he ran to meet them,
and called out joyfully—*It is all right with
Michel; he called me a foolish boy, and scolded
me for not showing you the nest at first, but, it is
better that I should have asked his leave. I can
now show it to you with pleasure. Come with me,
quick, Mr. Prince.” |

George led the way, on the run, to the oak
wood, and the prince and tutor followed more slowly.

“ Do you see that yellow bird on the alder twig,
that sings so joyfully ?” said George to the prince.
«That is the manikin! the nest belongs to him.
Now we must go softly.” |

In a part of the woods where the oak trees
were scattering, stood a thicket of white thorns,
with graceful, shining green leaves, thickly orna-
FAITHFULNESS. 35

mented with clusters of fragrant blossoms, which
glittered like snow in the rays of the setting sun.

Little George pointed with his finger into the
thicket, and said, softly, to the prince, “There!
peep in once, Mr. Prince! the lady bird is sitting
on her eggs.”

The prince looked, and had the satisfaction of
seeing her on her nest. They stood quite still, but
the bird soon flew away, and the prince, with the
greatest pleasure, examined the neat, yellow straw
nest, and the smooth, blue eggs. The tutor made
many excellent remarks, and gave the prince some
information in the meantime.

“ Now come with us, and receive the money we
promised you,” said the tutor to George. “But
the gold piece will not be so good for you as silver
money.”

He took out his purse and counted down on a
stone, before the astonished George,” the worth of
the gold piece in bright new shillings.

“Now divide fairly with Michel!” said the
prince.

“Qn honour!” answered George; and sprang,
with the money, out of their sight.

The tutor afterwards inquired whether George
had divided the money equally with Michel, and
found he had not given him a piece too little. His
own part, he carried to his father, and had not kept
a penny to himself.

Prince Frederick went every day to the bird’s
36 FAITHFULNESS.

nest. At first, the birds were a little afraid of
him, but when they saw that he did not disturb
them, they lost their fear, and went and came
freely, before him.

The prince’s delight was full when he saw how
the Jittle birds crept from their shells. How they
all opened their yellow bills and piped loud, when
the parents brought their food. How the young
nestlings grew, were covered with soft down, and
then with feathers; and at length, one day, amid
the loud rejoicings of the parents, they ventured
their first flight to the nearest twig of the thorn-
tree, where the old birds fed them tenderly.

The prince and his tutor often met little George
as he tended his sheep, while they strayed,—now
here, now there. The tutor was much pleased to
observe that he always had his book with him, and
spent all his spare time in reading,

“You know how to amuse yourself in the best
manner, George,” said he to the boy. -“I should
be pleased to hear you read a little from that book
which you love so well.”

George read aloud, with great zeal, and although
he now and then miscalled a word, he did his best,
and the tutor was pleased.

“That is very well,” said he. “In what school
did you learn to read 2”

“ T have never been in any school,” said George,
sadly. “The school is too far off, and my father
had no money to pay for it. Besides, I have not
FAITHFULNESS. 37

any time to go to school. In summer I tend the
sheep, and in winter I spin at home. But my good
friend, Michel, can read very well, and he has
promised to tell me all he knows. He taught me
all the letters, and the lines of spelling. . This is
the same book that Michel learnt from. He gave
it to me, and I have read it through three times.
To be sure, it is so worn out now, that you cannot
see all the words, and it is not so easy to read
as it was.”

The next time the prince came to the woods, he

, Showed George a beautiful book, bound in gilded
morocco.

“TI will lend you this book, George,” said the
prince, “and as soon as you can read a whole page
without one mistake, it shall be yours.”

Little George was much delighted, and took it
with the ends of his fingers, as carefully as if it
had been made of a spider-web, and could be as
easily torn,

The next time they met, George gave the book
to the prince, and said, “I will try to read any
page that you may please to choose from the first
six leaves.” The prince chose a page, and George
read it without making a mistake. So the prince

_ gave him the book for his own.

One morning the king came to the hunting
castle on horseback, with only one attendant. He
wished to see, by himself, what progress his son
was making in his studies. At dinner, the prince
38 FAITHFULNESS.

gave him an account of the bird’s nest, and the
noble conduct of the little shepherd.

“In truth,” said the tutor, “that boy is a pre-
cious jewel. He would make «4 most valuable ser-
vant for our beloved prince; and as God has en-
dowed him with rare qualities, it is much to be
wished that he should be educated. His father is
too poor to do anything for him; but with all his
talents and nobleness of character, it would be a
pity, indeed, that he should be left here, to make
nothing but a poor shepherd like his father.”

The king arose from table, and called the tutor
toa recess of one of the windows, where they
talked long together. After it was ended, he sent
to call George to the castle.

Great was the surprise of the poor shepherd-boy,
when he was shewn into the rich saloon, and saw
the dignified man, who stood there, with a glittering
star on his breast. The tutor told him who the
stranger was, and George bowed himself almost to
the earth.

“My good boy,” said the king in a friendly
tone, “I hear you take great pleasure in reading
your book. Should you like to study ?”

“Ah! said George, “if nothing was wanting
but my liking it, I should be a student to-day. But
my father has no money. That is what is wanting.”

“Then we will try whether we can make a stu-
dent of you,” said the king. “The prince’s tutor
here has a friend, an excellent country curate, who
FAITHFULNESS. 39

takes well-disposed boys into his house to educate.
To this curate I will recommend you, and will be
answerable for the expenses of your education.
How does the plan please you ?”

The king expected that George would be very
much delighted, and seize his grace with both
hands. And, indeed, he began to smile at first,
with much seeming pleasure, but immediately after,
a troubled expression came over his face, and he
looked down in silence.

“ What is the matter ?” said the king ; “ you look
more like crying than being pleased with my offer,
let us hear what it is ?”

“Ah! sir,” said George, “my father is so poor
what [ earn in summer by tending sheep, and in
winter by spinning, is the most that he has to
live on. To be sure it is little, but he cannot do
without it.”

“You are a good child,” said the king, very
kindly. ‘ Your dutiful love for your father is more
precious than the finest pearl in my casket. What
your father loses by your changing the shepherd’s
crook and spinning-wheel, for the book and pen,
I will make up with him. Will that do?’

George was almost out of his senses for joy. He
kissed the king's hand, and wet it with tears of
gratitude, then darted out to carry the joyful news
to his father. Soon, father and son both returned,
with their eyes full of tears, for they could only ex-
press their thanks by weeping. When George’s
40 FAITHFULNESS.

education was completed, the king took him into
his service, and after the king's death, he became
counsellor to the prince—his successor.

His father's last days were easy and happy, by
the comforts which the integrity of the poor shep-
herd-boy had procured him.

Michel, the firm friend, and first teacher of the
prince’s favourite, was appointed to the place of
forester, and fulfilled all his duties well and faith-

Sully.


4]

THE GREAT MAN.
WRITTEN FOR VERY YOUNG READERS.

I wit tell you a tale of a great man who loved
justice.

He had two sons whom he also loved.

Now, he had himself made a law, that whoever
sought to harm the peace of the country where he
lived, should die.

There was a sad cabal against the peace of the
country soon after the law was made:

And the great man’s two dear sons were at the
head of this wicked party. Their names were in
the list of bad men.

This great man loved justice more than he loved
his two sons.

He, therefore, made firm his heart, and sat upon
his rich throne, and gave the word that his two
sons shouldbe brought before him ;

And he passed sentence on them, as he would
have done on strangers :

_ For, he thought, why should they not suffer for
their faults ?
49 THE GREAT MAN.

We punish the poor and ignorant for their
crimes :

So, it is just that we should punish the rich and
those who know better, too. 3

And this great man gave orders that his sons
should be beaten with rods; and that then their
heads should be cut off.

And there he sat upon his seat, as judge,—pale
and cold, but firm and brave.

And when all was past—when both his sons
were dead, and their warm blood lay shed on the
ground before him :

Then, when the judge had done his duty, but
not before, he gave way to the love of the fatlrer.

He arose and left his seat ;

Ife went to his own house, and, there wept and
mourned many days. |

The name of this great man was Brutus.

Think upon his name, but think more of the true
love of justice and judgment. °

This little tale is a fact that happened at Rome.

You have heard of Rome, I dare Say; and you
will know more of it as you grow up.
43

PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.
THE AIR THERMOMETER.

It is a very good amusement for ingenious boys at
home, in the long winter evenings, to construct
such philosophical instruments, or perform such
experiments, as are practicable, with such materials
and means as are within their reach. It is true,
that this may sometimes make parents or an older
sister some trouble, but with proper care on the
part of the young philosophers, this trouble will not
be great, and parents will generally be willing to
submit to it for the sake of having their children
engaged in an entertaining and instructive employ-
ment. We shall, therefore, give our readers such
lessons in practical philosophy, as we suppose may
be of use. In this article we will show them how
they may, with few materials and ordinary in-
genuity, construct an Air thermometer.

The materials which will be wanted are these :—
44 PHILOSOPHY AT HOMER.

a glass phial_—one that is broad at the base in
proportion to its height, so as to stand firm, is
desirable,—a glass tube of small bore, six or eight
inches long,—a cork to fit the mouth of the phial,
—a little sealing-wax, a lamp, and a small pitcher
of water. The work may be safely done upon the
parlour-table, previded that the materials are all
placed upon a large tea-tray, with an old newspaper,
or a sheet of wrapping-paper spread over it. The
paper will then’ intercept any drops of hot sealing-
wax which may chance to fall, and which might
otherwise injure the tray, and the tray itself will
receive whatever may be spilt.

The only article of the above materials in
regard to which the reader will have any difficulty,
1s the tube. Such a tube, however, can usually
be procured at an apothecary’s, at a very trifling
expense. One about the dimensions of a pipe-
stem will be best. In constructing the instru-
ment, this tube is to be passed down through
the cord, which is to be placed in the neck of
the phial, the lower end to go below the surface
of a little water, which is to be put in the bottom
of the phial.

The appearance of the instrument, when com-
pleted and fitted with a scale, as will be explained
hereafter, is represented in the annexed wood-cut.
In. constructing the instrument, the operations, or
the manipulations, as the philosophers call them,
are,
THE AIR THERMOMETER. 45

First, to bore a hole through the cork,
to receive the tube. 3

Second, to cement the tube into the
cork.

Third, to cement the cork into the
phial.

1. The first thing is to bore a hole
through the cork, and this must be just
large enough to admit the glass tube.—
After turning in the gimlet a little way,
: it should be drawn out straight, by which
means the chips will be drawn out, and then it
should be put in again. For a gimlet will not clear
its own way in cork, as it will in wood. By draw-
ing it out, however, in the manner above described,
taking care to operate gently, so as-not to split the
cork, and to guide the gimlet straight through the
centre of the cork, the hole may be bored without
much difficulty. If the hole is not quite large
enough, it may be widened by a penknife which
has a narrow blade, or it may be burnt out to a
proper size with a hot knitting-needle, or a piece
of iron wire. And thus the hole is bored through
the cork.

2. The next thing is to cement the tube to the
cork. In order to do this, the water is first to be
poured into the phial. About-one quarter or one
fifth as much as the phial will contain, will be
sufficient. When this is done, the neck of the
phial inside should be wiped dry, for the cork is to


46 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

be sealed into it, and unless the glass is dry, the
sealing-wax will not adhere. Then the tube is to
be passed through the cork, and the cork put into
its place, and the tube slippped down until the
lower end reaches below the surface of the water,
and nearly touches the bottom of the phial. Ob-
serve, then, at what part of the tube the cork
comes, for this part is to be heated, and covered
with sealing-wax, in order to seal if into the cork.
It may be marked with a touch of ink from a pen,
at a point just above where it issues from the cork.
Then take out the cork with the tube from the
phial, and slip the cork along down towards the
lower end of the tube, so that you can put the wax
upon the glass.

In order to cover the part of the tube, which is
to pass through the cork, with sealing-wax, it must
be heated ; for sealing-wax will not adhere to glass,
or any other smooth or hard substance, if it is cold.
To heat glass requires some care. It must be
heated gradually, and one part must not be made
very hot, while the adjoining parts remain cold;
for glass will not bear sudden changes of tempera-
ture, or a great difference of temperature in conti-
guous parts. Therefore, in heating the glass, you
must proceed gradually. Hold the part over the
flame of a lamp, but not so as to touch the flame,
and move it backward and forward, so as to warm
a portion of one or two inches in length, equally.
Then you can hold it more steadily, in such a
THE AIR THERMOMETER. 47

manner as to heat the central portion. As you
do this, hold a stick of sealing-wax, so as to touch
the hottest part of the glass with it occasionally,
that is, the part immediately below the ink mark.
When the glass is hot enough to melt the sealing-
wax, the glass will coat itself with the wax. After
holding it a moment over the flame, turning it
round and round, so as to melt all parts of the wax
equally, the cork is to be slipped back again over
it-into its place, where it will become firmly fixed,
as the work cools. Thus the tube will be cemented
into the cork. .

3. Nothing now remains but to cement the
cork into the neck of the phial. The cork ought
to be of such a size, that it will go well down into
the neck of the phial, so as to have the top of it
a little below the upper part of the neck. For the
whole of the upper part of the cork ought to be
covered with sealing wax, in order to make it air
tight, and this can be best done if the glass rises a
little above the top of the cork. If necessary,
therefore, the upper part of the cork must be
carefully removed with a penknife, and then, when
it is properly fitted, the sides may be covered with
sealing wax, by heating the wax in the lamp and
rubbing it on all around. When it is covered
with a thin coat of wax, it should be held over the
lamp a moment, turning it round and round, until
it is melted in every part; and the neck of the
phial should be heated in the same gradual and
48 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. |

cautious manner recommended in the ease of the
tube. When both are of the proper temperature,
the cork must be pressed down into its place.
Before the wax cools, see that the bottom of
the tube does not quite touch the bottom of the
phial, and observe also that the tube stands*per-
pendicular. If it does not, it may be gently
pressed to one side or the other, as may be re-
quired, and held so until the wax has cooled, when
it will retain its position. The top of the cork
must then be covered with sealing wax, and the
surface smoothed by holding it over a lamp until

its inequalities run together. Thus the cork will.

be cemented into the phial, and the air thermome-
ter completed, with the exception of the scale.
And the following experiments can be performed
with it :—

Exp. 1. On examining the instrument, it will
be observed that there is a portion of air closely
confined in the upper part of the phial. It cannot
escape up the tube, for the water covers the
lower end of the tube. If now the instrument
is put into a warm place, so as to expand this
body of air within the phial, the force of the
expansion will press against the water, and cause a
portion of it to rise in the tube. When so much
water has thus ascended as is necessary to allow
such a degree of additional space within, as will
enable the expansive furce of the air within exactly
to balance the pressure in the top of the tube from
THE AIR THERMOMETER. 49

without, the water will remain at rest. If now
the air is warmed still more, the expansion will
cause the water to rise still higher, until the two
forces are again in equilibrium.

Exp. 2. When the water has been forced into
the tube as high as it will rise under the greatest
heat to which it is safe to expose it, it may be
carried again into a cool place. The heat
which was in the air and the glass will now
pass off, and the air within will lose some
of its expansive force, and will evince a tendency
to return to its former dimensions. This will be
shown by the subsidence of the water in the tube. -
Thus by carrying the instrument successively into
warm and cold places, the surface of the water in
the tube will be found to rise and fall, thus indi-
cating, by the level at which it stands, the tempera-
ture of the air around it, at its several places of
exposure. A scale for this thermometer may be
formed of pasteboard, and fastened to the tube by
threads or slits in the pasteboard, or, in any other
convenient manner.

Exp. 3. When the instrument is cooled, the
water in the tube does not simply fall by its own
weight. It is foreed down by the pressure of the
outward atmosphere. For although the expansive
force of the air within is diminished by the cold,
there is stilk force left, far more than sufficient to
counteract the weight of the water. So that

the water descends, not by its own weight, but by
D
50 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

the pressure of the atmosphere without, acting upon
the surface of the water in the tube. This may be
proved in the following manner. Raise the water
in the tube as high as possible, by placing the in-
strument before the fire, and then stop the upper
end of the tube with the thumb, or a little hot
sealing-wax. Now, ifthe thermometer be taken to
a cool place, it will be found that the water will
not fall. The pressure from above in the tube
being taken off, the water is kept up by the ex-
pansive force which still remains in the air within.
When the stopper is removed from the tube, so as
to allow the external atmosphere to press upon
the water again, it will immediately subside.
Exp.4. Whatever may have been the tempera-
ture of the room where the thermometer was made,
the water in the tube will be, when at that tem-
perature, just level with the water in the phial;
and of course, when it begins to rise, it will be
some little time before it gets up above the neck of
the phial. Now as it can be seen better above the
neck of the phial than below, it is convenient to
have the instrument so adjusted, as to have the sur-
face of the water in the tube always kept above.
This can be effected by forcing a little more air
into the phial, thus increasing the expansive force
within. A few bubbles of air may be blown in
with the breath, by applying the mouth to the top
of the tube. This will add to the force within, so
that, even when the thermometer is cold, the
THE AIR THERMOMETER. 51

water will stand in the tube above the neck of
the phial, and all the changes that take place will
be above that level, where they can be easily seen.

Exp. 5. Place the mouth at the top of the
tube, and blow down into it as long and as hard
as youcan. By this means you will force air in,
until the expansive force within is increased so
much that you cannot any longer overcome it.
Then, before taking the mouth away, stop the up-
per part of the tube with the thumb. You will
now have so great a quantity of air within, that it
will probably have force enough to raise the water
higher than the top of the tube. If so, on taking
away the thumb the water will spout out at the
top, in a jet,—doing no harm, however, except to
sprinkle the spectators. After a few such experi-
ments, you will find that the water has spouted
itself all out, and you will be sadly puzzled to know
how to get more in without taking out the cork.
There is a very easy way, if you only had philoso-
phical knowledge enough to discover it.




THE RABBIT.

A STORY FOR LITTLE READERS.

“ Henry, dear, do come out to walk, this beautiful
afternoon. Jam going, and do not want to go
alone; please come, won't you 2”
THE RABBIT. 53

“ Supposing I should say, No; I won’t go; what
would you do, sister 2”

“TI should say, well, suit yourself, brother Henry,
and [ll try to go alone; but I do wish you would
go with me, it is so pleasant to have some one, and
I would rather have you than any one else.”

“ Well, you are a darling, good little girl, and I
will go with you.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Henry,” said
Caroline ; and they were soon in the shady lane
which extended from their father’s house to their
uncle’s, who was their next neighbour.

Caroline and Henry wandered on, admiring the
beautiful things which surrounded them, and now
and then stopping to pick a flower. Often Caro-
line would leave Henry, examining some plant,
(for he was quite a botanist,) and walk along
without him.

“Come, Henry; let us walk as far as the brook,
and then we'll go home.”

“ Just wait till I see what this curious flower ie”
said Henry. But Caroline did not mind him, and
continued walking slowly along, that he might catch
up with her, when he was ready. Presently she .
stopped ; her eyes sparkled, and she almost screamed
with delight ; for, on the ground before her, was
a beautiful white rabbit. She held her breath for
fear of frightening it; but though she drew nearer
the dear little creature did not seem disposed to run
away ; and she soon perceived that it had hurt its
54. THE RABBIT.

foot very much, so that it could not walk. Caroline
took the rabbit in her arms, and as she was quite
near the brook, she thought she would give it
some water; so she stepped on the little bridge,
but when there, she found that she had no means
of getting any, and she called aloud :

“ Henry, come quick; I have found a rabbit al-
most dead; come quick.” Henry was soon at her
side. “Let me see,” said he; and he bent for-
ward to look at it. “ Poor little thing, we will take
you home and nurse you till you are well again.”

“Dont you think, brother, that it would drink
some water 2”

“ No, no; we had better take it home at once,
and mother will tell us what to do.” And the two
children hastened home with all speed. Their kind
mother gave them directions for their new-found
pet, and in a week it was quite well, and their
parents gave them leave to keep it to play with,
after they had learned their lessons, and as long as
they were kind towards this curious little creature.




\ 4

WI ‘I “7
WA ® hye
Nm jas

f “ o
55

THE SLEIGH RIDE.

“On, I'm afraid! I'm afraid!” William Jones cried,
shrinking back, as his father took his hand, in thé
act of leading him forward to lift him into a beauti-
ful sleigh, that had just drove up to the door, and
in which his mother and elder sister were already
seated; their feet comfortably wrapped up ina
warm buffalo robe.

“ Afraid! what are you afraid of?” Mr. Jones
asked, in a tone of surprise.

“Oh, Im afraid the horses will run away—or
that the sleigh will break. Irdeed, I’d rather not
go.”

“ Do you not think that your mother, and sister
Ellen, and myself, will be in just the danger you
fear ?”

“ Yes.”

“ And is not my son willing to share that danger
with those he loves 2”

“But why do you go, father, when there is
danger 2” |

“ We do not think that we shall be in any more
56 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

real danger, while riding with two gentle horses,
than we would be if we were sitting in the house,
or walking in the street. But come, William; I
cannot stand talking to you here; and it is quite
necessary that you try to overcome your fears. So
jump in, and take your place alongside of sister
Ellen.”

“ But, indeed, { would rather not go, father,”
William urged, holding back. | 7

Mr. Jones said no more, but took his boy up
gently, though firmly, and placed him beside his
sister. ‘Then he got in himself,—took hold of the
reins,—spoke to his two fine horses, and at once
the whole party began to move off; the sleigh bells
jingling a merry tune.

Poor little William clung, frightened, to his sis-
ter; and it was a good while before he could get
over the idea that the very next moment they
would all be thrown over and dashed to pieces.
After a while, however, he got used tothe motion
of the sleigh, and seeing that they passed on so
smoothly, safely, and merrily, the idea of danger
gradually faded from his mind; and long before he
reached his uncle’s house, he was enjoying the ride
as much as the rest.

William’s cousins were all delighted to see him,
and he spent with them one of the happiest days in
his life.

And when the time came for Mr. Jones and
his family to return, William parted, with a feeling
THE SLEIGH RIDE. 57

of reluctance, from his happy playmates. As he
again stood by the sleigh, and looked at the two
stout horses that were harnessed to it, he felt his
old fear stealing over his mind. But he was not
only now ashamed of that fear, but felt that to
indulge in it was not right. So, with his best
effort, he restrained it—stepping resolutely into
the sleigh.

The last “ good-byes” said, Mr. Jones gave the
word, and off they went. When about half of the
way home, and at a time when even the lingering
remains of William’s timidity had passed away,
two wild young men, half intoxicated, came dash-
ing along in another sleigh, at a most furious rate.
Bent on mischief, and thoughtless of the harm
they might occasion, they appeared determined to
frighten the horses attached to other sleighs, and
thereby cause those who were in them to be thrown
out into the snow-banks.

It so happened that the sleigh in which were
Mr. Jones and-his family, were passing near a
steep declivity, at the time these young men came
up to them, and ran their horses so close upon
those of Mr. Jones, that he was compelled either
to be rolled down the bank, or receive the shock
of their sleigh against his own. He chose the
latter alternative. As the two vehicles struck
each other, that of Mr. Jones was nearly thrown
Over, and it so happened that Ellen, who was
much alarmed, lost her balance, and but for the
58 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

fact that William, himself dreadfully frightened,
seized hold of, and clung to her with all his
strength, she would have been thrown down a
very steep hill, and, perhaps, have been killed.
As it was, however, no one was injured.

“Tf it hadn’t been for me,” William said,
while they were all talking over the matter, on
arriving at home, “ Ellen would have been pitched
head foremost down that steep bank.”

“ But if you had staid at home,” his father re-
marked, “it would not have been in your power
thus to have saved, perhaps, your sister’s life.
And now, ant you glad, my son, you were with
us ?”

“ Yes, father, I am very glad now.”

“Suppose, William,” Mr. Jones asked, in a
serious tone, “that in the effort to save your
sister, you had yourself been thrown out of the
sleigh, and badly hurt, would you then have been
sorry that you went with us ?”

William paused for some moments, with a
thoughtful countenance. He was weighing the fear
of bodily pain against his love for Ellen. At last
he said, with the moisture dimming his eyes,

* No! I would not have been sorry, father.”

“ Why not, William ?”

* Because, I would only have been badly hurt ;
while, if I had not been along with her, sister
might have been killed.”

“ Very true, my dear boy! And now, you re-
THE SLEIGH RIDE. 59

member how often I have talked to you about
selfishness, and what an evil thing this selfish-
ness is 2”

“ Yes, father.”

“Well, this feeling of timidity, which you in-
dulge so much, is a selfish feeling.”

“ Selfish, father! How can that be 2”

“ Because there is nothing in it of self-sacrifice
for the happiness or comfort of others.”

“T cannot understand you, father.”

“T do not know that it will be in my power to
make you understand me fully, William. But I
will try. You knew, this morning, that it would
give your father and mother pleasure to have you
with them, and also that your cousins would be
delighted to see you. But your idle fear, lest some
accident should happen, made you unwilling to go.
You would not risk anything for the sake of others.
If the great and good General Washington, when
called upon to take command of the American
army, had refused to do so, because there was
danger of his being killed; cannot you see that in
that feeling there would have been a strong prin-
ciple of selfishness ?”

“Qh, yes. If he had done so, he would have
been very selfish. He would have thought more
of personal safety that the good of his country.”

“Just so, William, will you think, when you
grow up to be a man, if you do not conquer this
timid feeling, which you now indulge. You must
60 THE SLEIGH RIDE.

learn, for the good of others, to risk personal
danger, and to be willing to bear pain of body as
well as mind, if called upon to suffer while doing
your duty to others. Of danger, it is not our place
to think, when fully satisfied we are doing right ;
knowing that the Lord’s providence is over all, and
that He will not suffer any harm to befall us that
is not really for our good. Learn, also, this harder
lesson,—a willingness to encounter bodily pain, and
even great danger, for the good of others.”

tone

we
Mt)

| 7
a i
» me ay wr


61



STORY OF A GREYHOUND.

LLEWELLYN, son-in-law to King John, had in his
possession one of the finest greyhounds in England.
His name was Gelert. One day Llewellyn, going
out to hunt, called all his dogs together; but his
favourite greyhound was missing, and nowhere to be
found. He blew his horn as a signal of the chase,
and still Gelert came not. Llewellyn was much
disturbed at this, but at length pursued the chase
without him. |

For want of Gelert, the sport was limited ; and
getting tired, Llewellyn returned home at an early
hour, when the first object that presented itself to
him at his castle gate, was Gelert, who bounded
with his usual transport to meet his master—having
his lips besmeared with blood. Llewellyn gazed
with surprise at the strange appearance of his dog.
But on going into the apartment where he had left
his infant son asleep, he found the bedclothes all
62 THE GREYHOUND.

in confusion, the cover rent, and stained with blood.
He called on his child, but no answer was made:
from which he concluded that the dog must have
devoured him, and, without waiting to reflect, or
examine, plunged his sword to the hilt in Gelert’s
side. The noble dog fell at his feet, uttering a
dying yell which awoke the infant, who was sleep-
ing beneath a heap of mingled bedclothes; while
under the bed lay a great wolf, covered with gore,
which the faithful and gallant hound had destroyed.

Llewellyn, smitten with sorrow and remorse for
the rash and frantic deed which had deprived him
of so faithful an animal, caused an elegant marble
monument, with an appropriate inscription, to be
erected over the spot. where Gelert was buried, to
commemorate his fidelity and unhappy fate. The
place, to this day, is called Beth-Gelert, or “The
grave of the greyhound.”


63

THE TRUANT.

[ RECEIVED part of my education at a beautiful
town on the banks of the river Trent. It was
here, while a boy, that I first learned the danger of
disobedience. ‘The precept had been instilled in
my mind a thousand times, and | knew it was the
command of heaven that we should respect and
obey our parents and teachers ; but I had never felt
either the danger or the criminality of a disre-
gard of the Divine command till after the following
event.

It was December; and the river, on whose
beautiful banks the academy was situated, was
frozen over, so that people could travel, and sport
upon it in safety. It was a favourite diversion of
the students, most of whom were between ten and
fifteen years old, to play ball upon the ice, upon
skates; and many times nearly the whole school,
consisting of fifty youths, was collected in one game
on the glassy surface of the frozen stream. We
grew, at length, so fond of this recreation, that we
began to encroach upou the hours of study. The
64 THE TRUANT.

bell rang unheeded, and when we came into school,
we were, as we deserved to be, reprimanded by
our good and indulgent preceptor ; and many of our
number, ashamed of their behaviour, refused to
offend in like manner again. It was not so with
us all.

One day, a part of our number having staid out
upon the river more than a quarter of an hour after
the bell had done ringing, one of the boys was sent
for us; but we soon forgot that we had been called,
and continued our game. Shortly we saw the pre-
ceptor, himself, coming down to the river. We
were then alarmed; and all, but myself and
Nathaniel Beecher, ran, by a round-about way, to
the shore and to school. We resolved to stay the
whole afternoon. The preceptor came out upon
the wharf, and called to us to come to him. Fear-
ing that we should be taken back to school and
punished, we resolved not to answer, and pretended
not to hear him. After repeatedly calling us, and
receiving no answer, he came upon the ice; but when
he had walked a short distance from the shore we
saw that we were in no danger of his catching us,
as the ice was very smooth. At length, in an at-
tempt to catch me, the preceptor slipped and fell
heavily upon the ice. I stood still, and dared not
go near, for fear he would punish me; but I
was now verysorry for what we haddone. Our
preceptor had always been kind to us, and my feel-
ings were hurt to think [had been so ungrateful.
THE TRUANT. 65

Meantime he had got up, and with a painful effort
walked to the shore. I followed him, and Nat
went off towards the other side of the river. As I
approached the shore, I turned to see where he
was going, continuing to skate backwards as I
looked. Suddenly I found myself in the water. I
had fallen into a hole which had been eut for fish-
ing. As I dropped I threw out my arms, and thus
sayed myself from going under; but the current
was very strong, and it was with the utmost diffi-
culty that I could hold myself above the water. I
felt as though some evil spirit beneath the water
was dragging me under, and my heart sunk within
me. At length I was drawn out of the water by
my preceptor. He spoke kindly to me, and said he
would take me home, that I might change my
clothes. I was very much affected. I had pre-
pared myself to bear my well-merited punishment;
. but when I heard his kind and gentle tones, and
saw that he was not angry, I burst into a passionate
flood of tears, and, dropping on my knees, begged
his pardon for my bad behaviour. He took me
up at once, and told me never to kneel but to the
Lord, that he would forgive me. We had nearly
reached the shore, when I looked round for Nat.
He was looking towards us, and skating along with
his arms folded, and all at once dropped beneath
the ice and disappeared. He had, while looking
at us, skated into an air-hole. I involuntarily
screamed, and started with all speed for the place.
E
66 THE TRUANT.

The preceptor followed, having guessed the cause
of my exclamation.

The accident had been seen from the shore, and
many persons came hurrying to the spot, and
among them the father of the boy. He was told,
on shore, that it was his oldest son; and rushing
to the spot, and putting his head down in the hole,
held it there a long time, looking, but all was in
vain. The rapid tide had borne him far down the
river, and his body was never more seen.

The events of this day taught me the lesson of
obedience. It stamped upon my mind the truth,
that the first great duty, next to our devotion to
our Maker, is respect and obedience to those who
are placed in authority over us. I never again
played truant.


67

HT Ta

Diy

I;

Pry fa \ . oa i
ed I \ Wo
F o Ai NY t
11}}{ kd || AS Ye }
TTY} iH ea |



A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

Ou! the happy summer hours,

With their butterflies and flowers,

And the birds among the bowers
Sweetly singing ;

With the spices from the trees,

Vines, and lilies, while the bees

Come floating on the breeze,

Honey bringing !

All the east was rosy red

When we woke and left our bed,

And to gather flowers we sped,
Gay and early.
A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

Every clover-top was wet,

And the spider's silky net,

With a thousand dew-drops set,
Pure and pearly.

With their modest eyes of blue,

Were the violets peeping through

Tufts of grasses where they grew,
Full of beauty,

At the lamb in snowy white,

O’er the meadow bounding light,

And the crow just taking flight,
Grave and sooty.

On our floral search intent,

Still away, away we went,—

Up and down the rugged bent,—
Through the wicket,—

Where the rock with water drops,—

Through the bushes and the copse,—

Where the greenwood pathway stops
In the thicket.

We heard the fountain gush,

And the singing of the thrush ;

And we saw the squirrel’s brush
In the hedges,

As along his back ‘twas thrown,

Like a glory of his own,

While the sun behind it, shone
Through its edges.

All the world appeared ‘so fair,

And so fresh and free the air,—

Oh! it seemed that all the care
In creation
A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE. «69

Belonged to God alone; _
And that none beneath his throne,
Need to murmur or to groan

At his station.

Dear little brother Will !
He has leapt the hedge and rill,—
He has clambered up the hill,
Kre the beaming
Of the rising sun, to sweep
With its golden rays the steep,
Till he’s tired and dropt asleep,
Sweetly dreaming.

See, he threw aside his cap,
And the roses from his lap,
When his eyes were, fer the nap,
Slowly closing :
With his sunny curls outspread,
On its fragrant mossy bed,
Now his precious infant head
Is reposing.

He is dreaming of his play—

How he rose at break of day,

And he frolicked all the way
On his ramble.

And before his fancy’s eye,

He has still the butterfly

Mocking him, where not so high
He could scramble.

In his cheek the dimples dip,

And a smile is on his lip,

While his tender finger-tip
Seems as aiming
70

A SUMMER MORNING RAMBLE.

At some wild and lovely thing

That is out upon the wing,

Which he longs to catch and bring
Home for taming.

While he thus at rest is laid

In the old oak’s quiet shade,

Let’s cull our flowers to braid,
Or unite them

In bunches trim and neat,

That, for every friend we meet,

We may have a token sweet
To delight them.

‘Tis the very crowning art
Of a happy, grateful heart
To others to impart

Of its pleasure.
Thus its joys can never cease,
For it brings an inward peace,
Like an every-day increase

Of a treasure !


71

THE HOTTENTOTS.

AT the southern part of Africa, a great many
years ago, there lived a simple race of uncivilized
people,—to whom the name of Hottentots has
been since given,—who supported themselves in
their rude way, and kept sheep and herds, whose
milk served them for food, and whose skins kept
them warm.

The Dutch people, who were very fond of sailing
about in their ships, came to this part of the world,
and finding the country pleasant, and a great many
delicious fruits in it, they resolved to make a set-
tlement, and have a town of their own there.

The Hottentots did not like very much to have
anew kind of people settling down among them,
and as they had been used to fighting with wild
beasts, and were quite brave, they did all they
could to keep the people away. |

But the Dutch had so much more skill and
knowledge than the poor Hottentots, that they
soon got the better of the savages, and the natives
AN

ee\ NL i i

Et
WTI
aN )



\ i HH} | I ‘E
| , WU te
PTY he <=
a 2
THE HOTTENTOTS. to

were obliged to allow them to settle in their
country.

The Europeans, when they heard of this plea-
sant, warm country, came in great numbers, and
each emigrant was allowed to receive for his farm
as much land as an officer appointed for the pur-
pose, could walk across in an hour. They probably
always tried to get a tall man, who could take
pretty long steps. Whether they asked the poor
natives’ consent to this arrangement, the history
does not say; but at the end of a hundred and
fifty years, the Hottentots had been deprived of
all their land, and were compelled to work for
their invaders, except that some of the more fero-
cious and bolder tribes retreated to the deserts,
and remain in a savage state to this day.

The colony afterwards fell into the hands of the
British, and about eighteen years ago, the Hotten-
tots of the Cape, about thirty thousand in number,
were made free, and allowed to have all the privi-
leges enjoyed by the white inhabitants. .

Christian missionaries have visited this part of
the world, and many of the native inhabitants are
said to have been brought under the gentle: in-
fluence of Christianity. The Moravian missionaries,
some years ago, collected a number of the Hotten-
tots into a village, built a church, and instructed
them in many of the arts of civilized life. They
were taught several kinds of manufactures, and
74 THE HOTTENTOTS.

travellers speak of their establishment as being in
a very flourishing state.

In the year 1811, this place was visited by a
severe earthquake, which alarmed the people
greatly, as nothing of the kind had occurred since
the settlement of the town. It does not appear
from the accounts, that any lives were lost, but
many of the buildings were cracked, and in part
thrown down.

The Hottentots are said to be kind and gentle
in their natures, and hospitable to strangers. Those
who have been converted to Christianity, have left
off, for the most part, their rude sheepskin dress,
and wear a more civilized attire.

The picture at the beginning of this article
represents a native Hottentot, in his sheepskin
cloak, but the rest of his dress appears to be after
the European fashion. The more savage Hotten-
tots, who have never joined the colony, lead a
wandering life, living on wild roots, locusts, and
eggs, toads, lizards, mice, and such other food as
can be obtained in the deserts. They use, as
weapons of defence, the javelin, and bows and
arrows. Their arrows are small, but they are
tipped with poison, so that a wound from them is
generally fatal.

They teach their children early the use of the
bow and arrow; and some trayellers .say, that, to
do this, they sometimes put a little boy’s breakfast,
_ probably a nice toad, or half a dozen ant’s eggs, or
THE HOTTENTOTS. 75D

some other of their favourite kinds of food, up into
the high branches of a tree, and then make the
boy shoot his arrows at it, until he brings it down.
This gives him a good appetite, and teaches him
early the use of the bow and arrow.


76

PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.
THE WHISPERING FIGURE.
ILLUSTRATING THE PROPAGATION OF SOUNDS.

SounpD is propagated through a confined channel of
air, as for instance, a long tube, very perfectly. It
is not uncommon in large establishments, where it
is necessary to pass many orders to and fro, to have
such tubes laid in the walls, so that words can pass
through them from room to room. The experi-
ment may be tried in a leaden pipe, laid down for
an aqueduct, before the water is admitted, and it
will be found that the slightest whisper can be
heard for a distance of half a mile or more. This
tendency of a confined channel of air to increase
the distinctness of the sound passing through it,
may be shewn by a tube formed by rolling up a
large sheet of paper and whispering through it.
If the tube is gradually enlarged towards the outer
end, it greatly increases the loudness of the sound
PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. 77

transmited through it, as in the case of the horn,
the speaking trumpet, &c. ,
When the sound of a voice passes in this man-
ner through a tube, the voice always appears to
come from the end of the tube where the sound
issues, and not from the end where the words are
really spoken. This has given rise to an ingenious
contrivance called the whispering figure, which is
sometimes fitted up in museums for the entertain-
ment of visitors. It is as follows :—
. A large dog or other image
is placed upon a stand at a
little distance from the side
of the room. There is a tin
tube within the figure, one
end of which is opposite the
Ny; mouth, and the other passes
| Hiii| down through the floor, and
‘ M | thence along under the floor,
Lai as represented by the dotted
line in the cut. After passing
the partition, it is turned up, and opens in a funnel-
shaped extremity in the next room. If now a
person speaks or whispers at the outer end of the
tube, the persons who are in the room with the
figure will hear the sound coming through its lips,
as if the figure itself were speaking. The tube
being entirely concealed within the dress of the
figure, and under the floor, the spectators, not sus-
pecting such a communication with the next room,


78 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME.

wonder by what contrivance an image can be made
to speak.

This experiment is sometimes performed by
children in private, by placing a board across the
tops of two chairs, and covering it with cloth, so
as to represent a table. The tube comes up
through this board into the body of some image
placed upon the table, as a doll, a figure of a dog
or cat, or a grotesque effigy made by means of a
mask, In this case a person is concealed under
the table to whisper into the tube, in answer to
such questions as the spectators address to the
figure. Of course, all these arrangements are
made before the spectators are admitted to the
room.

Pry mn
aha he Kl Wa
mi NAb
nan 0
iH


79

STORY OF THE SEA.

’ Caprain ALBert had recently returned from a
long and perilous whaling voyage, and was seated
beside a bright blazing fire at his own hearth. His
wife sat opposite, with her youngest child in her
lap, while the two sons, Edward and William, stood
on each side looking earnestly in his face, that they
might be quite sure their father had indeed re-
turned, and that they were not stil] deceived by one
of those pleasant dreams with which they had been
so often visited during his absence.

‘ Oh, father,” said Edward, “the next time you
go, take me with you, do !”

“Tell us a story of the sea, will you not, father 2”
said William, at the same time.

“ Very well, my son, I will try,” replied their
father; “and that will, perhaps, change Edward’s
mind about going with me the next time.

“ One day, in the great Southern ocean, we had
followed a fine whale farther south than we had
ever before been. The whale was enormously
large, and I sawin a moment that if we could
|

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Ll
——S ee SS ee

—=——_ = =< = me


STORY OF THE SEA. 81

take it there would be oil enough to fill our casks,
and enable us to return home. Its motions were
very rapid, and we followed it as swiftly as we
could, but, after all, it escaped. I believe the
creature swam under water till it was out of the
reach of my glass. While I was looking out to try
to get a sight of it again, I espied something which
appeared to be an island, to the south, but while I
was looking at it I was sure it moved. It did
move, and we soon came near enough to see what
it was distinctly.. It. proved to be an iceberg,
shooting up to a great height, like one of the sharp-
pointed Alps, and spreading out to a wide extent,
on all sides. At the same time, the whole ocean,
as far south as the eye could reach, was covered
with floating ice.

“ The situation was full of danger, but the wind
was in our fayour, and I prepared to press all sail,
in hopes of escaping, when suddenly a shower of
hail and sleet rushed upon us with such fury that
some of the men were beaten down to the deck,
and all found it difficult to stand under it. The
sails, shrouds, and sheets, were all cased in ice,
stiffened, and almost as immoveable as if they had
been made of iron.

“T now began’ to blame myself severely for suf-
fering the whale to tempt meso far into those
regions of ice and storms. I looked with bitter re-
gret toward those faithful sailors who had trusted
their lives to my care, and who were now exposed

F
82 STORY OF THE SEA.

to unnecessary hardships and dangers by my boyish
rashness. The noble fellows never uttered a word
of complaint, but thezr generous fortitude did not
help to reconcile‘me to myself. Full of anxiety, I
took my glass to look out again for the iceberg.
While I was looking towards it, I spied some-
thing among the cakes of ice, which appeared like
some small craft; but I could not believe a vessel
of that size could have reached a latitude so far
south. A vessel, it certainly was—a small schooner,
sailing among the cakes of ice, as if it knew how to
pick its way alone, for I could not see a person
moving on her deck. We steered, as well as we
could, directly towards her. My ship was new and
strong, and well prepared, so that I did not much
fear the loose cakes of ice. When we were near
enough, I hailed the little craft, and thought I
heard a distant shout in reply. As we came nearer,
I saw a young man alone, and sitting upon the
helm, apparently managing it with the motions of
his body, so as to steer his little vessel safely
through.

, . * We all stood looking for a mo-
ment at the brave young man, with wonder and
admiration; but as soon as I ordered out a boat,
the sailors rushed to the side and began to work
with a will, although everything they touched was
eased in ice, and terrible to handle. Down went
the boat, and was manned in an instant. It was
not long before the young man was on board our
STORY OF THE SEA. 7 83

ship, but he would not leave the schooner until he
had seen a rope rigged to tow her after us. The
poor fellow was almost dead with cold and
hunger; he had not tasted any food for more
than twenty-four hours, as he told us afterwards.
He could hardly speak a word, and as soon as he
felt the warmth of the stove, he fainted entirely
away. We put him into a hammock, and did all
we could for him, and soon had the pleasure of
seeing him revive. After he had taken some warm
tea, he fell asleep, and slept till I began to fear he
would never awake again; but Providence had
provided him the refreshment he needed, and when
he awoke, the next day, he was well and lively. I in-
quired how he came into so strange a situation, when
he told me that four young men, without much con-
sideration, had purchased the vessel, and fitted her
up for a voyage of discovery into those far-off seas.
They had encountered a furious storm, which drove
them among the ice, near the place where they
were found. They had suffered very much with
cold and want of sleep, while the vessel was
every moment in danger of being crushed to
pieces.

“In this distress his companions began to drink
spirits to warm them. They offered him some, and
urged him to drink, but he replied it would make
him worse, and reminded them ofa ship which was
cast away one very severe winter, among the rocks
near his own native town, when all the sailors who.
84 STORY OF THE SEA. .

drank rum were frozen, while those who did not
drink, escaped. His companions, however, would
not listen to his advice, but confinued to drink,
and were soon unable to move, and were all frozen
to death, and were still on the déck, covered with
ice and sleet. Robert (this was the young man’s
name,) was saved by not drinking any of the rum,
but by using it outwardly, pouring it into his boots,
and a part into his bosom.”

“ But how did you escape that terrible iceberg,
and get out of that dreadful sea?” said Edward:
“were any of your men frozen ¢” .

“No,” replied Captain Albert; “we suffered
very severely, but we did not use any * fire-water,’
and every sailor who went out in the ship, returned
in good health; still, all that we were able to do
would have been no more than the fluttering of a
leaf in a whirlwind, without the help of Him, who,
you will remember, was once in ‘a little ship when
a great storm arose,’ and who said, ‘ Peace be still,
and there was a great calm.’ ”


85

THE OLD SLATE.

“JT HAVE a great mind to break this stupid old
slate,” said little Charlie Fidget, one morning, as
he sat over his first sum in subtraction.

“ Why, what has the poor slate done?” asked
the pleasant voice of his sister Helen, behind him.

“Nothing; just what I complain of; it won’t do
this plaguy sum for me; and here it is almost
school-time !”

“ What a wicked slate, Charles !”

“So itis. I mean to fling it out of the window
and break it to pieces on the stones.”

“ Will that do your sum, Charlie?”

“No; but if there were no slates in the world,
I should have no good-for-nothing sums to do.”

“Oh, ho! that does not follow, by any means.
Did slates make the science of arithmetic? Would
people neyer have to count or calculate, if there
were no slates? You forget pens, lead pencils and
paper: you forget all about oral arithmetic,
Charlie.”

‘Well, I don’t love to cipher, that’s all I know.”
86 THE OLD SLATE.

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——
——————
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“And so, you hasty boy, you get angry with the
poor harmless slate, that is so convenient when you
make mistakes and want to rub them out again.
Now that is the way with a great many thought-
less, quick-tempered people. They try to find
fault with somebody or something else, and get
into a passion, and perhaps do mischief, when if
they would but reflect a little, it is their own dear
selves who ought to bear the blame. Now, Char-
lie, let me see what I can do for you.”

So Helen sat down in her mother’s great easy-
chair; she tried to look grave and dignified, like
an old lady, though she was but eighteen. Charlie
THE OLD SLATE. 87

eame rather unwillingly, laid the slate in her lap,
and began to play with the trimming on her apron.
“ ‘Why, what is all this ?” said she; “soldiers, and
cats, and dogs, and houses with windows of all
shapes and sizes |”

Charlie looked foolish. “Oh, the sum is on the
other side,” said he, turning it over.

“Ah, silly boy,” said Helen; “here you have
been sitting half an hour drawing pictures, instead
of trying todo your sum. And now, which do you
think ought to be broken, you or the slate?” and
she held it up high, as if she meant to strike at
him with it.

Charlie looked up, with his hands at his ears,
making believe he was frightened, but laughing
all the while, for he knew she was only playing
with him. Presently, however, she put on a
serious face, and said, “ Now, my little man, you
must go to work in good earnest to make up for
lost time.”

“Qh, Helen, it wants only twenty minutes to
nine; I can’t possibly do this sum and get to
school by nine. I shall be late. What shall I
do? Miss Fletcher will certainly punish me if it
is not done. Can't you, just this once, Helen ?”

“No,” said Helen.

“Oh, do, there’s a dear, good sister; just this
once.”

“No, Charlie; there would be no kindness in
88 THE OLD SLATE.

that. You would never learn arithmetic in that
way.”

ay ust once,” still pleaded Charlie.

“ No,” answered Helen, in a kind, but resolute
tone: “if I do it once, you will find it harder to
be refused to-morrow; you will depend upon me,
and sit playing and drawing pictures, instead -of
ciphering. I will:keep you close at it till you
perform your task.”

So she passed her hand gently round him, and
though Charlie pouted at first, and could hardly
see through his tears, she questioned him about his
rule, and then began to show him the proper way
to do his sum, yet letting him work it out himself,
in such a pleasant manner, that he was soon
ashamed of being sullen. First she held the pen-
cil herself, and put down the figures as he told her
to do; and then she made him copy the whole,
nicely, on another part of the slate, and rub out
her figures.

After all this was finished patiently and dili-
gently, Charlie was surprised to find he should -
still be in good time for school.

“ Now, to-morrow, Charlie,” said Helen, “ don’t
waste a moment, but go to your lesson at once,
whatever it is, and you will find it a great saving,
not only of time, but of temper. You won't get
into a passion with this clever old slate of mine.
It went to school with me when I was a little girl,
and I should have been sorry if you had broken it
THE OLD SLATER. | 89

for not doing your work. Generally, Charlie,
when you see a person fidgety and angry, and com-
plaining of things and people, you may be sure he
has either done something he ought not to do, or
left undone something he ought to do.”

Away ran Charlie to school, thinking to himself,
“Well, I suppose I was wrong both ways. I
ought not to have been drawing soldiers, and I
ought to have been ciphering.”


90

| enn

ee
Aj el

) - af
oa
| ‘| al Ms



CHILDREN.

Tne early lark, that spreads its wings
And mounts the summer air,
Obeys its Maker while it sings
In morning carols there.

The skilful bee from flower to flower
Pursues its nectar’d store,

Nor has it instinct, skill or power
To please its Maker more.

But children, born with nobler powers,
In paths of vice may stray,

Or rise to virtue’s fragrant bower
In realms of endless day.

Then let me shun those wicked ways
Which lead to sin and shame,

So shall my heart be taught to praise
My Lord and Saviour’s name.
91



LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.

Lizzy was walking in a wood one day, and as she
stooped under a tree to gather some flowers that
grew at its foot, she heard a loud tapping high up
in the tree; she looked up, and there she saw,
clinging to a dead bough, that. industrious and
92 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.



happy bird, the woodpecker. “Are you going to
dig out a chamber for yourself there ?” asked Lizzy.
“That bough is too small, I should think.”

“Oh! I am not. doing carpentry work now,”
said the bird; ‘there are some nice little insects
under this bark,—sweet things !—which I love as
well as you love the lambs.”

«“ And yet you intend to make a meal upon them
—barbarous bird !”’

“Yes, as good a meal as you make upon the
lamb,—barbarous child! But let us forgive each
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 93

other; we must eat to live. You would love to
eat me if I were nicely cooked, and I should relish
you exceedingly if I could only change you into a
beetle-bug, or a grub of some ‘sort.” |

“Do not talk so, Mr. Carpenter: I would rather
§0 without my dinner than to have you killed and
cooked forme.”

“Ah! do you love me go well? Then I will
confide in you, and tell you a secret. My chamber
is in the trunk of this tree, and my six eggs lie on
the floor of it. Jump up here, and I will show it
to you.” ,

“I could not jump twenty feet into the air,” said
Lizzy.

“ Why! are you not twenty times longer than I
am ?”

“Oh, more; and more than forty times
heavier 2”

“ Well, well, I will go down and help. you up.”

“TI should like to know how you expect to help
me,” said Lizzy.

“We shall see ;” and the woodpecker flew down;
—hbut where is he? Lizzy looked about, and she
could not see him anywhere. |

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed a voice close by her ear ;
and Lizzy turned, and saw a pretty little fairy
figure standing close beside her. I was only acting
the woodpecker for my amusement. We fairies
are very fond of masquerading.” )

“Then I cannot see the woodpecker’s nest,” said
94 LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.

Lizzy. “It is too bad to disappoint me so, when I
did so want to see his pretty eggs.”

“Qh, if you wish to see some pretty eggs. I can
show you some as pretty as the woodpecker’s. I
have hundreds of them stowed away in a wood-
pecker’s hole, up in this very tree. I had come
here this morning to deposit some, and this is what
made me think of acting the woodpecker just
now.”

“Where did you get so many eggs? Do you
rob birds’ nests ?”

“Qh, no, indeed! they are not birds’ eggs; they
come down in the rain, and we use the large flower-
cups to catch them in.”

« And what will hatch from them?”

“Ah, that -is more than I can tell as yet. J
will give you some of them, and they will hatch
just such kind of creatures as you tell them to.”

«That is a very likely story,—but give me some,
do; and I will tell them to hatch most beautiful
birds and butterflies.”

“Stay; let me explain a little, before you count
your unhatched birds and butterflies. I will tell
you how to hatch them. Put them in your bosom,
and they will be hatched by its warmth; but what
is hatched from them must depend entirely upon
what kind of feeling shall warm your bosom, and
upon what deeds you do. If you have a wicked
feeling, an ugly creature will begin to form within
one of the eggs; and if you let that feeling cause
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 95

you to do anything wrong, then the egg will hatch.
Are you willing to take the risk of having spiders
and scorpions in your bosom, for the sake of the
hope that they may be pretty birds and butter-
flies ?”



“Oh, yes!” said Lizzy; “Ido not think I ever
have such bad feelings as spiders and scorpions are
made of.” ao

“ Come, then,” cried the fairy ; and she led Liazy
round to the other side of the tree, where she saw,
high up in the trunk, a woodpecker’s hole.

“ Run up,” cried the fairy.

“How can I? There is nothing but an ivy-vine
to cling to.”

“ You mistake,” said the fairy ; and she touched
the ivy-vine with her wand, and there was a nice
rope-ladder leading up to the woodpecker’s hole.
It was almost full of small, pearly white eggs.—
“Take out three or four,” gaid the fairy, “and put
96 LIZZY 3; A FAIRY TALE.

them in your bosom, and before you reach home,
they will very likely all be hatched.” :

“Oh, what pretty little things!” cried Lizzy, as
she took them out; “they shall certainly hatch
something pretty.”

She was going to put them all in her bosom at
once; but the fairy told her she had better put
only one in at a time, and the others in one of the
pockets of her apron; for it would be rather worse
if there should be several spiders running about in
her bosom, than only one.

“Oh, there will not be any,” said Lizzy ; “there
will be a pretty bird hopping about there—but I
will do as you advise.” She ran down the ladder,
and the fairy tripped along after her, and when
Lizzy turned to bid her good morning, she saw the
ivy-vine clasping the tree, and the woodpecker
tapping away at the bark.

Lizzy ran along through the wood, hoping that
something would happen to arouse in her breast a
good affection of some sort,—for there was nothing
there now but a mingled feeling of pleasure and
dread,—for a sweet-brier bush, for what purpose is
not known, caught hold of her dress, and thus
occasioned a frightful rent ; and sweet-brier bushes,
if they do bear sweet roses, do also love to play off
their jokes upon people, in quite as unbenevolent a
way as the blackberry and thorn.. But Lizzy
thought it no joke at all. What barbarous cruelty
- to tear her dress so, and then to hold upon it so
LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE. 97

relentlessly ! and whilst she was trying to force the
thorns to let go their hold, she became so angry
that she cried out, “Oh! I wish there was not a
sweet-brier bush in the world, I do! and T wish
this was dead and burnt up.” But before she had
released herself from the bush, she felt something
moving in her bosom. Putting her hand in, she
pulled out an empty egg-shell, while the wasp,
which had just been hatched, flew around her face.
She brushed it away with her handkerchief. She
looked at the sweet-brier roses,—those little rosy
cups all arranged so garland-like on the bending
boughs,—and_ said, “I wonder it was not a scor-
pion. Poor little roses! [ do not wish you to
wither; I want you to flourish, and breathe out
your sweet breath ;” and she bent her head over
hem, and while they breathed forth their sweet
breath, they looked so much like little infants, that
the tears came into Lizzy’s eyes, while she said,
“ May the Lord that made you, forgive me !”—
When she lifted up her head, she saw a& wasp fall
to the ground, and then a pretty bird came, and
picked it up and swallowed it. Lizzy then took
another ege from her pocket, placed it in her
bosom, and walked on, taking care to keep at a
safe distance from sweet-briers and brambles,

She had. not gone far when she saw a little
sparrow fly from a low shrub, making a sound as if
he had a nest there. When he had gone so far
away that she thought he would not see her, she

G
98 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

peeped in amongst the leaves, and there she espied,
the little home, with its three inmates; not three
little birds as yet—but, what she knew were quite



as dear to the parents,two speckled eggs. “ Ah!”
thought Lizzy, “how I should like to see if I
could not hatch a sparrow’s egg. I should be sure
that a wasp would not come out of a sparrow’s
egg.” And she put her hand very slily into the
nest, and stole away one of the sparrow’s speckled
treasures, and laid it in her bosom by the side of
the fairy egg. As she left the bush, she turned to
see if the sparrow went to look at it; and while
she stood watching him, she felt a strange nestling
and fumbling in her bosom, that she thought both
eggs must have hatched. Looking in, she saw a
small snake writhing about most energetically. “I
will put the sparrow’s egg back,” thought she, for
she was struck with horror.

Throwing the snake upon the ground, in an
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 99

agony of disgust, she felt for the sparrow’s egg ;
but, alas! the empty shell was alone there,—the
snake had sucked the egg. “How I wish I had
not stolen away the sparrow’s egg! The snake has
eaten what. would have been a pretty bird. [I
would give the sparrow one of my fairy eggs, if I
thought he would like it, but perhaps he would
not. Vile snake!” she cried, stepping back as she

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saw the snake writhing on the ground close by her
feet. Her words seemed to give him a death-
stroke; he lay still, as though lifeless; she touched
him with her foot, but he did not move. “There
was a little frog-pond near by, and to make sure
that he should not come to life again, Lizzy took
the snake on a stick, and threw it into the pond,
and then put another egg into her bosom. As she
stood by the pond, lashing the water with the stick,
she began to fear she was not quite so delightful a
100 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

child as she had imagined herself to be, and to
wonder what she should do to make the egg hatch
a pretty creature. “Let me think,” said she,
“ what have I to do before dinner? I have some
sewing to do, and two lessons to study. Now, if I
go directly home, and do these things well, instead
of staying here to play, perhaps I shall find, after
I have finished my tasks, some bright bird, or
shining insect, in my bosom. To be sure, that
ought not to be my only reason for doing well, and
it is not my only reason.” This was quite true ;
for Lizzy began to feel so penitent for the unplea-
sant things she had done, that she felt a desire to
make amends of some sort. “ I believe I will,”
said she, “go directly home, and see how much I
can do before dinner. Oh! see the tadpoles! how
they run and wag their tails, queer creatures ! but I
must not stay.” A frog then leaped into the
water, from amongst the grass at the other side of
the pond. “Ah! father long-legs! what a water-
nymph you are! I must just go round and see if
there are not some more frogs there; I do love so
to see them leap into the water with such a plash.”
And she walked round the water, frightening the
frogs from the grass ; and when they had all
leaped into the water, she thought she must sit
down quite still for a few moments, just to see if
one would not jump out again. She waited a few
moments,—and then a few more,—and then a few
more. “Qh, dear!” she cried, “I will wait till
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 101

one—just one—comes, if I wait till night, I am
determined.” But it seemed as if the frogs were
determined to be revenged upon Lizzy for fright-
ening them in, for not one lifted his head above
the water, for more than a quarter of an hour; and
Lizzy began to feel a little frightened, and to wish
she had made no promise. At length one,
more courageous or less obstinate than the rest,
leaped upon the bank. “Oh; and there is an-
other!” Now Lizzy must just go and drive them
in again, because it is still better to see them leap
in: for you then have the pleasure of seeing them
swim. As she stood watching them swim, she
thought the egg in her bosom felt cold; this
reminded her of her good resolution, and she
walked straight homewards.

It was dinner time when she reached home.—
Ah! where were the lessons and the sewing?
and why had not the egg hatched? It was a great
while since she put it into her bosom. She did
not believe it was going to hatch at all, for it still
felt cold, and she thought she would break the
shell, and see if there was anything in it. Yes,
there was something, and something very pretty,
too. A small, shining, green bee; but it was dead.
Oh! those amusing frogs!

“ Well, this one,” said Lizzy, as she put the last
egg into her bosom, “shall hatch a beautiful bee;
for, as soon as dinnet is over, I will sit down and
be as industrious as a bee on a summer’s morning.”
162 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

«“ Lizzy,” said her mother, while they were sitting
at table, “what was that you put into your bosom,
just now 2”

“What, mother? when?” asked Lizzy; for she
did not feel as if the story she had to tell about the
eggs would be one much to her credit, and she was
too proud to be willing to tell it.

« As you were sitting down, I observed you put
something into your bosom ; what was it 2?”

“Oh, I—just happened to put my hand into my
bosom.”

« Lizzy, you had something in your hand; I saw
it.”

«Why, mother, you are mistaken. j—I—”

“Tell me what it was, my child.” co

«“ Why, mother, it was only my—my thimble.”

As the falsehood came out of Lizzy’s mouth, a
black bat crept out of her bosom, and, spreading
out his filmy wings, fluttered about her head.—
Every one started up from the table; Lizzy
screamed, and tried to brush the impish-looking
creature away, but he persisted in fluttering around
her head. She ran from the room; but before she
could shut the door behind her, the bat was out
also, and sailed round and round her head. Her
mother followed her out, and tried to drive the bat
away, while she reproved Lizzy for putting such
ugly things in her bosom, and expressed very great
grief that her daughter should have told a false-
hood; and she told her that the falsehood would
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 103

haunt and trouble her mind till she confessed the
truth, and begged forgiveness, Just as the black bat
now troubled her by flying around her head.

“J will confess all,” said Lizzy ; and she burst
into tears, and throwing herself into her mother’s
arms, told her morning’s adventures, without Sparing
herself at all.

The bat dropped down dead upon the floor.

“Ah!” said Lizzy’s mother, « now, how good it
is to confess and beg forgiveness, and how pleasant
it is to forgive. See! he is dead, and I trust you
will never more put any such ‘thimbles’ into your
bosom.”

“Oh, mother,” said Lizzy, smiling, as she dried
her tears, “I have no doubt it was beginning to
be a pretty little bee when I put itin; but I will
be one myself now;” and she took her sewing
work, and sat down: and happening to look u
_ from her work to the spot where the bat had fallen,
she was delighted to see, instead of the bat, a bee
creeping along on the floor. Preséntly he flew up,
and crawled on her arm, while she worked.

“Well,” said Lizzy, the next morning, “TI really
did not know I was so bad a girl. Only think of
my causing the existence of such disagreeable
creatures, when I thought I should bring out such
delightful ones. But I will do better, certainly.—
I wish I had some more of these eggs.” And she
resolved to go again into the wood, and seek out
the fairy. She had been strolling about for some
104 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

time, looking for the tree on which she had seen
the woodpecker, when she saw, on the ground
before her, a brown beetle, or May-bug, lying upon
his back. She took him up, and turned him
over.

“That is a kind girl, Lizzy,” said a small
voice.

“Ah! the fairy!”

“ How are you, this morning? I have not seen
you since last evening, when 1 was bobbing about
in your room, striking my head against the ceiling,
and then falling bounce upon the floor. I was lying
here on my back, just to see if you would have the
kindness to pick me up. And now, tell me, what
was the fate of the eggs? Have you got some
pretty bird, bright butterflies, and shining beetles,
to show me 2?”

«Ah! I am ashamed of myself,” said Lizzy ;
“all your pretty eggs were wasted, but one.”

“ Not, wasted,” said the fairy ; “ you know your-
self better than you did yesterday—do you not ¢”

“Indeed, I do; and therefore I think I shall
succeed better to-day, if you will give me some
more eggs.”

“Oh, yes,” said the fairy; and taking the form
of a squirrel, she ran up the tree in which the eggs
were concealed, and which was not far distant, and
presently returned with five of them in her cheeks, |
which she gave to Lizzy, and then ran up the tree
again, and sat chattering on a high bough. As
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 105

Lizzy walked on her way homewards, she passed
by a low meadow, where she saw a little girl
gathering cowslips, or May-blobs, for greens. She
had a peck-basket beside her, and Lizzy asked her
if she meant to fill that great basket with greens,
The girl told her she should have to fill it twice,
and carry them into town to sell. A glad thought
leaped into Lizzy’s heart. “Imean to try and help
her to gather them,” said she to herself. When
she offered to do it, the little girl seemed quite
pleased, and so Lizzy went to work very indus-
triously, and broke off the leaves and buds of the
May-blobs, and the little girl’s basket began to fill
very fast; and they talked together while they
picked, and the little girls soon became very well
acquainted with each other. The little girl told
Lizzy how many brothers and sisters she had, and
how many hens and chickens, and what all their
names were; and Lizzy told the little girl how
many brothers and sisters she had, and how many
rabbits and Canary birds, and what al] their names
were; and the little girl told Lizzy how many
funny things her hens and chickens did; and Lizzy
told the little girl many knowing things that her
canaries did; and Lizzy felt as happy while she
picked the May-blobs, as the bright yellow blos-
soms themselves looked. And now the basket is
full, and the little girl is glad her morning’s task is
done, before the sun is up so high as to be too
warm ; she is'not going to pick another basket till
106 LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.

towards night ;—and now Lizzy feels the egg-shell
crack in her bosom, and she and the little girl
laugh to see a full-grown yellow-bird fly out, and,
alighting upon Lizzy’s shoulder, pour out his plea-
sant song.

« How he sings !” said the little girl.

“He is thanking me for his existence,” said
Lizzy; for she had told the little girl all about the
fairy eggs. ‘“ Come now, let me take your basket,
if you.are going the same way that I am; for I
know you are tired, and I am not.”

“That is where I live,” said the little girl, point-
ing to a house about an eighth of a mile distant.

“ Ah!” said Lizzy, “that is not much out of my
way; I think I shall be home in good time.” And
she put another egg into her bosom, and taking the
basket, accompanied the little girl home, telling
her she would perhaps come and help her again at
night ; and just as the children were saying good-
bye, a hen yellow-bird flew out of Lizzy’s bosom,
and the other one which had followed on, went
gladly to meet her. “ Ah! there is a little yellow
mate for him,” cried Lizzy; and she held out her
arm, and the hen yellow-bird alighted upon it, and
sat there while her mate stood by her side and gave
her his prettiest song. The little girl went into
the house, and Lizzy, first putting another egg into
her bosom, walked on, the two birds flying
around heras she went, and the male now and
then stopping to trill his notes upon a shrub or
LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE. 107

tree. When Lizzy reached home, she was met by
Hero, her brother’s dog, and not in the most plea-
sant manner imaginable. He had just come out
of a muddy ditch, and with his wet, black paws, up
he leaped upon her nice, clean apron. “Be still,
Hero; down, down, sir,” said Lizzy; but Hero’s
expressions of joy were not so easily quieted. Lizzy
took up a stick and was going to beat him, for she
felt very angry; but she controlled herself, and
throwing down the stick, took hold of Hero’s col-
lar and held him down till he became more quiet.
When she went into the house the two yellow-
birds flew up and alighted upon a cherry tree,
which was close by her chamber window, and when
she went into her chamber, how pleasant was the
song that met her ear! But why did not the other
egg hatch! Lizzy waited and waited, and towards
night her patience became exhausted, and she broke
the shell. Oh, how glad she was it did not hatch!
how -glad she was that she did not beat poor
Hero, because he welcomed her rather too rudely.
A dead hornet was in the egg shell. |

Lizzy’s heart was full of gratitude and love when
she laid herself down to rest at night. She loved
the little girl she had helped, and she felt penitent
and humble when she thought how angry she had
been with Hero, and grateful when she thought
of the escape she had made; and she felt very
grateful and happy when she thought of the two
yellow-birds she should have to sing at her window.
108 LIZZY ; A FAIRY TALE.

She took the two remaining eggs in her hands and
held them up against her bosom, and while she was
going to sleep, sweet thoughts of love and beauty
floated about in her mind; and when the song of
her yellow-birds awoke her in the morning—Oh,
what was she pressing to her bosom? A pair of
white doves! and they nestled and cooed in her
bosom, and when she arose she let them play around
the chamber. Unlike the dark, filmy wings of the
bat, their white pinions whistled as they fiew, and
Lizzy thought, “ Oh, how sweet it will be to have
these to nestle in my bosom every night, and the
yellow-birds to awaken me in the morning !”


109



ELLEN.

A TRUE STORY.

SHE looked into my eyes,

Her own were filled with tears i—
A loving and a thoughtful child,

Disturbed by dreamy fears.

She said—“ Oh! mother dear!
I dread that I shall die

Too soon, and go to heaven alone,
And leave you here to ery !”
110

ELLEN ; A TRUE STORY.

“ My darling! if you do,
You will be always blest ;

The angels there will play with you,
And lull you, love, to rest !”

“Oh, no! it may be bright,
A pleasant place and fair ;
But how can I be glad, and play ?
I'll have no mother there !”

“¢ My Ellen! if you stay
In this sad world of ours,

You'll often weep woe's bitter tears
Above its fairest flowers !”

“Dear mother! yet I'd stay ;
For oh! so much I love you,

I’d rather grieve with you, on earth,
Than joy, in heaven, above you Ee


111

PHILOSOPHY IN COMMON THINGS.

CORKING THE KETTLE SPOUT UP.

Mr. W. Tom, have you brought the small cork I

told you to bring ?

Tom. Yes, father ; here it is.

Mr. W. Put it in the kettle spout.

Tom. Why, it blows it out again, as soon as it is
in.
Mr. W. You did not half press it in. Hold it
fast—press with all your strength.

Tom. See there—the lid is blown off!

Mr. W. Blown off! How is this ¢— nobody
has put gunpowder into the kettle |!

Etta. I am sure there is nothing but clean
water; I saw it put in.

Mr. W. But, is it not very extraordinary that
simple, clean water, should blow the kettle lid off 2

Tom. Not at all, father. When you told us:
about the expansion of cold water below forty de-
grees, we wondered, because we could not think ice
was more bulky than water; but there seems no
112 PHILOSOPHY IN COMMON THINGS.

reason to doubt, that the hotter water becomes,
the more room it takes up.

Mr. W. How does the heat of the fire do this ?

Tom. By expanding it.

Mr. W. We know that; but how ?

Tom. By driving the particles of steam farther
and farther asunder.

Mr. W. Precisely. The moment the particles
of a drop of water become steam, they occupy
eighteen hundred times as much room as they did
before.

Tom. And press the lid eighteen hundred times
more forcibly than water ?

Mr. W. Its force is altogether irresistible. If
this kettle were composed of iron, an inch thick
or more, if steam could not escape, it would burst
it with ease.

Tom. Is that the reason why steam boilers
burst @

Mr. W. It is one reason, but not the prineipal
one. ‘If the water in the kettle were all boiled
out, and it was full of steam, and we corked it
tightly up, and soldered the lid down, and still
kept the fire blazing fiercely about it, it would
burst at the weakest part: perhaps the lid would
fly off, or the side burst: the steam would rush
out, and, if we were near, we might be scalded.

Tom. Then, when a boiler grows old and thin,

if the pressure is very great, it bursts in the
- weakest part ?
PHILOSOPHY IN COMMON THINGS. 1138

Mr. W. Just so; and ingenious men have made
some portion of the boiler of a weaker metal—
o that, if it burst from the pressure of the steam, it
should hurt no one.

AMELIA. I cannot understand what you mean.

Mr. W. You see this kettle on the fire :— if we
cork up the spout, and fasten the lid down, and
let it boil, it will, probably, blow the cork out, and
hit some of you; but if, at the baek part of the
kettle that touches the chimney, we have a part
of it made of lead, or tin, it will explode there.

AmMEtIA. Oh! I see now. |

Tom. But, father, this cannot account for the tre-
mendous explosions, by which the boiler itself is
thrown a great distance, and even factories are
blown, down.

Mr. W. T think not. I will try to make you
understand this, to-morrow.


114

THE LOST CHILDREN.

A TRUE STORY.

Purr and Jessie went to school every day through
a pretty lane that led toa small school-house in
the country. It was not far from their mother’s
house, and it did not take them many minutes to
get there, when they did not stop to play by the
way. There were a great many flowers growing in
the field, on each side of the path, and they often
started a little earlier in the morning, to gather
some of the freshest to carry to their kind teacher.

Philip was only eight years old, but he felt like
a man, when he thought he was two whole
years older than Jessie; and they had a little
brother, Willy, who was just three. Jessie was
very fond of taking care of “ the baby” as Willy
was still called. How fast the little fellow used to
run when he saw Philip and Jessie coming up the
hill from school; and Philo, Philip’s dog, would
bark, and run quite out of sight in a minute, and
then back again, and Jessie would put her basket
THE LOST CHILDREN. 115

in his mouth, and he would walk along by her side,
while she led Willy to the house.

Willy often asked to go to school with his bro-
ther and sister; but Mrs. Morton, their mother,
was not willing to let him go in, though his nurse
often tool him to the door, and then brought him
back, for fear he should make a noise and disturb,
the children at their lessons.

One fine afternoon, it was Philip’s birth-day, his
mother said they might take Willy with them to
see “ Aunt Ellen,” as they used to call their
teacher. He promised to sit still by Jessie, and not
speak one loud word; and he kept his promise, too,
though he whispered and laughed so much, and
looked so pretty, that the little girls did not do
much work that afternoon. However, Aunt Ellen
dismissed the school half an hour earlier than usual ;
and as they ran out, shouting and jumping, she
stooped and kissed Willy, and told Jessie to say,
to his mother, that he had been a very good boy in
school, and that she hoped soon to have him for a
scholar.

Mrs. Morton had charged Philip to come straight
from school, and not stop by the way for anything,
and he had promised her to do so;—but the sun
was so high, and shone so pleasantly, that they
did not walk very fast at first, for Willy would
stop to pluck every flower he saw, to carry home,
he said, to mamma.

So they went along, and did not attend to the
116 THE LOST CHILDREN.

time, but began to gather blackberries, and were
delighted to see Willy eat them, and put them into
their basket. They were all so busily engaged,
that they entirely forgot what their mother had
told them when they left home, and had wandered
a good way from the path, when Philip looked up,
for it was becoming quite dark. The sun had gone
under a cloud, and it began to rain; so Philip tied
on Jessie’s hat, and they both took Willy by the
hand, and ran, as they thought, towards home, but
it was quite another way. The rain came down,
now, very fast, and it thundered at a distance,
which frightened them a little. Poor Jessie pulled
Willy along, who began to cry, for his shoe was
coming off. She could not stop to tie it on; and
then they both fell over the stump of a tree, and
Jessie spilt all her blackberries over her dress and
Willy’s apron, which were already wet with the rain.
Then Jessie could not help crying too; but Philip
helped him up, and told him they would soon get
home now.

As they were near the woods, that were very
thick, Philip said they had better stop a little while
till the rain ceased, and then go on; but it grew so
dark, and kept on raining so fast, they could not
see which way to go. They sat down on a great
stone-under a thick grape-vine that keept off the
wet, and Jessie took “the baby” in her arms, and
tied her handkerchief around his neck.
THE LOST CHILDREN. 117

“I want to go to mamma,” he cried. “Take
me home,—I want to go to mamma!”

So did Jessie too, but she tried hard not to ery
to keep Willy still.

“ Do you think we are lost, Philip ?” she said.

“JT am afraid so,” replied Philip. “ But, Jessie,
I have often read about lost children, and that
some good person came to take care of them.”

“But if Willy should die like one of those
babes in the wood, that nurse Annie sings about,
all stained with blackberries—Oh, Philip! we were
so naughty to pick blackberries!” and the tears
came so fast she could not speak.

The rain was now over, and the stars shone
brightly, and Philip thought perhaps they could
hear him at home if he called; so he went out of
the wood a little way, and called out as loud as he
could, “ Father! Mother! we are here!” He re-
peated it till he was quite hoarse, but he could not
make:them hear. He saw an old shed not far off,
and he told Jessie that he thought they had better
go there, and stay still some one found them.

They took their brother in their arms between
them, and reached the shed, where they found
some hay, and Philip made a bed for Jessie and
Willy as well as he could, and put his coat over it.
Jessie took off Willy's apron and hung it up ‘inside
the shed to dry, and took off his wet stockings and
one shoe, for he had lost the other, and held his .
feet in her lap, to keep them warm. As she sat
118 THE LOST CHILDREN.

down beside him on the ground, she began singing
him to sleep—

‘“‘ Hush my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed,
Heavenly blessings without number

Gently fall upon thy head !”"

She could not sing any more, for she thought of
her mother, who sung this hymn to them every
night, and of the quiet little room where she slept
with Willy so warm and comfortable, and father
and mother and Philip near; and now they were
all in the dark, and lost in the wood!

Philip was as sad as Jessie, but he did not cry,
and he said,—

« Jessie, may be, if we pray to God, he will send
some one to find us, and take us home. Don’t
you remember how often aunt Ellen has told us
that God sees little children, and everybody, in
the night as well as in the day, and that good
angels are around us, though we cannot see: them?
I was a very naughty boy to stop when mother
told me to bring Willy straight home from
school, and T will pray to God to forgive me, and
find you and me and the baby !”

So they both kneeled down, and took hold of each
other's hands, and said their prayers.

Willy was fast asleep now, and Jessie laid down
beside him, and put her arm around his neck—but
she could not sleep, and hearing a noise close by,
THE LOST CHILDREN. 119

she got up and went to Philip, and asked him what
he thought it could be.

“JT will go and see,’ said Philip. |

He went out, and soon coming back, told her it
was only a horse quietly feeding on the short grass
that grew in the wood, and that he was tied to the
shed by a long rope, to keep him from running
away.

“ Philip,” said Jessie, “don’t you think some one
may come in the morning to get the horse, and
find ws ?”

“Yes! to be sure they will,” said Philip; “and
I will tell them my name is Philip Morton, and
may be they may know my father, and then they
can show us the way home.”

And so these little children found comfort in
thinking they would not be deserted, even though
away from their parents, and lost in the thick wood ;
for their Father in heaven was watching over them,
and allowing the good angels to put this thought
into their head, to cheer them, so that they were
not afraid.

All this while their parents and friends were
out looking for them everywhere; for Mrs. Mor-
ton, seeing the dark cloud arise, and finding that
the children did not come home, was very uneasy.
At first, she was sure that they would be in directly,
as Philip had always been so obedient to her, and
so careful of his brother and sister. But night
coming on, and seeing nothing of them, she became
120 THE LOST CHILDREN.

greatly alarmed. She went out herself with nurse
Annie, and I§oked and called in vain. When Mr.
Morton came home, he found her in the deepest
distress, for all her children were gone, she knew
not whither, and it was dark and raining, and there
was a mill-race and pond not far off, ‘where the
children had often walked with her and their fa-
ther,—and oh! if they had lost their way and
fallen in there! Mr. Morton, and some gentlemen
in the neighbourhood, who kindly lent their as-
sistance, took lanterns, and all went out, some on
foot and some on horseback, to search far and near
for them.

It was about two o’clock in the morning when
the children thought they heard some one calling
them. They listened—no! they could not mistake.
their father’s voice calling, “ Philip ! Philip ! Jessie *”

Oh! how their hearts beat! Philip ran farther
into the wood and called again, “ Father! Father!
here we are !”

But no answer was returned. Just then they
saw a light through the trees, at a distance, and
Philip, running in the direction, saw his father,
and their old man Tom, and Philo. Presently
Philo barked, and Philip knew, by the sound, that
they were all coming towards them.

“ Don’t leave me, Philip !” cried out little Jessie.
«JT will take the baby up, if you will help me.”

So Philip ran back to the shed, and called again.
His father heard him now, and came directly up to
THE LOST CHILDREN. 121

where they were. There he found Willy fast
asleep, and Jessy trying to put on his apron and
shoe.

Old Tommy had a bundle of shawls, and some
cakes for them, that their mother had put up.—
They were so glad to see their father, and to know
that they were found, that they did not care for the
cakes ; but Jessie took a shawl for herself, and her
father wrapped one around Willy, who opened his
eyes, and seeing his father had him, fell asleep
again.

They were soon on their way home,—Philo run-
ning on before them, as if to be the first to
announce their coming; and Tommy, with Philip
on one side,—and Jessy, holding her little school-
basket in her hand, on the other; and Mr, Morton
with the baby.

Mrs. Morton ran to meet them, and I cannot
say who were the happier,—the children, to be
once more safe at home, or the mother to hold
again her darlings in her arms! .

“ Mother, I am afraid you will never trust Willy
with me again,” was the first thing Philip said.—
“ But, indeed, I will never disobey you again. I
did not know what a terrible thing it is to be
naughty !”

His mother could not speak—she wept; but
it was with joy and gratitude to God for restoring
to her her children.

“Don’t cry so; indeed I think God will make
122 THE LOST CHILDREN.

me a good boy, after this, always,” said Philip,
looking up earnestly in his mother’s face.

“ May He indeed do so, my dear boy, and ever
bless, and strengthen you !” said his mother. “ May
you never forget to obey your father and mother,
now you are young, and I am sure you will be a
good man.”

Philip never forgot the night in the woods. He
is now grown up, and what his mother said was
true. He is a good man, because he learned to be
a good boy.



Ser (j
eee —
123

FORGIVENESS.

A very little child, one day,
Too young to know the harm it did,
Trampled, with his small naked foot,
The place in which a violet hid.

The violet sighed its life away,
Embalming, with its last faint breath,
The little foot, that thus, in play,
Had put its soft, blue flower to death.

Ah, was it not a tender flower,
To lavish all the wealth it had,
Its fragrance, in its dying hour,
Mild, meek, forgiving, mute, though sad.

My little girl, the lesson learn ;
Be thou the violet—love thou so;
Retort no wrong; but nobly turn,
And with thy heart’s wealth bless thy foe.

Snow Drop.
124

THE TWO NOSEGAYS.

Onz fine summer evening, as the mother of Vir-
ginia and Maria was walking with them in the
garden, she observed that, from time to time, they
went away by themselves, and whispered myste-
riously together ; and whenever she went towards
them, to inquire into the subject of their conversa-
tion, they stopped, and began to play about.

This conduct disturbed her very much; for she
knew that when girls have anything which they
wish to conceal from their mothers, there must be
something wrong about it.

This case, however, was an exception to the
general rule, Virginia and Maria had nothing
improper in their minds; but the next day was
their mother’s birth-day, and they wished to think
of something which would be a suitable present for
them to make her.

Virginia was two years older than Maria, and
the two sisters were very different. Virginia was
lively, quick, and graceful; Maria was quiet, modest,
and loving. .
THE TWO NOSEGAYS. 125

“ Let us make mamma some present which will
prove which of us possesses the finest taste,” said
Virginia. “In our garden and the meadow the
flowers are all striving to see which will excel in
beauty.. Let us choose, from among them, the
flowers we like best, and make a nosegay, each by
ourselves; and then see which our mother will
prefer.

Maria agreed to her sister’s proposal, and, early
on the next morning, they went, by different paths,
through the meadow and garden, to make their
choice. All the flowers smiled upon them, and
seemed to invite attention: but they flew, like
butterflies, from one to the other, uncertain where
to choose. At length the early morning was gone,
and it was time for them to return to breakfast.—
They both knew that a want of punctuality would
displease their mother, more than any nosegays
could give her pleasure. So they broke off their
flowers hastily, and carried them to the house,
without even suffering each other to see what they
had.

Soon after breakfast, Virginia approached her
mother with a smile of satisfaction, and very grace-
fully presented her a bunch of fresh moss-roses, in
a little basket curiously woven of the green leaves
of the bush.

“Dear mother !” said she, “see how, from this
little basket of leaves, this full-blown moss-rese
lifts up its head in the centre, with a colour so
126 THE TWO NOSEGAYS.

lively and so soft. This beautiful rose is you,
mother, and this little bud beneath its shadow is
your Virginia.”

Maria approached with a timid step, and spoke
in a low, hesitating voice:

“Mother, here is my nosegay. It is not so
beautiful nor ingenious as Virginia’s rose-basket.—
It is only a bunch of honeysuckle blossoms, from
the vine which twined around the nut-tree, as I
would rest on you.”

When Maria said this, she threw her arms around
her mother’s neck, and wet her cheeks with tears
of quiet love.

The beauty and ingenuity of the rose-basket
had delighted the eye of the happy mother, but
Maria’s present touched her heart; and tears filled
her eyes, as she returned the embrace of her affec-
tionate child.

“My dear children,” said she, “your gifts are
like yourselves, and you shall both be precious to
me.”

As she said this, she took the rose-bud from the
basket, and twining it with the honeysuckles,
put them both into her bosom.”

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127



CAN ROE.
AND . o tell you of
the life and . e-deer. It is
quite a true story, a> 4 . , good reason to
know.

When Fanny Grey was about’ seven years old,
one day her father opened the door of the room
where she sat, and said, “Come here, Fanny, and
look at the beautiful present I have brought you.”

So she got up in great haste, and followed her
papa to the lawn, and there, in a nice square box,
was a young roe.

“Jt is for you, my child, as a reward for your
attention to your studies.”

J wish you could have seen Fanny’s joy. She
128 THE TAME ROE.

danced about, and clapped her hands, and ran to
the dairy to get some milk for the little stranger.
When she had taken it out of the box, she could
see it much better: she could see the white spots
that make the coat of roe-deer, when they are very
young. She could see its pretty little graceful feet,
and its soft, black eyes ; and Fanny was so happy,
that she said she should like it better than any of
her pets. She had birds, and dogs, and a beautiful

ee

= Ae

rey horse, but this dear little roe was better than
all. She gave it the name of Camgno; end by
this name it would come whenever she célled.—
She made a velvet cushion for it to sleep upon, and
every day she thought it grew more pretty. After
some time Camgno became quite strong, and Fanny
had a silver collar made for it; and the game-
keeper made a “ nice little house” for her favourite,
where it could sleep every night. Camgno would
always come when Fanny called, and they loved
each other very much. But Camgno was taken
THE TAME ROE. 129

sick, and it was necessary to carry him to the
pheasant-house, where the gamekeeper could take
care of him; for Fanny was not old enough to
take all the care of her little pet, when he was so
sick, and so she consented to its being removed.

One day her father came home and told her a sad
tale, that Camgno could not live. Oh! how sorry
she was !—the tears came into her eyes, and she
ran away, as fast as she could, to see her poor roe.
When she came to the pheasant-house, Camgno
was lying on the ground, and looked quite dead.

“Oh, my poor Camgno!” she cried.

Camgno opened its black eyes at the sound of
her voice; and Fanny sat down by the roe, and
raised its little head, and laid it upon her knee.—
She staid a long time beside her dear little pet, till
her father said he was afraid she would catch cold,
and she must now go home.

The next morning she got up very early, and
went to the gamekeeper; but just before she
reached the house, she met James, who said, “It is
of no use; Camgno is dead; but if I live till
another spring, I will get you another roe.”

“Thank you James,” said Fanny; “ but I shall
never want another roe; it might die too; and it
makes me very sorry: but I will thank you to dig
a grave for my pet, and help me to bury it.”

So Fanny covered the grave with flowers, and
resolved that she would try and not love anything

I
1380 THE TAME ROE.

so much again that could be taken away from her;
but she was always kind to all animals, and every
living thing,—and, after this, she was led to think
of and love such things as could not be taken
away from her: and that made her truly happy.


131

THE SECRET.

“Come, Fanny, said George Lewis, “ put on
your hat, and go out with me among the trees and
bushes. It is a bright, glorious morning, and I
have a secret to reveal to you, sister, when we get
where nobody will overhear us.”

“ Oh, that’s grand,” cried Fanny, with her face
kindling up with joy, and her curiosity, like herself,
all on tiptoe. “TI love to find out secrets.”

She took her brother’s hand. and away they hied,
running and leaping, over the field, past the new
hayricks, across the rivulet, and into the flowery
border of a thicket. Here was a little silvery
fountain, gushing from a mossy rock, and flashing
to the light over its pebbly basin; and there a
green, arching bough, hung with clusters of wild
berries, and trembling from the weight and motion
of their light-winged gatherer; while the air was
filled with sweet perfume, and the songs of the
feathered warblers sounded from shrub and tree on
every side. , |

“ But what és it—what can it be that you have to
1382 THE SECRET.

tell me, George ?” said Fanny; “I’m out of breath
to know the secret.” |

« Be patient, and you shall know it in the right
time,” replied her brother.

«Oh! how can you be so cruel as not to tell me
now ?” said Fanny. “ How long have you known
the secret without letting me know it, too? I
shan’t be able to go much farther, if you keep it
from me. My heart is all in a flutter.”

«T don’t want to tell you, with your heart allin a
flutter. You should be calm, so as to hear what I
say, and to enjoy the sight I have to show you, ©
said the young philosopher.

“JT am calm, now, and I have been patient,” said
Fanny. “Come, dear Georgie, do tell me.”

Georgie kept silence, and proceeded a few paces,
when he paused; and lifting a long, leafy branch,

disclosed to the eye of the delighted girl a beau-
- tiful nest, full of young birds, so closely snuggled
in their little round cell, that they looked as if,
from below the neck, they grew together.

In momentary surprise at the sudden flood of
light that poured upon them, the nestlings put up
their heads, as if to ask what was meant by it, and
who it was that had unroofed them. They had
never received anything but what came from care
and kindness; they were innocent, and therefore
they knew no fear. Putting forth their open
beaks at the strange visitants, they cried, “ Pe-
tweet-tweet, petweet-tweet, as if their mother
THE SECRET. ~ 383

had hung over them with their morning gift of
food.

Fanny was for a moment as much surprised as
they. Then, in an ecstacy of delight, she sprang
forward, and would have dislodged the nest from
its place, to take the birds, and examine them with
her fingers, as well as her scrutinizing eye, had not
her brother checked her motion, and stood between
her and his casket of living jewels.

“Qh! I want to touch them!” said she. “ But
how long have you known of this nest ?”

“Ever since it was begun to be built,” said
George.

“ And didn’t tell m-e!” said Fanny, in a whim-
pering tone.

“ No,” replied George, “but I will tell you the
reason why I did not. Had I told you then, Fanny,
we should never have seen these little birds here.
You havn’t the art of keeping a secret belonging
to your own concerns or another’s, long enough for
anything depending on its being kept to come to
pass. You will surely, in some way, let it slip too
soon. You would not tell it if you promised not
to do so; but by some air or act, or mysterious
manner, you would show them that you knew some-
thing that was unknown to others, and set them
to watching and studying for it. If I had told you
of the nest, you would have wanted to be running
out every little while to see how it went on, till the
bird would have found herself watched, and for-
134 THE SECRET.

saken it, to build somewhere else. Or you would
have wanted to break the blue shells, to see if the
insides of the eggs were growing into birds; just
as you dug up your flower-seeds, to know if they
were sprouted ; and broke open the green rose-
buds, to find out if the under leaves were turning
red. So your seeds never came up, and your roses
didn’t bloom; all for your impatience and curiosity.
If you had not done this, your continual coming
would have drawn the attention of some of the
boys or girls, to learn what was here, till they
would have found the nest, and robbed it. You
have too much curiosity, Fanny. If you choose,
tell your own secrets, and take the consequences.
But they who cannot keep their own, are not very
likely to be trusted with those of others. And as
to coming at them by prying, I should feel as if I
was ‘ tiefing,’ as the Frenchman told his little boy
he had been doing, when he cut the shoot from
grandpapa’s English walnut-tree, to make him a
rattan. If I discovered, by accident, what con-
cerned another, and was not designed for my know-
ledge, I should feel sorry, and that I had no more
right to tell or expose it, than I should have to
spend a piece of money that I saw another drop.

This secret was the bird’s—and I should have
_ caused her great distress by telling it. It is the
kind of curiosity which makes you want to know
what others are about, what they have, and so on,
that gets you into your worst troubles, sister. You
THE SECRET. 135

saw John bring in a covered basket, and put it on a
shelf in the cellar closet. The next that was heard
was the basket, eggs and all, smash upon the brick
floor; and sister Fanny shouting lamentably and
crying, ‘Oh, dear, dear, they are all over my feet!’
So none of us had pudding that day. Then, when
you saw your mother wet her eyes with clear water
from a phial, and thought you'd try it too, you
found the sal volatile not quite so cooling to yours,
as the rose-water to hers. No wonder that they
wept !

“ Now, Fanny, since I’ve played minister, and
preached you such a sermon on curiosity over this
nest, 1 know you'll prove so good a hearer as not to
show that you know anything about the secret, till
the birds are a few days older, and can fly away.—
Then they'll come and do the singing part of the
service, from the trees around our house.”

Fanny looked thoughtful and solemn, and only
replied, “ I’m glad I didn’t break the bird’s eggs.
There never would have been any music nor pretty
birds come from these if I did break them. They
would have been made into a pudding; the pud-
ding would have made me heavy and sleepy, so
that I should not have got my lesson so well, and
I should have been mortified at school.”
136

SCIENCE OF THE HUMAN FRAME.

THE SKIN.

Faruer. It is pleasant and profitable, my chil-
dren, to learn the uses of various parts of the
human body; for when we understand the uses of
any member of the body, and the manner in which
it is composed, we shall be better able to avoid all
things which would interfere with those uses. It
seems to me that it would be useful for you to
give your attention to these subjects, and I will
give you all the assistance that 1 am able.

AuBert. I wish to learn the use of a great many
parts of my body that I do not now fully under-
stand; for I have been told that the human form
is the most perfect of all material things; and it
seems to me that we ought to give much more
attention to it than we have yet given.

Cuar_es. It seems to me that it would be a
good plan, if you are willing, father, to spend a
part of each evening in teaching us these things.
Albert and I can ask some questions, and you can
THE SKIN, 137

answer them, and give us any other information
that you think may be useful to us.

Fatuer. I think that thisis a good plan; and as
we are now together, we will begin this evening.
We will begin with the siin,—for though the skin
covers the whole body, and is so exposed to view,
there are many things concerning it with which you
are not familiar—The skin is that thin covering
which is spread over the whole surface of the body.
It serves to bind together and to protect from
injury the more delicate parts which are beneath
it. Come, Albert, tell me some of the things
which you have observed respecting the skin.

ALBERT. The skin differs in its appearance in
different animals, and in different parts of the body.
With young people and females it is soft, smooth,
and delicate; it is firmer and more resisting in
middle age, and with males; it appears loose and
wrinkled in old age, and after some diseases ; it is
puckered or disposed in folds in places where it
would otherwise interfere with the proper move-
ments of the limbs, as over the finger-joints, and in
the palm of the hand.

FarHer. Very well, my son. Should you sup-
pose, Charles, that the skin is one sheet, or that it
is composed of layers ?

Cuartes. I have observed that a very thin coat
of the skin has sometimes risen in blisters, from
being rubbed when I have been working, or from
a burn, or slight scald; and sometimes I have
138 SCIENCE OF THE HUMAN FRAME.

peeled it off, as I can the outside bark of a birch
tree; and from these things I suppose the skin is
composed of thin layers.

Farner. It is so. The skin is composed of three
membranes, or layers. The outside layer is called
the “cuticle,” or “scarf-skin.” There are some
other names for the three layers of the skin besides
those that I shall use; but if you remember those
which I give, it will be sufficient until you are old
enough to understand more fully the good books
which have been written concerning the different
parts of the body. The cuticle has no blood-vessels.
It is very thin. There is still some doubt whether
the scarf-skin has any nerves or not. Perhaps it
has nerves which are so unsusceptible to external
impressions, that we do not notice their effects.

Apert. If there were nerves in the scarf-skin
as sensitive as those in some parts of the body, we
should be in constant pain; we could not take a
single step without extreme pain; for the scarf-
skin is, I suppose, a protection to the parts which
are tender; and unless its nerves were blunt, it
would not answer this purpose. I never thought of
this before; but this, as well as the structure of
every part of the body, shows us the kindness and
wisdom of our Creator.

Cartes. And if there were blood-vessels in the
searf-skin, we should continually be ‘in danger of
being covered with blood, since a slight blow is
sufficient to break this skin. I have also observed,
THE SKIN. 139

father, that those parts of the body which are the
most exposed to pressure and friction, such as the
palms of the hands and soles ef the feet, are pro-
vided with a scarf-skin much thicker than that on
other parts of the body.

FatHerR. Yes, my son. The differenee in the
thickness of the cuticle in different parts of the
body is apparent even at birth. But the farmer
and blacksmith, who are constantly engaged in
manual labour, need a thicker scarf-skin to protect
their hands, than would be convenient for a student
or a merchant; and it has, for this reason, been
so provided, that the scarf-skin increases in
thickness when it is much used, and decreases
when it is but little needed.

Cuar.es. If we have got through with talking
about the scarf-skin, I should like to ask about the
next layer, for you told us there are three coats.

FaTHER. Yes, there are three coats. Imme-
diately beneath the scarf-skin, is what is called the
mucous coat. The mucous coat is chiefly remark-
able as the seat of the colouring matter of the
skin.

ALBERT. Then I should think that persons of
dark complexion must have much thicker mucous
coats than those of light complexion.

Fatner. They have. It can scarcely be seen
with those who are of a very light complexion, but
in the negro it is thick. If the mucous coat were
the same in all persons, all would be of one colour.
140 SCIENCE OF THE HUMAN FRAME.

The mucous coat is very bright in those fishes
and other animals whose skins have beautiful,
variegated colours, and is the cause of their brilliant
appearance. The mucous coat, like the cuticle,
is destitute of blood-vessels, and of very active
nerves.

Apert. Asit is not yet late, let us talk about
the third layer, and then we shall have some idea
of the composition of the skin. ,

Farner. The third, or inmost layer, called the
true skin, is much thicker than either of the other
layers of the skin. The true skin seems to be a
complete network of extremely small blood-vessels
and nerves.

CuHarR.eEs. I can see that this is so; for I cannot
prick entirely through the skin, even with the
point of the finest needle, without giving some
pain, and drawing some blood; and I suppose that
the pain is caused by piercing a nerve, and the
bleeding by opening a blood-vessel.

Fatuer. You are right, my son. There are so
many nerves in the true skin, that in amputating a
limb, the principal pain is always in the skin.

ALBERT. I suppose we should not be able to dis-
tinguish different things by the touch, unless the
true skin were furnished with nerves.

Fatuer. One of the great uses of the skin is
to remove from the body the impure matter which
is constantly collecting. You both have, when
warm, perceived drops of sweat, or perspiration, on
THE SKIN. 141

your faces and other parts of your bodies. Much
impure matter is removed in that way, which, if
not removed, would be very injurious to the health.

Caries. It seems to me that but very little
impure matter can be conveyed away in the per-
spiration which falls from us.

FatHer. Even when we cannot perceive the
perspiration, there is what is called insensible per-
spiration, by which, in a state of health, about
twenty ounces of waste matter are daily removed.
When a person takes a sudden cold, this _perspira-
tion is checked, and the waste matter accumulates,
and causes sickness. Perspiration takes place with
much more regularity when the body is kept
perfectly clean, than when it is allowed to remain
dirty ; and from this we can see how necessary it is
to bathe the body thoroughly and frequently, and
also that we ought to avoid exposing ourselves to
take cold.

AxBerT. I thank you, father, for explaining
these things, and will try to remember them.

Cuartes. And so do I: and I hope that another
evening we shall learn much more.


142

VOICES FROM NATURE.

CHILD.

“« River, river, stay and tell me,
Whither going with such speed ?”

RIVER.

“« No, I cannot stop, for onward
I must go, the sea to feed.

I am one of many others,—

To the same great deep we go,
Pouring into it for ever,

Yet it doth not overflow.”

CHILD.

“Tittle brook, stay still a moment,
Dancing neath the summer sun,
With such sweet and pleasant music,
Tell me, whither do you run ?”

BROOKE.

‘J am hastening to the river,
And I cannot longer stay,

I am one of many others,
Who must feed it day by day.”
nt

VOICES FROM NATURE. 148

CHILD.

“* Little rill, which down the mountain,
Like a silver thread dost flow,

Tell me now before you leave me,

Why youare in haste to go ?”

RILL.

‘* Downward, downward, little maiden,
Isa voice that bids me speed,

Where a little brook is waiting,

Which my limpid drops must feed.

I am one of many others,

And when Spring’s first hours awake,
Into life and motion springing,

To the plains our course we take.”

CHILD.

“¢ Rain-drops, which so fast are falling,
Patter, patter, on the ground,

Much I love to stand and watch you,
Much I love your merry sound ;

But I pray you stop and tell me,

On what mission you are bound 2?”

RAIN,

** Humble as our mission seemeth,
Maiden, to your thoughtful eye,

Yet for good, by God’s appointment,
Drop by drop, I fall from high ;

And, without me, mightiest rivers
Soon would leave their channels dry.”
144

VOICE FROM NATURE.

Musing, then, the little maiden,
Inward for a moral turned,

Where, to light the spirit temple,
Truth upon her altar burned.

“¢ Rain,” she said, “ from heaven descending,
Feeds the little fountain rill :

Onward, onward, all are hastening,
Never for a moment still.

Rill, and brook, and mighty river,
All to the deep ocean go ;

All the thirsty river swallows,—

Yet it doth not overflow.”

Child, thou seekest from this a moral,
Ask of Truth, and thou shalt know.


145

KING ALFRED.

ALFRED was one of the early kings of England,
distinguished for his wisdom and virtue. In
his childhood he was very much indulged by his
parents, and his education was neglected, but he
engaged in study of his own accord, and became
an eminent scholar in his youth ;-although in those
days there were no printed books, and few means
of instruction of any kind.

When he became king, after the death of his
father, his country was suffering from the invasion
of the Danes; and Alfred ‘spent a considerable
part of his life in wars with them. These Danes
came Over in swarms from the continent of Europe,
under different leaders; and they succeeded in
defeating the armies sent out against them, one
after another, and in extending their ravages over
so many parts of the kingdom, that the people of
the island were reduced to despair. The army
was dispersed, and Alfred had to fly and conceal
himself, to save his life. He finally went to
service in the family of a herdsman,—a sort of

K
146 KING ALFRED.

farmer, who had care of the cattle-—where he was
once well scolded by the herdsman’s wife for let-
ting some cakes burn. Hume, the historian, relates
the story in the following language :—

“The wife of the neat-herd was ignorant of
the condition of our royal guest, and observing
him one day busy by the fireside, in trimming his
bow and arrows, she desired him to take care of
some cakes which were toasting, while she was
employed elsewhere, in other domestic affairs.
But Alfred, whose thoughts were otherwise en-
gaged, neglected his injunction; and the good
woman, on her return, finding her cakes all burnt,
rated the king very severely, and upbraided him,
that he always seemed very well pleased to eat her
warm cakes, though he was thus negligent in
toasting them.”

After this, Alfred contrived to collect some of
his followers, and to conceal himself with them
in the centre of a vast tract of swampy land. The
piece of firm ground on which he established his
company, contained only about two acres. Here
he remained a year, though he often went on ex-
cursions against the enemy. Finally, his strength
increased, so that he was prepared. to adopt still
more decisive measures. He accordingly formed
a plan for a general mustering of the forces of the
kingdom, in order to make a combined and effec-
tual attack upon the Danes. At this time, another
incident occurred, which has helped to make Alfred
KING ALFRED. . 347

famous. He concluded, before summoning the
army together, that he would go into the camp of
the Danes, in disguise, in order to see what their
strength and condition were. So he procured a
harp, and dressed himself in the disguise of a
harper. In those days, harpers were accustomed to
wander about towns and armies, playing for the
amusement of those who would pay them. Alfred
seems to have acted his part very successfully. He
not only entertained the soldiers and officers with
his harp, but he amused them with tales and jokes,
and finally he made his way into the tent of
Guthrum, the general. There, Alfred learned all
he wished to know, and then returned to his own
camp. ‘his was a very dangerous experiment, for
if anything had occurred even to arouse the sus-
picions of the Danes, he would have been hung at
once.

Immediately after this, Alfred sent messengers
through the kingdom and called his army together,
and, after several battles, expelled the Danes from
the country. He then evinced great wisdom in
the arrangements which he made for reducing the
kingdom to regular order. He founded the most
useful institutions, and restored the ‘dominion of
law and public tranquillity. He has been always
regarded as a great benefactor of the English
nation.
148

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GRACE MIDDLETON.

Crack was returning from a distant part of the
country to her own loved home ; she had been of
ing with a relation, and a long time had —
since she had heard from, or listened to the gentle
GRACE MIDDLETON. 149

voice of her parents; (there was no mail in that
part of the country ;) and as she drew near to each
loved haunt of her early childhood, her heart beat
quick with sweet anticipations of delight. She
fancied her brother and sister very much grown,
but still as loving and happy as when she last
sported with them on the grass-plat by the cottage
door. It was evening when Grace descended the
long, sloping hill, at the foot of which was an
extensive avenue of tall oak trees, leading directly
to the cottage, and the declining sun cast a mel-
ancholy shadow over the face of this well-remem-
bered spot, once resounding with the shouts of
happy infancy.

The heart of Grace grew sad as she drew near —
the cottage, and she wondered very much that no
one was in sight. At length she hears the well-
know bark of old Carlo ;—“ but where are my
parents, my brother and sister! I thought to find
them all here ; where are they ?”

Alas! alas! she soon ascertained they were all
gone; all, save her aged grandfather, who comes
with feeble step to embrace and welcome her.
“The Lord bless you, my child, and blessed be his
name for restoring you to me in my old age;
come with me, and let us give thanks to our
heavenly Father, for all his blessings. It is true
he has seen best to remove those we love most
from us; but it is all right, my child, all right ;”
and he led her into the cottage, where the evening
150 GRACE MIDDLETON.

meal was spread for them by the kind old house-
keeper; but it was a sad meal for Grace, and she
soon hastened to her chamber to weep and meditate
on the change which had taken place in her
absence, and to think of what she ought to do.

It was the spring of the year—and when Grace
arose from her bed the next morning, and looked
forth from the window of her little room, and saw

ll Nature smiling with beauty, she felt refreshed ;
and as she gazed on the beautiful flowers that
grew beneath her window, and listened to the
songs of the birds, and the gentle murmurs of the
little stream which watered the garden, she felt
that she had much to be thankful for, and that
good spirits were near to make her happy; and
when she met her old grandfather in the library,
where it was the custom to assemble the family
for morning prayers, her eyes expressed the peace
and devotion which she felt; and while they par-
took of the repast prepared for them, in the well-
remembered breakfast-room, they talked over the
trying events of the past with humble resignation.
Grace was very thankful to find that she could,
in various ways, make herself useful to her only
relation; and in arranging the occupation of her
time, the garden was to be under her care—to
employ and amuse her as one of her principal
things; and in a short time, she had made so
many improvements, that her grandfather said it |
was quite a little paradise.
GRACE MIDDLETON. 151

The rivulet, which flowed through the garden,
had many flowers growing on its borders; and
here Grace delighted to ramble, for it reminded
her of other and happy days, when she had been
used to gather the flowers, with her little sisters,
to make nosegays for her parents.

One day, when she was walking beneath the
trees of the garden, she saw a beautiful bird build-
ing its nest on one of the branches. This was a
new source of delight to her; and when the nest
was finished, and a little brood of beautiful birds
were heard chirping in the trees, Grace thought |
there was but one thing more she desired, and that
was a pleasant seat for her grandfather, where he
might sit in the heat of the day, and enjoy his nap,
or read his favourite book undisturbed; so she
built him a bower, and planted tine choicest
flowers about it, and watered them morning and
evening, that they might grow and flourish; and
while she did so, she prayed that good affections
might grow in her own heart, and expand like
these flowers; and they did so, for, as she grew
in years, she grew in wisdom and love.

* * * * * *
Several years passed in this peaceful retirement
and the care of her good grandfather,—who was
now quite old, and whose white locks and feeble
step reminded her that he would be called to join
those who had gone before him. But for this she
was prepared ; for he had often spoken to her of
152 GRACE MIDDLETON.

death—he had made this subject familiar to her,
and he had tried as much as possible to elevate
her mind above the grave, that she might think
of her departed friends as near to her, and still
living in a more perfect state; and she knew
it would be far better for him to go and live with
his heavenly Father, than to remain in this world,
even though they might continue to be very happy
together; and when his last hour on earth did
come, it was so full of peace and holy confidence in
the Saviour of man, that she was assisted to feel and
say, “ Father, thy will be done ;” and as she knelt
by his bed-side to receive his blessing, she felt
conscious that ministering angels were present, and
gently removing his spirit from earth to heaven.

Za
mT
HN

i
i


153

a

SHELLS.

“We t, Henry, where have you been? [ have
not seen you this morning.”

“J have been with papa, and he has given me
this little box full of shells. Look, mamma, how
very pretty they are. Papa says they are found in
the sea, and that little fish livein them! Can fish
live in these very small ones, mamma 2”

“ Yes, my dear, a fish has lived in each of these
little shells. I have sometimes picked them up
on the beach with the fish in them; but they are
generally washed on shore when the sea is rough,
and the fish dies and falls out of the shell before
itis picked up; as fish, you know, cannot live out of
the water. Some day I will show youa very beau-
tiful shell, which I have in my cabinet; it is the
shell of the paper nautilus, which is a very curious
little fish, I have heard that it was this fish which
first gave men the idea of building ships to sail on
the sea. These fish have two arms, or horns, which
they put out of their shells; and stretch a kind of
skin across them, which makes a little sail, just like
154 SHELLS.

the sail of a ship. They then stretch two more
arms out of the shell, which they use as oars or
paddles; and when the sea is calm they amuse
themselves by sailing about on the water, and look
very pretty; but if a storm comes on, they draw in
their horns and their little sails, and sink to the
bottom.” ,

“fflave you ever seen them sailing about,
mamma ?”

“No, Henry, I have not, because I have not
been much on the sea; but they are often seen by
sailors, who, you know, are almost always at sea.
There are a great many curious fish in the sea,
some very large indeed, and others very small;
about many of which I shall be happy to tell you
more at some future time.”


155

EMULATION.
A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HENRY AND HIS FATHER,

“ Wuat is the matter, Henry?” asked Mr. Carey
of his son, who looked more sober than usual, one
day, after his return from school.

“TI don’t feel happy,” Henry replied, looking up
into his father’s face with an effort to smile. “ But
I suppose it is my own fault, although I can’t help
it.”

‘fas anything very particular happened 2”

“No, sir. Nothing very particular. Only I’ve
been next to head in my class for a week.”

“Next to head! Why, I thought you had been
at the head of your class for the last three or four
months.”

“So I have been until within a week. But,
since then, do all I can, Herbert Wellmore keeps -
his place above me.”

“And this is the reason of your unhappiness?”

“Yes, sir.”
156 EMULATION.

«But do you think it is a just cause of unhappi-
ness ?”

« T always feel bad if I am not first in everything,
father.” :

“Do you think it right to feel so, Henry ”

“Ts it not right, father, for me to excel others in
every way ?” |

« Ves, if it is in your power to do so; for then
you can be more useful than any one else. But, it
seems that Herbert Wellmore can excel you—
and I suppose he does so fairly.”

“Oh, yes. Itis fair enough — and that is
~~ what I don’t like. It shows that he can do

etter than I can.”

“Then he will have it in his power to be more
useful to his fellow-men than you. And should not
this make you glad instead of discontented ?”

“J didn't think anything about that, father.”

“So I supposed—if you had so thought, you
would, probably, never have been willing to have
seen your school-fellow. But why does this cir-
cumstance make you unhappy ¢”

«J don’t like any one to get ahead of me.”

« Why ?” |

Henry tried to determine in his own mind the
reason, but was unable to do so. Mr. Carey saw
this, and added :

«Don’t you think that selfishness has something
to do with it? Wounded self-love, I have before
told you, is a frequent cause of our unhappiness.
EMULATION. 157

Now, think again, and try if you cannot determine
the reason why you wished to excel all others in
your class.” |

“That I might be thought to be the smartest
boy in it, I suppose.”

“ Would you not call that a mere selfish feeling 2”

“I suppose so. And yet ought I not to try and
keep ahead ?” gid?

“Certainly, as I have said before. But you
should not feel the slightest pain if another boy ex-
cels you fairly. Suppose every boy were to be
disturbed in mind, as you have been, because other
boys were in advance;—don’t you see that every
boy in a class, but one, would be unhappy? And
would that be right? None of us, my son, have
minds alike. This, you know, I have before ex-
plained to you, and also the reason why it is so.
Now, do you remember that reason 2”

* It is because in society there are various uses,
all requiring a different order of talent. Is not
that the reason ?”

“Yes, my son; that is the reason, and I am glad
you have remembered so correctly what I told you
a few daysago. From this you may see that there is
always something that one person will be able to do
better than another; and, of course, one kind of
knowledge that he will be able to acquire more easily
than another. Have you not, yourself, noticed, that
while one boy excels in penmanship, another, who
cannot learn to write even a fair hand, will far out-
158 EMULATION.

strip this one in arithmetic ?—and a third go ahead
of the other two in acquiring a correct geographical
knowledge ?—A fourth delights most in the study
of navigation and surveying, while a dull boy,
in almost everything else, can acquire a know-
ledge of chemical laws more rapidly than any in
his class. You have, of course, observed all this?”

“Oh, yes, frequently. There is Thomas Wiley,
for instance, who, in spelling, reading, and writing,
is always behind every one else; and yet no one
can answer more questions in geography, or project
so beautiful a map, as he can. Charles Lee has
no trouble at all with the hardest question in
algebra; but is deficient in grammar, and hates
his Latin and Greek more than any punishment or
reprimand the teacher can give. And, now I think
_ of it, I don't know any two boys in school who are
alike in regard to learning their lessons.”

“ Do you not think that it would be very foolish in
Thomas Wiley to make himself unhappy because
he could not write so pretty a hand as you do? Or
for Charles Lee to forget all his skill at solving
algebraic problems, in making himself miserable
because he was behind another boy in Latin and
Greek, whose mind was peculiarly fitted for the
acquirement of language, while his was not ?”

“T certainly think it would, father.”

“Then bring this home to yourself. Is there no
one thing in which you can excel Herbert Well-
more ?” |
EMULATION. 159

“Yes, sir. I can solve a problem in half the
time it takes him to do it in. But, then, he is al-
ways correct—and so gets as much as | do from
the teacher, who does not seem to take into account
my superior quickness.”

“Tn this, I need hardly point out to you, my son,
the selfish principle that influences you. Instead
of feeling grateful to your heavenly Father for
having given you the ability to work out a diffi-
cult problem with half the labour it costs another,
you are unhappy because this superior ability is not
praised, and you, in consequence, held up to view
as deserving of more commendation than Herbert;
when, in fact, he is the one who should be praised
for his steady perseverance in overcoming difficul-
ties that are as nothing to you.”

“TI believe I have permitted myself to indulge
in wrong feelings,’ Henry said, after remaining
silent for a few moments. “But I think you
have told me that emulation is not to be con-
demned.”

“It certainly is not, my son. I would have you,
as now, emulousof superior acquirements ; but, at
the same time, aware, that in this emulation there
would be no jealousy or unkind feelings. Be first
in everything, if possible, — and yet willing to
see others excel you,—remembering, that in so ex-
celling they will have the power to be more useful
to mankind; for the true power that resides in
knowledge is the power of doing good.”
160



: Ri a
° SUT eS

——”_

A NURSE’S SONG.

Tue voice of children is heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill ;

When my heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.

“ Now, come home, my children, the sun is down,
And the dews of night fall fast ;

Come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the east.”

No, no, let us play, for it is yet day—
And we cannot go to sleep ;

Besides, in the sky, the little birds fly,
And the hills are all covered with sheep.

*‘ Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to rest.”

The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed for joy.
161

THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY.

A SHEPHERD, who was of an unfortunately discon-
tented turn of mind,—one who was much fonder
of reclining lazily on a sunny bank, than of view-
ing his own lot on its sunny side—was one day
moodily watching his flock, wishing himself all
the while its owner instead of guardian; in other *
words, a happier man. His faithful dog lay beside
him, and every now and then licked the hand of
his master, as it hung listlessly by his side, and
then looked up into his face, as if to read his
thoughts. But the shepherd was in no humour to
stroke the shaggy hide of his friend, Keeper—his
envious musings having been diverted to the sleek
coat of his master’s hunter, which had just bounded,
with its wealthy rider, over an adjacent hedge.
The sullen tender of flocks was all at once roused
from his reverie by the small, silvery voice of a
sprightly little fairy. °

“ What ails thee, my good man ?” said she, tap-
ping his shoulder with her wand; “you seem

L
162 THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY.

mighty melancholy. Have you met with any
disaster ?—lost anything ?—perhaps your wife !”

“ No such luck.

“ Or some of your sheep ?”

“ What should I care—they’re my master’s.”

“ Your purse, then?”

“Purse!” growled the shepherd, “no great loss,
if I had, for it’s always empty.” ;

AM mY .



«Ah! I think I can guess what’s the matter,”
said the fairy: “you are wishing to be rich, and
discontented because you are poor. But, prithee,
now listen tome. Once upon a time, when we
THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY. 163

fairies used to mix much more with mankind than
we do at present, we learnt many of their pernicious
customs; and seeing the high store they set by
money, and the uses to which they applied it, we
(in an evil hour) resolved to have money of our
own. Nature had ready coined it to our hands, in
the gold and silver seeds of flowers, and these we
stored up, and made our circulating medium.
Then came amongst us, envy, avarice, dishonesty.
Instead of being, as heretofore, the protectors of
the beautiful flowers, we became their ravagers ;
instead of the most benevolent and happy little
creatures in the world, we became a discon-
tented, malevolent, and restless race. We began
to dislike our native dells and dingles, and .to
haunt, more than ever, the habitations of man,
We knew well enough, however, that the cause
of all our misery had been our foolish imitation
of their practices; and with a view to revenge,
many a sorry trick and mischievous prank did we
delight to play them—as, doubtless, you may have
often heard. This, however, availed us nothing ;
and, at last, growing tired of such profitless ven-
geance, we made up our minds to return entirely
to our shady recesses, and, what was better, to our
ancient habits. Truly, it cost some of us not a
little to part with our stores of golden treasure ;
but at last we allagreed to throw away our money ;
and having then no farther use for our purses, we
hung them up, as memorials of our folly, upon the

/
164 THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY.

most ugly and worthless weeds we could discover,
where you may even now behold them.”

The fairy, as she spoke, pointed out to the shep-
herd some mean, ragged-looking plants which grew
beside him; and, sure enough, there he saw sus-
pended, the little triangular pods or purses, of
which she had been speaking.

They proved more useful to him than they had
done to their former possessors ; for the common
weed to which they were attached, could never in
future, cross his path, without reminding him of
the lesson of his fairy monitress; taught by which,
he soon found that, in the enjoyment of a contented
mind, a light purse need not always make a heavy
heart.

Nore.—Shepherd’s purse, or wedge-shaped treacle-mustard,
one of our commonest road-side weeds, varying greatly in the
size and form of its leaves. ‘It flowers from spring to the
end of autumn, and ripens copiously its triangular pole or
pouches, whence its name,—distinguished from all other British
plants. The root is tapering, and exhales a peculiar scent
when pulled out of the ground. Small birds are fond of the
seeds and young flowers.’—[Sowerby’s English Botany.

= >
—————————— = —=



= rm i
Tere
SIMPLE PLEASURES.

Far, far down in the pass of the Clara mountains
I dwelt with my sister Joanna. We lived with an
old aunt, who took us home after our father’s
death. She was not in good health, and so could
not do much for us. We were generally left to an
old woman, who had the charge of us; but she
was a little severe, and a little sharp, and very deaf ;
so that we did not have many pleasant days with
her. Nevertheless, we tried to amuse ourselves
as well as we could. We had tamed a little rat,
so that when we laid a bit of sugar on the stone
by the stove, he would come out and eat it, while
we stood in the other corner of the room. It is
true that we dared scarcely breathe, but yet we
were a little flattered by his confidence in us.

Bits of sugar were, however, in these times, rare
treasures for us; and not more than two pieces a
week, could we have for the rat and for our own
eating. Sundays were great holidays for us, for
then we had Cologne water on the corners of our
166 SIMPLE PLEASURES.

handkerchiefs, butter to our potatoes at breakfast,
and roast meat at dinner.

It was also among our pleasures that we could,
twice in the week, walk an hour in the court-yard.
But, as people are seldom content with what they
have, we were not satisfied with our amusements ;
and when summer arrived, and al! the great people
came out to their estates in the country, we took
great pleasure in the idea of making a country
residence for ourselves. We had sometimes fol-
lowed the old woman to the cellar, and we had ob-
served a place in the corner, on which the light
struck from a certain air-hole, open towards the
garden. There we planted a pea, one fine morning
towards the end of May. For three weeks we went
every day, and sought out the place, removing the
earth a little about it, to see whether the pea had
not begun to sprout.

Our delight was great, when, on the twenty-
fourth day, after the planting, we saw a little
swelling up of the pea, beautifully green and very
shy, just peeping up with an expanded leaf.

We danced round it and sang for joy. Near
this plantation we then placed a little pasteboard
house, and before it a small bench, on which we
put some paper gentlemen and ladies. And no
one can have a livelier enjoyment in his country
residence than we had in ours. ~

We lodged in a dark and very small room. But
from my bed I could see a little bit of sky in the
-

SIMPLE PLEASURES. 167

morning, and the chimney of our neighbour’s
house. But when the smoke rose from the chim-
ney, and was coloured red and yellow by the rising
sun, under the dome of the blue sky, then I thought
the world up there in the air must be very beauti-
ful, and I longed to go thither.

I conceived a great desire to fly, and confided
this wish to Joanna. We made ourselves paper
wings, and as these could not lift us up, we tried
whether they would not at least sustain us, if we
let ourselves go, without holding on to anything,
from the stove, chest of drawers, or whatever we
had climbed up upon.

But besides that, we got many bruises in these
attempts, we made such a noise by falling to the
floor, that it brought in the old woman, who gave
a hearty scolding to the clumsy angels. Mean-
while, we thought of still another means of sus-
taining ourselves as we hovered over the earth.
We selected suitable sticks, which we used as
stilts, and on these we went round about the
court yard, imagining all the time that we were
flying.

Would that we had been content with this!

ut the desire to know more of the world without,
threw us into misfortune. The house which we
lived in was situated within a court-yard, and was
separated from the street by a high wooden fence.
A part of the enclosure was a garden, well fenced
168 SIMPLE PLEASURES.

in and belonged to a notary. He was a_ severe
man, and we were much afraid of him.

The temptation to evil came this time in the
shape of a little pig. We saw, one day, when we
were passing our play hour in the court-yard, a
fortunate pig, who was enjoying himself in the
most riotous manner in this garden. Spinach,
tulips, strawberries, and parsley, all were thrown
around him, as he dug with his snout in the earth.

Our anger at this was very great, and not less
our wonder how the pig could have got into the
garden, as the gate was shut and the fence was so
firm. We looked about carefully, and at last dis-
covered a hole, which had been nearly covered by a
few old boards placed against it, but which the
little pig had instinctively found out, and through
which he had forced his way.

We thought it of the greatest importance to get
the pig immediately out of the pleasure garden,
and we could see no other means of doing so than
to creep through, in at the same hole. by which he
had made his way ; and now we hunted with great
zeal our poor guide, and then put in order, as well
as we could, what he had scattered about.

We closed the hole in the fence with a board,
but could not resist the desire to let it serve us,
now and then, as an entrance to this paradise. As
we did not mean to hurt, or even meddle with any-
thing in the garden, we thought it would not be
wrong to take a breath of fresh air now and then.
SIMPLE PLEASURES. — 169

Every Sunday, in particular, we crept in by the
pig’s hole, which we always closed carefully after
us. All around, within the garden fence, there
was a hedge of syringa bushes, which hindered us
from being seen from without.

However, it was very wrong in us to go into
another person’s garden without leave; and we
soon found that every wrong thing brings its
punishment with it sooner or later.

There was a little summer house in the garden,
near that part of the fence which separated it from
the street. There were some bushes so near that
Joanna and I took the bold resolution to climb up
by them, so as to get on the roof of the summer
house, and there to look over the fence into the
street. Thought, said, done.

Proud, triumphant, and glad, we found ourselves,
after a quarter of an hour’s labour, on the much-
promised roof, and richly were we repaid for our
trouble. We had a full view of the street. We
saw, now and then, an old woman witha milk-cart,
sometimes a gentleman in a chaise, and when we
were in great luck, a lady with a parasol; and,
still better, we had even a distinct perspective of
King street, and had the indescribable delight of
seeing a crowd of walkers and idlers, on horseback _
and in carriages, passing by. The whole world
_ seemed to be moving there. After we had once
seen this, we could not live without seeing it again.

One day,—I remember it as if it were yesterday,
170 SIMPLE PLEASURES.

—one day we had taken our high post, and were
looking curiously upon the world in King street.
All at once we saw astately rider on horseback,
and directly after him a pair of white horses, draw-
ing a splendid carriage. That must be the queen!
—perhaps the king himself! Out of our senses
with delight, we began to clap our hands and hurra
loudly. At the same moment we heard the notary
coughing in the garden. We were dreadfully
frightened. We wanted to get down quickly
from the roof, and hide ourselves among the trees;
but, in our alarm, we could not find the right places
for our hands and feet. Joanna rolled like a ball
over the notary’s strawberry bed, and I remained
hanging by the chin to a great nail in the plank, and
screaming as if out of my senses. See! here is the
scar by the nail, it can be seen even now.

These youthful adventures were related to
amuse two little girls, who were suffering under a
disappointment, having been prevented from going
out to see an exhibition of fire-works. When their
governess had reached this point in her stoiy, a
more than delicate supper was announced, and the
children ran off to enjoy it, without stopping to
inquire farther about the scar on the good lady’s
chin.



(From the President’s Daughters by F. Bremer.)
171



THE ROBIN’'S “GOOD BYE” TO LITTLE ARAMINTA.

ROBIN.

Goop bye, good bye! I’m going away !
I'll come again next spring, clear!

I scarce can find one leafy spray,
On which to plume my wing, dear.

ARAMINTA.

Dear Robin, are you going south,
To pass the coming season ?

This chill air don’t agree with you—
You're ill ?—lIs that the reason ?

Your doctor thinks you cannot stay
With safety in this climate?

Advises you to travel? hey ?
(That word—how shall-I rhyme it ?)
172

THE ROBIN’S “GOOD BYE.

ROBIN.

I have no doctor. I’m as well
As you are, Araminta ;

But I’ve relations at the south,
With whom I pass the winter.

We birds, that have no clothes or fire,
Must fly this stormy weather ;

Good bye !—my friends are setting out ;
We always go together.

ARAMINTA.

Stay just amoment! Tell me how
You're going? Wings will weary ;

And there’s no steamboat in the sky ;
The way is long and dreary.

ROBIN.

There’s One above, who will not see
A sparrow fall unheeded ;

He, ’Minta, will watch over me,
And give me strength when needed.

I’m going where the orange glows,

Like gold, thro’ the emerald leaves, love ;
I’m going where its richest rose

The laughing summer weaves, love.
THE ROBIN’s “GOOD BYE.”

ARAMINTA.,

But tell me, Robin, how you'll find
The route you want to glide on;

There are no sign-posts in the air,
Not even a road to ride on!

ROBIN.

Ah, little one! I cannot err,
With His true hand to guide me ;
His care is ever o'er my way,

His helpful love beside me.



17

2
v”
174

THE BABY-HOUSE.

Are there any of you, my young friends, so young
or so ignorant as to believe that, if you might go
to the beautiful toy shops, and had but money
enough to buy just what toys you fancy, you
should be quite happy ?

You have heard of Napoleon, the great Emperor
of France, and perhaps you have heard of his wife,
the lovely Empress Josephine. She had a
daughter, Hortense, who was married to the King
of Holland, Napoleon’s brother. The Queen of
Holland had children, dearly beloved by their
grandmother Josephine. One year, as the Christ-
mas holidays approached, she sent for those
artisans in Paris who manufacture toys, and
ordered toys to be made expressly for her grand-
children, more beautiful and more costly than any
that were to be bought. Her commands were
obeyed—the toys arrived in Holland at the right
time, and on Christmas morning were given to the
children. For a little while they were enchanted ;
they thought they should never see enough of a
THE BABY-HOUSE. 175

doll that could speak, wild beasts that could roar
and growl, and birds that could sing.

But, alas! after a few hours, they were tired of
a doll that could say nothing but ma—ma, pa—pa,
of beasts that growled in but one tone, and the
birds that sang the same note. Before evening
the toys were strewn over the floor, some broken,
all neglected and deserted; and the mother, on
coming into the apartment, found one of the little
princes crying at a window that overlooked a court,
where some poor children were merrily playing.

“ Crying to-day, my son?” she exclaimed. “Oh!
what would dear grandmamma say ‘/—what are you
erying for ?”

“JT want to go and play with those children in
that pretty dirt, mamma.”

This story was brought to my mind last Christ-
mas eve. I went to see a very good neighbour
of ours, Mrs. Selby, a carpenter’s wife. The whole
family are industrious and economical, and obliged
to be so, for Mr. Selby cannot always get work in
these times. He will not call them hard times.
“It would be a shame to us,” he says, ‘to call
times hard when we never go hungry, and have
decent clothes to cover us, and have health on our
cheeks, and love in our hearts.” |

And, sure enough, there was no look of hard
times there. The room was clean and warm.
Mrs. Selby was busy over her mending basket,
putting a darn here, a buttgn in this place, and a
176 THE BABY-HOUSE.

hook and a eye there, to have all in order for
Christmas morning. Her only son, Charles, was
very busy with some of his father’s tools in one
corner; not too busy, though, to make his bow to
me, and draw forward the rocking-chair. I wish
I could find as good manners among our drawing-
room children, as I see at Mrs. Selby’s. Sarah
and Lucy, the two girls, one eleven, the other ten
years old, were working away by the light of a
single lamp, so deeply engaged that they did not
at first notice my entrance. “Where is little
Nannie?” I asked. “She is gone to bed—put out
of the way,” replied Mrs. Selby. “ Oh, mother !”
exclaimed the girls. “Well, then—have not you
banished her?” “Banished? No, mother—Oh !
mother is only teasing us;” and they blushed and
smiled. :

«Tere is some mystery,” said I; “what is it,
Sarah?” “Mother may tell if she pleases, ma’am,”
said Sarah. Mother was very happy to tell, for
all mothers like to tell good of their children.

“You know, ma’am, the children all doat on
little Nannie, she is so much younger than they—
only five years old—and they had a desire to have
some very pretty Christmas gift for her ; but how
could they, they said, with so little money as they
had to spend? They have, to be sure, a little
store. I make it a rule to give each a penny at the
end of the week, if I see them improving in their
weak point.” “Weak point! what is that, Mrs.
THE BABY-HOUSE. 177

Selby?” “Why, ma’am, Charles is not always
punctual at school; so I promised him that if he
will not be one half minute behindhand for a
week, he shall have a penny. Sarah, who is a
little head over heels, gets one for making the
beds and dusting neatly. And Lucy—Lucy is a
careless child—for not getting a spot on her apron.
On counting up Charles had fifty-one pennies
Sarah forty-eight, and Lucy forty-nine.”

“ No, mother,” said Lucy; “Sarah had forty-
eight, and I forty-seven.” “Ah, so it was; thank
you, dear, for correcting me.” “But Lucy would
have had just the same as I, only she lost one
penny by breaking a tea-cup, and it was such cold
weather it almost broke itself.”

I looked with delight at these little girls, so just
and generous to one another. The mother pro-
ceeded: “ Father makes it a rule, if they have
been good children, to give them two shillings each,
for holidays; so they had seventy-five pennies
a-piece.

*“‘ Knough,” said, I, “to make little Miss Nannie
a pretty respectable present.”

“ Ah, indeed, if it were all for Nannie? but they
gave a Christmas present to their father and to me,
and to each other, and to the poor little lame child,
next door; so that Nannie only comes in for a
sixth part. They set their wits to work to contrive
something more than their money would buy, and

M
178 THE BABY-HOUSE.

they determined on making a baby-house, which
they were sure would please her and give her
many a pleasant hour when they were gone to
school. So there it stands in the corner of the
room. Take away the shawl, girls, and show it
to Miss The shawl has been carefully kept
over it, to hide it from Nanny, that she may have
the pleasure of surprise to-morrow morning.” The
shawl was removed, and if my little readers have
ever been to the theatre, and remember their
pleasure when the curtain was first drawn up,
they can imagine mine. The baby-house was three
stories high—that is, there were three rooms, one
above the other, made by placing three old wooden
boxes one on the other. Old, I call them, but so
they did not appear: their outsides had been well
scoured, then pasted over with paper, and the
gum arabic was put on the paper, and over that
was nicely scattered a coating of granite-coloured
smalt. The inside wall of the lower room, or
kitchen, was covered with white paper, to look
like fresh white wash; the parlour and chamber
walls were covered with very pretty hanging-
paper, given to the children by their friend, Miss
Laverty, the upholsterer. The kitchen floor
was spread with straw matting. Charles had
made a very nice dresser for one side, and a
table and a seat resembling a settee, for the
other. The girls had created something in the
likeness of a woman, whom they called acook ; the


THE BABY-HOUSE. 179

broom she held in one hand,—they had made it
admirably,—and the pail in the other was Charles’
handy-work.
and skillet, and dishes for the dresser they had
spent money for. They were determined, first, to
get their necessaries, Sarah said, (a wise little
house-wife,) if they went without everything else.
The kitchen furniture, smalt and gum arabic, had
cost them eighteen-pence—just half their joint
stock.” Then how could you possibly furnish your
parlour and chamber so beautifully ?”

“Qh, that is almost all our own work, ma’am.
Charlie made the frames of the chairs and sofas,
and we stuffed and covered them.” “But where
did you get this very pretty crimson cloth to dover
them, and the materials for your carpet and
curtains?” ‘The parlour carpet was made of dark
cloth, with a centre piece of flowers and birds,
very neatly fashioned, and sewedon. The chamber
carpet was made of squares of divers coloured cloth.

The cloth for the centre-table was neatly worked ;
the window-curtains were strips of rich coloured
cotton sewed together; the colours matched the
colours of the carpet. To my question to Sarah,
where she had got all these pretty materials, she
replied, “Oh, ma’am, we did not buy them with
money, but we* bought them and paid for them
with labour, father says.”

These little girls were early beginning to learn
that truth in political economy, that all property is
180 THE BABY-HOUSE.

produced and obtained by labour. “ Miss Laverty,
the upholsteress, works up stairs; we picked hair
for her, and she paid us in these pieces.”

«The centre-table, bedstead, and chairs,” said the
mother, “and the wardrobe for the bed-chamber,
Charlie made. The bed-sheets, pillows, spreads,
&c., the girls made from pieces fished, as they say,
out of my piece-basket. The work was all done in
their play hours; their working time is not theirs,
and therefore they could not give it away.”

“T see,” said I, looking at some very pretty pic-
tures hanging around the parlour and chamber
walls, “‘ how these are arranged ; they seem cut out
of old books, pasted against pasteboard, and bound
around with gilt paper; but pray tell me how this
little mamma doll was bought, and the little baby in
the cradle, and this pretty tea-set, and the candle-
sticks, and the book-case and flower-vase on the
centre-table, and the parlour stove. Charlie could
make none of these things; you could not contrive
them out of Miss Laverty’s pieces ; and surely the
three sixpences left after your expenditure for the
kitchen, would go very little way towards paying
for them.”

“To tell the truth, ma’am,” said Mrs. Selby,
“the girls were at their wits’ ends. Miss Laverty
could not afford to pay them money for their work.
T had got almost as much interested in fitting up
the baby-house as they, and would gladly have
given them a little more money, but I had not a
THE BABY-HOUSE. 181

shilling to spare. Sarah and Lucy laid their heads
together one night after they went to bed, and in
the morning they came to me and told me their
plan.

“We have always a pudding-pie on Sunday
instead of meat. ‘Can’t you, mother,’ said they,
‘ reckon up what our portion of the pie costs ?—
Make one just large enough for you, and my
father, and Nannie, and we will eat dry bread,
and then, with the money saved, added to our
three sixpences, we will get what we can. At
first I thought it rather hard upon the children,
but my husband and I talked it over toge-
ther, and we concluded, as it was their own pro-
posal, to let them do it. We thought it might be
teaching them, ma’am, to have love, as one may
say, stronger than appetite, and work their little
self-denial up with their love, and industry, and
ingenuity. Poor people, such as we, cannot do
what rich people can, for the education of their
children. But there are some things we can do,
which rich peeple can’t—our poor circumstances
help us. When our children want to do a kind-
ness, as in this matter of the baby-house, they
can't run to father and mother, and gct money to
do it with; they are obliged to think it out, and
work it out, as one may say: and I believe it is
the great end of education, ma’am, to make mind,
heart, and hand work.”

Again I looked at the baby-house, and with real
182 THE BABY-HOUSE.

respect for the people who had furnished it. The
figures on the carpet, the gay curtains, tables,
chairs, &c., were all very pretty, and very suitably
and neatly arranged, but they were something more,
—outward forms, into which Charles, Sarah, and
Lucy had breathed, a soul instinct with love, kind-
heartedness, diligence, and self-denial.



Now, I ask my young friends to compare the
gifts of the poor carpenter’s children to those of
the empress. Hers cost a single order, and a great
deal of money,—theirs, much labour and fore-
thought. If the happiness produced in the-two
cases, to both giver and receiver, were calculated,
which would be the greatest amount? And which,
in reality, were the richest—the rich empress’s
grandchildren, or the poor carpenter’s little family ¢


183

FIDELITY AND OBEDIENCE.

“ TsaBELLE: Isabelle! where are you?” but no Isa-
belle answered ; and Mrs. Howard, her mother,
was just going to send some of the servants after
her, when Bruno, a large Newfoundland dog, rushed
into the hall, and caught hold of her dress in his
mouth. He was wet, and seemed very anxious for
her to follow him; accordingly, Mrs. Howard called
the gardener, and followed Bruno, who seemed
delighted.

There was a large pond at the foot of the gar-
den, and it was towards this that the dog ran; and
as they were proceeding along, a suspicion entered
the mother’s mind, which caused her to hurry for-
ward; need I say that it was of her child she
thought—her darling Isabelle? Soon they reached
the pond, and there, on the bank, lay her daughter ;
but her eyes were closed, and her cheeks so white
that she seemed dead. Mrs. Howard uttered a
shriek of mingled joy and anguish—joy, that she
— out of the pond, and fear that she might not

ive.
184 FIDELITY AND OBEDIENCE.

She sprang forward and raised her from the
ground—she put her hand on her child's heart—
and, oh! happiness! she felt it beat. Isabelle was
immediately carried home, and a physician was sent
for, and he said that she was not hurt in any way,
—that fright, only, had caused her to faint.

Bruno, the faithful Bruno, was given to Isabelle
for her playmate and protector; and often might
the two be seen bounding over the lawn, and
through the meadows; and when the little girl was
tired, Bruno would seat himself under the shade of
some tree, while Isabelle would make him her
pillow, and when she was rested, away they would
run again. But this was on holidays; for Isabelle
was a studious little girl, and did not spend all her
time in play.

I suppose my little readers are all this time won-
dering why I do not tell them how Isabelle came
to fall into the pond: I must beg pardon for
my neglect, and repair the error by telling them.
Well, Isabelle had leave to play in the garden with
Bruno, and, as she was rambling by the pond, she
saw a beautiful tuft of blue violets; and as she
knew her mother was very fond of violets, she
wished very much to get them for her; and though
she had been told never to walk near the edge of
the banks, she thought she should be able to get
the flowers without danger; but in reaching for
them, her foot slipped, and she fell over into the
water.
FIDELITY AND OBEDIENCE. 185

Bruno immediately plunged in, and brought her
safe to the bank, as we have seen; but Isabelle
learnt a good lesson, which she never forgot, and
that was, obedience to her parents; for with obe-
dience to. their commands, they will be always
more pleased and happy, than with the most lovely
flowers in the field.


186

BESSIE LEE.

In an old school-house in one of our rural vil-
lages, one beautiful summer's day, a group of merry
children were assembled. Some were hurrying
with their lessons, while others were turning list-
lessly from their books to gaze with anxious faces
upon the clock, which ticked loudly (and very
slowly on this particular day) in the corner. An
afternoon holiday had been promised, and an ex-
cursion toa not far distant wood, for the purpose
of gathering berries. No wonder, then, all looked
pleased and happy.

At length, the long-wished-for hour arrived. A
waggon appeared at the door to convey the younger
children and the basket to the entrance of the
wood, and the elder scholars tripped gaily on—
each one with a well-filled basket in hand to
contribute to the repast “under the greenwood
tree.” It was not long ere-they reached the
wood.

“Oh, how cool!” one exclaimed, as the breeze
BESSIE LEE. 187

sighed through the trees and rustled the green
leaves; “and how shady!” another cried, as she
walked beneath the spreading branches. 7

Near the entrance of the wood, meandered a
clear stream, and the soft, rich grass sloped gently
to the bank, while the branches of an old elm tree
fell partly on the water, and formed a fairy-like
nook; and here the children stopped,—’twas the
very spot for their feast, before they gathered their
berries. The baskets were quickly opened, and the
contents spread upon the mossy bank. But who
was to do the honours of the table? Their choice
quickly fell upon a beautiful girl, the daughter of
the minister. Bessie Lee was indeed beautiful ;
her golden hair clustered round her face, and her
eyes, of the colour of the noonday sky, shaded by
their dark lashes, gave an unusually lovely expres-
sion to her countenance ;

‘‘ And her laugh, full of life, without any control,
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul.”

No wonder, then, she was loved by all—rich and
poor, young and old. A wreath of wild flowers
was twined by the happy subjects, and the lovely
queen was crowned. And then they separated to
gather the berries, going in different directions, but
intending to meet by the spring ere they returned
home.

Bessie hurried eagerly on towards the interior of
188 BESSIE LEE.

the woods, but she went not alone; her cousin,
Harry Morton, about her own age, accompanied
her to help to fill her basket. Hand in hand they
wandered, ever and anon stopping to gather the
clustering berries, or the bright flowers, that grew
in their path. They heard the voices of their com-
panions, but soon the sound died away in the
distance. Yet they pressed on, conversing gaily;
—but the baskets were filled, and should they not
return, asked Harry of his cousin. She looked
up,—the sun was shedding his declining rays
through the trees, and the woods were flooded
with golden light.

“T did not know it was so late,” exclaimed
Bessie: “ we shall be missed, and our schoolmates
will be waiting by the spring; we shall have to
walk fast.”’

They turned to retrace their steps and hastened
on. “Surely,” said Henry, “this is not the way
we came; the trees are closer together, and I do
not see the big chestnut we said we would have for
a landmark.” “Qh,” cried Bessie, “that is farther
on; it was just where the two roads met ;—we
shall soon be there—don’t you think so?’ The
poor boy did not answer; he felt that they had lost
their way, and he feared to tell his cousin, for timid
as a fawn she had always been.

“Are you tired, Bessie?” He looked into her
face; the flush of hope had disappeared, and her
faltering steps could scarce support her. He
BESSIE LEE. 189

placed his arm around her slender waist; “ Lean
upon me, cousin ; you are fatigued.”

“Oh, Henry!” she exclaimed, bursting into
tears; “we are lost; and my poor mother, how
will she feel? We shall never see her again; we
shall have to stay in this dark place all night—and
the bears and lions—oh, what shall we do 2”

“Do not ery, dear cousin; there are no wild
animals here now ; there is nothing to hurt us here.
The woods in this part are free; and don’t
you know what we read this morning,—there were
no lions in this country ?”

And so he tried to comfort her, and poor Bessie
dried her eyes and tried to smile. “ We are like
the ‘ Babes in the Wood,’ Harry; only I am afraid
there are no pretty robins who will cover us up with
leaves, and watch over us.”

The last rays of the sun faded away, and the
golden-fringed clouds melted into blue. The full
moon rose high in the heavens, and the bright stars
shone -calmly down on the lost ones. Exhausted,
the cousins sank upon the grass, under an old tree,
whose friendly branches stretched far and wide to
shelter them.

“TI can go no farther,” cried Bessie; “ my head
aches, and I feel so tired. Oh, if I could only see
mother,—she will be so frightened. Do you think
any one will come to find us ?”

“Do not feel so bad,” said Henry; “ nothing
will hurt us. God will take care of us, and it wil
190 BESSIE LEE.

soon be morning, and then we can easily find our
way out of the woods. Your father will send
some one for us, or he may come himself, who
knows ?”

“ Hark!” cried Bessie, springing to her feet;
“did you not hear a noise? Something rustled in
the grass; I am sure it was a snake.” She clun
closer and closer to Harry, and it was with difficulty
he could soothe her. He told her how groundless
were her fears; that a protecting Providence
watched over them, and they would not be
harmed.

He wrapped her shawl closer around her, for the’
night air was chilly to her tender frame. “The
soft grass shall be your bed, Bessie, and I will watch
over you; but first let us say our evening prayer, -
just as if we were at home.” Together the cousins
knelt down and offered their humble petition to the
Most High, and then they lay down on their mossy
bed to sleep,—Bessie, with her head pillowed on the
breast of Harry; his arm supported her, and so they
slept. Sweet visions of home haunted their dreams,
and their parents’ loved faces smiled upon and
blessed them.

It was morning; the sun was just rising, and a
faint light was diffused through the trees, and the
birds were carolling forth their matin songs. Bessie
still slept—the innocent sleep of childhood. Henry
lay in the same position, for he would not disturb
BESSIE LEE. 191

her. For hours he had lain listening to every
sound.

At length Bessie awoke; she looked around,—
“ Where am I?” were the first words that escaped
her lips. She looked at Henry. “Oh! I remember
now ; we have been here all night. Do you think
we shall get home to-day ?”

“Oh, yes;” said her cousin, gaily. “I am so
glad you have rested so well. We will soon set
out, and perhaps we shall get home to breakfast.
But eat some of the berries, Bessie, and then we
will try to find our way out of the wood.”

She tasted the berries, but pushed them
aside. “I cannot eat; I feel, Harry, if we do not
soon get home, I shall never eat again.”

“Oh! do not grieve so, dear, dear Bessie. Look,
the sun is shining brightly through the trees; so
that 1s east, and you know the woods lie west of
the school-house; so we will walk towards the sun,
and then we will soon see dear home.” He placed
his arm carefully around her, and they set out, her
steps still faltering.

Mile after mile they thus walked, for they had
wandered far the preceding night. At times the
trees grew thinner, and they would congratulate
themselves they were almost home; but then again
they could hardly find their way through the over-
grown path.

“T cannot go much farther, Harry ; for my head
throbs almost to bursting, and I-am so dizzy, I can
192 BESSIE LEE.

hardly see.” Bessie stopped and leaned for support
against a tree; her hat fell back and revealed her
face deadly pale. Poor Harry gazed upon her in
despair. What if she should die there in the
wood, away from all that loved her? The thought
was agony,—the scalding tears started to his eyes.
He took hold of her hand; “ Bessie, speak to me;
lean upon me—we will soon be home, only think
eee

At that instant, a plunge was heard in a neigh-
bouring bush. Bessie, too, heard it; it recalled
her fleeting senses. She looked up,—a beautiful
dog came bounding towards her. She stretched
out her arms; “’Tis Carlo; dear, dear Carlo!”
The dog crouched at her feet. She stooped to
embrace the animal—the tear-drops glistened in
her éyes and fell warm upon the faithful creature.
“Oh, Harry! he has come to save us; we shall see
home once more.”

But she was too weak to walk, and how was he
to bear her home? Delicately formed himself, and
worn out with fatigue and watching nearly the
whole night, he could scarce bear his own weight.
Carlo bounded gaily on, inviting them to follow. A
voice was heard in the distance, calling on ‘their
names,—* Bessie! Harry!” He tried to answer,
but his voice was low and feeble. “ Bessie, let me
help you; I hear voices; let us try to meet them;
I will support you.” He raised her from the ground
and tried to bear her on. The voices approached
Pages
193-198
Missing

From
Original
BESSIE LEE. 199

nearer and nearer; again he essayed to answer,—
this time he was heard. They saw some one com-
ing rapidly towards them, and recognised Bessie’s
father. He hurried on, and received the almost in-
sensible form of his child in his arms. He was ac-
companied by some of his neighbours, who support-
ed Harry home. Scarce half an hour elapsed, ere
Bessie was laid in her mother’s arms. Carlo, half
maddened with joy, frisked and gambolled round
them. In vain poor Bessie tried to tell her story,
but tears and sobs choked her voice.

They had wandered very far into the woods. On
the return of their schoolmates without them, the
anxious father, accompanied by some kind neigh-
bours, had spent the night in search of them; but
had been unable to trace them, and returned wearied
and alone. Another party had immediately formed,
and the bereaved father had insisted on again ac-
companying them. Carlo, Bessie’s little favourite,
had followed, and it was the instinct of the faithful
animal that led the father to his children. And
now they were safe in their own loved home ; and
many a fervent prayer of thanksgiving for the re-
covery of the lost ones ascended that night to
heaven, from the humble dwelling of Pastor Lee.
200 2,

THE STARS.—ORION.

“QO FATHER,” said Rollo, looking up; “look at the
sky; see how full of stars it is.” :
The sky was indeed very full of stars. The
galaxy, or the milky way, as it is sometimes called,
was very bright. Rollo looked at the stars a mo-
ment, and then he got into thesleigh. His father
advised him to take a seat with him, behind; but
Rollo said he wanted to sit with Jonas, and see the
pond, when they came to it.
“J am afraid you will be cold,” said his father.
“No, sir,” said Rollo; “I don’t think it is cold.”
So Rollo took his place, by the side of Jonas, on
the front seat, and they rode along. After going
‘at a brisk pace for a few miles, they came to the
top of a hill, where the pond first appeared in
sight. It looked like a great level field covered
with snow. They could see a dark line winding
along ina gently-serpentine direction across the
surface of it. Jonas said that this was the road
they were to take in crossing the pond.
THE STARS.—ORION. 201

The horse went rapidly down the hill, and before :
long they were upon the pond. There was not
much wind, but a light breeze blew keenly towards
Rollo’s face, and made his nose and cheeks cold.
So he said he meant to turn round towards his
father.

His father proposed to him to come and sit upon
the back seat ; but he said he should be warm upon
the front seat, if he only turned round. So he put
his feet over the seat, and enveloped them in the
buffalo skins which were down in front of the back
seat, and the buffalo skin which had been before
him, he threw over his shoulders, so that now he had
a very good place indeed. He could see, all around
him, the shores of the pond, with the lights in the
farm houses on the land, and all.the constellations
‘which were spread out before him in that quarter
of the heavens at which he was looking.

“O father,” said Rollo, “I see three stars all in
arow. I wish I knew the names of them. Could
you look round and see, father ?”

“ Why, not very well,” said his father. “I can-
not look round, I am so muffled up.”

Rollo, being seated on the front seat, with his
back to the horse, of course was looking at that
part of the sky which was behind the sleigh, so
that his father could not see the constellation in
that quarter of the heavens. )

“Let me see,” said his father; “we must be -
going nearly west, so that that part of the sky is
202 THE STARS.—ORION.

the eastern part. Orion must be rising about this
time. Perhaps the stars which you see are the
stars in the belt of Orion.”

“In the belt of Orion?” repeated Rollo.

“Yes,” said his father. “The most beautiful
constellation in the sky is Orion; and early in the
winter it rises in the evening. Orion was a hunter,
and he has a belt: and in his belt are three
beautiful stars, all in a row.”

“ Well, father,” said Rollo, “ tell me some other
stars that ought to be near, if it is really the belt
of Orion that I see, and then I will tell you if they
are there.”

“Very well,” said his father. “If they are the
three stars in the belt of Orion, they lie in a line
one above the other, not one by the side of the
other. I mean by that, that, if there was a line
drawn through them, and continued each way, it
would bea line running up and down in the sky,
not a line extending from one side to the other.”

“Ves, sir,” said Rollo; “this row of stars is
in a line up and down.”

And off on each side of the little row of stars
are two other bright stars, on each side.”

“ How far off, sir?” said Rollo.

“About twice. as far, I should think, as the
little row of stars.” . .

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “I see one of them.
Yes, I see them both. One is on one side, and
the other is on the other side.”
‘
THE STARS.—ORION. ; 203

“Ves: then I have no doubt it is Orion that
you see. One of the stars that you last found is in
his foot, and the other is in his shoulder.”

“T wish I could see his shape,” said Rollo, “all
drawn out in the sky.”

“Tt would be very convenient, I have no doubt,”
replied his father. “Pretty near the lowest of the
three stars in the row, there is a faint cluster of
stars, towards the south.”

“Veg, sir,” said Rollo; “I see them.”

“They are in Orion’s sword,” said his father.

“T see them,” said Rollo. °

** Now, look at all the stars in the constellation

again, and notice how they lie in respect to each

other, so that you will know the constellation when
you see it again.”


204

THE APPLE.

Litriz Anna bent over a quiet brook, and smiled
with pleasure at what she saw there. A beautiful
living picture was reflected from the clear water.
There, bright clouds seemed to sail slowly along,
through the clear blue sky, and the leaves of the
trees seemed to flutter in the softsummer air. In the
midst of these pleasant appearances stood the image
of a beautiful little girl, with laughing blue eyes
and brown curled hair, which hung down over her
white frock, as she stooped forward, as if to look
back upon Anna, with a good-natured smile.

While Anna was looking and wondering at the ©
beauty of this picture, an apple fell with a rush
into the water, and spattered her face with small
water-drops. |

“ What is that ?” said she, wiping her eye-lashes
with her little hand. “Oh, it is an apple, covered
with bright red cheeks. It is swimming off down
the brook, but I will see whether I cannot stop it.”
She broke off a blue iris, with a long stem, and
THE APPLE. 205

after trying many times, she at length drew the
apple to the shore, and taking it up witha smile,
she turned it round and round, to look at its red
streaks.

“ Little apple !” said she, with a soft voice, “little
red striped apple. I should never have dared to
break you from the tree, because the tree does not
belong to my father, but to good neighbour
Ackerman; but a kind wind has'blown you down
into the brook, and now that I have drawn you out
with the flag blossom, would it not be best for me
to try whether you are as good as you are pretty ?”
_ She sat down on the grass, under the tree, and

after she had wiped the apple, she ate it with a very
good relish.

Before she had finished, another apple fell
directly into her lap. She wondered very much
at this last wind-fall, but was much pleased, and
thought it still more beautiful than the first. Soon
after, a twig fell into her lap, with three apples
upon it. Much astonished, she looked up to the
- tree, and among the thick boughs she saw little
Fritz looking down upon her with roguish eyes.
He was a bright boy, but he loved mischief better
than work or study. He had gone to the garden
of neighbour Ackerman a little before Anna, not
to look into the brook, but to climb the tree where
the sweet red apples grew. He saw Anna looking
into the brook, and mischievously threw an apple
to disturb the water. He was very much amused
206 THE APPLE.

to observe Anna’s surprise, and her innocent belief
that the wind had broken off the apple, although it
was a calm summer day, and no air was stirring.

When Anna saw Fritz in the tree, she under-
stood what made the apples fall. She grew al-
most as red as the apples, and cast down her eyes.

Fritz longed to talk with her, but did not know
how to begin. At length he said,—

“ Was it good, Anna ?”

Then he slid down the smooth stem of the tree
and stood close beside her, but he did not know how
to begin a conversation there, any better than he
did in the tree.

Suddenly, farmer Ackerman appeared from be-
hind a clump of bushes, and looked earnestly at
them. He was an old man, and was much loved
and respected by all his neighbours.

Anna and Fritz coloured and looked frightened.
They would have slipped away, but he called to
them,—

“What disturbs you so, my little ones? What
must I understand from those eyes, which turn
away from mine, the sudden colour of your cheeks,
and these unquiet doubtful looks? Did you come
under my apple tree to enjoy the cool shade, or
were you enticed by the apples?

“J am not surprised to see Fritz here, but you,
Anna, whom I have always considered so innocent,
how could you encourage ‘this little rogue to rob
THE APPLE. 207

my tree, and receive the apples after he had stole
them 2”

Anna made no answer, but the tears rolled down
her cheeks, and her bosom swelled with grief.
Fritz could not bear the sight of her distress.

“She has done nothing wrong,” said he; “I
am the only one to blame.” 7

He then told the farmer how it had all happened,
and confessed his dishonest intentions in climbing
the tree. The farmer kindly said, “A fault confessed
is half amended.” He then wiped little Anna’s
eyes, with the corner of her apron, and gave her
the handsomest apple he could find on his tree.
Anna thanked him, with a sobbing voice and said,
“IfI see another apple in the brook, or in the
road, I will not touch it till I know whose it is,
and how it came there !”

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208

THE NEW SINGING SCHOOL.

Do re mi fa sol la si do,

Do si la sol fa mi re do.

Come, begin and follow me,

‘Tis down upon the board, you see ;
Young ladies turn your heads this way,
Look on the board, the board, I say!

PUPILS.

Do mire fa sol si la do,—

MASTER.

Stop ! now is that the way you'd go ?
Where are your eyes and ears to-night ?
Cannot you sing two notes aright ?

A SWALLOW ON THE EAVES,

What is the matter down below ?
What dreadful clatter, do yéu know ?
THE* NEW SINGING SCHOOL. 209

SWALLOWS MATE.

It isa singing school, my dear, ©
There’s do re mi, pray don’t you, hear ?

SWALLOW,

Is that the way folks learn to sing ?

{ ne'er imagined such a thing.

Ah me! why what a time they make !
They really make my ear-drums ache ;
Why, what a dreadful noise they keep—
They waked me from a nice sound sleep.

MASTER.

Beat! beat your time, and mind the board,
Was such a discord ever heard ?

Put up your chestnuts, boys, and beat,—
You did not come to school to eat.

Come, if you can’t sing do re mi,

Follow as I sing one, two, three.

BOYS.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,—
He! he! he !—eight, nine, ten, ‘leven.
MASTER,

Boys! mind your manners, or go home,
And learn them ere again you come.
210

eB
THE NEW sINGING SCHOOL.

PUPILS.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

MASTER.
Why, really, now you've sung it straight ;

Now answer, if you can, and tell,
What is the first note in the scale ?

FIRST BOY.

Don’t know,—b'lieve ’tis h or i.

MASTER.

Shame! I should think the seats would cry,
*‘ Shame on you !”

FIRST BOY.

Well, I know that I
Was, am, and will be, number one ;
And ’tis by that the scale ’s begun.

MASTER.

And now the third ?

SECOND BOY.

The third is mi.
THE NEW SINGING SCHOOL. 211

FURST BOY.

It is not me then,—He! he! he!—
‘Tis you, not me, I’m third to none,
I'll be always number one.

MASTER.

Take care, boy, how you jest with me;
Again, what note is number three ?
Now do the best that you can do.

& FIRST BOY.

I rather think ’tis w.

MASTER,

Sirrah ! you know, and know full well,
There's no such letter in the scale.

The third note is the letter e,

And, mind, the syllable is mi.

FIRST BOY.

Me, is i? Oh, if that be true,
Then, I am sure ’tis double you.

PUPILS.

Ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! he! he!
212

THE NEW SINGING SCHOOL.

MASTER.

Oh, Apollo, pity me !—

Young Miss, I’ve not yet heard you sing,
Have you a cold, or anything ?

** Don't know ?” Oh, you feel bashful ; boys!
Look on your notes, and stop that noise.

Do mi sol do, do sol mi do.

PUPILS.

Do mi sol do, do sol mi do.

MASTER.

Out of tune is the way we go;
I'll sing, and in Apollo’s name,
Now try if you can do the same.

SWALLOW.

Oh, were it day, and I on wing,

I would teach them how to sing ;
But this is shocking ; even twitter,
Twit, twit, twit, were surely better.

CHORUS OF YOUNG SWALLOWS.

Twitter ! twitter ! twit! twit! twit!
Boys and girls have little wit.
THE NEW SINGING SCHOOL. 2138

SWALLOW.

Do hear our young ones, how they sing!
They find it quite an easy thing.

They ne'er beat down, up, hither, thither,
And never saw the blackboard, neither.

MASTER.

And now you have sung one, two, three,
Perhaps you'll say your ab c;
Come, say it,—c de f g,—

BOYS,
Hijkimna.—

SWALLOWS.

Oh, defend us! what a din ?
How hard they try to learn to sing
‘Tis really an amusing thing.

MASTER.
Enough ! enough ! you may sing now
“¢Old Hundred” once, then you may go.
CHORUS OF SWALLOWS.
That's. pretty well, but might be better ;
Not so good as twitter! twitter !

Twitter! twitter! twit! twit! twit!
Boys and girls have little wit.
TAA BAR ALMIUND NG ALAA LIL

ATK

G7

Wi) Ny I"


215

THE BALLOON.

“Ou! brother, what is that?” exclaimed little
Mary to her brother James. . |

“ What do you mean, sister 2”

“ Why, that thing, away up in the sky,—what
is it?” And Mary pulled her brother by the arm
as she looked up at the strange-looking object.

“Qh, that thing so far up in the sky; well, it is
an odd looking creature. I wonder if it is a bird;
let us ask John the gardener; perhaps he knows.”

“John! John!” cried both children at once,
“what is that wonderful-looking object, up there 2”

John looked up very wise, shook his head, and
looked again,—*“ Oh ! it is a balloon.” | |

“ Well, pray, sir, will you tell us what a balloon
is made of,” said James, “and how it enables one
to go up into the air so great adistance 2”

“The balloon is made of oiled silk, or of silk
prepared with a solution of India-rubber, made per-
fectly air tight, and is filled with air, lighter than
the common air we breathe.”

O
216 THE BALLOON.

‘¢ But where can this air be obtained ?” said
James.

“There are many ways of obtaining it, but the
easiest is to go to the gaslight company, and pur-
chase as many gallons as may be wanted to make
the balloon rise.”

“This is, indeed, curious,” said Mary ; “ I never
thought air was bought and sold.”

“ What is the wse of a balloon?” asked James,
who was very fond of asking questions about every-
thing.

«T don't know that it is of any use, at present,”
replied John, “but it may possibly be made of
use at some future time.”

“TI should like to go up in it,” said James; “ it
must be so beautiful to sail through the air, and
look down on the cities and villages, and green
fields, and woods.”

“ Oh, dear !” cried Mary; “JZ should not like to
go;—only think, we might fall out.”

“ Well, sister, I don’t think there is much chance
of our ever trying it, though I should not be afraid.
But let us go and inquire further about the matter,
for it is certainly a very wonderful affair. I dare
say father will be able to tell us a great deal ‘more
than John can, and we may meet with some one
who has been above the clouds in one of these zrial
cars or baskets.”
217

CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS.

Tue next afternoon, when Catherine found her
mother at leisure, she came and stood close by her,
and looked in her face for some time.

“What are you looking at me for, so steadily ?”
said Mrs. Nelson.

“Tam trying to see the pictures in your eyes,
mother; and don’t you remember, that you said
you would tell me more about these curious little
painters, as you call them? Is it only that small
dark spot in the middle of your eye that sees ?”

“That little place, my dear, is a sort of window,
which lets in the light that makes the picture upon
the back part of the eye. Itis called the pupil,
and it is what is meant by ‘the apple,’ which you
recollect being puzzled with in the Psalm that you
read for your Sunday lesson. Do you remember
it?’ After a while, Catherine said, “Oh, yes ;”
and repeated this verse, “ Keep me under the

apple of thine eye, hide me under the shadow of
thy wings.”
218 CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS.

« By this little round window the light enters
the eye, and passes through to the back part of it,
and represents there, upon what is called the
retina, everything that we see. So you perceive that
if anything happens to the pupil of the eye, no light
can enter it; and we should see nothing of all this
beautiful and glorious world around us; we should
be in perpetual darkness.”—* And now, mother, I
understand the Psalm; for it is necessary that
these two little windows should be kept very safe,
as safe as we pray that God would keep us. But
is that a little hole in the eye, mother?”

“No, my dear, this precious part of the eye has
a covering over it like the chrystal ofa watch ; this
is properly called the cornea, a Latin word that
means like horn, because it resembles thin horn
that the light can shine through,—as you may
ascertain by asking the cook to show you a fish’s
eye, and looking at this part.”

« And is the eye all hollow, mother? or what is
between the pupil and the place on the back part
of the eye where the picture is painted, that you
called—I forget what you called it, mother

“The retina, my dear, from a Latin word that
means anything by which another thing is held or
retained, as this part of the eye holds or retains
the picture of things. You ask me what is between
the pupil and the retina. There are in the eye
three different substances, called humours, all trans-
parent. A transparent substance means anything
CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS. 219

that can be seen through. The first one, directly
back of the pupil, is called the acquweous, from a
Latin word, that means watery : it is a thin liquid,
like water. The second, behind that, is called the
crystalline humour, from its clearness and bright-
ness. It is formed like the glasses they use in
telescopes, and is fastened at the edge by the deli-
cate transparent substance that covers it, called a
membrane. The one beyond this, and next the
retina, is called the vitreous humour, from its re-
semblance to glass. All these substances assist in
forming the images of objects on the back of the
eye; but you are not old enough to understand
how, at present, my child.”

“'Then, mother,” said Catherine, “our eyes are
as curious as grandfather’s telescope, or as the
camera obscura, that he gave us to see pictures
with.”

‘*‘ They are far more curious, my dear; and it is
by imitating the eye that they can make them so
well. I remember, Catherine, when your grand-
father sent that camera obscura to you the other
day, and your father showed you the pictures in it,
that you and Lucy and James capered about the
room with joy, saying, ‘Oh, how good grandfather
is to give us such a beautiful thing ’!—and now,
my dear, when you go into a garden and dance with
joy at the sight of the flowers; when you look up
with so much wonder and delight at the beautiful
moon sailing through the clouds, and at the bright
220 CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS.

twinkling stars; when, after having been even one
day away from your father and mother, you feel so
happy at looking in our faces, and reading in them
our love for you,—of whose goodness ought you to
think 2 Who has given you eyes to see all these
delightful things? Whom should you then love?
Of whom then should you speak, and say, ‘ Oh,
how good He is?”

Catherine felt and understood what her mother
said, and answered her, that it was God.

“T have yet much more, my dear,” said her mo-
ther, “to tell you about the eyes, that is very
wonderful. This beautiful little round window
grows larger and smaller as you want more or less
light. When there is a great light, it contracts so
as to take in but little; and when the light is
faint, it becomes nearly twice as large, so as to take
in more.”

“ Why, mother,” said Catherine, “how can that
be ?”

“Shut the shutter,’ said Mrs. Nelson, “and
then look in my eye.” She did so; and she saw
the pupil of her mother’s eye grow larger and
larger. “Now open it,” said her mother. She
did so, and it gradually became smaller. “Oh,
it is very curious,’ said Catherine. “ But,
mother, is not that pretty rim round the pupil of
any use ?”

“That is what it called the iris,” answered her
mother, “which is the latin name for rainbow, I
CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS. oa

suppose from some fancied resemblance to it. It:
is thought that by means of it the pupil of the eye is
enlarged or contracted. If you remember, my child,
the pain you feel in your eyes when you come from
the dark suddenly into the light, you will understand
the use of this, and see what a beautiful eontrivance
it is. In the dark your pupils become very large,
so as to catch all the light they can. When the
light comes before they have time to grow smaller,
they take in more light than they can bear without
pain.

“ There is another thing that you never
thought of. You know that if your eyes were
fixed fast, as your ears and nose are, you could
only see straight forward, or you would have to
keep your head twirling about continually. But
the eye is set loose in the head, and surrounded
with little muscles, things with which we can turn
it up, or down, or in any way, just as we wish.
You‘know how long it takes grandfather to fix his
telescope; but our eyes are ready, quicker than we
‘think. |

“ You perceive, my dear, that this beautiful and
curious thing, the eye, is very delicate, and easily
injured, and if anything destroys our sight, it is a
great calamity, and that the eye ought to be care-
fully protected. And so you will find that it is.
It is placed ina deep socket, surrounded by bone,
and lined with something very soft. It shelves
over on the upper part, so as to form the eye-bow,
222) CURIOUR LITTLE PAINTERS.

which is a great protection to it. It is important
that it should be kept clear and bright, and there
is a little vessel close to it, full of salt water, called
tears, to wash it clean, whenever we open or shut
the eye; and there is a little hole in the bone of
the nose to carry off the water after it has washed
the eye. Then it has a nice cover, which we call
the eyelid, with a beautiful fringe on the edge of
it to shut the eye up tight, away from the dust and
air when we do not want to use it: and which
moves so quick, that it shuts up in an instant if
anything touches or alarms the eye. Indeed, it
seems to be always employed in watching over
and protecting this precious instrument of know-
ledge.

“There is still another thing, my dear, to be re-
membered about the eye. It is so made that sight
is pleasant to it. The blue sky, the green grass, |
the flowers, the rainbow, all give it pleasure.

“ A baby, you know, loves to look about, though
it knows nothing. Our Father in Heaven has
made it a great happiness to us merely to open our
eyes upon the beautiful world he has made.”

After a short silence, Catherine said to her mo-
ther, “ You told me that these curious painters, as
you call them, drew the pictures of everything in
that wonderful book that you described. How is
that done, mother ?”

« All we know,” answered Mrs. Nelson, “is,
that the back part of the eye, where the pictures
_CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS. 233

are painted, is connected with the brain, and that
by this means we become acquainted with the ap-
pearance of things.”

Wet. Spent Hour.

ray |
nm Wht Tie
aa
PT] dt} | nN
ee
tL diehh taaeertng

*


THE UPAS, OR POISON TREE.

Tas curious and wonderful tree is found in the
forests of Java; the gum which it yields is a
rank poison, and, indeed, so strong and powerful
is the poison of this tree, that the effluvia from it
prevents any tree, plant, or shrub, from growing
within ten or twelve miles of it. The country
is perfectly barren; not a living thing, or even a
blade of grass, is to be seen. The chiefs and
grandees of the country poison the points of their
arrows and daggers with the poison of this tree ;
but as it is certain death to approach the tree, the
task of collecting the gum is given to people who
have committed some very wicked act, and are con-
demned to suffer death. After sentence of death
has been passed on them, they are allowed to choose
whether they will be executed, or go to the upas
tree for a quantity of the gum.

“Tf they were to ask me, mamma, I would go to
the tree.’

“Many of them do go, Henry ; but I believe
THE UPAS, OR POISON TREE. 225

not more than two out of twenty escape death.
Before the criminals commence their journey, they
are furnished with a box for the gum, a pair of very
thick leather gloves, and a kind of leather cap,
which is drawn over the face and reaches down to
the waist. They wear this cap to prevent them
as much as possible from inhaling the air, which,
as I mentioned before, is poisonous for some miles
round the tree; there are two glasses fixed in the
cap, to enable them to see without removing it;
they are usually accompanied by a priest for the
first three miles of their journey, who, when he
takes leave of them, blesses them, and informs them
in which direction they are to travel, and also ad-
vises them to proceed as speedily as they can, as
that is the only chance they have of saving their
lives.”

“1 should think, mamma, it would be much
better to do without poison, as it is only used to
kill people.”

“You are mistaken, Henry, in imagining that
poisons are only used for so bad a purpose. Some
of our most valuable medicines are poisons; but
_ mixed with other drugs, and properly administered,
they cure many painful diseases. Many poisonous
herbs are also used in dying different colours.
There is another poison tree, which grows in this
country; it is found in damp, marshy places, and
resembles the ash. It never grows very large.
The wood of this tree is poisonous, if you either
226 THE UPAS, OR POISON TREE.

touch or smell it, but it is not fatal; the effects of
the poison go off in a day or two. If a piece of
the wood is put into the fire, the smell of it will
poison some persons, and cause them to swell and
itch all over, whilst others are not in the least af-
fected by it, and can even taste the wood without
being hurt by it. It is as cold as ice to the feel,
so that if you take up a piece with a handful of
other sticks, you would discover it immediately.
Little children should be very careful never to pick
or eat the berries of any tree. I have often heard
of little boys being very ill, and even dying, from
having eaten the berries of trees growing in the
hedges, mistaking them for fruit.”


227

DISOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSE- —
QUENCES.

“TI WANT you to come over to our house, after
dinner, and play with me,” said Alfred Barlow, one
Saturday morning, to a little fellow, named Wilson
Green. “Father has just put us up aswing. It
is made with two ropes tied to a limb of the great
oak tree, and has a basket at the bottom, big
enough to hold two. And then we have got a
good many other things to play with. Won't you
ask your father to let you come ?”

“Qh, yes! And [Il come right away after
dinner,” said Wilson, full of delight at the thought
of spending an afternoon with Alfred.

When Wilson went home, he asked his father to
let him go over to Mr. Barlow’s, and play with
Alfred. But his father told him that he did not
wish him to go there.

This was a sore disappointment to the little boy.
He did not ask his reason why he refused to let him
go; for this he knew would be of no use. But he
998 pISOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

was so very desirous of going, that he soon began
to think about disobedience.

“ Fell never know it,” he said to himself, as he
saw. his father leave the house. “ He never comes
home from the mill until night, and I can be back
long before that time.” |

Something whispered to Wilson that to disobey
his father would be to do a very wicked thing ; but
he quickly turned from the warning thought,
and in a little while determined that he would run
over to Alfred Barlow’s for a short time.

Wrong as this was, Wilson so far forgot his duty
to his parents, as actually to go over to Mr. Barlow’s
very soon after his father had gone away. Instead,
however, of spending the delightful afternoon as
he had anticipated, he found all the family in much
alarm for Alfred’s little sister, who had been taken
very ill since morning. Of course, all thoughts of
play were banished from the mind of Alfred, who
loved little Anna very much, and could not be
persuaded to leave her bed-side a moment.

As soon as Mrs. Barlow found Wilson in the
chamber of her sick child, she told him that he
had better run home, as the doctor feared that
Anna had the scarlet fever, and she did not wish
any of her neighbours’ children to be exposed to
the danger of taking it.

Slowly did Wilson Green leave the house in
which he promised himself so much delight, and
turn his steps homeward with no very happy feel-
DISOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 229

ings. He had disobeyed his father, deliberately,
and got nothing for that disobedience but an ex-
posure to a terrible disease, of which he might die.

When his father came home at night, he felt
almost afraid to look at him in the face. It seemed
as if he must know all about what he had done.

“ Wilson, come here, my son;” he said, in a
serious voice. :

And Wilson went upto him with a sinking
heart.

“ When [ told you, at dinner time, that I did not
wish you to go and see Alfred Barlow,” the father
began, “{ neglected to say, as a reason for denying
your request, that Doctor Ayres had mentioned to
me that little Anna was very sick, with all the
symptoms of a dangerous attack of scarlet fever.
This dreadful disease is thought by many contagious,
and it was for this reason that I denied your
request.”

Wilson said nothing, but he was very unhappy.
A frank confession of his fault arose to his tongue;
but, before he could make it, his heart failed him.
Not that he dreaded his father’s displeasure so much
as the distress his act of disobedience would give
him.

For more than an hour that night, did the un-
happy boy lie awake, after he had retired to bed,
vainly regretting his act of wickedness and folly.
It is said, “of wickedness,” for deliberate acts of
disobedience to parents are wicked. He was like-
930 DISOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

wise troubled, lest he, too, should be attacked with
scarlet fever, and die—and all because be had not
obeyed his father. |

On the next day, when he learned that the
doctor had declared Anna Barlow’s disease to be
really the scarlet fever, and her case a very bad
one, Wilson was more troubled than ever. How
often did he wish that he had been an obedient
boy. But no sorrow could recal the act.

It was several days afterwards, when the boy’s
fears had nearly all subsided, that he awoke one
morning with a violent headache, a sore throat,
and a general uneasiness, with considerable fever.
The day afterwards, his skin became dry and burn-
ing, and his throat so sore that he could swallow
only with great difficulty. On the third day the
physician pronounced the case one of decided
scarletina, or scarlet fever, accompanied by some
very alarming symptoms.

From that time for nearly two weeks the sick
boy was conscious of little more than great bodily
distress. When the fever at last gave way, he
was just upon the brink of the grave. The
slightest neglect on the part of those who attended
him with more than the care that a new-born
infant requires, would have proved fatal. But the
skill of his medical attendant, and the unwearying
care of his parents, were the means of saving his
life. |

About a week after the crisis of the disease had
DISOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 23]

passed, when Wilson could sit up in bed, supported
by pillows, as his father sat by him, he said, ina
penitent voice, while the tears came into his eyes:

“JT have been a very wicked boy, father; and
that is the reason why I have been so sick.”

“ How so, my child?” asked Mr. Green, in sur-
prise.

“ You remember having told me that I could not
go over to see Alfred Barlow, one day when I
asked you. Well, I wanted to go so bad, that I
disobeyed you. I found little Anna Barlow very
sick—so sick that Alfred could not play with me.
As soon as his mother saw-me by Anna’s bed, she
told me to go right away home at once. And so
I did, without having had any of the pleasure, to
gain which, I had done what you had told me not
todo. It was the scarlet fever that Anna had,
and no doubt I took it from her. But I have been
severely punished for what I did.”

“Severely, indeed, my dear boy!” Mr. Green
said, wiping a tear that came to hiseye. “But
not too severely, if it prove the means of restrain-
ing you from ever doing so wrong an act in
future. To disobey your parents, is to do yourself
one of the worst of injuries. For if, in early years,
you are not cbedient to your parents, you will not
be truly obedient to just laws when you grow up
to be a man; nor, above all, obedient to Gop.
And if not obedient to Him, you never can be

i
232 pISsOBEDIENCE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

happy. It is not from any selfish desire to com-
mand your obedience, that I forbid your doing
certain things at times. I have only your good at
heart. I know, much better than you can pos-.
sibly know, the evil that you ought to shun—and
much better than you can know, the good effects
which will be produced in your mind by obedience.
But I need not, I trust, say more now. You have
had a practical lesson that you can never for-
get, and which will, I am sure, have upon you a
most salutary influence.”

“Indeed, father, I can never forget it,” Wilson
replied, with much feeling. “ No one knows how
much I have suffered, in mind as well as body, for
my faults. From the hour I disobeyed you until
this moment, I have been unhappy. And I ke-
lieve, until I had told you all, I should never again
have been happy.”

« Repentance and confession are the only means
of obtaining peace after a wrong act,” the father
said. |


233

THE GAME OF WEATHERCOCKS.

TE company arrange themselves, and give to the
four corners of the room, or the part of the park
where they are playing, the names of the four
cardinal points. To avoid disputes, it is best to
place the words, east, west, north, south, in writing,
at the points agreed upon. One of the players,
and it should be a lively, gay person, accustomed
to the game, takes the part of Eonus. All the
other players arrange themselves in one or more
rows. When it is possible, a lady should have a
gentleman on each side, and a gentleman, a lady.
After having ordered silence, Eolus points to one
of the corners designated by name, it is no matter
which, and from which he means to have the wind
blow. When the god of the winds points one
way, the company must all turn in the opposite
direction.

It is a party of weaTHERCOcKs, and consequently
each one must turn his back upon the wind, to
show which way it blows. When Eolus cries
234 THE GAME OF WEATHERCOCKS.

south, everybody faces north, and in the same way
at all the points. When he says tempest, every-
body must whirl round three times, and come back
to the same place. At the word variable, they
must balance them, first on one foot, then on the
other, until the god of the winds names one of the
four points. If he says variable west, then they
vacillate towards the east, but not rapidly, as most
of the motions of the game are made, for the wind
is changeable, and often, as soon as they have
got round to a certain point, Eolus gives a shout
which sends them all round to another.

When the capricious deity is pleased to name a
point directly opposite to the one where the com-
pany is placed, they must all remain motionless.

It may easily be imagined that this opposition of
order and motion, the variety, the multiplicity of
movements, must give occasion for forfeits to be
paid whenever a mistake is made. The game af-
fords a great deal of sport.


JAMES CARTIER.
AN EARLY TRAVELLER IN AMERICA.

JAMEs, or as he is commonly called, Jacques
Cartier, was the first who explored the shores
of Canada to any extent, and the first to discover
the existence of that great river, communicating
between the Atlantic Ocean and the great North
American lakes, the St. Lawrence. The Indians
called the river Holchelega, and told him that they
had never heard of any one who had reached its
source.

Cartier sailed up the river, and anchored his
vessels near the island of Orleans, below the place
where Quebec now stands. It was in the summer
of 1535, when he sailed up the river, and he found
Orleans island nearly covered with loaded grape-
vines, from which circumstance, as well as from the
beauty, variety, and luxuriance of its vegetation, he
named it the Island of Bacchus.



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12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00051.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00051.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00052.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00052.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00053.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00053.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00054.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00054.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00055.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00055.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00056.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00056.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00057.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00057.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00058.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00058.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00059.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:42 PM 00059.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00060.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00060.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00061.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00061.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00062.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00062.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00063.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00063.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00064.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00064.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00065.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00065.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00066.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00066.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00067.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00067.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00068.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00068.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00069.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00069.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00070.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00070.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00071.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00071.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00072.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00072.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00073.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00073.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00074.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00074.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00075.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00075.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00076.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00076.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00077.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00077.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00078.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00078.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00079.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00079.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00080.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00080.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00081.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00081.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00082.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00082.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00083.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00083.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00084.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00084.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00085.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00085.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00086.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00086.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00087.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00087.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00088.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00088.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00089.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00089.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00090.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00090.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00091.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00091.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00092.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00092.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00093.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00093.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00094.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00094.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00095.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00095.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00096.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00096.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00097.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00097.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00098.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00098.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00099.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00099.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00100.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00100.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:43 PM 00101.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00101.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00102.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00102.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00103.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00103.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00104.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00104.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00105.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00105.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00106.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00106.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00107.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00107.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00108.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00108.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00109.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00109.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00110.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00110.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00111.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00111.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00112.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00112.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00113.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00113.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00114.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00114.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00115.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00115.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00116.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00116.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00117.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00117.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00118.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00118.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00119.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00119.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00120.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00120.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00121.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00121.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00122.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00122.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00123.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00123.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00124.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00124.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00125.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00125.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00126.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00126.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00127.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00127.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00128.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00128.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00129.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00129.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00130.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00130.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00131.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00131.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00132.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00132.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00133.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00133.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00134.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00134.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00135.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00135.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00136.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00136.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00137.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00137.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00138.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00138.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00139.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00139.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00140.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00140.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00141.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00141.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00142.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00142.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00143.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:44 PM 00143.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00144.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00144.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00145.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00145.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00146.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00146.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00147.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00147.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00148.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00148.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00149.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00149.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00150.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00150.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00151.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00151.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00152.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00152.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00153.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00153.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00154.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00154.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00155.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00155.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00156.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00156.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00157.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00157.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00158.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00158.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00161.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00161.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00162.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00162.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00163.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00163.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00164.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00164.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00165.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00165.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00166.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00166.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00167.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00167.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00168.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00168.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00169.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00169.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00170.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00170.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00171.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00171.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00172.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00172.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00173.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00173.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00174.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00174.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00175.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00175.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00176.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00176.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00177.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00177.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00178.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00178.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00179.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00179.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00180.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00180.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00181.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00181.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00182.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00182.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00183.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00183.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00184.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00184.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00185.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00185.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00186.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00186.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00187.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:45 PM 00187.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00188.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00188.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00189.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00189.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00190.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00190.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00191.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00191.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00192.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00192.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00193.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00193.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00194.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00194.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00195.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00195.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00195a.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00195a.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00196.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00196.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00197.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00197.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00198.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00198.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00199.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00199.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00200.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00200.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00201.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00201.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00202.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00202.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00203.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00203.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00204.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00204.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00205.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00205.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00206.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00206.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00207.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00207.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00208.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00208.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00209.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00209.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00210.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00210.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00211.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00211.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00212.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00212.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00213.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00213.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00214.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00214.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00215.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00215.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00216.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00216.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00217.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00217.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00218.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00218.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00219.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00219.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00220.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00220.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00221.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00221.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00222.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00222.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00223.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00223.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00224.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00224.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:46 PM 00225.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00225.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00226.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00226.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00227.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00227.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00228.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00228.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00229.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00229.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00230.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00230.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00231.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00231.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00232.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM 00232.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:02:47 PM