Citation
Little gems for boys and girls

Material Information

Title:
Little gems for boys and girls
Series Title:
Series for youth
Creator:
Schell, Francis H., 1834-1909 ( Engraver )
Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. (Old School) -- Board of Publication ( Publisher )
T. Sinclair & Son ( Lithographer )
Place of Publication:
Philadelphia
Publisher:
Presbyterian Board of Publication
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1863
Language:
English
Physical Description:
216 p., [3] leaves of plates : ill., (some col.) ; 16 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1863 ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1863 ( local )
Bldn -- 1863
Genre:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) ( local )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Illustrations engraved and signed by Schell.
General Note:
Frontispiece chromolithographed by T. Sinclair's lith.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
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:
AAA8197 ( LTQF )
ALG7825 ( NOTIS )
11194453 ( OCLC )
026720674 ( AlephBibNum )

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FEEDING THE SWANS. PAGE 17.



LITTLE GEMS

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

PHILADELPHIA :
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
NO, 821 CHESTNUT STREET,






CHAPTER

I.

II.
III.
IV.
Vv.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.

XI.
XII.
XITI.

XIy.

CONTENTS.

Pack

The Secret, 6
Feeding the Swans, 17
Will Winslow, 22
God’s Little Child, 29
The Little Pilgrim, 41
The Pearl Merchant, 59
The First Commandment with Promise. 66
Jem, the Sailor Boy, 74
The Lighthouse-Keeper’s Daughter, 84
. Three Stains, 93
Tell the Truth, 102
Sophie’s Victory, 115
The Two Dimes, 128
Selfishness and Kindness, .. 184



4

CHAPTER

KV.

XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
xX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
Robert Douglas’s Revenge, 148
The News Boy, 150
Always do Right, 159
Lost and Found, 166
Afraid of the Dark, 176
Faith, 184
Jack Miller, 190
The Child and the Infidel, 195
Little Sins, 202
The Law of Love, 206

The Little Travellers to the Land of
Light, 212



LITTLE GEMS.

THE SECRET.

“ Here, boys, are twenty shillings for each
of you,” said Mr. Mitchell’ to his twin sons,
Clarence and Edward, on a bright winter
morning, as they sat at breakfast. He handed
them each a gold piece. ‘I hear that you
are at the head of your classes in French and
Latin, and this is to express my satisfaction
at your progress. You are at liberty, of
course, to expend it as you please; but there
is an art inspending money. It may be done
selfishly, or disinterestedly ; it may be pro-
ductive of happiness, or of bitter memories ;
and though the sum be small, how to spend
it is worth learning.”’

“Tell us something about it, father,” said
Clarence, after they had both thanked him

1* 5



6 LITTLE GEMS.

cordially. ‘* Which way do you think
best ?”’

“I would rather, my son, that you should
reflect upon the subject, and draw your own
conclusions. Watch for an opportunity to
do with it something which your heart ap-
proves. The love of money, you know, is
called ‘the root of evil;’ but money may
be made the source of good. Use it as you
think best.” *

The boys looked very thoughtful. They
wished that he would only say what he
thought best. Then they appealed to their
mother; but she approved of their father’s
decision, to throw the responsibility on them-
selves, and call their own judgment into ex-
ercise.

Some days afterward, as the two boys were
in their father’s library, he said to them,
“You have not told me how you spent your
gold pieces.”

Edward drew his from his pocket. ‘There
it is, father. I have not spent it yet.”

“ And yours, Clarence ?”



THE SECRET. 7

“Tt has all gone, father.”

“Indeed! and what have you to show for
it?”

“Nothing, sir.” Clarence bent his head
modestly, but without shame; and there was
a manliness in his tone, which convinced his
father that all was right.

“Nothing! Well, that may be; but I will
venture to say, my boy has not made an un-
profitable investment.”

“T hope not, sir.””

“Tf he had done wrong with it, he would
not be my Clarence,” said the mother ten-
derly.

Clarence looked at her with an expression
of deep feeling, then went to her silently,
put his arms affectionately about her neck,
and laid his head upon her shoulder. When
he raised it again, a tear lay upon her robe.

“My darling boy,”’—she embraced him
tenderly. ‘The secret is yours. You have
a right to it; and I am sure, it is an honour-
able one.”

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered in her



8 LITTLE GEMS.

ear. ‘Does father think so? Is he satis-
fied 2”

His mother repeated his question.

“To be sure, my son. I am satisfied.
Come here,” and he threw his arms around
him, and laid his head upon his bosom. “ Fa-
ther will trust, where he has never had cause
to distrust.”

Clarence could only once more whisper his
thanks. It was tenderness, not grief, that
caused his tears. He was a type of all that
is noble and generous in boyhood. Had he
been otherwise; had he expended his gift in
folly, or in vice, no reproaches that could
have been uttered, would have affected him,
or called him to bitter repentance, like the
confidence which was reposed in him, and the
tenderness which had just been manifested.
To prove himself worthy of that love and
confidence, would henceforth be his highest
earthly ambition. Oh! that all parents would
but understand this! and appealing to the
higher nature, the nobler attributes of their
children, call them into exercise.



THE SECRET. 9

Edward wished from his heart, that his bro-
ther would reveal to him what he had done;
but there was a code of honour in that house-
hold, as there should be in every home, and
it was understood by all its members. Clar-
ence had shown by his silence that he did not
wish to be questioned. Yet no one for a mo-
ment doubted that he had made a right use
of his money.

And now, although Clarence supposes his
secret to be safe from all, but the eye of his
Father in heaven, we, who have followed him
unseen, and watched him through all, will re-
late it in confidence to our readers.

The day on which he received the gift was
bright, clear, and frosty. It was December,
and though the sun shone cloudlessly in the
blue heavens, it had no power upon the icicles
which fringed the iron railings, or fell from
the trees in showers of brilliants, splintered
and shivered by the wind. The air was
healthful and exhilarating to the well-clad;
but to the poor, unprotected child of want it
came too keenly. Clarence hurried on, with



10 LITTLE GEMS.

his skates flung over his shoulder, to join a
skating-party. It was the vacation now. Ed-
die was to join them later. His hands were
thrust into his coat-pockets, and he pressed
on against the wind, when he felt his arm
seized from behind.

“Quick! Quick! Come quick!” said a
little bare-footed and bareheaded boy, seem-
ingly half frantic with grief and terror.
“T believe mother is dying. Do come
quick !”’

Clarence obeyed impulsively; while the
child clinging to his coat dragged him on.

The home, if such it could be called, was
not far distant; and the scene, which pre-
sented itself on his entrance, was awful in-
deed. A woman, surrounded by three or
four children screaming in terror, was lying
on her miserable bed, in frightful convulsions.
The foam was on her white lips, her clenched
hands seemed fixed in an immovable clasp,
and her aspect was altogether horrible.

“T will go for a doctor,” said Clarence,
and remembering that he had seen a physi-



THE SECRET. 11

cian’s house on his way, he ran with all speed
to summon him.

The doctor followed him immediately ; and
while he was administering to the poor suf-
ferer, Clarence had time to observe the scene
around him. What misery was there! Never
had he seen or conceived anything of the
kind before. The poor mother had toiled,
until over-exertion and starvation had brought
her to her present state. The children were
thin and meagre, only half clad; and no fire
upon the hearth. When they saw his friendly,
earnest face—for children understand well a
look or tone of sympathy—they gathered
around him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, in a low
voice.

“Yes, dreadful hungry.”

“And cold too,” he said; and with a heart
bleeding at the sight of such destitution and
misery, he hurried to a “restaurant” near
by. His gold-piece was now in requisition.
Thank God for its possession !

Hot rolls and hot coffee in abundance soon



12 LITTLE GEMS.

drew the little famished creatures to a corner
of the hovel, where they satisfied their hunger
and hushed their cries.

For a full hour the agony of the poor mo-
ther lasted; then she lay motionless from
utter exhaustion, and finally fell into a pro-
found slumber. A portion of the gold-piece
yet remained, and Clarence tendered to the
doctor the usual fee. A smile stole over the
face of the wealthy doctor 8 , (for it so
happened that one of the first physicians of
the city had, by chance, been summoned,)
but there was a tear in his eye, as he looked
at him earnestly.

“God bless you! my noble little fellow,”
and he laid his hand upon his head. ‘No,
keep your money for other good deeds. But
tell me, who are you?”

Clarence looked up at him and smiled, after
a moment’s pause, “Only my father’s son,
sir.”

“Well, well; you choose to do your good
deeds under a veil, I see; any father should
be proud of such a son. I never saw you be-





THE SECRET. 13

fore; but I think that we shall meet again.
You have a heart, my boy, too large for that
manly little frame.”” He laid his hand kindly
upon his head; shook him warmly by the
hand, and disappeared.

Clarence went also, but returned in an
hour, bringing with him a pair of new shoes
for each of the two eldest children. These
exhausted the money he then had with him;
but his ‘“charity-box” was at home, and on
that fund he determined to draw, in behalf
of the sufferers. While deliberating on what
they needed most, his good intentions
were forestalled by the appearance of the
doctor’s carriage at the door; and the doctor
himself, springing out hastily, took from it
humerous packages of clothing, provisions,
&e., an ample supply for their present wants.

“6 Here,’’ said he, to the eldest girl, a child
of six years, “dress your brothers and sisters
in these clothes; and see if your little hands
cannot make the room comfortable.”

The child’s eyes brightened, for food had

strengthened, and his cheerful tone encour-
2



14 LITTLE GEMS.

aged her. She was at once busily employed.
He smiled cordially as he discovered Clarence,
and said, “I told you that we should meet
again.”

He hastened away to other engagements ;
but a supply of fuel came by his orders im-
mediately after, and Clarence remained to aid
the helpless children; nor did he leave
them, until he saw them warmed and com-
fortable.

The doctor visited the family daily, until
the poor and grateful widow was perfectly
restored, and able again to take care of her
little ones; then his wife provided employ-
ment for her, and she required no further
assistance. One more visit revealed all this
to Clarence; but he and the doctor never
met again.

* * * * * *

Four weeks had passed. Clarence’s good
deed was still his own secret, when his father
encountered Dr. § .

“Mr. Mitchell, what a noble specimen of
humanity you have in that young son of





THE SECRET. 15

yours! I congratulate you on being his
father.”’

“Which one, doctor ?’”’

“Why the dark hair, and the dark eyes.
He does not tell his name.”

“What do you mean, doctor? ‘I hope that
he is not ashamed to own it.”

“Then he has not told you of his recent
encounter with me ?”’

“ Not a word.”

“Ts it possible? Let me tell you, you
have reason to be proud of that boy; he is a
noble little fellow, and God will place him
where he ought to be, in the ranks of true
greatness.”’ Then he related to Mr. Mitchell
every circumstance of that day, connected
with Clarence, delicately withholding his own
part in the proceedings, which did not, how-
ever, remain long a secret.

With a full heart, overflowing with thank-
fulness to God for such a son, Mr. Mitchell
returned to his home that night, and related
all to his wife. As soon as Clarence came in

he took him by the hand. “My son, I know



16 LITTLE GEMS.

the history of the twenty shilling piece.”
Clarence looked up in wonder. “Dr. 8
is an old friend, though we do not meet often.
He would not rest till he had traced you out;
and now, my boy, receive your father’s bless-
ing.” He bent down and kissed his forehead ;
then he led him to his mother.

“There,” said he, ‘‘take to your heart the
noblest son that God ever gave to a mother;
take him, and say, God bless him!”

She did fold him to her heart in silence ;
the mother’s feelings were too deep for words.
Edward came in. “My son, you have done
well in the purchase of your Bible; your bro-
ther has done well in the practice of its pre-
cepts. Emulate his noble example. I am
proud of both.”

Mrs. Mitchell withdrew with Edward into
the library, and there related to him the
story. Scarcely had she concluded it, when
he rushed back, and threw himself, in tears,
upon his brother’s neck. ‘Oh, Clarence!
I must be good, like you.”

Clarence wept. ‘Why, it is but little that





FEEDING THE SWANS. 17

I have done,” he said; “I had everything
that I required; it was no sacrifice.”

“ But you lost the skating-party, Clarence ;
and I know that you wanted a new riding-
whip; you said so, when father was giving us
lessons on Poney, in the vacation.”

“No matter for that,” said Clarence.

“My boy,”’ said his father, “why did you
keep it so secret? Did you not suppose that
we would all approve and commend it ?”

“Yes, father, but I remembered what you
read to us that morning: ‘Take heed that ye
do not your alms before men, to be seen of
them; otherwise, ye have no reward of your
Father which is in heaven.’ ”

FEEDING THE SWANS.

A LITTLE island lay in the middle of a calm
lake. The water of that lake had not always

been calm; no, it had leaped and roared as
9 *



18 LITTLE GEMS.

it dashed down the mountain’s rugged face,
and then danced in the sunshine at its foot;
but now it slept as quietly as the young birds
in that large nest by its side. This nest, formetl
of twigs and reeds, water-plants and long
grass, with a bed of nice soft feathers, was
the home of a family of young swans.

Not far from the lake, a little boy and girl,
called Edwin and Mary Leslie, lived with
their papa and mamma in a pretty country
house almost hidden among trees. Almost
every fine morning when lessons were over,
the children had a walk with their teacher,
who was no other than their own dear mamma;
and the wayside lessons taught them were not
less important than those which had just been
finished in the schoolroom.

“Oh, mamma, it is ever so long since we
saw the swans,” said Mary, as they passed
through the hall; “‘may we go down this
morning to the lake and look at them?”

“Tam quite willing to go with you, Mary;
but run back for your little basket, and ask
Ellen to cut a piece of bread, that you and



FEEDING THE SWANS. 19

Edwin may feed them, if they are so good as
to come near us.”

Basket and bread were soon found, and a
very few minutes’ walking brought the little
party to the water’s edge. The delight of
the children was great, when they saw their
old friend, the large white swan, which they
used to call Snowflake, sailing across the lake,
followed by two little cygnets, or young swans.
Edwin’s rosy face grew brighter than ever, as
he grasped his mother’s hand, crying, “‘ Who
ever saw such little beauties! I must have
one of them for my own, and Mary can have
the other. We shall carry them home, and
let them run about the garden.”

Mary laughed at her brother’s words and
said, “Oh, Edwin! you forget that the little
swaps would not be happy in the garden; we
must leave them here, but we can come down
every day to see them, and bring them a little
bread. Look how glad Snowflake is to get
it. Beautiful Snowflake! I love you very
much. Shall we sit a little time under this
tree, mamma, and watch the swans ?”’



20 LITTLE GEMS.

“JT think Snowflake ought to thank us for
the bread,” said Edwin, as he seated himself
on the grass by his mother’s side; “if she
cannot talk she might sing us a song.”

“There was a time,” said Mrs. Leslie,
“when people believed that the swan was able
to sing, especially when it was dying; but,
as we now never have any specimen of its
musical talent, there is reason to suppose
that the accounts of its fine voice were only
fables. The tame swan is the most silent of
birds, and the wild one utters only harsh
sounds.”

“Mamma, was there ever a black swan?”
asked Edwin.

“Yes, indeed, dear, though for hundreds
of years the finding of such a bird was not
thought +o be likely. Among the many
strange things discovered in Australia, the
black swan is not the least interesting. “It is
much smaller than its Kuropean cousin, and
of quite a jet hue, except a few of its quill
feathers, which are white. There were some
laws made about swans in England long ago.



FEEDING THE SWANS. 21

At one time they were highly valued as food,
and a man was sent to prison for a year and
a day, with such a fine as the king thought
fit, if he were found stealing one of its eggs.”

“T am glad that swans are not eaten in
England now,” cried Edwin; “how sad it
would be to kill our beautiful Snowflake!
But, mamma, do not swans live a long time ?”’

“T have read of some which lived thirty,
or even forty years, and I know that our old
friend here sailed about the lake many a day
before my little boy was born.”

“Just look, mamma,” cried Mary, “ what
care that good bird takes of the little cyg-
nets; see, she is leading them back to the
island. How kind she is to them !”

“Yes, dear, and the tenderness planted by
God in the breast of that parent bird is only
a faint shadow of his own great love to his
children. Oh, what good things he has laid
up for them—blessings in providence and
blessings in grace! But see, papa is coming
down the walk to call us; take your hoop,
Edwin, and run to meet him.”



WILL WINSLOW. 23

“Shame on you, Will!” said Charles Mans-
field, “to laugh at her misfortunes! I heard
my grandmother say, that she became a crip-
ple by lifting her idiot son, and tending him
night and day.”

“T don’t care what made her so,’’ said
Will, “but I wouldn’t stay in the world if I
was such a looking thing as that. Do look!”

“Shame! shame on you!” said Charles,
and “Shame! Shame!’’ echoed from each of
the boys present. ‘You may get your own
back broken one of these days—who knows ?””

To show their sympathy, several of them
sprang forward to aid the poor woman; but
Charles Mansfield, the oldest, and always an
example of nobleness and generosity, was the
first. “ Let me get the water for you, ma’am,”
and he gently took the bucket from her
hand.

Her voice was tremulous and tearful, as
she said, “Thank you, my dear boy. God
grant that you may never suffer from such
infirmities !””

“Tf I should,” said Charles, kindly, “it



22 LITTLE GEMS.

WILL WINSLOW.

WILL WINsLow was the worst boy in the
village; his father’s indulgence had spoiled
him. “Don’t check the boy,” he would say
to his mother, “you will crush all the man-
hood in him.’”” And.so he grew up the terror
of the neighbours. The old, the infirm, and
the crippled, were the special objects of his
vicious merriment. One poor woman, bent
by age and infirmities, he assailed with his
ridicule, as she daily went out upon her crutch,
to draw water from the well near her house,
and just within the play-ground of the school-
house. ‘Only look at her,’’ he would say,
“isn’t she the letter S now, with an extra
crook in it?” and his cruel laugh, as he fol-
lowed closely behind, mocking and mimicking
her, called forth from her no rebuke. One
day, however, she turned, and looking at him
reproachfully, said, ‘‘Go home, child, and
read the story of Elisha and the two bears
out of the wood.”



24 LITTLE GEMS.

would be the duty, and it ought to be the
pleasure of young people to assist me. One
of us will bring you water every day, so you
need not come for it.’’ ‘Yes, so we will,”
was echoed from lip to lip.

“God bless you! God bless you all!’
She wiped away her tears, and entered her
poor and lonely home.

Will Winslow was reported to the master,
and was sentenced to study during the usual
recess for a week to come. The punishment
was hard, for he loved play better than his
books; but how slight, in comparison with
the retribution which awaited him.

It was the second day of his confinement,
and he sat near the open window, watching
the sports of the boys in the play-ground.
Suddenly—when the master was absorbed in
his occupations, he leaped into the midst of
them, with a shout at his achievement. ‘Now
let him punish me again, if he can!’’ and he
ran backward, throwing up his arms, and
shouting in defiance, when—his voice suddenly
ceased; there was a heavy plunge, and a hor-



WILL WINSLOW. 25

rible groan broke on the ears of his bewil
dered companions.

Now it so happened, that the well, of which
we have before spoken, was undergoing re-
pairs, and the workmen were then at a dis-
tance, collecting their materials. Carelessly
the well was left uncovered, and at the very
moment of his triumph, Will Winslow was
precipitated backward into the opening. A
cry of horror burst from the assembled boys,
who rushed to the spot, and Charles Mans-
field, the bravest of them all, was the first to
seize the well-rope, tie it around his waist and
descend to the rescue. The well was deep;
fortunately, however, the water at the time
was mostly exhausted, but Will lay motion-
less at the bottom. Carefully he lifted him,
and with one arm around his apparently life-
less form, and the other upon the rope, he
gave the signal, and was slowly drawn to the
top. The livid face of the wicked boy filled
his companions with a supernatural horror;
and in perfect silence, they bore him to the
house of the poor woman, which was close at

8



26 LITTLE GEMS.

hand. She had witnessed the accident from
her window, and upon her crutch hastened to
meet them. And now Will Winslow was in
the humble home, and upon the lowly bed of
her whom he had assailed with cruelty and
scorn; and faithfully she obeyed the com-
mandment of Him who said: “Do good to
them that hate you, and pray for them which
despitefully use you and persecute you.”
Silently her prayers ascended to God for the
sufferer. Her little vials of camphor and
other restoratives, provided by charitable
neighbours, were emptied for his relief. She
took from her scanty store bandages for his
head, which was shockingly mangled and
bleeding ; and she herself, forgetful of all but
his sufferings, sat down and tenderly bathed
his hands and his forehead, while some of the
boys ran for a surgeon, and others for the
master. The injury to the head was sup-
posed to be the only one he had sustained;
and after the surgeon had done his work, the
poor boy was borne away on a litter, to his
home, still insensible, and surrounded by his



WILL WINSLOW. 27

companions mute with emotion. That day
was destined to make an impression upon the
School, its master, and all who heard of the
awful catastrophe, so manifestly was it a
judgment from God.

A few hours later, and groups of boys col-
lected in the play-ground. Their conversa-
tion was in whispers; horror sat upon every
face; all were pale and awe-stricken. Charles
Mansfield approached. ‘How is poor Will,
now? have any of you heard?”

“Oh! Charlie,” several exclaimed at once,
as they gathered around him.

“Qh! don’t you know? haven’t you heard?
Why he has opened his eyes and is able to
speak, but his back is broken.”

Charles clasped his hands, lifted them high
in the air and uttered not a word, but burst
into tears. For a few minutes he yielded to
his emotion, and then, still pale and grief-
stricken, but with a manly voice, he said to
his companions:

“Boys, shall we ever forget the lesson of
this day ?”



28 LITTLE GEMS.

And Will,—words would be feeble to por-
tray his agony of body and mind, as he lay
for long months upon his bed of suffering, but
when he arose therefrom, with a feeble and
distorted body, and a scar like the mark of
Cain upon his forehead, he was changed in
heart also, crushed in spirit, humble and con-
trite. Repentance had had its perfect work,
and when he became convalescent and his
school-mates came to congratulate him on his
recovery, he threw his arms around the neck
of each, and burst into tears, but could
not speak, except to whisper, “ Forgive—for-
give.”

At his request the poor woman became the
tenant, rent free, of a cottage belonging to
his father; and his mother constantly admin-
istered to her wants. As soon as he could do
so, he wrote to her, humbly pleading for for-
giveness; and in return she gave to him her
blessing. From this time, one half of his
ample quarterly allowance was bestowed upon
her; he visited her in her loneliness, and at
last’ made his peace with God, declaring his



“gop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 29

punishment just—henceforth to be a cripple
and a hunchback !

Youthful readers, let the history of Will
Winslow impress your hearts. Revere the
aged, whether they be in poverty or affluence,
and feel it a privilege to administer to them
in their infirmities, as they have done to you,
in the weakness and helplessness of infancy.
It is the only recompense which youth can
make to age, and God will bless the youthful
heart which bows down in reverence before
the hoary head.

“GOD’S LITTLE CHILD.”

THE day was just breaking, when the post-
coach from Strasburg drove into Paris, and
the passengers, yawning and stretching, ex-
pressed their joy in different ways. ‘“ Well,”
said one man, “ Paris at last !’’

“Ts this Paris ?”’ asked a-sweet little voice

from one corner. Every one turned to look,
3%



80 LITTLE GEMS.

and there sat a pretty little creature of six
years old, with a bright, fresh face, soft blue
eyes, and golden curls clustering about her
head.

“ What a dear little creature!” “ What a
pretty child!” ‘ What a little angel!” Such
were their delighted exclamations.

“ Are you all alone, little one ?’’ asked one.

“Yes, all alone,”’ replied the child, with a
bright smile. ‘In Strasburg mamma took
me to the stage-house, and the conductor pro-
mised to take me safely to Paris. And he
has kept his word, for here lam. Mamma
said God would take care of me, for I’m his
child, you see; she gave me to him as soon
as ever I was born.”

In a few moments every one was busy with
his own affairs, and forgot the child. The
conductor placed her on one side, and told
her to wait patiently until he got through,
and then he would take her to her uncle.

She obeyed, and waited until the last pas-
senger was gone. Then the man came to-
wards her and said, ‘“‘ Now, little one, let’s



“qoD’s LITTLE CHILD.” 81

have the letter. I have just had orders to go
on with another coach to Lyons; so I can’t
go with you to your uncle; but I will give you
toa kind, trustworthy man. So, the letter;
quick, the letter !’’

“Oh! yes; here it is!’ and she put her
hand in her pocket, then drew it out, and
looked confounded. ‘It’s gone! I put it
here last night, and it’s gone! It must have
fallen on the floor of the coach !”

“You don’t mean that!” said the man;
“and the coach is half way back to Stras-
burg by this time. But tell me your uncle’s
name; I have but five minutes ; indeed, there
comes my coach now! Quick—your uncle’s
name !”’

“T don’t know it,” said the child; “it was
on the letter, but that’s lost!”

All this time the coach was approaching.
It distressed the man to leave a child like that
alone in Paris; but he said his situation de-
pended on his going; he dared not even de-
tain the vehicle two minutes. ‘God help

y

you, poor little one!” he murmured, sprang



32 LITTLE GEMS.

into the coach, and rattled off. The child im-
plored him wildly not to leave her alone, but
he dared not stay.

Sitting down again upon the bench, she
cried at first bitterly; but suddenly a new
thought entered her mind. “I will go back
to mamma,” said she, and getting up, she
went up to a person whom, by his uniform,
she knew to be the superintendent of the line.

“Tf you please, sir,” said she, “I want to
go to Strasburg; will you ask some of the
conductors to take me?”

“You to Strasburg? What for, you little
monkey ?”’ was the reply.

“‘T want to go back to mamma, sir, if you
please. Do let one of them take me.”

“Very well, but I suppose you have
money ?”

* Oh, yes, two frances ;” and the child looked
quite delighted. “I shan’t want to eat and
drink more than that will buy.”

‘You little fool, I mean to pay your pas-
sage. Is two francs all you’ve got?”

“Not a bit more, sir; but do let them take



““gop’S LITTLE CHILD.”’ 33

me; I won’t take up a bit of room. Tl
squeeze away in the corner, or I'll creep under
the seat; only take me back to mamma!”

With a harsh voice and brutal words the
man drove the trembling child from the place,
and bade her “ go off.”’

“T don’t know where to go,” said she; “I
don’t know any one in Paris, and mamma's
in Strasburg,” and she sat down again and
sobbed aloud.

“None of your howling there, I tell you!
Go along and beg, if you can’t do anything
else,’’ and again he drove her off. The poor
child walked away, she neither knew nor
cared where; she was only thinking how to
get back to Strasburg. At last, overcome
with hunger and fatigue, she sat down on a
stone and began to cry bitterly. The streets
were full of people, and ail who passed looked
round at her, but no one spoke to her, until
there came by a boy of about twelve years
old, leading a donkey, to which was fastened
a wagon loaded with coal.

“Coals! coals! very cheap!”’ cried the lit-



34 LITTLE GEMS.

tle merchant; then, seeing the weeping child,
he stopped, and demanded what was the
matter. °

In a few simple words she told her story.

“So, you see,” said she, “since I can’t
find my uncle, I must go back to Strasburg.”

“Tell me your uncle’s name, dear. I'll
find him for you,” said the boy.

“Oh! if I only knew it myself. It was on
the letter, but that’s lost. I wish God would
take care of me, as mamma said he would, for
I'm his little child!’ and she sobbed afresh.

“Don’t ery, little girl, Tell me what your
name is.”

‘*My name’s Madeleine,” said the child,
“and mamma lives in Strasburg. Oh! I wish
I had stayed with her and not come to Paris !”

‘“‘Madeleine is a very pretty name,” said
the boy. ‘‘Mine’s Pierre, and my mamma is
called Madame Thierry. But come home
with me; she is very, very good, and will
take care of you, and we'll send back to
Strasburg for another letter.”

Delighted at this idea, little Madeleine



“qop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 35

dried her tears, and gladly allowed Pierre to
lift her up on the top of the load of coal,
over which he first spread his coat, and, chat-
ting merrily, they soon reached the humble
cottage of Madame Thierry.

The kind woman gladly undertook the care
of the little stranger, and the next day Pierre
went to the stage-office to meet the Strasburg
coach and ask about the letter. The driver
did not know the child’s mother. The con-
ductor did, but had not yet returned from
Lyons; so they must wait.

Meantime, one day there came a terrible
storm; even Pierre could not go abroad; it
was fearful. To while away the time, the
children got around Madame Thierry, and
begged from her a story of “old times,” as
they called it.

“Well,” said she, “I'll tell you one that
troubles me yet. Now listen:

“You have heard of the dreadful times
called ‘the Revolution.’ Some unkind actions
of the King and his nobles to the people made
them yery angry, and some wicked men took



36 LITTLE GEMS.

advantage of it. They told them that kings
had no more right to be rich than they had,
and persuaded them that it would be a most
excellent thing to kill all who were rich, and
share their money among those who were not.
By this kind of talk they worked upon them
to such an extent that the people acted as if
they were crazy, and imprisoned and killed
every rich man they could find—the good as
well as the bad. Now, at this time I was
living as nursery-maid with a fine old noble-
man, the Count St. Foie. His family was a
wife and one little daughter—both as sweet
and lovely as they could be. ‘They were all
always doing good, and a poor man, whom
they had greatly helped, gave them notice of
the outbreak in time to enable them to send
away to a safe place a great deal of their
money.

“The Count and Countess, however, were
both afterwards taken and killed, and their
last words to me were: ‘Jenny, save Marion!’

“Marion was their little daughter, then
twelve years old. Her governess, at the first



“‘gop’S LITTLE CHILD.” 37

alarm, had thrown into a valise some of the
child’s clothes, and all the money and jewels
she could find. With these I succeeded in
getting away with her to the poor man’s hut
—the one who had given notice to the Count
—and there we disguised ourselves before
going farther. Then we made our way to
the river, where Thomas, to whom I was soon
to be married, was waiting with a boat. I
got her to Lyons, and put her in the care of
a former housekeeper of the Count’s, and one
I knew to be devoted to him. There I left
her, and went back to see if I could save any-
thing more.

“Dreadful, dreadful sights did I see there!
But at last things became quiet, and matters
had been going on smoothly for some years,
when one day I had a call from a visitor. An
elegant-looking officer came to see me, (I was
nursing Pierre then,) and said he was the
Count Narbonne, the young brother of Ma-
rion’s mother, and when the Revolution broke
out had been in Spain. Here he had been
so fortunate as to do the king many services,

4



38 LITTLE GEMS.

and he, in return, had not only richly re-
warded him, but obliged the French Govern-
ment to give him back the property the Re-
volutionists had taken from the family. He
was only just come home, and wished to find
his sister’s child. &

“T told him where I had left her, and he
went to see about her; but all he could learn
was that she had married a young officer, the
orphan son of one of the Count’s old friends.
He stood high in the German army, but was
not rich, and had taken her to Germany,
where his regiment was. Since that the old
woman said she had heard that the young
officer had been killed, and that Marion
and a little daughter were living in Stras-
burg.

“The Count went there, but could not find
her; then he came here, and left word where
I should send to him if I heard more of her.
But I have never heard a word,” said the
worthy woman, with tears in her eyes. ‘Dear
Miss Marion, how I would love to see her and
her little one! Her uncle comes every now



“Gop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 39

and then to ask, and has all her property
safe for her; but *

Here she was interrupted by a faint knock
at the door. She rose in haste to open it,
and a young but miserable woman, drenched
with the storm and exhausted by hunger and
fatigue, fell, fainting, across the door. Gently
lifting and taking her towards the fire, she
opened her eyes and spoke, and the next mo-
ment, with a shriek of joy, little Madeleine
was hanging round her neck. It was her
mother! The sight and voice of the child
revived her even more than the warmth and
shelter, When she had eaten and been
strengthened by a glass of warm tea, she told
the story of her fears and sufferings. She
had gone to the coach-office to inquire if her
child had reached Paris safely, and while
there, the letter was found in the coach. A
passenger by another coach told, in her hear-
ing, of the brutal conduct of the superinten-
dent to a beautiful child who seemed alone
and friendless, and from his description she
knew at once that it was Madeleine.





40 LITTLE GEMS.

Without a cent in the world, or the means
of getting one, (for she had sold her last ring
to pay her child’s passage-money,) she set out
on foot. After getting to Paris and finding
no tidings of the child at the office, she walked
on, inquiring of all she met for her; but in
vain. At last, overcome by want and fatigue,
and unable any longer to breast the storm,
she lay down to die, and was praying for her
child, when a woman, in passing, stopped and
spoke to her. From her she learned that
Madame Thierry had taken in a little stranger,
and hope gave her strength to go a little
farther.

After resting, she began to tell the good
woman the story of her life; but hardly had
she said a dozen words, when her hostess
jumped up, exclaiming: ‘‘Miss Marion! dear,
dear Miss Marion!’ It was indeed Marion,
and, leaving them together, Pierre slipped
out, and soon returned with the Count de
Narbonne.

The rest may be imagined. Restored to
wealth, Jenny and her son were placed in im-



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 41

portant situations in their household, and
always treated as old and dear friends. Lit-
tle Madeleine often whispered, when she felt
uncommonly happy; “Mamma, I’m so glad
I was God’s little child! Hasn’t he taken
good care of me?”

THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE only youthful inmate of a large, old
fashioned house, in an ancient town, in the
very centre of Old England, was Maria
Walker. She lived with her grandmother
and two maiden aunts, whom she would have
called very old indeed, though they by no
means were of the same opinion.

She was, however, a very happy child,
though she durst not make any noise except
in her own play-room at the top of the house.
Of course she had her troubles like all other

little girls, even those whose voices are never
4 *



42 LITTLE GEMS.

checked; and she used to get into sad scrapes
sometimes; but then she used to get out of
them, and she was neither perplexed by re-
grets for the past nor fears for the future.
The very first serious difficulty Maria could
recollect finding herself in, occurred one day
when grandmother and both aunts were gone
out to dinner; an event of very rare occur-
rence, and of momentous interest in the family.
Both aunts had some scruples about the pro-
priety of leaving Maria so very long alone,
for company dinners at Oldtown were cele-
brated at two o’clock; but as neither of them
seemed for a moment to contemplate the pos-
sibility of staying at home to take care of her,
their anxieties assumed the form of strict
injunctions to Mrs. Martha, the housekeeper,
on no account to let her go out of her sight.
Maria was in general a very good little
girl, and if she had been allowed to have her
childish curiosity reasonably gratified, the
desire that filled her mind would have had no
place there. But Aunt Charlotte so invari-
ably insisted that little girls were never al-



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 43

lowed to ask questions, for that when they
grew up they would know everything that
was good for them to know; and she had very
recently smarted so severely under the laugh-
ter of her aunts, when she had asked if rivers
had teeth as well as mouths, that she resolved
she would ask no questions, but try to find out
for herself what at present she so much wished
to know.

Maria’s education had been far from ne-
glected. She could read very well—had be-
gun to learn to write, and had received les-
sons in geography and history, though, from
the dry, tedious manner in which they were
administered, her ideas of time and space
were very confused. She had formed a theory
of her own, that all celebrated persons of dif-
ferent countries, whose names began with the
same sound, were cotemporaries ; that, for in-
stance, Queen Anne and Hannibal, Queen
Mary and Marius, Brutus and Bruce the
traveller, might have known each other if
they had but lived near enough. Her ideas
of geography were not much less vague, as



44 LITTLE GEMS.

may be inferred from the fact, that she be-
lieved certain mounds in the churchyard to
be really what Mrs. Martha asserted them to
be, the graves of the infants slaughtered by
Herod. Her grandmother told all her friends
what very great pains she took to give Maria
good principles. Her lectures on these points
might all be reduced to four heads, namely:
to put everything in its proper place, to do
everything in its proper time, to be genteel,
and hate the French.

It will not be surprising that, with such
training, the perusal of the Pilgrim’s Pro-
gress, a copy of which had recently been pre-
sented to her, gave an entirely new bias to
her thoughts. Sorely puzzled was she to
guess how much of it might be true, when,
one day, as they were riding out in the car-
riage, she saw at a little distance from the
road a very handsome house. On some one
asking the name of it, she did not hear the
answer distinctly, but was quite sure she
heard the word Beautiful, and as they im-
mediately began to descend a hill, she at once



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 45

concluded that it was the palace Beautiful,
and that the hill was the hill Difficulty. One
great point was now ascertained, that there
were really such places; but she began to
be sorely distressed when it occurred to her
that they were travelling in the wrong direc-
tion from what they ought to be going.

Oldtown was a place where fewer changes
occurred than in more populous and modern
places, and Maria scarcely recollected ever to
have heard of any one’s leaving it. Certainly
she had never heard of any one going on a
pilgrimage ; and she wondered very much how
her aunts, who had told her the Pilgrim’s
Progress was so very good a book, should
have read it without thinking it necessary to
take the advice it conveyed.

The rector of the parish happened to call
the very next day at Mrs. Walker’s, and as
he was going away, inquired so kindly after
the little girl, that she was called in from the
garden to see him. He asked what book it
was she was reading, and when she said it
was the Pilgrim’s Progress, he stroked her



46 LITTLE GEMS.

head, and said he hoped she would not delay
setting out on her pilgrimage till she was as
old as Christian, adding that a youthful pil-
grim was the most interesting object he knew.
This last observation was addressed to her
aunts, who assented to it, as they did to
everything Mr. Roberts said, and it confirmed
the resolution Maria had already taken, of
setting out alone. The day she fixed upon
was the one in which her grandmother and
aunts went to the dinner party.

The housekeeper suffered her to amuse her-
self in the garden, while she entertained some
friends. She thus slipped away unperceived.
She was soon missed, and Mrs. Martha and
her guests spent the afternoon in the greatest
distress, searching all over the fields and for-
ests in the neighbourhood. When the ladies
came home, they were terribly alarmed for
poor Maria. They blamed the housekeeper,
reflected on their own imprudence, and mourned
over the poor girl’s rashness. A boy soon
brought a little shoe which had belonged to
Maria, but he could not tell where it was



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 41

found. Many tears were shed over it that
night, which was a time of mourning for the
poor lost girl.

But it is time that we should return to
Maria. When she made up her mind to set
out, it was a distressing thought to her that
she knew not the direction in which to turn
for the purpose of finding the path which she
was to pursue, and she was determined to ask
no one by the way, for fear of encountering
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. The road by which
they came in the carriage, she knew, did not
bring them through the Wicket Gate. She
concluded, therefore, that there must be some
different route through the fields to the foot
of the hill Difficulty, which she could distinctly
sce from the garden; so she resolved to make
her way through the fields for the chance of
finding it; but should she not succeed in get-
ting there by the right path, she would at any
rate get there; and when she reached the
porter’s lodge, at the gate of the palace, she
would there ask them to take her back to the
beginning of the path, which she was sure



48 LITTLE GEMB.

some of them would do. She set out, then,
expecting every moment to hear her name
called from behind her; for she remem-
bered that Christian’s friends were clamorous
that he should return, and she naturally sup-
posed hers might be so too; but she was
firmly resolved to pursue the same course that
he did, and put her fingers in her ears, that
she might not hear.

She had her misgivings, certainly, as to
the propriety of leaving home, but then she
thought Mr. Roberts had so distinctly recom-
mended her journey, that her aunts could not
blame her very much, particularly as it had
not escaped her observation how cordially
they had agreed with him as to the necessity
of it; and they had so often on a Sunday
evening exhorted her to do, during the week,
all that Mr. Roberts had enforced in his ser-
mons, that she thought, or tried to think, that
for once they would have no cause to com-
plain. She scrambled over or through seve-
ral hedges, without seeing anything at all like
a path through the fields; she still fancied



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 49

she was gaining upon the hill, and she thought
if she reached the palace they would allow
her to sleep there, although she had not come
in by the Wicket Gate, since she really wished
to go through it; and she amused herself by
wondering whether she should sleep in the
same room where Christian had slept, and
whether they would give her any armour, or
whether it was only worn by men pilgrims.

She was interrupted in her reverie by see-
ing a number of cows running, as she feared,
towards her; so she began to run too, and it
was not till she had climbed the gate into the
next field that she missed one of her shoes,
which had fallen off in her rapid flight—that
same shoe which caused so much lamentation
at home. She durst not go back to look for
it, as a dog was still chasing the cows; but
she thought she could manage to walk without
it, as the grass was so very soft, and she was
sure either Prudence, Piety, or Charity would
give her a new one.

At last she reached the high road, and be-

gan to ascend the hill. By this time she was
5



50 LITTLE GEMS.

very tired, very sleepy, and very hungry; but
she remembered Christian had felt sleepy here
also; and she resolved, however tired, not to
sleep in the arbour, for which, however, she
looked in vain, and concluded it had been
pulled down; she could not help feeling very
glad of it, as with her tired little limbs it cer-
tainly would have been very difficult to resist
the temptation.

She was very much shocked to see how
nany people were coming down the hill, and
that no one but herself was ascending it. At
length she saw two tall, big men, apparently
running a race down, and her little heart beat
more rapidly as she thought how very awful
the lions must look; for if these were not
Timorous and Mistrust themselves, she did
not for a moment doubt that they were terri-
fied in the same manner.

She had not seen any lions the day they
passed in the carriage, and she had sometimes
almost ventured to hope that they no longer
existed; but how the poor little thing trem-
bled when, on reaching the bend of the road,



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 51

where it swept off to the lodge she had before
seen, there appeared, reposing under the shade
of two fine beech trees, two enormous lions!
Maria was no great naturalist, or she would
have perceived at once that they were made
of stone; but she never for a moment doubted
that they were really the lions! She stood
gazing and trembling for some time, continu-
ally repeating, ‘ The lions were chained, but
he saw not the chains;’’ and then, summoning
up all her courage, she ran swiftly between
them, passed through the gate, and knocked
with all her might at the door of the lodge.

It was opened by a tall, good-looking man;
and Maria, awestruck at beholding at length
one of the individuals of whom she had
thought so much, dropped a courtesy, and
said, “If you please, sir, are you Watchful?”

“Why, Miss, as to that,’ said the man,
smiling good-humouredly, “I hopes I be;
what did you please to want ?”’

“JT want Discretion, if you please, sir,”
replied Maria.

“T say, Miss,” said the man, looking over



*

52 LITTLE GEMS.

his shoulder at his wife, “Didst ever hear
the like of that?—here’s a little maiden says
as how she wants discretion. Well, I’ve seed
many a one as wanted it afore, but never one
as owned to it.”

A sharp-featured, vinegar-looking womap
now appeared, looking very unlike anything
Maria expected to see so near the house
Beautiful.

“So you want discretion, Miss, do you?
Well, I wonder if there’s anything else you
want?”

“T thought,” said Maria, trying to feel
brave, “I might be allowed to sleep either
here or at the palace.”

A private conversation now took place be-
tween the husband and wife, in which it was
agreed that he should take Maria to the
quality at the great house, as may be they
would make something of her. Maria felt
very proud when she found herself with her
hand in that of Mr. Watchful, and actually
on the way to the palace. Her guide left her
outside, while he asked to speak to Mrs.



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 53

Adams, to whom he said that the little lady’s
intellects seemed all of a heap together, it
was such a queer thing to hear a child like
her talk of want of discretion, though no
doubt it was all very true.

Mrs. Adams told him to get a horse ready,
that she might send him off to the friends of
the little girl, as soon as she could ascertain
who they were; and she came and led Maria
by the hand into the drawing-room so ten-
derly, and looked so very kindly, that Maria
began to feel quite re-assured.

She was delighted to see three young la-
dies in the room, who, of course, were Piety,
Prudence, and Charity. Mrs. Adams, as soon
as she had given her a large slice of bread
and butter, and some new milk, said, “ Now,
my dear, you'll tell us what your name is,
and who your papa and mamma are.”’

“My name, ma’am, is Maria Walker, but
I never had either a papa or mamma,” replied
Maria, with the utmost simplicity.

«And where do you live, dear?”

“At Oldtown, with my grandmother.”
5 *



54 LITTLE GEMS.

“And where were you going, my love?”

“I did not want to go farther than this
house to-night. I always intended to sleep
here.”

“ And does any one know you were coming
here?”

“No, ma’am. No one knew exactly that
I meant to come to-day; but our clergy-
man, Mr. Roberts, strongly advised me to
come, and he said I could not set out too
soon.”

“And what was your object in coming,
Maria?”

“T wished to set an example to all the peo-
ple in Oldtown,” was the answer; and both
Mrs. Adams and her daughters were quite at
a loss what to think of their little visitor.

Maria, however, had gained so much cour-
age, that she thought she might venture to
ask a few questions, and she began with,

Do many children come here, ma’am?”’

“Yes, sometimes we have children here.
We're all very fond of them, when they are
good.”



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 55

“And have you got any armour for little
girls, ma’am?”

This was almost too much for the gravity
of Mrs. Adams, but determined not to let her
see how much she was amused, she deter-
mined rather to encourage her in asking any
questions she pleased, hoping by that means
to obtain a clue to the very extraordinary
state in which her mind seemed to be.

“Oh no!” she said; “but why do you want
to know?

“T was afraid you had not,” said Maria;
and then looking very serious, “ Please, ma’am,
tell me is this house very near the Valley of
the Shadow of Death?”

“ My poor little child!’ said Mrs. Adams,
drawing her close to her and kissing her,
“that none of us can tell; it way be nearer
than we think.”

“But you won’t send me there to-night,
will you?” and the child half cried as she
asked the question, “You'll let me stay and
sleep here ?”’

“Yes, you shall, dear little wanderer, and



56 LITTLE GEMS.

I think you must need sleep very much, for
you look tired, and your little hand is very
hot.”

“T suppose nobody ever comes back here
that’s been through the Valley,”’ continued
the child, almost as if thinking aloud.

This touched a chord in every bosom pres-
ent, that thrilled through them, for their
mourning was yet new for one very dear to
them, who had been suddenly hurried through
that. valley of which Maria spoke.

“T think, ma’am,” said she, “it would be
a terrible thing for a little girl like me to go
there alone without any armour. Oh, please
let Piety go with me—O pray do!’ said the
child, wondering what she possibly could have
said that made them all cry so.

At this moment the porter arrived, to say
he was ready, and Mrs. Adams desired him to
tell Mrs. Walker her little Maria was safe,
but very tired, and she would either take her
home in the morning, or would be very happy
to see the ladies if they liked to come and
fetch her.



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 57

“T don’t want to go home,” said Maria;
“T only want to go back as far as the Wicket
Gate, that I may begin at the beginning.”

“Oh, now I see it all!’ exclaimed she whom
Maria was sure must be Charity ; “ you dear,
delightful little creature, you’ve been reading
the Pilgrim’s Progress till your little head
is turned, as I’m sure mine would have been
at your age, if I had not had a good mamma
to explain all to me; and as you never had a
mamma, how could you know anything about
it?”

A few judicious questions now drew forth
from Maria the whole story of her pilgrimage,
and when her aunts arrived, before breakfast
the next morning, they were quite surprised
to find her looking so well, and happy, and
rational, as they had been very much fright-
ened by Mr. Watchful’s account of what he
called her light-mindedness and want of dis-
cretion.

Mrs. Adams begged she might be allowed
to stay a few days with them; and before the
time came for her departure, the beautiful al-



58 LITTLE GEMS.

legory which had so much perplexed her, was
made so very plain, that she thought she
must have been extremely stupid not to have
found out the meaning for herself.

‘My young readers will, I am sure, be glad
to hear that Maria, who has now little girls
of her own, has long since found the true
Wicket Gate, and is anxious to show to
others the privilege of being permitted to en-
ter it. Few, in the present day, have not
greater advantages than she had; and if any
are induced to ask themselves the question,
whether with superior instruction, they are
equally in earnest to obtain, in the days of
health, Piety for their companion through that
dark valley, which, sooner or later, all must
tread, my story will not have been written in
vain.



THE PEARL MERCHANT. 59

THE PEARL MERCHANT.

It was a beautiful evening in a little town
on the shores of the Red Sea. The setting
sun lighted up the clay-houses, and the even-
ing breeze fanned the turbans and the long
flowing robes of the people who had come to
the shore to refresh themselves after the toils
of the day. Just as the disk of the sun
touched the horizon, they saw a long train of
camels approaching. Men were riding on
some of them in little carriages, or on richly
embroidered saddles. Others carried on their
backs large bundles, and the cloths thrown
over them almost touched the ground. There
were men walking beside the camels leading
them, and a troop of horsemen on their white
Arab steeds were galloping round the train.
It was a caravan.

The people were glad to see this sight; for
this town was a noted place for pearls, and
the people who were riding on the camels
were coming to buy their pearls. So they in-



60 LITTLE GEMS.

vited the merchants to their houses, and the
rest of the caravan went to the inn. There
were no rooms there: it was simply a large
empty shed. But they unloaded their camels
and gave them their supper; and then they
spread their own mats on the floor and lay
down to sleep.

The next morning the little town was in
a great commotion. Every one who had any
pearls to sell took them to the market-place.
There they sat down on the ground, spread
their mats before them, and laid out their
oyster shells upon the mats. For pearls, as
you know, are found in oyster-shells; and
they would not open the shells, but sold them
to the merchants as they were.

The merchants soon arrived, and then the
business began. They went round to each
seller and examined his shells. They took
up one shell after another and held it up to
the light, and tried to open it and peep in-
side, and looked at the marks outside; and,
if they liked it, they sat down and bargained
for it. And thus the work went on.



THE PEARL MERCHANT. 61

There was one among the merchants who
made no purchases. He had been with the
caravan; but throughout the whole journey
he had spent nothing, and when they asked
him what he would buy, he said that he was
in search of a valuable pearl. This day he
walked about from place to place, taking up
a few shells occasionally, and putting them
down again with a melancholy look.

At last he came to one man who was sit-
ting among the rest. He took up one of his
shells in his hand to look at it. As he looked
at it his face brightened, till at length he
clasped his hands, and lifted up his eyes to
heaven. He had found what he was search-
ing for.

“What is the price of this shell?” he said,
to the owner.

“This shell,” replied the owner, “is be-
yond all price. Nothing but esteem for thee
could induce me to part with it. But out. of
love to thee, I will let thee have it: for two
hundred talents.”

“T will pay that sum,” said the other.

6



62 LITTLE GEMS.

The bystanders were astonished. They
had never known such a sum given for a pearl
shell before. But he was in earnest; and
witnesses were called to prevent any mistake.

That same day the merchant sold all his
goods. All the jewels which he had brought
for the purpose of his business, and all his
beautiful clothes, and even his camel, were
sold; so that nothing was left to him. In
the evening he came back to the owner of the
pearl and counted out the sum, and then,
after carefully examining the shell, he took it
away with him to the inn. All the town was
in wonder; some said he was a magician, but
others shook their heads, and said that he
was mad.

The caravan soon started on their journey
home, and with them the poor merchant. He
had no camel to ride, and hardly any food to
eat. He was forced to walk all the way;
and he would have perished with hunger if it
had not been for the kindness of some of his
fellow-travellers, who took pity upon him.
He got many hard words, and many blows;



THE PEARL MERCHANT, 63

but still-he was cheerful and contented, for
he could think of nothing but his pearl.

At length the caravan reached the great
city where the.king lived; and the merchants
began to prepare the merchandise. But many
of them were sadly disappointed. Some found
that their shells, which they had carried all
the way from the sea-coast, were empty.
Others found‘ that the pearls which, when
they first came out of their shells, were pure
white, had turned yellow, and were of little
value.

But the merchant who had sold everything
that he had to buy his pearl, came forth with
joy from the trial. This pearl was pure
white. There was not a spot upon it. It
was perfectly round, and larger than any that
had ever been seen. The despised merchant
was now the first man in the city. He sold
his pearl to the king for an immense sum,
and became a rich man. Those who had ill-
treated him were glad to beg his favour, and
he did not forget those who had been kind to
him. And for years afterwards the merchant



64 LITTLE GEMS.

and his valuable pearl were remembered and
talked of.

We are all seeking for a pearl; and that
pearl is happiness. Some seek it in riches.
They give themselves no rest. They sit up
late at night, and they rise up early in the
morning, in order to get rich, and sometimes
they succeed. But often riches take to them-
selves wings and flee away; and if not, they
die and leave their riches. Their pearl shell
is empty.

Others again seek their happiness in plea-
sure. They spend their whole life in amuse-
ment, and never look beyond the present day.
But they soon get tired of their amusements,
and then they try new ones, until they have
gone through all they can get, and then they
have nothing to look to. And when they
get old they cannot enjoy their pleasures any
more. Their pearl has lost its lustre.

But others seek their happiness in religion.
They confess their sins and ask that they
may be forgiven for Christ’s sake; and God
hears their prayers. Then they have a peace



THE PEARL hencuaNr. 65

which nothing in this world can give. They
lie down at night with the thought that their
sins are pardoned; and through every day
God fills their heart with joy. Their riches
cannot flee away; for they are laid up in
heaven. Their happiness can never grow old;
for the peace which Christ gives is not like
that which the world gives. And when they
die their happiness will not end.

After death its joys shall be,

Lasting as eternity ;

Be the living God my friend,
Then my bliss will never end.

This is the “pearl of great price:” and
who would not seek this happiness? Who
would not make it the first thing?

“For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a
merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: who
when he had found one pear] of great price,
went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”
Matt. xiii, 45, 46.

g *



66 LITTLE GEMS.

THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH
PROMISE.

/ “Don’t go on the river to-night, James,”
said Widow Bright to her son a few weeks
ago.

“ Why not?”

“Because it is unsafe. The weather has
been mild for several days, and I have myself
heard the ice crack two or three times, al-
though it is half a mile away.”

“Poh, mother, you women are such scary
creatures. Why, Dick Colton and I skated
there all the afternoon, and the ice was as
strong as a bridge.”

“But, my son, it has been growing tender
all the while under the warm wind, and you
cannot see, this dark evening, to avoid the
thin places.”

“Just one hour, mother.’’

‘Not one moment, my son.”

“Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle
—tied to my mother’s apron strings!’’ shouted



}

4
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 67

Harry, very red in the face, and rushed ont
of the room, banging the door after him.

“Oh dear!” sighed good Mrs. Bright, as
she leaned her head thoughtfully upon her
hands. clasped fingers, and she looked, as she sat
there, like a very careworn, anxious mother.
And so she was. She was a widow, and
Harry her only child. ,“‘kte was a bright-faced
boy of thirteen, quick-witted, impulsive, and
kind-hearted. But oh! he was so daring, so
impetuous, so self-willed. He loved his mo-
ther dearly ; but he loved his own way better.
He would do much, very much for her com-
fort, but he would doa great deal more for
the carrying out of any wild plan of his own.

His mother saw his faults, She reasoned
with him, plead with him, and what was far
better, prayed for him. She was cheered too
by a firm hope; for bright, from out the mire
and dirt of the boy’s nature, shone that pur-
est of gems, Truth.

There are a great many boys like Harry
Bright, “Perhaps one of them is just now



68 LITTLE GEMS.

reading this story. Well, I do not care how
sparkling your face is, how quick your brain
is; if you are ever unkind to your gentle mo-
ther, if you ever give her sad moments, or
bring tears of sorrow to her eyes, you have a
bad spot in your heart; and every time you
grieve her, you forfeit one more claim to God’s
glorious promise.
.,' Harry did not feel just right, when he got
out of doors. The evening was quite dark,
but the sky was thickly studded with stars,
and the air was soft and balmy. It was in-
deed just such an evening as would ordinarily
have set Harry’s brain all aglow with bright
dreams. But on this evening it was alto-
gether otherwise. He stole up to the window
and pee in, then sat down on the end of
the door-stone, leaned his head on his hands,
just as his mother was doing inside, and be-
gan to cry.
“He was listening to his good angel then;
and had nothing untoward happened, he would
propaga gone in, asked his mother’s for-
giveness, and passed a happy evening with



THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 69

her. But just as Harry was making up his
mind so to do, there came a shrill whistle at
the garden gate. It was Dick Colton, calling
him to the skating-ground. Jarry gave no
answer, but drew his sleeve quickly two or
three times across his eyes.q3 Dick whistled
once more, and then came“to the corner of
the house and peeped round.

“Halloa, there!’ he shouted, “are you
asleep or dead? Come, there are~half a
dozen more boys going on to the river, and
we shall have capital fun.”

“T can’t,” said Harry, faintly.
_2#Can’t!” repeated Dick, coming up to
him; “what do you mean? Been crying
too, I'll bet a sixpence. Ha, ha, that’s a
good one. My mother said, You shan’t go,
and I said, I will. Come, boo-baby, cut your
mother’s apron-strings and run.”

Harry did not relish being called a boo-
baby. His cheeks grew as red as his eyes;
he Kréathed quick, clenched his fists, and
would have struck Dick, had not that artful
boy turned the tide by a touch of flattery.



70 LITTLE GEMS.

“Tt is too bad though, Harry, that such a
good-natured fellow and capital skater as you
are, can’t have a little fun now and then of
an evening.”

Now Harry, like the rest of you boys,
liked to be called a good-natured fellow, and
liked Dick, at the time, for doing it. So
Harry parleyed a while with the tempter, and
then did what people always do, who parley
with sin//he made a compromise with Dick,
and contfuded to go down to the river side
and look on, whilst the other boys skated.
Another breach of God’s command, another
forfeiture of the glorious promise. Dick Col-
ton and the rest of the boys strapped on their
skates, and started off in fine style. Harry
took Dick’s shawl and spread it out at the
foot of the great elm tree, which overhung
the river, and sat down upon it. He looked
up./ “Whrough the leafless branches the sky
shone blue and clear, begemmed with stars.
Up and down the bank, as far as he. could
see, little bushes nudged and crowded each
other, and leaned far over on the frozen stream.



THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 71

A very pleasant river bank they had al-
ways made for him before; but now they grew
weird and grim, in the dim light, and the tall
forest beyond them was full of gloom. The
boys had gone far down the river, and Harry
grew so very lonely, he thought he could not
stand it any longer, and had just made up his
mind to go home to his mother, -when he was
startled by the crackling of the bushes behind
him. It was only Dick Colton’s dog, how-
ever, that jumped out of the underbrush on
to Harry’s neck, and began to wag his tail,
as much as to say, “ You are not such a bad
boy after all.” Harry was glad just then to
have the caresses of any living thing; so he
hugged the dog until he barked for pain.
Suddenly there came up the river a shrick, so
clear, so shrill and wild,/-Harry started up
in terror. Skating towérds him, as for dear
life, he saw five boys. Where was the
sixth?

“Oh, come quick,” they shouted to Harry,
“Dick will drown. He has broken through
the ice. Oh, do come.”



72 LITTLE GEMS.

Harry was a quick-witted boy. “Your
skates,” he called to the smallest boy. They
were off and buckled on again in a twinkling.
Harry snatched the shawl, and in less time
than I am writing this, was far down the
river.

“ “Stop, stop,’ screamed the boy behind
im, “there he is. You will be in after him.”
And so he might, had not the stalwart fellow
caught Harry by the arm, and thrown him
somersault upon the ice. The thin crust
cracked beneath them, and they were obliged
to creep very carefully. Poor Dick was in a
fearful plight. Yet Providence had given
him a fragile hold upon life. In an Autumn
gale, a tall tree had been dislodged from the
shelving shore, and had fallen into the stream,
which was here both broad and deep. £ Upon
the outermost branch of: this tree, slefder and
frail, Dick supported himself. He did not
try to reach the ice, for he knew that it would
break off at his touch; so that his only hope
lay in the overhanging tree. He was a wise
boy to send for sharp, brave Harry, who did

































































































ari



























































































































THE RESCUR. Page 72.






THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 73

just what you must do in a like trial. He
crept as near the hole as he durst, and laid
flat upon the ice; then he made another stout
boy lie down behind him and take hold of his
heels. “Thereupon he threw a corner of the
shawl to Dick, who by the help of that, made
out to reach the firm trunk of the tree, upon
which he easily clambered on to the stronger
ice.

There was no more skating that night.
Dick’s little dog clapped his tail between his
legs, and walked behind his drenched master,
whining piteously. Harry, sobered and sad-
dened, went straight home, and Jaid open his
heart to his mother. ‘Oh, if it had been me,
dear mother,” said he, ‘show I should have
thought of my unkindness to you! Can I
ever treat you so again ?”’

“God helping you, my son, you will not,”
said the widow, her eyes filling with tears.

And Harry did,I trust, thereafter, try to
fulfil the full meaning of that holy command-
ment with promise. I wish, too, that Dick
Colton’s heart had been washed clean in that

7



74 LITTLE GEMS.

cold river; but poor Dick was but a sorry
fellow at best. He was laid up a long time
with a fever, brought on by the exposure of
that night, and for more than a year was
barely able to hobble about. When I last
saw him he had just shipped on board of a
merchantman, bound for China.

More than one praying mother holds the
poor waif in remembrance; and I have strong
faith of good news of him some day.

Honour thy father and mother, which is
the first commandment with promise.

JEM, THE SAILOR BOY.

““WauaT makes you so sad, Jem? You are
a dull companion when you ought to be mer-
riest. Here we are close in shore.”

The two boys were standing on the deck
of the “Saratoga,” as she swept gaily into
the port of New York.



JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 75

“T Lave no reason to be merry,” said Jem.
“Tt has been a sad voyage to me.”

“Sad! Why we have had some pleasant
times together.” *

“And yet I have not been happy a mo-
ment since I left New York.”

“Well, what is it, Jem? Tell me now.”

“A guilty conscience, Will, that is all;
and that is enough, too, everybody knows.
Bad companionship has led to all my troubles,
and I have cried myself to sleep many a night
in my hammock.”

“Come now, Jem, and confess your sins, as
if I were a priest.” And Will tried to laugh
away his sadness, but in vain; he still gazed
thoughtfully at the sunset over the water, and
continued silent. ‘Jem, we have always
been good friends since we met on ship-board,
and friends should always tell each other their
troubles,”

“It is of no use, Will. You are going home
to meet your father and mother; and I—”

‘Well, if you have no home, that is no
Teason for a guilty conscience.”



76 LITTLE GEMS.

*“ But, Will, I ran away from it, and J
have never been really happy since.”’

The boys stood leaning over the railing,
and looking down into the‘water; as it parted
before the prow, and broke into myriads of
foam-crested waves, the silence grew deeper
and deeper. At length it was broken by Jem,
and in the hope of relieving his mind, he re-
lated to Will the circumstances of his child-
hood. His mother had died in his infancy,
and his grandmother had had the charge of
his early training. His father, a poor but
honest man, had endeavoured to instil good
principles into the mind of his son; but as he
grew up he became wayward and passionate;
a bad companion in the neighbourhood had
counteracted all home influences, and made
him restless and impatient of restraint.

They urged him to go to the Sunday-school;
Jem rebelled, because his companion told
him that it was “pleasantest to go out into
the fields on Sunday afternoons; it was bad
enough to study on week-days.” Time rolled
on, and even a removal from the neighbour-



JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. TT

hood did not separate them. The boy fol-
lowed Jem wherever he went, and finally, in an
evil hour, induced him to run away with him,
and ship as an apprentice on board a sloop of
war.

He was then fourteen years old. The
vessel was to sail immediately, so that Jem
had no time for reflection or repentance.
They had been at sea but one aveek, when his
companion fell from the mast-head upon the
deck, and was killed. Then it was that Jem,
terrified and conscience-stricken, as he looked
upon the mangled and bleeding body of him
who had acquired such an ascendancy over
him, awoke to a sense of his own guilt.

The chaplain, observing his distress, ob-
tained from him a confession of the circum-
stances, and availed himself of the opportunity
to influence him to a right course, and to fill
his mind with better thoughts and new resolu-
tions. Convinced of his penitence, he com-
forted him with the promises of pardon which
the Bible offers to the penitent sinner; and

Jem was changed. Day and night the thought
7



78 LITTLE GEMS.

was on his mind of the distress which he had
caused to those who had loved him through
all his waywardness. How could he atone
for it? Would they forgive—would God for-
give him? Oh! could he only see his father
and his grandmother once again! Could he
only get back to that poor little homely
dwelling! It was too late. Jem must bear
his punishment; it was to be greater than he
anticipated.

They touched at a foreign port for supplies,
and from thence he wrote a letter to his
father, and told him all. The pages were
blotted with his tears, and for the time he
was relieved; but he was never to see that
father again; he told him where to address
his next fetter, and in due time he received
one, in the trembling hand of his poor heart-
broken grandmother. He broke the seal in
haste, and through all its bad spelling, and
crooked lines, he discovered the fact that his
father had been ill ever since he left; that
anxiety on his account had increased his
malady, and that his penitential letter had



JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 79

arrived only a few days before his death.
His most earnest earthly wish had been
for tidings of his son, and when they ar-
rived, and showed him penitent and resolved
to amend his life, and to atone for his sins,
he fervently tharked God “for his mercies to
his unworthy servant.” Then a deep serenity
had taken the place of his restlessness, and
when he yielded his spirit to his Maker, he
left his blessing for his prodigal but repentant
son. She also assured him of her forgiveness,
and hoped that he would come to her as soon
as the vessel returned; she would ‘“‘try to
keep the little old home till then, but her
means were very small.”

Jem’s sorrow was indeed bitter for his
father’s death, and his poor grandmother’s
desolation. He felt, for the time, that “his
punishment was greater than he could bear ;”’
and he went for consolation once mora to the
good chaplain, who prayed with and for him,
and offered him all the soothing influences
of religion. He felt that he deserved the
trials which God had sent upon him, and in



80 LITTLE GEMS.

daily petitions for strength and guidance, he
awaited the end of the voyage. The months
passed slowly on; and, faithful to his duty,
he continued go, also, to his new resolves.
At another port, Will Fowler had joined the
vessel, and his ceaseless wit and merriment
had won Jem, in some degree, from his sor-
row; but his gaiety was only the ripple on
the surface: that there was an undercurrent
of deep feeling we have already seen.

-On his arrival, he hastened to the old
home. It had twice changed hands. Stran-
gers inhabited it. They knew nothing of its
former occupants. Broken-hearted, he turned
away. What should he do? How find his
poor and aged grandmother, who might be
starving even now? Where was she in this
wide world? Homeless perhaps, and friendless.

* * * * *
Onéhe steps of the Custom House in Wall
Street, sat an old woman with a little stand
before her, covered with a snow white cloth,
On it were piled pyramids of rosy apples,
polished like a mirror. The sale of these,



JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 81

with some candies, made her whole revenue.
There she sat knitting, knitting, the long
day through, in her neat calico dress, white
apron, and close cap, with a sun-bonnet drawn
over it; and the officials, as they passed in and
out, often stopped to drop some pennies into
her hand, in exchange for what her neat little
table offered them. She tried to be cheerful.
She tried to be submissive to God’s will; but
sometimes a tear would trickle down.over her
furrowed cheek and awaken sympathy for her
age and apparent sorrows. Then a larger
token of benevolence, in the shape of a half
dollar, or two shilling piece, would fall into
her little treasury. Sometimes, in her human
longings for the one being for whose sake
she yet clung to life, she would become ab-
stracted, and then the money would touch her
hand to recall her to consciousness.

“Oh! if I only knew where poor Jem is!
If these old eyes couldximly see him once
more! But, it_isn’t likéty—it isn’t likely.
I could not keep the old house any longer: a
little room in an attic must do for me now;



82 LITTLE GEMS.

and he won’t know where to find me.” Such
thoughts were continually in her mind, and
prayer for him was daily and hourly in her
heart and on her lips.

‘Well, good mother, can you spare some
of your red apples to-day?” and some pen-
nies fell upon her little table. She started at
the voice, and looked up; but she drooped
her head again, in disappointment. The
young sailor who addressed her, wore the
uniform of a ship-of-war. The white pants,
and blue jacket, the large blue shirt collar
with stripes, and the broad-brimmed straw
hat, and black ribbon with long ends, like
streamers, she had never seen before. He
had grown taller, too, during his two years
absence. ,

“May be you have been to foreign parts,
young man.”

“Yes, ma’am, I have.”

“Did you ever see a sailor, called Jem
Bogart, in your travels?”

“Jem Bogart! Let me look under that
big sun-bonnet of yours, if you please, ma’am,”’



JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 88

and suiting the action to his words, he stooped
down suddenly, and gazed at her. Another
moment and she was clasped in the young
sailor’s arms, and held to his heart.

“So, grandmother, you don’t know poor
Jem, in all this ‘ toggery.’ ”

“Praise God! praise God! dear Jem! now
I can depart in peace.”

‘‘No, no, grandmother, all my earnings I
have saved for you, and I have found you at
last; after looking three days all over this
great city. I am tired of the sea; and now
I am going to live with you, and work for
you.”

“God bless you, my boy! and you will
not leave me any more?”

“No, grandmother, nothing but death shall
separate us. You have forgiven me, I know.”

“Yes, my boy, as I hope that God will
forgive me.”

The punishment of Jem had been severe,
but it had “wrought a good work in him,’’
and by a new life he proved his contrition for
the sins of the past.



84 LITTLE GEMS.

THE LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S
DAUGHTER.

A LIGHTHOUSE is @ high tower, or building,
the upper part of which is called ‘the lan-
tern,’ where lamps are lit at night. The
light of these lamps shines all night, to guide

_ ships on their way, and to show where danger
lies. The lighthouse seems to say, “Take
care, sailors, for rocks and sands are here.
Keep a good lookout, and mind how you sail,
or you will be lost.”

Two or three persons live in the lighthouse
to attend to the lamps. We will now look
into one of these buildings on the coast of
Cornwall.

Little Mary was in the lighthouse alone.
The night was coming on, and a storm was
rising on the sea. She heard the waves dash
against the rocks, and the wind moan round
the tower.

Mary’s father had trimmed the lamps, and
they were ready for lighting when the even-



LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S BAUGHTER. 85

ing came on. But as he wanted to buy some
food, he crossed the-‘‘causey,” which leads to
the land. This causey was a pathway over
the rocks and sands, which could only be
passed for two or three hours in the day; at
other times the waters rose and covered it.
The father intended to hasten home before it
was dark, and before the tide flowed over this
path to the shore.

But where was Mary’s mother? She had
been dead for two or three years. She was a
pious woman, and often sat in the lonely
lighthouse with her little girl, teaching her to
read from a large old Bible. Then she used
to tell her of Jesus, the Lord of life and glory,
and how he came into the world, and died on
the cross to save sinners, and how he invites
the young to come to him, that they may be
happy.

Well, as we have said, the father of Mary
had gone on shore. He had told Mary not
to be afraid, for that he would soon return.
But there were some rough-looking men be-

hind a rock, who were watching Mary’s father,
8



86 e#LITTLE GEMS.

and seemed glad as they saw him go to the
land. Who were they?

These men were wreckers. They waited
about the coast, and if a vessel was driven by
a storm on the rocks, they rushed down—not
to help the poor sailors—but to rob and ill-
treat them, and to plunder the ship.

The wicked men knew that there was only
a little girl left in the lighthouse; and they
had a plan to keep her father on the shore all
the night. Some ships, filled with rich goods,
were expected to pass before the morning;
and they thought that, should the lamps in
the lighthouse not be lit, these vessels would
run upon the rocks and be wrecked, and then
the goods ‘would be their spoil.

How cruel and wicked these men must have
been to seek the ruin and death of the poor
sailors! But we see how true it is what the
Bible says: ‘‘ The heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked; who can
know it?”

Mary’s father had filled his basket with
bread and other things, and had prepared to



LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. 87

return ; for it would soon be time to light the
lamps. As he drew nigh to the road leading
to the causey, the wreckers rushed from their
hiding-place, and threw him on’ the ground.
They quickly bound his hands and feet with
ropes, and carried him into a shed, there to
lie till the morning. It was in vain that he
cried to them to be set free; they only mocked
his distress. They then left him to the
charge of two men; while they ran back to
the shore.

“Oh, my sweet little Mary! what will you
do?” cried the father, as he lay in the shed;
“there will be no one to light the lamps ; many
ships may be wrecked, and hundreds of sailors
may be lost.

Mary looked from a narrow window in the ,
lighthouse toward the shore, thinking it was
time for her father to come back. The clock
in the little room had just struck six; and
she knew that the waters would soon rme up
to the causey.

An hour passed; the clock struck seven,
and Mary still looked toward the beach, but



88 LITTLE GEMS.

no father wds to be seen. By the time it was
eight, the tide was nearly over the pathway;
only bits of rock here and there were above
the waters, and they too were soon covered
over. ‘ Qh, father, make haste!” cried Mary
aloud, as though her father could hear her,
“have you forgotten your little girl?’ But
the only answer was the noise of the waters
as they rose higher and higher, and the roar
of the wind as it gave notice of the coming
storm.

Now Mary sat down and wept. Surely
there would be no lights that night, and many
a vessel would be cast ashore.

While Mary wept, she thought of what her
dear mother used to say, that we should look
to Jesus in every time of need. And in a
corner of the room she knelt and prayed for
help: “OQ Lord, show me what to do, and
bless my dear father, and bring him home
safe."

The water was now some feet above the
causey. The sun had set for more than an
hour. As the moon rose in the sky, black



LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. 89

storm-clouds soon covered her from sight, and
then not a, star was seen. The wreckers
walked along the shore, looking for some ship
to strike on the coast. These men hoped that
the sailors, not seeing the lights, would think
that they were not near the coast, and would
be dashed on the rocks.

Just at this moment the thought came into
Mary’s mind that she would try to light the
lamps. But what could a little girldo? The
lamps were far above her reach. She, how-
ever, got a few matches, and made a light.
The next thing was to carry a set of steps to
the spot, and attempt to reach the lamps.
But after much labour, she found they were
still above her head. A small table was next
brought from below, and Mary put the steps
upon it, and mounted to the top with hope
and joy, for now she was almost sure that she
could light the lamps. But no; though she
stood on tiptoe, they were even yet’a little
higher than she could reach. “If I had a
stick,’ she said, “I would tie a match to it,

and then I could set light to the wicks.” Yet
8 s



90 LITTLE GEMS.

no stick, nor anything of the kind was to be
found. ;

The storm now became quite fearful. The
sailors looked along the coast for the lights.
Where could they be? Had they brought
their ships in a wrong direction? They were
at a loss to tell, and knew not which way to
steer.

All this time Mary’s father was praying in
the shed, that God would take care of his
child in the dark and lonely lighthouse.

Poor Mary was about to sit down again
and weep, when she thought of the large old
Bible in the room below. But how could she
tread on that book? It was God’s holy word,
which her mother loved so much to read.
“Yet it is to save life,” said she; “and if
mother were here, would she not allow me to
take it?” Mary did not scorn her mother's
Bible; its very covers were precious in her
sight.

In a minute the large book was brought
and placed under the steps, and up she got
again. Yes, she was just high enough; then



LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER. 91

she touched one wick, and another, and an-
other, till the rays of the lamps shone brightly
far over the dark waters.

The father saw the light as he lay in the
shed, #d thanked God who had sent help—
though he knew not how—in the hour of
danger. The sailors beheld the light, and
steered their ships away from the rocks, and
were safe. And the wreckers, too, saw the
light, and were full of rage that their cruel
plot had wholly failed.

All that stormy night the lamps cast their
rays over the foaming sea; and when the
morning came, the wreckers let the father
loose from the shed. The water was again
down from the causey, and he was soon in the
lighthouse, there to learn from his little girl
the way in which God had helped her in the
hour of her trial. Brave little Mary! may
we not hope that the blessed Bible was “a
light unto her feet and a lamp unto her path’’
all through her life, and that it guided her
to heaven, there to meet her dear mother to
part no more?



92 LITTLE GEMS.

Young reader, have you the light of life?
Has the Holy Spirit led you to believe in Je-
sus as your Saviour? If so, let, your light
shine—let it be seen in a holy temper and
conduct. And while the wicked try%to put
out the true light of God’s truth, do you strive
to set it up in the world, that men may see it
and be saved.

The heart, where the Spirit of God

In love and in pureness may rest,
‘Will spread all its beauty abroad,

And beara in the face from the breast.

No anger, nor hatred, nor scorn,
Nor bitterness there will be found ;

An injury felt will be borne,
Affection will shine all around.

Whatever men beauty may call,
This merits the title in truth ;
The loveliest beauty of all
Is the bud of religion in youth.



THREE STAINS. 93

THREE STAINS
ON THE GHILDHOOD OF KATY MOORE.

“Waar! only three! How good she must
have been!” exclaimed Bell. Ah, no! she
was not good, nor were those the only stains
upon the pages of her young life, but they
stand out more prominently in her memory,
and assume a darker hue than all the others
combined; and I will tell you why, ere I lay
down my pen.

Katy was an only daughter, and besides
her brother Harry, who was nearly three
years her senior, there was no little one in
the home circle. All her-reasonable desires
were gratified. Her little school-mates were
always welcomed at her mother’s house, and
she could visit them in return as much as she
liked. * She had a library of the most charm-
ing books; a garden of her own, in which
she might sow her own’ seeds, yes, and dig
them up too, to see if they had sprouted ;
neat and pretty dresses,—but, I am glad to



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The Baldwin Library

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FEEDING THE SWANS. PAGE 17.
LITTLE GEMS

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

PHILADELPHIA :
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
NO, 821 CHESTNUT STREET,
CHAPTER

I.

II.
III.
IV.
Vv.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.

XI.
XII.
XITI.

XIy.

CONTENTS.

Pack

The Secret, 6
Feeding the Swans, 17
Will Winslow, 22
God’s Little Child, 29
The Little Pilgrim, 41
The Pearl Merchant, 59
The First Commandment with Promise. 66
Jem, the Sailor Boy, 74
The Lighthouse-Keeper’s Daughter, 84
. Three Stains, 93
Tell the Truth, 102
Sophie’s Victory, 115
The Two Dimes, 128
Selfishness and Kindness, .. 184
4

CHAPTER

KV.

XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
xX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
Robert Douglas’s Revenge, 148
The News Boy, 150
Always do Right, 159
Lost and Found, 166
Afraid of the Dark, 176
Faith, 184
Jack Miller, 190
The Child and the Infidel, 195
Little Sins, 202
The Law of Love, 206

The Little Travellers to the Land of
Light, 212
LITTLE GEMS.

THE SECRET.

“ Here, boys, are twenty shillings for each
of you,” said Mr. Mitchell’ to his twin sons,
Clarence and Edward, on a bright winter
morning, as they sat at breakfast. He handed
them each a gold piece. ‘I hear that you
are at the head of your classes in French and
Latin, and this is to express my satisfaction
at your progress. You are at liberty, of
course, to expend it as you please; but there
is an art inspending money. It may be done
selfishly, or disinterestedly ; it may be pro-
ductive of happiness, or of bitter memories ;
and though the sum be small, how to spend
it is worth learning.”’

“Tell us something about it, father,” said
Clarence, after they had both thanked him

1* 5
6 LITTLE GEMS.

cordially. ‘* Which way do you think
best ?”’

“I would rather, my son, that you should
reflect upon the subject, and draw your own
conclusions. Watch for an opportunity to
do with it something which your heart ap-
proves. The love of money, you know, is
called ‘the root of evil;’ but money may
be made the source of good. Use it as you
think best.” *

The boys looked very thoughtful. They
wished that he would only say what he
thought best. Then they appealed to their
mother; but she approved of their father’s
decision, to throw the responsibility on them-
selves, and call their own judgment into ex-
ercise.

Some days afterward, as the two boys were
in their father’s library, he said to them,
“You have not told me how you spent your
gold pieces.”

Edward drew his from his pocket. ‘There
it is, father. I have not spent it yet.”

“ And yours, Clarence ?”
THE SECRET. 7

“Tt has all gone, father.”

“Indeed! and what have you to show for
it?”

“Nothing, sir.” Clarence bent his head
modestly, but without shame; and there was
a manliness in his tone, which convinced his
father that all was right.

“Nothing! Well, that may be; but I will
venture to say, my boy has not made an un-
profitable investment.”

“T hope not, sir.””

“Tf he had done wrong with it, he would
not be my Clarence,” said the mother ten-
derly.

Clarence looked at her with an expression
of deep feeling, then went to her silently,
put his arms affectionately about her neck,
and laid his head upon her shoulder. When
he raised it again, a tear lay upon her robe.

“My darling boy,”’—she embraced him
tenderly. ‘The secret is yours. You have
a right to it; and I am sure, it is an honour-
able one.”

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered in her
8 LITTLE GEMS.

ear. ‘Does father think so? Is he satis-
fied 2”

His mother repeated his question.

“To be sure, my son. I am satisfied.
Come here,” and he threw his arms around
him, and laid his head upon his bosom. “ Fa-
ther will trust, where he has never had cause
to distrust.”

Clarence could only once more whisper his
thanks. It was tenderness, not grief, that
caused his tears. He was a type of all that
is noble and generous in boyhood. Had he
been otherwise; had he expended his gift in
folly, or in vice, no reproaches that could
have been uttered, would have affected him,
or called him to bitter repentance, like the
confidence which was reposed in him, and the
tenderness which had just been manifested.
To prove himself worthy of that love and
confidence, would henceforth be his highest
earthly ambition. Oh! that all parents would
but understand this! and appealing to the
higher nature, the nobler attributes of their
children, call them into exercise.
THE SECRET. 9

Edward wished from his heart, that his bro-
ther would reveal to him what he had done;
but there was a code of honour in that house-
hold, as there should be in every home, and
it was understood by all its members. Clar-
ence had shown by his silence that he did not
wish to be questioned. Yet no one for a mo-
ment doubted that he had made a right use
of his money.

And now, although Clarence supposes his
secret to be safe from all, but the eye of his
Father in heaven, we, who have followed him
unseen, and watched him through all, will re-
late it in confidence to our readers.

The day on which he received the gift was
bright, clear, and frosty. It was December,
and though the sun shone cloudlessly in the
blue heavens, it had no power upon the icicles
which fringed the iron railings, or fell from
the trees in showers of brilliants, splintered
and shivered by the wind. The air was
healthful and exhilarating to the well-clad;
but to the poor, unprotected child of want it
came too keenly. Clarence hurried on, with
10 LITTLE GEMS.

his skates flung over his shoulder, to join a
skating-party. It was the vacation now. Ed-
die was to join them later. His hands were
thrust into his coat-pockets, and he pressed
on against the wind, when he felt his arm
seized from behind.

“Quick! Quick! Come quick!” said a
little bare-footed and bareheaded boy, seem-
ingly half frantic with grief and terror.
“T believe mother is dying. Do come
quick !”’

Clarence obeyed impulsively; while the
child clinging to his coat dragged him on.

The home, if such it could be called, was
not far distant; and the scene, which pre-
sented itself on his entrance, was awful in-
deed. A woman, surrounded by three or
four children screaming in terror, was lying
on her miserable bed, in frightful convulsions.
The foam was on her white lips, her clenched
hands seemed fixed in an immovable clasp,
and her aspect was altogether horrible.

“T will go for a doctor,” said Clarence,
and remembering that he had seen a physi-
THE SECRET. 11

cian’s house on his way, he ran with all speed
to summon him.

The doctor followed him immediately ; and
while he was administering to the poor suf-
ferer, Clarence had time to observe the scene
around him. What misery was there! Never
had he seen or conceived anything of the
kind before. The poor mother had toiled,
until over-exertion and starvation had brought
her to her present state. The children were
thin and meagre, only half clad; and no fire
upon the hearth. When they saw his friendly,
earnest face—for children understand well a
look or tone of sympathy—they gathered
around him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, in a low
voice.

“Yes, dreadful hungry.”

“And cold too,” he said; and with a heart
bleeding at the sight of such destitution and
misery, he hurried to a “restaurant” near
by. His gold-piece was now in requisition.
Thank God for its possession !

Hot rolls and hot coffee in abundance soon
12 LITTLE GEMS.

drew the little famished creatures to a corner
of the hovel, where they satisfied their hunger
and hushed their cries.

For a full hour the agony of the poor mo-
ther lasted; then she lay motionless from
utter exhaustion, and finally fell into a pro-
found slumber. A portion of the gold-piece
yet remained, and Clarence tendered to the
doctor the usual fee. A smile stole over the
face of the wealthy doctor 8 , (for it so
happened that one of the first physicians of
the city had, by chance, been summoned,)
but there was a tear in his eye, as he looked
at him earnestly.

“God bless you! my noble little fellow,”
and he laid his hand upon his head. ‘No,
keep your money for other good deeds. But
tell me, who are you?”

Clarence looked up at him and smiled, after
a moment’s pause, “Only my father’s son,
sir.”

“Well, well; you choose to do your good
deeds under a veil, I see; any father should
be proud of such a son. I never saw you be-


THE SECRET. 13

fore; but I think that we shall meet again.
You have a heart, my boy, too large for that
manly little frame.”” He laid his hand kindly
upon his head; shook him warmly by the
hand, and disappeared.

Clarence went also, but returned in an
hour, bringing with him a pair of new shoes
for each of the two eldest children. These
exhausted the money he then had with him;
but his ‘“charity-box” was at home, and on
that fund he determined to draw, in behalf
of the sufferers. While deliberating on what
they needed most, his good intentions
were forestalled by the appearance of the
doctor’s carriage at the door; and the doctor
himself, springing out hastily, took from it
humerous packages of clothing, provisions,
&e., an ample supply for their present wants.

“6 Here,’’ said he, to the eldest girl, a child
of six years, “dress your brothers and sisters
in these clothes; and see if your little hands
cannot make the room comfortable.”

The child’s eyes brightened, for food had

strengthened, and his cheerful tone encour-
2
14 LITTLE GEMS.

aged her. She was at once busily employed.
He smiled cordially as he discovered Clarence,
and said, “I told you that we should meet
again.”

He hastened away to other engagements ;
but a supply of fuel came by his orders im-
mediately after, and Clarence remained to aid
the helpless children; nor did he leave
them, until he saw them warmed and com-
fortable.

The doctor visited the family daily, until
the poor and grateful widow was perfectly
restored, and able again to take care of her
little ones; then his wife provided employ-
ment for her, and she required no further
assistance. One more visit revealed all this
to Clarence; but he and the doctor never
met again.

* * * * * *

Four weeks had passed. Clarence’s good
deed was still his own secret, when his father
encountered Dr. § .

“Mr. Mitchell, what a noble specimen of
humanity you have in that young son of


THE SECRET. 15

yours! I congratulate you on being his
father.”’

“Which one, doctor ?’”’

“Why the dark hair, and the dark eyes.
He does not tell his name.”

“What do you mean, doctor? ‘I hope that
he is not ashamed to own it.”

“Then he has not told you of his recent
encounter with me ?”’

“ Not a word.”

“Ts it possible? Let me tell you, you
have reason to be proud of that boy; he is a
noble little fellow, and God will place him
where he ought to be, in the ranks of true
greatness.”’ Then he related to Mr. Mitchell
every circumstance of that day, connected
with Clarence, delicately withholding his own
part in the proceedings, which did not, how-
ever, remain long a secret.

With a full heart, overflowing with thank-
fulness to God for such a son, Mr. Mitchell
returned to his home that night, and related
all to his wife. As soon as Clarence came in

he took him by the hand. “My son, I know
16 LITTLE GEMS.

the history of the twenty shilling piece.”
Clarence looked up in wonder. “Dr. 8
is an old friend, though we do not meet often.
He would not rest till he had traced you out;
and now, my boy, receive your father’s bless-
ing.” He bent down and kissed his forehead ;
then he led him to his mother.

“There,” said he, ‘‘take to your heart the
noblest son that God ever gave to a mother;
take him, and say, God bless him!”

She did fold him to her heart in silence ;
the mother’s feelings were too deep for words.
Edward came in. “My son, you have done
well in the purchase of your Bible; your bro-
ther has done well in the practice of its pre-
cepts. Emulate his noble example. I am
proud of both.”

Mrs. Mitchell withdrew with Edward into
the library, and there related to him the
story. Scarcely had she concluded it, when
he rushed back, and threw himself, in tears,
upon his brother’s neck. ‘Oh, Clarence!
I must be good, like you.”

Clarence wept. ‘Why, it is but little that


FEEDING THE SWANS. 17

I have done,” he said; “I had everything
that I required; it was no sacrifice.”

“ But you lost the skating-party, Clarence ;
and I know that you wanted a new riding-
whip; you said so, when father was giving us
lessons on Poney, in the vacation.”

“No matter for that,” said Clarence.

“My boy,”’ said his father, “why did you
keep it so secret? Did you not suppose that
we would all approve and commend it ?”

“Yes, father, but I remembered what you
read to us that morning: ‘Take heed that ye
do not your alms before men, to be seen of
them; otherwise, ye have no reward of your
Father which is in heaven.’ ”

FEEDING THE SWANS.

A LITTLE island lay in the middle of a calm
lake. The water of that lake had not always

been calm; no, it had leaped and roared as
9 *
18 LITTLE GEMS.

it dashed down the mountain’s rugged face,
and then danced in the sunshine at its foot;
but now it slept as quietly as the young birds
in that large nest by its side. This nest, formetl
of twigs and reeds, water-plants and long
grass, with a bed of nice soft feathers, was
the home of a family of young swans.

Not far from the lake, a little boy and girl,
called Edwin and Mary Leslie, lived with
their papa and mamma in a pretty country
house almost hidden among trees. Almost
every fine morning when lessons were over,
the children had a walk with their teacher,
who was no other than their own dear mamma;
and the wayside lessons taught them were not
less important than those which had just been
finished in the schoolroom.

“Oh, mamma, it is ever so long since we
saw the swans,” said Mary, as they passed
through the hall; “‘may we go down this
morning to the lake and look at them?”

“Tam quite willing to go with you, Mary;
but run back for your little basket, and ask
Ellen to cut a piece of bread, that you and
FEEDING THE SWANS. 19

Edwin may feed them, if they are so good as
to come near us.”

Basket and bread were soon found, and a
very few minutes’ walking brought the little
party to the water’s edge. The delight of
the children was great, when they saw their
old friend, the large white swan, which they
used to call Snowflake, sailing across the lake,
followed by two little cygnets, or young swans.
Edwin’s rosy face grew brighter than ever, as
he grasped his mother’s hand, crying, “‘ Who
ever saw such little beauties! I must have
one of them for my own, and Mary can have
the other. We shall carry them home, and
let them run about the garden.”

Mary laughed at her brother’s words and
said, “Oh, Edwin! you forget that the little
swaps would not be happy in the garden; we
must leave them here, but we can come down
every day to see them, and bring them a little
bread. Look how glad Snowflake is to get
it. Beautiful Snowflake! I love you very
much. Shall we sit a little time under this
tree, mamma, and watch the swans ?”’
20 LITTLE GEMS.

“JT think Snowflake ought to thank us for
the bread,” said Edwin, as he seated himself
on the grass by his mother’s side; “if she
cannot talk she might sing us a song.”

“There was a time,” said Mrs. Leslie,
“when people believed that the swan was able
to sing, especially when it was dying; but,
as we now never have any specimen of its
musical talent, there is reason to suppose
that the accounts of its fine voice were only
fables. The tame swan is the most silent of
birds, and the wild one utters only harsh
sounds.”

“Mamma, was there ever a black swan?”
asked Edwin.

“Yes, indeed, dear, though for hundreds
of years the finding of such a bird was not
thought +o be likely. Among the many
strange things discovered in Australia, the
black swan is not the least interesting. “It is
much smaller than its Kuropean cousin, and
of quite a jet hue, except a few of its quill
feathers, which are white. There were some
laws made about swans in England long ago.
FEEDING THE SWANS. 21

At one time they were highly valued as food,
and a man was sent to prison for a year and
a day, with such a fine as the king thought
fit, if he were found stealing one of its eggs.”

“T am glad that swans are not eaten in
England now,” cried Edwin; “how sad it
would be to kill our beautiful Snowflake!
But, mamma, do not swans live a long time ?”’

“T have read of some which lived thirty,
or even forty years, and I know that our old
friend here sailed about the lake many a day
before my little boy was born.”

“Just look, mamma,” cried Mary, “ what
care that good bird takes of the little cyg-
nets; see, she is leading them back to the
island. How kind she is to them !”

“Yes, dear, and the tenderness planted by
God in the breast of that parent bird is only
a faint shadow of his own great love to his
children. Oh, what good things he has laid
up for them—blessings in providence and
blessings in grace! But see, papa is coming
down the walk to call us; take your hoop,
Edwin, and run to meet him.”
WILL WINSLOW. 23

“Shame on you, Will!” said Charles Mans-
field, “to laugh at her misfortunes! I heard
my grandmother say, that she became a crip-
ple by lifting her idiot son, and tending him
night and day.”

“T don’t care what made her so,’’ said
Will, “but I wouldn’t stay in the world if I
was such a looking thing as that. Do look!”

“Shame! shame on you!” said Charles,
and “Shame! Shame!’’ echoed from each of
the boys present. ‘You may get your own
back broken one of these days—who knows ?””

To show their sympathy, several of them
sprang forward to aid the poor woman; but
Charles Mansfield, the oldest, and always an
example of nobleness and generosity, was the
first. “ Let me get the water for you, ma’am,”
and he gently took the bucket from her
hand.

Her voice was tremulous and tearful, as
she said, “Thank you, my dear boy. God
grant that you may never suffer from such
infirmities !””

“Tf I should,” said Charles, kindly, “it
22 LITTLE GEMS.

WILL WINSLOW.

WILL WINsLow was the worst boy in the
village; his father’s indulgence had spoiled
him. “Don’t check the boy,” he would say
to his mother, “you will crush all the man-
hood in him.’”” And.so he grew up the terror
of the neighbours. The old, the infirm, and
the crippled, were the special objects of his
vicious merriment. One poor woman, bent
by age and infirmities, he assailed with his
ridicule, as she daily went out upon her crutch,
to draw water from the well near her house,
and just within the play-ground of the school-
house. ‘Only look at her,’’ he would say,
“isn’t she the letter S now, with an extra
crook in it?” and his cruel laugh, as he fol-
lowed closely behind, mocking and mimicking
her, called forth from her no rebuke. One
day, however, she turned, and looking at him
reproachfully, said, ‘‘Go home, child, and
read the story of Elisha and the two bears
out of the wood.”
24 LITTLE GEMS.

would be the duty, and it ought to be the
pleasure of young people to assist me. One
of us will bring you water every day, so you
need not come for it.’’ ‘Yes, so we will,”
was echoed from lip to lip.

“God bless you! God bless you all!’
She wiped away her tears, and entered her
poor and lonely home.

Will Winslow was reported to the master,
and was sentenced to study during the usual
recess for a week to come. The punishment
was hard, for he loved play better than his
books; but how slight, in comparison with
the retribution which awaited him.

It was the second day of his confinement,
and he sat near the open window, watching
the sports of the boys in the play-ground.
Suddenly—when the master was absorbed in
his occupations, he leaped into the midst of
them, with a shout at his achievement. ‘Now
let him punish me again, if he can!’’ and he
ran backward, throwing up his arms, and
shouting in defiance, when—his voice suddenly
ceased; there was a heavy plunge, and a hor-
WILL WINSLOW. 25

rible groan broke on the ears of his bewil
dered companions.

Now it so happened, that the well, of which
we have before spoken, was undergoing re-
pairs, and the workmen were then at a dis-
tance, collecting their materials. Carelessly
the well was left uncovered, and at the very
moment of his triumph, Will Winslow was
precipitated backward into the opening. A
cry of horror burst from the assembled boys,
who rushed to the spot, and Charles Mans-
field, the bravest of them all, was the first to
seize the well-rope, tie it around his waist and
descend to the rescue. The well was deep;
fortunately, however, the water at the time
was mostly exhausted, but Will lay motion-
less at the bottom. Carefully he lifted him,
and with one arm around his apparently life-
less form, and the other upon the rope, he
gave the signal, and was slowly drawn to the
top. The livid face of the wicked boy filled
his companions with a supernatural horror;
and in perfect silence, they bore him to the
house of the poor woman, which was close at

8
26 LITTLE GEMS.

hand. She had witnessed the accident from
her window, and upon her crutch hastened to
meet them. And now Will Winslow was in
the humble home, and upon the lowly bed of
her whom he had assailed with cruelty and
scorn; and faithfully she obeyed the com-
mandment of Him who said: “Do good to
them that hate you, and pray for them which
despitefully use you and persecute you.”
Silently her prayers ascended to God for the
sufferer. Her little vials of camphor and
other restoratives, provided by charitable
neighbours, were emptied for his relief. She
took from her scanty store bandages for his
head, which was shockingly mangled and
bleeding ; and she herself, forgetful of all but
his sufferings, sat down and tenderly bathed
his hands and his forehead, while some of the
boys ran for a surgeon, and others for the
master. The injury to the head was sup-
posed to be the only one he had sustained;
and after the surgeon had done his work, the
poor boy was borne away on a litter, to his
home, still insensible, and surrounded by his
WILL WINSLOW. 27

companions mute with emotion. That day
was destined to make an impression upon the
School, its master, and all who heard of the
awful catastrophe, so manifestly was it a
judgment from God.

A few hours later, and groups of boys col-
lected in the play-ground. Their conversa-
tion was in whispers; horror sat upon every
face; all were pale and awe-stricken. Charles
Mansfield approached. ‘How is poor Will,
now? have any of you heard?”

“Oh! Charlie,” several exclaimed at once,
as they gathered around him.

“Qh! don’t you know? haven’t you heard?
Why he has opened his eyes and is able to
speak, but his back is broken.”

Charles clasped his hands, lifted them high
in the air and uttered not a word, but burst
into tears. For a few minutes he yielded to
his emotion, and then, still pale and grief-
stricken, but with a manly voice, he said to
his companions:

“Boys, shall we ever forget the lesson of
this day ?”
28 LITTLE GEMS.

And Will,—words would be feeble to por-
tray his agony of body and mind, as he lay
for long months upon his bed of suffering, but
when he arose therefrom, with a feeble and
distorted body, and a scar like the mark of
Cain upon his forehead, he was changed in
heart also, crushed in spirit, humble and con-
trite. Repentance had had its perfect work,
and when he became convalescent and his
school-mates came to congratulate him on his
recovery, he threw his arms around the neck
of each, and burst into tears, but could
not speak, except to whisper, “ Forgive—for-
give.”

At his request the poor woman became the
tenant, rent free, of a cottage belonging to
his father; and his mother constantly admin-
istered to her wants. As soon as he could do
so, he wrote to her, humbly pleading for for-
giveness; and in return she gave to him her
blessing. From this time, one half of his
ample quarterly allowance was bestowed upon
her; he visited her in her loneliness, and at
last’ made his peace with God, declaring his
“gop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 29

punishment just—henceforth to be a cripple
and a hunchback !

Youthful readers, let the history of Will
Winslow impress your hearts. Revere the
aged, whether they be in poverty or affluence,
and feel it a privilege to administer to them
in their infirmities, as they have done to you,
in the weakness and helplessness of infancy.
It is the only recompense which youth can
make to age, and God will bless the youthful
heart which bows down in reverence before
the hoary head.

“GOD’S LITTLE CHILD.”

THE day was just breaking, when the post-
coach from Strasburg drove into Paris, and
the passengers, yawning and stretching, ex-
pressed their joy in different ways. ‘“ Well,”
said one man, “ Paris at last !’’

“Ts this Paris ?”’ asked a-sweet little voice

from one corner. Every one turned to look,
3%
80 LITTLE GEMS.

and there sat a pretty little creature of six
years old, with a bright, fresh face, soft blue
eyes, and golden curls clustering about her
head.

“ What a dear little creature!” “ What a
pretty child!” ‘ What a little angel!” Such
were their delighted exclamations.

“ Are you all alone, little one ?’’ asked one.

“Yes, all alone,”’ replied the child, with a
bright smile. ‘In Strasburg mamma took
me to the stage-house, and the conductor pro-
mised to take me safely to Paris. And he
has kept his word, for here lam. Mamma
said God would take care of me, for I’m his
child, you see; she gave me to him as soon
as ever I was born.”

In a few moments every one was busy with
his own affairs, and forgot the child. The
conductor placed her on one side, and told
her to wait patiently until he got through,
and then he would take her to her uncle.

She obeyed, and waited until the last pas-
senger was gone. Then the man came to-
wards her and said, ‘“‘ Now, little one, let’s
“qoD’s LITTLE CHILD.” 81

have the letter. I have just had orders to go
on with another coach to Lyons; so I can’t
go with you to your uncle; but I will give you
toa kind, trustworthy man. So, the letter;
quick, the letter !’’

“Oh! yes; here it is!’ and she put her
hand in her pocket, then drew it out, and
looked confounded. ‘It’s gone! I put it
here last night, and it’s gone! It must have
fallen on the floor of the coach !”

“You don’t mean that!” said the man;
“and the coach is half way back to Stras-
burg by this time. But tell me your uncle’s
name; I have but five minutes ; indeed, there
comes my coach now! Quick—your uncle’s
name !”’

“T don’t know it,” said the child; “it was
on the letter, but that’s lost!”

All this time the coach was approaching.
It distressed the man to leave a child like that
alone in Paris; but he said his situation de-
pended on his going; he dared not even de-
tain the vehicle two minutes. ‘God help

y

you, poor little one!” he murmured, sprang
32 LITTLE GEMS.

into the coach, and rattled off. The child im-
plored him wildly not to leave her alone, but
he dared not stay.

Sitting down again upon the bench, she
cried at first bitterly; but suddenly a new
thought entered her mind. “I will go back
to mamma,” said she, and getting up, she
went up to a person whom, by his uniform,
she knew to be the superintendent of the line.

“Tf you please, sir,” said she, “I want to
go to Strasburg; will you ask some of the
conductors to take me?”

“You to Strasburg? What for, you little
monkey ?”’ was the reply.

“‘T want to go back to mamma, sir, if you
please. Do let one of them take me.”

“Very well, but I suppose you have
money ?”

* Oh, yes, two frances ;” and the child looked
quite delighted. “I shan’t want to eat and
drink more than that will buy.”

‘You little fool, I mean to pay your pas-
sage. Is two francs all you’ve got?”

“Not a bit more, sir; but do let them take
““gop’S LITTLE CHILD.”’ 33

me; I won’t take up a bit of room. Tl
squeeze away in the corner, or I'll creep under
the seat; only take me back to mamma!”

With a harsh voice and brutal words the
man drove the trembling child from the place,
and bade her “ go off.”’

“T don’t know where to go,” said she; “I
don’t know any one in Paris, and mamma's
in Strasburg,” and she sat down again and
sobbed aloud.

“None of your howling there, I tell you!
Go along and beg, if you can’t do anything
else,’’ and again he drove her off. The poor
child walked away, she neither knew nor
cared where; she was only thinking how to
get back to Strasburg. At last, overcome
with hunger and fatigue, she sat down on a
stone and began to cry bitterly. The streets
were full of people, and ail who passed looked
round at her, but no one spoke to her, until
there came by a boy of about twelve years
old, leading a donkey, to which was fastened
a wagon loaded with coal.

“Coals! coals! very cheap!”’ cried the lit-
34 LITTLE GEMS.

tle merchant; then, seeing the weeping child,
he stopped, and demanded what was the
matter. °

In a few simple words she told her story.

“So, you see,” said she, “since I can’t
find my uncle, I must go back to Strasburg.”

“Tell me your uncle’s name, dear. I'll
find him for you,” said the boy.

“Oh! if I only knew it myself. It was on
the letter, but that’s lost. I wish God would
take care of me, as mamma said he would, for
I'm his little child!’ and she sobbed afresh.

“Don’t ery, little girl, Tell me what your
name is.”

‘*My name’s Madeleine,” said the child,
“and mamma lives in Strasburg. Oh! I wish
I had stayed with her and not come to Paris !”

‘“‘Madeleine is a very pretty name,” said
the boy. ‘‘Mine’s Pierre, and my mamma is
called Madame Thierry. But come home
with me; she is very, very good, and will
take care of you, and we'll send back to
Strasburg for another letter.”

Delighted at this idea, little Madeleine
“qop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 35

dried her tears, and gladly allowed Pierre to
lift her up on the top of the load of coal,
over which he first spread his coat, and, chat-
ting merrily, they soon reached the humble
cottage of Madame Thierry.

The kind woman gladly undertook the care
of the little stranger, and the next day Pierre
went to the stage-office to meet the Strasburg
coach and ask about the letter. The driver
did not know the child’s mother. The con-
ductor did, but had not yet returned from
Lyons; so they must wait.

Meantime, one day there came a terrible
storm; even Pierre could not go abroad; it
was fearful. To while away the time, the
children got around Madame Thierry, and
begged from her a story of “old times,” as
they called it.

“Well,” said she, “I'll tell you one that
troubles me yet. Now listen:

“You have heard of the dreadful times
called ‘the Revolution.’ Some unkind actions
of the King and his nobles to the people made
them yery angry, and some wicked men took
36 LITTLE GEMS.

advantage of it. They told them that kings
had no more right to be rich than they had,
and persuaded them that it would be a most
excellent thing to kill all who were rich, and
share their money among those who were not.
By this kind of talk they worked upon them
to such an extent that the people acted as if
they were crazy, and imprisoned and killed
every rich man they could find—the good as
well as the bad. Now, at this time I was
living as nursery-maid with a fine old noble-
man, the Count St. Foie. His family was a
wife and one little daughter—both as sweet
and lovely as they could be. ‘They were all
always doing good, and a poor man, whom
they had greatly helped, gave them notice of
the outbreak in time to enable them to send
away to a safe place a great deal of their
money.

“The Count and Countess, however, were
both afterwards taken and killed, and their
last words to me were: ‘Jenny, save Marion!’

“Marion was their little daughter, then
twelve years old. Her governess, at the first
“‘gop’S LITTLE CHILD.” 37

alarm, had thrown into a valise some of the
child’s clothes, and all the money and jewels
she could find. With these I succeeded in
getting away with her to the poor man’s hut
—the one who had given notice to the Count
—and there we disguised ourselves before
going farther. Then we made our way to
the river, where Thomas, to whom I was soon
to be married, was waiting with a boat. I
got her to Lyons, and put her in the care of
a former housekeeper of the Count’s, and one
I knew to be devoted to him. There I left
her, and went back to see if I could save any-
thing more.

“Dreadful, dreadful sights did I see there!
But at last things became quiet, and matters
had been going on smoothly for some years,
when one day I had a call from a visitor. An
elegant-looking officer came to see me, (I was
nursing Pierre then,) and said he was the
Count Narbonne, the young brother of Ma-
rion’s mother, and when the Revolution broke
out had been in Spain. Here he had been
so fortunate as to do the king many services,

4
38 LITTLE GEMS.

and he, in return, had not only richly re-
warded him, but obliged the French Govern-
ment to give him back the property the Re-
volutionists had taken from the family. He
was only just come home, and wished to find
his sister’s child. &

“T told him where I had left her, and he
went to see about her; but all he could learn
was that she had married a young officer, the
orphan son of one of the Count’s old friends.
He stood high in the German army, but was
not rich, and had taken her to Germany,
where his regiment was. Since that the old
woman said she had heard that the young
officer had been killed, and that Marion
and a little daughter were living in Stras-
burg.

“The Count went there, but could not find
her; then he came here, and left word where
I should send to him if I heard more of her.
But I have never heard a word,” said the
worthy woman, with tears in her eyes. ‘Dear
Miss Marion, how I would love to see her and
her little one! Her uncle comes every now
“Gop’s LITTLE CHILD.” 39

and then to ask, and has all her property
safe for her; but *

Here she was interrupted by a faint knock
at the door. She rose in haste to open it,
and a young but miserable woman, drenched
with the storm and exhausted by hunger and
fatigue, fell, fainting, across the door. Gently
lifting and taking her towards the fire, she
opened her eyes and spoke, and the next mo-
ment, with a shriek of joy, little Madeleine
was hanging round her neck. It was her
mother! The sight and voice of the child
revived her even more than the warmth and
shelter, When she had eaten and been
strengthened by a glass of warm tea, she told
the story of her fears and sufferings. She
had gone to the coach-office to inquire if her
child had reached Paris safely, and while
there, the letter was found in the coach. A
passenger by another coach told, in her hear-
ing, of the brutal conduct of the superinten-
dent to a beautiful child who seemed alone
and friendless, and from his description she
knew at once that it was Madeleine.


40 LITTLE GEMS.

Without a cent in the world, or the means
of getting one, (for she had sold her last ring
to pay her child’s passage-money,) she set out
on foot. After getting to Paris and finding
no tidings of the child at the office, she walked
on, inquiring of all she met for her; but in
vain. At last, overcome by want and fatigue,
and unable any longer to breast the storm,
she lay down to die, and was praying for her
child, when a woman, in passing, stopped and
spoke to her. From her she learned that
Madame Thierry had taken in a little stranger,
and hope gave her strength to go a little
farther.

After resting, she began to tell the good
woman the story of her life; but hardly had
she said a dozen words, when her hostess
jumped up, exclaiming: ‘‘Miss Marion! dear,
dear Miss Marion!’ It was indeed Marion,
and, leaving them together, Pierre slipped
out, and soon returned with the Count de
Narbonne.

The rest may be imagined. Restored to
wealth, Jenny and her son were placed in im-
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 41

portant situations in their household, and
always treated as old and dear friends. Lit-
tle Madeleine often whispered, when she felt
uncommonly happy; “Mamma, I’m so glad
I was God’s little child! Hasn’t he taken
good care of me?”

THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE only youthful inmate of a large, old
fashioned house, in an ancient town, in the
very centre of Old England, was Maria
Walker. She lived with her grandmother
and two maiden aunts, whom she would have
called very old indeed, though they by no
means were of the same opinion.

She was, however, a very happy child,
though she durst not make any noise except
in her own play-room at the top of the house.
Of course she had her troubles like all other

little girls, even those whose voices are never
4 *
42 LITTLE GEMS.

checked; and she used to get into sad scrapes
sometimes; but then she used to get out of
them, and she was neither perplexed by re-
grets for the past nor fears for the future.
The very first serious difficulty Maria could
recollect finding herself in, occurred one day
when grandmother and both aunts were gone
out to dinner; an event of very rare occur-
rence, and of momentous interest in the family.
Both aunts had some scruples about the pro-
priety of leaving Maria so very long alone,
for company dinners at Oldtown were cele-
brated at two o’clock; but as neither of them
seemed for a moment to contemplate the pos-
sibility of staying at home to take care of her,
their anxieties assumed the form of strict
injunctions to Mrs. Martha, the housekeeper,
on no account to let her go out of her sight.
Maria was in general a very good little
girl, and if she had been allowed to have her
childish curiosity reasonably gratified, the
desire that filled her mind would have had no
place there. But Aunt Charlotte so invari-
ably insisted that little girls were never al-
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 43

lowed to ask questions, for that when they
grew up they would know everything that
was good for them to know; and she had very
recently smarted so severely under the laugh-
ter of her aunts, when she had asked if rivers
had teeth as well as mouths, that she resolved
she would ask no questions, but try to find out
for herself what at present she so much wished
to know.

Maria’s education had been far from ne-
glected. She could read very well—had be-
gun to learn to write, and had received les-
sons in geography and history, though, from
the dry, tedious manner in which they were
administered, her ideas of time and space
were very confused. She had formed a theory
of her own, that all celebrated persons of dif-
ferent countries, whose names began with the
same sound, were cotemporaries ; that, for in-
stance, Queen Anne and Hannibal, Queen
Mary and Marius, Brutus and Bruce the
traveller, might have known each other if
they had but lived near enough. Her ideas
of geography were not much less vague, as
44 LITTLE GEMS.

may be inferred from the fact, that she be-
lieved certain mounds in the churchyard to
be really what Mrs. Martha asserted them to
be, the graves of the infants slaughtered by
Herod. Her grandmother told all her friends
what very great pains she took to give Maria
good principles. Her lectures on these points
might all be reduced to four heads, namely:
to put everything in its proper place, to do
everything in its proper time, to be genteel,
and hate the French.

It will not be surprising that, with such
training, the perusal of the Pilgrim’s Pro-
gress, a copy of which had recently been pre-
sented to her, gave an entirely new bias to
her thoughts. Sorely puzzled was she to
guess how much of it might be true, when,
one day, as they were riding out in the car-
riage, she saw at a little distance from the
road a very handsome house. On some one
asking the name of it, she did not hear the
answer distinctly, but was quite sure she
heard the word Beautiful, and as they im-
mediately began to descend a hill, she at once
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 45

concluded that it was the palace Beautiful,
and that the hill was the hill Difficulty. One
great point was now ascertained, that there
were really such places; but she began to
be sorely distressed when it occurred to her
that they were travelling in the wrong direc-
tion from what they ought to be going.

Oldtown was a place where fewer changes
occurred than in more populous and modern
places, and Maria scarcely recollected ever to
have heard of any one’s leaving it. Certainly
she had never heard of any one going on a
pilgrimage ; and she wondered very much how
her aunts, who had told her the Pilgrim’s
Progress was so very good a book, should
have read it without thinking it necessary to
take the advice it conveyed.

The rector of the parish happened to call
the very next day at Mrs. Walker’s, and as
he was going away, inquired so kindly after
the little girl, that she was called in from the
garden to see him. He asked what book it
was she was reading, and when she said it
was the Pilgrim’s Progress, he stroked her
46 LITTLE GEMS.

head, and said he hoped she would not delay
setting out on her pilgrimage till she was as
old as Christian, adding that a youthful pil-
grim was the most interesting object he knew.
This last observation was addressed to her
aunts, who assented to it, as they did to
everything Mr. Roberts said, and it confirmed
the resolution Maria had already taken, of
setting out alone. The day she fixed upon
was the one in which her grandmother and
aunts went to the dinner party.

The housekeeper suffered her to amuse her-
self in the garden, while she entertained some
friends. She thus slipped away unperceived.
She was soon missed, and Mrs. Martha and
her guests spent the afternoon in the greatest
distress, searching all over the fields and for-
ests in the neighbourhood. When the ladies
came home, they were terribly alarmed for
poor Maria. They blamed the housekeeper,
reflected on their own imprudence, and mourned
over the poor girl’s rashness. A boy soon
brought a little shoe which had belonged to
Maria, but he could not tell where it was
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 41

found. Many tears were shed over it that
night, which was a time of mourning for the
poor lost girl.

But it is time that we should return to
Maria. When she made up her mind to set
out, it was a distressing thought to her that
she knew not the direction in which to turn
for the purpose of finding the path which she
was to pursue, and she was determined to ask
no one by the way, for fear of encountering
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. The road by which
they came in the carriage, she knew, did not
bring them through the Wicket Gate. She
concluded, therefore, that there must be some
different route through the fields to the foot
of the hill Difficulty, which she could distinctly
sce from the garden; so she resolved to make
her way through the fields for the chance of
finding it; but should she not succeed in get-
ting there by the right path, she would at any
rate get there; and when she reached the
porter’s lodge, at the gate of the palace, she
would there ask them to take her back to the
beginning of the path, which she was sure
48 LITTLE GEMB.

some of them would do. She set out, then,
expecting every moment to hear her name
called from behind her; for she remem-
bered that Christian’s friends were clamorous
that he should return, and she naturally sup-
posed hers might be so too; but she was
firmly resolved to pursue the same course that
he did, and put her fingers in her ears, that
she might not hear.

She had her misgivings, certainly, as to
the propriety of leaving home, but then she
thought Mr. Roberts had so distinctly recom-
mended her journey, that her aunts could not
blame her very much, particularly as it had
not escaped her observation how cordially
they had agreed with him as to the necessity
of it; and they had so often on a Sunday
evening exhorted her to do, during the week,
all that Mr. Roberts had enforced in his ser-
mons, that she thought, or tried to think, that
for once they would have no cause to com-
plain. She scrambled over or through seve-
ral hedges, without seeing anything at all like
a path through the fields; she still fancied
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 49

she was gaining upon the hill, and she thought
if she reached the palace they would allow
her to sleep there, although she had not come
in by the Wicket Gate, since she really wished
to go through it; and she amused herself by
wondering whether she should sleep in the
same room where Christian had slept, and
whether they would give her any armour, or
whether it was only worn by men pilgrims.

She was interrupted in her reverie by see-
ing a number of cows running, as she feared,
towards her; so she began to run too, and it
was not till she had climbed the gate into the
next field that she missed one of her shoes,
which had fallen off in her rapid flight—that
same shoe which caused so much lamentation
at home. She durst not go back to look for
it, as a dog was still chasing the cows; but
she thought she could manage to walk without
it, as the grass was so very soft, and she was
sure either Prudence, Piety, or Charity would
give her a new one.

At last she reached the high road, and be-

gan to ascend the hill. By this time she was
5
50 LITTLE GEMS.

very tired, very sleepy, and very hungry; but
she remembered Christian had felt sleepy here
also; and she resolved, however tired, not to
sleep in the arbour, for which, however, she
looked in vain, and concluded it had been
pulled down; she could not help feeling very
glad of it, as with her tired little limbs it cer-
tainly would have been very difficult to resist
the temptation.

She was very much shocked to see how
nany people were coming down the hill, and
that no one but herself was ascending it. At
length she saw two tall, big men, apparently
running a race down, and her little heart beat
more rapidly as she thought how very awful
the lions must look; for if these were not
Timorous and Mistrust themselves, she did
not for a moment doubt that they were terri-
fied in the same manner.

She had not seen any lions the day they
passed in the carriage, and she had sometimes
almost ventured to hope that they no longer
existed; but how the poor little thing trem-
bled when, on reaching the bend of the road,
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 51

where it swept off to the lodge she had before
seen, there appeared, reposing under the shade
of two fine beech trees, two enormous lions!
Maria was no great naturalist, or she would
have perceived at once that they were made
of stone; but she never for a moment doubted
that they were really the lions! She stood
gazing and trembling for some time, continu-
ally repeating, ‘ The lions were chained, but
he saw not the chains;’’ and then, summoning
up all her courage, she ran swiftly between
them, passed through the gate, and knocked
with all her might at the door of the lodge.

It was opened by a tall, good-looking man;
and Maria, awestruck at beholding at length
one of the individuals of whom she had
thought so much, dropped a courtesy, and
said, “If you please, sir, are you Watchful?”

“Why, Miss, as to that,’ said the man,
smiling good-humouredly, “I hopes I be;
what did you please to want ?”’

“JT want Discretion, if you please, sir,”
replied Maria.

“T say, Miss,” said the man, looking over
*

52 LITTLE GEMS.

his shoulder at his wife, “Didst ever hear
the like of that?—here’s a little maiden says
as how she wants discretion. Well, I’ve seed
many a one as wanted it afore, but never one
as owned to it.”

A sharp-featured, vinegar-looking womap
now appeared, looking very unlike anything
Maria expected to see so near the house
Beautiful.

“So you want discretion, Miss, do you?
Well, I wonder if there’s anything else you
want?”

“T thought,” said Maria, trying to feel
brave, “I might be allowed to sleep either
here or at the palace.”

A private conversation now took place be-
tween the husband and wife, in which it was
agreed that he should take Maria to the
quality at the great house, as may be they
would make something of her. Maria felt
very proud when she found herself with her
hand in that of Mr. Watchful, and actually
on the way to the palace. Her guide left her
outside, while he asked to speak to Mrs.
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 53

Adams, to whom he said that the little lady’s
intellects seemed all of a heap together, it
was such a queer thing to hear a child like
her talk of want of discretion, though no
doubt it was all very true.

Mrs. Adams told him to get a horse ready,
that she might send him off to the friends of
the little girl, as soon as she could ascertain
who they were; and she came and led Maria
by the hand into the drawing-room so ten-
derly, and looked so very kindly, that Maria
began to feel quite re-assured.

She was delighted to see three young la-
dies in the room, who, of course, were Piety,
Prudence, and Charity. Mrs. Adams, as soon
as she had given her a large slice of bread
and butter, and some new milk, said, “ Now,
my dear, you'll tell us what your name is,
and who your papa and mamma are.”’

“My name, ma’am, is Maria Walker, but
I never had either a papa or mamma,” replied
Maria, with the utmost simplicity.

«And where do you live, dear?”

“At Oldtown, with my grandmother.”
5 *
54 LITTLE GEMS.

“And where were you going, my love?”

“I did not want to go farther than this
house to-night. I always intended to sleep
here.”

“ And does any one know you were coming
here?”

“No, ma’am. No one knew exactly that
I meant to come to-day; but our clergy-
man, Mr. Roberts, strongly advised me to
come, and he said I could not set out too
soon.”

“And what was your object in coming,
Maria?”

“T wished to set an example to all the peo-
ple in Oldtown,” was the answer; and both
Mrs. Adams and her daughters were quite at
a loss what to think of their little visitor.

Maria, however, had gained so much cour-
age, that she thought she might venture to
ask a few questions, and she began with,

Do many children come here, ma’am?”’

“Yes, sometimes we have children here.
We're all very fond of them, when they are
good.”
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 55

“And have you got any armour for little
girls, ma’am?”

This was almost too much for the gravity
of Mrs. Adams, but determined not to let her
see how much she was amused, she deter-
mined rather to encourage her in asking any
questions she pleased, hoping by that means
to obtain a clue to the very extraordinary
state in which her mind seemed to be.

“Oh no!” she said; “but why do you want
to know?

“T was afraid you had not,” said Maria;
and then looking very serious, “ Please, ma’am,
tell me is this house very near the Valley of
the Shadow of Death?”

“ My poor little child!’ said Mrs. Adams,
drawing her close to her and kissing her,
“that none of us can tell; it way be nearer
than we think.”

“But you won’t send me there to-night,
will you?” and the child half cried as she
asked the question, “You'll let me stay and
sleep here ?”’

“Yes, you shall, dear little wanderer, and
56 LITTLE GEMS.

I think you must need sleep very much, for
you look tired, and your little hand is very
hot.”

“T suppose nobody ever comes back here
that’s been through the Valley,”’ continued
the child, almost as if thinking aloud.

This touched a chord in every bosom pres-
ent, that thrilled through them, for their
mourning was yet new for one very dear to
them, who had been suddenly hurried through
that. valley of which Maria spoke.

“T think, ma’am,” said she, “it would be
a terrible thing for a little girl like me to go
there alone without any armour. Oh, please
let Piety go with me—O pray do!’ said the
child, wondering what she possibly could have
said that made them all cry so.

At this moment the porter arrived, to say
he was ready, and Mrs. Adams desired him to
tell Mrs. Walker her little Maria was safe,
but very tired, and she would either take her
home in the morning, or would be very happy
to see the ladies if they liked to come and
fetch her.
THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 57

“T don’t want to go home,” said Maria;
“T only want to go back as far as the Wicket
Gate, that I may begin at the beginning.”

“Oh, now I see it all!’ exclaimed she whom
Maria was sure must be Charity ; “ you dear,
delightful little creature, you’ve been reading
the Pilgrim’s Progress till your little head
is turned, as I’m sure mine would have been
at your age, if I had not had a good mamma
to explain all to me; and as you never had a
mamma, how could you know anything about
it?”

A few judicious questions now drew forth
from Maria the whole story of her pilgrimage,
and when her aunts arrived, before breakfast
the next morning, they were quite surprised
to find her looking so well, and happy, and
rational, as they had been very much fright-
ened by Mr. Watchful’s account of what he
called her light-mindedness and want of dis-
cretion.

Mrs. Adams begged she might be allowed
to stay a few days with them; and before the
time came for her departure, the beautiful al-
58 LITTLE GEMS.

legory which had so much perplexed her, was
made so very plain, that she thought she
must have been extremely stupid not to have
found out the meaning for herself.

‘My young readers will, I am sure, be glad
to hear that Maria, who has now little girls
of her own, has long since found the true
Wicket Gate, and is anxious to show to
others the privilege of being permitted to en-
ter it. Few, in the present day, have not
greater advantages than she had; and if any
are induced to ask themselves the question,
whether with superior instruction, they are
equally in earnest to obtain, in the days of
health, Piety for their companion through that
dark valley, which, sooner or later, all must
tread, my story will not have been written in
vain.
THE PEARL MERCHANT. 59

THE PEARL MERCHANT.

It was a beautiful evening in a little town
on the shores of the Red Sea. The setting
sun lighted up the clay-houses, and the even-
ing breeze fanned the turbans and the long
flowing robes of the people who had come to
the shore to refresh themselves after the toils
of the day. Just as the disk of the sun
touched the horizon, they saw a long train of
camels approaching. Men were riding on
some of them in little carriages, or on richly
embroidered saddles. Others carried on their
backs large bundles, and the cloths thrown
over them almost touched the ground. There
were men walking beside the camels leading
them, and a troop of horsemen on their white
Arab steeds were galloping round the train.
It was a caravan.

The people were glad to see this sight; for
this town was a noted place for pearls, and
the people who were riding on the camels
were coming to buy their pearls. So they in-
60 LITTLE GEMS.

vited the merchants to their houses, and the
rest of the caravan went to the inn. There
were no rooms there: it was simply a large
empty shed. But they unloaded their camels
and gave them their supper; and then they
spread their own mats on the floor and lay
down to sleep.

The next morning the little town was in
a great commotion. Every one who had any
pearls to sell took them to the market-place.
There they sat down on the ground, spread
their mats before them, and laid out their
oyster shells upon the mats. For pearls, as
you know, are found in oyster-shells; and
they would not open the shells, but sold them
to the merchants as they were.

The merchants soon arrived, and then the
business began. They went round to each
seller and examined his shells. They took
up one shell after another and held it up to
the light, and tried to open it and peep in-
side, and looked at the marks outside; and,
if they liked it, they sat down and bargained
for it. And thus the work went on.
THE PEARL MERCHANT. 61

There was one among the merchants who
made no purchases. He had been with the
caravan; but throughout the whole journey
he had spent nothing, and when they asked
him what he would buy, he said that he was
in search of a valuable pearl. This day he
walked about from place to place, taking up
a few shells occasionally, and putting them
down again with a melancholy look.

At last he came to one man who was sit-
ting among the rest. He took up one of his
shells in his hand to look at it. As he looked
at it his face brightened, till at length he
clasped his hands, and lifted up his eyes to
heaven. He had found what he was search-
ing for.

“What is the price of this shell?” he said,
to the owner.

“This shell,” replied the owner, “is be-
yond all price. Nothing but esteem for thee
could induce me to part with it. But out. of
love to thee, I will let thee have it: for two
hundred talents.”

“T will pay that sum,” said the other.

6
62 LITTLE GEMS.

The bystanders were astonished. They
had never known such a sum given for a pearl
shell before. But he was in earnest; and
witnesses were called to prevent any mistake.

That same day the merchant sold all his
goods. All the jewels which he had brought
for the purpose of his business, and all his
beautiful clothes, and even his camel, were
sold; so that nothing was left to him. In
the evening he came back to the owner of the
pearl and counted out the sum, and then,
after carefully examining the shell, he took it
away with him to the inn. All the town was
in wonder; some said he was a magician, but
others shook their heads, and said that he
was mad.

The caravan soon started on their journey
home, and with them the poor merchant. He
had no camel to ride, and hardly any food to
eat. He was forced to walk all the way;
and he would have perished with hunger if it
had not been for the kindness of some of his
fellow-travellers, who took pity upon him.
He got many hard words, and many blows;
THE PEARL MERCHANT, 63

but still-he was cheerful and contented, for
he could think of nothing but his pearl.

At length the caravan reached the great
city where the.king lived; and the merchants
began to prepare the merchandise. But many
of them were sadly disappointed. Some found
that their shells, which they had carried all
the way from the sea-coast, were empty.
Others found‘ that the pearls which, when
they first came out of their shells, were pure
white, had turned yellow, and were of little
value.

But the merchant who had sold everything
that he had to buy his pearl, came forth with
joy from the trial. This pearl was pure
white. There was not a spot upon it. It
was perfectly round, and larger than any that
had ever been seen. The despised merchant
was now the first man in the city. He sold
his pearl to the king for an immense sum,
and became a rich man. Those who had ill-
treated him were glad to beg his favour, and
he did not forget those who had been kind to
him. And for years afterwards the merchant
64 LITTLE GEMS.

and his valuable pearl were remembered and
talked of.

We are all seeking for a pearl; and that
pearl is happiness. Some seek it in riches.
They give themselves no rest. They sit up
late at night, and they rise up early in the
morning, in order to get rich, and sometimes
they succeed. But often riches take to them-
selves wings and flee away; and if not, they
die and leave their riches. Their pearl shell
is empty.

Others again seek their happiness in plea-
sure. They spend their whole life in amuse-
ment, and never look beyond the present day.
But they soon get tired of their amusements,
and then they try new ones, until they have
gone through all they can get, and then they
have nothing to look to. And when they
get old they cannot enjoy their pleasures any
more. Their pearl has lost its lustre.

But others seek their happiness in religion.
They confess their sins and ask that they
may be forgiven for Christ’s sake; and God
hears their prayers. Then they have a peace
THE PEARL hencuaNr. 65

which nothing in this world can give. They
lie down at night with the thought that their
sins are pardoned; and through every day
God fills their heart with joy. Their riches
cannot flee away; for they are laid up in
heaven. Their happiness can never grow old;
for the peace which Christ gives is not like
that which the world gives. And when they
die their happiness will not end.

After death its joys shall be,

Lasting as eternity ;

Be the living God my friend,
Then my bliss will never end.

This is the “pearl of great price:” and
who would not seek this happiness? Who
would not make it the first thing?

“For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a
merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: who
when he had found one pear] of great price,
went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”
Matt. xiii, 45, 46.

g *
66 LITTLE GEMS.

THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH
PROMISE.

/ “Don’t go on the river to-night, James,”
said Widow Bright to her son a few weeks
ago.

“ Why not?”

“Because it is unsafe. The weather has
been mild for several days, and I have myself
heard the ice crack two or three times, al-
though it is half a mile away.”

“Poh, mother, you women are such scary
creatures. Why, Dick Colton and I skated
there all the afternoon, and the ice was as
strong as a bridge.”

“But, my son, it has been growing tender
all the while under the warm wind, and you
cannot see, this dark evening, to avoid the
thin places.”

“Just one hour, mother.’’

‘Not one moment, my son.”

“Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle
—tied to my mother’s apron strings!’’ shouted
}

4
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 67

Harry, very red in the face, and rushed ont
of the room, banging the door after him.

“Oh dear!” sighed good Mrs. Bright, as
she leaned her head thoughtfully upon her
hands. clasped fingers, and she looked, as she sat
there, like a very careworn, anxious mother.
And so she was. She was a widow, and
Harry her only child. ,“‘kte was a bright-faced
boy of thirteen, quick-witted, impulsive, and
kind-hearted. But oh! he was so daring, so
impetuous, so self-willed. He loved his mo-
ther dearly ; but he loved his own way better.
He would do much, very much for her com-
fort, but he would doa great deal more for
the carrying out of any wild plan of his own.

His mother saw his faults, She reasoned
with him, plead with him, and what was far
better, prayed for him. She was cheered too
by a firm hope; for bright, from out the mire
and dirt of the boy’s nature, shone that pur-
est of gems, Truth.

There are a great many boys like Harry
Bright, “Perhaps one of them is just now
68 LITTLE GEMS.

reading this story. Well, I do not care how
sparkling your face is, how quick your brain
is; if you are ever unkind to your gentle mo-
ther, if you ever give her sad moments, or
bring tears of sorrow to her eyes, you have a
bad spot in your heart; and every time you
grieve her, you forfeit one more claim to God’s
glorious promise.
.,' Harry did not feel just right, when he got
out of doors. The evening was quite dark,
but the sky was thickly studded with stars,
and the air was soft and balmy. It was in-
deed just such an evening as would ordinarily
have set Harry’s brain all aglow with bright
dreams. But on this evening it was alto-
gether otherwise. He stole up to the window
and pee in, then sat down on the end of
the door-stone, leaned his head on his hands,
just as his mother was doing inside, and be-
gan to cry.
“He was listening to his good angel then;
and had nothing untoward happened, he would
propaga gone in, asked his mother’s for-
giveness, and passed a happy evening with
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 69

her. But just as Harry was making up his
mind so to do, there came a shrill whistle at
the garden gate. It was Dick Colton, calling
him to the skating-ground. Jarry gave no
answer, but drew his sleeve quickly two or
three times across his eyes.q3 Dick whistled
once more, and then came“to the corner of
the house and peeped round.

“Halloa, there!’ he shouted, “are you
asleep or dead? Come, there are~half a
dozen more boys going on to the river, and
we shall have capital fun.”

“T can’t,” said Harry, faintly.
_2#Can’t!” repeated Dick, coming up to
him; “what do you mean? Been crying
too, I'll bet a sixpence. Ha, ha, that’s a
good one. My mother said, You shan’t go,
and I said, I will. Come, boo-baby, cut your
mother’s apron-strings and run.”

Harry did not relish being called a boo-
baby. His cheeks grew as red as his eyes;
he Kréathed quick, clenched his fists, and
would have struck Dick, had not that artful
boy turned the tide by a touch of flattery.
70 LITTLE GEMS.

“Tt is too bad though, Harry, that such a
good-natured fellow and capital skater as you
are, can’t have a little fun now and then of
an evening.”

Now Harry, like the rest of you boys,
liked to be called a good-natured fellow, and
liked Dick, at the time, for doing it. So
Harry parleyed a while with the tempter, and
then did what people always do, who parley
with sin//he made a compromise with Dick,
and contfuded to go down to the river side
and look on, whilst the other boys skated.
Another breach of God’s command, another
forfeiture of the glorious promise. Dick Col-
ton and the rest of the boys strapped on their
skates, and started off in fine style. Harry
took Dick’s shawl and spread it out at the
foot of the great elm tree, which overhung
the river, and sat down upon it. He looked
up./ “Whrough the leafless branches the sky
shone blue and clear, begemmed with stars.
Up and down the bank, as far as he. could
see, little bushes nudged and crowded each
other, and leaned far over on the frozen stream.
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 71

A very pleasant river bank they had al-
ways made for him before; but now they grew
weird and grim, in the dim light, and the tall
forest beyond them was full of gloom. The
boys had gone far down the river, and Harry
grew so very lonely, he thought he could not
stand it any longer, and had just made up his
mind to go home to his mother, -when he was
startled by the crackling of the bushes behind
him. It was only Dick Colton’s dog, how-
ever, that jumped out of the underbrush on
to Harry’s neck, and began to wag his tail,
as much as to say, “ You are not such a bad
boy after all.” Harry was glad just then to
have the caresses of any living thing; so he
hugged the dog until he barked for pain.
Suddenly there came up the river a shrick, so
clear, so shrill and wild,/-Harry started up
in terror. Skating towérds him, as for dear
life, he saw five boys. Where was the
sixth?

“Oh, come quick,” they shouted to Harry,
“Dick will drown. He has broken through
the ice. Oh, do come.”
72 LITTLE GEMS.

Harry was a quick-witted boy. “Your
skates,” he called to the smallest boy. They
were off and buckled on again in a twinkling.
Harry snatched the shawl, and in less time
than I am writing this, was far down the
river.

“ “Stop, stop,’ screamed the boy behind
im, “there he is. You will be in after him.”
And so he might, had not the stalwart fellow
caught Harry by the arm, and thrown him
somersault upon the ice. The thin crust
cracked beneath them, and they were obliged
to creep very carefully. Poor Dick was in a
fearful plight. Yet Providence had given
him a fragile hold upon life. In an Autumn
gale, a tall tree had been dislodged from the
shelving shore, and had fallen into the stream,
which was here both broad and deep. £ Upon
the outermost branch of: this tree, slefder and
frail, Dick supported himself. He did not
try to reach the ice, for he knew that it would
break off at his touch; so that his only hope
lay in the overhanging tree. He was a wise
boy to send for sharp, brave Harry, who did






























































































ari



























































































































THE RESCUR. Page 72.
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. 73

just what you must do in a like trial. He
crept as near the hole as he durst, and laid
flat upon the ice; then he made another stout
boy lie down behind him and take hold of his
heels. “Thereupon he threw a corner of the
shawl to Dick, who by the help of that, made
out to reach the firm trunk of the tree, upon
which he easily clambered on to the stronger
ice.

There was no more skating that night.
Dick’s little dog clapped his tail between his
legs, and walked behind his drenched master,
whining piteously. Harry, sobered and sad-
dened, went straight home, and Jaid open his
heart to his mother. ‘Oh, if it had been me,
dear mother,” said he, ‘show I should have
thought of my unkindness to you! Can I
ever treat you so again ?”’

“God helping you, my son, you will not,”
said the widow, her eyes filling with tears.

And Harry did,I trust, thereafter, try to
fulfil the full meaning of that holy command-
ment with promise. I wish, too, that Dick
Colton’s heart had been washed clean in that

7
74 LITTLE GEMS.

cold river; but poor Dick was but a sorry
fellow at best. He was laid up a long time
with a fever, brought on by the exposure of
that night, and for more than a year was
barely able to hobble about. When I last
saw him he had just shipped on board of a
merchantman, bound for China.

More than one praying mother holds the
poor waif in remembrance; and I have strong
faith of good news of him some day.

Honour thy father and mother, which is
the first commandment with promise.

JEM, THE SAILOR BOY.

““WauaT makes you so sad, Jem? You are
a dull companion when you ought to be mer-
riest. Here we are close in shore.”

The two boys were standing on the deck
of the “Saratoga,” as she swept gaily into
the port of New York.
JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 75

“T Lave no reason to be merry,” said Jem.
“Tt has been a sad voyage to me.”

“Sad! Why we have had some pleasant
times together.” *

“And yet I have not been happy a mo-
ment since I left New York.”

“Well, what is it, Jem? Tell me now.”

“A guilty conscience, Will, that is all;
and that is enough, too, everybody knows.
Bad companionship has led to all my troubles,
and I have cried myself to sleep many a night
in my hammock.”

“Come now, Jem, and confess your sins, as
if I were a priest.” And Will tried to laugh
away his sadness, but in vain; he still gazed
thoughtfully at the sunset over the water, and
continued silent. ‘Jem, we have always
been good friends since we met on ship-board,
and friends should always tell each other their
troubles,”

“It is of no use, Will. You are going home
to meet your father and mother; and I—”

‘Well, if you have no home, that is no
Teason for a guilty conscience.”
76 LITTLE GEMS.

*“ But, Will, I ran away from it, and J
have never been really happy since.”’

The boys stood leaning over the railing,
and looking down into the‘water; as it parted
before the prow, and broke into myriads of
foam-crested waves, the silence grew deeper
and deeper. At length it was broken by Jem,
and in the hope of relieving his mind, he re-
lated to Will the circumstances of his child-
hood. His mother had died in his infancy,
and his grandmother had had the charge of
his early training. His father, a poor but
honest man, had endeavoured to instil good
principles into the mind of his son; but as he
grew up he became wayward and passionate;
a bad companion in the neighbourhood had
counteracted all home influences, and made
him restless and impatient of restraint.

They urged him to go to the Sunday-school;
Jem rebelled, because his companion told
him that it was “pleasantest to go out into
the fields on Sunday afternoons; it was bad
enough to study on week-days.” Time rolled
on, and even a removal from the neighbour-
JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. TT

hood did not separate them. The boy fol-
lowed Jem wherever he went, and finally, in an
evil hour, induced him to run away with him,
and ship as an apprentice on board a sloop of
war.

He was then fourteen years old. The
vessel was to sail immediately, so that Jem
had no time for reflection or repentance.
They had been at sea but one aveek, when his
companion fell from the mast-head upon the
deck, and was killed. Then it was that Jem,
terrified and conscience-stricken, as he looked
upon the mangled and bleeding body of him
who had acquired such an ascendancy over
him, awoke to a sense of his own guilt.

The chaplain, observing his distress, ob-
tained from him a confession of the circum-
stances, and availed himself of the opportunity
to influence him to a right course, and to fill
his mind with better thoughts and new resolu-
tions. Convinced of his penitence, he com-
forted him with the promises of pardon which
the Bible offers to the penitent sinner; and

Jem was changed. Day and night the thought
7
78 LITTLE GEMS.

was on his mind of the distress which he had
caused to those who had loved him through
all his waywardness. How could he atone
for it? Would they forgive—would God for-
give him? Oh! could he only see his father
and his grandmother once again! Could he
only get back to that poor little homely
dwelling! It was too late. Jem must bear
his punishment; it was to be greater than he
anticipated.

They touched at a foreign port for supplies,
and from thence he wrote a letter to his
father, and told him all. The pages were
blotted with his tears, and for the time he
was relieved; but he was never to see that
father again; he told him where to address
his next fetter, and in due time he received
one, in the trembling hand of his poor heart-
broken grandmother. He broke the seal in
haste, and through all its bad spelling, and
crooked lines, he discovered the fact that his
father had been ill ever since he left; that
anxiety on his account had increased his
malady, and that his penitential letter had
JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 79

arrived only a few days before his death.
His most earnest earthly wish had been
for tidings of his son, and when they ar-
rived, and showed him penitent and resolved
to amend his life, and to atone for his sins,
he fervently tharked God “for his mercies to
his unworthy servant.” Then a deep serenity
had taken the place of his restlessness, and
when he yielded his spirit to his Maker, he
left his blessing for his prodigal but repentant
son. She also assured him of her forgiveness,
and hoped that he would come to her as soon
as the vessel returned; she would ‘“‘try to
keep the little old home till then, but her
means were very small.”

Jem’s sorrow was indeed bitter for his
father’s death, and his poor grandmother’s
desolation. He felt, for the time, that “his
punishment was greater than he could bear ;”’
and he went for consolation once mora to the
good chaplain, who prayed with and for him,
and offered him all the soothing influences
of religion. He felt that he deserved the
trials which God had sent upon him, and in
80 LITTLE GEMS.

daily petitions for strength and guidance, he
awaited the end of the voyage. The months
passed slowly on; and, faithful to his duty,
he continued go, also, to his new resolves.
At another port, Will Fowler had joined the
vessel, and his ceaseless wit and merriment
had won Jem, in some degree, from his sor-
row; but his gaiety was only the ripple on
the surface: that there was an undercurrent
of deep feeling we have already seen.

-On his arrival, he hastened to the old
home. It had twice changed hands. Stran-
gers inhabited it. They knew nothing of its
former occupants. Broken-hearted, he turned
away. What should he do? How find his
poor and aged grandmother, who might be
starving even now? Where was she in this
wide world? Homeless perhaps, and friendless.

* * * * *
Onéhe steps of the Custom House in Wall
Street, sat an old woman with a little stand
before her, covered with a snow white cloth,
On it were piled pyramids of rosy apples,
polished like a mirror. The sale of these,
JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 81

with some candies, made her whole revenue.
There she sat knitting, knitting, the long
day through, in her neat calico dress, white
apron, and close cap, with a sun-bonnet drawn
over it; and the officials, as they passed in and
out, often stopped to drop some pennies into
her hand, in exchange for what her neat little
table offered them. She tried to be cheerful.
She tried to be submissive to God’s will; but
sometimes a tear would trickle down.over her
furrowed cheek and awaken sympathy for her
age and apparent sorrows. Then a larger
token of benevolence, in the shape of a half
dollar, or two shilling piece, would fall into
her little treasury. Sometimes, in her human
longings for the one being for whose sake
she yet clung to life, she would become ab-
stracted, and then the money would touch her
hand to recall her to consciousness.

“Oh! if I only knew where poor Jem is!
If these old eyes couldximly see him once
more! But, it_isn’t likéty—it isn’t likely.
I could not keep the old house any longer: a
little room in an attic must do for me now;
82 LITTLE GEMS.

and he won’t know where to find me.” Such
thoughts were continually in her mind, and
prayer for him was daily and hourly in her
heart and on her lips.

‘Well, good mother, can you spare some
of your red apples to-day?” and some pen-
nies fell upon her little table. She started at
the voice, and looked up; but she drooped
her head again, in disappointment. The
young sailor who addressed her, wore the
uniform of a ship-of-war. The white pants,
and blue jacket, the large blue shirt collar
with stripes, and the broad-brimmed straw
hat, and black ribbon with long ends, like
streamers, she had never seen before. He
had grown taller, too, during his two years
absence. ,

“May be you have been to foreign parts,
young man.”

“Yes, ma’am, I have.”

“Did you ever see a sailor, called Jem
Bogart, in your travels?”

“Jem Bogart! Let me look under that
big sun-bonnet of yours, if you please, ma’am,”’
JEM, THE SAILOR BOY. 88

and suiting the action to his words, he stooped
down suddenly, and gazed at her. Another
moment and she was clasped in the young
sailor’s arms, and held to his heart.

“So, grandmother, you don’t know poor
Jem, in all this ‘ toggery.’ ”

“Praise God! praise God! dear Jem! now
I can depart in peace.”

‘‘No, no, grandmother, all my earnings I
have saved for you, and I have found you at
last; after looking three days all over this
great city. I am tired of the sea; and now
I am going to live with you, and work for
you.”

“God bless you, my boy! and you will
not leave me any more?”

“No, grandmother, nothing but death shall
separate us. You have forgiven me, I know.”

“Yes, my boy, as I hope that God will
forgive me.”

The punishment of Jem had been severe,
but it had “wrought a good work in him,’’
and by a new life he proved his contrition for
the sins of the past.
84 LITTLE GEMS.

THE LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S
DAUGHTER.

A LIGHTHOUSE is @ high tower, or building,
the upper part of which is called ‘the lan-
tern,’ where lamps are lit at night. The
light of these lamps shines all night, to guide

_ ships on their way, and to show where danger
lies. The lighthouse seems to say, “Take
care, sailors, for rocks and sands are here.
Keep a good lookout, and mind how you sail,
or you will be lost.”

Two or three persons live in the lighthouse
to attend to the lamps. We will now look
into one of these buildings on the coast of
Cornwall.

Little Mary was in the lighthouse alone.
The night was coming on, and a storm was
rising on the sea. She heard the waves dash
against the rocks, and the wind moan round
the tower.

Mary’s father had trimmed the lamps, and
they were ready for lighting when the even-
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S BAUGHTER. 85

ing came on. But as he wanted to buy some
food, he crossed the-‘‘causey,” which leads to
the land. This causey was a pathway over
the rocks and sands, which could only be
passed for two or three hours in the day; at
other times the waters rose and covered it.
The father intended to hasten home before it
was dark, and before the tide flowed over this
path to the shore.

But where was Mary’s mother? She had
been dead for two or three years. She was a
pious woman, and often sat in the lonely
lighthouse with her little girl, teaching her to
read from a large old Bible. Then she used
to tell her of Jesus, the Lord of life and glory,
and how he came into the world, and died on
the cross to save sinners, and how he invites
the young to come to him, that they may be
happy.

Well, as we have said, the father of Mary
had gone on shore. He had told Mary not
to be afraid, for that he would soon return.
But there were some rough-looking men be-

hind a rock, who were watching Mary’s father,
8
86 e#LITTLE GEMS.

and seemed glad as they saw him go to the
land. Who were they?

These men were wreckers. They waited
about the coast, and if a vessel was driven by
a storm on the rocks, they rushed down—not
to help the poor sailors—but to rob and ill-
treat them, and to plunder the ship.

The wicked men knew that there was only
a little girl left in the lighthouse; and they
had a plan to keep her father on the shore all
the night. Some ships, filled with rich goods,
were expected to pass before the morning;
and they thought that, should the lamps in
the lighthouse not be lit, these vessels would
run upon the rocks and be wrecked, and then
the goods ‘would be their spoil.

How cruel and wicked these men must have
been to seek the ruin and death of the poor
sailors! But we see how true it is what the
Bible says: ‘‘ The heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked; who can
know it?”

Mary’s father had filled his basket with
bread and other things, and had prepared to
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. 87

return ; for it would soon be time to light the
lamps. As he drew nigh to the road leading
to the causey, the wreckers rushed from their
hiding-place, and threw him on’ the ground.
They quickly bound his hands and feet with
ropes, and carried him into a shed, there to
lie till the morning. It was in vain that he
cried to them to be set free; they only mocked
his distress. They then left him to the
charge of two men; while they ran back to
the shore.

“Oh, my sweet little Mary! what will you
do?” cried the father, as he lay in the shed;
“there will be no one to light the lamps ; many
ships may be wrecked, and hundreds of sailors
may be lost.

Mary looked from a narrow window in the ,
lighthouse toward the shore, thinking it was
time for her father to come back. The clock
in the little room had just struck six; and
she knew that the waters would soon rme up
to the causey.

An hour passed; the clock struck seven,
and Mary still looked toward the beach, but
88 LITTLE GEMS.

no father wds to be seen. By the time it was
eight, the tide was nearly over the pathway;
only bits of rock here and there were above
the waters, and they too were soon covered
over. ‘ Qh, father, make haste!” cried Mary
aloud, as though her father could hear her,
“have you forgotten your little girl?’ But
the only answer was the noise of the waters
as they rose higher and higher, and the roar
of the wind as it gave notice of the coming
storm.

Now Mary sat down and wept. Surely
there would be no lights that night, and many
a vessel would be cast ashore.

While Mary wept, she thought of what her
dear mother used to say, that we should look
to Jesus in every time of need. And in a
corner of the room she knelt and prayed for
help: “OQ Lord, show me what to do, and
bless my dear father, and bring him home
safe."

The water was now some feet above the
causey. The sun had set for more than an
hour. As the moon rose in the sky, black
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. 89

storm-clouds soon covered her from sight, and
then not a, star was seen. The wreckers
walked along the shore, looking for some ship
to strike on the coast. These men hoped that
the sailors, not seeing the lights, would think
that they were not near the coast, and would
be dashed on the rocks.

Just at this moment the thought came into
Mary’s mind that she would try to light the
lamps. But what could a little girldo? The
lamps were far above her reach. She, how-
ever, got a few matches, and made a light.
The next thing was to carry a set of steps to
the spot, and attempt to reach the lamps.
But after much labour, she found they were
still above her head. A small table was next
brought from below, and Mary put the steps
upon it, and mounted to the top with hope
and joy, for now she was almost sure that she
could light the lamps. But no; though she
stood on tiptoe, they were even yet’a little
higher than she could reach. “If I had a
stick,’ she said, “I would tie a match to it,

and then I could set light to the wicks.” Yet
8 s
90 LITTLE GEMS.

no stick, nor anything of the kind was to be
found. ;

The storm now became quite fearful. The
sailors looked along the coast for the lights.
Where could they be? Had they brought
their ships in a wrong direction? They were
at a loss to tell, and knew not which way to
steer.

All this time Mary’s father was praying in
the shed, that God would take care of his
child in the dark and lonely lighthouse.

Poor Mary was about to sit down again
and weep, when she thought of the large old
Bible in the room below. But how could she
tread on that book? It was God’s holy word,
which her mother loved so much to read.
“Yet it is to save life,” said she; “and if
mother were here, would she not allow me to
take it?” Mary did not scorn her mother's
Bible; its very covers were precious in her
sight.

In a minute the large book was brought
and placed under the steps, and up she got
again. Yes, she was just high enough; then
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER. 91

she touched one wick, and another, and an-
other, till the rays of the lamps shone brightly
far over the dark waters.

The father saw the light as he lay in the
shed, #d thanked God who had sent help—
though he knew not how—in the hour of
danger. The sailors beheld the light, and
steered their ships away from the rocks, and
were safe. And the wreckers, too, saw the
light, and were full of rage that their cruel
plot had wholly failed.

All that stormy night the lamps cast their
rays over the foaming sea; and when the
morning came, the wreckers let the father
loose from the shed. The water was again
down from the causey, and he was soon in the
lighthouse, there to learn from his little girl
the way in which God had helped her in the
hour of her trial. Brave little Mary! may
we not hope that the blessed Bible was “a
light unto her feet and a lamp unto her path’’
all through her life, and that it guided her
to heaven, there to meet her dear mother to
part no more?
92 LITTLE GEMS.

Young reader, have you the light of life?
Has the Holy Spirit led you to believe in Je-
sus as your Saviour? If so, let, your light
shine—let it be seen in a holy temper and
conduct. And while the wicked try%to put
out the true light of God’s truth, do you strive
to set it up in the world, that men may see it
and be saved.

The heart, where the Spirit of God

In love and in pureness may rest,
‘Will spread all its beauty abroad,

And beara in the face from the breast.

No anger, nor hatred, nor scorn,
Nor bitterness there will be found ;

An injury felt will be borne,
Affection will shine all around.

Whatever men beauty may call,
This merits the title in truth ;
The loveliest beauty of all
Is the bud of religion in youth.
THREE STAINS. 93

THREE STAINS
ON THE GHILDHOOD OF KATY MOORE.

“Waar! only three! How good she must
have been!” exclaimed Bell. Ah, no! she
was not good, nor were those the only stains
upon the pages of her young life, but they
stand out more prominently in her memory,
and assume a darker hue than all the others
combined; and I will tell you why, ere I lay
down my pen.

Katy was an only daughter, and besides
her brother Harry, who was nearly three
years her senior, there was no little one in
the home circle. All her-reasonable desires
were gratified. Her little school-mates were
always welcomed at her mother’s house, and
she could visit them in return as much as she
liked. * She had a library of the most charm-
ing books; a garden of her own, in which
she might sow her own’ seeds, yes, and dig
them up too, to see if they had sprouted ;
neat and pretty dresses,—but, I am glad to
94 LITTLE GEMS.

say, not such rich ones as little girls wear
now-a-days; dolls of all ages and sizes
(which, however, she did not dress so neatly
as she was dressed herself, for. she was not
skilful with her needle); and a pet kitten
might always be seen by her side or in her
lap, when she was at home. Indeed, from
her babyhood until long after her marriage, I
cannot tell how many kittens successively
filled a very large space in her heart, for
their name is Legion; and alas! all of them
died the death of the pampered cat.

I can think of no little girl who has more
to make her happy than Katy had; but the
crowning delight of all was to sit between her
father and mother on a little stuffed seat which
was fastened into the buggy, and, leaving the
hot and dusty city, take long drives over the
beautiful hill country in the vicinity of
Boston.

There was a certain rule in the family, that
as Harry and Katy Were too large to go to-
gether in the buggy, they must take turns,
and thus each might ride three times a week;
THREE STAINS. 95

but if either of them had been naughty, he
or she must remain at home, even if the good
child had ridden only the day before.

One day Katy had been naughty. I for-
get what the trouble was; but Harry was to
go in her place, although he had enjoyed a
drive of a dozen miles only on the afternoon
previous. The buggy was driven to the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Moore, with Harry, had taken
their seats, and the reins were tightened pre-
paratory to leaving home, when Miss Katy
appeared upon the door-step with her favorite
doll in her arms, and her face all smiles,
although her little heart was weeping all the
while. She called to the party as they were
driving away, and, hoping that they would
have a delightful time, declared with great
energy that she should be quite as happy to
remain at home with her dolls as to go into
the country. Nor do I remember that a tear
of regret dimmed her eye, or that her proud
and happy-seeming féce underwent any change,
when, on his return, Harry spoke in raptur-
ous terms of the pleasant drive he had had,—
96 LITTLE GEMS.

of his kind aunt Lucy and of her delicious
cherries.

What was the first stain on this little girl’s
heart? Pripz!

At Miss Fletcher’s school it was the custom
to distribute silver medals, on each Monday,
among those pupils who had kept at the head
of the different classes through the previous
week. On each Monday morning, the girls
hung the medals which they had worn through
the past week, on separate nails at the side
of Miss Fletcher's desk, and before the school
was dismissed, they were again given where
they were due, to be worn until the following
Monday. Right proud was she who could
wear several of them home to dinner on that
day.

Katy was a good scholar, and she owed
much of her success at school to the kind ex-
ertions of a cousin who resided in the family,
and to whom she always recited her lessons
in the morning, he pdtiently correcting her
mistakes, so that she might be perfect and
please her teacher; and on a certain Monday
THREE STAINS. 97

morning she went to school, knowing and
boasting that she should wear home at noon
six medals, each with a different colored rib-
bon too, for she had kept at the head of her
History, Spelling, Reading, Geography, and
Arithmetic classes all of the previous week,
and had also written the best copies, therefore
her sixth medal would be for writing.

In the course of the forenoon, Katy deeply
wounded Julia Carey’s feelings, and treated
her so badly, that Miss Fletcher said she
must ask Julia’s pardon or forfeit all her
medals. Her little mouth was firmly closed
in a twinkling, and her face was all aglow
with the determination which was so large an
element in her character. Not all the per-
suasions of her companions, not the sad looks
of her teacher, no, not even the tempting row
of shining medals, awaiting only her word,
could unseal those lips or change the will of
the little one; and home she went and told
her story, bearing unflinchingly the comments
of the family, as none but such children as
Katy can bear; nor did she ever, at least in

9
98 LITTLE GEMS.

her school-days, tell Julia that she was grieved
to have so wounded her, though her heart was
often grieved in secret.

What was the second and deeper stain on
this little girl’s heart? Pride!

Mr. Moore’s house, though in the heart of
the city, was surrounded by a large garden,
full of flowers and trees; and Katy had her
own little parterre, which she was very anx-
ious one day to dig for herself. She looked
from the window, and seeing John very busily
engaged with his spade, turning up the fresh
earth with so much apparent ease, she thought
she could make the garden look quite as well,
or even a little better than he could do; and
Tunning out and up to him, she seized the
spade, and declared she would dig for herself.
John resisted and told her that she must not
have the spade, that she would hurt herself,
and that he was ordered not to allow the chil-
dren to handle his tools. As usual, Katy was
determined to have her own way, and John
was equally determined that she should not
do so, and after much struggling and many
THREE STAINS. 99

words, she fastened her teeth upon his arm,
and bit into the flesh so deeply, that blood
was drawn, and the wound was dressed with
healing ointments for some time afterward.

Katy was punished severely for her wicked
conduct, and was shut up in a dark closet, all
by herself, for the remainder of the day, that
she might think over her sin in solitude, and
perchance come to her right senses. But the
darkness and solitude did neither terrify nor
soften her, nor would she ever tell John that
she was sorry, though she was so, way down
in her heart.

‘What was the third and deepest stain on
the little girl’s heart? Pride!

Katy Moore is now in the noon of her life,
and can Jook back through many years to her
childhood’s days. It is a long, long while
since God began to humble her pride by a
course of discipline as distasteful as it was
unexpected to her. But she trusts that the
rock, once and again smitten, will still send
forth the waters of humility and repentance,
though sometimes in arid seasons of her spir-
100 LITTLE GEMS.

itual life, they issue forth merely in tiny
drops. Ah! Katy’s pride is a sad stumbling-
block to this very hour.

Her brother Harry put on immortality just
as he entered upon manhood; and in her sor-
rowful musings, she is made less sad at the
thought that she cannot remember one soli-
tary time when Harry lost his drive by his
naughty conduct.

Katy would be very glad now to ask Julia
Carey’s pardon for the cruel words she spoke
to her, when they were little girls together;
but she knows not where in all the wide world
she may be, or if indeed she be not among
those whom God hath taken.

And.Katy often wonders if the scar of that
fierce bite remains to this day on the arm of
John Crosby; and could she see him she
would ask his pardon also, however humble
his outward circumstances might be.

Why does Katy think that these stains of
pride are of a deeper hue than any others in
her young life? Because that sinful pride
of her corrupt nature has been her soul’s en-
THREE STAINS. 101

emy through all the years of her changeful
life, thrusting itself into the most minute
events of each day, and leaving its odious
trail even upon her most unworldly thoughts
and actions. Because when the Spirit of God
first moved upon the dark recesses of her
heart, this inborn pride well nigh bade Him
go and leave her to herself. Because she
knows now that God abhors a proud spirit,
and that there is no blessing recorded in his
word for such as Katy once was; and she
would fain entreat her young friends, when
they feel the first risings of pride in their
hearts, to pray God to remove that sin far
from them in their youth, lest it become their
besetting sin also, and haunt their holiest mo-
ments in after-life, so that they will be com-
pelled to cry out, ‘‘ Who shall deliver me
from the body of this death ?”

“ Thanks be to God, who giveth us the vic-
tory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

9*
102 LITTLE GEMS.

TELL THE TRUTH.

SmasH! went a pane of glass in the win-
dow of a small drug store, as an iron hoop
came bouncing against it. Up jumped the
old gentleman who sut behind the counter
reading a newspaper, and ran to the door;
but he was not so quick in his movements ag
the unfortunate owner of the hoop, and all
that Mr. Bebee, the druggist, saw, as he
looked out, was a pair of heels flying around
the corner.

“You young rascal,’’ said he, as he shook
his fist in the direction of the fugitive, “just
Jet me catch you, that’s all!”

But while he was wasting his wrath on the
air, let us follow poor Charley Mann (for
such was the window breaker) as he ran to-
wards his house.

As soon as he caught sight of his neat little
home, with the clean white muslin curtains,
and a face behind them which he fancied was
his mother’s, he stopped, and said to himself,
TELL THE TRUTH. 108

“This isn’t right—pshaw! what was I think-
ing of?” Then turning round, he slowly re-
traced his steps towards the druggist’s.

Mr. Bebee was not in a very amiable mood
when Charley went in, and the hoop which the
latter still held in his hand did not help to
mend matters.

“Are you the boy that broke my win-
dow?” asked Mr. Bebee, getting up and seiz-
ing his cane in a very threatening manner.

“Yes, sir; and I came to say that I am
very sorry for it, and to know how much I
must pay for a new pane of glass.”

“You pay for it!’ exclaimed Mr. Bebee,
“T don’t believe you ever had so much
money in your life as would pay for that
glass.”

“TI have got two-and-ninepence, sir,” at
the same time putting the money on the
counter, “and I’! work for you and earn the
rest, if you'll let me.”

“Can't your father pay for it?”

“T have no father, sir,’’ answered Charley,
rather sadly.
104 LITTLE GEMS.

“Well, can’t your mother pay for it ?”

“She is very poor, sir, and I should hate
to ask her for the money.”

“What made you run away, when you
broke the window ?”’

“Why, at first,” said Charley, hesitat-
ingly, “I was afraid I should get a beating.”

‘“What made you come back again, then?”

“Because I felt that I was acting like a
coward, and I knew mother would be vexed
with me, and I thought I had better do right,
and run the risk of your cane, than do wrong
and make mother sorry.”’

“Don’t you -call it doing wrong to break
my window?”

“Yes, sir, because it was careless of me.
Mother says we are apt to do wrong, and,
when we do, we should atone for it; and I
don’t know what I can do except to give you
all the money I’ve got, and try to earn
more,”’ and poor Charles looked sadly out of
the broken window.

Now the fact was, Mr. Bebee was not half
so cross as he looked; he was very much
TELL THE TRUTH. 105

pleased with Charley’s conduct, and only
questioned him. ‘ What is your name?” in-
quired he.

“Charles Mann.”

‘Where do you live ?”

Charley told him.

“‘ What does your mother do ?”’

“She takes in sewing, when she can get
any, but she hasn’t had any to do for a long
while ;”’ and Charley looked wistfully at the
two-and-nine-pence.

“Perhaps she will be angry with you for
giving me that money.”

“Oh! no, sir. I know she would rather I
would.”

“ How old are you?”

“Twelve years old, sir.’’

** And what do you do for a living ?”

“Mother wanted me to go to the public
school, as long as she could earn enough to
support us; but this morning she said she
was afraid I should have to look around for
something to do, as she couldn’t get enough
of work.”
106 LITTLE GEMS.

“Well, Charles, I believe I'll take you into
my store until you earn money enough to pay
for the window; but I’m almost afraid you'll
be breaking the bottles or jars every day.”

“ T’'ll try to be more careful, sir.”

“Well, we'll begin to-morrow morning;
and now go home to your mother.”

“Shan’t I go to the glazier first ?”

“Yes, do.”

And off went Charley; the heels flew just
as they did before, but it was to very diffe-
rent music this time. In the meantime, Mr.
Bebee walked toward the further end of the
store, and, opening a door which led to the
dwelling part of the house, he called his
housekeeper, Mrs. Morgan. A trim, bust-
ling little body appeared, and desired to know
what he wanted.

“Mrs. Morgan,” said Mr. Bebee, “ didn’t
I see you making some shirts for me the
other day?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tow many have you made?”

This question rather flurried the little
TELL THE TRUTH. 107

woman; she had never known her master to
make such inquiries before, and she was afraid
he thought she did not get on fast enough
with his work, so she answered, with rather a
frightened look,

“Only three, sir. I have had to go so
often to widow Brown’s since her little boy
was sick, that I—”

“How many more have you cut out to
make?” asked Mr. Bebee, interrupting her.

“Three more, sir.’”’

“Well, I’m very glad you have not made
more than three. Now, Mrs. Morgan, I want
you to put on your bonnet, take a basket and
fill it with some tea and sugar, and crackers,
and other little things of that kind in the
closet, arid take it to Mrs. Mann’s, with those
three shirts for her to make.”

“Don’t I make your shirts neat enough,
sir? To be sure, I can’t see quite as well as
I used to when I was young, but when I get
on my magnifying glasses, I see to stitch
pretty well.”’

“You stitch them a great deal too neatly,
108 LITTLE GEMS.

Mrs. Morgan, and I think your eyes can be
much better employed. Now, I want you to
use them on this errand, and when you come
home, tell me all they have seen.”

“Who is Mrs. Mann, and where does she
live, sir ?”’

“She is a poor woman who takes in sew-
ing, and she lives in Norfolk Street, the first
little white frame house on the left, with a
green door.”

“Yes, sir. I suppose it won’t hurt if I
put some eggs and a little butter in the
basket, too,”’ said she with a smile.

“JT see you know just exactly what to put
in much better than I do,’ said he, with 4
nod of approbation ; so saying, he went into
the store again and took up his newspaper,
while Mrs. Morgan prepared a basket full of
good things, that would make a poor family
happy any Saturday night. When Charley
left the store, he hurried to the glazier’s, but
he lived at some distance, and it was late be-
fore he reached home.

“Why, my son,” said his mother, looking
TELL THE TRUTH. 109

up with a sunny smile when he entered,
“what has kept you so late ?”’

“T met with an accident, mother.”

Mrs. Mann looked anxiously at him to see
if any bruises or wounds were visible, but his
smiling face re-assured her, and he proceeded
to relate all the occurrences of the afternoon.
She commended his conduct, but gently chided
his carelessness by saying, ‘‘ Well, Charley,
we have neither of us got fnuch money now;
if you had been a little more careful, we might
have had a cup of tea to-night; but, as it is,
we must make milk and water do; and I’m
sorry to say we have no more sugar.”

‘“‘Mother, are you sorry I gave Mr. Bebee
the money?”

‘“‘ No, indeed, dear; I would rather drink
milk and water instead of tea all my life,
than have you do anything mean; and let me
tell you, Mr. Charley, some poor folks haven’t
got any milk; we ought to be very thankful
that we have; and here’s nearly half a loaf
of bread; then to-morrow I hope to get some
sewing, and perhaps you'll be able to earn a

10
110 LITTLE GEMS.

little money—so I dare say we shall get along
finely.”

But although the widow spoke cheerfully,
a sigh finished the sentence.

They were just going to sit down to tea,
or rather to milk and water and bread, when
a gentle rapping was heard at the door.
Charley went to open it, and there stood a
little woman with a basket on her arm, and a
smile on her countenance, so bright and plea-
sant, that I am sure she must have saved can-
dles wherever she lived.

“Does Mrs. Mann live here?” inquired
she, entering and setting down the basket.
(She must have been a strong little woman,
for the basket was pretty heavy.)

“Yes, ma’am; will you walk in and take a
seat ?”’ said Charley, as he placed a chair for
her.

“Thank you,” said she; then turning to
Mrs. Mann, she said, “Mr. Bebee, the drug-
gist, requested me to bring you some sewing
—some shirts to make.”

“I’m sure I’m much obliged to him, for
TELL THE TRUTH. 111

I have found it very hard to get work
lately.”’

‘* And he told me to bring you a few things
in the way of tea and sugar. I suppose they
won’t come amiss,’’ said Mrs, Morgan, as she
began to unpack the basket; and as her eye
glanced over the tea-table, she felt sure that
she had come just in time.

The tears came in Mrs. Mann’s eyes as she
thanked her, and Charley couldn’t say a
word; but the little woman cut short all
thanks and bustled out, bidding them good
evening, and promising to call soon.

“ Mother,” said Charley, as soon as they
were alone, ‘“‘my two-and-ninepence would
not have bought all that,” and he pointed to
the contents of the basket. s

‘“‘TIonesty is the best policy, Charley.”

How nice that cup of tea tasted, and what
a pleasant evening they passed, as Mrs. Mann
busied herself with her work, and Charley
talked over his plans for the following morn-
ing; and after the chapter in the Bible was

oO?

read, and the nightly prayer repeated, how
112 LITTLE GEMS.

full the widow’s heart was, as she kissed her
boy good-night !

Next morning he was up and dressed bright
and early, his breakfast was’ ready for him,
and after kissing his mother good-by, he set
off with a light heart for the drug-store.

A little girl was sweeping it out, Mrs. Mor-
gan was superintending the operation, and as
Charley entered, the latter bade him good-
morning with a cheerful smile, and said,
“You are to be our errand-boy, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am; shan’t I sweep out the
store?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that will be a part
of your business now—so, Bridget, you can
give Charles the broom, and go out and see
about breakfast.” :

Bridget did not seem at all loth to yield
the broom, and Charles began sweeping in
good earnest. Mrs. Morgan followed Bridget
out, leaving Charles all alone. He made the
place as neat as he could, and was thinking
what else to do, when Mrs. Morgan came in
again. She praised him for his “notion
TELL THE TRUTH. 113

of keeping things tidy,’’ as she expressed
it.

Mr. Bebee was a widower; he had lost
three children when they were quite young,
and now he had no one to care for, and no
one to care for him, except good little Mrs.
Morgan, and he never could have a want if
she could help it. And now she was at the
head of the table, waiting to pour out his
coffee.

“Good morning, Mrs. Morgan,” said Mr.
Bebee, as he came in and took his seat at the
table; ‘“‘I had no opportunity of speaking to
you last night; did you find Mrs. Mann?”

“Yes, and I got there just in the nick of
time; they were sitting down to tea, and
there was nothing on the table but some dry
bread, and a little milk and water.”

‘“ Has Charles come yet ?”’ asked Mr. Bebee,
after some time.

“Yes, sir; I think he is a real nice boy,
and will save you lots of trouble.”

“‘ What is he doing now?”

“T left him washing the windows.”

10°
114 LITTLE GEMS.

“Bless my heart! I must go and see that
he doesn’t break everything.”

“T don’t think you need be afraid, sir,”
said Mrs. Morgan, smiling, as Mr. Bebee went
towards the store.

Charles was putting the things carefully
back into the window when Mr. Bebee went
in, and the old gentleman seemed to think
that Mrs. Morgan was right. During the
day, Charles made himself useful in several
ways; he was naturally a bright, active boy,
and now gratitude to Mr. Bebee, and the idea
of benefiting his mother, made him work with
double energy. Mr. Bebee began to wonder
how he had ever got along without him. He
soon earned enough to make his mother com-
fortable, and his truth and honesty made him
respected by all who knew him.

“Mother,” said Charles one evening, as
they were sitting down to tea, and a plate of
hot biscuit was smoking between a glass dish
of sauce and a plate of smoked beef neatly
shaved, “mother, the best day’s business I
ever did was breaking Mr. Bebee’s window.”
SOPHIE'S VICTORY. 115

“No, Charles; the ‘best’ was owning up
to it honestly, and not being afraid to tell the
truth.”

SOPHIE’S VICTORY ;
OR, OVERCOMING EVIL WITH GOOD.

Sopuize Leicuton was the poorest girl that
went to our school. She wore ugly calico
frocks, coarse blue check aprons, and clumsy
leather shoes. She never had a bit of cake,
or pie, or cold chicken, or any thing nice in
her dinner-basket—nothing but plain bread
and butter from one day to another; and as
for pocket-money, and confectionery, and such
things, I don’t believe she had a penny of her
own once in six months, or tasted sugar-
plums twice a year! Her father was dead,
you see, and her mother could not even afford
to pay her schooling. Sophie used to come
early in the morning before any of the others,
and sweep the room, and light the fire, and
116 LITTLE GEMS.

dust off the girls’ desks; and so Miss Adams
took that instead of money, and Sophie actu-
ally earned her own education.

If we had not all been very proud and fool-
ish little girls, we should have admired and
respected Sophie Leighton all the more be-
cause of this very thing. It was brave and
noble in her, and I don’t believe there was
another one of us who would have had the
courage and the patience to do such disagree-
able things for the sake of an education. But
we did not think of it in this way. We
looked down upon her, and “turned up our
noses” at her, because she was so poor and
could not go to school without doing a ser-
vant’s work to pay for it; and instead of
treating her kindly, and so making it easier
for her 10 bear, we were always saying or
doing something to hurt her feelings. One
girl would ask her what was the price of blue-
check by the yard; and another would ask
her who was her dress-maker, and where she
found such lovely patterns of calico; and
somebody else would say, rudely, that the
SOPHIE’S VICTORY. 117

house-maid had not done her work properly
that morning, and ask if she used her duster
for a pocket-handkerchief.

It was very poor wit indeed, and not only
that, but so mean and cruel that I wonder
how we ever could have been guilty of such
conduct—especially toward such a girl. For,
in spite of all our rudeness and unkindness,
she never returned a single angry word. The
colour would start to her cheeks, and her lips
begin to tremble when she was spoken to in
this way; but she would either turn away di-
rectly without a word, or if she was obliged
to answer, answer always gently and patiently
—never with a sign of passion or temper.
It made her very unhappy, I know, to be
treated so; but she never told our teacher,—
who would have put a stop to it at once, if
she had only known it,—or even her mother.
She knew it would trouble her mother so
much, to think of her child having such daily
trial to bear; and so, like a little heroine, as
she was, she kept it all to herself, and bore it
all without help or sympathy,—earthly help
118 LITTLE GEMS.

or sympathy, that is; if she had not had her
Father in heaven to go to for pity, and com-
fort, and strength, she never could have held
out so long. But Sophie Leighton was one
of the Good Shepherd's own lambs, and like
him, she was oppressed and she was afflicted,
yet she opened not her mouth; and when she
was reviled, she reviled not again.

But it all came to an end at last, and this
was the way of it. Sophie had been a little
late in getting to school one morning, and
had not quite finished her work when the
girls began to come. The sweeping was all
done, and nearly all the dusting; but Miss
Adams’ desk was still to be attended to, and
the black-board to be cleaned; and Sophie
was busy rubbing off chalk-marks when three
of her school-mates came into the room to-
gether. They were three great friends, and,
of all the girls in school, had been foremost
in ridiculing and ill-treating Sophie, and of
course now that they had so good an oppor-
tunity to torment her, they did not neglect it.
One snatched away her scrubbing-cloth from
SOPHIE'S VICTORY. 119

her, and another took her feather-duster and
shook it in her face and eyes, and the third
scrawled on the black-board, in chalk letters,
some coarse speech about “lazy house-maid,”
—all three laughing at and taunting her
without the slightest consideration of her
feelings, or any care for any thing else but
their own amusement.

And Sophie bore it patiently as long as she
could, hoping that they would soon get tired
and leave her alone. But they were in no
hurry to do that, and it was getting late, and
Sophie knew that Miss Adams would be dis-
pleased if every thing was not in order when
she arrived. So she begged Esther Todd,
the girl who had taken her scrubbing-cloth,
to give it back to her that she might finish
her work. But Esther only laughed, and
flirted it in her face, snatching it back again
whenever Sophie tried to grasp it, and she
was so much stronger and more active, that
it was quite in vain for Sophie to attempt to
take it from her. She gave it up at last, and
turned to dust Miss Adams’ desk. But there
120 LITTLE GEMS.

again, Julia Holmes had the duster, and
would not give it up, and Kate Leslie had
just discovered that the desk was unlocked,
and was vowing that she meant to open it and
peep at all Miss Adams’ treasures.

This last, Sophie was determined not to allow.
She had submitted to their impositions upon
herself, but it was another thing when they
meddled with the teacher's desk; and she
sprang to it as bold as a lion, declaring that
nobody should lift the lid while she was
there.

‘“‘Let’s see you help it!’ Kate cried de-
fiantly; and Esther Todd exclaimed scorn-
fully, “Who are you, I wonder, to dare to
say we shan’t do what we like?” and Julia
Holmes chimed in angrily, ““ What impudence
to be sure! I'll open it, just on purpose, and
I'd like to see you hinder me, Miss Check-
apron !”’

“T will hinder you,” said Sophie firmly.
“Miss Adams does not allow any thing on
her desk to be touched, you know, and you
wouldn’t dare to be up on this platform even,
SOPHIE’S VICTORY. 121

if she were here. You shan’t open it while I
am, I promise you!’’ and she pressed her
hand down tightly upon the lid to prevent
them.

“Girls, are you going to allow this?’’ Julia
exclaimed in a passion. “It’s a pretty case
if somebody no better than a servant is to
order us around in this way!’

“Pull her down!’ Esther Todd cried out.
“We'll hold her, won’t we, Kate? and Jule
can look as much as she pleases.”

And, at the word, Sophie was pulled down
from the platform by the three girls, and, in
spite of all the resistance she could make,
held firmly by Esther and Kate, while Julia
proceeded to open the desk. She did not
really want to open it, for she knew very well
that it was against the rules, and that if Miss
Adams ever found it out, she would be pun-
ished. But now that Sophie, whom she de-
spiscd so much, had defied her in this way,
she was certainly not going to give up. She
would open the desk if she died for it! And
open it she did, calling out triumphantly,

ll
122 LITTLE GEMS.

“There, now, Miss Check-apron! It doesn’t
do for servants to turn mistress too soon, you
see. Come and hinder me, if you can!”

‘She can’t hinder you, but she can tell,”
said Esther, who was beginning to be a little
frightened. ‘You had better come away,
Jule, and let the desk alone.”’

‘Oh, I suppose she will tell, of course.
Let her!’’ Julia answered scornfully, though
at the same time she secretly trembled in fear
of it. ‘I don’t care any thing about the
desk, only I wasn’t going to have her tell me
I shouldn’t look into it. I’ve seen all I
wanted, now.”

And she let the lid fall with a slam, and
jumped hastily off the platform. Too hastily,
it turned out, for the sleeve of her dress
caught in the lid as it fell, and her quick
jump jarred the light desk so as almost to up-
set it entirely. She threw out her arms in
time to prevent its fall, but not in time to
save the ink-stand which always stood upon
it. That toppled over, and rojled down the
slope of the desk, and before any one could
SOPHIE’S VICTORY. 123

catch it, it was upon the floor, spattering its
black contents far and near. Kate and Esther
dropped Sophie’s arms in dismay, and Julia
stood still and stared at the mischief, too
frightened to do any thing. Sophie only had
presence of mind, and feeling herself released,
she sprang upon the platform, without any
other thought than to repair the damage as
much as possible and began mopping up the
ink with the scrubbing-cloth which Esther
had dropped at last. The others stood aside
and looked on, silent and dismayed. She
was doing all that could be done, and they
felt too much ashamed of themselves even to
offer“to help her.

Just at that minute there was a step out-
side, and a touch upon the door-lock. The
three girls shrank away from the platform,
for they felt instinctively who was coming ;
and the next moment Miss Adams opened the
door and walked in, just as Sophie was rising
up from her knees, her face all flushed with
stooping, and the dripping, inky cloth in her
stained hands. She saw it all at a glance,
124 LITTLE GEMS.

and came hastily forward, her face reddening
with vexation. Everybody knows what a
trial it is to have ink spilled, and Miss Adams,
who was extremely neat and careful, had a
special horror of it.

“What carelessness is this, Sophie Leigh-
ton ?’’ she exclaimed severely, as she came up
to the desk. “How in the world could you
manage to upset that large ink-stand? Such
a sight—ink all over my desk—all over the
platform—everything ruined—dear me!”

She stamped her foot with impatience, and
poor Sophie, trembling at her anger, glanced
imploringly toward the girls to see if they
would not tell the truth, and deliver her from
such unmerited rebuke. But not one of them
said a word. ach one felt ashamed to the
bottom of her heart, but none had courage to
come out honestly and face the consequences
of her fault. Miss Adams never seemed to
suspect them at all. She looked upon Sophie
as the responsible person, and seeing her desk
still undusted, the black-board covered with
white scrawls, and her feather broom lying
SOPHIE'S VICTORY. 125

on the floor, she concluded very hastily that
Sophie had been very negligent in her morn-
ing duties, as well as very careless about the
ink. She was the more provoked accordingly,
and reproved Sophie more sharply perhaps,
in her impatience, than was necessary, even
if the child had been in fault; telling her fin-
ally that unless she could be depended upon
to do the work she had undertaken more
faithfully, she had better give it up altogether,
and Miss Adams would supply her place with
some one more trustworthy.

Poor Sophie burst into tears as she listened
to this. It seemed too much to be borne—
when she had already borne so much before—
and for a minute she was tempted to tell the
whole story, and let the blame fall where it
was deserved.

But closely following the temptation, came
a remembrance of the text she had read that
very morning in her little “Daily Food.”
“ Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil
with good.” Some sweet inward voice seemed

to whisper it in her very ear, and the struggle
ll *
126 LITTLE GEMS.

was calmed directly. She did not even look
toward her guilty school-mates again, but only
said meekly to her teacher,—

“Tt was an accident, Miss Adams; I am
very, very sorry, and I will try never to let
it happen again,” and then went away for
water and a clean cloth, and spent the next
ten minutes on her knees, washing out the
ugly stains that had been made by no fault
of hers. It was no easy thing to do, my lit-
tle reader, as you will understand if you will
stop one moment and think just what you
would have done in her place. But Sophie
was praying all the while she was scrubbing,
and when she got up she felt that she could
not only bear all this undeserved trouble, but
even quite forgive the girls whose unkindness
and cowardice had brought it upon her. That
was the hardest of all, you think, but remem-
ber that while we “can do nothing without’
Jesus, we can “do all things through Christ
that strengtheneth us.”’

But I am making my story too long, and
must tell you the rest more briefly. Nothing
SOPHIE'S VICTORY. 127

had ever happened to those three girls which
made them feel so deeply as this noble con-
duct of Sophie Leighton. The poor child
whom they had despised and ill-treated from
the first day they knew her, had put them all
to shame, and in so doing, had roused the
better nature that had been slumbering so
long. I tell it of them gladly, that before
the day was over, they went of their own free
will to their teacher, and explained the exact
truth to her, without any selfish reservation
whatever; and then they went to look for
Sophie Leighton, and told her what they had
done, and begged her pardon for past and
present wrong, as humbly as if the blue check
apron had been a velvet robe. And from that
time Sophie Leighton was the favourite pet
and pride of the whole school. Julia and
Kate and Esther took turns with her, and
would not be denied, in doing the despised
sweeping and dusting, and nobody clse ever
ventured a snecr at “house-maids!” But
that “‘ ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,”
which shone so sweetly on Sophie, came, from
128 LITTLE GEMS.

that time, to be a thing prized and sought
after by many; and only the angel who keeps
record of all these things can tell the good
that was accomplished by her gentle ministry.

And now, my children, why have I told
you this story? Is it not to show you how
much of our Saviour’s work can be done, even
by the least and humblest of his little ones—
how lovingly he blesses, how richly he re-
wards the most trivial service done for him?
Who will not try to win this blessing, and de-
serve this reward!

THE TWO DIMES. _

AN OLD STORY IN A NEW DRESS.

As Dick and Ben one summer’s day

Were sauntering home, fatigued with play,
They spied, close by a dark pine wood,

A pair of shoes, coarse, strong and good.
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THE TWO. DIMES.. Page 128.
THE TWO DIMES. 129

It seemed as if the owner’s care

Was to preserve these shoes from wear,
And so he’d placed them where they stood,
And gone barefooted to the wood.

Ben, glancing at the setting sun,

Said, ‘Look here, Dick, let’s have some fun,
"Twill soon be dark ;—you won’t refuse ;

So bear a hand; let’s take these shoes;

And then we'll hide behind this stack,

And wait till the old chap comes back,

And let him hunt until we choose

To sing out, ‘ Mister, here’s your shoes.’

“ And ere he has a chance to try

To catch us, we will let ’em fly

Right at his head, plump in his face,

And then we’ll lead him such a race.

I wish the other boys were here ;

We'd make old Two-shoes rub his ear.
Come, take one, Dick ; just feel its weight,
And when you fire, fire straight.”

“No, no,” said Dick; “not I for one;
I’m fond of joking, fond of fun;
130 LITTLE GEMS.

But who knows who this man may be?
Perhaps he’s poor as poor can be,

And seeks, in yonder dark pine wood,
To gather chips to cook his food.

But come, don’t let us have a spat ;
We'll play a trick worth two of that.

“‘T’ve got a dime, and so have you;
Let’s put one into each old shoe,

And then we’ll creep behind this hay,
And hear what the old man will say.”
“ Agreed,” said Ben, who, fond of fun,
And willing any risk to run

To have a laugh, or play, or joke,
Yielded at once when kindness spoke.

So in the shoes they put their dimes,
And back and forth went twenty times,
And laughed and talked about the way
The trick would end they meant to play.
First, they would twist the shoes about
To make the precious dimes show out ;
Then place the silver in a way

To catch the sun’s departing ray.
THE TWO DIMES. 131

At length a sound their senses greet,
Of rustling leaves, and moving feet ;
And then, like kittens at their play,
They ran and hid beneath the hay ;
But still afraid that they should lose
A sight of him who owned the shoes,
Kept peeping out as if to view

And note what he would say or do.

And soon, from out the lonely wood,

In weary, sad, and thoughtful mood,

An old man came, bowed down with years,
Whose eyes betokened recent tears.

His steps were feeble, tottering, slow.

His hair as white as driven snow;

And, as he came toward the stack,

They saw the fagots on his back.

At length he stopped, as if to muse;

His tearful eyes turned toward his shoes,
When, as the silver met his sight,

They flashed, as with a heavenly light:
And down upon the yielding sod

He knelt, with heartfelt thanks to God,
132 LITTLE GEMS.

And, with his aged hands upraised,
He said, ‘ O God, thy name be praised!”

And as the boys beneath the hay
Listened with awe to hear him pray,
They learned his story, sad and brief,
Of toil and sickness, pain and grief.
His children, one by one, had died,
And he had laid them, side by side,
Within the dark and chilly tomb,

And o’er his life spread heartfelt gloom.

Yet, through that gloom a cheering ray
Of hope sustained him on his way ;

He felt that, when this life was o’er,

His children he should see once more.
And so, with patience, hope, and trust,
He had consigned the dust to dust,

And, at the grave of each loved one,
Had knelt and said, “‘ Thy will be done.”

Then followed other ills of life,—
Cold, pinching want, a suffering wife,—
All this, and more, they heard him say,
As they lay hid beneath the hay;
THE TWO DIMES. 133

And then, with cheek all wet with tears,
In voice made tremulous by years,

They heard him ask of God to bless
The hand that had relieved distress.

But rising from his knees, at length,

And leaning on his staff for strength,

He thrust his feet within his shoes,

And hurried homeward with the news,

The boys, half-buried ’neath the hay,

Saw him go tottering on his way;

Then, crawling out, they homeward went,
Pleased with the way their dimes were spent.

“T say,” said Ben, “if I had died,
I couldn’t help it; so I cried;
But if I ever try again
To play a joke, my name ain’t Ben.”
‘Well, well, we've had our fun,” said Dick,
“ And played a real and handsome trick ;
And I sha’n’t be ashamed to tell
About a joke that ends so well.”

12
134 LITTLE GEMS.

MORAL.

The moral of this tale is plain :—

Cause no unnecessary pain ;

Pluck from your heart all evil thoughts;
Let love and kindness guide your sports:
And, if inclined to play a trick,

Act tenderly, like honest Dick ;

Or if in frolic, now and then,

You're led astray, remember Ben.

Remember, too, in pain or grief,

A prayer to God will bring relief.

Or if with joy the heart expands,

On bended knee, with upraised hands,
And heart uplifted to the skies,

Let thanks in prayer and praise arise.
God hears the gentlest sigh or prayer;
He’s ever present everywhere.

SELFISHNESS AND KINDNESS.
“T WANTED that; you ought to have given
that to me,” said a little boy just as we passed
him on our way to the village.
SELFISHNESS AND KINDNESS. 135

“Oh, how sorry I am to hear him speak
so!” said Mr. Heywood; “I. was only that
moment thinking how nicely he was walking
along with his mother. But those three
words, ‘I wanted that,’ have spoiled the pic-
ture.”

“Why, uncle?” asked Jane; “don’t you
think he did want it, then ?”’

“There can be little doubt of that, my
dear; but the way in which he spoke leads
me to think that he is a selfish boy. Iam
quite sure too, that, whatever it was his mo-
ther had given away, she had given it to
somebody that needed it more than her little
boy. Some children never seem satisfied:
they always want what somebody else has;
and they never enjoy what they have them-
selves, because they fancy theirs is not so
good or not so pretty as somebody else’s. A
covetous, selfish child cannot be happy.

“T was reading only to-day of a little girl
who, though she was the youngest, always
thought of herself before anybody else; and
when one day an invitation came from a
136 LITTLE GEMS.

friend for either her or her sister to go and
spend a few days, and her father said that
her sister being the oldest should go, she
pouted her lip and was quite vexed, and said,
she might have offered to let me go first. The
little girl, you may be sure, did not gain the
esteem of those who were about her. The
servants, though they always did what was
their duty to do for her, yet gave her the
character, ‘Miss Ada isn’t over fond of giving
up to anybody.’”

“T should think nobody could love her
much,” said Jane.

“Her sister did,” replied Mr. Heywood;
“for she asked and obtained her father’s
leave to let her go instead of herself. And
this was a great piece of self-denial, for the
lady was almost the only one of her father’s
circle of friends that she cared about visiting.
The character which the servants gave to
Margaret was, that she alwaya liked to make
excuses for everybody if she could; but they
did not know that it was the love of God in
her heart, which made her so ready to give in
SELFISHNESS AND KINDNESS. 1387

for the good of others, and so unwilling to
cherish unkind thoughts of others.”

“T like that,” said John; “I always like
to see any one ready to give in.”

“T hope,” said his uncle, “what you ad-
mire in others, you will ever be ready to cul-
tivate in yourself. But I have another pic-
ture: it is also about two little girls; and
had you seen them, you would have thought
that you could like one as well as the other.
We must not judge, however, by looks always;
even a child is known by his doings. One of
these little girls, as long as her playfellows
did as she liked, was very well pleased, but
if they wanted to play at a different game to
what she wished, she would say, ‘Ob, I don’t
want that,’ and be cross and discontented.
She also wanted the best of everything for
herself, and grudged everything that was
given to her sister. In this respect she was
like a little boy I knew, who, when the minis-
ter had given his younger brother a book,
got it away from him to look at, and then sat
over it, with his elbows on the table, and his

12 *
138 LITTLE GEMS.

head over his hands, almost like the dog in
the manger. And then, as soon as he saw
his sister with a book which he thought looked
prettier, pushed the one he had before him to
his brother and wanted the other.”’

“What a naughty boy, to be sure!”’ said
Jane; “Iam glad he was not my brother.”

“No one can approve such conduct, my
girl; but let us be careful that while we con-
demn the fault in others, we are not guilty
of a similar fault ourselves. We may be led
into an act of selfishness, when ‘we little think
of it. Do you remember, Jane, who it was
that must have her uncle’s hand, when another
little friend was about to take hold?”

Jane blushed, and was about to excuse her-
self, when John added, “ She will think of it
another time.”

“Yes,” she said, “I do like to go out with
you, uncle, but I will not be so rude again, I
must not want all your company always.
That would be selfish.”’

“But,” said Mr. Heywood, “I must con-
tinue my story about the two little girls.
SELFISHNESS AND KINDNESS. 139

Their schoolfellows agreed to ask them to
take a walk with them on the half holiday
afternoon. When the day arrived, they set
out to the hills to gather wild flowers, and it
was proposed that whoever gathered the pret-
tiest bunch, should receive from each of the
others the prettiest flower she had found. As
they wanted as many different flowers as they
could get, they divided themselves into twos
and threes, and set off in different directions.

“ Jane—for that was the name of the elder
sister—said she would much rather go alone;
the fact was, she knew a spot where, the year
before, she had found larger and prettier flow-
ers than any of the other girls.”

“That was very selfish of her,” said John;
“if I had been her, I think. I should have
liked to have taken my sister with me.”’

“T have no doubt of that, and that would
have been my feeling; it would have been
more sociable, and I should have enjoyed my-
self more in company than alone. However,
Jane’s sister went with another girl named
Susan, and soon found a place where there
140 LITTLE GEMS,

was a large number of flowers growing, and
among them several kinds they had never
seen before.

‘«« What beautiful flowers !’ they both cried,
and were not content to have it all to them-
selves, but you might have heard their voices
at a long distance, ‘ Make haste, girls—Char-
lotte, Lizzie, Ellen, Kate, make haste! Come
here! be quick!’

“Nor was it long before all, excepting
Jane, were at the spot, adding to their little
stores of flowers.

“ «Where can Jane be?’ said her sister.

“*T do not know, Iam sure,’ said Maria;
‘I wish she would make haste and come;’
and she called ‘Jane! Jane!’ but there was
ho answer.

“ At length, however, Jane came up, look-
ing quite pleased.

“ ¢ Maria,’ said she, ‘look at my flowers.’

“*¢ Oh, they are beautiful!’ said her sister ;
‘where did you get that?’ pointing to a deli-
cate pink flower.

“<< Qh, I found it,’ she replied, and pushed
SELFISHNESS AND KINDNESS. 141

among the group of her schoolfellows to look
at theirs. But it was soon quite clear that
the sight of their bunches made her less sat-
isfied with her own. ‘ You need not have told
me to come,’ said she to her sister; “the
flowers are all gone.’

“« Here are a few left,’ her sister replied ;
‘I wish there were more for you. If it had
not been for Susan Giles there would have
been none left, but she thought of you and
asked us to leave some for you.’

“Jane did not even say, ‘Thank you,’ but
picked them all without saying a word; and
though they were very pretty she was vexed
because the others had more than herself.”

“Tf she had not been so selfish, uncle,’
said Jane, ‘she would have had more, wouldn’t
she ?”

“Yes ; selfish people generally punish them-
selves. She chose to go alone, because she
thought she should get more and better flow-
ers, and she got less.

‘‘ At last, each having made up their bunch,
the time for examination came, and the school-
142 LITTLE GEMS.

mistress was chosen to decide as to which was
the prettiest nosegay. After looking at them
very carefully, she declared that Susan’s was
the most handsome one.

“Then each began to take the best flower
out of their nosegay and give to Susan.
Jane wanted to keep hers; she did not see
why they should give all theirs to Susan.

“« Well,’ said Ellen, ‘we are not going to
give her all; we are only to give her one.’

“ for that is the prettiest,’ said Jane peevishly.

“<¢Tf your bunch had been the prettiest,’
said Kate, ‘ you would have expected us to do
as had been agreed.’

“ Now Susan was a kind-hearted, good-na-
tured girl, and seeing that Jane was very un-
willing to part with her best flower, she
pitied her.

‘«¢ Jane,’ said she, ‘I have so many pretty
ones, you may keep it.’ And so the selfish
girl kept her pink flower, but was none the
happier for it, you may be sure.

“My dear children,” said Mr. Heywood,
ROBERT DOUGLAS'S REVENGE. 148

“conduct such as Jane’s is a picture that
may be seen every day. The Bible teaches
us a very different lesson: ‘None of us liveth
to himself,’ and ‘whatsoever ye would that
men should do to you do ye even so to them.’
Let us seek to have that love which ‘ envieth
not, seeketh not her own, and is not easily
provoked ;’ but rejoices with those who do
rejoice, and feels for those who are in sorrow.
The unselfish child will be the happy child.
Pray, therefore, to God to give you ‘a right
spirit,’ and to make you, by his grace, his
child, and enable you to live to his glory.

ROBERT DOUGLAS'S REVENGE.

“Snow, snow again, mother! Are not you
delighted ?”’ shouted Robert Douglas, as he
rushed into the little parlour where his mo-
ther sat at the window, to catch the few rays
of light which found their way through the
feathery flakes that filled the air.
144 LITTLE GEMS.

“T can scarcely say I am delighted, Rob-
ert, though perhaps I ought to be, since it is
the will of my heavenly Father. This blessed
book says, ‘He giveth snow like wool, he
scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes. He
casteth forth his ice like morsels; who can
stand before his cold?’”’ Ps. exlvii. 16, 17.

The breakfast cloth was laid, the coffee
ready on the hearth, and a hungry schoolboy
ready for the morning meal; but before it
was tasted, mother and son knelt and prayed
God for his blessing during the day, especi-
ally asking that they might bg enabled to
know his will and do it.

The humble meal was soon over, and Rob-
ert sprang up from the table, gathered his
books into a bag, flung it over his back, but-
toned up his jacket, and with a kiss to his
mother before he set out, and a merry nod as
he passed under the window along the snowy
path, he was away to school. The mother’s
eye watched him as he ran along, and was
soon hidden from view by a curtain of dazz-
ling whiteness.
ROBERT DOUGLAS'S REVENGE. 145

“Robert is one of the best boys in his
school, Mr. Scott tells me,” said Mrs. Douglas
to herself, as she tidied up the room, put a
few bits of fresh coal on the fire, and then
sat down to her sewing; ‘‘ always at the head
of his class, clever too; that is all well—very
important, indeed, but nothing to compare
with better things. But sure I know who
has promised to be a father to the fatherless ;
yes, I will trust in him.”

Mrs. Douglas had been early left a widow
with an only son, then a baby. The neigh-
bours were all obliged to respect, and many
loved her also. It is true, though every one
said that she was a lady, they thought her
too retiring, and would have been glad of
more of her company. But Mrs. Douglas
seldom stirred abroad, except on a visit of
mercy, to the house of God, or to a warehouse
in the next town, where she often carried a
bundle of finished work, and returned with
materials for fresh labour. Everything in
the cottage was bright as scouring could make
it, and Robert’s clothes, though they bore

13
146 LITTLE GEMS.

many a patch, were never allowed to remain
broken. Sometimes, indeed, his shoes were
examined with anxious care when he laid them
by at night, as if to coax them to last untila
new pair could be paid for. Indeed, the
light-hearted boy cared little whether he wore
good shoes or bad; but he had made up his
mind that, if diligent, steady work could ac-
complish it, Robert Douglas should keep at
the head of his class.

And so he did, passing up from form to
form every half year, until on the very day
of the great snow he became captain of the
school. A high place is not always a happy
one. So at least Robert discovered; for be-
sides the dark frowns that gathered on the
brows of some comrades when Mr. Scott
praised his diligence, he overheard threats of
vengeance from others. ‘ Too bad, quite too
bad,” whispered a knot of boys, “that a boy
like him should leave us all behind.”

‘Tis easy to see he is no gentleman,”’ said
Tom Perkins, a great idle boy, “but intends
to make a trade of his learning.”
‘ROBERT DOUGLAS'S REVENGE. 147

“No matter what he makes of it; he has
it, and that’s more than you have,” inter-
rupted little Todd, a friend and ally of Rob-
ert Douglas.

“Wait till by-and-by, and perhaps you
both shall get more than you will like,’’ cried
Perkins.

School was over, and so was the falling
snow, but it still lay thick on the ground.
Robert was among the last to leave the room,
and intended hastening home, and then to
ask his mother’s leave to spend an hour or
two playing with Todd, who accompanied
him.

He ran quickly, and a turn of the road
soon concealed the school-house from view;
when, what was his surprise to feel himself
suddenly seized by the strong arm of Perkins,
who shouted, ‘Now, boys, at him!’ This was
the signal of attack. Snowball after snow-
ball flew at his head; escape was impossible,
for his enemy had him firmly grasped by the
collar of the coat. He struggled hard to be
free; but any one of the five boys who at-
148 LITTLE GEMS.

tacked him would have been more than his
match, for his bodily strength did not agree
with that of his mind. For a moment Todd
looked on in despair, then darted off in an
opposite direction, soon returning with three
tall boys, who, ignorant of the whole affair,
had been walking slowly homewards, filling
their arms with snowballs. These were soon
discharged with much vigour at the offending
party; Robert was released, and the other
boys were glad to retreat—not, however, until
little Todd felt the effects of their rage.

“Tf it were not for this tell-tale, we might
have had it all our own way,” shouted Wil-
liams, as he gave the poor little boy a blow
which laid him on the ground, and Todd’s leg
was so badly sprained that he could not move
without pain. At this moment, who should
appear, wrapped up for an afternoon walk,
but Mr. Scott himself!

‘“‘ Ho, boys, what is the matter? Has Todd
got a fall? Oh, Douglas, what has happened
to your face? Fighting, I declare. Who
would have thought it ?”
ROBERT DOUGLAS'S REVENGE. 149

“No, sir, indeed we have not been fight-
ing,” cried Robert; “but I have been at-
tacked, and dear little Todd, in trying to save
me, was thrown down and hurt.”

“ By whom ?” inquired the master.

“Please, sir, don’t ask us,’’ cried Robert,
“for I am sure those that did it are sorry
now.”

Their teacher shook his head as if not quite
certain of that, but did not press his inquiries
further. Nor, indeed, was it necessary that
he should; the boys had a notion that Mr.
Scott could guess anything, almost their very
thoughts, and no one was much surprised to
hear next morning that Williams and Perkins
were about to be sent to a school in the neigh-
bouring town. They pretended to be proud
of the change, and few of their old compan-
ions felt their loss. Little Todd soon recov-
ered. Robert Douglas still kept his high po-
sition, firmly but meekly; and long years
after, when he had become an eminent sur-
geon, he not only enjoyed the happiness of

removing his good mother to a home of ease
13 *
150 LITTLE GEMS.

and comfort, but the further pleasure of being
very useful to his old enemy, Perkins, and
felt the sweet delight of the only revenge a
Christian should cherish—that of overcoming
evil with good.

THE NEWS-BOY.

«¢ HERE’s the Herald, Times, Tribune, Ex-
press! Here’s the Sunday Times and Atlas!
Here’s the extra Herald, got the news from
Kansas, got the great railroad accident, got
the news from California !’”

He tried to utter the cry cheerfully, but
the voice died away in a kind of wail, and
the shivering news-boy passed on unheeded,
at the close of a dull, raw, November day.

“Going home, Will?” said a brother news-
carrier, as he passed in an opposite direction.

“Home!” said Will bitterly; “I haven't
any home in this world.”

‘“‘ Why, where do you eat, drink, and sleep ?
Isn’t that home ?”
THE NEWS-BOY. 151

Will did not answer, but the chill wind
froze the tears upon his cheek as he pressed
onward through the thronging multitude, all
hastening, as the boy fancied, to warm, and
cheerful, and happy homes.

“No bread yesterday,” he said to himself;
“only a penny roll to-day; mother starving
at home, and father with a whip ready if I
don’t bring home all I earn, to spend in the
drinking shop. Poor mother! God help her!
she’s patient as an angel, but dying of want;
and if she dies, baby must go too, poor thing!”
—and at the thought of the baby sister, scarce
two months old, to whom his heart clung
fondly, the wretched boy sunk down upon a
door-step, crossed his face with his hands, and
burst into tears.

Presently the brother news-carrier returned.

“Why, Will, what is the matter? Don’t
be crying so. Come,” said he, sitting kindly
down beside him, “ what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” said Will, despond-
ingly; and then, as if a sudden thought had
occurred to him, he raised his head. ‘ Yes,
152 LITTLE GEMS.

Ned, one thing you can do for me, if you will;
stay here one moment.”

He ran to a neighbouring shop, and re-
turned with bread and some slices of cold
meat. ‘There, Ned—take these to my mo-
ther; give them to her secretly, and tell her
that I shall not be home to-night, but—that
I have found a lodging.’’ The last words
were uttered with a quivering lip.

“ But, Will——’”’

‘Not a word, Ned,—hurry away, and do a
good deed; you may save her from starving.”

With a quick movement of the hand, he
urged him on, and then turned back—“ Yes,
I shall find a lodging, and I shall sleep better
now, even on a stone pillow, to know that she
is not hungry; and she will not ery, to see
me whipped for having spent my money for
bread for her.’’ With a feeling of compara-
tive satisfaction, the poor boy wandered on,
hungry and shivering with cold, and as the
lights gleamed out from cheerful parlours and
the throngs in the streets began to lessen, he
could not deny himself the satisfaction of con-
THE NEWS-BOY. 153

stantly creeping towards the wretched place
mis-named his home, and gazing on the spot
that held all that was dear to him in the
world. And then he turned away weeping,
and about midnight, crouching beneath the
steps in a basement area, drew more closely
around him his miserable garments and soon
sunk from exhaustion into a profound slum-
ber. But his mother had taught him from
his cradle hours to offer his nightly prayer,
and the poor boy before he fell asleep had
commended his patient mother and helpless
infant sister, to the care of God. The peti-
tion was fervent, heartfelt, and even from
that cheerless spot it went up to the great all-
Father, who bends his ear to the humblest of
his little ones who look to him in trust and
confidence.

‘Who's here?” shouted a rough voice: and
arough but not unkindly shake of the arm,
awoke Will from his heavy slumbers and
showed him that the morning was far ad-
vanced. ‘‘ What are you here for, and what
mischief are you plotting in this dark cor-
154 LITTLE GEMS.

ner?” But as Will looked up without an.
swering, and tried to move his limbs, stiffened
by the damp and chill night air, the questioner
observed the sad and hungry countenance of
the boy, contrasting strongly with his own
well-fed and jocund aspect, and his heart wag
touched. Assisting him to rise, he said—
“ But what are you here for, boy ?”

“Only to sleep: I have done no harm.”

“Who is that, John?” said Dr. » ag
he opened the street door and descended the
steps.

‘Well, I don’t know, sir,—some poor boy
as don’t know himself, I reckon.’’ The doctor
cast a backward glance over his shoulder, ag
he was about stepping into his carriage. The
sad countenance of Will attracted him and
awakened his compassion. ‘ Here John, hold
my horse. Come in, my poor boy, and get
some breakfast ;” and he led the way into the
basement door.

The hot rolls and coffee, the warm atmos-
phere of the sunny room, cheered the heart
of the sorrow-stricken child, and by degrees


THE NEWS-BOY. 155

the doctor drew from him his story. ‘This
is too much,” said the doctor compassionately.
“Twillsee you again, for I am in haste now.
Tell me where you live. Having obtained the
requisite information, he threw himself into
his carriage, and cracking his whip as if to
give vent to disturbed thoughts, until his
horse flew on like the light, he fell into a train
of musing, and wondered why a law could not
be framed to protect a poor wife and suffering
children from the brutality of an intemperate
husband and father.

“T will consult my legal friend on the
matter,’ he said, but meantime a higher law
was in operation, and the mandate had come
forth which severed, without man’s aid, the
bond which had been for wo instead of weal.
That night a final attack of “delirium tre-
mens” ended the wretched career of the
miserable man.

There were occasional intervals of sanity,
when he prayed God to pardon his sins and
especially towards his suffering wife, who, he
testified, had married him on the promise of
156 LITTLE GEMS.

his reformation; and with the hope of con-
firming him in it. Sacrificing home and
friends she gave herself and all her energies
to the effort, vainly exerted here and to be
rewarded only in heaven.

The next morning the carriage of Dr.
was standing at the door of the miserable
dwelling, and when he entered, the scene of
desolation which met his eye, accustomed as
it was to misery, would have appalled a stouter
heart than his. In one corner of the cold
and cheerless room, lay the body of the de-
ceased, while over him, weeping bitterly, bent
the wretched wife. She loved him once, and
now that death had drawn the veil over his
frailties, she confessed to her own heart, that
she loved him still; and loved him always.
In threadbare garments and emaciated to the
last degree, she supported on her knees a
famished infant, wrapped in a ragged coat
which poor Will had left for the purpose,
while he went out unprotected into the pierc-
ing air, to obtain food for those starving ones.

“No food, no fire, no clothing to protect


THE NEWS-BOY. 157

them!’ Dr. turned, aside and wiped
away his tears. “Great God! dost thou be-
hold, and yet not pity?” and a voice within
him, said—“ He hath sent thee to pity and to
aid,” and his heart responded solemnly, “I

will obey.”
* * * * *



A year passed by, and Will, in a suit of
neat, new garments, and with a face sunny
and cheerful, stood behind the counter in a
druggist’s establishment, a faithful, trusty
clerk.

Dr. entered, “Here my boy, take
this to your mother,” handing him a bank-
note. ‘It is for the sewing she has done for
me.”

“Oh, sir, it is too much; more, much more
than she asked.”

“No matter, it is worth all that; and how
does she like her new home? Has she plenty
of work now ?”’

The tears started into Will’s eyes, as, unable
to speak, he leaned forward and clasping the
doctor’s hand, pressed it to his lips.

14


158 LITTLE GEMS.

The doctor patted him on the head, and
shaking his hand warmly, sprang into his
carriage hurriedly, and drove.away.

That evening as Will opened the door of
his neat, little home, the tea-kettle was sing-
ing on the hearth, the neat tea-table was
spread, and his mother holding his little sister
in her arms, sat before a cheerful fire. Throw-
ing his arms about her neck, he placed the
bank-note in her hand and burst into grateful
tears as he explained its meaning. The mo-
ther took him to her heart and kissed and blessed
him, and told him that he was the source of
all her earthly happiness; while Nelly laid
her little head upon his shoulder, only too
happy in his sheltering arms. And Will
thanked God in his inmost heart, that he had
lent an ear to that prayer offered up on his
cold stone pillow, on that memorable night
when he had almost sunk under the sorrows
of the suffering ‘“‘ News-boy.”
ALWAYS DO RIGHT. 159

ALWAYS DO RIGHT.

“A FieuT! a fight!” cried Will Racket,
the wheelwright’s boy, as he threw down his
hammer and ran up the green lane.

“Fight him! fight him!’’* shouted Fred
Parker, the baker’s apprentice; at the same
time, placing his tray on the ground, he
rushed to join a crowd on the village green.

“What is it all about?’’ called out Ben
Frost, the sawyer, as he stood at the ale-
house door, and the next moment pushed his
way, with eager looks, to the same spot.

“T don’t wish to fight,” said John Smith,
a meek, pale-faced boy, in black dress, and a
band of crape around his cap; while before
him stood Ned Brown, with his jacket thrown
off, and his shirt-sleeves tucked up above his
elbows.

“Why not fight him?’’ cried some of the
men and boys; “he struck you, and you
should hit him again.”

‘But my mother has told me that I must
160 LITTLE GEMS,

not fight,” said John, “and I will not disobey
her. I have not done any harm, and I don’t
see why Ned should wish me to fight.”

No sooner did John thus speak, than the
crowd began to mock and shout aloud, “ He
is a big coward, that he is. He is afraid to
fight because his mother said he must not ;”
and Ned Brown stamped with his foot, and
looked fiercer than ever.

Just at this instant, Mr. Morris, the school-
master, was drawn by the noise to the place;
and quickly making his way through the
throng, he stood between the two boys, and
began to inquire what all the noise was about.

He soon saw how matters stood, and turn-
ing to Ned Brown, he desired him to go at
once to his work in the mill, while he gently
took John Smith aside from the noisy crowd,
that he might ask him a few questions.

“Why would you not fight with Ned
Brown?” said the schoolmaster.

“Tf I were to fight him,’ replied John
Smith, “perhaps I should hurt him, and I do
not want to do him any harm.’
ALWAYS DO RIGHT. 161

“ Very good,’’ said Mr. Morris.

“ And if I did not hurt him,” added John,
“J fear that he would hurt me, as he isa
stronger boy than I.am.”’

“ No doubt of it,”’ said the schoolmaster.

“T do not think, sir, that fighting is the
right or best way of settling a quarrel.”

“ That is quite correct,” added Mr. Morris.
“T wish everybody thought as you do; the
world would be all the better for it.”

“Then, sir, I would rather be called a
coward than do what I know to be wrong.”

“Very good again,” said the schoolmaster,
as he laid his hand on the head of the peace-
loving boy.

“And more than that, sir, to fight is not
only against what my mother has taught me,
but also against the commands of our Saviour,
who has told us to love one another.”

“That is right,” said Mr. Morris. “TI see,
John, that you remember last Sunday’s text:
‘Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger,
and clamour; and evil speaking, be put away
from you, with all malice; and be ye kind

14 *
162 LITTLE GEMS.

one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one
another, even as God for Christ’s sake has
forgiven you.’ Ephesians iv. 31, 32. In the
fear and love of God, your Saviour, always
do right.”

‘Yes, sir, my mother tells me to keep close
to the Bible, and then I shall be kept in the
way in which I should go.”

“True, quite true,’’ continued Mr. Morris,
“Flow ‘shall a young man cleanse his way ?
By taking heed thereto, according to thy
word.’ Psalm cxix. 9. That holy book will
teach you to do right in small things, as well
as great things; and to do right not only
when it is easy to do so, but when it seems to
be hard.”

“T think, sir,” said John, “that if I once
do a thing that is wrong, I may soon do it
again,”

“To be sure, John; there is great danger
of this. If we begin to sin from fear of be-
ing laughed at, there is no knowing where we
may end. Like a boy running down hill, we
may be unable to stop, and rush on to our
ALWAYS DO RIGHT. 163

ruin. And one word more, John: never for-
get that Jesus Christ came into the world, not
only to die for our sins on the cross, but to
save us from doing wrong, and to teach us
how to do right. If you look to him in faith,
you will find that he isa Saviour from the
power of sin as well as from ifs guilt. And
if you ask for the help of his Holy Spirit,
grace will be given you to forsake what is
evil, and to follow that which is good; then you
will grow up to be a brave, manly Christian.”

John Smith went home with a light and
happy heart that day; and was not ashamed
to tell his mother all that had taken place.
When she heard how her son had acted, she
thanked God who had enabled him to do
right, even when he had to bear with scorn
and mockery for so doing.

Wor some days it was the talk of the rude
boys of the village that John Smith was no-
thing better than a coward, because he had
refused to fight Ned Brown; yet it was not
long before they had to change their minds
on the subject.
164 LITTLE GEMS.

One afternoon, as John was going on an
errand for his uncle, he came to the old stone
bridge, which crosses the river near to Gaffer
Wood’s, when he heard loud cries of distress.
On looking along the bank toward the old
mill, where the waters run strongly, he sawa
lad strugglingsin the stream. The unhappy
boy had tried in vain to reach the shore, and
was now ready to sink.

In a moment John Smith cast off his coat
and shoes, and plunged into the water, for he
was a good swimmer. He soon reached the
drowning lad, and with one hand clasped him
firmly by the arm, and with the other struck
out for the shore. With much skill and cour-
age he brought the lad to land; and to his
great joy found that he had been the means
of saving fighting Ned Brown from an early
death. &

Ned was not a little touched at the con-
duct of John Smith, and grateful for being
saved from a watery grave. He took his de-
liverer with both hands, and as the tears fell
down his face, thanked him over and over
ALWAYS DO RIGHT. 165

again. Then he asked to be forgiven for
having so often spoken unkindly to him, and
for so wickedly trying to provoke him to
fight.

“ You will not strike me again,’’ said John,
“will you, Ned ?”

“No!” cried the penitent boy; “and I
will take care that no one else does, that I
will.”

It was soon reported through the village
that John Smith had, at the risk of his own
life, saved Ned Brown from being drowned.
Whatever had been the opinion before among
the young men and boys, there was now no
doubt in their minds who had shown true
courage. They all agreed that John was a
brave boy; and when he passed the cottage,
with Ned by his side, many a kind and civil
word was spoken to him both by old and
‘young. Even the wheelwright’s boy and the
baker's apprentice now received him with
much respect, and thought that it was quite
plain that a lad might be truly brave at heart
even though he would not fight.
166 LITTLE GEMS.

“ Let the conduct of John Smith,” said Mr.
Morris, just before the village school broke
up one day, “be an example to you all. He
who dares to obey his parents, and who seeks
to fear God, though it draws upon him an ill
name, proves that he has a truly brave spirit.
While he who is ashamed to walk in an up-
right course, lest those who are around should
mock him, is without true courage, If all
people were of John Smith’s mind, the world
would be much happier than it is. Mind
what I say, my boys—and I would say the
same to girls also:—Always do right—in all
things, in all places, and at all times.”

LOST AND FOUND.

THE scholars in Miss Merritt’s school were
to have a picnic, and there was a great bustle
for three days before the time appointed, and
many consultations as to what should be con-
tributed.
LOST AND FOUND. 167

Lizzy Marly, from the lower road, was to
bring cheese and milk; Jennie Ripley, the
baker’s daughter, promised the bread ; Mattie
Hunter, the grocer’s eldest girl, would supply
the tea and sugar; and Mrs. Grant, whose
little niece Annie Laurie was the pet and
plaything of the school, offered a pot of but-
ter; and as for cake and biscuit, there seemed
a prospect that there would be a boatload of
them alone.

Margaret Graham hurried home after school,
in a state of great excitement. She was a
girl of about fourteen, a stout, healthy girl,
the only daughter of a widow, who maintained
herself aud her two children by taking in
washing. Margaret was old enough to be a
vreat help to her mother, but in the winter
their work was light, and Mrs. Graham sent
her regularly to school, feeling that the time
now spared would be of incalculable service
to her hereafter. The summer work had be-
gun about a fortnight before, but as the quar-
ter was so nearly ended, Mrs. Graham man-
aged to do the extra work, that Margaret
168 LITTLE GEMS.

might remain till the end of the term, which
was to close with this picnic, on an island
ip the river, much frequented by pleasure
parties.

Mrs. Graham was leaning over her wash-

tub at the brook, in the garden, as Margaret
came up. If she had been thinking of any
thing but her own pleasure, she would have
seen the brightening look on the tired face,
as she came up the path.
+ “Oh, mother!’ she began eagerly, ‘the
picnic is to be to-morrow, and may I go and
look for some berries? Sandy Merrill says
there are plenty on the north lot.”

The bright, expectant look faded from Mrs.
Graham’s face.

“Yes,” she said quietly, “if you will take’
Ally with you. I find it very hard to work
alone with him.”

Ally, a bright little fellow of three or four
years old, who was throwing pebbles into the
brook, stopped and ran up to Margaret,
crying out, “Oh, yes, take me!’’ and Mar-
garet went to the house, and returned with a
LOST AND FOUND. 169

large tin pail and Ally’s hat, but he demurred
—he wanted to carry the pail himself.

“Give him the pint mug,’ said his mother ;
“it is all that he will want to carry when he
is tired, and do not go over the mountain;
Ally is not strong enough to walk far, and it
is past four o’clock now.”

They walked quickly along the field, and
crossing the rail fence, entered the woods.
The great trees gave a pleasant shade after
the sunny meadow they had just crossed, and.
they sauntered on, plucking from either side;
but Sandy Merrill’s report of the fulness of
the land was not found true, for the bottom
of the large pail was scarcely covered, and
the tin mug was yet a light burden for the
little hands.

Ally ran on a little way, when he suddenly
turned, screaming, “‘The wolf! the wolf!”
and running toward his sister, fell prostrate,
whilst a great black animal bounded over
him. Margaret stood for an instant para-
lyzed with terror, when a crackling in the
bushes, followed by a cheerful voice, shout-

15
170 LITTLE GEMS.

ing, “‘Here, Rollo, Rollo!’’ recalled her to
herself, to see that the wolf was Colonel Clem-
shire’s big black Newfoundland dog, and that
the colonel himself, with his gun in his hand,
was coming toward her.

The colonel lifted up the frightened child,
whilst Rollo stood by, looking very penitent,
and Margaret picked up the mug which had
fallen from his hand.

“You will not find many berries here,”
said Colonel Clemshire: over by Muddy
Run they are plenty, but it is too late for
you to go to-night,” and whistling to his dog,
he walked on to the village, whilst Margaret
sauntered on, followed by Ally, but the ber-
ries were few and far between.

“Oh, Margaret, do let us go to Muddy
Run,” said the child; “my cup is not half.
full.”’

Margaret’s mind had been dwelling on the
same thought, but she answered hurriedly,

“You know the colonel said it was too far
for us to go to-night.”

“Oh, no, Maggie, I can walk all the way,”
LOST AND FOUND. 171

said Ally, “‘and you want a big lot of berries
for the party.”

“Mother did not tell us not to go to Muddy
Run,” she said to herself; “she only said
over the mountain.’’ But in her own heart
she knew that any distance was meant.
Stifling her convictions, she took Ally’s hand,
and turned across the woods. The stony
ground was hard for the little feet, but he
trotted on bravely, now and then comforted
by a big berry dropped into his mug with
great care. The way seemed very long, and
after a while Ally’s courage failed. There
was yet no murmur of the brook, and he be-
gan to feel tired and hungry; but the hill be-
gan to slope away, and Margaret hurried on
as she saw the opening in the trees beyond,
where the stream ran through. The brook
was reached, and they turned up its banks,
where the bushes grew thickly between the
trees up on the hilly sides of the stream.
The berries were abundant, and Ally’s mug
was soon filled, but still Margaret pressed on ;
her mind was full of the picnic and the ber-
172 LITTLE GEMS.

ries, and she did not heed the gathering shad-
ows. They had turned away from the brook,
and followed a stretch of bushes growing up
the mountain. Ally began to grow fretful;
he had eaten as many berries as he wanted,
and his mug tired him.

“Oh, Maggie, let us go home, my feet are
tired,” he said twice before she heeded him,
and finding that her pail was nearly full, she
took his hand and turned about; but the path
was lost, and they had strayed too far to be
guided by the meeting of the brook. She
said nothing of her misgivings, but hurried
on, dragging the child, who, footsore and
weary, perplexed her yet more by his cries.

“Do hush, Ally, and let us get home,” she
said, impatiently, and the child, cheered by
the prospect of home, stopped his cries, and
followed, but the shadows grew darker and
darker, and she sat down, worn out, and took
Ally in her arms.

“Oh, Margaret!” sobbed the frightened
child, “do you think the robins will cover us
with leaves ?”
LOST AND FOUND. 173

She was too breathless to answer, and only
hugged him closer. All the stories she had
heard of a panther seen on the mountain came
toher mind. Bears, she knew, might be near,
and every rustling branch increased her ter-
ror. She tried to pray, but the thought of
her disobedience checked her. There was no
deception now—she saw the wrofig without
excusing it to her conscience.

“Maggie, don’t you think God will take
care of us?’ whispered the child. ‘Mother
says he will.” ,

“Yes, he will take care of you, Ally, but I
don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, yes, he will, Maggie, he’s real
good,” said’ the little fellow, nestling up to
her. -

“But I’ve been so wicked,’’ she went on—
in her remorse pouring forth her repentance
even toa child, and trembling yet more as the
branches rustled in the wind—“ Mother told
me not to go over the mountain, and I came
away here; and now we're lost, and God
won't let me go home again.”

15 *
174 LITTLE GEMS.

‘Yes, he will,” persisted the simple child.
“ Mother says he will, if you ask him.”

“But I’m so wicked,” again urged the re-
pentant girl.

“But he’s good,” said the child again.
“Mother says that God don’t love me be-
cause I’m good, for I’m sometimes naughty,
but Christ loves me out of his own great heart.”

The simple words of the child came with a
power of their own to the girl’s heart—
“Christ loves me out of his own great heart!”
poor, sinful, disobedient. ‘The lesson of the
last Sunday-school had been, ‘“ While we were
yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

““T see it all now,” she said to herself;
“while we were yet sinners. Miss Hall tried
to make me understand it, but I could not see
it as Ido now.”’ Ah! Maggie,

“ By paths we have not known
God leads his own.”

It was a holy time. The child slumbered
at her feet, the trees rocked on as before,
there was a great solitude, but God was there,
LOST AND FOUND. 175

and all the fear had died out of her heart.
As she finished the hymn, a light flashed
through the trees, voices seemed to spring
from every quarter of the forest, and she had
scarcely time to start to her feet before Rollo,
with a joyful bark, jumped toward Ally and
licked his face. Margaret hardly knew how
she found her way out of the woods, or an-
swered the hundred questions. Ally was
lifted in strong arms, and never woke till in
his own little bed, with his mother bending
over him. Colonel Clemshire followed them
in, and received the heartfelt thanks of the
weeping group; but he averred that, as he
had been the means of their wandering, it was
but right that he and Rollo should head the
party sent dut for them.

“T knew where to look for them,” he said ;
“that story of mine was a great temptation.”

The pail of berries had been overturned in
the confusion, but Mrs. Graham baked’a large
cake, and Margaret was not the least happy
scholar at the picnic because she had lcarned

one great lesson in the forest alone with God.
s
176 LITTLE GEMS.

AFRAID OF THE DARK.

“MamMA, won’t you please to leawe the
light burning to-night, it’s so dark,” said
Jennie.

“Then you'll go to sleep all the quicker,
Jennie; but if I leave the lamp, you and
Maggie would be awake talking for I don’t
know how long.”

“Oh, no, we won't, will we, Maggie?”

“Then, if you mean to go right to sleep, I
don’t see what you want the lamp lighted
for.”

“ Because it’s so dark, and we’re afraid of
the dark.”

“Afraid of the dark!’ said “Mrs. Mason,
putting the lamp on the table and sitting
down on the bedside. “Pray, what are my
brave little girls afraid of ?”’

“ Oh, of everything,” said Jennie.

“Of ‘everything?’ Poor children, I am
sorry for you; but I never heard of any lions
or bears around here; did you ?”’

e
AFRAID OF THE DARK. 177

“Oh, now, mamma, you’re laughing at us,
you know we didn’t mean lions or bears or
such kind of things.”

‘Well, what kind of ‘things’ do you mean
then?
-used to be afrad to go to bed because of the
Indians; there was some sense in their fear
then, because there really were Indians, and
they used to do terrible things sometimes, but
it’s a great while since I have heard of any in
this part of the country.”

“We don’t care about the Indians,” said
Maggie, a little bit cross, for she was begin-
ning to feel somewhat ashamed of her fears.
“They ain’t anything to be afraid of!”

“ Then I can’t think of anything but thieves;
and they, if they got into the house, would
have to pass the parlour door, and I don’t be-
lieve they could do that without our seeing
them, and I promise you, that if I do see one
pass, I won’t be so frightened as to sit still
and let him come up stairs and carry you off.
Now, haven’t I disposed of ‘everything ?””’

“Why, mamma, Maggie’s afraid of ghosts.”
178 LITTLE GEMS.

“Now, Jennie, ain’t you ashamed? I am
not one bit more afraid of them than you
are!” cried Maggie indignantly.

“‘My dear little girls, I have lived a great
while longer in the world than either of you,
and I never saw a ghost, and I never saw any.
one that had seen one. But even if there
were such things, I don’t see what object any
of them would have in paying you a Visit.
Good spirits have something better to do than
to go wandering about the world, frightening
silly little girls; and as for evil spirits, I
don’t think our heavenly Father would per-
mit them to amuse themselves at the expense
of any of hig children.”

“Oh, mamma, we did not really believe
there were any such things as ghosts, but
don’t you know how queerly things look in
the dark sometimes? Nota bit like them-
selves; 50 you can imagine them almost any-
thing,” said Maggie.

“Yes, my child, and I remember that I
was once as foolish as you, and though such
fears are foolish, they are not unnatural.”
AFRAID OF THE DARK. 179

“Why, mamma, were you ever afraid of
anything ?”’ cried Maggie, in her surprise lift-
ing her curly head from the pillow into which
she had buried it at the thought of those fear-
ful images her brain had conjured.

“T never would’ have guessed it, mamma.
I’m sure you go around the house at night
without a lamp, as brave as anything,” said
Jennie.

“Well, but I don’t go looking all the time
for ghosts and robbers, and all sorts of imagi-
nary horrors, as you would do, or as I might
have done myself when I was but a little
girl.”

“Then you really were as bad as Jennie
and me! Do tell us something that fright-
ened you, mamma.”

“Well, I remember one night waking up
and looking around the room for something
to be afraid of, I suppose; and as when one
is determined to be frightened, they’re sure
to find something, so I at last succeeded in
discovering, as I thought, a just cause of,
alarm.”
180 LITTLE GEMS.

“Oh, mamma, what did you see?’ cried
both children.

“T saw, or thought I saw, something white
moving on the other side of the room. It
looked very strange and frightful, I thought,
so I held my breath and peered at it through
the darkness. While I was watching it, it
moved again; yes, it certainly did keep mov-
ing. I thought of all sorts of possible and
impossible things; and how I did wish mo-
ther would wake!”

“Why,” said Jennie, “I never think of
being afraid when I sleep with you, mamma;
I feel just as safe as can be.”

“Ah, Jennie, if you felt as much trust and
confidence in our heavenly Father as you do
in me, you would soon overcome all your fear
of the dark.”

* Qh, please go on, mamma!” cried Maggie,
who had been listening breathless to her mo-
ther’s story, and was impatient of any inter-
ruption.

“‘My excitement soon reached its height,
‘and I uttered a loud scream, which awoke
AFRAID OF THE DARK. 181

mother. She soon discovered the cause of
my alarm, and, lighting the candle, bade me
see for myself what the fearful object was,
and what do you think it proved to be, chil-
dren?”

‘Oh, I’m sure,” cried Maggie, “ there was
somebody in the room !”

*“T don’t believe there was anybody,” said
Jennie: “I guess it was only some clothes
lying on a chair.”

“ Clothes don’t move,”’ said Maggie.

“Tf you look at them long enough,” said
Jennie, “‘and imagine they do, they seem to,
I know.”

““You’ve come pretty near it, Jennie; it
was a curtain, and the window being open,
the breeze caused the curtain to sway gently
back and forth.”

“‘Qh, only a curtain!” cried Maggie, in a
somewhat disappointed tone.

“ Yes, that was all; and if you-would only
determine, when you see anything at night
that alarms you, to get up and see for your-

self what it is, you would often find the ter-
16
182 LITTLE GEMS.

rible wbject to be ‘only a curtain,’ or, per-
haps, something even less frightful. There
is an old saying among the Irish: ‘Watch
well by daylight, but keep no watch in dark-
ness, for then God watches over you.’ ”

“Oh, mamma, what a pretty idea!” said
Jennie.

‘Yes, it is a beautiful thought, and shows
a sweet trust in the care of that loving Fa-
ther, ‘who neither slumbers nor sleeps.’ You
know the Bible says, ‘The angel of the Lord
encampeth round about them that fear him;’
so, if my little girls really love him, and will
ask him to take care of them, I don’t see what
they have to fear.”

‘“‘T know, mamma,” said Maggie timidly ;
“but when I’m frightened, God seems so
far off.”’

“You must try, my child, not to think of
him as far off just because you cannot see
him. You say that when you sleep with me
you never feel afraid, and yet in the dark you
cannot see me. You must learn to ‘walk by
faith,’ not by ‘sight,’ my dear children, and
AFRAID OF THE DARK. 183

the older you grow the more you will feel
your need of that faith. There may come
many dark hours in your lives; you may be
called to pass through many trials, and then,
if you cannot look through the darkness to
the Sun of Righteousness beyond ; if you can-
not walk trustfully on through it all, in hum-
ble faith that a loving Father is watching over
you and leading you, by the way that seems
to him best, into the regions of light beyond,
I fear, dear children, that you will be lost for
ever in the darkness. I did not mean to talk
to you so long; it is late now and I must
leave you; but I want you both, before you
go to sleep, to ask God to watch over you,
and keep you safe this night for his dear
Son’s sake.”

Then Mrs. Mason bade them “ good night,”
and was going, when Jennie said,

“ Please take the light, mamma; we don’t
feel a bit afraid now.”

“No,” added Maggie, “and we’ll try never
to be so foolish again.”

Mrs. Mason kissed the children, and went
184 LITTLE GEMS.

down stairs. They talked for a few minutes
about what their mother had told them, and
then shutting their eyes, were soon fast asleep.

FAITH.

THERE was a new picture in the house. It
had a dark frame around it, ornamented with
gilt crosses. It hung between two other pic-
tures. One was “St. John and the Lamb,”
and the other a picture of little Samuel say-
ing his prayers. All the family had just come
in from the tea-table to look at the picture
except Charlie, who had stayed behind to fin-
ish his strawberries and cream, and take an
extra lump from the sugar-bowl when no one
was looking. ,

The father and mother seemed to like it
very much. The mother said—

“How beautiful! How expressive!” and
then sighed.

“T heard a gentleman say that the face was
FAITH. 185

beautiful, and the figure was beautiful, the
attitude striking, and the draperies well ar-
ranged. He did not seem to enter at all into
the spirit of the picture,” said the father.

“Poh! I don’t see anything beautiful or
expressive in it,’ said Fred. “It’s only a
lady looking at a cross, and she’s got on a
long dress, and her hands are folded. I don’t
see anything pretty about the cross.”

“Tt hasn’t got any flowers, nor nothing,”
said Eva, who had never studied Bullion’s
Grammar.

“T wish you had bought another picture I
saw instead of this,’’ said Fred. “It was a
picture of one monkey painting another mon-
key. They both had on caps and clothes.
It was so queer—a great deal better than
this.”

“Look at this, my son, and see if you can
learn any lesson,’’ said his father.

So Fred put his hands behind him and
stared with all his might, but he couldn’t for
the life of him see anything but a lady and a
Cross.

16°
186 LITTLE GEMS.

“No, it does not teach me any lesson,’’ he
said decidedly.

“Tt does me,”’ said Eva; ‘it says, ‘ Wait.

‘“‘Ah, you are coming near it. The name
of that picture is ‘Faith.’ It is an emblem
of faith. You see the meek attitude, the
folded hands, the eyes looking at the cross,
and at nothing else. There are no flowers,
as Eva says, nothing but the naked cross.
Sit down here and let us talk about it.”

Eva plunged into a corner of the sofa.
Fred established himself a la Turk in a rock-
ing chair, with a palm-leaf fan in his hand
to keep him out of mischief, and Charlie came
in from» the dining-room with his mouth
full.

“What is faith?” said Fred. “Td like to
know now, really and truly. Everybody is
talking about it.”

‘“‘My dear boy, you surely know,” said his
mother.

‘“‘Yes, I know; it means to believe; but I
don’t understand it. When any one wants to
be a Christian, they always tell them to re-
FAITH. 187

pent and believe, and have faith, and I don’t
see how it is done.”

“Do you think you are a naughty boy,
Fred?” said his father.

“Not very. Not so bad as some others.”’

“ Do you think you are fit to go to heaven?”

“No, I think not. Everybody is so very
good up there.”

‘Who can make you fit to go there?”

“ Only Jesus, you have told me.”

“Yes, only Jesus can wash away your sins;
but what must you do?”

“T don’t know.

“You must ask God for Christ’s sake to
forgive you. Do you not want to be his child,
when he loves you so much, and has suffered
and died for you, and wants you to come to
him? Would you not like to belong to Jesus,
and be his little boy, and please only him ?”

“Yes,” said Fred, in a low voice.

“And how can you doit? You must go
to God just as you are, and ask him to take
your heart and make you his own child.”

“But God seems way up in heaven. I
188 LITTLE GEMS.

shut my eyes and pray, and it seems as if I
was talking to the air and that God was a
hundred thousand miles off, and could not
hear me.”

“You need faith then; faith to believe that
God lives, that Jesus loves you and hears
you; to believe just what God says with your
whole heart—that is what faith is.”

Fred looked sober and twirled about his
fan.

“Papa!” said Eva, opening her blue eyes
very wide, as if she had just waked up.

“Well, darling?”

“T’ve thought of something our Sabbath-
school teacher told us. She said that there
was a little girl, and her father was down
cellar getting some apples, or doing some-
thing else down there, and there was a trap
door which opened down, and it all looked
very dark. She heard. her father’s voice, and
ran along to the door, and said, ‘Papa, are
you down there?’ and he said, ‘ Yes, I’m here;
jump right into my arms, and I will catch
you.’ She could not see him, and she was a
FAITH. 189

little afraid, but she jumped and he caught
her. My teacher said that was faith.”

“That’s it, my children. That is just like
Christ. He opens his arms and says, ‘Suffer
little children to come unto me.’ You can’t
see him—it is all dark; but you hear his
words, and you can go to him just as that lit-
tle girl did to her father, and he will put his
everlasting arms about you. Let us pray.”’

They knelt down, and the father put his
hands on the heads of his children, and prayed
that they might have faith, that they might
know the Lord Jesus, that he would take
away all their sin and make them lambs in
the fold of the Good Shepherd.

And the angel of God, who swings the
golden censer before the golden altar in
heaven, in which are the prayers of the saints
mingled with much incense, added one more
prayer, which came*up before God. And
when those little wandering feet shall be
guided into the fold, who shall say that prayer
was not one link in the chain of love that
brought them to Jesus?
190 LITTLE GEMS.

Faith! The picture hung on the wall, a
silent reminder of the other life. There were
no Madonnas nor Cupids in that parlour,—
only pictures which left a sweet and holy in-
fluence upon those children; bright faces,
which always seemed to them like dear friends,
and nurtured in them a taste for the truly
beautiful and good.

JACK MILLER.

Jack MILLER was thirteen years old. He
was ragged, dirty, and bad. One day a little
fellow met him in the street and persuaded
him to go with him to Sunday-school. If
you have ever taken a poor degraded boy by
the hand and led him to the Sabbath school,
you know how little Rickard felt when he: said
to his teacher, “ This is Jack Miller, and he’s
coming every Sunday; ain’t you, Jack ?”
Room was made for the new scholar, and as
the teacher answered the questions which the
JACK MILLER. 191

boys asked about the lesson, and told them
of the love of Jesus, Jack became so much in-
terested that he quite forgot that his clothes
were ragged and poor, while all around looked
nice and clean.

At the close of the school the teacher, Mr.
G , told Jack that he always wanted to
have a little talk with new scholars, so that
he and they might feel wellacquainted. ‘“‘Come
to my house on Thursday evening,” said Mr.
G , “and we will have our talk. Will
you come?” Jack came, and after a while the
teacher learned from him his history.

When Jack was quite a little boy he ran
away from home because his father made
rules he did not like. Ever since he had
been doing just what he liked. He was de-
ceitful, wicked, bad. He cared for no one,
and he thought no one cared for him.

“ Jack,” said. Mr. G » ‘who took care
of you when you were a baby? Did not your
father give you everything you had that was
good? And, Jack, why did he make those
rules you did not like? Was it not because






192 LITTLE GEMS.

he knew what was for your good? Do you
not think he wanted you to become a useful
man, and knew that you needed these very
rules? Think what you are to-day. Your
clothes are ragged and worn, your habits are
bad. You cannot even tell one good thing
you have said, thought, or done. You are
almost without friends, and your prospects are
poor enough. If you had stayed at home and
kept your father’s rules, how different you
would have been to-night!”

Jack knew it was all true. He felt that
he was a bad boy, and thought he was getting
worse every day. He cried, though he hardly
knew why.

“Cannot we do something for you?” said
Mr. G “Ts there no way for you to
become a good boy and make a useful man?
Can you not find a good home and learn to
do well?”

“No,” said Jack, “I am too bad.”

“Tiave you ever tried? Have you ever
told your father you were sorry that you had
not loved him, and stayed at home and kept


JACK MILLER. 193

his rules? Perhaps he would receive you if
you should ask his forgiveness.”

“TI don’t believe he would,” said Jack ;
“and besides, I have done wrong so long that
I couldn’t be good if I tried.”

“Well, Jack,” said Mr. G , “LT think
we are acquainted now. You go back to-
night where you are living, think about our
talk, pray God to help you to do right, and let
me see you on Sunday morning.” Jack left,
after kneeling while his teacher prayed for
him.

Next Sabbath Jack was not at Sabbath-
school. Little Richard went to see the old
woman where Jack had boarded, but she knew
nothing of him. Week after week passed,
but no word came from Jack.

One Sunday, as Mr. G entered the
school-room he found Jack waiting for him in
his class. But what a change! Now he was
well dressed and clean, and his eyes were
bright and cheerful. His story was soon
told.

After leaving Mr. G

17







’s house he spent
194 LITTLE GEMS.

the night, as he said, “thinking and making
up his mind.’’ In the morning he quietly
started for home. After a few days’ hard
travelling he stood before his father’s door.
Here he hesitated, but remembering his reso-
lution he knocked, and the door was opened
by his father, and he stood face to face with
him whom he had so wronged. His father
was delighted to see him, listened as Jack told
how bad he had been, and while he asked
forgiveness promised to try to be a good boy.
His father gladly forgave him, put clean
clothes on him, sent him to school, and helped
him to be good. Now Jack came to thank
Mr. G because he had led him to do
right.

“Are you always good now?’’ asked the
teacher.

“Oh no,”’ said Jack, “Ido a great many
things that are wrong, but now I try to do
right.”

How many boys are like Jack Miller! My
little friends, who read this story, perhaps
you are like him. Tlave you left your heav-


THE CHILD AND THE INFIDEL. 195

enly Father? Now perhaps you are begin-
ning to find out how kind God is, and that
all his commands are for your good. Have
you found out also, like Jack, that your way
is a bad way? That you are not really
happy? That your heart is deceitful, wicked,
bad? Then do as Jack did. Go to your
Father ; tell him how bad you have been; and
while you ask his forgiveness, promise to love
and serve him. Your Father will be glad to
receive you to his love. He will take off
from you the dirty rags of sin, and dress you
in the beautiful robes of Christ’s righteous-
ness. He will teach you what is right, and
help you to be good.

THE CHILD AND THE INFIDEL.

OnE bright Sabbath morning, a little girl,
neatly clad, was passing through the green
fields; but she did not stop, as she usually
did, to chase the gay butterflies that were
196 LITTLE GEMS.

flitting from flower to flower, or to peep into
the birds’ nests that she knew were concealed
among the bushes, and shaded from the sun
by the cool leaves. Neither did she stop to
watch the fantastic evolutions of the little fish
that were gliding along in the brook. But
she looked at the butter-cups and daisies that
were nodding to the breeze, and she gathered
a few violets that were modestly peeping out
from their green bed, all glistening with the
dew. And as she glanced over the emerald
fields, all gemmed with white and golden flow-
ers, and saw, the waving trees, and inhaled
the sweet odor of the clover blossoms, and
listened to the song of the birds, and looked
up at the blue sky and bright sunshine, her
heart was lifted up to the good Father, who
had made all things so beautiful; and she
thought, if this world was so fair, how glori-
ous heaven must be, where God and the angels
dwelt. As she came to a shady spot, where
the branches of the willows drooped to kiss
the rivulet, she sat down to rest, and taking
a book from her little basket, which she car-
THE CHILD AND THE INFIDEL. 197

ried in her hand, she commenced reading
aloud. Her voice was very soft and sweet,
and at first clear and distinct; but as she con-
tinued reading, the tears gleamed in her blue
eyes, and her tones became tremulous with
emotion.

“Why do you weep, pretty child?” said a
voice beside her.

She looked up, and beheld a young man
standing near, who, unperceived by her, had
been listening while she read.

“Because I do not love Him better who
died for me,” replied the child, lifting her
blue eyes, gleaming with tears, to his face.
“Oh, sir, I am a great sinner, because I don’t
love Jesus better than everything in the
world.”

“You have never seen Jesus; how could
you love him better than your parents, who
take care of you, and your brothers and sis-
ters—if you have any—who love you and
play with you every day ?”

“Oh, sir, that’s it; sometimes I am afraid
that I love then better than my Saviour, and

17 *
198 LITTLE GEMS.

that makes me cry; because I ought to love
him better than all of them.”

* But you have never seen him.”

“No, I have never seen him, but I am go-
ing to see him. I am going to live with him
in heaven for ever.”

“ How do you know that ?”

“Because I am sorry for my sins, and I
love the Saviour; and all that repent and
love the Saviour, are going to him when they
die, to live with him for ever.”

“ Where is heaven ?”

“Tt is away up there in the blue sky, where
Jesus and the angels live.”’

“ What kind of a place is heaven ?”’

“Oh, it is a very beautiful place, and a
very happy place.”

“Ts it pleasanter than this world?” in-
quired the young man, glancing around at the
beautiful scenery.

“‘Qh, yes, a great deal pleasanter! I was
just wondering a little while ago, as I was
crossing the meadow, how it could be any
pleasanter in heaven than it was on earth;
THE CHILD AND TIE INFIDEL. 199

but while I was wondering, I felt the sun
pcorching me, and I saw an ugly snake in the
grass, and then I did not wonder any more.”

“So they don’t have any scorching sun or
snakes in heaven?’’ said the young man,
smiling.

“No, there is no sun theres for God makes
it light; there is nothing there that can hurt
any one—no death, or pain, or sickness, or
sorrow.”

“Then that is what makes heaven more
beautiful than earth, isn’t it?’

“No, that makes it pleasanter; but it is
more beautiful, too, because, don’t you know
the Bible says, ‘Eye has not seen, nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of
man, the things which God hath prepared for
them that love him;’ so it must be glorious,
for our eyes see very beautiful things, and
our ears hear sweet music sometimes. Just
listen now, how sweetly the birds are singing;
but the angels sing a great deal sweeter..”

* But how do you know the Bible is true?”

* Because it is God’s book.”
200 LITTLE GEMS.

“But how do you know there is a God ?”

‘Because there is a world, and people in
it, and everything beautiful ; and besides, God
tells me so himself.”

“ How does he tell you? Does he whisper
in your ear ?”’

‘No; he telis me right here,’’ replied the
child, laying her hand upon her breast.

For some moments the young man remained
silent, apparently lost-in deep thought, then,
rousing up suddenly, he said, “ What is your
name, my little monitress ?”

“ Angela, sir.”

* Angel—that is an appropriate name,—
and if there be angels on earth, why not in
heaven?’ murmured the young man. “ Well,
my pretty angel, where do you live? You
are not a fairy, are you, making your home
amid the bowers ?”’

“T live yonder, over the hill,”’ replied the
child, pointing in the direction of her father’s
cottage.

“ And have you come all this way to read
your Bible in this pleasant spot ?”
THE CHILD AND THE INFIDEL. 201

* Oh no, sir; I am going to church and to
Sunday-school, and I stopped here to rest,
and I thought I would read a little in my
Bible about the Saviour. I love to read
about the Saviour, but it makes me cry when
I read how cruelly he was treated.”

“Oh, could I but have that child’s faith, I
would give the whole world !’’ exclaimed the
young man vehemently. “Can it be? Is
there a God?”

“Don’t you believe *there is a God, sir?”
inquired the child, approaching him, and look-
ing earnestly at him.

He turned and walked rapidly away. But
he did not spend the day roaming over the
hills with his gun, as he designed doing, but
passed the greater portion of it in the sanc-
tuary. Through the words of that little child
God had seat an arrow of conviction to his
soul, and he found no rest till he had bowed
at the foot of the cross, and sought and found
forgiveness through a crucified Redeemer.
202 LITTLE GEMS.

LITTLE SINS.

“Mamma,” said Lucy Grant one evening,
to her mother, “will you tell me what is a
little sin ?”

“My child, no sin could be little, though
some may be called greater than others. But
what makes you ask that question ?”

“ Mamma, I was playing after school to-day
with Jane, and Ellen, and Robert Hamilton.
The governess walkéd across the yard, and
pulled out her pocket-handkerchief, and a
pencil came out and rolled away, but she did
not observe it. When she was gone, Robert
ran after it, saying, ‘Oh, what a capital pen-
cil!—just the very thing I was in want of!’
I said, ‘ Robert, it is not yours; you must not
keep it; that would be a great sin.’ ‘Qh,’
he replied, ‘Governess can get plenty more,
and it is only a penny pencil; it will be but
a little sin.” Mamma, was Robert right ?”’

“ Lucy, what reason have we to hope that
God will pardon any of our sins ?”

* Because Jesus died.”
LITTLE SINS. 208

“Ts there any sin too great to be forgiven
for Jesus’ sake ?”’

“No, mamma.”

“ But may we not ask God to pardon our
small sins in some other way ?”

Lucy thought for a minute; but she an-
swered, “No, I do not think there is any
other.”

“Certainly not. Well, my love, can we
think any sin a little thing, if Christ must
have died that it might be forgiven ?

‘But now I shall tell you a story. Some
years ago, before you were born, papa and
I lived in an old,house, quite near the sea.
There was a low wall at the foot of the gar-
den, where we used often to sit, and admire
the pure waves coming in below, and the
pretty vessels sailing past. One lovely sum-
mer evening we were sitting there; all. was
calm; the clear water reflected the red sun-
set clouds of the sky, and the white sails of
the ships. Just then we saw a man anda
boy preparing to set out in a fishing-boat,
from a little pier at a short distance from our
204 LITTLE GEMS.

garden. The air was so still we could hear
them speak. The boy looked down in the
boat, and said, ‘Father, the water is coming
in.’ ‘Qh,’ said the man, ‘there is a small
leak ; but never mind; it will do us no harm ;
it would not be good in a storm, but,’ looking
at the sky, ‘there is no fear to-night; so
come along.’ So they hoisted the sail, and
we heard them singing merrily as they moved
out to sea.

“The sun had quite set, and the darkness
was coming on, before we went into the house.
In a short time we felt that there was a
change in the weather. The wind began to
rise, and whistled through the passages, mak-
ing the doors and windows shake, and soon
we heard the noise of the waves dashing up
against the garden wall. We were quite safe
and comfortable, but our thoughts turned anx-
iously to the many ships and boats we had
seen so lately on the quiet waters.

‘Then we thought we heard cries from the
sea, and, between the large waves, the sound
of a bell, as if some one were in great dis-
LITTLE SINS. 205

tress. We could not rest at home, and we
went down to the shore. The people of the
village were all running about, the women
sobbing and screaming, the men calling for
the life-boat. We could see, in the darkness,
a feeble light flimmering out at sea, and again
the bell rang violently. Then the light disap-
peared, and we did not hear the bell again,
but cries for help seemed to come on the wind.
“‘ By this time the life-boat was ready, and
four strong men jumped into it, and made for
the place where the light had last been seen.
Oh, how eagerly we looked, and listened, and
watched for their return! God was very
merciful, and they were not too late. They
found the man and boy we had watched in the
evening still clinging to the mast; but their
boat had gone down. And what had sunk
their boat? Just the small leak. Do you
think it appeared small to them then, that
dreary night, when the winds and water were
-rising round them ?
« “Now learn, my dear child, never to call
any sin a little thing. Remember how great
18
206 LITTLE GEMS.

it will look on a sick and dying bed, and how
much greater when we stand before the judg-
ment seat of Christ.”

*
THE LAW OF LOVE.

Aunt Mary sat at her work-table so busy
with her needle and her thoughts, as to have
quite forgotten that there was any living
thing in the room beside. A fierce “miow,
miow, miow,” followed by the quick bound
of a cat across the room, startled her, and
turning sharply around, she saw poor puss
drawn up to her full dignity, with bristling
back and eyes which darted vengeful fires at
her adversary, while she lashed her sides
with her long tail in true lion-like style. Her
adversary was no other than Aunt Mary’s
favourite nephew, who sat opposite in his
little arm chair. With one hand firmly
grasped in the other, he was surveying the
@utraged animal from head to foot, and hurl-
THE LAW OF LOVE. 207

ing back her indignant glances with looks of
defiance and triumph.

It was some seconds before Aunt Mary
quite comprehended the relations of the par-
ties; but as the affair began to clear itself to
her mind, she wisely judged that an indignant
attack upon the little victor would not be the
course most likely to assuage his wrath or
soften his heart. So she addressed him in
her usual kind words and tones:

“ What’s the matter with you and ¢ Chub,’
Johnnie?”

Johnnie did not say, as perhaps some little
folks would have done, “Nothing,” for John-
bie had been carefully taught to speak the
truth ; but he did answer in such a way as to
show how completely passion filled his heart.

“ She’s a good-for-nothing cat and ought
to be killed.” *

“Why, that’s rather hard upon your little
pet. What did she do to you?”

“Why, I had her in my lap playing with
her, tickling her, you know, when all at once
she began to bite and scratch so hard that J
208 LITTLE GEMS.

boxed her ears. But she wouldn’t stop then,
so I pulled her tail. But she wouldn’t let go
of my hand then, so I twitched it away, and
just pounded her with my fist, and she flew
across the room like a mad creature. And
just see what she did to me.’ So saying, he
came up to his aunt, and held up the torn
hand which showed marks of teeth and claws,
and one long scratch besides, reaching from
the forefinger to the wrist, whose edges were
sorely bleeding.

“Oh, that is a cruel scratch. Did you
tickle Chub pretty hard?”

“T didn’t at first; but then I thought I
would see how hard I could tickle her, and
she clawed me like that.”’

“Do you’think if you had tickled pussy
very gently all the time, that she would have
scratched you at all?’

“T don’t know. Perhaps she wouldn’t.”’

“Do you really think that the first fault
was yours or pussy’s?’’ Johnnie did not
answer.

“Don’t you think,” said his aunt again,
THE LAW OF LOVE. 209

“that pussy treated you pretty much as she
found you treated her?” Johnnie nodded.

“Many years ago, Johnnie, there lived a
famous people called the Greeks. They had
among them some very wise men who gave
laws to the nation and rules by which they
should govern their daily conduct. The
highest, best. rule they could give was, ‘Do
unto others as they do unto you.’ Don’t you
think Chub has followed that rule pretty
faithfully ?”

‘Yes, ma’am,””

“By and by there came a wiser man to the
earth, and he gave another rule. What was
it?” Johnnie shook his head.

“As you would that men should do to you,
do ye also to them likewise.”

“Oh, that was Jesus Christ.” ’

“Yes, he gave the Golden Rule. Do you
think you kept it just now?”

“Why, but—but it’s for men, not for cats
and dogs, and such things.”

“Then, I suppose, it is perfectly right to
let your heart be filled with angry passion

18 *
210 LITTLE GEMS.

towards dumb animals, and to fret and tease
them until they get angry too, and then when
they try to defend themselves, turn upon
them and beat them until they flee from you
in pain and hatred?”

“*No, auntie, I don’t think that is right.
I think it would be very cruel,’’ said Jobn-
nie, whose feeling was beginning to right
itself.

“Then you think we had better give up
the old Greek rule and follow Jesus’ rule
of kindness and love toward brutes as well as
men.”

“Yes, ma'am. But, auntie, sometimes
they are so cross and ugly, we have to
strike them, you know, or they would hurt
us.”

“;And sometimes men, and even children,
behave so that they have to be punished, or
shut up, to keep them from injuring others.
And this too, when they have a reason, a
soul, which the poor brute has not. But to
punish or correct an animal for being ugly, is
one thing, and to whip it because you have
THE LAW OF LOVE. 211

put it into a passion, or to abuse it because it
don’t understand you, is quite another. The
first is just and necessary, and the second fs
as cruel and wicked as can be. And, my lit-
tle Johnnie, the creature knows it too—not
the sin, but the injustice. God has given it
an instinct, as he has given you a reason;
and whenever you ill-treat it, you wound,
you outrage that sense, and so do violence to
the work of God.

“A great amount of what you call ugliness
in animals, has been caused by the ill-treat-
ment they receive from men. They are very
much what men make them. If a man is
kind to his horse, his horse will be kind and
obedient to him. If a little boy is kind to
his dog and cat, they will be pleasant com-
panions to him. But it will be very easy to
make them cross and snappish, if he sets them
a different example; for as they cannot learn
the Golden Rule, they will follow the Greek
Rule. I have some stories I can tell you
about this; but there is not time this morn-
ing. Another day you shall hear them. You
212 LITTLE GEMS.

had better go now and make up with poor
Chub, for she is looking quite disconsolate.”’
* Johnnie sat down by her and gently stroked
her back. She opened and shut her eyes as
if in grateful acknowledgment, then laid back
her ears and lifted her nose towards him, and
finally putting first one paw on his knee, and
then another, crept carefully into his lap,
and then snuggling down, began softly to
purr.

“You are not a bad cat, after all,’’ said
Johnnie to himself, “and I will never treat
you so again.”

THE LITTLE TRAVELLERS TO THE
LAND OF LIGHT.

Ir was early morning in a forest, where,
chasing gay butterflies, winding bright wreaths,
and shouting merrily, sported a band of chil-
dren. Under an oak tree apart from the
rest a little boy was seated, with a book upon
TRAVELLERS TO THE LAND OF LIGHT. 213

his knee. For a long time he traced the
golden letters eagerly, heedless of the merry
laughter around him; then rising, he closed
the book, and walking towards the gay group,
exclaimed: ‘“‘ Why should we spend our time
chasing these butterflies and twining flowers
which fade so soon? Oh, come with me, and
I will show you the way to a land where the
sun shines a thousand times more brightly.
Come, and I will lead you where the flowers
never fade.”

Then the children laughed tauntingly, and
asked how ke became so wise, but the little
boy replied not angrily, he only unclasped the
book and read to them of a beautiful Jand,
where were a “fountain of life” and “ever-
lasting light.” Then the children ‘laughed
still louder, and said that he had been dream-
ing beneath the oak tree and was not yet
awake; but as they danced away after fresh
flowers, from the band a little girl stepped
forward, and raising her meek, blue eyes to
the child’s, said, as she clasped his hand, “I
will go with you to that bright land. It is
?
214 LITTLE GEMS.

dark in this forest, and the fountains here
only make me feel more thirsty. I long for
the living waters. See, my gay wreath so
lately twined is fadin fast. Oh, let us
hasten where the flowers never fade!”

One sad glance the child cast behind him.
Once more he pleaded with the others to fol-
low, then hand in hand the children started on.

“How can we ever find the way to the
fountain of life in the land of everlasting
light?” asked the little girl.

“Do you not see footsteps,’ replied the
child, ‘‘footsteps before us? Wg must follow
them. They are our Father’s, and he will
lead us to our bright home.”

Then joyfully the little children hastened
on over the green grass, amid gay flowers,
but soon in their path arose steep rocks and
in these rocks were the footsteps.

“Oh, I can follow no longer,” exclaimed
the little girl, “these: rocks are so sharp.
There must be some easier way home than
this.”

“No, no,” replied the little boy, “ there is

,
TRAVELLERS TO THE LAND OF LIGHT. 215

none other than whither these footsteps lead.
We must overcome all difficulties, we must
keep marching on.” ‘Then opening the book,
he read in letters of gold: ‘“‘He that over-
cometh shall inherit all things, and I will
give him the morning star.” And the little
girl’s heart rejoiced at the words, and her
eyes beamed so brightly, as she thought of
her inheritance in the land of light, that she
almost forgot her feet were on sharp rocks.
At times their path would be near rippling
brooks, and over green meadows, where the
sunlight streamed brightly; but strange as it
May seem, when on steep rocks, or amid
sharp thorns, where the trees were the thick-
est, and earth’s sun-rays faintest, then it was
that the light shone brightest around the
children’s path, and the light seemed to come
from beyond the forest, where Jay their home.
‘Sometimes the children would be tempted to
stray from the footsteps, to linger twining
bright flowers, only to see them fade, but in
golden letters they would read that it pleased
not their loving Father to have them loiter by
216 LITTLE GEMS.

the roadside, and then regaining the footsteps,
they would sing of their bright home in the
distance and march joyfully on.

At last the children reached a valley, where
the trees interlaced their branches so closely
that no sun-ray could pierce through, yet the
valley was not dark, it was radiant with the
glorious light from beyond, and joyfully, hand,
in hand, the little children entered its depths,
for they knew their journey was almost done;
they knew the fountain of life, whose streams
of living waters had so often refreshed them
when weary, was almost gained; and brighter,
still brighter, beamed their eyes, till the
valley was passed and the children entered
the land of light, there to ‘shine forth as the
sun in the kingdom of their Father.”

THE END.
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Soest teend EEN UEEIS MSS!

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eae f tere ratscaneee ee eerey S
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pen-rora gages 3
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se oe
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BR PR RTS SS
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Eup annie ines a sien x SBE
series carrey is é es zs sysfs seaa
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SSEADSY
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33: Seheoeedsoee oe
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Harney Sues eee oi
Peert tate cet tond es
seve sitptt ‘t Maes
presieees a
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Dagevion tera res
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pistes
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Ro ese ES Ses
spatiat pees

73 phi y a pes
Sates ersten =e
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Stores

ars

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. aot eee Patt
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ates Sie eee
peed ae

tae TE TS
tals 40 ghee yao byes.


TAL ity
ag Migdt eigae
Ping

es
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