Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Try Again
 Lowly and Wise
 A Good Book Deserves a Good...
 The Little Wanderer
 Justice and Generosity
 The Crow and the Pitcher
 Present and Future
 Winter Songs
 The King and His Men
 I Wish I Were Rich
 Story of a Dog
 The Indian Convert
 Trusted and Trusty; or, the Ship...
 The Caliph
 The Little Sower
 John Kitto
 Back Cover

Group Title: Favorite stories for the young
Title: Try again, and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026984/00001
 Material Information
Title: Try again, and other stories
Series Title: Favorite stories for the young
Physical Description: 120 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
T. Nelson and Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1873
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1873   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1873
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by A.L.O.E.
General Note: Added title page illustrated in colors; other illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026984
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002238912
notis - ALH9436
oclc - 60313639

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Half Title
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Title Page
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Try Again
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    Lowly and Wise
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    A Good Book Deserves a Good Binding
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The Little Wanderer
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Justice and Generosity
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    The Crow and the Pitcher
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Present and Future
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    Winter Songs
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The King and His Men
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    I Wish I Were Rich
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Story of a Dog
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    The Indian Convert
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
    Trusted and Trusty; or, the Ship on Fire
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
    The Caliph
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
    The Little Sower
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    John Kitto
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
    Back Cover
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
Full Text
This page contains no text.

The Baldwin L-braryI(mB ..

T-RY AGAIN,Jnsb Other Stories.--st-ts51*p^^ IT--

This page contains no text.

ALOEJT- ,,. -.,- .. t,


f on tents.I. TRY AGAIN, ... .. ... ... ... 7II. LOWLY AND WISE, ... ... ... ... ... 131. A GOOD BOOK DESERVES A GOOD BINDING, ... ... 19IV. THE LITTLE WANDERER, ... ... ... ... 23V. JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY, ... ... ... .. 32VI. THE CROW AND THE PITCHER, ... ... ... 30VII. PRESENT AND FUTURE, ... ... ... ... 43VIII. WINTER SONGS, ... ... ... ... ... 46IX. THE KING AND HIS MEN, ... ... ... ... 55X. I WISH I WERE RICH, ... ... ... ... 59XI. STORY OF A DOG, ... ... ... ... ... 65XII. THE INDIAN CONVERT, ... ... .. ... 77XIII. TRUSTED AND TRUSTY ; OR, THE SHIP ON FIRE, ... ... 88XIV. THE CALIPH, .. ... ... 99XV. THE LITTLE SOWER, ... .. .. ... ... 103XVI. JOHN KITTO, ... ... ..... 116

This page contains no text.

I.TRY AGAIN.""T'S no use trying, I'll give it all up !"exclaimed Neddy with a burst ofsorrow, as he looked down on thetorn kite which he had trampled onwhen in a passion, because he couldnot release himself from the long tail whichhad become entangled round his leg. " HereI've been trying every day, all this weeklong, from Monday to Saturday, to keep mytemper for one whole day, to gain the bookwhich papa offered to me as a prize, andevery day I've broken all my good resolu-tions and gone into a pet about one thingor other I'll give up trying altogether !""And would that be a wise thing for my

8 TRY AGAIN.little boy to do?" said his mother, Mrs.Stace, gently drawing her child towards her."Just look at my kite " sobbed Neddy."Perhaps matters may be mended here,"said Mrs. Stace, gently disengaging thetangled string from the leg of the boy;"and as for 'the poor torn kite, we'll seewhat a little paste and paper will do tomend that big hole.""They can't mend my horrible temper !"cried Neddy, who was sadly disheartened athis failure.Now, perhaps my readers will wonder atthe mother dealing so gently with such a,passionate child, instead of punishing orreproving. But Mrs. Stace knew that poorNeddy had an excuse for his temper thatmost little children have not, for it was asad and painful illness that had helped tomake him so fretful. Besides, she knewthat Neddy grieved over his temper, andwas very anxious indeed to become morepatient and good; so, instead of beingangry with him, she sought to give himencouragement and help in his strugglewith the sin which beset him.

TRY AGAIN. 9"I'll give up trying to be patient," sighedNeddy. " I'm sure that I'll never be agood-tempered boy.""Did you ever hear the story of thebrave King Robert Bruce and the spider ?"asked Mrs. Stace, opening a book whichcontained a beautiful print of a warriorstretched on the ground in a cave, watchinga spider making its web.Neddy was very fond of pictures, and stillmore fond of stories, so that the change inthe conversation made him forget his troublefor awhile, and he asked his mother to tellhim what that man had to do with thespider."Robert Bruce," said Mrs. Stace, "was,perhaps, the most famous king that everreigned in Scotland,-but he had a hardstruggle at first with difficulties and mis-fortunes. He had false friends and powerfulfoes; enemies wasted his land, and he foundhimself a fugitive in a dreary cave in theIsle of Arran. Bruce felt, like you, myNeddy, inclined to give up a hopelessstruggle. Why should he fight any morefor his country ? six times he had made an

10 TRY AGAIN.effort to free her from England's hatedpower, and six times had found such effort,vain.""I think that he might well give uptrying, mamma."" While Bruce," continued the lady,"was turning over these sad thoughts inhis mind, it is said that his eye chanced torest on a spider attempting to fix her threadon some part of the rocky wall. The insecthad a difficult task to perform; she triedagain and again without success, but wouldnot give up in despair. Bruce counted thatthe little spider had six times attempted tofix her thread-just as many times as he hadvainly tried to give freedom to his dearland.""And just as many times as I have beendays trying to fix my good resolutions andconquer my naughty temper," said Neddy."Bruce, as the story goes, thought tohimself, 'I will watch whether the spiderwill try a seventh time; and if she does tryand succeed, I'll once more draw this swordfor Scotland, and try if success may not bemine at last.'"

TRY AGAIN. 11" 0 mamma, did the patient little spidermake another attempt ?"" She did, it is said, and succeeded; andRobert Bruce felt his own hope and resolu-tion return. He went back to the scene ofconflict, he vanquished his foes, he won hiscrown, and had reason to the end of hisdays to be thankful that he, a warrior andking, had not scorned to take a lesson froma spider !""I think," said little Neddy, looking upwith a smile on his sickly face, "that youwant me to take a lesson both from a spiderand a king.""You have your difficulties to overcome,my boy, as they both had theirs, though ofsuch a very different kind; you need thepatience they needed, you must make re-peated efforts as they made, and never giveup in despair. But oh, my son," continuedthe lady, drawing her boy closer to heiheart, "you must never forget that bothpatience and success are gifts of God, andmust be asked for in prayer. Hitherto youhave made resolutions in your own strength,and, alas! they have broken like threads,

12 TRY AGAIN.Now and henceforth seek strength from theLord; it is He, and He alone, who can makeus more than conquerors in the life-longbattle with sin."Neddy did not forget, when kneeling thatnight by his little cot, to confess his follyand passion, and to ask for help to fight infuture against them. The following daywas Sunday, and Neddy awoke with goodresolutions, which again he strengthened byprayer. All through that Sunday the littleboy kept a constant watch over his lips, anda guard against his temper; and when hiscousin spoke rude and teasing words, walkedaway to the window, and would not trusthimself to reply.A happy boy was Neddy when, on thatSunday, evening his father called him to him,and placed the prize in his hand; and hismother whispered to him the holy wordswhich had been the text of the clergyman'ssermon, " Let us not be weary in well-doing,for in due season we shall reap if we faintnot."

II.LOWLY AND WISE."But you shan't!"The loud angry words werefollowed by the sound of astruggle, which brought Mrs.Clare out of her room in haste, to see whatwas the cause of the strife between her littleson Maitland, and his cousin Frederick Gray.The two boys had both hold of the staffof a flag, and were pulling and tugging atit, each trying hard'to wrench it out of thehand of the other. Both their faces werered with passion, and they hardly stoppedtheir struggling even when the lady enteredthe room.

14 LOWLY AND WISE." Boys, what are you quarrelling about? "cried Mrs. Clare, with displeased surprise." Mamina, we're going to play at soldiers,and I want to carry the flag," answeredMaitland, scarcely able to speak frompassion."I must have it-I shall have it !" criedFred, still trying to wrench it from hiscousin."Give it to me," said the lady in adecided tone, taking it from the grasp ofboth of the boys. " See, you have torn thepretty flag in your struggle To which ofyou does itbelong ?""Uncle gave it to us both," replied Fred;"but I choose to carry it, because I am theelder."" I must have it, because my father is asoldier, and I am going to be a soldiermyself!" cried Maitland, still looking veryfierce."I am sorry, boys, to see that you haveless sense than four-footed beasts.""What do you mean, mamma ?" saidMaitland."Your quarrel reminds me of a story of

LOWLY AND WISE. 15two goats which I have heard," replied thelady, seating herself on a chair, still holdingthe flag in her hand. " On a wild mountainin the Tyrol, two goats met on a ledgejust over a precipice,-a ledge which was sonarrow that there was neither room forthem to pass each other, nor to turn roundand go back. A steep rock rose straightabove them, a deep dark chasm lay below !What do you think that the two goatsdid ? "" I suppose," said Maitland, " that if theyhad horns, like my two little goats, theypushed, and butted, and fought, till one orboth of them were tossed over the precipiceand killed!""You suppose that they were as proud,and silly, and quarrelsome, as two littleboys whom I need not name," said Mrs.Clare, shaking her head. " No; the goatswere more lowly and more wise. One ofthem quietly and carefully laid himselfdown on the narrow ledge; then bentfirst one leg under his body, then the other,pressing as close to the rock as he could.Then the second goat gently and softly

16 LOWLY AND WISE.stepped over his companion, till, safe on thefurther side, he could lightly bound away.i _THE TWO GOATS.The goat that had lain down then drewhimself up from his lowly position, safe anduninjured, free to spring again from rock torock, and crop the sweet herbage, instead oflying, as he might otherwise have done, atthe bottom of the precipice, with all hisbones broken by a fall."(344)

LOWLY AND WISE. 17"What a wise goat he was! " exclaimedFred."I did not know that goats had suchsense," cried Maitland. "I wonder if mytwo little Billys that I drive in my go-cartwould have done just the same as thosecreatures."" If so," observed Mrs. Clare with a smile,"they would have shown much more sensethan their master."" I don't see that one is bound alwaysto give up one's rights!" cried Maitland,glancing at the flag, for he saw that hismother was thinking of his conduct infighting for that."The right of way belonged to one goatjust as much as to the other," remarked thelady; "but the wisest was the lowliest;with him to stoop was to conquer; by lettinganother be first he saved the livqs of both.O my child, if instinct taught this to apoor four-footed beast, shall beings withreason fight and quarrel, and above all "--the mother gently laid her hand on thehead of her child as she added, "shallChristians dispute about trifles, when they(344) 2

18 LOWLY AND WISE.know where it is written, Blessed are themeek, and with the lowly is wisdom ?"Maitland looked doubtfully at his mother,pride was having a little struggle within;but Fred cried out frankly at once, "Lethim have the flag! I'm sorry that Iquarrelled about it.""No, no, you shall have it!" exclaimedMaitland, more moved by his cousin'skindness than by even the lesson of hismother."You shall both carry it by turns, myboys," said the lady, "when I have mendedthe rent which you tore. Let this littleincident impress on you the truth that weoften gain most by yielding; and that he isthe wisest and noblest who can stoop, forthe sake of conscience, to take the lowliestplace."S'2 'll ~ i

III.A GOOD BOOK DESERVES A GOODBINDING." H, how tired I am of being so oftentold to hold up my head, and keepmy hair smooth and my dress neat!"exclaimed Flora. "I am sure,mamma, that you would not wishme to be like that little girl who called herelast week: she was as neat and nice as ifshe had come out of a bandbox, and I neversaw any one hold herself so straight, or walkso well; but what nonsense I heard her talk,what silly, unkind things she said. Youwould rather have me a good child, mamma,than like that foolish little girl ? ""I should be very sorry for you to copy

20 A GOOD BOOK DESERVES A GOOD BINDING.her, or any one else, in what is wrong, butglad for you to resemble her in what isworthy of praise."Flora looked as if she did not understand."Pray fetch me the two books which lieon that table," continued the mother." 0 mamma," cried Flora, as she obeyed,"how different the two books look! Theone so beautifully bound, and as fresh as ifit had never been opened; the other withbroken back, and half of the leaves fallingout.""Which of them do you like best, myFlora ?"Flora was going eagerly to cry out, " Theone in gold and purple," but she was wiseenough to stop short and say, " I cannot tell,dear mamma, as I have not read either."Mrs. Mason smiled at the answer. "Itis well that you are so cautious, my child.The purple book contains a silly Frenchnovel; it was given to me long ago, and Ifound it to be not worth the reading. Ithas lain in my drawer for years, and I haveonly taken it out now in order to burn theworthless contents, and make a blotting-book

A GOOD BOOK DESERVES A GOOD BINDING. 21of the cover. The other volume," and shetook up the tattered book as she spoke, "isthe 'Pilgrim's Progress,' one of the bestworks that ever was written."i I .Again Mrs. Mason smiled, and as shegently stroked down theAD FLORA." 0 mamma!" exclaimed Flora, "does notso good a book deserve a good cover ?"Again Mrs. Mason smiled, and as shegently stroked down the rough locks of her

22 A GOOD BOOK DESERVES A GOOD BINDING.little girl, she replied, "I am sending it tobe bound, to have its torn leaves made firm,and its rough edges smooth. And what Iwish to do for my little daughter is some-thing like what I do for my book. I wouldhave neither of them so untidy and ungainly,that few would care to find out whetherthey were better than their looks. Themost important part of a book, as we allknow, is its contents; the most importantpart of each human being is the heart. Butneat appearance and gentle manners are byno means to be neglected; as the late LadyTeignmouth used to observe, A good bookdeserves a good binding."" (.f+.

Ie_, : . " ,-k4IV.THE LITTLE WANDERER," 0 not tease that poor creature,"said a gentleman to an idle boywho was throwing pebbles at aS watch-dog chained in a yard,laughing as he made him bark,and growl, and strain at his chain. "It isunjust to torment him, for the dog harmsno one; it is cruel, for it gives needlesspain; it is cowardly, for were he not chainedyou would not dare to provoke him.""He's but a dog," muttered the boy."Ever since I owed my life to a dog,"said the gentleman, " I never could bear tosee one ill-treated.""How could you owe your life to a

24 THE LITTLE WANDERER.dog?" asked the boy, with a little str-prise." When I was a boy," said the gentleman," I did not always live in England, but spentsome months with my parents on the lowerpart of a mountain of the Alps, which isnamed St. Bernard. We lived in a prettywooden cottage, there called a chalet, with aroof very steep and sloping, to let the snowfall off it, and heavy stones at the corners toprevent the winds blowing it away.""What a strange place to live in," saidthe boy."Higher up on the mountain was a greatstone building,-called the Monastery of St.Bernard, where a number of monks used tolive. I had heard that these monks werekind to travellers passing along that wild,cold, dreary mountain, and that they keptdogs to help them in finding poor peoplelost in the snow; but I had-at the timethat I am speaking of--never been so highas the monastery, for, being but a child, Ihad not had the strength to go so far."" Had you a happy life there?" askedthe boy.

THE LITTLE WANDERER. 25_- ----- -- -;-: --_---: :_.___. .-NONASTERY OF ST. BERNARD."It was a wild, free, pleasant life. Iloved to climb as high as I could, and pluckthe pretty pink and purple flowers that grew"on the soft green moss, and look at theglorious mountains around, when the glow ofsunset reddened their peaks of snow. But"I was not contented with this. I heard ofbold travellers climbing to the tops of moun-

26 THE LITTLE WANDERER.tains; and without stopping to think that itwould be folly in a child to attempt what astrong man might do, I resolved to steal offsome day when my parents were absent from,home, and try to reach some very highpeak, and look down at the world throughthe clouds.""Why must you wait till your parentswere absent ? " asked the boy." Because they had strictly forbidden meever to go beyond sight of the chAlet. Mysinful disobedience, as you shall hear, nearlycost me my life.""My parents set off one afternoon tovisit a friend. I knew that they would notreturn till night, and as the servant whomthey left behind always let me be much bymyself, I thought that this was a favourabletime for me to carry out my plan. I tookmy father's big stick to help me in climbing,and as soon as my parents had set off in onedirection, I hurried away in the other. Iwas so eager, that I fancy that I must havegone on for hours before I thought aboutbeing tired. Up and up I went, but thehigher the spot I reached, the higher the

THE LITTLE WANDERER. 27mountain seemed to grow. At last, quiteweary and faint, and panting with the toilof climbing, I sat down and looked aroundme. The view was, no doubt, very fine,but the place looked to me very dreary andwild; there was not a sound to be heard,not even the tinkle of a sheep-bell. I beganto feel lonely, frightened, and hungry, andthought that I had better go back. Then abig flake of snow came floating down throughthe air, and fell on my dress. A great manymore soon followed. I shook them off againand again, but they came on faster and faster,and covered the ground all around, and hidthe path and the track of my feet. Then Iwas frightened indeed; for how should Ifind my way back. The evening was closingin, the air grew fearfully cold, and I knewthat should I remain there all night, Ishould be frozen to death before morning.""You must have been sorry that you hadnot obeyed your parents," said the boy."The most terrible thought to me then,as I shivered and trembled with cold and.fear, was the thought that all this troublehad come upon me because of my disobedi-

28 THE LITTLE WANDERER.ence. I knew that I had displeased God,and I feared the punishment which he mightsend. Stiff and tired as I was, I mademany an attempt to find my way down themountain; but I had completely lost thetrack, and did not know so much as whetherto turn to the right or the left. I calledout, but no one replied. All now wasgrowing dark around me, except the whiteglimmering snow. The heavy flakes stillwere falling, I sank ankle-deep at each stepthat I took. At last, quite exhausted, Isank down on the snow, and cried bittertears, which almost froze on my cheeks. Isobbed out a prayer to God; I begged Himto forgive my sin, and for my poor parents'sake not let me die on the mountains; mymind seemed to grow quite confused, Icould no more pray or think, I either sleptor fainted.""What a dreadful night of it you had !"cried the boy." The first thing which I remember whenI awoke, was the feeling of warm breath onmy cheek, and then it was touched by whatseemed the muzzle of some animal. I

THE LITTLE WANDERER. 29started and screamed with terror. 1 neednot have been afraid, a true friend wasbeside me. One of the monks' brave dogs,large and strong, had found its way throughthe snow, guided doubtless by its power of1^ _k__ .. ._ ,,SAVED !scent, or rather by a kind Providence, tothe spot where lay a poor half-frozen child.""That was a mercy indeed "" I soon found," continued the gentleman,

30 THE LITTLE WANDERER."that I had nothing to fear from the dog.He licked me, breathed on me, rubbed mewith his rough hairy coat, tried to rouse meto motion, and showed me a little cask ofdrink which the monks had tied round hisneck. When I had managed with my stifftrembling fingers to open that cask, and haddrunk of its warming contents, I felt the lifecoming back to my limbs. I could not,indeed, yet walk, but I dragged myself onto the dog's shaggy back, and gave myselfup to his guidance. The noble creature,with his heavy burden, bravely struggledthrough the snow, nor rested till he hadcarried me to the monastery door. There Iwas sheltered, fed, and warmed, and placedin a comfortable bed. Never shall I forgetmy joy when I again heard the sound of ahuman voice, and saw the bright glow of afire.""What a famous dog!" exclaimed theboy." I heard afterwards that that dog, whosename was Barry, had been the means ofsaving no fewer than forty lives! When hisuseful career was ended, his body was care-

THE LITTLE WANDERER. 31fully buried, and his skin, stuffed to looklike life, was placed in the Museum of Berne.Honour to the memory of that noble crea-ture, whose course of active usefulness andkindness puts to shame that of too many ofthe more gifted race of man. Rememberhis history, my lad, and for the sake of braveold Barry never ill-treat a dog."/',' aw '4-3" " ri "

---- -'-*, -' " -" --. -- --.. ^ -_""" "V.JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY."M going to give Matilda a pre-sent,--such a splendid present!"cried Vincent, who was gaily chat-Sting to his mother, while, with pen-4 cil in hand, she was trying to takehis likeness. "I have just been given twohalf-crowns; and I will buy her a littleorange-tree, with flowers and fruit upon it;she has long been wishing to have one.Won't that be generous, mamma? ""I thought, my boy," said the lady, asshe glanced up from her drawing, "thatyou owed old Martin a china jug, as youbroke that which you borrowed last week.""Oh, I don't care for spending my

JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY. 33money in that way," cried Vincent; " I liketo do what is handsome and generous: there'snothing so stupid as paying old debts."" Is not justice as much a virtue as gener-osity, Vincent ?""It is not so much to my mind. If aboy has a generous spirit, and gives awayhis cash freely, he need not be so veryparticular about remembering every trifle.""A character is very faulty, Vincent,where one quality-even a good one-isindulged at the expense of the rest. In awell-ordered mind each virtue has its place,and performs its part; we can make noexcuse for the absence of one because wethink that we possess another."Vincent thought the conversation verytiresome, since, instead of being praised forgenerosity, he was blamed for want ofjustice. He jumped up from his seat, andAsked to be allowed to look for a minute atthe likeness which his mother was taking.".0 mamma, you've drawn that right eyesplendidly !" he cried; "it looks just like areal one Now you must put in the other.S Vhat. a capital likeness you will make!"4 3

34 JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY.and Vincent looked with some pleasure andpride at the beautiful outline of his face,with the long ringlets hanging around it,which his mother had traced on the paper."Now I will draw the left eye," said thelady."Stop, stop!" cried the astonished Vin-cent. "Dear mamma, that never will do!You have made one eye as large as my own,and the other no bigger than a pea."THE SKETCH."The right eye looks well enough," ob-served the lady; "and the shape of thehead is correct."

JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY. 35"But the face will be frightful, quitefrightful, mamma, if the eyes do not matcheach other at all. You will spoil the wholepicture at once. No one who looks at itwill think of anything but that wretchedlittle dot of an eye. Please-please don'tgo on with that drawing, or make my twoeyes alike !"Mrs. Vane smiled as she laid down herpencil, took up her india-rubber, and effacedthe ill-shapen eye. "What offends you inmy sketch," she observed, "is just whatoffends me in your character, Vincent.Justice and generosity are as its two eyes;however fine the one may be, it gives noreal beauty if counterbalanced by a greatdefect in the other. There should be aneven balance of opposite virtues; firmnessand gentleness, courage and meekness,generosity and justice helping while con-trolling each other, each keeping its ownproper place. A character in which oneset of good qualities is fostered to theneglect of others as precious, is like a face"orookmd and deformed, however fine somefeatures may be."

"I' -f^ '*:L -, X,- ,J ., ,VI.THE CROW AND THE PITCHER.CROW, that was very thirsty, flewto a pitcher, hoping to find somewater in it. Water there was,but so little of it, that with allher efforts the poor crow couldnot so much as wet the tip of herbill. "Never despair," said the crow to her-self; "where there's a will there's a way! "A clever thought came into her little blackhead; she could not get down to the water,but she might make the water rise up toher. The crow picked up a pebble, anddropped it into the pitcher; another, andthen another. All sank to the bottom atonce, and the water rose in the jar. Before

THE CROW AND THE PITCHER. 37the crow had dropped in ten pebbles, herindustry was rewarded, and she drank atrT<Cp--- _- _~-'? "'~ts-^ t^ *tJ -?"WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY."her ease of the water, which, but for herclever thought, she would never have beenable to reach.WEIGHING AN ELEPHANT."MMAMMA," said Teddy Smith, "are wei

38 THE CROW AND THE PITCHER.taught any lesson by the fable of the 'Crowand the Pitcher " ?'"Certainly not," cried Lily, his merrylittle sister; "for we don't drink water outof pitchers, but out of glasses, or nice chinamugs. We can never be puzzled like thecrow; and if we drop in anything, it is alump of sugar, not a pebble ""But we may be puzzled about otherthings, Lily," observed her mother with asmile. "The fable is to teach us that alittle thought may show us a way out ofdifficulties which, without it, we could notget through."" Will you give us an example ?" askedTeddy."An Eastern king," said his mother," had been saved from some great danger,and, to show his gratitude for deliverance,he vowed to give to the poor the weight ofhis favourite elephant in silver.""Oh, what a great, great quantity thatwould be!" cried Lily, opening her merryeyes very wide. "A huge creature likean elephant would weigh fifty times morethan all our forks, and spoons, and shil-

THE CROW AND THE PITCHER. 39lings, and half-crowns put in a heap to-gether ?"" But how could you weigh an elephant ?"asked Teddy, who was a quiet, reflectingboy."There was the difficulty," said Mrs.Smith. " Perhaps the king began to thinkthat he had promised too much, and wantedto avoid giving at all; for he declared thatunless a way could be found of weighing hisheavy beast with little trouble and no ex-pense, not a single piece of silver would hethink himself bound to bestow.""That was shabby !" cried Lily." Or the king had a fancy to try whetherhis people had brains," observed Teddy."The wise and learned men of the courtput their heads together, and stroked theirlong beards, and talked the matter over, butnone found out how to weigh the elephantof the king.""Why, they would have needed scaleswith a pole as tall as a poplar, and saucersas big as this room! " cried Lily."At last," continued the lady, "a poorold sailor, wise like the crow in the fable,

40 THE CROW AND THE PITCHER.found safe and simple means by which toweigh the enormous beast. The thousandsand thousands of pieces of silver werecounted out to the people; and crowds ofpoor were relieved by the clever thought ofthe sailor."" 0 mamma," cried Lily, " do tell us whatit was !"" Stop, stop " interrupted Teddy, " I wantto think for myself-think hard-and findout how an elephant's exact weight could beknown, with little trouble, and no expense.""Ah," cried Lily, with a merry littlelaugh; "you want to be as clever as thecrow !""I am well pleased," said their mother,"that my Teddy should set his mind towork on the subject. If he can find out thesailor's secret before night, he shall havethat peach for his pains."Would any little reader like to shut thebook now, and try to make out the puzzlelike Teddy ?The boy thought hard, and thought long.Lily laughed at her brother's grave looks,as he sat leaning his head on his hand.

THE CROW AND THE PITCHER. 41Often she teased him with the question," Can you weigh an elephant, Teddy ? "At last, as he was eating his supper,Teddy, who had been very silent, suddenlystruck his fist on the table, and cried, "Ithink that I have it now !"" Do you mean that you have found outan easy fashion of weighing an elephant ? "asked his mother." I think that I have," said the boy."How \vould you do it ?" cried Lily."First, I'd have one of the king's bigboats brought very close to the shore, andhave planks laid across, so that the elephantcould walk right into the boat.""Oh, such a great, heavy beast wouldmake it sink low in the water " cried Lily." Of course it would," said her brother."Then I would mark on the outside of theboat the exact height to which the waterhad risen all around it, while the elephantwas inside. That done, back my big beastshould march to the shore, leaving the boatquite empty, and floating light as a cork."" But I don't see the use of all this," saidLily.L

42 THE CROW AND THE PITCHER."Do you not? " cried her brother, in sur-prise. "Why, I should only then have tobring the heaps of silver, and throw theminto the boat, till their weight should sinkit exactly to the mark made when theelephant was in it. That would show thatthe weights of each were the same."" How funny and clever !" cried Lily;"you would make a weighing-machine ofthe boat ? "" That is my plan," answered Teddy."That was the sailor's plan," said hismother. "You have earned the peach, myboy; " and she gave it to him with a smile."And you have shown," laughed Lily,"that in a difficulty you could manage aswell as the crow in the fable !"

-=<I A, <VII.PRESENT AND FUTURE." '.HY, Phoebe, what are you doing? "said a mother to her little daughter." "You are stripping the blossomsfrom your cherry-tree to make aMay-garland for the hall! ""There are no flowers so pretty, mother.Ella has violets and primroses, wild anemoneand cuckoo-flowers, but no one has suchlovely blossoms, or can show such a garlandas mine."" But remember, my child," said the mother,"that we cannot look for fruit in the summer,if we pluck our blossoms in spring.""Summer is far off," cried Phoebe: "Iwill weave my May-garland now."

44 PRESENT AND FUTURE.But when the bright summer came, andmellow fruit loaded the orchard trees, andPhoebe's little companions gathered clustersof sweet ripe cherries, sadly the poor child_ -. ..,: ', s -i-^.;.- -': ^ *, c. -THE BARE BOUGHS.gazed on her own bare boughs, where notone round berry appeared. Where was hergarland then ? Alas, it had withered in a

PRESENT AND FUTURE. 45day! She had had her pleasure,-it waspast, and only regret was left behind.If we live but for the pleasures and amuse-ments of the present, we shall one day find,to our grief, that we cannot look for fruit inthe summer if we pluck our blossoms inspring.; -A Nf.--*.1 > rt -.r 1

. 'I" ,L ....- ', " '.- ,, ,-- .--VIII.WINTER SONGS.' j., HAPPY New Year to you, MissDora, and many of them !" were,;4- the words with which Dora Sin-'' clair was awakened, on the 1st of' January, from sweet slumber andk pleasant dreams."0 Janet!-I hope-I hope that themorning is fine !" exclaimed the eager littlegirl almost before she had time to open hereyes. "Shall we be able to go to MountBlane ? Oh, don't shake your head and sayno ? It is not raining, I'm sure that it isnot, or I'd hear the pattering against thepane !""No, miss, the snow makes no noise! It

WINTER SONGS. 47is coming down thick and soft, as if theclouds were all made of feathers; and it liesquite deep on the ground; it must havebeen falling all night."Dora would not believe the bad news, tillshe herself had thrown open the shuttersand looked out on the lawn and drive, allclothed in a robe of spotless white."Horrid snow !" cried Dora impatiently."But perhaps," she added, "it will stop,and we shall go to Mount Blane after all."" Put that from your thoughts, my dear.The road through the valley wouldn't be fitfor travelling after such a fall. Your papawould never think of driving that distancethrough the snow. Besides, Miss Mary'scold is worse,-she has been coughing halfthe night; she could not venture out now,even if the snow were to stop.""We could go without her " cried Dora."No; your mamma said last night thatall would depend on your sister's losing hercold; and now the snow has come on, sothere is not a chance of your going."Dora knew only too well that what thenurse said was true, but she did not choose

48 WINTER SONGS.to believe it. All the time that she wasgetting ready for breakfast she spoke ofnothing but the certainty that the snow-storm would soon be over, running everyfive minutes to the window to see if theflakes still fell. Dora went on hoping untila message came from her father which settledthe question at once. The trip must be putoff, he said, till the days were longer andthe weather more mild. Dora was sobitterly disappointed that she burst into apassion of tears." It is always so " cried the angry littlegirl; "whenever one hopes for a pleasure,the weather is sure to spoil it! Tiresomesnow! tiresome cough tiresome day!What a wretched beginning is this to theyear that I thought would be so happy "And so, with tears in her eyes, discontentin her heart, and murmuring words on herlips, the ungrateful girl sat down to theplentiful meal provided for her comfort!Dora never thought of the love which yearafter year had spread her table, and filledher cup, and richly supplied all her need.A single disappointment was enough to

WINTER SONGS. 49make her forget a thousand blessings whichshe never had earned, never deserved, butwhich her heavenly Father had showeredon her from her birth !"Eh, Miss Dora, I wonder you are notashamed !" cried the nurse. Just hearthat robin redbreast singing outside in thecold! Poor bird, the winter must comehard upon him! His breakfast lies underthe snow! He has no basin of nice hotmilk, no blazing fire to warm him; yet hesits on the bare leafless bough, and warblesas if it were spring You might learn alesson of content from the brave little birdin the snow "Dora dried her eyes and ran to thewindow; she knew the note of her favouriterobin. She threw open the casement, andin another minute her little friend with thescarlet breast was hopping on to her finger !"Come in, pretty birdie! " she cried;"come in and share my breakfast! I lovethe nightingale and the linnet, that singwhen the hedges are green, and the meadowsgay, and the sun shining bright and warm;but I love better the little robin that hops(344) 4

50 WINTER SONGS.- y- 2 -": ,-, ."OM I, P 1rFrY BIRDIEabout on the frosty ground, and sings on theleafless tree !"

WINTER SONGS. 51The flakes were falling no longer; thered wintry sun had come out, and hung likea ball of fire in the sky."Dora, my child," said her mother, "puton your warm cloak and your bonnet. Youmay carry this shawl and basket of goodthings as a New-Year's gift from me to poorblind Bessy at the lodge."Dora willingly obeyed. Impatient andselfish as she had appeared in the morn-ing, there was kindness in the little girl'sheart,-it was a pleasure to her to givepleasure. Cheerfully Dora tramped throughthe snow, leaving deep footprints behindher. She could now admire the softwhite covering which spread over the earth,and lay on the dark green leaves of thelaurel and holly, and made the roofs ofthe dwellings look purer and brighter thanmarble !As Dora approached the lodge, trippingnoiselessly over the snow, she heard thesound of singing within, ringing sweetthrough the frosty air. So clear was thevoice of the blind girl that Dora caughtmost of the words :-

52 WINTER SONGS.BLIND GIRL'S SONG.I cannot scethe sunny gleamWhich gladdens every eye but mine;But I can fed the warming beam,And bless the God who made it shine.O Lord! each murmuring thought control,Let no repining tear-drop fall;Pour heavenly light upon my soul,And let me see thy love in all.I cannot see the roses bloom,All sparkling with the summer showers;iBut I can breathe their sweet perfume,And bless the God who made the flowers.O Lord each mnurmuring thought control,Let no repining tear-drop fall;Pour heavenly light upon my soul,That I may see thy love in all.I cannot see the pages whereThy holy will is written, Lord;But I can seek thy house of prayer,And humbly listen to thy word,Which lifts my hopes to that blest placeWhere I at thy dear feet shall fall,Behold my Saviour face to face,And see and know his love in all."Oh," thought Dora, who had paused atthe door listening to the soft sweet strain,"how could I, blessed as I am with sight,and health, and every comfort, begin thenew year with murmurs and tears, while apoor blind girl in her humble home can singsuch a song as this ? "

WINTER SONGS. 53Dora tapped at the door, and entered.Betsy knew the sound of her step, andturned her face towards her with a smile ofwelcome."A happy New Year to you, Betsy!"cried Dora. "My mother has sent you asoft warm shawl, and some nice little thingsfrom our table."It was a pleasure to see the bright lookon the face of the sightless girl, and to hearher half-whispered words,-" How goodGod has been to me "Dora shared the delight which she gavewhen she wrapped the warm shawl roundthe shoulders of Betsy, and, one by one,drew her treasures from the basket, andplaced on the blind girl's knees, oranges,apples, plum-cake, and a nice little packet oftea. Dora was perhaps as happy at thatmoment as she would have been in thechaise, had the day been warm, the roadclear of snow, and she herself on the way toMount Blane.With the blessing of the poor upon her,Dora quitted the little lodge, and trippedaway back to her home. She thought now

54 WINTER SONGS.of her own little sister, and reproached her-self for unkindness to one who was sharingher disappointment, with a feverish coldbesides." I must try and make Mary happy, shutup as she is like a little prisoner in thehouse. She shall see my pictures, and playwith my toys, and we'll have a merry NewYear's Day together notwithstanding thefrost and the snow."The redbreast had sung on the tree hischeerful song of content; the blind girl hadsung in her darkness her song of meek sub-mission; and now from the lips of Dorathere rose a sweet song of praise!O dear children, who in happy homesnow begin another year, with kind facessmiling around you, loving voices breathinggood wishes, let your thanks for unnumberedblessings now arise to your Father inheaven! Should disappointments come toyou, as they come in turn to us all, let nomurmur escape your lips. Remember thepoor blind girl in her cottage, and the robinthat sang in the snow

S " " "' "IX.THE KING AND HIS MEN..-,^,ING FREDERICK of Prussia-.- took great pleasure in forming aS regiment of the tallest and finestn en that he could collect. A, ^\ splendid body of troops theyappeared, and the king was extremely proudof them.One day, it is said, Frederick took withhim the ambassadors from England, Austria,and France, to review this distinguishedregiment." Do you think," said the monarch to theAustrian, " that your master, the Emperor,has in his army any men of whom an equalnumber could cope with this corps? "

56 THE KING AND HIS MEN." I frankly own that I do not think thathis Majesty has," replied the courteousambassador." What say you ? " said the king to theFrenchman, repeating his former question tohim. The minister bowed to the monarch,and returned much the same answer as theAustrian had done.The pleased king then turned to theEnglish ambassador. " I know, my LordHyndford," said he, "that your sovereignhas many brave men in his army; but doyou think that an equal number of themwould be able to conquer my regiment ? "" I cannot be so bold as to say that," re-plied the Englishman; " but I will answerfor it that half the number would try."Try Yes; that little word workswonders-let each of my readers prove thepower of it. The dull child sits with histask-book in his hand, glancing at the pagewhich contains his lesson, without taking inthe meaning of the words before him-wish-ing that the hour for study were over-surethat he shall never master his task. Ah!these tiresome columns are his regiment of

THE KING AND HIS MEN. 57TIE DULL CHILD.tall Prussians--can he not conquer them ?Let him try!The child often reproved for his faults,angry at once with himself and with others,begins to despair of amending. He haswished to subdue his temper, but it isviolent still; to overcome his laziness-itstill gains upon him: he is discouraged andsad, what can he do now? Can he neversucceed in his efforts to please ? Let himtry again-yes, again and again; his faultsare the regiment of Prussians before him,

58 THE KING AND HIS MEN.not invincible, however hard to be van-quished. If the young Christian soldier,with steady resolution, attempt to subduethem, armed with faith and prayer, he maynot only try, but succeed!Y', I77' ----

"And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, andchoked it."---LUKE Viii. 7."SHOULD like to be rich, very"rich!" cried Louisa; "I shouldlike to be as rich as the Queen !""Perhaps riches would neithermake you better nor happier,"quietly observed her uncle, who was busyat his employment as a watchmaker besideher."But they would, uncle; I am quitecertain that they would.""You forget the words that we read lastnight from the Bible, TI,:j that will be richfall into a snare.'"

60 I WISH I WERE RICH." I cannot see how that should be.""The pleasures and cares of this life, andthe deceitfulness of riches, are apt to drawour hearts from God. In the parable, theyare described as the thorns which spring upand choke the good seed. We are too muchinclined to forget the Giver while enjoyinghis gifts: this is not the case with all, butit is the case with many."" I would never forget the Lord, becausehe loaded me with comforts," replied Louisa."The more I received, the more grateful Iwould feel. How much good I would do;how many I would make happy! I wouldbuild a church one year, and a school-houseanother; and-why-there-can it be ?-yes-there is mother herself coming alongthe lane! Oh, I never thought that shewould be back from London till Monday "and, with a cry of delight, the little girlsprang to the door, to meet and to welcomeher mother.The fond parent had hurried back fromLondon, whither she had been obliged to goupon business. There had been much forher to see-much to enjoy. Friends had

I WISH I WERE RICH. 61urged her to stay; she was weary and neededrest; but the thought of her darling whomshe had left at home drew her, like amagnet, back to Berkshire. She had neverbefore been separated from Louisa, and herdear child had scarcely ever been absentfrom her thoughts. All that the tendermother saw that was wonderful or beautiful,was stored up in her memory to amuse herdaughter. In the gay shops, nothing hadtempted the kind parent so much as whatshe thought might give pleasure to herchild. And now she felt the dear armsclasped round her neck, she could press herlittle one close to her heart;-it was enoughfor her to see her darling-and she thoughtof nothing else till Louisa eagerly cried,"And what have you brought me fromLondon, dear mother ? "When the large travelling-bag was pro-duced and opened, a number of books, apacket of clothes, and a few other thingswere hastily pulled out by Louisa, impatientto find something more interesting to her-self. It must have been a weary businessto have carried that great bag from the

62 I WISH I WERE RICH,Z 'THE MOTHER'S RETURN.station, three miles distant! Louisa's searchwas soon successful. With repeated excla-mations of delight she drew forth a littleDutch doll, with its gay gilt ear-rings; alemon, enclosing a nest of others, box with-in box; a book full of pictures; and twoshining fish, with a magnet to attract themwhen floating in water.

I WISH I WERE RICH. 63"Oh! how beautiful-how charming !"cried Louisa, turning from one thing toanother, while her weary mother stoodpatiently looking on. "Another lemon Ithink these funny little boxes never willend;-and oh, I must fetch water for myfish to swim in. Look, uncle, look! theywill turn any way; just see-I am sure thatit will please you."" I do see something, Louisa, that doesnot please me. I see a mother knocked upwith a long journey and the heat;-no onehas even helped her off with her cloak-noone has set her chair in its place. A cup oftea would refresh her-no kettle is on thefire: her child has scarcely a word or a lookto give her "" 0 mamma, mamma!" said Louisa,colouring at the reproof, "I was wrong,very wrong; but the truth is, that I was somuch taken up-so much engaged with-"" The gifts,, that the giver was forgotten!"interrupted her uncle gravely. "This isthe case with but too many in this world-children of a larger growth, playing withgrander toys. We should know ourselves

64 I WISH I WERE RICH.well before we dare to affirm that therewould be no danger to hearts such as oursin the pleasures of this world and the deceit-fidness of riches."i \& -^nVt.

,t = :-- "i;~ .- -" ; ,'I-*XI.STORY OF A DOG.--HOW CHARLIE FOUND A DOG." ET you gone, you howling cur!" criedthe porter of a workhouse, as hekicked from the great door a poordog that had vainly tried to creepthrough. The creature looked verythin and wretched, and yelped with painas it limped away.Little Charlie Rolle, who was passing thatway with his mother, grew red with angerwhen he saw the cruel act, and heard therough words. "How could you treat thedog so ? " cried the boy." He has been prowling about here these(344) 5

66 STORY OF A DOG.three days, and yelping all night," said theporter." Perhaps he has lost some friend who hasentered the house," suggested Mrs. Rolle."Ay, that's it," replied the porter; "hebelonged to an old blind woman who hascome in, and don't want a dog any more.We've enough of mouths to feed withoutkeeping curs," he muttered, as he shut thelarge heavy door."Poor faithful dog !" cried Charlie; "sohe has been trying for three days and nightsto get to his old mistress, and has bravedcuffs and kicks for her sake. And he maynever be with her more. See-here he comesagain. 0 mamma, how thin he is; howhis bones seem ready to break through theskin! I do believe that he has not eatenanything all day; poor fellow, poor fellow "At the voice of kindness the wretched doglooked up and wagged his tail." Mamma, our house is not far off,-mayI run on before you and ask our cook for abone ?"" Indeed you may, Charlie," said the lady,who had a heart as kiras his own. and who-/

STORY OF A DOG. 67felt pity for the helpless creature that hadlost his only friend.Charlie ran so fast that he arrived quitebreathless at the door of his home, and herang so loudly that he brought up the servantin a hurry. "A bone," he cried out; "abone for a poor starving dog " and he couldhardly bear to wait till Mary fetched it.Then he darted off with it in haste, meetinghis mother half-way.They both returned to the spot where thehungry dog still lingered, with his eyes fixedon the closed door which shut him out fromhis friend."Here, poor fellow, here!" shouted Charlie,throwing the bone to the dog. The famishedcreature sprang at it, and began eating it aseagerly as if he had not tasted food for aweek. Charlie stood looking on, and feel-ing more pleasure than he would have donehad he been himself enjoying a feast.HOW THE DOG FOUND A HOME."Mamma, I am so glad, so very glad that

68 STORY OF A DOG.we met that poor dog," said Charlie, as hewalked towards home with his mother. " Itis so pleasant to feed the hungry. Look,look, he is following behind us. Poor doggie,he knows his friends."The dog indeed followed the lady and herson to the gate of their lawn, and then rightup to the door of their house. He did notattempt to go in, but lay down on the door-step, wagging his tail, and looking at Charlie,as the boy entered the house, with eyes thatseemed to thank him.Charlie could hardly speak or think ofanything for the rest of the day but thehalf-starved faithful dog.The next morning he burst into hismother's room with, "0 mamma, the dogis still at our door! I do believe that hehas been waiting there all night through.May we not take him in ? may we not keephim in our yard ? Since poor old Rollo diedthe kennel has been quite empty. If I mightonly have this faithful dog, I would treat himso kindly, and feed him so well; and what ajolly life he would lead.""We might try what sort of a watch-

STORY OF A DOG. 69dog he would make," said his motherkindly."Oh, do-do !" cried Charlie, catchinghold of her hand; "he will be kicked, andbeaten, and starved, if left to wander aboutall alone.""He is a Newfoundland dog," observedMrs. Rolle."And I daresay that he will turn out afine handsome fellow when he is properlyfed and cared for. Only," added the boymore gravely, as another thought crossedhis mind, "have we quite a right to keephim ?-you know that he is not our dog."" I am glad, my boy, that you rememberto be honest as well as kind," said Mrs. Rolle,with a smile; "but there will be little diffi-culty, I think, in this case. I will go myselfto the workhouse, see the poor blind woman,and tell her about her dog. No doubt shewill be but too glad to know that he is insafe hands."Mrs. Rolle was as good as her word. Herkind visit sent a gleam of joy into the heartof poor blind Bessy. When the old pauperheard of her dog, tears came into her sightless

70 STORY OF A DOG.eyes, and her voice trembled a little as shesaid, " Oh, keep him, kind lady, and welcome.I'm thankful poor Frisk has found suchfriends. He'll be faithful to you, I'm sure,as he has been faithful to me. 'Twas a soretrouble to part with him-he was my onlycomfort on earth. But he'll be better offwith you than he ever was with poor Bessy;and I could not have him in here.""When you have leave to walk out for alittle, you may come to our house," said thelady, "and have a warm cup of tea, and letyour faithful dog have a sight of his dear oldmistress again."The thin, wrinkled face of Bessy grewquite bright at the thought; and never dida week pass from that time without her find-ing her way to Mrs. Rolle's house, and re-ceiving a loud barking welcome from herrough-coated friend.HOW FRISK SURPRISED HIS MASTER.Mrs. Rolle's house was but a very shortdistance from a large county-town; but it

STORY OF A DOG. 71had a nice lawn in front, with grass as smoothas velvet. Charlie and his sister Lucy wereplaying there one day, and Frisk was sport-ing beside them."Lucy," cried Charlie, " I have not paidyou back the penny which you lent me togive blind Bessie on Friday. Here it is;will you catch it if I throw it ?""No; don't throw it, Charlie," said Lucy,who, seated on the grass, was making a chainof daisies. " Put it into that basket besideyou, and see if Frisk will be clever enoughto bring it to me.""Here, Frisk, take it," cried Charlie,throwing the penny into the basket. Frisklooked up eagerly, wagged his tail, and liftedthe basket, as if he had been accustomed'tocarry one all his life. But great was thesurprise of Charlie, when, instead of takingthe penny to Lucy, the dog turned roundand trotted off, through the open gate, downthe road, right towards the town, never look-ing behind him." Ho! holloa! stop thief!" shouted Charlie,jumping up from the grass." 0 Charlie, where can he be going ?"

72 STORY OF A DOG."-.FRISK.cried Lucy, looking in wonder after thedog."I'll be off and see !" exclaimed Charlie,running after Frisk as fast as his legs wouldcarry him, without stopping to put on hiscap, which he had thrown down on the lawn.Frisk, as proud of his basket and penny asa soldier might be of his ribbon and medal,trotted on at a famous pace, until he reacheda baker's shop, while Charlie ran laughing

STORY OF A DOG. 73and panting behind him. A good-naturedlooking woman was standing beside thecounter."Why, if this is not poor old Frisk hereagain!" she cried, in a tone of pleasure;"and he has brought his basket and pennyas he used to do months ago. But, dear,how fat he has grown!" She came forward,stooped, and patted the dog, who rubbed hisnose against her gown, and seemed as gladto see her as she was to see him again. Thewoman then took the penny out of the basket,and put in two stale rolls instead; Frisk, herfour-legged customer, looking on as if heunderstood all about it." Why," cried Charlie, bursting into laugh-ter, "if Frisk is not buying two stale rollswith my penny !""I did not know, little master, that thepenny was yours," said the woman, smiling;"I never ask Frisk how he comes by hismoney. He has been accustomed to trothere and buy bread for a poor blind woman,and he is as honest and steady as any cus-tomer can be."" Oh, you clever old fellow " cried Charlie,

74 STORY OF A DOG.patting Frisk's shaggy coat, for he was muchdelighted with the dog. "But remember,the next time that you go shopping for me,that I like fresh buns with plums better thanstale rolls without them; and don't suppose,old friend, that I'll forget to give you yourshare."HOW FRISK DID A KIND DEED." 0 Charlie, Charlie!" cried little Lucy,as on one cold wintry morning she came run-ing in haste from the gate through which shehad been watching carriages pass; "two cruel,wicked boys have just done such a dreadfulthing,-they have flung a poor kitten intothe pond!""Can't we save it ?" cried kind-heartedCharlie; and in a minute he had darted tothe gate, and through it, and had reached theedge of the pond that was at the opposite sideof the road.There, indeed, was a poor kitten, vainlystruggling in the cold half-frozen water, muchtoo far from the edge for little Charlie toreach it.

STORY OF A DOG. 75"I'll run for the garden rake," cried theboy." Oh, you'll be too late " exclaimed Lucy,who had followed her brother, and who nowstood wringing her hands and ready to burstout crying. "See, the poor thing is sinking !"Lucy had no time to say more;-therewas a sudden splash in the pond, and thenFrisk's head was seen above it as he swam,as if he were swimming for his life, towardsthe place where the poor kitten was sinkingin the choking waters."That's it; well done, Frisk; go it, olddog," shouted Charlie, in great excitement."Hurrah! he has reached her-he has savedher !" Charlie clapped his hands for joy;while Lucy, too anxious to cry out, eagerlywatched the motions of the dog.Frisk had indeed got firm hold of thedrowning kitten; and now, turning round,he swam more slowly with his burden in hismouth, till he reached the edge of the pond.He then scrambled on shore, shook a showerof drops from his shaggy sides, and runningup to Lucy, laid the dripping, half-drownedlooking creature at her feet.

76 STORY OF A DOG." Oh, it is dead " cried the pitying child." I'm sure that it is not," said Charlie;"don't you see it is moving its tail ? Takeit home, and warm and dry it. O Frisk,my fine fellow, you were just in time. Youdeserve a medal, you do." And while Lucyran into the house with the kitten, Charlieremained for a few seconds to pat and topraise his faithful dog, which jumped aboutin high glee.Charlie was right, the kitten was not dead;it lived to be as merry a kitten as ever playedwith a ball, or ran round and round after itstail. The children called it Brisk, it was soquick and playful. I cannot say whether thekitten long remembered its ducking, or wasgrateful to its preserver ; but Frisk and Briskwere always fast friends; the dog nevergrowled at the cat, the cat never snarled atthe dog. Brisk became an excellent mouser,while Frisk was the faithful guard to thehouse, and many a merry frolic they had bothwith Charlie and Lucy.*

r. ^^^V ^ ;--'- r iXII.THE INDIAN CONVERT.T was on the evening of a hot, glow-ing day in India, when the airseemed breathed from the mouth ofa furnace, that the young soldier,Walter, walked forth alone to agrove not far from his barracks. His soulwas full of sadness, for he felt that evil com-panions, and the temptations of a soldier'slife, had been gradually drawing him awayfrom his God. Walter had not enough ofreligion to keep him from sinning, but hehad enough to keep him from feeling easyin sin.The stillness of the hour, the solitude ofthe grove, had a calming effect upon the

78 THE INDIAN CONVERT.mind of Walter. His thoughts went backto his mother's quiet grave beneath the yew-tree in the village churchyard in dear oldEngland. He remembered her last wordsto him as he stood by her bed, when herdim eye and ashen cheek showed that thehand of death was upon her: "We shallmeet again in heaven " Would the dyinghope of his parent be disappointed ?" Ah if she had but known all the trialsthat would come upon me, and how everyone around me would try to draw me intoevil, she would not 'have felt so sure of thatmeeting," was the painful reflection of Walter."What a quiet place this is! there's no-thing stirring near me. One seems moreclose to God when there's nothing to remindone of man. I can't pray in the crowdedbarracks-I'm afraid of the jests and jeers;but here, with only the green branches andthe blue sky above me-here I might pray,as I once used to pray at the knee of mymother " And, yielding to a holy impulse,the young soldier lad knelt down, and re-peated the simple prayer which he hadlearned when a little child.

THE INDIAN CONVERT. 79" 0 God wash away my sins in the bloodof Thy dear Son, and give me a new, cleanheart, filled with Thy Holy Spirit, for thesake of the Lord Jesus Christ! ""Ah, Roostum has found him Roostumhas found him!" exclaimed a voice in theHindu language, which sounded so close toWalter, that, startled and confused, he sprangagain to his feet.A poor native, who had been stretched inthe shade for sleep or rest, and who had lainso still that Walter had not been aware of hispresence, now came forward with his handspressed together, after the manner of theHindus when they approach a superior withrespect. His dark but handsome featureswere brightened by an expression of joy, ashe repeated, " Roostum has found him !"" What have you found ?" inquired Walter,who had learned the language of India." Roostum has found a second white manwho prays," replied the native. " The firstshowed me the pearl of great price, and thendeparted I know not whither; and I havelong sought in vain for another who wouldteach me how to keep the great pearl."

80 THE INDIAN CONVERT."What pearl? " inquired Walter withcuriosity, glancing at Roostum, whose dress,though faded and worn, showed him to haveonce belonged to an upper class of Hindus."The sahib (master) knows, the sahib pos-sesses that pearl, or he would not have kneltdown and prayed in the name of the LordJesus Christ."" I do not understand you," said Walter.Roostum fixed his large dark eyes on theyoung soldier with a look of surprise, thenreplied : "Does not the sahib know the wordsof the Lord ? The kingdom of heaven is likeunto a merchantman seeking goodly pearls;who, when he found one pearl of great price,went and sold all that he had and bought it.Surely salvation is the goodly pearl; andblessed is he to whom it is granted!"" Have you found it ? " asked Walter withinterest."The white teacher showed me where tofind it," replied the native with emotion;"and since I have found it, I have locked itclose in my heart. It is worth to me- allthat I have lost; for oh !" he added, tearsrising into his eyes, "great to me was the

THE INDIAN CONVERT. 81cost of that pearl-Roostum had indeed topart with all ere he could buy it."4 .THE INDIAN CONVERT." Sit down beside me," said Walter kindly,"and tell me what made you a Christian, andwhat you have had to give up for the sakeof your new religion."The Hindu obeyed, seating himself on theground, at the feet of the English soldier.(344) 6

82 THE INDIAN CONVERT."Roostum," he began, "had wealth inabundance, -elephants, jewels, and gold.Roostum had a home and friends, brethrenwho honoured, a mother who loved him,and a wife yet more dear than a mother.Now, if his brother meet him, that brotherwill turn away; his tender mother hasbecome a stranger to the voice of her son;his wife counts her husband as if he werealready in his grave !" I was even as my fathers," pursued theHindu, after a little pause, " and thought bypilgrimages, fastings, and alms, to please myidol gods, and gain a title to future joys. Iheard that there would be great merit inmaking a pilgrimage to the distant shrine ofan idol. Thither I resolved to travel, and,to make the merit greater, I vowed to makethe journey on foot, though difficult and dan-gerous was the path to it over the mountains.I need not tell of the sufferings of that pil-grimage; hundreds have died in attemptingto make it, and perished miserably by theway. Before I could reach the shrine I fellsick, and fell exhausted on the mountainpath. Of all the pilgrims going the same

THE INDIAN CONVERT. 83way, not one stopped to pity or to help me 1Hunger and thirst were preying upon me;my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth ; Ilonged in agony for a draught of water, butthere was no one to give it unto me !" As I was sinking into a death-like trance,I was roused by a voice near me; and thena cup of delicious cold drink was offered to,my burning lips! I drank it as if it werelife, and opened my eyes and looked up, andsaw a Feringhee Padre (English clergyman)bending over the poor Hindu with looks ofpity and love !" From that Feringhee-may God's bless-ing be on him !-I received medicine for mysickness and food for my need; yea, and whatwas more precious still, the medicine of truth'for a sin-sick soul, and food for a hungeringspirit! I heard the missionary preach to acrowd of pilgrims who gathered around him:he told us that Jesus Christ had come to savesinners, even the worst, that the gates ofheaven might be thrown- open wide to allwho come to him by faith. Oh, thought I,this is what I need-One who can save tothe uttermost--One who can do for me what

84 THE INDIAN CONVERT.I have vainly tried to do for myself. I havetrembled before my idols, I have tried toplease them by offerings and penance ; but Inever till now heard of a God who would bemy Saviour and Friend."The missionary soon went on his way,and I never beheld him again; I shall seehim and thank him one day when we meetin the courts of heaven. I did not finish mypilgrimage-I cared not to visit the shrine.What I needed was some Christian teacherwho could speak to me good words from God;and when I saw you praying on your knees,I thought that I had found what I sought."Walter was ashamed, when he rememberedhow unfit and unworthy he was to lead othersin a path from which he had wandered him-self. " Did you return to your home ?" heinquired of the earnest Hindu convert.The question brought a deep shade of sad-ness over the face of poor Roostum. Hedrooped his head on his breast, and a heavysigh burst from his lips. "I returned," hefaltered, "but I found no home; there wasno home for the Christian. My wife,--myyoung, gentle wife,-wept and prayed me to

THE INDIAN CONVERT. 85give up a faith that must divide us for ever.Her tears had almost melted my resolve;but I lifted up my heart in prayer, and theSaviour strengthened my soul in the hour oftemptation. I was turned away from myown door; it was hard to bear, hard to bear!But you, 0 Christian, must know the bitter-ness of trials like these; to you also theword has been given : He that taketh not hiscross and followeth after Me is not worthy ofMe; blessed are they that are persecuted forrighteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdomof heaven.""God have mercy on me, an unworthysinner," thought Walter, " and give me graceto serve Him in future with the love of thispoor Hindu. I will do what I can for thisfaithful convert; it is little to what he hasdone for me; for he has shown me that theChristian must be ready not only to servehis God, but, if needful, to suffer for Him too.""Walter supplied the wants of poor Roos-tum, giving to him all the little money whichhe had about him, and which, but for theirmeeting, would but too probably have beenspent on tobacco or spirits. Very gratefully*

86 THE INDIAN CONVERT.was his kindness received, Roostum repeat-ing the promise of the Lord: " Whosoevershall give you a cup of water to drink in Myname, because ye belong to Christ, verily I sayunto you, he shall not lose his reward."And so they parted, the soldier and theconvert going their several ways, but eachbound for the same blessed land. Walterreturned to his barracks, strengthened tofight the good fight. He resisted the temp-tations which surrounded him, maintained agood character in his regiment, and lived toreturn to his own dear country with a medaland clasps, and a pension. He found howtrue is God's holy word: " Godliness is pro-fitable unto all things, having the promise ofthe life that now is, and of that which is tocome."Roostum had a shorter trial, and soon en-tered into rest. Many friends were raisedup to the Hindu, who had left all to followhis Lord. But it was not long that heneeded the kindness of earthly friends, forbefore two years had passed he was calledto inherit the crown which the Lord hathprepared for them that love Him. But to

THE INDIAN CONVERT. 87Roostum, before he died, was given the greatjoy of seeing his young and loved wife cometo the knowledge of the Saviour, and of em-bracing in his arms a little dark son, whomhe could call by a Christian name.Dear young reader have you found " thePearl of great price," and is it indeed yourown ? Like Roostum, the Hindu convert,do you think the love of the Saviour moreprecious than all the world besides, and doesit make you, like Walter, ready to fight inHis cause against sin and sef ? You are notcalled to leave a happy home, or to give upall you hold dear; but your faith must beshown in obedience, your religion in a holylife. The naughty deed, the unholy thought,the evil amusement, the sinful gain, these,these must be given up, however painful thesacrifice be. What have you ever partedwith for Christ ? To what proof of love canyou point as a sign that you are truly Hisown ? Born in a Christian land, broughtup to know and to love the Bible, oh, haveyour faith, your zeal, your love, been likethose of the Hindu convert?

, I -' -, 4\4 1"N,. :.-. :- p -_ .-I --- -IXIII.TRUSTED AND TRUSTY; OR,THE SHIP ON FIRE."" \'\ER the side with ye, boy, quick;"'-ji4rj, one minute's delay may cost yourlife!" exclaimed Mr. Gray to aSfellow-passenger, a lad of aboutFourteen, who appeared to hesitateabout swinging himself down by a rope intoa boat which rocked in the waves below theburning ship. The flames were raginground mast and yard, the sails caught fire,blazed and shrivelled, thick volumes ofblack smoke hung like a funeral pall overthe vessel, and the awful red glare was re-flected on the sea, which glowed like a fieryfurnace. It was no time for delay indeed,

TRUSTED AND TRUSTY. 89and yet Reginald drew back from thevessel's side. " I had forgotten it," he ex-"claimed, and darted back towards the cabin..7--_" ------ '- -:THE SHIP ON 'FIRE." Madness-he is lost!" muttered Mr.Gray; "no money was worth such a risk.That young life is thrown away."Sailors and passengers with eager haste

90 TRUSTED AND TRUSTY; OR,lowered themselves into the boats, but therewas not room for all. Some, under thedirections of the captain, whose brave spiritrose with the danger, hastily lashed sparstogether to form a rude raft for the rest.Mr. Gray laboured among these, gaspingand almost fainting as he was from the heat,which had become well-nigh intolerable.Often he glanced anxiously towards thehatchway, with a faint hope of seeing youngReginald emerge again from the burningcabin into which he had so daringly ventured.The raft, the last hope of the crew, isfloating on the crimsoned billows, thecrowded boats have sheered off; Mr. Gray,half-blinded and suffocated by the heat andsmoke, springs down on the raft; he isfollowed by the captain and all who re-mained of the passengers and crew, exceptthe poor orphan-boy. They must push offin all speed from the vessel, lest some burn-ing spar fall on them and crush them. Justas they are about to do so-" Hold hold "cries Mr. Gray, starting up from his place,as a slight form, blackened with smoke, andwith dress singed and burned, appears on the

THE SHIP ON FIRE. 91deck; he springs over the bulwarks, missesthe raft, and the next moment is dragged outof the billows to lie gasping and exhausted,with his head on the knee of Mr. Gray."Thank God, my poor boy, you aresaved ""Thank God! " faintly echoed ReginaldClare.A strange appearance was presented bythe lad. His hair and eyebrows weresinged, marks of burning were on his faceand his hands, his dress hung in tattersaround him, but he held in his grasp a flatparcel wrapped up in oil-cloth, and a faintsmile rose to his lips as he murmured, "I'mso glad that I have it all safe !"That was no time for questioning. Itwas with the utmost difficulty that thoseupon the raft managed to push it far enoughaway from the blazing vessel to avoid de-struction. Their situation was one of ex-treme danger. A ship which had happilybeen sufficiently near to be attracted by thesight of the flames, and which had pickedup those who had escaped in the boats, hadpassed on without an attempt to save the suf-

92 TRUSTED AND TRUSTY ; OR,ferers floating on the raft. It was not till thevessel had burnt down to the water's edge,and the flames had sunk at last from havingnothing further on which to vent their fury,. --ON THE RAFT.that the captain dared to raise a boat-sailwhich he had had the foresight to carrywith him. By means of this he succeeded,after long hours of painful anxiety, in reach-

THE SHIP ON FIRE. 93Sing, soon after sunrise, the coast of Cornwall,from which the homeward-bound vessel hadbeen not many miles distant when theterrible fire had occurred.When the worst of the peril was over,and the raft, under a favouring breeze, wasfloating towards the land, Mr. Gray, whofelt a strong interest in Reginald Clare,asked the poor lad some questions regardinghis family and position. He knew alreadythat the boy was the orphan of a missionarywho had died at Sierra Leone; he nowfound that young Reginald was returning toEngland, to be dependent upon an unclewhom he had never seen." I am glad that you have succeeded insaving something," observed Mr. Gray, whohad himself preserved a box containing hisprincipal treasures; " doubtless that parcel,for which you risked your life, containssomething of very great value."" I do not know what it contains, sir,"was Reginald's reply, as he languidlyraised himself on his arm to gaze on thecoast towards which they were approach-ing.

94 TRUSTED AND TRUSTY; OR," Not know what it contains " exclaimedMr. Gray."It is not mine," said the boy in ex-planation; "it is a parcel intrusted to mycare."" By some friend whom you are mostanxious to serve ? ""No, sir; by one who is almost a stranger;but I promised to deliver it safely to hismother," said Reginald Clare."And you really rushed back into theburning cabin to carry off what was not ofthe slightest value to you, and, perhaps, oflittle to any one else ?"The pale cheek of the boy flushed, as if hewere almost hurt at the question, and hemade the simple reply, " I had been trusted--I had promised-what else could I havedone ?"The party safely landed in England. Asthe fire had left poor Reginald penniless,Mr. Gray liberally paid for his journey toLondon. Reginald arrived that evening athis uncle's home, where he was received atfirst with amazement at his burned andragged state, till surprise was changed to

THE SHIP ON FIRE. 95pity, on the cause of his strange appearancebeing known.It soon became clear to the boy that hisuncle, Mr. Brown, and his wife, were notin easy circumstances, and that they werelikely to feel his maintenance a very un-welcome burden. The thin, sharp-featuredlady, in her gown turned and dyed, lookedgravely at the tattered clothes, which mustat once be replaced by new ones." Did you save nothing from the fire ?"inquired Mrs. Brown, as on the followingmorning she poured out at the breakfastsome very pale tea."Nothing but a parcel which I had incharge for a Mrs. Bates of Eccleston Square-here it is," and Reginald laid on thetable the flat parcel wrapped in oil-cloth."Could you kindly tell me how to send it?"There was no difficulty in sending theparcel, as Mrs. Bates happened to live near;but Reginald could see that his aunt wasprovoked at this being the only thing whichhe had rescued out of the flames. Her impa-tience broke out into open expression, when,as the old couple and the boy sat together

96 TRUSTED AND TRUSTY; OR,in the evening by the light of a single dimcandle, a note was brought in from Mrs.Bates, thanking Mr. Clare coldly for bring-ing the parcel of dried fern-leaves, but in-forming him that they had been sadlybroken and spoiled in the journey."Fern-leaves! trash!" exclaimed Mrs.Brown, dropping the stitches of her knittingin vexation. " If you had only had thesense to carry out your desk instead; therewas sure to be some money in it. If youhad only saved a good suit of clothes, andnot come here like a beggar "Mr. Brown leant back in his arm-chairand laughed. "Dried fern-leaves !" hechuckled, " and spoiled ones to boot!They've only been pulled out of one fire tobe chucked into another "Poor Reginald was much mortified andvexed. The burns on his face and handsseemed to pain him more than ever. "Andyet," thought he, " I need not mind, I onlydid my duty. I had been trusted, and Ihad promised; I could not have broken myword. How could I guess what was in theparcel ?"

THE SHIP ON FIRE. 97"Rat-tat! " It was the knock of theevening postman. Another letter for Regi-nald Clare." I hope," said his sharp-featured aunt." that it may contain something better thanthe last. Dried fern-leaves, forsooth Whatrubbish!"Reginald broke the seal, and opened theletter. His hand almost trembled with ex-citement as he read it. With a sparklingeye he gave it to his aunt, who looked at itthrough her old steel spectacles."Well, here's something odd," she re-marked. " Why, who writes this ? JohnGray-I never heard of the name."" He was my fellow-passenger-a mer-chant-and so kind ""Kind !-I should think so !" exclaimedMrs. Brown, her sharp features relaxinginto a smile."What does he say, wife ?" asked Mr.Brown with impatience."Why, he offers to take this boy hereinto his house of business without any pre-mium !" exclaimed the wife, handing overthe letter to her husband ; "because, as he;34W) 7

98 TRUSTED AND TRUSTY.writes, he knows the lad is to be trusted.It's the oddest fancy that ever I heard of.What is Reginald to him, that he shouldtake him by the hand-first pay for hisjourney to London, then offer-you see hisown word-offer to treat him as a son !""Wife, wife !" cried Mr. Brown, layinghis finger on the letter, and looking withhearty kindness at the orphan as he spoke,"you and I made a precious mistake whenwe fancied that Reginald had carried no-thing away from the ship but a trumperypacket of fern-leaves! He carried awaysomething worth more than all the gold andjewels of the Indies,-a character for trust-worthiness and truth-a character for doinghis duty to God and man; and depend on't,"continued the old man, raising his voice, " aboy who has that will never long be in wantof a friend."S-43/ '': F w-^*

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs