Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: Try again
 Chapter II: Lowly and wise
 Chapter III: A good book deserves...
 Chapter IV: The little wandere...
 Chapter V: Justice and generos...
 Chapter VI: The crow and the...
 Chapter VII: Present and futur...
 Chapter VIII: Winter songs
 Chapter IX: The king and his...
 Chapter X: I wish I were rich
 Chapter XI: Story of a dog
 Chapter XII: The Indian conver...
 Chapter XIII: Trusted and trusty;...
 Chapter XIV: The Caliph
 Chapter XV: The little sower
 Chapter XVI: John Kitto
 Back Cover

Title: Try again, and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028327/00001
 Material Information
Title: Try again, and other stories
Physical Description: 120 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Paterson, Robert, fl. 1860-1899 ( Engraver )
Small, William, 1843-1929 ( Illustrator )
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1876
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1876   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1876
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 and frontispiece printed in colors; and some illustrations engraved by Dalziel and R. Paterson after W. Small.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00028327
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 - 002238913
notis - ALH9437
oclc - 61164852

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Table of Contents
        Page 6
    Chapter I: Try again
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Chapter II: Lowly and wise
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    Chapter III: A good book deserves a good binding
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    Chapter IV: The little wanderer
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Chapter V: Justice and generosity
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Chapter VI: The crow and the pitcher
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Chapter VII: Present and future
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    Chapter VIII: Winter songs
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    Chapter IX: The king and his men
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    Chapter X: I wish I were rich
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Chapter XI: Story of a dog
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Chapter XII: The Indian convert
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    Chapter XIII: Trusted and trusty; or, the ship on fire
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    Chapter XIV: The Caliph
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
    Chapter XV: The little sower
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
    Chapter XVI: John Kitto
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library


jALib Dther .Stories.



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R~l-xB,.,r k


A G-A I N,



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I. TRY AGAIN, ... ... ... ... .. .. 7

II. LOWLY AND WISE, ... .. ... ... ... 13


IV. THE LITTLE WANDERER, ... .. ... ... 23

V. JUSTICE AND GENEROSITY, ... ... ... ... 32

VI. THE CROW AND THE PITCHER, ... ... ... ... 36

VII. PRESENT AND FUTURE, ... ... ... ... 43

VIII. WINTER SONGS, ... ... .. .. ... 46

IX. THE KING AND HIS MEN, ... ... ... 55

X. I WISH I WERE RICH, ... .. .. ... 59

XI. STORY OF A DOG, .. ... ...... 65

XII. THE INDIAN CONVERT, ... ... .. 77


XIV. THE CALIPH, ... ... ... .. ... 99

XV. THE LITTLE SOWER, ... .. ... .. ... 103

XVI. JOHN KITTO, .. ... ... ... ... 116

-:/. __ .-,-; ... -. -- -
."--- = -: ",. '.---; 0 ---



" T'S no use trying, I'll give it all up !"
exclaimed Neddy with a burst of
sorrow, as he looked down on the
torn kite which he had trampled on
when in a passion, because he could
not release himself from the long tail which
had become entangled round his leg. Here
I've been trying every day, all this week
long, from Monday to Saturday, to keep my
temper for one whole day, to gain the book
which papa offered to me as a prize, and
every day I've broken all my good resolu-
tions and gone into a pet about one thing
or other I'll give up trying altogether !"
And would that be a wise thing for my


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 the
tangled string from the leg of the boy;
"and as for the poor torn kite, we'll see
what a little paste and paper will do to
mend that big hole."
"They can't mend my horrible temper !"
cried Neddy, who was sadly disheartened at
his failure.
Now, perhaps my readers will wonder at
the mother dealing so gently with such a
passionate child, instead of punishing or
reproving. But Mrs. Stace knew that poor
Neddy had an excuse for his temper that
most little children have not, for it was a
sad and painful illness that had helped to
make him so fretful. Besides, she knew
that Neddy grieved over his temper, and
was very anxious indeed to become more
patient and good; so, instead of being
angry with him, she sought to give him
encouragement and help in his struggle
with the sin which beset him.


I'll give up trying to be patient," sighed
Neddy. "I'm sure that I'll never be a
good-tempered boy."
"Did you ever hear the story of the
brave King Robert Bruce and the spider ? "
asked Mrs. Stace, opening a book which
contained a beautiful print of a warrior
stretched on the ground in a cave, watching
a spider making its web.
Neddy was very fond of pictures, and still
more fond of stories, so that the change in
the conversation made him forget his trouble
for awhile, and he asked his mother to tell
him what that man had to do with the
"IRobert Bruce," said Mrs. Stace, "was,
perhaps, the most famous king that ever
reigned in Scotland,-but he had a hard
struggle at first with difficulties and mis-
fortunes. He had false friends and powerful
foes; enemies wasted his land, and he found
himself a fugitive in a dreary cave in the
Isle of Arran. Bruce felt, like you, my
Neddy, inclined to give up a hopeless
struggle. Why should he fight any more
for his country ? six times he had made an


effort to free her from England's hated
power, and six times had found such effort
"I think that he might well give up
trying, mamma."
"While Bruce," continued the lady,
"was turning over these sad thoughts in
his mind, it is said that his eye chanced to
rest on a spider attempting to fix her thread
on some part of the rocky wall. The insect
had a difficult task to perform; she tried
again and again without success, but would
not give up in despair. Bruce counted that
the little spider had six times attempted to
fix her thread-just as many times as he had
vainly tried to give freedom to his dear
"And just as many times as I have been
days trying to fix my good resolutions and
conquer my naughty temper," said Neddy.
"Bruce, as the story goes, thought to
himself, I will watch whether the spider
will try a seventh time; and if she does try
and succeed, I'll once more draw this sword
for Scotland, and try if success may not be
mine at last.'"


0 mamma, did the patient little spider
make another attempt? "
"She did, it is said, and succeeded; and
Robert Bruce felt his own hope and resolu-
tion return. He went back to the scene of
conflict, he vanquished his foes, he won his
crown, and had reason to the end of his
days to be thankful that he, a warrior and
king, had not scorned to take a lesson from
a spider !"
"I think," said little Neddy, looking up
with a smile on his sickly face, "that you
want me to take a lesson both from a spider
and a king."
"You have your difficulties to overcome,
my boy, as they both had theirs, though of
such a very different kind; you need the
patience they needed, you must make re-
peated efforts as they made, and never give
up in despair. But oh, my son," continued
the lady, drawing hei boy closer to hei
heart, "you must never forget that both
patience and success are gifts of God, and
must be asked for in prayer. Hitherto you
have made resolutions in your own strength,
and, alas they have broken like threads.


Now and henceforth seek strength from the
Lord; it is He, and He alone, who can make
us more than conquerors in the life-long
battle with sin."
Neddy did not forget, when kneeling that
night by his little cot, to confess his folly
and passion, and to ask for help to fight
in future against them. The following day
was Sunday, and Neddy awoke with good
resolutions, which again he strengthened by
prayer. All through that Sunday the little
boy kept a constant watch over his lips, and
a guard against his temper; and when his
cousin spoke rude and teasing words, walked
away to the window, and would not trust
himself to reply.
A happy boy was Neddy when, on that
Sunday evening, his father called him to him,
and placed the prize in his hand; and his
mother whispered to him the holy words
which had been the text of the clergyman's
sermon, "Let us not be weary in well-doing,
for in due season we shall reap if we faint


The loud angry words were
followed by the sound of a
struggle, which brought Mrs.
Clare out of her room in haste, to see what
was the cause of the strife between her little
son Maitland, and his cousin Frederick Gray.
The two boys had both hold of the staff
of a flag, and were pulling and tugging at
it, each trying hard to wrench it out of the
hand of the other. Both their faces were
red with passion, and they hardly stopped
their struggling even when the lady entered
the room.


Boys, what are you quarrelling about ?"
cried Mrs. Clare, with displeased surprise.
Mamma, we're going to play at soldiers,
and I want to carry the flag," answered
Maitland, scarcely able to speak from
"I must have it-I shall have it! cried
Fred, still trying to wrench it from his
"Give it to me," said the lady in a
decided tone, taking it from, the grasp of
both of the boys. See, you have torn the
pretty flag in your struggle To which of
you does it belong ?"
Uncle gave it to us both," replied Fred;
"but I choose to carry it, because I am the
I must have it, because my father is a
soldier, and I am going to be a soldier
myself!" cried Maitland, still looking very
"I am sorry, boys, to see that you have
less sense than four-footed beasts."
"What do you mean, mamma ?" said
"Your quarrel reminds me of a story of


two goats which I have heard," replied the
lady, seating herself on a chair, still holding
the flag in her hand. On a wild mountain
in the Tyrol, two goats met on a ledge
just over a precipice,-a ledge which was so
narrow that there was neither room for
them to pass each other, nor to turn round
and go back. A steep rock rose straight
above them, a deep dark chasm lay below !
What do you think that the two goats
did ?"
I suppose," said Maitland, that if they
had horns, like my two little goats, they
pushed, and butted, and fought, till one or
both of them were tossed over the precipice
and killed! "
"You suppose that they were as proud,
and silly, and quarrelsome, as two little
boys whom I need not name," said Mrs.
Clare, shaking her head. "No; the goats
were more lowly and more wise. One of
them quietly and carefully laid himself
down on the narrow ledge; then bent
first one leg under his body, then the other,
pressing as close to the rock as he could.
Then the second goat gently and softly


stepped over his companion, till, safe on the
further side, he could lightly bound away.

... "
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.t 'V-'

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The goat that had lain down then drew
himself up from his lowly position, safe and
uninjured, free to spring again from rock to
rock, and crop the sweet herbage, instead of
lying, as he might otherwise have done, at
the bottom of the precipice, with all his
bones broken by a fall."


"What a wise goat he was !" exclaimed
"I did not know that goats had such
sense," cried Maitland. "I wonder if my
two little Billys that I drive in my go-cart
would have done just the same as those
If so," observed Mrs. Clare with a smile,
"they would have shown much more sense
than their master."
I don't see that one is bound always
to give up one's rights!" cried Maitland,
glancing at the flag, for he saw that his
mother was thinking of his conduct in
fighting for that.
The right of way belonged to one goat
just as much as to the other," remarked the
lady; "but the wisest was the lowliest;
with him to stoop was to conquer; by letting
another be first he saved the lives of both.
0 my child, if instinct taught this to a
poor four-footed beast, shall beings with
reason fight and quarrel, and above all "-
the mother gently laid her hand on the
head of her child as she added, "shall
Christians dispute about trifles, when they
(344) 2


know where it is written, Blessed are the
meek, 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, "Let
him have the flag! I'm sorry that I
quarrelled about it."
"No, no, you shall have it! exclaimed
Maitland, more moved by his cousin's
kindness than by even the lesson of his
"You shall both carry it by turns, my
boys," said the lady, "when I have mended
the rent which you tore. Let this little
incident impress on you the truth that we
often gain most by yielding; and that he is
the wisest and noblest who can stoop, for
the sake of conscience, to take the lowliest

i -' _** .- .


IH. how tired I am of being so often
told to hold up my head, and keep
"' my hair smooth and my dress neat!"
exclaimed Flora. "I am sure,
Smamma, that you would not wish
me to be like that little girl who called here
last week: she was as neat and nice as if
she had come out of a bandbox, and I never
saw any one hold herself so straight, or walk
so well; but what nonsense I heard her talk,
what silly, unkind things she said. You
would rather have me a good child, mamma,
than like that foolish little girl ?"
I should be very sorry for you to copy


her, or any one else, in what is wrong, but
glad for you to resemble her in what is
worthy of praise."
Flora looked as if she did not understand.
"Pray fetch me the two books which lie
on that table," continued the mother.
0 mamma," cried Flora, as she obeyed,
"how different the two books look! The
one so beautifully bound, and as fresh as if
it had never been opened; the other with
broken back, and half of the leaves falling
"Which of them do you like best, my
Flora ?"
Flora was going eagerly to cry out, The
one in gold and purple," but she was wise
enough to stop short and say, "I cannot tell,
dear mamma, as I have not read either."
Mrs. Mason smiled at the answer. "It
is well that you are so cautious, my child.
The purple book contains a silly French
novel; it was given to me long ago, and I
found it to be not worth the reading. It
has lain in my drawer for years, and I have
only taken it out now in order to burn the
worthless contents, and make a blotting-book


of the cover. The other volume," and she
took up the tattered book as she spoke, "is
the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' one of the best
works that ever was written."


0 mamma! exclaimed Flora, "does not
so good a book deserve a good cover ?"
Again Mrs. Mason smiled, and as she
gently stroked down the rough locks of her

I :
l lilf !- .11

little girl, she replied, "I am sending it to
be bound, to have its torn leaves made firm,
and its rough edges smooth. And what I
wish to do for my little daughter is some-
thing like what I do for my book. I would
have neither of them so untidy and ungainly,
that few would care to find out whether
they were better than their looks. The
most important part of a book, as we all
know, is its contents; the most important
part of each human being is the heart. But
neat appearance and gentle manners are by
no means to be neglected; as the late Lady
Teignmouth used to observe, A good book
deserves a good binding."

'' '* l

r i ', ', '. ",,, '' '. f *'


not tease that poor creature,"
said a gentleman to an idle boy
who was throwing pebbles at a
watch-dog chained in a yard,
laughing as he made him bark,
and growl, and strain at his chain. "It is
unjust to torment him, for the dog harms
no one; it is cruel, for it gives needless
pain; it is cowardly, for were he not chained
you 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 to
see one ill-treated."
How could you owe your life to a


dog?" asked the boy, with a little sur-
When I was a boy," said the gentleman,
"I did not always live in England, but spent
some months with my parents on the lower
part of a mountain of the Alps, which is
named St. Bernard. We lived in a pretty
wooden cottage, there called a chalet, with a
roof very steep and sloping, to let the snow
fall off it, and heavy stones at the corners to
prevent the winds blowing it away."
"What a strange place to live in," said
the boy.
"Higher up on the mountain was a great
stone building, called the Monastery of St.
Bernard, where a number of monks used to
live. I had heard that these monks were
kind to travellers passing along that wild,
cold, dreary mountain, and that they kept
dogs to help them in finding poor people
lost in the snow; but I had-at the time
that I am speaking of-never been so high
as the monastery, for, being but a child, I
had not had the strength to go so far."
"Had you a happy life there?" asked
the boy.



"It was a wild, free, pleasant life. I
loved to climb as high as I could, and pluck
the pretty pink and purple flowers that grew
on the soft green moss, and look at the
glorious mountains around, when the glow of
sunset reddened their peaks of snow. But
I was not contented with this. I heard of
bold travellers climbing to the tops of moun-

----- --: ~-~~-=;



tains; and without stopping to think that it
would be folly in a child to attempt what a
strong man might do, I resolved to steal off
some day when my parents were absent from
home, and try to reach some very high
peak, and look down at the world through
the clouds."
"Why must you wait till your parents
were absent? asked the boy.
Because they had strictly forbidden me
ever to go beyond sight of the chalet. My
sinful disobedience, as you shall hear, nearly
cost me my life."
"My parents set off one afternoon to
visit a friend. I knew that they would not
return till night, and as the servant whom
they left behind always let me be much by
myself, I thought that this was a favourable
time for me to carry out my plan. I took
my father's big stick to help me in climbing,
and as soon as my parents had set off in one
direction, I hurried away in the other. I
was so eager, that I fancy that I must have
gone on for hours before I thought about
being tired. Up and up I went, but the
higher the spot I reached, the higher the

mountain seemed to grow. At last, quite
weary and faint, and panting with the toil
of climbing, I sat down and looked around
me. The view was, no doubt, very fine,
but the place looked to me very dreary and
wild; there was not a sound to be heard,
not even the tinkle of a sheep-bell. I began
to feel lonely, frightened, and hungry, and
thought that I had better go back. Then a
big flake of snow came floating down through
the air, and fell on my dress. A great many
more soon followed. I shook them off again
and again, but they came on faster and faster,
and covered the ground all around, and hid
the path and the track of my feet. Then I
was frightened indeed; for how should I
find my way back. The evening was closing
in, the air grew fearfully cold, and I knew
that should I remain there all night, I
should be frozen to death before morning."
You must have been sorry that you had
not 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 trouble
had come upon me because of my disobedi-


ence. I knew that I had displeased God,
and I feared the punishment which he might
send. Stiff and tired as I was, I made
many an attempt to find my way down the
mountain; but I had completely lost the
track, and did not know so much as whether
to turn to the right or the left. I called
out, but no one replied. All now was
growing dark around me, except the white
glimmering snow. The heavy flakes still
were falling, I sank ankle-deep at each step
that I took. At last, quite exhausted, I
sank down on the snow, and cried bitter
tears, which almost froze on my cheeks. I
sobbed out a prayer to God; I begged Him
to forgive my sin, and for my poor parents'
sake not let me die on the mountains; my
mind seemed to grow quite confused, I
could no more pray or think, I either slept
or fainted."
"What a dreadful night of it you had !"
cried the boy.
"The first thing which I remember when
I awoke, was the feeling of warm breath on
my cheek, and then it was touched by what
seemed the muzzle of some animal. I


started and screamed with terror. 1 need
not have been afraid, a true friend was
beside me. One of the monks' brave dogs,
large and strong, had found its way through
the snow, guided doubtless by its power of

r -~


scent, or rather by a kind Providence, to
the spot where lay a poor half-frozen child."
"That was a mercy indeed "
I soon found," continued the gentleman,



"that I had nothing to fear from the dog.
He licked me, breathed on me, rubbed me
with his rough hairy coat, tried to rouse me
to motion, and showed me a little cask of
drink which the monks had tied round his
neck. When I had managed with my stiff
trembling fingers to open that cask, and had
drunk of its warming contents, I felt the life
coming back to my limbs. I could not,
indeed, yet walk, but I dragged myself on
to the dog's shaggy back, and gave myself
up to his guidance. The noble creature,
with his heavy burden, bravely struggled
through the snow, nor rested till he had
carried me to the monastery door. There I
was sheltered, fed, and warmed, and placed
in a comfortable bed. Never shall I forget
my joy when I again heard the sound of a
human voice, and saw the bright glow of a
"What a famous dog!" exclaimed the
I heard afterwards that that dog, whose
name was Barry, had been the means of
saving no fewer than forty'lives! When his
useful career was ended, his body was care-


fully buried, and his skin, stuffed to look
like life, was placed in the Museum of Berne.
Honour to the memory of that noble crea-
ture, whose course of active usefulness and
kindness puts to shame that of too many of
the more gifted race of man. Remember
his history, my lad, and for the sake of brave
old Barry never ill-treat a dog."

I *

a .Z

'- < .

-- .



1---- -
:-j:i AM going to give Matilda a pre-
Ssent,-such a splendid present!"
.* *. cried Vincent, who was gaily chat-
)- ting to his mother, while, with pen-
'4 cil in hand, she was trying to take
his likeness. "I have just been given two
half-crowns; and I will buy her a little
orange-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, as
she glanced up from her drawing, "that
you owed old Martin a china jug, as you
broke that which you borrowed last week."
"Oh, I don't care for spending my


money in that way," cried Vincent; I like
to do what is handsome and generous: there's
nothing 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 a
boy has a generous spirit, and gives away
his cash freely, he need not be so very
particular about remembering every trifle."
"A character is very faulty, Vincent,
where one qualify-even a good one-is
indulged at the expense of the rest. In a
well-ordered mind each virtue has its place,
and performs its part; we can make no
excuse for the absence of one because we
think that we possess another."
Vincent thought the conversation very
tiresome, since, instead of being praised for
generosity, he was blamed for want of
justice. He jumped up from his seat, and
asked to be allowed to look for a minute at
the likeness which his mother was taking.
"0 mamma, you've drawn that right eye
splendidly !" he cried; "it looks just like a
real one Now you must put in the other.
What a capital likeness you will make!"
(344) q


and Vincent looked with some pleasure and
pride 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 the
"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 right eye looks well enough," ob-
served the lady; "and the shape of the
head is correct."


"But the face will be frightful, quite
frightful, mamma, if the eyes do not match
each other at all. You will spoil the whole
picture at once. No one who looks at it
will think of anything but that wretched
little dot of an eye. Please-please don't
go on with that drawing, or make my two
eyes alike!"
Mrs. Vane smiled as she laid down her
pencil, took up her india-rubber, and effaced
the ill-shapen eye. "What offends you in
my sketch," she observed, "is just what
offends me in your character, Vincent.
Justice and generosity are as its two eyes;
however fine the one may be, it gives no
real beauty if counterbalanced by a great
defect in the other. There should be an
even balance of opposite virtues; firmness
and gentleness, courage and meekness,
generosity and justice helping while con-
trolling each other, each keeping its own
proper place. A character in which one
set of good qualities is fostered to the
neglect of others as precious, is like a face
crooked and deformed, however fine some
features may be."


CROW, that was very thirsty, flew
to a pitcher, hoping to find some
water in it. Water there was,
but so little of it, that with all
her efforts the poor crow could
not so much as wet the tip of her
bill. "Never despair," said the crow to her-
self; "where there's a will there's a way "
A clever thought came into her little black
head; she could not get down to the. water,
but she might make the water rise up to
her. The crow picked up a pebble, and
dropped it into the pitcher; another, and
then another. All sank to the bottom at
once, and the water rose in the jar. Before


the crow had dropped in ten pebbles, her
industry was rewarded, and she drank at


her ease of the water, which, but for her
clever thought, she would never have been
able to reach.


"MAMMA," said Teddy Smith, "are we

?s~c %I


taught any lesson by the fable of the 'Crow
and the Pitcher "?'
"Certainly not," cried Lily, his merry
little sister; "for we don't drink water out
of pitchers, but out of glasses, or nice china
mugs. We can never be puzzled like the
crow; and if we drop in anything, it is a
lump of sugar, not a pebble "
But we may be puzzled about other
things, Lily," observed her mother with a
smile. "The fable is to teach us that a
little thought may show us a way out of
difficulties which, without it, we could not
get through."
"Will you give us an example?" asked
"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 of
his favourite elephant in silver."
"Oh, what a great, great quantity that
would be!" cried Lily, opening her merry
eyes very wide. A huge creature like
an elephant would weigh fifty times more
than all our forks, and spoons, and shil-


lings, and half-crowns put in a heap to-
gether ? "
But how could you weigh an elephant? "
asked Teddy, who was a quiet, reflecting
"There was the difficulty," said Mrs.
Smith. "Perhaps the king began to think
that he had promised too much, and wanted
to avoid giving at all; for he declared that
unless a way could be found of weighing his
heavy beast with little trouble and no ex,
pense, not a single piece of silver would he
think himself bound to bestow."
"That was shabby !" cried Lily.
"Or the king had a fancy to try whether
his people had brains," observed Teddy.
"The wise and learned men of the court
put their heads together, and stroked their
long beards, and talked the matter over, but
none found out how to weigh the elephant
of the king."
"Why, they would have needed scales
with a pole as tall as a poplar, and saucers
as big as this room !" cried Lily.
"At last," continued the lady, "a poor
old sailor, wise like the crow in the fable,


found safe and simple means by which to
weigh the enormous beast. The thousands
and thousands of pieces of silver were
counted out to the people; and crowds of
poor were relieved by the clever thought of
the sailor."
0 mamma," cried Lily, do tell us what
it was!"
Stop, stop !" interrupted Teddy, I want
to think for myself-think hard-and find
out how an elephant's exact weight could be
known, with little trouble, and no expense."
"Ah," cried Lily, with a merry little
laugh; "you want to be as clever as the
crow !"
"I am well pleased," said their mother,
"that my Teddy should set his mind to
work on the subject. If he can find out the
sailor's secret before night, he shall have
that peach for his pains."
Would any little reader like to shut the
book now, and try to make out the puzzle
like 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.


Often 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, suddenly
struck his fist on the table, and cried, "I
think that I have it now "
"Do you mean that you have found out
an easy fashion of weighing an elephant ? "
asked his mother.
I think that I have," said the boy.
How would you do it ?" cried Lily.
"First, I'd have one of the king's big
boats brought very close to the shore, and
have planks laid across, so that the elephant
could walk right into the boat."
"Oh, such a great, heavy beast would
make it sink low in the water cried Lily.
Of course it would," said her brother.
"Then I would mark on the outside of the
boat the exact height to which the water
had risen all around it, while the elephant
was inside. That done, back my big beast
should march to the shore, leaving the boat
quite empty, and floating light as a cork."
". But I don't see the use of all this," said


* "Do you not? cried her brother, in sur-
prise. "Why, I should only then have to
bring the heaps of silver, and throw them
into the boat, till their weight should sink
it exactly to the mark made when the
elephant was in it. That would show that
the weights of each were the same."
How funny and clever!" cried Lily;
"you would make a weighing-machine of
the boat ? "
That is my plan," answered Teddy.
"That was the sailor's plan," said his
mother. "You have earned the peach, my
boy;" and she gave it to him with a smile.
"And you have shown," laughed Lily,
"that in a difficulty you could manage as
well as the crow in the fable !"


" ,4 HY, Phoebe, what are you doing ?"
!,said a mother to her little daughter.
"You are stripping the blossoms
from your cherry-tree to make a
May-garland for the hall! "
"There are no flowers so pretty, mother.
Ella has violets and primroses, wild anemone
and cuckoo-flowers, but no one has such
lovely blossoms, or can show such a garland
as 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: "I
will weave my May-garland now."


But when the bright summer came, and
mellow fruit loaded the orchard trees, and
Phoebe's little companions gathered clusters
of sweet ripe cherries, sadly the poor child

I 1-i

, I -.


gazed on her own bare boughs, where not
one round berry appeared. Where was her
garland then ? Alas, it had withered in a


day! She had had her pleasure,-it was
past, 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 in
the summer if we pluck our blossoms in

*" i

;i *a

1 ''Dora, and many of them 1were
.clair was awakened, on the st of
-January, from sweet slumber and


" [A HAPPY New Year to you, Miss
Dora, and many of them !" were
the words with which Dora Sin-
clair was awakened, on the 1st of
January, from sweet slumber and
pleasant dreams.
"0 Janet!-I hope-I hope that the
morning is fine !" exclaimed the eager little
girl almost before she had time to open her
eyes. "Shall we be able to go to Mount
Blane ? Oh, don't shake your head and say
no ? It is not raining, I'm sure that it is
not, or I'd hear the pattering against the
"No, miss, the snow makes no noise It


is coming down thick and soft, as if the
clouds were all made of feathers; and it lies
quite deep on the ground; it must have
been falling all night."
Dora would not believe the bad news, till
she herself had thrown open the shutters
and looked out on the lawn and drive, all
clothed 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 fit
for travelling after such a fall. Your papa
would never think of driving that distance
through the snow. Besides, Miss Mary's
cold is worse,-she has been coughing half
the 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 that
all would depend on your sister's losing her
cold; and now the snow has come on, so
there is not a chance of your going."
Dora knew only too well that what the
nurse said was true, but she did not choose


to believe it. All the time that she was
getting ready for breakfast she spoke of
nothing but the certainty that the snow-
storm would soon be over, running every
five minutes to the window to see if the
flakes still fell. Dora went on hoping until
a message came from her father which settled
the question at once. The trip must be put
off, he said, till the days were longer and
the weather more mild. Dora was so
bitterly disappointed that she burst into a
passion of tears.
It is always so cried the angry little
girl; "whenever one hopes for a pleasure,
the weather is sure to spoil it! Tiresome
snow I tiresome cough! tiresome day!
What a wretched beginning is this to the
year that I thought would be so happy "
And so, with tears in her eyes, discontent
in her heart, and murmuring words on her
lips, the ungrateful girl. sat down to the
plentiful meal provided for her comfort!
Dora never thought of the love which year
after year had spread her table, and filled
her cup, and richly supplied all her need.
A single disappointment was enough to


make her forget a thousand blessings which
she never had earned, never deserved, but
which her heavenly Father had showered
on her from her birth!
"Eh, Miss Dora, I wonder you are not
ashamed!" cried the nurse. Just hear
that robin redbreast singing outside in the
cold! Poor bird, the winter must come
hard upon him! His breakfast lies under
the snow! He has no basin of nice hot
milk, no blazing fire to warm him; yet he
sits on the bare leafless bough, and warbles
as if it were spring! You might learn a
lesson of content from the brave little bird
in the snow "
Dora dried her eyes and ran to the
window; she knew the note of her favourite
robin. She threw open the casement, and
in another minute her little friend with the
scarlet breast was hopping on to her finger
"Come in, pretty birdie!" she cried;
"come in and share my breakfast! I love
the nightingale and the linnet, that sing
when the hedges are green, and the meadows
gay, and the sun shining bright and warm;
but I love better the little robin that hops
(314) A





about on the frosty ground, and sings on the
leafless tree !"



The flakes were falling no longer; the
red wintry sun had come out, and hung like
a ball of fire in the sky.
"Dora, my child," said her mother, "put
on your warm cloak and your bonnet. You
may carry this shawl and basket of good
things as a New-Year's gift from me to poor
blind Bessy at the lodge."
Dora willingly obeyed. Impatient and
selfish as she had appeared in the morn-
ing, there was kindness in the little girl's
heart,-it was a pleasure to her to give
pleasure. Cheerfully Dora tramped through
the snow, leaving deep footprints behind
her. She could now admire the soft
white covering which spread over the earth,
and lay on the dark green leaves of the
laurel and holly, and made the roofs of
the dwellings look purer and brighter than
marble !
As Dora approached the lodge, tripping
noiselessly over the snow, she heard the
sound of singing within, ringing sweet
through the frosty air. So clear was the
voice of the blind girl that Dora caught
most of the words :-



I cannotseethe sunny gleam
Which gladdens every eye but mine;
But I can feel the warming beam,
And bless the God who made it shine.
0 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 :
But I can breathe their sweet perfume,
And bless the God who made the flowers
O Lord each murmuring 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 where
Thy 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 place
Where 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 at
the door listening to the soft sweet strain,
"how could I, blessed as I am with sight,
and health, and every comfort, begin the
new year with murmurs and tears, while a
poor blind girl in her humble home can sing
such a song as this ? "


Dora tapped at the door, and entered.
Betsy knew the sound of her step, and
turned her face towards her with a smile of
"A happy New Year to you, Betsy!"
cried Dora. "My mother has sent you a
soft warm shawl, and some nice little things
from our table."
It was a pleasure to see the bright look
on the face of the sightless girl, and to hear
her half-whispered words,-" How good
God has been to me "
Dora shared the delight which she gave
when she wrapped the warm shawl round
the shoulders of Betsy, and, one by one,
drew her treasures from the basket, and
placed on the blind girl's knees, oranges,
apples, plum-cake, and a nice little packet of
tea. Dora was perhaps as happy at that
moment as she would have been in the
chaise, had the day been warm, the road
clear of snow, and she herself on the way to
Mount Blane.
With the blessing of the poor upon her,
Dora quitted the little lodge, and tripped
away back to her home. She thought now


of her own little sister, and reproached her-
self for unkindness to one who was sharing
her disappointment, with a feverish cold
I must try and make Mary happy, shut
up as she is like a little prisoner in the
house. She shall see my pictures, and play
with my toys,' and we'll have a merry New
Year's Day together notwithstanding the
frost and the snow."
The redbreast had sung on the tree his
cheerful song of content; the blind girl had
sung in her darkness her song of meek sub-
mission; and now from the lips of Dora
there rose a sweet song of praise !
0 dear children, who in happy homes
now begin another year, with kind faces
smiling around you, loving voices breathing
good wishes, let your thanks for unnumbered
blessings now arise to your Father in
heaven! Should disappointments come to
you, as they come in turn to us all, let no
murmur escape your lips. Remember the
poor blind girl in her cottage, and the robin
that sang in the snow !


took great pleasure in forming a
: regiment of the tallest and finest
i"/' men that he could collect. A
<' splendid body of troops they
appeared, and the king was extremely proud
of them.
One day, it is said, Frederick took with
him the ambassadors from England, Austria,
and France, to review this distinguished
"Do you think," said the monarch to the
Austrian, "that your master, the Emperor,
has in his army any men of whom an equal
number could cope with this corps? "


I frankly own that I do not think that
his Majesty has," replied the courteous
What say you ?" said the king to the
Frenchman, repeating his former question to
him. The minister bowed to the monarch,
and returned much the same answer as the
Austrian had done.
The pleased king then turned to the
English ambassador. I know, my Lord
Hyndford," said he, "that your sovereign
has many brave men in his army; but do
you think that an equal number of them
would be able to conquer my regiment ? "
I cannot be so bold as to say that," re-
plied the Englishman; but I will answer
tor it that half the number would try."
Try! Yes; that little word works
wonders-let each of my readers prove the
power of it. The dull child sits with his
task-book in his hand, glancing at the page
which contains his lesson, without taking in
the meaning of the words before him-wish-
ing that the hour for study were over-sure
that he shall never master his task. Ah l
these tiresome columns are his regiment of



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 has
wished to subdue his temper, but it is
violent still; to overcome his laziness-it
still gains upon him: he is discouraged and
sad, what can he do now? Can he never
succeed in his efforts to please ? Let him
try again-yes, again and again; his faults
are the regiment of Prussians before him,


not invincible, however hard to be van-
quished. If the young Christian soldier,
with steady resolution, attempt to subdue
them, armed with faith and prayer, he may
not only try, but succeed!



"And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and
choked it."- -LUKE viii. 7.

SSHOULD like to be rich, very
rich!" cried Louisa; I should
;r, like to be as rich as the Queen !"
S Perhaps riches would neither
make you better nor happier,"
quietly observed her uncle, who was busy
at his employment as a watchmaker beside
"But they would, uncle; I am quite
certain that they would."
"You forget the words that we read last
night from the Bible, 'They that will be rich
fall into a snare.'"


I cannot see how that should be."
"The pleasures and cares of this life, and
the deceitfulness of riches, are apt to draw
our hearts from God. In the parable, they
are described as the thorns which spring up
and choke the good seed. We are too much
inclined to forget the Giver while enjoying
his gifts: this is not the case with all, but
it is the case with many."
I would never forget the Lord, because
he loaded me with comforts," replied Louisa.
"The more I received, the more grateful I
would feel. How much good I would do;
how many I would make happy! I would
build a church one year, and a school-house
another; and-why-there-can it be ?-
yes-there is mother herself coming along
the lane! Oh, I never thought that she
would be back from London till Monday "
and, with a cry of delight, the little girl
sprang to the door, to meet and to welcome
her mother.
The fond parent had hurried back from
London, whither she had been obliged to go
upon business. There had been much for
her to see-much to enjoy. Friends had


urged her to stay; she was weary and needed
rest; but the thought of her darling whom
she had left at home drew her, like a
magnet, back to Berkshire. She had never
before been separated from Louisa, and her
dear child had scarcely ever been absent
from her thoughts. All that the tender
mother saw that was wonderful or beautiful,
was stored up in her memory to amuse her
daughter. In the gay shops, nothing had
tempted the kind parent so much as what
she thought might give pleasure to her
child. And now she felt the dear arms
clasped round her neck, she could press her
little one close to her heart;--it was enough
for her to see her darling-and she thought
of nothing else till Louisa eagerly cried,
"And what have you brought me from
London, dear mother ?"
When the large travelling-bag was pro-
duced and opened, a number of books, a
packet of clothes, and a few other things
were hastily pulled out by Louisa, impatient
to find something more interesting to her-
self. It must have been a weary business
to have carried that great bag from the



station, three miles distant! Louisa's search
was soon successful. With repeated excla-
mations of delight she drew forth a little
Dutch doll, with its gay gilt ear-rings; a
lemon, enclosing a nest of others, box with-
in box; a book full of pictures; and two
shining fish, with a magnet to attract them
when floating in water.


Oh! how beautiful-how charming!"
cried Louisa, turning from one thing to
another, while her weary mother stood
patiently looking on. "Another lemon! I
think these funny little boxes never will
end ;-and oh, I must fetch water for my
fish to swim in. Look, uncle, look! they
will turn any way; just see-I am sure that
it will please you."
I do see something, Louisa, that does
not please me. I see a mother knocked up
with a long journey and the heat;--no one
has even helped her-off with her cloak-no
one has set her chair in its place. A cup of
tea would refresh her-no kettle is on the
fire: her child has scarcely a word or a look
to give her "
0 mamma, mamma!" said Louisa,
colouring at the reproof, "I was wrong,
very wrong; but the truth is, that I was so
much taken up-so much engaged with-"
"The gifts, that the giver was forgotten!"
interrupted her uncle gravely. "This is
the case with but too many in this world-
children of a larger growth, playing with
grander toys. We should know ourselves

well before we dare to affirm that there
would be no danger to hearts such as ours
in the pleasures of this world and the deceit-
fulness of riches."

,, .
t ,..-Y\
ril-,_! ; -- ... ,, / ^ _

I '




" ? iET you gone, you howling cur!" cried
? f the porter of a workhouse, as he
S kicked from the great door a poor
Lj-i' dog that had vainly tried to creep
through. The creature looked very
thin and wretched, and yelped with pain
as it limped away.
Little Charlie Rolle, who was passing that
way with his mother, grew red with anger
when he saw the cruel act, and heard the
rough words. "How could you treat the
dog so ?" cried the boy.
He has been prowling about here these
(344) 5


three days, and yelping all night," said the
"Perhaps he has lost some friend who has
entered the house," suggested Mrs. Rolle.
"Ay, that's it," replied the porter; "he
belonged to an old blind woman who has
come in, and don't want a dog any more.
We've enough of mouths to feed without
keeping curs," he muttered, as he shut the
large heavy door.
"Poor faithful dog !" cried Charlie; "so
he has been trying for three days and nights
to get to his old mistress, and has braved
cuffs and kicks for her sake. And he may
never be with her more. See-here he comes
again. 0 mamma, how thin he is; how
his bones seem ready to break through the
skin! I do believe that he has not eaten
anything all day; poor fellow, poor fellow "
At the voice of kindness the wretched dog
looked up and wagged his tail.
"Mamma, our house is not far off,-may
I run on before you and ask our cook for a
bone ?"
Indeed you may, Charlie," said the lady,
who had a heart as kind as his own. and who


felt pity for the helpless creature that had
lost his only friend.
Charlie ran so fast that he arrived quite
breathless at the door of his home, and he
rang so loudly that he brought up the servant
in a hurry. "A bone," he cried out; "a
bone for a poor starving dog and he could
hardly bear to wait till Mary fetched it.
Then he darted off with it in haste, meeting
his mother half-way.
They both returned to the spot where the
hungry dog still lingered, with his eyes fixed
on the closed door which shut him out from
his friend.
"Here, poor fellow, here!" shouted Charlie,
throwing the bone to the dog. The famished
creature sprang at it, and began eating it as
eagerly as if he had not tasted food for a
week. Charlie stood looking on, and feel-
ing more pleasure than he would have done
had he been himself enjoying a feast.

"Mamma, I am so glad, so very glad that


we met that poor dog," said Charlie, as he
walked towards home with his mother. It
is 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 her
son to the gate of their lawn, and then right
up to the door of their house. He did not
attempt 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 that
seemed to thank him.
Charlie could hardly speak or think of
anything for the rest of the day but the
half-starved faithful dog.
The next morning he burst into his
mother's room with, "0 mamma, the dog
is still at our door! I do believe that he
has been waiting there all night through.
May we not take him in ? may we not keep
him in our yard ? Since poor old Rollo died
the kennel has been quite empty. If I might
only have this faithful dog, I would treat him
so kindly, and feed him so well; and what a
jolly life he would lead."
"We might try what sort of a watch-


dog he would make," said his mother
"Oh, do-do !" cried Charlie, catching
hold of her hand; "he will be kicked, and
beaten, and starved, if left to wander about
all alone."
"He is a Newfoundland dog," observed
Mrs. Rolle.
"And I daresay that he will turn out a
fine handsome fellow when he is properly
fed and cared for. Only," added the boy
more gravely, as another thought crossed
his mind, "have we quite a right to keep
him ?-you know that he is not our dog."
I am glad, my boy, that you remember
to 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 myself
to the workhouse, see the poor blind woman,
and tell her about her dog. No doubt she
will be but too glad to know that he is in
safe hands."
Mrs. Rolle was as good as her word. Her
kind visit sent a gleam of joy into the heart
of poor blind Bessy. When the old pauper
heard of her dog, tears came into her sightless


eyes, and her voice trembled a little as she
said, Oh, keep him, kind lady, and welcome.
I'm thankful poor Frisk has found such
friends. He'll be faithful to you, I'm sure,
as he has been faithful to me. 'Twas a sore
trouble to part with him-he was my only
comfort on earth. But he'll be better off
with you than he ever was with poor Bessy;
and I could not have him in here."
When you have leave to walk out for a
little, you may come to our house," said the
lady, "and have a warm cup of tea, and let
your faithful dog have a sight of his dear old
mistress again."
The thin, wrinkled face of Bessy grew
quite bright at the thought; and never did
a week pass from that time without her find-
ing her way to Mrs. Rolle's house, and re-
ceiving a loud barking welcome from her
rough-coated friend.


Mrs. Rolle's house was but a very short
distance from a large county-town; but it


had a nice lawn in front, with grass as smooth
as velvet. Charlie and his sister Lucy were
playing there one day, and Frisk was sport-
ing beside them.
"Lucy," cried Charlie, I have not paid
you back the penny which you lent me to
give 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 chain
of daisies. Put it into that basket beside
you, and see if Frisk will be clever enough
to bring it to me."
"Here, Frisk, take it," cried Charlie,
throwing the penny into the basket. Frisk
looked up eagerly, wagged his tail, and lifted
the basket, as if he had been accustomed to
carry one all his life. But great was the
surprise of Charlie, when, instead of taking
the penny to Lucy, the dog turned round
and trotted off, through the open gate, down
the 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?"



cried Lucy, looking in wonder after the
"I'll be off and see !" exclaimed Charlie,
running after Frisk as fast as his legs would
carry him, without stopping to put on his
cap, which he had thrown down on the lawn.
Frisk, as proud of his basket and penny as
a soldier might be of his ribbon and medal,
trotted on at a famous pace, until he reached
a baker's shop, while Charlie ran laughing


and panting behind him. A good-natured
looking woman was standing beside the
"Why, if this is not poor old Frisk here
again!" she cried, in a tone of pleasure;
"and he has brought his basket and penny
as he used to do months ago. But, dear,
how fat he has grown!" She came forward,
stooped, and patted the dog, who rubbed his
nose against her gown, and seemed as glad
to see her as she was to see him again. The
woman then took the penny out of the basket,
and put in two stale rolls instead; Frisk, her
four-legged customer, looking on as if he
understood all about it.
Why," cried Charlie, bursting into laugh-
ter, "if Frisk is not buying two stale rolls
with my penny!"
I did not know, little master, that the
penny was yours," said the woman, smiling;
"I never ask Frisk how he comes by his
money. He has been accustomed to trot
here 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,


patting Frisk's shaggy coat, for he was much
delighted with the dog. "But remember,
the next time that you go shopping for me,
that I like fresh buns with plums better than
stale rolls without them; and don't suppose,
old friend, that I'll forget to give you your


0 Charlie, Charlie !" cried little Lucy,
as on one cold wintry morning she came run-
ing in haste from the gate through which she
had been watching carriages pass; "two cruel,
wicked boys have just done such a dreadful
thing,-they have flung a poor kitten into
the pond!"
Can't we save it?" cried kind-hearted
Charlie; and in a minute he had darted to
the gate, and through it, and had reached the
edge of the pond that was at the opposite side
of the road.
There, indeed, was a poor kitten, vainly
struggling in the cold half-frozen water, much
too far from the edge for little Charlie to
reach it.


I'll run for the garden rake," cried the
Oh, you'll be too late !" exclaimed Lucy,
who had followed her brother, and who now
stood wringing her hands and ready to burst
out crying. "See, the poor thing is sinking !"
Lucy had no time to say more;-there
was a sudden splash in the pond, and then
Frisk's head was seen above it as he swam,
as if he were swimming for his life, towards
the place where the poor kitten was sinking
in the choking waters.
"That's it; well done, Frisk; go it, old
dog," shouted Charlie, in great excitement.
" Hurrah! he has reached her-he has saved
her!" Charlie clapped his hands for joy;
while Lucy, too anxious to cry out, eagerly
watched the motions of the dog.
Frisk had indeed got firm hold of the
drowning kitten; and now, turning round,
he swam more slowly with his burden in his
mouth, till he reached the edge of the pond.
He then scrambled on shore, shook a shower
of drops from his shaggy sides, and running
up to Lucy, laid the dripping, half-drowned
looking creature at her feet.


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 ? Take
it home, and warm and dry it. 0 Frisk,
my fine fellow, you were just in time. You
deserve a medal, you do." And while Lucy
ran into the house with the kitten, Charlie
remained for a few seconds to pat and to
praise his faithful dog, which jumped about
in high glee.
Charlie was right, the kitten was not dead;
it lived to be as merry a kitten as ever played
with a ball, or ran round and round after its
tail. The children called it Brisk, it was so
quick and playful. I cannot say whether the
kitten long remembered its ducking, or was
grateful to its preserver ; but Frisk and Brisk
were always fast friends; the dog never
growled at the cat, the cat never snarled at
the dog. Brisk became an excellent mouser,
while Frisk was the faithful guard to the
house, and many a merry frolic they had both
with Charlie and Lucy.

I / r" i(- "
,u.`t~~, I^ ,:)..W^-.. ::
'.-- .-. .. -


:..' T was on the evening of a hot, glow-
ing day in India, when the air
C : seemed breathed from the mouth of
a furnace, that the young soldier,
S Walter, walked forth alone to a
grove not far from his barracks. His soul
was full of sadness, for he felt that evil com-
panions, and the temptations of a soldier's
life, had been gradually drawing him away
from his God. Walter had not enough of
religion to keep him from sinning, but he
had enough to keep him from feeling easy
in sin.
The stillness of the hour, the solitude of
the grove, had a calming effect upon the


mind of Walter. His thoughts went back
to his mother's quiet grave beneath the yew-
tree in the village churchyard in dear old
England. He remembered her last words
to him as he stood by her bed, when her
dim eye and ashen cheek showed that the
hand of death was upon her: "We shall
meet again in heaven Would the dying
hope of his parent be disappointed?
Ah if she had but known all the trials
that would come upon me, and how every
one around me would try to draw me into
evil, she would not have felt so sure of that
meeting," was the painful reflection of Walter.
"What a quiet place this is! there's no-
thing stirring near me. One seems more
close to God when there's nothing to remind
one of man. I can't pray in the crowded
barracks-I'm afraid of the jests and jeers;
but here, with only the green branches and
the blue sky above me-here I might pray,
as I once used to pray at the knee of my
mother And, yielding to a holy impulse,
the young soldier lad knelt down, and re-
peated the simple prayer which he had
learned when a little child.


0 God wash away my sins in the blood
of Thy dear Son, and give me a new, clean
heart, filled with Thy Holy Spirit, for the
sake of the Lord Jesus Christ! "
"Ah, Roostum has found him Roostum
has found him!" exclaimed a voice in the
Hindu language, which sounded so close to
Walter, that, startled and confused, he sprang
again to his feet.
A poor native, who had been stretched in
the shade for sleep or rest, and who had lain
so still that Walter had not been aware of his
presence, now came forward with his hands
pressed together, after the manner of the
Hindus when they approach a superior with
respect. His dark but handsome features
were brightened by an expression of joy, as
he repeated, Roostum has found him !"
What have you found ?" inquired Walter,
who had learned the language of India.
Roostum has found a second white man
who prays," replied the native. The first
showed me the pearl of great price, and then
departed I know not whither; and I have
long sought in vain for another who would
teach me how to keep the great pearl."


"What pearl? inquired Walter with
curiosity, glancing at Roostum, whose dress,
though faded and worn, showed him to have
once belonged to an upper class of Hindus.
"The sahib (master) knows, the sahib pos-
sesses that pearl, or he would not have knelt
down and prayed in the name of the Lord
Jesus Christ."
I do not understand you," said Walter.
Roostum fixed his large dark eyes on the
young soldier with a look of surprise, then
replied : "Does not the sahib know the words
of the Lord ? The kingdom of heaven is like
unto 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; and
blessed is he to whom it is granted "
Have you found it ?" asked Walter with
"The white teacher showed me where to
find it," replied the native with emotion;
"and since I have found it, I have locked it
close in my heart. It is worth to me all
that I have lost; for oh!" he added, tears
rising into his eyes, "great to me was the


cost of that pearl-Roostum had indeed to
part with all ere he could buy it."


Sit down beside me," said Walter kindly,
" and tell me what made you a Christian, and
what you have had to give up for the sake
of your new religion."
The Hindu obeyed, seating himself on the
ground, at the feet of the English soldier.
(344) A


"Roostum," he began, "had wealth in
abundance, -elephants, jewels, and gold.
Roostum had a home and friends, brethren
who honoured, a mother who loved him,
and a wife yet more dear than a mother.
Now, if his brother meet him, that brother
will turn away; his tender mother has
become a stranger to the voice of her son;
his wife counts her husband as if he were
already in his grave !
"I was even as my fathers," pursued the
Hindu, after a little pause, and thought by
pilgrimages, fastings, and alms, to please my
idol gods, and gain a title to future joys. I
heard that there would be great merit in
making a pilgrimage to the distant shrine of
an idol. Thither I resolved to travel, and,
to make the merit greater, I vowed to make
the 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 attempting
to make it, and perished miserably by the
way. Before I could reach the shrine I fell
sick, and fell exhausted on the mountain
path. Of all the pilgrims going the same


way, not one stopped to pity or to help me !
Hunger and thirst were preying upon me;
my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth ; I
longed in agony for a draught of water, but
there 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 then
a cup of delicious cold drink was offered to
my burning lips! I drank it as if it were
life, and opened my eyes and looked up, and
saw a Feringhee Padre (English clergyman)
bending over the poor Hindu with looks of
pity and love !
From that Feringhee-may God's bless-
.ing be on him !-I received medicine for my
sickness and food for my need; yea, and what
was more precious still, the medicine of truth
for a sin-sick soul, and food for a hungering
spirit I heard the missionary preach to a
crowd of pilgrims who gathered around him:
he told us that Jesus Christ had come to save
sinners, even the worst, that the gates of
heaven might be thrown open wide to all
who come to him by faith. Oh, thought I,
this is what I need-One who can save to
the uttermost-One who can do for me what


I have vainly tried to do for myself. I have
trembled before my idols, I have tried to
please them by offerings and penance; but I
never till now heard of a God who would be
my Saviour and Friend.
"The missionary soon went on his way,
and I never beheld him again; I shall see
him and thank him one day when we meet
in the courts of heaven. I did not finish my
pilgrimage-I cared not to visit the shrine.
What I needed was. some Christian teacher
who 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 remembered
how unfit and unworthy he was to lead others
in a path from which he had wandered him-
self. "Did you return to your home? he
inquired of the earnest Hindu convert.
The question brought a deep shade of sad-
ness over the face of poor Roostum. He
drooped his head on his breast, and a heavy
sigh burst from his lips. "I returned," he
faltered, "but I found no home; there was
no home for the Christian. My wife,--my
young, gentle wife,-wept and prayed me to


give 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 the
Saviour strengthened my soul in the hour of
temptation. I was turned away from my
own 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 the
word has been given : He that taketh not his
cross andfolloweth after Me is not worthy of
Me; blessed are they that are persecuted for
righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom
of heaven."
"God have mercy on me, an unworthy
sinner," thought Walter, "and give me grace
to serve Him in future with the love of this
poor Hindu. I will do what I can for this
faithful convert; it is little to what he has
done for me; for he has shown me that the
Christian must be ready not only to serve
his God, but, if needful, to suffer for Him too."
Walter supplied the wants of poor Roos-
tum, giving to him all the.little money which
he had about him, and which, but for their
meeting, would but too probably have been
spent on tobacco or spirits. Very gratefully


was his kindness received, Roostum repeat-
ing the promise of the Lord: Whosoever
shall give you a cup of water to drink in My
name, because ye belong to Christ, verily I say
unto you, he shall not lose his reward."
And so they parted, the soldier and the
convert going their several ways, but each
bound for the same blessed land. Walter
returned to his barracks, strengthened to
fight the good fight. He resisted the temp-
tations which surrounded him, maintained a
good character in his regiment, and lived to
return to his own dear country with a medal
and clasps, and a pension. He found how
true is God's holy word: Godliness is pro-
fitable unto all things, having the promise of
the life that now is, and of that which is to
Roostum had a shorter trial, and soon en-
tered into rest. Many friends were raised
up to the Hindu, who had left all to follow
his Lord. But it was not long that he
needed the kindness of earthly friends, for
before two years had passed he was called
to inherit the crown which the Lord hath
prepared for them that love Him. But to


Roostum, before he died, was given the great
joy of seeing his young and loved wife come
to the knowledge of the Saviour, and of em-
bracing in his arms a little dark son, whom
he could call by a Christian name.
Dear young reader have you found the
Pearl of great price," and is it indeed your
own ? Like Roostum, the Hindu convert,
do you think the love of the Saviour more
precious than all the world besides, and does
it make you, like Walter, ready to fight in
His cause against sin and self ? You are not
called to leave a happy home, or to give up
all you hold dear ; but your faith must be
shown in obedience, your religion in a holy
life. The naughty deed, the unholy thought,
the evil amusement, the sinful gain, these,
these must be given up, however painful the
sacrifice be. What have you ever parted
with for Christ ? To what proof of love can
you point as a sign that you are truly His
own ? Born in a Christian land, brought
up to know and to love the Bible, oh, have
your faith, your zeal, your love, been like
those of the Hindu convert ?

L; :~ (- "
- I



V" VER the side with ye, boy, quick;
-i one minute's delay may cost your
Lifee" exclaimed Mr. Gray to a
.- fellow-passenger, a lad of about
fourteen, who appeared to hesitate
about swinging himself down by a rope into
a boat which rocked in the waves below the
burning ship. The flames were raging
round mast and yard, the sails caught fire,
blazed and shrivelled, thick volumes of
black smoke hung like a funeral pall over
the vessel, and the awful red glare was re-
flected on the sea, which glowed like a fiery
furnace. It was no time for delay indeed,


and yet Reginald drew back from the
vessel's side. I had forgotten it," he ex-
claimed, and darted back towards the cabin.



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

lowered themselves into the boats, but there
was not room for all. Some, under the
directions of the captain, whose brave spirit
rose with the danger, hastily lashed spars
together to form a rude raft for the rest.
Mr. Gray -laboured among these, gasping
and almost fainting as he was from the heat,
which had become well-nigh intolerable.
Often he glanced anxiously towards the
hatchway, with a faint hope of seeing young
Reginald emerge again from the burning
cabin into which he had so daringly ventured.
The raft, the last hope of the crew, is
floating on the crimsoned billows, the
crowded boats have sheered off; Mr. Gray,
half-blinded and suffocated by the heat and
smoke, springs down on the raft; he is
followed by the captain and all who re-
mained of the passengers and crew, except
the poor orphan-boy. They must push off
in all speed from the vessel, lest some burn-
ing spar fall on them and crush them. Just
as they are about to do so-" Hold hold "
cries Mr. Gray, starting up from his place,
as a slight form, blackened with smoke, and
with dress singed and burned, appears on the


deck; he springs over the bulwarks, misses
the raft, and the next moment is dragged out
of the billows to lie gasping and exhausted,
with his head on the knee of Mr. Gray.
"Thank God, my poor boy, you are
saved !"
Thank God faintly echoed Reginald
A strange appearance was presented by
the lad. His hair and eyebrows were
singed, marks of burning were on his face
and his hands, his dress hung in tatters
around him, but he held in his grasp a flat
parcel wrapped up in oil-cloth, and a faint
smile rose to his lips as he murmured, I'm
so glad that I have it all safe !"
That was no time for questioning. It
was with the utmost difficulty that those
upon the raft managed to push it far enough
away from the blazing vessel to avoid de-
struction. Their situation was one of ex-
treme danger. A ship which had happily
been sufficiently near to be attracted by the
sight of the flames, and which had picked
up those who had escaped in the boats, had
passed on without an attempt to save the suf-

ferers floating on the raft. It was not till the
vessel had burnt down to the water's edge,
and the flames had sunk at last froin having
nothing further on which to vent their fury,

that the captain dared to raise a boat-sail
which he had had the foresight to carry
with him. By means of this he succeeded,
after long hours of painful anxiety, in reach-
after long hours of painful anxiety, in reach-


ing, soon after sunrise, the coast of Cornwall,
from which the homeward-bound vessel had
been not many miles distant when the
terrible fire had occurred.
When the worst of the peril was over,
and the raft, under a favouring breeze, was
floating towards the land, Mr. Gray, who
felt a strong interest in Reginald Clare,
asked the poor lad some questions regarding
his family and position. He knew already
that the boy was the orphan of a missionary
who had died at Sierra Leone; he now
found that young Reginald was returning to
England, to be dependent upon an uncle
whom he had never seen.
I am glad that you have succeeded in
saving something," observed Mr. Gray, who
had himself preserved a box containing his
principal treasures; doubtless that parcel,
for which you risked your life, contains
something of very great value."
"I do not know what it contains, sir,"
was Reginald's reply, as he languidly
raised himself on his arm to gaze on the
coast towards which they were approach-


Not know what it contains exclaimed
Mr. Gray.
"It is not mine," said the boy in ex-
planation; "it is a parcel intrusted to my
"By some friend whom you are most
anxious to serve ? "
"No, sir; by one who is almost a stranger;
but I promised to deliver it safely to his
mother," said Reginald Clare.
And you really rushed back into the
burning cabin to carry off what was not of
the slightest value to you, and, perhaps, of
little to any one else ?"
The pale cheek of the boy flushed, as if he
were almost hurt at the question, and he
made the simple reply, I had been trusted
-I had promised-what else could I have
done? "
The party safely landed in England. As
the fire had left poor Reginald penniless,
Mr. Gray liberally paid for his journey to
London. Reginald arrived that evening at
his uncle's home, where he was received at
first with amazement at his burned and
ragged state, till surprise was changed to


pity, on the cause of his strange appearance
being known.
It soon became clear to the boy that his
.uncle, Mr. Brown, and his wife, were not
in easy circumstances, and that they were
likely to feel his maintenance a very un-
welcome burden. The thin, sharp-featured
lady, in her gown turned and dyed, looked
gravely at the tattered clothes, which must
at once be replaced by new ones.
Did you save nothing from the fire ?"
inquired Mrs. Brown, as on the following
morning she poured out at the breakfast
some very pale tea.
"Nothing but a parcel which I had in
charge for a Mrs. Bates of Eccleston Square
-here it is," and Reginald laid on the
table the flat parcel wrapped in oil-cloth.
" Could you kindly tell me how to send it?"
There was no difficulty in sending the
parcel, as Mrs. Bates happened to live near;
but Reginald could see that his aunt was
provoked at this being the only thing which
he had rescued out of the flames. Her impa-
tience broke out into open expression, when,
as the old couple and the boy sat together


in the evening by the light of a single dim
candle, 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 sadly
broken and spoiled in the journey.
Fern-leaves trash !" exclaimed Mrs.
Brown, dropping the stitches of her knitting
in vexation. If you had only had the
sense to carry out your desk instead; there
was sure to be some money in it. If you
had only saved a good suit of clothes, and
not come here like a beggar !"
Mr. Brown leant back in his arm-chair
and laughed. "Dried fern-leaves!" he
chuckled, "and spoiled ones to boot!
They've only been pulled out of one fire to
be chucked into another !"
Poor Reginald was much mortified and
vexed. The burns on his face and hands
seemed to pain him more than ever. "And
yet," thought he, I need not mind, I only
did my duty. I had been trusted, and I
had promised; I could not have broken my
word. How could I guess what was in the
parcel ?"


Rat-tat!" It was the knock of the
evening postman. Another letter for Regi-
nald Clare.
I hope," said his sharp-featured aunt.
"that it may contain something better than
the last. Dried fern-leaves, forsooth What
rubbish !"
Reginald broke the seal, and opened the
letter. His hand almost trembled with ex-
citement as he read it. With a sparkling
eye he gave it to his aunt, who looked at it
through her old steel spectacles.
"Well, here's something odd," she re-
marked. "Why, who writes this? John
Gray-I never heard of the name."
"He was my fellow-passenger-a mer-
chant-and so kind !"
"Kind !-I should think so !" exclaimed
Mrs. Brown, her sharp features relaxing
into a smile.
"What does he say, wife ?" asked Mr.
Brown with impatience.
"Why, he offers to take this boy here
into his house of business without any pre-
mium !" exclaimed the wife, handing over
the letter to her husband ; "because, as he


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 should
take him by the hand-first pay for his
journey to London, then offer-you see his
own word-offer to treat him as a son "
"Wife, wife!" cried Mr. Brown, laying
his finger on the letter, and looking with
hearty kindness at the orphan as he spoke,
"you and I made a precious mistake when
we fancied that Reginald had carried no-
thing away from the ship but a trumpery
packet of fern-leaves He carried away
something worth more than all the gold and
jewels of the Indies,-a character for trust-
worthiness and truth-a character for doing
his duty to God and man; and depend on't,"
continued the old man, raising his voice, a
boy who has that will never long be in want
of a friend."

." ....-'-..

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