Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: Upon the beach
 Chapter II: At home
 Chapter III: Among the Dories
 Chapter IV: Mike the gardener
 Chapter V: Mike's prisoner
 Chapter VI: The fishing-party
 Chapter VII: The temperance...
 Chapter VIII: Decision and...
 Chapter IX: A new field of...
 Chapter X: Principle tested
 Chapter XI: A Sabbath on the...
 Chapter XII: A dying father's...
 Back Cover

Title: Burtie Corey, the fisher boy, or, A wise son maketh a glad father
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028360/00001
 Material Information
Title: Burtie Corey, the fisher boy, or, A wise son maketh a glad father
Alternate Title: Wise son maketh a glad father
Physical Description: 112 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 16 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Gall & Inglis ( Publisher )
Publisher: Gall & Inglis
Place of Publication: Edinburgh
Publication Date: [1872?]
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fishers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fathers and sons -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Temperance -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Diligence -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Success -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1872   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1872
Genre: Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Scotland -- Edinburgh
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00028360
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 - 002223164
notis - ALG3412
oclc - 61164849

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
    Table of Contents
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Chapter I: Upon the beach
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Chapter II: At home
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    Chapter III: Among the Dories
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Chapter IV: Mike the gardener
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Chapter V: Mike's prisoner
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Chapter VI: The fishing-party
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    Chapter VII: The temperance pledge
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    Chapter VIII: Decision and change
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    Chapter IX: A new field of labour
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Chapter X: Principle tested
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Chapter XI: A Sabbath on the ocean
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Chapter XII: A dying father's joy
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library

"-A -

'[he Captain kept Burtie in the forepart of the vessel
much of the time ro watch for tlhe schools" of




, Wie San uaketJu a hlah jOifcr.




AT HOME .. 14



















M ist Sou mahtflj a 0 6 -'I Hi'& .tli in.




I DON'T want that boy to play with
us," said little Anna, in a timid tone, as
she clung to her sister Belle.
"Oh, that is Burtie!" replied Belle.
" He is a good boy, and will show us how
to play here on the beach, and to find the
prettiest shells."
"Well," persisted Anna, still keeping
near to her sister, "he has such strange
clothes on, that I don't want to play with


him. Only see what great ugly boots- -
big enough for a man! and I should think
he had his father's jacket, too."
While this conversation was going on,
a boy in a fisher's dress, about fourteen
years old, was walking slowly on the beach
towards the children. His name was
Burtis Corey, but he was generally called
Burtie. His face had a look of sadness;
but when he spoke, it was lighted up with
a pleasant smile.
"Good morning, Belle," said Burtie, as
he approached the children. I hope you
and your little sister are having a pleasant
time this beautiful morning."
"Good morning," replied Belle. "My
sister Anna is afraid of your big boots and
jacket; but I am sure she won't be afraid
of you when she knows you as well as I
I hope not," said Burtie, pleased and en-


courage by Belle's kind answer. "Come,"
he continued, "go with me, and I will
show you where the prettiest moss-flowers
and sea-shells are found."
Moss-flowers!" exclaimed Anna, clap-
ping her hands. "And do they grow in
the sea? I never heard of flowers in the
sea. Do let me see some, right off."
Anna's fear of the fisher-boy was gone
when she had fairly looked into his honest
though sunburnt face, and had heard the
gentle tones of his voice. She at once
left the side of her sister, and darted off
after Burtie. He led the way to a little
cove in the side of a rocky point which
ran out from the main land upon the
beach. Against this rock the sea, at high
water, dashed with great force. The sea-
plants which it brought up were deposited
in the cove. The waves did not, however,
lodge any more of them here than on the


top of the beach, along the ridge of sand
But that had been visited by other
children, and by men with teams-
gathering them up to spread upon the
land. When they reached the cove,
Burtie took up in his hand a bunch of
black-looking sea-plants dripping with salt
"Are those moss-flowers, Burtie?" in-
quired Anna, with a look of disappoint-
ment. "They are nothing but ugly old
sea-weeds;" and she turned to leave the
cove in disgust; but Belle entered and
immediately began to inquire of Burtie
about the flowers. She patiently watched
his proceedings, and listened to his ex-
planations. He carefully selected from
the ugly-looking weeds some very delicate
plants, and laid them upon a dry part of
the rock. He then minutely examined
every part of the cove, selecting with


great care the choice specimens which he
found. Having gathered quite a bouquet,
as he called it, he took from his pocket a
newspaper, and put them, one by one,
between its folds. He then instructed
Belle how to press them, and to arrange
them between the leaves of a moss-flower
album. The girls had never seen one,
and they became quite interested. Burtie
assured them it would be very beautiful,
-as beautiful as any bouquet from their
summer garden.
When the mosses were selected, Burtie
took Anna by the hand, saying, "Come,
Anna, I will show you something that you
won't call 'ugly.'"
"0, Burtie!" exclaimed she, taking the
offered hand with the familiarity of an old
acquaintance, "I sha'nt call your pretty
things ugly again! What are you going
to find for us now? a moss-flower garden?"


The little girl, who was not quite four
years old, thought that where there were
flowers there must be a garden.
"The bottom and shores of the sea are
all God's garden," said the fisher-boy,
smiling; "and a splendid great garden it
is too, I guess. But the waves have to
gather its flowers for us, and throw them
upon the beach."
"Why does God not have a gardener to
take care of the flowers?" said Anna.
"Old Mike works all the time in my
father's garden, and he says there wouldn't
be a flower worth having if he didn't look
after them. But what does God have
flowers in the sea for? There isn't any-
body to see them. Do the fishes love to
look at the flowers, Burtie?"
"I don't think the fishes care much
about looking at the flowers," said Burtie,
" but perhaps they love to eat them."


This pleasant conversation was brought
to a sudden close by the arrival of the
children at some large round rocks called
"boulders," interspersed with many smaller
ones. The whole made a sharp point of
land jutting into the sea. Among these
rocks, near the main land, were many
small shells, which had been made white
by the action of the sun and water.
Some were so tiny that Anna could hold
several of them on the end of her finger;
others were as large as the end of her
"Oh, hese are pretty!" exclaimed
Anna, sliding down from a boulder and
slipping about upon the pebbles. "
mean to gather my pockets full."
Belle seemed equally pleased. She
darted about among the rocks, often hid
entirely from Anna and Burtie. Both of
the girls quite forgot the command of


their mother to stay but an hour on the
beach. They were at length reminded
of it, however, by a sharp voice, shouting,
"Miss Belle! Miss Belle!" Belle soon
made her appearance on the open beach.
"Miss Belle, is it you? Isn't it me-
self that's been hunting for ye till I'm
most dead! It's not kind in ye to be
scaring the whole house by yer long stay.
Meself it was that heard yer mother tell
ye to stay but one hour, and ye have
stayed four hours!"
"Why, Jane!" said Belle, "what a silly
girl you are! We have been on the beach
but little over an hour, I'm sure."
"An' I'm sure ye are mistaken, Miss
Belle; for it's twelve o'clock this very
minute, an' ye have been here since
Belle was surprised at the lateness of
the hour, for the time had passed swiftly


away since she met Burtie. Taking
Anna by the hand, she thanked Burtie
for his kindness, and hastened after
Jane, the Irish servant-girl, who had
been sent by their mother to find
Isabella and Anna Harris were children
of wealthy parents, who had a beautiful
residence by the sea-side. Their winter
home was in the city. The children, long
shut up between brick walls, were de-
lighted with the liberty they enjoyed in
(he country, and grew strong and healthy
In the free air and sunshine.




MR AND MRS COREY, Burtie's parents,
lived in a small cottage on a rocky hill,
a little distance from the shore. Far and
wide, in front of it, could be seen the sea,
covered with white sails of the passing
vessels. In the distance, upon the right,
were the church spires of the great city.
Just a little inland, and much nearer, lay
the busy town. When the violent winds,
on their way to the land, rested down
upon the waters far off on the ocean, then
came the great billows dashing furiously
against the shore. Burtie was fond of
watching the spray at such times, as it


shot up into the air and was borne in
mists against the windows of his cottage
When Burtie came in from his pla3
with Belle and Anna, he met his father at
the door.
My son," said Mr Corey, in a gentle
tone, "it seems a long time since you
went out."
"Yes, father; the time did slip awa3
faster than I supposed. I met the Harris
children upon the beach, and they did not
appear to know how to amuse themselves;
and so I spent the morning in finding
mosses for them and in showing them
where to find the shells. Their mother is
so kind to us, I wanted to make the
children happy."
"You did right, Burtie," said his
father. "I am going down to help Mr
Harris's gardener, as much as I can, this


afternoon. You know that it is but little
that I can do. I am afraid your mother
is working too hard; she has so much
sympathy for me. Keep close at home,
Burtie, and help her while I am gone."
Burtie did not need any prompting in
his duty to his mother. Her anxious face
and patient toil pleaded for her. She saw
the slow decline of her beloved husband.
For many months consumption had been
plainly wasting his manly strength. The
exposures to which the winter's fishing had
subjected him had hastened his decline.
And now, as the summer came on, he was
utterly unable to enter his boat or to go
into the bay. The thought of parting with
a devoted husband, and the knowledge that
the support of herself and Burtie would
depend upon themselves, were a heavy tax
upon her Christian faith.
Burtie had already been of some assist-


ance in supporting the family, by labour
upon the beach and in the boats; and, like
most boys of his age, he was very fond of
being about the sea-shore. But his mother
wished that he might learn to be useful in
other ways. Seeing how feeble her hus-
band seemed as he went to his labour in
Mr Harris's garden, she had formed the
plan in her own mind to propose to Burtie
to go with him and learn to bear a part of
his burden, and to take his place, by and
by, altogether. This plan she suggested
to Burtie.
"I don't like Mr Harris's Irish gardener,"
said Burtie, betraying some impatience.
"Your father will work with you-at
least, at present," replied Mrs Corey.
"But I don't like to work in a garden.
I prefer to work on the beach or in the
boats," said Burtie.
The disappointment and sorrow that his


mother's countenance expressed made Bur-
tie regret this opposition to her wishes.
He really took great delight in pleasing
her; but he was sometimes led astray by
a too earnest desire to carry out his own
plans. He loved to work and to aid his
parents; but he was ambitious of being
independent above his years, in his way
of doing it. Now, seeing that his mo-
ther's feelings were hurt, he replied,
after a little pause, "I will try, mother : I
do want to help father."
"You can begin by trying to improve
the appearance of our own garden," she
replied, wishing to put his good purpose
to the test.
Burtie did not linger in its performance,
when he had once formed a good resolu-
tion. He took his hoe and began dili-
gently to remove the weeds from the
growing vewgtation. His busy hand had


given a fresh look to the whole planting
of early peas before the sun began, in his
going down, to touch the tops of the dis-
tant hills. His mother just then stepped
out to commend his diligence.
"Why, Burtie !" she said, in her kind
way, the peas seem to thank you for re-
moving the weeds and giving them frest
earth. I really believe they have growr.
since you have been out here, to show
their gratitude."
"And I shall thank you, mother, by
and by," said Burtie, when the green
peas come smoking upon the table."
Just at this moment Burtie heard his
father's voice. He dropped his hoe, and
hastened to the brow of the hill. Mr
Corey had seated himself midway on the
hill, weary and faint from his little efforts
at work during the day, and from the
labour of climbing the steep ascent. BuT-


tie slipped lightly down to where his
father sat.
"I wish I was strong enough to carry
you up, father," said Burtie, extending his
hand to show his desire to help him.
"Thank you, my son. You help me
already by your kind words of sympathy.
You go ahead, and I will follow on slowly.
I am not so old as to need to be led, but
I see that it, is not age alone that gives a
man trembling limbs."
Burtie thought of what his mother said
at noon, and he sat down at the top of
the path, watching the slow progress of his
father with moistened eyes. His mother
came to the door to meet her husband,
and to call his attention to the improve-
ment which had taken place in the garden
since dinner.
"I see," said Mr Corey; "Burtie is be-
coming the man, and I the boy. I fear I


have not been of so much service to Mr
Harris this afternoon as Burtie has to me;
and yet he was kind enough to compli-
ment my work, and to say he should credit
me with a full half-day's labour. But it's
a child's labour that I do."
Mr Corey had been a strong and active
man at his work. But the fishing business,
which he had followed from boyhood, had
never been very profitable. In some sea-
sons his hard toil had scarcely paid enough
for the most economical living. Besides,
sickness had cost him much; but by the
careful management of his wife, the little
cottage was theirs. Now, as he saw that
the time was soon coming when he would
be obliged to give up all labour, he derived
great comfort from the obedient will and
active hand of Burtie.
"How ashamed I am," thought Burtie,
" that I objected to mother's plan. I can


after a while do father's work at Mr
Harris's garden, and let him stay at home
and work in ours, and then he will not be
obliged to go down and up the hill."
Burtie was started from the reverie into
which these thoughts had thrown him by
his mother's voice saying, The boats are
coming round the point, Burtie, the dories
will soon be upon the beach."
"Burtie darted down the hill like a
fawn, and was soon waiting at the water's
edge for the dories to land.
How impulsive !" exclaimed Mrs Co-
rey, as the boy disappeared over the brow
of the hill. I see how much wisdom we
need in directing his strong ambition
One thing thou lackest, my son," said
Mr Corey, seeming to be absorbed in his
own thoughts, and speaking as if Burtie
were present.




"HURRAH for my boy!" shouted one
of the fishermen, as Burtie waded towards
his dory to aid in drawing it from the
The boats which the fishermen use in
landing their fish from the sailing-vessels
are flat-bottomed and very light. They
call them dories. The skilful fisherman
in his dory rows through the surf and ven-
tures into the heavy sea where sailing
boats would at once sink.
Burtie seized the rope attached to the
dory, and, putting it over his shoulder,
waited for the word 'fTrom the boatman.


The latter stood by the side of the dory,
nearly to the top of his high boots in water,
watching the approaching wave.
"Here comes a rouser I Now, away,
Burtie !" he shouted. The big wave came
rolling up the beach, and, as it lifted the
dory heavily laden with fish, the com-
bined efforts of the man pushing behind
and Burtie at the rope, shot it up the
smooth sand so far that it could be easily
unloaded into the carts.
Burtie had on his heavy boots which
had looked so ugly to little Anna Harris.
They covered nearly his whole legs, so that
he waded into the surf without wetting his
The cart having now come alongside,
Burtie jumped into the dory, and tossed
the fish into the cart with great activity.
Having emptied the boat and pushed it
into the surf, he sprung into it, seized


the oars, and rowed for the fishing-vessel,
which had dropped her anchor at her
moorings, about one-fourth of a mile from
the shore. By the aid of the men remain-
ing on board, the dory was again filled
with fish.
You are a little fellow to go over the
breakers with that load of fish," said one
of the men, as Burtie cleared the dory from
the vessel.
"That's our friend Corey's son," said
another. "I should be willing to be sick
awhile to have my boys like him."
The speaker had not taken his eye from
Burtie during these remarks. Keep her
head on, Burtie," he shouted, "and pull
away when you get between the big
"Ay, ay !" answered the latter, lifting
his dripping oars from the water, and
watching with steady nerves and a keen


eye the ocean swells which were coming
towards him, like the successive ranks of a
well-disciplined army charging upon the
enemy. He gently dipped his oars to keep
his boat's head towards the shore, until the
crest of a high billow had passed by.
"Pull away pull away, my boy!"
shouted the men from the fishing-vessel,
who were watching with deep interest the
youthful oarsman.
Burtie did not need this prompting.
He lay back upon his oars with manly
vigour. His boat shot forward between
the waves towards the shore. Repeating
these dexterous movements a few times, he
soon glided through the breakers upon the
That boy will make a man," said the
fisherman on board the vessel who had not
once lost sight of Burtie until lie saw his
boat safely upon the beach.


Ie's one already," said his companion.
" There's not a man who sails from the
cove that could carry a dory through this
heavy sea in better style. That boy shall
have his father's place in my boat this
fall and winter if he wants it."
When Burtie had thrown the fish into
the cart, he dragged the empty boat along
the shallow water. As the nearly-ex-
hausted breakers washed up under and
around its bottom, he .gave it a vigorous
push, and landed it upon the clear beach.
Then, putting the rollers under it, he
pushed it along the dry sand over the
high-water ridge into its usual resting-
While Burtie had been thus engaged,
the man from whom he had taken the
dory, being thus relieved early from the
landing of the fish, had gone to make his
sales among the retailers, who were wait-


ing with their carts in the road and
around the fish-houses.
"Look here, Burtie," said he, just ai
the latter was turning to go to another
uart of the beach,--" look here, Burtie;
come with me."
Taking him aside, he pointed out to
sea, and spoke in a low tone: "Do you
see the rest of the fleet coming?"
Burtie looked as directed, and his clear
sight was just able to discern the white
sails of a dozen fishing-vessels making for
the beach.
They were not expected to-night," said
the man; but uncommon good luck in
fishing has sent them home early. In an
hour fish will be down very low. But I
have cleared all out by being among the
buyers early. I should have just missed
the chance had it not been for your help,
and here's a dollar for your part;" and


the kind-hearted man slipped four silver
quarters into Burtie's hand.
Oh, no, sir!" said Burtie; and he was
about to add, "I only wanted to learn
how to work; I didn't want any pay;"
but the boatman placed his hand upon the
pocket which contained his own full purse,
and hurried from the beach.
"Why, Burtie said his mother,
starting suddenly as he sprung into the
room, panting like a race-horse; "you
have come home early, and the boats are
not all in."
"See!" interrupted his father, who sat
by the window looking upon the ocean,
"the whole fleet seem to be coming!
They are in early, and so have good fares,
I have no doubt. There'll be enough to
do, and perhaps, Burtie, you can yet lend
a kind turn to some of my old boat-


Burtie had not recovered his breath
enough to speak freely. He opened his
hand upon the table which his mother
had just drawn into the floor for the
evening lamp, and deposited the silver
quarters, and before his parents could ask
for an explanation he had disappeared
down the hill.
"What can Burtie mean ?" said his
"Honestly earned, I dare say," said
Mrs Corey, as she picked up the quarters
and dropped them, one by one, into her
husband's hand.
Yes, honestly obtained, I have no
doubt," said Mr Corey; but I cannot see
how they could have been earned in so
short time. I hope our poverty has not
led our boy to. make any ungenerous de-
mands upon my old friends for what little
aid he can render them in landing the fish."


Burtie's parents had allowed him to go
upon the beach when not otherwise em-
ployed, knowing his readiness to aid the
men, some of whom had been very kind
to them in their afflictions. The cultiva-
tion in their boy of a habit of making
himself useful was, in their estimation, of
great importance.
It had been some time dark before the
fleet of fishing vessels landed their abun-
dant fares" upon the beach. Prices
were low, and the buyers in fine spirits;
but the fishermen were not so cheerful.
Burtie waded into the surf and laid hold
of the boat of one of his father's old
friends, to aid in bringing it up within the
reach of the carts.
"Get out of the way, boy?" was the
sharp greeting which fell upon his ears.
I'll get the fish out alone, or I'll throw
them back into -the sea. We've had to


handle a whole cargo of fish, and for small
pay I'll warrant."
I won't touch a fish, sir, if it lessens
your pay," said Burtie, feeling hurt at his
Sbluff repulse.
Why, Burtie, is that you! I thought
you one of the peddler-boys who always
want a hand-cart full of fish for every
little turn they do. Here now, Burtie,
I'll give you half of the lot if you'll pitch
them into the cart; and I'm thinking
you'll be poorly paid at that, considering
the sharp word I just sent at you."
"I'll empty the dory and roll it up to
the landing while you go and make the best
sale you can," said the fisher-boy. Maybe
you will have better luck than you fear."
Burtie soon finished the work, and then
hurried away to another part of the beach,
without waiting for the result of the
owner's sale of his fish.


When he returned home, he had no
difficulty in satisfying his parents that he
obtained in a creditable way the silver
"It's a dollar for being prompt, my
boy," said his father. It will often
happen so through life. A boy, to thrive,
must set his sails in the calm, or he won't
catch the fair wind when it comes. This
teaches a lesson worth remembering,
dear Burtie; remember now is the ac-
cepted time, and now is the day of salva-
tion; work while it is the day; the night
cometh when no man can work."




THE next morning Mr Corey was un-
usually ill. He sent to tell Mr Harris's
gardener that he could not help him that
day. Burtie had just returned from this
errand when Mr Harris himself called
upon Mr Corey.
"I am very sorry," said the latter,
" that I cannot help your gardener to-day.
I am really quite feeble. I find my
strength fast failing. I can hope for but
a few more days of labour."
Well," replied Mr Harris, in a sym-
pathizing tone, "I am truly sorry for your
illness. But so far as my work is con-


cerned I think you can accommodate me
well. I was upon the beach last evening
for an hour or two. I desired to learn
something of the business ways of your
fishermen, which are so novel to me. So
I put on my farmer's dress, and mingled
freely with the men upon the beach for
awhile, until my attention was attracted
by the very uncommon conduct, as I
thought, of a young lad about fourteen
years of age. I became so interested in
him, that from the time I first saw him I
lost sight of all other attractions. I
watched with great interest his little boat
as he pushed manfully through the surf
until its safe return. On inquiry I
learned it was your son, the friend of my
little daughters. His conduct was noble.
It was manly. I want just such a boy in
my garden for a few weeks. I came to
propose that he should work for me, and


allow you the rest and quiet which may
restore your health."
My rest is yonder, and there only,"
replied Mr Corey, in calm Christian sub-
mission, pointing upwards; but your
favourable opinion of my son, and your
proposal, afford me much comfort. Burtie
will be in the garden to-morrow morning."
"Another of the benefits of being
prompt," said Mr Corey, when Mr Harris
had retired; six weeks' wages to be
added to your silver quarters, besides the
great pleasure you have given to your
mother and me."
Burtie seemed hardly to hear these en-
couraging words from his father, he was so
much interested in Mr Harris's proposal;
yet he felt that his father's approbation
was more than the silver quarters or the
pay to be obtained from the gentleman.
The gardener, Michael,-or, as he was


familiarly called, Mike,-an honest, blunt
Irishman, did not like Mr Harris's arrange-
ment in giving him a boy in the garden
in exchange for a man. He, however, re-
ceived the announcement of the fact from
his employer in his usual bland manner.
When Burtie arrived, and he had looked
into his honest face and taken hold of his
strong hand, he quite softened in the pur-
pose that he had formed of giving the lad
a bit of his mind, that he might know
how to behave in so responsible a place.
"An' is it you, my lad, that's a-coming
to be my help in the garden ? an' don't
know a daffodil from a daisy, I'll war-
rant?" said Mike, by way of making ac-
"But I can learn," said Burtie, promptly.
"An' kill all my flowers in larnin',"
replied Mike, but in a tone far too good-
natured to frighten his pupil.


You shall see," said Burtie.
"That's it, my lad i Isn't it Mike that
knows when he sees, as well as another
Pointing to the tools which he wished
Burtie to use, Mike led the way down the
carefully smoothed pathway to a little bed
of budding flowers.
"There now," said Mike, I'll see
whether ye'll pull up more flowers than
Mike had a sly kind of good nature in
these flings at his new helper. He was, in
fact, delighted with his spirit and appear-
While Burtie was busily gathering the
weeds from the flowers, Hugh Nolan came
down the road, in his own snail-like pace.
Hugh had been sent on an errand to the
store by his mother. She had bid him
return as soon as possible; but Hugh was


one of the moping, sleepy boys who never
make haste except when running into mis-
chief. Unfortunately Hugh espied Burtie
at work among the flowers. Setting his
basket down, he came up to the high
picket fence and shouted, "Halloo, Burtie!"
Halloo, Hugh I said Burtie, casting
a hasty glance at the loiterer, without
stopping from his work a moment.
"A new business for you, Burtie!"
Rather," said Burtie.
"How do you like it?"
"I should like being in the garden,"
continued Hugh; I reckon I'd sell a few
bunches of the flowers to the great folks
at the cottages; and I'd have a few of
them splendid grapes from the greenhouse.
Ha'n't you had a bunch or two, Burtie?"
No," was Burtie's short reply, still
keeping at his work.


"You needn't be so (I..-. said Hugh.
"I don't see what hurt there would be
in taking a few flowers, or grapes either.
Come, Burtie, toss me over some of them
roses! Old Mike won't miss them, and
Mr Harris has more than he knows what
to do with."
"They are not mine," said Burtie
working away with unceasing diligence.
You are a little fool!" exclaimed
Hugh, vexed at Burtie's steady principle
and cool denials. "I'll let you know that
you can't get rid of me so easy."
Hugh began to suit his actions to his
words by tossing stones over the fence at
Burtie. They fell among the delicate
flowers, and into Mike's carefully-trailed
vines, making sad work. Burtie started
from his work to avoid the stones, and
was beginning to remonstrate against the
wanton mischief, when Hugh uttered a


shriek of alarm and started off at full
"It's Mike that has you, sure!" said
the honest gardener, who at one or two
vigorous leaps had overtaken the fleeing
rogue. Hugh felt that it was no child's
grasp into which he had so suddenly fallen.
He cried most lustily with mingled terror
and shame. But Mike, holding him by
the collar of his coat, strode along with
him towards the farmhouse, as a city
policeman would bear away to the lock-up
a young culprit detected in shop-breaking.
"My mother wants me to go to the store,
quick," said Hugh.
"An' aren't it a pity ye didn't go
quick said Mike. "It's not the like of
yer mother to be sending ye here to bate
down all my l....:.. and vines, and to
break a boy's head with yer big stones.
It's the flowers and the nice grapes that


ye would like to steal, is it? I'm a think-
ing ye'll get what's not so pretty nor so
Thus consoled, Mike drew Hugh along
to the stable, intending to shut him up
until Mr Harris's return from the city, to
whose judgment he purposed to submit
his case. So, pushing him into the gran-
ary and shutting the door, he turned the
key, and went back to the garden to exa-
mine the damage done by the stones.
Mike had been at work among the
shrubbery not far from Burtie, his presence
not being known to either of the boys.
He had heard and seen all that had
When Hugh began to throw the stones,
he slipped out of a side gate which was
seldom used, and had crept softly quite
near to Hugh before he was perceived.




WHEN Mike returned to the garden he
found Burtie just finishing the work upon
the flower-bed in which he had been so
diligently employed.
"It's a smart job that you've done,"
said Mike, "besides all the bother that
you've had with the young rogue."
"What will you do with him?" inquired
Burtie, quietly.
"Do with him? won't I report him to
Mr Harris? then won't he be reporting
him to his father; and then won't he bate
him within an inch of his life!"
I know Hugh's father," said Burtie.


"He beats him a plenty; but it don't
seem to do him any good. He's a drunk-
ard himself, and never teaches his boy to
do right. Hugh gets plenty of blows,'and
but little else, in that quarter."
These words softened the feelings of
Mike towards the offender. He began to
pick up the stones which Hugh had
thrown upon the flowers, and to bind up
the broken vines. As things at length
assumed their usual appearance, Mike's
good nature returned.
"You're the boy for me, Burtie!" he
suddenly exclaimed. "It's not only a
busy hand about the work that ye keep,
but ye has kind words for them that does
wrong. What now is it that ye'd be
doing with Hugh ?"
"Try a little kindness. It will be a
new medicine, and may be it will work


"Come along with me,. then, Doctor
Burtie. I will stand by, and you shall give
him the medicine. May be Mike would
give the wrong sort in spite of -:! ...lI."
Mike having resolved to give his pri-
soner up to Burtie's treatment, they both
hastened to the stable.
Here, Hugh," said Mike, unlocking
and pushing open his prison-door; "here's
Doctor Burtie. Ye tried to break his
head with yer big stones, and he's come
to try to break ycr wicked heart, so that
there'll be a dacent one in ye."
The softened tone of Mike and the for-
giving countenance of Burtie prepared the
mind of Hugh for further efforts for his
benefit. "Hugh, do you know Mr Harris?"
said Burtie.
Guess so," said Hugh.
Do you remember," said Burtie, "who
it was that treated us boys to oranges at


the picnic last summer, when all the boys
said they never had such a feast of sweet
oranges in their lives?"
Hugh was silent, but he did remember.
"Do you remember who had the swings
put up on that occasion, and how you
swung nearly all the afternoon?"
Hugh was still silent.
"And wa'n't those fireworks splendid
that Mr Harris let off in the evening of
last Fourth of July?" continued Burtie.
"They cost a hundred dollars, and he
bought them on purpose for the beach vil-
lage boys; and that one which you touched
off yourself-wa'n't that splendid? All
the boys, you know, envied you; and Tom
Jones said he meant to fire off next time;
but Mr Harris did not let him, for he
seemed to be real partial to you."
Hugh's recollection of Mr Harris began
to be very distinct.


"Besides," said Burtie, "don't you re-
collect that Mr Harris spoke to you once
at the railroad station, after you'd swung
on his carriage behind, and said, 'My boy,
the carriage was made for people to ride
inside, and my carriage-driver shall carry
you back on my seat;' and you said it
was the grandest ride that you ever
Hugh's memory being now fully re-
freshed with regard to Mr Harris, Burtia
said, in a very quiet way, Hugh, I
suppose you don't care if Mike keeps you
here until Mr Harris comes home?"
"Please, Burtie, don't let Mike give
me up to Mr Harris," said Hugh. It
was real mean in me to break his vines
and flowers, and I won't do it again."
Burtie thought these words were a
good evidence that his remedy was work-
ing well Mike stood by, with his hand


thrust into his pocket, listening with fixed
attention to Burtie's talk, and watching
with a keen eye its effect upon the offen-
der. Burtie did not answer Hugh, but
continued to talk.
Wa'n't that a fine boat-row that we
had the other night? Lots of the boys,
you know, wanted to go with me in my
boat; but I wouldn't have any but you.
Would you like another such row, Hugh?"
"I don't think you'd have me in your
boat," said Hugh, I have been so mean
this morning. I hope you'll forgive me,
Mike stepped back a little, and, turn-
ing round, wiped the big tear from his
face. Then, turning to Hugh, he said,
in a tone of pretended severity, But
what shall I do with ye for all yer stones
and yer impudence, and yer killing of my
precious time?"


"Beat me, Mike," said Hugh; "but
don't tell Mr Harris."
"Not a mite of that is it in my soul
to do to ye," said Mike, wiping his eyes.
"Run, now, I tell ye, and do yer mother's
errand, and tell her that when ye de-
sarve a bating, to send ye down to Doctor
Yes, sir," said Hugh, scampering
away much faster than he came.
"How do you like our young gardener,
Mike?" said Mr Harris, on his return from
the city.
"It's not the like of him, sir, that's to
be found in Ameriky," said Mike.
"But plenty as good in Ireland, I sup-
pose you mean?" said Mr Harris.
"There's but my own father's son in
would Ireland that's the like of him," said
Mike, promptly.
Mike then related to Mr Harris the


incident of the morning, laying much em-
phasis upon his own smartness in catch-
ing Hugh. Mr Harris repeated the story
to his family in the evening with much
"The grapes that Burtie refused to
steal shall be sent to his sick father, by
and by," said Mrs Harris.
"Yes," responded Belle, "and I will
carry Mr Corey some flowers, too, if you
please, mamma."
"And we must all follow Burtie's good
example in trying to do the wicked Hugh
good," said Mr Harris.
The six weeks of Burtie's engagement
with Mr Harris passed swiftly away. At
their close, Mr Harris paid him thirty
dollars, saying, "It's as much as I would
pay most men; but Burtie has been so
"It's more than I could have earned in


the same time," said his father, with much
feeling, as Burtie placed the money, with
manly pride, in his hands.
"You could once have earned much
more," said Mrs Corey, soothingly. "Our
Burtie is now strong and his father weak."
"That is just like you, my dear,"
said Mr Corey; "always ready with some
apology for my weakness; and I thank
our Heavenly Father that I can almost be
glad to be sick with such a son to bear
my burdens."



A WILLING mind for labour makes
work plenty," was a favourite maxim with
Mr Corey. His son, Burtie, was a con-


stant illustration of its truth. He was
never long without some profitable em-
ployment. It was now the season for the
fishing-parties from the city. Two or
three of the best sailing-boats belonging at
the beach were constantly employed by
those seeking recreation upon the water.
"Burtie," said the master of one of
these boats one evening, "I want an extra
hand on my boat to-morrow. We are to
have a large party, and I think you will
be just the lad for us."
"I will ask father," said Burtie, modestly.
"That's just like the little fool!" said
Hugh Nolan, who happened to be standing
near, with some of his wicked associates.
They all joined in a laugh as they saw
Burtie scampering up the hill to get the
approbation of his parents. These bad
associates had destroyed Hugh's kind feel-
ing towards Burtie. They had persuaded


him that it must have been by some sharp
plan of Burtie's that Irish Mike had
caught him so easily; and they laughed
at what they called Burtie's preaching.
"I'll tell you now, Hugh," said one of
the boys, "that trip to-morrow will be
worth a dollar to Burt, besides all the nice
bits to eat from the great folks. It would
be fun to get his chance while he is gone
to ask his father."
Good!" shouted Hugh. "I'll have it!"
"If you please, sir," said Hugh, step-
ping up to the boatman, and trying to be
poite, "would you engage me for your
trip to-morrow? That boy who just run
up the hill never goes on such excursions.
His father is very pious, and don't think
they are right. I will engage now."
"Then," said the boatman, "you do not
have to run off to ask the consent of your
parents i'


"No," said Hugh, catching at the re-
mark, and thinking to please the boatman
by his smartness; "we are boys of too
much spirit for that."
"Then," said the boatman, very coolly,
"you are not the boy for me. I'll wait
for Burtie's answer."
Burtie soon returned in fine spirits.
His parents had given their consent.
" Burtie an't quite the fool we thought he
was," muttered Hugh, as he turned away
in shame and anger.
Punctually at the time appointed, on
the following morning, the party arrived
at the beach. The dories were drawn up
to the tide-water mark, and the gentlemen
and ladies, by the aid of planks forming a
kind of bridge, were put on board without
wetting their shoes. Then the strong
arms of the boatmen pushed them into the
breakers, through which they were rowed


to the yacht. The sails were run up, her
mooring-anchor slipped, and she swung off
beautifully before the wind. The sandy
beach and the rocky shore were soon seen
in the distance, and on every side were
the green waters. The party distributed
themselves about the deck in little groups,
some watching the foaming track of the
vessel from the stern, while others gazed
with delight at her plunging prow as she
rushed bravely onward. Burtie was below
preparing the fishing-lines and bait. With
this business he was perfectly familiar.
Having sailed about twenty miles, which
seemed but a short distance to the party,
the yacht came round, her sails fluttering
loosely in the wind, while her anchor
dropped upon the fishing ground.
"Lines and ba't, ladies and gentlemen,"
said Burtie, coming upon deck with a
basket of fishing tackle. He modestly


showed the gentlemen how to bait their
hooks, and to draw in their lines at the
proper time to secure the fish. This in-
formation the gentlemen communicated to
the ladies with much satisfaction; and all
soon saw how much they were indebted to
their attentive little boatman for their
success in fishing.
The boat-master was to prepare the
party with a fish dinner; but they, in the
meantime, were served with a lunch by
their own servant-boy, John. The clear
sea air, and their early start from the city,
had given them an excellent appetite, and
the lunch was fully appreciated.
"Now is our chance," said John, toss-
ing Burtie some of the rich cake, as he
came into the cabin with the remains of
the lunch.
"No, I thank you, John," said Burtie.
"Not eat cake when you can get it for


nothing!" said John, with surprise. "Per-
haps you don't like to eat the broken
pieces. They're good enough for me, but
I won't be particular; here's a whole
"Much obliged to you, but I would
rather not," said Burtie, quietly.
"Well," said John, "I don't see why
John continued to diminish, not only
the bits of good things, but the unbroken
"Well, now, here is something that I
reckon you will have," said John, opening
a basket and taking out a bottle of choice
wine, and shaking it at Burtie. "These
city folks don't come a-sailing to drink
your dirty water. They have emptied
several bottles, and got six left, so they
won't miss one."
"I hope you are not going to drink


that bottle of wine!" said Burtie, starting
up and walking towards John.
"No; I'll not drink all of it myself.
I'll not be so mean as that. Didn't I say
here was something that you'd like?"
I never drink anything which intoxi-
cates," said Burtie, settling himself back
upon the bench.
Maybe not," said John, with a sneer.
" You don't got such as this often. Now,
show that you are not a coward, and take
Burtie had learned that true bravery is
shown in daring to do right, so he an-
swered John firmly, No, I never drink
wine. I signed the pledge a long time
ago, when my father did; besides, the
wine is not yours."
Well, you are a little dunce!" said
John, offended at the last remark. You
can enjoy your silly temperance notions,


and I'll enjoy a bottle of wine to wash
down my lunch."
Burtie, seeing that the foolish boy
would not be persuaded from his bottle,
left him, and went upon deck.



THE fish dinner was preparing in the
fore part of the boat, and the ladies and
gentlemen were having fine success in
fishing; so John was forgotten. B3Lrtie
was very attentive to the party, helping
them out of a difficulty occasionally, when
their lines became entangled together.
"We are favoured with a fine, attentive
little fellow," whispered one of the ladies


to the gentleman who seemed to have the
management of the business of the party.
Yes; and we have lost a very inatten-
tive one," he replied, suddenly recollecting
himself, and looking around for John.
John!" exclaimed several of the party
at once-" where's John!" The alarm at
the newly-excited recollection that he had
not been seen for some time became
general. "Oh, I hope he has not fallen
into this dreadful sea!" exclaimed one of
the ladies, nervously.
"I think you may find him among your
good things in the cabin," said Burtie.
Soon one of the gentlemen came from
the cabin, leading, or rather dragging,
John into the open air. He was com-
pletely drunk. He had not only freely
used the expensive wines, but in his
attempt to ascend the cabin stairs, he had
fallen back upon the basket which con-


trained what was left, breaking the bottles
and spilling the wine upon the floor.
The sailors were called upon to aid in
bringing him to his senses. This they did
in their own rough way. They drew a
bucket of water from the sea and threw it
into his face, as he lay upon the deck.
John soon came to himself enough to
understand some of the reasons why Burtie
would not taste the wine. He lay sick
and wretched upon the deck, an object of
ridicule and reproach.
While the party were eating their din-
ner, Burtie stole away to speak to John.
He had slyly left his old place, and stowed
himself among the ropes and chains on
the fore part of the boat, and had hauled
over him a piece of sail-cloth,
"0 Burtie!" said John, "I wish I had
taken your advice. What a fool I have
been! I shall lose a good place! Mr


Curtis, my employer, is a real temperance
man. I shall be turned off for this, and
then what shall I do ? Burtie, Bur-
John covered up his face and wept
"If you are real sorry," said Burtie,
" and mean never to do so again, maybe
Mr Curtis will forgive you this time."
Oh! if he would, I'd be a temperance
boy, like you, right off."
Burtie went into the cabin, where the
confusion which John had made still re-
mained. He gathered up the pieces of
broken bottles, wiped up the wine, and
put things in a more inviting condition.
He then took down a little bottle of ink
and a piece of writing-paper, and wrote
the f .1..'-.. i,, pledge:-
I, John Ryder, do pledge my solemn
word and honour that I will never taste


of any intoxicating drink, except it be
ordered for me by a physician."
Burtie then folded the paper, put it
into his pocket, and hastened to the deck
to see if he could be of any service to the
ladies and gentlemen.
As soon as the dishes were removed, the
yacht was put under full sail, beating"
her way back to the beach. The party
kept very quiet about the deck, giving
Burtie an opportunity to visit again his
erring friend John.
0 Burtie!" said John, in a despairing
tone, "I wish you would throw me into
the sea!"
"What!" exclaimed Burtie.
I am so sick," replied John, and I
have been so wicked and foolish, I'd as soon
you'd throw me into the sea as any way."
"Our Irish Mike," said Burtie, "calls
me a doctor. So I have come with a


medicine which will be better than a cold
bath in the sea. Come, John! sit up,
like a man, and read my recipe."
"Can't sit up," said John, in a tone of
helpless stupidity; "can't do anything.
It's of no use, neither. Nobody will care
for me now. Mean to get drunk every
day; might as well as any way."
Such talk is all nonsense," said Burtie,
a little sharply. "You can be something
if you try. Come, John, sit up here, I
say, and take my medicine; its warranted
to cure, or no pay."
Well, what is it?" said John, still with
his head half-buried in the old sail-cloth.
Burtie read the pledge, and then, reach-
ing it out to John, said impatiently, "Come,
sign! I've a good plan in mind to get
you out of this scrape, and make all right;
out if you won't do anything for yourself,
I'm done with you."


"Can't do nothing," said John, in a
whining tone.
Burtic cast at John a look more of con-
tempt tlan of pity, and walked proudly
away. "lie an't worth saving," he said to
himself. "He's nothing anyhow!" With
these self-complacent feelings Burtie tried
to think no more about John; but he
could not. He was not satisfied with
himself. What would father say? was a
question forcing itself upon his mind.
Then the answer was brought up,-I gave
him a fair chance to be helped; h1
despised my plan.
Just here was Burtie's sensitive point.
He wanted his plan accepted at once.
He was quite wilful in such matters; so
he was slow to yield to his convictions of
the better way. At last, in a much
better frame, he returned to John.
"Come, John," he said, kindly, "I want


to help you. This pledge is a notion of
mine that I am real set about. But
if you will sign, I will try to make
up this matter between you and your
"Oh, if you would!" said John, giving
a little evidence of returning resolution.
He rose, with a great effort, and rested
upon one elbow, and took the pledge from
Burtie's hand. He slowly studied out its
meaning, and then sat squarely up, with
evident returning energy, exclaiming,
"I'll sign it, Burtie, and keep it, too!
But then, Burtie," he added, despondingly,
after signing the pledge, Mr Curtis won't
forgive me. I was to be a clerk in his
store by and by if I did 11, and my
mother said it was a fine chance, and I
might be a rich man sometime; but I've
thrown all my good luck away. It's use-
less, after all, to try."


"Maybe not," said Burtie, lifting John
into a more comfortable position, and
grasping his hand with. a cordial interest.
"I'll see what can be done. Try is my
Burtie left John in a very befitting
frame of self-condemnation, while he
sought Mr Curtis, the gentleman who had
manifested a general care for the party.
"I have a favour to ask of you, Mr
Curtis," said Burtie, balancing himself on
the deck, in good sailor fashion, as he ad-
dressed Mr Curtis.
"Well, my fine lad," said Mr Curtis,
"we know you deserve some token of
favour from the party, and so we are ahead
of your request. We have just made up
a small sum in this purse for you, to
show that we approve of your manly con-
"Oh no, sir!" said Burtie; "I did not


mean that at all! I cannot take that. I
only wished to ask if you would please
forgive John his foolish and wicked con-
duct, and allow him to retain his place
with you. I think, sir, he will not do so
Burtie handed the pledge to Mr Curtis,
in evidence of John's sincere purpose to
Mr Curtis read it, and then passed it
round to the company. "I had fully re-
solved to dismiss John," he said, at length;
"but since you have taken his case in
hand, and have done so much towards
making him a better boy, I 'I allow him
to keep his situation. Besides," added Mr
Curtis, turning to those of the party sit-
ting near him, "there is another reason
for forgiving John. The wine, brought
on board contrary to my wish, tempted
him. In that he was wronged."


Without waiting for a renewed offer of
the purse, Burtie hastened with the good
news to John.
"It's all right, John!" he exclaimed,
joyfully. "Now, be a man, and show
yourself brave in doing right!"
It was some time after the party had
landed, and had started on their way to
the city, before Burtie was ready to leave
the yacht. He then hastened home with
a light step and a merry heart. He
bounded up the rocky hill-side, as if it
were early morning instead of the weary
evening hour.
"Here comes Burtie!" said his father,
as he heard his quick step. "A good
conscience makes a lively step."
Burtie greeted his parents with a cheer-
ful "Halloo, father and mother! See! I
have got nothing less than a full dollar.
The captain said he made a good trip, and


wouldn't name anything less for my
share." Burtie laid his dollar upon the
table with the air of one who had tri-
umphed in battle.
"See this, too!" said his mother, open-
ing a purse and pouring ten dollars in
silver upon Burtie's dollar bill. Burtie
knew the purse as the same offered him
by Mr Curtis.
"We know all about how it was, Bur-
tie," said his father. "A note came with
the purse explaining everything. The
friends offered you three dollars at first,
but when they learned what they called
your noble conduct towards John, they
made it ten. The party are in the city
by this time, so we won't contend about
the gift. 'A wise son maketh a glad
father.' "




FoR several weeks after the fishing ex-
cursion Burtie found constant employ-
ment on board the yacht. His good
name became known to all the captains,
and even to many of the pleasure-seekers,
who preferred him to any other boy.
"We are to have an extra party to-
morrow, Burtie," said the captain of the
best pleasure-boat, one Saturday after-
noon. "It will be the most profitable
party of the season, I reckon. They are
all rich folks; and when they came to en-
gage the boat, I named about double my
usual. price, but they did not make a


word of objection. Two dollars to-mor-
row shall be your part. Pretty well for a
boy like you! There are twenty more on
the beach who would like to go in your
place, but I would not give them your
chance. Your poor father needs the
money, and he and I have always been
good friends, and his boy shall always
have from me the extra chances like this."
The boatman's long flourish of words
about this favour so kindly offered to Bur-
tie was intended to cover up his fear that
he would not go. His crew had earnestly
requested, in making the arrangement
to go, that "the little commodore," as they
called Burtie, should be one of their
Burtie had thrust his hands into his big
pockets while this request was being made.
When the man paused for an answer, Bur-
tie remained silent and thoughtful. See-


ing his apparent indecision, the captain
continued talking--" Of course you will go
on such an extraordinary occasion, even
though it is Sunday. I should not wonder
if I was able to pay you as much as three
dollars. It is to be a famous party. It is
said that among those going are judges,
lawyers, a member of Congress, and even
a clergyman. It will be an affair to be
talked about for a long time."
Burtio knew his father's principles about
the keeping of the Sabbath. They were
very decided. Yet, he reasoned, may this
not be an exception to ordinary Sunday
parties? Why should I be more particu-
lar than the clergyman who is to be one of
them ? Then, if I do not go, I shall
offend the captain, and, :,. lose all my
chance in the excursions for the season.
Besides, I shall be making a good sum of
money to help father.


With this reasoning Burtie allowed him-
self to adopt the plan proposed to him for
the following Sunday; yet he would not
finally settle it without his father's consent;
so he replied, I will ask father, sir."
I desire an answer now," said the
man, in a tone of disappointment.
I will be back soon and let you know,"
said Burtie, turning towards home.
Burtie did not feel satisfied with his
errand; yet, having decided the question in
his own mind, his natural stubbornness led
him to wish to carry out the plan. He
stated the case to his father, and resolutely
offered a few of the reasons he had enter-
tained in its favour. Burtie read his
answer in the sorrowful expression of his
father's countenance. Mr Corey's only
reply was, I wish you, Burtie, to remem-
ber the Sabbath day to keep it holy, as I
have always taught you."


Burtie was not accustomed to argue a
point when his father had decided it. He
returned to the beach and gave the man
his answer.
Boy !" replied the captain, haughtily,
" see that you never enter my boat again;
and I shall use my influence to keep you
from all the excursion-boats ?"
Burtie retired to his own home and
room. He did not care for the man's reply
and threat; but he felt humbled. He saw
that his father was right and he was wrong.
He had never felt more keenly that his
heart was not right before God. He re-
peated his prayers, before retiring to rest,
with more than usual earnestness. The
words in the Lord's prayer, "Forgive us
our debts as we forgive our debtors," had
a meaning that he had never felt before.
In the morning he read much in the Bible,
and was early at the Sunday-school, which


met before the public service. His teacher
was there, but the class had not yet come.
His lesson was concerning the young man
who came to Christ to inquire what he
should do to have eternal life, found in
Luke the eighteenth chapter, and from the
eighteenth to the thirtieth verses. Burtie
had studied it much, and was more than
usually interested in its meaning. His
teacher noticed this interest; for Burtle
studied his lesson from the moment he
took his seat until the superintendent's bell
rung for the school to begin. During the
recitation of the lesson, Burtie asked many
questions about the character of the young
man who came to Christ. This led to
very full explanations by the teacher. He
showed that the lesson taught that we
might be very moral, doing a great many
'kind things to others, and doing no hurt to
any, yet lack "the one thing" necessary


to be a true Christian. This one thing,"
the teacher said, was a heart given to God
through faith in Jesus Christ.
Burtie had been taught this truth by his
parents, but t..e never felt it as he did now.
He had that morning indulged in a little
pride in thinking that he had resisted the
temptation to do wrong. He had often
felt that he was very good; but now he
perceived that he had always lacked what
God had most required. His heart began
to appear very wicked. The preaching of
that day seemed unusually pointed and in-
structive. When the Sabbath closed, Bur-
tie retired to his little chamber to read over
again the story of the young man, and to
think of what his teacher had said about
it. He prayed that the Holy Ghost might
help him to obtain the thing that he
Burtie's parents discerned this interest


for his personal salvation with great satis-
faction; and when, after a time of earnest
seeking, he found the "pearl of great
price," they rejoiced with him. It had
been their prayer from his infancy that he
might be a true Christian. They were not
satisfied that he was truthful, industrious,
and obedient. They rejoiced in these good
traits, but prayed that he might have the
great change. Now they could say, Our
hearts are made glad indeed."



THE next Sunday after this great event
in Burtie's life, he prepared to go to the
Sabbath-school with unusual pleasure.
There was a sweet peace in his heart,


and he longed for the place where he
might hear of God and his Word. He
had a strong desire, too, that others should
know the same peace and joy. He re-
solved to start early, and call for Hugh
Nolan, and tell him, as they walked
along, concerning his newly-found trea-
sure. He did not find Hugh in an
amiable mood. Ile seemed sad, and much
displeased with himself and everybody
around him.
Good morning, Hugh How do you
do ?" exclaimed Burtie, bounding into the
room with a face beaming with delight.
"I'm well enough," said Hugh, gruffly,
keeping his eyes fixed upon the floor.
It was evident that Hugh felt the sting
of a guilty conscience, and that Burtie's
kind greeting seemed like words of re-
"Come, Hugh," continued Burtie, "I


want you to go to the Sunday-school with
me right off now. Get ready, quick! I
have something good to tell you!"
Don't want to go," said Hugh. I
hate Sunday-schools!"
The countenance of Burtie changed to
an expression of pity and sadness. "How
can you say so, Hugh !" he said, kindly,
laying his hand on the erring boy's shoul-
der, and looking in his face with tearful
eyes. How can you say so, Hugh? Oh,
it's so good to be there!"
Do go, my son," said Hugh's mother,
in a pensive and beseeching tone. "It
will do me so much good to have you go!
Your father will soon be up, and it will
be better for you to be away."
Hugh was not wholly lost to the tender
entreaties of his mother. Her goodness
was almost irresistible. So, to please
her, and, as she 1._ .1, to be out of


the way of his father's ill-temper, he
began sullenly to get ready to go with
Burtie. His mother sighed as he came
down stairs with his best clothes, pur-
chased by her own self-denying toil that
he might attend Sunday-school, sadly
soiled by his recent Sabbath-breaking.
But she uttered no word of reproach. She
had, during the week, put them in the
best order possible, and now, as he passed
out with Burtie, she kissed him affec-
tionately, saying, Now, you will go to
Sunday-school this time, won't you?"
0 Hugh !" began Burtie, with great
warmth, as soon as they entered the lane,
"I am trying to be a Christian; and I
am so-happy!"
"You always was a Christian," said
Hugh, looking at Burtie with surprise.
Oh, no!" said Burtie; "I had such
a wicked heart before I prayed to the


Saviour to take it away; and I believe
he has, and everything seems so pleasant
now! Hugh, won't you be a Christian?"
Can't," said Hugh.
Oh, yes," replied Burtie ; Christ is
our help."
Could not keep religion anyhow,"
said Hugh. Father would kick it out.
of me."
Burtie paused for a moment after this
remark. Tears of gratitude filled his
eyes while he thought of his own fa-
voured, home, and of pity for unhappy
But your mother would help you,"
said Burtie, and God would help you;
and maybe," he added, with animation,
" your father would then become a good
man !" Hugh was, in his turn, silent.
The good purposes that bad company and
Sabbath-breaking had destroyed were ex-


cited anew. He looked upon Burtie with
envy, but was oppressed with a feeling
of discouragement. With such different
feelings the two boys took their places in
the Sunday-school.
When the school was closed, little
Anna Harris came running up to Burtie
in great glee. She had in her hand a
"Sunday-school token" which her teacher
had given her for a good lesson. She
held it up to Burtie, exclaiming,-" See!
is not this nice ? My teacher gave it to
me! Oh, I am so sorry she is going to
move away!" Then, seizing his hand,
and looking into his face, which she
thought seemed happier than ever, she
whispered, coaxingly, Won't you be
our teacher? I mean to tease the
superintendent to make you to be our
Burtie laughed at his little friend's


partiality, and, patting her upon the cheek,
said, No, little Anna; I am only be-
ginning to learn myself."
"Oh, you know ever so much!" re-
plied Anna; and she added, with great
simplicity, You are good, too."
The tears started to Burtie's eyes at
these words, while he thought how far
from good his life seemed to him. Anna,
seeing the tears, and thinking she had
said something wrong, became very sober.
Reaching up both her tiny hands to clasp
his neck, and to receive a reconciling kiss,
she said, "I didn't mean to say anything
wrong. I do love you, Burtie!"
The next Sabbath Burtie's superinten-
dent placed him at the head of a group
of happy little girls, of whom Anna Harris
was one of the most joyous and full of
talk. Anna's father had communicated
her request, and the superintendent said


he would try the experiment of placing a
class of very little girls under the charge
of Burtie. He doubted whether it would
work well. But, after watching the class
and its teacher for several Sabbaths, and
noticing that the teacher never appeared
to see anybody during the recitation hour
but his scholars, and that his little pets
seldom took their eyes off him, he thought
it would do very well.
But Burtie's new and pleasant place in
the school was the occasion of a very
serious trial. Frank left the school again
in ill-humour. He said Burtie felt too
grand to be in a class with him; he must
set himself up to be a teacher; and he
wa'n't a-going to Sunday-school any more
"to be looked down upon." Burtie
pleaded, and Frank's mother wept, but
they could not prevail against Frank's
wicked nature, aided by his father's evil


influence, who said, Hugh sha'n't go to
the Sabbath-school unless he wants to."
Burtie felt deeply grieved by Hugh's
conduct, and thought that perhaps it was
his duty to become a pupil again on his
account. With great simplicity and confi-
dence he related all his trials to his father.
" Don't be faint-hearted, my son," said Mr
Corey; "but keep'your class. All will be
right. Success never comes without trials.
The soldier who can't bear discouragements
is not worthy of a victory."
Burtie looked into his father's face as
he uttered these words. It appeared more
lovely to him than ever; but it was very
pale. His voice, when he spoke, trembled
much. "I'll keep my class, if it is only
to please father," said Burtie; "and I
don't believe I shall have a father many




I DON'T want Burtie to go off and stay
away from the Sunday-school," said Anna
Harris, as she stood upon the beach
watching Burtie's preparations to row his
dory to the fishing-vessel.
Maybe, Anna, I shall come home on
Saturday," said Burtie. If I do not,
when I come I'll tell you all about our
Sunday-school on board the vessel."
Poh you can't have a Sunday-school
in a fishing-vessel!" said Anna, with evi-
dent contempt. You haven't any library
books, and no little papers, and no children.
Of course you can't have a Sunday-school.
I want you to stay at home. I wish I
had told my father not to let-you go."


Burtie laughed at Anna's ideas of a
Sunday-school, and throw her a kiss as his
dory disappeared from the beach.
The season for mackerel fishing had ar-
rived. The boats used, in catching them,
a large net called a seine. When the
fishermen saw a school,"-that is, a
shoal, or large number of fishes together,
-this net was taken into the dories, and
spread out, one edge sinking in the water.
When the mackerel crowded against this
net, it was drawn together, and sometimes
several hundred barrels of fish were caught
at once.
Burtie had engaged to go in one of
these vessels on its next trip. After
having the beach, they sailed along near
the shore. The captain kept Burtie in
the fore part of the vessel much of the
time, to watch for "the schools" of mac-
keiel. HIe was told to keep a sharp


look-out." When the mackerel were near,
the water looked black with them, and
they could often be seen, too, leaping into
the air.
So Burtie watched closely, gazing in
every direction. But it was very tiresome
to look steadily hour after hour and day
after day, and see nothing. His thoughts
at such times wandered away to his father,
whom lie had left much worse than ever
before. His pale but calm countenance
seemed to be before him. How much
pleasanter to be at home than to be here "
would sometimes escape from his lips.
" My cheerful room, where everything shows
my tender mother's care, and the happy
Sunday-school Oh, I shall love them
more than ever when I return to the
shore !" Such were the yearnings of Bur-
tie's heart; but he made no complaint, but
cheerfully did all that was required of him.


The boat sailed many miles without see-
ing any signs of mackerel. Burtie was
seldom away from his station at the look-
out," and all the crew felt that if there
were any to be seen they would not escape
his notice.
The week passed, and no fish appeared.
Sabbath morning came. It was a beautiful
morning, and, as some of the men said,
just the morning for the mackerel armies
of the ocean to show themselves. But the
crew had all signed an agreement, before
they left the beach, not to get out the net
nor to throw a line on the Sabbath. Bur-
tie's father had suggested this arrange-
ment, and had, by the influence of his
known excellencies, obtained the consent
of all the owners of the vessel. It was on
this account that he had allowed Burtie to
go in the vessel, with a probability that it
would be gone over the Sabbath. Now,


the first Sabbath from home had come,
which was to try the good resolution of all
on board. No look-out for fish was kept.
Burtie was sitting in the cabin, reading
over some of his Sunday-school lessons, and
thinking of the explanations the teacher
had given him. He was thinking, too, of
his own little class. He felt his heart
drawn to them more than ever, and some-
thing seemed to whisper, This is the
pleasure of trying to do good." Then his
mind -called up the presence of his dear pa-
rents. "Father will not think I shall break
the Sabbath," he said, almost audibly.
"He will not have that to worry about."
While absorbed in these thoughts, he
heard the captain shout from the deck,-
'Let go the dories, boys! out with the net!"
Every one was on deck in a moment,
except Burtie. He readily understood what
was going on. The mackerel army" had


come, and now was the time to stand firm
for principle. He remained alone, tnd
spent a few moments in prayer, asking God
to aid him in doing right. While thus
employed, a voice shouted from the top of
the cabin stairs,-" Hurry up here, boy!
The biggest school of fish that ever swam
the ocean are bearing down upon us!"
Burtie walked calmly up the stairs to the
deck. All was confusion. The dories
were already let down the vessel's side,
and the men sat in them ready to row for
the tempting prize. The net had been
lifted upon the deck. A long black line
of fish was approaching, as if inviting a
capture. Some of the men had paused,
seeming to have an unwelcome recollection
that it was the Sabbath, and that they had
sailed as a Sabbath-keeping boat. But no-
body had courage to speak for the right.
"Lend a hand to this net, Burtie," said


the captain. "Let us have it overboard
in time. You're always the boy for me
when there's work to be done."
"It's the Sabbath, sir," said Burtle, re-
"Well, boy, we know that! But this is
an extraordinary case. Come, be lively all
hands! The fish won't wait for dreamers!"
I go for keeping the boat's bargain,
anyhow!" said one of the men, dropping
the net which he was helping to lift over
the vessel's side. "My word is worth
more to me than the whole school of fish."
"And God's command is worth more
than either," whispered Burtie, as the man
came towards him.
A dispute immediately arose. The
energy of the crew was broken. Most of
them were glad to have the way opened to
avoid doing that which they felt to be
wrong. While they thus waited, the fish


moved on unmolested, and were soon out
of sight.
We should have made a full hundred
dI'lars apiece, but for you, boy," said the
captain to Burtie, as he came down into
i.e cabin. Boys that are wiser than the
master of the vessel they sail in had better
stay at home."
Burtie remained silent under this re-
buke. A consciousness that he had done
right took away its sting, and it fell harm-
less upon his ear.



ALL on board the fishing-vessel now
made up their minds for a Sabbath of rest.
Burtie turned over the contents of his


trunk, which had been carefully packed by
his parents. He was surprised to find a
very neat package at the bottom, marked
with his name. He opened it, and read
the following note with much interest:--

"Hearing that you are going
upon the ocean, and that you might be
gone during the Sabbath, I enclose some
Sabbath reading. The tracts you may
distribute among the crew, and the books
please accept for yourself as a token of my
"Your true friend,

The books were new Sunday-school
volumes, beautifully bound. Among the
tracts were the writings of Dr Edwards on
the Sabbath. The men, who were grow-
ing impatient from idleness, soon became


quite interested in reading. The stories
in the Sabbath tracts attracted the atten-
tion of all. Ti. -- brought instruction at
the right time. The sullen feeling of
those who were disappointed at the lost
chance to catch the provoking school of
fish wore off, and a cheerful feeling of
satisfaction prevailed. The men, when
tired of reading, began to talk about what
they had read. Burtie's new volumes had
not been neglected.
"Burtie," said a rough but honest-look-
ing sailor, do you have such books at the
Sunday-school? Come, tell us what you
do there, anyhow. I never was the person,
boy or man, to have such a chance for
learning. I wish I had. I might have
been a better man."
"There's need enough of that, John,"
said one of his companions, grod-naturedly.
"I wonder," said the first speaker,


whom they called John, "if Burtie learned
all his good notions at the Sunday-school?
He don't swear."
You should not, Mr Neal. It does
no good," said Burtie. Burtie did not
call Mr Neal "John," as the rest did,
although his name was John Neal. His
parents had taught him that such a way
of speaking to older persons by boys was
not respectful.
"Well, Burtie, I suppose it does no
good," said Mr Neal.
"It is very wicked," insisted Burtie.
"Oh, well, I suppose I shall have to
acknowledge that, too," said Mr Neal.
"But you don't use tobacco; you don't
call that wicked, I hope."
"Father says it's a very foolish and
filthy habit," said Burtie.
"Come now, Burtie, you are too strict
for a sailor," said Mr Neal. "Your nice

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