Christmas dream and other stories

Material Information

Christmas dream and other stories
Series Title:
Brightside series
Goodwin, M. M. B ( Marcia Melissa Bassett )
New York Bureau of Illustration
R.W. Carroll & Co ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
R.W. Carroll & Co.
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
96, 16 p., [2] leaves of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Dreams -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1871 ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1871 ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1871 ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1871
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) ( rbprov )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Ohio -- Cincinnati
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )


General Note:
Added engraved series t.p.
General Note:
Illustrations drawn and engraved by N.Y. Bureau of Illustration.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mrs. Goodwin and others.

Record Information

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:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections ( with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026790772 ( ALEPH )
ALH1009 ( NOTIS )
57510263 ( OCLC )

Full Text

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
Ia the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

1, N the Widow
r Stone's orchard
stood a large ap-
ple-tree, which
was loaded, very
A i full,with bright-
red apples.
Th e These apples,
S little Sammy
S Stone claimed
as his individual
-property, and so
it came to pass, that in speaking of them,


all the family called them "Sammy's red
When Sammy was but two years old,
he used to watch his sister Mollie as she
took her. little "work-pocket"-that was
what they were called, in those days, the
little silk, or calico bags, drawn together
with a string at the top, and used by old
ladies to carry their knitting work, and by
children instead of a dinner basket-well,
as I was saying, Sammy watched his sister
as she started for school, and when she
was entirely out of sight, he would run to
his- mother and say:
"Mamma, div Sammy dinner in wort
pottet-Sammy do to 'kool!" And so his
mother would fix a piece of bread and
butter, and as he insisted upon having it


in a "wort pottet," she made one on pur-
pose, and he would gravely put his fat
arm through the string, as he had seen
Mollie do, and then, going away by him-
self into the garden, or down the lane, he
Should eat his lunch, and return to the
house, entirely satisfied that he had been
to school.
Sammy was not quite four years old
when he began to go to school in good
earnest. He had donned his first suit of
boy's clothes, and very gravely informed
the family that he was a little e man," and
not a "dirl" any more; and a funny
little e man" he was, sure enough, so fat
and round that he looked like a black
worsted ball, set on small boots, with a
cap on.


Did you ever go to school in a red
school-house, and did you carry a pocket
full of red appik:s? This was what Sam-
my Stone did. andu for the first day he had
all he could do in looking around and
watching -the rest of the children, and
learning to keep quiet. The teacher gave
him a low seat in front, but every little
while he would get up, very deliberately,
and march, with his hands in his pockets,
up to the back seat where Mollie was sit-
ting, and the teacher had to go and make
him march back again; all of which, you
may be sure, afforded infinite amusement
to the scholars.
At length the teacher called him up to
learn his letters. In those days, charts
were an unheard-of thing; the scholar


was obliged to learn from the spelling-
book, or primer; and the primer from
which Sammy was expected to. learn his
letters had been sadly stained and de-
faced by some urchin, who had attempted
to color the various pictures with the juice
of the poke-berry.
"What's that," said the teacher, point-
ing to the. letter A.
"We's dot a white pig!" said Sammy,
looking up in her face, with such earnest
eyes, that she could not help smiling,
though she knew that, for the sake of dis-
cipline, she ought to keep sober.
"Yes, Sammy, I'll hear about the
white pig by and by, but it's the letter
A we want to talk about now.. Look
on the book, and tell me what the let-


ter A stands for-see the picture, what
is it?"
Wed apple," cried Sammy, hopping
up and down, and laughing; "I's dot lots
of wed apples, 'aint I, Mollie?" he cried
out in his loudest tones.
Mollie blushed, and shook her head for
him to be quiet, but he did not understand
it thus, and was very indignant at what
he thought her denial of his statement.
Finally the teacher quieted him, and,
pointing to the letter B, asked if he knew
what it was.
"Yes," said Master Sammy, with the
utmost importance, "Him is a ox-yoke."
This was too much for the gravity of
the .:,.:'..l, and there was a general burst
of laughter, very much to Sammy's sur-


prise, and, it must be confessed, to his
indignation also.
After quiet had been restored, Miss
Jones made another effort to teach him
the alphabet. Pointing to the letter 0,
she told him what. it was, and asked him
to repeat it after her, but he resolutely
shook his head, saying:
"That be a wheel, it goes buzz-z-z--
Mamma make it go"-and, imitating the
noise of a spinning-wheel, which he had
often watched his mother using, he again
set the school to laughing, and the teacher
concluded to let him take his seat.
Among the scholars that attended school
in the old red school-house was one Eli
Ross, a large boy, who was a perfect tor-
ment to all the younger children, especially


the girls. He would snatch their bonnets
and their books, and fling them over high
fences, or into the dusty road; put toads
in their dinner baskets and work-pockets;
caterpillars upon their necks, and angle-
worms in the water-pail.
One day, it seemed as though Eli was
more than usually mischievous and impu-
dent, and his pranks getting beyond all
bounds, the teacher called him to the floor
for punishment.
Sammy, who had never seen a person
whipped, watched the preparations with
wide-open mouth and eyes, but when the
blows descended he cried as hard as Eli
No sooner had the teacher sent Eli to
his seat, than Sammy, getting up and


marching straight across the room, stopped
in front of his desk and stood looking at
him intently for a full minute, without
uttering a word, then pulling a red apple
from his pocket he thrust it into his hand,
"You's sorry; you may have Sammy's
wed apple;" and rubbing his fat fists into
his tearful eyes, he returned to his seat.
Eli looked first at the apple and then
at Sammy, in perfect bewilderment. It
was the first act or word of sympathy
which he could ever remember having
received, and it took him completely by
Taken from the poor-house, by Dan
Long, the shoemaker, a hard-hearted and
intemperate man, poor Eli had endured


all the sufferings incident to the life of a
bound-boy. Driven, abused, overworked,
illy-clad, and half-starved, he had grown
up sullen, morose, and ill-tempered, and
he had acquired, as he had fully earned,
the reputation of being the worst boy in
the neighborhood.
He was feared by his school-mates, and
disliked by his teachers, and almost hated
by Dan Long and his wife, who had taken
him for the purpose of making him a
People took it for granted that he was
totally depraved, and never made an effort
to find the few grains of good which, under
all the badness, still lay in the depths of
his heart.
Eli did not eat the apple that Sammy


gave him, but quietly put it in his pocket,
while his eyes constantly sought Sammy's
face, where the traces of tears still lingered.
The afternoon passed away without any
further disturbance. Never before had Eli
behaved so well, or given so little trouble
in the same length of time. His strange
looks at Sammy set the teacher to won-
dering whether kindness might not have
more weight with the boy than so much
corporal punishment, and she resolved to
test the matter.
After school was dismissed, Eli waited
at the door until Sammy came out, when,
catching the child up, he placed him astride
his shoulders, and started off. Mollie gave
a scream, at first, fearing that her brother
would get hurt; but Sammy was in great


glee, and clasping his arms tightly around
Eli's neck, enjoyed his ride famously; and
the faster Eli ran, the louder laughed the
fearless little fellow, until he was set down
at his own gate.
Mrs. Stone was in the yard, and when
she thanked Eli for bringing home her
boy, he seemed utterly bewildered at her
words of commendation, and turned away
with new and strange feelings struggling
in his heart.
As he neared his own home he heard
sounds of commotion, which convinced
him that the shoemaker and his wife were
having a family quarrel, and, well know-
ing, from past experience, that they would
leave off abusing each other and turn the
vials of wrath upon his head, he resolved


to keep out of the way until the tempest
was past. Turning back, he went down
the street toward the rivet bridge, where
a few scattered houses, of the very poorest
quality, sheltered such people as could not
afford more comfortable dwellings.
As he walked quietly along, perplexed
at the unwonted emotions which the events
of the day had called into being, the dwell-
ers in these hovels stared at him in
perfect amazement. He wasn't fliingi
stones at the pigs, chasing the cats or
children, nor tying tin-cups to the tails of
luckless dogs. What did it mean? One
woman, more bold than the rest, ventured
to ask if any body was "dead" at his
house, thinking that nothing but the death
of the shoemaker, or his wife, could account


for such quiet behavior in the hitherto
reckless boy.
The children of the neighborhood, when
they saw him coming, had dodged round
corners and behind doors, and now, as he
passed by without any demonstrations of
attack, they emerged from their hiding-
places and stared after him in mute sur-
prise, with dilated eyes and open mouths.
One little girl, a helpless cripple, who
could not get out of his way, and who had
often been the subject of his taunts and
jeers, turned pale, as he paused beside the
rough-wheeled cart wherein she lay. For
a full minute Eli stood looking down upon
her, then taking the red apple from his
pocket he placed it in her hand, and turn-
ing away, without a word, was out of sight


before Alice had recovered from her as-
Did you ever do an unselfish act, dear
little reader? If you never have, go at
once and try what the effect will be upon
your own heart, and then you will under-
stand what Eli's feelings were as he re-
traced his steps toward home.
When he reached the shoemaker's he
found the supper of mush and molasses
upon the table, and, with a growl, the
man bade him "come along," and the
woman handed him a plate, upon which
the molasses bore a very slight proportion
to the mush. Eli hated mush and mo-
lasses, and Mr. Long and his wife both
knew it; and when he took the plate and
eat its contents without a word of com-


ment, they gazed at him with looks ex-
pressive of unbounded astonishment.
Eli was, in fact, so busy with the
thoughts which the day's experience had
called forth, that he took little heed of the
supper; generally he was so hungry that
he found it hard to get sufficient food to
satisfy the cravings of nature; but to-
night every other feeling was swallowed
up in, the newly-awakened emotions of
gratitude and self-sacrifice.
Alice, to whom Eli had given the apple,
had been a cripple since her birth, and she
was, at times, a great sufferer; but, in
spite of this, her mother had to leave her
alone while she went out washing day af-
ter day to procure the means wherewith
to pay for rent, food, and clothing. Often


they suffered for the very necessaries of
life, while its luxuries were, to them, un-
known. Knowing this, you can, perhaps,
understand that, to Alice, the gift of an
apple was a matter of great moment, and
so she kept it and showed it to her moth-
er, with many words of surprised re-
To a child whose life had been so
warped as had Eli's, reformation is not
an easy matter, nor does it take place in
a moment; so you will not be surprised
to learn that by the next morning the old
evil spirit seemed to have returned with
tenfold violence, and he was even more
mischievous than usual. The teacher, see-
ing this, feared she should have to fall
back upon the birchen rod, but, deter-


mined to give her new resolutions a fair
trial, she called him to the desk, and, keep-
ing him while the children had recess, she
endeavored to awaken his better feelings,
and closed her advice by saying that she
believed if he would endeavor to over-
come his recklessness he might become one
of the best boys and finest scholars in the
Well, what if I did? said Eli, there's
nobody to care!" and bitter tears ran down
his cheeks.
Before the teacher could reply, Sammy,
who, unnoticed, had entered the room,
came to Eli's side, and catching hold of
his hand, said, with quivering lips, "Boy,
what you tyin for; I does love you, big as
a bushel!" Sammy evidently considered


that amount of love sufficient to satisfy
any reasonable person, and he couldn't
quite understand why Eli cried harder
than before.
The teacher laid her hand on the boy's
bowed head, and, in low, earnest tones,
assured him that Sammy was not the only
one who would love him a "bushel" if he
would but give them a chance. "Remem-
ber, Eli," she added, "that people make
friends or enemies by their own conduct.
Gold can not buy true friends, nor can
poverty drive them away."
That night, when school was out, Sam-
my was ready for another ride, and no
king ever felt prouder, seated upon a war-
charger, than did he, perched upon Eli's
broad shoulders.


Mrs. Stone urged him to enter the house,
and while Sammy filled his pockets with
apples, and showed him his Maltese kitten
and dancing-jack, she, by a few adroit
questions, found out that one great cause
of discouragement was the want of proper
books; and when he arose to go she handed
him a new slate and arithmetic, and also a
reader and definition-book, at the same
time extracting a promise that he would
go with Sammy to Sunday-school on the
next Lord's-day.
He looked at his clothes as he gave the
promise, and Mrs. Stone did not much
wonder at his hesitation, for patches of va-
rious hues and sizes disputed ground with
sundry unmended rents, but she merely
said, "Never mind the clothes, go to Sun-


day-school any way, for God judges by
the heart, and not by outward apparel."
As Eli felt the apples in his pocket, a
desire to divide them witlf lame Alice
crept into his heart, and so he went round
by the washer-woman's cottage. Alice was
lying in her little cart, by the gate, watch-
ing the passers-by. Eli did not pause, but
dropping several apples into the cart, he
hurried away without waiting for her
thanks, while she gazed after him with
looks of delighted surprise.
The next Lord's-day Eli presented him-
self, according to promise, at the house of
Mrs. Stone, and accompanied the children
to Sunday-school. His appearance there
created some surprise, but no offensive
comments were made concerning his dress,


and he soon forgot every thing else, in his
interest in the Bible-lesson; and having a
natural talent for music, he was at once
able to join in the singing.
Days and weeks rolled on, but brought
no events to any of our young friends
worth recording. The leaves faded at last,
the bird-songs were hushed in the forest,
and Winter, Monarch of the North, har-
nessed the winds to his cloud-chariot, and
gathering his ermine mantle around him,
swept toward the tropics, and breathing
upon the landscape, in a single night, he
turned the shrubs to marble monuments,
and builded a bridge of purest crystal over
roaring rivers and tiny rivulets, thus mak-
ing a safe passage for St. Nicholas, with
his load of Christmas-gifts.


Merry Christmas! how children's hearts
bound at the thought! Stillthere are those

_.-- 1. A

,,, 5 _-7-~- :,-- ', _-_ -.

to whom its coming can hardly bring
joy-those whom poverty's chill breath
debars from all participation in its festivi-
ties. To this class belonged the washer-
woman and her child. In their dreary
cottage there was no preparations for a
festival. Christmas had no meaning for


them, save that it ushered in long, dreary
months of cold and storms, for which their
scanty supply of clothing and fuel found
them but illy prepared.
"Mamma," said Alice, who had been
steadily gazing at the burning embers for
a long time in perfect silence, "Mamma,
why do n't we have Christmas? Does
God love us? Maria Munsell was here
to-day, and told me all about her tree;
and Mollie Stone and Sammy are going to
have one too-why do n't we have one?"
"We are too poor, my child-Christ-
mas is for the rich."
"But why aint we rich? Mamma, you
said I must go to Jesus with all my pains
and trouble; I think if he knew how I
wanted a Christmas-tree he would send it


to me!" and, clasping her hands tightly,
Alice softly prayed: "0, dear, blessed
Savior, please send mamma and me a
Christmas, 'cause we're too poor to buy
one of ourselves!" Then, with a smile of
perfect trust, Alice closed her eyes, and
was soon dreaming of the morrow.
Long did that patient mother gaze at
her child, striving to devise some way to
procure for her a Christmas-gift, but no
practical plan presented itself, and she
sighed, for her faith not being as strong as
the little one's, she dreaded the disappoint-
ment which she thought the morrow must
surely bring.
While Alice was talking, the door had
been softly opened, and two brown eyes
had looked into the room, but neither the


mother nor child had noticed the circum-
stance; and just as Alice's little prayer
was ended the door was stealthily closed,
and the brown eyes disappeared.
Eli-for it was he-walked slowly down
the street. He did not enter the shoe-
maker's house, but passed on until he
reached Mrs. Stone's. Sammy was at the
window, and when he saw him he jumped
down, and, opening the door, called to him
to "tumr in and see the trismas-tree."
Taking a seat near the fire, he placed
Sammy on his lap, and then turning to
Mrs. Stone told her all about Lame Alice
and her evening prayer.
Sammy listened, and his loving, gener-
ous heart was touched at once; so, clamb-
ering down, he ran to the fire-place and


picked out all his apples, (and, as he
claimed all the red ones, there was quite
a quantity,) and piled them in Eli's hat,
while his mother looked smilingly on,
glad to see these evidences of generosity
on the part of her boy.
Mollie, who- had also listened to the
story with deep attention, slipped from the
room, and soon returned with her arms
full of books and toys. A whole box of
paper dolls and their wardrobes, the pret-
tiest little music-box, and numberless oth-
er toys, which she prized highly, showed
how earnest her feelings were.
It was decided that Alice should have
a Christmas-tree, and Mrs. Stone sent the
hired man with the evergreen; then pack-
ing a quantity of apples, cakes, pop-corn,


and candy in a basket, with Mollie's gifts,
she handed it to Eli. Then turning to
Sammy, she asked him if he could not
spare his Maltese kitten to the lame girl
who had so few sources of happiness.
"Will Malta make trismas?" he asked,
hesitating; for the Maltese kitten was the
most precious of all his pets.
"It would help," answered his mother,
who knew that, hid away in the barn,
puss had five more little "maltas," just
big enough to begin to play-a fact which
she had been keeping for some time as a
Christmas-surprise, and so she encouraged
Sammy to give away his Malta, which he
finally consented to do.
Together Mrs. Stone and Eli wended
their way to the cottage of the washer-


woman, who was both surprised and de-
lighted. Fixing the Christmas-tree where
Alice would see it upon awakening, they
loaded it with toys, put the little wicker-
basket, containing Malta," at the foot of
the bed, and, as the clock had struck nine,
bade the washer-woman good-night, and
hastened home.
When Santa Claus went his rounds,
you may be sure that Mollie and Sammy
were not forgotten; but the snow lay so
deep on the house-tops, and the wind
roared so loud in the chimney, that they
did not hear the tread of the reindeer-
hoofs or the jingling of the Christmas-
When the children awoke in the early
morning, it was evident that some gener-


ous hand had been busy in their behalf.
Such wonderful regiments of soldiers, such
puzzles, and tops; such large balls, and
bright skates as Sammy found in his
stocking, are seldom seen; and I do n't
know as he would have stopped admiring
them until this time if he had not caught
sight of the five .Malta kitts, curled down,
fast asleep, in a bed of soft, white cotton.
How bright their eyes were when they
opened them, and how cunningly they
chased each other around, falling and roll-
ing over like animated pin-cushions! It
took more arithmetic than Sammy was
master of to tell in what ratio his gift
to Alice had been multiplied to him.
Mollie found that, in addition to the
beautiful books and toys which rendered


her stocking so plethoric, there was an
elegant piano in the parlor, and beside it
stood the Christmas-tree, covered with
pretty things too numerous to mention.
Happy as were these favored children,
their delight was nothing in comparison
with that of Alice, who, when her eye
fell upon the Christmas-tree at the foot of
the bed, clasped her hands in an ecstasy
of rapture, repeating again and again,
"He heard me! He sent me a Christmas!"
never for a moment doubting that it was
the answer to her prayer-which indeed
it was, though God had, in this instance,
as he often does, used mortals as instru-
ments to do his will.
The Maltese kitten, hearing Alice's voice,
stretched herself, opened her eyes, and be-


gan to pur softly, which at once attracted
the child's attention, and, clasping the
little thing in her arms, she cried for very
joy. Dear as were all other gifts, the kit-
ten was dearer than all.
The washer-woman found, upon opening
her door in the morning, that she, too, had
been remembered, for a pile of wood, a
barrel of flour, a fat turkey, and several
bushels of apples had taken possession of
the front yard and door-step.
Eli, too, had been remembered in an
equally generous manner, and, when he
opened his eyes in the morning, they
rested upon a nice new trunk, with his
name, in gilt, upon the lid. On opening
it he found two suits of clothes, one for
school, and the other for Sunday; a nice


Bible and hymn-book, a new cap, boots,
mittens, socks, and a "comforter;" some
handkerchiefs, towels, combs, and brushes,
comprised the useful articles; and among
the many little keepsakes there was one,
a picture of himself, with Sammy on his
shoulders. The likeness of both was per-
fect, and tears fell fast from his eyes as he
gazed upon the picture. A few months
had made a wonderful change in his feel-
ings and surroundings. Then, he was
friendless and unloved, while these pre-
cious gifts proved that he had now found
true and lasting friends. From being one
of the worst he had now become one of the
best boys in the place. Such is the won-
derful alchemy of love.
The change in Eli, being so great, had


its effect upon the shoemaker and his wife.
First, they gave up drinking beer, and
soon all quarreling ceased; and before an-
other Christmas they had learned to love
and obey the Savior.
Little Alice, too frail for earth, slowly
faded away. Just before she died, her
mother bent over her and asked if she was
"O, no, mamma, I'm not afraid-Jesus
gave me one Christmas, you know, and it
made me so happy. In Heaven it is al-
ways Christmas;" and, with a smile of
faith, she closed her eyes, and the angels
took her.
Eli Ross is now an aged man, and
through his efforts many have learned the
way of life more perfectly. But he has


never forgotten the trials of his youth;
and to Sammy's gift of the red apple and
expressions of love, and the faith of Alice,
he attributes his first impulsive longings
for that purer life upon which he entered
by OBEDIENCE, and through which he
hopes to reach that glorious home, prom-
ised to the faithful, and greet Sammy and
Alice, with all the redeemed, on the shin-
ing shores of the River of Life.


ilk jlrinnt' d 4ihma flrean.

I ;-' T was the night
'' before Christ-
i'-r. A, ; ,': mas. Mr. Al-
Si l '' 'len's toy-store
'~ ad been crowd-
t 'i ed all day, but at
:' 1 .i -i i ; .l r *;:; -- '-! ,
S-I,' length the last
purchaser had
S-, departed, and
.' l" the weary mer-
I'. .-. :-:... .chant seated
J himself by the
stove to await the return of his errand-


boy, before closing the store for the
He rested his head upon the counter,
and presently the store seemed filled with
the buzz of many voices; but when he
would have arisen to wait upon the new-
comers he became spell-bound, as he saw
that it was the various toys which had
suddenly become endowed with life, and
were holding an animated conversation.
The first words which he distinctly
heard, came from the depths of a "Noah's
Ark," which was standing close to his
elbow upon the counter.
0 dear !" said little Mrs. Noah, as she
tried to peer ever a great polar bear which
hid Mr. Noah completely from her view.
"0, husband, I was so in hopes that sweet


blue-eyed girl would take us away from
this stifling atmosphere. Did you notice
how nicely she arranged the ark, putting
all the animals in first, then the birds,
and, last of all, standing us upon our feet,
close by the door, where we could, at least,
get a breath of air, and have a chance to
look out occasionally upon the world
"Yes," said Mr. Noah, half out of
breath from being crushed in between the
zebra and rhinoceros, "I noticed her blue
eyes and careful hand, but I also noticed
her thin chintz dress, and I heard her
sigh as the clerk told her the price of the
ark, and she whispered to her little brother
that she had not money enough, and I
saw, too, the tears in her brother's eyes;


but just then that rude girl, with a pink
hat and velvet cloak, came along, and such
a fluster as she put me in; why, I came
very near being trampled upon by the
elephant, and I really thought, at one
time, that the lion would make a meal
of you."
Here, although Mr. and Mrs. Noah
were still bewailing their sad fate, the
merchant's attention was called to a large
gray cat on the shelf just over his head.
"Mew, mew!" said puss, turning to a
shaggy dog by her side. "How do you
feel, Mr. Rover, after such a terrible day?
As for me," she continued, without wait-
ing for Rover to reply-" as for me, I am
nearly worn out, and my throat is so sore
I fear I shall die. See what I have been


doing all day;" and here puss opened her
mouth, and, like a flash, a little mouse
went down her throat. Rover laughed,
while puss exclaimed, indignantly, "This
way of eating mice is far from pleasant,
I assure you, and I did hope that Santa
Claus would take me in his pack and carry
me to the home of little Hans-little Hans
who used to live in Germany, in the same
parish were I was born. I know he would
shout for joy to see even a cat from fa-
"Bow, wow, wow!" said Rover; "why
Tabby, you've forgotten all about your
sore throat, or the question you asked, and
your story is as long as the river Rhine,
upon whose banks you were born. It's
hardly polite to ask a question, and then


talk so fast that you give a person no
chance to reply. However, I do n't mind
telling you that I do think this has been a
very trying day. You must know that I
am from France, and that I attended the
'great Exposition,' and was very much
admired for my bark-just hear me now-
bow, wow, wow! Did you ever hear such
a voice as that? Why, all Paris was de-
lighted; but I have not received a word
of praise to-day, except from a poor little
newsboy, who cried because he had not
money enough to purchase me for his
little sick brother at home."
"Did you say that you were both from
over the sea?" whispered a delicate little
music-box, with a voice like a humming-
bird. "Well, I am from Venice-beau-


tifiil Venice!-and I know a dark-eyed
Italian boy, lying upon straw in a gloomy
garret, and oh, how I long, on this Christ-
mas-eve, to go to him and cheer his heart
with the melodies of his native land!"
"Ah," sighed Miss Waxdoll, who had
been silently listening to the conversation
of her companions, "you have your trials,
but my disappointment is greater than all.
Every day since I was placed in the win-
dow a sweet, young girl has paused, morn-
ing and evening, to smile upon me and
praise my beauty. Although she is only a
music teacher, I have learned to love her,
and she has been saving money to pur-
chase me for a Christmas present for her
little lame sister, who is so lonely when
Jennie is away attending to her pupils.


To-day she came here with the money in
her pocket, but some wicked person in the
crowd succeeded in stealing her purse, and
I am left at the mercy of strangers, in-
stead of being, as I had hoped, the joy and
pride of that dear, helpless child."
Just as the doll finished her story, a
great stamping was heard outside, and
Sambo, the "plantation dancer," who had
done nothing all day but "touch the heel
and touch the toe" for the amusement of
the children in search of Christmas-gifts,
called out:
"Look h-e-a, just keep quiet, you white
folks, dar. Ole St. Nick's coming' for
anoder load, sure; I hears the reindeer-
hoofs--ha! ha!" and Sambo took the
double-shuffle, to the tune of Jim Crow.


Instead of St. Nick, however, it proved
to be only the errand-boy, who paused,
very much surprised to find the merchant
fast asleep in his chair, and the fire burned
out, and the room cold. He was still
more surprised when, upon touching Mr.
Allen upon the shoulder, he started up, ex-
claiming, "O dear! is it you? I thought
it was Santa Claus come to take those
children their presents." Seeing the sur-
prise depicted upon the boy's face, and
comprehending the ludicrousness of such a
speech from a sedate, middle-aged bach-
elor like himself, who had neither wife nor
child to make glad by a Christmas gift, he
laughed, and added, "I think I must have
been dreaming. You may turn off the
gas, and close up the store;" and with


these directions he slowly wended his way
homeward. '
Once there, and seated before the glow-
ing anthracite, he fell to musing upon the
strange scene, which had left a sad im-
pression upon his mind. "If I had only
finished the dream, and had seen St. Nick
carry those things off," he soliloquized;
"I believe I shall have to turn Santa
Claus;" and no sooner had the thought
entered his mind than all sadness and
perplexity vanished. "The very thing,"
he continued, talking and nodding to
the coal in the grate, which blazed, and
sparkled, and snapped, as though trying
to express approbation of the scheme.

"Merry Christmas! merry Christmas!"


shouted happy children, as they thronged
the streets; and the bells chimed forth
their gayest notes, and the sun looked
down as though bent upon turning every
snow-star into a diamond fit for an em-
peror's crown.
"I'll try and make this a merry Christ-
mas' to those poor little children of whom
I dreamed," said Mr. Allen, as he pur-
chased an evergreen and ordered it sent
home. Then pushing on, he entered the
store and gathered together a basket of
the most tempting of children's toys, not
forgetting those which had played so con-
spicuous a part in his dream of the night
Next, he bade the housekeeper prepare
for unexpected guests, while he procured


a pair of fleet horses and a warm, fur-
lined sleigh, and went in search of the
children he hoped to make happy by this
unlooked-for Christmas party.
Perhaps you are ready to ask how the
merchant expected to find these particular
children, in a city so crowded with poor
little boys and girls.
When he came to think about his dream,
strange to say, he knew them all. The
little blue-eyed girl, to whom Noah's wife
took such a fancy, for her gentleness, was
the orphan daughter of a soldier, who had
once been his clerk, but died for his coun-
try, in the late war. Hans, the Ger-
man boy, had often run errands when his
clerks were busy; and the newsboy was
faithful Henry Martin, who almost wholly


supported a widowed mother and an in-
valid brother. The Italian boy was one
of those natural musicians who seem born
to live beneath sunny skies, and whose
souls are chilled by our cold clime. Jenny
he remembered as a lovely girl, once the
pet and pride of society, who, by the death
of her father, had been left to a life of toil
and poverty.
If I thought you cared to hear it, I
might tell you that Jenny made such
beautiful music upon Mr. Allen's grand
piano that he prevailed upon her to give
up teaching, and become the life and light
of his lonely home, but I am sure you
would much rather hear how the children
enjoyed their Christmas dinner, than any
wedding in the world.


You may rest assured that they thought
the turkey the largest, and the plum-
pudding the best that had ever been
After dinner the parlors were opened,
and there stood a Christmas-tree, resplen-
dent with gifts for one and all. The Ital-
ian boy forgot to be home-sick as he list-
ened to the music-box playing his own
native airs; and when he learned that he
was to fit himself for a teacher of music,
and that his home was to be with a great
professor from Italy, his joy was almost
beyond bounds. The little newsboy re-
ceived the shaggy dog, and, no doubt,
Rover was satisfied, for he was never heard
to mention the Paris Exposition, and the
little invalid brother thinks his bark far


sweeter than music. Since puss was placed
in the hands of the German boy, she has
never once complained of sore throat, al-
though his little sister keeps her swallow-
ing mice many hours a day. Even Mrs.
Noah seems content, for blue-eyed Mamie
Dale always sets her on her feet close by
Noah, and so near the door of the ark
that she can see and hear all that is going
on around her.
Need I add, that since Christmas-eve,
the toys in the merchant's store have been
as quiet and well-behaved as any toys in
the city, and that happy homes have been
provided for all these children?
Jenny's little lame sister has learned to
love Mr. Allen, and will leave her doll,
any time, to listen to the story of his


Christmas dream, from which so much
happiness has resulted; but their "talk"
always ends in Nettie's saying:
"But then, you know, you got my sis-
ter Jenny for your Christmas present, and
I'm sure that's the best of all;" and as
the ex-bachelor does not contradict the
child's assertion, we may well suppose that
he, too, thinks his present the best, and
his dream the most fortunate that the
patron saint of merry Christmas ever
whispered in mortal ears.
But this is not the end, for, though
happy and blessed in his home, Mr. Allen
never fails to have a huge Christmas-tree,
and invite large numbers of the poor and
needy to enjoy the dinner which precedes
the distribution of the presents; and,


happy himself in making others happy,
his days are gliding peacefully by.
Over his desk at the counting-room is
a frame inclosing the golden motto, "It is
more blessed to give than to receive."
Mr. Allen has proved its truth. Reader,
will you not "go and do likewise?"

tilr' ( Shmun Uamn.

YAMMA, I had such a beautiful dream,
And Willie's breath came quick-
I dreamed that Christmas-eve was here,
SAnd with it old Saint Nick-
S Just as I read in my picture book,
With his sleigh and his twelve rein-
And his funny pipe and well-filled pack,
And his face so round and queer.
And, O, Mamma, I saw him come
Adown the chimney there-
Light his pipe with a spark from the hearth,
And lay his cap in the chair;
And out of his pack, all running o'er,
There dropped such wonderful books,
And dolls, and dishes, and toys for me;
And he smiled with comical looks,
As he said, 'for Willie I'll leave them there,
He's fast asleep as I see'-
But, Mamma, I was n't fast asleep-
I only pretended to be.
I know, Mamma, it was all a dream,
But the beautiful presents are here;
And I've you to thank for them all, I see,
Instead of Saint Nick and his deer."


"If Willie wishes to help Mamma,
We '11 dub him Kris Krinkle to-day,
And send him with generous Christmas gifts
To the poor across the way,"
Said Willie's mother, while gathering up
Warm clothing, and food, and toys,
For the drunkard's wife in her lowly home
With her worse than orphaned boys.
"Open the door for old Saint Nick I
He is coming," sweet Willie cries;
Then they opened the door, and joyous tears
Fell fast from that mother's eyes.
Ah old Saint Nick a wondrous saint
May be, for aught I know;
But I'd rather be the little boy
That trampled down the snow,
To carry a Christmas-gift to those
Poor children, and mother lone,
Than to have the name of a martyred saint,
Or sit a king on a throne;
For lo I there cometh a night of death,
And a resurrection day;
And he who judges the nations then,
Shall unto the risen say:
S"Whatever was done to the least of these
The same was done unto me;
Let the evil go into darksome night-
The good shall my glory see."

S' ,INSIDE that rich
oold mansion was a
merry scene. In the
*i, j S- warm, bright parlor, the
t:amily had gathered, to
',-,- enjoy the Christmas holi-
d -lay. At the further side,
._-,- reaching from floor to
( t/.f ceiling, stood the Christ-
mas-tree, covered with
gifts, and brilliant in the light of its
many-colored waxen tapers. The voices


of the children made joyous music, sweeter
far than the sound of the lute, or the clear
tinkling brooklet playing over its pebbly
Grandpa Warren, dressed like a veri-
table St. Nicholas, with long white beard
and flowing robes, distributed the gifts.
Little Minnie ran, delighted to show
grandma her dancing doll, and Harry
wound up his engine, and sent it whizzing,
at railroad speed, over the carpet; but, as
engines sometimes do, it met with an "ac-
cident," which threw it off the track.. The
"accident" in this case was puss, asleep on
the rug, before the grate. When the mimic
monster came rushing upon her, breaking
her dreams, though happily not her bones,
she sprang to her feet, and arched her back


with such a ludicrous display of fear, as-
tonishment, and wrath, as to cause a shout
of merriment' from all, even old St. Nick
himself joining in the fun.
Very different was the scene outside this
fairy-like room. The wind howled, and
the snow fell. Men, muffled in warm furs,
hurried homeward. But one little figure
wandered on, seemingly unmindful of the
tempestuous wind or falling snow. A torn
hood, from which a few stray curls escaped,
a thin dress, and a well-worn shawl, could
not protect the child from the bitter, biting
.But why was she abroad in the storm?
Alas! she was one of those homeless or-
phans who wander up and down the earth,
"seeking rest, but finding none."


Suddenly she paused before Judge War-
ren's mansion. The curtains had not fal-
len entirely across the window, and, stand-
ing there in the stormy night, the child
looked upon the happy group around the
Christmas-tree. As she gazed, an almost
irresistible impulse seized her, and she
placed her hand upon the bell; but she
drew it quickly back, as she remembered
how harshly the servants had spoken
whenever she had ventured to ask for
food that day.
But as she stood there, drawing herself
up into the niche formed by the door-
casing, to keep her shivering form from
the blast, the footman opened the door
and walked down to the gate with a friend,
leaving the door ajar. She glided into


the hall, and no one saw her, until Judge
Warren, looking up from his play with
the children, beheld her, standing on the
threshold, gazing around her like one in
a dream. For a moment he was silent,
from surprise; then an impulse to send
her away rushed over him, but a voice-
was it an angel's ?-whispered, "She is
one of Christ's poor; accept her as your
Christmas gift."
To Mabel it did, indeed, seem like a
fairy vision. But hungry, tired, and cold,
the heat was too much for her, and she
fainted, and would have fallen, but for
Judge Warren's strong arms, which caught
and carried her to the sofa; and while he
stroked her cold hands, and bathed her
pale face, the children looked on, forget-


ting, for the time, their Christmas toys.
At last her lips moved, and they heard
her whisper, "I dreamed I was in
It was not Heaven, but henceforth,
that next best thing, home, to Mabel; for
the children, won by the sweet face and
pleading eyes, begged to have her for a
Later in the evening, refreshed by food,
and neatly clad in some of Minnie's warm,
bright garments, she was the center of an
eager group, to whom she related the sad
story of her soldier-father's death upon
the battle-field, and a broken-hearted
mother, who was sleeping under the snow.
"She said she would come back for me,
and I was waiting for her out in the


street!" and she looked toward the door
as though she ought, perhaps, to still
remain out in the storm, watching for her
Tears were in the eyes of all the list-
eners, and the hearts of the children
throbbed in sympathy. Suddenly Min-
nie, in all the innocency of childhood,-ex-
claimed, "Let's give Mabel our Christ-
mas tree!" And, with one accord, the
children placed many of their gifts upon
its branches, and, leading her up to the
tree, said, "Santa Claus, this is our new
Christmas-sister, and this is her very own
When the angels went to Heaven that
night, they bore a sweet story of a little


lamb, rescued from death, and of unnum-
bered blessings yet to fall, like ripened
fruit, from the branches of little Mabel's
first Christmas-tree.

o- t- -

d S)
4.~ i i


^ c-, -

.-i^ DWARD, my son!"
But the boy did not
I h. .ear the voice of his
I -,-,, :. mother. He was seat-
Sed near a window en-
gaged in reading, and
was so deeply inter-
ested in his book that the sound passed
by his ear unnoticed.
"Edward!" called the mother in a
louder tone. This time the boy looked
up and said, "Did you call me, mother ?"
5A (67)


"I did, my son," was the mother's
answer. Then, after a moment's pause,
she said, "Are you very much interested
in your book, Edward?"
"Oh yes, mother, very much indeed.
I am reading such a beautiful story."
"Have you almost finished it?"
"No, mother. It is a long one, and it
will take a good while yet."
"Then I shall have to ask you to lay
your book aside for a time, and do some-
thing for me."
"But won't it do as well another time,
mother? You don't know how much I
want to finish my story, and I am just
now in the prettiest part of it."
"Not so well, Edward. What I wish
you to do can not be put off longer.


Do you remember the woman who called
here yesterday, with the poor little babe
in her arms, and who then told me she
had at home a little boy ten years old,
who had been a cripple for a long time,
and was not able to help himself?"
"Oh yes; and I felt so sorry for the
poor little boy."
"I am glad to hear you say that you
felt sorry for him, Edward. Now I want
you to go to the woman's house. Do
you remember the direction she gave?"
"I wish you, then, to go and see if
she has such a little boy; for you know
that sometimes persons who go about
asking for help are idle, and tell things
that are not true, in order to get money;


and if she has such a child, to see if he
can read, what kind of a boy he is, and
all about him."
"But indeed, mother, I should n't like
to go."
Why not, my son?"
"Because I should n't like to."
"That is no reason at all, Edward."
"It would make me feel unhappy,
mother, to see such poor kind of people
as she says they are."
"Suppose you were crossing the street,
and a carriage were to run over you, and
break both your legs; and suppose no one
would come near to lift you up tenderly,
to carry you home, because it would make
them feel so unhappy to witness your suf-
fering, would they be acting right?"


"Oh no, mother, of course not. But
this little boy you speak of is not left all
alone; his mother is with him, and does
every thing for him in her power."
Suppose, then, that some persons had
picked you up and brought you home to
your parents, suffering great pain; and
suppose your father had gone to the doc-
tor, and asked him to come quickly and
do something for you; and suppose the
doctor had said, 'Indeed, sir, I can not
go; it always makes me so unhappy when
I witness suffering in my fellow-crea-
tures;' what would you think of him?"
"But I am not a doctor, mother; I
can't do any thing for the crippled boy."
"Are you sure that you can not do
any thing for him?"


"What can I do, mother?"
"I can not now answer the question;
but after you have seen him, and told
me all about him, then I think I shall
be able to tell you a good many things
that you can do to make his hard lot a
more pleasant one. So get your hat and
take the basket which Susan will give
you, in which are bread and meat, with
a little tea and sugar, down to the poor
woman's house. Learn as much about
her and her family as you can, and then
come back and tell me all you see and
As Edward saw that his mother was
in earnest, and he knew that she never
allowed herself to be disobeyed by any
of her children, he said no more, but


got his hat, and, taking the basket on his
arm, went off to do his errand, though
with feelings of reluctance, and thoughts
of his unfinished story. He was gone
for more than an hour. On his return
he gave the following history of his visit,
with a glowing cheek, sparkling eye, and
a voice full of interest and feeling:
"Oh, mother, I am glad I went to the
poor woman's house," he began, "for she
seemed so pleased when I went in and
gave her the basket of things you sent.'"
"Did you see her little crippled boy ?"
asked Edward's mother.
"Oh, yes! I saw him almost the first
thing after I went in. He was sitting
on some pieces of carpet, close by the
hearth, with his legs all drawn up under


him, and looked so pale, and thin, and
sorrowful, that I had to turn my head
away at first. But whenever I looked at
him I found his large bright eyes fixed
upon me with such an earnest look
that I couldn't help going up to him at
last, and speaking to him. Can you
read?' I asked him; and he said 'Yes,' in
a squeaking voice, that sounded strange;
but then he smiled, and his smile was a
very pleasant one. 'Have you any
books?' I continued. 'Only an old
spelling-book, that I have read through
and through, again and again, and half
an old Robinson Crusoe,' he replied.
And then he looked sadder than at first.
'Would you like to have a good many
pretty books to read?' I asked. 'Oh,


yes! I should be happier than any body
in the world if I only had as many books
as I could read.' 'Then I will lend you
all of my books, and I have a great
many, for my father is all the time buy-
ing me books,' I said. I can not tell
you, mother, how glad the poor little boy
was. He clapped his hands together,
called me good, and said that now he
should be so happy all day. And his
mother was glad too; so glad that she
could not help crying."
"Did they seem very poor, Edward?"
"Oh, yes, mother. They live in one
room in a little bit of a house; and
there is nothing in it, hardly, but one or
two old chairs, a broken table, and a bed
made up on the floor in one corner."


"How many children were there in
the room?"
"Only the baby the woman had here
and the crippled boy."
"You are not sorry now that you de-
nied yourself the pleasure of reading
your story, that you might go and see
about this poor boy and his mother ?"
"Oh, no," replied Edward. "I am so
glad that I went."
"Why are you glad, my son ?"
"Because I shall now be able to make
the crippled boy happy by lending him
some of my books."
"And this thought gives you de-
"Oh, yes; but not half the delight
I shall feel when I take him some


books, which I want you to let me do
right away."
Before you finish your story ?"
"Yes indeed! I don't care about my
story now; I want to take the poor crip-
pled boy my Robinson Crusoe. He's
only had about half of it, beginning in
the middle, with the last part of the book
torn out. And I want to take him two
or three of my Rollo and Lucy books.
Sha'n't I do it, mother?"
"Certainly, my child, only you must
tell the. little boy that you merely lend
them to him, and that he must take good
care of them."
"Oh, he'll do that, I know! You
ought to have seen how smooth and clean


the leaves of his old Robinson Crusoe
And so saying, Edward went and took
down from a shelf the books he had
named, placed them under his arm, and
hurried off with them to the house of the
crippled boy. When he returned, his
mother called him to her side and said:
"You seem very happy, my dear boy."
Oh, yes, mother. And you would
have felt happy too if you had seen the
little boy when I handed him the books."
Why do you feel happy, Edward?"
"I feel happy, I suppose, because I
have made that poor boy happy."
"That is, you feel the delight which
always accompanies the performance of
some good to others, and this is the high-


est delight our minds are capable of en-
joying, if done from an internal princi-
ple of love. No selfish pleasure is at all
to be compared with that of making
others happy. You were deeply inter-
ested in your story, and laid it aside with
reluctance; but was the pleasure of read-
ing an interesting book like the pleasure
you now feel?"
"Oh no, mother, it can not be com-
pared to it."
"Never, then, forget, my child, that
the only true delights which will attend
you on your journey through life will be
those which spring from unselfish efforts
to benefit others. It will not always be
necessary for you to go in search of ob-
jects of suffering; but these should never


be neglected when they meet your eye.
Your uses to others will lie particularly
in that business which, after you become
a man, will require your daily attention.
In that, no matter what it may be, if the
calling be an honest one, you can and
must be useful to others; and just so far
as in the performance of those uses you
think of others, and desire to be useful
to them, will you experience delight, and
the more earnestly you desire to be em-
ployed in kind acts and generous offices,
the more opportunities of so doing will
be presented, and the greater will be the
delight that will spring from their per-
"But was it wrong for me to be en-
gaged in reading an interesting book?"


"No, my child, not by any means. It
was only wrong for you to be unwilling
to deny yourself the pleasure of reading,
that you might make others happy."
"Oh, yes; now I see the difference."
"Well, hereafter try to remember that
in all your acts toward others you have
it in your power to communicate delight;
and try also ever to be a medium of such
delight, even if in doing so you have to
practice self-denial; and as you journey
through life you will find many sweet
flowers growing along your path, while
too many find but thorns on theirs; and
you will prove also the truth of that
precious saying, 'It is more blessed to
give than to receive.'"

(li Nui and fol 15 ncna.

c -1.~ ~ 'OME years ago the French,
'under Napoleon, had an
'-'-,r_ )' army in Spain trying to
"i,- conquer it. England sent
S ) an army to help 'the Span-
iards in their efforts to
S drive the French army out
of Spain. When they found themselves
obliged to leave certain towns and vil-
lages, the French soldiers would often set
fire to them, so as to do as much harm to
them as possible. And then when the


English soldiers came up, they would
find very little left but the blackened
ruins of what, a few hours before, had
been a happy, smiling, beautiful village.
The soldiers could hardly find places to
sleep in.
At the close of a long day's march,
four or five soldiers, belonging to a regi-
ment in the English army, were occupy-
ing a small room in a house that had
escaped the fire which the French had
kindled in a village before leaving it.
They cooked their supper in a hasty
way, and lay down to sleep, for they
were very tired.
Pretty soon they were all fast asleep
except one, whose name was Henry Au-
brey. He was thinking of his happy


home in England, and longing for the
time when he should once more be there.
It got to be toward the middle of the
night, and yet he had not been able to
sleep. As he lay thinking, on his bed
of straw, he thought he heard a low, soft
cry. He listened, and heard it again;
but he could not tell where it came from.
It seemed to come out of the very wall
of the room in which he was lying, but
he could see no opening anywhere. At
last he got up and went feeling around
the wall, and tapping his hand on it, to
find out if there was any hollow place in
which a human being could be hidden.
Presently something gave way under his
hand. Then he took his knife and cut
through a soft substance that covered a


deep hole in the wall. A faint light
from the street shone into the room, and
a cry of terror came from the opening
the soldier had made. It was the cry
of a child, and Aubrey spoke a few kind
words in Spanish, to quiet the fears of the
little one. Then he drew out of the hole
a pretty little boy, about four years old.
He was very much frightened, and cried
aloud. It was a good while before the
kind-hearted soldier could get the child
quieted. He made him some warm
drink, and gave him part of the food
which was to furnish his own scanty
breakfast in the morning. At last the
child was calmed and comforted by the
kind and gentle ways of the good soldier.
Then he told him that his name was


Pepe; that his mother, frightened when
the French army was coming, had gone
away with his brothers and sisters;
but, as he was too big to be carried, and
too little to walk, his mother had put
him in that hole in the wall, leaving
some water and some grapes with him,
and pasting the hole over with paper,
intending, when the soldiers were gone,
to come back and seek her child again.
Two nights and a day had passed since
Pepe had been in his strange hiding-
place, with no more air than could get
through the little holes his mother had
made in it. In the meantime the French
had set fire to the village, and all the
houses, except two or three, had been


Soon little Pepe fell asleep, on the bed
of straw which his new friend had made
for him. When Aubrey looked at the
poor child, as he lay fast asleep before
him, he could not help thinking of the
narrow escape he had had from death,
by fire on the one hand, and by hunger
on the other. For, as the French in-
tended to come back and occupy the
village again, there would have been no
chance for Pepe to escape, and the hole
in which his mother hid him would have
become his grave.
The next morning, when the soldiers
were mustered to drill, Henry Aubrey
made a very strange appearance among
his comrades. In addition to his musket
and knapsack, he carried little Pepe


astride of his shoulders. This led to
many inquiries. He told his colonel how
he found him, and the kindness of his
manner to the poor child, and his earnest
desire to save him from perishing,
touched the heart of the officer. He
gave Aubrey permission to keep the
child until the baggage-wagons came up,
and then he was put in charge of one of
the women attached to the regiment.
Some months had passed away. Au-
brey kept an eye on his little charge,
and saw that he was kindly attended
to. One day a bloody battle was
fought. The English gained a victory
over the French; but it was dearly
bought. Many soldiers were left dead
on the field, and still more lay there


wounded and suffering. Among these
was Henry Aubrey. A terrible thirst
was almost killing him. Water, water;
how he longed for a cup of cold water!
He could see lights moving here and
there across the field; but no one seemed
to come near him. His sight began to
fail him; his mind became confused, and
then, for awhile, he was unconscious.
When he came to himself, the first thing
he knew was that something cold was
touching his lips, and he found himself
drinking a nice long drink of cool,
refreshing water. At the same time he
heard a child's voice crying, "0, my
father, my father!" It was little Pepe,
who had found him out amid the dead and
the wounded, and was holding a cup of


cold water to his lips. Refreshed by the
water which Pepe brought him, Henry
Aubrey was kept alive till the ambulance
cart came by and carried him to the hos-
pital. There Pepe remained with him,
and did all he could for the comfort of
his kind preserver.
When Aubrey got better he was dis-
charged, on account of his wound. He
returned to England, taking Pepe with
him. When the war was over, the
colonel of his regiment gave him em-
ployment; and when he was no longer
able to work for himself, Pepe worked
for him, and supported and comforted
him all his days.
This story teaches us two valuable les-
sons. We see here, for one thing, how


many ways God has of taking care
of his people. He taught Pepe's mother
to provide for his safety by hiding
him in that hole in the wall. And
when the poor little fellow could not
have lived there much longer, he
brought that kind-hearted soldier there
to take care of him. And then, that
Aubrey might hear the child's low cry
amid the quiet of the night, God kept
him awake, though his comrades were
fast asleep around him, and he was very
tired himself. How sweet it is to see
that the great God in heaven would
think about this little child, in the hole
where his mother had hidden him, and
would take so much pains, as we say,
to have him saved! How we should


love and serve and trust this gracious
Another thing we learn from this story
is, that when we try to do good to others
God always blesses us for it. When
Henry Aubrey was kind to that poor,
forsaken, crying child, he never stopped
to think what he should get for his kind-
ness. He didn't do it for the sake of
the reward. And yet God did reward
him for it. If it had not been for his
kindness to little Pepe, there would have
been no one to give him that cup of
water as he lay suffering on the battle-
field. That cup of water saved his life.
Here was his reward. And when he
was an old man, and unable to help him-
self, he would have had no one to work


for him, and wait on him, if it had not
been for his kindness to little Pepe.
Thus God did good to him, because he
tried to do good to others.


~A, IIARLIE, Charlie!"
Clear and sweet as a
e note struck from a sil-
ver bell, the voice rip-
pled over the common.
"That's mother !"
cried one of the boys;
and he instantly threw down his bat,
and picked up his jacket and cap.
"Don't go yet!" "Have it out!"
"Finish this game!" "Try it again !"
cried the players, in noisy chorus.


"Imust go right off-this very min-
ute. I told her I'd come whenever she
Make believe you did n't hear her!"
they all exclaimed.
"But I did hear her."
She won't know you did."
But I know it, and- "
Let him go," said a bystander.
"You can't do any thing with him.
He's tied to his mother's apron string."
"That's so!" said Charlie, cheerily;
"and it's to what every boy ought to be
tied, and in a hard knot, too."
"But I wouldn't be such a baby as to
run the minute she called!" said one.
"I do n't call it bTbyish to keep one's
word to his mother," answered the obedi-


ent boy, a beautiful light glowing in his
blue eyes. "I call that manly; and the
boy who don't keep his word to her
will never keep it to any one else; you
see if he does!" and he hurried away to
his cottage home.
Thirty years have passed since those
boys played ball on the common. Charles
Grey is now a prosperous business man
in this great city; and his mercantile
friends say of him that "his word is "as
good as a bond." We asked him once
how he acquired such a reputation.
I never broke my word when a boy,
no matter how great the temptation
and the habit formed then has clung to
me through life."



R. W. CARROLL & CO. would call the attention of par-
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and which, for attractiveness, excellence, and popularity,
are equal to any in the market. They have in preparation
other valuable and entertaining books for the young, which
will be duly announced.

THE GUN-BOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
6 vols., 16mo., illustrated. $7.50
Frank, the Young Naturalist, Frank on a Gun-boat,
Frank in the Woods, Frank Beforo Vicksburg,
Frank on the Prairie, Frank on the Lower Mississippi.
Harry .. -i--.- ......, the author of this intensely ..-ir ...- .: set of
books for .- .. officer in the United States '' Rr ,*..- River
service, and has already achieved a reputation as a writer which fairly
entitles him to rank with "Oliver Optic" and the best authors of
Juvenile Books in the country.

tlemon. 3 vols., 16mo., thick, illustrated. 4.50
Tom Newcombe; or The Boy of Bad Habits,
Go Ahead; or The I .., .1 M. otto
No Moss; or, The .- i.. i i olling Stone.
In this NEW SET of books, Harry Castlemon has demonstrated
more fully his ability to write such works as will not only entertain,
but instruct; not only amuse, but instill into the mind such prin-
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good and useful citizens.

mon. 3 vols. Illustrated. $3.75.
Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho.
Frank in the Mountains.
This is a new series of books, which introduces Frank and Archie
in new scenes, and which are full of exciting incidents. They are
equal in interest to the very popular Gunboat Series, by the same