Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Aunt Eunice's fairy story
 Widdie's angels
 The arrows of the tempter
 The faithful dog
 Our hero
 The Robin family
 Back Cover

Group Title: The little monitor series
Title: Aunt Eunice's fairy story
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054761/00001
 Material Information
Title: Aunt Eunice's fairy story
Series Title: The little monitor series
Physical Description: 65 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Goodwin, M. M. B ( Marcia Melissa Bassett )
New York Bureau of Illustration
R.W. Carroll & Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: R.W. Carroll & Co.
Place of Publication: Cincinnati
Publication Date: 1869, c1868
Copyright Date: 1868
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Ohio -- Cincinnati
Statement of Responsibility: by Mrs. M.M.B. Goodwin.
General Note: Added engraved series t.p.
General Note: Illustrations drawn and engraved by N.Y. Bureau of Illustration.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054761
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 - 002230691
notis - ALH1055
oclc - 56970002

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Table of Contents
        Page iv
    Aunt Eunice's fairy story
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    Widdie's angels
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The arrows of the tempter
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    The faithful dog
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Our hero
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    The Robin family
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
11. W. CARROLL & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
for the Southern District of Ohio.

|i ,ELL us a story!"cried
Alice, as she saw Aunt
Y -,'4,," '"- .- -Eunice lay down
-,-l. rher book and take
';"' o-'-.j 1 .p her knitting.
.i. i At the word story, Ella
I ..i' --f ,id her slate upon the
-,'",. --"-"" -^ IT _
_,. ble, and drew a stool to
r' ', '. Aunt Eunice's feet; while
baby Annie dropped her
doll, face down, upon the carpet, and,
climbing into her aunt's lap, put both


her arms around her neck and whispered,
softly, "When you was littlee dirl." There
seemed to be magic in the words, for Aunt
Eunice, whose gaze had been fixed upon
the fire, looked up smilingly, and com-
"Once upon a time-"
"Is it a fairy story?" questioned Alice
and Ella both in a breath.
"Well, one kind of a fairy story; and
you may tell me the fairy's name, if you
can, when I have finished;" and then she
commenced again:
"Once upon a time there was a great
commotion in the forest; the leaves began
to peep out of their dark winter blankets
and don their spring dresses.
Miss Maple shook out the folds of her


crimson satin, and at once all the honey-
bees came to do her homage. Mr. Beech
dressed himself in a suit of glossy green,
and it became the fashion; and all the
gentlemen who wanted to move in the
'first circles' followed his example.
"Presently a little violet opened her
blue eyes, and smiled to see how fine her
stately neighbors were looking, and as she
was gazing around, she spied two bright
green leaves that were strangers in that
"'What might I call you?' asked the
violet, with a little bend of the head, and
a sweet smile.
"'My name is Oak, and I'm called
'King of the Forest,'" he answered, try-
ing to stretch up a little, so as to get sight


of a lady-bug who was singing softly to
herself under a toad-stool umbrella.
"'Ha! ha! a king! a king!' cried Miss
Maple, and she laughed until some of
the crimson blossoms with which she had
decked her head fell at the feet of the self-
styled monarch.
"Then Mr. Beech cast his eyes down,
and, with the utmost disdain, exclaimed:
"'A beautiful monarch, truly, with your
two leaves and not a sign of a crown!'
"The little oak was astonished at the
commotion his words had raised, and al-
most ready to drop with shame as, one by
one, every tree and shrub around him
joined in the laughter, and mocked at his
pretensions. And when even the birds
sang songs of derision, he made up his


mind to return again to the little brown
coffin from which he had so lately been
resurrected, and thus hiding under the
ferns let the ants build a labyrinth over
his grave.
"Just then a bright little fairy hopped
out of a forget-me-not, and coming up close
to the despondent oak, whispered softly:
"'Take heart, little oak! take heart!
Don't you know that merit is seldom
appreciated unless accompanied by show?
So mind nothing about this ridicule; but
make friends of the sun and dew, and
do n't try to stretch up your head until
your feet are firmly set, and be modest,
retiring, and generous, and the time will
come when you will be far above all these
silly people both in position and fame.'


"The oak listened to the good fairy's
advice, and practiced upon it. H-e made
friends of the sun and the dew, and all
the flowers learned to love him; for, as he
grew older, he protected them from many
a storm, receiving upon his broad brow
fierce blasts that would have prostrated a
weaker form.
"Thus the years went by, and Miss
Maple and Mr. Beech saw their young
rival outstrip them in grace and beauty,
and in their old age they were obliged to
honor him as 'king of the forest.'
"At last, while the young monarch was
yet hale and strong, they tottered and fell
to rise no more, and their once sturdy
limbs became the prey of crawling worms,
and only the blue-eyed violet, that they


had once scorned, ever shed a tear over
their mournful fate.
"The oak, no longer reminded by their
presence of his former lowliness, began to
grow proud and haughty, and to care less
and less about the friends of his childhood;
and greed and selfishness also crept into
his heart, and he drank up all the rain-
drops and caught every arrow of sunshine
which the 'king of day' cast from his
quiver, and even took the pearly dew to
bathe his own broad brow, and left the
fern and the violet to faint and die at his
feet for the want of one little drop of
"The oak had forgotten all about the
good fairy; but she, seeing how utterly
selfish he had become, determined to bring



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mocking winds laughed in his face and
stripped him of his royal robes, and in a
few short months he lay as low in death
as those he had neglected and despised."
Here Aunt Eunice paused and began
counting stitches.
"Is that all?" asked Alice, as she saw
no indication of the continuance of the
"Yes, all of my part; but I thought
you and Ella were to tell me the fairy's
"I tan tell! one fairy did turn on mam-
ma's rose-bush, all d'essed up bootiful, and
said, 'h-u-m!'" and baby Anna tried to
imitate -the noise of the humming-bird,
which, in its beauty, she had mistaken for
a fairy.


Alice thought the fairy's name must be
Love, and Ella concluded it was Charity.
Aunt Eunice smiled. "Love and Char-
ity are, indeed, both good fairies; but this
fairy's name was Humility." Then she said
to these little girls just what I am going
to say to you, dear little reader:
As long as Humility guards your heart
you will be happy, no matter what may
be your position in life; but when, by
pride and selfishness, you drive away this
good fairy, sorrow and shame are almost
sure to follow, and at last you will die,
unregretted, and your memory will pass
away from earth forever.

I : ,' FRED! What
4, ?*, .. -a pleasant pic-
I ture they made
'; - i *' ', as th
JJ i~L4 as the summer
SI sun touched
-- __. their brown
hair and turned each clustering curl to
gold, as, through all the long summer
days they wandered in the meadow and
orchard, or played upon the sands of the


Their mother, busy with household
cares, was content to see them come home
from their ramblings with rosy cheeks and
happy hearts, and in listening to their
bird-like voices prattling of the "great
eagle" whose nest was perched upon an
almost inaccessible cliff, high above the
reach of the dashing waves, or of the
robin whose tiny home was hidden among
the fragrant apple-boughs of the hill-side
Always upon their return from an ex-
cursion, they would stop at the window,
half-hidden by the grape-vine, and rap-
ping lightly upon the glass, try to call
their mother's attention; and when they
succeeded, what gleeful laughter rang out,
waking even the swallow, who peered


down from her nest under the eaves, and,
seeing the sweet faces beneath, settled
herself carefully back with low notes of
encouragement to her young, who were
fluttering with illi i,it.
Widdie was the eldest, and usually took
excellent care of his brother and sister;
but one day he left them on the beach
while he ran home for his fishing-line.
He had hardly gained the cottage door
when a piercing shriek from the children
reached his ears. The mother dropped
her work, and with fear-blanched faces
both mother and son hastened to the
Alas! it was too late; the waves washed
ashore the lifeless bodies of the two chil-
dren, tightly clasped in each other's arms;


and vainly the mother tried to restore life.
A little grave was made beneath the wil-
low under whose sheltering branches they
had so often played, and within sound of
the roar of the waters which henceforth
would sing a sad requiem for them.
The long sunny days of autumn came;
the apple-blossoms had turned to luscious
fruit, the golden grain had been harvested,
and above the cottage window rich clus-
ters of grapes hung purpling in the sun.
There were no little feet pattering under
the window, no little hands tapping upon
the glass, or teasing brother Widdie to
reach for the coveted fruit; and many a
lonely day the boy spent keeping his sad
mother company.
One day a neighbor happened in at the


cottage, and, noticing the ripening grapes,
asked Mrs. Marella why she did not make
them into wine.

Fred loved them, and I gave them ll
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"I have never had any to spare until
this year," she answered. "Meteta and
Fred loved them, and I gave them full
permission to eat all they wished, and so


there was seldom any to waste. *Widdie
does not care for grapes, and I think, as
you have mentioned it, that I will make
them into wine."
Just as she uttered these words a low
tap at the window caused her to start and
turn pale, so much did it remind her of
the playful signals with which her little
ones used to announce their coming; but
no little laughing faces were peering in
at the window, only the white-winged
dove they had tamed stood there, wait-
ing to have the sash raised for its ad-
Widdie had fallen asleep upon the lounge,
and the dove flew to him, and with low
cooings nestled close to his cheek.
Mrs. Marella turned again to her vis-


itor, but somehow the process of wine-
making which she had been trying to
impress upon her mind had lost its inter-
est, and her thought had gone back to her
children, and they seemed once more to
fill the room with their presence.
Widdie grew restless in his sleep, and
at last, with a sharp cry, started up. His
mother was at his side in an instant.
"What is it, dear; are you sick?"
"0, mother! I have had such a dream!
I thought Mrs. French had persuaded you
to make all of our beautiful grapes into
wine; and just as you had promised to do
so, there came a tap at the window under
the grape-vine; and when I looked, there
stood Metta and Fred, but their faces were
very pale and solemn, and they had large


white wings, which fluttered as though
they longed to be floating away from this
sorrowful earth.
"They motioned me to follow them, and
silently we passed far, far away. All was
darkness and gloom, and at last we paused
upon the brink of a dreadful gulf, and I
looked down and saw men struggling in
fearful torment and cursing your name.
I turned to Fred for an explanation.
In low, awe-struck tones he whispered:
'These are our mother's victims. She
made wine from the juice of the grapes
which. grew above our cottage window,
and tempted men to drink; the strong
and the brave learned to love the red
wine, they became drunkards, and this is
their abode.'


"Again I looked, but this time the scene
was upon the earth. In our dear old home
.I saw myself a slave to the wine-cup which
came crimson from your hands. I drank
it to the dregs, when from out the glass
reared a terrible viper, which struck its
fangs into my heart, and as I lay dead
you wept above me, calling yourself a
murderer! Mother! 0, mother! I am so
thankful that it is all a dream!"
"I think your angels must have warned
us in a dream, Widdie, and never shall a
single bunch of our grapes be made into
wine. When I pause to think how many
mothers are thus making drunkards of
their children, I wonder that I thought,
even for-a moment, of following such a
fearful example-one so fraught with


mischief as that of making home-made
Long years have passed, but to Widdie
the visit of his angels is an ever-present
reality, while the mother has gone to meet
them upon the other shore.

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-tl Amin, of flit "pip,

OYS, you have
all doubtless
~p played with bows
"" r i'" l! and arrows, and
thought it fine
fun if you suc-
S' c''eeded in hitting
a mark, say, at
h least once in a
if vi dozen times. It
; ; has, no doubt,
M1--; ':'-_.; seemed almost
fabulous to you to read that beautiful story


of William Tell, and when you had fin-
ished reading, your heart would beat with
patriotism, and you tried harder than ever
to become expert with the bow and arrow.
And when
I you have
S--- read some
S wonderful
story of the
Indians, and
S' their accu-
-'" .- :r- acy of aim,
and the dead-
.- -', ; / i --... .
S' ly destrue-
-..- ',: ,'" / .-_. tion which
S '- they dealt

their foes with their lithe arrows, you
have almost wished you had been born


an Indian boy, roaming at will amid the
grand old forest, resting in the shade of
the pines, or following the panther and
the deer, swift and fleet as the wind, and
so skillful with the feathered arrows, that
you, too, could become a monarch in the
wild, wild wood.
Alas! such dreams are only the sunlight
that gilds the hideous depravity of savage
life. Like the wild rose-vine that covers
the mouth of a damp, dark cavern, ro-
mance shuts from our sight the darkest
mysteries of uncivilized life.
But there are other arrows, unseen, per-
haps, yet as deadly as any ever aimed by
the wild men of the woods. Satan has
painted his arrows, and, dipped in blood,
they are aimed at the life of every child.


The arrows of temptation! It is terrible
to feel their sting!
Did you ever pass by a fine cherry tree,
loaded with fruit, and did something whis-
per in your ear "Just help yourself to some
of those cherries; no one will see you, and
they are ripe and good?" That was the
tempter's seducing voice, and while he
whispered, he shot an arrow into your
heart, and if you could have seen it as it
sped from the bow, you would have found
the little word covetousness, written in
blood, close to the feathery head. When
once this arrow has remained in the hu-
man heart long enough to poison it, the
person is capable of committing crimes at
which he would once have shuddered.
He wants his neighbor's fruit; covetous-


ness bids him take it. He wants his
neighbor's money; he reaches forth his
hand and steals. Little by little the arrow
sinks into his very being, and the peni-
tentiary becomes his home; and, unless he
washes his sin-stained soul in the waters
of repentance, Satan finds his arrow has
wrought out its legitimate work, and he
only waits for death to end the scene, that
he may secure the victim's soul.
Among the many arrows that the temp-
ter carries in his quiver that of intemper-
ance slays the most victims. Just a drop,
because others do, and it would never do
to be out of fashion!" lisps the wine-
drinker, but "just a drop" soon becomes
a glass, and the wine gives place to more
fiery liquids, until the once innocent boy


is changed into a frenzied maniac or a
driveling idiot.
The arrow of intemperance, however,
does not stop at the wounding of its vic-
tim. If it enters the heart of one mem-
ber of a family, it turns to a serpent,
and its slimy length is .1, .1 across ev-
ery flower of beauty, and peace and hap-
piness are turned to discord and misery.
Boys, if you would avoid the poisoned,
fiery arrow of the tempter, never listen to
a single whisper breathed from his deceitful
lips, for while he stops to flatter, his ar-
rows are sent forth, and when once lodged
in the heart, they can only be dislodged
with anxious care and bitter pain; and if
allowed to remain, sin, death, remorse and
and utter ruin is most surely the result.

ihe aithfl a;.

,, .'1, R.'LR LUDLOW
: lii~ ved near the

Hudson. Cal-
.,I j 'flw Yin or Cal, as
,-' '-' t he was usually
S-.:-.ic.:alled, had often
S- been forbidden
:: .. by his parents
to go near the
river, unless his older brother, Albert,


was with him, as he was too young to
manage a boat, and there was danger of
his falling into the deep water. But, like

;rents: and one (ay when Albert was in
1 '1 '> -- ."-,

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many little boys, Cal thought he knew
quite as much, or even more, than his
parents; and one day when Albert was in


the city with his father, and the hired man
was busy in the hay-field, he quietly slip-
ped out of the house, and, persuading his
little sister Anna to accompany him, they
ran swiftly down the path to the river.
Their father's skiff, fastened to a stake,
was floating some distance from the shore,
but, by wading, the children managed to
reach it, and clambering in, they com-
menced rocking the boat from side to side,
laughing, and shouting, and dipping their
hands in the water, pulling up the long-
stemmed leaves of the pond lilies, and al-
together seeming to forget that they were
disobeying their parents.
Thus they spent the long summer after-
noon, playing until they were tired and
hungry, and the sun was almost down.


Both the children were standing up in the
boat preparing to return home when it
gave a lurch, which caused Anna to fall
overboard, while Cal was pitched forward,
and, his head striking the edge of the skiff,
he was rendered insensible. Anna rose to
the surface, but it was far out in deep water
where the under-current had carried her.
When tea was ready at the farm-house,
and Cal and Anna were found to be ab-
sent, there was great consternation in the
family circle, and the hired man hastened
at once to the river, where he found Cal
lying in the boat, still insensible, but
Anna was nowhere to be found. Taking
Cal in his arms he carried him hastily to
the house, where he was at length restored
to consciousness, but he could, of course,


give no account of Anna, save, that when
the boat tipped she fell into the water.
Supposing, of course, that she must be
drowned, every effort was made for the
recovery -of her body-the river being
Jd:-__..!. near the place of the accident,
and the shore watched for miles below.
Slowly the days dragged by. Dear lit-
tle Anna, the pet of the family, it wvas
hard to give her up! Cal's distress was
terrible to witness when he fully realized
that his disobedience was the cause of her
loss. "I coaxed her to go-it is all my
fault," he repeated again and again, with
bitter tears and agonizing sobs. The poor
boy found that the road of disobedience
was rough and thorny, and that punish-
ment swiftly followed upon any act com-


mitted in defiance of parental authority.
But, though tears and regrets could avail
little for the past, this sorrow was so deep
that the heart of the boy seemed changed,
and his parents hoped the reformation

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At the time of the accident a steamboat
was ]..r li,: quite near the shore. Most


of the passengers were below at supper,
but, fortunately, one gentleman had re-
mained upon deck. He saw the accident,
and spoke to the large Newfoundland dog
who lay quietly sleeping at his feet. In
an instant the dog was in the water and
had hold of Anna before she again sank,
and, swiftly swimming to the boat, both
were taken on board. The dog was pet-
ted and caressed, and made a hero of, but
his attention could scarcely be attracted
from the child he had saved; and when
she was taken below and placed in a berth,
that she might rest and recover from the
fright, he lay down near the state-room
door and kept watch for her re-appear-
Had it been early in the day when the


accident occurred, the captain would have
sent Anna at once to the shore, but it was
almost sundown, and he had passed the
little cove some ways when he first learned
that there had been an addition made to
the number of his passengers; so there
seemed nothing to be done but to make
the child as comfortable as possible, and
leave her upon his return trip.
The boat had quite a long journey to
make before returning, and Anna, becom-
ing used to strange faces and surroundings,
won all hearts by her quiet, child-like
ways and innocent prattle.
She talked of her home and her brother
Cal, but she became content when the cap-
tain assured her that in a few days she
should be taken there. She was too young


to realize how greatly her disappearance
must trouble her friends, and so the days
that were so bitter at the farm-house were,
to her, a sort of holiday, for never was a
child more kindly cared for than was
Anna, by both passengers and crew. The
companion that she loved best of all, how-
ever, was the great black Newfoundland-
"Carib," his master called him, but Anna
could not talk quite plain, and so his name
was "Wib" when it fell from her sweet
lips; but Carib understood it; perhaps he
liked it best, at least he was always at her
side in answer to her slightest call, and
when she was on deck his eyes followed
her every moment, and he became her
most faithful and attentive guardian, as
well as playfellow and companion.


At last the boat reached its destination,
unloaded its passengers, and prepared for
the return trip. When Mr. Camlin, the
master of Carib, stepped toward the wharf,
the dog seemed in the deepest distress.
He ran back and forth between his master
and Anna, taking hold of her dress with
his teeth, and in every way trying to have
her accompany him. His master tried in
vain to coax him away, and finally step-
ped upon the wharf without him. Carib
leaped down beside him, but, as the boat
put on steam and started down the river,
Anna still standing on the deck, it was
too much for the faithful animal, he gave
a prolonged howl, and, jumping into the
water, swam after the boat, and as his mas-
ter called and whistled in vain there was


nothing for the captain to do but to take
him on board.
As soon as he reached the deck he went
close up to Anna, and giving a deep sigh-
ing whine, which sounded almost human,
he lay down beside her. It seemed as
though the poor dog would have said, if
he could have spoken, "You see how I
love you, Anna, when I forsake all my
old friends to follow you!"
The voyage down the river was without
incident, and, when the captain reached
the little cove near Anna's home, he stop-
ped the boat, and sent the child, still ac-
companied by Carib, to the shore.
Anna's father saw the boat stop, and
the thought which first entered his mind
was that his child's body had been found.


What, then, were his feelings when little
Anna, alive and well, was placed in his
arms? I can not describe the joy of that
once more united family; and Carib was
welcomed and prized, as he deserved to be,
by one and all; but he was still Anna's
special guardian and protector, and, during
the day, he never permitted himself to lose
sight of her. In the garden, the meadow,
or the grove, wherever her footsteps wan-
dered the faithful dog was always beside
The children soon found out that Carib
had been taught a great many queer tricks.
He would stand up like a man, with a cane
between his paws and a hat on his head, or
play that he was dead, and let them pull
him around, while he showed no signs of


life. He could open and shut the door,
carry pails or bundles, or draw the little
cart down the garden walk, while Anna
sat like a young princess holding the lines.
In fact, he was so wise, that Cal frequently
informed his father that Carib knew how
to do every thing but talk.
It seemed, during all those long, happy
weeks that followed Anna's return, that
Cal had really reformed, and that he would
never again indulge in any of his old care-
less habits of forgetfulness and disobedi-
ence; but even in childhood, prayerfulness
and humility, and constant watchfulness
over the wayward impulses, are necessary
to form a reliable character, and Cal one
day forgot his good resolutions, and again
committed an act of careless disobedience,


which came very near causing the death
of good old Carib.
Seeing his father enter the cellar with a
large piece of beef, he called to him for a
slice for the dog.
"I have other uses for it," replied his
father; then he added, "See that you keep
the cellar door shut, so that Carib do n't
get down and eat the meat-I have fixed
it for the rats."
Cal promised faithfully, but, before night,
he had forgotten all about it, and, going
into the cellar, he let Carib follow him.
The dog seeing the meat upon the cellar
bottom ate it at once. In a few hours he
was very sick, and it was only by extreme
exertion that his life was saved at last.
Cal loved the dog, and when he saw his


terrible suffering, as the spasms of pain
convulsed his form, his tears fell like rain,
and his disobedient habits assumed so
hateful a look, that, from that moment, he
commenced a reform in good earnest, and,
I am glad to say, that he has not fallen
back into the old careless state, nor does
there seem any danger of his ever doing-so.
One day the stage stopped in front of
the old farm-house, and a gentleman
alighted. No sooner did Carib get sight
of him than he rushed down the path,
whining, barking, and in every possible
way expressing the utmost rejoicing. It
proved to be his old master, and, at the
same time, a dear friend of Anna's father.
His joy was very great when he learned
what a blessing Carib had been to his


friend, and, as he was searching for some
place to settle, he resolved to purchase the
adjoining farm and make his home near
the banks of the Hudson.
As you can imagine, no one was more
pleased with this arrangement than Carib,
who had now two homes, but his alle-
giance to Anna remains just as firm as
ever, and Anna herself is almost as much
at home upon one farm as the other. With
the faithful dog as a companion, she is
permitted to wander where she pleases,
and no apprehensions are felt for her
Anna's sister, Clara, sometimes writes
poetry, and one day, as they were seated
upon an old log, close by the banks of the
river, with Carib lying on the grass at


their feet, she wrote the following verses,
which, as containing a lesson worthy of
every child's attention, we have concluded
to insert, hoping our little friends will not
only read them, but will likewise remem-
ber their truthfulness.

"Sister, there's no more school to-day;
I'm weary of my books-
Let's run a race-Carib will join,
I see it by his looks.
Far, far above, in yon blue sky,
The birds are floating free;
Why must we con these weary rules,
And count our one-two-three?

"I'm vexed, I'm sure, that little girls
Must study, day by day,
While birds, and flowers, and murmuring brooks
Have naught to do but play."


"Not so, dear sister; birds, you know,
Must build their little nests,
And feed their young, and shield them well
Beneath their downy breasts.

"The rivulet sings, but works the while;
For, hastening to the sea,
It scarcely stops to kiss the flowers
That blossom on the lea.
The river, with its winding sweep,
Its current brave and strong,
And ocean, bearing merchant fleets,
Sing Labor's ceaseless song.

"The tiny shells upon the beach-
The workmen neathh the waves,
Who build their coral palaces,
And find in them their graves-
Repeat great Nature's mystic law,
'Labor alone is life!'
And he who wars againstt Heaven's decree,
Must perish in the strife."

..RRY, our pet and darling, was six
years old and a day-
He'd always pretend to be working at
man's work, even in play-
Sometimes he was Preacher, or Doctor, or Law-
yer, or "Lord of the quill;"
Then, tiring of these, was a Hunter," and Kitty,
a bear, to kill.

"Harry will be an artist," he whispered it o'er
and o'er
That day, sitting beside me, at play on the
kitchen floor.


So, when he called from the door-way, "Hurry,
mamma, and see
How I'll take my Kitty's photo;" I smiled at
his winsome glee.

-I: -

Down through the clover blossoms-down thro'
the fragrant hay,
Where the stately maple's shadow asleep in the
sunshine lay;
At length, I followed his footsteps, just stopping
to pluck a flower,
And question old robin-red-breast foretelling a
coming shower.


I paused when I reached the orchard-paused in
blank dismay,
For, tied to the trunk of the "russet" Kitty
mewed pit-e-ously;
And there, on a stump before him, Harry'd
placed his father's gun,
And its silver hammer and mountings flashed in
the summer sun.

Spell-bound I stood for a moment, and heard the
child repeat,
"Harry's an artist, Kitty," (his voice was won-
drous sweet,)



"Kitty, hold still a moment Kitty, hold still,
I say!
Till I fix the 'blanket' nicely, and I'll 'take'
you, right away."

"Wait, Harry," I cried, "just a moment!" too
late-a loud report
Finished forever the '" -i.. ..I of Harry's inno-
cent sport,
Poor Kitty! he took her photo, took it in blood
that day,
And it cured him of being an artist, even in
childish play.

He could not believe he had killed her, and said
she was only "sick,"
And he was a famous doctor,to cure her "ever so
But when he looked down upon her-the ball
had entered her head-
He wept, for he saw how truly little gray Kitty
was dead.


We made a deep grave in the orchard, and Kitty
was laid to rest,
Red clover blossomed 'round her, white clover
covered her breast.
Harry grew up to manhood-manhood sturdy
and strong;
Loving the pure and the holy, hating oppression
and wrong.

He was first to respond to the war-cry, first to
put on the blue,
First to die for his country, with a love both
tender and true.

.r-. ,. -- _


The gun he had used as an "artist" he carried
until he fell-
It is all we have of "our hero"-our hero who
sleepeth well.

They buried him under the roses that blush in
the summer sun,
Upon the plains of the South-land, where our
victories were won;
A "Hero" the world will call him, and the na-
tion a tribute pay;
To me he's "little Harry-six years old and a

[\ I" r HAT are the birds
saying? whis-
S~f .j ipered the "Daf-
.l fies" to the Jon-
i l quils; and the
Crocuses and
,- ".. -' Hyacinths, hear-
S, .... ing the voices of
..their compan-
Sions, began to
wake up and inquire what it all meant.
"Why, do n't you know ?" said the Sun,


who had just come, with a face all warm
and glowing, from the tropics; "it means
that it is time to shake off your slumbers,
and come forth to meet the young spring."
Then he turned to the trees, and bade
them unfold their banners; and presently
a great whispering was heard in the for-
est, and Pussy Willow nodded to Miss
Maple, who blushed crimson, and bash-
fully bade her "good morning," and then
both fell to admiring their pretty faces in
the glossy stream, upon whose banks they
Now, the Robins, who were dressed all
alike, in brown coats and red vests,
were having a grand concert; and this it
was that awoke the flowers from their
winter's sleep, and set them to chattering.


Presently, Mr. Robin, who led the bird
choir, turned his head, first to one side,
then the other, winked his bright eyes,
and shook his glossy coat. "Did you hear
that?" he asked, hopping up close to Mrs.
Robin, who sat on a spray of eglantine,
close to the garden wall.
"Hear what?" asked Mrs. Robin, in a
frightened voice. Poor Mrs. Robin had
been very near losing her life that morn-
ing. The old gray cat had slipped slyly
up behind her, and only by great effort
did she escape being caught in puss's great,
red mouth, and it had left her so nervous
that she started at every sound.
"Why, the flowers, and the leaves, and
the brook, and the sun; don't you hear
them all talking? It's time we com-


menced to build, if we expect to keep
house this summer;" and Mr. Robin
spied an angle-worm, and, darting down,
brought it, as a prize to his wife, remark-
ing that such food was quite palatable, but
nothing to be compared to the strawberries
and cherries to come.
Mrs. Robin, who was a very obedient
wife, no sooner finished her dinner, than
she commenced hunting material for the
thatched cottage; and she worked so
busily that she forgot to hint to her hus-
band that she thought he spent more time
in singing, and less in bringing straws,
than he ought to have done. At last the
house was finished, and four little eggs lay
in the mossy cup-four little, speckled
eggs, which the mother bird warmed and


watched, patient and hopeful, day by
Patience is always rewarded; and one
morning, in place of the four cunning
eggs, there were four wide-open mouths,
and feeble, chirruping voices, which kept
both birds so busy, that Mr. Robin had
to give up his musical soirees for a time,
and attend to the wants of his family.
It is true that he once or twice whis-
pered to Mrs. Robin that their children
was not as good looking as he supposed
the children of such a father would be,
and that he thought such large mouths
and enormous appetites quite vulgar; but,
in the main, he was a very good father,
after all.
Now, beautiful May had bound ten


diamond days upon her brow, when old
King Winter, who had been banished to
the frozen realms of the North, seated
himself upon a cloud, and came down,
scattering hail, and sleet, and snow in his
pathway. The dear little flowers wept,
and, bowing their heads to the earth, were
covered with the white mantle.
The young Robins, who had for several
days been fluttering their wings, and whose
bright eyes had been peeping out of the
door of their thatch-cottage, whenever
their careful mother was away, looked
upon the changed earth with terror and
dismay; and when their mother returned
without even a beetle for their breakfast,
they sent forth a chorus of distressed
lamentation and wonderment.


"What makes the ground so white, and
the clouds so black?" asked the eldest of
Mrs. Robin's children.
"And what makes the nest so cold, and
where's father?" cried the next.
"Where's the big white grub you
promised us?" all screamed together.
The poor mother told them that the
bugs, and worms, and grains of corn were
all covered with snow, and she feared they
must go without their breakfast. "But I
will cover you with my warm feathers,"
she said, "and you can go to sleep, and
dream the hours away, while I keep a
close watch for your father, whom I left
under an evergreen in the forest, searching
for worms."
"But what will become of us if the


ground is always white, and that black
cloud hides the sun forever?" asked the
birds, in a breath.
"And what will we do without food?
You said there was a good God who gave
the Robins their food, and their beautiful
feathers to keep them from feeling the
stormy winds, and that he noticed even
the little brown sparrow; but, I'm sure,
our feathers do not keep us warm, and
now we have not even a crumb for our
breakfast," said the youngest daughter of
Mrs. Robin, in a hoarse voice, for the
sudden cold had given her a sore throat.
Well, my dear children," said the pa-
tient mother, "although the hour is dark
with clouds and storms, I know the sun
is shining beyond the darkness, and we


will trust in God in the hour of gloom as
well as in the sunlight of joy."
Just then their father returned, and,
with a chirp, alighted upon the edge of
the nest. In his bill was a large worm,
sufficient for the wants of his young fam-
ily; and when they opened their bright
eyes, and thanked him for their breakfast,
he improvised such a wonderful song, that
Puss, who was lying on a rug before the
kitchen fire, winked her eyes and informed
Rover, confidentially, that if she had her
paw on that hateful bird, he would not
long disturb the neighborhood with such
In a few hours the sun looked out from
behind the cloud-curtain, and the South
Wind, that had been straying among the


orange groves, kissed the meadows and
orchards, and the snow wept itself away;
the crocus smiled up at the sun, and blue-
birds and wrens, thrush and robin, chanted
a new chorus. When the young Robins
heard this, they fluttered their downy
wings, and tried hard to sing as their
father did. Seeing their earnest desire to
learn, their parents commenced at once to
teach them the mysteries of flight, and to
give them lessons in music; and, in a little
time, they were able to find their own
food, and forsook their downy nest, and,
being afraid of Puss, who came prowling
around the garden, with her great, staring
eyes, they took up their abode in a fra-
grant birch, in the depths of the forest.
But they never forgot the lesson learned


in the little thatch-cottage in the eglan-
tine; and when the wind rises, and the
rain comes down, they shelter themselves
under the green leaves, and remember
that the sun is still shining behind the

.=_.. ,;.^ ..-,V .-
*- ._.
; 1 ,', 'S "'l

IF}1 iL

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