{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16185/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16185","id":"gutenberg_16185","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16185","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Short Stories","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Children's stories","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Diane Monico, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFrontispiece.\n\n\n[Illustration: Mrs. Dudley stood by her little boy, looking from the\nwindow.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nNest in the Honeysuckles,\n\nAND OTHER STORIES.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nWRITTEN FOR THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION.\n\n\nPhiladelphia:\nAMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,\nNo. 316 CHESTNUT STREET.\n_NEW YORK:_ No. 147 NASSAU ST.\n_BOSTON:_ No. 9 CORNHILL...._CINCINNATI:_ 41 WEST FOURTH ST.\n_LOUISVILLE_: No. 103 FOURTH ST.\n\n_Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by the\nAMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,\nin the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of\nPennsylvania._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     _No books are published by the_ AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL\n     UNION _without the sanction of the Committee of Publication,\n     consisting of fourteen members, from the following denominations\n     of Christians, viz. Baptist, Methodist, Congregational,\n     Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and Reformed Dutch. Not more\n     than three of the members can be of the same denomination, and no\n     book can be published to which any member of the Committee shall\n     object._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n                                                             PAGE\n\nTHE NEST IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.                                   7\n\n\"MAY I POP SOME CORN?\"                                         33\n\n\"WHICH WOULD YOU RATHER I SHOULD DO?\"                          36\n\nTHE BIRDS AND THE SNOW-STORM.                                  40\n\nTHE FIRST STRAWBERRY.                                          43\n\n\"I PRAYED ALL DAY FOR HELP.\"                                   44\n\n\"EVER SO MANY BEAUTIFUL THINGS.\"                               47\n\nLILY AND HER DUCKLINGS.                                        51\n\nPRAYING FOR RAIN.                                              56\n\nTHE GRAPE CLUSTERS.                                            62\n\n\"IT ALMOST MAKES ME CRY.\"                                      65\n\nTHE BOY WHO STEALS.                                            68\n\nLOOK AT THE BIRDS.                                             73\n\nTHE LOST CHILD.                                                78\n\nTHE UNPLEASANT NEIGHBOUR.                                      83\n\nTHE BOY WHO KEPT HIS PURPOSE.                                  87\n\nMARY'S STORY.                                                  91\n\nTHE SUNNY FACE AND THE SHADY FACE; OR, JUNE AND NOVEMBER.      93\n\n\"IT ISN'T FAIR--I PEEPED.\"                                     96\n\nTHE CHRYSALIS.                                                 99\n\nCHRISTMAS AT THE COTTAGE.                                     102\n\nI WILL CONQUER MYSELF.                                        106\n\nSELFISH ELLA.                                                 110\n\n\"OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN.\"                               114\n\nHATTIE AND HERBERT.                                           117\n\nTHE TWO WILLS.                                                119\n\n\"BLESS GOD FOR THIS DOLL.\"                                    122\n\nBESSIE HARTWELL.                                              126\n\n\"MARY'S GREAT TREASURE.\"                                      131\n\n\"SUSAN WILL BE HAPPIER IF I GO WITH HER.\"                     133\n\nTHE NEWS-BOYS' BANK.                                          135\n\nIDA'S DRESS.                                                  144\n\nWHAT MADE WILLIE HAPPY.                                       148\n\nDO YOU INTEND TO BE A GENTLEMAN? (A QUESTION FOR BOYS.)       150\n\nGENEROUS NELLY; OR, THE WILLING MIND.                         153\n\nLOVEST THOU ME?                                               155\n\nMY LITTLE BAG.                                                158\n\nDO YOU LIKE YOUR SEAT?                                        160\n\nTHE LITTLE BEGGAR.                                            164\n\nLITTLE CHARLEY.                                               170\n\nDARLING WILLIE.                                               173\n\nWIDOW CAHOON AND HER GRANDSON.                                178\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nNEST IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\"Do come here, mother,\" said Eddie, carefully tip-toeing from the\nwindow, and beckoning with his hand. \"Here is something I want to show\nyou. Come carefully, or I am afraid you will frighten it.\"\n\nMrs. Dudley laid aside her book, and stepped cautiously forward, Eddie\nleading the way back to the window. \"What is it?\" she inquired.\n\n\"It is a bird with straw in its mouth, and I do believe it is going to\nbuild a nest.\"\n\nMrs. Dudley stood by her little boy a few minutes, looking from the\nwindow. Presently a robin alighted on the walnut tree, directly before\nthem, with a bunch of dry grass in its mouth. It rested a few seconds,\nand then flew in among the branches of a honeysuckle which twined\naround the pillars, and crept over the top of the porch. A fine, warm\nplace it was for a nest, sheltered from the north winds, and from the\ndriving rains, and from the hot rays of the noon-day sun.\n\nEddie and his mother watched the bird for some time. It would bring\nstraws, and arrange them in its nest, as only a bird can; and then it\nwould away again, and come back, perhaps, with its bill covered and\nfilled with mud, which it used for mortar in fastening the materials\nin their places. Then it would get in the nest, and, moving its feet\nand wings, would make it just the right shape to hold the pretty eggs\nshe would lay in it, and the little robins she would love so well, and\nfeed so carefully.\n\nThe robin was industrious, and worked hard to get the house finished\nin season. I think she must have been very tired when night came, and\nshe flew away to her perch to rest till morning. I do not see how she\ncould balance herself so nicely on one foot, as she slept with her\nhead turned back, and half-hidden beneath her wing.\n\nEddie often watched the robin during the day. He was careful not to\nfrighten it. \"I wonder how the robin could find so nice a place. I\nshould not have thought it would have known about it,\"--he said to his\nmother, as he saw the bird fly in, almost out of sight, among the\nclustering branches.\n\nMrs. Dudley told Eddie God taught the birds where to build their\nnests, and that he took care of them, and provided food for them.\n\nIs it not wonderful that God, who has built the world in which we\nlive, and all the bright worlds we can see in the sky, should attend\nto the wants of the robins and sparrows, and other birds which he has\nmade? We should forget them, if we had much of importance to attend\nto, or we should be weary of providing for their wants; but our\nheavenly Father never forgets, and never grows weary. He hears the\nravens when they cry, and not even a sparrow falls to the ground\nwithout his knowledge. \"Are ye not much better than they?\" our Saviour\nsaid to his disciples, when endeavouring to teach them to trust in the\nlove and parental care of God, and not to be anxious in regard to\ntheir temporal welfare.\n\nIf God so cares for the birds, whose lives are short, and who have no\nsouls to live in another world, will he not much more care for those\nwho are made in his image, and for whom the Saviour died?\n\nNo good thing will he withhold from those who walk uprightly, who try\nto obey his commandments, and look to Christ for salvation from sin. I\nhope, my dear children, when you see the birds, you will remember\nGod's love to them and to you.\n\nI have given you all I know of the history of one day of the robin's\nlife, but Eddie will observe it while it lives in its house in the\nhoneysuckle, and will tell me all he sees of its domestic\narrangements. I hope to tell you with what kind of a carpet it covers\nthe floor, and what it hangs on the walls, and how it brings up its\nlittle children, if it should be so happy as to have any to gladden\nits quiet home, and cheer it with their chattering tongues. I am sure\nit will have pretty flowers and green leaves for pictures to look at,\npainted by One whose skill no artist can rival; and it will need no\nCologne for perfume for the breath of the honeysuckle is more\ndelicious than any odour which the art of man could prepare.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nGOING TO HOUSEKEEPING.\n\n\nI promised to tell you more about the nest in the honeysuckles. Eddie\nhas observed it with great attention, and has kept me well informed in\nregard to it. I have stepped out upon the porch with him, and,\nkneeling down, and looking over the side, I have had a peep myself at\nthis wonderfully contrived home of the robins. It is partly supported\nby a cornice, which runs around the porch, and gives it a firmer\nfoundation than the small branches of the honeysuckle could do.\n\nBut I must not forget to tell you about the finishing of the nest.\nThe second day, the robin was at work before six o'clock in the\nmorning; so you see birds are early risers, and like to have their\nwork done in good season. They know how pleasant it is to see the rosy\ndawn, and welcome it with their sweetest strains of music. I wonder\nhow many of my little friends see the sun rise, these bright mornings!\nIf they would awake with the birds, they must, as wisely as the birds,\ngo to their places of rest before the shades of evening shroud the\nworld in darkness. If they sit up late, they will lose the morning\nsongs, which fill the woods with sounds of gladness, and which resound\nfrom every tree and shrub about the houses of those who love these\npleasant visitors, and refuse to allow them to be frightened from\ntheir premises.\n\nThe robin rose early, as I have told you, and resumed her labours for\na short time. Through the day she came occasionally to see how the\nhouse was drying, but did not seem to be at all busy. She had\naccomplished so much by her previous industry, that there was no\nnecessity for much exertion, and she felt quite at liberty to enjoy\nherself, taking short excursions in the country, and returning\nsometimes alone, and sometimes in company with her mate. He, once in a\nwhile, visited the nest; but was so well satisfied with the domestic\narrangements of his wife, and had so much confidence in her ability\nand skill, that he manifested no disposition to interfere with any of\nher plans, but cheerfully acquiesced in them, and cheered and\nencouraged her by singing her one of his sweetest songs, telling her\nhow dearly he loved her, how highly he esteemed her, and how truly\nhappy he was that he had so pleasant and agreeable, and at the same\ntime so housewifely, a companion. She appeared quite as well pleased\nto be appreciated as any wife or housekeeper of my acquaintance, and\nit made her labour a labour of love. We all like to be appreciated.\n\nI see the robin is a plain, common-sense bird in her notions, and\nwants nothing for mere display. Every thing which could add to the\nreal comfort of her family she has provided, and has no desire for any\nthing further. Many house-keepers might learn a valuable lesson from\nher prudent, comfortable arrangements.\n\nWhen the dwelling was completed, and suitably dry for occupancy, the\nrobin deposited there four bluish-green eggs. I assure you they are\nbeautiful, and are great treasures to her. In about twelve days from\nthe time Eddie first saw her carrying straws into the honeysuckles,\nshe became very domestic, never leaving home but for a few minutes at\na time. Her four eggs now occupy all her attention and her great\nbusiness seems to be to keep them warm with the heat of her own body.\nShe does not complain of being confined at home, but is entirely\nsatisfied to attend to the duties which devolve upon her. She is not\nuneasy that she cannot sing like her husband, or, like him, attend to\nthe interests of Robindom; but quietly and discreetly she labours in\nher appropriate sphere, and feels no wish to leave it for a less\nsecluded and less happy life. Her _heart_ is satisfied with the\nhappiness of her home, and she feels no uneasiness--no ungratified\nlongings for something to occupy her, aside from the duties she so\ncheerfully performs.\n\nMadam Robin was entirely satisfied with the success of her labours,\nand she had reason to be. No bird could have done better. This\nconsciousness of having done well did not make her proud; it only gave\nher such self-respect as every one feels who is conscious that an\nallotted task has been faithfully performed; and the praise of her\nhusband was no injury to her, as she was not silly enough to think of\nherself more highly than she ought to think.\n\nAs the house was for a summer residence, she selected fine\nstraw-matting, instead of woollen carpets for it. She put it down with\ngreat care, perfectly smooth and even. The wall was covered with the\nsame cool material, delicately woven. Wasn't it nice?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nPLEASANT NEIGHBOURS.\n\n\nThe location selected by our friend, the robin, seems to be highly\nappreciated by many of the feathered race. Although the robin was the\nfirst settler, others have already decided that it affords great\nadvantages in the way of shelter from the fierce winds, from the\nburning rays of a summer sun, and from the too-curious eyes of hawks\nand other birds of prey.\n\nAn abundance of fresh, soft water can be obtained not far from\nHoneysuckleville, and this is always a recommendation in favour of any\nplace, either for men or birds. Fruit also abounds. There will be\nbright red currants for the little folks; strawberries, too, more than\nthey can eat, and raspberries in any quantity they may wish. I must\nnot forget the cherries, of which birds are so fond, and which they\ncan have at any time when they are ripe, for merely the trouble of\npicking.\n\nIt is not surprising, with all these advantages in its favour, that\nHoneysuckleville should find more than one family happy to settle\nwithin its borders. For some time, two song-sparrows have made it\nfrequent visits; and have finally decided, after a careful survey,\nthat no more desirable spot can be found for a summer residence. They\nhave accordingly commenced building, not more than two feet from the\nmansion of the robins. Their house is much smaller--a cottage--but\nquite large enough for them. It nestles so lovingly in the shadow of\nthe vines, that I am sure domestic comfort must be found there.\nDiscord and contention could not abide in so peaceful a retreat.\n\nThe song-sparrows will be pleasant neighbours. They are exceedingly\nfond of vocal music, and their clear melodious voices fill the new\nsettlement with harmony. In that terrible snow-storm which occurred in\nthe middle of April, I often saw a sparrow alight on a bough of a tree\nnear the house, and send up to heaven such a strain of full, gushing\nmelody, as melted my heart with pity and admiration. It reminded me of\na child of God in the midst of trials and afflictions, yet rejoicing\nin faith, and trusting continually in the care of a Father in heaven.\nWas the cold little sparrow singing itself away, as it was once\nbelieved the swan sung its own death-song? Or may the new neighbour of\nthe robin be the very one whose voice rang out so clear and loud,\nabove the howlings of the storm? I trust no rude blast nor chilling\nfrost will mar the pleasure of our feathered friends, but that they\nmay prosper in their plans, and never forget seeking a home in the\nvine which winds so gracefully around the porch of Mrs. Dudley's\ncottage.\n\nThe song sparrow is not the only neighbour of the robin. A pair of\ncat-birds have a nest in a lilac near the honeysuckle, and one of them\nsings hour after hour on the walnut-tree opposite to the window and\noften comes near enough to the house to look through the open\ncasement. These birds have lived for several summers in that same\nlilac, and annually make all the repairs necessary to render their\ndwelling habitable. They have raised several broods of birdlings, much\nto their own enjoyment, and of Mrs. Dudley's bird-loving family.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nHOME DUTIES AND HOME PLEASURES.\n\n\nOur robin has been a keeper-at-home ever since those four bluish-green\neggs demanded her attention. She has occasionally left, for a few\nminutes at a time, to procure food and drink, or to take a little\nexercise; but she has never forgotten her quiet abode, and the duties\nwhich there require her almost constant presence. She loves the green\nfields, the leafy trees, and the clear blue sky, and delights to hop\nabout with her mate over the fresh grass and the clean gravel-walks;\nbut better than all she loves those pretty eggs, which lie so cozily\nin the bottom of her straw-built nest.\n\nBefore she commenced house-keeping, she was very fond of travelling,\nand many a mile has she wandered, over hill and valley, in company\nwith her friends. She assisted at concerts, and was universally\nadmired; but she had the good sense to give up these enjoyments\nwithout a murmur, when higher claims called for her undivided care.\nWhatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well; and the robin will\ndoubtless be repaid for the unwearied patience with which she performs\nher unostentatious duties. Some people are inclined to think domestic\nlabour dishonourable, and the cares of house-keeping a burden; but our\nfeathered friend is wiser than they. She does with her might what she\nfinds to do, and she does it heartily. Every act of duty, faithfully\nand cheerfully performed, is acceptable to God; and his children do\nhis will when they endeavour to attend to their various occupations in\nsuch a way as he can approve. If all house-keepers felt that, in\nattending to the different departments of their work as they should be\nattended to, they were honouring Him who has made this care necessary\nfor the comfort of families, it would be a blessing to themselves, and\nto who all who dwell under the same roof with them. We cannot consider\nany thing which we do to please our heavenly Father of small\nimportance, and no favour can be degrading which he requires of us.\n\nWe may all learn a lesson from the robin who lives in the\nhoneysuckles, and we shall see how she was rewarded for her devotion\nto the employment which Providence assigned her. The wisest of men, in\ndescribing the character of an excellent woman, says: \"The heart of\nher husband doth safely trust in her.\" \"She will do him good, and not\nevil, all the days of her life.\" Our feathered friend's husband is\nabsent much of his time (as most gentlemen are obliged to be) from his\nwell-ordered home; but he always thinks of it with pleasure, and\nhastens to it whenever he can find time to do so. Sometimes he only\nstops a moment, but it is a precious moment to them both, for their\nhearts and interests are one. They are cheered, in their separation,\nby the pleasant memories of these brief interviews, and by bright\nanticipations of future enjoyment.\n\nI have observed, Mr. Robin thinks it of importance to look nice at\nhome, as well as when he is abroad. I have seen him alight on the\nwalnut-tree, and carefully arrange his toilet, before going into the\npresence of his wife. She must feel complimented by this delicate\nattention, indicating so high a regard for her, and such anxiety to\npreserve her esteem. I should not wonder if she was a little proud of\nher handsome husband. However this may be, I am sure it is her\ngreatest happiness to deserve his respect and love, and honourably to\nperform all the duties which devolve upon her in her married life.\n\nMadam Robin was sitting one day in her vine-shaded home, looking out\nthrough the slender branches of the honeysuckle, which were gently\nswayed by a refreshing breeze, when she heard a slight tap. She\nlistened eagerly. Another tap--presently another. How her heart\nfluttered! It proceeded from one of those highly-prized eggs, and she\nknew it was the timid knock of a birdling, who was in that little\nchamber, and was waiting to have the door opened. Of how small\nconsequence all her self-denial and her seclusion from general society\nseemed, when that thrilling tap sounded on her ear! She continued to\nlisten, and within those four tiny chambers she heard the same rapping\nrepeated; and more than that, the sweet word, Mother, might seem\nfaintly to greet her ear. How she longed for her mate to return, that\nhe might enjoy, with her, this new happiness! When husband and wife\nlove each other, as they should, all pleasure must be shared, or it\nwill still be imperfect. She waited, almost impatiently for his\ncoming; and when he alighted on the honeysuckle, she looked so full of\ngrateful joy, that he knew that something more than usual must have\noccurred. He affectionately kissed her bill, and then, in a low\ntremulous voice, she told him the glad news. He was quite as much\npleased as she, although he did not appear so excited. Had employment\nin the open air given a firmness to his nerves, which her sedentary\noccupations had not done for her? Yet beneath that calm exterior, his\nsparkling eye plainly revealed the full tide of emotion within.\n\nIt was pleasant music to their ears to hear those four new voices in\ntheir secluded home; and though they knew it would increase their\nlabour to provide food for those gaping mouths, what cared they for\ntheir own comfort, if they could nurture their precious charge, and\nrear them to be an honour and a blessing?\n\nWhen the doors of their chambers were quite open, out came the\nbaby-birds, with a few downy feathers covering them!\n\n\"How very little they are!\" said Eddie, with one breath; and, \"How big\ntheir mouths are!\" with the next. To be sure, they do look very small,\nand their mouths are very large for such diminutive bodies, and they\nopen them so wide that it almost seems as if one of them could jump\ndown another's throat.\n\nThe robin now often comes home, and brings food to his family. It is\ngratifying to see how attentive he is to his dear children and their\nmother; and I hope I may be able, some day, to tell you that they\nrepay his attachment, by growing up fine, obedient birds. It will not\nbe long before their education will be commenced, and I will tell you\nwhether they are taught at home, or are sent away to school, and what\nprogress they make in acquiring their accomplishments.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nHOME LIFE AND HOME EDUCATION.\n\n\nThe birdlings still live in the honeysuckles.\n\n\"How they do grow!\" Eddie exclaims, when he looks at them. \"I\nshouldn't think they could ever have lived in those little eggs.\"\n\nThey are now almost half as large as the old birds. They are well\ncovered with feathers, and their mottled breasts are very pretty.\n\n\"They don't have to dress as we do,\" said Eddie. \"Their clothes grow.\"\nAnd he thinks it would be a great convenience if his clothes grew too,\nfor then they would always be large enough for him, and his mother\nwould not have so much sewing to do.\n\nSometimes these little birds lie in the bottom of the nest, quietly\nsleeping, while their father and mother are both away, getting them\nfood. At other times they feel wide awake. Then they stretch their\nwings, stand upon their feet, and peep over the side of the nest. From\nthe parlour-window, the children can look up directly at their\nsecluded home, and can see them amusing themselves and practising\ntheir lessons. The honeysuckle grows almost as fast as the birds, and\nthe tender, overhanging branches make a roof which keeps off all the\nrain.\n\nThe old birds are mindful of their children, but do not consider it\nnecessary to be with them all the time. So other parents endeavour to\nimplant good principles in the hearts of their children, and then\nleave them to their self-control; ever keeping a watchful eye on the\ninfluences which surround them, and using their proper authority, when\nit becomes necessary, to restrain from evil, and guide in the way of\nvirtue. The child that has never learned to depend upon himself, or to\ncontrol his own passions, and to do right because it is right, will\nhardly be able to sustain himself when the presence of his parents is\nwithdrawn.\n\nThe robins know very well that children grow weary of long lectures;\nso they give them here a little and there a little instruction, as\noccasion demands.\n\nThey are decided in their family government, but not severe. Their\nchildren are taught to obey promptly and cheerfully, but they have no\nslavish fear of their parents. Their presence is not regarded as a\nrestraint; for, at all suitable times, they have freely permitted\ntheir little ones to laugh and frolic to their hearts' content. They\nwillingly listen to all the plans of the birdlings, and lend an\nattentive ear to the story of their joys and their sorrows. Their\nsympathy is never withheld; their griefs are never considered as of no\nconsequence because they are brief and soon forgotten.\n\nThe parent birds do not leave their young alone but a little while at\na time. They often fly home to see them, and sometimes perch on the\nwalnut-tree, and talk with them. Their musical chirpings are pleasant\nto hear. We don't understand the bird-language; but we judge, by the\nsoft tones, that it is something kind and agreeable they are saying.\nPerhaps they are talking about their plans for the future, when they\nall know how to use their wings, and can fly about together.\n\nVery often, during the day, the robins bring worms to fill the gaping\nmouths. It is surprising how much they eat. No wonder they have grown\nplump and large, for they eat and sleep as much as they please. We\nexpect soon to see them flying about from tree to tree, and hopping\nalong the ground. We hope that great cat, which steps about so softly,\nwill never find them. She is welcome to all the rats and mice she can\nput her paws on, but we never like to see her climb a tree, for we\nfear she will destroy some of our cheerful friends, who build near the\nhouse in full confidence that they shall not be disturbed.\n\nThe young robins are not lonely in their rural home. The\nplainly-dressed sparrows and the brilliant yellow-birds look in upon\nthem, and, now and then, their cousin, the oriole, comes, clad in the\nrichest golden plumage, and sings them a song. If he had dipped his\nfeathers in the gorgeous sunset he could not be more beautiful. The\ndelicate little humming-birds sip nectar from the deep horns of the\nhoneysuckle; and the red-winged starling, in his glossy black coat,\nand his dashing scarlet epaulette, occasionally comes from his home in\nthe meadow, to make them a call. He does not like Honeysuckleville\nquite as well as his dwelling in the grass, just above the water. If\nhe was not so confirmed in his habits, I think he would be strongly\ntempted to become a neighbour of the robins. A few weeks ago, when his\nfavourite resort was five or six feet under water, he and his friends\nseemed to be in great uncertainty what course to pursue. They had\nseveral mass meetings on the quince-bushes, in full sight of\nHoneysuckleville, and a great many speeches were made. It sounded to\nme like incessant chattering, and as if all were talking at the same\ntime. I could not understand a word they said, and I cannot tell you\nthe result of their deliberations. Whatever it may have been, when the\nwater subsided, they returned to their old haunts by the river-side.\n\nThese I have mentioned are not the only visitors whose society our\nfriends enjoy. The swallows gracefully skim through the air, and greet\nthem with their merry voices. The wren often favours them with one of\nhis sweetest melodies, and the blue-bird flies around the corner to\nsing a song on the walnut-tree. He has a curious little nest of his\nown, hidden away under the eaves. The cat-birds, of course, are always\nnear, as they live in the lilacs. The oriole has suspended his nest,\nlike a basket, from a limb of the great pear-tree; and when the robins\nknow how to fly, they can return some of his visits.\n\nThe old robins, now and then, play peep with the young birds. They fly\nalmost up to the nest, and poise themselves for an instant on the\nwing, just long enough to say, \"Bo-peep!\" and then away! almost before\nthey can be seen. Pretty soon they return again, generally bringing\nsome nice morsel with them. They often first alight on a small branch\nof the vine, below the nest, and then hop up to it.\n\nWhat a chirping the birdlings keep up with their mother! They like to\ntalk as well as Eddie Dudley and some other children, whom I have\nheard pleasantly called little chatter-boxes. Children have much to\nlearn, and must ask many questions. The world is new and strange to\nthem, and is a constant source of surprise and wonder. I do not\nsuppose people ever learn faster than before they are six years old,\nor ever learn more in the same length of time. They are constantly\nobserving, and in this way the stock of their ideas is continually\nincreasing. I once heard a gentleman say he did not like to go\nthrough the world with his head in a bag. He wished to see what was\ntaking place around him, and it was this seeing, and thinking upon\nwhat he saw, that, among other things, made him a distinguished man.\n\nThe young birds are now seeing and thinking, as well as birds can.\nTheir time for action has not come. Like dear children in their happy\nhomes, they are preparing for the responsibilities of life; and, if\nthey honour and obey their parents, as far as birds are expected to\ndo, and as all children should, I doubt not they will faithfully\nperform the duties which will hereafter devolve upon them.\n\nFrom observations I have made, I conclude the robins neither send\ntheir children to school nor employ a governess for them. They have so\nmade their arrangements that either one or the other has time to\nattend to their education. Sometimes the father, and at other times\nthe mother, assumes the labour of teaching, and their dearly-loved\npupils are quite as attentive to their instructions as any children I\nhave ever seen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nGOING ABROAD.\n\n\nIt was on a bright, warm, breezy morning in early June, that our\nfriends at Honeysuckleville decided that the home education of their\nchildren had been attended with such success as to encourage the hope\nthat they would \"come out\" creditably to themselves, and their\nparents. Arrangements were accordingly made, and I assure you there\nwas much talking and no little excitement and bustle upon the\noccasion. It was proposed to spend some weeks in travelling, that the\nyoung people might enjoy themselves, and acquire much useful\ninformation, which could be obtained no other way.\n\nThe weather was delightful. A few light, fleecy clouds were floating\nin the blue sky, continually changing from one form of beauty to\nanother. The sun shone forth in his splendour, cheering the tender\ngrass and the up-springing seeds, and drawing them nearer and nearer\nto his bosom. They stretched toward him their feeble blades and\ndiminutive leaves, as if they would gladly be clasped in his arms; but\ntheir growing roots were striking deeper and deeper into mother earth,\nand binding them closer and closer to her.\n\nThe gentle, cooling zephyrs were playing among the leaves, and\nwinning sweet music from the tiny voices, which responded in glee to\ntheir salutations. Often they lifted the soft hair from the brows of\nthe children, and frolicked amid their curls, and fanned their\nsun-burnt cheeks. It was a morning which all nature enjoyed. There\ncould not have been a finer day to start upon a journey. As birds do\nnot need a change of dress, there was no trunk to pack, and no\ntravelling-bag to be laden with comforts. All the preparation\nnecessary was the usual attention to the toilet, and the instruction\nand advice which the exigency required.\n\nThe hearts of the young adventurers fluttered with excitement. There\nwas a mingling of curiosity to visit the great world of which they had\nheard such glowing descriptions, and of fears to trust themselves to\nthe power of their wings to bear them from their pleasant, happy home,\nand keep them out of harm's way. They had seen Pussy, as she walked\nabout in her white and black robe, and though she seemed so gentle,\nthey had been warned against her as one of their most deadly enemies.\nThey knew she was often prowling about, with stealthy tread, to prey\nupon the unwary. They feared that, instead of flying to the\nwalnut-tree, as was the plan, they should fall upon the grass, where\nshe could pounce upon them and destroy them, notwithstanding the\nscreams and agonizing entreaties of their parents. Puss is a full\nbeliever in the doctrine that \"might makes right;\" and she is as\nunmoved by the cries and appeals of her victims as if they had no\nhearts to suffer, and were made merely for her own use.\n\nMany words of encouragement were addressed to them by their parents.\nThey told them how they themselves had suffered from similar fears;\nhow difficult it was for them to trust implicitly in the wisdom of\ntheir own father and mother; and how they stood, tremulous and\nfearful, on the top of the nest, wishing they had sufficient\nresolution to obey, and yet fearing to venture; but how easy and\npleasant they found it to spread their wings in the air, and be borne\nup by it, when they fully determined to make the attempt.\n\nOur little birdlings still hesitated, just as I have seen children\nhesitate and quiver with terror when for the first time they go into\nthe water to learn to swim. They know their father tells them the\ntruth, for he has never deceived them. He has bound a life-preserver\nbeneath their arms, and has promised to remain near, to catch them, if\nthey begin to sink; yet they are afraid, and draw back. They lack\nfaith. When at last they timidly push from the shore, and find\nthemselves buoyed up on the water, their delight is almost unbounded,\nand they are as unwilling to leave as they were reluctant to enter it.\n\nThe old robins stood on one of the branches of the walnut-tree, and\nendeavoured to persuade their timid brood to come to them. They were\nnot stern and severe, for they had not forgotten their own youth, and\nthey sympathized deeply with these children; but the father found he\nmust be decided, so he told them, (as it seemed,) authoritatively,\nthat they must hesitate no longer. He would count one--two--three; and\nwhen he said three, they must spread their wings and do as well as\nthey could. The mother smiled lovingly upon them, and they determined\nto obey, whatever effort it might cost. \"One--two--three,\" counted the\nrobin, in his full, musical tones. The birdlings fluttered their\nwings, and strained every nerve to alight by the side of their\nparents. With what joy they felt their feet clinging round the branch!\nHow elated they were with their success! They chirped continually, and\nmerry and brisk was the conversation. \"What is this?\" one asked, and\n\"What is that?\" said another, till it seemed as if the old birds would\nbe weary of their questions; but they never lost their patience; they\nthought the little folks remarkably intelligent.\n\nWhen they were rested, away flew the birds to the elm, and called to\ntheir young. Grown courageous by success, they quickly followed, and,\nthrough the whole day, they were flying about from tree to tree,\nenjoying themselves highly.\n\nAt sunset, I saw them on the locust-tree, near the cottage, inhaling\nits delicious perfume, with their faces toward the west, wondering,\nperhaps, what occasioned all that glorious beauty, as the sun escaped\nfrom their view.\n\nPresently they flew to a great cherry-tree, and, from the chirping and\ncalling, we concluded they spent the night in its shelter. How strange\nit must have been to them, this first night of their perching! The sky\nwas clear, the stars twinkled, and the half-moon shed her silvery\nlight on the earth, and gleamed through the cherry-leaves, as it had\ndone through the honeysuckles; but it was not home, that cherry-tree,\nand they sighed as they thought of their birthplace. They sat close to\ntheir mother's side, and felt that, after all, where she was, was the\nbest place for them. They curled up one foot into the soft down, and\nturned back their heads till their bills were beneath their wings. The\nlids slowly closed over their eyes, and they slept quietly and\nsweetly, till wakened in the morning by the warbling of songsters who\nwelcomed the rosy dawn.\n\nA new sense of responsibility filled their hearts. They were no longer\nmere children, their every want supplied by others; but they were\nyouth, and must begin to provide for themselves, and depend upon their\nown energies. We frequently hear the young robins among the trees, but\nwe seldom see them. We really miss them, and think of them as\npleasant visitors who have been spending a few days with us.\n\nWe hope that Honeysuckleville will not be forsaken; but that every\nyear the birds will return, and rear their young beneath its fragrant\nshade, making hearts of the little Dudleys glad, and teaching them to\nlove.\n\n    \"All things, both great and small;\n    For the dear God who loveth us,\n    Hath made and loveth all.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"MAY I POP SOME CORN?\"\n\n\n\"May I pop some corn?\" asked Eddie.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered his mother; and laying down her work, she went to the\ncloset and got for him several small ears--some red and some\nwhite--the kernels of which where not half so large as those of common\ncorn.\n\nEddie took a white bowl and sat down on the carpet by his mother with\nthe tiny ears in his apron. He worked away for some time, shelling\nfirst one ear and then another, till every little kernel was in the\nbowl, and nothing but cobs left. These he thought would help to build\na \"log-house,\" so he put them in his play-box, with those he had\ntreasured before, and took his bowl to the kitchen.\n\nKate, the cook, was a coloured woman, and she loved children. When he\nsaid to her, \"Mother told me I might pop some corn,\" she cheerfully\nplaced the iron pan on the stove, and when it was hot enough, told him\nhe might put in the corn. Pretty soon it went Pop! pop! pop! till the\npan was filled with snow-white kernels. Eddie always wondered how they\ncould turn inside out and suddenly grow so large. He did not\nunderstand that it was because of the expansion or swelling of the air\nwithin the hard case, which then burst open to find more room.\n\n[Illustration: Eddie popping corn.]\n\nEddie was very busy for some time in the kitchen attending to his\ncorn. When it was all done, he separated that which was popped from\nthat which was only parched, and put it in different dishes. He gave\nhis dog Philo some of the brown kernels, and he seemed to like them as\nwell as Eddie himself. Eddie enjoyed hearing him crack them with his\nsharp teeth, and would stroke his great head, and say kindly, \"Poor\nPhilo! you are a good Philo;\" and the dog would wag his tail as much\nas to say, \"Dear Eddie! you are a good Eddie.\"\n\nAfter giving Philo his share, and Kate hers, Eddie carried up a large\ndishful to his mother and the children. He did not wish to eat it all\nhimself for he was a generous boy and always liked to have others\npartake of his pleasures, whatever they might be. He reserved some of\nthe nicest of it in a tumbler, which he placed on his mother's\nwork-table. Mrs. Dudley took a little, saying to him,\n\n\"If you miss your corn, Eddie, you will know what has become of it.\"\n\nHe looked up from his play quite soberly, and said slowly, \"Mother, if\n_you_ wish to eat more you may, but _I_ am not going to.\"\n\n\"Why not, my child?\"\n\n\"I am going to save it for father.\"\n\nMrs. Dudley was pleased to see Eddie willing to deny himself to give\nto others, so she said to him, \"That is right.\" When his father came\nhome from his business, Eddie placed the tumbler beside his plate on\nthe tea-table. After the blessing was asked, Mr. Dudley, looking at\nthe children, inquired, \"Where did this come from?\" \"I popped it,\"\nanswered Eddie. And his father thanked him with a kind and loving\nsmile.\n\nEddie was much happier than if he had eaten all the corn himself, for\nhe had made others happy by his generosity. \"It is more blessed to\ngive than to receive,\" the Bible tells us; and Eddie had been learning\nthis truth in the great pleasure he felt in dividing his popped corn\nwith others. I hope you who read this story know how to sympathize\nwith him. If you do not, will you try the experiment, and see if you\nare not far happier to share your corn, or your candy, or whatever\nelse you may have, with your brothers and sisters, and those around\nyou, than you are to devour it yourself? I have seen little chickens\nseize their favourite morsel and run away and hide where they could\neat it all alone; but I should be sorry to think that any child would\ndo so.\n\n\n\n\n\"WHICH WOULD YOU RATHER I SHOULD DO?\"\n\n\n\"Which would you rather I should do?\" asked Eddie of his mother, his\nlarge blue eyes filling with tears.\n\n\"I should rather you would stay with me,\" was the answer.\n\n\"Then I will, mother!\" and the tears remained where they were, and did\nnot chase each other down his plump cheeks. A trembling smile played\naround his mouth; for he had conquered himself, and had readily\nyielded to his mother's wishes. There had been a struggle, severe, but\nshort, in his mind, and when he said, \"Then I will, mother,\" he meant\nhe could be happy to stay at home, and would not ask again for\npermission to go with the other children. Mrs. Dudley could not resist\nthe impulse to clasp him to her heart, and tell him he was a good boy;\nand this made him still happier. He saw he had pleased her, and her\napproving smile was worth more to him than any enjoyment could be\nwithout it.\n\nEddie, you know, is a little boy, five years old. He has brothers and\nsisters older than himself, and they have fine sport in sliding and\nskating. Their teacher takes them every day to enjoy it, and they come\nhome in high spirits, swinging their skates by their sides, and\ntalking loud and fast about it.\n\nEddie has watched them many days from the nursery window, and has\nlonged to be with them; but his careful mother has feared he would get\nhurt among so many skaters, or perhaps be lost in one of those\n\"air-holes\" which are often found in the most solid ice; so when Eddie\nasked her if he might go to the river, she hesitated, for she did not\nlike to deny him. \"Which would you _rather_ I would do?\" then inquired\nthe dear boy; and when his mother told him, he did not tease her, but\nresumed his place at the window.\n\nMrs. Dudley resolved to go herself with her little son to the river,\nwhen the children went again. She did not tell him so, however; but\nthe next day, when the merry skaters were in the midst of their\nenjoyment, she put on her hood, and her warm blanket-shawl, and thick\ngloves, and calling Eddie to her, wrapped him in his wadded coat and\nwoollen tippet, and placing on his head his \"liberty-cap,\"--knit of\nred and black worsted, with a tassel dangling from the point--and\npulling it well down over his ears, and covering his fat hands with\nwarm mittens, they started out on the white snow. The snow was frozen\nsufficiently to bear them, and they had a pleasant walk above the\nhidden grass and stones.\n\nEddie was in great glee. His mother enjoyed it almost as much as he\ndid, for it was an exhilarating sight. Some of the boys were sliding,\nsome skating, and others pushing sleds before them, on which a mother\nor sister were sitting. It reminded one of the pictures we often see\nof skating in Holland; and, to make the resemblance more perfect, a\nDutchman was there with his pipe, defiling the pure, fresh air with\nits foul odour.\n\nMrs. Dudley was invited to take a ride, and, leaving Eddie in the care\nof another, she was soon seated on one of the sleds, and speeding away\nbefore a rapid skater. She found it far more swift and agreeable than\nriding in the usual way. Eddie, too, had a ride, and his little heart\nwas brimfull of happiness. He walked about on the ice quite carefully\nand fearlessly.\n\nThe river, on which these children were, rises and falls with the\ntide. Eddie saw other boys sliding off towards an icy meadow bordering\non it, and he thought he would go too. The ice formed an inclined\nplane; his feet slipped on its smooth surface, and down he went; he\njumped up, but the blood from his nose, flowing over his face and\ncoat, and staining the snow, frightened him, and he uttered a loud\ncry. The skaters were with him before his mother, though she was but a\nfew steps away, for she could not move as quickly as they. It was\npleasant to see their sympathy, and hear their kind inquiries. His\nmother soon comforted him; for he had not been cut by the ice as they\nfeared. The blood from his nose testified to a pretty hard bump. He\nsoon forgot the pain, and was as happy as ever. He will long remember\nhis first sled ride on the river.\n\nWhy do you think, dear children, I have told you this story about a\nchild whom you have never seen? I wanted to ask you, or rather have\nyou ask yourselves, if you are willing, as Eddie was, to do as your\nmother thinks best? Much as he wanted to go on the river, he felt\nsatisfied to do as his mother wished. I hope, when you know what your\nmother prefers, you will make up your minds to give up your own plans,\nand be happy in doing so.\n\nI am not one of those who imagine children have no trials. I know\ntheir lives are not all bright and sunny. I have not forgotten being a\nchild myself. Many a hard battle has to be fought with wrong feelings\nand wrong wishes; but never fear; resolve to conquer yourselves, and\nsubdue every thing that is sinful. Every victory will make you\nstronger, and render it easier for you to do right. Will you try?\n\n    \"If at first you don't succeed,\n        Try, try again.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRDS AND THE SNOW-STORM.\n\n\nThe weather is warm and sunny. The snow of winter has disappeared. The\ngrass is green, and growing finely. The early spring-flowers have\nopened their blossoms, and we all think summer is so near, that the\ncold weather must be over. The birds have thought so, too; for they\nare flying from tree to tree, singing most beautiful melodies, and\npeeping about, here and there, making arrangements for summer, and\nselecting places where to build their pretty nests.\n\nBut the wind blows chill again. The sky is clouded, and people begin\nto say, \"I think we shall have another snow-storm.\" It is not long\nbefore the feathery flakes begin to descend. The earth is so warm that\nthey scarce touch it before they are melted and absorbed. The snow\ncontinues to fall, the earth grows colder and colder, and soon it\ncannot melt the snow, but is itself chilled, and accepts it as a\nmantle. For three days the storm rages. The ground is as white as in\nmid-winter.\n\nWhat is to become of the birds? They can find neither food nor\nshelter. It is painful to see them flying distractedly through the\nstorm, not knowing where to go; but too cold and too hungry to remain\nin the trees, and too fearful to seek comfort in the many warm houses,\nthat would have opened their windows, if they would have entered under\ntheir protecting roof.\n\nMrs. Dudley's children are all watching them from the windows, and\nthrowing out hominy and bread-crumbs for them to eat. How cold the\nlittle sparrows look, as they pick up their food! Children's hearts\nare generally tender, and always so unless they have been hardened by\nthe practice of cruelty, and Mrs. Dudley's were full of sympathy for\nthe little sufferers. \"Oh! mother!\" said Eddie, the youngest, \"if the\nbirds knew how we loved them, they would come into the house;\" but the\nbirds did not know, and they stayed out in the snow, and many of them\nperished.\n\nThe children were sadly grieved, when, after the storm, they found\nmany of their feathered friends dead. How much they regretted they\ncould not have saved their lives! If the birds had only known, as\nEddie said, how much the children loved them, they would have flown\ninto the house, and been warmed and fed.\n\nThere are many dear children who do not know how much Jesus loves\nthem; how much he wishes them to enter the \"ark of safety,\" and escape\nthe dangers there are in the world. There are many who have not even\nheard of him; and many of those who have, do not know he is their best\nfriend.\n\nDo _you_ know how much he loves you, and have you sought his\nprotection amid all the dangers that surround you? If you have not\nfound refuge in that \"high tower,\" of which David speaks in the\nPsalms, you are no safer than were the birds flying through the cold\nsnow, and you surely will be lost if you do not fly to that kind\nSaviour, who has prepared a way of escape for you.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST STRAWBERRY.\n\n\nHow bright and red it looked, half-concealed as it was by the green\nleaves! It was the first strawberry of the season. Mary gathered it\nwith delight, and ran with it to her mother.\n\n\"Here is something for you, mother,\" she said, holding up the rosy\ntreasure.\n\n\"Thank you, my dear!\" said Mrs. Dudley, smiling upon her daughter. She\nate it with a double relish. She was very fond of the fruit, and she\nwas gratified by this expression of the thoughtful, unselfish love of\nher dear child.\n\nHow much more Mary enjoyed that look of love, and that approving\nsmile, than she would have enjoyed eating that luscious strawberry\nherself!\n\nEvery day, Mary, Willie, and Eddie search for the fruit as it ripens,\nand almost every evening their father and mother find a saucer of\nberries, with sugar and cream, beside their plates at the tea-table.\n\nHow pleasant it is to see children think so much of their parents! I\nhope they will continue obedient and attentive, for there is no more\nbeautiful sight than an affectionate, united family.\n\nGod will bless those who honour their parents.\n\n\n\n\n\"I PRAYED ALL DAY FOR HELP.\"\n\n\nIt was a beautiful evening early in June. The air was cool and\npleasant. The trees and shrubs were covered with luxuriant foliage,\nand the roses were in their opening beauty. The frogs were croaking in\nthe pond, and the birds singing on the trees. The sun had just sunk\nbeneath the horizon. The clouds which lingered around his pathway\nreceived his parting rays, and were most gorgeously decorated with the\nrichest of his colouring.\n\nWillie walked about the lawn, his face lighted up with a smile, and\nhis dark gray eye bright with happiness. His heart was attuned to\nharmony with all nature around him, and he would frequently look up to\nhis mother, who sat by the open window, enjoying the delightful\nevening. Presently Willie came, and stood by her side.\n\n\"How happy I am this evening!\" he said to her. She put her arm around\nhim, and drew him towards her.\n\n\"What makes you so happy?\" she inquired.\n\n\"Because I have been trying to control my temper, I suppose\"--was his\nanswer.\n\n\"You have not been angry to-day, have you?\"\n\n\"No, mother.\"\n\n\"Did you pray about it, Willie?\"\n\n\"Yes, mother. I prayed all day for help.\"\n\n\"How did you pray?\"\n\n\"I said, Forgive my sins, and give me a new heart.\"\n\n\"God heard your prayers, and he has helped you to control your temper.\nGod always hears prayer, and helps those who ask his aid. I hope you\nwill never forget to pray for what you need,\" said his mother. Willie\nsmiled, and kissed her, and went out of doors again to enjoy the\nevening--\n\n    \"So cool, so calm, so bright.\"\n\nWillie is generally a good boy, but he has a quick temper. When three\nor four years old, he would sometimes get very angry. I have even\nknown him to throw things at children with whom he was playing, if\nthey did any thing to offend him. He did so one day when his mother\nwas from home. She was much grieved when she heard it, and talked\nseriously with him. It made a deep impression on his mind. He speaks\nof it now with great solemnity, and asks his mother if she remembers\nit. He feels that he committed a great sin. He knows it is wrong to\nlet his temper govern his reason, and he is struggling to control\nhimself. I think he will succeed.\n\nI knew his grandfather when I was a little girl, and I remember\nhearing him say that he was naturally quick-tempered; but, although I\nlived in the same house with him, and saw him under a great variety\nof circumstances, I never heard him speak a hasty word. I hope Willie\nwill obtain as perfect control over himself, and, if he lives to\nmanhood, that his friends will be able to say of him what I can say of\nhis grandfather.\n\nWillie was, at one time, playing with some children, and found he was\ngrowing angry. He immediately left them, and sat down on the stairs\nalone. Pretty soon they followed him. He did not feel entirely\ngood-natured, so he again left them, and went into the library. He\nshut the door and prayed to his Father in heaven for strength to\nconquer himself. He remained there alone till he felt he had obtained\nthe victory.\n\nWillie is not the only little boy who has a quick temper, and I tell\nthis story about him for the sake of the dear children who sometimes\nget angry. I hope, like Willie, they will learn to go to God for help,\nand then, like his, their countenances will be radiant with gladness;\nand they, too, can say, \"How happy I am!\"\n\n\"An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in\ntransgression.\"\n\n\"He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that\nruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.\"\n\n\"He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like a city that is\nbroken down, and without walls.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"EVER SO MANY BEAUTIFUL THINGS.\"\n\n\n\"There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky, mother!\" said\nlittle Eddie, as he sat in his mother's lap, leaning his head upon her\nencircling arm.\n\nThe clouds had gathered about the horizon, and assumed many beautiful\nand fantastic shapes. Some of them were gorgeously coloured with the\nrays of the departing sun, and were shaded from the most delicate rose\nto the darkest, richest crimson. As the sun receded farther and\nfarther behind the green hills, they grew darker and darker, and the\nimaginative boy had seen fancied ships with their sails spread;\nsteam-vessels with clouds of smoke rolling from their chimneys;\nmountains piled upon mountains; trees, birds, and many other wondrous\nthings which filled his infant mind with admiration.\n\nSoon the stars twinkled forth, and they awoke a new interest. At first\nthey appeared one by one, as if timidly venturing to look down upon\nour beautiful planet, and when fully assured that the king of day had\ndisappeared, they came forth faster and more numerously, till the\nwhole heavens were bespangled with their glittering brightness. Then\ntheir companion, the moon, came slowly up, shining with a soft and\nmellow light, a new beauty in the \"blue wilderness of interminable\nair.\"\n\nEddie had long gazed silently before he uttered the exclamation,\n\"There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky!\" and I suppose\nhe had many thoughts which it would have been pleasant for his mother\nto know. He did not often sit up so late that he could see the stars.\n\nEddie is not the only one who has been charmed with the glowing\nsunset, the gray twilight, or the starry firmament. David loved to\nlook upon the works of God. In one of his psalms, he says, \"When I\nconsider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars\nwhich thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of him,\nand the son of man, that thou visitest him!\" It was astonishing to\nDavid, that God, who was so infinitely superior to man, and who had\ngiven such proofs of his power and greatness in the creation of the\nheavens, should condescend to notice him, to provide for his minutest\nwants, and to protect him from danger. I suppose this psalm was\nwritten in the night, when the sweet singer of Israel had been looking\nat just such a sky as drew from Eddie his exclamation of admiration.\n\nI often think, as I look abroad, how wonderful it is that God has made\nevery thing so beautiful. We need never be weary in studying his\nworks. The more we learn of them, the more we realize his greatness\nand perfection. \"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the\nfirmament showeth his handiwork.\"\n\nWhen you look at the clear blue sky, do you remember who has spread it\nout, and who has created the innumerable worlds which we see, when\ndarkness covers our earth? \"There are,\" indeed, \"ever so many\nbeautiful things up in the sky,\" and it was a Father's hand that\nplaced them there. They are for us to enjoy, and many a lesson of love\nand confidence have they taught God's children. Dear little Eddie! I\nhope he will always love nature, and early learn to \"look through\nnature up to nature's God.\"\n\nI shall never forget a drive with my father, when I was a child so\nsmall that I sat on a little footstool in the carriage, between him\nand my mother. We were returning from a visit to Aunt Harriet, at\nwhose house we had been spending the day. It was a fine evening. The\nair was balmy and pleasant. I remember how the frogs sung in the low\nground, and how we listened to their quaint music. We had not ridden\nfar before the moon rose, and the stars, one by one, appeared. My\nfather had a true love for nature, and for whatever was beautiful or\ngrand. We drove on without speaking for a time, each enjoying the\nevening. My father broke the silence by repeating that beautiful hymn\nof Addison's, commencing with these lines--\n\n    \"The spacious firmament on high,\n    With all the blue ethereal sky,\n    And spangled heavens, a shining frame,\n    Their great Original proclaim.\"\n\nI was awed by the reverence of his manner, and I felt myself in the\npresence of my Maker,--a mere speck amid his vast creations. An\nineffaceable impression was made on my mind, young as I was. My father\ndied many years ago, while I was still a child, but the lesson of that\nhour has not been forgotten.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLILY AND HER DUCKLINGS.\n\n\nThe white duck, Lily, made a nest on the ground, in a small enclosure,\nfrom which some tame rabbits had been removed. She gathered the\nscattered straw into one corner, and made a much neater nest than the\nother ducks did, who laid their eggs under the wood-pile among the\nsmall chips.\n\nShe laid several large, smooth, white eggs, and when she had as many\nas she could conveniently take care of, she began to sit on them to\nkeep them warm, till the little ducks should be ready to peck their\nway out. She plucked the soft white down from her breast, to line the\nnest, and to make it of a more even temperature for the eggs; and,\nwhenever she left to procure food, or to take a short swim on the\npond, she carefully covered them.\n\nThe duck cannot spread her wings as wide as the hen, so she has to be\nmuch more particular about her nest. She makes it deeper and warmer\nthan Biddy. It is wonderful with what skill all animals rear their\nyoung. It shows the great goodness and kindness of God, that he should\nthus fit the creatures he has made for the duties they must perform.\nHis care is continual, not only over us, but over them all. He hears\nthe young ravens when they cry, and the ducks and the chickens are not\nforgotten by him. To the duck he has not given the brooding wings of\nthe hen-mother; but he has given her a coat of down, from which she\ncan make a warm bed for her cherished eggs.\n\nIt was a very pretty sight to see Lily on her nest, almost covered by\nthe straw, her head turned back, and her broad yellow bill partially\nhidden beneath her wing. The down lay scattered about like\nsnow-flakes. She looked patient and hopeful, as she opened her eyes to\nsee who had intruded on her solitude.\n\nWhen a sitting-duck goes in search of food, she acts so queerly that\nyou would surely laugh to see her, if you are not accustomed to her\nodd ways. She bends her head back, and draws it close to her body, and\nwaddles about in the greatest haste, quacking all the time.\n\nLily waited four weeks before the ducklings appeared. Some of the\nbrood were of a straw-colour, and some were marked with spots of\nblack. They were all pretty. When I first saw them, they were partly\nhidden beneath their mother. Their glossy bills and bright eyes were\nvisible, but they were afraid to venture from their shelter. They were\nprovided with water and food in the old rabbit-house, because, if they\nfollowed their mother to the pond, the musk-rats would probably devour\nsome of them.\n\nWhile the little ones remained with their mother, they were safe, but\nwhen they became discontented, and wandered from home, they were\nsometimes lost. The rats were their principal enemies, and those from\nwhich they had most to fear. They were constantly lurking about to\ncatch the ducklings, and sometimes the defenseless little ones ran\ndirectly into their deep holes, from which there was no possibility of\nescape. Quite a number of Lily's family came to an untimely end in\nthis way.\n\nWhen I saw them roving about in the high grass, seeking in vain to\nfind their way to their mother's presence, and hearing their calls for\nhelp, and her answering cry of distress, I could but think of the dear\nchildren who forget their mother's counsel, and leave her protection\nbefore they are old enough to take care of themselves.\n\nThe ducklings, I observed, did not know who were their friends; for,\none day, when the prettiest of the brood had found a way out of the\nrabbit-house, I thought I would catch it, and give it back to its\nmother. It was much alarmed, and Lily was in equal trouble. It ran\naway from me, thinking, perhaps that I was a greater enemy than the\nrats, against which it had probably been warned. Just as I was going\nto put my hand on it, it hid itself in a rat-hole, from which there\nwas no escape. I could not rescue it, neither could its mother. The\nnext morning, when I went to look at the ducks, and give them their\nbreakfast, there lay the poor duckling, close by the fatal hole. The\nrat had brought it out, and partly devoured it.\n\nChildren often think they know what is best for them quite as well, if\nnot better, than their parents, and when told not to do this or that,\nthey are not satisfied to obey quietly, but ask, \"Why not?\" I think\nchildren may often be told why they are bidden to do this, or\nforbidden to do that; but they should obey their parents promptly,\nwhether they know their reasons or not.\n\nSometimes there are reasons which children cannot understand,\nsometimes there are reasons which it would not be wise to tell them,\nand sometimes it is not convenient to give the why and the wherefore.\nChildren are commanded to obey their parents,--not the reasons their\nparents may give them. The young ducks could not understand why their\nmother did not wish them to go out of that enclosure. They could not\ncomprehend the dangers which surrounded them. They saw the birds\nflying about in the air, and heard the hum of the bees as they were\ngoing abroad for honey, or returning loaded to the hive, and they\ncould not understand why they might not wander about too. The red\nclover looked very beautiful, and the white clover was so fragrant,\nthey longed to ramble in it. They thought their mother unnecessarily\nstrict, because she wished to keep them with her, instead of\npermitting them to see all the pretty things of which they could now\nand then catch a glimpse, as they peeped through the cracks of the\nrabbit-house.\n\nChildren sometimes feel unpleasantly because they are not permitted to\nplay in the street. Ah! they are as ignorant of danger as the poor\nducklings and they are too young to understand the peril to which they\nare exposed. Even if their mother should explain it to them, they\ncould realize but little about it. It is by far the better way for\nchildren to feel that their mother knows best, and to be satisfied\nthat her reasons are good and sufficient even if they do not know what\nthey are.\n\nI once heard a distinguished clergyman say he had always observed that\nthose persons who had learned to obey their parents promptly, most\nreadily yielded to the claims of God, and became converted, while\nthose who had always liked their own way had generally a long, severe\nstruggle, before they were willing to give up their sins, and\noftentimes could not make up their minds to do so, and, though deeply\nconvicted, remained impenitent.\n\nIt is a fearful thought that, if you form a habit of disobedience to\nyour parents, it may cost you the salvation of your soul.\n\n\n\n\nPRAYING FOR RAIN.\n\n\nIt was the first of July. There had been no rain for several weeks.\nEvery one feared there would be a drought. The farmer looked anxiously\nupon his fields of corn, whose deep green leaves had not yet begun to\nturn yellow, and upon the potatoes, whose blossoms were still\nunwithered. They could not long remain thus beautiful and thriving, if\nthe refreshing rain was withheld. The ground was so dry that, in\nhoeing the garden, no moisture could be observed.\n\nMrs. Dudley talked with her children about the need of rain, and the\npropriety of praying to our heavenly Father to water the earth, that\nit might \"bring forth and bud,\" and \"give seed to the sower, and bread\nto the eater.\" She told them how Elijah prayed for rain, after there\nhad been none in the land of Canaan for three years and six months,\nand how God heard his prayer, \"and the heaven gave rain, and the earth\nbrought forth her fruit.\"\n\nThis great drought was a judgment upon the people of Israel for their\nsin in departing from God, and worshipping idols. There had been, in\nconsequence of this want of rain, a \"sore famine.\" We read in the\nbook of Kings of one poor woman, who had only a handful of meal in a\nbarrel, and a little oil in a cruse. When Elijah met her, and asked\nher for water, and a morsel of bread, she told him this was all she\nhad, and that she was gathering two sticks, that she might bake it for\nherself and her son, that they might eat and die! She know not where\nto find any more food for herself or her child, and expected to \"pine\naway, stricken through for want of the fruits of the field,\" and to\ndie with hunger.\n\nElijah bid her not to fear, but go and do what she had said. He asked\nher to make him a little cake first, and bring it to him, and\nafterwards make one for herself and son. \"For thus saith the Lord God\nof Israel, the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse\nof oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth rain upon the earth.\"\n\nIt would not have been strange, if this widow of Zarephath had been\nunwilling to divide her handful of meal with Elijah, or if she had\ndoubted the promise which was made to her, but she did not. She baked\nthe little cake for the stranger, and afterwards one for herself and\nher boy, and there was plenty of meal and of oil left for another\nrepast. \"She, and he, and her house, did eat of it many days.\" The\nbarrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, till the\nLord sent rain upon the earth, and her wants could be supplied in the\nusual way. She did not lose the reward promised to those who give a\ncup of cold water to the friends of God.\n\nGod does not willingly afflict the creatures he has made. He is a\ngracious God, merciful, and of great kindness, and has compassion even\non the beasts of the field. When Jonah complained that he spared\nNineveh, because its inhabitants humbled themselves before him, and\nturned from their evil way, after having sent him to prophesy to them\nthat in forty days it should be overthrown, he said to Jonah, \"Should\nI not spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than six-score\nthousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and\ntheir left; and also much cattle?\"\n\nIn this long drought in the land of Canaan, the cattle must have\nsuffered greatly, and many of them probably perished. Indeed, we read\nthat Ahab, the king of Israel, and Obadiah, the governor of his house,\nsearched the land for the fountains and brooks, to find grass to save,\nthe horses and mules alive, that they might not be all lost.\n\nGod is a Father, and, like a tender, loving father, he removes his\nchastisements so soon as they have produced the effect designed. He\nwas \"grieved for the misery of Israel.\" He told Elijah he would send\nrain. The prophet went to Ahab, who, when he saw him, asked, \"Art thou\nhe that troubleth Israel?\" Elijah answered, it was Ahab, and his\nfather's house, who troubled Israel, because they had forsaken the\ncommandments of the Lord, and worshipped Baalim.\n\nElijah went up to the top of Mount Carmel, and earnestly prayed for\nrain. God had promised that he would send it, and Elijah no doubt\npleaded this promise, as he interceded with him. He directed his\nservant to go where he could look towards the sea. He went and looked,\nand said, \"There is nothing.\" Elijah was not discouraged. He knew God\nwould remember his promise, and he sent him seven times more. The\nseventh time the servant returned, and said, \"Behold, there ariseth a\nlittle cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.\" It grew rapidly\nlarger and larger, till the sky was black with clouds and wind, and\nthere was a great rain.\n\nJames, in his Epistle, says, \"The effectual fervent prayer of the\nrighteous man availeth much,\" and he mentions this instance of\nprevailing prayer in Elijah, as an encouragement to all Christians to\nask for needed blessings. \"Elijah was a man subject to like passions\nas we are,\" he tells us, and if he prevailed with God, so may others.\nGod is the \"same yesterday, to-day, and forever.\" He does not change.\nHe is always a hearer of prayer.\n\nMrs. Dudley also told her children that God hears the cry of all who\nare in distress. She referred to one of the psalms of David, where he\ndescribes a storm at sea, and the great terror of the sailors. \"Then\nthey cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivers them out of\ntheir distresses.\"\n\nGod does not forget any creature he has made. He provides the springs\nand the streams to give drink to the beasts of the field, and to the\nbirds which sing among the branches. He causes the grass to grow for\nthe cattle, and herb for the service of man. He feeds the fowls, and\nclothes the flowers with beauty. He has taught us to ask for our daily\nbread, and as this must depend upon fruitful seasons it is proper we\nshould ask for rain, whenever it is needed.\n\nThe children were quite interested in what their mother had told them.\nThey knew that she earnestly desired rain, and that she often asked\nGod to send it, before vegetation perished for want of it. They\nwatched the sky with great anxiety, and when it became cloudy, and\ncontinued so from day to day, they thought surely a storm was near.\nAfter several days, there was a slight shower, but not enough to\nrefresh the plants. Mary was greatly disappointed \"I thought,\" (she\nsaid to her mother,) \"it was going to rain in answer to your prayer.\"\n\n\"I thank God for that little rain,\" said Eddy, as he talked about it.\nMrs. Dudley told him that was right, but they ought to pray for more,\nit was so much needed.\n\nThe next Sunday Mrs. Dudley was not well, and could not attend\nchurch. When her children returned she asked Mary if they prayed for\nrain. \"No, mother!\" she answered; \"but I did.\"\n\nThe sky continued cloudy for some time, and then the rain gently fell\nfor a day and a night, and all nature was refreshed and cheered.\n\nSoon afterwards I left Mrs. Dudley's family. When I had been absent\nabout a fortnight, I received a letter from Mary. She told me about\nthe bantams, and the flowers, and many other things in which I was\ninterested. She wrote that it had \"rained on Sunday, and all day\nMonday. I cannot help thinking,\" she continued, \"how good God is to\nsend us rain when we most need it, and what cause we have for\nthanksgiving.\"\n\nI hope Mrs. Dudley's children will never forget that God is the giver\nof every good gift, and that he likes to have people ask him for what\nthey need. Children should think of God as their best friend, and\nshould go to him in prayer, feeling as sure he can and does hear them,\nas they are that their mother does. In a season of drought they should\nask him for rain, and when he sends it to make vegetation grow, they\nshould thank him for that evidence of his loving-kindness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GRAPE-CLUSTERS.\n\n\nVery beautiful were the grape-clusters as they hung on the graceful\nvine, and very tempting to the hand that was near enough to pluck\nthem.\n\nTwo little boys came on an errand to the lady who lived in the house\nwhich the grape-vine shaded. It was reviving to come out of the city's\nheat and dust, and enter that pleasant parlour, screened from the\nfiercer rays of the summer's sun by its green curtain of leaves. The\nhot pavement and the glaring walls of the city seemed far distant, for\nthe charm of the country was spread over that retired room. All city\nsights were shut out, and peace and quiet reigned within.\n\nThe lady was sitting at her desk, writing, when the boys entered. She\nspoke to them kindly, for they were objects of her kind care, although\nthey did not live with her. They handed her a note which required an\nanswer. She gave them permission to play in the yard, while she should\nwrite it. They were very happy, for it was an unusual pleasure for\nthem. They examined the flowers which grew in the narrow bed by the\nhigh, close fence, and then they began to look wistfully at the\nrich bunches of grapes, which were within their reach. The lady had\nnot told them that they might gather any, and they felt that they\nought not to do so. But the tempter was near, and they listened to his\nsuggestions.\n\n[Illustration: The lady was sitting at her desk writing, when the boys\nentered.]\n\nLooking towards the house to see if they were observed, they\ncautiously went up to the vine, and each gathered a bunch of grapes.\nThey ate them secretly, that they might avoid detection; but although\nthey knew it not, there was an eye in the house that saw them, and\nthere was another eye from which their act was not hid--the eye of the\nall-seeing God.\n\nWhen the note was written, the boys were recalled to the parlour, and\npleasantly dismissed. I think they must have felt somewhat ashamed,\nthat they had abused the confidence reposed in them, and had been\nguilty of stealing from their kind friend.\n\nAfter they left, the lady was informed what they had done. When she\nvisited \"the home,\" where they lived, she mentioned the fact to their\nteacher, although she did not allude to it to them.\n\nThe teacher took occasion to talk with her scholars about being honest\nand trustworthy, and asked them what they should think of children\nwho, when sent on errands and permitted to go into the yard to enjoy\nthemselves, should stealthily take the fruit which grew there. They,\nof course, condemned such conduct. She gave them the instruction they\nneeded, and endeavoured to impress its importance upon their minds.\n\nSoon after the close of the school, the two boys who had taken the\ngrapes went to her and told her what they had done. She talked with\nthem kindly. They seemed truly penitent. She asked them if they would\nlike to go to the lady and acknowledge their fault. They said they\nshould, and immediately they put on their straw hats, and their clean\nsacks, and went cheerfully to make all the reparation in their power\nfor the fault they had committed. Confession is always pleasant to the\ntruly penitent.\n\nAgain they stood in that shaded parlour. They were affectionately\nwelcomed as before. They confessed freely and fully, what they had\ndone on their previous visit, and asked forgiveness, which was readily\ngranted. Just as they were leaving, they turned and inquired, \"Can you\never trust us again?\" The lady assured them that she could, and they\nwent away happy and strengthened in their good purposes.\n\nFrom that time there has been a marked change in the children. Their\ncharacters have much improved and they have been, in all respects,\nmore conscientious and trustworthy. One of the boys has, I think,\nfound a Christian home, and the other is waiting for one.\n\n\n\n\n\"IT ALMOST MAKES ME CRY.\"\n\n\n\"It almost makes me cry to think of the heathen,\" said Willie Dudley,\nas he was standing by his mother's work-table, with his elbow leaning\nupon it, and his head resting upon his hand. \"I don't wonder\nmissionaries go to them.\" His face was thoughtful and sad, and the\ntears stood in his eyes.\n\nHe had just been looking at two hideous idols, which had been brought\nfrom Africa, and his mother had been telling him that the heathen\nthought they were gods, and prayed to them.\n\nLittle Eddie wondered that any people could think these stone images\nwere God. His large, blue eyes looked larger and rounder than ever,\nthey were so filled with amazement at what he heard. He could only\nsay, \"Oh, mother! oh, mother!\" in tones which indicated surprise,\npity, and horror.\n\nMrs. Dudley told her children that the heathen had not been taught, as\nwe have, that God is a spirit, and that they had never learned the\ncommandment, \"Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any\nlikeness of any thing that is in the heaven above, or that is in the\nearth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; thou shalt\nnot bow down thyself to them, nor serve them; for I, the Lord thy\nGod, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the\nchildren unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me;\nand showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my\ncommandments.\"\n\n\"I don't wonder that the missionaries go to them,\" was the sentiment\non the mind of Willie, as he thought of the ignorance and degradation\nof the heathen. He loved, himself, to hear about God, and our blessed\nSaviour, and he knew that God required a pure and spiritual worship.\nHe knew God was the Creator of the world, and that his power and glory\ncould not well be represented or conceived by man. He had often heard\nof the heathen, and had read about their idols, but to see and handle\na stone head which had been actually an object of religious worship,\nmade it seem much more real to him than ever before, that there are\nmany people who have never learned to worship the true God.\n\nWillie has always had a great reverence for his heavenly Father.\nSeveral years ago, he was reading a description of one of the idols of\nthe Hindoos. The picture was disgustingly repulsive. He went to Mrs.\nDudley with his book, saying, \"Mother, I don't like to call g-o-d God\nhere; I want to call it d-o-g, for I don't think it is right to call\nsuch a thing by that great name.\"\n\nPerhaps Willie will some day be a missionary, and preach the glad\ntidings of salvation to those who are now sitting in darkness, and in\nthe shadow of death. But if he is not a missionary himself, I trust he\nwill never forget to do what he can for those who, far from their\nhomes and their friends, are fulfilling Christ's last command, to \"go\ninto all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.\"\n\nAll Christians cannot be missionaries, but they can all do something\nto spread a knowledge of true religion throughout the world. They can\ncontribute of their property to this noble purpose. Our heavenly\nFather accepts the smallest gift, offered in love. We, surely, who\nlive in comfortable homes, and are surrounded by so much that is\npleasant, should never forget those who, in foreign lands, are\npreaching the \"unsearchable riches of Christ.\"\n\nIf our Saviour were now upon the earth, I suppose dear children, you\nthink it would be a great pleasure to minister to his wants, and\nprovide him with food or clothing, or any thing he might need. It is\ndelightful to know that what we do for those who love him, he accepts\nas done to himself. In his Holy Word he says, \"Inasmuch as ye have\ndone it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it\nunto me.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOY WHO STEALS.\n\n\nMrs. Dudley was sitting at her dining-table. The dessert was before\nher. There were fine, red water-melons, rich and juicy, with glossy\nblack seeds peeping out from their hiding-places, and musk-melons,\nfragrant and luscious, which grew in her own garden. They had been\ngathered early in the morning, by George and Willie, and placed in the\ncellar, that they might be cool and refreshing. The boys had assisted\nin planting them in the spring, and with their little hoes they had\nworked about them during the summer, and subdued the weeds. They had\nwatched their growth, and every day they examined the vines to find\nthose that were ripe. They carefully gathered them, and sometimes\nthere were so many that their wheelbarrow was quite full. Then they\nhad the pleasure of carrying some to their neighbours. Mrs. Dudley did\nnot consider good ripe fruit injurious, but much more healthy, in\nsummer, than meat, puddings, and pastries, so that melons formed quite\nan important part of the family dinner. The children enjoyed them\nparticularly, because they had raised them, in part, by their own\nindustry.\n\nGeorge asked to be excused from the table. Not long after he left,\nMrs. Dudley heard a cry, as if some child was in trouble. She looked\naround. Mary, and Willie, and Eddie were there. The sounds of distress\ncould not come from George, for he never cried in that way. Mr. and\nMrs. Dudley immediately arose and went out upon the lawn. The children\nfollowed. They looked here and there, and soon saw a boy near the\nhouse. He had a small bundle in his hand, and a little tin pail. I\nshould think he was ten or eleven years old. He was crying, and\ncalling to a boy who stood at the gate. Mr. Dudley inquired of him,\n\n\"What is the matter?\"\n\n\"John won't let me go home.\"\n\n\"How does he prevent you? What does he do to you?\" asked Mrs. Dudley.\n\n\"He won't let me alone.\"\n\n\"Does he try to make you fight?\" she again inquired,--for she had\nfrequently seen that large boys often love to tease and torment\nsmaller ones, and she thought perhaps this little fellow was abused by\na tyrannical companion. She thought of going to speak to the boy at\nthe gate, but Mr. Dudley made further inquiries, and the child's\nanswers were not very satisfactory.\n\nMary Dudley now came near her mother, and, speaking in a low voice,\nsaid to her, \"That is the boy who steals.\"\n\nWhile they were talking with him a larger boy came up, and said his\nteacher had sent him and the boy at the gate to take Jimmy back to\nschool.\n\n\"Why, what has he done?\" asked one of the group which surrounded him.\n\n\"He has been stealing the children's dinners. He stole yesterday, and\nhe has been stealing to-day.\"\n\nThis was a sad account to hear. Jimmy begged to be permitted to go\nhome, but Mr. Dudley told him he had better return to the school. He\nthen very reluctantly walked down to the gate with the largest boy,\nand I suppose was led back to his teacher.\n\nMrs. Dudley had never heard of this child before, but Mr. Dudley said\nhe had known him as a very bad boy. She asked Mary how she happened to\nknow any thing about him. Mary told her that he attended\nSunday-school, and that, a few Sundays before, one of the children\ncould not find his cap. A thorough search was made for it, but it\ncould not be found. The superintendent thought some one must have\ntaken it. He suspected Jimmy, because his reputation was so bad, and\nfollowed him on his way home. Jimmy had it on his head, and his own\ncap was hidden under his sack!\n\nThe superintendent of the school talked with Jimmy, who said he would\nnever steal again; but, alas! he soon forgot his good resolution.\nAlthough he carried a dinner for himself in his tin pail, he took\nwhatever he liked from the baskets of his companions.\n\nMrs. Dudley has seen this boy several times since she heard him crying\non the lawn. She says it always makes her feel sad to meet him, for\nshe cannot avoid thinking,--\"that is the boy who steals.\" She has\nlearned that he has no father or mother, but lives with his\ngrandparents. I fear he \"will bring down their gray hairs with sorrow\nto the grave.\" He has allowed himself to steal small things, and as he\ngrows older he will probably take articles of more value. He may\nbecome a housebreaker or a murderer.\n\nIt is dangerous to indulge in the least sin. It hardens the heart, and\nstifles the whisper of that still, small voice, which so often tells\nchildren, when they are tempted to do wrong, \"That is not right; you\nshould not do that.\"\n\nIn some Catechism the question is asked, \"What is my duty to my\nneighbour?\" and a part of the answer is, \"To keep my hands from\npicking and stealing.\" I suppose \"picking\" must mean, secretly taking\nlittle pieces of cake, or sugar, or any thing of the kind, of small\nvalue. I presume Jimmy was in the habit of \"picking,\" at his\ngrandmother's before he ventured to steal at school.\n\nI could tell you several very sad stories of people who have stolen\nwhen they were children, and who have grown more and more wicked, as\nthey have advanced in years, till they became a curse to society and\nthemselves. \"The way of transgressors is hard.\" These people have no\ntrue enjoyment. There is always a fearful looking forward to the\nfuture.\n\nIt is not pleasant to me to write about bad children, and I should not\ndo it if it were not to warn the dear children I so much love against\nthe formation of wrong and sinful habits.\n\nHow much better it would be for Jimmy if he had learned to \"touch not,\ntaste not, handle not,\" that which does not belong to him!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLOOK AT THE BIRDS!\n\n\nOctober, with its golden and crimson hues, its \"gentle wind,\" and its\n\"fair sunny noon,\" has passed away. November has come. The sun shines\nbrightly, and the sky is almost clear of clouds; but the chill wind\nblows roughly, and the leaves are rudely torn from the trees where\nthey have gladdened us through the spring and the summer by their\nrefreshing shade, their modest beauty, and their sweet music, as they\nsung to the gentle breeze which played amid the branches. They lie\nnow, most of them, beneath the trees, wrinkled and faded, or scattered\nhere and there, far from their fellows, wherever the cold blast has\nwafted them.\n\nThe birds have been taught by their unfailing instinct that summer has\ndeparted, and winter is near. They no more warble their rich melodies,\nor flit in and out of the bowery recesses of the honeysuckles or peep\nwith knowing look under the eaves, or into the arbour. Other purposes\nprompt to other acts, and they are taking their farewell of the\npleasant summer haunts, where they have built their nests and reared\ntheir young.\n\nThis morning, soon after sunrise, Willie was standing on the lawn,\ncontemplating the beauties of nature, and thinking, I suppose, of the\nchanges of the seasons, when all at once I heard him shout, \"Look at\nthe birds! Look at the birds!\" We threw open the window, and there\nwere thousands and thousands of them almost over our heads. Their\nwings made a noise like the rushing of a steam-engine as it cleaves\nthe air in its speed. They were calling to each other with a short,\nquick sound. It seemed as if they were giving and receiving orders. We\nwatched them till they disappeared over the tree-tops.\n\n\"There are more! There are more!\" shouted Mary. We again looked\ntowards the rising sun, and up over the eastern hills came another\nimmense flock, calling to each other as the first, and they too\ndisappeared behind the western hills.\n\n\"There is another flock!\" and so indeed there was. Up from the meadows\nand over the hills they came, swaying up and down in their flight, and\nso near that we could see each bird distinctly. Almost simultaneously\nthey alighted on Clover Hill to rest for a moment. I can never forget\ntheir motion so full of grace and beauty, waving and undulating like\nthe gentle swell of the ocean. Soon, another company followed in the\nsame direction, and when they were over Clover Hill, up flew the\nothers, and away they went with them beyond our sight. Flock after\nflock appeared, each taking the same general direction, and some of\nthem so large that they stretched from the hills which bounded our\nview on one side, as far as our eye could see on the other. They\nlooked, as Willie said, like bees swarming, only they were much\nlarger. Occasionally a few stragglers could be seen, hurrying on to\njoin their party, which was in advance of them. Perhaps they had\ndelayed to take a last farewell of their pleasant summer homes, or,\nmay be, they were dilatory in their habits, and did not make their\nmorning toilet in season. I hope they will be more prompt in future,\nfor it is a bad habit to be late, and occasions, often, much vexation\nand inconvenience.\n\nI never before saw so many birds together, although I have frequently\nbeen startled by the peculiar sound made by large numbers flying in\ncompany, and have looked at them with wonder and admiration.\n\nThe migration of birds is one of the most remarkable phenomena in\nnatural history. \"The stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times,\nand the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of\ntheir coming,\" and so do all birds of passage. Their Creator has\nendowed them with a wonderful instinct, which, in some way, unknown to\nus, teaches them to guard against the severity of the season by\nseeking a warmer climate, and when \"winter is past,\" and \"the flowers\nappear on the earth,\" and \"the vines, with the tender grape, give a\ngood smell,\" then \"the time of the singing of birds is come,\" and\ntheir voice is heard in our land. Some of them return, not only to the\nsame country, but to the same place, where they have previously built\ntheir nests, and, year after year, raise their broods in the same\nfriendly tree.\n\nIt is said that, to enable birds to fly with ease, and to continue\nlong on the wing, they must fly against the wind. I observed, this\nmorning, that there was a brisk wind from the west, while the birds\nwere flying a little south of west. Perhaps they had been waiting\nseveral days for a favourable wind, and that may have been the reason\nof the great number of flocks we saw.\n\n\"Behold the fowls of the air,\" said our Saviour, in his sermon on the\nmount; \"for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns,\nyet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than\nthey?\" At another time, when he was talking with his disciples about\nthe persecutions they should endure for his sake, he said to them,\n\"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not\nfall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your\nhead are all numbered. Fear ye not, therefore; ye are of more value\nthan many sparrows.\"\n\nNot one of that immense number of birds, which we saw flying to a\nwarmer country, can perish without God's knowledge. He sees every one\nof them. During the summer, he has fed them on the meadows near the\nsea-shore, and now that winter is approaching, he has taught them to\nseek other localities, where their appropriate food can be found.\n\nWhenever God's children are tempted to yield to despondency, and to\nfear that they shall suffer from want, let them remember that they are\nof more value than many sparrows, and that if they trust their\nheavenly Father, their bread shall be given them, and their water\nshall be sure. He who feeds the birds will feed them. May he\n\n    \"Fill\" our souls \"with trust unshaken\n    In that Being who has taken\n    Care for every living thing,\n    In Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOST CHILD.\n\n\nIt was a Sabbath morning in November, clear, bright and frosty. Mrs.\nDudley's family were preparing for church. They heard Carlo bark\nviolently, and knew a stranger must be near. Carlo is a faithful\nwatch-dog, but his habit of barking at visitors is so disagreeable,\nthat he is usually kept chained in the day-time. On Sunday, as no\ncompany is expected, he is permitted to go at large. When Mr. Dudley\nheard Carlo, he immediately threw open the window, and spoke to him.\nHe saw a gentleman, who was evidently much alarmed. None of the family\nknew him. The stranger soon made known the occasion of his call, by\ninquiring,\n\n\"Have you seen any thing of a stray child?\"\n\n\"No, we have not; whose child is lost?\"\n\n\"Mr. McPherson's.\"\n\n\"How old is the child?\"\n\n\"About six years old. His mother sent him from home, yesterday, about\ntwo o'clock, and she has heard nothing from him since. He had a small\ntin pail with him to get some yeast.\"\n\nIt is sad to hear that a child is lost, and all the family sympathized\nwith the anxious parents. \"How badly you would feel if I was lost!\"\nsaid Eddie, and he looked sober and grieved, as he thought of the\nlittle boy about his own age, who had wandered from home, no one knew\nwhere. There was much fear that he had fallen into the river, as he\nhad been seen on the dock.\n\nAt ten o'clock the family started for church. They met people who were\nsearching for the child, and who asked them, as the gentleman had done\nat the house, \"Have you seen any thing of a stray child?\"\n\nNotice was given in the churches that a boy was lost, and many a\nmother's heart beat quicker as she thought of her own dear little\nones, and imagined one of them sleeping, perhaps, through that cold\nNovember night on the ground, or (fearful thought!) buried deep in the\nchill water.\n\nAfter church, you could hear one and another inquiring anxiously, \"Has\nthe child been found?\" But no favourable answer was received. In the\nafternoon, however, many hearts were gladdened by learning that he was\nsafe. He had gone to the village, and got his pennyworth of yeast, and\nthen, instead of returning immediately, he stopped to play with some\nboys. He had gone with them to a part of the village with which he was\nnot acquainted and when he wished to go home, he did not know what\ndirection to take. He chose a road leading him from home, and wandered\nat least five miles. Just before dark an old gentleman and his\ngrandson were walking on the road, and they observed this little boy\ncrying.\n\n\"What do you suppose he is crying about?\" said the child to his\ngrandfather.\n\n\"I don't know. Perhaps he has been sent to the grocery, and does not\nlike to go.\"\n\nThey watched him and found he did not stop, but passed on with his tin\npail, crying grievously. They waited for him to come up to them, and\nasked him,\n\n\"What are you crying about?\"\n\n\"I want to go home!\"\n\n\"Where is your home?\"\n\nThe boy could not tell.\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"William Hudson.\" He did not say, as he should have done, William\nHudson McPherson.\n\nThe old gentleman kindly took him by the hand, and led him to his own\nhome. William's tears were soon dried, and he became quite contented.\nIt was too late to attempt to find his parents that night, as he could\nnot tell where they lived, and the name of Hudson was not familiar to\nthe good people who had given him shelter.\n\nWhen Sabbath morning came, William was questioned again and again,\ntill at length some clue was obtained of his father's place of\nresidence. The horse was harnessed, and William, with lame and\nblistered feet, was placed in the wagon. About noon he safely reached\nhome, and was clasped once more to his mother's heart. The father had\nnot returned from his search, and he afterwards said, it had seemed to\nhim that he never could go home without his child, on account of the\nterrible and almost frantic distress of the mother. As he approached\nhis house, borne down with grief, he saw a wagon at the door. His\nheart leaped with joy, for he thought the lost one was found. He\nopened the door hopefully, and there, indeed, was William gathered\nonce more with his brothers and sisters around the great\ncooking-stove, tears of joy flowing down the grateful mother's cheeks.\n\nAll this great grief which William's father and mother endured--all\nthe anxiety felt throughout the town--and all the sufferings of the\nboy himself, were occasioned by William's stopping to play, when he\nought to have gone directly home!\n\nChildren often think they are quite as capable of judging for\nthemselves, as their parents are for them. Sooner or later this\nopinion will lead them into trouble. William thought it was safe to\nstop and see the boys play marbles, but he found, to his sorrow, that\nit would have been far better to have resisted temptation and denied\nhimself the short pleasure he enjoyed.\n\nEvery human heart is grieved when a child like William strays from\nhome. We do not wonder that his mother should be fearfully anxious in\nregard to his fate. But, oh! how much more bitter tears a loving\nmother sheds, when her dear ones stray from the path of virtue, and\nbecome disobedient and wicked! I hope none of the children who read\nabout William will go astray from the right path, but will ever choose\nthat which is pure and lovely and of good report, and which, through\nthe grace of God in Christ Jesus, will safely lead them home to\nheaven.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNPLEASANT NEIGHBOUR.\n\n\nEddie's father has a disagreeable neighbour. In one way or another he\nis a constant source of annoyance. Sometimes his pigs will creep\nthrough the fence, and root up the smooth green lawn. His part of the\nfence he will not keep in repair, and the hungry cows, in search of\nfood, will break into the garden, and make sad havoc among the\ncabbages and other vegetables. His fine bay horse, whom he knows will\njump over any ordinary fence, is permitted to run in a pasture, where\nhe can eke out his scanty meal by a hearty lunch among Mr. Dudley's\ncorn. All these aggressions, and many more, have been borne with the\ngreatest patience.\n\nMr. Dudley has often been advised to resort to the law as a means of\ndefence, yet he has been reluctant to do so. The children have\nsometimes felt very indignant when they have been obliged to chase the\npigs or the cows out of the yard or field, but their parents have\nendeavoured to teach them Christian forbearance.\n\nAt one time Eddie had been thinking about Mr. Morrison,--for by that\nname I shall call the unpleasant neighbour,--and he said very\nseriously to his mother,\n\n\"Mother, can Mr. Morrison go to heaven if he dies.\"\n\nShe hesitated a moment how to answer him, for, she had taught him that\nit is wicked to lie and to swear, and that if a person loves God he\nwill not be in the habit of committing such sins; so she told him,\nthat unless Mr. Morrison repented he could not go to heaven.\n\nAt another time Eddie and his mother were talking about God's love for\nthe beings he has made. She told him that God loves every one.\n\n\"Does he love Mr. Morrison?\" he inquired.\n\n\"Yes, God loves Mr. Morrison. He is grieved and offended by his\nwickedness, but he loves him. You know I love you, when you have done\nwrong, although I am sorry that you have been naughty. I do not cease\nto love you. The Bible tells us that while we were sinners, God so\nloved us as to send his Son to die for us. He loves all, and wishes\nall to repent and believe in Christ, and be happy. He has provided a\nway for all who believe to be saved, and it is only because people\nlove sin more than they love holiness, that they are lost.\"\n\nNothing can give us a higher idea of God's love, than the thought that\nhe loves every one--even his enemies. \"God is love.\" What a blessed,\nglorious thought! How it encourages us to trust him at all times!\n\nGod does not willingly afflict, nor grieve, nor punish any one. All\nthat he does, he does from the truest love.\n\nThe knowledge that God loves us should lead us to love him. We are\nnaturally disposed to love those who love us, and always do, unless\nthere is something repulsive about them. There can be nothing\nrepulsive about God, for he is love, and we who love him, love him\nbecause he first loved us.\n\nOne night, after little Eddie had repeated the Lord's Prayer and his\nusual evening petitions, he raised his head, and said to his mother,\n\n\"Shan't I pray for Mr. Morrison, now?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear, if you wish to,\" she answered.\n\nHe bowed his head again, and uttered a simple prayer for the man who\nwas the occasion of so much trouble and perplexity to his father's\nfamily. He prayed that God would forgive his sins for Jesus' sake, and\nmake him a good man. It was very pleasant to hear Eddie pray thus, and\nto witness his kind and forgiving spirit.\n\nMr. and Mrs. Dudley have often regretted that the children should have\ntheir early memories saddened by such a neighbour, but perhaps their\nheavenly Father wishes to teach them a lesson of forbearance and love\nfor those who injure them, which they could not so well learn in any\nother way.\n\nOur Saviour, when dying on the cross, taught us practically the duty\nof forgiveness. He prayed even for those who put him to death.\n\"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.\" Do you not\nsuppose he was pleased to hear Eddie ask his Father in heaven to\nforgive Mr. Morrison and make him a good man?\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOY WHO KEPT HIS PURPOSE.\n\n\n\"I would not be so mean,\" said George Ward to a boy who stood by,\nwhile he put the candy he had just bought in his pocket.\n\n[Illustration: \"I wouldn't be so mean.\"]\n\n\"You have no right to call me mean,\" replied Reuben Porter, \"because I\ndon't spend my money for candy.\"\n\n\"You never spend it for any thing,\" continued George, tauntingly.\n\nIt was true. Reuben did not spend his money. Do you suppose it was\nbecause he loved it more than other boys do?\n\nReuben turned slowly away, meditating upon what had occurred.\n\n\"I will not care for what George thinks,\" he at length said to\nhimself; \"I have four dollars now, and when I have sold my cabbages, I\nshall have another dollar. _I shall soon have enough_,\" and his heart\nbounded joyfully, his step recovered its elasticity and his pace\nquickened, as the pleasant thought removed the sting which the\naccusation of meanness had inflicted on his sensitive spirit.\n\nEnough did not mean the same with Reuben as it means with grown\npeople. It had a limit. He hastened cheerfully home, or to the place\nhe called home. He had no father or mother there, but kind and loving\nfriends in their stead. His father had died two years before, leaving\na wife and four children without property to sustain them. Reuben was\nthe eldest, and as he was old enough to assist in the labours of a\nfarm, it was thought best he should leave his mother. Mr. Johnson, a\nneighbour took him into his family, where he soon became a great\nfavourite.\n\nThere was one thing about the child, however, which good Mrs. Johnson\nregarded as a great fault. It was what she called \"a spirit of\nhoarding.\" She said she never gave him an orange, or an apple, that he\ndid not carry it to his room, instead of eating it. Perhaps his\nsisters at home, or dear little brother Benny, could tell what became\nof them.\n\nMrs. Johnson had noticed, too, in his drawer, a box, which was quite\nheavy with money. She did not believe he had bought so much as a\nfish-hook, since he had been in their family. If he should go on in\nthis way he will grow up to be a miser. Mr. Johnson smiled at his\nwife's earnestness, and remarked that with such an example of\ngenerosity as Reuben had constantly before him, he could not believe\nthe child was in much danger from the fault she feared. \"It must be\nremembered,\" he said, \"that Reuben has his own way to make in life.\nHe must early learn to save, or he will always be poor. There are his\nmother and sisters, too, who need his aid.\"\n\nIn various ways Reuben added to his store. When the snow came, he made\nnice broad paths about the house, which so attracted the notice of a\nneighbour, that she asked if he might be allowed to make paths for\nher. He rose early that he might have time for this extra work, and\nwas well paid for his efforts. The box grew heavier from week to week.\n_Reuben had almost enough._\n\nOne day there was a barrel of flour left at Mrs. Porter's. She thought\nthere must be a mistake about it; but the man said he was directed at\nthe store to take it to that house. Mrs. Porter went immediately to\nlearn about it, and what was her surprise on finding her son had been\nthe purchaser. How could he pay for a whole barrel of flour? \"The\nmoney,\" said the merchant; \"he brought in a box. It was in small bits,\nwhich took me some time to count, but there was enough.\"\n\nThe mother called, with a full heart, at Mrs. Johnson's, and related\nwhat had occurred. Reuben wondered why his mother should cry so. He\nthought she would be happy. He was sure he was happy. He had been\nthinking two years of that barrel of flour, and now he felt more like\nlaughing than crying.\n\nThose tears, noble boy, are not tears of sorrow, but of the deepest,\nfullest joy. You are more than repaid for your self-denial. You have\npersevered in your determination. You have resisted every temptation\nto deviate from the course which you marked out as right. You have\nborne meekly the charge of meanness so galling to your generous\nspirit, and now you receive your reward. You are happy, and so is your\nmother, and so are your kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.\n\nThat night, Mr. Johnson remarked to his wife, as they sat together\nbefore the cheerful fire, that he had some idea of keeping the little\n_miser_ and educating him. \"A boy who could form such a purpose, and\nkeep it, will, in all probability, make a useful man.\" After-years\nproved the correctness of this conclusion. Reuben is now a man of\nintelligence and wealth. He is one whom the world delights to honour;\nbut among his pleasantest memories, I doubt not, is that of the barrel\nof flour he bought for his beloved mother.\n\n\"Filial love will never go unrewarded.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nMARY'S STORY.\n\n\nMary and Eddie had retired to their little beds. Their mother had said\n\"good night,\" and had given them both a kiss. She was just leaving the\nroom, when Eddie said to his sister,\n\n\"Now you can tell me about Jesus.\"\n\nThis simple remark revealed to Mrs. Dudley the subject of their\nconversation after she left them for the night. It gave her great\npleasure, for she desires nothing so much as that her children may\nlove the Saviour, and she knows the more they think about him, and the\nmore they learn of his life, the more they will find him worthy of\nlove. Mrs. Dudley offered up a silent prayer to her heavenly Father\nthat the Holy Spirit would teach them and guide them into all truth.\n\nShe did not remain with the children to hear them as they talked\ntogether, but a few days afterwards she asked Eddie what Mary told him\nabout Jesus. He repeated the history of his birth, of the cruel\npersecution of Herod, of his blameless life, and his death upon the\ncross.\n\nEddie is too young to realize much about the great love of Christ,\nand how much he has done for us that we may be happy, but he is not\ntoo young to love him.\n\nI hope he will never forget the sweet story Mary told him. Jesus loves\nlittle children. He is their best friend, always ready to forgive them\nwhen they are sorry for doing wrong, and to help them when they try to\ndo what is right.\n\nEven now, as I am writing, I hear children singing\n\n    \"There is a happy land\n    Far far away.\"\n\nThe sound grows fainter and fainter--eyelids are drooping--sleep is\nnear--the voices are hushed--the little ones are slumbering. May \"holy\nangels guard their bed.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SUNNY FACE, AND THE SHADY FACE;\nOR, JUNE AND NOVEMBER.\n\n\n\"How happy I am to-night! I love you so much I want to be with you all\nthe time,\" said Willie to his mother, as he followed her from the\ndining-room to the nursery, one stormy evening.\n\nWhat made Willie so happy? It was not because the day had been\npleasant, and he had been permitted to enjoy himself out of doors, for\na chilling snow had been falling, and Willie had been obliged to\nremain in the house. It was not because he was well, for many hours of\nthe day he had been lying on the bed too ill to sit up all the time.\nIt was not because he had received a handsome present, for none had\nbeen given him.\n\nThere had been nothing unusual to make him so happy, excepting a\nthought hidden in the secret recesses of his heart. Shall I tell you\nwhat that thought was, that made his face so bright and sunny, that\nmade his eyes sparkle, and wreathed his lips with smiles? I will tell\nyou in his own words, and I hope you will treasure it in your heart.\nIf you do, your face, too, will be cheerful and smiling, and your\nfriends will love to look upon you.\n\nWhen Willie told his mother how happy he was, she put her arm around\nhim, and drew him lovingly to her side. \"What makes you so happy?\" she\ninquired.\n\n\"I suppose it is because I have been trying to be good,\" he answered.\n\n\"That always makes people happy,\" his mother replied.\n\nWillie is generally a good boy, but he sometimes does wrong, and\nwrong-doing always makes him sad. It was a great pleasure to him that\nhe had tried to be good, and had been enabled to overcome temptation.\n\nAll children are sometimes tempted to do wrong, and it often requires\na severe struggle to decide to do right. But every child who overcomes\nevil feels a conscious happiness and self-respect in so doing. I hope\nyou will \"try to be good.\" If you do, and look to Christ for strength,\nhe will aid you, and through his grace you will be able to become\nconqueror over the sins that \"so easily beset you.\"\n\nHenry Maxwell lives in the same town with Willie, and is of the same\nage. These boys often play together. I regret to be obliged to say\nthat Henry is not so good a child as Willie. He does not so promptly\nobey his mother, and of course he cannot be so happy. Sometimes he\npouts out his lips, when his mother wishes him to do something which\nhe does not exactly like.\n\nI one day heard his mother talking to him about his teeth. She wished\nhim to brush them again, as he had not done it thoroughly the first\ntime. It was astonishing to see how that fair, round face was\ndisfigured by that ugly pout, and it was sad to hear his dissatisfied\n\"I don't want to.\" When his mother insisted on obedience, Henry\nreluctantly complied with her wishes, closing the door behind him with\ngreat violence.\n\nHis face was not sunny and bright like Willie's, when he had tried to\nbe good, but was dark and shady, like a clouded sky. It was not\npleasant to look upon, and it made the heart of his mother heavy and\nsad to see it. I hope Henry will learn to be cheerful and prompt in\nhis obedience to his mother, for, if he should not, the expression of\nhis face will grow more and more disagreeable, till, when he is a man,\nit will look more like a chilly day in November, than a sweet,\ngladsome day in June.\n\nI do not wish you should tell me, but I should like to have you ask\nyourself, when you have read about these two boys, which of them you\nare most like. Is your face sunny, or shady?\n\n\n\n\n\"IT ISN'T FAIR. I PEEPED.\"\n\n\nWillie and Eddie were playing Hide the Button. After they had played\nsome time, and it was Willie's turn to find it, he came into the\nnursery with his face flushed, and evidently much excited. \"It isn't\nfair,\" said he, and the tears gathered in his eyes, and his lips\nquivered with emotion, \"I peeped. Eddie must hide it again;\" and he\nwent out of the room, for Eddie to put the button in another place.\n\nWillie had been overcome by temptation. He had done a dishonourable\nact, but his conscience was quick to reprove him, and he had listened\nto its admonitions. There had been a short but severe struggle in his\nmind, and truth and honour had conquered. He was brave enough to\nconfess his fault, and to do what he could to make amends for it.\n\nMrs. Dudley was not at home, but a friend who had charge of the\nchildren told her the circumstance. It rejoiced her greatly that her\ndear boy should have had the manliness to acknowledge his error; and\nit encouraged her to hope that he would never be guilty of a similar\nfault again. Willie is a conscientious boy. He sometimes does wrong,\nas in this instance, but when he reflects, he is always sorry.\n\nMrs. Dudley did not say any thing to Willie about the occurrence; but\na few evenings afterwards as she was sitting at the tea-table alone,\nthe others having all left, he came to her and stood by her side,\nleaning his elbow upon the table, and resting his head upon his hand.\nShe knew by his manner and his serious look that he had something in\nparticular to say to her. She put her arm around him and drew him\nclose to her.\n\n\"Mother,\" said he, \"the other day, when you were gone, I peeped while\nEddie hid the button;\" and then went on and told her all about it.\nMrs. Dudley talked with him a short time, and said he had done right\nin confessing his fault, and in refusing to profit by his wrong act.\nShe knew he was much happier than he could have been if he had done\notherwise. \"He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso\nconfesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.\" Willie found the\nhappiness of an approving conscience; and I doubt not that Jesus\nlooked down with love upon him, as he does upon all true penitents.\n\"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.\"\n\nIf Willie had not confessed his fault, and been sorry for it, his\nconscience would have been hardened and he would probably have\n\"peeped\" another time, when the children played the same game. But\nnow, if he should be tempted in this way again, he would remember how\nmuch he suffered in consequence of having once yielded to a similar\ntemptation, and would not allow himself to commit the wrong.\n\nIt is very important that children should early learn to confess their\nfaults, and not form the habit of endeavouring to hide them from\nothers. If they have injured any individual, they should apologize to\nthat individual. Sometimes it is only necessary to confess to God, but\nwe should not be satisfied with doing it in a general manner. Each\nwrong act, so far as we remember it, should be mentioned.\n\nIf we really love our heavenly Father, we shall wish to tell him all\nabout ourselves. We shall have no desire to conceal any thing from\nhim, and it will be a pleasure to us to think that he knows every\nthought and feeling of our hearts.\n\nWillie had no wish to conceal from his mother the wrong he had done;\nhe preferred to tell her about it; and I have no doubt he had\npreviously told his Father in heaven.\n\n\"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our\nsins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRYSALIS.\n\n\n\"O mother, look here! What is this?\" exclaimed Eddie, as he was in the\ngarden with his mother and Mary and Willie. He was standing by a tall\npole, around which a Lima bean-vine had wound itself. He had been\ngathering the great dry pods in a basket to preserve them for winter,\nwhen his grandmother would come to Clover-Hill to see her dear\ngrandchildren. His attention had been attracted by something peculiar,\nand he immediately called his mother to come and see it. Mary and\nWillie ran to look. Mrs. Dudley found it was a beautiful green\nchrysalis, suspended by its silken cords to the vine. The colour was\nsoft and delicate, and it was ornamented with a black line, and with\nbright golden spots.\n\n\"Isn't it pretty, mother?\" \"How did it get here?\" and many more\nquestions were rapidly asked, while the little folks carefully\nexamined it.\n\nMrs. Dudley told them what it was, and that if they preserved it, they\nwould in a few days see a butterfly escape from it. Eddie looked up\nastonished. She also told them that it was once a worm, crawling\nabout upon the earth; that it had climbed up, and suspended itself\nunder the shelter of the leaves, to await its change into a new and\nmore attractive form of being.\n\nMrs. Dudley took the chrysalis from the vine and carried it to the\nhouse, and put it on the mantle in her room. Every day the children\nlooked at it to ascertain if there was any change. Soon the colour\nbegan to fade, and the delicate pea-green became an ashen white. Then\nit opened slightly, where there had from the first seemed to be lines\nof division, and they could peep in at the imprisoned insect. The\nopening became wider and wider, and one day, when Eddie came into the\nroom and went as usual to look at the chrysalis, the shell was empty!\nThe butterfly had escaped. He uttered an exclamation of mingled\nsurprise and disappointment. As he turned his head, he saw, on the\nlittle cotton muff of Mary's doll, the butterfly for which he had so\npatiently watched.\n\n\"Here it is, mother!\" he shouted in the most joyous tones, and his\neyes sparkled with delight.\n\nEddie and his mother observed it for some time. Its long, slender legs\nrested on the muff, and ever and anon it would open and close its\nbrilliant wings, as if to try their power, or to dry the miniature\nfeathers which adorned them. Its colour was a rich orange, shaded from\nthe lighter tints to the deeper, and variegated with stripes of black.\nThe children examined it with a microscope, which made it appear even\nmore beautiful and wonderful than before.\n\nIt remained on the muff several hours, and then flew to the window,\nand alighted on the curtain. At evening, it was found on the cushion\nof a spool-stand, and there it passed the night. The next day it\ndisappeared, and the children saw it no more. It probably flew away\nthrough the open window, to enjoy its brief life under the smiling\nsun.\n\nThe children talked much about the transformations which had taken\nplace in the life of that caterpillar. Their mother told them that the\nbutterfly was sometimes considered a type of immortality. In this\nworld we are, like the worm, in an inferior state of existence. Our\nbodies are laid in the grave, but _we_ are not dead, any more than the\nunmoving chrysalis--which remained so long on the mantel just where it\nwas placed--was dead. The spirit still lives, and, after it has freed\nitself from the imprisoning flesh, is more beautiful than before, and\nis susceptible of more perfect enjoyment in the pure atmosphere of\nheaven.\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS AT THE COTTAGE.\n\n\nMrs. Dudley's children look forward to Christmas with many\nanticipations of pleasure, for several weeks before it comes. They are\nquite busy in preparing for it. Their mother is the repository of\ntheir secrets, and assists them by her advice in making their\narrangements. Many important deliberations take place about mats,\npin-cushions, and bookmarks.\n\nAs the day approached, the children often expressed the wish that it\nwas here. A few days was a long time for them to wait. But time did\nnot hasten. The hours were just sixty minutes, and the minutes just\nsixty seconds. The clock ticked on as usual. It was unmoved by all the\nexcitement, and never, for an instant, quickened its pace.\n\nWhen Saturday came, their mother proposed that the presents should be\ndistributed that evening. She did not like to have the children wish\nthe Sabbath past, and on Monday morning there would be but little time\nto make their arrangements before the hour for school. She knew they\nwould be quiet and happy if they had some new books to read, and\nwould be perfectly willing to lay aside other gifts till Monday.\n\nMary wished to decorate the parlour with evergreens. Mrs. Dudley sent\na man to get some for her. She and Willie arranged them in bunches and\nwreaths. Eddie helped all he could, and was as happy as any of them.\nIn the afternoon their mother assisted them. She put the bunches made\nof the delicate, feathery hemlock, and the dark glossy laurel, over\nthe windows, and suspended the wreaths where the bay-windows projected\nfrom the room. Small branches of cedar and spruce were tastefully\narranged in vases, relieved by the rich, green leaves of the ivy, and\nthe bright, lively twigs of box.\n\nThe children wished for a Christmas tree, but the evergreens they had\nwere all too small for that purpose Mrs. Dudley suggested that the\nhat-stand might be substituted. They were delighted, and immediately\nbusied themselves in adorning it with garlands. It proved quite\nornamental, and the pegs served a very useful purpose. Mary arranged\non some strips of white paper the words, \"A merry Christmas.\" The\nletters were made of the small leaves of the box, and were fastened on\nwith gum-arabic. These were placed amid the wreaths on the transformed\nhat-stand.\n\nWhen all these arrangements were completed to their satisfaction,\nthey left the room. Mrs. Dudley remained some time longer. When she\nleft, the door was locked.\n\nMr. Dudley returned from the city, where he had been spending the day,\nbringing some friends with him. Tea was speedily despatched, and then\nall the family were summoned. The parlour door was unlocked. There\nwere various toys, baskets, and reticules suspended on the hat-stand.\nThere was a nice little felt hat for one of Mary's dolls, and a\nlooking-glass for the baby-house, and an embroidered cushion, which\nWillie's industrious fingers had made for Minnie Dudley, as the doll\nis called--a far better employment for him, I think, than throwing it\nabout and treating it roughly, as I have sometimes heard of boys\ndoing. There were humming-tops, which reminded me, by their music, of\nthe great spinning-wheel that whirred away in my mother's kitchen when\nI was a child. There were graces, and battle-doors, and jack-straws\nfor the amusement of the children when it was too cold or stormy to\nplay out of doors.\n\nOn a table was an array of slippers, which Mary and her mother had\nwrought for father and the boys. There was merry capering when they\nwere transferred to the feet of their owners. I shall not tell you\nwhether Mr. Dudley so far forgot his dignity as to partake of the\nexcitement, but I am quite sure he was much gratified by the present\nMary had made for him with her own hands, and that he kissed his\nthanks with great fondness.\n\nMost valuable of all to the little folks, and most gladly welcomed,\nwere the books. How eagerly they looked them over.\n\nThere was a present to Mrs. Dudley from her children, which I must not\nforget to tell you about. It was a plain gold pin, in which, neatly\nplaited, were six bunches of hair. One of them was dark, streaked with\ngray--the others were auburn, flaxen, and brown. She knew whence the\ntreasures came to unite in that beautiful mosaic, and the tears were\nready to start from her eyes as she received that precious token of\nfamily love.\n\nWhen I was a child, I heard little about Christmas. It came and went\nwithout my knowledge. But I enjoy the return of it very much now, and\nsympathize with children in the interest with which they regard it. I\nlike to think they are treasuring up such cheerful memories to make\ntheir early home attractive to their age.\n\nThe little Dudley's will always like to look back to this pleasant\nevening, and wherever they are, their hearts will warm more fondly on\naccount of it to their father's cottage, nestled in the valley, and\nthey will be in less danger of forgetting the lessons of love and\nkindness they have learned there.\n\n\n\n\nI WILL CONQUER MYSELF.\n\n\nIn one of the oldest towns of New-England there lived, many years ago,\na little girl, whom I shall call Helen Earle. Her father had been\nengaged in the East Indian trade, and had accumulated great wealth.\nHer mother was a sweet, gentle woman, who most tenderly loved her\nchildren, and endeavoured to correct their faults, and develop their\nexcellencies. In Helen's home there was every comfort and every luxury\nthat heart could desire, but she was not always happy. She had one\nfault, which often made herself and her friends very unhappy. It was\nthe indulgence of a violent temper. She would allow herself to become\nexceedingly angry, and her usually beautiful face was then disfigured\nby passion. Her mother was greatly grieved and distressed by these\noutbreaks of ill temper, and did all in her power to restrain them.\nShe talked with her daughter earnestly in regard to the sin of such a\ntemper. Helen would weep bitter tears, and express much regret for the\npast, but she could not quite make up her mind to determine to\novercome temptation. The task seemed too difficult, and she shrunk\nfrom the attempt.\n\nMrs. Earle shed many tears in secret over this sad failing in her\nbeloved child, and most fervently pleaded for help from Him who had\ngiven her the care of this immortal spirit to educate for eternity.\nShe knew that God alone could change Helen's heart, and give her power\nto overcome sin, even though assaulted by the fiercest temptation.\n\nOne day, when Helen was very angry at something which had occurred,\nher mother led her up stairs to her own room and left her alone. For a\ntime she cried violently, then she grew calm and quiet, and her mother\ncould hear her walking back and forth across the room, talking to\nherself. She listened. How her heart rejoiced when she heard her\nrepeating, again and again, \"I WILL CONQUER MYSELF! I WILL CONQUER\nMYSELF!\"\n\nAnd Helen did conquer herself. She had come to the determination, not\nthat she would try to conquer, but that she would conquer, and, by the\ngracious help which is always given to those who ask,--she nobly\nsucceeded. From that hour she was able to overcome the temptation, and\nwas not overcome by it. She grew up to womanhood remarkable for the\nevenness and gentleness of her temper. None, who had not known her in\nchildhood, would have suspected that she was not always thus mild and\nlovely.\n\nHelen did for herself what no earthly friend could do for her. By the\npower of her will she controlled her impulses, and this triumph was\nof far more value to her than all the wealth of her father. It made\nher a blessing to her friends, strengthened all her good purposes, and\nenabled her to perform the duties of life without the friction which a\nbad temper always occasions. It gave her that true self-respect which\nelevates the character, and which none can feel who are not conscious\nof the power to rule their own spirits.\n\nNo child is blamed for having a quick temper, but he is blamed if he\nallows himself to be overpowered by it. If he really determines, as\nHelen did, to conquer himself, he will succeed. The old proverb,\n\"Where there is a will, there is a way,\" will never fail in such a\ncase as this. \"God helps those who help themselves,\" and he is ever\nready to assist us in subduing what is wrong in our own spirits.\n\nThe Bible contains many passages which condemn anger: \"He that is soon\nangry, dealeth foolishly.\" \"Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry,\nfor anger resteth in the bosom of fools.\" \"Make no friendship with an\nangry man, and with a furious man thou shalt not go.\" \"He that is slow\nto wrath is of great understanding, but he that is hasty of spirit\nexalteth folly.\" \"Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow\nto wrath; for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.\"\n\nAll habits grow stronger by indulgence. If you allow yourself to\nbecome angry to-day, you will more easily become so to-morrow. If you\ncontrol your temper to-day, it will be less difficult to control it\nto-morrow. Helen's victory was obtained by decision. To form the\ndetermination to conquer herself required more effort of will and more\nstrength of character than any subsequent struggle with her besetting\nsin could possibly require.\n\nIf you have any fault which you wish to correct, you must fully make\nup your mind to succeed. You must resolve that you will conquer. If\nyou should occasionally be overcome, yield not to despair, but with\nrenewed courage try again.\n\n    \"On yourself and God relying,\n    Try, keep trying.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSELFISH ELLA.\n\n\nElla Russell is a little girl with soft, flaxen hair, bright eyes, and\na complexion fair and clear. She is neat and orderly in her habits,\nand is very gentle and mild in her manners. Her musical laugh\nsometimes rings through the house like a sweet melody. It is so\ncontagious that you would laugh yourself to hear it.\n\nElla is obedient, and needs as little care as any child I ever knew.\nHer father is living, but she has no mother, and Ella lives with a\nMrs. Lindsley, who has three daughters, two of them older and one\nyounger than Ella. She is much attached to this lady, and feels\nperfectly at home in her house.\n\nElla's mother was in feeble health several years before her death.\nElla was her constant companion, and nothing gave her more pleasure\nthan to wait upon her and do all in her power to relieve her\nsufferings and make her more comfortable. Mrs. Russell said her\ndaughter was an excellent nurse, although she was not more than seven\nor eight years old. It shows how much even small children can do for\nthe comfort of their invalid friends, if they really try. It is very\ngratifying to a mother to have a child so careful and thoughtful, and\nElla and her mother loved each other more and more every day. Mrs.\nRussell's disease was consumption, and she could not be restored to\nhealth. Poor Ella, how lonely she felt when her mother died! She was\nyoung to know so much sorrow.\n\nElla's home is not far from the city. Her father often goes there, and\nfrequently sends her some delicacy which he knows she would relish--a\nbox of early strawberries, or a basket of plums or peaches, or\nwhatever fruit may be in season. Mr. Russell is exceedingly generous,\nand he expects his little daughter to divide the fruit with the family\nwhere she has found so excellent a home.\n\nElla, good child as she is in most respects, has one sad fault. She is\nselfish. When she receives any rarity she would prefer to eat it\nherself, just as the chickens do when they have found a nice tit-bit.\nIt is really a trial to her that she cannot eat a whole basket of\npeaches before they would spoil! Indeed, one day, after receiving such\na present, she said to a person in the family, \"I wish my father would\nnot send so many. I like it better when I have only a small basket,\nand can keep it in my own room.\"\n\nAt one time Mr. Russell sent a basket of peaches to Mrs. Lindsley.\nElla was not at home. She had gone out to make a call on some of her\nfriends. She heard this basket had been sent, and hastened back as\nsoon as she could. \"I hope they haven't eaten up all my peaches!\" was\nher first exclamation. She was quite indignant to find the basket had\nbeen opened.\n\nMrs. Lindsley gave her all she considered it safe for her to eat; but\nElla was not happy. She felt as if they all ought to be hers, and she\nreally cried about it. A day or two after Ella saw her father, and he\ntold her the peaches were designed for the family. Ella was somewhat\nmortified, and afterward told Mrs. Lindsley what her father said about\nthe basket of fruit.\n\nIt seems very strange that Ella should be so selfish, for her father\nis not at all so, and I know it must grieve him to have a child of his\nso forgetful of the enjoyment of others. This selfishness does not\nmake her happy. It occasions her much trouble, and it always will.\n\nI know a little boy, six years old, who is very fond of fruit, and who\nis much delighted when his father brings him an apple; yet I have seen\nhim, when he had but one, divide it between his brothers and sisters,\nand reserve no part of it for himself. He seemed entirely happy in\ndoing so.\n\nOne day he heard his mother say, \"I have not even a penny in my\npurse.\" He went up-stairs to his money-box, and brought down a handful\nof pennies, and gave them to her. His mother kissed his plump,\nbrown cheek, and thanked him for his gift.\n\n[Illustration: His mother kissed his plump, brown cheek.]\n\nWhich should you prefer to be like--selfish Ella, or this generous\nlittle boy?\n\nThe selfish person is always willing to receive favours, but to the\ngenerous \"it is more blessed to give than to receive.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN.\"\n\n\n\"Father is coming, father is coming!\" shout a merry group of children,\nas Mr. Wilmot appears around a little knoll, on his return from his\nbusiness.\n\n\"Let us run and meet him,\"--and away they scamper over the lawn to see\nwhich will get to him first. They are laughing gaily, and their feet\ntrip lightly, as hatless and bonnetless they hasten to him. Mary's\nbrown curls are streaming in the wind, and it is a beautiful sight to\nlook upon these children, so full of life and joy and love.\n\nMr. Wilmot greets them with a smile, and stoops to kiss each of them,\nas they put up their arms to give him a loving welcome to his home.\nOne of them takes his basket, and another his cane, and then the\nunoccupied hands are claimed by the tiny ones who love to walk by his\nside.\n\nWhy do these children hasten so eagerly to meet their father? It is\njust because he is their father. He has provided them with a home, and\nwith food and clothing, and has given them many pleasant things to\nenjoy. He loves them, and his love and approbation are very precious\nto them. They obey his wishes, and strive to please him, and this is\none source of the happiness which fills their hearts.\n\nI think most of you, dear children, have kind parents, to whom you are\nwarmly attached, and that you do not hear the name of father without\nemotions of pleasure. Some of you have no earthly father, but you all\nhave one in another and better world.\n\nMost of you, in your infancy, have learned to repeat the Lord's\nPrayer. How beautiful and expressive are the words with which it\ncommences, \"Our Father who art in heaven.\" God, then, is your father,\nand you may go to him as his children. You may tell him all your\nwants, all your sorrows, and all your joys. You may pour out your\nheart to him with perfect freedom. You need not fear to do this as you\nwould to a stranger, for he is your Father, and knows all about you.\nHe knows every time you suffer, and he sees every thought of your\nheart. God loves you more than any earthly friends can, and he has\nenabled them to bestow upon you all the comforts which surround you.\n\nWhen you kneel down to pray, will you not remember that it is to a\nfather you are speaking, and will you not love him as truly and warmly\nas you do the dear father who takes you on his knee, and speaks so\nkindly and affectionately to you. Your father in heaven has given you\nthis earthly parent, and you should surely love him for all he has\ndone for you.\n\nDo not let the precious words, \"Our Father who art in heaven,\" be\nunmeaning ones to you; but strive to realize the great goodness and\ncondescension of God in permitting you to call him by so sweet a name,\nand give him the only thing you can in return,--your young and\ngrateful hearts.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nHATTIE AND HERBERT.\n\n\n\"Was there ever so good a mother as you are?\" said Hattie Atherton,\nthrowing her arms around her mother's neck, and kissing her with great\naffection.\n\n\"Oh yes!\" answered little Herbert, in a solemn tone, \"there is one a\ngreat deal better.\"\n\n\"Why, Herbert! what do you mean?\" exclaimed Hattie, who knew Herbert\nloved his mother as dearly as she did.\n\n\"I mean God. He is better than mother.\"\n\n\"But God is a Father. He is our Father in heaven,\" continued Hattie.\n\nHerbert was quite satisfied with Hattie's correction, and was then\nready to agree with her, that his mother was the best mother in the\nworld.\n\nHerbert was a very little boy, but he had been taught that God was\nmore worthy of love than even his father or mother could be. He was\ntoo young to understand much about the being of God, and when he\ncalled him a mother a great deal better than his own mother, it was an\nexpression of his love and reverence.\n\nDo you, dear children, when you realize something about the love\nwhich your mother feels for you, and which enables her cheerfully to\ndo so much for your comfort, remember that God loves you even more\nthan she does, and that He is far more deserving your strongest\naffections?\n\n\"He that loveth father or mother more than me,\" the Saviour said, \"is\nnot worthy of me.\" God should occupy the first place in your heart,\nand next to Him you should love your parents.\n\nHappy is that child who is so willing to be governed by her mother's\nwishes that she is at all times ready to exclaim, \"Was there ever so\ngood a mother as my mother!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO WILLS.\n\n\nWhen a man of wealth dies, there is always much interest felt in\nregard to the disposition he has made of his property by will.\nSometimes large bequests are made to benevolent societies, and the\ndonor is generally considered a very generous man. Many bless his\nmemory, and his name is cherished with grateful respect. It is right\nthat it should be so. God loves the cheerful giver.\n\nI have just read the last \"will and testament\" of a little boy nine\nyears old, who lived in Ohio. Not very long ago he was taken ill with\nfever. The disease was violent, and he suffered much. At length it\nbecame evident that he must die.\n\nA few hours before his death, he looked up to his mother and said:\n\n\"Do you remember my gold dollar?\"\n\n\"Yes, my son; but we had better not think of that now.\"\n\n\"But mother,\" said George, \"I want you to give it to the missionaries,\nand my shillings too, and all the pennies. Give it all to the\nmissionaries.\"\n\nGeorge died, and I trust has gone to heaven. His desire to do good was\nno doubt acceptable and pleasing to God. He could not receive here\nthe reward God has promised to those who give to the poor, but in\nanother world his heavenly Father can most richly recompense him. The\nsum contributed by the dying child was not large, but it was all he\nhad.\n\nIn the same town lived a little girl, whose father was a clergyman.\nOne after another of his dear ones were taken from him. A precious\nbabe of seventeen months, a sweet prattler of three years, and another\nof five, were called to leave this world and grow up with the angels\nin heaven. Then this child of eleven must go too--the fourth out of\nthat family circle within one short month! She had been a follower of\nthe Saviour for three years, and had thought much of the condition of\nthe heathen, who have no knowledge of the way of salvation through\nChrist. She hoped, if she lived, to become a missionary herself, and\nteach them about the true God and his son Jesus Christ.\n\nShe was ill nearly three weeks, but she was not unhappy. She did not\nfear to die. The Saviour, whom she loved, was near her, to walk with\nher through the valley of the shadow of death, and his rod and\nstaff--they comforted her. She knew that her beloved parents would\nsoon join her in the heavenly world, when they all together should\nenjoy the immediate presence of their Lord. She looked forward\ncheerfully and joyfully, to the glorious immortality upon which she\nwas so soon to enter. When dying, she exclaimed, \"It is all dark here,\nbut I shall soon be where it is light. I shall be with my heavenly\nFather, and the blessed Saviour, and all the good people.\"\n\nOne of this child's last requests was, that her dollar--the only money\nshe possessed--should be sent to a missionary society to buy\nTestaments for heathen children.\n\nThese children's offerings, small though they are, are yet precious\ngifts cast into the treasury of our Lord. Their influence will never\ncease. Many souls may be converted through the truth these \"two mites\"\nmay be the means of teaching.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"BLESS GOD FOR THIS DOLL.\"\n\n\nWhen Mary Wilson was about five years old, her aunt Ann came from a\ndistant place to make her mother a visit. She was fond of children,\nand often talked and played with her little niece, and assisted her in\nmaking dresses for her doll. This gratified Mary, and made her love\nher more and more, as we always love those who are kind to us.\n\nMary's doll was not pretty, but she liked it very much, and took good\ncare of it. She always undressed it at night, before she went to bed,\nand put on a nice white night-gown her mother had made for it; and in\nthe morning she would dress it again for the day. She named it Louisa,\nbut her younger brother always called it Quesa, and, after a time, all\nthe family spoke of it by that name.\n\nMary often wished she could wash Quesa's face, as her own was washed;\nbut she had tried it once, and found it would not answer, for the\ncolour came off its cheeks, and it looked more than ever as if it\nneeded a good rubbing with a sponge.\n\nSometimes, when passing the shop-windows, and seeing the new dolls so\ntemptingly displayed, Mary would ask if she might stop and look at\nthem, and would, perhaps, say, \"I should like that doll.\" Mrs. Wilson\nwould gladly have purchased one of them for her, but she was obliged\nto be economical, and could not gratify all her wishes. Mary had early\nto learn many lessons of self-denial, and I must do her the justice to\nsay she was always satisfied with her mother's decision.\n\nMary would occasionally go to walk with her aunt Ann, who observed\nwith what delight she looked at the porcelain dolls, so bright and\nfresh, and she thought she could not make her a more acceptable\npresent than one of them.\n\nOne day, when Mary was not with her, she bought a doll with rosy lips\nand cheeks, blue eyes, and short curling hair, and dressed it in\nclothes which could be taken off and put on easily, as all little\ngirls like to have them. It was indeed very pretty, and its face could\nbe washed without injury as often as Mary pleased to do it.\n\nMary knew nothing about the present she was to receive, till all this\nwas done; and then her aunt, going into the nursery, put it in her\narms as she was sitting in her low chair playing with Quesa. Mary\nlooked at the new doll, and then at her aunt, and then at the doll\nagain, as if to say, \"What does all this mean?\" Aunt Ann answered the\nlook by saying, \"The doll is for you, Mary.\"\n\nIt was just what she had long wanted, and her heart was full of\nhappiness and gratitude. After holding it a moment, she laid it\ncarefully in her chair, and kneeling down, put her little hands\ntogether and closing her eyes, said, \"Bless God for this doll.\" Mary\nhad been taught that God was the giver of every good gift, and she\nfelt, that although aunt Ann gave her the doll, her heavenly Father\nhad put it into her heart to do so, and she wanted to thank him for\nmaking her so happy.\n\nPerhaps you think that God is too great a being to care about your\nlittle wants, and that he does not put the thought into any body's\nheart to buy dolls for children, as Mary Wilson did. Nothing which\nconcerns the happiness of the creatures he has made, is too small for\nhis attention. Nothing escapes his notice. \"The very hairs of your\nhead are all numbered.\" So small a bird as a sparrow, the Bible tells\nus, cannot fall to the ground without his knowledge. If he cares for\nthe birds, he certainly does for children, and wishes them all to be\ngood and happy.\n\nGod has given you all many gifts, for which you ought to thank him. If\nI should look into your play-rooms, how many things I should see which\nadd to your enjoyment! In one there is a pasteboard house, with\nwindows and doors, and partitions to divide it into rooms. It is\nfurnished with tables and chairs, and the dolls can sit in them. In\nanother, are blocks with which to build houses, castles, and railways,\nor any thing the fancy of the young architect may dictate; and here\nis Noah's ark, in miniature, containing himself and family, and many\nanimals. Countless other toys are distributed among my young friends,\nwhich make their bright eyes sparkle, and wreathe their lips with\nsmiles.\n\nOther treasures, more valuable than these, are not wanting. How many\nbooks I see! and as I open them, one after another, at the fly-leaf, I\nread your own names and the names of those friends and relatives who\nhave given them to you.\n\nHave you ever thanked your heavenly Father, as Mary Wilson did, for\nthese pleasant things which make you so happy, and for all the\nblessings he confers upon you?\n\nYour parents provide you with food and clothes, and many other\ncomforts which you need; but it is God who enables them to do so, and\nwho fills their hearts with such love for you as to make it a pleasure\nto watch over and care for you. You should be grateful to them for all\ntheir kindness, but you should never forget that to your Father in\nheaven you owe your gratitude for such loving friends.\n\nGod himself has taught you to ask him, day by day, for your daily\nbread. That prayer shows who provides for your wants, and whom you\nshould thank for the pleasant things you enjoy.\n\nThere is one gift of exceeding great value which the Lord has bestowed\nupon us--greater than all others--but I will tell you about it another\ntime.\n\n\n\n\nBESSIE HARTWELL.\n\n\nChildren who are called obedient children are often not so prompt in\ntheir obedience as they should be. Instead of doing directly as they\nare bidden, they stop to ask \"Why?\" and seem to wish some other reason\nfor compliance with a command than the word of a parent. It is often\nproper to tell children why they should do or should not do certain\nthings; but children should be careful to remember that they must\nobey, whether they know the reason of the requirement or not.\n\nBessie Hartwell is about eleven years old. She is generally a good\nchild, but, like all others whom I have known, she has some faults.\nAlthough she always intends to obey, she does not always obey\ninstantly. I will tell you a sad accident which befell her in\nconsequence of this tardiness, and you will see it would have been\nmuch better for her if she had learned to be prompt.\n\nShe was travelling with an aunt on a steamboat. She was very happy,\nfor she was going to visit her grandfather and grandmother, and she\nknew she should enjoy herself on the fine farm, scampering about over\nthe fields, raking the new-mown hay, and riding on the top of the\nload.\n\nBessie always liked to go to the country. Her home was in the city,\nwhere she had only a small yard, not much larger than her\ngrandmother's capacious kitchen, to play in, and that was surrounded\nby a high, close fence, so that she could see only the tiny patch of\ngrass beneath and the beautiful blue sky above.\n\nChildren in the country do not know how to prize their freedom. If\nthey could be penned up in the city for a few months, as Bessie was\nfor the greater part of the year, they would learn to appreciate it,\nand they would look upon every tree and every blade of grass as a\nfriend. The chirping of the crickets, the singing of the frogs, and\nthe warbling of the birds would be thrice welcome music to them. No\nwonder Bessie was so happy when she thought of the wide lawn studded\nwith trees, the orchard rich in apples and pears, the hills down which\nshe and her sisters could run, and up whose steep sides they must\nscramble when the horn sounds for dinner. The country is rich in its\ntreasures of happiness, and they are bestowed freely and profusely\nupon every one \"who in the love of nature holds communion with her\nvisible forms.\"\n\nIt was in the gray twilight of the morning that the steamboat arrived\nat the wharf. When they went home, Bessie was awakened, and was soon\nready, with her travelling-bag on her arm, to leave the boat. Her aunt\ntook her by the hand, to lead her across the gangway. They had but\njust stepped upon it, when she started forward to reach her uncle,\nwho, with an infant in his arms, had just preceded her. Her aunt\ncalled to her to stop. She paid no attention, but passed rapidly on. A\ncar, laden with baggage, was drawn across the gangway. It frightened\nher. She stepped quickly aside, and fell into the water.\n\nOh! the agony of that moment! Her uncle and aunt could not aid her. He\nbesought the people near him to take the infant from his arms, that he\nmight leap into the water to attempt the rescue of the child; but they\nwould not do it. They held him back, that he might not expose himself\nto the danger of immediate death; for he could not swim, and of course\nhe could not render the assistance which was needed. He and her aunt\nwere both obliged to stand and look on, in unutterable anguish, while\nstrangers attempted to save her.\n\nBessie fell in such a way that she did not sink under the water. Her\nclothes spread out, and buoyed her up like a life-preserver. A man let\nhimself down as soon as possible; but the rope was not long enough for\nhim to reach Bessie. He could only touch her with his foot. She took\nhold of it, and he slowly raised her till he grasped her bonnet. In\nthis way they were both pulled up, and Bessie once more stood by the\nside of her aunt. How freely they all breathed once more, when the\nterrible suspense was ended, and she was safe!\n\nBessie seemed scarcely aware of the danger she had been in. She had\nbeen perfectly calm, and did not lose her presence of mind; and it was\nowing to this, probably, that she was so easily rescued. She tried to\nsave her travelling-bag, but, as she told her aunt, she could not hold\nit any longer than she did.\n\nIt was wonderful that Bessie was not drowned. If she had not been\nsupported by her clothes, she would have sunk beneath the water, and\nwhen she arose would very probably have come up under the boat, so\nthat it would have been impossible to save her.\n\nIf Bessie had been in the habit of obeying so soon as she was spoken\nto, she would not have met with this fearful accident, and her uncle\nand aunt would have been spared the mental suffering they endured. I\nshould think she never again would forget to obey at the first word\nfrom those who have the care of her.\n\nI hope, dear children, you will profit as much by Bessie's accident as\nI trust she will; and that you will aim not only to be obedient, but\npromptly obedient. You may not suffer the same mishap that she did,\neven if you allow yourself to form the same habit; but it may lead you\ninto as great danger, and even greater, for it may peril the purity\nand peace of your soul, and that is of far more consequence than the\nsafety of your body.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"MARY'S GREAT TREASURE\"\n\n\nMore than twenty years ago, there was a little blue-eyed, curly-haired\nchild playing about one of the pleasant homes in the West. She was\nhappy and kind, and every one loved her. She was only six years old,\nyet she had a great treasure in her possession--greater than many of\nthe kings and queens of the earth can claim.\n\nWhat do you suppose this treasure was? Was it a valuable diamond? Was\nit an immense amount of silver and gold? Something better than\ndiamonds or silver and gold, was in this little girl's\nkeeping--something which will be safe when these have all perished.\n\nI will tell you what this treasure was, because I want you to be as\nrich as Mary, and, through the great goodness of God, you may all have\njust such a precious gift. It was a NEW HEART--a heart that loved her\nheavenly Father, that loved to pray to him and ask him to keep her\nfrom sin.\n\nMary often talked with her companions about Jesus, and before she was\nten years old several of them had been brought to love and obey him,\nand had, like Mary, a new heart. How happy they were together! How\nmuch the Saviour loved them!\n\nMary is now dead, and has gone to heaven. Do you suppose she is sorry\nshe so early went to Christ and asked him for a new heart?\n\nHow pleasant it must have been to her to be able to say, as she looked\nback over her past life, that she could not remember the time when she\ndid not love the Saviour; and she surely does not now regret, that\nwhen she was a little child--less than most of you who are reading\nabout her--she went to Jesus and asked him for a heart to love him.\n\nOur heavenly Father will give you a new heart, if you really wish to\nhave it and feel your great need of it. Jesus died that you might be\nsaved from sin, and he loves _little_ children. Will you not go to\nhim, as did Mary, and ask him for a new heart? If you are sorry for\nyour sins, tell him so; and if you are not, ask him to help you to\nfeel how wicked sin is, that you may have the \"great treasure.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"SUSAN WILL BE HAPPIER IF I GO WITH HER.\"\n\n\nMary Wilson is a little girl only nine years old. She loves her mother\nvery dearly, and she is always happy to be with her.\n\nMrs. Wilson lives in the country, not far from a pretty village, to\nwhich she occasionally goes to make a few purchases or call on a\nfriend. She sometimes takes Mary with her, who always enjoys such a\nwalk. She trips along by her mother's side, sometimes taking her hand,\nand sometimes stooping down to gather a wild-flower which blossoms by\nthe roadside; and then perhaps she runs on and watches the brook that\ntrickles down the hill, on its way to the river. Her smiling face and\nsparkling eyes show she is happy.\n\nOne day when she was all ready, with her white sack and blue\nsun-bonnet on, to accompany her mother along the bank of the river to\nthe village, Susan Grafton called for her to go with her in another\ndirection, on an errand for Mrs. Grafton. Mary was greatly tried. She\nwished very much to go with her mother, but Susan did not like to go\nalone. What to do she did not know. Tears were in her eyes, as she\ntold her mother her trouble and asked her what she should do. Mrs.\nWilson left the decision entirely to Mary. After a short struggle she\nsmiled through her tears, and said, \"I should rather go with you,\nmother, but Susan will be happier if I go with her. I think I had\nbetter go with her.\"\n\nMrs. Wilson kissed the quivering lip of her daughter, and told her she\nhad done right in thinking of Susan's happiness. Her heart ascended in\nprayer to God for his blessing on her dear child, that she might ever\nbe unselfish and self-sacrificing.\n\nWould not most children be happier than they now are, if, like Mary,\nthey tried to make others happy, and were willing to deny themselves\nfor the sake of their companions?\n\nAlthough Mary was so much grieved to lose her walk with her mother,\nshe was far happier that afternoon than she would have been without an\napproving conscience.\n\nWill you not pray, dear children, for a kind, unselfish heart?\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE NEWS-BOYS' BANK.\n\nPART I.\n\n\n\"How much money have you in the bank?\" I heard a gentleman inquire of\na boy. \"A dollar and a half,\" he replied. I looked up, and saw before\nme a slender, bright-looking lad, about fourteen years old. The\npantaloons he wore had evidently belonged to a full-grown man, and\nwere rolled up at the bottom to make them short enough for the present\nwearer. His coat had been cut short in the skirts, and the sleeves\nhung loosely about his hands. His shirt was not particularly clean,\nneither was it very dirty. His face, however, had been nicely washed,\nso that there was nothing repulsive about the fellow. The gentleman\ntalked with him a few moments. I was quite interested in the\nconversation and learned from it that he was one of the news-boys of\nNew York.\n\n[Illustration: First interview with the news-boy.]\n\nPatrick--for by this name I shall call the boy--sleeps at the\nlodging-house for news-boys, and is there learning to read. I\nconcluded that I would go there, and see for myself what had been done\nfor the improvement and salvation of these energetic, active boys. I\nfound the building to which I had been directed, but could not readily\nfind the entrance which led to the room I was seeking. I inquired of\nsome poorly-dressed children where it was. A boy about ten years old\nguided me. He asked if I wanted a boy. I was sorry to say \"No,\" for he\nlooked so bright and active that it seemed a pity not to give him some\nemployment.\n\nI ascended one flight of stairs, and another, and still another and\nanother, before I came to the right door. I knocked, and was admitted\nby a gentleman who has the oversight of these boys. The room which I\nentered was nicely painted and whitewashed. There were many seats with\ndesks as in a a schoolroom, and there were books and slates on them.\nMaps and pictures hung on the walls, and there was a library for those\nwho could read.\n\nThe room was neat and tidy, and quite inviting in its appearance. At\nthe farther end of it was an office for the caretaker, and a\nbathing-room, where water can be used without stint or measure. The\nboys enjoy the free use of the water, though probably many of them\nnever bathed in their lives, before they came to the lodging-house. If\n\"cleanliness is next to godliness,\" much has been already\naccomplished.\n\nThe school or sitting-room opens into the dormitory. This is a large\nand well-ventilated apartment, and, being in the sixth story,\noverlooks most of the buildings in the vicinity. There were\naccommodations for fifty boys, and the room is large enough for\neighty. Each boy has a separate bed. They are arranged in two tiers,\nas in a steamboat. The beds were all neatly made, and looked quite\ncomfortable. Many of these boys have never slept in a bed except in\nthis room. The remarks which they make to each other, when comparing\ntheir beds, with their clean sheets and pillow-cases, with the boxes,\nareas, and crannies where they have been accustomed to sleep, are very\namusing.\n\nI am happy to know that there has been a constant improvement among\nthe boys. They grow more orderly, and are more easily restrained, and\nsome of them give promise of making useful men. They are not allowed\nto use profane language, to fight, nor to smoke in the rooms, and\ngenerally manifest much kindness of feeling toward each other.\n\nThere was a table in the room, which interested me greatly. It was of\nblack-walnut. In the top there were one hundred and ten different\nholes, large enough to admit a half-dollar. Each of them was numbered.\nThis was the bank in which Patrick had deposited his money. There were\none hundred and ten little divisions in the drawer, corresponding with\none hundred and ten openings in the top. The boys each have a certain\nnumber for their own use, and if they choose, can safely secure their\nday's earnings for a time of need. The superintendent keeps the key\nof the drawer.\n\nSeveral weeks ago, the boys voted not to take their money from the\nbank till November, that they might then have the means of purchasing\nwarm clothes for the winter. I had quite a curiosity to look into the\nbank, to see how much the boys had saved. In some of the divisions\nthere were only a few pennies, while in others there were several\ndollars.\n\nI never looked upon any bank with so much pleasure, as I did upon this\nsimple one of the news-boys. It was teaching them a lesson of economy\nand forethought, which I trust they will never forget. When they enjoy\ntheir comfortable coats and warm pantaloons in the cold weather of\nwinter, they cannot avoid remembering, that it was by taking care of\nthe pennies, that they were enabled so nicely to clothe themselves.\nThe news-boys have never been taught the true value of money. They\nhave not hesitated to gamble it away, or to spend it for segars and\ntobacco, and other unnecessary and hurtful things. They have been\nexceedingly improvident and have had no idea of laying up any thing\nfor the future.\n\nOne evening, as the boys were gathered in their sitting-room, one of\nthem was leaning on the bank. He held up a quarter of a dollar between\nhis thumb and finger, and, looking at his companions, said, \"You know\nSimpson, the pawnbroker?\" \"Yes.\" \"He is a friend in need, but _here_\nis a friend indeed!\" and the bright silver dropped, jingling, into his\nbank.\n\nThose news-boys all of them possess more than ordinary intelligence\nand energy of character. \"Every one of them,\" as a gentleman said, \"is\nworth saving.\" They are sure to make _men_, and to exert an influence\nin the world.\n\nAfter my return from my visit to their rooms, I told some children\nabout the necessities of these news-boys, and how much they need\nbetter clothing. A little girl, whom I know, has determined to make a\nshirt for one of them. I am sure it will be acceptable; for,\nfrequently, when they first go to the lodging-house, they are so\nfilthy that something must be given them to make them decent. Perhaps\nother children may like to do something to benefit those needy ones,\nwho have no father nor mother to take care of them and provide for\ntheir wants.\n\n\nPART II.\n\nWhen the bank was opened, the first of November it was found to\ncontain seventy-nine dollars and eleven cents! This sum of money had\nbeen saved in seven weeks, by twenty-four boys. They were quite\nastonished at their own success. They learned the lesson by personal\nexperience, that if they took care of the pennies, the shillings would\ntake care of themselves. Some of them had saved enough to buy a new\nsuit of clothes, others enough for pantaloons, and others for a cap or\nshoes. They were advised not to spend their money hastily; but a few\nwere too impatient to wait, and the same evening they received it they\nwent out to make their purchases. Others laid by their money till\nmorning.\n\nThe news-boys found it was so much better for them to put their money\nin the bank, than to spend it in gaming, or for cigars, or in other\nuseless ways, that they voted to close it again, not to be opened till\nDecember. During the month of November, nineteen boys saved\nsixty-three dollars and forty-seven cents. One of them had put in\nthirteen dollars. He did not spend it all for himself, but gave a part\nof it to his mother to pay her rent.\n\nThe boys were delighted with their wealth. \"No hard times here!\" they\ncried. \"Money isn't tight with us. There is plenty of it.\"\n\nOne of the boys purchased an entire suit of clothes; and when he made\nhis appearance among the others, in his nice blue jacket, with bright\nbuttons, his pantaloons to match, and his blue navy-cap, he was\ngreeted with cheers. One and another examined his wardrobe, and all\nenjoyed his success. \"Who are you? Who'd think this was Charley ----? Is\nthis a news-boy? Who'd believe this was a news-boy?\" and various other\nexclamations escaped from them. \"Charley has done well this time.\"\nYes, Charley did well, and he will not soon forget the lesson he\nlearned that month. He knows more of the true use of money than ever\nbefore.\n\nThe first of December the boys voted to keep the bank closed till the\nthird of January. They decided not to have it opened on the first,\nbecause there are so many temptations to spend money that they feared,\nif they had it in their pockets, they should part with it foolishly.\n\nOne of the news-boys has been recently run over by a stage. I inquired\nabout him, and learned that he is the very boy whom I met in a\nfriend's office, and my interest in whom led me first to visit the\nlodging-house. This is the third time he has narrowly escaped death.\nThe omnibus passed directly over his body. When he was taken up, his\ncompanions thought him dying. He was conveyed immediately to the\nhospital.\n\nThe boys at the lodging-house were saddened by Patrick's troubles.\nThey expected he would die. They recounted his excellencies of\ncharacter. His cheerfulness and ready wit were not forgotten. Patrick\nis not a boy of many words, but when he speaks, it is to the purpose.\nThe boys called at the hospital to see him. The door-keeper said he\nnever knew a boy who had so many cousins!\n\nThe next day Patrick was better. It was found that he was not so much\ninjured as was at first supposed. There was great rejoicing in the\nevening at the lodging-house. A heavy load had been lifted from their\nhearts. Patrick would soon be among them again. They were cheerful and\nfull of life and spirits. \"Patrick must be half made of India-rubber!\"\nthey exclaimed, gleefully.\n\nThis sympathy with each other is one of the most beautiful traits of\ntheir character, and shows a nature that may be nobly developed. They\ncannot but learn much that is good in the hours spent in their\nreading-room, as they listen to the instruction of those interested in\ntheir welfare. Many of them have already found good situations, and\ngive promise of becoming useful men. They appreciate kindness and\ncivility. \"Mr. ---- spoke to me in the street, when he was walking\nwith another gentleman and _he shook hands with me too_,\" said one of\nthem triumphantly, as if he had risen in the scale of being, and was\nmore worthy of respect, in consequence of the respect with which he\nhad been treated. Few can estimate the power of sympathy.\n\n    \"Speak gently, kindly, to the poor;\n      Let no harsh term be heard;\n    They have enough they must endure,\n      Without an unkind word.\"\n\n\"I have never forgotten your words of kindness, when I was poor and\nalmost discouraged,\" wrote one lady to another, and no more will any\nchild of want forget the utterance of a warm, generous heart.\n\nI should have told you, that besides the money the boys put in the\nbank, they earn enough to pay for their lodging, six cents a night,\nand to purchase their food, and, sometimes, various articles of\nclothing. They are obliged to be very active, and to be up early in\nthe morning. They may be found in all parts of the city, crying their\npapers with loud, piercing voices, and running at full speed from\nstreet to street, stopping only to sell papers to any who may buy.\n\nIt would be well if they had some occupation which would expose them\nless to bad company and unsteady habits; but a news-boy can be honest,\nvirtuous, and temperate, as well as any other boy,--if he will take\nthe right way to be.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nIDA'S DRESS.\n\n\nAt one time, when Mrs. Dudley was spending a few days in the city, she\nwent with a friend to call upon a poor woman whom she heard was in\ngreat need. This woman had sent a daughter, about eight years old, to\nschool for one day, and then found that she could not spare her; she\nfelt obliged to keep her at home to take care of the baby.\n\nMrs. Carter--for by this name I shall call her--occupied a house back\nfrom the street. The ladies ascended the steps leading to the first\nfloor, and inquired if she lived there. \"She is in the basement,\" was\nthe answer. They descended into the area. It was neatly swept, and in\nperfect order. \"It must be a genteel woman who lives here,\" remarked\nMrs. Benton. They knocked. A voice bade them come in. They opened the\ndoor and entered. Mrs. Carter was sewing by a table. By her side stood\nGeorgianna, her oldest child, plainly and neatly dressed. At the other\nend of the table was a little girl about four years old, whose name I\nforget, and in the rocking-chair before the stove was a dark-haired\nbabe, quietly sleeping.\n\nThe room was neat and tidy. There was a little fire in the stove, but\nnot enough to thoroughly warm the room.\n\nThe ladies inquired of Mrs. Carter in regard to her circumstances.\nThey learned that her husband left her last spring, and had gone she\nknew not where. He was a carpenter by trade, and could earn two\ndollars a day. She had always done what she could with her needle, and\nhad earned a few dollars a month by binding shoes or doing other\nsewing. They had lived very comfortably, renting good apartments for\neight dollars a month, and knew nothing of want or suffering.\n\nMrs. Carter was obliged to give up her pleasant rooms, to remove to\nthe basement. She has laboured industriously, whenever she can procure\nwork, to pay her rent, three dollars a month, and to provide food for\nher children. She has known what it is to be both cold and hungry. She\nhas bought coal by the bushel, and has sometimes been without fire in\nthe dead of winter. Her family have lived principally upon bread and\nwater, and the little ones have cried for food when she had none to\ngive them.\n\nLittle Ida is too young to know her mother's sorrow. She is a babe of\nonly a few weeks old, and she sleeps as sweetly in that great\nrocking-chair as any babe ever slept in a cradle. She is warmly\nwrapped in a blanket, and does not suffer, although she has scarce a\nchange of dresses.\n\nWhen Mrs. Dudley returned to her happy home, she told her children\nabout this family, and particularly about the poor babe, who so\nincreased her mother's cares and labours, yet repaying it all by the\nwealth of maternal love her coming had developed. It was pleasing to\nsee Georgianna lay her face so softly on the infant's, and so gently\nrock her when her slumbers were disturbed.\n\nMrs. Dudley's children listened to her story with great interest, and\nwished to do something for the family. Mary repaired some garments\nwhich her mother gave her, and when this was done, she went to her\ndrawer and took out a small piece of calico, which had been given to\nher to make her doll a dress. She asked her mother if there was enough\nto make Ida a dress. Mrs. Dudley examined it, and told her there was.\nSo she cut it out for her daughter, and showed her how to make it.\nThis work occupied her several days, for Mary goes to school, and has\nnot much time for sewing. The dress looked very pretty when it was\ncompleted. She had embroidered the tiny sleeves with a neat scollop,\nand had taken great pains to make it strong and neatly.\n\nThe next time Mrs. Dudley went to the city, she took several small\nparcels for Mrs. Carter, who was much pleased with them. None\ngratified her more than the dress for the baby.\n\nIt will always be a pleasant recollection to Mary that she made the\nheart of this suffering woman happy by sending a dress to her infant.\nShe learned the pleasure of giving, and of exerting herself to do good\nto others.\n\nIf Mrs. Dudley had had the dress made by a seamstress, it would have\nbeen equally useful to Mrs. Carter; but Mary would have lost the\nreward which she now enjoys in the consciousness of relieving the\nsufferings of the destitute. I hope Mary will always be benevolent,\nand never grow \"weary in well-doing.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nWHAT MADE WILLIE HAPPY.\n\n\nWillie was looking at the slippers which his mother had wrought for\nhim, and admiring the freshness of the colours. They were a Christmas\npresent to him, and had afforded him much pleasure.\n\n\"You were very happy the evening they were given to you,\" said his\nmother.\n\n\"But no happier than I was last evening,\" he replied.\n\nI will tell you what made him so happy on the evening to which he\nalluded. At Christmas, two little books had been added to his library,\nand another had been lent him by one of his companions. When he had\nread these books, he was very desirous to get still another. He began\nto inquire how he could earn money enough to buy it, for he thought he\nshould like to purchase it himself. He could think of nothing which\ncould be done in the house, by which he could replenish his purse; so\nhis mother told him, if he would control his temper for a week, she\nwould get the book for him. If he did get out of patience, and\nimmediately checked himself, he was to receive it.\n\nEvery evening Willie came to his mother, and told her how he had\nsucceeded through the day. She observed him very carefully, and she\nknew that he really tried to conquer himself. She encouraged him in\nhis efforts, and Willie was very happy--happy because he was\nsucceeding in correcting what was wrong--and happy in the anticipation\nof the reward promised him.\n\nThe last day of the week came, and passed away. Willie's father\nreturned from the city. He brought with him a parcel done up in soft\nwhite paper, and tied with a small red and white twine. His mother\nopened it, and there was the book for which she had sent. She wrote\nWillie's name in it, with the day of the month, and then wrote \"A\nReward of Merit.\" She thought those few words would remind him of the\nway in which he earned the book, and would encourage him to persevere\nin overcoming any bad or sinful habit.\n\nAll these things together made Willie quite as happy as on \"Merry\nChristmas.\" It always makes people happy to endeavour to subdue what\nis wrong in themselves,--such efforts being their own reward. The\nconsciousness of the approval of our heavenly Father must always\noccasion the truest pleasure.\n\n\n\n\nDO YOU INTEND TO BE A GENTLEMAN?\n\n(A QUESTION FOR BOYS.)\n\n\nAs I sat at the table a few evenings since, a gentleman called. He was\ninvited to take a seat with us. As he had already supped, he declined.\nThis person is a man of talent and education, but as I turned to look\nat him, in the course of conversation, I observed a habit which so\ndisgusted me, that it was with an effort I could finish my tea.\n\nThis circumstance impressed on my mind the importance of forming\ncorrect habits in boyhood. \"The child is father of the man,\"\nWordsworth says in one of his poems. The habits and character you form\nnow will, in all probability, be the habits and character you will\nretain when you are a man. I suppose the individual to whom I have\nalluded was entirely unconscious of doing any thing disagreeable. If\nnot, perhaps he did not consider it of much consequence. He may have\ngrown up with the opinion that little things are of small importance.\nNow, that this is not always so, you may easily see if you drop a\nspark of fire in a pile of shavings: the whole will be immediately in\nflames, and will do as much injury as if it had been kindled by a\nlarge coal.\n\nOur happiness depends quite as much on little things as on great.\nSmall trials are as difficult to bear as any. People often lose their\npatience when a dress is torn, or a pitcher broken, who would be quiet\nand calm if some serious misfortune had befallen them.\n\nI hope, boys, you intend to be gentlemen. I do not mean fops and\ndandies, but true gentlemen. You have perhaps seen the remark made,\nthat \"dress does not make the man, but after he is made, he looks\nbetter dressed up.\" Neither do gentlemanly habits and manners make the\nman, but they certainly improve him after he is made, and render him\nagreeable and prepossessing.\n\nA farmer, or a cabinet-maker, or a blacksmith, are no less gentlemen\nbecause they are engaged in these useful and honourable employments,\nthan are judges, or merchants, or ministers. To be a gentleman is to\nbe a man of gentle manners; and who would not desire to be\ndistinguished for such a trait?\n\nIf you intend to be gentlemen, you must begin now, by always\nconducting, under all circumstances, just as well as you know how.\nSome of you, I suppose, have better advantages of society, and more\ncareful instruction at home, than others; but no boy of intelligence\nneed fail to be a gentleman if he tries.\n\nA true gentleman is always courteous. He answers respectfully when\nspoken to--no matter by whom. Do you remember the anecdote of General\nWashington, who raised his hat and bowed politely to a coloured man he\nmet, who had previously saluted him with the usual civility of the\nrace? A friend with him expressed surprise. \"Do you think,\" said he,\n\"I would be less polite than a negro?\" I hope, when you are tempted to\nbe uncivil to those whom you consider beneath you, you will not forget\nthe good example of the Father of his Country. I suppose the secret of\nWashington's politeness and greatness was, as his mother proudly said\nof him, that \"George was always a good boy!\"\n\nHe was a gentleman--such a gentleman as I should be glad to believe\nevery boy who reads this book will one day be. If you would be polite\nto all, you must cultivate kind feelings towards all. A gentleman is\nnot a rough man. He may have great energy and power of character, as\nhad Washington, but still he is a _gentle_-man.\n\n\n\n\nGENEROUS NELLY; OR, THE WILLING MIND.\n\n\nNelly Wallace is about six years old. She has a pleasant, attractive\nface. Her long hair curls in ringlets over her neck. She is one of the\nneatest and most gentle children I ever saw, and gives her mother but\nlittle trouble. Indeed, she is so orderly, and active, that she is\nquite an assistance to her. She sings like a lark, and is patient as a\nlamb. She is very generous, too.\n\nHer father is obliged to live on a small salary.\n\nNelly is a favourite with her father's friends, and often receives a\npresent from them.\n\nOne day, she heard her mother say to her father that they needed some\nparticular article very much, but he told her he had not money enough\nto purchase it. She quietly left the room, and went up stairs.\nPresently she returned, and placed a five-dollar gold-piece, which had\nbeen given to her, in her mother's hand. \"Please use my money,\nmother,\" she said; \"I should rather you would use it for what you\nneed, than keep it to buy something for myself.\"\n\nAt another time, her father was obliged to take a journey on business.\nNelly brought forth her purse, and offered its contents to him to\ndefray his expenses. Dear child! she knew nothing about the cost of\ntravelling, nor the value of money. She thought her three-cent pieces\nwould be all he would need.\n\n[Illustration: Nelly brought forth her purse.]\n\nPaul, when exhorting the Corinthian church to liberality, says, \"If\nthere be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man\nhath, and not according to that he hath not.\" Nelly had a willing\nmind, and her father was as much gratified by her thoughtful\nconsideration as he would have been if she had been able to furnish\nhim all that he needed. So our heavenly Father is pleased with his\nchildren when they do what they can to provide for the wants of the\nneedy; and the smallest gift, offered in love, is not forgotten by\nhim.\n\nYou recollect that our Saviour, when he saw the rich men casting their\ngifts into the treasury and the poor woman casting in her two mites,\nsaid that she had cast in more than they all. They had given of their\nabundance; it had cost them no self-denial--but she, of her penury,\nhad cast in all the living that she had. God looks not only on the\noutward act, but at the heart. He sees the motives which actuate us.\nHe saw Nelly's heart, and he approved her generosity. He gave her an\napproving conscience, which made her very happy--far happier than she\ncould have been if she had been selfish, and thought only of her own\nenjoyment.\n\n\n\n\nLOVEST THOU ME?\n\n\nJesus, after his resurrection from the dead, appeared at various times\nto his disciples. Once, when Peter, John, and a few others were\nfishing in the Sea of Tiberias, he stood on the shore, and inquired of\nthem, \"Have ye any meat?\" They answered, \"No.\" Then he directed them\nto cast their net on the right side of the ship, and they should find\nfish. They did so, and caught one hundred and fifty-three. The\ndisciples then knew it was Jesus who had spoken to them. After they\nhad secured the fish by drawing the net to the shore, Jesus invited\nthem to dine with him.\n\nThe disciples had observed, so soon as they came to land, a fire of\ncoals, and \"fish laid thereon, and bread.\" This was the refreshment\nour Lord had prepared for them, and he, himself, gave them the simple\nrepast.\n\nAfter they had dined, our Saviour said to Peter three times, \"Simon,\nson of Jonas, lovest thou me?\" The first and the second time Peter\nanswered, \"Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.\" Peter was\ngrieved because Jesus said unto him the third time, \"Lovest thou me?\"\nand he replied, \"Thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love\nthee.\"\n\nHow did Peter know that he loved Jesus? It was not because he always\ndid right, for a short time before he had denied his Lord, and had\nmore than once said that he did not know him! Yet, notwithstanding\nthis, when he was now asked, \"Lovest thou me?\" he could unhesitatingly\nanswer, \"Thou knowest that I love thee.\"\n\nIf you should be asked, \"Do you love your parents?\" you would\nimmediately answer, \"Yes.\" You know you love them. How do you know it?\nIt might not be so easy for you to answer this question as the other,\nbut at the same time you are conscious that you do love them. You feel\nthat they are your best friends. They provide for all your wants. They\nfurnish you with food and clothes and the means of education. They\ntake care of you when you are well and when you are ill. You feel\ngrateful to them for what they do for you, and you enjoy being with\nthem, and talking with them. You like to please them, and it makes you\nsad when you have grieved them. Children who love their parents very\ndearly sometimes do what they do not approve; but they are always\nsorry for it, as Peter was when he went out and wept bitterly.\n\nIf you should be asked, \"Do you love your heavenly Father?\" could you\nas readily answer, \"Yes?\" Do you like to hear about him and his\nwonderful works? Is the story of Jesus' love for lost man one that\ninterests you? Is it pleasant to you to think of living forever with\nthe Lord when you leave this world?\n\nIf you love your Father in heaven, you do not love to do what is\nwrong. If you are overcome by temptation, and sin against him, you are\nsorry, as you are when you sin against your earthly parents.\n\nChildren, and grown people too, sometimes seem to think that religion\nis to be kept by itself, separate and distinct from our daily duties,\nand that it consists in praying, going to church, hearing sermons, and\nwearing a sober face. It is true the Christian often feels sober, but\nthere is no one who may be so cheerful as he, for there is none that\ncan be so truly happy. True piety extends to all the acts of our\nlives, and influences them all. It does not forbid our doing any thing\nthat it is right for us to do. A Christian child enjoys play quite as\nwell as any other child.\n\nIf Jesus should say to you to-day, as he did to Peter, \"Lovest thou\nme?\" could you answer, \"Yes, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee?\" It\nis just as easy for you to know whether you love him as it is for you\nto know whether you love your father and mother. I trust there are\nmany children who do love the Saviour, and who wish to live to be good\nand to do good.\n\n\n\n\nMY LITTLE BAG.\n\n\nOn my table lies a little bag. It has no beauty to render it valuable.\nIt is not made of silk or velvet. The material is plain muslin, and\nthat by no means of the finest texture. It is not very neatly made.\nThe stitches are irregular. Sometimes they are piled one above\nanother, and again they are scattered far apart. The hemming shows\nthat no skilful seamstress held the needle. And yet this bag has\nafforded me much pleasure. Every stitch was made by the hand of love,\nand with a desire to gratify me and add to my happiness. It was a work\nof toil, for the fingers were unused to such labour. Patient industry\nand persevering effort were required to accomplish it. Self-denial,\ntoo, was practised, for play was forsaken on its account.\n\nIt was a gift to me from a dear child; a token of his purest and\nwarmest affection; and that has made this coarse muslin more precious\nthan the richest material could be, which had no such extraneous\nvalue.\n\nWhat a blessing is love! How it enriches us! Without it we must ever\nbe poor. \"God is love,\" and he has taught us to love one another.\n\"Love is the fulfilling of the law.\" We must love our neighbour as\nourselves.\n\n    \"Little deeds of kindness,\n    Little words of love,\n    Make our earth an Eden,\n    Like the heaven above.\"\n\nNo offering of true love is valueless, however small or imperfect it\nmay be. My little bag is rich in pleasant associations, and I never\nlook upon it but with a full heart.\n\nGod does not accept what we do for him because of any peculiar\nexcellence in our devotion, but because it is the result of our love\nto him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nDO YOU LIKE YOUR SEAT?\n\n\nOn the day after one Fourth of July, I was obliged to go into the\ncity. The cars were crowded with those who were returning, after\nspending our national anniversary in the country. How much they must\nhave enjoyed that day of release from city labour, and dust, and close\nstreets bounded by high brick houses! How beautiful to them the green\nfields, the shady trees, and the soft-flowing river! How they gazed on\nthe hills luxuriating in verdure, and the valleys rich with their\ntreasures of wealth and beauty!\n\n\"God made the country,\" and all his works are perfect. I pity those\nwho are pent up in a large prison-city with nothing but a dwarf-maple\nbefore their windows which at all resembles the country, and who have\nto look up, up, up, before they can get a glimpse of the blue sky, and\nthe fleecy clouds which sail majestically along, ever varying from one\nform of beauty to another. Thank God, my young friends, that he has\ngiven you a country home, and never leave it, unless stern necessity\ncompels you to make your abode in the hot, crowded, feverish city.\n\nThe cars, on the morning of the fifth, were, as I have told you,\ncrowded, and it was difficult to find unoccupied seats. A gentleman\nand his wife entered a car, near the door of which were two seats with\nonly one person in each. The first was occupied by a boy about\nfifteen. The gentleman politely asked him if he would sit with another\ngentleman, that he and the lady who was with him might not be\nseparated. The first impulse of the boy was a civil one, and he\nstarted to rise; but the second thought was ungentlemanly, ungenerous,\nand extremely selfish. \"I like my seat very well,\" he muttered, and\ndrew back to the window and looked out. Perhaps even then he began to\nfeel ashamed of such rudeness.\n\nThe gentleman behind him immediately arose, and offered his seat. It\nwas accepted with a bow, and a \"thank you, sir.\" The lady was\nimmediately behind the boy, and, as she seated herself, she said to\nhim, in a low, kind voice, \"I fear you will never be a gentleman.\" He\nmade no reply, nor did he move his face from the window, but his very\nears blushed. He was evidently ashamed. During the whole ride he kept\nnearly the same position, not being willing to meet the eyes of his\nfellow-passengers, for he must have observed their disapprobation of\nhis ill-manners; and before the cars were entirely within the depot,\nhe went out upon the platform to escape from observation.\n\nI hope the boy will never be rude in this way again, for he evidently\nwas made unhappy by it. There is only one reason why I fear he will\nnot profit by the well-merited rebuke he received, and that is,\nbecause I saw one of his cheeks puffed out with a quid of tobacco! I\nconfess I do not expect so much improvement from a boy who indulges in\nsuch a filthy habit, as from one who does not.\n\nA gentlemanly boy must always be happier than one who is rough and\nselfish. The boy in the car did not enjoy his ride, although, as he\nsaid, he liked his seat very well. His impoliteness made it unpleasant\nand the remembrance of it will never afford him gratification. I hope\nnone of you, who read about him, will be guilty of a similar error.\n\nAlways try to be accommodating to those about you. If you are asked to\ndo a favour, do it as if it gave you pleasure. You will never have\noccasion to regret it. Be civil to those in your father's employment.\nTheir love and respect is of value to you. There are very few sunk so\nlow as not to appreciate true politeness. Above all others, be polite\nto your parents, and your brothers and sisters. Do not indulge in\nharsh words.\n\nPerhaps the boy of whose history I have given you a single incident\nnever read Peter's instruction to the early Christians, in his epistle\nto them, and did not know that the apostle considered politeness of\nsufficient importance to be worthy of the attention of those to whom\nhe wrote. \"Be courteous,\" is his direction to them, and I cannot give\nyou better advice on the same subject.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE BEGGAR.\n\n\nAs I was walking up street, a few days since, I met two little girls\nwho looked very much alike, and were nearly of the same age. They wore\ngingham sun-bonnets, which came far over their good-natured faces.\nTheir calico dresses were neatly made. Their blue woollen stockings\nlooked warm and comfortable, but their shoes were old and much worn.\n\nAs I passed, the elder held out her hand in a way which I could not\nmistake, but I thought I would ask her what she wanted. She replied,\n\"A penny to get mother some sugar for her tea.\" I talked with the\nchildren a few minutes about their mother, and inquired if she sent\nthem out to beg. They said she was obliged to do it, for their father\nwas dead, and she was not able to work.\n\n[Illustration: The elder held out her hand.]\n\nThe children had such good, honest faces, and gave such evidence, in\ntheir general appearance, of more care than most of this class of\nchildren usually receive, that I thought I would go home with them,\nthat I might better judge of the correctness of their story, and of\nthe necessities of their mother. So I said to them--\n\n\"Where does your mother live?\"\n\nThey named the street.\n\n\"Will you take me there?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am. We must go this way;\" and they turned off in the\ndirection of their home.\n\n\"What is your name?\" I inquired of the elder child.\n\n\"Mary Ann ----.\"\n\n\"And what is your's?\"\n\n\"Ellen ----,\" answered the younger.\n\n\"Have you any brothers and sisters?\"\n\n\"We have one sister and one brother. Her name is Joanna, and his is\nMichael. A man took Michael away the fifth of July--the day after the\nFourth--and we haven't seen him since. Mother thinks we shall never\nsee him again.\"\n\nThey told me that their father was a stone-picker, and while he lived,\nthey did very well, and went to school; but since he died, their\nmother had been ill, and had bled at the lungs, and was not strong\nenough to work.\n\nI was pleased to see the children take each other by the hand, and\nwalk along quite lovingly by my side. They appeared kind and polite to\neach other, and seemed to think that in me they had found a friend.\nThey talked very fast, and told me many things about themselves and\ntheir way of life.\n\n\"We save our money to pay the rent.\"\n\n\"How much does your mother pay?\"\n\n\"Three dollars.\"\n\n\"Three dollars a month!\" I said, thinking how much it was for a poor\nwoman, who had herself and three children to feed and clothe.\n\n\"I don't know whether it is a month, or a week, or how long; I only\nknow it is three dollars.\n\n\"Once we were turned out in the snow. Oh! how cold my feet were!\" The\nremembrance of her sufferings seemed almost to make her shiver.\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\n\"A woman took us in her house.\"\n\n\"It is a long walk for you,\" said Mary Ann, as we crossed one of the\nbroad avenues, \"and we live in the top of the house.\"\n\nWhen we reached the house where the children lived, Mary Ann and Ellen\nran up before me so fast that I lost sight of them. The hall was so\ndark that I could not see the stairs, but I could hear their feet\npattering quickly on, and I followed as best I could. The last flight\nof stairs I could see distinctly, for the sky-light was just over\nthem. They were brown with age, but they were evidently often swept\nand washed. I entered a room in which I saw the children. The woman\nthere they introduced as their mother. She did not receive me with\nmuch cordiality. I suppose she wondered why I had come there. Her room\nwas small and scantily furnished. It was heated by a small furnace.\nThe great gray cat was dozing in the corner.\n\nI seated myself on a clean wooden chair, and began to talk with the\nmother about her children. She told me of her only son, \"as fine a boy\nas ever stood on two feet,\" and her anxiety in regard to him. I\nattempted to encourage her to hope that so soon as navigation closed,\nhe would return to her, for he had been employed on a coal-boat; but\nshe refused to be comforted. She wished to find a place for Joanna in\nthe city.\n\nMary Ann, who is nine years old, said she should like to go to the\ncountry. She thought she could wash dishes, set the table, and sweep,\nand I thought so too, for she seemed to me one of the smartest little\ngirls I ever saw. She would have been quite willing to accompany me to\nthe country, if her mother had consented, and I could have taken her.\n\nThe children's mother came to this country when she was quite young,\nand lived for several years as a servant in different families. She\nshowed me several papers which she carefully preserved in a basket.\nOne was a certificate from a physician--another from the person who\nhad employed her husband. As she opened her trunk I observed its\ncontents were nicely folded and arranged, as if she had a love of\norder. She told me she was able to do nothing but sew and could not\nprocure much of that.\n\nAfter the children came in, they combed their hair, and braided it,\nand washed their hands and faces.\n\nI inquired if the children could read. Ellen got her \"Easy Lessons,\"\nand came and stood by my side while she read in it. Mary Ann read very\nwell in her geography, and Joanna in some \"Reading Lessons\" which she\nhad used at school. I asked them if they could write.\n\n\"I can,\" replied Mary Ann. \"I can write my name, or I could your's if\nI knew it.\"\n\nI gave each of the children a piece of silver. They immediately handed\nit, with a bright smile, to their mother. I told them I would call\nagain and see them some time, but I could not do it often. When I bade\nthem good-by, they all followed me to the door, and looked so pleased\nand happy that I felt amply repaid for my long walk. I had gone but a\nfew steps, when Mary Ann came bounding along, and asked, \"When will\nyou come to see us again?\" I took her hand, and we walked together to\nthe next street.\n\nThere are many children as destitute as these little girls, and many,\nvery many, who have not even a feeble mother to care for them. Many\npoor children are sent out to gather the coal from the streets, or\nbits of wood where new buildings are being erected, and their bread\nthey beg from door to door.\n\nIn some of our cities benevolent people have opened schools for these\nmiserable children, where they are taught to sew and read, and to\nobserve to some extent the decencies and proprieties of life. In some,\na dinner is given to its pupils, and, where it is possible, a home for\nthe homeless in the country.\n\nChildren often save a part of their money for missionary or other\nbenevolent purposes. I cannot conceive a more suitable object for\ntheir benefactions than other children who are poor and destitute. \"It\nis more blessed to give than to receive,\" the Bible tells us.\n\nI hope you do not forget to thank God for the comforts and happiness\nof home, which you enjoy; and I hope, also, that you will not forget\nthat we have the poor with us always, and must do them all the good in\nour power.\n\n    \"Have pity on them, for their life\n      Is full of grief and care;\n    You do not know one half the woes\n      The very poor must bear;\n    You do not see the silent tears\n      By many a mother shed,\n    As childhood offers up the prayer,\n      'Give us our daily bread.'\"\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE CHARLEY.\n\n\nCharley was a sweet little babe. It was a pleasure to kiss his plump\ncheek, and pat his fat and dimpled arms. He was a dear babe, and we\nall loved him, and our blessed Saviour loved him even more than we\ndid.\n\nBefore Charley was two years old, he became ill. All that physicians\ncould do was done for him, but he daily grew more and more feeble. The\nbright blue eyes lost their brilliancy, and became faded and dim. The\nplump and rosy cheek became hollow and pale. The fat and rounded limbs\ngrew thin and weak, and we all felt that little Charley would soon be\ntaken from us.\n\nThe same sweet smile lingered about his mouth, although pain and\nsuffering had saddened that baby-face. He no longer tottered about the\nfloor, but was confined constantly to his bed. Not there even was he\nto remain more than a few short weeks. The angel of death came, and\nbore him to the Saviour's bosom. His friends looked at the beautiful\ncasket, and felt that the spirit which had inhabited it, and made it\nprecious, was no more there. They committed it tearfully to the grave,\nand, lonely and sorrowing, returned to their desolate home. The crib\nwas vacant--the tiny shoe had no owner--the rattle lay neglected.\nThere was no need of the noiseless step lest the sleeper should be\nawakened. Little Charley slept in death.\n\nHow sad and broken those loving hearts! Those parents were Christian\nparents, and they sorrowed not as those without hope. Jesus, their\nSaviour, had wept, and they knew their tears were not forbidden. One\nof the cords which bound them to earth was snapped asunder. They had\none child in heaven, there to be a pure and sinless spirit in the\nimmediate presence of his Father--God. There was comfort in the\nthought that Charley's tiny bark had safely passed over the sea of\nlife, and was securely anchored in the haven of eternal rest.\n\nCharley had a brother, Willie, two years older than himself. Little\ncould he know of death--but he knew he had no baby-brother now, and\nhis mother told him Charley was in heaven.\n\n\"I hope, mother,\" said he, \"the apostles will not get him.\"\n\n\"Why, my child?\"\n\n\"Because they did not want little children to go to Jesus,\" was his\nartless reply.\n\nThis little boy has recently removed, with his parents, to the city.\nHe does not like it as he did the green grass and shaded fields of the\ncountry. He feels lonely without the companionship of the trees and\nthe birds, and he wishes that \"God would take him right up to heaven\nto play with Charley.\"\n\nHow is it with you, my dear child? Are you ready to be taken \"right up\nto heaven?\" Do you love your Saviour? Do you obey your parents? Are\nyou truthful and conscientious? Do you study your Bible to learn all\nyou can about God, and what he would have you be and do? Do you pray\nto him daily for His blessing, and ask Him to keep you from sin? Do\nyou seek His forgiveness for all you have done that is wrong?\n\nSo live, that when the angel of death comes for you, he may carry you\nwhere Charley is, into the blessed home prepared for all who love God.\n_When_ He will come, you cannot know. Be always ready, and then He\nwill not find you unprepared.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nDARLING WILLIE.\n\n\nWillie was an active little boy, just large enough to be dressed in\nfrock and pantaloons. He was very affectionate, and everybody who knew\nhim loved him.\n\nWhen he left the green fields in the country, to come with his parents\nto the city, he did not feel so happy as in his pleasant home by the\nriver side, where the wild birds sung to him, and where he could watch\nthe branches of the old elm swaying in the breeze.\n\nIt was autumn when he came to town, and there were no flowers in the\nyard attached to his city home. The grass was brown and frost-bitten,\nand soon the white snow came and covered it. The stone walks were\nswept, and when it was not too cold, Willie could ride around the\nlittle square, seated on his velocipede. In his mother's parlour, he\ncould make houses with his blocks, or stables for his tin horses, and\noften he went out to walk or drive with his mother, who always enjoyed\ntaking him with her.\n\nThe winter passed away, and every month the strong cords of love were\nbinding him still more closely to the hearts of his friends. Spring\ncame--the fresh grass sprung up, and the dandelions opened their\nblossoms in Willie's playground. How he loved to look at them! Those\nblades of grass, and the yellow flowers, filled his heart with\ngladness. His eyes sparkled, and he could scarcely stand still as he\ntalked about them.\n\nWillie was, one day, sitting with his grandmother by the open window.\nThe sun had just sunk below the horizon, and the clouds were\ngorgeously tinted with his parting rays. Some of them were of a rich\ngolden hue, and others were dyed with rosy light. It was an\nexceedingly beautiful sunset, and Willie, who loved all nature, gazed\nfor some time in silent admiration. Then, looking up to his\ngrandmother's face, and pointing to the west,\n\n\"See, grandmother,\" said he, \"what a beautiful home Charley has!\"\n\n[Illustration: Willie was one day sitting with his grandmother by the\nopen window.]\n\nCharley was Willie's little brother, whom the angels had taken from\nearth, and carried to live with Jesus.\n\nHe thought Charley must have felt lonely when he first went to heaven;\nbut, as he would say, \"now he has got acquainted, he is very happy.\"\n\nSometimes Willie would ask his mother, \"Would you be lonesome without\nme, mother?\" It was always a pleasant thought to him that he might\nearly die and go to Jesus.\n\nWillie liked to look at the blue sky. Perhaps it was because he\nthought it was Charley's home. He watched every evening for the moon,\nwith her silvery light, and for the twinkling stars.\n\nAt one time, a cousin of his called to see him. He brought a basket\nwith him. Raising the cover, he said--\n\n\"Willie, come, look in my basket.\"\n\nWillie came as requested.\n\n\"Oh! I know what it is! It is a rabbit for me!\"\n\nSo it was. George opened the basket, and out jumped a white rabbit,\nwith pink eyes. It was a beautiful animal. Willie capered with\ndelight. He had a live plaything, and it pleased him more than the\nvelocipede, or his blocks, or any of his toys.\n\nWillie said he loved his cousin George for bringing him the rabbit,\nand his cousin Walter for sending it to him. They were happy because\nthey had made him so happy.\n\nNot long after this rabbit was added to Willie's amusements, very sad\ntidings came to the home of George and Walter. It was said that Willie\nwas dead. It seemed scarcely possible--for it was only a few days\nsince he had sent a message of love to them.\n\nSome member of the family immediately went to town, and called on\nWillie's father. It was indeed true that Willie was not there! He had\ngone to be with the angels. God had heard his prayer. Heaven was a\nbetter, safer, happier place for him than even his pleasant home, with\nhis fond parents, and he was taken \"right up there,\" as he wished, to\nbe with Charley.\n\nSaturday evening Willie went to his bed in apparent health. Sabbath\nmorning he complained of not feeling entirely well, and on Wednesday\nhe laid aside his garment of mortality, and put on the beautiful robes\nmade white in the blood of the Lamb, in the spirit-world. He was a\nlovely child when he dwelt with us here below; how very lovely he must\nbe in the bright world to which he has gone!\n\nHis mother often weeps when she thinks of him, and she misses him more\nthan any one but a mother can. There is no one to play with his\nblocks, or his tin horses, or his pretty rabbit. Yet Willie is very\nhappy, and his mother has no wish to recall him to earth, lonely and\ndesolate as is their once cheerful home.\n\nWillie will shed no more tears. He will never feel sad or lonely. He\nwill suffer neither pain, nor hunger, nor weariness. But we, who love\nhim, may weep, as did Jesus when Lazarus lay in the grave; and we\nshall never forget the sweet child, so full of life and love, who was\ngiven us for a little while, and then taken home to glory.\n\nDear children, who read about Willie, are you prepared to follow him\nand Charley, where they are gone to dwell with that Saviour who, when\nhe was on earth, took little children in his arms, and blessed them,\nand said, \"_of such is the kingdom of heaven_?\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nWIDOW CAHOON AND HER GRANDSON.\n\n\n\"I wish to make a call in ---- street,\" said a lady to me, as we\ntogether were visiting some of the poor of the city. \"There is a Mrs.\nSmith living there, a poor old woman nearly eighty years old. She is\ninfirm and partially blind. She has a little grandson, and she has no\nmeans with which to take care of him. We hope to persuade her to give\nhim to us, and let us find a good home, by adoption, for him.\"\n\nIt was a warm winter's morning. Snow had fallen the day before, but it\nwas rapidly disappearing. The foot sank in the melting mass at every\nstep. The crossings were muddy, and it required some skill to pick our\nway along dry-shod.\n\nWe turned into the street, and sought for the number which had been\ngiven us. We found it on the door of a low, shed-like building, old\nand out of repair.\n\n\"Does Mrs. Smith live here?\" we inquired.\n\n\"No, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Is there an old lady, who is almost blind, and who has a little\ngrandson, in the house?\"--we further asked, thinking Mrs. Smith might\nnot be known by name.\n\n\"No, ma'am. There is no such person here.\"\n\n\"Does she live in the neighbourhood?\"\n\n\"She may be in No. ----.\"\n\nWe made inquiries at several doors, dodging in quickly to avoid the\ngreat drops which came pattering down on the pavement from the\ngutterless eaves, but we could learn nothing of the object of our\nsearch.\n\nAt length we came to a grocery, and, stepping in by the mackerel\nbarrels which stood at the door, we repeated our inquiry--\n\n\"Can you tell us where Mrs. Smith lives? She is an old lady, almost\nblind, and has a little grandson.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I know her well. She is a deserving, needy woman.\"\n\nThe man followed us to the street to point out the house where she\nlived. As he was telling us, a woman passed by. He spoke to her,\nsaying,\n\n\"You know where Mrs. Smith lives--the old lady who is almost blind,\nand who has a little grandson?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Will you show these ladies the place?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nShe walked on with us till she came to a large tenement building, and\nthen directed us to a room in the upper story. We thanked her, and\nentered the narrow hall, and passed up the still narrower staircase.\n\nWe knocked at the door, and were bidden to enter. The old lady was not\nthere. We inquired for her again, and learned that she had just gone\nout. The woman said she would send for her. A boy, ten or twelve years\nold, went to find her. While he was gone, we talked with his\nmother,--a round-faced, good-natured, intelligent Irish woman. We\nasked her where Mrs. Smith lived, and she said she was most of the\ntime with her. Poor woman! she had only a living-room and a bed-room\nfor herself and four children, yet she was willing to share them with\nanother as poor and more helpless than herself.\n\nShe was a widow, too, and had no one to depend upon. Her husband died\nlast spring. During the summer she had provided for her family by\nwashing and cleaning, but this winter she finds it almost impossible\nto get work. One of the children is a babe, who was lying on a rough,\nunpainted board-cradle, rudely put together by some unaccustomed hand.\nThis infant had been taken care of during the summer by his brother,\nnot more than ten or twelve years old, while his mother was absent at\nwork. There was a little girl, about eight years old, who attends the\nIndustrial School. She was quite unwell, and had not been able to go\nout for several days. She sat in the great rocking-chair, looking sad\nand disconsolate, as most sick children do. She was comfortably\nclothed. Her dress she had received at the school, and had sewed on it\nherself doing all her little fingers could do to make it. Her hair was\nneatly combed. She was feverish and very thirsty. Sometimes she went\nto the pail herself for a cup of water, and sometimes her brother\nwould get it for her. He seemed kind, gentle, and sympathizing--a good\nexample for some more favoured boys.\n\nPretty soon the door opened, and an aged woman, bent with years and\nbreathing hard and painfully, entered the room. A boy, with a\ncomplexion fair and transparent, through which the blue veins showed\nthemselves, immediately followed her. She greeted us kindly, and took\na chair by my side, bending towards us that she might hear more\neasily, for she was almost deaf. She told us that since her daughter's\ndeath she had been entirely dependent on charity.\n\nAfter talking with her a short time, Mrs. B----, the lady accompanying\nme, gave her little grandson a penny to buy some candy. She did so,\nbecause she wished to talk with his grandmother about him, and thought\nhe had, perhaps, better not be in the room. So soon as he left, she\nasked the old lady if she had made up her mind to part with the\nchild. She had been spoken to a fortnight previously in regard to it\nby another lady, and seemed then unwilling that he should leave her.\nShe said she had come to the conclusion that she must give him up, for\nshe was too old and feeble to take care of him, and she was constantly\nanxious about him. She could not do for him all that he needed, and\nshe knew it would be much better for him to be adopted in some kind\nfamily, where he could be brought up as a son. She spoke of him most\ntenderly and affectionately. He was her earthly all. She had taken\ncare of him from his infancy. She came from Ireland for that very\npurpose. His father had died before he was old enough to remember him,\nand his mother had supported him by her own industry.\n\nThe grandmother's name was not Smith, as we called her. It was, as she\nsaid, widow Cahoon. The daughter's name was Smith, and the\nsunny-haired boy was David. Last May, Mrs. Smith died of cholera,\nleaving her aged mother homeless, and her beautiful boy an orphan.\n\nWhen David returned with a great piece of molasses-candy, he did not\nkeep it all himself. He divided it among the other children without\nbeing told to do so. This showed that he was a generous child, and\nloved to make others happy. When he had eaten his portion, his\ngrandmother washed his face, neck, and hands, and put on his best\nclothes, which his mother had made for him before her death. He\nlooked very tidy and comfortable in his brown overcoat and his new\nboots--a New-Year's present.\n\nThe grandmother tied up a pair of shoes and a few socks in a little\nbundle. When she handed it to David, he burst into tears. He felt that\nhe was really going from his dearest friend. She wept aloud for a few\nminutes, but when she saw how much it affected him, she wiped away her\ntears, and attempted to cheer him. He summoned his resolution and\nbecame once more calm.\n\nMrs. B---- took him by the hand, and led him down stairs. As he left\nthe room, I gave mine to his grandmother, who uplifted it in both\nher's, as if pleading, in silent agony, for strength to bear this new\ntrial. I shall never forget the expression of that wrinkled, up-turned\nface. Dear old grandmother! Who will comfort her now? David will not\nforget her, but he cannot put his arms around her neck, nor cheer her\nwith the sunlight of his bright face. She is alone--none of her\nkindred near. The lady who took charge of David will do what she can\nfor her, but her heart must yearn for the dear boy that poverty and\nage compelled her to give to the fostering care of strangers.\n\nWhen David reached the street, the tears were tracing their way over\nhis round, plump cheek, but soon a smile played around his mouth. Mrs.\nB---- took him into a toy-shop, and purchased for him a tin horse\nsuspended in a wheel, which he could roll about the room. He selected\nthis himself, and it was delightful to see with how much pleasure he\nlooked at it, as he carried it in his hand.\n\nWe concluded to make no more calls that day, but to take David\ndirectly to Mrs. B----'s. When his coat and cap were taken off, he\nbegan to roll the horse across the floor. Sometimes he would come and\nstand by my side, and examine it closely. I said to him--\n\n\"Have you ever been in the country?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. I was there a month, when we buried mother.\"\n\n\"Where were you?\"\n\n\"We were with Elek, grandma's son.\"\n\n\"Why doesn't your grandmother live with him?\"\n\n\"He isn't kind to her.\"\n\n\"Was his wife kind?\"\n\n\"No; she said she wouldn't live with him if grandma did.\"\n\n\"What did you see in the country?\"\n\n\"I saw the fields, and the trees, and horses, and cows.\"\n\n\"Did Elek have a cow?\"\n\n\"Yes; and she went away every day, and at night she came home, and\nthey milked her.\"\n\n\"Did you see any birds?\"\n\n\"I saw birds no bigger than that,\" said he, putting his hand over his\nhorse so as to hide more than half of it, \"and they sang all the time.\nAnd there were some chickens, that laid eggs, and then Elek's wife\nsold the eggs to the baker to pay for bread.\"\n\n\"And had you apples or peaches?\"\n\n\"I used to throw small stones at the apples, and knock them off. The\npeaches I could reach with my hand. I had just as many as I wanted.\"\n\nThe little orphan's month in the country had been a sunny spot in his\nmemory, clouded only by the unkindness of Elek towards the grandmother\nhe loved so much.\n\nHow strange it is that children can ever forget how much they owe\ntheir parents! When the widow Cahoon was young, she had watched over\nhis infancy. She had carried him in her arms, unmindful of her own\nweariness, and had done all for him that his helplessness required.\nBut now she is old; her eyes are dim; her hearing is impaired; her\nhands are tremulous, and she is unable to provide for herself. Yet\nElek's heart is hard. He has forgotten all her love, and will not even\ngive her a home. He cannot prosper.\n\nI well remember, when a child, what a fearful impression a passage\nfrom the \"words of Agur\" made on my mind: \"The eye that mocketh at his\nfather, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley\nshall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.\" \"Honour thy\nfather and mother, (which is the first commandment with promise,\")\nPaul writes to the Ephesian children, \"that it may be well with thee,\nand thou mayest live long on the earth.\"\n\nI should fear to hear Elek's future history. It must be dark and\nsorrowful. His poor old mother uttered a groan, when, as she was\ntalking about David's mother, I asked if she had any other children.\n\"He isn't kind to her,\" explained its meaning.\n\n    \"Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is\n    To have a thankless child.\"\n\nI left David with Mrs. B----, who will find him a home in some family\nwhere they wish to adopt a little son. \"He will make friends for\nhimself,\"--she said, confidently, and I felt so also, for his sweet,\nintelligent face is too attractive and winning not to find its way to\nsome loving heart.\n\nWhen Mrs. B---- talked with him about his mother, he wept. She soon\ncomforted him, and told him that God would provide for him. He seems\nto possess a sensitive nature, with, at the same time, the power of\nself-control.\n\nWho of you would like this orphan for an adopted brother? He is only\nfive years old. I have written to a kind lady of my acquaintance, who\nhas adopted two little girls, to inquire if she does not wish to add\nDavid to her household treasures. There are many such homeless\nchildren in New York, and it is an act of Christian charity to adopt\nand educate them, and one which is rich in blessings to every heart\nthat is open to receive the fatherless and motherless.\n\nMrs. B---- would like to have adopted David herself but she has so\nmuch to do for so many orphan children, that she concluded she had not\nthe time to devote to him. She sent him to a place known as the Home\nof the Friendless. This is a large brick house, built on purpose to\nshelter those who have no home of their own. There are always many\nchildren there, who are kindly taken care of till homes can be\nobtained for them. Those who are large enough attend school.\n\nI was so much interested in David that I often called to see him. The\nfirst call was made one day just before dinner. I looked about for my\nlittle friend, and found him in the wash-room. He was standing by a\ngreat towel, and wiping his fair, plump face as nicely as he could. I\nkissed his clean, rosy cheek, and inquired if he remembered me. He\nsmiled, and said, \"Yes, ma'am.\" He appeared quite happy and contented.\nHis teacher told me that he was a remarkably good boy.\n\nSeveral applications were made for David by those who heard his story,\nand found room in their hearts and houses for the fatherless and\nmotherless boy. His grandmother, knowing that she was too aged and\nfeeble to take care of him, gave him to the Home. It was a great trial\nto do so, but she loved him too well not to seek his best interests.\nShe was willing to live alone, uncheered by the presence and affection\nof her darling grandchild, if she could only feel that he would be\nkindly treated and educated by Christian people.\n\nA lady in Illinois wrote that she had a dear little son in heaven, and\nwanted David to come to her to supply his place in the home circle,\nwhere he would find those whom he might call \"father, mother, and\ngrandmother.\" A clergyman in Connecticut proposed to adopt him, and\nwas coming to New York the first of May to take him home, if it should\nbe thought best.\n\nWhile David was at the Home for the Friendless, his grandmother\noccupied a room not far from Mrs. B----'s. It was on the lower floor,\nso that she was no longer exhausted by going up so many flights of\nstairs. Several ladies united, and each sent her a dinner one day in\nthe week, and saw that she was provided with breakfast and tea. They\nfurnished her with comfortable clothing, for which she manifested much\ngratitude.\n\nIt was always pleasant to call upon \"Widow Cahoon,\" and hear her talk\nabout herself and her previous charge. She told us about his parents\nand grandparents. His father's father was a Methodist clergyman, and\nhis grandmother, Smith, was a most devout woman. She loved to talk of\ntheir excellencies of character, and the good they had accomplished. I\nnever heard her without being reminded of God's faithfulness in\nshowing mercy unto thousands of them that love him and keep his\ncommandments.\n\nOne day, when I was at Mrs. B----'s, \"Widow Cahoon\" was ushered into\nher private room--a back parlour on the second story. She was much out\nof breath, and it required some time for her to recover herself\nsufficiently to talk. At length she spoke of her children, some of\nwhom she hoped were living. Two sons and a daughter had come to\nAmerica long before she did, and had gone to Pennsylvania. She had not\nheard from them for twelve years. She had often prayed that she might\nsee them before she died, and she hoped still that she should. She had\nbeen the mother of eleven children, and here she was entirely\nalone,--no relative near her to care for her in her age and\nhelplessness. She was very desirous Mrs. B---- should write to\nPennsylvania to make inquiries about her children. It seemed almost a\nhopeless effort, but, to gratify her, Mrs. B---- wrote to the\npostmaster of the town where her sons were last heard from. In about a\nweek an answer came from the postmaster saying that he was well\nacquainted with James, and had seen him a short time previously. He\nspoke highly of him, as an industrious and respectable man, and one\nwho would be happy to provide for his mother. In regard to her other\nson, he said he did not know him personally. His reputation was good,\nand his circumstances were such that he could assist in the care of\nhis mother. From James the \"Widow Cahoon\" afterwards learned that her\ndaughter had married and moved farther west, but she had not been\nheard from for ten years. When Mrs. B---- read the letter to her, she\nwas much overcome, and the tears chased each other down her furrowed\ncheeks. \"Glory be to God!\" she exclaimed. \"He has lifted a load off my\nheart. I shall see my sons before I die. Bless the Lord that I ever\nsaw the like of you! I have been trying seven years to get that letter\nwritten!\"\n\nI had the pleasure of carrying to her a letter from James, and reading\nit to her myself. As I entered the room she was sitting by the little\nstove in a large rocking-chair, looking as comfortable as one could\nwish. She seemed very happy, and told me about the prospect of seeing\nher sons. \"They will send for me, and I shall go to them,\" was a\ncheering and delightful thought. She said she was expecting every day\na letter from James. When I told her I had brought it, her face\nlighted up, and she uttered expressions of thankfulness, evidently\nfrom a full and overflowing heart. She spoke of David, and of being\nonce more with him, if \"the boys should send for him.\" She wished to\ndo what was best for the child, and was still willing he should be\nadopted, if it was thought desirable. She expressed the utmost\nconfidence in Mrs. B----, and was willing to leave it all to her\njudgment. This was the last time I ever saw the \"Widow Cahoon,\" and we\nshall probably never meet again. She had no earthly treasure to confer\nupon me, but she gave me her blessing, and, I doubt not, will remember\nme in her prayers so long as she remains upon earth; and when the\nspirit-world is our home, I shall expect her face, unwrinkled by\nsorrow or age, to beam upon me a heavenly welcome. It was but little I\ndid for this poor widow, and yet that little has been rich in\nblessings to me, and may be to mine, for whom she fervently prayed.\n\nJames, in his second letter, sent a check to his mother to pay her\nfare from New York to Pennsylvania with a request that David might\naccompany her. He will provide for them both in future.\n\nSo soon as arrangements could be made, the now happy widow and her\nlittle grandson started, under the protection of a friend, for her new\nhome in the country where, I suppose, they now are. What a pleasure it\nmust be to James to have his mother once more with him, and to be\nable to do something for her who has done so much for him! Little\nDavid will again see the birds and the chickens, and be surrounded by\nkind and loving friends. The ladies of the Home will occasionally\ninquire about him, and if he needs their care they will provide for\nhim, as his grandmother made them his legal protectors. If I ever hear\nmore about David which I think will interest you, I shall write you\nagain in regard to him.\n\n[Illustration: Finis]","title":"The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":40005}