Arabs are we, Adventurers free, The chairs are our Camels: dried figs are our wares.
Over the hot desert sands we are travelling, Travelling on to Cairo gates. Rugs gathered in lumps Give our Camels their humps, And our supper is made of a few dried dates.
Sparingly must we drink of the waterskin, Waterskin made of a nursery jug. For the water must last Till the desert is past We must measure it out in the doll's little mug.
Here's the Simoom, with the blast of a hurricane, Hurricane whirling the sand in drifts. We must lie down beside Our Camels, and hideTill the storm blows past, and the darkness lifts.
Look! Yonder afar are Cairo's Minarets, Minarets glittering gold in the sun. A few leagues more And our travels are o'er, And the journey of Camel and rider is done.
F. W. Home.
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TEDDIE, THE HELPER.
"I'll give you two sovereigns for the five. It's a good price, but Imean it."
"I've told you I can't part with them," was Teddie Braham's reply tothis offer of his schoolfellow, Gerald Keith, to buy his pet rabbits."What, sell little Stripe, and Pickles, and old Brownie, and Spot, andLongears! I should be very badly off before I should do such a thing."
"Perhaps you think I haven't got the money. See for yourself," andGerald displayed three glittering sovereigns.
"Are they all yours?" Teddie asked in amazement.
"Yes. It was my birthday yesterday; mother and father each gave me one,and Uncle Dick the other. You've only to say the word and two of themare yours. You have such a lot of pets, you won't miss your rabbits."
But Teddie was not to be tempted. He shook his head, smiling a littlescornfully. Almost instantly, however, the smile changed into a look ofalarm. One of the coins slipped from its owner's hand, rolled along thepathway, and before either of the boys could stop it, fell down thegrating of a drain. For a moment Gerald, too, looked pale; then he brokeinto a laugh.
"It can't be helped," he said, "and there's plenty more where that camefrom. The worst of it is, mother told me not to carry the money aboutwith me; but she'll give me another sovereign quick enough if I ask her.My father, you know, is one of the richest men about here."
He said it boastingly, and Teddy, having left his schoolfellow where theroad branched off to their respective homes, went on his way, on thatsunshiny June afternoon, thinking, rather seriously, how pleasant itmust be to be as rich as Gerald. True, he had a great deal to make himhappy; but, though comfortably off, his parents were not rich, andTeddie's mind dwelt longingly on the pony, the beautiful littletricycle, and handsome gold watch, of which Gerald was the proudpossessor.
On reaching home, Teddie went straight to the drawing-room to find hismother. But a visitor was with her, and he had to wait before he couldask her to put on her hat and go out in the garden with him. He took upa book and sat down quietly. In a few minutes, however, his attentionwas caught by the conversation between the two ladies.
Mrs. Taylor, the visitor, told a sad story of a working-man, who, inconsequence of an accident, had been unable to earn a penny for severalweeks. His wife was also in bad health, and she and her seven youngchildren were in great distress. Mrs. Taylor was trying to collect somemoney to relieve the poor woman till her husband was again able to work,and she asked Mrs. Braham for a subscription. To Teddy's surprise, sheanswered,--
"I am sorry that I cannot help you in the matter."
"But the smallest sum will be acceptable," said Mrs. Taylor; "fiveshillings, or even half-a-crown."
"I cannot even give you half-a-crown," and Teddy's quick ears heard hismother's voice falter as she said the words.
"Then," said Mrs. Taylor coldly, "I suppose it is no good to ask you togive your usual yearly donation towards the summer treat for theSunday-school children?"
"It pains me to refuse you, but I must."
An uncomfortable silence followed. Mrs. Taylor rose to go, but Mrs.Braham motioned her to resume her seat.
"This must seem so strange to you," she said, "that I feel I mustexplain. My husband has had a sudden and very serious loss. He is now acomparatively poor man, and it would not be right for me to give, as Ihave hitherto been pleased and thankful to do."
Teddy could not bear to see tears in his mother's eyes. He went andstood by her side while Mrs. Taylor expressed her sympathy, and also hersorrow at having wounded Mrs. Braham's feelings. But Mrs. Braham said,with a smile, that no apology was needed; and then, having seen hervisitor to the hall-door, she returned to the drawing-room, and tookTeddie on her knee. He was eleven years old, but that was still hisfavorite seat. Very gently she put back the hair from his forehead andkissed him, and then suddenly she bent her head and burst into a fit ofweeping. Wise Teddie only pressed his arms more closely round her neck,and said nothing till the tears began to stop. Then he whispered,--
"Won't you tell me all about it, mother?"
"Dear, this is the first real trouble you have known," she answered,"and I am so sorry that your young, happy life should be clouded. If wecould keep the knowledge from you we would, but that is impossible."
Then she told him how his father had become surety for a friend, andexplained that this meant a promise to pay a certain sum of money inplace of the friend, if that friend should find himself unable to payit. Mr. Braham had made a promise to pay a large amount on thiscondition, and it had fallen on him to fulfil his word.
"Is father _quite_ poor now?" Teddie asked; "as poor as the people wholive in the cottages in the lane?"
"No, dear; but we shall have to be very careful. I shall send Mary awayand keep only one servant. In order to remain in the house we must letsome of our rooms, and this year, at any rate, there will be no holidayfor us at the seaside."
"I don't mind it for myself, mother," said Teddie lovingly, "I only mindit for you."
"But, darling, do you think you know what it means?" she asked. "Nopresents, no treats, very few pleasures of any kind. Can you meet allthis patiently and bravely? If you do you will carry out Christ'scommand: 'Bear ye one another's burdens,' for you will be helping yourfather and me to bear _our_ burden."
"I will try;" and though when Teddie raised his head from itsresting-place his eyes were wet, his face still wore a look of braveresolve.
It was a promise which he at once began to carry out in deed. It wouldbe hard to part with his rabbits, hard to go to Gerald and say he wouldaccept his offer after the somewhat scornful way in which he had beforerefused it. But he did not know _how_ much the sacrifice would costuntil he opened the hutch, and out came the little animals for theirevening meal. He took Stripe in his arms, and Brownie put her front pawson his knee, as if jealous of the caresses Stripe was getting. He felthe could not let them go. But the feeling only lasted a few minutes, andhe hadn't a single regret when next day he placed two sovereigns in hismother's hand.
She could only kiss him and thank him. Not on any account would she havetold him that had she known his intention she should not have allowedhim to carry it out.
I am glad to say that in a few years Mr. Braham fully regained the moneyhe had lost. But in better circumstances Teddie did not cease thoseloving acts of kindness and unselfishness which he tried so hard topractise for his mother and father's sake in their time of difficulty,and he still finds ways and means in which to obey that "law" of Christ:"Bear ye one another's burdens."
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OUR BOAT.
Ferdy and I quarrel sometimes, but not always. We don't likequarrelling, and yet somehow we can't help it; and Ferdy _will_ wanteverything his own way because he is the elder, and that isn't fair. Iought to have my way sometimes, I think.
Mother gave us a boat not long ago--a beautiful boat, with a sail and adingy and everything complete, and it was to be between us. So we
tookoff our shoes and stockings and went down by the quay to sail our boat.It sailed as nicely as any boat could, and we were so pleased with it,but in spite of that we began to quarrel. You see, Ferdy wanted to callthe boat the "Amy," after Amy Stevens, a little girl we have met on thebeach this summer. Ferdy thinks her as pretty as a fairy, but I don't,though she's very jolly sometimes, and can play at anything. Well, Ferdy_would_ have the boat called "Amy," and I wanted it to be "Isabel,"after mother, because she gave us the boat, and we love her better thanany one else in the world. And then we quarrelled. I suppose we made anoise--quarrelling people generally do--for suddenly we found that Amywas watching and