It was ascertained the next day that one of the bad boys crept along inthe back part of the yard where the children were playing, and by anunnatural sound of his voice made the noise that so alarmed the threelittle children. Susy, who was the youngest, did not forget it forsometime; and all of them were afraid to go alone into the lower roomfor many weeks.
This was very wrong in the bad boy; he might have injured the childrenat play so they would never have recovered from it. I have known youngchildren to be so frightened as never to forget the impression all theirlife-time. How much better for the boy to have been like these goodchildren, and joined with them in their pleasant pastimes. Never do anything that will give sorrow and pain to others, but live and act towardseach other while in youth, so as to enable you to review your life withpleasure, and to meet with the approbation of your Heavenly Father.
ARTHUR AND HIS APPLE TREE.
One summer day little William was sitting in the garden chair beside hismother, under the shade of a large cherry tree which stood on the grassplot in front of the house. He was reading in a little book. After hehad been reading sometime, he looked up to his mother, and said:
"Mother, will you tell me what is the meaning of 'you must return goodfor evil?'"
His mother replied: "I will tell you a story that will explain it.
"I knew a little boy," she said, "whose name was Arthur Scott; he livedwith his grandmamma, who loved him very much, and who wished that hemight grow up to be a good man. Little Arthur had a garden of his own,and in it grew an apple tree, which was then very small, but to hisgreat joy had upon it two fine rosy-cheeked apples, the first ones ithad produced. Arthur wished to taste of them very much to know if theywere sweet or sour; but he was not a selfish boy, and he says to hisgrandmother one morning:
"'I think I shall leave my apples on the tree till my birthday, thenpapa and mamma and sister Fanny will come and see me, and we will eatthem together.'
"'A very good thought,' said his grandmother; 'and you shall gather themyourself.'
"It seemed a long time for him to wait; but the birthday came at last,and in the morning as soon as he was dressed he ran into his garden togather his apples; but lo! they were gone. A naughty boy who saw themhanging on the tree, had climbed over the garden wall and stolen them.
"Arthur felt very sorry about losing his apples, and he began to cry,but he soon wiped his eyes, and said to his grandmother:
"'It is hard to lose my nice apples, but it was much worse for thatnaughty boy to commit so great a sin as to steal them. I am sure Godmust be very angry with him; and I will go and kneel down and ask God toforgive him.'
"So he went and prayed for the boy who had stolen his apples. Now,William, do you not think that was returning good for evil?"
"O, yes," said William; "and I thank you, mother, for your pretty story.I now understand what my new book means." Little Arthur grew to be aman, and always bore a good name.
THE MOTHERLESS BIRDS.
There were two men who were neighbors to each other, living in a distantcountry where they had to labor hard for the support of their families.One of them was greatly troubled to know who would take care of hischildren if he should die. But the other man was not so troubled, andwas always very cheerful, saying to his neighbor: "Never distrustProvidence."
One day as the sorrowful man was laboring in the fields, sad and castdown, he saw some little birds enter a bush, go out and then returnagain. He went towards the bush, and saw two nests side by side, and inboth nests some little birds, newly hatched and still without feathers.He saw the old birds go in a number of times, and they carried in theirbills food to give their little ones.
At one time, as one of the mothers returned with her beak full, a largevulture seized her and carried her away; and the poor mother, strugglingvainly under its talons, uttered piercing cries. He thought the littleyoung birds must certainly die, as they had now no mother to take careof them. He felt so bad about them that he did not sleep any that night.The next day, on returning to the fields, he said to himself: "I willsee the little ones of this poor mother, some without doubt have alreadyperished."
He went up to the bush, and saw that the little ones in both nests wereall alive and well. He was very much surprised at this, and he hidhimself behind the bush to see what would happen. After a little time heheard a crying of the birds, and soon the second mother came flying intothe bush with her beak full of food, and distributed it all among thelittle birds in both nests. He now saw that the orphan birds were aswell provided for as when their own mother was living.
In the evening he related the whole story to his neighbor, and said tohim:
"I will never distress myself again about who will take care of mychildren, if I should die before them."
His neighbor replied: "Let us always believe, hope, love, and pursue ourcourse in peace. If you die before me, I take care of your children,and if I die before you, you will be a father to mine; and if we areboth taken away before our children are able to provide for themselves,there is a Father in heaven."
STORY ABOUT A ROBBER.
I will tell you a true story about a robber. A gentleman was oncetravelling through a very unfrequented road, alone in a chaise, in thelatter part of the day. There was no house nor a sign of a human beingthere. It was a very lonely road. Presently at a sudden turn in theroad, directly towards his horse's head, a man came out of the woods.The gentleman was convinced by his appearance that he came for no goodpurpose. He immediately stopped his horse, and asked the stranger toget in and ride. The man hesitated a moment, and then stepped into thechaise. The gentleman commenced talking with him about the loneliness ofthe road, and observed that it would be an admirable place for a robberyif any one was so disposed. He proceeded to speak of robbery andcriminals, and how he thought they should be sought out and instructed,and if possible reformed; and that we ought to try to convert and reformthem; and then he began to tell him what course he should take with aman who should attempt to rob him. He told him that he should give himall his money first, and then begin to talk kindly to him, and show theevil consequences of his course of life. He then said:
"Yes, I would die on the spot rather than to injure a hair of his head."
They soon came to another road, when the man, who had silently listenedto all the gentleman had said, desired to get out, saying that his homelay in that direction. The gentleman stopped his horse, and the man gotout, took his adviser by the hand, saying:
"I thank you, sir, for this ride and for all you have said to me; Ishall never forget any part of it. When I met you, it was my intentionto rob you. I could easily have done so, but your kind act and your kindwords put better thoughts into my heart. I think I never shall be guiltyof the crime you have saved me from committing this afternoon. I thankGod for having met you; you have made me a better man."
GOOD COMPANIONS.
One day, says a Persian poet, I saw a bunch of roses, and in the midstof them grew a tuft of grass.
"How," I cried to the grass, "does a poor plant like you dare to befound in the company of roses?"
And I ran to tear away the tuft, when the grass replied:
"Spare me! It is true, I am not a rose; but you will perceive from myperfume that I have been among the roses."
This is a very pretty fable for young people. It makes us recollect oneof the proverbs of Solomon: "He that walketh with wise men shall bewise; but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." Young people like tohave companions, and it is proper that they should have them. If we hadno one to associate with, we should be unhappy. We need friends that wemay confide in, and that we may tell them what we feel and what wethink. But we must take care as to the choice of friends; for just asthe grass in the fable imbibed the scent of the roses, so we become likethose with whom we associate.
BERTIE'S BOX.
A very little boy by the name of "Bertie," kept a box in which hedeposited his little treasures. After he died his mother took the keyand open
ed it. It was full of all sorts of things. There were specimensof stones, and shells, and moss, and grass, and dried flowers. Therewere, also, curious flies, found dead; but they were not destroyed byhim, as he would never sacrifice a short sunny existence for selfgratification. There were a number of books and small ornamental toyswhich had been given him--a drawing slate with pencils, colored chalks,a small box of colors, some little plates which he had colored in hisown untaught style--a commenced copy of the hymn, "I know that myRedeemer liveth"--an unfinished letter to his grandpapa, and some tornleaves which he had found with passages of scripture upon them--a copyof the "lines on the death of an only son." Also a number of sketches ofmissionary stations, chapels and schools, which he had cut out andcolored. His mother once asked him why he cut them out, saying, thatthere might be some reading on the back of the pieces worth saving. "Ohno, mamma," he replied, "I looked carefully at the backs first." In thebox was a purse containing three shillings.
Such were the treasures which this little lamb had left when he died.And as you will be pleased to know what was done with the box oftreasures, I will tell you. "The thought struck me," says his mother,"that after he was gone, I should not know what to do with Bertie's Boxof treasures; I therefore asked him what I should do with them." Hereplied, "Oh, give half to God and half to the children, and be sure todivide them fairly." The money in the box was devoted to the purchase ofthe Bible--and a collecting box made in the form of a Bible; for, saidhe, "when my friends come and give money to the children, then holdBertie's box for Bertie's share." This is a good example for allchildren. Your little treasures may serve a good purpose when you die.
THE CHILD AND FLOWER.
The Atheist in his garden stood, At twilight's pensive hour, His little daughter by his side, Was gazing on a flower.
"Oh, pick that little blossom, Pa," The little prattler said, "It is the fairest one that blooms Within that lowly bed."
The father plucked the chosen flower, And gave it to his child; With parted lips and sparkling eye, She seized the gift and smiled.
"O Pa--who made this pretty flower, This little violet blue; Who gave it such a fragrant smell, And such a lovely hue?"
A change came o'er the father's brow, His eye grew strangely wild, New thoughts within him had been stirred By that sweet artless child.
The truth flashed on the father's mind, The truth in all its power, "There is a God, my child," said he, "Who made that little flower."
ANNE CLEAVELAND.
Anne was the daughter of a wealthy farmer. She had a good New Englandschool education, and was well bred and well taught at home in thevirtues and manners that constitute domestic social life. Her fatherdied a year before her marriage. He left a will dividing his propertyequally between his son and daughter, giving to the son the homesteadwith all its accumulated riches, and to the daughter the largest shareof the personal property, amounting to 6 or 7000 dollars. This littlefortune became at Anne's marriage the property of her husband. It wouldseem that the property of a woman received from her father should beher's. But the laws of a barbarous age fix it otherwise.
Anne married John Warren, who was the youngest child, daintily bred byhis parents. He opened a dry goods store in a small town in the vicinityof B----, where he invested Anne's property. He was a farmer, and didnot think of the qualifications necessary to a successful merchant. Forfive or six years he went on tolerably, living _genteelly_ and_recklessly_, expecting that every year's gain would make up the excessof the past. When sixteen years of their married life had passed, theywere living in a single room in the crowded street of R----. Every pennyof the inheritance was gone--three children had died--three survived; agirl of fifteen years, whom the mother was educating to be ateacher--boy of twelve who was living at home, and Jessy, a pale,delicate, little struggler for life, three years old.
Mrs. W---- was much changed in these sixteen years. Her round bloomingcheek was pale and sunken, her dark chestnut hair had become thin andgray, her bright eyes, over-tasked by use and watching, were faded, andher whole person shrunken. Yet she had gained a great victory. Yes, itwas a precious pearl. And you will wish to know what it was. It was agentle submission and resignation--a patience under all her afflictions.But learn a lesson. Take care to whom you give your hand in marriage.
THE ORPHAN'S VOYAGE.
Two little orphan boys, whose parents died in a foreign land, were puton board a vessel to be taken home to their relatives and friends. On abitter cold night, when the north-east winds sang through the shrouds ofthe vessel, the little boys were crouched on deck behind a bale ofgoods, to sleep for the night. The eldest boy wrapt around his youngerbrother his little cloak, to shield him from the surf and sleet, andthen drew him close to his side and said to him, "the night will not belong, and as the wind blows we shall the sooner reach our home and seethe peet fire glow." So he tried to cheer his little brother, and toldhim to go to sleep and forget the cold night and think about the morningthat would come. They both soon sank to sleep on the cold deck, huddledclose to each other, and locked close in each other's arms. The steeragepassengers were all down below, snugly stowed away in their warm berths,and forgot all about the cold wind and the frost. When the morning camethe land appeared, and the passengers began to pace the deck, and as thevessel moved along they tried some well known spot to trace.
Only the orphans do not stir, Of all this bustling train; They reached _their home_, this very night, They will not stir again! The winter's breath proved kind to them, And ended all their pain.
But in their deep and freezing sleep, Clasped rigid to each other, In dreams they cried, "the bright morn breaks, Home! home! is here, my brother. The angel death, has been our friend, We come! dear father, mother!"
LOOK UP.
A little boy went to sea with his father to learn to be a sailor. Oneday, his father said to him, "Come, my boy, you will never be a sailorif you don't learn to climb."
The boy was very ambitious, and soon scrambled up to the top of therigging; but when he saw at what a height he was he began to befrightened, and called out, "Oh, father, I shall fall, what shall I do?"
"Look up--look up, my son," said his father; "if you look down you willbe giddy; but if you keep looking up to the flag at the top of the mastyou will descend safely." The boy followed his father's advice, and sooncame down to the deck of the vessel in safety. You may learn from thisstory, to look up to Jesus, as the highest example, and as the Saviourof mankind.
THE FLOWER THAT LOOKS UP.
"What beautiful things flowers are," said one of the party of littlegirls who were arranging the flowers they had gathered in the pleasantfields. "Which flower would you rather be like, Helen?"
"Just as if there would be any choice," said Laura. "I like the Rose. Ishould like to be queen of flowers, or none." Laura was naturally veryproud.
For my part, observed Helen, I should like to resemble the_Rhododendron_; when any one touches it, or shakes it roughly, itscatters a shower of honey dew from its roseate cups, teaching us toshower blessings upon our enemies. Oh, who does not wish to be as meekas this flower? It is very difficult, I know, said Helen; but we aretaught to possess a meek and lowly spirit.
"It is difficult, I know," said Lucy, "if we trust to our own strength.It is only when my father looks at me in his kind manner, that I haveany control of myself. What a pity it is that we cannot always rememberthat the eye of our Heavenly Father is upon us." "I wish I could," saidHelen.
"Now, Clara, we are waiting for you," said Laura. Clara smiled; andimmediately chose the pale woodbine, or convolvulus, which so carelesslywinds in and out among the bushes--this is an emblem of lovingtenderness.
"Now what says Lucy?" exclaimed Helen.
"I think I can guess," said Clara; "either a violet, or a heart's ease.Am I right?"
"Not quite," said Lucy, "althou
gh both the flowers you have mentioned,are great favorites of mine. But I think I should like to resemble thedaisy, most, because it is always looking upward."
Certainly Lucy made a wise choice. What more do we require forhappiness, than to be able, let the cloud be ever so dark, to lookupward with trusting faith in God.
THE WAYSIDE FLOWER.
There's a moral, my child, In the wayside flower; There's an emblem of life In its short-lived hour. It smiles in the sunshine And weeps in the shower, And the footstep falls On the wayside flower.
Now see, my dear child, In the wayside flower, The joys and the sorrows Of life's passing hour. The footsteps of Time Hasten on in its power; And soon we must fall Like the wayside flower.
Yet know, my dear child, That the wayside flower Will revive in its season And bloom its brief hour; That again we shall blossom In beauty and power, Where the foot never falls On the wayside flower.
THE FARMER.
The Farmer ploughs and sows his seed, 'Tis all that he can do; He cannot make the dry seed grow, Nor give it rain and dew.