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Maps, plates, cherts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratioa. Those too large to be entirely included in one OKposuro ara filmed beginning in the upper loft hend corner, left to right and top to bottom, aa many frames aa required. The following diagrams illustrate tho method: Lea cartes, planches, tableeux, etc., peuvent Atre fiimte i doe taux da rMuction diffAronts. Lorsque le document est trop grend pour Atre roproduit en un soul ciichA. ii est filmA A psrtir do I'angia supArieur geuche. do gauche A droite. ot do haut en bee. on prenant le nombre d'imagea nAcaeaaira. Las diagremmes suivsnts iilustrent le mAthodo. 1 2 3 ■-* tBl^itl«t» IcilOQt,. '^v >■•■ "t* III ' »\ / THB M^TROPOimN SECOND READER: I II OARBTULLT ARRAHOKD IN PROSE AND FOR THE USE OF •'««:"?5"?i''gg^ 'jiTWiiilia^SiaafiTtiBri"'; ' >***' r«r«r«vlii« BrA*JLtA]»Ill*oa. #' V^- Thirb Is neoeflsarify but fitde differeiioe between the First and Second Readem it is the same idea a iittle Inrtiber derek^ped. The children who nse the Second Beader ape bat little in advance of those who nse the First The siiine stories interaat Ibtoi, te same pictores are admired, the same spdliag lessons are to be mastered. The k^Kms^ how* ever, are somewhat different in ihdr sfyle and character, addreaiing themselTes to the expanding minds of the learners, yet atifl preserving the simplidly «iid trawqiiiiiy adapted to the nndenitanding of the child. A little more poetcj has bena admiMl iMK^ this second bocikf as Ire tUbk that flMiiMr life* portant triltti^Ml^ ^^1^ on thui^il bgr die h^p of BMrioal ipDoben* Tira|pillil '. i«Maiaa 6 PBSVAOS. tji : ■ ,; has eyier been found an eticient aid to the acqiniement of knowledge by the very young, and hence it is that we hare, admitted a large number of pieces, on various subjects, among the prose matter of the Second Reader. The spelling is only' a degree more advanced, as w^ hsive thcmght it us^ul to keep the earlier spdOing-leisons in the pApii^s mind. :\ In the Sscottd as well as in liie First Reader, We have strictly fidlbwed the advice of the saintly F^nelon. Speaking of children, he says: **Glive theiil books adorned with beau- tiM pictures and weli^formed characters; all that pleases the imaginatilm &dlitates study. S^ect books Ml of tskiiM and pleasing stones, liien be not afirttid tiluit' the iMd will not learn to read perfecfiy.^ tietlpni pronounce natu- rally aa h#^eiks; oHh^ fKXias are always bad, ind savor of college deehunationa l^dn his tengtie becomes freer, his ohest strong^, and ^ haibit of veadbg more frequent, he will «ead wliMlut dlffiei%v wlA more grace, and %\r I I I I i » i mwMMm tmrnmrm 5SSS r, mtt' i ' ' Tmmw^em, more dii^idllj.** WiB lam mxv^^ tben, as fiir as th^ limits of ^tili^fi^ Yoliitiiet will admit to realiie^ tlui- advice of tjiie lUnsfcrioiig Archbishop. , The ejignmnjgs have been cai«fiilly desired to interest and ftwaken tiboitglitil of piety in Utde children ; fnd the lessons of easy leading which iikef illastratc? have been taken from Canon Sishmidt, Faber, and other Callidic anthonk t«.-i1i1ti'riti.r » W.'..:^i '■.:■: ! ■ i> ■ if^> :< "^ S ' t « L a m. nr. V. VL vn. vm. IX. X. XL XIL XUL XIV. XV. XVL XVIL CONTENTS, ^be Gnudkn Angtl . . ••• The IbnodBntwin • *•• •. TlMBoblfi.. TiMOnitkm », Gbild> Moniiig Hjnn. . . TlM ForgetlU lifetle Girl. MbtiMr, what it DMtht ., TIm Bishop and his Bircb. TlM,Foiir SatMM •"SnflbrLUttoOhndTCiito TULortOhUa OdnMidAbal » VUtfainGod TIm Stokn.Plato Hm Stolea Ftott C^XmiMmmiO IlM]flB«rMi4Mi8oai Hm Anfili of BilMahMii ••• .«.« .^1 ..^ 12 ...« 40 ....17 ^» m J5 so oooMiiiitoMe**. SB tltfAii|lMfMogr • •••••« * XIX. Tkm CAmniiV Oboki* #••• ..n* •••••k •< ^ XXL 0Wimh1hmak((knHmmti) * . JCXQl Th» IWtMifl ogitowtw « XZIV. TlMliif • ^*» p*tf • ••• •*••< ••■>•••• • • • • • t5 41 61 08 il5 «7 fiQ fa 74 76 « XXVL uvn. 11m AsMteilMI S% !R»iitll»lMiib. ..*... .»«> HUKtUt Iiwril (O w i tf m ni) , . ». 84 1, 1 ii i i •sw :SS3S li iw'i I' ll ■"ifwrt ...>.. ffl «B 10 • •!>••• 67 &> >••••• U > •• • •• $0 <^ • ••» 74 79 79 m u tt M 'tt M « tt U M tt M M M M tt 4t tt M M tt « tt tt tt « M M M M XXXL XXXIL XXXTTL XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVL XXXVH. xxxvm. XXXIX. XL. XIX XUL xLin. xuv. XLV. XLVL xLva XLvm. •XLIX L. LL •* m. TJTT. uv. LV. LVL Lvn. LVtEL All Bviniiiig S|IMM . * n m >_* X]r«ir€hnMlbrOUIdNB M Wnii«MidIikLittk8irtw 97 little XUen*! May Song 109 The Belf-WUled Boy ....*... IDS HeooniMtorwtwitiiiamyHiirt... 109 TheBedbmtst 106 Going to School Ill Abraluuit*t SaorUloe... 114 TlMOikw 117 St AngeU's Vldon ^.... 196 The Better Lund 198 The Bird** Nest ^ 190 Prayer i.... 199 The Fold and the Shepherd 199 TheOridMii*eBeeoUeotioaiof*llb^ir 199 St Franeb de Salee 197 The MeMenger Aogil 140 StVinoentdePanl.... 149 The Angels 149 Joseph and his Bretfaran 149 The Oro« and tiie Flower in StAloyrfqs.... 194 AKl|hfcF«fi9«r. 190 Thedraiit^thvWvj'^lde 191 OMahtaittta*...... 199 FhffipVDwOi..^ 199 TbeBH^Baa.... ••••«. 199 Letttr «s lira Uttt leMH. ..s^^ .|««4 to tliifer TeidMia bkbfliia]lieii«id^F)BOf.«UM W% i ! Th« WMiplBg Angtl 179 BalBf « 181 SebiMtatii GouMi 184 SebMtiMkQoiiMi (^;nll&MM({).. 189 GratitndetotlMSQpi^eiMBdQg 194 The Diiob«U«nt Boy 196 AeknowlMlgniMit of Dirine F/kron 198 The YivtaowQiiMii.. ...*....« 900 OrMlioiiaiidProTldMMfr;...*^ 902 What it !• to have a Bad OoDlefenM. ... 904 TheFaUofthaLeaf.. 90T LitOaManle.. ..« 10^ Littia Joseph........ 909 ThfrBeiBdaer — 911 ThaOonMaioii 918 1telhitihlidBfl||v« ••••••••••• 916 10 ■MO] vLZ. u LXI. M UUL U Lzm. u* LXIV. M LXV. U LXVL U LXVIL M Lxvra. U . LXIX. M LXX. U LXXL a T.TIPTT u Lxxm. '•4, LXXIV. -* LXXV. i^i^ •WMMMMIMiHM :.)»^ u SECOND READER. i 111 I II 9 aii-gel k)y-ing mom-ing, lE&SON I. leave pnj*^ home, hmn^-ble kbeel heart weak TRI QJJJiRPlAM AVeiL. L TkEAB en^fell crNr al my nde» ^ H^w hiiiig mm mm H Td kite th/iMntie jn h^i^ gJi$^^" i!' 12 BBOOND RBADBB. 2. And when, dear Spirit! I kneel down, Morning and night to prayeiv ' Something there is within my heart Which tells me thou art thnre. 5. Then for thy sake, dear angel I now More humble will I be : But I am weak, and when I &II, Oh, weary not for me. 4 Oh, weary not, but love me still. For Mary^s sakfe, thy queen ; She never tired of me, though I Her wc^ of sons have been. 6. 6l||;will reward thee with a smile; ^ou knowest what 'tis worth! ' For Mar}^*s smiles each day convert i *^^e handest hearts on earth. O.^lrhJ^n lov^me, love me, angel dear! And I will love thee miSte ; And help me when my soul is cast Upon the '3temal diore. ' ■ ^•» per-oeiv-ed oom-meno-ed fear-fiiMy lESSON II. town hol-low storm ^uick-ly voice light-ning de-voutly or-der-ed hap-pen-ed ■^1^ .^' THB THUMDBB8T0RM. 13 THB .THUNDBBBTORK. FRANK, a little boy from the town, had been gathering berries in a wood. As he was abont to retom home again, a storm aroM; :3sss : I u BIO&HD BSADBH. it commenced to rain, lightei^ and thander. Frank was very mnch albdd, mdL crept into a hol- low oak near the road, for he did not know that high trees are liable to be rtmok bj lightning. 2. All at (moo, he heard a voice callipg, ^^ Frank 1 FirankI come— -oh I ccime ont qnick- I7 ! " Frank crept oat from the hoEoir tree, and, almost at that Teij instant, the lightning stnick the tree, and the thnnder pealed fearfolly. ' 8. The earth tremlued beneath the terrified boy, and it semned to him as if he stood in the midst of fire* No i^nry, howerer, had hap- pened to hna ; and he ezdaimed, as he prayed with nplifted hands: ^*The roice must We come from hefiivML It is Thou, my good God, who hasi saved me; thsoiks be to Thee I'* 4 But the voice er^ out once more: — *' Frank ! Frank I do yon ^t hear met*' and he now perceived, for the first time^ that it was a peasant woman who Was 80.oaSing oat 5. FralOc^J^SQll^idEII^^^^ ''Here I am ; what do yon wtot idfeme T " Oh," re- plied the Somali, '*ii ithm npt^yoa I meant, bat v^ oWtt Mttb F^k, whd has been irat^ni the ge^ on tiie bank of thfl brook yoi^de^^ ai^ most have taMi absker from ^ moam =SSSS33ir THB tH0HDBR8TOBM. U somewhere hereabonta See, here he comes at .last, out of the boshes.** 6. Frank, the town bo^ now told her how he had taken her voice forN^ voice from heaven^ The womim folded her hands devontly, and said: *^0h, mj childf you 8honI(ri3!e lio less thankM for Itiis. 7. *^ The voice caii^, indeed, from the mouth of an humble peasant; but God so ordered it, that I should crjceut aloud, .and should call jou b j nasne, although I kneir nothing at all ibotit you. It id He who has re»$ued j(m fi^m the gre|A daager to iFhidijrou hive bee&expoaedl" a '' Yei^ ye^I** cded Frank, with tears in his eyes; ** €bd haa made use of yowt rcnck^ in order to save me; it was^ indeed, you who called ihe, but, nevertheless, the hdp came frtonGodl", Ddem it not ohttnce, wbifteW befidl-^ One iiU-wiM Hind dispoMth all. depth wduld onunbi'' IWi LESSON III. peas-ant oon-id4ng man creature e-pen-ed gU^ wm-dow oto-iib^ ' farvi 111 n il Il l i W W III |i || i H i)ii» III I II mmi/"'- / z':.-^ 16 8I0OMP BIADBB. V TBI BOBIN. \k ^ ROBIN came in the depth of winter to the •^ window of a pious peaaant, as if it wonld like to come in. Then ike peasant qpened his window, and took the confiding little creature kindlj into his house. So it pi^ed np th$ crumbs which fell from his table, and his chil- dren loyed and cherished the little bird. 2. But when the spring returned, and the bushes and trees put forth leaves, the peasant opened his window ; — and Uie little guest flew into the wood hard by, built its nest, and sang merrily. 3. And behold, at the return of winter, the robin oame back to the house of the peasant, and its n^ate came with it The man and his children were y^ glad when they saw the two vmMmm^kmoM. 17 HtUe hkdB, which looilcod it them to ooiifi#sgly wit}i their bright ;€JM, 4 And the tM^tm wMh *t Th« litOe birds look at UB as if th^ W9r6 gdoig to say some- thing/' "^ 5. And dy^ fiitto* fniswcsed : ** If they oonld speak, thej would iMij: Kindness begets kind- ness, and lore begets loye." •»*^ ssrcred scrip-tores lir-ing crea-tnre dark-ness lESSOK IV. sec-ond re-firesh-ed fiU-ed be-gin-mng do-min-ion csM-ed fir-ma-ment breath-ed flow-ed throng-ed bean-ti-fhl 0ep4k-rat-ed wi^-ont THB OBSltlOK — ADAM AITD 9TB- OABDBll OF BDBB. ponr-ed sii-gle -TUB FROM the Sacred Scriptures we learn tibat God cnreated the heavens and the earth ; that the earth in the begiiming was withont form, and that no living creatures were upcm it; and that al wis ^kness. Then Ckxl spoke and sfedd: «'Let there be lig^t,** ac^U|^ made, and spread abroad OVOT ^e eavtL NAm ii » M » «»i 'l i t t 1" Urn I 18 .MAA 8M0f D UtAO^It. 1 *'■ I .2. God spdkd it fieooad tiiiie ttddsaid: ^^Let there be the firmament," ted the beaiitiM bine, sky oame into bei^g. Hd bronght forth trees and grass, herbs and flow-' ers, of every variety. The birds of the air wtoe created, and the woodi and fields were filled with ^tgfie and beasts of every kind^ and the waters of the sea and of thei riveni were thronged with fishesi 4 The ^arth and the heavens were now made, and they were beantiM to look upon; bnt in the whole earth there was not a single human being to enjoy it, and to praise its great and bountiful Creator. Then dod said: ^tLet us make man to our. image, and likeness; he diall have dominion over the fishes of the sea, the birds of the air, Hie bBSta of the field, and over the whole earth." >5. And, Ho made man^ut ofthe day of 'the earth, breathed into him the breath of Hisj and called him Adam, Then God cadt Adam into ■^.^ ^l | I I i lj W . ll . liI i l 2^.: v&s iomMMtton. m ■HkhMUaMliftktaHMIIMMl a deep sleep, and wlilb he was asleep, He took from the side of Adam a rib, and from it He made the first woman. Whom he called JEhe, And when Adam awoke, and saw for ike first time his beantifhl companion, he was filled with joy. 6. God placed Adam and Ere in a beantifhl garden, culled Paradise, or Eden. !this delight- ful garden was filled with the most beantifnl trees, which bore the sweetest blossoms and fruit; flowers of eveijr kind and color and^^<»r abounded in it ; and through the nudst flowed a sparkling ^spring, which, di-vidhig itself into four streams, watered the whole gwrden; 7. All the animals were mild and obedient to Adam ; even the lion would lie at his feet and would not hurt him. Birds of the most beauti- ful plumage flew firom tree to tree^ and ^ed the groves with their sweet songs; and every thing was there to tender Adam and Eve ha.|»]^. / mom-mg a-round ris-ing a-long LESSON T. near-er k^p^er •-11? a*loiie MHtiMMMMiHNMlr^ with-in spir-it k^t slept harm hear brow keep Mb rdad pour iarm !■■ ■■■iflii Hi nm-^mmmtmmdim 20 BBOOVD BIADBE. CHILD 8 MORNDra HTMH TO ITS QOAXDIAX ANQBL. L p UARDIAN angel I thoa hast kept ^ ^ Watch around me while! slept: Free from hanii and perO, now With the cross I sign my brow. X Risen with the rising son, Forth I go, bat not alone: For mj keeper and my gnide, Thou art ever by my side. 3. Pour then erer in my ear Woitls which angels joy to hear; Curb my tongne and thoughts within, And keep my wandering eyo from sin : T8I FOEOBV#VL LITT&l 01 RL. 31 1 And lile mj step ak»g tibid road WMriK MngB me nealrer to mj Ood. 4 Gld^totlieVaili«rbe;'^ ; Gknjf/Jesas, onto th^. And Holy Ghost, eternal thiea Amok m» ^ lit-tle ten-dir tieart-ed shared per-feet les-Bon lESSOI YI. tfon-ble ▼er-y 3iB-ter oer-tain mo-ment goM-en caU-ing al-wsys ly-ing k)ok-ing^ ef^rand langh-ed U^dy de-]nrive ahonl-der ex-penae TBS rOBOBTFUL LITTLB OIBL. LITTLB Hinnie was a tender-hearted girl, who wilHngly shared aU ahe had with oth- ers, gave dothea to {Kxir diildren, ^ke aweetly to every one, and dwaya went to daas with perfect lessona 2. Mhmie had one great ftlling, however, and it bronght her into trouble r&j often. I wiU ten yon something that she did, and yon will then see what her &nlt was. 3. One day she was feeding her Ut# im a ■Ma# 22 8B00VD low table, when she heard her sister calling her at the door. She ran to the door, certain that she would be back in a moment 4. She found her sister Mary there, with her apttm full of pretty pebblea " Come, Minnie,*' said she, V go ^^ ni^ cu^cL we will find some more. \ *^ 5. M!nm#uihonght no mcure of the bird, bnt M> mmrmm^ ■ I > I J — . i iJimmmmmmim'imtimm mm ^tm-m^ Jk followed her sister, and did not return till noon. " I won4^ ^loiy 1% 4» ¥> Ptill ^Q-4ay," said her mother; -I have not heard him sing since morning." 6. Minnie sprang np, with a beating heart, and mnning to the cage, found poor Lily gone. The cat had dragged him from the cage, and his little golden feathdrs were lying all about the floor. 7. In the picture you see little Minnie, yiew- ing her firosen planls^ which i^e had forgotten to remofe the n^ht before. Her roses, her geraniums, her verbenas, are all dead. One little fofgjdt-mc^notbolws its head so'inoumfnlly that she almost thiid^ it s]^ea^s» »nd says, ^*Foi^ get-me-notr , ^ . 8. She dreamed that nightof her powers and her bird, and ^ej seemed to be 9bl£pg plain- tively, **'Forget'me-nof^ Minnie, forget-ioae-notl" This cured Minnie of her bad habit '^•^ lESSON TIL ba-by hush-ed some-thing re^nemrber can-not a-gain emp-ty wiA*e^ed langh-ing cas&rm^l ploas-ant^ly akoi^ty . -■--,, r,r^'#-^g Ws .!". I . . ■ i.- ^WWH'i' l > ■ ' "■ • > 1 1 1 1 I i n » I I I II ! • 24 BBOOVD SaADlB. MOTHIB, WHAV IS BIATSf L If OTHER, how Still the baby Hegf ^ I cannot hear his brMli; I cannot see his laughing eyes— They tell me this is death. 2. "Mj little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed, And pleasantly I tried to sii^; They hushed me — ^he is dead. 8L ** They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God wiU bless him in the mother, tell nie how r 4 *^ Daughter, do you remember, dear, The cold, dark thing yoti brought^ And laid upon the casement here— A withered worm, you -thxn^yhif . 6. *^I told you that Almighty power Could break that withered shell, And i^ow you, in a future hour, SofttJBthinf would please youifdL %, •* IjOi>k at the'chrysifif^ mf love— An empty dbteU ii^ ;— \ \ TBI BI8ROF Al^ StS ^IBD8. 25 Nofir ndie joor wondermg glaoM iliorQ^ ToLwliflra jon iBBeel iiest" T. ••Ohye8,Buonm»riia«r'rKy g»f Its inngB of Btany gold! And, see! it Kghtlj fBes awaj; Beyond my gentle hold. 8. **0 mother, now I know full well^ If Qod that worm can change^ And draw it from this broken oell^ On golden wings to range,-— > 9. «' How beantiMwffl brother be» When God shall giT« Ami winp^ Above this dying world to flee, And live with heaTenty ihiagsl'^ m^^ lESSON YIII. siz-ty vil-kge ask-ed ber-ries fif-tf him-self mean-ing car-ry wor-thy wish-ed sto-ry o-pm bishn^ per-flon late-ly win-dow fan BISHOP AND BIS BIBD8. AWre reference to some event in his early life. One day an intimate friend asked him its mean- ing, and the bishop replied by rebting the fol- lowing story: \ 2. Fifty or sixty years ago, a little boy re- sided at a little village near Dillengen, on the banks of the Danube. His parents were very poor, and, almost as soon as the boy could walk, he was sent into the woods to pick up sticks for fuel 3. When he grew older, his father taught him to pick the juniper-berries, and carry them to a neighboring distiller, who wanted them for mak- ing hollands. Day by day the poor boy went to his task, and on his road he passed by the open windows of the village school, where he saw the schoolmaster teaching a number of boys of about the same age as himself 4. He looked at these boys with feelings almost of envy, so earnestly did he long to be among -them. He knew it was in vain to ask his father to send him to school, for his parents .ji^ XZJ f^ had no money to pay the Bchoolmaster; and he often passed the whcde day thinking, while he was gathering his joniper-bemea, what he could possibly do to please the schoolmaQter, in the hope of getting some lessons. 6. One day, when he was walking sadly along, he fiaw two of the boys belonging to the school trying to set a bird-trap, and he asked one what it was for? The boy told him that the school- master was rery fond oi field&ree, and that they were setting the trap to catch some. 6. This delighted the poor boy, for he reool- lected that he had often seen a great number of these birds in the juniper wood, where they r \\\\ 28 BBOOND BBAI^Sm. came to eat the berriea, and be had bo doubt bat he ooold catch some. ^ 7. The Heart day the little boj boraowed an old baeket of his mother, and when he went to the wood he had the good fortone to^catch two field&resL He pat them in the basket, and, tying an old handkerchief over it, he took them to the schoolmaster^s hoose. 8. Jast as he arrived at the door, he saw the two little boys who had been setting the trap, and with some itom, he asked them if i^ef had canght any bkda They answered ia^ie nega- tive; and the boy, Ms heart beatiii|f with joy, gained admittance into the schoolmaster's pres- ence. In a few words he tdid how he had seen the boys setting ike trap, and how he had canght the birds, to bring them as a present to ihe master. 9. ^^A present, my good boyl*' died the schoolmaster; ^^you do not look as if yoa coald afford to make presents. Tell me yoor price, and I will pay it to you, and thank you besides.** ** I would rather give them to you, air, if you please,*' said the boy. > 10. The schoolmaster looked at the boy as her stood before him, with bare head and feet, and THE BISHOP AND HIS BIRDS. 29 ragged trowsen that reached only half-way down his naked legs. 11. ** Ton are a very singular boj I" said he ; "• but if yon will not take money, yon mnst tell me what 1 can do for yon ; as I cannot accept yonr present without doing something for it in return. Is there any thing I can do for yon?^* 12. " Oh, yesT said the boy, trembling with delight ; ** yon can do for me what I should like better than any thing else." " What is that ?" asked the schoolmaster, with a smile. 13. ** Teach me to read," cried the boy, fall- ing on his knees ; *^ oh, dear, kind sir, teach me to read." The schoolmaster complied The boy came to him at his leisure hours, and learnt ao rapidly, that the schoolmaster recommended ^U to a nobleman who resided in the neighborhood. This gentleman, who was as noble in his mind as in Mb birth, patronized the poor boy and sent him to school at Ratisbon. 14 The boy profited by his opportimities, and when he rose, as he soon did, to wealth and honors, he adopted two field&res as his arms. *^m0 ' 1. \ }> 1 i ao SECOND BBADSB. ^^Wliat do jon meanf* cried .the< bishop^s friend. **I mean," returned the bishop, with a smile, ^* that the poor boy was myself." <»■»» sea-sons win-ter passred sum-mer lESSON IX. flow-ers cov-er-ed re-tnm-ed hy-a-cintli de-sir-ed play-mates dis*ap-pear pas-tore sport-ing hap-py clns-ter cher-ries THE FOUR SEASONS. " T WISH it were always wint^pP^«dd Ernest, A- who had return^ from' a sleigh-ride, and was making a man ont of snow. His iither de- sired him to write down this wish in his note- book; and ^e. did^to. ' 2. The winter passed away, and the spring cam& Ernest stood with his father by the side of a bed of flowers, and gazed wim delight- upon^he hyacinthi^ the violets, and the lilies of the valley. "These are the gifts of spring," said his fiither; "but lliey will soon hde and disappear," "Ah I" said Ernest, "I wish it were always spring ! " " Write that down in Wf ' book," said his father ; and Ernest did sa THB F0irit B9A80KS. U 3. Tbe ^ring passed sw«^y and nuBinef came. Ernest went with his parents, and some of his plajmatesy into the oonntiy, and spent the day th^ra Everywhere the meadows were green and decked with flow^s, and in the pastures the yonng lambs were spcxrting around their mothers. 4. They had berries to eat, and passed a very happy day. As they were going home, the father said, ** Has not the summer its pleasures too, my son?" ''^h, yes," said Ernest; i*I wish it were always summer !" And this wish Ihnest wrote down in his father^s book. 5. At last asttumn cama Ernest i^aiu went witii his parents into the e«^Bti^« It was not so warm as in &e summer, but the air was mild and^ the heavens were dear. The grape-vines were heavy wiHi purple dusters; melons )ay upon the ground in the gardeiis ; ai^ in the orchards the boughs -were loaded with jipe fruit • 6. *^This fine season will soon be over,** said the &ther, 5* and winter will be upon u&" '' Ah I" taid Ernest, '' I wish it would stay, and alwi^ be autumn r 7* ^*Do you reaQy wish so?** said his father. mfmmmfm II < i n ii mi i i i 1 u ■ ■ \\ : . 32 SBOOHD BIADER. " I do, indeed,'* replied Ernest ** But," con- tinued his father, tddng at the same time his note-book out of his pocket, ^* see what is writ- ten here." 8. Ernest looked and saw it written down, " I wish it were always winter.*' " Now turn over another lea^** said his &ther^ " and w)uit do you find written there?" ^I wish it were , always spring." ^*And &rther on, what is written ?" " I wish it were always summ^." 9. ^^And in whose handwriting are these words?" *^They are in mine," said Ernest "And what is now your wish?" "That it should always be autumn." " That is strange," said his father. "In winter, you wished it might always be winter; in spring, you wished it might always be spring ; and so of summer and of autumn. Now, what do you think of all this?" 10. Ernest, after thinking a moment, replied, " I suppose that all seasons are good." " That is true, my son : they are all rich in blessings, and God, who sends lliem to us , knows fat better than we what is good for us. Had the wish you expressed last winter been granted, we should have had no spring, no summer, no autumn. 8UFFBB LlVtLK OHILDBEN. 33 IL ** Toa would have had the earth always fcoyeied with snow, so that 70a might have had sleigh-rides and made snow-men. How ma^ ipleasores would yon have lost in that event! tit k well for ns thast we cannot hav^e all things [as we wish, but diat God sends ns what seems rood t6 him." f Isuf-fer lit-tle |$hil-dren l-ed WESSON X. fobt-stool heav-en pte^jpare #adi-6d Idnf'dicna wor-fihip ho-ly al-tar siifrple lon-ger a-bove be-low gath-er de-ceive »» ''SUFFER umm cBsmm to ooxb uvto fl. T THD^ wheaa, I read than sweet story of I . 'pOOB little Genoveffal she 'was an orphan, -■- and had strayed away ^somr^ii§L honse of her kind old nurse MimL She jHRered for hours and hours through the darkl||mt streets, when all at once she caught sight of a fiunt, •^mim i I i (»■• I' 1 I 4 I lit n iU ;i i m V ! 36 SBOOKD BIAI^BB. glimmering fight verf fiur awaj. After a great deal of trouble, she made her way ^ to it, and fitocd gaajng np with eyes of terror, trying to find out where the light was placed. J THE LOST O0II.D. 37 ■ 2. Iq the course of this scrutiiij, she per- ceived that the deceitful lamp was boraing be- fore an inuige placed in a niche in the wall; her extreo^e diaappointment h^ prevented her making 'this discovery at first, and something very like jojr was flattering at her heart as she drew near and^onnd herself standing before an image of " the Virgin Mother and the Child,** to which some pious person had endeavored to do honor by the Totive oiBferingpf a lamp. 3. The figures indeed were rude, and had none of the beauty of those they represented ; but, such as they were, they told the lost Geno- veffa that ^e had a mother iq hepfvea who watched over her rand prayed fofc her still, a divine Jesus who had died for her, and a heav* enly father who would never forsake her. The finest Statue could have done no more; and, with a recovered sense-of safety, she twined her arms around it and wept at its feet, as she had done many an hour of late before the loved Madonna of her vanished home. 4. She was now completely exhausted, and, by degrees, her sobs became less frequent, her arms relaxed their tight grasp of the statue, she sank lower and lower until she lay prostrate on I ' I i ■n 38 SECOND BBADBB. the payement, and, five minBtes afterwarda, she was fiist asleep — oncared for indeed b j men, but well guarded by the Holj Ones in heaven, beneath whose earthlj images she had sought protection. •^•^ driv-en sec-ond gen-tle work-ing LESSON XII. par-a-diae ^ac-ri-fice vi-o-lent • ao-cept-ed em-ploy-ed pnn-ish-ed in-struct-ed de-part-ed dwelt heart threw shown ''i'^-' ^ •OAIB AND jABBl^. £- •: ^ ^,^ %i^* .^fSc.^**' ^*^^^», H-^i^L^^"^ h"^ /xLisim, and JSi^b irece iiiifen out of ^e second Abel ( and gentk and rough, and cmiployed himselfJn worldng intneBmd*. Brafig^iMf^f/MflKetea in tbe.dii- (^k.^m'i^m'i^^^ .^^^^ ^™ ^ t«#ilraMSPthe e^it^^be^ ttp best and fattest sheep of his flock. "O j' * 2. God accepted the sacrifice of Abel, because it waB^tnade wit£ plotis tod" hcty^^positiGns; bnt he rejected the offering of Gain, becanse his heart was not pnre. This stnng Cain to the quick ; his countenance changed, and his heart was filled with jealousy. The piety of Abel gave him nneaedness; and a brother^s good qnalities, which he himself had not, stirred np his enyy into a most violent hatred. One day he asked his brother to walk witK Mm into the field, and when they were alone, he rushed on Abel with a club and killed him This was the first murder that defiled the earth. 40 BBCOKO KSAnSIi. S.'^The Lord cfilled Cain and said to him; "Where ia thy brother Abel?" Cain replied with inaolenipe: "I know not; am I the keeper of my broUier?" God then aaid to him ; " Wbat haat thoii done? The voipe of thy brother^s blood criea unto me from the earth against thee. Cursed shalt thou be upon the earth, which thy band has stained wi^ thy brother's blood. When thou shall tiB Iti tt shall not yield thee its fruits; a flig^tifiB apt a Tagabond thou shalt b^ upon the eardt'* <^ 4. Cam waa fefdfied i^ theae words, and exclaimaiS: ' j " My inkiallpli Ipo' great to be pardoned I behold tiioil 4teli wl^iBsa out Hijn day from the face of ik» m^l i^ hidia iQ^lf from thy face, I i^aU be a fttgili^e ngi a wanderer on the earth, and whoever ahaU vu^ m» wiU kill me. i» 5. But €k>d, who never wishes a sinner to fall into despair, immediately replied : " No, it shall not be so; but who shall kill Cain^ ahaU be punished sevenfold." C^ 6. And God set a mark upon Cain, that he might be known, and he* departed from l|i« native place and dwelt alterwards in the kuid CAtir ARD ABEL. 41 of Nod, as it is called in the Scriptares, east of Eden. 7. We maj well imagiiie what grief nemd anguish this crime g«ve to the ak^eacfy sorrow- stricken parmits oi Cain and AbeL How Eve, on receiving inteUigenoe of the mtfrder, flew to the spot, and with a heart bleeding with sorrow, threw herself upon the lifeleas boc^ of her son, as is shown in ^e picture at the beginnii^ of the lesson. 8. Let our young readers ever banish from their hearts every ib%ig of jedloisiy ; and in- stead of being pained at the piety and virtue of their brothenSfSiifters, and companions^ let them be rejoiced thei'eai Jealousy is ttnworthy of a noble and genopoua aoul It wm tile vice c^ Cain ; and will lead to tiie crime of ©ain. I rri I.I ilttW wait-ed search-ed paus-ed shil-ling wid-m chil-dren lESSOK XIII. mod-est la-bor eheer-leas pierc-ing fleet-ing qtdck-ly M-ing no-ble dai-ly pray-er cbr-ner eldest an-swer-ed lis-ten-ing tast-ed toil-ed wretch-ed be-cause '■•*r 42 SBOOVD RSADIE. FAITH IN GOD. 1. T KNEW a mdow, j^rf poor, ) Who fom ma^ dmiim:^ The eldest was but six yeurs old, A gentle, modest lad. 2. And veiT hard this widow toiled ^"^Tl^Wiii her children fonr; A noMe heart the mothw had, . ' Though she was rery poor. 3. To labor, she would leave her home, For children must be fed; And glad was she when she could buy A shilling's worth of bread. 4. And this was all the diMdreii had Chi anj day to ail: They drank their watw, ate their bread, But never tasted meat ' 5. One day, when snow was falling fast, And piercing was the air, I thought that I would go and see "^ How these poor children were. 6. Ere long I reached their Ae^less home; 'Twas searched by every Infeeie ; U lAITH IV GOD. 43 When, going in, the elde8t> child I saw upon his kneea. 7. I paused to he^m to the bojr : He neret raised his head, But still irenl (mei, and said, *^ Gi^e Us. This daj onr di% bread." 8. I waited titt the child was dc»iei Still listening as he prajed ; And when he t&mt I asked ham wh j That prayer he them had saidir 9 " Why, sir," said he, ** this morning, when My mothei* went away. She w^t| because she said she had ^ No bread Ibr us to-day. 10. ^' She said we children new must stanre^ Our &ther being itoad; And tbi»llald her ii€»l to diry, For I oonld get some hlfead. 11. ^^ * Our Fathe^,^ sir, the prayer begins, Which made me think that he, As we have no kind &thw herf, Would our kind Father be. 12. ** And the» you know, nr, that the p^yer Ada God for bread each cby ; ■ t ' ' ' i^Pi^if— — — I I m il ii m i m Ill !■ ■ I I m »«— — I I i I i II 44 8B0OND BEADBR, ^^^H So in the comer, sir^ 1 went ; is And that^s whlit made me pray.** ■ fr] 13. I quickly left that wretched room, I se l And went with fleeting feet, ^^H^B w li And very soon was back again H 1 ' With food enough to 6at I II 14 " I thought Ooji heard me,'' ftaic* *he boy. B 9 I answered with a tubd. ; \ HI 1 1 codd not speak, but mtich I thought ^I^CI 1 ^ Of that boy's Mtii in God 1 LESSON XIV* 1 tanking Want-ed l^hiiid 1 dis-graoe seem-ed ty H !| sil-ly tempt-er un-prof-it-»^ble ■ m tHi «1N)LBN ttxtn. ■ .A i " TTAS your mind been mnning on that fool- -U. ish {dale ever einoe Satordiiy night f' I ' ■|Pt' I ' ti ||| cried my molberi *^ Well, if this is the way it 1 i 1 * 1 THE BTOLBir PLATK. 45 is to be, I shall stop your taking tea with your friends. You can't haire every thing that you see other girls have, Kate, and you might as well make up your mind to it first as last" 2. At tkit tettmi I bttfist into tf&tan, but my **Saoh a great gfa! «i yo% I Urn. fiurprited p p you should cry about such a trifle ; jou ought to be ashamed of yourself" 3. " Jane Howard and Julia Yandamm will laugh at me when they come here to tea if I don^t have it,'* said I, drowned in tears ; " for I told them I was sure |iapa would buy me one.*' "Very well," answered my mother; **then you ne^ not inidte Aem — #At'8 aH." 4. We got no othar cousolation fitom my dear mother, for isiie wauled to ^ake mef fii|i how silly I*waa» and Annie and t irent to sdiool in wretc^dly loir spixiti. Notiiing seciised before us in the future but flat diaappointoient and disgrace. We biA Iboaalei) i^ mim boasts would soon be pr0f«^ Tain md m|^ words. We kad fed oiur faai^i&u^tkiiii ou 4tt idea of posseaong Ite^^leiMlfti pliiii ifll iii^^^^b^^ had hm^ §mmati ''a # # 5.^ €M«3e Ib^ 1^ jnoi^^ tim^-lilie Smvt^'kqpk^,'^ «% irith a scornful and malkiio^ jhi^ |^ imagined, whether mf ftlher hid ye^boijllt ^ pretty plates. Annie and I said nothing to each other on oar^wsy home that day, until we stopped by mutual, birt tacit (that ia, aibn^) consent at the old woman'a. Mipi mmmNf THK STOI>£jr PLATE. 47 6. As the tempts would have it — ^thftt is, the wicked (qnrit who pats bad tk>iight8 into our heads and contriyes opportunities for ns to put them in ei;eciKtion— ahe was in the shop, and behind her oonnter, engaged with a cus- tomer. Then said I to Annie — " Won't you tett if I take it ?•* 7. And Annie pfY^aise^ thai tke wouldn't Somehow we got huddled togeth^ between the ''.oc^ and the siifla^ The old woman went on holding out her prk» against ^er customer, who was ^atyioQ to cheapen her sewing-silk a penny a skeiu, 8. ''Do yott^hiiik die can see us?'* asked I, in a whisper. ''Mo/' whisp^edi^me* j 9. 'Tis a WGoider we Bevei^rai^^ that God saw u^; but it nay be thi^ we efHMdm!ed if He did, Be woiM o^ teS imt moAflf of us. " Is n't aaybo^y 0(ml$^i, Annie f ' tiid L "No," said she, "nobody." IG. i hxSmi botiLiiiayi to see if the street was clear, and iry heart beat terribly. The old momtafm \mik waa lunMddr the other way, and I lifted the plale mS the pBe and sltf^ied i% into my school-bag, w^di iniiie h^ open. mat SI ■ t .'I I: i;'< \m while were 1 walk sure true' guilt Then we got awa j as iisl idwd tould. ^nd 80 MT SISTER AkNIB AKD I STOLi THB PRETTt PLATE. ^•^ rath-er ri)Be-tree leel-ing a-gi«ed bur-ied loat-ter lESSOR XT, ^d-isg ex-pose da-senre in-deed jaev-er cor-ry .co-co»tnat per>mis-sion re*tiir&-ing fi-nal-ty ooa->«oience ^ead-ful-ly THY STOLIBll FI*ATI. If OOHTUIUBD. '' AH, Katj!" 6aid Annie to me at last, While ^ we wer^ wkM&g om' fmee bdfo^e dinner ; ''I hxv^ no peM^ at 431 for thii^king ot that lit- tle pktis in dlie garden* 06 M tn^ t^ mother to let tn take % wa& ifter dinaef, tM. ditij it back." % '' (^ no, Asidie!*' saM t ; ''I ^mt iik6 to do that*' ^^ft wffl ntvet do to leiBiv^ it wh«r« it Is, Katjl" reii^ed Annie, irh^ wad nlwtrfi mdri^ thoughtfbl, fo ^osee iug, iHid appr^ettsiTethan I. '* It will^>e sore to come to ligki one of these 3. Ooa6ic^ tree, ik^ up till |Hr^% piMte luMMorved, and it biJoiiEi and jxuSk^sut$n. excuse t*s worth pf ciMKMirnut meat, while Annie paid the old woman^ I watdied my opportunity and put the plate back just where it was when I took it And so we wen^ and walked round the Battery, and ate our cocoa- nut rather silently, and returned home with such a load off our hearts! hid it ftii^ 6. Wa of bu;^g a^ "^ THE MILLER AVD HIS BON. 51 once drove town gone LESSON XVI. mar-ket dis-tance ^ horse-back wag-on langh-ing peas-ant i-dle shep-herd shont-ed bas-ket dou-bks car-ry THE JliLLBil AND HIS SON. MUAiBR and his son once drove an ass to the town to sell him in the market 52 BBOOND RBADIB. 2. A man on horseback met them. **OhI** said he, laughing, *^whafc doll fbllows 70a are to let the tis go ioQe, instead of one of 70a mounting him !*' 3. The &ther immediateljr called to his son to mount. ' After a while a wagon met them. The wagoner cafied out to the son: **Are you not ashamet^ jc^u yoi^ fellow, to ride, while yoitf old #m#^lM8 t%|f^ ak»g by your side on foot?" 4. As womw^.m^m^l^'^ra^ ^^ immediatdif Jtt observe now, my son, tliaft It li knposiiMe to please erery- body ; and that there is wisdom in the advice : «* «T1i» ti vklM^i^uM i, nam. t* wstAi^ ti-diiigs UD-tO c»t-y swad-dling man-ger lESSW Won-ders logli-est o-v#r sp^-dea-ly ajhpeer-ed Ba^-onr heav-en-ly re-gard-ing hap-pen-ed might born stmck laid great kne'tvn TfiB iltl0Xfeia OF i BOOT twelS^ sKepl A thfeirelieeply night, of Bethlehem, where, you BBTHLXHKS. W^ #at6hiWg nM §est from lihe city know, Christ the Lord was bom. Suddenly the Angel of the Lord appeared before them, a great Hght shone all around, tu^ the shepherds were struck with fear* 2. But the Angel said: **Be not afraid; I bring you tidings of great joy for all the people. .This night a SaTiour is bom unto you in the city of Dayid. He is Christ the Lord, and by this sign you shall know him : You will find an in&nt wrapped in swaddling-doUiea and laid in a manger." 3. Then there appeared a great number of the heavenly i^irits, and th^ sii^ the praises of God, saying : *^ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men jofg^io^- will" Whea the angels were gone, the diepherds said to each other: **Let us go over to Bethlehem, and see what has happened, that the Lord has made such things known to us.** 4 They went in haste, and they found Mary and Joseph with the child laid in the nuinger. And they saw that all they had heard was tme regarding that divine Infant And then they told the wonders Hiey had seen. Aad Jfoy the mother of Jmn kept these things ^ bur heart THB SH3BPBBBl>-BOT. 5ft LESSON XVIII. .mor-iy main-taia ^fe-omre rich-er cheer-M beK^use kii^-ed tpir-it^ bloom-ing tend'ing valley call-ed THB BHBPHSRD-BOY. ALIGHT-HEARTED ihepherd-boy was tend- ing sheep, one bright spring morning, in a flowery valley, between wooded hills^ and sing- ing and skipping about for very joy. The prince of the t«arritory, who happened to be hunting in the dittrict, saw him, called him to him, and said: ^Why are you so merry, ray dearUtUeli^wr •OTur*** M Mlro^^ ^diiMi. 2. The boy did iiQtkm>]ir thejpfince, and re- ified: ''WhyikbM Twiiyinerry? Our moil p iwi ij ln miam Mmself ia not liclfiir than ^£BdMdr'8aidl;k«,{»riiioli; ^^l^me hcMoraQ that jou hfrel" ^v-^^^ bri^ bhui - ^ii^jhf^ pleasafttij ixr me as for &6 prince, «|||^Pp|il t«^ i^re as green and b^eang te slill^ t^B^ / I ir^eody agrees wfth you.* OtAf eotttkue Id miilntain I the same cheerful spirit, and yoit 1^ d6 VcB.** 2^_ I 1 1 I I I II I I ' i I j ii . . 1 1 ! i j ii inrii i iiiii I w ^Ih THB q^^ppUH'ft 0«OI0B. fi^T andre- . » ? Our ^lEssoH xa- Mrtlifi& 8ol-dier T^mmthmt ^^tun u-ni-foim #i-0oii4fliit can-Hon lewTftQ pres-i-den^ bmtid-ffirQrd owto-fort .in the THX lfmMJ,9M^Wl'9^ and I shall not be able t6 finish it in time without your aisistaDce." 3. '' But this is only Hiuraday, mother,'' aa- "*^ ■ I swered EUm. " Yon nerer want jour waahing finished before Sa4i2sib7." 4 *^The fiunilj wbose waahing I want to fin- ish are going into the ct ontij on Friday. I mnst have ^eir things home upon Thursday evening. That is the reason I want your assistance; for they are good customers, and I cannot afford to lose them, which I should certainly deserve to do if I neglected their orders." 5. Ellen sai^ no more, but she thought to herself ** The children in that family are rich, and happy, and comfortable; they have servants to attend them, and every thing on earth they can wish for; while I am obliged to toil hard for a morsdi of bread 6. *^ Even my little brothers and sisters are better off liian I aiJi, for they can sleep as long as they like; while I am forced to get up in the cold and dark, long before I have slept off the weariness of a hard day's work." 7. Ellen's mother saw tibat her daughter was vexed, but she took no notice of it^ ai she was sore she would soon be sorry for her peevish feelings. And she was quite right in this ; for, after saying her prayers as well as ^e could. ta** 62 8BOONO BXADBB. EHen crept ta her poor be4i ^>^^ trying hard to repress her fit of ill-humor, soon fell fast asleep. 8. Generally Ellen slept so sonndly that she never was disturbed by a passing thought: but it was quite otherwise on this particular night ; for no sooner was her head upon the pillow, than she dreamed she saw a beautiful angel standing close beside it 9. His robes were of dazzling whiteness, his long "hair fell down to his waist, and his wings were so bright that they filled the whole cot- tage with light, and even the miserable table and chairs of the little chamber seemed to drop down diamonds like summer dew. 10. While Ellen giized updn him with wonder and delight, be said, in a voice of hea4renly sweetness, *^ Ellen, you have be^ grumbling this night at your poverty, and envying those who are ridier than yourself 11. " 1 am your guardian angel ; and because you are genei^Uy %^^tiM daughter, and try to conquer yduf inclinli^on to discontent, it \ has been pertailtted ttieto show you the advantages of the state which you find it so difficult to en- dure. Get up and follow me." 12. Ellen thought she rosd Imd Mowed hte \ L, BLLKN 8 DBXAM. 63 until they were both standing in the opeu £Oiin- try, before an altar dedicated to our Blessed Lady. A crown of thorns and a crown of roses were laid upon the altar, and upon the steps stood a lady of surpassing beauty, whom she instantly knew to be the Mother of God. 13. The angel now pointed towards the open country; and Mowing with her eyes tfie direc- 64 8BOOHO BIADBB. taoo ^ hk finger, Ellen bkw another angel ad- vancing towards the altar, and leading by the hand a yety joong child, whose garments were even poorer than her own, but whose &ce was fall of content and joy ; she knelt down upon the lowest step of the altar, and the lady hd- yanced to?^ards her, holding .the two crowns in her hand. 14 Ellen felt quite sore she was going to give 4he roses to the happy child; but hw angelic guide whispered soMy^Jprot yet;'* and turning again, she saw that lifary had already placed the wreath of thorns aiaong the little creature's curia lESSON XXI. af-fec-tion-ate as-ton-ish-ment cm-d-fi-ed mo-meb-ta^fy in-dig-na-tion in-ter-ces^on ev-i-dent-ly 6b-scu-ri-ty at-teja4ive-ly bllxf's dbbax* THEN the lady disappeared, and the mxgfA drew a little aside and folded his wings o^ his face as if in prayer; but still WmkJ^ ' ^jr I ihoogh she did not see it, thftt he continaed to watch over the child, who appeared to be un-" der hiis care, and who remained sitting alone on the step of ike altar. Bat it was no longer the happy child it had appeared before. 2. A dark shadow seemed to hove &llen upon it ; its garments were changed into rags, which were quite nnable to preserve it from the cold ; tears streamed from its eyes, and its round merry face had become pale, and sad, and pinched b^ hun^r. 3. Still Ellen saw that the little hands were clasped in prayer, and that the eyes were often raised towards heaven, and at such times a look of afifectionate devotion gave momentary beauty to the wasted countenance; her angel also would frequently draw closer to her, and his presence evidently gave her ineffable delight 4. Many people now appeared to pass before the altar: most of them took no notice of her; but one or two, with a kind of contemptuous good-nature, threw her a crust of bread, which she always took with expressions of gratitude. Others, however, were very unkind, speaking harshly to her, and even striking her on the &oe; but all their ill-treatment she received frXOOND BSADSB. with meekness, and only (najed more earnestly for her cruel torment(»& 5. ^en was about to express her indignation at their cruelty, but the angel placed his hand upon her mouth, and bade her look once more, and tell him what she saw. But she could scarcely answer him, her astonishment was so unbounded. 6. *^Her angel is dose beside her, and Maiy is standing before her, and her rags are all gone, and she wears a robe covered |rith diamonds, and as dazzling as your own,** she said at last " The poverty of this world is the wealth of eternity,** said the angel ** Look once more.** 7. " Mary has wiped away her tears, and her &ce is more happy and smiling than ever.** ** Happy are they who sow in tears, for they shall reap them in joy and gladness,** returned her guardian ; " now look again.** 8. ^* Mary has placed her hands on the crown of thorns, and they have budded out into beau- tiful roses.** *^ Even so,** said the angel ; " the thorns of this earth are the roses c^ Paradise. Now, 6xt the last time, — ^look.** 9. ^^Crowdsof angels are around her; Mify «M BXiLBV'8 BlISAM. V takes her in her anna; Mid Oiii is ooming nofw •^I may not 1(X^ upon Hnt," aaid EUeii, smkiiig on her knees and coyering her &ce with her hands. 10. "You are right," answfted the angel; "mortal eyes may not look upon His beauty! Tet, like tiiie child whom Mary ey^ nox^' places on His breast, He was bom to poverty i i i ' i i i i i . 68 SSOOND RBA0BB. b^ while lie was standing still close beside her pillow, and his voice sounded more sweet and seraphic than ever in her^ars, as he thus ad- dressed her : 13. "The child whom you have seen this night was once a little beggar-girl, and an or- phan from her tenderest years ; but by her fer- vent prayers she obtained a mother in the Queen of Heaven, more watchful and tender than mor- tal parent could have ever been. • ♦ U. "through Mary^s all-powerful interces- sion, she obtained the grace to receive poverty with patience, and contempt with joy ; L thh very night she has revived her rewd; for her good heavenly mother with crowds of angels attended her bed of deaths and bore her hi^py soul to the bosom of her God, where her tears have been wiped away, and her sorrow has been changed into joy. 16. "My daughter, now you know the use of sorrow and of tears. Pray to Mary that you also may have patience amid suffering, and that your death may be like that of the beggar^shild who went to heaven this night" 16. The angel ceased to speak, and the light seemed to fade from his wings until Ellen waa BLLSH'S DBBAM. 69 left in total dftrkness. Just then her mother^s voice roused her from, her slumbers, and Ellen sprang from her bed, a wiser girl than she had ever been before. 17. "Why, Ellen," said her mother the next evening, in great astonishment, " jou have done more work to-daj than you ever did in your life before ; and you seem so happy that I should not know you for the same girl you were yester^liiy." 18. "I am not the same girl, mother," said Ellen, gravely. "Why, what has changed you so much, Ellen?" " It was a dream I had last night, mother." " Dreams are foolish things, Ellen, generally speaking." 19. "But mine was not a foolish dream, mother." And Ellen then told her dream, to which her mother listened very attentively. And when she had finished her account, her mother said : 20. "Well, Ellen, I cannot say your dream is foolish, after all And I hope you will think of it whenever you are inclined to grumble at other people being tidier than yourself" / 21. And Ellen did think of it very often. She became the comfort and support of her mother, and though she never was richer, she always continued cheerful and contented ; and whenever she heard any one speaking impa tiently of their poverty or suffering, she used to call to mind the visit of her angel, and to whisper softly to herself, *^ Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." ^■» ~ ban-ish-ed wick-ed-ness of-fer-ed un-wor-thy LESSON XXII. in-creas-ed ex-am-ple un-hftp-py wick-ed-ness re-main-ed pu-ri-ty re-solv-ed com-mand-ed THE ARK AND THE DELUGE. CAIN being banished on account of his wick- edn 38, and separated from the rest of Adam's family, went to live in a country to the east of the Garden of Eden. He was now an impenitent sinner, and was unworthy to be present where the sacrifices were to be .offered to Almighty God. 2. He became the father of a numerooa fiu&f ^ '# THE ABK AND THB DELUGE. II ily, and brought up his children without the fear or knowledge of God, and consequently they became a very wicked race of men. The sins. of ^he earth increased in proportion to the number of its inhabitants. 3. Adam had another son, called Seth, bom after the death of Abel. The descendants of Seth were pious and distinguished for their vir- tues, until falling in with the race of Cain, they lost their virtue and became corrupt and wicked like the rest, — a fearful example of the unhappy effects of bad company. 4. In the coui^se of time, their wickedness / 72 BBOOVD BBADBB. became so ^eat and so uniyersal, that scarcely any virtue r«» mainecl on earth. Man had so far faUen from his original state of purity and inno- cence, that he seemed a disgra(;e even to the creatures that had been made for his use. 5. The Lord, as the Scripture expresses it, repented that he had create.'l inan ; and resolved to sweep him oflF from the facfe of the earth, and with him all living creatures made for his service. 6. No^ alone was a just man, who, with his three sons Sem, Cham, and Japhet, found favor before God. To Noah, therefore, Gtx} made known the awfbl resolution he had taken of destroying the world by an universal deluge, and as he intended to show mercy to him and his family, he commanded liim to build a large vessel, called the Ark, according to dimensions he then gave him. 7. Noah set to work at once to build the Ark, and weis two hundred years in completing it. During this time men saw the preparations he was making;, and though they were not ignorant of the divine threat to destroy the world, still they did not regard it, or considered it fiir distant 8. As soon as the Ark was finished, Noah, as he had been directed by Almighty €k>d, took tf ■ ' ' . ' " " " 0VO THI ARK AXD THl DSLCJGB. 73 into it a certain number of every kind of birds and beasts; and, lumng ezeented this order, he himself^ ifi'di his wife, his three soni attd their wives, also entered the Ark. < /- '« * • i N^ !*.? -'•* •v. ■■.I,,..- 9. Immediately after this, the heav^pii. overcBAt, and the rain fell in torrents dnring the space of forty days and forty nights. The wa- ters began to rise by degrees, and soon covered the tallest trees and highest monntaina Then those wicked n^n who had derided Noah while he was boilding the Ark, were filled with terror and alarm. « » 74 aHOOXD K94D1B "I?" ,10. ThajTm from one place f4 imot^ec in ewbr to save theDoaefves fixipL ^proftcbi^ig doi^tk They asc<^iide4 lofty t^ees lo^d high rocka; but ell iuYaia: the rising wftters soon o^iertook them, and bnried them in its raging iood. All were deitroyed 'except Noah and his family in the Alk, ;whicli i?ose \nth the rising wat. i's, md floated in triiioiph on the surface. 11, Thus did AWflity <3k>d dwteoy the whqle^hitfflMn I3ic5e, eiE^ept th© eight pevsons in the Aric, on aaooi^ of thiD widc^ess which prevailed «inx»ig mm. IM cWWbrwi learn from this how grievous is tin In iim sight oi heaven ; and learn to avoid it, if they would avoid the punishment t^!^?eo& LESSON XXIH. . be-came com-mu-nion kneel-ing a>part-ment caus-ed ten-der-neas par-don beftit*ti'>M TH9 GARLAND OF FLpWIBB. EMMA waa a flighty and iq^rtive cUld; *nt when 1^ attained her twelfth year, a| she was preparing to make her first commnnion, sl^ flight-y sport-ive hap-py im-plore became grave and reoollected. When iiam hap- py daj arriTedft vbo totffed^her nother's apart- ment very early, and kneeling before k^, s^: ''My dearest moth/^, pardon, I implore yoV the pangs my &nlt8 have cansedjoa, in order that I may receive my Qod with holy hope and a pore conscience.'' 2. The' mother clasped Emma to her bosom, shed tears of . tenderness overher^a^. placing her right hand on her daughter's head, gave her her benediction. She then placed on her brow a mn^ veil and a garland of white iow- ers, sajring: "May these beantifal flowers be the emblem of the parity of yonr sonl!" * 3. When' Emma returned from ehnrch, she said to her mother, with a heart foil of h<^y joy: '' I w^ preserve this garland all the days of my Me, as a memento of my happiness; but as those flowefs, if exposed, might lose aome* what of their beanl^ful whiteness, wiU yon kei» me have them encased in a glass frame ?" 4. ''With pleasure," replied the mother; "but on condition tintt eadi time jo^ look noaiu>ed oon-templri-ble or-der-ed de-ceiV-ed pnn-ish-ed dis-taste-M pernniad-iBg THI LIAB. ALPHC^SUS had netaclj attiuned hk tenth year before he conld read, but had he pos- sessed the knowledge of a Newton or a Cuvier, he would still be vile and contemj^ble, for he was stained with the most odious crime that can degrade man : he was a liar. 2. Did he filch fruit or any othv^r delicacy, he would persuade the world c^ the contrary, and that it must be &e cat or the dog that made away with the dainty. Did he brea^ a glass or an article of that nature, he would suf- fer all the servants to be punished sooner tha^ acknowledge himself guilty. 3. Aiphonsus, however, had neither father nor moth^, and his guardian was too much engaged in business to think of his education. At length, hon^ver, he blushed »t the ignorance of Aiphonsus, and ordered his housekee'^r, ua- ----- — - — ~ — - — ______^_____.^___ — — ______-_ji TB» LIAR. n der pexudtj of being discharged, lo oondiiol him daily to sehooL • 4. The discipline of the eehool was Tery dia- tasteM to the boy, and he taxed his ingenuity for pretexts to exense his abeenoe; but the housekeeper was ineicorabie. Once, however, Alphonsus triumphed over her stenmess, by pretending sicfaiefls. 5. This stratagem did not prove of long suo- cess; for the physician was caBed in and pro- nounced him well: so he was obliged on the morrow to resume his paper and books. The following Monday, Alphonsns agam deceived the vigilance of the housekeeper, pereutyding her that it being the anniversazy of the teach- er^s birth-day, all the scholars got a holiday. . 6. But the latter sent to demand the reason of Alphonsns' absence, and the housekeeper, in a passion, declared that she should be no k^^ the young knave's dupe. The nex^ day she entered Alphonsns' room at the usual hour. 7. The latter complained of pain through his body and a violent headache. The hooiekeep- er, persuaded that ha was lying as usual, piulled hktt out (ji bed, dl!Cised him hastily, andleid hin off to school de^tei his tears and piteous i^peaiii ■ww* *>m0t i; '■ ;} i t 78 SBOORD BBAiriB. 8. Th« air was rerj penetnlmg; add Alphon- 8013, ^ho vrm this time really wick, became much more cplin oonsequenoe of this impmdeiit egress. Wheiif he anired mi school, he coold scarcelj Btmd ; xmfortimately ke was still believed to be acting, and the teacher, instead of pitjing him, became irritated at his wiles. 9. At last he swooned off; he was then obliged to be carried home and put to bed. He was then seked with a violent lerer ; the •»aall-poje made ita a^f»earanoe, and the nnfor^ tmiate Alpbonsns remained sereral weeks in sospense between life and death. 10. He finally recoTered, but his face was terribly pitted with the pox, and he continued disfigured the rest of his lilb. The liar, says the Scripture, is an abomination in the sight of Crod ; and his punishment on eu'th is, never to be believed, even when he tells the truth. ■«' " fci ^^»0t LESSON XXV. heath-er bnt-ter frisk4ng sing-ing trib-ute mid-way noon-tide Ins-tre fiow-ers oeas-ed al-most paneling droop-ing plough-man woodland be-oeath THS AVOSLIFS BILL. 7» VRB AVOBLUB BBLL. 1. TTAIL, Mary! now the mm^n up: . ^ All things aroo&dlook glad aad bright, . And heather-bell and bntt^r-cnp Shake off the dew-dropa of the night The lambs are frisking in the fieldsi The lark is singing in the tikj ; And man his waidng tribute yields To thee and thy sireet Son on higL 2. Hail, Mary I midway in the sky The noontide sun its lustre dieds ; The field-flowers almost seem to die. So low they hang their drooping heads. The lambs have sought the woodUmd dmde, The lark has ceased her note of glee ; And pauring in the furrowed gkda, The ploughman lifts his heart to thee. 3. Hail, Maty I now the sun is fiir Adown his western path of Hght, The floirers, beneath the evening star, Drink up the dew-drops of the night 80 BBOOVD MMA9MU, The lambs are by their mothers laid, The lark is brooding o*er htf neat^ And when the eyeniiig prajer is made, Then weary man disll sink to rest ^•#1 gaih-er-ing straw-ber-ries pro-teci-ed cheer-M-ly e-yen-mg dQ-i-gent47 oon-tin-u-ed fo*ri«i*i THB hl'STLU LAKB. 83 7. *^C1^|'* said the sick mother, raiang heraelf up in bed, i&d raf^ximg her head on her hand, *4n your joj 5^on forget that this hkinb must have an owner. It has only strayed away, aud, therellie^ ire mttst-^ve it back again. It probabfy^ b^ngs to the rich farmer over the hiU. It ii not right to keep other people^s property a single mght in the house. So you had better oarrf it home to-night" 8. "What nonsense !*' cried a rough voice through the <^n window. " It is folly to be so particular!'* The man who said this was a mason, who, wlule outside repairing the wail of their cottage, had overheard their conversa tion. The mother and d&nghter looked at him in alarm; but he continued: "Why do you make such strange fkoes? I only speak for your good. We willtjut up the lamb and di- vide it 9. " We shall have a couple of little roasting- pieces from the flesh, and the skin, too, is worth something. The rich farmer has more than a hundred fine large sheep; and^ doubtless, he will never feel the loss of thid poor little tiling. 8o 1 wHl kill it immediately. And you need not be afraid. No one sees us, and yoii may i ■ i- . M I' H IW — ' II mmamtmummtimt ^mt me ; I can be as silent," said he, flinging 4 trowel full of mbe sare to take good core of it," said his wife. *^ It will neither be tmubleaome nor expemiv^ to bring it up. Whib yon are gathering strawbenies or sewing, ycm can eaaily herd it, and, without ever trespassing cm any one's meadow, yon can gather as much gr«iss to dry tor hay, as will feed it during the wkter. 10. ^* Whmi it (mc# grows up, the nitlk wiU be Ycry useful tar youfr own and your mot^sr's 88 BXOOITD BXADXS* humble housekeeping, and the wool will si^i^y a lew pairs of stockings every year." '^And if you have hick>" said the dinner's little boy, ^* perhaps yon will have a whole flock in time f ^ 11. Christina was forced to stay for sapper, and heartily ei^oyed the milk and bread and bntter. The good woman then gave her a fine large sUce of fresh, rich bntter, wr^ped in vine-leaves, and a dozen of eggs, to carry home. *^ Take these to yonr mother,'' said she, while ^e carefully put the ^f^ in her apron ; *^ greet her kindly fiom me, and m&jQod soon restore her to health !'' 12. Christina hasi^enedjoyfully home through the flowery little valley. Meanwhile the sky had cleared, and the* evening star and 4ke slen- der moon which now appeared for the first time, beamed gently !'?to the valley. All the flowers and shrubs still dropped with rain, and had a fragrant perfume. Christma's heart felt indescribably happy. 13. ^^The heaven and earth,'' thought she, *^ are always more beautiful after a storm ; but 1 never before saw them look so sweet and lovdiy as they do this evening." KOAH XBAYSB THX ABK. 89 When she readied home, she told all tills to her moth^. t 14 ^^ToQ see,** sudd her mother, **it is jiut as I told you. That is the pleasure of a good conscience. When we do what is H^t, onr heart is filled with sweet peace ; for Qod teaches ns through our conscience that he is pleased with ns. Christina I always hearken to the voice of conscience, and never do any thing that is not right and just before God. 15. " You know well we are poor, and have very little in this wodd; but let us keep a good conscience, and we are rich enough ; and we will never want happiness — ^yes, the noblest and sweetest happiness in the world will be ours. i» ■» LESSON XXV1IL« wa-ters sev-en ex-tend-ing de-stroy-ed rest-ed pe-ri-od sub-sid-ed as-sign-ed mountain for-got-ten cov-e-nant dis-as-ter KOAH LXAVES THX ABK. THE waters, after the Deluge, remained upon ^e earth for a peiiod of one hundred and forty days. At the end of this time, God, who 90 8BCOir]) BBAI>XB. bad ift>t foi^^otten NcMih in the Ark, sent ^*th a strong wind^ which gradually driecLnp the waters. r/ 2. As the waters sabsided^ the Ark rested on the top of a monntadii^ called Ararat, in Arme- nidb After the Ark had rested for some time cm this mo^antain, Noah, anxions to know if the waters were dried up on the plains below, opened l^e window of the ark and sent forth a crow; but the crow did not return again to the Ark. 3. He then sent out a dove, which, not find' ing a place to rest upon, returned, and Noah extending his hand took it again into the Ark At the end of seven days the dove was sent out again, and in the evening of the same day returned, bearing a branch of green dive, which Noah joyfully receiv^d^ as he learned by this, not only that the waters had subsided, but that God was now reconciled with the world. 4. In obedience to the command of God^ Noah then went forth from the Ark, accompa- nied by his sons and. their familie^s and taking all the Hving cToaturea No sooner hibd lie reached the earUi, which had bea& so \3i&g deluged in water, than he eiiicted an alto ttdL M*»-i* , ^^^m^|»^mm r'*.'!PTr^?ir NOAH IiBATlS 7K£ ARC. 91 ofbred a aocnfioe to Almii^iif God, in grateM thanka ibr Ms preseiratiioii from the dangers of the destrojring flood God Was pleailed tritli the piety of Noah, and sioc^yted ^e aacrifiiw. 5. He blessed Mm and kiii dhildfen, and promised nearer to Qwme tlie eaiHih again on acooont of ike dins of men. ^ I wS eatabliah,*' said He, "my corenant with you, and all flesh shall no more be destroyed with the waters of the flood." r ^ 6. And as an evidence of his reconciliaiicm, and an assnrance of his promises, he assigned the riinbow as a token of peaoe between him- self and the human raca 7* " Whenever yon shall see my bow in the heavens," said he, "be assured that I am mind- ful of the oontract and the promises I have made, never to desti^oy the irorld aga^ with aiK>ther good." Faithfully has God ki^t liis promise; for to #ie prawHii time no inaftilar dis- aster has beMe& the wtin^ though th^ cnmm of men ocHoitinue da^ to cry to Heaven te vengeance. 8. Whenever we see tli# ^autifhl rainbow in iko heavtais^ it ought to remind v» of the 'saMKey im^ goodness of God towards us. And ^''«fl|ey-er dr-de dif-fer-ence se-n-ous de-struc-tion ex-cns-ed an-swer-ed A NEW GAME FOR OHILDBBK. ONE evening, during the Christmas holidays, after the children of St Bdmnnd^s School had exhausted all the games Ihey knew, they gatheredaround sister A?!, exclLing: "0^ sister, give us a new garnet" This was no sooner said by one than it was repeated by all He rest, until the good sister's ears were almost Stunned by the cries of^ ^^ Oh yes, sister, a Mw eP A NBV OAMB FOB OHILDREN. 93 2. At last she consented, if they would do ^ whatever she said, which ihr - ghidly agreed ta *^ Well, then," said 8h< form a circle around the stove." An( aXely a large ring was formed. *^Now, outiiije!" said sister Agnes ; and all wajs quiet except a few titters. 3. ^* I am going to give jou a game at thinh- mg^'^ said the sister. ^* I want you to think and tell me ihe beat tJimg you can^ ihod begins very SToall or trifling^ and ends in something very large^ great^ or beautiful 1 shall ju^e i^uU to be the best that has the greatest di^erence be- tween its beginning and its end. And I have a small pruse for the one that chooses the best" And she pulled out of her pocket a very large apple, plump and rosy. 4 "I shall give you ten minutes to think, and no one must speak till I say the time 18 up," The apple was greatly admired, and they were soon busy thinking. ^^ Time is up," said the sister ; and then ahe began to question the children, as follows : 5. " Well, Emiliy, what have you been think- ing of ?" ^ Going up a ladder," snid Emily; "we begin ^, >, o >r^.^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // // ^ **i M 1.0 I.I 1.25 lii lU Itt Itt 12^ Ml us 110 £ 121 3h 2.0 wuu I^tographic ScMices Corporalion 4^ Cv^ ^ <^ ^. as WIST MAIN STRHT VnMTIII,N.Y. MSM (7U)I71-4S03 4^ Q \ \ \ tBOOVD RXADXB. I! with a step from tlie gfoimcl, and end with get- ting to the top of a high house." ^^Yerj good," said sitter Agnee. ^ You be- gin with something very low, and end with something very high. A step at a time does Wonders, and gets over manj a difficulty. Now, Martha?" 6. ^^I have thought of the aoom and an oak|" said Martha. " We sow an aeom in tUe ground, and it results in a Urge, wide-spreading oak" '' That will do," said the sister. '* Seed is often very small, and the fruit sometimes a hundred-fold Let us see, then, that the seed we sow is good, so that the fruit may multiply accordingly. The next ?" 7. ^^ A fire," said Jenny; ^^a child can light a lucillr matoh, but thef end may be that a city is destroyed." "Very good," said sister Agnes. " Scripture reminds us how great a matter a little fire kindletfa. Beware of playing with Ap% then. " The next two had not thought of any thing. The sixth said — 8. ** I thought of a serious quarrel. A man might say an angry word to another, and thus cause » qiuirr^ And « Sght| and end in the lov of a life." «^ Very true. Scrip^nw caUa the tongue * an unruly member/ and compares a quarrel to a destruction by fire. Beware of eyil word& The next?" 9. ^* Mine is a brick and a house," said Xiucy. ** We begpi with a aingle brick and end with a large house." ^^Yesi it is sa Then never despise little things. Little by little does wonders. Now, Lizzy?" 10. ** I hare thought that we begin to learn a letter at^a time, and end by reading all ih» hard names in the. Bible." "Bravo I" cried ona "That's the prize," said another, .^ IL "Wait," said ^e sister; "it if a godi answer, and reminds me that some great men began to learn twice two are four, and ended by telling us how many miles distant the sun and moon are. Do i^t neglect your lessons, children. When you ave young ladies you will need all you can learn now." 12. The next three had not thought of ani" thing, GT dedined to say it after hearing Lizay's "«#■ m ^ 4 i ! ! I tl 96 SBOOITD RKADXB. :& -ilMM. answer. Last o( all, came litde Emma, wko, when called on, said — ** Oh, give^ the prize to Lizzjr, hers is snch a good one!'* 13. " But yon mnst tell ns yours,'* said the sister, smilingly. She begged timidly to be excused, though she had thought of something; but, at last, said, ** I have thought that we begin with asking Jesos to forgive us, and trusting in His diercy, and end with living forever with Him in heaven." 14 '' That's best of all,'' said Sarah. •* Silence," said sister Agnes ; " let me decide. Those who have given an answer have answered well, and given several good instances of the result of little thing& Never despise little things when you see to what they lead, biat 1 Ibink you will agree wi& me that Emma's is the best answ^. It begins on earth — ends in heaven. It begins while we are lost and ruined — ends with u$ «c|/^, Jioly, and happy. 15. "And let us, deep children, not be con- tent with thinking an# speaking of that great salvation, but let us look well to the preaeni meane — bbuevino in God, and serving Him alone; and our final end will be happineM WILLT AJTB BIS LITTLX 8I8TXB. ^7 with Him. in heayen." The apple was giren to Emma, irho insisted that all should have an equal share of the Prizb. Was not this a nice game, and a nseful one, too? LESSON XXX. de-sire drift-ing pre-vent-ed has-ten-ed dur-ing hap-pen-ed anx-i-ons shol-ter-ing win-ter cov-er-ed cheer-ful-ly un-a-ble WILLT AKD HIS LITTLE "SISTER.. MANY years ago, there lived in the State oi ■^ C^o, not far fix)m the river of that name, a poor widow with two children, WilUwn, or 98 8I00ND BIADIB. Willy, a8 he was usuaDj called, and Nell, his sister. The widow desired that the two chil- dren should have learning, and sent them to a school about a mile aS. 2. Now this school, at that early period, was only kept daring the winter, and the children had many a cold walk to get to it They did not mind this ; they were anxious to learn, and it was the will of their parent, and they went cheerfully. 3. it happened one morning in February, that Willy and his sister went to school as usual. The morning was clear and mild, but towards evening the sky was covered with dark clouds, the wind began to blo*^, and a drifting snow began to fall in large white flakes, and in such I iquantities that a person could scarcely see more than a few yards in any direction. 4. When school was out, the children all hastened towards their homes. Little Willy, taking his sister by the hand, ran along as fast as he could towards his mother^s house. But the snow blew in their faces and prevented them from making much headway. 5. The road lay through a wood ; and, pass- ing through this, they lost their way, and night WILLT ASD HIS LITTLS SISTSB. 99 came on before they were able to find thor way to the road again. Poor little Nell cried with fright and cold. Willy, however, kept np his courage, and tried to cheer his sister bj telling her not to cry, and to hold on firmly to his hand, and he would lead her safely out of the woods. Bnt the snow and wind increased, «nd all the efforts of the poor little children to find their way home were in vain. 6. At last Nell fell down, and was unable to go any &rther. WiUy took her in his arms and tried to carry her. But he had not gone far, when he too fell, overcome with the &tigue of walking and carrying his sister. 7. At this time they were quite near the edge of the wood, and not &r from a large tree. Willy, after -resting a little, took up his sister again and carried her to the tree, and sat down with her, sheltering her the best he could from the drifting snow. 8. The poor widow, when the children did not return at dark, became almost distracted. She ran to several of her neighbors, telHng them that Willy and his sister were lost, as she expected, in the woods, and asked them to go out with her and try to find them. II 100 dBOOKB BBJLDXR. 9. These kind-hearted people went with her, and after several hours^ hunting the^r fbund Willy and his sister at the foot of the large tree, almoA frozen to deatL They picked them up in their arms and carried them to the widow^s house, where, with the aid of a large fire and some warm drink, they were soon restored. ^»» brought shrine breath thought watch smile sweet LESSON bright blpoiyi thrqne song gift long spot XXXI. take heart might pray whitck word dowi^ jew-el pret-ty yir-gin ki^eel-ing sim-ple dew-drop be-hold LITTLE ELLEN'S MAY SONG. 1. T^ROM thy bright throne above the sky, A Look down on us, mother sweet! ^ And smile upon the gift which I Here ofifer, kneeling at thy feet 2. Mother of God, and mother mine! IVe brought some simple flowers fo-day, ^ That they may bloom upon th j shrine, The long, long hours that Tm away^ 3. Behold how fresh and fair they are I I called them for thee, mother dear;. Look down, brightest morning star! . See on their leaves the dew-drops clear. 4. If I had gold or jewels rare, rd place them at thj feet ; But these are pretty flowers and fisur— Oh, take them, virgin sweet I ■V. 102 BBOOND BBADBB. lESSON XXXII. in-siste roagh-ly in-ter-est-ed will-ing ad-yis-ed rep-u-ta-tion ad-vice o-blig-ed ey-a^nes-cent fin-gera oon-cliid-ed ni^Vu-'ral-lj THE BBLF-TTILLED BOY. CHARLES is a boy who always insists upon haying his own way. It certainly must be that he thinks he knows more than anybody in the whole world, for he is jieyer willing to take adyice, not eyen from his father and mother, who, of coarse, know much better than he does, what is best for him. 2. He caught a yiolent cold the other day, and was confined to the house a week, because he would not wear his cloak to school, fts his mother adyised him to do ; and it was but the other eyening that he burned his fingers yery badly, when roasting chestnuts, simply because he would not take his mother's adyice, and take them out with the tongs. He has had both trouble and disgrace many a time on account of this obstinate temper, but he does not seem to improye. 3. He had kept at the head of his Lathi daaa almost a month — and in two days more, would have obtained the medal, for which he was ao anzions; bat one day, thinking that the lesson looked very easy, he concluded not to take his Latin Grammar, for he had a great many books to carry, and he thought he should be able to learn his lesson without it 4 His elder broths, who knew much more about Latin than he did, and was in a higher class, observing that when he put his books into his satchel, he did not take his grammar, said to him: **Are you not going to take home your grammar, Charles?^* 6. "No indeed," said Charles; "I thmk I can learn that little easy* lesson without a grammar." : ;. "I don't believe you can," aiyrJohn; "I know I could not, when I went over it — and I don't think you can. Take my advice, and carry home your grammar, or you will be sorry for it" "No, I shall not," replied Charles, as he threw his satchel over his should^ ; "and I am not going to tFonble myself about that" I ■i'>*»nw*«iw»" •f 104 8I00KD BIADBB. 6. So Charles went home without his gram- mar ; bat when he began to studj his lesson in the evening, he found that he conld not learn at all without it He would have asked his brother John to help him, but he felt ashamed. Howeyer, he finally concluded that he would rather ask assistance firom him than lose his place in the class ; but when he went to look for John, he found that he had gone out Gharleawas then obliged to learn as much of the lesson as he could without the grammar, and leave the rest — ^for John did not come home until after Obarles had gone to bed. 7. The next morning he had no time to look at his lesson; and after he had taken his place in the class, he found he could hardly answer a single question — and he lost his place in the class at the very first question that was asked him. He felt sorry indeed then that he had not taken John's advice; but his sorrow was not of the right kind, for it did not lead him to do better. ' ' 8. The grief and shame arising £rom the loss of his enviable reputation, Charles soon got over. He began to study Natural History, and was very much interested in it One day he J THE BBLr*WILLBD BOT. 106 saw a robin's neat in an apple-tree, in the gar- den. He was mnch pleased at the discoyery, for he had been very anxious to watch some birds feeding their jonng, and teaching them to fly. 9. He ran and told his father, and aaked him if he might pat the nest^ a cage, and hang it on the bough of a tree — hoping that the old birds would go in there, and feed their young. His &ther told him that he might, and was so kind as to go out into the garden and help him to fix the cage. He then went away, and advised Charles to go away too, lest he should frighten the birds from going into the cage. . 10. But Charlte thought he knew better than his father, and niight stay a little while without danger of friglitening tiie birds. So he per- suaded Robert to hold the ladder for him^ "just for two or three minutes.*' Pretty soon the old bird began to fly about the tree, and was just about to enter the cage, when Charles, in his delighti started forward, and forgot to hold on by the rounds of the ladder. He very narrowly escaped falling, by catching hold of the bough upon which the cage was stationed. 6« 106 BEOOND BSADSB. 11. But he shook the bough so rooghly that the string by which the cage hung, broke, and it was dashed to the ground. The little birds were killed, and Chfirles was very sorry that he had not taken his father^s advice. 12. He formed a resolution never again to be so self-willedr Year after year he faithfully followed the rule laid down of his own accord, and wjien on his death-bed, he said, ^^ Never wish to have your awn way,''^ ^>» » lov-ing Bofb-ly bloom-ing flow-ers LESSON XXXIII. de-scends a-part in-inn-cy heav-en fer-vor flow-er-et show-ers bos-om be-gin-ning bath-ed fa-vor-ed un-fa-ding ^*HB OOMES TO BEST WITHIN MT HEART.** 1. TJE comes to rest within my heart, A J. As meek as infancy ; \ Oh, what shalLever tear apart This loving Guest from me ! 2. As on the softly-blooming flowers The dews descend at even. So grsce upon my heart in diowers Descends from holy Heayen. 3. And as the flow*ret, bathedin dew, Breathes odors from its breast, So shall my favored bosom, too, Breathe fervor to mv^nest 4. Ho comes to rest within my heart, As meek as infancy : Oh, what shall ever tear apart This loving Guest from me I • »■ r * . h 108 BBOOVD RBADBS. de-light-ed cm-el-ly o-pen-ing scat-ter-ed LESSON- XXXI Y. ex-ceed-ing ro-guish-ly pret-ti-ly ^ ac-qaaint-ed w THB BEDBBEAST. per-oeiv-<>d beau-ti-ful po-ta-toes will-ing-ly LITTLE Martin was deKghted beyond meas ure with the birds in the wood and theii sweet songs. " Grandfather," said he, " may we not catch one and take it home to the house?" 2. *'Nay," answered his grandfather, must not be." "Why not?" said the child. "Th|^ delightfully. In the house we might alwiBpf hear them sing." 3. " You can hear them singing here in the wood," said his grandfather; "it sounds better here. The poor birds that men ca so cruelly, seldom live long, and often pe by their neglect." 4. One fine harvest day, however, in autumn, the grandfather and his grandson were seated in a sunny opening of the wood, at their humble THX BSDBRXAAT. 109 dinner, which the boj had as usual brought with him in a basket 5. A robin redbreast came and pidked up the crumbs scattered about The little fellow WW delighted with it ** What a very pretty bird I ^^ exclaimed he to his grand&ther, speak- ing low, however, in order not to disturb it ^^ There is nothing I would not give to have such a bird in our room during the winter.*' f 110 SBCOVD BSAlXi&R. 6. ** And 80 yoa may/* answered liis grand- father; *Hhe robin is a yerj tame bird, and willing^ dweUs with man. Perhaps it would rather paas the winter under a rooi^ than in the open air/' His grandfather then taught the boy how to catdi one. 7. Little ]i&||hi ran every day, for a whole week, to the lm>d, to tte if there was not a^ robin caught But he always eame home empty»hmde^ apid had dtnost giv^ up all hopes of 0^$iig one. M last, one day he came ninifil% liMlM fli^ of Joy. 8. «' GfaaiMber,'' he llriWl, **8ee, I have one ai'laitl €^, ktdc al Ilia beiatiftil, little, bright, bladk eyes^ and wImiI a lovely yellow- red his bEiiit M S am not sal)^ now (or all my care and trouble.* Hi let the bird fly in the room, a^ his d#^ht was yet greater when he perceived that it was not afraid, but snapped up the flies about the room, ate the grated, yellow turnips mixed with flour, out of the little, green earthenware trough, and washed himself in the water-bowL 9. Martin brought a fresh, green, little pine from the wood, and fixed it in the comer of the room. The bird immediately flew to it THS BXDBBXAST. Ill 'Tell ac- ofif his and eat *^ Aha !^* exclaimed |[artiii, ** he kiioip|]uB place. How liyely he napi ftom branch to branch I How rognishlj' he loois oi$ from belireen the branchos, axiA |bw |i^k^ Ui^^cL breast con- trasts with^ir itfA ge^nT* 10. The^ifi^kl iiiOii becit quainted wft& hipi #o«ld p! fingers, s^ ^. t|ii «dg)B of Ui with him ; «ii^i||Dil Came t0 exceedinglj. " IIK|^i& went ^ window into ^ gafdeiii^ and hedge, singing, but always came back of his own accord. 11. The bird wa^ the source of a thousand pleasures to Martin ; and when he first began to sing, Martin held his breath, and listened with such delight to the low, livelj twitter, that no prince ever heard' a first-rate flute- player with more pleasure. es open about the l O — eight thick Hght plain lEssoN xxxy. school Ute bright rule pray should right sirk stuff dunce short leam it 112 8100HD UBADSB. <»OIKO TO dOHOOK. * MOTBKB. L WILLip, it ia half-past eight, w' Andlfearyon wittbehite; DoD^t forget jroor teacher's nide; Take your hat, atid nm to 8cho<^ WILLIXi 2. Mother, I am tired to-day, v Let me stay at h6in6, 1 pray ; The air is iraims, and dosoi and thick^ And, really, I am almost sick. . . MOTBXB» 9^ Tonr cheek is red, yomr eye is bright, Your hand is cool, your step is light; OOIVO TO SCHOOL. 113 At breakfi»t-time joa Ate jom fill — How can it be that joa are ffl f 4. True, mother, Tiaiiot M enough To take 1117 be^/t^ dockn^V stuff; Bat yet iKt home pray le| lis stay^ — I want to nm alK>iit an^^pay. ^ Ahl thaf I ftdi Ihing. 1^6w, let me see, Next Jime yglypiine yean old infi he ; And if yoa ^^^ Btaj at h^me, What olyoiur le^^i^u^ 6. BvLijugt this anedfAl shall not stay At home another sin^e day ; I do not think *t will^nake a fool To stay JtM< once amy from sdiooL HOTBXB. 7. Stay^pi, and it is v^ plain Yot^wish to do the same again ; IVe seen a litUe teasing dunce, Whose ory was always, Jualihia once/ 6. A day*s but a short time, you know — 1 shaU learn little, if I go; •?•■ i Beiidefit IVe had no tim« M all To try mj marbles and mj biplL 9. The be0 gains little J^m ft jBower— A stQpe a d«^ wiU, i^se a towior ; Yet the Utq ifi filled, the^^er is done^ Ifsteadilygpf^orkgoeia^oo, r 10. Have yoa ^got t|^t weary day Ypii 9t|ty9d ^ home from 8cbQ9l to play ? How ojften you went in and out, ' And how yoi; fretted all about? ' 11. Then think how ^y yon laugh and ^n, When school is o*er, and W0]$ is done ; There's nothing flOs the heart with joy Like doing as we Bhculd^ my boyi 12. Yes, mother, yon are right, 'tis plain ; I shall not ask to stay again ; I will not — ^no, not even for once — Leave school for play, and be a dnnce. <««^ ten-der-ly as-sur-Qd hes-i-tate LESSON IIITI. of-fe;rHQd mur-mnr-ing in-tend-ed la^t^n-ed joup-ney-ed p^-tri-arch ABRABAH't I^ACBIFIOE. 115 ABBASAM'b :|A«Biri€B. GOD, to try tlie fldth of Abra^sm, ordered him to take his son baao, whom he tenderly lovedf «nd offer him in sacrifice «n a certain mornitalfi ifiiick He sbonld poiiA out to him. The holy-patiiareh, tlioagh hQ had been assured that his son woirid beeoiM the filler of a nu- merous race, did not hesitate a moment to obey the command of God. 2. Without delay, he made the preparations necessary for the sacrifice; and, rising early m the morning, he set out, accompanied by his son Isaac and two servants. I 116 8X0OKD BXADXB. 3. When they came to the foot of the moun- tain, on whicjii the offering was to be made, Abraham tolil Ike servaots to remain there, while he and his am ihonld go np and adore God. He carried in Ilia hmd ^ fire and sword, while IsaiN) l^re on his shoulders the wood destined to eonsnme the rietim. 4. As thej jonniuqrefl togettor^ Isaac asked his fiither wheie the i^c^ was whMi ihey in- tended to olbm Ihii qtrastioB deeply touched the patriarch's heift^^JMit he dissembled his feelingij^ iyid tegVM, 4ayu^|f ^&^my son, will pro^de a viotiMfar WamXt^ 5. Having arriTed at the top of the moun- tain, Abraham erected an altar, and taking Isaac, bound him to the pilei l^en he took his sword, and iras ab^ut to biir^ its point in the breast of lus son, when m a&g^ stayed his arm. at the same tiuuB cnJ^iiMg hkttk by name. Abrahem looked rowid, and saip a ram^fi^tened by the horns among the brambles, which he took and offered in sacrifice instead of his son. 6. From the ready obedience of Abraham, children should learn to obey Almigby God, who speaks to them through their peirei^ and superiors, without murmuring of and witbont stopping to inquire the reaaoos why they are required to do what they are desired. By doing this, obedience will beoome a pleasing dnty, and endear them to all who know thenL , ^t» ! LESSON XXXTII. wood-ran-ger fowl-ing-piece di-rec1red re-tom-ed for-ee4er rar-i-ty yege-il^es cai^li-flow-^ pos-si-ble di-rec-tion po-si-tion fidth-fuMy de-acrib-ed pil-grim-age TH9 OAKBS. Y 0X1118^ l^red, m gKf^M^elj bo^aboat ten ylHH eld^ iros the son 4)1 ^e iRod-ranger. His &tker foedved « letter one moffiii^, which he waa td ewijto the caafle tfiAt kiy beyond very high nioQtttiiii(%. JNil in the heart of a thick forest 2. *^ It win be a hard jonmey/^ said the fa- ther, **especiaHy as the hurt I. got the other ^ HI Uio foot, wh«i we wert hunting, is not yel heiAed. Bnt sinoe onr good master orders it, I mWdbey.'* 118 8B0OND itlADBB. 3« But Fr^d offered to cany the letter, ** Send me, dear fikthm*," lie said. ** The whole road, I know, goes through a foreat| but I do iiot niiiid that I know it well froBoi this to our own bounds, and can easily find out the rest of it, and safely give the letter into the hands of Herr von Bai])ifn(rtiii|." 4 ''Tes7weU,"3kua the ftth^; ''give the leUer into his own h^^^^s-^-jou km>w him we& There is a largo suia of ^o^^ey 4:11 Urn tetter; perhape yo« may g«t mmOmg for yow tw* ble." He then described the road &>? Vjp^ TXS OAXSS. 119 6. Ue little fellow budded on his hunting- poach, and slinging his fcwling^piece orer his sfaoolder, started ol )t i;>mnie7. €. He arrived jafo ai the oasUe, and told the sorants the: he haa been directed to deliver the letter iui.o the master's own hand. A ser- vant led him np the broad stone stej^s, into a splendid apartment, where von Rauhenstein was engaged with a partj of officers at the card-table. 7. Fred made his best bow to the gentlemen, and dehvered his letler, in wliicli|4t appeared, there were one hmidred gold piecea Herr von Rauhenstein went to his wnting-desk, and wrote a few lines, admowledging ^e receipt of the moneys *^ All right,'* said he, sitting down in a hurry to the card^taUe. ^ Ton can retire now — ^no other answw is at present necessary — ^it will follow you." H. WiiSk ^ heavy heart, peer Fred relumed iomn the broad stone stairs ; for he was hungry and thirsty, and quite tired. But as he was passing through the court, he was met by the cook, who was coming out d the garden, with a large knife in one hand afid some cauliflowers in the otiier. She knew, by the poor boy's face, the atate of his feelings. 120 BIBCOND BSADSB. 9. ** Come with me, little forest^/' said she, kindly, *^ and I will give you some bread and a drink of good beer. You might otherwise fiednt npon the road: you are fiir from home, and there is not a single house on the way. Tou must not take it ill of our master that he offered you nothing to eat : he does not think of such things ; yet he finds no &ult when we giye*to those^who need it^' 10. The cook led Fred into the kitchen, where the l^ge fire was blazing on the hearth. "Lay aside you/ pouch and fowling-piece, and sit down here," said she, pointing to a little table in the cornei of the kitchen. She then brought him plenty of soup and meat, vegeta- bles and bread, and a small pot of beer. 11. Fred thought he had never been feasted so sumptuously. He was refreshed, and ready for his journey ; but before he started, he said to the cook, one hundred times, at least, ^^ Grod reward you!" and that, too, with as much rev- erence as if she had been the lady of the castle. He eVen kissed her hand, although she tried to prevent him. 12. Happy as a prince, Fred set out on his journey. But when he had been nearly half an TBIB 0AKX8. 131 hour cm the road, he saw a iqnirrel in an open space in the forest The little animal was quite a rarity to him, for he had scarcely ever seen one in the forest where he lived. Fred was very young, and, perhaps, the good beer had got into his head ; but, at all events, he resolved to take the squirrel alive. 13. He ihing a piece of a rotten bough at the little animal, and started in full ehase, from oak to of^, into the depths of the black forest, where he lost sight of his game, w/f^ what was much more serious, lost the road. He wan- dered about during the rest of the day, and half the succeeding night, throi^h tiie thick forest, till, at last, sinking with hunger and fatigue, he crept beneath some low bushes, and fell into a troubled sleep. 14. He rose in the morning, more faint than he had been before he lay down. He looked around, and advakiced he knew not whither. The place was utterly unknown to him. The wild deer, starting up and bounding off in ter- ror when they saw him, convinced him that he must be in the heart of some unfrequented wood. 16. A herd of swine crossed his path, and among them a huge boar, which threatened 123 8E00VD BBADEB. him with its sharp tasks, and made tha poor boj scream in agonj, snd fly for his life. H« oontinned to wander about mitil noonday, when, nnable to move farther, he tottered and fell exhausted to the ground. 16. He cried and called as loud as he could, but there was no answer except the echo of his voice in the silent forest. He could nowhere find a berry or even a drop of water to quench his hunger and thirst He cast himself^ faint and despaiillig, at the foot of a pine-tree. He earnestly prayed to God not to let him famish in the forest 17. Tormented by hunger, he searched in his pouch, to find, if possible, a few crumbs of the bread which he had brought with him from home, and eaten on the road to Bauhenstein. But what was his joy — ^his rapture, on finding a large piece of cake and some juicy peara '*0h!" said he, ^4t was the cook put these here, without my knowledge." ^ 18. The poor boy shed tears of gratitude, and resolved that he would be always charitsr ble to the needy, especially if they were stran- gers; and also, that if ever he were rich encmgh, he certainly would not forget the kindness of T«B GAl^BS, 12i3 the good eook. ^'Uodw Gpd," said he, **it was she that saved my life. If she had not giveii me the cake and pears, I should hav.e perished here in the wild forest ^^ 19. Fred rose, refreshed and strengthened, and proceeded onward again with renewed ooarage. He walked on in the direction of his home, as well as he could judge bj the position of the sun ; and after having advanced for about three miles, he heard th<9 cheering sounds of the woodman^s axe in t^g|distance. 20. Harrying on in the direcEon of the sounds, he found two men cutting down a large pine-tree. They pointed out the road he must take, and he arrived safely, to the great joy of his parents, who had been dreadfully alarmed on his account 21. His father reproved him severely, and gave him good advice. " Thus it is,^' said he, among other things, ^^when men allow them- selves to be drawn away from the right road to follow their pleasures. You might have per- ished in that wild wood, far from your father's house, without the poor consolation even of catching that squirrel. 22. ^^Our way through life is like a road ^ 124 SZOOITD BSADSB. throBgh a wild forest, where numj a pleasure, like lluit alluring little animal, seeks to entice us from the path of virtue. As I, dear f*red, faithfully described to you the right road through the forest, so God points out to us in his commandments the true path for our pil- grimage through this world. Let no earthly pleasure ever seduce you to the right or the left, from jbhe way of virtue. One false step might ruin you forever, and prevent you from entering your truefUiher's house beyond the grave. 23. "The love of pleasure," he continued, "perverts the heart of man, and makes him insensible to noble and generous feelings. Herr von Bauiienstein, with whom you are so much displeased, is far from being a bad man. But he was so much taken up with his play, that he never thought either of giving yon some refreshment, though you stood so much in need of it, or some money, though the hun- dredth part of what he had staked that mom* ing would have sent you home as happy as a prince. 24. " But guard yourself against that whioh displeases you so much in another; let your pleasure or your own will never engage you, ■■■ ' ■ ■ ■ ' ' ■ I , ■ ■ , ST. akoxla's Tisioir. 125 so as to make yon insensible to the wants and happiness of others. Imitate whateyer join find good in others ; be ever as kind luad gen- erous to all men as Rosalie, the cook, was to yon in the castle of Ranhenstein.'* ^>» lESSON XXXYin. qni-et or-phan lov-ed with-out vir-gin tibink-ing liv-ed want-ed nn-cle sel-dom a-part spir-its per-son lone-ly lOY-ing oth-er moth-er thir-ty call-ed re-quest ST. ANGEItl.*E^ TXAION. You have all heard i^nt Itdj. It is a lovdy land. Rome k in Italf, and our Holy Father the Pope lives in Aome. 2. WeQ, in a town named Salo, in Italy, a great many years ago, there lived two little girls, who were orphans. Their parents had been very wealthy, but they were dead, and the little girls lived with their uncle. 3. These little orphans loved God very much, and they wanted to do His will in all thinga When we see a rose-bud, we know it will I 126 SBOOND BB^DBB. blosaom and be » rose. When we see a child loving Ck>d more than all eke, we are very eer- tain that God will &yor that child with great graces. 4 These littk girls wi'^hed to be alone with God. Once they went far away into a lonely place, that they might be free to pray, and to think of JesuB. Their ancle found them at laat, «t^ took them home, but gave them a qoiet place in his house ; and there the/ Hved pure and prayer- ful lives, like angda. 5. One of the little girls was named Angela. Is it not a lovdy name ? I thii^E it must be a ST. AjraXLA^B YIAXOH. 127 very dull, gr « vary bad person, who cvi faeaz it, without thinking of Grod and Heair«in. 6. These little giris loved each other more than most sisters do, because thej loved God so much. Thejr were seldom a{)art, and were so dear to each other that, to see Uiem, one would think that if one of them were to die, it would break the heart of the other. 7. But God chose to let the little saint An- gela be left without this sister, and so He caUed her to himself She died before a priest could be called: so little Angela was very sad about the state of her sister's soul 8. She asked God to give her light upon this; and her request was made with such sim- ple &,ith, that it was granted, 9. .%e wiis passing once through a beautiful place, when sl^e cao^ to a road, called the Narrow One. Here sh« saw a bright doud, and paused to look at it 10. The road to Heaven is a narrow one, so it was well thaiahe saw what die did in this place. While she was looking at the doud, she saw the virgin Mother of God with her sister, and they were bright with the light of Heaven. 11. There were with them a great many fiiir angela, with white wings and golden harps; and do yon wonder that little Angela fell upon her knees, and thanked Grod with all her heart? 12. Her sister told her to be jnst as loying and true to God ail through her life as she then was, to try and be bett(ir and better every day, and that then she would at last share in her glory.' 13. The cloud vanished from her sight; but little Saint Angela was left with a joy in her soul, like the bliss of the holy spirits in the skies. 14. You should read her life, and learn from her to be good and pure. Her feast is the thirty-first of May. Little Angela became the foundress of a great religious order in the Church, called the Ursulines, who are constantly engaged in in- structing little ch^dren. LESSON XXIIX hear land band shore bet-ter sun-ny per-fume star-ry fra-grant or-ange re-gion ra-di-ant feath-er-y glit-ter-ing glo-ri-ouB di-a-mond THB BBTTBB LABD. 129 1. THB BBTTBB LAITD. ^* T HEAR thee speak of the better land; -L Thon callest its children a h^ppj band. Mother, oh, where is that radiant shore ? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance thro\ i the mjrtle boughs?" "Not there, not there, my child." " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe nndier sunny skies ? Or ^mid the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright bird% on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glarious things?" "Not there, not tiiere, my child." " Is it far away, in m^ jn^gioa old. Where the rivers wonder o*er sands of gold. Where the burning rays of the mby shine. And the diamond lights up the secret mine. And the pearl gleams forth from the coiiJ strand,— Is it there, sweet modier, that better landf * " Not there, not there, my child. ** Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy, Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; Breams cannot picture a world so Mr ; Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time docs not breathe on its fadeless bloom. Far beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb : It is there, it is there, my child." ^•» nice-ly mot-tied bird-lings LESSON XL. iurstead branches dwell-ings qui-et crea-tures of-ten con-trive won-der per-haps THB BIRD^S KBST. WHO has not seen a birdV nest, hid away ever so nicely among the green branches in some quiet spot? 2. How pretty it looks, and how glad little boys are when they spy it out, with its mottled little eggs or its young family of birdlings. If the parent birds be near, 'they will caiefnlly conceal their little ones, and boys cannot take them or the eggs ; but when the old birds are away in search of food, then bad boys often rob the nest, without thinking, perhaps, of the grief it will cause then^ - 3. Instead of robbing birds* nests, boys ought to examine them, and see how they are made. If they do, they will wonder liow little crea- tures like the birds can contrive such dwellings for their young, and make them without aid from man. 4. Then you will think how is it that birds can do such things, and you will remember that it is our good God who gives the bird skill to build its nest You wiU see in it another proof of the wonderM care which God has over all his creatures ^■» ut-ter hid-den mo-tion lESSON ILL feU-ing con-trite thy-self sim>plest sin-ners maj-es-ty e-ter-nal M-low-ship in-ter-cede 133 8B00ND BBADBB. PBATSR. L pRAYER is the sours sincere desire, -■• Uttered or unexpressed ; The motion of a hidden fire, That trembles in the breast 2., Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glantnng of an eye. When none but God is near. 3. Prayer is the amplest form of speech Piai^k&nt lips can try ; Prayet tlie sublimest strains that reach The Majesty. on high. 4 Prayer is the Christianas vital breath, The Christianas native air ; His watchword at the gates of death : He enters heaven by prayer. 6. Prayer is the rinner'g contrite voice, Betaming from his ways; While angdbs, in their songS| rejoice, And say: ^* Behold, he prays!'' THE FOLD AND THE SHEPHERD. 133 church cares fold tends lESSON XIII. fidnt be-long psrcb-ed shade shep-herd stand-ard tre^ bles8-ed plant-ed quite wea-iy shad-ed THE FOLD AND THE BHEPHBBD. TOU have all heard of the fold of Christ, my dear children. Well, that fold means the Church, to which you and all of us belong, — the Church founded by Christ himself, when he lived on earth, to keep His people from wandei> ing about the world, like sheep that had no shepherd. That is His fold, and in it He gath- ers all His people together, tends, and cares for them, as a good shepherd does his sheep. 134 8EC0KD BEADEB, 2. In the picture you see our blessed Lord giving drink from His chalice to one of His poor sheep. I am sure it has been straying away from the fold ; for it looks faint and weary, as thougji it had travelled far without any thing to eat or drink. 3. How kindly our Lord raises, its poor head^ and puts the cap to its parched lips ! So He does with the poor sinner who returns to Him. 4. You see the cross in the shade of that spreading tree. That is our Lord^s standard, planted by himself within His Church. See how the sheep lie in the cool shade of the tree, around the foot of the cross. They seem quite happy. So will you, too, dear little boys and girls, so long as you keep near the cross which is shaded by the Tree of Life. ^»»i gen-tle wip-ed in-fant moth-er won-der a-lone LESSON hap-py kiss-ed bum-ing mem-o-ry hap-py lit-tle XIIIL an-gel watch-ed be-gan morn-ing heav-en im-age ex-pand spar-kle ho-ly pleas-ed al-ways chid-ing THB OBPHAN^B BSOOLLEOTIONS. 135 THB OBPHAN'S BBOOCLBOTIONS OF A MOTHBa 1. T HAVE no mother I for she died 1 When I was yery joung ; But still her memory round my hearty like morning mists, has dung. 2. They tell me of an angel form, That watched me while I slept^ And of a soft and gentle hand That Viped the tears I wept : 3. And that same hand that held my own When I began to walk ; The joy that sparkled in her eyes When first I tried to talk. 136 BBOOND READER. 4 They say the mother^s heart is pleased When in&nt charms expand ; I wonder if she thinks of me In that bright, happy land. 5. I know 8he*is in heaven now, That holy place of rest ; For she was always good to me — The good alone are blest 6. I remember, too, when I was ill, She kissed my burning brow ; The tear that fell upon my cheek — I think I feel it now. 7. And I have got some little books, She taught me how to spell ; The chiding or the kiss she gave I still remember well 8. And then she used to kneel with me, And teach me how to pray, And raise my little hands to Heaven, And tell me what to say. ^ 9. mother, mother I in my heart Thy image still shall be. And I will hope in heaven, at last, That I may meet with thee. ST. FBANOIS DB SALES. 137 LESSON XLIV. dead-ly con-suit gov-ern-ed at-tend-ants bish-op dis-tance Prot-est-ant thou-sands ooun-try mild-ness re-deem-ed ad-dress-ed m-lers re-tire as-sas-sins a^mend-ment Cath-o-lio at-tempt ao-com-plish prob-a-ble ST. FBAirOIS DB SALES. THIS holy man wa?. bishop of Geneva^ in Switzerland. In his day, the Catholics were but few in that country, and the rulers, Hke most of the people whom they governed^ were Protestant, and much opposed to the spread of 138 8B00KD BBABEB. the Catholic faith. But St Francis cared little for the opposition of men, so long as he did the will of God, and saved the souls redeemed by the blood of Christ. So he undertook to convert the people from their error; and bj his preachkg, and still more by his good ex- amplC) many thousands were brought into the Church. 2: Now this gave great offence to the nobles and great men of the nation, and they said among themselves, that if St Francis were -allowed to go on in that way, the people would all become Catholics very soon. So they began to consult about the best means of getting rid of the great Catholic, bishop ; and they deter- mined to employ two wicked men, called assas- sins — ^that is, my dear children, men who will kill any one for 'money — ^to meet St Francis on one of his journeys, and put him to death. 3. In the picture you see the two ruffians advancing, with naked swords, to meet the holy man as he passed through a dark and lonely wood. But God would not permit them to accomplish their wicked purpose. When St Francis saw them, he ordered his attendants to retire some distance; and then going for- w mcis were ward alone, be addressed the aflsaflsina with that mildness for which he was remarkable. 4. '*Yoa must take me for some one else, my good friends,*' said he ; " for I am sure you would not attempt to kill a person who never injured you." The ruffians were so astonished by the pre- late's mild yet fearleas demeanor, and the ineffiv ble sweetness of his countenance, that they forgot their deadly purpose and the gold which was to be the reward of their crime ; and, Ml- ing at the saint's feet, they confessed their evil design, and with tears besought his pardon. St Francis was but too happy to forgive them, and, after a short exhortation to future amend- ment, dismissed them with his blessing; and summoning his attendante, went on his way rejoicing in the probable conversion of two wicked men. ■••^ mes-sen-ger de-scend-ing ex-pect-ed rap-tur-ous ' an-noon-ces lESSON XIY. ap-pear-ed a-dom-ed mys-te-ry il-lu-mine slum-ber-ing cav-ems mor-tals her-ald sor-priie si-lence 140 SBCONl) BEADEB. THE MESSENGEB ANOBL. 1. T^HE Messenger Angel, descending at A ' night, Chased silence and shadow, with mnsic and light; The shepherds that watched upon Bethle- hem's plain, \ Heard the. Messenger Angel, and this was his strain : ** Peace,", he said, " unto mortals and glory to Heav^en, — The Expedited of old to mankind has been given ; Rejoice at the splendors that herald His birth. For your Saviour to-day has appeared upon earth. 2. * Lol the fields are adorned with the ver- dure of May, And the chill breast of winter with^ roses is gay; The winds that made war o'er the &uce of the deep. Have sought their dark caverns; and lain down to sleQp. 'Mid the feast of all nature, rise, mortak) arise ! And the mystery view with a holy surprise ; Rejoice at the glory that heralds His birth, For yoar*Savioiir to-day has appeared upon earth. 3. *^ See, the wise men of nations advance from a&r, O'er the pathway i^^amined by Jacob's bright stair ; To Bethlehem's grotto their treanires they bring. And adore at the shrine of the heavenly King. The Gentiles in darkness are slumbering no more. But worship the God whom they knew not before, And follow the light which announces His birth, . For their Saviour to-day has appeared upon eartL" ,i 4. Yet chanted the seraph, when rapturous strains, From a thousand bright angels, awakened the plains; 142 3SCOND BSADSB. 1 Ethereal splendor encircled the throng That caught up his theme and re-echoed his song; The same burden was swelled by each heav- enly voice : '*The Expected is come: happy mortals, rejoice 1 Rejoice at the glories that herald His birth. For your Saviour to-day has appeared upon earth." ^>»i griev-ed be-yond as-sist pit-y LESSON XLVI. sii-ver preach, ref-uge world par-ents prfest help-less built ST. VINCENT DB PAUL. charge brought means part DID any of my little readers ever hear of St. Vincent de Paul ? If they did not, then I will tell them something about him. He lived in France, a great and beautiful country far away beyond the Atlantic Ocean. When St Vincent lived, some two hundred years ago, there we. a)^M wicked people in the world. ri ST, VIIfOENT DE PAUL. 143 -4^ OH there are now, and it grieved the good saint very mnch ; for he loved God beyond all else, and he conld not bear to see Him outraged by sin. 2. Well, where there is mnch sin theie is sure to be much misery, and ^ckness, and sor- row; and so it was in the days when St. Vincent was among men. Knowing that God had made all men, and died for all, the bad as well as the good, St yincent loved them for God's sake — as all good Christians ought to do— end he 144 SBOOND BXADBB. thought he would try some means to relieve the wretohedneas which he saw around him. 3. Si Vincent was not rich; but he was a priesti and could preach to the rich as well as the poor. So he began to preach about the sufferings of the poor, and the numberless souls that were going to perdition for want of care, and attention on the part of those who oould assist them And the great and the noble and the rich who heard him were moved with pity, and they began to bring gold and silver to St Vincent for the relief of the poor and the pro- tection of the innocent among them. 4 And the saint "^aa rejoiced beyond meas^ ure that God had given him the means of doing so much good; and immediately he went to work and built hospitals and many other places of refuge for the poor and the miserable, where they were sheltered and taken care o£ Among other things that St. Vincent did, he established a hospital for poor little children who ^d no parents. And he went abort the city, night and day, picking up these helpless little crea- tures, whom he brought to his hospital, and gave them in charge to kind ladies, who staid there to take care of them. ST. YlVOmVT DS ^AUL. 146 5. Thus 70a see in the picture St Vincent going to his hospital, with one of these poor little infants in his arms. I suppose its parents had gone awaj and left it to die of hunger, for there were parents iken bad enongh to do that, and so there are stilL Well for those little ones whom St Vincent found; for they were well fed and clothed in his great hospital, until they were able to take care of themselves and earn their living, — and what was still better than that, they were taught to know and love God, and to serve Him better than their parents had done. 6. But St Vincent de Paul did more even than that, for the suffbring members of Christ^s body, which is the Churdi of God. I am sure all my young readers have heard of the Sisters of Charity. Well, before St Vincent's time, there were no Sisters of Charity. It was he that established that holy order of nuns for the service of the poor, and on that account he is called their father; and those sweet, kind, charitable sisters are called the Daughters of St Vincent de Paul 7. Now, let my dear young friends who read ' this story, think of it well, and they will see 146 BBGOND BBADBB. how much good can be done bj one person, even if he be poor and humble, provided he loves God and has compassion on (jod^s suffer- ing creature& What man was ever greater than St Vincent de Paul — ^the friend of the poor, the father of orphans, the faithful servant of God? •* \ <■» lESSON XLVII. ho-ly whis-per slum-ber some-thing an-gel kind-ly flow-er man-y nev-er naugh-ty keep-ing look-ing THE ANOBLS. MABT. 1. OISTER Emma, can you tell O Where the holy aagels dwell? Is it very, very hijgk, Up above the moon and sky ? Holy angek, sister dear, Dwell witJ» little children b«re, Every Hk^t and every day ; With the ^food they always stay. THE ANOSL8. 147 MART. 3. Yet I never see them come, Never know when they go home. Never hear them speak to me — Sister dear, how can it be ? 4 Mary, did you never hear Something whisper in your ear, ** Don't be naughty — ^never cry — Crod is looking from the sky !" KABT. 5. Yes, indeed i and it must be That's the way they talk to me ; Tlioi» are just the words they say, Many times in every day. 148 8E0OND READER. JCMwULa 6. And they kindly watch us, too, When the flowers are wet with dew ; When we are tired and go to sleep^ Angels then our slumbers keep. 7. Every night and every day, When we work and when we play, God^s good angels watch iis still, Keeping tis firom every ilL 8. When we're good, they are glad ; When we*re naughty, they are sad ; Should we very wicked grow. Then away from us they go. MART. 9. Oh ! I would not have them go, I do love the angels so ; I will never naughty be. So they'll always stay with me. ^■» de-cay-ing gath-er-ed bur-i-ed broth-ers lESSON XLVIII. hun-dred ex-plain maa-ter false-ly charg-ed pass-ed press-ed feign-ed cloth-ed wick-ed mer-chants pris-on JOSEPH AKD HI8 BBBTHBEV. AND the days of Abraham's life were a hun- dred and seventy-five years. And decay- ing, he died in a good old age; and having lived a long time and being full of days, he was gathered to his people. And Isaac and Ismael, his sons, buried him with Sara his wife, in the double cave which is over against Mam- bre, and which he bought of the children of HetL 2. And after his death, God blessed Isaac his son, who dwelt by the well of the " Living and the Seeing." Isaac was threescore years old when his tyin 160 SECOND READSB. Bona, Esau and Jacob, were born. Esaa grew up, and became a skilful hunter; but Jacob was a plain man, and dwelt in tentpw 3. Of the. twelve sons of Jacob, Joseph was dearer to him than any of the rest His broth- ers were grieved at it, and they hated him. One day their father sent him to them whei^ they were with their flocks in the field. \. When he came to them, they said, "Let us kill hint" But one of them, by name Reuben, said, " Do not take his life from him, nor shed his blood, but cast him into this pit** They then stripped him of his coat, and cast him into the pit, or well that was dry. 5. And when some merchants passed by that way, his brothers drew him out of the well, and they sold him to them. They brought him into Egypt, and there they sold him to a prince, to be his slave. 6. Joseph was a man that in all things did so well, that his master made him dwell in the house, and he was in great favor with him ; so far, that he was charged with the care of all things, and he ruled in the house. 7. When he had been there a while, his mas- ter's wife wished and pressed him to do a great rW JOSEPH AND HIS BBETHBXK. 151 crime ; bat Joseph was good, and feared Gk>d, and he would by no means comvent to do it **How can 1 commit a wicked thing/* said he, ^*and sin against my God? Na*' He then rushed from her. 8; She then charged him falselj with the crime, and he was cast into prison. When he had been there two ye?r the king sent for him to explain him his dre . Joseph explained them. 9. Then the king took his ring from his own hand, and gave it into the hand of Joseph. He clothed him with a silk robe, and put a chain of gold about his neck. He made all bow the knee to him, and told them he was to rule the whole land of Egjrpt t 10. Not long after, there was a dearth, or a great want of com. And Joseph had the care of all the com. Jacob, the father of Joseph, then sent his brothers to buy corn of him. 11. At first they did not know Joseph ; an I though he knew them, yet he feigned as if he did not know them, and he dealt with them as if they were spiea This he did to bring them, by degrees, to a sense of their fault, when, through envy, they sold him ; yet did Joseph love them. i 152 SECOND READBR. 12. He soon made himself known to them. He wept tlirough joy, kissed them, and forgave them. He then sent for his old father, who came to him. Joseph took care of him and his brothera They lived in those parts, and when Jacob was dead, Joseph bitried him in the place where he had desired to be bnried. \ N^ LESSON XLIX. green choose T^orld fade means sake choice which moss-y Ghris-tian Ed-die fel-low sor-row an-ger pa-tience wood-en THE OBOSS AKD THB VLOWSB. WHAT is little Eddie thinking of^ as he sits on that green, mossy bank, with the ciross in one hand and a pretty flower in the other ? 2. I suppose you do not know, so I will tell you. Eddie is thinking of what his dear mother told him the other day. She said every Chris- tian had to choose between the fleeting pleas- ures of this world, which fade and die away like the flowers of the field, and the cross of our Lord, which means patience in snfifering ^ THB GB06S AND THE FLOWER. 153 and denying one^s self what they like, for Christ'd dear ixJke. 3. So little Eddie has palled a flower ; and he is looking at it, and at the wooden cross in his other hand, and he is thinking — thinking of the choice wMch his mother said he most make. 4 I wonder which he will choose. Dear little fellow! he is young to make such a choice, bat not too yoang. Even little boyB like Eddie, and little girls too, can take the cross and bear f 154 8E00KD BSADBB. it after Christ That eans that they can bear pain and sorrow with patience, and never give give waj to anger. That is the waj to bear the cross, and I think little Eddie looka as if he would wish to do it ^•» in-no-cfence spe-cial ten-der-ness o-bli-ging LESSON, L ex-am-ple at-ten-tion fa-vor-ite in-ter-conrse in-creas-ed de-vo-tion pre-par-ing re-dou-bled N ST. ALOTSITTS. life can be more interesting than that of the amiable Saint Aloysius. His youth, his innocence, and purity of heart commend him in a special manner to the young. He is at once their model and their patron. 2. This illustrious Saint was born in the cas- tle of Gastiglione, in Italy, on the 9th day of March, 1568. The first words he was taught by his pious mother, so soon as he was able to speak, were the sweet names of Jesus and Mary, and the first action, that of making the sign of the cross. 3. Aloysins, even in his infancy, shoired a great tenderness for the poor; and so great was his devotion, that he would frequently hide himself iu some comer, and after a lon^ search he would .be found at his prajera 4. What an ez&mple.is^this for the young, and what a reproach his conduct is to those children who never tiiink of prayer ; who think nothing of morning and evening prayers, or si^^ them without attention, as if it were some hur- ried task they had to perform, ine^tead of a pleasing duty to God. 5. His father being general of the army in 166 BBCOND RBADBB. Lombardj, had intended to bring np Aloysins to the profession of arms; and, in order to give him an inclination to that state, gave him little guns and other warlike weapons. He used to take him with him to see the soldiers going through their exercises, and was much pleased to see him with a little pike in his hand, walk- ing before the ranka 6. The child was a great &vorite with the officers; and from his frequent intercourse with them, he had learned some unbecoming words, the meaning of which he was not tiien old enough to know. His moUier hearing him use them, chided him for it, and told him how offensive it was to God to BW6&r or use unbe- coming lang^age. . 7. From that moment Aloysius could never bear to be in the company of those who would profane the name of God, or use other improp- er language. The' offence he had committed, though excusable on account of his age, was to him during his whole life a subject of deep and bitter regret 8. With his age his fervor and piety increased. When he was only seven years old, he began to recite every day the office of Our Lady, the L ST. AL0TSIU8. 167 seven penitential psalms, and other prayen. Abont this time he was taken sick of an agne, from which* he did not recover for nearly eighteen months. Dnring his sickness, he edi- fied every one that came near him bj his piety, and the patience with which he bore it ; and during the whole time he never omitted the daily prayers which he had imposed on liimself 9. When he was about eight years of age, he was sent, with his younger brother, to the Court of the Grand Dnht of Tuscany, to study the Latin and Tuscan languages, and other branches suitable to his rank. ^Aloysius applied himself to his studies Urith the utmqst assiduity, o£fering them to God, and placing them under the protection of the Blessed Virgin. 10. His progress in his studies was great, but his progress in virtue was still greater. His devotion to the amiable Mother of God was tender and sincere. He would turn to her on all occasions, as his queen and patroness; chant her praises, and invoke her aid. Never was he tired of speaking of her great preroga- tives, and nothing pleased him more than to read those books which treated of her virtues. 11. But nothing could exceed the mildne» 168 eXCOKO BXADEB. of his disposition, and the kindness and affiibil- ity which he, at all times, manifested to his brother and companions. He was to them always obliging and condescending; even to the servants he never spoke bj 'way of com- mand. 12. Aloysius and his brother had remainedi about two years at Florence, when their father reihoved with them to Mantua. Here he con- tinued not only to practise every virtue, but to disengage himself more and more from the ties of the world. He seldom went abroad, and spent much of his time in reading the lives of the Saints, and other books of piety and devo- tion. He sometimes passed whole days in prayer and meditation. 13. He frequently visited the schools of the Christian doctrine, encouraged other boys, es- pecially the poor, to study their cateclusm, and often instructed them hinitelf He was then in his twelfth year, and was preparing to make his first communion. His devotion to the Holy Sacrament had always been great, but now it was redoubled. He heard mass as often as possible, and frequently, after the con- secration, melted into tear& f- v--' 14. It was his greatest delight to pm hoon in contemplation before the altty. fM morti- fications to which he subjected himaelf were extraordinary, especially in one of his tender years. He fasted three days in the week, and on Fridays tasted nothing but bread and water; and on other days his meals were so slender that his life seemed almost a miracle. 15. He secreily placed a board in his bed to rest on in the night, and rose at midnight to pray, even in the winter. He spent an hour after rising, and two hours before going to bed, in prayer. 16. Though these extraordinary acts of pen- ance and devotion are more than we can expect from our young readers, still they should try, even in their short prayers, to imitate the piety of the youthful Aloysiua • 17. They can imitate that mildness of dispo- sition for which he was always so remarkable ; and that love and affection which he always showed to his parents, and that ready obedience to their demands, and to those of his superiors, which he always rendered with so much willing- ness. Blessed St Aloysius ! pray for the youth of America that they may imitate thy virtues ! m < 'hi 160 SECOND READER. oen-tr6 pleas-ore pleaa-ant hum-blj watch-ful .LESSON LI. throng dwelt bath fiuth-ful bow dim for-sook tear call throne soul glare way-ward grow nigh A KIOHT PBATBB. own found joys wilt there 1. pREATGod! I call upon thy name, ^ And bow before thy throne, ^' Aniid the silent shades of night, ,^ Unwatcheid, unseen, alone! THE CROSS BY THE WAY-SIDS. 161 How oft, amidst the glare of day, When pleasure's throng was nigh^ I have forgotten that 1 moved Beneath thy watchful eye ! 2. Mine eyes haye dwelt on vanities Thy children should not see ; My feet forsook the pleasant paths That lead to Heaven, to Thee. I kneel and hnmbly own my sin, With many a tear and prayer ; My soul hath dwelt 'mid earthly joys. And found no pleasure ih&ce. Gath-0-lic beau-ti-ful re-demp-tion wan-der-ed LESSON III. con-fi-deaoe eam-est-ly pro-tec-tion ev-i-dence pros-per-ous con-duct-ed be-lov-ed in-di-CHt-ed THE GROSS BT THE WAY-SIDE. AMONG the most beautiful customs which prevail in Catholic countries, none is more striking, or gives greater evidence of the strong faith of the inhabitants, than that of erecting crosses by the way-side. f-^r Kt2 I BBADBR. % Along the public roads and mountain "paflsei the cross is planted, everywhere remind- ing man of the great event of his redemption. 3. When travellers pdss hj these crosses, they raise the hat, stand, or kneel before them, and offer up a short prayer that they may be shielded from danger in their journey, or that the business on which they are travelling may be pros|>erou& 4 Sometimes when persons have lost their way, the meeting with the cross inspires them with hope and confidence, because they know THB 0BO88 BT THB WAT-BIDX. 163 ountain remind- iption. crosses, >e them, may br or that ng may N3t their es them sy know it indicates a road which will condnat them to some human habitation. 5. We are told that two little ^Is once lost their way in a thick wood, and wandered about for hours without knowing how to find their way out At length they came to ah open space, where they found a cross standing. 6. With joyful hearts they threw themselves upon their knees; and clasping their hands, they earnestly besought our dear Lord to direct their steps, that they might find their way home. Then, after placing themselvesx under the pro- tection of their beloved Mother,, the Blessed Virgin, they arose, and takings an old road which seemed to be indicated by the cross, they soon arrived at the house of a friend, who conducted them to the home of their parents. bat-tie crea-ture child-like lon-ger thir-teen reach-ed LESSON LIII. beau-ti-ful he-ro-ic un-con-sciou8 per-ish-ed ex-plo-sion ad-mi-ral faith-ful frag-ment stream-ed wreath-ing pen-non chief-tain 164 BSOOND KEADBB. r»if OASABIAlrOA. Tottng rove ey t X lio'if skilfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads the wax\ And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makea 3. Iii works of labor or of ski]]^ I would be hnsj too ; ¥or Satan finds some miadiief still For idle hands to da 4. In books, or work, or harmless play, Let my first yelurs be passed, That I may give, for every day. Some good aooonnt at last ^»»i nar-row gar-ret sto-ries LISSON LYI. mn-M pov-er-ty WBUHom Ii07-er-ed vfiHeof bor-row-ed ea-si-ly glit-ter-ing 7E8US. LXTTM t^ f 9 IN a narrow street d#^ great father, with a smile ; ^* your question is just in season. But what are you gping to say in the letter ?" "Why, to bp^re, we mean to ask some pretty gifl^sj^r Christmas eve," " But,^aul, your little brothers cannot write." " Oh, BO matter; for thai, f&ih^ ; I will write the letter for tbem^ and I will put each one^s name at the bottom." 5. Th^e ' was stiU another di^culty. How was the lett^ to be s'^^; 173 fiBOOKD BKADBB. win be snre to find it** This was agreed to by all 6. So the letter was written, containing a liRt of all the pretty things which eaoh of the children had a mind to ask ; and when it was finished, Paul signed it for himself and his brothers, then sealed it, and threw it out on the roof, and the wind soon carried it out of sight 7. Hour after hour passed away, and there was uo answer to the important letter. The fire was dying out, the poor supper had been eaten, and the children sat shiTering together, watching and waiting, and beginning to feel quite disappointed. They did not like to say so, but they all feared that the Holy Infant had forgotten them. 8. All at once they heard a rustling as of silk, and a soft voice said, "Good evening!" There was a motion about the table — some- thing like the gleam of evening stars was visi- ble. All looked up in surprise, and there on the table was a pretty Christmas-tree, in the midst of a beautiful moss garden ; many wax- lights burned on the tree, and behind it stood the figure of an unknown lady, with bright and smiling eyes. She had just lit the tapers. I i ir LETTER TO THE INFANT JE8U8. 173 9. " Hurrah !" screamed the boys, while their parents looked on in silent amazement Down on the table fell with a rattle three little swords, as many guns, and a like aumber of pretty books, bound in green and f^old ; while on the floor stood three little wooden horses, with the prettiest saddles and bridles ever seen. There was also a nice little ring of bells for the baby. But the best of all was a hundred-dollar bill, which hung on the Christmas-tree. 10. Now you may imagine, children, the joy which filled the hearts of those poor people, and how thankful they were to the giver of those good thinga You understand, I am sure, how the matter was. That beautiful lady, who was very rich, had happened to find the chil- dren's letter, cmd so she thought she would do for them what she knew would be pleasing to the Holy Child of Bethlehem. *»■» in-clud-ed sen-ti-ment dil-i-gent-ly ju8-ti-fy-ing LESSON LVIL in-struct-ors re-main-der reiceiv-ing cor-re-spond-ence ex-act-ness in-con-sid-er-ate Au-re-li-us rep-ri-mands ■^ 174 SECOND READER. RESPECT ATXTj AFFECTION DUB FROK PUPILS TO THEIR TEACHERS. AN ancient aathor says that he has included almost all the datj of scholars in this one piece of advice which he gives them : — ^to love those who instruct them, as they love the sci- ^ences which they study; and to look upon them as fathers, from whom they derive not the life of the body, but that instruction which is in a manner the life of the soul. This senti- ment of affection and respect disposes them to apply diligently during the time of their studies; and preserves in their minds, during the remain- der of life, a tender gratitude towards their instructors. It seems to include a great part of what is to be expected from them. ' . 2. Docility, which consists in readily receiv- ing instructions, and reducing them to practice, is properly the virtue of scholars, as that of masters is to teach welL As it is not Sufficient for a laborer to sow the seed, unless the earth, after having opened its bosom to receive it, warms and moistens it ; so the whole fruit of instruction depends upon a good correspond- ence between masters and scholars. severe ( RESPECT AWD AFFECTION, ETC. 175 3. Gratitude towards those who have faith- fully labored in our education, is an essential virtue, and the mark of a good heart. "Of those who have been carefully instructed, who is there,*' says Cicero, "that is not delighted >vith the sight, and even the remembrance of his preceptors, and the very place where he was educated ?" 4. Seneca exhorte joong men to preserve always a great rapoct fof- their masters, to whose care they ttie indebted for the amend- ment of their fiit^ and for having imbibed sentiments of honor* (||c[ probity. Their exact- ness and severiij aam^noB displease, at an age when we are If0t in a condition to judge of the obligations we owe theni; biit whi^n years have ripened our understanding and judgment, we discern that admonitions, reprimands, and a severe exactness in restraining the passions of an imprudent and inconsiderate age, far from justifying dislike, demand our esteem and love. 5. Marcus Aurelius, one of the wisest and most illnstrious emperors that Rome ever had, thanked Heaven for two things especially; — for having had excellent tutors himself, and for having found the like blessing for his children. £_Mti 176 SECOND READER. smoe watch strength waste LESSON LVIII. sum grace sins known re-movo dark-neds par-don bod-y oom-forts mak-er morn-ing cheer-fill ^"^tv. '^^ i..Sfe^^^; AK BYBKIKO HTMIT. 1. A ND now another day is gone, ■^ VM sing my Maker's praise ; My comforts every hour make known His providence and grace. 2. But how my childhood runs to waste I My sins, how great their sum ! Lord I give me pardon for the past And strength for days to come. 3. I lay my body down to sleep ; Let angels guard my head, And through the hours of darkness keep Their watch around my be'd. 4 With cheerful heart I close my eyes, Since God will hot remove ; And in the morning let me rise, Rejoicing in His love. i^«» IBSSON IIX. dis-tin-guish-ed su-per-flu-i-ties lib-er-al-ly com-pas-sion so-li-ci-ta-tion im-prove-ment en-cour-a-ges <>d-t<^n-ta-tion em-bar-rass-ed be-nev-o-lence in-ge-nu-i-ty con-tent-ment VIRTUE AND HAPPINESS EQUALLY ATTAIN- AI«LE BY THE BIOH AND THE POOR. THE man to whom God has given riches, and blessed with a mind to employ them right, is peculiarly favored and highly distinguished. He looks on his wealth with pleasure, because it affordft him the means to do good. He pro- tects the poor that are injured ; he suffers not the mighty to ogress the weak. He seeks out objects of compMsion ; ho inquires into their 8<» \- 178 SBOOND RBADEB. wants; he relieves them with judgment, and without ostentation. 2. He assists and rewards merit ; he encour- ages ingenuity, and liberallj promotes every useful design. He carries on great works, his country is enriched, and the laborer is em- ployed; he forms new schemes, and the arts receive improvement He considers the super- fluities of his table as belonging to the poor of his neighborhood ; and he defrauds them not. The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his fortune; he rejoices, therefore, in riches, and his joy is blameless. 3. The virtuous poor man also may rejoice ; for he has many reasons. He sits down to his morsel in peace ; his table is not crowded with flatterers and devourers. He is not embarrassed with a train of dependants, nor .teased with the clamors of solicitation. Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he escapes also their dis- eases. The bread that he eats, is it not sweet to his taste? the water he drinks, is it not pleasant to his thirst ? yea, far more delicious than the richest draughts of the luxurious. 4. His labor preserves his health, and procures him repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is *"« ^«^^iir7li^^ 179 "om than aU the aToSl'' 7^*^' »" ''« «««dear. Let not Se ST "i '"^''' ""^ on his riches- nor ih. ^^''"'' P^^'^^ Tield to de^r^^'^n '" "^ ^'''^y' moun-tam se-cret ^ weep-ing some-hoi!^ ^ lESSON IX. non^wBse hap-pi-est •ome-thing Der™,-, *"*-t«-l7 ex-ceed-ing-J wept th« moft W to? Z ^^"''' '''"" ''^ 180 flE< IKADER. 3. You did not know Wilfred. He was one of those children, the very sight of whom makes old people young again. Somehow, even when he talked nonsense, he made you think of God and heaven. 11 4. There are many children who live more in the night than in the day. They are wise ! ajid old in their dreams by night, even when I tliey are light and careless in their games and Uisks by day. This was the case with Wilfred. THE WEEPIKO ANOEL. 181 6. He liad been sleeping for an hour, when he first saw the weeping angeL So he said to the angel : ** Angel ! may I call yon dear angel?" And the angel answered, " Yes ! for you are my little brother in" Jesu&*' Then Wilfred said, "Dear angel I why are you always Weeping .'" 6. And the angel answered. "My sweet Wilfred, our great and good God has some- thing which He loves exceedingly, and which He calls His glory. Now, all the world over, men are continually robbing Him of His glory, and doing wrong to Him. So I stand on thij mountain-top, all the year round, hundreds of years ; and I see all the cities of the world, and the inside of the houses, and even the inside of men's hearta This last I could not see, except by a special permission of God, 7. " Thus I see every thing that everybody docs. I hear every thing that everybody says. I know every thing that everybody thinks. And I join myself to every work, and word, and thought, on the great, huge earth, and add my love of God to it ; and I weep over what is wrong in it, and try to make up to God by my 182 SEOOND READER. tears for all the glory which men might give Him, but will not give Him. This is why I weep. 8. **And I weep always, becaase always, somewhere on the earth, wrong things are be- ! I ing done. And God loves my teax^ and Mary, our sinless queen, is always offering them up to Him. And all heaven sees me on my mountain- top, and they make songs about me there, and they love me exceedingly, and they call me Poor Earth's AngeL" I •^•^ ru-ms saint-ed miu-night LESSON IXI. ab-bey sun-light hal-low-ed tur-ret struc-ture de-part-ing mat-in dear-er moul-der-ing BUIKS. 1. "DEHOLD those abbey Tails, so gray I ^ Oh I where's yon turret's chime ? Songs of the blessed, where are they. That swelled in olden time ? Where are those hallowed choirs at even ? That matin music — where Those hymns that once were sung to Heaven? Now angels sing them there. *«••- U i. 1|^ BUIN8. 183 3. The sunlight of departing eve, The moonbeam glancing through The broken arches^ teach to grieve For hearts long broken too ; As o*er yon momldering structure hangs That wreath the irj makes, Thus round the heart shall memory's pangs Cling, dearer while it breaks. 3. The green tree o*er the altar bends, The long grass sweeps the wall ; Deeply her sigh the midnight sends Along the chancel halL Of sainted memories, calm and bright, No legend needs to tell ; For story's pen mnst fail to write What ruins paint so well ' <■» LESSON IXII. Se-baa-tian im-pet-uos-i-ty se-ver-i-ty un-cov-er-ing thnn-der-stmck em-bold-en-ed sor-row-ful-ly ad-mi-rartion gen-tle-men BEBA8TIAK OOMBZ. AS soon as Sebastian felt he was alone, he leaped for joy ; bat, the next moment, re- membering his master's words, he said sorrow- fully, " Oh, my sad fortune! twenty-five lashes, if I don't tell ; and thirty, if there are no new figures ; twenty-five lashes, perhaps, when they come to know who draws them. Poor slave, it was all a dream. I must blot it out, and never let it happen again. Oh ! I feel sleepy," added he, yawning ; " let me say my prayers : who ki all this 2. S served out wit in the side of roof of in that the lit o'clock 3. " forcing his arm repeate before "< • self; th profit l it will I Courag< is not n 4 A Ribero'i us wash pencil f the hes SEBASTIAN GOMEZ. 186 who knows, a good Grod may bring me out of all this trouble.** 2. Sebastian knelt down on the mat that served him aa a bed at night ; but soon, worn out with the fatigues of the day, he fell asleep in the midst of his prayers; and having the side of one of the pillars which supported the roof of the studio to lean against, he remained in that position until the dawn. The clock of the little cloister of St Francis rung three o'clock before Sebastian awoke. 3. " Up, up, lazy fellow!" said he to himself, forcing his eyes to keep open, and stretching his arms until the joints cracked; and again he repeated, " Up, lad, you have three hours yet before you ; three hours that belong to your- self; three hours that you are your own master ; profit by them, poor slave. When they come, it wiU be time enough to take your chain again. Courage ! do what you like for three hours ; it is not much." 4. And now, wide awake, the boy went to Ribero's canvas. "First of all," said he, "let us wash out all these faces." And he took a pencil and dipped it in oil Then, uncovering the head of the Virgin, to which the gentle 186 SBOOMD RBADBB. fr light of dawn lent an aspect still more soft and delicate than before — *'Let us put out t^' . Efface it!" he said, smiling at the delicio j image he had created; "efface it! — they did not dare to do it with all their sarcasnL Well, shall I have more courage ? No, no ; I would rather be beaten, if it must be so — ^but thia head Uves, it breaUiea K I were to efface it, it would be a murder — ^no, we'll finish it!" 5. At these words, Sebastian seized his brushes and palette, and set to work. *• Aiter all," adde work wh^ no one knew. 4i# (^ You must halve giveE deep, attention to all 017 words, cultivated an immense memory in order to remember them, and devoted jour- F^if to rare application My boy, allVithis de- serves a rewMrd, afied not a punshmeni What shoidd you like r 5; Sebi«tia& knew not If ke were asleep or awftke : hia eyed wanckred tttim ihe aj^roving hce of his iQiister, to the sowing visages of the piqdili; iBadlil pressectoadhaadnilhthe other to assifftf bjnuidf he was not in # aa, 6/ '^Cdme^ Sebifl^liii, cKmiagte^l'^ whkpered Ribero; **the master is pkused with you; ask for a mce dueat a new one-^-I wager the nguor won't refusal" "Onel" cried Raba; "askHen.'* ^^TweK^r* coried Ga^fwrd; *^I know my ftfther, he will give ^em.'' ' 7. *^Tott make vesry free with my poxBe, my iOfi} but I shall not ooatnidlet you-^ninr you diher, giMiflemen,*'' said Iteiikv imiUng. •very one m- apeakiDg but •t .MariaaWWMM mmUmtl^ ASBA8TIAK OOMXZ. €91 gave lep of work on to moiy your- is de* Wiat sp or oving >f the ot^er pered ; ask iguor r iny •, my r you liling. BT bat : yourself^ and it is to yon I pat the qaestioii, my child," added the great artist, atteatiyely scratinizing Sebastian, who appeared anmoved by these words of the papils; **are theie rewards not enough ? Bat speak then, my lad. 8. *' I am so pleased with yoor oompo&tion, yoar light and d^ca^ touch, yoor colorings— this hea4 ^ ^% of which the drawmg might be more oorreet, bat to whidi joa hare given an ezpresdoB of soch c^estial divMty, and which yoar peoeil alone has created. I am so pleas^ that I aai ready to gire yoa any thing yoa ask-Hill that is in my power ; that is — '' 9. ^O maflii^, master!^ — ^uo, I dare not'^ And Sebastiaa, who had fUlea on his koeea at his master's feet, jdned Ms hands together in an attitacb of sapplication, , On the open lips of the boy, in h» expressiTe eyes^ on his noble forehead, might be read an intens^^ deyooring thought, that tiilddity alone prevented his giv- ing utterance to, bat whidi swelled in every vein, and died away on his pale, trembling lip& JLO. "What a fooll** cried Gaspard; "my &r ther tells you to speak." " %>eak, then," said another ; " ask for gold." No, ask for some handsome dresses^ Sebas- «i mJ i9i 8SOOND tian ; jon are tall, slight, and well built — they will be becoming.*'^ " I gaeas," said Ribero, " I gueas whit It ia Sebastian wants to be admitted as a papil rf among os. M J(4%3:. 11. Sebasi "If ^'A said € among Seb "» 12i IS ma Ac of joy "01 be, in asked. 13. pressii "M; "Yi Murill as he] Av< the stc saw ol< -they it la papH 8BBA8TIAK GOMEZ. 193 11. A flush of joj passed over the face of Sebastian. ^ \ ''If it be that, ask it, my la^** said Mnrilla -' And ask, too, the best place ne»\r the light,** said Gonsalves, whose easel was badly placed, among the last in the studio. '' WeH, is it thatf* asked MuxiQo. Seba^iaa shook his head. " Ik) r add Manila 1% *^S^>astiaii," cfied Qaspard, "my &ther is in a giring humor to-day: Bsk your freedom." A cry burst from the lip^o^ SebastiaQ, a cry of joy---H>f paiiir--!fl|ma6t of grief ^ " Oh, freedom, free%>m for my Mber !*' cried he, in a voice choked by tears and sobs. " And yours— do yott not desire your own ?" asked JMlb. 13. Sebastian hung down his head, and sup- pressing a sob, answered : " My &ther*s fost, signer." '' Yes, my poor child ; and youra also,** said Murillo, no longer able lo^ restrain his feelings, as he raised and embraced Sebastian. A voice of weeping was heard in the comer of the studio ; all turned their eyes towards it, and saw old Gomez crying and sobbing like a ohUd. m0^0^^m^m^0*^K^^^^m m0^ 14. '*Thon art free, GomeW atid Mnollo, giying him his hand. ^^Free to serve jou aU mj lifoi master/* re- plied Gomes, falling on hia knees and kissing has Biaater^s hand. **0h, my master, my good maaterl^ wag all diat Sebastiaa's feelings enalded him to utter. 16. "Sebastian," said MnnUo, tor^Sng to- wards the yomth, " your pencil has proved you to have geniua; your request has proved you to possess a noble heart From iiaa day I admowledge you to be aa artist indeed, and receive you among my pu n 'fc-l < m*m ■'* 2. LESSON IXIV. OBATITUBB TO THB SITPBXllil ^BIITO. HOW cheerful along the gay mead» The daisy and cowslip appear ! The flocks, as they carelessly feed^ .Bcgoice in the spring of tiifiyear. The myrtles that aliade the gaf bowos^ The herbage that sfuings from i^ sod^ Trees, plaat%€OolingfruitBt aaBdaweetfl^werSy All listyto the praise of n^ Cbd^ J T9X SISOBBDIXITT BOT. lift %. ShaU man, the great master q£ all, Tlie Only insensible prove? ForUd it^ fidr Gratitade*a call ! Forbid it^ devotioa and love I 4 The Lord, who snch wonders ooidd raise, And still can destroy with a nod, My lips dial! incessanify pndse; My heart shall rejoice in my God. mm0» s iissoir MT. chas-ttse^meni l^mp-tartidii Htir-fimnd'liiid re-memrto^ tedlE^-tloa VM^>-pear^ con-qner-^ ii!aiMi&^ pemkei^^mSsm ira« maoisBixiTT B^ir« EE^ thenr k B^e Edward WUiaxm taken from the water bjr his great dog, Ponta I won- der is he dead, poi^ little Mowl No, he is notdead. lamgladofit; and I am ssare yo« are, toa % Bui da yon know that little Edward de*> served snch a chastiBeB^nt,^^ even if he h^ been drowned P-^-^^nd I will teQ yon why. His moth^ had often told him not to ]^y oeir the waterside, or to go bathing with other boyft MtBM SBOOVO BBADXB. 3. For some time Edward aroided tbe wi^er, in obedience to his mother; but one day he was running a race with Ponto^ not &r from ^e river's bank, and what should he see but a young moor-hen, diring down into the long, sedgy grass, not many yards from where he stood. ''There,** thought he, ''is a nest worth l^^nng;* i 4 Biward's first thought was to run and seize the moor-fowFs nest; but all at onoe he remembered his mover's injunction, and the tears came into his eye9. "It iift^^ very hard,** saipl he to himself^ " that a fellow caimot go and get tlill nest, when there is no danger — none ki the world*** -* 6. l!dwaTd*s obediende^ was not wortii much, y;ri riikTTiV^^mm '.,^ '"" K tUM DIBOBBDIXITT BOT. 19T then; for when a hay at girl begins to find fiuih with the commands of {Murents or teachers, thej are half conquered by the tempter. Now it so happened that while Edward sCbod, with a dondj brow, eyeing the spot which contained the supposed treasure, the moor-hen started up once more full in his view^ and flew awaj orer the broad riyer. 6. At the sights all Edward*s resolution van- ished. He yielded at once to the temptation. " There she goesp he shouted, in ecstasy, **and I have nothing to do but reach down and lay my hand on ft^.ijppg diickens^ snd then — won't I have soinetting worth diowing at homer 7. Away went Edwftrd towards the river, and away went $bntp after him, through the long, dewy gam, Th» spot was gained, but Edward fi>und that to secure his prize was not so easy. Between it and him was a narrow channdi of the river, a yard or so in w;jdth ; for the nest was on a tiny islet but in the water. a ''It is unlucky,** said Edward; ''but no matto* — I can easily jump across. I have often IjunqMd ftr&er than that Gome, Ponto, my boy I Ibfiow me.** I II I iHi a l M ■>i» ■ jm ■SOOHD BBAMB. Edward jumped; bat the distance iras greater than he thought, and instead of jnmphig oathe islet, he fell spheh into the wftter, with a cry of terror. But his cries would havre heem of little airail, had it not been for his fidtibM dog, fWho, being of the Newfonn^and. bfeed, was both large and strong;^ sad well accustomed to the water. ? \\ 9. Leapnig into .^e water after his little master, who had alreadjr sunk, the noble animal soon reappeared on the snr&ce, holding the lit- tie boy by the flap of his jacket Yon may imagine how thankfiil ildward was for his preservation, and how sincefety he prom- ised neyer again to disobey his parents in any thing. <■» lESSON IXTL AOKirOWLXBOMXHT OF DIVtHS VATOBS. 1. WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad »* How many poor I see^I^ What shall I render to my God, Fdr all His gifts to me! 2. Nc^ more thaa otheis I desenr% Yet ^ji^Uiiitt given me more; mmm::s3st mm ▲OKKOWLBDOKSKT, STO. 199 i! For I hftTe food, while others starve, Or beg from door to door. 3. How many childreD in the street, Halfnaked, I behold! While I am clothed from head to feet> And ooyered from the cold. 4 While some poor crieatares scarce can tell Where ^ej may lay their head» I have a home wherein to dw^ Jjjd resli i^n my bed. e others early learn to swear, And corse, and lie, and steal, Lord 1 I am taoght Thy name to fear, Antf do Thy holy will 6. Are these Thy filters day by day. To me above the restf Then let me love Thee more than they, And try to serve Thee best! -^•^ LESSON LXYII. pnn-cess dangh-ter Eng-land bos4>m vir-tn-ons Ksth-e*rine comi^-lors oar-di-nals ref-or-ma-tion ao-cus-tom-ed al-to-geth-er ad-mi-ra-ble L*! 200 ^t^/l^ryv»^ SBGOITD BSADKB. «^. THE VIBTVOVS QUBBV. DO you know, little children, what this pio- ture means? I do not think jou can, un* less you are told; so I will tell yon. About three hundred years ago, there was a king of England, Henry the Eighth, wl|o had a fair and virtuous wife, named Katherine. She had been the mother of a family of childi:en, but only one THX TIBTfrOVS QUXSK. 201 of them remained, a daughter, who was called the Princess Mary. 2. For a long time the good queen and her husband lived happily together; but there came a day when bad companions brought the king to sin and shame, and then he began to hate his virtuous wife, and wished to put her away from him altogether, to please some of his wicked counsellors, who hated the innocent queen a§d her, daughter. 3. lj|ly of the king^s faithful friends sought to persuade hiuLagainst doing this cruel wrong, but he would not listen to them ; and he sent the two cardinals whom you see in the picture, to tell the queen Ijbiat she must leave his house, and not even take her daughter with her. 4 It was a hard sentence for so good a wife and so good a mother, and she felt as if her heart was breaking. But, like all true Chris- tians, Queen Katherine was accustomed to pour her sorrows into the bosom of our merciful Saviour ; and there you see her kneeling before the crucifix, and asking God for strength to bear that heavy load of grief She prays, too, for her unhappy husband, that his eyes may be opened to the error of his ways. And ikm car- ^2 BBOOKD READER. n cBnals are sajing to each other, "What an ad- mirable lesson in patience and forgiTeness of * * * 111 injuries! 5. When you are older ^on will know all about Queen Katherine. Her story is a yery long and a very sad one, and you will like to read it in the history of England. Tou will read, too, how her wicked husband Rebelled against the Pope, because he would not consent to his cruel treatment of his queen ; jpd how he made himself a pope, and begiflpwhat is called the Reformation. These and many other nice stories you can read in history; so you must make haste, and learn to read weH •^•^ LESSON IIVIII. 0B2ATI0N AlTD PBOYIDSKOE. L T SING th' almighty power of God, ■- That made the mountains rise ; That spread the flowing seas abroad, And built the lofty skiee^ ^ 2. I sing the wisdom that ordained The sun to rule the day : The moon shines full at His command, And all the stars obey. r-^ OBBATIOV AKD PBOTIDXNOB. 203 3. I sing the goodness of the Jjord, That Med the earth with food: He formed the creatures with His word^ And thon pronounced them good. 4 Lord! how Thj wonders are ^Bsplayed, Wherever I turn mine eye ; If I sarvej the gronnd I tread, Or gaze upon the sky I 6. There's not a plant or flower below^ ^ut makes Thy glories known; And clouds arise and tempests blow^ By ordei £rom Thy throna 6. Creatures* (as numerous as they l>e) Are subject to Thy care; There's not a place where we can fiee^ But Gol is present there. 7. In heaven He shines with beams of lore; With wrath in hell beneath I 'Tis on His earth I stand or mo^e» And 'tis His air I breathe. 8. His hand is my perpetual guard; He keeps me with His eye : Why should I then forget the Lord^ Who is forever nigh ? >kw- % 204 BBOOITD BBADBB. LESSON LXIX. fright-en-ed val-u-ed dia-o-be-di^ence traDfr-gress-ing Ghi-na-ware or-na>ment8 con-tra-rj pa-go-da xnis-er-a-ble nn-for-ta-nate cen-tre-ta-ble coni'mand-ments WHAT IT Ze TO HAYB A BAD OOITSOIENOE. WHAT a miserable thing it k to have a bad conscience! Onlj see how frightened those two yoang sisters are, beoanse llpr good mamma has come into their plaj-room. And why is tliatt- 2. W%, because their consdence tells them that they have been doing wrong, and trans- gressing their mother's commands. She had often told them that they must not take any thing to play ^th, except their own toys; and, above all, life they must not meddle with any of her little China ornaments., 3. Well, what do you think the naughty girls have been doing? Theirs mother went out to market, and in they went to the parlor, and took some nice little pieces of China-ware off the centre^table, and had them in their play. You will not be surprised to hear that they have whicl was { dead. 4 ' that < prettj wish. A BAD OONSOXEirOE. 205 have broken one of them-— « Chinese pagoda, which their mother valued very highly, for it was given her by a beloved sister, long since dead. 4 The children knew this very well, and yet that did not prevent them from taking the pretty toy, contrary to their moiher^s express wisL Now, when it is too late, they ire sorry ' t" 306 8I00ND RIADBB. for their &,iilt ; they know they have deserred pnnishmeiit, which their mother is sore to give when she finds them out — ^for she never over- looks or forgives a positive act of disobedience. 5. To do them justice, they are sorry, too, for having broken the keepsake of their Aunt lime, whidi their mother had treasured for many a long year ; and they do feel w;retched. You see they are tiying to keep between their mother and the doll's house, wherein the frag- ments are concealed. 6. ^^r children! the trifling pleasure they had &r a moment in plajdng with the little temple, k already followed by the torment of remcfse and shame, uid the fear of punishment And io it is, children, with every act of disobe- dience, whether it be against the oommand.- ments €^'€k>d, your parents, or your teachers. 7. Eliza and Fanny would give all the toys they have, and many more if they had them, to see the unfortunate pagoda safe back on the centre-table ; but, alas I their sorrow is now of no avail: it cannot repair the mischjief they have done. It may be, however, that this severe lesson may cure them of their disobe- dience. I am sure I hope it will . THB VALL OF THX LXAF. WI serred give r over- iience. jT, too, r Aunt ed for itched. 1 their ) frag- 3 they i little ent of iment tisobe- inand- hers. 9 toys enif to m the low of they this lisobe- t LESSON IXX. . THX FALL OF THX LXAF. 1. QEE the leaves around us falling, ^ Dry and withered, to the ground^ Thus to thoughtless mortals calling. In a sad and solemn sound : 2. *^ Sons of Adam (once in lEden^ ^ When like us he blighted fell). Hear the lecture we are reading ; 'Tis, alas I the truth we tell. 3. "Virgins, niuch, too muchi|>resuming On your boasted white and red, Yiew us, late in beauty blooming. Numbered now among the dead I 4 " Youths, though yet no losses grieve you, €lay in health, and many a grace. Let not cloudless skies deceive you ; Summer gives to autumn place. 5. "Yearly in our course returning, Messengers of shortest stay ; Thus we preach this truth concemio|^. Heaven and earth shall pass away. -i .. 208 BBOOND BKADBB. 6. ^ On the Tree of Life etenxal, Man, let all thy hopes be staid ; Which alone, forever vernal, Bears a leaf that shall not fisd&** ^•^^ LESSON LXXI. at-ten-tioin nat-n-ral lash-es fra^^nce gath-ep^ good-na-tnre ciill-ed Mar-tha ez-pseiHdon trath-fol-ness pleaa-ed lil-ly LITTLE HAaOIB. HAT a nice little girl Maggie Lyons is! She is very pretty, *as you may see in the picture ; her hair hangs in natural carls about her &ce, and her sweet blue eyes look out through their long lashes with such an expres- sion of truthfulness and good-nature that you cannot help loving her. And Maggie Lyons is a good little girl — just as good as she looks. 2. She has been to the garden to cull flowers, and just see what a Sice nose-gay^ she has got I What do you think she will do with it? I suppose she means to give it. to some of her little friends — to Martha Qreen, perhaps, or Lilly Wella LITTLX XAOOIB. 20d 3. No such thing. Much as Maggie loves her 3roiing oompanions, it is not for any of them she has gaithered those flowera Her dear motheHfllbk, 3bA cannot leave her ro%n, and she loves the fridi fragrance of the flow- ers, for she says it doeA her good: so little Mag gie has cnUed Ihose flowers for her. She intends to put them in a vase on her mother's table, before die is np; and she is jnst think- ing how pleased that dear, kind mollier will be by this little mark of attention from her. Dp you not love pretty Maggie Lyons? •m tm haib-let na-tive dis-tanoe ii LESSOK LXIII. live-ly ^ ia-nn-mer-arble spiight-ly nn-for-ta-nate*)y hand-some tem-per-a-ment ,'.**• LITTLE JOSEPH. ^I^HE young Savoyard, or Little Joseph, as he -L k more frpqaendy called, was bom in a hamlet on the side of Mount Cenis. His parents were also natives of the same village, which was some distance np th/ sid^^f that well- known monntain. ^ 2. jQieph was their odly child — a lively, joyoiflfty, sprightly as the kid of his Alpine home. He was jnst ten y^rs of age when we became acquainted with tne family. Joseph had inherited the handsome figure of his father, and the gentle disposition and loving heart of his mother. 3. Anna — that was his mothe|'*s name — a fidthM Catholic — zealously sought to form her darling's young mind according to the true spirit of the Church. She taught him to check sll inclination to anger or disobedience in its very germ, and encouraged the growth of all the virtues peculiar to his ardent temperament 4 So docile was he by the timie^ he had at- tained his tenth. jear, that he might be com- pared to the lambs, with which he loved to play. His parents* honse, the Alps, and his fiither^s little flock were his world; and beyond a congregation of aboat three hundred persona, who aasembled on Sundays and holydays im the chnrch, he did not know a sooL 6. He was totally ignorant of the bnstle of the worlds and equally nnoonscioiis of its sin and vice. Hu ffil heart was free from those passions which nnfoftapately agitate the breasts of many other children^ and drive then^it too early out of the paradise of innocenc^jjjjp €. Joseph, unlike those children whose innu- merable desires can never be satisfied, djenshed but one— to be pleasing to God and give joy to hisparenta. And «. eameaUy did he strive for this, that it might be truly said of him,.h» had found &vor before God and man. -.<^-- field bright brow LESSON LIXIII. rein-deer re-gion paft-ture hu-man ver-dure re-past THS BXIKDSXB. speed-ing coun-try scaroe-ly REIN^EEfl, not in fields like ours, Full (tf grass and bright with flowen; Not in pastmre dales, where gBifte m: jpLi>uud/liA/VA ^A1 212 SSOOVB BSADXB. £ver-flowiDg rivers wide ; Not on hilk, where verdure bright Clothes them to the topmost height, Hast thou dwelling ; nor dost thou Feed upon the orange-bough ; Nor doth olive, nor doth vine, Bud and bloom in land of thine. \f/l^ 2. I^thy home and dwelling are In a region Ueak and bare ; In a dreary land of snow, Where green weeds can scarcely grow ; Where the skies are gray and dreftf ; Where *tis night for half the yeai ■; "^ Reindeer, where, unldss for t^iee, HuTWtn dweller could not be. 5» Set vmg long and serving hard, .Aj^Jrlsi t^' but a ^cant reward ; ^; Of the snow a short repast, Or the mosses cropped in haste. Reindeer, away I with all thy str ogth. ^p-?eding o^er the country's length ; b^aeding onward like the wind, With the sliding sledge behind. ^■» LESSON LXIIV. 1 • ' -"^E OONPESSION. ||| I DO not tiiow why it is that so many little girls and boys have a horror of going to confession. Sbrely, they most forget that con- fession is like the plank thrown into the sea to the drowning m&riner, — that it is the oni^ means whereby we can obtain forgivenest of the sins committed after baptism. 2. If onr dear Lord and Savioiir had not established this sacrament in His great compaf- Sioi for us, I do not know what we should have done, Now, I once heard of a little girl who was so dreadfully afraid of going to confession, that she ^te fainted away when she found herself in the confessional On the next page is a picture of her, with her sister by her side, trying to encourage her. ;>pif^^^^ 214 SXOOITD BBADBB. 3. Do you know why that Jittle girl was so horrili^d at the thought of confession ? Why, because kar father and motherhad been so negligent of^eir duty, as to allow their chil- dren to ^gtdSw^ to the age of ten or twelve years before they sent them to confession. If they had been sent earlier, they would have Jbad op 9iich dread of confessing their sina. Ht N \ 80 BO Ive If THE OOlTFBSSIOir. 215 i. If yoQ ask one of these silly little people why they are so much afraid; ;the ansinier will, perhfiDs, be: " Why, how can 11M myosins to the ipAmt ? Who knows: but he -^jflf^ 4f!^ of them t^mebody ek^^" ^^x Foolisli^ittle girl er boy t^Jiave yoQ -^fim heard that|^e of tW saints sufi^re^ martyrdofii rather than %veal what^ha^ been ^Id him in confeaijion ? wicked, emperor, who suspected his a great ofime, wisJhed to have h^r con- tell wh^ther,^e was^^uiky or not' put inlrreplied thjtt no pfiest could spea^ to anyone of what was told l\jm in confessidql^ and thavhe could not qvmi tell whether the ei^press wwinaocent ojr not \ } / Hearing this, the tyrant w^ so enraged that hejbrdered the holy mtin to be thrown into the Id aw, which was the name of the sea near palace. It was done accordingly, and the od St. John Nepomucine went cheerfully to ath rather than disclose the secret of confes- And so it is to-day. The ministers ap- ion. >inted by Jesus Christ to tfXKmcile the sinner ith Him, are never known, never have been lown, to tell what they heit ti cobMHoil ifv ^: ^■" >*■*•■«)>■ 1 1 1 i M»ij" 'i l ii ' ( |i )i T^ SXCOVO ]||f^l>M4' «■ 1 ili»i M ^^' LESSON LXXY. f§B TBUTSFlfXi BOl ^N€9| ttoe wiA a Utile boy, lA m^ hdr and pleaeaiti •^ boy who dkn^ loved .1 j|iid never, never told f 2L km when he skipped aw9||p The chiMren all about '* Tkmte goes the carly-]^^( 1^ boy who never |bld ^' An^evprybody loved him % Bf0i«M!eh»alw|y8 told th» troth; And ot^ as he ^der grcw^ . TVasH^d: "There goes the honeiiyc 4 AM when th%people, standing near, l^oxM turn to ask tike reason n^, \ The iinswer woold be always this : "^Kiause he ne^ tdd a lie."* 5. Learn, little boys, from this brave lad, Like Bm, to i^>eak the candid tnHil ; That all may my of yon the same: >i8Wliw»wiW i i WJ iii'i " i i i|iil ii i i » >« [' iii »,i l |" mtimtHmmm i j ' 1 1 ni l t tmmmm' m r i *r-. 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