NRLF 
 
 
 Mts.HB.STOWE 
 
 I 
 

OT7K CHARLIE. 
 
OUR CHARLEY, 
 
 AND 
 
 WHAT TO DO WITH HIM 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. H. B. STOWE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & COMPANY. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 KLECTROTYPKI) AT THB 
 BOSTON STEEEOTYI B FOUNJDliV. 
 
PS 
 
 oe 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Pago 
 
 OUR CHARLEY, 7 
 
 WHAT IS TO BE DONE WITH OUR CHARLEY ? 17 
 
 THE HAPPY CHILD, 27 
 
 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY,. . 40 
 
 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM, 61 
 
 TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK, 79 
 
 FAIRY TALES, 85 
 
 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS 94 
 
OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 WHEN the blaze of the wood fire flickers 
 up and down in our snug evening parlor, 
 there dances upon the wall a little shadow 
 with a pug nose, a domestic household 
 shadow a busy shadow a little rest- 
 less specimen of perpetual motion, and 
 the owner thereof is " Our Charley? 
 
 Now, we should not write about him 
 and his ways, if he were strictly a peculiar 
 and individual existence of our own home 
 circle ; but it is not so. " Our Charley " 
 exists in a thousand, nay, a million fam 
 ilies ; he has existed in millions in all 
 time back ; his name is variously ren 
 dered in all the tongues of the earth ; 
 nay, there are a thousand synonymes for 
 him in English for indisputably "our 
 
 (7) 
 
8 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 "Willie," or "our Harry," or "our Georgie," 
 belongs to the same snub-nosed, rosy- 
 cheeked, restless shadow-maker. So in 
 France, he is "Leonce," or "Pierre," as 
 well as "Charle;" in Italy, he is "Car- 
 lino" or "Francisco;" in Germany, "Max" 
 or "Wilhelm;" and in China, he is little 
 " Ling-Fung," with a long silk tail on the 
 back of his head, but the same household 
 sprite among them all ; in short, we take 
 "our Charley" in a generic sense, and we 
 mean to treat of him as a miniature epit 
 ome of the grown man enacting in a 
 shadowy ballet by the fireside all that 
 men act in earnest in after-life. He is a 
 looking glass for grown people, in which 
 they may see how certain things become 
 them in which they may sometimes 
 even see streaks and gleamings of some 
 thing wiser than all the harsh conflict of 
 life teaches them. 
 
 "Our Charley" is generally considered 
 by the world as an idle little dog, whose 
 pursuits, being very inconsequent, may 
 
OUR CHARLEY. U 
 
 be put off or put by for every and any 
 body; but the world, as usual, is very 
 much mistaken. No man is more pressed 
 with business, and needs more prudence, 
 energy, tact, and courage to carry out his 
 schemes, in face of all the opposing cir 
 cumstances that grown people constantly 
 throw in his way. 
 
 Has he not ships to build and to sail? 
 and has he not vast engineerings to 
 make ponds and clocks in every puddle 
 or brook, where they shall lie at an 
 chor? Is not his pocket stuffed with 
 material for sails and cordage ? And 
 yet, like a man of the world as he is, all 
 this does not content him, but he must 
 own railroad stock too. If he lives where 
 a steam whistle has vibrated, it has awa 
 kened an unquiet yearning within him, 
 and some day he harnesses all the chairs 
 into a train, and makes a locomotive of 
 your work table and a steam whistle of 
 himself. He inspects toy-shop windows, 
 gets up flirtations with benevolent shop- 
 
10 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 men ; and when he gets his mouth close 
 to papa s ear, reveals to him how Mr. So- 
 and-so has a locomotive that will wind up 
 and go alone so cheap too can t papa 
 get it far him? And so papa (all papas 
 do) goes soberly down and buys it, though 
 he knows it will be broken in a week. 
 
 Then what raptures ! The dear lo 
 comotive ! the darling black chimney 
 sleeps under his pillow that he may 
 feel of it in the night, and be sure 
 when he first wakes that the joy is not 
 evaporated. He bores every body to 
 death with it as artlessly as grown people 
 do with their hobbies; but at last the 
 ardor runs out. His darling is found to 
 have faults. He picks it to pieces to 
 make it work better ; finds too late that 
 he can t put it together again ; and so 
 he casts it aside, and makes a locomotive 
 out of a broken wheelbarrow and some 
 barrel staves. 
 
 Do you, my brother, or grown-up sister, 
 ever do any thing like this ? Do your 
 
OUR CHARLEY. 11 
 
 friendships and loves ever go the course 
 of our Charley s toy ? First, enthusiasm ; 
 second, satiety; third, discontent; then 
 picking to pieces ; then dropping and 
 losing ! How many idols are in your 
 box of by-gone playthings? And may 
 it not be as well to suggest to you, 
 when you find flaws in your next one, 
 to inquire before you pick to pieces, 
 whether you can put together again, or 
 whether what you call defect is not a part 
 of its nature ? A tin locomotive won t 
 draw a string of parlor chairs, by any 
 possible alteration, but it may be very 
 pretty for all it was made for. Charley 
 and you might both learn something 
 from this. 
 
 Charley s business career, as we have 
 before intimated, has its trials. It is 
 hard for him to find time for it ; so many 
 impertinent interruptions. For instance, 
 there are four hours of school, taken out 
 of the best part of the day ; four mortal 
 hours, in which he might make ships, or 
 
12 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 build dams, or run railroad cars, he is 
 obliged to leave all his affairs, often in 
 very precarious situations, and go through 
 the useless ceremony of reading and spell 
 ing. When he comes home, the house 
 maid has swept his foremast into the fire, 
 and mamma has put his top-sails into the 
 rag bag, and all his affairs are in a des 
 perate situation. Sometimes he gets ter 
 ribly misanthropic ; all grown people seem 
 conspiring against him ; he is called away 
 from his serious avocations so often, and 
 his attention distracted with such irrele 
 vant matters, that he is indignant. He 
 is rushing through the passage in hot 
 haste, hands full of nails, strings, and 
 twine, and Mary seizes him and wants to 
 brush his hair ; he is interrupted in a 
 burst of enthusiasm, and told to wash his 
 hands for dinner! or perhaps, a greater 
 horror than all, company is expected, and 
 he must put on a clean new suit, just as 
 he has made all the arrangements for a 
 ship-launching down by the swamp. This 
 
OUR CHARLEY. 13 
 
 dressing and washing he regards with un 
 utterable contempt and disgust ; secretly, 
 too, he is sceptical about the advantages 
 of going to school and learning to read ; 
 he believes, to be sure, when papa and 
 mamma tell him of unknown future ad 
 vantages to come when he is a "great 
 man;" but then, the present he is sure 
 of; his ships and sloops, his bits of string 
 and fish-hooks, and old corks and bro 
 ken railroad-cars, and above all, his new 
 skates ; these are realities. And he knows 
 also what Tom White and Bill Smith say ; 
 and so he walks by sight more than by 
 faith. 
 
 Ah, the child is father of the man c . 
 When he gets older he will have the 
 great toys of which these are emblems ; 
 he will believe in what he sees and 
 touches in house, land, railroad stock 
 he will believe in these earnestly and 
 really, and in his eternal manhood nomi 
 nally and partially. And when his Fa 
 ther s messengers meet him, and face him 
 
14 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 about, and take him off his darling pur 
 suits, and sweep his big ships into the fire, 
 and crush his full-grown cars, then the 
 grown man will complain and murmur, 
 and wonder as the little man does now. 
 The Father wants the future, the child 
 the present, all through life, till death 
 makes the child a man. 
 
 So, though our Charley has his infirmi 
 ties, he is a little bit of a Christian after 
 all. Like you, brother, he has his good 
 hours, when he sits still and calm, and is 
 told of Jesus ; and his cheeks glow, and 
 tears come to his eyes; his bosom heaves; 
 and now he is sure he is going to be 
 always good; he is never going to be 
 naughty. He will stand still to have his 
 hair combed ; he will come the first time 
 mother speaks ; he will never speak a 
 cross word to Katy ; he repents of having 
 tyrannized over grandmamma, and made 
 poor mamma s head ache ; and is quite 
 sure that he has now got the victory over 
 all sin. Like the Israelites by the Red 
 
OUR CHARLEY. 15 
 
 Sea, he beholds his spiritual enemies dead 
 on the sea shore. But to-morrow, in one 
 hour even, what becomes of his good res 
 olutions ? What becomes of yours on 
 Monday ? 
 
 With all " our Charley s " backslidings, 
 he may teach us one thing which we have 
 forgotten. When Jesus w6uld teach his 
 disciples what faith ytfts, he took a child 
 and set him in thef midst of them. We 
 do not presume/mat this child was one of 
 those excep^kmal ones who have memoirs 
 a common average child, with 
 its sprites and tears, its little naughtinesses 
 ind goodnesses, and its aptness as an ex 
 ample was not in virtue of an exceptional 
 but a universal quality. If you want to 
 study faith, go to school to "your Char 
 ley." See his faith in you. Does he not 
 believe that you have boundless wealth, 
 boundless wisdom, infinite strength ? Is 
 he not certain of your love to that degree 
 that he cannot be repelled from you ? 
 Does he hesitate to question you on any 
 
16 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 thing celestial or terrestrial ? Is not your 
 word enough to outweigh that of the 
 wisest of the earth ? You might talk him 
 out of the sight of his eyes, the hearing 
 of his ears, so boundless is his faith in you. 
 Even checks and frowns cannot make 
 him doubt your love ; and though some 
 times, when you cross him, the naughty 
 murmuring spirit arises, yet in an hour it 
 dissolves, and his little soul flows back, 
 prattling and happy, into your bosom. 
 Be only to God as he is to you, and the 
 fireside shadow shall not have been by 
 your hearth in vain. 
 
WHAT IS TO BE DONE WITH OUR 
 CHARLEY ? 
 
 YES, that is the question ! The fact is, 
 there seems to be no place in heaven 
 above, or earth beneath, that is exactly 
 safe and suitable, except the bed. While 
 he is asleep, then our souls have rest ; we 
 know where he is and what he is about, 
 and sleep is a gracious state ; but then 
 he wakes up bright and early, and begins 
 tooting, pounding, hammering, singing, 
 meddling, asking questions, and, in short, 
 overturning the peace of society gener 
 ally, for about thirteen hours out of the 
 twenty-four. 
 
 Every body wants to know what to do 
 with him every body is quite sure that 
 he can t stay where they are. The cook 
 can t have him in the kitchen, w r here he 
 infests the pantry to get flour to make 
 
 2 (17) 
 
18 WHAT IS TO BE DONE 
 
 paste for his kites, or melts lead in the 
 new saucepan. If he goes into the wood 
 shed, he is sure to pull the wood pile down 
 upon his head. If he be sent up garret, 
 you think for a while that you have set 
 tled the problem, till you find what a 
 boundless field of activity is opened amid 
 all the packages, boxes, bags, barrels, and 
 cast-off rubbish there. Old letters, news 
 papers, trunks of miscellaneous contents, 
 are all rummaged, and the very reign of 
 Chaos and old Night is instituted. He sees 
 endless capabilities in all things, and is 
 always hammering something, or knock 
 ing something apart, or sawing or plan 
 ing, or dragging boxes or barrels in all 
 directions to build cities, or laying railroad 
 tracks, till every body s head aches, quite 
 down to the lower floor, and every body 
 declares that Charley must be kept out 
 of the garret. 
 
 Then you send Charley to school, and 
 hope you are fairly rid of him, for a few 
 hours at least. But he comes home noi- 
 
WITH OUR CHARLEY ? 19 
 
 sier and busier than ever, having learned 
 of some twenty other Charleys every sep 
 arate resource for keeping up a commo 
 tion that the superabundant vitality of 
 each can originate. He can dance like 
 Jim Smith ; he has learned to smack his 
 lips like Joe Brown ; and Will Briggs has 
 shown him how to mew like a cat ; and 
 he enters the house with a new war-whoop 
 learned from Tom Evans. He feels large 
 and valorous ; he has learned that he is a 
 boy, and has a general impression that he 
 is growing immensely strong and know 
 ing, and despises more than ever the con 
 ventionalities of parlor-life in fact he 
 is more than ever an interruption in the 
 way of decent folks, who want to be 
 quiet. 
 
 It is true, that if entertaining persons 
 will devote themselves to him exclusively, 
 reading and telling stories, he may be 
 kept in a state of quiescence ; but then 
 this is discouraging work, for he swallows 
 a story as a dog does a piece of meat, 
 
20 WHAT IS TO BE DONE 
 
 and looks at you for another, and another, 
 without the slightest consideration, so that 
 this resource is of short duration; and 
 then the old question comes up, What is 
 to be done with him ? 
 
 But, after all, Charley is not to be 
 wholly shirked, for he is an institution, a 
 solemn and awful fad ; and on the an 
 swer of the question, What is to be done 
 with him ? depends a future. Many a 
 hard, morose, and bitter man has corne 
 from a Charley turned off and neglected 
 many a parental heartache has come 
 from a Charley left to run the streets, 
 that mamma and sisters might play on 
 the piano, and write letters in peace. It 
 is easy to get rid of him there are fifty 
 ways of doing that he is a spirit that 
 can be promptly laid for a season, but if 
 not laid aright, will come back by and 
 by a strong man armed, when you can 
 not send him off at pleasure. 
 
 Mamma and sisters had better pay a 
 little tax to Charley now, than a terrible 
 
WITH OUR CHARLEY ? 21 
 
 one by and by. There is something sig 
 nificant in the old English phrase, with 
 which our Scriptures make us familiar 
 a MAN child ! A man child ! there you 
 have the word that should make you 
 think more than twice before you answer 
 the question, What shall we do with 
 Charley ? 
 
 For to-day he is at your feet to-day 
 you can make him laugh, you can make 
 him cry, you can persuade and coax, and 
 turn him to your pleasure ; you can make 
 his eyes fill and his bosom swell with re 
 citals of good and noble deeds ; in short, 
 you can mould him if you will take the 
 trouble. 
 
 But look ahead some years, when that 
 little voice shall ring in deep bass tones ; 
 when that small foot shall have a man s 
 weight and tramp ; when a rough beard 
 shall cover that little round chin, and all 
 the strength of manhood fill out that 
 little form. Then, you would give w r orlds 
 to have the key to his heart, to be able to 
 
22 WHAT IS TO BE DONE 
 
 turn and guide him to your will ; but if 
 you lose that key now he is little, you 
 may search for it carefully with tears 
 some other day, and not find it. Old 
 housekeepers have^ a proverb, that one 
 hour lost in the morning is never found 
 all day it has a significance in this case. 
 One thing is to be noticed about Char 
 ley, that rude, and busy, and noisy, as he 
 inclines to be, and irksome as carpet rules 
 and parlor ways are to him, he is still a 
 social little creature, and wants to be 
 where the rest of the household are. A 
 room ever so well adapted for a play 
 room cannot charm him at the hour when 
 the family is in reunion ; he hears the 
 voices in the parlor, and his play room 
 seems cold and desolate it may be 
 warmed by a furnace and lighted with 
 gas, but it is human light and warmth he 
 shivers for he longs to take his things 
 down and play by you ; he yearns to 
 hear the talk of the family, which he so 
 imperfectly comprehends, and is inces- 
 
WITH OUR CHARLEY ? 23 
 
 santly promising that of the fifty im 
 proper things which he is liable to do 
 in the parlor, he will not commit one if 
 you will let him stay there. 
 
 This instinct of the little one is Na 
 ture s warning plea God s admonition. 
 0, how many a mother who has neglect 
 ed it, because it was irksome to have the 
 child about, has longed, when her son 
 was a man. to keep him by her side, and 
 he would not ! Shut out as a little Arab 
 constantly told that he is noisy, that 
 he is awkward and meddlesome, and a 
 plague in general the boy has at last 
 found his own company in the streets, in 
 the highways and hedges where he runs, 
 till the day comes when the parents want 
 their son, the sisters their brother ; and 
 then they are scared at the face he brings 
 back to them, as he comes all foul and 
 smutty from the companionship to which 
 they have doomed him. Depend upon 
 it, mothers and elder sisters, if it is too 
 much trouble to keep Charley in your 
 
24 WHAT IS TO BE DONE 
 
 society, there will be places found for 
 him, warmed and lighted with no friendly 
 fires, where he who " finds some mischief 
 still for idle hands to do," will care for 
 him if you do not. You may put out a 
 tree, and it will grow while you sleep ; 
 but a son you cannot. You must take 
 trouble for him, either a little now, or a 
 good deal by and by. 
 
 Let him stay with you at least some 
 portion of every day. Put aside your 
 book or work to tell him a story, or read 
 to him from some book. Devise still par 
 lor plays for him, for he gains nothing if 
 he be allowed to spoil the comfort of the 
 whole circle. A pencil and a sheet of 
 paper, and a few patterns, will often keep 
 him quiet for an hour by your side ; or 
 in a corner he may build a block house, 
 annoying nobody ; and if occasionally he 
 does disturb you now, balance in your 
 own mind which is the greatest evil, to 
 be disturbed by him now, or when he is 
 a man. 
 
WITH OUR CHARLEY? 25 
 
 Of all that you can give your Charley, 
 if you are a good man or woman, your 
 presence is the best and safest thing. God 
 never meant him to do without you, any 
 more than chickens were meant to grow 
 without being brooded. 
 
 Then let him have some place in the 
 house where it shall be no sin to hammer,, 
 and pound, and saw, and make all the lit- 
 ter that his various schemes of business 
 require. Even if you can ill afford the 
 room, weigh well which is best, to spare 
 him that safe asylum, or take the chance 
 of one which he may find for himself in 
 the street. 
 
 Of all devices for Charley which we 
 have tried, a few shelves, which he may 
 dignify with the name of a cabinet, is 
 one of the best. He picks up shells, and 
 pebbles, and stones all odds and ends; 
 nothing comes amiss ; and if you give 
 him a pair of scissors and a little gum, 
 there is no end of the labels he will paste 
 on, and the hours that he may innocently 
 
26 OUR CHARLEY. 
 
 spend in sorting and arranging. A bottle 
 of liquid gum is an invaluable resource 
 for various purposes ; nor must you mind 
 though he varnish his nose, and fingers, 
 and clothes, so that he do nothing worse. 
 A cheap paint box, and some engravings 
 to color, is another ; and if you will give 
 him some real paint and putty, to paint 
 and putty his boats and cars, he is a 
 made man. All these things make trou 
 ble to be sure they do and will but 
 Charley is to make trouble ; that is the 
 nature of the institution. You are only 
 to choose between safe and wholesome 
 trouble and the trouble that comes at 
 last like a whirlwind. 
 
 God bless the little fellow, and send us 
 all grace to know what to do with him. 
 
 The stories following are some of those 
 with which one mother has beguiled the 
 twilight hours of one Charley ; they are 
 given in hopes that other mothers may 
 find pleasure in reading them to their 
 Charleys. 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 "PAPA," said Edward Thompson to his 
 father, "you don t know what beauti 
 ful things James Robertson has, of all 
 kinds." 
 
 66 0, yes," said little Robert, " when we 
 were there yesterday, he took us up into 
 a little room that w r as all full of play 
 things, just like a toy shop." 
 
 "He had little guns, and two drums, 
 and a trumpet, and a fife," said Edward ; 
 " and one of the drums was a real one, 
 papa, such as men play on." 
 
 " And, papa, he had railroad cars, with 
 a little railroad for them to go on, and 
 steam engine, and all," said Robert. 
 
 "And a whole company of wooden 
 soldiers," said Edward. 
 
 "And all sorts of blocks to build 
 houses," said Robert. 
 
 (27) 
 
28 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 "And besides, papa/ said Edward, "he 
 has a real live pony to ride on ; such a 
 funny little fellow you never saw ; and 
 he has such a pretty little riding stick, 
 and a splendid saddle and bridle." 
 
 " Eeally," said their father, " you make 
 out quite a list of possessions." 
 
 " 0, but, papa, we have not told you 
 half; he has a beautiful flower garden, 
 and a gardener to cultivate it for him, so 
 that he don t have to take any trouble 
 with it, and he can do any thing with the 
 flowers he chooses." 
 
 " 0, and, papa, he has rabbits, and a 
 beautiful gray squirrel, with a cage fixed 
 so nicely ; and the squirrel plays so many 
 droll tricks ; and he has a parrot that can 
 talk, and laugh, and call his name, and 
 say a great many funny things." 
 
 " Well," said their father, " I suppose 
 you think that James is a very happy 
 boy." 
 
 " 0, yes, indeed, papa ; how can he 
 help being happy ?" said both boys. u Be- 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 29 
 
 sides, his mamma, he says, lets him do 
 very much as he likes about every thing." 
 
 66 Indeed ! " said their father ; " and was 
 he so very happy all day when you were 
 there?" " 
 
 Why, no, not all day," said Edward ; 
 " but then there was a reason for it for 
 in the morning we had planned to go 
 out to the lake to fish, and it rained, and 
 it made James feel rather cross I sup 
 pose." 
 
 "But," said his father, "I should have 
 thought, by your account, that there were 
 things enough in the house to have 
 amused you all." 
 
 " But James said he was so used to all 
 those things that he did not want to play 
 with them," said Robert ; " he called some 
 of the prettiest things that he had ugly 
 old things/ and said he hated the sight 
 of them." 
 
 "Well," said their father, "I suspect, if 
 the truth was known, James is not so 
 much to be envied after all. I have been 
 
30 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 a week at a time at his father s house, 
 and I have thought that a more uncom 
 fortable, unhappy-tempered little fellow I 
 never saw." 
 
 " Well, that is strange," said Edward ; 
 " I am sure I would be happy if I was in 
 his place." 
 
 " I am afraid you would not," said his 
 father ; u for I believe it is having so 
 many things that makes him unhappy." 
 
 " Having so many things, papa ! " said 
 both boys. 
 
 " Yes, my sons ; but I will explain this 
 more to you some other time. However, 
 this afternoon, as you are going to have 
 a ride with me. I think I will take you 
 over to see a little boy who is a very 
 happy boy, as I think," said their father. 
 
 HS & * 
 
 " I wonder if this can be the house ? " 
 said Edward to Kobert, as the carriage 
 stopped before a very small brown house. 
 
 Their father got out, and asked them 
 to walk in with him. It was .a very little 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 31 
 
 house, with only two rooms in it ; and in 
 the one they entered they saw a very 
 pale, thin little boy, lying on a small, low 
 bed in front of the door. His face was 
 all worn away by disease, and his little 
 hands, which were folded on the outside 
 of the bed, were so thin one could almost 
 see through them. He had a few play 
 things lying by him on the bed, and on a 
 little stand by him was a cracked brown 
 mug, in which were some sweet peas, and 
 larkspurs, and lavender, and bright yel 
 low marigolds ; beside which lay a well- 
 worn Bible and hymn book. His mother 
 was ironing in the next room ; but when 
 she saw the boys and their father, she 
 came forward to receive them. 
 
 "Well, my little fellow," said Mr. Thomp 
 son, " how do you do to-day ?" 
 
 " 0, pretty comfortable," he said. 
 
 " I have brought my boys to see you," 
 said Mr. Thompson. 
 
 The sick boy smiled, and reached out 
 one of his thin little hands to welcome 
 
32 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 them. Edward and Robert took his hand, 
 and then turned and looked anxiously at 
 their father. 
 
 66 Papa, how long has he been so sick ?" 
 asked Robert. 
 
 " More than a year, young gentlemen," 
 said his mother; "it s a year since he 
 has been able to sit up ; and it s four 
 months since he has been able to be 
 turned at all in bed ; he has to lie all the 
 time, just as you see, on his back." 
 
 " 0, what a long, long time ! " said Ed 
 ward ; " why can t you turn him, and let 
 him lie on his side ? " 
 
 " Because it hurts him to lie on either 
 side." 
 
 " What is the matter with him ?" asked 
 Robert. 
 
 "Why, the doctor says it s a complaint 
 of the bone ; it began more than two 
 years ago, down in his foot, and they had 
 to cut the foot off, in hopes that that 
 would stop it ; but it didn t ; and then 
 they cut off the leg above the knee, and 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 33 
 
 that didn t stop it ; and it s creeping up, 
 up, up, and finally it will be the death of 
 him. He suffers dreadfully at nights ; 
 sometimes no sleep at all for two or three 
 nights." 
 
 u father, how dreadful ! " said Edward, 
 pressing close to his father. 
 
 "Papa," said Robert, looking up and 
 whispering, " I thought we were going to 
 see a little boy that w r as very happy." 
 
 " Wait a while," said Mr. Thompson, 
 66 and you will see ; " and then he turned 
 to the sick boy. 
 
 " My little fellow," said he, you find it 
 very tiresome lying here so long." 
 
 " A little so," said the boy, smiling very 
 pleasantly ; " but then I have so many 
 things to make me comfortable." 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " 0, 1 have a knife, and I can whittle a 
 little at a time, and I have this little 
 china dog that a lady gave me. I play 
 with that sometimes ; and then, don t you 
 see my flowers ? " 
 3 
 
34 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 The little boy pointed to a small bed 
 of flowers just before the door, where 
 there were some pinks, and some lark 
 spurs, and marigolds, and sweet peas ; it 
 was weeded very clean, and the flowers 
 made it bright enough. 
 
 "Mother planted all those flowers for 
 me in *the spring," he said, "and she has 
 watered and weeded them every night 
 after she had done her work ; they grow 
 beautifully, and I lie here every day and 
 look at them. Sometimes, when the rain 
 is falling, or in the morning when the 
 dew is on them, they look so bright and 
 fresh ! Mother puts some in the mug to 
 stand by me every day." 
 
 " But don t you suffer a great deal of 
 pain?" 
 
 a Sometimes I do ; but then, sir, I know 
 that God would not send it if it was not 
 best for me, so I am willing to bear it ; 
 besides, I know that the Lord Jesus Christ 
 suffered more pain for me than I suffer. 
 There are some beautiful hymns about it 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 35 
 
 in this book," he added, taking up his 
 little hymn book ; " and then I have the 
 Bible. 0, I don t know how I could get 
 along if it were not for that." 
 
 "But are you never unhappy when 
 you see other boys jumping and playing 
 about?" 
 
 " No, I am not ; I know God knows 
 what is best for me ; besides, my Saviour 
 comforts me. I love to lie here, when it 
 is all still, and think about him." 
 
 "Don t you hope that sometimes you 
 will get well, and be able to go about 
 again?" 
 
 " No, I know that I can t ; I shall not 
 live a great while ; they all say so." 
 
 " And don t you feel afraid to die ? " 
 
 " 0, no ; I feel as if I would be glad to. 
 I long to see my Saviour. All I feel sad 
 about is, that mother will be lonesome 
 when I am gone." 
 
 "Well, my little boy, if there is any 
 thing that I can send you to make you 
 more comfortable, I shall be glad to." 
 
36 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 " 0, thank you, sir ; but I don t know 
 as I want any thing." 
 
 " I wish I could relieve your pains, my 
 little fellow," said Mr. Thompson. 
 
 " God would do it in a minute, if it 
 was only best for me," said the boy ; " and 
 if it is not best, I had rather he would 
 not do it. Besides, I think I am happier 
 now than I used to be when I was well." 
 
 "Ah! how can that be?" 
 
 " I did not love God so much then, and 
 I used to forget to read the Bible. I had 
 not so much pleasure in thinking about 
 heaven," said the little boy. 
 
 " You remember," said Mr. Thompson, 
 " it says in the Bible, Before I was afflict 
 ed I went astray ; but now have I kept 
 thy word. " 
 
 "That is just it, sir," said the boy; 
 "just the way I feel. 0, 1 ve been very 
 happy since I have been sick here." 
 
 Edward and Robert looked at their fa 
 ther, at these words. Mr. Thompson now 
 rose to go. 
 
THE IIAPPY CHILD. 37 
 
 " If you please, sir, perhaps the boys 
 would like some of my flowers ; there is 
 a beautiful root of pinks there, and some 
 roses," said the sick boy. 
 
 " 0, no/ said Edward, " we won t take 
 them away from you." 
 
 " 0, 1 like to give them away," said the 
 boy, earnestly ; " do take some." 
 
 " Take some, my dear children ; it will 
 please him," said Mr. Thompson, in a low 
 voice, as he picked a few and gave to 
 each of the boys ; and then added aloud, 
 " We will keep them to remember you 
 by, my dear little fellow." 
 
 As they parted with the little boy, he 
 smiled sweetly, and put out his hand, and 
 added, 
 
 " If you ll come when my latest rose 
 bush is in blossom, I ll give you some 
 
 roses." 
 
 " Papa," said Edward, " that poor little 
 boy really does seem to be happy, and 
 yet he is poor, and sick, and in pain ; and 
 
38 THE HAPPY CHILD. 
 
 he has very few things, too. It is strange ; 
 he is certainly a great deal happier than 
 James Eobertson." 
 
 66 Well, I can tell you the reason/ said 
 his father. " It is because James Eobert 
 son is a selfish boy, that he is unhappy- 
 from morning till night he thinks of noth 
 ing but how to please himself. His fa 
 ther and mother have spent all their lives 
 in contriving ways to please him, and 
 have never required him to give up his 
 own will in any thing ; and now he is so 
 selfish that he is always unhappy. He 
 does not love God, and he does not love 
 his parents, nor any thing else, so well as 
 he loves himself; and such a boy will 
 always be unhappy. And the reason that 
 this poor little sick boy is happy, is be 
 cause he has learned to love God, his 
 Saviour, better than any thing else, and 
 to find all his pleasure in trying to do 
 His will instead of his own. This is what 
 makes him peaceful. If he did not love 
 God, and love to give up his will to Him, 
 
THE HAPPY CHILD. 39 
 
 and to bear ancl suffer whatever He 
 thought best, how miserable he would be 
 now!" 
 
 " He would be very fretful, I suppose," 
 said Edward ; " I m afraid I should be." 
 
 " Yes," said his father ; " but now, when 
 he has learned to give up entirely to the 
 will of his heavenly Father, see how he 
 seems to enjoy his flowers, and his hymn 
 book, and his few little playthings. He 
 enjoys them more than James Robertson 
 enjoys all his elegant things. Now, my 
 dear boys, remember this : The way to 
 be happy is to have a right hearty and not 
 to have every thing given to us that we 
 want." 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY.* 
 
 MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND : As I am go 
 ing to give you some account of my life, 
 I will begin at the beginning, and tell you 
 how fairies come into existence. You 
 must know, then, that if at midnight a 
 drop of dew Mis exactly in the middle 
 of a flower, and if nothing happens to 
 disturb it, it will absorb the fragrance and 
 essence of the flower, and in the morning 
 the first ray of light will change it into a 
 fairy. 
 
 It was a beautiful May morning, when 
 I first opened my eyes, and found myself 
 standing in a sweet-scented violet in a 
 garden on Walnut Hills, a village in the 
 north of England. 
 
 My dear sister Lillian, who had been 
 
 * The two following stories are by a friend of the 
 
 author s. 
 
 (40) 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 41 
 
 appointed by our queen to watch for me, 
 kindly helped me to unfold my wings, 
 and offered me a drop of nectar ; after 
 which she conducted me to the palace of 
 our queen, which I will describe to you 
 another time. 
 
 The queen, who is the most lovely 
 and beautiful fairy in the world, wel 
 comed me with a sweet smile, and said, 
 We receive you into our company, my 
 dear Viola, and hope you will be very 
 happy in the society of your sisters, and 
 will, like them, do much good wherever 
 you go. You cannot be too thankful 
 that you belong to a race of benevolent 
 fairies, and not to those mischievous ones 
 who spend all their time in plaguing and 
 tormenting poor mortals." 
 
 She then gave me a pencil of sun 
 beams, a small vial of essence of health, 
 a tiny air pillow, and a mantle, which she 
 told me would render me invisible to all 
 except infants and very young children. 
 "And now, my dear Viola/ said the queen, 
 
42 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 " I will leave you with your sister fairies. 
 Take good care of the present which you 
 have received. Lillie will tell you how 
 to use them. Once in seven days we 
 meet on the floating island, when each 
 fairy must give an account of what she 
 has done since our last meeting." 
 
 After the queen left us, Lillie told me 
 that every fairy made it the object of her 
 life to do good to mortals,, and that many 
 took for their particular charge the child 
 of some poor woman, who, on account of 
 care and poverty, could not herself pay 
 proper attention to it. I thought that I 
 should like that very much ; and as every 
 fairy is allowed to have one chosen friend, 
 to be always with her, Lillie and I took 
 our invisible mantles and flew away to 
 gether in search of some poor child who 
 might need our care. 
 
 In a little white cottage, in the village 
 of R, we found a poor, sickly baby, of 
 four months old, lying in its cradle alone. 
 Its mother had gone out to wash, and was 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 43 
 
 obliged to leave her poor baby with her 
 daughter Mary, a child of ten years of 
 age, who, though she loved her little sis 
 ter Emily, loved play still more, and was 
 at that moment sailing chip boats in a 
 pool of water at some distance from the 
 house, at the same time quieting her con 
 science by thinking that perhaps the baby 
 was asleep, or, at any rate, if it cried very 
 loud, she could hear it, and would run 
 home immediately. 
 
 The poor baby s pale face was wet with 
 tears when we found it, and it looked so 
 helpless and forlorn that we immediately 
 adopted it as our favorite. We dried its 
 tears with our wings, danced and sang to 
 amuse it, dropped fairy sugar in its mouth, 
 and did not leave it until it was comfort 
 ably asleep, when, painting on its eyelids 
 beautiful pictures, which we knew would 
 insure pleasant dreams, we left it for a 
 short time, and flew away to carry food 
 to a poor little bird which had been shot 
 in the wing by a cruel boy. 
 
44 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 When Lillie and I returned, we found 
 little Emily just waking up, and her moth 
 er, who had returned home, was preparing 
 some milk for her, into which I dropped 
 some of my essence, which not only im 
 proved the taste of the milk, but also 
 added very much to its strengthening 
 qualities ; so that when Emily had taken 
 it twice a day for two weeks, she began 
 to grow quite fat and rosy, to the surprise 
 of the neighbors, who had often prophe 
 sied that " Mrs. W. would never raise that 
 child." 
 
 Mrs. W. herself wondered what made 
 the child s eyes look so very bright some 
 times, and what made her so much qui 
 eter and happier than she used to be. 
 " Why, bless the child," said she, " she will 
 lie awake in the cradle and talk to her 
 self an hour at a time, and it pears Uke 
 she was looking at something, I don t 
 know what ; and then she will commence 
 singing like, in her baby fashion, and fairly 
 get herself to sleep, without being rocked 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 45 
 
 a bit ; she is getting a great fashion, too, 
 of looking at her hands, and gooing and 
 gaing at them, and she is getting so 
 strong that she can set up all alone by 
 herself; and Mary says that sometimes, 
 when I am gone la tor than usual, she will 
 begin to fret a little, and then, all at once, 
 she will begin sucking her thumb, and be 
 as quiet as a lamb until I come home ; 
 and now, this minute, do see how she is 
 smiling in her sleep. I used to think that 
 was a sign of colic ; but now " 
 
 "And is it the colic you mane?" said 
 a kind-hearted Irish woman ; u and sure 
 yourself may be asy about that same. 
 Never a bit of colic is it, but the good 
 angels are whispering to the swate darlint. 
 An sure it s the troth that I say, for my 
 self heard the good praste say that same." 
 
 They all smiled at what they considered 
 Irish superstition, and another neighbor 
 said, 
 
 "Well, Mrs. W., I am very glad the 
 child is doing so well. I expect a turn of 
 
46 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 good luck for you ; for I said to my Mary 
 on Monday, no, Tuesday no, Monday, 
 it was, the day that my fork fell and 
 stuck straight up in the floor; said I, Now, 
 Mary, Mrs. W. will have a turn of good 
 luck, I know, for there she goes with her 
 apron wrong side out, and it is after 
 twelve o clock, and last night she saw the 
 moon over her right shoulder, and, best 
 of all, my old man showed it to her, and 
 that is a sure sign of good luck. " 
 
 Poor, ignorant mortals, they never once 
 dreamed who it was that played with 
 the child, and covered her little fingers 
 with fairy rings, set with brilliants, and 
 painted pictures of gay birds and flowers 
 on her hands, and covered her thumb 
 with the purest fairy sugar, and played a 
 thousand tricks to amuse her ; but I hear 
 the silver bells of our dear queen, and 
 must stop writing for the present and 
 hasten to her. 
 
 Little Emily continued to grow and 
 thrive under our care, so that when she 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 47 
 
 was a year old, she was as lovely a child 
 as I ever saw. Her eyes were bright and 
 blue as my native flower, and her hair, 
 which Lillie and I curled every day when 
 she was asleep, hung in shining ringlets 
 around her sweet face and neck. We 
 taught her to keep herself neat and clean 
 by hiding ourselves and taking away her 
 rings and pictures whenever she soiled 
 her hands or dress, and the moment she 
 was washed we appeared again ; so that 
 she very soon learned to be neat and 
 careful, and whenever she got a spot on 
 her dress, or her little white hands, she 
 would hold them up and say, "Wass ? 
 wass," so earnestly, that her mother or 
 sister would always attend to .her. She 
 was called the little lady, on account of 
 her neatness, and was very much loved 
 and admired. About this time she began 
 to walk alone ; and now Lillie and I were 
 busier than ever. We kept our little air 
 pillow constantly with us, and whenever 
 she fell we threw it between her head 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 49 
 
 but we kept our little pet well supplied. 
 Mary tied up a little bundle of rags, and 
 Lillie painted it, and made it appear to 
 little Emily as beautiful as the most costly 
 wax doll. If she got a little chip with a 
 twine string tied to it, we made it look 
 like a gayly painted carriage. We col 
 ored and embellished every thing that 
 she had to play with, and made her baby 
 life alnlost one continued stream of sun 
 shine. But I do not wish you to think 
 that we spent all our time in taking care 
 of one child ; we played with the hum 
 ming birds and butterflies, danced by 
 moonlight with our sister fairies, and did 
 many good offices for people, beasts, birds, 
 and insects. One hot day in August, we 
 found a poor, tired traveller in the dusty 
 road. We sang like a thrush, and thus 
 drew his attention to a little grove near 
 by, where was a mossy bank and a spring 
 of the clearest and coolest of water. As 
 he drank of the water, we dropped into 
 his cup a little of our essence, and fanned 
 4 
 
50 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 him with our wings. " 0, what a good 
 little breeze ! " said he, as he threw him 
 self down on the bank of moss, and was 
 soon in a refreshing sleep. We then paint 
 ed on his eyelids an exact representation 
 of our queen s palace and garden, and 
 left him to enjoy his dream. 
 
 The next morning we were surprised 
 and delighted, on visiting Emily, to find 
 that our traveller was Mrs. W. s only son, 
 w r ho had just got through his apprentice 
 ship in a distant city, and had come home 
 to work for and comfort his mother and 
 little sisters. He was sitting with Emily 
 on his knee, looking with pride and affec 
 tion at her bright eyes and beautiful 
 curls, and telling a very curious dream 
 to his mother and Mary, who were listen 
 ing with great attention. He was just fin 
 ishing his dream ; but as I know it a little 
 better than he did, I will tell it to you, 
 and you will then know how the beauti 
 ful Fairy Queen lives. 
 
LEAVES FROM TUB LIFE OF A FAIRY. 51 
 
 THE l".:i \M. 
 
 I was lying down m rest on a green 
 
 .. \\hen Middenly i : nd heneath 
 
 me seemed \\ay. and 1 fell down, 
 
 that m^N head LJ-IVNN diy/v. and 
 I ive up all hope; \shen Middenlv 1 t onnd 
 jn\ Self in a 1 rautifid gTOl < - Thr i 
 and grass AM iv el tin- inoM K.\dv gl 
 1 , Bt BaW, :md inanv of thr tr66l IfeW 
 
 ii fruit and llov, 
 
 hrilliant colors. l>inl> oi -ay pluii 
 lilli-d tin- ; ami tin* 
 
 fame <>f the flowers \\as drli-htfnl. 
 
 1 wandered about until 1 came to a -mall 
 
 lak.- :y Mai ; the hottoin of 
 
 thr lake was covered uith hi-amiful -iniis 
 
 and Lfl Mono ; thoil.-allds of 1. 
 
 j.i-arl and lined \\ ith 
 
 leavefl were sailing ahout. and in each 
 hoat was a liijht little taiiy . 
 
 the middle of the lake was a tl. 
 idand \vhi. tinl t" he 
 
 me. and grew more and i.. 
 
52 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 lovely the more I examined it. It seemed 
 to be composed entirely of moss and 
 flowers, and shaded by the most delicate 
 little trees, in exact imitation of the larger 
 trees which I described. The smallest of 
 humming birds and butterflies kept the 
 trees and flowers in continual motion. 
 Exactly in the centre of this island stood 
 a small circular palace ; it was white as 
 the purest alabaster, delicate as the rose 
 leaf, and so transparent that I could see 
 distinctly all that was going on inside. 
 The roof of the palace was in the form of 
 an inverted lily, the petals of which were 
 bordered with rubies and emeralds, and all 
 kinds of precious stones. The roof was 
 supported by pillars of pearl, around which 
 were twined never-fading roses, about as 
 large as a small forget-me-not, the tiny 
 green vines and rich crimson roses con 
 trasting beautifully with the snowy white 
 ness of the palace. The queen was the 
 most elegant little creature that you 
 can imagine ; every look, word, and ac- 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 53 
 
 tion was perfect grace and beauty. She 
 seemed to be very busy with, her attend 
 ants in arranging and weaving a number 
 of little crowns and garlands, by which I 
 supposed they were preparing for some 
 festival. While I stood wondering and 
 admiring, I heard the sound of a little 
 silver bell, and immediately every little 
 boat was brought up to the island, and the 
 fairies all gathered around their queen, 
 (who was seated on a throne in front of 
 her palace,) and each fairy in turn told 
 where she had been and what she had 
 done since their last meeting. 
 
 The queen then made a speech, in 
 which she told them how happy she was 
 to find that they had been so diligent 
 and kind, so self-denying, and so careful 
 of the happiness of others. " Continue, 
 my beloved ones," she said, " to be thus 
 pure and good ; mingle with mortals, and 
 do all you can for them, but keep your 
 selves free from their sins and follies ; for 
 if one shade of envy, jealousy, or any evil 
 
54 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 passion, should come into our domain, it 
 would destroy our happiness forever." 
 She then gave to each of them a little 
 crown or garland of myrtle and rose 
 buds, and they were preparing to dance, 
 when, forgetting myself, I made a slight 
 movement, and immediately the island, 
 palace, fairies, all were gone, and I awoke 
 and found myself three miles from home, 
 and the sun going down. I felt quite 
 rested and refreshed, and shall always 
 remember my pleasant dream. 
 
 Mrs. W. was much surprised and pleased 
 with her son s dream, and said that it 
 sounded almost like reading ; that he always 
 was a lucky boy, and she had no doubt 
 but his dream was a good one ; that 
 she should not wonder if he found work 
 and good wages that very day, for she 
 always heard that it was a good sign to 
 dream about fairies. He did very soon 
 find work, for he was well known to be 
 an honest and diligent young man, and 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 55 
 
 things soon began to be more pleasant 
 and comfortable at the cottage. The lit 
 tle garden was planted and kept in order, 
 a cow bought, and Mrs. W. only went out 
 to wash once a week. Mary was sent to 
 school, and new clothes were provided 
 for the whole family. When Emily was 
 about three years of age, she one day 
 found two or three leaves of Mary s old 
 Primer, and I painted the letters, and 
 made them look so pretty that she was 
 quite delighted with them, and began at 
 once to learn their names. Lillie and I 
 had learned to read English by attending 
 little children at school, and we found no 
 difficulty in teaching Emily. As she grew 
 older and more earthly, we began to fade 
 from her sight, but we still with our pen 
 cils color and brighten all that she came 
 in contact with, and put kind and pleasant 
 thoughts into her mind. We taught her 
 to be obedient and diligent, to be kind to 
 animals, and whenever she did a good 
 action we felt repaid for all our care of 
 
56 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 her. When she was four years of age, 
 her brother was very much surprised one 
 day to find her reading a book which he 
 had just left, and still more surprised to 
 find that nobody knew how she had 
 learned to read. Mary said she remem 
 bered that, some time ago, Emmy got 
 hold of her old Primer, and asked her 
 the names of some of the letters, but she 
 never thought any more about it. Mrs. 
 W. said she had seen the child often play 
 ing with a book, as she supposed, but 
 never thought of her learning to read ; 
 and when Emily was asked who taught 
 her, she raised her dark eyes with a look 
 of wonder at being asked such a ques 
 tion, and said, " Pretty book." 
 
 Things went on very quietly in the vil 
 lage until Emily was six years of age, 
 when some ladies from London, who were 
 spending the summer in the country, es 
 tablished a Sunday school. Mary and 
 Emily both attended, and here they 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIEE OF A FAIRY. 57 
 
 learned better things than the best of 
 fairies could teach them. 
 
 They heard and read about the great 
 Creator and Saviour of the human race, 
 and of the home which he has prepared 
 for all who love him, compared with 
 which Fairyland is as a spot on the sun. 
 
 Emily, who was still the pet and the 
 pride of the family, would sit whole 
 evenings between her mother and brother 
 George, repeating hymns and verses which 
 her teacher had taught her, or reading to 
 them in her little Testament, until the 
 things of this world seemed to fade from 
 their sight, and heaven and eternity 
 alone seemed worth living for. They 
 passed two happy years in this manner, 
 until Emily w r as eight years old, when, 
 without any visible cause, she began to 
 fade and waste away. Every month she 
 grew weaker, although George got the 
 best physician that could be found to 
 attend upon her, and every thing that 
 could be thought of was done for her, 
 
58 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 but all in vain. " I am going home, dear 
 mother/ she said ; " I am going to be with 
 the dear Saviour, who loves little children 
 so much, and I shall then be a good child, 
 mother always good and never even 
 think a wrong thought. But I shall not 
 forget you ; I shall always love you, and 
 Mary, and brother George, and soon you 
 will all come, and we will be happy to 
 gether. 
 
 It was beautiful now to see the kind 
 ness and affection which this poor family 
 showed to each other in their affliction ; 
 how George, after working hard all day, 
 would go a mile out of his way to get an 
 orange for his little sister ; how tenderly 
 he would take her in his arms, and carry 
 her about the room to relieve the weari 
 ness and nervousness caused by her lying 
 so long on her little bed; how quietly 
 and thoughtfully the once careless Mary 
 would do and remember all the little 
 things that her mother, in her anxiety 
 and grief, had forgotten ; and, in short, 
 
LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 59 
 
 how they all seemed to forget them 
 selves, and live only to comfort and help 
 each other. 
 
 Emily died as she had lived, gently and 
 happily. The sun was just setting ; her 
 Sabbath school teacher, with her friends 
 standing round her bed, longing to do 
 something, and yet unable to help or 
 relieve her. 
 
 Emily, my darling," said her mother, 
 " what can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Nothing, dear mother," whispered the 
 dying child ; " the Lord is my Shepherd, 
 I shall not want. Yea, though I walk 
 through the valley " 
 
 She could say no more ; her eyes grew 
 brighter and brighter, and with a smile 
 which made her face look like the face of 
 an angel, she left us, and was with the 
 Saviour whom she loved. 
 
 for a human soul ! To feel for one 
 hour such love as lighted up that pale 
 face, would outweigh all the pleasures of 
 Fairyland. Emily will live forever and 
 
60 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A FAIRY. 
 
 ever, pure and holy. I shall live and be 
 happy, perhaps for thousands of years, 
 and then sleep never to wake again. 
 My happiness and usefulness will come 
 to an end. Hers, never. 
 
 Lillian and I have taken care of a great 
 many little children, but we never found 
 one that we loved so well as little Emily. 
 We took seeds from our favorite flowers, 
 and planted them on her grave, and the 
 next summer her friends were pleased 
 and surprised to find violets and lilies of 
 the valley in full bloom ; and even now, 
 Mary, who is a good and respectable 
 woman, and has a home and a little 
 Emily of her own, has just returned from 
 weeding and watering the fairy flowers. 
 
UNCLE JERRY S DREAM ABOUT THE 
 BROWNIES. 
 
 I HAD just settled myself in my easy 
 chair, to take my usual nap after dinner, 
 when the door was suddenly opened, and 
 my little son and daughter entered, all 
 ready for school. 
 
 "Papa," said little Tom, "won t you 
 please to give me a cent to buy a slate 
 pencil?" 
 
 "Another slate pencil! Why, Tom, 
 you ll ruin me. How many have you 
 had this week ? " 
 
 " Only two, sir, and this is Thursday. 
 My last I kept two days, and I should 
 have had it yet, only yesterday I just 
 laid it down a minute while I went out 
 in recess time, and when I came in I 
 couldn t find it any where. Susy staid 
 after school, and helped me look for it ; 
 
 (61) 
 
62 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 but I think somebody must have taken 
 it ; and this morning I had to borrow a 
 pencil and do my sum in recess. I didn t 
 get any time to play at all." 
 
 " Good for you, you careless rogue. If 
 I was your teacher, I d make you lose 
 your recess every time you lost your 
 pencil." 
 
 " Then I m glad you are not my 
 teacher," said he, with a sly look, as he 
 pocketed the cent, and slipped fairly out 
 of my reach. " Papa, you wouldn t real 
 ly, would you?" said little Susan, who 
 always took every thing in earnest. 
 
 " Well, I don t know, pet," said I I 
 guess I shouldn t be a very cruel teacher." 
 
 Susan seemed satisfied, and followed 
 her brother ; and I, wondering what in 
 the world became of slate pencils, pins, 
 and needles, very soon found myself in 
 the land of dreams. I seemed to be 
 wandering about in a thick forest of pine 
 trees ; the sky was covered with clouds, 
 the wind sang mournfully among the 
 
FINVILLE. 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 63 
 
 branches, and not a path or the slightest 
 trace of human footsteps could be seen. 
 
 Suddenly I came to an open place, and 
 there, in the space of twelve feet square, 
 stood a whole village. Each little house 
 was about two or three inches square, 
 built in the form of a log cabin of slate 
 pencils, the spaces between the pencils 
 being filled with pieces of paper, one of 
 which (having by some accident got 
 loose) looked wonderfully like one of the 
 missing leaves from Tom s spelling book. 
 The chimneys were little thimbles with 
 the ends knocked out ; the fences were 
 all closely built with needles and pins, 
 and over every little gateway, towering 
 above the top of the house, stood, 
 stretched wide open, a pair of scissors, 
 I stood for some time in silent astonish 
 ment. What in the world, thought I, is 
 the meaning of all this ? Why, there are 
 wife s scissors that I borrowed the other 
 day to cut my hair with ; and there is 
 Susy s little forget-me-not thimble, that 
 
64 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 she was so proud of, and there is I 
 was interrupted in my observations by a 
 low, disagreeable, croaking sound, which 
 seemed to proceed from behind a large 
 pine tree near which I stood and look 
 ing carefully round, I saw two such 
 hateful, spiteful-looking creatures, that I 
 thought their faces must ache, they were 
 so very ugly. They were about an inch 
 in height, and had each of them a little 
 bag about twice as large as themselves, 
 which appeared to be quite full of one 
 thing and another, and yet they seemed 
 to lift them about with perfect ease. 
 They held in their hands a girdle which 
 made them invisible whenever they wore 
 it. I wondered that they didn t wear it 
 all the time. 
 
 tf Well, Wormwood," said the uglier of 
 the two, " what have you been about 
 since I saw you last? Have you had 
 much fun ? " 
 
 Why, Nightshade, I can t say that I 
 have had a very jolly time. You see, I m 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 65 
 
 not much used to the ways of the world 
 yet. I ve only been here two weeks; 
 and then those floating islanders, they do 
 bother a fellow terribly, with their bal 
 sam, and their pencils, and all their hypo 
 critical nonsense about being kind, and 
 good, and honest, and true, and all that 
 stuff that they are forever whispering to 
 one child or another. I wish Rosa, and 
 Lillian, and Viola, and the whole set of 
 them island and all were at the bot 
 tom of the Red Sea ; then one might have 
 a chance to do something. The other day, 
 I found a little fellow looking wistfully at 
 a basket of ripe apples, which stood at 
 the door of a store. Take one, said I ; 
 ( take it quick ; the man is busy, and 
 won t see you. Pshaw, don t be so par 
 ticular ; it s only an apple. He reached 
 forward, and had one in his hand, when, 
 as ill luck would have it, Rosa, the fairy, 
 came flying along, and just sung in his 
 ear a part of a tune which his mother 
 had taught him, and he dropped the 
 
66 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 apple as quick as he would a red-hot 
 coal, and away he ran. I tell you, Night 
 shade, it s hard work to make a boy 
 steal when he is thinking of his mother. 
 "Well, I didn t like to be cheated so, and 
 I followed him home, and spent several 
 days in the family; but it was in fact 
 time wasted ; for, although there were 
 seven children, the mother was so watch 
 ful, and the children so particular about 
 saying their prayers, and studying their 
 Bible lessons, and singing their hymns, 
 that I could get no power over them at 
 all. One day, I found the youngest child 
 alone, and I thought I would make him 
 swear. Well, I whispered some w r ords 
 in his ear, very softly, but so distinctly 
 that he didn t know them from his own 
 thoughts. Now/ said I, say them ; it 
 will make you feel like a man, and it is 
 just as bad to think wicked words as 
 to say them, and you know you have 
 thought them already/" 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 67 
 
 " And did he say them ? " asked Night 
 shade, with a malicious grin. 
 
 " Say them ! no he ran crying to his 
 mother, and said, ma, I am so naughty, 
 I have been thinking swear > like what that 
 man said to his horses this morning. Are 
 you afraid that I shall grow up like him, 
 ma ? She took the little fellow on her 
 lap, and I cleared out ; for I knew there 
 was no chance for me that day. 
 
 " Next morning, I was delighted to find 
 one of the little girls climbing up to get 
 something off the mantel-piece a thing 
 that she had been forbidden to do. I 
 saw what she did not that the sleeve of 
 her apron brushed against one of the 
 flowers in her mother s china vase, and I 
 suddenly flew right in her face in the 
 form of a dragon-fly, which frightened 
 her, so that she started and knocked 
 down the vase, which was broken into a 
 dozen pieces. I was delighted, of course. 
 6 Now, said I, you have got yourself into 
 trouble ; that is your mother s favorite 
 
68 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 vase ; she will be very much displeased, 
 and will lose all confidence in you, be 
 cause you know you promised never to 
 try to get any thing off the mantel-piece ; 
 and now you have not only broken your 
 mother s favorite vase, but what is worse, 
 you have broken your word. Your father, 
 too, will know it, and all the family and 
 this afternoon, when they go to ride, you 
 will be left at home. The best thing that 
 you can do now is to go quietly out of 
 the room, shut the door softly, and say 
 nothing you will never be suspected. 
 If you are asked about it, you can say 
 you don t know who broke it. 
 
 " Always tell the truth, said Lillian, 
 the fairy ; remember what your teacher 
 said about that last Sabbath. You have 
 done wrong, but your mother is your 
 best friend ; you had better go tell her 
 about it before it is too late. " 
 
 "And did she go?" 
 
 " Yes, the little goose picked up the 
 pieces, and went right to her mother and 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 69 
 
 told her all about it ; and I was so mad 
 that I just gathered up a few pins and 
 pencils and came away." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! but you are green/ said 
 Nightshade ; " to think of your spending 
 your time in such a house as that. Now, 
 let me give you a little piece of advice : 
 Next time, go into a school, where one 
 poor, bewildered teacher has forty or fifty 
 wild, careless boys and girls to attend to. 
 There you can play your tricks to any 
 extent. You will always find a few 
 bright ones, who are up to any thing that 
 you can put into their heads, and not at 
 all troubled with conscience. They will 
 lead the rest, and there is no end to the 
 mischief that you can make them do. 
 As to lying, why, that s nothing to some 
 of them ; and when a boy gets to be an 
 expert liar, it is very easy to make him 
 steal ; I ve got more such fellows into jail 
 than you can count in a day ; and as to 
 pencils and paper, I know of a whole 
 town, six times as big as Pinville here, 
 
70 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 that was built entirely from one district 
 school. Or, if you are fond of private 
 life, go into a family where the children 
 all forget to say their prayers, and the 
 mother forgets to attend to it; where 
 they consider the Bible a very dull old 
 book, and the Sabbath the most tedious 
 day in the week ; or where the father 
 thinks of nothing but how he can make 
 the most money, and the mother thinks 
 only how she can spend it in the most 
 fashionable and genteel manner; where 
 the children are all taught to look out 
 for number one, and to care for nobody 
 but themselves. 
 
 u If you want to make a boy swear, 
 don t frighten him, and make him run to 
 his mother, as you did before ; but first 
 teach him to say, Confound it, or, By 
 George, or, By jingo just let him get in 
 the habit of using such expressions when 
 ever he is surprised or angry, and you 
 will then find it an easy matter to make 
 him swear. If you want him to steal, let 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 71 
 
 him begin at home with a lamp of sugar, 
 a piece of cake, or a few raisins ; and 
 then, if you have taught him to lie easily, 
 you will soon have him in the straight 
 road to ruin." 
 
 " Ah, well," said Wormwood, " I ll re 
 member ; but what is that red thing in 
 your bag ? " 
 
 " This," said Nightshade, pulling out a 
 beautiful coral necklace, " this is Emily s 
 birthday present from uncle John/ I 
 borrowed it, Wormwood just borrowed 
 it, you know, to pave my yard with. Ha, 
 ha ! won t these little beads make pretty 
 paving stones ? Little Miss Emily had 
 been told often not to take it off her 
 neck on any account, but I persuaded her 
 one day just to try it on her little white 
 kitten. By the way, Wormwood, that lit 
 tle word just is worth all the beads in 
 creation to us just this, and only just 
 that. 0, what a prime little word it is ! 
 Well, as I was saying, she just tried it on 
 her kitten, and I, seeing that the door was 
 
72 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 open, just stuck a pin into kitty s ear, and 
 away she flew into the garden, through 
 bushes and fences, and I after her, and 
 Emily crying and chasing us both, until 
 kit dropped her necklace, which I pocket 
 ed, or rather bagged, and left Miss Emily 
 to make it up with her mother and uncle 
 John the best way she could." 
 
 "And what did you do next?" said 
 Wormwood. 
 
 "Well, I amused myself in various 
 ways. I found a little girl sewing ; and 
 as she seemed to be in a hurry to get 
 through, I first knotted her thread, then 
 twitched her needle away, and threw it 
 as far as I could across the room ; and 
 while she was looking for it, I rolled her 
 spool of thread under the stove, and blew 
 a piece of paper over her scissors, which 
 she had dropped in looking for her needle ; 
 and when she ran up stairs to get more 
 thread, I followed her, and hung her nice 
 new dress on a tack which her brother 
 had just driven into the window sill ; and 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 73 
 
 as she was still in a hurry, she tore it 
 across a whole breadth before she could 
 stop. 0, I ve torn dozens of dresses in 
 this manner, on nails and door-latches. 
 Next, I went into the kitchen to help 
 them take up dinner, as I knew they 
 were going to have company. The first 
 thing I did was to slip a large china dish 
 out of the cook s hands, which was of 
 course broken all to pieces. Dinah rolled 
 up her eyes, and declared she didn t know 
 how dat ar dish cum to slip out of her 
 hands she spected Miss B. would be 
 mighty mad, but she couldn t help it no 
 how. I then dropped a lump of fairy 
 ice into the saucepan, and Dinah said she 
 ( bleeved it was bewitched every thing 
 was a waiten for that ar gravy, and it 
 wouldn t bile. By this time I was tired 
 of staying in the house, and so, after 
 cracking a tumbler with my bag of pen 
 cils, rolling two or three burning brands 
 from the fire down on the new dining 
 
74 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 room carpet, and filling the room with 
 smoke and smut, I flew away. 
 
 " My next visit was to a farm house. 
 Here I had fine fun. I stuck pins into 
 the cows, and made them kick over the 
 milk pails, scared the setting hens, and 
 sent them cackling off their nests, fright 
 ened the horses, and made them upset 
 the wagon and throw all the farmer s eggs 
 and butter which he was carrying to mar 
 ket into the mud, and various other pleas 
 ant little tricks of the kind ; but the best 
 thing I did there was to gnaw the clothes 
 line, and let down all the wet clothes on 
 the ground, and then drive a few stray 
 sheep right over them all. Worm 
 wood, if you had seen that old woman 
 and her daughters, you would have 
 laughed yourself all away to nothing 
 I thought they would be the death of me. 
 They had just dressed themselves up in 
 their new corn-colored dresses, and were 
 going out to spend the afternoon, hoping 
 to have an opportunity of saying that 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 75 
 
 they always made it a pint to get all 
 their washin and cleanin done up before 
 dinner but just as they were starting, 
 one of them happened to look round 
 towards the clothes; and what a sight 
 met their astonished eyes ! I never heard 
 women scold and storm quite as bad as 
 they did. I thought in my heart they d 
 swear. I left them disputing as to who 
 left the gate open, and let in them plaguy 
 sheep, and went laughing off through the 
 fields towards town." 
 
 " And what did you do on the way ? " 
 said Wormwood. 
 
 " Well, I broke a few butterflies wings, 
 pulled little birds feathers, stepped into a 
 cottage now and then, tickled the babies 
 noses, and pulled their hair to make them 
 cross ; stole little girls thimbles and nee 
 dles whenever they only laid them down fast 
 one minute] while they ran off to play or to 
 look at something ; jerked people in their 
 sleep, and made them think they were 
 falling ; drew ugly pictures on their fore- 
 
76 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM 
 
 heads to make them have bad dreams ; 
 went to church on Sunday with other 
 good people, and scattered here and 
 there a pin or a straw for the little boys 
 and girls to play with ; whispered to the 
 ladies to look at Mrs. A. s new shawl, and 
 Miss B. s horrid ugly bonnet, &c. ; fanned 
 dull people with poppy leaves, and set 
 them to bowing and bobbing to the min 
 ister and to each other ; got several of 
 the singers up in the gallery engaged in 
 whispering and writing notes to each 
 other; told the minister that it was of 
 no use to preach to such sleepy, careless 
 people and the people that it did them 
 no good to hear such dull, prosy ser 
 mons ; and after I got them all thor 
 oughly discontented, why, I came away, 
 and left them to enjoy themselves." 
 
 Well, well," said Wormwood, " I ll take 
 you for a pattern ; " and here they both 
 together set up such a horrid, discordant 
 laugh, that I awoke. 
 
 "Wife," said I, "do the children re- 
 
ABOUT THE BROWNIES. 77 
 
 member their prayers morning and even 
 ing ? You needn t look any more for 
 those scissors ; you ll never see them 
 again." 
 
 " Why, my dear husband/ said she, 
 laughing, and holding up the scissors, 
 a what s the matter now ? How wild and 
 queer you look ! you must have been 
 dreaming." 
 
 I was thoroughly awake by this time, 
 and told my dream to Tom and Susan, 
 who had just returned from school. 
 "And now, children," said I, "don t let 
 the wicked brownies tempt you to do 
 any of their naughty tricks ; always tell 
 the truth, and don t lay your things down, 
 not a single minute, but always put them 
 away when you have done using them." 
 
 They both promised to be very good, 
 and Tom ran off to play ; but little Susy 
 climbed up in my lap, and said, 
 
 " Papa, are there really any brownies ? 
 and is that story about Viola true, that 
 you told us yesterday ? " 
 
78 UNCLE JERRY S DREAM. 
 
 " No, no, dear/ said I, " they are only 
 made-up stories ; but it is true that there 
 are wicked spirits, always ready to tempt 
 us to do wrong, and to feel discontented 
 and unhappy ; and it is also true that the 
 Lord Jesus and his good angels watch over 
 us, and are always ready to teach and help 
 us to do right, and to be good and happy. 
 If we listen to them, and love the Bible, 
 and are willing to be led and guided by 
 their kind precepts, they will never leave 
 us to the power of the wicked ones, but 
 will watch over us and take care of us as 
 long as we live, help us through all our 
 difficulties, and at last take us to their 
 happy home, to live with them forever." 
 
TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 
 
 CHARLEY S mother would often sit with 
 him by the fire, before the lamp was 
 lighted in the evening, and repeat to him 
 little pieces of poetry. This is one that 
 Charley used to like particularly. It is 
 written by Miss Jane Taylor. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE LITTLE FISH. 
 
 " Dear mother," said a little fish, 
 
 " Pray is not that a fly ? 
 I m very hungry, and I wish 
 
 You d let me go and try." 
 
 " Sweet innocent," the mother cried, 
 And started from her nook, 
 
 " That horrid fly is meant to hide 
 The sharpness of the hook ! " 
 
 (79) 
 
80 TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 
 
 Now, as I ve heard, this little trout 
 
 Was young and silly too ; 
 And so he thought he d venture out, 
 
 To see what he could do. 
 
 And round about the fly he played, 
 With many a longing look ; 
 
 And often to himself he said, 
 " I m sure that s not a hook 
 
 c I can but give one little pluck 
 
 To try, and so I will." 
 So on he went, and lo, it stuck 
 
 Quite through his little gill 
 
 And as he faint and fainter grew, 
 With hollow voice he cried, 
 
 ft Dear mother, if I d minded you, 
 I should not thus have died." 
 
 After this was finished, Charley looked 
 gravely into the fire, and began his re 
 marks upon it. " What a silly fellow that 
 
TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 81 
 
 little trout was ! He might have known 
 better." 
 
 " Take care, Charley," said his mamma ; 
 " there are a great many little boys just 
 as silly as this trout. For instance, I 
 knew a little boy, a while ago, whose 
 mamma told him not to touch green 
 apples or currants, because they would 
 make him sick. He did not mean to 
 touch them, for he knew that it is very 
 disagreeable to be sick and take medicine, 
 but yet he did the very same thing that 
 this little trout did. 
 
 " Instead of keeping far away, he would 
 walk about under the trees and pick up 
 the green apples to look at, and feel of 
 the green currants, just as the little fish 
 would play round the hook. By and by 
 he said, I really don t think they will 
 hurt me ; I will just take one little taste. 
 And then he ate one, and then another, 
 till finally he got very sick. Do you re 
 member ? " 
 
 6 
 
82 TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 
 
 " mamma, that was me. Yes, I re 
 member." 
 
 66 Now, Charley, hear what I tell you : 
 nobody does very wrong things because 
 they mean to at first. People begin by 
 little and little, just tasting and trying 
 what is wrong, like this little fish. 
 
 " Then there is George Jones, a very 
 fine boy, a bright boy, and one who means 
 to do right ; but then George does not 
 always keep away from the hook. You 
 will see him sometimes standing round 
 places where men are drinking and swear 
 ing. George does not mean ever to drink 
 or to swear ; he only stands there to hear 
 these men sing their songs and tell their 
 stories, and sometimes he will drink just 
 a little sip of sugar and spirits out of the 
 bottom of a tumbler; but George never 
 means really to be a drunkard. Ah, take 
 care, George ; the little fish did not mean 
 to be caught either, but he kept playing 
 round and round and round the hook, 
 
TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 83 
 
 and at last he was snapped up ; and so 
 you will be if you don t take care. 
 
 " Then William Day means to be an 
 honest boy, and you could not make him 
 more angry than to tell him he would 
 ever be a thief; and yet William plays 
 too much round the hook. What does 
 he do ? Why, he will take little things 
 out of his father s desk or shop, or out of 
 his mother s basket or drawers, when he 
 really does not want his father or mother 
 to see him or find it out. William thinks, 
 0, it s only a little thing ; it isn t much 
 matter ; I dare say they had just as lief I 
 had it as not, Ah, William, do you 
 think so ? Why do you not go to your 
 parents and ask for it then? No; the fact 
 is that William is learning to steal, but he 
 does not believe it is stealing any more 
 than the little fish believed that what 
 looked like a fly was in fact a dreadful 
 hook. By and by, if William doesn t take 
 care, when he goes into a shop or store, 
 he will begin to take little things from 
 
84 TAKE CARE OF THE HOOK. 
 
 his master, just as he did from his father 
 and mother ; and he will take more and 
 more, till finally he will be named and 
 disgraced as a thief, and all because, like 
 the little fish, he ivould plan around the hook." 
 
 " Mamma," said Charley, " who are 
 George Jones and William Day ? Did I 
 ever see them ? " 
 
 " My dear, I must use some names in a 
 story ; I am just making this up to show 
 Charley what I mean by playing round the 
 hooJc. And now let me teach you a text 
 out of the Bible that means the same 
 thing: He that despiseth small things 
 shall fall by little and little. " 
 
FAIRY TALES. 
 
 u COME, papa, do tell us a story," said 
 little Edward and Mary to their father, 
 on New Year s evening. 
 
 " A story a story ! always a story," 
 said the father. " What shall it be about, 
 now?" 
 
 "0, something wonderful." said Ed 
 ward ; " I like your real wonderful stories, 
 like the Arabian Nights about palaces 
 in the air, and about genii that can bring 
 up great dishes of gold and diamonds." 
 
 "Yes," said little Mary; "and where 
 they live the trees are all covered with 
 pearls and precious stones." 
 
 " Rather poor eating, I should think," 
 said her father, "unless they have extraor 
 dinary teeth." 
 
 "And then, papa, these genii can go 
 any where in a minute up to the sun, 
 
 (85) 
 
86 FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and down to the bottom of the ocean ; 
 they can lift up great mountains, and pile 
 up rocks, and they have long, flashing 
 swords." 
 
 "It seems to me," said their father, 
 " that you know all about them already. 
 I don t need to tell you a story about 
 them." 
 
 " 0, but we always like to hear, even if 
 we do know." 
 
 Well," said the father, then I will 
 tell you a story about two little children 
 whose father was a Spirit King." 
 
 " What, a genius ? " said Edward. 
 
 " I don t know exactly what you mean 
 by a genius. He was a spirit and a great, 
 powerful king, and he could do all those 
 things that you say the genii can, and a 
 great many more. He could lift up moun 
 tains, if he chose ; he could raise up all 
 the great waves of the sea, and make 
 dreadful storms, if he only spoke to them ; 
 and as to bringing up pearls and dia 
 monds, he knew where every pearl and 
 
FAIRY TALES. 87 
 
 diamond was to be found, that is any 
 where in the world, or even down at the 
 bottom of the ocean, or in the deep, dark 
 caves in the middle of the earth ; and he 
 could bring them all up only by speaking 
 to them." 
 
 " Where did he live, papa ? " 
 
 "0, far off up, up in the sky; be 
 yond the stars was his home ; there he 
 had a beautiful palace." 
 
 " 0, do tell us about it." 
 
 "Well, then, the walls of the palace 
 were built of jasper " 
 
 " I have read something like this in the 
 Arabian Nights," said Edward. 
 
 " But I don t know what jasper is," said 
 Mary. 
 
 "A very clear, bright crimson stone," 
 said her father ; " and it was polished till 
 it shone like a looking glass ; then every 
 door in the palace was made of one 
 whole pearl." 
 
 "What wonderful pearls they must 
 have been ! " said Mary, 
 
88 FAIRY TALES. 
 
 " 0, such things are very common in 
 these stories," said Edward. 
 
 " So you may think," said his father. 
 " How beautifully all these doors would 
 look, carved out of white, glistening 
 pearl ! " 
 
 "And had they gold hinges?" asked 
 Edward. 
 
 " No doubt," said his father. Then all 
 the foundations of the palace were set 
 full of sparkling, precious stones ; for 
 instance, one foundation stone would be 
 full of diamonds, and the next would 
 be of bright yellow topaz, and the next 
 would be sparkling green emeralds, and 
 the next would be clear, blue sapphires, 
 and so on, all the colors you could think 
 of, so that the foundation looked like a 
 dazzling rainbow." 
 
 " 0, this is a real fairy story," said Ed 
 ward ; " better than any I ever heard." 
 
 " Then," said his father, " this palace 
 was not one small house, such as we live 
 in. In Europe, where the kings have 
 
FAIRY TALES. 89 
 
 palaces, they often take up two or three 
 squares of a city ; but this palace is a 
 city itself; it has streets through it, and 
 these streets are paved with gold, and 
 the gold is polished so smooth and clear 
 that it is just like a looking glass, so that 
 you can see every thing in it." 
 
 " And who lives there ? " asked Edward. 
 
 " 0, all sorts of beautiful spirits ; you 
 know I told you that this was a Spirit 
 King," said his father. 
 
 " But you have not told us any thing 
 about the king ; was he very beautiful ? " 
 
 " Yes, my boy, he was very beautiful ; 
 so beautiful that those who saw him 
 among all these splendid things forgot to 
 look at them, and looked only at him." 
 
 How did he look ? " 
 
 "That I cannot tell you. It is said 
 that his robes were all dazzling and bright 
 I can only tell you that he was more 
 beautiful than all the most beautiful 
 things you ever saw together." 
 
90 FAIRY TALES. 
 
 " Well, papa,, and what about those chil 
 dren ? " 
 
 "Why, there were two little children 
 once, and this great king was their father. 
 They never had seen him." 
 
 " Never seen their father ! How strange ! 
 Did he love them ? " 
 
 66 Yes ; he loved them very dearly, and 
 took excellent care of them, as you shall 
 hear." 
 
 " But pray where did these children 
 live ? " 
 
 " What should you say if I told you 
 that you were these children ? " 
 
 "We, father?" 
 
 " Yes, my children ; have you never 
 heard of a Spirit King, who covers him 
 self with light as a garment, who stretches 
 out the heavens as a curtain, who layeth 
 the beams of his chambers in the waters, 
 who maketh the clouds his chariot, and 
 walketh upon the wings of the wind ? " 
 
 u 0, papa, we know now" said the chil 
 dren. 
 
FAIRY TALES. 91 
 
 "But that is out of the Bible," said 
 Edward ; u I have read it a great many 
 times. I thought you were telling a fairy 
 story." 
 
 " And what is that about his palace ? " 
 said Mary. 
 
 "Do you not remember the twenty- 
 first of Revelation, where the beautiful 
 city is described ? And her light was 
 like unto a jasper stone, clear as crystal, 
 and the building of the wall of it was of 
 jasper, and the foundation of the walls of 
 the city were garnished with all manner 
 of precious stones, and the twelve gates 
 were twelve pearls, each separate gate of 
 one pearl, and the street of the city was 
 pure gold, as it were transparent glass, " 
 
 u 0, yes ; I remember," said Mary. 
 
 " Well, now, my dears," said their father, 
 tt I want you to remember one thing. 
 There is nothing that you read of in 
 fairy stories that is as strange and won 
 derful as what is true about you children." 
 
 "About us, papa?" 
 
92 FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Yes, my children; you arc children 
 of One greater than any spirit king ; you 
 have a Father who knows every thing, 
 and can do every thing, and who can 
 make more beautiful things in an hour 
 than ever you read of in any fairy tale ; 
 and you will live as long as he does 
 forever." 
 
 The little children looked at their fa 
 ther with a serious air ; they were struck 
 with the tone in which he pronounced 
 the word forever. 
 
 "But," added their father, "you will 
 not only live as long as God lives, but 
 you may become yourselves more beauti 
 ful, and bright, and glorious than the sun 
 or stars in yonder sky." 
 
 Does the Bible say so, father ? " said 
 Mary. 
 
 " You know," said their father, " that 
 our Saviour says, when speaking of the 
 day of judgment, Then shall the righteous 
 shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of 
 
 o 
 
 their Father; and it is said in Daniel, 
 
FAIRY TALES. 93 
 
 xii. 6, And many of them that sleep in 
 the dust of the earth shall awake, some 
 to everlasting life, and some to shame 
 and everlasting contempt/ And they 
 that are wise shall shine as the brightness 
 of the firmament, and they that turn 
 many to righteousness as the stars for 
 ever. Now, my little ones, I do not for 
 bid your reading these wonderful fairy 
 tales, but I want you to remember, when 
 you read the strangest and most wonder 
 ful things that are told in them, that 
 things more strange, more wonderful, are 
 true with regard to you. To have a Fa 
 ther in heaven, to have a soul that never 
 can die, to hope, through your Saviour, 
 to live forever in heaven, is more won 
 derful than all the wonders of fairy land." 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 ONE bright morning, when the yellow 
 dandelions were shining out like so many 
 gold dollars in the green grass, and the 
 brooks were chattering and purling to each 
 other, and small eyebrights were looking 
 up from the turf like flocks of little white 
 sheep, a little boy, whom we shall call 
 Jamie, found, all of a sudden, that his 
 school had stopped, and he had come to 
 the first day of his vacation. 
 
 So says Jamie to himself, " What shall 
 I do all day long?" After a while he 
 thought he would take a basket, and go 
 over into a neighboring field, and gather 
 gome eyebrights and violets to dress 
 flower vases for his mamma. 
 
 Well, over the fence he went, and wan 
 dered far off into the field; and there he 
 met two strange boys, larger than he, 
 
 (94) 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 95 
 
 whose names were Will Drake and Charles 
 Jones. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " said one of the boys to him ; 
 a come along with us we are going to 
 have fun. We have got our pockets full 
 of stories, and we are going to kill birds 
 with them ; it s the best fun in the world." 
 
 Now, Jamie was a thoughtless little 
 fellow, and when another boy asked him 
 to do a thing, at it he went at once, without 
 so much as thinking whether it was right 
 or not; so he filled his pockets with 
 stones, and began running and shouting 
 with the other boys. " Hulloa ! there s a 
 chipping bird/ said one ; " I ll hit him." 
 " Look at that robin ! " bawled another ; 
 " send a stone at him. 0, there s a blue 
 bird ! now for him ! " I am happy to say 
 that these boys missed their hits, gener 
 ally, for they had much worse intentions 
 than they had skill to execute. 
 
 While they were thus running about, 
 a nice white cat came stepping along the 
 top of a fence, putting down her paws as 
 
96 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 daintily as any lady. "Hulloa! there s a 
 cat ; now for fun/ shouted Will Drake, as 
 he let fly a stone, and then clashed after 
 the cat. Puss was frightened, and scam 
 pered with all her might ; and all three of 
 the boys joined chase after her, and came 
 tumbling, one after another, over the 
 back yard fence of the place where Jamie 
 lived. 
 
 Now, Jamie s mother had been sitting 
 at her window watching the whole affair ; 
 and now she stood up, and called, in a 
 very quiet way, " Jamie, come up here ; I 
 have something to show you." 
 
 The other two boys slunk away a lit 
 tle. Jamie came up into his mother s 
 room, all panting and hot, and began 
 "Mamma, what do you want to show 
 me?" 
 
 Now Jamie s mamma was a very kind 
 and tender-hearted woman, and nothing 
 seemed more dreadful to her than cruelty 
 to any animal. Now, some mothers, who 
 felt as she did, would have seized Jamie 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 97 
 
 by the arm, and said, " Here, you naughty 
 boy ; I saw you stoning birds over in the 
 lot ; if you ever do such a thing again, I 
 shall punish you." But Jamie s mother 
 had reflected about these things, and made 
 up her mind that when little boys did 
 cruel things, it was more because they 
 were thoughtless, than because they at 
 heart were cruel ; and, therefore, instead 
 of blaming him harshly, she set out to 
 make him think. 
 
 So, when Jamie came in, she washed 
 his heated face and hands, and then 
 took from a drawer a small black box, 
 which she wound up with a key like a 
 watch-key. As soon as the box was set 
 down, it began to play a most beautiful 
 tune, and Jamie was astonished and de 
 lighted. 
 
 " What a curious box ! " said he ; " who 
 did make it ? " 
 
 " I do not know," suid his mother ; " but 
 why do you think it is curious ? " 
 
 " Why, it is curious to see a musical 
 7 
 
98 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 instrument shut up in such a little box. 
 Why, I could carry this about in my 
 pocket. I wish twas mine, and I d set it 
 a-going, and put it in my pocket, some 
 day, and then I could make the boys 
 stare." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " if you think it 
 strange to see a musical instrument put 
 in a little box, what would you think if I 
 could tell you of one which was put in a 
 bird s throat?" 
 
 66 In a bird s throat ! " said Jamie ; " who 
 ever heard of such a thing ? " 
 
 " Well," answered his mother, " there is 
 a boy in this room who has been listen 
 ing this morning to a little instrument 
 which is inside of a bird s throat, and 
 which can make sweeter music than this 
 box ; and yet he did not seem to wonder 
 at it at all." 
 
 Jamie looked wondering at his mother. 
 " When you went into the fields, did you 
 not hear robins and blue-birds playing 
 on little instruments in their throats, and 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 99 
 
 making all sorts of sweet sounds ? Look 
 now at your little Canary bird hanging 
 in the window, and see when he sings 
 how his throat trembles." 
 
 " 0, I know what you mean now/ 
 said Jamie ; " you mean my little Canary 
 bird is like a music box. "Well, but what 
 sort of an instrument has he got in his 
 throat ? I m sure I don t know." 
 
 " Why, he has a little, fine, soft flute, 
 that can play as many notes as a piano." 
 
 "A flute in his throat," said Jamie, 
 laughing ; " what a funny idea ! " 
 
 " It is even so," said his mother. " The 
 little pipe through which the Canary bird 
 plays his tunes is more curiously made 
 than any flutes which any instrument 
 maker ever formed ; it is so small, yet so 
 perfect ; it fits into his throat so easily as 
 never to interrupt his eating or breath 
 ing ; and it turns whichever way he bends 
 his head. Now, did you ever hear of any 
 musical instrument that was as curious as 
 this ? " 
 
100 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 "Now, it is strange," said Jamie; "I 
 might have heard a bird sing a month, 
 and never have thought of all this ; but 
 now I do think of it, it seems very curi 
 ous. 
 
 "But, mother, what is this little flute 
 made of?" 
 
 " It is made of little elastic rings." 
 
 66 Elastic ! what is that ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " Why, like India rubber, springy and 
 easily bent ; and its being made of so 
 many little elastic rings is the reason why 
 he can turn and bend his throat without 
 any inconvenience, which he could not 
 do if it were a straight, stiff pipe, like a 
 flute. 
 
 "But," continued his mother, "these 
 little bright eyes that your bird has are 
 more wonderful than any thing I have 
 yet told you of; but the contrivance is so 
 very complicated that I do not think I 
 can make you understand it." 
 
 " What is complicated ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " The machinery in the inside of my 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 101 
 
 watch is complicated ; that is, it is made up 
 of a great many parts which answer many 
 different purposes. And there is a ma 
 chinery inside of one of those little birds 
 eyes that is more complicated still." 
 
 " What, that little dot of an eye, not 
 bigger than a pin head ? " 
 
 " Well, let me tell you ; inside of that 
 little eye is a contrivance by which, when 
 the bird is looking at you, an exact pic 
 ture of you is painted on the back of his 
 eye." 
 
 " It must be a very small picture," said 
 Jamie. 
 
 66 Of course it is," said his mother, " but 
 still it is a picture exactly like you ; every 
 line and every color in your face is 
 painted exactly on the back of that little 
 eye." 
 
 " Pray, how is it done ? " said Jamie. 
 
 " That, my dear boy, is the machinery 
 which I told you was so complicated that 
 I cannot hope to make you understand 
 it. There is a contrivance just like it in 
 
102 A TALK ABOUT BIKDS. 
 
 your own eye, and in the eye of every 
 animal ; but it is more curious in a bird s 
 eye, because it is so very small." 
 
 "What, do we all have pictures painted 
 on the back of our eyes? Is that the 
 way we see ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is the way ; and when you 
 are older you will be able to understand 
 the wonderful and beautiful contrivance 
 by which this is done. It has cost learned 
 men much study to find it out, and they 
 have discovered that the way in which 
 the eye of a bird is made in some re 
 spects is more curious than our own." 
 
 "Well, mamma," said Jamie, "you have 
 convinced me of one thing ; and that is, 
 that there is a great deal more to be 
 learned about a little bird than I ever 
 supposed." 
 
 " But, Jamie, I have not yet told you 
 half. Every bone in this little bird s body 
 is as carefully made and finished as if 
 that bone were the only thing the Creator 
 had to make ; and the joints of them are 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 103 
 
 curiously contrived, so that the little fel 
 low can hop, and spring, and turn all 
 day, and yet nothing grates or gets out 
 of order. They all move so springy and 
 easily, that I doubt whether he ever 
 thought that he had a joint in his body 
 or not. Then he has contrivances in 
 his little stomach for dissolving his food, 
 and turning it into blood, and he has 
 blood vessels to carry it all over his body, 
 and he has nerves to feel with, and he 
 has muscles to move with." 
 
 "Now, mother, I don t know what 
 nerves and muscles are," said Jamie. 
 
 u Nerves are what you feel with. You 
 eat, and the nerves of your mouth give 
 you your taste. The nerves of your nose 
 give you smell. The nerves of your eyes 
 see, and the nerves of your ears enable 
 you to hear, and the nerves that cover 
 your whole body enable you to feel. 
 These nerves all come from a very large 
 nerve, that runs down through the mid 
 dle of your back bone, and which is com- 
 
104 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 monly called the spinal marrow ; and they 
 go through the whole body, dividing and 
 branching out, till they form a network 
 covering over the whole of it, so that you 
 cannot put the point of a pin any where 
 without touching a nerve." 
 
 " Mother, has a bird just such nerves?" 
 
 a Very much the same." 
 
 " And what are muscles ? " 
 
 "Did you never pull a piece of lean 
 meat into little strings ? " said his mother. 
 
 " Yes," said Jamie. 
 
 " Well, a muscle is a bundle of such 
 little strings, and these strings generally 
 end in a strong, tough cord, called a ten 
 don. This muscle has the power of shrink 
 ing up short, like India rubber; and when 
 it shrinks it pulls the tendon, and the 
 tendon pulls whatever it is fastened to. 
 I can show you some tendon in a moment. 
 Pull the back of your hand ; don t you 
 find that there is a tough, hard cord runs 
 down from every finger ? these are ten- 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 105 
 
 dons. Now take hold tight round your 
 arm, and shut up your hand." 
 
 Jamie did so, and exclaimed, "0, 
 mother, when I shut up my hand, I feel 
 something move up here by my elbow." 
 
 " That is the muscle," said his mother ; 
 "you feel it drawing up short, and it pulls 
 the tendons, and these tendons pull down 
 your fingers." 
 
 Jamie amused himself some time with 
 opening and shutting his hand, and then 
 he said, 
 
 " Well, are all the movements that we 
 make done in the same way, by muscles 
 and tendons?" 
 
 "Yes," said his mother, "and all the 
 motions of the animals. There are dozens 
 and dozens of muscles, shrinking, and 
 stretching, and pulling about in little 
 Cherry every few moments, and yet none 
 of them wear out, or break, or get out of 
 order, or give him the least trouble." 
 
 " I guess Cherry don t think much 
 about them," said Jamie, as he watched 
 
106 A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 
 
 the little fellow hopping about in his 
 cage. 
 
 "Poor little Cherry," said his mother, 
 "he cannot understand how much God 
 has done for him, with what watchful care 
 he has made his little body, how carefully 
 he has guarded it from all kinds of suf 
 fering, and how many beautiful contri 
 vances there are in it to make him 
 happy." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Jamie ; " if he did he 
 would love God." 
 
 " Well, Jamie," said his mother, " how 
 should you feel, if you had contrived 
 some curious and beautiful little play 
 thing, and just as you had it all nicely 
 finished ofi^ some boy should come along 
 with a great stick, and knock it all to 
 pieces ? " 
 
 " Feel ? " said Jamie ; " why, I should be 
 mad enough." 
 
 "And suppose that some gentleman 
 should invite you and two or three other 
 boys to his house, and should show you 
 
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS. 107 
 
 into a large hall fall of most beautiful 
 pictures, and looking glasses, and flowers, 
 and every kind of beautiful things, and 
 you should amuse yourselves with break 
 ing his looking glasses, and beating dow r n 
 his flowers, and pulling to pieces all his 
 curious and beautiful things ; how do you 
 think he would feel?" 
 
 Why, I should think he would feel 
 very angry, to b$ sure." 
 
 " Well, Jamie, when little boys go out 
 into the woods and fields which God has 
 filled with beautiful trees and flowers, and 
 with hundreds of little happy birds, all so 
 curiously and beautifully made, and amuse 
 themselves only with throwing stones at 
 them, and killing them, must not God be 
 displeased ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I should think he must," 
 said Jamie. After a few minutes, he added, 
 " And it is a great deal worse to kill little 
 birds than it is to break looking glasses, 
 and such things, because little birds can 
 feel, you know." 
 
108 THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 " Yes/ said his mother, " and the care 
 with which God has made them shows 
 how much he has thought about them, 
 and how careful he has been to do all he 
 can to make them happy. The Bible 
 says, his tender mercies are over all his 
 works ; he is not merely good to every 
 thing, but he is tender and careful in all 
 he does, as a mother is tender in taking 
 care of a little helpless infant. Now," 
 said his mamma, " I am going to read you 
 a little story." 
 
 IT was a bright and beautiful morning 
 in April. The snows had melted into the 
 little brooks, and the little brooks ran rat 
 tling and gurgling about among the green, 
 mossy stones. The violet had opened its 
 fair blue eyes to look forth from its tufts 
 of leaves ; the broad blades of the water 
 flag and the blue lily were shooting up 
 fresh and green; the yellow dandelions 
 spotted the grass, and tufts of golden 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 109 
 
 cowslips grew close by the water. The 
 little leaves had just begun to show them 
 selves, and looked like a thin green veil 
 spread over the trees. The little birds 
 had come back a long way through the 
 air from the various countries where they 
 had been spending the w r inter, and were 
 filling the whole air with music. 
 
 On a mossy rail, a part of the orchard 
 fence, sat two beautiful bluebirds enjoy 
 ing the bright sunshine, and twittering 
 and chattering to each other with all their 
 might. This little pair of birds, the last 
 year, had made their nest in this very or 
 chard, and brought up a whole family of 
 little birds. All winter they had been 
 chirping about and enjoying themselves 
 among the warm, sunny valleys of the 
 Bahama Isles ; and now they had come 
 back again to go to house keeping in the 
 old orchard. 
 
 In the very middle of this peaceful or 
 chard was a spreading apple tree, whose 
 bending branches almost touched the 
 
110 THE NEST IN THE ORCHAKD. 
 
 ground all around. The tall grass and 
 clover grew up so high under this tree as 
 to mix with the leaves and fruit on the end 
 of these boughs, and underneath there 
 was a delicious cool little room, roofed by 
 the branches, where all summer long no 
 creature had admission but the birds, and 
 the little flies, and the honey bees for 
 this tree stood in the very middle of the 
 orchard, and Farmer Brown kept good 
 watch that no boys should get into it to 
 trample down the long grass before mow 
 ing time. Well, in the trunk of this old 
 tree, just where the branches parted, 
 was a snug little hole. It was exactly 
 big enough for a bird to build its nest in, 
 and it was so situated that any one stand 
 ing under the tree and looking up could 
 not have thought of there being any hole 
 there. A safer little house for a bird 
 could never have been found ; and here 
 these little birds had concluded to build 
 their nest. 
 
 So they set to work and picked out all 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. Ill 
 
 * 
 
 the rubbish and dry sticks that had fallen 
 into the hole, and after they had nicely 
 cleaned it out, they laid the foundation 
 of their little house with small twigs, 
 which they plastered firmly together with 
 mud ; then they picked up straw and hay 
 for the next layer, and wove them into 
 a little round nest; and after that they 
 flew all over the neighborhood to pick 
 up all the stray feathers, and soft bits of 
 wool or moss that they could find, to line 
 the inside and make it soft and warm. 
 
 It took these little birds two or three 
 days before their nest was finished. But 
 on the evening of the third day, just as the 
 long, bright, beams of the setting sun were 
 darting between the apple trees of the 
 old orchard, the two little birds might 
 have been seen chirping and chatting 
 together over their finished nest in the 
 happiest manner in the world. 
 
 " What a lucky thing it was, my dear," 
 said the little wife, " that you found such 
 a snug hole ! I am sure nobody will ever 
 
112 THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 find us out here. We can fly all about 
 under this great tree, and nobody will ever 
 see us or suspect what we are doing." 
 
 " And, my dear/ said the little husband, 
 u I am delighted with your weaving here, 
 in the inside of the house. How nicely 
 you have worked in that little bit of red 
 silk on one side ! I had no idea, when the 
 good woman swept that piece out of 
 doors, that you could make so much of 
 it. Then how soft and warm the wool 
 is. Ah, very few bluebirds can make a 
 handsomer nest than this." 
 
 "Yes," said the wife, "and there is 
 almost a yard of lace woven into it. I 
 picked it off from a bush, where an old 
 lady had hung it on purpose for me." 
 
 When the old apple tree began to put 
 forth its pink buds, after a few days five 
 little blue eggs made their appearance in 
 the nest, and then the mother bird began 
 to sit ; while her mate spent all his time 
 either in flying about to look up food for 
 her, or perching about in different parts 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 113 
 
 of the tree, and entertaining her with his 
 music. At length the buds on the old 
 tree opened, and it grew white with fra 
 grant blossoms, and five little downy 
 birds were to be seen in the nest. No 
 body can say how delighted both parents 
 were. They carefully picked out all the 
 broken bits of the eggs from their nest, 
 and then, while one Would sit with wings 
 outspread to keep the little creatures 
 warm, the other would range about and 
 get flies and worms to feed them. Little 
 birds are amazingly hungry ; and when 
 either parent returned with food, you 
 might have seen five little red mouths 
 gaping wide open, all ready to receive 
 their portion. And when their hunger 
 was fully satisfied, the mother would nes 
 tle over them with her warm feathers, 
 and the father bird would sit beside her, 
 and they would admire the beautiful sheet 
 of white blossoms over their heads, and 
 have long talks about their little family, 
 and how soon they would be learning to 
 8 
 
114 THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 fly, and then what journeys they would 
 take with them, and what good times they 
 would have. 
 
 One beautiful morning, while the dew 
 drops were yet twinkling among the blos 
 soms, the father bird prepared to go on 
 one of his voyages after food. He bade 
 good morning to his little family in a 
 sweet song, which he sung on the highest 
 branch of the apple tree, and then soared 
 off into the blue sky, as happy a little 
 bird as ever was seen. 
 
 Just at the same time, a man with a 
 large bag tied about his neck, and a long 
 gun in his hand, made his appearance in 
 the fields. Pretty soon he saw our poor 
 little bluebird, as he was sitting on the 
 top of a tree with a worm in his mouth, 
 which he was just going to carry home to 
 his family. 
 
 So he drew up his gun and fired, and 
 down fell the poor little bluebird. The 
 man walked to the spot and picked him 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 115 
 
 U p the shot had gone through his head, 
 and he was quite dead. 
 
 K What could he want to shoot the little 
 birds for ?" said Jamie. 
 
 "My dear boy, some people have an 
 absurd way of thinking that birds will 
 injure the fruit; and as there were one or 
 two ripe cherry trees in this orchard, the 
 man thought they would get his cherries. 
 It is a very foolish idea ; for little birds, 
 in fact, do more good by devouring the 
 grubs and insects that injure trees and 
 plants, than all the harm they can do by 
 helping themselves now and then to a 
 little fruit." 
 
 Well, it came noon, and the mother 
 bird remained in the old apple tree, still 
 brooding and tending her little ones, and 
 wondering that their poor father did not 
 return as he had promised. Very soon 
 the long shadows stretched to the east, 
 and showed that the afternoon was far 
 spent; and still he did not return, and 
 
116 THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 the mother bird wondered, and the little 
 birds began to call for their food. So the 
 mother left the little birds, and went to 
 the top of the tree, and began to call on 
 her husband ; but she could not make him 
 hear. She fluttered around among the 
 trees of the orchard, looking for him, and 
 calling him ; but in vain. Then she picked 
 up some food for her little ones, and re 
 turned home weary and sad. The dark 
 night came, but no kind father returned. 
 And in the morning there was no merry 
 song in the old tree, for the father was 
 gone and the mother was silent. But she 
 used to fly about in the orchard picking 
 up food for her little ones as well as she 
 was able. 
 
 While she was thus flying about one 
 day, the same man, with the gun on his 
 shoulder, came spying about the old or 
 chard, for he had said that it was an 
 excellent place to shoot birds. Pretty 
 soon he saw the poor mother picking 
 worms from a mossy rail, and pointed his 
 gun at her. The shot struck her wing 
 
THE NEST IN THE ORCHARD, 117 
 
 and went into her side ; but still she was 
 not killed ; and all bleeding as she was, 
 she thought she would try to get home 
 to her little ones once more. When she 
 came to the old apple tree, her little 
 strength was quite spent her feathers 
 were dripping with blood ; and when she 
 had put the food she had gathered into 
 their mouths, she fell down at the foot 
 of the tree. She fluttered a few mo 
 ments, and then her soft little eyes closed, 
 and the poor mother bird was dead. 
 
 A great while after, when the old apple 
 tree was loaded with bright yellow apples, 
 the farmer s men mowed the grass under 
 the tree, and one of the boys thought he 
 would go up and shake off some apples. 
 While he was climbing, he put his hand 
 into the hole and found our bird s nest. 
 
 He drew it out, and there were five 
 little dead birds in it ! So much for shoot 
 ing little birds ! 
 

 
 2&L 
 
 RECTDJ-D 
 
 1965 
 
 ___ INJiRHBRARY 
 
 9- 
 
 ,D 2lA-60rn-4, 64 
 (E4555slO)476B 
 
 Berkeley 
 
U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 CDSSESS533