■"^S 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 
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 ^•^scx:: 
 
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 THE 
 STORY OF A NEEDLE
 
 A black stream was flowing down on the carpei. 
 
 Page 2q.
 
 "THE STORY OF A 
 
 NEEDLE fe, BY A. L o. E. 
 
 LONDON, EDIN'BURGH, 
 DUBLIN, AND NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS NELSON 
 AND SONS
 
 PR 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE STORY OF A NEEDLE:— 
 
 
 I. My Education . . . . . • 
 
 9 
 
 //. Jlfy First Adventure . . . . . 
 
 14 
 
 ///. Conversation in a Work-box 
 
 21 
 
 IV. A Mother's Delights .... 
 
 26 
 
 V. A Perfect Metal . , . . , 
 
 35 
 
 VI. A Piece of Mischief .... 
 
 40 
 
 VII Tlie lively Metal . ... 
 
 48 
 
 VIII. Packing the Box 
 
 54 
 
 IX. Gold on a Dark Ground 
 
 . 63 
 
 X. The School-boy's Return .... 
 
 72 
 
 XI Home Hints c . , ... 
 
 79 
 
 XII. The Story of a Needle and a Compass . 
 
 . 90 
 
 XIII Gold brought to the Proof 
 
 100 
 
 XIV. Conclusion ...... 
 
 . Ill 
 
 GLORY 
 
 120 
 
 THE VICTORY 
 
 . 130 
 
 BEARING BURDENS . . o . . . 
 
 147 
 
 765381
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 A black stream ivas fiowing down on the carpet. Frontispiece 
 
 "■ Mamma, please, ivill you lay down the hem for meV 
 
 said Lily ........ 27 
 
 Eddy was delighted with his teacher, , , . 80 
 
 Eddy tells his story . , « . . « .116
 
 THE STORY OF A NEEDLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY EDUCATION. 
 
 REALLY can say nothing of my ear- 
 liest days except from report. I have 
 heard, but I can hardly believe it, 
 that I was once part of a rough mass 
 of iron ore, that had lain for ages in 
 a dark mine in Cornwall ; that I was dug out, 
 and put into a huge furnace, and heated till I 
 became red-hot, and melted ; that I was made 
 into part of an iron bar, and when in a fiery 
 glow was suddenly plunged into cold water, 
 which changed my whole constitution and 
 name, for iron was thenceforth called steel. I 
 can just fancy how the water fizzed and hissed,
 
 10 FACTS ASD FANCIES. 
 
 and how my fiery flush faded suddenly away, 
 and I became again quite black in the face ! I 
 can fancy all this, as I said, but I really re- 
 member nothing about it 
 
 Nor have I any recollection of being drawn 
 out into wire, forced to push myself through 
 little holes, smaller and smaller, till I was long 
 enough and slim enough for the purpose for 
 which the manufacturer designed me. My 
 very earliest remembrance is of finding myself 
 lying on an anvil, along with thousands of 
 others of my species. But you must not fancy 
 me then, gentle reader, in the least like the 
 neat, trim, bright Uttle article that now has the 
 pleasure of addressing you. 1 fancy that I 
 looked uncommonly like a bit of steel wire, 
 neither useful nor ornamental 
 
 While I lay quietly reflecting in a kind of 
 dull, sleepy doze, for at that time I was not 
 sharp at all, a violent blow on one end of me 
 startled me not a little — I had been hit on 
 that side as flat as a pancake ! 
 
 "What next?" thought I. I had little 
 time for thinking. I wavS popped into the fiie 
 in a minute, but taken out again before I had
 
 KARtT RECOLLKOTIONS. U 
 
 time to melt Then down came another blow 
 upon me, which had quite a different effect 
 from the first. It pierced out a little hole in 
 my flat head, and I received the advantage of 
 having an eye. No sooner did I possess it than 
 I began to use it. I peered around me with 
 much curiosity, now on the long brick building 
 in which I found myself ; now on the rough 
 care-worn faces of the workmen, reddened by 
 the glow of the fire-light ; now on the multi- 
 tude of baby needles around me, all looking up 
 with their little round eyes. 
 
 T was now placed upon a block of lead, and 
 my eye was punched to bring out the little bit 
 of steel, which was neither tidy nor convenient. 
 Then, to improve the shape of my flat head, it 
 was filed a little on both sides. 
 
 I felt now tolerably well satisfied with my- 
 self — something like a child (for I have since 
 seen a good deal of the world} when it has 
 mastered the first diflficulties of learning, and 
 begins to fancy itself a genius. But there was 
 a good deal more of filing, and heating, and pol- 
 ishing before mo ; education is a slow and trouble- 
 some matter, whether to children or needles !
 
 12 OISOIPLUiTS J>lSD KINDNKS8. 
 
 I am aliaid that I should tire you, deai 
 reader, were I to give you the whole story of 
 how I was filed into a point ; how I thought 
 the file hard, disagreeable, and rough, as man}' 
 young folk have thought their teachers ; how 1 
 was then heated in a fire till I grew as red as 
 naughty boys who have been caned by their 
 master ; then left to cool in a basin of cold 
 water, like the same boys shut up to think 
 over the matter. 
 
 Then I and a number of my companions 
 were held in a shovel over the fire, and stirred 
 about, and then straightened with blows of the 
 hammer. I thought that I must now be quite 
 perfect ; but never was needle more mistaken. 
 How could I go through linen, cloth, and silk 
 — how could young gentlemen and ladies go 
 through the world — without a proi)er degree of 
 polish ! Thousands of us were put on a piece 
 of buckram sprinkled with emery dust ; more 
 emery dust was thrown over us, and then a 
 small quantity of oil ; for I wish that every 
 teacher would remember that though the emery 
 of discipline is necessary enough, it works best 
 when laid on with the sweet oil of kindness
 
 MY EDUCATION FINISHED. 13 
 
 Oh, if 1 could only describe the rolling back- 
 wards and forwards, the rubbing and scrubbing 
 again and again, the washing, the wiping, the 
 smoothing on a stone, thought necessary to 
 complete a good needle ! Depend upon it, dear 
 reader, your reading and writing, your sums 
 and your tables, nay, even the terrible dog's- 
 eared grammar, are nothing to what the small- 
 est needle must go through before it is fit to 
 appear in the world !
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 MY FIRST ADVENTURE. 
 
 [UR education being now finished, two 
 hundi'ed and fifty of us were packed 
 up together, and remained in dark- 
 neas and seclusion for some time. We 
 were then removed, separated, and in 
 smaller numbers placed in neat little dark- 
 coloured papers, and kept in a box in a shop. 
 Of all the tiresome pai'ts of my life, this was 
 the most tiresome by far. 1 longed for the 
 moment when I should be taken from the 
 prison, and see a little of the world, I was 
 quite discontented with my state. 
 
 "Why was I made, if not to be used?" 
 thought I. " Why have I undergone all this 
 heating, hitting, and polishing? why am I so 
 sharp, so neat, so bright, if not to make some
 
 mamma's gift. 19 
 
 figure in the world ?" I was only a young 
 needle, you see, and impatience is natural to 
 youth : I am not the only one who has found 
 it hard to stay contentedly in the position in 
 which he has been placed. 
 
 At length I felt myself moved (you know 
 that 1 could see nothing out of my paper). I 
 believe that I had been bought and sold ; and 
 though not at once released from my confine- 
 ment, I felt reasonable hopes that I soon should 
 be so. Nor were my expectations disappointed. 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! dear mamma ! what a sweet 
 little work-box — and aU fitted up so nicely !" 
 exclaimed a childish voice near me. I longed 
 to have a peep at the speaker. 
 
 " I hope that it may assist my Lily to be a 
 tidy, useful little girl, such as her mother would 
 wish to see her." 
 
 " What a pretty silver thimble ! and it fiis 
 me exactly ; just see ! You've left a place for 
 my scissors, as I have a nice pair already. 
 What neat, tiny reels ! — and what's this ? a 
 yard measure — ah ! and here is wax to make 
 my thread strong ! Thank you, dear mamma, 
 again and again '"
 
 1 6 AN INTERESTING SIGHT. 
 
 I confess that 1 waa rather in a state of irri- 
 tatioiL Nobody seemed to be thinking in the 
 least about me ; after all my finished education, 
 it was not thought worth while even to give 
 me a look. At length my paper was moved, 
 very roughly torn open, light jBashed upon its 
 contents, and 1 and my companions were scat- 
 tered in every direction, I alighting on the 
 Holland pinafore of a fair, chubby-faced boy, 
 who had been the author of the mischief 
 
 " Oh, Eddy ! you tiresome child ! if you 
 would only leave my box alone — just see what 
 you've done with my needles !" 
 
 I seized the opportunity of looking around 
 me, in no hurry for my resting-place to be dis- 
 covered. I found myself in a very comfortable 
 room, full of so many things to excite my 
 curiosity, that I felt as though I could have 
 gazed for ever ! But perhaps what interested 
 me most was my first sight of the human 
 beings who occupied the apartment. They 
 were so unlike the workmen to whom I had 
 been accustomed, that I examined them just as 
 a philosopher might examine some newly-dis- 
 covered curiosity.
 
 MY FUTURE MISTRESS. 17 
 
 In the first place, there was a gentle, blue- 
 eyed lady, who sat near the table on which the 
 work-box was placed ; while on her knee rested 
 a very plump little child, calmly engaged in 
 sucking her thumb. A girl of about ten years 
 of age (I knew nothing of ages then, and had 
 not a notion of anything growing, but I have 
 since learned much from observation) was on 
 her knees, searching for her needles. She was 
 evidently to be my future mistress, and I anxi- 
 ously glanced into her face to read what sort of 
 a child she might be. I scarcely knew whe- 
 ther her countenance pleased me or not She 
 had light eyes, like her mamma ; rather a 
 tumed-up little nose, which gave her a some- 
 what saucy expression ; and I am sorry to say 
 that, just at that moment, I saw on her brow 
 sundry creases, which did not give me an idea 
 of good temper. I know that it is a foolish 
 feeling of mine, but whenever I see those ugly 
 creases rising on the brow of a little boy or 
 girl, I always feel inclined to bestow on them 
 a little prick, just by way of good counsel, you 
 understand ! I have seen lines, and very deep 
 lines, made on the forehead by care ; I could 
 
 (559) 2
 
 18 MAKING BABY LAUGH. 
 
 just faintly trace some on that of Mrs. Eller- 
 slie ; they became only too distinct in the 
 course of time, but they never for a moment 
 altered the gentle expression of her face. 
 
 I think now that I hear her soft voice as 
 she said, — 
 
 "Oh, LiJy, do not be so much vexed with 
 your brother. You know that he is only a 
 little boy. Come, my Eddy, let us help to 
 look for the needles ; you must not touch the 
 papers again ! " 
 
 I cannot say much for Eddy's skill or indus- 
 try in the search ; he was much more intent 
 on making baby laugh by snapping his fingei-s 
 and grinning at her, turning his head know- 
 ingly first on one side, then on the other, till 
 he succeeded in drawing from her a merry crow, 
 and a smile showed her little toothless gums. 
 
 Such success elated Eddy, and, determined 
 to press a good kiss on that sweet little mouth, 
 he came close — too close to her, alas ! for he 
 caused me to inflict, I am sorry to confess it, a 
 very tiny scratch on the baby's plump white 
 ann. 
 
 You should have heard what a scream she
 
 A BAD BEGINNIKG. 19 
 
 set up 1 I really felt quite embarrassed : was 
 this to be the commencement of my career, was 
 I to begin my services by mischief? You 
 must consider also, gentle reader, that my as- 
 tonishment was very great at the effect pro- 
 duced by my head simply rubbing against a 
 child's arm ! I myself, though not a thou- 
 sandth part of the size of the baby, had borne 
 hammering, bruising, and battering, not only in 
 silence, but with little inconvenience ; and here 
 the smallest touch seemed to excite terror and 
 pain such as had never even entered into my 
 fkncy. Ah ! I soon found how very different 
 the human species is from ours ; how easily 
 their tender flesh is wounded, and — what I 
 thought still more strange — how easily their 
 feehngs are pained ! It has seemed to me, 
 from what I have observed in life, and from 
 what I have heard from companions of my 
 own, possessing greater experience, that there 
 are some human beings whose great business 
 seems to be, pricking and paining the hearts of 
 those around them ; as if life were not full enough 
 of sorrows without our wilfully bringing them 
 upon our neighbours.
 
 20 UNMERITED BLAME. 
 
 Eddy seemed much more penitent for having 
 hurt baby than for having overthrown Lily's 
 paper of needles, though the latter action had 
 been the cause of the former. He joined his 
 mother and sister in trying to soothe little 
 Rosey, and assured her so often that he was 
 " very, very sorry," and called her by so many 
 sweet names, " little pet, darling, and duck," 
 and kissed the scratched arm so often, that she 
 soon appeared quite pacified, I was not so 
 well pleased at the titles which he gave me, 
 throwing all the blame on " the naughty, ugly 
 needle," that had been the innocent cause of 
 her pain, I was rather in ill humour when 
 Lily hastily replaced me in the work-box, not 
 dreaming of putting me back in my paper, but 
 sticking me unceremoniously into the red silk 
 which lined the top of the box. And there I 
 was to remain, in company with other articles 
 of metal, with which I soon entered into ac- 
 quaintance ; for all the metals are naturally 
 related to each other, and I was able to make 
 myself understood by everything bearing the 
 nature of a mineral.
 
 CHAPTEfl in. 
 
 CONVERSATION IN A WORK-BOX. 
 
 'ELL, what do you think of your new 
 life ? " said the Scissors, as soon as 
 we were left quietly in the box. 
 Perhaps I had better pause for a 
 moment to describe my new com- 
 panion, before I record our conversation. 
 
 The pair of Scissors, with which I had now 
 to make acquaintance, had rather an old- 
 fashioned air. One end was rounded, the other 
 had been sharp, but a little piece had been 
 broken off the point. I fancy that I detected 
 on one of the handles something reddish, like a 
 little speck of rust, and the brightness of the 
 whole article was dimmed. This was doubt- 
 less a mark of antiquity, and it was in the pat- 
 ronizing manner of one who was awaxe of her
 
 22 BLAMING THK INNOOBNT. 
 
 own superiority, that Mrs. Scissors repeated her 
 question, " Pray, what do you think of your 
 new hfe ? " 
 
 " I have hardly had time to judge," was my 
 reply ; " but I am rather hurt at the way in 
 which that Httle boy laid the whole blame of 
 his own fault upon me." 
 
 " Oh, that is what you must always expect," 
 laughed the Scissors ; " a bad shearer never has 
 good shears. I've been these ten years in the 
 family, and I've always found it the same. 
 When Miss Lily took it into her head to imitate 
 the hairdresser, and practise upon Eddy's flaxen 
 poll, when I glanced aside, and snipped his little 
 ear, whose fault was that but 'the stupid 
 Scissors' ! ' And when I was seized upon to 
 open a nailed box, whose contents the young 
 lady was impatient to see, whose fault was 
 it when my poor point suddenly snapped ? 
 why, 'the good-for-nothing Scissors',' to be 
 sure." 
 
 " I hope that I shaU not be treated in such 
 a way," said I, rather alarmed at her words ; 
 " it would be too bad, after the trouble that has 
 been taken to form me, after having had to pass
 
 man's reason. 23 
 
 to perfection through so many hands, to be 
 snapped by a careless child." 
 
 " You would have nothing but the dust-hole 
 before you/' said the Scissors. I thought the 
 remark very unpleasant. 
 
 " I almost wish that I had remained in my 
 mine," sighed I. 
 
 " Oh no," said a soft voice beside me, and I 
 remarked a beautiful little Thimble, of a metal 
 unknown to me before, so bright, and white, 
 and shining, that I felt at once that it was of 
 superior nature. 
 
 " Would you wish," she continued, " to lie 
 useless, to be of no benefit to any ? Has not 
 man refined, formed, polished, improved you, 
 and exerted the powers of his reason to render 
 you an instrument of good ? " 
 
 " What has man's reason to do with us ? " 
 said I. 
 
 " I know not whether I can explain myself 
 clearly," replied the Thimble, " but I will en- 
 deavour to show you what I mean, Man has 
 been gifted with a power called reason ; by this 
 he governs the world, by this he subdues crea- 
 tures stronger than himself, and makes all things
 
 24 THE MOST USEFUL METAL. 
 
 combine to serve him. He has discovered that 
 iron possesses a strength which he may turn to 
 valuable account. It would be endless labour to 
 plough the fields, if the ground had to be torn 
 up by the hand ; it would be terrible work to 
 reap the com, if each blade had to be puUed off 
 by the fingers, Man determined to aid his 
 own weakness by the wonderful strength of 
 iron. He made the ploughshare, and the fur- 
 rows are turned up ; he made the sickle, and 
 the sheaves are gathered ; huge trees, which he 
 would never have had force to puU down, are 
 laid low by a few strokes of his axe." 
 
 There is no doubt but that ours is the most 
 useful metal by far," said the Scissors, with 
 something of a sneer. " Who would use plough- 
 shares, or sickles, or axes of silver ? Precious 
 little work they would do ! " 
 
 " I grant it," said the Thimble, with perfect 
 good-humour ; " but we aU have our place in 
 the world, we all have some good purpose to 
 fulfil Zinc, lead, tin, arsenic, platina, nickel — " 
 
 " Stop, stop," I exclaimed, overwhelmed with 
 such a list ; " I never knew there were so many 
 metals before."
 
 ■ Mamma, please, will you lay down the hem for me ? " 
 
 said Lily.
 
 METALS AND THEIR USES 25 
 
 " Nay," replied the Thimble gaily, " I have 
 not numbered one half of them, — 
 
 " Manganese, cobalt, rhodium, 
 Copper, potassium, sodium — " 
 
 " Who ever such names bestowed on 'em? 
 Such long names I hold in odium J " 
 
 cried I. 
 
 "There's rhyme, but not reason," laughed 
 the Thimble. 
 
 " If it is hard to number up the metals," I 
 observed, " how impossible must it be to count 
 aU the uses to which they are put ! " 
 
 "Impossible indeed," said the Thimble. "Man 
 avails himself every day, every hour, of the 
 treasures which he has won from the mine — for 
 
 " Ploughing, digging, and hoeing ; 
 Cooking, ironing, mowing ; 
 Cutting, sawing, and sewing ; 
 Holding the embers glowing ; 
 Speeding the vessel's going ; 
 Music, when horns are blowing ; 
 Money, when debts are owing ; 
 Bridges, where streams are flovtdng , 
 Lace, where finery's showing ; 
 Greenhouse, where plants are growing — " 
 
 " In short, thsre'a no counting or knowing 
 All that man to metals is owing 1 " 
 
 cried I.
 
 CKAFTEK IT 
 
 A mother's delights. 
 
 [EWING ! how I hate sewing ! 1 won- 
 der what use there is in my learning 
 to sew," exclaimed Lily, in rather a 
 fretful tone, as she took me out of the 
 box. 
 
 •' 1 wonder what's the use of learning to 
 spell ! " yawned little Eddy over a dog's-eared 
 book, as he sat on a stool close by his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Ellerslie was busy at her desk, examin- 
 ing her monthly accounts, with a grave and 
 anxious expression She was interrupted, in 
 the midst of summing up a long bill, by her 
 little girl bringing her work to her. 
 " Mamma — " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Ellerslie, without 
 raising her eyes, and continued murmuring haJf
 
 CARES AND TROUBLES. 27 
 
 aloud, " Thirteen pounds and a half at seven- 
 pence three-farthings — I thought there must be 
 an error somewhere." 
 
 " Mamma, please will you lay down the hem 
 for me ? " 
 
 " Really, my love, I am very busy at present. 
 I think that, after all the trouble which I have 
 taken to teach you, you might manage to do 
 that for yourself;" and again she went on with 
 her accounts ; whUe Lily, looking rather discon- 
 tented, slowly returned to her seat. 
 
 " Mamma," said Eddy, rising, and laying his 
 book on her knee, " I know my lesson." 
 
 " Wait a minute, my boy ; I will hear you 
 almost directly." 
 
 So Eddy waited cheerfully enough, and, to 
 amuse himself in the meantime, began trying to 
 mend his mother's pen, to the no small damage 
 of the pen, and the imminent risk of his own 
 fingera 
 
 " Oh, Eddy, put that knife down !" exclaimed 
 the harassed lady, when she had raised her 
 head for a moment to see the nature of his oc- 
 cupation. " Come, you had better say your 
 lesson at once," she continued, hopelessly laying
 
 28 KDDY AND HIS LESSON. 
 
 down the bill, and taking up the spelling book. 
 She was too gentle, too loving, to be irritable 
 or peevish; but petty cares and petty troubles 
 were wearing out her strength, and damping 
 the spirits which had once been so light. I 
 saw that though Mrs. Ellerslie fondly loved her 
 children, she could not help feeling them a 
 weariness to her ; and though they had much 
 affection for their mother, they had little con- 
 sideration for her comfort. 
 
 "Now, Eddy," said Mrs. Ellerslie, as the 
 little gentleman stood with his arms pressed 
 down to his sides before her, " how do you speU 
 the word pan ? " 
 
 "B-o-y," replied Eddy, with emphasis. 
 
 " Oh, fie ! that's not knowing your lesson. 
 You had better look it over again," she con- 
 tinued, as a servant brought in a note with the 
 words, " The messenger is waiting for an an- 
 swer." 
 
 In the meantime, I was making my first 
 essay in sewing ; and though, I assure you, it 
 was from no fault of mine, a lamentably bung- 
 ling essay it was. The hem laid down by my 
 little mistress was in some parts twice as broad
 
 EDDY AND HIS LESSON. 29 
 
 as in othere, while in one place the edge was 
 scarcely turned in at alL I was quite hurt at 
 the crooked stitches which Lily forced me to 
 make, and I wondered to myself whether she 
 worked thus from stupidity or a wilful tem- 
 per. 
 
 While the lady read and answered the note 
 in haste, Eddy sat demurely on his stool, lean- 
 ing his elbows on his knees, and his chin on the 
 palm of his hands, as if buried in profound 
 study. As soon as the servant had left the 
 room, he came again to his mother with, — 
 
 " Mamma, I know my lesson now." 
 
 " What do p-i-n make ?" said the lady. 
 
 " Pin," replied Eddy ; for which correct 
 answer he received a smile and a quiet " That's 
 right." 
 
 " And what do p-i-n-e make ?" continued his 
 mother, 
 
 " Needle ! " shouted out the chUd with deci- 
 sion. Mrs. Ellerslie laid the book down on her 
 knee. " I'm afraid that I must turn you again, 
 Eddy." 
 
 Eddy pouted as he took back his lesson, and 
 before Mrs. Ellerslie resumed her accounts, she
 
 30 lily's carelessness. 
 
 said to Lily, " Let me see how you are getting 
 on with your work." 
 
 Lily brought it reluctantly to her mother. 
 
 " Oh fie ! this will never do ! Are you not 
 ashamed of such hemming?" 
 
 " I couldn't lay down the hem right," said 
 Lily very dolefuUy. 
 
 " Could not, or would not, Lily ? I am sure 
 that you can work more neatly than that. Just 
 take it back and unpick it nicely." 
 
 Lily coloured, and as she bent over me again, 
 I saw a big tear fall close bevside me. 
 
 " Three and eight, nine and four," murmured 
 Mrs. Ellershe over her accounts. " Lily, hold 
 up your head ; you must not stoop so my 
 child. Eddy, do not pull ofi* your buttons." 
 She leaned her head upon her hand, I believe 
 that it was aching, and so Lily would have sus- 
 pected had she looked at that pale face ; but 
 the young lady was gloomily proceeding with 
 her work, and perhaps grumbling in her heart 
 at the little task which she might so easily 
 have performed. 
 
 It was clear to me that the poor mother was 
 to have no peace, for again she was interrupted
 
 A SEW TROUBLK. 31 
 
 to pay the washerwoman, and had scarcely 
 finished that small piece of business, rendered 
 troublesome by not having enough of change, 
 when there was a sound of crying from the 
 room above. 
 
 " Is not that baby's voice ? " exclaimed Mrs, 
 Ellerslie, half rising from her seat. She glanced 
 at LUy, probably intending to send her on a 
 message — at least it appeared so from the 
 movement of her head ; but Lily had no idea 
 of reading the wishes of her mother, and kept 
 sullenly pricking me in and out, sitting as if 
 fastened to her seat, Mrs. Ellerslie, therefore, 
 took the shortest way of settling the matter, 
 and herself ran upstairs to the baby. 
 
 Master Eddy took advantage of her absence 
 to clamber up her vacant chair, and make him- 
 self acquainted with the contents of her desk. 
 A very little care on the part of Lily might 
 have prevented him from doing any mischief; 
 but, whether from ill-temper or inattention, she 
 took no notice whatever of his pranks. When 
 Mrs. Ellerslie re-entered the room, she found 
 her ink-bottle overturned on the table, and a 
 black stream flowing down on the car]Det, which
 
 32 MISCHIEVOUS CURIOSITY. 
 
 her little boy was attempting to stop with a 
 handful of bills. 
 
 "Oh, Eddy, Eddy, what have you done!" 
 cried the poor lady. " Lily, run quickly and 
 call down the housemaid. I cannot leave the 
 room for a minute," she added, provoked be- 
 yond even her powers of endurance, " but some 
 mischief is sure to occur." 
 
 " Mamma, I didn't know there was ink in 
 the bottle — I only turned it up to see if 
 there was any ; but I'm trying to wipe it 
 aU up." 
 
 " Oh dear ! the bills ! — and your hands and 
 pinafore ; just see what a state they are in ! 
 You must run up to Sarah directly ! " 
 
 " I'll never do so any more ! " cried Eddy, 
 looking at his blackened fingers, and beginning 
 to whimper. 
 
 When the housemaid had performed her 
 office, and the children had been sent up to 
 prepare for their walk — happily the weather 
 was not rainy — the weary, delicate mother 
 again took her place before the table, and push- 
 ing aside the blackened heaps of bills, which 
 she had now hardly a hope of being able to
 
 FOREBODINGS. 33 
 
 make out, she leaned back upon her chair and 
 sighed. 
 
 "The children are too much for me!" she 
 murmured to herself ; " I really have not the 
 strength to do them justice. I must ask 
 Edward to let me have a governess. But no ; 
 how could I think of such a thing, after the 
 hint which he gave me about expense, after his 
 parting with his own horse and gig, and giving 
 up the trip into Wales ? He spoke, too, of the 
 expense of keeping George at school ! I am sure 
 that there is something weighing upon his 
 mind ; shall I add to it the burden of my petty 
 cares ? No, no ; whatever my dear husband finds 
 to annoy him in the busy, busthng world, he 
 must find his own home a quiet haven of rest. 
 I must manage as well as I can, and always have 
 a cheerful smile for him ! One comfort is, that 
 George's holidays are so near ; — my own boy, 
 what a welcome he shall have!" and her lips 
 parted with a pleasant smUe, and the lines upon 
 her pale brow quite disappeared, as if smoothed 
 down by an invisible hand. 
 
 "This is odd enough!" thought I, as I lay 
 half out of the work-box, sticking in my unfor- 
 
 (659) 3
 
 34 AK ODD CIRCUMSTANCE. 
 
 tunate hem ; " three children are more than 
 this poor lady can manage. I should have 
 thought that a fourth would have driven her
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PERFECT METAL. 
 
 AM not very sorry," observed I to the 
 Thimble, "that careless Miss Lily has 
 "^ forgotten to replace our companion, 
 Mrs. Scissors, in the box. Her man- 
 ners are so sharp, her remarks so cut- 
 ting, that I take little pleasure in her society." 
 " She has a little speck of rust on her, I 
 own," quietly replied my philosophic friend ; 
 "but we must all learn to bear patiently with 
 the weaknesses of others, and see that we keep 
 our own metal bright." 
 
 " You have no difficulty about that," I ob- 
 served. 
 
 " Pardon me," answered the Thimble; "silver 
 is not subject to rust, but it tarnishes, especially 
 if exposed to impure, smoky air."
 
 36 THE FIRST WORKER IN METALS. 
 
 "And was your origin as low as mine?" I 
 inquired ; ** were you also dug from the earth?" 
 
 " I was dug out of a mine in Norway ; 1 
 have been, like you, purified in a furnace, and 
 exposed to heavy blows of the hammer." 
 
 "I wonder how long it is," exclaimed I, 
 "since man first found out the use of metals, 
 and employed them in making whatever he 
 requires ! " 
 
 "The use of metals was known before the 
 time of the Flood, more than four thousand 
 years ago. Tubal-Cain is the name of the first 
 man who is recorded to have worked in metals." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried I, " how much I should like to 
 know who it was who first invented needles !" 
 
 " I dare say that the invention is of early 
 date," replied the Thimble, " though the needles 
 of ancient times were probably far inferior to 
 the polished, delicate articles of which I see so 
 fine a specimen before me. I have heard that 
 needles were first manufactured in England by 
 an Indian, in the reign of stout Harry the 
 Eighth, upwards of three hundred years ago." 
 
 " Well," I exclaimed in admiration, " what 
 it is to have a thimbleful of information ! I
 
 A PERFECT METAL. 37 
 
 shall always couple silver and knowledge to- 
 gether, the best metal and the best thing in the 
 world!" 
 
 "Ah, there you are wrong 1" said my bright 
 companion ; " there is a metal far more precious 
 than silver, and a possession even more valuable 
 than knowledge. What is learning compared 
 to virtue ! what is silver compared to gold !" 
 
 "Gold! what is that?" said I. You must 
 remember that I was but a young needle, with 
 little information, but eager to obtain more. 
 
 " Gold is what is called a perfect metal," 
 replied the Thimble ; " it is injured by neither 
 fire nor water, and it is reckoned of great value 
 in the world. It is found chiefly in South 
 America, California, and lately in the immense 
 island of Australia." 
 
 "And has it to submit to the hammer as 
 well as we?" I inquired. 
 
 " It has much more wonderful power of 
 enduring it than either silver or steel," replied 
 the Thimble. "It never breaks beneath the 
 heaviest stroke, but it spreads itself out beneath 
 it, and that to such an amazing extent that I 
 have heard that a bit of gold not so large as a
 
 38 THE MALUSABILITY OF 60U>o 
 
 halfpenny can be beaten out into a wire a 
 thousand miles long." 
 
 I was not a little astonished to hear this, and 
 I was still more so as the Thimble proceeded, 
 
 " Look around you, and, even in this room, 
 you will see wonderful proofs of the malleability 
 of gold — that is the name given to this curious 
 property which it possesses. See the pictiu-e- 
 frames glittering in the light, the shining 
 pattern on the paper on the wall, the edge of 
 all those gaily bound books ; they owe their 
 beauty to a layer of gold so thin that, though 
 that metal is one of the heaviest known, the 
 gentlest sigh would have blown the leaves 
 away." 
 
 " And is gold useful for anything but gild- 
 ing?" said I. 
 
 "It is much used in various ways," she re- 
 plied ; " amongst others, it was formerly much 
 employed in medicine, and is now used in giving 
 a fine red colour to glass." 
 
 " And is this beautiful and wonderful metal 
 also dug out of the earth ?" 
 
 "It is procured in some places," answered the 
 Thimble, " by washing carefully sand drawn
 
 COMPARISONS. 39 
 
 from the beds of some rivers, which is mixed 
 with particles of gold ; but it is chiefly found 
 by digging." 
 
 "Well, then," cried I, rather triumphantly, 
 " though silver and gold be both esteemed more 
 perfect and more precious than iron and steel, 
 man would have veiy little chance of gaining 
 either of them without the help of a humbler 
 metal ! If silver be like knowledge, and virtue 
 like gold, to what shall iron be compared." 
 
 " To firm resolution," said the Thimble 
 thoughtfully, "without which man would ac- 
 quire little of either."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A PIECE OF MISCHIEF. 
 
 I HE next day I found that the lesson of 
 work was to be omitted. Little Miss 
 Lizzie Baker came to spend the day 
 with my young mistress, who was, 
 therefore, excused from performing her tasks ; 
 which, I could not help imagining, would be 
 felt quite as great a relief by the teacher as by 
 the pupil. 
 
 I was not, however, to be left in complete 
 idleness. Mrs. Ellerslie entered the sitting- 
 room in which the work-box of her daughter 
 was kept She was dressed in her bonnet and 
 shawl ; and seeing me close at hand, sticking 
 in Lily's piece of work, she threaded me with 
 a piece of dark silk, and mended a small hole 
 in her glove. There was a great sound over
 
 N018T PTJii. 41 
 
 head, as of little feet running about, and now 
 and then a fretful cry from the baby. The 
 lady rose and opened the door, and then I 
 could plainly distinguish a voice speaking from 
 an upper room in the house. 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Lily, I shall never get the 
 child to Bleep if you make such a constant 
 noise. You've woke her up these three times 
 already ! " 
 
 " Lily ! Lily ! " called her mother at the foot 
 of the stairs. Whether her call was heard by 
 the little lady I know not, it cei-tainly was not 
 answered, and Mrs. Ellershe had walked half- 
 way up to the nursery before I heard the ser- 
 vant exclaiming in a sharp tone, " Now do you 
 be quiet. Miss Lily ; don't you hear that mis- 
 tress is calling you ? " 
 
 " You had better come to the drawing-room, 
 my darlings," called the gentle mother, "and 
 then nurse can put poor baby to sleep. I am 
 obliged to go out to make purchases, and to 
 execute commissions for my sister ; but I am 
 sure that you will be good and happy while I 
 am away ; and do not be too noisy, my pets." 
 
 So Lily and Liz/ie Baker, a plump, dark
 
 42 AN UNKIND REBUFF. 
 
 eyed little girl, came into the room, and seated 
 themselves on an ottoman, near the table on 
 which my 'work-box was placed. Eddy fol- 
 lowed, jumping step by step down the stairs, 
 and trotting up to his sister, said, " Lily, won't 
 you let me play with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, we don't want you here," was the 
 reply ; " we are going to have a quiet chat 
 together. Just you amuse yourself, and don't 
 trouble us." 
 
 The little fellow turned dolefully away, went 
 up to the window, and flattened his nose against 
 the pane, looking after his mother as she 
 crossed the street ; soiled his finger by drawing 
 lines across the glass which he had dimmed 
 with his breath ; then, tired of that diversion, 
 tried to pull oflf the little twists of wool which 
 formed the fringe of the curtain ; and then 
 suddenly making up to the table, laid his ex- 
 ploring hand on the work-box. 
 
 "There now, Eddy, you tormenting boy, 
 just take your hands off," cried lily, turning 
 round just in time to prevent its contents being 
 scattered on the floor. She roughly snatched 
 the box from the child, and giving him some-
 
 K TALK ABOlfT BROTUEUS. 43 
 
 thing very much like a shake, sent him half 
 crying to another end of the room. 
 
 " He is the most mischievous little monkey," 
 she said to her companion ; " would you believe 
 it, he pulled off the wig of my new doll ! " 
 
 " I think that brothers are gi-eat torments," 
 observed Lizzie. 
 
 " Oh, not such brothers as George," replied 
 Lily ; " he is always like sunshine in the house. 
 I am so glad that he is coming from school I 
 have been counting the days to the holidays." 
 
 " Well, that's odd," said Lizzie ; " I always 
 dread them. In the morning of the day when 
 our boys return, I always think as soon as 
 I awake, ' Dear, dear, we'll have no more peace 
 in the house I ' They are so noisy, so rude, so 
 troublesome, so fond of worrying and teasing us 
 gii'ls, I'm sure that it's a happy day for us when 
 the coach comes to take them back to school." 
 
 " They must be very different from George. 
 I always am happier when he is with me ; and 
 it seems as if he made me better too." 
 
 "But he cannot amuse himself with you. 
 Does he not like hocky, and cricket, and foot- 
 ball, and despise the diversions of girls ? "
 
 44 A FDNNT FANCY. 
 
 " He does like cricket, and that sort of thing, 
 and is a capital hand at it too, but he does not 
 despise playing with us. I do not think that 
 he despises anything but what is mean or 
 wrong. You don't know how fond little baby 
 is of him ; and as for Eddy, he is never so 
 merry as when he is at romps with Georgie, or 
 listening to one of his Btories. I don't know 
 how it is, but every one seems more happy, and 
 everything looks brighter, when Georgie is at 
 home." 
 
 A funny fancy came into my head at this 
 moment. I could not help recollecting what 
 the Thimble had told me about gold — how that 
 metal, which is so weighty and precious, yet 
 can be spread into leaves so thin as to brighten 
 the paper on the waU and adorn the leaves of 
 the book. I wondered if there were anything 
 like this to be found in human life ; if the 
 precious thing called virtue, which my com- 
 panion had likened to gold, could also be found 
 to, extend to trifles, and in the smaller occur- 
 rences of life show its power to brighten and 
 adorn. It was an odd idea, but it arose from 
 what I heard Lily say that morning of her
 
 HOW EDDY AMUSED HIMSELF, 45 
 
 brother ; and when I had an opportunity of 
 watching George myself, it recurred to me 
 again and again. 
 
 So the young ladies sat there chatting and 
 diverting themselves for an hour or more, play- 
 ing at cat's-cradle, comparing their doUs, telling 
 stories of the past, and building castles in the 
 air for the future. Eddy more than once broke 
 in on their tete-d-tete, but was told to go away, 
 and not disturb them. Driven to his own 
 resources, the child rode round the room on a 
 footstool ; but this amusement was stopped, as 
 being too noisy. He then kicked his heels for 
 some time on the sofa, till, finding the occupa- 
 tion tiresome, he made the discovery of a little 
 hole in a cushion, from which he managed to 
 abstract several tiny feathers, which amused 
 him for a quarter of an hour. Then I watched 
 him — for no eye seemed to watch him but mine 
 — when he wearily sauntered to the other side 
 of the room, and fixed his round eyes upon an 
 instrument which, as I have since learned, is 
 called a thermometer. He stared up at this, 
 tin his curiosity grew strong. He dragged, 
 with some labour, a chair to the spot, and
 
 46 LIVELY METAL. 
 
 scrambling up upon the seat, brought his face 
 to a level with the glass. He put out his hand 
 and touched the round ball at the bottom of the 
 instrument, examining it like any little philo- 
 sopher ; he then pressed it a little harder, I 
 suppose, for I saw the child give a slight start, 
 as if some mischief had been done, and then 
 scramble from the chair faster than he had got 
 up, and throw himself down on the floor. 
 
 Glancing up at the thermometer, I could see 
 that the little silver ball had disappeared ; but 
 I was at a loss to account for Eddy's move- 
 ments now, as, half-stretched on the carpet, 
 leaning on one elbow, he seemed to be attempt- 
 ing to pick up something which eluded his gi'asp, 
 pouncing down his hand now here, now there, 
 and laughing to himself men-ily all the while, 
 
 " I think it's alive," he said softly ; " how 
 funnily it runs about when I try to get hold of 
 it ! " and opening his mouth, he stooped closer 
 to the ground, as though to draw up with his 
 lips the something which always slipped from 
 his fingers. He was startled by a frightened 
 exclamation from his mother, who at this mo- 
 ment entered the room.
 
 A NARROW ESCAPE. 47 
 
 " Eddy, my child ! oh, don't touch that ! it's 
 quicksilver — poison — it might kill you ! Oh, 
 what a mercy that I came just in time ! " and 
 weary, agitated, and alarmed, the poor lady 
 drew him close to her bosom and wept. 
 
 " Mamma ! " exclaimed the child, fiightened 
 at her tears, " I didn't mean — I didn't know — 
 it looked so funny ; I never will do so any 
 more ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lily, Lily ! " cried Mrs. EUerslie, with 
 something of bitterness in her tone, as both the 
 little girls hurried to her side, " could you not 
 have looked a little after your brother? If I 
 had returned but one minute later your care^ 
 lessness might have cost the life of my child ! "
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE LIVELy METAL. 
 
 'HAT was that extraordinary metal," 
 cried I, " which I took for a ball oi 
 silver, till I saw the drops running 
 about on the carpet ? " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed the spiteful 
 old Scissors, which, speck of rust and all, had 
 been replaced in the box, " you never saw the 
 solemn philosopher, Mrs. Thimble, ever cutting 
 a dance like that ! " 
 
 " The lady called it quicksilver," I observed. 
 " Was it, then, no relation of my friend ? " 
 
 " Relation ! " again exclaimed the Scissors ; 
 
 "a relation that would eat her, rim, top, and 
 
 all ; make holes for her knowledge to run out 
 
 of! Quicksilver is a dangerous neighbour." 
 
 "Dangerous both to metal and to man,"
 
 MEDICINE AND FOISOM. 49 
 
 quietly rejoined my learned companioiL " Its 
 power can dissolve both silver and gold ; and to 
 the human species it acts as a powerful poison." 
 
 " I wonder that they do not leave it alone, 
 if it does such mischief," said I. 
 
 " Do you not know," replied my friend, " that 
 reason and knowledge can find valuable uses 
 even in those things which at first sight appear 
 only hurtful ? From quicksilver, also called 
 mercury, a medicine is prepared, which, under 
 the name of calomel, has helped to preserve 
 many a life." 
 
 "How strange!" I exclaimed; "medicine 
 and poison, safety and danger, both from the 
 same curious metal ! But is it always a liquid 
 Uke that ? " 
 
 "Oh no!" replied the Thimble; "mixed 
 with other metals, it becomes staid and quiet 
 enc _gh. Look at that beautiful mirror in the 
 gilded frame, which reflects every object in the 
 room. To what, think you, does it owe its 
 beauty? To an amalgam (that is the title 
 given to the mixtui'e) — an amalgam of mercury 
 and tin, which lines the glass at the back." 
 
 " And makes it a pretty aid to vanity and
 
 60 A QUICKSILVER MTNB, 
 
 folly," said the broken-pointed Scissors, with 
 bitterness. " If there is one thing which silly 
 mortals like better than another, it is to look 
 at their own faces in a glass." 
 
 " K mercury has often ministered to vanity 
 and foUy," said the Thimble, *' I remember 
 hearing of one curious instance where it served 
 to mortify them both. A dashing lady, who 
 was absurd enough to try to increase her beauty 
 by covering her j'^ellow complexion with a deli- 
 cate coating of white paint, once visited a quick- 
 silver mine. She must have felt it strange to 
 find herself in that gloomy place, where the 
 sickly miners, by the glare of torch-light, pur- 
 sue their unwholesome occupation." 
 
 " Why should it be unwholesome ? " I asked 
 
 " Because mercury is of that poisonous nature, 
 that it is said that those employed to procure 
 it seldom live longer than two years in the 
 mine." 
 
 "I should think that after learning that," 
 observed I, "the dashing lady would have a 
 feeling of pain when next she looked in a 
 mirror." 
 
 " Probably she had," replied the Thimble.
 
 ABOUT THE THERMOMETER. 61 
 
 " but from a different cause. While she had 
 been examining the mine, she little thought of 
 the strange effbct which the mercury would 
 have on the paint which covered her face. 
 She entered the place white like a lily ; she 
 left it black like a negro ! " 
 
 The idea of the poor lady with her black 
 face mightily tickled the fancy of the Scissors, 
 who wished that she had been there to see her. 
 But my curiosity about the strange metal mer- 
 cury was not quite satisfied yet. 
 
 " What was the use of that instrument hung 
 on the wall, where the quicksilver lay in its 
 little glass ball, till Master Eddy broke its pri- 
 son and set it free ? " 
 
 " That instrument is called a thermometer. 
 It is employed to measure the heat of the 
 weather." 
 
 " I cannot imagine how it can do that." 
 
 " It is the nature of mercury to expand — that 
 is, grow bigger — whenever it is exposed to 
 heat. At the top of the glass ball there is a 
 slender glass tube. When the weather is warm, 
 the mercury swells ; and the ball being too 
 small to hold it, it is forced up the tube to a
 
 62 PROPERTIES OF MKRCfURT. 
 
 greater or less height, according to the amount 
 of the heat." 
 
 " Then, if plunged into boiling water, the 
 mercury would rise very high indeed." 
 
 " And plunged into ice it would sink very 
 low." 
 
 " Would it ever squeeze itself down into a 
 solid ? " said I. 
 
 " You mean, would it freeze as water does ? 
 It requires very, very intense cold to freeze 
 mercury ; but it is not impossible to do it. I 
 have heard the master of the shop in which I 
 lay unsold for years, who was himself something 
 of a philosopher, and from whose conversation 
 with others I have learned the Kttle that I 
 know,^ — I have heard him say that he has seen 
 quicksilver frozen quite hard, so that even a 
 medal was made of it ; but it was not from the 
 mere effect of winter weather." 
 
 "And, of course, if any one had put the 
 medal into his warm pocket, it would have be- 
 gun to run about again directly. The best 
 way to keep it quiet seems to be to make an 
 am — What did you call its mixture with 
 some other metal ' "
 
 EKKKOT AND COMMON SBNSB. 53 
 
 " Amalgam," replied the Thimble. 
 " Ah, yes ! behind the mirror is an amalgam 
 of quicksilver and tin." 
 
 "Like energy united with common sense." 
 " And taught to refleGt," added the Scissors.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PACKING THE BOX. 
 
 [HE next day's lessons passed over with 
 the usual amount of weariness on the 
 part of the teacher, dulness on that of 
 little Eddy, and carelessness on that 
 of his sister. It was with great difficulty 
 that Mrs. Ellerslie could keep the atten- 
 tion of Lily to the tasks which she had to 
 learn. The thoughts of the Little girl were 
 constantly wandering, now to her brother, now 
 to her play, now to some project in her mind, 
 while she tried the patience of her mother 
 almost as much by the numerous little bad 
 habits which seemed to spring up like weeds in 
 neglected ground. 
 
 "Lily, do hold up your head! — My child, 
 you must not stand upon one foot 1 — Little
 
 lilt's bad habits. 66 
 
 girls ought not to bite their lips ! — What ! you 
 have been at your nails again ! " Such were 
 the sentences which, from the lips of the anxious 
 parent, constantly interrupted the course of the 
 studies. I began to wonder whether little girls 
 could find any peculiar enjoyment in biting 
 their finger-ends — whether they thought it be- 
 coming to look hunchbacked, or merely de- 
 lighted in teasing their teachers, and defeating 
 the efibrts of those who love them to make 
 them lady-Hke and agreeable. As I am a needle, 
 and not a little girl, I cannot teU which of 
 these three motives it was that influenced the 
 conduct of Lily. If any of my young readers 
 ever follow her example, I beg them to decide 
 the question. 
 
 At length lessons were finished, and the tired 
 teacher was free, but not to rest. Oh no ! but 
 to pack up a box for her sister in India, which 
 must be despatched before one o'clock. 
 
 " Now, my darlings, ran up and get ready 
 for your walk." 
 
 Lily sauntered slowly up to the window. 
 " Oh, I'm so glad ! it's raining fast ! " said she. 
 " I have something that I particularly want to
 
 56 UNABLS TO SAY NO. 
 
 do. See, mamma, what Lizzie gave me yester- 
 day ! " And she drew, from a little pocket in 
 her dress, a very small parcel, and opening it, 
 displayed to view a reel of bright, ghttering 
 gold thread. 
 
 " Very pretty ; and what will you make of 
 it, my dear ? " said Mrs. EUerslie, kindly paus- 
 ing in her occupation of clearing away school- 
 books and slates, LUy never dreaming of offering 
 her assistance. 
 
 " I'm going to ornament a pen- wiper for 
 George," replied the child ; " don't you think 
 that it will please him very much ? May I 
 stay here and work it beside you ? " 
 
 Mrs. EUerslie nodded her head in assent, but 
 looked a Httle grave ; perhaps she would have 
 preferred being left for an hour in quiet, and 
 had some idea what the permission would cost 
 her. 
 
 " And may I stay here too, mamma ?" in- 
 quired Eddy. " I want to look at you packing 
 all these things. Do let me stay, darling 
 mamma ! " 
 
 She could not resist his entreaty ; so there 
 he pretty quietly stood, watching his mother as
 
 ILL-TIMED QUESTIONS. 67 
 
 she hastily spread the table with various parcels, 
 brown paper, oil-skin, a tin box, and string. 
 
 " Mamma," said Lily, standing on one foot, 
 with the golden thread dangling from her hand, 
 " don't you think that this will look well upoD 
 a dark ground ? " 
 
 " Yes, my love," answered Mrs. Ellerslie, hei 
 voice half drowned in the rustling of paper. 
 
 " Mamma, do you think blue or green would 
 look best ? " 
 
 " I really cannot think about it at all just 
 now, My box must be ready before one. 
 Now, my Eddy, you must not open the parcels." 
 
 "I was just peeping in a little, mamma." 
 
 " Don't come to the table, my sweet boy I 
 Mamma is very busy indeed." 
 
 Eddy trotted off without saying anothei 
 word. 
 
 " Mamma," began Lily again, " do you think 
 that you have a bit of dark-blue cloth or velvet, 
 whichever you please, to give me for the sides 
 of my pen- wiper ? " 
 
 " I dare say I have some upstairs in my 
 wardrobe." 
 
 " Could I go and get it, mamma ? "
 
 68 A TOO INDULGENT MOTHEK. 
 
 " No ; you know that I never allow you to 
 search there," said the lady, who, having lined 
 the bright tin box with paper, was trying every 
 possible position in which an awkward shaped 
 parcel could take up least room. 
 
 Lily remained silent for a few minutes, but 
 without occupying herself with anything but 
 the thought how she could persuade her mother 
 to give her at once what she had set her heart 
 upon obtaining. At length she cautiously com- 
 menced with, " I am rather in a hurry to 
 begin." 
 
 "I will look out the piece for you when 
 next I go upstairs." 
 
 Lily gave a very audible sigh. 
 
 " This would be just the time for working," 
 murmured she. 
 
 " I shall have no peace till I get it for the 
 child ' " exclaimed Mrs. Ellerslie, half to herself; 
 and the too indulgent mother left her parcels 
 and her box, to commence a search for some 
 small remnants of cloth, which, to judge by the 
 length of her absence, she had a good deal of 
 trouble in finding. 
 
 " Now, do not interrupt me any more," she
 
 TIKLDING TO IMPORTUNITY. 69 
 
 aaid, an she placed them in the eager hand of 
 Lily, and turned, by more active exertions, to 
 make up for the time which she had lost 
 
 The girl bore them off in triimiph to her 
 work-box ; but here a new difficulty arose. 
 She snipped off this comer and that comer, by 
 the aid of Mrs. Scissors, but could not satisfy 
 herself with the shape. Again she approached 
 her mother at the table : " Please to make me 
 a good round, mamma. I have tried, but I 
 cannot do it myself." 
 
 "You can wait a little, my dear." Mrs. 
 Ellerslie was pressing down the lid of the box, 
 which seemed evidently determined not to close, 
 and she looked certainly heated and tired. 
 
 Again I heard that naughty, impatient sigh; 
 again the tender mother yielded to importunity ; 
 the round was cut out, and a minute's peace 
 secured. 
 
 "Where's the string?" said Mrs. Ellerslie 
 quickly, moving the box, lifting paper, glancing 
 under the table. The lines on her forehead 
 were plain enough now. 
 
 Lily was busily employed trying to force the 
 bright golden thread though my little eye. I
 
 60 " wheee's the string 1 " 
 
 saw plainly that she coiild never succeed, and 
 I felt exceedingly mortified ; for what could bo 
 a higher object of ambition to a needle than to 
 be threaded with gold? Lily saw that her 
 mother was hunting and searching for the lost 
 piece of string, but she never stiiTed to assist 
 her. 
 
 " Where can it be ? I'm sure that I brought 
 some down ! Where can I have laid the 
 string ? " 
 
 " Here it is ! " cried Eddy, suddenly becoming 
 aware that his mother wanted something which 
 he had himself carried off. He had been quietly 
 amusing himself in his comer, tying chairs, 
 stool, sofa, and bell-rope together, with a liberal 
 expenditure of string and a very large allow- 
 ance of tight knots. 
 
 It was Mrs. EUerslie's turn to be impatient^ 
 as, hastily endeavouring to undo the child's 
 work, she exclaimed, " How on earth shall I 
 unfasten all this ? " 
 
 •' It's my harness, mamma, and these are my 
 horses 1 Oh, are you vexed ? " he added, look- 
 ing up in her face, and reading, from her 
 harassed expression, that he had again been
 
 HELPIKO MAMMA. 61 
 
 guilty of causing her trouble. " I'm very sorry, 
 mamma ; I'U never do so any more." 
 
 Even in the midst of her hurry, the gentle 
 mother stooped down to give him a kiss. She 
 had another hurried run upstairs to bring more 
 string, for she had not the spare time to undo 
 all his knots ; but no angry word passed her 
 lips. She let Eddy stand beside her at the 
 table, even trusted him to hold a match which 
 she had lighted, and employed him to ring the 
 beU. 
 
 " I am so glad that it is done at last ! " 
 cried the lady, sinking wearily on the sofa, as 
 the box — it was barely packed in time — was 
 carried by a servant from the room. 
 
 " And I helped you, mamma ! " said Eddy 
 proudly, 
 
 "I shall never manage this ! " cried LUy im- 
 patiently. " Oh, the tiresome needle ! — stupid 
 thread ! " 
 
 " I am at leisure now," said her mother ; 
 " bring your work to me, my dear child." 
 
 "One would need a bodkin to hold such 
 great coarse cord," exclaimed Lily. 
 
 What a name to give to the most delicate
 
 62 MATERNAL LOVE AND PATIENCE. 
 
 flexible thread which had ever employed the 
 ingenuity of man to beat out from a single 
 grain of gold ! 
 
 " If you had waited a little, I should have 
 shown you what to do. The gold thread must 
 not be passed through the thick cloth at all, 
 but be fastened down to it with a little fine 
 cotton. Thread your needle, and I will show 
 you the way." 
 
 Oh, the patience and love of a mother ! Alas, 
 that it should often be met, if not with actual 
 ingratitude, yet with that selfish want of con- 
 sideration which receives every kindness as a 
 matter of course, and never makes the smallest 
 sacrifice in return !
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GOLD ON A DARE GROUND 
 
 [F what a fine bright metal that box is 
 made," said I ; "I should almost 
 have taken it for silver." 
 
 "Your learned friend here would 
 be shocked to be mentioned in the 
 same breath with tin ! " observed the Scissors. 
 
 " Far from it," said the bright silver Thimble, 
 " If usefulness to man gives value, to metal, few 
 can rank more highly than tin, England owes 
 to it her earliest fame ; for long before her flag 
 waved o'er distant seas — long before her con- 
 quering armies trod foreign shores, while her 
 fields were wild forests, and her people bar- 
 barians, the Phoenicians sought her coasts for 
 tin, for which her mines in Cornwall are yet 
 famous."
 
 54 TIN AND ITS U3SS. 
 
 " Ah ! I remember," I observed, " that it is 
 when mixed with tin that mercury forms the 
 amalgam used for the backs of mirrors." 
 
 " Mercury is not the only metal which unites 
 in a friendly manner with tin. Joined to 
 copper, it becomes bronze, of which those pretty 
 chimney-piece ornaments are made ; and pewter, 
 80 useful to the poor, comes from tin united 
 with lead. It is also very commonly used to 
 line copper pots and pans, which, without such 
 a coating of tia, might poison the food which 
 they contain." 
 
 " Poison ! " I exclaimed in surprise. 
 
 " Yes ; many serious accidents have arisen 
 from the tin Kning wearing away from cooking 
 vessels made of copper. The rust of copper is 
 called verdigris ; it is of a bright green colour, 
 and of a most poisonous nature." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Scissors, " that accounts for 
 our good lady's alarm, when she found one 
 morning, about two years ago, Master Eddy 
 sucking a copper halfpenny ! A precious deal 
 of trouble that young gentleman has given 
 her. He's as active as quicksilver, and as mis- 
 chievous."
 
 A MINE OP VIRTUK. 65 
 
 " Pity that we can't make an amalgam of 
 him," laughed I, "and teach the little rogue to 
 reflect." 
 
 "He, Miss Lily, and the baby are killing 
 their mother by inches between them," said the 
 Scissors. 
 
 I felt rather afraid that she spoke truth, 
 when I saw how faint and exhausted the poor 
 lady appeared, when at length she found a few 
 minutes for repose. She looked so very thin 
 and so pale, as she stretched herself on the sofa, 
 when the light of day began to grow dim. 
 She opened a book with gilt edges, which I had 
 observed to be her favourite companion, and 
 which my friend had told me was, as she be- 
 lieved, a great mine from which man drew all 
 the virtue which he possessed. She read a 
 little, until her worn/ anxious face assumed a 
 peaceful expression. She raised her eyes, and 
 looked upwards ; I thought that they were 
 moistened with tears ; and her pale lips silently 
 moved, as if she were speaking to some unseen 
 friend. Then she shut the book, and placed it 
 beside her, and her blue eyes languidly closed ; 
 and she lay so still, so very still, that she
 
 66 UR. ELLERSLIE. 
 
 looked as though she never would move 
 again. 
 
 The sound of the opening of the outer door 
 seemed to awaken her in a moment. She 
 started up with quite a changed look, so bright, 
 so animated, so cheerful ; passed her hand 
 hastily over her hair to smooth it, and then 
 ran out of the room : and I heard her voice 
 below in lively tones giving a fond welcome to 
 her husband. 
 
 It must have been difficult, however, for the 
 poor lady to keep up a cheerful manner in his 
 presence. I never saw so gloomy a man. It 
 was in vain that she troubled him not with a 
 single care of her own, — that she spoke not a 
 word of her failing health, her difficulties with 
 servants, her troubles about the bills, her cease- 
 less anxieties with the children. I watched 
 him where I lay beside my thread of gold ; for 
 Lily's habit of filling her box so full that she 
 never even attempted to close it, gave me con- 
 stant opportunities of looking about me, and 
 seeing what passed in the room. When the 
 children were called down to see their father, 
 the stem gloom in his face never changed. Even
 
 THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION. 67 
 
 when his wife placed little Rosey in his arms, 
 he kissed her soft cheek with an air so sad, 
 that the babe, half frightened, held out her 
 hands to be taken back to her mother. Lily- 
 could not win his attention at all, and left the 
 room mortified and vexed ; and Eddy received 
 no answer when he said, "Are you not glad 
 that Georgie is coming home to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I'm sure that there's something the matter 
 with that man," said the Thimble, when the 
 sound of the dinner-bell had cleared the room. 
 
 "There's something weighing on his heart, 
 you may be sure," observed the Scissors, "for 
 he used to be as merry as a child. I've seen 
 him galloping up and down this very room, 
 with Master Eddy perched upon his shoulders, 
 and Lily scampering at his heels ; and it would 
 have puzzled even our sharp friend the Needle 
 to say which was the liveliest of the three." 
 
 " He's in trouble, then," said the Thimble : 
 " I've seen enough of life to know that mortals 
 have their trials, which are to them as the 
 hammer and the furnace to us." 
 
 The opinion of our philosophic friend was 
 confirmed that evening, as, when the lamp wajs
 
 68 HUSBAND AUTD WIFK, 
 
 lighted, and the curtains drawn, and the chil- 
 dren all quiet in bed, the husband and wife sat 
 together in deep, earnest conversation. 
 
 " You will hide nothing from me, my be- 
 loved," said the lady, laying her hand fondly 
 on his, and looking anxiously into his face. 
 "I have felt for a long time that something 
 was wrong ; suspense is worse than the truth 
 could be. I can bear all, aU but to see you 
 unhappy, and not be able to lighten, or at least 
 share your trials ! " 
 
 He drew her closer to him. I could not see 
 his face ; it was turned from the place where I 
 lay ; and he spoke so low, in a hoarse, agitated 
 voice, that I could catch but few of his words. 
 They were such as "ruin," "bankruptcy," 
 " poverty ; " the meaning of which I could 
 scarcely comprehend ; but I saw the lady's 
 cheek grow very pale, though her manner was 
 quiet and composed. 
 
 "Well, dearest," she said softly at length, 
 " there are far greater trials than poverty. It 
 will only draw us closer together. I can be 
 happy in a very small abode — a cabin, a hut 
 — so that my dear husband and children are
 
 GOIJ> ON A D&RK GROUND. 69 
 
 with me. I will be Rosey's nurse mysel£ 
 We can manage on little ; so little, you shall 
 see what a housewife I shall be ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " thought I, as I looked on that sweet 
 loving face, "the gold indeed looks brightest 
 on the dark ground, and virtue most lovely in 
 affliction." 
 
 " It may not come to that ; all may yet be 
 well," said the husband, rising and pacing up 
 and down the room. " If I only could meet 
 the present difficulty ! A loan at this time 
 would keep us aU afloat ; one good friend at 
 this crisis might save us." 
 
 " George Hardcastle," suggested the lady. 
 
 " I have thought of him a thousand times," 
 replied her husband, stopping in his agitated 
 walk. " He is rolling in wealth ; he is gen- 
 erous ; he is our cousin ; our boy was named 
 after him. But then — " He paused, and 
 looked at his wife. 
 
 " We have quarrelled with him." 
 
 " / have quarrelled with him. We have not 
 met for months. I could not stoop to write to 
 him now." 
 
 " Not for your children's sake ? " said the
 
 70 TUii LAST RESOURCE. 
 
 mother, rising and laying her hand on his arm. 
 "Oh, Edward, we must think of our helpless 
 babes ! Even if he refused to lend money to 
 you, he might, I think that he would, do some- 
 thing for our George." 
 
 Mr. Ellerslie uttered a sigh that was almost 
 a groan, and threw himself down on his chair. 
 
 " It seems to me as though we should lose 
 no time," continued his anxious wife ; " so 
 much is at stake ! Let's see : this is Wednes- 
 day," she continued, pressing her hand on her 
 forehead. " I think there are two posts to 
 Bristol ; if we wrote at once, we might have 
 an answer on Friday. Edward, when all de- 
 pends on it, why should there be one hour's 
 delay?" 
 
 I could see that it went sorely against the 
 will of Mr. Ellerslie to yield to the persuasions 
 of his wife. It seemed to me, from words that 
 dropped from him, that he was conscious of 
 having behaved ill towards his cousin ; that he 
 regarded Mr. Hardcastle with a feeling of dis- 
 like, and almost preferred remaining in diffi- 
 culties to asking assistance from him. 1 saw, 
 though no mortal ever saw it, that Mrs. Eller-
 
 A PAINFUL TASK. 71 
 
 slie had a good deal to endure from her husband, 
 however dear she might be to his heart. What 
 patience she required, what earnest persuasion, 
 to induce his proud spirit to bend so far as to 
 write at all to his ofiended relative ! And then, 
 when the desk was opened, what a painful task 
 was hers to make him write what would not 
 offend, to alter sentences and soften expressions, 
 and stoop to explain the greatness of his need. 
 Often the ink dried on the pen, twice was the 
 half-written sheet pushed angrily away, and 
 bitter things were uttered, even to her whose 
 every look and every tone was love. I scarcely 
 believed that the letter would ever be finished. 
 But finished it was at last ; and Mr. Ellerslie 
 hastily quitted the room, impatient with his 
 wife, with himself, with all the world ! 
 
 The lady took the sealed letter in her tremu- 
 lous grasp, folded her hands, and again looked 
 upwards : again her lips moved ; and this time 
 the big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. 
 
 " We must do all that we can," she faintly 
 murmured to herself " The hearts of men are 
 in His hands. We must leave no proper means 
 untried, and then commit all to a higher Power."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE school-boy's RETURN. 
 
 'ONSIDERING the heavy weight of 
 
 care which I knew lay on the heart 
 
 of the lady, it was wonderful to me 
 
 how quietly she went through the 
 
 ceaseless petty trials of her life. 
 
 Lily and Eddy came as usual to their lessons 
 
 next morning, the former with her dress a good 
 
 deal torn. 
 
 "Please, mamma, nurse says that I want a 
 new frock." 
 
 " It is not long since I purchased this, LUy. 
 You must have treated it very carelessly indeed," 
 replied the mother, looking somewhat grave. 
 
 "Oh, it's poor stuff!" cried Lily, ^ving a 
 little pull, which confirmed her assertion, by 
 making the rent a good deal wider.
 
 MAERING AND MENDING. 73 
 
 " There is no use in making it worse, Lily. 
 I cannot afford to be buying new clothes. We 
 must do the best we can with the old." 
 
 " Nurse says that she has no time for mend- 
 ing." 
 
 " I think that these lazy little fingers might 
 make themselves useful," said Mrs. Ellershe, 
 with a gentle smile ; " those who mar things 
 ought at least to mend them." 
 
 " I cannot mend such a frock ! " 
 
 " Then / must," said the lady. 
 
 Lily glanced at her mother's face for a 
 moment ; perhaps she saw something there 
 that pricked her conscience a little, for she said 
 in an altered tone, "Dear mamma, I should 
 like to be useftil, but I do not like mending at 
 aU!" 
 
 " Nor do I, my love," answered her mother. 
 
 There was nothing more said on the subject 
 at that time. The lessons proceeded as usual 
 Lily, whose thoughts were very full of the ex- 
 pected arrival of her brother, broke off several 
 times in the midst of her tasks, when she heard 
 the sound of a carriage, and rushed to the win- 
 dow, whither she always was followed by Eddy,
 
 74 ARRIVAL OF GEORGE. 
 
 though assured each time that it was impossible 
 that George could arrive till after early dimier 
 
 If Lily had known all that I knew, I cannot 
 but think that for once she would have shown 
 some consideration for the teacher, whose mind 
 was so full of troubles and cares ; I cannot but 
 think that she would have known her verse 
 correctly, held up her head, and kept her 
 finger-ends still ; but, as it was, the old story 
 was repeated again, and when lesson-time was 
 over, the child did not even seem conscious that 
 she had been doing anything wrong ! 
 
 But oh ! the bustle and commotion that 
 there were when a cab, with a black trunk on 
 the coachman's box, did at length actually 
 drive up to the door ! The whole house re- 
 sounded with the cry, " It is George ! it is 
 George ! he has come ! " I heard little Eddy 
 swinging himself downstairs so fast, that it 
 must have been at the peril of his neck ; I be- 
 lieve the coachman had not even time to ring, 
 BO eagerly the door was opened; and there was 
 such a medley of eager voices in the hall, that 
 all the neighbourhood must have known of the 
 arrival ! I soon saw Mrs. Ellerslie enter the
 
 HIS ATTENTION TO HIS MOTHER. 75 
 
 drawing-room, with a colour on her cheek and 
 a sparkle in her eye ; her arm was round the 
 neck of her son, and she surveyed him with 
 mingled pride and joy ! 
 
 I shall not attempt to repeat the conversa- 
 tion which passed ; every one seemed so eager 
 to ask questions, that there was scarcely a 
 possibility of reply ; but I noticed that when- 
 ever his mother spoke, George was instantly 
 silent and attentive ; and that though he 
 laughed, played, and chatted merrily with 
 all, his eye most frequently rested on her. 
 Then he had to go upstairs to see the baby, 
 followed, of course, by Lily and Eddy, who 
 pursued him like his shadow ; and it was not 
 till an hour or two afterwards that he re-entered 
 the drawing-room with them. 
 
 " And now, Georgie, you must show us your 
 prize ! " cried Lily, with eager pleasure. 
 
 They sat down on the ottoman together, 
 just as Lizzie and Lily had sat, and Eddy 
 crept up close to his brother. This time no 
 one sent him away, 
 
 "A book! what a beauty!" cried Lily; but 
 on turning over some of the pages, she added,
 
 76 SPOONS THAT MELT LIKE SUGAB. 
 
 with a look of disappointment, *' But what a 
 stupid book it must be ! all about metals, and 
 things no one cares for ! " 
 
 "Well, I've been reading a little in the train, 
 and I do not find it stupid at all. It tells one 
 so much that is curious and new. Did you 
 ever hear, Eddy, of metal spoons that would 
 melt in hot tea like sugar ? " 
 
 Eddy opened his eyes very wide. 
 
 "Well, men really make such spoons — I mean, 
 that they would, if they thought that any one 
 would buy them — of a mixture of bismuth, lead, 
 and tin!" 
 
 " I never heard of bismuth before," cried 
 LOy. 
 
 " It is a white metal, of a reddish-yellow 
 tinge, used with others in making solder for 
 the plumbers. There's the beauty of my book, 
 Lily ; it tells one so much that one never heard 
 of before. Did you know that there was a 
 wine made of steel ? " 
 
 "Steel wine? Oh yes! that is what mamma 
 has to take every day, to make her strong. But 
 it is not at aU nice ; it does not taste in the 
 least Like other wine."
 
 ALL ABOUT LEAD. 77 
 
 " Then there's sugar of lead" 
 
 " I'd like that ! " cried Eddy, smacking his 
 lips at the idea of a sweetmeat. 
 
 " Would you, my little man? But it would 
 not like you. Sugar of lead is that metal 
 dissolved in spirit of vinegar ; and that, you 
 must know, makes it a poison." 
 
 " Well," said Lily, " I always considered 
 lead as a dull, heavy metal, fit for nothing but 
 making water-pipes." 
 
 " My book would tell you a different tale. 
 Why, you forget black lead pencils, and the 
 types used in printing. It is employed also in 
 making clear glass, the varnish on chiaa, and 
 beautiful white paint, for all that it looks so 
 dull ! Then, it's so odd to think that from 
 mixing some metals together you can get quite 
 a new one ! Look at the bright brass rods 
 upon which the curtains are hung ; brass is a 
 mixture of copper and zinc." 
 
 "They look like gold!" cried Eddy, looking 
 up. " What do people mix to make gold ? " 
 
 " You funny little philosopher," said George, 
 
 playfully tapping his brother on the cheek, 
 
 ' that's the very question which for ages
 
 78 THE philosopher's stone. 
 
 puzzled the brains of the learned. They 
 wanted to discover some way to mix up metals 
 and make gold. Even the wonderful Sir Isaac 
 Newton was very anxious to find it out! Men 
 were always searching and searching for what 
 they called * the philosopher's stone ; ' and they 
 read old books, and looked at the stars, as if 
 they could see the secret written there ; and 
 they kept up fires for years and years, and 
 mixed together all sorts of things ; and some 
 spent all their money, and some all their lives, 
 in trying to find out how to make gold ! " 
 
 " And never found out at last ? " inquired 
 Lily. 
 
 " It was like running after a rainbow, that 
 searching for the philosopher's stone. But 
 look at Eddy ; he is yawning. He is not quite 
 a Sir Isaac Newton yet ; so I think, Lily, that 
 we had best shut the book, and be off for a 
 game at hide-and-seek ! "
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 HOME HINTS. 
 
 ' OU won't do any lessons, George, dur- 
 ing the holidays, I suppose ? " said 
 Lily, as she slowly and reluctantly 
 brought her lesson-books to her 
 mother the next day. 
 " That's as mamma likes," answered George. 
 " I think," said Mrs. Ellerslie, replying to 
 his glance, " that as you have been working so 
 hard, my boy, you might indulge in a few 
 days' complete rest." 
 
 "I must not be quite idle," said George 
 cheerfully ; " will you not let me teach Eddy 
 while I am at home ? " 
 
 " I think that you would be soon tired of 
 the business," rephed Mrs. Ellerslie, with a 
 emile.
 
 FEARS FOB MAMMA. 81 
 
 sit down beside me, Georgie, and tell me how 
 you feel now that you are at home." 
 
 " I should feel very happy indeed, but that 
 I think mother is looking very ill" 
 
 " Do you ? " exclaimed Lily, with a look of 
 alarm. " Well, I hoped that she was better, 
 for she never complains. The doctor saw her 
 about a month ago ; he gave her something to 
 strengthen her, and said that she must be 
 taken care of, and then there would be nothing 
 to fear." 
 
 " And is she taken care of?" said George. 
 
 " Well, I don't know — I don't see what we 
 can do," replied Lily, looking perplexed ; " I 
 would gladly sit up all night, if it could do her 
 any good." 
 
 " She does not want any one to sit up with 
 her all night," said George ; " but I cannot help 
 thinking that we could do more for her, Lily, 
 than the cleverest doctor could. The lessons 
 are a great fatigue to her, I fear." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure that I should be delighted 
 to leave them off, every one of them 1" ex- 
 claimed his sister. 
 
 " That would not do,*' answered George ; 
 
 (669) g
 
 82 UNPLEASANT TRUTHS. 
 
 " they must be learned ; and I am afraid that 
 I could not teach you as well as Eddy. But 
 it does seem to me, Lily," he continued, speak- 
 ing more slowly and looking on the ground, 
 "that you might save mother just half the 
 trouble that you give her at your lessons." 
 
 " I ! what do you mean ?" said Lily quickly. 
 
 " Well, dear, I don't wish to vex you ; but 
 you know that I could not help hearing what 
 went on all the time that you were at your 
 tasks. Mother had to tell you this thing and 
 that — just what, I suppose, she had told you a 
 hundred times before : and you were watching 
 the butterfly fluttering about while she was 
 explaining the rule of three ; so of course you 
 did not understand it one bit, and she had to 
 begin from the beginning again. Mother is so 
 kind and gentle — it seems as though her good- 
 ness made you careless. I am sure that you 
 would learn your lessons much better if she had 
 taught you with a rod in her hand." 
 
 " George, I never expected this from you !" 
 cried Lily, her eyes filling with tears. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear, for speaking so plainly ; 
 but when I look at mother, and see her so thin
 
 A SIMILE. 83 
 
 and so pale, I can't help telling you a little 
 what I think Now, it's just like this," con- 
 tinued George, searching in his mind for a 
 simile. " Suppose that you were lame, and 
 that it was my duty to lift you into the baby's 
 little carriage, and give you a turn round the 
 square." 
 
 " You could manage it, I dare say," said Lily. 
 
 " Ah ! but suppose that, as I was drawing 
 you along, you caught at every bush, and clung 
 to the palings, and held the wheels, so that they 
 could not be turned round." 
 
 LUy could not refrain from laughing. " You 
 would have hard work, Georgie, dragging me 
 along ! But I should never make you so un- 
 kind a return, if you were so good as to draw 
 me round the square !" 
 
 " And yet, when dear mother gives her time 
 and her strength to getting you on with your 
 learning, you act just as if you wished to make 
 her pull in vain ; and I am sure that she i& just 
 as much tired as I should be after giving such 
 a drive. Now, Lily, I am certain that you 
 love dear mamma — " 
 
 "I love her — I dote on her — I would do
 
 84 GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 anything for her !" exclaimed the little girl, 
 fairly bursting into tears, for she was much 
 wounded by the words of her brother. 
 
 George kissed her again and again, as if 
 angry with himself for having vexed her ; but 
 as soon as Lily was more calm, he resumed the 
 subject once more. 
 
 " Now, dear, suppose that you and I resolve 
 in future to do our very best to make mother 
 strong and weU. There are three things which 
 I think will do her more good than all the 
 steel wine in the world. Fii'st, let her never 
 say anything twice — what a saving of her 
 strength that would be ! Then let us always 
 determine to think of her pleasure before our 
 own. And lastly, in every little thing, let us 
 save her aU the trouble that we can. Oh, Lily, 
 let us only consider what a blessing God has 
 given us in such a parent ; we cannot love her 
 too much, nor care for her too much, nor too 
 earnestly try to obey that commandment, 
 ' Honour thy father and thy mother.' And 
 now, will you forgive me for what I have 
 said?" George added, gently laying his hand 
 upon his sister's.
 
 THK PEN-WIPER. 86 
 
 Lily threw her arms around his neck. 
 "George, you ai-e a darling !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " And so we will be merry again ! Come, 
 diy up those eyes, dear Lily ; I cannot bear 
 to see you cry." 
 
 Lily smiled through her tears, dried her 
 eyes, and then, taking her work-box from the 
 table, she drew out her beautiful pen-wiper. 
 " Can you guess for whom this is?" said she; 
 " do you think that it wiU be pretty when it 
 is done?" 
 
 " Very pretty indeed," answered George ; "how 
 beautiful the gold looks on the dark blue !" 
 
 " It is for a certain brother of mine," said 
 Lily, with an arch, pleasant smile. 
 
 " For a brother who wiU value it very 
 much — I think that I can answer for that," 
 replied George. 
 
 " I'm going to work it now," said the little 
 girl, as she passed a thread through my eye. 
 
 " Have you nothing else that you wish to 
 do first, dear LUy ?" 
 
 " No, nothing ; — oh, you are Igoking at that 
 hole in my dress ; but I never mend my own 
 clothes."
 
 86 PUT TO THE TEST. 
 
 " I thought that I heard mother say some- 
 thing about that very hole to-day," observed 
 George, with a little hesitation. 
 
 " Well, I suppose that I ought to run it up ; 
 but I do so detest mending." 
 
 " I wish that I could help you, Lily ; but 
 I fear that my fingers are too clumsy. Here 
 is an opportunity for you to begin to follow 
 up your good resolutions. Here is something 
 which you dislike to do ; but then your doing 
 it will give pleasure to mother. What is trouble 
 to you will save trouble to her, and you will 
 be so glad when the effort is made." 
 
 " Must I put this by ? " said Lily, looking 
 sadly at her pen-wiper. 
 
 " For a while, dear — only for a while. 1 
 shall always look with more pleasure at my 
 beautiful present when I remember that my 
 Lily would not let her own will come before 
 her duty and her love to her mother," 
 
 The pen-wiper was replaced in the box, and 
 I felt myself hastily run into the dress. 
 
 " I will sit beside you while you work," 
 said George, "and teU you a story to amuse 
 you."
 
 IDLENESS AND MISCHIBX. 87 
 
 " A story ! a story 1" exclaimed Eddy, nm- 
 aing up to his brother in high glee at the 
 word, 
 
 " Oh, Eddy ! what have you been about ? — 
 p ullin g the horse-hair out of the chair !" 
 
 " He is always at some mischief," said Lily. 
 
 " I think," observed CTeorge, "that it must 
 be because he is idle, and cannot keep those 
 little fingers stilL Now, Eddy, would you not 
 rather be a comfort to mamma, and help her 1 " 
 
 "I do help mamma!" exdaimed the little 
 boy, with a look of injured innocence ; " I helped 
 her a great deal to pack her box ; I wish 
 mamma had a box to pack every day." 
 
 " Perhaps mamma would not join in that 
 wish. But if there is not a box to pack, here 
 is a great skein of wool to wind. Will you 
 hold it on your hands, little man, while I try 
 to find out the knot?" 
 
 " He'll let it slip ofi" to a certainty !" cried 
 Lily ; " you had much better put it over a 
 chair." 
 
 " Will you let it slip off, Eddy," said his 
 brother, " and spoil all the skein for mamma V* 
 
 " I'll hold it as tight — as tight as a drum !"
 
 88 HOLDING THE SKEIN. 
 
 cried the child, indignant at his carefuhiess 
 being doubted. " I will be useful — I will help 
 mamma !" his face quite flushed as he spoke, 
 
 " You'll be her comfort, Eddy ; I'm sure of 
 it," said George. " Now, softly ; you need not 
 stretch it so hard ; just hold your hands a little 
 nearer to the light ; I can wind aU the time 
 that I am telling the story." 
 
 " Oh, how nice it will be ! how happy we 
 are! What shaU the story be about?" cried 
 Eddy. 
 
 " Let me see," said George, shaking out a 
 knot. " Why, Lily, how famously you are 
 getting on with your hole ! We shaU be puzzled 
 to find out the place where it was, I think 
 that, in compliment to your work, I wUl tell 
 you a story of a needle and a compass." 
 
 " Of a needle ! — oh, what fun !" cried little 
 Eddy. A jovial httle feUow he was, and very 
 merry sounded his laugh ; but it was not mer- 
 rier than mine, if the children could have heard 
 it ; for never had it entered my thoughts for a 
 moment that any one would ever make a story 
 about me ; and I felt amazingly complimented 
 by the idea.
 
 ALL ATTENTION. 89 
 
 " What sort of ueedle ?" asked Eddy ; " a big 
 needle — a darning needle — a bodldn ?" 
 
 " Oh no !" replied George, with a smile ; 
 " we need nothing so grand as that. We'll 
 have a story of a nice little needle, just like 
 that with which LUy is sewing." 
 
 With eager curiosity I listened, and the 
 Scissors and the Thimble were all full of atten- 
 tion, as George commenced his story.
 
 CHAPTEK XIL 
 
 THE STORY OP A NEEDLE AND A COMPASS. 
 
 ;NCE upon a time, in the days of 
 fairies — " 
 
 " How long ago?" inquired Eddy. 
 " Well, you must not ask too par- 
 ticularly about that," laughed George; 
 " but I suppose that, as there is a compass in my 
 story, it must have been after the compass was 
 invented — about the thu-teenth century, that 
 is to say, though some believe that the Chinese 
 had it more than two thousand years before." 
 
 " But what is a compass ?" said Eddy, look- 
 ing up. 
 
 " Oh, Eddy," cried Lily with impatience, 
 " you must not interrupt us every minute !" 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! it is very natural that 
 he should like to understand," observed George
 
 LOADSTONE AND IRON. 91 
 
 " I'll try to explain it to you, Eddy. There 
 is a strange substance, called loadstone, dug out 
 of the ground, for which iron has a wonderful 
 fancy. If a lump of it were placed in Lily's 
 work-box, all her needles and scissors, and her 
 keys, if she had any, would jump to it, and 
 cling to it in a minute, just as you would jump 
 into mother's arms." 
 
 " Oh, I wish that I had a lump as big as my 
 head ! I should like to see the poker and the 
 tongs and the shovel all jumping!" exclaimed 
 Eddy, full of merriment at the thought. 
 
 " And the odd thing is," continued George, 
 " that when iron is weU rubbed with this load- 
 stone, it seems as though it grew just like it, 
 for it gets the very same curious property of 
 attracting other bits of iroru One of the boys 
 at my school had a large steel magnet — that is, 
 steel that had been rubbed with the loadstone 
 — and it was the funniest thing in the world to 
 see a dozen needles sticking to it at once, like 
 so many quills upon a porcupine." 
 
 " But what has this to do with the compass?'' 
 inquired Lily. 
 
 " It has a great deal to do with the com
 
 92 THE mariner's compass. 
 
 pass. It has been discovered that magnets, 
 when put in such a position that they can 
 freely move in any direction, are sure always 
 to turn towards the north : so little instru- 
 ments are formed, holding a small piece of steel 
 made into a magnet, not fixed, but left to 
 tremble and tremble, till, like a tin}^ finger, it 
 points towards the North Pole." 
 
 " What is the use of that ?" said Eddy. 
 
 " It is of wonderful use," answered George. 
 " Why, only think of poor sailors at sea ; when 
 there is nothing but water, wide water, around 
 them, and when the clouds hide the sun or the 
 stars, how can they tell which way to steer?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Eddy, quite puzzled. 
 
 " They look at their clever little compass — 
 they see in what direction it points — they 
 know from it where the north and south lie ; 
 and the tiny magnet serves as a guide." 
 
 " What a clever little compass !" cried Eddy; 
 " now, please go on with your story." 
 
 " Well, as I said, once upon a time, in a 
 beautiful garden, near a beautiful palace, there 
 sported two beautiful children. They were 
 the little son and daughter of a king ; and
 
 OF NO USE TO ANT ONB. 93 
 
 they were brought up with such foolish in- 
 dulgence, that in all things they had their own 
 way. They did not like spelling, so they 
 never learned to spell ; they did not know their 
 tables ; they never looked at maps ; they could 
 not so much as count their fingers 1" 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Eddy, "the stupid Uttle 
 thmgs!" 
 
 " They were not naturally more stupid than 
 others," replied George ; " but then they were 
 terribly idle. They were of no use to any one 
 in the world. They did nothing but gather 
 fruit and eat it, and make garlands of pretty 
 flowers, and sing aloud their foolish little song — 
 
 ' I love to be idle, I love to be gay, 
 I'll throw my books and my work away ; 
 From morning till night — aU play, aU play 1 ' " 
 
 There was a twinkle in Eddy's merry eye 
 that seemed to say that he felt no surprise at 
 the idle taste of the children. 
 
 "Well," continued George, winding rapidly 
 all the time that he spoke, " one day they were 
 playing together in the garden, when they were 
 surprised to hear a low, soft sound, which came 
 from a bed of flowers. They ran eagerly to
 
 94 WORK FOR EVERT ONE. 
 
 the spot, and, standing in the cup of a tulip, a 
 fine tulip, all streaked "with crimson and white, 
 what do you think they saw ? " 
 
 Eddy suspected a wasp, or a dragon-lly. 
 
 " No ; a lovely little fairy, with gossamer 
 wings, all spangled with silver and gold ; and 
 she held in her hand a fine glittering wand, not 
 half so big as the tiniest needle ! 
 
 " ' Oh, foolish children ! ' she cried, in a soft, 
 sweet voice, which sounded like the tinkling of 
 a beU, 'do you think life was made only for 
 a plaything, and time given to be thrown away 
 in folly ! There is work in this world for 
 every one to do, and everything is created for 
 some use. As you have never, with your wills, 
 done any service to mankind, it is your doom 
 to do service without them. Your eyes, your 
 ears, your hands, yom' tongues, have been given 
 you to no purpose ; their powers shall now be 
 taken quite away ; for seven long years you 
 shaU toil in humble estate, till you have learned 
 how great is the value of time, and opportunity 
 to do some good to others ! ' 
 
 " While the little prince was wondering what 
 the faiiy could mean, she stretched her gossamer
 
 STRANGE TRANSFORMATIONS. 95 
 
 wings, anci flying towards him, she touched 
 him on the face with her wand. A very odd 
 feeling came over him at once. He seemed to 
 be contracting like an india-rubber ball, when 
 some one has let out the air. Feet and legs, 
 hands and arms, appeared drawn into hLs body ; 
 and the body itself became smaller, and rounder, 
 and harder, every minute, till nothing was left 
 of the poor little prince but a mariner's compass 
 in a neat brass case, with its slender finger 
 trembling, trembling, till it found its resting- 
 place towards the north ! " 
 
 Eddy opened his blue eyes very wide at the 
 idea of such a strange transformation, and 
 nearly let the skein of wool slip over his 
 fingers, 
 
 "The little girl stood amazed, as you may 
 suppose, at the singular change in her brother. 
 In her surprise to see him shrink into so curious 
 a shape, she was uttering a cry of dismay, when 
 her tongue, all on a sudden, ceased to move, 
 her fingers appeared fastened to her sides, her 
 feet joined together and grew into a point — 
 she shrank, shrank, as if going to disappear 
 altogether — till, where the little princess had
 
 96 THE fairy's song. 
 
 stood, there only lay on the ground a small 
 needle ! " 
 
 " Oh, George, what a comical story ! " cried 
 Lily, smoothing down the dress, which she now 
 had finished mending. 
 
 " Please, go on," exclaimed Eddy ; " what 
 did the fairy do next ? " 
 
 "Turning towards the mariner's compass, 
 and waving her wand to the sound of strange 
 wild music in the air, she sang the following 
 words : — 
 
 ' Upon the stormy tide 
 The weary seaman guide, 
 And point to the North across the ocean wide 1 ' 
 
 Then bending over the needle, she continued 
 the lay — 
 
 ' What is marred, make right ; 
 \ATiat is severed, unite ; 
 And leave where'er you pass a golden thread of light I ' 
 
 Then in what manner they were conveyed 
 away I know not, but suddenly the compass 
 found itself on the deck of a ship, and the 
 needle in the work-box of a young lady." 
 
 " That was Lily," suggested Eddy. 
 
 " Oh ! as if we lived in the time of the
 
 aOOD FAIRIES. 97 
 
 fairies ! " exclaimed his sister, now busy again 
 with her pen- wiper. 
 
 "Well, we may call industry and affection 
 good fairies," said George, " for what wonderful 
 changes they make ! But to go on with my 
 little story. 
 
 " For seven long years the compass and the 
 needle were as clever and useful, and did as 
 much work, as compass and needle could do. 
 The one was tossed on the stormy sea, was 
 nearly lost in a shipwrecked vessel, and when 
 it was deserted by its crew, and almost every- 
 thing else left behind, they took it with them, 
 as something more precious than gold, and by 
 it were guided to safety ! It were endless to 
 tell all the good deeds of the tiny needle in its 
 quiet little home ; how many holes it mended, 
 how many poor it clothed, what beautiful pen- 
 wipers it made," George added, glancing play- 
 fully at his sister, " tUl at last- — " 
 
 " Well, what happened at last ? " said Eddy. 
 
 " At last, one lovely summer mom, when all 
 the birds were singing, and the flowers smelling 
 sweet, and the trees waving softly in the air, 
 in the beautiful garden of a beautiful palace 
 
 (559) 7
 
 98 PABTING A.DVICE 
 
 the two beautiful children found themselyes 
 again, with their arms closely twined around 
 each other ! " 
 
 " Had they not grown in all that time ? " 
 inquired Lily. 
 
 " They had grown wiser, dear ; but the 
 years that had passed seemed to them like 
 nothing but a dream ; and a dream they would 
 have thought them, so exactly did everything 
 ajipear as it had done before, had not the same 
 silvery voice come from the centre of a rose, 
 and the same fairy form appeared with spangled 
 wings, and tiny glittering wand ! 
 
 " ' Let not the lessons which you have 
 learned be forgotten ! ' she cried. * Follow the 
 same path of usefulness now with your wills as 
 you have lately been doing without them. 
 Let not lifeless brass and steel do more than 
 beings with reason, judgment, and aflfection. 
 Let the heart still point to the pole-star of duty 
 in every danger and trouble ; and your home 
 be cheered by the quiet virtues which adorn 
 the peace-maker, the comforter, the friend ! ' 
 Then bursting into song as she vanished into 
 air, the fairy's musical voice was heard : —
 
 " A PRETTY LITTLK STORY." 99 
 
 ' On life's ocean wide 
 
 Your fellow-creatures guide, 
 And point to a shore beyond the stormy tide I 
 
 What is marred, make right ; 
 
 What is severed, unite ; 
 And leave where'er you pass love's golden thread of light ! ' " 
 
 "That's a pretty little story!" said Eddy, 
 as his brother wound ofi" the end of his skein. 
 " You must teach me the tiny fairy's song — 
 
 ' What is marred, make right.' 
 
 Just say it over again once or twice, Georgie." 
 " What do you think of it ? " said I to Mrs. 
 
 Scissors. 
 
 " Oh, you know very well that it is not in 
 
 my line," she replied, in a snappish manner ; 
 
 "I sever what is united, and cut right and 
 
 left ! I would not stoop to the office of a 
 
 needle ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GOLD BROUGHT TO THE PROOF. 
 
 [HE story told by George, however grati- 
 fying to my feelings as a needle, did 
 not prevent me from dwelling a good 
 deal on the troubles of his parents, 
 and wondering if any letter had arrived from 
 Bristol. I seldom saw Mr. EUerslie in the 
 drawing-room, where I was kept, till he re- 
 turned from business late in the afternoon. 
 This day, when he entered the apartment with 
 his wife, he looked gloomy and anxious as 
 ever. 
 
 " There is a late post ; we may hear to-night," 
 the lady said. He muttered something, I could 
 not make out what. 
 
 Mr. EllersUe was very irritable that evening; 
 he could scarcely bear the children near him at
 
 FORCED CHKERFULNKSS. 101 
 
 alL Eddy made a vain attempt to repeat to 
 him the fairy's song, of which the rhyme had 
 caught the child's fancy. He and his sister 
 were soon sent up to the nursery ; but George, 
 as being older and more quiet, was suffered to 
 remain behind. 
 
 Mrs. Ellerslie, with forced cheerfukiess, did 
 all that she could to make the heavy time pass 
 pleasantly. She carefully avoided rousing her 
 husband's temper, and when, without reason, 
 his peevishness broke forth, she bore it without 
 a murmur or complaint, and kept down the 
 tears which struggled to rise. I saw plainly 
 that iron is not the only thing liable to a speck 
 of rust, nor broken-pointed scissors the only 
 articles formed to cut and divide. 
 
 Mrs. Ellerslie took up a book, a very amus- 
 ing volume it was, and read till her voice grew 
 hoarse and faint. 
 
 " May I read a little, mother ? " said George ; 
 "it is good practice for me, you know." 
 
 She placed the book in his hand ; but it soon 
 became evident that George was not accustomed 
 to read aloud. He never varied his tone, 
 missed the short words and mispronounced the
 
 102 ARRIVAL OF THE LETTER. 
 
 long, and certainly made a very poor figure as 
 a reader. 
 
 " How you drawl ! it is a penance to hear 
 you ! " cried his father. 
 
 " Shall I take the book now ? " said Mrs. 
 Ellerslie faintly. 
 
 George was flushed. I could see that he felt 
 his father's taunt. I believe that he would gladly 
 have given up the reading ; but his mother's 
 feeble tone seemed to touch his heart, and still 
 retaining his hold of the volume, he said, "If 
 you please, I would rather try a little longer ; 
 I will try to read better, if you will let me." 
 
 "There's the post!" exclaimed Mrs. Ellerslie, 
 with a start, as the double rap was suddenly 
 heard. 
 
 George saw that his mother was anxious : he 
 sprang out of the room in a moment. 
 
 Mr. Ellerslie rose, as if too impatient to be 
 able to sit still ; his wife clasped her trembling 
 hands ; but neither of them uttered a word till 
 George returned with a letter. 
 
 " The Bristol post-mark ! " muttered Mr. 
 Ellerslie, as he broke the seal 
 
 '• George, my son," said the lady, " go to the
 
 ITS CONTENTS. 103 
 
 dining-room for a few minutes. You can take 
 the book with you, if you like." 
 
 George instantly obeyed, without speaking ; 
 and Mrs. Ellerslie fixed her blue eyes, with a 
 look of intense anxiety, on the changing coun- 
 tenance of her husband. 
 
 "There — read it," he exclaimed, when he 
 had finished perusing the letter ; " what do 
 you say, Eliza, to that?" and he threw himself 
 again on his chair. 
 
 "He writes kindly of George," said the 
 mother, after looking over the first page of the 
 letter, — " ' / tvas much pleased with what J 
 saw of your hoy last year, — I don't forget that 
 he is my namesake.' " The poor mother's face 
 brightened up. 
 
 " Read on," said her husband abruptly. 
 
 " It does not seem that he declines to assist 
 you," said the lady, still anxiously endeavour- 
 ing to make out the crabbed handwriting before 
 her ; "on the contrary, he writes, 'J shall have 
 a large sv/m at your disposal, such as I think 
 will remove every difficulty.' " 
 
 "There's an if to that. Read on a little 
 farther."
 
 104 A PAINFUL ALTinUJATIVK. 
 
 " Oh, Edward ! " exclaimed the lady, almosi 
 dropping the letter, " can he ask us to give up 
 our boy — our dear son ? " 
 
 " He offers to adopt him as his own." 
 
 " My George ! oh ! no, no, no ! — we can 
 never, never consent to that ! " 
 
 " Why, you see, Eliza," said her husband, 
 speaking rapidly, "if I have not assistance now, 
 all will be ruin — I shall have no means of sup- 
 porting my family. Perhaps this is the best 
 thing for George himself — " 
 
 " I can hardly think it," said the mother, 
 with a look of intense pain. "Hardcastle 
 gives us to understand that the separation from 
 our boy must be * complete — final ' — these are 
 his very words — that * George must not look 
 to two fathers or tiuo hom^ — ' ' 
 
 " Hardcastle dislikes me," muttered Mr. 
 EUerslie to himsel£ 
 
 " And even if we could bear to part," con- 
 tinued his wife, with something like a stifled 
 aob, " Hardcastle is not one to whom our boy 
 could look up with the affection — the rever- 
 ence — " she stopped for a moment, as if to 
 swallow down her tears. " Hardcastle has
 
 A» UlfHAPPT MOTttKK. 105 
 
 temper, he is strange, eccentric. Our George 
 would be wretched with him. Oh no ' it can- 
 not be ! " she added with energy ; "it would 
 be like sacrificing — selling our child ! " 
 
 "K we refuse Hardcastle's offer," said her 
 husband, " we offend him for ever ; and you 
 know the consequences, Eliza." 
 
 She sat with her hand pressed over her eyes, 
 while Mr. Ellershe continued to speak, 
 
 " He can afford Gfeorge advantages, com- 
 forts, which it would not be in our power to 
 bestow. I am not certain whether, all selfish 
 motives set aside, the boy would not be happier 
 at Bristol than here." 
 
 "Let us consult George himself," said the 
 unhappy mother. " On a question which con- 
 cerns the welfare of his whole life, we at least 
 should know what are the poor child's feelings." 
 
 " I have no objection," replied the father, 
 walking to the door; "but you must command 
 yourself, Eliza. This is weak, foolish — not 
 what I expected from you. "We must think 
 calmly, and decide firmly, and not give way to 
 emotions which injure ourselves and can do good 
 to none. — George ! " he called out, after opening
 
 106 KIND AFTER A FASHION. 
 
 the door, while his wife, after one look of 
 anguish, such as I never can forget, sat quiet 
 and submissive on the sofa, like one whose 
 spirit is broken and crushed. 
 
 " Did you call me, father ? " said George, as 
 he entered with his light step and cheerful 
 glance. 
 
 " Yes ; I wish to speak to you, my boy. 
 You remember your visit to Bristol last sum- 
 mer ? " 
 
 " That I do ! " replied the school-boy with a 
 meaning smile ; " 1 know that I was precious 
 glad when it was over ! " 
 
 "You had nothing to complain of — Mr. 
 Hardcastle was kind ? " 
 
 " Well, kind after his fashion," said George, 
 with a little hesitation. " I did not mean to 
 say anything against him. But what with the 
 smoke and the dirt, and the noise of the great 
 manufactory close by, and the ways of the 
 house — not one bit like ours — I know that 1 
 felt like a bird in a cage, and was heartily 
 glad when I was set free ! " 
 
 " I knew it ! " murmured the mother ; but 
 [ believe that no one overheard her but myseli
 
 PUDASANTBY KSD AXOUISH. 107 
 
 Mr, ElUerslie knitted his brow. " Hard- 
 castle wishes you to go to him," he said. 
 
 " Not another visit, I hope ? " exclaimed 
 George with animation ; " you do not know 
 how much I should hate it." 
 
 "Not for a visit — he would have you for 
 good and all." 
 
 " But he won't get me ! " cried the school- 
 boy with playftd confidence. " I would not 
 change my own dear home for that smoky 
 prison, no, not for aU England — and Ireland to 
 boot ! " 
 
 " He shaU not go ! — oh, Edward, he cannot 
 go ! " exclaimed the mother, rising and throw- 
 ing her arms round her son, and pressing him 
 convulsively to her heart. " T would sooner 
 starve than send him away ! " 
 
 George was startled and alaimed at the sight 
 of her agitation, and looked anxiously at his 
 father for an explanation of an emotion which 
 he could not understand. 
 
 " It is as well that he should know all," said 
 Mr. Ellerslie; "let the boy decide for himself. — 
 George, driven by circumstances which I need 
 not explain, I have asked a favour of Mr. Hard-
 
 108 EFFECTS OF THE LETTER. 
 
 castle, on which the comfort, the independence, 
 I may say the very living, of this family de- 
 pend. This is his answer ; read it." He 
 pushed the letter across the table to George. 
 
 All the healthy glow in the boy's check 
 faded away as he slowly made out the closely- 
 written scrawL His father folded his arms, 
 and fixed his gaze sternly on the carpet ; but 
 his mother watched him with glistening eyes, 
 George stopped more than once as he read, as 
 if to make sure that he rightly understood, and 
 repeated the words "final and complete separa- 
 tion" as he might have done a sentence of 
 death. When he had finished he laid down the 
 letter, and turning towards the sofa, said, in a 
 low, agitated tone, " Mother, what would you 
 wish me to do ? " 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, 
 " Do not further distress your mother," said 
 Mr. Ellerslie, rising with emotion. " I leave 
 the question in your own hands, George; I will 
 never dispose of you without your own con- 
 sent : " and as he spoke I thought that the 
 hand which he laid on the shoulder of his first- 
 bom trembled.
 
 A night's respitb. 109 
 
 George had evident difficulty in speaking. 
 He could scarcely command his voice. I 
 expected him to break down every moment ; 
 but he manfully struggled with his feelinga 
 
 "I should like one night, dear father, to 
 think over it, before I make up my mind 
 Mr. Hardcastle says in his postscript" — he 
 took up the letter and read — " * As business 
 takes me to London, I shall arrive almost a^s 
 soon as my letter, and will see you on Satur- 
 day morning ; ' so, doubtless, he will be here 
 to-morrow. May I wait till the morning be- 
 fore I give you my answer ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mr. EllersKe, with a 
 heavy sigh. "You had better retire to rest 
 now ; it is late. T shall wait at home to- 
 morrow to see Hardcastle when he calls. You 
 will tell me your wishes in the morning. 
 George, my dear boy, good-night." 
 
 He pressed his son for a moment closely to 
 his breast, and then himself rapidly quitted the 
 room. George sprang to the side of his mother. 
 
 " Mother — darling mother ! " his arms were 
 around her, his head buried on her bosom. 
 
 "Oh, George, my heart will break — wiU
 
 110 MOTHER AND SOH, 
 
 break 1 I cannot part with you 1— I can neveu 
 consent ! " 
 
 " We will think, we will reflect over it, 
 mother." 
 
 " And praj — oh, my child ! we wiD pray I ''
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 [HAT'S right, Lily, place the books 
 ready ; get everything right for dear 
 mother," said George, as, with a step 
 and manner, oh, how changed ! he 
 entered the drawing-room the next morning. 
 
 "I want you to see that I do not forget 
 your advice. T am going to be a real comfort 
 to mamma." 
 
 " And so am I ! " cried Eddy, with glee. 
 
 " My healthy arm shall be her stay, 
 And I will wipe her tears away I " 
 
 He stopped short, and stared in wonder at his 
 brother. " Are you going to cry, Georgie ? " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 "What is the matter, George, dear George'** 
 cried Lily, looking alarmed.
 
 112 NEXT MORNING. 
 
 " Sit dovm beside me, dear Lily and Eddy," 
 said George, when he had recovered his voice. 
 "T want to speak with you quietly and seriously 
 — I want to speak to you about our dear 
 parents." 
 
 "But is anything the matter?" repeated Lily. 
 
 " I am going to leave you — I am going to 
 Bristol— I—" 
 
 He was interrupted by a passionate exclama- 
 tion from Lily, and something like a howl from 
 Eddy. 
 
 "I wish you to take my place — to be to 
 those dear parents all that I once hoped to be ; 
 to obey them cheerfully, without a murmur ; 
 to try and find out their wishes, even before 
 they can speak them ; to — " 
 
 " But you shan't go, Georgie ; I won't let 
 you go ! " cried Eddy, seizing his brother's arm 
 with both his hands, as if to detain him by 
 
 force. 
 
 At that moment there was a knock at the 
 door, and George turned very pale at the sound. 
 The next minute Mrs. Ellerslie entered the 
 drawing-room to receive the expected visitor. 
 The lady's eyes looked swollen and red, and
 
 A STRANGE- LOOKING FIGURE. 113 
 
 her form drooped like a withering flower. 
 Eddy popped a cushion on her chair, and Lily 
 drew a footstool before it. 
 
 Mr. Ellerslie, whose voice had been heard on 
 the stairs in conversation with some one whose 
 cracked, peculiar tones grated harshly on the 
 ear, now threw open the door and followed into 
 the apartment a little shrunken figure, dressed 
 in a snuff-coloured coat, considerably the worse 
 for wear. I could not wonder, when I looked 
 at the visitor, at poor George's reluctance to 
 exchange the society of all whom he loved so 
 well for that of his cousin at Bristol. There 
 was something shabby, mean, even dirty, in 
 his appearance, which gave the impression that 
 he was out of place in a gentleman's house ; 
 while a terrible squint in his left eye, and a 
 strange twitch in his face, which set Eddy 
 laughing, made his countenance the reverse of 
 agreeable. 
 
 Mr. Hardcastle, in an uncouth, awkward 
 manner, shook hands with Mrs. Ellerslie, nodded 
 to Lily, and chucked Eddy good-humouredly 
 under the chin ; then, clapping George heartily 
 on the back, he said, " So, my man, you are 
 
 (559) 8
 
 114 BETTER THAN HE LOOKS. 
 
 going back with me to Bristol ! That's right 
 See that your trunk is packed by Monday ; 
 we'll be off by the early train." 
 
 " I shall be ready, sir/' answered the boy. 
 
 Mr. Hardeastle sat down, pulled out his 
 snuff-box, took a pinch of its contents, part of 
 which he bestowed on the carpet, then held out 
 the box to Eddy, who examined with interest 
 the picture on the lid. 
 
 " rU arrange it with you, EUerslie, to-day," 
 said the old gentleman ; " we'll go to the city 
 together, make all right, set aU smooth." He 
 passed his fingers through his hair, and stretched 
 out his legs with an air of satisfaction, in 
 marvellous good-humour with himself. 
 
 " I am very sensible how much I am indebted 
 to you," began Mr. EUershe, making an effort 
 to speak. 
 
 " Say nothing about it, say nothing about 
 it — it's all settled and done. When a man 
 comes half-way to meet me, why it's my way 
 to go the other half to meet him. Eh, George?" 
 he added, as if appealing to the boy, who stood 
 silently and sadly leaning against the arm of 
 the sofa
 
 A SACRIFICE TO DUTY. 116 
 
 George's answer was a half-suppressed sigh. 
 
 " You look glumpish," said the old gentle- 
 man, fixing the eye which did not squint on the 
 boy. " You don't wish to go with me, eh ?" — 
 the cracked voice had impatience in its tone. 
 
 " I wish to do — whatever is best for my 
 parents." 
 
 " But you don't like going, eh ? " said Mr. 
 Hardcastle, resting his bony hands on his knees, 
 and leaning forward with a look of peevish 
 irritability. 
 
 " I cannot like — leaving my home for an- 
 other," answered George gravely ; " but I am 
 ready to do it — I do not complain," 
 
 Mr. Hardcastle continued his sharp scrutiny 
 of the boy's countenance, as if he would read 
 him through and through. There was a pain- 
 ful moment of silence — it was broken by little 
 Eddy. 
 
 "You shan't take away George," said he, 
 going close to the old man, and looking 
 earnestly up into his face. 
 
 " I shan't ! shall I not ? and why not, my 
 little man?" said Mr. Hardcastle, lifting the 
 child on his knee.
 
 116 EDDY IN TKOCBLB. 
 
 "Because — because — Georgie must not be 
 sent far away like the compass, but stay here 
 at home like the needle." 
 
 " Like what ? " exclaimed Mr. Hafdcastle. 
 laughing. 
 
 "It's a story Georgie told us," said the child, 
 pulling the buttons on the coat of the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Let's hear his story, by all means, my 
 dear." 
 
 Poor Eddy looked exceedingly puzzled, for 
 he had very little, command of language, and 
 did not know how to put his thoughts into 
 words. At last he said, "Georgie told it to 
 make us good, and busy, and kind, and a com- 
 fort to papa and mamma." 
 
 " Ah ! that must have been a capital story ; 
 I should like to hear you tell me all about it." 
 
 "Eddy," said his father, "how can you 
 plague Mr. Hardcastle with your nonsense ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, he does not plague me 
 at all It amuses me to hear what the little 
 feUow has to say. So out with your improving 
 story. Master Eddy ! " 
 
 Poor Eddy turned round and looked at his
 
 Eddy tells his story. 
 
 Page 120,
 
 LITTLK BETTER THAN NOTHING. 11*/ 
 
 brother ; but George seemed disposed to render 
 him no assistance. He glanced at Lily — she 
 would not utter a word. He was left to his 
 own resources. 
 
 "Well, once upon a time," he began, but 
 stopped short. " I can't tell a story," said the 
 child ; "it is too hard — I can only remembei 
 a bit of the fairy's pretty song." 
 
 "A little is better than nothing," cried the 
 old gentleman, much amused at the perplexed 
 look of the child. " Let's hear what the fairy 
 sang." 
 
 " It was something about what we all should 
 do, Georgie said. It made me think I 
 should like to do it too. This was it ; " and 
 keeping time with his fore-finger, he slowly 
 repeated — 
 
 "What is marred, tuaku right ; 
 What is severed, unite ; 
 And leave where'er you paas love's golden thread of light 1 " 
 
 The hard features of the old man softened 
 as he listened to the Usping ^hild. " That's 
 the song, is it ? " said he, stroking Eddy's locks 
 in rather an abstracted manner. "What is 
 severed, unite." he repeated to himself; — "here
 
 118 GENEROUS WORDS. 
 
 it is, What is united, sever ! " and he glanced 
 at George and his mother. 
 
 " That won't do at all," said Eddy, overhear- 
 ing him ; " that sounds bad — shocking bad ! " 
 
 " Does it ? " said Mr. Hardcastle, laughiDg. 
 " Well, I really believe that it does. So George 
 teaches you to be busy, and obedient, and kind, 
 and makes you all happy ; does he, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " cried Eddy, jumping down and 
 running up to his brother. 
 
 " It would be a shame to part you, then, it 
 would be a shame ! " said the old man, rising. 
 " No, no ; I am not so bad as that ! George, 
 stay with your parents ; you are an honour to 
 them, my boy ! stay and be a comfort and 
 blessing in your home ! — And now, Ellerslie, 
 shall we start for the city ? " 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe the deep, 
 intense joy which followed the utterance of 
 these few words, the delight which sparkled 
 in the eyes of George, or the fervent exclama- 
 tion of thankfulness from his mother ! — but 
 none looked merrier than the kindhearted old 
 man himself, unless it were our little friend 
 Eddy.
 
 DIFFERENT PATHS, THE SAME END, 119 
 
 I have often thought of that scene since, and 
 talked it over with the Thimble, She has be- 
 come too small for Lily's finger now, but oc- 
 cupies a quiet comer in the box. The broken- 
 pointed Scissors I have lost sight of for years. 
 Lily has grown into a sweet, gentle young 
 maiden, ever watchful to show kindness to 
 those who need it, ever thoughtful of the feel- 
 ings of others. Her mother speaks of her now 
 as her " right hand ; " and the bloom has re- 
 turned to the lady's pale cheek, and her brow 
 is calm and serene. George has entered the 
 Church, I understand ; and Eddy, like the com- 
 pass in the story, is pui'suing his way on the 
 wide ocean. But I have reason to beUeve that, 
 in their different paths, both are pressing for- 
 ward to the same happy goal, and in their 
 intercourse with the world, as weU as in their 
 peaceful home, are living in the spirit of the 
 song — 
 
 " On life's ocean wide, 
 
 Your fellow-creatures g^uide, 
 And point to a shore beyond the stormy tide I 
 
 What is marred, make right ; 
 
 What is severed, unite ; 
 Ajid leave where'er yor pass love's golden thread of light 1 "
 
 GLORY 
 
 'HAT a proud, happy young fello\^ 
 that Prince Imperial must be ! " 
 exclaimed Harry Lance, as he 
 glanced up from the newspaper 
 which he had been reading by the 
 light of a lamp, on the evening of the 4th of 
 August. " Why, here is this young Louis, not 
 a year older than myself, and already there is 
 a telegram about him darting all over Europe, 
 and the world will soon know how calm and 
 brave he was the first time that he ever saw 
 fighting, how he picked up the Prussian ball 
 which had fallen near his feet, and how old 
 soldiers had tears in their eyes to see their 
 boy Prince so firm in the moment of danger.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF A UBBO. 121 
 
 I dare say that he will live to cover himseli 
 with glory, and be as famous as was his great- 
 uncle, Napoleon the First. I only wish thai 1 
 were the son of the Emperor of the French ! " 
 
 " I should not care to change places with 
 the Prince Imperial," observed Arthur Lance, 
 who was seated by the open window, to enjoy 
 the fresh evening air, and watch the stars 
 gleaming out one by one in the sky. 
 
 " What ! not to have his chance of winning 
 gloiy, and of being talked of — like his gieat- 
 uncle — years and years after his death ? " 
 
 Arthur smiled at the question, " I don't 
 think that would do him much good," observed 
 he. 
 
 " You've not a spark of spirit in you^ 
 Arthur ! " cried Harry ; " at least not a spark 
 of the spirit of a hero. I do believe that you 
 would rather have been that missionary who 
 went to teach woolly-haired niggers, and died 
 of yellow fever, than the glorious Napoleon 
 Buonaparte himself ! " 
 
 Arthur was silent ; but his mother, who 
 had just joined him by the window, observed, 
 " I believe that the missionary's was the nobler
 
 122 
 
 LASTING GLORY. 
 
 life, the happier death, and the more lasting 
 glory." 
 
 NAPOLEON AS A BOY DIRECTING A SNOW-BALL FIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, not glory, mother ! " exclaimed Harry. 
 •There was no glory in the humdrum life
 
 A liKADER OF OTHERS. 123 
 
 which he led, and ten years hence no one will 
 so much as remember his name. Napoleon 
 had glory indeed ! From his very boyhood he 
 was a leader of others. If his schoolfellows 
 had a mimic fight, it was Napoleon who 
 directed the battle, and taught future soldiers 
 to pelt each other with snow-balls, as they 
 would one day pelt their foes with something 
 more deadly. What power Napoleon had over 
 his men ! How his words could rouse them 
 to rush to battle as if to a feast ! How grand 
 and glorious he must have looked on a field 
 of battle, as he glanced down the columns of 
 armed men eager to follow him to victoiy, and 
 heard their shouts of Vive l' Empereur, as they 
 pressed forward to glory ! One such hour of 
 Napoleon's life must have been worth ten years 
 of the life of a drudging teacher of niggers ! " 
 The boy's eyes sparkled with animation as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "There was one hour of Napoleon's life 
 when he is said to have himself played the 
 teacher, and I think that he appeared greater 
 then than on the battle-field," said Mrs. Lance 
 '* I will show you a large print which I have
 
 124 NAPOLEON AS A TEACHEK. 
 
 representing the scene. It describes an inci- 
 dent which is said to have occurred on the 
 deck of a vessel in which Napoleon, then a 
 young officer, was making his voyage to Egypt. 
 A group of French officers had been conversing 
 together, speaking like the fool of whom we 
 read in the Bible, who says that there is no 
 Ood. The glittering stars were spangling the 
 sky above them, shining down as they have 
 shone for thousands of years, and bearing wit- 
 ness to the power of their great Creator. Tlce 
 heavens declare the glory of Ood, and the fir- 
 mament sheweth his handywork. Napoleon 
 approached the unbelievers, Ufted up his hand 
 towards the stars, and said, ' Gentlemen, who 
 made these ? ' The officers could not reply ; 
 even their blinded souls could see the awful 
 truth taught by the stars — that there is, that 
 there must be, a great and glorious Creator ! " 
 
 " But was Napoleon himself a religious 
 man ? " inquired Arthur. 
 
 " I fear that he was far from being so," was 
 the reply. " No real Christian could for his 
 own wild ambition plunge nations into war, 
 and sacrifice the lives of hundreds of thousands
 
 A HT8T0RY WRITTEN IN BLOOD. 125 
 
 of men. If Napoleon Buonaparte's name is 
 written in history, it is written in blood, and 
 fire, and tears. I have often wished that the 
 stars, which preached one text to Napoleon, 
 could have preached one other to his heart ; 
 then the conqueror would have felt that there 
 is a glory greater and more lasting than that 
 which earthly triumphs can give." 
 
 " I cannot think what text you mean," said 
 Aj^ihur. 
 
 " Nor can I," added his brother. 
 
 Their mother left them to find it out, and 
 continued her observations. "The same stars 
 on which Napoleon had looked from the deck of 
 the ship, must often have met his gaze in the 
 distant lands to which he led his hosts — those 
 lands in which so many gallant soldiers were 
 to find their graves." 
 
 " Ah ! how fearfully the French sufiered in 
 Russia," interrupted Harry ; " certainly there 
 Napoleon's history was written in blood, and 
 fire, and tears. I've read how the Russians 
 burned their own beautiful city of Moscow, 
 that it might not give shelter to the invaders." 
 
 " The Russians showed themselves to be
 
 126 GLORY BOUGHT TOO DEAR. 
 
 ready to make any sacrifice in order to drive 
 the French out of their land," observed Mrs. 
 Lance. " The Russians fought bravely, but it 
 was the rigour of their wintry clime, the icy 
 wind, the falling snow, that proved more deadly 
 to the French than even the swords of their 
 foes. Multitudes of gallant men, who had 
 entered Russia full of hope and courage, per- 
 ished miserably under the snow. And who 
 can tell the grief in thousands and thousands 
 of homes in France, where widows and orphans 
 wept for fathers, brothers, sons, whom they 
 never should see again ? " 
 
 " I own that Napoleon bought his glory too 
 dear," said Harry gravely. 
 
 " No doubt he thought so himself," observed 
 Aj-thur, "when, as a prisoner in St. Helena, 
 he had plenty of time to remember all these 
 terrible things." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Lance ; " on that dreary 
 rocky isle bitterly must the mighty conqueror 
 have recalled the past. There, unchanged in 
 their calm brightness, the quiet stars shone 
 over him still, and they may have reminded 
 the exile — "
 
 FIREWORKS. 
 
 127 
 
 NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. 
 
 " Ha ! what's that ? " interrupted Harry, 
 suddenly starting from his seat and rushing to 
 the window, as, with a rushing, whizzing noise, 
 a rocket shot up into the deep bkie sky. 
 
 " Oh ! don't you remember that we heard 
 that there were to be fireworks to-night in the 
 Earl's grounds ? " said Arthur. " I am so glad 
 that we shall be able to see the rockets over 
 the trees. Look — oh ! look — there's another ! 
 it rises higher than the first ! " 
 
 " How beautiful — how grand — how glorious 
 it is!" exclaimed Hfirry, clapping his hands 
 with delight. " It darts aloft like a conqueror
 
 128 TTPK8 OF WORLDLY GLOB^ 
 
 rising upwards and upwards ; and there^ — see 
 how it bursts into a shower of stars — much 
 brighter than stars — filling the sky with its 
 spangles of light ! There is nothing so glorious 
 to look upon as a rocket ! " 
 
 For nearly an hour the mother and her sons 
 watched the beautiful fireworks over the trees, 
 the rockets bursting on high into showers of 
 many-coloured sparks which entirely hid the 
 stars from view. Then, after the grandest 
 display of all, the sight concluded ; all was 
 over, the beauty and the glory. Quiet night 
 reigned around, and the stars which had 
 gemmed the sky since the days of Adam, 
 glimmered again in their silent beauty on high. 
 
 " The rockets were very fine, but their glory 
 was soon over," observed Harry, as he turned 
 from the window. " They have gone, and 
 have left nothing behind." 
 
 "They are types of worldly glory," said his 
 mother. 
 
 "And the stars are like — oh, mother," ex- 
 claimed Arthur, interrupting himself in the 
 midst of his sentence, " I have just remembered 
 the text which you wished that the stars had
 
 LESSONS FROM THE STARS. 129 
 
 preached to the heart of Napoleon — It makes 
 me think of the young missionary who died 
 amongst the Africans whom he had led to the 
 Lord : They that he wise shall shine as the 
 brightness of the firmament ; and they that 
 turn many to righteousness as the stars for 
 ever aTid ever /" (Dan. xii 3.) 
 
 (559)
 
 THE VICTORY. 
 
 [RITZ ARNT was the son of a poor 
 widow, who dwelt near the shore of 
 the Rhine. He had been her chief 
 comfort and helper since the day 
 when Carl Gesner, the hard-hearted 
 farmer, had turned her and her three children 
 out of their cottage the very afternoon on 
 which the funeral of her husband had taken 
 place. In the middle of .winter the sobbing 
 widow had to go forth from her home ; carry- 
 ing Little with her, for Carl had seized on most 
 of her goods for the rent, which during her 
 husband's long illn^s had fallen into arrears. 
 Yes I he had kept the very bed upon which 
 her husband had breathed his last ; and but
 
 BITTER FEELINGS. 131 
 
 for the kindness of neighbours, Frau Arnt and 
 her children would have had to sleep on straw. 
 
 Fritz had been but a young boy then ; but 
 he had never forgotten the bitterness of that 
 moment when his mother, sad, sick, and deso- 
 late, had pleaded with clasped hands to her 
 hard-hearted landlord for a little delay, and 
 had pleaded in vain. Fritz had helped to 
 nurse her through a dangerous illness which 
 followed. The boy had never forgiven the 
 farmer, but had often said in his heart that a 
 time would come when he should make Carl 
 Gesner bitterly repent having nearly caused 
 the death of a sorrowing widow. 
 
 Since that sad winter Fritz had worked 
 hard to help to support the family, and with 
 increasing success. His wages for field labour 
 eked out what Frau Arnt earned at the lace- 
 pillow ; and something like comfort was begin- 
 ning to be enjoyed in his humble home, when 
 the sound of the war-bugle was heard in his 
 native valley, and the news spread far and 
 wide that a fierce and terrible foe was on the 
 march to invade the German's Fatherland- 
 Fritz was under the age for military service
 
 132 Fritz's patriotism. 
 
 which all Prussians are bound to give ; but he 
 had a strong arm, and his country needed 
 strong arms. He was eager to serve his king, 
 and be one of the throngs that from every 
 hamlet were hasting to join the ranks of the 
 army. 
 
 But Fritz was too good a son to go without 
 his widowed mother's consent He had not 
 only learned, but kept, that divine command- 
 ment, Honour tht father and thy mother. 
 The lad would not quit his home without 
 obtaining that leave which he was almost afraid 
 to ask. 
 
 Frau Amt was sitting with her lace-pillow 
 on her knee, the glow of the evening sun shin- 
 ing on her thin, worn face, when Fritz drew 
 near. He watched for some moments her busy 
 fingers plying the threads, before he observed, — 
 
 " My brother Wilhelm is a strong boy now, 
 and older than I was when we first came 
 here." 
 
 He paused : there was no reply. The widow 
 guessed what was coming, and her fingers 
 moved faster than before. 
 
 " Farmer Schwartz says that he would give
 
 LOVE AND DUTY. 133 
 
 Wilhelm my place, mother, and make hia 
 wages the same as mine, if — " 
 
 Fritz stopped again, and glanced anxiously 
 into the face of his mother. She suddenly 
 paused in her work ; her hands were trem- 
 bling too much to guide the threads, and her 
 eyes were swimming in tears, so that she could 
 not see the pattern. Fritz knew then that his 
 mother read his thoughts, and that there was a 
 struggle in her mind between her love for him 
 and a sense of duty. It was some time before, 
 in a very low voice, he spoke again : — 
 
 " Mother, men are needed to guard your 
 home and other homes. You have two sons ; 
 will you not spare one to your Fatherland ? " 
 
 The widow suddenly rose ; her pillow 
 dropped from her knee ; her arms were thrown 
 around the neck of her son, and her face was 
 buried on his shoulder, as she sobbed forth, — 
 
 " Go, and the Lord be with thee, my son ! " 
 
 Very little time was spent in prepai-ation by 
 Fritz. The very next day he set out for the 
 anny. But before doing so, Fritz, accompanied 
 by Wilhelm and their sister, went round the 
 hamlet to bid good-bye to his friends. There
 
 134 
 
 FAREWELL VISITS. 
 
 TRITZ BIDDING GOOD-BYE TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 was but one house which Fritz would not 
 enter : it was that at whose door stood Carl 
 Gesner and his wife, watching him as he bade 
 farewell to friends on the opposite side of the 
 road. At that time of excitement all Prussians 
 were ready to show kindness to the brave 
 defenders of their land ; and Fritz knew that 
 even Carl might be willing to make friends 
 with a young soldier then, for the farmer had
 
 ENCOURAGING WORDS. 135 
 
 auch patriotic zeal as to talk of joining the 
 army himself. But Fritz would have nothing 
 to do with Cari Gesner. " I will never cross 
 the threshold nor grasp the hand of a man 
 who turned us all out of doors, and nearly 
 killed my mother," muttered Fritz to himself, 
 as he strode past the house of the farmer. 
 
 I will not dwell upon the bitter parting. 
 Frau Amt felt as if her heart would break ; 
 for she had heard so much of the power of 
 France, that she deemed that her country was 
 entering on a desperate struggle indeed, and 
 that there was small chance that she would 
 ever again behold her gallant young son. But 
 the frau was a pious woman : she committed 
 her boy to the care of a heavenly Father ; and 
 her last words to Fritz as they parted were, 
 " Remember that it is God that giveth the 
 victory." 
 
 Often these encouraging words came back to 
 the young soldier's mind, as he marched with 
 his comrades singing the soul-stirring song, — 
 
 " Deax Fatherland! no fear be thine; 
 Firm hearts and true watch by the Rhine!" 
 
 The regiment to which Fritz was attached
 
 136 FIRST SIGHT OF THE ENKMY. 
 
 was not engaged in the first battles. Several 
 weeks passed before the youth was brought 
 face to face with strife and death. The time 
 was not spent idly. Fritz learned much that 
 a soldier must know : he learned not only his 
 drill exercise, but also how to endure hardship 
 and toiL 
 
 At last Fritz's regiment joined one of the 
 army corps on the eve of a great battle. At 
 the end of a long march Fritz reached the 
 Prussian camp, and from a hill-side looked for 
 the first time on the enemy's hosts ranged on 
 the opposite slopes. They were near enough 
 for Fritz to catch the faint sound of their 
 trumpet-call as the sun went down — near 
 enough for him to distinguish the colour of 
 their flags, before night shut out all but camp- 
 fii-es from his view. And Fritz heard and saw 
 what made his heart beat fast — the booming 
 of French cannon, and the pufis of white smoke 
 which rose above them ; for a few shots were 
 exchanged on that evening between the two 
 armies that were so soon to close in deadly 
 strife. 
 
 The eve of a first battle is a solemn time
 
 GERMAN BATTLE-PRAYHR. 137 
 
 even to the bravest of men. " One of these 
 cannon may bring my death -summons to- 
 morrow," thought Fritz, as he stood leaning on 
 his gun, with his eyes turned towards the 
 enemy's quarters, which darkness was now 
 shrouding from his sight. Then from the lad's 
 lips rose the German battle-prayer — that noble 
 hymn composed by the poet Komer, who fell 
 defending his country against the First Na- 
 poleon : — 
 
 "Father, IcaJlonTheel 
 Through the dense smoke the war-thimder is pealing ; 
 Over my head the fierce lightning is wheeling; 
 
 Ruler of armies, I call on thee; 
 
 Father, O guide Thou me 1 
 
 " Father, now lead me on 1 
 JLead me to slaughter, or lead me to glory \ 
 Since Thou ordainest whate'er is before me, 
 
 Whate'er Thou wiliest, Thy will be done 
 
 To Thee I bow alone 1 
 
 " Father, bless and guide 1 
 Thine is my life, and to Thee I comanend it ; 
 Thou didst bestow it, and Thou canst defend it : 
 In life, in death, with me abide, 
 And be Thou glorified ! " 
 
 "And can I thus calmly commend my spirit 
 to my heavenly Father ? " thought Fritz. " If, 
 as is likely enough, I am to be one of those
 
 138 THE EVE OF BATTLE. 
 
 who will lie stiff and stark in yon valley before 
 the setting of to-morrow's sun, am I sure that 
 I have made my peace with God so that death 
 need have no terrors for me ? " — In how many 
 brave souls must such thoughts arise on the 
 eve of battle ! 
 
 " My mother has often told me that we are 
 saved by faith " — thus Fritz went on with his 
 musings — "and I can say from my heart that 
 I do believe. Yes ! I believe in Him through 
 whom is forgiveness of sins ; I believe in His 
 mercy, His merits. His Word " — Fritz almost 
 stai'tcd, for at that moment one sentence spoken 
 by the Holy One flashed across his memory, 
 and by that sentence he stood condemned : — 
 "If ye forgive not men their trespasses, 
 neither will your father forgive your 
 TRESPASSES." Fritz Ai-nt thought of Cai'l 
 Gesner. 
 
 " Have I not nourished hatred and malice 
 in my heart for years ? " thought the young 
 soldier. *' Then have my very prayers been a 
 mockery ; then am I stiU UNFORGIVEN. J 
 dare face an earthly foe, but how dare I face 
 a heavenly Judge? But how can I conquer
 
 FRENCH AND GERMANS. 139 
 
 these feelings of dislike and revenge — these 
 enemies in my heart ? They seem to be part 
 of my very nature." 
 
 Then the night breeze seemed to whisper to 
 the young soldier the words last heard from 
 the lips of his mother, — " It is Ood that giveih 
 the victory." Fritz sank on his knees and 
 prayed, not now for help in the coming strife 
 with the enemies of his country, but for help in 
 the present struggle with the enemies of his souL 
 
 Very fearful was the battle on the following 
 day. Let us pass over the fearful details, nor 
 describe how God's creatures destroyed each 
 other by thousands, till the Germans fought 
 their way to victory over heaps of the slain* 
 Their triumph was dearly purchased indeed ; 
 numbers of their bravest fell beneath the deadly 
 fire of the French. Fritz rushed forward, with 
 a few soldiers of his own and of another regi- 
 ment, to seize a French gun which had made 
 temble havoc in the Prussian lines. Ahnost 
 before the smoke from the last discharge of 
 that gun had cleared away, there was a hand- 
 to-hand struggle around it. In the confusion 
 of that struggle Fritz saw a Prussian fall under
 
 140 FRITZ SAVICS CARL GESNER. 
 
 a blow fioin a Frenchman's sword. Even at 
 he fell, Fritz caught a glimpse of his face : 
 begrimed as it was with smoke and dust, the 
 young soldier recognized the features of Carl 
 Gesner ! The Frenchman's sword was raised 
 again to kill the prostrate Prussian ; but Fritz 
 sprang forward, warded the blow, and at the 
 same moment himself fell to the earth, struck 
 in the thigh by a musket ball from another 
 quarter. 
 
 Sudden darkness seemed to come over the 
 wounded youth. A rushing noise in his ears 
 drowned even the roar of cannon and the sound 
 of tumult and shouting. Fritz Arnt swooned, 
 and lay for many hours senseless under the 
 muzzle of the gun which he had helped to 
 capture. 
 
 When Fritz again opened his eyes, the 
 tumult had died away ; the battle was over ; 
 the calm stars were looking down from the 
 midnight sky upon heaps of dead and dying. 
 Fritz was in severe pain, but gradually quite 
 recovered his senses, and could think again on 
 his mother, and silently lift up his heart in the 
 battle-prayer.
 
 AITER THE BATTLK. 141 
 
 ■' Oh for one drop of water ! I am dying 
 of thirst 1 " groaned a wounded Prussian beside 
 him. 
 
 The voice was that of Carl Gesner, who lay 
 within a yard's length of the youth who had 
 saved his life from the Frenchman's sword. 
 Fritz made no reply. His lips too were 
 parched and dry, and the fever thirst was upon 
 him. Oh, how he longed for one draught of 
 the pure fresh spring which gushed forth near 
 the home of his widowed mother ! 
 
 Presently lights were seen moving over the 
 dark field : helpers of the wounded were going 
 about on their errand of mercy. But there 
 were too few of them to do the work quickly ; 
 for so many poor soldiers lay low that it was 
 impossible in one night to relieve the terrible 
 wants of alL With keen anxiety Fritz watched 
 the distant lights, while Carl Gesner lay groan- 
 ing beside him. At last a torch-bearer drew 
 near, with a companion who bore a red cross on 
 his arm and a large water-flask in his hand. 
 
 " I must go back to refill the flask ; there 
 are but a few drops of water left in it," ob- 
 served one of the men.
 
 142 TWICK A CONQUEROR. 
 
 Fritz half raised himself on his elbow with 
 a desperate effort. 
 
 " Help ! help 1 " he cried out ; for the very 
 name of water made his thirst more intense. 
 
 " Here, my poor fellow ! would that I had 
 more with me ! " said the bearer of the flask, 
 stooping down to pour its last contents into 
 the mouth of the wounded young soldier. 
 
 There was again a faint groan from Carl 
 Gesner. He was then too faint to speak, but 
 his groan fell on the ear of Fritz Arnt. " If 
 
 THINE ENEMY THIRST, GIVE HIM TO DRINK,'" 
 
 Fritz in the midst of his pain and want remem- 
 bered the Lord's command. 
 
 "Give it to that man instead," he mur- 
 mui-ed ; " he is more badly wounded than I 
 am." And with the generous request on his 
 lips the brave soldier fainted again. 
 
 There lay Fritz, twice a conqueror — over 
 the foe, and over himself. God had given him 
 the victory. 
 
 « » « * 
 
 When Fritz awoke again from what had 
 seemed the slumber of death, he foimd himself 
 in an hospital, to which the helpers of the
 
 FRITZ'S RETURN HOME. 143 
 
 wounded had borne him. There he lay for 
 many weeks, during the latter part of the time 
 nursed by his own dear mother. During his 
 slow recovery, Fritz was cheered by the know- 
 ledge that he had been enabled to do his duty, 
 and by tidings of one triumph after another 
 gained by the arms of Prussia. 
 
 Fritz was at length able to leave the hospi- 
 tal, but he was too lame to rejoin the army. 
 He had to go back with his mother to their 
 poor home, which would be poorer, Fritz 
 thought, than ever ; for he was too weak for 
 labour, and while his mother had been nursing 
 him, she could not earn money by work. 
 
 On a morning in September, Frau Amt and 
 her wounded son returned to their native vil- 
 lage. Fritz, weak and lame, had to lean on 
 his mother's arm for support, as the two walked 
 the short distance from the railway station. 
 
 " Strange that WUhelm should not have 
 been here to welcome us !" observed the widow. 
 " He cannot have received my note to tell of 
 our coming." 
 
 " Don't let us pass our old cottage, mother," 
 said Fritz faintly. " I have never liked to
 
 144 A SURPRISK. 
 
 go near it since Carl Gesner turned us out 
 of it." 
 
 " Nay, my son ; we must take the shortest 
 path home," said the widow. "And as for 
 Carl Gesner, have you not told me how freely 
 you have forgiven him ? " 
 
 Turning a comer of the road as she spoke, 
 the old cottage lay straight before her. 
 
 " Why, there is Carl Gesner himself," ex- 
 claimed Fritz, " nailing something to the wall !" 
 
 " And Wilhelm helping him in his work 1 " 
 cried the widow, in great surprise. 
 
 At the sound of his mother's voice, Wilhelm 
 turned suddenly round, and, at the sight of her 
 and his brother, uttered a loud exclamation. 
 The boy then bounded towards them, his eyes 
 sparkling with joy at Fritz's return, and with 
 another joy the cause of which he had yet to 
 keep a secret. 
 
 It was not a secret long. The glad exclama- 
 tion uttered by Wilhelm drew the attention of 
 Carl Gesner, whose back had been turned. 
 The moment that he saw Fritz Arnt he has- 
 tened towards him. 
 
 " My brother-soldier, ray brave young pre-
 
 ACKNOWLEDGING A DEBT. 145 
 
 server, welcome ! " cried Carl, holding out his 
 hand ; and Fritz would not now refuse to 
 exchange a cordial grasp with the man whom 
 he once had hated, " I joined the army soon 
 after you did," continued Carl Gesner. " Like 
 yourself, I have had to leave it on account of 
 my wounds, though my recovery has been more 
 rapid than yours. You look weary, but rest ia 
 at hand. Here is your home ; it is put into 
 perfect repair. Let us enter it now together." 
 
 " Our home ! " exclaimed Fritz and his 
 mother in a breath. 
 
 " Yes, yours to the end of your days," said 
 Carl Gesner. "Frau Amt, I owe to your 
 noble boy my life ; and more than my life. I 
 do not attempt to repay my debt by the gift 
 of his father's cottage, which I would that you 
 had never left. I but show that I acknow- 
 ledge that debt. You will find the place 
 improved," he added, more cheerfully. " We 
 have been planting creepers to train up the 
 wall ; and I have had a board painted, to be 
 hung up just below the lattice, to serve as a 
 memorial of the battle in which Fritz and I 
 fought side by side." 
 
 (509) 10
 
 146 A STRANOK COINCIDKNCTC. 
 
 Carl Gesner took up the board as he spoke, 
 and turned it so that all could see the gilded 
 letters upon it. Fritz glanced at the inscrip- 
 tion, then at his mother, and smiled. Was it 
 not strange that Carl Gesner should have 
 happened to choose for the motto on the wall 
 of the cottage the very words which had had 
 such a deep effect on the heart of Fritz? 
 There they were, to shine brightly from hence- 
 forth on his happy home, the parting words of 
 his mother, — 
 
 It w (?f)oii toho oilicth the "^ictorp.
 
 BEARING BURDENS. 
 
 EAR ye one another's burdens," said 
 David Jones to himself, repeating 
 the text as he walked home from 
 church. " Our pastor has made it 
 very plain. In this world, he says, 
 every soul has some burden of sorrow or trial 
 to bear, and every one who loves God must try 
 to help his neighbour to bear it. Now it is 
 clear enough that the squire does this when he 
 gives blankets and coals to the poor at Christ- 
 mas ; and our parson does this, for every one in 
 trouble is sure to go straight to him ; but I 
 can't see how a boy like me is to do it. 1 can't 
 give hke the squire, or talk like the parson i 
 yet r Hhould hke to help to bear some one's
 
 148 HiLPma othxbs. 
 
 burden ; for, as it was said in the sermon, it 
 is a blessed thing to do anything for the Lord 
 who has done everything for us ; and when we 
 help a poor neighbour for His sake, He counts 
 it as done to Himself. I'll pray God to show 
 me some way of bearing another's burdens." 
 
 So before David went to rest that night, he 
 made a little simple prayer that God would 
 give him some work, however small, to do for 
 Him, and let him be useful to others. 
 
 The first thought of David, when the bright 
 rays of the sun awoke him on Monday morn- 
 ing, was, — " Here is another day ; I hope that 
 it will not pass over without my helping some 
 one to bear his burden ; " and again he turned 
 the thought into a prayer. While David was 
 putting on his clothes, an idea came into his 
 mind, — 
 
 " Poor old Mrs. Crane, she is almost bent 
 double with age, and haid work it is for her to 
 draw up water from her welL She is a good 
 old woman, Mrs. Crane, and was always ready 
 to help others before she grew so feeble. I'll 
 have time, before I set out for school, to draw 
 up a pail of water and carry it to her door.
 
 A SWKBT TH0T7GHT. H9 
 
 Won't it be a nice surprise to her, when she 
 comes out to draw, to find the water all ready! 
 Old age is her burden — I can help her a little 
 to bear it." 
 
 David was soon off to the welL He let 
 down the bucket and filled it ; and as he 
 turned the windlass to raise it again, a very 
 sweet thought came into the mind of the boy. 
 " Our Lord asked the woman of Samaria to 
 draw water for Him, and she did not do it; 
 yet what an honour it would have been to her 
 — had she been a queen — to have drawn water 
 for the Son of God ! Now the Lord said, Itit 
 aamuch as ye did it vmto the least of these my 
 brethren, ye did it unto Me ; " so I really am 
 doing what the woman would not do, — I am 
 drawing water for the blessed Saviour ; for I 
 am sure that Mrs. Crane is His servant, and so, 
 working for her, I am working for Him." 
 
 The boy cheerfully placed the pail of water 
 at the door of Mrs. Crane, and soon after set 
 out for school, carrying with him his dinner of 
 bread and cheese, wrapped up in a bit of brown 
 paper. " I am glad that I have done one little 
 kind act to-day," thought David ; " but it does
 
 150 stejenby's buudkw. 
 
 not seem very likely that I shall be able to do 
 any other." 
 
 He very soon found that he was wrong. 
 There are so many burdens, great and small, 
 in the world, that even a child who is on the 
 look-out for an opportunity of doing good, will 
 not wait long before he find one. 
 
 David overtook on the road little Steeney 
 Clark, who was slowly walking towards school 
 
 " Good morning, Steeney," cried David. 
 " Why do you look so dull and sad ? " 
 
 " 'Cause I'm sure Mr. Day will punish me 
 again," answered the poor duU boy, who was 
 always getting into trouble with the master at 
 his school " I didn't know my lesson yester^ 
 day, I don't know it to-day, I don't think as I 
 ever shaU know it ! " and the boy rubbed his 
 forehead hard, as if he fancied that he could 
 make his wits brighter by rubbing. 
 
 " Let's see what you have to learn," said 
 David. " Maybe if you and I go over it to- 
 gether as we walk along, you may understand 
 it a bit better. Pluck up a brave heart, Steeney. 
 You know 'perseverance conquers difficulties,* 
 and * slow and steady wins the race.' "
 
 HELP BY THK WAY. 161 
 
 It was very cheering to poor Steeney to have 
 some one to help and encourage him, instead 
 of laughing at his natural dulness. David was 
 one of the sharpest boys in the school, but he 
 did not despise his poor young companion for 
 not being so clever as himself. As the two 
 walked on together, David explained all the 
 difficulties of the lesson so clearly to Steeney, 
 that the dull face of the boy brightened. He 
 was able at last to master the task — he would 
 not be set down as a hopeless dunce by his 
 master. David entered the school-room feeling 
 very happy. He had helped a fellow-creature 
 again to bear a burden. 
 
 " How pale Mr. Day looks," thought David, 
 as the schoolmaster stood up behind his desk, 
 and rapped with the ruler to command silence. 
 Mr. Day was not a great favourite with the 
 boys, for he was sometimes severe, and easily 
 put out of temp^. The truth was that his 
 work was too much for him, as any one might 
 have seen by looking at his thin worn face vnth 
 its deep furrow between the brows. Mr. Day 
 would have liked David for his quickness in 
 learning, but for the trouble which he gave by
 
 152 A schoolmaster's trials. 
 
 hia love of frolic and fun ; for David was a 
 very meiTy boy, and could scarcely keep quiet 
 in school-time. He would drum on a desk, or 
 kick on the floor, and set the other boys laugh- 
 ing. David had never seen much harm in 
 this, though it had often brought him into a 
 scrape with the master ; but it struck him this 
 day for the first time that it was not fair to a 
 tired hard-worked master to add to the labour 
 of teaching. 
 
 " Mr. Day looks as if he'd a mighty heavy 
 burden to bear, and I'm afraid I've often helped 
 to make it heavier. I'll tr}'^ and be quiet and 
 steady to-day, and set a good example to the 
 boys about me," thought David. 
 
 He kept his resolution ; and glad indeed 
 would he have been that he had done so, had 
 he known with what an aching heart and ach- 
 hig head the poor master had begun his day's 
 work. Mr. Day had private griefs, about 
 which his pupils knew nothing, which sorely 
 imbittered his life. He was also subject to 
 racking headaches, which the noise of a school- 
 room increased to such a painful degree, tbftt 
 he would long before have given up his office.
 
 UNEIPKCTED RKLIKF. 153 
 
 had he not had a wife and childien to sup- 
 port, 
 
 " I fear that I cannot stand this work much 
 longer," poor Mr. Day had said to himself that 
 morning. He was like a weary pack-horse 
 dragging a weight beyond its strength up a 
 steep hill ; and, from mere thoughtlessness, his 
 pupils had often acted like boys dragging on 
 behind. But things went on better on this 
 Monday ; and Mr. Day told his wife as they sat 
 down to dinner that he had had much less 
 worry than usual with the boys. He did not 
 guess the cause of the relief — that one of his 
 best scholai's had been on that day helping to 
 bear his burden, 
 
 David Jones, as I have said, had brought 
 with him his dinner of bread and cheese, as his 
 home was at some distance from the school 
 He sat down under a hedge with a good appe- 
 tite to enjoy his simple meal. Scarcely had 
 David begun it, when, chancing to raise his 
 eyes, he saw a ragged half-starved-looking 
 child, wistfully watching him as he ate. 
 
 " I dare say that poor little creature has had 
 no breakfast to-day," thought David, " and
 
 154 rKKDIHO THIS HUNGRr. 
 
 maybe no supper last night. Should I not be 
 doing a little thing to please my Lord if I 
 shared my dinner with her ? " 
 
 He broke off a piece of bread, and, smiling, 
 held it out to the girl, who eagerly ran forward 
 to get it, and ate it as if she were famished. 
 
 " And there's a bit of the cheese too," said 
 David kindly, watching the hungry girl's en- 
 joyment with a pleasure which made his own 
 scanty meal appear like a feast David knew 
 weU that our best works deserve no reward from 
 Ood, yet he could not but recall with joy the 
 gi-acious promise to those who feed the poor : 
 7%ey cannot recompense thee ; for thou shall he 
 recompensed at the resurrection of the just. 
 
 When afternoon lessons were over, David, 
 whistling as he went, set out on his homeward 
 way. " It is a strange thing," thought he* 
 " but whenever we try to bear other people's 
 burdens, it seems as if our own hearts grew 
 lighter and lighter ! " 
 
 As David passed by an orchard, divided from 
 the road by a rough stone wall, he heard a 
 voice calling to him, and came up to Owen 
 Pell — a boy of about his own age — who was
 
 TflMPTATlON. 155 
 
 looking up at the fine ripe fruit hanging ahnost 
 over the wall 
 
 " I say, Davy ; lend me a hand. I think I 
 can climb over here." He was already mount- 
 ing the wall " Let's fill our pockets with 
 apples. Don't they look tempting and nice ? " 
 
 " Nice or not, they're not ours," replied 
 David, who remembered that God's command- 
 ment, Tliou shalt not steal, is broken not only 
 by robbers who take a man's purse, but by 
 boys who take his apples. 
 
 " We'll soon make 'em ours," laughed Owea 
 " If you don't choose to climb yourself — though 
 I know you're active as a kitten — just lend 
 me your stick, and I'll knock some fruit off 
 from that bough." 
 
 " No, no, Owen," said David ; " leave the 
 apples alone. Farmer Ford does not grow 
 them for you or for me. I'll neither pluck nor 
 help you to pluck them." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " cried the angry Owea 
 " You're afeard of a thrashing from the farmer, 
 are you ? " 
 
 " It's not that I'm afraid of," said David, 
 turning quickly away ; for he felt his passion
 
 156 tfKS. PKLL'S DUO&S. 
 
 rifling, and was much inclined to use hia stick 
 In a very different way from that which the 
 insolent boy had requested, by knocking him 
 down instead of the apples. 
 
 "I can't bear that Owen," muttered David 
 to himself. " How he is yelling after me, 
 calling me all sorts of bad names, just because 
 I won't join him in theft ! " 
 
 Before David reached his home, he came on 
 a wide tract of common, and noticed a number 
 of ducks splashing about in a pool half hidden 
 by rushes. 
 
 "Why, these are Mrs. PeU's ducks, that 
 her boy Owen ought to be watching on the 
 common, instead of hunting after apples. I 
 heard her scolding him yesterday for leaving 
 them out so late, and promising him a sound 
 beating if any should stray and get lost. 
 There's Brown's big dog coming this way ; he 
 has had a mind to a duckling for supper before 
 now. If Owen does not keep a better look-out, 
 it's not many of the brood that he'll ever drive 
 home. What a scrape he'll be in! When Mrs, Pell 
 promises a beating, she is certain to keep her word. 
 Well, let Owen be beaten, — what do I care!"
 
 aOOD FOR SVTL. 157 
 
 That was David's first thought ; but a more 
 generous one succeeded " I might drive home 
 these ducks for Owen, and keep them and him 
 out of trouble. To be sure, he deserves nothing 
 from me ; but are we not told to be kind even 
 to the unthankful and the evil? I should 
 think that God is pleased when we bear the 
 burdens of our friends ; more pleased when we 
 bear the burdens of strangers ; but most pleased 
 of all when, for His sake, we show kindness to 
 those who have done us a wrong." 
 
 In the meantime, Owen Pell had had cause 
 to regret that he had neglected his mother's 
 ducks to go after the farmer's apples. Owen 
 was not an active boy. In struggling to climb 
 up the wall, he missed his footing, and came 
 down with a heavy bang on the back of his 
 head. He had just scrambled on his feet again, 
 bruised and crying with pain, when who should 
 ride up to the spot but Farmer Ford, with a 
 great horse- whip in his hand ! 
 
 " What are you crying for ? " callea out the 
 farmer. 
 
 " I've had a tumble," whined the frightened 
 boy.
 
 158 " WHERK ARE THE DUCKS t " 
 
 " Climbing my wall to got at my apples ! 
 I'll give you something to cry for ! " and the 
 rough farmer bestowed two or three sharp cuts 
 with his lash on poor Owen, which made him 
 yell with the smart, and sent him running 
 home in such haste to escape from the farmer's 
 whip, that he never once thought of the ducks, 
 till he saw his mother — a tall, bony woman — 
 standing with a broom in her hand at the gate 
 of her little garden. 
 
 " Where are the ducks ? " shouted she. 
 
 Owen stopped, breathless and gasping, and 
 looked around in dismay. Evening was clos- 
 ing in ; his ducks had wandered he knew not 
 whither. Mrs, Pell came angrily towards him. 
 " I told you yesterday," she exclaimed, raising 
 the broomstick, " that if one of them ducks 
 was lost — " 
 
 " None are lost ! — none are lost ! " called out 
 a cheerful voice near ; and from behind a knoll 
 covered with furze, which had hidden him from 
 view, appeared David Jones, driving home the 
 ducks for Owen. 
 
 " Well, Davy, you're a good-natured boy if 
 ever there was one I " cried Mrs. Pell, her hard
 
 HOW TO MAKE FBIKNDR 159 
 
 features relaxing into a kindly look. " Owen 
 has escaped a beating this once, but next time 
 he shall not be so easily let off You look 
 tired and heated, Davy," she added. " Just 
 step into my cottage and rest ; and if you'd 
 Uke a sup of new milk and a slice of plum- 
 bread, you'll be heartily welcome to both. 
 There's none for you," she said sharply to 
 Owen. " Go and shut up those ducks." 
 
 David glanced at the boy as he slunk away. 
 " I'm glad," he thought, " that I did a good 
 turn to that poor fellow, and saved him a 
 beating." 
 
 "You'll always get on well in the world, 
 Davy," observed Mrs. Pell, as she cut for him 
 a large slice of her home-made plum-bread. 
 " You always keep steady to your duty, and 
 you make Mends wherever you go." 
 
 Mrs. PeU was right. David passed through 
 boyhood, youth, and manhood, prospering in 
 what he undertook, till he became a wealthy 
 farmer. Always ready to help others, he found 
 others ready to help him. He made many 
 friends on earth, but it was through earnestly 
 seeking to please an Almighty Friend abova
 
 160 THE BOY MAKES THE MAK. 
 
 David had grown rich ; and a noble U8e he 
 made of his riches. The more he gained, the 
 more he gave ; and truly it appeared that the 
 more he gave, the more he had. When David 
 Jones had built the new aisle to the church, 
 and set up a village lending-library, sent 
 twenty pounds at once to the Bible Society, 
 pensioned several poor widows, and feai^ed a 
 hundred school children, — he might smile at 
 the remembrance of the day when he had 
 begun his work for God by such things as 
 filling an old woman's pail, feeding a hungry 
 little girl, and driving home ducks from the 
 common. But perhaps the kind acts of the 
 penniless boy were as pleasing in the sight of 
 God as the great gifts of the rich farmer ; for 
 they both sprang from the same motive, — a 
 desire to show grateful love to his Lord by 
 bearing the burdens of others.
 
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