i K mai i m ,) ! THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES OUR HAP P'Y HOME; FAMILY CIRCLE BY MRS. SARAH GOULD. " Home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace, and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polished friends And dear relations mingle into bliss." BOSTON- BRADLEY, DAYTON & CO., 20 WASHINGTON STKEET atered, according to Act of Conj?i,.. in the yoar ISfiG, by MKU1INS AND KKAPI.KY In tho Clerk 'sOffl- ofthi- District C t,rtof the District :>f Jla.ssj-hiiwt NOTE. Our Happy Home ! One of the sweet- est words in the English language, is Home ; be it ever so humble, there is al- ways connected with it some of the most pleasant associations of life. " There is no sweeter spot than home Upon this bleak and barren earth ; There are no purer joys below Than sparkle round the peaceful hearth. At home the wearied one may rest Awhile from tasks of worldly strife ; At home the care-worn soul may find A shelter from the storm of life." With what pleasure does the aged sire, upon whose brow is stamped the impress of seventy winters, relate the scenes of his youth. Time has not erased them from his memory, though he may have forgotten the events that occurred yesterday; but 622754 j v NOTE. tho.se of his childhood days, are indelibly fixed upon his mind, and cannot be oblit- erated. He also may have travelled into foreign lands roamed amid the " sunny climes " of Spain, and Italy, and visited all those remains of ancient grandeur of which the Old World so proudly boasts ; at the eame time, amid all those stupendous scenes, his mind will wander back to his native land, and his strongest and most ardent desire will continue to be, at the old mansion home, though it be crumbling to the dust, by the hand of time, and all that is near and dear laid low in the silent grave. " O, carry me back to my childhood's home, Where ocean surges roar, Where its billows dash on a rock-bound coast, And mourn forever more. I'm pining away in a stranger's land, Beneath a stranger's eye ; O, carry me home, O, carry me home, O, carry me home to die ! " 8. G. CONTENTS. Page. The Flower Angels, 1 The Little Star Gazer, 8 Benevolence, .........10 New Tippet's Worth, 16 Failure and Success, 18 His First Cigar, 19 The Moss Eose, 22 Flowers of Spring, . 24 Mary, Ellen, and the Tin Box, 26 Billy Babbit to Mary, 29 Make Your Mark, 30 The Honest Boy, 31 The Quarrel, 32 The Thistle Sifter, 35 A Puzzle, 35 Borrowing, 36 The Bear and the Children, 40 The Eose, 42 Why our Dog's Teeth are White, 43 Flowers, 48 The Clever Boy, ........ 49 Only One Brick on Another, 54 /The Advent of Hope, ...,,. 56 (v) VI CONTENTS. Child and Sire, ... .... 56 Flowers, 57 Kind Hearts Everywhere, . ..... 61 Voice of New England, ....... 62 Til be a Man, 64 To my Sister, 65 The Pledge, 66 George and His Dog, ... ... 67 The Fly with a Sore Toe, 68 Care, 71 True Love 71 The Bible, 71 I live to Learn, 72 What the Pine Trees Said, 73 Home of the Heart, ........ 76 The Bible, 78 Who made all Things ? 79 Why is the Rose most Beautiful ? 80 My Country, 81 Property ; or, Yours and Mine, 82 Morning Hymn, ... 91 The Child at the Tomb, 92 Jesus our Example, ........ 94 Angry Words, 94 Promises ... 95 Nothing is Lost, .96 Fighting in Love, 97 Good and Evil, 102 True Religion, 102 The Spring's Return, . . . . . . .103 My Home 104 Home, 105 War, .... . 106 CONTENTS. VT1 The Little Garden, Ill Thunder Storm on the Alps, 112 Cocoa, , . . . 113 The Promises, . 119 Patience, 119 Home, 120 Truth, The Watercress Man, 121 The Youngest, . 130 Speak Kindly to the Poor, 131 A Garland of Spring Flowers, 192 The Promises, 134 The Pleasures of Learning, 135 My Home, ,139 The Good we Might Do, 140 The Unsteady Youth, 141 The Spirit's Whisper, 148 Susan Gray, 150 The Indian Maiden's Farewell, 154 True Charity, 155 Temptations, . .159 Avarice Punished ... 161 My Mignonette, or Too Late, ... .162 Little Things, ... . 165 Ihe Angel Visit, 166 The Hose-Bell 172 The Angel of Humanity, . . . . . .173 Pearls and Pebbles, . . . . . . .177 Who is Happy? 178 At Home! At Home! 180 The Blind Boy, 181 Eedeeming the Time, 183 Voice of the Old Year, 187 Home, A Mother's Death 196 VJiJ CONTENTS. . 200 Losses, Christmas Brilliants, 201 202 Honor Among Boys, The First Robin, 205 The Robin's Appeal, 2( True Love 2 7 Influence , 208 Worth of a Kiss, 209 The Philosophy of Rain, . . > . -212 Come Home, my Stricken Daughter, . 214 My Philosophy, 215 Absence 216 The Importance of Punctuality, 217 Angel Home, 221 My Own Heart's Home, 222 The First Lie, 224 A Gentle Man 230 Wiser than the Emperor, 235 The Test of Friendship, '242 Little Things, 243 To the Birds of Spring, 244 Happy New Year, .... 245 OUR HAPPY HOME. THE FLOWER ANGELS. BY MISS SEDGWICK. " MOTHER," said Emma Goodwin, who had been reading Mary Howitt's pretty ballad called " Ma- bel on Midsummer's Day," " do you believe there ever were such people as Fairy-folk ? " " I cannot say, Emma ; there are and have been strange things in this world of ours." " That does not answer my question, dear mother. I want to know if there were ever really fairies ; and if there were, why did they Bay to little Mabel, " The lady fern is all unbroke, The strawberry flower untak'n ; What shall be done for her Who still from mischief can refrain ? ' M 1 (1) 2 THE FLOWER ANUELS. "Why, Emma, they spoke like very sensible little fairies. They commended Mabel for not plucking and marring flowers she had been asked not to touch. " As to the existence of these fairies, that, I be- lieve, is imaginary ; but I will tell you a story of our own times. " There is a certain city that you and I know so compactly built that thousands of people in it have no ground to plant a shrub. " The whole growing season passes the spring time and summer ; all the wonderful pro- cesses of nature go on, the sowing and reap- ing, the budding and blossoming, and they have no sweet scent or lovely sight of flowers. " For these poor people, thus deprived by poverty and circumstances of their participation in God's beautiful creation, a public ground was bought, planted with trees, shrubs, and flowers, and the public were asked to respect what was provided for the public to enjoy. This public ground was called Christian Square. " It happened in early summer, in June, the ' month of flowers,' that Fantasy, a little girl about your age, was passing at twilight on her THE FLOWER, ANGELS. 3 way norne through Christian Square. Just with- in the railing on the south side there was a bed of lilies of the valley. " The lily of the valley seems, you know, to have warmth of its own in its little heart, for it does not need sunshine. The flowers were abun- dant. Fantasy stopped to gaze on them. " She knew well that it was forbidden to touch any thing within that enclosure ; but she said, " ' To-morrow they will fade and die. No one will again see them to-night ; surely I may pick one little bunch of them.' "And she stooped to pick them, when, lo ! forth from one of the flower bells came a tiny form, wrapped in a robe of snowy hue. " ' My little lady,' said a silvery voice, pluck not my flowers.' " ' And pray who are you ? ' asked Fantasy, trembling more with pleasure than fear at a sight so strange and beautiful. " ' I am the lilies' angel. I hang them under their green tent ; I drop the dews on their sweet lips ; I shelter their modest heads in shadow ; I tend them from their birth to their death. 7 " ' And why may they not as well die on my bosom as here ? ' asked Fantasy. THE FLOWER AJSIGEL3. " The gentle spirit heeded not the pertness 01 the little girl, but patiently replied, " ' Because you are but one, my child, and here they are set for the good of many. Here they speak a word of God's kind providence to the sick and old who come tottering by ; to the poor from garret and cellar where no flowers live and breathe ; to all who have an eye to see God in the beauty he has made.' " The lilies' angel sank down and disappeared behind the flower cups, and Fantasy passed on. " She next approached a rose, whose manifold branches were clasped around a green stake. It was full of roses and swelling buds. Stretching out her hands, she said, " ' I will at least have one rose ! ' when a sharp voice exclaimed, " ' Hands off, little lady, or my thorns will pierce you!' " ' And who are you ? ' asked the bold child. ' ' Behold me 1 ' said the roses' angel ; and with- out the sound of even a rustled leaf, forth from the dark centre of the bush rose a form so lovely that Fantasy shouted with delight. "The brow, and neck, and arms were white THE FLOWER ANGELS. 5 as the Rose Unique, blended with the faint tint of the Maiden's Blush ; the cheeks were of the hue of the Damask Rose ; the lips were of the richest red of the Chinese Rose ; the flowing curls of the color of the Yellow Scotch Rose ; and around the figure floated a cloud tinged with the hue of every rose that blooms. " ' I love thee, little maiden/ said the angel, ( for thou lovest flowers, and round such the in- visible flower angels are ever floating. Seek the tokens of our favor elsewhere. Here the flowers are fo all, not for one. If thou dost respect us, touch them not.' The rose angel vanished. " Fantasy walked slowly on, and from every flower came forth its angel : the Forget-me-not's wore a zone of her blue flowers ; the Sweet Pea's a wreath of its lovely blossoms drooping over its arch, laughing eye ; and the Carnation's bore a shining shield with its rich flower in its centre. " Each waved a hand to Fantasy as she passed, and said, " 'We are for all not for one little maiden !' " Fantasy came to a bed of Hear-t's-ease - court beauties, dressed in royal velvets ! Old hab- its will prevail against the best of new lessons. G THE FLOWER ANGELS. " Fantasy stooped to pick 'just one ; ' when, lol hundreds of tiny fairies, glowing with rainbow tints, rose from them, and one spoke, " ' After all, little maiden, that you have been permitted to see and hear in your twilight pas- sage among us, if you pluck but "just one " of the flowers we tend for all, you must forfeit Hearts-ease forever.' " ' I never will,' replied Fantasy ; ' and here/ she added, clasping her little hands, ' I vow that I will never touch tree or shrub, flower or blade of grass provided for all, and not for one"?' " A soft, musical murmur came forth from tree, and shrub, and flower. Fantasy heard it. Such harmony ! it was such as Nature always breathes in the presence of those who love and serve her. " It is not often permitted to mortals to hear it. Fantasy was buoyed up by it, as by praise from those we love. " As she emerged from the farther gate into the paved etreet, she paused under a tulip tree. It was nearly dead hardly a leaf on its stately branches. The summer before, it had been full of polished green leaves and magnificent flowers. THE FLOWER ANGELS. 7 " ' Why so changed ? ' thought Fantasy. She heard a voice replying to her thought, " ' Look on the noble trunk, and see it gashed, and nearly girdled. Those wounds were made in mean revenge by a wanton boy, who was driven out of Christian Square last year for plucking the flowers. I am the tree's spirit, its life, and by that boy's rude hand doomed to leave it forever.' "And from the gently-stirring branches rose, to Fantasy's eye. a cloud, and floated away, lost in the dim atmosphere. " ' Poor tree ! ' she said ; ' who could have had the heart to kill that which God and years had made so beautiful ? ' " The girl heard her mother to the close, and then, taking a long breath, she said, " What does this mean, mother ? Is it not a true story ? " " No, my child, it is not. You may call it a dream, a vision, a mesmeric sleep, any thing you please, so that you learn from it to .respect and keep your hands off from whatever adorns those grounds provided at the expense of the public for the public to enjoy." THE LITTLE STAR GAZER. THE LITTLE STAR GAZER. I'm looking on the stars, mother, That shine up there, all bright, So like a brilliant string of beads Around the neck of Night. I love to greet their smiles, mother, That fall soft from the skies ; They seem to gaze on me in love With their sweet angel eyes. It seems to me sometimes, mother, That they are windows bright, Through which the happy spirits look, And shines heaven's holy light. O, are they not the gates, mother, Of radiant pearl and gold, By which we enter heaven at last, To rest in God's dear fold ? They look as if they were, mother, Bright golden bells that ring, And make accordant music tones Whene'er the angels sing. THE LITTLE STAR GAZER. Yon sky a garden seems, mother, All full of flowery beds, Where sunbeams sleep, and summer's breath Its incense ever sheds. O, I could almost leave thee, mother, My happy home and thee, To roam amid that starry field, And in that garden be. I would be like a star, mother, Far from the touch of bin, And ever own a heart that glows All full of light within. When at night I go to sleep Fourteen angels are at hand : Two on my right their watches keep Two on my left to bless me stand ; Two hover gently o'er my head ; Two guard the foot of my small bed ; Two wake me with the sun's first ray Two dress me nicely every day ; Two guide me on the heavenly road That leads to paradise and God. BENEVOLENCE. BENEVOLENCE. [SARAH BUNTIN, with a Bundle of Clothes, WIL- LIAM, with a Basket of Provisions, going to visit a poor family, meet ROBERT DAWSON, a School mate.] Robert. Good morning, Sarah and William ; where are you going so early this morning? Sarah. We are going over to Mrs. Gently's to carry some clothes and provisions, so that the children can go to school. Robert. Are they so poor that they cannot get clothes to wear to school ? Sarah. Yes, they are. They have neither clothes nor food to make them comfortable. Robert. Why don't they work and earn money wherewith to buy them clothes and food ? Sarah. They do, Robert ; and yet they cannot earn enough, I fear, to keep them from starving ; for nobody has now any work to give them. Robert. Have they no father ? BENEVOLENCE. 11 Sarah. No, Robert, they have no father. Their father was blind. He died a few weeks since, after being blind many years. Robert. How came he to be blind ? Sarah. It is a sad story. While he was at work, perfecting an important invention which required great use of the eyes, things began to look dark to him ; he could not see the fine lines clearly ; every day it grew darker and darker till all became as dark as night. Then the poor man sat down with his wife and children and thought over what he should do. Robert. Well, what did he do ? Sarah. He heard of a great doctor in Philadel- phia who was famous for curing blindness ; so he sold his little farm, and cows, and sheep, and took the money to pay his expenses in moving his fam- ily to Philadelphia and to pay the doctor. Robert. And did the doctor help him ? Sarah. No ; after trying the most celebrated physicians, and spending all his money, he found himself a beggar, and blind as ever. Robert. How sad ! What did he then do ? Sarah. He looked round for something to do for a living. At last he found a man who em 12 BENEVOLENCE. ployed him to turn a grindstone where they 'made cutlery. Robert. And could he earn enough by turning a grindstone to support his wife and children ? Sarah. No ; his wife took in washing ; and while he had employment they were able to earn enough to live from day to day. Robert. What did the children do ? Sarah. They helped their mother, out of school hours, except when Nancy was with her father, leading him to and from his work. Every morn- ing she would take him by the hand and lead him all the way up Water Street into Yine Street, where the manufactory was, and then run home and help her mother till school. Then at night she would go and lead her father home again. Robert. Tell me more about the blind man. What became of him ? Sarah. After a while business oecame dull, and they did not want him at the factory to turn the grindstone ; so he and Nancy walked all over the city to find work ; but nobody wanted him ; the^e was nothing which he could do. So rather than starve he sat down on a little stool by the 8ide of an old graveyard in Mulberry Street, juet 1 BENEVOLENCE. 13 by where Benjamin Franklin was buried, and held out his old worn-out cap for the passers by to throw in their pennies. There were some who would take pity on the poor blind man and give him ?,ome money. This was not all. His wife, by her hard work and anxiety, became sick and unable to take in washing for a time. This dis- heartened the poor man so that he became sick, and died of a broken heart. Robert. A sad story indeed. What became of the wife and the children ? Sarah. They became perfectly destitute, and had nothing to eat, nor hardly any clothes to wear. One evening, after they had been with- out food all day, Nancy thought she would go down to the Post Office, where she had seen other children sometimes hold out their hands for gentlemen to give them pennies, and hold out her hand ; perhaps some one would give her something, and then she could buy some bread for her mother and little sister to keep them from starving. Robert. Well, what luck did she have ? Sarah. She went and stood by the door that opens into the Post Office, and tried to hold out 14 BENEVOLENCE. her hand as she had seen other little beggars do, At first she could hardly get it out ; she seemed to feel ashamed to do it. At last a gentleman who noticed her, observing that she was not one of the common beggars, spoke to her kindly, and asked her who she was, and where she lived, and a great many other question^, which she answered so honestly and frankly that he gave her some money, and afterwards went home with her to see her sick mother and sister. Robert. He was a kind man. How did he find them. Sarah. He found them in the fourth story of a poor old building in Water Street, where they lived in a little attic room with only one bed, one table, a chair, and a stool for their furniture, and nothing to eat. He then gave them some money, and came home to our house, where he boards, and told us all he had seen. He then proposed that we should make a collection of clothes and provisions for the family, and send them. So this morning mother and I picked up all our old dresses, and made up a basket of provisions, with some money from the boarders, and Billy and I are going to carry them to the poor family BENEVOLENCE. 15 Robert. You are very kind, Sarah. I am very sorry for them. Your story and generosity have interested me in doing something for them my- self. Here is a sixpence T was going to spend for marbles. [Gives it to Sarah.] I will give them 'that ; and I should like to go and see them with you. Can I go,? Sarah. Certainly ; with all my heart. It will do you good to see those kind little girls and pa- tient mother who have suffered so much hunger and cold rather than beg. My mother tells me " it is better to give than to receive ; " that all our little actb of kindness to the poor are treas- ures laid up in heaven, where neither moth nor rust will corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal. Robert. I have heard that before ; but I never understood it as I do now. I will try and lay up some treasure there too ; so let us be going. 16 A NEW TIPPET'S WORTH. A NEW TIPPET'S WORTH. " I do not want a new tippet this winter, nor any thing new, dear mother," said a little girl, when her mother began to tell about buying some new winter clothes ; " do, mother, let me wear my old ones." " Not want a new tippet, when all your cous- ins are to have new ones ? " said the mother ; " why, I never saw a child that did not like new things ! " " I do not know as I do, exactly," said Janette. " And why do you not ? " asked her mother ; " why not ? " " Because," said the little girl, hesitating a mo- ment, " because it makes me feel real bad to be dressed up so, when there are so many children who have no clothes to wear, or houses to live in, or bread to eat. " mother ! if instead of buying me a new tip- pet you would only let me have the money to help them with, then I should be happy." As the mother listened to all her daughter eaid tears came in her eyes, for she was afraid A NEW TIPPET'S WORTH. 17 she had thought more of dressing her little girl in fine clothes than of teaching her to love oth ers, and of finding her the means of carrying out her love. But this had been taught Janette by her heavenly Parent, who is called the God of love. And what does Christian love ask of you, and me, and every little child ? That we must not live only to clothe, and feed, and improve, and please ourselves. 0, no ; for we have a great many brothe^ and sisters in the world who are destitute, and wicked, and sorrowful ; and the great God gives to us, that we may share with them. And now, as winter approaches, how many children feel like giving a beautiful new tippet's worth to help the poor? Perhaps you are not able to give as much as that ; but will you do something ? As the November winds sweep round your snug little chamber will you remember the poor? " And did her mother give Janette the tippet's worth ? " asks some little girl, perhaps. Yes, she did. Janette wore her old woollen tippet, and " the new tippet's worth " she gave 2 FAILURE AND SUCCESS. away to do good to others ; and never was a happier child than she; for the Scripture^says " It is more blessed to give than to receive." PBOVERBS. Let them laugh that win. tf o great loss but there is some small gain. Never too old to learn. FAILURE AND SUCCESS. It is in failure, in distress, When, reft of all, it stands alone, And not in what men call success, The noble, valiant soul is known. He who perfection makes his aim, Shoots at a mark he may not reach ; The world may laugh, the world may blame, And what it calls discretion preach. Think not of failure or success ; He fails who has a low desire. Up to the highest ever press ; Still onward, upward, higher, higher I HIS PIEST CTO.AR. 19 HIS FIKST CIGAR. Letter from Uncle Toby to Billy Bruce, about Jesse Shute with his Lemon and first Cigar. MY DEAR BILLY : Let me tell you a story about Jesse Shute. I was once standing on a wharf in New London, waiting for a boat to fire up, bound to New York. Whilst there, my eye rested on a group of small boys, gathered round a sugar boi. The most of them were busy in taking their first steps in laying aside the boy and putting on the man. Some were smoking, some were chew- ing, and some were doing their best to perfect the smaller ones in this fine art, or gentlemanly accomplishment ! It was on this occasion I saw Jesse Shute trying his first cigar. He was a thin, graceful, elegant boy, with a countenance expressive of fine sensibilities and a fine mind : in fact, he had that rich and delicate structure upon which tobacco plays almost with the fury of lightning in doing mischief. The initiatory process went hard with young Jesse. He had a lemon in one hand, and a 20 HIS FIRST CIGAR. cheroot in the other ; and he used them scien tifically, I assure you. He used them in turn. Now the little fellow would swell, pout, puff, puff, puff and being overcome by the precious fumes, his eyes would roll in their sockets, his limbs give way, and back he would fall on the box, as drunk as a toper in the ditch. But his remedy was at hand : his lemon was an antidote to sickness. He greedily put it to his mouth, and drew upon it with the enthusiasm of a young calf 1 This neutralized the nausea. And being made sick and well, drunk and sober, some half dozen times by his cigar and lemon, I came to the conclusion that he was a child of peculiar promise, bent on being a genteel dandy quite early, or a great smoker, as Nimrod was a great hunter. By this time, I presume, little Jesse struts and shows off in full bloom ; is quite a connoisseur in the cigar science ; talks about good, better, best, of a hundred varieties or more. I dare say he wags his head according to rule, perfumes the streets and saloons of New London with what Horace Greeley calls a profane stench ; HIS 7IRST CIGAR. 21 and though he was a mere boy then, I presume were I to call him a boy now, he would say, as another little fellow once said when I asked him to step aside and let me pass, " Sir, don't call me a boy ; I have used cigars these three years ! " I must not fatigue you, Billy ; but, rely upon it, to use tobacco is no more natural than to swal- low lightning, inhale assafoetida, or live on fire. Hence you must never use it. You are well now ; and neither this nor any other narcotic can make you better. If chewers, smokers, or venders entice thee, do not consent. Say to them as Omiah, a youth from Otaheite, said to a great Englishman who offered him his snuff box : " I thank you, my lord, my nose is not hungry ! " That is exactly the thing Omiah's nose was not hungry ! Neither is yours nor mine in snuff- ing such fragrance. And if our American lads had the independence of this young pagan, so many of them would not become sickly dupes to this artificial appetite ; but living in harmony with their real nature, in harmony with the voice of God within and around, " They would at once draw the sting of life and death, And walk with Nature ; and her paths are peace." 22 THE MOSS ROSE. THE MOSS ROSE. Have you ever imagined, when you stood be- side the sweet rose and admired its beauty and inhaled its fragrance, that it was talking all the while ? Listen to a conversation which the pious Krummacher once thought he heard as he stood admiring the moss rose and the simple dress with which the hand of nature, or rather the hand of nature's God, has clothed it. Here it is : " The angel who takes care of the flowers, and sprinkles upon them the dew in the still night, slumbered, on a spring day, in the shade of a rosebush. " And when he awoke, he said, with a smiling countenance, 'Most beautiful of my children, I thank thee for thy refreshing odor and cooling shade. Could you now ask any favor, how will- ingly would I grant it ! ' " ' Adorn me, then, with a new charm/ said the spirit of the rosebush, in a beseeching tone. " And the angel adorned the loveliest of flow- ers with simple moss. Sweetly it stood there in modest attire, the moss rose, the most beau- tiful of its kind." THE MOSS ROSE. 23 And the good man who wrote this adds, " Lay aside the splendid ornament and the glittering jewel, and listen to the instructions of maternal nature." "Whenever, therefore, you feel inclined to envy those who wear costly ornaments the ring of diamonds or the necklace of pearls think of the moss rose, and the lesson of wisdom which it teaches ; and remember that there is no fine gold equal to " the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight of God, of great price." 24 FLOWERS OE SPRING. FLOWERS OF SPRING. The violets are coming, In the valley on the plain ; And the bees will soon be humming, And the streams be free again. There are pretty budding faces In the dell, so pure and sweet, And a thousand tiny traces Of their little blue-veined feet. The violets are coming, Their buds are scarcely seen ; But heaven wears a deeper blue, And earth a brighter green. The leaves are all unclosing, Our hearts grow full and strong, For we hail them as a prelude Vo a long bright summer song. The violets- are coming, There's a perfume on the air ; And the breath of early blossoms Uprising everywhere. Oh, I love the summer flowers, Each tiny, bright-lipped thing ; But more than them, I dearly love The first sweet buds of spring. MBS. H. MAKION STEPHEN*. MAEY, ELLEN, AND THE TIN BOX. 25 MARY, ELLEN, AND THE TIN BOX. In my visit to one of the Boston schools, a child asked me, "What does this mean, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive ' ? " " Children," I asked, " can any of you tell what it means ? " A little girl, whose name was Mary, an- swered, " I had a piece of cake the other day. 1 broke it into six pieces, and gave five of them to five other children who were playing with me, and kept the smallest myself." " Is not that what it means ? " asked another girl, named Ellen. " Yes, Ellen," I replied, " I think it is pretty near the meaning. I know a boy named Clark. He has several brothers and sisters. If Clark gets an apple, an orange, grapes, plums, or any thing, his brothers and sisters are always sure to get the largest share, and often the whole. " When they have 8tiy thing, Clark never teases them to give any to him ; but they often plead 26 MARY, ELLEN, AND THE TIN BOX. earnestly with him to take some. When he sees he cannot refuse Without hurting their feelings he always takes what they offer. I once asked Clark why he was not as willing to receive from his brothers and sisters as he was to give to them. " ' Because/ said the noble boy, ' I feel better pleased when I give to them than I do when they give to me.' " ' Why ? ' I asked. " ' Because I am afraid they will not have enough/ said he. " ' What if they should not ? ' I asked. " ' Why/ said he, ' how could I enjoy any thing when I would be thinking all the time that they wanted it, and that they had deprived themselves of it to give it to me ? ' " ' True, Clark, I do not know how you could/ I answered." After I had related this story, Mary said, " I think I should be more happy to give than to receive." Poor girl ! she did not know her own heart ; but it was soon brought to the test. Ellen took up a painted tin box belonging to Mary, and looked at it. " That is mine," said Mary, and snatched it away with some violence. MABY, ELLEN, AND THE TIN BOX. 27 Ellen gave it up very quietly, and then said, " Do let me look at it, Mary. It is so pretty ! " " I shall not," said Mary, " for it is mine ; and you had no business to touch it." " Dear Mary," said I, " do you really think it is more blessed to give than to receive ? You said just now you thought you should be more happy to give than to receive. You do not look very happy now." Poor girl ! she was cut to the heart. She in- stantly gave the box to Ellen, hung her head, and began to weep. " Children," said I to the scholars, " which do you think would have made Mary more happy to have allowed Ellen to look at the box as much as she pleased, or to have snatched it away as she did ? " All answered, " She would have been moife happy if she had allowed her to look at it." " So I think," I replied. " You do not feel so happy, Mary, as you would have done if you had told Ellen kindly, when, she took up your box, that she might look at it as much as she pleased." " If we feel as we ought to feel," I remarked to the children, "we shall give up our lives to 28 ANECDOTE. save the lives of others rather than take away their lives to save our own." " If they are our enemies, and are trying to kill us," asked Sarah, " should we feel happier to give up our lives rather than take theirs ? " "If we really feel that it is more blessed to give than to receive," I replied, " I think we should suffer and die for the good even of our enemies rather than make them suffer and die for our good. If we practise this precept, as Jesus did, it will prevent all wars, and settle all diffi- culties, without any violence." Jl Kiss for a Blew. BILLY BABBIT TO MARY. 29 BILLY RABBIT TO MARY. [Billy Rabbit was a little rabbit which a boj caught in the woods and gave to a little girl of the name of Mary. She was very attentive to the little prisoner, gave him an abun- dance of good things to eat, and tried her best to make him happy ; but all in vain. After many attempts, he at last suc- ceeded in making his escape, and iastantly disappeared in tht woods. In the course of the day *he iolio wing letter, sealed with a sharp thorn, was xer-ttYeu by nits friend Mary.] ARTICHOKE WOODS. You thought, my dfar Mary, you had Billy fast, But I tried very hard, and escaped you at last ; The chance was so tempting I thought I would 'nab it, It was not very nauphty, I'm sure, in a rabbit. O, let not your kind heart be angry with me, But think what a joy it is to be free ; To see the green woods, to feel the fresh air, To skip, and to play, and to run every where. The food that you gave me was pleasant and sweet, But I'd rather be free, though with nothing to eat. O, how glad they all were to see me come back ! And every one wanted to give me a smack. Dick knocked over Brownie, and jumped over Bun, And the neighbors came in to witness the fun. My father said something, but could not be heard ; My mother looked at me, but spoke not a word ; 30 MAKE YOUR MARK. And while she was looking her eyes became pink, And she shed a few tears, I verily think. To him who a hole or a palace inhabits, To all sorts of beings, to men, and to rabbits ; Ah ! dear to us all is sweet Liberty, Especially, Mary, to you and to me. So I hope you'll forgive me for sending this letter To tell you I'm safe, and feel so much better, Cut all sorts of capers, and act very silly, And am your devoted, affectionate BILLY, MAKE YOUR MARK. In the quarries should you toil, Make your mark ; Do you delve upon the soil ? Make your mark ; In whatever path you go, In whatever place you stand, Moving swift, or moving slow, With a firm and honest hand Make your mark. Life is fleeting as a shade Make your mark ; Marks of some kind must be made Make your mark ; THE HONEST BOY. 31 Make it while the arm IB strong, In the golden hours of youth ; Never, never make it wrong ; Make it with the stamp of truth Make your mark. THE HONEST BOY. Once there was a little boy With curly hair and pleasant eye A boy who always told the truth, And never, never told a lie. And when he trotted off to school, The children all about would cry, " There goes the curly-headed boy The boy that never tells a lie." And every body loved him so, Because he always told the truth, That every day, as he grew up, 'Twas said, " There goes the honest joutfr And when the people that stood near Would turn to ask the reason why, The answer would be always this : " Because he never tells a lie." 82 THE QUARREL. THE QUARREL. [The Father and his two Sons, JULIAN and ALONZO.] Julian. Father, Alonzo struck me. Fattier. Well, my son, what are you going to do about it ? You can do all that ought to be done to him. Julian. But, father, you have often told me I must love him, and never strike him, even if he strikes me. Father. Is it because you love your brother, my son, that you did not strike him when he struck you? Julian. Yes, father. [Faintly.} Father. Well, my son, I am glad you did not strike him, but rather came to me with your com- plaint. What do you want me to do to him ? Julian. Why, father, I thought you would wish to punish him if he struck me. Father. Do you wish me to whip your brother ? Julian. Why, father, you always tell us that you will help us to settle our disputes if we will come to you. THE QUARREL. 33 Father. So you would be glad to see him whipped, would you, Julian ? [Julian hangs down his kead, and makes no answer .] Alonzo, my dear, come here. \_Jllonzo goes to his father.} Alonzo, Julian says you struck him, and he seems to wish me to whip you. Alonzo. Julian kicked me, father, before I struck him. Father. That alters the case : Julian did not tell me that he had done you any injury. Alonzo. I should not have struck him if he had not kicked me. FatJier. Who ever saw the like of this ? Here are two brothers, each trying to enlist their father in a quarrel against the other. How often have I said to you, children, Love each other, and never fight ! and now each of you wishes me to punish the other. Alonzo, do you wish me to punish your brother? Jilonzo. [Looking at Jidian.\ No, father ; [ do not wish to have him punished. Father. But Julian wishes me to whip you, Alonzo Jilonzo. No matter : I do not wish to have my brother whipped. 3 34 THE QUARREL. Father. What ! not if lie wishes to have you whipped ? Jllonzo. No, father. [JJlonzo comes near, and takes hold of Julian's hand.] Father. Well, Julian, do you still wish me to whip your brother? Julian. No, father ; [In a subdued tone of voice.] I do not wish iny little brother to be punished. Father. Julian, my son, how is this ? Just now you seemed to wish me to take sides with you against your brother, and to help you to pun- ish him. Julian. That was when I was angry with him ; I do not want you to punish him now. I would rather you should whip me. Father. The next time, then, that your brother hurts you in any way, wait till your anger is all gone, and till you can put your arm round him, and love him, as you now do, before you come to ask me to help you to punish him. Never strike him yourself, nor kick him, whatever he does to you, till you can fold him in your arms, and love him as you do at this moment. Julian. Why, father, then I should never strike him at all, nor tell you if he struck me. THE QUARREL. 35 Father. All the better : then you would never get into a quarrel. When others strike you, never strike them in return ; but pray, to our heavenly Father that he would enable you to " So good for evil, to bless them that curse you, and to pray for them which despitefully use you." THE THISTLE SIFTER. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb ; see that thou, in siftiiig a sieve full of unsifted thistles, dost not thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of thy thumb : success to the successful thistle sifter, who doth not get the thistles in his tongue. 36 BORROWING. BORROWING. " Borrow seldom, and return punctually. Be careful in no way to injure the property you borrow." Morals of Manners. Christine Alton, a girl thirteen years old, re- ceived a note from one of her friends, saying, "The long-expected box has come from Canton : come down and drink tea with me, and, Christine, as they say in the advertisements, ' you will hear something to your advantage.' " Christine was dressed, and ready to go, when her mother said, " It is beginning to rain, my child ; you must take an umbrella." Christine looked for one in the umbrella stand ; there was no umbrella there. "Where is my father's silk umbrella?" she said. Mr. Hicks had borrowed it a few evenings before, but had not sent it home. " But where," asked her mother, " is the little cotton one which I bought on purpose for you ? " " 0, that I lent to Ellen Hicks, and she has not returned it." BORROWING. 37 " Ask Philanda (the cook) to lend you hers." "Mother, she says she lent it last week to cousin Henry, and he has not returned it. I will just run into Anne's, and borrow hers." Anne Lincoln, her cousin, lived next door, and in one moment more Christine was in Mrs. Lin- coln's parlor, and asking Anne to be kind enough to lend her her umbrella. "I don't know exactly where it is," replied Anne, coldly. Anne's mother was struck with her manner, and looking up from her work, she said, " Go and find it, Anne." Anne winked at her mother, but her mother was determined not to understand her winks. " If you are not willing to lend your umbrella, say so, my child ; but don't make a pretext of not knowing where it is." " Well, then, I am not willing," said Anne. Christine was a girl of quick feelings. She said nothing, but instantly left the house. " Why, what do you mean, Anne," said her mother, " by your unwillingness ? Christine and all her family are always ready to lend any thing they possess." 38 BORROWING. " I know it, mother ; and to borrow any thing that any body else possesses. Christine has bor- rowed three books of me that she has never re- turned ; and my ' Poetry for Schools ' was ruined there. And last week she borrowed my rubbers, and forgot where she left them." "This is very inconvenient and disagreeable, my dear Anne ; still I think if you were even now to lend Christine your umbrella, and to tell her frankly your reasons for having withheld it, it might make her more careful in future. "If we were more patient with the faults of others, and took some little pains to mend them, the world would get on better than it does." Anne sat for a moment. The advice worked well. She kissed her mother, saying, " You speak so gently, mother, I can't help do- ing what you wish." She found her umbrella without much difficulty, and felt the pleasure of doing a kindness as she sprang up Mrs. Alton's steps. She found Chris- tine alone in the parlor, looking very disconso- late. Her new silk bonnet was untied, and lying beside her, and the tears were streaming from her eyes. BORROWING. 39 " Now, Christine," said Anne, " I am glad to find you alone, because I want to tell you I am ashamed of myself; and that we don't like to say before more than one person at a time, you know." Christine, the best-humored of girls, wiped off her tears and smiled. " Here, dear Christine," continued Anne, " is the umbrella for you ; and if you will be sure and return it as soon as you come home, I will never be so disagreeable again. " And, dear Christine, let me tell you why I was so ; and if you cure me of my fault, why, perhaps I may cure you of yours ; and then we shall love one another the better all our lives." And Anne courageously, and very pleasantly, detailed the causes of vexation she had had. Christine candidly confessed her fault, and from that moment began a reform which made her a comfortable as well as a charming friend. 40 THE BEAR AND THE CHILDREN. THE BEAR AND THE CHILDREN. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. I will tell you a circumstance which occurred a year ago in a country town in the south of Germany. The master of a dancing bear was sitting in the tap room of an inn, eating his supper, whilst the bear, poor harmless beast, was tied up behind the wood stack in the yard. In the room up stairs three little children were playing about. Tramp ! . tramp ! was suddenly heard on the stairs. Who could it be ? The door flew open, and enter the bear ; the huge, shaggy beast with his clanking chain ! Tired of standing so long in the yard alone, Bruin had at length found his way to the staircase. At first the little children were in a terrible fright at this unexpected visit, and each ran into a corner to hide himself; but the bear found them all out, and put his muzzle, snuffling, up to them, but did not harm them in the least. " He must be a big dog," thought the children THE BEAE AND THE CHILDEEN. 41 and they began to stroke him familiarly. The bear stretched himself out at his . full length upon the floor, and the youngest boy rolled over him, and nestled his curly head in the shaggy, black fur of the beast. Then the eldest boy went and fetched his drum, and thumped away on it with might and main ; whereupon the bear stood erect upon his hind "legs and began to dance. What glorious fun! Each boy shouldered his musket ; the bear must of course have one too ; and he held it tight and firm, like any soldier. There's a comrade for you, my lads ! and away they marched one, two one, two ! The door suddenly opened, and the children's mother entered. You should have seen her speechless with terror, her cheeks white as a sheet, and her eyes fixed with horror. But the youngest boy nodded, with a look of intense de- light, and cried, " Mamma, mamma, we are only playing at sol- diers ! " At that 'moment the master of the bear made his appearance. 42 THE ROSE. THE ROSE. * FROM THE GERMAN. There was once a poor woman who had two children. The youngest had to go every day to the forest to fetch wood. And once, when the little girl had strayed very far, and lost her way, there came a little child, who helped her to pick up the wood, and drag the bundle home ; and when they came near the house, the little child suddenly vanished. The maiden told her mother all that had passed ; but she would not believe it. At length the little girl brought home a rose, and said that the beautiful child had given it her, and had told her that when its leaves unfolded he would come again : so the mother put the rose into water. One morning the little girl did not get up as usual. The mother went to the bed ; the child was dead ; but it lay there with a calm and lovely smile. And that very morning the leaves of the rose unfolded. WHY OUR DOG'S TEETH ARE WHITE. 43 WHY OUR DOG'S TEETH^ARE WHITE. Mr. W. There are a great many curious things about the animals which we see every day, and yet do not notice particularly. What are you doing with Ponto, Tom ? Tom. Pray, father, look at Ponto, whom you took with you when you went shooting yesterday. Ponto is a fine pointer. I like to go with you when you take him along. It is so curious to see him stop short, when he comes upon a covey of partridges, and point straight at them with his nose ! He must be a very intelligent dog, and very well trained, too, to do it so nicely as he does. I love to observe all his motions. Will you tell us, this morning, why his teeth are so white and clean ? Mr. W. My dear boy, this important secret lies in a nutshell. Ponto sets a very high value upon his teeth, and little boys and girls set none what- ever upon theirs. Ponto never goes into a black- smith's shop to gnaw the files ; nor did I ever detect him in the act of chewing small pieces of steel or iron. He thereby keeps his teeth sound and good until he arrives at a good old age. 44 WHY OUR DOO'S TKLTU ARE WHITE. Amelia. But we do not eat hon, nor chew files. Mr. W. Certainly not ; but you file off the enamel, or outside, with sugar and sweetmeats, and you break them with cracking nuts and plum stones ; so that they decay, and are as useless as if you did both. How is that, my masters and mistresses ? Kenneth. Because our teeth are not dogs' teeth. Mr. W. They are just like dogs' teeth. We have teeth to bite our food, teeth to tear it, and teeth to grind it. Pray what has Ponto more ? He has "all his now, and a beautiful set they are. I will not say any thing about the color of yours, my children, because I hope to see them, after to- day, pearly white. But alas ! some of you have decayed teeth, which can never be remedied. Kenneth. 0, do tell us how Ponto managed his teeth. Mr. W. When Ponto was a baby-dog he lived wholly on milk ; and when his teeth were strong enough he began to pick a bone for himself. If his mother had then cut his meat with a knife, and fed him with a fork, his front teeth, for want of something to do, would have become tender and loose. The first bone he picked, one tooth WHY OUE DOG'S TEETH ARE WHITE. 45 would drop out, all the others would give way a bit, the food would then get fixed between them, and they would decay and ache, like children's. Tom. I do not see how feeding him with a knife and fork should loosen his teeth. Mr. W. But I do. Just remember : both your teeth and his are broad behind, and sharp and narrow in front. If all your food or his is cut, and put into your mouth, the broad, back teeth grind it, but the front ones have nothing to do. Tom. I should, therefore, think they would not wear out so soon as the back ones. Mr. W. My dear Tom, if I could make your right or strongest arm an idle gentleman's, hav- ing nothing to do but to walk about and swing a cane, and your left or weakest arm a blacksmith's, what should we see ? Ella. Why, one would be white, and the other black. Mr. W. Very true, ^ r ' - Pert; but the left or weaker arm would nu i umy be able to lift greater weights, and strike harder blows, bitf it would be larger, and harder, and stronger. Now, this is just the case with the teeth. If the front teeth have nothing to do, they become discolored 46 WHY OUK DOG'S TEETH ARE WHITE. and loose, and the gums grow spongy and un- healthy. Amelia. Then the reason why Ponto's teeth are so white and good is because he uses all his teeth front as well as back ? Mr. W. Precisely so. Ella. But why are they white ? Mr. W. Because every mouthful of food torn off is his tooth brush. If he had one tender tooth in front, they would soon lose their whiteness. Feed him with small pieces of meat for a month, and they will be any thing but white. Tom. 0, now I see ! We ought not to eat with a knife and fork, or spoon, but gnaw the meat off the bones. I cannot help laughing at the thought of all our boys scrambling for a bite at a boiled leg of mutton ! Mr. W. Laughable as all this seems, it is more rational than the boys or girls, or men or women, who cut all their food, and keep their front teeth in perfect idleness, and, shall I add ? dirtiness. Amelia. I Aould think that cannibals, sitting round a fire and eating one another, would have white teeth. Tom. And the Tartars or Abyssinians, who eat half-cooked steaks. WHY OUR DOG'S TEETH ARE \VHITE. 47 Mr. W. I dare say they have ; but you need neither be Tartars, nor cannibals, nor dogs, and yet have sound and white teeth. This may be done by removing every impurity from 4he teeth, and scrubbing the gums well, daily, with the tooth brush. Remember, that although you may whiten your teeth with tooth powders, yet, unless you do as Ponto does with his tooth brush, brush, ay, and brush roughly, too, both tooth and gum, you may have white teeth, but they cannot be sound and healthy. Brea/cfast-Table Science, 48 FLOWERS. FLOWERS. Flowers for the humble poor, Flowers for the weak and lone, Let them gently, gently fall, Where the weeds of toil are sown. Lifting up foul Discontent, From the lonely tenement, As the fainting toilers there Catch a breath of Heaven's air. Flowers ! lay them by the bed- Where the restless sick are lying : Let their freshness heal the air, Wounded by the sufferer's sighing, Let his eye a moment rest Where its seeing may be blessed, Ere they mingle their sweet breath With the heavy one of Death. Flowers for the rich and proud ! Lay them in the costly room Where art's thick luxuriant air May from Nature catch perfume, And like whispering angels start Pity in the rich man's heart Pity for some humble one, Who of flowers and fruit hath none. D. THE CLEVER BOY. 49 THE CLEVER BOY. BY MRS. S. C. HALL. " Well, but, grandmama," expostulated Edwin, " every body says I am very clever : now do not laugh ; every body says so, and what every body says must be true." " First," replied his grandmother, " I do not think that what every body says must of necessity be true ; and secondly, in what consists your every body ? " " Why, there is nurse." " Capital authority ! an old woman who nursed your mother, and, consequently, loves you dearly. Go on." " And the doctor ; he said I was a good boyj the other morning, when I swallowed the pill without a wry face." " Go on." " All the servants." " Excellent servants, Edwin, for the situations they are engaged to fill, but bad judges of a young gentleman's cleverness. The rector ? ;; 4 50 THE CLEVER BOY. ' That is cruel of you, grandmamma," replied our conceited little friend ; " you know he would not say it, because I did not get through the com- mandment, in the class, last Wednesday evening." " Does your papa say you are clever ? " The little fellow made no reply. " Do your schoolfellows ? " " They are big boys." " Then your character for cleverness depends on the old nurse, the still older doctor, and the servants ! " Edwin was again silent. " This," observed his grandmother, " recalls to my mind one of Randy the Woodcutter's fables. " A very pretty little tree grew near a quickset hedge that was cut close by the gardener, and the hedge looked up to the tiny little tree with great respect. It was so short itself that it fan- cied the tree was very tall. There were several brambles and nettles also round about, and they were perpetually praising the little tree, and in- creasing its vanity by their flattery. One day an old rook, the oldest in the rookery, perched on the little tree. ' What do you mean/ said the tiny tree, ' bj THE CLEVER BOY. 51 / troubling me with your familiarity ? The idea of such a bird as you presuming to rest upon iny branches ! ' and the little tree rustled its leaves arid looked very angry. " ' Caw, caw ! ' quoth the rook, which signi- fied ' Ah, ah ! ' ' Why, better trees than you are glad to give me a resting-place. I thought you would be gratified by the compliment paid you by alighting on your quivering bough, and by the pleasure of my company : a little thing like you could hardly have possessed much attraction for king rook ; but, indeed, I only perched upon you because you are a little taller than brambles.' " The dwarf tree considered it as great an in- sult to be called a ' little thing ' as some folks do to be considered ' not clever ; ' and he said a number j?f foolish words ; amongst others, that 1 there were birds that could not fly over him.' " ' Ay, indeed/ answered the rook, ' wrens, that never mount higher than a hedge ! ' " The rook soon flew away, ' caw-cawing ' at the folly and conceit of the little tree ; and, meeting the gardener, ' Good friend,' he said, ' I have just now been much struck by the conceit and absur- dity of a little tree beside yonder hedge. It is 52 THE CLEVER BOY. rather a pretty little thing, and might be brought to something if it were in the society of trees taller and wiser than itself ; but while it has no other companions than brambles and bushes, it will never try to grow tall. Do, good friend, take pity on this tree, and remove it into better company.' And the gardener had a great respect for the opinion of the old rook, and went, the next day, with a spade, and removed the turf, and bared the roots of the conceited tree. ' It is a stunted little thing/ he said ; ' but I will place it in society that will draw it up ; ' and he trans- planted it into a plantation where there were straight and noble trees. The little sapling felt bitterly its own insignificance, and its leaves hung helplessly from the boughs. There were neither hedges, nor brambles, nor nettles, to flatter its vanity nothing to pamper its self-love. There was nothing it could look down on ; the wood- bine turned to the oak for support, and the wild vine clung around the ash. Thus, when the little tree derived no pleasure from looking down, it be- gan to look up. There was a proud, fierce sound amid the leaves of the noble trees, and the breezes carried the sound far and wide. The THE CLEVER BOY. 53 gardener had planted the little tree where it had plenty of head room ; and a very beautiful beech which grew near it said, ' Dear me, how you are shooting ! ' and several of the good-natured trees remarked one to the otter, that ' their little neigh- bor seemed determined to grow.' This was quite true. When removed from the babble of low-bred flattery, and placed with those that were better and higher than itself, the little tree began to under- stand that false praise that is, praise for what is not delved is the bitterest of all censures ; and all its hope was, that it might grow like other trees, to be useful according to its kind. One stormy night a sheep and her lamb sheltered beneath its branches. That made the tree now no longer little very happy. In a few more years the gardener laid his hand on its stem, and said to a gentleman who was walking with him, ' See what cultivation which is the educa- tion of trees does ! This was a little stunted thing ; but the good society of tall saplings drew it up. See what it is now ! ' " And another day, when there was a very high wind, the tree saw an old, gray-headed rook drifting about, and it invited him to rest ; and 64 ONLY ONE BRICK ON ANOTHER. the rook did so ; and the tree recognized the roice of its friend. 'I am happy to see you, grandfather rook,' it said ; ' very happy to see you ; you and yours are quite welcome to rest on or build your nests amongfcay branches. But for you, I should have remained as I was, to be fooled and flattered by brambles now ; but I have learned to let acts, and not words, tell what I am.' And the old rook ' caw-cawed ' again and again, and signified that he knew the time would come when that very tree would be remarl^d alike for its vigor and its beauty. And the old rook told the history of the tree as old people sometimes tell histories over and over again. " I ant sure I would be very proud if it taught you, my dear, the folly of believing that you are clever, because people who do not understand what cleverness is, say you are so." ONLY ONE BRICK ON ANOTHER. Edwin was one day looking at a large building, which they were putting up just opposite to his ONLY ONE BRICK ON ANOTHER. 55 house. He watched the workmen from day to day, as they carried up the bricks and mortar, and then placed them in their proper order. His father said to him, " Edwin, you seem to be very much taken up with the bricklayers ; pray, what may you be thinking about ? Have you any notion of learning the trade ? " " No," said Edwin, smiling ; " but I was just thinking what a little thing a brick is, and yet that great house is built by laying one brick on another." "Very true, my boy. Never forget it. Just so it is in all great works. All your learning is only one little lesson added to another. If a man could walk all around the world, it would be by putting one foot before the other. Your whole life will be made up of one little moment af- ter another. Drop added to drop makes the ocean. " Learn from this not to despise little things. Learn also not to be discouraged by great labors. The greatest labor becomes easy if divided into parts. You could not jump over a mountain, but step by step takes you to the other side. Do not fear, therefore, to attempt great things. Always remember that the whole of that great building is only one brick upon another." 56 THE ADVENT OF HOPE. THE ADVENT OF HOPE. Once on a time, from scenes of light An angel winged his airy flight ; Down to this earth in haste he came, And wrote, in lines of living flame, These words on every thing he met, Cheer up ; be not discouraged yet." Then back to heaven with speed he flew. Attuned his golden harp anew, Whilst the angelic throng came round To catch the soul-inspiring sound ; And heaven was filled with new delight For HOPE had been to earth that night. CHILD AND SIRE. " Know you what intemperance is ? " I asked a little child, Who seemed fcao young to sorrow know. So beautiful and mild. It raised its tiny, blue-veined hand, And to a churchyard near It pointed, whilst from glistening eye Came forth the silent tear. FLOWERS. 57 FLOWERS. [PETER, NELLiE r