GIFT or 
 
 Ella Sterling Mighels 
 
40 o ^ II O C i» 
 
 
 
LyU/DFPBACM o"r 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 THE NEW SCHOLAR. 
 
 See paf^e io6. 
 
THE 
 
 Wonderful Story 
 
 OF 
 
 GENTLE HAND, 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 By T. S. ARTHUR. 
 
 > » * 3 ». 
 
 CHICAGO, ILLS.: 
 
 WESTERN PUBLISHING HOUSE. 
 
 18 74. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year LV, ^y 
 
 y. M. STODDART d- CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington 
 
 QiPTQH 
 
 ^^' '^^-^y 
 
 r^ilS%:^:'\V-, \ I :] 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND 9 
 
 THE SQUIRREL HUNT .. 53 
 
 NEDDY HARRIS 55 
 
 ONE OF BABY'S TEACHERS 79 
 
 EASTER EGGS 83 
 
 HOW BOBBY RYAN CAME NEAR BEING DROWNED 89 
 
 BE A .GOOD GIRL . . 92 
 
 THE SNOW STORM 96 
 
 GOD'S ACRE IOC 
 
 THE WHITE ROSE 104 
 
 THE NEW SCHOLAR .. .. .. .. .. 106 
 
 THE SISTERS 108 
 
 KATIE'S RIDE DOWN HIl.1 113 
 
 CHRISTMAS IS COMING .. .. ^ " 119 
 
 DON'T^.CRY OVER SPILLED MILK ,. 132 
 
 TIRED OF READING .. 136 
 
 THE YOUNG SOLDIER 141 
 
 b 
 
 903954 
 
PAGH 
 
 THE NEW SCHC .AR Frontispiece. 
 
 GRETCHEN'S VISIT n 
 
 EASTER EGGS 15 
 
 BOBBY RYAN'S DELIVERANCE 25 
 
 THE RUINED CASTLE 35 
 
 THE SQUH ?.EL HUNT 51 
 
 NEDDY THINKS 56 
 
 BRAIN FOOD 63 
 
 NEDDY FISHING 68 
 
 THE YOUNG SOLDIER 71 
 
 WASN'T GOD VERY GOOD TO LET US HAVE HIM ? 79 
 
 FANNY IS NOT GOOD .. 84 
 
 BE A GOOD GIRL .. 93 
 
 I'M SO DISA. POINTED * 97 
 
 FIARRY DELTGHTKD 9^ 
 
8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGR 
 
 GOD'S ACRE * .. loi 
 
 THE WHITE ROSE 104 
 
 LOVING SISTER AND SWEET PET BROTHER .. no 
 
 COASTING, OR DOWN HILL 115 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING .. .. .. 123 
 
 TIRED OF READING 137 
 
Gentle Hand. 
 
 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 M going to tell you about a child who lived a great 
 many years ago in a far-away country — a little de- 
 formed and homely child. When only two years old, 
 she fell and hurt herself very badly and had to lie in 
 bed a long time. A great hump grew on her back, her 
 breast-bone was pushed out and her head was drawn down 
 between her shoulders. Her face lost its healthy color and 
 roundness, and had a pale, pinched look that was sad to see. 
 
 She was unlovely in all eyes save the eyes of her widowed 
 mother, who lived in a mean little cottage, for they were very 
 poor. The child's name was Elsie. 
 
 One gloomy day in mid-winter, when the air was full of snow 
 and the north winds rushing and roaring through the great 
 forest, a woodman, in passing the poor widow's cottage, noticed 
 that no smoke came out of the chimney, and he said to him- 
 self: 
 
* 9 
 
 .•i>(^:;^^ I /. ^ 'wonderful s'J'orv of gentle hand. 
 
 '' What does this mean ? I must stop and see. The widow 
 Hermann may be sick." 
 
 So he turned aside and knocked at the door. But as no one 
 bade him come in, he lifted the latch and entered the cottage. 
 How cold and still it was ! No fire on the hearth and no sign 
 of life. 
 
 Then he pushed open a little chamber door, and saw^ a sight 
 that drew tears to his eyes. On the bed, with a white but 
 peaceful face, lay the widow Hermann, and close beside her 
 was Elsie — the mother in the land of spirits, the child in the 
 land of dreams. For a moment or two the woodman stood 
 gazing at the two pale faces, and then turned noiselessly away 
 and left the cottage. His own poor hut w^as nearly half a mile 
 distant, and he ran all the way through the blinding snow. 
 
 '' Oh, Felice," he cried, in a panting voice, as he swung open 
 the door of his hut, "the widow Hermann is dead!" 
 
 " Well," answered Felice, coldly, '' we've all got to die one 
 time or another. It's her time now, that's all." 
 
 "But," said the woodman, "I found her dead in her cottage. 
 I was going by and saw no smoke coming from the chimney, 
 and so I w^ent in to see what was the matter, and there she lay 
 dead, with little Elsie asleep by her side. Such a sight ! I 
 haven't got over it yet !" And the man shivered. 
 
 Now, Felice was not tender of feeling like her husband, but 
 a cold, selfish, hard-hearted woman. 
 
 " It's no matter of ours," she answered. " Let somebody 
 else find it out." 
 
 At this the woodman got angry and spoke roughly to his 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 wife, calling her evil names. A violent quarrel ending in blows 
 would have followed had not a little old woman with a wrinkled 
 face, her cloak white with snow, pushed open the door of their 
 hut and cried, reproachfully, 
 
 *'For shame, good neighbors !" 
 
 " Why, Gretchen !" said the woodman, in surprise, turning to 
 the small, quaint figure that stood in the door. "It's no day 
 for you to be out." 
 
 " I'm neither salt nor sugar," answered the woman, with a 
 strange little laugh that had in it something pleasant and 
 cheery. '' All days are alike to me when there's good to be 
 done." 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked the woodman. 
 
 "To the widow Hermann's. She was sick yesterday. And 
 
12 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 Hans Gobreight, who drove by her cottage this morning, says 
 he didn't see any smoke coming out of her chimney." 
 
 Felice and her husband exchanged glances. 
 
 " Then I'll go with you," said the woodman. 
 
 "Ah! that's eood !" exclaimed old Gretchen. "You were 
 always a kind neighbor." 
 
 The woodman spoke in low tones to his wife, but she 
 answered sharply : 
 
 " I wonder at you, Paul, when you know Fm cramped and 
 aching with rheumatism ! It would be the death of me to go 
 out on a day like this." 
 
 Then she drew her husband aside and said to him in a low 
 whisper : 
 
 '' Mind ye, Paul, and don't bring that ugly Elsie home with 
 you ! I won't have her." 
 
 The woodman and the little old woman, Frau Gretchen, 
 went in the thickly-falling snow to the lonely cottage on the 
 roadside. They found everything just as when Paul was there 
 an hour before — the mother in the land of spirits and Elsie in 
 the land of dreams — but did not waken the child until a fire 
 was kindled. Then Paul lifted her up tenderly, and carried 
 her out of the chamber where she had been sleeping beside 
 her dead mother. 
 
 Poor little Elsie! Homely, deformed and almost helpless, 
 what was to become of her ? As the woodman held her in his 
 arms he thought of this, and a sad feeling came into his heart. 
 He looked into her pinched, colorless face, and it was unlovely 
 in his eyes — nay, almost repulsive. The hump on her back 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 1 3 
 
 came sharply against his breast and made him shiver. He was 
 about putting her down on the floor, so strong was the feeUng 
 of disHke that came over him, when her soft Htde hand was 
 laid on his, touching it gently as a falling snow-flake, but with 
 a living warmth that seemed to dissolve and run down to his 
 heart, making it glow with a new and tender delight. 
 
 The arm that was relaxing tightened its hold on Elsie, and 
 she was drawn closer against the woodman's breast. What did 
 this mean ? The little baby-fingers — for they were small as a 
 baby's — still rested on Paul's great rough hand, and the current 
 of love kept running down to his heart, and thrilling it with a 
 strange pleasure such as he had never known. And now, 
 when he looked into the pale, wan face, it did not seem repuls- 
 ive ; nay, its very homeliness was gone, and in its stead he 
 saw something soft and pure and tender that won his love. It 
 was a wonderful transformation. 
 
 Old Gretchen came out from the chamber of death, and 
 stood for a while looking at the child, who was still held closely 
 against the woodman's heart. 
 
 "Take the baby home, good neighbor," she said, ''and then 
 go for the Sisters." 
 
 " I will take her to the Sisters," answered Paul. 
 
 But Gretchen said, 
 
 " No, no ! Felice and you are childless. Take her home." 
 
 Then Gretchen put warm garments around Elsie to protect 
 her from the snow and cold, and the woodman carried her to 
 his hut. When Felice saw him enter with the child in his arms, 
 she flew into a great passion. 
 
14 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 "Why did you bring die ugly wretch here?" she cried. 
 " Take her to the Sisters !" And she waved her hand toward 
 the door. 
 
 The poor child shrank in terror against the woodman's 
 breast. One litde soft hand lay in his, and the magic of its 
 touch filled his heart with love and courage. 
 
 Paul did not heed his wife, but sat down with the child in his 
 arms, and commenced taking off the thick w^rappings that old 
 Gretchen had put round her. 
 
 *'Take her away! Take her away!" cried Felice, more 
 angrily. '' Take her to the Sisters !" 
 
 But Paul answered firmly : " No, Felice. We will keep the 
 poor litde thing. She has no mother now, and you will be a 
 mother to her." 
 
 On hearing this the woman became more enraged, and 
 threatened to fling Elsie out into the snow if her husband did 
 not take the child off instantly. 
 
 And now a wonderful thing happened. Elsie struggled out 
 of the kind arms that held her, and standing before the woman, 
 touched one of her hands gently. A quick change was seen in 
 the woman's face. An angry word died half spoken on her 
 tongue. She stood very still, though a moment before her body 
 swayed with passion. 
 
 The child's soft hand rested on the woman's hand so lighdy 
 that it seemed like down. A long silence. Then Felice said 
 in a voice that trembled with feeling, 
 
 " Poor litde one !" And stooping down, she gathered the 
 child into her arms and kissed her pale face with motherly ten- 
 
1 LAt'cr-'SAC h 
 
 EASTER EGGS. 
 
 See page 86. 
 
> ^-i 4 
 
WONDERFUL STORY c . LE HAND. 1 7 
 
 derness. As she did so, the hand ci iiisic. vas laid on her face, 
 and it seemed as if a new Hfe came 'v:- --*" he hand, warm and 
 sweet, and full of tenderness and lov^ . 
 
 "We will keep her, Paul," said his wife, "and I will be a 
 mother to her." 
 
 Did Elsie know of the strange power that lay in her small 
 hand ? I think she did. It was soft and weak as a baby's, and 
 yet so wonderfully strong that its touch could change anger 
 into love. What a gift it was ! Better for her, poor litde 
 motherless one ! deformed in body and unlovely in counte- 
 nance, than to have been the possessor of great riches, for gold 
 does not bring love — love, the best and sweetest thing in life. 
 
 Leaving Elsie with his wife, the woodman went through the 
 fast-falling snow to the convent not far off, and told the Sisters 
 of poor widow Hermann's death, as Gretchen had desired him 
 to do, and then returned home, for he felt troubled about Elsie, 
 knowing his wife's hardness and bad temper. He would not 
 have been greatly surprised if he had found little Elsie shiver- 
 ing in the snow outside of his hut. The magic of her touch he 
 did not yet understand. He had felt its power, yet did not 
 perceive clearly from whence it came. The love born of that 
 touch was very sweet, but his dull mind did not see how, like 
 an electric current, it had leaped from her fingers to his heart, 
 and from her fingers to the heart of Felice. 
 
 Paul did not find Elsie lying in the snow outside of his hut, 
 but fast asleep, with her head resting peacefully on the bosom 
 of Felice, who raised her fingers in silent warning as he entered, 
 and then let her eyes fall with a gaze of tenderness on the 
 
1 8 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND, 
 
 child, whose soft hand lay closely shut within one of her own. 
 Paul came and sat down by his wife, and bent lovingly over the 
 sleeping little one. 
 
 '' She isn't at all homely," whispered Felice, gazing down at 
 the poor pinched face. " I never saw such beautiful hair ;" and 
 she lifted some of it on her fingers. '' It is like spun gold ! 
 And such soft skin, Paul ! I've been looking at it for ever so 
 long. See how the blue veins run across her temples and over 
 her eyelids and down her white neck ! Oh, I think her almost 
 handsome, Paul. We will keep her. She shall be ours — our 
 own Elsie, if she is deformed, poor little one !" 
 
 And Felice could not help kissing the child just as a fond 
 mother would have done. Elsie's large eyes opened, and she 
 looked wonderlngly and half frightened Into the faces bending 
 over her. They were so full of love that her heart took cour- 
 aee and the scared look vanished. 
 
 The child did not ask for her mother, but by her sorrowful 
 face and eyes every now and then filling with tears, it was plain 
 to the woodman and his wife that Elsie knew her mother was 
 dead, and the pity they felt made them love her the more. 
 
 Now, the Sisters at the convent, when they heard that Elsie 
 had been taken home by Paul, said one to another, 
 
 ''This will never do. Felice is cold, selfish and cruel, and 
 will be unkind to the child. She must come Into the convent 
 as one of God's poor." 
 
 And they sent two of their number to the woodman's hut to 
 bring Elsie away. 
 
 The stormy day was drawing to Its close. Felice was busy 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 1 9 
 
 getting supper, and Paul sat near the fire with Elsie on his 
 knee. There was a rap on the door, and the two Sisters from 
 the convent, their black garments covered with snow, entered 
 and said to Paul and his wife : 
 
 "We have come for litde Elsie." 
 
 "And will go back without her!" answered Felice, flashing 
 up angrily and going quickly over to where Paul sat with the 
 child. She had no respect for any one nor fear of any one 
 when her will was crossed. 
 
 " Her mother is in heaven, and she is one of God's poor 
 who are given into our care," said the Sisters, gendy. 
 
 "God has given her into our care, good Sisters," spoke out 
 Paul, mildly but firmly. "She is our child now, and we will 
 love her as our own." 
 
 As Felice stood by her husband and Elsie, her eyes full of 
 angry defiance, like some wild beast whose young were threat- 
 ened, the Sisters saw a strange thing that filled them with 
 wonder. A litde hand reached out and laid itself gendy on 
 the woman's hand. Then the fire went out of her eyes, the 
 hardness and anger from her lips, and a motherly tenderness 
 and softness stole over her countenance. Stooping down, she 
 kissed the child fondly, then lifted her into her arms. Elsie 
 laid her head with a low murmur of sadsfaction against the 
 bosom of Felice, and looked into the eyes that were bent upon 
 her with love and confidence. 
 
 " It is kind in you to come for her, good Sisters," said Felice, 
 in so changed a voice that they marveled still more, "but she 
 is our child, and we cannot let her go, because we love her." 
 
20 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND, 
 
 The Sisters went back to the convent, wondering at what 
 they had seen and heard, and unable to understand its mean- 
 ing. 
 
 That night, after Elsie was asleep, Paul and his wife sat talk- 
 ing together, and soon fell into their old bad habit of speaking 
 roughly to each other. Felice had a very sharp tongue, the 
 thrust of which Paul could not always stand, and so they often 
 got to quarreling. Their loud and angry voices soon awoke 
 the child, who started up in affright. But love quickly over- 
 came her fear. In an instant, gliding like a spirit across the 
 floor, she was at the side of Felice, her soft hand resting on 
 that of the angry woman, and the sweetness and gentleness of 
 her own pure heart going in warm currents to that of the other. 
 
 Ah ! we have the secret of Elsie's power now. It was love. 
 The reaching forth of her hand was only an effort to give of 
 her love with all its gentle sweetness, and the touch of that 
 hand was like a good deed, full of blessing. 
 
 Anger went out like a candle blown on suddenly, and peace 
 came in where passion had ruled a moment before. The wood- 
 man and his wife grew dumb in the presence of a child. 
 
 It was known to all the neio^hbors far and near that the 
 woodman's wife was a hard and passionate woman, and when 
 they heard that Elsie had gone to live with her, every one pit- 
 ied the child and said that her life would be wretched. What 
 was their surprise when It was told by one and another who 
 happened to call In at the woodman's hut that Elsie was happy 
 in her new home, and that Felice was kind and loving to her as 
 a mother ! 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 21 
 
 The Sisters told what they had seen, and this neighbor and 
 that told what she had seen, and all agreed that the child had 
 some wonderful power in her hands, for at their softest touch 
 the fire had been seen to go out of angry faces. Soon the 
 neighbors began to speak of the child as "Gentle Hand," and 
 the fame of her magic touch spread far and wide, until it came 
 to the ears of a lady, the wife of a great lord, who lived in a 
 castle. Now, the name of this lady was Margaret, and she 
 had five children — two sons and three daughters — and there 
 was strife among these children always, so that the lady had 
 no comfort with them, but was, on account of this strife, almost 
 heartbroken at times. 
 
 When the Lady Margaret heard of Gentle Hand and the 
 strange power of her softest touch — how it subdued anger and 
 filled all hearts with kindness and love — she said to herself, '' I 
 must see this wonderful child, and if all be true that is told of 
 her, I will bring her home to the castle and set her among my 
 children." 
 
 So she went in her carriage almost a day's journey to the 
 woodman's hut — for she lived a long way off — to see Elsie, or 
 Gentle Hand, as we must call her. Now^ it happened that on 
 this very day Felice had died, after a sudden illness that lasted 
 only a few hours, and when the Lady Margaret came to the 
 woodman's hut she found death and sorrow therein. 
 
 " Is there a child here called Gentle Hand ?" she asked of 
 Paul, who met her at the door of his poor hovel. 
 
 " There Is a child here called Elsie," answered the wondering 
 Paul. 
 
2 2 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 "May I see her?" said the Lady Margaret as she stepped 
 down from her carriage. 
 
 Paul made a sign for her to enter, and in the next moment 
 she stood in the presence of the dead woman, who had been 
 laid out by the Sisters, two of whom sat near the body. A 
 child with a wan, shrunken, almost repulsive face looked up as 
 she came in, and gazed at her through tearful eyes. 
 
 " That is Elsie," said the woodman. 
 
 " You have another child here ?" said the lady. 
 
 " Only Elsie," replied the woodman with a sorrowful tender- 
 ness that did not escape the lady's notice. 
 
 Lady Margaret was silent for some moments. She felt 
 greatly disappointed. This she thought was not the child in 
 search of whom she had come so far. There had been some 
 mistake. Then she asked about the dead wife of Paul, and 
 while the Sisters answered her questions she held out her hand 
 in pity toward Elsie, but the child did not move. 
 
 '' Will you not come and speak to me ?" asked the lady. 
 
 " Go to her, Elsie," said the Sisters. 
 
 Then the child went slowly across to where the Lady 
 Margaret sat, and laid one of her soft little hands in that which 
 had been stretched out to her. 
 
 The Sisters, who were looking at Lady Margaret, saw her 
 face flush and change. She fixed her gaze in a searching kind 
 of way on the child's countenance, while a tender light began 
 to shine in her eyes. 
 
 " Is this the child they call Gentle Hand ?" she asked, in a 
 subdued voice, lookino- at the Sisters. 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 23 
 
 *' Many call her Gentle Hand," they replied. 
 
 Then the lady, moved, it seemed, by a feeling she could not 
 control, stooped over Elsie and kissed her lips and forehead 
 with loving tenderness. The soft hand with its magic touch 
 still lay in hers, and now she held it tightly. 
 
 '' Will you go home and live with me ?" asked the lady. 
 
 Elsie drew away quickly and went over to the side of Paul, 
 who was standing by his dead wife. Paul, who had heard what 
 the lady said, took up Elsie and held her for a little while 
 closely to his breast. Then crossing the room, he laid her 
 light and tiny form in the arms of Lady Margaret, saying as 
 he did so, in a broken voice : 
 
 " My poor hut is no place for her now." 
 
 Rising quickly, ere Elsie could object the lady bore her out 
 to her carriage, and a moment after they were driven rapidly 
 away. 
 
 Bewildered, passive, helpless, the child made no resistance, 
 but sat very still on the cushioned seat opposite the lady. It 
 seemed to her that all this was a dream, and that she would 
 soon awaken. Her heart was full of sorrow for Felice, who 
 had been kind to her as a mother. 
 
 The Lady Margaret saw the sorrow in her homely little face, 
 and pity, mingled with a strange yearning love, stirred her 
 heart, so she reached out her hand and said : 
 
 " Come and sit beside me." 
 
 As Elsie moved to obey she grasped the extended hand. In 
 the next moment she was lifted into Lady Margaret's arms and 
 drawn closely to her bosom, a new, strange feeling darting 
 
24 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 throueh her. The maoric touch of the child's hand had sent a 
 quick thrill of tenderness to her heart. 
 
 " Is it a fairy child ?" said the lady to herself^ wonderingly, " or 
 an angel disguised in a poor, deformed body ?" 
 
 It was an angel disguised, or rather imprisoned, in a body of 
 flesh. The lady's thought had reached the truth. 
 
 Every moment, as the hand of Elsie continued to rest in 
 hers, the Lady Margaret felt her love grow deeper and 
 stronger. Looking down upon the child's face, it seemed to 
 change in her eyes ; the pale skin had a semi-transparent tex- 
 ture and a warmth of color as from light within. The features 
 lost their pinched aspect, rounding to a softer fullness. What 
 was homely, almost repulsive, a little while before, now put on 
 a garment of beauty. 
 
 Nor was all this a mere fancy. Part of the transformation 
 was real. If the purity and innocence of Elsie, with whose 
 spirit angels dwelt in close companionship, though she knew it 
 not, made itself felt in other hearts by the touch of her hand, 
 the love she awakened by this touch came back in returning 
 currents to her own heart, and thence flushed her face, giving 
 it a semblance of beauty. • 
 
 The lady bent over Elsie and kissed her on lips and cheeks 
 and forehead. 
 
 " Will you love me ?" asked the child, putting up her small 
 arms and clasping them around the lady's neck. 
 
 '' Yes, if you will go home with me and be like one of my 
 own children," answered the Lady Margaret, again kissing her 
 fondly. 
 

 .S>(' paa-r 89. 
 
 HOW B(JHBV RYAN CAME NEAR BEING DROWNED. 
 
2 "^: 
 
 '^z%-'i^:.' 
 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 2 J 
 
 " Will they love me ?" asked Elsie, a shadow falling across 
 her face as she looked down at her poor garments. 
 
 For a little while the lady did not speak. Ah, too well she 
 knew that no love awaited the child ! But then, as she felt the 
 soft arms clasping her neck, she said in her heart, " She is an 
 angel, and where an angel dwells there will be love." Speak- 
 ing aloud she answered : 
 
 " Love brings love. Oh yes ! They cannot help loving 
 you." 
 
 Elsie gazed long into the tender eyes that bent over her ; 
 then her head sank upon the Lady Margaret's bosom, and as 
 the carriage rocked her gently like an infant in a cradle, she 
 fell asleep. 
 
 Lord Hubert, the husband of Lady Margaret, was a bold, 
 passionate, wicked man, feared by all over whom he had any 
 power. Carl, his oldest son, a boy of fifteen, had all the bad 
 qualities of his father, and was as active in stirring up strife at 
 home as his father too often was among his neighbors. Helen, 
 younger by two years than Carl, was self-willed and exacting, 
 and Ursula, ten years of age, had a fiery temper that no dis- 
 cipline or punishment had been able to restrain. Hubert, 
 seven years old, and Lilli, in her fifth summer, took from their 
 mother more of her gentle character than the rest, but their 
 lives were often made miserable by their older brothers and 
 sisters, who took an evil delight in tormenting them. 
 
 Into such a home as this the Lady Margaret brought the 
 unlovely crippled child. Gentle Hand was sound asleep 
 among the cushions in the carriage when they arrived, long 
 
28 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 after nightfall, at the castle, and a servant was ordered to lift 
 her sofdy and to carry her to one of the chambers. 
 
 Lord Hubert had grown impatient at his wife's long absence, 
 and met her with angry words. The children had been quarrel- 
 ing amone themselves, as usual, and filled her ears with com- 
 plaints and accusations. 
 
 "Where have you been?" demanded her husband, a dark 
 frown on his face, as soon as they were alone. 
 
 The Lady Margaret answered truly that she had been a long 
 distance in search of a child about whom she had heard strange 
 things, and that she had found the child and brought her home, 
 but she did not say what the strange things were. 
 
 At this Lord Hubert grew more angry, and said that he 
 would not have other people's children brought into the castle 
 without his consent. Lady Margaret pleaded with him, but 
 this only made him the more violent. 
 
 "Where is the child?" he demanded. 
 
 The Lady Margaret took him into the chamber where th'^e 
 servant had borne Cxentle Hand, and they found the weary 
 child lying asleep on the bed. 
 
 "The fright!" cried Lord Hubert as his eyes rested on her 
 pinched and homely face. Gende Hand started up at his 
 angry voice. 
 
 "Take her away!" He spoke in stern command to a ser- 
 vant, who went quickly to the bed and lifted Gentle Hand in 
 her arms. But as the child clung about her neck and she felt 
 the touch of her soft hand, a strange thing happened. She 
 stood modonless for an instant, a gleam of surprise in her face, 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 29 
 
 and then she put the child back gently and with a reverent air, 
 bending over and gazing upon her with looks of tenderest 
 love. 
 
 At this Lord Huoert became furious, and laying his hand on 
 the servant, drew her violently from the bed. Then he caught 
 up the child, saying, in his cruel anger, 
 
 " I will throw her out of the window !" and strode across the 
 floor, meaning to do what he had said. But stopping suddenly, a 
 look half of wonder, half of fear, on his bold, bad face, he gazed 
 down at the child. Lady Margaret, who had started forward 
 with a cry of terror, stood sdll also, and looking closely, saw 
 that a hand of Elsie's was clinging tightly to one of Lord 
 Hubert's. 
 
 What a moment of joy for the heart of Margaret ! Tears 
 gushed from her eyes. She clasped her hands together, and 
 looking upward, gave thanks to God. 
 
 As for Lord Hubert, he seemed to himself to be in a dream. 
 Suddenly all anger toward this child had gone out of him, and 
 in its stead there had come into his heart a tender feeling, like 
 that of a mother for her baby. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, my poor child," he said, in so changed a 
 voice and with so changed a manner that it seemed to those 
 that heard him as if another man were speaking; "I will not 
 harm a hair of your head." 
 
 Then looking toward Lady Margaret, who was crying for joy, 
 he asked, 
 
 " What is her name ?" 
 
 " She is called Gentle Hand," was the answer. 
 
30 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 '' Gentle Hand ! Gentle Hand !" And Lord Hubert looked 
 more bewildered as he repeated the name. 
 
 Then the Lady Margaret went up close to her husband, and 
 speaking softly in his ear, so that the child could not hear her 
 words, said, 
 
 " I think she is an angel." 
 
 A shade of reverence, not unmingled with fear, passed over 
 the hold's man's face. He made a movement to lay Gentle 
 Hand on the bed from which he had taken her, but as he did 
 so she turned and clung to him, saying, "Won't you love me?" 
 in tones that sounded sweet to his ears. 
 
 Love flooded his heart with a passionate tenderness not to be 
 repressed, and drawing the child close to his bosom, he held 
 her there for a long time. Then he kissed her fondly, answer- 
 ing, as he laid her back upon the bed, 
 
 " Oh yes ! I will love you." 
 
 A heavenly smile lit up the face of Gentle Hand, and her 
 eyes were bright as stars. 
 
 The words that Lady Margaret had spoken, " I think she is 
 an angel," made a deep impression on Lord Hubert. As he 
 stood looking down upon her, a soft light seemed to spread 
 over and around her face, and all the features to change into 
 lineaments of beauty. The tender reverence felt for her a 
 litde while before grew stronger, and when Lady Margaret 
 said,in a low voice, "She has been sent to us from heaven," he 
 felt that it was so. 
 
 On the next morning, as Carl, the eldest son of Lord Hu- 
 bert, was coming down the great stone staircase that led to the 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 3 1 
 
 hall, he saw his Httle sister Lilli on one of the landings, sittino- 
 by the side of a strange child. Now, Carl was a born tyrant, 
 and never let an opportunity for oppressing or annoying any 
 one pass unimproved. The sight of a poor litde hunchback 
 with a pale, unlovely face, instead of touching his heart with 
 pity, filled him with an evil desire to give her pain. 
 
 " Ho !" he cried, in a harsh, cruel voice, and springing 
 down the stairway, stood in front of the children, grinning and 
 frowning at them by turns, and trying to frighten the little 
 stranger. 
 
 " Go away, Carl, you bad boy !" said Lilli as she jumped up 
 and stood between her brother and Gentle Hand. 
 
 " Oh what a fright ! Where did she come from ? Who is 
 she ? I'll get a cage and show her off like a bear or an ape." 
 And Carl, as he said this, took hold of Lilli and tried to push 
 her away, so that he might come close up to Gende Hand. 
 
 But Lilli, gende and sweet as she was by nature, had a brave 
 young heart, and now that her cruel brother talked of putdng 
 this poor litde stranger into a cage, all fear left her, and she 
 stood bravely in front of Gende Hand, and resisted the efforts 
 of Carl to thrust her aside. Then he grew very angry, and 
 his loud voice rang up the stairway and along the halls, reach- 
 ing even to the chamber where his father lay sleeping, and 
 arousing him from slumber. In vain were all dear litde Lilli's 
 brave efforts to protect Gende Hand from the rude assaults of 
 her brother. Carl, maddened by her resistance, dragged her 
 fiercely away, and threatened to fling her down the stairs. 
 
 Frightened more for Gende Hand than herself, Lilli, as soon 
 
32 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 as she could get free from Carl, ran wildly to her father's cham- 
 ber, and as she flung open the door cried, 
 
 " Oh come ! Come quickly ! Carl is going to put a poor 
 little lame girl in a cage. Oh, don't let him, for she's good." 
 
 Then Lord Hubert knew that it was Gentle Hand of whom 
 Lilli spoke, and he ran out into the hall and across to the stair- 
 way. All was silent now. Lord Hubert bent over the balus- 
 trade, and looking down, saw a sight that made his heart leap 
 and then tremble down into a strange stillness. Carl stood, as 
 fixed as a statue, just in front of the child, looking upon her 
 with a tender surprise in his face. She had reached out one 
 of her hands, that lay sofdy on one of his. Lady Margaret 
 was by his side looking down also at the group below them. 
 
 " The eood God has sent an ancrel into our house," she whis- 
 pered as she gazed upon Lord Hubert with tearful eyes. 
 
 Lord Hubert did not answer, but went back to his chamber, 
 saying, in his heart, 
 
 " It must be an angel." 
 
 And now a new feeling came into his heart, and he was able 
 to perceive in goodness a beauty and desirableness never seen 
 before. As he thought of the power that lay in the touch of 
 this child, his wonder increased. What could it all mean ? 
 
 The power of a strong right arm wielding a sword, a spear 
 or a battle-axe was something he could understand. But here 
 was a mystery that baffled him, and the more he thought about 
 it, the more he was puzzled. , 
 
 Below all this wonder and bewilderment lay a sense of 
 pleasure so new to Lord Hubert that, as he thought of it, won- 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 33 
 
 der had a fresh increase. A state of feeling had been born in 
 his soul, which, every time the image of Gentle Hand grew 
 distinct in his mind, moved him with a strong impulse to better 
 things. 
 
 "Tell me all you know about this Gentle Hand," he said to 
 Ladv Maroraret, and she told him all she knew — how she had 
 heard strange stories about a child with such a wonderful 
 touch that it not only made every one love her, but changed 
 anger into gentleness, and how she had gone a long way to 
 see this child, and found everything she had heard about her 
 true. 
 
 And Lord Hubert said : '' It is well. If she bring love and 
 peace to our castle, then is she sent of God." 
 
 Never had Lady Margaret seen him so softened, or heard 
 him speak after this manner. 
 
 *' It is a wonderful hand," Lord Hubert said, speaking as if 
 to himself '* I can feel it now, sweet In its touch as a strain of 
 music to the ear, and as penetrating to the soul. Hark !" 
 
 A jangle of harsh voices rang through the hall — children's 
 voices, in which, louder than the rest, were those of Carl and 
 Helen. A shadow of pain fell over the face of Lady Margaret, 
 and one of anger over that of Lord Hubert, who strode out 
 from his chamber and down the great stairway to the hall 
 below, where he found Carl, Helen and Ursula in a fierce 
 quarrel. Carl had a heavy whip In his hand, and had just 
 raised the large end to strike Ursula, when, swift and silent as 
 a bird, Gende Hand came flying in among the angry children, 
 and, before Lord Hubert could spring forward and grasp the 
 
34 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 arm of Carl, had, by a touch, made it weak for any cruel work 
 as an* infant's. 
 
 Over the boy's face there spread a blush of shame, and he 
 said to Gentle Hand, 
 
 " I was only in play." 
 " And Gentle Hand answered him, 
 
 "Don't even pretend; it is so dreadful to be angry and 
 cruel." 
 
 A deep silence and peace fell on parents and children as 
 they stood in the great hall, looking at the pale, shrunken, 
 deformed child, and all the eyes that looked upon her were full 
 of love. 
 
 One day, not long after Gentle Hand came to the castle. 
 Lord Hubert got into a great rage at Lady Margaret for some- 
 thing she had said or done. When he was in a passion he 
 always became violent, and sometimes gave cruel blows. On 
 this occasion he stormed about in a threatening way, and Lady 
 Margaret was in terror at his wild passion. No one was near 
 them except Lilli, their youngest child, a sweet litde tender- 
 hearted girl. 
 
 Lilli looked frightened at first, but in a moment or two the 
 fear went out of her face. Then there came over it a calm, 
 serious expression, and she went up to her father as she had 
 seen Gende Hand do, and laid on him one of her litde palms 
 that touched him as softly as a snow-flake. 
 
 Whether there was a heavenly magnetism in Lilli's touch, as 
 in that of Gende Hand, or whether the act only surprised her 
 father, I cannot tell, but Lord Hubert's anger died out on the 
 
THE RUINED CASILE. 
 
 See pa_i^c 132. 
 
t; *■ , a. _, » o -It, 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 2)7 
 
 instant. The dark blood that reddened his face went back to 
 his heart and left it almost pale. He stood for a few moments 
 like one who had been stunned by some unforeseen shock. 
 Then bending to Lilli, he lifted her in his arms and held her 
 closely against his breast. 
 
 "An angel has been long with us and we knew it not," he 
 said as he laid Lilli in her mother's arms, passing her the child 
 as a peace-offering. 
 
 A new joy and a new wonder were born in Lady Margaret's 
 heart as she took the child, murmuring as she did so, "My own 
 Gende Hand!" A litde while after she said, looking tenderly 
 into her husband's face, 
 
 " Love is sweeter than wrath." 
 
 "What mean you?" he answered. 
 
 Lady Margaret lifted one of his hands, and kissing it, said 
 again, 
 
 " Love Is sweeter than wrath." 
 
 Then her meaning penetrated his thought, and a new light 
 broke upon him. 
 
 "This is sweeter," he replied as he kissed her lips and 
 cheeks with a fervor she had not known for many long years. 
 Wildly, passionately, were the arms of Lady Margaret thrown 
 about her husband's neck, and wildly, passionately, as In the 
 far-off time when he had wooed and won her as his bride, did 
 he return her lovine caresses. 
 
 A new and better life was born in the heart of Lord Hubert 
 from that moment. He felt the first movings of higher Im- 
 pulses and nobler desires. 
 
 I 
 
38 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 " It is a great mystery," he said, speaking to Lady Margaret. 
 "I cannot make it out." 
 
 "The good God has sent an angel into our house," answered 
 Lady Margaret, " for only an angel could work so great a mir- 
 acle. Once — it is long ago — I heard an old monk tell my 
 father that a time would come when the lion would lie down 
 with the lamb and a little child lead them, and that time must 
 be coming now." 
 
 *' It is all very wonderful," said Lord Hubert. " I cannot 
 understand it. How can the light touch of a child's hand have 
 such mighty power?" 
 
 "Good wishes have power in good acts," said Lady Mar- 
 garet. "The will and the deed must go together, and it is 
 the hand that does the good deed. Without the hand the will 
 has no power." 
 
 Lord Hubert mused for a long time, then replied, 
 
 "A little light comes into my mind, and yet I see but 
 dimly." 
 
 "See w^hat?" inquired Lady Margaret. 
 
 " See that love may be sweeter than anger, kindness better 
 than cruelty and good deeds nobler than violence." 
 
 "Oh, my husband!" exclaimed Lady Margaret in joyful sur- 
 prise, laying her head on his bosom. A litde while she was 
 silent, then looking up into Lord Hubert's face, she asked, 
 
 "Who is noblest?" 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 "God is noblest," said Lady Margaret, speaking low and 
 reverently. 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 39 
 
 " Yes, noblest of all," replied Lord Hubert. 
 
 **No prince is so powerful," continued Lady Margaret. 
 
 " None," said her husband. 
 
 "Nor so honored and revered, and yet he is good to all, 
 and kind even to the unthankful and the evil." 
 
 Lord Hubert answered only with a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 "To be truly great must we not be godlike?" asked Lady 
 Margaret. " Princes and nobles are lifted above the people 
 and have power over them — power for good and power for 
 evil. They can be cruel and oppressive, filling the land with 
 violence, or wise and good, covering it with peace. Which is 
 best? Which is noblest?" 
 
 *'To cover the land with peace, my gentle Margaret," an- 
 swered Lord Hubert. 
 
 '' Alas for the people that our prince is cruel, an evil man 
 and full of violence !" said Lady Margaret, wondering within 
 herself at her boldness of speech, for her husband was a great 
 favorite with the prince, and had long been a man after his own 
 heart. 
 
 Lord Hubert did not answer, and Lady Margaret began to 
 fear that she had offended him, and to tremble in her heart 
 lest his anger should break forth into passionate words or per- 
 haps blows. 
 
 At this moment there came floating in upon them from afar 
 off the clear, rich notes of a buele. 
 
 "It is the prince," exclaimed Lord Hubert, starting up. 
 The countenance of Lady Margaret flushed and then grew 
 pale, while a troubled look setded in her eyes. 
 
40 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 " Is he coming to our castle ?" she asked. 
 
 '' Yes. There is to be a grand hunt in the forest. I had 
 forgotten to tell you." 
 
 All now was hurry and excitement. Soon the prince, with 
 nobles, servants and retainers, came dashing up to the casde 
 gate, and entering, filled the courtyard with men and horses 
 richly dressed and gay with plumes and trappings. 
 
 "Welcome, my prince!" was the greeting of Lord Hubert, 
 who was proud of the honor conferred by this visit. Lady 
 Margaret received him with courtesy and deference, yet with a 
 coldness she was not able to conceal. 
 
 " My lady is not warm in her welcome," said the prince as 
 he held the hand of Lady Margaret and looked boldly into her 
 eyes. " How now ? What does it mean ?" 
 
 "Our prince is always welcome," answered Lady Margaret, 
 and then asked, 
 
 "Is the young prince here ?" 
 
 A handsome boy, tall and graceful, with large, proud-looking 
 eyes, came forward and was warmly greeted by Lady Margaret, 
 while the prince looked on half pleased and half annoyed. 
 
 And now all was changed in and around the castle. Its dull 
 quiet gave way to sounds of mirth and revelry, to the tramping 
 and clanging of horses' feet and the tumult of voices. 
 
 On the morning of the second day, that on which the grand 
 hunt was to begin, there came a lady to the casUe and asked 
 to see the prince. When this was told him, he frowned heavily 
 and denied the lady an audience. The truth was, the prince 
 had had a quarrel with the lady's husband, a noble of the land, 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 4^ 
 
 and had violently seized his castle and given it to one of his 
 favorites. 
 
 But the lady refused to leave the castle until she could get 
 audience with her sovereign. Then the prince demanded of 
 Lord Hubert that she should be thrust out and driven away. 
 But Lord Hubert's heart had been touched by softer impulses, 
 and he was seeing in a new a.nd better light. His prince was 
 wrong; he knew it and felt it. And so he ventured to speak 
 in favor of the lady and her husband. At this the anger of th 
 prince burned hotly, and there was danger of a sudden quarrel 
 between him and Lord Hubert, for both were fierce and un- 
 governable when ruled by passion. Lady Margaret saw the 
 rising storm, and vainly tried with gentle words to draw from 
 the clouds of wrath that darkened their souls the fierce ligh'^ 
 ning that was just ready to leap out in consuming flames. A 
 feud between her husband and the prince would, she knew, be 
 bitter and terrible. 
 
 A few of the prince's favorites drew closer around him with 
 dark and scowling faces, ready to draw their swords at a word, 
 while as many of Lord Hubert's friends and retainers ranged 
 themselves on his side. 
 
 At this a wild cry of fear and pain broke from the lips of 
 Lady Margaret — a cry so full of anguish that it thrilled every 
 heart, and made the fiercest pause on the threshold of strife. 
 The echoes of this cry had scarcely died along the halls, and 
 all was yet hushed in a deep silence, when the sound of litde 
 feet was heard coming swiftly up the great stairway, pattering 
 like the fall of sudden rain, and a moment afterward a weird- 
 
42 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 looking child, with large, tender, startled eyes, came hastily into 
 the midst of this company of angry men, each of whom stood 
 with his hand on his sword-hilt, ready for the shedding of 
 blood. 
 
 " Oh, Gentle Hand !" exclaimed Lady Margaret, in a tone of 
 such strange meaning that every one gazed at the child in 
 wonder, except the prince, on whose countenance disgust 
 mingled with cruel passion. 
 
 "Take her away!" he cried, with angry impatience, but 
 scarcely had he spoken ere the child's hand was laid sofdy on 
 one of his hands, and he stood very still, with swift changes of 
 feeling trembling over his stern face and smoothing away its 
 savage lines. As if a vision had suddenly come before him 
 did he stand gazing down at the face upturned to his. And 
 now^ taking courage and hope, Lady Margaret spoke out in a 
 sweet, firm voice, saying, 
 
 " Oh, my prince, love is sweeter than anger, kindness better 
 than cruelty and good deeds nobler than violence !" 
 
 Those who heard this speech trembled as they looked at the 
 prince, expecting an answer full of stormy wrath at language 
 so bold and so rebuking. But strange to tell, the swift changes 
 of his countenance went on as he stood with the child's hand 
 still resting on one of his hands, until it lost every trace of 
 sternness and evil passions, and became gentle almost as a 
 loving woman's. Then he stooped, and lifdng the child in his 
 arms, said, 
 
 " What is your name ?" 
 
 *' 1 am Elsie," she answered, " but they call me Gende Hand." 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 43 
 
 The prince looked at her small hands, stroking them with his 
 own, and then laid one of them against his face, toying with it 
 in a fond sort of way. 
 
 *' It is a witch-child !" exclaimed a fierce noble, and drew his 
 sword. 
 
 "A witch-child!" cried two or three others, beginning to 
 crowd around the prince with angry scowls on their faces. 
 
 "An angel-child," answered Lady Margaret, speaking in 
 deep, impressive tones. "Put up your swords, my lords. 
 They are for the enemies of your prince, not for the mes- 
 senger Heaven sends to him on an errand of mercy." 
 
 The hands of the fierce nobles dropped weakly to their 
 sides, and they stood looking on with wonder-marked faces. 
 
 Then the lady who had come to ask justice pressed into the 
 midst, and kneeling before the prince, caught one of his hands, 
 and bowing her face upon it, cried, 
 
 " Oh, my prince, be just and merciful !" 
 
 A thing happened then that was so strange to the men of 
 violence who stood around the prince that they were in amaze- 
 ment. When had he shown pity, or weakly consented to res- 
 titution ? But now, bending with princely grace, he said to the 
 lady, 
 
 "Arise, true wife of a brave and noble baron! Courage 
 and devotion like yours shall have their reward. I restore 
 castle and lands, rank and privileges, and let no man gainsay 
 my word." 
 
 At this the Lady Margaret spoke out in clear tones, repeat- 
 ing the sentence uttered a little while before : 
 
44 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 *' Oh, my prince, love is sweeter than anger, kindness better 
 than cruelty and good deeds nobler than violence !" 
 
 Then the prince turned to her and answered in a subdued 
 voice, 
 
 " It hath been proven to me this day." 
 
 And now all the bold men of his retinue came closer to the 
 prince, and one and another touched the child he still held in 
 his arms, and to all a new life seemed to pass. The stern 
 lines of their faces softened, their eyes had gender meanings 
 in them, and they spoke to each other in a language that was 
 almost as new as a foreign tongue, so full was it of kindness 
 and gentleness. 
 
 We said all the bold men of the prince's retinue, but there 
 was one exception. The favorite to whom the prince had 
 given the castle and lands he now restored was so full of rage 
 and disappointment that he could scarcely restrain himself. 
 Lord Hubert saw the pent-up anger of this man, and knew 
 that he would resist his prince and stir up strife among the 
 people. In the wild freedom of the chase for which they had 
 assembled, all the bad passions now under control might leap 
 into active life and kindle the fires of anger and hate, and 
 when these are once kindled no man knoweth when they will 
 be put out, nor when destruction and sorrow will cease. 
 
 And so Lord Hubert, while yet the child was in their midst, 
 and while the heavenly sphere surrounding her yet penetrated 
 the souls of all and softened and humanized their feelings, 
 spoke out and said : 
 
 " Most honored prince, and you, brave nobles of the land, we 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 45 
 
 have fallen upon something new and strange. Hitherto, in 
 bright swords and strong arms only have we seen the emblems 
 of power. But to-day, in the touch of a little child, we find 
 these to be as nothincr. The anorer of our hearts, which has 
 been used to burn as a consuming fire, dies out at her breath. 
 What does it mean? I think we have in our midst a messen- 
 ger from the great God whose subjects we are, and who holds 
 our lives every moment in his hands. Without him we are 
 nothing. Let us be wise and prudent, and consider this thing. 
 
 " Most honored prince, and you, brave nobles of the land, we 
 are met for a ^rand hunt in the forest— for a wild, fierce revel. 
 Let us do another and a better thing. Let us hold a council 
 to consider the welfare of our people. We are lifted above 
 them, and have power over them for good or for evil. We can 
 be cruel and oppressive, filling the land with violence, or wise 
 and good, covering it with peace. Which is best? which is 
 noblest?" 
 
 ** To cover the land with peace !" spoke out Lady Margaret 
 in the silence that followed. 
 
 Then the prince bowed to her graciously, and thus answered 
 her husband : 
 
 " Let it be as my lords and barons shall say — a hunt or a 
 council." 
 
 And in all that assemblage of bold men whose lives had been 
 spent in acts of violence and wrong not one spoke against a 
 council. 
 
 *'It is well," answered the prince. *' We will hold a council, 
 and for a new thing under the sun. Not to consider how we 
 
46 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 may further oppress and wrong- our people, but how we may 
 help them and do them good — not to decide questions of war 
 and violence, but questions of peace and good-will." 
 
 Then the council met in order in the great hall of the castle, 
 and continued for two days, and for most of the time Gentle 
 Hand sat near the prince, and often, when some noble spoke 
 up fiercely and the prince was moved by sudden anger, the 
 hand of the child would rest softly upon him, and then the evil 
 fire would go out in his eyes and the anger from his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 The doings of this council were memorable in the land. A 
 new and better day dawned upon the people. Courts of justice 
 were established at which the humblest could bring his cause. 
 The poor and the weak were cared for and protected. Roads 
 were cut throuorh dense forests and across mountains, and 
 
 o 
 
 bridges built over impassable streams. Nobles vied with their 
 prince and each other in giving benefits to the people. And 
 they were all so much happier that even the men of violence 
 wondered at and approved the change. 
 
 Gentle Hand went home with the prince to his royal palace. 
 Thus it happened. After the second day of the council had 
 closed, and while the prince, with nobles and retainers, was in 
 the great banqueting-hall of the castle at dinner, two of the 
 nobles, being heated with wine, got into a quarrel and drew 
 their swords upon each other. It was in vain that the prince 
 commanded them to put up their swords. They heeded him 
 not, so fiercely burned their anger against each other. 
 
 '' Where is Gentle Hand ?" he asked of Lady Margaret, who 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 47 
 
 sat by his side. Already he had learned to reverence and trust 
 in her wonderful power to subdue human passions. 
 
 Even as the prince asked for the child, she came swiftly into 
 the banqueting-room, and went bravely up to the two angry 
 men, laying a hand upon each and lifting her bright but soft 
 and steady eyes to their faces. She did not speak a word, but 
 looked at them steadily. Slowly the upraised swords went 
 down, and arms that a moment before thrilled with a giant's 
 strength were weak for evil deeds as a child's. 
 
 Then the prince rose up and said to Lord Hubert, before all 
 the company, 
 
 " A gift so wonderful must be from Heaven, and for the good 
 of all our people." 
 
 Lord Hubert bowed, but did not answer, for he knew what 
 was in the prince's thought. 
 
 " Shall not the blessing lifted to your castle from a wood- 
 man's hut have a still wider sphere of influence, and go forth 
 from our palace to the whole land?" 
 
 Even as the prince said this, Gende Hand came and stood 
 close to his side, and seeing her, he stooped down and lifted 
 her tenderly and reverently in his arms. 
 
 '' I will do no wrong," continued the prince, looking at Lord 
 Hubert and Lady Margaret; "I will not take her without your 
 consent ; but for the good of our people I ask that she may 
 dwell in the palace." 
 
 And all who were present urged warmly the prince's re- 
 quest. 
 
 Very hard was it for Lord Hubert and Lady Margaret to give 
 
48 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 up the wonderful child, but they knew that if she dwelt with the 
 prince in his palace it would be better for all the people, and 
 that which was good for all would be good for each, whether 
 he were noble or peasant. 
 
 And so Gende Hand was taken from Lord Hubert's castle 
 to the palace of the prince. 
 
 Now the princess was a proud and haughty woman, and her 
 life with the prince was not a happy one. Often there was 
 strife between them. When the prince returned bringing 
 Gende Hand with him, he had the child taken into the royal 
 chamber, where his wife sat among her maidens, and placing 
 her in the midst, he said : 
 
 " I have brought you a gift from Heaven, my gracious lady !" 
 
 Then, as the princess looked at the deformed child, with its 
 pinched, unlovely face, she grew hot with anger, for she 
 thought it an insult. But the prince said, with unwonted gen- 
 tleness, as he lifted the child in his arms, 
 
 " I have spoken truly. It is a gift from Heaven." 
 
 And now one and another came round the prince curiously, 
 and looked at the child, but the princess stood at a distance 
 with a frownincr brow. As one of the maidens leaned close to 
 Gende Hand the child touched her. All who were looking 
 saw a quick motion of surprise in her countenance. Then she 
 held out her hand and took the child and drew it toward her 
 with a loving gesture. 
 
 "What mummery is this?" exclaimed the princess, in anger. 
 *' Give me the child !" 
 
 Almost rudely she caught Gende Hand from her maiden's 
 
WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE flAND. 49 
 
 arm. As she did so, all saw the anger die out of her face and 
 a look of wonder spread over it. Then, as if her strength had 
 departed, she sat down, still holding the child, and gazing upon 
 it in mute surprise. 
 
 " What does it mean, my lord ?" she said, looking up at the 
 prince. 
 
 " A good gift from Heaven, sent as a blessing to us and to 
 our people," answered the prince. " Her name is Gentle Hand, 
 and there is more power in her softest touch than in the arm 
 of our bravest knight." 
 
 At this moment the young prince, who had returned with his 
 father, dashed into the chamber in a furious passion, followed 
 by a younger brother, with whom he had already quarreled. 
 
 Quick as thought Gentle Hand slipped from the arms of the 
 princess and was at the side of the young prince. A soft 
 touch of her small hand, and the raging boy stood motionless 
 as a statue, all the dark passion going out of his face. Then 
 he stooped and kissed her with a brother's loving kiss, saying 
 as he did so, 
 
 '' I am glad you are going to live in the palace." 
 
 Such wondering looks as sat upon the faces of the princess 
 and her maidens were never seen before. 
 
 And now a stranger thing happened. As they all stood 
 
 looking at the thin, pinched, weird face of Gentle Hand, its 
 
 straight lines seemed to bend in curves of beauty and the soft 
 
 flesh to take a rounder fullness on lips and cheeks. The great 
 
 humps on her back and breast seemed to grow smaller, and her 
 
 neck and head to lift themselves more gracefully above her 
 4 
 
50 WONDERFUL STORY OF GENTLE HAND. 
 
 shoulders. All signs of homeliness faded out of her counte- 
 nance, and to the charmed eyes that now gazed intently upon 
 her she looked beautiful. 
 
 From this day forth the marvelous change went on. Softer 
 and rounder grew the lines of beauty in her face, and smaller 
 and smaller the unsighdy hump on her shoulders and back, 
 until at last she stood straight and tall, as beautiful in form and 
 features as the loveliest princess in all the land. 
 
 All hearts drew toward her, and as by her heavenly power 
 she ruled all hearts, she became through that power the ruler 
 and dispenser of good to all the people, though they knew it 
 not, nor saw the sign of her power, but gave honor and praise 
 and gratitude to their prince, who governed so justly and with 
 such a wise and generous regard for their welfare. 
 
 As years passed on, and Gende Hand grew toward woman- 
 hood, she grew more and more lovely. 
 
 The fame of her beauty and goodness spread far and near, 
 and princes and nobles came to the palace to ask for her hand. 
 But Eric, the young prince, was deeply in love with her, and to 
 him she gave her heart, and they were married. 
 
 There was never a grander or a happier wedding than the 
 wedding of Gende Hand and the young Prince Eric, and there 
 was never a happier people than the people of that land when, 
 on the death of Eric's father, the prince and Gende Hand came 
 to rule over them. 
 
THE SgUlKRKL HUNT. 
 

THE SQUIRREL HUNT. 
 
 GRAY squirrel was busy one pleasant autumn day 
 in o-atherine nuts and storinor them up for winter in 
 
 ^^# the hollow of an old tree. A farmer was chopping 
 W^f/ wood not far off, and his axe rang loudly through the 
 S8^ forest, but this sound did not trouble our squirrel, for 
 he had heard it often before, and knew that it meant no harm 
 for him. 
 
 But there came other sounds on the air — children's voices 
 and the barking of a dog. At this the squirrel started in 
 alarm. The children saw him and gave a loud shout, and the 
 two dogs that were with them went tearing after the frightened 
 animal, making the woods ring with their fierce yelpings. 
 
 The dogs were so close upon the poor squirrel when he saw 
 them that escape seemed almost impossible. But close by 
 there lay a hollow log, and into this he darted just as one of 
 the does was about seizing^ him. 
 
 '' We've got you now, old fellow !" cried the children as the 
 dogs sprang into the hollow of the tree to seize the squirrel. 
 But Squirrel was not so easily caught. He was smaller than 
 the dogs, and could go in a great deal farther to keep out of 
 
 53 
 
54 THE SQUIRREL HUNT. 
 
 their reach. The dogs barked and yelped and growled, but it 
 was of no use. Squirrel was safe from their teeth. 
 
 And now the farmer came up with his axe, and seeing how 
 it was, said to the children and dogs : 
 
 " Just keep off a minute and I'll get him.'* 
 
 And so he raised his sharp axe and began cutting down into 
 the log. 
 
 What was that which struck him a smart tap on his head ? 
 Only a nut, dropped by Mr. Squirrel from the tree above him 
 where he sat looking down far away from danger. Squirrel 
 had been in that log many a time before, and knew just how to 
 get out of it at the other end. He had whisked through like a 
 flash, and was springing up into the tree at the very moment 
 when the dogs were looking for him in the dark hollow of the 
 log. 
 
 The farmer cut away with his axe, not heeding the nut that 
 fell upon his head, but when he had laid the log open from end 
 to end no squirrel was to be found. 
 
 You are glad Squirrel got away. I can see It, children, in 
 the pity and gladness that beam from your eyes. 
 
NEDDY HARRIS, 
 
 E'VE had a good time, Tony, old fellow ! haven't 
 we?" said Neddy Harris, who was beginning to 
 feel tired with his half day's ramble in the woods 
 and fields. And as he said this he sat down on a 
 ''^^^^ hill-side that overlooked a pleasant valley, and from 
 which he could see the clusters of elms and maples that stood 
 around his home. 
 
 Tony replied to his young master by a short bark and a 
 knowing twist of his waggish little head, which was as near as 
 he could come to saying, ''A first-rate time, Master Neddy!" 
 And then he seated himself also, and took a survey of the 
 country spread out beneath them. He looked very wise and 
 very sharp, as though he had charge of everything, and was on 
 the watch to see that nothing went wrong. What kind of 
 fancies played through his doggish brain I cannot tell, but I 
 think they had something to do with the supper that awaited 
 his arrival home. 
 
 *' A grand good time !" added the boy as his tired limbs felt 
 the comfort of a soft resting-place on the green turf. " And 
 now," he continued, " as father says we should always do, I'll 
 
 55 
 
56 
 
 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 just go back and think over what I've done this holiday- 
 afternoon, and if I forgot myself in anything, and went wrong, 
 it will be best for me to know it, so that I can do better next 
 time." 
 
 So Neddy turned his thought backward, and read out of the 
 book of his memory what had been written down there by an 
 Invisible pen during the past few hours. Now, this book of 
 
 memory is a very wonderful book. Did you ever think of it ? 
 Every instant of time in which we are awake, and often when 
 asleep, an invisible penman is writing in it every one of our 
 thoup-hts and actions, good or bad, and we have no power to 
 
 olot out the writing. 
 
NEDD V II A RRIS. 5 7 
 
 " I'm sorry about that poor squirrel," said Neddy. " He 
 never did me any harm. What a beautiful little creature he 
 was, with his bright black eyes and shiny skin !" 
 
 And the boy's face grew sad, as well it might, for he had 
 pelted this squirrel with stones from tree to tree, and at last 
 knocked him to the ground, when Tony, with one grip of his 
 sharp teeth, made an end of him. 
 
 "I don't blame Tony," said the boy. " He's only a dog, and 
 doesn't know any better. But it was so cruel in me ! Now, 
 if I live a hundred years, I'll never harm another squirrel. 
 God made these frisky little fellows, and they've just as much 
 rioht to live as I have." 
 
 Neddy felt better about the squirrel after this good reso- 
 lution, which he meant to keep. 
 
 "That was curious about the spider," he went on, trying to 
 push all thoughts of the dead squirrel from his mind. Let me 
 tell you about this spider. In the corner of a fence Neddy saw 
 a large circular spider's web, shaped like a funnel, down in the 
 centre of which was a hole. As he stood looking at the deli- 
 cate thing, finer than any woven silk, a fly struck against it and 
 got his feet tangled, so that he could not escape. Instantly a 
 great black spider ran out of the hole at the bottom of the 
 web, and seizing the poor fly, dragged him out of sight and 
 made his dinner off him. 
 
 "Try what you can do with this, you old black land-pirate !" 
 exclaimed Neddy, who pitied the fly, although he had just 
 helped his dog Tony to kill a harmless squirrel, and all for 
 sport. But, as we have seen, he was sorry for that cruel act, 
 
58 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 and we only mention it here to show how quick we are tc 
 blame others and forget our own wrong-doings. As Neddy 
 spoke, he dropped a piece of dry bark about the size of his 
 thumb nail into the web, and it slipped down and covered the 
 hole through which the spider had to come for his prey. In- 
 stantly the piece of bark was pushed up by the spider, who 
 came out of his den and ran around on the slender cords of 
 his web in a troubled kind of way. Then he tried to get back 
 into his hidden chamber, but the piece of bark covered the 
 entrance like a shut door. And now Mr. Spider was in a 
 terrible flurry. He ran wildly up one side of his web and 
 down another ; then he tugged at the piece of bark, trying to 
 drag it out, but its rough edges took hold of the fine silken 
 threads and tore them. 
 
 " You'll catch no more flies in that web, old chap !" said 
 Neddy as he stood watching the spider. 
 
 But Neddy was mistaken. Spider did not belong to the 
 give-up class. If the thing could not be done in one way, it 
 might in another. He did not reason about things like human 
 beings, but then he had instinct, as it is called, and that teaches 
 animals how to get their food, how to build their houses or 
 make their nests, and how to meet the dangers and difficulties 
 that overtake them in life. After sitting still for a little while, 
 spider went to work again, and this time in a surprising way. 
 He cut a circle close around the piece of bark as neatly as you 
 could have done it with a pair of sharp scissors, and, lo ! it 
 dropped to the ground, leaving a hole in the web about the size 
 of a ten-cent piece. 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 59 
 
 ''Rather hard on the web, Mr. Land-pirate !" said Neddy, 
 laughing. " FUes can go through there as well as chips." 
 When he called the spider a land-pirate, Neddy was wrong. 
 He was no more a pirate — that is, one who robs and murders 
 — than is the woodpecker and swallow, for they feed on worms 
 and insects. The spider was just as blameless in his work of 
 catching and eating flies as was Neddy's white bantam when 
 she went off into the fields after grasshoppers. 
 
 But Neddy's laugh at the spider was soon cut short. The 
 most difficult part of his work was done when he got rid of 
 the piece of bark. As soon as that was out of his way, he 
 began moving backward and forward over the hole he had 
 cut in the web, just as if he were a weaver's shuttle, and in 
 about ten minutes it was covered with gauzy lacework finer 
 than ever was worn by a queen. 
 
 "I'll give it up, old fellow!" exclaimed Neddy, taking a long 
 breath as he saw the work completed. " This just beats me 
 out !" Spider crept down into his den again to wait for an- 
 other fly, and Neddy, whistling to Tony, went on his way 
 pleased and wondering. 
 
 " I'm glad I didn't take the eggs out of that hanging bird's- 
 nest," Neddy said to himself as he sat thinking over what he 
 had done during his afternoon's holiday. " I wanted to so 
 badly, but then I thought of the dear little birds that would be 
 hatched if I left them in the nest. An ^g^ is a pretty thing, 
 but what is an eesf to a bird? all alive and so beautiful ! And 
 I'm glad I put up Farmer Glenn's bars that somebody left 
 down. He mio-ht have had ever so much trouble about his 
 
6o NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 cattle. I wasn't going to do It at first, for I said, ' It's none of 
 my business.' But then I remembered hearing father say once 
 that it was everybody's business to be kind and thoughtful of 
 their neighbors, and to see that no harm came to them that we 
 could help. And father's always right about these things." 
 
 So Neddy talked on with himself, until he had gone over all 
 he had done durine his afternoon in the woods and fields. For 
 the stone he threw at a frog he was sorry. " It didn't hit him, 
 and I'm glad of that," he said, by way of comfort. For the 
 pail of water he drew from the well for a poor old woman who 
 looked too weak to turn the wheel, and for the lamb he had 
 taken back to the field from which it had strayed, he felt well 
 satisfied with himself 
 
 " It's the good we do that makes us happy, father says, and 
 the wrong we do that makes us unhappy. And now I under- 
 stand just what he means. If it had not been tor killing that 
 dear little squirrel I'd go home feeling all right, but that wor- 
 ries me. Now, Tony !" And he sprang from the ground, and 
 ran swiftly down the hill, as if trying to flee away from all 
 thoughts of the dead squirrel. 
 
 Neddy Harris was one of your well-meaning boys who 
 wished to do right, and if he found himself wrong, he was 
 sorry for it, and tried to do better next time. 
 
 Play is a help, not a hindrance, to study. But then play and 
 study must each have its own time. The trouble with some 
 boys is that they wish to play in study hours. 
 
 Neddy Harris was as fond of play as any one, and when he 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 6 1 
 
 did play, it was in earnest. He took his full measure of enjoy- 
 ment. And he was able to do this because his mind was free 
 from all thought about lessons. He never dropped his ball in 
 the midst of his play, as I have seen some boys do, and ex- 
 claim, 
 
 *' Oh dear! I haven't got one word of my lessons yet, and I 
 shall be kept in again to-morrow if I miss a line," and then 
 scamper off home to the drudgery instead of the pleasure of 
 study. 
 
 " You don't call study a pleasure !" I hear a little reader say, 
 in a tone of surprise. 
 
 Why not? Isn't eating a pleasure? 
 
 '' Eating !" You look amazed, my little friend, as if I were 
 half in jest. But I am not. 
 
 "What has eating to do with studying?" you ask, looking 
 serious, because you see that I am in earnest. Did you never 
 hear of food for the mind ? 
 
 " Oh yes," you say, in ready answer. 
 
 Well, what is food for the mind? Now you look just a trifle 
 puzzled. But it's all as plain as day, if you will think for a 
 moment. There's your little sister. A year ago she could 
 just stand alone ; now she runs about and goes up and down 
 stairs almost as easily as you can. How does it happen that 
 she has grown larger and stronger ? All is easily explained. 
 She has had food to eat, and this food has been turned into 
 blood and flesh and bone, making her bigger and stronger day 
 by day. 
 
 But something else has happened, and I want to hear your 
 
62 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 explanation of that. A year ago her mind was so feeble that 
 she only understood the meaning of a few words ; now she 
 talks quite plainly, and thinks as well as talks. In fact, her 
 mind has grown as well as her body. Now, what made her 
 mind grow? Not the food that went into her mouth. That 
 couldn't have done it. Dogs and cats eat, but their minds 
 don't grow. They never become wise like men and women. 
 Her mind grew from what she learned. That is the explana- 
 tion. The knowledge of things was her mental food, and to 
 know or learn was to eat this mental food. And I think you 
 will say that she often took as much delight in eating the food 
 that made her mind grow as she did in eating the food that 
 made her body grow. Don't you remember how eagerly she 
 listened when you told her about the birds building nests and 
 laying litde speckled eggs in them, out of which came dear 
 litde birds not so big as young chickens ? You were feeding 
 her mind then, and she enjoyed the taste of the food you gave 
 her as much as she ever enjoyed her bread and milk. 
 
 'T never thought of that!" you say, a pleasant light falling 
 over your face. 
 
 There are a great many interesting things passing in us and 
 around us all the while of which we can know nothing unless 
 we stop to think. Let me ask you another question. Have 
 you never felt as much pleasure in reading about the wonder 
 ful things of nature as your little sister felt when you told her 
 of the birds, their eggs and their litde ones ? 
 
 "Oh yes," you say; "hundreds of times." 
 
 A book is your delight. Why? Because it gives food to 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 63 
 
 your mind, and for no odier reason. But study ! Ah, it is the 
 task- work that you don't like. No one's fault but your own, 
 I'm thinking, that study has become task-work. You might 
 make it a pleasure, if you would. 
 
 But In my desire to help you to see that there ought to be 
 as much pleasure in learning as in eating, I have kept my 
 young friend, Neddy Harris, out of sight, and I must now go 
 back to him again. As I have told you before, he liked play 
 as well as study, and there was not a boy in his class who 
 enjoyed a game at ball or cricket, or a half-day's ramble in the 
 woods, better than he. He let his heart, as we say, go Into 
 whatever he did, and that is the true secret of success or 
 enjoyment. 
 
64 NEDD Y HARRIS. 
 
 Neddy had finished all his lessons for the next day, except 
 the one on Physiology. He was studying that, and really en- 
 joying the information it gave him about the way In which the 
 blood enters the heart on the right side, and passes from one 
 chamber to another by valves that open and shut, going into 
 the lungs and again back Into the heart, and then by heart- 
 throbs sent leaping In pulsations all over the body, when the 
 door of his room was thrown open, and Harry Brown, a class- 
 mate, cried out, 
 
 " Come, Neddy ! we're going to have a game of base ball 
 over in Mr. Bloomer's field. Hurry! The boys are making 
 It up now." 
 
 " I can't until I've got my Physiology lesson," Neddy an- 
 swered, speaking firmly. 
 
 " Faugh ! Let Physiology go to the dogs !" answered Harry 
 Brown. '' I haven't got mine yet, nor my Latin lesson, either, 
 as to that; so come along." 
 
 "Study first and play afterward," answered Neddy. "That's 
 my rule, and It's never good to break rules, father says. It's 
 always sure to get us into trouble." 
 
 "You can get this lesson just as well in the evening," urged 
 Harry. 
 
 "No, I can't. To-night's our reading-night. Father reads 
 aloud three evenings in the week, and I wouldn't miss the part 
 of the book we're orolncr to have to-night for half a dozen 
 games of base ball, much as I like to play." 
 
 "Oh, well! Stick to your lesson, then! A fellow can't turn 
 you any more than he can turn the wind," said Harry, rather 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 65 
 
 impatiently. "I'll have my fun, at any rate, and you can dig 
 and delve at your Physiology till doomsday if you like. I hope 
 you may have a good time over it." 
 
 And bounding out of the room, Harry Brown ran off to join 
 his playmates in a game of ball. 
 
 When deeply interested in anything, we scarcely think of 
 time. The minutes glide by unnoticed. It was nearly an hour 
 after his schoolmate left when Neddy's father opened the door 
 of the library and found him sitting over his book. The lesson 
 was just finished, and Neddy lifted a face that beamed with 
 satisfaction. It had been no mere task-work with him, this 
 hour's study, but a season of refreshment for his mind. He 
 had learned something about his own body that filled him with 
 wonder and delight. Now, when he laid his hand over his 
 heart and felt its steady throb, he understood something of 
 what was oroine on in the hidden chambers of life. 
 
 " I am going to drive over to Milford this afternoon, my son," 
 said Mr. Harris. 'Tf you have all your lessons, I shall be glad 
 of your company." 
 
 ''I'm just through," answered Neddy, shutting his book, 
 ''and I should like to go over to Milford above all things. Will 
 you stay there long enough for me to see the glass-works?" 
 
 'T shall be there at least an hour." 
 
 "I'm so glad! Yes, thank you, I'll go along." And Neddy 
 ran up to his room to make a few needed changes in his dress. 
 
 I am very sure that Harry Brown did not enjoy his game at 
 base ball half so much as Neddy enjoyed his hour among the 
 glass-blowers, for Neddy's mind was not burdened with the 
 
66 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 thouo-ht of unlearned lessons, but free to enter with delight into 
 whatever was new, strange and interesting. How different all 
 would have been if, yielding to Harry, he had broken his rule 
 of " study first and play afterward " ! The game would not have 
 been half enjoyed for thinking of the lesson yet to be learned, 
 and the lesson learned in the evening wouldn't have been half 
 enjoyed, because while studying it his father would be reading 
 the pleasant book he could not hear. And to make all worse 
 would be the thought that he had been a weak and foolish 
 
 boy. 
 
 On the next day all of his lessons were said perfectly, but 
 Harry Brown had learned his so badly that he was kept in 
 during the half-hour's recess. 
 
 Sadly poor Harry gazed from the schoolhouse window as 
 the boys played on the green. Neddy was with them, one of 
 the happiest of the number. There was not the smallest bur- 
 den on his free spirit. Study-hours had been .spent in study, 
 and now he ran and jumped and shouted with the rest, no 
 shadow of care or regret dropping down from a passing cloud 
 of thought to dim his enjoyment. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Mr. Harris of Neddy, 
 who came out of the house with a basket on his arm one 
 Saturday morning. There was no school on that day. 
 
 ''To pick up scraps of iron and nails down by the old mill," 
 replied Neddy. 
 
 "What are you going to do with scraps of iron and nails?" 
 said Mr. Harris. * 
 
NEDDY HARRIS, 6/ 
 
 "Sell them. They're worth two cents a pound." 
 
 "Ah, indeed. But what put that idea into your head, my 
 son?" 
 
 " I'm saving up money to buy a line and reel. Will Martin 
 told me that he picked up enough old iron in a few weeks to 
 sell for three dollars. So I'm going to try what I can do. I 
 found two old horseshoes and an iron bolt yesterday that 
 weigh nearly two pounds. I look closely at the ground as I 
 walk along, and I don't let even an old nail escape me." 
 
 A smile lit up the face of Mr. Harris for a moment, and 
 then he looked grave. 
 
 " And so," he said, " for the sake of a few old nails and 
 horseshoes, you turn your eyes away from the pleasant trees 
 and fields, from the river and the sky, from all the beauty of 
 nature. You do not read a single sentence in the great book 
 about which we have talked, giving up all for a penny's worth 
 of old iron." 
 
 " Oh, father !" exclaimed Neddy as he let the basket drop 
 from his hand, " you have such a way of putting things, as 
 our teacher says ! I thought it was all right, and that when you 
 knew about it you would be pleased. I'm sure it's better to 
 pick up old bits of iron and have them worked over again 
 than to let them lie useless on the roadside." 
 
 "Of course it is, provided always that the person doing this 
 little bit of useful work does not neglect something of more 
 importance. If one can be better employed than in gathering 
 up old iron, then it is waste time to engage in this sort of 
 business." 
 
6S 
 
 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 Neddy's eyes fell to die ground. He saw diat his fadier was 
 right, and yet all was not clear to him. 
 
 •' I might be better employed in reading than in searching 
 
 about at the old mill for scraps of iron," he said, '' but then it's 
 a holiday, and you think it best for me to be out of doors as 
 much as possible. If I can get exercise and old iron at the 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 69 
 
 same time, what's the harm ? I want money to buy a Hne and 
 reel, and I don't see any other way to get it." 
 
 "So we have it all in a nutshell, as they say," remarked Mr. 
 Harris. "And now let us examine it carefully. We should 
 always try, in earning money, to give the best service of which 
 we are capable. Any of the poor little boys and girls whose 
 parents live in the shanties across the meadows can pick up old 
 iron and nails as well as you, but there is not one of them 
 able to render the higher service in your power to give. They 
 could not add up a column of figures, nor make out a bill, nor 
 teach a child to write and cipher. Mr. Josslyn the storekeeper 
 would not trust one of them to ride over to Milford to buy 
 things for him, or to pay or collect a bill. Yet you could do 
 any of these things." 
 
 " Oh, father," said Neddy, growing excited, " do you think 
 that Mr. Josslyn would like to have me go over to Milford for 
 him?" 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder. His young man is sick, and I've no 
 doubt he would be glad of a little help of some kind, for 
 Saturday is usually a busy day with him. And I'm sure that 
 two or three hours spent in helping Mr. Josslyn, if you wish to 
 employ a part of the time in earning a little money, would be 
 a great deal better than picking up old iron, and give you a 
 large return of pennies, as well as satisfaction of mind." 
 
 " I'll run right over and see Mr. Josslyn," said Neddy. 
 
 " What will you say to him ?" asked his father. 
 
 " Oh, let me see." And Neddy thought for a few moments. 
 "Why, I'll just say it as it is : ' Mr. Josslyn, I want to earn some 
 
70 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 money to buy a line and reel, and if you want any help, I'll 
 come and work for you part of the day.' " 
 
 " Yes, I think that will do. It's the simple truth," replied his 
 father. 
 
 And so it happened that Mr. Josslyn wanted some one that 
 he could trust to ride over to Milford and transact several items 
 of business. Two persons living there owed him small bills 
 which they had promised to settle on this very day ; besides, he 
 wanted to order some glass and several other things that could 
 be had at Milford. 
 
 He knew Neddy very well, and was just as glad to get the 
 service offered as Neddy was to render it. 
 
 It took our young friend just three hours to ride over to Mil- 
 ford and back. He did not look down all the way for old nails 
 and horseshoes, but enjoyed the sight of woods and fields and 
 sparkling w^ater, the songs and sportings of birds, and, best 
 of all, his own thoughts about what he saw. 
 
 ''Thank you, my litde man," said the storekeeper, when 
 Neddy returned with the money he had collected. "You have 
 done me a real service." And he paid him a dollar and a 
 half. 
 
 "Oh, that's too much," exclaimed Neddy as he looked at the 
 money. 
 
 "If you are satisfied, I am," said Mr. Josslyn. "And what is 
 more, I will be glad to see you on next Saturday." 
 
 '' Better than old iron," said Neddy as he showed the money 
 to his father. 
 
 " And there's something better still," remarked Mr. Harris. 
 
YOUNG SOLDIER. 
 
 See pa [^e 141 
 
5 «jO 
 
 1 i? - 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. J^ 
 
 ** What?" Neddy looked up at his father. 
 
 " You are wiser as well as richer." 
 
 *' Wiser? How?" 
 
 " You have learned some things about the difference in work — 
 how some kinds are more useful than others." 
 
 *' Oh yes. Picking up old iron may be well enough for boys 
 that live in the shanties across the meadow, but it would be 
 wasting time for me. I can do better and higher kinds of 
 work." 
 
 '' Better and higher because it is more useful," said Mr. Har- 
 ris. *'In the mere work of gathering up lost or cast away 
 things no one is helped. There is no double good. A few 
 pennies or dollars are earned by the person who does this 
 work, but the work itself helps no one. How different when 
 we help another in what we do, as in your case to-day! You 
 may, if you will, have as much pleasure in thinking of the 
 service rendered Mr. Josslyn as of the money you earned." 
 
 On the next Saturday the storekeeper was very glad to see 
 Neddy again, who helped him for a few hours, and received a 
 dollar for his service. He had money enough now to buy the 
 line and reel he had set his heart on, and the following Satur- 
 day started off alone for a day in the woods among the trout 
 streams. 
 
 He came home several hours before his father expected to 
 see him, without rod or reel, or the basket of speckled trout he 
 had promised. 
 
 "What's the matter, my son?" asked Mr. Harris. ''Where's 
 your fishing-tackle? and what brought you home so early?" 
 
74 NEDD V HARRIS. 
 
 'Til just tell you all about it," said Neddy. "The fact iS; 
 I've changed my mind about fishing." 
 
 " Have you, indeed? Why, how did this come about?" 
 
 '' I'm going to tell you. I felt as light and happy as a bird 
 when I started off this morning. At first I thought of Ellis 
 River, but afterward changed my mind and went to Mountain 
 Brook. It was a good hour's walk. How lovely the water 
 seemed ! So clear and still in the quiet places ; so bright and 
 sparkling when it rushed between or leaped over rocks. All 
 was beautiful, and I felt so happy. I looked down into the 
 water, and remembered your saying that it was like truth to 
 the mind, satisfying thirst and cleansing from impurity. I saw 
 the little minnows gliding about ; the white pebbles at the bot- 
 tom ; the tiny caverns and the smooth sandy places. A bird 
 came down to drink close by where I stood, dipped its bill into 
 the water a few times, and then with a chirrup flew off among 
 the trees. For a litde while I forgot what I had come for. 
 Then I unwound my reel, fixed my line, and made ready for 
 the sport I had so long promised myself. 
 
 " The very first time my fly touched the water there was a 
 leap at one of the hooks, and then a fish struggled at the line. 
 I can't tell you just how I felt, it came so suddenly. But before 
 I could land him he broke away. For more than half an hour 
 after that I threw my line, sometimes going up stream and 
 sometimes down, but without a bite. At last, as I dropped my 
 hooks lightly over a rapid piece of water, a small trout caught 
 at one of them and fastened himself. I drew him easily to the 
 shore, and as I removed the hook from his mouth the blood 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 75 
 
 ran over my hand. I could not help a shiver as I saw it. And 
 yet I've fished a great many times. 
 
 " Poor little trout ! He trembled and struggled in my hand, 
 and gasped for the water that to him was like air. He was 
 slender and beautifijlly speckled, and as I looked at him, pity 
 came into my heart. So I just put him back into the water and 
 let him go. I couldn't help it, father. Oh, I was so glad when 
 I saw him dart away !" 
 
 Neddy paused, and looked up into his father's face. 
 
 ''And what then?" asked Mr. Harris. 
 
 " I sat down to think," replied Neddy. '' Or, I might better 
 say, the thoughts that came into my mind made me sit down." 
 
 "What kind of thoughts were they?" 
 
 "A new kind of thoughts to me, but they were right 
 thoughts: I'm pretty sure of that. It seemed as if somebody 
 were talking inside of me. The first thought was a question, 
 and came in these very words: 'Is it right to take pleasure in 
 giving pain?' Then this question followed : 'Has God given 
 us so few things to enjoy that we must kill the fish and shoot 
 the birds for sport ?' ' But we eat the fish,' I answered to 
 myself. 'Were you so hungry that you had to come out here 
 to get food ?' was asked. What could I say to that but ' No' ? 
 I had only come for pleasure, and I was to find that in torturing 
 and killing the happy trout sporting and feeding in the pure 
 water where God had placed them. Turn it over in my mind 
 as I would, I was not able to see it any differently. If I had 
 been hungry and in need of food, or if I had been poor and 
 obliged to fish for a living, it would have been another case. 
 
'Jti NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 But to kill for sport is certainly not godlike and angel-like, as 
 I've heard you say. 
 
 "So you see, father, I'm cured of my fishing mania, as you 
 called it the other day. If I were to tell the boys at school, 
 they'd laugh at me, but I can't help that." 
 
 "There is no need of your talking about it," said Mr. 
 Harris. 
 
 "But if I am right, father, why shouldn't I talk about it?" 
 
 "Very true, my son." 
 
 "There is nothing in it to be ashamed of," added Neddy. 
 "Boys talk about their robbing birds' nests, throwing stones at 
 frogs, geese and pigs, and doing other mean and cowardly 
 things, and because the older boys brag over their cruel acts, 
 the smaller ones follow their example. Laughing doesn't hurt 
 anybody. I guess I can stand a litde of it. If I don't say 
 what I think about a thing, as to whether it is right or wrong, 
 what use are my thoughts to any but myself? And you say 
 that nobody in this world has a right to live for himself 
 alone." 
 
 "Spoken like a brave boy, as you are, Neddy!" said Mr. 
 Harris, with so pleased a tone in his voice that it made the lad's 
 heart glow. " As to the sport of fishing, you will find plenty 
 to differ with you, and among them good and true men. But 
 be sure of this, my son, that every voice which, speaking to 
 your inward ear, warns you against cruelty to any living thing, 
 is the voice of an angel, and that if you hearken obediendy 
 to that voice, you will come under purer influences, and be 
 better able to meet the temptations that assail every one in the 
 
NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 / / 
 
 journey of life. At your age I was very fond of gunning and 
 fishing, and I have often spent days in the wood with either 
 my rod or fowHng piece. But once — I had grown to be fifteen 
 years old — I shot a blue jay, breaking its wing. It fell from the 
 tree where, but an instant before, it had been so happy in its 
 innocent bird-life, and fluttered in pain on the ground only a 
 few yards from where I stood. As I picked it up, and saw the 
 bleedine and broken wino^, and felt the blood on my hand, a 
 thrill of pity for the poor suffering bird ran through my heart. 
 Could a load of buckshot, shattering my shoulders to pieces, 
 put me in greater agony than I had caused this harmless jay? 
 Shame reddened my cheeks. 
 
 "Poor bird! I put him out of his misery, and went home, 
 feeling very sober. From that day, my son, 1 have never killed 
 a bird nor caught a fish. When I needed recreation or pleasure, 
 I found plenty of ways open to me quite as satisfactory and 
 health-giving as shooting and fishing, and so will you. But 
 you have not said what became of your rod and line." 
 
 " I sold them," replied Neddy. " Wasn't it curious ? As I 
 came out of the woods over by Mr. Reed's, a man met me, 
 and said, 
 
 '"That's a nice outfit, my lad. What'll you take for it?' 
 
 " ' Three dollars,' I answered, without stopping to think. 
 
 " ' It's a bargain,' said he, taking out his pocket-book, and 
 handing over three dollars. 
 
 " ' You are perfectly satisfied ?' he added. 
 
 '"Oh yes, perfectly,' I replied, 'for I don't mean to fish any 
 more.' 
 
7^ 
 
 NEDDY HARRIS. 
 
 '"Why not?' he asked. 
 
 "'Because,' said I, 'the sport is too cruel for me.' 
 
 " If you could have seen how he opened his eyes, showing 
 the whites all around them, and could have heard the long, low 
 whistle he gave, you would have laughed, as I did. 
 
 "'Good for you!' he said, patting me on the shoulder, and 
 then he went his way and I went mine." 
 
 ii-»^ 
 
^1/5^ Stooped over the cradle 
 J^^ and kissed her baby brother, 
 'Jlp " and I do love him so 
 What makes him so sweet ?" 
 
 ''His purity and innocence. There is nothing in all this 
 world so pure and innocent as a baby," answered Nelly's 
 mother. 
 
 " Wasn't God very good to let us have him ?" asked the child. 
 
 79 
 
8o ONE OF BABY'S TEACHERS. 
 
 " Oh yes, and how thankful we should be !" 
 
 "I am thankful, mamma. Last night, when I was saying my 
 prayers, I said ' Thank you. Lord, for baby,' and I said it again 
 this morning. Do you think he heard me ?" 
 
 " Yes, for he is everywhere, and hears and sees everything." 
 
 ''Then he knows how much I love baby?" 
 
 '' Yes ; he knows all our thoughts and feelings." 
 
 " All of our bad thoughts as well as our good ones ?" 
 , "Yes, dear. He knows us better than we know ourselves." 
 
 " I don't have any bad thoughts when I'm with baby," said 
 Nelly. "And if I feel naughty, it's all gone w^hen he comes in. 
 Oh, he's so sweet! sweet! sweet!" And she bent over the 
 cradle again, almost smothering the baby with kisses. 
 
 "And he's so good and pure," added the mother. "Now, 
 shall I tell you how we can best show our thankfulness to God 
 for sending us the baby?" 
 
 Nelly looked up earnestly, and waited to hear. 
 
 "We must do all we can to keep him sweet, and pure, and 
 good. We must be kind and gentle in all our ways with him. 
 And as he grows older, we must be careful what we say or do, 
 for we will be his teachers. What he hears us say, he will say, 
 and what he sees us do, he will do. Just think, darling, of his 
 getting angry at the table, as you did this morning, and throw- 
 ing his piece of bread on the floor." 
 
 " Don't talk about that, mamma," said Nelly, her face getting 
 sober and tears coming into her eyes. 
 
 " It is not to make you feel badly, dear, that I speak of it," 
 answered Nellv's mother. "But as you are one of . baby's 
 
ONE OF BABY'S TEACHERS. 51 
 
 teachers, I must put you on your guard. How did he learn to 
 kiss his hand ?" 
 
 " I kissed my hand to him ever so many times, and at last he 
 could do it. And I taught him to squint up his eyes in such a 
 funny way. See !" Nelly shut her eyes, and the baby, laugh- 
 ing and crowinof, did the same. 
 
 '' See, Nelly dear, how fast he is beginning to learn from you. 
 You have taught him to kiss his hand and squint up his eyes, 
 and do ever so many cunning little things, but don't, if you 
 love him and want the good Lord who sent him to us that 
 we might help him to live a good life in this world, and become 
 an ano-el in heaven, to leave him to our care, teach him by 
 word, or look, or example, anything that is wrong. If he hears 
 you speak angrily, or sees you do naughty things, he will do 
 the same, for the litde ones have everything to learn, and do 
 just what they see us do. And so, darling, if baby does not 
 keep his sweetness and innocence while a baby, it will be our 
 fault." 
 
 ''I wish I could always be good," said Nelly, ''but I'm afraid 
 there is something bad in me." And a shadow came over her 
 little face. 
 
 " There is something bad in us all," Nelly's modier replied. 
 " But the Lord knows about it a great deal better than we do, 
 and he is always trying to help us to do good. Now, one of 
 the ways in which he helps us is to lead us to help others. If 
 we see that the bad in us hurts others as well as ourselves — as 
 the bad in you, if you let it come out, would hurt baby — then 
 if we will try to conquer this bad; and, while trying, ask the 
 
82 ONE OF BABY'S TEACHERS. 
 
 Lord to help us, he will do so, and put good into our hearts in 
 place of the bad." 
 
 "Oh, mother, will he?" A light like sunshine fell over 
 Nelly's face. 
 
 '' He will, darling." 
 
 " I'm so glad !" She spoke the words half to herself Then 
 taking baby's hand, softer than any velvet, she laid it against 
 her cheek, and murmured, " I'll try to be good for your sake, 
 sweetest !" 
 
 After that no mother could have asked for a better child 
 than Nelly. " I am one of baby's teachers," she would often 
 say to herself, when tempted to do wrong, and then, for baby's 
 sake, she would resist the wrong, often asking God to help her. 
 And he did help her, as he helps every one who, earnesdy try- 
 ing to do right, prays to him for strength, for he wants us to 
 be good that we may be happy and live with him for ever in 
 heaven, and so, the moment we try to do right, he, the All- 
 powerful, comes quickly to our aid. 
 
EASTER EGGS. 
 
 ^^M_ ISTER GRACE !" 
 
 :> -^l^^^ "What do you want?" Sister Grace did not lift 
 
 f^ffe^ her eyes from the gay embroidery over which her 
 
 i^^ finorers were swiftlv moving. 
 
 fe "To-morrow's Easter." 
 
 " Can't you tell me something I don't know ?" was the reply — 
 not unkindly spoken, but without any interest in the sister's 
 voice. 
 
 " Look at me, Grace, won't you ?" 
 
 " There ! I'm looking at you." And Grace Bond dropped her 
 hands in her lap with a slightly annoyed gesture and fixed her 
 eyes on the child's face. 
 
 " To-morrow's Easter." 
 
 " I've heard that before. Anything else .^" 
 
 "Yes: I want you to dye me some eggs." 
 
 " Dye you some eggs !" 
 
 "Yes. All the little girls are going to have them. Jennie 
 May and Lucy White told me about the beauties they had last 
 year, and what lovely ones their mother was going to dye for 
 them to-day." 
 
 .§3 
 
84 
 
 EASTER EGGS. 
 
 " I must bee to be excused, Fannie," said Grace, coldly. 
 
 The light and eagerness went out of the child's face, and her 
 eyes grew wet with tears. 
 
 '* Don't be silly !" Grace spoke a little harshly. " What does 
 a big girl like you want with Easter eggs ?" 
 
 '' I'm no bigger than Jennie May or Lucy White, and they're 
 going to have them," replied Fannie. 
 
 nil ii Mill/ ^ ,,> 
 
 " I can't help it if they are." Grace spoke with some petu- 
 lance in her voice. "I haven't any time for such nonsense." 
 
 Now, Fannie had set her heart on the Easter eggs, and her 
 disappointment was so great at her sister's refusal that she 
 could not control her feelings, but burst out crying, at which 
 Grace, being much annoyed, scolded her sharply. This did not 
 help the matter any. Grief gave way to anger, and Fannie 
 
EASTER EGGS. 85 
 
 talked back to Grace in a very unsisterly way. Both of them 
 were made unhappy. 
 
 Thinking to find employment for Fannie, and so divert her 
 thoughts, Grace handed her a piece of worsted work and said, 
 
 "Put this flower in for me, won't you? You did the last 
 one nicely." 
 
 '* No, I won't !" Yes, these were her very words. " If you 
 can't dye me the eggs, I'll not work your flowers." 
 
 " Oh," said Grace, " if you're going to keep such bad com- 
 pany, I can't stay." And she went from the room, leaving Fan- 
 nie alone. 
 
 For a good while Fannie sat crying from anger and disap- 
 pointment. Then, as she grew calm, the thought of what her 
 sister said as she went out, " If you're going to keep such bad 
 company," came into her mind. She knew very well to what 
 company her sister referred. Anger, ill-nature, fretfulness, 
 were her companions now, and they were making her wretched. 
 
 Gradually, as she sat alone thinking, a change came over her 
 feelings. '' I'm sorry I talked so to Grace," she said, " even if 
 she wouldn't dye me the Easter eggs. Oh dear!" — and she 
 drew a long sigh — " some litde girls have kind sisters that do 
 everything for them, but Grace thinks it a trouble to do even 
 the littlest thing for me." 
 
 Even as Fannie said this she remembered the beautiful party- 
 dress that Grace made for her only the week before, and how 
 she sat up late at night so as to be sure to have it ready. And 
 then she thought of a dozen kind and self-denying acts of her 
 sister, all done for crood. 
 
S6 EASTER EGGS. 
 
 " I'm sorry," she spoke aloud. The bad company in which 
 Grace left her had gone, and in dieir place were repentance, 
 kindness, love. 
 
 She took up the strip of worsted that Grace had placed in 
 her lap, and unrolling it, commenced working in the flower, and 
 was soon so interested in what she was doing that she scarcely 
 noticed the passage of time. 
 
 Grace did not feel very happy when she went from the room 
 leaving Fannie alone. She had not regarded her litde sister 
 with the kindness and consideration that were her due. The 
 Easter eggs were a thing of no account to her, but to the child 
 who had set her heart on them they were a great deal. 
 
 Now, it happened that next door to the pleasant home in 
 which Grace Bond lived was a poor German family — a man and 
 his wife and two children. The woman had been sick, and 
 Grace had gone in two or three times during the week to see 
 her. It was an hour, perhaps, after leaving Fannie alone, that 
 the thought of this woman came into her mind. 
 
 'T'll go and see how she is," said Grace, and putting some- 
 thing over her head, she went to the next door and knocked. 
 
 *' Come in !" cried a pleasant voice, and Grace pushed open 
 the door. 
 
 What a surprise ! The group that met her gaze was a pic- 
 ture in itself, and very pleasant to look upon — a picture with a 
 lesson that went down into her heart. 
 
 Sittino- on a low chair was the German mother. On the 
 floor was a white napkin, over w^hich gayly-colored Easter 
 eggs had been spread to cool, and she was now lifting these, 
 
EASTER EGGS. 87 
 
 one by one, into a dish on her lap. In front of her were the 
 two children, a boy and a girl, looking so pleased and happy 
 that the very sight of their faces made the heart of Grace grow 
 warmer. 
 
 " Easter eggs ?" she said, with a smile, as she came forward 
 into the room. 
 
 " Yes ; they please Ludwig and Bertha," was the woman's 
 answer. '' And I make them happy when I can." 
 
 How lovingly the children looked up into her worn and 
 patient face ! 
 
 A thought of her unhappy sister now flashed through the 
 mind of Grace, and there came to her the image of the child 
 sitting alone and in tears — a painful contrast to the scene be- 
 fore her. Self-rebuke and self-condemnation followed quickly. 
 
 '' Oh, these are beautiful !" she said, stooping to the floor 
 and taking up one of the eggs. " How charmingly you have 
 painted them !" 
 
 "Won't you take some for your little sister? Bertha and 
 Ludwicr will be dad to share them, I know." And the mother 
 looked to her children for approval. 
 
 " She shall have two of mine," said Bertha, quickly. '' And 
 two of mine," cried Ludwig. 
 
 " Oh no ; I can't rob you after that fashion," answered Grace. 
 "But if you will let me have four of these beauties — they are 
 beauties — I will send you in a dozen not dyed. Fannie will be 
 so pleased to get them." 
 
 " Take them all," said the woman. " I will dye more for the 
 children." 
 
88 EASTER EGGS. 
 
 But Grace said, " No ; four will be enough for Fannie." 
 
 On returning home, Grace hurried to the room where, an 
 hour before, she had left her little sister angry and in tears. 
 Her heart had a troubled beat as she pushed open the door 
 and went in. All was silent. By the table, with her face 
 buried in her arms, sat Fannie fast asleep. The strip of wor- 
 sted work, with the tiower completed, lay on the floor, as if it 
 had just dropped from her hand. 
 
 " Fannie dear !" Grace spoke in a tender, loving voice. 
 The child moved but did not answer, for sleep lay heavy on 
 her senses. 
 
 " Fannie !" 
 
 " Oh yes ! What is it ?" answered the child, dreamily. 
 
 " Fannie dear !" Grace called again. 
 
 '' Oh ! Easter eggs ? No, I haven't any ; and I wanted them 
 so badly !" 
 
 Still dreaming, but she was wide awake a moment afterward, 
 sitting up looking at Grace and then at the beautifully painted 
 eggs that were held before her wondering eyes. 
 
 ''It is so good in you, sister dear!" she exclaimed. "Thank 
 you a thousand times !" And springing up, she threw her arms 
 about Grace's neck, hugging and kissing her in a heart-gush of 
 love. 
 
 " I will try and be more thoughtful of my little sister here- 
 after," said Grace to herself; and speaking aloud, with her 
 arms still about the neck of her sister, Fannie said : " I wasn't 
 naughty long, Grace ; and I've worked the flower for you, and 
 you are a dear, dear good sister as ever was !" 
 
HOW BOBBY RYAN CAME NEAR 
 BEING DROWNED. 
 
 jmEVER make an enemy even of a dog," said I to 
 Bobby Ryan as I caught at his raised hand and tried 
 to prevent him from throwing a stick at our neighbor 
 Howard's great Newfoundland. But my words and 
 pi effort were too late. Over the fence flew the stick, and 
 whack on Dandy's nose it fell. Now, Dandy, a great, powerful 
 fellow, was very good-natured, but this proved a little too much 
 for him. He sprang up with an angry growl, and bounding 
 over the fence as if he had been as light as a bird, caught 
 Bobby Ryan by the arm and held him tighdy enough to let his 
 teeth be felt. 
 
 '' Dandy ! Dandy !" I cried, in momentary alarm, " let go. 
 Don't bite him." 
 
 The dog lifted his dark brown angry eyes to mine with a 
 look of intelligence, and I understood what they said : " I only 
 want to frighten the young rascal." 
 
 And Bobby was frightened. Dandy held him for a litde 
 while, growling savagely, though there was a great deal of 
 make-believe in the growl, and then tossing the arm away, 
 
 8y 
 
90 HO IV BOBBY RYAN CAME NEAR BEING DROWNED. 
 
 leaped back over the fence and laid himself down by his 
 kennel. 
 
 ''You're a very foolish boy, Bobby Ryan," said I, ''to pick a 
 quarrel with such a splendid old fellow as that. Suppose you 
 were to fall into the lake some day, and Dandy happened to 
 be near, and suppose he should remember your bad treatment 
 and refuse to go in after you ?" 
 
 "Wouldn't care," replied Bobby. "I can swim." 
 
 Now, it happened only a week afterward that Bobby was out 
 on the lake in company with an older boy, and that in some 
 way their boat was upset in deep water not far from the shore, 
 and it also happened that Mr. Howard and his dog Dandy 
 were near by and saw the two boys struggling in the water. 
 
 Quick as thought Dandy sprang into the lake and swam 
 rapidly toward Bobby, but, strange to say, after getting close 
 to the lad, he turned and went toward the larger boy, who was 
 struggling in the water and keeping his head above the surface 
 with difficulty. Seizing him, Dandy brought him safely to the 
 shore. He then turned and looked toward Bobby, his young 
 tormentor. He had a good many old grudges against him, 
 and for some moments seemed hesitating whether to save him 
 or let him drown. 
 
 " Quick, Dandy !" cried his master, pointing to poor Bobby, 
 who was trying his best to keep afloat. He was not the brave 
 swimmer he had thought himself 
 
 At this the noble old dog bounded again into the water and 
 brought Bobby to land. He did not seem to have much heart 
 in his work, however, for he dropped the boy as soon as he 
 
HO IV BOBBY RYAN CAME NEAR BEING DROWNED. 9 I 
 reached the shore, and walked away with a stately, indifferent 
 
 UiV. 
 
 But Bobby, grateful for his rescue and repenting of his 
 former unkindness, made up with Dandy on that very day, and 
 they were ever afterward fast friends. He came very near 
 ksing his life through unkindness to a dog, and the lesson it 
 give him will not soon be forgotten. 
 
BE A GOOD GIRL. 
 
 E a good girl, Dolly! Don't do anything naughty 
 while I'm gone, and be sure to get your lesson." 
 And Katy lifted her finger and shook it at Dolly 
 as she opened the door to leave the room. 
 
 Now, these were almost the very words Katy's 
 mother had said to her only a litde while before. 
 
 And what do you think was in Katy's mind when she said 
 this to her Dolly? I will tell you. She had been playing with 
 Fido and her Dolly for a good while, as happy as she could be, 
 when all at once she thought of the basket filled with nice cake 
 she had seen that morning in her mamma's closet, and as soon 
 as she thought of the cake she began to want a piece. 
 
 But mamma had told her never to go to this closet to help 
 herself, so she tried not to think about the cake, but still the 
 thought would come. At last she said to herself, *' I'll just get 
 a tiny little piece " — as if it wasn't as wrong to take a little 
 piece as a big one. 
 
 So off Katy started, after charging her Dolly to be a good 
 girl while she was gone. As she opened the closet door she 
 thought she heard her mother's voice. She stopped to listen. 
 
 92 
 
BE A GOOD CURL. 
 

BE A GOOD GIRL. 95 
 
 " Be a good girl, Katy !" It seemed as if the words were 
 spoken aloud, so distinctly did they fall on her ears. " Don't 
 do anything naughty while I'm gone." Just what she had said 
 to Dolly. 
 
 A strange feeling came over little Katy. She shut the closet 
 door softly, looked all about the room and listened for her 
 mother's steps, but she was alone. 
 
 "Be a good girl, Katy!" Again the words seemed spoken 
 aloud. 
 
 Katy stood wondering ; then she said softly to herself, as a 
 lieht came into her face, " I ouess it's one of the angels mam- 
 ma told me about that won't let bad spirits make us naughty 
 if they can help it. I was going to be naughty, but I won't. 
 I'll not touch the cake, because mamma said I mustn't." 
 
 And the little girl went back to her Dolly, and catching it up 
 in her arms, kissed it fondly, saying, as she danced about the 
 room, " Dear Dolly was a good little girl, and didn't do any- 
 thing naughty while its mamma was gone !" 
 
THE SNOA¥ STORM. 
 
 H dear! I'm so disappointed!" 
 
 Harvey sat by the window looking out dreamily 
 at the fast-falling snow. 
 Now, a boy ten years old is not often put out of humor 
 by a snow storm, for the snow brings frolic and fun. But 
 it happened that this one came just in the wrong time — at least 
 so Harvey thought, for It kept him from making a promised 
 visit to his cousins, who lived a mile or two away. The snow 
 was already deep and still falling, and his mother would not 
 hear to his going off alone. 
 
 " My dear boy," she said, " you might get lost In the snow 
 and be frozen to death." 
 
 But Harvey wasn't afraid, and would have taken all the risks 
 if his mother had said the word. This she could not do, and 
 so the boy had to stay at home, much against his will. 
 
 Instead of putting on his great coat and warm mittens, as 
 most little boys would have done, and having a good time out 
 of doors, where the beautiful snow was drifting about in 
 feathery flakes and covering the earth with a carpet of the 
 purest white, he sat moping at a window, saying every now 
 and then to himself, in a miserable voice : 
 
 96 
 
THE SNOW STORM. 
 
 97 
 
 " Oh dear ! I'm so disappointed !" 
 
 About midday the snow ceased falling and the sun came out 
 bright and strong. What a lustre and sparkle was on every- 
 thing ! How strange and wonderful in its new robe of dazzling 
 whiteness was every object on which the vision rested ! 
 
 As Harvey looked from the window he felt the charm of a 
 scene so lovely. The shadows of disappointment passed away 
 and his cheerfulness returned. 
 
 "It is so beautiful!" he said, looking up into his mother's 
 face. 
 
 " It is good as well as beautiful," answered his mother. 
 
 ** What Is the snow good for?" asked Harvey. 
 
 " It is good for the broad fields in which the farmer sows his 
 grain. This snow storm, which made you angry because it 
 came in the way of a little pleasure, has covered the grain- 
 
98 
 
 THE SNOW STORM. 
 
 fields as with a soft blanket, protecting the seed sown there, 
 and making sure the summer harvests." 
 
 ''Oh, I didn't know that!" answered Harvey. "But I was 
 so disappointed !" 
 
 ''And, like a great many older people," said his mother, 
 "refused the pleasure that was at your door, and sat down 
 gloomily to sigh for something afar off. But the storm is over 
 
 now, and I think, if you are dressed up warmly, you might go 
 over to your cousin's. The snow is not very deep." 
 
 Harvey clapped his hands in high glee, and danced about 
 the room for joy. 
 
 In a few minutes he had on his warm overcoat, his cap and 
 his mittens, and with a light basket in his hand started off. 
 
THE SNOW STORM. 
 
 99 
 
 *' You see, darling," said his mother as she kissed him at 
 the door, " that you have wasted a whole morning and been 
 unhappy for nothing. Because God was spreading this cover- 
 ing of snow over the fields that he might give bread to the 
 hungry you complained and were miserable, instead of being 
 thankful for his goodness, and waiting for the pleasure you had 
 looked for until the storm was over. You have the pleasure 
 now, and it is your own fault that it comes after pain,/* 
 
GOD'S ACRE. 
 
 ^ HE children gathered around their father with expect- 
 ant faces as he untied a broad thin parcel. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked one of them, more eager than 
 the rest to grasp the coming pleasure. 
 A moment afterward, and there was held up to our ad- 
 miring gaze the beautiful chromo, '' God's Acre." For a litde 
 while we were all silent as we looked at the two children out 
 In the wintry snow, and felt the sadness that rested on one of 
 their faces. 
 
 " Poor, dear children !" said I, first to break the silence. I 
 had thrown my arm around Katie, and now drew her tighdy to 
 my side. 
 
 "Where are they going?" asked Eddie. "What are they 
 doing out in the snow ?" 
 
 " Going to lay a wreath upon their mother's grave," said I, 
 with a tender sadness in my voice that I could not repress. 
 
 "Oh! is their mother dead?" returned the child, his voice 
 catching the sadness of my own. 
 
 " Yes, dear. They are poor motherless little girls, and they 
 have gone to the graveyard on a dreary winter day to put an 
 offering of love upon her grave." 
 
 100 
 
GOD'S ACRE. 
 
^u^i'i^ii' 
 
GOD'S ACRE, 103 
 
 "Why do they call the picture God's Acre?" asked one of 
 the children. 
 
 *' It is another name for a graveyard," replied their father. 
 " Longfellow has a poem beginning — 
 
 < I like that ancient Saxon phrase which calls 
 The burial-ground God Acre ! It is just : 
 It consecrates each grave within its walls 
 
 And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.' " 
 
 " I'm so sorry for them," said Katie, crowding closely against 
 me and laying her curly head on my bosom. Then she put her 
 arms about my neck and kissed me, and as I looked down into 
 her face I saw that her eyes were swimming in tears. My own 
 heart was too full to speak, and I only drew my arm more 
 tightly around her, thanking God in my heart that my little 
 ones still had their mother to love and care for them. 
 
THE WHITE ROSE. 
 
 yM^il WHITE rose that grew far up on a trellis felt very 
 I'vfSTl lonely, and sighed to be down In the crarden where 
 ^^J\g) the children were at play. 
 
 ^^^^ " ^ an"i of no use away up here," she said. " Nobody 
 ^^ sees me, and when I breathe out my sweet odors, the 
 wind bears them off among the tree-tops, and they are lost." 
 
 104 
 
THE WHITE ROSE. I05 
 
 But even as she sighed her complaints a soft hand reached 
 down from a window and took her gently from the stem that 
 bore her, and she heard a voice say : 
 
 " How pure and sweet ! — pure as my patient Lily." 
 
 Then the hand that held her tenderly bore her to an inner 
 chamber, where a sick child lay upon a bed. 
 
 "This beautiful white rose," said the voice which had sounded 
 so sweetly, " came up from the garden and grew close by the 
 window. It has breathed the purest air and drunk the warm- 
 est sunshine. Its heart is full of sweetness." 
 
 And the hand held her close to the sick child, who was re- 
 freshed by her beauty and fragrance. 
 
 Then the rose quivered with delight, and breathing out her 
 very heart upon the air, filled the chamber with a rich perfume. 
 
 " I am content," she said, a litde while afterward, as she lay 
 on the pillow beside the sick child, her soft white leaves touch- 
 ing the cheek as soft and white as themselves. 
 
THE NEW SCHOLAR. 
 
 HIS is a boy's school," said the kind .old teacher as 
 he put the rod he held in his hand behind him. " We 
 don't take dogs." 
 
 There was a smile in his pleasant eyes. 
 ^ '* Ponto would come along, you see ; he's so fond of 
 
 osie. 
 " Yes, ma'am, I've no doubt of it, and the lambs and kit- 
 tens too. But we only take boys." 
 
 Josie had seen the rod which the teacher was trying to keep 
 out of view, and it friorhtened him. So he drew back and 
 caught hold of his mother's dress, while Ponto, a little scared,, 
 like his master, but on the alert, smelled suspiciously at the 
 teacher's trowsers. 
 
 " He's a good boy," said Josie's mother, lifting the cap from 
 his pure white brow, "and won't, I am sure, give you any 
 trouble." 
 
 But the rod was too much for Josie. He kept his eyes upon 
 the arm that held it, and bent round to get sight of the terrible 
 instrument. 
 
 " It isn't for good litde boys like you " — the teacher smiled 
 and looked kindly at the lad — *'but for bad boys and dogs." 
 
 I 
 
 106 
 
THE NEW SCHOLAR. I07 
 
 And he looked at Ponto, lifting his hand and making believe 
 he was oroinof to strike. The dofj started back in alarm and 
 ran out of doors, Josie following, and in the next instant both 
 were seen scampering down the road and on their way home. 
 It was all in vain that Josie's mother called him ; he neither 
 stopped nor turned, but kept on as fast as his legs would carry 
 him, and did not stop until he and Ponto were safe at home. 
 
 "So much," said the teacher, a little severely, to Josie's mo- 
 ther, " for letting him bring his dog along. You ought to have 
 known better." 
 
 "And so much," answered Josie's mother, a flash of anger 
 in her eyes, " for keeping an instrument of torture in your 
 hand to fricrhten little children. You oueht to know better." 
 
 The mother and teacher stood looking at each other with 
 severe faces for some moments. Then a change came over 
 that of the kind old man. It orrew mild and eentle. 
 
 " You are right," he said, with a tender regret in his tones. 
 " I ought to have known better, and I thank you for telling me 
 the truth. Bring your little boy to-morrow, and I promise you 
 there will be no rod visible to frighten him. But be sure," he 
 added, a smile lighting up his face, " to leave Ponto at home." 
 
THE SISTERS, 
 
 'M sorry, but one of you will have to stay at home," 
 said the mother. *' Hannah's father is sick, and I 
 promised her that she should go to see him, and I 
 cannot take the care of Eddie all day." 
 Of course she could not. You had only to look into 
 her pale face and on her thin, weak body to know that. 
 
 Her two little girls, Fannie and Alice, were standing before 
 her when she said this. She saw their countenances fall. 
 
 " I wish it were not so," the mother added, feebly, " but I 
 would be in bed sick before the day was half over if I were 
 left alone with Eddie. Some one has to be after him all the 
 time." 
 
 Fannie pouted and scowled, I am sorry to say. Alice looked 
 sober and disappointed. They went from their mother's room 
 without speaking. When so far away that her voice could not 
 be heard, Fannie said, in a sharp, resolute tone, from which all 
 kind feeling had died out: 
 
 " Pm not going to stay at home. Miss Alice ! You can 
 make your mind up to that" 
 
 Alice did not reply, but sat down quiedy. Her disappoint- 
 
 lOS 
 
THE SfSTERS. IO9 
 
 ment was keen, for some little girls in the neighborhood had 
 made up a small pic-nic party, and were going to have a 
 pleasant day in the woods. 
 
 " It will be as mother says," she spoke out, after thinking for 
 a while. 
 
 " I'm the oldest and have the best right to go," answered 
 Fannie, selfishly. ^' And what's more, I'm going;" and she 
 commenced putting on her things. 
 
 A few tears crept into the eyes of Alice. It would fall upon 
 her to stay at home ; she saw that. Fannie was selfish and 
 strong willed, and unless positively ordered by her mother to 
 remain at home and let her sister go, would grasp as her own 
 the pleasure to which Alice had an equal right with herself. 
 If the decision were referred to her mother, a contention would 
 spring up, and then Fannie would speak and act in a way to 
 cause her distress of mind. 
 
 "If mother were to make Fannie stay at home," Alice said, 
 in her thought, " she w^ould pout, and fling, and act so ugly 
 that there'd be no comfort with her, and mother isn't strong 
 enough to bear it." 
 
 The tender love that Alice held in her heart for both her 
 mother and dear little two-year-old Eddie was all-prevailirjg, 
 and soon turned her thoughts away from the pic-nic and its 
 promised delights to the pleasures and loving duties of home. 
 
 " I'm going to stay," she said, coming back into her mother's 
 room with a bright face and cheerful voice. 
 
 "Are you, dear?" It was all she said, but in her tone and 
 looks there was a precious heart-reward for Alice. 
 
ITO 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 '* He's been so sweet all day !" said Alice, coming; in where 
 her mother sat by a window, with the cool airs of the late 
 afternoon fanning her wasted cheeks. She had a weary look. 
 
 "And you have been sweet too, my darling!" answered the 
 mother, in a very tender voice, as she laid her hand on Alice's 
 head. " I don't knov\^ what I should have done without you. It 
 has been one of my weak days. But you look tired, dear," 
 
 she added. ''Sit down in that easy-chair and rest yourself. 
 Come, Eddie." 
 
 And she held out her hands for the child, but he clambered 
 into Alice's lap and laid his cunning little head against her 
 bosom. Both were tired — loving sister and sweet pet brother. 
 It seemed hardly a minute before they were asleep, and as the 
 
THE SISTERS. 1 I 
 
 mother, with eyes that were fast growing dnii, looked at their 
 tranquil faces and quiet forms, she thanked the good Father in 
 heaven for a gift so precious and beautiful. 
 
 Bang! went the door, starding the mother from peaceful 
 thoughts and arousing Alice from the light slumber into which 
 she had fallen. In came Fannie, all in disorder, and threw her- 
 self into a chair, looking the picture of unhappiness. 
 
 ''Have you had a pleasant time?" asked the mother, speak- 
 ing with a kind interest in her voice. 
 
 "I've had a horrid time!" answered Fannie, flinging out the 
 word angrily. " I never saw such a mean set of girls in my 
 life. They wouldn't do anything I wanted to do, nor go any- 
 where I wanted to go." 
 
 ''That was bad," said the mother. "And I suppose you 
 wouldn't do anything they wanted to do, nor go anywhere they 
 wanted to go." 
 
 Fannie did not reply. 
 
 " How was it, my child?" urged the mother. 
 
 " Hadn't I as much right to have my way about things as any 
 of them?" demanded Fannie. "There was that Kate Lewis. 
 I can't bear her! If she said, 'Let us do this,' or, 'Let us do 
 that,' every one agreed in a minute." 
 
 " You with the rest," said the mother. 
 
 "Indeed, then, and I didn't!" replied Fannie, impatiently. 
 " Kate Lewis can't lead me about by the nose, as she does 
 other girls. I have a mind of my own." 
 
 " Perhaps," answered her mother, seriously, "you would have 
 
I I 2 THE SISTERS. 
 
 come nearer to the truth, my child, if you had said a self-will 
 of your own. I find, from your account of things, that you 
 wanted everything your own way, and, because the rest 
 wouldn't give up to you, made yourself disagreeable and un- 
 happy, and so lost all the pleasure of the day. I'm afraid you 
 were not in just the best state of mind for enjoyment when you 
 left this morning." 
 
 This was too much for Fannie, already feeling so miserable, 
 and she broke out into a fit of sobbing and crying. 
 
 In what different states of mind were the two girls at the 
 close of this day ! Alice, awakened from a brief but refreshing 
 sleep by the entrance of Fannie, sat, with tranquil heart and 
 peaceful face, looking at her unhappy sister, who had selfishly 
 claimed the day for pleasure, not caring how wearily it might 
 pass for her, and pitied her miserable condition, while Fannie 
 cried from very shame and wretchedness. 
 
 Dear little readers, need I ask any of you, even the youngest, 
 what made all this difference ? Already you have come to know, 
 through some painful as well as pleasant experiences, that hap- 
 piness waits not on any selfish demand, but creeps lovingly Into 
 every heart which, forgetful of its own ease, or comfort, or 
 pleasure, seeks the comfort and blessing of others. 
 
 Do not forget this, dear children. Keep it always In mind, 
 and it will not only save you many unhappy hours, but put 
 warm floods of sunshine and joy into your hearts. 
 
KATIE'S RIDE DOWN HILL. 
 
 ^ AKE good care of her, Frankle." 
 ^^iW " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "And be sure not to upset her In the snow." 
 '' Wouldn't that be fun ?" laughed Katie, a merry light 
 y}> sparkling in her blue eyes. 
 
 " Not if you struck on your nose or got a bump on your 
 head," said mamma as she wrapped Katie up warmly. 
 
 " Get on, now ! There ! Hold fast, and away we go !" 
 shouted Frankie, and off he started with little Katie on his sled, 
 pulling her easily over the snow. 
 
 What a pretty sight it was ! — Katie, a soft, warm bundle, on 
 the sled, looking so happy, and Frankie, full of life, prancing 
 along with her like a spirited horse. 
 
 xAway they went, down the lane and across an old field to a 
 hillside where the boys of the village came to coast. This hill 
 was steep, and there was a mill-race at the bottom, now frozen 
 over and covered to the depth of several feet with drifted 
 snow. 
 
 " You get off now," said Frankie, *' and let me go down the 
 
 hill." 
 
 8 ii;^ 
 
114 KATIE'S RIDE DOWN HILL. 
 
 So Katie got off the sled, and Frankie drew It to the edge 
 of the hill. 
 
 " Now see me eo !" he cried to Katie, and he took his seat 
 on the sled. A moment after he was moving off, and soon 
 went o-lidino- down the hill as swiftly as the wind. Katie 
 almost held her breath as she watched her brother, and when 
 she saw him safely at the bottom clapped her hands with de- 
 light. 
 
 '* Get on with me," said Frankie as he came dragging his 
 sled to the hilltop, his face glowing with excitement. He had 
 forgotten his mother s parting words : " Take good care of her, 
 Frankie." i 
 
 " Oh, I'm afraid," answered Katie. 
 
 " Get on ! There's no danger ! Fm not afraid," urged her 
 brother ; " you don't know how nice it is. See ! There goes 
 Maggie Lewis. She's not afraid. Come ! That's a dear little 
 sister. It's splendid fun. Just get on the sled and try it. I 
 know you will like it." 
 
 So urged and persuaded, Katie, with her little heart in her 
 mouth, as the saying is, got on the sled, sitting right behind 
 her brother and clasping both arms around him, while he held 
 the cord that was fastened to his sled. 
 
 " Oh, I'm afraid !" said Katie, in a low, timid voice, as the sled 
 began moving, and her eyes went down the steep hill before 
 her. 
 
 " No danger !" answered Frankie ; yet, even as he said this, 
 he felt less assured, for the hill looked steeper than before, and 
 the burden of Katie on his sled and the clasp of her arms took 
 
THE RIDE DOWN HILL. 
 
KA TIE 'S RIDE DOWN HILL. I I 7 
 
 away the free play of his muscles and that confidence so need- 
 ful in the swift descent. 
 
 Away they went, their speed increasing every moment, until 
 they reached a place where the hill pitched down at a sharp 
 angle, and beyond which the coaster had no power to stop 
 himself, but must go on swiftly to the bottom, where, by firmly 
 bracing his feet, he could check his flight in time to keep free 
 of the mill-race. 
 
 " Oh dear !" cried Katie as she looked down the hill ; " Fm so 
 frightened !" 
 
 " No danger," said Frankie, trying to speak bravely. 
 ** Keep right still and hold on." 
 
 Away they flew, swifter and swifter. It seemed to Katie as 
 if they were falling from a window. She lost her breath in the 
 rush of the passing air, and knew nothing more until she felt 
 herself bounding from the sled. In the next moment she was 
 buried deep in the soft bed of snow that filled the mill-race, 
 and as safe from harm as if she had tumbled into a bank of 
 feathers. 
 
 "Oh, Katie, Katie! Are you hurt?" cried Frankie, in great 
 fear, as he sprang up and shook the snow-flakes from his great 
 coat, just as you have seen a water-dog shake the drops from 
 his shaggy sides. 
 
 Half a dozen boys who had seen the flight down the hill 
 and the leap into the mill-race came running to the rescue, 
 and soon pulled little Katie out of the snow-drift. She was as 
 white as a little lamb. Clothes, hair and face were all covered 
 with the soft down of winter. 
 
Il8 KATIE'S RIDE DOWN NILE 
 
 " I won't tell mother anything about it," said the dear child, 
 in a voice out of which the fear had not yet gone, as Frankie 
 brushed the snow from her hair and shook it from her coat. 
 
 '' But I will," answered Frankie. 
 
 ''And get a good scolding," said one of the boys. "What's 
 the use? I wouldn't tell her!" 
 
 " My mother never scolds," returned Frankie ; " she only 
 talks easy and good, as if she loved me. I tell her every- 
 thing." 
 
 And then dragging his sled to the top of the hill while the 
 boys carried Katie, he seated his little sister again and drew 
 her home. By the time they arrived, Katie's fright was over, 
 and she had a grand little story to tell about her coasting down 
 the hill and tumble in the snow-drift. 
 
 " Oh, I wish you could have seen her when the boys pulled 
 her out !" said Frankie. " She looked just like a dear little 
 lamb — white all over." 
 
 Frankie's mother did not scold him — as he said, she never 
 scolded — but she talked to him about the care he should feel 
 for his sister. 
 
 " You are older," she said, " and know where danger is bet- 
 ter than she does. You are stronger, and can do and brave 
 more than she can. Never forget this, and never forget that, 
 as her older brother, your love and care should not for a mo- 
 ment fail. Let to-day's lesson, my son, make you more than 
 ever thoughtful and tender of our dear little lamb." 
 
 And ever after Frankie was as careful and tender of her as 
 his mother could desire. 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 ND what a Mad time it will be for the little ones ! In 
 
 thousands and thousands of homes, when breaks the 
 
 Christmas morning, there will be sweet surprises 
 
 >{f like that in the picture, and hearts made happy by 
 
 d^ love-gifts. 
 
 Christmas is coming ! You are waiting for it, dear children — 
 waiting and wondering what gifts it will bring. 
 
 Shall I tell you, in this waiting-time, a Christmas story? I 
 know one ; it is about a little girl when she was only nine years 
 old. Her name was Felice, and she lived with her old grand- 
 mother in a small cottage that stood alone on the roadside, 
 nearly a mile away from the village. 
 
 One day, just a week before Christmas, a man came riding 
 by. He was closely wrapped in a heavy cloak, for the air was 
 cold and snow lay deep on the ground. His face had an un- 
 happy look, and he rode along with his head bent forward and 
 drawn down amonor the fur linino^s of his cloak. 
 
 As this horseman passed the cottage he looked carelessly at 
 its single small window, and then suddenly drew his rein and 
 stopped. What did he see ? Nothing very wonderful. Only 
 
 119 
 
I 20 CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 two tiny cedar trees not more than twelve inches high, each 
 with gay ornaments Hke flowers on its slender branches, purple, 
 and yellow, and scarlet. 
 
 He drew his rein and stopped. For a little while he sat 
 gazing at the tiny Christmas trees, the hard, unhappy lines 
 o-oino- slowly out of his face and a more pleasant look coming 
 in their place. Then he got down from his horse and went 
 into the poor litde cottage. 
 
 Felice was all alone, for her grandmother had gone to a 
 neighbor's to get some wool to spin, but she was not afraid 
 when the tall man came in, for though he had a cold, almost 
 stern face, there was something kind in the dark eyes that 
 looked into hers. 
 
 " All alone, my litde maiden ?" he said as he looked around 
 the room. 
 
 '' Yes, sir," answered Felice, and the man thought he had 
 never heard a sweeter voice. '' Granny's gone for wool." 
 
 " Aren't you afraid to stay here all by yourself?" asked the 
 man. 
 
 " Afraid !" There was a slight tone of wonder In the child's 
 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes ; it's so still and lonely." 
 
 " Granny says, if I think good thoughts, angels will come 
 close to me, though I can't see them, and granny knows. I'm 
 not afraid of them, sir." 
 
 Felice looked up into the man's face and saw it soften and 
 change. He could not bear her steady gaze, and so turned a 
 little from her. 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 121 
 
 "Won't you sit down, sir?" said Felice, and the stranger 
 took one of the old wooden chairs in the room and sat down. 
 
 *' So you are going to keep Christmas ?" The man looked 
 at the two tiny trees in the window, and as he did so his eyes 
 rested on two or three more standing in a corner, but not 
 dressed like the others. " But what do you want with so 
 many trees ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, they're for some of the poor children down in the 
 village who won't have any of their own," replied Felice. 
 
 The man seemed to catch his breath. A warm color came 
 suddenly into his face. He turned and gazed for some moments, 
 with a look of strange surprise, at Felice. How pure, and 
 sweet, and innocent her face was ! Not a line of self-approval 
 there ; nothing to show that a thought of anything but making 
 the poor village children happy had ever crossed her mind. 
 
 " Did you dress them?" asked the man, rising and going to 
 the window. 
 
 " Yes, sir, all myself Granny has to spin." 
 
 He lifted one of the pots, in which a tiny tree was planted, 
 and looked at it closely. The little rosettes of bright cloth 
 were neatly cut and tastefully arranged about the tree, while 
 here and there hung a yellow immortelle or purple amaranth. 
 
 He stood very still for a while, and then drew a long sigh. 
 
 *' Is your granny old ?" he asked as he came back from the 
 window. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir, she's very old. Her hair is white as snow." 
 
 "And so poor that she has to spin?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; all day long." 
 
122 CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 " How old are you ?" 
 
 '' Nine," she answered. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 *' Felice." 
 
 The man sighed again. After a moment or two he drew 
 himself up, and with a tone of reproof in his voice, said, 
 
 " I think it would be better to help your poor old grand- 
 mother than to waste time in making Christmas trees for idle 
 children who micrht dress their own." 
 
 o 
 
 For a moment or two the man's words seemed to stun the 
 child. She moved away from him, and her eyes had a fright- 
 ened look. But this soon passed off, and the peace of a good 
 conscience rested on her dear young face. 
 
 '* You don't know, or you wouldn't say that," she answered, 
 looking at him steadily. 
 
 He felt the rebuke of her eyes and words. The two gazed 
 steadily at each other, but the man's eyes were first to turn 
 away. A feeling that was almost reverence for the little 
 maiden came into his heart. She seemed to him more like an 
 aneel than a child. 
 
 " Are there many poor children in the village ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir ! a great many." What a light, what a hopeful 
 interest, came into her face ! 
 
 " Do you dress trees for them all ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 "Oh no, sir!" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 A shadow fell upon the child's face. 
 
 "Why not?" The man repeated his question. 
 
CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. ' 1 25 
 
 " We are poor, granny and I," the little maiden answered, 
 " and it takes money to buy the pots and bright cloth. We do 
 all we can." 
 
 The stranger caught his breath again like one a little scared. 
 Then he bent down, and lifting the child gently, kissed her and 
 went away. 
 
 That evening, just as the sun was going down, a man 
 brought three boxes and left them at the cottage. 
 
 ''Who sent them ?" asked the grandmother. 
 
 But the man only said, "They are for you. That Is all I 
 know," and w^ent away. 
 
 When they opened the boxes, what surprise and gladness 
 filled their hearts ! In one of them were a hundred little 
 flower-pots ; In another, pieces of gay-colored cloth, gold and 
 silver paper, spangles and gilt balls ; and In the other meal and 
 bread, meat and dried fruit, and a purse containing a small sum 
 of money. 
 
 Poor old granny and little Felice cried for very gladness of 
 heart. 
 
 What a busy time they had for the next five or six days, 
 making little trees out of cedar and pine branches, and dress- 
 ing them up In gay Christmas attire for the poor village chil- 
 dren ! 
 
 " He'll come again, granny, I'm sure of It," Felice said, every 
 day, as they worked at their pleasant task. 
 
 But she was mistaken. The stranger did not come, and 
 Felice, who often went to the gate In front of the cottage to 
 gaze up and down the road, looked for him In vain. 
 
126 CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 At last it was the day before Christmas, and the floor of 
 their cottage was like a flower garden. Every one of the hun- 
 dred pots had its tiny Christmas tree that stood up bravely in 
 fine attire. 
 
 " What shall we do with them all ?" asked Felice's grand- 
 mother as she stood looking at the beautiful display. 
 
 " They are for the poor village children," answered Felice. 
 
 " Oh yes ! But there are so many. How shall we get them 
 into the village? It would take us all day to carry them in, 
 and it's bitter cold. See ! the snow is beginning to fall. I 
 don't know what we shall do." 
 
 And the old white-haired grandmother s face was troubled. 
 
 As they talked in their perplexity, they heard outside the 
 sound of wheels, and looking from the window, saw the man 
 who had brought the three boxes. He came bustling in, rub- 
 bing his hands to warm them, and saying, as he entered, 
 
 " Are the Christmas trees ready ?" 
 
 There was no need of an answer, for he had but to look 
 down upon the floor that was as gay and beautiful as a flower- 
 bed. 
 
 " Ay, ay !" he said, replying to his own question. And then, 
 without a word more, he commenced gathering them up and 
 carrying them out. It was not long before every Christmas 
 tree was in the man's wagon. After stowing away the last 
 armful, the man jumped in and drove ofl", without so much as 
 saying *' good-bye " to granny and Felice, who had stood look- 
 ing on in a bewildered, helpless kind of way, wondering at 
 what they saw. 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. I 27 
 
 All day the snow fell, and Christmas eve closed in dark and 
 stormy upon the inmates of the little cottage. But the fire 
 burned cheerily on their hearth and their souls were full of 
 peace, for, though they should not see it, they were sure that 
 a hundred hearts would be made glad through the work of 
 their hands. Sweet was their sleep that night, and in dreams 
 they heard angel voices singing, " Peace on earth, good-will to 
 men." 
 
 What a elorious Christmas morninof was that which broke 
 upon the world when next night drew aside her dusky curtains! 
 Up into the clear blue sky the sun arose, filling the air with 
 sparkles like diamond dust, and giving to the snowy carpet that 
 covered the earth the sheen of fretted silver. 
 
 *'What is that, my child?" asked the grandmother. Their 
 breakfast was over and she was at her wheel, just beginning to 
 spin. 
 
 Felice looked from the window, and then called back in a 
 hurried voice : 
 
 " A carriage ! And there's a lady getting out !" 
 
 Too much surprised to move, Felice and her grandmother 
 stood still until the door opened and a stately woman came in, 
 accompanied by a servant bearing a large bundle. But with 
 all her stateliness, the woman had a kind face and her eyes 
 were full of a tender interest. 
 
 '' And this is little Felice ?" she said, smiling down upon the 
 wondering child. Then she stooped and kissed her. 
 
 " As you remembered his poor children at Christmas-time, 
 so our good Father in heaven has put it into our hearts to 
 
128 CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 remember you," the lady added, kissing Felice a second 
 time. 
 
 Then she turned to the old grandmother, who was trembling 
 with joy and wonder, and taking her thin brown hand, that was 
 shriveled by age and hardened by labor, kissed her on the fore- 
 head, saying, as she did so, in a low, serious voice, " Inasmuch 
 as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto 
 me." 
 
 For a little while all stood in reverent silence. Then the 
 lady said, in a cheery voice, her whole manner changing : 
 
 " A merry Christmas, my good Dame Helder ! And a merry 
 Christmas, Felice ! There's going to be a gay time among the 
 village children, and vou are both wanted." 
 
 At this the servant opened the bundle she carried, and the 
 lady took from it a handsome new gown, warm underclothing 
 and a woollen cloak for the grandmother, and one of the 
 sweetest little dresses for Felice you ever saw, with plenty of 
 other things to match. 
 
 What a busy, bustling, bewildering time there was in the 
 cottage for the next half hour ! Both Felice and her grand- 
 mother thought themselves dreaming all the while, and ex- 
 pected every moment to wake up. 
 
 As soon as they were all ready, and so changed that they 
 would not have known themselves, they were taken into the 
 carriage and driven away. 
 
 If their surprise was great at all this, it was doubled when, 
 after riding for an hour, they found themselves entering the 
 wide court-yard of a castle. 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING, I 29 
 
 As the carriage drew up amid a group that were gathered 
 around the casde door, the tall, dark man who had stopped at 
 Dame Helder's cottage came out quickly, and lifdng Felice in 
 his arms, kissed her before all the people, and then carried her 
 into the castle. 
 
 '' I'm sure it's all a dream," said Felice, in her heart, as she 
 lay with shut eyes in the strong arms that held her very 
 tenderly. 
 
 All at once a sound of many voices — children's voices — 
 broke upon her ears. She opened her eyes. Was she in 
 Fairyland? It must be so, she thought, for surely nothing on 
 earth could be half so gay and beautiful. She was in a large 
 hall hung round with banners and curtains, and decked with 
 wreaths and festoons of evergreens. From the centre of the 
 hall rose a great Christmas tree whose top touched the ceiling, 
 and all its branches were laden with toys, and fruit, and rich 
 confections. 
 
 Around the tree, at the bottom, a narrow stand had been 
 placed, and on this, sweeping in a circle of beauty, stood the 
 hundred litde trees that Felice and her grandmother had 
 dressed for the village children. 
 
 The man — he was lord of the casde, and the people in the 
 village were his tenants — held Felice high up in his strong 
 arms, so that she could see all the beautiful things in the hall 
 and the happy children dancing around the Christmas tree. 
 When she saw the circle of litde trees, she could not keep the 
 tears from rolling over her cheeks. 
 
 Then the lord of the castle set her in a crimson chair that 
 
130 CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 
 
 Stood on a platform at the upper end of the hall, and called to 
 the children, who came running gayly down the floor. But 
 when they saw a child beautifully dressed sitting in the crim- 
 son chair, they grew silent and pressed closely around her. 
 
 "It is Felice !" suddenly cried out one of the children. 
 
 " Oh, it's our good Felice !" said another, clapping his hands. 
 
 And "Felice!" "Felice!" Felice!" ran through the hall 
 from a hundred triad voices. 
 
 But all this was too much for the excited child. The red 
 flush began to fade out of her sweet face, and in its stead there 
 came the pallor of faintness. At this moment the lady who had 
 brought her from the cottage — she was wife to the lord of the 
 castle — entered the great hall, and seeing how white Felice had 
 grown, caught her up in her arms and carried her away to her 
 own chamber. 
 
 Shall I tell you what happened after this ? Felice did not go 
 down again to the hall, where the children of the village spent 
 the happiest Christmas they had ever known, and at evening 
 went away, each taking some present for the poor father and 
 mother at home. She had grown faint from excitement, and 
 had to be kept quiet all day. 
 
 What happened next ? Oh, well, this Is w^hat happened. 
 The lord and lady of the castle had no children, and had grown 
 selfish and careless of their poor tenants In the village. But 
 now that the hand of this strangely sweet and gentle child had 
 opened a door in their hearts, and taught them a lesson of 
 good deeds, love went out toward her so strongly that they 
 could not send her back from the castle. Everv dav that she 
 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. I3I 
 
 remained there she grew lovelier in their eyes and dearer to 
 their hearts, and at last one said to the other, 
 
 " Let her be to us as our own child." 
 
 And it was answered, 
 
 " Let it be so." 
 
 And it was so. 
 
DON'T CRY OVER SPILLED MILK. 
 
 H, pussy !" cried Herbert In a voice of anger and dis- 
 may as the blockhouse he was building fell in sudden 
 ruin. The playful cat had rubbed against his mimic 
 castle, and tower and wall went rattling down upon the 
 floor, a hopeless wreck. 
 In blind passion, Herbert took up one of his blocks and 
 threw it fiercely at pussy. Happily, it passed over her and did 
 no harm. His hand was reaching for another block when his 
 little sister Hetty sprang toward the cat and caught her up, 
 saying, 
 
 " No, no, no ! You sha'n't hurt pussy. She didn't mean to 
 do it." 
 
 Herbert's passion, which had blazed up with so quick a 
 flame, went out as quickly, and sitting down upon the floor, he 
 covered his face with his hands and cried. 
 
 "What a baby !" said Joe, his elder brother, who was reading 
 on the sofa. " Crying over spilled milk does no good. Build 
 it up again." 
 
 " No, I won't," replied Herbert, and went on crying. 
 Joe looked down upon his book again. Hetty held the cat 
 closely in her arms, and Herbert went on crying in a miserable 
 way. 
 
 132 
 
DON'T CRY OVER SPILLED MILK. 1 33 
 
 "What's all the trouble here?" exclaimed papa as he opened 
 the door and came In. 
 
 " Pussy just rubbed against Herbert's castle and it fell 
 down," answered Hetty, "but she didn't mean to do it; she 
 didn't know it would fall, did she, papa?" 
 
 "Why, no!" said papa. ''And is that all the trouble? 
 Herbert!" 
 
 The little boy got up from the floor. 
 
 " Come ;'■' and papa held out his arms. 
 
 Herbert came slowly, his lips pouting, his eyes full of tears, 
 and stood by his father. 
 
 "There's a better and pleasanter way than this, my boy," 
 said papa, "and if you had taken that way, your heart would 
 have been light already. I should have heard you singing 
 instead of crying over your blocks. Shall I show you that 
 way?" 
 
 Herbert nodded his little head, swallowed back his sobs and 
 wiped the tears from his eyelashes. 
 
 Papa sat down on the floor by the ruined castle, and Herbert 
 sat down beside him, the lost smiles already beginning to play 
 about his lips and to dance in his eyes. 
 
 " Don't let pussy come here," he cried, in a warning voice, to 
 Hetty, as his father began laying out the foundation for a new 
 castle. 
 
 "Pussy isn't going to," answered Hetty, hugging the cat 
 closely in her arms. 
 
 Soon Herbert was as much interested in castle-building as 
 he had been a litde while before, and as he laid block upon 
 
134 DON'T CRY OVER SPILLED MILK. 
 
 block, the pleasant feelings that were coming into his heart 
 flowed out in low music from his lips. He began to sing over 
 his work. All his trouble was gone. 
 
 "This is a great deal better than crying, isn't it?" said 
 papa. 
 
 " Crying for what ?" The little fellow's delight in his work 
 of building a new castle was so great that he had already for- 
 gotten his grief of a few minutes before. 
 
 " Because pussy knocked your castle over." 
 
 " Oh !" A shadow flitted across his face, but was gone in a 
 moment, and he went on building as eagerl}^ as ever. 
 
 " I told him not to cry over spilled milk," said Joe, looking 
 down from the sofa. 
 
 'T wonder if you didn't cry," retorted Herbert, "when your 
 kite-string broke." 
 
 " Losing a kite's another thing," answered Joe, a little dashed 
 at this. "The kite was gone for ever, but your blocks were as 
 good as before, and you only had to build again." 
 
 "I don't see," spoke up papa, "that crying was of any more 
 use in your case than in Herbert's. Sticks and paper are 
 easily found, and you had only to go to work and make another 
 kite." 
 
 Joe looked down at his book and went on reading. By this 
 time the castle was finished. 
 
 " It's ever so much nicer than the one pussy knocked down," 
 said Hetty. 
 
 And so thought Herbert, who walked around the handsome 
 building and looked at it proudly from all sides. 
 
DON'T CRY OVER SPILLED MILK. 135 
 
 *' If pussy knocks that down, I'll — " 
 
 " Build it up again," said papa, finishing the sentence for his 
 little boy. 
 
 '* But, papa, she mustn't knock my casde down. I can't have 
 it," spoke out Herbert, knitdng his forehead. 
 
 "You must watch her, then, and see that she doesn't rub 
 against your buildings and push them over. Litde boys, as 
 well as grown-up people, have to be often on guard. If you 
 go into the street, you have to look out for the carriages, so as 
 not to get run over, and you have to keep out of people's way. 
 In the house, if you go heedlessly about, you will be very apt 
 to run against some one. I have seen a careless child dash 
 suddenly into a room just as a servant was about leaving it 
 with a tray of dishes in her hands. A crash of china and loss 
 to her parents followed." 
 
 "That was me," piped out Hetty; "wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe it was, and I hope it will never happen 
 again." 
 
 "I guess it won't," said Hetty, with just a litde pride at 
 being the heroine of this adventure showing itself in her voice. 
 " But wasn't it a smash-up ?" 
 
 Papa tried to look very serious, but there were twitches in 
 the corners of his mouth that the children's sharp eyes saw. 
 To keep from laughing right out, he jumped up from the floor 
 and went out of the room, saying as he did so, 
 
 "I don't want any more of this crying over spilled milk, as 
 Joe says. If your castles get knocked down, go to work and 
 build them up again." 
 
TIRED OF READING, 
 
 WENTY pages more," said Adelaide White, turning 
 to the back of the book to see how many leaves re- 
 mained. 
 Then she gaped, stretched herself wearily, and looked 
 out of the window for a minute or two. After this she 
 bent down over her book again and went on reading. Her 
 mother, who sat sewing in the room, noticed this. 
 
 "Haven't you read long enough, daughter?" she asked. 
 "I'm 'most through. There are only twenty pages left," 
 Adelaide replied. 
 
 " But if you are tired of reading, why not stop ?" 
 " Oh, I'm bound to finish the book now," said Adelaide. "I 
 have set myself so many pages to read every day, and must 
 o-o through to make up the number." 
 
 "What have you been reading about for the last ten or 
 fifteen minutes ?" asked Mrs. White. 
 
 Adelaide turned back the leaves of her book, and began 
 running her eyes over the pages. 
 
 " Shut your book and tell me," said her mother. 
 
 Adelaide closed her book and tried to remember, but was 
 
 136 
 
r 
 
 ,iiiii;|iii;3ilCii;,;ii;ii.iii;ii,;iiiiiiiiii™ 
 
 X?^--- VN^^V-^ 
 
 TIRED OF KEADIXG. 
 
'U'K 
 
TIRED OF READING. 139 
 
 able to give only a very confused idea of what she had been 
 reading. 
 
 '' Why do you read?" inquired her mother. 
 
 Adelaide was silent. 
 
 " You read to know, do you not .^" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Not to see how many pages you can go over in a given 
 time. One page a day, if remembered, is better than a hun- 
 dred if forgotten. 
 
 '' Put away your book, dear, and go out into the garden, or 
 if you feel like it, run up this seam for me. In an hour from 
 this time you can take up your book again, and then you will 
 get something out of it." 
 
 "I guess you are right," said Adelaide, and she shut her 
 book. "Let me run up the seam for you. I feel just like 
 
 sewmg. 
 
 And in a few moments her light fingers made the needle fly 
 along the seam. All her weariness of mind and body was 
 gone. After an hour spent in sewing, she ran out into the 
 garden and breathed the pure, sweet air, feeling light and 
 happy as a bird. 
 
 In the evening she finished her book, enjoying every page. 
 
 Reading is like eating. Knowledge is food for the mind. If 
 we keep on eating after we have satisfied hunger, our food 
 loses its relish, and the more of it we take into the stomach, 
 the more it burdens and hurts us. And so of reading. So 
 long as we understand and relish our books, if they are of the 
 right kind, reading does us good. But to force ourselves to 
 
140 
 
 TIRED OF READING. 
 
 read when the mind is weary and cannot think — thinking 
 about what we read is like digesting food in the stomach — is 
 to oppress and weaken its powers. 
 
 A Httle reading well understood is better than a great deal 
 that is not. 
 
THE YOUNG SOLDIER 
 
 UB-A-DUB ! rub-a-dub-dub ! 
 
 For half an hour the sound of Robie's drum had 
 come up to me from the room below, and rub-a-dub, 
 rub-a-dub-dub, it still went on. 
 "I must talk to our little soldier-boy," said I to myself, 
 and so went down stairs. 
 
 There he stood, with knapsack and sword and drum, gazing 
 intently on a troop of wooden horsemen arranged on a small 
 round table. His eyes were bright and his countenance full of 
 interest. The soldier-spirit was on him. How handsome he 
 looked ! He stopped drumming as I entered the room, and in 
 a litde while sat down, showing signs of fatigue, for, as I have 
 said, his rub-a-dub had been going on steadily for at least half 
 an hour. 
 
 " Going to be a soldier?" said I. 
 
 '* Yes, ma'am," he answered, promptly. 
 
 '^ And kill people ?" 
 
 " Only enemies," he replied. 
 
 " Have you enemies ?" I asked. 
 
 The question set him to thinking. 
 
142 THE YOUNG SOLDIER, 
 
 "There's Bill Toland," he answered, after a long pause, with 
 a flash of anger in his eyes. '' I guess he's an enemy, for he 
 threw stones at me yesterday, and last week broke my kite all 
 to pieces. He's kicked my marbles out of the ring ever so 
 many times." 
 
 ''Then you would like to kill Bill Toland?" said I. 
 
 •' No, ma'am, I wouldn't, but Fd like to give him a good 
 pounding if I was strong enough," answered Robie. 
 
 " But you are not, so the fight would be unequal, and you'd 
 get the worst of it. It may be that a good pounding, as you 
 say, would be of service to Bill Toland and teach him to let 
 other boys alone. But I'm afraid that if you were strong 
 enough to do the pounding, you would, in punishing one 
 enemy, get yourself into the power of others more malignant 
 and hurtful." 
 
 " Oh ! He has lots of boys to help him as bad as himself. 
 I know that well enough. Bill's one of a gang, and they call 
 themselves Wild Cats." 
 
 '' I'm sorry for that," I answered, '' but when I spoke of other 
 enemies, I did not mean Bill Toland's Wild Cat gang, but the 
 troop of bad feelings, such as anger, hatred and cruelty, that 
 would rush into your soul, if you angrily undertook to punish 
 Bill for throwing stones at you and breaking your kite. You 
 might, if strong enough, pound him sorely, but I'm afraid, after 
 all, that you would get the worst of it from other enemies, who 
 might take you off your guard, and hurt your spirit with the 
 fires of evil passion." 
 
 Robie's face grew grave and thoughtful. 
 
THE YOUNG SOLDIER. 1 43 
 
 "You understand me, do you not?" 1 asked. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," he replied, without hesitation. 
 
 "Bad feeling-s," I said, "are our worst enemies, as I have 
 often told you. Against these every one has to tight, and we 
 must conquer them or they will conquer us. In this warfare 
 we fight by the sword of truth. Do you know what that 
 means ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am," he answered, with his clear eyes looking 
 steadily into mine. 
 
 " A real truth is something from the Bible, for the Bible is 
 God's word, and what God speaks must be the very truth 
 itself. Love your enemies is a truth, and may become like a 
 sword in your mind." 
 
 "How.f*" my boy asked, with his earnest eyes still looking 
 into my face. 
 
 " Why do you feel like giving Bill Toland a good pounding?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Because I'd like to punish him for breaking up my kite and 
 throwing stones at me." 
 
 " That is, you are angry and wish to be revenged on him." 
 
 Robie thought for a little while, and then answered, 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I guess that is it." 
 
 "The Bible says, Love your enemies. Now, if you take that 
 truth as a sword and fight with it, against whom will you fight? 
 Not angrily against Bill Toland, but against the feeling of re- 
 venge in your heart that urges you to hurt him all you can. 
 And as soon as you begin to conquer this feeling kindness will 
 flow in, and you will feel sorry for Bill, and wish to do him good 
 
144 THE YOUNG SOLDIER. ' 
 
 instead of harm. And so you will become a soldier in a better 
 and higher sense than you desired just now. There is a good 
 fight, my dear boy ! We must all be soldiers, and give battle 
 to the enemies that are within our hearts. Anger, selfishness, 
 hatred and all wrong and evil desires, — these are our worst 
 enemies, who are ever seeking to overcome and destroy us, 
 and we must gird on the sword of truth and fight against them, 
 sure of conquest if we are watchful and brave, for in this fight 
 they who are for us are stronger than all who are against us, 
 for God and his angels are on our side." 
 
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