Publicly accessible.
URL:
The text this electronic edition is based on was published before 1923 and is therefore in the public domain according to U.S. copyright law.
This work is part of the collection "Shaping the Values of Youth: Sunday School Books in 19th Century America." The copies consulted in the creation of the electronic editions are owned by the Michigan State University Libraries and the Clarke Historical Library at Central Michigan University. The works have been encoded in Tei.2 conformant markup. They are being made publicly accessible as an educational resource.
Line breaks have not been retained. All unambiguous end-of-line hyphens have been removed. In the case of unambiguous end-of-line hyphens which divide a word between two pages, the hyphen has been removed and the trailing part of the word has been joined to the last line of the preceding page.
This little girl wanted to begin the day right, and now that we are beginning a new year, I wish every one of our readers would follow her example. How many resolved last New-Year's day, that during this year which has just passed, they would be better than they had ever been before, and yet how few have been able to keep their resolutions, and all because they did not begin right.
"It is of no use to try to be good," says one little girl; "the more I try the worse I am."
Ah! my dear child, many an older person can say the same thing. This was what the great and holy Apostle Paul meant when he said, "When I would do good evil is present with me;" yet afterward he could say: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness."
This good fight that he had fought was against that very evil or sin which he said was present with him. And how had he been able to fight? By the help of God. And how had he obtained this help? He tells us by "praying always."
Now, each year is made up of days,
and if you begin each day, as little Annie did, with God,
not doing any thing or speaking to any one, if you can help
it, before you have asked Him to give you His Holy Spirit
to help you to please Him, you will find, at the end of
this year, that although you may have
Many times you will be in haste to get to your lessons in the morning, or to join your brothers and sisters in play, and it will be something of a trial for you to remain in your room for a few minutes. Then, too, some one else may occupy the same room with you, and it will not always be easy to have the room to yourself; but if you are in earnest, you will find some place in the house where you can be quiet, or you can even kneel down in the corner of the room when some one else is there, though it is better to be alone if possible.
These difficulties and many more will arise, and I doubt if you will take the trouble to overcome them, unless you love Jesus so much that you will want to be kept from sin because it displeases Him.
The Apostle Paul loved Him so much that he was willing to lay down his life for Him, and so he did not get tired of the fight.
I am sure, if you think of all that Jesus has done for you, you can not help loving Him, and if you love Him you will want to keep His commandments, and you can not keep His commandments without His Holy Spirit to help you, which you can only obtain by praying for it each day.
Begin
this year, then, with God, and it can not fail to be a
Happy New Year.
"S PEAK gently: it is better farTo rule by love than fear; Speak gently: let no harsh word mar The good we may do here."
"O
"Please, ma'am, what shall I do next?" in such a cheerful tone, and with a face so full of good intentions, that all Mrs. Goodman's impatient feelings vanished at once.
"You may sweep down the stairs and
the hall, now, Bridget, and be very careful to do your
sweeping
"Indeed, ma'am, I swept it as hard as I could."
"But you do not need to sweep so hard. Brush lightly, and sweep out all the corners; and be sure that you do not pass by a part of the carpet, as you have here," said Mrs. Goodman. "Don't be discouraged. You will soon learn to do your work well, if you really try," she added, in an encouraging tone, as she caught Bridget's anxious look.
The girl went to her work. She was good-tempered and industrious, but careless, and so ignorant of every kind of household labor, that, during even the short time she had been in the family, she had taxed Mrs. Goodman's patience severely.
But Mrs. Goodman was a wise and kind-hearted mistress, and she knew that to scold the young servant, or to find any fault with her harshly, was not the way to do her any real good, or to get her to improve herself. Kind words and patient teachings; here a little and there a little; this was Mrs. Goodman's plan with all who were placed under her care.
Bridget had the habit of thinking aloud, or "talking to herself," as the children said; and they were sometimes much amused at her comments on what she saw and heard.
"Only to think!" said she, when she was
brushing down the stairs, "I have been here a whole week,
and not a cross word has mistress said to me.
"O Bridget! what a dust!" exclaimed little Willie Goodman, as he ran into the hall to get his hat. "Will you please to stop sweeping a moment? You will get my clothes dusty. And will you get my hat? It hangs up so high that I can't reach it," he asked. "O dear! my shoe is untied again. Will you please to tie it so as it will stay?"
"Yes, indeed, Master Willie, I will do any thing for you. You are so pleasant," replied Bridget.
"So pleasant? I have not any thing to make me cross, have I?" asked Willie, laughing.
"You had the dust."
"Oh! that is nothing. You must raise a dust when you sweep, I suppose."
Bridget reached Willie's hat, and then took her apron and dusted one of the hall-chairs for him to sit on.
"Please, Willie, what does 'banner' mean?" asked Bridget, while she was tying his shoe.
"A banner is a kind of flag, I believe,"
replied Willie. "Yes, I know it is; for we have a beautiful
one in our Sunday-school; and I tell you, we felt grand
enough when we marched under it last July.
All day Bridget kept thinking of Willie's explanation, and trying to find out what Mr. Goodman meant in his prayer. That there was some connection between the 'banner of love" and the pleasant words and kind deeds of this Christian family she was sure; but she did not understand it, and did not like to ask her mistress.
The question asked by Bridget in the morning set Willie to thinking why it was asked, and when he came home from school in the afternoon, he ran into his mother's room, saying: "Mamma, what did papa mean by the 'banner of love' in his prayer, this morning? We have no such banner."
"Tell me the words he said, Willie, and then, perhaps, I can explain their meaning to you," said his mother.
"He said in his prayer, 'Let Thy banner over us be love," replied Willie.
"God's love has
been over us all day like a banner, has it not, Willie? We
have had a great multitude of blessings that we did not
deserve, just because of His love for us. You remember,
last summer,
"I think I should have wanted to point to the the banner, and read the motto to them," said Willie.
"If we feel that God's banner over us is love, do you not think we ought to be very gentle and kind to each other and to all around us?" asked Mrs. Goodman. "I think we shall, if we love the motto, and wish to march through life under such a banner."
Bridget was in the room lighting a fire while her mistress and Willie were talking, and she thought to herself: "It's the banner of love they are marching under, that makes them never speak cross to me."
Would Bridget be able to say this, dear reader,
if she came to live in
"T
Sunday morning came, and Harry went to Sunday-school, and said his lesson perfectly, and then in the afternoon, when they all went into the church to say the catechism to the clergyman, Harry stood up boldly and answered the question, What is thy duty to thy neighbor? in a loud voice, without missing a word, though, as he had predicted, Will Hartley could not get beyond the first three lines.
"I am afraid you are too proud, Harry," said his mother to him, as he was boasting of his success in the evening; "you must remember that it is very easy for you to learn any thing by heart, and it may be much harder for Will. He seems like a good, industrious boy, and very likely tries more than you do to learn his lessons."
"Oh! yes, mother, he tries hard enough; why, in school, I can learn two lessons while he is learning one."
"Then, if God has given to you a better memory than he has to Will, you should be thankful, not boastful," said his mother.
Though Harry laughed
at Will's dullness, he liked to be with him, he was always
so kind and pleasant, and out of school he was his favorite
play mate. Two or three days after this conversation
"There's Uncle Simon," for that was the name
"Not I, indeed," was Harry's reply; "why, it would take us all the afternoon, and then we should have no time for play. No, no; I dare say he will get along well enough."
"Well, I shall help him, at any rate," said Will; "I can't let such an old man toil along with such a heavy basket while I have strength to carry it for him;" and, without stopping to listen to Harry's remonstrances, he stepped hastily forward, and almost before Uncle Simon knew what he was going to do, he had taken the basket from him, carrying it with one hand while he gave him his other arm to lean upon.
"Thank you, thank you, my boy," said the old man; "I was just thinking that I did not know how I should ever get home with that heavy basket. The man at the store offered to send it for me, if I would wait until night, but I wanted the tea and sugar for my sick daughter, so I thought I would try and carry it myself."
Harry was very much provoked at Will for leaving him so; he had hoped for a long afternoon's play with him, and now that had to be given up, all for the sake of an old man and his basket. So as Will passed him with Uncle Simon, Harry pointed his finger at him, saying, in a taunting tone: "Oh! your most obedient basket-carrier to his majesty; I hope you will get a sixpence for your pains."
But Will went steadily on, without minding what Harry said, and it is to be hoped that Uncle Simon was too deaf to hear what would have pained him so much.
Harry went home thoroughly out of humor. As he entered the sitting-room he was glad to find no one but his sister Julia, for he could grumble to her as much as he liked.
"I declare," said he, as he threw himself into the easy-chair, "I never saw such a boy as Will Hartley in my life. We were coming home together, and were going to have such a fine play, when we met Uncle Simon, and what must Will do but just go and carry his basket and walk home with him; and so all our fun was spoiled."
Harry had not perceived that the door was open into the dining-room, so that his mother, who was there, heard all that he said. Perhaps if he had known this he would not have gone on grumbling, and wondering why old men and heavy baskets must come along just as he was going to have a nice play.
In a few minutes his mother came into the room and took her work, which she had laid down a few minutes before Harry came in. "So it seems that Will Hartley understands what his duty to his neighbor is, if he can not repeat all that long question," said she quietly.
For a moment Harry was silent, quite
abashed; but he was never very long without an excuse,
so
"Isn't there?" said his mother; "suppose you repeat it."
Harry began, quite confident of gaining his point: "My duty to my neighbor is, to love him as myself, and to do to all men as I would they should do to me ---"
Here his mother stopped him: "Don't you think, Harry, if your grandfather were carrying home a heavy basket, you would be glad to have a little boy help him?"
"Oh! yes, mother; but then my grandfather would not be obliged to carry home any basket."
"You don't know, my son; he might be obliged to do so, and if he were, you would be glad to have some one else help him; so that Will only did what he or any other boy would be glad to have done for his grandfather. But if you will go on with your answer, you will find still another part of it which your friend Will obeyed."
Harry went on, until he came to the words: "To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters ---" here his mother stopped him again. "Now mother," said he, "You surely don't mean to call Uncle Simon, that poor old man, who lives in a little house with only two rooms in it, one of my betters?"
"Why not?" said his mother;
"is it only to those who live in a larger house that those
words
His mother
spoke so seriously that Harry did not feel like trying to
excuse himself any more, and besides, he felt convinced
that he had not acted rightly. He did not feel as well
satisfied with himself as he had done on the Sunday evening
before, and he inwardly resolved that if he ever had
another chance he would show some respect to Uncle Simon,
and that he would never again laugh at Will Hartley for not
knowing his catechism.
A little girl, whose mother had always told her the truth, and in whom she trusted, went with her one day to a large town. The child had been used to live in the quiet country, and the bustle and the noise were alarming to her, for she was not strong, and her head soon ached, and her limbs grew weary, as they entered the town. A great crowd was gathered together to see some show in the street, and Lucy pressed her mother's hand, for her heart beat, and she was frightened.
"Do not be afraid, Lucy," said her mamma; "I will not take you into danger--you are quite safe; keep my hand--nothing shall hurt you." And the child believed her mother and was happy. Well, this is faith in a mother whom she could see. It would be harder to trust in one she could not see.
Clouds had been gathering for some time, and soon the rain fell. The mother looked at her delicate little girl, and said: "Lucy, dear, I dare not take you any further; I must go, for I have business to do elsewhere. I must leave you in this shop; don't go away from it, and I will be back as soon as I can; but my errands will take me some time."
The child looked into her mother's eyes and said, "You won't forget me, I know;" and after a kiss and a blessing, the mother left her under the care of the master of the shop.
At first she was amused by seeing the gay ribbons measured, and the ladies coming in to do their shopping. But after a while she began to long to see her mamma, and to hope that she would come before dusk, for it was winter-time. She had a bun to eat and was not hungry, but she was very tired. A little girl older than herself now came into the shop, and they began to talk. Lucy told her how she was to wait there for her mamma, and how glad she should be when she came.
"Perhaps she will forget you," said the little girl.
"I am sure she will not do that," replied Lucy.
"How can you be sure? she
"She promised," was the child's reply; "she never broke her promise yet."
Another hour passed away. It seemed like a day to the weary little one. The gay customers had gone home, and the shopmen were putting away the goods. The gas-lamps were lighted, and still the mother had not returned. A woman came into the shop at this moment whom Lucy knew. She lived near her father's house, and seeing the little girl alone, offered to take her back in her pony-gig.
"No," replied the child; "mamma will come for me; I must wait."
At length the mother came, and oh! what love was there in her kiss to her trusting, patient child! The confidence of faith she had shown pleased her; and when they were once more by their fireside at home, and Lucy was nestling in her bosom, her mamma told her that this was the very kind of trust which God required of His children--to try no means to save themselves, but according to His word--to believe alone on the Lord Jesus for salvation, and to trust His promise which says, that "Whosoever believeth shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life." Without such faith, "it is impossible to please God."
"O
"Are you,
my darling?" said her papa; "then I will carry you. I am
afraid our long walk has been
"What do you think of having a donkey for her?" said her mamma. "If you could get one that is well trained, she might ride it, and accompany the rest of us on all our rambles."
"The very thing," said Mr. Seeley; "I will see about getting one to-morrow." Here Belle and Julia came scampering up the path, full of life and spirits; and they all went in the house to tea.
Nothing was said to Lucy about the plan of
getting the donkey, as Mr. Seeley thought it might be
several days before he could find one which would
"Yes," said Belle, "don't you know that papa said he would as lief carry you as not?" for she had not any idea that her mamma thought of any other way of mounting the hill.
The children were all very much surprised, therefore, when they saw one of the men lead a little gray donkey off the boat and give the bridle to their papa, who came toward them, leading the little animal.
The three little girls ran toward him; even Lucy forgetting her weakness in her eagerness to find out about the donkey.
"O papa!" exclaimed Belle, "where did you get such a little beauty, and who is he for, and may we ride him?"
"That is the
way that papa has contrived for taking
Belle and Julia looked a little blank at this.
"For Lucy!" they said, "and can not we ride him at all?"
"Oh! yes," said their papa; "you may ride him sometimes; but then you know you are strong and well, and able to run about without getting tired, and Lucy is not; and so I have bought the donkey for her, that she need not be left at home so often when you go off to take your rambles in the woods."
"Oh! that's good!" exclaimed Belle and Julia together, for the thought that Lucy could not go with them had taken very much away from the pleasure of their daily walks, and so they were perfectly satisfied to see their papa seat Lucy upon the pretty little side-saddle, which was on the donkey's back, and lead her off, while they followed with their mamma.
At first Lucy felt a little afraid, but the donkey was so gentle, and walked along so quietly, that in a few minutes she begged her papa to give her the bridle, and let her guide him all herself. Mr. Seeley did so, and the donkey carried her up the hill as easily and as pleasantly as her own papa could have done. Belle and Julia opened the gate for her, and the little animal walked straight to the house with her, just as if he had been always accustomed to go there.
Then Lucy begged her papa to lift her off, and let Belle and Julia have a ride; so they each in turn mounted the donkey, and he trotted with them round the lawn as if he liked it. The children could hardly be persuaded to leave their new pet when the tea-bell rang; but their mamma told them that he wanted rest a little while, and besides, he was hungry, and would like very much to eat some of the nice clover on the lawn. So Mr. Seeley took the bridle from the donkey's mouth, and left him to find his supper where he could, while the children went to get theirs in the dining-room.
Belle was the first to leave the table and run out to the piazza; but in a few minutes she came running in, exclaiming: "Papa, mamma, every body, do come and see what the donkey is eating." They all followed her to the piazza, and there they saw him putting his head over the fence which separated their lawn from the next field, and eating some thistles which were growing there.
"Oh! what a donkey!" said Mrs. Seeley, "to leave the beautiful sweet clover, which is growing here, to eat those prickly things."
"Don't they hurt him, mamma?" said Julia. "See how the sharp thorns stick into the sides of his mouth as he draws the thistles toward him."
"Oh! no," said Mr. Seeley, answering for their
mamma, who seemed as much surprised at the donkey's taste
as the children were, "the thistles don't
So the pretty saddle and bridle were put in the house, and the little animal was led into the orchard, where a pail of water was given him, and he was left to eat or sleep as he liked; while the little folks went with their papa into the house, where Lucy seated herself on his knee, the place which was generally given to her because she was the invalid, and Belle and Julia brought their little chairs and sat on each side.
"Now," said Mr. Seeley, "what am I to do? Must I buy three donkeys, one for each of you, or do you think you can all be willing to use this together? Can Julia and Belle let Lucy ride it whenever she feels like it, and when they are going too far for her to walk, and never be unhappy about it? and can Lucy be willing sometimes to stay at home and let her sisters ride?"
"O papa!" said Belle and Julia both at once, "I am sure that we shall never want Lucy to stay at home to let us ride, for we shall have chances enough to ride the donkey without that."
"And I am sure," said Lucy, "that I could not enjoy him at all if my sisters could not ride him sometimes."
"Then it is all settled," said their papa, "and you are to enjoy Tote together."
"Oh! is that his name?" said Julia; "I don't think it is pretty at all; I wish we could give him some other."
"But," said her papa, "people never give fancy names to donkeys; only plain and homely ones--and Tote, you know, means to carry."
"Does it?" said Julia; and all the children seemed more satisfied with the name when they knew that it had a meaning.
The children never forgot their promise to their papa, not to quarrel about their new pet, and they enjoyed him all the more because they were willing to share the pleasure of riding with each other. For when little children indulge envious feelings, and are displeased because their brothers and sisters have some pleasure which they have not, they make themselves more unhappy than the loss of the pleasure would make them. Little children who love one another, as the Saviour wishes them to do, will not wish always to have every thing that their brothers and sisters have, but will try to be happy in seeing their pleasure.
Every
morning Julia and Belle and Lucy went into the orchard to
feed Tote. They would gather clover-blossoms, and their
mamma gave them a pair of scissors to cut thistles with, so
that they need not prick their fingers, and with a hat full
of these, they
After Tote had eaten all he wanted, his saddle and bridle were put on, and Belle and Julia took turns in riding him to the gate and back again; and sometimes when the boy was going to the village, they would go too with the donkey, and ride and walk in turn with each other. This was the time when Lucy rested. But in the afternoon, when they went off for their long rambles in the woods, Lucy always rode and the rest walked. Before the summer was ended though, Lucy became so much stronger, that her mamma would often let her walk a little in the woods, and then Belle or Julia rode.
The air and the rides
did Lucy so much good, that before the cold weather came,
she was almost as strong and well as her sisters, and that
made them all very happy. But what made them happiest of
all was the spirit of love and kindness which they showed
to each other. Do you want to have your home like heaven,
my little reader? Then be loving. No matter if your
brothers and sisters are not willing to try to be loving
too, do you try for yourself. The Bible says: "Whosoever
loveth is born of God, for God is love." So the more we
love, the more we are like God, and the better are we
prepared to live with Him.
"A
"What ring was it, mamma?" asked the child.
"My diamond one, dear. I should be very sorry indeed to lose it, for you know how poor papa gave it to me, Amy."
"Yes, mamma, I know. Are--are you quite sure you put it there?"
"Quite, my dear; and as nobody has been in the room since, excepting yourself, I thought perhaps you might have meddled with it."
"No--n--o, mamma, I--I did not," said Amy in a low voice.
Mrs. Mackenzie did not notice the child's hesitation, or see the blushing cheek that was turned from her, as Amy quickly left the room.
Though search was made throughout the house, in every likely and unlikely place, the ring was not found, and its strange disappearance remained a mystery. Mrs. Mackenzie noticed that her little daughter's cheek looked paler than usual, and that her appetite was gone. For a few days she did not feel much concern; but when more than a week had passed away, and Amy still continued listless and melancholy, her mother became alarmed. A physician was called in, and a few days after, the once merry, laughing Amy was stretched on a bed of sickness: she had become prey to scarlatina. Long and anxiously Mrs. Mackenzie watched by the side of her only child, and earnestly did she pray that God would save her darling, or take her to Himself.
The mother's prayer was answered--her little Amy began to recover. One day as Mrs. Mackenzie was coming into the room, she heard childish sobs mingled with broken accents of prayer. Wondering what could be the cause of her grief, she drew near.
"Amy, my dear, tell me what is the matter."
"O mamma! mamma! I
have something to tell you.
"Amy, my child, this is indeed sad, sad news to me. Is there not One whose forgiveness you have to ask more than mine?" said Mrs. Mackenzie in a sorrowful tone.
"Yes, mamma,
God's; but I could not pray
"Thank God you did not, my child. You have had a lesson which I trust will prove a lasting benefit to you. 'Speak the truth,' is a maxim you must ever remember. You have not been happy, Amy, since you have broken one of God's laws."
"No, oh! no; I never shall forget how wretched I was. I felt unworthy of your smile, and every kind word you spoke to me only made me worse; and then when I was so ill, mamma, I thought I should die, and papa was looking, and kind angels too, on me; but they all shook their heads sadly, and left me alone. Oh! I never will hide any thing from you again."
"Then you must ask God to help you, Amy; for without His aid our good resolutions are useless. Shall we pray together, my love, that He will watch over and help you?"
And the mother
knelt beside the little lamb brought back to Jesus' fold,
and angels and arch-angels rejoiced over the one sinner
repenting. Dear
You are sure to have sorrow and
suffering in
The day my friend saw the shepherds was a cold day. Some of the lambs were quite strong and full of play; but some of them were very young and tender. The cold chilled them, and they could not walk. So the shepherds took up the little lambs and put them in their bosoms. But they did not smother them. They left their heads out, so that they could breathe as well. But they kept them snug and warm. It was a pleasing sight to see an old shepherd with his long gray beard, and his bosom full of lambs. Just so the Bible says of Christ. "He shall gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom." Many little children have loved Christ; and He has never let such perish. He is as good to little children as to old people. He says: "I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me."
Among the sheep were some old
and feeble ones. They could not walk much. If the way was
miry or steep, they could hardly go along. So the shepherds
would come and put their crooks under their bodies, just
behind their fore-legs, and help them along. They treated
them with great gentleness and care. Just so "the Good
Shepherd has pity on the weak, and gently helps them
along." He never
O
She had often
wished for a sister or brother to
But when she was allowed to hold him in her lap, to rock him to sleep, and, above all, when he smiled in answer to her loving words, she thought she was the happiest little girl in the world.
When he became old enough to sit on the floor and play with playthings, it was her great delight to sit down by his side and amuse him, or to build houses of blocks for him to knock down.
But after a while he learned how to creep, and to make his way around the rooms, and then Marian's troubles commenced.
Her room was a small one adjoining her mamma's, and she took great pride in keeping it in perfect order. Her doll's bedstead and bureau stood in one corner, her little book-shelves in another, and various pretty little ornaments which kind friends had given her, were placed upon the little table.
Her mamma, pleased to see her little daughter disposed to be orderly, had encouraged her by allowing her to arrange her things just as she liked.
Now,
however, that Master Fred was able to make his way around,
it was not so easy to keep him from meddling with them. He
was often in his mamma's room, and the crow of delight
which he would give when he saw the door of Marian's
room
However, he was generally discovered before he had been able to do much mischief, and nurse would try to put the things away as nicely as they were before; though Marian generally discovered that they were not quite as she had left them; and she would give a little sigh of vexation as she proceeded to rearrange them.
One day when Fred was nearly two years old, and had learned to walk about the room without any chair or any one to lead him, Marian happened to come home a little earlier than usual. She ran up to the nursery, but there was no one there but the nurse, who was busily sewing.
"Where's Fred?" was
Marian's first question. "I don't know," said the nurse;
"he was here a
Marian passed through the open door into her mamma's room. Her mamma had been called down to see a friend in the parlor, so she was not there, neither was Fred. Marian's heart beat quickly as she saw the door of her own room open, and thought of what might be the state of some of her cherished possessions, if little Fred had hold of them. Sure enough, there sat the little fellow in the highest state of excitement. He had pulled her work-basket, in the first place, from the table, and scattered its contents in every direction. Then he had opened the drawers of the little bureau and thrown every thing out of them on the floor, and now he was engaged in washing dolly's face with a wet sponge, which he had brought with him from the nursery. Poor dolly's eyebrows and rosy cheeks had quite disappeared, and her red lips were nearly ready to follow.
"O Freddy! Freddy!"
exclaimed Marian, "you naughty boy; I declare this is too
bad; I can't keep a single thing in order, and just because
you are allowed to come here;" and so she went on scolding
while she took the sponge and doll from him in no gentle
manner, and proceeded to pick up her scattered treasures.
Fred, who at the first sound of her voice had turned with a
smile of pleasure to welcome her home, was quite frightened
to hear her
"Just see, mamma," said Marian, as her mother entered, "what Fred has done; he has ruined my doll, I declare I wish--" and unable to say any more she buried her face in her mamma's lap, and joined her cries to Fred's.
His nurse now came to take him away and Mrs. Storms had time to comfort Marian. She felt very sorry that poor dolly should be so spoiled, but she promised her a new head,and this time of china, so that the paint could not wash off, and she helped her put her work-basket in order again, so that by the time that was done, Marian's tears had all disappeared, and she was quite ready to have a merry play with Fred.
A few weeks after this, Mrs. Storms took Fred to spend two or three days with his grandmamma. Marian felt rather sadly as she saw them drive from the door; but it was just school-time, so she had not time to feel lonely very long.
But when she came home
from school, and went up as usual to the nursery, and there
was no little brother to welcome her, and then passed
through to her mamma's room, and there saw the little empty
crib, it seemed almost as if Fred had gone never to come
back. "What if he were dead," she thought and then the
remembrance of that day when she had spoken so harshly came
before her, when she
The voice of one of her little playmates, who was down-stairs calling her, roused her from her sad feelings. She went down, and had a pleasant afternoon of play, so that she did not miss Fred again until she went to bed. Then she had always been accustomed to take a last good-night kiss as he lay in his crib, sleeping so sweetly and looking so lovely, and now his crib was empty. How she longed to see him there again, and how sure she was that she would not scold him again, no matter what he might do!
She did not forget how sadly she had felt at his absence when he came home, nor her resolution to be very patient with him. And whenever she was tempted to be cross because he interfered with her, as he sometimes did, she remembered how she felt when she saw his empty crib, and then she tried to be gentle and loving.
It was not always easy, but she prayed for
help, for she was in earnest, and God heard her prayers,
for he is always ready to give his Holy Spirit, to help
little children to do right.
W
All boys understand this, but few can form any idea of the intense excitement Allen Richards felt, as he looked out for the first time upon the fields, gardens, and trees covered with snow. He was ten years old, but all his life had been passed in South-America, where his father had been engaged in business; and though Mr. Richards had often told his son of the pleasures of his boyhood, among the snow-clad hills of New-England, Allen had very little idea how they would really look.
Now he and his mother were spending the winter with his grand-parents in the very house where his father's boyhood had been passed, and ever since the cold winds of November had begun to blow, he had anxiously looked for a snow-storm.
The autumn had been an unusually mild one, however, and as morning after morning he had eagerly looked out for the snow, and had been disappointed, he had almost despaired of ever seeing it. But now it had really come, and he rushed down to the dining-room, as soon as he was dressed, to see if there would be time for him to have a run out of doors before breakfast; but he found his grand-father there with the Bible open before him; so he knew that the prayer-bell would ring very soon, and there would be no time to go out then.
"Well, my boy," said his grandfather, as he
saw
"Yes," said his grandfather, "on one condition: that you will promise to finish it, if you commence it."
"Of course, grandpapa, I should want to finish it," replied Allen, quite surprised at his grandfather's conditions; but he had no time to discuss it, for his grandmamma made her appearance just then, and that was the signal for the prayer-bell to ring, to summon the rest of the family.
Allen's thoughts were so full of his expected pleasure that he would not have paid much attention to his grandpapa's reading, if he had not chosen a most interesting chapter about the resting of the Ark, and God's promise to Noah as he left it.
After Mr.
Richards had read these words, "While the earth remaineth,
seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter,
day and night, shall not cease," he closed the Bible and
said: "We have this morning another example of how God
keeps His promises. This first snow-storm shows us that
winter is again here, and just so surely as it has
followed
"How grandpapa draws some lesson out of every thing!" thought Allen, as he knelt with the rest, and tried to join in his heart with his grandfather, as he offered up thanksgiving to God, for His faithfulness and truth.
Fortunately for Allen, this was Saturday, and there was no school, so that he could enjoy his new pleasure to his heart's content. The first thing he did after breakfast was to get his sled, which had been given to him a month before, on his birthday, in anticipation of the winter's amusement, and run with it for his cousin Walter, who lived quite near his grandfather's, to ask him to show him how to ride down-hill.
There was a famous hill in the orchard just behind his grandfather's barn, and there the boys went with their sleds, and Allen soon became as skillful as Walter in guiding his sled past the trees and stones in his way. He thought that he had never enjoyed any thing so much before.
They were in the midst of the fun, when they heard their grandfather calling them.
"Oh! I know
what he wants," said Allen; "he is going to help us make a
snow-man. Come, Walter.'
He had chosen a nice place in the field at the side of the barn, nicely sheltered from the sun and rain, and there he told them they could make their snow-image. Walter had tried the winter before to make one, but he had become tired of it before he had half-finished it; but now he was sure that he would like it, because Allen was here to make it with him. Then their grandfather showed them how to pile the snow closely together, and by dinner-time they had nearly made their man tall enough to put his head on. After dinner Allen proposed that they should not return to their man, but have some more fun riding down-hill. Walter readily consented, and their grandfather laughed when he saw them going off towards the orchard with their sleds.
"I wonder," said he to himself, "if they will have perseverance enough to finish the snow-man."
The boys were not seen again that afternoon, however, until just before dark, when they came drawing their sleds home and well powdered with snow, owing to their frequent tumbles from their sleds.
"I have not forgotten my promise, grandpapa," said Allen, as he met his grandfather coming out of the barn, "but I did want to have a little more fun in riding down-hill. Can't I finish my man on Monday?"
"Oh! yes," said his grandfather, "I dare say there will be plenty of snow left then; but now you had better pour some water over him, which will pack the snow closer and freeze to-night, so that it will be hard enough by Monday.
There was a spring quite near the barn, and Allen and Walter each brought a pail half-full of water, and with a tin dipper, which they borrowed from the kitchen, they poured it upon the snow which they had piled for the body of their man.
On Monday there was another snow-storm, but the water had frozen, and their man was so firm that his shape was not spoiled at all; so that on Tuesday they worked at him again, after school, and on Wednesday he was all ready to have his face carved. This their grandfather did for them, making with a trowel a nose and mouth which would not have disgraced a Chinese sculptor. For eyes the boys stuck in two black walnuts, and then their image was complete. He was the admiration of the neighborhood, and the boys used to come from quite a distance to see him. He lasted all through the winter; for when an occasional thaw would reduce his size somewhat, Allen and Walter would add more snow; and once when the sun melted off his nose, their grandfather kindly cut him another.
The boys enjoyed their snow-man very much;
and besides all the pleasure which Allen had from the snow
that winter, it taught him two very important
I
"Do you go to school, Willie?"
A gruff "no" was the only reply.
"Can you read?"
"No, not much, and don't want to."
The lady pitied the boy. He had no encouragement or instruction at home. His parents were very poor, and what is worse, vicious, and the people with whom he lived saw little to encourage them to instruct him. After a few kind inquiries: "Will you call a minute as you go back, Willie?" he assented, with a look of wonder, and she procured a nice New Testament, and wrote his name in it. In due time he called, seemed pleased at the interest the lady felt in him, and promised her that he would try and pick out at least one verse a day in his New Testament, and that he would go to meeting the next Sabbath.
A year has passed. Among those who steadily worship at yonder sanctuary, there is not a more punctual or attentive worshipper than Willie H--- I love to watch him, as he sits with his eyes riveted on the minister, seeming to drink in every word he utters.
"He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth.--Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?"
In one part of it there was a rock, which had been hollowed out, so as to form a cave; this had been done, so that when this rich man or any of his family should die, their bodies might have a safe and beautiful resting-place.
But before it was needed for any one
for whom it had been prepared, One whom this rich man loved
more than all on earth beside was put to death by cruel
men, as a criminal. He knew that his dear Friend was pure
and holy, and after His death he begged to have His body
that he might bury it.
The next day none of the friends came to visit the place, but early in the morning of the day after, some women might have been been seen entering the garden, bringing sweet spices to place in the tomb of their beloved one. How great was their astonishment, as they approached it, to see the heavy stone which had been placed at the entrance, rolled away--the body of their Friend gone. One of them, whose name was Mary, ran, full of distress and fear, to tell other friends the strange story. But she had hardly gone when a bright angel appeared to the other women, and told them that their loved one whom they had buried there in so much sorrow was alive again to die no more. Oh! how joyfully they ran to tell the other friends the good news.
After a while Mary came back slowly and sorrowfully. She feared that the body of her dear Friend had been stolen by the cruel men who had put Him to death. She stood by the tomb weeping, and then she stooped down and looked in, and this time she saw two angels, who said to her:
"Woman, why weepest thou?"
She said: "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have lain him."
As she raised her head, some one came to her and asked the same question:
"Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?"
She thought it was the gardener, and she said:
"Sir, if thou hast borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away."
His only answer was, "Mary;" but at that one word her heart leaped for joy, for there was but one who could ever speak so tenderly to her.
"Master!" was her reply.
It was the dear
One whose body had lain in that tomb, and who was now alive
again. That was a joyful day, not only for her, but for us
and all the world, for He who had thus risen from the dead
was her Saviour and our Saviour. He had died on the cross,
that all who believe in Him may have their sins forgiven
and live with Him forever. Now, when all the trees and
flowers are bursting forth into new beauty, we keep the
Easter-feast as a special time of rejoicing, that our
Saviour has died for us and risen again, and is now
inviting us to come to Him and be His children forever.
S
But he was so wicked that no one dared go near him. There was, however, a little boy on board of the ship who was called Bob. His business was to wait on the captain and the mate, and keep the cabin in order.
He felt very sorry for the captain, and
wanted to do something for him, but was almost afraid to go
into his presence; but after a while he ventured to
"Captain, how are you?"
In a surly manner he answered:
"What's that to you? Be off!"
The next day the boy went again, and in the same sweet voice said:
"Captain, hope you are better."
By this time the captain was subdued by his pain and answered very differently from what he did the day before.
"O Bob! I'm very bad--been bad all night."
"Captain, please to let me wash your hands and face; it will refresh you very much."
The captain was pleased, and allowed Bob to bathe his head for some time; after that Bob shaved the captain and got him some tea, and made him as comfortable as he could.
By degrees Bob gained a great influence over the captain, and could make him do almost any thing he wished. The poor captain grew worse every day, and soon knew he could not get well. He became greatly alarmed, for he knew how wicked he had been. One day the captain said to Bob:
"O Bob! what shall I do? I'm a great sinner. Alas! Bob, I'm a lost man!"
"Oh! no, master," said the boy, "Jesus Christ can save you."
"No, Bob, no; I
can not see the least prospect
The captain and Bob had a great many talks together, and one day Bob brought his Testament, and the captain asked him to read some passages that told about sinners and salvation. And so Bob read for two hours and more, while the captain stretched his head out of the bed and listened with great eagerness.
Thus from day to day this little boy read the Testament to the sick and dying captain. After some days the captain asked Bob to pray with him and for him. This Bob was glad to do. One morning the captain called Bob and told him he had seen the Saviour.
"Yes," he said, "I saw Him smile. O my
child! He smiled on me--on me, Bob. O my dear boy! He
smiled on wretched, guilty me. My heart was too full to
speak, but I ventured to look up, when I heard Him say,
hanging as He did on the cross--O Bob! what sounds were
these? Shall I ever hear his beloved voice again?--I heard
Him say:
Bob was very
much affected, and burst into a flood of tears, but he was
glad his master had found the Saviour. In a few days the
captain became very
That night the captain died and went to dwell with Jesus.
W
"Come, let us try to match ribbon-grass," said Esther Hunt to one of the little visitors, "I never yet could find two leaves quite alike."
"Nor I, nor I," echoed every voice.
"How strange that is," added Esther; "but, after all, it is just like girls. There, I am taller than Mary, and stouter than Annie, and not half so good as Cousin Jane, who lies so patiently on her couch all day, and never complains of the pain she suffers."
"I am sure I would not wish to be like any one but myself," said Ellen Price, with a haughty toss of her head, and a look at her flounced frock, which strongly contrasted with the plainer dresses of the other girls.
"Indeed, then, I would," interrupted little Fanny, "for I am always wishing to grow like mamma."
"If mamma heard you say that, Fanny," said Esther, "she would tell you to be like some other Person, who is altogether lovely."
"Oh! I know that," replied Fanny hastily; "but now let us try to match our ribbon-grass."
More than half an hour was spent
in the search, but with the usual result; no exact matches
were found. Sometimes, indeed, a joyous shout announced
Cousin Jane was easily found, for weakness confined her to the sofa, and kept her from joining in the active labors she would have so much enjoyed. But as Esther said, she never complained, and was always ready to help the children in any way she could. They now referred to her the question under debate: why no two leaves were quite alike, or two faces exactly similar.
"I think it is very good of God to give us so much variety in nature," said Cousin Jane; "we should soon weary of sameness; and then, we have a proof of His great power in making so many things nearly but not exactly alike. What variety, also, there is in the minds of each of us, while enough of likeness remains to enable us to feel for others. You remember how the Bible tells us Abraham was remarkable for faith, Jacob for power in prayer, Moses for meekness, and Solomon for wisdom, and tells us also that it is to One greater than Solomon we must go to have sin forgiven, and be made, not like one another, but like Himself. Shall I repeat to you a poem I have been learning, or would you like to hear a story?"
"Oh! please,
Jane, let us have the story," cried
In a soft, clear voice Cousin Jane began: "There was once a large garden where a great many flower-beds lay side by side. These beds, however, were not filled with flowers, but weeds. The owner of this garden said that long ago a single weed would not have dared to spring up in any of the beds, every one of which had lovely flowers blossoming, and sweet fruit ripening to delight all who visited the spot. But some enemy came and spoiled the entire place by sowing a few weed-seeds, which soon sprang up and so choked the flowers that they withered and died.
"A great number of boys and girls lived near this garden, and the master of it said that each of them should have a bed to take care of and cultivate. He told them a very kind and skillful gardener would be there, to whom they must come whenever they wanted any thing, for that, without his assistance, he was sure they never could succeed in pulling up the weeds and getting flowers to bloom in their stead. Besides this, he showed them a picture of the most lovely garden that could be, and told them to go and make theirs like it. The children were delighted, each fancying that his own portion would soon be more beautiful than the rest. But you would be surprised to see the strange way in which they began their work.
"One boy, a strong little fellow, commenced to pull up the weeds as fast as he could; he tugged without success, for the roots were very deep down in the earth. What ought he to have done? Of course he should have gone to the good gardener and asked his help. But no; he thought of another plan; so he fetched a little sword he was in the habit of playing with, and, stooping very low, cut the stem of every week just above the earth. Then taking his rake, he smoothed the ground so nicely that you would never suppose a weed had been there. 'Now, see,' said he to his companions, 'how quickly I have cleared my plat without the least help from the gardener. As to flowers, I do not much care for them; a nice clean garden is all I want.' Foolish little boy, the sunshine and the rain, which cause the flowers to spring elsewhere, will cover your plat with the weeds that are hiding under the soil.
"A girl near him having seen all this, said: 'I need not take the trouble of pulling up the weeds from my garden: they really look rather pretty; and then, it will spare me so much pains to leave them there. I shall just get some paper-flowers to stick among the weeds, and so my bit of ground shall soon be quite gay.' But very much ashamed she will feel by and by, for the first gust of wind will destroy all her painted flowers, while the weeds will remain in all their ugliness.
"At a short
distance a very gentle little girl sat on the ground
crying. All the morning she had been trying to pull up a
single weed called Pride, and often thought she had
succeeded, but the next moment was sure to find a new shoot
springing up from the earth. In weariness and despair she
now burst into tears. She felt in her pocket for the
picture of the garden as it ought to be, drew it out, and
spread it open on her lap. There she was surprised to see
that, instead of the ugly weed Pride, a lovely little
violet flower called Humility seemed to grow, and suddenly
she thought: 'I must go to the gardener.' So, folding up
her picture, she set off to look for him. The gardener was
never far off, though the children sometimes fancied he
was, because they did not always see him; and he kindly
came to meet the little girl. How her heart beat when she
began to speak to him. 'Please, sir, do not be angry with
me for troubling you, but I do so long to have my little
garden like the pattern-picture.' 'I am glad to hear you
say so,' said the kind gardener. 'But please, sir, I can
never make it as I wish; all the morning I have tried to
get up a single weed, but it will not come up.' 'I saw all,
my child, and was pleased; but you should have come to me
at once. Let us now go both together.' So he led her gently
until they came to her plat, and then, putting his hand on
hers, told her to try again. How wonderful! the tall red
weed yielded to that
"'Oh! please, sir,' said the little girl, 'do come to help me every day, for I am a poor weak child.' 'Let the little child then look for my help every day, and it shall never be refused.'
"Each morning after that the little girl might be seen weeding her garden, but a strong arm was always there to assist. Sometimes she worked hard to remove a black weed called Selfishness; it had long roots and a bitter taste; and when at length, by the gardener's help, it was pulled up, the plant of Love filled its place. This flower was a sweet one; for, having come from a foreign land, it always turned its blossoms to its former home, just as the marigold follows the sun. Its leaves had the sweetest perfume, and it also possessed the power of healing many sorts of wounds.
"The little girl's
flower-bed began to look beautiful now, though she still
was always trying to improve it. Here and there, where a
poisonous plant called Unbelief had formerly grown, a
sky-blue blossom called Faith might be seen, and each day
the child used to run to the gardener and say, 'Please,
sir, make that plant grow larger.' The old border of sharp
thorns and great roots of bitterness was also removed, and
the green leaves of Peace occupied
"Let it not be thought, however, that this little girl was the only one in the entire garden who asked the gardener's aid. Other girls and boys who had labored many weary days to improve their plats, without much success, were glad to seek counsel and help. Under his care, flowers soon took the place of weeds. In one, the rosy hues of Love were mostly seen; in another the eyebright Faith, the golden petals of Hope, or the white blossoms of Purity, while here and there a sober-looking plant called Patience supported the twining tendrils of Gentleness. Each child seemed more pleased with his neighbor's progress than with his own, and always fancied that his garden was less like the pattern-picture than theirs. The reason of this was that every one knew his own portion best, and was used to search out the weeds which so often sprang up there. But the greatest wonder of all was, that while the same seeds were sown in the flower-bed of each good child, and every plat after a time began to bear a strong likeness to the copy which the Master had given them, there were not two alike."
The story was ended,
and so was the daylight; but the children sat and chatted a
little longer. It did not require much guessing to find out
the meaning
"O
This little incident led me to think
of some hints
1. Read the Bible regularly. A good man of old says: "I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my necessary food." This is the true idea. The Bible is daily bread, to be taken regularly, that the seed may grow thereby.
2. Read the Bible attentively. The
3. Read the Bible as God's book; not merely because father or mother wishes you to read it, but for a better reason--because God speaks to you in the Bible. When I have seen a little girl run in, her eyes sparkling with joy, crying, "O mother! here's a letter from father to me, for my name is on the outside," I always feel a wish she might thus look on the Bible, for it is a letter from our Father in heaven. So feel and so read, and you will not grow weary of the good book.
But I will tell you what I do blame Henry for: when he plays, he does not play cheerfully, or try to make those who play with him happy. I will tell you an instance of this.
One afternoon his grandmother
invited him and all his little cousins to come and take tea
with her, and as it was a stormy day and they could not run
in the garden, she allowed the children to play in her
large, old-fashioned kitchen. Harry's cousin Edward
proposed that they should play blind-man's buff, and all
the children agreed but Harry; he preferred
puss-in-the-corner, but no one would join him
Now have any of my little readers ever known any one like Harry? Had they ever been like him themselves?
He spoiled the afternoon's play by four things: he wanted every one to give up to him; he was ill-tempered about it; he was unjust to his cousin, for he accused him of cheating; he was unfair himself, and pretended that he was blinded when he could see. But he did more than make his companions unhappy--he displeassed God; for God sees little children when they are at play, just as well as when they are at their lessons. The Bible says: "Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God"--that is, do every thing for His service and to please Him. Now, little children can glorify God in their plays, as well as in any thing else that they do. When they are ready to please their companions, and try to be good-tempered and honest when they play, they glorify God, just as much as when they try to learn their lessons or to obey their parents.
They should never forget that there are times when they should not play at all: when the baby is asleep and their mother wishes them to be quiet, or when they are in school, or on God's holy day.
Now I will tell you some of the ways by which you can play to the glory of God:
1. Play at the right time.
2. Be willing to give up your wishes to others.
3. Never be unjust.
4. Be honest and fair.
5. Be good-tempered.
"D
She looked so happy and smiling that you would never have supposed that she had not moved from that couch for several hours, and that many weeks had passed since she had walked at all.
Her mamma came and sat down by her, and
seemed as glad to return to her little invalid daughter as
Ruth was to have her. She very seldom left her for any
length of time, but on that morning she had had business
which obliged her to go to the city near which they lived,
and had detained her for several hours. In her absence,
Ruth had had her nurse to take care of her, and her dolls
and books to amuse her, but none of these could take her
dear mamma's place. But now her mamma had not only come
back herself, but had brought a new book, and as
Ruth had disease of the hip, and she often suffered much pain, and was obliged to lie down most of the time. She could not run about or walk as other children did, yet she was generally very patient and happy. She used to say, sometimes, that she had so much to make her happy that it would not be right for her to fret.
Through
the cold, stormy days of winter she had not felt her
confinement to the house so very much, but
"Oh! how sweet they are!" she exclaimed as she took them from him, and then her mamma noticed that the tears came into her eyes as she held them in her hand.
"My poor little girl,"
said she, "I know it seems hard that you can not go out to
get these beautiful
"Oh! yes, mamma," said Ruth, "I often think of them, and that they can not have their mothers with them all the time as I can. I will try not to feel badly any more, for God is very good to me." And when she looked at the flowers again, it was with the same sweet, patient smile with which she had greeted her mother at her entrance.
That evening, after she had gone to bed, her mamma related the conversation to her papa, saying, as she finished: "How I wish that some means could be devised for taking her about the garden, now that the weather is so pleasant."
"We will think what can be done," said Mr. Ellison, and, as his wife left the room, he smiled very meaningly, as if he had already decided what it should be.
The next day was another bright, warm, spring
day, and as Mrs. Ellison moved Ruth's couch close to the
open window, that she might enjoy, as well as she could in
the house, the singing of the birds and the perfume of the
flowers, she sighed at the
Ruth did not notice it, however, she was so much delighted at the sight of the lilac-tree, close by the window, which was just beginning to blossom. She did not even perceive Robert come to the door, and call her mamma out of the room; neither did she know that she was not by her side, until she heard the door open, and saw her mamma come back again, looking very smiling.
"Would you not like to go out, my little daughter, and see your garden this pleasant morning?" she said.
"Oh! yes, mamma, indeed I would," said Ruth, her face flushing with pleasure, "but you know Mary could not carry me so far."
"We can find a way to take you, if you would like to go," said her mamma, laughing.
It did not take long to wrap Ruth up in a shawl, and put on her bonnet, and then Mary carried her to the piazza. But she did not have to carry her any farther, for there, drawn up close to the steps, was a little carriage, just large enough for Ruth to recline in comfortably, and so light that even her mamma could draw it. Robert stood there now, with the handle in his hand, as if he had made up his mind that he should have the pleasure of giving his sister her first ride.
Almost before Ruth had time to express
her surprise
"Oh! how nice!
oh! how delightful!" exclaimed the child, as her mamma
walked by her side, almost
"Why, papa had it made," said Robert, "and this morning I went into town with him and brought it out."
It would be impossible to describe Ruth's pleasure at being thus taken about the garden and lawn. Her mamma said that now she should go out every pleasant day, and that they could take her all over the fields and woods. They went a short distance, on that morning, down a shady lane near the house. Her mother drew the carriage a little while, and Robert drove his hoop before them, stopping now and then to ask Ruth if she were tired.
After they had reached home, and Ruth was again on her couch, she could talk of nothing but her nice carriage. "How very kind papa was to have it made for me!" said she; "did you know that he was having it done, mamma?"
"No," said Mrs.
Ellison, "it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to
you. We were speaking only last night of our great desire
to have you taken out to enjoy the pleasant weather. Do you
know what I have been thinking of since it came home? Of
those sweet words: 'Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.' Now it was your
papa's pity or compassion for you which led him to think of
having this carriage made for you. Your Heavenly Father
pities you in the
"I will, dear mamma," whispered Ruth, "for I know that when He thinks best He will make me well."
All through that summer the little carriage,
which her father's love had provided for Ruth, was a great
source of pleasure to her; but she did not lose her trust
in her Heavenly Father's greater love, and though several
years passed by before she was entirely well, her heart
rested in His love, and she was kept in perfect peace,
because she trusted in Him.
A
Every child knows how long she must study before she can speak French. Yet here were men speaking several different languages, without any study at all. God had sent the Holy Spirit to enable them to speak them, that they might go every where to preach the Gospel to every nation. And all who heard them on that day believed in Jesus, so that there were three thousand people who became Christians. We celebrate this wonderful event on Whit-Sunday. In olden times the children used to come to the church dressed in white, as an emblem of how the Holy Spirit purifies the heart; so they called it White-Sunday, which has now been changed to Whit-Sunday.
It is not necessary now that persons should learn in a moment to speak several different languages, for there are more persons to go to preach now than there were then. But there is a language which the Holy Spirit is always ready to teach, and that is the language of prayer and praise. No one can truly pray or praise without being taught by the Spirit. God has promised to give it, for He says that He is more willing to give His Holy Spirit to them that ask it, than earthly parents are to give good gifts to their children.
P
P
O Lord Jesus Christ! who hast ascended into heaven, and now sittest at the right hand of God the Father, grant unto us, thy little children, such love toward Thee, that we may daily lift up our hearts to Thee, and obey Thee in all things, so that when our life on earth is ended, we may dwell with Thee in heaven, for evermore. Amen.
C
M
Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.
Dear children, Ascension-Day
is a day set apart by our Church to call to your minds
Christ's ascension into heaven. You have just read, that
after His resurrection He appeared again to His disciples
on earth, and we are told in Acts, that He remained with
them forty days. They were happy days to them for He taught
them many things. He told them to what a glorious place He
was going, and that after they had fought the good fight of
faith on earth, they should live with Him in heaven. He
taught them not to grieve that they were to be left by
themselves because, although He was going to heaven, He
T
"Too little for what, Ella?" asked Mrs. Wilson, pausing before the children.
"I was telling her," said Anna, "the story of Katie Lee, and when I said she must be good, and do as Katie did, she told me she was too little."
"Little girls of four years
"But Katie was older than I, I'm sure," said Ella; "I can't do such things as she can."
"What things?" asked mamma.
"Why, bringing in the milk-pitcher. I'm afraid I'd spill the milk, and then Susan would say: 'Oh! you are a plague.'
Mrs. Wilson smiled, for poor little Ella was called "a plague" very often.
"If you couldn't bring the milk-pitcher, darling, you could be useful in other ways," she said.
"Oh! no, I can't, I'm too little," persisted Ella.
Mrs. Wilson sat down and took the child upon her lap. "Now, listen to me; you can pick up my ball when it rolls on the carpet, and get papa's slippers, and fetch me a book or my work-basket, can't you?"
"Yes, I can do
"Well, then, are you too little to be useful?"
"Why, is
"It means that older girls are
to do great things, and little girls are to do little
things," said her mother. "You are a little girl now, and
so your heavenly Father only wishes you to do little
things; but then my darling must try to do them willingly
and pleasantly. You should always be ready to do what mamma
asks,
All the readers of T
A few years since there lived upon the banks of a beautiful river near one of our cities, a family, consisting of the father, mother, and one little daughter. They had a lovely place, and were very happy. The father and mother were very fond of their little girl, and did every thing they could to keep her well and have her enjoy herself. She had her play-house, her dolls, her tea-sets, and a great many other nice things.
Her
bright, pretty little dog, which always went with her in
her walks and runs about the grounds, was called Trip. I
suppose they gave him this name because he was so nimble
and frisky. And then there was Kitty, with a pink ribbon
around her neck, always ready for play. Every body who
visited the family thought how bright and beautiful every
thing was. But by-and-by a cloud came. Little Grace--for
this was her name--was taken sick, and after suffering for
some days, the blessed Jesus took her away from her parents
and from her happy home, to live forever with Him. He had
prepared another home for her. Her father and mother did
not know how to part with her, for they loved her dearly.
But when the Saviour called, they could not keep her any
longer. After she was buried and all her playthings were
put away forever, her father
It is called "Grace Chapel," and it is the only monument little Grace has.
I think my readers
will agree with me in saying that this is the best kind of
a monument, and that it must be a great comfort to her
parents to feel that in this chapel so many children are
learning about Jesus, and preparing to live forever with
him.
A
You know that England with Scotland and Wales, is an island, so that as there is water all around it, there are many pleasant places on the sea-coast. The children who visit them enjoy very much walking on the soft sands, and looking for shells and seaweed, but the greatest treat of all is to ride on a donkey along the cliffs or through the quiet lanes. For there are always donkeys to be hired by the day or hour, with boys to take care of them, and walk beside them as the children ride.
Alice generally rode for two or three hours every day, because she was not strong enough to walk very far, and yet it was needful for her to be out in the air as much as she could.
The boy who went with Alice when
she rode out, to mind her donkey, was named Joe. He was a
sunburnt-looking lad, with shabby, threadbare clothes, and
a face and hands that were seldom very clean. But Alice
found that he was civil and obliging to her and kind to the
donkey, so she soon began, as they went along, to ask him
questions about himself. She found that he could not
read
"But you should
go to school, and then you
"How can I learn them, miss? I have not time to go to school, for I am out all day with the donkey, and if I wasn't, mother could not spare any money to pay for my learning, for it is as much as she can do to get us bread to eat, and she can hardly do that sometimes."
Alice was silent for a little while, and then she said pleasantly:
"Would you try to learn to read, Joe, if I were to teach you?"
The boy seemed surprised. He twisted his fingers in his rough hair, half-smiled, and said bluntly:
"I don't know but what I would, miss, if you would not mind the trouble; but perhaps the lady might not like it, and besides, I have only a bit of the evening to myself."
He meant by "the lady" Alice's mother.
"Oh! I will ask mamma about it first," said Alice, "though I am almost sure that she will not object, and if she does not, you may come when it suits you. It would be such a good thing to learn to read, you know."
Joe seemed very much pleased, though, to tell the truth, he cared for learning to read more because he thought it would get him a good place than for any other reason.
When the ride was ended, and
the little girl was
"Oh! no, mamma," said Alice; "if Joe does not get tired I do not think I shall. And even if I were tired, I would not give him up, because it would be such a help to him."
Her mamma, seeing how very much in earnest she was, gave her consent, and proposed that he should come for half an hour every evening after they came home from their walk.
The next morning, when Alice again took her ride, she invited Joe to come to their lodgings that evening for his lessons, at which he seemed much pleased.
He came exactly at the hour which Alice had named, and he was so neat and clean that Alice was surprised. His face was bright and shining, for he had put a quantity of soap upon it, and rubbed it dry with a coarse towel. His clothes were old and shabby, but they were patched, and that was a good sign, because it looked as if his mother did the best she could for him.
Alice was
a simple, straightforward girl, and she went to work with
Joe as simply and as quietly as if she had always been
accustomed to it. Joe looked
The next morning Alice was much pleased to find that Joe had remembered his lesson, and he took even more pains to learn his new one. Before he went away Alice read him a few words from the Bible, and taught him one short text to repeat to his mother. The text was this: "I am the good Shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep."
When Joe could say the words without missing, Alice asked him some questions that she might see if he understood their meaning. But she was both sorry and surprised to discover that he scarcely knew any thing about the Saviour. In her own warm and loving way, Alice hastened to talk to him about Jesus, and about His love for sinners, how He died for them, and how willing He is to save them, and Joe listened to her as one who hears for the first time a wonderful story. Ah! it is a wonderful story, my reader, only you have heard it so often that it makes but little impression on your heart.
Alice did not grow tired of teaching Joe to read; it was nice employment for her a little while of an evening, when she could not go out, and had not much to occupy her in-doors. Joe, for his part, was an excellent scholar; he tried to do his best, he minded all that was said to him, and he did not forget what he had once learned. He really liked his lessons, so he got on much more rapidly than Alice had at first expected.
It was not only the reading and spelling which attracted him; he was very fond of the Scripture stories which Alice told him; he never seemed weary of hearing them, and he would often ask for a favorite one to be repeated again and again until he knew it almost as well as Alice herself did.
Alice loved to tell him of the precious things which she had gathered for herself out of God's holy word. She loved Jesus, and she longed to have Joe love Him also. So Alice did more for Joe than simply to teach him to read.
His mother never went to church herself on Sundays, and had never cared to have her boy go, but now he had a desire to hear more of the wonderful things which Miss Alice had told him, so one Sunday he bent his steps towards the house of God. You may be sure that Alice was very glad to see him there, and gave him one of her brightest smiles as she met him when they were coming out. After this she saw him there every Sunday, and he also commenced to attend Sunday-school.
During Alice's stay at the sea-side her birthday came. Her mother had long promised her a new work-box as a gift, on that day. So she proposed to Alice that she should go with her to choose it, for there were some very good stores in the place where they were staying. Alice thanked her mother, but she did not seem quite satisfied; she said she had rather changed her mind about the work-box.
"Have you, dear?" said her mamma, "then what else would you like? A writing-desk, perhaps?"
"No, mamma," Alice replied, with some little hesitation; "if you do not mind, I should like the money to spend as I please. I have been thinking how nice it would be if I could buy a new jacket for Joe to wear. He has only one, and it is so very old and shabby, not at all fit for him to go out in on Sundays."
"But, Alice, it will be a long while before another birthday comes, and you so much wished for a larger work-box."
"Yes, mamma, but I can do without it for another year. The work-box that I have holds all that is really necessary for use, and it is not half so much worn out as Joe's old jacket is. His mother can not afford to get another for him, and now that he goes to church and Sunday-school he ought to be a little better dressed."
"Joe certainly deserves to be
encouraged," said
"I have chosen, mamma, thank you," said Alice, "and now how shall we manage about the jacket? Because if we were to buy one without his trying it on, it would very likely not fit him; and yet it would hardly do to let him have the money to take home with him, since his mother might use it for something else."
"This afternoon, while we are out," said Mrs. Weston, "we can call at a store where boys' clothes are sold, and have two or three jackets suitable for a boy of Joe's size and age, sent to our lodgings. Then when Joe comes, he can have the one which fits him best, or which, for any other reason, he happens to prefer."
Alice at once agreed to this plan, and she did not rest until her mamma went with her on the important errand.
In the evening Joe came to his reading. He had no idea that he also came to try on a new jacket. His delight was very great at so new and unexpected a gift. It was the first new jacket that he had ever had, for since he had been big enough to wear jackets, the best that his mother had ever been able to procure for him had been a cheap second-hand one, and it was only by long and careful saving that she could obtain that.
Alice was as pleased as Joe was, and she felt no regret either then or afterwards that she had given up her work-box. The happiness which she found in helping Joe quite made up to her for its loss. Our Saviour has Himself said that "it is more blessed to give than to receive."
Joe ran home with his treasure, "as happy," he said to himself, "as a king." Ah! many a king with a grand crown upon his head, might have envied the light heart and simple innocent joy of the poor donkey-boy. You may be sure that Joe's mother shared in his gladness. She had often sighed over his threadbare garments, and had vainly wished that their scanty earnings were not so soon swallowed up in rent, and food, and firing; for though she did not much care what her own dress was, she had all a mother's pride in seeing her son look decent and respectable. She admired the new jacket very much, and felt as if she could hardly be thankful enough to Miss Alice and her mamma for it.
"Now, mother," said Joe, as the jacket was at length laid aside, "I want to make a bargain with you."
"Well, lad, what is it?" said his mother, pleasantly.
"Why, that the first time I wear my new jacket, which will be on Sunday, you know, mother, you will walk with me, when I have it on, to the house of God."
Joe's mother at first refused, but the boy would not be contented until she promised to go. It was a foolish promise to make, she said, for she could not understand any thing if she went; but she would go just to please him.
But she went afterwards
from a better motive than that. For although that was the
Joe has now ceased to be a donkey-boy. He has a situation in a grocer's shop, where he is learning the business, having good wages, and giving great satisfaction to his master. So Joe has already risen in the world, and bids fair to make still further progress, for he is honest, and steady, and diligent, and has the fear of God before his eyes.
Joe gratefully says that he owes all his success to Miss Alice, for if she had not offered to teach him to read, he should most likely never have made a beginning, nor have had the wish to go on improving himself. But after she left the sea-side he went to an evening-school, and there he learned writing and arithmetic in addition to his other lessons, and thus fitted himself for better work than that of running after donkeys all day long.
Alice went home with rosy cheeks and strong,
healthy limbs. She could take long walks now without being
in the least tired. She had gained
L
But when they came home it was very different. Then her mother had a bundle of hay on her back, which she was carrying to the cow, and she could could not even lead little Nanette; she could only say, "Follow me, my child; step just where I do," and though the poor little girl was very much afraid, and sometimes when the stones would shake as she stepped on them, she thought she would fall into the stream, yet she tried to follow her mother, and paid attention to her directions, and so she got safely across.
This makes me think of Jesus. He says to all little children, "Follow me," and those who do follow Him, He leads safely to their heavenly home.
But perhaps you say: "How can I follow Jesus? Little Nanette saw her mother, and so she could follow her, but I can not see Jesus." This is what He says:
"My sheep
Do you not sometimes feel something within you
telling not to do some wrong thing which you are about to
do? That is the voice of Jesus telling you that you are not
following Him, and that is one way that He speaks to you.
Then everywhere in the Bible you may read what He wants you
to do, and you follow Him when you obey His will, and every
time that you go to the Bible to read what He
Do you feel discouraged as you think of this, and wonder who can so follow Christ? No one can without His help. Nanette's mother could not have helped her if she had slipped into the stream, but Jesus will lift you up every time you slip down on the way, or sin, which is what I mean, and He will give you the power to follow Him if you ask Him. Nanette's mother could not have made her little girl able to walk if she had not had the use of her limbs, but Jesus not only shows the way, He gives the power too.
Little Nanette followed her mother to
their pleasant cottage-home. Jesus leads His followers to
glorious mansions in heaven, where there is no more pain,
or sorrow, or suffering, but all is joy and peace forever.
Y
A gentleman who
visited a Protestant school in Ireland says: "I noticed two
little boys, and on asking how they
Now I will tell you what a little girl did
for her drunken father. He could not read, but she read the
Bible to him, and tried to teach him to read it. Then she
got him to go to church. He soon became regular in
attending, and persuaded a fellow-workman to go with him.
In a few weeks he got four others to join them, and soon he
was converted
An agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society was staying at the house of a friend who had four little daughters. One morning, the eldest of these little girls presented him with a sealed packet, asking him not to open it till he had left the house, and saying it was a small donation from herself and her sisters to aid in sending Bibles to those who were without them.
A gentleman who had breakfasted with them was present, and listened to the words of the child with marked interest. These two gentlemen were alone together during most of that day, in a long journey, and when both were seated in the car, the packet was opened, and found to contain five pounds. When the agent spoke of the little girl who had given it, his companion's eyes filled with tears. "She is, indeed, an interesting child," he said; "but she is much more--she is a pious Christian. To that child I am indebted for all my happiness on earth, and all my hope of heaven." He then told that he had been an open unbeliever in the truths of the Bible, and that on one occasion this child, then only nine years old, was present when her father was trying, but in vain, to convince him of his error. When her father left the room, she asked this gentleman to walk with her in the garden, and when there, she begged leave to ask him a question
"Have you ever read the New Testament through, with a real wish to understand it?" she modestly inquired.
"No," he answered, "I never have."
"I thought so," she said.
"You never would have spoken of it as you did just now, if
you had." And in an earnest tone, she added: "Oh!
A little pale boy was sitting by his mother's side, reading the Bible. At length he exclaimed: "O mother! when I think of all that Jesus has done for us, I can't help wishing to do something to show my love to God."
"But you are too weakly to work; and what can you do, my child?"
"I know that, mother; but I think if I had a Missionary box, I would try and get some money, and even if it were very little, Jesus would accept it for the poor heathen."
"I am quite willing, Richard, only you must not be asking the ladies who come to see you for money."
"No, mother, I won't. But I might sell the little wooden knives that I can make, and cut some of those paper ornaments that Mrs. Williams liked, and may be she would buy some."
In a week he had some little articles finished and laid in a tray, upon which was a card with the words: "For Sale, for the Missionary Society."
When the next Missionary meeting took place, a poor woman, with a black ribbon on her bonnet, put a box into the collector's hands, saying:
"It is my son's box, sir--Richard Johnson."
"Richard Johnson!" said the gentleman. "Why, that is the lame boy who lives in ---- street."
"He is dead, sir," said the mother, with tears in her eyes.
A gentleman then rose and related the particulars I have been telling you, adding that Richard had been taken with a sudden illness, of which he died in a few days. "The last time I saw him," said he, "he was sitting up in bed, working away at his little wooden knives. I asked him why he taxed his failing strength, and he answered:
"'My time is very short, and there is no work nor device in the grave, you know. It is so good of God to let me live long enough to show that I would do something if I could. And I have so prayed that my little money may help some heathen to know and love Him.'"
The box contained between three and four dollars.
Now, my dear young reader, I have only room
to beg that you will ask yourself in earnest: "What can I
do?"
F
"O Mary! if you could only have been there! every thing went off so pleasantly. It was crowded, but not uncomfortably. The children sang the hymns so sweetly. How you would have enjoyed it! And then, the other exercises--if I could describe them! But then I can give you no idea of the manner and voice of the speakers--one in particular--the last one--I think I shall never forget it. I never thought of his text in that light before. If I only could tell you all he said! But here comes mother. O mother! please sit down and tell Mary all that you can remember that last speaker said."
"My dear child," replied her mother, "I, too, was much impressed by the earnest and solemn address of the stranger. I think he began by saying:
"'If a stranger
were to arrive on our shores on the fourth of July, he
would be surprised at the happy holiday appearance of every
thing he saw. He would notice the turning out of the
soldiers in their gay uniforms--the firing of cannon and
other noisy demonstrations--crowds of well-dressed people,
old and young, going to and fro--banners displayed,
"'If he were to pass from city to city, he would find, nearly in every place, the same signs of gladness and rejoicing, and he would, in wonder, naturally be led to ask: "What is it that has caused a nation thus to rejoice?"
"'But he would cease to wonder at the general gladness and happiness, if he were told that this day was the anniversary of one upon which we had declared our independence--our freedom from tyranny, oppression, and injustice; and it was thus our nation took occasion to celebrate the happy event by every outward sign that could be devised.'
"He paused and continued: 'And now, my young friends, let us think of another scene and time of rejoicing very different from, but far more important and interesting in its character and relations to you.
"'Let us picture to ourselves all the inhabitants of heaven ranged round the great white throne, singing praises to Him that sitteth thereon forever. All is sweet harmony and happiness there--not a note of discord: pure, high, and holy is that strain of heavenly music chanted by the blessed ones above.
"'But hark! that celestial harmony
is--interrupted?--no! but a new impulse is given to its
thrilling melody. There is a fresh outbreak of
"'What means all this? What wonderful event has caused this? What has given new joy to the inhabitants of heaven? It is the welcome tidings that one penitent sinner on this our earth has given his heart to the Saviour! And who is it? Has he rank or power or greatness? Or is he poor and humble and unnoticed? No matter who or what he is, if he is a penitent sinner, and loves the Saviour. He may be among the lowliest, among the aged or youngest, even among you, ay, among you, my dear children, who has caused or may cause such a thrill of rejoicing in heaven. It must surely be a great, a very important thing to give joy to the heavenly host.
"'And now, as you separate to go to your
several homes, bear in mind what you may and must do. Give
your heart to the Saviour; and never forget the precious
verse: "There is joy in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth."'"
J
W
I have said Molly was very neat about her clothes. She was not only neat, but careful and particular. She kept her things very nice, and made them last a long time. Some little girls are very thoughtless, and soil and tear their clothes when they need not. But Molly's mamma never had much trouble with her about these things. She was very good and very thoughtful. Sometimes, when Molly wore a new hat or a new dress for the first time, she put on some small airs, and seemed to say: "Don't I look pretty fine? I think every body must admire me." Now I presume every body did admire her, for her mother had excellent taste and judgement, and always selected what was very pretty and becoming, and Molly was bright enough to know this, and so she was a little proud of her appearance.
But was
Molly Jones a good girl? She was pretty, she was graceful,
affectionate, and kind. She kept her clothes nice, and was
careful; and more than this, she was very much liked by her
playmates and all who knew her. But Molly Jones was not a
"W
Farmer Jones, seeing a boy running away from him in that manner, naturally supposed there was some reason for it. "Ah!" said he to himself, "there is one of the young rogues who has been stealing my garden-tools lately; yes, there he has a rake in his hand now." And he whipped up his horse, and drove after him. Harry had a little the start of him though, so that he did not overtake him until he was just at his mother's door.
"Here, you young rascal!" shouted the farmer, "stop and let me see that rake; where did you get it?"
At the first sound of the farmer's
voice, Harry turned toward him, pale and trembling, but he
was very much relieved at hearing him ask about the
"I believe it is," said the farmer, as he examined it; "it is not mine, at any rate; but what were you doing with it in my lane?"
"I was coming from my grandmother's, sir. I had been raking in her garden."
"Then you are not one of the boys who has been stealing my tools lately."
"No, sir," said Harry promptly.
"But then what made you run so fast, when you saw me coming?" asked the farmer.
Harry looked down and hesitated; but he could not add to his sin by telling a lie, so he stammered out: "I was eating currants, sir."
"Ho! ho! then you were stealing," said the farmer. "I was not so far wrong after all." But then, seeing the tears fall from Harry's eyes, he added kindly: "The next time you want currants, go to Mrs. Jones, and she will give you as many as you will pick, for there are more than we shall ever use; and remember this: 'The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but the righteous are as bold as a lion.' Do what is right and then you need never run away from any one."
Farmer Jones drove on, and Harry went into the house; but there his mother met him.
"Why,
Harry," said she, "what did Mr. Jones
It was of no use to try to conceal any thing from the loving eyes of his mother; so Harry told her the whole story. "But, O mother!" said he, as he finished, "I will never take any thing that does not belong to me again. I don't see how a boy can want to be a thief, and feel as frightened as I have felt. The boys that I know do take the farmers' fruit though, and say it is no harm, and that they would just as lief they had it as not."
"I know they do, my son," said his mother; "but ask them if they would do it if the owner saw them, and they couldn't say yes. Farmer Jones is willing to give you currants, but he is not willing to have you take them without leave. You may be sure that whenever you are afraid to be seen doing an action, that action is wrong. I hope, indeed, that the suffering which this first theft has caused will make it your last. Many a boy who has commenced by taking a few currants or apples which did not belong to him, without being found out, has ended by being sent to prison for stealing much greater things.
"But if you
will always remember to look up when you are tempted to
steal, you will be kept from sin, for you can hide nothing
from God."
This was what a little girl said, as she looked from the window upon the rain which her Heavenly Father had sent in kindness to water the earth, that she might have the vegetables and fruit which she liked so much, and to cause the flowers to open their buds and beautify the garden. But she did not think of this; she only thought how her day's pleasure had been spoiled. She ought to have heard Uncle Philip telling Jenny how to read the sky. He said that the sky was to him a sort of lesson-book, and when he looked at it all clear and bright, the lesson he read was: "Love God."
But sometimes it was covered with dark, heavy clouds, threatening a storm; then he thought the leaf was turned over, and he read: "Fear God."
And then again the clouds broke away, and the sun showed himself, and the lesson then was: "Praise God."
But when it was cloudy and threatening in one part, and patches of blue sky appeared in another part, the lesson he read was, "Love God," "Fear God," and "Praise God," all on the same page.
Jenny thought these were easy lessons, and she would read the sky every day. But Peter (who did not think she was much of a reader) said, if she did, she would be sure to read it wrong, and when the lesson was, "Love God," she would read, "Fear God."
"No matter," said Uncle Philip, "never mind that, Jenny; for you will please God, whether you love or fear or praise Him. He wants you to do all three, and all three are the lessons of the sky."
E
If all the curious people in that village could have known what was passing in that little boy's mind on that morning, I think they would have learned that there might be better employment than trying to find out what their neighbors were doing, or where they were going. Charlie had determined to be one of God's little ones; he had come to Jesus, and asked Him to forgive all his sins, and be his Saviour forever. He believed that his prayer had been heard, for he had that Saviour's own promise, that whatsoever he would ask should be given to him. He was so very happy, that he wanted to do something to show his love and gratitude to Jesus; but what could he do? When He had lived upon the earth as man, those who loved Him could shelter Him in their houses, and provide food for Him when He was hungry; but of course no one could do that now. Charlie was dressing as these thoughts passed through his mind; but before he left his room, he took up his little book from which he learned a Bible-text every morning, and these were the words for that morning: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
"That is what I want," he thought.
"I will see
While they were at breakfast, his mother said: "I should like very much to send some breakfast to Mrs. Jones this morning; she is too sick to prepare much for herself, and her daughter has gone to sew for Aunt Phebe, and I know was not able to get home last night."
Charlie glanced at the clock; it wanted three quarters of an hour to school-time. He would just have time to get to Mrs. Jones's and back again before the bell should ring. To be sure he would miss the pleasant play which he always had with the boys in the morning, and they could have capital fun with their sleds, there had been such a fall of snow; but he did not stop to think of that, he was so glad that now he could do something for Jesus.
His warm overcoat, fur mittens, and comforter were on by the time his mother had the basket ready, and he set off, thinking all the time of his text, and how blest he was, to be able thus to prove his gratitude and love to his Saviour. This was what made him look so happy on that cold winter's morning.
He found Mrs. Jones with some
dry bread upon her table, and trying to warm some coffee
which had been left from the day before. But she looked so
weak and sick, that he knew she was not able
That evening, after his sister was in bed and his father had gone out, his mother asked him about his morning's expedition, and as he told her all that had been passing through his mind--for he loved to have his mother know all his thoughts-- her heart was filled with joy that her child had been so taught by the Holy Spirit.
"You
remind me, Charlie," said she, "of a little German boy of
whom I read the other day, who learned the same lesson
which you have learned, only in a different way. In Germany
there was a good man, who wanted to show his gratitude to
his Saviour by blessing some of His little ones. All his
own children had been taken to their Father's house above,
so he determined to take into his home some of the poor and
destitute children who had no one to care for them. He soon
gathered there a number of children, who before
"One evening at supper, one of the little boys, After he had repeated these words, said: 'Do tell me why the Lord Jesus never comes? We ask Him every day to sit with us, and He never comes.'
"'Dear child,' said his kind teacher, 'only believe, and you may be sure He will come, for He does not despise our invitation.'
"'I shall set him a seat,' said the little fellow. Just as he had done so, there was a knock at the door; it was opened, and there was a poor, half-frozen man, who begged for a night's lodging. He was made welcome; there was a chair standing empty for him; and every child wanted him to have his plate; one lamented that his bed was too small for the stranger.
"The little boy who had placed the chair had been silent, as if thinking; at last he said: 'Jesus could not come, and so He sent this poor man in His place; is that it?'
"'Yes, dear child,' said his kind
protector, 'that's just it. Every piece of bread and
drink
Charlie went up to bed with the same happy
smile he had worn all day; and when his mother went into
his room before retiring for the night, to see that he was
warm and comfortable, and saw his face wearing the same
expression, even in his sleep, she prayed in her heart,
that as he had begun he might continue, and never be weary
in well doing.
T
"Thy word is a light unto my feet, and a lamp unto my path." (Psalm 119:105.)
A light! Even the little baby who can not speak turns round to look at the bright gas-lamps in the street, and crows with delight when a candle is brought into the room.
"And
Another little girl named Katie lives in a farm-house which stands almost by itself. Between it and the nearest town is a steep hill-side with a wide furzy common at the top. There is no regular road over the hill, but only a little narrow path; but Katie has gone across it many, many times, and knows the way quite well when it is light. She can make way-marks of the old crooked trees which stand here and there by the path.
One day Katie's mother was obliged to send her over the hill late in the afternoon; it was a pleasant walk, while the birds were singing their last sweet song,and the sun shining in the sky before he went down. Katie did not go on quite so fast as she might. When her errand was done, however, and she got back on to the common, she tripped along fast enough, for the sun was gone, and instead of the bright streaks where he had been, hung heavy gray clouds, and the wind swept up the hill with a low sound.
Katie ran fast now, for she had often seen a storm come on like this; but before she was half across the common, the thick gray mist had gathered over the whole hill-side, and the rain fell fast. She could not now see her way; the footpath seemed to grow so narrow, she soon lost it and got in among the furze. If she stood still, the prickly bushes hurt her feet, and the water crept into her shoes, and if she ran on, she only seemed to get further from the path.
Poor Katie! how much she wished for a light! She kept on bravely in the dark a little while, but at last she sat down on a stone and cried. It was dark, cold, and dreary, when on a sudden she thought she heard a sound like some one calling. Again and again a distant shout was heard, and in a minute or two she saw far down the hill a little glimmering spark of light. She felt sure it was some one come out to meet her with a lantern; so she called loud, and presently some one answered; then the light came nearer till it was almost close, and even by its tiny spark she could see the way in which she should go. The light was from a lantern carried by the plough-boy, who had come to meet her. The road was just as steep and long, and the rain fell as fast as before, but Katie's tears were gone, and she ran on with a light heart, for she knew that home was not far off, and the light had shown her she was in the right way to get there.
Now, I wonder why the text says the word of God is like a light and a lamp? There are two or three reasons which we will try to learn.
First, it is like
a light, because it makes us happy. You remember Jane did
not feel half so dull and lonely, though she was alone,
after the light came. There is a little boy whose father
and mother are dead, and who has nobody in all the world to
love him and take care of him. He feels very sad, poor boy,
and often goes out and sits alone to cry. But
God's word also comes, like the lantern to Katie on the hill, to show us things we could not see before. There is a child whose mother says that she is so cross and fretful and disobedient, I do not know what to do with her. And if you asked the girl herself if she was happy, she would say: "Oh! no, I am not."
Poor child! she would like to be
happy, but, like Katie on the dark common, she can not find
the way. Is there any light for her? Yes, God's word says:
Then it is like a light to show us the way to heaven. You sing in one of your hymns:
"Around the throne of God in heaven Thousands of children stand."
Did they get there from the dark lands where there is no word of God to give them light? Hear what another verse says:
"On earth they sought their Saviour's grace, On earth they loved His name; So now they see His blessed face, And stand before the Lamb."
Who told these little
children in the hymn that this was the
Dear children, who have this good
word of God, look much at it and use it aright. I am sure
Janie did not put out the candle, and leave herself in the
dark again; I am sure Katie did not shut her eyes and run
away from the lantern. But there are many people who do
"M
Some few evenings after this conversation, the little girl had, as was her custom, repeated her evening prayer at her mother's side; the loving good-night kiss was exchanged, and her mother turned to leave the room, when a low sob arrested her attention. In an instant she was at the bedside of her child, with an anxious: "What ails my darling?"
"O mamma! dear mamma! I couldn't say Amen to-night; I have been so naughty to-day."
The mother's arm encircled the little girl, as she asked an explanation.
"Why, to-day," continued the child, "when little Willie broke my baby-house, he said he did not mean to do it; but I said I knew he did, and then he wanted to kiss me, but I would not let him. (Here the child sobbed out.) And now he's gone to sleep, and I have not kissed him since. I'm so sorry! and that's why I couldn't say Amen."
The loving mother
spoke gentle words of counsel and comfort, and then took
the weeping child to
The evening prayer was again repeated, and as she bade her mother good-night, she whispered: "I am so happy, mamma; for God will hear me now."
T
"Do you ever pray, my child?"
"Oh! yes, sir," said the boy, smiling.
"Where do you pray? You go out early in the morning, do you not?"
"Yes, sir: I am only half-awake when I leave the house. I think about God, but I can not say that I pray then."
"Where, then, do you pray?"
"Well, you see, sir, our master orders us to mount the chimney quickly, but does not mind our resting awhile when we are at the top. Then I sit at the top of the chimney and pray."
"And what do you say, my child?"
"Ah! sir, very little," replied the boy. "I know no grand words with which to speak to God."
God does not ask for grand words from little children. If they pray with the heart, in Jesus' name, they are sure to be heard.
H EAR the gracious lips of Jesus,Breathing tenderness and grace; Bidding every youthful nature Welcome to His sweet embrace. He has promised--oh! how kindly-- Little ones to love and bless; Cheering them with smiling kindness Through this earthly wilderness. When their little hearts with sorrow Tremble like a falling leaf, And the starting tear-drops quiver In the swimming eyes of grief; Jesus whispers then so sweetly In the little mourner's ear, That his bosom ceases trembling, And his eyes refuse a tear. See His mercies ever shining Clear and pure as morning dew, Hear His tender accents calling, Oh! so graciously, to you. With his blood He bought thy ransom, Suffered every pang for thee; Heed, oh! heed His gentle whisper: Give your tender heart to me."
After
walking awhile in silence, he paused near to a poor old
blind woman, who was seated on a door-step holding out her
wrinkled hand. Harry stood gazing on her, with his hands in
the pockets of his ragged coat, his papers under his arm,
and
Three times his fingers clutched one of his remaining pennies, and three times the thought of his half-spoiled papers caused him to drop it again to the bottom of his capacious pocket. At last his heart won the victory. Out came the penny, and with earnest good-will he dropped it into the blind woman's palm. Then Harry's eye brightened. He turned away with an elastic tread, and his voice echoed loudly along the street as he cried: "Newspapers! this day's papers!"
The fact is, that gift of half his remaining fortune to the old blind woman had warmed his sad heart and cheered his fallen spirits, as generous deeds always do. If Harry was a penny poorer, he was a great deal happier than before he divided his little all with that blind sister of poverty.
Children! if you wish to have warm hearts yourselves, you must do good to others. As the good God pours streams of blessings on you, you must scatter His good gifts upon others. If you have much, do much; if little, like the newsboy, do little; but be sure to do some kind act or speak some kind word to some one every day of your life. Thus you will be like Jesus, who went about doing good.
T
Not long since an act of this kind was
noticed by a teacher. One of his scholars was a boy of
about ten years of age, whose father was in prison, and
whose mother gained a scanty living by selling old
umbrellas in the streets. He was confined at home through
illness; but as evening approached nothing could prevent
him from attempting to attend his school. To quiet him, his
mother sent a little Jew boy (his mate as he termed him) to
the master, requesting him to return a message, forbidding
the boy to come to school, which was done. Very shortly the
young Jew returned, and, with downcast looks, informed the
master that George would come, nothing could prevent him.
At the same moment George entered; and to the inquiry how
he dared to disobey his mother, he replied: "Oh! please
sir, I'm all right when I'm up; it's only when I'm in bed
that I'm bad; and, besides, I must come to school." A few
days after this he was unable
When the faithful friend had deposited the sick boy in his place, it was difficult to say which of the two, Jew or Gentile, was more gratified with the performance. This was repeated until George was able to walk without assistance.
Well done, little Jew boy! May thy Gentile brothers imitate thy example!
We all may do good, Whether lowly or great, For the deed is not gauged By the purse or estate; If it be but a cup Of cold water that's given, Like the widow's two mites, It is something for Heaven.
M
This was a great pleasure to Martha,
for, although her father was not so poor but that he could
get enough for his family to eat and to make them
comfortable, he was obliged to work hard for it, and
expected every member of his family to do the same; so, as
they kept no servant, Martha had to
On this particular morning
she had had a good deal to do. There was the strawberry-bed
to weed, then she had to take her turn at the churn, then
to prepare the potatoes for boiling, and to set the table
for dinner while her mother fried the pork, which was to be
the principal dish at that meal. Besides this, she had to
look after her little brother Tom, who was just old enough
to be in every body's way, and to get in all sorts of
mischief, without being able to be of the least assistance.
When she told him that he might help her weed the
strawberries, he trampled down the vines, and pulled up as
many plants as he did weeds; so she had to stop him there.
He was anxious to help churn, and she let him try; but he
was hardly strong enough to move the dasher; so he had to
give that up. To be sure, he could wash the potatoes,
though he made his apron all wet by the operation, and he
was a little help in putting the dishes on the table; still
Martha thought she could have got on faster if he had not
been with her. She was very patient with him, however, for
she was thinking all the time what a beautiful walk she
should have through the woods, and that she would come home
by the way of the brook, and take off her shoes that she
might cross it without fear of wetting them. Perhaps, too,
the
She worked, as I said, industriously and steadily; and as soon as dinner was over, the kitchen all in order, and her mother ready to sit down with her knitting, Martha put on her clean frock, tied on her sun-bonnet, and, taking the basket in which her mother had placed the nice fresh rolls of butter, set off on her walk. Rover, her brother Dick's dog, which, when his owner went to sea, was left in her care, jumped up from his place at the kitchen-door, where he had been taking a nap ever since he had eaten his share of the pork, and trotted along by her side, for he always thought he had a right to go wherever her brown sun-bonnet went.
"Yes, Rover, you may go," said Martha, as he
looked up in her face to see if his company was agreeable.
So they went on together, while Tom, poor little Tom, who
would have enjoyed a walk in the woods as much as either of
them, was left at home, because it would have been some
trouble to take care of him. Martha had given him her slate
and pencil to draw a picture for her while she was changing
her dress, and then, while he was deeply engaged with it,
she had slipped off unobserved. She was thinking how
cleverly she had managed thus
Rover could not stand this, if Martha could. He stopped, pricked up his ears, looked at his little mistress as much as to say, "Don't you hear that?" and finally ran back to see what he could do. Martha stopped then too, for she felt ashamed that the dog should be kinder than she was. "O dear!" she said to herself, "there, I have got to take that little plague after all. I am sure I have had enough of him all the morning, and I shall have to walk slowly and give up coming home by the brook."
As soon as Tom (for it was
he who had been calling) saw his sister stop, his crying
ceased, and he ran up to her as fast as his little bare
feet could carry him, while Rover bounded on before,
wagging his tail as if he thought he had done a very
praise-worthy action in thus guiding the little boy to his
sister. And so he had. The dog, who could not speak, nor go
to school, nor learn to read, had shown more kind affection
than the little girl, who could do all these, and had
learned, moreover, to
"Well, here you are," said Martha, in no very gentle tone, as her little brother came up to her. "Did mother say you might come?"
"Yes," said the little fellow; "she said if I would run fast I would catch you. But oh! why didn't you wait, for I am so tired;" and as he took off his little sun-burned straw hat, with its fringed brim, he looked red and hot. No doubt he would have been glad to sit down under the shade of the great oak-tree which was near them, but Martha never offered to stop.
"I think you might have put on your shoes and your other hat," she said crossly, as she hurried on; "mother always likes us to look nice when we go to the village."
"But I was afraid I could not catch you if I did," said Tom; "it would have taken me so long. But no matter; I will take off my hat when I get to the store; and bigger boys than I am don't wear shoes."
Martha made no reply; she felt too cross to
talk; so they walked on in silence, neither of them very
happy--and why? The moss was just as soft and green as ever
it was, doing its best to beautify the gray rocks and
stumps of trees which were by the side of their path; the
birds sang just as sweetly, and the wild flowers were just
as pretty and abundant
When they reached the store, the owner of it, Mr. Ward, praised the butter and bought it all, paying Martha in bright silver pieces, which she tied in the corner of her handkerchief, as her mother had told her, and then he gave them each a piece of candy; but even that did not taste as sweet as the last time, when she had been glad to have Tom with her.
As they started for home, Rover bounded on before, until he came to the place where the path which led across the brook branched off from the one they had taken on their way to the village; then he stood still, waiting to see which one Martha would choose. She, in her turn, hesitated. There were only stepping-stones to cross the brook, and they were hardly near enough together for Tom to step from one to the other; still it was so much pleasanter, and that decided her.
"I don't see why I
must always give up what I like to Tom," she thought, as
she took the path to the brook. It was quite a wide stream,
and though not at all deep, the water ran very rapidly over
the stones. When they reached it, Martha took off her shoes
for fear she might wet them, placed her sunbonnet and Tom's
hat in her now empty basket,
Martha had just stepped on the large stone
which was nearly in the centre of the stream, when Tom, who
was close behind her, could resist the clear cool water no
longer, and put one foot in it, keeping the other on the
large rock, while he put out his hand to steady himself
against his sister. She saw what he wanted to do, but she
felt too cross to be willing to wait to gratify him, so she
prepared to go on, and the little fellow, deprived of the
support which he expected, lost his balance and fell over
into the water. Rover, who had turned his head continually
to watch the children, as they followed him, as if he
thought they needed his care, heard the splash, and, in an
instant, was by Tom's side, and taking the skirt of his
coat in his teeth, dragged him on to the stone. The water
was not deep enough to drown the child, though he got a
thorough wetting, and cut one of his feet on the side of
the rock as he slipped. Martha, a second
Mrs. Terry did not inquire how her little boy happened to slip, and Martha did not tell her. She was ashamed of her crossness, but she was not penitent, or she would have confessed her fault; and though she inwardly resolved that she would never be so unkind to Tom again, yet, when she said in her evening prayer, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us," the thought that her unkindness was one of the sins for which she prayed to be forgiven never came into her mind.
Was that the best way? It was not
what one of Jesus' little ones would have done.
H
I once heard of a man who
You have read perhaps of the large tin
mines in Cornwall. In these mines many men are employed to
work for the tin. It is very hard work to get it, and when
parts are too rocky so that it can not be dug out, the
pickaxe and gunpowder are obliged to be used. Fire is put
to the gunpowder, which lights and blows up the rock in
which the tin is. Of course the workmen have to get out of
the way whilst this is going on, for fear of being blown up
too. Well, one day two workmen were left to set a light to
the gunpowder, and, as it takes a minute or two to light,
there was just time enough to let a basket down to draw
When the
workmen saw the mistake they did not know what to do; there
was no time to draw one man up first, and then let down the
basket for the other man; nor was there time to fetch
another basket; and if both got into the basket the rope
would break. What were they to do? One
So the good man said to the other: "You go up in the basket, and I will stay down here; I am not afraid to die, for I know I shall go to heaven." The careless, thoughtless man at once jumped into the basket, and was drawn up in safety. The good man then knelt up in one corner, and prayed God to take care of him.
The blast went off, the stones came tumbling down, and where was the good man? Was he a mangled body? No; quite safe and sound in the same corner; the gunpowder had not touched him, but had mercifully been kept away from that place.
Oh! how he thanked the Lord, his deliverer, from his heart! As to the other man, I believe it was the means of his conversion.
If you have never asked yourself this
question, dear reader, "Am I ready to die?" pray do it at
once. There is no time to be lost. You know not when you
may die. Fall upon your knees and beg the Lord to show you
your own heart; to give you a new one; to make you love and
serve him as your Father. O dear friends!
Come to this
loving Saviour; you will be much happier if you are His
lambs in His fold. Many children
Jesus
will, if you come to Him, be your Saviour and your Guide,
and at last take you to his blessed abode, to heaven, where
you will see all your good friends, whom you love; and,
much more, will always be with your blessed Saviour, happy
forever and ever.
"And thou shalt call His name Jesus."
At last the waters came rolling very near, and a gentleman who was standing by thought it was time for the child to get down and go further up the beach. But, no, he did not believe there was any danger, until a great wave came dashing up and surrounded the rock, turning it into a little island.
For a moment then he looked pale; but
the wave rolled back again, and the little boy laughed
merrily
At that moment a great roaring wave
came billowing up, and the poor boy, to save himself,
jumped--not into the gentleman's arms, but quite the other
way--and fell down into the water, where, if he had not
been snatched up directly, he must have been drowned. As it
was, he was thoroughly wet, covered with sand and dirt, and
very much ashamed that he had been so foolish as not to
My dear children, there are greater dangers all around us. If left to ourselves, sin and hell will swallow us up forever. But there is a mighty arm held out to us. Jesus says: "Trust in me; I will save you from your sins, and make you blessed forever." If we will not obey Him, there is no other way. We must perish. Unbelief will be our ruin.
"C
It
was easy enough for them to find the sticks in the woods,
for the branches were often broken from the trees, by heavy
winds or by boys nutting, and these soon dried, making
excellent wood for kindling or for heating an oven. The
little cottage where they lived was right among the tall
trees; there had been a small space cleared just around it,
large enough to plant a few potatoes and other vegetables,
but everywhere else, on all sides of their home, as far as
they could see, it was one unbroken forest. And very happy
these children were in their woodland home. Their father
was away all day, at work for the farmers in the
neighborhood, and their mother was sometimes employed in
the village, to do a day's washing or cleaning; so that
they were often entirely alone from sunrise to
Maggie had one little doll which a lady for whom her mother worked had senther, and several paper ladies and children, which her mother had cut for her. For these she and Sam made beautiful baby-houses on the rocks, which were covered with moss and fern. To be sure, sometimes the squirrels or the turtles or the toads would come to make them a visit; but they were all their friends, and the children were glad to see them.
But Maggie and Sam did something besides play. When the berries were ripe, they went to a cleared place about half a mile from their house, where they grew in abundance, and picked them by the pailful. Sometimes their mother would let them go to the village to sell them, and sometimes they had them for their supper, with the nice milk which Dolly their cow gave them. Dolly lived as they did, in the woods. As soon as she was milked in the morning, she wandered off to eat the plants which grew among the trees, finding here and there a patch of grass, and if she did not come home in time for the evening, Maggie and Sam went for her. They generally found her quite easily, by listening to the tinkling of the bell which was tied on her neck.
When the berries were gone, they
gathered sticks, and besides what they sold, they supplied
their mother with all the wood which she wanted to
But while I have been telling you all about
their home and their amusements, the children have reached
the village, taken their wood to the baker, and are on
their way home again, with two nice loaves of bread for
their supper and breakfast. Their bundles of sticks had
been very heavy, and they had rested a good many times as
they carried them; then they had waited to look at the
flower-garden which was by the side of the baker's house,
and which his little girl had shown them; so that it was
nearly dark when they entered the woods to go home. Still
they did not mind that, for they had lived too long in the
woods to be afraid, and they thought they knew the path
perfectly; they had certainly travelled it often enough. So
they walked gayly on, talking of the nice supper
"O dear!" said Sam, "what shall we do? I can't see where to step at all; and the trees are so close together, I am sure we are off of the path."
"Never mind," said Maggie; "I guess we shall get home if we keep right straight along, and don't go where there is much underbrush."
But it was not so easy to go straight along without any guide, and so after a while they found themselves completely surrounded by underbrush, with no light to show them their way but what came from the stars, whose twinkling could be only now and then discerned through the waving branches of the tall trees above their heads.
Sam cried outright, and even Maggie felt somewhat discouraged; but she had a good deal of energy and perseverance, so she was not ready to give up. "O Sam!" said she, "don't cry; let's climb on this rock, and sit down and rest awhile, and I'll break off a piece of bread from this loaf--I am sure mother will not mind--and after you have eaten something, you will feel more like trying to find your way again."
So the children clambered on to the rock, and sat down to eat their bread, while the crickets chirped around them, and the katy-dids told them over and over again that Katy did and Katy didn't. They had not noticed these familiar sounds before, and they felt quite reassured when they heard them; so by the time they had finished eating they were talking quite happily again. When Maggie proposed, however, that they should start again to find their way, Sam said:
"Do wait a little longer, I am so tired." So they waited; but in a minute or two Sam's head fell over on Maggie's shoulder, and he was asleep. She folded her shawl for a pillow, and then laid his head gently upon it on the rock; then she lay down beside--just to see that nothing happened to him; she said to herself; but in five minutes she was asleep also.
Long before this, Dolly had come home and been milked, their mother had got their supper all ready for them, and their father came whistling along the path to the house, wondering very much that the children did not run to meet him as usual.
"What can keep them?" he said, as his wife told him how they had gone to carry their wood to the baker's, and had not yet returned; "they have had time enough to get home before this."
"Oh! they'll be home
soon now, I think," said their mother; "they have likely
stopped to rest
But as night came on she showed that she did fear for them, for she went every few minutes to the gate, to see if they were coming; and when it became too dark to discern any thing but the tall, forms of the trees, she said to her husband: "I begin to be afraid that something has happened to the children; suppose you take your lantern, and we will go a little ways down the path, and see if we can not meet them."
Now Peter Jones had been hard at work all day, and his supper was all ready and waiting for him; but he never considered how tired and hungry he was, he was so anxious to find his children. So he lighted the lantern, and went with his wife along the path, calling "Maggie!" and "Sam!" until the woods rang again; but they heard in reply only the chirping of the crickets and the song of the katy-did, with now and then the far-off hoot of the owl.
They walked on until they reached the place where the children had been gathering sticks; it was by a tree which the storms of the last winter had blown down, scattering many small branches around.
"The children have certainly been here," said
their mother, "for the sticks are all lying round;
So on they went to the baker's shop. Yes, the children had brought him the sticks, and had started to go home just before dark; then some one else had seen them cross the stile which led into the woods.
"They must have missed the path, then," said Peter when he heard this, "and they are very likely now wandering about the woods;" and he turned to seek them there, his wife following, now too much frightened to be able to say much. They looked closely all along the path, trying to find some marks of their footsteps to tell them where they had left the path; but they could see none. Then they would wander off in one direction, then in another, until it was past midnight and the moon had risen; still no children were to be seen. These parents did not think of feeling tired or hungry; they were only anxious to find their little ones.
At
last they thought they heard a faint answer to their
oft-repeated calls. They called again and listened. Yes, it
was Maggie's voice crying, "Mother!" and this time it was
louder than before. They called again, and again they were
answered; and so they went on calling, each time hearing
the answer nearer to them, until they came close to the
rock where Maggie and Sam had been sleeping, and there they
found their dear children safe and sound. It would be hard
to say which were the happiest,
Their little bed had never seemed so comfortable before, as it did on that night, when they had taken their first nap on a rock under the trees, with no pillow and nothing to cover them.
This father was very kind to go out in the
night, when he was tired and hungry, to look for his lost
children; but Jesus our Lord and Saviour left his glorious
home in heaven, and came to this world to seek his lost
ones. All the little children in the world have wandered so
far from their Heavenly Father's home, that is, they have
sinned so much, that they never could find their way there
without this precious Saviour. He came to save
Suppose Maggie had not answered when her father had called, but had said to herself, "I can find the way; I don't want any one to come for me; I am not lost;" would she have got home that night? So those who refuse to come to Jesus, when He invites them, will never live with Him in heaven.
Maggie called to
her father, and he heard her; so little children have only
to pray to Jesus, and tell Him that they want to be saved,
and He will hear and save.
"M
"Mayn't we go across the meadow,
mamma?" begged the little girl; and when her mother said
"yes," both children clapped their hands. No wonder they
wanted to take that lovely walk over the new-mown hay,
under beautiful elms, where the little brook, after its
leap down the mountain-side, rippled merrily along, when
the
Soon the mother
stopped to rest; but her children rambled on, now kneeling
upon a log to drink
"Suppose we gather some wild flowers for mamma; you know she loves them better than any others," proposed Charlie. Then the children wandered further away, and did not return till laden with golden-rods, hare-bells, and immortelles.
"Isn't this a lovely little one? What is its name, mamma?" asked Gerty, holding up a small white flower.
"Yes, 'tis one of my favorites. Its French
name is
"Doesn't it die like the other flowers?" and Gerty raised her dark eyes in surprise.
"It will last a very long time, dear. Suppose I make you a crown of them as I used to do years ago."
Then the child, seated upon the grass, watched her mother lay the white flowers side by side, till at last the wreath was completed and little Gerty crowned.
"Look, Charlie, look!" she exclaimed. "Isn't my crown beautiful? It's made of everlastings, and will never fade."
"It will last a long time," said the
mother, drawing her child close to her side; but there is
only one crown which is truly everlasting, only one--
"Do you mean when I go to heaven, mamma?"
"Yes, darling; and I want both my children to think very often about 'the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love Him.' Does Charlie remember what prayer at baptism was offered for him and Gerty?"
Charlie thought for a moment, then said: "That we should fight manfully under Christ's banner, against sin, the world, and the devil, and continue His faithful servants and soldiers unto our lives' end.
"Quite right, my son; and if we truly love Christ, we will prove ourselves His faithful soldiers, by following in the footsteps of our great Captain, and striving, with His aid, more earnestly every day to obey His commands. 'Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life,' are Christ's words to his little soldiers; and if my children fight faithfully under His banner against temptations to do wrong, they will be happy while on earth, and crowned with everlasting life and joy in heaven."
"We'll try, won't we, Gerty?" whispered
Charlie; "and, mamma, I mean to write down some of those
crown texts, to hang in our play-room under Gerty's
wreath." And before that afternoon had
"Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."
"Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge will give me at that day, and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing."
And, lastly, one which both Charlie and Gerty thought they had better read very often.
"Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love Him."
If you will only love Him, dear little reader,
that crown will be promised to you -- promised by One who
on earth wore a crown of thorns, that in heaven you might
wear "a crown of glory that fadeth not away."
"Father," said little Ralph,
"I know the sheep-path better than you, and with Shag, who
will walk before me, I am quite safe; let me go for the
doctor,
Ralph had been accustomed to the mountains from his early infancy; and Shag set out with his young master, wagging his tail, and making many jumps and grimaces. They went safely on. Ralph arrived at the village, saw the doctor, received some medicine for his mother, and then commenced his return with a cheerful heart.
Shag went on before to ascertain that all was right. Suddenly, however, he stopped, and began snuffing and smelling about. "Go on, Shag," said Ralph. Shag would not stir. "Shag, go on, sir," repeated the boy; "we are nearly at the top of the glen." Shag appeared obstinate for the first time in his life; and at last Ralph advanced alone, heedless of the warning growl of his companion. He had proceeded but a few steps, when he fell over a precipice, which had been concealed by a snow-wreath.
Malcolm was waiting patiently for his
son; but no son came. At last he heard the bark of his
faithful dog Shag. "My son, my son!" cried both parents at
the same moment. The cottage-door opened, and Shag entered
without his master. "My brave boy has perished in the
snow!" exclaimed the mother. At the same moment the father
saw a small packet round the dog's neck, who was lying
panting on the floor. "Our boy
Shag went on straight and steadily
for some yards, and then suddenly turned down a path which
led to the bottom of the crag over which Ralph had fallen.
At last Malcolm stood at the lower edge of the pit into
which his son had fallen. He hallooed; he strained his
eyes; but could not see or hear any thing. At last Malcolm
succeeded in getting to the bottom, and Shag scrambled to a
projecting ledge of rock which was nearly imbedded in snow,
and commenced whining and scratching in a violent manner.
Malcolm followed, and, after a long search, found what
appeared to be the dead body of his son. He hastily tore
off the jacket, which was soaked with blood and snow, and
wrapping Ralph in his plaid, strapped him across his
shoulders, and with much toil and difficulty
reascended. Ralph was placed in a bed, and
"Ask, and it shall be given to you."
C
Yes, they are in the Bible, and were spoken by the Saviour, and He meant to teach us that God is a hearer and answerer of prayer.
Does God only hear grown-up people? Does He not also hear little children?
Yes, He does; and the story I am going to tell you is one of many instances that God hears and answers the prayers of even little children.
There lived a lady in Madras. Can my little friends tell me where Madras is?
Yes; it is in India,
where many English people live amongst a multitude of
heathen and Mohammedans. This lady had several children,
and she
The poor woman said: "I don't know what to do."
The lady asked her who she was, and whether she had any children.
She said: "I am the widow of a sepoy, [or black soldier,] and I have no children."
"Well, then," said the lady, "suppose you come into my house and help my ayah [or black nurse] to take care of my children."
The woman said she would be glad to do so. So Hoossainee--for this was the woman's name--came the following day, and having cleaned herself and put on decent clothes, she entered upon her duties.
Hoossainee was a Mohammedan, and believed that Mohammed was the prophet sent by God. She did not know the true God and our Saviour; but after she entered the lady's service she heard the Bible read by the Scripture-reader, who used to visit the house regularly to read the Bible to the servants in their own language.
Hoossainee was very grateful to the lady,
and proved diligent and faithful. After she had been
One day, when he was reading to his mamma, and she was speaking to him about the love of Christ to sinners, and what a precious Saviour He is to those that trust in Him, Johnny said: "O mamma! I wish Hoossainee was a Christian. Do you think, mamma, if I asked God, He would make Hoossainee a Christian?"
His mamma replied: "God is a hearer and answerer of prayer, my dear, and I doubt not, if you pray to Him, He will hear and answer you."
Immediately Johnny went on his knees and said: "O God! make my dear Hoossainee a Christian, for Jesus' sake." Then he added: "Mamma, I intend to pray this every day."
Johnny continued to pray for his nurse.
After some time, Hoossainee came to her mistress one day, and said: "Please, ma'am, may I speak with you?" The lady listened, and she continued: "I wish very much, ma'am, to be a Christian."
The lady
replied: "I am delighted to hear it, Hoossainee; but it
will be necessary that you should be perfectly instructed,
and that some missionary who knows your language should see
that
The lady then sent for her little boy, and said: "I have something to tell you, Johnny, that will make you very glad."
"O mamma! what is it? Do tell me, do tell me."
"What have you been asking God for, my dear?"
"That Hoossainee may be a Christian."
"Well, my dear, I hope God has heard and answered your prayer."
My little readers may imagine what joy Johnny felt when he heard the good news.
His mother said to him: "If you had asked papa for any thing, and he gave it to you, what would you do?"
"I would say, 'Thank you.' O mamma! I understand what you mean. Since God has given me what I asked for, I should thank Him."
So Johnny knelt, and returned thanks to his Heavenly Father for having heard and answered his prayer for his dear nurse.
The missionary was satisfied that Hoossainee was sincere and in earnest; he therefore baptized her, and gave her the name of Mary.
Now, my
little friends, you must remember that this lady had
several heathen servants, yet it pleased God that
Hoossainee should be the one to whom He
Should not this encourage you to pray for your
own souls and for the souls of others, and to continue in
prayer? for if we are earnest, we do not only ask once or
twice, but we continue to ask till we get what we want. God
loves this persevering faith, and will always reward
it.
S
First love Jesus, and then you will be sure to
love every body else, and every body else will love you.
D
Not by begging. You never saw any body,
perhaps,
Where do you suppose they get them?
Water-cresses grow where sweet spring-water runs in a shallow bed, only an inch or two deep, and runs fresh and sweet all the time. Nothing so fresh and sweet is in all London, or in any other very great city. The poor little cress-sellers can not go where it grows, to gather it for themselves; if they could, their faces would be a little less old and miserable, for the cress grows where the springs run, far, far away among the green fields and farms. Where do they find it?
You could not go to see, even if you were in London, for your mothers would never let you be up and out in the streets so early in the morning. You must be content to fancy you go, and let me tell you what you would see.
It is early, early in
the short November morning, long before daylight. This is
the time the little cress-sellers must go to the
cress-market, for if they are not about the streets with
their bunches of cresses in time for the mechanics'
breakfasts, they will lose their labor. They don't sell the
cresses much to rich people. It is carpenters, and masons,
and cobblers, and smiths and such people, that are their
customers; and those always go to their work early. So it
is dark and cold when the poor little cress-sellers turn
out of what beds they have, and set off toward the
cress-market. Almost every
When we get to the market, we see a large open place inside the rails. That is the place; but no-body is there yet. All is quiet; the market-shops are shut; there are bright lamps burning over the iron gates; but no people. You can hear an early cock crowing from some yard near by. He knows, somehow, that it is morning. May be he is crowing to warm himself. The first thing we see is a man who comes hurrying up with a great tin can in each hand, and a stall, or wooden frame, upon his head. That isn't cresses; it's coffee. He pitches his stall just by the gates, and lights some charcoal under his cans, and sets a row of mugs on the stone wall, between the railings. He knows people will be here directly who will want breakfast. He has bread and butter, too, besides the coffee, in his cans, and perhaps he has sandwiches. You don't want any? No; but don't forget to thank Him who has given you something better.
The cresses are brought to market
in great hampers from the country; but they are not here
yet. The coustomers are coming though -- creeping up one by
one, and dressed in all sorts of rags.
At
last come the hampers of cresses, and the women who sell
them, tucking their hands under their shawls for the cold.
But these women look comfortable, each one has a bit of
candle stuck in the centre of her open hamper, which lights
up the green cresses and the faces of the children and poor
old people who crowd round to buy. The cresses are sold at
so much a "hand" and a "hand" will make five ha'penny
bunches. The children take their cresses to the pump when
they have bought them, and freshen them up, and then make
them
Meanwhile it is growing light, and the gas-man comes and turns off the gas. The bustle of the morning begins; market-men are hurrying about, and the children are crying because their feet are stepped upon, and the buyers are hurrying off with their cresses. Many children, better off than they, think nothing of stealing sixpence for their pleasure. There are plenty of bad examples around them to teach the bad lesson; but these little water-cress sellers choose rather the early rising, the cold walk, with bare feet on the stones, and the hard-earned pennies, to a living got by dishonesty.
Buy my fine spring water-cress: For breakfast or for tea, Nothing can nicer be-- Fresh water-cresses! Buy my fine spring water-cresses; Fine they are as any; Two bunches for a penny-- Fresh water-cresses! But my fine spring water-cresses; Oh! do not turn away; Please, take a bunch to-day-- Fresh water-cresses!
The word Advent means "coming." Christmas,the
birth-day of Jesus, is coming, and we must be ready for it.
So our mother--as some good people love to call the
Church--has given us four weeks for preparation. And on the
four Advent Sundays the Bible chapters which are read at
service tell us all about how the blessed Jesus came into
the world a little baby, that he was born in a stable, and
laid in a manger, in the village of Bethlehem. And about
the shepherds who saw the beautiful light in the sky, and
heard the music, and saw the angels who told that Jesus was
come, and of the wonderful star which the wise men in a
far
M
They were a very happy family, for they loved and feared God, and were contented with their lot. But one night John did not come home as usual from his work, and Mary, after waiting a long time, gave the sleepy children their supper and put them to bed. She then walked down the lane, expecting every moment to meet her husband, but could see nothing of him. She sat down on a stile, and waited as long as she dared leave her little ones alone, then sadly turned her steps homeward again. Her heart was full of anxious fears, for never before had such a thing occurred; but she tried to cast her care upon the Lord, and, asking His protection, lay down to rest beside her sleeping children.
Morning came again, but no tidings of the missing husband; and so day after day passed away, each one taking something from the hope of his return, till poor Mary's heart grew sick within her with hope deferred, and her eyes were dim with weeping.
The neighbors sympathized with her at first; but it was a time of war, and many of them had sons and brothers in danger, and so they soon forgot Mary's troubles in attending to their own.
Mary struggled hard to support herself and
children, and Tommy did his best to help her. He was up
every morning as soon as it was light, hoeing and weeding
in the garden. Then, when his mother had gathered the
vegetables, and tied up the flowers in bunches, he would
trudge off to market with
They
had a cow, too, and it was Tommy's business to carry the
milk to their customers every day. A small quantity was
always kept for Susy, who was a sickly child, but all the
rest was sold, and Tommy and his mother seldom tasted any
thing but a little brown bread and cold water. Mary took in
spinning and knitting, and all day long, and often half the
night, her fingers were busy. Tommy and Susy, too, were
able to do a little in the same way; yet, with all their
exertions, they could scarcely do more than pay the rent
and buy food for themselves and the cow; and when winter
came, and they had nothing from the garden, and the cow
gave less milk than before, they had a hard struggle
indeed, and so it happened that they fell behind with the
rent, and the man whose business it was to collect for the
landlord began to look threateningly when Mary begged for a
little more delay. Yet he waited pretty patiently, for he
knew they had always been punctual, and that they would pay
it when they could. At last spring came again, and once
more they dug and planted their little garden. The cow,
But one evening he came in very cross indeed, and told them he must have his money at once, for he would not wait any longer. Mary explained how impossible it was for her to pay him then, and begged him, with tears in her eyes, to wait a few weeks longer.
"No," said he; "I've waited already two months or more, and I'll not wait another day. If the rent is not made up by to-morrow night I'll take your cow, and you and your brats may go to the work-house, or wherever else you like, for I mean to have somebody in here that will pay the rent."
So saying he strode angrily away, and poor Mary, sinking down on a chair, covered her face with her apron, and sobbed aloud.
"Don't cry, mammy," said Tommy, the tears running fast down his own cheeks, "God will take care of us; you know you've often told me so."
His mother shook her head.
"I don't see any way, Tommy," said she; "I believe we'll have to go to the work-house, for you know we've sold every article we could possibly do without; we've but one bed and one chair left, and so there's no way at all to raise the money."
"May be daddy might come back," suggested Tommy, in a hesitating way, as though he feared to pain his mother by the mention of the name.
"Oh! no, no," sobbed Mary, "he's dead and gone, or he never would have left us a whole year without a word from him."
There was a little pause. Then Tommy spoke again:
"Mammy," said he, "you've
often told me that God hears prayer; let us ask
"Yes, Tommy, you're right," said his mother. "I've been very wicked to be so faithless. We'll ask Him now."
So they knelt down, and the children joined earnestly with their mother in asking help from their heavenly Father in this their time of sore distress. They then lay down to rest with hearts more than half lightened of this load of care. They rose early as usual on the following morning, and Mary's first thought was, "Where is the rent to come from?" But Tommy said, as he started off with his bucket of milk:
"Never fear, mammy, I
"Yes, I believe it, my son," replied his mother,
smiling cheerfully as she took up her rake and went to work
in the garden. Tommy walked briskly
As he was thus passing along, intent upon his work, a voice suddenly cried out: "Hollo, Tommy Houghton!" He turned and saw the postman coming towards him with a bundle of letters in his hand. Quickly selecting one, he reached it out to Tommy, saying:
"There, I 'spose that must be for your mother. Mary Houghton--that's her name, isn't it?"
"Yes, and that's daddy's writin'" shouted Tommy,
dropping his milk-bucket, and throwing up his cap; "hurrah!
hurrah! now
"O mammy, mammy!" he cried, rushing up to her as she was still at work in the garden, "here is a letter from dad!"
His mother had turned to
look at his first exclamation, and ere he had concluded she
had dropped her rake, and snatching the letter from his
hand, she tore it open. She saw at a glance that it
contained money, and more than enough to pay her rent; but
the tears of joy and gratitude came so thick and fast that
it was some time ere she could see to read it. It was
indeed from her lost husband. He told her that on the
evening of his disappearance he had worked later than
usual, and on
"There, mammy, didn't I tell you so? I knew God would take care of us," said Tommy, as his mother finished reading the letter to him and Susy; "and now daddy's comin' home, and we'll be better off than ever with all the money he's got."
Dear children, go to God
with all your wants and sorrows, for "He is a very present
help in every time of trouble."
[T
T
"What do you do without a mother to tell all your troubles to?" asked a child who had a mother, of one who had not; her mother was dead.
"Mother told me whom to go to before she died," answered the little orphan. "I go to the Lord Jesus. He was mother's Friend, and He's mine."
"Jesus Christ is up in the sky; He is away off, and has a great many things to attend to in heaven. It is not likely He can stop to mind you."
"I do not know any thing about that," said the
orphan; "all I know,