to the prow, and stands there looking out upon the waves, which seem
ready to overwhelm the vessel. The disciples are greatly terrified. One
of them is kneeling near the place where Jesus stands, and is praying
to God for mercy. The others are behind. They are equally afraid. The
sails have been torn by the wind, and are flying away. Jesus extends
his hand, and says to the winds and waves, “Peace! be still!”
The anchor of the ship is seen in the engraving hanging over the bow.
But the anchor, in such a case as this, is useless. The water is
too deep in the middle of the lake for it to reach the bottom; and,
besides, if it were possible to anchor the vessel in such a place, it
would do more harm than good, for any confining of the ship, in such a
sea, would only help the waves to fill it the sooner.
[Sidenote: Navigation of mountain lakes.]
The people who live on the borders of the lakes that lie among the
mountains often go out upon them in boats. Sometimes they go to fish,
sometimes to make passages to and fro along the lake, when there is no
convenient road by land, and sometimes they go to bring loads of hay or
sheaves of grain home from some field which lies at a distance from the
house, and is near the margin of the water.
[Sidenote: Tempests and storms.]
When a storm arises on the lake after the boat has gone out, the people
who remain at home are often very anxious, fearing that the boats may
have been overwhelmed by the waves. Over the leaf there is a picture
of people watching for the return of a man and boy who have gone out
on the lake. They went out in the middle of the day, and, though it is
now night, they have not returned. The family are anxious about their
safety, for in the middle of the afternoon there was a violent storm of
thunder and lightning, with dreadful gusts of wind and pouring rain.
The storm has now entirely passed away, and the moon, which has just
risen, shines serenely in the sky. Still the boat does not return. The
family fear that it may have foundered in the storm.
[Sidenote: Conversation in Marie’s cottage.]
The family live in a cottage on the margin of the lake. Marie, the wife
of the man and the mother of the boy that went away in the boat, is
very anxious and unhappy.
“Do you think that they are lost?” she said to Orlando.
Orlando was her oldest son.
“Oh no,” replied Orlando. “When the black clouds began to come up in
the sky, and they heard the thunder, they would go to the shore, and
draw up their boat there till the storm was over. And now that the
water is smooth again, and the air calm, I presume they are somewhere
coming home.”
“But how can they find their way home in the darkness of the night?”
said Marie.
“There is a moon to-night,” said Marie’s father. He was an old man, and
he was sitting at this time in the chimney-corner.
“Yes, there is a moon,” replied Marie, “but it is half hidden by the
broken clouds that are still floating in the sky.”
“I will light the lantern,” said Orlando, “and go out, and hold it up
on a high part of the shore. They will then see the light of it, and it
will guide them in.”
[Sidenote: Orlando and Bruno.]
Bruno was lying before the fire while this conversation was going
on. He was listening to it very attentively, though he could not
understand it all. He knew some words, and he learned from the words
which he heard that they were talking about the boat and the water, and
Pierre, the man who was gone. So, when Orlando rose, and went to get
the lantern, Bruno started up too, and followed him. He did not know
whether there would be any thing that he could do, but he wished to be
ready at a moment’s notice, in case there should be any thing.
[Sidenote: Anna and the baby.]
He stood by Orlando’s side, and looked up very eagerly into his face
while he was taking down the lantern, and then went with him out to the
door. The old man went out too. He went down as near as he could get
to the shore of the pond, in order to look off over the water. Orlando
remained nearer the door of the cottage, where the land was higher, and
where he thought the lantern could be better seen. Marie, with her baby
in her arms, and her little daughter, Anna, by her side, came out to
the steps of the door. Bruno took his place by Orlando’s side, ready
to be called upon at any time, if there should be any thing that he
could do, and looking eagerly over the water to see whether he could
not himself make some discoveries.
[Illustration: Watching for the boat.]
He would have liked to have held the lantern, but it would not have
been possible for him to have held it sufficiently high.
Just at this time the moon began to come out from behind the clouds,
and its light was reflected beautifully on the waters of the lake, and
the old man obtained, as he thought, a glimpse of a dark object gliding
slowly along over the surface of the distant water.
[Sidenote: The boat is coming.]
“They are coming!” he exclaimed. “They are coming! I see them coming!”
Bruno saw the boat too, and he soon began to leap about and bark to
express his joy.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Excellence of Bruno’s behavior.]
Thus Bruno always felt an interest in all that interested his master,
and he stood by ready to help, even when there was nothing for him to
do. It is always a source of great pleasure to a father to observe that
his boy takes an interest in what he is doing, and stands ready to help
him, provided always that he does not interrupt the work by asking
questions. This Bruno never did. He never interrupted work in any way,
and least of all by asking questions.
[Illustration: Play.]
It is far more manly and noble for boys to take an interest, sometimes,
in useful work, than to be wholly absorbed, as some boys are, all the
time in idle play.
TAKING AN INTEREST.
[Sidenote: Important difference between the dog and the horse.]
There is a great difference between the dog and the horse, in respect
to the interest which they take in any work which they have to do. A
horse does not like to work. He never runs to his master to be saddled
when his master wishes to go and take a ride. If he runs either way,
he runs off. If you wish any time to take a ride in a wagon, and you
go into the pasture to find your horse, it is often very hard work to
catch him. He knows that you are going to harness him up, and give
him something to do, and he does not like to do it; so away he goes,
bounding over the pasture, and looking back, first over one shoulder,
and then over the other, to see whether you are pursuing him.
It is very different with the dog. As soon as he sees his master
take down his hat and cane, he jumps up and runs to accompany him.
He desires, above all things, to accompany his master wherever he
goes, that he may protect him, and render him any other service which
occasion may require.
It is true that a dog does not generally like to be harnessed into a
wagon, and draw, but the reason of this probably is, that drawing a
load is not a work that he is by nature fitted for. He is not properly
built for such work. His shoulders are not fitted to receive a collar,
and his feet are not of the right form to take good hold of the ground.
The nature and qualities of the dog fit him for other duties, and these
duties he is always greatly interested in performing. If his master is
a traveler, he is always ready to set out on the journey with him. If
his master stays at home, he is always on the watch about the house,
guarding the premises, and ready to do any thing that he may be called
upon to do. In a word, such duties as he is at all qualified for by his
nature and habits, he is always ready to perform with alacrity and with
hearty good-will.
[Sidenote: Supposed black pony. How valuable such a pony would be.]
What a fine thing it would be for a boy to have a horse of such a
disposition--a little black pony, I will suppose--just large enough
for the boy to harness and drive! Suppose you had such a pony. You
take the bridle, and go out into the pasture for him some day when
you feel inclined to take a ride. As soon as you enter the pasture,
you call him. Immediately on hearing your voice, he runs out of the
thicket where he was lying in the shade, and ascends an eminence near,
so that he can see. He looks all around to find where the voice comes
from, and when he sees you with the bridle in your hand, he immediately
feels proud and happy at the thought of being employed, and he comes
galloping toward you, prancing and capering in a very joyous manner.
As soon as he gets near you, he ceases his prancing, and, walking up to
you, he holds his head down that you may put the bridle on. As soon as
the bridle is buckled, you put the bridle-rein over his neck, and say,
“There! run along, pony!”
So your pony runs along before you, looking back from time to time,
first over one shoulder, and then over the other, not to see whether
you are pursuing him, in order that he may escape, but to be sure that
you are following him, and that he is going the right way. When he gets
to the gate, he waits till you come to open it for him; or, if he has
ingenuity enough to lift up the latch himself, he opens the gate and
goes through, and then waits outside till you come. As soon as you have
gone through the gate, he trots off to the barn. He does not know yet
whether you are going to put the saddle on, or to harness him into your
little wagon. But he is equally ready for either. He looks forward with
great pleasure to the thought of carrying you along over a pleasant
road, cantering merrily up and down the hills; and he resolves that he
will take special care not to stumble or fall with you. Or, if he finds
that you prefer riding in the wagon that day, he thinks how pleasant
it will be to trot along over the road with you, and give you a good
drive. If you stop any where by the way, he waits patiently where you
leave him until you come back again. If he is in the wagon, he stands
very still, lest he should do some damage to the vehicle by moving
about. If he has a saddle on, he walks out to the road-side, perhaps,
to crop the grass a little while he is waiting, but he lifts up his
head now and then to see if you are coming, in order that he may be all
ready to go on again when you wish to go.
It would certainly be a fine thing to have such a pony as that.
[Sidenote: How useful and valuable such a boy would be.]
But for a man, it is a finer thing to have such a _boy_ as that. I
never knew such ponies, but I have often known such boys. They take
a special interest and pleasure in being useful, and especially in
assisting their father and mother in any thing, no matter what it is,
that their father and mother wish to do. They feel proud and happy to
be employed, and come always with a ready alacrity whenever they are
called upon, and to do what they can do with a hearty good-will.
[Sidenote: Georgie at the raising. The way he acted.]
Boys sometimes take an interest of the wrong kind in what their fathers
are doing--that is, an interest which seeks for their own pleasure
and amusement, and not for the furtherance of the work. There was a
farmer, for instance, once, who had two sons, Lawrence and Georgie.
The farmer was building a shed, and when the shed was framed, the
carpenters came one afternoon to raise it. Lawrence was away from home
when the carpenters came, having gone to mill, but Georgie was very
much interested in the raising, and he brought several of the boys
of the neighborhood to see it. With these boys he played about among
the timbers of the frame, running along upon them from end to end, or
jumping over them. He made a great deal of noise in singing to express
his joy, and in calling to his companions.
“Georgie,” said his father, at last, “be still, or I shall send you
away.”
His father should have sent him away at once, instead of threatening to
do so if he was not still.
[Sidenote: Boring.]
Georgie was still after this, for he knew that his father would do as
he said; but he soon found out other means of making trouble besides
noise. He and the other boys went to one of the carpenters, who was
boring a hole, and he began to beg the carpenter to let him take the
auger and bore it.
“I can bore,” said he.
“I see you can,” said the carpenter, “but I wish you would not come
here and bore me.”
The other carpenters who were near laughed at hearing this, and
Georgie, not liking to be laughed at, walked away to another part of
the work. Here he began to ask questions, such as what this beam was
for, and what tenon was going into that mortice, and whether such and
such a hole was not bored wrong. All these questions interrupted the
workmen, confused them in their calculations, and hindered the work. At
last, Georgie’s father told him not to ask any more questions, but to
keep perfectly still.
[Sidenote: He and the other boys make a balancer.]
His father would, in fact, have sent him away entirely, were it not
that he was wanted from time to time to do an errand, or fetch a tool.
These errands, however, he did very slowly and reluctantly, so that
he was of little service. Finally, he proposed to the boys that they
should make a balancer, and they did so. They put up one short beam of
wood upon another, and then, placing a plank across, two of the boys
got on, one at each end, and began see-sawing up and down. This was
their balancer.
“Isn’t it good fun,” said Georgie, as he went up into the air, “to have
a raising?”
“Yes,” said the other boy, who was then down by the ground.
“I hope they won’t get through to-night,” said Georgie, coming down,
“and then we can have some more fun to-morrow.”
[Sidenote: A fall.]
Just then the upper beam, which supported the balancer, fell off, and
the plank, with the boys on it, came to the ground. There was now a
great outcry. Georgie’s father and some of the carpenters came to see
if the boys were hurt. They were not seriously hurt, but the accident
occasioned quite an interruption to the raising.
So Georgie’s father, finding that the trouble which Georgie made him
was greater far than any service that he rendered, sent him away.
Now this is not the right way to take an interest in what your father
or mother is doing.
[Sidenote: Lawrence comes home.]
Lawrence got back from the mill just as Georgie went away. He
immediately came and took Georgie’s place. He stationed himself near
his father, so as to be ready to do any thing which might be required
whenever he should be called upon. He observed carefully every thing
that was done, but he asked no questions. If he saw that a tool was
wanted, or going to be wanted, he brought it, so as to have it all
ready the moment it should be required. Thus, although he could not do
much substantial work himself, he assisted the men who could do it very
much, and rendered very effectual service, so that the raising went on
very prosperously, and was finished that night, greatly to his father’s
satisfaction.
[Sidenote: Conversation at the supper-table.]
At supper that night the farmer took his seat at the table. His wife
sat opposite to him. Lawrence was on one side, and Georgie on the other.
“Have you finished the raising?” said his wife.
“Yes,” said the farmer, “we have finished it. I did not expect to get
through. But we _have_ got through, and it is all owing to Lawrence.”
“Did he help you?” asked his wife.
“Yes,” said the farmer; “he forwarded the work, I think, a full half
hour, and that just saved us.”
Now that is the right kind of interest to take in what your father and
mother are doing.
[Sidenote: Another incident.]
At another time, one night after Georgie and Lawrence had gone to bed,
they heard a sort of thumping sound out in the barn.
“Hark!” said Lawrence; “what is that noise?”
Georgie said he thought it could not be any thing of consequence, and
so he shut up his eyes, and prepared to go to sleep. But Lawrence,
though he was equally sleepy, felt afraid that something might be the
matter with one of the horses; so he got up and went to his father’s
room, and told his father about the noise. His father immediately rose
and dressed himself, and went down to the barn.
“Georgie,” said Lawrence, “let us get up too. Perhaps we can help.”
“Oh no,” said Georgie, sleepily, “there is nothing that _we_ could do.”
“I can hold the lantern, at any rate,” said Lawrence, “and do some
good, perhaps, in that way.” So Lawrence dressed himself and went down
stairs, while Georgie went to sleep again.
[Sidenote: Lawrence takes an interest in his father’s concerns.]
Lawrence got out into the barn just in time to find that the horse had
fallen down, and had got entangled in his halter, so that he was in
danger of choking to death.
“Ah, Lawrence!” said his father, “you are just in time. I want you to
hold the lantern for me.”
So Lawrence took the lantern, and held it while his father disentangled
the halter, and got the horse up. Lawrence, who was much interested all
the time, held the lantern in the best possible way for his father to
see.
“That’s right,” said his father; “hold the lantern so that you can see
yourself, and then you may be sure that I can see.”
That is the right kind of interest for boys to take in what their
father or mother are doing.
That was, in fact, the kind of interest that Bruno took. He was always
on the watch for opportunities to do good, and when he saw that he
could not do any more good, he was extremely careful not to make any
trouble.
[Illustration: Driving the sheep to pasture in the morning.]
[Sidenote: Bruno sits waiting for orders.]
He would stand or sit silently by, looking on and watching what was
going forward with great interest, ready to act the moment that he was
called upon, as you see in the opposite engraving. They are driving
some sheep to pasture very early in the morning. It was dark when they
first came out with the flock, and so they brought a lantern; but the
sun has risen now, and it is light. Although it was very early when the
men set out with the flock, Bruno was eager to come with them. He has
helped to drive the sheep all the way. They have reached the pasture
at last, and there is now nothing more for him to do. So he is sitting
down to rest, and contemplating with great satisfaction, while he
rests, the accomplishment of the work which was to be done, and ready
to do any thing more that may be required without a moment’s delay.
In the distance, in the engraving, a river is seen, meandering through
a rich and beautiful country, with the beams of the morning sun
reflected from the surface of the water.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: A good conscience.]
The satisfaction which results from the faithful performance of duty
is a very solid and substantial pleasure. It endures long, and has no
alloy. There is something manly and noble in the very nature of it, and
he who makes it the end and aim of all his efforts in his search for
happiness is sure of a rich reward.
[Sidenote: They who are not faithful in duty can never be happy.]
Learn from the example of Bruno, then, to find your happiness in the
diligent and faithful performance of duty. “Duty first, and pleasure
afterward,” is the true rule for all. They who seek pleasure first,
or, rather, who look for their happiness in personal and selfish
gratifications, lead a very low and groveling life, and never exemplify
the true nobleness and dignity to which the human soul should aspire.
Nor do they ever attain to any real or permanent happiness. They
experience a continual feeling of self-reproach and self-condemnation
which mars all their enjoyments, and adds a fresh ingredient
of bitterness to all their sorrows. In a word, they are always
dissatisfied with themselves, and he who is dissatisfied with himself
can never be happy.
THE END.
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