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LITTLE ALFRED.
BY
THE AUTHOR OF “LITTLE ELLA.”
Behold I have prepared the tenderest grass
That grows on Zion’s hill. Here feeble lambs
May find sweet nourishment, and gather strength
To climb the verdant heights, where the fair flock
On richer pasture feed.—PEEP OF DAY.
EDITED BY D. P. KIDDER.
New-York:
PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT,
FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION OF THE METHODIST
EPISCOPAL CHURCH, 200 MULBERRY-ST.
Joseph Longking, Printer.
1850.
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the
year 1847, by Lane & Tippett, in the Clerk’s Office
of the District Court of the Southern District of
New-York.
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PREFACE.
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I have written this book for little boys. I hope they may like it;
although it does not contain any wonderful stories about giants, or
genii, or fairies.
I wanted to do them good, as well as to amuse them. Although I do not
mention the name of the Saviour in every chapter, I yet try to talk of
things that will lead their minds up to him. I wish them to feel how
good he has been to them, in giving them kind parents to teach them his
word, health to enjoy the beauties of creation, and in bestowing on them
so many other mercies.
That they may love the Redeemer in their early years, and at last dwell
with him in heaven, is the prayer of their friend,
THE AUTHOR.
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CONTENTS.
Chap. Page
I. —Summer Pleasures 9
II. —A Contrast 14
III. —The Snow 23
IV. —The Sled and the Skates 26
V. —Scripture Instruction 31
VI. —Little Samuel 43
VII. —The Farewell—The Return Home 51
VIII. —God’s Call to the Little 56
Prophet
IX. —Rupert’s Sunday Ride 62
X. —Sunday Evening—Talk with 69
Rupert
XI. —The Commandments 72
XII. —Love makes Obedience easy 86
XIII. —Prompt Obedience 91
XIV. —The Disobedient Chicken 98
XV. —About many good Things 103
XVI. —The Obedient Boy 108
XVII. —Pierre Merlin 112
XVIII. —The Silly Bird 124
XIX. —Joy in Heaven—The Runaways 129
XX. —The Rescue—Welcome Home 135
XXI. —The Little Dogs 143
XXII. —Forbidden Fruit 150
XXIII. —Happy Children 160
XXIV. —The School-house 165
XXV. —The Sugar-plums 171
XXVI. —The Robins 177
XXVII. —The Prophet—His Deliverer 181
XXVIII. —Little William 187
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LITTLE ALFRED.
CHAPTER I
SUMMER PLEASURES.
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Up! let us to the fields away,
And breathe the fresh and balmy air:
The bird is building in the tree,
The flower has open’d to the bee,
And health, and love, and peace are there.
MARY HOWITT.
ALFRED PENROSE was a little boy who lived in a pretty town on the banks
of the Connecticut River. We will call the place in which Alfred lived
Norwood, although that is not its real name.
When the weather was warm Alfred’s father would often take him and his
older brothers in a little boat upon the river. Sometimes they would row
to a pleasant creek, over which large trees drooped their branches until
they touched the water. There Alfred’s father and brothers would catch
fish, which they carried home to have cooked for breakfast the next
morning. They were not cruel enough to use worms for bait. They baited
their hook with pieces of raw meat, or dough, which the fish liked quite
as well as worms.
While Alfred’s brothers helped their father to fish, the little boy
would steal away from them to a small brook which ran through the meadow
where his father allowed him to go by himself, because there was no
danger. Mr. Penrose did not like to have Alfred too near him when he was
fishing. The little fellow’s merry laugh and loud voice frightened away
the fish. So, as we have said, Alfred would steal away to the little
brook, and launch the shingle boat, with its paper sails, which his
brother Harry had made for him; or pick his way across the brook on the
stepping stones to the sunny bank, in search of the beautiful flowers
which peep forth from among the withered leaves of the last year. And
handfuls of the pretty light blue flower called innocence would he
gather, for it is found everywhere in its season, smiling in wood and
meadow, by shaded streams, and in the glittering sunshine.
O, very pleasant was the budding spring-time, and the rich, ripe summer
season, to little Alfred!
Then they would often bring their dinner with them, and eat it by the
pebbly brook, which sung its sweet tune to them as it danced along, and
mingled its voice with the merry birds which saluted them from the trees
above their heads.
Alfred’s father always received his son’s little love-offering of
flowers with a smile.
“I am glad my little boy loves flowers,” he would say. “They are God’s
beautiful presents to us. How sweetly Jesus speaks of flowers in Matthew
vi, 28-30:
“Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither
do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his
glory, was not arrayed like one of these.
“Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is,
and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you,
O ye of little faith?”
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