lesson from the Bible in that deliberate fashion so usual with chaps of
six, and when he came to the passage, "Keep thy tongue from evil and thy
lips from guile," he drawled out, with a decided emphasis,
"Keep--thy--tongue from evil; and thy lips from--from--_girls_." Of
course, there followed an explosion. "Job was an oyster-man; and the
Lord, he shot him with four balls," if we may believe a new reading of
what was intended for Scripture: "Somebody was an _austere_ man; and the
Lord smote him with sore boils."
No. 152. _Children and Fools are said to speak the Truth._--"Be you
good?" said a little chap to Miss Bella M----, of the sabbath-school
here.
"O no!" was the becoming reply.
"You ain't! well I knew you wasn't pretty, but I always thought you was
good."
No. 153. The following sweet lines are too good for abridgment, or
paraphrase. I know not where they originated; nor who was the author.
Was there ever anything more childlike and beautiful than "Mamma, God
knows all the rest?"--or ever lines worthier of the text?
THE UNFINISHED PRAYER.
"Now I lay"--repeat it, darling;
'Lay me,' lisped the tiny lips
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending
O'er her folded finger-tips.
"Down to sleep"--'To sleep,' she murmured,
And the curly head dropped low;
"I pray the Lord"--I gently added,
You can say it all, I know.
"'Pray the Lord'--the word came faintly,
Fainter still--'My soul to keep;'
Then the tired head fairly nodded,
And the child was fast asleep.
"But the dewy eyes half opened
When I clasped her to my breast,
And the dear voice softly whispered,
'Mamma, God knows all the rest.'"
No. 154. _Natural Language._--A youngster of only two and a half, who
had often heard complaints in the family about pegs hurting the feet,
stole up to his mother one day, with his fingers in his mouth, and said,
"Mamma! O mamma! Me dut pegs tummin in my mouf, and dey hurts Billy." On
further examination, he was found to be cutting no less than three
little teeth.
No. 155. _An embryo Theologian._--A little boy, disputing one day with
his elder sister upon some Bible question, sung out, "I tell ye, it's
true! for Ma says so; an' if Ma says so, it is so, if it ain't so." That
boy's career is evident enough. Submission to authority, and sheer
dogmatism, will be likely to overtop the pretensions of private
judgment.
No. 156. _Budding Subterfuges._--A little girl, belonging to Hartford,
Connecticut, was called to account one day by her mother for killing
flies. The amusement had become a serious occupation, and her dexterity
in catching them was only to be matched by her astonishing aptitude in
killing them. Her mother had begun to be frightened. "Mary, my love,"
said she, "don't you know that God loves the little flies?"
Mary stood for a few moments, lost in thought, her beautiful countenance
growing sadder and sadder, as if her conscience had begun to testify
against her in a whisper, just as poor Herod's might have done, after
the slaughter of _his_ innocents. At last, having apparently settled the
question with herself, she stole up to the nearest window where a big
blue-bottle was blundering and bumping about, and buzzing at a fearful
rate. After watching it for several minutes, with a piteous expression,
as if her heart were too full for speech, she began whispering just
loud enough to be heard by her mother, "Do ee fy know dat Dod loves oo?
Duz oo love Dod?"--stretching out her little hand as if to soothe its
evident terror. "Duz oo? Duz oo want to zee Dod?--well," in a tone of
the tenderest commiseration, putting her finger on the fly, and crushing
it softly against the glass--"Well--oo sal!"
No. 157. _A young Nero._--And this reminds me of something told me by
General Fessenden, the father of all the general Fessendens we know of.
"When I was a little fellow," said he, "not more than so high, the Old
Adam within me (what we Phrenologists call Destructiveness, he meant)
led me to pull off the wings of flies, and to impale them on pins, and
set them buzzing at the end of a hair. My father, in passing one day,
stopped long enough to catch me in the act. '_Nero!_' said he, and
passed on. 'Well,' said I to myself, 'what did he mean by that?
_Nero--Nero_--I'll ask somebody.' I did so--found out who Nero was, and
from that day to this, have never tormented any of God's creatures! And
yet, he was a lawyer, in large practice--and I believed him--that is, I
believed him, till I knew better."
No. 158. _Total Depravity._--"Do you say your prayers every day, my
little man--every night and morning?" said a mother in Israel to a
little reprobate of a shoe-black, to whom she had just given a trifle.
"Yes 'm,--I alluz says 'em at night, mum; but any smart boy can alluz
take care o' hisself in the daytime," was the reply.
No. 159. _Infant Theology._--A visitor of large experience in
sabbath-schools, asked the children at a crowded examination, "What was
the sin of the Pharisees?" "Eatin' camels, ma'am," said one of the
smartest, who had carried off many a prize. On further questioning, the
child justified, by referring to the passage, where the Pharisees were
said to strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.
No. 160. _Sabbath-school Exercise._--But an English gentlewoman once
told me of something she herself had witnessed at a great London
sabbath-school examination, where a celebrated questioner called out a
little bright-eyed boy, by name, and asked him why Joseph refused to go
to bed with Potiphar's wife, when she asked him. A dead silence
followed, and then a look of amazement and consternation over all the
house, like a cloud: "'Cause he wan't sleepy," said the boy. A dead
silence followed; and then a most unseemly titter, on every side, so
that the questioner's indiscretion seemed to be entirely lost sight of.
No. 161. _Effectual Prayer._--A little boy in Jamaica went to the
missionary, and told him that he had been very ill, and often wished for
the minister to come and pray with him.
"But, Thomas," said the missionary, "I hope you prayed for yourself?"
"O yes, indeed!"
"Well--and how did you pray?"
"O, I jess begged."
Another child in a Sunday-school, only six at most, said, "When we kneel
down here in the school-room to pray, it seems to me as if my heart was
talking with God."
Another little girl, just turning four, on being questioned why she
prayed to God, answered--
"Because I know He hears me, and so I love to pray to Him."
"But how do you know He hears you?"
Putting her little hand upon her heart, she whispered, "O, I know He
does, mamma, because there is something here that tells me so."
No. 162. _Tit for Tat._--A pretty four-year-old midget went out to play
on the sidewalk. When she returned with wet and muddy feet, showing that
she had been somewhere else, her mother began to look serious; whereupon
the child, anticipating the worst, murmured, with her head in her
mother's lap, "Now, mamma, you be _dood_ to me, and I'll be _dood_ to
you."
No. 163. _A very proper Distinction._--A little thing, not quite old
enough to understand her catechism, getting puzzled over the question,
"Who made you?" went for the answer to her mother. Having been told that
God made her, and all her little friends, and the whole human family,
she lost no time in communicating the discovery to Daisy Dean, her doll
of only one summer. Taking the little one on her knee, and looking very
solemn, she said, "Now, Daisy Dean, look me right in the eyes: I want to
tell 'oo somesin. Dod _made_ grampa--and gramma--and me--and papa and
mamma; but----" after a pause, and shaking her head slowly and
impressively--"_but_, Daisy Dean, Dod only _sewed_ you."
No. 164. _Human Nature._--A boy of about five, a bagfull of bumble-bees
at the best, when required to be still on the Sabbath, getting weary
toward nightfall, went up to his father, who had no little of the
Puritan mingled with his affection for the child, and said to him, with
great seriousness,--"Come, pa, let's have some spiritual fun." This was
a little too much for papa's gravity; and so he let him have it--for
once.
No. 165. _Courtesy._--"A Brooklyn friend, who believes in catechism, and
teaches it with unflinching pertinacity, worthy of Calvin or Luther,"
says somebody--"was putting one of four through his paces one day, when
the question came up, 'Who tempted Eve?' The little fellow answered,
after some consideration, with a look of triumph, pointing to the floor,
'It's the gentleman that lives _down there_--I forget his name.'" For
"_down there_," the reader is at liberty to substitute another phrase,
if he happens not to be of the mealy-mouthed.
No. 166. _Doll-Factory._--A preacher in the neighborhood of Lewiston had
a little daughter, who had gone into the business of manufacturing paper
dolls. In the midst of a sermon, lately, he drew out his
pocket-handkerchief, in somewhat of a hurry, and lo! the whole air was
filled with what seemed at first to be Japanese butterflies. When they
settled, however, they were found to be paper dolls, about fifty in
number, which had been stowed away in his pocket-handkerchief, by his
little one, for safe keeping. The audience appeared to enjoy the rest of
the sermon exceedingly.
No. 167. _Undiluted Orthodoxy._--A little girl was much in the habit of
reproving her dolls for misbehavior, and sometimes after a most alarming
fashion. Her mother overheard her one day, while she was taking the
prettiest to task for being so naughty: "O you naughty, sinful child,"
said she, shaking the poor little waxen image, "you'll go to the lake of
fire and brimstone, you will! and you won't burn up, like other
babies--you'll only jest _sizzle_."
No. 168. _Puzzling Questions._--A little boy, who had just been admitted
to the sabbath-school, was greatly scandalized at finding, on his way
home, an apothecary's shop in full blast at a neighboring corner. "But,
my dear," said mamma, "the druggist is obliged to keep open Sunday, so
that sick people may get medicine." "Why! do people get sick on Sunday?"
"Yes, just as on any other day." "Well, good people don't die on Sunday,
do they?" "Certainly." "Why, how can that be? Does heaven keep open
Sunday?"
No. 169. _Childish Faith._--The Portland Transcript knows of a little
four-year-old, who, being out for a sail, was told by his mother that
they were now on the sea. "On the sea, mamma! then who'll take care of
us?" "God, my dear--He will take care of us." "O yes--I know--_he's one
o' them kind_."
No. 170. The same inquisitive chap could not understand how two boys who
had died before he was born, could be his brothers. Mamma explained,
that being her children they were his brothers, though God had taken
them away to live with Him, before _he_ was born. He was very silent and
thoughtful for a few moments, and then exclaimed, "_O yes, I see--I used
to play with 'em up there in heaven, before I came down here._"
No. 171. _The Boy and the Bobbylink._--A bird lighted on a twig near a
little rugged-and-tough, hardly old enough to make himself understood.
The child took up a stone to throw at him, after the fashion of older
boys. Just then the little songster opened fire: "Bob-o'-link!
bobbylink! won't you, will ye! will ye, won't you! I'll mend your
breeches if you'll find the pieces--bobbylink!--link--link!" The boy's
outstretched arm dropped slowly down to his side. "Why didn't you let
fly, sonny?" said a stranger who had been watching him, and was not a
little curious to see how the struggle would end. The boy shook his
head, with a sorrowful air, but said nothing. "You might have killed him
and carried him home," said the stranger.
"I touldn't," said the little scapegrace.
"Couldn't! and why not, pray?"
"'_Cause he sung so._"
No. 172. _Superfluities._--A youngster, on being taken to the window of
a toy-shop where he saw a _papier mache_ mouse, which, on being wound
up, ran hither and thither, and whisked about like a live mouse, turned
away with ineffable contempt, saying, "O no, mamma, I don't want that!
we've got lots of 'em at home, and don't have to wind 'em up, neither."
No. 173. _Imitation!_--Two children of St. Louis were "playing butcher"
not long ago. He who personated the ox doesn't go to school any more.
One blow with a hatchet from a sturdy five-year-old, nearly split his
head; but he bellowed so frightfully, as to alarm the neighborhood, and
bring relief, just as the hatchet was lifted for another blow.
No. 174. _Soliloquies._--A little six-year-old, while undressing one
night, with his arms over his head tying his night-gown behind, was
overheard saying to himself, "I can beat Tommy Tucker, I can; I can
write my name in writin'; I can tell the time o' day by the clock, I can
spell Nebuchadnezzar, yes--and what's more--I can tie a double
bow-knot." There's a reasonable amount of self-complacency for you! He
was made for an author, and may soon be getting up his autobiography.
No. 175. Another little chap under four, while wading through a
mud-puddle after a heavy shower, came across an angle-worm, and then
fell into a reverie,--"Worms--they are the snakes' babies; little
mices--they are the rats' babies; and the stars--they are the moon's
babies--don't I know"--splash! splash!
No. 176. _Capital definition of Happiness._--A six-year-old school-girl
of Norwich, Connecticut, was asked for a definition of the word "happy."
"O, it is to feel as if you wanted to give all your things to your
little sister."
No. 177. _A fair Inference._--"Mamma," said a promising chap of four
summers, "if the people are all made of dust, ain't the colored folks
made of coal-dust?"
No. 178. _Not so bad._--A well-known, faithful teacher of Bridgeport,
who has charge of an infant class in a Sunday-school there, reports the
following case. Not long ago he was talking with them about the origin
of Christmas:--
"Where was Christ born?" he asked.
"In Bethlehem."
"Where is Bethlehem?"
"In Judea."
"Who first knew that Christ was born?"
"His mother."
No. 179. _As the Spirit moveth._--A little Quaker boy, about six years
old, after sitting, like the rest of the congregation, in dead silence,
all being afraid to speak first, as he thought, got up on the seat, and
folding his arms over his breast, murmured, in a sweet, clear voice,
just loud enough to be distinctly heard on the fore-seat, "I do wish the
Lord would make us all gooder--and gooder--and gooder--till there is no
bad left." Would a longer prayer have been more to the purpose?
No. 180. _A Non Sequitur._--"What have you done with your doll, Amy?"
"Lock it up, papa; doin' to teep it for my itty dirl, when I get big,
jess like mamma." "Ah, but if you shouldn't have any little girl?"
"Never mind, papa--then I'll dive it to my _g'an'chile_."
No. 181. _A Young Protestant._--Not long ago, as a crowd of foreigners
were presented to the Pope, a little American boy, between four and five
years of age, was led up with the rest. The Pope seemed pleased with the
bright-eyed little fellow, and lifted his foot somewhat higher than
usual, that the boy might more conveniently kiss the cross embroidered
upon the toe of his sandal. The boy did not seem to relish the
proposition. Drawing himself up, he looked His Holiness full in the
face, and said, with emphasis, "_No sir, I won't do it!_" The Americans
and English who were present hardly knew which way to look; but the Pope
only smiled good-humoredly, and exclaimed, _Americano_!
The venerable man is said to be "very fond of children, and very
indulgent," having none of his own, and no nephews or nieces, _to speak
of_.
Not long ago, the little son of an architect employed on certain
alterations of St. Peter's Basilica, for a coming festival, was sent by
the father to His Holiness, with drawings and specifications. The Pope
was so much pleased with the plans, and with the sprightliness of the
little messenger, that he led him to a secretary, opened a drawer full
of gold pieces, and told him to help himself. "Holy Father," said the
little scapegrace, "what if you take 'em and give 'em to me--your hand
is bigger than mine." The Pope smiled, and took advantage of the
suggestion. So says our "Parisian correspondent."
No. 182. _Another Word for a Blow._--A little boy and girl were playing
on the road-side among the clover-blossoms and butter-cups. The boy, who
seemed about five, suddenly took offence, and gave his little playmate,
who was still younger, a smart slap on the cheek. She turned away, and
sat down in the long grass, and began to cry. At first, the poor boy
seemed cross and sulky, as if determined to brave it out, but after a
minute or two his beautiful eyes changed color, his mouth trembled, and
he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Katy, darling--I am sorry." The
little rosy face brightened up--the sobs were hushed. "Well, then, if
you are sorry," said she, "_it don't hurt me_."
No. 183. _Just as the Twig is bent, etc. etc._--In order to amuse the
children of a sabbath-school, the teacher began reading to her class
the story of David and Goliah; and coming to the passage where Goliah so
boastingly dared the stripling shepherd-boy to enter the list, a little
chap, newly breeched, up and said to her, "Skip that! skip that! He's
blowin'--I want to know who licked."
No. 184. And only yesterday the following illustration of my text
happened in Fore-Street. Near Gorham's Corner, two little boys had set
themselves in battle-array against a third, somewhat larger. They were
all in petticoats, by the way. At last one of the two stepped a little
in advance of his companion, and bending his arm like a prize-fighter,
sung out, "D'ye see that! jess feel o' that air muscle!" The arm
appeared about the size of a turkey's leg, while he was manipulating the
biceps; and the countenance that of a trained pugilist. As the bigger
boy stepped up to _feel that muscle_, the little fellow let fly, and
sent him head over heels into the gutter, petticoats and all.
No. 185. _The Gates Ajar._--"Our five-year-old," says a neighbor, "stood
looking at the new moon a night or two ago. After a long and thoughtful
pause, he turned to his mother and whispered, 'Mamma, O mamma! Dod has
opened the door a little way.'"
No. 186. _Inferential._--A mother, who had with her a little daughter,
was examining the figure of a horse on a tomb-stone, and wondering what
on earth it was an emblem of. There was nothing to explain it, in the
inscription. "Mamma," said the little one, as they moved away, "I
shouldn't wonder if she died of the _nightmare_."
No. 187. _Capital!_--Just before Washington's birthday, in February
last, a teacher, while notifying the class, and preparing them for the
holiday, said something to the purpose, about the Father of his Country,
and then put the question,--
"Why should we celebrate Washington's birthday any more than _mine_?"
"Because _he never told a lie_!" shouted a young whippersnapper near the
door. But as he didn't vanish, probably he didn't mean it. He had only
read Weems's "Life of Washington" to advantage, and didn't care who knew
it.
No. 188. _Save the Pieces!_--At Winchester, N.H., last winter, a girl of
ten, the daughter of O. L. Howard, coasted over a bank twenty feet high,
into the Ashuelot river. While on the way she was heard saying to
herself, "I'm afraid I shall lose my sled!" But she didn't, and was none
the worse for her ducking, though rather damp.
No. 189. _Sublime._--A cowardly scamp, though fashionably dressed,
having kicked a poor little newsboy, for trying to sell him a paper, the
lad hove to, till another boy accosted the "gentleman," and then
shouted, in the hearing of all the bystanders, "It's no use to try him,
Joe--he can't read."
No. 190. _Constructiveness._--The Belfast Journal renders an account of
a young authoress in that neighborhood, who, at the age of nine, has
written the opening chapter of a sensation story. Two of the characters
are described as twins, one five, and the other six years old.
No. 191. _Boston Notions._--The rector of a parish in Toledo, Ohio, was
lately catechizing the children of his Sunday-school, and asked, "Where
did the wise men come from?" "_From Boston!_" shouted a little wretch,
at the top of his voice. Upon further inquiry, it was found that both
father and mother were of the Bay-State faith.
No. 192. _Timely Preparation._--The Lewiston Journal says that a little
four-year-old, while standing by her teacher on examination-day, after
having spelt cat, dog, ox, cow, and some other monosyllables, suddenly
snatched at the teacher's watch-guard, and whispered, "Please, mayn't I
be 'smissed after my class gets through readin', so 't I can run home
an' get my hair _fizzled_ for the 'mittee?" Whereupon the teacher
'smissed her.
No. 193. _Conscience-money._--A Sunday-school teacher was in the habit
of passing round the hat among the little folks, for missionary
purposes. One day, he was thrown all aback, on finding a counterfeit
shilling among the coppers. Diligent inquiry being had, the little
reprobate, who was only expected to give a penny, but an honest penny,
was found out. "Georgie," said the teacher, with great seriousness,
"didn't you know it was good for nothing?" "To be sure I did," muttered
the boy. "Then why did you put it into the box?" "Well, I didn't 'spose
the little heathens would know the difference, and so I thought it would
be just as good for them."
No. 194. _Combativeness._--"Look here, mister!" sung out a lad of seven,
who had been treed by a ferocious dog; "if you don't call that dog off,
I'll eat up all your peaches!"
No. 195. _Childish Faith._--A little fellow with his first pocket-knife,
had it in use most of the time, for several days, occasionally lending
it to his playmates, "just to whittle with." One evening, after he had
been got ready for the night, and was kneeling by his mother's lap in
his night-gown, he finished off the usual service of "Now I lay me,"
with a "please God give little Jemmy Bailey a knife of his own, so't he
won't have to borrow mine all the time."
No. 196. _A Good Lesson for Mothers._--A bright-eyed, active little
fellow, who in due time made his way up to the desk, used to beset his
mother, in season and out of season, for a coat like his elder brothers,
with pockets behind. To all his importunities, the reply was--"Don't be
in a hurry; you are a little boy,--little boys don't wear such coats.
When you get to be a man, you shall have a coat with pockets behind."
After awhile the boy had to go to the springs for his health; but he
shuddered and shrank away from the cold bath. "Why, Charley, you are a
man--you shouldn't be afraid."
"O yes, I understand," was the reply; "when I want pockets behind, I am
only a little boy; and now that you want me to go in here--_now_, I am a
man."
No. 197. _Funeral Ceremonies._--The San Francisco correspondent of a
Sacramento paper tells the following: "A little friend of ours found
among the gifts of Santa Claus a plump little waxen-doll. She christened
it Maud, and used to take it out for a walk, every pleasant morning. The
other day, on seeing a rag of orange-colored merino pinned to a stick by
the nursery-door, I peeped in at the children, but was immediately
served with notice to quit, by Bobby, who seemed to be the doctor, or a
health committee-man; for 'Maud was tooken dreadful bad with the
small-pox, and the yeller flag was hung out--didn't I see it?' Soon
after this, I heard a piteous wailing, with a sad attempt, and a sadder
failure, to sing the sabbath-school hymn, 'Sister thou wast Mild and
Lovely,' after which there was a little, crooked, undulating procession,
Bobby carrying the dog and Floy the cat, wrapped in shawls, and as they
slowly made their way up the hill, into the garden, I understood, from
the dismal moaning and sobbing, and from the melancholy rags they bore,
that the undertakers were 'performing' a funeral, poor Maud having died
of the terrible visitation. I hurried up to the grave, in what I dare
say passed for unseemly haste, but just in time to save the poor little
wax baby from being buried alive, or, at least, in all her bewitching
helplessness. Upon remonstrating, 'We'd ony sowed her up in a bag,'
murmured Floy, 'and we would have undigged her.'"
No. 198. _Glimpses of the sabbath-school._--"Gerty, my dear, you were a
very good little girl to-day," said the teacher. "Yes'm--I couldn't help
bein good; I got a tiff neck," said Gerty, with perfect seriousness.