aged grandfather, who comes with feeble step to embrace and welcome
her. "The Lord bless you, my child, and blessed be his name for
restoring you to me in my old age; come with me, and let us give
thanks to our heavenly Father, for all his blessings. It is true he
has seen best to remove those we love most from us; but it is all
right, my child, all right;" and he led her into the cottage, where
the evening meal was spread for them by the kind old housekeeper; but
it was a sad meal for Grace, and she soon hastened to her chamber to
weep and meditate on the change which had taken place in her absence,
and to think of what she ought to do.
It was the spring of the year--and when Grace arose from her bed the
next morning, and looked forth from the window of her little room, and
saw all Nature smiling with beauty, she felt refreshed; and as she gazed
on the beautiful flowers that grew beneath her window, and listened to
the songs of the birds, and the gentle murmurs of the little stream
which watered the garden, she felt that she had much to be thankful for,
and that good spirits were near to make her happy; and when she met her
old grandfather in the library, where it was the custom to assemble the
family for morning prayers, her eyes expressed the peace and devotion
which she felt; and while they partook of the repast prepared for them,
in the well-remembered breakfast-room, they talked over the trying
events of the past with humble resignation. Grace was very thankful to
find that she could, in various ways, make herself useful to her only
relation; and in arranging the occupation of her time, the garden was to
be under her care--to employ and amuse her as one of her principal
things; and in a short time, she had made so many improvements, that her
grandfather said it was quite a little paradise.
The rivulet, which flowed through the garden, had many flowers growing
on its borders; and here Grace delighted to ramble, for it reminded her
of other and happy days, when she had been used to gather the flowers,
with her little sisters, to make nosegays for her parents.
One day, when she was walking beneath the trees of the garden, she saw a
beautiful bird building its nest on one of the branches. This was a new
source of delight to her; and when the nest was finished, and a little
brood of beautiful birds were heard chirping in the trees, Grace thought
there was but one thing more she desired, and that was a pleasant seat
for her grandfather, where he might sit in the heat of the day, and
enjoy his nap, or read his favourite book undisturbed; so she built him
a bower, and planted the choicest flowers about it, and watered them
morning and evening, that they might grow and flourish; and while she
did so, she prayed that _good affections_ might grow in her own heart,
and expand like these flowers; and they did so, for, as she grew in
years, she grew in wisdom and love.
* * * * *
Several years passed in this peaceful retirement and the care of her
good grandfather,--who was now quite old, and whose white locks and
feeble step reminded her that _he_ would be called to join those who had
gone before him. But for this she was prepared; for he had often spoken
to her of death--he had made this subject familiar to her, and he had
tried as much as possible to elevate her mind above the grave, that she
might think of her departed friends as near to her, and still living in
a more perfect state; and she knew it would be far better for him to go
and live with his heavenly Father, than to remain in this world, even
though they might continue to be very happy together; and when his last
hour on earth _did_ come, it was so full of peace and holy confidence in
the Saviour of man, that she was assisted to feel and say, "Father, thy
will be done;" and as she knelt by his bed-side to receive his blessing,
she felt conscious that ministering angels were present, and gently
removing his spirit from earth to heaven.
[Illustration]
SHELLS.
"Well, Henry, where have you been? I have not seen you this morning."
"I have been with papa, and he has given me this little box full of
shells. Look, mamma, how very pretty they are. Papa says they are found
in the sea, and that little fish live in them! Can fish live in these
very small ones, mamma?"
"Yes, my dear, a fish has lived in each of these little shells. I have
sometimes picked them up on the beach with the fish in them; but they
are generally washed on shore when the sea is rough, and the fish dies
and falls out of the shell before it is picked up; as fish, you know,
cannot live out of the water. Some day I will show you a very beautiful
shell, which I have in my cabinet; it is the shell of the paper
nautilus, which is a very curious little fish. I have heard that it was
this fish which first gave men the idea of building ships to sail on the
sea. These fish have two arms, or horns, which they put out of their
shells, and stretch a kind of skin across them, which makes a little
sail, just like the sail of a ship. They then stretch two more arms out
of the shell, which they use as oars or paddles; and when the sea is
calm they amuse themselves by sailing about on the water, and look very
pretty; but if a storm comes on, they draw in their horns and their
little sails, and sink to the bottom."
"Have you ever seen them sailing about, mamma?"
"No, Henry, I have not, because I have not been much on the sea; but
they are often seen by sailors, who, you know, are almost always at sea.
There are a great many curious fish in the sea, some very large indeed,
and others very small; about many of which I shall be happy to tell you
more at some future time."
[Illustration]
EMULATION.
A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HENRY AND HIS FATHER.
"What is the matter, Henry?" asked Mr. Carey of his son, who looked more
sober than usual, one day, after his return from school.
"I don't feel happy," Henry replied, looking up into his father's face
with an effort to smile. "But I suppose it is my own fault, although I
can't help it."
"Has anything very particular happened?"
"No, sir. Nothing very particular. Only I've been next to head in my
class for a week."
"Next to head! Why, I thought you had been at the head of your class for
the last three or four months."
"So I have been until within a week. But, since then, do all I can,
Herbert Wellmore keeps his place above me."
"And this is the reason of your unhappiness?"
"Yes, sir."
"But do you think it is a just cause of unhappiness?"
"I always feel bad if I am not first in everything, father."
"Do you think it right to feel so, Henry?"
"Is it not right, father, for me to excel others in every way?"
"Yes, if it is in your power to do so; for then you can be more useful
than any one else. But, it seems that Herbert Wellmore can excel
you--and I suppose he does so fairly."
"Oh, yes. It is fair enough--and that is just what I don't like. It
shows that he can do better than I can."
"Then he will have it in his power to be more useful to his fellow-men
than you. And should not this make you glad instead of discontented?"
"I didn't think anything about that, father."
"So I supposed--if you had so thought, you would, probably, never have
been willing to have seen your school-fellow. But why does this
circumstance make you unhappy?"
"I don't like any one to get ahead of me."
"Why?"
Henry tried to determine in his own mind the reason, but was unable to
do so. Mr. Carey saw this, and added:
"Don't you think that selfishness has something to do with it?
Wounded self-love, I have before told you, is a frequent cause of
our unhappiness. Now, think again, and try if you cannot determine
the reason why you wished to excel all others in your class."
"That I might be thought to be the smartest boy in it, I suppose."
"Would you not call that a mere selfish feeling?"
"I suppose so. And yet ought I not to try and keep ahead?"
"Certainly, as I have said before. But you should not feel the slightest
pain if another boy excels you fairly. Suppose every boy were to be
disturbed in mind, as you have been, because other boys were in
advance;--don't you see that every boy in a class, but one, would be
unhappy? And would that be right? None of us, my son, have minds alike.
This, you know, I have before explained to you, and also the reason why
it is so. Now, do you remember that reason?"
"It is because in society there are various uses, all requiring a
different order of talent. Is not that the reason?"
"Yes, my son; that is the reason, and I am glad you have remembered so
correctly what I told you a few days ago. From this you may see that
there is always something that one person will be able to do better than
another; and, of course, one kind of knowledge that he will be able to
acquire more easily than another. Have you not, yourself, noticed, that
while one boy excels in penmanship, another, who cannot learn to write
even a fair hand, will far outstrip this one in arithmetic?--and a
third go ahead of the other two in acquiring a correct geographical
knowledge?--A fourth delights most in the study of navigation and
surveying, while a dull boy, in almost everything else, can acquire a
knowledge of chemical laws more rapidly than any in his class. You have,
of course, observed all this?"
"Oh, yes, frequently. There is Thomas Wiley, for instance, who, in
spelling, reading, and writing, is always behind every one else; and yet
no one can answer more questions in geography, or project so beautiful a
map, as he can. Charles Lee has no trouble at all with the hardest
question in algebra; but is deficient in grammar, and hates his Latin
and Greek more than any punishment or reprimand the teacher can give.
And, now I think of it, I don't know any two boys in school who are
alike in regard to learning their lessons."
"Do you not think that it would be very foolish in Thomas Wiley to make
himself unhappy because he could not write so pretty a hand as you do?
Or for Charles Lee to forget all his skill at solving algebraic
problems, in making himself miserable because he was behind another boy
in Latin and Greek, whose mind was peculiarly fitted for the acquirement
of language, while his was not?"
"I certainly think it would, father."
"Then bring this home to yourself. Is there no one thing in which you
can excel Herbert Wellmore?"
"Yes, sir. I can solve a problem in half the time it takes him to do it
in. But, then, he is always correct--and so gets as much as I do from
the teacher, who does not seem to take into account my superior
quickness."
"In this, I need hardly point out to you, my son, the selfish principle
that influences you. Instead of feeling grateful to your heavenly Father
for having given you the ability to work out a difficult problem with
half the labour it costs another, you are unhappy because this superior
ability is not praised, and you, in consequence, held up to view as
deserving of more commendation than Herbert; when, in fact, he is the
one who should be praised for his steady perseverance in overcoming
difficulties that are as nothing to you."
"I believe I have permitted myself to indulge in wrong feelings," Henry
said, after remaining silent for a few moments. "But I think you have
told me that emulation is not to be condemned."
"It certainly is not, my son. I would have you, as now, emulous of
superior acquirements; but, at the same time, aware, that in this
emulation there would be no jealousy or unkind feelings. Be first
in everything, if possible,--and yet willing to see others excel
you,--remembering, that in so excelling they will have the power to be
more useful to mankind; for the true power that resides in knowledge
is the power of doing good."
[Illustration]
A NURSE'S SONG.
The voice of children is heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill;
When my heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
"Now, come home, my children, the sun is down,
And the dews of night fall fast;
Come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the east."
No, no, let us play, for it is yet day--
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky, the little birds fly,
And the hills are all covered with sheep.
"Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And _then_ go home to rest."
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed for joy.
THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY.
A shepherd, who was of an unfortunately discontented turn of mind,--one
who was much fonder of reclining lazily on a sunny bank, than of viewing
his own lot on its sunny side--was one day moodily watching his flock,
wishing himself all the while its owner instead of guardian; in other
words, a happier man. His faithful dog lay beside him, and every now and
then licked the hand of his master, as it hung listlessly by his side,
and then looked up into his face, as if to read his thoughts. But the
shepherd was in no humour to stroke the shaggy hide of his friend,
Keeper--his envious musings having been diverted to the sleek coat of
his master's hunter, which had just bounded, with its wealthy rider,
over an adjacent hedge. The sullen tender of flocks was all at once
roused from his reverie by the small, silvery voice of a sprightly
little fairy.
"What ails thee, my good man?" said she, tapping his shoulder with her
wand; "you seem mighty melancholy. Have you met with any disaster?--lost
anything?--perhaps your wife!"
"No such luck."
"Or some of your sheep?"
"What should I care--they're my master's."
"Your purse, then?"
"Purse!" growled the shepherd, "no great loss, if I had, for it's always
empty."
[Illustration]
"Ah! I think I can guess what's the matter," said the fairy: "you are
wishing to be rich, and discontented because you are poor. But, prithee,
now listen to me. Once upon a time, when we fairies used to mix much
more with mankind than we do at present, we learnt many of their
pernicious customs; and seeing the high store they set by money, and the
uses to which they applied it, we (in an evil hour) resolved to have
money of our own. Nature had ready coined it to our hands, in the gold
and silver seeds of flowers, and these we stored up, and made our
circulating medium. Then came amongst us, envy, avarice, dishonesty.
Instead of being, as heretofore, the protectors of the beautiful
flowers, we became their ravagers; instead of the most benevolent and
happy little creatures in the world, we became a discontented,
malevolent, and restless race. We began to dislike our native dells and
dingles, and to haunt, more than ever, the habitations of man. We knew
well enough, however, that the cause of all our misery had been our
foolish imitation of their practices; and with a view to revenge, many a
sorry trick and mischievous prank did we delight to play them--as,
doubtless, you may have often heard. This, however, availed us nothing;
and, at last, growing tired of such profitless vengeance, we made up our
minds to return entirely to our shady recesses, and, what was better, to
our ancient habits. Truly, it cost some of us not a little to part with
our stores of golden treasure; but at last we all agreed to throw away
our money; and having then no further use for our purses, we hung them
up, as memorials of our folly, upon the most ugly and worthless weeds
we could discover, where you may even now behold them."
The fairy, as she spoke, pointed out to the shepherd some mean,
ragged-looking plants which grew beside him; and, sure enough, there he
saw suspended, the little triangular pods or purses, of which she had
been speaking.
They proved more useful to him than they had done to their former
possessors; for the common weed to which they were attached, could never
in future, cross his path, without reminding him of the lesson of his
fairy monitress; taught by which, he soon found that, in the enjoyment
of a contented mind, a light purse need not always make a heavy heart.
NOTE.--Shepherd's purse, or wedge-shaped treacle-mustard, one
of our commonest road-side weeds, varying greatly in the size
and form of its leaves. "It flowers from spring to the end of
autumn, and ripens copiously its triangular pole or pouches,
whence its name,--distinguished from all other British plants.
The root is tapering, and exhales a peculiar scent when pulled
out of the ground. Small birds are fond of the seeds and young
flowers."--[_Sowerby's English Botany._
[Illustration]
SIMPLE PLEASURES.
Far, far down in the pass of the Clara mountains I dwelt with my sister
Joanna. We lived with an old aunt, who took us home after our father's
death. She was not in good health, and so could not do much for us. We
were generally left to an old woman, who had the charge of us; but she
was a little severe, and a little sharp, and very deaf; so that we did
not have many pleasant days with her. Nevertheless, we tried to amuse
ourselves as well as we could. We had tamed a little rat, so that when
we laid a bit of sugar on the stone by the stove, he would come out and
eat it, while we stood in the other corner of the room. It is true that
we dared scarcely breathe, but yet we were a little flattered by his
confidence in us.
Bits of sugar were, however, in these times, rare treasures for us; and
not more than two pieces a week, could we have for the rat and for our
own eating. Sundays were great holidays for us, for then we had Cologne
water on the corners of our handkerchiefs, butter to our potatoes at
breakfast, and roast meat at dinner.
It was also among our pleasures that we could, twice in the week, walk
an hour in the court-yard. But, as people are seldom content with what
they have, we were not satisfied with our amusements; and when summer
arrived, and all the great people came out to their estates in the
country, we took great pleasure in the idea of making a country
residence for ourselves. We had sometimes followed the old woman to the
cellar, and we had observed a place in the corner, on which the light
struck from a certain air-hole, open towards the garden. There we
planted a pea, one fine morning towards the end of May. For three weeks
we went every day, and sought out the place, removing the earth a little
about it, to see whether the pea had not begun to sprout.
Our delight was great, when, on the twenty-fourth day, after the
planting, we saw a little swelling up of the pea, beautifully green and
very shy, just peeping up with an expanded leaf.
We danced round it and sang for joy. Near this plantation we then placed
a little pasteboard house, and before it a small bench, on which we put
some paper gentlemen and ladies. And no one can have a livelier
enjoyment in his country residence than we had in ours.
We lodged in a dark and very small room. But from my bed I could see a
little bit of sky in the morning, and the chimney of our neighbour's
house. But when the smoke rose from the chimney, and was coloured red
and yellow by the rising sun, under the dome of the blue sky, then I
thought the world up there in the air must be very beautiful, and I
longed to go thither.
I conceived a great desire to fly, and confided this wish to Joanna. We
made ourselves paper wings, and as these could not lift us up, we tried
whether they would not at least sustain us, if we let ourselves go,
without holding on to anything, from the stove, chest of drawers, or
whatever we had climbed up upon.
But besides that, we got many bruises in these attempts, we made such a
noise by falling to the floor, that it brought in the old woman, who
gave a hearty scolding to the clumsy angels. Meanwhile, we thought of
still another means of sustaining ourselves as we hovered over the
earth. We selected suitable sticks, which we used as stilts, and on
these we went round about the court yard, imagining all the time that we
were flying.
Would that we had been content with this! But the desire to know more of
the world without, threw us into misfortune. The house which we lived in
was situated within a court-yard, and was separated from the street by a
high wooden fence. A part of the enclosure was a garden, well fenced in
and belonged to a notary. He was a severe man, and we were much afraid
of him.
The temptation to evil came this time in the shape of a little pig. We
saw, one day, when we were passing our play hour in the court-yard, a
fortunate pig, who was enjoying himself in the most riotous manner in
this garden. Spinach, tulips, strawberries, and parsley, all were thrown
around him, as he dug with his snout in the earth.
Our anger at this was very great, and not less our wonder how the pig
could have got into the garden, as the gate was shut and the fence was
so firm. We looked about carefully, and at last discovered a hole, which
had been nearly covered by a few old boards placed against it, but which
the little pig had instinctively found out, and through which he had
forced his way.
We thought it of the greatest importance to get the pig immediately out
of the pleasure garden, and we could see no other means of doing so than
to creep through, in at the same hole by which he had made his way; and
now we hunted with great zeal our poor guide, and then put in order, as
well as we could, what he had scattered about.
We closed the hole in the fence with a board, but could not resist the
desire to let it serve us, now and then, as an entrance to this
paradise. As we did not mean to hurt, or even meddle with anything in
the garden, we thought it would not be wrong to take a breath of fresh
air now and then. Every Sunday, in particular, we crept in by the pig's
hole, which we always closed carefully after us. All around, within the
garden fence, there was a hedge of syringa bushes, which hindered us
from being seen from without.
However, it was very wrong in us to go into another person's garden
without leave; and we soon found that every wrong thing brings its
punishment with it sooner or later.
There was a little summer house in the garden, near that part of the
fence which separated it from the street. There were some bushes so near
that Joanna and I took the bold resolution to climb up by them, so as to
get on the roof of the summer house, and there to look over the fence
into the street. Thought, said, done.
Proud, triumphant, and glad, we found ourselves, after a quarter of an
hour's labour, on the much-promised roof, and richly were we repaid for
our trouble. We had a full view of the street. We saw, now and then, an
old woman with a milk-cart, sometimes a gentleman in a chaise, and when
we were in great luck, a lady with a parasol; and, still better, we had
even a distinct perspective of King street, and had the indescribable
delight of seeing a crowd of walkers and idlers, on horseback and in
carriages, passing by. The whole world seemed to be moving there. After
we had once seen this, we could not live without seeing it again.
One day,--I remember it as if it were yesterday,--one day we had taken
our high post, and were looking curiously upon the world in King street.
All at once we saw a stately rider on horseback, and directly after him
a pair of white horses, drawing a splendid carriage. That must be the
queen!--perhaps the king himself! Out of our senses with delight, we
began to clap our hands and hurra loudly. At the same moment we heard
the notary coughing in the garden. We were dreadfully frightened. We
wanted to get down quickly from the roof, and hide ourselves among the
trees; but, in our alarm, we could not find the right places for our
hands and feet. Joanna rolled like a ball over the notary's strawberry
bed, and I remained hanging by the chin to a great nail in the plank,
and screaming as if out of my senses. See! here is the scar by the nail,
it can be seen even now.----
These youthful adventures were related to amuse two little girls, who
were suffering under a disappointment, having been prevented from going
out to see an exhibition of fire-works. When their governess had reached
this point in her story, a more than delicate supper was announced, and
the children ran off to enjoy it, without stopping to inquire farther
about the scar on the good lady's chin.
(From the President's Daughters by F. Bremer.)
[Illustration]
THE ROBIN'S "GOOD BYE" TO LITTLE ARAMINTA.
ROBIN.
Good bye, good bye! I'm going away!
I'll come again next spring, clear!
I scarce can find one leafy spray,
On which to plume my wing, dear.
ARAMINTA.
Dear Robin, are you going south,
To pass the coming season?
This chill air don't agree with you--
You're ill?--Is that the reason?
Your doctor thinks you cannot stay
With safety in this climate?
Advises you to travel? hey?
(That word--how shall I rhyme it?)
ROBIN.
I have no doctor. I'm as well
As you are, Araminta;
But I've relations at the south,
With whom I pass the winter.