schoolmates without them, the anxious father, accompanied by some kind
neighbours, had spent the night in search of them; but had been unable
to trace them, and returned wearied and alone. Another party had
immediately formed, and the bereaved father had insisted on again
accompanying them. Carlo, Bessie's little favourite, had followed, and
it was the instinct of the faithful animal that led the father to his
children. And now they were safe in their own loved home; and many a
fervent prayer of thanksgiving for the recovery of the lost ones
ascended that night to heaven, from the humble dwelling of Pastor Lee.
THE STARS.--ORION.
"O Father," said Rollo, looking up; "look at the sky; see how full of
stars it is."
The sky was indeed very full of stars. The galaxy, or the milky way, as
it is sometimes called, was very bright. Rollo looked at the stars a
moment, and then he got into the sleigh. His father advised him to take
a seat with him, behind; but Rollo said he wanted to sit with Jonas, and
see the pond, when they came to it.
"I am afraid you will be cold," said his father.
"No, sir," said Rollo; "I don't think it is cold."
So Rollo took his place, by the side of Jonas, on the front seat, and
they rode along. After going at a brisk pace for a few miles, they came
to the top of a hill, where the pond first appeared in sight. It looked
like a great level field covered with snow. They could see a dark line
winding along in a gently-serpentine direction across the surface of it.
Jonas said that this was the road they were to take in crossing the
pond.
The horse went rapidly down the hill, and before long they were upon the
pond. There was not much wind, but a light breeze blew keenly towards
Rollo's face, and made his nose and cheeks cold. So he said he meant to
turn round towards his father.
His father proposed to him to come and sit upon the back seat; but he
said he should be warm upon the front seat, if he only turned round. So
he put his feet over the seat, and enveloped them in the buffalo skins
which were down in front of the back seat, and the buffalo skin which
had been before him, he threw over his shoulders, so that now he had a
very good place indeed. He could see, all around him, the shores of the
pond, with the lights in the farm houses on the land, and all the
constellations which were spread out before him in that quarter of the
heavens at which he was looking.
"O father," said Rollo, "I see three stars all in a row. I wish I knew
the names of them. Could you look round and see, father?"
"Why, not very well," said his father. "I cannot look round, I am so
muffled up."
Rollo, being seated on the front seat, with his back to the horse, of
course was looking at that part of the sky which was behind the sleigh,
so that his father could not see the constellation in that quarter of
the heavens.
"Let me see," said his father; "we must be going nearly west, so that
that part of the sky is the eastern part. Orion must be rising about
this time. Perhaps the stars which you see are the stars in the belt of
Orion."
"In the belt of Orion?" repeated Rollo.
"Yes," said his father. "The most beautiful constellation in the sky is
Orion; and early in the winter it rises in the evening. Orion was a
hunter, and he has a belt: and in his belt are three beautiful stars,
all in a row."
"Well, father," said Rollo, "tell me some other stars that ought to be
near, if it is really the belt of Orion that I see, and then I will tell
you if they are there."
"Very well," said his father. "If they are the three stars in the belt
of Orion, they lie in a line one above the other, not one by the side of
the other. I mean by that, that, if there was a line drawn through them,
and continued each way, it would be a line running up and down in the
sky, not a line extending from one side to the other."
"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "this row of stars is in a line up and down."
"And off on each side of the little row of stars are two other bright
stars, on each side."
"How far off, sir?" said Rollo.
"About twice as far, I should think, as the little row of stars."
"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "I see one of them. Yes, I see them both. One is
on one side, and the other is on the other side."
"Yes: then I have no doubt it is Orion that you see. One of the stars
that you last found is in his foot, and the other is in his shoulder."
"I wish I could see his shape," said Rollo, "all drawn out in the sky."
"It would be very convenient, I have no doubt," replied his father.
"Pretty near the lowest of the three stars in the row, there is a faint
cluster of stars, towards the south."
"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "I see them."
"They are in Orion's sword," said his father.
"I see them," said Rollo.
"Now, look at all the stars in the constellation again, and notice
how they lie in respect to each other, so that you will know the
constellation when you see it again."
[Illustration]
THE APPLE.
Little Anna bent over a quiet brook, and smiled with pleasure at what
she saw there. A beautiful living picture was reflected from the clear
water. There, bright clouds seemed to sail slowly along, through the
clear blue sky, and the leaves of the trees seemed to flutter in the
soft summer air. In the midst of these pleasant appearances stood the
image of a beautiful little girl, with laughing blue eyes and brown
curled hair, which hung down over her white frock, as she stooped
forward, as if to look back upon Anna, with a good-natured smile.
While Anna was looking and wondering at the beauty of this picture, an
apple fell with a rush into the water, and spattered her face with small
water-drops.
"What is that?" said she, wiping her eye-lashes with her little hand.
"Oh, it is an apple, covered with bright red cheeks. It is swimming off
down the brook, but I will see whether I cannot stop it." She broke off
a blue iris, with a long stem, and after trying many times, she at
length drew the apple to the shore, and taking it up with a smile, she
turned it round and round, to look at its red streaks.
"Little apple!" said she, with a soft voice, "little red striped apple.
I should never have dared to break you from the tree, because the tree
does not belong to my father, but to good neighbour Ackerman; but a kind
wind has blown you down, into the brook, and now that I have drawn you
out with the flag blossom, would it not be best for me to try whether
you are as good as you are pretty?"
She sat down on the grass, under the tree, and after she had wiped the
apple, she ate it with a very good relish.
Before she had finished, another apple fell directly into her lap. She
wondered very much at this last wind-fall, but was much pleased, and
thought it still more beautiful than the first. Soon after, a twig fell
into her lap, with three apples upon it. Much astonished, she looked up
to the tree, and among the thick boughs she saw little Fritz looking
down upon her with roguish eyes. He was a bright boy, but he loved
mischief better than work or study. He had gone to the garden of
neighbour Ackerman a little before Anna, not to look into the brook, but
to climb the tree where the sweet red apples grew. He saw Anna looking
into the brook, and mischievously threw an apple to disturb the water.
He was very much amused to observe Anna's surprise, and her innocent
belief that the wind had broken off the apple, although it was a calm
summer day, and no air was stirring.
When Anna saw Fritz in the tree, she understood what made the apples
fall. She grew almost as red as the apples, and cast down her eyes.
Fritz longed to talk with her, but did not know how to begin. At length
he said,--
"Was it good, Anna?"
Then he slid down the smooth stem of the tree and stood close beside
her, but he did not know how to begin a conversation there, any better
than he did in the tree.
Suddenly, farmer Ackerman appeared from behind a clump of bushes, and
looked earnestly at them. He was an old man, and was much loved and
respected by all his neighbours.
Anna and Fritz coloured and looked frightened. They would have slipped
away, but he called to them,--
"What disturbs you so, my little ones? What must I understand from those
eyes, which turn away from mine, the sudden colour of your cheeks, and
these unquiet doubtful looks? Did you come under my apple tree to enjoy
the cool shade, or were you enticed by the apples?
"I am not surprised to see Fritz here, but you, Anna, whom I have always
considered so innocent, how could you encourage this little rogue to
rob my tree, and receive the apples after he had stole them?"
Anna made no answer, but the tears rolled down her cheeks, and her bosom
swelled with grief. Fritz could not bear the sight of her distress.
"She has done nothing wrong," said he; "I am the only one to blame."
He then told the farmer how it had all happened, and confessed his
dishonest intentions in climbing the tree. The farmer kindly said, "A
fault confessed is half amended." He then wiped little Anna's eyes, with
the corner of her apron, and gave her the handsomest apple he could find
on his tree. Anna thanked him, with a sobbing voice and said, "If I see
another apple in the brook, or in the road, I will not touch it till I
know whose it is, and how it came there!"
[Illustration]
THE NEW SINGING SCHOOL.
Do re mi fa sol la si do,
Do si la sol fa mi re do.
Come, begin and follow me,
'Tis down upon the board, you see;
Young ladies turn your heads this way,
Look on the board, the board, I say!
PUPILS.
Do mi re fa sol si la do,--
MASTER.
Stop! now is that the way you'd go?
Where are your eyes and ears to-night?
Cannot you sing two notes aright?
A SWALLOW ON THE EAVES.
What is the matter down below?
What dreadful clatter, do you know?
SWALLOW'S MATE.
It is a singing school, my dear,
There's do re mi, pray don't you hear?
SWALLOW.
Is that the way folks learn to sing?
I ne'er imagined such a thing.
Ah me! why what a time they make!
They really make my ear-drums ache;
Why, what a dreadful noise they keep--
They waked me from a nice sound sleep.
MASTER.
Beat! beat your time, and mind the board,
Was such a discord ever heard?
Put up your chestnuts, boys, and beat,--
You did not come to school to eat.
Come, if you can't sing do re mi,
Follow as I sing one, two, three.
BOYS.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,--
He! he! he!--eight, nine, ten, 'leven.
MASTER.
Boys! mind your manners, or go home,
And learn them ere again you come.
PUPILS.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
MASTER.
Why, really, now you've sung it straight;
Now answer, if you can, and tell,
What is the first note in the scale?
FIRST BOY.
Don't know,--b'lieve 'tis h or i.
MASTER.
Shame! I should think the seats would cry,
"Shame on you!"
FIRST BOY.
Well, I know that I
Was, am, and will be, number one;
And 'tis by that the scale's begun.
MASTER.
And now the third?
SECOND BOY.
The third is mi.
FIRST BOY.
It is not me then,--He! he! he!--
'Tis you, not me, I'm third to none,
I'll be always number one.
MASTER.
Take care, boy, how you jest with me;
Again, what note is number three?
Now do the best that you can do.
FIRST BOY.
I rather think 'tis w.
MASTER.
Sirrah! you know, and know full well,
There's no such letter in the scale.
The third note is the letter e,
And, mind, the syllable is mi.
FIRST BOY.
_Me_, is it? Oh, if that be true,
Then, I am sure 'tis double _you_.
PUPILS.
Ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! he! he!
MASTER.
Oh, Apollo, pity me!--
Young Miss, I've not yet heard you sing,
Have you a cold, or anything?
"Don't know?" Oh, you feel bashful; boys!
Look on your notes, and stop that noise.
Do mi sol do, do sol mi do.
PUPILS.
Do mi sol do, do sol mi do.
MASTER.
Out of tune is the way we go;
I'll sing, and in Apollo's name,
Now try if you can do the same.
SWALLOW.
Oh, were it day, and I on wing,
I would teach them how to sing;
But this is shocking; even twitter,
Twit, twit, twit, were surely better.
CHORUS OF YOUNG SWALLOWS.
Twitter! twitter! twit! twit! twit!
Boys and girls have little wit.
SWALLOW.
Do hear our young ones, how they sing!
They find it quite an easy thing.
They ne'er beat down, up, hither, thither,
And never saw the blackboard, neither.
MASTER.
And now you have sung one, two, three,
Perhaps you'll say your a b c;
Come, say it,--c d e f g,--
BOYS.
H i j k l m n.--
SWALLOWS.
Oh, defend us! what a din?
How hard they try to learn to sing
'Tis really an amusing thing.
MASTER.
Enough! enough! you may sing now
"Old Hundred" once, then you may go.
CHORUS OF SWALLOWS.
That's pretty well, but might be better;
Not so good as twitter! twitter!
Twitter! twitter! twit! twit! twit!
Boys and girls have little wit.
[Illustration]
THE BALLOON.
"Oh! brother, what is that?" exclaimed little Mary to her brother James.
"What do you mean, sister?"
"Why, that thing, away up in the sky,--what is it?" And Mary pulled her
brother by the arm as she looked up at the strange-looking object.
"Oh, that thing so far up in the sky; well, it is an odd looking
creature. I wonder if it is a bird; let us ask John the gardener;
perhaps _he_ knows."
"John! John!" cried both children at once, "what is that wonderful-looking
object, up there?"
John looked up very wise, shook his head, and looked again,--"Oh! it is
a _balloon_."
"Well, pray, sir, will you tell us what a balloon is made of," said
James, "and how it enables one to go up into the air so great a
distance?"
"The balloon is made of oiled silk, or of silk prepared with a solution
of India-rubber, made perfectly air tight, and is filled with air,
lighter than the common air we breathe."
"But where can this air be obtained?" said James.
"There are many ways of obtaining it, but the easiest is to go to the
gaslight company, and purchase as many gallons as may be wanted to make
the balloon rise."
"This is, indeed, curious," said Mary; "I never thought air was bought
and sold."
"What is the _use_ of a balloon?" asked James, who was very fond of
asking questions about everything.
"I don't know that it is of _any_ use, at present," replied John, "but
it may possibly be made of use at some future time."
"I should like to go up in it," said James; "it must be so beautiful to
sail through the air, and look down on the cities and villages, and
green fields, and woods."
"Oh, dear!" cried Mary; "_I_ should not like to go;--only think, we
might fall out."
"Well, sister, I don't think there is much chance of our ever trying it,
though I should not be afraid. But let us go and inquire further about
the matter, for it is certainly a very wonderful affair. I dare say
father will be able to tell us a great deal more than John can, and we
may meet with some one who has been above the clouds in one of these
ærial cars or baskets."
CURIOUS LITTLE PAINTERS.
The next afternoon, when Catherine found her mother at leisure, she came
and stood close by her, and looked in her face for some time.
"What are you looking at me for, so steadily?" said Mrs. Nelson.
"I am trying to see the pictures in your eyes, mother; and don't you
remember, that you said you would tell me more about these curious
little painters, as you call them? Is it only that small dark spot in
the middle of your eye that sees?"
"That little place, my dear, is a sort of window, which lets in the
light that makes the picture upon the back part of the eye. It is called
the _pupil_, and it is what is meant by 'the apple,' which you recollect
being puzzled with in the Psalm that you read for your Sunday lesson. Do
you remember it?" After a while, Catherine said, "Oh, yes;" and repeated
this verse, "Keep me under the apple of thine eye, hide me under the
shadow of thy wings."
"By this little round window the light enters the eye, and passes
through to the back part of it, and represents there, upon what is
called the retina, everything that we see. So you perceive that if
anything happens to the pupil of the eye, no light can enter it, and we
should see nothing of all this beautiful and glorious world around us;
we should be in perpetual darkness."--"And now, mother, I understand the
Psalm; for it is necessary that these two little windows should be kept
very safe, as safe as we pray that God would keep us. But is that a
little hole in the eye, mother?"
"No, my dear, this precious part of the eye has a covering over it like
the chrystal of a watch; this is properly called the _cornea_, a Latin
word that means _like horn_, because it resembles thin horn that the
light can shine through,--as you may ascertain by asking the cook to
show you a fish's eye, and looking at this part."
"And is the eye all hollow, mother? or what is between the pupil and the
place on the back part of the eye where the picture is painted, that you
called--I forget what you called it, mother?"
"The _retina_, my dear, from a Latin word that means anything by which
another thing is _held_ or _retained_, as this part of the eye holds or
retains the picture of things. You ask me what is between the pupil and
the retina. There are in the eye three different substances, called
humours, all transparent. A transparent substance means anything that
can be seen through. The first one, directly back of the pupil, is
called the _acqueous_, from a Latin word, that means _watery_: it is a
thin liquid, like water. The second, behind that, is called the
_crystalline_ humour, from its clearness and brightness. It is formed
like the glasses they use in telescopes, and is fastened at the edge by
the delicate transparent substance that covers it, called a _membrane_.
The one beyond this, and next the retina, is called the _vitreous_
humour, from its resemblance to glass. All these substances assist in
forming the images of objects on the back of the eye; but you are not
old enough to understand how, at present, my child."
"Then, mother," said Catherine, "our eyes are as curious as grandfather's
telescope, or as the camera obscura, that he gave us to see pictures
with."
"They are far more curious my dear; and it is by imitating the eye that
they can make them so well. I remember, Catherine, when your grandfather
sent that camera obscura to you the other day, and your father showed
you the pictures in it, that you and Lucy and James capered about the
room with joy, saying, 'Oh, how good grandfather is to give us such a
beautiful thing!'--and now, my dear, when you go into a garden and dance
with joy at the sight of the flowers; when you look up with so much
wonder and delight at the beautiful moon sailing through the clouds, and
at the bright twinkling stars; when, after having been even one day
away from your father and mother, you feel so happy at looking in our
faces, and reading in them our love for you,--of whose goodness ought
you to think? Who has given you eyes to see all these delightful things?
Whom should you then love? Of whom then should you speak, and say, 'Oh,
how good He is?'"
Catherine felt and understood what her mother said, and answered her,
that it was God.
"I have yet much more, my dear," said her mother, "to tell you about the
eyes, that is very wonderful. This beautiful little round window grows
larger and smaller as you want more or less light. When there is a great
light, it contracts so as to take in but little; and when the light is
faint, it becomes nearly twice as large, so as to take in more."
"Why, mother," said Catherine, "how can that be?"
"Shut the shutter," said Mrs. Nelson, "and then look in my eye." She did
so; and she saw the pupil of her mother's eye grow larger and larger.
"Now open it," said her mother. She did so, and it gradually became
smaller. "Oh, it is very curious," said Catherine. "But, mother, is not
that pretty rim round the pupil of any use?"
"That is what it called the iris," answered her mother, "which is the
latin name for _rainbow_, I suppose from some fancied resemblance to
it. It is thought that by means of it the pupil of the eye is enlarged
or contracted. If you remember, my child, the pain you feel in your eyes
when you come from the dark suddenly into the light, you will understand
the use of this, and see what a beautiful contrivance it is. In the dark
your pupils become very large, so as to catch all the light they can.
When the light comes before they have time to grow smaller, they take in
more light than they can bear without pain.
"There is another thing that you never thought of. You know that if your
eyes were fixed fast, as your ears and nose are, you could only see
straight forward, or you would have to keep your head twirling about
continually. But the eye is set loose in the head, and surrounded with
little muscles, things with which we can turn it up, or down, or in any
way, just as we wish. You know how long it takes grandfather to fix his
telescope; but our eyes are ready, quicker than we think.
"You perceive, my dear, that this beautiful and curious thing, the eye,
is very delicate, and easily injured, and if anything destroys our
sight, it is a great calamity, and that the eye ought to be carefully
protected. And so you will find that it is. It is placed in a deep
socket, surrounded by bone, and lined with something very soft. It
shelves over on the upper part, so as to form the eye-bow, which is a
great protection to it. It is important that it should be kept clear and
bright, and there is a little vessel close to it, full of salt water,
called tears, to wash it clean, whenever we open or shut the eye; and
there is a little hole in the bone of the nose to carry off the water
after it has washed the eye. Then it has a nice cover, which we call the
eyelid, with a beautiful fringe on the edge of it to shut the eye up
tight, away from the dust and air when we do not want to use it: and
which, moves so quick, that it shuts up in an instant if anything
touches or alarms the eye. Indeed, it seems to be always employed in
watching over and protecting this precious instrument of knowledge.
"There is still another thing, my dear, to be remembered about the eye.
It is so made that sight is pleasant to it. The blue sky, the green
grass, the flowers, the rainbow, all give it pleasure.
"A baby, you know, loves to look about, though it knows nothing. Our
Father in Heaven has made it a great happiness to us merely to open our
eyes upon the beautiful world he has made."
After a short silence, Catherine said to her mother, "You told me that
these curious painters, as you call them, drew the pictures of
everything in that wonderful book that you described. How is that done,
mother?"
"All we know," answered Mrs. Nelson, "is, that the back part of the eye,
where the pictures are painted is connected with the brain, and that by
this means we become acquainted with the appearance of things."
WELL SPENT HOUR.
[Illustration]
THE UPAS, OR POISON TREE.
This curious and wonderful tree is found in the forests of Java; the gum
which it yields is a rank poison, and, indeed, so strong and powerful is
the poison of this tree, that the effluvia from it prevents any tree,
plant, or shrub, from growing within ten or twelve miles of it. The
country is perfectly barren; not a living thing, or even a blade of
grass, is to be seen. The chiefs and grandees of the country poison the
points of their arrows and daggers with the poison of this tree; but as
it is certain death to approach the tree, the task of collecting the gum
is given to people who have committed some very wicked act, and are
condemned to suffer death. After sentence of death has been passed on
them, they are allowed to choose whether they will be executed, or go to
the upas tree for a quantity of the gum.
"If they were to ask me, mamma, I would go to the tree."
"Many of them do go, Henry; but I believe not more than two out of
twenty escape death. Before the criminals commence their journey, they
are furnished with a box for the gum, a pair of very thick leather
gloves, and a kind of leather cap, which is drawn over the face and
reaches down to the waist. They wear this cap to prevent them as much as
possible from inhaling the air, which, as I mentioned before, is
poisonous for some miles round the tree; there are two glasses fixed in
the cap, to enable them to see without removing it; they are usually
accompanied by a priest for the first three miles of their journey, who,
when he takes leave of them, blesses them, and informs them in which
direction they are to travel, and also advises them to proceed as
speedily as they can, as that is the only chance they have of saving
their lives."
"I should think, mamma, it would be much better to do without poison, as
it is only used to kill people."