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PUBLISHED BY THE 
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In compliance with current 
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Products produced this 

replacement volume on paper 

that meets the ANSI Standard 

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irreparably deteriorated 

original. 

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":oV 



eONTEHTS. 



EtrnTs PrasT Joorset 5 

The I.iTn,E Slave is 

Ohe More WObKBr 15 

A Scene at a Railboas Station . . . . le 

Jessie's Htacihth 21 

Don't Smoke 'H 

I.UCI Lee 28 

A Good ANSWER' 32 

UoTivBa Ann Actions 33 

How Pictures Abe kaiie 36 

Little May abd the Olo Man. ... as 

How God takes care of his Cait- 

lAJIBS AT PW.Y 4B 

Out of the MODth of BAees 50 

My Visit to the Doos t 

The MisaiONABY F amtt. y ta 

Sot all for One 60 

Charlie Ray's Trodblbs 63 

WORKHiO POE lUMOHTALITr 68 

ANNti 'fi Disobedience OS 

The Little 80IjDI£& 72 



The good Fight of Faith . . 
Greta and the Flowers . . 
The little Face is Hobtos . 

LrrtLE Matty; or, What li 

GiSFATi ; AN Idol God ■ . . , 

Elsie's Bodes 

GODio INTO A Ming 

Sow EE3I0E ALL WATEBS . . . 

The Hybrid Tree 

The Great Conqueror . . . , 
The Pilgrim Monument . . . 
Tbe Truant Skater . ■ . . . 

The alpine Pass. . 

" stinginess " . . . . 
The "Geotto del Ca 

Too HUOH TBOCBLE. 



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'Mam.t Slocies* 




RUTH'S FIRST JOURNEY. 
Little Eutli stood at the front window of a large farm-house, 
and looked eagerly down the village road. Occasionally she 
glanced with great satisfaction at her crimson merino frock, 
her holiday attire ; for every day this child ran about the farm 
hunting for eggs, and giving the aid of her little hands wher- 



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6 HOME STORIES. 

ever they were needed, in a plainer dress of dark stuff, and a 
long-«Ieeved, gingham apron. An unusual event was about to 
take place in Ruth's life. She was going to visit an aunt who 
lived twenty miles away, and, as the two places were not con- 
nected by a railroad, it had been arranged that an old minister, 
who was returning to the village, should carry with him, in his 
chaise, .the little traveler. This accounted for the agitation 
Ruth .felt, while waiting in her warm coat and straw hat for 
the coming of the venerable man. Ruth had also under her 
care a thick shawl and a basket, into which she peeped fre- 
quently to see if the red apples and cakes of maple sugar 
were safe, and on the steps her hair trunk was placed. Now, 
this journey happened many years ago, when little girls seldom 
went away from home with their clothes packed in trunks by 
themselves. All others in the farm-house were eating dinner. 
Ruth had begged her mother to let her watch for the chaise, 
meanwhile. 

It was that pleasant season of the year when the sap springs 
again into the trees, and the violets know that it is time to 
open ; when the little straws and threads are picked up by the 
builders of cunning nests. It was spring, too, in Ruth's life ; 
she was full of happy anticipation. When the old horse first 
came in sight, Ruth called out joyfully ; the family gathered 
about her, glad to help, in any way, the child who was always 
willing to help others. 



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roth's first JOtTRNET. 7 

The chaise approached slowly, and at last stopped before the 
gate. A mild, kind face looked out ; Kuth saw the silvery 
hair and the white cravat, and began to regret her coming 
ride. One brother took up the hair trunk and strapped it on 
a rack behind the chaise; the father shook hands with the 
minister, and lifted Ruth carefully to the seat by his side. 
Another brother handed the shawl and basket to be stowed 
away in the vacant space between them, for Ruth was very 
small The mother stood in the door-way smiling another 
good-by; the sisters laughed and talked to cheer poor Ruth, for 
she had tearful eyes at the prospect of going away so far with 
this grave old minister. 

The reins were gently pulled, and the obedient horse 
resumed his usual pace ; the old chaise creaked and rocked, and 
Ruth had fairly commenced her long-talked-of journey. She 
looked timidly at her companion ; he was apparently meditat- 
ing on some subject far beyond her comprehension. Little 
Ruth felt very much as if she was shut up with an old- 
fashioned book of divinity. The good man was indeed full of 
thought; the mysterious providences of God filled bis mind, 
and he pondered on the days of old. He was quite forgetful, 
for a time, of the child intrusted to his care ; she had taken 
such a very short step in life that he knew not what to say to 
her ; his thoughts and words were " grown up," not adapted to 
childish eara 



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HOME STORIES. 



Rutli busied herself with studjdng the horse and his heavy 
harness, then the narrow -view visible from the chaise. Just as 
Ruth's tongue was beginning to feel restless, in its unaccus- 
tomed stillness, and the road grew very flat and uninteresting, 
and just as she was wondering whether she had better eat an 
apple, the old minister remembered that he had in his chaise a 
little girl, and came down from his solemn thoughts. In vain, 
he tried to think of somethuig to say to her ; perhaps she was 
sleepy; he turned toward her, but the bright eyes were 
watching him curiously. When they reached a long hill, 
where the horse walked in a very moderate way, the old 
minister made one more effort, and said to Ruth, " Little girl, 
do you love the Lord Jesus Christ?" Ruth's heart began to 
beat very fast when she heard this question; she was old 
enough to know the whole mystery of godhness, and felt 
afraid that her answer woiJd astonish and displease her com- 
panion; at last, after much hesitation, she repUed faintly, 
" Tes ; I beheve I do." 

"Do you?" said the old man, with a smile of joy; ^Tm glad! 
I'm so glad!" then both were silent ■ again. Ruth began to 
meditate, now, on some of the very things which had been in 
the mind of her old friend. She was a little frightened at 
herself for saying so decidedly that she loved the Lord Jesus, 
for she was not quite sure that she did in reahty possess that 
new heart ; but she could not bear to say to this minister of 



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roth's first jodenet. 



Christ that she did not love the dear Saviour who had suffered 
UtUe children to come unto him. 

The twenty mUes began to seem long to Ruth ; she was 
anxious to reach her aunt's that her attention might be 
diverted from that haunting question. She sat on the very 
edge of the seat, that she might the better watch the farm- 
houses they passed. The sap-pails in the maple-trees, the cows 
in the yard, made her think of home, and their gathering 
about the tea-table. The old horse jogged along slower than 
ever ; Ruth wrapped her shawl about her, and nibbled quietly 
a cake of maple sugar. To her great relief, the scattered 
houses of the village at length appeared. Nor was it very 
- long before the aunt's famihar face banished from Ruth the 
tinge of homesickness which the evening lights had inspired. 
Ruth did not again remember that question until, left alone by 
her aunt, she knelt to pray her evening prayer. Then the 
words, " Lovest thou me ? " rang in her ears, and her heart 
coiJd not answer. 

Long after this ride had faded entirely from the recollection 
of the old minister, he was again preaching in the village 
where Ruth Uved one of his last sermons. As he left the 
pulpit, a young girl lingered in the aisle to speak with him. 

" I am that little Ruth," she said, " who rode in your chaise, 
of whom you asked a question which troubled me until I 
could answer it aright Then I did not love the Lord Jesus 



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10 



Christ; but now I can truly say, 'Thou knowest all things, thou 
knowest that I love thee.' " 

Tears of holy joy filled the old man's eyes. That one 
question will add to the brightne^ of his crown, will save a 
soul from eternal death. That dull and dreary ride was fuU 
of blessedness to Euth, for through eternity she will repeat 
with ever-growing confidence, *' Thou knowest all things, thou 
hiowest that I love thee." 



THE CHILDREN'S PSALM. 

Little did David think, when he wrote " The Lord is my 
shepherd," how many lambs of the flock, down to the end of 
the world, would call it " my psalm ; " how often it would be 
lisped on mothers' knees when the daylight was fading ; how 
bright eyes would grow still brighter when the minister in the 
pulpit chanced to read it from the big church Bible ; how it 
would be loved and cherished through life, above aU the other 
songs of the sweet singer of Israel, till the little one, grown 
old and gray-headed, standing in the gathering shadows of the 
dark valley, could still say, " I wUl fear no evil, for thou art 
with me ! " 

The dearest lamb to me in all the flock was sitting on my 



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THE CHILDREN 8 PSALM. 11 

knee in the Sabbath twilight, repeating the psahn with many 
a gallant dash at the long, hard words, and sinkin g back with a 
sigh of self-congratnlation when the last verse was reached. 
For a few minutes he leaned his head on my shoulder, and 
silently watched the stars as they came out one after another 
in the darkening sky, — but silence was not a frequent guest 
on those prattling Ups. 

" Auntie," he said, " where is the house of the Lord ? did 
you ever go there ? " 

So I told him, in words he could understand, of the house 
not made with hands, — the place Jesus has gone to prepare, — 
the beautiful city whose streets are of gold, and its gates of pearl, 
and of the multitude of little children who are there, with 
their music and gladness, their tears all wiped away, and their 
pain gone for ever. 

"And are there green pastures there, and still waters?" he 
asked with sparkling eyes. I turned to the twenty-second 
chapter of Revelation, and read a few verses about the river, 
clear as crystal, and the tree of life on either side. 

" And is mamma there 1 and when they packed little Alice 
up in a box, did the" send her to. the house of the Lord 
for ever ? " 

* Yes, mamma is there, and baby Alice is there, too ; but it 
was only her little body that we put in the coffin, — the angels 
came for her soul, and carried it right to Jesus' home." 



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12 



HOME STORIES. 



*' Let US go there, auntie, — such a nice place to live in ! " 

" We can't go there, dear, till God sends for ns." 

" Well, if an angel skovM come some afternoon, and say God 
had sent him for little Eddie Arnold, you would let me go 
with him, wouldn't you ? " . 

" Yes, darling," I said ; " I couldn't keep little Eddi5, if Jesus 
wanted him;" but in my heart I prayed that the day might be 
far distant when the boy should be wanted among the angela. 

A few weeka had passed. The rose-bushes that were then 
showing their first green leaves were now full of blossoms, — 
the Sabbath twilight was again settling over the earth ; but 
the Angel of Death had come for the little lamb I loved, — he 
was leading him even then into the valley. 

All through the day he had lain in a stupor, but now his 
eyes opened, and, as they met mine, he said, "Say it, auntie, — 
my psalm." 

Slowly I repeated, " The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not 
want He maketh me to He down in green pastures: he 
leadeth me beside the still waters." 

Dreamily he repeated after me, — "green pastures, — still 
waters." 

Ah, my darling! the waters were veri/ "still" for you, — still 
and low, scarcely wetting the little feet that passed through 
them so fearlessly. One gasp, and there was another lamb 
safe in the fold of the Good. Shepherd. 



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THE LITTLE SLAVE. 







'■^^^lis 




THE LITTLE SLAYE. 

I DWELL where the sun 
Shines gayly and bright, 

Where flowers of rich beauty 
Are ever in sight ; 



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HOME STORIES. 

Here blooms the magnolia, 
Here orange-trees wave; 

But oh, not for me, — 
I'm a poor little slave! 

They say, " Sunny South " 

Ib the name of my home ; 
'Tis here that your robins 

And- bluebirds are come, 
While snows cover nests up, 

And angry winds rave ; 
l^ey may rest here, — not I; 

Fm a poor little slave ! 

Here beautifiil mothers, 

'Mid splendors untold, 
Their fairy-like babes 

To their fond bosoms fold; 
My mmnma's worked out, 

And lies here in the grave ; 
There's none to kiss me^— 

I'm a poor little slave ! 

I've heard mistress telling^ 

Her sweet little son, 
"WTiat Jesus, the loving. 

For children has done ; 



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ONE MOEE WORKEE. 

Perhaps little black ones 
He also Trill save ; 

I ask hirn to take me, 
A poor little slave! 



ONE MORE WORKER. 



Mattie had been very sick, but her life was spared. There 
was more work for her to do. Her pale, thin face was a per- 
petual reminder to "Willis of God's great mercy in giving her 
back to them after taking her down so near to the shadow of 
the grave. He was almost constantly with her, beg uilin g the 
tedious hours of convalescence with stories or quiet talk. 
When she slept, he held the little blue-veined hand, or softly 
smoothed the brown hair. . "The "boys" might have laughed, 
had. they seen him; but what were the "boy?" to him, com- 
pared with Mattie ? Their laugh was not the bugbear that it 
had been. He seemed changed in more ways than one. 

One evening while Mattie slept, "Willis sat with his mother 
in the parlor. The lamps had not been hghted, and the coaJ- 
fire but faintly illumined the room. Mrs. Walker smoothed 
back the hair from her boy's forehead, musingly. "WeU, 
"Willis," said she at length, "where are you?" 



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16 



HOME STOEIES 



" A good way off, mother ; among the stars," 

" Rather a long joumeyj Willis, for one evening ! " 

" Yes'm ; I know it ; I was thinking " — 

"Thmkingwhat?" 

"I was thinking how every thing in nature is useful, and has 
something to do ; and I wondered if stars have any thing to do. 
Have they ? " 

" You know what the sun is to us, and the moon ; and think 
what the North Star is to the traveler and the sailor; and then 
to the poor slaves it is a kind of star of Bethlehem, guiding to 
the land where for them Liberty lies new-bom." 

*'Yes, mother." 

"Perhaps some of these stars are North Stars to other 
worlds ; perhaps some are suns and moons. Every star has its 
own part in the wonderful economy of the Universe." 

" Well," said Wihis, presently, " to come down a httle, what 
do you suppose is m?/ work ? " 

" Can't you possibly find out 1 " 

" Why, I don't see any regular work ; — there's enough small 
fiy to see to ; but I've been looking ahead ! " 

Mrs. Walker smiled. " The large work wiU appear in time. 
You know the sajdng : There's a loom for every man who can 
weave. See to your ' small fry ' carefully, and if you reaUy 
want to be a worker, God will provide work." 

WilUs spoke earnestly, " I do want to be a worker, mother. 



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OKE MORE WORKER. 17 

I never used to think much about it ; but lately it has seemed 
to me I ought to be doing something." 

"Why, dear Willis?" 

"Not because Mattie is better" said Willis in a choked 
voice ; " but I've thought up a great many things. I don't 
deserve such mercy at all, and if God loves me so, I want to 
love him and do something for him. I mean, any way, I want 
to stand up on his side. It aE came over me by degrees, how 
selfish I had been, — always trying to make number one com- 
fortable, and forgetting other people. I know it wasn't 
Christ's way, and I'm determined it shan't be mine." 

" That is right, Willis," said his mother. " If you bravely 
and earnestly try to follow Christ, he himself wOl help you. 
There is strong help to be had simply for the asking." 

" What do you think my work is, mother ? " said Wilhs. " I 
must take care of my feelings, and " 

" No, my son ; leave that to Christ. Thai is not part of 
your work." 

" Well, I mean I've got to do right, and that's hard enough ; 
but I want something else. I feel as if I could dig right 
through a mountain ! " 

Mrs. Walker smiled, but the smile grew sad. 

"'Doing right' covers a great deal of ground, my boy! 
Your mountain is yourself. The better you know Willis 
Walker, the clearer you wiU see that you have plenty of work 



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18 



HOME STORIES 



on hand ! The * great work ' ■will come along in due time. 
You must be faithful, upright, true, in every little thing. You 
can honor Christ in your every-day life, at school, at home, at 
play. You can live such a beautiful, holy life, now while you 
are only a school-boy, that it will help the Saviour's cause." 

" I hope I shall, mother. But if I happen to forget ? If I 
torment Mattie before I think ? " 

" Then you will ask forgiveness of One who will be more 
grieved than she; and if you are in earnest, you will be 
willing to ask her forgiveness, too." 

"Willis winced as he thought how his pride must be brought 
down before he could do that. " Any way, you rebel," said he 
to himself, as he went up-stairs, " you and I will have some 
tussles, I guess, and you don't beat either ! with God's help," 
he added, reverently, 

" Mattie, you awake ? " 

«Yes, Wilhs." 

" If you'll guess this riddle, I'll roast the best sweet apple 
in the house for your supper ! " 

" Oh, dear ! " said Mattie ; " I'll try, but I know I can't 
guess." 

" What enemy is there, who hates boys, who torments them 
from morning till night, who helps them do wrong and keeps 
them from confessing it, who attacks them on ail sides like a 
swarm of bees? Sometimes he kills the boy, and sometimes 



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A SCENE AT A RAILROAD STATION. 19 

the boy kills him (as I intend to); but the strangest thing 
is, nobody ever saw this enemy. Now show the Yankee 
colors, little Mattie ! " 



A SCENE AT A RAILROAD STATION. 

Among the green hills of New Hampshire, where the flowers 
bloom wild, and the bright berries grow by the road-side, I was 
waiting for the cars to take me to my home, when I heard a 
loud whistle, and rumbling and rattling through the woods 
they came ; but instead of the nice cars, with open windows, 
came a long train of boards and barrels, and huge boxes, hold- 
ing I don't know what ; then one car all closed up save the 
sides, where there were long slats put across. And what do 
you think I could see behind them ? Just as many sheep and 
lambs as could be put in ; and as the cars stopped a moment, 
there they stood, looking through the narrow windows, no 
doubt wishing they could get out to nibble the sweet clover, 
and lie under the shady trees, — for they looked so hot and 
crowded and dusty I know they would have enjoyed it ver}- 
much. 

Little boys and girls sometimes like to ride in the cars, for 



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W HOME STORIES. 

they have nice seats and plenty of room to make themselves 
comfortable ; but I don't believe the poor sheep and lambs ever 
like to ride in such a way ; and I could not help thinking how 
patient they were, how gentle and quiet, although they were 
leaving the bright green fields and sweet clover, and were shut 
up so close, where they could not even rest themselves by 
lying down. 

Don't you remember that Jesus was called the Lamb of 
God ? This was because he was so gentle and good; and don't 
you think we all ought to be like him ? But we very often 
forget and grow impatient and fretful ; but I hope that when 
we are tempted to be so, we may remember the Lamb of God 
and try very hard to please him. 

God, who made the sheep and lambs, takes care of them, as 
well as of the little sparrows. Let us love him, and ask him 
to take care of us, also, and take us when we die to the fold 
of the great Shepherd above. 



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JESSIE S HTACINTH. 



JESSIE'S HYACINTH. 



" Oh, I do ■wish I was grown up ! " exclaimed Jessie Burns 
one morning as she looked out of the window. It was no un- 
common wish with her, nor is it with other little girls eight 
years old; but her tone indicated some new reason for it just 
then ; so her mother asked, " Why, my child ? " 

" Because I want to be of some use in the world. I mean 
to be ever so good, mamma, when I am grown up, and to do 
good, oh, so much good, — more than any body ever did before, 
— don't you hope I shall?" 

" Yes, dear, I hope you will do a great deal." 

" I don't know but I shall be a missionary : I've been think- 
ing that would be a good way, wouldn't it, mamma ? " 

" Yes, a very good way, if you were fitted for one, and the 
way should be opened for you." 

" I guess I'U go to Africa ; Mr. Lindley told us such nice 
stories about Africa, you know ; only they are all black folks 
there, real jet-black negroes; I shouldn't much like to live 
with black folks aH the time. But then a missionary wouldn't 
mind such things." 

" No, and you wouldn't go to have a nice time, but to do 
good." 

" Yes ; and I should like to see ostriches and antelopes, and 
all such curious things. I could, you know," she added, seeing 



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22 HOME STORIES. 

a smile hovering about her mother's lips, " while I was doing 
good." 

"Tes." 

" And oh, I hope we should have to hve in wagons, as they 
did ever so many weeks, and be drawn about by oxen. Did 
you hear him tell how they used to tie the oxen to the wagon 
at night, and how when they were all laid down in the wagon 
and most asleep, they could hear them breathing outside, and 
hear the lions xoar off in the great woods close by ? " 

The mother thought of a little girl she knew, who screamed 
with fear, if only a little mouse nibbled at the wall. Perhaps 
Jessie did, too, for after a little meditation, she said, — 

" I guess missionaries are never afraid of any thing ; and he 
said they didn't come near them, because they built a bright 
fire to keep them off" 

Jessie ran on at much greater length, planning the details 
of her wandering African life, ending at last with a great sigh, 
and the exclamation with which she began, " Oh, if I were 
only grown up, — I can't go till I am ! " 

" Not to Africa, Jessie, hut you can begin to do good now, 
and that will he the best way of preparing yourself to become 
a missionary." 

"Why, how can I do good, mamma? I can't think of any way." 

" You know Miss Dana, and how long she has been sick, and 
how very fond she is of flowers?" 



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Jessie's hyacinth. 23 

"Yes, mammaj" said Jessie, greatly wondering what that 
could have to do with her question. 

"I was thinking of her this morning, and wishing I could do 
something for her, she is so lonely and often sad ; and just then, 
my eye fell on your beautiful hyacinth, and I thought how 
much she would enjoy it" 

" But you don't mean that I should give that away ! " 

" You could, if you wished to do good," 

"Why, mamma, I love that better than all my flowers, — a 
great deal better ! " and her eyes filled with tears. 

" But you can never do good, my child, or have a genuine 
desire to, without being willing to make sacrifices. Self-denial 
is the very essence of benevolence, — its life, without which it 
can never attain to strength or value." 

The struggle began in little Jessie's heart, — that struggle so 
often going on in young hearts and old, between inclination 
and conscience. She felt as if she ought to be self-denying, 
but she did not want to be ; and it really cost her a severe 
effort to decide to carry her cherished plant to cheer the 
lonely invalid. But once decided, her heart felt lighter ; and 
after dinner, she tripped over to Miss Dana's with the hyacinth 
in her hand, her cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling with a 
consciousness that she was doing good, 

" Oh, mamma ! " she exclaimed, on her return, *' Miss Dana 
was so glad and so pleased, she could hardly keep from crying. 



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24 



HOME STORIHS. 



She said the very sight of the beautiful blossoms sent sad 
thoughts out of her mind, and made her feel better than she 
had for weeks, I am so glad I carried it to her ; it made her 
happy, and me happy, too." 

And the glad mother folded her own sweet flower in her 
arms lovingly, and gave her a tender idss, Her heart was 
happy too. 



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|| 


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tt 


■HH^^U 


Pi 


^^^w^^^ 




DON'T SMOKE. 


Oh, little boy. 


don't smoke, now don't ! It is a dreadful 


habit. It will ruin your health, waste your money, disgrace 


your parents, and 


make you disagreeable to every person of 



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^, don't smoke. 25 

refinement or decency- You say it is manly. What makes 
you think so? Because men do it? But men steal and 
swear and drink rum. And are these practices manly, and 
are vou going to imitate these, too ? Oh, no, you are 
mistaken ; it is not manly. I'll tell you why. It is not manly 
to do any thing wrong. It is mean to do wrong. 

Is it manly to make yourself sick ? " Oh," you say, " smoking 
doesn't make me sick," But it did once, before you got used to 
the taste and smell of the nasty weed. I recollect very well 
that summer morning, when you came in from your play in 
such a hurry, and threw yourself down on the lounge in the 
basement, looking as white as a sheet. How faint and death- 
like you felt ! You were frightened, too, and so was your poor 
mother. " Dear me," she exclaimed, " what can be the matter 
with Henry ? Why, he was just as well as ever at breakfast 
time! Why, Henry, what ails you? What has happened?" 
But you never answered a word, and only tossed your head 
from side to side, growing more pale and sick every moment. 
" Run for the doctor this moment, Bridget, and go in for Aunt 
Carrie, too. Henry is so sick, I don't know but he'll die." 

How did that word " die " make you feel just then ? Did it 
make you feel any easier in body or mind ? Then Aunt 
Carrie came in, and what did she say ? She didn't seem so 
very much alarmed after she had stood and looked at you a 
moment But you saw her smile a queer sort of a smUe as she 



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26 



HOME STORIES. 



turned around to your mother, and said, '' He'll be better by 
and by, Mary ; don't be worried. It's nothing but that cigar I 
saw him smoking this morning." 

"A cigar? This morning? My Henrj- smoking? Why, 
Carrie, what do you mean ? " 

" Henry knows well enough what I mean," said Aunt Carrie ; 
and slie turned again and fixed her large black eyes full on 
yoii. How red you grew all at once! — and you threw your 
head round with a quick motion as if you were very sick 
again, and tried to cover uji your blushing face. But it had 
told the truth. 

Well, your mother wasn't quite so mucii frightened after that, 
but she had a heav}-, aching feeling away down in her heart, 
that was very hard to bear. " Oh, dear ! " she kept saying to 
herself, " Oh, dear ! " And when the doctor came and gave 
you that ugly emetic that was so hard to take, and made you 
feel so badl}'- after you had swallowed it, your motlicr didn't 
feel half so much concerned at your pain, as she did at the 
thought of what you had done, and she hoped that the nau- 
seous medicine would for ever cure you. You remember how 
she talked to you afterward, don't you ? Yes ; you will never 
forget that. I am sure you thmk of it every time you put a 
cigar into your mouth. What a pity ! 

Is it manly to waste your money, or your father's money, to 
buy cigars with ? No indeed ! the money belongs to God, and 



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don't smoke. 27 

it is wicked to use it for what can do you no good, and still 
worse to spend it for what will do you harm. If all the 
money spent for cigars was put together in one great pile, how 
much there would be, and how much good could be accom- 
plished with it. I know some men that have smoked their 
money almost all away. "Wouldn't you rather have gold than 
smoke for your portion ? I would. 

And do you think it is manly to make yourself disagreeable 
to nice people ? I can't bear to go any where near a person 
that smokes. I know a great manj^ others who feci just the 
same. I wouldn't marry a man who smoked, — not I. I 
couldn't love him at all, he would be so disgusting to me. You 
had better take care, little boy. Perhaps you may take a 
great fancy to somebody, one of these days, who feels just as I 
do, and it might hurt your feelings very much for you to find 
out that slie didn't like you and the reason why. 

Oh, little boy, don't smoke ! Throw away that cigar, and 
promise yourself and God that you will never touch your lips 
to another as long as you live. 



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HOME STOEIES. 




A D&m lover of all that is beautiful in nature is little Lucy Lee. 
A gleam of sunlight is herself, wherever she goes ; up-stairs in 
the uurser}', or in the playroom, down in the kitchen, out in 
the garden among the flowers, in the woods and fields looking 
for the first Ijlue violets, or sitting quietly in her mother's 



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LUCY LEE. 29 

room with her sewing, as you see her here, she seems the same 
happy child, such as makes older hearts grow light, and sad 
faces glad. 

Perhaps one reason why Lucy always seems so happy is, 
that her mother never looks cross, and she has been taught 
from infancy that nothing is worth a cross look or an angry 
word. 

Not that Lucy never does wrong. I do not think she means 
to be naughty, — for if she is, one sight of her mother's grieved 
face will almost break her heart, and she is not satisfied until 
her mother's kiss, and a promise tliat she "will not feel badly 
any more," tells her she is forgiven, — but she always seems so 
happy, I feel she can not be often naughty. 

She has had her ramble out of doors, and has finished her 
lessons with mamma, and now the little fingers are busily 
stitching a garment for Dolly, whose summer wardrobe is " all 
out of order," Lucy says, having been very much diminished 
by the gifts she has sent from it to other dolls, not so well pro- 
vided for. She has climbed up into the window where she 
loves to sit, not forgetting the hyacinth which she carries with 
her -from room to room, that she may lose nothing of its 
sweetness ; and busy you see her as any young mother who is 
aroused to the wants of her little family by the soft, faint-away 
air of the coming spring. 

" Oh, mamma, do see this dear little robin so close to the 



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30 



HOME STORIES 



window ! I do believe it is the very one that built bis nest 
here last year, and he has come back to see if it is ready 
for him. Do you remember how Jamie used to watch him 
picking np straws, and sometimes the threads and bits of 
cotton we threw out for him ? Oh, I am so glad spring has 
come ! " and then without awaiting any reply, she went on 
thinking aloud. " How Jamie would love to see them now ! 
He used to say 'birdie' so cunningly, and listen for their 
singing, and make his hands go so fast, laughing to see how 
quickly he could make them fly away. Oh, I do wish he was 
here now, mamma ! Do you think there are birds in heaven ? " 

Her mother was silent j and in a monient Lucy dropped 
her work, and, jumping down from the window, she clasped 
her mother lovingly as she saw her tearful eyes, saying, " I 
am very sorry I said so, I didn't mean to make you cry, but 
I only thought how Jamie used to love the birds. That was 
not wrong, was it, mamma?" 

" Ob, no ! my daughter, but you brought him so before me 
as I used to see him standing and begging to get up to the 
window; and then I felt how we had missed him." 

" ' P'ease, sister, p'ease,'- he used to say, and stamp his little 
feet as if he could not wait a minute. Don't you wish he 
was here ? " she added, earnestly. 

"No, Lucy, I can not say that, for he is where he will 
never be sick any more, nor tired." 



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LUCT LEE. 6i 

" But, mammaj won't he be very lonely away from you ? 
He was always shy of strangers, and there is no one in 
heaven who knows Jamie." 

" Oh, yes ! dear grandma is there, and Aunt Martha, and 
there are many little children there too, and Jesus, who loves 
Jamie better even than we could, and there is music there." 

"And Jamie loved music. I used to think I should never 
want to go to heaven without you and papa, but now he is 
there it seems more home-like, and not so far off " 

" That is one reason why Jesus took Jamie to himself, I 
suppose, to make us think more of heaven." 

Lucy sat thinking. — " Do you suppose I should go to 
heaven ? " she said, in a tremulous voice. " You have often 
told me, none but good people could go there, and I know I 
am not always good, for I sometimes make you sorry ; but I 
am so glad I was kind to Jamie ! I don't believe I ever hurt 
iiim." 

" No, Lucy, I don't think you ever did, and that will always 
be pleasant for you to remember, but that would not take you 
to heaven. If you were ever so good, you could not go there, 
unless Jesus had come to this world and died for you." 

" Is that why I always say, ' for Jesus' sake,' when I ask God 
for anything?" 

" Yes ; we could none of Us go to heaven, if it were not for 
■what Jesus has done for ns. You are too young yet to under- 



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6A HOME STORIES. 

stand how it is, but you can remember that he is your best 
friend, and thank him for opening for us the way to such a 
happy home." 

" I'm sure I ought to love him very much and do something 
for him. Could I, mamma ? " 

" Yes, Lucy ; you can do what he most wants you to do. 
You can give him yourself, and that means to give him your 
love and your service, to live to please him, instead of pleasing 
yourself; and he will help you to do this." 

Lucy went to her room with a softened heart, and prayed 
more earnestly than ever before, that Jesus would take her 
for one of his loving, little friends, and make her very good 
and very useful 

Dear Httle reader, will you not do' so too? 



A GOOD ANSWER. 

A. YODNG lady in a Sabbath school, a few mornings since, 
a-sked her class how soon a child should give its heart to 
God. One little girl said, When thirteen years old ; another, 
ten ; another, sis. At length the last spoke : " Just as soon as 
we know who God is." Could there be a better reply ? 



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AND ACTIONS. 



MOTIVES AND ACTIONS. 



"There is one thing Miss Leighton always nas in her 
prayer, mother, that I don't exactly undefstand." 

" What is it Bell ? " aaked her mother, gently, as she noticed 
Bell's hesitation. 

" Something abont our motives, mother ; she asks that ' we 
may be careful that our actions shall be the result of pure 
motives.' And I am sure she thinks a great deal about that, 
from something I heard her say to-day. It was when Bessie 
Green came in at recess, and asked permission to go with a 
poor woman who was lame and carrying a basket of work, ' 
and help her by taking the basket for her to her home. 
It was a long way up the hiU, and Bessie did not get- back 
until the school was nearly closed." • 

"What was it that Miss Leighton said?" 

" One of the older girls asked her, just after Bessie started, 
' if that -was not beautiful in Bess ? ' and Miss Leighton said, 
'It is always pleasant to see persons kind to the unfortu- 
nate, but the beauty and worth of the action depend upon 
the motive.' There was a curious little smile, too, about the 
comers of her mouth which made me think she meant some- 
thing special about Bess." 

" Perhaps not Could you think of any other reason Bessie 



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34 , HOME STORIES. 

might have had for asking to go, besides helping the lame 
woman ? " 

"To be tnought well of by the other girls, do you mean?" 

"That mgU have been the reason, — could you think of 
another ? " 

A little pink tinge covered Bell's cheeks as she replied, 
"If / had asked to go with the lame woman, tiiere might 
have been another." 

"What, Bell?" 
I should have been away from my arithmetic recitation, 
and sometimes I might have liked that, but to-day I shouldn't, 
for I had my lesson perfectly, and had all my examples 
ready on my slate." 

" I can show you what your teacher means by being care- 
ful of our motives. Bell. Suppose you had not had your 
lesson, and had asked to help the poor woman. The act 
would have appeared the same, but the motive — a desire 
to cover your own fault by apparent kindness to another — 
would not have been worthy of the action. Bessie may not 
have thought of her lesson, and only have had the best 
motive. But, while it is not right for us to judge others too 
severely, we should scan our own acts carefully. We shall 
never gain any thing but shame and confusion in the end 
from acts, however noble or praiseworthy they may appear, 
if He who reads our hearts, and sees the first springs of 



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MOTIVES AND ACTIONS. 35 

action there, is not pleased with the motives from which 
they spring. 

" Suppose a little girl was often giving her mother trouble 
by staying one or two hours longer than she had permission, 
when allowed to visit little friends. Suppose, one day, she 
was told to be at home precisely at Hiree, and, just as she 
was starting from the door, overheard her mother say to the 
servant, 'We shall ride at three this afternoon,' do you think, 
if that httle girl was home just a little before three that 
day, that she would deserve particular commendation for 
being obedient ? " 

Again the little pink flush came, and Bell said, as she 
remembered her own fault, " Mother, I see there is some one 
who watches motives besides Miss Leighton," 

Bell's mother smiled, as she repUed, " If we take good care 
of them, Bell, it will only be a pleasant thought that others 
sometimes read them ; and could we live so as to be ghd that 
one perfectly good Being always knows them, and loves to 
approve them when right, we should be happy indeed." 



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HOME STOEIES 




HOW PICTURES AEE MADE. 



Many a little reader while looking at the beautiful pictures 
in this book, has said, "I wonder how these pictures are 
made!" We will try to describe the process. 

In the first place, the artist procures a piece of wood, of the 
exact size of the picture he is to make. This is generally 
boxwood,' — a kind which has a very fine grain, and grows com- 
pact and hard. This is sawed across the grain, in blocks about 
an inch long, which will of course be as large as the stick was 
from which they were sawed. As this, however, is rarely more 
than six or eight inches in diameter, two or more blocks are 
joined together when a large picture is to be engraved. 



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HOW PICTOIiES ARE MACE. 37 

When the block is shaped and smoothed, its surface is 
whitened, and it is then ready for use. Next the designer 
draws upon it the picture, in pencil. Then the engraver cuts 
it in the block, using a tool called a graver, — a sort of trian- 
gular-shaped chisel, which is pushed along in the wood, as 
shown in our ciit above. A rod supports a magnifying glass 
near the eye of the artist, to enable him to make the delicate 
lines with the utmost care and nicety. 

When the work is done, the picture will show on the block 
cut in relief. That is, the lines and points are left ahove the 
surface, while all the spaces which are to appear white are cut 
away. For example, in this outline figure of a dog, every 
thing is cut out but the bare outline itself This 
standing higher than the other parts, will re- , 
ceive the ink, when the cut is to be printed, and 
leave it upon the paper which is pressed upon it. 
if the outline itself were cut out, it would appear I 
thus: — 

The engraved block, when finished, is then ) 
set up with the type, ready for printing. 

The beauty of the picture, it is obvious, will depend mostly 
on the skill of the designer and engraver. These are generally 
difierent persons, the two arts, indeed, being reckoned as 
entirely distinct from each other. The designer commonly 
puts his name on one corner of the picture, with the letters 




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HOME ST0EI28 



" del. " for " deKiiivit" i e. " designed ; " the engraver on another 
comer, with " sc. " for " sculpsit^' i. e. " engraved." Often, bow- 
ever, the names alone are regarded as sufi&cient. 

Of course these engravings must be expensive. Several 
days, and sometimes weeks, are required to complete a large 
picture. So much, however, do they add to the beauty and 
interest of books and papers, that they are now very exten- 
sively used. Most people are willing to pay enough more ' 
for handsomely Olustrated pubbcations to make np the differ- 
ence in cost. 



LITTLE MAY AND THE OLD MAN. 

One sunny day, fair little May 
Went through tbe woodland near; 

Tripping along by brook and stone, 
Witliout a thought of fear ; 

Though she had never known the way 

Until she found it out that day. 

Outside the wood, a path she took, 

That to the meadow led; ■ 
And there she saw, with book in hand, 

A maa witli hoary head ; 



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LITTLE MAY AHD THE OLD MAN. 

His smile was sweet, his eyes were blue ; 
He said, " Young lady, whence come you ? ' 

" I'm little May ; from home I came 

To take a summer walk ; 
May I sit down upon the bank? 

I'd like with you to talk. 
What is that book within your hand? 
Can I its meaning understand?" 

" Sweet lady, 'tis a blessed book, 
Which makes my old eyes see, 

In that calm sky which hangs abore, 
A blessed company. 

Three children have I living there, 

And I expect their home to share." 

Said little May with wondering eyes, , 

"And win it show to me, 
Oh, good old man, as well as you, 

That glorious company ? " 
" Dear lady, yes ; each human eye 
Their heavenly beauty may descry. 

"Please read your book here by the brook.'' 

And so the old man read" 
Sweet words that filled her with surprise. 

Until she softly said, 



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HOME STORIES. 

"I did not know there is a place 
Where we can see a Saviour's face." 

"He came to earth," the old man said, 

"To die for you and me." 
"Wliy did he die?" "Tliat we might join 

That glorious company." 
And still the old man read his hook. 
And still sung on the chiming brook. 

He read how Jesus put his arms 

Around each little child ; 
And how, with hands upon its head, 

In holy words and mild, 
Each tender little form He blessed, 
Then laid it on the mother's breast. 

And little May, full many a day, 
Passed through the woodland lone. 

And always found the good old man 
Upon his mossy stone ; 

And by the little singing brook, 

He read from his delightful hook. 



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SUST SAID. 



WHAT SUSY SAID. 



Susy's tongue runs as fast as any little girl's can, about a 
great many things; but there is nothing she loves better to 
talk about than what her brother Sammy can do, — how he 
carries her on his sled, how well he skates, how strong he is, 
and how kind. 

One evening, Susy went to a little prayer-meeting. Some- 
thing was said to the children there. They were told that 
now is the time for them to come to Christ; that, as they could 
not be happy if their mothers were angry with them, no more 
could they be happy while God is angry with them ; that to 
love God now with all their hearts is the only way to be happy 
now, as well as to escape the wrath of God for ever, and be 
happy with him eternally, 

Susy said afterwards to a lady who was at the meeting, 
" Why, I never felt so before. I thought what Mr. C. said 
meant something. And when I looked at you, and saw the 
tears on your face, I thought you thought it meant something. 
And when Mr. G, began to pray for us, that we might not 
grieve that kind Saviour, who said, ' Suffer the little ones to 
come unto me,' and who died for us, I was sure he thought it 
meant something too, and that it was time to give myself to 
Christ And I have been trying ; but it is hard work to come 
alone, and I am afraid I shall not stick to it. I want my 



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42 



brothers to be Christians; but I think if Sammy will, he would 
help me most, for he would stick to it" 

So Susy tried to think how she could persuade Sammy to come 
with her and help her iu this new way on which she had set out 

She could not attend the evening meetings, unless one of 
her brothers would go with her, and Sammy used to wonder at 
first why she was so anxious to go, and sometimes tried to 
persuade her to stay at home; but he loved so well to please 
her that her pleadings usually prevailed. 

She had begun that very night to read a chapter in the 
Bible every evening, but she often found verses which she 
could not understand. She had been so accustomed to go 
to him for an explanation of whatever puzzled her, that it 
was very natural to ask him about these. He could not 
tell her any thing about one of them, when she first asked 
him, but after a while he came back and said, — 

" Oh, I remember, now, what my Sabbath-school teacher 
said about that" 

How happy that teacher was to hear that one who had 
often pained her by appearing very inattentive in che class, 
had laid up in his memory some of the things she had tried 
to teach him years before; more happy still, when she 
learned that he had begun to read the Bible with his sister, 
and when, a few days later, he took hold of her hand, and, 
with eyes fuU of tears, said, — 



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HOW GOD TAKES CARE OF HIS CHILDREN. 43 

" I want to thank you a thousand times for the book you 
gave me so long ago, ' Come to Jesus.' I've been reading it 
lately, and I hope it has done me good." 

Will you not pray that Susy and Sammy may both " stick 
to it;" and will you not begin to "cleave unto the Lord"? 



HOW GOD TAKES CAKE OP HIS CHILDREN. 

In my walks acro^ Boston Common a year ago, I often 
met a little lame girl, whose interesting countenance and 
quiet manner, as she offered her candy for sale^ attracted my 
attention. Sometimes, I bought a trifle to encourage her ; at 
others, gave her a penny. She told me that her family 
were very poor, and she tried to help them all she coidd. 
One of her little brothers was also lame ; both were obliged 
to use crutches. 

When the cold weather came on, the little girl was miss- 
ing from her accustomed place; but, as soon as the warm 
breath of returning Spring covered the trees with verdure, 
and the ground with its rich, living carpet of green, she 
returned and offered her small stock of candy to the passer- 
by as before. 

One day, in July last, I found the mother with her little 



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44 



HOME STORIES 



girl. She had a care-worn, anxioua countenance, just one of 
those we can not forget ; while tottering about, now on this 
side, then on that, was a baby, who seemed to have just 
become conscious that it could walk alone. It was rather 
pretty, and its dress, though poor and worn, was neat and 
clean. Such Httle ones always attract me; they remind me 
of the dear ones whose playful, winning ways once made 
up much of the happiness of our household, and do still, 
though their home is now a heavenly one. Taking a penny 
from my purse, I gave it to the baby, and, nodding to the 
mother, who seemed pleased at the notice, I passed on. 

Upon reaching home, a half-dollar, which had been given to 
me for a particular use, was missing. Where could it be ? I 
recollected a recent purchase I had made, and was certain that 
it was then in my purse. I had opened the purse but once 
afterwards, when I took from it the penny. Could I have 
dropped it at that time? I thought not. "Well, wherever 
it is, I hope it may do somebody some good," thought I, and it 
passed from my mind. 

Two months later, I found the mother and her little girl at 
the old place ; a small table stood near, on which were tempt- 
ingly spread out apples, candy, etc. As I approached, the little 
girl ran out to meet me, and the mother exclaimed, " Oh, dear 
lady ! I bless God that I see you, and thank you for the help 
that you gave me that day in my great trouble." 



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HOW GOD TAKES CARE OE HIS CHILDBEN. 45 

*' When was it ? " said L 

" The day that you gave my baby the penny and half-dollar. 
I have prayed to the blessed Jesus for you every day since." 

" I am very glad that it helped you, but I dropped it," said I. 

" Yes," she replied, " when you gave it to the baby," seem- 
ing not to understand me. " Oh, that was the day of my 
great want. My children had nothing to eat, and my oldest 
girl lay on the floor crying with hunger. That was dreadful, — 
that day of my very great want!" she repeated. "The money 
kept my poor children from starving, and if it had not been 
for that, I never could have got this table. I do not sell 
very much, but we have never been so badly ofi" as then." 

" This was the way then," said I to myself, " that my half- 
dollar went. God wanted it to supply the need of his poor, 
suffering ones." I was made the instrument of relieving 
them, and they had prayed that blessings might descend upon 
me. But it was no act of miue. It was not my intention 
to bestow the half-dollar upon them; it had been done by 
a higher power. Could I doubt that it was the hand of a 
kind, heavenly Father, whose watchful care is extended to all ? 
It was one of those beautiful providences, often unseen and 
unnoticed by us, of which the world is so full, by which he 
accomplishes his purposes of mercy and love to his children. 
The cries of that suffering family had reached his ear, and in 
infinite wisdom he came to their rehe£ 



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THE SUMMER CLOUD, AND ITS LESSON. 

It had been a day of much uiihappiness to my spirit. I 
had yielded to temptation once, and several times spoken 
bitterly and ha^tUj to dear friends. When I retired to my 
room at night, I was so unhappy, that it was long before I 
could bring myself to pray ; but when I had done so, earnestly 
and repentantly, I was greatly reheved, and soon after my 
head was laid upon my, pillow, I fell asleep. A kind Father 
watched over me when I could not take any care of myself; 
and although I had disobeyed and forgotten him during the. 
day, he refreshed me with quiet sleep, and kept evil from me. 

At early day I awoke, and to him who should ever receive 
om" first thoughts I offered my morning prayer. One by one, 
the stars faded away, and a broad beam of light flooded the 
distant hill-tops ; it spread wider and wider, till the sunbeams 
streamed up the eastern sky. The clouds, which had gathered 
in one dark mass during the night, now began to separate and 
move away, hastened by the northerly wind which closely 
followed in their track. 

I had closed my eyes for a few moments, when upon open- 
ing them I saw the outhne of a hand pointing with one finger 
toward the rising sun. Instead of passing ofi" as the other 
clouds had done, it remained stationary for a while, and then 
gradually faded away, leaving the clear blue sky in its place. 



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THE SUMMER CLOUD, AND ITS LESSON. 47 

It was a pleasant thouglit to me that perhaps it was designed 
that my sometimes doubting, rebeHious heart should receive a 
lesson from this little cloud-hand ; for it reminded me of that 
which is unseen, yet ever present, which the believer trusts is 
conducting him to his heavenly home ; leading us through the 
mazes of this perplexing life to that world where we shall 
know as we are known, and trouble and sin find no entrance. 

The finger of that summer cloud pointed to the glorious sun 
as he rose to give light to the whole world. It repeated to me 
the oft-told advice of pastor and Sabbath-school teacher, to look 
to the Sun of Righteousness, if in darkness or error, that heal- 
ing and purifying balm might be shed upon my soul by his 
heavenly beams. 

Prom this hoxu', dear young reader, let us strive to walk as 
" children of the light," that when the shadows of death settle 
over us we may behold "light beyond," and find a happy 
entrance where there is no night. Then shall we bless and 
praise the hand which now mixes for us the bitter cup of 
sorrow or disappointment, feeling that it was good that we 
were chastened on earth, else perhaps the glories of the upper 
temple would not have been prepared for us. 



—^■r^^ 



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EOME STORIES 




LAMBS AT PLAY. 

Lambs at play ! A whole family ! A happy family ! "Was 
ever any thing more beautiful to see ! They are so glad to 
escape from their winter quarters and enjoy the fresh, tender 
grass ! Those three in the foreground have had such a frolic, 
playing "hide and go seek" among the low shrubs; or "catch" 
upon the velvety lawn ; and now they are all ready for a 
jump I Can you not almost hear them say, "One to begin! " 



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LAMBS AT PLAT. i\) 

just as you do when you jump on the stout, fresh hay in grand- 
mother's bam 1 

They seem full of life and frolic, and yet they are not rude. 
How very soft their touch as they push each other about ! 
, Tou see as they stand here, Bunch does not crowd Bess off one 
side of the rock, and Bess don't pull Jenny's wool, nor bite her 
ear, nor step on her toes ! Very loving are they in their plays, 
and so their plays always end happily ; and when the mother 
sheep says " B-a-a," Bess pricks up her ears and says " M-a-a," 
and scampers ofl^ as fast as her nimble legs can carry her. Bunch 
and Jenny follow, expecting a call every minute, and obeying 
even before they hear the voice ! 

Very beautiful are they, and do you not think it would be 
very pleasant if every family of brothers and sisters would 
live together as happily as the lambs seem to ? 

You need not always be at play as the lambs are just now, 
to be happy. Play does not always make children happy. 
Indeed, too much play, or playing with a selfish spirit, makes 
them very w?(happy, tired, and cross. It is the heart that 
makes us happy. If that is right, every thing we do is pleas- 
ant If that is wrong, even play is dull and tiresome. 



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HOME STORIES 



"OUT OF TEE MOUTH OF BABES." 

'Tis from the little ones, God, 
Their simple hearts and artless ways, — 

Wiser, because more pure than we, 
Tliou hast perfected praise. 

A tiny creature, scarcely learned 

In words to tell her infant thought, 

A nursling of three tender springs. 
This precious lesson taught. 

She was abroad where social cheer 
To every friendly lip was pressed, 

And love had dainties well prepared 
To please the little guest. 

Her father's faitli for daily bread 
A daily blessing had implored. 

And prayer slie deemed with each repast 
Must rise above the board. 

And wonderingly she sat, and sad, 
Uiitasted all the bounty given, — 

The master did not pause to thank 
The Giver up in heaven. 



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"out op the mooth of babes." 



Then sorrowful to him she turned, 

And softly lisped, " Pease, sir, pease pay." 

Unnoticed or unknown it passed, — 
That sweet request to pray. 

And BO she bowed lier head, and laid 
Her folded hands with reverent care, 

And in her baby accents said 
Her little evening prayer. 

The guests were silent: she who spoke 

In pure simpUcity had prayed; 
An ag^d voice the silence broke, 

As reverently it said, — 

" Out of the mouth of babes, Lord, 

And sucklings" (wondrous are the ways 
And wise the counsels of his word) 

" Thou hast perfected praise ! " 



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HOME STORIES 




MT VISIT TO THE DOGS OP ST. BERNARD; OR, KIND- 
NESS BRINGS KINDNESS. 



We may often learn from the brutes that surround x 
of kindness, as well as of wisdom. 

When I was a very little girl, not more than six or seven 
years old perhaps, I received as a birthday present two vol- 
umes prettily bound in red morocco. I had often admired 



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MY VISIT TO THE DOGS OF ST. BEKNARU. 53 

them long before they were mme ; for, each time that I 
entered my father's study, I could see them on the shelf, 
where amongst many others for which I did not care a bit, 
they seemed to wink out their brilliant and attractive color to 
me. How perfectly happy I was on a lovely spring mom, 
when these same coveted treasures were given to me ! Yes, 
they were mine, I had a right to take them, aud open them, 
and even hide them away in my little room, if I chose. For 
my name was written on the fly-leaf, and no one could dispos- 
sess me of them. But, what was the story which those pretty 
red books told ? It was not one only, but a great man}', and 
each one of them was about dogs ; — not ill-tempered, ugly, or 
cross dogs, of course, but inteUigent, well-behaved, and kind 
dogs. These stories were intended to show how even animals 
can be taught to understand obedience, to feel gratitude, and 
to return kindness; and no child could read them without 
making the resolution never to be guilty of the least cruelty, 
or even the least neglect toward the brave creatures who so 
often display traits of touching heroism. 

I once went to the top of Mount St. Bernard, that lofty pass 
of the Alps which is occupied by a hospital, celebrated for the 
kindness of its monks, and of its noble dogs, toward poor 
travelers who- have fallen beneath the terrible snow-storms 
which sweep through those desolate solitudes. And there I 
saw a great many of the famous St. Bernard dogs. They 



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HOME STOHIES. 



originally came from Spain ; and yet, now, they would perish 
if they were carried to a warm climate, for they love snow. 
These St. Bernard dogs are a brave, courageous race, which 
God seems to have created to be the friend as well as the com- 
panion of man in those dangerous places. No one can look at 
them without a feeling of great interestj for they share, — con- 
sciously, one would think, — the constant perils in which, 
to save the lives of others, the good monks often risk their 
own. Some travelers have tried to buy these dogs, but no 
money could purchase them. One of the monks told me that 
an Englishman had offered a large smn of money for a fine 
St Bernard dog, but he replied to him that the French 
soldiers had been before him, and were soon made to know 
that the monks and their dogs could not part. Without 
them, the generous and Christian charity of these monks 
would be useless, as it is the dogs, which, obeying their 
mysterious instinct, go into the mountains and search the deep 
snow-drifts, where a man, woman, or child, may be buried 
alive. 

The St. Bernard dogs are taken care of with a sort of 
respectful tenderness, and I felt proud myself to stroke the 
head of the oldest one, called Barry, in honor of one of his 
ancestors, who immortalized himself in saving the Hves of 
fifteen persons. Barry the first is now " stuffed," and can he 
seen in the museum at Berne. Around his neck is a little 



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MY VISIT TO THE DOGS OF ST. BERNARD. 55 

board on "whicli is written a memoir of liis services to human- 
ity. Wliat a noble monument to old Barry. "While I was at 
the Hospice, two of the monks, accompanied by four dogs, 
started off on their daily errand of mercy. It was affecting to 
see what a human-like interest and eagerness the dogs appar- 
ently took in their duty ; and, as I watched them go out in 
the dismal, dreary cold of the Alpine snows and the approach- 
ing night, I asked myself, " Could I go so cheerfully and so 
readily out of my way to do good ? " This was an instance 
where dogs were my teachers, and I was very glad to learn 
from them. 

These earlier incidents of my hfe have been recalled by a 
circumstance which took place a few days ago. A little girl 
of my acquaintance went with her brother on a visit to 
Raymond, N. H. When she returned home, the first thing 
she told her mother was, how happy she had been in making 
the acquaintance of Slago, an old brave family-dog, which had 
been so very kind to her. The mother asked her what had 
made the old dog so kind? And the little girl simply answered, 
*'0h! it was because I was kind to him myself. I spoke 
gently to him, and patted him, and so he loved me very 
much." 

And thus it ever is ; if we are kind, either to a dog, or 
to one of our species. Mildness mil came back in rettim. If the 
monks of St. Bernard were rough and cruel to the noble ani- 



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56 



HOME 8T0 HIES. 



mals which share their exile, they would soon run away into ' 
other and wilder regions of the Alps, and be of no use to 
any one. 

If you shout in a scolding tone of voice before an echoing 
cliff, the echo will be sure to come back scolding also ; but 
speak gently and kindly, and the echo will be gentle and kind. 



THE MISSIONARY FAMILY. 

I SHOULD like to take you with me in fancy, dear children, on 
a long voyage. Far away in the Southern Ocean, where the 
ray.s of the sun fall slantingly and feebly, and fragments of 
icebergs float like little white boats almost always on the dark 
waters, we should find the rocky coasts and rugged hills of the 
island I want you to visit, — the missionary island of Keppel. 
The little cottage of the missionary, the only house but one on 
the island, stands, on a hill-side, and still lower down toward 
the shore are two small huts and a stable. A dreary and deso- 
■ late place, you think, for which you woidd not like to leave 
your happy homes and gardens, your pleasant Sunday-schools, 
and your playmates. 

The missionary family have none of these enjoymenta 
Their nearest neighbors live on the gray land you can just see. 



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THE MiaSIONARY FAMILY. 57 

far to the south, — the Falldand Islands, where their father 
goes, once in a great while, to bring flour and provisions home. 
It is sumraer with them now, but you shiver at the chill wind, 
and wonder how they can bear it when their winter comes, 
with its cold, stormy winds, its short, dark days and long nights 
of frost. There are no trees on the island, only low shrubs 
and coarse grass, on which the cows are feeding, and thorny 
vines on which the large blackberries are ripening. 

See ! the house door is thrown open, and the missionaries' 
daughters have come out to gather the fruit. The two 
younger run on first, as fuU of life and enjoyment on their 
lonely island as any little girl at vacation ; then follow the 
two elder ones with their fair, rosy, English faces, carrying the 
basket between them. But there is some other person coming 
up from one of the huts to go with them. She is a little dark- 
skinned woman, with black hair, which her husband has just 
braided neatly for her, and who seems rather imcomfortable in 
her new dress, for she is one of the natives from the Tierra del 
Fuego, to whom the missionary has been sent to teach them 
the glad tidings of a Saviour. 

The younger girls are soon busy among the bushes with the 
native woman, whose name is too long and difficult for onr lips 
to pronounce, and one of them stops now and then to drop a 
blackberry into the mouth of the little child of the native, 
who responds with " Cuttarcutta," meaning " Thank you," or. 



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58 



HOME STORIES 



pulling at her dress, cries " Tamer, yamer," " Give me." The 
older girls are still on the hill, looking far over the sea toward 
the west, in the hope of seeing their father's ship, the " Allen 
Gardiner," with her white flag, bringing him home in safety 
from the Tierra del Fuego, where he has gone to bring back 
some more natives to be taught at the station. Well may 
they be anxious for him. But a few months ago, when he had 
been detained at home, the ship had been seized by the treach- 
erous natives, and all but one man in her murdered. Still, the 
missionary perseveres in his work, thinking that the more 
wicked, cruel, and ungrateful the natives are, the more they 
need to hear of a holy God and a forgiving Saviour. 

But the sun is setting, and the baskets are filled, and after 
gathering a handful of a delicate, sweet^cented, little white 
flower, to ornament their sitting-room, the girls nm down to 
the wharf to meet their Uttle brother. He has been fishing in 
a boat, with a native and an English lad who came out with 
them, and has an amusing account to give, of the brown hairy 
seals they have seen on a piece of ice, watching them with 
queer, intelligent faces. So they turn toward their home, 
where they share the duties and lighten the labors of their 
mother, for they can obtain no help there. 

You would scarcely think, if you saw them working with 
active and skillful hands in the house, that not very many 
years ago I used to see them led by their nnrses, through the 



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THE MISSIONARY FAMILY. 59 

wide hall of their English home, with its colored windows, into 
their father's drawing-room, that he might introduce the shy, 
fair little creatures, in their fresh white dresses, to his guests. 

Do you wonder why their father brought them from that 
dear home, with its lovely garden and all its comforts, to live a 
life of labor on this lonely island ? It was because he loved 
his God and Saviour, and when he heard that in the desolate 
land of Tierra del Fuego there were five thousand savages, 
who had never heard of God or heaven, who lived in ignorance 
and \viekedness, killing and even eating each other, and dying 
without any knowledge of a life to come, he felt it his duty to 
leave his happy and comfortable home, and try to teach them 
of Jesus, and his love to sinners. And now, dear children, 
when you pray to the Saviour you have early learned to love, 
will you not remember to ask him to help and protect that mis- 
sionary tin some of these poor savages have learned to obey 
and love our Lord Jesus Christ ? 



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HOME STORIES, 




NOT ALL FOE ONE. 



A PEACOCK was strutting proudly round the domains of his 
o^vner, with his tail wide spread, when he espied a poor black 
raven on the dead limb of a tree. " Hoot, there ! Be off, vou 
shabby fellow ! " he cried. " I'm the king over all winged gen- 
tlemen about here, and " — flapping his wings and mounting a 
huge stone gate-post — "this is ray throne. I'll have no such 
mean gentry as you about." 

" Caw, caw, caw ! " cried the raven. " I think mine is a hard 
lot indeed ; and I wonder what I was made for ! Probably to 
afford fim for such grand birds as you ! To be scorned and 
ordered from one tree to another ! If I only had a voice like 



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SOTALLFOEONE. 61 

yonder nightingale, who is sleeping to make up for the time 
she lost in serenading last night, wh}', it would atone for my 
rusty coat and croaking voice ! But, alas, I'm a poor, despised 
creature, and had better be out of the world than in it, unless 
I had a better fate !" 

"Ah, sir," screeched the peacock, "you have one charm, 
which, as you do not seem to value or even to claim it, must 
belong to me, — those fine red boots on your legs ! I've not the 
least doubt but they were made for me, to match my magnifi- 
cent plumes ; so off with them ! Take these poor rusty ones I 
have on, and don't let me catch you thieving from gentlemen 
again, or I'll order you shot as a cherry-thief or a hen-robber!" 

" Alas, alas, what a fate is mine ! " croaked again the raven. 
"Will he tear the red boots, my only charm, from off my 
legs ? " " Indeed I wUl, and the voice from out the throat of 
that Lady in the nest, too ! I am very sure that he who gave 
me these splendid plumes never intended that I should go 
about without a voice and a pair of boots to correspond with 
them ! You and the nightingale are nobody now ; and you 
could not be less if you yield me my rights." And with this 
fine speech the gentleman turned himself round and round, 
that the sun might glisten among his feathers while he waited 
for Ids boots, as he called them. 

" Caw, caw, caw ! " croaked the raven. " What is to become 
of me ? I'll be stripped of my one only charm if I stay, and 



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HOME STORIES 



I'll be shot for a tHef if I attempt to fly ! I wish I'd never 
been batched ! " 

Now, during all this conversation, a poor dull toad had been 
in the garden-beds near by, picking up his breakfast of bugs 
and worms. He was amazed at the scornful pride of the 
peacock, as well as at the miserable discontent of the raven. 
He knew that he was one of the humblest creatures the Lord 
of the garden ever made; but he resolved to rebuke his 
superiors for this spirit of rebellion. " Look at me, friends," 
he whispered, in a voice scarcely audible ; " what have I to 
boast of? I am the meanest creature that ever came from 
the great Father's band, so men say. I have no gay plumes 
nor red boots to delight the eye, no voice to charm the 
ear. My eyes are dull and swollen, my whole form is loath- 
some ; so that delicate ladies and little children run from my 
presence and shriek if I hop — for I can not even walk — 
toward them. And yet the good Lord has not overlooked 
even me ; to me he has given life, with the power of enjoy- 
ing his air and his sunshine. For this I wiU bless him, rather 
than call in question his wisdom in forming me the unlovely 
thing that I am. I know not for what I am placed here, 
nor yet do the men who spurn me know; but it is very 
certain that the AU-wise has made nothing in vain. Doubt- 
less I have a comer to fill, a work to do which wonld suit 
no other. Therefore will I thank my Maker for the sweet 



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CHAELIE RAY S TR0CBLE8. 63 

boon of life, and bow quietly to his will. Learn of me each 
to be content with his own mercies, — the peacock with his 
plumes, the raven with his boots, and I who have nothing 
else, with l^e; — remembering that he who doeth all things well 
gives not unto any one of hia creatures all his good things ; 
but divides them according to his wisdom." And with one 
leap the poor, humble teacher escaped from their sight and 
hid himself under the broad leaves of the waving com. 



CHAELIE RAY'S TROUBLES. 

"It is so very, very hard to be good," said Charlie Ray, 
mournfully, holding his hot cheeks in his little fat, dimpled 
hands. 

" Yes ; it is very hard indeed," said his mother, in a sympar 
thizing tone ; " I think I should get discouraged myself if God 
had not promised to help me when I ask him." 

" But God is so far of" said CharUe, though in a tone less 
sad ; and now he rested those feverish cheeks in his mother's 
hands. 

*' Yes, so far off that he is present in the most distant star of 
night, but so near, so very near, Charlie, that he is by your side 
to know your most secret thoughts." 



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HOME STOKIES. 



" But it can not be so hard for grown-up people to do right, 
— why can not I wait till I am older?" 

" Why, Charhe ! " interrupted Mrs. Ray ; " you forgot to 
change your shoes." 

Charlie hung his head. *' Why, you see, mother, I have got 
so much into the habit of not changing them that I forgot, 
though I do try to remember." 

" From this, then, you see why it is very important for you 
to get into the habit of doing right when you arc a little boy, 
or it will be very hard for you to begin to do right when you 
are a man." 

" I never thought of that," said Charlie, eagerly ; " so it may 
be harder for a man to do right than for me ! " 

"Yes, but remember if you get into the habit of doing 
right now, it will be easier for you to do right when yo\i are 
a man." 

" So it will," exclaimed Charlie, with delight, "and I will try." 

" But, besides this, you must not think you will have less 
temptations when you are older. You do little things to help 
me now, because you are a little boy ; when you are larger 
and do more, your work will not seem harder to you than it 
does now, for you will have more strength to do it. So, now, 
it seems to you that you have great temptations and little 
strength to meet them ; when you are older, you will have 
greater temptations and greater strength to meet them." 



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CHAELIE RAY 8 TKOUBLES. 65 

" But, mother," and Charlie hesitated, " it does not seem as 
if God knew just how very hard it is for such a Httle boy to 
do just right" 

" Who is Jesus Christ ? " 

« God the Son." 

" And Jesus Christ was once a httle boy in Nazareth, and 
knew all a little boy's troubles. He knew what it was to have 
his playmates sometimes ill-natured and selfish, and therefore 
just how hard you find it always to be kind and generous. 
Think, then, when you are troubled and tempted, that we are 
told, — 'He was tempted in all points like as we are,' that he 
might help us when tempted; and that he knows just how 
hard a httle boy like you finds it to do right. Ask for help 
for the sake of the holy child Jesus." 

" And I too can think," said Charlie's brother Henry, " that 
he was once a young man in Galilee. You, dear mother, 
good and kind as you are, can not know all a young man's 
trials and temptations, but Jesus Christ does. Thank you for 
this thought. Oh, how it will strengthen me to think of Jesus 
Christ not only as the Wonderful, the Counselor, the Son of 
God, but as the young man who was pure and holy, not only 
in his country life among the hills of Galhee, but amid the 
stronger enticements of the great city. Thank God not only 
that he died for men, but that he lived among them. Thank 
God for his boyhood and youth, as well a^ busy manhood." 



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WORKINa FOR IMMORTALITY. 



One of the old masters in sculpture was noted for the 
length of time he always spent upon his works. So fine was 
his eye for the beautiful, that it seemed he would never be 
satisfied till the form before him should move and breathe. 



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WORKING FOR IMMORTALITY. 67 

At one time he was longer than usual over a cetain subject 
in which he was all absorbed. The gray dawn found him 
before the marble, and the shadows of twilight fell upon him 
still there, with chisel in hand. Again and again it was pro- 
nounced finished ; but still he saw a touch wanting here and 
a line there, and went to work with all the devotion of the 
artist to a fresh subject. Thus did he renew his toil through 
many a day, and far into the small hours of night. A friend, 
to whose less practiced eye the work seemed already perfect, 
ventured to expostulate with him on what appeared to be a 
waste of time. " Why," he asked, " do you spend so much 
time and labor upon that one statue?" "Because," replied 
the sculptor, " I am working for immorta^y" 

All we, in a higher sense than this, are working for immor- 
tality. We are forming characters for eternity. Every word, 
every thought, every action, makes a line or a touch far more 
enduring than that of the chisel upon the sculptor's marble. 
Nor is it upon our own hearts only that the influence of 
oixr work is seen. If some touch of ours has left a line. of 
beauty upon another, it shall live there for ever; if we have 
marred the form we should have graced, the blemish shall also 
live and reflect its unseemliness upon us again. Whether we 
would have it thus or not, so it is ; all our work is for immor- 
tality. The material upon which character is wrought is more 
abiding than granite. It will survive when earth itself, and all 



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it contains, shall have passed away. Oh, how important that 
we take for our model Jesus, — the holy, the pure, the beauti- 
ful ; and that we touch and retouch our work until we see in 
ourselves his blessed likeness ! Let us also aim to reproduce 
his features on all around ; then shall our labors shine forth 
glorious iu their immortality. Well will it be for us, when we 
meet the products of life' and labor in eternity, if there be 
none upon whom, by our example or direct influence, we 
have wrought a dark line or an unsightly shade. If God 
has kept us so. that no dear buried heart bears the impress of 
our neglect or unkindness, let us pray that all our work in 
the future may be done in love; so that we may rejoice to 
know that it is done for immortality. 



ANNIE'S DISOBEDIENCE. 

One pleasant Saturday afternoon, Annie Stone received her 
mother's permission to visit a young friend, and stay to tea. 
She was not often permitted this indulgence, and now she was 
highly delighted. Her anticipations of happiness were so 
great, that it was rather difficult to wait patiently for her play- 
mate Mary Ann, who was to accompany her. At last she 
came, and as they were going, Mrs. Stone said, '* Annie, you 



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ANNIES DISOBEDIENCE. 



know that Angeline lives very near the river. Remember 
that you must not go to the water, or get into a boat, because, 
if you should, you might get hurt, or perhaps drowned." 
Annie promised to obey, and with light hearts and nimble feet 
the little girls were soon out of sight 

Their half-mile walk led them through the pleasant village, 
along the hank of the river, and their attention was constantly 
occupied with something new and interesting. When they 
arrived at their young friend's house, they found two other 
little girls, who made a pleasant addition to the party, and all 
played happily together. 

After an early tea, Harriet Bailey, one of the girls, said, 
''Come, let us go down to the vessel. My father is going 
to sea in it, and I visit it every day." But Annie said, " Oh, 
no. My mother told me not to go to the water because I 
might get drowned." 

" No, you won't," replied Harriet. " I know just where to 
go." Annie hesitated, but finally, rather than remain alone, 
she allowed herself to be persuaded, and followed on after them. 

The vessel did not lie close by the wharf, and, for the con- 
venience of those who had business on board, a plank had 
been laid across. When Annie looked down into the deep, 
dark water she was afraid, and shrunk back ; the others had 
no fears, and they took hold of her hand and led her safely 
" over. The men who were about the vessel had finished their 



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HOME STORIES 



work for the day and gone home. There being none to 
restrain them, the young -visitors ran about, looking at every 
thing, and peeping into every strange place. Annie did not 
feel quite as happy as the others. She could not forget her 
mother's command, and knew that she was doing wrong. 

Dear children, think of the kind parents God has given you. 
They love you, and require only what will make you 
happy. It may not always seem so to you, but they know 
better than you do. Avoid the first wish to do wrong ; this is 
sin, and will lead you on step by step to ruin. Imitate Jesus. 
He was always obedient to his father and mother, though he 
was Immanuel. Do this, and it will make you happy. 

Night was fast approaching, yet the little girls were so much 
occupied that they did not notice it. " There was a great hole 
here in my father's vessel," said Annie, " where they put down 
barrels." " Oh, no," said they, " there is none here ; " but 
Annie was right ; the hatchway was now open, and many loads 
of stones had that day been thrown into the hold for ballasi 
In the darkness, the children did not see it, and suddenly 
Annie plunged headlong down — down — struck on the stones, 
and became insensible. Wlien consciousness returned, she 
heard Mary Ann calling her, and foimd that she, too, had fallen. 
" Are we in the river ? " said Annie, for her face and hands 
were wet " No, " replied her companion, " we are down in the 
bottom of the vessel." Annie cried, and said they never • 



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ANNIE'S DISOBEDIENCE. 71 

should get out. How sadly she felt when she remembered 
that disobedience to her mother had brought this suffering 
upon her. Mary Ann was not much hurt, and by getting up on 
the pile of stones she could see a little light from above. After 
what seemed a very long time to the poor children, they heard 
a strange voice calling, " Children, where are you ? " and a man 
with a lantern in his hand looked down from the deck. It 
was Harriet's father, who, having heard of the accident, had 
come to the vessel, and was greatly relieved to find the httle 
girls alive. 

After Annie was rescued, she was found- to be covered with 
blood which flowed from a deep cut on her head, and soon 
became insensible again. Assistance was obtained, and she 
was immediately carried home. It would be difficult to 
describe the alarm of Mrs. Stoue when the door opened, and 
two men entered bringing Annie in their arms, pale and 
covered with blood. The physician came, carefully examined 
the wound, and dressed it. Though she was suffering much 
pain, Annie bore it patiently ; she felt that she deser\'ed it, 
and that God had punished her for disobeying her kind 
mother. 

Dear children, is not this story of disobedience a sad one ? 
Annie never forgot the lesson. She is now herself a mother, 
and often, when wishing to impress the duty of obedience 
upon her children, she relates this event in her history, and 



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72 


HOME STORIES. 




shows 


the long white scar on her head, which time 


can 


never 


efface. Little friends, when you wish to do what 


your 


parent 


5 have forhidden, remember that disobedience 


will 


sooner 


or later be punished. Look to Jesus for help to do 11 


what is right. Say, — 






"Heavenly Shepherd, please to watch us, 






Gfuard ns both by night and day; 






Pity show to little children. 






Who like lambs too often stray. 






' "We are always prone to wander; 






Please to keep ns from each snare; ' 






Teach our infant hearts to praise thee 






For thy kindness and thy care." 






THE LITTLE SOLDIEE.. 






"Oh, would I were a soldier," 






Cried little Bertie Lee; 






"K I were only older, 






How very brave I'd be; 






I'd fear not any danger, 






I'd flee not from the foe, 






But where the strife was fiercest, 






There Td be sure to go. 





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THE. LITTLE SOLDIEE. 

"I'd be the boldest picket, 

Nor fear the darkest night; 
Could I but see a rebel, 

How bravely I would fight; 
I'd nobly do ray duty, 

And soon promoted be — 
Oh, would I were a soldier," 

Sighed little Bertie Lee, 



" But when I'm grown to manljood, 

This war wiU all be o'er, 
I can not join this struggle. 

Our dear flag to restore, 
I may not bleed for freedom, 

That glory's not for me ; 
My name will not be written, 

2Ke hero, Herbert Lee.'''' 



Then answered Bertie's mother, 

In tender, loving tone, 
" My darling little Bertie, 

Tou need not thus bemoan. 
A nobler strife awfuts you, 

'Tis even now begun, 
And you may gain the victory, 

If brave and true, my son. 



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HOME STORIES 



"Tou are a little soldier, — 

A picket guard, my boy, 
To ward oEf every evil 

That may your soul annoy. 
No earthly foe need vex you, 

No midnight sounds alarm, — 
With Jesus for your leader, 

What could my darling harm? 



"The noblest of all soldiers 

My little son may be, 
His name in heaven recorded. 

The hero, Herbert Lee. 
That were far higher glory 

Tlian any earthly fame ; 
God grant the list 'Promoted' 

May bear my Bertie's name." 




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THE ONLY NEW THING I VE GOT. 75 

"THE ONLY NEW THING I'VE GOT." 

Little Henry, a boy of five years oldj loved to sit beside his 
mother and watch the progress of a pretty pair of scarlet 
mittens. To his oftrrepeated inquiry, " Whom are they for ? " 
she replied, " A good little boy." After they were finished, she 
laid them away, satisfying his eager solicitations by telling him, 
if Henry proves " a good little boy," he will find them hanging 
upon the family Christmas-tree with his name interwoven in 
the wrist. 

In the mean time, a contribution for a Home Missionary's 
family was being made. Henry's mother, upon her return 
from the ladies' meeting, informed her little son what they 
were engaged in. After giving him some information respect- 
ing the missionary's children, she said, "Well, Henry, what will 
you give for some one of these children ? " After thinking a 
few moments, he replied, " I'll send my nm rmitens to that little 
boy of the missionary so near my age." His mother said, 
"And go withont all winter? Perhaps mamma will not get 
time to knit any more, although she would be so glad to do 
80." His little chin quivered, and his eyes filled with tears. 

He hesitated a moment, and then said, " Yes, if mamma will 
sew up my old ones." Upon being assured that his old ones 
should be mended, his countenance lighted up again. Upon 
the entrance of his sister, he made known to her his intention. 



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76 



HOME STOEIES. 



" What ! send your new mittens ! and not have any on the 
Christmas-tree ! " His head dropped again ; he made no reply. 
But his mother answered ; " Let him do just as he has a mind 
to." Soon after, his father and a favorite sister entered. His 
mother said in a clieerful tone, " Papa, Henry has concluded to 
send his new mittens to the missionary's little boy." His sister, 
surprised, unconsciously said, " Why, no, Henry ; I would not 
send my little mittens ; I would send something else ! " He 
stood a moment, with downcast look, evidently in a deep 
struggle of mind, when suddenly he looked up to his mother, 
and, with a sorrowful and tremulous tone, said, " Then I can't 
send any -thing, for my httle mittens are the only Tiew thing 
I've got!" 




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VlIO TAUGHT THEM. 




WHO TAUGHT THEM? 

The Bible never attempts to prove the existence of God. It 
taliies that for granted. In the very first verse, instead of 
formally declaring "There is a God," it says, " God created the 
heaven and the earth." 

But, dear children, there are some, even in this land of 



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HOME STORIES. 



Bibles, this land in which God has so wonderfully shown his 
handiwork, breathing a benediction of beauty on every tree 
and shrub and flower that rejoices in the glad sunlight, who 
say they do not believe there is any God, and many more who 
act as if they did not believe it- 
Let me tell 3^ou of one such person, in the words (as nearly 
as I can) of the Sabbath-school superintendent from whom I 
first heard the story. 

" A short, time since, a gentleman, conversing of his recent 
visit to South America, spoke of an interview with a young 
man, whom he had formerly known in New York. 

This young man, like many others, having had more money 
than good counsel left him by his parents, soon became very 
self-sufficient To show his independence, he began by break- 
ing the Sabbath ; and as one step in the downward road always 
leads to the second, he went on from one vice to another till 
he reached open infidelity, and remained thus when he left 
New York for South America. 

But when this gentleman met him, the avowed infidel had 
become the humble believer in Jesus Christ, and the tongue 
that was wont to blaspheme was lifting the voice of suppUea- 
tion for the blessing of God upon his guilty soul. 

Greatly surprised at seeing the young man "clothed and in 
his right mind," the gentleman inquired what had wrought the 
change. 



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WHO TADGHT THEM. 79 

Said he, " You know I spent much of my time in fishing and 
hunting, and a few weeks since, on a beautiful Sabbath morn- 
ing, I went in search of game. Being weary of roaming about 
the woods, I sat down on a log to rest. While thus seated, my 
attention was attracted to a neighboring tree, by the cries of a 
bird which was fluttering over her nest, uttering shrieks of 
anguish as if a viper were destroying her young. 

'■ On looking about, I soon found the object of her dread, a 
venomous snake, crawling slowly toward the tree, his eye 
intent on the bird and her nest. Presently I saw the male 
bird coming from a distance with a little twig covered with 
leaves in his mouth. Instantly the mother-bird dropped upon 
her nest, and the male bird laid the twig over his mate and 
her young, and then perched himself on one of the topmost 
branches of the tree, awaiting the arrival of the enemy. 

" By this time the snake had reached the spot. Coihng him- 
self around the trunk, he ascended the tree and at length, glid- 
ing along the branch tiU he came near the neat, he lifted his 
head as if to take his victims by surprise. He looked at the 
nest, then suddenly drew back his head as if he had been shot, 
and hurriedly made his .way down the tree as best he might. 

" I had the curiosity to see what had turned him from his 
malicious purpose; and on ascending the tree, I found the twig 
to have been broken from a poisonous bush which that snake 
was never known to approach. 



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HOME STOBIBS. 



"Instantly the thought rushed across my mind, 'Who taught 
that bird its only weapon of defense in this hour of peril?' and 
quick as the thought came the answer ' None but God Almighty, 
whose very existence I have denied, but in whose pardoning 
mercy, through Jesus Christ, I am now permitted to hope.' " 

'■ Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing ? and one of them 
shall not fall" to the ground without your Father. Fear not, 
therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows." 

Oh, then, dear children, when the Evil One comes to that 
hallowed spot, your own quiet home, to devoiu" your souls by 
scattering the seeds of discord and strife among your happy 
circle, pray to him who heareth the yoxmg ravens when they 
cry, that some kind messenger from yonder spirit land may be 
commissioned to bring you protection from the destroyer, that 
so you may " dwell in the secret place of the Most High, and 
abide under the shadow of the Almighty." 



THE GOOD FIGHT OF FAITH. 

" Mamma, how do they fight the good fight of faith ? " asked 
NelUe. 

" Can either of these boys answer Nellie's question ? " asked 
her mother, addressing Allen and Freddy, who were present. 
Allen who was in raptures over a new bow and arrow which 



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THE GOOD FIQHT OP FAITH. 81 

his grandfather had given him, thought that was the weapon 
used. Freddy was quite sure it was fought with swords Hke 
Captain B.'s, which flashed and glittered in the sun, and he 
thought he should like to fight the good fight of faith if his 
father would buy him such a sword. 

Nellie had remained quite silent during the expression of 
these opinions, apparently deep in thought. Suddenly a bright 
idea entered her mind, and she exclaimed, "I know now, 
mamma; they fight the good fight of faith with pistols, -because 
you know we read of Paul's pistols." Mamma explained to 
Nellie that what she had thought pistols were epistles, or letters 
written to the several churches, though she was quite wilfing to 
admit that these same epistles had fired many a shot which had 
wounded the King's enemies, and brought them on their knees 
to acknowledge his rightful authority. "You have not yet 
told me against what enemies these weapons are used," said 

Mrs. D , anxious to draw out the opinions of her children, 

that she might adapt her instructions accordingly, 
" I think," said Freddy, " that it is the Secessionists." 
Nellie could not think who they could be ; apparently she 
had exhausted her mental powers when she conceived the 

brilliant idea of the pistols. Mrs. D explained that most 

of the battles in the good fight of faith were fought not with 
Secessionists, but with the sins in our own hearts, and that the 
weapon used was God's truth, the sword of the Spirit. She 



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82 HOM.E STORIES. 

proposed to the children that they should begin immediately 
to fight against these sins; and, lest they should be discouraged, 
she recommended that they take only one at a time. 

" What shall I commence with ? " said Nellie. 

"I think," said Mrs. D , "that you should commence with 

indolence." Nellie hung her head in shame, for she was now 
eight years old, and could not read without spelling half her 
words, because she had been too idle to study. 

"How shall I begin?" said Freddy. 

" You must watch against untruthfulness," said Mrs. D . 

" I have observed that you will sometimes screen yourself from 
blame by telling what is not true." 

" Mamma, I do not think I have any sins to fight against," 
said Allen, " for I do not tell wrong stories and I am not indo- 
lent." Mamma was not long in convincing Allen that this 
extremely good opinion of himself was entirely erroneous; 
and she pointed out to him that fretfulness was his besetting 
sin, and one that was extremely annoying to others. Perhaps 
I will tell you at some future day how these little soldiers suc- 
ceeded in fighting the good fight of faith. 



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GRETA AND THE FLOWERS. 



GEETA AND THE FLOWERS. 

Little Greta, pale and weary, 

Faintetb in the city air; 
Longing for the breezy country — 

Her fond mother bears her there. 

Never had the eyes of Greta 
Watched a bud from day to day, 

With its perfumed leaves unfolding, 
Li God's own mysterious way. 

So, although the snow-white ox-eye 
Long had bedded 'mid the grain, 

Seeking late and seeking early, 
Greta sought a flower in vain ; 



Till the little maiden, waking 

Once in light of early day, 
Gazing on the pleasant meadow, 

And the pastures far away, 

Sees the rows of snowy ox-eyes 
Waving in the morning air ; — 

(Never had tlie child in visions 
Dreamed or thought of aught so fair ; — ) 



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HOME STOaiES. 

Cries she now with joyous laugbt 
" Mother, rise and look about ; 

Early have the busy fairies 

Hung their tiny washing out." 



THE LITTLE FACE IN NOUTON ALLET. 

" Come, my dear, put your book away and take a ■walk with 
me," said Mrs. Cooper to her little daughter one October day, 
when October was beautifuUy glorious with color and^ sunshine. 

" Where are you going, mamma ? " 

" To Norton Alley." 

" It's a mean place, mother." 

" No, it is only a poor place, and I wish you to go." 

"What for?" 

" I am going in search of little boys or girls for the Sunday 
school" 

" Oh, I don't wish to go ; I am reading the nicest little book 
that ever was written." 

" Well, your book will wait until you come back. I wish to 
show you an unwritten book." 

" What is an unwritten book ? " 

" Come, and I wiU show you." 



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THE LITTLE FACE IN NOETOH ALLEY. 85 

"There ! I told you it was mean," said Alice, as soon as they 
came within the alley; "just look at those children, — they 
are ragged and dirty, and look as if they liked it" 

" So would you be if you had had no one to teach you that 
it is better to be tidy and clean." 

" I can't believe it, mother," 

" It is only true ; if you had always lived in this alley and 
played with children Uke these, vou would not know the 
difference." 

Mrs. Cooper called one of the little girls to her. " What is 
your name ? " she asked. 

" Gertrude, that's my name." 

"Have you ever been in Sunday school, Gertrude?" 

"I don't know where 'tis, ma'am; is it like the circus where 
they jumps on the horses that runs ? " asked the child. 

Alice laughed, and Gertrude grew very red arid angry, as 
she said, " Tou needn't to laugh at me ; the circus is the only 
place I knows anything about" 

*My Uttle girl shaU not laugh at you," said Mrs. Cooper, 
" and I will tell you what kind of a place the Sunday school 
is. It is a nice large room, with pictures on the walls, and 
seats in it, where many little boys and girls go every Sunday, 
and are taught how to read a book that tells them what 
they must do in this world if they would go to heaven when 
they die." 



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86 HOME STORIES. 

" Die ! die ! " repeated the child ; " why, that's what Bobby's 
been doing." 

" Where is he ? " 

" Come, and I'll show you ; he looks as if he'd been white- 
washed, and he won't get up a bit; mother's been calling him' 
aU day, and I don't believe a bit as he can hear what she says ; 
come right on, and I'll show him to you." 

"No ! no ! Gertrude," called Mrs. Cooper, "you may tell your 
mother that there is a lady here who would like to come in." 

" Don't go, don't, mother," pleaded AMce ; " it's so dirty and 
mean." 

"This is only one leaf of the book," said her mother; "come 
and look at it" 

Alice drew back, and looked as if she would run away if 
she had the courage. Gertrude came from a house near by, a 
moment later, and said, " Ton may come if you're a mind to, 
'cause she don't take no notice of me, no more nor if I wasn't 
there." 

Gertrude led the way into the house, followed by Mrs. 
Cooper and Alice. 

Over a little form bent the mother, who was sobbing 
piteously, and neither moved nor spoke when Mrs. Cooper 
went in. 

" When did the little boy die ? " asked a sweet voice of the 
bending mother. It aroused her. She lifted herself up and- 



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THE LITTLE FACE IN NOKTOH ALLEY. 87 

turned her tearful eyes upon Mrs. Cooper, only murmuring, 
"He's dead, — he's gone, like all the rest; my last one, — my 
little boy." 

" "When did he go ? " 

" He died in the night" 

" Shall I wash the little face for you ? " asked Mrs. Cooper. 

" Thank you, ma'am ; I suppose it ought to be done." 

« Don't, mother, don't touch it ! " whispered Alice ; " I shall 
be afraid to kiss you to-night if you do." 

" Very well, my dear, you may not kiss me, but you may go 
home as quickly as you can, and tell nurse that there is a little 
boy dead here, and I wish her to come to me with whatever 
she thinks I may need." 

Alice did not wait for a second bidding. She ran out of 
the aUey as swiftly as she could. 

" Look here, what's your name ? " called Gertrude, who had 
followed Alice. 

" My name is Alice. Where are you going ? " 

" With you, to see whereabouts you hve." 

" You had better not," said Alice ; and poor Gertrude turned 
back with a sad face. 

Alice hastened home and reported the case to nurse, who 
made the needful preparations, and, with her hat on, stopped 
to ask, "Are you not going with me? I do not know the 
way." 



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06 HOME STORIES. 

Alice had thought the disagreeable duty done, and had 
opened the "nicest story-book in the world." She closed it, 
and went with nurse. 

Gertrude was sitting on the floor beside the bed, looking 
intently at the face of her Httle brother. 

" Why, mamma, how pretty he is ! " exclaimed Alice, as she 
saw the change her mother had wrought in the face of the 
dead child ; " he looks more as if the angels would take him 
into heaven now," she said. 

'■' Don't they let no folks go into that place if they haven't 
clean faces?" asked Gertrude, — "'cause I'll go out to the 
pump and wash mine quick, if that'll let me in." 

"It is clean hearts, that we must have to go there," said Mrs. 
Cooper, as she lifted the dead darling gently from his mother's 
arms, and prepared to robe him in his last little dress. 

"It's pretty!" said the mother, and she put her hand on the 
dress nurse had bi'ought, and for an instant looked up into Mr& 
Cooper's face. 

" Yes, it was my Willie's dress," she said. 

" Haven't you him now ? " 

" No," said Mrs. Cooper, and a tear-drop found its way to 
Willie's little dress. 

" Why — where ? " and the newly-bereaved mother could 
ask no more. 

"I am glad, I am thankful," said Mrs. Cooper, "Willie has 



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THE LITTLE PACE IN NOBTON ALLEY. 89 

gone to heaven ; we ought always to he happy when they are 
there, you know." 

" Do you think they'd let my Bobby in ? " 

" I know he is safely there." , 

" How can you tell ? " And the mother looked up eagerly ; 
she had forgotten for an iistant the present clay. 

" Because Jesus has promised it." 

"Jesus! Jesus! Is he like God?" 

"He is God's own dear Son," said Mrs. Cooper; "and the soul 
of little Bobby is safe with him in heaven." 

" I wish I'd known, I wish I'd known, so's I could tell him 
when he looked so frightened," said the poor woman, " Look, 
ma'am, Bobby was little, Bobby never did naughty things; 
how shall /ever get where he's gone ? " 

" Why, mother, don't you know ? " said Gertrude ; " the lady 
says we must have clean hearts, but I don't see how we can 
wash them, for they're all covered up tight." 

" We can't wash them ; it is Jesus who washes them with his 
blood, if we ask him," said Mrs. Cooper. 

Gertrude sat still on the floor, looking very much puzzled at 
these new things, and Alice began to think that it was very 
beautiful of her mother to make Bobby look so nice. 

" I will come again in the morning and see you," said Mrs. 
Cooper, as, having made the dead child ready for its burial, she 
kissed the cold face, and bade the mother good-by. 



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HOME STOEIES 



"Mayn't I kiss him too, — he looks like Willie?" asked 
Alice, turning back from the door. The child kissed the white 
forehead, and, touched by her mother's kindness, a little of it 
crept into her own heart. " You may come with me now, and 
I will show you where we Uve," she said to Gertrude, "if your 
mother will let you." 

" We will wait until to-morrow, and then she may come," 
said Mrs. Cooper, " for now I am not going home." 

" Where ? " asked Alice, when they were again in the aUey. 

"You shaU see," said her mother; and Alice saw a Uttle 
coffin bought for Bobby; and the following day she tied a 
wreath of flowers that lay over Bobby's still little heart, and 
then they took him out of Norton Alley, and laid him in the 
pure, fresh earth, until the time when God shall send out his 
angels to gather in his lambs. 




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The cliildren had been pkying one Bummer afternoon in the 
grassy lane that led down to the little cottage where Uncle 
Tim lived. There were Fanny and Mabel and Bessy White 



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ME STORIES. 



and Eunice, the youngest, whom they called "little Tuney," 
and Patsy, a little colored girl, whose mother used to wash and 
iron for Mrs. White. Merry as the butterflies which they 
chased, were these children, — all but Patsy. Not that she was 
not as active as any of the others, but she was not allowed to 
■ join in their plays ; and when she attempted to do so, she was 
repelled in an unkind manner, which brought the tears into 
her eyes, and the big painful sobs into her bosom. 

Uncle Tim had been sitting in the shade near the door of 
his house enjoying the soft warm air of the afternoon, and 
watching the play of the children. He was old and lame, but 
he had a kind heart. Long years before, he had had a Uttle 
pet, — his Minnie, — but the bud did not remain to blossom, 
for God took it to plant in his own garden above. Perhaps he 
had been thinking of her this afternoon, for his eye was moist, 
and his look was very gentle, so that when the merry players 
ran that way, he called them to him, and spoke so pleasantly 
that they came at once where he was sitting. 

"What is the matter," he asked, "with Patsy?" "Oh!" said 
Mabel, " she cried because Bessy White called her names and 
pushed her away." 

" Ah," said he, " I am sorry to aear that ! Why did you do 



" Because she is black, and we don't want such with us." 
"Indeed!" replied Uncle Tun, at the same time calling the 



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P A T S T. 93 

timid little Patsy to his knee, "is tliat aK? I am. sorry that 
you are learning this lesson of unkindness so early. This is not 
obeying what the Saviour says, ' Do unto others as you would 
have them do to you.' " 

Bessy said nothing, but hung down her head, and Uncle Tim 
proceeded : — 

" Suppose that God had made you like Patsy, and somebody 
despised you for it, and called you names, and treated you 
unkindly, would you not feel very much hurt by it ? " 

"You say that Patsy is black; — but she can't help that; 
and it is only the color of the skin after all. Don't you think 
she has a soul within just as you have ? Can she not learn to 
read and spell and sing, and do all such things as well as 
you?" 

" Oh ! " cried little Thiney, pushing her chubby face forward 
from behind Bessy, "Patsy spelled a big word in the school 
yesterday, and Miss ' Jones praised her for it, and gave her a 
Uttle book." 

" Well, that was right," said he, and, dropping his voice to a 
gentler tone, he continued, " Didn't Christ die for her just as he 
did for you ; and if she loves him, won't he take her to his 
beautiful home in heaven and give her a shining crown and a 
snow-white robe and let her live with him for ever ? And 
now will you be unkind to Patsy, and despise her because God 
made her what she is ? " 



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HOME STOEIES. 



Poor Bessy ! — she felt the reproof. Bessy had a kind heart 
and didn't mean to do wrong, but she had seen similar conduct 
in people older than she was, and had learned too early the bad 
example. But' she now resolved that she would be more care- 
ful not to hurt Patsy's feelings again ; and after this, when any 
of her playmates did so, she interposed with Uncle Tim's ques- 
tion, "Didn't Christ die for her, and doesn't he love her just 
the same?" 



LITTLE MATTY; OR, WHAT IS IT TO BE "WORTH HALF 
A MILLION? 

Mattt was a little boy, three or four years of age, whose 
noble and large-hearted father had died leaving him worth a 
great deal of money ; but he Ifeft birn something far better 
than that. Some of my Httle readers will wonder what could 
be better than a great many thousand dollars, with which a 
little boy could buy all the marbles, tops, base-balls, or foot- 
balls, all the kiteSj tops, or candies that he might choose. 

But little Matty had one thing better than all his money, 
and that was a wise and good mother. She taught him about 
a Father in heaven, who was far better, even, than the iather 
whose body they had laid away in the ground. 



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She taught him that if he loved this good and kind Pather, 
and obeyed him, he -would sometime go and live with him for 
ever. She also taught him much more than this; but she 
never told him that he was worth any more money than the 
poorest boy that came to their door for bread. 

At the time of which we speakj Matty began to go to school, 
and to play with boys who had heard of his great wealth, and 
who felt that it was a very fine thing to be worth so much 
money. One afternoon, as Matty returned from school, a great 
change was seen in his manner, and he ordered the servants 
about as he had never done before. 

None of them could tell what had happened, that a little 
hoy, who had always before been so lovely and amiable, should 
so suddenly put on such important airs. 

The secret, however, was soon revealed, for, as Matty met 
with some reproof from his faithful old nurse, with all his 
newly acquired dignity he said, " I am worth half a million." 

Astonished at such words from Matty, she hastened to his 
pious mother with the news of the change which had come 
over her only son. Matty was immediately summoned, and, 
although much of his self-importance vanished as he entered 
the presence of his best earthly friend, yet he still showed 
that some unhappy iofluence was at work upon his little heart. 

"Matty, my son, what is this that I hear of you?" said his 
dear mother. 



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9b HOME STOKIES. 

" I am worth half a million/' replied Matty. 

With a sad and even grieved expression the mother contin- 
ued, "What do you say, Matty?" 

Matty's look was more subdued as he rephed, "The hoys say I 
am worth half a million." 

" Well, Matty, what is it to be worth half a million ? " 

This was something that Matty did not so well understand, 
and his handsome and animated face became suddenly very 
thoughtful. He knew that it was something very important, 
for the words and manner of his play-feUows had plainly 
shown this to be the case, but what it was to be " worth half a 
million " he could not telL 

After a few moments' alent thoughtfulness, Matty, looking 
up into his mother's face, with a sweet and loving expression, 
replied, " Dear mamma, I don't know, unless it is to be a good 
boy, and go to Sabbath schooL" 



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G A N P A T I. 




GANPATI; AN IDOL GOD. 

The children will be pleased to know that this picture is a 
copy of one which was sent to us for them from. Bombay, in 
India. It was accompanied by the following letter, which tells 



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9b home stories. 

about the picture, and also gives some interesting facts about 
India. 

My dear Children : India is a land full of idols. Some of . 
them are very large, and made of stone ; others are small, and 
made of brass, or silver, or gold, and others stiU are printed on 
paper. This morning I sent a little boy out to buy the picture 
of a god, so that you might see what strange things these poor 
ignorant people worship. Just look at that picture ! A man's 
body with four arms and an elephant's head. The Hindoos 
caD it GanpatL 

But do the people reaUy worship such images in India ? 
Certainly they do, every day. Although the images never 
move and never speak, yet the people are afraid of them. 
Generally, they think the image itself is a god, though some 
think there is a god in the image. Parents teach their children 
to believe this, and so all become idolaters. 

Not long ago, a native Christian went into the house of a 
man who was making images like this picture, and when he 
came home, he told me the following story. The idol-maker 
had a little boy five or six years old, who sat watching his 
father and hearing the conversation. While they were talking, 
another man came in, and seeing one idol that was finished, 
he began to worship it. The little' boy laughed, and running 
to him said, — 



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"What are you doing? — that is no god; father made it" 
The father said, — "Hush, child, yes it is a god." 
" But," the boy repUed, " you just now took the clay and 
made it How can it be a god ? " 

Then the father repeated two Unes of poetry, very common 
among the Hindoos : — 

"If you worship it, it's a god: 
If you don't worship it, it's a stone." 
The poor boy could not understand this, and he did not 
believe it, yet without stopping to say more, he ran merrily 
away repeating to himself what the father had just said. 

Poor boy ! He too will probably be an idol-maker, and like 
his father learn to worship the work of his own hands. Can 
we not do something for these poor children? Don't you 
think there woxild be room enough for them in heaven, if they 
should learn to love Jesus ? I am sure there would, and I 
think all th^ angels would rejoice if they should see any of 
these children coming to heaven. 

ELSIE'S BOOKS. 

" "Why, Elsie, what are you doing ? " asked Miss Agnes, her 
governess, coming into the nursery one day after school. 
" Tearing the leaves out of your books ? Why, you mustn't 
do so ! " 



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100 HOME STORIES. 

Why not ? " answered the little girl, pettishly, " they are 
my own to do what I please with ; and I've read this one, and 
read it till I'm sick of it ; so now I'm going to cut out all the 
pictures to paste in my scrap-book. I like that best of any 
thing." 

" Yes, but my dear, it is wrong willfully to destroy any thing 
that may be of use to another. Only think how many poor 
little children there are in the world, who never had a story- 
book in their lives, who would be made happy for weeks, by 
the gift of one of those which you are destroying just for a 
fancy ! " 

" Children that never had a story-book ! " repeated the little 
girl incredulously ; " why, I never heard of such a thing ! All 
the little girls I know have plenty ; they wouldn't take these 
old things of mine if I offered them. I suppose you mean 
little beggars, — but they don't care about reading, do they?" 

"Why, haven't they minds and hearts and souls, as well as 
other children? They would enjoy the treat of a pleasant 
story all the more because they have so few pleasm-es. I think 
if you would sometimes give one of the books you are tired 
of to the poor httle beggars who come for cold victuals, it 
would make them very happy indeed, and perhaps help them 
to be good ; for all your books teach how children should try 
to do right" 

" I never thought about it before," said Elsie, looking down. 



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" And not only little beggars," said Miss Agnes ; " but still 
more the poor children in alms-houses and hospitals and nur- 
series. Only think, Elsie, how many hundreds of children 
there are in such places in this great city ; poor little orphans, 
most of them, whom kind people take care of, providing food 
and clothes, and a roof to shelter them, but not much else. 
You know it takes so much money to buy necessary things for 
so many little friendless creatures, that very little is left to buy 
books or playthings for them. And yet those children would 
enjoy such things just as much as others. How happy it 
would make some of them to have that very pile of nice 
story-books that you have gathered around you to cut up ! " 

" Well, Miss Agnes, and they shall ! " exclaimed the warm- 
hearted child, her face glowing, and her eyes wet at this appeal 
to her sympathy. "If you'll only help me to get them to 
them ! Poor little lonesome boys and girls with nothing to 
play with ! "We'll speak to mamma about it ; but you know 
she lets me do just as I like with my things, I'm so glad you 
told me ! " 

Miss Agnes put her arm around the child, who had sprung 
to her side m her eagerness, and kissed her. 

" Very well, my dear," she said ; " then we wiU look over 
your shelves now ; you have the most extensive library I ever 
saw, for a young lady of niae years ! and we'U put together all 
you ' know by heart,' as you say, and ask your papa to let 



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HOME 8T0BIES. 



John take the parcel to the Home for the Friendless to-mor- 
row. That will be much better than cutting them up, 
won't it?" 

" Oh, yes, Miss Agnes," said Elsie, blushing ; " I'U never do 
such a selfish thing as that again ! and I'll keep my papers too, 
— you know I always cut up my 'Child at Home/ and 
* Reaper,' and all the rest for the pictures. But I will take ' 
care of every thing for the poor children now, — see if I 
don't ! It will be so nice to give them a pleasure ! " 

"And it will give pleasure to some one else," said Miss 
Agnes, gravely. "Who was it, Elsie, who when he was on 
earth was one of the poor himself, who has given us special 
charge to be kind to the poor and needy, and share with them 
the good things his kindness has bestowed on us ? " 

" Jesus," said the little girl, reverently ; " oh, Miss Agnes, I 
have been a very selfish girl, — I didn't think ; but indeed, I 
never will waste my money and every thing so again j I will 
put it by for poor people ; you will help me." 

" Yes," said Miss Agnes, stroking her hair fondly ; " and now 
we win set about our pleasant task." 



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GOING INTO A MINE. 




GOING INTO A MINE. 

This is a picture of coal miners, — men and boys, — going 
to their work. They are lowered, as you see, in a sort of box 
or basket, through that deep hole which leads to the mine, and 
which is called the shaft. When they reach the bottom, they 
will grope their way along, through those underground pas- 
sages, with no light but what comes from the little lamps 



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HOME STORIES. 



wMch they carry, until they reach the galleries where they 
work, and there they will stay, all through the day, returning 
to their homes above-ground at night. 

It is a very dangerous calling. Sometimes the mines are 
suddenly overflowed with water, or there are explosions of 
gases, or the roof of the mine — that is the coal and earth 
above them — gives way, and, falling down, stops all the pas- 
sages, so that the poor miners are buried alive. These acci- 
dents seldom, if ever, happen to the miners of our country, 
and not so often in England as formerly ; but they do some- 
times occur, and many lives are lost. So you see, these miners 
have need every day to commit themselves to the care of Him 
who can as easily see and watch over them, in their deep, dark 
working-places, as he can see us who are out in the light of 
the sun. 

This picture is one of the illustrations of a book entitled, 
''Down in a Mine." It contains a most interesting story of 
a frightful accident which happened to five miners, three of 
whom were boys. The two men who were with them had the 
love of Christ in their hearts, and it is delightful to read how 
that love sustained these men in their dreadful trial, and 
enabled them to comfort their young companions. Truly, 
God is always ready to listen to the cry of those who put 
their trust in him. It also relates a second catastrophe in 
which all the workmen perished. 



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"sow BESIDE ALL WATERS. 105 

"SOW BESIDE ALL WATERS." 

The noonday train for Boston rushed into the station of one 
of our large inland towns, and, exhausted, stood panting for 
breath and lolling its hot, red tongue till water should be 
brought it The passengers were lightly brushing the dust 
from their clothes, taking looks at each other, and wondering 
how long they must wait, when an unusual stir in the depot 
turned all eyes toward an advancing group. In a moment, 
several men stalked into the car, followed by one whose dress 
indicated his position as an army officer. Some of the new- 
comers quietly seated themselves, but the rest, packed three in 
a seat, entertained the company without by their loud jests 
and songs, some of which were more highly appreciated by 
the singers than by most of the passengers in the car. 

The train having finished its lunch of wood and water, was 
ready to move on, which it did, amid the shouts of the by- 
standers, and the performance of the " Eed, White, and Blue," 
by the noisy travelers. 

" "Who are these men ? " was a question more easily asked 
than answered. Being accompanied by an officer, they must 
be on their way to do something in their country's service, 
but the apparent indifference of their farewells left little room 
for the thought that they were going into scenes of danger, 
to fight the battles of law and Hberty. Yet they would make 



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SOME STORIES. 



grand soldiers, so athletic and well-fonned were they. Even 
the things which prevented their being a pleasant addition to 
a quiet car might make them of use in the field of battle. And 
sure enough, to the battles they were going, as was ascertained , 
when the conductor appeared. 

StOl singing, each man, at one time, drew from his pocket a 
huge bit of uncooked, salt cod-fish, from which, after brandish- 
ing it as if it were a bowie-knife, he bit a piece. By this, one 
of their older and quieter companions seemed to be reminded 
that he, too, was not unprovided with " creature comforts," and 
out of his pocket came a little newspaper package, which, 
being opened, was seen to contain tobacco, evidently the part- 
ing gift of some boon companion. 

Now all this, though not very agreeable, could have been 
very easily borne, especially as the men were just volunteer- 
ing their services for their country's defense, had it not been 
for the profaneness of their conversation. The name which 
we are , accustomed to take upon our lips only reverently in 
prayer, or lovingly in conversation, even that of the blessed 
Saviour, was lightly mentioned. This could not be endured. 
Many took refuge in the next car, but that was soon filled. 
The officer, who was a very young man, and had, as yet, no 
real authority over the volunteers, was probably afraid that if 
he reproved them, they would leave him at the next stopping- 
place; or he may have considered it as a matter of course 



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"sow BESIDE ALL WATERS." 107 

that soldiers should swear. Whatever were his thoughts, he 
was silent on the subject. 

The future defenders of the Constitution were in the midst 
of a song, rather a pretty one it was, about " the old red school- 
house," when a child left her place and went and stood by 
them as if listening. Her little head and heart, however, were 
full of something far more interesting to her than any song. 
She looked in each sunburnt, manly, though reckless, face, hesi- 
tated, retreated to her mother, who gave her an encouraging 
smile, returned to the men, stood a moment, then climbing 
on the seat at their backs, hastily thrust a pocket Testament 
into the hands of one of them, and scampered back to her 
mother 

The little creature had been breathlessly watched in fearful 
hope, and now the imspoken prayers which, without doubt, 
had gone up from more than one heart for her success were 
changed to thanksgivings as the young man took the book, 
and after examining it with a pleased smUe, put it carefully in 
his breast-pocket His comrades wanted it. " No, it was given 
to me, and I will always keep it," said ' his face, and probably 
his tongue. 

In a few minutes, the candy-boy passed, and the young man, 
with his little book stUl tightly buttoned under his coat, bought 
a paper of pop-corn, which he took across the car, and gave, 
with a kiss, to the little girl. Then he must have her to sit 



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108 



HOME STORIES. 



by him, not among his companions, but in another seat, where 
they talked together tiU the cars again stopped, and with a 
good-by kiss, the child left him and tripped lightly to the de- 
pot platform, where, with a sunny smile on her pretty face, she 
stood, waving another farewelL 

A wonderful change had indeed passed over the men. Not 
one more oath had the child heard, and only two more profane 
words were uttered during the whole trip. Those men, with 
manly hearts beating under the rough exterior, could no more 
have been boisterous in her presence than could the doctors in 
the temple of old, in the presence of the wondrous boy who 
questioned them. After she passed out, there was a sUence, 
broken at length by songs of a different nature from those 
sung at first ; more patriotic and touching than comic. This 
was before the invention of the blasphemous " Hallelujah cho- 
rus." Had it been popular then, those men would not have 
sung it that afternoon. Though fuU of life and activity, and 
by their droU sayings amusing all about them, they grew less 
excited, and disposed to talk together of the parents and broth- 
ers left behind. 

The httle girl who so early began her missionary work — a 
work which no other person could have done — may never 
know, what others took pains to ascertain, to what regiment 
her Testament has gone, and when she hears of the different 
companies engaged on the field of battle, can only wonder if 



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LITTLE BY LITTLE. 109 

the little book, hidden in the breast-pocket, is laid beneath the 
green turf of Virginia; but God knows where it is. Without 
doubt, the seed which she cast on the deep, muddy waters of 
sin, as the Egyptians scattered their grain on the fields over- 
flowed by the Nile, found a sure lodging-place, and by and by — 
it may not be till the great Harvest — when the angels will be 
the reapers, it shall come again to her. 



LITTLE BY LITTLE. 

One step and then another, 

And the longest walk is ended ; 
One stitch and then another, 

And the largest rent is mended ; 
One brick upon another, 

And the highest wall is made ; 
One flake upon another, 

And the deepest snow is laid. 

So the little coral workers, 

By their slow but constant motion, 
Have built those pretty islands 

In the distant dark blue ocean; 
And the noblest undertakings 

Man's wisdom hath conceived 



Have been patiently achieved. 



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HOJIE STORIES 




THE HYBRID THEE. 

This picture represents a strange and curious product of na- 
ture gromng on the south side of the Ta.unton and Middleboro' 
Railroad, a few miles from Taunton. It is an apple-tree to the 
hight of six or eight feet, and an elm the rest of the way ! 
None can explain how this strange thing was brought about. 
The phenomenon would be the more remarkable if either the 



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THE HYBRID TREE. Ill 

apple portion or the elm portion or both were distinguished for 
quahty or beauty. But in these respects there is certainly not 
much to recommend the singular partnership. The apples are 
not particularly fine, nor is the elm particularly vigorous or 
graceful, and the whole tree looks as if it knew it was a laugh- 
ingstock to its fellows, and protested against the apparent at- 
tempt in its case to contradict the axiom in philosophy that 
two bodies can not be in the same plaee at the same time. 

I have known men who reminded me of this hybrid tree. 
Well trained in boyhood, they began life with a disposition to 
do good for its own sake, and they did indeed bear Jruit For 
a while, their words and deeds were like " apples of gold in pic- 
tures of sUver." But in the mean time there seems to have 
been another nature growing within them, and finally this 
came out in the form of a worldly ambition that proved too 
powerful for their simple Christian usefulness, and they sliot 
up intrusively into pubhc notice, sacrificing all but the relics 
of what they were, to affect a dignity which they could never 
quite reach. Better remain an apple-tree, though a very hum- 
ble one, than undertake to be an apple-tree and an elm-tree in 
one, and finally make a failmre of the whole tree. 



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HOME STOEIES 



THE GREAT CONQUEKOR. 

I SAW a mother, not long since, whose son had enlisted in 
the army. I expected to find her sad and disconsolate, for the 
young soldier was an only son, and was very much beloved at 
home. But to my surprise she was cheerful and happy. 

" Merwin has gone," she said, " and I may never see him 
again ; but I can not make myself unhappy about it. I have 
given him to God, and wherever the Lord's service takes him 
he must go. I know he will distinguish himself, wherever he 
is, for he has already proved himself a great cmiqmror" 

" So yoimg as he is !" I exclaimed ; " how ? " 

"He has coiiquered himself" replied the mother; "and you 
know what the Bible says about that." 

"Oh, yes indeed," said I; "but I thought your Merwin was 
one of those who find it very easy to be good. There is a 
great difference in children. Some are so amiable and gentle 
that when they become Christians you see but little change in 
their outward conduct, and some " — 

" But my son was not one of those," said she, interrupting 
me. " He was bom with a hot, fiery temper. It used to fright- 
en me almost, when he was nothing but a baby, and I hardly 
dared to think what would become of him when he grew 
older. I prayed a great deal about it, and talked and labored 
to help him to overcome his naughty, passionate spirit. And 



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THE GREAT CONQUEBOE. 113 

he began very early ix) try to govern himself. I recollect 
wlieii he was not more than four years oW, he had been very 
much provoked about something, and I could see the fire 
kindling in his eye and the color rising in his cheek. But 
he kept very still untU his anger had subsided, and then 
he came running to me, threw .his arms around my neck, and, 
bursting into tears, he cried, 'Kiss me, mamma, kiss me ; Tve 
overcome.' " 

" That's beautiful ! " I exclaimed. 

"Many a time," the mother continued, "have I seen him 
struggle with his hasty, angry feelings, until by degrees it grew 
easier for him to control his temper, and now I can truly say, 
I believe by the grace of 'God, he has conquered himself And 
among the qualifications for good soldiership that is one of the 
very best, I think." 

I thought so too, as I repeated to myself the words of the 
Bible, to which Merwin B.'s mother bad alluded. You -will 
find them, little reader, in Prov. xvi. 32 : " He that is slow to 
anger is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, 
than he that taketh a city." 

And I felt as if I wanted all the little boys to become con- 
querors in this same sense. No matter if you are not called 
to be soldiers to march at the call of your country to the 
battle-field and fight You may be called of God to conquer 
enemies elsewhere. You may be called to govern and direct 



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114 



others. "WTiatever may be your duty in life, the best prepara- 
tion you can make is' to learn to govern yourself. 

An angry spirit is a terrible enemy. It comes upon you so 
suddenly that it takes you unawares, throws you off your 
guard, and has vanquished you before you have time to 
think. Then if you are on the watch, it is so strong, so furi- 
ous, so unwilling to listen to the voice of reason, that i^ ou 
are not well armed, and if you have not helpers close by, you 
are most likely to be beaten. So, dear boys, it becomes you to 
be on the lookout all the while for it As Jesus said, " Watch 
and pray, lest ye enter into temptation," You must have 
your armor on too, always. Never venture to lay it aside for 
a moment. If you do, you will, I am sure, be overcome. 
And more than all, do not live very far away from God, who 
alone is able to make you conqueror over this dreadful enemy. 
If you live near to him, he will protect you. He will "teach 
your hands to war, and your fingers to fight ; " will encourage 
you in the heat of the conflict with his smile and whispers of 
comfort and love, and will give you the victory. Better than 
all, he wUl bring you at last up to his own home, put a crown 
upon your head, and seat you upon a throne of glorious tri- 
umph in the heavenly kingdom of Jesus Christ ; for hear what 
Jesus has said : " To him that overcometh will I grant to sit 
with me in my throne, even as'^I also overcame, and am set 
down with my Father in his throne." 



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THE PILGRIM MONUMENT. 



llo 




THE PILGaiM MONUMENT. 

Evert child lias heard of Plymouth Rock, and of the Pii- 
grims who landed there. It was on the 22d of December, 



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116 



HOME STORIES 



1620. The picture shows the very large and costly monument 
which is being built at Plymouth to commemorate that event. 

The monument is to be one hundred and fifty feet high, buUt 
of solid granite. The fiigure at the top is a statue of Religion 
holding an open Bible, and pointing to heaven. The figures 
below, two of which only are seen, are Morality, Education, 
Law, and Liberty. Underneath these are representations of 
the " Departure from Delfthaven," " The signing of the Social 
Compact in the Cabin of the May-Flower," " The Landing at 
Plymouth," and "The First Treaty with the Indians." On 
the four large panels are the names of the Pilgrims and the 
principal events in their history. 

It is a good thing to erect monuments of good men. Our 
Pilgrim Fathers were such men. They loved religion, and they 
came here to have a home where they could worship God with- 
out molestation. And as they honored God, so he has honored 
them. He has made of that little company a great nation, 
who recall with pride and veneration their memory. Let us, 
as we enjoy our dear homes and our blessings, thank God for 
the Pilgrims, and that we are now reaping the fruits which 
they sowed for us in prayer and faith and suffering, almost 
two hundred and fifty years ago. 



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THE TEUANT SKATEK. 117 



THE TRUAM' SKATER. 

When the trees with ice were laden, 
And the north wind loudly blew, 

Edward took his skates, and swiftly 
Toward the ice-bound lakelet flew. 

Foolish boy! his gentle mother 
Had forbidden him to go ; 

For she saw the danger lurking 
Under new-formed ice and snow. 

Soon the merry skaters, dashing 
O'er the mooulit lake, he sees ; 

And he hears their glad young voices 
Humming like the busy bees. 

All forgotten is his mother, 
And her warning kindly said ; 

Soon among the bravest skaters 
Loudly shouted truant Ned. 

Now he nears a spot, where hidden, 
Is a hole of frightful size ; 

But the bonfire's dancing brightness* 
Dazzles his bewildered eyes. 



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HOME STOBIES. 

Down he goes ! the icy water 

Filling throat and ears and nose, — 

" Ned is drowning ! Can't you save him ? 

Oh, he's anking! There' he goes!" 

See ! poor Ned is slowly rising, , 
Almost senseless with his fears ; 

His cold hands are grasped above him, 
And a friendly voice he hears. 



drag him, chilled and dripping, 
to the icy shore ; 
And with stiffened lips he whispers, 
" I'll play truant nevermore^" 




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A Q D A R I U M . 




AN AQUAKIUM. 

Did you ever see one ? Many a chiM has visited the "Aqua^ 
rial Gardens" in Boston, and looked with deUght upon the 
strange and heautiful inhabitants of tlie sea, with the pebbles, 
coral, and shells, that are gathered in glass tanks, of which 
there is a large number to be examined. Our artist has given 
you here a fine picture of an aquarium. 

A friend of the children sends us a very interesting letter^ 
describing what may be seen near her home, which is on the 



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120 



HOME STORIES. 



She giv.es an account of tlie coral insects. You 
will notice in this picture the star-fish, the coral, aud other 
things of which she writes. This is her letter : — 

"Come to our bay when the day is pleasant, the water 
smooth as ice, and when the tide has gone out, leaving the 
gray rocks and brown seaweed bare ; enter our httle boat, and 
I will show you some of these curiosities. 

"Let us row across to the lighthouse-pier, which stretches 
far out. Once a treacherous sand-bank was here, covered with 
water, and many a vessel struck, when the sailors thought 
themselves safe in port, till this stone pier and the Hghthouse 
were built over it to warn them of danger. We will row up 
close, and steady our boat by holding to the bimches of sear 
weed that grow thickly here, while we look for the coral. 

" Here is a cavity left by the falling out of one of the granite 
stones. Lift up the curtain of seaweed and look in ; is it not 
pretty as a fairy cave ? The gray walls are lined with white 
or red enamel ; this, also, is made by insects, but too small for 
you to see. Here and there is a ball of white or brown jelly, 
waiting for the tide to open into wavy fringes. These are 
the anemones ; and numbers of colored shells are being moved 
about by their occupants, which are all life and enjoyment 
among the hright-green seaweed, 

" What is that lovely, sparkling blue 1 Only common brown 
seaweed when out of the water, but looking as if it had stolen 



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AN AQUARIUM. 121 

the color of the sky when in it ; that we call the chondrus, but 
I must not give you any more hard names to remember. 

"Ah ! here is the coral , Do you see on that shelf of rock, 
which the tide has not yet reached, something like a white 
rose pressed flat, or a cluster of white snow-flakes ? Look 
closer, you wUl see it is something like the coral to which you 
have been accustomed ; a number of little stars close together, 
with a tiny dot in the center of each. 

"Now let us wait till the tide rises and the water just covers 
them. Its first touch will waken the little animals now shut so 
quietly, each in its own cell Ah ! there they come ; that 
largest one has put out a little circle of white fingers, dehcate 
as the finest silk ; now another and another, all waving and 
stretching and moving and reaching about in the water, tUI 
even to the tiniest ones on the outside of the cluster, all are full 
of life. But what are they doing ? Eating ; their mothers do 
not cook for them, nor their fathers find food for them, yet the 
good All-father feeds even these little things, for he cares for all. 

"Atoms too small for you to see are swept past them by the 
water, and their delicate fingers catch them and push them 
down into their mouths, and so the insects are nourished and 
make for themselves, each his little cell. What's this ! All 
have disappeared, shut up as closely as if they had never been 
open. Yet the water goes over them as smoothly as ever. 
What is the matter? 



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122 



HOME STORIES. 



" Look ! Don't you see the great, purple star-fish creeping 
along with his hundred feet and thousand suckers ? The hun- 
gry giant fancied he was about to have a good supper, but 
scarcely has his foremost point touched the coral than all are 
safely folded away. Creep on, Mr. Star, with those great rays 
of yours ! Walk over the coral ; you will find only a hard- 
edged surface, no tender little morsels to feed on ; and then be 
off, and surprise some unfortunate muscle that has just opened 
his shell for a drink of clear water ! 

" Now he is gone, and out pops one' little finger, and another, 
and in less than a minute they are as lively and active as ever. 
There comes a wave and sweeps a heavy bunch of seaweed 
over them, hut they do not close. They are not so foolish 
as some little children I have heard of, afraid of every thing 
they meet ; especially, afraid of the dark. 

" * But how,' you ask, ' do they know the difference between 
the starfish and the seaweed ? ' I can scarcely tell you, except 
that it is by the use of a certain power which God has given 
them, and which we call instinct, and very quickly and will- 
ingly they obey its teachings. 

" God has given much higher powers to you, children : 
reason and knowledge and parents and teachers, to show you 
what is right and wrong ; yet I am afraid you do not always 
obey these as readily as the poor httle coral insects do their 
only Teacher, though you are in far more danger. 



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"not thankful enough." 123 

"And now the tide is rising over the mouth of the cave, so 
we will drop the seaweed curtain, and leave them to their 
quiet happiness." 



"NOT THANKFUL ENOUGH." 

1 ENTERED the cars at N one morning, to go on the Con- 
necticut River Railroad to S , and sat down beside a little 

fellow whom, from his appearance, I took for a boy of perhaps 
nine or ten years. There was something in his countenance 
which immediately arrested my attention. While an expres- 
sion of content, and even of peace and joy, rested on his pale 
face, I could see also the evidences of suffering ; and I noticed 
at the same time, as additional probf that he was subject to 
some infirmity, a. pair of crutches standing by the car-window. 

I commenced conversation with him, and found him very 
intelligent, and quite willing to talk with me. Thus I learned 
that, instead of beiug only nine years old, he was fourteen ; 
that at the age of three years he had been injured by a fall, 
and from that time, now eleven years, he had been a hopeless, 
suffering cripple. I felt much interested in his case, and 
greatly benefited by his words, they were so full of meekness 
and submission ; for this dear boy, cut off by his misfortune 



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124 



HOME STORIES. 



from all the sports and the outrdoor amusements in which 

boys so much delight, expressed, with beaming eyes, his hap- 
piness in the love of that Saviom: who had seen fit to make 
his path through so much trial 

When I reminded him that he had no doubt been kept by 
his lameness from many temptations to wicked ways which he 
would have met in the streets, " Oh, yes ! " he said, " I know 
that. And then I have a great many blessings, — a great 
many things to make me happy. I often feel that lam not 
thankful enough for them" 

As I looked down upon that little form, checked in its 
growth by suffering, and into that white, patient face, and as I 
heard the expressions of trust in and love for Him who " doth 
not afOict willingly," my heart smote me for my own ingrati- 
tude to my heavenly Father, 

Dear children, when the day appointed for " Thanksgiving " 
comes, do you ever find it hard to tell what you have to thank 
God for? Does it ever seem to you that the day may be 
a very good one for grown-up people, — for mm who have 
gathered great harvests, or done a large business, or had richly 
freighted ships come in, while you find it hard to see what 
little boys and girls have to do with being thankful ? 

Sit down a moment and think of your blessings. Remem- 
ber this little lame boy. Remember the deaf and dumb, the 
blind, and multitudes of other children who are suffering in 



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KATE AND THE GOAT. 



various ways, and see if you have not sometlmg to make you 
thankful ; and it may be that you too will be ready to say, " I 
have many blessings, and I feel that I am not thankful enough 
for them ! " 



KATE AND THE GOAT. 

Little Kate had many friends, and was generally a cheerful, 
good-natured child; but she had a great fault, which sometimes 
got her into trouble, — she was very stubborn. One day she 
had to cross a stream of water on a plank, which served as a 
foot bridge ; but just as she got on one end, a goat stepped 
on the other. Now Kate resolved that she would not give up 
to a goat ; so they met on the middle of the plank, .and stood 
atiU for a few minutes looking at each other. The goat could 
not turn back ; so, as Kate would not, he ended the dispute by 
pushing her into the water, and walking quickly over. She 
soon screamed for help, and was taken out dripping wet, and 
quite mortified. Though we should be firm in roatters of duty 
and principle, let us not be stubborn about trifles, nor too proud 
to yield when we ought to do so. 



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126 HOME STORIES. 




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J^^^ 


•4 . 




N.-^ ' 


THE ALPINE 


PASS. 


Do you know, boys, that you have entered upon the most 


difficult and perilous passage of your life ? Ascending from 


childhood up to manhood is like 


climbing up the steep, slip- 


pery sides of a high momitain, 


where the way all along \ 


abounds in dangerous places, sharp 


turns, abrupt ascents, fear- 


ful precipices, and yawning chasms. 


Oh, how hard it is to get 



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THE ALPINE PASS. 127 

to the top in safety ! How many, many boys fall and are lost 
for ever ! 

I rode up the St. Goihard once, among the Alps, and I wish 
I could describe the journey vividly to you, for I so often 
think of it when I meet with a boy of your age, and perceive 
the jeopardy which he is constantly in. The road was a 
splendid one ; there was no fault to find with that. It was 
originally planned and constructed by Napoleon the Great, 
and is now kept in, the finest order by the government And 
your road is a good one ; there could not be a surer or safer 
one. If you walk right on and up in the path of truth and 
duty, all will be well with you. The surroundings, the liabili- 
ties, the side-way exposures, are what make it so dangerous. 

"We started on a bright, sunny morning, just after a deep 
snow, for it was mid-winter ; and a large party of men had 
been sent ahead to shovel the path and clear the way for us ; 
just as your parents and teachers have, as it were, been sent 
before you, that by their experience your way might be made 
smoother and more secure. It will be well for you to listen 
to their counsels and heed their suggestions. As we could not 
go in the usual conveyance, — the great lumbering diligence, — 
the whole company of travellers cauld not proceed together ; 
so we had to divide into pairs, and fiUed a line of twenty-five 
single sleighs, or rather rude sledges on low runners. In these 
narrow vehicles the two passengers sat facing each other, and 



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128 



HOME STORIES 



the driver in front These drivers, or pilots I might call them, 
are very expert and careful men, thoroughly acquainted with 
the way, and ever on the alert to perceive and avoid danger. 
They directed us to dress very snugly, not aUowing a vail, 
cape, or scarf to be worn, unless it was fastened down closely, 
and not suffering us to place in the sleigh an umbrella, cane, 
or any thing that would project. Why 1 Because the winds 
sweep in sudden and fierce gusts down those hights, and 
around those sharp angles in the road, might catch in some 
fluttering garment, and, filling it like a sail, whirl us in a mo- 
ment over the awful precipice ; or a projecting article from 
the sledge might strike against the rock in going rapidly 
around the curve, and upset our frail conveyance, and topple 
us down the abyss to a horrible death. The road wound up 
and around the sides of the mountain in zigzag hnes cut into 
the rock like shelves. As our sleigh was almost the last of the 
long procession, I could look up and see a line of a dozen or 
twenty on a narrow ledge, almost perpendicularly over my 
bead, driving along at a furious rate, and in a moment or two 
we were whirled up a steep place and around a point, and were 
there ourselves, the others still higher on. In many places, I 
could put out one band and touch the rock that rose like a 
solid wall straight up to an immense distance beside me, and. 
turning my head on the other side, could look down, down, 
hundreds and thousands of feet into the most terrific gulfs. 



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THE ALPINE PASS. . 129 

" Don't look down there," said the driver ; " it will make 
you faint and dizzy, and you may fall out," 

" Do accidents often occur on these mountain passes ? " we 
asked. 

" Not very often," he said, " for we understand our business 
pretty well. I've driven up and down the St. Gothard almost 
every day for twenty-five years, and our horses are well 
trained, too. But sometimes something gives way, or the 
animals take fright, and then nothing can stop them. In a 
team of six horses, if one goes wrong, all the rest wiU go too. 
A diligence went over, ji^t about in this spot, last summer." 

We shuddered to think of the horrid catastrophe. 

Now, dear boys, don't you see some points of resemblance 
between this fearful mountain-ascent, and the way in which 
you must go ? 

You have a cautious, wise Pilot, who never errs, — Jesus. If 
you will but follow his directions, you will be safe. 

You must dress for your journey ; that is, clothe yom-selves 
■around snugly with correct principles, good habits, and firm 
resolutions. Bad habits will be the fiuttering, projecting things 
that will catch the evil wind, and be the occasion of your over- 
throw. So be sure to leave them aU behind, or put them 
under your feet. 

Don't go too near the edge of the precipice, curious to look 
over the rugged sides, lest you should lose your balance and 



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130 HOME 8TORIB8. 


fall. Keep your eyes straight forward, « looking untc 


Jesus," 


and never turn to the right hand or to the left. Don't stop | 


on those dizzy hlghts to gather flowers, or heed the 


enticing 


voices of gay, careless companions. Follow your 


Leader 


closely; obey him, and you will find yourself, by 


and by. 


safely arrived on the sublime hights of a noble and virtuous | 


manhod. 




Happy, thrice happy are those who make the perilous ascent 


from the sunny vales of infancy, through the slippery paths 


of youth, up to mature age, uninjured by accident 


or stain 


of sin. 




* 





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TIDY LEARNING TO READ. 




TIDY LEARNING TO BEAD. 

TmT was a little slave at the South. She had to wait upon 
two young girls, Amelia and Susie, the children of her master, 
and every day she was accustomed to walk to the school-house 
■with them, to carry their books and the basket which con- 



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132 



tained their dinner, gut she always left them at the door. 
The school was not for h^. 

One summer's morning they were earlier than usual, and 
emerging from the woods, warm and weary with their long 
walk, they threw themselves down upon the rock over which, 
in the early day, the shadow of the trees refreshingly fell. 
Amelia turned her face toward the run, and, luUed by the 
gentle murmuring of the water and the humming of the in- 
sects, was soon quietly asleep ; Susie, with an apronful of burs, 
was making furniture for the play-house which they were ar- 
ranging in a cleft of the rock ; and Tidy, who carried the 
books, was busily turning over the leaves and amusuig herself 
with the pictures. 

" My sakes ! " she exclaimed presently, " what a funny cre- 
tur ! See that great lump on his back ! " and she pointed with 
her finger to the picture of a camel. "Miss Susie! what is 
that ? Is it a lame horse ? " 

"Why, no, Tidy ; that's a camel ; 'tisn't a horse at all I was 
reading that very place yesterday, — let me see ;" and, taking 
the book, she read very intelligently a brief account of the 
wonderful animal. 

" How queer ! " said Tidy, deeply interested. "And is there 
something in this book about all the pictures ? " 

" Yes," answered Susie ; " if you could only read now, you 
would know about every one. See here, on the next page is 



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TIDY LEARNING TO READ. 133 

an elephant ; see his great tusks, and his monstrous long 
trunk ; " and the child read to her attentive listener of another 
of the wonders of creation. 

" How I wish / could read ; why can't I ? " asked Tidy ; and 
the little colored face was turned up, full of animation. " I 
don't b'lieve but I could learn as well as you." 

"Why, of course you could," answered Amelia, who had 
risen quite refreshed by her short nap. " I don't see why not. 
You can't go to school, you know, because mother wants you 
to work ; but J could teach you just as well as not" 

" Oh, could you ? — win you 1 Do begin ! " cried the eager 
child. " Oh, Miss Mely, if you only would, I'd do any thing 
for you." 

" Look here," said Amelia, seizing the oook from her sister's 
hands, and by virtue of superior age constituting herself the 
teacher ; " do you see those lines ? " and she pointed to the 
columns of letters on the first page. 

" Tes," said the ready pupD, aU attention. . 

" Well, those are letters ; the alphabet, they call it. Every 
one of them has got a name, and when you have learned to 
know them all perfectly, so that you can call them all right, 
wherever you see 'em, why, then you can read any thing." 

"Any thing ? " asked Tidy, in amazement. 

" Yes, any thing ; all kinds of books and papers, and the 
Bible, and every thing." 



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HOME STOBIES 



" I can learn i 



; I'se sure I can," said Tidj. " Let's begin 



"Well, you see that first one, — that's A. You see how it's 
made J two lines go right up to a point, and then a straight one 
across. Now say, what is it ?" 

"A." 

" Yes ; and now the nest one, — that's B. There's a straight 
line down and two curves on the front. What's. that?" 

«B." 

" Now you must remember those two. I shan't tell you any 
more this morning, and I shall make you do just as Miss Agnes 
used to make me. Miss Agnes was our governess at home be- 
fore we came here to school She made me take a newspaper 
— see, here's a piece — and prick the letters on it with a pin. 
Now you take this piece of paper and prick every A and 
every B that you can find on it, and to-morrow 111 show you 
some more." 

Just then the bell sounded from the school-house, and 
Amelia and Susan went to their duties, but not with half so 
glad a heart as Tidy set herself to hers. 

Thus Tidj began to learn to read. She had very many 
and very great difficulties to struggle against, but she perse- 
vered and was at last successful. As the years passed by, 
and she was enabled, by H'th who watches over the lowly, 
to understajid what she read, the hymns she loved and the 



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"STIHQINESS." 135 

Word of God were made the means of leading her to Jesus 
Christ, 

Tidy at length obtained her freedom, and she still lives, a 
happy Christian. Though poor, she can say with a glad heart, 
" I have every thing I want, for God is my Father. He gives 
me every thing he sees best for me." 



" STINGINESS." 

*'Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee, 
turn not thou away." 

" Lizzie, won't you lend me your new lead-pencil to finish 
drawing my horse with, — mine is worn so short and stumpy? " 

Little Georgie looked np pleadingly from his seat on the 
floor, where he was bending over a rough drawing in an old 
blank-book. 

" No, George, I can't," answered his sister, a Httle pettishly ; 
* I'm afraid youll break oflf the point" 

" No ; I'U be very careful ; please lend it to me, Lizzie ? " 

" I can't, I say ; don't ask me ag^." 

" Why not, lizzie ? " asked her grown-up cousin, Grace, who 
was sitting by the window, busy with some embroidery ; "sup- 
pose he does break off the point, you can sharpen it again; or. 



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136 



HE STORIES 



if you can not do it nicely, I will do it for you ; don't be diso- 
bliging." 

"Oh, well, I don't like to lend my things. Cousin Grace. 
They always get spoiled in some way. Maybe he'll break off 
the ivory head, or scratch it, or something, and I want to keep 
it aU nice and new." 

Cousin Grace made no answer to this short and selfish 
speech. 

"I will lend you mine, Georgie," she said ; ".it is away up 
stairs, but no matter." And she rose and laid aside her thim- 
ble and scissors and work. 

Georgie looked up with a delighted **Thank you," and Lizzie 
pouted, but she did not offer to save her cousin the trouble ; so 
the kind young lady went up stairs and brought down her 
own pencil for the little boy, who was made happy for an 
hour, by the nice, bold strokes with which he could now shade 
off the horse he was drawing. 

The next morning, as Cousin Grace was again seated near 
the window, embroidering, Lizzie came up to her and said, — 

" Won't you be so kind as to lend me your small scissors. 
Cousin Grace ? Mine are so blunt they won't cut nice eyelets 
at all, — and I shall spoil this band." 

" No, Lizzie, I can't," said Cousin Grace, mimicking exactly 
the tone in which Lizzie had answered her little brother the 
day before. " I'm afraid you might break off the points." 



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"STINGINESS." 137 

" Why, no, I shan't," said Lizzie, scarcely knowing whether 
her cousin was in earnest or not ; " I'm not going to cut tow 
cloth with them." 

" Well you might tarnish their brightness, or dull them, or 
something," answered Cousin Grace, in a sort of pettish drawl; 
"I like to keep my things nice and new." 

Lizzie could not mistake her meaning now. She turned very 
red, and, walking away without a word, sat down, and went on 
hacking away with her blunt scissors in silence. Cousin Grace 
sewed on silently, too, for some time ; but she was very kind- 
hearted, and could not bear to punish her little cousin very 
long. So she said, presently, in a kind, grave Iflne, — 

"I suppose you think me a little hard in denying you so 
small a favor, do you, Lizzie ?" 

Ijzzie blushed again, but did not speak. She knew it was 
only just 

" I am sorry to say that I have seen this fault growing upon 
you, my dear child," Cousin Grace continued, "and it is a 
grievous one, and makes the person guilty of it disagreeable to 
every one else. How can Georgie love you, when you refuse 
all his little requests, and never put yourself out to make him 
happy ? Or how can the rest of us love you when we see you 
so disobliging? And more than that, God is displeased to see 
you so selfish. Did you know that you were breaking a com- 
mand of his yesterday, when you refused to lend Georgie your 



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138 



HOME STOEIES 



pencil ? He says, ' Give to him that asketh thee, and from 
him that would borrow of thee, turn not thou away.' " 

" But I have heard mother say that it was not right to bor- 
row," said Lizzie, a httle sullenly. 

"And so it is not right to make a habit of borrowing. It is 
a very bad plan for neighbors to be constantly borrowing 
among each other ; they should try to have what is necessary, 
of their own, and do without what they can not get for them- 
selves. But that rule does not apply to such little acts of kind- 
ness and courtesy. Christ gave this command, as he did many 
others, to teach us to be unselfish, and care for the pleasure of 
others as much as for our own. I want you to learn that text, 
Lizzie, and promise me that you will try to act according to its 
spirit, hereafter. And, now, here are the scissors." 

So Lizzie came to get them, and kissed her Cousin Grace, 
and promised to remember what had been said to her. 



THE "GROTTO DEL CANE." 

There is a cavern near Naples, in Italy, called the "Grotto 

of the Dog," because, while people who walk through it erect 
are unharmed, the dogs, running with their noses to the groimd, 
drop suddenly dead a few steps within. 



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"the grotto del cane." 139 

There is a very poisonous gas that men and animals throw 
off from their lungs while breathing. , It is called " carbonic 
acid gas," and is the same as that which comes from burning 
charcoal, and it kills people who are shut up in a close room 
with it, and can not get the pure air. There is a great deal of 
this gas in dark places, pits, and sewers, and xmderground 
sinks, and the workmen who go down into them often lose 
their lives. 

It is this sort of gas that lies at the bottom of the " Grotto 
del Cane," and takes away the breath of many a poor dog. I 
suppose you would like to know why God made this poisonous 
acid, that is so fatal to those who come in contact with it. I 
will tell you something about the air we breathe, and try to 
make it so simple that you will understand, and see the wisdom 
of the great Creator, who doeth all things weU. 

I went to hear some very pleasant lectures on this subject 
not long since. They were given for children, and I like to be 
taught as the little people are, so I found myself among them. 

The professor told us that the air is composed of two gases. 
You know a gas is something you can not see or take hold of, 
though it touches you all the time. 

One of these gases is called oxygen, and without it you 
could not live. The other is called nitrogen, and is, by itr 
self, a very bad, ugly gas, and would destroy your life in a 
room where it is. 



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HOME ST0EIB8. 



Then the lecturer took a jar of the oxygen and thrust a 
lighted taper into it, and it burned brighter, but when he thrust 
it into a jar of nitrogen, out it went in a trice. 

*■ You see, good young people," said he, " what a great dif- 
ference there is in the two gases ; which do* you like best ? " 

Of course they all said, " Oxygen." "And yet," continued 
he, " God has given us only one-fifth of oxygen in the common 
air, to four-fifths of nitrogen. Would you like to know why ?" 

" Yes, sir ! yes, sir ! " cried the many voices. 

" I win tell you what this pure osygen would do if you 
were to breathe it alone," said he. "It would make your 
pulse beat faster and .faster, and swell your veins almost to 
bursting, and you would be frisking about in a wilder and 
wilder mood, until at last you would be quite frantic, and 
would die. It is too stimulating for us; that is the reason 
why God has diluted or weakened it with so much of this ni- 
trogen, which by itself is so bad a gas." 

"What if we were to have the nitrogen only?" asked an 
intelligent little boy, who was an attentive listener. 

"Why, your breath woidd cease in a minute, or at least as 
quick as you had used up what oxygen there was in your 
lungs when you were shut up. But I want to tell you some- 
thing else that I think very wonderful indeed," said the profes- 
sor, " about the carbonic acid gas that you and I, and all the 
people' in this room, are throwing o££. Ijet me see. There are 



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"the geotto del cane." 141 

four hundred people, and if we remain two hours, we shall 
throw oflf from our lungs enough of this gas to make twenty- 
five pounds of charcoal." 

The children began to look about to see if the windows 
were let down. 

" That is right," said the lecturer; ''we must have seme way 
for this poison to escape. Do any of you feel dull or drowsy?" 

" My head aches," said a little girl in the corner, where it 
was close and dark, and the children were packed tightly. 

" What gas do we need here, children, to purify the air ? " 
asked the professor. 

" Oxygen," was the ready anawer. 

"WeD, where shall we get it?" 

" Open the windows ; let in more good air," said the little 
people. 

"That is true. Perhaps you have heard the dreadful fate 
of the poor creatures tliat were put in the hold of a ship 
during a storm, and the hatches closed upon them. When the 
hatches were reopened, there were crowds of dead and dying, 
all from the effect of this carbonic acid gas that so many lungs 
were throwing off, while no fresh supply of oxygen could be 
obtained." 

Some of the children had heard it, and all said, "How 
dreadful ! " 

" Would you believe that this carbonic acid gas, that is such 



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