•■m 



RIPE CHERRIES, 



Oii 



THE HISTORY 



OF 



WILLIAM AND JANE. 










PUBLISHED BY 

THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
150 Nassau Street, New- York. 

NO. XIII. 







RIPE CHERRIE S. 



William and Jane one day were al- 
lowed by their mother to go and play 
by themselves in the garden. She 
could trust them, for they had learned 
always to try to do what is right, 
though nobody was looking at them. 
And we should always remember this ; 
for God sees us, though we cannot see 



195) RIPE CHERRIES. 3 

him; as it is written in the 139th 
Psalm, " Thou art acquainted with all 
my ways ;" and as the beautiful hymn 

says, 

Almighty God, thy piercing eye 
Strikes through the shades of night, 

And our most secret actions lie 
All open to thy sight. 

There's not a sin that we commit, 

Nor wicked word we say, 
But in thy dreadful book 'tis writ, 

Against the judgment day. 

O may 1 now forever fear 
T ; indulge a sinful thought ; 

Since the great God can see and hear 
And writes down every fault. 

They played for some time in a 
pleasant, good-humored manner, like 
children who knew the " sweet delight 



RIPE CHERRIES. 



(196 



of being kind," If children could but 
persuade themselves to remember how 
they wish their playfellows and com- 
panions to behave to them, I think 
they would often avoid doing unkind 
things, or saying rude words. See 
how well William and Jane agree, and 
how affectionately they are reading to- 




'■V' '-<'•-- 






gether that pretty hymn in Watts.. 
called " Love between Brothers and 
Sisters." After reading for some time, 



197) 



RIPE CHERRIES, 



William went to weed his garden, while 
Jane was feeding the chickens, for she 
was very fond of her " pretty chicks," 
as she called them, and never forgot to 




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feed them. It is a cruel thing to neg- 
lect the creatures of God, and leave 
them to suffer from hunger or thirst. 
Jane thought so too, and was very kind 
to dumb creatures. When Jane had 
finished with the chickens, she went to 
&ee how William came on with \m 



6 RIPE CHERRIES. (198 

garden, and to ask him for a few flow- 
ers. 

There was a wall on one side of the 
garden, with fruit trees nailed against 
it : among them was a very beautiful 
cherry-tree; there w 7 ere not many cher- 
ries on it that year, and they w T ere quite 
ripe, but they had been allowed to re- 
main on the tree, as William and Jane's 
father w T as expected to return from a 
long journey the next day, and their 
mother had told them that she wished 
to keep these cherries for him. 

There are some children I have 
known, who will go and gather fruit 
and flowers without asking leave, if 
they are allowed to walk in the gar- 
den, and will try to help themselves 
slyly, which they know is wrong. 



199) RIPE CHERRIES. 7 

These silly children forget that God 

sees them, though man may not. Wil- 
liam and Jane were not like these chil- 
dren ; they had been taught never to 
help themselves to any fruit without 
leave ; and, as I told you, their mother 
could trust them. Is it not very pleas- 
ant to feel that you can be trusted ? 
Well, then, take care ; the Bible tells 
us, " Let him that thinketh he stand- 
eth, take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. 10 : 
1 2 ; and what I am going to tell you 
will show you how necessary it is to 
remember that text. 

William and Jane were running 
along the walk, when, as they came 
near the cherry-tree, a gust of wind 
shook the leaves, and several ripe cher- 
ries fell off the tree. William stopped 



8 



RIPE CHERRIES. 



(200 



to look at them, and I am sorry to have 
to say that Jane stooped down and 
picked some of them up ; she ate two 




or three, and gave the rest to her bro- 
ther. They had not finished eating 
them, when Jane recollected that they 
were doing wrong. "Oh, William' 5 



201) ripe CHERRIES. 9 

she cried out, " what have we done ? 
How displeased mamma will be ! 
What shall we do ? 

William. The cherries looked so 
good, I quite forgot — but suppose we 
don't tell her. 

Jane. O William ! that would be 
making bad worse. We have done 
wrong, it is true ; but you know we 
must tell her. 

William. But you know she is dis- 
pleased if we do not remember what 
she tells us, and punishes us if we dis- 
obey her. 

Jane. Yes ; but I had rather she 
knew all and punished me, than to try 
to hide it ; for I am sure I never could 
feel happy when she looked at me, if 
I had deceived her ; and you know she 



10 EIPE CHERRIES. (202 

does not punish us because she is an- 
gry, but that we may try to do what is 
right in future. 

William. Yes; but I don't like to 
see her displeased, and she is always 
grieved when she knows we have done 
wrong. Why should we make her 
unhappy ? 

Jane. She would be much more un- 
happy if she found that we try to hide 
what we have done. Recollect what 
she told us last Sabbath, that God is 
always ready to forgive those who 
come and ask pardon for Christ's sake, 
when they have done wrong. Your 
text was, " If we confess our sins, he 
is faithful and just to forgive us our 
sins, and to cleanse us from all un- 
righteousness." 1 John 1 : 9. And you 



203) RIPE CHERRIES. 11 

know, she said, that if God, who is so 
great and so good, has promised to do 
this, then surely a parent or teacher 
who loves God, will be ready to do the 
same ; and if you recollect, she told us 
never to let false shame keep us from 
telling her at once we had done wrong, 
or we should get more and more into 
sin and trouble. 

William, Well, well, you are right ; 
let us make haste and go to her, and 
tell her the truth. 

So they went, hand in hand, to find 
their mother ; of course they were not 
very cheerful, but they felt thankful 
that they had been able to determine 
to do what was right, and tell the truth. 

" Oh, mamma, 5 ' said Jane, " you will 
be sorrv to hear that we have been 



w^mmmmk j*e-m wm i ■ 



12 RIPE CHERRIES. (204 

naughty children; but we know it 
would not be right to try to hide what 
we have done, so we are come to tell 
you the truth. Jane then told all that 
had happened, exactly as it passed, 
and William produced the cherry- 
stones, which he had brought, that his 
mother might see how many he had 
really eaten ; and I can assure you 
they did not try to make any excuses, 
but told the whole truth. 

Their mother was sorry to hear they 
had disobeyed her, but she was pleased 
to find that they were ready to tell the 
truth, and still more so, to find that they 
did not attempt to say, " It was only a 
very few ;" or, " It was Jane who gave 
them to me ;" or, " If William had not 
stopped, I should not have touched 



i 



205) 



RIPE CHERRIES. 



13 



them." I am afraid there are some 
children who would have made foolish 
excuses like these: such conduct is 
always a bad sign. If little boys or 







girls begin to make excuses, I am then 
certain that they are not really con- 
vinced that they have done wrong, but 



14 RIPE CHERRIES. (1 0(5 

are only sorry that they have been 
found out. 

When William and Jane had told 
their mother all the truth, they expect- 
ed that she would punish them, and 
they were quite ready to submit to 
whatever she might think it right to do. 
After a few minutes, their mother told 
diem, that as they had been so ready 
to tell the truth, without attempting to 
make any excuse, she was satisfied 
that they were really convinced that 
they had done wrong, and she thought 
that they would be more careful in fu- 
ture : so she would not punish them, 
and trusted they would not soon forget 
what had happened, and that their bro- 
ther and sister would remember it also. 
She then reminded them that they 



207 



RIPE CHERRIES. 



15 












could only overcome temptation by- 
looking to God for grace to enable 
them to resist it, and that this was 
necessary in every thing, whether 
great or small, as a very trifling fault 
often leads to a very great one. 

If my little readers like this story, 
I hope that they will remember what 
it is to teach them, and not merely 
think about the cherries. 







3 



»-■ 







How kind is Jesus, oh ! how good ! 
j For my poor soul he shed his blood ; 
For children's sake he was reviled, 
Yet Jesus loves a little child. 

To me may Jesus now impart 
| Although so young, a gracious heart 
Alas ! I'm oft by gin defiled, 
Yet Jesus loves the little child. 



Egbert, Ilovey & King, Printers. 



m 



