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RAND RAPIDS P
LIBRARY
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ES ABLISHED 187_
K’ \ uni_-mu


THE MAY G.QUlGLEY
COLLECTION
OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE
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Donated by the
Grand Raprds Publw Lrbrary
The May G Qmgley
Collectwn
of Ch1ldren’s Lzterature
December 2001
The Umverslty of Mlchlgan Dearborn
Mardlglan Llbrary





GRAND RAF‘ I DS.
PUBLICZ LIBRARY


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THE THREE SISTERS
See page 129.


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SHELDON, BLAKEMAN 8:00
No. 115 Nassau Street.
1856.
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CONTENTS
RIGHT IS MIGHT; on, Tun Rnuz. Msssmn
G1‘zas, . . . . . . . . . .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 7
WIT AND WEALTH, ..................... .. 31
PREJUDICE, .............................. 39
PETER AND THE PIG, ...... 49
GHOS'1‘ STORIES, ....................... 51
THE FAIRY MONITOR, .... 11
norm‘ GIVE UP THE smr, ...... .. 15
THE UNFA‘ITHFUL SERVANT,. .... s1
SNOW-BALLING, . ss
TRUTH TR.1UMPHANT,.... . as
HUSKING THE CORN,.........\..... 9a


6 ' CONTENTS-
THE THORN, .................... ..... .. 96
A MOTHER'S COUNSEL,... . .. ...- 99
A BROWN COAT OR A BLUE on, Tun
Imrowuncz or A SINGLE Wont: ......... 104
EFFECTS OF A THOUGHTLESS ACTION, 106
THE FIRST LIE, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 114
THE SPOILED CHILD, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
THE THREE SISTERS, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 129
THE VAIN SEARCH, . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
'llIhA\
‘lI\‘n”Y



RIGHT IS MIGHT;
on,
THE RIVAL MESSENGERS.
In the days of the famous Genghis, Khan or
King of Tartary, there was one of his princes
who ruled over a province at a great distance
from the seat of government; and he had,
at a certain time, occasion to send a messen-
ger to the Khan, who was then there. The
purpose of the message was to communicate
some gratifying intelligence, in relation to
the conquest of a province of Persia; and
the prince knew that whoever should be the
bearer of these pleasant tidings, was sure to
receive some distinguished mark of royal
favor.
In order to provide against the chance of
miscarriage, it seemed necessary to despatch
two messengers, and by different routes;


8 19,1051 IS mteu'r; on,
one of them leading through a pleasant and
peaceful country, the other passing over
mountainous regions, inhabited by hostile
and warlike tribes.
It was a desirable, though a dangerous
mission, and many of the young men of the
court and the army, hoped the choice might
fall on them. It was, at last, decided that
the only son of the prince should be one of
the messengers, and that he should take the
safer and easier route; and that a young
officer, the son of a peasant, should be the
other, and proceed by way of the mountains.
They were soon ready and departed upon
their expedition, each being provided with a
swift courser, and attended by four well-
mounted men, skilled in all the arts of war
and horsemanship.
Phalax, the son of the prince, took
leave of his friends with a haughty confié
dence of reaching the seat of government
before his rival. He not only had an easier
and safer route, but he was in fact better
mounted; his horse was of the famous
hollow-backed breed, of King Solomon, and


IO RIGHT IS MIGHT; on,
the mass of mankind are apt to be on the
side which seems to be that of power, and
likely to obtain ‘success. It was for these
reasons that the greater portion of the
spectators cheered Phalax, while only a
few--those who reflected more justly-
encouraged Abdael, the humble and more
modest of the rival messengers.
As Phalax was about to depart, his prince-
ly father beckoned him to his side, and
whispered in his ear a single word: “ Suc-
cess and glory, my son l May the Father of
light bless thee!” It was almost at the
same moment, that an old man stood at the
side of Abdael. He was evidently poor,
for his garments betokened it, but he was
still of a respectable mien. “ Give me thine
ear, Abdael,” said he. The young man
bent in his saddle. “'1 he chances are
against thee, my boy, for the prince has, in
his heart, designed thy ruin, and his son’s
triumph; yet there is one thing thou canst
do.” “What is it, my father?” said Ab-
dael. “Thy duty,” was the reply. “It
shall be donel” said the young man; and
he rode away.


THE RIVAL MESSENGERS. ll
Thus the messengers set forth, guided by
different counsels, and influenced by differ-
ent motives. Phalax was impelled by the
thought of glory and triumph ,- Abdael, by a
sense of duty. The issue of the story will
show that the first is a wavering principle,
beaming brightly for a time, like a full lamp,
but soon exhausted, and finally going out at
the moment of utmost need; while the oth-
er is like a heaven-set star, ever in the same
place, and ever leading its votary on in the
straight and narrow path of wisdom and
safety.
Phalax and his companions dashed on
with great ardor, taking the road that led
through a series of beautiful valleys. The
first day they travelled with the utmost ra-
pidity and diligence, and at evening found
themselves far advanced in their journey;
but, on the morrow, they were all stiff and
sore ; and the horses were not a little jaded.
The next day they went but a short distance,
and stopped for the night at a little village.
Near by was the palace of a prince, who,
hearing of their arrival, invited them to come
and see him. Now, the young men knew


12 RIGHT IS MIGHT; on,
that this prince was a great hypocrite, and
that, und'er the guise of friendship to the
Khan, he nourished the most deadly hostility.
Prudence would have dictated a polite refus-
al of the invitation, but they were anxious
to enjoy the luxuries of the palace; so they
said: “ This act of the prince is too gracious
a piece of courtesy to be slighted;” and
therefore they went to the palace. Here
they were entertained with great splendor.
A rich banquet was provided, with music and
wine, and dancing, and other festivities.
The young men entered heartily into the
pleasures of the scene. Phalax drank deep-
ly, and, when he was about to put another
_goblet to his lips, one of his more discreet
companions said, in a whisper, “Beware!
remember your message ; remember your
father’s counsel: ‘ Glory and success.’ ”
U “You are a fool,” said Phalax, already
partially intoxicated; “I am not so much a
dastard as to take a dastard’s advice!” and
saying this, he drank off the goblet, and, in a
short time, fell stupefied beneath the table.
While this was the state of the leader of
the party, the rest were little better. They


THE RIVAL MESSENGER5.
drank deeply, and, passing into the gardens,
where were walks, and fountains, and flow-
ers, and everything to delight the senscs,
they spent the remainder of the night in
debauchery.
It was not till late the third day after the
scene we have described, that Phalax and
his friends awoke from the deep sleep into-
which they fell, after their dissipation; for.-
the ‘wine they had drunk, had an infusion its
it of a sleepy drug. This had been con-
trived by the command of the deceitful?
prince, who, under pretence of hospitality,
took this method of thwarting the purpose-
of the messengers.
Thus Phalax and his party lost two entire
days ; yet they did not know it. When they-
recovered, they had their horses saddled, and
set out again on their journey. But they
were all weary, enfeebled, and out of humor..
For some time they rode on in silence..
They then began to grumble at one thing
and another. At last, the young man who‘
had been insulted by Phalax at the table,
spoke to him on the subject. The latter
denied the truth of the charge, and insinu-


‘rm: RIVAL MESSENGERS. I5
improperly to you. Arise, my dear friend,
and tell me you forgive me.” “It is in
vain,” said the youth. “I forgive you, but
I die.” Saying this, he breathed his last.
Phalax_ being of royal blood, had been
brought Lp to think that all mankind were
made for princes, and might be used as their
passions or pleasures should dictate. He did
not feel, therefore, as if he had committed a
great crime, or slain one who had the same
rights with himself; he had only taken the
life of an inferior. He however mourned
for his friend, and felt much ashamed of his
impetuosity and want of self-government.
He said little, but determined to be more
prudent in future. With this resolve he
proceeded on his journey.
We cannot trace all the adventures of
Phalax and his party. It is sufiicient to say,
that they were so confident of reaching the
capital before their rivals, that they did not
deem it necessary to be either prudent or
industrious. They knew that the route of
Abdael was not only more diflicult and dan-
gerous, but more circuitous ; and, besides all
this, they believed that, even if their rival


16 RIGHT IS MIGHT; on,
should deliver the message first, the Khan
would bestow the honor upon Phalax and
his party, in consideration of their rank.
And, finally, if even this should fail, and if,
as they said among themselves, “the king
should have such bad taste as to prefer a
plebeian to a prince; Why, at least, we have
noble blood in our veins; and that‘ is an
advantage we shall ever enjoy: Abdael can-
not be a prince or a nobleman ! ”
Thus offering apologies for their negli-
gence, and fortifying themselves in their
folly, the party proceeded, forgetting the
great object of their expedition in the in-
dulgence of the various passions which
tempted them by the way. It was the love
of glory that had been presented to the
imagination of Phalax, as the motive to
action. This was a selfish passion, and gave
way the moment another passion, a little
stronger, took possession of the breast. The
desire of ease, the desire of wine, the desire
of dissipation, the desire of pleasure, often
mastered the desire of glory, and made
the young leader of the party forget it, and
the means by which it was to be obtained.


Tl-IE RIVAL MESSESGERS. I7
I
Besides all this, it must be remembered that
in their debauchery at the prince’s palace, a.
deception had been practised upon them,
and precious time had slipped unreckoned
away, thus leaving them in a state of de-
lusion.
We must now turn to Abdael and his
companions. Soon after they set out, Ma-
lek, an old soldier, rode to his side, and said:
“It is a hard lot, my young master, to have
the longer route and the more mountainous
path; what do you intend_to do?” “My
duty, and trust in Heaven!” said Abdael.
“I had no doubt of it,” said Malek, and,
apparently satisfied, he rode on.
The party did not attempt to urge their
horses. They proceeded slowly but steadily,
and stopped for the night, after having per-‘
formed but a very moderate journey. The-
next day they did the same, and so on the-
third and fourth day. The greatest care was»
taken of the horses at night; and the men-
were particular to avoid every species of ex-
cess. They abstained from wine altogether,
for Abdael feared that they might be be»
trayed into indiscretion or licentiousness..
2


13 RIGHT IS MIGHT; on,
They were obliged to keep their arms con-
stantly in hand, for they were surrounded
with enemies.
It might have seemed, to a careless ob-
server, rather a dull party; but if any one
could have looked beneath their stern exte-
rior, and have seen their hearts, he would
have discovered a sober satisfaction there,
arising from the consciousness of performing
their duty. He would also have seen, that
even the dangers and difficulties which sur-
rounded them, became sources of agreeable
excitement.
Beside this, the feeling of mutual danger,
and the necessity of mutual support, created
a kindly feeling between the individuals;
and thus they were in fact, like so many
steadfast friends, united for common protec-
tion and defence. They were, therefore,
cheerful and happy. They had little hope
of reaching the capital in season to achieve
a triumph over Phalax, but they had, at
least, the satisfaction of feeling that even in
defeat, they would have the approbation of
their own consciences, and, perhaps, obtain
the respect of the king.


THE RIVAL MESSENGERS.
In a few days they reached rugged and
precipitous mountains, and now the necessity
of all their care, courage, and perseverance
became obvious. The road wound amid
deep and fearful valleys, crossed rapid
streams, threaded wild passes, traversed
ridges and peaks, which hung like curtains
of everlasting rock over the ravines below.
Although it was summer, these lofty regions
were covered with snow, and the wind was
as keen and chill as winter. _
Nor were the obstacles thus presented by
nature the only ones which beset the travel-
lers. One day, as they were pursuing their
route along the edge of a dizzy cliff, they
saw a party of Tartars on horseback, at a
little distance before them. They were
about twenty in number, and, as soon as
they were remarked, they vanished. In a
few minutes, however, they reappeared,
some in front and some in the rear of the
little party. On they came with the speed
of a snow-drift, threatening to hurl Abdael
and his friends over the precipice into the
gulf beneath, by the fury of their onset. But
the travellers were prepared; Malek and


20 RIGHT Is MIGHT; :3,
two soldiers turned back, and met the assail-
ants in the rear, and Abdael and one of his
friends faced the enemy in front.
The Tartars came close up to Abdael, as
if to push nim from the path, but such was
his steadiness, and that of the man at his
side, that the enemy recoiled, and stood still
at a little distance. The leader then brand-
ished his lance, and hurled it at Abdael:
The latter received it upon his sloping shield,
and, glancing off, it cut the air downward
into the glen. Abdael, in an instant, hurled
his spear at his enemy, and, true to the mark,
it entered the breast of the Tartar leader,
who reeled in his saddle, fell from his horse,
and rolled over the cliff. His body bounded
from rock to rock, and was lost to the sight
n the grisly shadows of the ravine !
This fearful scene took place in view of
both parties, and such was the panic created
in the Tartar troops, that they immediately
took to flight. Abdael and his men now
proceeded. In the evening, and at the foot
of the mountain, they reached a small town
situated in a lovely valley. Though tile
snow-capped peaks were so near, yet every


22 RIGHT Is MIGHT; on,
“ Thou art a wise youth,” said the prince,
“and I suspect there is much pride beneath
thy humility of speech. However, thou
shalt have thy way, only let thy men come
and partake of the feast we have provided.”
Abdael bowed, and the men came in.
They sat down to the table, which was
spread with every luxury the nicest palate
could desire. The travellers were worn and
weary, and they had now subsisted for a
long time on the coarsest food; but, taking
example from Abdael, theyate sparingly of
the simplest articles; and, avoiding the
sparkling wines, they drank water only.
This was noticed by the prince, who spoke
in an offended tone to Abdael: “I am
sorry, young soldier, that the wine pleases
thee not.” ~
“Forgive me, prince,” said Abdael, cour-
teously : “ it is not that I distrust the quality
of the wine; but, we are humble men, and
have little to boast of but our wits. Now,
wine is a great thief, and, should it steal our
wits away, we s_hould be poor indeed. It is
only those who are noble, and have some-
thing better than brains to boast of, that


THE RIVAL MESSENGERS. 23
can afford to drink wine and run the risk of
losing theii senses!”
“ By my beard ! ” said his royal highness,
“ this is a bold fellow: you curmudgeons are
too wise to make fools of yourselves, and
therefore you leave that to princes and no-
blesl Upon my word, this is courtly speech!
But, young man, perhaps you suspect the
wine to be drugged.”
“There is no need for him to suspect
the wine who has foresworn the cup!”
said Abdael.
“I am fairly answered,” said the prince.
Soon after, the feast was finished, and the
strangers were about to take their leave.
“A word with thee,” said the prince, to
Abdael ; and, taking him aside, he spoke as
follows: “ Your conduct, young soldier, has
impressed me favorably; may I ask an
honest answer to an honest question?"
“ Surely,” said Abdael.
“I see that thou hast some charm, which
gives thee wisdom above mankind in general.
Wilt thou tell me what it is that thus guides
thee, and makes thee superior to other men ,
which, indeed, makes a young soldier the


THE mvxr. MESSENGERS. 25
ilege, I can still perceive virtue and approve
it, in others.”
Abdael departed, and, with his compan_
ions, proceeded on his journey. They trav-
elled with great industry, but such were the
difficulties they encountered, that their pro-
gress was not rapid. They were sustained,
however, by hope, and seemed actually to
derive energy from the obstacles that beset
them. They_were usually in health; all
their faculties were in full exercise; their
limbs and their minds were vigorous and
active. They were also cheerful ; when there
was no pressing occasion for circumspection,
the laugh and the joke went round, and these
were all the better, that they were excited by
that kind of wit which springs from knowl-
edge and experience. Their very adventures
and dangers became to them the fruitful
sources of pleasing and lively reflections.
It was at the end of a month that Abdael
reached the capital. This was a short time
for performing the journey, and seldom, if
ever, had it been accomplished in so brief a
space ; but still he had every reason to sup-
pose that Phalax had arrived before him, and
3


<26 RIGHT Is MIGHT; on,
that he was going to a scene, rather of hu-
miliation than triumph. He entered the city
with a beating heart. His companions, as
well as himself, were silent. They went
straight to the palace, and found Phalax and
his party there. /\ They had arrived about an
hour before, and Abdael met them in the
hall of entrance, waiting an audience.
Phalax was admitted first. Genghis re-
ceived his message, and heard his story.
“You have been a long time,” said the
Khan, “in performing your journey. Was
no other messenger despatched P ”
“Yes, sire,” said Phalax, “Abdael was
sent by the route of the mountains.”
“ Has he arrived?” said the monarch.
“ This moment,” was the reply.
“ You arrived first?" said the king.
“ I did, sire,” said Phalax.
The young prince was now dismissed,
and, as he passed Abdael in the hall, he
darted upon him a look of insolent triumph.
The latter was immediately ushered into the
presence of the king. He told his story
briefly and modestly, and took his leave.
The next day the two young Inen were


O
THE mnr. massn scans 27
summoned before the Khan. As they both
stood in his presence, the king noticed the
calm but modest demeanor of Abdael, and
contrastco it with the evident doubt and fear,
which lay beneath a veil of assurance, upon
the face of Phalax. At last, Genghis spoke
as follows: —
“I have seen your companions, young
gentlemen, and learned the history of your
adventures from them. Phalax reached the
city first, but only by an hour; yet his route
was the easier by at least a fortnight. Let
him remember that success is not the evi-
dence of merit. He arrived before his rival,
yet he neglected his duty, and violated his
trust; nay, more, he has exalted himself in
his own account, beyond the truth: besides,
he has come with one of his party missing,
and he has not dared to tell the reason ! ”
The Khan looked keenly at the young
prince, who first reddened, then turned
pale, and finally kneeled before the mon-
arch. “Speak not!” said Genghis, stern-
ly, “I know it all; it had been better for
thee if thou hadst not glossed over thy
madness and folly, for confession may pal-


WIT AND WEALTH.
A GREAT many years ago, and in a far-off
country, there were two boys — one of them
was the son of the king, and bore the name
of Selim; the other was the child of a poor
man, and was called Bazeen.
Selim was brought up in luxury and per-
mitted to have his own way. He was
dressed in the richest silks, his ears were
decorated with jewels, and diamonds of
great price glittered upon every part of his
person. He was surrounded with servants,
who were attentive to his wishes, and prompt
to gratify every passion and caprice.
But while such pains were taken to amuse
the young prince and minister to his pleas-
ures, his education in most respects was
neglected. He was instructed in horseman-
ship, music, dancing, and military exercises,
but he had a contempt for books, and utterly
refused to learn to read. He seemed to
think it was enough to be a prince; that by


32 WIT AND WEALTH.
birth he was superior to all others. He
made, indeed, a mistake, common enough
among people of high fortune, in feeling that
the rank and condition in which he was born
gave him a right to claim superiority in every
respect over all aro Ind him. He forgot that
there is no royal road to learning; that the
prince as well as the plebeian must study to
acquire knowledge, and that a person with a
full purse may be a pauper with respect to
brains.
Young Bazeen was very different from all
this. His father, as we have said, was poor.
He had no jewels with which to decorate the
person of his son, nor could he do more in
respect to dress than to clothe him in the
plainest attire. But he had still the power
of giving his boy an education, for learning
was little prized in that country, and the
school-master undertook the education of
Bazeen for a very small compensation.
Thus, the boy was taught the learning of
that day, and among other things was made
acquainted with several different languages.
When the two youths we have described
were approaching the period of manhood,


wrr AND WEALTH. 33
I
they joined the army of their country and
went on an expedition against a distant
enemy. Bazeen was attached to Selim’s
corps, which consisted of a troop of horse,
and, though a private soldier, he attracted-
the notice of the youthful prince. They at
last met the enemy, and their army being
defeated in the terrible engagement which
followed, they were both taken and carried
into captivity.
The appearance of Selim marked him as
a person of some consequence, and he was
therefore ordered into the presence of the
king whose soldiers had made him prisoner.
Bazeen accompanied him as his attendant
The young prince had taken care to decorate
his person in the most costly manner, ex-
pecting in this way to dazzle the eyes of the
monarch, before whom he was to appear.
The two prisoners were soon led into the
presence of the sovereign. He received the
young prince graciously, and began to ask
him questions about the battle, and the
country from which he came. But he soon
perceived that Selim was ill-informed upon
these subjects, and that he was, in fact, defi-


34 wrr AND wsatxrn.
\’ - - . -
crent in intelligence and observation. He
then turned his attention to Bazeen, and put
nearly the same questions to him that he had
done to Selim. Bazeen answered modestly,
and with some hesitation, doubting whether
it was proper,to show himself superior in
knowledge to his royal master. The mon-
arch penetrated his feelings, and commanded
him to reply. The youth was therefore
forced to answer, and soon showed himself
to possess a great deal of knowledge.
“Bring me a book!” said the king to one
of his servants. The volume was brought
and handed to Selim; but he shook his
head disdainfully, and remarked, that, at his
father’s court, princes scorned the drudgery
of learning to read. “ Such tasks,” said he,
“ are reserved for our slaves. Give the book
to Bazeen, he can read 1” ‘
The lip of the monarch curled, but he did
not speak. The book was handed to Bazeen,
and he read the passage that was pointed out.
’ “It is well,” said the king, “ and now hear
my decree. Bazeen shall be my secretary,
for he has learning; and his mind, which is
the noblest part of man, fits him to be the


w1'r AND wr:.u,'ru. 35
companion of princes. Selim despises learn-
ing, and shows that while the body, the
inferior part, is glittering with jewels, he has
still a base and grovelling mind! Selim is
at heart a slave, and slavery shall be his
doom. This is my decree.”
The sentence of the king was put into im-
mediate execution. Bazeen was raised to a
high station in the palace, and Selim was
compelled to perform the meanest ofiices of
the household. But the former was scarcely
less unhappy than the latter. He executed
his duties faithfully, but he did not enter
heartily into the service of a king who was
the enemy of his country. The condition of
Selim was also a constant source of misery
to him. He therefore entered into a scheme
for efi"ecting the escape of his young master
and his own. In endeavoring to carry this
into execution, they were both detected and
thrown into prison.
It was some consolation to the two youths
that they were permitted to be together, but
after they had been confined for several
months, time hung heavily on their hands.
Their dungeon consisted of a small room,


36 wrr AND WEALTH.
with scarcely a ray of light. Selim soon
sunk into a miserable state of despair. He
was permitted to retain his jewels, but how
worthless were they now! They seemed,
indeed, to mock his degradation, and even to
embitter his misery. But Bazeen had jewels
of another kind--those of the mind, which
could even illuminate the darkness, and were
of inestimable value in the dungeon. They
enabled him to support his confinement; his
range of knowledge furnished him with con-
stant sources of thought, reflection, and emo-
tion. He was thus not only able to keep his
own mind in a cheerful state, but he often
communicated the light of his spirit to that
of his dejected companion.
A ycar had now passed, when at last the
jailer in making his rounds entered the apart-
ment, attended by a person holding a lamp
in one hand, and a scroll in the other. The
latter addressed the prisoners as follows:
“I am instructed by the king, my master, to
present to you this writing, and he that can
read it. is pardoned, and permitted to return
to his own country.” Upon this he held out
the paper, first to the prince and then to Ba-


wrr AND waxtxrn. 3'7
zeen. The latter ran his eye over it, but
shook his head, saying, “_It is a hard task
you give us; we have been confined in a
dungeon for a year, and now you bring us a
light whichdazzles our eyes. Leave us the
lamp for an hour, and when we are accus-
tomed to the light, return and put us upon
the trial.”
The messenger of the king acceded to
this proposition, and departed. As soon as
he was gone, Bazeen, who had read the
paper, told Selim the precise words it con-
tained. He made him repeat them again
and again, until they were fixed in his
memory.
At the time appointed the messenger re-
turned. Selim took the paper, and repeated
the words it contained, thus seeming to read
it accurately. He was therefore released
from the prison, and, taking leave of Bazeen,
departed from the dungeon. He was taken
before the king, where Bazeen also was sum-
moned. “I have heard the story of your
wit,” said he to the latter, “and you have
used it generously In behalf of your master.
He shall have his liberty, for T havetpromisedl


38 wrr AND wt: ALTH-
it; and you shall accompany him. He may
depart; but let him carry with him the con-
sciousness that Wit is better than Wealth,
and the mind infinitely more worthy of
decoration than the person.”



PREJUDICE
Anonc the hardy pioneers who first settled
along the borders of the Ohio, was an Eng-
lishman, with two sons. These were twins,
and his only children. He was half hus-
bandman and half hunter, and the two boys
followed his double vocation. They were
seldom separated, and never seemed happy
but in each other’s society. If one was en-
gaged in any employment, the other must
share it. If one took his rifle, and plunged
into the forest in pursuit of the wild deer,
the other, as a matter of course, took his,
and became his companion. They thus
grew up together, participating in each
other’s pleasures, and fatigues, and dangers.
They were therefore united, not only by the
ties of kindred and a common home, but by
a thousand recollections of sylvan sports, and
wild adventures, and hair-breadth escapes,
enjoyed or experienced in each other’s com
l‘*‘")'


0
4

 __ L
4'
"H ‘V
E
I


riu‘zmnica. 41
About the time that these brathers were
entering upon manhood, the French and
Indian war broke out along our western fron-
tier. In one of the bloody skirmishes that
soon followed, the father and the two sons
were engaged. The former was killed, and
one of the twins, being taken by the French
troops, was carried away.
The youth that remained, returned after
the fight to his father’s home; but it was to
him a disconsolate and desolate spot. His
mother had been dead for years: his father
was slain, and his only brother—he that
was bound to him by innumerable ties, was
taken by the enemy and carried away, he
knew not whither. But it seemed that he
could not live in separation from him. Ac--
cordingly, he determined to visit Montreal,
where he understood his brother had been‘
taken ; but, about this time, he was told that.
he had died of wounds received in the skir--
mish which had provrd fatal to the father,.
and brought captivity to the son.
The young man, therefore, for a time-
abandoned himself to grief; but at last he-
went to Marietta, and after a few years was-
4


42 PREJUDICE.
married and became the father of several
children. But the habits and tastes of his
early life were still upon him, and after some
years he migrated farther into the wilderness,
and settled down upon the banks of the
Sandusky River. Here he began to fell the
trees and clear the ground, and had soon a
farm of cultivated land suflicient for all his
wants.
But the forester was still a moody and dis-
contented man. His heart was indeed full
of kindness to his family; but the death of
his brother had left a blank in his bosom,
which nothing seemed to fill. Time, it is
true, gradually threw its veil over early
memories, and softened the poignancy of
regret for the loss of a brother that had
seemed a part of himself, and whose happi-
ness was dearer than his own. But still, that
separation had given a bias to his mind and
a cast to his character, which no subsequent
cvent, or course of circumstances could
change. He was at heart a solitary man;
yearning, indeed, for the pleasures of society,
yet always keeping himself aloof from man-
kind. He had planted himself in the wilder-


PREJUDICIL 43
ness, far from any other settlement, as if
purposely burying himself in the tomb of the
forest.
There wasone trait which strongly marked
the character of this man; and that was, a
detestation of every thing French. This,
doubtless, originated in the fact, that his
brother’s captivity and death were chargeable
to the French army, and he naturally enough
learned to dislike every thing that could be
associated with the cause of that event which
darkened his whole existence. A striking
evidence of this deep and bitter prejudice,
was furnished by the manner in which the
forester treated a Frenchman who lived on
the opposite side of the Sandusky River, and
who was, in fact, the only person that could
be esteemed his neighbor. Being divided by
a considerable river, the two men were not
likely to meet except by design; and as the
Frenchman was advised of the prejudice of
his neighbor against his countrymen, there
was no personal intercourse between them.
Thus they lived for many years, their
families sometimes meeting; but quarrel and
altercation almost invariably ensued upon


44 PREJUDICE
such occasions. In all these cases, it was
the custom of the farmer to indulge in harsh
reflections upon the French character, and
each action of his neighbor was commented
upon with bitterness. Every unfavorable
rumor touching the Frenchman’s character,
however improbable, was readily believed;
and his actions, that deserved commendation
rather than blame, were distorted into evil,
by misrepresentation, or the imputation of
bad motives.
Thus these two families, living in the soli-
tude of the mighty forest, and impelled, it
would seem, by the love of sympathy and
society, to companionship, were still separa-
ted by a single feeling—that of prejudice.
The two men, so far as they knew, had never
met, and had never seen each other, but
that strange feeling of the human breast,
that judges without evidence and decides
without consulting truth or reason, parted
them like a brazen wall. Under circum-
stances, in which every thing around might
seem to enforce kindness upon the heart;
even here, amid the majesty 6f nature’s
primeval forest, and away from the ferment


PREJUDICE. 45
of passions engendered amid towns and
villages; to this lone spot the tempter had
also migrated, and put into the bosom of
man the serpent of an evil passion.
Thus things passed, till the two men had
numbered nearly eighty years. At last, the
rumor came to the farmer that the French-
man was dying--and it was remarked that
a smile, as of pleasure, passed over his fur-
rowed face. Soon after, a messenger came,
saying that the dying Frenchman wished to
see his neighbor, and begging him, in the
name of Heaven, to comply with his request.
Thus urged, the old man took his staff, pro-
ceeded to the river, and being set across in
a boat, advanced toward the Frenchman’s
cabin. As he approached it, he saw the aged
man reclining upon a bed of bear-skins, be-
neath a group of trees, near his house. By
his side were his children, consisting of
several grown-up men and women. They
were kneeling, and in tears, but as the farmer
approached, they rose, and at a sign from
their dying father, stood a little apart, while
the stranger approached. The Frenchman
held out his hat d, and said in a feeble voice‘


46 PREJUDICE.
“Brother—I am dying—let us part in
peace.”
Our old farmer took the cold hand, and
tears—-unwonted tears--coursed down his
cheeks. For a moment he could not speak.
But at last he said: “My friend, you speak
English--and you call me brother. I
thought you was a Frenchman, and I have
ever esteemed a Frenchman as an enemy.
And God knows I have cause—for I had
once a brother, indeed. He came into life
at the same hour as myself —for we were
twins: and all our early days were passed in
undivided companionship. Our hearts were
one, for we had no hopes or fears, no wants
or wishes, no pleasures or pastimes, that
were not mutually shared. But in an evil
hour I was robbed of that brother by the
French army. My father fell in the fight,
and since that dark day, my life has been
shadowed with sorrow.”
A convulsion seemed to shake the emacia-
ted form of the sick old man, and for a time
he could not speak. At last, he faltered
forth: “ Have you never seen your brother
since that day ? ”


PREJUDICE. 47
“ Never!” said the other.
“Then you see him, here!” said the
Frenchman ; and, falling backward upon his
couch of skins, a slight tremor ran over his
frame, and he was no more. _
The explanation of the scene was this.
The lifeless man was indeed the brother of
the farmer. After being taken by the French
troops, as has been related, he was conducted
to Montreal, where he was detained for
nearly two years. After his release, he re-
traced his steps to his former home, on the
banks of the Ohio, but found his birthplace
deserted: he also learned the death of his
father and the departure of his brother. For
years he sought the latter in vain, and at last
returned to Montreal. Here he married, and
after some years removed, with a numerous
family, to the borders of the Sandusky. He
at length discovered that his nearest neighbor
was his brother; but, having found himself
repulsed as a Frenchman, and treated rather
like a robber than a friend, a feeling of
injury and dislike had arisen in his breast;
and therefore he kept the secret in his bosom


48 PREJUDICE.
\
till it was spoken in the last moments of
existence. j
Thus it happened, in the tale we have
told, that prejudice, obstinately indulged, pre-
vented the discovery of an important truth,
and kept the mind that was the subject of
it wrapped in gloom and sorrow for years,
which might otherwise have been blessed by
the realizing of its fondest hopes and wishes.
And thus prejudice often prevents a man
from discovering that the object of his dis-
like, could he see and know him as he is, is
indeed a man :5’rand, as such, a brother.


/X‘
.5’
I


PETER AND THE PIG.
Tnaan was once a youth, who, being born
in poverty, was brought up to labor for his
living; but being of an indolent turn, he fell
this to be a great hardship. He was also as
unwilling to study his books, as he was to
perform other tasks. He hated all exertion ;
and seemed, indeed, to think that toil was
the only curse, and idleness the only bliss.
If he was not the same youth, who, when
asked what he deemed the highest state of
happiness, replied: “Swinging on a gate,
with one’s mouth full of molasses candy,”
he was, still, of much the same way of
thinking.
Now lazy Peter, as he was called, went
one day to feed the pig. The animal was
very fat, and even when he heard the corn
rattle into his trough, he only uttered a deli-
cate, affected grunt, pricked’ up his ears,
wagged his tail, and kept his place. Peter
looked into the sty, and beheld, with un-


52 PETER AND THE PIG.
At night, Peter went to bed as usual, but
the scene of the pig-sty had made such an
impression upon his mind, that it stole in
among the visions of his sleep. He dreamed
that he was sauntering along upon a Ihigh-
way, and bound upon some long journey.
Weary at length, he sat down and began to
grumble at the necessity of travelling such a
distance, and over such a tiresome road.
While he was thus occupied, a fairy came to
him, and said: “Peter, I have heard your
complaints, and have come to remove them.
Yo_u think it hard to travel this road, though
its borders are decorated with flowers;
though it leads through delightful regions,
and finally terminates in a happy home,
where friends gather around to minister to
every want, and gratify every desire. Your
ditficulty is, that you must take the trouble
to pick the flowers, to visit these happy re-
gions, to travel to this final home of peace.
Well, you shall have your way; you desire
idleness, and deem that this is bliss. I have
a sty, in which is the fattest pig you ever
saw; you shall be his companion, share his
.—==-vi-i _.’-


PETER AND THE Pro. 53
bed and board, and thus find the fulfilment
of your wishes!”
Strange as it may seem, Peter accepted
the offer, and was soon domesticated in the
sty. For a time, he enjoyed himself to the
utmost: to be sure, the perfume of the place
offended him a little at first, but the luxury
of having nothing to do but to eat and sleep,
prevailed over every other feeling, and he
deemed himself perfectly happy.
Thus time rolled on, until one night he
chanced to hear certain ominous preparations
going on without the sty. He heard the
rolling of a large tub, and chanced to hear
the mistress of the place giving directions
to a man to butcher her two pigs the next
morning! “ Two pigs! ” said Peter to him-
self: “and so I am one of them; but I’ll
give them the slip!” He waited till all
around was quiet, and then attempted to rise,
for the purpose of making his escape. But,
alas! he was so fat and unwieldly, and the
fence was so high, that he could by no
possibility get out of the pen. And there
was one thing which struck him with abso-
lute horror: he now perceived that he had


54 PETER AND THE PIG. _
four legs, cloven feet, a long snout, and a
tail! Nor was this all; tall, wiry bristles
stood up along his ‘back; his sides were
coated with coarse hair, and while he tugged
to get out of his prison, he grunted like his
companion. “I am, at last, a pig, then I ”
said Peter; “and yet, I am not altogether a
pig. I know more than this lazy beast by
my side; I know what is to happen to-
morrow ; and, while he is at rest, I am in an
agony of fear. I wish I were really a pig,
for then I should know no fear, and the
butcher’s knife would finish tne. But it is
really horrible, to have the mind of a human
being, and the body and habits of a hog.”
Poor Peter, in the agony of his dream,
made a great outcry, but it was like the
squealing of a pig; the fairy heard it, how-
ever, and came at the call. “What is the
matter?” said she. “Let me out! let me
out!” said Peter, in his frenzy. “I can’t
let you out,” said the fairy: “you weigh at
least fifteen score, and beside, you are a pig,
now; for you must know that if a human
being adopts swinish habits, and keeps
swinish company, he gradually becomes


56 PETER AND THE PIG.
he uttered a piercing shriek, and, in the
paroxysm of his distress, he awoke ! It was,
however, a lucky dream ; for the youth took
warning by it, and, conquering his indolence,
he became industrious, and grew up a pros-
perous and happy man.
Reader, if thou art given to indolence,
take heed by Peter’s dream; and, like him,
turn from the error of thy ways. Deem not
that indolence is bliss; believe, rather, that
the ways of industry are ways of pleasant-
ness, and all her paths are peace.


GHOST STORIES.
ONE cold winter evening, three boys hap-
pened to be together, named James, Henry,
and Stephen. They sat by the blazing
hearth—for I am telling of what happened
in the old-fashioned days of broad flues and
hickory fuel—wilhout candles, for the light
of the burning logs was suflicient to give the
room a cheerful aspect. Out of doors the
air was keen and bitter, and though the
moon shone brightly, the light snow-wreaths
were driving on the wind, and occasionally
came in spouts against the windows, rattling
like sleet upon the panes. _
The boys, naturally enough, talked of the
weather for a time, and then of the news,
and finally of other topics. At last, it was
proposed that one of them should tell a
story. The scene can be best described in
the way of dialogue.
James. Come, Henry, tell us a story
I
Henry. Well, you tell one first.


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cnosr sroruns. 59
7
J. O, I m not good at telling a story.
H. Won’t you tell one, Stephen ?
Stephen. I’ll tell one after you. A
H. What shall I tell about? ’
S. O, any thing—tell a ghost story.
H. Well, I will tell a ghost story.
There was once a house near New Lon-
don, in Connecticut, situated on a lonely
road, about a mile from any other dwelling.
The man who built it was a farmer; and
here he lived, with his wife and two children,
for three years, when at last they began to
hear a bell faintly ringing at night, ap-
parently in the walls of the house.
Not much was thought of it at first, but
it was so frequently repeated, that it began
to attract the attention of the tamily. They
then listened, and every night, about nine
o’clock, the ringing commenced. The people
were somewhat superstitious, and soon began
to be frightened. When they went to the
spot where the mysterious sound seemed to
come from, it appeared to issue from another
place.—Sometimes it was quick and liwiely,
and again it was slow, and apparently at :1
distance. At one time it seemed to be lfl


60 onosr sronrns.
the parlor, and then it was in one corner of
the kitchen.
The family became more and more
alarmed; when the night set in, they
gathered close together, and as soon as the
ringing began, their faces grew pale, and
they either sat in fearful silence, or whis-
pered to each other: “there it is! there
it is! ”
Thus matters went on for several months,
until at last the farmer and his family became
so miserable that they sold the place, and
removed to another town. He had not said
much about the cause of his removal, for he
feared people would laugh at him; and, be-
sides, he apprehended that the story might
injure the character of the house, and thus
prevent his selling it at a fair price.
But, by some means or other, after he had
gone, the story got about, and for nearly two
years the house was unoccupied. During
this period it acquired the name of the
“haunted house,” which, together with its
lonely situation, rendered it difiicult for the
person who had bought it, to find any one
willing to hire it. But at last a person who
i
l
l
_


euosr s1-omrzs. 61
did not believe in haunted houses, leased
the place, and with his family went there to
reside.
For about a month they heard nothing of
the awful visitor, and feeling quite secure
against his return, they were accustomed to
make sport of the fears of their predecessors.
But while they were actually cracking their
jokes upon the subject one winter night
about the hour of nine, there was a sudden
tinkling of a bell, distinctly heard, as if in
one of the rooms above!
There was a sudden start among all
present. “Hark! hark!” was whispered
by several voices. They listened intently;
all was silent as death, when again the bell
was heard, apparently more distant, but still
as distinct as before! The cheeks of the
wife and children grew pale, and the face of
the man himself was touched with a kind of
awe.
“It is certainly a bell,” said he, “ and no
ghost.”
“But who rings it?” replied his wife,
drawing her chair close to his, and shivering
from fear ; “ who rings it?”


62 ’ orros'r sronrns
“I cannot tell, my dear,” said he, “but
we will try to find out.” Accordingly he
took a candle, and followed the sound from
one room to another. He heard it distinctly,
though faintly, sometimes near, and some-
times far; but he could by no means detect
the cause. At last the sound ceased, and
the distracted family went to rest.
The next night the same scene occurred.
At the hour of nine, the frightful notes is-
sued again, as if from the very walls of the
room, and, exciting the fears of all, still
bafiled every attempt to discover the cause.-
Unlike the former proprietor, who believed
that some ghost or spirit caused the bell to
ring, the present occupant rejected such a
notion as absurd ; and though a cold, creep-
ing sensation would sometimes chill his
blood, still he took every opportunity to
detect, if possible, the truth.
While he was one evening sitting by the
fire, the tinkling sound was heard more
distinctly than usual, and instead of issuing
from the wall, undefined and spirit-like, it
seemed now to come distinctly from a cup-
board in one corner of the room. The man


I
or-ros'r STORIES. 63
arose, went to the cupboard, and opened the
door. Instantly a small hand-bell fell from
a crevice in the wall over the cupboard,
upon the floor. It had a small string tied
to it, and it was now discovered, that by this
string the rats were accustomed to pull about
the bell, in their gambols, thus creating the
tinkling sound, which seemed to issue from
the walls, and possess the awful and myste-
rious character, which had occasioned so
much terror and distress. .
S. Well, that’s a good story; and it puts
me in mind of one which I heard Captain
Lewis Smith tell. It happened when he was
somewhere in the Jerseys fighting the Revo-
lution, as he calls it. It seems there was a
Sergeant Kitely, who, when he returned to
the camp one night, declared that he had
seen a spirit. He was evidently frightened,
for his teeth chattered as if he were half
dead with cold, and for a long time he could
not muster sufficient courage to tell the story.
At last he was prevailed upon to relate it,
which he did as follows:-—
“ It was a raw, blustering night,” said he,
“ when I had occasion to walk down a lane,


U
64 (;rtos'r s'1‘ontt~:s.
to the house of an old woman by the name
of Warlock, who washes for the regiment.
It was dark, and I had some difiiculty in
finding the place. At last I found it, and
knocked at the door,—but there was no
answer returned; I lifted the latch, but I
could see nobody in the house. The fire
was out, but in a corner of the room, under
the bed, were two bright, fiery balls, which
I knew to be the eyes of a cat, but they
seemed to be twice as large as common.
“ This made me a little skittish, for I then
happened to remember that the old beldam
herself was reputed to be a witch; and I
thought to myself that perhaps, after all, it
was she, sitting there under the bed, rolling
up her fiery eyes at me, and pretending to be
a cat. As I thought this, the eyes seemed
to grow bigger and bigger. I then shut the
door, and prepared to run.
“Just as I was about to start, I saw a
thing as white as the driven snow, and in the
shape of an old woman, flying and flapping
in the air, and lifting up her arms, and
seeming to threaten me in the most awful
manner. I tried to run, but my feet stuck


orrosr sroaras. 65
to the ground. I should have screamed, but
my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth,
and my hair rose up so as to throw my hat
off my head.
“Howl contrived to pick it up I cannot
say, but I heard the footsteps of some one
near, and this 1 believe gave me courage. I
caught my hat, and ran as fast as my legs
would carry me. A voice called after me,
but I felt as light as a feather, and bounded
forward like a schoolboy’s ball, with a stur-
geon’s nose in the centre. It seems to me
that I went two rods at every step, and so I
soon reached the barrack. But if I live to
the age of Methuselah, I shall never forget
the fiery eyeballs of the cat, or how old
Dame Warlock leaped up and down in the
heavens, seeming to me as tall as a steeple.”
This was the substance of Kitely’s marvel-
lous story. But, as soon as it was told,
Captain Smith burst into a loud laugh. This
made the sergeant very angry; whereupon
the captain proceeded to say that it was he
himself who called after him at the door of
old Dame Warlock; and that the ghost he
saw was only a shirt which she had washed
6


66 cnosr STORIES.
and hung to a clothes-line, and, the night
being windy, it was frolicking in the gale,
and jumping up and down, just as the ser-
geant had described. This explanation ex-
cited a laugh among the company, and
though it was at the expense of the sergeant,
he seemed really glad to be thus relieved of
his terror.
J. Very good, very good indeed, though I
can hardly conceive how any one could take
a piece of linen for an old woman. _
II. Why, I suppose it was because the
man’s imagination was excited; he had, no
doubt, a touch of superstition in him, and
this it was that deceived him. A person
who is superstitious—one who believes in
ghosts and witches,’and such things—is
very likely to fancy that he sees them. Such
a one is always meeting with wonders, par-
ticularly at night: a stump, a post, abush,
to his eye, has arms, legs, eyes, and ears;
nay, it generally moves about, and often
seems to do more than mortals are able to
perform.
S. Then you don’t believe in ghosts?
H. Not at all. I believe that all the ghost


cnosr sroauzs. 67
stories are either the inventions of wicked
people, or the delusions of indulged and ill-
directed imagination—fancies of those who
have first been led to adopt false opinions,
and have then become the dupes of these
opinions.
S. You are quite a philosopher; but let
me tell you a tale of one who was as in-
credulous as yourself. There was once a
physician in Connecticut, who was obliged
to stay late at night with one of his patients.
It was past one o’clock when he mounted
his horse to return home. It was a cold,
clear winter’s night, and the moon shone
with uncommon brilliancy.
The physician had occasion to pass by a
small, but lonely graveyard, situated at the
farther extremity of a field, near the road.
As he was passing by, he cast his eye toward
the graveyard ; and what was his amazement
to see a figure, as if of a woman, clothed
in dazzling white, proceeding slowly across
the field toward the little group of tomb-
tones!
It was almost as light as day, and it
appeared impossible that the seeming vision


‘ caosr sromas. 69
an indescribable air of melancholy. \Vith a.
resolute step he advanced and laid his hand
upon the shoulder of the figure. It screamed
and fell to the earth !
The physician lifted the form from the
ground, and discovered it to be a woman
whom he knew, and whose child had died
three days before. It had been interred in
the little burial-ground, and in her sleep the
mother had walked across the snowy fields,
wrapped in a sheet, to visit the spot where
her infant reposed!
H. So, so, Master Stephen, your story,
after all, but confirms my theory—that
these tales of ghosts are only tales of
illusion.
S. True, true; and I agree that your
theory of the matter is right. In ancient
days, there, no doubt, was such a thing as
witchcraft; but there is nothing of the kind
now, and we may be sure that he who tells
a tale of ghosts, is no more to be believed
than he who tells a tale of impossibilities.


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THE FAIRY MONITOR.
In a pleasant valley, between two hills,
there once lived a beautiful fairy, by the
name of Echo. The place was very plea-
ant, for a bright river swept through the
valley, beneath trees with long branches
overshadowing its waters. There were many
flowers scattered along its banks, some with
graceful forms, and others with brilliant
colors. The air was filled with sweet per-
fumes, and the voice of musical birds was
heard on every side. We need not wonder
that, in a place so pleasant, the pretty fairy
should have chosen her abode, and that she
was ever found at home. But one of her pe-
culiarities was tnis— that whenever a person
spoke in a loud voice in the valley, the sound
was caught up by the fairy, and repeated to
the rocks and hills around.
Now, it happened that there was a little
boy who lived near this valley, who was very


72 THE FAIRY MONITOR.
passionate. One day he went to this place,
where Echo lived, with one of his compan-
ions, and for a long time was busily engaged
in picking flowers along the margin of the
little stream. He was so intent upon this,
that he wandered. away from his playmate,
and at length was lost amid the trees and
shrubs. He now became alarmed, and not
being able to see his companion in any
direction, he called for him in a very angry
tone of voice. The fairy immediately imi-
tated the sound, and repeated it to the
woods, hills, and waters of the valley.
The little boy thought, at first, that this
was his companion, mocking him, and it
made him very angry. He then called out
louder than before, and used some very
harsh expressions, finishing with the word
“ rascal.” These were all" faithfully spoken
by the fairy, and particularly the last word,
which was uttered again and again, until
even the most distant rocks and woods
seemed to repeat it. This startled the boy
very much, for it appeared. all at once, that
every thing around, even the woods and
hills, were calling him a rascal.
_


74 THE FAIRY MONITOR. _
truly as the Echo of the valley will repeat
the loud words spoken in her ear.”
Saying this, the little fairy took hold of
the boy’s hand, led him out of the wood,
and, pointing toward his home, vanished
into air.


“DON’T GIVE UP THE SHIP!”
DURING the last war with England, a bloody
battle was fought between the British vessel
of war Shannon and the American vessel
Chesapeake. This took place in the waters
off Boston harbor.
In a short time, the Chesapeake was terri-
bly cut to pieces, and many of the men were
killed and wounded. The commander, Cap-
tain Lawrence, was himself mortally wound-
ed; but, while he was dying, he exclaimed,
“D0n’t give up the ship! ” These striking
words have passed into a proverb, and noth-
ing is more common than to hear people say,
when they wish to inspire those who are in
difliculty with a new stock of courage and
energy, “Don’t give up the ship!” Now,
such little sentences, take the whole World
together, produce an immense deal of effect;
for very often a person about to despair
has taken new courage from saying to him-
I


1>oN"r GIVE UP THE SHIP. 77
Self,—or having it said to him,--“Don’t
give up the ship!” I am going to tell you a
story which may show an instance of this.
Richard Dribb]e—-familiarly called Dick
Dribble—was a poor boy, about eleven
years old, who was put out to a farmer to go
to school, and do chores at odd hours. I
need not describe his appearance particularly,
for his portrait is on the preceding page;
but I must tell you that Dick was rather dis-
posed to be lazy and idle. He was a good-
natured fellow, but he hated exertion, and
was even too indolent to keep himself tidy.
He therefore had always a kind of neglected,
shabby, and shiftless look.
Well, it was winter, and one day Dick
was sent of an errand. The distance he had
to go was two or three miles, and his way
led through some deep woods. Dick had a
great coat, but he was too lazy to put it on,
and, though the weather was bitter cold, he
set off without it. He had not gone far be-
fore he began to shiver like a pot of jelly ; —
but still he kept on. After a while it began
to snow; and pretty soon Dick’s neck and
bosom were almost filled with it, though some


THE UNFAITHFUL SLRVANT.
A CERTAIN duke, of Scotland, in one of his
walks, chanced one day to see a very fine
cow. Having ascertained to whom the ani-
mal belonged, he Went to the owner, and
offered him a handsome price for her. For
a time the latter hesitated, but at length ac-
cepted it, and promised to drive the animal
to the duke’s residence the next morning.
Not finding it convenient to go himself,
the farmer sent his boy to drive the cow.
On approaching the house, the animal ap-
peared frightened, and refused to proceed.
At the time, the duke happened to be walk-
ing at a short distance, and the boy, not
knowing who he was, craved his assistance,
in his Scotch brogue.
“ Heh, mun, come here, an’ gie’s a han’
wi’ this beast.”
The duke, perceiving the boy’s mistake,
pursued his walk, without appearing to un-


B2 THE UNFAITHFUL snnvAnr.
derstand it. In the mean time, the cow be-
came still more unmanageable; upon which the
lad, with a tone of apparent distress, cried out,
“ Come here, mun, and as sure’s anything,
I’ll gie ye the hauf o’ what I get.”
Pleased with the boy’s manner, and es-
pecially with his generosity, the duke now
stepped forward as requested, and lent a
helping hand. 
“ And now,” said the duke, as they drove
the cow forward, “how much do you think
you will get for this job?”‘
“ O, I dinna ken,” said the boy, “but I’m
sure o’ something, for the folk up bye at the
house are guid to a’bodies.”
As they approached the house, the duke
darted by the boy, and, entering by a private
way, called a servant, and putting a sover-
eign into his hand, bade him give it to the
boy that drove the cow.
The duke now returned to the avenue,
and was soon rejoined by the boy.
“Well, and how much did you get, my
lad P ” inquired the duke. ‘
“A shilling,” said the boy, “and there’!
half o’t t’ye ”


THE UNFAITHFUL saaviuvr. 83
“ A shilling! ” rejoined the duke: “only a
shilling! You got more!”
“No, I dinna,” said the boy with great
earnestness; “as sure’s death, that’s a’ I
get, and d’ye no think it plenty?”
“I do not,” said the duke; “there must
be some mistake; and as I am acquainted
with the duke, if y0u’ll return with‘ me, I’ll
get you some more money.”
The boy consented, and back they went.
The duke rang the bell, and ordered all the
servants to be assembled.
“ Now,” said the duke to the boy, “ point
out to me the person that gave you the
shilling.”
“It was the chap there wi’ the white
apron,” said the boy, pointing to the butler.
“ You villain !” said the duke.
The butler fell upon his knees, and con-
fessed the wicked act.
“ Give the boy the sovereign, and immedi-
ately leave my house! ” said the duke.
The butler implored.
“ No,” said the duke, “ you are no longer
to be trusted. You have been detected in
an act of villany which renders you unfit to


SNOW—BALLING.
“Huimiin, boys--school’s out! come!
let’s choose sides and have a snow-balling ! "_
At this challenge, the boys divide into two.-
groups, and at it they go. It is capital sport ;_:
for, while it gives an opportunity for the_
display of skill and power in hurling the-
missiles, it causes no broken bones, nor
bloody noses, no peeled shins, no black.
eyes. It is the very mildest, merriest, and‘
most harmless, of all fighting. A snow-ball‘
pat in the face draws no “ claret,” begets no-
bad blood, and only provokes a retaliation in=
kind, perchance inciting the hit warrior to
squeeze his ball a little harder, and send it
back with redoubled, but still harmless vim.
Those people who live in the sunny south‘,
where Jack Frost never comes. with his snow--
flakes, surely miss one of the greatest de--
lights of our northern cliines.. We are will--




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88 snow-axanmc.
incident—and I close my story by suggest-
ing the lesson it inculcates: Beware of in-
|ustice; for it is very likely that you will
yourself suffer from the wrongs that will be
done in retaliation.


_
‘ cl
_ c c at


PRUTH TRIUMPHANT.
In a far-ofi‘ country, there was cnce a
jewellerwho left home with some valuable
diamonds, for the purpose of selling them in
a city at some distance from his own resi-
dence. He took with him his son and a
slave. This slave he had purchased when
quite a small boy, and had brought him up-
more like an adopted child than a servant.
The merchant at length reached the city‘
whither he was going, and disposed of his
diamonds with great advantage. While pre-‘
paring to return home, he was seized with al
sudden illness, which in a few hours termi--
nated his life. The merchant was quite a;
stranger in the city. This his servant knew,.
and believing himself quite safe, he declared;
’himself to be the son of the deceased jew-
eller, and entitled to take charge of his
property.
The real son was filled with great grief ;;
8


90 TRUTH TRIUMPHANT.
but what could he do? He had no means
of establishing his right to the property, for
he had no means of proving himself lo be
the son of the deceased. The servant was
loud in his pretensions, and one circumstance
served to favor his claims. He was a young
man, quite comely in his person, and polished
in his manners; whereas the jeweller’s son
was mean in his appearance, and had been
seriously injured in his education by the in-
dulgence of his parents. It was, therefore,
quite natural that strangers should take part
with the servant against the son.
At length, in order to end the dispute, the
latter referred the matter to a court of law.
There, however, from a total want of proof,
nothing could be decided. Each party was
equally positive; but neither could do more
than to assert his claim. At length, the
judge declared his utter inability to deter-
mine which was the rightful heir to the
property. .
The novelty of the case, and the great
.amount of property in question, excited the
linterest and curiosity of a large part of the
‘city. Divers opinions prevailed, and the sub-


TRUTH TRIUMPHANT. 9]
ject became a fruitful theme of conversation
and dispute. It was thought to be a case of
so much importance as to merit the attention
of the prince of the country.
The case was accordingly stated to him;
but in like manner he also was confounded,
and at a loss how to decide the question.
At length a happy thought occurred to the
chief judge of the prince, by which to ascer-
tain the real heir. The two claimants were
summoned befbre him. He ordered them to
stand behind a curtain prepared for the occa-
sion. Through this curtain two openings
were made. They were directed to project
their heads through these holes, and then
each one might tell his story. When the
judge had heard them, he was to decide the
case, and cut off the head of the one whom
he should judge to be the slave.
Both agreed to the plan — the son relying
upon the honesty and the justice of his
cause; the servant, through his confidence
in the impossibility of detection.
The judge took his seat, and the parties
took their stations. An oflicer with a drawn
sword stood in front, ready to strike off the


92 TRUTH TRIUMPHANT. ‘
head of the one whom the judge should de-
cide to be the impostor.
They now told their stories. Just as the
last one had finished, the judge cried out in
a stern voice to the ofiicer, “ Enough!
Enough! strike off the villain’s head!”
The oflicer sprang towards the young men
with an uplifted sword. The impostor,
conscious of his guilt, started back behind
the curtain; the son, conscious of the justice
of his cause, stood unmoved!
The judge immediately decided for the
latter, ordered the property to be given to
him. and the slave to be punished for his
wicked and ‘ungrateful attempt at deception.
/Q,
&


HUSKING TUE CORN.
'3
Ql
thought—I don’t know what I thought. I
guess I didn’t think at all ; or, ifI did, I thought
it was all a kind of play. But I know better
now. I see that, when people are at work,
they are not playing, but are doing some-
thing useful; and when mother sets me
to work, I mean always to consider that she
has a good and useful object in view, and
that I must do it, not because it is play, but
because it will do some good.”
“Very well,” said Tom. “I hope you
will always do so.” By this time, t'1e husk-
ing was done, and I came away.
I






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102 A 1uo'rnan’s cotmsan.
He waited a few moments, when he saw his
brother rise to the surface of the river,
spreading out his little hands, and asking for
help. Thomas could not swim, and all he
could do was to scream with all his might.
This outcry soon brought some persons to
the river, and, after a time, James was taken
out. But he was quite cold, pale, and ap-
parently without life. He was taken home,
and laid upon a bed. Thomas came to his
side, and, as he looked upon his little brother,
it seemed as if his heart would break.
He kissed the cold cheeks of the boy, and
placed his lifeless hands between his own,
and begged, in the most piteous tones, that his
brother would open his eyes, and speak, and
forgive him.
After more than an hour, James showed
some signs of life; and at length, having
passed through great suffering in throwing off
the water he had swallowed, he seemed out
of danger. But he_was very ill for some
weeks, and it was many months before he
fully recovered from the shock he had re-
ceived.
Such was one of the results of Thomas’s


A BROWN COAT, OR A BLUE?
THE IMPORTANCE or A SINGLE WORD.
A rroasr; was once stolen from a stable in
England, and two boys, having seen a young
man enter the place about the time the theft
took place, mentioned the fact. The de-
scription they gave seemed to answer to
James N———. He was accordingly arrest-
ed, and sent to prison. The sister of James
sent for the boys, in great distress, to see if
they were sure it was her brother whom they
had seen.
She first examined one of them, and then
the other. One of the boys said the young
man’s coat was blue; the other thought it
was brown. This became a question of life
and death ; for Ellen, the sister of the youth,
knew that her brother’s coat was brown, and


EFFECTS OF A THOUGHTLESS
ACTION. ’
Anonr forty years ago, there lived, near
the eastern border of France, a family by the
name of Marbceuf. The father was dead,
having left a widow and two children. The
eldest was a daughter, and named Narcisse.
The other, a son, was named Pierre. The
family was of some consideration, and en-
joyed a handsome independence. The chil-
dren were brought up according to the
custom of the country, being educated at
home, yet instructed as well in various ac-
complishments as in the ordinary branches
of mental study.
Narcisse was of a gay and thoughtless
temper, and, on one occasion, committed an
act which laid the foundation for a long train
of evils. Her brother, Pierre, was nervous
and sensitive to such a degree as to provoke
the ridicule of his somewhat hoiden sister.


run rmsr LIE. 1721
i
his father, who paid the ten dollars in order
to hush the matter up. Thus the affair
seemed to end, and my first ‘enterprise in
guilt was successful. But, alas! there is no
end to crime; and our success in error is
but success in misery. I had obtained the
watch —but at what a cost! It had made
me a liar; it had deprived me of that love
of my parents which had been my greatest
source of happiness; it had made me dread
even the look and presence of my kind
father; it had led me, in order to save myself,
to sacrifice my friend and companion; and,
finally, it had made me look upon all these
things with satisfaction and relief, because
they had been connected with my escape
from detection and punishment. Thus it
is that we learn not only to practise Wicked-
ness, but to love it.
“ ‘ From this time, my course in the down-
ward path was steady and rapid. I formed
acquaintance with the vicious, and learned
to prefer their society. I soon became
wholly weaned from my parents, and felt
their society to be an irksome restraint,
rather than a pleasure. From regarding my
ll


122 rnn rms' r LIE.

father as an object of affection, 1 earned
now to look upon him with aversion. When
he came into my presence, or I into his, his
image produced a painful emotion in my
mind. Thus I got at length to feel toward
him something like hatred. I spent a great
deal of money for him, and kept constantly
asking for more. I knew that he was in
straitened circumstances, and that he could
ill afford to supply me; but this did not
weigh a feather in my hardened mind.
“ ‘I went on from one step to another,
till at last I agreed to unite with my com-
panions in a regular system of roguery. We
formed a kind of society, and robbed hen-
roosts and melon-patches by the score. We
obtained entrance to houses and stores, and
plundered them of many watches and silver
spoons. I was the youngest of the party,
and did not always take a very active part
in their enterprises; but I loved the sport,
and did what I could. At last, as we were
returning from an excursion one very dark
night, —there being four of us, -- we heard
a horse’s trot behind us. We waited a
little, and soon a gentleman, well mounted,


124 THE FIRST LIE.
allay them ; besides, brandy is often necessary
to nerve the head and strengthen the arm,
so as to give the needed daring and power
If you could annihilate liquors, it seems to
me that you would annihilate the whole pro-
fession of thieves, blacklegs, burglars, robbers,
and counterfeiters. Get rid of those who
sell liquors, and you get rid of these felons ;
for they could not endure such lives as they
lead, unless braced up by the stimulus of
strdng drink.
. “‘Well--my story is now told. I have
only to say, that I was taken, at last, for one
of my crimes, tried, convicted, and sent to
this place. But I shall stay here a short
time only. My health is gone, though
scarce eighteen years of age; my constitu-
tion is wasted away, and the lamp of life is
near going out forever ! ’
“Here the poor youth sank down upon
his bed, completely exhausted. He closed
his eyes, and, by the flickering light of a
remote lamp, his face seemed as pallid as
marble. It looked like the very image of
death, and I felt a sort of awe creeping over
me, as if a corpse was at my side. At last I


111-: srasr LIE. 125
\
could near lnm breathe, and then I went to
bed. I reflected long upon what had hap-
pened. ‘I have thought,’ said I, mentally,
‘that I was most unhappy, in being destitute
of the care and instruction of parents; but
here is a poor youth, who is still more
wretched, and who yet has enjoyed the
blessing denied to me. The truth is that,
after all, good or ill fortune is usually the
resu_t of our own conduct. Even if Prov-
idence grants us blessings, we may neglect
or abuse them; if they are denied to us, we
may, by a steady pursuit of the right path,
still be successful in gaining happiness.’
With this reflection, I fell asleep; but, when
Iawoke in the morning, the young man at
my side was sleeping in the repose of
death.”


THE THREE SISTERS.
Tnnm; were once three sisters, who went
to witness the ascent of a balloon. When
they reached the place, they saw that it was
a prodigious bag of silk, with a netting put
over it, and to this a little car was attached.
There were a great many people around
the place, anxious to see the balloon rise and
sail away in the air. There were several
persons very busy in filling it with what is
called hydrogen gas, which is a kind of air
so light that it rises upward and carries the
balloon with it.
There was soon a considerable quantity of
gas in the balloon, and it then began to as-
cend a little; in a short time it rose more,
and, after a few minutes, it seemed in such a
hurry to burst away, that several men were
obliged to take hold of the net-work, and re-
strain it till all was ready.
A person by the name of Lauriat, who had


THE THREE srsrnns. 131
very swiftly. It was a beautiful sight to see.
At first the cage and parachute were hardly
visible, but they grew more and more distinct,
and at last they came nearer and nearer, and
finally dropped down upon a distant hill.
Some boys ran to the place, and behold ! puss
was in the cage, a good deal frightened, but
safe as ever. There are very few of her race
which have had "such a ride as this.
At last the balloon looked no larger than a
fly ; and then it entered a cloud, and was seen
no more. The company separated, and went
to their homes, all talking of the balloon, and
Mr. Lauriat, and puss, and the parachute.
Our three little girls also returned to their
home, and, rushing up to their mother, they
were each so eager to tcll the story, that
neither could be understood. At last their
m‘other said to them, “My dear children,I
must hear you one at a time. Let us all sit
down, and History, who is the eldest, shall tell
the story first. Then Poetry shall take her
turn, and Romance shall come next.”
To this they all agreed, and History began
as follows: “ We reached the place about
four o’clock in the afternoon. There were


134 THE THREE SISTERS.

know I should have been frightened. And
yet it seemed so pleasing to go up in the air,
and look don upon so many people, and to
know that they were all looking at you, and
that so many hearts were beating for you, and
that so many were admiring you! It would
be beautiful, indeed.
“And, mother, you must know that the
balloon glided up and away so softly that it
seemed like a dream fading from the memory.
And at last, when it was like a mere insect in
the vast blue sky, it stole into a cloud and
hid itself, and then I had a feeling of sadness.
Can you tell me why, mother ? ”
Here there was a pause, and the blue-eyed
girl stood for a moment, as if expecting an
answer. But Romance was impatient to
begin ; and her dark eye, shaded by the long,
black lashes, seemed to grow larger and
brighter as she spoke thus:—
“ History has told you, mother, all the
events that occurred, and she has accurately
described them. Poetry has painted the
scene, and made it clear and bright by com-
parisons. But I must tell you of the thoughts
and feelings it awakened in my breast, and of