9i ^^T, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 us m I I.I us 2.2 20 Photographic Sciences Corporation fe // ^ J^? ^ >/ < ^^ ^ J A fA 1.25 1 1.4 1.6 < 6" ► w i\ \\ -'■'* ^ ^ % 6^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductlons / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques vV Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. □ Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ D D D D D D Couverture endommagie Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pelliculAe I I Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes giographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Relii avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int6rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela itait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 filmdes. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppldmentaires; L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a At6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la m6thode normale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommagdes I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ ^/ n Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d^color^es, tachetdes ou piquees Pages detached/ Pages ddtach^es Showthrough/ Transparence I I Quality of print varies/ Quality indgale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du matdriel suppidmentaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partieliement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 film^es d nouveau de facon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film6 au taux de rMuction indiqu6 ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X ^ 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X ^^tp^l^" The copy filmed here has been reproduced thank* to the generosity of: Stminary of Queb«e Library L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grice i la gAnArosit6 de: SAminairt de Quibec BibliothAqut The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Las images suivantes ont it^ raproduites avec le piua grand soin. compte tenu de la condition at de la nettetA de I'exemplaira filmA, et en conformity avec las conditions du contrat de filnage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or Illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimAe sont filmAs en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'iilustration, soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmAs en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'iilustration et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol --^(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — *> signifie "A SUIVRE ", le symbols V signifie "FIN ". Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmta A des taux de reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmA A partir da Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de heut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 4 . ■ -»>> U CANADIAN CATHOLIC READERS. , «» • -y I. .. •*• The Nativity. 3G6 Canadian datboUc IReadcrs. ( 1 SECOND READER APPROVED BY THE EDUCATION DEPARTMENT FOR USE IN THE ROMAN CATHOLIC SEPARATE SCHOOLS OF ONTARIO. MONTREAL : CADIEUX & DEROME, m i . I filtered acconling to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thou8an Thk ] JAttle The S Tiny's A Son The I Flovjet Caugi The J My M Mane The a Storii The V The I A Nig A Les The ^ Good The M A Hi( Do the The V Aooor The Jk St. a TABLE OF CONTENTS. The Selections in Poetry are Printed in Italics. Paob. What the Winds Bring 7 Sponge-Fishing (Illustrated) - 8 If I Were a Bird 1 1 Thk Pea Blossom (Illustrated) . . . Hans Andersen ... 12 Little Boy Blue 17 The Stone that Kebounded 18 Tiny's First and Only Lik 20 A Song of the Sleigh 25 The Birth of Our Blessed Lord . . liev. J. li. Teefy ... 26 Floujersfor the Altar 28 Caught by the Tide (Illustrated) 29 The Man of the House 33 My Mother Ann Taylor 36 Manenko, the Little Dark Girl (Illustrated) 38 The Coming of Sjn-ing M. Howitt 43 Stories About Dogs ... 44 The Violet Jane Taylor . . . 47 The Faithful Shepherd 48 A Night With a Wolf (Illustrated) 51 A Lesson from the Birds 53 The Nest 55 Good Example 56 The Miller of the Dee (Illustrated) . . . Charles Mackay ... 59 A High Aim 61 Do the Best that I Can 64 The Voice Within Alice Cary 65 Agoonack, the LirrLE Eskimo (Illustrated) . . . ' 66 The Moon's Lullaby 71 St. Augustine 72 5 B\ 6 Contents. Paqm. The Quettt 75 Don't Crow Till You Are Dut op thk Woods 76 Tadpolrs and FRO(iH (Illustrated) 78 The Right Sokt of Revenoe 81 Somebody 8 Mother (II luatvated) 84 Chasing a Kainuuw ; 86 Eastkk (Illnstrattd) Rev. J. li. Teefy ... 88 The Robin John Qreenleaf WhUtier. 92 The Word of (Jod 93 In the Orphan Homt' (Illustrated) . . . Susan Coolidye . . 96 The Black Hoksk's Story Anna Sewell .... 99 The Beavr : (Iliustnttcd) 104 The Tempest 107 How THE Crickets Brought Good Luck 108 The Two Church- Builders John O. Saxe . . . .112 Christopher Columbus 114 The Lonely Child. ^AWf I(Illvstrated) Adapted 118 Little Acts of Lore 123 Tub Lonely Cuild. Part II .... Adapted 124 The Honey-Makkr 129 The Bear and the Bees (Illustrnled) 132 On the Wing 134 Red RidiiKj Hood John Qreenleaf Whittier. 137 A Little Wave's History. Part 1 138 A Little Wave's History. Part II 141 Vesper Bells (Illustrated) 144 St. Cyril 146 The Growth of Plants 148 The Children's Hour (Illustrated) . . . Henry W. Longfellow . 151 I'LANTs and Their Partners 153 Pentecost Rev. J. R. Teefy . . . 165 Hymn to the Guardian Angel (Illustrated) 159 Four Sunbeams 160 The Thrke Boys 162 Two Brothers Adapted from Ave Maria 166 The Wise Fairy Alice Cary 169 The Little Post- Boy ... ... Bayard Taylor . . .171 The Good Little Sister Phoebe Gary 181 SECOND READER. I. WHAT THE WINDS BRING. " Which is tlie wind that brings the wld ? " The nortli wind, Freddy, and all the .snow; And the sheep will scamper into the fold When the north begins to blow " Which is the wind that brings the heat ? " The south wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, And peaches redden for you to eat, When the south begins to blow. " Which is the wind that brings the rain ? " The east wind, Arty ; and farmers know That cows come shivering up the lane When the east begins to blow. *' Which is the wind that brings the flowers ? " The west wind, Bessie ; and soft and low The birdies sing in the summer hours When the west begins to blow. I will govern my life and my thoughts as if the whole world were to see one f^nd to read the other. 7 Second Heaokr. II.-SPONGE-FISHING. "Where do sponges come from, I wonder," said Koy, as he sat by tlie window, cleaning his slate with a bit of fine sponge. " What are they made of ? " "Made of?" said Aunt Mary. "Why, they are the bones of animals." " Why, what do you mean, Aunt Mary ? I never saw any animals that looked like sponges." Sponoe-Fishino. " I suppose not," said Aunt Mary ; " because they all grow on the bottom of the sea, and do not look then as they do when you see them." u How do they look then ? " said Koy. ** Well, they grow in many beautiful forms, of different sizes and shapes — like a cup, a top, a ball, and sometimes like branches of small trees. "They have soft flesh, like jelly, which covers a, bony frame-work of horny fibres. Some are red, some green, and others yellow." ** Then they nmst look like plants ?" said Roy. " Yes, but they are not plants. For a long time they were thought to be plants ; but now, those who have watched them longest and with the greatest care, say that they are animals." ** How do they catch them ? " said Roy, who began to think about the way fish are caught. " If the w^ater is not too deep, men stand in a boat over the place where they are growing, and tear them off the rocks below with long spears." ** But if the water is very deep ? " '' Ah, that is the most interesting part of all. Then, men have to dive down to the bottom, and cut them off the rocks with sharp knives." " Why, how can they do that ? " *' They are trained to the work, and can easily 10 Second Reader. dive down to the bottom — a distance of sixty feet or more. " When the boat is right over the place where the sponges grow, the diver takes a large rock, to which a rope is tied, and jumps into the water. "Down, down, down he goes, through the dark water, till at last he stands on the bottom. " Once there, he works away as fast as he can, for it is not possible for him to stay under water longer than two minutes at one time. ** He searches about among the rocks and cliffs, and cuts off, with great care, the nicest sponges he can find, and puts them under his arms, or into a sack. "When he has gathered as many as he can, he pulls the rope, and the men in the boat haul him and his load of sponges up to the surface as quickly as possible." " How do they get the flesh off? " said Roy. "They bury them in the sand till the flesh decays, and then they wash them in acid and water, till they are clean and fit to sell." Roy sat still for a long time, looking at the piece of sponge he had in his hand. At last he said softly, to himself, " Sponges, animals ? No eyes, no ears, no hands ? What funny things ! " li m If I WERE A Bird. 11 III.— IF I WERE A BIRD. ^''^^y ' ii If I were a bird I would warble a song, The sweetest and finest that ever was heard, And build me a nest on the swinging elm-tree ; Oh ! that's what I'd do if I w^ere a bird. If I were a flower I'd hasten to bloom, And make myself beautiful all the day through, With drinking the sunshine, the wind and the rain ; Oh ! if I were a flower, that's what I'd do. If I were a brook I would.sparkle and dance Among the green fields where sheep and lambs stray, And call, " Little lambkins, come hither and drink ;" Oh ! if I were a brook, that's what I would say. If I were a star I would shine wide and bright, To guide the lone sailor on ocean afar. And traveller lost in the desert and woods ; Oh ! that's what I'd do if I were a star. Perhaps one little w^ord from you May cause life to look bright, A little act of kindness, make A brother's burden light ; A tear dropped for a sorrowing friend May help to heal and cheer, A smile will scatter sunshine On some one's path so drear. J 12 Second Rea.der. --«• IV.-THE PEA BLOSSOM. There were once five peas in one pod. They were green, and the pod was green ; so they thouglit the whole world was green. The sun shone and warmed the pod. It was mild and pleasant in the daytime, and dark at night, of course. The peas grew bigger and bigger. Tli(\v thought a great deal, wondering what they should do by and by. *' Must we sit here forever 1 " asked one, '' I The Pea Blossom. 18 think there mv be something outside of our shell. I am sur. of it." Weeks passed by. The peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow, too. **A11 the world is turning yellow," said they. Perhaps they were right. Suddenly something pulled the pod. It was torn off and held in human hands. Then it was dropped into a jacket pocket, with other pods. "Now we shall soon be opened," said one. " That is just what I want." "I should like to know which one of us will travel farthest," said the smallest pea. "We shall soon see, now." "What is to happen will happen," said the largest pea. " Crack ! " went the pod, as it burst. The five peas rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a child's hand. A little boy was holding them fast. He said they were fine peas for his pea shooter. So saying, he put one in, and shot it forth. "Now I am flying out into the wide world," said the pea. " Catch me if you can ! " He was gone in a moment. " I shall fly straight to the sun," said the 14 Second Reader. second pea. " That is a pod which will suit me exactly." Away he went. "We shall go farther than the others," said the next two. And away they went. " What is to happen will happen," said the last of the five, as he was shot out of the pea shooter. As he spoke, he flew up against an old board, under a garret window. He fell into a crack, which was almost filled with moss and soft earth. The moss closed over him. There he lay, a little captive. But God saw him. In the garret lived a poor woman. She went out every day to work for her living. She had one little daughter, who was very sick. All winter long the sick child lay in her bed, patient and quiet. She was alone all day, while her mother was away at work. Spring came. One morning, early, the sun shone brightly through the little window. He threw his rays over the floor of the sick room. The mother was going to her work, when the child cried, — " Oh, mother ! look out of the window. What can that little, green thing be ? It is moving in the wind." The mother went to the window and opened it. " Oh!" she said. "Here is a little pea growing The Pea Blossom. I t 15 up. It has really taken root, and is putting out its green leaves. How could it have found its wa^y into this crack ? Now you will have a little garden to amuse you." So saying, the mother drew the bed nearer to the window, that the sick child might see the budding plant. Then she went to her work. " Mother, I believe I shall get well," said the child, when her mother came home in the even- ing. " The sun has been so bright and warm to-day, and the little pea is growing so well. I think I shall get better, too, and go out into the warm sunshine." ** God grant it ! " said the mother, as she kissed her child. Then she brought a little stick to prop the tiny plant which had given her daughter such hope. She tied a piece of string to the window sill, so that the little pea tendrils might twine round it when they grew up. Indeed, they seemed to grow from day to day. " Here is a flower coming ! " said the mother, one morning. And now she began to hope that her little girl would get well. The little girl raised her head to look at her garden, with its one pea plant. A week after, she sat up for the first time, for 16 Second Reader. a whole hour. She was quite happy as she sat by her window in the warm sunshine, while the little pea plant on the roof bore one pink blossom. The child kissed the tender leaves gently. This was her Thanksgiving Day. " Our Heavenly Father himself has planjted that pea, and made it grow and blossom to bring joy to you and hope to me, my blessed child," said the happy mother. And she smiled at the flower as if it had been an angel. But what became of the other peas ? Why, the one who cried, " Catch me, if you can ! " fell on the roof of a house, and ended his days in the crop of a pigeon. The next two were also eaten by pigeons, so they were of some use. The fourth, who started to reach the sun, fell into the gutter. The young girl stood at the garret window, with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. She folded her thin hands over the pea blossom, and thanked God for sending it to her lonely home. — Hans Andersen. Be not puffed or vain Of your beauty or your worth, Of your friends or your birth, Or the praise you gain. Little Boy "^lue. 17 ! . I I v.— LITTLE BOY BLUE. The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and staunch he stands ; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new. And the soldier was passing fair, And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. " Now, don't you go till I come," he said, " And don't you make any noise ! " So toddling off to his trundle-bed He dreamt of the pretty toys. And as he was dreaming, an angel song Av/akened our Little Boy Blue, — Oh ! the years are many, the years are long. But the little toy friends are true. Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place, Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face. And they wonder, as waiting these long years through. In the dust of that little chair. What has become of our Little Boy Blue, Since he kissed them and put them there. Temper is so good a thing that we should never lose it. 2 i 18 Second Reader. VI.— THE STONE THAT REBOUNDED. 1( *' O boys, boys ! don't throw stones at that poor bird," said an old, gray-haired man. " Why, sir," said a little fellow, " she makes such a squalling that we can't bear her." " Yes, but her voice is probably as pleasant to her friends as yours is to those who love you ; and, besides, I am afraid the stone will rebound, and hurt you as long as you live." "Rebound? We don't understand you, sir." " Well, come, and I will tell you a story." " Is it a true story ? " " Yes, every word is true." "Fifty years ago I was a boy like you. I used to throw stones ; and, as I had no other boy very near me to play with, I threw them till I became very accurate in my aim. " One day I went to work for an aged couple by the name of Hamilton. They seemed very old people then. They were very kind to every- body and everything. Few people had so many swallows making their nests under the roofs of their barns; few had so many pets that seemed to love them, as they. The Stone that Rebounded. 19 at )S " For seven years a bird had come, after the long winter was over, and built her nest in the same place, and there reared her young ones. She had just returned on the day that I went there to work, and they welcomed her heartily. She hopped about as if giad to get back. " In the course of the day I thought I would try my skill upon her. She sat upon a post near the spot where she was to build her nest, and looked at me trustfully, as much as to say, ' You won't hurt me ? ' I found a nice stone, and, poising my arm, I threw it with my utmost skill. It struck the bird on the head, and she dropped dead. " I was sorry the moment I saw her fall. But the deed was done. All day long her mate flew about, and chirped in tones so sad that he made my heart ache. "I said nothing to the old people about it, but, through a grandchild, they found it out ; and though they never said a word to me on the matter, I knew that they were deeply grieved at my cruelty. I could never look them in the face afterwards, as I had done before. Oh, that I had told them how sorry I was ! "They have been dead many, many years, and so has the poor bird; but don't you see 20 Second Reader. how that stone rehoundedy and hit me ? How deep a wound it made upon my memory ! how deep upon my feelings 1 Why, my dear boys, I wpuld give a great deal to-day if I could undo that deed. " For fifty years I have carried it in my memory. I liave never spoken of it before ; yet, if what I have now said shall prevent you from throwing a stone that may rebound and deeply wound your feelings, I shall rejoice." The boys at once dropped the stones they had in their hands, and the bird had no more trouble from them. VII.— TINY'S FIRST AND ONLY LIE. One day Tiny went out to play with her pet rabbit. He was all brown, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail, and Tiny named him Mop. He had become as tame as a kitten, and Tiny found him quite a playmate. This morning, after she had given him his breakfast of carrots and clover, she took him for a race in the garden. Mop was in fine spirits, and he scampered away after her down the path, and hopped past her into the gooseberry bushes. ■1 , Tiny's First and Only Lie. 21 Tiny ran after him, and found him hiding under the leaves, looking out at her with his eyes very bright. Just then the gooseberries, which were full and ripe on the bush, caught her eye. " How nice they look ! " she said to herself " I'll just taste one ; I won't eat it, because mother does not like me to eat them," said Tiny; and she put the berry to her lips. It tasted so good that she thought she might as well swallow it while she was about it ; and then she thought two would not hurt her any more than one, so she ate two. After that she ate another, ^and another, and then — " Tiny ! " called her mother, from the house. Tiny gave a start, swallowed the last berry whole, caught up Mop in her arms, and walked slowly into the house. "What were you doing. Tiny?" asked her mother. " Oh," said Tiny, looking all about the room, " I went out to play with Mop." " Did you eat any gooseberries. Tiny ? " " No, mother, I didn't ! " 2^ Second Ueadeu. '' Tiny," said her mother, soberly, ** is my little girl very sure of this 'i " '' Mother, just see Mop, how he is biting my finger. I don't think he is very polite, and tlien she began to cry. sol e^ 8' m TlNVS FlKST AND ONLY LlE. 2:) After she had cried \ ry softly for a little while, she thought slu^ would ^o and play with Mop; so she ran away, and tried to play. Hut somehow all the fun seeih'Ml to h.ivj^ ^^one out of everything. Besides, Mop mad i her thirds of the gooseberries ; so she went back to her corner behind ihi-- door again, and stayed thei'e till dinn jr I'luu. Then she went to the diniii«4-ro()m skippi^:'.;, and singing some merry little song. About the middle of the afternoon. Tiny came into her mother's room, looking very serious. " What is the matter ? " asked her mother. "Mother, I've been thinking this is a (pieer world — don't you think so 1 " ** What made you think so, Tiny ? " Tiny began to play with the baby just then, and made no answer. Presently she put her arms round her mother's neck, and said, — " I've got a stone in my heart, mother." " What do you mean, Tiny ? " " Here," said Tiny, putting her hand under her chin ; *' I think I'm sick." '*My little girl is not very happy — isn't that it?" " I do fet'l so full of sorrows, but I think it's a stone ; perhaps I swallowed it sometime." 24 Second Reader. ''No, I think not," said her mother. "You want to tell me something, don't you ? '* "Mother," said Tiny, in a whisper, ""what do you suppose I did ? " " What was it, Tiny ? " " I — I ate a gooseberry this morning." " I am very sorry to hear that," said her mother, laying down her work. " I believe I ate two." " Is that all. Tiny ? " " I shouldn't wonder if I ate a lot," said Tiny, winliing very hard to keep from crying. "Why did you not tell me that this morning ?" said her mother, sadly. Tiny hung her head. "I would rather have my little girl do any- thing else in the world than tell a lie." " Oh, mother ! " and Tiny broke out in a sudden cry. " Oh, mother, I am so sorry ! I don't know what made me do it, and I'll never, never do it again." "I hope you won't," said her mother, "and now you must go to your own room till tea time." It was a long and dreary afternoon to Tiny, as she sat alone thinking about wJiat she had done. I doubt if she ever forgot it as long as she lived. She never told a lie again. A Song of the Sleigh. 25 VIII.-A SONG OF THE SLEIGH. Oh, swift we go o'er the fleecy snow, When moonbeams sparkle round ; When hoofs keep time to music's chime, As merrily on we bound. On a winter's night, when hearts are light, And health is on the wind. We loose the rein and sweep the plain, And leave our Cares behind. With a laugh and song we glide along Across the fleeting snow ! With friends beside, how swift we ride On the beautiful track below ! Oh ! the raging sea, has joys for me, When gale and tempests roar ; But give me the speed of a foaming steed, And I'll ask for the waves no more. If imy little word of mine May make a life the brighter. If any little song of mine. May make a heart the ligliter ; God help me speak the little word, And take my bit of singiug And drop it in some lonely vale, To set the echoes ringing. 26 Second Reader. IX.-THE BIRTH OF OUR BLESSED LORD. It was in winter, long ago, that a poor carpenter, Joseph by name, and his wife, Mary, entered the city of their tribe, called Bethlehem. They had come from the obscure village of Nazareth, to be enrolled in a census which had been ordered by the Roman Emperor. There was no room for them in the inns of the city, so that when night came they had to seek refuge elsewhere. This they found in a cave which served as a stable. And it came to pass that, when they were there, Mary, the Mother, brought forth her Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and laid Him in the manger. Thus amidst the poorest surroundings was born Jesus, the Word made Flesh, the Eternal Son of God. The weary city near by slept, and knew not the great event that had taken place. But out on the sloping hills in the same country, shep- herds were watching their flocks. All at once, in the dark night, they were struck with fear at a dazzling brightness of heavenly light above them, and the sound of heavenly music. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood by them, and said to them : *' Fear not, for I bring The Birth of Our Blessed Lord. 27 you good tidings of great joy ; for this day is born to you a Saviour who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David." No sooner had this word been spoken to them than the skies echo with hosts of angels praising God and saying : " Glory be to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will." With ready faith the shepherds started away to see that which had come to pass, and the word which the Lord had shown them. They found all — Mary, the Mother, and Joseph, and the infant in the manger — ;just as had been told them. Thus did the poor, hardy shepherds come and worship the Babe, who was in very truth Himself the Shepherd of men. There was a second scene of worshippers in that cave of Bethlehem — richer, larger, but not more pious or simple, than the first. It was a grand procession of rich kings, with their servants, on camels, bearing gifts. A strange star had guided them from their own country as far as Jerusalem, when it was withdrawn. But soon it appeared again, and went before them until it came and stood over where the child was. Entering, they found the child with Mary, His Mother, and falling down they adored Him ; and they offered Him gold, frankincense and myrrh. 28 Second Reader. They returned to their own country to teach others the gospel they had learned at the manger, and to shed their blood for that new- born King who had drawn them so strangely to Himself. _/?«„. j, r, Teefy. X.— FLOWERS FOR THE ALTAR. See ! the sun beyond the hill Is dipping, dipping down Right above the old Scotch fir, Just like a golden crown. Children ! quick, and come with me, Handfuls of cowslips bring, Hawthorn bright with boughs of white, And mayflowers from the spring. Lucy has fresh shoots of thyme From her own garden plot : Jacob's lilac has been stripped — A gay and goodly lot ! To Saint Wilfred's we will go. And give them to the priest ; He must deck our Lady's shrine To-morrow for the feast. Poor indeed the flowers we give, But we ourselves are poor; Payment for each gift to her Is plentiful and sure. «l Caught by the Tide. By the picture Lucy lovea, Hail-Marys will we say, And for him who's far at sea Most fervently we'll pray. God be praised, who sent the faith To these lone fields of oiu-s, And God's Mother, too, who takes Our little tithe of ilowers. 90 XI.-CAUGHT BY THE TIDE. One day, two boys — Rol)ert, who was fourteen years of age, and Walter, a boy of twelve — took their little sister Ettie to the sea-beach to gather shells. They walked np and down on the sand searching for shells, but they could not find any that were very pretty. ''It is too bad ! " said Ettie ; " some one has been here before us and picked up all the pretti- est shells. I think they ought to have left some of them for us." "They had as much right to them as we have," said Walter. ''We must try to find some that no one else has seen." m 30 Second Reader. "That will be rather hard to do, unless we can find a place where no one else has been for some time," said Robert. " Now, if we could only go over to Rocky Islet, I am sure we should find as many as we could carry. It is low tide, and the rocks are all standing above the water." "Let us go, then," said Walter. ''There is Jonas the fisherman's boat, just ahead of us ; we can borrow that, and row over to the islet easily enough. It is not very far." Ettie was delighted when Robert consented to go. They borrowed the fisherman's boat; and, as pi. Caught by the Tide. m 31 both of the l)oys could row very well, they soon reached Ilocky Islet. Robert tied the boat to a large stone, and then they all began to search for shells. They found many beautiful ones, which they placed in the boat. Little Ettie thought she had never seen such fine shells as some of these were. ''Will not mother be pleased," she said, ''when she. sees how many we have ? — and such beau- ties, too ! " Eobert said : " Come, now ; the tide is rising, and we must start for home." They walked to the water's edge, where they had left the boat, but it was not there. One of the oars lay on the rock, but the boat was gone. Robert had not tied the boat securely, and the rising tide had carried it away. They could see it drifting toward the shore. " What shall we do 1 " cried Walter, in alarm. " The tide will cover all these rocks. We must get to the shore, or we shall be drowned. Can you not swim to the boat, Robert ? " " It is too far off," said Robert, " and the wind is blowing it faster than I could swim. Perhaps some one will see us and bring help." They were very much frightened. Ettie began to cry. The boys shouted as loud as they could, i 32 Second Reader. hoping that some one would hear them ; but it was of no use, for the shore was too far off, and there was no boat in sight except the empty one which was drifting away. ''Here is one of the oars," said Robert, picking it up. " Let me take your apron, Ettie ; I shall tie it fast to the oar, and wave it, to let them know that we need help." At last the water reached the rock on which they were standing. Little Ettie screamed, as a wave rippled over the rock and wet her feet. " It is of no use," said Robert ; '' no one hears or sees us. Perhaps, after all, the water will not rise high enough to cover our heads. Let us hold fast to each other, so that we may not be washed off the rock." The water was up to their knees now, and still rising. Robert told Ettie to put both her arms over the oar ; then he tied her fast to it with the apron. " There, Walter ! " he said, " that will keep her from sinking, if the water gets too deep, or washes us off the rock ; and you and I can each take hold of an end and swim for some time. Let us take off our coats and shoes, before the water gets deeper." Just then they heard a shout. They looked toward the shore, and saw a boat coming out to The Man of the House. 8S them ; Jonas the fisliernian was in it. As he came near, he could see the chihh'en standi^ »• in the water. He shouted, to let them know that help was near. The l>()ys shouted in reply, and soon all were safe in the boat. XII.-THE MAN OF THE HOUSE. The boy marched straight up to the counter. "Well, my little man," said the merchant, pleasantly, " what will you have to-day ? " " O, please, sir, mayn't I do some work for you ? " " Do some work for me ? What sort of work can a little chap like you do ? Why, you can't look over the counter ! " **0 yes, sir, I can ; and I'm growing, please, — growing fast. There, see if I can't look over the counter ! " " Yes, by standing on your toes ; are they coppered ? " " What, sir ? " **Why, your toes. Your mother could not keep you in shoes if they were not." 34 Second Keadek. " She can't keep me in shoes anyhow, sir." And the voice trembled. The man stretched over the counter, l)ut he couldn't see the little toes ; so he stepped round to take a look at the lad. **I'm older than I'm big, sir; people say I'm very small of my age." "And what is your age?" asked the merchant. " I am almost eight, sir," said Kichard, looking his biggest and proudest. " You see my mother has nobody but me ; and this morning I saw her crying because she had no money to buy bread for breakfast, sir." The voice again broke, and tears came into the blue eyes. *' Well, well ; that is bad ! Where is your father ? " *' We never heard of him, sir, after he w^ent awav. He was lost, sir, in the steamer Boston" " Dear me, that is worse still ! But you are a plucky little fellow. Let me see," and he looked straight into the l)oy's eyes, which were looking straight into his. *' Saunders," asked the merchant of a clerk, who was rolling up and writing on parcels, "' is cash No. 4 still sick ? " '.] The Man of the House. t$ 'Dead, sir; died last night," was the low reply. " Ah, I am sorry to hear that. Well, here*s a youngster that can take his place." Mr. Saunders looked up slowly, he put his pen behind his ear, then he glanced curiously at little Richard. "Oh, I understand," said the merchant. "Yes, he is small, — very small, indeed ; but I like his pluck. What did No. 4 get ? " " Three dollars, sir." " Put this boy down for four. There, my lad, give the clerk your name, and run home quickly, and tell your mother you have got a place at four dollars a week. Come back on Monday, and I'll tell you what to do. Here's a dollar for your mother. I'll take it out of your first week. Can you remember ? " " Work, sir, — work all the time ? " " Ab long as you deserve it, my man." " I've got it, mother ! " cried Richard, rushing into the house. " I'm a cash-boy ! Don't you know when they take parcels the clerk calls ' Cash ' ? Well, I'm that. Four dollars a week ! And the man said I had real pluck. And here's I 3G Second Reader. a dollar for breakfast ; and don't you ever cry again ; for I'm the man of the house now." If ever a mother was astonished, that mother was. For a moment she coidd not comi)rehend tiie matter. But when llichard told his story, she Inirst into tears, and takin<( her plucky little man in her arms she spoke to him loving words, such as only a mother knows how to use. XIII.— MY MOTHER. Wlio fed me from her gentle breast, And liuslied me in her arms to rest, And on my cheek sweet kisses prest ? My Mother. When sleep forsook my open eye, Who was it sung sweet Uillaby, And rocked me that I should not cry ? My Mother. Wlio sat and watched my infant liead, When sleeping in my cradle bed, And tears of sweet affection shed ? My Mothev. When pain and sickness made me cry, Who gazed upon my heavy eye, And wept for feai* that I should die ? My Mother. My Mother. Wlio rail to help ma wlion T fell, And would some pretty stoiy tell, «' part to make it well ? My Mothei :^7 Or kiss til Who tau*^lit my infant lips to pray, To love Ocxl's holy word and day, And walk in wisdom's pleasant way ? My Mother. And can I ever cease to be Att'ectionate and kind to thee, Who wast so very kind to me, My Mother ? Oh no ! the thought I cannot bear; And it' God please my life to spare, I hope I shall reward thy care, My Mother. When thou art feeble, old and gray, My healthy arm shall be thy stay. And I will soothe thy pains away. My Mother. And when I see thee hang thy head, 'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, And tears of sweet affection shed, My Mother. — Ann Taylor. You can do more good by being good than in any other way. 38 Second Reader. XIV.— MANENKO, THE LITTLE DARK GIRL. In this part of the world, Manenko would certainly be considered a very wild little girl. She has never been to school although she is more than seven years old. She has never seen a book but once, and has never learned to sew or knit. There are many things, though, she can do. She can paddle the small canoe in the river, help to hoe the young corn, and can find the wild Manenko, the Little Dark Girl. dd bees' honey in the woods. She can gather the scarlet fruity and help her mother to pound the corn in the great wooden mortar. Would you like to know more of her, — how she looks, where she lives, and what vshe does all day and all night ? Here is a little round house with low doorways very like those of a dog's house. Look at the round pointed roof made of the long rushes that grow by the ri\er, and braided together firmly with strips of bark; fine, soft grass is spread over this roof to keep out the rain. In this house lives Manenko with her father and mother and two brothers. They are all very dark. Their lips are thick, their noses broad, and instead of hair, their heads are covered with wool. For clothes they have aprons and mantles of antelope skins ; on their arms and ankles they wear bracelets made of copper or iron. In the morning they must be up early, for the father and Zungo, the older brother, are going to hunt. The mother prepares the breakfast — small cakes of bread made from the pounded corn, scarlet beans eaten with honey, and plenty of milk from the brown cow. All the meat has been eaten, and to-day the men must go out over the broad, grassy fields 40 Second Reader. for more. Zungo and his father take their long spears, and the basket of ground-nuts the mother has made ready, and they are off with the other hunters before the sun is up. The mother takes her hoe, and calling on Manenko to help her, hoes the young corn growing on the round hill behind the house. There is little hoeing to be done this morning, so the mother returns to the hut to make her baskets. On the floor is a heap of fine twisting tree-roots which she brought from the forest yesterday. Under the shadow of the grassy roof she sits before the door weaving them into strong, neat baskets. While she works, other women come too with their work, sit beside her in the shade and chatter away in a very queer sounding language. Manenko has heard the call of the honey-bird, the brisk little chirp of *' Chiken, cliiken, chik, churr, churr," and she is away to the wood to follow his call, and bring home the honey. She runs beneath the tall trees, looking up for the small, brown bird; then she stops and listens to hear him again. *' Chiken, chiken, chik, churr, churr," and there sits the brown bird above a hole in the tree, where the bees are flying in and out, their legs yellow with honey-dust. It is too high for Manenko to reach. She marks the t Manenko, the Litt^.e Dark Girl. 41 place, and says to herself, '' I will tell Ra when he comes home." Who is Ra? Why, that is her name for father. She turns to go home, but stops to listen to the wild shouts and songs of the women who have left their huts and are coming down towards the river to welcome their chief. The chief comes from a long journey with the young men up the river in canoes, to hunt the elephant, and bring home the ivory tusks. The canoes are full of tusks, and while the men un- load them, the women are shouting, '^ Sleep, my lord, my great chief" Manenko listens for only a minute, and then runs to join her mother, and add her little voice to the general noise. The drum beats, the women shout, while the men gather round a fire, and roast and eat great slices of ox -meat, and tell the story of the famous elephant-hunt. Wonderful things the men have seen. Man- enko listens to their stories until the moon is high, and the stars have almost faded in her light. Then her father and Zungo come home, bringing the antelope and buffalo meat, too tired to tell their story until the next day. After eating supper, they are all soon asleep on the mats which form their beds. It is a hard kind of bed, but a good one. II- i: 42 Second Reader. These are simple, happy people ; they live out of doors most of the time, and they love the sunshine, the rain and the wind. They have plenty to cat, — the pounded corn, the milk and honey, the scarlet beans, and the meat the hunters bring. Soon it will be time for the wild water-birds to come flocking down the river, — white pelicans, brown ducks, and hundreds of smaller birds that chase the skimming flies over the water. If Manenko could read, she would be sorry that she has no books. And if she knew what dolls are, she might be longing for one every day. But these are things of which she knows nothing at all. She is happy enough watching the hornets building their hanging nests on the branches of the trees, cutting the small sticks of sugar-cane, or following the wild honey-bird's call. O turn thy glance to Heaven above, As sun-dial to the sun, in love ! For when the heart on God doth rest, It throbs, it beats, at His behest ; All tests of time it doth endure, And thus eternity secure. The Coming ob^ Spuing. 43 XV.— THE COMING OF SPRING. " Spring, where are you tarrying now ? Why are you so long unfelt ? Winter went a month ago, When the snows began to melt." " I am coming, little maiden, With the pleasant sunshine laden ; With the honey for the bee. With the blossom for the tree, With the flower and with the leaf ; Till I come, the time is brief. " I am coming, I am coming ! Hark ! the little bee is hunnning ; See, the lark is soaring high In the bright and sunny sky ; And the gnats are on the wing ; Little maiden, now is Spring ! " See, the yellow catkins cover All the slender willows over ; And on mossy banks so green. Starlike primroses are seen ; And, their clustering leaves below. White and purple violets grow. " Hark ! the little lambs are bleating,- And the cawing rooks are meeting In the elms, a noisy crowd ; And all birds are singing loud • And the first whitt? butterfly In the sun goes flitting b" ' 1 Hi •I m ; m : 4 -. i'Sj 44 Second Readeii. " Little maiden, look around thee ! Green and flowery fields .surround thee ; Every little stream is bright, All the orchard trees are white, And each small and waving shoot Has for thee sweet flower or fruit. " Turn thy eyes to earth and heaven ! God for thee the Spring hath given ; Taught the birds their melodies, Clothed the earth and cleared the skies, For thy pleasure, or thy food ; Pour thy soul in gratitude ! So may'st thou 'mid blessings dwell : Little maiden, fare thee well ! " —M. HowUt. XVL— STORIES ABOUT DOGS. There was once a dog wlio used to go to market with his master every morning. He was always given a cent to l)uy meat for himself. If the butcher took the money before he gave him the meat, the dog would growl and show his teeth. Once the master was called away on ])usiness, and was gone for several days. On his return he tokl Romp to bring him his shppers. Ilomp did not obey, but slunk into a corner, and the sHppers could not be found. Stories AiiouT Docis. 45 Some hours later the gentlenian went to the post-office, and Ilonip w(^nt with him. As he passed the market, the butcher asked him to step into the store, and gave him liis slippers. Romp had carried them down one at a time to pay for his meat. A certain gentleman had a clever dog named Fido. One day Fido had l)een very naughty. He had made an attack on a favorite cat that belonged to the people who lived next door. It seems that the dog had found puss feeding on some scraps that had been thrown to her ; so he drove her out of the yard, and ate the food she had received. He had just finished his stolen meal when he saw his master coming towards him, and he slunk off to his kennel. About half an hour afterwards, the gentleman was sitting in his easy chair reading the evening paper, wdien he heard a gentle knock at the room door. Opening it, he found Fido standing with his slippers in his mouth, and looking very anxious, as if in doubt about the success of his plan. The gentleman was much pleased : the peace- offering was taken, and Fido was allowed again to take his place on the rug at his master's feet. One dark night, the watchmen at a small LI it' I 46 Second Reader. village on one of our coasts lieard the whining of a dog. They went out, and found the dog ; and, having tied a lantern to his neck, they followed him to tlie beach. There they found a woman and child, a little girl two years old, stretched on the sand, and, as it seemed to them, nearly dead. They carried them to a house about half a mile off, and used means to restore them. The child was lively the next morning, but it was a long time before the mother was well again. After a few days, however, she was able to speak. The first thing she said was, " Where is Henry — where is my husband ? " And she wept very bitterly at the thought that she should never see him again. She had sailed with him some weeks before, in his ship, the Sea Gull. They had met with one storm after another ; and at last the ship, with all her masts gone, had been driven on the rocks and wrecked. The mother had been dragged ashore by some one, while she held her child firmly clasped in her arms. It was their faithful dog that had saved them from drowning, and that had brought to their help the good watchmen who had treated them so kindly. The Violet. 47 What was her joy when she lieard, a few (hiys later, that her liusband also was safe ! He had floated on a spar all night, ..^id had been picked up early in the morning by a passing ship, and taken to another port. Great was the joy of the meeting of flither, mother, and child ; and deeply thankful they were to God for His mercy. Nor did they ever forget how much their noble dog had done for them. XVII.— THE VIOLET. Down in a ^een and shady bed, A modest violet grew ; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view. And yet it was a lovely flower, Its colors bright and fair ; It might liave graced a rosy bower, Instead of hiding there. Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed. And there it spread its sweet perfume, Within the silent shade. Then let me to the valley go, This pretty flower to see ; Tliat I may also learn to grow In sweet humilit\-. Jane Taylcy). nil n 48 Second Reader. I XVIII.— THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERD. John was a littlo sliophcrd ])()y who lived a long time ago in (lerniany. One day he was watching his sheep as they fed in a meadow not far from a great wood, wlien a hunter came out of the forest, and asked : " How far is it to the nearest town, my good boy ? " '' It is six miles, sir," he answered. " But the road is only a sheep track, and it is very easy to miss it." The hunter looked about him and said : '' My lad, I am very hungry and tired, for I have been lost in this wood. If you will leave your sheep here and show me the way, I Avill pay you well." " I cannot leave my sheep, sir," said the boy. ** They would wander into the wood, and be eaten by wolves or stolen by robbers." *' Well, what of that ? " answered the hunter. " They are not your sheep. The loss of one or two would not be much to your master, and I will aive vou more than \ou hav e ear ned ni a w hole year ?5 '*My time does not belong to me, for my master pays f any of the sheep were lost Sir, I cannot ao," answered John. > 1 me for it. Besides, i rr Ihe Faith rrr. Siiki-hkud. 40 I should he to blame as much as if I liad stolon them." "Well, then," said the hunter, ''will you trust your sheep with me, while you go to the village and get ine some food and a guide ? I will take care of them for you." The boy shook his head. "The sheep," said he, "do not know your voice, and — " he stopped speaking. "And what?" asked the hunter. "Cannot you trust me ? Do I look like a thief ? " "You are not so bad as that," said John, " but you tried to make me Ijreak my word to my master, and so not be true to my trust. And how do I know that you >vould keep your word ? " The hunter laughed, for he felt that the lad was right. Then he said : — "I see, my boy, that you can be trusted. I will not forget you. Show me where to find the sheep path that you spoke about, and I will try to follow it without a guide." John then offered the hunter the food which he had brought for lunch that day ; and, coarse as it was, the hungry man ate it gladly. While he was eating, there was a shout in the forest, and several other hunters came up. t ii 50 Second Rkadkb. Then, to liis groat surprise, Jolm leai'iied that the mail to whom ho had talked so plainly was th 'li led all the counti I. aroiinc iJie prmee was so pleased witii tuo ooy s honesty that he soon afterwards sent for him to come to the city. And so Jolm, dressed in his best suit, and carrying his shoes imder his arm, went to visit the great man in his fine palace. " I believe that you are a boy who can always be ti'usted," said the prince, *'and so I want you to hve with me. You shall be as one of my family, and shall have books and teachers, and everything else that is needed to help you along the true road to manhood." Smile a little, smile a little, As you go along, Not alone when life is pleasant, But when thinos go wrong. Care delights to see you frowning, Loves to hear you sigli ; Turn a smiling face upon her, Quick the dame will fly. A Ni(iHT WITH A Wolf. 61 r~ -~ — i * ^■^y^J^^L '«^ V * -/ -I < ' ■ ■ \ 1 * , 1 « ' ) > ^-^ ■ ^ll' ■^h ■' f t'-- '■ ■ , / ''■ .. ' '' . n L I ' I'M... -J ■■' . .', '.~i,. . -I. k i^^ :'■ k- -7 ^f^' ^ %m' ymttVi; ^ .'"> 3^ ,„,., v' .\W >\\XwVd 1 iV'' ■ ' , ' W» ', ,.j\ll^.Vj|i'l'|MlM).HiliW' wKi.JSjSFF^S'wtXSM/SWBril'mnnmV^ XIX.-A NIGHT WITH A WOLF. Little one, coine to my knee ! Hark how the rain is pouring Over the roof, in the pitch-black night, And the wind in tlio woods a-roaring ! Hush, my darling, and listen. Then pay for the story with kisses : Father wa- lost in the pitch-black night, In just such a storm as this is ! High up on the lonely mountains^ Where the wild men watched and waited ; Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush, And I on my path belated. The rain and the nicrlit toorether Came down, and the wind came after, Bending the props of the pine-tree roof. And snapping many a rafter. i fi: 52 Second Beader. I crept along in the darkness, Stunned, and bruised, and blinded — Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs. And a sheltering; rock behind it. There, from the blowing and raining, Crouching, I sought to hide nie : Something rustled, two green eyes shone, And a wolf lay down beside me. Little one, be not frightened : I and the wolf togetlier. Side by side, through the long, long night Hid from the awful weather. His wet fur pressed against me ; Each of us warmed the other ; Each of us felt, in the stormy dark, That beast and man were brother. And when tlie falling forest No longer crashed in warning, Each of us went from our hiding-place Forth in the wild, wet morning. Darling, kiss me in payment ! Hark, how the wind is roaring ; Father's house is a better place When the wstormy rain is pouring! Doing is the great thing. For if people do what is right, in time they come to like doing it. f. IK? I I- A Lesson from the Birds. 53 XX. -A LESSON FROM THE BIRDS. . ,0m>' Two wood-cutters used to go into the forest together every day to cut wood. Each of them had a family of young children, and they used to work very hard to earn their daily food. One of the men was bright and cheerful, always hoping for the best. The other was gloomy, and full of fears about the future. " How hard it is to be so poor," he would often say, '^ If I should fall ill, what would become of my wife and children ? " " One day, as they were going through the forest, they saw two birds' nests in a tree. The mother-birds were sitting on their eggs. The wood-cutters watched the nests day after day, till they heard the young birds crying " Peep- peep," and saw the parents busily feeding their little ones. One morning, as the gloomy man was going- past the tree by himself, he saw one of the mother-birds flying towards her nest, with some food in her mouth for her little ones. Just at that moment a hawk darted down upon her and bore her away in his claws. " Poor bird ! " cried the wood-cutter, ** what will become of your young ones now? They 54 Second REAbEtt. ,ve lost their mother, and they will die of hun- t. That is exactly what my children would 4o, if anything should happen to me." He kept thinking about this all day. It made him feel so sad that he went home by another road at night, because he could not bear to hear the cry of the starving birds. Next morning, however, he went to the nest to bury the poor motherless birds, for he was sure they would all be dead. When he came to the tree, what was his slir- prise when he saw the other mother-bird flying to the nest of the orphans. Their little heads were lifted up, their little mouths were open, and their kind neighbor was feeding them just as she fed her own. At this moment the cheerful wood-cutter came along, and learned with great surprise all that had taken places " Ah, is not that beautiful ? " said he. " If these poor little birds are so strangely helped, surely we should not be afraid." " Never again ! " answered his friend. " If you are ever sick, I will take care of your wife and children, as this kind mother-bird is doing. If I am ill, I know you will do the same for me. And if anything should happen to us both, we may be sure that God will take care of our families in some way." ^HE Nest. 55 XXI.— THE NEST. Over my shaded doorway, Two little brown- winged birds Have chosen to fashion their dwelling, And utter their loving words ; All day they are going and coming On errands frequent and fleet. And warbling over and over, " Sweetest, sweet, sweet, O sweet ! " Their necks are changeful and shining, Their eyes are like living gems ; ^ id all day long they are busy jrathering straws and stems. Lint and feathers and grasses, And half forgetting to eat, Yet never failing to warble, " Sweetest, sweet, sweet, O sweet ! " I scatter crumbs on the doorstep, And fling them some flossy threads ; They fearlessly gather my bounty, And turn up their graceful heads. And chatter and dance and flutter. And scrape with their tiny feet, Telling me over and over, " Sweetest, sweet, sweet, O sweet ! " What if the sky is clouded ! What if the rain comes down They are all dressed to meet it, In waterproof suits of brown. ■i| w 56 Second Readeu. They never mope nor languish, Nor ninnnnr jil .storm or heat, But say, whatever the weather, " Sweetest, sweet, sweet, O sweet ! " Always merj^ and busy, Dear little brown-winged birds! Teach me thi; happy magic Hidden in these soft words. Which alwa3'^s, in shine or shadow, So lovingly you repeat. Over and over and over, " Sweetest, sweet, sweet, () sweet ! " XXII.-GOOD EXAMPLE. Few boys are brave enough to walk the path of duty, when their companions start to sneer or laugh at them. Nothing prevents good being done amongst young and old so much as mockery. The boy v.dio will quietly bear it, and go steadily on, is truly brave. Such a lad was Tom Phelan. Tom was a ])right ])oy, full of fun and play when these were in order, but intent upon study when once Avithin the school. And, what is more to our purpose, he was a most truthful Good Example. 57 ill boy. It was througli this love of iruth that he (lid so much good amongst his companions. The teacher before closini^ the school used to call the roll. If a boy had not whispered, or otherwise broken the rule, he answered "ten" when his name was called. This was the number of his good-conduct marks for the day. Tom had started at this school that very morn- ing. When his turn came, instead of saying " ten " he replied calmly, but firmly : "I have whispered." "More than once ?" asked the teacher. *'As many as ten times ?" " Maybe I have," was the truthful reply. *' That is too bad. This is your first day, and I can give you no marks. You ought to feel ashamed," said the teacher. Tom did not make any answer. After school was dismissed Frank Lee said to him, as they were walking home together : *' Why did you not say ' ten ' ? I never heard you speak." " Perhaps you did not," said Tom, " but I did speak several times. I saw others doing it, and I thought it was allowed. I asked a boy next to me to show me the lesson, and I answered another when lie borrowed a pencil. Afterwards I asked a boy for the loan of his knife. Then } ii :riti 58 Second Reader. i'l U this afternoon I asked my cousin for a sheet of paper. I would not have done so, if I had known it was against the rules." ''Oh, we all do that sort of thing," said his cousin, coming up to To n as he was explaining. " There is no senwe in :iich an old rule. Nobody could keep it. Nobody tries to." " I will either keep it, or own that I have not done so," was the noble answer. " Do you suppose, that I try to get marks by cheating ? That is not the lesson you or I learn from our parents." '* We do not call that cheating," replied Frank Lee. If we were so strict, not one of us would get a single mark." " That does not matter," said Tom, " as long as you tell the truth." Tom kept on his even way, working and studying as well as he could, but never failing to acknowledge a fault if he committed one. He never preached to the others, and never told tales upon them. But they soon began to feel ashamed and guilty. They liked him for his firmness in keeping his word. The teacher saw into his manly, truthful soul, and respected him. At the end of the term Tom felt sad when he found his name low down on the list. When it The Miller of the Dee. 59 was read out he had hard work to keep back . the tears. *' Boys," said the teaelier in making his usual speech before sending them home for the hoh- days, '' I w ish to know to whom I should give the prize for work and truthfulness." " Tom Phelan," shouted the school, at once. " That is right, my dear boys," said the master. *'And try, all of you, to follow his example." XXIII.-THE MILLER OF THE DEE. There dwelf .. miller, hale and bold, Beside the river Dee ; He worked and sang from morn till night, No lark more blithe than he ; And this the burden of his song Forever used to be, " I envy nobody — no, not I, And nobody envies me." "Thou'rt wrong, my friend," said good king Hal; " As wrong as wrong can be ; For could my heart be light as thine, I'd gladly cliange with thee ; And tell me now, what makes thee sing. With voice so loud and free, While I am sad, though I'm the king, Beside the river Dee," •111 1 • 00 Second Keader. The miller smiled, nnd doffed his cap, "I earn my bread," (pioth he; " I love my wife, I love my friend, I love my children thret;; I owe no penny I can not pay: I thank tlu^ river J)ee, That tnrns the; mill that orindH the corn, That feeds my babes and me." " Good friend," said Hal, and sighed the while, " Farewell, and happy be ; But say no more, if thon 'dst be true, That no one envies thee: Thy mealy cap is wortli my crown; Thy mill, my kingdom's fee; Such men, as thou, are Enoland s boast, (3 Miller of the Dee." — Charhs Mackay. A High Aim. XXIV.~A HIGH AIM. 61 \ I I " What are you doing, Felix ? " " I am cutting my name up here, grandfather. I've ahnost finished." As he spoke the boy dropped lightly down from the branch to which he had been clinging in order to carve his name high up on the old tree. *^ It's my name and the date of to-day. I cut it because this is my birthday, and because you gave me this new pocket-knife." *' Are you always going to- make a high mark as you go along ? " Felix did not quite know what his grandfather meant. *' Wherever you go, my boy, you are sure to leave a mark of some kind," continued he. ** All through your school life you will do so. It will be written in the books of the school that a boy of your name was there, and left either a high or a low record. '' But you are making marks of another kind. Every action you do, good or bad, leaves its mark on yourself, and helps to make you into a good or a bad man. Besides, boys very often do ■ii 62 Second Reader. as they see others do, so your example is leaving marks on your companions also. And these are marks which will last far longer than the name and date on the bark of the tree." " Will this last very long ? " asked Felix, as he glanced up at the letters and figures he had carved. " Come here," said his grandfather. Felix followed him round to the other side of the tree. He looked closely at some marks on the bark to which his grandfather pointed. "Why," he said, "that's your name, grand- father, and the date is eighteen hundred and forty-four. That's just fifty years ago." " Yes," said grandfather. " I cut these when I was not much older than you are to-day." " Fifty years ! " said Felix, as he looked at those letters which had been cut such a very, very long time ago, as it seemed to him. "And will my name stay here for fifty years ? '* " I suppose so, unless the tree is cut down. If you live for fifty years, you will still find it here. Your hair will be gray then" — grand- father laid his hand on the curly brown head — " and I shall be over there on the hillside," he added, pointing to the little churchyard in the distance. i A High Aim. 63 J' id *' But I shan't want to come here then, grand- father," said Felix, with tears very near to his eyes. "Oh yes, you will. You will have other things to think about then. And I trust, Felix, that when you come here and see the letters you cut so long ago, you will })e able to say, * If grandfather could see me to-day, he would see that I have not forgotten what he said to me on my birthday so long ago.'" Grandfather walked slowly across the meadow towards the house. Felix looked after him for a few moments, and then turned again to the tree. "Grandfather is right," he said to himself, " and I must never forget what he has said. If t do not try to make good high marks of the kind he spoke of, I shall be ashamed ever to come here and see my name on this old tree." n. To learn never to waste time is one of the hardest and most important lessons of life. A well-spent day gives great joy at night. Begin, then, when young to act earnestly and to persevere faithfully. What you do may not be great in the eyes of the world. If it is your duty, it will be great in God's eyes : that will be enough. !> " 64 Second Reader. XXV.-DO THE BEST THAT I CAN. ill! F : I " I cannot do much," said a little star, " To make the dark world bri«rht ; My silvery beams cannot pierce far Into the gloom of niojht; Yet I am a part of God's great plan, And so I will do the best that I can." " What can be the use," said a fleecy cloud, " Of these few drops that I hold ? They will hardly bend the lily proud, If caught in her chalice of gold ; But I, too, am part of God's great plan. So my treasure I'll give as well as I can." A child went merrily forth to play. But a thought, like a silver thread, Kept w^inding in and out all day Through the happy golden head ; Mother said, " Darling, do all that you can, For you are a part of God's great plan." She knew no more than the twinkling star, Or the cloud with its rain-cup full, How, why, and for what, all strange things are — She was only a child at school ; But she thought, " It is part of God's great plan, That even I should do all that I can." The Voice Within. G6 •v.,!. Su hIio lielporl a younger cliild along, When the road was rougli to the feet ; And .she sang from her heart a little song ' That we all thought wondrous sweet ; And her father, a weary, toil-worn man, Said, " I, too, will do the best that I can." XXVI.— THE VOICE WITHIN. The still small voice that speaks within, — I hear it when, at play, I speak the loud and angry word That drives my friend away. The voice within, the voice within, Oh, may I have a care ! It speaks to warn from every sin, And God has placed it there. If falsehood whispers to my heart To tell a coward lie, To hide some careless thing I've done, I hear the sad voice nigh. If selfishness would bid me kp.ep What I should gladly share, I hear again the inner voice, And then, with shame, forbear. I thank thee. Father, for this friend. Whom I would always heed ; Oh ! may I hear its slightest tone In every time of need ! —Alice Cary. i ■;).;= E it: I' I d6 Second IIeader. ¥ i XXVII.-AGOONACK, THE LITTLE ESKIMO. What is this odd-looking mound standing out here in the snow? It is the home of little Agoonaek, the Eskimo girl, who lives far up in the cold countries, amidst ice and snow. Do you see the low opening close to the ground? That is the door, but one must creep on hands and kne^s to enter. There is another smaller hole above the door : it is the window. It has no glass like ours, only a thin covering of something which Agoonack's father took from Agoonack, the Little Eskimo. eT the inside of a seal. Her mother stretched it over the window-hole to keep out the cold and to let in a little light. If we look far over the ice we shall see a funny, clumsy little girl running as fast as she can to keep up with her mother. You would hardly know her to be a little girl, she is so oddly dressed in the white, shaggy coat of the bear. Shall I tell you what clothes she wears ? Not at all like yours, you will say, but you will remember she lives in a very cold country. Her soft warm socks her mother has made from the skins of birds, with the soft down upon them. Over these come her moccasins of seal- skin. Next she wears leggings of white bear skin, and a little frock called a jumper. Pull the hood of the jumper over her short black hair, so as almost to hide her face and you have Agoonack dressed. Agoonack and her mother are coming home to dinner, but there is no sun shining on the snow to make it sparkle. It is dark like night, and the stars shine clear and steady like silver lamps in the sky. Far off, among the great icy peaks, strange lights are dancing, — shooting long, rosy flames far into the sky. The ice glows with the warm color, and the splendor shines on the little white-hooded girl beside her mother. !i ) 1. Second Reader. It is Agoonack's birthday, and there is a present for her before the door of the house. "It is a sled," you exclaim. Yes, a sled, but quite unlike yours. In the far-away cold countries no trees grow, so her father had no wood. He took the bones of the walrus and whale, and bound them together with strips of sealskin to build this pretty sled for his little daughter. "By the time this is finished." her father said to himself, "the two little brown dogs will be old enough to draw it, and Agoo- nack shall have them." You can imagine what gay frolics she has with her brother who runs at her side with his bone-bat or hockey, skimming it over the crusty snow. Now we shall creep into the low house wi:h the child and her mother, and see how they live. Outside it is very cold. Inside it is not only warm but very hot. It is not the sunshine that makes it warm. There is no furnace, neither is there a stove. All the heat comes from a sort of lamp with long wicks of moss and plenty of walrus fat to burn. It warms the small house, which has but one room, and over it the mother hangs a shallow dish in which she cooks soup. But most of the meat is eaten raw, cut into long- strips, and eaten much as one might eat a stick of candy. Agoonack, the Little Eskimo. 69 They have no bread, no crackers, no apples nor potatoes — nothing but meat, and sometimes the milk of the reindeer, for there are no cows in the far northern countries. The reindeer gives them a great deal; he is their horse as well as their cow. His skin and his flesh, his bones and horns are useful wdien he is dead ; and while he lives he is their kind, gentle and patient friend. When the men come home, dragging the great Nannook, as they call the bear, there is a merry feast. They cut long strips of bear's meat, and laugh and eat and sing as they tell the long story of the hunt, of the seals they have seen, and of the foot-tracks of the reindeer they have met in the long valley. Perhaps w^hile they are so merry, a very great snowstorm will come and cover the little house so that they can not get out for several days. When the storm is over they dig out the low doorway and creep again into the starlight. It is not always dark in these northern coun- tries. The beautiful sun returns after an absence of many months, to shine day and night. His warm rays melt the snow and awaken the few hardy, little flowers that can grow in this short summer. The icy coat breaks away from the clear, running water, and great flocks of birds If'' If I to Second Reader. with soft, white pkimage settle among the black rocks along the seashore. It is a merry life the Eskimos live while the sunshine stays. The childrer* play ball among the drifts, and climb the rock^ to catch the birds, with long-handled nets. The old men sit on the rocks and laugh and sing, and tell long stories of the whale and seal. Little Agoonack comes from her play to listen to the stories. She has no books; and if she had she couldn't read them. Neither could her father or mother read to her. Their stories are told and sung, but never written. And this is how Agoonack lives through the long darkness and the long sunshine. Would you like to live in the cold countries ? It is very cold, to be sure ; but there are happy children there and kind fathers and mothers, and the merriest sliding on the very best of ice and snow. A your*, , >^irl once asked herself : " Why am I placed in this world ; what have I to do ? If I might but do some good to myself, or another, if only for the short space of a minute in each day." "Nothing is easier," her angel said. "You have but to give a cup of cold water to one of Christ's little ones. Surely you can find a chance to do this every day." '^K A The Moon's Lullaby. 71 XXVIII.— THE MOON'S LULLABY. I am a shepherd, I wander on higli, Across the blue pastures far up in the sky, And the stars are my sheep, with fleeces of gold, That shine as they come from the heavenly fold ; And the shepherd and sheep will tenderly keep The dear little child in its innocent sleep. I love to send out my silvery beams. And light up the forests, and dance on the streams. And lo« 'k at the treasures, known only to me. Far down in the depths of the wonderful sea ; But 'tis greater delight to have only a sight Of a dear little head on a pillow so white. Sleep on, dearest child, and my golden sheep Shall ccme, one by one, through your window to peep; And -f^e light shall come out from each shining fleecfe And encircle your head with a halo of peace ; For the shepherd and sheep will tenderly keep The dear little child in its innocent sleep. ^j-" i \~: ! For each content in his place should dwell. And envy not his brother ; And any part that is acted well Is just as good as another. 1^ Second Reader. XXIX.-ST. AUGUSTINE. Many years ago there live d in Africa a holy Christian woman whose name was Monica. Sl.e had one son named Augustine (vv Austin), a clever boy, who, however, gave her much pain. Though he was fond of study, and got on well at school, he vras wilful and possessed of bad luibits. In spite of all that slie did to make him bettor, he spent his youth In all kinds of sin and folly. At school he fell in v itii many wicked com- panions ; and from tlit m he learnt to read bad books, and to go to shows and plays, where he v|uit(^ lost the fear of God. Augustine was very vain of his learning ; he forgot that the only real use of learning is to help us to serve God, and that if we do not know how to make this use of it, our knowledge is wortli nothing. Augustine's learning only made him pr« md ; he despised the words of his good mother when she begged him to lead a better life, and not to offend God by sin. He thought it v,vas beneath him to be taught by a woman ; and so he went on growing worse as he grew older. But Monica did not giva him up ; and though she wept over his sins, she still loved him dearly. X. • St. Augustine. 73 She spent her days in praying for him ; and she had such a firm trust in God's goodness, that she felt sure He would one day grant her prayers. Years went on in this way, but Augustine showed no signs of change. He still loved study, yet he did not trou})le himself about religion, and even joined some men who had once been Christians ; but were so no longer. This gave Monica more pain than all the rest ; yet she never ceased to pray for her son, that God would give him grace to amend his life. At last she went to see a holy old Bishop, whom she begged to speak to Augustine, hoping that her son would listen to his words. But the Bishop said, "It is of no use to speak to Augus- tine whilst he is so puffed up with pride ; we must wait a little, and in God's own time his heart will soften." Monica still pressed him to try what he could do with her son ; and, as she spoke, she wept so bitterly that the Bishop's heart was touched, and he said, " Go and con- tinue to pray for him as you have done for so long a time ; it cannot be that a child for whom his mother sheds h.uch tears should perish." After this Augustine went to Rome, and Monica followed him there. He was then thirty years old • and soon after he reached Rome he fell ill, and for many days lay at the point of HI 74 Second Reader. 9 death. But he did not die. God heard his mother's prayers, so that he got better ; and soon after this he began to change his life. While he was ill he grieved much for all the wrong he had done ; he saw how unhappy sin makes us, and that there is nothing really worth loving, or caring for, but God. It was hard for him at first to give up all his bad habits, but God gave him the grace to fight against them without ceasing ; and before St. Monica died, she had the joy of seeing him leading a pure and holy life. He became a priest, and was jitnorw. rds made a bishop. He wrote many books, and used his learning only to make men love and serve God. The whole Church soon heard of the fame of St. Augustine, and he is ranked amouj the greatest of her saints and doctors. How happy he was to have had so good a mother; and how often he must have wished that he had listened to her sooner, and that he had not spent his youth in sin ! Every hour that fleets so slowly, Has its task to do or bear ; Luminous the crown and holy, If thou set each gem with care. r..:/e^'> m The Quest. 75 XXX.— THE QUEST. There once was a restless boy Who dwelt in a home by the sea, Where the water danced for joy And the wind was glad and free : But he said, " Good mother, oh ! let me go ; For the dullest place in the world, I know, Is this little brown house, This old brown house. Under the apple tree. " I will travel east and west ; The loveliest homes I'll see ; And when I have found the best, Dear mother, I'll come for thee. I'll come for thee in a year tmd a day, And joyfully then we'll haste away From this little brown iiouse, This old brown house, Under the apple tree." So he travelled here and there. But never content was he, Though he saw in lands most fair The costliest homes there be. He something missed from the sea or sky, Till he turned again with a wistful sigh To the little brown house, The ?ld brown house. Under the apple tree. 76 Second Reader. Then the motlier saw i:.u smiled, While her heart grew glad and free. " Hast thou chosen a home, my child ? Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she. And he said, " Sweet niotaer, Irom east to west. The loveliest home, and the dearest and best, Is a little brown house, An old bro^v^l4 house, Under an apple tree." XXXI.— DON'T CROW TILL YOU ARE OUT OF THE WOODS. h m An old rooster, standing on a high fence, flapped his wings and crowed aloud, in the joy of his heart, to see the sun rise. Of course, his shrill notes echoed ftir and wide, and were heard by all the beasts in the forest. Among the rest, a fox was roused from his slumbers, and, having a sharp appetite for break- fast, came out of the woods ; but the fence was so high that he could not get at the rooster. So, looking up, the fox shouted, ''TTalloo there, Master Cock-a-doodle-doo ! why don't you crow a little louder i I am as deaf as a post, and can hear nothing but a squcnk. Can't you come Don't Chow till You a k Out of the Woods. 77 s down, and crow a little into my ear, just to pass the time pleasantly ? " " No, no ! Cousin Reynard, I know a trick worth two of that ; and that is neither more nor less than to stay whe*'e I am. One of the lessons that every rooster's mother teaches him is, * not to crow till he is out of the woods, and in a safe place.' " To this the fox said rather sharply, "You don't mean to say, Mi\ C'hanticleer, that I would take advantage of your kindness ? " *' Of course not!" said the rooster. ** No doubt you are honest enough ; but suppose some enemy of mine should come in sight, who is to save me froin his clutches ? " '' Y'ery true," said the fox ; ** but is it possible * you have not heard that King Lion has pro- claimed a general peace among the whole of his subjects?" The rooster took no notice of the remark, but kept his eye fixed on a distant point. " Well, you might be civil, at any rate," con- tinued the fox ; " but pray what are you looking at so earnestly ? " '* 0^1 ! nothing in particular. I was only wonder- ing what those dogs were after." ;) Wf 78 Second Reader. "Ah ! in that case," said the fox, ** I must bo off." " Oh, no ! don't go yet. You forget that these are peaceable times." "Yes, yes!" said Reynard, running off; "but I am afraid the dogs haven't lieard of the pro- clamation." XXXII.— TADPOLES AND FROGS. m Did you ever notice, when you have been near the side of a pond, masses of little eggs about the size of a pea, which float on the surface of the water, generally lying among the long grass at the edge of the pond ? Well, suppose you were to come back again in a few days to the same place, do you think you would find these dark-looking eggs still there ? No ! they would all be gone ; and in their places you would see numbers of funny little black creatures with very big heads and flat, thin tails, which make them look somewhat like fishes. These little black creatures are called tadpoles. They grow very fast, because they eat ar great deal. Little legs grow out from the sides of Tadpoles and Fhoos. 19 tlieir body; tho tail disappears; and the animal is no longer a tadpole, but a little frog, jumping about just as you have often seen frogs do. The frog not only drinks with its mouth, lait sucks up water through a great many littki holet in its skin, just as a sponge does if put into a basin of water. A gentleman once caught a number of frogs, which he kept in a bowl of water. As long as there was plenty of water in the basin, they looked fat and well; but if he took them out when the weather was very hot, they soon grew thin and ill. These frogs became quite tame, and learned to take their food from their master's hand. They were very fond of flies, and were very clever in catching them. So when the fruit for the gentle r 80 Second Reader. man's dessert was laid out in the storeroom, these frogs were placed around it, to act as little police- men to keep the flies from spoiling it ; and they did their work very well indeed. Now there are some very funny things about the frog, which you should watch for when you see it. One is, that after it has worn its coat for some time and thinks it is becoming very tight, it makes up its mind to get rid of it ; and as this is very curious, I will tell you about it. When a number of frogs have made up their minds to change their skins, having, of course, new ones underneath, several of them begin at the same time. Two of its companions hold the one whose coat is to come off, tight around the middle of its body. Then one or two others give little bites and pulls at its skin, till first one leg, and then another, and at last the whole body is set free, and the frog appears with such a clean white skin that I am afraid it must be very vain. Do you wish for a kindness ? Be kind. Do you wish for a truth ? Be true. What you giv^e of yourself you find, Your world is a reflex of you, The Right Sort of Revenge. SI XXXIII.— THE RIGHT SORT OF REVENGE. • " No, I will never forgive him ! " exclaimed Harry Jones, bursting into the room where his mother was seated at her work. " I will never forgive him." " Never forgive whom, Harry ? My dear boy, how excited and angry you look ! Who has offended you?" "Why, Charles West, mother," replied Hariy, as he put away his school-books in their place. "And what has Charles done to offend you? Come and sit by me, and tell me about it." "Well," said Harry, "Mr. Raymond, who is a friend of Mr. Matthews, and who is staying with him, came into the schoolroom to-day, and offered a prize of a quarter to the boy who should first do a sum he would give us. " He gave us all the same sum, and we all set to work. Charles West sat next to me, and I saw him copy the figures from my slate. "When I had only one more figure to make, Mr. Matthews left the room. I looked to see who went out ; and when I turned to my slate again, every figure was rubbed out. " 1 knew Charles had done it, because he got red in the face. In a minute he had finished 6 8^ ^ND Reader. 'i his sum ; it was first done, and correct ; so he got the quarter. But I mean to have a glorious revenge." "And what is your glorious revenge to be, Harry?" " Oh, I know ; and I will tell you. Mr. Matthews says he will expel any boy from the school who uses the Key to Grammar Exercises. I saw Charles using one yesterday ; and I have made up my inind to tell of it." " Listen to me a moment, Harry. Charles is to remain at school one year more ; and a gentle- man has promised, if he behaves well, to place him, at the end of that time, in a situation where in a few years he will be able to support his widowed mother. *' Now, if he is turned out of the school in disgrace, do you think the gentleman will give him the situation ? And what would be the feeling;* of his poor mother, to think that her son, who she hoped would be a support and comfort in her old age, had disgraced himself?" " Oh, mother ! " said Harry, with tears in his eyes, " I did not think of all that. I would not ruin I)im for all the world. But he did make me very angry at the time, and I should like to punish him a little for it." The Right Sort of Revenge. 8d " Well, Harry, I know of a way to punish him, and to have a really glorious revenge. * Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good.* " Harry thought long over his mother's advice before he decided what to do. When he had made up his mind, he asked permission of his mother to invite Charles West to tea. The permission was readily given, and they had a very pleasant evening together. Their chief amusement was sailing a pretty ship on a pond in the garden. When the time came for Charles to go home, Harry said, " I will make you a present of the ship. Here it is." '* Oh, no ! " cried Charles, stepping back, " I could not think of such a thing." " Oh, but, Charlie, you must have it. Mother says I may do what I like v/ith ii. Besides, I can make another just like it." Charles turned away his head to hide his tears. " Harry," he said, ''I will never try to injure you again, as I did yesterday ; no, I never will." From that day the boys became fast friends. Charles gave up the use of the K ey to the Exer- cises ; he tried to imitate his friend's example ; .'ind }j/' g/iined the esteem of his master, and the love of Jiin schoolfellows. B4 Second Reader. XXXIV.-SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. The woman was poor, and old, and gray, And bent with the chill of the winter's day ; The street was wet with a recent snow, And the woman's feet were aged and slow. She stood at the crossing, and waited long. Alone, uncared for, amid the throng Of human beings who passed her by, Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eve. Down the street, with laughter and shout, Glad in the freedom of " school let out," Came the boys like a flock of sheep, Hailing the snow, piled white and deep. Somebody's Mother. 86 Past the woman so old and gray, Hastened the children or. their way, Nor offered a helping hand to her, So meek, so timid, afraid to stir Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet Should knock her down in the slippery street. At last came one of the merry troop — The gayest laddie of all che group ; He paused beside her and whispered low, " I'll help you across if you wish to go." Her aged hand on his strong, young arm She placed ; and so, without hurt or harm. He guided the trembling feet along. Proud that his own were firm ar^^ strong. Then back to his friends again he went, His young heart happy, and well content. " She's somebody's mother, boys, you know, For all she's aged, and poor, and slow ; " And I hope some fellow will lend a hand To help my mother, if she should stand " At a crossing, weary, and old and gray, When her own dear boy is far away." / nd "somebody's mother" bowed low her head In her home that night, and the prayer she said Was, " God, be kind to the noble boy, Who is somebody's son, and pride, and joy.'* i)<; Short life is theirs who know not self-restraint. 86 Second Reader. XXXV.— CHASING A RAINBOW. i *.i One summer afternoon, when I was about eight years old, I was standing at a window, looking at a beautiful rainbov/ which, bending from the sky, seemed to be losing itself in a thick, swampy wood, about a quarter of a mile distant. It happened that there was no one in the room with me then but my brother Rufus, who had been sick and was now just able to sit propped up \\ ,\ pillows in an easy chair. ''See, ' -other," I said, "it drops right down among the cedars, where we sometimes go to gather wintergreens ! " " Do you know, Grace," said my brother, ''tiiat if you should go to the end of the rainbow, you would find there purses filled with money, and great pots of gold and silver?" *' Is it truly so ? " I asked. " Truly so," he answered. Now I was a simple-hearted child, who be- lieved everything that was told me, although I had been again and again deceived. So, with- out another word, I darted out of the door, and set forth towards the wood. My brother ^^alled after me as loudly as he could, but I did not heed him. Chasing a Rainbow. 87 I cared nothing for the wet grass, which was soiling my clean dress ; on and on I ran, sure that I would soon reach the end of the rainbow. I remember how glad and proud I felt, and what fine presents I expected to give to all my friends. So thinking, and laying delightful plans, I soon reached the cedar grove ; but the end of the rainbow was not there ! I saw it shining down among the trees a little farther away ; and so I struggled on, pushing my way through thick bushes and climbing over logs, until I came within sound of a stream which ran through the woods. Then I thought, " What if the rainbow should come down right in the middle of that deep, muddy brook ! " Ah ! but I was frightened for my heavy pots of gold and silver ! How should I ever find them there, and how should I get them out ? I reached the bank of the stream, but the rainbow was not there. I could see it a little way off on the other side. I crossed the brook on a fallen tree ; and then ran on, though my limbs seemed to give way and my side ached from weariness. The woods grew thicker and darker, the ground more wet and swampy, and I found, as many grown people liavc found, that in a journey after riches there is much hard travelling. Suddenly I met in my way a large porcupine, 88 Second Readek. who made liimself still larger when he saw me, just as a cross cat raises its liack at a dog. Fearing that he wouid shoot his sharp quills at me, I ran from him as fast as my tired feet could carry me. In my fright I forgot to keep my eye on the rainbow ; and when at last I i» mem[)ered and looked for it, it was nowhere in sight ! It had quite faded away. When I saw that it was indeed gone, I Inirst into tears ; for I had lost all my treasures, and had nothing to show for my journey but muddy feet and a wet and torn dress. I turned about and set out for liome. XXXVI.— EASTER. '' Mother," said Tom, " to-morrow will be Easter, and do not forget to give us eggs for breakfast." ''Why, my child," asked the mother, *' do you want eggs more on Easter than on any other morning ? " " Oh ! everybody eats eggs on Easter," was the reply. " Please tell us, mother, why they do." " Well, Tom," and the good mother drew her boy to her side, *M had better first tell you about Easter itself" Easter. 89 i '* Yoii know tliat our Blessed Lord died for us upon the Cross on Good Friday. His followers took His sacrcJ body do>\n and bound it in linen cloths with spices, and laid it in a newly- made grave and sealed the tomb. The Jews placed a guard of soldiers to watch lest the I Apostles might steal away the body. All that Friday night and all the next great day of the Sal)bath our dear Saviour lay there. And in the end of the Sabbath, when it began to dawn towards the first day of the week, the stone that enclosed the tomb was i* lletl awav, and Jesus i 90 Second Reader. Christ rose from the dead. The guards were filled with terror at thr appearance of the angel." " To whom did our Lord appear first ? What did He look like ? Did He have His wounds ?" were the questions eagerly asked by the boy. " One question at a time, if you please," answered his mother. " The gospel tells us that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene. But although it is not mentioned, our Lord no doubt appeared first to His dear Mother. To her indeed was Easter a day of joy." ^' Now you wish to know what our Saviour was lilve after He rose from the grave. It is hard ft)r you, and in Jf^ed for me, to understand. After His resuiTecii\>n our Lord could assume any form He visheuL When He first appeared to Mary Magdalene she mistook Him for the gardener. Another time when He walked with two of His apostles from Jerusalem to a town called Emmaus, they did not know Him. Some- times He bore the marks of His wounds, as when entering the room where Thomas and the other apostles were gathered for fear of the Jews. Then Jesus told Thomas to put his finger into His wounded hands, and his hand into the wounded side. But, my dear child, we know that our Blessed Lord wears His wounds in Easter. 91 heaven, like the jewels at a feast. They bear witness to Ilis love on the Cross, and they plead with God the Father for our sins." "But, mother, you have forgotten about the eggs." ** Not quite, my boy. r is dear to us not only because our Lord -t f rose from the dead, but because it is thu pk dge that we, too, shall some day rise. Now the egg is the image both of the tomb and the resurrection of the body. The Christian remains in the grave until it pleases God to break the shell which, like death, has kept him captive. In the tombs of martyrs even the shells of eggs have been found. In some churches an egg is hung in the sanc- tuary on Easter, as a pledge of hope, and in the blessing of eggs there is special mention of the resurrection of our Lord. For these reasons, as well as the fact that I hope it will be a real feast for you, you shall have eggs to-morrow." —Bev. J. R. Teefy. m if.'! m Be kind and be gentle To those that are old, For dearer is kindness And better than gold. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET {MT-3) // {./ A y. ^ 1.0 I.I li «^ 14J) 12.0 2.5 2.2 1.8 11.25 111111.4 11.6 V] <^ /] % /: >^ '^y*.'^ o / Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 i 92 Second Reader. XXXVII.— THE ROBIN. 1^ t'l I My old Welsh neighbor over the way Crept slowly out in the sun of spring, Pushed from her ears the locks of grey, And listened to hear the robin sing. Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped, And, cruel in sport as boys will be. Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped From bough to bough in the apple-tree. " Nay!" said the grandmother, "have you not heard, My poor bad boy, of the fiery pit. And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird Carries the water that quenches it ? " He brings cool dew in his little bill, And lets it fall on the souls of sin ; You can see the mark on his red breast still Of fires that scorch as he drops it in. " My poor red breast ! my breast-burned bird, Singing so sweetly from limb to limb, Very dear to the Heart of our Lord Is he who pities the lost like Him ! " " Amen ! " I Su,id to the beautiful myth ; " Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well ; Each good thought is a drop wherewith To cool and lessen the fires of hell, I The Word of God. 93 ' Prayers of love like rain-drops fall. Tears of pity are cooling dew, And dear to the Heart of our Lord are all Who suffer like Hiui in the good they do ! " — John Oreenkaf Whittier. ''•} i ;?■ 1 ■• XXXVIIL— THE WORD OF GOD. God's Word is almighty. It will save man from any danger. We read of its wonderful power in many an old legend. But God the Almighty is always the same, and His wonders have not ceased, as you will see by this incident, which happened not very long ago. Like many other men, Mr. Smith had gone, in the beginning of the .war, to do his duty as a soldier. He left his wife and an only child, a little boy of about eleven years of age, living alone in their little cottage. This was quietly but prettily situated among the tall elm trees, having as the only neighbors the church on the opposite side of the road, and the brook with the mill at the end of the garden. At evening Mrs. Smith used to sit in her littlie parlor sewing. Charlie sat beside her, busily studying his lessons, reading to his mother, or drawing little pictures— the last his favorite occupation. One night they had been :i'!l it; t 94 Second Reader. 'U sitting thus rather later thcin usual. Letters from father had arrived — good news about the progress of the war, together with hopes of an early visit from him. After Mrs. Smith had gone to bed, Charlie still stood at the window in his room, thinking and dreaming. He had no lamp burning, but the bright moonlight came in through the open window ; the little church-tower over the way looked grand and solemn against the clear night sky. The tops of the elm trees whispered, the brook murmured, the mill-wheels rattled, and Charlie thought : *' Where might father be now ? Is he awake, too, thinking of home ? And when he comes home, what will he say about mamma, whether I took good care of her, and ' out my lessons and my drawings, and the Cicod I learned by heart, and the Commandments ? But do I re- member them still ? Lst me try : what says the seventh Commandment?" And in his zeal he spoke aloud : *' Thou shalt not steal." Scarcely had the boy said these words when, quite near him, he heard a loud scream, saw a dark figure run from behind the porch, right across the road, and disappear among the tomb-stones. This was too much even for Charlie's courage. In a minute he was in The Word of God. 95 bed, the blanket over his ears. Forgotten were Commandments, Creed, drawing and lesson ; and all he did that night was to dream about ghosts. The next morning Charlie was just going to tell his mother the adventure of last night when the priest of the village came in. He seemed greatly moved, and, " God bless you ! yes, God has blessed you ! " he exclaimed, again and again ; and as Mrs. Smith looked rather astonished, he said : " You may well look at me in surprise. God has done a wonder, and sent His angel to preserve you. Last night a man had stolen to your house for the purpose of robbing you. Already was he hidden behind the porch, when — so he told me, with fear and trembling — an angel called to him from above : ' Thou shalt not steal 1 ' "He fled, came to me in the middle of the night, confessed his sins, asked forgiveness, and likewise bade me tell you what you now know." Deeply moved, Mrs. Smith listened to these words. Charlie looked all surprise and wonder, but only after the priest had left could he calm himself enough to explain that strange voice to his mother. And they both, with hearts and words, praised God and His won- derful Word, which never ceases to be to man a fountain of ble.ssing and happiness. ¥: 111 96 Second Reader. 1 lii XXXIX.— IN THE ORPHAN HOME. They sat at supper on Christmas Eve, The boys of the orphan-school, And the least of them all rose up to say The quaint old grace in the old-time way, Which always had been the rule : " Lord Jesus Christ, be Thou our guest, And share the bread which Thou hast blessed." The smallest scholar sat himself down. And the spoons began to clink In the pewter porringers, one by one, But one little fellow had scarce begun »''4l yU In the Orphan Home. 07 When he stopped, and said, "I think" — And then he paused witli a reddened cheek, But the kindly master bade him " Speak ! " " Why does the Lord Christ never come ? '* Asked the child in a soft, shy way ; " Time after time we have prayed that He Would make one of our company, Just as we did to-day ; But He never has come, for all our prayer. Do you think He would, if I set Him a chair V' " Perhaps. Who knoweth ? " the master said, And he made the sign of the cross ; While the zealous little one gladly sped, And drew a chair to the table's head, . 'Neath a great ivy boss, Tlien turned to the door, as in sure quest Of the entrance of the Holy Guest. Even as he waited, the latch was raised, The door swung wide, and lo ! A pale little beggar-boy stood there. With shoeless feet and flying hair All powdered white with snow. " I have no food, I have no bed ; For Christ's sake take me in," he said. The startled scholars were silent all. The master dumbly gazed ; The shivering beggar he stood still, — The snowflakes melting at their will, — Bewildered and amazed At the strange hush ; and nothing stirred, And no one uttered a welcome word, — 1 i. i i":' [ :;; M! II l:|l 98 Second Readeh. ii' Till, glad and joyful, the same dear child Upraised his voice and said, — " The Lord has heard us now, I know ; He could not come Himself, and so He sent this boy instead, His chair to fill, His place to take, For us to welcome for His sake." Then, quick and zealous, every one Sprang from the table up. The chair for Jesus ready set Received the beggar cold and wet ; Each pressed his plate and cup. "Take mine! take mine!" they urged and prayed; The beggar thanked them, half dismayed. And as he feasted, and quite forgot His woe in the new content. The ivy and holly garlanded Round the old rafters overhead Breathed forth a rich, strange scent ; And it seemed as if in the green-hung hall Stood a Presence unseen, which blessed them all. O lovely legend of olden time. Be thou as true to-day ! The Lord Christ stands by every door. Veiled in the person of His poor. And all our hearts can pray, — " Lord Jesus Christ, be Thou our guest, And share the bread which Thou hast blessed.'* — Susan Goolidge (by permission of Little^ Brown