UCS8 UBRAM 
 
 ; /,
 
 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS, 
 
 Other Cliristmas Tales, 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. S. P. DOUGHTY. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 1ST I C H: O L S ^NT) 1STOYES 
 
 1865.
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PRINTED BY CHARLES H. CROSBY, 
 Koi. 11 & 13 Water Street.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 PLATING SANTA CLAUS 7 
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE 19 
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR 30 
 
 THE THANKSGIVING PABTY 40 
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY 48 
 
 APRIL FOOL'S DAY 61 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS TREE 70 
 
 A DREAM 77 
 
 No TIME LIKE THE PRESENT 87 
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY 104 
 
 I FORGOT . 123 
 
 THE SILVER MORNING AND GOLDEN DAT . 151
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 A MERRY Christmas and a happy New Year to you, 
 dear children ! This little volume comes to you as a 
 holiday gift, and in its pages we have endeavored to 
 show you that true and lasting happiness can be found 
 only in doing good to others. Let the lesson sink deep 
 into your hearts. Even the least among you can do 
 much good. Look around you. Do not wait for 
 some great opportunity to offer, but with willing hearts 
 and busy hands perform the most trifling acts of use- 
 fulness to others. Continue to do this throughout the 
 year, and we will promise you that Avhen another New 
 Year dawns upon the earth, you will look back with 
 rejoicing, giving thanks to your Heavenly Father that 
 you have found that true happiness which can never 
 be taken from you.
 
 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 " WAKE up, wake up, Emma ! " said little Caroline 
 Meredith, as she gently shook her sister very early 
 one winter's morning ; "I have something very pleas- 
 ant to tell you." 
 
 'What is it, Carrie?" answered the sleepy little 
 girl, as she rubbed her eyes, and tried to comply with 
 her sister's request to " wake up." 
 
 "Do you remember what day it is, Emma? To- 
 morrow will be Christmas ; and this evening will be 
 Christmas Eve." 
 
 " O Carrie, so it will ! " exclaimed Emma, now 
 fully awake ; " and we shall hang up our stockings ; 
 and, oh, what beautiful things Santa Glaus will bring 
 us!" 
 
 " And what fine times we shall have to-morrow ! " 
 continued Caroline. "Aunt Margaret and all our 
 cousins are coming to dine with us." 
 
 " Oh, it will be delightful ! " replied Emma. " We 
 can show them our presents, and perhaps they will
 
 PLAYING SA^TA GLAUS. 
 
 bring theirs to show to us ; and we shall play so hap- 
 pily together ! " 
 
 "And, you know, I have made a needle-book to 
 give Aunt Margaret ; and you have a work-bag for 
 her," added Caroline. " I am sure she will be 
 pleased." 
 
 " I know she will," said Emma ; " and father and 
 mother will be pleased with the little presents we 
 have got for them. I like to give things away ; don't 
 you, Carrie ? " 
 
 " Yes, very much," replied Carrie. " I should like 
 to be Santa Claus." 
 
 " Carrie ! what a funny Santa Glaus you would 
 make ! " exclaimed Emma ; and both of the little 
 girls laughed heartily at the idea. 
 
 " How I would come tumbling down the chimney, 
 with my bag full of toys ! " continued Caroline. " I 
 would fill your stocking just as full as it could be, 
 Emma." 
 
 Emma laughed again ; and then she was silent for 
 a few moments, and looked very thoughtful. 
 
 " Do you think Santa Claus fills the poor children's ' 
 stockings, Carrie?" she asked. 
 
 Carrie looked grave also, as she replied, 
 
 " I don't know, Emma. I would fill their stockings 
 if /were Santa Claus. But, Emma," she continued, 
 after a short pause, " you know there is not really any
 
 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS. 9 
 
 such person as Santa Glaus. It is our father and 
 mother, and other kind friends, who fill our stockings." 
 
 " I know that, Carrie ; and this makes me afraid 
 that the poor children do not have their stockings 
 filled ; because, you know, their friends have no money 
 to spend for toys and pretty presents. Don't you think 
 it would be a good plan for every rich child to be a 
 Santa Glaus to some poor child ? " 
 
 " 0, yes, Emma ! " exclaimed Carrie ; " I think it 
 would be a beautiful plan. How came you to think 
 of it ? " 
 
 " I do not know, Carrie ; but I suppose the good 
 angels whispered it to me. You know mother says 
 that all our good thoughts are from the angels." 
 
 " Well, that is a good thought, I am sure," replied 
 Carrie ; " and I am very glad that our father is rich, 
 so that we can play Santa Glaus. And then it is very 
 pleasant to live in such a handsome house, and have 
 such nice clothes and playthings ; don't you think so, 
 Emma ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," answered Emma ; " and I always feel 
 sorry for poor little children, who have none of these 
 good things. You know little Mary and Ellen Dray- 
 ton ? Their mother is very poor." 
 
 " I know she is, Emma ; but she always seems 
 cheerful, and the little girls look very happy. How 
 neat and clean they always look ! "
 
 10 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 " Yes, Carrie : but their clothes are very old and 
 patched ; aud they have very few books, and no play- 
 things but one rag baby. When mother sent me there, 
 the other day, to ask Mrs. Drayton about doing some 
 work for her, I stopped a few moments to talk to the 
 little girls." 
 
 " Let us be their Santa Glaus, if mamma is willing," 
 said Carrie. "I have got two little gold dollars that I 
 will spend for them." 
 
 " And I have two more," added Emma. " I meant 
 to have bought a large doll ; but I would rather give 
 the money to Mary and Ellen." 
 
 The little girls now hastened to dress themselves, 
 that they might go to their mother, and tell her of 
 their plan, and ask her consent to spend their money 
 in the way that they proposed. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith was quite willing, and, indeed, she 
 was much pleased that her little daughters had thought 
 of a way in which they might do good and give plea- 
 sure to others ; and she said that she would add two 
 more gold dollars to theirs, and would go with them to 
 buy the gifts for Mary and Ellen. 
 
 After breakfast was over, she talked a little more 
 with them on the subject, and told them that it would 
 not be best to spend all the money for books and toys, 
 because the little girls were much in need of warm 
 clothing, and it would be doing them more good to buy 
 some things of that kind.
 
 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 11 
 
 Caroline and Emma were willing to do as their 
 mother thought best ; but they begged her to buy a 
 few books and toys, because they thought it would 
 make the little girls so happy. They felt very happy 
 to find that six dollars would buy so many things. 
 There was not only a pretty dress for each little girl, 
 and some warm stockings and shoes, but also a dress 
 for Mrs. Drayton ; and there was still money enough 
 left for two pretty books, two dolls, and some other 
 toys. To these, Mrs. Meredith proposed that Caro- 
 line and Emma should add some of their own books 
 and playthings, which they could well spare ; aud she 
 said that she had several articles, which would be use- 
 ful to Mrs. Draytou, which she would put with those 
 they had bought. 
 
 The little girls could hardly contain their delight 
 when they saw all these nice presents packed in one 
 large basket, and another one filled with tea, sugar, 
 pies, cakes, a roasted chicken, and some other articles 
 of food, that Mrs. Drayton and her children might 
 have a good Christmas-dinner. 
 
 Carrie and Emma were so happy that they could 
 hardly wait for evening, that they might play " Santa 
 Clans," as they called it ; and they quite forgot to 
 think about the pretty presents which they hoped to 
 receive themselves, because they were so busy in 
 thinking of the joy that Mary and Ellen would feel 
 when the baskets should be unpacked.
 
 12 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 " Let us try to be patient, and wait until the girls 
 have gone to bed," said Carrie. " Mrs. Drayton sits 
 up very late to sew ; and, if mother will let John carry 
 the baskets for us, we will go and knock softly at the 
 door, and give her the things, and ask her to put some 
 of the toys into Mary's and Ellen's stockings. How 
 surprised they will be in the morning ! " 
 
 Emma readily agreed to this plan ; and, as the 
 house was very near, Mrs. Meredith was quite willing 
 that they should do so. 
 
 We will now leave them to pass a happy afternoon 
 in assisting their mother in some preparations which 
 she wished to make for the entertainment of the young 
 friends whom they expected to spend Christmas with 
 them, while we take a peep into Mrs. Drayton's neat 
 but humble dwelling. 
 
 Mary and Ellen were seated close by the side of 
 their mother, who was sewing busily on a pair of 
 coarse overalls, the last of a dozen pairs which she 
 had engaged to make. Mary had learned to sew 
 neatly enough to be of some assistance, and her mother 
 had just given her leave to hem the bottom of one of 
 the legs of the overalls ; while little Ellen was reading 
 aloud from a story-book, which had been given to her 
 at school as a reward for her good behavior. The 
 story which she was reading was a Christmas-tale ; 
 and it told of a happy family of children who gathered 
 around the beautiful Christmas-tree.
 
 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS. 13 
 
 When Ellen had finished her story, she laid down 
 the book, and seemed very thoughtful for a few 
 minutes. Presently she looked up in her mother's 
 face, and said, very gently, 
 
 " Will you please to let us hang up our stockings 
 to-night, dear mother ? This is Christmas Eve. I 
 should like a pretty tree like the one in the story ; but 
 it will be just as pleasant to hang up our stockings. 
 Don't you remember the pretty things that we found 
 in them one year, Mary, a good while ago, when 
 father lived in this world with us ? " 
 
 Mrs. Drayton's eyes filled with tears ; and Mary 
 whispered, 
 
 " Hush, Ellen ! you grieve poor mother." 
 
 " No, dear, she does not grieve me," replied Mrs. 
 Drayton, making an effort to speak calmly and cheer- 
 fully. " You may hang up your stockings, my chil- 
 dren ; but you must remember that mother has no 
 ' pretty things ' to put in them. The weather is now 
 becoming very cold, and you are in need of many 
 articles of clothing, which I am working hard to try 
 to procure for you. I shall take these overalls home 
 this evening ; and, if I get the money which I have 
 earned by making them, I will try to put something 
 useful into each stocking : but you must not expect to 
 find toys or candies." 
 
 Mary's countenance brightened as she exclaimed, 
 2
 
 14 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 " O mother ! I shall like a new apron better than a 
 toy ; for I have worn mine so long, and it looks so 
 very shabby." 
 
 But little Ellen looked sorrowful as she said, " I 
 wish you could buy just one stick of candy, mother, 
 only one ; half for Mary, and half for me." 
 
 " "Well, dear, I will try to do so, as it is for Christ- 
 inas," answered Mrs. Drayton ; and, at this reply, 
 Ellen's face was also bright with smiles. 
 
 Evening soon came : and, as their mother was 
 obliged to leave them alone while she carried home 
 the work which she had finished, the little girls con- 
 cluded to hang up their stockings, and go to bed early, 
 so that they need not feel lonely while she was gone. 
 They were soon fast asleep, and dreaming of the new 
 aprons and the stick of candy which they Avere to 
 receive the next morning. 
 
 When Mrs. Drayton promised her children these 
 things, she did not feel the least doubt that she should 
 be able to keep her promise ; for the man for whom 
 she had been working always paid her very punctually, 
 and on this night he would owe her nearly two dollars. 
 Of this sum, a large portion must be spent for food 
 and fuel ; but there would be enough left to buy an 
 apron for each of the little girls, and the stick of candy 
 which Ellen so much desired. 
 
 " Poor children ! it is not often that I can spend
 
 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 15 
 
 even one penny for them, except to purchase what 
 is really necessary," thought Mrs. Drayton, as she 
 entered the shop where she was to leave the work. 
 To her great disappointment, there was no one there 
 but a young lad, who told her that his employer had 
 gone away for the evening. 
 
 " You can leave the work," he added, " and call 
 again any day after Christmas. Mr. Williams will 
 settle with you." 
 
 Mrs. Drayton's heart was very sad as she silently 
 placed her bundle upon the counter and left the shop. 
 She had but six cents in the world ; and this must be 
 spent for a loaf of bread, or her little ones would 
 suffer for food on Christmas Day, when they expected 
 to be so happy. 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears as she passed the groups 
 of merry children, and heard them talking so eagerly 
 of the expected pleasures of the next day, and thought 
 of the empty stockings which her own darlings would 
 find when they awoke in the morning. But she was a 
 good woman ; and she tried hard to put away these 
 sad feelings, and to believe that the Lord would do 
 what was best for her and for her children. 
 
 ' ; I cannot buy the aprons," she said: "but I will 
 take a loaf of bread which was baked yesterday, 
 that will cost but five cents ; and, with the penny 
 which remains, I will buy the stick of candy. That 
 will comfort them a little."
 
 16 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 She went into the baker's shop for the loaf; and 
 the woman in attendance, who had often seen her 
 before with her two little girls, handed her two cakes, 
 saying kindly, 
 
 " Your children will like a cake for Christmas." 
 
 Mrs. Drayton thanked her, and walked homeward 
 with a lighter step ; for this would be such a treat to 
 the little ones, that they would almost forget the 
 promised aprons. 
 
 The last penny was spent for the candy ; and she 
 gently opened her own door, and entered noiselessly, 
 lest she should disturb the sleeping children. 
 
 " It will be but a poor Christmas," she said, as she 
 opened a small cupboard, and, placing the bread in its 
 accustomed place, looked around upon the scanty por- 
 tion of food which ii, contained ; " but we shall not 
 really suffer from cold or hunger, and this should 
 make us very thankful." 
 
 As she said this, she heard a low knock at the door ; 
 and, hastening to open it, she was surprised to find 
 Caroline and Emma Meredith, accompanied by John 
 bearing two large baskets. 
 
 " Have Mary and Ellen gone to bed ? " inquired 
 Carrie, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, they are both asleep, miss ; but I can awaken 
 them, if you wish." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " was the reply ; "we wanted them to be
 
 PLAYING SANTA CLAUS. 17 
 
 asleep, and so we waited as long as we could. "We 
 are playing Santa Claus ; and we have brought some 
 things for you and the girls." 
 
 " And we want you to put some in their stockings," 
 continued Emma. " Did they hang them up ? " 
 
 " They did, indeed, my dear young lady ; but I 
 little thought that they would be filled. I spent my 
 last penny for one stick of candy to divide between 
 them." 
 
 " Oh ! there is plenty of candy, and toys also, in the 
 baskets," replied Emma. " Fill the stockings full ; 
 and tell Mary and Ellen that Santa Claus sent them." 
 
 Mrs. Drayton's heart was almost too full to speak 
 as they wished her good-night ; and she could not help 
 weeping with joy as she unpacked the baskets, and 
 saw all the good and useful things which they con- 
 tained. 
 
 The stockings were soon loaded with toys and books, 
 and papers of cakes and candies ; the cupboard was 
 well filled with articles of food ; while the new clothes 
 were spread upon a chair, where the children could 
 see them when they awoke. 
 
 You may be sure it was a merry Christmas morning 
 both at Mrs. Meredith's and Mrs. Drayton's. 
 
 Carrie and Emma were full of joy, not only from 
 receiving a variety of beautiful presents, but from the 
 thought of the pleasure which Mary and Ellen would 
 2*
 
 18 PLATING SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 feel when they found their stockings so well filled. 
 And breakfast had not long been over, when the two 
 little girls came hand in hand, with sparkling eyes and 
 hearts full of gratitude, to thank the young ladies for 
 their kindness. 
 
 " Oh, we never saw so many pretty things ! " ex- 
 claimed Ellen. " Mary and I are so glad, and we 
 thank you so much ! Mamma cried when she saw us 
 jump and laugh so much when we awoke this morn- 
 \ng ; but she said she cried because she was glad too, 
 and not because she was sorry." 
 
 " Yes, she was very, very glad," said Mary. " We 
 needed all the things very much ; and poor mamma 
 had no money." 
 
 Mrs. Meredith and Carrie and Emma felt very 
 happy as they listened to these expressions of the chil- 
 dren's gratitude and joy ; and, when Mr. Meredith 
 heard the story, he said he would send a load of wood 
 and coal to Mrs. Drayton, that he might have his 
 share in " playing Santa Glaus."
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 " A HAPPY New Year to you, Lottie ! " exclaimed a 
 bright-eyed and neatly dressed little girl, as she tapped 
 at the door of a small apartment in the second story 
 of a large dwelling-house which was occupied by a 
 number of poor families. 
 
 The summons was answered, and the greeting re- 
 turned, by Lottie herself, who proved to be a pleasant- 
 looking little girl of about the same age as the visitor. 
 
 " A happy New Year to you, Miss Emily ! " she 
 replied ; " and thank you for calling to see me so early 
 in the morning. Will you walk in ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, Lottie : for I have several places 
 to go to ; and I must be at home in good season. 
 Mamma says that this is the day for the gentlemen to 
 make calls, and the ladies must stay at home ; but she 
 gave me leave to call upon you, and three or four 
 other little girls who go to sabbath school with me. 
 Here is a New-Year's gift for you, Lottie. Is your 
 mother well?" 
 
 (19)
 
 20 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, Miss Emily. Yes, my mother is 
 quite well. She will be here in a few moments." 
 
 " I will call and see her another time. Good morn- 
 ing, Lottie ! " And, with a kind smile, Emily ran 
 quickly down the steep stairs; and, in another moment, 
 Lottie heard the street-door close after her. 
 
 The " New-Year's gift " which she had handed to 
 Lottie was contained in quite a large and neatly folded 
 parcel ; and the little girl hastened to close the door 
 of the room, that she might examine it at her leisure. 
 
 She placed it upon the table, and untied the string; 
 but still she did not feel quite willing to unfold the 
 paper until her mother returned to share her pleasure. 
 
 She had not long to wait : for, just then, a step was 
 heard in the entry ; and her mother entered, with a 
 small basket on her arm, containing a few articles of 
 daily food which she had been purchasing. 
 
 The paper was quickly unfolded now ; and a neat 
 hood and shawl, with a pair of warm mittens, soon 
 appeared. 
 
 Lottie clapped her hands with delight. " Miss 
 Emily brought them to me, mother ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Is she not very kind ? Now I can go to sabbath 
 school all winter ; for my frock and shoes are quite 
 good yet : but my thin cape and my straw hat were 
 very cold." 
 
 "They were indeed, my child," replied Mrs. Wilton
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 21 
 
 (Lottie's mother) ; " and I am very grateful to the 
 young lady and her mother for their kindness in send- 
 ing you these warm garments. This is a happy New- 
 Year's Day for you." 
 
 Very happy did Lottie feel, and bright as the sun- 
 shine was her face, for some minutes : but then a 
 shadow seemed to come over her glad spirit ; and, 
 after a little thought, she said, almost sadly, " How 
 very happy Miss Emily must be to be able to give 
 such nice presents to poor people, mother! How I 
 wish I had something to give ! " 
 
 " And have you nothing, Lottie ?" asked Mrs. Wil- 
 ton, kindly. 
 
 " Nothing at all, mother. You know we are so 
 poor, that we need everything we have for ourselves." 
 
 " We are, indeed, quite poor, Lottie ; but that need 
 not prevent us from giving to others. You cannot go, 
 as Miss Emily does, and carry warm garments to 
 those who are poorer than yourself; but still you may 
 do much for their happiness and comfort. Give them 
 the love that is in your little heart ; and you will soon 
 find that you have no reason to say that you have 
 nothing to give." 
 
 " But love will not do them any good, mother," per- 
 sisted the little girl. " I want to be able to make 
 New- Year's gifts to those who are in want." 
 
 " Give them your love, and you will often find that
 
 22 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 the gifts will come of themselves, Lottie," replied her 
 mother. And, as she spoke, Lottie's countenance 
 brightened ; and she exclaimed, 
 
 " mother ! I know what I can do, if you are 
 willing. I can give a part of my breakfast to those 
 two little children up in the third story ; for you know 
 they are a great deal poorer than we are." 
 
 " I think they are, Lottie ; and you may divide your 
 breakfast with them, if you please. And here is a 
 New-Year's cake that the baker gave me for you when 
 I went for the loaf of bread." 
 
 " Such a nice large one ! and so pretty ! " said Lottie, 
 as she looked admiringly at the figures upon the cake. 
 " I can give a part of this to the children, mother." 
 
 "Very well: now eat your own bread, and then 
 you may go with theirs. So you will have the plea- 
 sure of making one New-Year's gift this pleasant 
 morning ; and if you keep your heart filled with love, 
 and all your servants busy in helping you to make this 
 love useful to others, you will find many opportunities 
 to make gifts before the day passes away." 
 
 ; - My servants, mother ! " exclaimed Lottie. " Who 
 are they ? " 
 
 Mr.-. Wilton smiled, as she replied, " You have two 
 bright eyes, Lottie ; and, with these, you can look 
 around for those who are in need of your assistance. 
 You have two quick ears with which to hear their
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 23 
 
 wants ; ami you have hands and feet which will cheer- 
 fully work at your bidding." 
 
 The shadow had quite gone from Lottie's heart and 
 irom her face : for she now began to see clearly what 
 her mother meant ; and she had already formed many 
 little plans for doing good. 
 
 A large portion of her own breakfast and of the 
 tempting cake were given to the hungry little children ; 
 and their joy, and the eagerness with which they ate 
 the food, showed that the gift was a most acceptable 
 one. 
 
 The next hour was passed in assisting her mother : 
 for, as Lottie justly observed, " Mother ought to have 
 a New- Year's gift as well as other people ; " and the 
 only thing she could give her would be a little more 
 help than usual. ** 
 
 Mrs. Wilton was glad to find her room in neat 
 order, and to be able to sit clown to her sewing at an 
 early hour: for she was making some garments, which 
 she had promised to have completed Avithin a few days; 
 and, if they were ready at the promised time, she was 
 to receive extra pay. 
 
 " And now, mother," said Lottie, " I will take the 
 basket, and try to find some bits of wood around the 
 new buildings. Perhaps I shall find some one to 
 whom I can make a New-Year's gift while I am 
 gone."
 
 24 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 " I have no doubt you will, dear," replied Mrs. Wil- 
 ton ; and Lottie ran merrily away, while her mother 
 employed her hands very busily, and her thoughts no 
 less so : for Xow-Year's Day brings many recollec- 
 tions, both sad and pleasant memories of years gone 
 by. Mrs. Wilton thought of the time when she had 
 a kind husband to love and care for her, and when a 
 fine manly boy, some two or three years older than 
 Lottie, was among her household treasures. Both 
 husband and son had long since passed to the spiritual 
 world ; and the poor widow was now obliged to work 
 hard for the support of herself and her little girl. But 
 she had a cheerful, uncomplaining spirit ; and she 
 trusted with full faith in our heavenly Father, who 
 never forsakes the widow and the fatherless. 
 
 The little that she could "earn with her needle was 
 not always sufficient to supply them with necessary 
 comforts ; but, as yet, they had never suffered from 
 cold or hunger. Often their most pressing wants, as 
 in the case of Lottie's hood and shawl, had been unex- 
 pectedly supplied ; and, thankfully acknowledging the 
 Providence which watched over them, the widow 
 Avorked away steadily and cheerfully, with little anx- 
 iety for the future. 
 
 But we must accompany little Lottie, as she bounded 
 merrily alo'ig, with her basket in her hand. The first 
 object which attracted her attention, when she reached
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 25 
 
 the new buildings, was an old woman, bent nearly 
 double with infirmity and age, slowly endeavoring to 
 gather a few of the chips which lay scattered upon the 
 ground. 
 
 " Poor old creature ! " thought Lottie, pityingly,. 
 " I have a great mind to fill her basket before I do 
 my own. There are not many children picking up 
 chips this morning : and I shall find enough, I dare 
 say." 
 
 " I will fill your basket for you," she said kindly, 
 as she drew near to the woman ; " and you can sit on 
 these boards, and rest." 
 
 The old woman looked surprised, and, at first, 
 seemed a little afraid to let Lottie take the basket. 
 Perhaps she thought she might run away with the 
 pieces she had already collected ; for some children 
 are wicked enough to do such things. But, when she 
 looked in the little girl's pleasant face, all her fear 
 went away ; and she gladly rested herself upon the 
 boards, while Lottie's busy hands and feet worked 
 briskly until the basket was well loaded with the nice 
 dry chips. 
 
 " Have you far to go ? Shall I help you to carry 
 it ? " asked Lottie, as she placed the load at the old 
 woman's feet. 
 
 " You are a good child ; and I thank you," was the 
 reply. "But I am well rested now, and can get home 
 3
 
 26 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 by myself. Make haste, and fill your own basket. 
 Good-by ! and may God bless you ! " 
 
 Lottie's heart was very glad, as she watched the 
 old woman moving quickly along with the basket. 
 4 " She walks quite fast," she said to herself. " I am 
 so glad that I helped her, and gave her time to rest ! 
 Those chips were a nice New-Year's gift for her." 
 
 After half an hour of patient labor, Lottie succeeded 
 in filling her own basket, and set out on her return 
 home. 
 
 As she turned into the street which led to her own 
 dwelling, she saw a richly dressed lady upon the side- 
 walk, a little in advance of her. Lottie looked ad- 
 miringly at her velvet hat, and the soft, warm furs, 
 and splendid silk dress. 
 
 "What a happy lady ! " she said to herself. " What 
 beautiful New-Year's gifts she can make i " 
 
 As Lottie said this, a rich lace-veil, which had been 
 lightly thrown over the lady's hat, fell upon the side- 
 Avalk ; and the owner passed on without observing her 
 loss. 
 
 " Stop, ma'am ! please stop ! " called the little girl, 
 as she placed her basket upon the stones, and ran 
 quickly along, with the veil in her hand. 
 
 "Thank you, my child," said the lady, as she turned 
 around in answer to Lottie's repeated calls. " I should 
 have been very sorry to have lost my veil. Here is a 
 quarter of a dollar for you."
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 27 
 
 "No, thank you, ma'am," returned Lottie, blushing 
 deeply. " I do not want any pay. I am glad that I 
 found your veil. It is New-Year's Day ; and I like to 
 have something to give people." 
 
 " Well, you have made me a beautiful present," 
 replied the lady, smiling; " for I should certainly have 
 lost my veil if it had not been for you. But why may 
 I not make you a little gift in return ? " 
 
 Lottie still shrunk from taking the money ; and, 
 after a moment's thought, the lady ceased to urge her, 
 and, after inquiring the number of her residence, bade 
 her "Good-morning ! " and walked on; while the little 
 girl took up her basket of wood, and hastened to her 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Wilton listened with delight to her account of 
 the adventures of the morning, and sympathized with 
 her pleasure in having already made three or four 
 New-Year's gifts. 
 
 " And now, mother," said Lottie, " I will help you 
 to sew ; and by and by, if you will give me leave, I 
 Avill go and read one of my pretty books, that the 
 teacher gave me, to that little sick girl in the next 
 street. Don't you remember I told you about her? 
 She used to come to sabbath school." 
 
 " Yes, I remember what you told me, Lottie. You 
 may go to see her this afternoon. And now I have a 
 long seam for you to sew."
 
 28 NOTHING TO GIVE. 
 
 " I am glad that I can sew neatly enough to help 
 you, mother," said Lottie ; and in a few moments she 
 was seated at her mother's side, sewing away as busily 
 as Mrs. Wilton herself. 
 
 The afternoon visit to the little sick girl proved a 
 very pleasant one ; and Lottie came home with the 
 delightful consciousness that she had done much good, 
 and almost made the little sufferer forget her pain. 
 
 " This has been a happy, happy day," she said. " I 
 wish every New-Year's Day would be like it." 
 
 " All days may be much like it, my dear child," 
 replied her mother, " if you continue to find happiness 
 in doing good to others. You will not again complain 
 that you have ' nothing to give.' " 
 
 " No, indeed, mother ; for I have found that even 
 poor people like us have many things to give which 
 make others happy. And you know, mother, I gave 
 something even to that rich lady." 
 
 "You did, indeed, dear," answered Mrs. Wilton, 
 smiling. " And now go to sleep, and dream of your 
 happy day." 
 
 Lottie's dreams were very pleasant, you may be 
 sure ; and her mother saw her smile many times in 
 her sleep, as if the angels were whispering to her in 
 their words of love. 
 
 The next day brought a visit from the lady who 
 had lost the veil. She had not forgotten little Lottie ;
 
 NOTHING TO GIVE. 29 
 
 and now came to inquire into Mrs. Wilton's circum- 
 stances, and to offer her assistance if she was in need. 
 A kind friend she proved to the widow and her child ; 
 and they often thought with thankfulness of the day 
 when Lottie picked up the veil, rejoicing, in her sim- 
 plicity, that she had something to give. 
 3*
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 
 
 "SuCH beautiful toys! such beautiful toys!" exclaimed 
 little Willie Duncan, as he clapped his hands, and 
 capered about the room with delight. 
 
 It was a bright, frosty, Christmas morning ; and 
 Willie had just taken down the stocking, which he had 
 carefully hung in the chimney-corner the evening be- 
 fore, in the hope that some kind friend would play the 
 part of Santa Glaus for him. 
 
 His hope was not disappointed : for the stocking 
 was found most bountifully filled ; and Willie eagerly 
 hastened to examine its contents. It was fortunate 
 that he had borrowed his grandfather's long stocking 
 for the occasion ; for his own little sock could never 
 have contained the beautiful, large humming-top, and 
 the pretty Noah's ark, which now met his eyes. And 
 then the large, soft ball, just right for playing in the 
 house in stormy weather ; and the nice transparent 
 slate, with which Willie could amuse himself when 
 the older folks wished him to be quiet. All these 
 (30)
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 31 
 
 things, and many more, were safely packed away in 
 grandpa's great stocking. Papers of candy, stores of 
 nuts and almonds, and pretty little lady-apples, came 
 to light as Willie continued his search ; and last of all, 
 in a tiny wooden box, was found a bright gold dollar. 
 
 " I am sure grandpa must have put that in himself," 
 said Willie ; " for I saw a gold dollar in his deskr 
 drawer yesterday. But oh, mother ! did you ever see 
 so many pretty things ? Am I not very happy ? " 
 
 " I hope so, indeed, my dear boy," answered Mrs. 
 Duncan, smiling ; " but pretty things do not always 
 make us happy." 
 
 " Not unless we are good, you mean, mother. But 
 I will try to be good. Only look at this humming- 
 top ! " 
 
 "It is a fine one, Willie. Here is a cord. Try if 
 you can spin it." 
 
 The top was soon whirling merrily upon the floor, 
 and humming so loudly that Willie had to clap his 
 hands once more ; and even baby, who was pillowed 
 up in his crib, unpacking his own wee little stocking, 
 dropped the china pussy-cat, which he had just taken 
 out, and stretched his little hands toward the top, 
 crowing with delight. 
 
 But now mother said that both Willie and baby 
 must put by their toys, and be dressed for breakfast ; 
 and she gave Willie a basket to put all his new treasures
 
 32 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 
 
 into, that he might carry them down stairs easily, 
 and exhibit them to his father. 
 
 " And what will you buy with the gold dollar, 
 Willie ? " asked Mr. Duncan, after he had examined 
 and admired all the pretty gifts. 
 
 Willie looked very thoughtful as he replied, " I 
 should like to do some good with it, father. I think 
 I ought to, do not you ? " 
 
 " We ought always to try to do good, Willie ; but I 
 am not sure that I quite understand what you mean." 
 
 ' ; I heard you say the other day, father, that we 
 should love to share with others the blessings which 
 the Lord gives to us." 
 
 "That is right, my son : I did say something of the 
 kind." 
 
 " Well, father, I have a great many blessings this 
 morning, all these pretty toys ; and so I think I ought 
 to spend the gold dollar for other people." 
 
 " I am glad you think so, 1 Willie. And who would 
 you like to spend it for ? " 
 
 " If you are willing, father, I should like to give it 
 to lame Georgie to buy a book. He told me, a few 
 days ago, that he wanted very much to buy a book 
 called ' Hollo at Work,' because there is a story in it 
 about a lame boy named Georgie, just like him. You 
 know Georgie's father is poor ; and I do not think he 
 can spare the money to buy a book. May I give him 
 my dollar, father ? "
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 33 
 
 " Certainly, Willie : you may take it to him as soon 
 as you have eaten your breakfast." 
 
 Willie's eyes sparkled with delight. His breakfast 
 was quickly eaten, and his warm comforter and mit- 
 tens put on. 
 
 " May I go to the bookstore and buy the book for 
 Georgie, if he wishes me to, mother?" he asked ; " and 
 may I stay with him a little while ? " 
 
 Mrs. Duncan readily granted her permission; for 
 although Georgie's father an:l mother were poor, yet 
 they were very worthy people, and had taught him to 
 be an obedient, good boy, so that Willie's parents were 
 quite willing that he should sometimes go to play with 
 him. 
 
 Willie found Georgie sitting in his usual seat by the 
 fireside, with a small stand placed near him, on which 
 were a little box and a new gimlet. 
 
 " O Willie," he exclaimed joyfully, as Willie entered, 
 " I am so glad you have come ! Only see what nice 
 Christmas-gifts I have got! Father bought me this 
 new gimlet ; and a kind lady, who comes to see my 
 mother sometimes, sent me this pretty dissected map. 
 I have been playing with it all the morning." 
 
 As Georgie spoke, he opened the box which stood 
 
 upon the stand, and showed Willie that it contained a 
 
 map of the world, cut into small pieces, which could 
 
 all be neatly fitted together. Willie had several maps 
 
 3
 
 34 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAE. 
 
 of this kind at home ; and he was just going to say 
 that he did not think this was much of a present, and 
 to tell Georgie how many pretty toys he had received, 
 when he remembered that it would not be kind to do 
 so ; and he said, pleasantly, 
 
 " It is a very pretty map, Georgie : I am glad the 
 lady gave it to you. And what a nice gimlet ! You 
 can bore large holes with this." 
 
 '^Yes," replied Georgie: "you know I have a small 
 one ; and I have wanted a large one for a long time. 
 But tell me about your presents, Willie ; for I am sure 
 you have had a great many." 
 
 " Yes, I have had a good many," answered Willie ; 
 " and I have brought one of them to you." 
 
 So saying, Willie took out the little box, which con- 
 tained the gold dollar, and handed it to Georgie. 
 
 "What a pretty little box!" said Georgie : "I never 
 saw so small a one in my life. Thank you, Willie ! " 
 
 " Open it, Georgie ! " exclaimed Willie, laughing : 
 " it has got your new book in it." 
 
 " My new book ! " said Georgie : "it must be a 
 very small one, then. O Willie, what a beautiful gold 
 dollar ! " he exclaimed, as he took off the cover. " Do 
 you mean to give all this to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Georgie : it is to buy the book that you want 
 so much." 
 
 " You are very kind, Willie ! I shall be so happy
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 35 
 
 to have that book ! I wish I could walk to the book- 
 store, and I would go for it this minute." 
 
 u I can go," replied Willie. " Mother gave me 
 leave ; and, when I come back, we will read the book, 
 Georgie, and I will tell you all about my presents ; for 
 I can stay with you a while." 
 
 Georgie was very glad to hear this ; and "Willie 
 took the gold dollar, and ran joyfully away. 
 
 He very soon returned, with the much-wished-for 
 book in his hand. 
 
 " Here it is, Georgie," he said ; and here is a half- 
 dollar in change : that is enough to buy another book, 
 if you wish." 
 
 " But I think you ought to keep the half-dollar, 
 Willie. This book is enough for you to give me. I 
 am sure I am very much obliged to you." 
 
 " Oh, no, Georgie ! I meant to give you the whole 
 dollar. Shall I run back to the bookstore, and buy 
 another Hollo book ? There are a great many different 
 kinds." 
 
 Georgie thought for a moment ; and then he said, 
 
 " No, Willie : I think it would not be right. I 
 have my new map, my gimlet, and this pretty book : I 
 am very happy to have such beautiful presents. And 
 noAv, if you are so kind as to give me this half-dollar, 
 I should like to buy something to give to some one 
 who is not so happy as I am."
 
 36 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 
 
 "That is right, Georgie," said Willie. "Father 
 says we should always be willing to share our blessings 
 with others. But what will you buy, Georgie ? " 
 
 " There is a little girl in the other part of this house," 
 replied Georgie, " who has been ill for a long time. 
 Her mother is poor, and cannot buy her many nice 
 things, such as sick people need. I think I should like 
 to buy some nice grapes with the half-dollar, and give 
 them to her for Christmas." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Georgie ! " exclaimed Willie. " She will 
 like them, I am sure : for once, when I was ill, my 
 mother bought a bunch of grapes for me ; and they 
 tasted so good ! " 
 
 Georgie's mother now came into the room ; and 
 Georgie showed her the book, and asked her if he 
 could buy grapes for the sick girl with the half-dollar. 
 She was quite willing, and said that she was going out 
 for a little while, and would take the money, and buy 
 the grapes. 
 
 "And please come home before Willie goes away, 
 mother," said Georgie ; " for I want him to go with 
 me to give Mary the grapes." 
 
 Georgie's mother said she would not stay long ; and 
 then she put on her bonnet and shawl, and went away, 
 while the two little boys amused themselves very 
 pleasantly with the new book and the map. Willie 
 also told Georgie about his Christmas-gifts, and 

 
 37 
 
 promised to bring the humming-top to show him the 
 next time that he came. 
 
 Very soon Georgia's mother came, with a paper con- 
 taining some beautiful bunches of white grapes ; and 
 Georgie took his crutches, which he was obliged to use 
 in walking, and, asking Willie to bring the grapes, he 
 led the way to the part of the house where little Mary 
 and her mother lived. 
 
 They found the little sick girl lying upon a small 
 cot-bed. Every thing was very neat and clean about 
 her ; and although she looked very pale and sick, yet 
 her countenance was cheerful and pleasant ; and she 
 smiled sweetly when she saw the little boys. 
 
 " I wish you a merry Christmas, Georgie," she 
 said ; " and I am very glad you have come to see me ; 
 for I have something so beautiful to show you ! Please, 
 mother, bring it to me." 
 
 Her mother brought a tumbler containing a pretty 
 little bunch of flowers, and held it close to Mary. 
 
 "Only look, Georgie! " continued the little girl, as 
 she stretched out her small, white hand, and gently 
 touched the flowers ; " are they not beautiful ? The 
 kind doctor who comes to see me sometimes sent them 
 to me for Christmas. They smell so sweet ! " 
 
 " They are beautiful, Mary," said Georgie. " I am 
 very glad that you have got them ; and Willie and I 
 have brought you something for Christmas, too." 
 4
 
 38 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAK. 
 
 As he spoke, he took the paper of grapes from 
 "Willie's hands, and gave it to Mary's mother, say- 
 ing, 
 
 " Will you please to put a bunch upon a plate, and 
 give them to Mary ? " 
 
 " O Mary ! this is just what I have wanted to give 
 you when your mouth is so hot and parched." exclaimed 
 her mother. " I am sure we thank you very much, 
 Georgie." 
 
 " Willie gave me the money," replied Georgie. 
 " He gave me a gold dollar to buy a book : but it cost 
 only half a dollar ; and so we could buy grapes for 
 Mary." 
 
 " They are very nice," said the little girl, as her 
 mother carefully removed the skin from one of the 
 grapes, and placed it in her mouth. " I thank you, 
 Georgie ; and I thank Willie, too : I am glad he came 
 to see me." 
 
 " I will come again, Mary," said Willie, going up 
 to the bedside : " and I will bring you one of my boxes 
 of guava jelly ; for I had two in my Christmas stock- 
 ing. Sick people can eat guava jelly; and you will 
 like it, I am sure." 
 
 Mary's mother did not like to have the little girl 
 talk long at one time : so Georgie and Willie bade her 
 good-by, and went away ; aud very soon it was time 
 for Willie to go home.
 
 WILLIE'S GOLD DOLLAR. 39 
 
 His mother was much pleased to hear about his 
 visit ; and she said, " Your gold dollar has made sev- 
 eral people happy, has it not Willie ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother. It made grandpa happy to give it 
 to me ; and it made me happy to give it to Georgie ; 
 and then Georgie was happy to give the grapes to the 
 little girl ; and she and her mother were both happy 
 to have them. I am glad that my gold dollar has 
 given so many people pleasure, mother." 
 
 " And I am glad also, Willie. It is good to love to 
 share with others the blessings which the Lord gives 
 to us." 

 
 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 
 
 "On, mother, mother!" exclaimed Lucy "Welford, 
 as she bounded into her mother's room, one bright, 
 frosty morning in November, " Uncle John is in the 
 parlor, and he has come to ask you if he may take 
 Mary and me home with him to pass Thanksgiving. 
 O, please, mother, let us go. Thanksgiving in the 
 country is so delightful, much more so than in the 
 city. Such fine sleigh-rides, and such grand slides on 
 
 
 
 the pond." 
 
 " And the delicious pumpkin pies, and the roast tur- 
 keys, and the bowls of sweet milk and cream," con- 
 tinued Mary, who had followed her sister to hear their 
 mother's decision. " Oh, it will be so pleasant. And 
 only think, mother, Uncle John is going to have a 
 large party a regular feast he says ; and Aunt Clara 
 thinks that Lucy and I can assist her very much if you 
 will be so kind as to let us go." 
 
 " Very well," replied their mother, smiling ; "we 
 will go and talk with Uncle John about it, and see if 
 (40)
 
 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 41 
 
 father thinks he can spare both of his girls for a few 
 days." 
 
 To the great joy of Mary and Lucy, father and 
 mother at length gave their consent ; and, warmly 
 wrapped in hoods and cloaks, with a large cai-pet-bag 
 to contain such articles as would be necessary for them 
 during their stay, they sprang lightly into Uncle John's 
 comfortable sleigh, and with many a kind good-by to 
 the dear ones at home, were soon riding swiftly away, 
 leaving far behind the various sights and sounds of the 
 busy city. 
 
 A pleasant ride of fifteen miles brought them to the 
 old-fashioned farm house, where the sound of the 
 merry bells soon called Aunt Clara to the door, and 
 with a most affectionate welcome", she embiaced her 
 young nieces, and expressed her joy that their parents 
 had consented to spare them to her for a short time. 
 
 The ride in the fresh air had given the girls fine 
 rosy cheeks and excellent appetites, and they were 
 quite ready to accept Aunt Clara's invitation to take 
 a luncheon of bread and milk, and some of her nice 
 doughnuts. 
 
 " And now, dear aunt, do tell us all about the 
 
 party," exclaimed Lucy. "Will there be any young 
 
 folks, or is it only for grown up people like you and 
 
 Uncle John ? We tried to make him tell us about it 
 
 4*
 
 42 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 
 
 as we rode along ; but he only laughed, and said we 
 should find out when the day came." 
 
 " There will be both young and old," replied their 
 aunt, smiling, " about fifty in all ; so you see I shall 
 be much in need of your assistance in entertaining so 
 large a company." 
 
 i% AVe will do everything we can to help yon," said 
 3Iary, " and we have brought our new winter frocks 
 to wear, and new ribbons for our hair ; and mother 
 said, if anything else was needed, we could send her 
 word to-morrow, as Uncle John said he should be 
 obliged to go into town." 
 
 " Oh, your dress will do very well, I have no doubt," 
 replied her aunt. " Our friends are not very showy 
 people, and will come in plain attire. But I must 
 leave you and Lucy to entertain yourselves for a short 
 time, as a part of my morning work is unfinished. I 
 suppose you will not be at a loss for amusement." 
 
 'Not at all," answered both of the girls. "We 
 will go to the barn, and find Uncle John, and see if 
 our old pets among the sheep and the 'cows have for- 
 gotten us." 
 
 The remainder of the day passed pleasantly away, 
 and the girls were so much fatigued with the unusual 
 exercise they had taken in running about the farm, 
 that they were quite glad when bed-time came, and
 
 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 43 
 
 slept soundly until the bright rays of the morning sun 
 were beaming in at their window. 
 
 " To-morrow will be the day for the party," ex- 
 claimed Lucy, as she and her sister hastened to dress 
 for breakfast, fearful that they had already kept their 
 aunt waiting. " I expect to enjoy it so much." 
 
 " So do I," replied Mary. " I am very glad that 
 there are young people coming. There are some 
 sweet little girls in the neighborhood. I hope Aunt 
 Clara has invited Mrs. Carlton's family. They live 
 in the great white house on the hill, and are very gen- 
 teel, pleasant people." 
 
 " No doubt they will be here," returned Lucy, " and 
 the "Wilsons and Smiths, and, perhaps, Mr. Marion's 
 family. There must be many others coming whom 
 we do not know, for axmt said there would be about 
 fifty guests. O, I am sure it will be delightful ! " 
 
 Breakfast over, Aunt Clara soon found abundance 
 of work for her two young assistants. There were 
 nutmegs to grate, eggs to beat, apples to pare, meat to 
 mince, and various other employments, which the girls 
 found very interesting. The tables were soon loaded 
 with pies, cakes, warm bread, and every variety of 
 eatables, while turkeys and chickens by the dozen were 
 in a state of preparation, and the large pots over the 
 fire were filled with the nice hams which Uncle John 
 had provided for the occasion. Everything showed
 
 44 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 
 
 t 
 
 that there was to be a bountiful feast, and our young 
 friends danced for joy, as they thought of the pleasure 
 in store for them. 
 
 The much wished for day came at length, and a 
 bright and beautiful day it was. The guests were 
 expected to assemble about noon, and by eleven o'clock, 
 Lucy and Mary, having assisted their aunt in preparing 
 the long table in the dining-room, hastened to their 
 own apartment to dress, that they might be in readi- 
 ness to receive them. 
 
 The great double sleigh with the pretty gray ponies 
 was already harnessed, for some of the visitors, as 
 Uncle John observed, lived at quite a distance from 
 the farm, and he had promised to send for them at the 
 proper time. 
 
 " Very kind in Uncle John," observed Mary to her 
 sister, " but I should think they would prefer coming 
 in their own carriages." 
 
 "But it is so pleasant to load up that old double 
 sleigh," returned Lucy. " The younger part of the 
 company will enjoy the arrangement exceedingly. 
 Just tie this bow for me, Mary, and then, I believe, 
 we are all ready. Let us go down at once. I have 
 no doubt that a part of the company have arrived." 
 
 But the parlors were still empty. Even Aunt Clara 
 had not yet appeared, and after surveying themselves 
 with much satisfaction in the large mirror, and impa-
 
 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 45 
 
 tiently walking up and down the room for a short time, 
 the girls resolved to seek her, and inquire if the ap- 
 pointed dinner hour had not nearly arrived. To their 
 surprise, they found the table already loaded with the 
 smoking plum puddings, and nicely roasted turkeys 
 and chickens, which Uncle John and Aunt Clara were 
 carrying with all possible despatch. 
 
 " But no one has come yet, Uncle John," exclaimed 
 both Lucy and Mary in a breath. " Will not the din- 
 ner be cold ? " 
 
 " Our friends have all arrived," was their uncle's 
 quiet reply ; and as he spoke, the door leading from 
 the great kitchen was thrown open, and a crowd of 
 persons, young and old, appeared. 
 
 There was the honest laborer, who had toiled hard 
 through the year for the support of his large family. 
 There, too, was the cheerful wife and the joyful little 
 ones, and, perhaps, the aged grand-parents, whose 
 feeble steps were supported by their children, as they 
 took their seats at the bountifully spread table. In 
 short, most of the worthy poor in the immediate vici- 
 nity of the farm were there assembled, and some few 
 from a greater distance. 
 
 Mary and Lucy had not time to recover from their 
 surprise, before all the guests were seated at the table, 
 and Uncle John, rising from his chair, bade them all 
 a kindly welcome, and after explaining in a few words
 
 46 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 
 
 the origin of Thanksgiving Day, asked them all to 
 xinite with him in a prayer of thankfulness to the Lord, 
 from whom every mercy is received. 
 
 Each guest was then plentifully supplied with the 
 good things upon the table, and Aunt Clara requested 
 her nieces to attend particularly to the little children, 
 and see that all their wants were cared for. 
 
 A happier party was seldom .seen. After dinner, 
 presents of food and clothing were distributed among 
 them, and Mary and Lucy found great satisfaction in 
 dressing the children in new clothes, and seeing the 
 gratitude and joy in their smiling little faces. 
 
 After an hour or two spent in this manner, the great 
 sleigh and the gray horses came merrily jingling to the 
 door, and the old people and the children were safely 
 conveyed to their homes, and the rest of the party, 
 with many thanks and blessings to their kind entertain- 
 ers, took their leave. 
 
 "Well, girls, how did you enjoy my party?" ex- 
 claimed Uncle John, as he reentered the parlor, after 
 bidding farewell to the last of his guests. 
 
 " 0, very much indeed," was the reply. " It was 
 very different from what we expected, but still we 
 enjoyed it very much. It is so pleasant to make others 
 happy." 
 
 " It is, indeed, my children," returned Uncle John, 
 " and it appears to me that on a day like this, it is the
 
 THE THANKSGIVING PARTY. 47 
 
 duty of all those whom the Lord has blessed with 
 abundance, to seek out the needy and afflicted, and 
 endeavor to relieve their wants." 
 
 When the harvest is gathered in, and the farmer 
 beholds his table loaded with the rich fruits of the 
 year, he should call upon the aged, the poor, and the 
 helpless to come in with him and share his feast.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 " HAVE you recollected that this is the first day of 
 winter, Mary?" asked Isabel Gordon as she came 
 into the room where her younger sister was seated 
 with her atlas spread before her, busily engaged in 
 preparing her lessons for the next day. 
 
 " I have not thought of it before," replied Mary, 
 quietly. 
 
 " But now you do think of it, Mary, do you remem- 
 ber what we agreed to do on this day? Christmas 
 will soon be here now, you know." 
 
 " In little more than three weeks. Yes, Isabel, I 
 know what you are thinking of. We agreed to open 
 our banks to-day, and see how much we have saved 
 to spend for Christmas gifts." 
 
 " Yes, that is it," replied Isabel, joyfully. " I am so 
 glad that we can open them at last. I want to know 
 how much we have saved. Shall I bring them now?" 
 
 " If you please. I have just finished learning my 
 geography lesson." 
 
 (48)
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 49 
 
 Isabel ran to the closet, and quickly returned with' 
 two money-boxes, or banks, in her hand. She gave 
 one to her sister, and taking the other herself, they both 
 succeeded, without much difficulty, in making an open- 
 ing so that they could get at the treasure within. For 
 nearly a year the little girls had saved almost every 
 penny which had been given them, that they might 
 have the pleasure of giving as well as receiving the 
 pretty holiday gifts. 
 
 " Well, Mary, how much have you ? " asked Isabel, 
 as she finished counting the pile of pennies, sixpences, 
 and shillings which lay before her. 
 
 "Four dollars and a few pennies," answered Mary. 
 " I did not think I had so much." 
 
 " And I have a little more than five dollars," said 
 Isabel, triumphantly. "You know I saved the gold 
 dollar which grandfather gave me, and you did not. 
 Are you not sorry that you spent it ? " 
 
 "Not at all, Isabel. That dollar has done more 
 good in the last two months than it would have done 
 lying in our little banks. You know I bought a nice 
 pair of shoes and some stockings for Susan Green, 
 that she might attend the sabbath school. Her teacher 
 says she is learning very fast, and is one of the best 
 children in her class." 
 
 " Well, never mind that now, Mary. Let us talk 
 about the best way to spend our money. What will
 
 50 A CHRISTMAS STORT. 
 
 you buy for father and mother ? I am going to work 
 a pair of slippers for father, and I shall buy a pretty 
 worked collar for mother. I heard her say the other 
 day that she needed some new collars." 
 
 " Have you time to embroider a pair of slippers?" 
 asked Mary. 
 
 " Oh yes ! Ellen Shaw taught me a new way. I 
 shall buy the slippers ready made, and then embroider 
 them with gold thread. They will cost me about a 
 dollar, and mother's collar will be nearly two. Then 
 I must buy a present for Betsey ; a new apron will 
 please her, I think, and will not cost too much. I 
 have a nice plan for spending the remainder of the 
 mouey ; but first let me hear what you are going to do 
 with yours." 
 
 " I shall buy a handsome inkstand for father's desk. 
 You know he broke his large one the other day, and is 
 using an old one of mother's now. I will try to get 
 one just like that which he broke. For mother I will 
 buy a beautiful rose-bush to put upon her flower-stand. 
 For Betsey I shall have a nice warm hood. I am to 
 buy the materials, and mother has promised to help 
 me make it. There will still be as much as a dollar 
 and a half remaining, and mother says that if this is 
 expended prudently it will do a great deal of good. I 
 have not quite decided what to do with it, but I think 
 I shall make a nice warm coverlet for that poor old
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 51 
 
 nan and his wife whom we went to see last week. I 
 heard the old woman telling mother that she often suf- 
 fered dreadfully with rheumatism during the winter ; 
 and when I looked around and saw what a miserable 
 shanty they have to shelter them, I could hardly keep 
 from weeping." 
 
 " But I dare say that some one else will give them 
 a coverlet," replied Isabel, with a look of disappoint- 
 ment, " and I want you to put your money with mine, 
 and buy a pretty present for our teacher. We can get 
 a very pretty work-box for three dollars, and I am sure 
 she would be very much pleased." 
 
 Mary was silent for a few minutes. She loved her 
 teacher very much, and thought it would be very pleas- 
 ant to make her a present ; but then the remembrance 
 of the poor old couple in the wretched shanty came 
 strongly to her mind, and she said, decidedly, " No, 
 Isabel, I cannot do it. I should be very glad to make 
 Miss Spencer a present, and perhaps mother will show 
 me how to make a needle-book for her, but the poor 
 people need a coverlet more than she needs a work- 
 box." 
 
 " That is no rule, Mary. We cannot always give 
 to those who need it the most. All of the girls are 
 going to call at Miss Spencer's house on Christmas 
 morning, and each one will take her a little gift. 
 If you will only join with me, our present will be
 
 62 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 prettier and more valuable than any other she will 
 receive." 
 
 " I do not care about that, Isabel. Miss Spencer 
 will not value the gifts for the sake of what they cost. 
 She will be pleased to find that we think of her and 
 love her. But I am sure she would rather I would 
 spend my money in doing good. You know we both 
 agreed to save a part for the poor." 
 
 " I know we did, but some other time will do as 
 well as Christmas," replied Isabel. " If you will not 
 help me to buy the work-box, I will buy it myself, and 
 not spend so much on my other presents. I saw a 
 beauty for three dollars, the other day, and I am deter- 
 mined to have one like it." 
 
 "Father says that we ought to try to do all the good 
 we can upon Christmas day," answered Mary, gently. 
 " You know it is the anniversary of the day when the 
 Lord Jesus Christ came into the world, that He might 
 do more good to men; and if we love to do as He 
 teaches us, we shall be willing to give up our own 
 pleasure for the sake of helping others. 
 
 Isabel felt that she was in the wrong, but she was 
 not willing to acknowledge it, and therefore replied 
 rather crossly that Mary could do as she pleased, but 
 she had no idea of spending her money in Christmas 
 gifts for the poor. 
 
 The girls therefore said no more to each other upon
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 53 
 
 the subject. They were both very busy in their prepa- 
 rations for Christmas, however, and long before the 
 important day arrived everything was in readiness. 
 The work-box for her teacher had taken so large a 
 portion of Isabel's money, that her gifts for her other 
 friends were necessarily trifling, but she did not regret 
 this when she thought how pleased Miss Spencer would 
 be with so valuable a present, and how astonished her 
 young companions would appear at her generosity. 
 
 Mary had, with the advice of her mother, expended 
 the part of her money which she had set apart for the 
 poor, so judiciously, that it went much farther than she. 
 had anticipated. Some partly worn dresses served for 
 the outside of the coverlet, and with the money thus 
 saved, many other comfortable things were procured. 
 The happy little girl danced for joy when all was com- 
 pleted, and she thought how much good even her small 
 hands could do. 
 
 The day before Christmas arrived ; and a merry 
 group of girls had assembled at an early hour in Miss 
 Spencer's pleasant school-room, to talk over their plans 
 for the holidays. 
 
 " And now, girls, let us arrange at what hour we 
 will call on Miss Spencer, to wish her a merry Christ- 
 mas, and present our little gifts," exclaimed Caroline 
 Elvvyn, one of the oldest of the scholars. " I propose 
 that we should all meet at the great oak tree, at ten
 
 54 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 o'clock to-morrow morning, and then we can go to- 
 gether. Only you must be sure to be punctual, for the 
 weather is rather too cold to make it very agreeable to 
 wait for each other." 
 
 All of the girls readily agreed to this plan, and then 
 followed an animated discussion as to the beauty and 
 value of their separate gifts. One had prepared a 
 work-bag, another a needle-book, a third had worked 
 a collar, a fourth a pin-cushion. 
 
 " And now, tell us what your present is to be, Isa- 
 bel," said Caroline Elwyn. " You are so wonderfully 
 silent about it, that we suspect it must be something 
 far surpassing our humble offerings. You shake your 
 head. "Well, we will not urge you. Cannot you en- 
 lighten us, Mary ? " 
 
 " I can only tell you what iny own gift is to be," 
 was the smiling reply. " I have made a pen-wiper to 
 lie upon her desk." 
 
 " We shall soon discover Isabel's secret," exclaimed 
 another of the girls. " Only a few hours, now, before 
 the happy time will be here. I wish it were night. 
 Time passes so quickly when we are sleeping." 
 
 The merry laugh which this remark occasioned had 
 hardly subsided, when their teacher entered the room. 
 She greeted them with her usual affectionate good 
 morning, and pleasantly remarked that they must 
 study with unusual diligence that day, as the holidays 
 were so near.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 55 
 
 The girls cheerfully took their books, and, in spite 
 of their joyful anticipations for the coming weeks, 
 their lessons were well learned and recited. 
 
 Toward the close of the afternoon session, Miss 
 Spencer requested them to put away their books, as 
 she had something to say to them before she closed 
 the school. 
 
 When everything was arranged in an orderly man- 
 ner, she told them that it had been her custom for sev- 
 eral years to visit the poor families in the neighborhood 
 on Christmas day, and endeavor to do what she could 
 for their comfort. She said that she hoped that all of 
 her scholars had thought of the poor in preparing their 
 Christmas gifts, and had remembered that though it 
 was very pleasant and proper to present tokens of affec- 
 tion to their friends, yet it was better still to relieve 
 those who were in need. 
 
 Mary looked at. her teacher while she was speaking, 
 with such a bright, animated expression, that Miss 
 Spencer could not help remarking it, and said, kindly, 
 
 u Have you thought of this in your preparations for 
 Christmas, Mary ? " 
 
 " I have tried to do what I could, ma'am," was the 
 modest reply. 
 
 ' I had thought of proposing that some of my schol- 
 ars should accompany me in my visits to the poor 
 to-morrow," continued Miss Spencer. "There is. one
 
 56 A CHRISTMAS STOKY. 
 
 old couple in particular whom I am very anxious to 
 assist, as they are exceedingly destitute. They live in 
 that miserable shanty at the foot of the hill. How- 
 many of you are willing to aid me in this good work, 
 provided your parents consent?" 
 
 Almost every hand was raised, and then each spoke 
 in turn. One had saved a dollar for the use of the 
 poor, and would give any part of it which her teacher 
 thought best. Another had a half dollar, another a 
 quarter, and three pretty little girls said they each had 
 a bright dime, which mother had given them to spend 
 for the poor. Mary had no money, but she told of the 
 warm coverlet and some comfortable flannels which 
 she had prepared for the very couple whom her teacher 
 wished to assist. 
 
 " We shall make their home a happy one to-mor- 
 row," said Miss Spencer. u I have two dollars of 
 my own to give them, and I have also prepared a 
 basket of food suitable for their Christmas dinner. 
 But I think you have not yet spoken, Isabel. Have 
 you nothing to give ? I believe you told me that you 
 had saved five dollars for Christmas gifts. A part of 
 this would be well disposed in relieving these poor 
 sufferers." 
 
 Isabel blushed deeply, as she said, in a low tone, 
 that she had already spent her money. 
 
 It was then arranged that the siiis should meet at
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 57 
 
 their teacher's house the next morning, bringing with 
 them whatever their parents were willing that they 
 should bestow in charity. Miss Spencer did not know 
 that they had already agreed to meet there to present 
 the gifts which they had prepared for herself, and the 
 girls were quite pleased to think how surprised she 
 would be when she discovered this little secret. 
 
 Among all the merry group which left the school- 
 house, Isabel alone was sad and uncomfortable. 
 
 " I do not know why I should feel so badly," she 
 said to herself. " I have done nothing wrong. I have 
 not been selfish, for I have spent every peony of my 
 money in preparing gifts for others." 
 
 But Isabel had not yet learned to examine her mo- 
 tives strictly. She did not reflect that the greater part 
 of her money had been expended for gifts which it 
 would gratify her vanity and pride to present. The 
 box which she had purchased for her teacher was 
 bought for the very purpose of outshining her com- 
 panions. She did not love Miss Spencer any better 
 than the other scholars, but she wished to make a dis- 
 play of generosity and affection which would astonish 
 them all. 
 
 Miss Spencer had frequently noticed this defect in 
 Isabel's character, and when she found that none of 
 the money which she had boasted of having saved was 
 reserved for charitable purpose?, she felt grieved, and
 
 58 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 calling Isabel to her as the other scholars left the 
 room, she passed her arm around her, and said, gently, 
 " I am sorry that you cannot aid us in our good work, 
 Isabel." 
 
 " I am sorry, too, Miss Spencer, but I have spent 
 all my money in preparing gifts for my friends." 
 
 u We should never forget the poor, Isabel. Would 
 not less valuable gifts have expressed equal affection 
 for those you love, and then there would have been 
 some remaining for those who need it more." 
 
 Isabel made no reply, but she loooked sad and mor- 
 tified as she bade her teacher good afternoon. And 
 yet her pride was not subdued ; for when Mary kindly 
 offered to share with her the articles which she had 
 prepared for the poor, she answered, haughtily, that 
 she could easily have bought these things if she had 
 chosen to do so. 
 
 Christmas morning was bright and beautiful, and 
 very mild for the season. With happy hearts and 
 faces the little girls met around the old oak tree, and 
 after telling each other of the pretty gifts they had 
 received, and displaying those which they had brought 
 for their teacher, they all proceeded to Miss Spencer's 
 house. 
 
 Xow was the time for Isabel's expected triumph. 
 With glowing cheeks and a self-satisfied air she pre- 
 sented her present ; but the murmur of admiration 
 which she had anticipated was not heard.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 59 
 
 Miss Spencer thanked her, and said it was a very 
 pretty box ; but she seemed quite as well pleased with 
 some of the most trifling articles which were given 
 her. She particularly commended the neatness and 
 good taste which Mary had shown in making the pen- 
 wiper. Indeed, she seemed more delighted with even 
 the most simple gifts which the scholars had made 
 themselves, than with far more costly ones which had 
 been purchased for her. 
 
 As for the scholars, they were so much occupied 
 with examining what they had brought for the poor, 
 that they could give but a passing glance of admira- 
 tion at the work-box. 
 
 As Isabel had nothing to give she did not wish to 
 accompany the happy party, and therefore returned 
 immediately home. Her mother found her in her 
 own room weeping bitterly, and gently drew from her 
 the cause of her grief. 
 
 " This may be a useful lesson to you, dear Isabel," 
 she said. " It will teach you that no real happiness is 
 ever derived from a selfish act. Your motive in pre- 
 senting a more expensive gift to your teacher than the 
 rest of your companions were prepared to do, was sel- 
 fish. You expected to receive praise and admiration. 
 In this you were disappointed, and therefore you are 
 unhappy. Another time I trust you will do better. 
 In expending your money for Christmas gifts, you will
 
 60 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 remember those who need it most, and will gladly 
 give, hoping for, nothing again." 
 
 Isabel still wept, but less violently than before, and 
 when Mary entered with a beaming countenance, and 
 told her mother of the gratitude and joy of the poor 
 people whom they had visited, Isabel put her arm 
 around her neck and asked her forgiveness for her ill 
 humor, and promised that when another Christmas 
 came, she too would remember those who need it most.
 
 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 
 
 "WHAT new experiment are you trying, my son?" 
 asked Mr. Willard, as he entered his pleasant parlor 
 late in the afternoon of a day in early spring, unper- 
 ceived by his little son Arthur, who was ..busily em- 
 ployed in tying up several small packages which lay 
 on the table before him. 
 
 Arthur looked up at his father with a bright smile ; 
 for Mr. Willard always took a great interest in the 
 amusements of his children, and they were in the 
 habit of consulting him and asking his assistance in 
 many of their sports. 
 
 " Don't tell Willie and Jane, father," said Arthur, 
 " and I will tell you all about it. You know to- 
 morrow will be the first day of April, and I expect to 
 have a fine time playing tricks upon people. There is 
 nothing in these parcels but little chips and stones. I 
 shall put one of them upon Jane's table after she is 
 asleep to-night ; and she will be sure to open it the 
 first thing in the morning. I expect she will think 
 6 (61)
 
 62 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 
 
 that Uncle Samuel or Aunt Mary were here in the 
 evening, and brought her a nice little present. Then 
 I shall drop another package where Willie will find it 
 when he goes to feed his chickens. What a hurry he 
 will be in to pick it up ! 
 
 " And, father," continued Arthur, " you do not 
 know what a nice joke I shall play upon Susan ! 
 Sometimes, when I get up early in the morning, and 
 she is in a hurry getting breakfast, I go to Mr. Co- 
 nant's for the milk. Now, to-morrow morning 1 mean 
 to be up very early, before Susan leaves her room. 
 Then I wall take the milk-pail, and put a quart of 
 water into it, and set it in the place where I usually 
 put it when I bring the milk. When Susan comes 
 into the kitchen, she will see the pail on the table, and, 
 finding it heavy, will suppose I have been for the milk. 
 So she will say, ' O, Arthur ! you are a good boy to 
 bring my milk ; ' and then she will take off the cover 
 to pour it into the pitcher. How I shall laugh at her 
 when she finds it is water ! " 
 
 Mr. Willard smiled a little as Arthur clapped his 
 hands at the thought of Susan's vexation : but in a 
 moment he looked grave, and, seating himself in his 
 rocking-chair, he drew his little son close to his side, 
 and said, kindly, 
 
 "Do the angels try to make people happy or un- 
 happy. Arthur ? "
 
 APRIL FOOL'S DAT. 63 
 
 " Happy, father," replied the boy, looking wonder- 
 ingly in his father's face. 
 
 "Then you are not trying to do like the angels, 
 are you, Arthur. You mean to vex people, and make 
 them unhappy." 
 
 Arthur blushed, and looked very thoughtful ; and 
 his father continued, 
 
 " Jane and Willie and Susan will all feel somewhat 
 vexed and displeased at. your jokes, will they not, 
 my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I suppose they will," answered Arthur ; 
 " but, then, I want to have a little fun on April Fool's 
 Day." 
 
 " It is poor fun to make others unhappy. I have 
 no objection to your playing jokes or tricks, as you 
 call them, upon your brother and sister and Susan ; 
 but I should like to have you think of something which 
 would please them, instead of making them vexed." 
 
 " But, father, I cannot think of any tricks of that 
 kind." 
 
 " I will help you a little, Arthur, and then you will 
 understand what I mean. We will take the trick 
 which you intended to play upon Susan, for instance. 
 No\v, if, instead of putting water in the pail, and 
 deceiving her by making her think it is milk, you 
 should rise early, and really bring her the milk, you 
 might still have a pleasant joke by putting the pail in
 
 64 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 
 
 the place where it usually stands when it is empty, 
 instead of on the table where you leave it when it is 
 filled. Then Susan will be greatly surprised when she 
 takes it up, intending to go for the milk." 
 
 Arthur's face grew very bright again. 
 
 " Oh, yes, father ! I shall like that plan very 
 much : it is much better than my own. And how 
 shall I manage about Willie and Jane ? " 
 
 " Try to think of some way yourself j Arthur. Only 
 remember to have your joke of a kind that will give 
 pleasure, and not pain." 
 
 " I know of a grand trick to play upon Jane, father, 
 if you will let me run to the shop and spend my bright 
 half-dollar that my grandfather gave me. Jane has a 
 hole in her thimble, and she pricked her finger sadly 
 to-day. Now, I can buy a nice new thimble for her, 
 and take her old one from her work-basket, and put 
 the new one in its place. How surprised she will be ! 
 May I do this, father ? " 
 
 " If you feel willing to spend your money for your 
 sister, I shall be glad to have you do so, Arthur." 
 
 " I am willing, father. And now for Willie ; what 
 shall I do for him ? I think I must drop a little par- 
 cel where he will pick it up, father ; but I will not put 
 sticks and stones in it. I have some nice candies in 
 my pocket, which a boy at school gave me. Willie 
 does not know that I have them ; and I will put them
 
 APRIL FOOL S DAY. bO 
 
 into his paper. How he will wonder where they came 
 from ! " 
 
 Mr. Willard felt much pleased to see how readily 
 Arthur followed his advice ; and the little boy himself 
 felt far happier now that his plans for the jokes of the 
 next day were all of a kind to make others happy. 
 
 The thimble was bought ; the package of candy tied 
 up, and carefully placed where Willie would be sure 
 to find it. Every thing succeeded quite to Arthur's 
 satisfaction. He awoke very early, and, stealing softly 
 from the house, brought the milk, and replaced the 
 pail iu the closet. 
 
 Susan came out of her room somewhat later than 
 usual, and hurried around, fearful that her breakfast 
 would not be ready at the appointed hour. She did 
 not observe Arthur, who had seated himself where he 
 thought he should be unnoticed, that he might enjoy 
 her surprise. He came very near laughing aloud when 
 he heard Susan exclaim, as she hastily tied on her 
 bonnet and ran to the closet, 
 
 " Oh, dear, I must go for the milk ! I was so in 
 hopes that Arthur would have got it for me this 
 morning ! " 
 
 Arthur held his hand tightly over his mouth ; but 
 when he saw Susan lift the pail up suddenly, and then 
 quickly take off the cover to see what made it so heavy, 
 6*
 
 66 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 
 
 he could no longer keep quiet, but with a merry laugh 
 bounded from his hiding-place, exclaiming, 
 
 " Now, Susan, didn't I tell you I would play a trick 
 on you to-day ? " 
 
 Susan smiled pleasantly, and said she did not care 
 how many tricks he played on her if they were all as 
 good as that. 
 
 Next came Willie, full of wonder at the contents of 
 the package which he had found in the box where he 
 kept the corn for his chickens. 
 
 " Only think, Arthur," said he ; " the door of the 
 chicken-house was locked, so no one could have got in 
 last night, and yet I feel sure that this was not there 
 when I fed the chickens at supper-time. Such nice 
 candy ! Do you think it will be right for us to eat it, 
 or must we try to find out to whom it belongs ? " 
 
 There was such a roguish look on Arthur's face, as 
 he replied that he thought there would be no harm in 
 eating it, that Willie began to understand the joke ; 
 and, well pleased, he divided the candy with his brother 
 and sister. 
 
 But Arthur felt still more pleased when little Jane 
 took up her work-basket with a sigh, saying, 
 
 " I will try to hem the handkerchief you wish me 
 to, mother ; but my thimble has such a great hole in 
 it, that the head of my needle pricks my finger every 
 few minutes."
 
 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 67 
 
 What a joyful surprise, to find the old thimble 
 missing, and a bright new one in its place ! It would 
 have been hard to tell which felt the most pleased, 
 Jane or Arthur. Both were delighted ; and we are 
 very sure that Arthur did not once regret that he had 
 spent his half-dollar for his sister's pleasure. 
 
 When evening came, and Mr. Willard was at leisure 
 to sit down with his children, Arthur had many funny 
 stories to tell of the pleasant jokes which he had played 
 through the day. 
 
 Charley Mason, one of his schoolmates, had torn a 
 large hole in his kite when they were flying it at 
 recess. At noon, he hurried home for his dinner ; in- 
 tending, if possible, to return in season to mend the 
 kite, and have another play, before school commenced 
 in the afternoon. Arthur, having brought his dinner 
 with him in the morning, Avas not obliged to return 
 home ; and he carefully mended the kite while Charley 
 was absent. 
 
 " It was such fun to see him turn it over and over, 
 and look for the hole ! " continued Arthur, as he told 
 the story to his father ; " and Johnny Gardiner looked 
 almost as funny when he found a long slate-pencil in 
 his desk, which I had slyly slipped in, just as he had 
 made up his mind to go and tell the teacher the old 
 story, that he had no pencil. Johnny does not like
 
 68 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 
 
 to tell Miss Grant that very well, for he is famous for 
 losing his pencil. 
 
 " And, father, I played a nice joke on Miss Grant. 
 She thought I could not learn so long a lesson in geog- 
 raphy as she had given to the rest of the class, because 
 I am younger than the others, and have never been 
 through the book before. So she told me to take half 
 of the lesson ; but I studied hard, and learned the 
 whole. When we were reciting, she stopped when she 
 had heard about half, and said, ' You may take your 
 saat now, Arthur.' 
 
 " ' Thank you, ma'am,' I answered ; ' but I can say 
 it all.' 
 
 " Then she looked surprised, and said I must have 
 worked very hard. 
 
 " But, father, that book is too hard for me ; and 
 Miss Grant told me to ask you to buy one more suit- 
 able. I wish you would, father : I love to study geog- 
 raphy. Henry Williams has such a beauty ! all full 
 of pictures. Oh, how I should like one like that ! " 
 
 " We must think about it," replied Mr. Willard. 
 " And now, Arthur, I must attend to some writing for 
 a little while, and you may look over your lessons for 
 to-morrow." 
 
 '"Yes, father, my geography: I always have to 
 study that in the evening." And, with a little sigh, 
 Arthur wont for his satchel of books. But it was now
 
 APRIL FOOL'S DAY. 69 
 
 his turn to find a pleasant joke ; for the old geography 
 had been taken from the bag, and in its place was one 
 exactly like the "beauty" owned by Henry Williams, 
 upon the blank leaf of which was written, " Arthur 
 "Willard ; from his father, April first, eighteen hun- 
 dred fifty-six."
 
 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. 
 
 " OH, dear, it is almost Christmas ! " exclaimed Mary 
 Bradley with a deep sigh, which caused her younger 
 brother Horace to look up from his book with surprise. 
 
 " Why do you sigh about it, Mary ? " he asked. 
 " Are you not glad that Christmas is coming ? " 
 
 " I should be glad, Horace," replied his sister in a 
 melancholy tone, " if things were as they used to be. 
 What beautiful gifts we had last year ! But father 
 was rich then ; and now he is poor." And again 
 Mary sighed deeply. 
 
 " I do not think father is very poor," replied Hor- 
 ace, laughing. " I am sure we have all we want, a 
 good house to live in, plenty of food and clothing, a 
 warm fire, and many kind friends. Do you call that 
 being poor, sister Mary ? You ought to see the poor 
 wretches that I meet sometimes on my way to school." 
 
 " How foolishly you talk, Henry ! " answered his 
 sister, rather petulantly. " You know very well what 
 (70)
 
 THE CHRISTMAS-TRICK. 71 
 
 I mean. Of course, we are not street beggars ; but 
 Ave live very differently from what we did last year at 
 this time. Our beautiful house, our horses and car- 
 riage, and nearly all of our servants, are gone." 
 
 " No matter for that," returned Master Horace. 
 " Father has paid all his debts like an honest man, 
 and we have all we need. A small house is just as 
 comfortable as a large one ; the cars and omnibuses 
 answer as good a purpose as our own carriage ; and 
 as to the servants, I much prefer waiting upon myself. 
 As long as I have good Mrs. Betty to cook my dinner, 
 it is all I want." 
 
 " It is of no use talking to you, Horace," answered 
 his sister, as she rose to leave the room ; " but, when 
 you see what a bare Christmas-tree we shall have this 
 year, you will be convinced that we are poor." 
 
 " We had more than we knew what to do with last 
 year," persisted Horace, following his sister. " Sup- 
 pose we hunt up about half a bushel of books and toys, 
 and present them to Santa Glaus for distribution. No 
 doubt he will be grateful to us ; for times are hard, 
 and his purse may be poorly filled." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed Mary, impatiently. 
 " I will not stay talking with you any longer." 
 
 But, at this moment, the pleasant voice of their 
 mother was heard calling them from the adjoining 
 room.
 
 72 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. 
 
 She had heard their conversation, and now replied 
 to Horace's suggestion, 
 
 " Your plan is an excellent one, my son ; and I will 
 try to put it in a form that will be less displeasing to 
 your sister." 
 
 " Horace talks so much nonsense ! " said Many, as 
 she took an offered seat by her mother's side. 
 
 "A little nonsense, but a good deal of sense, my 
 daughter," returned her mother. " Your mind is in a 
 disturbed and unhappy state, and therefore you are 
 not ready to meet his pleasant way of treating our 
 troubles." 
 
 Although Mary indulged in occasional fits of ill 
 humor and selfish repining, she was really a sensible 
 and very affectionate little girl. She loved her mother 
 very dearly, and felt sad and mortified that she should 
 have added in the least degree to her trials. In a few 
 moments, therefore, she looked up with a cheerful 
 smile, and said, " I will try to do better, mother. I 
 know we have every comfort that we need. It was 
 only the thought of the Christmas-tree that made me 
 unhappy. But I will try not to think of it any 
 more." 
 
 " Think of it in a different way, my dear Mary. 
 Our Christmas-tree will, I doubt not, be well filled, 
 though with less costly gifts than you have hitherto 
 received. But how many there are who have no
 
 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. 73 
 
 Christmas-tree! how many who will even want for 
 food and clothing on that happy day ! " 
 
 Mary's eyes filled with tears, but she made no 
 reply ; and her mother proceeded, 
 
 " When the Lord, in his divine providence, permits 
 us to meet with such trials as he sees to be for our 
 good, we must not harden our hearts. We will not 
 look back with regret upon the luxuries we have lost : 
 but we will rejoice in the comforts remaining ; and we 
 will endeavor, as far as possible, to share those com- 
 forts with others more needy than ourselves. The 
 proposal which Horace made in regard to your old 
 books and playthings is a very good one. There are" 
 many children who may be made happy with what 
 you now consider useless. Collect every thing which 
 you feel willing to part with, and I will add some 
 articles of clothing. Betty can tell us of several poor 
 families who will be thankful for a portion of our 
 abundance." 
 
 " I will go and look over our things at once ! " ex- 
 claimed Mary. " I have no doubt we can spare a 
 great many. Come, Horace ! " And, for the next 
 few hours, the brother and sister were busily engaged, 
 not in useless regrets concerning their own Christmas- 
 tree, but in active efforts to prepare gifts to adorn the 
 trees of children far more destitute than themselves. 
 
 Betty, having been made their confidante on the
 
 74 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. 
 
 occasion, took much interest in hunting up destitute 
 families who were deserving of assistance ; and Mary 
 and Horace soon found that there would be no diffi- 
 culty in disposing of their little stock. Long before 
 the important day arrived, the gifts at their disposal 
 were done up in neat packages, and duly marked with 
 the names of those for whom they were designed. 
 Mrs. Bradley had added an ample supply of partly 
 worn clothing ; and Mr. Bradley, when ha found what 
 was going on, had promised to provide some articles 
 of food to distribute among those who were most in 
 want. 
 
 Mary and Horace were to have the pleasure of pre- 
 senting these gifts themselves ; and they were now 
 eagerly longing for the happy day, not for the sake of 
 what they would themselves receive, but that they 
 might have the happiness of imparting their blessings 
 to others. 
 
 Christmas Eve came at last : and, attended by Betty, 
 the children left their little parcels at their various 
 destinations ; and then, with their hearts warmed and 
 cheered by the grateful words and smiles which they 
 had received, they turned their steps toward home, 
 that they might enjoy the pleasant sight of their own 
 Christmas-tree, which they rightly concluded would be 
 brilliantly lighted up during their absence. 
 
 As they turned the corner near their own home,
 
 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. <O 
 
 they met a pale-faced, thinly clad little boy, with a 
 small branch of evergreen in his hand, which he was 
 carrying carefully along, as if he considered it a prec- 
 ious treasure. 
 
 "Is that your Christmas-tree, little boy?" asked 
 Horace, as they drew near to him. 
 
 " I found it ! " exclaimed the child, joyfully. " I 
 am so glad ! Now Susy and I can have a Christmas- 
 tree ! " And he was hurrying along ; but Horace 
 stopped him by saying, 
 
 " Have you any thing to put on the tree, little boy ? " 
 
 "Not much," was the reply. "But Susy and I 
 have each got a penny : that will buy something." 
 
 " Who is Susy ? " asked Mary, as the little fellow 
 was again hastening on his way. 
 
 " My little sister, miss. She will be so glad that I 
 have got the tree ! I must go to her." 
 
 "Come with us first," returned Mary, " and we will 
 give you something to hang on the tree. I have a 
 little doll for Susy, and some candles to light up the 
 tree." 
 
 The little pale face looked bright and almost rosy 
 now as he trudged along with the children, still hold- 
 ing fast to his precious tree. 
 
 It did not take many moments to fill a small basket 
 with what appeared to the child great treasures ; and 
 his eyes sparkled with joy as a warm cape was placed
 
 76 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. 
 
 upon his shoulders, and a cap, long since outgrown by 
 Horace, upon his head. Finding, upon inquiry, that 
 his mother was a poor widow, residing in their imme- 
 diate neighborhood, Mrs. Bradley directed Betty to fill 
 another basket with food, and accompany the child 
 home. Mary and Horace begged leave to go with 
 her, although they had not as yet given one glance at 
 their own Christmas-tree. 
 
 It was a pleasant sight to look at little Susy, as her 
 brother eagerly displayed his treasures to her admiring 
 gaze ; and it was even more gratifying to witness the 
 gratitude of the mother, as Betty emptied the contents 
 of her basket. 
 
 After assisting in planting the branch of evergreen 
 in a broken flower-pot which the children produced for 
 the purpose, Mary and Horace took leave, and joyfully 
 returned to their home. 
 
 Their Christmas-tree was indeed radiant with light. 
 It seemed to the happy children that it had never been 
 so brilliant before ; for their hearts were filled with the 
 delight of doing good to others, and this made all seem 
 bright around them. 
 
 Morning found the tree well loaded with fruit, 
 pretty and useful gifts, which the children were de- 
 lighted to receive. It was indeed a happy Christmas. 
 They felt that they were surrounded with blessings ; 
 and, above all, they rejoiced in the happiness of shar- 
 ing these blessings with others.
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 IT was Christmas Eve ; the brilliantly-lighted streets 
 were thronged with happy faces, and the merry hum 
 of children's voices seemed to rise above all other 
 sounds in the busy crowd. Our own young folks had 
 gone to rest with their little hearts filled with joyous 
 expectations for the morrow. The stockings, hung by 
 the chimney corner, had already been duly visited by 
 the representatives of Santa Glaus, and fatigued Avith 
 the labors of the day, we would gladly have sought 
 repose, when a gentle ring at the bell attracted our 
 attention, and directly after, our maid of all work 
 entered, and asked if we had any thing to give to a 
 poor child who Avas standing at our door. 
 
 " Poor thing ! " we exclaimed involuntarily. " It 
 is hard to think that any child is begging from door to 
 door, on Christmas Eve, Avhen our OAvn darlings are 
 so happy." 
 
 "Tell the child to step in," was the direction to 
 7* (77)
 
 78 A DREAM. 
 
 Jenny, and in a few moments a modest-looking little 
 girl stood before us. Her slender form was but scantily 
 protected from the cold ; and her countenance showed 
 that she was indeed in need of the assistance which 
 she craved. 
 
 Her tale was a simple one. Her mother was very 
 poor, and there were five children, of whom she was 
 the eldest. 
 
 We inquired for the father, and her blue eyes were 
 fixed upon the ground, as she answered timidly, that 
 he was at home, but he was often sick, and did not do 
 much for their support. A few more questions con- 
 vinced us that he was a victim to that fatal evil which 
 destroys the happiness of so many homes. 
 
 Our means would not allow us to do much for the 
 poor child, but the little that we had to give was given 
 cheerfully, and with many thanks she bade us good 
 evening. As she left the room I recalled her, and 
 placing a small piece of silver in her hands, I said : 
 
 " You may have this for yourself. I give it to you 
 for a Christmas gift." 
 
 "And may I spend it for what I please?" she 
 asked, her whole face brightening with pleasure. 
 
 " Certainly. What will you buy ? " 
 
 " O, a great many things ! A present for mother 
 and each of my brothers and sisters, and one for poor 
 father too."
 
 A DREAM. 79 
 
 " But, my child, you have not money enough to buy 
 something for each one." 
 
 " O yes, ma'am, a great plenty ! I will buy a nice 
 spool of cotton for mother, she needs one very much, 
 and a penny book for Mary, a whistle for Johnny, a 
 cake for Thomas, and a stick of candy for the baby. 
 Then there will be four cents to spend for father, and 
 I will go to the cheap bookstore, and ask them to sell 
 me some good book, which will teach him not to drink 
 rum any more. He is very, very kind when he is 
 sober." 
 
 " And will you come and see me again next week, 
 and tell me how they liked their presents ? " I asked, 
 much interested by the simple, disinterested manner 
 of the child. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am, I will gladly do so," was the 
 reply, and with another grateful good-evening, she 
 departed. 
 
 This little incident gave rise to a train of sad reflec- 
 tions. Happiness, it appeared to me, was unequally 
 distributed. Even at this most joyous season of the 
 year, how few sunbeams found their way to the homes 
 of the poor. Indeed, their burdens must seem more 
 heavy to bear, when contrasted with the luxury and 
 gayety of the wealthy. They gazed upon their iE-fed, 
 half naked little ones, while the children of their more 
 prosperous neighbor passed their door loaded with
 
 80 A DREAM. 
 
 useless toys, the price of which would have seemed to 
 them a little mine of wealth. Oppressed with these 
 thoughts, I laid my head upon my pillow, and was 
 soon in the land of dreams. 
 
 Strange visions flitted before me. At one time I 
 seemed to be revelling in the luxurious mansions of 
 the rich, and then, by some sudden and mysterious 
 transformation, the extreme of want was my portion. 
 Suddenly a lovely being stood before me, whose very 
 presence seemed to fill my soul with joy. Taking my 
 hand in hers, she said, " Come with me, and I will 
 show thee that this joyous season of the year may 
 bring happiness to the homes of the poor, as well as to 
 those of the wealthy. I am the Spirit of Happiness, 
 and in the most humble abode on earth I often find a 
 dwelling-place." Joyfully I yielded to her guidance, 
 aud together we seemed to traverse the busy streets of 
 the city. At one of the most splendid of the brilli- 
 antly-illuminated mansions we paused, and in another 
 moment had gained admittance, and, apparently un- 
 seen ourselves, surveyed the happy party within. 
 Young men and mailens were gliding through the 
 graceful figures of the merry dance, lovely children 
 were sporting around, joyfully displaying the Christ- 
 mas gifts of parents and friends ; while a less active, 
 but no less happy looking group, were seated in a dis- 
 tant part of the room, gazing with quiet pleasure upon
 
 A DREAM. 31 
 
 their children and grandchildren, who at this cheerful 
 season had gathered around them. Every thing around 
 gave evidence of luxury and splendor, and turning to 
 my companion, I exclaimed almost in a tone of up- 
 braiding : 
 
 " Yes, here indeed is happiness. The New Year is 
 to them a time for rejoicing, and ' Merry Christmas' a 
 day of joyful expectations and realities ; but it is not 
 thus with the poor. The words merriment and joy 
 would seem to them a mockery." 
 
 " Not so, my friend," replied my guide. " The 
 happiness which you see before you is capable of ex- 
 tension. These are the mediums of the blessings of 
 Him whose birth into this natural world they now 
 celebrate. The day which proclaimed peace and good 
 will upon earth, is well calculated to remind these 
 stewards of the Lord, that the wealth intrusted to their 
 charge is not for themselves alone. Behold that ven- 
 erable old man. He is the grandfather of this little 
 flock. Every year he distributes large sums among 
 the poor, making his grandchildren and great grand- 
 children his almoners. The happiness which you see 
 in the countenances of the youth and maidens, the 
 innocent glee of the children, is in a great measure 
 caused by the joy which they have this day dispensed 
 among the needy. Merely selfish gratification would 
 not produce genuine contentment and joy. All selfish 
 delights are evanescent and changeable."
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 The scene changed, and we stood in a meanly-furn- 
 ished apartment of one of the most humble dwellings 
 in a narrow street of the city. A father, mother, and 
 five children, were just seated to partake of their frugal 
 meal. Every thing around told of poverty, but the 
 countenances of the parents beamed with contentment, 
 and the bright eyes of the children shone with joy. In 
 the short but fervent prayer which the father uttered 
 ere they commenced eating, gratitude was expressed 
 to heaven for the blessings which this most joyful sea- 
 son of the year had brought to them. 
 
 " For what are they thus grateful ? " I inquired. 
 " Contrast their situation with that of the happy party 
 whom we have just left." 
 
 " And yet they are not less happy," was th^ reply. 
 " Listen to the joyful exclamations of the children." 
 
 I listened, and the words of the lit.tle ones soon con- 
 vinced me that my guide was right. Their hearts 
 seemed overflowing with joy. The gifts which Christ- 
 mas had brought to them and their parents were, 
 mostly, substantial articles of food and clothing ; but 
 there was one small package of toys which had lost 
 the charm of novelty for the children of some wealthy 
 neighbor, and which, though no longer new and glit- 
 tering, were Avhole and good. In the eyes of the poor 
 children they were of inestimable value, and they gath- 
 ered around them with so much delight, that I doubted
 
 A DREAM. 83 
 
 not that they derived more pleasure from them than 
 the original possessors had ever done. 
 
 Again the scene changed, and we stood in a miser- 
 able hovel, where sat a poor mother, with three little 
 children clinging to her side, and rending her heart 
 with their cries for bread. No fire was on the hearth, 
 and the whole scene was one of extreme poverty and 
 desolation. 
 
 " Surely there is no happiness here," I whispered. 
 
 " Christmas will bring them at least one ray," re- 
 plied my guide ; and even as she spoke, a load of 
 wood and coal stopped at their door, and a man entered 
 to inform them that he had orders to supply them with 
 fuel, and desired to know where it should be put. 
 While the grateful woman was yet uttering heartfelt 
 expressions of thankfulness, a lad entered with a large 
 basket of provisions, which he placed upon the table, 
 at the same time slipping a bank note of trifling value 
 into her hand, saying gayly, 
 
 " Here is a merry Christmas to you, my good 
 woman." 
 
 Tears streamed from the eyes of the mother, while 
 the hungry little ones clustered around the basket, and 
 were soon bountifully supplied with a portion of its 
 contents. 
 
 Deeply interested in this affecting little scene, I had 
 nearly forgotten the presence of my companion, when 
 a gentle whisper aroused me.
 
 84 A DREAM. 
 
 " Would you see the effects of your own Christmas 
 gift ? " and scarcely had I signified my assent, when 
 we stood in another humble dwelling, where I recog- 
 nized the little girl to whom I had gi%~en the shilling. 
 surrounded by her family. They had apparently ju^t 
 received their gifts, for the mother was smiling through 
 her tears, as she looked at the spool of cotton which 
 lay on her lap ; and Mary, and Johnny, and Thomas, 
 and the baby were all in the enjoyment of the book, 
 the whistle, the cake, and the candy : while the elder 
 sister stood gazing on the happy little group, herself 
 the happiest of them all, and joining heartily in the 
 blessings which they heaped upon the good lady who 
 had given her the shilling. In the corner of the room 
 sat the father, and in his hand was the book which 
 had been purchased at the cheap bookstore with the 
 four cents. I saw at once that it was a Testament. 
 He had not yet opened it, but sat looking at his wife 
 and children with a subdued, mournful expression of 
 countenance, which awakened a strong conviction that 
 there was yet a chance for his reformation. 
 
 At length little Mary approached him timidly, and 
 said : 
 
 " Look at the book sister bought for me, father ; it 
 is not so large as yours. May I look at yours ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mary, you may read to me from it, if you 
 like ; my head aches, and I cannot read myself."
 
 A DREAM. 85 
 
 The noisy mirth of the children was hushed, while 
 the child read from the Book of Life. Some of the 
 passages were singularly appropriate, and tears rolled 
 down the cheeks of the unhappy man as he listened. 
 As she paused at the close of the chapter, the elder 
 girl drew to his side and whispered, 
 
 " Will you not pray with us, as you used to do long 
 ago, dear father ? " 
 
 As if impelled by an irresistible power, he complied. 
 Prayer and praise had long beeu strangers to his lips, 
 but now his petitions were fervent, his confessions of 
 past error full, and expressive of deep humility. 
 
 As they rose from their knees, the eyes of the hus- 
 band and wife met, and they fell into each others arms. 
 
 One long, earnest embrace, and then the father 
 clasped his children to his bosom. 
 
 " With the help of God, I will no longer be un- 
 worthy of you," he exclaimed. " This precious little 
 Christmas gift shall be my guide, and in obedience to 
 its precepts we shall yet find happiness." 
 
 I uttered a joyful exclamation and awoke, but the 
 remembrance of my dream was vividly present ; and 
 as the rays of the morning sun beamed brightly in at 
 our windows, I felt a pleasing confidence that the day 
 would bring happiness to the poor as well as to the 
 rich. All reflections upon the visions of the night 
 were soon banished, however, by the shouts of "Merry
 
 86 A DREAM. 
 
 Christmas " from numerous happy little voices at our 
 door, and we hastened to join in their pleasure. 
 
 A week passed by, and the little heroine of Christ- 
 mas Eve again stood at our door. It was wonderful 
 what a change a few happy days had wrought in her 
 appearance ; and her whole face was radiant with joy, 
 as she told me that they were all so happy now. 
 
 "Dear father had promised never to drink again, 
 and he had good work, and they could all live com- 
 fortably." And again and again she assured me that 
 their happiness was all owing, through the blessing of 
 God, to the little book which she bought for father 
 with a part of my Christmas gift.
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 " FATHER ! father ! can I go a-nutting with Dick 
 Rogers and Sam Roberts?" shouted Frank Wilbur, 
 as he bounded into the room where his father was 
 seated at a desk, busily engaged in sorting some 
 papers. 
 
 " Softly, my son, softly ! " replied Mr. Wilbur ; 
 " you will disturb your mother, who is not very well, 
 you know. Where do you wish to go ? " 
 
 " Out in the woods, father. The frost has cracked 
 the chestnut-burs, and the nuts are rattling down so 
 fast ! " 
 
 " Have you heard them, Frank ? " asked his father, 
 smiling at his eagerness. 
 
 " No, father, I have not heard them, because I have 
 been at school ; but the boys say so, and I know they 
 are. There was a real hard frost last night. May I 
 go, father ? " 
 
 Mr. Wilbur drew his watch from his pocket, and 
 looked at it thoughtfully, as he replied, 
 (87)
 
 88 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 " You may go if you think it best, Frank ; but I 
 rather advise you not to do so. There is but one hour 
 of daylight left, and a large part of this would be spent 
 in going to and from the woods. You have had a 
 good play since you came from school ; and now is the 
 time to look over your lessons for to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, no, father ! " urged Frank. " This evening 
 or to-morrow morning wall do for the lessons." 
 
 " There is no time like the present, Frank. Better 
 learn your lessons now, and put off the nutting expe- 
 dition until Saturday afternoon. That will soon be 
 here, only day after to-morrow." 
 
 But Frank felt unwilling to follow this advice ; and, 
 as i,is father gave him leave to do as he pleased, he 
 hastened to get a basket and join his school-fellows. 
 
 " My father says there is no time like the present 
 for learning my lessons, and I think there is no time 
 like the present for gathering nuts," he said to himself 
 as he ran merrily along. 
 
 But Frank had forgotten another of his father's 
 mottoes, " Duty first, and pleasure afterwards." 
 
 It must be confessed that he was rather in the habit 
 of delaying the performance of duties until the last 
 moment, although he had many times experienced the 
 bad results of so doing. 
 
 It was indeed a long walk to the chestnut-trees ; 
 and, after the boys had entered the wood, it seemed 
 much darker than it did before, and the nuts were by
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 89 
 
 no means "rattling down" very fast. The frost had 
 opened the burs a little, but the nuts were still safely 
 enclosed in their prickly nests. 
 
 " It is too late to get nuts to-night," said Sam Rob- 
 erts, the eldest of the three boys, looking somewhat 
 fearfully around him ; for Sam was not remarkable 
 for his bravery. 
 
 "What are you afraid of?" asked Dick Rogers. 
 " It will not be dark for a long time yet, only the trees 
 keep out the light ; besides, there is nothing to be 
 afraid of in these woods, neither lions, nor tigers, nor 
 bears, nor wolves. So help me find some good clubs, 
 Frank, and we will knock off some burs, at any rate." 
 
 " And, if it grows too dark, we can carry them 
 home, and get the nuts out there," said Frank, as he 
 eagerly looked around for a club. 
 
 Sam felt somewhat re-assured by the courage of his 
 companions ; and all three of the boys were soon busily 
 employed in knocking the burs from the trees. 
 
 It was quite dusk when they reached home. Frank 
 found his supper ready for him ; and, after this was 
 over, he spent an hour or two very pleasantly in get- 
 ting the nuts from the burs, and roasting some of them 
 in the kitchen fire. His sister Clara enjoyed this as 
 much as he did ; and they were quite surprised when 
 their father came to tell them that it was half-past 
 eight, and time for them to go to bed. 
 8*
 
 90 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 " Can we go into mother's room and say good 
 night ? " asked the children ; for their mother had been 
 ill for some weeks, and had not yet recovered suf- 
 ficiently to leave her room. 
 
 " Yes, if you will move gently," replied Mr. Wil- 
 bur. " I think she is not asleep." 
 
 The children opened the door of their mother's room 
 very softly, and peeped in. She was sitting in a large 
 easy-chair, and smiled pleasantly upon them as they 
 entered. 
 
 " You have been very quiet this evening, my chil- 
 dren," she said. " How have you amused your- 
 selves ? " 
 
 " "We have been cracking chestnut-burs, and roast- 
 ing some of the nuts," answered Frank. " I went to 
 the woods after school, and got a fine lot of burs ; but 
 the frost has not opened them very well yet." 
 
 " I am glad that you got so many," replied his 
 mother. " And are your lessons all prepared for to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 "O mother!" exclaimed Frank, "I have forgotten 
 them entirely ! I promised father to study them this 
 evening. I am very sorry; but I will get up very 
 early in the morning, and study them before breakfast. 
 Will that do, mother ? " 
 
 " It would do, Frank, if you could be sure that you 
 would rise early, and that nothing would take your
 
 XO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 91 
 
 attention from your lessons. But it is very dangerous 
 to delay the performance of any duty until the last 
 moment. Perhaps there is time to look over at least 
 one lesson before you go to bed." 
 
 " I am pretty sleepy, mother," replied Frank, yawn- 
 ing. " I do not think I could understand the lessons. 
 But I will be sure to get them in the morning." 
 
 " I hope nothing will prevent you, my son ; and 
 so now kiss me a good-night, and go to your own 
 room." 
 
 " Will you come down stairs to-morrow, mother ? " 
 asked Clara, as she affectionately twined her arms 
 around her mother's neck, and gave her a good-night 
 kiss. 
 
 "Yes, dear, if I feel pyetty well I think I shall 
 come down to breakfast." 
 
 The children clapped their hands with delight, and 
 joyfully went to their own rooms. 
 
 Frank's sleeping-room was on the west side of the 
 house, and it was not very light there early in the 
 morning. The clock was just striking when Frank 
 awoke the next morning. 
 
 "That's right!" he exclaimed, "just six o'clock. 
 I knew I should have time to learn my lessons before 
 breakfast " 
 
 But, to Frank's great astonishment, the clock gave 
 another stroke after he had counted six.
 
 92 NO TIME MKK THK I'KESENT. 
 
 " It cannot be seven," he said to himself. " It looks 
 very early yet. Perhaps I counted too fast." 
 
 Frank thought it better to hurry to dress himself, 
 however, and was soon seated by the window, with 
 his book in his hand. 
 
 But he had scarcely commenced studying when the 
 breakfast-bell rung. Frank knew then that it must be 
 half-past seven ; and he ran down stairs, feeling a 
 good deal mortified, and somewhat anxious as to how 
 he should get through his lessons. 
 
 He found his father already seated, with the large 
 Bible open before him ; for morning worship always 
 preceded breakfast. So Frank took his place at once, 
 only waiting to give his mother a smile and a kiss ; 
 for he felt delighted to see her in her accustomed seat 
 once more. 
 
 The family remained at the breakfast-table rather 
 longer than usual, because it seemed so pleasant to be 
 all together again ; but at length Mr. Wilbur rose, 
 and said he must go to his business. 
 
 " I am half an hour behind-hand this morning," he 
 added, smiling ; " but, as it is mother's first appear- 
 ance since her illness, I did not like to be in haste." 
 
 Frank cast his eyes toward the clock as his father 
 spoke, and saw to his dismay that it was half-past eight. 
 
 " Are your lessons prepared, Frank ? " asked his 
 mother rather anxiously, as he sprang up in haste.
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 93 
 
 Frank felt ashamed to say that they were not, for 
 he remembered how positive he had been the evening 
 before that nothing could prevent him from learning 
 them in the morning. But he was an honest boy, and 
 told the whole truth at once. 
 
 There was no help for it now, for it was time for 
 him to go to school ; and so, with a heavy satchel of 
 books upon his shoulder, and with a heart almost as 
 heavy as the books, Frank bade his mother good- 
 morning, and set off on his walk. 
 
 Mental arithmetic vras the first lesson. It was al- 
 ways a difficult one for Frank ; and, as might have 
 been expected, he failed entirely in the recitation, and 
 was obliged to leave the class and retire to his seat. 
 This was but the beginning of troubles. The mortifica- 
 tion of being sent from the class in arithmetic quite 
 unfitted him for learning his other lessons well. His 
 net recitation was very imperfect ; his sums were all 
 marked "wrong ;" his writing was blotted, and looked 
 very badly ; in short, it was a day of misfortunes. He 
 was not allowed to leave the room at recess, and was 
 also detained nearly an hour after school to recite the 
 lessons which he had failed to learn through the day. 
 
 It was with a sad countenance that he appeared in 
 his mother's room on his return home. 
 
 "Where is Clara ? " he asked, observing the absence 
 of his sister.
 
 94 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 " Gone to town with your father, my son," was the 
 reply. 
 
 There was a large town near the village where Mr. 
 Wilbur resided, and the children thought it a great 
 privilege to be allowed to accompany their father when 
 business obliged him to go there. 
 
 " Gone to town, mother ! " echoed Frank. " Are 
 they going to see the menagerie ? " 
 
 " I believe they are, Frank." 
 
 " O mother ! mother ! why could not I have gone 
 with them ? " And, quite overcome by the disappoint- 
 ment and the previous disasters of the day, the poor 
 boy burst into tears, and hid his face in his hands. 
 
 His mother pitied him very much ; and, moving her 
 chair nearer to him, placed her hand gently and sooth- 
 ingly upon his head. 
 
 Frank was comforted by this, and gradually ceased 
 his sobs, and, seating himself at his mother's feet, laid 
 his head in her lap. 
 
 " Your father waited more than half an hour after 
 the usual time of your return from school, my son. 
 He could not wait longer, as it would have made it too 
 late for him to attend to his business. Why did you 
 net come home sooner ? " 
 
 " I could not, mother. I was kept after school 
 because I did not know my lessons," answered Frank, 
 sadly.
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 95 
 
 " And why did you not know them, Frank ? Were 
 you idle ? " 
 
 " No, mother, I was not idle ; I really tried to learn 
 them, but somehow they would not stay in my mind. 
 I think it was all because I did not know my first 
 lesson this morning ; and that made me feel so sorry 
 and ashamed that I could not get the next one ; and 
 then I was sorry again, and could not get the third ; 
 and so on. One lesson knocked the other down," con- 
 tinued Frank, smiling a little, " just as one card-house 
 knocks the other, when I build the row of tents." 
 
 His mother smiled also at this comparison, for she 
 was glad to have Frank feel cheerful again. 
 
 " And why did you not know your first lesson ? " 
 she asked. "We must find out what gave the first 
 blow to your tents ; for, if we know the cause of the 
 evil, we can perhaps find a remedy for the future." 
 
 " The first lesson is in mental arithmetic, mother, 
 and the boys are expected to learn it at home. I got 
 up too late to study it this morning ; and so, of course, 
 I did not know it." 
 
 " But yesterday afternoon was the time to study it, 
 Frank. An hour before tea is the rule. Your school 
 closes at three, and this leaves you time for a good 
 play until half-past five ; then you should study till 
 half-past six." 
 
 " But I went to the woods for nuts, mother. I wish 
 father had not given me leave to go."
 
 96 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 " Your father likes to leave you in freedom some- 
 times," replied his mother. " He wishes you to ob- 
 serve and feel the consequences of your own actions." 
 
 " Well, I have felt the consequences this time, and 
 they are bad enough," said Frank, sighing. "You do 
 not know how much I want to go to the menagerie, 
 mother." 
 
 " I know you want to go very much, and I feel 
 much grieved at your disappointment, Frank ; but the 
 misfortunes of the day may be a useful lesson to you 
 through your whole life, if you will try to profit by 
 them." 
 
 " I will, mother. I am resolved to act up to father's 
 motto in future, ' There is no time like the present.' 
 You will see that all my duties will be done in proper 
 time." 
 
 " I hope so, my son. A habit of promptness, in the 
 performance of. even the most trifling duties, will be 
 invaluable to you through life." 
 
 " For a good beginning, mother," continued Frank, 
 " I will learn my lesson for the morning now, before 
 Clara comes home, and then I shall be at leisure to 
 talk to her." 
 
 " I shall be glad to have you do so, Frank. And 
 now I will tell you that your father intends going to 
 towu again on Saturday, and, if you are a good boy, 
 will then take you to the menagerie." 
 
 Frank's face grew bright with pleasure.
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 97 
 
 " I am very glad ! " he exclaimed. " But why did 
 you not tell me before, mother ? " 
 
 " I thought it better not to do so, my son. And 
 now get your book, and I will explain the lesson to 
 you." 
 
 Frank obeyed ; and the 'next half-hour was a pleasant 
 one, although the dreaded arithmetic was in his hand. 
 
 Our young readers will wish to know whether 
 Frank kept his resolution of never delaying the per- 
 formance of duties ; and if they will pass over with us 
 the lapse of some six or seven years, and take another 
 peep at him as a young man of seventeen, they will, 
 Ave think, be able to answer the question to their own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Frank was now the only earthly protector of his 
 mother and sister, for Mr. Wilbur had been removed 
 to the spiritual world about two years before. He 
 had left but little property ; and Mrs. Wilbur found it 
 better to leave her pleasant home in the village, and 
 hire rooms in the town to which Frank and Clara used 
 to love to go when they were children. Frank was 
 very desirous to earn something to aid in their sup- 
 port ; and his mother at length found a good situation 
 for him in a large shipping-store. His salary was 
 small, however ; and Mrs. Wilbur and Clara were 
 obliged to take fine sewing to do, and, even with this 
 9
 
 98 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 assistance, found it difficult to maintain themselves 
 comfortably. 
 
 " To-morrow I shall be seventeen, mother ! " sud- 
 denly exclaimed Frank, as he sat thoughtfully gazing 
 into the fire one evening after his return from the store. 
 
 " Yes, my son," answered his mother. " You are 
 almost a man." 
 
 " And I ought to be able to take care of you and 
 Clara, mother. My salary is too small. I know that 
 my services are worth more than Mr. Lewiston pays 
 me." 
 
 " That may be, Frank ; but he gives you as much 
 as it is customary to allow boys of your age. I do 
 not know that we ought to expect him to do more." 
 
 " I cannot bear to have you and Clara work so con- 
 stantly, mother. I am the one to work." 
 
 His mother smiled affectionately upon him as she 
 replied, 
 
 " You do work for us all the time, Frank, and we 
 love to look to you for help ; but it cannot be supposed 
 that, at your age, you can support us entirely." 
 
 Just at this moment, Clara put the last stitches to 
 the work upon which she was engaged ; and, throwing 
 it aside, she said joyfully, 
 
 " Come, Frank, I have finished work for this eve- 
 ning. Bring your flute, and I will sing the new song 
 that we like so much."
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 99 
 
 Frank readily complied ; and Mrs. Wilbur listened 
 with delight as Clara's sweet voice mingled with the 
 soft notes of her brother's flute. 
 
 But, at the end of the first song, Frank rose hur- 
 riedly, as if suddenly recollecting something, saying as 
 he did so, 
 
 " Mother, I must go back to the store for a little 
 while." 
 
 " Go back to the store, my son ! For what pur- 
 pose, at this hour ? " 
 
 " A cask of gunpowder was brought there this after- 
 noon, mother, and I fear that it was not put in a place 
 of safety. We have a particular place for keeping it, 
 in order to guard against accidents. It was given in 
 charge to our head clerk ; but he was unexpectedly 
 called away this evening, and I do not feel sure that 
 he attended to it." 
 
 " But as you were not desired to take care of it, 
 Frank, will it not answer to leave it where it is until 
 morning ? " asked Mrs. Wilbur, for the walk was a 
 long one, and she felt sorry to have Frank go at so 
 late an hour. 
 
 " You can move it to-morrow, when you open the 
 store," urged Clara. " You will need some one to 
 help you, and there is no one there to-night." 
 
 " There are men enough near by," replied Frank, 
 smiling. "I think I will go, mother. I do not love
 
 100 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 to leave this pleasant room, especially as Clara is 
 ready to sing with me ; but I believe it is my duty to 
 attend to that powder immediately. There is no time 
 like the present, you know, mother. I do not forget 
 father's motto." 
 
 "You have always remembered it well since the 
 day of misfortunes at school," answered his mother, 
 " and I will not urge you to act contrary to it now. 
 Go, if you think it your duty." 
 
 And Frank went. As he expected, the gunpowder 
 had not been put in a place of security. He attended 
 to its removal, and then, with a quick step and a light 
 heart, returned home. Clara had already retired to 
 rest, and his mother was only awaiting bis return to 
 follow her example. Soon all were sleeping quietly. 
 
 An alarm of fire in the middle of the night, ana the 
 noise of the engines as they passed, aroused Frank ; 
 and, on looking from his window, he felt convinced 
 that the light was in the direction of the store in which 
 he was employed. 
 
 Hastily dressing himself, and pausing at his mother's 
 door to tell her where he was going, he was soon 
 walking rapidly to the spot. 
 
 As he approached, he felt relieved at finding that 
 the fire had not originated in the store, as he had at 
 first feared. It was, however, fearfully near ; and, in 
 spite of the efforts of the firemen, one part of it was 
 soon in flames.
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 101 
 
 It was at this moment that Frank arrived at the 
 scene of action ; and, at the same instant, Mr. Lewis- 
 ton and the .head clerk came running from opposite 
 directions. 
 
 Frank followed his employer as he was hastily pass- 
 ing into the store, hoping that the most valuable goods 
 might be removed ; but they were both forcibly pulled 
 back by the clerk, who, with a countenance full of hor- 
 ror, exclaimed, 
 
 " The powder ! O, Mr. Lewiston, I did not remove 
 it ; and the fire is in that part of the building ! " 
 
 Mr. Lewistou uttered an exclamation of despair, 
 and was springing from the door, when Frank laid his 
 hand upon his arm. 
 
 " All is right, Mr. Lewiston. I saw the powder 
 properly stored." 
 
 " Bless you, my boy ! " was the heartfelt reply ; 
 and, relieved from this dreadful fear, all hands were 
 soon at Avork to rescue the property from the devour- 
 ing flames. 
 
 But the firemen had now gained the victory, and 
 the fire was extinguished before it had reached the 
 main part of the building. Only the left wing was 
 burned ; but it was there that, the powder had been 
 placed, and from there Frank had removed it, in his 
 late visit at the store the previous evening. He thanked 
 the Lerd that he had done this, as he thought of the 
 9*
 
 102 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
 
 dreadful loss of life and property which might other- 
 wise have taken place. 
 
 Again the little party had assembled around the 
 table to enjoy their pleasant evening chat. It was on 
 the day after the fire, Frank's serenteenth birthday. 
 
 "And now, mother, I have a piece of good news to 
 tell you," he said, as he finished the recital of the 
 adventures of the previous night ; for, at Clara's re- 
 quest, he had told the story a second time. 
 
 " Mr. Lewiston has doubled my salary ; and, more- 
 over, he assures me that he will continue to advance 
 me, and will at some future time endeavor to establish 
 me in business for myself. And now, Miss Clara, 
 you may put away your needle, and read and study a 
 part of your time ; and mother will no longer be so 
 incessantly occupied with her work, but will have 
 leisure to take some air and exercise, and she will 
 look bright and happy again, as she used to when dear 
 father lived with us." 
 
 " I ought to look happy when I have such kind chil- 
 dren to take care of me," answered Mrs. Wilbur, 
 smiling through her tears. 
 
 "I am so glad you .went back to the store last eve- 
 ning, Frank ! " exclaimed Clara. " I will never again 
 try to persuade you to neglect the prompt performance 
 of any duty."
 
 NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 103 
 
 " It will be a lesson to both of us," replied Frank. 
 " You do not know how happy I felt this morning 
 when our head clerk offered me his hand, and told me 
 that I had saved him from a life of misery ; for, had 
 there been an explosion, he shoufd have considered 
 himself as the cause of the disasters which must have 
 followed." 
 
 " It must make you very happy to think that you 
 have been the means of preventing so frightful a 
 calamity," answered Mrs. Wilbur> " The lesson is 
 indeed a useful one to us all ; and in every duty, 
 whether great or small, we will ever bear in mind 
 your favorite motto, " ' There is no time like the 
 present.' "
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 " DON'T cry, mother. I shall soon be older and stronger, 
 and then I can do more for you and little sister. You 
 shall never want for bread when I am a man. Don't 
 cry, mother, please don't ; it breaks my heart." 
 
 The speaker was a manly little fellow of some seven 
 years. His countenance would have been beautiful, 
 but for an expression of premature and anxious care, 
 and a look of patient suffering which it was painful to 
 see on the face of happy childhood. 
 
 One arm was thrown around the neck of a pale, sad- 
 looking woman, while the other clasped a chubby little 
 girl, who, smiling through her tears, lisped, in her 
 pretty childish accents, 
 
 " Don't cry, mother. Rosy loves you." 
 
 There was comfort in this. The last crust of bread 
 
 had been eaten, and not a solitary sixpence remained 
 
 to buy another loaf. The mother was too feeble and 
 
 ill to ply her needle with that unremitting diligence 
 
 (104)
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 105 
 
 which was necessary for the support of her little ones. 
 Her strength had already been too severely taxed ; and 
 now the time had come when Nature could no longer 
 support the heavy burden. The future was very, very 
 dark ; and yet the mother's heart was comforted by 
 the innocent love of her darlings. She wiped away 
 those bitter tears, and tried to smile, as she clasped 
 them to her bosom. 
 
 " My good Ernest," she exclaimed, " my sweet little 
 Rosy, I will weep no more. Our Heavenly Father 
 careth even for the sparrows. Surely He will not for- 
 sake us in our hour of need. You must go to Mr. 
 Thayer's, my son, and see if he will give me some 
 more work. Tell him that I have been very ill, but 
 am better now, and should be glad of employment.. 
 Tell him, also, that it would be a great relief to me if 
 he would pay me one dollar in advance. Perhaps he 
 will do this for me." 
 
 " If he does not, he will be a cross man," said 
 Ernest, " for he has a pocket-book full of dollars. I 
 saw them the last time I was there." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but he employs a great many people, 
 and has to pay out a great deal of money." 
 
 " You are not able to sew, mother," said Ernest, 
 thoughtfully, as he took up his hat. " It will bring 
 back the bad pain in your side." 
 
 " Perhaps not, Ernest. At any rate, I must try.
 
 106 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 Go now, my son, for I have no bread to give little 
 Rosy for her dinner ; and you, too, will soon be hun- 
 
 gry." 
 
 The heart of the boy swelled almost to bursting, as 
 he obeyed his mother's command. For many weeks 
 she had been stretched on the bed of sickness ; and the 
 kind physician, whom she was at length obliged to call 
 in, had said, in Ernest's hearing, that she needed rest ; 
 that such constant exertion would certainly cause her 
 death. 
 
 " And now she has sent me for the sewing again," 
 sobbed the poor child, " and I know it will kill her : 
 and then, what will become of poor little Rosy and 
 me. Oh ! how I wish I was older. If I could only 
 earn a very little, it would be some help. Is there 
 nothing in the world that little boys can do ? " 
 
 As Ernest said this, the shrill cry of a match boy 
 attracted his attention ; and a bright thought entered 
 his mind. 
 
 He could carry a basket, surely. It could not be 
 so heavy as the baskets of wood and blocks which he 
 often picked up around the new buildings for his 
 mother. And he could call matches, and sell them, 
 too, and take the money to his mother. And then, 
 hoAv comfortable she would be ; and she would not 
 have to work so hard. 
 
 Pleasant visions of tea and bread, and even of a
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 107 
 
 pound of butter, passed before Ernest's eyes ; but then 
 an unexpected difficulty arose. Where was the sum 
 necessary for the outfit to come from? It certainly 
 did not need a very extensive capital ; but dollars, or 
 even shillings, were hard to find. Ernest had not 
 answered the question to his satisfaction, when he 
 found himself at the door of the building, where he 
 was to obtain the work for his mother. There was 
 little trouble in making the desired arrangement. Mrs. 
 Lawrence was well known at the establishment as an 
 excellent workwoman ; and the work, and the dollar 
 in advance, were readily furnished. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, Ernest involuntarily 
 exclaimed, 
 
 "Oh, how I wish that some one would lend me a 
 dollar ! " 
 
 " And what would you do with a dollar, my little 
 man ? " inquired a gentleman standing by, attracted 
 by the earnestness of the boy's manner. 
 
 Ernest blushed deeply, but answered, in a firm tone, 
 
 " J would buy a basket and some matches, and other 
 things, and sell them in the street ; and then my poor 
 mother would not have to work so hard." 
 
 "You are a good son," was the reply ; "and I would 
 willingly lend you the dollar, if I thought you were old 
 enough to carry out the plan." 
 
 " Only try me, sir ! " exclaimed the animated child. 
 " Only try me ! You shall see that I can do it."
 
 108 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 At this moment, a hasty summons from a friend 
 reminded the gentleman that he must not miss an 
 approaching omnibus. He placed a dollar in Ernest's 
 hand ; and without waiting to hear his expressions of 
 gratitude, sprung into the coach, and was soon out 
 of sight. 
 
 With rapid steps, Ernest passed through the crowded 
 streets, until he turned down the narrow alley which 
 led to his own home. 
 
 His delight was almost too great for utterance ; and 
 he clasped his arms around his mother's neck, and 
 fairly sobbed for joy. 
 
 'What is the matter, my dear son?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Lawrence, in alarm. "What new misfortune 
 has befallen us ! Would not Mr. Thayer give me 
 employment ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, mother ; yes, indeed ; and here is the 
 dollar he sent you. I am not crying because I am 
 sorry, mother. My heart is very glad. You will not 
 have to work so hard any more, mother ; and I shall 
 help to support you and little Rosy. See what a kind 
 friend has lent me." And as Ernest spoke, he held 
 up the dollar which the gentleman had given him. 
 
 " And how will this enable you to support us, my 
 child ? " asked the widow, in astonishment, for she 
 could not understand the meaning of Ernest's words. 
 
 " You shall see, mother. I will try my best, and
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 109 
 
 our Heavenly Father will help me. This dollar will 
 buy me a basket, and a few things to put in it ; and 
 when I have sold those, I can buy some more. You 
 do not know how well I can call matches, mother ; " 
 and he imitated the shrill cry so skilfully, that Rosy 
 clapped her hands with admiration, and even his mother 
 smiled at his enthusiasm. 
 
 But it was a sad smile ; for it was a trial to her to 
 have Ernest commence this new mode of life. He 
 was a bright boy, and a good scholar for his age ; and 
 she had hoped that he would continue steadily at 
 school, until he had acquired a good education. 
 
 But something must be done for their relief ; and it 
 was possible that the boy's small earnings might .at 
 least help to supply their scanty food. 
 
 So the basket was bought, and a moderate supply 
 of matches and other trifling articles placed in it ; and 
 early on the following morning, Ernest commenced his 
 new life. 
 
 His neat appearance, and bright, animated counte- 
 nance, were so prepossessing, that many who observed 
 him were disposed to buy ; and one kind lady even 
 bestowed an extra sixpence upon him, because he 
 thanked her so gratefully for buying half-a-dozen 
 boxes of his matches. 
 
 With a joyful heart, he placed his earnings in his 
 mother's hands. 
 
 10
 
 110 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 " Look, mother ! " he exclaimed, " all this, besides 
 what I need to buy more things with, and the sixpence 
 which I have laid aside toward paying the dollar. 
 You know I must lay by some every clay to pay the 
 gentleman. But how am I to find him, mother ? I 
 never thought to ask where he lived." 
 
 "He probably meant to give you the money, Ernest, 
 or he would have told you where to bring it." 
 
 " Oh no, mother, he only lent it to me ; I will pay 
 it back, if I search the city to find him. How much 
 I thank him for his kindness." 
 
 "And I thank him too," said little Rosy. "Now, 
 we shall never be poor any more shall we, Ernest?" 
 
 4' I think not," replied Ernest. " Mother shall have 
 a cup of tea every evening ; and after a little while, 
 Rosy, we will have butter to eat on our bread, and" I 
 will buy you a pretty new frock." 
 
 " Poor children ! " thought the mother, as she gazed 
 fondly upon them. "How little it takes to make them 
 happy ! " 
 
 It was really wonderful what success attended our 
 little match boy. Not only were many daily comforts 
 provided, but quite a sum was laid by for time of need. 
 Ernest was almost too happy when he saw both his 
 mother and Rosy dressed neatly in frocks which had 
 been bought with his earnings ; and his only trouble 
 was, that he had not yet been able to discover the good 
 gentleman who had lent him the first dollar.
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. Ill 
 
 " I should so love to thank him, and tell him how 
 nicely we are getting along," he would sometimes say. 
 " Your cheeks are not quite so pale as they used to be 
 when you sewed so many hours in the night, mother. 
 I am very glad that I am old enough to help you." 
 
 "You are a great help to me, indeed, my son," 
 replied Mrs. Lawrence ; " but I feel anxious that you 
 should have a little time to devote to your learning. 
 We have some money laid by now, and I think you 
 may let your basket rest for awhile, and attend school." 
 
 Ernest loved his books, and his eyes brightened at 
 the thought of school ; but after a moment's thought, 
 he said, 
 
 " It would not do, mother, to give up my basket 
 altogether, because there are a good many kind ladies 
 who buy many things from me, and always wait for 
 me to come ; and besides, we should soon spend the 
 little money that we have, and then you would have to 
 work so hard again. But I will study, mother ; you 
 will help me, and I will try my best. I can spare 
 two or three hours every day for my books." 
 
 And from that time, with his mother's help, and his 
 own patient industry, Ernest made rapid progress ; 
 and even found leisure to instruct his little sister in 
 several branches. 
 
 Rosy was an active little girl, and loved to make 
 herself useful. It was her busy fingers that placed
 
 112 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 everything in such neat and attractive order in her 
 brother's basket ; and it was she, also, who made the 
 room look so very bright and cheerful, to welcome his 
 return. While her mother was engaged with her sew- 
 ing, she would sweep the floor, wipe every particle of 
 dust from the scanty furniture, set the table, and do 
 everything that one so young could do toward preparing 
 their frugal meal. 
 
 " See, Ernest," she said, as her brother seated him- 
 self by her side one evening, after the tea table was 
 cleared away, and Mrs. Lawrence had resumed her 
 work. " See how nicely I have pasted this strip of 
 sand paper over the mantel-piece, that you may have a 
 place to light the match upon when you kindle the fire 
 for mother in the morning." 
 
 " Yes, it looks very nicely," answered Ernest ; " and 
 I will try to remember never to draw the matches 
 across the wall any more, since it leaves such ugly 
 marks. But, Rosy, I see those same marks in very 
 nice houses sometimes." 
 
 " Perhaps they did not think about pasting up sand 
 paper," replied Rosy, thoughtfully ; and then, after a 
 moment's pause, she added, " You might cut some 
 little strips, Ernest, and sell them with your matches." 
 
 " I might do something better than that," exclaimed 
 her brother, as a sudden thought struck him. "If 
 mother will give us some paste, and you will let me
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 113 
 
 use some of your pasteboard and bits of colored paper 
 which the paper hanger, next door, gave you, I think 
 I can make something very pretty to hold matches, 
 and light them too." 
 
 The paste and paper were readily supplied, but 
 Ernest soon found that it was quite beyond his skill to 
 carry out the plan which he had formed ; and he was 
 delighted when his mother laid aside her work, and 
 offered to assist him. 
 
 With her help, a stiff piece of pasteboard, seven or 
 eight inches square, was partly covered with sand 
 paper, and neatly bordered with colored paper. Two 
 little round cases were then fastened upon the upper 
 part of the card, to hold the matches ; and a small 
 hole was made in the middle, so that it could be hung 
 upon a nail driven into the wall. 
 
 Ernest and Rosy fairly jumped for joy when the first 
 one was completed and placed upon the mantel-piece to 
 dry. The second one was made much quicker than 
 the first ; and Mrs. Lawrence soon became so expert, 
 that she had finished half a dozen in a very short time. 
 These were enough for an experiment. Ernest was 
 sure they would sell for sixpence a-piece ; and after he 
 went to bed, he could hardly close his eyes, his mind 
 was so busy thinking what a little fortune he should 
 make with this pretty invention. 
 
 His expectations were not disappointed. At every 
 10*
 
 114 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 house where he called with his basket, the match cases 
 were noticed and admired ; and before he had been an 
 hour from home, he had sold the last one, and with a 
 light heart returned to tell his success to his mother. 
 
 A fresh supply was soon obtained ; and for several 
 days, he was equally successful in disposing of them. 
 
 At one house, where a little girl had purchased one 
 of the first cases which had been made, he received an 
 order for half-a-dozen, to be furnished as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 u And be sure to make them very pretty, little boy," 
 said the young girl, as she stood at the door talking 
 with Ernest ; " for my father will look at them him- 
 self, and he will want them very nice. He was quite 
 pleased when I showed him the one which I bought 
 the other day, and he said you were an ingenious 
 boy." 
 
 "My mother makes the greater part of them, Miss," 
 replied Ernest, blushing. " We will do our best to 
 please you." 
 
 Rosy had been uncommonly successful, that day, in 
 collecting pretty pieces of colored paper ; and the six 
 little cases, far prettier than any which had been made 
 before, were soon completed and placed upon the man- 
 tel-piece to dry, that they might be in readiness for 
 Ernest's morning expedition. 
 
 Very happy he felt, as with his basket upon his
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 115 
 
 arm, he knocked at the basement door of the handsome 
 h'ouse where he had often sold his little wares, and 
 inquired of the girl who opened the door, if he could 
 see the young lady. 
 
 " Oh, you are Miss Ellen's little match boy," was 
 the reply. " Wait a moment, and I will call her." 
 
 Just then the door of the breakfast room opened, 
 and Miss Ellen herself appeared. 
 
 " Have you brought them so soon ? " she exclaimed, 
 joyfully, as Ernest eagerly displayed his treasures. 
 " Oh, they are very pretty ! Come with me, and I 
 will show them to papa. He has finished his break- 
 fast, and is reading the morning paper. Come right 
 along. Do not be afraid." 
 
 Ernest took off his hat, and followed his little con- 
 ductress into the front basement. A pleasant-looking 
 gentleman sat in an arm-chair, with a newspaper in 
 his hand. 
 
 " Here is the little match boy, papa," said Ellen, as 
 they entered. " He has brought the cases which you 
 wished for. Look ! are they not pretty ? " 
 
 " Very pretty, my daughter, and very neatly made. 
 What is your name, my little lad ? " 
 
 But Ernest made no reply. He was looking intently 
 and eagerly at the gentleman, and after a moment's 
 pause, exclaimed, 
 
 " It must be the very one ! I am so glad ! "
 
 116 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 " Glad of what, my little fellow ? " asked the gen- 
 tleman, smiling. 
 
 "Glad to find you, Sir. Do you not remember that 
 you lent me a dollar ? Oh, it has been of great use 
 to me ; and I have wanted so much to thank you, and 
 pay it back to you. I have carried it in my pocket for 
 a long time ; but I did not know that you lived in this 
 house." 
 
 As Ernest spoke, he drew a silver dollar from his 
 pocket, carefully wrapped in a piece of paper, and 
 offered it to the gentleman ; but he drew back, saying, 
 
 " This is some mistake, my lad. I never lent you 
 a dollar." 
 
 " Oh yes, Sir, a long time ago ; more than a year. 
 It was in Mr. Thayer's shop, Sir. We were very poor 
 then, and I was so anxious to do something to help 
 my mother. You thought I was too small to carry a 
 basket ; but you lent me the dollar." 
 
 " I remember it now, my boy. You are an honest 
 little fellow. And have you really succeeded well ? " 
 
 "Very well, Sir. We are not so poor now. Mother 
 does not have to work so hard, and we have good food 
 and comfortable clothes. It is all owing to your kind- 
 ness, Sir." 
 
 Once more Ernest offered the dollar ; but the gen- 
 tleman refused it, saying, 
 
 " I intended to give it to you, my child."
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 117 
 
 " But I should feel happier if you would take it, 
 Sir ; I have saved it for you so long." 
 
 " I will take the little match boxes instead, then," 
 replied his friend. " Will that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " They are not worth a dollar," replied Ernest ; 
 " but I can bring you more, if you like." 
 
 "We have enough, my good boy. A dollar is not t 
 too much for them. And now, give me your name, 
 and tell me where you live, for I shall wish to see 
 more of you." 
 
 " My name is Ernest Lawrence, Sir ; and we live 
 in one room of the large white house near the Baptist 
 church." 
 
 "Ah, yes, I know the place. Well, Ernest, tell 
 your mother that I will call to see her to-morrow 
 morning, about ten o'clock." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir ; I will not forget to tell her. 
 She will be very much obliged to you for your kind- 
 ness, and so will Rosy." 
 
 " Who is Rosy ? " asked Ellen, who had been an 
 attentive listener to the conversation between her father 
 and the little match boy. 
 
 " My sister, Miss," replied Ernest, as he took up 
 his basket, and made his best bow to the gentleman. 
 
 The next morning was a long one to the two chil- 
 dren. Very early had Rosy assisted her mother in 
 putting their little room in the neatest order ; and two
 
 118 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 hours before the time when they might expect the gen- 
 tleman, she was gazing eagerly from the window, hop- 
 ing that he would soon arrive. 
 
 The right time came at last ; and Mr. Burnap for 
 this was the name of Ernest's benefactor was seen 
 ascending the steps. The children ran to the door to 
 receive him, and show him the way to their room. 
 
 He spoke kindly to them both, and stroked Rosy's 
 golden curls ; but he had not long to stay, and seemed 
 anxious to have some conversation with their mother. 
 So the children employed themselves quietly in another 
 part of the room, and were careful not to speak a loud 
 word, for fear of disturbing their guest. 
 
 After a little while, they softly left the room, and 
 seated themselves on the step of the outer door, where 
 they could talk together in more freedom, and yet be 
 very sure to see Mr. Burnap before he left the house. 
 
 In about half an hour, their mother called them. 
 
 " Come here, my boy," said Mr. Burnap, extending 
 his hand to Ernest, as he advanced. " Your mother 
 tells me that you are fond of your books. Would you 
 like to give up going out with your basket, and attend 
 a good school ? " 
 
 Ernest hesitated. 
 
 " Speak out, my boy. Tell us what is in your mind." 
 
 " I should love to go to school very much, Sir, if I 
 was sure that my mother would not have to work too
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 119 
 
 hard. My basket earns enough to buy us many com- 
 forts." 
 
 " 1 will see that your mother is provided for. 
 Would you, then, like to attend school?" 
 
 " Oh, very much, Sir. I will study hard.'.' 
 
 " That is right. You are a good son, and I think 
 you will be a good man. As for my little Rosy, I am 
 sure she is a good little girl, and does all she can to be 
 useful." 
 
 " I can sweep the room, Sir," replied Rosy, smiling 
 pleasantly, as the gentleman drew her to his side. 
 
 " I thought so, my child. It looks very nice. I 
 must bring my little daughter to see you some time. 
 And now, I must bid you all good morning. I will 
 call again in one week, Mrs. Lawrence ; please to have 
 all in readiness." 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence bowed her head gratefully, but her 
 heart was too full to speak ; and she quite alarmed the 
 children by weeping some time after Mr. Burnap left 
 the room. 
 
 At length she grew calm, and was able to tell them 
 all that had passed. Their kind friend had expressed 
 his interest in Ernest's welfare, and had offered to give 
 him a good education at his own expense. He had 
 asked Mrs. Lawrence many questions concerning her 
 present employment ; and finding that constant confine- 
 ment to her needle was injurious to her health, and
 
 120 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 
 
 yielded them but a scanty support, he had proposed to 
 her to remove to some comfortable rooms in a house 
 of his own, part of which was at this time vacant. 
 One of these rooms was fitted for a shop ; and he 
 offered to advance a sufficient sum to enable her to 
 open a small thread and needle store, which would, 
 he thought, be successful, and might be gradually 
 increased. 
 
 Ernest and Rosy were almost wild with delight, 
 when their mother told them of this plan. Rosy was 
 sure she could soon learn to attend the shop as well as 
 her mother ; and Ernest thought he could help a great 
 deal when he was not in school. Their hearts were 
 filled with gratitude to their Heavenly Father, who 
 had raised them up such a kind friend. 
 
 In about a week they were established in their new 
 home, which seemed to them almost like a palace. 
 Several articles of furniture were given them by Mr. 
 Burnap ; and the whole place presented a remarkably 
 neat and attractive appearance. 
 
 The little shop was very successful ; and before 
 many months had passed away, Mrs. Lawrence was 
 able, not only to repay the sum which their friend had 
 advanced to them, but also to increase her stock of 
 goods considerably. 
 
 Mi-. Burnap would have objected to receiving the 
 money, but Mrs. Lawrence begged that he would take
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. 121 
 
 it, and if he pleased, use it to assist others who were 
 poor and needy. 
 
 Ernest applied with great diligence to his studies, 
 and made rapid progress. Little Rosy, also, was soon 
 placed at school ; and was no less an industrious scholar 
 than ner brother. They delighted to do everything in 
 their power to assist their mother, and often wished 
 they could do more, to show their gratitude to the 
 friends who had been so kind to them. 
 
 Mr. Burnap had no son, and Ernest became very 
 dear to him. After several years, he took him into 
 his own counting-room, and, as he grew older, made 
 him a partner in his business. 
 
 Ernest, while still a young man, was a wealthy mer- 
 chant. If you could have looked into his beautiful 
 parlors, and have seen that handsomely-dressed, cheer- 
 ful-looking old lady, seated in her rocking-chair, and 
 that lovely young girl by her side, you would not have 
 recognized poor Mrs. Lawrence and her little Rosy ; 
 and in that gentlemanly-looking man who has just 
 entered, you would have been still more unable to have 
 recalled the little match boy, whose shrill cry had once 
 been heard through those very streets, where he was 
 now known and respected. 
 
 Ernest still loved to tell the story ; and when Rosy 
 would sometimes say, 
 
 " That little thread and needle store seems like a 
 11
 
 122 THE LITTLE MATCH EOT. 
 
 dream to me now," lie would produce the very basket 
 which he had formerly carried, and the silver dollar 
 which he had so long reserved to repay his benefactor, 
 and would smilingly reply, 
 
 " My match basket is still a reality to me, Rosy. 
 We will not forget the days gone by."
 
 I FORGOT. 
 
 " I AM glad you have come, Clara," said Mrs. Gray, 
 as her little, daughter entered the room, on her return 
 from an errand to a neighboring shop ; "I began to 
 fear you would be too late. Where are the buttons ? " 
 
 " The buttons ! " exclaimed Clara. " Oh, mother, 
 I forgot to buy them ! " 
 
 " Forgot to buy them, Clara ; how is that possible, 
 when you went to the shop for the very purpose of get- 
 ting them ? I gave you no other errand." 
 
 " I know that, mother ; but you gave me leave to 
 buy the worsted to work the slippers for father, for 
 which I have been saving my money so long. I met 
 Anna Lee, and we were so busy talking together, and 
 selecting the prettiest shades of worsted, that I quite 
 forgot the buttons. I will go back again, mother." 
 
 " No, Clara, it will be too late ; your father is now 
 eating his dinner, and he expects the coach .in a few 
 minutes. I should have but just time to sew the but- 
 (123)
 
 124 I FORGOT. 
 
 tons on his coat, if I had them now. If he had not 
 been so suddenly called from home, his clothes would 
 have been in readiness. I have exerted myself all the 
 morning to put every thing in proper order for his 
 journey, and all is now ready excepting his overcoat, 
 which needs new buttons very much." 
 
 Clara looked sorry and ashamed, and just then her 
 father entered the room, saying, 
 
 " Is my coat nearly ready ? I think the coach will 
 be here in five minutes." 
 
 " I am sorry to say that Clara forgot the buttons," 
 replied his wife, " and there is no time to send her 
 again to the shop." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Mr. Gray, " I must wear the coat 
 as it is. I should be gone before she could reach the 
 shop. It is not pleasant to think that my little daugh- 
 ter's forgetfulness obliges me to wear a shabby coat ; 
 but do not trouble yourself about it. I will get a 
 tailor to repair it at the town where we stop for the 
 night." 
 
 A few minutes passed, and the coach rattled to the 
 door. Mr. Gray hastily bade his wife an affectionate 
 farewell, and stooping to kiss Clara he said, " My 
 daiighter must remember that forgetfulness is, often, 
 only another name for selfishness." 
 
 In anpther minute he had taken his place in the 
 coach, the door was closed, the driver sprang to his
 
 I FORGOT. 125 
 
 seat, and they whirled away as fast as the four stout 
 horses could carry them. 
 
 Clara stood at the door until the coach was out of 
 sight, and then slowly and sadly returned to the par- 
 lor, and seated herself by her mother. 
 
 u I am very sorry I forgot the buttons," she said ; 
 " but what did father mean by saying that forgetful- 
 ness is only another name for selfishness ? I did not 
 mean to forget, mother ; I was willing to go for them. 
 Selfish people are unwilling to do any thing to help 
 others." 
 
 " There are many kinds of selfishness, Clara, and 
 forgetfulness is certainly one kind. You have a bad 
 habit of excusing many acts of thoughtlessness and 
 carelessness by saying, ' I forgot.' Now can you tell 
 me why you forgot to buy the buttons ? " 
 
 " Because I was so engaged in selecting the wors- 
 teds and in admiring the pretty colors, mother." 
 
 " And was not that selfish, Clara ? You did not 
 forget your own errand, but you allowed it to engross 
 your mind so entirely, that you forgot the real object 
 for which you were sent to the shop. If you loved to 
 be of use to me, as well as you love to please yourself, 
 you would have remembered what I sent you for, and 
 purchased that before you attended to your own wants." 
 
 " I will try to do better another time, mother," re- 
 plied Clara, " and in this case I believe I was a little 
 11*
 
 126 I FOHGOT. 
 
 selfish ; but I do not believe that forgetfulness is always 
 selfishness." 
 
 ' Xot always, perhaps ; but very often," said Mrs. 
 Gray. " If we love our neighbor as ourselves, we 
 shall remember his desire's as well as we do our own. 
 It is a poor excuse for any fault to say, ' I forgot to do 
 right.' Now, tie on your bonnet, Clara, and we will 
 take a short walk this fine afternoon." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, mother ! I love to walk with you ; 
 and will you tell me where father has gone, and all 
 about it, as you said you would do when you were at 
 leisure." 
 
 " I will," replied her mother. " We will take the 
 pleasant retired path which leads through the woods, 
 and when we reach our favorite seat we will rest our- 
 selves, and talk about your father's journey." 
 
 Clara always found a walk with her mother instruc- 
 tive as well as delightful ; for Mrs. Gray allowed noth- 
 ing to escape her observation, but made even the most 
 trifling objects the means of conveying pleasant and 
 useful-$|pformation. A simple flower, or blade of 
 grass, often served to impress upon Clara's mind the 
 wisdom and beauty which is visible in all the works 
 of the Lojsd; and the music of the birds never fell 
 unheeded upon her ear, but elevated her affections to 
 her Heavenly Father, without whom not even a spar- 
 row falleth to the ground. From her earliest child-
 
 I FORGOT. 127 
 
 hood her mother had endeavored to give her habits of 
 observation, and had taught her to regard nothing 
 which the Lord has made as too trifling to be instruc- 
 tive and useful, if examined with proper attention. 
 
 "Anna Lee has collected specimens of a great many 
 different kinds of leaves, mother," said Clara, as she 
 plucked a large oak leaf from a tree which they were 
 passing, and admired its deep green and smooth glossy 
 surface. " She has a very large book quite full, and 
 yet she tells me that she has never been able to find 
 two leaves exactly alike." 
 
 " She will never find two leaves alike, Clara. There 
 ape no two things in creation that are exactly alike." 
 
 "Why, mother, how can you know?" exclaimed 
 Clara, iu surprise. " There may be two things alike 
 which you have never seen." 
 
 " No, Clara, this cannot be. The Lord is infinite, 
 and therefore there is an infinite variety in all things 
 that He has made. There is not given any thing the 
 same as another, and neither can be given to eternity." 
 
 "Not even two blades of grass, mother?" asked 
 Clara. 
 
 "No, Clara," replied her mother, smiling. "When 
 you are older you will understand this better, but it 
 will always fill your mind with wonder and admira- 
 tion. At present, it is sufficient for you to recollect 
 what I have said, that the Lord is infinite, and that x
 
 128 I FORGOT. 
 
 therefore, there is an infinite variety in all things. To 
 impress this upon your mind, you may compare as 
 many things as you please, and you will soon find that 
 although they will frequently look alike, yet by careful 
 observation you will always find some slight shades of 
 difference." 
 
 " Yes, mother, I will try," said Clara, "and I think 
 I should like to collect a book of leaves like Anna's, 
 if you are willing, mother." 
 
 " I have no objection, Clara ; and, if you like, I 
 will give you a short lesson to learn in a little book 
 which I have on Botany, and then you will know the 
 names of the different forms of leaves, and I will show 
 you how to arrange them properly in your book." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, mother ! I shall like that very 
 much. And now here we are at our mossy seat, and 
 I shall hear where father has gone, and why he looked 
 so grave when he read that letter this morning." 
 
 " Yes, you shall now hear all about it," replied Mrs. 
 Gray. " I was pleased to observe that you tried to 
 suppress your curiosity this morning, and when your 
 father requested you to leave the room, as he wished 
 to talk with me alone, that you obeyed readily and 
 without asking any questions. The letter was from 
 your aunt Catharine. She tells us that her husband's 
 health is evidently declining, and the physicians strongly 
 recommend a milder climate. They also think that a
 
 I FORGOT. 129 
 
 voyage at sea might be useful to him. He will leave 
 home for Italy in a few days, and your aunt has 
 decided to accompany him." 
 
 "And is little Ellen going with them, mother?" 
 asked Clara, who was listening with eager attention. 
 
 "No, my dear," replied Mrs. Gray; "your aunt 
 thinks that she could not devote herself so entirely to 
 her husband if little Ellen was with her, and she has 
 therefore decided to leaVe her behind, although it is a 
 great trial to part with her. She would like to have 
 Ellen remain with us during their absence, and this 
 was the principal subject of the letter to your father." 
 
 " And shall you let her come, mother ? " exclaimed 
 Clara. " Oh, do say yes ! I shall be so delighted to 
 have a little sister like Ellen to play with. I will help 
 you take care of her all the time." 
 
 " Her nurse will come with her," replied Mrs. 
 Gray, smiling at Clara's eagerness. " Your father 
 has now gone to visit your uncle and aunt, and it is 
 quite probable that little Ellen and her nurse* will 
 return with him." 
 
 " How glad I am," said Clara ; " I hope aunt will 
 remain in Italy a long time. I do not mean that I 
 hope uncle Henry's health will oblige them to stay, 
 but I should love to have him get better, and conclude 
 to travel for two or three years, and leave Ellen with 
 us."
 
 130 I FORGOT. 
 
 " There is no probability of their doing this, Clara. 
 If your uncle should recover, they will return next 
 summer ; and though we may have become much 
 attached to your little cousin, and grieve to part with 
 her, I trust we shall not be so selfish as to wish to 
 prolong her separation from her parents." 
 
 " I can teach her a great deal before they come 
 home," said Clara. " She is nearly two years old 
 now. I might teach her to read before she is three." 
 
 " We will first teach her to talk," replied her mother ; 
 " but we will not teach her to say, ' I forgot ! ' ' 
 
 " No, mother, I will not teach her to say that. I 
 will teach her all that I can that is good, but nothing 
 that is evil." 
 
 " A very good resolution, Clara. And now we will 
 return home, for the air is rather too cool." 
 
 Before I tell my young readers about Mr. Gray's 
 return with little Ellen, I must introduce them more 
 particularly to Clara ; although, from what I have 
 already said concerning her, they may have formed a 
 good idea of her character, and have justly concluded 
 that she is very much like themselves, sometimes try- 
 ing to do what is right, and suffering herself to be led 
 by the good spirits around her, and at other times 
 somewhat selfish and thoughtless, allowing evil spirits 
 to lead her in the wrong path. 
 
 Clara was nearly eleven years old. She was gener-
 
 I FORGOT. 131 
 
 ally obedient to her parents and teachers, kind to her 
 playmates, diligent in her studies, and orderly and 
 industrious in her habits. Still she had some faults. 
 Although obliging in her disposition, and desirous to 
 be useful to those around her, she frequently entirely 
 disregarded their wishes through mere thoughtlessness 
 and inattention. Like most children, she was fond of 
 play, and sometimes allowed her amusements to make 
 her forget to perform her duties. 
 
 She was unwilling to believe that this forgetfulness 
 was one form of selfishness ; for Clara, like many other 
 persons, believed herself free from this evil, because 
 she was glad to share whatever she had with those 
 who needed it, and was even willing to give up her 
 own pleasure for the sake of being useful to others. I 
 have known her to decline an invitation to a pleasant 
 little party, because her mother Avas not quite well, 
 and needed her attention ; and yet, perhaps, in the 
 course of that same afternoon, she would become so 
 much interested in some book, or favorite amusement, 
 that she would quite forget the object for which she 
 remained at home, and entirely neglect to attend to 
 her mother. 
 
 I will relate an instance of Clara's thoughtlessness , 
 and you will then see that she sometimes gave great 
 trouble to herself and to others, although she very 
 seldom intended to do wrong ; she only forgot to do 
 right.
 
 132 I FORGOT. 
 
 Very near to ' Mr. Gray's there lived a good old 
 woman, whom the children in the neighborhood called 
 aunt Molly. She lived in a small cottage, with a neat 
 little garden in front, containing a few flowers and 
 vegetables, and one large apple-tree. Aunt Molly was 
 quite lame, and always used a crutch in walking. She 
 had one son, about eighteen years of age, Avho lived 
 with her, and took care of her. During the day he 
 was obliged to be from home to attend to his work, 
 but he took good care to bring wood, and water, and 
 every thing that he thought his mother could want, 
 before he left her ; and with the help of her crutch she 
 was able to move about quite briskly, and her little 
 cottage was always in the neatest order. Every child 
 in the neighborhood loved to visit aunt Molly, for she 
 had a kind word for each of them, and often a pleasant 
 story to tell, or a gift of a rosy-cheeked apple or a 
 pretty flower. 
 
 One bright afternoon in October, Clara asked her 
 mother's leave to pass an hour or two at the cottage. 
 Mrs. Gray readily consented, and requested her to 
 take a glass of grape jelly, which she had just been 
 making, to the old lady. 
 
 " I love to carry aunt Molly a little present, because 
 she is always so much pleased," said Clara ; and, 
 tying on her bonnet, she bade her mother good after- 
 noon, and taking the glass in her hand, soon reached
 
 I FORGOT. 133 
 
 the cottage, where she found aunt Molly comfortably 
 seated in her large arm-chair, with her knitting-work 
 in her hands, and her crutch lying by her side. She 
 was, as Clara expected, much pleased with the jelly, 
 and said it was the best she had tasted for many years. 
 Clara sat by her side for half an hour, chatting away 
 very happily, and then aunt Molly requested her to 
 read aloud to her for a little while, as her eyes were 
 failing, and she often found it difficult to see to read 
 herself. Clara readily complied, for she was glad to 
 be of use, and another half hour passed away very 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " Now," said aunt Molly, " you must go to the gar- 
 den, and find a nice apple for yourself. In a few days 
 my son will gather them all, but I have notfe in the 
 house to-day. You will probably find some good ones 
 on the ground, or perhaps you can reach the lower 
 branches of the tree." 
 
 So Clara ran to the apple-tree, and looked around 
 upon the grass beneath it for a nice apple. There 
 were some pretty good ones, but they did not suit lier 
 exactly, for high up above her head she saw those that 
 Avere much larger and fairer. 
 
 " There is a beauty ! " she exclaimed ; '"I can 
 almost reach it. I wish I had a stick. I will run 
 and borrow aunt Molly's crutch, and knack it down." 
 
 Aunt Molly was quite willing to lend her crutch, 
 12
 
 134 I FORGOT. 
 
 but she charged Clara to bring it back directly, as it 
 was nearly time for her to put by her knitting and 
 prepare tea. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will come right back ! " said Clara, 
 " and I will set the table, and hang on the tea-kettle, 
 and help you get tea." 
 
 While Clara was endeavoring to knock the apple 
 from the tree, she saw two of her schoolmates running 
 along a lane not far from the cottage ; they were talk- 
 ing very merrily, and seemed to be much pleased 
 about something. Clara threw down the crutch and 
 ran after them. They stopped when they heard her 
 call to them, and told her that they were going to the 
 grove to see a uew swing which their brother had just 
 put up. 
 
 u Can every one swing in it who wishes to ? " asked 
 Clara. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Susan Allen, one of the little 
 girls. " My brother said it was for the accommoda- 
 tion of all the children in the neighborhood. Come 
 with us, and we will have a fine swing." 
 
 In her eagerness to try the new swing, Clara quite 
 forgot aunt Molly's crutch, which she had left under 
 the apple-tree, and ran hastily along with the other 
 girls until they reached a small grove of willow-trees 
 at the end of the lane. Here they found a fine large 
 swing, and enjoyed their play so much that the time
 
 I FORGOT. 130 
 
 passed very quickly. It was nearly an hour since 
 Clara had left the apple-tree, when she suddenly 
 sprung from the swing, exclaiming,- 
 
 "Oh, dear, I forgot aunt Molly's crutch ! I am so 
 sorry," and she run as fast as she could toward the 
 cottage. 
 
 Poor aunt Molly, after waiting fifteen or twenty 
 minutes for Clara to return with the crutch, began to 
 fear that some accident had befallen her, and thought 
 she would try to get to the door and look out into the 
 garden. She succeeded in doing this, by taking hold 
 of the chairs and other furniture. She saw her crutch 
 lying under the tree, but nothing was to be seen of 
 Clara. She called as loudly as she could, but no one 
 answered. Becoming still more alarmed, aunt Molly 
 endeavored to get down the steps which led into the 
 garden, hoping to be able to reach her crutch. 
 
 "If I can only get my crutch," she said to herself, 
 " I will go to the next house, and ask them to look for 
 the poor child, for I know not what has become of 
 her." 
 
 But, unfortunately, the old laay, naving nothing to 
 take hold of, lost her balance and fell to the ground. 
 The steps were high, and she was a good deal braised 
 by the fall, and her lameness entirely prevented her 
 from rising, or helping herself in any way. 
 
 Providentially, however, her son returned at an
 
 136 I FORGOT. 
 
 earlier hour than usual. He was much shocked at 
 finding his mother in such a condition, and carefully 
 raising her from the ground, he helped her into the 
 cottage, and laid her upon the bed. He was then 
 preparing to attend to the bruises upon her face and 
 arm, which were beginning to look very badly, but his 
 mother begged him to leave her and look for Clara, 
 for she felt exceedingly anxious concerning her. Just 
 at this moment Clara ran hastily into the room, with 
 the crutch in her hand, which she had found under 
 the tree where she left it. She felt very sad at find- 
 ing aunt Molly so much injured through her forgetful- 
 ness and neglect. The kind old lady did not reproach 
 her, but she begged her to try to grow more thought- 
 ful and considerate. 
 
 Clara went immediately to her mother, and told her 
 of what she had done, and Mrs. Gray hastened to the 
 cottage with some liniment and other things which 
 were useful for bruises and sprains. 
 
 It was several weeks before aunt Molly was able to 
 sit in her chair and knit again, for her arm was so 
 badly sprained by the fall that it was a long time 
 before she could use it. Clara went every day to the 
 cottage to assist her, and gladly gave up many of her 
 hours for play that she might have leisure to attend to 
 aunt Molly's wants, without neglecting her studies and 
 other duties. This lesson appeared to make so deep
 
 I FORGOT. 137 
 
 an impression upon her mind, that her mother hoped 
 it "would quite cure her fault ; but after a short time 
 had passed away, Clara was nearly as heedless as she 
 was before. When bad habits are once acquired it is 
 difficult to overcome them, and many sad lessons are 
 often necessary before we sincerely endeavor to remove 
 the evil. 
 
 A few days after Mr. Gray had left home, his wife 
 received a letter from him naming the day that he 
 should probably return, and requesting to have a room 
 prepared for Ellen and her nurse, as they would 
 accompany him. 
 
 Clara was quite overjoyed, and begged her mother 
 to allow her a holiday, that she might collect every 
 thing that could please her little cousin from her old 
 stores of playthings, some of which had long been laid 
 aside. Mrs. Gray consented, and gave her leave to 
 use the lower shelves of a closet in the room which 
 Ellen was to occupy, for a baby-house. To this closet, 
 therefore, Clara brought all her treasures, and spent 
 several hours very happily in making new dresses for 
 the dolls, and in arranging the different apartments of 
 a house upon the shelves. At length the parlor, kitchen, 
 and sleeping-rooms were all in proper order ; the dolls 
 were suitably dressed, and placed in their respective 
 places ; one or two were quietly seated in the parlor,
 
 138 I FORGOT. 
 
 another was standing by a washtub in the kitchen, and 
 another might be seen in the neatly made bed in the 
 upper room. Mrs. Gray was then summoned to look 
 at the baby-house. She admired the neatness Avith 
 which every thing was arranged, but warned Clara 
 not to be disappointed if she found Ellen too young to 
 understand and appreciate it. 
 
 " Why, mother," exclaimed Clara, " even very little 
 babies like playthings." 
 
 " Certainly," replied her mother, " but they like to 
 play with them in their own way. Ellen will, I doubt 
 not, be much pleased with the baby-house, but she will 
 not know how to arrange things in an orderly manner, 
 as you do. For instance, you have placed the clothes 
 for your dolls very neatly in the drawers of the little 
 bureau. Now, it is quite probable that Ellen will be 
 delighted with the bureau, but she will not be willing 
 to allow the clothes to remain in the drawers. Every 
 drawer will be taken out, and the clothes unfolded ; 
 the bureau will be turned upside down, and perhaps a 
 block-house built with the drawers." 
 
 " Oh, mother," said Clara, " that will not do at all ! 
 I will show Ellen how to play properly." 
 
 " You can let her see how you use the playthings, 
 and she will soon begin to imitate you ; but do not 
 interfere with her plays too much. It is better to let 
 little children play in their own way, as much as we
 
 I FORGOT. 139 
 
 can, without allowing them to injure themselves or 
 others. The Lord keeps good spirits constantly near 
 to them, and in every innocent amusement they are 
 endeavoring to impart those remains of goodness and 
 truth which will enable them to be useful and happy 
 as they grow older." 
 
 " I will remember this, mother, and I will try to be 
 patient, even if little Ellen pulls my pretty bed to 
 pieces, and puts the ladies into the kitchen, and Susy, 
 the girl who does my work, into the parlor." 
 
 " She will probably do these and many other strange 
 things," replied Mrs. Gray ; " but you must always 
 try, when playing with little children, to play entirely 
 for their amusement. Do not attempt to have things 
 in your own way, but devote yourself to making them 
 happy." 
 
 " And uow all is ready," said Clara, " and how I 
 wish to-morrow evening was here." 
 
 "Never wish away time, my dear Clara, but en- 
 deavor to improve every moment as it flies. When 
 we are busily engaged in our duties and pleasures, 
 time always passes quickly." 
 
 Clara followed her mother's advice, and attended 
 diligently to her studies during the forenoon of the 
 following day. The afternoon was devoted to reading, 
 sewing, and walking. The hours soon passed away, 
 and the coach containing the travellers drove to the
 
 140 I FORGOT. 
 
 door before Clara had begun to watch for its appear- 
 ance. 
 
 For two or three days little Ellen was too much 
 grieved, by the separation from her father and mother, 
 to show much affection for the new friends around 
 her ; but she soon forgot her troubles, and appeared 
 perfectly contented and happy. She was a sweet- 
 looking, happy child, and no one could look in her 
 innocent face without loving her dearly. 
 
 Clara devoted every leisure moment to her. The 
 baby-house was at first in constant disorder, but very 
 soon Ellen would try to arrange the playthings as she 
 saw Clara do, and if she did not succeed in putting 
 them in their proper places, she would run to her 
 cousin, and pull her by the frock, saying, " Come, 
 Tara, come." When all the things were in order, she 
 would clap her little hands, and say, " Pretty, pretty ! 
 Ellen happy now." This pleased Clara very much, 
 and she sometimes told her mother that she loved 
 Ellen more and more every day. 
 
 " I can teach her many things," she said, " but there 
 are some things which she teaches me. I never thought 
 so much about the Lord, and heaven, and the angels, 
 as I have done since Ellen has lived with us. I love 
 to think how the angels watch over her, and try to 
 teach her what is good and true. Sometimes when 
 nay lessons trouble me. and I feel idle and cross, if
 
 I FORGOT. 141 
 
 little Ellen comes into the room all these evil feelings 
 go away, and I resolve to be good and happy. I 
 think she brings the angels with her, and this makes 
 me feel better." 
 
 " You must remember that the Lord keeps angels 
 near to you as well as to Ellen, Clara^" replied Mrs. 
 Gray. " The evil spirits are suffered to have more 
 power over you than over her, because you are older, 
 and have learned to distinguish between good and evil. 
 You can easily tell whether the thoughts which come 
 into your mind are right or wrong, and you know that 
 the Lord will always enable you to remove the evil 
 spirits, and suffer the angels to draw near to you, if 
 you sincerely desire it." 
 
 " Yes, mother, I know this ; but sometimes I think 
 I should love to be a little child like Ellen, and then I 
 should not so often feel tempted to do wrong. How 
 sweet she looks when she is asleep. When I look at 
 her then, mother, I always feel like praying to the 
 Lord. My heart seems to be raised to Him." 
 
 "It is a good feeling, my dear, child," said Mrs. 
 Gray, kissing Clara affectionately. " The angels are 
 indeed near to you when your heart is thus raised to 
 your Heavenly Father, and He will always hear your 
 prayer, and strengthen you to walk in the path of 
 goodness and truth." 
 
 Several months had passed since the commencement
 
 142 I FORGOT. 
 
 of our story, and in many respects Clara had consider- 
 ably improved. " I forgot " was an expression less 
 frequently used than formerly ; but still her old habits 
 of heedless forgetfulness were often troublesome, and 
 she was frequently mortified to find that her friends 
 feared to trust her in any important matter, lest she 
 should neglect to perf6rm her duty. 
 
 " Why will you never allow Ellen to walk alone 
 with me, Margaret?" inquired Clara of the faithful 
 woman who had charge of her little cousin ; "I am 
 sure I am old enough to take good care of her, and 
 she loves me almost as well as she does you." 
 
 " You are very kind to her,' and she loves you very 
 much, Miss Clara," replied Margaret ; " but I should 
 fear to trust her in the street with you, because you 
 are sometimes a little thoughtless, and some accident 
 might happen to her. When your aunt parted from 
 the dear child, she begged me, with tears in her eyes, 
 to watch over her night and day, and I shall faithfully 
 try to keep the promise I then made." 
 
 " But, Margaret," urged Clara, " what accident 
 could happen to Ellen if I took her to walk up and 
 down the street, and kept hold of her hand all the 
 way. I would not leave her an instant." 
 
 " You might forget her," said Margaret, hesitat- 
 ingly, for she did not wish to grieve Clara. " Some 
 of your schoolmates might call to you, or something 
 else might take your attention."
 
 I FORGOT. 143 
 
 " You ought not to say so," replied Clara, looking a 
 little offended. " I know I forget things sometimes, 
 but they are almost always trifling matters, such as 
 errands, or some other little thing. I could not forget 
 Ellen. Could I, mother?" she continued, appealing 
 to her mother, who was sitting in the next room, and 
 had heard the conversation. . 
 
 " I think Margaret is right, Clara," replied Mrs. 
 Gray. " While we see you so forgetful of little duties, 
 it would not be proper to intrust you with any thing 
 important. I think you have improved in this respect 
 lately, but you are still very thoughtless, and do not 
 make so much effort to correct the fault as I could 
 wish." 
 
 Clara did not look very pleasant while her mother 
 was speaking. 
 
 " I do not think I am any more forgetful than other 
 people," she said. " Every one forgets sometimes." 
 
 "You speak improperly, Clara," said her mother. 
 "You are not in a good, humble state, willing to 
 acknowledge your faults and try to remove them." 
 
 Clara made no reply, and soon left the room. She 
 felt grieved and displeased that her little cousin could 
 not be intrusted to her care, and she felt disposed to 
 charge her mother and Margaret with unkindness, 
 rather than to blame herself for deserving the mortifi- 
 cation.
 
 144 I FORGOT. 
 
 Not many days after the above conversation, Clara 
 and Ellen were playing in the sitting-room, while Mrs. 
 Gray and Margaret were busily engaged in one of the 
 upper rooms, quilting a bed-spread. There was no 
 fire in the room where the children were, and it ap- 
 peared perfectly safe to leave them together for an 
 hour or two. 
 
 Clara was keeping house, and she frequently sent 
 Ellen to different parts of the room to purchase such 
 articles as she supposed herself to need. Sometimes 
 she was ordered to go to the grocer's for tea and 
 sugar, sometimes to the market for meat and vegeta- 
 bles. Ellen would run cheerfully to the place pointed 
 out, pick up a bit of paper or any thing else that she 
 could find, and return with it to Clara. I suppose you 
 have all seen children playing in this manner. 
 
 " You must have a market-basket, Ellen," said 
 Clara. " I know where there is one that will do 
 nicely. It belongs to me, but I never used it, so 
 mother put it up on the upper shelf in this closet. I 
 will take it down." 
 
 Thus saying, Clara opened the door of the closet, 
 and stepped upon a chair that she might reach the 
 basket. There were several other things upon the 
 shelf, and amongst others a box of small papers, neatly 
 folded up and carefully labelled. When Clara took 
 her basket down she upset this box, and some of the
 
 I FORGOT. 145 
 
 papers fell to the floor. She picked them up and put 
 them in their place ; but after she had shut the door, 
 she saw that one little parcel had fallen upon the table 
 near to the closet. " Never mind," thought Clara, " I 
 will put it back directly, as soon as I have fixed the 
 basket for Ellen." 
 
 They continued their play, and an hour passed very 
 happily. Clara had forgotten all about the paper, 
 which still lay upon the table. She was showing 
 Ellen the pictures in a large and valuable book of her 
 father's, when Margaret looked in at the door, and 
 inquired if they wanted any thing. 
 
 "Nothing at all, I thank you, Margaret," replied 
 Clara ; " you may quilt another hour, if you like. 
 We are having a fine time." 
 
 Margaret gave them each a cake, and returned to 
 her work. 
 
 While they were eating their cake, Clara saw a 
 little girl, of whom Ellen was very fond, driving her 
 hoop back and forth in front of the house. 
 
 ; ' Oh, there is Mary ! " she exclaimed ; " look, El- 
 len, how fast she drives her hoop ! I wish I could 
 take you out there." 
 
 Ellen knocked upon the window, and called "Mamy, 
 Marny ! " but Mary did not hear. 
 
 " I will run to the door and call her," said Clara, 
 13
 
 146 I FORGOT. 
 
 " and then she will come and see Ellen. Will you sit 
 still while I am gone ? " 
 
 Ellen sat down very quietly, and folded her hands, 
 as she always did Avhen asked to wait for any one, and 
 Clara ran to the door to call Mary. 
 
 Mary was an obedient, thoughtful child, and she 
 told Clara that she could not come without her mother's 
 leave, but if she would wait a moment, she would 
 ask her. 
 
 The house where Mary lived was next door to Mr. 
 Gray's, so Clara promised to wait while she asked her 
 mother. 
 
 " Be as quick as you can, Mary," she said, " for I 
 left Ellen alone." 
 
 Mary ran into the house, but returned directly, say- 
 ing, " I cannot come now, Clara, because mother wants 
 me to take care of the baby. But just look at this 
 beautiful present that my aunt sent me last evening," 
 and she showed Clara a pretty little work-box, and, 
 touching a spring, it commenced playing a lively tune. 
 " How pretty ! " exclaimed Clara, " I never saw a 
 musical work-box before ; " and she stood still listen- 
 ing to the music until the sounds died away, and the 
 box was as silent as any other work-box. 
 
 " Oh, make it play once more, Mary ! " said Clara ; 
 and Mary again touched the spring, and it played 
 another tune even prettier than the first.
 
 I FORGOT. 147 
 
 Clara would still have begged for another, for the 
 music and the pretty box had banished Wery thing 
 else from her mind ; but her more thoughtful com- 
 panion reminded her that Ellen was alone, and that 
 she must go to her mother. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Clara, " I forgot all about 
 Ellen ; I hope she has not cried for me. Perhaps she 
 opened the door and went up stairs. Sb.3 goes up 
 alone sometimes. Good-bye, Mary," and she ran 
 back to the sitting-room. 
 
 Ellen had left the seat where Clara had placed her, 
 and was standing by the table, with the little parcel 
 which had been left there in her hand. 
 
 As her cousin entered the room, she looked up and 
 said, 
 
 " Ellen cry when Tara gone, then Ellen find sugar.'* 
 
 " Sugar," said Clara, snatching the paper from her 
 hand. " Have you been eating it, Ellen ? I wonder 
 Avhat it is." 
 
 As she spoke she looked at the writing upon the 
 back of the paper, and saw " Sugar of Lead " written 
 upon it in large letters, and the word " poison " beneath. 
 
 Clara saw that the paper was now empty, and she 
 knew that Ellen must have eaten its contents. She 
 turned deadly pale, and for a few moments stood mo- 
 tionless, as if at a loss what to do. Then rushing to 
 the staircase, she screamed to her mother and Mar-
 
 148 I FORGOT. 
 
 garet in such a frantic manner that they both ran to 
 her in great alarm. 
 
 "Oh, mother, mother ! " she sobbed, " I have killed 
 Ellen. I left her alone for a few minutes, while I 
 listened to Mary's music-box, and she has eaten some 
 sugar of lead." 
 
 " Eaten sugar of lead ! " exclaimed Mrs. Gray. " It 
 is impossible, for it was upon the upper shelf in the 
 closet ; she could not have reached it." 
 
 " No, no, mother, she did not reach it ; but I left it 
 on the table, and forgot to put it back, and then I for- 
 got to return to Ellen, and stood listening to the music 
 a long time. She has eaten it all, and she will die, 
 mother. Oh, what shall I do ? " 
 
 Poor Margaret had caught Ellen in her arms, and 
 was now sobbing as if her heart would break ; but 
 Mrs. Gray, with more presence of mind, begged her 
 to be calm, and not alarm the child, as any agitation 
 might hasten the effect of the poison. 
 
 " Do you, Margaret, go immediately for Dr. Greg- 
 ory," she said, " and Clara must go to her father's 
 office and ask him to come directly home. There was 
 but a small quantity in the paper. We may do much 
 for her if we are calm." 
 
 Then, taking the child in her own arms, she spoke 
 to her in a quiet and soothing manner, and taking 
 her up stairs, gave her an antidote for poison, nnd
 
 I FORGOT. 149 
 
 then amused her until the physician and Mr. Gray 
 arrived. 
 
 Prompt and judicious remedies in a measure coun- 
 teracted the fatal effects of the poison, but a serious 
 illness could not be avoided. For many days little 
 Ellen seemed to hover between life and death, and 
 even after the physician had pronounced her out of 
 danger, she was for a long time so feeble that no one 
 would have supposed her to be the same child who 
 had seemed so full of life and health but a few weeks 
 before. 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe the agony which poor 
 Clara suffered during the sickness of her little cousin. 
 Her parents treated her with great kindness, for they 
 thought the lesson she had received was sufficiently 
 severe, without adding to'it by their reproaches. 
 
 For a long time she could not bear to say a word 
 upon the subject, but it was evident that a great change 
 was taking place in her character. She was now not 
 only industrious and obliging, but so thoughtful and 
 considerate that her friends soon felt willing to trust 
 her, even where the greatest care was necessary. 
 
 The cold winter months had passed away, and 
 spring had again returned to gladden the earth. Fa- 
 vorable accounts had been received from Ellen's parents. 
 Her father's health had improved rapidly, and they 
 were now about to return home, 
 l i*
 
 150 I FORGOT. 
 
 " Do you think they will be here in another month, 
 mother ? " asked Clara, as her mother finished reading 
 a letter which she had just received from their distant 
 friends. 
 
 " I think they will, Clara," replied Mrs. Gray. 
 " Are you prepared to part with our dear Ellen ? " 
 
 Clara's eyes filled with tears as she replied, " I shall 
 try to be prepared, mother, but it will be a great trial. 
 I always loved Ellen dearly, and since I came so near 
 being the cause of her death, I have loved her more 
 than ever. Every day I thank the Lord for His 
 mercy in restoring her to health. It was a sad lesson, 
 mother, but it helped me to see how really selfish I 
 was. I could never quite understand why you and 
 father should call forgetfulness a kind of selfishness ; 
 but when I sincerely endeavored to become more 
 thoughtful, I found that the true reason why I used to 
 forget so often was because I thought so much more 
 of myself than I did of others. I now try to be very 
 watchful of this fault, and I pray to the Lord to help 
 me put it away." 
 
 " And you will never look to Him in vain, my dear 
 Clara," said Mrs. Gray. " You have already im- 
 proved very much. Persevere steadily in the endeavor 
 to remove selfishness in all its forms. It is the foun- 
 tain from which many evils flow."
 
 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 AND 
 
 THE GOLDEN DAY. 
 
 " O FATHER ! please to come to the door, and see how 
 pretty everything looks," exclaimed William Mason, 
 running eagerly into the room where his father was 
 sitting. 
 
 Mr, Mason was always glad to give his son pleasure, 
 and he laid aside the newspaper which he was reading, 
 and followed him to the door. 
 
 There had been quite a heavy snow-storm a few 
 days before, which was succeeded by rain, and then 
 by severe cold. Everything was now entirely cased in 
 ice. 
 
 "Is it not beautiful, father?" said William. "I 
 have been all around the yard and garden, and every- 
 thing has put on its winter coat. Every little branch 
 and twig, every blade of grass, and even the little 
 stones are covered with ice." 
 (151)
 
 152 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 " This is what we used to call a silver morning, 
 when I was a boy," said Mr. Mason. 
 
 " That is a good name for it, father," replied Wil- 
 liam ; " for everything shines like silver. Look at the 
 road ; it is almost as smooth as the pond. I think I 
 can skate to school this morning." 
 
 "You would probably find some rough places, which 
 would injure your skates," replied Mr. Mason ; " but 
 look towards the east, my son, and you will see some- 
 thing more beautiful than anything you have yet 
 observed." 
 
 There was a thick wood of pines toward the east, 
 and, as William looked, he saw that the trees glittered 
 like diamonds, and he cculd see colors like those of a 
 rainbow in every direction. 
 
 He clapped his hands with delight. 
 
 " O father," he exclaimed, " this is the most beauti- 
 ful sight of all. The sun is rising, and soon it will 
 shine on all the trees and plants, and then everything 
 will look as beautiful as the pine trees do now. It was 
 a silver morning, father, but it will be a golden day." 
 
 " It will, indeed," replied Mr. Mason. " Every- 
 thing looked cold and dead before the rays of the sun 
 shone upon them, but now all are sparkling with beauty. 
 The trees will soon lose their icy casing, but the water 
 will sink into the ground, and perform many important 
 uses. The frosts and snows of winter prepare the way
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 153 
 
 for the warmth and beauty of spring and summer. 
 The earth rests from its labors, and is in various ways 
 enriched and strengthened." 
 
 " I like all the seasons, father," said William. "In 
 winter, I am so happy when skating and sliding in the 
 fine cool air, that I wish the weather might always be 
 cold ; but Avhen spring and summer and autumn come, 
 with their long sunny days, and their beautiful birds 
 and flowers and delicious fruits, I quite forget winter 
 and its pleasures." 
 
 "Yes, every season has its delights," replied his 
 father; "but look, William, there is one of your school- 
 fellows. Is he already on his way to school ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is only Louis Cunningham," returned 
 William, glancing rather contemptuously at a plainly 
 dressed, but intelligent and manly looking boy, who 
 was passing by. 
 
 " Only Louis Cunningham" repeated Mr. Mason ! 
 " Well, is he not one of your school-fellows ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, father, he goes to the same school. 
 The master gives him his schooling for making the 
 fire and keeping the room in good order. We call 
 him the charity scholar." 
 
 " I am grieved to hear you speak in this manner," 
 said Mr. Mason, gravely. " Mr. Cunningham died 
 when Louis was very young, and his mother has been 
 obliged to deny him many advantages of education,
 
 154 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 which she would gladly have given him if it had been 
 in her power. Your teacher heard of their situation, 
 and finding, from conversation with Louis, that he was 
 an intelligent boy, and very desirous to learn, he kindly 
 offered to take him into his school. But Louis and 
 his mother, although they were very grateful for the 
 offer, felt unwilling to accept it, unless they could make 
 some return for the kindness ; and it was finally ar- 
 ranged, that Louis should take care of the school-room 
 and make the fire, and I have been told that he per- 
 forms these duties very faithfully." 
 
 " He does, indeed," replied William. " The room 
 is always warm and comfortable, and so nicely swept 
 and dusted, that we never have an/ cause of com- 
 plaint." 
 
 " One would suppose, then, my son, that you would 
 feel grateful to the person who performs these kind 
 offices, instead of regarding him with contempt and 
 dislike." 
 
 " Oh, we do not dislike Louis, Father. He is 
 always kind and obliging ; but we do not like to see 
 him placed on an equality with the rest of the boys, 
 and often pronounced the best scholar in his class." 
 
 " These are evil feelings, William, and I hope to 
 have the pleasure of helping you put them away. Sit 
 down by me in the parlor for a few minutes, and we 
 will talk about Louis. Can you tell me why the boys
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAT. 155 
 
 think he should not be placed upon an equality with 
 them ? Is he inferior to the others as a scholar, or is 
 he a wicked, profane boy?" 
 
 " Oh no, father. Louis is a very good boy, and a 
 better scholar than many who have had greater advan- 
 tages ; but, as he does not pay for his schooling, we 
 do not think that he is entitled to the same privileges 
 that we are." 
 
 " Even if this were the case, he would be entitled to 
 every privilege, William, if Mr. Grant chose to instruct 
 him without remuneration ; but Louis does pay for his 
 schooling ; not indeed with his father's money, be- 
 cause the Lord has seen fit to remove his father to the 
 spiritual world, but with his own labor. Mr. Grant 
 considers his services as an equivalent to his instruc- 
 tion, and, according to your own account, the duties 
 are well performed. Louis, then, pays for his school- 
 ing as much, or more, than any boy in school ; for the 
 others depend upon their father's labor, while he de- 
 pends upon his own. Your school bills, as Avell as 
 other expenses, are paid from the proceeds of my daily 
 labor in my profession, and the case is the same with 
 the other boys who attend your school." 
 
 " This is very true, father," replied William, " and 
 I know it is wrong to despise those who are poorer 
 than ourselves. We often laugh at Louis, when he 
 comes to school with coarse, patched clothes ; but
 
 156 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 I suppose his mother cannot afford to buy him any 
 better." 
 
 " She cannot, indeed, William ; and of how little 
 consequence is external clothing, compared to many 
 other things in which Louis probably surpasses your 
 other school-mates. It is right to be neat and clean, 
 and as well dressed as our circumstances will admit ; 
 but the clothing of our soul is of more importance 
 than the clothing of our bodies. If Louis is indus- 
 trious, obedient, faithful in the performance of his 
 duties, and in the endeavor to shun evil words and 
 deeds, he appears to the Lord and the angels as if 
 clothed in the most beautiful raiment." 
 
 William made no reply, but appeared much inter- 
 ested in what his father was saying, and Mr. Mason 
 continued, 
 
 u You must ever remember the Golden Rule, my 
 son. Think how you would wish to be treated, if you 
 were situated like Louis ; and then you will be more 
 careful not to wound his feelings, by contempt or idle 
 jests." 
 
 " I will try to remember, father. I know I have 
 done wrong, and I will begin to-day, and treat Louis 
 just the same as I do the other scholars. Perhaps I 
 may be able to help in soma way." 
 
 " These are good resolutions, my son ; and, if they 
 are carried into practice, they will do you and others
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 157 
 
 much good. The light has dawned in your mind. It 
 is a silver morning, and the rays of the spiritual sun 
 will render it a golden day" 
 
 Within an hour after this conversation, William was 
 on his way to school, with his satchel of books and his 
 skates slung over his shoulder, and his dinner pail in 
 his hand. He was soon joined by several companions, 
 and each boy tried to display his skill in keeping his 
 balance on the glare ice, which to many would have 
 rendered the road almost impassable. But boys have 
 little fear of ice and snow, and, half running and half 
 sliding, they soon reached the school-house, where they 
 found, as usual, a comfortable and neatly arranged 
 room. 
 
 Louis Cunningham was busily engaged at his desk, 
 and, being little accustomed to any morning saluta- 
 tions from his school-fellows, he did not look up when 
 they entered. He was somewhat surprised to hear 
 William exclaim : " Good morning, Louis. What a 
 grand fire you have got for us. I am sure we are 
 much obliged to you, this cold morning." 
 
 "You are very welcome," he replied with a pleasant 
 smile. " I came earlier than usual, on account of 
 the severe cold. I am glad you find the room com- 
 fortable." 
 
 " I should not have liked to have been the one to 
 make the fire this morning," remarked one of the boys. 
 14
 
 158 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 " In many schools the scholars take turns in cleaning 
 the room and making the fire." 
 
 "It is not fair that they should do so," observed 
 another. " Their parents pay for their schooling, and 
 it is not right that they should be obliged to spend 
 their time and injure their clothes in sweeping rooms 
 and making fires. It does well enough for those who 
 cannot pay." 
 
 " For shame ! John Gray," exclaimed William. 
 "You should not speak so thoughtlessly. You trouble 
 Louis," he added in a whisper. 
 
 John was a kind-hearted boy, but rude and thought- 
 less in his manners. 
 
 " I do not wish to trouble Louis," he said aloud. 
 " I only spoke the truth." 
 
 The color, which had deepened on Louis's cheek, 
 faded away, and he said, kindly, 
 
 " You do not trouble me, John. I agree with you 
 in thinking that those whose pai-ents can pay for their 
 schooling should not be expected to take care of the 
 room. But as I am situated, I regard it as a very 
 great favor that I am in this way enabled to earn my 
 own schooling." 
 
 " It is a great favor to us," exclaimed several boys. 
 "We never before had so neat and comfortable a 
 room." 
 
 The entrance of Mr. Grant, the teacher, prevented
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 159 
 
 any farther conversation, and each boy quietly took his 
 seat, and performed his accustomed duties. 
 
 At noon, there was fine sport with coasting and 
 skating, but, in the midst of his play, William remem- 
 bered his promise to his father; and, finding that 
 Louis Avas not among his companions, he sought him 
 in the school-house. He found him seated at his desk, 
 busily engaged with a pencil and piece of paper. 
 
 "Come, Louis," he exclaimed, "Come and play 
 with us. There is fine skating on the pond." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Louis, " but I have no skates 
 this winter. I had a pair once, but they are worn 
 out." 
 
 " Then I will lend you mine, and I will slide for a 
 little while. I shall like that quite as well. Do 
 come," urged William ; and, as he spoke, he ap- 
 proached the desk, and looked at the picture which 
 Louis was drawing. 
 
 " Why, Louis ! " he said, with an expression of sur- 
 prise, " I had no idea that you could draw so beauti- 
 fully. You almost equal our drawing-master. Who 
 taught you ? " 
 
 " No one," replied Louis. " I love to draw. If it 
 were not wrong to neglect other duties, I would spend 
 every day in doing nothing else." 
 
 " Why do you not take lessons with the rest of us, 
 Louis ? I am sure our drawing-master would be proud
 
 160 TH SILVER MORNING 
 
 of such a pupil. How you would laugh at our strange- 
 looking pictures ! " 
 
 " Mr. Grant is very kind, to give me so many other 
 advantages," answered Louis ; " I should not like to 
 -ask the privilege of a seat at the drawing-tables, and 
 then the pencils and paper are quite an expense. And 
 if I learned to paint, it Avould be still more expensive ; 
 but, oh ! I should love to learn so much," and his face 
 grew bright with pleasure at the very thought. 
 
 " You must learn, Louis ; I am resolved that you 
 shall," said William ; " but come now, and have one 
 good play before school." 
 
 Thus urged, Louis joined his companions, and, en- 
 couraged by William's example, all received him 
 kindly, and were careful to allow him equal rights 
 with themselves, and not to wound his feelings by 
 foolish jokes and sarcastic observations. 
 
 About fifteen minutes before the hour for school to 
 commence, William saw Mr. Grant enter the school- 
 house, and, quietly leaving his play-fellows, he hastened 
 to follow him. 
 
 Taking from Louis's desk the picture upon which 
 he had been so busily engaged at noon, he presented 
 it to the teacher, saying, 
 
 " Is not this pretty well done, sir ? " 
 
 " Remarkably well," replied Mr. Grant. "You have 
 improved wonderfully, William."
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 161 
 
 " It is not mine, sir. Louis did it. He has never 
 had any instruction in drawing, but I am sure if you 
 will allow him a seat at the drawing-tables, he will 
 soon equal our drawing-master himself." 
 
 " He shall have every advantage, certainly," replied 
 Mr. Grant. " I am pleased with your request, Wil- 
 liam ; for I have observed with pain that some of the 
 scholars regard Louis with feelings of contempt and 
 dislike, which are certainly quite undeserved." 
 
 " I have been in fault in this respect," replied Wil- 
 liam, blushing deeply, " but my father has convinced 
 me that such feelings are very wrong, and I am resolved 
 to do better." 
 
 " I am glad that you have made so good a resolu- 
 tion, William. Your example will help the other 
 scholars to do right also. You may have the pleasure 
 of telling Louis that he can receive regular instruction 
 in drawing, on the afternoons when the drawing-master 
 attends the school." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied William, and he joyfully 
 returned to his play-fellows. 
 
 A few whispered words told Louis of what had 
 passed, and the glow of pleasure which suffused his 
 countenance, and the warm pressure of the hand, 
 amply rewarded William for his kindness. 
 
 " I have pencils and paper enough for both, Louis," 
 14*
 
 162 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 he continued, " and I know my father will be glad to 
 have me share them with you." 
 
 The sound of the bell now summoned the whole 
 party to the school-room, and as this was the afternoon 
 for the drawing-master, William had the pleasure of 
 seeing his new friend seated by his side, and of hearing 
 the warm commendations which were bestowed upon 
 the contents of his little portfolio, which, at the request 
 of the teacher, Louis modestly exhibited. 
 
 Much of the ice in the streets had melted away, but 
 the trees were still glittering in the bright sunlight, 
 when William left the school-house and took the road 
 toward home. To him everything seemed even more 
 beautiful than it had done in the morning, for his heart 
 was filled with that happiness which always results 
 from doing good. His father met him at the door. 
 
 "Well, my son," he said, "has it been a golden day 
 with you ? " 
 
 " It has, indeed, father," replied William. " I have 
 remembered what you told me, and I have already 
 found an opportunity to do Louis some good." 
 
 Mr. Mason listened with much interest to William's 
 little story, and gladly gave him leave to assist Louis, 
 by lending him his own drawing implements. 
 
 It was pleasing to observe the effect which William's 
 example of friendliness to Louis had upon the rest of 
 the scholars. He was no longer regarded with con-
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 163 
 
 tempt or indifference, but became as great a favorite 
 with the boys as a play-fellow, as he was with the 
 master as a scholar. The younger boys looked to him 
 for assistance in all their pleasures and troubles, for 
 they found that he was always willing to give up his 
 own pleasure for the sake of making them happy ; and 
 the older ones frequently assisted him in his duties in 
 the school-room, in order to gain so valuable a com- 
 panion in their plays. 
 
 His improvement in drawing and painting was so 
 rapid, that, before many months had elapsed, the 
 drawing-master declared he could teach him nothing 
 more, and advised him to procure a situation in some 
 of the large schools in the neighborhood, as teacher 
 of these branches. But about this time circumstances 
 occurred, which induced Mrs. Cunningham to remove 
 to a distant part of the country, and Louis was obliged 
 to bid farewell to his teachers and companions. 
 
 All parted from him with regret, but none felt the 
 loss so keenly as William Mason. He had been the 
 first among the boys to love Louis and endeavor to 
 assist him ; and, although the. latter was some years 
 older, a warm attachment had sprung up between 
 them. 
 
 Many years passed before they again met. Both 
 had grown to manhood, but the remembrance of their 
 early days was still fresh in their minds. William
 
 164 THE SILVER MORNING 
 
 Avas travelling through the principal States of the 
 Union, aiid stopped for the night in one of our most 
 flourishing cities. In the course of the evening he 
 visite 1, with some of his friends, a gallery of paintings 
 Avhich had been particularly recommended to his notice. 
 The collection was a fine one, and an hour soon passed 
 pleasantly aAvay. At length William suddenly stopped 
 before a small picture, and uttered an exclamation of 
 surprise, which brought his friends to his side. The 
 scene represented was not a remarkable one, a bright 
 winter's morning, and a lad with a satchel of books 
 and a pair of skates slung upon his shoulder, and a 
 dinner-pail in his hand, quietly pursuing his way to 
 school. 
 
 " What do you find surprising hi this ? " asked one 
 of William's companions. "It is a spirited little 
 sketch, to be sure. That lad bears a strong resem- 
 blance to you, William." 
 
 " It is myself," exclaimed William ; " and there is 
 the old school-house in the distance, and the pond 
 where we used to skate. Every object in the picture 
 is familiar to me, even that old tree which seems so 
 completely cased in ice. I must find the name of the 
 artist." 
 
 "That is easily ascertained," replied his companion, 
 turning to the catalogue which he held in his hand ; 
 " Cunningham, Louis Cunningham. There are seve-
 
 AND THE GOLDEN DAY. 165 
 
 ral other fine pictures in the gallery by the same per- 
 son. Do you know him, William ? " 
 
 " He is an old school-mate and particular friend," 
 replied William ; "I must inquire if he resides in this 
 city." 
 
 Louis Cunningham's address was easily obtained, 
 and William had the pleasure of hearing him spoken 
 of as a young artist of uncommon talents. At an 
 early hour the following morning he sought his early 
 friend, and received a warm welcome. Louis's story 
 was soon told. His mother's situation in life had been 
 improved, by a legacy left by a distant relative, and 
 she was thus enabled to give her son many advantages. 
 He had travelled in Europe, and received the best 
 instruction in his favorite pursuit, and his name was 
 now becoming widely known as one of our best Amer- 
 ican artists. 
 
 " But I have not forgotten the old school-house, and 
 our boyish days, dear William," he continued; "and I 
 do not forget that my first instructions in drawing were 
 received through your kindness. It was a bright day 
 to me when I was first seated at the drawing-table, 
 and allowed free access to your pencils and paper." 
 
 " I remember it, as if it were but yesterday," re- 
 plied William. " We had indulged a strange prejudice 
 against you up to that day, Louis. My father had 
 labored hard that bright and beautiful morning, to show
 
 166 THE SILVER MORNING, ETC. 
 
 me the sin of which I was guilty, in indulging such 
 feelings, and his words sunk deep in my heart. When 
 I parted from him, at school time, he remarked on the 
 beautiful appearance of the earth, clad in its robe of 
 silver, but pointed out the new beauty it would receive 
 when the rays of the sun should fall upon it ; and he 
 prayed that the rays of the spiritual sun might thus 
 vivify and add new beauty to the good resolutions 
 springing up in my mind, that the silver morning might 
 become the golden day." 
 
 " It was indeed a golden day to me," said Louis, 
 with emotion. " A fountain of kind feelings, which 
 had been checked by the coldness of my companions, 
 gushed forth at the kindness with which you treated 
 me ; and it seemed as if from that time all coldness 
 toward me disappeared, and I was treated by all with 
 kindness which I have ever remembered with gratitude. 
 The little picture which you saw in the gallery is a 
 proof of my remembrance of that day. You must 
 take it to your father, as a token of my respect and 
 love." 
 
 " I will gladly do so," replied William. " My 
 father will receive it with pleasure, and it shall hang 
 in our room as a memento of our early friendship, 
 and of a day which I shall always remember with 
 pleasing reflections."
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 " I SHOULD not think you would let him off so easily, 
 father," exclaimed Herbert Archer, as he listened to a 
 conversation between his father and a poor tenant who 
 begged for a little delay in the usual demand for the 
 rent. 
 
 " And why not, my son ? " replied Mr. Archer, as 
 they continued the walk which had been thus inter- 
 rupted. " He is poor and has been unfortunate. The 
 wealthy should not be indifferent to the sufferings of 
 those less prosperous than themselves." 
 
 " I know they should not, father ; but did I not 
 hear you say last winter that you would not assist 
 Simon Brown again, for it was only encouraging him 
 in idleness ? Do you not remember what we were 
 told about his allowing his poor wife, with her feeble 
 health, to go out to wash, while he remained sitting 
 quietly at home smoking his pipe and attending to the 
 children ? " 
 
 (167)
 
 168 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 " I do recollect it well, Herbert ; but my conclusions 
 were too hasty. Upon inquiry I found that there was 
 another side to the story. Poor Simon had the rheum- 
 atism so badly that for several weeks he could not 
 walk one step. In this situation he could do nothing 
 better than to make himself useful in the house, while 
 his wife procured what work she could to aid in the 
 support of their family. The truth is, my son, there 
 is almost always two sides to a story, and if we sus- 
 pend our judgment until we are sure that we know all 
 the particulars, we shall avoid the injustice which too 
 often results from hasty decisions." 
 
 Herbert listened with respect and attention to his 
 father's words, and acknowledged their truth ; but it 
 was not until after several useful lessons that he learned 
 to put this simple rule in practice. 
 
 Among the most valued of his playthings was a fine 
 kite, remarkable for its beauty and the swiftness of its 
 flight. 
 
 On his return from school one pleasant afternoon, 
 Herbert perceived that there was a fine breeze, and 
 hastily putting away his books, ran for his kite. But, 
 to his surprise, it was not in its proper place. Who 
 could have taken it ? He felt quite sure that he put it 
 away when he last played with it, and he felt much 
 displeased that any one should have ventured to touch 
 it without his leave.
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 169 
 
 He inquired of his mother and sisters, but they 
 knew nothing of it. He then went to the kitchen, and 
 Alice, the chambermaid, told him that about an hour 
 before she had seen his younger brother, Henry, with 
 it in his hand. 
 
 " He had no business to touch it without my leave,'' 
 exclaimed Herbert angrily. " I wish he would learn 
 to let my things alone," and his feelings toward his 
 brother were filled with unkindness. 
 
 He went to the barn in search of him, but Henry 
 was not there. In one corner, however, he discovered 
 his kite, soiled and torn, with the sticks broken and 
 the tail draggled in the dirt. This sight vexed him 
 still more, and he seized a little wagon which he had 
 been making for his brother that morning, and dashed 
 it in pieces. 
 
 " He is a naughty, bad boy," he exclaimed, " and I 
 will do nothing for him." 
 
 Upon further inquiry, he found that Henry had 
 received permission to pass the afternoon at their 
 Uncle's, and would not return until evening. 
 
 For several hours Herbert suffered evil thoughts and 
 feelings against his brother to remain in his mind, and 
 he complained to his mother and several others of the 
 injury which had been done to his favorite kite ; and 
 when his father came in to tea, he repeated the story 
 15
 
 170 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 to him, with many severe comments on the unkindness 
 of his brother. 
 
 He felt Somewhat rebuked when his father said 
 quietly, " Wait till you hear your brother's explana- 
 tion, my son. .Remember there are always two sides 
 to a story." 
 
 " There cannot be two sides to this one, father, for 
 Alice saw Henry with the kite in his hand, and no one 
 else has touched it." 
 
 " Strong proof, certainly, Herbert ; but, neverthe- 
 less, suspend your judgment until Henry comes. It is 
 possible that he did not tear the kite." 
 
 Herbert was silenced, but not convinced. His feel- 
 ings were not changed, and he met Henry in a sullen 
 and irritated manner. 
 
 " Oh, Herbert ! " exclaimed the little boy, " I wish 
 you could have been with me. I have had such a 
 delightful play with my cousins. I should have been 
 quite happy all the afternoon, only I could not help 
 thinking of your poor kite. Did you see it in the 
 barn ? " 
 
 " To be sure I did," replied Herbert, crossly ; " I 
 wish you had taken a fancy to destroy some other of 
 my playthings and let my kite alone." 
 
 " Why, Herbert, I did not destroy it. I found our 
 dog Pompey playing with it in the yard. I do not 
 know where he got it, but I took it away as quickly as
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 171 
 
 I could. I was very sorry that I did not see him 
 before it was spoiled." 
 
 A deep blush of shame overspread Herbert's face as 
 he thought of the wicked and unkind feelings which he 
 had harbored for so many hours. He now remem- 
 bered perfectly, that, being called away in haste, he 
 had left his kite beneath a tree in the yard, and no 
 doubt Pompey had found it there. There was, indeed, 
 two sides to this story, and now that the truth was 
 known, it was quite plain that he alone was to blame 
 for the accident. 
 
 His sorrow was increased when Henry eagerly in- 
 quired if he had finished the little wagon which he 
 had begun for him in the morning. 
 
 It was hard to tell his affectionate little brother that 
 he had been so very angry with him for his supposed 
 injury, that he had purposely destroyed the wagon 
 from which he had expected so much pleasure ; but 
 Herbert, though often hasty and passionate, was an 
 honest boy, and he answered frankly, 
 
 " I have done very wrong to-day, Henry. I sup- 
 posed that you had taken my kite without leave, and 
 had carelessly spoiled it, and I felt so angry that I 
 tossed the wagon upon the ground and broke it ; but, 
 if you will forgive me, I will make you a much larger 
 and better one to-morrow." 
 
 Henry readily expressed his forgiveness, and Her-
 
 172 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 bert, of his own accord, sought his father and told him 
 " the other side of the story." 
 
 For some time the little incident of the kite was 
 well remembered, and served as a warning to Herbert 
 to be less hasty in judging evil of others ; but as the 
 recollection of it faded from his mind, he was frequently 
 led into the same error, and often had cause to repent 
 of his rash decisions. 
 
 Among his schoolfellows was the son of a poor 
 widow, who had, until lately, labored hard with the 
 neighboring farmers to aid his mother in the support 
 of her little family. His admittance into the school 
 occasioned considerable surprise among the scholars, 
 who had hitherto regarded him as on a footing with 
 their fathers' Avorkmen, rather than on an equality 
 with themselves ; and there were some who were 
 wicked and foolish enough to wonder what business 
 William Camden had to attend the best school in the 
 neighborhood, and where he got the money to pay for 
 his tuition. 
 
 The greater part, however, were pleased that he 
 could have so good an opportunity for acquiring know- 
 ledge, and were surprised to find that he had already 
 made great progress in many branches which they 
 were pursuing. 
 
 Herbert Archer seemed particularly pleased with 
 the studiousness and good behavior of the widow's son,
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 173 
 
 and with the consent of his parents frequently aided 
 him in various ways, by presents of suitable books and 
 other things necessary to his advancement. 
 
 There Avas one circumstance, however, in regard to 
 William for which Herbert found it difficult to account. 
 He was frequently absent from school for whole days, 
 and when his companions inquired the cause, he would 
 answer indefinitely that his time had been much occu- 
 pied. The teacher expressed no displeasure on these 
 occasions, which had the effect of assuring the scholars 
 that all was right, until one unfortunate day, when a 
 boy, who had appeared to regard William with con- 
 tempt and dislike from his first entrance into the school, 
 made a discovery which he eagerly communicated to 
 the other pupils, hoping thereby to convince them that 
 his opinion was well founded. 
 
 " Who would like to know the reason why William 
 Camden stays from school so often ? " he exclaimed, as 
 he entered the school-room, where many of the boys 
 were assembled. 
 
 A large group immediately gathered around him, 
 and he continued in a sarcastic, contemptuous tone, 
 
 "I have at length found out the useful business 
 which so occupies his time. He is fond of wandering 
 in the woods and fields, amusing himself with robbing 
 birds' nests." 
 
 " For shame, George Wilson," replied Herbert 
 15*
 
 174 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 Archer. " It is impossible that you have detected 
 William engaged in so senseless and cruel a sport." 
 
 " Impossible or not, Master Archer," retorted the 
 other, "it is nevertheless a fact, and I can give you 
 ample proof of the truth of my words. One of my 
 father's workmen has recently been engaged in cutting 
 down several large trees in the wood adjoining our 
 house. On the last day that William was absent from 
 school, he assures me that he spent the whole of our 
 school hours in climbing trees and robbing the pretty 
 birds of their young. He reproved him for his cruelty, 
 but William only replied that he had a use for them,' 
 and went on his way. Probably he intended to enjoy 
 the pleasure of giving the poor things to his cat." 
 
 Herbert, who was a great enemy to all cruelty, 
 could hardly restrain his indignation, and as William 
 entered at that moment, he turned to him abruptly, 
 and demanded, with some authority of manner, if it 
 was true that he had stayed from school a few days 
 before for the purpose of robbing birds' nests ? Some- 
 what hurt and offended at the tone in which Herbert 
 addressed him, and at the indignant countenances of 
 his schoolmates, William answered, rather shortly, 
 
 " That it was perfectly true that he had taken several 
 young birds from their nests a day or two previous, 
 and thought it quite probable that he should do so 
 atrain, if it suited his convenience."
 
 TWO SIDFS TO A STORY. 175 
 
 This was a wrong way of answering, and only in- 
 creased the ill feeling which prevailed against him. 
 George Wilson looked triumphantly at Herbert, who 
 was only restrained from a burst of passion by the 
 entrance of the teacher, and the usual summons to 
 their studies. 
 
 After school, instead of joining William, as usual, 
 that they might walk part of the way together, Her- 
 bert carefully avoided him, and selecting another com- 
 panion, declared his intention of having nothing more 
 to do with one who could thus wantonly engage in 
 cruel sport. 
 
 This resolution he also expressed to his father, after 
 relating to him the circumstances which had come to 
 his knowledge. Mr. Archer shook his head, saying, 
 " Are you sure there are not two sides to the story, 
 my son?" But Herbert replied in a positive manner 
 that there could not be another side, as William had 
 himself admitted the truth of the charge. 
 
 Nothing farther was said upon the subject, and Mr. 
 Archer soon forgot the whole affair. 
 
 Weeks passed on, and the intimacy between the two 
 boys was not resumed. William continued to absent 
 himself occasionally from school, and several boys tes- 
 tified that they had two or three times met him with 
 young birds in his hand, and when asked what he 
 intended doing with them, he had replied in his usual 
 unsatisfactory manner.
 
 176 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 One day, as Herbert was returning from school, he 
 met an old friend of his father's, a gentleman residing 
 in a neighboring town, at whose house he had often 
 visited, and with whom he was very familiar. Mr. 
 Morgan was a widower, aad he had one little son 
 several years younger than Herbert, to whose welfare 
 he was constantly devoted. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Herbert," he said, kindly ; 
 "it is a long time since you have visited me. My 
 little Arthur has missed you very much." 
 
 " TVe shall soon have a vacation at our school," 
 replied Herbert, " and then I shall be much pleased to 
 corae and see you. My studies occupy me very closely 
 just now." 
 
 " That is right, my boy. Youth is the time for 
 improvement. Speaking of your school reminds me 
 of one of your schoolfellows, of whom I should like 
 your opinion, for I know that boys have many oppor- 
 tunities of finding out each other's characters, and I 
 can rely upon your statement. I refer to William 
 Camclen. I knew his father well. He was a sensible, 
 honest man, and I have often thought that I should 
 like to do something for his family. I have lately 
 formed a plan for travelling for the next two or three 
 years with my little boy, and I have concluded, if I 
 can find a well-principled lad, somewhat advanced in 
 ratio:), to take him with us as a sort of tutor
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. i < / 
 
 and companion for Arthur. I shall watch over them 
 both myself, and shall procure the best instruction in 
 my power at the different places Avhere we may sojourn ; 
 but there are many of the common branches which 
 Arthur Avould learn even more readily from a sensible 
 lad, a few years his senior, than from an older person, 
 and he would at the same time have the advantage of 
 a pleasant companion. The great difficulty is to find 
 one on whose principles and habits I can fully depend. 
 I have thought of William Camden, as I have often 
 heard him well spoken of. His mother depends some- 
 what upon his assistance, but I will make that easy 
 for them. Now, tell me plainly what you think of 
 William." 
 
 Herbert hesitated, for he knew that the proposition 
 of Mr. Morgan would be of great advantage to his 
 schoolfellow ; and, in spite of his present dislike to 
 William, he was unwilling to say any thing which 
 might deprive him of an advantageous offer. But he 
 thought it right to tell the whole truth, and he answered, 
 with some indignation in his manner, 
 
 " A few weeks ago, sir, I should have thought that 
 William Camden would have suited your purpose bet- 
 ter than any boy of my acquaintance, but I fear I was 
 deceived in him. He frequently stays from school, 
 and passes his time in the woods engaged in the cruel 
 sport of robbing birds' nests."
 
 178 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 " Cruel sport, indeed ! " exclaimed Mr. Morgan. 
 " A boy who will do that must be destitute of kind 
 and generous feelings. It may seem a trifle, but it 
 would decide me at once not to make him the com- 
 panion of my son. You are sure that there is no 
 mistake in this matter, Herbert ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, sir. I heard William acknowledge it 
 myself. I was very unwilling to believe it until there 
 was no room for doubt." 
 
 " I am glad I met with you," remarked his friend. 
 " I have another boy in view, who will perhaps suit 
 me better. I must make all proper inquiries." 
 
 Thus saying, he bade Herbert good afternoon, and 
 rode away in the direction of his own home. 
 
 A few days after, Herbert accompanied his father to 
 a large town several miles distant from their own 
 home. While his father was engaged in the transac- 
 tion of business, he walked slowly through the prin- 
 cipal streets, amusing himself with what was passing 
 around him, and occasionally stopping to look at some- 
 thing attractive in the shop windows. At length he 
 became much interested in watching the quick motions 
 of several birds of different kinds, whose cages were 
 suspended at the door of a bird fancier's establishment. 
 
 As he stood looking at their lively movements and 
 listening to their sweet songs, he was suprised to 
 observe WilMam Camden standing in the shop with a
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 179 
 
 large cage in his hand containing a great many young 
 birds of various kinds, for which he appeared to be 
 just concluding a bargain with the bird fancier. 
 
 " This, then, is what he does with his young birds," 
 thought Herbert ; " but why was he so secret about 
 it?" 
 
 At this instant William turned around and recog- 
 nized his companion. He colored deeply, and at first 
 seemed inclined not to speak ; but better feelings gained 
 the ascendancy, and, approaching Herbert, he said 
 pleasantly, 
 
 " You have discovered what I do with my young 
 birds. It does seem cruel to catch them, but I try to 
 do it as kindly as possible. I seldom take more than 
 one from a nest, and always watch the time when the 
 old birds are absent, that I may not alarm them. 
 The money which I earn in this way not only defrays 
 the expenses of my education, but enables me to assist 
 my poor mother." 
 
 "But why were you so secret about it?" asked 
 Herbert. " Why did you not tell us plainly for what 
 purpose you caught the birds ? " 
 
 " My first motive for secrecy," replied William, 
 "Was to prevent thoughtless and idle boys from fol- 
 lowing my example, fearing that they would not so 
 strictly endeavor to avoid cruelty. But when you 
 questioned me on the subject, I should have answered
 
 180 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 
 
 frankly had I not felt irritated by your manner, and 
 hurt that you could suppose me capable of engaging in 
 such an occupation for sport." 
 
 " I did wrong," replied Herbert ; " as usual, my 
 judgment was too hasty. I ask your forgiveness, 
 William, for my suspicions ; but I fear I have been 
 the means of doing you a great injury. I must seek 
 my father without delay ; " and thus saying he abruptly 
 departed, leaving William much surprised at his words. 
 
 Mr. Archer listened with interest to Herbert's story, 
 and yielded to his entreaties to go immediately to Mr. 
 Morgan, in the hope that it was not yet too late to 
 repair the wrong which he had done his companion. 
 
 When they reached the house, Herbert's impatience 
 was so great that he could hardly wait until the cus- 
 tomary salutations were exchanged, before he said, 
 with much earnestness, 
 
 "Have you yet found anyone to fill the place of 
 which you spoke to me, Mr. Morgan ? " 
 
 " I have not, my young friend. It is a more diffi- 
 cult task than I anticipated, and sometimes I think I 
 will relinquish the plan altogether." 
 
 " I am so glad I am not too late," exclaimed Her- 
 bert joyfully. " I have come to tell you, sir, that 
 what I related to you of William Camden can all be 
 explained, and I am quite sure that he would suit you 
 in every respect."
 
 TWO SIDES TO A STORY. 181 
 
 He then gave Mr. Morgan a full account of the 
 whole affair, to which the gentleman listened with 
 much satisfaction, and declared his intention of calling 
 upon Mrs. Camden that evening. 
 
 " This will be a warning to you, my dear boy," he 
 said to Herbert, " to judge less rashly of the actions 
 of your friends." 
 
 " It will indeed, sir," was the reply. " I have too 
 often disregarded these warnings ; but in future I am 
 resolved never to forget that there may be ' two sides 
 
 to a story.' " 
 
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